Final Fantasy VIII and all associated concepts are the property of Square.
Chapter II: Secrets and Agendas
Wind whipped through the halo of blue, white, and gold metals that was suspended over Balamb Garden. The light of the stylized ring was fading as the sun rose.
It gusted around the arch that hung over the path to the main doors. At the top of the arch was an engraved motto: Excitate Vos e Somno, Liberi Fatali.
It blew into the window of Chanda's dormitory room and across the pages of a textbook lying open on her bed.
The type on the pages was all about energy. It spoke of para-magic, the forces it relied on, how to draw it and refine it and cast it. It spoke of Guardian Forces, how they should and should not be captured and treated and utilized.
Energy was central to Garden and SeeD, and they stockpiled knowledge of it. Nothing was simply a matter of mind or body over matter, students were taught; whether it was tapping into one's creativity to paint a picture, or focusing one's strength to crush an enemy, everything ultimately came down to control over energy. Find the weakness in your opponent's energy, and it doesn't matter how strong their body is: you have surpassed the limits of their strength.
When you held a Guardian Force inside yourself, they were taught, and let its power mingle with your own, then you could control lots of energy. And suddenly the limits of your strength were much harder to reach.
SeeDs hoarded information about energy. They knew about para-magic, and Guardian Forces, and Elements, and power flows, and crystals, and thaumaturgy…
…but they did not know everything.
They do not understand sorcery. They can resist it and monitor it and control it, but they have little idea where it comes from, how it works, and – worst of all – what it is truly capable of.
They do not understand Time Compression. They do not know what causes it, or what happens when it begins, and they have no idea at all what can happen afterwards.
Location: Balamb Garden
At some point in the past, somebody – probably Headmaster Cid – had installed bells in one of the higher rooms of the main building. As the rosy hue of twilight faded from the morning sky, they echoed over the grounds.
Instructor Kazuo Nanashi listened, balancing on the highest of a series of wooden poles placed upright in the ground of one of the courtyards. He looked like somebody passing out of middle age, and had a bit of an unusual appearance: he was almost abnormally skinny, his hair was sparse and completely white, and he was perpetually dressed in a loose saffron shirt and matching pants, which he claimed was because they made him look like a monk.
A few students wandered through the court, but none gave him a passing glance. People were used to him.
As the bells faded, Kazuo sighed contentedly and adjusted his position, setting back on one leg with the other stretched out in front of him, his arms extended to the sides. Closing his eyes, he began to quiet his mind, seeking again the meditative state the bells had interrupted.
Something prodded him roughly in the rear, sending him toppling forward.
The assault had come at just the right moment to take him by surprise, and the failing of his arms as he tried to catch himself only served to swing him farther off balance. With a sharp yelp, he somersaulted forward to land face-up on the grass.
Blinking and trying to reorient himself, he became aware the sun was being blocked. He squinted upwards, recognizing the figure hovering over him after only a moment.
"Kyler, you clown."
"It's not my fault. You should pay more attention to what's around you." Kyler nudged him again with the butt of his spear before returning it to his PaCC, the grin never leaving his face.
"I am not supposed to be paying attention to what's around me. I am supposed to be meditating." He sighed. "The least you can do to make amends is to help a frail old man to his feet."
"As if."
"You will just leave me here to suffer, then?"
"Right." Kyler leaned against the pole Kazuo had just vacated.
Kazuo sighed, and in a surprisingly nimble movement swung his legs over his head, rolled, and came to his feet right beside Kyler.
"See?" said Kyler.
"Just because I could wipe the floor with you in a fight does not mean you cannot show some respect for my age," said Kazuo, his customary look of cheerfulness returning to his face.
"You think you could beat me, old man?"
The light-hearted bickering continued as the two strolled from one courtyard into another, the ebb and flow of students breaking around them. Eventually, as the mock-argument stuttered to a halt, they turned their attentions to other matters.
"It will not be too long before the next SeeD exam," said Kazuo.
Kyler looked at his friend with interest. "We've got a suitable contract?"
"No," said Kazuo cheerfully. "But Squall is apparently tired of having to wait. You know that a large group of students is choosing the apprenticeship option?
"Yes."
"And that one former apprentice was killed when he was sent into the field?"
"God, yes."
"The Commander is putting an end to it; he says he is not going to send Garden to fight an out-of-control Sorceress only to find that it is staffed by people who sweet-talked their way past their trainers but would have failed an actual military examination."
"Huh."
"So he is transferring a group of cadets to the excavation site."
Kyler perked up. "Really?"
"Have you heard about Cole Guzo's contract?"
"He was investigating a string of technology and weapons-related thefts from the West Continent."
"Apparently, he and his squad were able to recover some stolen blueprints from some thieves fleeing into Centra, not that far off from the site."
"Now that's interesting."
"You look thoughtful, friend. Are you thinking of recommending anyone for the transfer?"
Without speaking, Kyler gestured to the courtyard. Kazuo's questing eyes picked out the only two figures not passing through on the way to one place or another. Each one of them sat against one of the two trees in the yard, and each was engrossed in a book. They sat facing in opposite directions; the symmetry of the image was spoiled somewhat by the amount by which one figure dwarfed the other.
It was the larger person Kazuo recognized first, a hulking young man wearing green army pants and heavy boots. A white shirt was stretched over his well-built torso, and a tattered brown jacket had been thrown over that; a shadow of a beard was beginning to appear along his jaw, and his long, ruffled reddish hair was held put of his face by a dark bandana. His hands were hidden by black gloves, but the right sleeve of his jacket had been rolled up to the elbow, revealing metal where muscle should have been.
"That is Rayner Harvey, is it not? I saw him on the target range."
"Yup."
"You want to send him?"
"Both of them." Kyler nodded in the direction of the other reader. She was a dark-haired girl, dressed in a blue skirt and white blouse, a pair of reading glasses sitting loosely on her nose as her green eyes flickered rapidly over the words in her book. Kazuo's sharp gaze picked up the title The History of the Dollet Empire on the cover.
"Who is that? I do not recognize her."
"That's Leah Ammiel."
"Really?" Kazuo looked again, surprised. Leah was something of an enigma to most of the Garden Instructors; she was always very introverted, almost to the point of making herself invisible. These days awareness was growing about the memory loss GF use could cause and people were taking steps to preserve their memories, and yet she still managed to remain in the background of most people's recollections.
How many friends did she have at the Garden? The Headmaster was familiar with her, as was Kyler, but Kazuo did not know any others.
"I am surprised that I have never seen her before."
"Oh, she's been travelling. Though the Western Continent and the north coast of Centra."
"What, before she has made SeeD? How did she pay for it?"
"I paid her way."
That got Kazuo's attention, but he decided not to comment on it. If another Instructor was willing to stick his neck out that far for her, she must be an unusual student. "Will she be able to make SeeD?"
"She'll be another Leonhart."
And Commander Squall Leonhart is friends with the leaders of all of the world superpowers, directs the most powerful military force on the planet, is considered to be the pinnacle of both conventional and para-magical combat prowess, orchestrated the defeat of the most powerful sorceress who could ever possibly exist, and is just leaving his teens, Kazuo thought. You really think she is something special. Looking at her himself, Kazuo could not see what Kyler did; Leah was comparatively short and slim – especially contrasted against the six-foot muscular tank that Rayner was.
But I know better than most that power can come from unexpected places.
"I can see you have faith in her," he settled for saying.
"When you see her in action, you will too."
The two instructors started walking again, unnoticed by the two students. Kyler was bending their path towards the main building. He needed to prepare for his homeroom class.
"Will you be joining us for poker tonight, Kaz?"
Kazuo made a face. "Gambling is immoral and addicts one to the temporary pleasures of the flesh. It ensnares souls and ruins lives."
"That's a no?"
"You think I will pass up the chance to beat you to powder and make a fortune doing it? Nonsense."
"Welcome. Please take your seats."
Kyler's face remained in its 'Hi-I'm-a-friendly-instructor-let's-be-friends' look, not giving a hint that he was trying not to be amused by the almost palpable disappointment radiating from one of the young men entering the classroom…Jonah, that was his name. Kyler was the first instructor he had who arrived in class before anybody else, and he still hoped for the day when the teacher would be late and allow him to chat with his friends before class started.
As that group of students moved to their desks, Chanda walked in, radiating smugness. Kyler shared a smile with her as she went to her seat. He thought, That girl's confidence is as fickle as a fairy. She needs some experience she can really rely on, some way of proving to herself that she can really be a SeeD.
We'll see how well she does in Centra.
Students continued to file in. Rayner arrived shortly after Chandra, his book – one about ancient Centran engineering, Kyler could see now – tucked under his arm. He smiled when he saw Chanda was back, raised an eyebrow at the self-satisfied look he received. He then slid in beside a friend on the other side of the room.
Leah was not quite the last to come. She had changed into her cadet's uniform, and had apparently managed to make a trip to the library; she was carrying a new book, The Sorceress War, in place of the one she had been reading for the last little while.
Kyler's memory threw up an image of the lines that had been forming in the library the past few days. How she managed to get from the yard to the dormitories to the library to the classroom, on time and without apparently exerting herself, was beyond him.
Leah had a study panel to herself at the back of the classroom.
I know she has friends, because she sends letters to them, but I've never seen her spend a lot of time with anybody in this academy. And she's been here…how long has she been here?
Too long not to form any attachments, anyway. Somebody in Garden has to be able to figure her out.
An idea planted itself right in the centre of his mind, one that had occurred to him before but had never really been given proper consideration. Perhaps it was time to revisit it.
Later, he thought as the watch built into his PaCC went off.
"All right, let's begin," he said, silencing the class. "I'm not going to keep you long today. As soon as I'm finished, I want the whole class down to Target Range C. Instructor Alvis is going to review your basic sidearms with you." He held up a hand to quiet the groans of protest, and continued on with the day's schedule, explaining events that were and were not going to be happening at and around Garden in the near future.
As he spoke, he let his awareness drift outwards until he could sense his spear, leaning in defiance of Garden rules against the edge of the holoscreen behind him. He felt the creature inside it quiver in recognition as it noticed his attention through the loose junction connecting them.
Hiryuu, he said, tell me what's on my computer screen.
The Guardian told him. Moving his hand almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes from the class or interrupting his explanations, Kyler opened up an instructor-restricted program and accessed the connections leading from the classroom to the Garden's central computer network.
Three study panels had been turned on. Following Hiryuu's directions, Kyler accessed the one belonging to Jonah, who was not as attentive as he should have been.
Sure enough, the screen that came up was, according to his GF, the Garden Festival homepage. It was an attractive site, and it was turning into a big event, but it was hardly appropriate for class time. A few indiscernible key strokes and Kyler closed the connection.
Jonah flinched in surprise as the power to his study panel was cut, and looked around guiltily to see if anyone had noticed. Kyler was expecting this, and caught his gaze as it swept the room. He held it long enough for the cadet to realize what had happened and for the embarrassment to start suffusing his expression, before looking back out over the class.
The flow of his speech faltered only slightly as Hiryuu alerted him to the icon showing an unread e-mail. He hesitated, got the thread of his words back, and decided to open it.
His smile widened a bit at the corners as Hiryuu read it to him. It was from Headmaster Cid, in response to one Kyler had sent earlier.
"Before I dismiss you," he said, raising his voice to catch the attention of the few drifters, "I have an announcement. As you know, Garden has been unable in the past year to procure any contracts suitable for SeeD examinations." The class – who consisted almost solely of SeeD candidates who had passed either the written test or the GF prerequisite, or both – was suddenly all ears.
He continued, "As an alternative, the Commander instigated the apprenticeship program, based on that used by the White SeeDs. That is now being disbanded. Too many students were cheating the system, and the qualifications of all those who reached SeeD level through this program are now suspect. We instructors have been asked to announce that all those who attained SeeDship through an apprenticeship will be placed on reduced pay until they can be given some sort of practical examination under the supervision of an instructor, member of Garden faculty, or a SeeD who has been specially approved. In other words, until they have passed a regular exam.
"As for all of you, Garden administration is redoubling its search for suitable examination opportunities. To that end, a selection of Garden cadets will, upon recommendation by an instructor, be assigned to the research site currently being operated by Garden in the Centra Crater area."
He allowed time for the excited whispers this caused to die down. "This reassignment will be considered permanent until one attains SeeDship, after which you will, of course, be able to apply for a transfer as normal. Students selected for this will be alerted in the very near future. You will be given plenty of time to pack.
"That's all. Dismissed to Target Range C."
The class left, chattering excitedly.
When the door slid closed, Kyler sat and leaned back in his chair, his feet crossed on the desk in another flagrant breach of Garden decorum. He was thinking about the transfer.
I know what's going on at the so-called research site. It'll be good experience for the cadets I send; they'll be present when, as Cid so poetically put it, the first seeds of a new future are being sown…it's so hard to travel out there, personnel are going to be sparse, so the transfer students could have an unusual amount of responsibility laid on them…and after Centra's awoken them to what being a SeeD is like, it's off to Esthar, where they're still reeling from the Lunar Cry…
…Yes…I know who I'll send.
I may even put in for a transfer myself.
Location: …Hmm?
Akira Isamu was aware of several different things as he came to, but could not immediately figure out exactly what they were.
As consciousness reasserted itself, his first thought was: Something's wrong with the sky.
His second: I have a splitting headache.
His third: I'll never drink in a Deling City pub again.
His fourth: What in Hyne's name just happened?
In the hope it would resolve the issue, he voiced the last though aloud.
"Ah, you are awake! Trader is glad."
Akira's fifth thought was that he was lying down, a fact corroborated when a figure who was apparently standing up appeared over him. Its voice was slightly high-pitched and strangely childish, but Akira's sixth thought, as he stared up into the tiny, beady black eyes set in a face of smooth, shiny yellow skin, was that nature would never be so cruel as to do that to a child.
"You have been resting a long while. You should get up, and stretch your muscles." Freakishly long fingers supported his shoulders as he was helped into a sitting position on what felt like a bench. The change of position brought the rest of the figure's stunted body into view; he was dressed in a dark green robe.
Wait a minute. Short…yellow skin…green robe…big hands…Shumi! He's not a human, he's a Shumi!
As if the realization was visible in his eyes, the thin lips of the Shumi – Trader; they named themselves after their hobbies – split into a grin, revealing large, unnervingly while teeth. "You seem to be almost alert."
Akira, trying to think through a head full of fog, was not so sure. "What…what happened?"
"We have travelled together for a while now. We arrived here this morning, and I was asked to give you a drink."
"I don't remember travelling."
This earned him another grin. "And that was the purpose of the drink."
Akira looked around blearily. He was on a bench, in what looked like the beginnings of a park; new grass was growing around him, and he noticed people nearby planting trees. The wind carried with it the sounds of conversation and construction; not far off, short white buildings were being erected. The polished white metal shone brightly in the hot sunlight.
Hot sunlight…what was wrong with the sunlight? Akira stared upwards at the drifting clouds, and then around at the scenery again, trying to rid himself of his disorientation. The ground was rather barren for the plains of Galbadia. Was he close to the desert? How had he gotten there?
Then the wind blew again, and this time it carried with it a smell, a barely discernable and virtually indescribable reek of something alien and dangerous. Horrible memories came rushing back, and as Akira recognized reddish tint to the sunlight, he realized where he was.
The Trader had waited patiently as Akira had explored his environment, and now stepped back quickly, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner, as the man sprang to his feet, grabbing convulsively for a sword that was no longer attached to his belt. "Please, be calm!"
"Calm? What do you mean, calm! How the hell did you get me into Esthar!"
"Trader told you, we travelled," said the Trader, trying to get him to sit down, glancing nervously at the gardeners who had looked up inquisitively at Akira's shouting. "Sometimes by foot, sometimes by train. Please, do not draw attention to yourself."
"I never wanted to come to Esthar!" He grabbed the smaller figure by the shoulders and shook him, becoming aware even through his confusion and anger that the Shumi was both harder to move and less intimidated than he should have been. "Tell me how you did this and why, or I'll…"
"You will do nothing." The youthful, sing-song cadence was still in the Trader's voice, but there was an added touch of iron. "Firstly, because the drink is still in your blood and it dulls your strength. Secondly, because Trader is armed and you are not. Finally, because you are alone and Trader is with his brother."
"Your…brother?…" Akira became distantly aware that the sun was being blocked out.
His first impression as he turned was that an elephant had snuck up on him, but this creature was larger. Its feet were like enormous splayed fins, and its blue-green skin was as smooth and shiny as the Shumi's; ears like sails spread out from the sides of its head, and from between them two tiny black eyes scrutinized him carefully. From the front of its face sprouted a long, disproportionaly thin trunk. Before Akira could recover from his surprise, the appendage uncurled, wrapped around his waist and, as delicately as a man would handle a china doll, sat him back on the bench.
"Shoopuf has your sword in his saddlebags," said Trader conversationally. "He will return it to you when he is given permission."
Akira gathered the nerve to turn his eyes away from the mammoth creature. "Permission from whom?"
Trader caught and held his gaze. "You are not very frightened, Mr. Akira. You have been apparently kidnapped, disarmed, and dragged around the globe, and yet you do not panic. You ask questions. Trader is impressed."
"Good, I'm glad," said Akira sourly. "Can you start answering questions so I can stop asking them?"
Trader sat down on the bench beside him. "Let me see…Trader can tell you that he is, in fact, an actual trader. Trader mostly works here, in Esthar…" he gestured to the horizon, rapidly disappearing behind the rising buildings, "…but has gone to other places too, Galbadia and Balamb and Centra. Trader likes to think he has perfected his hobby, Mr. Isamu."
"How did I get here?"
"Trader found you in a pub in the Galbadian capital…Debing City?"
"Deling."
"Just so. You were being careful not to get drunk, but Trader slipped something into your beer which made that more difficult. When you were sufficiently inebriated he guided you out just beyond the city limits, where my brother relieved you of your sword. Seriously hungover and disarmed, you were a good deal more pliable in the morning than Trader imagines you usually like to be. It has been three days since then. We have traversed the Planet quickly."
Trying to follow the Trader's odd use of the third-person, Akira could hardly believe what was happening. Why was he being held against his will? And why, he thought, does it have to be here, of all places?
There were too many questions, too many to be answered quickly. He settled on one that was right in front of him. "What," he asked, waving at the construction, "is all this?"
"Trader cannot tell you. He is only half certain himself." He adjusted his position on the bench. "But he suspects that many of your questions will soon be answered."
"Alright." There was another question pressing at Akira's mind; it was perhaps not the most urgent, but it needed to be asked. "Why do you call the Shoopuf your brother?"
Trader actually looked a little embarrassed. "Ah, yes. He is not an actual brother, that is true."
"I should think not!"
"He is actually Trader's cousin. But we have journeyed together for so long that we have become like brothers." Trader's innocent gaze did not reveal any hint of falsehood or jest.
"Ah…ok, then." Akira helplessly looked around at his surroundings, trying to find anything that would return a sense of familiarity to his situation. It was as he did this that he caught sight of the two figures approaching.
Trader, perhaps seeing his expression, turned to look. "Ah…Minister Zabac, and Mr. Loire," he said, giving them a wave. "Now, Trader thinks, you will find out the purpose of your visit here."
Akira heard Trader's words only distantly as he took stock of the closing men. One he had never seen before, and he assumed this was Minister Zabac: a great, hulking, seven-foot figure, dressed in the white robes of the Estharian upper class. A short blonde beard did a poor job of concealing two wicked scars, one down the left side of his face, the other over his throat.
It was the other man, however, who held Akira's attention. Unlike his friend, he was not dressed in the ceremonial business robe; he wore instead light brown pants and a soft pastel-blue shirt. Long, dark hair hung over his shoulders. Akira had only seen him once before, but recognized him instantly.
President Laguna Loire. I'm being detained by the Estharian government.
God help me, I'm really in trouble, aren't I?
"Ah, I'm glad you're awake," Laguna said as he reached them, patting the frozen Akira on the shoulder before turning to the Trader. "I was worried you gave him an overdose, he was out so long."
"Nonsense, Commander. No one mixes drinks like Trader," the Shumi said.
"I should have had more confidence." Laguna turned to the man on the bench. "And Mr. Akira Isamu. Welcome back to Esthar. I understand you haven't been here in…what, nearly three years?"
Swallowing, Akira was able to find his voice. "Y-yes sir. Not since the Lunar Cry, sir."
"Fascinating." The President caught and held his eyes for a moment, sizing him up. Up close, he looked as affable as he did on the news networks, but now there was a glint of calculation in his eyes that Akira did not much care for.
He's planning something for me.
"Anyway," said Laguna, turning back to the Shumi, "If you don't mind, Trader, there was a bit of a construction accident over in the west block earlier. One of the underground facilities collapsed."
"Oh, my! Was anyone hurt?"
"No, there was no-one in it at the time. I was wondering if you and your amazing partner," he smiled at the Shoopuf, "wouldn't mind going and helping with the clean up."
"We would be happy to, sir."
"Thanks. I'll come and track you down when it's time for Mr. Isamu to leave, so you can return his sword to him."
That sounds promising.
With a polite goodbye, the Trader and Shoopuf set off. A long rope ladder hung from the Shoopuf's saddle; Trader grabbed on to it as it swung past, and was climbing up it even as the Shoopuf began trekking towards whatever was on the other side of this mysterious compound. As they left, Akira saw the long, thick tail protruding from the elephantine monster's hindquarters, and the sail-like fin that adorned it.
Next, Laguna had a word with Ward Zabac, whispering something urgent to him. Stewing in his terror, Akira was just able to make out the words, "Tell… faster… how they got an Ellone…"
And then, faster than Akira would have liked, Ward was dismissed and he was left alone with the leader of the largest and most powerful country on the Planet.
"Let's go for a walk," the President said happily. Inside, Akira curled up and whimpered.
It was not as bad as he expected. The President chatted absent-mindedly, but used words like weather or repair effort or big plans. Desertion and capital punishment were not terms mentioned, but a tiny part of Akira's mind, the part that had only allowed him to return to Esthar once in the last eighteen years, felt certain they were lurking just beneath the surface.
In spite of his worst fears, though, he was surprised to find himself relaxing. In the past, he had only seen the President once, on a broadcast throughout Esthar City in the minutes following the Lunar Cry. Then he had seemed liked a Phoenix rising above the ashes of its nest, something awe-inspiring and powerful and somewhat distant and strange; standing on a massive holoscreen, he had for a brief instant made thousands believe it was only a matter of time before order reasserted itself, and his heartfelt exhortations had brought a touch of sanity back into a world spiralling into madness.
Up close, he was a completely different person. He was clumsy, he stuttered, he tripped over his own feet, and he always smiled. He projected an atmosphere of almost childish naivety and optimism.
All in all, he was incredibly charismatic. Akira found himself relaxing after a short time.
Before they had been walking for ten minutes, Akira was already beginning to get an idea of the layout of the compound. His first impression was that it was designed for recreation – it was filled with small gardens and courtyards – but he could not imagine why anyone would want to build something in as remote a location as this. He was also beginning to realize that the walled compound was a good deal larger that he had originally thought.
Asked about its size, Laguna frowned. "I'm not sure exactly, but…I imagine you've been to Balamb?"
"Country or town?"
"Either."
"Both."
"The whole area, from one wall to the other, is about the size of Balamb town."
Akira whistled between his teeth. "That's pretty big. What's it for? Is it a military operation?"
"Can't remember." A look at the President's face told Akira that he was lying, that he was not bothering to conceal that fact, and that nothing Akira could do would get him any other answer.
He considered several possible responses, and decided on, "Oh, well."
"Right." Laguna turned them down a path towards a small courtyard in which grass was just starting to grow. "As long as we're talking about the military, I may as well remind you that there's a warrant on your head for arrest under the charge of desertion."
The subject was broached without warning, and Akira was caught with his guard down and completely unprepared.
"I remember," he managed.
"According to the law Sorceress Adel set down, desertion is equivalent to treason against the government of Esthar, and capital punishment is mandatory."
"I would have thought that it would have been repealed by now, sir."
"We haven't had a lot of trouble with deserters since the revolution. No one's bothered about it."
"Sir, I left eighteen years ago. Is it really worth the trouble?" It was not the best defence, but it was all he was able to think of while trying not to panic.
"That all depends." Laguna was smiling again, but Akira did not like it any more. "Why don't you tell me what happened."
What happened was complicated.
Akira Isamu had, at one point, been a Estharian patriot, born and raised in the biggest city in the most powerful country on the Planet. His father had been a member of the military and a staunch supporter of Adel. His mother was not so pleased with the country's magical dictator; as a child, he had very little understanding of the fights his parents got into, but was able to grasp that his mother's dissatisfaction played a part in starting them. He himself often fought with his little brother, who took after his mother much more than Akira.
In the Opal District within which his family's residence was located, it was a tradition for young men eligible for conscription to join the Angel Hands division. When he was seventeen, Akira's father died – not in action, as his mother always said would happen, but through illness – and Akira lied about his age and took that tradition upon himself.
In the beginning, it was all he had hoped it would be. His first few years were spent beating down the resistance in the far corners of the country, and protecting the scientists, engineers, and builders traveling to projects like the Lunatic Pandora and the Ouroboros – the massive electronic wall that would one day protect Esthar from its enemies.
He had not realized, in the beginning, how numerous those enemies were. He found out a year after he enlisted, when the Second Sorceress War began.
2SW lasted for three years; by the end of the first, he was already sick of it. Under Adel's orders, the Angel Hands were ordered into situations they could barely hope to survive, and commanded to commit atrocities no human should be a part of. However reluctantly, Akira helped to wipe dozens of villages off the map, breaking apart families and kidnapping little girls, all so Adel could find someone to pass her power on to.
According to the Centran calendar, which was still in use in Esthar, it was 4423 – that was 177 AfCen, by the Galbadian calendar – in the last year of the War, when the Angels were ordered into a battle they truly could not win, trying to conquer an enemy outpost on Galbadian soil. Akira was the only member of the division who survived. He decided then he was not going back.
Desperate, wounded and shell-shocked, Akira had wandered for a while until he found shelter in a small place called Suni Village. A young barmaid had helped him, given him shelter and food and kept him hidden. He never learned her name, but was forever grateful to her for helping him at a time when Estharians were hated and feared.
One night, sick with a fever, he had wandered out and found a cemetery behind the town. He dreamed of a beautiful voice calling him forward, into an old mausoleum…
The lock had long since been broken off, the grave's contents stolen. The stone lid of the coffin had been thrown aside and shattered, and whatever corpse had once laid there was gone. In its place lay a sword, apparently new and untarnished by its foul surroundings.
That sword…that sword was alive.
Akira had not meant to say so much, but once he started the whole thing had just come tumbling out. He had certainly never intended to talk about the sword, and had every expectation of being scoffed at. He was surprised to see that Laguna was still listening seriously.
"Alive in what way?"
Akira had to think carefully before responding. "It…it has a voice, I think. A sentience. Awareness. She taught me things."
"Like what? And who's she?"
"She is the sword. Seraphim, that's her name. And she taught me magic, mostly. Para-magic, I suppose is the technical term. Energy control." As he spoke, he lay his hand palm-up on his lap, and wiggled his fingers; tiny spheres of white light appeared and danced in the air above them.
Laguna noticed the display, but did not comment on it. "I've heard stories of Guardian Forces that become trapped inside physical objects. I've seen one, actually; one got into the power network of the Presidential Palace. It took three weeks for Odine to get it out."
"I agree that she's a GF, but I'm not sure she's trapped. That just doesn't feel right."
Laguna shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. What happened after you met her?"
"I travelled." Akira sat a bit straighter. "Seraphim gave me a bit of purpose back. She's a very calm spirit, you see, but she hates undead. She recognized me as a fighter, figured out that I was looking for a way to redeem myself, and offered me a way that coincided with her wants. I became a freelance undead-hunter."
"I know a bit about this part," said Laguna, settling back. "You travelled through most of the continents, although you avoided Esthar. You carved out quite a name for yourself, too."
"Huh."
"You did come back to Esthar once, though, didn't you?"
Akira didn't answer immediately. Memories lurking at the edge of consciousness were beginning to force their way back.
He had been trailing a man, a person he had clashed with over and over again, a man who loved to tap into old, dark forms of magic and spread the chaos he found around a bit before vanishing. Akira had decided to put and end to him once and for all, even if it meant following him into Esthar and risking capture by the authorities.
What he found, when he was finally able to sneak in, was a world turned on its head. He had known about Esthar's retreat from the War and withdrawal from world affairs, of course, but he could never have imagined the social overhaul that had happened in his absence.
His brother, when Akira found him, had joined the Adel Resistance Movement. The movement itself had become the New Etharian Reformist Party, and was in control of the newly democratic government. Its leader, Laguna Loire himself, was leading a pacifistic revolution that was slowly seeping into the darkest corners of Esthar's culture and transforming them. The whole country was, after the being throttled by Adel for so long, stretching, looking around and preparing for something new. The new Esthar was everything Akira had hoped it could be.
The peace was shattered when the Lunatic Pandora floated like a three-mile-high-half-that-wide ghost from the past over the city. Suddenly nothing was certain anymore.
Akira had turned from a brawl with looting Galbadian soldiers to see the dark, red-ringed spot of the Cry taking shape on the face of the moon. His mind had rejected the enormity of it; for just a moment he had believed it was the eye of Hyne looking down on him from heaven. Then he had seen it bulge outwards, and burst, sending a stream of energy and monsters towards the Planet…
Later, he learned that it had hit the Pandora itself, which had parked itself over Tear's Point at the other side of the continent. In the middle of the city, it did not seem that distant. Monsters had poured out of the sky, smashing into buildings and still somehow surviving, rising from the ashes to spread havoc and destruction. Like rain brings the smell of ozone, the monsters brought with them a strange, alien reek, a stink that could never have been produced by human machines or earthly animals; the thunderous roar of the Cry, the shrieks of the monsters and the extraterrestrial odour had been enough to drive some people out of their minds.
But the worst part for Akira was the redness that dyed the sky, so that it looked like the City's life blood was pouring down its buildings. Akira had could not remember the impact of the noise, had endured the smell, and had long since gotten over the hordes of murdering monsters, but the memory of that red sky, of the corruption of light, had shaken him to the core and remained with him in his dreams.
Distantly, he heard Laguna saying, "I heard you fought two Enoyles at the same time. That's pretty impressive."
Oh, God, the monsters. He remembered the Enoyles: he was trying to help a couple whose jerky and mechanical movements had made them look ill, only to see their faces split with inhuman laughter as they transformed into those gigantic flying beasts. He had beaten them, in the end; he exhausted his supply of curative magic and potions, and had nearly died anyway, but he beat them.
He and his brother had fled, soon after. A group of survivors in the outer city decided to run, and Akira and a group of guards had joined them. They had fought their way to the Horizon Bridge, and run over the massive construction for hours with monsters snapping at their heels.
Midway along the bridge between the East and West Continents was Fisherman's Horizon, an independent, pacifistic city of Estharian and Galbadian artisans and mechanics disillusioned by their countries' militaristic policies. The recently mobilized Balamb Garden was stationed there, and SeeD forces blocked off the bridge completely, trapping the monsters in Esthar. If the Garden had been somewhere else, the city would have been obliterated.
Akira related all this slowly to the President. Laguna listened carefully, and sat back to consider the story when it was finished. Akira took a moment to look around at the landscape, to see the tint of redness lingering in the air and smell the hint of Moon-vapour still carried on the breeze. Even three years later, Esthar had not completely recovered. Akira wondered if it ever would.
"Fascinating," said Laguna. "And then you got back to monster hunting?"
"Yes, sir. As you can imagine, there were plenty of new monsters to hunt."
"What ever happened to the man you trailed here?"
Akira shrugged. "I never picked up the trail again. He disappeared completely."
"Not completely."
Akira blinked, and took a photograph handed to him by the President.
The picture was blurred, but Akira recognized the muscular figure, the long, sandy hair.
"It's him!" he breathed.
Laguna nodded. "Listen carefully; this is how things are going to work. You have admitted to desertion, which amounts to treason; however, Esthar is no longer so strict about these things." He smiled. "Instead of being put to death, you will be put into service. I've had a word with the Commander of SeeD; from this moment until further notice you will be collaborating with them. Your objective is to put a stop to this man's actions.
"Whatever you do, bring him to an end. I'm afraid we don't care if he's alive or dead afterward."
Notes and Trivia:
-- I'm afraid this won't be the last time I allude to other FF titles. Hope it doesn't bother everybody too much.