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Disclaimer: The settings nor the characters (with the except of Yasuo) belong to me in any way, shape, or form Disclaimer: The settings nor the characters (with the except of Yasuo) belong to me in any way, shape, or form. Square-Enix is the rightful owner(s).

*

Shuyin wasn't really what one would call a bad person. He may not have been a saint, but he was nice enough to give someone a place to bed down for the night if they needed it. However, when morning rolled around, he didn't have any qualms about kicking a person out of that same bed. Yasuo found that out the hard way.

"Augh!" yelled the man, having been jolted awake upon smacking into the uncomfortably hard floor. Behind the couch stood Shuyin, his narrowed eyes hinting at his irritation.

"It's noon," he said bluntly, pointing at his alarm clock. "I want my couch back."

"Couldn't you have been a bit more gentle?" Yasuo complained as he slowly sat up and turned his eyes toward the clock. Satisfied at finding that it was indeed noon, he turned his attention to the painful pulse in the back of his head.

Shuyin shook his own head, walking out from behind the couch. "You sleep like a log. 'Gentle' isn't really an option." He made his way over to what had been dubbed the 'kitchen', though it was as much a storeroom for misplaced bits and pieces as any other in the apartment. Opening up a few cupboards, he started groping about for anything that would satisfy his appetite.

"So," he said, pulling a cereal box from the cupboard, shaking it some, then throwing it into the garbage. "I bet I can guess where you were last night."

"Would you quiet down?" Yasuo grumbled, pulling himself back up onto the couch. He balanced his head gingerly in one hand, as if afraid it might break if handled too roughly.

"It's your own fault you're like that," Shuyin chided, moving on to the next cupboard in the line.

"It was better than just going home," Yasuo countered, though with the state he was in, his heart was hardly in the argument. "Do you have the news by chance?"

"Nope. Besides, what makes you think I'd have that garbage you read?"

"There's nothing wrong with them," Yasuo muttered defensively, briefly narrowing his eyes at his compatriot. "They tell more truth than any mainstream news."

Shuyin let it go at that, briefly musing over how someone could take conspiracy newsletters-Yasuo's said media of choice-seriously. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to believe that the Lucans were running illegal underground beet markets and that these would somehow lead to the inevitable shoopuf uprising.

"While we're talking about idiotic ranting," said Shuyin, extracting a banana from the cabinet and peeling it, "you were rambling about something watching us last night. Something about it coming to 'get us,'" A good-natured, though slightly mocking, smirk found its way to Shuyin's face. "What was that about?"

Yasuo squinted at him, then turned his eyes to the floor in concentration. At the same time, Shuyin caught sight of his equipment bag laying open on the floor, and remembered the two missing Remedies. As he headed into the bathroom to retrieve some replacements, Yasuo finally spoke.

"I think I know what you're talking about," said the man supplied, moving before the door so that Shuyin, who was currently going through the medicine cabinet and first-aid kit, could hear him more clearly. "I read something not too long ago about Bevelle's weaponry. Pretty scary stuff they have. It looks like some of it can even think."

"Another conspiracy theory. Got it," Shuyin responded absently, finally extracting a second Remedy bottle from underneath a bag of gyscal greens (he would later find himself pondering why exactly he had such an item as gyscal greens in his possession, but he was currently distracted). Yasuo gave a frustrated sigh, but let the matter drop.

"So," he said, heading back to the couch and covering his eyes with his hand to block out the offending light coming from the window, "when's our next game?"

"You're already thinking about that?" Shuyin questioned, stuffing the Remedies in his bag and zipping it shut.

"Why not?"

"You know we lost last night. There's no way you could've drank enough to forget about /that/."

Yasuo leaned his head against the couch's backrest, smiling at Shuyin as encouragingly as a man with a hangover could. "Can't do anything about that now. We've got to look forward to winning the next one is all."

"Isn't that what you said last time?" Shuyin asked bitterly, swinging the bag from his hand so it knocked into the wall before quietly settling itself down on the floor. "And the time before that. We haven't won once yet,"

"Come on Shuyin. Cheer up." Yasuo said, waving his hand at Shuyin, quickly ceasing when it began to make him dizzy. "We did better last night than we have been. We can only do better next time, right?"

*

Unfortunately, the following week, an end-of-game scoreboard displaying 4-6 in favor of the opposition made a pretty good argument to the contrary. Comments of a losing streak drifted about the locker room, succeeding in making the environment even more crushingly depressing. It didn't help that when Yasuo and Shuyin pushed open the doors to the hallway, they could hear the echo of the commentator's remarks, which mirrored rather closely the ideas of those still in the locker room. Then again, everyone was probably thinking the same thing by that time.

"So much for your optimistic thinking," Shuyin grumbled, letting the door bang shut behind him.

"I never said which next time I was talking about," Yasuo defended. "Remember, we've got quite a few games left. We're bound to win sometime." Resting an elbow on Shuyin's shoulder, Yasuo gave the blonde a smirk. "And how about next time you try to avoid getting kicked in the head. It makes you one lousy pass." Not particularly pleased with the accusation, Shuyin was moments from giving Yasuo a head beating of his own-out of frustration if nothing else-when a hand gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me? Shuyin?"

Looking over his shoulder, Shuyin halted mid-step. Beside the door, adorned in her white robes and obstructing hood, was Lenne. Her head was bowed, hiding even the slightest glimpse of her face-she was definitely justified; though the crowd in the hall was basically non-existent, it would only take one of them to draw a huge crowd if anyone were to see her. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, fidgeting with something hidden from view by her sleeve.

From behind him, Shuyin could feel Yasuo's curious eyes boring into the back of his head. With a hasty, "One second," to Lenne, he turned to face his all-too inquisitive cohort.

"Who might that be?" Yasuo asked slyly, his smirk showing no sign of departure.

"A friend," Shuyin replied curtly. "Look, I'm going to stick around for a few minutes. Go ahead and leave."

"You're ditching me?" Yasuo asked, a very unconvincing look of mock hurt upon his face.

"You'll get over it." Shuyin retorted, shoving Yasuo toward the stairs and turning back toward Lenne. As Yasuo disappeared up the steps, Shuyin could have sworn he heard a sarcastic, "/Sure. /Friends," but chose to ignore it.

"Yes?" he said to Lenne, his attention now focused upon her.

"I forgot to thank you the other day," she said, taking a step closer so that the hood would do less to hinder her. "Also, I needed to give this back to you," She extended her hand out to him, revealing the Remedy bottle he had given her before.

Shuyin blinked, briefly giving her a confused look. It was just a cheap glass bottle that he could hardly do more with than throw away. Not really something worth her time to return. Nonetheless, he quickly gathered his composure and took it from her, holding it gracelessly about the neck. "How's your burn?" he asked, gesturing vaguely toward her.

"Gone," she said, pulling back her hood slightly to show him. Sure enough, there was no burn that he could see; merely a pair of brown eyes and a small smile. However, they quickly disappeared behind the offending white cloth once again when the locker room door opened. The team flooded out, cramming the thin hallway and bringing the lingering stench of sweat and fatigue with them.

"Well," said Lenne, talking as quietly as possible over the din. "I should go. It was nice seeing you again." With the scantest flash of a smile from behind the white fabric, she carefully started to make her way towards the stairs leading to the lobby, an apology leaving her lips every other moment or so. However, before she was halfway there, a careful tug on her forearm brought her attention back to Shuyin.

"When you have time, do you think you could explain a few things to me?" he asked, following her sluggish movements between the many surrounding bodies.

"What?"

"Well, what happened before. What's really going on with Bevelle. Why are the summoners involved. That sort of thing."

Lenne paused for a moment, silent until she reached the bottom step. Chilled air from the lobby rushed down the stairway to cool any exposed skin, a desirable alternative to the heat of the corridor.

"Well," she said, slowly ascending the staircase with Shuyin at her side. "I'm not really the best person to tell you." She paused. "But. . .I've got time now, if you do."

*

"So that's what this is all about? Machina?" Shuyin asked. Though he had gotten use to grand-scale stupidity (due almost entirely to current events), he was still slightly taken aback by the simplicity of the situation.

"Well, yes," Lenne responded, pausing for a moment to let someone impatiently shove by. By now, the pair were several blocks away from the dome, meandering through the crowded streets and allowing themselves to be jostled about by those individuals who were certain they had somewhere to be at 10 o'clock at night. At the same time, Lenne was piecing together an explanation for Zanarkand's current misfortune. It had not been a short tale, but when boiled down to its basic concepts, it became disturbingly simple: Bevelle wanted Zanarkand's machina.

"Don't they have machina of their own?" Shuyin asked, stepping to the side to allow Lenne room to squeeze by a large group moving in an annoyingly languid fashion. "They are a machina city, right?"

"Yes, but Bevelle's aren't as advanced as what we have, and it would be far too dangerous to give it to them." Lenne said, absently tugging at the sleeve of her robes. "Bevelle specializes in war machines, which is why they want our machina. If we ever gave it to them, they would be nearly unstoppable. They'd wipe us out, and then no city in Spira could defend themselves against that kind of power."

For a moment, neither spoke as they made their way through the chattering crowd. It wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling that came with that knowledge, and it did quite a good job of instilling discomfort in the both of them.

"So," Shuyin finally spoke up, turning to Lenne. "Where do you fit in in all of this?"

"Me? Well, you know about the summoners," Lenne responded. "They've been protecting Zanarkand for as long as I can remember. We just have a little more to deal with than the last few have had." She followed this with a smile and a small shrug, as if the weight of defending a country at war was on par with remembering to feed one's pet fish every morning.

"And you do all of Zanarkand's defending?" said Shuyin, entwining his fingers and cradling them behind his head, the look in his eyes a cynical one. "Isn't that a lot to put on you?"

"No, no. Zanarkand has troops if things get out of control. So far, Bevelle has just been sending warning attacks." She explained. "We've been able to handle them all right. Besides, we have the guardians." As the final word was leaving her lips, her tone-for but a split second-change to something rather melancholy. At the same time, Shuyin noticed a gentle downturn in her brow and the edges of her lips. However, by the time he had turned to face her fully, her features had returned to normal, leaving the man more than a bit perplexed.

"The guardians?" he asked, still wary of any changes in her expression. However, when a smile turned her lips, he grudgingly accepted a trick of the light as the culprit.

"The guardians are people who protect the summoners," she explained, tapping her fingers together absently. "They aren't experts in combat or anything. They're just normal people, usually our relatives or close friends. Really, they're almost in more danger than we are." She followed this remark with an apologetic look in her eyes, and Shuyin had to wonder who she was apologizing to. "They know a few things though, like how to swing a sword or a few simple spells. Whenever there's an alarm, they always come out to help us."

Again, Shuyin spotted the look of dejection in her eyes and upon her face, and quickly jerked his head to get a better look. However, by the time he had done so, it was gone once again. In its place was a brow creased with confusion. "Hm?"

"Nothing," he responded, though his quizzical gaze remained a moment longer than he wished it to before turning away. A minute ticked by, the uncomfortable silence reestablished, the two listening to the jumble of conversations around them. Shuyin was able to catch something about Barbutas and turnips before Lenne spoke up again.

"I'm sorry, I've talked too much about myself," she said. After a pause for contemplation, she said, "That was a really good game tonight. Your team played well,"

Bewilderment quickly distorting his features, Shuyin stopped in his tracks. However, after receiving a reward for his lapse (in the form of nearly being knocked over by the person behind him and being quietly cursed at for a few moments afterwards), he promptly regained his stride and turned a confused eye toward Lenne. "Good? We lost."

"Only by two points," Lenne pointed out, "and you played really hard. It was a very good game."

"Maybe," Shuyin responded, his eyes scanning the chipped concrete below his feet. "But just playing hard doesn't amount to much when our season is 0-4."

"Well...I suppose," said Lenne, somewhat disheartened. She turned her eyes up toward the sky, black and starless as a result of the overpowering light of the city. "I should be getting home soon, but can you tell me when you're next game is? I'd like to come watch."

Turning an eye toward her, eyebrow raised, Shuyin asked, "You want to watch us lose?"

"No." said Lenne, a cautious, gentle smile lighting her face. "I want to be there when you win."

Though his brow did not move from its elevated position, he couldn't help but mirror her smile. It may have been a naive thing to say, but it was nonetheless a kind gesture (which was slowly starting to become a pattern with her). "I'll ask Nirui at our next practice," he answered, "Now, where do you live? I'll walk you home."