Arcane Crisis
folder
Final Fantasy VIII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,053
Reviews:
37
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VIII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,053
Reviews:
37
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters in this story, nor do I profit from writing this story.
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Fully dressed, Squall sat waiting in the dark. It wasn't light out yet, still hours till sunrise. He hadn't slept well. Too many thoughts, too much noise in his head. And he was impatient. Soon, he would get what he'd come for. He could only hope that Seifer hadn't let his skills as a gunblader deteriorate. That would be a major disappointment. Frowning at the thought, Squall idly touched his chest, grasping for his griever pendant. He hadn't thought much of his missing necklace till now, other thoughts more prominent in his mind. Though they were more prominent, he kept pushing them aside. He didn't want to deal with their meanings. He didn't want to dwell on why he had reacted the way he had when Seifer had touched him or why Seifer had chosen the payment he had. Or even why he felt envy when he walked around in this house. Those thoughts simply didn't matter. To pay attention to them would only lead to him being mentally unprepared for the upcoming fight. He needed his mind calm and collected, void of disruptions. He could deal with those thoughts later. Maybe if he planned how and when to deal with them they would leave him alone for now. Sighing, the brunet rubbed tired fingers against his forehead, kneading the tense muscles.
Descending the stairs, the voice of the usually taciturn Commander greeted Seifer.
"I already talked to them," Squall said, his back turned to Seifer.
Looking in the brunet's direction, Seifer noticed the mobile held against the younger man's ear. Raising an eyebrow in question, Seifer walked closer, the brunet still not noticing his presence.
"Just you," Squall said softly and Seifer stopped dead in his tracks. Who the hell is he talking to?
For a moment Squall was silent, listening to the person on the other end of the line. He was obviously enjoying what the other person was saying because a small smile appeared on his lips. Stumped by witnessing this side to his one time rival, Seifer stood transfixed.
"We can do that," the brunet said, smile growing. "But I want some time alone with you as well."
Feeling his body tensing involuntarily at the words, Seifer blamed his building annoyance on jealousy. Pretty boy had someone close to him. It somehow seemed unfair that the socially awkward brunet had someone he felt that comfortable with when Seifer didn't. Deciding to make his presence know and interrupt the little tete-a-tete, the blond walked briskly past the brunet, making his way to the kitchen.
Sensing the blond's presence, Squall tensed visibly and his expression changed into one of bitterness. Voice noticeably cooler, the brunet continued his conversation. "I need to go. I'll see you the 20th."
Hearing the mobile being shut closed, Seifer proceeded to make himself a bowl of cereal.
"Where's my necklace?" frosty words inquired.
"Upstairs," the blond replied nonchalantly.
As determined footsteps faded up the stairs, Seifer gritted his teeth. He'd woken up well rested and somewhat eager. The spar had felt welcome and he had looked forward to playing with Hyperion. But it had taken less than a couple of minutes for the brunet to completely sour his mood. How the fuck does he do that?
When the brunet reentered the room, Seifer's eyes fell on the silver lining Squall's neck. With it, it seemed Squall's eyes had grown impossibly colder, his face stern and pose forbidding.
"You ready?" Squall asked without looking at the blond.
Making a noise of assent, Seifer set off from the kitchen, leaving his half finished bowl of cereal behind. Grabbing a trench coat the blond headed upstairs to fetch his weapon.
Walking next to each other, the two men made their way through the forest. Fresh dew still covered leaves on the ground as the sun worked its way up higher in the sky. It was cold out, still early in the morning. Apart from leaves being crushed beneath heavy boots, no noise was heard, the two fighters lost in separate worlds.
The brunet seemed to be leading the two, the blond not hesitating to follow. This was Squall's part of the deal and Seifer would live up to his part of the bargain.
Spotting the calm lake in the distance, the blond wasn't the least bit surprised. It was a good place for a spar. They would have ample space and not have to worry about getting a blade stuck in a tree trunk. Inhaling deeply, Seifer grabbed Hyperion's hilt and shifted the blade out of its holster. The weight felt good in his hands. Distancing himself from Squall, the blond started a warm up routine. He practiced by the lake regularly so fell into his usual moves with skillful ease.
Out of the corners of his eyes, Seifer spotted the brunet lost in thought, looking out over the lake. Abruptly, the younger man turned to face him.
"No magic," the brunet stated.
"Sure," Seifer agreed.
"Usual terms," Squall said, specifying the rules of the spar. It would end when one of them passed out, admitted defeat or at first blood.
The blond nodded and moved into his usual fighting pose.
"Warm ups first," the brunet stated as he too adopted his usual stance.
Circling each other, sizing each other up, the two men concentrated solely on the movements of the other. Each little twitch or slight motion of the other registered as they prepared themselves.
Jumping forward with feline grace, the brunet swung his gunblade at the blond. Easily avoiding the jab Seifer grinned before swinging his own blade low towards Squall's legs. Watching the brunet dodge his attack, Seifer spun around in the air, lifting his blade before bringing it down towards Squall's body on instinct. A loud metallic clang sounded as the two blades met, locked in a cross over Squall's head.
Knowing he didn't possess the strength to push the blades up and away from his face in this position, Squall swiftly distanced himself. The smirk on Seifer's face grew wider and bolder.
Eyeing up the blond, Squall felt invigorated. Clearly the blond hadn't let his skills slide. Setting off into a sprint, the smaller man took three consecutive blows at the blond, Hyperion meeting Lion Heart angrily each time.
Pleased with how his defensive moves came so natural to him, Seifer remembered how good it felt to let himself go, fighting the brunet on pure instinct. With the lion there was no time to think, only time to act.
Sensing the end to the brunet's combo, the blond thrust forward, the force behind his strike causing Squall to twist his hand as Lion Heart was almost forced out of his tight grip. Backing away, slightly shocked, the brunet narrowed his eyes as Seifer wagged his eyebrow, the blond obviously pleased with himself.
"Enough of a warm up?" Seifer asked, teasing.
Breathing heavily the brunet nodded and Seifer wondered when he had last felt this good. 'Last night' his mind supplied flawlessly, making the blond chuckle inwardly.
Tightening his grip on Lion Heart, Squall focused all his energy on Seifer, eyes darting from the blond's eyes to his hands, blade, feet, all the while trying to sense any movement or any indication of an attack. Reluctantly acknowledging that the blond wanted him to begin the fight, Squall cut through the air testily, weighing the blade in his hands. There was a slight breeze, but not anything he had to consider when dealing his blows. Taking quick steps in Seifer's direction, the brunet started his deadly dance.
When the first blow landed, Seifer had to put all his strength behind his blocking maneuver to hold Lion Heart back. The tremendous strength behind the smaller man's strikes always amazed him. How could such lean muscles carry out moves with such great force?
As the blades once again parted, Seifer started a series of assaults that drove the brunet backwards, brows wound tightly into a frown of concentration. Successfully blocking all of the blond's moves, Squall turned the tables by using his superior speed to sneak in a counterattack. Unable to block the jab, the blond only just managed to sidestep. Smirk faltering, the blond increased the distance between them.
Appraising the retreat of the larger man, Squall dashed forward on light feet, not allowing Seifer to regain his breath. Realizing he wasn't granted the brief respite, Seifer moved forward as well, putting all his strength behind a lower cut. Blades crossed, the two men were locked in a battle of brute force, both holding their ground. Expertly sliding his blade against Seifer's, Squall swirled his blade and brought it out on top, forcing Hyperion towards the pebbled ground. Quickly, Seifer retracted his blade before swinging it down towards Squall's extended arm. Leaping to the side, Squall rolled on the ground before getting back up on his feet.
Underneath black combat boots, the ground began shaking, radiating out from where the SeeD Commander was standing. Gray-blue eyes flashed dangerously as the air around the fighter started swirling. Yellow flames shot from the ground, surrounding the brunet in a cone of fire.
Surprised at the sight before him, Seifer muttered to himself. What the hell?
A spark of bright light shone from Squall's blade, growing into a ball of pure energy, signaling the start of his limit break. Dashing forwards the brunet spotted the look of surprise on the blond's face before swinging Lion Heart back over his head to increase the force of his blow. Slicing diagonally through the air with his blade, Squall made impact. Cutting through Seifer's shirt, blood started dripping onto the ground. Incapable of stopping himself, the brunet jumped into the air, placing one immaculate blow after another at the blond's form. Drawing energy from the air around him, Squall prepared one final attack, once again lacerating the blond.
Returning to his fighting stance the brunet's breaths came quickly and he had to close his eyes to steady himself. Lion Heart was like an elixir; the blade made his whole body sing. No one had made him connect so strongly with it since Ultimecia and euphoria filled him as the sound of his fast pulse drowned out everything else.
Sputtering coughs tore Squall back to the present and he opened his eyes to find his rival hunched over, rivulets of blood seeping through long gashes in his torn shirt.
"Fuck, Leonheart, I thought you said no magic," the blond said crossly.
Amazed at how composed the larger man was despite his injuries, Squall walked over. "It's not magic. It's the blade."
Cursing as he healed himself, Seifer was temporarily distracted, not noticing the somewhat admiring look to the brunet's eyes.
"You didn't take all the blows," the brunet stated, counting the number of slashes on the blond's shirt.
"I took enough," the blond snorted.
Still high from their fight, Squall eyed the blond. "Again?"
"Sure," Seifer replied, not hesitating for even a minute. During the last half an hour he'd rediscovered how much fun it was to play with the lion. "If you show me that attack in slow motion," he said, discarding his ruined shirt.
Curious gray-blue eyes studied the blond before Squall distanced himself, getting into the pose that signaled the start of his limit break. Slowly angling the blade into the various positions that made up the move, Squall was surprised at how natural each move came to him even when he focused on it so intently.
"How do you gain enough strength behind each attack?" Seifer asked, awed by the sequence of moves. Maybe at the speed Leonhart had just done it he could do it himself, but the speed the brunet had used during their spar had been baffling. "The speed..."
Slightly hesitant, the brunet explained. "It comes from the blade. Some of the materials used to forge it can harness the energy around the person wielding it." Pausing, the younger man looked at where the tip of Lion Heart met pebbled ground. "There has to be a strong connection between the wielder and blade for it to work."
"Let me hold it." Seifer said, walking closer and holding out his hand.
"No," the brunet replied harshly, eyes cold.
Somewhat annoyed, the blond retracted his hand. "Are there other blades like it?"
"Not that I know of," Squall replied. "I've seen blueprints for a couple of others like Lion Heart, but none that have been forged."
"It's one of the legendary ones?" Seifer asked, recognizing the name.
Squall just nodded in reply.
Stroking his chin, the blond's green eyes were lost in wonder. "I've never seen one before. Only read about them." Walking over to look at the blade closer up, the blond squatted down next to it. "New or original?"
"New," the brunet stated, somewhat tense at the blond's close proximity to the blade. "According to some records I found at the libraries in Esthar all the originals were lost or destroyed."
"Did you find the blueprint for this baby there?" the blond asked, curious eyes leaving the sharp curves of the blade to look into the harsh gray-blues eyes of the brunet.
"No. I found those in Shumi Village. But only for five out of the rumored eight."
"And you chose Lion Heart," Seifer stated, looking at the ground, lost in thought. To draw on the strong connection he has with Shiva, no doubt. For a moment the blond remained quiet. "Which other ones did you find?"
"Cataclysm, Sunreaver, Wraithbringer and Stoneguard."
"Hn," Seifer huffed and stood up. "Show me the attack sequence again."
Obliging, the brunet slowly worked his way through the series of attacks that completed his limit break. For each move the lithe fighter made, Seifer planned a corresponding block. He knew counterattacks would be out of the question; he'd be lucky if he could even manage the blocks if he remembered the speed of the attacks correctly.
"Can you do it now?" Seifer asked when Squall finished the demonstration. "For real, I mean."
"No," the brunet answered, eyes locked on the ornate blade in his hands. "I have to connect with Lion Heart in battle."
Smirking, the blond walked away, leaving a decent gap between them. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, eyes dancing in mirth as he assumed his sparring position. In spite of himself, Squall couldn't stop the gentle tug at the corners of his mouth, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.
Twenty minutes later, the two men stood next to each other, panting, one curing himself, the other counting cuts on the larger man's torso.
Squall couldn't believe how quickly Seifer had adapted to his limit break. He had managed to pull it off twice in their short fight. During the first time the blond had managed to block all of the brunet's attacks. Unbelievable. Squall remembered the other man being good, better than anyone else, but he was still amazed at the display of sheer talent by the other man. The second time Squall had used his limit break during their fight he'd managed to get in three cuts and had thus ended the spar.
Running his hand over freshly healed skin, the blond cussed. He hated losing. Fucking blade. It didn't seem fair. If it wasn't for that blade Seifer was certain he could have come out the winner.
Pushing the tip of Hyperion into the pebbled lakeside, Seifer sat down next to it, eyes on the calm surface of the dark water. Crouching down next to the blond, Squall lowered himself onto the ground, laying Lion Heart softly by his side. Lost in separate worlds, neither said anything for a while.
Keeping his gaze on the reflection of the sun on the lake, the brunet finally found the words to best convey how he was feeling. "Thank you."
It had been a deal, and Hyne knew he'd paid for the spar. But the extreme euphoria that had filled him earlier was beyond price. He could live on just the memory for a long time.
"Huh?" Seifer said, turning his head to look at the brunet. He wasn't sure if he'd just imagined the words that had come out of Squall's mouth. He didn't really think it was plausible that they even existed in the younger man's vocabulary.
"For the spar. I needed it," the younger man replied strangely at ease.
"Who says we're done yet?" the blond said, voice teasing.
Scrunching his brows in confusion, Squall turned his head to look at the blond.
"How about we grab a couple of the blades from my place and try them out?" Seifer explained, keeping his eyes locked with Squall's. "It's a shame for them to just be collecting dust."
Lowering his gaze, Squall contemplated Seifer's words. The willingness of the blond left him stumped. The friendly atmosphere left him perplexed. The thought of sparring with Seifer again made him excited and eager. It was a genuine smile that graced his lips as he pushed himself up from the cold ground to head back towards the cabin.
Arms weighed down by heavy blades, the two fighters made their way back to the cabin. It was dark, the moon casting the forest in a serene glow. They had spent the entire day fighting, improving their skills and testing their abilities against each other. When they had both been working with unfamiliar blades, they had tied a couple of times but also both come out victorious. Seifer had been extremely pleased when he had finally beaten the brunet, gloating profusely despite how many times the brunet had defeated him that same day.
Entering the house, the two men put the many gunblades down on the table. The brunet's touch lingered on one of them, a minimalistic blade forged from a black material that almost seemed to absorb the light surrounding it. Seifer's eyes lingered on the connection, having his suspicion of the brunet's favoritism confirmed.
"I got that in Lunear," the blond spoke.
Squall was confused. He couldn't understand how the blond had afforded this place, these blades, or how he had seemingly been around the world and yet stayed undetected. "How?" Squall finally asked, eyes not leaving the blade.
Sensing the depth of the question, Seifer decided not to answer. Raking his fingers through his hair, he walked off to get cleaning equipment.
The two men cleaned the blades in silence, returning them one by one to their respective positions on the wall. As they were finishing up, Seifer thought back to what had happened that morning. The anger he had felt then was completely gone. In fact the thought of Squall leaving left him with a peculiar feeling of unease.
"You can stay the night," the blond stated without looking at Squall. "The couch isn't going anywhere."
Looking at Seifer, Squall tried to read the other man. The offer had been unexpected. The blond had remained uncharacteristically civil the whole day and Squall was expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Nodding at the blond's offer, Squall hoped he wouldn't come to regret his decision.
"Can I use your shower?" Squall asked.
"Sure," the blond replied, eyes tracing the younger man's body before he could stop himself.
Raising an eyebrow at the weird look Seifer was giving him, Squall headed for the stairs.
It was unsettling walking through Seifer's bedroom. The last couple of days seemed extremely surreal, almost dreamlike. Or nightmarish. Squall still wouldn't allow himself to think about what had happened. Instead he had stored away all feelings and thoughts to be dealt with at another time. He'd decided to seek Quistis' advice and had already arranged to see her just little over a week away. It had made dealing with the present much more comfortable; no thoughts distracting him from the present.
Enjoying the cool trickle of water against his skin, Squall cleaned himself, removing the grime from the day's fights. He had minor cuts that needed cleaning as well, still keeping to his promise of not curing himself. Finding a first aid kit, Squall dressed his wounds and got ready to go back downstairs.
Spotting the blond sitting in an armchair staring off into the bright flames, Squall flopped down on the couch. In silence they both enjoyed the warmth radiating from the fireplace. It was a while before the quiet was broken.
"Why did you leave?" Squall asked, unable to tear his thoughts away from that one train of though. His tone wasn't accusing, merely curious.
Staring off into space, Seifer pondered his reply.
"The trial," he finally replied.
Somewhat annoyed at the answer Squall narrowed his eyes.
"Being locked up, not knowing if I'd be sentenced to years in confinement," the blond continued, his voice edging on bitterness.
"Raijin and Fujin were acquitted," Squall interjected, remembering how quickly their trials had been resolved.
"They followed orders," Seifer explained, just as much to himself as to the brunet.
"They were brainwashed. So were you."
"Is that what you believe?" Seifer asked.
Squall's behavior was starting to make more sense to him. It had confused Seifer that the brunet hadn't wanted revenge. He truly hadn't considered the other man to have such strong faith in him.
"You wouldn't have done those things," came the quiet reply.
Feeling guilty for the first time since shortly after the war, Seifer shifted uneasily in his chair. What he had done out of repressed anger at his past was inexcusable. None of what had happened during the war had been his fault, he knew that. But he couldn't blame his recent behavior on mind control. Feeling his stomach twist, the blond wondered morbidly if he had subconsciously derived any pleasure from the acts the Sorceress had forced him to perform.
Sensing the blond's growing distress, Squall had an inexplicable urge to reassure him. Unfamiliar with such notions and how to act on them, the brunet remained silent. He could no longer remain angry at the blond for leaving. He hadn't considered the impact of the unknown, just assumed the blond would have gone through an easy trial like Raijin and Fujin, or at least only had to deal with a short sentence. However short though, Squall could all too vividly image how he himself would deal with being locked up. Especially if he didn't know how long he'd be locked up for. It would kill him. He couldn't believe how blind he'd been; that he hadn't thought it through properly from Seifer's perspective; that he'd been too blinded by his own need.
Letting his eyes land on the blond, the brunet was suddenly filled with curiosity. "How long have you been here?"
"Four or five months."
"How can you afford it?" Squall asked in disbelief. Seifer started laughing quietly, amused at the brunet's expression.
"Garden takes quite the commission," the blond replied, amusement dying down as he thought about his one time home.
Pausing in contemplation, the brunet was resigned to the truth behind the other man's words.
Basking in the warmth surrounding him whilst feeling the soft cushions hugging him, Squall was overcome with tiredness. Sinking into the couch, he turned to lie down. Succumbing to sleep, gray-blue eyes closed, shutting out the world for the night.
Watching the brunet drift off, the blond felt at ease. Last time he had spoken with Squall like this had been during their SeeD exam in Dollet. Even though they had always been rivals there had also always been a strange unspoken understanding between them and a level of friendship that went deeper than the rivalry. In spite of his initial reaction, Seifer found that he had missed the younger man. Letting his eyes travel the smaller man's form, he felt something else now too.
Yawning, the blond got up and cast one last glance at the relaxed fighter lying on the couch. Maybe he could persuade the Commander to stay for another day of sparring.
When green eyes scanned the living room the following morning it was with annoyance and an empty feeling in his stomach. There was no trace of the brunet. It was like he had never been there. The blanket on the couch was folded neatly, the fire extinguished and the blue glow of Lion Heart absent. Seifer was alone again.
Moving to the kitchen, Seifer decided he didn't care, and he was certain the painful tugs in his chest would disappear soon enough. Opening the fridge he grabbed the milk and got out a bowl. It wasn't till he was halfway through pouring a cup of coffe that Seifer spotted the note lying on the kitchen counter.
Fingering the piece of paper, Seifer wasn't sure he wanted to read it. Cursing whilst rubbing his forehead with tired hands, the blond willed himself not to think. Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, the blond sat down at the counter and stared into nothingness. He wasn't unhappy that the other man had left and he definitely wouldn't miss him.
Reading the note, the tenseness that had consumed the blond since he'd come down to find the house empty, slowly dissipated.
'709-3645-763
When you have time, let me know.
S.'
Fully dressed, Squall sat waiting in the dark. It wasn't light out yet, still hours till sunrise. He hadn't slept well. Too many thoughts, too much noise in his head. And he was impatient. Soon, he would get what he'd come for. He could only hope that Seifer hadn't let his skills as a gunblader deteriorate. That would be a major disappointment. Frowning at the thought, Squall idly touched his chest, grasping for his griever pendant. He hadn't thought much of his missing necklace till now, other thoughts more prominent in his mind. Though they were more prominent, he kept pushing them aside. He didn't want to deal with their meanings. He didn't want to dwell on why he had reacted the way he had when Seifer had touched him or why Seifer had chosen the payment he had. Or even why he felt envy when he walked around in this house. Those thoughts simply didn't matter. To pay attention to them would only lead to him being mentally unprepared for the upcoming fight. He needed his mind calm and collected, void of disruptions. He could deal with those thoughts later. Maybe if he planned how and when to deal with them they would leave him alone for now. Sighing, the brunet rubbed tired fingers against his forehead, kneading the tense muscles.
Descending the stairs, the voice of the usually taciturn Commander greeted Seifer.
"I already talked to them," Squall said, his back turned to Seifer.
Looking in the brunet's direction, Seifer noticed the mobile held against the younger man's ear. Raising an eyebrow in question, Seifer walked closer, the brunet still not noticing his presence.
"Just you," Squall said softly and Seifer stopped dead in his tracks. Who the hell is he talking to?
For a moment Squall was silent, listening to the person on the other end of the line. He was obviously enjoying what the other person was saying because a small smile appeared on his lips. Stumped by witnessing this side to his one time rival, Seifer stood transfixed.
"We can do that," the brunet said, smile growing. "But I want some time alone with you as well."
Feeling his body tensing involuntarily at the words, Seifer blamed his building annoyance on jealousy. Pretty boy had someone close to him. It somehow seemed unfair that the socially awkward brunet had someone he felt that comfortable with when Seifer didn't. Deciding to make his presence know and interrupt the little tete-a-tete, the blond walked briskly past the brunet, making his way to the kitchen.
Sensing the blond's presence, Squall tensed visibly and his expression changed into one of bitterness. Voice noticeably cooler, the brunet continued his conversation. "I need to go. I'll see you the 20th."
Hearing the mobile being shut closed, Seifer proceeded to make himself a bowl of cereal.
"Where's my necklace?" frosty words inquired.
"Upstairs," the blond replied nonchalantly.
As determined footsteps faded up the stairs, Seifer gritted his teeth. He'd woken up well rested and somewhat eager. The spar had felt welcome and he had looked forward to playing with Hyperion. But it had taken less than a couple of minutes for the brunet to completely sour his mood. How the fuck does he do that?
When the brunet reentered the room, Seifer's eyes fell on the silver lining Squall's neck. With it, it seemed Squall's eyes had grown impossibly colder, his face stern and pose forbidding.
"You ready?" Squall asked without looking at the blond.
Making a noise of assent, Seifer set off from the kitchen, leaving his half finished bowl of cereal behind. Grabbing a trench coat the blond headed upstairs to fetch his weapon.
Walking next to each other, the two men made their way through the forest. Fresh dew still covered leaves on the ground as the sun worked its way up higher in the sky. It was cold out, still early in the morning. Apart from leaves being crushed beneath heavy boots, no noise was heard, the two fighters lost in separate worlds.
The brunet seemed to be leading the two, the blond not hesitating to follow. This was Squall's part of the deal and Seifer would live up to his part of the bargain.
Spotting the calm lake in the distance, the blond wasn't the least bit surprised. It was a good place for a spar. They would have ample space and not have to worry about getting a blade stuck in a tree trunk. Inhaling deeply, Seifer grabbed Hyperion's hilt and shifted the blade out of its holster. The weight felt good in his hands. Distancing himself from Squall, the blond started a warm up routine. He practiced by the lake regularly so fell into his usual moves with skillful ease.
Out of the corners of his eyes, Seifer spotted the brunet lost in thought, looking out over the lake. Abruptly, the younger man turned to face him.
"No magic," the brunet stated.
"Sure," Seifer agreed.
"Usual terms," Squall said, specifying the rules of the spar. It would end when one of them passed out, admitted defeat or at first blood.
The blond nodded and moved into his usual fighting pose.
"Warm ups first," the brunet stated as he too adopted his usual stance.
Circling each other, sizing each other up, the two men concentrated solely on the movements of the other. Each little twitch or slight motion of the other registered as they prepared themselves.
Jumping forward with feline grace, the brunet swung his gunblade at the blond. Easily avoiding the jab Seifer grinned before swinging his own blade low towards Squall's legs. Watching the brunet dodge his attack, Seifer spun around in the air, lifting his blade before bringing it down towards Squall's body on instinct. A loud metallic clang sounded as the two blades met, locked in a cross over Squall's head.
Knowing he didn't possess the strength to push the blades up and away from his face in this position, Squall swiftly distanced himself. The smirk on Seifer's face grew wider and bolder.
Eyeing up the blond, Squall felt invigorated. Clearly the blond hadn't let his skills slide. Setting off into a sprint, the smaller man took three consecutive blows at the blond, Hyperion meeting Lion Heart angrily each time.
Pleased with how his defensive moves came so natural to him, Seifer remembered how good it felt to let himself go, fighting the brunet on pure instinct. With the lion there was no time to think, only time to act.
Sensing the end to the brunet's combo, the blond thrust forward, the force behind his strike causing Squall to twist his hand as Lion Heart was almost forced out of his tight grip. Backing away, slightly shocked, the brunet narrowed his eyes as Seifer wagged his eyebrow, the blond obviously pleased with himself.
"Enough of a warm up?" Seifer asked, teasing.
Breathing heavily the brunet nodded and Seifer wondered when he had last felt this good. 'Last night' his mind supplied flawlessly, making the blond chuckle inwardly.
Tightening his grip on Lion Heart, Squall focused all his energy on Seifer, eyes darting from the blond's eyes to his hands, blade, feet, all the while trying to sense any movement or any indication of an attack. Reluctantly acknowledging that the blond wanted him to begin the fight, Squall cut through the air testily, weighing the blade in his hands. There was a slight breeze, but not anything he had to consider when dealing his blows. Taking quick steps in Seifer's direction, the brunet started his deadly dance.
When the first blow landed, Seifer had to put all his strength behind his blocking maneuver to hold Lion Heart back. The tremendous strength behind the smaller man's strikes always amazed him. How could such lean muscles carry out moves with such great force?
As the blades once again parted, Seifer started a series of assaults that drove the brunet backwards, brows wound tightly into a frown of concentration. Successfully blocking all of the blond's moves, Squall turned the tables by using his superior speed to sneak in a counterattack. Unable to block the jab, the blond only just managed to sidestep. Smirk faltering, the blond increased the distance between them.
Appraising the retreat of the larger man, Squall dashed forward on light feet, not allowing Seifer to regain his breath. Realizing he wasn't granted the brief respite, Seifer moved forward as well, putting all his strength behind a lower cut. Blades crossed, the two men were locked in a battle of brute force, both holding their ground. Expertly sliding his blade against Seifer's, Squall swirled his blade and brought it out on top, forcing Hyperion towards the pebbled ground. Quickly, Seifer retracted his blade before swinging it down towards Squall's extended arm. Leaping to the side, Squall rolled on the ground before getting back up on his feet.
Underneath black combat boots, the ground began shaking, radiating out from where the SeeD Commander was standing. Gray-blue eyes flashed dangerously as the air around the fighter started swirling. Yellow flames shot from the ground, surrounding the brunet in a cone of fire.
Surprised at the sight before him, Seifer muttered to himself. What the hell?
A spark of bright light shone from Squall's blade, growing into a ball of pure energy, signaling the start of his limit break. Dashing forwards the brunet spotted the look of surprise on the blond's face before swinging Lion Heart back over his head to increase the force of his blow. Slicing diagonally through the air with his blade, Squall made impact. Cutting through Seifer's shirt, blood started dripping onto the ground. Incapable of stopping himself, the brunet jumped into the air, placing one immaculate blow after another at the blond's form. Drawing energy from the air around him, Squall prepared one final attack, once again lacerating the blond.
Returning to his fighting stance the brunet's breaths came quickly and he had to close his eyes to steady himself. Lion Heart was like an elixir; the blade made his whole body sing. No one had made him connect so strongly with it since Ultimecia and euphoria filled him as the sound of his fast pulse drowned out everything else.
Sputtering coughs tore Squall back to the present and he opened his eyes to find his rival hunched over, rivulets of blood seeping through long gashes in his torn shirt.
"Fuck, Leonheart, I thought you said no magic," the blond said crossly.
Amazed at how composed the larger man was despite his injuries, Squall walked over. "It's not magic. It's the blade."
Cursing as he healed himself, Seifer was temporarily distracted, not noticing the somewhat admiring look to the brunet's eyes.
"You didn't take all the blows," the brunet stated, counting the number of slashes on the blond's shirt.
"I took enough," the blond snorted.
Still high from their fight, Squall eyed the blond. "Again?"
"Sure," Seifer replied, not hesitating for even a minute. During the last half an hour he'd rediscovered how much fun it was to play with the lion. "If you show me that attack in slow motion," he said, discarding his ruined shirt.
Curious gray-blue eyes studied the blond before Squall distanced himself, getting into the pose that signaled the start of his limit break. Slowly angling the blade into the various positions that made up the move, Squall was surprised at how natural each move came to him even when he focused on it so intently.
"How do you gain enough strength behind each attack?" Seifer asked, awed by the sequence of moves. Maybe at the speed Leonhart had just done it he could do it himself, but the speed the brunet had used during their spar had been baffling. "The speed..."
Slightly hesitant, the brunet explained. "It comes from the blade. Some of the materials used to forge it can harness the energy around the person wielding it." Pausing, the younger man looked at where the tip of Lion Heart met pebbled ground. "There has to be a strong connection between the wielder and blade for it to work."
"Let me hold it." Seifer said, walking closer and holding out his hand.
"No," the brunet replied harshly, eyes cold.
Somewhat annoyed, the blond retracted his hand. "Are there other blades like it?"
"Not that I know of," Squall replied. "I've seen blueprints for a couple of others like Lion Heart, but none that have been forged."
"It's one of the legendary ones?" Seifer asked, recognizing the name.
Squall just nodded in reply.
Stroking his chin, the blond's green eyes were lost in wonder. "I've never seen one before. Only read about them." Walking over to look at the blade closer up, the blond squatted down next to it. "New or original?"
"New," the brunet stated, somewhat tense at the blond's close proximity to the blade. "According to some records I found at the libraries in Esthar all the originals were lost or destroyed."
"Did you find the blueprint for this baby there?" the blond asked, curious eyes leaving the sharp curves of the blade to look into the harsh gray-blues eyes of the brunet.
"No. I found those in Shumi Village. But only for five out of the rumored eight."
"And you chose Lion Heart," Seifer stated, looking at the ground, lost in thought. To draw on the strong connection he has with Shiva, no doubt. For a moment the blond remained quiet. "Which other ones did you find?"
"Cataclysm, Sunreaver, Wraithbringer and Stoneguard."
"Hn," Seifer huffed and stood up. "Show me the attack sequence again."
Obliging, the brunet slowly worked his way through the series of attacks that completed his limit break. For each move the lithe fighter made, Seifer planned a corresponding block. He knew counterattacks would be out of the question; he'd be lucky if he could even manage the blocks if he remembered the speed of the attacks correctly.
"Can you do it now?" Seifer asked when Squall finished the demonstration. "For real, I mean."
"No," the brunet answered, eyes locked on the ornate blade in his hands. "I have to connect with Lion Heart in battle."
Smirking, the blond walked away, leaving a decent gap between them. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, eyes dancing in mirth as he assumed his sparring position. In spite of himself, Squall couldn't stop the gentle tug at the corners of his mouth, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.
Twenty minutes later, the two men stood next to each other, panting, one curing himself, the other counting cuts on the larger man's torso.
Squall couldn't believe how quickly Seifer had adapted to his limit break. He had managed to pull it off twice in their short fight. During the first time the blond had managed to block all of the brunet's attacks. Unbelievable. Squall remembered the other man being good, better than anyone else, but he was still amazed at the display of sheer talent by the other man. The second time Squall had used his limit break during their fight he'd managed to get in three cuts and had thus ended the spar.
Running his hand over freshly healed skin, the blond cussed. He hated losing. Fucking blade. It didn't seem fair. If it wasn't for that blade Seifer was certain he could have come out the winner.
Pushing the tip of Hyperion into the pebbled lakeside, Seifer sat down next to it, eyes on the calm surface of the dark water. Crouching down next to the blond, Squall lowered himself onto the ground, laying Lion Heart softly by his side. Lost in separate worlds, neither said anything for a while.
Keeping his gaze on the reflection of the sun on the lake, the brunet finally found the words to best convey how he was feeling. "Thank you."
It had been a deal, and Hyne knew he'd paid for the spar. But the extreme euphoria that had filled him earlier was beyond price. He could live on just the memory for a long time.
"Huh?" Seifer said, turning his head to look at the brunet. He wasn't sure if he'd just imagined the words that had come out of Squall's mouth. He didn't really think it was plausible that they even existed in the younger man's vocabulary.
"For the spar. I needed it," the younger man replied strangely at ease.
"Who says we're done yet?" the blond said, voice teasing.
Scrunching his brows in confusion, Squall turned his head to look at the blond.
"How about we grab a couple of the blades from my place and try them out?" Seifer explained, keeping his eyes locked with Squall's. "It's a shame for them to just be collecting dust."
Lowering his gaze, Squall contemplated Seifer's words. The willingness of the blond left him stumped. The friendly atmosphere left him perplexed. The thought of sparring with Seifer again made him excited and eager. It was a genuine smile that graced his lips as he pushed himself up from the cold ground to head back towards the cabin.
Arms weighed down by heavy blades, the two fighters made their way back to the cabin. It was dark, the moon casting the forest in a serene glow. They had spent the entire day fighting, improving their skills and testing their abilities against each other. When they had both been working with unfamiliar blades, they had tied a couple of times but also both come out victorious. Seifer had been extremely pleased when he had finally beaten the brunet, gloating profusely despite how many times the brunet had defeated him that same day.
Entering the house, the two men put the many gunblades down on the table. The brunet's touch lingered on one of them, a minimalistic blade forged from a black material that almost seemed to absorb the light surrounding it. Seifer's eyes lingered on the connection, having his suspicion of the brunet's favoritism confirmed.
"I got that in Lunear," the blond spoke.
Squall was confused. He couldn't understand how the blond had afforded this place, these blades, or how he had seemingly been around the world and yet stayed undetected. "How?" Squall finally asked, eyes not leaving the blade.
Sensing the depth of the question, Seifer decided not to answer. Raking his fingers through his hair, he walked off to get cleaning equipment.
The two men cleaned the blades in silence, returning them one by one to their respective positions on the wall. As they were finishing up, Seifer thought back to what had happened that morning. The anger he had felt then was completely gone. In fact the thought of Squall leaving left him with a peculiar feeling of unease.
"You can stay the night," the blond stated without looking at Squall. "The couch isn't going anywhere."
Looking at Seifer, Squall tried to read the other man. The offer had been unexpected. The blond had remained uncharacteristically civil the whole day and Squall was expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Nodding at the blond's offer, Squall hoped he wouldn't come to regret his decision.
"Can I use your shower?" Squall asked.
"Sure," the blond replied, eyes tracing the younger man's body before he could stop himself.
Raising an eyebrow at the weird look Seifer was giving him, Squall headed for the stairs.
It was unsettling walking through Seifer's bedroom. The last couple of days seemed extremely surreal, almost dreamlike. Or nightmarish. Squall still wouldn't allow himself to think about what had happened. Instead he had stored away all feelings and thoughts to be dealt with at another time. He'd decided to seek Quistis' advice and had already arranged to see her just little over a week away. It had made dealing with the present much more comfortable; no thoughts distracting him from the present.
Enjoying the cool trickle of water against his skin, Squall cleaned himself, removing the grime from the day's fights. He had minor cuts that needed cleaning as well, still keeping to his promise of not curing himself. Finding a first aid kit, Squall dressed his wounds and got ready to go back downstairs.
Spotting the blond sitting in an armchair staring off into the bright flames, Squall flopped down on the couch. In silence they both enjoyed the warmth radiating from the fireplace. It was a while before the quiet was broken.
"Why did you leave?" Squall asked, unable to tear his thoughts away from that one train of though. His tone wasn't accusing, merely curious.
Staring off into space, Seifer pondered his reply.
"The trial," he finally replied.
Somewhat annoyed at the answer Squall narrowed his eyes.
"Being locked up, not knowing if I'd be sentenced to years in confinement," the blond continued, his voice edging on bitterness.
"Raijin and Fujin were acquitted," Squall interjected, remembering how quickly their trials had been resolved.
"They followed orders," Seifer explained, just as much to himself as to the brunet.
"They were brainwashed. So were you."
"Is that what you believe?" Seifer asked.
Squall's behavior was starting to make more sense to him. It had confused Seifer that the brunet hadn't wanted revenge. He truly hadn't considered the other man to have such strong faith in him.
"You wouldn't have done those things," came the quiet reply.
Feeling guilty for the first time since shortly after the war, Seifer shifted uneasily in his chair. What he had done out of repressed anger at his past was inexcusable. None of what had happened during the war had been his fault, he knew that. But he couldn't blame his recent behavior on mind control. Feeling his stomach twist, the blond wondered morbidly if he had subconsciously derived any pleasure from the acts the Sorceress had forced him to perform.
Sensing the blond's growing distress, Squall had an inexplicable urge to reassure him. Unfamiliar with such notions and how to act on them, the brunet remained silent. He could no longer remain angry at the blond for leaving. He hadn't considered the impact of the unknown, just assumed the blond would have gone through an easy trial like Raijin and Fujin, or at least only had to deal with a short sentence. However short though, Squall could all too vividly image how he himself would deal with being locked up. Especially if he didn't know how long he'd be locked up for. It would kill him. He couldn't believe how blind he'd been; that he hadn't thought it through properly from Seifer's perspective; that he'd been too blinded by his own need.
Letting his eyes land on the blond, the brunet was suddenly filled with curiosity. "How long have you been here?"
"Four or five months."
"How can you afford it?" Squall asked in disbelief. Seifer started laughing quietly, amused at the brunet's expression.
"Garden takes quite the commission," the blond replied, amusement dying down as he thought about his one time home.
Pausing in contemplation, the brunet was resigned to the truth behind the other man's words.
Basking in the warmth surrounding him whilst feeling the soft cushions hugging him, Squall was overcome with tiredness. Sinking into the couch, he turned to lie down. Succumbing to sleep, gray-blue eyes closed, shutting out the world for the night.
Watching the brunet drift off, the blond felt at ease. Last time he had spoken with Squall like this had been during their SeeD exam in Dollet. Even though they had always been rivals there had also always been a strange unspoken understanding between them and a level of friendship that went deeper than the rivalry. In spite of his initial reaction, Seifer found that he had missed the younger man. Letting his eyes travel the smaller man's form, he felt something else now too.
Yawning, the blond got up and cast one last glance at the relaxed fighter lying on the couch. Maybe he could persuade the Commander to stay for another day of sparring.
When green eyes scanned the living room the following morning it was with annoyance and an empty feeling in his stomach. There was no trace of the brunet. It was like he had never been there. The blanket on the couch was folded neatly, the fire extinguished and the blue glow of Lion Heart absent. Seifer was alone again.
Moving to the kitchen, Seifer decided he didn't care, and he was certain the painful tugs in his chest would disappear soon enough. Opening the fridge he grabbed the milk and got out a bowl. It wasn't till he was halfway through pouring a cup of coffe that Seifer spotted the note lying on the kitchen counter.
Fingering the piece of paper, Seifer wasn't sure he wanted to read it. Cursing whilst rubbing his forehead with tired hands, the blond willed himself not to think. Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, the blond sat down at the counter and stared into nothingness. He wasn't unhappy that the other man had left and he definitely wouldn't miss him.
Reading the note, the tenseness that had consumed the blond since he'd come down to find the house empty, slowly dissipated.
'709-3645-763
When you have time, let me know.
S.'