The Past Returns
He hadn't known what to make of it when he had gotten the letter, delivered to his tiny apartment in Fisherman's Horizon two months ago. The perfect cream-colored envelope and card inside had been so out of place in his run-down, stained apartment. It had announced the happy nuptials and included his ticket to the wedding as well as money for the trip there. Seifer had thought snidely that of course she could afford to pay for him to come. She was well-loved by the people of New Galbadia, reunited with the rich father she had once scorned and the perfect fairytale princess.
Seifer had never once thought any sorceress would woo the people from their fear and ignorance. Rinoa had, but it was just a part of what made her herself. Of course, he hadn't spoken to her in four years and had no idea why she would invite him to her wedding. He thought of Squall Leonhart in detached terms—it had been too long since he had given him attention, it was almost like he had never really known him.
He didn't use Rinoa's money. Instead, a bit before the wedding he bought his own ticket on a ship heading to Balamb. He spent a weekend with Fujin and Raijin, talking about old times. They were SeeD. For all the good it did them, Seifer always thought. They were happy with their lives, though, and he couldn't begrudge them that, and they let him get away with all the caustic remarks. Fujin was as private and shy as ever and Raijin, falling over himself in love with Fujin, was still able to make Seifer almost cry with laughter. It was funny, Seifer thought as they said their goodbyes, how the things he had expected to change hadn't.
He spent one day deciding and then caught the train to Timber, now a bustling city rivaling Deling City, which had also done its fair share of growing. Seifer had left Deling City after his inexplicable pardon from war time crimes; he never expected to return. He still didn't understand his release and had never had it explained to him. He had left the city right around the time of the election. He had no idea who the man running against General Caraway had been, but it had to be better than Deling, who Seifer remembered in the fuzzy way he recalled all his memories of that time. Caraway hadn't won, in any case, and Seifer still didn't know the other guy's name. He found it amusing that Timber still wasn't free even as it prospered.
The trip to Winhill took a little longer, into the rural areas of New Galbadia. He thought of Squall as the travel van he had bought a ticket on rocked over a rough road that was obviously not meant for heavy vehicles. He thought back over the past few years as the van traveled toward his destination. Squall had spent four months in the spotlight, Seifer recalled. The famous Commander of Balamb Garden that has saved the world from the evil sorceress. Seifer imagined it was largely Squall's subsequent disappearance from the public eye, replaced by Rinoa, which had caused the love for him to shift to her. Seifer didn't have to wonder why he had vanished.
A few hours later, he arrived in Winhill. It was nothing like he remembered—it was like a completely new town. It still had all its small town charm, but it was more refined now. He stood on a cobblestone sidewalk that looked new as his fellow travelers dispersed around him into the small crowds. The shops were all brightly painted, windows shining, and Seifer had to wonder whether or not it was normal or if it was because the wedding of the century was happening in a field right outside of town later that week. He shrugged and headed down the sidewalk in the direction the van operator had said the inn was.
It didn't take long to find; it was new and massive, easily the largest building in the town. He saw it as he turned a corner, expecting to eventually run into the wear and tear of the old Winhill. When he saw it, he stopped, a little taken aback that the village could have changed so much. Then again, it had been four years.
He started toward the green sign flapping in the breeze that proclaimed the building as the Winhill Hotel. So much for Inn, Seifer thought, and his eyes brushed across the front of the building. He barely noticed when he stopped and stared at the people by the entrance.
The man was familiar enough—and dammit, he didn't want to deal with Zell Dincht while he was here, period. The girl was different. She looked familiar somehow, long brown hair pulled back from her face by huge clips, but Seifer couldn't place her at first. Then she bounced a little, said something loud and Zell grinned at her and took off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. He left her swaying in the breeze, the long yellow dress that left little to the imagination up top flowing around her.
Selphie Tilmitt, Seifer thought, as she headed back into the hotel. His day had just gotten one hundred times worse.