A/N: I do not own Final Fantasy 8. Also, there is a huge-ass hurricane about to ravage my home, so it'll be a while before I can update again. Sorry, kiddies!
IV. Quistis
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"I'm sorry, there's just no more room in Mr. Dincht's class; you'll have to try next semester. And I suggest you don't wait for the last minute to sign up. Martial Arts 101 has been filling up in one or two days prior to the required schedule dates."
"Yes, Instructor," the boy sighed, pushing his chair back and shuffling from the room, hanging his head.
Quistis mirrored his reaction, rubbing her temples instead of leaving her office. That was the third student she'd had to turn away from Zell's martial arts course. It was already past full, and as much as it disappointed her to turn pupils from learning, she simply wouldn't load Zell down with too many children to teach. He was, after all, only twenty years old, and still acted like a child, himself. Most of the time.
After the battle with Ultimecia, when the world discovered the heros, the saviors of the world, their popularity had skyrocketed. Everyone knew everything about everyone; their favorite colors, their dreams, their family, their mannerisms.
Their weapons.
The world learned that Zell, one of the three to face Ultimecia at her last, possessed no weapon save his own body (and his fighting gloves). And the world was astonished that a single person could cause as much damage as was reported to a being as invincible as a Sorceress without a weapon to rely on. Following those days, hordes upon droves of SeeD candidates had opted to specialize in hand-to-hand combat, rather than take up the more popular weapons of swords and guns. They all aspired to become the next 'Machine Dincht.'
Strange things concerning the six were sprouting up everywhere, such as wild rumors and even new forms of slang. A 'Dincht Knockout' had actually become a popular saying. It was used as a comparison in boxing, grades and attractive women. Of course, all the boys' names were being transformed into titles, mostly in reference to women, much to the amusement of the girls. A 'Kinneas Flirt, Leonhart Iceberg, Dincht Knockout...' Thankfully, Selphie, Rinoa and Quistis had been spared this, erm, honor.
Quistis set aside her papers, standing at her leisure and stretching with a glance at the clock hung upon her office wall; it was late, but a late night visit to a certain martial artist's room was due. Locking the door behind herself with a simple security code -her numerical birthday- Quistis made her way quietly down the SeeD dormitory hallways before stopping before one she had often viewed before. A quiet rap of her knuckles, a one, two, five minute wait, and Quistis was ready to admit defeat and try again in the morning when the door slid open, a groggy Zell leaning against the frame, blonde hair un-gelled and flopping around his eyes. Blue boxers and a loose gray T-shirt adorned his body, one hand idly scratching his tummy beneath his shirt and lifting the fabric to give Quistis a brief glance at tanned, muscular abs, his other hand attempting to hide a rather large yawn. Zell gave her a look with half-lidded eyes, their bright, baby blue clouded over with sleep, lips pouting in a way that only heavy unconsciousness could cause. "Quis."
She nodded her head towards him. "Zell."
His look was as deadpan as any of Squall's. "It's one AM. You are at my door at one AM." His expression changed to one more alert, and he snapped to attention, reaching out uncertainly to comfort her from the unknown. "Did something happen? Is everyone okay?"
"Yes, everyone's fine," she laughed softly, patting his shoulder in assurance, watching him relax. "Mind if I come in?"
"If you don't mind the mess," he warned her, reverting back to antisocial sleep-mode, stepping aside to allow her to pass before him.
Quistis picked her way past fallen books and strewn clothing to his bed, complete with rumpled sheets, settling herself down gingerly on the edge, slightly uncomfortable. She watched, detached, as Zell punched the command key to slide his door closed, then pulled his desk chair around and straddled it after turning on the lamp with a light touch, laying his arms across the back of his chair with his chin on his arms.
There was a moment of silence as Quistis attempted to gather her thoughts when Zell interrupted with a grumpy snore. "Quis, I'm tired. I have seventy-six rowdy teenagers to entertain at two-hour intervals tomorrow. I'm planning on winging the curriculum the best I can, which will be piss-poor unless I'm well rested. I'm not trying to kick you out, but what's on your mind?"
"Well, I'm glad you mentioned class...listen, I think you're taking on too many students."
The other blonde snorted, turning his head to the side and resting his cheek against his wrist. "I can handle it. If these kids wanna learn martial arts, then dammit, I'm teaching them. I'm not going to discourage anybody from taking my class, no matter how full it is, because I remember when people made fun of me for deciding on gloves. So I appreciate the concern, but I sincerely wish this could have waited till morning."
"I turned down the third student today for a request to attend your class."
Zell growled. "I thought I told you not to do that."
Quistis sighed, crossing her arms in irritation. "Listen, Zell, I know you think you can do this, take on so many pupils, but I'm not the only one noticing your complete lack of energy lately. Selphie asked me the other day if you were depressed about anything, and even Squall thought about giving you a few days leave to rest up." She stood, giving him her back and shaking her head. "I know you think you can take on the world, and maybe you can, but you're going to make yourself sick."
"Quistis, if all you came here was to bitch at me about my sleeping habits, then you picked the wrong time."
"No." Quistis reeled about, her eyes burning with latent fury. "I didn't come here to just to 'bitch' at you, Zell. We're concerned about you! Stop being so macho and listen to my advice for once in your life."
"Quis! Listen, these kids want to learn something important. Remember back when I was choosing my weapon? Remember how stupid I looked, searching that damn room for a quarter of an hour? These kids want to learn what I did! I'm not going to throw that away!"
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"All right, class; today we will be taking a visit to the artillery cache in the training center, and you will all chose your lifetime weapons. I hope you have thought long and hard, as I have instructed, and come to a clear decision. Follow me." A seventeen-year-old Quistis Trepe turned on her heel and lead her class from their stuffy second-floor room, down the hall to the elevator, and, in groups of threes, to the first floor.
As the multitude of teenagers marched towards the training center, which had been purged of monsters previously due to the special circumstances, Quistis glanced behind her and noticed that one boy who had always appeared so rowdy in class, Zell Dincht, was unusually quiet, his face downcast. Still only fifteen, he appeared almost as if he were nervous and afraid of something. 'Maybe he hasn't chosen his weapon yet,' Quistis thought to herself, and turned back to the path before her.
After trekking through a rough terrain with jungle-like humidity, the troop of Balamb Garden residents arrived at an adamantine door with a palm-activated pad and a retinal scan. Quistis removed her glove, pressing her right hand to the pad and peering over her glasses for the scan. Once the safety procedures were complete, there was a click, and a smooth female voice announced the agenda. "Welcome, Instructor Trepe. Today, your pupils will be free to leave this room with a single weapon of their choice; please, students, refrain from touching the instruments until directed to do so, for your safety."
The door slid open, and the blonde SeeD lead the children into the room, their eyes widening to saucers as they stared at the impressive array before them.
A countless display of weapons greeted them; rows of swords, of every kind from katanas to double-handed broadswords. Shelves upon shelves of guns; pistols, shotguns, automatics, sub-machines, all of them shining and bright. Several curls of whips and chains and even a few pairs of nunchakus hungs from the walls and were draped upon tabletops. There was everything in this seemingly hidden room.
Quistis turned on her heel before her pupils, and cleared her throat to gather their attention, something that still didn't seem to garner a complete audience. She pressed onward. "I will call you up in alphabetical order, and you will have a few moments to decide upon your choice. I will then grant you a few minutes to practice with your weapon of choice, and you may made your final decision to keep that particular choice, or try another. However, choose quickly, for we have many students to accommodate, and none of you are permitted to leave this room until everyone has been properly equipped. First, Almasy, Seifer."
A lumbering boy, one who stood over a head taller than Trepe shambled forward, smirking at his teacher before heading directly towards the gunblade display. Frowning thoughtfully, Seifer quickly decided, reaching for a black blade, automatic pistol mounted firmly beneath the edge, the handle replacing the hilt with an elegant curve. "This," he told her simply.
"Are you sure? Would you like-"
Seifer swept the blade swiftly over the heads of the students, some ducking and screaming as he fired at the adamantine door, not creating a dent but scattering a smatter of black scorch marks across the metal. He sneered, shouldering the gunblade with ease that should not have been so natural. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Quistis glowered at the blonde boy. "Mr. Almasy, please refrain from such unnecessary behavior while in class."
Seifer waved a hand at her, returning to his place in the shadows at the back of the room.
Quistis straightened her glasses, smoothing her SeeD skirt with her palms and clearing her throat once more. "All right. Next, Cadall, Ina."
A small girl stepped forward and chose a lightweight katana, and, after swinging the shining silver blade for a few moments, was satisfied with the weapon, returned to the group.
"I appreciate your self-control, Miss Cadall." Quistis shot a pointed glare towards Seifer, who promptly ignored it. "Dincht, Zell, please step forward."
The short -even shorter than herself- blonde boy shuffled forward, appearing troubled, an expression Quistis was not accustomed to seeing on his tattooed face (where on earth he had gotten such an insane symbol, she could not imagine). "Um...Instructor Trepe..."
Quistis blinked; it was not often that his voice did not take on an excited quality, almost as if he were bursting with energy that threatened to lash out. He wasn't even fidgeting as he usually would when expected to stand still for more than four seconds. "Yes, Mr. Dincht? Is there a problem?"
"Um...I think so. You see..." He clasped his hands behind his back, his cheeks flaring red with unorthodox timidness. "Th-the weapon...I chose last night...well, you don't seem to have it here..."
Quistis gave him a disbelieving stare, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "Are you sure, Zell? We have weapons of every make and style here. What was it you decided upon?"
If possible, his cheeks deepened their blush, and he lowered his eyes to his sneakers. "Um...it was...knuckles, Miss. Fighting gloves."
There was a loud guffaw, and all -save Zell- turned to see a snickering Seifer, his gunblade resting proudly beside him, leaning against the wall and managing to appear as arrogant as its owner. "Gloves? Really, Dincht, and here I thought you couldn't get any dumber."
"It's not dumb!" Zell hollered, hands fisted at his sides as he redirected his shame into anger and aimed it right at the bully. "I bet I could knock you down flat with a good pair of 'em!"
"Not with my gunblade. Not even without it."
"Fuck you and your gunblade!"
"Mr. Dincht! Language!" Quistis admonished, appalled.
"You're a coward, hiding behind your big fancy weapon. Just a sword wasn't good enough for you, you needed a gun too, to feel safe!" Zell snarled.
Seifer's tone was dangerous, and he reached for his newly acquired weapon. "Watch what you say, Chickenwuss, or I'll tear you a new hole to say it with."
"Try it!"
"Gentlemen!" Quistis shouted, and immediately there was silence; Instructor Trepe never raised her voice, so when she did, everyone listened. "You will cease this ridiculously childish banter immediately, or I'll have you both expelled!"
Seifer seethed and Zell shook with fury, but neither boys continued, so Quistis resumed her calm demeanor, and turned to Zell with a comforting gaze. "Zell, I'm sure there is at least one pair of gloves in this room somewhere. As I said, we have every weapon, even though fighting gloves are...extremely unpopular. I'm sure you'll find them if you look."
So Zell searched. And searched...and searched. After fifteen minutes of rattles, clatters, and 'oops, sorry's, Quistis was prepared to tell Zell to stop and have some specially shipped from Balamb when he crowed in delight, moving aside a pile of coiled chains to unearth a pair of fine black fighting gloves, metal plates bolted to the knuckles. Bubbling with joy, he slipped them onto his fingers, clenching his fists and relishing in the smell and squeaking sounds of quality leather.
"Mr. Dincht, would you like to test out your weapon?"
Zell glanced around the room. "Where? There a punching bag somewhere?"
"No; however, that wall to your left is a durable but soft foam, used when test-firing guns and aiming whips and such." What she said was true; there were bulls-eyes painted in red, faded and riddled with tell-tale pockmarks.
The soon-to-be martial artist strode over to the wall, and, after shaking down his shoulders, aimed a few punches at the wall.
At least, that's what everyone assumed happened. All that was seen was a blur of motion, and a brief gust of air with a sharp crack before Zell's hand was inside the wall, past the foam, embedded into the thick plaster beneath it. The tattooed blonde's eyes widened, and he gulped, shooting a glance over at Quistis, who had face-palmed, and was muttering something about 'a long year ahead.'
"I know you're worried about me, Quis," Zell told her softly, anger draining from his voice in favor of drowsiness, "but I'm a big boy, and I can take of myself. If I think I need rest, then I'll rest and just let the kids spar during class while I sleep or something. You don't need to be the big sister anymore, you know." He smiled at her.
Quistis whirled around, grasped Zell's face between her palms and pressed perfect coral-pink lips to sleep-dried ones. Either not registering his sound of surprise or not caring, she pushed forward until his back was pressed against the edge of his desk, and she was leaning over the chair, forelocks of blonde tickling the side of his face.
"Qus's," Zell's lips moved against her own, his words muffled. He grabbed her wrists, careful not to bruise her, and pushed her back slightly, panting, face flushed to the brightest of reds. "Quistis, what on earth are you doing?"
"I don't know," she whispered, hot breath washing over his face, her eyes half-lidded in embarrassment and pleasure. "But I'm glad I did." She pressed forward again, her breasts pressed against his chest, and wrenched one wrist from his grip, tangling her fingers into his mussed hair and kissing him again.
"Qus-Qus's-Qu-" Zell yanked his head backwards to escape, but unfortunately forgot about the cabinet he had hung above his desk the week before- and the sharp corners it possessed. "Ow!" he yelped, hands reaching up to gingerly feel the rising goose egg beneath his sun-bleached blonde locks. "Ow, ow, Hyne dammit! It fuckin' hurts!"
"Oh!" Quistis gasped, jumping backwards, then rushing towards him again, one hand delicately feeling for the bump while the other rested softly upon his chest, her face twisted in worry. "Are you all right? Do you feel sleepy, should we take you to Kadowaki?"
"No, no, it'll be okay," Zell muttered, wincing when her fingers brushed his wound. "Ouch...yeah, there." He sniffled, blinking hard.
"The corners are really sharp," he whimpered, cradling his injury with one hand, shooting a glare at the offending furniture. "I don't even know why I put it there." Tension broken, he glanced over at the blonde whip-wielder, and the smile on her face. "This changes things, doesn't it?"
Quistis noticed her hands on his pectorals, but did not move them. "I suppose it does."
Zell absentmindedly rubbed the bump, looking everywhere except for her face. "Why?"
"Why did I kiss you, or why do I like you?"
"Both, I guess," he admitted, his eyes finally locking onto her own.
"I kissed you because I felt like it...and I like you because you're you." She smiled softly, idly poking his chest with a finger, causing him to blush freakishly darker.
"No offense Quis...but I always thought that you'd go for some serious, studious guy...y'know, someone more like you." Zell smiled shyly, looking to the side. "Not that I'm objecting or anything."
"Well, opposites attract." Quistis sighed, eyes rolling skyward in thoughtfulness. "I can't remember when I first noticing you as something other than a friend. Maybe...maybe during the party after we beat Ultimecia. Yes, I think it was then." She laughed. "Irvine kept trying to get me to dance with him, and everyone had someone...Selphie and Irvine were closer than usual, and Rinoa and Squall simply detached themselves and made out on the balcony all evening...I just felt alone. And after that library girl -what was her name?"
"Alanie," Zell offered.
"Alanie, right. After she ran off, when you scared her by jumping up, you looked sort of alone, leaning against that pillar with your arms crossed. And I felt alone, so I went over to you and we talked the rest of the night, remember?"
Zell nodded, and stood, turning the chair around to sit in it properly, circling her waist with his arms and pulling her down onto his lap to sit. He had done this many other times with the other girls, but now he had an actual girlfriend sitting on his lap, and the very thought made him a bit nervous. "I remember. You gave me lots of good advice that night, too."
Quistis chuckled, tapping his nose with a gloved fingertip. "I'm good at that."
Zell yawned, and resting his head against her shoulder, just above her breasts, eyes batting sleepily. "Thanks a lot, Quistis. I guess...I thought I liked you all along too...I'm just not- well, not so good with this stuff, okay? So be patient with me." He nuzzled her shoulder.
"You're doing fine so far," she commented softly, resting her cheek atop his head, smoothing his hair with one hand, the other finding his and entwining her fingers within his, stroking the side of his palm affectionately with her thumb. She sighed again, happily this time. "I don't know what it is about younger men that I go for."
"Our charm, charisma and boyishly good looks," Zell murmured drowsily.
"...yeah."