Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Fallen Knight ❯ Training ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

: Chapter 4 :

Training

One and a half months afterward . . .

“To easily defeat a monster with the element status of ice with a physical attack you should . . .”

Quistis waited patiently for the answer, then frowned after several moments when it was not forthcoming. She turned to her student and glared as she found the blonde male reclined in his seat, letting out a loud yawn.

“Seifer!”

“What?” he demanded, stifling another yawn before turning to give her a glare.

“The answer, if you please.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why? We both know I already know it.”

“Because I'm your Instructor and I told you to.”

“But it's ridiculous!”

“You're not leaving this library until you answer the damned question!”

“Elemental attack junction with fire magic,” he finally quipped in a sneering voice. “Come on Instructor, this is pointless. I already know all this stuff!”

“You've been out of training for over five years,” Quistis announced huffily, turning a page in the text she was holding. “It's my job to refresh you on the topics and make certain you know them.”

“You're torturing me on purpose aren't you,” he suddenly growled in an accusitory voice and Quistis had to fight back a smirk. Granted, she wasn't doing anything of the sort, but it was humorous to know that he thought so.

“Of course not. I'm merely following the curriculum.”

“A curriculum which you yourself created,” Seifer was quick to point out.

“When fighting a monster with element attack magic,” she called loudly, ignoring his comment, “to take less damage from these attacks you should . . .”

“Move out of the way,” he grumbled.

“Seifer!”

“What? It's true!” he insisted at her dirty look. She maintained it for a solid minute before he threw up his hands in defeat.

“All right, all right! Elemental defense junction with the same element. Geez.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, attempting to not sound too smug and failing miserably.

“Sadist,” was his under-the-breath response.

“Baby,” Quistis just as quickly retorted, then smiled herself when he couldn't hold in the snort of laughter.

They were interrupted by the bell and Seifer groaned. Quistis closed the books and began gathering her things.

“Great,” he groaned, slowly getting to his feet. “The hour and a half long intellectual torture over, now I'm off to go be subjected to an hour and a half of psychosis followed up by the physical torment.”

Quistis smirked. “I'll see you bright and early tomorrow to continue where we left off.” He rolled his eyes and nodded, shoving his hands into his Garden jacket pockets. She hesitated for a moment, then, “I'm very proud of you, Seifer.”

He froze, then turned to give her a wide-eyed look. Quistis straightened slightly, her posture going stiff with nervousness. “No, I'm serious. In these past two months you have shown a great—if sometimes reluctant—improvement. Despite the sometimes less-than-encouraging manner of some of your instructors, no less. In such a short time you've come a long way,” she added softly. “I . . . well I just wanted you to know that it's appreciated.”

At the last, his stunned look melted into a more familiar, sneering one.

“Yah, can't have me screwin' up your precious career.” She frowned.

“Seifer, that's not what I meant—,”

“No, no Quisty it's ok,” he assured her. It wasn't often her name—or even the short of her name—passed his lips, and she was thrown off by it enough so that he continued without her interference. “Hey, I mean I understand,” he continued, voice somewhat bitter and a touch self-depreciating. “You gotta do what you gotta do, right? No hard feelings.” He gave her a mock salute. “Now if you'll excuse me Instructor, I gotta go learn how to eat salad with the right fork and cut a rug with the most annoying female ever to walk Gaea.”

And with that he turned on his heel and then stalked from the library. Quistis could never term Seifer's movements as something so simple as walking. Even still on the thin side and malnourished, he moved with the lazy grace of a predator, a long-legged stride that hinted at the deadly power contained within, just waiting to strike.

She sighed as she watched him leave. Granted, Quistis was worried about her position here at Garden, but that wasn't how she had meant her comments to Seifer just now. Trust Almasy to twist it all around, however. She had been serious, though. In only a month and a half's time he had already come so far in his training . . . and in his recovery. After Study Hall with her in the library, Seifer went to the Quad for Dimplomacy and Ettiquette lessons, taught by Assistant Instructor Selphie Tilmitt. After that he went on to Physical Fitness and Hand-to-Hand Combat in the 2nd floor Weight Room, taught him by Assistant Instructor Zell Dincht. Afterward he was allowed a half hour lunch break, followed by Magic Theory, taught him by Sorceress Edea Kramer in her personal office, and usually Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly sat in and helped as well.

He wasn't too keen on that whole class altogether, but reluctantly accepted the fact that Matron and Rinoa were two of the most qualified individuals for the job. From what Q uistis had heard over meal discussions, Seifer was even more moody and subdued in that class than any other, for understandable reasons. Not only was he uncomfortable with Sorceresses in general after his last episode—and with Edea especially—but everyone frequently forgot that Seifer and Rinoa were apparently an item the summer before the Second Sorceress's War. Seeing her with Squall, whom Seifer frequently viewed as his ultimate rival, couldn't be comfortable.

Quistis knew it had been a while before she had been able to put it aside, after having fancied herself in love with the stoic Commander Leonheart once upon a time. Those feelings had faded with time, though, just like so many other things in her life. Quistis began to wonder if she was even really capable of loving the way her friends did. Or had something happened to her in the first, harsh years of her life that simply shut that part of her down? With a sigh she forced herself to stop waxing poetic on her screwed up emotional state, gathering her books and departing the library entirely.

After his Magic Theory class, Seifer then met Assistant Instructor Irvine Kinneas out in the Training Center for Sharpshooting and Firearms. And at the end of every day Seifer met Commander Squall Leonheart outside Garden for a little one-on-one gunblade dueling to help resharpen his skills with his weapon of choice.

It had taken Quistis a solid week to convince everyone to help her out, and then get their temporary Assistant Instructor liscenses through the system. Some of her friends were more enthusiastic with their new duties than others, obviously. Surprisingly Squall didn't have hardly any argument at all, though that perhaps might just be because he relished any opprotunity to beat the crap out of Seifer and not have to listen to Rinoa's chastising afterward. Then again, it might also be because no matter how old those two got, they would always be guaging themselves against each other.

“Selphie . . . you're supposed to be teaching me diplomacy and stuff. Not making me your Garden Festival Bitch.”

Seifer turned to give the female in question a hot glare from where he was holding up a banner. The diminuative, bouncy female strained to tie it in place from her precarious position up in the scaffolding of the stage that she had had errected from the engineers of Fisherman's Horizon. She paused in her work to stick out her tongue at him, green eyes dancing.

“Oh hush, you big meanie. This is teaching you diplomacy. It's teaching you the diplomacy of helping me out with the Garden Festival preparations.”

Seifer sighed and rolled his eyes, scowling off into another direction and doing his utmost to ignore her excited chatter, failing of course. Selphie had shown him not an ounce of fear or hatred since he'd been back, one of the few to do so. He didn't know why, really. Perhaps Selphie was just incapable of holding a grudge, but she carried on with him as if he were one of the gang, laughing and joking and somehow making him feel at ease.

And roping him into doing ridiculous things like holding up banners for her while she climbed around steel scaffolding ten feet off the ground.

“This year is going to outdo all the rest, just you wait and see,” she was exclaiming with barely-contained excitement. “I've booked only the greatest band in the world to play, 1,000 Needles!” Seifer sighed again, ignoring the pain beginning to shoot up his arm from holding it at such a weird angle for such an extended period of time. Most people with any sense agreed that 1,000 Needles was more noise than it was music, but they had become intensely popular with the singular, “odd” groups . . . so naturally Selphie was the president of their fan-club and ran an entire fan-site on the Garden's web server for them. Where she found the time to do that, head up the Garden Festival Committee each year and be a SeeD he'd never know.

“You are gonna come, right?” Selphie suddenly questioned. Seifer, who had stopped paying attention to what she was saying, turned back up with raised brows.

“What?”

“The Garden Festival, you dummy!” she snapped playfully, making the last few adjustments with the enormous banner they were streaming across the stage. Seifer thankfully lowered his arm as soon as she was done, then stepped back to allow Selphie room as the girl bounced down from the scaffolding and landed in a perfectly executed crouch. It was easy to forget that this little bundle of annoying euphimisms and sunshiney personality was a deadly Rank A SeeD. She dusted off her hands, resituated her bright yellow jumper, then fixed him with a look. “You are going to come to the Festival, right?”

Seifer scoffed, walking over to the stage and hopping down.

“Parties and Festivals were never my thing. Besides, it'd probably only cause problems.”

“Pish!” she contradicted, following after him. “There won't be any problems at my Festival, I can garauntee you that. C'mon Seifer!” she suddenly whined, reminding him of the tiny mop-haired child he used to play with at Matron's orphanage so many years ago. She ran until she'd caught up with him and placed herself in front of him, turning those dewy green eyes to full-on-pout-mode. Inwardly he gritted his teeth. She used this tactic when they were little to get whatever the heck she wanted, and it seemed Selphie could still utilize it to the best of her ability. “This'll be the first Festival since your return to Garden! You gotta bust onto the scene and announce that you're back in business!”

His eyebrow quirked.

“Plus,” she continued, “you've worked so hard with me to get everything ready! It wouldn't be fair if you didn't come!”

The bell suddenly rang, saving him. He shrugged as he moved around her.

“I dunno, Sephy,” he murmured, “we'll see alright?”

He left out of the Quad, missing Selphie's excited grin. She pumped one fist into the air, murmuring “Booyaka!” to herself.

Seifer sighed heavily, reluctantly entering the elevator minutes later to ride up to the 2nd floor. And here came the worst part of his day, in more ways than one. Zell had been probably the loudest advocate against Seifer being reinstated into Garden two months ago, and he sure as hell didn't agree to personally train him without putting up a big, long, loud fight about it. Seifer was convinced that what must've finally convinced the chocobo-haired martial-artist to do it was that Zell'd finally be able to get a leg up on him. While Instructor Dincht was in charge, Seifer had to do whatever he said or risk getting thrown out of Garden. And, oh did Zell take advantage of that.

More than once Zell had pushed him in his physical training to the point of vomiting. He'd missed more than one lunch break just laying in his room, too sore and tired to move, let alone eat, and then it'd taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to drag himself out to the Training Center to meet with Kinneas afterward.

Zell hadn't pulled any of those hellish sessions in a while now, though. It was still gruelling however. Seifer vowed he'd never ever make fun of Dincht's fighting style or training regime ever again, as he had it on good authority that the hell he went through every 3rd period was only a fraction of what Zell put himself through on a daily basis. It took balls and one hell of an amount of dedication to do what that guy did to keep himself in top shape. And there was no arguing the fact that Dincht was probably the most deadly hand-to-hand fighter in the world. Seifer counted himself lucky to be able to train with the goof, though he'd never admit that aloud of course. But his sparring had already improved vastly over what he was capable of even before joining up with Ultimecia. The same went for all the other areas of his training as well.

As much as he detested having to sit in the same room with the same creatures as the one that had stolen his life, Edea held a greater understanding of the forces of magic than any other being alive he'd wager. And Rinoa, when she just happened to stop in during his classes, also had an incredible amount of untapped power inside her too. Inwardly Seifer wondered how Squall dealt with being with her, dealt with it. He had seen the mark a few weeks ago, during one of their little sparring matches. Squall had taken his jacket off from the heat and Seifer had spotted the pale white feather tattoo that curled around his left breastbone.

Rinoa had made him her Knight.

Seifer trembled with revulsion even now at the thought of it, then scowled and thankfully exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened. The night that Ultemecia had tied him to her had been one of the most horrific of his life. After she'd finished with him he vaguely remembered crawling into a corner of the room and throwing up, then huddling there for the rest of the night with the sound of her sadistic laughter ringing in his ears. Obviously what she'd done to him had been different than what Rinoa had done, either that or Squall was made of solid iron for it not to have effected him.

Seifer entered into the sparring and weight-training room, spotting his stocky tormenter already dressed in a sparring uniform and throwing warm-up punches.

“Yo, suit up Almasy,” Zell suddenly called without turning around dipping slightly before his fists shot out in a complicated cut-jab maneuver as he bounced from foot to foot, ever at the ready. “We'll warm up today with some sparrin' before we get to the weight-liftin'.”

Seifer resisted the urge to point out that that's what they did every day, instead heading into the back room to change out of his regular Garden issues for the black t-shirt and navy sweats they used to spar in.

After about a half hour of Zell kickin' his ass—with a gunblade he might've held out a little better, but bare-fisted Zell was gonna kick his ass every time, easy (though he comforted himself with the knowledge that Zell could kick anyone's ass bare-fisted, even the mighty Squall)—they toweled off and then Zell spotted him on the weight bench. Seifer gritted his teeth, arms burning from the strain. The blonde martial-artist was silent for a while, then,

“Yo . . . say you were thinkin' of goin' to the Garden Festival, right?” he suddenly commented, and Seifer struggled to listen as well as pay attention to what he was doing with the weightbar above his chest cavity. “And let's say you were thinkin' of takin' this girl, but . . . you don't really have a lot in common with her. And . . . well, you've never even really talked to her a whole lot. But you really like her. What would you say?”

Seifer was unable to respond, straining to try and get the bar back in it's cradle. Zell watched him for a minute, then reached out and easily lifted it back into place. Seifer released with a gusty sigh, then sat up and turned to him. His eyebrow raised.

“You asking me for dating advice, Ch—Dincht?” he caught himself. Zell frowned however, face coloring slightly.

“Forget it,” he muttered, then turned. “Get your ass on the board. I want a hundred and fifty sit-ups before the bell.” Seifer scowled. It was a damned force of habit! He'd been calling Zell Chicken Wuss since they were old enough to talk. He got up from the bench and approached the inclined sitting board.

“Who is it?” he then questioned. Zell shook his head.

“Just forget I said anything, alright? Now get up there, I ain't got all damn day.” Seifer peered at him for a minute, then smirked.

“Lani?” Zell whirled, and the bright crimson that started staining his cheeks gave Seifer all the answer he needed. “Alana Tonberry, eh?” he continued.

“How the hell'd you know?” Zell demanded huffily. At that he chuckled.

“I don't take you for much of a reading type, Zell, but every other afternoon—when a certain Head of the Library Committee is working at the desk—you rush out of the cafeteria and head straight for the library to ask for a book you know damn well hasn't been returned yet, if it's been returned. That kinda gave me a clue.” Zell had nothing to say to that, his eyes glancing away guiltily. Seifer sighed. “You're right about not having much in common though. She's . . . what, two years younger than you?” He nodded. “One of those really smart, intellectual types. And you . . . well . . . you're you.”

Zell scowled at him for that and Seifer chuckled again.

“Well, do you have any idea if she even likes you?” Zell shrugged.

“I dunno . . . she always smiles at me when I come in.”

“She smiles at everybody when they come in, that's her job. You got anything else to go on?”

“Not really,” Zell murmured miserably. “She's always really quiet and soft-spoken, she doesn't really say much.” Seifer's eyebrow raised. That wasn't the Alana Tonberry he had encountered. She was generally very well-spoken, not loud and obnoxious by any means but not the timid doe that Zell was describing. Maybe the little Library Girl had a think for Dincht after all. Who would've thought.

“Well what you gotta do is come up with something impressive. A grand gesture of some sort,” Seifer announced, clapping the much shorter man on the shoulder. Zell gulped, his face turning a little green.

“Grand gesture?”

“Yeah,” he assured confidently. “Girls like grand gestures. It shows `em that you're willing to make a complete ass of yourself in public for them. Shows dedication.”

Zell took that in, nodding to himself, then sighed and turned back to Seifer.

“Well? What the hell you waitin' for?” At Seifer's confused look Zell grinned. “I still want those sit-ups, Almasy. Gotta get some meat on this bony ass of yours.”

Seifer groaned, then obligingly got up onto the board.

Forty painful minutes later the bell rang and Seifer hobbled his way into the cafeteria. The main student body pretty much avoided him, and he was generally left alone for the most part, which suited him just fine. Seifer would just as soon not have curious busy-bodies and/or hostile onlookers hanging around him all day long. He got his lunch, a heaping tray of the spaghetti special and two hot dogs on the side—his appetite had vastly improved—then went to take his now usual table near the back of the cafeteria.

From his seat, he could see the table that his motly crew of Instructors sat at. Zell was mysteriously absent, and Seifer grinned, wondering if the goof was working on that grand gesture they'd just been discussing. Otherwise the scene was a normal one. He found his eyes straying over to Quistis, and took the female in as she sat with her head bowed to a book. She straightened her reading glasses as he watched, then continued the gesture to absently push a tendril of hair that had escaped her clip back behind her ear. Whatever she was reading, she was totally engrossed into it, expression rapt and blue eyes moving rapidly. As he watched, she pulled her full bottom lip in between her teeth, then quickly turned the page, devouring it's contents as quickly as she could assimilate them. It was a look and an expression that couldn't help but turn a man's thoughts to other things, in a different situation.

Seifer sighed, turning away and continuing his meal. Nothing had changed, even after all these years. He was still sitting off in a corner, pining after something he could never have. It was pathetic, really. His lips twisted somewhat ruefully before he shoveled in a fork-full of spagetti noodles. Seifer had always had a thing for the little blonde instructor, even when they were kids—though admittedly his fascination for Quistis at that age had been a sight more innocent than it had become in later years, after puberty had struck. Quistis Trepe just had a timeless sort beauty about her that drew him in like a moth to a candle flame, he who was secretly obsessed with all things medieval and romanticized. Like some regal queen or fairy princess, with that soft cornsilk gold hair, flawless alabaster white complexion and those blue, blue eyes of hers that could make a guy forget his own name if she ever turned them on you.

Quistis had always wanted Squall, however, even though the guy either didn't have eyes in his head or was just too damned dumb to notice. Besides, a girl like Quisty would never want a guy like him. They were too different, now as well as then. She was cool, level-headed, smart and capable. He had always been tempermental, hot-headed, brash and arrogant to a fault. So Seifer had never let his odd fascination for Trepe to progress any farther beyond looking from afar and the occaisional . . . okay, frequent masturbation fantasy. During the summer before his life had gone to the shitter, while he was taking time off in Timber, he had met and thought himself in love with Rinoa for a short while. But their relationship had been based on nothing more than one of them using the other, he now saw. She had wanted to get close to anyone having to do with Garden and SeeD, while he was just using her as a means to try and make himself forget about a pair of ice blue eyes.

Things hadn't worked so well on his end, which is why they parted ways as soon as Garden re-opened in the fall.

“SEIFER!”

Seifer jerked, then turned to see Fujin and Raijin hurrying through the tables and heading in his direction. He smirked, watching as the latter had a little trouble maneuvering his muscled girth in between the chairs. After nearly tipping two over and almost unseating a female student—and after Fujin gave him a whack in the shins—they managed to make it over to him. Raijin hobbled painfully, giving his smaller female counterpart a wounded glare as they both sat down at his table.

“Heya Seifer,” he mumbled. “Just got back from the mission, ya know? Thought we'd come and say hey, ya know?”

Fujin sat back a little and leveled him with a look with her one good eye, then she smiled.

“BETTER.”

“Yah, you're lookin' a lot better, ya know?” Raijin quickly followed up, nodding. He shrugged, then finished his mouthfull of food before asking,

“So what was the mission? Or can you talk about it?”

“FINE,” Fujin assured, and as usual, Raijin elaborated.

“No big deal really, ya know? Just had to go and flush out some terrorists workin' down in Esthar. Nothin' we couldn't handle, ya know? Took a little longer that we expected, but all's taken care of and we're back home for a month of leave, Cid says.”

“YOU?” Fujin questioned curiously. Seifer sighed.

“Fine I guess, all things considered. They haven't beat the shit out of me or knifed me in the back yet, so I guess you could say that things're going better than expected.”

The three of them slipped into old habits, almost as if nothing had ever changed. Raijin made odd comments, Fujin yelled at him, Seifer laughed at the both of them and inserted his own opinions here or there as needed. Toward the end of the lunch break Seifer found himself sitting back from the table, a real smile flirting at the corner of his mouth. Finally, it seemed as if some of the darkness in his soul was beginning to heal. He was finally able to see that there might just be a light at the end of his long, dark tunnel. That he might just find that happy ending after all.

He never noticed the pair of blue eyes that gazed at him from afar.