A/N: I had this story inside my head for a long time, and I think this is the perfect time to write it out. I wondered how things would be if the story was slightly changed? This story takes place a year before the l'Cie incident; before Serah was turned to crystal and before Lightning knew how to trust her compatriots and defied her fate. This is a story based on Lightning's journey to trust the people around her, albeit, with the help of a time-traveling assassin.
In this story, Lightning is 20 and Serah is 17.
I don't plan on making this story long, but I hope it's enough to tell you guys a story that's been brewing in my mind for years now. I will say, however, this story may seem rushed as I didn't dream a lot of it. Either way, I do hope you enjoy this story, a prequel to Final Fantasy XIII.
As a soft reminder, this story will contain vulgar language and nudity. Reader's discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: How far would you go to trust someone whose mission was to kill you and erase you from the pages of history?
Chapter 1: The Shadow Man
Lightning's blue eyes traveled to the clock pinned on the wall, counting down the seconds until the long clock arm would creep its way to the steel-plated number twelve. It had been a long day, going listening to people speak for three hours straight. Three hours. Who had the time to talk for three hours without catching their breath or let alone, eat or take annual bathroom breaks? Today was another uneventful day, just like any other day, acting as a security officer in Bodhum for the Guardian Corps. Her friends—her acquaintances from high school—hilariously laughed and told her she was mad; she'd never get into the Guardian Corps. They'd never accept a woman in their ranks, especially a short-tempered spitfire known as Lightning Farron. Fast-forwarding to the present, Lightning got the last laugh; she ended up getting accepted into the Guardian Corps, and her uniform proved it. Lightning had this position for a year, maybe two now, and still, she never received her promotion even after filling in emergency graveyard shifts and doing excessive paperwork for her carefree colleagues. Lightning's efforts were overlooked even if her peers received promotions within three months of working here.
Still, she never complained or begged for a promotion; she was going to endure each trial and tribulation until her hardworking efforts and contributions were recognized by her superiors and the higher-ups.
Her eyes had glanced over to the clock again before she was dismissed. Just ten seconds to go. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two and one. Her shift was over. Almost on cue, she heard the sound of chattering behind her, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her.
"Anything to report?" A tall older man with gray hair questioned the strawberry-blonde.
"Negative." Lightning responded. "Everything's clear. No trouble today from the usual rambunctious kids or anything out of the ordinary,"
"Good to hear." Another man chimed in. He was much shorter and had quite a beer belly hanging out of his crème colored slacks. "We'll take it from here. You can leave for the night,"
"Yes, sir."
Relieved, Lightning took a deep breath and saluted her commanding officers. Quickly turning heel, she rushed to the Bodhum Security shed to pick up her things before leaving for home. Snatching her leather shoulder bag from her locker, Lightning quickly flung it over her shoulder and headed out. Looking left and right, she crossed the street, passed by a couple of two-story houses before reaching Bodhum's sandy shores. Pausing on the beach, Lightning took a deep breath; it was routine for her to take a deep breath before returning to her home. Tilting her head up, the skies were clear and were dotted with minuscule stars, twinkling against the azure and black blanket. For some reason, though unexplained, looking at the night's sky always comforted her.
Feeling the wind gently nudge her from behind, Lightning continued her journey home.
"Serah, I'm home,"
Silence. No one was home. It was now eleven forty-three PM and Serah, as expected, was nowhere to be found. At this time of night, Serah would be in one of three places: The supermarket, at her friend's house or at her boyfriend's house. Tossing the leather bag onto the green sofa, Lightning expelled a tired sigh and stormed immediately to the fridge. Her blue eyes scanned the glossy fridge surface, looking for new notes. Reaching out to a disgustingly yellow note, she ripped it off the magnet, eyes scanning the written message:
I'm out to get some groceries! We're out of broccoli.
BRB in 20! –Serah
"Broccoli," Lightning muttered distastefully. She hated broccoli. Is she planning on making stir fried broccoli again? We knew how well that went the last time.
Scrunching the paper and tossing it in the recycling bin, Lightning scanned the beige-colored and distasteful living room. Things barely changed since her parents died when she was fifteen. The couch remained unmoved, the walls were beginning to show their age with brown water stains seen on the corners and the rug was a tangled nightmare. Pushing away from the marble counter, Lightning wanted to redecorate the house; there were far too many memories of her deceased parents and lost happiness. Walking to the table, Lightning picked up an old picture frame, now rotted on the edges. Inside the picture was a portrait of her family; there was her father, mother, baby Serah and herself. Serah was probably five months old in this picture, smiling with her rose-colored cheeks. And Lightning? The young girl stood quietly by her mother without a hint of happiness expressed on her face.
"This is garbage," Lightning hissed and forcefully placed down the picture frame.
Picking up her bag, Lightning made her way upstairs for a much-needed shower. Every time Lightning looked at that picture, memories of the past surfaced; she remembered the last time she talked to her mom was a week before her death. Well, it wasn't really a talk but more of a verbal war over some petty thing Lightning drove out of her mind. Lightning never had the chance to apologize; by the time she swallowed her pride; her mom had died.
Mumbling under her breath, Lightning stormed into her room, and threw her bag to the side.
"Ugh, what a day," Lightning exclaimed, locking her fingers together and stretched forward. "What a day."
Lightning had to work six days a week, eight to nine hours a day on guard duty or some paperwork duty shoved in her face in the last minute. Each day was agonizing; she either stood eight hours straight on guard duty or sat eight hours straight doing paperwork. When she applied to the Guardian Corps, she never expected this. Well, truth be told, she didn't know what to expect. She just needed a job.
Quickly undressing, Lightning tried her best to push the past out of her head, permanently. She already had too many things to think about and quite frankly, she didn't need additional headaches. Her newest headache? Serah's boyfriend, the one and only (and annoying) Snow Villiers.
"I can't believe her," Lightning muttered. "Where does she find people like him? He's not good enough for her. I don't trust him… Ugh. I should stop thinking… It's the end the day."
Snatching the fuzzy peach-colored towel and wrapped it around her frame, Lightning expelled one more sigh and entered the bathroom for a refreshing shower after a shitty day from work.
"Ah, that feels good,"
Walking out of the bathroom with an over-sized t-shirt, shorts and running the towel through her hair, Lightning felt new… Slightly new. Moving to her vanity, the strawberry-blonde yawned and eyes darted to the clock. It was now twelve seventeen AM. In a couple of hours, she would be at work again, resuming her shitty post and hear shitty remarks about how unattractive she was by her shitty coworkers. Great. Drying her hair, Lightning moved her eyes back to the mirror and examined her face. Leaning forward, the woman analyzed herself; her cerulean-colored eyes locked onto the sea of freakish pink-colored hair and immediately, she frowned. In Bodhum, only Serah and herself had pink hair. The other people had normal-colored hair such as black or brown. Only freaks had flamboyant-colored hair from birth.
Thanks, mom.
The Farron sisters had a lot of trouble growing up in Bodhum; the other kids mocked their hair color because they weren't normal. How could they be? Their mom had rose-colored hair. Lightning only guessed her mom's pink-colored hair was the dominant trait and yadda yadda yadda. They were born; born to be teased by the 'Bodhum Bullies' Club', a society consisted of mainly prepubescent children with one task in mind: To drive the Farron sisters crazy. No matter how badly they were bullied, the two sisters preserved. Lightning got into major fist fights with the boys and their dick moves, trying their best to win against the rampaging female. They severely lost (along with a couple of baby teeth and nasty gashes on their face and arms).
Her eyes soon traveled down to her body, hidden behind the old t-shirt. She didn't have much to say about her physique, to be quite honest. The only thing she knew was the fact she wasn't perfect and because of that, she was alright with it. Lightning had no desire to look super attractive, no, which was foolish. Besides, does the outside really count? No.
"Now, where's that comb?"
Looking around, her favorite comb was on the floor. Rolling her eyes, Lightning reached for it and stood up again only to find something severely off. Her body was frozen.
"What the hell?" Lightning voiced.
She tried moving her arms and legs but proved futile. Was it a cramp? No, this was different. Grunting, she had difficulty swallowing saliva. What was going on?
"So, you are Etro's Champion?"
Lightning blinked. In the mirror, there was a reflection of a man sitting in the chair behind her. Her eyes widened in sheer terror at the man in black with deep purple accents and a menacing sword leaning against the wall. Expressionless, his hawk-like gaze drilled holes into the back of her skull. Struggling to break free from her frozen state, Lightning ground her teeth and desperately tried to move. The man in black merely watched her battle against the invisible constraints.
"Pitiful,"
Lightning wanted to shriek! Taking in deep breaths, Lightning was in hysterics but she had no way of showing it. Struggling against the bonds, she locked her eyes with his cold gaze in the mirror.
"W-What do… you w-want…?"
"She speaks," The man pushed out of the chair and head directly to her.
Standing right behind her, he looked down at her pathetic, feeble form.
"W-Who?"
"Should I kill you?" The man whispered. "Do you deserve a quick, painless death or a slow, painful one?"
With a click of his fingers, Lightning was animated again. Slumping forward, Lightning caught her breath and immediately faced the man. He stood there, coldly staring into her terrified eyes.
"I will give you a head start, girl. You have ten seconds."
"What the hell are you talking—"
"Ten, nine, eight…"
Lightning violently shoved him away and made a mad dash out the door. Running down the hallway, Lightning heard the sound of her heart pound madly against her ribs. Turning her head around, she saw him stand at the end of hallway holding the menacing sword. He calmly took a step forward and disappeared.
The fuck?!
Rushing down the crème carpeted stairs, Lightning turned a sharp corner and breathed. Inhaling and exhaling, her fingers trembled. Pulling her fingers against her heart, she heard his footsteps. Immediately, her fingers shot to her mouth.
"Where are you, Warrior Goddess?"
Warrior Goddess?
"I know you are here, hiding like a coward."
Lightning listened intently to his wandering footsteps against the silence of her house. Hearing his footsteps cease around the corner, Lightning frantically looked around for a weapon to use. To her misfortune, nothing could be used to defend herself.
"There you are."
What was a girl supposed to do?! Stuck to the wall, Lightning's fingers shot to his hand grabbing her throat. She thrashed wildly, desperately trying to breathe and in the same time, spit out curses. Feeling herself airborne, Lightning made eye contact with the man. Her legs flailed around, trying her best to land a solid kick on his thigh.
"Get your fucking hand off me!"
He tightened his grip in response. Observing her struggle, he threw her across the room and Lightning collided into her couch. Rolling off it, she landed firmly on the light brown parquet floor, face first. Hastily pushing off the floor, Lightning snapped her head to the right and spotted her training sword. Without hesitation, she launched herself to the weapon, and dashed out of the house. Running against the cold, dry night wind, Lightning heaved and commanded her legs to run as fast as they could, away from the mad man. Sinking her steps into the sand, Lightning halted and breathed, eyes peeled to her bare feet. Did he follow her?
Hearing the sand crunch, she got her answer. Lightning's heart plummeted to the soles of her feet. Snapping around, Lightning's blue eyes locked on to the man, standing seven feet away from her.
"What do you want from me?!" Lightning yelled.
The man silently raised his sword, leveled with her rampaging, beating heart. "Your life,"
Lightning tightened her grip on the sword's leather hilt. "Over my dead body," she hissed.
The man watched her tightly grip the sword with both hands and raised it to level with his head. She trembled like a newborn fawn, pretending to stay brave in the eyes of the bloodthirsty predator. The man merely shuffled his stance; there was one thing he did give her credit for: The woman had guts. Dipping his head, he smirked in the shadows, amused by the situation. Taking a step forward, he accepted her little 'challenge'.
"Take one more step forward and you'll regret it," Lightning hissed, tightening her grip around the plastic hilt. "I'm warning you buddy, one more step and—"
"And you will do what?" he whispered from behind.
"What?!"
Lightning spun around and sliced air. Gulping a large pocket of air, Lightning heard the sand crunch behind her. Quickly spinning around, she tried to slash him but yet again, her sword came into contact with nothingness.
"You are more pitiful than I expected,"
Reappearing, the man swiftly disarmed her, twisting the silver blade out of her delicate wrist and forcefully shoved her into the sand. Falling down, Lightning whipped around and was face-to-face with the tip of his sword.
"You lost," he spoke coldly. "Although, I do admire your foolish courage to try and challenge me, knowing of the inevitable outcome."
"..."
"Sahagin caught your tongue?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you ready to die?"
"No," Lightning shook her head and pushed off the sand. "I'm not going to die on your terms,"
Lightning boldly gripped the sword and pushed it against her heart. The tip of the sword punctured through her shirt and her skin. Tightening her grip on the twisted metal, her blue eyes made contact with his deep, amethyst eyes. She was not backing down.
Fiercely making eye contact with the soon-to-be murderer, Lightning stated, "I'm going to die on my terms. If you're going to kill me, then do it. I'm not afraid."
"Foolish girl," The man muttered. "Your heart is beating faster than your reasoning."
Lightning knew he was right but she chose to ignore it. "That doesn't scare me." Pulling the blade closer, Lightning winced at the pain erupting from the fresh wound. "Go ahead, kill me."
Lightning closed her eyes. This was it. She expected to feel the jagged sword violently driven through her body and blood exploded from her frame, followed by a pile of guts toppling onto the sand below. She imagined her bleeding body shrieking in pain before she succumbed to a violent death. Swallowing a thick ball of spit, Lightning remained unmoved, waiting for him to end it all. Lightning waited, and waited… and waited. What was he waiting for?
"You are courageous, girl." he spoke quietly, examining her determined face. Yanking the sword away from her tight grip, the man spoke. "I will not kill you today,"
Lightning opened her eyes. "W-What?" Truthfully, she was relieved to hear those words.
Walking away from her, the man returned the sword onto his back. Crossing his arms, he said, "Did you not hear me? I decided to not kill you today,"
She blinked. Watching him turn around, he had the smuggest look on his face. Lightning immediately knitted her eyebrows.
"Perhaps, I should give you a chance to fend for yourself, girl." he spoke.
Lightning dipped her head, breathing out a sigh of relief. Her heart continued to pound madly inside her chest; she thought she was going to die. Hearing the sand crunch again, she boosted off the wet sand, and eyed the stranger.
"But, make no mistake, Claire Farron," The man turned around, locking his eyes with hers. "I will come back and kill you. I advise you be best prepared,"
The man took a bold step forward and vanished with the wind. Lightning fell onto her knees with her heart sending thunderous beats to her ear. Her fingers shook, followed by her arm and body. Was it over? Was the threat gone? Slumping forward, Lightning didn't know what to do. Her mind transformed into a confused mess of emotions, with fear predominantly swimming through her turbulent thoughts. He made it clear he wasn't going to kill her today, but he would return later to kill her. The man, as cruel as he projected out to be, was merciful, Lightning convinced herself. He gave her a chance to fend for herself, knowing if Lightning decided to go head-to-head with him, she would definitely lose. Not only would she lose her dignity, but ultimately, she would lose her life.
Getting a hold of herself, she shook her head and pushed off the broken sand with her sword clenched tightly in her grasp. No, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. She had much to live for; there was no way she would allow herself to die, no, not on his terms. Making her way back to her house, Lightning's mind was fixed on today's encounter. Like any other person who looked at death straight in the face, Lightning was going to do the opposite; she was going to use this fear to become ammunition and become stronger. She was going to hone in her skills and prove to the assassin she had much to live for. Nobody had the right to tell her to quit; not family, not friends and certainly, not a quick-tongued assassin, sent to end her life.