Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII – or its amazing sequel – but I'd love to. This piece takes place in an alternate universe, where the events of the game never occurred, yet the fal'Cie still exist, as well as l'Cie and the Cie'th. However, the rules of the l'Cie are vastly different, and so are the rules for the fal'Cie and Cie'th. However, Cocoon and Pulse are still mortal enemies. This is the only time I will be posting a disclaimer on any of my stories, unless it is pertinent to the story itself.
Author's Note: Hello there, my dear reader! This is my first-ever fanfiction, and I hope it's good enough. Please, please tell me if the characters are out of character; I'm not a very good writer, but I want to be. Hope you enjoy the chapter! Reviews are kind of a big part in whether or not I continue this... I'm on the third chapter right now, but it would be wonderful to have a little positive (or negative, if it's a bad story)feedback to look forward to! And without further ado, the fanfiction shall begin. ヾ(´□｀* )ノ
CHAPTER ONE: THINK BACK TO THE PAST
She huffed; that shot had almost set her into the ground if it weren't for her quick feet. Gripping the mechanical saber resting in her right hand with unyielding force, the girl, who looked to be about thirteen, slashed through a few opposing soldiers, sweat beginning to form on her delicate brow. Her strawberry blonde locks spiraled down to the left of her head, ending about five inches from her shoulder. A dark pauldron with two bright yellow lines glowed in the light; it was an insignia of her force, the Guardian Corps. Another blow from a grenade launcher bit the dirt merely a yard from where she was standing, and she pulled her body painfully into a fierce stance, ready to destroy whatever horror was waiting for her.
Three soldiers marched through the billowing dust, and circled her, disorienting her previous plan. They were learning new tactics… huh. She shifted the weight of her blade, gathering up the strength for a different attack to meet their different strategy. Without a word, the girl spun once, the sword slashing through layers of clothing and skin, leaving gashes on the trio's torsos. A meek smile later, and the group fell to the ground, unable to get up. Snickering indignantly, the teen stepped over their warm, weak bodies and outstretched her free arm right in front of her, seemingly to clear the cloud of dust. A second later, a large blast of electricity jolted down from the heavens and sizzled the very ground, and the atmosphere was now clear again.
A grenade launcher was just inches from her face moments later, and her blue eyes screamed in terror. Quick, honed reflexes deftly snatched the bazooka and tossed it to the side, leaving the previously armed soldier now without a weapon. He was dropped to the ground within seconds, and the lithe youth continued on her quest through the line of troops, dealing with each posse in a similar, efficient fashion. Her strength had begun to wean, but her body showed no signs of this; her resolve for revenge growing with every unconscious body.
The sound of a trumpet sounding sent shivers down her spine, and the girl stepped back, staring at the damage her dangerous saber had caused. Her very own mind had forbidden her hand to be the cause of any death to this day, but it seemed as if she had disobeyed her own ruling, and she trembled, dropping the blade to the ground. It landed shortly after, but not before a metallic twang hit the air. Fingers delicately caressed her mouth as if they could cage the shock of the turmoil, but no such boon befell her and she stumbled to the ground, staring with her sizzling blue eyes at the aftermath of her wrath.
Of course, PSICOM did in fact deserve her anger. They deserved more than to just be pinned down after what they had done to the adolescent, yet a force beyond her own willed her to keep every one of their troops alive. Her pauldron glowed in glee in the sun's gentle rays, but she was anything from happy. She had just wanted to go home; she hadn't expected such an onslaught of cadets to hound her like dogs. It was just a normal day. She had trained for a few hours in the back of the school that she was supposed to be learning in, using recess and other breaks as reconnaissance practice. She had not in a million years expected that a squadron of PSICOM troops was eyeing her the entire time.
The alleyway was now suddenly extremely small, and she cursed her insecurity enough to clam up the feelings that went with it. Quickly standing and then shifting into a defensive position, the teen held out her free hand in the same manner that she had previously, and instead of a bolt raining down from the sky, a blue wisp seeped out of her skin and shrouded her being for merely a moment, then the light vanished. Scars scattered across her pale skin had been patched up, and all that was remaining of her trouble were faint lines in their stead. She sighed and picked up the blade, then stuck it back into its sheath, hanging behind her.
Walking backwards at first, the girl managed to turn around and enter the sidewalk, crowded with spectators who had been watching her fight. Shrugging them off nonchalantly, the girl began to blend into the moving congregate of people, wanting to drop the whole incident as fast as it had befallen her young self. The operatives who had cornered her in the alleyway wanted to pry intelligence out of her; seemingly for the next battle that was surely going to take place soon. The two branches of the military of the floating shell had been warring for a few years now, and during one of the earlier battles, she had lost a woman and a man very dear to her… the teenager had lost her parents in a struggle that could have been avoided.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to think back to that day, when the news had dawned upon both young sisters. She didn't want to, and instead she focused on the path ahead, to what she would tell that same sister, Serah. The girl watched as passerby busied themselves with cellphones or companions, their chatter filling the air with noise and unrest. Eventually, she even found the buzz to be warm and welcomed into her throbbing head; the former battles had been a little rough, though she would be the last one to admit it. But most of all, she didn't know what to tell the worried youth sitting at home, waiting for her to return.
Leather boots covered her feet, which were automatically making their way up to her apartment. Surely the government would have dropped the close siblings off with unsuspecting foster parents if the little soldier hadn't agreed to join their ranks. But parts of her knew it was the right choice, parts of her wanted to become an automaton so as to drown out any and all emotion in preparation for her revenge. Nevertheless, she was unsure of herself, at least, at first. But then, she was allowed some leniency, then freedom to do as she chose, and eventually the talented youth ripped through the ranks of the Corps, leading to where she was now: a sergeant at thirteen. Not the first choice of most young teens, but was definitely hers.
As she unlatched the pouch strapped to her thigh and fished out the key to the door, the girl couldn't help but think back to the past. She had been living here, with Serah, for a solid five years. The pauldron on her shoulder was till up and running, as it had all those years ago, but she couldn't help but plaster a bittersweet smile on her face at the memories of her younger self. The naïve thoughts that had wormed their way into her head nine years ago, the ones that spoke to her of bravery and faith, had ceased to affect her soon after. It was due to the careful reckoning of Serah. Everything that the stoic woman had ever done in her short life, to this day, was for her sister's safe upbringing. She had forgotten how to be a child, and she honestly didn't want to remember.
The memories tasted like worn metal as they seared her tongue, and the soldier pushed the door inwards, licking her lips tactfully. One groan and a warm cuddle later, she found herself sitting on the couch with a concerned Serah wiping crimson blood from the side of her mouth. Ah, so that was where the pang originated. Brow furrowed, the woman pulled out the shining blade, inspecting it for what must have been the thousandth time. Her finesse was out of habit and nerves; she always stared at the sharp steel when things got rough. Serah noticed this and pulled back, her eyebrows matching the woman's.
"Lightning! It's your birthday, don't even think about it!"
Her tone was brisk and held an unsettling edge to it, uncharacteristic for the girl. Lightning brought her head up to meet her blue gaze with Serah's; they went on like this for what must have been more than a few minutes, because her sister cleared her throat involuntarily to catch the woman's attention. She sighed, and put the gunblade off to her side on the creamy sofa, crossing her arms later.
"I just quit; hardly a matter to get upset over."
"They were the only ones who believed you, you know."
"I'll find a way. And keep Raines out of this, he's... more than a little..."
Her sister nodded in quaint understanding. Cid Raines, the general of the Corps and Lightning's superior, had been harboring a crush on the woman ever since she poured her heartbreaking tale of woe into his ears a little over a year ago. It was extremely obvious, and even the dense, level-headed recipient of his charms had realized that he liked her, though their age difference was jarring and more than a little disturbing. Serah moved the blade that her sister held so dear and let it rest upon the coffee table, then took Lightning's hand into hers, gripping it with uncertainty.
"Promise me one thing, Light. Promise me that you will make an effort."
"In what?" She scoffed lightly, trying to lighten the mood in a miserable attempt.
"Go back to school. And before you even start, there are some things that only school can teach you, not me."
"I don't need to learn those things. What I need to do is protect you."
The stoic statue's sibling pulled her hands away and into her own lap, sighing. Lightning was as stubborn as can be, and today was no exception. Leaning back to let her head rest against the soft pillow of the couch, Lightning crossed her legs adamantly, and then copied her sister's sigh. She had hoped that Serah would swallow the whole ordeal much easier than this, but the woman boldly stood up to her, as she always did. Her sister had let her copy down her notes and she learned from them as Serah went through her education, and in turn the soldier had retained much of the information fairly well. As she had spent much of her time honing her skills and finding work to sustain the household, Lightning eventually stopped going to school altogether, reasoning that it was easier of she just stayed home and trained instead of being put on a roster and missing a lesson each day.
"You use Lightning as your full name, correct? And you aren't too keen on disclosing your real name to me, right?"
"Right."
"Not one for words, are you?"
She looked away from the principal of the prestiged Bodhum High, and focused her attention on the elegant window overseeing a stretching garden filled with greenery and flora. The woman scoffed loudly enough for the authoritative figure to hear, and crossed her legs with a mumble. With the hope that Serah would understand her resignation and be lenient due to the date, the woman had told her in her typical manner of speaking just yesterday. But Serah had insisted to make her sister go to school as a way of forgiving her, and Lightning would have none of it. But eventually, she gave in… how could she not? Serah knew every one of her soft spots and what it took to change her mind.
"And from what I can tell, you've got an impressive backstory. A full-fledged soldier at only nine, huh?"
"Huh." Lightning impressed herself with her own sarcastic tone. She's improved. This time, it was the principle who sighed, but Lightning shrugged it off and continued to stare at the beauty of the school's grounds. The whole thing would have gone much easier if her sister had been here to answer all the technical questions, but apparently Lightning had to do this herself. Sometimes, she questioned the cheerful girl's logic, but it couldn't be helped. The man paused, pressing two fingers to his head, before removing them and continuing with his interview of sorts.
"Well, all of your information checks out. You'd better watch that mouth of yours, though."
"Right."
Hastily standing up on her two legs, the twenty-one year old woman picked up a long, tan strap that was attached to a bag, and she slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave and start her four years of misery. She made sure to grab a manila folder that the principal had pushed over to her side of the desk, most likely a welcome packet of some kind with multiple syllabi to sign and rules to read. Lightning wasn't the type of person to actually read through any of those types of papers, but she supposed that she would take it for good measure. Her strides were wide and dignified, and as she walked out of the office without another word or glance her hand dropped the folder into her near-empty, weightless bag. She would dispose of it later.
But… she supposed that she needed to at least take a look at it now. It had completely slipped her mind to read her schedule, and that was more than likely the most important paper in the package anyways. Without further ado, the woman slipped her hand into the bag once more to pull out the folder, still aimlessly walking through the hallway. She opened it and promptly found her class schedule; it was the very first item. After dumping the file back into the satchel, her fingers unfolded the paper to reveal her schedule, which had seven classes and an extra study period. Huh. The principal did say something about that; he had stated that Lightning had passed each entrance exam with flying colors, but he had to put her into a few courses that she already understood due to some technical jargon that she didn't really care to know of.
It read as follows: Calculus 2, Advanced Placement Biology, English 3, Study Hall, Freshman Lunch, Fitness, Advanced Placement Government, and Architecture. But wait… lunch with the puny freshmen? There was no way that could work out. She was, at the very least, six years older than the students of her class. She had classes that were beyond their comprehension. And yet she had to eat with them. Lightning huffed in pitiful denial, but she soon realized that she couldn't just enter a school without consequences unlikely to her favor. Serah would have to hear about this; the girl more than likely had a part in the whole mishap.
Lightning growled as she made her way through the maze of bland, twisting vestibules that cut her a path to the current period, which for her would have been study hall. There wasn't much to do, and absolutely nothing for her to study, so the woman arrived at the conclusion that she could just practice with her sword in the probably empty lounge. Maybe she would be able to sneak into the gymnasium, work out a little. Again, the odds were not in her favor, but the woman couldn't help but hope that they were.
Light flooded into a room no larger than her bedroom as she set down her bag, its contents probably folded. The windows were grand, yet the room held an aura of quiet innocence. She smiled, after scouting its every corner for others; it was totally empty. With that grin in tow, she drew out her blade and it assembled itself neatly and swiftly. Her eyes flittered around the room, for surely there was some sort of mechanism that would allow her to train? She could leap daintily upon the shelves and slash at thin air on a narrow ground, but that held no challenge.
A sigh escaped her lips, and she sheathed her sword, a little flustered as to what to do. There were plenty of books, but most were for teens, younger than she. But maybe there was a treasure hidden within the angst-ridden pile of paper, and the possibility made her nerves run wild. The woman walked over to a promising case filled with musty novels, and her slender arm picked a certain one out for her. The title spoke to her in a metaphorical sense, and she smiled, a pang of sadness remnant on her lips. The book suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand tons in her hand, but the woman held it up anyways, her crystal-blue eyes searing a hole into the bare spine. The golden letters that had been pushed in ever so slightly to read as the title called to every fiber of her being, quite strongly.
"Of course. What else could it be?"
She had walked into the cafeteria with a fierce air about her, and not a single soul had their attention elsewhere. Murmurs and whispers pertaining to the strawberry blonde could be heard from all around, but she carelessly strode past, settling near the exit to the yard behind the building. She let her left shoulder lean on the wall where the door was inset, disregarding the warnings about not blocking the door, and she folded her arms and crossed her legs. She was in the middle of deep thought on how to survive the rest of the day when a man that smelled strongly of cologne and of alcohol made his way to her. She scoffed at his audacity, and closed her eyes. He seemed to be fourteen years old.
"Hey there, baby! Wanna do a little dance at my place?"
She continued to ignore him, and his words didn't even reach her ears before she let out a highly audible no. He laughed, then an arm made its way around her waist. The older woman now snapped her eyes wide open to take in the sight – he had black hair that resembled Cid's, and typical fourteen-year-old clothing. Nothing too special, but a football jersey was on his person. She wore the same thing she always wore; it never failed her in terms of comfort and utility, so she never bothered to change her ways.
"Do you know who runs this school?"
Lightning had enough of his rude boldness, and easily kicked him in the stomach, without even breathing another word. He yelped a curse and stared her hard in the eyes, readying his hand to pull a punch. She let out a tsk and adeptly moved her body with little difficulty, avoiding his throw. After all, she was a trained soldier with no place at a school – she had almost forgotten why she was here in the first place.
"Baby doll, don't be like that.
"Leave."
"What did you say?"
"Leave."
The woman spoke with an authoritative tone; it made your head go awry and your body bow down at your feet. She knew how to get people to leave her alone one way or another, and this was the most peaceful way that she could think of. Of course, the fact that every eye in the cafeteria was now trained on her did not help one bit, and she closed her eyes again, taking up her previous spot. The kid was tall, but her massive height topped his – she was five foot seven, strange for a female but great for a soldier. That was exactly what she was; she was a soldier. A cold, trained assassin.
"That's not sweet at all, honey."
A pause wedged its way into his chatter.
"Don't like talking? You must like it hard."
Another pause, this time more drawn out. But then, she sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. But before he could advance any more, she slapped away the arm that had attached itself to her waist and threw his body to the opposing wall, the crowd of students parting in horror as they watched him hit the plaster with a moan of pain. When the sea of teenagers turned their heads back to her, she was already brushing her waist, as if his touch had spawned monsters and she was picking them off, one by one.
"What?"
Her reflexes were abnormally quick, and the phrase came out more as a jeer when a student sitting near her stared at her, his arms trembling in fright. Lightning hadn't meant for things to get so heated, but she despised touch of any kind, even if it was emotional. She refused to get close to anyone at all, for fear of a terrible fate to befall that person. When the principal's voice didn't ring through the halls and a teacher didn't come over to take her there, she came to the conclusion that there might be some sense after all in coming here; she might have to fix the whimsical, disappointing society of the adolescents.
Twenty-one years she had lived, but not a single one of them had she felt so awkward. It wasn't that she was stared at – she didn't care, to be perfectly honest – but it was the fact that she was seven years old than most other people in the room. How could she spend four years with these people, when she was seven years apart from them? Serah had no idea what was coming for her when the woman reached the house, but it wasn't a lecture or a punch in the face, if that. It was a simple, "I'm not going." to relate the woman's thoughts to her sister. That would be possible, if she was physically able to get through the entire day without getting expelled. And, of course, there was the matter of her shiny new dorm to be settled. She would figure something out to escape the grave she had just dug for herself.