Miss Balamb Garden

Chapter Two | Close Encounters

Raijin and Fujin weren't anywhere to be found when Seifer got up the next morning. He was a bit miffed about this. Their dorm doors were closed by the time he'd returned after replacing the ant nest back in the forest.

The heck did they go? he wondered as he gave their common area a quick once-over (the container of genie ants was still sitting on the table where he'd left it for Raijin) and then walked out. He hadn't woken up that late.

It was ten minutes before the first bell so the cafeteria was full of students and staff when Seifer arrived. A hive of activity, with everyone eating and chatting and clattering about. A quick look around confirmed Raijin and Fujin weren't in here either. He also noticed that the hero gang's table was occupied by a group of female cadets instead; clearly no one was around this morning.

Which suited him just fine. He didn't want to hear anyone else bring up the pageant again. There was probably the threat of violence on his face, judging by the frightened look a junior classman cast at him as he quickly scurried out of Seifer's way.

Seifer found himself a lone table behind some pot plants, slammed down his tray and stuffed a croissant into his mouth.

Eating alone didn't bother him so much anymore. When he'd first returned, he found he couldn't bring himself to even set foot in the cafeteria. Sure, here he was, ex-sorceress' knight, walking the halls of Balamb Garden, sleeping and training and learning together with all the other students. But eating with everyone else? That was an entirely different thing. A shared experience, one of camaraderie and relaxation and dropping your guard. You only ate with those you trusted, and many people did not trust him.

Hell, he didn't trust them not to slip some Geezard turd into his lunch or spike his juice with Malboro piss.

So Seifer mostly ate on his own. Taking food back to his dorm or finding a spot in the quad. Always with that scowl on his face. But he hadn't liked it. It just reminded him of what a screw up he was.

It wasn't until a few weeks in when he'd been sitting in the quad, looking out at the grassy fields of Balamb and contemplating how hard he'd have to throw the remains of his sad salad sandwich to take out the Bite Bug there, that someone approached from behind.

He'd looked round, menace fixed in place, and glared right up into Irvine Kinneas' face.

"This seat taken?" Irvine asked casually.

Seifer regarded him warily, "Yes." His scowl deepened when Irvine sat down anyway, flipping up the back of his beige coat.

"What are you doing?" he snarled.

For answer, Irvine just held out his hand; he was holding a box of assorted buns. Plump, sweet-smelling pastries, all shining with glaze atop. Bursting with sweet and savoury fillings on the inside. Seifer spied one with custard oozing out.

"Eating. Want one?"

He'd been so nonchalant, as if this was a non-event, as if it was common practice for him to walk around Garden offering bread to randoms.

And Seifer was hungry, and found that he didn't have much energy to muster up to hate the guy, so, scowling a tad less, he took a bun. (The custard one, of course. He wasn't polite enough to leave the best one for the pretty boy). And then they ate mostly in silence. Irvine made a comment here and there about Balamb Garden, about Seifer's classes and about GFs, but nothing of emotional substance like, "Hey, did you remember how we used to make mud pies together as you tried to off me with your gunblade?"

From then on Irvine would sometimes turn up to the quad, and again they would sit and eat. Then he was telling Seifer what time he and the others were usually at the cafeteria if he ever wanted to join them. That was a firm and fast nope from Seifer, but then Quistis surprised him early one morning when he was getting food before the breakfast rush by asking him to join her. She was on her own, and had been accidentally given two hot chocolates.

He was skeptical about this. The spare hot chocolate was made exactly the way he liked it, down to the double marshmallows.

Not that the bossy prissy instructor would remember. Right? None of those GF reliant suckers remembered anything.

But she was cordial and pleasant and not trying to burn a hole in his chest with her eyes, and once again Seifer was too tired to repel her gesture, so he sunk into a seat and drank the hot chocolate with her.

A few more 'chance' happenings like this, plus a few more casual prods from Irvine, and this eventually led to Seifer sitting with them all at meal times. Zell's eye even stopped twitching a few weeks into this new arrangement.

The hero crew. The liberi fatali. He was supposed he was one of them too.

Just the black sheep.

"…really won't do it?"

"Mm. It's Seifer. Hard to say."

Seifer came back to his surroundings with a start. Two familiar voices were speaking behind the pillar he was conveniently hidden behind, and he narrowed his eyes as he realised what they were talking about. Cowboy and Chicken-wuss.

"Why'd they pick him anyway?" came Zell's voice through mouthfuls of Hyne-knew-what.

"Selphie thought he made a good candidate," replied Irvine in his languid lilt. "He's tall. Got the charisma. Got the looks."

Damn straight.

"Tch. My ass."

Says the short wuss who's always the last to know when it rains. Seifer internally chuckled at his own little jab.

Irvine was speaking now, quieter than before so that Seifer had to concentrate to listen. "She didn't say it, but I think she chose him to… cushion his image a bit. Make him more approachable. We all know there's a fuzzy bone in him somewhere."

There was silence for a bit. Seifer heard Zell chew.

"Well, who else are they gonna choose if he doesn't do it?" he grunted a few moments later.

"I'm sure we'll find someone. You game?"

"No thanks." This followed by an exhale, then as though struck by a sudden thought: "I know, dude. Maybe he's self conscious."

"Seifer?" said Irvine doubtfully. "I dunno 'bout that."

"Or," pressed on Zell. "Maybe he just can't stand losing. Again."

"Maybe. Look, I think the orphanage angle will get to him eventually. Just gotta get Sefie to hammer that down a bit more…"

But Seifer didn't want to hear anymore. He'd clenched and unclenched his jaw so many times in the last minute that someone looking at him probably thought he had developed a tic. Self conscious? Losing?

And why were they all so hell bent on him being part of this asinine pageant, anyway?

Abruptly Seifer stood up and left the cafeteria to get on with his day, haphazardly tossing his tray back onto the counter and earning him a reproving look from the cafeteria lady.

It wasn't a bad morning. His schedule was clear until afternoon, so by the time he'd ran five kilometres outside, the beauty pageant was far from his mind and his senses were sharp and alert. Which was perfect for his sparring session with Squall.

The same couldn't be said for Commander Pubey, he noted with smug pleasure. Squall's actions were stiff and just a fraction too slow, as if he'd been sitting in a chair all morning staring at a screen. Still, he definitely got better and more difficult to defend against as the minutes ticked on. They met in the training centre, spending the next hour testing out new moves.

Always extra careful to avoid the face, of course.

At last they were done and they sat on either end of a log by the entrance of the training centre; sweating, panting, jackets removed, gunblades lying on the ground in front of them. Squall took measured sips from his water bottle, and upon seeing that Seifer didn't have one, held it out to him wordlessly.

The blonde stared at it for a fraction of a heartbeat before proceeding to take it and fountain the entire thing.

"…" Squall looked unimpressed.

"Thanks," grunted Seifer, wiping his mouth with the back of his mouth and thrusting the bottle back to him.

"…You keep it."

Seifer craned his head to look at the bin near the doors, some ten metres away from them. "Reckon I can get it in?"

"No."

"Twenty gil if I can."

"…Alright."

Squall watched with more interest than he'd usually let on as Seifer held the bottle over his shoulder with one hand, squinting his green eyes as he took aim. Then he lobbed it, and both pair of eyes watched the plastic bottle soar through the air -

"Hello!"

- before being caught in Rinoa's hand as she suddenly appeared in the entrance way. A rare grin lit Squall's face and Seifer groaned aloud.

"Did you lose this?" she said cheerfully, pelting the bottle back at him.

"That didn't count," he grumbled.

"Of course it did. You owe me twenty gil," said Squall placidly, reaching out to squeeze Rinoa's shoulder as she plopped herself between the two of them. "Is that water in there? Can I have some?"

"Yes, I brought it here thinking you might have forgotten yours!" she said brightly.

"I didn't forget. Seifer just drank it all."

Rinoa put her hands on her hips and turned to mock-glare at him, but Seifer merely held a hand in her face and said, "Nope. Don't need to hear your nagging."

"Hmph," she stuck her tongue out at him and then asked, "So how was your play date?"

"Play date?"

"Yeah, what you guys were doing."

"We were sparring," deadpanned Seifer. "We were fighting. We were not building castles in the sand pit and pouring tea for our dolls."

"I kinda think it's like a play date," Rinoa said meditatively. "You got your toys. You're doing something together. You're having fun."

"Don't think your knight was having too much fun getting his ass whooped by me," sniggered Seifer.

Squall scowled. "Your face was in the dirt. Twice."

"Yeah, but I got back up."

Rinoa looked from one to the other, a grin forming on her face. "Oh, you two are so cute. Caring so much about what the other person thinks. You've both come such a long way. It makes my heart happy."

"I don't care what he thinks," the boys said in unison; Seifer in a disgusted, sharp tone; Squall sullen and quiet.

She just raised her eyebrows at them with that infuriating knowing smile on her face. Squall ignored her and raised her bottle to his lips again and Seifer rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I'm hungry. Lunch time? Zell says they're doing chicken wing curry today. I reckon he's already lining up."

"Ugh. Figures."

"You coming, Seifer?"

"Nope. I have a meeting with old man Cid in twenty minutes."

"Aw, you should come anyway and have a bite. Everyone else is gonna be there. We wanna talk more about the pageant." The way Rinoa said it, with that damn know-it-all smile he'd once charming (and it probably still was, just that he was now pissed again), confirmed his worst fear that she knew that he'd been chosen as a contestant.

"Don't talk about that to me," he said gruffly.

"What's your problem?" she wrinkled her nose.

"What's my problem?" repeated Seifer incredulously, "Are you really asking me what's my problem that I've been told - not asked, but told - I'm going drag in front of everyone in Garden?"

"Well, it's not like they've only singled you out," said Rinoa impatiently. "You should be proud, Seifer. I'd be honoured."

"It's a beauty pageant. You're a girl. Of course you'd get your knickers in a twist about it. But I ain't doin' it."

Hands on her hips and shaking her head, Rinoa turned pointedly to Squall who'd been sitting there silently and said, "One less competitor to be up against, Squall!"

Seifer's eyes narrowed. "What?" He turned to look at his sparring partner.

Squall looked extremely uncomfortable. He was more tight-lipped than usual. In fact, the longer Seifer looked at him, the more he thought the guy might actually combust from how firmly his mouth was pressed together.

A strange idea occurred to Seifer, and he was momentarily winded.

"Wait. You - you're - you're in it too?" he said in a hushed voice.

Squall didn't say anything. His expression was very pained. Rinoa put her arm around him and beamed at Seifer in a charming way. "You're looking at one of Miss Balamb Garden's finest, Almasy!"

No. Fricking. Way.

"You," said Seifer flatly, looking Squall dead in the eye and pointing at him with the plastic bottle he was still holding. "You are going to be in this drag show."

Silence.

"Wear a dress."

No response.

"Prance around the stage."

Nothing.

"Put on a bra." The bottle was now just an inch from Squall's nose.

Squall made a discomfited noise at that, but at last he opened his mouth and managed to grunt, "No. But yeah. I mean. It's for charity. It's for Sis." He grabbed the bottle out of Seifer's hand and lobbed it gracefully, successfully landing it into the trash can.

"Huh," was all Seifer managed, still staring hard at him.

"What do you think about that, Seifer?" grinned Rinoa, eyes sparkling. "You gonna give our Squall a run for his money? Are you man enough to be a woman?"

Seifer just shook his head, swatting the air while she giggled. Squall continued to look like he'd just swallowed a Turtapod.

"Let him make up his own mind," the commander finally mumbled, standing and taking Rinoa's hand to tug her up too. "Let's go to lunch. You walking out, Seifer?" For Seifer stayed rooted to the log, frowning as he tried to process the concept of Squall Leonhart in a ballgown.

He grunted in a non-committed way, and in a sort of daze followed the pair out of the training centre.

The image of ballgown-Squall eventually faded during the twenty minute long meeting with Headmaster Cid. He had a short mission coming up in a month based in Timber. A standard assignment, but with one additional difference: he would be the team leader.

The gravity of this was not lost on him. Seifer knew he was one of the best SeeDs in Garden (if not the best, in his honest opinion) and had more than proven himself with his abilities and loyalty, but he also knew the enormous chance Cid had taken to reinstate him, let alone give him the position as the team leader, so Seifer was more attentive than usual in this meeting. Not that Headmaster Cid wasn't without his sharpness; he very much had a "you're-being-given-a-chance-so-don't-screw-it-up" manner about him.

"I think that about sums it all up for now," he finally concluded. "There will be further details at your mission debrief a week beforehand with your team."

"Yes, sir."

There was a moment's pause, then Cid asked in a much more relaxed manner, "How are you, Seifer?"

Still have a pulse, so I guess I'm good. "Alright."

Headmaster Cid appraised him for a few seconds and Seifer shuffled his feet awkwardly, wanting to leave but not knowing how to do so without being rude.

"What do you do for fun, Seifer?"

"What?" He was completely taken-aback by this question.

"What do you do for fun?" repeated Cid, hands tucked behind his back. "You know… like in your rest time."

Why is he asking this? "Cut things in half with my gunblade?"

"That doesn't count. That's part of your training and work. You all work very hard," said Cid in a slightly regretful voice. "You've earned yourselves a reprieve, I believe, and when you're not on missions I'd like to see you take it easy for a bit."

Seifer raised an eyebrow and said bluntly, "Kind of hard to take it easy. Fighting is all we've ever known."

"I know," said Cid quietly, and with a quaver Seifer realised the headmaster was in a reflective, sombre mood. Oh, damn. His eyes darted around for an escape. He didn't want to be around for this sappy business. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond.

"It weighs on me every day, Seifer. But," Cid continued, and to Seifer's enormous relief he appeared to snap back to this portly manner. "We've done everything we can now, and it is time to rest. So you should go and pick up something fun. I hear team sport is an excellent pastime, very similar to your physical training. Or perhaps bird watching or the new chess club that's formed at the library?"

Seifer restrained his face from showing his cringe.

"I do the wood work thing with the other guys," he muttered. There. That should make him happy. All your little kids playing together with no hard feelings, hee hee hardy har.

"Ah, yes. That's great," said Cid, seemingly pleased by this reply. He stood there looking at Seifer with a cordial expression for another prolonged moment. Seifer shifted his weight.

"…Can I leave now, sir?" he finally ventured.

"Oh, yes. Dismissed, Seifer."

Relieved, he stood to attention and saluted. He was turning to leave when the older man spoke again.

"Seifer?"

What now? Seifer paused and half-turned back.

Cid appeared both tired and content as he smiled, and Seifer suddenly thought of how much older this man he'd known for most of his life looked.

"We're glad you're back."

His jaw tightened, words caught in his throat.

"In case you forget," added Cid with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"…Thank you, sir."

Seifer opened the door and stepped out, eager to get away, but stopped short at the willowy figure standing outside the office. Edea smiled expectantly and held out a full paper bag towards him when he noticed her.

"Seifer," floated her soft, warm, dulcet tone. "I brought you lunch. I knew you had a meeting with Cid and didn't want you to miss out."

The sumptuous smell of spice and potatoes filled his nostrils, bringing to mind instantly an image of enjoying a warm meal around a table, and Zell shovelling down a monstrous amount of rice. Ugh.

At the same time, an odd, quivery feeling sprouted in the spot where he thought his heart might be. The idea that someone had thought of him, had been mindful of his schedule and his hunger and thought to pack some food for him, was rather disarming. Seifer found himself momentarily speechless again.

"I - " he cleared his throat. "Thank you, Matron."

Edea's smile glowed, and fortunately at that moment Cid bustled out and beamed upon seeing her.

"Ah, thank you dear," he said genially, taking his paper bag when she handed it to him. "I'll be back later to eat it. You should just eat right here, Seifer. Who else gets to boast such privileges, hey?"

The headmaster walked out, leaving them standing there, Seifer still holding onto the bag. He glanced at the high-backed armchairs in the waiting area and, deciding it couldn't hurt, sank down onto one and began pulling out the plastic boxes inside. Because damn if he wasn't hungry. A moment later he remembered Edea was still standing there. She seemed unsure if she should sit or not.

"There's a lot of fruit here," muttered Seifer, sliding a box of cut up apples and oranges onto the coffee table. "Have some with me?"

Pleased, Edea did just that, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes as Seifer ate with relish. The cafeteria always made a good curry, although the rice was a bit dry. And of course the ratio of rice to curry was wrong again, way too much sauce, not nearly enough rice, how come they never got this right…

"Has Selphie told you about the pageant?" Edea broke into his food musings after delicately finishing a slice of apple. Strangely enough Seifer felt more at ease in her presence than Cid's, despite everything that had happened. Maybe it was because there was nothing business-like in her manner. Matron was never expectant or demanding. She just was.

Gah. The pageant. Again. Is this the most exciting thing to happen in this forsaken place? Sad considering it's a military academy.

Seifer swallowed and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "The others mentioned it."

"What do you think about it?"

His insides wriggled uncomfortably. Matron's voice was light, casual, unobtrusive, and yet he felt could already feel the inconvenient prick of guilt in his gut.

"It sounds… different," was his non-committal response.

"That it is," agreed Edea with a soft chuckle. "That is Selphie for you, though. She always had the most original ideas and plans. You would all go along with it though."

In spite of himself, Seifer smiled wryly, suddenly remembering. "There was that magic show she wanted to hold and we all had to perform a trick - "

"But she wanted you to be blindfolded." Edea laughed again, "There was also that one time she wanted to find out which fruit rolled the quickest down the cliff. I wondered where all the apples and pears went."

"I remember we held a party to celebrate a frog's life because she thought funerals were too depressing."

"Frankie the frog," mused Edea. "I'd forgotten about him. You were all obsessed for three days."

"Yeah, then Chicken-wuss stepped on him and - " Seifer made a squelching noise.

Edea shook her head, amused, and said fondly, "There's a lot of nice memories, Seifer. I'm glad you still have them. You have more than the others do."

He didn't say anything to this and just took another bite of food, chewing with greater vim than necessary. She'd just reminded him that he recalled his childhood much more clearly than the rest did, and he was loath to admit it, but it had always been somewhat of a sore point for him.

"It's a good thing," continued Edea quietly, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "They'll remember soon. You're not alone."

Seifer was about to deny that he cared, but a certain something was in his throat again (was it a bone shard? damn thing) so he swallowed it back and nodded jerkily instead.

"It's precious, those memories. I'm happy to know more children will have them too with Ellone's new orphanage." Edea smiled warmly at him, and though for the longest time he'd found he couldn't look into Matron's face without feeling some sort of fear and revulsion, for once he felt none of that darkness. With that kindly smile, her warm brown eyes without the hideous yellow, the soft lines around her mouth and cheeks that had once been creepily pulled skin tight with the darkness of evil sorceress power, she was simply Matron of his childhood days. Loving, patient, gentle.

"Of course, it's up to you," she continued. "But Seifer, it would mean so much if you'd participate in the pageant. Please think about it."

Seifer groaned aloud, abandoning all pretence, knowing full well he sounded like a petulant child. "Why does it have to be me?"

Edea looked like she was holding back a smile. "Sick of the fame and limelight?" she chided.

"More like infamy and notoriety," he grumbled. "Limelight - isn't that more Pube's - " Edea gave him a reproving look, " - Squall's domain?"

"Well, he's not exempt either."

"So I've heard," he muttered.

"I have full confidence you would outshine him, Seifer," said Edea earnestly.

"Is that how you're trying to motivate me? Bring back the rivalry?"

Her mouth twitched. "Will it work?"

Seifer barked out a laugh, rusty from disuse. "I'll think about it." Then, in a more subdued voice, "Thank you for the food, Matron."

"Always, Seifer."

A/N: Thank you for reading :)