Author's Notes: I decided to challenge myself with another First Person POV, this time in Seifer's voice!

My story is pre-game and canon-divergent, though I'm not planning to compose an epic. This is more of an AU setting that allows me to casually explore some 'what if' questions concerning Seifer and Quistis. The chapters will be very short (like my vignettes) and my goal is to pack a ton of emotion into each one.

This ficlet (which is part of a mini-series) centers on the themes of lust and longing, so I had to bump up the rating to M for language and sexual content. This is new territory for me—and one that I had never imagined entering as a writer—but I hope that you decide to stick around, because if you know me by now, you know that I LOVE to experiment with language, characterization, and storytelling while turning readers' expectations upside down.

So, thank you very much for checking out my latest interpretation of Seifer. Please enjoy! :)

Chapter 1: Dire Consequences

I know there's something wrong the second I see a flock of students huddled around the bulletin board.

I make my way through the sea of people while struggling to catch bits of conversation over the general hum of the cafeteria.

"D'you think it's a permanent change!?"

"It has the Garden seal on it, so yeah…"

"NOOO! WHYYY?"

"Who's Zoo?"

"It's pronounced Shoo."

"We only have a month. That's not enough time!"

"Ugh, we're pretty much done for…"

"Dibs on Instructor Trepe!"

"Oh no you don't! We claimed her FIRST!"

"Shove off, Trepies!"

The way her name is tossed around like an item at an auction makes me bristle. By now, it's become a reflex.

I push past a few more bodies and stare with unease at the official announcement thumbtacked to the cork board:

Dear Students,

Please be informed that all clubs and organizations will be required to have the ongoing support of an Instructor or Faculty Supervisor by the end of this month (March 31st).

The new role of the Supervisor shall exercise duties that include but are not limited to:

• Ensuring alignment with Balamb Garden's mission and values.
• Creating and maintaining the club's constitution and bylaws.
• Working with the club Treasurer or equivalent position to oversee the budget.

Please plan accordingly, as there will be no exceptions to this rule. Any club or organization that does not comply with the supervisory requirement by the deadline will be asked to disband.

Note that it is permissible for individual Instructors and Faculty to supervise more than one club. You may ask them directly or let the Garden Administration know if you would like your club to be matched to a supervisory candidate.

The full list of details, including Form C-8 (Club-Supervisor Agreement), can be found on the Garden Intranet under News & Announcements. Feel free to reach out with additional questions or concerns.

Best Regards,

Xu
Email: seedxu
Phone: 3100

"Dammit."

I dislodge the sheet of paper from the board, eliciting cries of protest from my peers.

I storm out of the cafeteria in wordless agitation, all the way to the small closet situated at the end of the boys' dormitories that my friends and I have repurposed into the Disciplinary Committee Room.

My faithful posse is there waiting for me.

Raijin is studying for a junctioning theory exam, chanting terminology to himself under his breath.

Fujin is reading a book at her compulsively clean desk, which is devoid of the nutrition bar wrappers that seem to materialize wherever Raijin goes.

"Have you guys seen this!?" I question, gripping the offending announcement. "Total fuckin' outrage."

Raijin frantically shakes his head from side to side and raises the volume of his chanting as a plea to not distract him from his mnemonic devices.

Fujin is not in the least surprised. She presents her own piece of paper.

"STRATEGY…"

I raise my brows and take a look at the printed spreadsheet.

It's an impressive table that gives an overview of every Instructor and Faculty in Balamb Garden: ages, classes taught or areas managed, known hobbies and other interesting facts, and a success factor represented by a numeric scale (1-5).

Where does Fujin even get this information? She's definitely the brains of our operation.

"So 1 is the highest compatibility?"

"OTHER WAY."

I scan the page and quickly find that there are only two candidates with a score of 5: May J. and Quistis Trepe.

"YOUNG."

"Young," I repeat thoughtfully. "You're thinking of somebody who can vibe with us. Somebody who won't spoil all of our fun."

"GREEN."

"And green 'cause they wouldn't know any better." I nod in agreement with her logic. "Sure, why the hell not, I'll supervise your band of delinquents!"

"NOT DELINQUENTS." Fujin's grin is sly. "ROLE MODELS."

"Right," I say with a wink. "Role models. Peacemakers. Shining examples of all that Balamb Garden stands for, lives for, and dies for."

Raijin finally stops chanting. "Hey, guys! What did I miss?"

"DC's gonna be forced to disband if we don't find a club Supervisor by the end of the month," I inform him grimly.

"Oh…" He shrugs and gulps down his smoothie as a reward for studying. "That's a bummer, ya know?"

The news doesn't seem to hit Raijin too hard. My boy knows that we'll be friends for life no matter what.

I turn to Fujin in gratitude. "Thanks for compiling this."

"WELCOME."

The research results don't look very promising, but I can't just sit back and watch my group crumble because of some political stipulation that's being foisted on us.

Being the Head of the Disciplinary Committee is a legitimate source of power, and power is admittedly something I don't have much of outside this context.

Insecure?

Sure, whatever.

But what kind of person doesn't enjoy the feeling of being in control?

Instructor Trepe's proud little swish of her uniform skirt as she walks up and down the rows of desks to proctor our exams. She's drawn to the discipline, the authority, the influence.

Selphie Tilmitt, transfer student from Trabia Garden. The girl who's constantly in my face trying to get me to sign up for the Garden Festival Committee. She dreams of creating an experience, making a memory, and doing it all with a big ol' bang.

Even Xu with her announcement. I bet she smirked as she typed up the letter to tell us what we students (read: subordinates) can and can't do. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already sent a curse or two my way in hopes that the Disciplinary Committee will cease to exist.

"Hey, Raij…" I walk over and place Fujin's sheet on top of his open textbook. "You have Instructor May J. for homeroom, right?"

"Yeah, that's her!"

"I want you to sweet-talk her into becoming our club Supervisor."

"Sure, boss."

"If she refuses, try Instructor Trepe next."

Raijin hesitates. "I'm pretty sure we've never even talked to each other."

"Alright, then Fuj can ask Instructor Trepe."

Fujin scoffs at her delegated task. "REASON?"

"Instructor Trepe hates me," I state with affected nonchalance. "Her most troubled student, the bane of her existence, blah blah…"

But it's more than that.

I despise the thought of being rejected—even if she's saying no to the DC as a whole, rather than me as a person.

Fujin snaps her fingers to get Raijin's attention. "ASK TOGETHER?"

"Okay," agrees Raijin, peering with interest at the table of names. "And if Instructor Trepe doesn't work out, we just go down this list…?"

"Yeah, from highest to lowest numbers."

I glance at Instructor Trepe's row of stats.

18 years old, like me.

Advanced Principles of Para-Magic. Two one-hour sessions a week. I happen to be in this class.

Introduction to Physical Conditioning. Every Saturday morning for three hours. I hear she works them hard but buys them lunch afterward. (Is that kind of thing even allowed?)

Natural Blue Mage. Triple Triad enthusiast. Allergic to crustacean shellfish. Likes wearing jeans and owns at least twenty pairs, according to an anonymous Trepie. (That sick little bastard…)

Fujin rises from her desk. "START NOW."

"Can we do it tomorrow?" yawns Raijin. "I'm pretty beat from cramming, ya know?"

"NO TIME." Fujin kicks his shin in her signature move. "DIRE CONSEQUENCES!"

"O-o-o-ow!" Raijin hops up and over to the door. "Okay, okay. I'm moving!"

Fujin grabs the sheet and follows at his heels.

"Thanks," I call out.

Why does it feel like I'm sending them off on a suicide mission?