Chapter 3:
The Touch Of A Human Hand | Let Him Fulfill His Deepest Dreams

The house was empty when Buttercup woke up the next morning.

Wendigo had left him a messily scrawled grocery list and a brief note that he would be returning by nighttime.

Buttercup's trip to the supermarket was weird, to say the least.

A wrinkly old woman smelling strongly of crayons sidled up next to him in the deli section to take a long, hard look at him.

"You will have an unexpected guest at your home tonight."

Upon croaking out this mysterious announcement, she handed him a perfectly round head of cabbage that she assured him he would need. Dumbstruck and speechless, he accepted the vegetable from this nutty stranger. And then he surprised himself by leaving it in his shopping cart and actually paying for it.

Buttercup's instincts picked up on the old woman's aura, which was luminous like stardust. He was convinced that her words held some modicum of truth. But what could she have possibly meant by a guest? Buttercup and Wendigo rarely invited others to their place, especially not after that one time they hosted a rager for their Grim Reaper colleagues and one of them vomited all over the landlord's Dolletian antique couch. Thank goodness the landlord was an easygoing fellow who had great respect for Buttercup. The landlord also had five more Dolletian antique couches from his other houses, so replacing it hadn't been an issue.

The cruciferous omen was now living in the refrigerator. Buttercup was too spooked to look at it but too curious to throw it out.

Shoving thoughts of the cabbage aside, he busied himself with dusting and vacuuming and other household chores until he ran out of sensible things to do. There was still a bit of time left until he had to cover Wendigo's shift. He supposed there would be no harm in showing up earlier than his usual habit.

He turned over the Name Card to inspect its global coordinates. This Soul's place of death wasn't too far from the house.

He turned it over again and her age transformed from 24 to 25 before his very eyes. So it was her birthday today…

Buttercup gloomily wondered how Quistis Trepe would react upon finding out that this day of celebration marked the end of her human life.

Shortly after getting dressed, he materialized on a stretch of untouched countryside that hugged the northern reaches of Obel Lake. The autumn sun was fast descending and a chilly breeze was circulating. He wandered over to a solitary tree at the edge of Roshfall Forest, leaned against the ancient bark, and crammed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat in some vague attempt to come out of his funk.

No such luck.

He dropped his fedora onto the grass, lit up an emergency cigarette, and exhaled several lungfuls of arsenic fog.

Buttercup didn't engage in this peccadillo often, but he really needed a cigarette today. His moods were cycling from one to the next with a ramshackle quality. He was more lonely than he was willing to admit. He was a little jittery about the old woman's prophecy. He was inundated with a yearning that he couldn't translate into words.

It felt so very wrong to enjoy a smoke when the Soul he was supposed to collect was scheduled to die from Smoke Inhalation.

Smoke pointed to the presence of fire.

He carefully took in his surroundings of tinder-dry vegetation, strong winds, and low humidity. It would only take a single spark. Just one accident to propel nature forward. One minute, calm. The next, calamity. He made sure to thoroughly extinguish his cigarette before wrapping it in plastic to throw out later.

In the distance, a tiny dot rumbled its way toward him along the dirt road. The dot steadily grew in size until he could make out a town bus that looked as if it was in serious need of a retrofit. The bus eventually puttered to a stop and opened its passenger doors with a labored wheeze.

The woman who stepped out was a point-blank dream.

In the streetlamp-illuminated night, alabaster skin and carnation cheeks gave her the appearance of a doll. Long golden hair waterfalled to her waistline, rippling wildly in the evening wind. Shopping bags dangled from her slender arms. The woman's beauty evoked feelings of understated strength and rich wisdom. The sight of her drew out an innate sense of romance that he wasn't even aware he possessed.

He felt genuine tears swelling in his eyes. He did not understand why he was crying. He was mortified by his reaction, but on a gut level he knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was someone special.

Buttercup continued watching her as she strolled in his direction. It appeared that she was headed toward the small neighborhood of cottage homes bordering the lakefront. His heart somersaulted when he realized that she was the woman on the Name Card.

As if the woman could hear his thoughts, she swiftly froze and stared at Buttercup like he was an apparition. She lost her grip on the shopping bags and they plunked onto the ground. One of them toppled over in slow motion.

Crap…

Buttercup was not wearing his fedora, which meant that he was not invisible to the woman like he was supposed to be. Of all the times that he could have let down his guard while on duty!

But why exactly was she looking at him like that? Could she somehow feel the essence of death emanating from him? And if she could, why was she not running away from him like any normal person in their right mind would do?

Quistis Trepe approached him slowly and noiselessly, as if doing so in any other way would cause Buttercup to shimmer away like a blacktop mirage. Her whole body trembled. There were exclamation points in her eyes. She was fully committing to her audacity in moving closer and closer to him.

He matched her stare with equal intensity, too stunned to do whatever it was that he was supposed to do in a situation like this.

"Seifer…?"

The woman recognized him. She actually recognized him—and not only that, but the way that name rolled off her tongue meant that she knew him on some personal level! Buttercup's existence had been validated in a way that no other human had done for him before.

How was this even happening? It was only yesterday that he had confidently reminded Wendigo of the impossibility of this scenario. The cloaking of a Grim Reaper's face and identity was a basic principle that was drilled into all of them from the first day of field training. Buttercup had never had to worry about the magic failing on him.

He felt dizzy with longing. He desperately wanted the woman to keep talking to him. He needed proof that he was not just another forgettable face.

Wendigo's words echoed meaningfully in his mind:

"If you had the chance to find out who you are, even if you can't get your memories back, wouldn't you give anything to know more…?"

Buttercup was suddenly sorry for all of the times he had poked fun at his friend's obsession with unearthing his human past. "Seifer" had been a real person, and the woman before him held the key to his identity.

Quistis Trepe reached out a hand as if to confirm that he was not an illusion. Buttercup panicked and instinctively recoiled from her.

Grim Reapers were prohibited from touching the hand of a human. Doing so would reveal all of the human's memories to the Reaper in the blink of an eye. Such an on-the-job mishap would require Buttercup to file an accident report and sign a confidentiality agreement to protect the human's privacy. Buttercup wasn't concerned with the paperwork as much as the sensation, for he had heard from his coworkers that it felt like being knifed in the heart. That, and there would be no clever way to explain himself out of this incident should Quistis Trepe succeed in touching his hand. He had already screwed up protocol in the first place by allowing himself to be seen by her.

Before Buttercup could think of what to do next, the woman let her hand drop limply to her side and looked away in what seemed to be sharp embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said timidly. "I mistook you for someone else…"

She turned around and returned to her shopping bags. The act of her leaving him there, alone and confused, felt intensely personal and quietly devastating.

How pathetic of him to cling onto this woman—and all for the stupid desire to be seen, acknowledged, and called by name. Did it matter that she was beautiful enough to move him to tears? No, it meant nothing, because she had given him a seed of hope and then cruelly snatched it away!

It was an awful feeling.

Quistis could sense his eyes following her as she walked away. She felt delighted and disturbed. Her mind was twirling and blinking. What in the world had just happened?

Maybe her birthday cocktail had resulted in a severe hallucination. It hadn't suited her taste buds but Xu had already paid for it.

Maybe she had stumbled upon Seifer Almasy's long-lost twin. Black looked quite dashing on him, she had to admit.

Maybe she was simply asleep and dreaming. But, all of this was too corporeal to be a product of her mind, however addled it might be.

None of these explanations satisfied her. Quistis' instincts were screaming that she had in fact encountered the real Seifer. The way he had returned her gaze convinced her that he wanted to make contact with her, and even more remarkable was the fresh set of tears glistening on his cheeks. But when she had reached out to touch him, he had shrunk away with such displeasure that she was left feeling hurt and rejected. She had stuttered out a total lie; obviously she could not have mistaken Seifer Almasy for "someone else."

It was impossible for a dead man to emerge before her in the flesh looking like he had not aged a day past eighteen, but Quistis had lived through so many unbelievable circumstances as one of the Liberi Fatali that nothing could really faze her anymore. Her only hope was that Seifer's appearance was not some disembodied trick of Time Compression, for that had been one of the most frightening experiences of her life.

She sighed as she unlocked her door and felt for the light switch. It looked like this was going to be a very long night. Her adrenaline was jacked from the Seifer sighting and she had plenty of homework that would keep her burning the midnight oil.

She emptied her bags onto the dining table. Some were filled with clothes she had bought for herself and others contained birthday gifts from the rest of the gang that Xu and Nida had delivered to her.

She got to work cobbling together some dinner with leftover ingredients as she thought deeply about the man who had once been her dream.

"If we ever meet again by some divine act of Hyne…"

Seeing him just now dispelled the ache of the past seven years.

"…then I think I would take it as permission."

Quistis knew that she had stumbled upon a marvelous manifestation of magic.

"Permission to do things over. Another chance to get to know you, to try to understand you, to forgive you and be forgiven by you."

Not the academic sort of magic that was taught to Garden operatives from early childhood, but the kind of magic that could only originate from the holiest heights of Heaven.

"Most of all, it would be another chance to love you."

And even though her chance had lasted a mere minute, it was enough for her to know that her artless appeal in the columbarium that day had somehow reached the throne room of the Great Hyne.

Quistis did not get to have her meal.

She heard the shouts of people right around the time she began to smell the smoke.

She hurried outside to find the woods engulfed in flames. An erratic gust was rolling the destructive force in all directions and a few of her neighbors' homes were already overtaken by the raging element.

"Quistis!" her next-door neighbor yelled, grabbing her by the shoulder. "You need to evacuate now!"

Quistis instinctively launched into disaster mode. "Has everyone been informed!?"

Her neighbor pointed to another neighbor who was running around the courtyard banging his fists on peoples' doors. "I've already called to report the fire!" she added hastily.

Quistis dashed back into her house and pulled out her emergency backpack from the utility closet. She wedged in her work purse, laptop, and textbooks. It was a bit heavy but nothing that a former SeeD wouldn't be able to carry.

She was about to flee from the area when another neighbor cried out in distress. She wheeled around and saw that it was Mrs. Blake, the elderly widow who lived several doors down from her.

"Please! Please, help me." The widow wrung her hands, her delicate figure barely holding on in the blustery winds. She was on the verge of tears. "I can't find Crouton. I can't leave him behind!"

Crouton was Mrs. Blake's pet chicobo. He was only a baby, small and frail like his owner.

It didn't matter that Quistis was a civilian now. She would always have the desire to help others in any way that she could. She looked the widow firmly in the eye. "I'll get Crouton for you, Mrs. Blake. Just wait right here."

Quistis ran into the widow's flaming house.

She called out the chicobo's name over and over. The tension and danger of the situation cut into her senses like a narcotic. Everything was unbearably hot and bright and angry.

She found Crouton crouching and shaking beneath an old armchair. She kneeled on the floor and held out a coaxing hand to the petrified bird, who soon waddled out of the tight space.

Part of the roof caved in. Crouton squealed and bolted toward the front door.

Quistis found herself tangled beneath a mess of wooden beams and ceiling plaster. She was not hurt, though the angle at which she was trapped made it difficult to budge. She intuitively shielded her face with her one free arm. The backpack felt harsh and cumbersome on her body. A bloodcurdling sense of panic welled up inside of her as she struggled to free herself from the claustrophobic rubble.

The fire was moving, unpredictable, consuming. The heat ratcheted up. Her vision grew gauzy. She started wheezing painfully. Time was running out and Quistis knew with a bleak dread that she was going to perish tonight. This was certainly not the way that she wanted to go but there was nobody around to hear her objections.

The one thing that brought her comfort in these last moments was knowing that she had successfully rescued the widow's beloved companion.

But still, she did not want to die! Her spirit protested against it, and she wrestled with all of her might to escape from this fiery nightmare.

And then she saw the figure of Seifer Almasy in the blazing inferno.

Quistis could not comprehend how he was appearing at this exact spot and at this exact time. She became confident that he was not merely a vision. His gaze rested on hers for a fraction of a second and she was filled with hope, because she saw in his eyes something pure and noble and fervent.

This time it was he who extended his hand. Quistis grasped onto it in sheer relief. He kicked away the crackling debris with ease, hauled her from the ground, and wrapped an arm around her to place his other hand over her eyes. She felt an airy whoosh and a fine sprinkling of mist.

Seifer uncovered her eyes.

She coughed up a lung and looked around her in heart-thumping bewilderment. They were somehow standing on the opposite side of Obel Lake farthest from her home. The water was lurid with the reflection of the menacing flames. Fire trucks wailed lugubriously in the distance.

She turned her attention back to Seifer. He had not let go of her hand yet. He was gripping it tightly and looking intently at her, his face a contortion of pain and wonder.

"Quistis…?"

Quistis Trepe's mind had opened up to Buttercup the second she touched his outstretched hand in the fire.

The sensation was nothing like the pain that the other Grim Reapers had warned him about.

On the contrary, it felt gentle. A blizzard of memories, only the blizzard was not made of winter ice but of spring florals, each layer of her mind emerging like budding roses.

Eavesdropping on her inner monologues. The odyssey of her life. The footprints that she left. The wellspring of feelings that resided deep inside of her.

There was a stone house by the sea, weathered on the outside but filled with the laughter of children on the inside.

The girl was lost in the fantasy world of her books. She ignored him when he asked her what she was reading.

Then she, too, was ignored when she went to live in a new home.

She left again, finding comfort in her studies. He was there with her at the academy, but she did not seem to recognize him.

The girl transformed into a woman.

The woman was looking at him. She was also distracted by someone else. She took her chances with the latter man and she was humiliated.

Now she was pleading with him not to leave. He fought his way out of confinement. She chased after him as if her life depended on it.

But he was too far gone for her to reach any part of him.

She faced him again and again in the carnage of war. He fell apart and she kept a stern gaze but she still cared for him even in his wretched ugliness.

Time was collapsing. She was falling through sand and rock. She held onto her memories of him and found her way back to the present.

He left this world too soon. She mourned for him, as did a powerfully-built man and a silver-haired woman.

She gave him a beautiful thimble and cried one last time, wishing for another chance to love him—not an unrequited love, but a real love!

And when these scenes stopped playing, Buttercup wondered if he had ever loved Quistis Trepe in return.

He would have to co-opt her memories and confront his demons and do whatever else it took to find out exactly who he was.

This was his chance to start over.

"Seifer…"

Quistis was relieved. His identity was no longer a question. It was him, it was really him, and not just a figment of her imagination!

Seifer squeezed her hand in acknowledgement and then released it. "Listen, we need to get the hell outta here." He gestured to the spreading fire behind them, the scene hypnotic and haunting, its urgency not quite getting through to her, as she had been delivered from the worst of the threat.

Quistis gaped at him as a difficult truth sank in.

Where could she realistically go…?

Fujin would be gone for the next two weeks and everyone else she knew lived much too far from Obel Lake. After all, Quistis would have to continue going to work and school like everybody else—never mind the fact that her home and everything in it was burning to cinders at the moment.

"I'll head to the inn nearby," she finally said.

"The inn's already full because of all the displaced residents from the fire," he informed her calmly.

"How do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things," Seifer said solemnly, "like the fact that nobody here is gonna die tonight."

Quistis opened her mouth and immediately closed it, not knowing what the appropriate response should be. He had known that she was about to die and had just saved her life. It was evident that he was some resurrected version of Seifer Almasy with a supernatural twist.

"Stay at my place while you sort things out."

She hesitated.

White flecks of ash were being tossed about in the wind like morbid confetti. The weirdness of this night was already well underway. Should she just embrace it for what it was?

"Hey." Seifer's gaze softened. "I can't just leave you here."

The proposal was hard to resist. She was tired and defenseless and the idea of being cared for in this way sounded so very appealing. Her life might be heading into a storm, but she could be safely huddled with the one who had protected her. How could she pass up this strange yet beautiful opportunity?

Quistis nodded her assent.

Seifer did not bother to cover her eyes this time.

Their surroundings vaporized into a brume of colors and she felt the familiar breeze and the mist once more.

Buttercup-Seifer felt like he was walking a tightrope act. There were just too many damn things going on right now. He needed time to reflect but he also needed to look after Quistis Trepe.

He was critically aware of the fact that he had defied his ultimate duty as a Grim Reaper by allowing this woman to live. No, that didn't sound quite right. Only Hyne had the right to allow life and death while Buttercup-Seifer was simply the intermediary of this everlasting cycle.

The intermediary who had just committed a crime.

Taking this Soul away from her destined path of death was in all likelihood considered high treason. He knew that he would eventually have to deal with the consequences. He saw it as a good thing that he hadn't been struck down by lightning (yet).

Surely he couldn't be the only Grim Reaper in the history of the universe to have interfered with a human's death?

Apparently he was just as rebellious in his dead form as he had been in his human form, for he saw himself carrying out atrocious acts through the eyes of Quistis Trepe. Things that made his skin crawl, things that made him question whether he had ever possessed an ounce of righteousness. Things that didn't quite make sense to him because of course, her memories belonged to her alone and did nothing to restore his own. It felt peculiar to see her side of the story without being privy to any of his own motivations.

When Buttercup-Seifer and Quistis Trepe teleported to the house, it was dark. This was a good sign. It meant that Wendigo wasn't home yet.

Wendigo…

Buttercup-Seifer had been utterly amazed to see his friend in Quistis Trepe's life story.

He learned that Wendigo's real name was Raijin. He had been just as warmhearted as he was now. He had also been a fearsome warrior who fought alongside him in their younger days. He and the silver-haired woman called Fujin had selflessly served Buttercup-Seifer until they could no longer bear to see him manipulated by his dreams: dreams that had caused him to break with the wisdom of his time, dreams that had warped him beyond recognition, dreams that had sadly disintegrated into nothingness.

Buttercup-Seifer would need to inform Quistis Trepe that Wendigo-Raijin was his roommate. He was afraid that she might faint upon seeing yet another person who was supposed to be deceased.

But wait…

Hyne's cloaking magic would prevent her from even recognizing Wendigo-Raijin, right?

(It was getting confusing to have to remember multiple names. He was going to stick with "Seifer" and "Raijin" from now on.)

Another thought struck Seifer. The fortune teller had told Raijin that his present-day family member used to kick him around. Could this be the woman called Fujin? In Quistis' memories, he had definitely seen Fujin booting his friend in the shin on multiple occasions.

Quistis took off her backpack and sat down on his living room couch with diffidence. "Seifer," she said, turning to look at him with a grave yet thoughtful expression. "Are you…" She swallowed nervously. "Are you alive?"

"Uh…" Seifer observed her in a minor shock. He hadn't expected such a straightforward question. Since he was going to get penalized for tonight's violations anyway, he felt emboldened to continue with his unscripted revolt. "Technically, no. I am not alive."

Quistis nodded as if they were having the most logical conversation in the world. "Okay. I thought so."

"There's something else I should tell you," he began cautiously. "My roommate is someone you know." He figured he might as well say it. If Quistis could recognize him, then maybe she could recognize Raijin.

Quistis blinked at him in surprise. "Who is it?"

"Wen—I mean, Raijin." The name sounded foreign on Seifer's tongue. He thought it suited his friend well. "He's not home yet."

She paled at his answer. "So Raijin is also, ah…'not alive' like yourself…?"

"Yeah, but you might not be able to recognize him."

"What do you mean?"

"It's tough to explain…"

Quistis was confident that Seifer and Raijin knew who she was; Seifer only knew who everyone was in the context of Quistis' memories; Raijin would not know Quistis at all; and Fujin wasn't even a part of this mess but would probably be walking into it very soon.

This was going to make for one hell of a reunion.

The ordeal of this night was finally starting to catch up with Quistis. Seifer could see her body rejecting her circumstances. Her figure slackened. The glimmer in her eyes faded. She fiddled nervously with the scarf around her neck. The motion caused bits of ash to flutter onto the couch. She muttered an apology and tried to clean it up.

"You need to eat," asserted Seifer. "What can I get you?"

Quistis regarded him with a fatigued yet tender expression. "Something simple would be nice, thank you. Even if it's just cabbage. That's always been a comfort food for me during times of stress."

"Cabbage?" Seifer silently thanked the old woman for her prescient gift. "Yeah, I actually just bought some. I'll make some dinner for you."

Quistis visibly relaxed. "I would appreciate that very much."

"You wanna unwind in the guest room while I cook?"

She shook her head emphatically. "Later is fine! Do you mind if I keep you company in the kitchen?"

Seifer could sense that she didn't want to be left alone. "Sure," he agreed. "But I want you to rest."

"Don't worry, I'll let you do your thing." Quistis pulled out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses from her backpack and put them on. "I'll have to go against your edict of rest, though." She gave him a faint smile.

While she settled down at the dining table with her laptop and what appeared to be textbooks, Seifer shot a bunch of texts to Raijin.

Buttercup:
Don't freak out but we have a guest staying over

Buttercup:
Apparently I knew her in my human life

Buttercup:
I'll explain everything to you later…

Buttercup:
ALSO my name is "Seifer" and yours is "Raijin"

Buttercup:
Just go with that till I get a chance to tell you what's happening!

Cabbage by itself would make for a paltry dinner, so Seifer chopped up the vegetable with flank steak and added soy sauce and a handful of other ingredients in an improvised stir-fry. Now it made sense why he was such a natural with kitchen knives. He had seen the way he could fight with that dazzling blade of his called Hyperion.

He vaguely wondered what had become of the weapon. Perhaps it was with the mother figure called Matron. She had been present in Quistis' memories since childhood. He could see how much this Matron loved her children, and he had been astonished to find out that she had doted upon him the most.

Wendigo:
? :o :D XD !

Wendigo:
I don't understand but

Wendigo:
OK SEIFER ;)

Wendigo:
I, Raijin, shall be home soon!

It was at times like this that Seifer appreciated his friend's simple and uncomplicated brand of loyalty. Raijin would eagerly follow along with Seifer's plan until he was told otherwise. There were certainly enough revelations to result in a year's worth of therapy at the very minimum, and Seifer felt the need to hold off on additional bombshells until Quistis could at least sleep and recover overnight.

"This tastes really good," she told him gratefully. "Thank you, Seifer. I promise that I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Don't worry about it," he replied casually. "Just make yourself at home."

After their meal, Seifer showed Quistis to one of the guest rooms and finished tidying up in the kitchen.

Soon he sensed Raijin teleporting stealthily into the foyer and tiptoeing into the dining room. He wiggled his eyebrows at Seifer in an attempt at semaphore.

Seifer gestured an all-clear. "Our guest has turned in for the night," he stated. "But let's keep our voices down just in case," he requested in a low tone.

"Gotcha." Raijin took a closer look at him and frowned with concern. "You look beat, Butter—uh, Seifer."

If only you knew the extent of it.

"It's been a long day without you, Raijin," said Seifer mournfully.

Even in this second lifetime, even without their memories, the two friends had naturally gravitated toward each other in some kind of miracle. If the bond of their friendship ran this deep, then how much deeper was the bond between him and Quistis?

"Aww, you missed me." Raijin flicked his hand girlishly and then waved it over Seifer's head. "Where's your fedora?"

Seifer's eyes widened. The last time he remembered wearing the hat was right before he lit up that cigarette by Obel Lake. He let out a frustrated groan. "It's probably burnt by now."

"Didn't know you had such a huge grudge against it," Raijin joked with a grin. "I can help you fill out a request for a uniform replacement." He lifted up a bright pink cake box. "In the meantime, I got you a little something to celebrate the discovery of your humanity!"

"Raijin, this cake is perfect."

"HA!" He pointed an accusing finger at Seifer. "So you were pretending this whole time that you didn't care about finding your identity…"

"Fine, fine. I admit it's a good feeling. But back to the cake—it's Quistis' birthday today!"

"Quistis…? Oh, you mean our house guest?"

"Yeah."

"That's even better!" Raijin placed the cake box on the kitchen counter. "So where did you even find this girl? And how is she cool with seeing you dead? Tell me all of your methods!"

Seifer sighed. "No methods, really."

"You don't seem too thrilled about it."

"I am thrilled. It just…didn't happen in the best way. I, uh, touched her hand," said Seifer evasively, cutting a slice of cake. "Hey, do we have any candles?"

"Say what?" Raijin pulled open a drawer and handed him a small rectangular box. "Alright, I can help you fill out an accident report too."

"No, I mean I touched her hand on purpose." Seifer lowered his voice a notch more. "An accident report isn't a good idea 'cause Quistis is the Soul on your Name Card. The one from today."

"Hold up!" Raijin's eyes became large as saucers. "Okay, so she's alive. That means something went wrong."

"I saved her life," said Seifer baldly.

Raijin's mouth fell open at his friend's confession. "Oh, man. Seifer, this is bad!"

"I know. Just tell me how bad it is."

A light bulb seemed to turn on in Raijin's head. "You saw yourself through her memories, is that it? WAIT!" He was rapidly fitting all of the puzzle pieces together. "Did you see me in her memories too!?" he whispered excitedly.

"The three of us knew each other," confirmed Seifer. "'Seifer' and 'Raijin'—I didn't pull these names outta my ass." He grinned. "They were really ours. I mean, they still belong to us."

Raijin steadied himself with a hand on the countertop. "This is unreal."

Seifer poked a candle into the slice of cake. "Move Quistis' name out of your Roster and onto mine as soon as possible," he ordered his friend. "The last thing I'd want is for you to get in trouble for this."

"Okay." Raijin started pacing back and forth. "I don't think you have to worry too much about being caught. Everyone thinks that the Afterlife is more efficient than it actually is. I've seen some loopholes in the business procedures, ya know?"

Seifer chuckled. "This is just like old times! I'm committing crimes and you're helping me cover 'em up."

Raijin's face fell. "Hey, that's not fair! You know our shared past now."

"Not everything," corrected Seifer. "Just bits and pieces from Quistis' perspective."

"Why did you decide to save her?" asked Raijin curiously.

"Long story short, I didn't have my fedora on and she recognized me. And knowing that, I just…" Seifer struggled to articulate how he was feeling. "I couldn't bring myself to let her die like that."

He wouldn't dare tell Raijin that he had cried like a girl upon seeing Quistis. That he believed she could make even the darkest future worth sticking around for. And that he was eager to see how good his love might look on her one day.

"How?" Raijin's brows twisted in confusion. "We were literally just talking about this yesterday. Hyne's magical protection and all?"

"I have no idea," said Seifer, shaking his head. "Quistis is either immune to the magic or it's another loophole like you said." His expression turned dreary. "Oh, and please don't tell me that there's a form I need to fill out for failing to wear my uniform properly!"

Raijin grinned. "Nah, something like that would probably just go on the accident report. But since you won't be submitting one anyway…"

"Damn right I won't."

Raijin's laughter died in his throat. "You didn't reveal your occupation to her, right?"

Seifer threw him an offended look. After all, he was still a professional who took pride in his job, even if he worked with little to no fanfare. "Of course not! 'Hey girl, missed you a lot. How've you been? Oh, me? I'm an Angel of Death these days.' Yeah, that would really give me points for charm," he said sarcastically.

"Hmm…'Angel of Death' has a nice ring to it. Can we start calling ourselves that? And dude, what do you mean by 'missed you a lot'? Was Quistis your girlfriend!?"

"I'll look into getting you wings," Seifer deadpanned. "And no, she was not officially my girlfriend. Or even my friend, I guess. It was…a complicated relationship."

Raijin gave him a scrutinizing look. "How did you guys get here if I took the car?"

"Alright, so she kinda saw my powers in action," admitted Seifer. "And then she straight-up asked me if I was dead, which I couldn't exactly lie about."

"I'm starting to see what you mean about me helping you cover up crimes," said Raijin dryly. "But ya know, the violations you just mentioned aren't as serious as the whole stopping-a-scheduled-death thing. That one definitely tops them all."

Seifer grinned devilishly. "I'm getting the feeling that I've always been an expert in rule-breaking."

"I guess it's worth breaking some rules for love," sighed Raijin wistfully. "Who knows? Maybe I'll even find my family soon."

Seifer wasn't certain about Fujin's identity and didn't want to get his friend's hopes up until he could confirm his hypothesis with Quistis. "I'm sure you will," he said carefully.

Raijin suddenly embraced him in a bear hug. "Seifer," he sniffled. "I can't believe we found each other like this!"

Seifer hugged him back. "It's good to be with you too, Raijin. Sorry for going on and on about myself. I didn't even ask you how your day off went!"

"What we just found out is WAY more important than my day off. Let's catch up later tonight, ya?"

"Alright."

Raijin slapped Seifer on the back. "Now go wish your girl a happy birthday!"

Seifer had given her a choice between two guest rooms. The capacity to think had completely gone from Quistis so she had randomly chosen the one on the second floor.

The room featured an enchanting skylight hovering above a sumptuous double bed and unique lamps that inhabited every possible nook. The presence of the skylight and the lamps would ensure plenty of visibility no matter what time of day it was. There were shelves lined neatly with old tomes that looked as if they contained epic stories, ones that had the power to sink their hooks into her and never let go. This miniature library gave Quistis a warm comfort in the thick of what was otherwise a ghastly night.

Losing her home to a natural disaster, finding herself in a near-fatal jam, and then being rescued by a man who was supposed to be dead was sapping all of the energy out of her. She flopped onto the cushiony bed for a few moments of peace and gazed at the pretty expanse of stars through the skylight.

As Quistis unpacked her belongings, she recalled the rash manner in which she had barreled into that house to save an animal. Call it foolhardy, but if she were to go back in time she would have made the exact same decision. She cared, cared a lot, cared too much—this had been the Garden administration's very rationale for taking away her professional status as Instructor No. 14. This part of her past no longer stung her, though she thought of it on occasion as an objective matter of self-reflection.

If she had not willingly stepped into that perilous situation, would she have seen Seifer Almasy again?

Probably not.

Quistis sighed and figured she should take a shower to clear her mind.

Her throat felt swollen and irritated from breathing in fumes. She dug through her pack until she found the unlabeled bag of Cure-infused cough drops that Dr. Kadowaki was in the process of patenting. This particular batch was a slightly earlier iteration of the formula but the doctor had assured Quistis of its efficacy. She tried one and instantly felt an ambrosial substance coating her insides.

She grabbed soap, shampoo, and a few other toiletries before stepping into the bathtub.

There was something curious about him. He was almost like a man who had been robbed of vital details, a man who couldn't exactly remember who Quistis was or what his relationship to her had once been. His gaze was vulnerable instead of sneering and his body language radiated with a new kind of resilience. There was even a hint of silent melancholy about him—the type of air that she never would have associated with a character like Seifer's, though that didn't make him any less appealing (just the opposite, in fact).

In her mind, he was forever an adolescent. The sun-kissed blond who had bruised her with his disobedience and repeatedly usurped the throne of her inner peace. But seven years was a long time and it really wasn't fair for her to judge him without taking into account all of the changes that could have taken place between then and now. She liked to think that she had matured significantly and was sure that Seifer had, too—whether he was a human or a spirit or something else altogether.

When Quistis emerged from the shower, she noticed she had scrubbed herself a little too vigorously in her preoccupied state of mind. Her scalp was tingly and her skin was pink, so she cracked open the window for a breath of fresh air.

Peeking beyond the frame, she saw that she was situated on a woodsy cul-de-sac. She wondered where this house was located. If she was currently on the other side of the world from Obel Lake University, then she would need to find a new place to live as soon as possible—not that she was planning to stay here anyway, as she was already feeling uncomfortable imposing on another's hospitality. Especially when that person happened to be Seifer Almasy.

Xu was calling her cell.

"Hi," Quistis answered tiredly.

"QUIS!" her friend burst out. "Thank Hyne you picked up. The Lake Fire's all over the news! I take it you're safe?"

Quistis nodded and then realized that Xu couldn't see her. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. I can't say the same for my house, but thanks to our rigorous military training I at least got out of there with a fully loaded emergency kit and then some."

Xu sighed in relief. "I'm so glad you're okay." There was a long silence. "I'm really sorry about the house. I know how much you adored it. And, well…all of this is happening on your birthday, which is beyond crummy."

"It's alright. For some reason, I don't feel very troubled about it. At least, not right now."

"Have you found a place to stay? You know you're welcome at my dorm anytime."

"And you know how much I appreciate the offer! But for now I'm staying with…um, an old colleague."

Quistis fidgeted at the thought of hiding something this big from her best friend. But Xu was fairly removed from her day-to-day life, so Quistis could get away with not saying anything for a while. She just needed time to process everything for herself first.

"Okay, good. Hey, why don't you take a day or two off from work?" suggested Xu. "Don't forget that you're in a crisis. Give yourself some time and space to recover."

"I can't," said Quistis. "Fujin's off for the next two weeks and she needs a vacation more than I do."

"Oh, no."

"I'll be okay."

"I'll let you go and rest now. Don't make yourself all distressed by turning on the news! I can tell you right now that the Lake Fire's at five percent containment and they're sending in more firefighting crews from the other precincts."

"Do you know if the University's affected?"

"The business district is safe for now. The fire's spreading mostly into the forest."

"Okay, thanks for the info."

"Please call me if you need anything, alright?"

"I will. Bye, Xu."

"Rest up, Quis."

The mention of Fujin in their conversation brought on a fresh wave of anxiety.

Seifer had told her that he and Raijin were roommates; Raijin was confirmed to be dead-yet-alive like Seifer; Fujin had no idea that both her brother and her friend had returned; and Quistis was somehow the one connecting the side of the dead to the side of the living.

She had a strong hunch that the four of them would be colliding with each other shortly. Her anxiety quickly morphed into excitement. It appeared that this miracle wasn't just for her. It was meant to be shared with the others!

She would have to tell Fujin about the two men. The only question was when and how. If Seifer had suffered from some kind of partial memory loss, then the same phenomenon might be true of Raijin. She couldn't assume anything and would have to play this whole thing by ear.

Quistis placed a hand over her heart and willed herself to stay calm.

She sat at the desk next to the bed, opened up a textbook, and continued to read where she had left off.

Thirty-odd pages later, she began to yawn uncontrollably.

There came a soft knock at her door.

Quistis opened it to find Seifer holding a slice of classic cake with a long striped candle. He was grinning at her for the first time that night, his playful gaze illuminated by the dancing flame. The sight of him was so reassuring, the gesture of bringing her this treat so sincere, that it temporarily made her forget all of the stressful events she had just gone through.

"Happy Birthday, Quistis."

Quistis slowly broke into a grin herself. "Thank you, Seifer. I'm surprised that you even knew."

"Are you really, though?" he questioned. "Surprised, that is." He smirked then, and she felt a surge of affection at the familiarity of it.

She chuckled lightly and relieved the plate from his hands. "I suppose not. As you said earlier, you seem to know a lot of things."

"It's mandatory to make a wish."

"Before I do, I'd like to thank you." Quistis met his gaze seriously. "For saving my life."

A cloud of anguish came upon his features and she could not understand why.

So Quistis closed her eyes, not having to think twice about what she wanted.

I wish for Seifer to be happy. Even if I'm not in this picture, please let him find his way. Let him fulfill his deepest dreams.

And then she blew out the candle.