In Who's Name? Chapter 9: Three Little Words, a final fantasy viii fanfic

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

I've tried to make Seifer interact with all the other SeeDs-who-saved-the-world. It won't always be funny, but it'll be fun. Besides, he can't just talk to Quistis or Rinoa all the time.

By the way, um, well, I'm not British-born Chinese. I'm Chinese, and I'm an England fan when it comes to football, but I'm not an English fan. Just an England fan who happens to be Chinese, does not come from China, and lives in a mysterious place somewhere in this world. Oddly enough, aside from my own country, I love both China and England, and have more than a passing fondness for Korea and Japan. So now, I'd like to apologise to Makoto Almasy and anyone else whom I accidentally misled, although I had no intention of misleading anybody, really.

I wish England had won. Never mind, by the next World Cup, it will be an even greater force to reckon with. This is the best England team I have seen for years! By the way, can someone tell me why the United Kingdom sends teams from Wales, England and Scotland to compete? Why not just one UK team?

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 9: Three Little Words

Squall Leonhart grumbled silently to himself. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to get himself into these situations. There he was, Commander of Balamb Garden, silent, stern and unyielding—and he'd been unable to say no to his girlfriend when she asked him to test Seifer Almasy's skill with the gunblade. He knew, of course, that Quistis was also behind that request, and that made it even harder to refuse. It was difficult to say no to Rinoa—she never asked for very much and he did want to please her as much as possible—but when Quistis came into the picture, he couldn't say no, and he had a very good reason for that.

He felt guilty.

"Talk to a wall."

Part of him had always known that he should not have said that. When Rinoa learned of it—she happened to have asked him about Quistis' past as his instructor—she had let him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him. Rinoa had grown very fond of Quistis in almost no time at all, much to Squall's surprise, and she took Quistis' part. He had found himself rather ashamed of his behaviour—somehow it had never occurred to him at that time that Quistis had been a very lonely person. His comment that night had been completely uncalled for. He didn't know how to apologise, and Quistis didn't seem to be bothered, but he fancied, sometimes, that she was a little distant towards him.

"Thanks for coming, Squall."

Quistis' voice broke into Squall's thoughts. She was standing a little distance away, clipboard in hand and a whistle around her neck. Her face was stern as she looked at the two opponents, and Squall suddenly felt like her student all over again. He took one look at Seifer and was instantly reminded that Seifer had jabbed an elbow in his eye some days before. It was difficult to see the blond man and not remember that this was Ultimecia's Knight, who had tortured him and nearly killed all of them.

"I'd like to remind you both that this is a test, not a duel to the death. Any attempts to turn it into the latter and I'll add another thirty-nine scars to the one you already have on your forehead. Two blasts on my whistle mean that I want the test to end. Is that understood? Good. Begin!"

She stepped back and watched them with mounting anxiety, her hand straying to her whip, in case it should be needed. Her memory was not so short that she had forgotten the incident that gave both Seifer and Squall mirror scars on their foreheads. That time, she had reached them too late, and had to content herself with delivering useless lectures and slapping them with detention.

Circle.

A white trenchcoat whirled softly.

A fur-trimmed jacket fluttered quietly.

A deft flick here.

A quick parry there.

Stroke.

Slash.

Slice.

Fall and roll.

Kick the opponent's feet out from under him.

Slash, slice, cut, thrust, parry, attack—

Quistis swallowed as her eyes blurred with sudden tears and a lump rose in her throat. Those moves…It was as if she was nearly eighteen again, and teaching two of Garden's best students, both her despair and her pride. Squall Leonhart, silent and emotionless, was brilliant in both theory and practical attack, and would have been a perfect joy to teach, if his instructors had been able to coax some emotion out of him. Seifer Almasy, arrogant yet possessed of an indisputable charm, was equally scintillating, and would have been a perfect joy to teach, if he hadn't tried his very best to antagonise all his instructors without exception. They were Garden's finest, and nobody could touch them when it came to fighting, because they had found the secret. Each fought with their gunblade, not as two separate entities, but as one, as partners, as two halves of a whole. That was the way to fight. Artistry, skill, talent, beauty, all moulded into one…

As she watched, Quistis realised something. Seifer was evidently weaker. His body remembered the old skills, but unlike Squall, he had not trained for a long time, and his lack of the necessary strength and stamina to withstand Squall's assault was beginning to tell on him. Fear closed around Quistis' heart and in response, words flew to her lips before she could retract them.

"Stop!" she cried. "Enough! I've seen enough!"

Two loud blasts of the whistle sounded, but neither Squall nor Seifer paid any attention. Both were too caught up in the battle, which was progressively heading towards the duel-to-the-death scenario that Quistis had warned them against, despite Seifer's weakened state. Now their blades were mere blurs against the air. Quistis' mood flared into sudden fury at their disobedience, and she blew deafening blasts on her whistle without stopping.

"Okay, okay, you can stop blowing on that thing now!" shouted Seifer.

The whistle dropped from Quistis' lips and she stood silently as her two former students, gunblades hoisted over their shoulders in nearly identical positions, strode towards her.

Still slightly shaken, Quistis saluted Squall. "Commander, sir, thank you for your time."

He returned the salute and then turned to Seifer. "No holding back next time," he said briefly.

Seifer nodded silently and Quistis watched, completely floored, as Squall walked away and Seifer looked on calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had never seen them part on such—such amicable terms before. Perhaps Seifer's condition had brought out the better part in Seifer and Squall…or else amnesia had fried the part of Seifer's brain that made him consistently attempt to irritate decent, law-abiding folk.

"Are you all right?" Seifer's voice was a little gruff, and he looked away when she glanced at him.

She looked down at her clipboard, hoping that she wasn't blushing. There were decidedly great disadvantages to having fair skin. "I'm all right," she answered softly. "How are you feeling?" She risked a quick glance at him and saw that he was still flushed from the fight.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "All right." The colour in his cheek deepened.

They stood there in a strained silence, each strangely unable to think of anything to say. Seifer, thought Quistis, feeling increasingly desperate, was standing too close to her. He was so near that she swore she could feel his body heat—almost as blazing as she had felt it yesterday when her hand had rested on his mouth—and coupled with the fact that her own skin was feeling flushed with sudden and unaccountable warmth, the temperature was getting almost unbearable. Her brain reminded her agitatedly that she had to move, immediately. But strangely enough, she could not bring herself to lift her head or to move from her frozen position. Now his head was bent close to hers, looking over her shoulder, and his breath warm against her cheek. She could feel him, but she could not hear him; her heart was pounding in her ears. He was so close that if she turned her face, he'd end up kissing her accidentally—

And then the doors to the gym creaked open.

"Hey, Quisty! Squall said you were here—oh—Seifer?"

Quistis made as if to move away, but Seifer's hand closed down on her shoulder and she remained in place. Selphie, who had just entered, cocked a curious eye at them. Hmm…they seemed to be standing awfully close to one another and Seifer's hand was actually resting on Quistis' shoulder! If she didn't know better, she'd say that Seifer Almasy had been on the verge of kissing Quistis Trepe. To top it all, they were both blushing!

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked archly.

Seifer looked at her and Selphie instantly fell victim to his half-smile. Oh Hyne, that guy's hot. How does Quisty stand it? She can't be red-blooded if she doesn't respond to that!

"Not at all." Seifer's face softened a little as he glanced briefly at Quistis. "The instructor was just running through her report on my duel with Puberty Boy—"

Three faces altered subtly, each trying to hide emotions arising from sudden revelations.

He likes her! Selphie realised. Hyne, I think he likes her! The way he looked at her—oh, wait 'til I tell the others!

Quistis, on the other hand, felt as if something had struck her. She backed away from Seifer, who let her go, and stared at him with wary eyes. He said nothing; as soon as the words 'Puberty Boy' had left his mouth, he knew that he had given himself away.

"You remember." Her voice was flat.

He watched her narrowly, trying to gauge how best to answer her. "Very little," he responded.

Selphie looked from Quistis to Seifer, puzzled. One minute they had looked like a couple of blushing lovers, and the next, they were circling each other like deadly enemies. O-o-o-o-o-okay—so maybe they weren't that hot on each other—yet!

"How much?"

"Being here at Garden. Puber—" a cough here—"I mean, Leonhart. Chicken wuss—er, Dincht—and his hot dogs." He paused and touched the scar at his forehead. "And this." Another pause. "And you, Instructor."

Selphie blinked, stars in her eyes. Wow. The way Seifer had said those last few words—"And you, Instructor"—he sounded so romantic, a world of meaning in those three little words—

"And Ultimecia?" Quistis' voice was still hard.

Selphie winced for Seifer. Ooooh. Quistis wasn't the Ice Queen. She was steel—immovable, steady, focused, inhuman...or else how could she have resisted Seifer? Selphie shook her head. She and Rinoa really had to teach Quistis how to handle guys, or else her friend would never get together with Seifer, not the way things were going.

"The evil sorceress I'm supposed to have helped?" Seifer gave a snort. "Look, all I remember is studying here. That's all. No Multimedia or whatever her name is, no going evil and waving Hyperion around, okay?"

Selphie giggled when she heard Seifer's name for Ultimecia. Then she gulped. Her giggle had drawn the attention of Seifer and Quistis, who were now glaring at her. She held up both hands. "Don't shoot the messenger! Besides," she added, "it isn't my fault you were both so busy gazing at each other that you forgot little old me." She grinned as furious blushes decorated Seifer and Quistis' faces. Aha. Score.

Quistis coughed uncomfortably. "Exactly what did you come here for, then?"

Selphie opened her eyes very wide. "Why, this is the gym! Free country, you know? Anyway, Zell sent me to ask you, Quisty, if you're going with him and Seifer to Matron's."

Quistis shook her head. "No, I have classes for the rest of the day. Are you or any of the others going along?"

Selphie thought for a moment. "I don't think so." She looked at Seifer. "You'd better hurry. Zell's waiting!" Then she wrinkled her nose. "I say, you had better take a shower first. You do smell, you know."

Seifer snorted. "I doubt Matron is the sort who'll care whether I smell or not."

Selphie cocked her head on one side. "True—but her nose will care, and she's still Matron, so likely as not she'll pop you into a bath herself if you don't shower immediately! Don't you agree, Quisty?"

Quistis, who was used to the smell—she wasn't an instructor for nothing, and she had gone through hundreds upon hundreds of smelly training sessions—conceded, "Well, Matron is rather firm about baths. I don't notice the smell myself, since I'm used to it, but I'm sure it isn't a pleasant one. There's a reason why perfumers don't make fragrances out of sweat and gunblade oil. Go shower."

Seifer looked at her, his face and eyes suddenly cold and arrogant. "Make me, Instructor," he drawled, his eyes gleaming suggestively.

Quistis' eyes darted cold blue fury as she looked at him, seeing the old, errant and arrogant SeeD candidate who had made her life a living hell, who had never accorded her the respect or cooperation her other students did, and who had openly sneered at her and defied her authority time and time again, just for the sake of frustrating her. She had had enough!

When Seifer Almasy opened his eyes, he found himself sitting bolt upright against the wall of a shower stall. Hanging on the rail was a large, fluffy white towel with BALAMB GARDEN scrawled in large, ponderous letters at its edge. There was also a pair of sweatpants as well as a large T-shirt, neither of them his. He wondered briefly where Quistis had obtained the clothes and took a long, deep breath, his face darkening. Fine. So that was the way Quistis Trepe wanted to play it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In case you guys didn't catch the Three Little Words of this chapter's title, they are—"And you, Instructor." ^_^