Fire-Cross Knight

Sweat rolled in beads along Squall’s neck; he ignored them.

It had been almost six months since Ultimecia had threatened to destroy the world. Cid had only recently returned to his duties in the Garden, freeing Squall to return to the work force as the highest-ranking officer- he had felt an immense sense of relief at that. Despite the old man’s words of fate, Squall knew he was, at best, a leader on the battlefield, never in the halls of Garden where training children was a priority.

He strode the path in the Fire Cavern with an old familiarity. Only here, in the belly of fire itself, could the immense heat pass his junctions and cause him to sweat. He felt reassured by that, somehow. After all, at least he was still human enough to feel temperature changes.

He placed his boots carefully, Lionheart swung casually over his shoulder. For the most part, he was undisturbed by the residents of the cavern, but every once in a while a cocky Buel would challenge him, and for that distinct possibility he was always prepared.

Squall continued to search the rubble on the ground for any sign of Ifrit; he had been sent here to make certain that all had remained the same in time for the student exams this summer. Grunt work, certainly, but there had been no one else to send- with Selphie organizing rebuilding efforts in Trabia (which he had heard were well under way) and Irvine as her errand-boy between Gardens, with Quistis teaching again and Rinoa having moved home to Galbadia (with all forms of leadership destroyed, the country was dangerously close to a true civil war), he had no back-up on this mission, nor was there anyone else Garden could send. They always kept Squall at bay unless the situation was serious; his sudden celebrity coupled with his impressive appearance made him something of a valuable commodity- because of this, he was often sent on simple missions that kept him close to Garden. If Squall Leonhart was sent on a mission, it was either extremely simple or one requiring an application of sudden, and often violent, force.

Zell, of course, had offered to come with him, but Squall would have had to be deaf to hear the plea in his voice. Zell, as one of the most friendly-looking of the SeeD, was sent on missions on a near constant basis; this had been his first few days home in three months and Squall could hear him begging in his mind not to go. After all, it had been a long time since he had seen his mother.

So, with Squall’s recent kind streak, he was walking alone through the heated caverns near the Garden’s docking point. And so far, everything seemed to be in order. Ifrit, he knew, should be at the deepest point in the cavern, and he soon reached the extravagant hole in the ground.

“Ifrit,” he called, knowing that the Guardian Force would respond to him. He did not want to call the GF; he wanted to see him there for himself, so that he would be certain the students coming to find him would not be disappointed.

However, after a few moments, he began to realize that Ifrit was not responding. And it wasn’t like the straightforward GF to hide.

He walked around the hole in the ground, calling still for Ifrit, the feeling he always seemed to have when something was wrong climbing it’s way between his shoulder blades. Where was Ifrit? He was about to Summon him and ask him when he heard a clattering of rocks to his right- a sound of boots, not the sound of a scampering monster.

He turned sharply, eyes narrowing slightly. Who could possibly be here with him? He walked towards the sound; hand firmly on the hilt of his weapon. Could it be an over-zealous student coming to see exactly what he could expect on his exam? No, none of the students would have been so bold; if it had been discovered they had come out here on their own, they would be barred from this year’s exam. He placed his feet quietly, skillfully, following the sound down a path behind Ifrit’s throne that he had not been down before, choosing to go silently so that his prey did not flee.

After about five hundred feet he came to a new cave, a closed, dark place, the entrance to which was lit by the fitful flickering of the lava. He entered, and here there was no lava whatsoever- lights had been mounted every one hundred feet upon each side of the cavern’s walls. There was just enough clearance for someone two heads taller than he to walk through, and for two of him to walk abreast. He brought his gunblade down before him as he walked, in case he needed to swing quickly- he would not want to try to maneuver in this.

Soon he heard voices before him, echoing in such a way that he knew a larger grotto lay ahead. He listened to the familiar voices for only a moment before identifying them; his grip on his weapon tightened.

“I think I saw Squall,” Raijin said quietly. “I think he might’ve heard me.”

“Where?” Fujin asked, but in a very uncharacteristically low voice.

“In the central chamber,” Raijin answered.

“Followed?” She asked, and Squall came level with the entrance to the cave where they were speaking. He looked around the corner and noticed that this cave must have been deep in the ground- deeper than he had realized. The ceiling was nowhere to be seen, and the walls had given them such a berth that he could see a few smaller “rooms” which appeared to be partially obscured by curtains which could be pulled to give each room some privacy. They were set on poles embedded in the ground; this seemed to be more a home and less a hiding place.

“…I dunno, ya know?” He saw the speakers then; Raijin with his back to the entrance, and just a bit of Fujin’s arm as she stood directly in front of Raijin.

“If he comes, we fight,” she said, and suddenly Raijin turned to look at the door. Squall did not manage to conceal himself, and before he could speak, Raijin had lifted his staff to make good on Fujin’s orders. He walked forward.

“What are you doing here?” He asked them, gunblade before him in a defensive pose. He did not plan on attacking but would certainly defend himself.

“SILENCE!” Fujin demanded, stepped out beside Raijin. Squall hoped desperately that Seifer’s posse had not kept their fighting skills at peak condition; he was not absolutely certain he would win if pitted against them both. “LEAVE.”

“You are on Garden property,” Squall answered, knowing fully that if he didn’t say so now, he would be forced to lead a cadre of SeeD back to cleanse the cavern once he reported this to Cid. And he did not look forward to seeing them publicly humiliated, one-time enemies or no. The war was over.

“This is our home now, ya know?” Raijin said, gesturing with his staff, “We ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“FIGHT!” Fujin declared, lunging at him.

It was two-to-one but Squall fought like a caged animal- the battle itself was much more intense than anything he had been forced to face in the past six months. Even the new flood of monsters on the Esthar plains had not prepared him for the ingenuity and creativity of two people who had fought as one since they were children. There was one very horrible moment where he was overpowered, but he had managed to escape by rolling out of the way an instant before Raijin struck.

After what felt to be hours Fujin lay unconscious on the ground, Raijin sitting up against a wall. He had always been much more cooperative, Squall recalled, Lionheart planted firmly in the ground and supporting more of his weight than he ever would’ve admitted. He healed himself with a judicious blast of Curaga from his stores and looked levelly at Raijin, panting in his seat and examining the still Fujin beside him.

“What are you two doing here?” Squall asked. Raijin opened his mouth to answer, but the voice that spoke was not his. Raijin paled and looked over Squall’s shoulder- Squall turned.

“Protecting me,” Seifer said. “From people like you.”