Without a means to distract herself, the extra bounce in Rinoa's steps vanished—back to focusing on schoolwork. Her grades were nothing to celebrate over, but were acceptable.
Acceptable enough for Fury, not Rinoa.
Every dinner smothered with silence thanks to Fury's presence left Seifer's words echoing in her ear. It was simple; sever the ties with the man parading as her father and run. Freedom came at a price, though. Can I give up all of this? Rinoa thought, scanning over the gourmet food prepared by the house chef and her designer clothes and contemporary interior design of the dining hall.
"How are your classes?" Fury asked after the first week of the new semester. Always acknowledging her studies and never the girl rotting from the inside out.
"Fine." Rinoa shrugged. "Junior year is prep time. Need to make sure we're in tip-top shape for our final year."
"Good."
Rinoa flicked her eyes up to him. He focused more on his prime rib than the young lady before him. With a gentle sigh, Rinoa sunk into her chair and quietly finished her meal.
Modern Galbadian History II was a continuation of the boring drivel she tortured herself with during summer. No matter the academic setting, the history texts regurgitated the same, common knowledge. The military academy displayed the topics more as propaganda than factual information; everyone else was the enemy and Galbadia was a saint.
Rinoa loathed the class before she stepped foot into it. She was further annoyed upon realizing her assigned seat was dead front and center. Students snickered at her unfortunate placement. Lovely, Rinoa thought as she dropped her bag like a dead weight and fell into her seat. No more staring out windows and thinking of silly boys and their ploys. Her view was now a dried-up old man better suited to a museum than a school and his pristine chalkboard.
The beginning of their second week into class, Mr. Valenport randomly selected topics for individual students. "These are due by the end of the semester. You have the option to either hand in a written paper or give an oral presentation." The class groaned. "Furthermore, I expect you to list ten different sources, regardless of your approach. Expand your boundaries! Don't limit yourself to what's only in your textbook."
A piece of paper landed on Rinoa's desk. She perked up and unfolded it. Her eyes widened. Oh, you have to be kidding me.
Class proceeded as normal. Rinoa flicked her eyes to the paper intermittently. Randomly picked, my ass, she thought with a furrowed brow. Others displayed frustration with their topics of choice, but surely none of them were as banal as hers. Students shuffled out upon the anticipated period bell and Rinoa marched straight to her teacher's desk.
"Mr. Valenport," she announced, "do you have a moment?"
He peered up from his glasses. "Ah, Ms. Caraway. What can I do for you?"
Her grip tightened around the paper despite her efforts. "Do you... really expect me to do a report on this?"
"It's a perfectly suitable topic, not to mention relevant to the times."
"With all due respect, sir, the Timber War has been drilled into our heads since pre-school."
"Students from previous semesters have reported on the Timber War with little problem. This is nothing new."
"And I'm sure they all turned in the same, mundane report."
Instead of meeting her exasperation with admonishment, he smiled. "There's far more to learn about life than in a classroom. I'm sure you'll find something new, Ms. Caraway. It might surprise you, perhaps even interest you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another class to teach."
New students filtered into the room. Sighing, Rinoa squeezed past them and left. She refused to admit that perhaps her teacher had a point. War didn't appeal to her, but she expected no less from a military prep academy.
"How are classes?"
Same question, different night. Rinoa wished to eat her dinner in silence, but Fury's stare pried her open.
"Fine," Rinoa offered.
She resumed eating, only to notice Fury's frozen eyes still upon her once she swallowed.
"Well," she continued, "I have a quiz in both Geometry and Computer Applications II by the end of the week. Classic Lit is mostly reading—" Because of course it is, why do you care? "—as is Foreign Relations. Modern Galbadian History II apparently requires a paper or presentation by the end of the semester and Physics—"
"What paper?"
Rinoa paused and cursed herself for ever bringing it up.
"We were assigned topics today. I got the Timber War." She shrugged. "Everyone knows about it."
Fury placed his fork down and leaned forward with folded hands. "Have you begun research yet?"
His abrupt curiosity startled Rinoa. "Um... it's not due until the end of the semester, so..." Those eyes of his nearly strangled her. "So obviously I'm not waiting until the last minute to read up on it and glean some new insight."
"Very good," Fury said with a nod. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with. The Timber War is an important victory for Galbadia. People don't understand what's in their best interest."
A nervous chuckle sputtered out of her. "Of course." So much for winging this several weeks before it's due.
The National Library of Deling City dated back centuries ago, echoing the aesthetic of an era long forgotten. The main reading room comprised of an impressive circular space beneath a gigantic, yet weightless dome. The sun poured in from the stained glass ceiling, emphasizing the articulated lights and shadows. Underneath the stone archways stood three stories of shelves encompassing every available wall, marked by polished oak and endless books. Nothing above a whisper traveled through the interior.
To her dismay and mild amusement, Rinoa spent more time in the library than she planned. She came to love it.
After classes, she escaped to the solitude of the library. No one bothered her there. As reluctant as she was to research the Timber War, the atmosphere eased her mind and made losing herself in a book more enticing than ever before.
Rinoa accumulated twelve books, twenty magazine articles, and far too many newspaper headlines than she cared to count by the weekend. One of the librarians was kind enough to place them all on hold for her. Each visit, she collected her materials, scouted for an empty table, and camped out with stacks of text looming over her.
Most of what she read revealed nothing new. Rinoa's eyes scanned over stories she heard growing up, a few expanding upon the details, but nothing more. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, stashing another book to her return pile and tried a newspaper. The headlines screamed sensationalist blather in an attempt to garner readers and potential subscribers. Journalists placed what was spewed in her textbooks up on pedestals. Rinoa groaned and shoved all the newspapers away.
The sprawl of magazines she acquired were thanks to most of them showing a hit for Timber War when she searched in the directory. Most mentioned the word in one line for an interview about a Galbadian war veteran, only to follow with a boring man's sap story. Several highlighted some details about Timber's forest preservation before the war, though nothing after. The stack of magazines dwindled. Rinoa grimaced and held her disinterested face up with a loose fist. All of the information was taken with a grain of salt—where was this new information her teacher expected her to unearth?
One, final magazine rested on the bottom. Rinoa reached for it and paused. A photo of a forest on fire bled to the edges of the cover with a bold sans-serif title: Timber Maniacs - vol. 1.
The content seduced her. Unyielding passion overflowed from every written word, a far cry from the monotonous academic scribbles she was used to. This? This was anger and strength and hope mixed into one. No censorship, no sugarcoating. Nothing but raw honesty from the people who lived it.
"Excuse me, miss," a librarian spoke next to her.
Rinoa perked up and blinked. The moon glistened through the dome above. No one else sat in the reading room.
"We're closing up, miss," she informed Rinoa.
"Oh!" She combed through every page of the magazine while time escaped her. Rinoa gathered her materials and rose to her feet. "Sorry about that! I'll return these for holding and be on my way. Thanks again!"
That night, sleep never entertained her. Images exploded in her mind of the atrocities the people of Timber screamed about. While she hadn't experienced the same horrors, the cry for freedom resonated close to Rinoa's heart. And those people fought back with no regard to their actions; the G-army could drag them to prison if it meant letting the world know their story.
Rinoa admired that unrelenting spirit.
She functioned on sheer adrenaline and coffee the following day. When the last bell chimed through the academy, Rinoa ran down the halls and streets to return to the library.
Her materials were there waiting for her when she approached the front desk. Riffling through them, Rinoa pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.
"Is something wrong, miss?" the librarian asked.
"I can't find the magazine I was reading the other night," Rinoa muttered.
"What was it? I can search the system to see if we have extras or if a neighboring library has stock."
Rinoa heaved a sigh of relief. "That would be perfect, actually. It was Timber Maniacs, volume—"
The older woman choked, perhaps on her saliva, and fluttered her eyes. "Excuse me?"
Rinoa hesitated. "Uh... Timber Maniacs? I was reading the first volume last night. It's for a school project," she rushed out at the end.
Those squinting eyes said enough.
"We don't carry that here, miss."
"But... are you sure? I thought I—"
"There must have been a fluke, miss; we do not carry any issues of Timber Maniacs."
Rinoa tumbled her thoughts about. "Okay... um, then do you possibly know where I could—"
"In case they didn't teach it to you in school," the woman pressed on while removing her glasses, as if to prove the seriousness of her words, "it's banned in most of Galbadia, if not all of it. I'd advise you to find something else to entertain yourself with that isn't anarchist propaganda."
Anarchist... what?!
What Rinoa read was freedom of speech from the bleeding hearts longing for change. What was wrong with pleading for that when the system was broken?
"Now," the librarian said with a fake smile, "is there anything else I can help you with, miss?"
Rinoa stared at the pile of books, newspapers, and magazine. Nothing but regurgitated nonsense sponsored by the Galbadian government.
"No, I'm all set." Rinoa gave the stack a gentle push back. "I won't be needing these. Best get them back on the shelves for someone else to find them."
Mirroring the woman's smile, Rinoa headed into the depths of the library. She ignored the towering bookshelves; in the back resided study rooms with computer access. The technology might have been outdated by a decade, but the network wasn't censored. Not yet. Timber prided in its technology spreading media to the masses—there had to be something pertaining to her interests.
After specifying her searches, the truth Rinoa yearned for unveiled before her. Rinoa gradually scrolled through rebellion zines and forums. She scooted her heels onto the edge of her seat and perched her chin upon her knees, eyes wide and lips ajar. As the blue glow of the monitor washed over her face, she long forgot of her assignment.