"I'll be here..."
"...Why?"
"I'll be 'waiting'...here."
"For what?"
"I'll be waiting for you... so... if you come here, you'll find me..."
"I promise."
Sparks flew as the two swords met, their blades scraping each other harshly. They parted. One weapon flew upward at its opponent, only to be blocked again by the blade of the other. They pushed away, with more white-hot sparks, as the blades sharpened after each blow.
The two fighters were battling early in the morning, on harsh, rocky terrain. The sky was still dark, except for brief flashes of lighting, off in the distance. But the opponents ignored their surroundings. They were only focused on one thing - each other.
The two young men stepped back, their eyes meeting for the first time since the duel began. Squall Leonhart and Seifer Almasy. Rivals to the end.
Seifer was eighteen years old. Standing at six feet and two inches tall, he was an intimidating opponent. He wore a long grey trench coat, and leather gloves, and he never let his short, bleached blonde hair grow out. He wanted it short, so it was easy for him to focus his blue eyes right on his opponent, watching their every move.
At seventeen, Squall was a year younger, and stood at a slightly shorter five feet and eight inches. His ability in battle matched Seifer's easily, no-one could deny that, though they differed greatly in many other ways. While Squall was constantly calm and collected, always lost in his own thoughts, Seifer was brash, misbehaving and had a short temper.
Squall focused his steel-blue eyes on Seifer's cold, knowing stare.
"Had enough?" Seifer's mocking voice broke the silence. While he was a gifted fighter, his abilities made him too sure of himself at times.
Squall was tired, but he was by no means going to let Seifer overpower him. He tugged on his fur-collared leather jacket, and brushed his dark brown hair away from his eyes.
"Let's just finish this. Now." Squall's voice came out, cold and impatient.
Seifer sighed, the kind of sigh as if dealing with a child. He cocked his head and dragged a gloved hand through his short, blond hair.
"Give it up, Squall," he sneered. "You're just too-"
His comment was cut short by Squall lunging towards him. The unusual weapon he possessed was gripped firmly in his leather glove. Squall raised the gun-handled sword quickly, ready to attack. Seifer responded immediately with a swift blow from his own gunblade, sending Squall's weapon hurdling into the air.
They both watched as Squall's sword flew higher, and higher. It went buzzing threw the air, spinning continuously, until they lost sight of it as it entered the clouds. Seifer then lowered his head, laughing.
"I'll let you have that one," he said cockily to Squall, as he rested his weight on the hilt of the sword.
Squall's eyes squinted, and his nostrils flared. Seifer knew that "letting him have that one", would infuriate Squall. To make matters worse, the dark rainclouds in the distance had relocated, right above them. If Seifer, stubbornly determined as he was, insisted on continuing the battle, it would be in the middle of a storm.
Squall squinted up into the dark sky, raindrops falling onto his fiery eyes. As much as he didn't want to lose to Seifer, he was without a weapon. In a real battle situation, that would have meant death. It all seemed hopeless.
But here was Seifer, allowing Squall to continue fighting. Allowing. Squall hated that. Seifer was now in control of the battle. He could finish him off right here. But Seifer was so sure of himself, so utterly confident, that he decided to let Squall keep fighting.
"I'll teach him a lesson..." Seifer thought, smirking to himself.
A small white feather floated down, brushing the center of Squall's face. He wrinkled his nose and blew it off, waiting for his sword to return to him. A split second later, his gunblade came flying down from the heavens, slicing through the air. It pierced the rock-hard ground effortlessly with a great 'thunk' and Squall immediately wrenched it out. He then proceeded to lunge at Seifer with full force.
And Seifer just stood there, pointing his sword at Squall, taunting him. He then brought it up and around, just in time to block Squall's advances. Seifer came forward, swinging wide. Fortunately, Squall was able to avoid being hit. But Seifer was taking a lot of 'cheap shots', and it took all of Squall's attention just to avoid getting hit as Seifer came at him again and again.
Their weapons met with equal force, and they pushed, sending each other flying in the opposite direction. Seifer gathered himself quickly. He rested his gunblade on his shoulder, and signaled for Squall to come at him. He was taunting him yet again, Squall knew. But in it, he saw an opportunity.
He swung his sword around, coming at Seifer fast. The clashing of metal rang throughout the battlefield. He struck again, and again, each time with more force. Seifer frowned with annoyance and slight surprise at Squall's sudden comeback.
Eventually, Seifer was able to attack back, almost knocking the gunblade from Squall's hand again with a powerful swing. But Squall was on a roll; he was hitting every move perfectly, and dodging Seifer's assaults. He raised up and began to attack ferociously.
But Seifer had other plans.
As Squall ran towards him, Seifer stretched out his arm, and a swirling glow of hot, orange energy emitted from his hand, directed right at Squall.
The fire magic struck Squall and hurled him to the ground. Squall knew immediately that he was temporarily blinded by Seifer's attack. His vision was fuzzy, he was disoriented, and he could hear the sleeves of his jacket hissing and crackling from the fire energy.
Squall fought to get his bearings before Seifer could win, but it was too late. His eyes suddenly widened in fear as he saw, and felt, the ice-cold blade of Seifer's weapon strike him across the forehead.
It cut deep, very deep, and red blood ran down Squall's nose, dripping onto the ground. He yelled, half with fury and half with pain, as he raised his gunblade, cutting the air fast towards Seifer. Squall sliced from the lower left side of Seifer's nose up to the upper right, leaving a deep cut, in the same place as Squall's, like a mirror image.
Seifer winced and dropped his gunblade with surprise. Blood trickled down his face, though the injury was just a scratch compared to what the trench-coated fighter had done to his opponent.
Squall slumped onto the hard surface, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He dropped his weapon, blood still gushing from his brow. A small white feather floated down and landed on his cold cheek as he took in a last breath, then fell unconscious.