Chapter Nine: Old Rivals
In the anger and strife that threatened to suffocate him, there was one who looked upon him with a smile. Having this single person around made every other hardship seem petty and not quite as painful as he once thought. There was something about Selphie Tilmitt, something he couldn't begin to understand, that made him actually glad to be alive. Before her smile distracted him from the horrors he was once a part of, life glared down at him, demanding why he still breathed when he should be dead. He wanted to stop the constant mistrust, anger, and antagonism that plagued him.
Now things were different. His nightmares were decreasing and living seemed more like a privilege than a curse. Perhaps one of the best parts of having Selphie around was that no one tried to attack him any longer. Instead she hounded them with her petition until they either ran away or signed it. Seifer never got tired of watching her and she seemed to never get tired of moving or talking.
A few cheerful words from Selphie were enough to destroy thousands of harsh ones that were thrown at him. Her laugh easily took care of any jeers that rang in his mind. And her presence... oh, her presence was the thing that Seifer treasured most. Just being near her made his troubles seem so far away that he would never have to worry about them again, and every moment they were together was a blessing. He couldn't understand why he felt this way, but it didn't seem like something he should worry about. He was happy for the first time in a long, long while and he didn't want to ruin it.
He quietly walked down the halls of Balamb Garden, smiling at all the familiar rooms he passed. There were so many memories in this place. He and the other members of the posse roamed these very halls not long ago, capturing students that were skipping class and chasing even more out of the "secret place". Funny that the only good memories he had of this place were when he was making someone's life miserable. I guess that's just the sort of person I am: I make people unhappy, no matter what I do. He tried not to dwell too long on that subject. Hey, I wonder who's on the disciplinary committee now?
Whoever it was, they weren't doing a good job. His keen eyes already spotted several students skipping class. He couldn't do a thing about it but inside he ached to drag them down to the detention area. There was something oddly satisfying about dragging a helpless student away, they kicking and squirming and calling for help the whole way. Seifer chuckled to himself. He could vividly remember the last time he put someone in detention. How ironic that the person was none other than Zell Dincht, who Seifer caught skipping class. Seifer couldn't help but smile. Yes, he admitted to himself he would miss being on the disciplinary committee. Maybe we'll be allowed to do it again if we're allowed back in the Garden, he thought hopefully. But even if they were, things couldn't be the same. Things would never be the same as they were, no matter what Selphie or anyone else did.
"It's been a long time, Seifer."
Seifer heard his name spoken by a familiar voice. That voice brought back memories, good and bad. Seifer gently touched the scar on his face. The speaker gave him the scar, but there was so much more enmity between them than just a little skirmish. They were on even worse terms than Zell and Seifer, if that were even possible. Sometimes they could understand each other but mostly they just pissed each other off. Seifer wanted desperately to have Hyperion at his side but unfortunately the gunblade was lost forever.
He calmly turned around to face his foe. Squall Leonhart. This man also bore a scar, one that Seifer gave him in a "friendly" duel. Squall returned the favor, and now they mirrored each other. Seifer stared at Squall coldly, and Squall stared right back at him. The two barely moved. Their faces bore the same cold expression and the way they stood was identical as well. Squall carried his gunblade at his side but his hands were away from the handle. It was like an Old West showdown, only Seifer carried no weapon on him. Squall could go for hours without saying a single word and Seifer was extremely stubborn; the two of them could likely stand just as they were for hours. They didn't move or even blink and only the slight rise and fall of their chests showed that they were alive and not some human statues.
"It's been a while, Squall," Seifer commented at last.
"Why are you here?" the dark-haired teen questioned him. Seifer couldn't detect a hint of anger in the other man's voice, or even curiosity. Squall was like him, in some ways. They could both show as little or as much emotion as they chose. Their weapon of choice was the gunblade, and at one point they both bore feelings for the same girl, although their distant personalities would suggest otherwise. Of course Seifer's old feelings for Rinoa were limited to a brief infatuation while Squall eventually fell in love.
"I wanted to say good-bye," Seifer answered. Which was true, but Seifer was unwilling to tell Squall the other reason he was still here. Thinking of Selphie made him wish she was here with him now.
"To who?"
"You, and Zell, and all the others."
"I see," Squall mused, nodding in understanding. They grew quiet again. Seifer glanced at the gunblade Squall was sporting.
"You've got the Lionheart."
"Yeah. Where's Hyperion?"
"I lost it."
"Too bad. It was a good weapon."
"It was," Seifer agreed. There was another pause. Why is he standing there? Why doesn't he just cut my head off? Seifer wondered. He shook his head. Great. Where'd I get that weird idea? "So... what do you want?"
"I was going to challenge you to a duel," Squall confessed.
"Headmaster Cid made an announcement that no one in the Garden was to hurt us, or did you not hear that?" Seifer snapped irritably.
"It has nothing to do with the sorceress," Squall argued. "I just want a rematch."
"Nothing to do with the sorceress?" Seifer couldn't believe his ears. I don't get it. What happened to Rinoa was all my fault. Isn't he the least bit mad about that? Squall was too enigmatic for even Seifer to try and understand him.
"That's right," Squall replied with another nod.
"But what about Rinoa? What I did to her?"
"That doesn't matter anymore. All I want is a rematch. I can get you a gunblade so it'll be fair." A rematch. Real payment for his scar. Seifer still didn't get it. Best not to think about it. Fighting Squall again would be interesting. If the chicken-wuss improved so much, I wonder how good Squall is? He opened his mouth to accept, but something stopped him. Something he remembered Selphie saying to him: Don't get into any more fights. He promised her he wouldn't. A promise made to one of the few people who didn't want him dead. He couldn't break another promise to her. He remembered all too well her sad expression the last time he did that, and couldn't bear to see that look again.
"I won't fight you, Squall."
"Won't fight?" Squall echoed in surprise.
"No. I won't fight you."
"Why not?"
"Because..." Seifer paused, trying to think of a reason that would satisfy Squall. "Because... I made a promise to someone, and I don't want to break it."
"Oh. Well... all right, I guess." Squall smiled ever so slightly. Seifer knew Squall for a long time, and never once did he ever remember seeing the other man smile. "I understand about promises." Seifer shook his head in bewilderment.
"Squall, you've changed."
"Yeah," Squall agreed. "Love can do that to you." He quietly walked away, leaving Seifer to ponder over his words.
