Simply Practice
Squall sat up in his bed with sweat trickling down his face in beads, huffing and puffing uncontrollably. It was all a dream...
He sat there, gasping for air like a fish out of water, the dream reverberating in his mind. Odd dreams I'm having…it must be all of this anxiety. Our main character was supposed to take an exam that day which would have determined whether he became a SeeD or not. SeeD is an organization developed for a simple purpose, to be a force to be reckoned with. They were sent all over the world to eliminate threats anywhere.
It takes great skill to become a SeeD – two tests must be taken and the student must get remarkably high grades on both. It is said that as little as four or five students get picked out every year from the fifty or sixty who take the tests.
Squall abruptly got out of his bed, accidentally brushing the covers on the floor as he did so. He went to his mini-fridge stashed in the corner of his dormitory room and pulled out a jar of orange juice. All of these whacky thoughts are all in my head; I'm not going to get shipped off to the middle of nowhere and have an icicle rammed through my chest…its just impossible. He pulled a plastic cup out from on top of a shelf that is a little bit higher than eye-level and poured himself a glass of O.J. He took a sip of it, and it tasted bitter. Some of the beads of sweat trickling down his face have mixed with his juice. Disgusting! He put down the glass of O.J., suddenly losing any feeling of thirstiness he had previously had.
Squall walked over to the desk balanced neatly atop three legs and flipped through the monthly issue of that new Timber Maniacs comic his roommate signed up for. How does he read this bull? He read the first page and flipped it aside, fishing for his clothing through squinted eyes. He lamely grabbed his shirt and a pair of pants, threw them on and he, like magic, came into full bloom and was awake.
* * *
As Squall came out of his dormitory standing 5'8", dressed in his all famous black shirt and pants with a simple undershirt to complement that, he took long strides walking towards his classroom. He passed by a couple of girls huddled in a corner talking about only god knows what. Ah, the trepies…they seem to be everywhere. Part of the most anti-social club I have ever seen. But who am I to be thinking that other people are anti-social…
The trepies are a club that is made up of young males and females who worship Instructor Quistis Trepe, one of the nicest, most considerate people employed in Balamb Garden – the school/mercenary training facility which Squall is attending. Sure, Quistis might be nice and all, but why would anyone want to make a club devoted to her…it practically earned the title of cult already.
Squall, now frightened by the trepies' god-awful stares piercing into the side of his head like lasers, sped up his pace and virtually hovered past the lot of them. But, to his misfortune, he bumped into someone worse…far worse. He was too busy pondering about the trepies to notice that the path he was trotting out on the marble floor of Balamb Garden led him straight into a white trench coat. A white trench coat that rested atop the shoulder of a person named Seifer – Squall's destined rival, some say. The rest of his gang, Raijin and Fujin, stayed behind Seifer awaiting the battle to come. Seifer, Raijin, and Fujin. I guess that makes up the whole disciplinary committee. The three were involved with Balamb Garden's disciplinary committee, handing out punishment to those who deserved it. The students of the Garden argued with headmaster Cid about how making Seifer part of the committee was not the most intelligent choice he could make, but he paid no attention – he trusted all of his students equally.
"Hey, watch where you're goin', Leonhart. We don't want anyone getting hurt here," said Seifer in his annoyingly low voice, "…Or do we?"
…Whatever… thought Squall as he walked away from Seifer.
"Yeah, that's right, walk away like the cowering pup you are. Walk away and never look back." Seifer imitated a dog whine, while his two jigsaw pieces of a posse, Raijin and Fujin, produced a faint chuckle in the background.
Raijin is a tall, dark male with black hair who holds a heavy club with both hands. He trains in martial arts and can easily knock a person much taller than Seifer off of his feet. He wears a vest that seems three sizes too small (perhaps on purpose, to show off his masculine body) and baggy black pants down to below his ankles. His feet rest in casual shoes that he bought in a junk-shop in Balamb a couple of years before, even though he brags about them being custom made.
Squall might have a few things on his mind right now, but he never lets Seifer talk to him like that. He turned to look the 6'2" tall foe in the eye.
"Yeah, that's right, little man, you look at me when I'm talking to you. I offer you a challenge – you and me, right now, in the training field." Seifer stretched his leather-gloved hand out, index finger forward, towards the hallway leading to the training field. "Just a bit of…practice. You know, to psych you up for the tests." From the second this statement landed on his ears, Squall was ready to accept it. He would whomp him once and for all, so that Seifer would leave him alone. He glanced at the clock hanging from the wall to make sure that he had enough time for a bit of practice before the trial. 11:27. Perfect, we have time for one duel before the trial at twelve.
Fujin, on the other hand, is a short, light-skinned (even pale) female that is shorter than her friends. She wears a blue over-shirt and black pants that resemble Raijin's, except her pants are tight. She has white hair and she wears an eye patch across her left eye. Some say it is an early war wound. She looks up to Seifer, both figuratively and literally.
"Let's go," said Squall.
At the sound of this, Seifer's posse, if it even deserves that name, drew their weapons, which consist of a makeshift club held by Raijin, and a pinwheel held by Fujin, and got ready to lunge in front of him to help him take Squall on. He stopped them with both of his outstretched hands, and whispered, "This is between me and him. Please stay out of it."
He then turned back to Squall, brushed his blond hair back with his gloved hand and said, in his mildly uncomforting tone, "Don't keep me waiting, shorty, I'll be there in five." And with this, he turned on the heel of his boot, cape billowing as he walked, leaving Squall the slightly uncomfortable task of dealing with the ever increasing crowd. He saw a few gawking faces that have appeared to see what spectacle these two rivals would put on for them this time. They've been fighting for as long as the crowd can remember, and they kind of hoped that they wouldn't let them down now.
Squall didn't like awkward situations, so he glanced around and turned to head in the opposite direction towards his dorm to get his gunblade for the face-off with Seifer which, now that it occurred to him, he forgot in his room….
* * *
The two swords met to produce a brilliant show of fireworks that filled up the stadium. Sparks flew ubiquitously in all directions, some smoldering Seifer and Squall's leather gloves, while others dumbly landed on the rocky floor of the arena. Squall had taken up Seifer's challenge, and he knew that he was going to make him think twice about challenging him again.
The two gunblades met again, producing another round of sparks that did minor damage to both fighters. Neither noticed and they both continued the fight as normal. In the background, rolling thunder proceeded towards the training field, threatening to dismiss any chance of finishing this duel in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Squall noticed the thunder in between two rough blows. Damn it! Just a little more time, and I'll teach this punk a le-
Squall's thoughts were interrupted by the gust of wind from his opponent's sword – a sword that fell centimeters short from his face. Wow, Seifer is playing for real today. Seifer swung at Squall again, trying to gain the upper hand in this brawl. Squall quickly dodged the oncoming projectile and sidestepped behind Seifer. He then swung his gunblade with all of his might, hoping to knock the gunblade from Seifer's hand. But Seifer is also not without skills. He sensed the oncoming blade and deflected it just in time to see an up-close view of the lion on Squall's gunblade. "Griever", Seifer thought, that's the idiot name that oaf gave his lion. It takes skill to think of something that stupid. Hell, he even has a chain with that pussy-cat on it!
Griever was Squall's role model. Squall believed that everyone can relate to some sort of animal, and in his case, it's a lion. He wished to be a lion, because it is graceful, intelligent, and accurate - All of the skills a person needs to be a SeeD; the king of the jungle.
Squall evaded another set of oncoming blows and charged at Seifer, hoping to, once-and-for-all, finally get the upper hand. But this time, something unexpected happened. Seifer hit Squall's gunblade with all of his might, and Squall's weapon flew out of his hands, landing a couple of meters from both of the duelists. Squall stood in dismay, his eyes darting from his fallen gunblade to his opponent and back, hoping to see Seifer's next move.
"Well…? We are just practicing, right? Go get your weapon…," said Seifer in an unsettling tone. Squall is the type of person who likes to depend on himself. He earns his victories, and takes his punishment, both like a man. He knew that Seifer considered this battle more than practice, even if he didn't show it. He's just giving Squall a second chance because he wants to win "gracefully". He doesn't need anyone to spare him or hand him second chances, like the person in front of him was doing. Damn that fool! Squall despised Seifer even more then than before. But, there was nothing for him to do but walk that set of paces toward his weapon and continue the fight.
Squall began to walk toward his trusty gunblade and griever. He walked sideways so as not to miss anything cheap that his opponent had up his sleeve. Squall clenched and unclenched his fists with every step for he sensed his foes eyes rapidly yet carefully following him. Unbelievably, Seifer stood there in utter amusement fixing the glove on his right hand and waiting, mentally telling him to Bring it on!
Our skilled fighter finally reached his sword, and quickly grabbed for it. He took it from the ground without a moment's hesitation, and jumped toward his opponent, now really ticked off. Seifer, although only a few meters away from Squall, somehow found time to taunt him some more; he laid his gunblade and right hand on his shoulder, and stuck out his left, telling him to "bring it on" again, this time physically.
Seifer's taunt was interrupted by Squall's blade chopping at him several times, heavily burdening Seifer's gunblade as it was virtually suspended in mid-air by the impacts. Seifer's confident face now seemed broken down to the last bit, and he finally seemed worn out. I will win! I can't lose to this numbskull. He deserves to lose. In between Squall's blows, Seifer pushed him to the floor, making Squall seem clumsy and unwary as he stumbled. Seifer thought Lucky this idiot doesn't have a crowd…
Squall picked himself up, balancing himself on his gunblade in the process, but Seifer pushed him again, making him fall flat on his back, raising a cloud of dust from the rocky earth.
With Squall on his back, Seifer saw his opportunity. He stretched out his hand and a stream of fire shot out of his palm, through leather glove and all, headed directly towards Squall. Squall was hit…badly. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. The best he could accomplish was to use his gunblade as a crutch. That cheap bastard! He's using magic in a training session?! To Squall's astonishment, Seifer wasn't done yet. He lifted his hand, and gunblade, high over his head, and Squall sensed what he was going to do next.
"This, Squall, is for ever challenging me in the first place."
Seifer let the gunblade cut the air on the way towards Squall's face. Squall could only contemplate what to do, for he was completely immobilized and defenseless. The gunblade and his face connected, throwing Squall backward as the blade ran down the side of his nose causing a sharp stream of blood to leak onto the dry, rocky ground.
Squall screamed. Pain spread across his face and down his neck, with anger being its complement. He wanted to get Seifer back. He, with all of the strength he could muster up, lifted himself up, and let the gunblade rip the air on its way towards Seifer in a last and final attempt to win this duel. It had streaked across his foe's face, but Squall didn't see nor comprehend what he has just done – he was in too much pain.
Squall limped around a little, trying to yell for help. Unfortunately, he soon ran out of strength and abruptly fell onto his back. And Squall was launched back into dream-world as he lay on the floor, with drops of red leaking into his mouth and nose. He was back in his own personal "bliss"…