Rematch with Seifer

The morning sun in the real world was brighter than the digital one. It cut through the gaps in Olette’s blinds, slicing across the bed where the three of us lay tangled together.

Naminé was the first to move. She was sitting up, wrapped in the sheet, staring intently at her own hand as she opened and closed her fist. She watched the dust motes dancing in the light with the fascination of a newborn. "It smells like rain," she whispered. "And... toast."

Olette groaned, shifting against my side. She blinked open one green eye, then smiled lazily. "That's because the neighbors burn their breakfast every morning." She sat up, stretching. The sheet fell to her waist, exposing her breasts, tan, soft, with light brown nipples that stood proud in the morning cold. Apparently, she took off her shirt to sleep last night. She didn't cover up. She just leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Morning, Master."

"Morning," I murmured, running a hand down her bare back. "Time to get dressed. We have a town to inspect."

Getting ready was a chaotic, intimate affair. Naminé had no clothes, so Olette raided her closet. "Here," Olette said, tossing a bundle of fabric. "This was too small for me anyway."

Naminé pulled on the outfit. It was a white camisole with lace trim and a pale blue flannel shirt that she left unbuttoned, paired with denim shorts that hung low on her slender hips. On Olette, the clothes would have looked tomboyish. On Naminé, they looked oversized and painfully cute, emphasizing how petite she was. She looked at herself in the mirror, touching the denim. "I look like you," Naminé said to Olette.

"You look like the cute version of me," Olette corrected, coming up behind her. Olette was dressed in her usual zipper-heavy cargo pants and orange top, but she stood differently now. Shoulders back, chin up. She wrapped her arms around Naminé’s waist, resting her chin on the blonde’s shoulder. "Ready to see the real world?"

Naminé nodded, leaning back into Olette’s hold. "As long as you hold my hand."

We skipped school. Olette left a note for her dad saying she was helping with "Student Committee Business," which made her giggle as we walked out the door. "I've never skipped before," she admitted, clutching my arm on one side while holding Naminé’s hand on the other. "I feel so... bad."

"You are bad," I smirked. "That's the point."

We walked toward the Market Street. The town was bustling. The trolley dinged, people shouted greetings, the smell of sea-salt ice cream and pretzels filled the air. Naminé was overwhelmed. She kept stopping to look at things, a stray dog, a poster, a crack in the pavement. Olette was patient, explaining everything in a soft voice, clearly enjoying being the guide.

As we neared the Sandlot, the atmosphere changed. The playful noise of the market was replaced by the grunts of exertion and the clack-clack of foam bats hitting each other. The Struggle tournament was coming up, and the local cliques were practicing.

We walked through the archway. The Sandlot was dominated by a raised concrete platform. On it, two boys were sparring. But everyone stopped when we walked in. It wasn't just that a stranger had entered. It was how we entered. I walked down the center of the steps, flanked by two girls. Olette, the responsible, busy-body girl everyone knew, was clinging to my arm with a look of absolute devotion. And next to her was a mysterious, stunning blonde who looked like a porcelain doll.

"Hey!" A voice called out. Hayner and Pence ran over from the benches. "Olette? Where were you? We waited at the station for twenty minutes!" Hayner shouted, looking from me to her. "And who is... wait, who are they?"

Olette didn't let go of my arm. She smiled, cool and unbothered. "This is Ray," she said simply. "And this is Naminé. They're with me."

Hayner bristled. He looked at me, taller, older, radiating a calm authority that made the teenager feel instantly small. "With you? Since when?"

Before I could answer, a shadow fell over the group. The crowd on the platform parted. Seifer walked down the steps.

The leader of the Disciplinary Committee looked exactly like his data counterpart, trench coat, beanie, scar between his eyes, and a permanent scowl of arrogance. He carried his struggle bat like a sword. Behind him trailed his entourage: Rai, the big guy, and Fuu.

My eyes drifted past Seifer to Fuu. She was short, with a silver bob haircut and an eye patch. She wore a blue windbreaker dress. She stood perfectly still, her expression unreadable, her hands clasped behind her back. She noticed me looking. Her single visible eye narrowed slightly. She felt the weight of my gaze.

"Yo," Seifer drawled, stopping a few feet away. He ignored Hayner and focused entirely on me. His instincts were screaming. I could see it in his posture. He puffed his chest out, trying to make himself look bigger. He didn't know who I was, but he knew I was a predator in his territory. "New face," Seifer said, pointing his bat at my chest. "Don't remember giving out any tourist passes today. Y'know?"

Olette stiffened against my arm, but I patted her hand gently. "Just passing through," I said, my voice bored. I didn't move the bat. I didn't even look at it. I looked Seifer dead in the eye. "Nice playground you have here."

Seifer’s eye twitched. The dismissal hit him harder than a punch. "Playground?" he scoffed. "This is my town, pal. We run the disciplinary committee. We keep the peace." He stepped closer, invading my personal space. "And I don't like strangers walking around with one of our girls. She's got chores to do."

"I'm not doing chores today, Seifer," Olette said. Her voice was steady, surprising everyone, including herself. She stepped forward slightly, eyes flashing. "And I'm not yours."

Seifer blinked, taken aback by the sudden rebellion of the "Good Girl." He looked at me again, his grip on the bat tightening. He needed to reassert dominance. He needed to prove he was still the Alpha. "Tough talk," Seifer sneered. "But words are cheap. Around here, we settle things with Struggle."

He tossed his bat into the air and caught it. "You think you're big time?" Seifer challenged, pointing the weapon at me again. "Prove it. One round. You and me."

"Seifer..." Fuu spoke up. Her voice was quiet, monotone. "Don't." She sensed it. She was sharper than him. She sensed the danger radiating off me.

"Quiet, Fuu," Seifer snapped, not looking back. "I'm gonna teach the tourist a lesson."

I finally smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "A match," I repeated. "I don't play for points, kid. I play for stakes."

Seifer laughed, his arrogance returning. "Stakes? You got nothing I want. But fine. If I win, you leave town. You and your little girlfriend." He gestured to Naminé. "And Olette comes back to work."

"And when I win?" I asked softly.

"If you win," Seifer corrected. "Name it. I got the trophy. I got the title."

"I don't want a plastic trophy." I raised a hand and pointed a single finger past Seifer. Right at the girl with the silver hair. "If I win... I take her."

The Sandlot went silent. Fuu’s eye widened. She took a half-step back. Seifer froze. He looked at Fuu, then back at me. "Fuu?" He laughed, shaking his head. "You want Fuu? What, to carry your bags?"

"To do whatever I tell her to do," I said coldly. "She joins my crew. She leaves yours."

Fuu looked at Seifer, waiting for him to refuse. To say that she wasn't property to be bet on. But Seifer was blinded by his ego. He couldn't conceive of losing. To refuse the bet would be to admit fear. "Fine!" Seifer grinned, swinging his bat. "Deal. Get ready to pack your bags, tourist."

He turned and walked up to the platform. Fuu stood there for a moment, looking at Seifer’s back, then she turned her gaze to me. I winked at her. She shivered.

Olette squeezed my arm, buzzing with excitement. "He took the bait," she whispered in my ear. "Destroy him."

"Watch closely, Naminé," I said, releasing the girls. "This is how you rewrite the hierarchy."

I walked up the steps to the platform. The Town's "King" was about to be dethroned.