The light was blinding.

Wincing, he blinked in an attempt to shield his eyes long enough for them to adjust. As he did so, his other senses began to climb towards awareness. He was lying on his back in a bed, in his day-clothes no less. And his head hurt. He frowned. What had happened last night? He couldn’t remember.

Oh, yes.

He’d been training.

“How are you feeling?”

The light was fading, or his eyes were adjusting. He could make out an open window, with curtains fluttering lazily in the breeze, and above that a ceiling. Groaning, he moved a hand to his forehead.

“Ugh...” he said. “My head...”

“No kidding. I told you you should have gone to the infirmary.”

“Ugh...” he repeated, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, so that the glare from the sunlight outside no longer assaulted his eyes. “Who left that window open?” he asked.

“You did,” the voice replied. “Remember?”

He thought for a moment. There was a bridge, and a pair of plants with tentacles lashing out at him, then nothing. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I seriously don’t.”

“Yeah, you looked pretty out of it when you came back here. It was probably the poison, or the sleeping gas. How long were you fighting in there, anyway?”

“I don’t remember.” He frowned, looking to the source of the voice. A boy dressed in green casual clothes stood in the doorway to his room, watching him. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” he asked.

“Waking you up. You’re gonna miss class!”

“Eh?” He blinked. “What time is it?”

“Late. Come on, hurry up! You wanna be late for the field exam?”

The field exam. Yes, someone had said something about that yesterday. That’s why he had gone to the Training Center; to work in some last-minute combat practice. Which wouldn’t do him much good if he showed up late for class on the day of the exam. He quickly got up and, straightening his clothes, hurried out of the room.

“Good luck,” called the other boy as he shot past, left the dorm and began to hurry down the hallway. “Make me proud.”

It looked like any other day at Balamb Garden; students without first periods were out chatting on the lawns and in the hallways, in numbers that might make a less spacious environment seem crowded. The Garden’s wide hallways and large open spaces, however, seemed perfectly designed for the nature of its student body. The downside of such a friendly environment was that he found it rather difficult to maintain his sense of urgency, and his running pace unconsciously slackened to a leisurely jog, then a purposeful walk. As he came near the exit to the main hall, he overheard something about “Squall,” and unconsciously started to listen closer.

“I heard Seifer used a GF on him!”

“No, that’s not what happened! It was an accident with his gunblade!”

“Well, whatever it was, Seifer’s gotta be in BIG trouble!”

“It was an accident! They won’t do anything!”

“Still, they say that Squall might not take the field exam!”

“Yeah; I don’t think he’s even woke up yet! If he doesn’t soon, he’ll miss first period!”

“Has he even been to the Fire Cavern? I heard he was supposed to go this morning!”

“Who told you that?”

He walked on, frowning. As he made his way along the main hall, the Garden bells began to ring, warning students that class was about to begin. He quickened his pace forwards the elevator.

As he approached the stairs to the lift, he noticed a young woman coming in from the main entrance. She was probably in her early twenties, with short brown hair and a sleeveless, casual civilian dress with a green sash hung about her arms. She looked rather out of place in the Garden, and her expression showed that she knew it.

“Can I help you?” he asked, as she came near him.

She gave him a look as if she had only just seen him. “Oh! Well...yes, I think. Do you know where Cid would be?”

“Cid?” he asked. “You mean the Headmaster?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Of course; the Headmaster. I’m sorry.”

“...It’s okay,” he said, not sure yet what to make of the conversation. “Well, his office is on the 3F, up that elevator. But you need special permission to go in.”

“I see. Thank you.” She turned to head for the elevator, but paused. “Oh! I’m sorry; what’s your name?”

“Nida,” he replied.

She smiled. “Nice to meet you.” And she turned and headed off for the elevator.

Nida frowned, then shrugged and followed her towards the elevator.

-

Students were already beginning to trickle into the classroom when she got the call. She had been standing by the doorway, greeting them as she always did; but today she couldn’t help but let her distraction show through.

The students hadn’t noticed, however — they had their own preoccupations to deal with.

“Good morning, Instructor!” said one, fidgeting madly. “Um...everyone’s been talking about the field exam. Is it really today?”

“...Hm?” It took her a second to associate those words with meaning. A second later, the phone on her desk began to ring, and she nearly made a dive for it. “...I’ll cover that once everyone’s here,” she said instead, weaving around him and toward the desk. “Excuse me; I should take this.”

“Hi, Instructor!” said another student who was just coming in.

“Good morning,” she replied as she was picking up the phone. “Yes?”

“Quistis?” The voice was Dr. Kadowaki’s, which made sense as the call was listed as coming from the Infirmary. “It’s about your student.”

“Is he all right?” Quistis asked, absently aware that she was holding her breath.

“Well, now...” She heard Kadowaki sigh. “His injury’s quite serious. He’s still unconscious. I’m sure he’ll recover, but for the moment...”

Quistis sank into the chair, covering her mouth with her free hand. It took her a moment to reach the point where she trusted herself to speak. “...But he’ll recover completely?”

“Yes, yes...” Kadowaki probably heard through her carefully neutral tone. “Especially with GF, he’ll be fine in a day or so. But I wouldn’t plan to include him in the field exam.”

“...I understand,” said Quistis. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, Quistis.”

Kadowaki hung up; Quistis held onto the phone for a moment longer before doing the same. At around the same time, she caught a new figure walking into the classroom; he was immediately recognizable, even in peripheral vision, as he was wearing a grey trenchcoat with red crosses on the arms in lieu of his student’s uniform. He headed straight for his desk, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Seifer.” She stood, fixing him with a glare. He stopped, but didn’t look at her. “Is there anything you’d like to say about the incident last night?”

Still nothing. His face was set in a harsher version of the glower he used whenever he was in a situation he didn’t like and in too bad a mood to act bored by it all. As usual, she sensed that there was something else, and he was trying hard to keep it back; but she didn’t really feel in the mood to decode this at the moment.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Take your seat.” Seifer did. Quistis checked the rest of the room; and apart from that empty seat towards the back that wasn’t going to be filled today, everyone was there. Kicking herself to get back into routine, she called up the lesson plans on her terminal before realizing that there wasn’t one for today. Sighing again, she looked up at the waiting students, and put on her best Instructor smile.

“Good morning, class,” she said. “Let’s start with today’s schedule.”

-

— S I D E L I N E S —

a FINAL FANTASY VIII fan fiction

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FINAL FANTASY VIII and many related items are the legal property of Square, an organization that has absolutely no idea this author even exists. This story is fictional, unofficial, and created solely for entertainment purposes; if any profit is made through its display and use of aforementioned items, then it is made without the author’s knowledge or consent, and is therefore not the author’s fault. Duplication of this work without the author's permission and especially without giving said author due credit will seriously annoy him. This text applies whether you read it or not. All your base are belong to us.