Disclaimer: I don't own FFIX. But everything not associated with IX (original plot, etc.) does belong to me.
Freya makes an appearance in this chapter. I always did like her (and red mage outfits are pretty cool too.) Please enjoy and review!
Chapter Four: Something Missing
Zidane surveyed the site of the airship crash as the ceaseless rains of Burmecia soaked him to the bone. It wasn't fair to call it a crash; it had been shot down, after all. The Black Mages were proving to be quite versatile.
"You said it was traveling from Lindblum?" he asked Captain Steiner. Captain wasn't a very accurate definition of Adelbert Steiner's rank these days, but no one had given him a new one, so the name stayed even though his responsibilities had grown.
Not that Zidane had noticed a positive change in competence. But it was better for Zidane that an incompetent, loyal idiot was in charge.
"Yes, from Lindblum. Mostly cargo, but there were a few recorded passengers."
Zidane rolled his eyes. "Like the people we shot this airship down for would be in the logs. I'm going to see if there were any survivors."
"What do you mean?"
Zidane had already started walking away, but he turned around. "The princess? That traitor mage? You know, those people," he snapped and continued trudging through the muddy rubble. "You stay out there in the rain, your armor's going to get even more rusty than it already is."
With little regard for personal safety, he ducked into the main vessel. He found a few bodies; crew members mostly. But in the back, he saw something silver glinting in the mess that made him smile. Kuja wasn't dead; Zidane was lucky, but not that lucky.
"Come on, get up," Zidane called out and nudged Kuja's ribcage with his foot. As he did, he looked around. No sign of the princess or that little doll anywhere. After a few minutes without any signs of waking from Kuja, Zidane grudgingly squatted down.
"All right, what's your problem?" Zidane demanded. "You're not bleeding, you don't look like you've sustained a serious head injury, you're breathing…"
Zidane wrinkled his nose and looked around. He found a smashed earthenware mug and found the remnants of tea leaves inside. There were ordinary leaves, nothing special, except for one. And Zidane laughed.
"Well, I'll be. You've been drugged. Did the princess slip out on you? I wonder why," Zidane murmured. "Maybe she got cold feet and she's trying to return to her mother. Talk some sense into her…? Go ahead and try, princess. Just make sure you bring that pendant with you."
He hadn't counted on Kuja being unconscious. "Wake up, clueless," Zidane called out as he shook Kuja's shoulders. "Your fancy plan's a washout and your princess has made you look like a fool. Now open your eyes so I can figure out if you have the ability to trance or not—"
"Zidane, can I ask what you are doing?" Steiner asked.
Abruptly dropping the still-unconscious Kuja, Zidane looked innocently over his shoulder. "Looks like we shot this one down for more than just target practice. I found the mage…"
At that moment, Kuja stirred. Zidane watched him wince as he opened his eyes, scrabble for a hold on his surroundings. Then he said, "Rusty, this mage is pretty dangerous. Why don't you let me handle things?"
"Dangerous? What's he going to do, heal you?" Steiner asked in disbelief.
"Don't try to be funny, you're not. And don't assume that just because you've never seen him cast black magic that he can't, and that he isn't very, very good at it."
Then Zidane ignored him. "Hey, Kuja. Rise and shine, princess. And show me just how good your control is…"
He stepped back and flipped the blade of one of his daggers in his palm. They were a little heavy for throwing around, but they'd do fine.
"…over that black magic of yours," Zidane smirked and let it fly.
Kuja had barely dragged his torso up enough to face Zidane before he threw his hand out, his fingers wide in a defensive array. The dagger struck a pearlescent shield and ricocheted askew; it almost struck Steiner.
"What'd I tell you, Rusty?" Zidane called over his shoulder.
As Steiner backed out of the ruined airship cavity, Zidane slung the second dagger through the air. But by that time, Kuja had gathered himself to his feet. He deflected the second one right back at Zidane.
"Sure that's how you're supposed to use white magic? You could've hurt me right there," Zidane chided him as he sidestepped and caught the handle as the dagger flew at him. "But you're the expert, I'm sure."
He lunged down and snapped the other dagger off the floor with his tail; he flipped it back into his palm and stood up again.
"What are you trying to prove?" Kuja demanded, and disappeared in a ribbon of blue light. He manifested at Zidane's back; now Zidane was the one closest to the far wall.
A luminescent arc rushed from his hands and formed a sphere around Zidane: a reversed protection spell that contained everything inside. "What does my magic have to do with anything? Where's the princess?" Kuja wanted to know.
"I can't believe you're still playing the idiot. You must have been doing this for so long you actually believe your act now," Zidane muttered and held out his arms in defeat. He dropped the daggers.
"All right, I surrender. Just give me a second, and I promise I'll explain everything. Not that you won't wish I hadn't by the time I'm done talking."
Kuja sighed impatiently, and the magic from the shield fled back to his open palms. "There. Now tell me: where's the princess?"
Zidane turned around and gave Kuja a long, pitying look. "Kuja, she bailed on you back in Lindblum."
Then he drew the pistol at his belt and fired.
The bullet shattered in a storm of energy. "What do you take me for?" Kuja shouted at him as the resulting smoke settled. But by the time the air was clear, Zidane had disappeared, the daggers along with him.
Kuja frowned thoughtfully. "Good. Get out of here, coward," he murmured. After what must have been minutes passed in rain-pattered near-silence, he sighed wearily and closed his eyes. The tension between his shoulder blades visibly relaxed.
He barely summoned the white magic to defend himself in time. Zidane charged him with both daggers, and the white magic that Kuja summoned forth was nothing more than a small shield that broke and had to be called forth again after each strike.
"Come on, I know it's in there," Zidane said angrily.
"Know—what's—in me? You don't know what you're—talking about—" Kuja retorted as he staggered backwards after each blow. The soggy wood slipped under his foot, and he fell backwards.
An electric jolt surged through Zidane's daggers and the etched spell for protection along the hilt shattered. Zidane dropped them immediately. "That," he laughed. "Those were expensive, you know. You shouldn't use thunder black magic around here, with all this water lying around. Someone could get electrocuted."
Kuja didn't seem to hear him. His eyes had gone wide, his voice had locked shut.
"That's some pretty nice black magic you've got there, brother," Zidane told him.
"…brother?" Kuja whispered. "No," he insisted, and shook his head. "You don't even look like me. You're making this up," he sighed. "You're insane."
"What, just because a guy actually looks like a man, that means he can't be your darling little brother? I've got news for you, Kuja," Zidane said, and drew his pistol once more. He lowered it until it nestled against Kuja's forehead. "I don't have magic, but this gun does. So looks don't matter much, because there's only one family resemblance that's going to save you."
Zidane pulled the trigger and shielded his eyes with his other hand, but not quickly enough to protect them from the sudden rush of white light that flooded the dank cavity. The dredges of water on the soggy floor immediately phased into steam.
The light ebbed, and he looked down. A white-feathered being like an angel torn asunder from its wings returned Zidane's stare with glassy eyes that didn't really register the surroundings.
"The first time you trance is always a little disorienting, don't worry," Zidane reassured him mockingly. "And without a visible threat, you'll slip out in a second or two. Oh—there you go."
Zidane watched as Kuja's steady glare dropped into close-eyed oblivion.
"It's just too bad for you that people tend to pass out after their first trance," Zidane added as he slid the pistol back into its holster and knelt down next to Kuja. He slipped his arms underneath Kuja's shoulders and knees. "Come on, let's go, big brother. We've got things to do, kingdoms to destroy."
But then he wondered; how was he going to get Kuja out of here without turning him over to the Alexandrian forces?
"Garland's going to be so pissed off when he realizes what I'm using his magic for," Zidane chuckled as he withdrew his hand and searched in his pocket for a perfectly round stone. There was the silhouette of a crescent moon, surrounded by concentric circles of ancient Terran text.
"The Invincible," Zidane ordered the charm as it emitted a pale blue light. When the light faded, Kuja was gone along with the charm.
An hour later, Zidane wiped the blood from his now-ordinary daggers in the soggy grass. These Burmecian knights really knew how to fight. After Kuja, he needed something to distract him. With the rush of adrenaline and the heat of blood, it was easy to forget why he was here and just who it was all for.
No, this is for me, he corrected himself. This is to make sure I don't have to live my life in his shadow after Terra is reborn.
If the princess had bailed on Kuja to return to Alexandria, he hoped that she had been quick about it. The sooner he had those summons, the sooner he could end this torture.
He recalled his last conversation with Queen Brahne before he left for Burmecia. After Burmecia, he had told her, it would be best to lead attacks on Lindblum and Treno simultaneously. She had asked about Cleyra; he had dismissed them, saying that they would not interfere with the happenings of the rest of the continent.
In reality, he had dismissed Cleyra because their population was negligible. And what he hadn't told Queen Brahne was that a third city would be added to that list: Alexandria.
He needed as many people to die in a short period of time as could be possible.
Maybe Mikoto would go back to being a soulless doll like the rest of the Genomes, but he wasn't going to let it happen. Perhaps it was Garland's time to go back to the cycle of souls, not Zidane.
Zidane knew the old man could be a pushover. He would take the Invincible and he would give new life to Terra on his own terms. With the souls in the Invincible combined with the soon-to-be-deceased souls from the cities, he wouldn't even need Garland's help. Garland could just sit back and watch while a real Angel of Death did the job right.
Another Burmecian knight stood in his way. He thought that they would have figured out that they were wasting their lives by now. But when he stared her in the eye, he flinched.
"Freya?" he called out.
He didn't know why it hurt him so much then that she didn't lower her spear. But she did say, "I was hoping I had remembered your face incorrectly, Zidane Tribal. Explain yourself; that's more than any other knight would give you."
Freya, the older rat girl that he had known from the first days he spent on Gaia integrating into the planet's culture. He had been nervous and egregious, even rude sometimes as he acclimated. But for some reason, the quiet Freya had never held any of that against him.
Zidane shrugged. "I guess any other knight didn't live next to me—how many years has it been? Aside from enough for you to become a knight in service of Burmecia, that is."
"Apparently it's also been long enough for you to change, as well," Freya told him coldly.
"I—" Zidane began. Then he changed his mind. "Freya, for what it's worth, you look really beautiful." And he wondered what he thought he was doing. This was hardly the time, but at that instant it felt incredibly important to him to find out if Freya liked him, whether as an old memory or anything else.
Freya only smiled bitterly. "Our current situation aside, now isn't a very romantic time for me. I've only just returned to Burmecia, you see. I would like to tell you that I've spent my past few years a gleaming champion in Burmecia's eyes, but I've been searching."
"Searching for what?" Zidane wanted to know. There had been something important in her life, and he had missed it. Where has this sentiment been hiding when he had used and abused his seedy business partners like handkerchiefs?
"For whom," Freya said ruefully. "I'm in love, you see. So when I do find him again, I want there to be a free Burmecia for him to defend alongside me. Which is why I'm here, I suppose, and you're on the other side of my spear."
Freya was in love.
When Zidane wiped her blood from his daggers, he didn't feel the rush of excitement that he had earlier. He just stood there in the rain, letting its cool touch caress him and remind that he was in fact alive.