Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Chasing Spring ❯ Miners, Beer, and Fried Fish ( Chapter 4 )

[ Notes/etc.: I wanted to thank Final Fantasy Online and Split Infinity for his (her?) monster guide. Both have helped me sort out the few monster problems I've been having. I'm happy to say my memory served me correctly. (For the most part…)

Also, I wanted to mention that Seifer-time is a few days or so behind Zell-time. So what you actually read in chapter two took place about a week before Selphie looses the mogaki. The two time periods catch up to each other in this chapter, but I still thought it was worth mentioning. Sorry if this causes anyone confusion, but it just happened spastically and I didn't feel like changing it. Whoops…

On another note, I wanted to apologize for Rosso. He just kinda created himself and I didn't have the heart to get rid of him. Thus, he takes up a bunch of time I could have spent furthering the plot. Sorry about that, but I've decided he can forward the action later on, so all is not lost.

And, to Verdanii (Thanks for reviewing! ^_^) and the few others that care, mogaki actually means 'life.' I have my limited and often selective knowledge of Japanese to thank for this. ]

IV - Miners, Beer and Fried Fish

Seifer was not having a good day: the heater had been broken for three days straight and Kantell, the obese owner of the building, hadn't found anyone to fix it. Using his own limited knowledge, Seifer had tried to mend the thing himself, but had only ended up getting covered in grease and cutting his thumb on a jagged strip of metal hanging precariously underneath the heater. To make matters worse, his new job had started merely two hours ago and he was already sick of it.

All he had to do was baby-sit a few miners while they piddled around the nectyte caves and fight off any monsters that strayed too close. Apparently, the mines had never reached optimum production because of the pesky beasts. Caves-ins and gas leaks were nothing compared to a few hungry Blue Dragons.

But so far, Seifer had yet to encounter anything more deadly than a pair of wandering Bite Bugs. He was getting paid though, so Seifer hung around, dutifully shadowing the miners like a lost Junior Classman.

The men, and occasional woman, talked amongst themselves of spouses, the weather, and the personal business of their neighbors. Seifer ignored them; as it were, few spoke to him directly. Instead, he settled himself on top on an upturned barrel, leaned back against the slick wall of the cave, and watched his charges work:

The miners moved, surprisingly, quickly and efficiently, shouting instructions that fractured their senseless conversations. They worked at the walls of the mine with pick axes, scintillas of nectyte shimmering to the ground by their feet, gathering with the discarded rock. Other workers transported the product; the combined load of rock and priceless crystal was dumped into various mechanical sorters. The unsightly metal protuberances did their jobs as effectively as their human counterparts, humming a sharp, clanking tune as they separated the loads.

Crates of pure nectyte were loaded onto the backs of trucks and driven to one of Nessel's three processing plants; there, it would be skillfully worked into Energy Crystals.

Wheelbarrow loads of rock detritus were discarded in piles outside the mine. The frozen hills of brown earth towered well over the workers' heads, and little avalanches of icy chunks cascaded down whenever a strong wind blew.

The whole process resembled a giant machine; each pair of calloused hands just as important to the whole as the gears within the sorters. Every individual became suddenly smaller, laboriously striving to meet the day's quota. Groans and clashes, and the metallic clank of machines droned and echoed off the concave walls.

Seifer watched with a bored detachment, wondering to himself how much longer he'd have to wait like this. Despite the cold, he removed his right glove, rubbing his healing thumb in an unconscious movement. The small, deep cut trailed diagonally across his soft flesh. A rough scab puckered out, surrounded by irritated, pink skin. Seifer tried to scratch at the wound without opening it. Small tears of blood oozed from ruptures in the scab. Seifer glared at his thumb, trembling in the cold, before popping the digit into his mouth, sucking noisily. A nondescript miner stared curiously as he passed. Seifer turned his glare to the passerby and grunted around his thumb; his empty glove lay forgotten on his thigh.

The man went on about his business and Seifer picked up his glove with his left hand, propping his right heel up on the opposite knee, and replacing the glove. Finally removing his thumb from his mouth, Seifer scrutinized the wound. The minute bleeding had stopped but the scab had softened and looked as if a brush against anything would remove it. The disgruntled blonde snorted softly and laid his wounded hand on his lap, clutching the glove in its non-opposable digits.

The hours passed slowly, and Seifer's back grew cold against the rock wall. He had gotten up to stretch a few times previously but had decided that the effort of getting comfortable again wasn't worth it and had just decided to remain stationary until it was time to leave.

Some time around noon, a skinny little man in overalls and an ugly wool sweater with a big nose and hairy ears had brought Seifer a sandwich and had sat with him, only attempting once or twice to make conversation, during the lunch break. Seifer had only thanked him for the sandwich before he left, and the man had offered him a smile, a name, and a dry, gnarled hand (the tall blonde had been surprised the other wasn't wearing gloves, but had shook the hand anyway, emotionlessly stating his own name).

Rosso Begn, as the miner called himself, stammered a quick excuse of having to get back to work, but nevertheless invited Seifer to come talk some more over dinner. Perking up at the mention of a free meal, Seifer had agreed, mentally questioning his decision. The tall, bony man had scurried back to his gems and frozen dirt, bubbling with excitement over the prospect of a dinner guest.

Seifer sighed and told himself to be patient before going back to picking at his thumb.

As it turned out, Rosso's shift ended late, just when Seifer was finally allowed to go home. Cold, irritable, and hungry, he followed the older man out to his truck, climbing in the passenger side and rubbing his palms together to warm them (he had put his glove back on). Rosso started the truck and drove up the hill, chatting pointlessly about the mines, himself, and any stray thought that crossed his mind.

Seifer mentally prodded himself to keep his mouth shut; the man was offering him free food, something he couldn't afford to pass up. Sure, he had a job now, but he also had to save up every bit of gil he could get his hands on. He was determined to find a more permanent residence as soon as possible.

Rosso parked his truck beside four walls of beaten-down wood inlaid with tin. The small 'house' lay on the outskirts of town, somewhere in that no-man's land of crossed light that Seifer had strayed into a few nights prior. The miner unlocked the front door (though Seifer doubted there'd be anything inside that warranted someone breaking in) and gestured for his guest to enter before him. Seifer obliged, sniffing curiously as he set foot in the darkened room.

"Hold on a minute and I'll light some of th' lamps," Rosso said, brushing past Seifer farther into the house.

Seifer stood in place, his arms folded over his chest, until one, two, and then three gas lamps were lit. The insubstantial light flickered wanly across the warped and water-marked walls; streaks of dirty light just barely brushed the ceiling. A small, cluttered space stretched into view before the young blonde. The four corners of the room were filled with their own respective mass of garbage: To the direct left of Seifer rose dusty towers of magazines and newspapers, torn out articles and discarded paperbacks. To his right stood a rotting, wooden chair, a jacket hung over it's back and various pairs of boots littering the floor around it. Against the wall across from him was a dingy sofa, covered with piles of folded clothes and blankets. Beside it was a simple doorway leading off into another room shrouded in darkness. Rosso had already disappeared into it.

"Nice place," Seifer mumbled sarcastically, toeing at a suspicious burlap sack covering a definite square shape.

By the time he had revealed the crate under the sack, Rosso had returned, smiling uneasily and ushering Seifer into the next room. Not once did he offer any excuse for the mess, and Seifer said nothing further, glad that no one he knew was around to see his uncharacteristic good behavior.

Rosso led him into a small kitchen (another room led off to the left, Seifer presumed it was the bedroom) and seated him at a remarkably clutter-free table. "I was thinking of just frying up some fish, if that's all right with you."

Seifer shrugged. "It's fine." The truth was, Seifer was more than pleased; a hot meal was something he hadn't enjoyed in some time. For the past week, he had been living off cold sandwiches and junk food bought from the snack machine in the downstairs lobby. Even if Begn sucked at cooking, Seifer figured it'd still be better than a bag of peanuts and Choco Jellies (however much he liked Choco Jellies).

"So how'd a young man like you end up all the way out here?" Rosso asked, his back to Seifer as he dug around in the freezer for supper. "I mean, it seems like you could've found more opportunities in Galbadia. Or Dollet, even."

"Maybe I just like the snow," Seifer replied stiffly, badly wanting to scratch his cut thumb.

Rosso laughed to himself. "Or maybe you already tried that." The lanky miner had retrieved the fish and was preparing a frying pan, pouring a decent amount of vegetable oil into its currently un-sizzling depression. "Truth is, I was more than a bit curious as to why someone like you would show up here. Place doesn't seem to fit you, really."

Seifer blandly noted his host's annoying habit of leaving off 'the' at the beginning of his sentences. "I just ended up here," Seifer grumbled, hoping the man would take the hint and leave him alone. "It wasn't a goal of mine or anything. Believe me, there are thousands of other locals I would much rather be."

Nonplussed, Rosso continued, leaning back against the stove and facing Seifer. "You…uh…You out here looking for your girl, or something?"

Seifer laughed; the sound sharp and not entirely unlike a bark. "Like hell! Who do you think I came up here to find? Kantell?"

The miner chuckled. "I should hope that isn't the case. If 'twere, I'd be reconsidering your sanity. Or at least your eyesight."

"Fuck eyesight, man! I'd have to be deaf, brain-dead, and completely without a sense of smell to stomach a relationship with that woman!"

"So, a rock, basically?"

Seifer laughed again, the sound genuine this time. Begn wasn't so bad, Seifer conceded, looking the man over in a new light. He had thought he'd have to suffer through a night with this man to save a couple of bucks. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

It was late, and temperatures were below freezing, but Seifer was in a better mood than he had been since before his final SeeD exam. The fish had been wonderful, soft and melting on his tongue, and Begn had turned out to be a great host. Despite his bumbling appearance earlier, Seifer found himself actually starting to like the man. He knew nothing about him, really, but he was interesting company, and one hell of a cook.

"How long have you been out here?" Seifer asked, swallowing the last of his beer. He shook the can sourly, hoping to hear a few final drops sloshing around. Noticing his dilemma, Rosso retrieved him another can from the 'fridge before answering.

"Oh, I've lived here since Nessel's was founded. I came down from Tarrok. (That's even farther north, you know. Only a few miles away from that Shumi place. Quiet lot, that.) An' before that, I lived way down at FH. I was a mechanic before I came up here. Not very good at it, though. That's why I left."

Seifer could tell from the man's tone that that wasn't the reason he had left, but he held his tongue, content to just sit, listen, and drink the older man's beer.

"But I guess I've lived in Trabia for…hmm…twelve years now," Rosso said, scratching at his unshaven chin. "But how 'bout you? Where did you live before Trabia?"

Seifer stretched, titling his chair as far backwards as it would go without tipping over and popping the kinks out of his neck. "Balamb," he said eventually, hoping the miner wouldn't connect the port town with his name. "After that…well…I've been all over."

Rosso nodded, taking a sip of his beer (he preferred his in a chipped coffee mug; something Seifer hadn't questioned, simply taken it in stride). "I always wanted to travel," he said. "Gettin' too old now, though. 'Sides, I never seem to have enough money."

"That's something I understand perfectly, my friend. Gil is as hard to come by as a skinny dipper this side of Garden."

Rosso chuckled, shaking his grey head. "Have you always been this funny? Or is it something the cold brings out in you?"

"I'd like to agree with the former, but I seem to be having trouble remembering that far back," Seifer seemed oblivious to this slip, happy to just take the discreetly offered beer can from Begn and settle back into his chair.

The miner eyed him curiously for a few moments before getting to his feet. He stretched his tired muscles and glanced at his greasy clock. The time read ten after one. "I hate to send you home like this, but I've gotta be up in five hours and I presume you do, too."

Seifer nodded, downing as much of the new can as possible before getting to his feet, rubbing his hands together to dispel some of the chill he'd picked up from the aluminum. "Yeah. Besides, Kantell will be getting worried if I'm not back soon," he grinned mercilessly.

Rosso just offered him his same, tired grin. "G'night, Seifer. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep, bright and early. Thanks for the fish," Seifer gave the man a half-hearted wave and departed for the cold outside.

Still lost in his good mood, Seifer strolled into town. His gloved hands rested warmly in his pockets and his eyes were on the heavens. The sky was clear tonight; cold and unmerciful and sprinkled with stars. He was halfway to the inn when a stray sound caught his ears. It was soft, and at first he thought it was just the wind until it repeated itself. The noise was that of a small child; tiny and mewling and so pathetic that Seifer's first thought was, Oh, Hyne, someone's left a baby out here!

He stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and listening a third time for the sound. It came from the gutter a few feet in front of him. Steeling himself, Seifer took a deep breath and slid to his stomach on the dirty snow, jutting his injured hand into the dark maw of the gutter. He groped blindly, hoping senselessly to grab a hold of the crying child. Curiously, the sound stopped, and Seifer was about to give up when two sets of claws sunk through the material of his glove, thankfully missing the cut on his thumb. He held his breath, imagining some diseased rat attached to his hand, contemplating the best place to bite. Slowly, so as not to startle it, he withdrew his arm, lifting it up into the street-light and stinging wind.

"What the…?"

The small, rabbit-like creature cooed at him and craned its neck, licking at the hand it was hanging from. Its round, dark eyes glinted intelligently as it released its hold and dropped to the snow in front of a very dumb-struck Seifer, charging immediately for his exposed crotch.

Seifer tensed, grabbing too late for the strange creature. Luckily for him, the critter jumped up onto his leg, and scurried inside his coat, clinging helplessly to his shirt and nuzzling against him for warmth.

Wanting to fling the creature from him, but lacking the heart to do it, Seifer looked down at his strange new charge, his lips turning in disgust at its sickening cuteness.

"Ahh…Dammit…"