Rosy rays of light peeked over the horizon as Balamb Garden skimmed the waves of the northern ocean. The air was frigid, and a layer of frost covered the outdoor training grounds. Unfortunately for his pupils, Squall Leonhart NEVER canceled his training sessions, which was why five students stood shivering in the morning light. Facing them was Squall, who held his gunblade loosely at his side.
"All right," he began, "I want each of you to perform the routine I gave you." Squall looked at a lanky 17-year-old boy, and addressed him: "Marcus, you go first."
Marcus stepped forward, swaggering slightly. His gunblade had a golden blade, but was otherwise identical to a revolver model. He brushed his long brown bangs away from his blue eyes, and planted his feet, gunblade held out in the ready position. With a burst of speed, Marcus began his routine. Slashing at an imaginary enemy, he awed the other students with his speed. However, Shera's dark gray eyes showed no sign of admiration: she was too busy cataloguing his mistakes. And so, it seemed, was Squall.
"Although you followed the routine, your moves were too flashy," Squall told Marcus when he had finished.
"What!" Marcus exclaimed. He started to say more, but Squall silenced him with a stare.
"There were several points during the routine in which you needlessly left yourself open to attack,' the instructor continued, "and your attacks were quite sloppy. This may be just a training session, but you'll eventually be on a battlefield. Out there, sloppy doesn't cut it."
Marcus looked quite depressed as he walked back to the group, and Shera couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He wasn't really a bad guy; he just had a bit of an ego.
Her attention turned to the next student to be called on, a twelve-year-old girl who seemed very fidgety. The girl tripped halfway through her routine, and Squall sighed. The rest of the students except for Shera giggled; she just rolled her eyes. The twelve-year-old got up, face crimson with embarrassment, and joined the other students.
"Shera, it's your turn," Squall said. As Shera stepped forward, she tried to smile, but couldn't. Frozen grass crunched underfoot as she walked over in front of Squall. From her pocket she took a pair of black cut-off gloves. She slipped them on, tightened the wrist straps, and unsheathed her gunblade. It was unusual, in that the blade was thinner than that of most gunblades. Also, it had a slight S-curve on the sharp edge, and was narrower in the middle than at the base or the tip.
Light glinted off the black blade as Shera stopped in front of Squall, took a deep breath, and spoke.
"Shall I begin?"
"Go right ahead," was Squall's response.
Shera turned to face an empty area, visualizing an imaginary opponent. Her eyes narrowed, she lunged forward. The lunge turned into a spin, followed by a series of rapid strikes. As Shera continued to fight her imaginary foe, all other thoughts left her mind; her focus was solely on her routine. Finally she came to the finish; a sharp downwards strike, from upper-left to lower-right, and she was done.
A few strands of shoulder-length, fiery red hair hung down over Shera's face, which she brushed back behind one ear as she straightened and sheathed her gunblade.
Squall nodded. "Good." Shera walked back to the group, its members looking at her with collective amazement. All except for Marcus. Shera could not read the expression on his face, but when she reached a spot adjacent to him, he merely said, "Wow." Shera smiled. "Thanks." She turned around to watch the next student, a 16-year-old boy, perform his routine.
As she watched, Shera checked to make sure her necklace, a small, burnished blue metallic sphere on a fine chain, was still tucked safely under her shirt. That necklace was very special to her, because it had belonged to her mother, and was in fact the only thing Shera had left of her parents. She didn't know what she would do if something happened to it. These thoughts led her to think about what might have been, maybe…. Marcus, noticing Shera's wistful expression, asked, "Are you all right, Shera?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, I'm fine," she replied, mind no longer dwelling on the past. The last student then walked to the front as the fourth walked back to the group with an average score. She performed her routine, and also got an average score.
"That is all for today. I'll give you new routines this evening in the indoor training center," Squall told his pupils. "Be there no later than six o'clock, and come prepared to fight."
The five students went off in their own directions; Shera walked over to the metal railing, wiping off her gloves, then taking them off and putting them in a pocket. When she reached the railing, she leaned on it and stared out at a tiny piece of land off on the horizon. The sun was at her back, and the temperature slowly began to rise as it lazily rose further up in the sky. I wonder how Mar's namaretsu session is going.
That was the first chapter of Hyne's SeeD. To anyone who reads this, I would greatly appreciate some info on how I can improve my writing. Expect to see the second chapter of Hyne's SeeD soon!