Garden hadn't changed much—of that, Fujin was certain.
The lack of change was welcome though, considering the circumstances. Consistency hadn't really been a staple in her life these past couple of years; moving apartment to apartment, jumping job to job, living hand to mouth. Truthfully, the only constant in her world was instability, with the exception of Rajin, who was more like an extension of her own body and thus couldn't really be factored into the equation.
So Fujin supposed she was only certain of two things: Rajin's undying loyalty, and Garden's ever present aura of prestige and power. The image was carefully crafted right down to each individual shiny nail—sleek, shiny, uniform; the epitome of a fine tuned war machine. If she were trying to offend though, she'd make a comment about Galbadia's obvious design superiority—it's dark coloring and maze-like layout felt a bit more ominous. That place even put the fear in her, and Fujin didn't scare easily. Maybe it was the circumstances at the time though; Seifer waging a hellish war under the influence of the sorceress, with her and Raijin caught in the crossfire. Fujin couldn't be certain.
She honestly wasn't going out of her way to try and offend anyone today, though it was obvious that her general presence was offensive. Admittedly, she'd taken the place by surprise when she strolled in unannounced this morning, but they hadn't really given her much choice with Xu refusing her many phone calls. But Fujin also knew that Xu's opinion wasn't really the one that mattered. All she needed to do was catch the right ear, and in order to do that she had to either pass through or bypass Xu altogether.
Fujin supposed she understood—she was a convicted criminal. An accomplice to the bombing of Trabia, guilty of kidnapping, of treason; the list of legal grievances was long, and the list of personal grudges even longer. Of course she understood.
Despite that understanding, Fujin made just one last unanswered call before leaving Fisherman's Horizon yesterday to make the lonesome journey to Balamb, leaving Raijin behind in the apartment they rented together without as much as a note to explain. He'd only try to stop her or worse, make her sit through one of his blubbering goodbyes. This choice would make him a nervous wreck—and could potentially alter his life forever—but the decision to leave was easy, given what was at stake.
Banned from the Garden system, ordered to stay miles away from Rinoa Heartilly and Edea Kramer, and if in breach of that could be dealt with how Garden saw fit. It wasn't that Fujin couldn't recall the sentence the Global Council had passed down or that she couldn't picture the many things that "how Garden saw fit" could encompass—she understood the risks; anyone at Garden could shoot her on sight if they wanted. Fujin could very well die today, and the scales of justice would stay hung at a steady, even keel.
Seifer was worth that risk, though. If Fujin was told she'd have to endure the sorceress experience and its fallout time and time again in exchange for Seifer's freedom, there was no question: she'd follow him to hell and back all over again, suffer the heartbreak of it, be convicted and exiled; apartment to apartment, job to job, hand to mouth. Right hand to whatever god they asked her to believe in, she'd do it every time.
She marched down the halls of her old home knowing this misery would be over soon one way or another. They'd either help her, or she'd ask them to shoot her on the spot if they said no; she didn't want to live another second if he wasn't living alongside her.
The look on Xu's face when she spotted Fujin inside Balamb Garden's gates was hard to read at first. Did she jump a little in surprise, or was it fear? Fujin couldn't help but find that a little comical, considering she'd came in unarmed and that at least thirty SeeD and students stopped to gawk as she made the long walk from Garden's entrance to the directory. Hell, the entire first floor seemed to stand still, and Xu—perched on the stairs as she spoke to a young cadet—didn't even realize it until Fujin's boot touched the step. Seifer would've been proud to see Fujin—a little wisp of a thing (Seifer's words, not hers)—striking fear into the hearts of mercenaries just by merely by passing through.
At least, he would've been proud until the moment Fujin put her hands up in the air, surrendering to Xu willingly without even being asked. If he'd seen that, he'd only feel even more sorry for everything he'd done.
She tried not to picture that handsome face of his as as Xu ordered a few of the gawkers to restrain her. But his visage appeared anyway—his lips drawn in a tight line, the corners slanted downward, his green eyes narrowed and his shoulders broad shoulders squared; the muscles along his arm tensing as his fingers flexed on the hilt of Hyperion—ready to strike. Ready to protect and defend. It was so vivid it was almost tactile. She failed so miserably at not imagining Seifer that Fujin almost didn't realize Xu relaying the scene over the phone to what had to be Garden's young headmaster: the one and only Squall Leonhart.
Xu held a white-knuckled grip on the handset as the voice on the other end instructed her to clear the second floor classroom and sequester the interloper there. More than likely to give Squall and his core group of advisors—Timlitt, Trepe, Dincht, Kinneas … and Heartilly—enough time to assemble and discuss. They already knew why Fujin was here; no reason to waste time. Seifer's sentence was scheduled in just over a month and since she couldn't stop time … well, Fujin was very obviously here to beg for his life.
Pale fingers tensed and stretched in the spots just above her kneecaps, her palms sweating so thickly she could feel it through the light fabric of her pants. Civilian clothes. That treasured old blue uniform of hers was long gone now—lost somewhere in the six-month window she'd been held at D-District Prison, or at least that's what they'd told her. Fujin was convinced it was just a tactic to make her feel more vulnerable when they released her back into the world.
She supposed it worked. She was reeling when she walked out of D-District—cautious, questioning, nervous, defenseless. And then there was the simple fact that Seifer's absence left an unbridgeable chasm within her; a phantom feeling that something that was supposed to be there was missing. Even now, through oceans, sand, concrete, and bars … she swore could feel him.
Best not to think about any of that now. This was her last shot, and she couldn't be irrational and blow it. She needed a clear head.
Fujin could only sit and wait for the heads of Balamb Garden to finish deliberating, and pray that she didn't fall apart in the interim. Her heart was racing—the same resounding rhythm it beat out the day Seifer was sentenced to die. She and Raijin were banned from the proceedings, but were lucky—in the loosest sense of the word—to be able to watch the entire trial play out on television; the communications systems were up and running—the work on them expedited, just so the world could bear witness to the conviction of the monstrous sorceress' knight.
Oh, hadn't all of that been the most brutal thing she'd ever endured? To know where he was, and to know that he needed her, and to be able to do nothing at all? Fujin could only sit on the threadbare couch she shared with Raijin and listen to that drumming beat and the sound of her own sobs as she saw Seifer led into the court; his eyes darting around the room to catch a glimpse of them. Looking for her. Knowing that if he laid on eyes on his friends, that it would probably be the for the very last time.
He'd known all along, he just never had the heart to tell her. Such a gentle action for the man who'd become the monster in all their nightmares. But it hadn't been him—not really—and Leonhart had to know that.
The verdict was always going to be guilty, but the courts still crucified him for show—witness after witness telling stories of murder and mayhem; all the things that she knew happened but that still didn't seem possible. All things that Seifer barely remembered, some making his eyes grow wide and causing them to mist over. Fujin broke when she saw that—Seifer, straining to bite back tears in front of a room of people, in front of the world? She'd been the only one to see him that way—how dare they do this to him now, after everything he'd been through? How could they not understand?
Surprisingly, the core orphanage group—Squall, Selphie, Zell, Quistis, and Irvine—all refused to testify. Rinoa, on the other hand, didn't disappoint. The young sorceress regaled the world with an hours-long saga, detailing every event that occurred from the fateful day she met Seifer Almasy to the day he threw her to Adel.
That part of the trial was painful to relive. Rinoa caused a rift between Seifer and Fujin that summer—the summer that this whole mess started—and it felt doubly terrible to hear it remembered with such a one-sided slant and used against him. Him. Of all people. Who was nothing but good to Rinoa that summer. She spent enough time with him to know that this madness wasn't in him—that Seifer would never do any of these things willingly. The knife was already in his back. Did she really need to push it in deeper for spectacle?
But even that wasn't as painful as hearing the judge enumerate all of Seifer's crimes, and hearing herself listed as one of them. Coercion of Balamb Garden cadets Fujin Sanada and Raijin Kazeno via threat of death.
Until that moment, Fujin was under the impression that the last stand she and Raijin took against Seifer—as he dug his heels in deeper with Ultimecia and slipped the farthest away from her he'd ever slipped—was relayed by Leonhart and his cronies to the powers that be. That somehow, that little display lightened the burden of their sentence. No one told her that Seifer took all the blame. For everything. Sure, she and Rajin committed crimes at his command, but they did so willingly. He hadn't threatened them, and when they wanted to walk away he let them go.
It wasn't the only crime he'd falsely confessed to, and of all the things he'd done under the sorceress' spell, this was small in comparison; it certainly wasn't the crime that tipped the scale to guilty. But under the weight of shock, Fujin still felt responsible. She felt like she should be with him in that cell. No sorceress had her mesmerized; Fujin chose to follow him, and help him because she loved him ruthlessly … and there was no one to blame for that but herself.
She was furious. What gave him the right to rob her of any responsibility? Of any ability to save him? What made him so bold as to think he could choose to die without her?
That ratty old television set she and Raijin scrimped and saved for didn't stand a chance when Fujin rose up from the couch in a blind rage and pushed it to the floor; the regret of the action setting in as instantly as the glass shattered and Seifer's face broke apart with it. Raijin had to take to the street and pawn what few possessions they had and buy another one that same day; she hadn't really left him much of a choice—she was sobbing so hard at the thought of not seeing him that she could barely catch her breath.
"Fujin." Her hands balled into tight fists at the sound of her name being called coolly through an opening door. Her eyes darted upward to find former Balamb Garden headmaster Cid Kramer, strolling into the classroom coolly with his hands clasped behind his back, leading the procession of heroes behind him—Selphie, Irvine, Zell, Quistis … and Squall. No Rinoa in sight, though Fujin reasoned it was for legal reasons. "Apologies for keeping you locked up here like this. We had no other choice, you understand." The others were stone-faced, with the exception of Zell who grimaced when she caught his gaze.
"Tsch. Lucky Xu didn't kill you on the spot." He scoffed, barely above a whisper. Quistis shot him her best instructor's warning glance and he backed down immediately, his gaze falling to the floor and his cheeks flushing at being admonished by the pretty instructor Trepe. Apparently, the group's dynamics hadn't changed much.
"AFFIRMATIVE." Irvine arched a chestnut eyebrow at her self-imposed way of speaking; apparently being back within the walls of Garden made her revert to old habits. How could she forget that they all heard her pivotal speech to Seifer? Fujin swallowed the lump in her throat and started again. "I mean … of course I understand. Being locked in a room is better than being shot on sight, I suppose."
"I suppose it is." Cid sighed and walked to lean against the edge of the desk at the head of the room, with the others following suit and fanning out around him. Squall continued to bring up the rear, lost in thought with his arms crossed over his chest as he slowly walked to the edge of the group to take his place beside Quistis. "So, how have you been?"
It'd been ages since anyone but Raijin asked her how she was doing. Leave it to Kramer to ask one of the dark knight's accomplices how she'd been lately. As if what they'd done was equivalent to getting her caught with her hand in the cookie jar in Garden's cafeteria, and they could all just breeze by it with a slap on the wrist and move on. Fujin honestly wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch him or hug him.
"Hyne," Irvine interjected, placing a hand on his hip and throwing his hand up in exasperation. "Can't we just skip the pleasantries and get down to business? We all know why she's here."
"Irvine, there's no harm in—"
"No, he's right." Squall piped up from the side of the room, looking reluctant to get involved but feeling duty bound to cut Cid off again. Fujin hadn't the slightest idea how the hierarchy of Garden worked now—whether Cid Kramer was still on board in an advisory capacity or as something more official. The only thing that was clear, as all eyes darted towards the voice and waited for their leader to speak, was that Squall was running the show … no matter how much he very clearly didn't want to.
"You're here because of Seifer." Squall stated plainly, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced her. "I'm just not sure what you want from us."
Despite the longstanding rivalry with Squall, Fujin always admired his no-frills approach. She operated that way herself for the most part. It dawned on her once, back when they were still children in classes and Seifer was complaining about how unfair it was that Squall's stoic nature made him a more likeable student (stated more along the lines of he doesn't have the balls to speak up and challenge people, that's why they like him more than me), that she actually possessed many Leonhart-esque qualities herself. How odd, that Seifer seemed to like those qualities in her and abhor them in Squall. Fujin supposed Seifer's treatment of the two hadn't been all that different. Squall was competition, while Fujin was a conquest—winning and control were always at the heart of the matter.
"Even if we wanted to help you, his sentence was passed down by the Global Council—we don't have any footholds there." Quistis shook her head, the phrasing and the action signaling that she'd at least been amendable to the idea of getting involved. "Esthar and Galbadia signed an armistice agreement just so it would be easier to expedite his trial. He did ..." Quistis turned to Selphie, who kept her gaze fixed on the floor. No doubt remembering Trabia. "He did unspeakable things and the whole world wants his head on a platter."
"He didn't do them," Fujin growled lowly, biting back at Quistis more harshly than she'd intended.
"Hey! Watch the tone. Just because Xu didn't end you doesn't mean I won't." Zell stepped forward, flexing his gloved hand and cracking his knuckles.
"Zell." Squall flattened Zell's anger with the stern directive; the blond freezing in place at the utterance of his name. As her crimson eye narrowed and glared at Zell, Fujin couldn't help but notice that Leonhart had come into his own—Seifer would be disappointed to know that Squall turned into the leader that he'd always wanted to be.
"It wasn't Seifer." Fujin pressed on, locking her own gaze with Squall's and ignoring the others altogether. "I mean … it was Seifer, but it wasn't. He was there sometimes, and sometimes he wasn't. And when he was there it was confusing for him because she was Edea."
"It wasn't confusing for us." Squall responded, his voice void of emotion.
"But you weren't possessed by her, and she didn't give you the memories." Fujin looked away from Squall then, reminded of those moments during the war when Seifer came out of the sorceress' haze, bewildered at what was happening around him and breaking down in front of her. "She gave everything back to him—every single moment from the orphanage; the only mother any of you ever knew. It's more complicated than him physically being there. You of all people should know that."
Squall's eyebrows raised in recognition of Fujin's implication—that he'd had his own consciousness transported somewhere else, and that his own girlfriend had been possessed by the sorceress too. They should all understand, to some degree.
"I never said it wasn't complicated. We were conflicted about the whole process." He shrugged his shoulders and quickly glanced at his comrades. "You probably know that the five of us never testified."
"Was that supposed to be a favor?" Fujin grimaced, her voice wavering a bit as Squall touched a raw nerve. "A shred of honesty about it from you would've helped his cause."
"Well if we're pointing fingers here," Irvine chimed in from the other side of the room, "you should look in the mirror darlin'. You could've done something to control that maniac."
"Go to hell." Fujin glared at him, her voice rippling with a low rage, her body snapping towards him.
"I said watch it. I swear to Hyne I'll lay you out cold." Zell darted forward at her quick action, cracking his knuckles again.
"Don't be ludicrous. She's not even armed." Quistis sighed, exasperated; the pragmatic instructor was getting irritated with the unproductive turn this was taking.
"We didn't teach you to maim the defenseless, Zell," Cid interjected himself once again, chastising Zell. The spiky-haired blonde stepped back with a grumble, and silence fell over the room as the group waited for Squall to respond.
"We didn't testify because we couldn't be impartial. We were all too close to it—to Edea, to Seifer, to the governments involved, to everything. And we all come down on different sides of this issue anyway." Squall looked around the room to his friends again, each of them giving him an affirming nod before turning their gazes to the floor; their differing opinions on Seifer's guilt seemed to be the only thing they could agree on. "Everyone was biased enough as it was; we wouldn't have added any more clarity."
"What about Rinoa?" Fujin glowered, her eyes feeling hot at the remembrance of her testimony.
"That was her choice, and it was the wrong one." Squall conceded, irritation flashing on his face at the mention of it. "The weight of the Galbadian General's daughter's testimony isn't lost on me. I know what that did …" His voice trailed off, unsure of how to apologize on behalf of the woman he loved while also supporting her decision. "The rest of us were trying to be fair."
Fujin laughed out loud at that, drawing a look of shock from the group; she couldn't help herself. At every turn, Squall was trying to justify his inaction; trying to blame it on anything other than his own feelings—that he'd hated Seifer all his life, and couldn't stop hating him … even now, with one foot in the grave.
"What's so funny?" Selphie inquired, miffed by Fujin's response.
"All of this." Fujin doubled over, her stomach clenching violently and her throat growing tight as she sucked in shallow breaths. "Your silence condemned him—do you think that's fair? "No, this was about you, Leonhart. You didn't do anything. He's one of you and you didn't do anything to help him. The righteous Squall Leonhart making an ethical exception, just because you can't get over your own pride."
"Fujin you're overstepping—" The anger started to build in Squall's voice, but was quickly abated as tears streamed down Fujin's cheeks the laughter turned to sobs.
"Fujin, don't." Quistis stepped out of line with the others but was stopped short of kneeling down beside her by Zell's firm grip on her arm. They exchanged words too quietly for Fujin to hear through her own grief; Zell winning the argument as Quistis stayed locked beside him.
"Do you think I'm so egotistical that I'd want this for him?" Squall asked, shocked to see Fujin this emotional, and by her thinly veiled accusation. Fujin ignored him, frantically rambling as they all looked on in awe at the mess she'd melted into.
"Edea walked free, Rinoa walked free, Raijin and I walked free." Fujin shook her head, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. This was the last thing she wanted to happen in front of them. "But Seifer? No one even gave him a chance! He was possessed by Ultimecia. He never would've done any of this if he wasn't, and you know it."
"That's just it Fujin—I don't know it." Squall's hand was at his hip now, his voice dropping an octave deeper as he defended his actions. "I can't say that I know for certain that Seifer was possessed. That he wouldn't have done all this on his own. He's always been hot-headed; he's always been difficult; he's always been dangerous. You know that better than anyone."
"Exactly—I know him better than anyone." She pressed a desperate pale hand to her chest to emphasize just how deeply her knowledge of him went. "And if you can't be certain of his guilt one way or another—if you don't know for certain—then how can you just stand there and not act? How can you …"
It took all the strength she had to get this far; the resolve to make the journey, coming to terms with risking her own life, and the embarrassment of seeing them all again for the first time since her sentencing. Every last ounce of self-respect was gone, and every last bit of energy wasted. But it was this word, that she'd only thought but never utter out lout for fear it would come true, that made her fall to her knees on the floor.
"How can you just let him die?" She asked aloud, shaking with grief, as a pair of gloved hands were laid on her shoulders. "I can't just let him die."
"She's having a breakdown, man." It was Zell Dincht, big-talker that he was, with a pang of guilt in his voice and his hands pressed gently to her shoulders to hold her upright. "Now I feel bad."
"I can't let him die," Fujin muttered again through her tears, her hand flying up to grip Zell's—only to ground herself; only to get some stability; only because she didn't have anything left to hold onto. A loud gasp came from the other side of the room, and all eyes but Fujin's turned to the bouncy brunette whose mouth hung agape at her discovery.
"Oh my holy Hyne! You and Seifer?" Selphie marveled, her aqueous clover-colored eyes misting over in sorrow. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" She pointed a finger at Fujin, in the gentlest accusatory way. "You're in love with Seifer Almasy!