Two weeks had passed since Squall's acceptance into SeeD, each day bringing with it a new manner of surprising and unexpected perk of his station. The obvious was him being assigned a single-room dormitory, which now gave Squall a measure of privacy. The school year was nearly over and while he was no longer required to attend regular classes, he did so out of habit.
May as well finish the curriculum, he thought.
Each passing day he noticed Quistis growing more and more sentimental. Her connection with her students was slowly slipping away as the daydreams of summer vacation enveloped their concentration like an insidious mist. With two days left to go, and final exams already completed, she gave up on lectures entirely and spent most of homeroom chatting away about holiday plans with her Trepies.
These were the days where Squall took advantage of his status, opting to leave early and flip through magazines in the library, or take in some additional combat training. As a SeeD, he enjoyed priority access to any of the functions within Balamb Garden, but he was a creature of habit.
On the last day of school, there was a midday graduation ceremony out in the Quad, followed by a ball to welcome the newest members of SeeD. The graduation ceremony was a humble affair, with a few tear-filled goodbyes for those older students who would not be returning for the fall semester. If one was not a SeeD by age twenty, they were required to leave, graduation or no. Headmaster Cid said a few words, most of which Squall ignored. He was not earning a degree from the school; SeeD admission making it somewhat of a moot point. Most of his time out in the midday sun was spent in quiet dread of the coming evening.
It came far too soon.
While the three Gardens had begun their lives many eons ago as shelters for the Centra people, most of their original layouts had been altered considerably in the course of their conversion. One of the most obvious changes was the conversion of a large storage area into an immaculate ballroom. Where once there had been a barren windowless hold of steel walls and grey beams now stood the Garden's shining symbol of excess. Columns made of jade serving less as support struts and more as decoration lined the outer perimeter. An enormous skylight with golden frames allowed for a stunning view of the night sky above. The polished marble floor reflecting its dancers as clear as a moonlit pond.
Massive arched windows with silvery drapes opened up the spacious room to the elements, with a few balconies for good measure. There was a stage near the western-most wall, lined with chairs for an orchestra who was busy tuning their instruments and warming up. A single great banner hung behind this wall bearing the SeeD insignia. Standards from every other nation stood in posts that lined the sides of the stage, in an effort to display Garden's far-reaching hand.
Squall had taken a few classes in this room when he was a younger boy of around thirteen or so. A nervous young instructor whose name he'd forgotten had attempted to teach him and his classmates the intricacies of music and dance. While the young orphan had managed to chirp out a few inexpertly spun notes on a Centran flute, he wasn't particularly fond of performance. Dancing was even worse. Once a dance began, he would be expected to join in. He opted to sit out along the sides of this room, acquainting himself with its impressive architecture. He appreciated the form of the ballroom but had come to loathe the spirit of the place.
And now, you won't exactly be able to hide, Squall mused, as he mingled with the crowd now gathering on the second-floor hallway.
The ballroom was on the southwestern side of the main building, its balconies offering a wonderful view of the Quad below. The position had been chosen by Cid, who said that the view of the sun setting behind the Gaulg Mountains was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever beheld. The man was a hopeless romantic at heart.
At the start of the ball would be the welcoming ceremony for the new SeeD members. Squall, Selphie, Zell, and Nida walked in a straight formation in order of their rank, Squall at the fore, Nida in the rear. Each of them wore their elaborate SeeD Dress Uniform. Black with gold ornamentation, and a particularly complex gold weave pattern on the shoulders; almost like pauldrons worn by knights of old. They marched down the western corridor of the second floor and were met with quite the welcoming party. The students who could not attend the ball created a sort of guard of honor; they were clapping, cheering and generally making a scene. The response was enthusiastic and heartening and while Squall was quite embarrassed to be leading the line, he did feel a slight glimmer of pride.
This was dampened somewhat at a passing sight as he made his way towards the ballroom proper. Seifer was being led by Xu and two yellow hoods down the opposite side of the hallway. Squall would find out later that he'd been trying to sneak in to visit somebody in the ball. The timing could not be more inconvenient, but it was made all the more uncomfortable as Seifer caught Squall's eye and gave him a slow, sarcastic clap, a hatred in his eyes that burned like Ifrit's flame.
But the moment passed as quickly as it came and within a few more steps they were at the entrance to the ballroom, with two more of the faculty members waiting outside. With an outstretched palm, they brought the queue to a halt. Technically Squall should have given the command, but he choked on the words. Still, the line came to a stop nonetheless.
The SeeD Ball was a rather select affair. SeeDs, their dates, and a few honors students were the only attendees of the academy permitted. The Garden Faculty was obviously in attendance and parents were permitted but priority went, naturally, to the parents of the recent graduates. Apart from that, there were a few dignitaries from other nations who were invited every year. This was, ostensibly, a courting effort on the part of Garden. It never hurts to suck up to potential customers.
Everybody who was allowed to attend the event donned the height of formal wear. Students and staff were in their dress uniforms. Though ball etiquette permitted female students to wear modest dresses, few of them actually did. The visiting parents and dignitaries were also dressed to the nines. Squall thought he saw Ma Dincht sporting a passing elegant brown dress with her hair done up in a neat bun. Nida was pointing out his father who wore a black suit and tie, which served as a contrast to his greying hair and thick mustache.
"He managed to get a pass from Galbadia," Nida was telling his date. "You know they don't let folks from Timber just travel as they please. Mom can't make it, of course, with her back the way it is. I guess Galbadia figured he wouldn't be a flight risk."
Squall had not considered these difficulties before. Well, he had, but always in the detached academic sense. He never bore witness to the struggles up close. There were a few folks from Timber in Garden, such as Nida, but they were always rather quiet when it came up to the topic of their hometown. He considered asking Nida how he had even been permitted to attend. What challenges had he faced in taking on this career path which separated him from loved ones who couldn't even freely write to him?
It's none of your business, Squall thought resolutely before turning his attention back to the line.
A musical four-tone chime sailed through the halls; it was now 2100. One of the Garden Faculty took a commanding position at the front of the line and raised his arms for attention.
"Those who will not be attending the ball this evening must now vacate the hallway," he ordered. His voice had a grating nasal quality that an authoritative demeanor did little to undermine. "You are dismissed!"
With a familiar downtrodden look, the crowd filed out of the hallway and returned to their duties or dormitories. Within a few minutes, all that remained was the line of SeeD members and a handful of late arrivals. The din from inside quieted; Xu was likely calling for silence from within.
The voice of Headmaster Cid rang crisp and clear through the hall, amplified by the intercom system.
"Good evening all! Mayor Arctu Keaton of Balamb, Ambassador Uma of the Shumi Tribe, Headmistress Ami Lorraine of Trabia Garden, visiting parents, staff and students! Welcome to the Eighth SeeD Ball!"
Despite being operation for twelve years, only recently had the efforts of SeeD been worthy of such a gathering. In its early days, SeeD was viewed as a simple mercenary force, and a particularly unethical one as it primarily recruited children. But Cid's gift for diplomacy had managed to slowly win over the public trust, to the point where bi-annual balls for the program were considered one of the mandatory public events of any upcoming socialite. Though there were some noticeable holdouts; nobody from Galbadia ever attended.
Cid gave the tiniest of coughs before adding. "Headmaster Dodonna Martine of Galbadia Garden sends his regrets at being unable to attend. As does Duke Gestalt of Dollet. They will both be missed, but certainly they have more pressing matters to attend to."
"Without further ado, I would like to introduce our newest members. If you would turn your attention to the doors," Cid instructed.
The ballroom doors opened, the massive crowd turned towards the queue and Squall swallowed his emotions. This was intimidating certainly, but if he had braved a battlefield, he could handle a bit of spotlight, nerve-wracking though it was.
"Captain Squall Leonhart," Cid announced, and Squall moved forward dutifully. He made his way down the parted sea of party-goers to the center of the ballroom, standing to attention behind and slightly to the right of Cid on the stage. "Captain Leonhart bravely defended his squad against an impossibly powerful Galbadian machine, risking life and limb to protect his comrades. A valorous act befitting his new title."
There was a round of applause for him. Squall Leonhart, seventeen years old. Barely an adult, and now supposed to act as a leader.
"You have a title," Ifrit whispered. "That does not make you a leader. Lest you forget and stumble down the same path as the other."
The other. Squall tried to ignore Ifrit. He had spoken with Instructor Faust who had recommended that he simply stop heeding the jinn's poking and prodding. Eventually, he would stop hearing all but the most calamitous cries from the being. To that end, Squall had made a conscious effort to stop responding to Ifrit. But something about that description of Seifer stuck with him.
The other. The one who you could have so easily become if you weren't alone. He could picture it now. He could have grown up with a posse of his own. Perhaps Zell and Quistis tagging around him like his own little Raijin and Fujin. They would have bolstered his confidence and fed him well-intentioned exaggerations of his talents. He would've grown fat on a diet of meaningless praise and undeserved adulation and before long he would have believed his own myth. Perhaps he, like Seifer, would have described it as a "romantic dream". As it was, Squall didn't have dreams. He had goals that he attained by remaining focused.
And I did it alone.
Ifrit made a smug noise that Squall didn't much like.
"First Lieutenant Selphie Tilmitt," Cid called. As Selphie made her way into position, he continued. "Lieutenant Tilmitt volunteered for a dangerous assignment during which she was wounded in combat. Furthermore, she used an incredible natural gift to protect her allies against an onslaught that would surely have killed them."
Another round of applause. Selphie wore a childish grin but otherwise remained relatively composed compared to her usual self. She might have even bordered on graceful, had she not almost tripped over the threshold into the ballroom.
"Second Lieutenant Zell Dincht," Cid continued. "Lieutenant Dincht displayed unwavering character in the face of extreme scrutiny but never failed to perform his duty. Such integrity is rare and commendable."
Extreme scrutiny? I guess that means that Zell earned his position by standing up to Seifer and me.
Zell was beaming at the praise, but his hands were twitching a little bit. He was either as nervous as Squall, or he was repressing the urge to wave to his mother.
"Second Lieutenant Nida Alworth," Cid called. "Lieutenant Alworth took over at the helm of one of the escape vessels when the helmsman was injured. His initiative saved those on board."
A modest achievement. It was certainly one that had saved lives, but Squall could see why his was the lowest test result. Though he had to admit he was impressed that this young-looking student was able to handle the helm of the transport vessels, which were notoriously complex in their operation.
"This perennial gala is in celebration of these newest members to join the prestigious ranks of the SeeD Mercenary Force. They are no mere dogs of war, but an elite collection of the best and brightest young soldiers. While we have only been in operation for a little more than a decade, our influence has been felt the world over. While we are few in number, experience has shown that a single SeeD operative is worth a company of enlisted grunts. No offense meant to my fellow Headmasters," Cid smiled and toasted his cohorts and there was an echoing chuckle from the crowd.
Headmistress Lorraine was sitting nearest to Cid on the stage and favored him with a congenial smirk. She seemed a lovely woman, wearing a modest blue ball gown. Opposite her was a vacant chair, draped in a small blue cloth with the Galbadian Sigil. Squall had seen photographs of Headmaster Martine in the student directory. He always wore a crisp naval uniform with a dress jacket. He had been a vice-admiral during the Sorceress War and then turned Headmaster for the school that seemed to exclusively churn out Galbadian soldiers. Squall wondered nervously how many of his former pupils Squall and his comrades had killed during their exam.
No wonder he didn't attend.
That was, of course, the awkward part of being a mercenary force. Your enemy today could be your ally tomorrow and vice versa. Squall had heard of one of the first SeeD examinations being assisting the Galbadian military with quashing an uprising in Winhill, one of their captured settlements. There seemed to be an unspoken rule among all the soldiers to let the battle today leave your thoughts tomorrow. But that was easier said than done, and something about that battle felt decidedly more ominous than the usual tests. If Galbadia was making new power plays, then the existence of a military force who would work for anybody was clearly a threat to them. Especially one who had so very nearly beaten them with only a handful of trainees.
The crowd was beginning to stir, and Cid seemed to sense the impatient expression from the orchestra conductor behind him. "Well, anyway, I think that will be all for now. Warmest of welcomes to our new SeeD initiates. Let the ball commence."
The crowd began to mingle as the ensemble began to play a slow waltz, one of the more popular old melodies that Squall had heard many times before. The tune had been one of the first things Squall learned to play on the flute all those years ago. It was named the Waltz for the Moon and had been composed around two hundred years ago. The Centran culture had a strange fascination with the moon, likely due to the cycle of the Lunar Cry. It was a morbid thought to be certain, considering how the civilization would meet its untimely end a mere century after the piece's composition. Squall glanced through the skylight window above him and couldn't help but notice that the moon seemed even larger than it had that night in Dollet. While not every cycle resulted in a Lunar Cry, there was always the chance. It wasn't quite close enough to be sure yet, but soon.
His mind returned to the more immediate concern of the social obligations. He had never been to this function before as a guest; he was not really a ball person. Accordingly, he made his way to the nearest wall to observe. He was expected to be in attendance, but he had no desire to begin dancing.
As he leaned back and got something approaching comfortable, he was approached by a young waitress carrying a tray of wine flutes. Her neat bobbed hair bounced with every step as she attempted to navigate the crowded dance floor in high heeled shoes. Her blue blouse was already beginning to cling to her.
"Winhill White, Captain?"
Squall was not much of a drinker, but this was a special occasion and he took one gratefully. As she walked away, he took a sip with one hand and touched the rank insignia on his collar – two silver shields – with the other. The crisp but demanding flavor of the fermented berries shook him from his stupor. There was an initial bitterness and Squall wondered briefly how anybody could enjoy this. Squall had been assured that wine was an "acquired taste". This was adult-speak for "difficult but desirable" and Squall was certainly not a quitter. He took another sip. He wanted some solitude almost as soon as he set foot in this ballroom but that was clearly foolishness. As if to punctuate his own bitter thought, Zell approached him next.
"So, we're SeeD members now, eh Captain Leonhart?" Zell teased.
Squall noticed that the single bronze shield on Zell's collar seemed unusually bright, as though he had spent the better part of the afternoon polishing it.
"Man, it's weird, huh. You outrank me now," Zell said.
We're both SeeDs so what does it matter, Squall thought but he simply took another sip from his glass. He could possibly bring himself entertain conversation, and after all this was supposed to be a celebration. But he could not imagine what in the world he would want to discuss with Zell Dincht at the moment.
"Same old Squall," Zell sighed. "I realize this probably isn't your scene. Fine, I'll leave you alone buddy. But try to chin up, right? Hey, maybe one day we'll do a mission together!"
Not if I have any say in it.
Zell shot him a casual farewell salute and was about to leave when Selphie showed up. Somehow amid the sea of people far more interesting than him, Squall found himself to be the epicenter of idle curiosity.
"Hey, Zell! Do you want to help out with the Garden Festival?" Selphie asked.
"Uh. Garden Festival?" Zell asked.
"Yeah, you know I'm on the committee now!" Selphie smiled.
"Uh, maybe. Hey, listen I have to go and uh... I really want to talk to that Shumi Ambassador. You know they have the coolest mining technology. Uh, later," Zell adopted a strange pace that seemed unwilling to commit to either running or walking and made his way towards the far side of the room.
Selphie cast her glance over to Squall. "Maybe I should have told him you signed up."
Squall had not ever actually settled on that. In fact, when he thought about their chance encounter in the cafeteria a few days prior, he seemed to recall outright refusing her. He chose not to press the point. Squall felt a bit more comfortable talking to the excitable young transfer more than the other girls in his class, and much more than Zell besides. She was definitely a bit on the hyper side for Squall's taste, but he felt a slight bit of almost brotherly affection for her childlike wonder at the place.
"Well, thanks for getting rid of him for me either way," Squall replied, hoping he sounded casual.
"Aw, you shouldn't say that!" Selphie smiled. "We're all SeeDs now. You should be celebrating!"
Squall lifted his glass of vintage as if to silently say "I am. This is me celebrating."
"Well fine then, Captain," Selphie teased.
Is my rank really that fascinating?
"But I really hope I see you dancing with some cute girl before the night is over." Selphie's features took on a sly, conspiratorial smirk. "And then maybe you could take her back to your new dormitory!"
Squall choked slightly on his drink. "You might have finished that thought one sentence sooner."
"Just trying to loosen you up. You're so stiff!" Selphie replied. "I'm gonna go find somebody to dance with. Hope to see you out there!"
There was definitely more to that one than she let on. Still, Squall had to admit he found her obnoxious irritating cheerfulness to be somewhat endearing.
Somewhat.
Squall took another sip of the wine as she walked off, head held high. The young mage had apparently spotted a suitable target. She delivered one borderline violent slap to the back of an older SeeD member, a First Lieutenant like her. The dark-haired boy made an open gesture with his hands and then nodded and the two were off onto the dance floor.
She gets what she wants.
He gave another scan of the room, first noticing Cid, Zell and Ambassador Uma engaged in some banter. The Shumi were an interesting race of people. While they were essentially human-like, their skin was a bright yellow and had a rubbery quality to it. Normal Shumi citizens were actually rather small, standing about a head shorter than Selphie. However, some of their race were dubbed Elders and stood quite a bit taller, dwarfing even giants like Raijin. Uma was one such Elder, sporting a full-body tunic of green with a white stripe running down his chest, stopping in a point just above his navel. He had a large air sack under his chin, and the most pronounced feature of the Elders: enormous hands. One of his hands could have cradled a five-year-old boy with ease.
Squall couldn't help but notice his peculiar stance; his hands were clasped together and resting on his stomach as he spoke, and his head leaned forward as he spoke. Perhaps this was part of the pacifist nature of the Shumi, an effort to appear as non-threatening as possible. They were not a race that Squall was overly familiar with, and he made a mental note to study them further, lest Zell insist on sharing every iota of cultural wisdom with him. Squall did wonder why a pacifist nation might be a potential client for Garden. But then the answer was obvious: Pacifism is a poor shield against tyranny.
His gaze was drawn skyward to the brilliant canvas shining through the clear glass skylight. Amid the celestial sparks came a dazzling shooting star, its tail of heavenly dust creating a brief arc over the night sky. He followed its path until it disappeared, and then his eyes dropped to a neutral level.
For a second it seemed as though the star had landed in the center of the ballroom, as the lights within reflected off a shimmering cream dress with a white-gold strap. As Squall's eyes focused, he saw a girl with ebony hair standing perfectly still, eyes cast to the heavens. Her gaze dropped almost at once, as if she felt his eyes on her and she turned to him. Her rose lips turned to a smile as she lifted a single finger to the ceiling, as if asking Squall if he had noticed it too.
He nodded.
She turned on the spot and began to approach him. The confident stride was uncomfortably similar to the way in which Selphie had pursued her prey. Squall pulled himself into a slightly more dignified standing position and held his glass out in front of him as if it were some kind of a crystal shield. The girl stood in front of him and put her hand to her cheek, as though she were evaluating him.
"Well, you're the best-looking guy here," she said finally. Her voice was firm but sweet. Squall did not really know how to respond to a compliment that was not about his performance on the battlefield.
"If you say so," Squall shrugged.
"I do say so," she said defiantly. "Care to dance?"
Squall took a sip of his drink and shook his head flatly.
"Oh, I get it," the girl smiled. "You only dance with girls you like, huh? Well then," she took two measured steps forward and put her hand on his chin. Her skin was soft, but her grip was firm.
"Look into my eyes," she commanded. And he did. They were dark brown but shone like gemstones. Her gaze was penetrating somehow, as though she could see through to his very soul. She continued in a hypnotic tone. "You're going to like me, you're going to like me... Did it work?"
"I can't dance," Squall lied.
"Oh, you'll do fine," she insisted. "I'm looking for somebody and I can't be on the dance floor alone."
And without another word, she grabbed his glass and set it on the tray of a passing waitress and then used her free hand to clasp Squall's palm. Before he had time to react, he was being dragged through the crowd towards the center of the dance floor, a rising sense of panic building in his gut. This was only made worse by him catching the eye of Selphie as they passed. She broke step with her partner for a moment to toss him a thumbs up before her partner reclaimed her hand and continued to lead. He thought for a moment the older boy would have trouble keeping Selphie under control before he remembered his own predicament.
Squall's captor put her left on his shoulder as she put his right hand on her waist. Their free hands interlaced, and she gave him a slight jerk to get him to try and lead. It was true that Squall could dance, quite well in fact. Not of his own volition, but among the various skills that were taught, dancing was expected behavior of officers, and it had its potential mission uses. He understood the mechanics of dancing perfectly fine. However, there were some mitigating factors that prevented his feet from communicating with his brain at the moment. He was on the spot, he had little idea what was going on, and his hand was on a beautiful girl's waist.
A few stumbling motions later and he was back in the real world, having collided headlong into another couple, two much older SeeD students.
"Hey, watch it Squall!" The man called with a good-natured smile.
But the humiliation had overtaken him, and Squall decided it was time to end the charade. He mumbled a word of apology and made his way back to his spot. The girl he was with was not about to give up so easily, gripping his hand and pulling him back. She was laughing slightly, obviously at his expense, but when she noticed Squall's expression, she had the good form to cease, giving him an encouraging smile.
"This would go a lot smoother if you lead," she said. "Just relax."
Something in Squall unlatched at this moment. Maybe it was the mayhem that his emotions were going through in these past few weeks, but he was completely off his guard. There was certainly a physical element to it: she was very attractive after all. But beauty had never affected him in such a way before. There was something else going on here. In a strange way, he felt like he knew her. He recognized her presence, her spirit. It was as if they had already met before, but it just had not happened yet.
In a single look, this starry-eyed girl had done what Quistis had failed to accomplish in years: Squall was defenseless.
He pulled himself together and took charge, leading her along the dance floor in a practiced waltz, finally displaying the proficiency that he had studied. They moved as light as air past the twin stairs leading up to the stage. The music of the orchestra carried them between the colonnades and the hanging flower arrangements with blossoms from every region. There was so much more to this room that Squall had never noticed before, in all of his years of studying it.
In the moment, this was no simple dance with some fellow student. This dance meant more to both of them than that. He pulled her close at the end of the orchestra's melody and fireworks lit up the sky above. Once again, they both looked towards the night, but something else had caught the girl's gaze.
"Oh, there he is!" She exclaimed. "Hey, this was fun, but I have to go."
"Uh," Squall sputtered. The sweet intoxication of fantasy was quickly wearing off.
"Sorry, I need to seize my chance with Headmaster Cid," she said. "I was actually supposed to speak to him earlier but my contact…"
There was an awkward bubble of silence that seemed to separate the two from the rest of the room.
She smiled. "Thanks for keeping me company! Maybe I'll see you again sometime?"
The gates had been closed and the wall rebuilt. He gave her a slight nod as she turned away from him, rushing up towards the stage, waving her hands to catch the Headmaster's attention.
The embarrassing moment was over. The flood of imaginary joy had drained from him as the cream dress disappeared into the sea of bodies. And now he felt very much like the other.
Squall's romantic dream was over.