Chapter Text
Basic training, you remember, was hell. You were made to do sometimes outright ridiculous exercise routines, rain or shine, the obstacle courses were hell, the training drills worse– not to mention the constant demeaning and menacing from your drill sergeant.
Still, you managed to make friends with at least one person.
He was a bit scrawny to be a soldier, you remember, but at least he was pleasant to look at. He was something of a joker, too, always cracking dark jokes when he could fit them in. You remember, too, that in spite of looking more like a toothpick than a proper soldier, he did phenomenally in his physical training as well as his written exams. It was something you envied, to be honest.
You just couldn’t remember his name to save your life. Was it Piangi? Pluto? Something with a ‘p’, you remember that much…
“[name],” he said, bringing you back to the present as he waved his hand in front of your face.
“Huh? What?” You blinked out the last of your reminiscing as you looked up at him from your seat.
“I said, glad we’re not at the front lines, huh?” He cocked his head to the side, a bit of a smile on his face. “Heard it was hell out there from one of the generals.”
“Yeah,” you said, finally. “You know… I’m worried we’re the bad guys. Nothing is changing under the Emperor’s rule. You notice that?”
Your friend nods quietly. “You’re right,” he mutters finally, after a moment of silence. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I came here to change things for the better, not make them worse.”
“Me too,” you reply. “I wanted to, you know… level the playing field for everyone.”
“Honestly? I came here just to make sure I stay fed and clothed.” He takes a sip from his issued tin mug, wincing at how bitter his drink was. He looked around and then, stealthily as he could, added a few more sugar cubes to his drink. You smile a little– so he has a sweet tooth. You honestly couldn’t help it– in a way, it was almost cute.
You frown a little at that line of thinking. Oh no. Don’t tell me I’m developing feelings for someone whose name I can’t even remember.
Before he could even get in another sip of his drink, a higher-ranking soldier marches to where you two sit. “Sergeant Palazzo,” the man says. So that’s his name, you think. “You’re wanted back at General Christoph’s tent.”
“Oh, crap,” Kefka spits out. “What did I do this time?” You bite back a chuckle, but can’t help a smile.
“Not for trouble,” the man says, “this time. Come on, now. No lollygagging.”
“I’ll be back, [name],” Kefka tells you reassuringly. “Make sure no one drinks my coffee.”
“Roger that,” you reply, mock-saluting Kefka. Off he goes on the heels of the officer that summoned him. You sigh, resting your chin on your hand as you pick at your rations. Something about him makes you feel… fulfilled, perhaps? But how could that be? It’s not like you and him are–
You stop yourself there, pursing your lips. This is ridiculous. You ranked, what, 40th in the exams? Kefka was orders of magnitude ahead of you; even if you were inclined towards him, he was way out of your league. You put your focus on eating, shoveling rather plain food into your mouth. It takes your mind off of things for a little, which you’re grateful for. You don’t need to think about him, the way he smiles when he cracks a joke– the way his smile reaches up to his eyes; you don’t need to remember all of the times he was there to lend an ear to your problems during basic training.
And yet, here you are, thinking of those things.
You set down your silverware and sigh. Perhaps it’s infatuation, after all. You rest your head on your hand, looking ahead. This isn’t fair, you think to yourself. Why couldn’t it have been someone from home that I could come back to? Why did it have to be someone that could die at a moment’s notice? Why–
Kefka takes his seat in front of you, barely containing a grin. “Guess who just got promoted?”
“Oh, fuck,” you exclaim in surprise. “I never saw you rising past Private 2, what with all of the trouble you make!”
“You have no faith in me, [name]!” Kefka takes another sip of his coffee.
“I do so have faith in you,” you reply. “I just know how you are.”
“’nd how’s that?” He cocks his head to one side with a sly smile, as if daring you to say exactly what’s on your mind.
And to be honest, you have a lot on your mind when it comes to him.
What comes out of your mouth is, “That you’re a little shit.” What’s on your mind is, That you’re too good for this place, that you could change the course of history if you were in charge.
Kefka doesn’t seem to notice your dishonesty, but chuckles nonetheless. “Everyone says that, you know.”
“Because it’s true.”