"Irvine, circle around to the right and get ready for a snipe attack. Selphie, follow me. You're magical support."

Squall was already moving forward as he issued the orders. Irvine was automatically adjusting his gun, and Selphie was rearranging her GFs. It was a well-choreographed sequence, having come from long periods of working together in and after the Ultimecia Campaign so long ago. Poji was grinning like an idiot.

The figure had noticed them now, and was staring as if she was trying to decide whether or not they were coming for her. In a move as smooth as the moves of the SeeDs were practiced, she drew the giant sword that had been riding on her back. She didn't move from her spot by the bluffs, but the distance between the two sides seemed to close unnaturally quickly.

"Are you the murderer?" Squall asked flatly, taking a good look at his opponent. She was wearing a black-silk scarf around the lower half of her face, and the rest of her clothing was composed of a slightly heavier white fabric. It was clearly not a dress, and the top clearly was not covered with a shawl, but it still managed to convey the flowing sense of a cloak and robe. She looked... almost ethereal.

The girl met his eyes evenly, brown meeting blue. "That depends on what you mean by murder."

Squall's eyes narrowed. "You're wanted on seven counts of murder," he said. "You've killed--" what were those names...? "--Inspector Hakomi, Adjunct Galane, the brothers Naroko and Cimoko, the--"

"Yes, yes, I get the idea," the girl sighed, breath ruffling the scarf over her mouth. "I suppose that would be me. Let me guess--you're the ones Esthar hired to kill me this time?"

...'this time...?'

"You could say that."

"Right, then. But we'll play by my rules, or not at all. I can run very quickly."

Not if Irvine shoots you in the back. "I don't think you're in a position to be making demands."

The girl rolled her eyes. "And yet, you're the one who hasn't attacked me yet. I think you want to hear me out, whether you admit it or no."

Squall groaned inwardly. She had a point.

"Look, I don't ask very much, and for someone of your... evident esteem, it should be nothing. I just want a fair fight. One on one, all or nothing. Or don't you think you can handle that?"

Squall glared. how was he supposed to pass up a goad like that, especially if he was on camera? "Fine," he said. One on one... I'm still sure of my odds. I've been trained for this sort of thing.

"All right," the girl said, stalking back to a point near the bluff. Fingering the leaves on a small sapling nearby, she glanced up at Squall. "I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to tell me where you're from?"

"Balamb Garden," Squall said flatly, stepping into the circle defined by the shadow of the bluff and moving to his ready position. The girl raised both eyebrows in acknowledgement.

"In that case, you can call me 'Amica,'" she said. "Not my real name, you understand, just a formality."

Squall's eyes narrowed. He wanted to get this over with, not waste time in idle conversation. "Squall," he said flatly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. When she opened her eyes, they seemed quite a bit colder.

"Attack," she said.

Squall attacked.

The first few moments were a simple exercise--a few simple moves so that he could get a feel for his opponent's style. It seemed that she was doing the same thing--lunges and parries, still reserved for the moment.

Squall feinted in towards her side. She brought the masamune around to bear, and the battle began in earnest.

The next moments were a flurry of swipes and ducks--too fast for the eyes, countered mainly by intuition and luck on each of their parts. 'Amica' was talented with the masamune--she used a style unlike any that he'd ever seen. The masamune never seemed to cease moving--even when recovering from an extension or a parry the blade moved smoothly, without the abrupt jerks he was used to. She was a bit slower than he was, but in terms of finesse she was the obvious superior.

The tip of the blade ducked in close to his heart, and Squall parried it with the blunt end of his blade. It hummed around to strike at his leg, and he spun to one side to bring the blade in a vicious downward cut at her neck. She ducked into a ball, rolling forward and taking out one of his legs with a kick. He fell and rolled, getting to his feet just as she was--albeit, quite a bit away.

Amica was watching him, ready. Squall knew that it would be better not to rush at a person who stood their ground--they usually had some tactic up their sleeve, and could easily respond to any attack that the aggressor made.

...however....

Amica had said one-on-one. She hadn't bothered to specify that there were rule further than that.

Lowering his gunblade, he cast Aura on himself with a moment's concentration. A well-used Limit Break was often more dangerous than the strongest magic, and usually a good deal more difficult to block.

Amica looked confused. That was good.

Channelling the paramagic that the spell had given him, he charged. Amica brought her blade up to parry, but he swung before he was in any range to really hit her. The magical vacuum sucked her up into the sky, dragging Squall up as well.

Lionheart.

Impossibly fast, Squall began the sequence of attacks. After the initial rush any enemy was disconcerted--the power behind the magic-fueled Limit couldn't be blocked by the strongest Protect, and the confused enemy couldn't focus enough to dodge. On any normal human, it would cut them to ribbons.

There was a flicker of movement from his opponent, and Squall could have dropped the blade in shock.

She had parried.

His mind was sent reeling as he tried--unsuccessfully--to deliver the rest of the hits. No one could parry the Lionheart attack! It went beyond human ability! The blade was too fast--the force was too directed. It would take a strike that was balanced perfectly against the weight of the gunblade and the force of the blow. To even hope to pull off something like that, one would need to either have practiced regularly against someone who used the Lionheart ability, or have used it yourself.

Now, that was a sobering thought.

The magic was running out. He could feel himself falling and he could see her beginning to turn as the magic executed its final directives. He lost sight of her, hitting the ground lightly, and waited for his chance. She would land soon, and at that moment, she would be defenseless. A well-placed attack then, and--

She landed. upright. That wasn't fair.

With all the speed of a Hasted snake, Squall swung at her exposed side.

The sapling behind her split in two, the top half falling gently to the ground.

Squall blinked. For a moment his mind wrestled with the absurd possibility that she had turned into a tree, then--slowly--he looked up.

The sight he saw in the clouds turned his heart to heavy stone.

~


Rinoa woke up slowly, with the feeling that it was going to be one of those days where absolutely nothing happened in Timber. She walked to the window. It was bright out. She closed it.

Stumbling downstairs, she saw that the rest of the Forest Owls were asleep. Typical. Watts was sprawled across the couch, and Zone was sleeping in one of the larger chairs. She smiled. They had the right idea--it was far too pleasant a day to waste with activity.

She went back upstairs and crawled back into bed. Within a few minutes she was asleep again, certain that all was right with the world.

~


Squall jumped back, taking in a sharp breath as the masamune buried half of its length in the ground near where he had been standing a moment earlier. Amica yanked the blade out of the earth before he had time to register what had happened.

A Jump attack, he recognized with shock. I didn't know that anyone trained those anymore....

The miniscule pause was all that Amica needed to reclaim her weapon and strike again, and he barely had time to parry. The masamune's tip danced around the gunblade. The two weapons caught on each other, and a quick twist sent Squall's weapon spinning out of his grasp. Without thinking he dove after it--better to be moving, doing anything, then standing there without a weapon, defenseless.

The flat of the masamune caught him three times--once across the jaw, once in the ribs, and once in the shin. His dive was turned into a painful roll, and his arm twisted underneath him. He landed on his back, and took a moment to try and catch his breath.

The silhouette of his opponent came into sharp focus above him, and the tip or the masamune pointed directly at him. "All or nothing," Amica said. "It was a good match, but I still win."

Moving to his side, sword still at the ready, Amica crouched down. Squall spent a moment trying to gauge his chances before realizing that he didn't have any.

"Stay down if you want to live," Amica whispered softly. "Count slowly to a hundred before you stand."

Squall redirected his mental energies to staring at her. She gave him what he could only assume was a smile.

There was a flash of light, and she stood and brought the masamune down in a tight arc. The tip split the skin on the front of his neck evenly, drawing blood without inflicting a fatal wound. In the same motion, she turned and walked away.

...?

Squall swallowed. It was painful. He ran over the fight in his mind, closing his eyes. As far as he could tell, the entire sequence had been impossible.

Someone was running to his side, and he identified Selphie by the vigor with which she was shaking him. He blocked her out.

Something about the way she had attacked in the fight was nagging at the edge of his mind. He analyzed it.

"She's heartless, that one...."

All of her shots had been disarming shots. Even the Jump attack would have struck the gunblade instead of himself.

Oh, damn. What the hell does that mean...?


Irvine dropped behind the rock he was using for cover, taking a deep breath and realizing that he he was beginning to sweat. He hadn't just seen what he thought he had seen--he had not just seen Squall about to be executed....

There was a noise coming his way. Footsteps. He gripped his gun, trying to steel himself. He was a SeeD cadet, after all--he could take the pressure....

The girl walked past his position, and paused. Irvine stood, bringing the gun to bear at the side of her head. She was turned just enough to see him--

There was a long pause. No one and nothing moved.

The masamune seemed to move more quickly than lightning, cutting a shallow diagonal slice through his chest and slicing the rife in half at the middle. He fell backwards, and the girl walked off without a word.

This day was just not going his way.