Hold a Bruising Faith
By: Kyuketsuki
Disclaimer: I own neither Fushigi Yuugi nor Final Fantasy VIII. No profit is being made on this story.
Prologue:
Tasuki grumbled as he buttoned up his coat, amber eyes clouded with sleep. He ran a hand through his cropped locks and stumbled out the door, lazily noting that his roommate was already gone for the day. It was really no surprise to the young man, who had no good grasp on waking before noon. The clock beside the table reminded him that it was already past ten, but he paid it no heed. He was already late. What were another few minutes? He was much too tired to even consider hurrying.
Shutting the dorm room door behind him, he checked the corridors for students. It was mostly deserted, which did not surprise him in the least. It was Sunday and most of them were enjoying their time off or training.
"Exams," he muttered bitterly, rolling his shoulders a bit to reassure himself of the tessen against his back. Nothing was worse than exams as far as Tasuki was concerned. Not only did it require hard work, but waking up early and doing everything perfectly. His lax personality didn't enjoy the thought much, but he was a good fighter, and he was confident that he could scrape through at the very least. Even if it did mean waking up at seven.
The great circular skeleton of Balamb Garden stretched out before him, promising a number of enticing things. To the right, the cafeteria. To the left, the training center. He could use a bit of both. Coffee was much more promising, but the meek little voice inside his head that wasn't still sleep addled chided him for thinking of himself. With a great sigh that clearly spoke of defeat, he trudged off toward the training center. With his luck Tamahome would be standing in the corridor, ready to jump at him the moment he approached.
His luck held out.
"Where have you been?"
Tasuki glared daggers at the ebony haired boy. Taller than himself by a few inches, he was the love of every girl in the Garden. His violet eyes darkening with anger, he looked quite intimidating, but Tasuki had known him for far too long to think of him as a threat. His pride wouldn't allow it. And as much as he hated to admit it, Tamahome was as good of a friend has he had.
"Asleep."
Tamahome glared for all his worth. "Baka ne. Everyone else in the Garden is training for the exams and Tasuki-kun is in his dorm, fast asleep. It'll happen the day of the test, I bet. Then it'll happen next year, too."
"You're gonna be eating those words when I get a higher ranking than you, Tomahome."
The taller boy smiled smugly. "Yeah right. There's no way you'll do better than me. I could kick your butt."
"You'll see how wrong you are tomorrow, jerk!"
They exchanged heated glares for a moment before turning and stalking off toward the massive green double doors through which the training center lay. They passed a group of girls, who looked exhausted but proud, obviously ready for whatever tasks might lay ahead.
Tasuki felt none of the blind optimism. He had faith in his own abilities, but he didn't know what the exam consisted of. Over the years at the Garden he had gotten used to flying blind, but there was always a sense of nagging despair that came with waiting for takeoff. Tomorrow was the big day. Now, feeling the tension of it, he was beginning to worry.
"You ready," Tamahome asked with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Everyone thought he was so level-headed. Even in battle he seemed to have some sort of restraint. He had an eye for tactics that Tasuki wished fiercely that he had been blessed with. But he was not so lucky. All he had in his corner was a short temper and a knack for rushing into a fight without thinking.
"Better to face destiny head on than cower," he mumbled, drawing his tessen. It was a saying that had pulled him through more bad situations that he cared to think about. Those early years at the Garden had been hell. Now, in his last year, with two strong Guardian Forces and a little more control than when he had enrolled, he could handle anything that Balamb could dish out. At least, he hoped he could.