Chapter One
Aftermath
Seifer Almasy hissed in abject discomfort as Fujin put the Antidote-soaked white rag on his face.
"SORRY," she announced in her usual, forceful tone, her stone-faced expression betraying no such sympathy. Her one gray eye—the one not covered by a black patch—was fixed determinedly to her work, her lips pursed in concentration. The huge hulk behind her wrung his hands in worry.
"I still can't believe you went and got yourself marked like that, ya know?" Raijin announced for the fiftieth time. "Right in the face too. That's gotta be embarrassing, ya know? It'll probably leave a scar, ya know?"
Fujin's good eye narrowed with annoyance, and thus her hands—already on the firm and ungentle side—became just a little more unloving with her upset. Seifer hissed again, then turned to give his other friend a furious glare—or as furious as one could look with an Antidote-soaked rag in your face.
"Raij?" he called, and anyone else would have tensed with worry at the gravely anger in his tone. Raijin just turned to pin him with a more focused stare, eyebrows raised—the hoop piercing his right one glinting in the light of his and Seifer's dorm room.
"Yeah Seif?" he returned.
"Shut up."
Raijin's expectant face fell somewhat at the rebuke, but he sighed and complied with Seifer's mandate. For all of about two minutes. Then he started in again as Fujin began doing her best to mop up the dried blood from his face.
"Been hearin' rumors, ya know. They say that the next field exam for SeeD candidacy is going to start sometime this afternoon. Heard the Headmaster just accepted a mission out of the Galbadia region, ya know. My money's on Dollet. Maybe this time you can actually pass the test, ya know."
Seifer gave his buddy another hot glare, which Raijin did an admirable job of completely ignoring, rambling on.
"Those first two times were flukes, ya know. But third time's the charm as my granddad always used to say. Then you'll be a SeeD like us, ya know. Get to have your own room and everything, ya know."
Fujin finally finished with her cleaning, then held her hand out to him and her one eye closed.
"CURE!"
Seifer winced again as the pure magic adrenaline entered his blood stream. His forehead began tingling as the flesh sealed and knitted together, the area growing warm. He reached up to finger the area when the tingling stopped, and frowned as his fingers met a diagonal line of scar tissue that had not been there before. Raijin and Fujin stood back and gave him a once over. Fujin's expression was bland as always, while Raijin made a face and shook his head.
"Marked, ya know. Right between the eyes. Can't get more embarrassing than that, ya know?"
Fujin spun around and then delivered a sharp kick to his shins, which had Raijin hopping in place and letting out a loud yelp. "QUIET!" she demanded firmly. Seifer's expression was grim as he got to his feet and then grabbed his worn gray coat.
"Leonhart's got one just like it, Raij," he announced with a perverse satisfaction in his tone. "We're even. Now c'mon. I gotta get to homeroom on time or else I'll have to listen to Trepe's whiney bitching all morning."
Elsewhere in Balamb Garden, Squall Leonhart lay back on an examination bed, one arm behind his head. He barely stirred when the portly doctor, Lidia Kadowaki, entered the room. The middle-aged woman had her black hair pulled back into a haphazard bun, wearing a long blue skirt and a button-up shirt underneath her white lab coat. She came to his bedside in her usual no-nonsense manner, flashing a small light in his eyes without preamble, causing him to wince in discomfort. When he would have closed them, her thumb caught his eyelid and forced it wide, studying his pupil dilation apparently—whether he liked it or not.
"How are you feeling?" she questioned briskly as she did so.
"Ok," he replied, his voice as neutral as always, almost deadpan. Kadowaki's expression tightened with disapproval.
"Take it easy next time, you hear? Looks like your eyes are focusing." She let him go and straightened, tucking the light pen back in her pocket, then picked up his chart and began jotting down a few notes. "You should be fine." She stopped, then met his steady stare. "Say your name for me."
Squall barely contained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he dutifully replied, "Squall Leonhart." The doctor nodded, and wrote down a few more things, then sighed and set his chart aside.
"Why don't you take it easy in training? Next time you might not be so lucky."
Squall snorted, turning his stare back to the ceiling. "Tell that to Seifer."
Now the doctor clucked like an angry mother hen. "That Seifer . . . Won't listen to anyone. Why don't you ignore him?" Squall kept staring at the ceiling.
"Can't just run away," he murmured noncommittally. Kadowaki's snort was derisive this time.
"You wanna be cool, huh? Well don't get hurt in the process." She sighed again. "Let's see, your instructor is . . . Quistis!" she suddenly exclaimed, remembering. Kadowaki turned and began for the door. "I'll call her now. Just wait here a minute."
Squall remained unmoving as Kadowaki left the exam room and then headed for her desk just outside. He heard her pick up the phone and punch in a number. A moment later the doctor's voice could be heard speaking to Instructor Trepe.
"Quistis? Come get your student. Yes, yes . . . his injury's not serious. It'll probably leave a scar . . . Right, right. Now please come by."
Squall heaved a sigh, shifting a little in the bed, one leg drawn up with his foot planted while the other stretched out before him. It was a stupid rule, having to wait for his Instructor to come pick him up like some errant child. Probably the reason why Seifer had opted not to come to the infirmary, and instead slunk off into the dorms to see to his wound himself. Squall's frown deepened. He would've done the same had he had the capability. If there was one thing he hated most in this world it was having to depend on others for help. He had made a vow at a very young age to become self-sufficient in every way. A quick thinker and a strong warrior, he set out to perfect his abilities in every area of SeeD training so that one day he would rely on no one save himself.
Relying on others only got you hurt . . . .
Squall tensed as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a strange woman standing at the window adjoining the two examination rooms of the infirmary. She wore an ankle-length white skirt and a blue sleeveless polo shirt with a matching white collar, and a lime-green airy wrapper looped loosely through her arms. She was pretty enough he supposed, with dark brown hair cut in a bob style that framed her heart-shaped face and large, soft brown eyes. She seemed older than his own seventeen years—perhaps in her early twenties. She had crouched down slightly and stared directly at him, a strange, mysterious smile on her face. She said something, though he couldn't hear and wasn't proficient enough in reading lips to translate what it was.
And then she straightened and turned away just as the infirmary doors hissed open. Squall glanced forward to see Instructor Trepe enter, and when he turned back to the exam room the mystery woman was gone.
The tall, slim blonde Instructor stepped forward and stopped when she caught sight of him lounging inside. She was dressed prim and properly in her black SeeD uniform—every seam in place and pressed to perfection. Her lemon-blonde hair was pulled up in her usual style—the bangs allowed to hang loose past her shoulders and frame her face with the rest pulled up and clipped to the back of her head and out of her way. She put her hands on her hips, ice-blue eyes rolling heavenward behind her thin silver glasses before she sighed and then centered her gaze on him again. Her lips pulled into an exasperated smile, one he didn't return.
If anything, the fact that Quistis Trepe seemed to show a less-than-professional interest in him only annoyed the hell out of Squall. It was a complication he didn't need, and sure as hell didn't appreciate getting either teased the hell out of by guys like Seifer because of it or receiving death-threats from her psychotic cult; the Trepies as they called themselves. There were hundreds of the creeps. How she put up with that crap, he'd never know.
Quistis came into the exam room and leaned down over him, giving him a half-stern, half-playful glare. "I knew it'd be either you or Seifer!"
Squall masked his irritation behind his ever-present mask of blandness, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side in preparation of getting up. Quistis stepped back accordingly.
"Come on, let's go. Today's the field exam."
Squall gave her a sharp look as he stood. She had already turned away and started for the door. His frown deepened. Instructors weren't supposed to leak that kind of information. Sure, Trepe was only a year older than him, but she was the epitome of professional and in control despite her age. At least until it came to him. Squall sighed distastefully. He didn't want to be treated special or given favors.
He followed after her as she led the way out of the infirmary, waving half-heartedly at Dr. Kadowaki's good-bye. They walked down the purple hall for several moments in silence, then,
"Squall, is there something on your mind?" He glared ahead, not turning. Another one of Trepe's annoying habits—doing her damndest to try and get inside his head and figure him out. She couldn't just leave well enough alone.
He opened his mouth to reply, "not really," but was stunned when she spoke at the same time, saying the same exact thing that he did. Trepe stopped walking and started chuckling to herself. Squall was forced to do the same, pivoting on his heel and giving her an annoyed stare. "What's so funny?"
Quistis waved him down, but kept chuckling. "Funny? No, no, it's not that! I'm just happy! I feel like I'm beginning to understand my student a little, that's all."
Squall scowled, then spun back around. "I'm more complex than you think." He tensed when he felt the pressure of her hand suddenly on his shoulder.
"Oh really?" she called after a moment. "Then tell me." Something in his tense posture must have revealed his discomfort at her touch, for she withdrew it again after a slight hesitation. Then she continued with, "tell me more about yourself."
Squall started walking again and a moment later he heard the click of her heeled boots heralding the fact that she followed after him.
Finally he replied, "It's none of your—."
"Business!" she abruptly interrupted.
Squall just trudged ahead, doing his best to ignore her chortling laughter and the stares he drew because of it on his way to the elevator.
Inside the classroom Seifer lounged in his seat at the back of the room. No one dared incur his wrath by trying to sit with him at his terminal, therefore he was free to sling one arm insolently over the back of the head-rest. His hand tapped the back restlessly as he eyed the clock, expression annoyed. He had hot-footed it over here for nothing. Ten minutes after the bell and Trepe still wasn't here. Neither was Leonhart. No doubt the former was picking up the latter from the infirmary and escorting him to class. Seifer couldn't contain a smirk at the thought of Squall having to endure being led through the halls like a Junior Classman. The image did wonders for his souring mood.
Right at that moment the classroom door opened and in walked the object of his thoughts. He ignored the stares and whispers that lit up at his arrival, trudging back to the back of the class to the only other empty terminal—the one right across from Seifer's own. He shifted his gaze from the floor only once—to lock onto Seifer's own laughing one—before he turned his stare back down. Seifer sighed in satisfaction at the sight of the thin pink scar that now slashed diagonally across Squall's pretty-boy face, starting over his right eye and going across the bridge of his nose, stopping beneath his left. Seifer's own went the other direction, starting above his left eye and ending below his right.
Rumors were already flying around like crazy about their unsanctioned battle earlier that morning. By the end of the day it would be the stuff of legends.
Seifer's attention was shifted as Trepe—who had entered into the room behind her student—began speaking.
"Good morning, class. Let's start with today's schedule." She headed for her desk and sat down, adjusting her glasses. Most of the room was rapt, only two remained immune. Seifer rolled his eyes and leaned back into a more comfortable position at his desk, while Squall sat heavily in his seat and then proceeded to stare down at his terminal, head bowed. "There seem to have been some rumors flying around since yesterday. Yes, the field exam for SeeD candidates will begin later this afternoon." She was interrupted briefly by excited shifting and murmuring among the student body. One swift look from those icy orbs of hers had the room back under swift control, however. "Those not participating and those who failed last week's written test are to remain here in study hall. Field exam participants will have free time until the exam. Just be sure you're in top condition. Meet in the hall at 1600 hours. I'll announce the team assignments there. Any questions?"
There were none, so she nodded. She seemed about to continue, then her gaze suddenly snapped onto him. Even from across the room, Seifer felt the weight of her disapproving look as if it were a tangible thing on his shoulders. And nothing served to piss him off more effectively than one of Trepe's snotty glares.
"Oh, and Seifer!" she suddenly called, her tone turning to that brittle frost that she always used when addressing him. "Do not injure your partner while training. Be careful from now on."
Seifer felt his eyes narrow, his temper boiling. Like Squall was the only one with a fucking scar on his face this morning. He turned to give his rival a glare, his fist thumping ineffectually on the surface of his terminal. Squall continued to stare at his desk, not looking up. Seifer sneered. No doubt Trepe had coddled her precious student all the way out of the infirmary, cooing about his injury and promising retribution to the mean old evil Seifer for having done it. Who gave a shit that Squall had given just as well as he got.
Anyone with eyes in their head could see that the Instructor had a thing for Leonhart, Hyne strike him down if Seifer could ever understand why, though. Squall gave her no indication that her feelings were shared or—hell—even cared two shits about. If Seifer didn't know him any better—and he liked to think that out of everyone he perhaps had the greatest understanding of the enigmatic youth—he'd suspect that Leonhart was gay, for all the attention he gave the female populace. Only the fact that he didn't pay any attention to guys either refuted the rumor.
Yet still Trepe chased after him like a little bitch in heat, showing deference and favoritism to Squall in every regard. Squall could do no wrong in Trepe's eyes.
And Seifer could do no right. For someone who sometimes thrived off of attention, to be so completely ignored in favor of someone else really rubbed him the wrong way. One could speculate that that was why he made himself such an absolute menace in her class. If he couldn't get her attention by being good, then he sure as hell would get her attention by being the worst he could manage.
"Field exam participants, I will see you all later," Quistis suddenly announced, dismissing those that were free to go. Seifer got to his feet. "And Squall, I need to talk to you."
Perversely Seifer leaned down to Leonhart as he passed with a sneering grin, and murmured in a falsetto voice that only Squall could hear, mimicking Trepe, "take me Squall! Take me hard!"
The only hint to Squall's anger was an imperceptible stiffening of his shoulders and a tightening of his fists. Seifer just snickered, then straightened and strolled out of the room. Trepe's ever-disapproving stare followed him out and Seifer gave her a mocking salute just to piss her off before he exited the classroom entirely.
Seifer swept through the halls, most of the kids crowding the way being intelligent enough to get out of his path. If being 6'2" inches tall and every inch wrought in iron-toned muscle wasn't enough of a deterrent, his belligerent reputation and the fact that he was the head of the Disciplinary Committee was plenty to earn him a measure of respect from his fellow students.
Seifer made his way to the elevator, meeting up with Raijin and Fujin on the way, and the three of them headed for the cafeteria for a late breakfast—or early lunch, however one wanted to look at it.
Meanwhile Squall got to his feet and—after giving himself a moment to compose his anger at Seifer's taunt—walked forward to meet with his Instructor. Trepe had come out from behind the desk and was lending a polite ear to three of her Trepies. As he neared she excused herself and they moved away toward the door. Only Quistis seemed not to notice their death-glares boring holes into Squall's head.
"You haven't been to the Fire Cavern yet, have you?" He shook his head and she sighed. "You won't be able to take part in today's exam if you don't pass this prerequisite."
Squall crossed his arms, feeling his face pull into a scowl. I was gonna go this morning, but Seifer . . . .
Trepe's eyebrow quirked at his brooding expression. "Hm? Do you have a good excuse?" Squall uncrossed his arms and carefully wiped his face clean of all expression. He ignored her slight frown in return.
"Not really." She heaved a sigh, then straightened and became all business once again.
"Then let's get going." Something in his expression must have revealed his distaste at the thought of her accompanying him, though she misread it. "If you're not too confident yet," she murmured, "you can review your studies at the study panel. I'll be waiting for you at the front gate, some come down when you're ready."
Squall stalked from the classroom then, ignoring the Trepies on his way out. Great. Perfect. Just what he needed to make his day even more piss-poor. As if Hyne were having a big huge laugh at his expense, right as he neared the hall for the elevator he heard a sing-song voice crying, "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!!! Waaah!" just before the owner of that voice abruptly ran right into him full tilt. The impact threw him back a couple of steps, though luckily he managed to keep his footing. The girl who'd run into him wasn't so lucky, and flew back on the floor on her back.
Squall straightened again, saying nothing as the girl slowly pushed herself up from her prone position on the floor. She was on the short and tiny side, so it was no wonder she had been thrown back at their impact. She was dressed in a standard Balamb Garden student uniform, her chestnut hair cut in a bouncy flip. She held her head for a minute, and when she managed to regain her feet and turn to him it revealed her eyes to be large and of a clear green shade.
"There. Whew. Sorry about that, I was kinda in a hurry," she announced in a cheery rush, then hopped in place, as if to test herself. Then the girl suddenly centered her gaze on him again. "Oh yeah! Hey, did you just come from that class?" Squall nodded somewhat hesitantly. Her wide green eyes got even bigger in a look of almost comical dread. "Is . . . homeroom over?" He nodded again, and her whole face fell. "Woo . . . Oh, nooo! This place is soooo much bigger than my last Garden!" She pouted for a moment longer, then all of a sudden she brightened again and whirled on him, expression expectant and overly cheery. Squall couldn't help but feel slightly out of sorts. This girl seemed to be moving and talking at a hundred miles an hour, changing moods as swiftly as the winds changed direction. Only a few minutes in her company and already his head was starting to hurt. "Oh, hey, hey. I just transferred here. Do you think you could give me a quick tour of this Garden?"
Having utterly no desire or intention of doing so, Squall shook his head. "Don't have the time," he murmured blandly. She pouted again.
"Oh, bummer. That's too bad." Then she sighed and gave him a friendly wave. "Well, see ya!" Then she took off, skipping toward Trepe's homeroom class. Squall was left standing and staring after her for a moment, still somewhat flummoxed, before he shook himself free of it and moved on. He planned to stop in the cafeteria and get a quick bite to eat before he met Trepe down at the gate. He hadn't eaten anything yet today, and his stomach was starting to growl in abject protest.
The entire Disciplinary Committee was standing at the drink machine near the entrance when Squall strolled into the cafeteria a few minutes later, Seifer with his two best friends Fujin—an eighteen year old female with short-cropped platinum hair and only one eye—and Raijin—an enormous muscle-bound black teen with very short black hair and more muscle than brain power. Fujin and Raijin weren't so bad on their own. They were low-ranking SeeDs, having just graduated last year. Seifer would have graduated with them if he'd managed to pass the field exam. Yet Seifer would have to let go of his enormous ego long enough for that to happen.
He sighed. Headmaster Cid must have the world's most perverse sense of ironic humor, to have named someone like Seifer Almasy as the head of the Disciplinary Committee. Almasy was known to be one of the biggest hellions and trouble-makers Balamb Garden had ever seen. Then again, Squall supposed it would take a good trouble-maker to know one. And also maybe Cid had named Seifer as such in the hopes that giving him some leadership and responsibility would breed more of the same qualities. Perhaps there was some deep and scary logic behind the choice. Though really, Squall could care less at the end of the day.
"SEIFER," Fujin suddenly called, turning to him. "DRINK?"
Seifer didn't reply, merely settled with giving Squall a sour look, which annoyed him to no end. If anyone should be pissed right now, it was him. What had he ever done to incite Seifer's wrath? Nothing that he was aware of. Raijin's voice suddenly cut through the tension.
"Can I drink somethin'? I'd like some water, ya know." Fujin turned to him, her face even more bland than Squall's.
"IGNORE."
No one knew for sure why Fujin acted and spoke the way she did, in short one-word responses in such a monotone, emotionless voice. There were rumors that her parents had been high-up in a Deling City crime family, and that Fujin had witnessed their rather violent and grisly murder—an occasion that had also cost her her left eye. For whatever reason, Fujin had been in residence at Garden from the age of eleven and had acted the same for the past seven years.
Squall stepped forward toward the lunch lines and Raijin noticed him. He turned with a grin. "Yo, it's Squall!" He motioned toward the drink machine. "Oh yeah, Fujin's gonna treat, ya know? Want somethin'?"
"RAGE!" Squall took a cautious step backward as Fujin suddenly stomped over and then hauled back and delivered a stiff kick to Raijin's shins. The hulking teen grabbed at his wounded leg and hopped around on the other. Seifer remained silent throughout the entire exchange, his gaze elsewhere and thoughts as well, it seemed. Raijin finally came to a stop near Squall, then put his hand to the side of his mouth nearest a scowling Fujin and whispered in an overly loud voice.
"Squall, Fujin's kinda harsh at times, so you betta watch it too, ya know?" Fujin's scowl deepened.
"WHAT?"
Raijin straightened with a jerk, then waved his hands in front of him. "O-Oh! I-It's nothin'!" he lied rather badly. Fujin pinned her narrow-eyed stare on him for a moment longer, then decided it wasn't worth it apparently and turned away. Raijin visibly slumped with relief.
Just then all of their attention was shifted as a blonde teen about Squall's age suddenly ran in to the cafeteria full tilt. He rushed right up to the lunch line, then stopped and doubled over, gasping for air like a landed fish. Squall nearly rolled his eyes. Zell Dincht, he was in his grade—if not in any of his classes. Dincht was pretty well known around Garden, friendly enough—if a bit of a motor-mouth. He was dressed for the upcoming exam in a standard student uniform, his pale blonde hair spiking up ridiculously in front but with a wicked-looking black tribal-style tattoo framing his left eye and cheek. A pile of contradictions, that one. It was rumored that Dincht had more of a natural hand-to-hand fighting talent than anyone Balamb Garden had ever seen . . . but he was also reported to be one of the biggest whiners and cry-babies as well.
Go figure.
After a moment Dincht recovered enough to straighten a little and pin the slightly startled lunch lady with a pleading look.
"D-Do you have any . . (gasp) . . hot dogs left?"
The woman winced. "You're a bit late I'm afraid. We're all sold out!" Dincht slumped, fists hanging loosely.
"Damn!" he hissed. "Not again! It's hopeless if you don't get here early." He straightened and gave the apologetic woman a smile. "Alright, I'll try again next time."
With that the teen turned on his heel, stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his pants and then strolled back out again. On his way the cafeteria lady called after him,
"I'll try to order more, but there's no guarantee!"
All four of them had remained silent throughout this entire exchange, their expressions varying from bland interest to disbelief to out-in-out disgust. After a moment Seifer's distasteful scowl melded into a predatory grin.
" . . . Speeding. Let's go arrest that student for violation of academy regulations." Then he took off after the unfortunate Dincht. Squall almost felt sorry for him. If there was one person in Garden whom Seifer took more sadistic delight in torturing the hell out of besides him, it'd be Dincht.
"AFFIRMATIVE," Fujin agreed, taking off after their leader.
"Roger, ya know!" Raijin was quick to second, doing the same.