Near the ocean on the eastern outskirts of Timber, a man sat on the steps of a small shack, watching the evening tide. At first glance he seemed like a simple fisherman, wearing stained blue jeans and a puffy vest lined with pockets full of fishing gear. In his youth, he had fought in more than his fair share of wars. Some, he himself had been responsible for escalating. Now, he avoided conflict whenever possible. For the past 20 years he had done nothing much except travel, owning few possessions, wanting nothing except a meal every day and a passable night's sleep.

But as far as war was concerned, he had not left it behind. He still trained in secret every day, keeping his mind and body sound. He lay low not because he was afraid or ashamed, but because he was waiting for a moment he knew would come. He would have waited his whole life for the signs, for his chance for vengeance.

The man had watched from the shadows as the enemy reinforcements unloaded and marched into the city, but he didn't particularly care about them; he stayed out of their way and they ignored him. But when Rinoa's tornado climbed into the sky, he suddenly stood up, tall and alert. Though the magical storm was far away from his little shack, he knew, from hard earned and perilous experience, exactly where it came from and what it meant. His time for waiting was over.

He went inside his shack – a sparsely furnished, single room home with a kitchenette, small table and chair, and a bed in one corner. Fishing rods and tackle were piled in a bucket by the door. A chest at the end of the bed fit all of his other possessions. All except one, anyway.

The man pulled down a ceiling door to access the attic. He climbed the ladder and retrieved a long case. It looked much like the one Squall had brought to Timber, but instead of a winged lion, this case was adorned with a large silver cross.

The man brought the case to the table and opened it to reveal his gunblade, Hyperion. The dark gray blade was well cared for, sharp and polished, with a magazine-fed 10mm pistol for its handle. As the man took it out of the case and held it up, he could see his own reflection in the blade: his dark blonde, combed back hair, handsome dark eyes, and a scar, cutting from the center of his forehead down his right cheek – a mirror image of Squall's.

The gunblade was the only thing he needed to begin his journey. He took off the fishing vest and threw on his coat – an aging, faded gray trench coat with a red cross embroidered on each arm. He loaded a fresh magazine into his gunblade and pocketed a few extras, closed and stored the case, and stepped back outside.

Seifer Almasy looked once more at the tornado, his eyes narrowed and calculating. He knew his task would take far more than just a lone man with a vendetta. He first needed to call on a few friends.


In the Dollet Dukedom, twilight was casting its glow on the city's placid beaches and boardwalks, the little country a tiny emblem of peace on the war-torn Galbadian continent. Fortunately for its citizens, Dollet had been of little strategic importance to the Galbadian warlords, escaping the horrors of the endless conflict. Now, with news of the upcoming peace talks, the mood in Dollet was hopeful and jovial. Townsfolk spoke excitedly about the end of the war, making plans to take long vacations or reunite with friends and family.

In a small cafe by the marina, Cid Kramer was sitting at a little table on a breezy patio. He smiled as he sipped his small coffee, listening to the happy conversation around him. Despite his humble demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride that the excitement in Dollet was fundamentally because of him. No one dismissed the valiant struggles of the Galbadian Democrats or Timber's resistance, but the word on everyone's lips was SeeD; SeeD, the organization that Cid had founded, were the heroes of the day. They had been the tipping point in the war, their prowess and expertise bringing a swift end to the deadlocked conflict. And now they were famous around the world: keepers of the peace, defenders of the innocent, paragons of morality.

Cid left a few coins on the table for the busboy as he brought his empty cup to the counter. The busboy glanced after him with a bewildered look, not only because the tip was part of the bill but also because Cid had already cleaned what little mess he had made. Cid, of course, was naive to the busboy's confused reaction; the old man paid his bill at the register, his mind reminiscing about SeeD and the Gardens he helped establish.

As he walked toward the open door, he thought about his old students. Xu and Quistis were part of that pivotal first graduating class, the successes of their early missions laying the foundations for SeeD's reputation. And then there was Squall's group, triumphantly accomplishing the critical mission of defeating Ultimecia. After that, SeeD only continued to grow and excel, and Cid was able to hand the reins off to Squall and Xu's capable hands. He could retire, finally spending time with his dear Edea, whom tragedy had kept sundered from him far too long.

Cid stepped out of the cafe onto the cobblestone street, breathing in the crisp ocean air as he looked upon the shore, his eyes gleaming behind his spectacles with self-satisfaction. Every one of his students had been profoundly successful in their endeavors, every one of them delivering in history's most critical moments. None, as far as he could recall, had failed to excel…

His reverie was interrupted as he perceived a man leaning against the wall of the cafe. The man's manner was casual, his legs and arms crossed, one gloved hand brushing away a strand of blonde hair as he smiled teasingly at Cid. Cid felt a little uncomfortable at the man's demeanor and thought to ignore him, but the man continued staring, his mild smirk remaining as if daring Cid to recognize him. Cid concentrated hard, the features of the man slowly registering on his mind: the gray trench coat with long red crosses on each arm, the gunblade at his hip, the scar across his face…

"Seifer?!..."

Seifer's smirk widened to a grin. "It's good to see you too, Headmaster. I was hoping I could talk to you."

Cid stumbled to answer at first, completely gobsmacked. "O-Of course!" he replied. He looked furtively around, checking if anyone nearby might know them. "Let's go further down the boardwalk, shall we?" Seifer let out a quiet sigh, but kept his peace. Cid was clearly nervous about being seen in public with him, but at least he was willing to listen. That could be something.

They strolled in silence down the boardwalk until they were under the arch of a bridge, cloaking the two men in deep shadow. As they were walking, Cid couldn't help but continue to be amazed at Seifer's appearance. It had been 20 years - no, more than that - since he had last laid eyes on him. Not since Seifer had failed his SeeD exam and run off for Timber in a rage. Not since he was captured and seduced by Edea under Ultimecia's power. And yet here he was, but different. More… reserved. The Seifer of old wouldn't have gone a minute without making some kind of boast or taunt. Now, he was quiet, attentive… but expectant. It was resoundingly obvious he was here for a reason.

"Seifer, I'm glad to see you - alive, at the very least," Cid remarked as they stepped onto rough sand under the bridge. "What on earth have you been up to?"

Seifer shrugged. "Stayin' out of trouble, Headmaster."

Cid nodded. "I understand… Edea's been doing the same thing."

Seifer looked sadly at Cid, his eyes watering for a brief moment. "I haven't stopped training, you know…"

Cid chuckled softly. "I assumed so from your physique. Not sure what continued training would do for you though, if you're staying out of trouble as you say."

Seifer swallowed down his shame. All his training had ever been useful for was destruction, screwing up the world for Squall and the others to fix. But now, maybe, he could do something good.

"...I've been preparing, sir. For Ultimecia."

Now it was Cid's turn for pause. He gave Seifer a hard look, trying to discern everything he could about the Seifer in front of him. "I honestly haven't thought about Ultimecia for a while. I've assumed she's too far in the future for us to worry about."

A little vein bulged in Seifer's neck as he forced himself to contain his emotion. "Sir… I believe she's here now."

Cid's serious expression didn't change, but his eyes opened a little more, clouding with fear. After a moment, he took a deep breath, sighing as he looked down. "...What makes you think so?" he asked quietly.

"I was in Timber during the battle. I saw the tornado… sir, I know sorcery, and I know her sorcery even more."

Cid narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Seifer. "Do you know who cast that tornado?"

Seifer nodded slowly. "Yes. I figured that out from the Timber resistance." He stared out from under the bridge, gazing solemnly at the first twinkling stars on the horizon, the giant moon beginning its rise over the ocean. Once upon a time, Rinoa was his fantasy - his first love, as it were. Now he was declaring her his enemy. "It'll be hard on all of us…" Seifer continued, avoiding any chance of discussing his own feelings. "But I'm sure all the SeeDs know their duty. We've got to stop her."

Cid scratched his head, the same way he used to when discussing an awkward topic. "Well Seifer, it's… a bit more complicated than that. Rinoa is more than just a Sorceress now. Squall's the head of SeeD, Balamb's headmaster… and Rinoa is his wife. She's practically married to SeeD, you could say."

The aloofness Seifer had been trying so hard to project shattered at the mention of Squall. It was tough enough to struggle with the truth about Rinoa, but hearing about Mr. Leader in charge of SeeD, married to the person they needed to destroy, was a bit much to process.

Seifer sank onto the sandy ground, his face flushed. It took him a full minute to suppress his simmering anger before speaking again. "...what the hell do we do about it, sir?"

Cid sighed quietly as he stood above Seifer, looking down on him with pity. Eventually he stooped down himself, gingerly trying to find a less sandy patch to sit on next to Seifer. "For starters, don't lose sight of our mission. Ultimecia has returned, and we have to stop her."

Seifer lifted his head in surprise. "Our mission? You mean, you believe me?"

Cid nodded. "I do."

Seifer shook his head incredulously. He thought Cid would take a lot more convincing, especially with only his word to go on. "...I'll need a team," he said after a moment. "I can't do this alone."

"Have you tried Raijin and Fujin?" Cid offered. "I'm surprised they're not with you already."

Seifer gave a rueful smile. "I haven't been in touch. Maybe I've been stayin' too much out of trouble."

"Maybe so!" Cid laughed. "Well, I at least know where Fujin is. She's teaching secondary school in Deling City."

Seifer raised a confused eyebrow. "Fujin? With kids?"

"I sat in on her class once. She's got a good approach. She's strict, but sincere. Her students have a lot of respect for her." Cid picked up a dry stick of seagrass, twiddling it in his fingers before throwing it away. "From there I'm sure the two of you can find Raijin. In the meantime I'll talk to Squall and get a sounding on him. Though I don't have high hopes..."

"Why bother then?" muttered Seifer, a little louder than he intended.

Cid shrugged. "Out of respect, I suppose. He deserves a chance, though of course I'll keep my knowledge of you a secret." Cid rose and dusted the sand from his buttocks. "There's one other person I think you should speak to," he added as Seifer rose after him: "Quistis."

"Hah!" Seifer slapped his knee. "Instructor Trepe!" He waved Cid away. "Sorry sir, I'm not lookin' for another scar. Chain whips leave their mark."

"She's Headmaster Trepe now," Cid corrected, "Headmaster of Galbadia Garden. Started her own SeeD program, too. We may not be able to convert any Balamb SeeDs, but you might have luck with Galbadia."

Seifer was silent as he acknowledged that Cid had a point. He might very well need his own army of SeeD if all of Balamb would be against him. "Alright," he resigned. "I'll do it."

Cid put his hand on Seifer's shoulder, feeling him tremble under his palm at the sign of affection. "I'm glad you came to me, Seifer. You have a new chance to prove yourself, and I'll help you however I can."

Seifer watched Cid as he turned away, strolling back down the beach with his hands in his pockets. He never had much respect for the old coot while he was at the Garden, but he recalled the day when he had botched his last SeeD exam; Cid had consoled him even as others berated him. He would be disciplined for not following orders, Cid had said, but that he also wasn't without sympathy for Seifer. He didn't want mindless machines, and cadets like Seifer, he encouraged, should be able to think and act for themselves.

Seifer nodded silently to himself. That moment from years ago, he realized, was why he had sought Cid out first. And like he hoped, Cid had listened.

He stood, taking one last look at the rising moon before spinning away from the beach, the tails of his trenchcoat flowing around with him. He had his chance now, and he was damn well going to take it.


In a classroom of one Deling City charter school, Instructor Fujin paced back and forth in front of her class. Her cropped silver hair shone under the bright ceiling lights, her taut black uniform plain and androgynous. Her students, all twelve and thirteen years of age, sat rigid in their seats, their backs straight, their faces stoic. Their unwavering attentions were glued to Fujin, watching her rose-colored eye whenever she passed, dreading her gaze would fall on them to demand the answer to the next question. And whenever Fujin spun on her heel to face the other direction, they would then only see the black patch over her other eye, helpless to even guess if they would be called on next.

Fujin turned sharply to one student in the front row of desks - a taller girl with a long black ponytail. "Miss Beauenfant, summarize the history of Knight Bohemond."

The girl shot to her feet, the red scarf of her black uniform flying briefly up in front of her face. "Bohemond I of the Holy Dollet Empire was a knight of the First Centran Crusade. He went to the Centran capital and made oaths to Alexan, Emperor of Centra, and swore Knighthood to his wife, the Sorceress Eidolona. He fought successful campaigns against the Kashkabaldi tribes, but he broke his oath to Centra by keeping the conquered lands to himself. He was defeated by Alexan and Eidolona, and forced to become Alexan's vassal."

"An accurate rendition. Why?"

Miss Beauenfant shuddered with nervousness. "I'm sorry Instructor, I don't understand."

"Why Centra? Why defeated?"

"I…" The girl blanched. She had read the required chapters cover to cover, but nothing in them explained why. "...I don't know, Instructor."

Fujin gestured to the girl's desk. "Be seated, Miss Beauenfant."

The girl sank slowly, her face red and bashful. But her classmates remained unmoving; if any of them thought of teasing her, they didn't dare do so in front of Fujin.

"History may be dates and facts... tall tales, old artifacts, biased chronicles. But learning why is the true objective of the historian.

"Bohemond went. He fought. Won. Lost! Why?"

Fujin paused for a moment, her normally hawkish eye unfocused as her thought trailed into memory. A couple of students dared to exchange glances, surprised at their teacher's unusual show of laxity.

"Bohemond was proud, emotional, romantic. Everyone loved him, died for him. He didn't listen to them. They warned him, he wouldn't heed them. They had no choice but to leave.

"Everyone needs friends. Serve your friends as they serve you. Otherwise, you will be lost. Like Bohemond."

A steel bell in the hall rang the end of class. The students remained seated until Fujin dismissed them with a curt nod. As they rose and exited, they passed Seifer leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed in the folds of his gray trench coat. Fujin locked her eye with him, but didn't move or call out while the students were leaving.

When Seifer and Fujin were all who remained, Seifer gave a friendly wave. "Hey," he said simply. "Long time, no see."

Fujin stared a moment longer, neither speaking nor signaling to him. But her manner did betray slight flickers of emotion: her eyebrow rising and falling, her rose eye slightly watering before drying quickly, like frost on a window pane.

She took a single breath, then pivoted and walked to her desk, seating herself at a pile of exams. "A mission?" she asked flatly as she pulled the first exam from the top of the pile.

"Ultimecia's back."

Fujin hesitated for a moment as she was placing the tip of her grading pen against the paper, accidentally bleeding out a small splotch before realizing her error and lifting it. "Redemption?"

"Of course."

Fujin capped the grading pen and set it down on the desk. She leaned back in her chair, a single leg crossed, her arms on both armrests as she studied her old friend. Her students would have flinched under the same gaze she was giving him now, but Seifer was unphased. And why not? He had never been deterred by anything before, there was no reason he would be now. But had he truly learned his lessons? Did he know how much he broke her heart, and Raijin's?

Fujin rose, swiftly throwing on her blue cuffed jacket. "I'm in."

Even knowing her desire for efficiency, Seifer couldn't help but show surprise at Fujin's quick response. "Really? Just like that?" He looked bemusedly around the classroom. "What about the kids?"

Fujin waved dismissively at the exam papers. "Sabbatical."

"Okay…" shrugged Seifer. "I wanna find Raijin too. Do you know where he is?"

Fujin nodded. "Gym downtown."

"Sweet, let's go get 'em."

As Seifer left the room and walked down the hallway, Fujin trailed behind a few steps to observe him a little more. She had her doubts that he was a changed man, but she wasn't going to miss out on history: Bohemond was on the march again.


Raijin was stretched out on the workout bench, his ears deaf to the grunts and clamoring of weights from other parts of the gym. He could feel every bead of sweat dripping down his face, the small pillow cushioning his head, the intense heat from his swelling chest and arms.

He was a colossus of a man - his skin like bronze, his muscles toned and sculpted, his strength herculean. But even a Hercules has his limits to expand; yesterday he moved hills, so today he must move mountains. Raijin's mountain was resting on his palms: 400 pounds of iron on a 45 pound bar.

He took a breath and lifted the barbell off the rack, taking the full burden on his arms. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered the ponderous weight until the bar was an inch from his chest. His focus was intense - his eyes closed, his mind aware of every straining sinew of his great muscles. There were only two things in his world at the moment: his body, and the bar. He exhaled as he pushed back up, but after only a few inches the bar began to feel its heaviest. Raijin commanded every thread of every muscle to push, but it made no difference: the bar slowed its ascent until it stopped, hovering precariously over Raijin's chest. He hissed between his gritted teeth; it took all his effort just to keep the bar where it was, let alone lift it higher.

But into his world a voice entered, like a light in darkness. You got this, Rai. Raijin weakly opened his eyes, his narrow vision revealing the bleary face of the speaker. Above him stood Ji, his palms just beneath the middle of the barbell, ready to hold it in case Raijin's muscles failed.

Raijin kept the bar level as Ji became clearer: his soft dark face and trim black hair, his hazel eyes glowing with warm encouragement. "A couple more inches, Rai. You got this."

Raijin closed his eyes once more. With a loud yell and surge of force, he thrust the bar steadily up and slipped it onto the rack.

He leaned himself up, catching his breath. Ji sat next to him on the bench and put one arm around his broad shoulders, his smile widening. "That's a club record, Rai."

Raijin laughed softly, his breath still short. "Couldn't have done it without ya, ya know?" Raijin and Ji clasped hands together, their grips strong and earnest.

Raijin glanced toward the door of the gym just as Fujin came in. "Fujin!" he waved. "How's it goin'?"

Fujin gestured toward the door, stepping aside as Seifer entered. Raijin's jaw dropped, his dark eyebrows lifted high in happy surprise. "Seifer!" his voice boomed across the gym. He sprang to his feet and bounded across the floor, his footfalls like thunder, as Ji followed a respectful distance behind.

"Seifer! God I love ya, man!" Raijin threw his arms wide and squeezed Seifer in a great, burly hug. Seifer had a respectably intimidating physique of his own, but Raijin's mountainous bulk made him look like a child.

"Raijin!" Seifer cheered back, slapping his shoulders with as much enthusiasm. "Shit man, you weren't small before, but now you're a friggin' tank."

"Been workin' out, ya know? Ji's showin' me the business too - joint ownership of the club, ya know?" Raijin spun around to see Ji waiting patiently behind him. "Let me introduce ya! - Ji? Seifer. Seifer? Ji!"

The two men shook hands with cordial smiles. "Great to finally meet you, man," said Ji. "I've heard tons about you." Ji gave a knowing glance to Fujin and Raijin. "I've gotta check the front desk - give y'all some time to catch up, ya know?" Ji winked at Raijin before heading away.

Seifer's eyes followed Ji for a minute as he left. "Who's he? Seems like a cool enough dude."

"Oh, well… ya know…" Raijin scratched his head bashfully. "We've been friends for a while, but now we're actually, um... together... ya know?"

"What?!" exclaimed Seifer. Raijin glanced shyly at him, half expecting to be teased. But Seifer was bright and smiling; he looked genuinely excited for his friend. "That's great, man! I'm happy for you."

"I uh… well, thanks!..." mumbled Raijin with a coy smile. But then he snapped back to business. "Dude, I can't believe it!" he said proudly. "The posse, back together again! What brings ya? Wasn't sure I'd see you again, but I'm glad I did, ya know?"

"I know," Seifer smiled proudly at him, but his smile slowly faded as his thoughts returned to his mission. "Ultimecia's back. I need your help."

"Ulti? That witch?" Raijin frowned as he folded his arms, visibly twitching every muscle in his thick neck. "Definitely don't want her back in your life. She messed you up pretty bad, ya know?" Raijin pulled a clean white towel off a nearby table, wiping the sweat from his face before chucking it into a hamper. "How'd you find out, anyway?"

"You heard about Timber, I take it?" Seifer took a long breath. "...It's Rinoa."

"...Complicated," muttered Fujin.

"Hell yeah," added Raijin. Both friends knew about Seifer's summer with Rinoa, way back in the old days… back before things started to go wrong. "Well man, I ain't gonna leave you hangin'. But, let me ask ya… does it have to be you?"

"Concur," seconded Fujin.

Seifer shook his head solemnly. "Who else? She's married to Squall… he's not gonna do shit about it. And that means neither are SeeD - the Balamb ones, anyway. And besides, I know more about that bitch than anyone."

Fujin and Raijin exchanged worried glances at Seifer's sudden bitterness. But they knew their place. They both nodded resolutely to each other and turned back to Seifer.

"Ok man," resigned Raijin. "Like I said, we're with ya."

Seifer looked at Raijin with a surprisingly sympathetic look. "But what about Ji?" he asked. "I don't wanna come between you two."

"Ji? Nah, don't worry about him." Raijin gave a loving look toward the front desk. "He gets it; he knows I ain't me without you." Raijin smiled with satisfaction, but quickly added, "...He'd also want me back alive, ya know?"

Seifer nodded. "Yeah, I get that." He smiled, putting his hands on Fujin and Raijin's shoulders. "But you said it: the posse's back. And this time?... we're gonna be the good guys."


Jason, a young 5th Rank SeeD, walked briskly down a spartan gray hallway toward the Galbadia Garden administrative offices. There was a lot of traffic on his route; he jostled past SeeDs, cadets, and other staff hurrying in either direction on their assignments. The battle for Timber had been won almost a week ago, but still the Garden was busy managing the aftermath. They had to repair damaged vehicles, replenish stocks of meds and magic, coordinate rehab for the wounded… not to mention, they were dealing with grumblings and mutterings from the student body about the circumstances of their victory - the disturbing powers shown by the Sorceress of Balamb.

Jason reached the door to the administrative offices and knocked, but at first he could only hear the shuffling of assistants doing busywork. After a second knock, the voice of Nida answered: "Come!"

Jason opened the door and saw the deputy headmaster busy on his console. At tables on either side were several assistants, preparing the headmaster's dossier for the upcoming peace talks. "Sir!" Jason said as he saluted Nida. "A visitor is requesting an urgent meeting with Headmaster Trepe."

"Ugh!..." groaned Nida angrily as he continued to gaze hard at the console. "They think they can just barge up like this?"

"The visitor left his name at the gate, but requested that we only tell it to the headmaster."

"Oh really?" Nida rolled his eyes. "Well, request denied. Who is the sonuvabitch, Jason?"

A slight tinge of red came to Jason's cheeks as he eyed the nearby assistants, some of them slowing their work to listen in. Jason walked around Nida's desk and bent over to whisper in his ear.

Nida's eyes flashed violently, his anger mixing with utter disbelief. "...Who?"


Several minutes later, Seifer walked down the same hallway behind Jason, hands in his pockets, whistling a shanty he had learned in Fisherman's Horizon. But instead of turning into Nida's office, they walked past it to a solitary elevator door. Jason pushed the UP button and stood aside, averting his eyes from Seifer. "The headmaster is on the top floor, sir."

Seifer, feeling oddly amused at the effect his presence was having on the young SeeD, slapped him on the back. "Thanks, kid!" Jason blushed furiously as he stood there, thinking only that the elevator was taking far longer than usual. But soon enough it arrived, and Seifer stepped in alone. Jason let out a relieved sigh as the doors closed, wondering why on earth the infamous Seifer Almasy wanted to see Headmaster Trepe.

As the elevator rose, Seifer chuckled sardonically. Walking through the Garden had brought back old memories, as well as old behaviors. He had it in his head to be as insubordinate to Quistis as when he was her student. He really didn't have much hope for getting anything out of this meeting, and wouldn't have even bothered if it hadn't been for Cid's recommendation. He figured this was merely a chance to get one more laugh in on his old instructor.

When the elevator doors opened, Seifer winced from the glare of sudden daylight. The mid-morning sun was shining directly into his face from tall windows in the back of the office. It was only when his eyes adjusted did he notice Quistis Trepe standing over her desk, briskly organizing some papers. Her face was stern, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on her work, but the radiance of the sunlight behind her made her cheeks glow softly white, like fresh snow in the shade of trees. A few agitated strands of blonde hair floated separately from her long golden bangs, catching fire in the light as she moved to and fro. Seifer stood in awe, surprised that he was finding Quistis Trepe, in that light at least, to be an astoundingly attractive woman.

Quistis, however, was not seeing Seifer the same way, and she made sure he knew it. She stuffed a last stack of papers into her briefcase before slamming her hands on her desk. "Seifer! What the hell do you think you're doing?! Do you have any idea how improper it is for you to come here?!" Quistis glared furiously at him, her radiant blue eyes piercing like thunderbolts.

Her sudden anger brought Seifer out of his stupor, but it didn't shake the enamored feeling that still lingered from his first sight of her. "My dear Headmaster!" he replied suavely, extending his hands with a roguelike swagger. "Can't a man just come and say hi to his old instructor?"

"No, he can't. Especially when that man is you!" Quistis' lip curled slightly as she crossed her arms. "What do you need, Seifer?"

Seifer shrugged despondently. He hadn't expected much better of a reception, but he was surprised to feel so hurt by it. Somehow, in some strange way, he felt himself wanting her sympathy. "I need your help. All of SeeD, in fact." He went on, explaining everything he knew about Ultimecia's return. He spoke solemnly of the burden he faced, his desire to be responsible for his past actions and defeat Ultimecia before it was too late.

Quistis wasn't even remotely swayed; her eyes had even flared with pointed anger at Seifer's mention of Rinoa. "Ultimecia's back, she's really Rinoa, and you believe you're the one to stop her?" She laughed derisively. "Stop deluding yourself. You don't know Ultimecia's here. You just want it to be true, so you can have some chance at redeeming yourself." Quistis casually brushed away a folder from her desk as she sat down heavily in her chair. "Don't you get it? It's over now. Your ship's sailed, and there's no getting it back."

This would have been the end of the conversation if Seifer were in any other state of mind. But instead, he gave Quistis a peculiar smile, seated himself on the corner of her desk, and gazed into her dazzling blue eyes. "Headmaster," he said softly, "save those words for a bad student who needs them, eh?"

Quistis said nothing and stared back, determined to find the challenge in the depths of Seifer's eyes, but she only found an odd tenderness that had never been there before. As her defenses faltered and her manner softened, she wondered: what had Seifer actually been up to all these years? What was causing him to act so differently?

Quistis blinked and looked away, feeling a sudden warmth in her cheeks. "Seifer, I… I can't just trust you. I need proof."

Seifer nodded. "I understand," he replied. "At least come by when you're in Dollet. You can talk to the others… maybe you'll change your mind."

Quistis hesitated, utterly unsure of how to respond. But in the end she resigned, nodding silently. As Seifer left the office, she began to wonder what exactly had begun. He had always been a bully, arrogant and incorrigible. But that look he had given her… it was like he was a stranger, but a persistent, loveable stranger - the kind who would be so bold as to ask you for a dance, even before they ask you for your name.

She touched her fingers to her cheeks, feeling the warmth that was still radiating from them. This only made her blush even more furiously; she had a staff meeting coming up, and it wouldn't do for them to see her like this.

She went quickly to her washroom and dabbed her face with a wet cloth. As she looked in the mirror and watched little wisps of steam rise from her skin, she spoke to herself. "Quistis girl," she said to the mirror, "are you really so desperate?"


In the evening before the peace conference, Dollet's cafes and restaurants were busy hosting some very high profile guests. Many of the conference dignitaries had unofficial agendas, meeting over coffee or beers to take care of business that otherwise wouldn't be covered in the official proceedings. Others were simply meeting to catch up with each other - old friends whose duties had for years kept them apart.

It was under the latter pretense that Quistis arrived at one swank Dollet restaurant, asking the host to be seated under Cid Kramer's reservation. The host, a young man in a dapper maroon vest and black bow tie, bowed and answered her cordially. "Of course, madam. Allow me to take you to his table."

The host didn't lead Quistis to a patio or corner booth, but down a narrow hallway to a private room. As he opened the door for her, she saw a large dining table, dimly lit by candles, with several others already seated around it. It wasn't difficult to recognize Fujin and Raijin, who along with Seifer, Quistis reminisced, made up the old Balamb disciplinary committee. And Cid was of course completely in his element, his gay blue eyes behind gold spectacles sparkling in the candlelight. Seifer was without his faded coat, his blonde hair meticulously combed, his dark blue vest steamed and pressed.

Quistis seated herself without a word of greeting, and a moment after the host closed the door, she spoke.

"Before you start," she said, "there's something I want to make perfectly clear. At this moment I don't believe a single word of what you've all told me. In fact, I'm inclined to tell Squall the whole story. So given that, say what you're going to say, and I'll decide if it's worth keeping you out of prison."

Fujin and Raijin couldn't help but shudder at Quistis' icy threat. Cid however, despite trembling himself, found his voice. "That won't be necessary, Quistis, I assure you. We only want to do the right thing."

"And how exactly is this the right thing?"

Seifer breathed a thoughtful sigh. "I promise you I know what I'm doing. Ultimecia is here, and she's Rinoa. And if I'm right, the whole world is in danger."

"We've known that Ultimecia would return at some point," remarked Cid. "Think about it, Quistis. A Sorceress only becomes one by absorbing another's powers. Do you know any other Sorceress alive today, besides Rinoa?"

"No," muttered Quistis, "but that doesn't mean anything. Ultimecia could inherit from Rinoa. In fact, there could be hundreds of successors between Rinoa and Ultimecia."

"Have you met any new successors?" Cid pointed. "Rinoa I know for a fact has not."

"That doesn't mean they aren't out there."

"What about Squall's lion?" Seifer challenged. "I heard that when you fought Ultimecia, she summoned a Guardian Force against you. A pretty powerful one, it sounded like… Griever, wasn't it? How would she know Griever without knowing Squall?"

Quistis smirked dismissively. "She claimed that she read Squall's mind to create Griever."

"I wonder, was she boasting, or compensating?" Cid mused. "Twisting facts to account for the strange young knight arriving at her doorstep, wearing images of her dear Griever?"

Quistis raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What's all that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you shouldn't take your enemy at their word. Certainly not one in the state of mind that a Rinoa-Ultimecia must have been in."

Quistis bristled at the suggestion that she needed to learn how to read one's enemy. "Look, I get that you're trying to be rational about this, but you're forgetting one important thing. If Rinoa is Ultimecia, why did Ultimecia try to kill Rinoa, let alone all of us? Why didn't she recognize us?"

"Why didn't you recognize me when we met at Balamb?" Seifer replied with a rueful smile. "We went to the same orphanage, for God's sake."

"Well, the Guardian Forces…"

"They replaced your memories, right?" hinted Cid. "You claimed in your debrief that Ultimecia had no less than sixteen Guardian Forces hidden amongst her castle servants. Don't you think it likely that they would have replaced Ultimecia's memories too? It would certainly explain her Griever claim that we were just discussing."

Quistis was silent for a moment. "I agree," she said slowly, "that there are a lot of coincidences. But they're still all circumstantial. Ultimecia can still be someone else and fit all the facts. She could be one of Rinoa's daughters, for instance. Or granddaughters, once she has them. Until we get solid proof, I'm not willing to raise my whip against her."

A few frustrated grunts and sighs reverberated in the room. But before anyone spoke again, there came a knock at the door. "Forgive my interruption," said the restaurant host with a bow, "but another guest has asked to be seated with you."

The host stepped aside to allow the newcomer. A graceful, elegant woman entered, wearing a white summer skirt and a flowing green shawl over a blue blouse. She had lovely brown hair under a wide-brimmed hat, and her soft brown eyes were like wells of knowledge, serene and wise.

Everyone stood to welcome her. "E-Ellone!…" Cid stammered bashfully. "You're welcome to sit with us, of course. But how…"

Ellone nodded respectfully. "Please forgive me for surprising you, Headmaster. And Seifer," Ellone addressed directly, "I must ask you specifically for forgiveness. I have been connecting to you, which is how I discovered your meeting place."

Seifer blushed. Everyone in the room was aware of Ellone's special power, to "connect" and observe the pasts of people she knows. "I, um… thank you, sis. But why are you here?"

Ellone took her seat in the middle of the table. "I'm here to support you - all of you. You are on the right path, but you are scared… scared to fully embrace the truth." She was silent for a moment as she looked at each of them, her gaze turning to Quistis last. "Let me show you."

Quistis looked back at Ellone, their eyes connecting for only a brief moment before Quistis slumped unconsciously into her chair. The same happened to all the others; Seifer, Fujin, Raijin, and Cid all fell into a sudden and deep sleep. Only Ellone remained sitting, her posture straight and ladylike, but her eyes closed as if meditating.

The room was eerily quiet, the guests unmoving in their chairs as the candles on the table melted away. But the minds of the sleepers were far away, embarked on a journey through time and space. Ellone led them to many places: the flower field by the orphanage, where Squall and Rinoa had made tryst; the ruined basketball court of Trabia Garden, when Rinoa confessed her fears of being left behind and losing everyone; to the battle for Timber where Rinoa revealed the new strength of her power; and, finally, to the ultimate battle, where the Fated Children fought the Sorceress among the stars. It was there they could all see the monstrous final form of Ultimecia, and dangling below, fused to Ultimecia at the waist and naked like a child out of the womb, was the irrefutable form of Rinoa.

As Ellone's session ended, the guests stirred, then slowly sat up, regaining their composure. Ellone opened her eyes and nodded to them. "Now you know, and all doubt must be cast aside. Ultimecia has returned, and we in this room must be the ones to stop her."

Quistis' eyes watered as she looked down on the table. "Poor Rinoa…" she lamented. "If only we had known sooner… if only we had realized then, in that battle…"

"You can't have," consoled Cid. "The battle was too intense. There was no way you would have known her in such a moment."

"I didn't recognize our point of view in Timber," remarked Seifer. "Who were we junctioned to then?"

"That was Nexi, my niece," Ellone clarified. "The middle of Rinoa's three adopted children."

"Curious," wondered Fujin.

"Yeah," added Raijin. "She was freakin' terrified of Rinoa, ya know?"

"Yes, she was," agreed Ellone. "It was her fear that first caused me to suspect Rinoa myself."

Quistis looked from Ellone to Seifer. "Maybe she can be recruited? Help us bring Rinoa in?"

Seifer shook his head. "Maybe. But I want to be sure. We need every resource we have, but most importantly we need secrecy. If our conspiracy is exposed… we could accelerate Ultimecia's rise."

Seifer stood; he sensed it was time for him to take charge. "Rinoa is our friend, and we must respect her for that. But we've gotta bring her down. We'll operate from the shadows, use speed and secrecy to accomplish our goal as quickly as possible. But if it comes to open combat, we've gotta do everything it takes, even if it means our lives."

Everyone in the room looked vividly at Seifer. His speech had resonated well with them, their spirit of camaraderie and determination fully kindled.

"I'll speak with General Caraway," Cid offered. "As well as my other Galbadian contacts - see what kinds of political and material support they can offer us."

"And I'll consult with my staff," Quistis added. "You can expect a roster of my most trusted SeeDs by the end of the week."

A proud smile formed on Seifer's face. "Thank you, everyone. I promise I won't fail you… we'll finally be the heroes we all deserve to be."