Chapter rewritten: 10/15/11

S o S t a r s t r u c k

Chapter Two

The Hero is Here

Wherever this place was, I could tell that I was no longer in Ivalice. Without being with those I trusted, I was lost.

Why was he even running? No one was chasing him, for the most part, and he wasn't in any immediate danger. Not yet, at least. But Balthier ran as if he were running from death itself. He didn't know where to run, just as long as he was far away from the chaos of this world. A thought struck his mind: what were l'Cie, and why were the soldiers hunting them down? And—what made them think he was a l'Cie?

The others were still screaming, but their cries were drowned out by the roars of air ships and bangs of gun shots. Balthier stopped running to catch his breath and looked over the ledge, his eyes widening at the massive, towering structure standing in the middle of the vast cavern.

It looked strangely hume—it appeared to have a face hidden by the grotesque, beastly mask. It also had a pair of wide arms, but the rest of the structure was shrouded by the many ships flying around its perimeter.

Balthier leaned a bit further, then—

Oh, bother.

—tumbled right off the edge and fell into darkness.

"That was some explosion…"

Balthier's eyes fluttered open at the muffled voice, but his vision was too far blurred for him to see a thing. He gave up and closed his eyes, resting and taking deep breaths to slow his racing heart. He felt a small hand brush his forehead, and he nearly jumped up and shoved it away if it weren't for the soothing voice telling him to lie still. The girl—her hands were too soft to belong to a man—patted his cheek as if to comfort him.

"All those poor people," she whispered, "no one deserves to be killed like that!"

"As bad as it is, there's not a whole lot we can do for them now," said the voice from before; a man, from the sound of it. "C'mon, we have to find Serah and get out of here."

Serah? Balthier's eyes shot open, and he could finally make out the three faces staring down at him. The girl regarded him with wide green eyes before covering her mouth to stifle a gasp.

"Could have sworn I was dead," Balthier groaned, rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand. No one said anything, even when he sat up and moved away from the girl's lap. "Who are you?" he demanded, glaring at the three. Again, they were silent. Couldn't they understand him?

The girl, blushing from embarrassment, bowed her head. "I'm Vanille," she answered cheerfully, a small, but excited smile on her face. She looked no older than Penelo, and the clothes she wore made her look as if she were from Bhujerba. But he knew that wasn't the case; Ivalice seemed so far away from this world.

"This is Hope," she continued, gesturing toward the silver haired boy with a sour, yet sad expression. "And that's Snow." She pointed toward the tall blond man wearing a white trench coat, but he was hardly paying attention as he paced.

Balthier frowned. Apparently the people of this world didn't have manners.

"What's your name, one who fell from the sky? Vanille asked, tilting her head slightly.

He waited, unsure if these people—whoever they were—could be trusted. "Balthier," he finally said, and took her hand, pressing a light kiss to her soft skin. Vanille's cheeks turned bright red and she giggled, pulling away and standing up. "Tell me, what is the… whole problem with your society?"

The blond, Snow, looked at him strangely. "Huh?"

"The soldiers," Balthier continued, "they took me captive and tossed me with the rest of the prisoners until…" Ah, now he understood. "Until you and your insurgence rescued us, I suppose. Anyway—the soldiers called me something… odd. A l'Cie, I believe. Mind telling me what a 'l'Cie' is?"

The very word seemed to set Snow on edge. "You're… not from here, are you?" he asked tightly.

"Figured that out just now, hm?"

When Balthier stood, careful not to strain his sore back, Hope stepped forward from behind Vanille, both timid and wary.

"Then… are you from Pulse?" he hesitantly asked.

"He doesn't dress the same way," Vanille was quick to pipe up. "But then again, Pulse hasn't been lived on for hundreds of years…"

Pulse—queer name for a queer place. "I'm from Ivalice. Ever heard of it?" Balthier crossed his arms. "Of course not. You would have said something by now."

Vanille, her smile stretched across her face, reached over and grabbed his hands. "Well, then maybe we can help you! Stick with us, and you'll be just fine!"

Her offer was tempting, and though it seemed like he didn't have any other choice, he wasn't sure whether he could trust anyone. Fran would have told him he was going soft, because the pleading glint in Vanille's eyes spoke more volumes than her overly friendly proposal.

"We have to get going," Snow interrupted. "Serah's still out there, and I'm not going to just stand here and wait for Cie'th to swarm us again."

Balthier smirked, intrigued. "Oh? Some sort of hero, are you?"

"I'm the hero."

He took off running behind some door as if he knew exactly where to go—which Balthier highly doubted—and not too long after, the boy Hope trailed after the blond. Vanille, giggling, turned around.

"Well? Are you coming along, Balthier?" she asked before chasing after the other two. The tall, luminous door engulfed her like a monster devouring its prey. The very thought made Balthier shiver, and luckily no one was there to see his temporary worry.

I had a choice to make: follow those three and save the girl, or find a way back to Ivalice on my own. The decision, no doubt, would seal my fate in not only this world, but Ivalice as well.

Sighing tiredly, Balthier took one step forward and clenched his fingers into weak fists. His instincts told him to follow the other three, yet—was it the right choice? The girl, Serah, must have been in danger if Snow was so determined to save her. And who was he to call himself the hero? As far as Balthier was concerned, he was the only leading man of the story. No fool declaring himself a hero of the people could change that.

"Well, I can't stand here forever," he muttered and shook his head. If there was a girl needing to be saved, the leading man would have no choice but to answer her call. Who knew—perhaps he would be able to see what this new story would unfold.

He managed to catch up with the other three faster than he expected. Vanille seemed more than happy to have him there, and Snow merely nodded in his direction, glad for whatever help he could offer. Hope, on the other hand, didn't seem to care at all. In fact, from Balthier could see from the boy's subtle glare, he was planning something in the back of his mind.

The hallway seemed endless; its narrow path hardly left any room for them to walk, let alone stand up straight. Since Balthier had to duck down in order to avoid banging his head on the ceiling, Snow was practically on his hands and knees. But he was determined to go on, even if it meant leaving the rest of them behind. Vanille hummed to herself as she and Balthier walked side by side, and occasionally she would smile in his direction, seeing as how he kept a stiff, blank façade the entire time.

"How long have you been with them?" he asked, trying to break the obvious tension. "A girl of your caliber doesn't seem like the type to follow strangers."

"Quite the opposite!" she said with that bright smile. "Hope and I were on the same transport after we were Purged, and we've been together since…" Her expression shifted from joy to sorrow in an instant. "Since his mother died in the fight."

Ah, so his mother died. Balthier felt a twinge of pity for the boy, but left it at that.

"Then, after we made our way into the Vestige, we were ambushed by a group of Cie'th. And then Snow showed up, being the hero he says he is!"

"Hero, you say?" Balthier narrowed his eyes and glanced to where Snow led the group. "Bah, this story can't possibly have two leading men." Vanille started giggling, prompting him to ask, "What is so amusing?"

"Are you a hero, too? Just like in the stories? The hero who stops the villain, saves the day and gets the girl?"

He hadn't seen any sign of a villain, save for those soldiers earlier; he hadn't discovered any danger, unless the whole being taken captive and almost killed could be considered 'dangerous'; and as for getting the girl… Balthier met Vanille's eyes, somewhat bothered at the way she tended to flush and look away.

"That about summarizes me, I suppose," he finally said.

"Maybe that's what you're here for: to stop the Purge and save us all!"

Balthier stared at her in silence, but for some reason, her words made a semblance of sense. The world, that definitely was not Ivalice, was in dire need of saving. But that didn't mean Balthier was willing to save it if it meant risking his own life.

Breathing heavily, Snow ran up to them, and judging by the anxious and uneasy look on his face, something was wrong. "We've got trouble ahead," he panted. "A whole gang of Cie'th is just… waiting for us. How'd they get in here, anyway? From the Vestige?"

"Cie'th?" Balthier turned toward Vanille, who had already pulled out her weapon: an odd fishing rod that looked more like a pair of antlers from a horned fiend tied together.

"L'Cie who didn't complete their Focus in time," she said hastily, dashing after Snow and Hope. Balthier sped after her, jogging to keep up. "They wander around, unable to do anything else after losing their—how can I say it? Um, humanity!"

By the time they had reached the end of the narrow hall, Snow had jumped headfirst into battle and tackled one of the deformed, writhing creatures called Cie'th. Balthier grimaced; without a weapon, he'd have to dirty his hands to survive in this world. Hope, cowering behind Vanille and using her as a shield, avoided looking at the creatures altogether even though he carried a weapon (though, a boomerang was hardly a formidable weapon).

The Cie'th were on the hunt and they were the prey. Balthier cracked his knuckles and waved a small protection spell to Hope and Vanille, and almost simultaneously the boy flinched and looked up.

"Ah, magick must not be a usual thing here," Balthier murmured. He nodded to the boy, then turned his attention toward the creatures limbering toward them. "You all right, Hope?" he called out, smirking.

Hope swerved, waving his boomerang around in a pathetic attempt to fend off any threats. It almost pained Balthier to figure out that the boy thought that he—for whatever reason—was the threat. Somewhere not too far, Snow slammed his boot in the mangled face of a Cie'th, grinning widely from the euphoria of battle.

"You said you weren't a l'Cie," Hope spat, his free hand gripping Vanille's arm. "But you can cast magick like them!"

Of course. "Where I'm from, magick isn't reserved for the damned," Balthier explained, taking a few steps back. "Everyone—even foolish orphans—can cast it."

"How are we supposed to believe that? We don't even know you, so—"

As if to prove a point, Balthier flung a small Flare spell toward the Cie'th, promptly knocking one off the edge of the platform. He turned, facing the two children with a stern glare.

"I am not your enemy," he said flatly. "You can believe that."