The glowing Sun broke emerged from the horizon, rising above the grand city with its warm, golden glow. It was the perfect sunrise, allowing for the peaceful atmosphere to dissipate gradually as the birds sang and tweeted in unison.

  It was a brand-new day.

  it was a Sunday.

  The fragrant scent of heated toast and grilled bacon greeted the man who rose from his slumber.

  Unlike other days where he would rush to work, Sunday was a day of relaxation. It was his time to remove the looming weight from his shoulders and embrace the desire for laziness.

  With that said, the toasty aroma invited him to step away from his bed, his stomach grumbling at the thought of consuming such a delicacy.

  Fighting off his dreamlike state, the man smiled gleefully as he stepped out of his bed. Stretching out his weary limbs, he proceeded to follow the distinct aroma – yielding to its constant teasing.

  His mind was in the clouds, imagining himself gouging away at the bread and bacon.

  Step…! Twitch!

  However, as he took his first step of the day, his leg gave out.

  Thwomp!

  Before he realised what had occurred, the man dropped to the floor in an instant.

  His long, jet-black hair was tangled and covering his face entirely as he processed the situation in his collapsed state – clutching his leg in agony.

  "Squall…! Squall! I've got another leg cramp!" The man called out in desperate plea, hoping for a response. "Come help me up!"

  However, after a moment of silence, he was met with an unsavoury response.

  "Tsk…! Do it yourself."

  Squall's distinctive monotone voice echoed, expressing no mercy.

  "I'm busy."

  The man pouted in disappointment.

  "Aw, Squall. Don't be so harsh on your Old Man! I'm helpless down here!"

  And yet, Squall's words were final.

  "Cooking breakfast takes priority."

  The man groaned out, acting as though he was imitating a lazy seal.

  In his mind, he felt betrayed that his own son, struggling to believe that the boy would refuse to help him in his desperate time of need.

  (Man, where did I go wrong with him…)

  The man sighed out in defeat, chuckling away at the thought.

  In the end, he gave up on persuading Squall to help him any further, feeling it was completely futile. Instead, he rolled to his front, his body lying flat against the carpet floor as he forced himself to move.

  With all the morning strength he could muster, the man used his arms to crawl towards the door, aiming for the kitchen with the glorious smell of breakfast to guide him.

  His legs dragging from behind, the man refused to allow Squall's stubbornness to control his fate.

  (…I am Laguna Loire. President of Esthar. And this heart of mine refuses to give in to such an obstacle!)

  Meanwhile, in the Kitchen downstairs…

  With earphones covering his ears to as he drowned out anymore of his father's whines, Squall finished preparing the breakfast.

  Consisting of the traditional bacon, eggs, and toast: it was impossible to fault the level of care placed in his dish.

  The bacon was sizzling and crisp with perfection, engulfing the entire Kitchen in its rich, irresistible aroma. Additionally, the eggs were fried to perfect texture, a balance of the golden-brown egg-white and a gooey yolk. Finally, the toast emerged from the toaster browned and crisped to perfection, completing the trio of an ideal breakfast.

  Squall was satisfied by his creation, believing he had made an artistic masterpiece through the simple concept of breakfast – even though his lack of visible emotion suggested otherwise.

  After adding a few final touches, Squall split the food into two dishes – one for himself and the other for his father. Balancing the dishes in his hands, Squall turned and stepped towards the dining room with eyes locked on the sturdy table situated at the centre of the room.

  Squall was in his zone, music playing loud through his equipped earbuds as he anticipated the taste of his new masterpiece.

  Nothing could distract him.

  "Ah-HAH!"

  In that very moment, a voice bellowed out at the unsuspecting Squall abruptly.

  "Fork over the food!"

  Snatch!

  A hand then latched around Squall's ankle.

  "WHAT THE-?!"

  Taken aback by the sudden interception, the oblivious Squall leapt back in a startle, stumbling back in the process.

  Attempting to regain his footing, Squall lost his balance entirely – causing the plate of breakfast in his hand to slip.

  As if the world's time slowed to a crawl, Squall could only watch in despair as the bacon and toast fell towards the floor. Underneath the falling plate, Laguna's expression dropped from a cheeky grin to a horrified gasp, noticing he mistake far too late to save it.

  Eyes wide and mouth agape, Laguna switched hastily into a bracing guard.

  SMASH!

  Squall glared with a combination of frustration and disgust, his earphones slipped out from his ears and dangling loosely from the neck of his shirt.

  Pushing the plate aside and wiping the large parts of toast and bacon off his mug, Laguna was left to sulk and groan.

  "Karma … why are you so cruel?" Laguna murmured with a disheartened pout, holding back the tears. "First the leg cramp ... now this! I swear, the Goddess has forsaken me…"

  Squall's eyes rolled at the pathetic attempt for sympathy, questioning how they were related.

  However, his gaze then switched to the devastation below him.

  Once the result of an edible masterpiece – now an unfathomable mess covering his pathetic excuse of a father along with plate shards, bacteria, and other detestable unmentionables staining the kitchen floor: the breakfast was beyond saving.

  Squall then returned his attention to his father, death emulating from his eyes.

  "You better eat every last scrap of food that was on that plate." Squall warned antagonistically, his aura thriving like a raging fire regardless of his emotionless exterior.

  "Wha-? HUUHH!?" Laguna blurted out in heightened despair, his mouth agape and eyes wide from the blasphemous horror. "Y-you're kidding me, right?! I can't eat this crap! I'll be out of commission for the next week! Think about the three-second rule, Squall! THE THREE-SECOND RULE!"

  Squall stared unfazed.

  "Not my problem." He murmured back coldly.

  "B-but … it's practically inedible."

  "So … you're saying my cooking is bad?" Squall growled judgingly, his deathly eyes piercing through the soul of his own father. "Is it not up to your expectations?"

  "N-no, that's not what I-!" Laguna stuttered hesitantly, realising the implications of his words. "I-I mean … Y-you're cooking is amazing! It's always amazing! it's just that-!"

  He then noticed Squall's eyes sharpen upon him.

  "…Never mind."

  Attempting to scramble to his feet, the defeated Laguna scooped as much of the food from the floor as possible. After that, he wiped away the mess from his face and straightened his posture, facing Squall with a guilt-ridden expression with the spoilt food in his hands.

  Squall glared back, his expression indicating that his father was nothing more than an annoying pest.

  "Eat the food … it's getting cold."

  Laguna attempted to grovel once again upon hearing his son's spiteful command, and yet no words could escape his mouth.

  He was at the mercy of Squall.

  Gazing down at his plate in silence, Laguna sighed underneath his breath as he accepted the reality of his predicament. He then shifted reluctantly and perched on a seat before the dining table, struggling to find the resolve to consume the inedible dish.

  At first, he picked though his food as he prayed for any scrap of descent sections. However, he could only pout in disappointment.

  On the other hand, Squall perched himself on the opposite side of the dining table and took no time in digging into his own breakfast, acting satisfied upon tasting the results of his cooking – as well as watching his father suffer the consequences of his actions.

  Eventually, Squall finished his food and stood up from his seat, shifting over to the dishwasher with his empty plate.

  With his head placed against the table surface, Laguna was left sulking in despair. Unlike his son's, his plate was only half empty, his stomach unable to consume another bite of revolting slop.

  Upon his return, Squall glared down at his father, expecting the outcome yet equally disappointed.

  "…You failed."

  Laguna could feel a sudden stab into his soul, his heart shattered at the brutal verdict.

  His entire existence was reduced to atoms instantly, the story of his life and achievements flashing before his eyes as the damning judgement engulfed his mind.

  Squall groaned irritably, unable to withstand his father's insufferable mannerisms.

  "Screw this … I'm heading out."

  (…What a pain.)

  However, just as he turned away and mumble to himself, he heard his father's voice leap into action abruptly.

  "Ooh! Who're you going to see?" Laguna asked his son eagerly, reviving from the dead. "Are you meeting your mates from the academy? Or … maybe you're meeting a girl?"

  Squall stumbled upon the question, glancing back with an exasperated expression.

  "Do you always have to ask about my personal affairs?" Squall complained in a flustered response.

  Laguna then gave out a light chuckle.

  "I'm just curious, Squall. Isn't it part of the Old man's job to ask these important questions?"

  "That's got nothing to do with anything." Squall growled back, believing his father's priorities were skewed. "Mind your own business."

  An idea then clicked in Laguna's mind.

  "Ah, I know! I'll go enrol myself into Dissidia!" He announced on sudden whim. "Maybe a teacher or an undercover student! You never know, I can be your all-almighty wingman."

  Squall's eyes widened in horror.

  "NO! No-no-no! Don't you ever joke about that! That idea is lethal." Squall warned in heightened distraught, unable to fathom the idea of his own father as a teacher and a classmate.

  "Aw…! There's no need to shut me down, Squall." Laguna continued to tease, beaming with amusement. "You never know … me joining Dissidia would do wonders."

  Overwhelmed with disgust, Squall slipped a pair of cabled earphones in his ears in haste, drowning out his father's insufferable voice along with any other needless noise. He then stormed out of the room – followed by the front door closing in the distance.

  Laguna watched him leave, snickering away at the sight of his son's predictable reactions. He then picked one last piece of breakfast, ignorant to his crying stomach as he muttered to himself with a lofty grin.

  "Hah-haa…! Foreshadowing is such a delight…"

  He chewed down on the piece of bacon…

  "MMPH!?"

  …Only to lurch forward with a sudden sickly gulp.

  A moment later…

  Squall stepped through the peaceful streets, music blasting through in his ears as his mind drifted into the far reaches of his imagination.

  The bright Sunday Sun was beaming down upon him, engulfing his body in a warm glow as he proceeded down his path. The street was almost empty: a few kids were found playing with a foam Blitzball; a few adult residents working on the lawn along with other household chores; and other meaningless distractions.

  Squall felt that he was in his comfort-zone, listening to his preferred music alone and free from any unnecessary inconvenience.

  However, it was at that moment when he heard an inkling of noise attempting to break through his music – like an irritating itch refusing to leave. Additionally, the Blitzball-playing kids had halted their game abruptly as they stared off towards the distance ahead, their ball rolling down the hill as they stood idle in the middle of the road.

  Feeling the eyes staring upon him unwelcoming, the irritable Squall removed one of the earbuds as he checked the surrounding street, noticing the noise growing more prominent by the second.

  He then slowed to a halt, noticing the cause of the noise was from a nearby argument.

  "You always do this, Old Man! I swear, there's no end to your assholery!" A familiar obnoxious voice bellowed out.

  "Ah-hah-hah-hah-haa…! Don't act so sour, kiddo! Just because you couldn't take a small loss, doesn't mean you can throw a tantrum!" Another familiar, gravelly-tones voice mocked loudly in response.

  Squall recognised the two voices immediately, feeling a sense of Déjà vu with their needless squabbling.

  "Screw you! Those dirty tricks were unfair!" The son's voice yelled in outburst, his voice echoing throughout the street without a hint of restraint. "I had barely any room to counterattack!"

  " 'Any room'!? Is that not the entire point!? Admit it! You were slaughtered!" The father's voice provoked with a bellowing chortle. "And you call yourself my son! You still have a long way to go before I consider you my equal!"

  SLAM!

  "GO TO HELL!" The son bellowed back at the house in fury; face beet red and popping with numerous veins. "…You damn old fart!"

  After the sound of a door slamming hard, Squall noticed a figure storming out to the street.

  "Thanks for the reminder! I'll pay the place a visit at some point! Ah-hah-hah-haa!" The father's muffled voice chortled within the house, claiming victory of the argument. "Oh! And don't forget to return home on time this evening, Tidus! I'll be sure to make your next P.E. lesson a living hell if you're back late!"

  Kicking the pavement in a sulk, Tidus grumbled to himself to vent his lingering frustrations. He then gazed up to the clear sky above, spacing out momentarily as his imagination ran wild.

  Noticing he was exposed in the open, Squall shuffled back with a cautious frown.

  (If he sees me, I'll never hear the end of it…)

  He then twisted around in haste and stepped off towards the opposite direction, acting oblivious to the commotion as he returned to listening to his music.

  Tidus was the last person he needed for company, believing his classmate's overtly-energized personality would ruin his entire day – especially after witnessing the events that had unfolded before him. Just imagining him trailing off regarding his grievances with his father and waffling continuously about random topics would send the poor Squall into a spiral of insanity.

  Squall's tactical retreat was strategic, believing he still had a chance to avoid the obnoxious classmate without unnecessary intervention.

  And yet, his music merely drowned out the truth.

  "…SquaaaAAAAAAAAALLLL!"

  Wham!

  "GAH-!?"

  In an instant, Squall's body left the floor without warning and hurtled against his will, tumbling across the concrete ground in uncontrollable momentum. Additionally, he felt a body had latched around his arms, preventing any attempt to save himself from further torment.

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  After screeching to an eventual stop, Squall laid motionless. His eyes were wide with shock as he gasped out for air to return to his lungs.

  Beside him, the culprit of the unexpected tackle scrambled to his feet, peering over the bewildered Squall with a curious yet oblivious gaze.

  "Squall, my man! You're the spark of my day!" Tidus exclaimed in exaggerated delight. "You're like a guardian angel! I don't think I'll be able to thank you enough."

  "R-right … happy to be … of help." Squall responded breathlessly as his earphones slipped out from his ears, his body full of scrape marks and lungs screaming for air.

  (Why me…?)

  After the mumbling Squall recovered to his feet, he decided to continue his trek with inconvenient Tidus as additional company.

  As expected, Tidus took the opportunity to rant away regarding his life's woes – much to Squall's increasing displeasure.

  "Man … that old fart has no sympathy! He's an uptight, selfish asshat who enjoys the suffering of others." Tidus complained with a pout. "The moment I screw up or something didn't to his liking, He'll gruel me to kingdom-come!"

  He then scratched his head vigorously.

  "And worst of all, he competitive as all hell! I'm sure he's a sore loser, but it's impossible to expose him because he never loses a damn game!"

  "Says the guy who – not only damaged the Academy's Blitzball Arena – but also refuses to take the blame by passing off the incident as a 'minor accident'." Squall murmured with an agitated sigh.

  "Huh!? Who told you about that!?" Tidus blurted out in abrupt surprise, almost stumbling over his own feet.

  "Cecil told me about it the other day." Squall shrugged carelessly.

  "Urk-! Damn you, Cecil…!" Tidus growled underneath his breath, feeling betrayed by his close comrade. "I swear … if he's spreading rumours…"

  Squall raised an eyebrow at Tidus, wondering what he was mumbling about.

  However, he then threw away the thought, attempting to understand Tidus' predicament.

  "So, you lost a game against your dad, end up throwing a tantrum … and now you've decided you're going to spend the entire day moaning and groaning about how much you hate his guts."

  Squall sighed at the summary.

  "…Seems legit."

  "Oi! Don't twist the issue on me!" Tidus yelled out, taken aback by Squall's low comment. "Surely you can relate with me here, Squall. I mean, haven't you said before how much you dislike your dad?"

  It was in that moment where the atmosphere between the two shifted, Squall lowering his eyes as his pace slowed.

  On that rare occasion, Tidus noticed his mistake as he glanced at his classmate.

  "Err … heh-heh…! Did I push the wrong button?" Tidus questioned awkwardly, bracing himself for the consequences of his own actions.

  Squall was silent, refusing to look at Tidus in the eye as he was left deep in thought.

  However, Squall then sighed out, raising his head.

  "Don't get the wrong idea. Sure, I find my dad annoying, foolish, lazy, frustrating, and a complete pain in my neck…" He answered. "But … he's still my dad."

  "R-right … I'll keep that in mind." Tidus nodded back anxiously, feeling he had dodged a bullet.

  With that, Squall spoke no other word, satisfied by the conclusion of the conversation.

  Tidus followed close beside his classmate, attempting to speak his mind yet unable to utter a word as he was left to wonder in his own thoughts.

  As they continued walking, Squall returned one earphone to his earhole, keeping the other ear open out of caution for anymore unexpected tackles from Tidus. However, he then noticed Tidus fiddling away with his cell phone, attempting to contact a familiar name on the screen.

  Ring-ring, ring-ring…! Ring-ring, ring-ring…!

  There was no answer.

  "Hm…! Hm-hm-hmm…!"

  Tidus chuckled eerily, amused at an idea that sprung in his mind.

  "What's with the creepy laugh?" Squall questioned in an unamused tone, switching to him with a cautious gaze. "It doesn't suit you."

  "Heh-hee…! Oh, nothing much." Tidus chuckled back with an amused shrug. "Do you mind if we take a detour?"

  "Huh…?"

  Before Squall could understand his classmate's mindset, Tidus stepped on ahead, not speaking another word as a cunning grin was strapped across his face.

  Squall stared at him as the two picked up the pace, feeling he would soon face another unnecessary predicament.

  After a short detour, the two reached their destination.

  What stood before them was a small, comfortable house, grouped with several other identical homes that created the neighbourhood.

  Squall had no idea who owned the house before them yet assumed he would recognise the owner upon entry. Additionally, upon observing Tidus' approach, Squall guessed that a member of the house was another fellow classmate.

  He wished to slip away without a sound. And yet, he felt inclined to follow through with Tidus' schemes.

  Without hesitation, Tidus rang the doorbell eagerly.

  A fanfare-like tune rang out in echo, the tune feeling familiar to both Squall and Tidus.

  Click!

  The door then opened, revealing a tall man with spiky jet-black hair, sky blue eyes, and wearing casual attire with the iconic 'SOLDIER' logo strapped across his belt.

  The man standing before them was none other than Zack Fair.

  "Ah…! Morning, boys!" Zack greeted the two with a large, cheerful grin strapped across his face. "Are you two here for Cloud?"

  "The one-and-only!" Tidus answered back with an equally cheerful grin. "I'm guessing he's still dreaming of girls and chocobos."

  "Nailed it. That kid would sleep the entire day away without a care in the world." Zack admitted with a mixture of cheek and complaint. "Do you mind giving me a hand waking him up?"

  "Do you even have to ask?" Tidus chuckled deviously at the request, as though anticipating the outcome. "What have you cooked up for him this time?"

  "Heh-heh-hee…! It's going to be a good one." Zack teased cunningly, stroking his non-existent beard. "It'll involve a bucket of water, a few trip hazards, and…"

  As the two discussed the impending plan, Squall stood watching them in judging silence.

  (So … now I'm stuck with a pair of over-excited lunatics … great. Just great.)

  Squall sighed out with an inaudible groan, wishing he had ignored his curiosity and slipped out of sight when he had the chance.

  All he desired was his solitude, away from the nuisances of other people.

  "Everything is set up already. All we need now is someone to trigger the process." Zack then suggested, gazing at the two for a suitable volunteer.

  Both Tidus and Zack's eyes then veered towards Squall automatically, both emulating dark, menacing grins as though expecting him to step up to the role. Squall stared back at them with a widened gaze, feeling as though he had no say in the allocated role.

  Deciding it was pointless to argue back, Squall sighed out begrudgingly.

  "Fine. Whatever..."

  Zack and Tidus switched back to each other gleefully, their excitement reaching the boiling point.

  The three entered the house to unleash their plan, Zack leading Tidus and Squall upstairs to showcase the sleeping Cloud. During this time, Squall received a summary of his role, showing a neutral expression as both Zack and Tidus attempted to amuse him with their plan.

  In basic explanation, Squall's role was to throw a bucket filled with cold water onto the sleeping Cloud, setting off a domino-effect of pranks and mayhem.

  It was a simple task, yet there was no doubt that the plan was immensely immoral.

  On the one hand, the mere thought of abuse from such an intricate prank was diabolical to imagine, Squall believing large quantities of the perpetrators' blood would be spilled if he were in Cloud's shoes. However, on the other hand, Squall was morbidly curious with the results of the prank, expecting Cloud's reaction to be hilarious to witness.

  Noticing he was falling into the simple primate-like mentality of some 'notorious' classmates, the horrified Squall shook his head vigorously and returned to reality.

  Finally, the three stood over Cloud's bed where the oblivious Cloud slept, mumbling in his sleep as he was facing another of his 'Fan-girl' nightmares – a trauma both Squall and Tidus were all too familiar with.

  "Right. Time to get into position. Squall, get the bucket ready." Zack commanded with a whispering voice. "Tidus … follow me."

  As the two exited the room, the awkward Squall was left alone standing over Cloud's bed with a bucket of freezing cold water in his grasp.

  His initial thought was the sudden realisation that he was in a precarious position, praying no one else would spot him creepily towering over the innocent, sleeping Cloud. Squall then shifted his thoughts to wondering whether he should sabotage the plan and wake up Cloud.

  However, he opted to fulfil his role, holding the bucket over Cloud's head.

  At first there was silence, and then…

  "NOW!"

  Squall heard Zack's signal loud and clear.

  "Zzzz … H-huh...?"

  In that moment, Cloud awoke groggily, his eyes squinting as he wondered the reason behind the unexpected commotion.

  "…Sorry, Cloud."

  With sudden haste, Squall threw the bucket over the bewildered Cloud, submerging him in freezing water.

  Fwoosh!

  "MMPH-!"

  The blinded Cloud scrambled out from his soaked bed in frantic motion, wrapped from head-to-toe in his binding bedsheet whilst the bucket covered his head entirely. With no idea on his bearings, he stumbled around the room aimlessly.

  Watching him approach in a scurry, the silent Squall stepped away.

  "Wha-?! What's going on-?!" Cloud yelped as he stumbled over, throwing his arms out.

  As the bewildered Cloud passed him, Tidus took over the prank with an eager expression.

  Standing opposite the opened door, Tidus held out his leg nonchalantly, feigning his innocence as he tripped up his friend expectantly.

  "WHOA!"

  Just as he caught Tidus' foot, Cloud momentum carried him across the hall uncontrollably, losing all sense of balance in the process. Additionally, he stumbled into a collection of 'appropriately-placed' pots and pans dotted throughout the floor.

  Donk! Pang…! Bang-bang-bang! SMASH! CLANG!

  Loud, rattling noises could be heard echoing throughout the entire house.

  In that moment, Zack stepped into position, flexing his shoulders in preparation for the final stage of the domino effect.

  As Cloud staggered over to the edge of the descending steps, Zack assisted his direction with a small shove from behind.

  "Wah-?! Woah-woah-woah…! AAAAAHHHH!"

  Bangbangbang…! CRASH!

  With the bucket on his head and drenched bed sheets wrapped loosely throughout his body, the motionless Cloud was left spread out on the ground floor.

  Tidus and Zack raced down the staircase, both expressing sudden concern for the victim. Squall followed from behind, descending the steps at a slower pace with a half-hearted expression.

  "Cloud! Are you okay?!" Zack called out, rushing to his side as he was consumed with regret.

  "Oh, crap! Zack, do you think we took it too far?" Tidus asked him worriedly, kneeling opposite with an anxious sweat.

  As they surrounded him, Tidus removed the bucket from Cloud's head awkwardly, revealing a dazed, barely-conscious Cloud.

  "Oh, good! He's fine!" Tidus breathed out in relief, throwing his arms up in victory. "Crisis-averted, people!"

  "Nngh…"

  As he heard Tidus' obnoxious voice echoing through his head, Cloud gradually regained consciousness.

  "How're you holding up, buddy?" Zack wondered with a relieving chuckle, patting his friend's back. "Was that an epic alarm or what?"

  Cloud groaned out in lingering agony, his entire body aching and shivering as he struggled to lift himself of the ground.

  "You're all … dead to me." Cloud wheezed out underneath his breath, refusing to look at them in the eye.

  Squall watched the three from half-way down the staircase, sighing out as he found no enjoyment in the prank.

  "…I think we're done here."

  An hour later…

  Squall, Cloud and Tidus strolled through the city centre, Tidus chatting up a storm whilst Cloud held an ice pack on his head and groggy bags underneath his eyes. Treading behind them silently, Squall had zoned out completely, earphones plugged back in his ears so he could avoid Tidus' constant yapping.

  The city centre was filled with busy locals and visitors – a typical Sunday for the area.

  Numerous shops and restaurants were still open, utilising the opportunity to advertise their plethora of promotions and deals whilst also maximising interest in their wares. In Squall's eyes, the customers were 'suckered in' to the shops like dogs craving for new treats.

  In addition to the crowding shops, the trio could see various street performers showcasing their routines, amazing the audiences that surrounded them. The entertainment on display ranged from extravagant acrobatics, spectacular magic tricks, 'human'-statues, and comedic slapstick performers.

  It felt like the city was thriving like a festival.

  Just then, Tidus and Cloud rushed ahead of Squall, Cloud pulled against his own will whilst Tidus found an event that caught his attention.

  Noticing them rushing off in haste, Squall held back casually, feeling a sense of solitude return to his mind. He swerved between the growing crowds, avoiding any unnecessary confrontation whilst searching for anything of interest.

  However, as he passed the wall of flatscreens through an electronic shop's glass panel, he halted abruptly and faced the familiar face on display. As he watched, a muffled narration from the television echoed in the background, celebrating a special announcement.

  "Today marks the seventeen-year anniversary of Sir Laguna Loire's reign as the president of Esthar." The Anchor Lady described on the channel in a professional tone. "Yesterday, upon celebrating the occasion, Sir Laguna announced that a special stage play would be held in a year's time. Tickets for the planned dates were sold out in minutes with more dates to be announced in due time. Sir Laguna proceeded to state that: 'those who were unable to buy tickets can view the play via live broadcast and other streaming methods...'"

  Squall glared at the screen in bafflement, unable to comprehend his father's sudden announcement.

  (You and your spontaneous announcements...)

  "Wha-aaaAAAH!"

  During that moment, a light, feminine scream echoed throughout the city centre, causing Squall to twist in alert.

  He noticed the girl who screamed immediately … as she headed towards him at an uncontrolled, erratic pace.

  "Wha-?"

  "Watch out! WATCH OUT!"

  It was too late.

  CRASH!

  The girl collided into him, collapsing to the ground upon impact.

  The surrounding crowds watched the situation unfold with curious eyes, no one showing a hint of interest in intervening before the girl collided into Squall.

  "Woof! Woof!"

  What followed was a loud, deep series of barks, causing children and animal-lovers in the crowds to point out to the crumpled pair cheerfully.

  A large, long, brown-furred dog was running around the pair manically and licking Squall's face, overwhelmed with excitement and adrenaline.

  Wiping the dog-drool from his face, Squall eased himself up from the concrete floor with a pained groan.

  (Again…?! Why did this have to happen to me … AGAIN?!)

  Shaking his head, the irritable Squall shook his head as he regained his own bearings. However, no matter his attempts to stand back up, he was pinned down by the girl lying on top of him – one arm wrapped with a dog-lead whilst the other was latched onto him.

  Staring at the situation before him, Squall was left frozen in place, unable to find a viable escape as numerous eyes towered over them.

  Upon clearer inspection, the girl had jet black shoulder-length hair, areas seemingly highlighted with a fair caramel tone. She had soft, pale skin and – upon what Squall noticed before the fated collision – dark, brown eyes. Finally, she was wearing a blue sleeveless sweater, a black tank-top, and black, knee length cycling shorts.

  "Nnngh…! Angelo..." The girl moaned out as she regained her bearing, sitting up on top of Squall obliviously. "Would you calm down … for once in your life."

  "Woof!"

  The dog barked in response to the name, bouncing and wagging its tail ecstatically. It then perched as though awaiting further instructions from its master.

  As the girl sat up, she glanced down and gasped out immediately, realising she was sitting on Squall.

  "I-I'm so sorry!" The girl apologised as she shuffled off from Squall's abdomen, grasping his hand instinctively. "Angelo gets excited a lot when she's in a crowded place. Are you hurt?"

  "I'm fine…" Squall murmured back as he sat up, his cheeks red with fluster. "Nothing you should be concerned about."

  He instantly slid his hand from her grasp awkwardly, struggling to hold eye-contact with her. Squall then lifted to his feet, holding his other hand reluctantly to help the girl up.

  At first, the girl hesitated before accepting his assistance, feeling embarrassed by the ordeal. However, as she returned to her feet, the dog leaped up and latched onto the two eagerly.

  "He's very … jumpy." Squall commented irritably, attempting – yet failing – to push the dog away from him.

  "She."

  The girl then corrected him sternly, acting as though she was insulted by Squall misgendering the dog.

  "Right, sorry. 'She's' a very excitable dog." Squall murmured in acknowledgement.

  Just then, her gasped out in surprise, pointing at him as though she recognised him. Squall leant back reactively, feeling conscious of his personal space.

  "Wait a minute … you're Squall Leonhart, right?" The girl asked him in abrupt curiosity.

  "Yeah … what about it?" Squall answered awkwardly.

  "Oh…! Nothing much, I just see you around at the Academy quite regularly." The girl then smiled cheerfully. "Also, I hear you're one of the 'Fangirls' prime targets."

  Squall's eyes widened in sudden alert.

  "You … you're not one of them, are you?" He questioned cautiously, debating whether to hold his ground or run away whilst he had the chance.

  "Nope! There're a few of them in my class so I overhear their gossiping every now-and-then." The girl admitted amusedly, laughing at the thought of associating herself with such harpies. "Honestly, those girls need a new hobby."

  "I see…"

  Squall murmured with an uncertain tone, glaring at her with judging eyes as the alarm bells were still ringing in his mind.

  "Oh! Could I get a selfie with you?" The girl then requested, rushing to retrieve her smartphone from her pocket. "My best-friend would lose her mind when she sees-!"

  "No."

  In that moment, Squall slipped out of sight through the large crowds, shutting down the girl before she could snap a shot of him.

  Within a flash, he was gone.

  "Ah! Wait, I-! …And, he's gone."

  With she held a firm grasp on Angelo's lead, the girl pouted in disappointment.

  "That guy needs to really lighten up. Isn't that right, Angelo?"

  "Woof!"

  The dog barked in agreement.

  Just then, another female voice called out from the depths of the crowds.

  "Rinoa! Where've you rushed off to…?" The voice called out curiously. "Rinoaaaa!"

  The girl then switched to the direction of the voice.

  "I'm right here, Selphie!"

  The girl – Rinoa – glanced back to the direction of Squall's escape, shrugging her shoulders with a light sigh before leaving to meet up with her friend.

  Afterwards…

  Squall reached an open area, pausing momentarily to catch his breath.

  Although he considered the girl sweet and sincere from surface value, the mention of the notorious 'fangirls' sent a series of nightmarish flashbacks through his mind – forcing him to retreat before he faced the consequences.

  After calming his mind, Squall took in the surrounding area.

  He exited the city centre and was standing on a track leading towards Crescent Lake, free from the claustrophobic crowds. The area was calm, open, peaceful, and full of natural scenery – a perfect place for satisfy his desire for solitude.

  After a further walk along the track, Squall found a nearby bench underneath a small yet sturdy tree to rest his poor feet. Plugging in his earphones, Squall leaned back on the seat in a daze and watched the vast blue sky above.

  After an eventful day, he was able to finally fulfil his initial desire: relaxing in his own headspace without a care in the world.

  Time passed on, the music in Squall's ears shuffling through random tracks of his preferred playlist. People passed him obliviously, taking no notice of his existence as they kept to their own business.

  Squall was in perfect solitude, a calmed smile breaking through his lips.

  And yet … his happiness was only temporary.

  "BOO!"

  "GAH!"

  Squall lurched in abrupt fright, taken aback as a horrific, clown-like face shot inches from his sights.

  "Hohoo-! Hehehee-! AHAHAHAHAA!"

  The clown-faced trickster bellowed out in a demonic chortle, over exaggerating the laughter as he was successful in his spontaneous jump-scare.

  "My lord, I can't get enough of this! It's all … EXHILARATING!"

  Kefka Palazzo – Dissidia Academy's infamous Art Teacher – was floating in mid-air, clutching his sides, kicking his feet, and laughing manically.

  Any nearby visitors of the Crescent Lake area watched him in absolute terror: children clutching onto their parents whilst bawling their eyes out at the sight of the hovering clown; dogs either barking defensively or whimpering behind the legs of their owners; and other tourists avoiding the path entirely.

  Squall's heart was racing at the sight of Professor Palazzo, unable to prepare himself for the Art teacher's notorious jump-scares no matter the frequency.

  "W-why are you here…?" Squall questioned in a stutter, his body shaking in his seat. "…Pr-Professor Palazzo…?"

  "It's MASTER PALAZZO to dirt like you!" Kefka snarled in an abrupt, menacing tone. "…Or Kefka – if you're so inclined."

  Squall stared at him warily, struggling to find his words as he attempted to regain his composure.

  "…Whatever."

  "How rude…! I just so happen to be – umm… – 'strolling' along Crescent Lake. And then, along my travels, I just so HAPPENED … to see one of my 'prize' students daydreaming on the bench." Kefka answered back casually as he circled above Squall's head in free flow, the tone of his voice inconsistent. "I just HAD to mingle!"

  Squall stood cautiously, wishing he could escape the madman before he was thrown into another unwelcomed event.

  "Hohoo…! Giving me the silent treatment?" Kefka giggled as he hung himself underneath the tree, crossing his arms. "Well, I guess there's … another reason for me to meet you here."

  Squall raised an eyebrow, wondering why Kefka wished to meet him.

  And then, another – eerily lustful – voice spoke up from close behind the unsuspecting Squall.

  "What the pitiful Kefka is trying to say, my dear Squall … is that you're an important player is tomorrow's fated court trial."

  Frozen on the spot, Squall felt a soft hand caressing his cheek, causing a cold shiver to erupt up his spine

  "WHO ARE YOU CALLING 'PITIFUL', YOU LONESOME HAG?!" Kefka bellowed in retaliating fury, his menacing insanity breaking through his trickster persona momentarily. "Hee-ahahahaa…! I was just getting to the GOOD part, my … lovely Ultimecia."

  Just then, Squall broke through his frozen state and twisted to meet the figure standing behind him.

  Ultimecia – Dissidia Academy's History Teacher – stood tall and gracefully as she emerged before Squall. With her long, silky-silver hair; golden, serpent-like eyes; and strong, red-toned lips: she emulated the appearance of a corrupted angel. Additionally, her attire consisting of a long, feathered blood-red robe; numerous unique-shaped tattoos; and … nothing else.

  Her cleavage was exposed and lacked any undergarments.

  Most men – especially Squall's father – would struggle to resist her mature charm.

  However, from Squall's perspective: she was a possessive witch.

  "You're being hunted down, Squall." Ultimecia then warned him smoothly. "A fellow classmate believes you were involved with the recent incident to some capacity. He's stubborn and will stop at nothing to shift the blame on you."

  "Hohohoo … AHAHAHAHAA! It's simply thrilling watching the CHAOTIC drama unfold!" Kefka yelled out energetically, hovering overhead as though he was swimming in the air. "I can't wait for more!"

  "…And why should I care about how he feels?" Squall questioned with a snarl, him mind pinpointing the exact 'classmate'. "The incident has nothing to do with me."

  "Hmhmhmm…! Are you sure, boy?" Ultimecia queried curiously, gazing into his eyes as she licked her lips. "To me, you are a key importance to the entire case – even more than anything would believe. It's only a matter of time until the cat's out of the bag and the Academy find's their truth."

  Squall stepped back reactively, wary of the witch's eerie approach.

  "Why does it concern you?" He retorted in a tense tone.

  "We are merely SPECTATORS of the event … Heyahhahaa…! All we want is to add a bit more 'fun' to the case." Kefka explained in his quirky approach. "Will you be so kind as to … create a bit more CHAOS for us? …Pretty pleeeeeaaaase…?"

  "And we don't mean 'help us' … we simply want you to get involved." Ultimecia added, giggling alongside Kefka.

  Squall fell silent.

  "And … if I were to participate…" Squall then murmured, considering his options. "What's in it for me?"

  "Oh-hoh! I like your thinking!" Kefka leapt up with glee. "Well, don't you worry! We'll reimburse you … considerably. Anything you ask: WE'LL provide! Do you want all the answer to your exams for the rest of the academic year? Would you like some extra recommendations on your future endeavours? Or, my personal favourite: Why not ERADICATE your troublesome tag-alongs?"

  Squall's ear perked up at the suggestions.

  In his mind, his two closest friends situated before him from the dark depths.

  Zidane, devoid of emotion and locked to the chains of his fate, awaited his inevitable fate. Whilst Bartz, his emotions broken and overwhelmed with despair, stood watching his friend helplessly as he was unable to comprehend the damning questions of the incident.

  The two then disappeared into the darkness, causing Warrior of Light and Onion Knight to stand in their place. The duo glared towards Squall with condescending eyes: the Prosecutor offering a hand to strengthen the 'Guilty' verdict; whilst the Defence was prepared to rip Squall's testimonies apart to twist the narrative of the case.

  Accepting the ultimatum, Squall answered with a firm nod.

  "Fine. I'll play along."