In a sense, the scene Jacob had come across with Zack and Juls shouldn’t have been much of a surprise, considering who they were expecting to see here. Yet, seeing the smaller Vivi down on the ground due to Seifer. He could feel his eyes narrow in disgust at it. Seeing Julia already making her way over towards Vivi, Jacob started to walk in the same direction to stay close. Stepping beside Zack, he places a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eye and nodding to him to indicate he’s got his back if need be, before continuing on.

Around halfway to his sister, he finds himself stopping, as his eyes look over to Rai and Fuu standing off to the side.“Oi,” he dryly calls out to them, turning his head slightly to lock his eyes on them. “Are you two honestly just going to let this continue to one of your own? He’s not going to learn anything like this.”

"He made it through the preliminaries, didn't he?" asked Seifer with a smirk on his face, "You think he would have managed that without my helping him in practice?" he sounded like a jerk, but... he did have a valid point on that one.

"Yeah, lighten up!" said Rai, unflinching in his loyalty to Seifer, "Seifer's just usin' a 'sink or swim' method, y'know?"

"Tough love." said Fuu in her usual cold and pragmatic tone while pointing a finger in Vivi's direction.

"So what'll it be, Vivi?" asked Seifer, who hadn't done anything to stop Droka or Julia. As far as he knew, they weren't Struggle Combatants like Zack or Jacob usually were, so he had no reason to antagonize them. Vivi, on the other hand... "You gonna man up and tough it out? Or would you rather get coddled by these lamers? I've got my own training I could be focusing on right now, so you'd better make up your mind." And there it was. An ultimatum. Seifer clearly had what he considered better things to do with his time and so now it was up to Vivi to decide what he wanted to do, "I guess you could spar with Chicken-Wuss, but I wouldn't rely on him if I were you. Seeing as how I trounced him last year."

"Replay!" Fuu taunted.

"Now you're talking!" Seifer pointed his struggle bat in Zack's direction, taking his infamous stance, "You lamers think you know this sport better than I do? Then why don't you step up here and prove it?"

---

"Hmph." Zack let out a low, rumbling growling sound. He could have turned his back in the moment, but he wouldn't have put it passed Seifer to take a swing at him while his back was turned. Plus, there was a sense of honor and pride on the line; if he walked away then, he would never live it down. He retorted to Seifer's gesture in kind, holding his weapon before him in a frontal guard position. He glared at the trio of Seifer, Fuu, and Rai. "Don't start with me about 'tough loves.' You sure as hell can dish it out, but I doubt you've had to experience a scratch of it."

He focused his gaze squarely on Seifer, and continued. "Last year was a long time ago. It's high time you were reminded of exactly where I come from."

@Double@Stylobilly@Spectral@Wayward

"If the... quote on quote 'training method' you were employing with Vivi was any indication, he managed to qualify in spite of you, not because of you." Droka stated bluntly as he turned towards Seifer for a moment. Taking a second to check the time of day, Droka took a deep breath before he took a gamble to show just how serious his words were. The way he was standing, the sun was behind him and there was a building between the two of them, but his hand still shook slightly as he reached up and pulled his tainted glasses down to expose his bare eyes to the bully... even if he needed to squint them due to how bright the world around him was.

His heart started to beat quicker, his breathing started to get deeper and faster while his skin felt like bugs were darting across it as panic started to take hold. Anyone seeing him would easily be able to recognize that he was terrified and clearly fighting the urge just to put the glasses back on... and all those present would easily know why; If the glare of the sun bounced off the wrong thing at this moment, Droka's world would be nothing but pain and he would fall to the world screaming in agony. The fact that he took off his glasses was akin to someone lighting a bunsen burner during science class and then starting to lower their bare hand closer and closer to the flame.

And yet... his sickly, almost inhuman looking gaze was locked on Seifer. "'Sink or Swim' teaching methods are stupid. Either you're expecting Vivi to suddenly be a fighter on your level instinctively, or you're going to be spending all your time 'training' him beating him into the ground to boost your own ego. Either train Vivi how to fight properly, or don't do it at all. Understood?"

He wanted to put the glasses back on. He wanted to stop being an idiot and just put the glasses back on before it was too late but... he needed Seifer to acknowledge his point first. This had become a very painful game of chicken; Seifer had nothing to lose because if the worst happened, everyone here would be able to honestly say that Droka took off his own glasses and thus whatever happened was self inflicted... but he would have to watch Droka crying, screaming and squirming on the ground in pain, alongside everyone else at Sandlot...

Droka really hoped that the phantom pain of his eyes burning wasn't an ill omen for things to come. He had just wanted to get some shopping done and go home where it was nice and dark. Why did he have to freaking care about a friend who had left him behind for this jerk and his jerky cheersquad?!

@Bright_Ops@Stylobilly@Wayward@Double

Always so cocky. Some things never change, Jacob thinks to himself as Seifer calls them out, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand tough love. There is some merit to the concept. But Seifer goes past that line. Seeing how Zack and Droka are reacting to him, it certainly seems they are of similar feelings.

Heading back towards Zack, he speaks to him. “I think it’s clear words won’t do anything here.” His eyes glance back to Seifer for a quick moment, before returning to Zack. “I think you should go ahead and show him what you got. Should be good practice for the tournament, no? Show him he’s got something to worry about.” Giving him a pat on the shoulder, he calls back over to Juls and Dorka.

“I believe it would be best to move to the side for now. Don’t want to get in Zack’s way,” giving a follow me motion with his hand as he moves to the side of the lot. He ultimately takes a spot just off to the side of Fuu. If anything, it’ll allow him to keep an eye on both the spar and Seifer’s followers.

"Forgive me I don't hold my breath." Seifer said in retort. He kept his Struggle Bat pointed squarely at Zack, letting his wrist twist back and forth to cause the weapon to sway almost rhythmically. It was a stance he developed for the purpose of letting him parry attacks more easily, and the swaying motion kept his muscles from tightening too much from tension. The movement also tended to make his stance ever-so-slightly more intimidating as well.

"Let's make this quick. First to score a point wins!" and then he lunged forward. His usual M.O. for an opening move was to go in for a quick, straight thrust. There was a trick to this maneuver, however. Sometimes Seifer's lunge remained straight and unswayed, while other times he would hold back at the lost possible second, using the feint as an opportunity to attack from a different angle. Whether this opening lung was straight or a mere feint, was always decided intermittently and in such a way that Seifer's opponents often had no way of knowing which was coming until it was too late.

The "point" that Seifer referred to was common knowledge among those who competed in the Struggle. Struggle matches were based on a point system. Combatants would come at each other until one successfully landed a hit on the other, which would score them a point. Matches were always restarted after every point scored, and the first to score 5 points was the winner. Seifer had apparently decided that a full 5-point match would be a waste of his time, thus his suggestion that this match be decided by a single point rather than five.

---

Droka returned the glasses to his face surprisingly quickly when it became clear that Seifer was too focused on the chance to take a swing at Zack to focus on him. His body continued to shiver as the terrors of what might have been continued to course through his body but... there was something else that was brewing in the depths as well.

He was so sick and tired of being ignored. Fear and terror quickly proved to be a dry tinder as frustration and irritation struck sparks and lit their tainted flames. Deep down, he wanted to scream in fury. To pick up Vivi's struggle bat and charge that arrogant bastard, taking advantage of his focus on Zack and just... pummel him into the ground! But he couldn't, despite wanting too. Seifer was physically stronger then him, as well as pretty damn good with a struggle bat despite his ego making him want to show off all the time. He also had at least two friends who would probably step in if he tried to sneak attack their 'leader', even if he was overdue some solid whacks to the back of the head.

The knowledge that he didn't have a chance of doing anything to Seifer apart from make the bully laugh in his face from his sub par attempts to attack him didn't make the desire to attack go away. In fact, it just made the boiling rage worse as shame and fear just seemed to fuel the blaze further. He honestly wasn't sure if he was still shaking in fear of what might have happened if light had touched his eyes or anger at being completely disregarded as a non entity, but his hands started to clench tightly into fists and he could feel his eyes water as they threatened to tear up.

He hated feeling this way. He didn't want to feel like this. He just... he just wanted to go and leave this whole stupid affair behind him so he could get some shopping and go home and let it all out then pretend like he hadn't wasted his time with the mess but... something bid him to stay despite his desire to go. He had only gotten involved because Vivi was being picked on and... even if Vivi hadn't spent any time with him for a while he still considered him a friend... even if Vivi didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

His eyes covered by tinted glass, he turned his head to look at Vivi... and took a deep breath as he tried to keep the tide of emotion plaguing him out of his voice as he softly asked "Vivi can... can we please just go? I'll help find you a better teacher just... If I stay here much longer I'm going to do something stupid and I don't want to just leave you to get your butt handed to you over and over again because Seifer sucks at explaining things."

@Double

Julia looked on in awe as Droka stared Seifer down with his bare eyes. He really was cool. But things were escalating alarmingly, and she, Droka, and Vivi were standing right in the crossfire for it.

"Really, Vivi," she chimed in, pulling at his sleeve, "Let's at least get off this field. Just because we don't want to invalidate their match, of course!"

She did her best to pull him to the sidelines, assuming Droka would follow suit.

((OOC: Let's see if I've still got the will of the warrior in my RPing))


It was in that moment that Zack's focus fell squarely onto Seifer; all else faded into his periphery, and out of his concern.

He tracked and metered the swaying of Seifer's hand, and the slight wobbling of his baton that came with it; Zack had often wondered how Seifer managed to compensate when making adjustments to his swings. For his own part, however, Zack remained still, yet relaxed enough that he wouldn't tense either. He maintained his own sense of rhythm, albeit through controlled breaths rather than movement of the body. "Fine by me," he retorted, agreeing to a quick one-point match. There was no sense dragging on a full match so soon before the tournament. While it meant getting less of a feel for Seifer's technique, it would also mean that Seifer would get that much less of a feel for what Zack had been working on.

Almost immediately, Seifer made the opening move. Zack had expected so much, as Seifer was usually one to go on the offensive early on. From the year plus of training and observing matches, and recalling his loss in the previous year's tournament, he had come to expect a bag of tricks. Setting himself up for the lunge, Zack shifted his left foot back, and raised his bat up to align with his sternum. But had enough of a sense for Seifer's approach to know not to take the thrust at face value; he liked to feign his movements every so often. It was such a maneuver that had ultimately done Zack in the year before.

Thus, he had been steadily adapting his own technique in the hopes of countering Seifer in that regard. In the past, his method had been to go on the defense. But that had come with the need to anticipate whether or no Seifer intended to follow through with a move, or to go with the fake out. This was often easier said than done. Rather than staying his position in attempting to block or parry, Zack coupled defense with evasion. Within the space he had come to expect the feign, he moved his bat as to deflect the potential jab. In the same motion he pivoted on one foot, offsetting himself to the side opposite Seifer's baton hand.

Provided that his move created the opening he sought from it, he would follow up on his parrying motion with a swing towards Seifer's chest.

In a best case scenario, all of this would land Zack an easy, early end to the match. At worst, Seifer may have read into it and adjusted accordingly. Zack hoped, at the very least, that his move would be enough to put Seifer on a defensive or evasive front, and give himself more control over the match.

It took Droka a moment to notice Julia, let alone what she was doing... but once the idea that she was trying to escort Vivi off the struggle field so that the fight that was about to break out between Zach and Seifer wouldn't spill over and run into them, he silently followed suit.

He didn't trust himself to say anything at the moment, instead focusing on trying to calm his rampant emotions down so that he could function properly again without the risk of either attacking someone or bursting into tears. He wasn't sure which of those he was more concerned about happening, but he felt like if he wasn't careful it could tip in either direction.

@Stylobilly

“Yo! Juls!” Jacob calls out and waves over to his sister and the others. “Come over here! Don’t want to be in the middle of this!”

Having said his words to his sister, Jacob returns his attention towards Zack and Seifer. It was no surprise that Seifer would go on the offensive first. It was his usual style he has seen him use over the last few years after all.

[color=cyan{“Keep on your toes Zack!”[/color] Jacob shouts out in support of his friend. “You got this!”

@Bright_Ops@Wayward@Stylobilly

Seifer didn't lose a single ounce of his confidence. He'd been working on a way to answer a counter like this, and now was as good a time as any to give it a field test. Seifer brought his baton-arm forward to meet the incoming swing from Zack, luckily for him his opening thrust was a feint and so adjusting for a different attack was relatively easy to do. But like with many of Seifer's tactics, this was not something to take at face value. A split moment before his arm's movement, he loosened his grip on the Struggle Bat handle and let it fall into a backhanded grip. This sort of swing could come faster and with less of a tell than fronthanded swings, at the cost of losing some reach and swing power, not that Seifer needed either of those at this moment. A quick change of grips like this was actually the same tactic that had ultimately done Seifer in at the finals last year. Clearly he'd learned from that defeat and decided to "borrow" that strategy for himself. Though not without adding his own modification to it.

There was one final reason for Seifer's preference for holding his weapon straight and forward. It often allowed him to use his baton-arm as a makeshift measuring stick in order to more easily calculate and the reach of his opponent's swings and react accordingly. This was doubly the case for opponents whom Seifer had fought before, such as Zack, since that meant Seifer already had a decent idea of how far Zack could reach with his swings. And so, the speed of the backhanded swing combined with Seifer's method of calculating his opponent's reach made catching Zack's swing with his baton rather easy.

After catching Zack's baton against his own, Seifer used this moment of closeness to attempt the modification he'd made to the strategy he borrowed. The Struggle Bats all had handles that ended in a hook shape. Already holding his bat backhanded, Seifer moved to grab hold of Zack's bat using the hook end of his handle and tried to force the bat out of Zack's hands. A disarmed opponent would make for easy pickings, and an easy win.

A moment... a second... a fraction of a second...

The time in which a Struggle could sway momentum was fleeting, every instant thereof precious if a contestant sought victory.

Zack had banked, somewhat, on a hope that Seifer, as others before him, would sell him short, and as a result be less on his guard than normal; perhaps, Zack wondered, if he hadn't secured a spot going into the final rounds, that would have been more the case. But Seifer was in as good of form as ever, and his ego remained, obnoxiously oversized as it was, far less of a detriment to his sensibility.

As Zack had kept in his awareness, Seifer had gone for the feigned thrust, swiftly diverting his course. He caught the quick shift his opponent's grip. Difficult as it may have been foresee a swing with a back-handed grip, once one was started, there was a brief window in which the defender could adjust for it. Zack took as much advantage of that window of time, in which Seifer's baton needed to make up the slight spatial difference. He abandoned his idea of swinging for Seifer's shoulder; the change in his {Seifer's} stance and relative position rendered that impractical. Zack, despite his best efforts to avoid it, put himself on the defensive.

He swung his baton down, angling it so that his blade avoided the attempted hooking tactic, and instead met his adversary's blade. The distinctive thud of the hard foam blades striking each other resonated between the two for a short span. Not missing a step, Zack made another, minor adjustment. He shifted just enough to put himself in position to keep his opponent in front of him. While doing this, he used his baton to push Seifer's into a twist, rotating counter clockwise from Zack's perspective, or clockwise from Seifer's. The move would serve to disadvantage Seifer's backhand grip by way of pushing his wrist into a less flexible position.

Zack's follow through would be a thrust of his own, pushing the end of his blade towards Seifer's abdominals, while then ducking down a short distance to avoid taking a baton to the face himself.

In a struggle match, any scrap of time mattered. Whether it was a second, or a hundredth of a second. Some called it splitting hairs, but competitors like Seifer, like Zack, and like him knew better. They knew that the tiniest fraction of a second, whether from an advantage or a slip up, meant the difference between them scoring the point, or their opponent. And in high stakes matches? Down to the wire with both combatants at their 4th point and going for their fifth and final point for the win? That also meant the difference between victory and defeat.

The expression on Seifer's face shifted, barely noticeable. His confidence had skipped a beat, and he slipped into a purely focused look. For that seemingly eternal moment, his mind raced, desperate to come up with something, anything, to steal his way out of this mess he found himself in. But there was only one option, and it was one Seifer detested, because he knew from the onset that it would very likely fail. With no more options, Seifer's free hand made a quick and desperate move, reaching over to the handle of his twisting bat. His other hand's grip was losing its edge thanks to Zack's maneuver, and all Seifer had left was a fool's hope that he could switch hands fast enough to hit Zack before he got hit himself.

The moment, seemingly slowed down by the raw tension and Seifer's own trance-like focus, finally sped back up again to normal speed. Two distinct thuds were heard, but not simultaneously. The combatants were both struck by the other, but only one of them was struck fast enough to win the point. Seifer's eyes glanced down at the bat that was now in his left hand. Too slow. The time it took to switch hands was simply too slow to beat Zack's thrust. Not by much, but it was enough.

It didn't take Rai and Fuu long to figure out what had happened and they were quick to chime in, "Er, Seifer's not feeling so hot, ya know?" said Rai, trying not to led the leader's confidence seem too shaken.

"Tournament decides!" it was Fuu, as if these two were trying to invalidate the match. Which they basically were. Seifer, on the other hand, wasn't having any of it.

"Shut it, you two!" he snapped, shooting an angry glare at Rai and Fuu. Was he angry at the loss? Well, no, not really. For one thing, this wasn't an official match. And secondly, one point wasn't enough to determine who the actual better fighter was. No, what Seifer was actually angry at was himself for slipping up and being too slow to recover from it. He glanced down at his bat once again, "Tch... still needs work." he muttered, and then all of a sudden he was walking away. "Sorry Vivi, but I can't afford to lag behind in my own practice any further than I already have. You're on your own now."

In all this, Vivi hadn't said a word. Earlier, Seifer had demanded he choose between staying with him or not but... what had just happened was enough for Seifer to make the decision for him it seemed. And he had also been ignoring Droka, which honestly made him feel even worse about this whole thing. Should he just quit? Drop out? He looked down at his own bat, as if weighing the option, "Um... I think I wanna be alone for a little while, I need to think." he said to Droka, finally not ignoring him anymore, "I'm sorry... this, this is all my fault." and then he just took off running. And with Seifer (along with Rai and Fuu) long gone now, that left the four classmates there in the sandlot now.

---

The last split second of the short match came and went through Zack's notice like a flash of lightning. In what might as well have been a simultaneous instance, his thrust met Seifer's abs, and Seifer's blade, now in its owner's left hand, struck Zack comparably on his side. To the competitors, the result was clear enough: Zack's thrust had just barely connected ahead of Seifer's swing; the feeling of his baton pressing against its intended recipient coursed along Zack's arms like a grace note ahead of Seifer's landing against his obliques.

On instinct, Zack rebounded and retreated from his hit; the rules of the Struggle dictated that after each point scored, a match was put on a quick pause, during which the point was declared by the referees (if not contested for review), and the combatants reset to begin another bout. This was, in the name of the spirit of the competition, a measure to dissuade participants from simply swinging endlessly at their opponent after landing a hit, and allowed both sides to refocus.

Zack, like Seifer, was left shocked and dumbstruck. He hadn't expected the match to end the way it did; he had conditioned himself to leave his expectations of victory behind him when he entered the ring for a match. His heart pounded, racing from the sheer adrenaline of that last instance. It was a feeling which, for any other competitor, would have given way to elation and celebration. Even in the context of a training session, the average combatant would be joyous in their success... But Zack and Seifer weren't average combatants... To that extent, Zack had come to see at least shred of respect from Seifer's end, even if he didn't always verbalize it, and in turn, he respected Seifer as a competitor.

Zack, just like Seifer, was leaving this spar knowing full well the score that would have to be settled in the Tournament.

In the shocked disposition of his mind, still processing the match, Zack was unaware of either Seifer or his lackeys as they commented and quipped about the match. His gaze, thoughtful yet detached, drifted off to the far corner of the sandlot, where something peculiar caught his attention: a familiar, stern-faced visage, half-shrouded in the shadow of far alleyway, stood, glaring towards him with narrow eyes through a solitary bang of auburn hair. Perplexed, curious, somewhat nervous, and perhaps even afraid of the seeming apparition, Zack edged toward the alley. He took a handful of steps forward, hoping to get a better look. He rubbed his eyes; he couldn't believe them... It couldn't be him... not after the years since...

He opened his eyes only to see that the figure in the alleyway had seemingly vanished without trace or notice from anyone else. Disparaged, Zack breathed and sighed, and then took a knee to gather himself up. "No. It couldn't have been," he whispered. "I'm just stressing is all. Seeing things."

@Double

For his part, Droka didn't care about the outcome of the spar that was happening between Zack and Seifer. He had never really cared about the sport of the Struggle in the first place, but to each their own. Instead his focus had been on Vivi, even as he glanced towards the match more to see if Seifer was going to be strutting around like a peacock in victory or not.

The answer, as it turned out, was no. Zack managed to pull off a hit barely before Seifer's landed in turn.

What mattered to Droka was when Vivi finally spoke... and while he understood his words, Droka couldn't help but feel somewhat conflicted as he watched his old friend run off to be by himself. He wanted to run after him but... he also understood that sometimes what one needed was a bit of time alone as well and he didn't know which situation this actually was. Making the decision to give Vivi some space for now and to check up on him a little later after he had some time to himself, Droka reached up to scratch the back of his head through his hair before turning to look at the others who were still in the Sandlot with him.

"Well... that happened. Sorry but I do actually need to buy some things for my mother so I do need to get going... I'll go talk with Vivi after he's had a chance to get some space and calm down, but if you guys see him before I do... could you please let him know that he's not alone? I don't want him beating himself up for something that wasn't his fault." He asked softly of them. Not pleading because the situation wasn't that dire or anything, but it was clear that there was some concern in his tone for Vivi's well being.

For a moment, silence seemed to have come to the sandlot after two loud thuds rang out. Jacob blinked, his brain having to finish processing what just happened before him. One second… two seconds…

“…WOOOO!” A cheer roars out of Jacob. “Way to go Zack!” Jacob had to admit to himself that he was on edge as he watched the fight. Several times it seemed like one of them had the blow, only to escape from being struck.

Hearing the voices of Rai and Fuu, Jacob could only just turn his head and raise a brow at Rai’s attempt to downplay Seifer’s defeat. Props to them for supporting their boss and all, but a loss is a loss and making excuses for it is pretty sad, if not insulting towards not just Zack, but Seifer too. And judging by said boy's voice, it’s likely he felt somewhat the same.

As Jacob saw Seifer, along with Rai and Fuu quickly moving to follow, leaving the lot, he couldn’t help himself as he gave a cheeky wave to their retreating backs and called out in response to Fuu’s earlier comment with a grin, “See you all at the Tournament~!”

His grin slipped a little though, as Vivi seemed to be taking it hard at losing his rough training with Seifer. The poor guy sounded miserable as he said an apology before he too ran off, though he was alone. With him gone too, all who remained were the four of them.

The sound of Droka’s voice broke him from his thoughts. Hearing what the other boy had to say, Jacob simply offered him a nod. “No worries. We’ll let him be for now. And should we stumble upon him at a later time, I’ll pass along what you said.” He flashes a quick thumbs up, before seeing that Zack seemed to have drifted away a little bit, his focus seemingly locked on to one of the alleyways. “Hey Jules, we should go check on Zack. He seems to be out of it.”

Approaching his friend, Jacob clasps a hand onto Zack's shoulder, who now was on his knees. “You alright there? You’re looking like you saw a ghost or something.” Jacob took the moment to look where Zack had been gazing before, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him.

A hand set upon his shoulder, and Zack shuddered in shock; he hadn't realized how far gone his head had been, and he all but forgotten that Drokka, Julia, and Jacob were there with him.

"Oh." He cocked his his head around to see Jacob standing at his side. "Yeah." he continued hesitantly. "Just..." he gestured towards the shadows in the alleyway. "Probably just the light playing tricks on me. That match... wasn't expecting it to end so soon, less the way it da- I mean did." He stood up, giving one last glance towards the alleyway. He shook his head, and turned to look at his friends. "Seifer wasn't at his best," he said with a sigh. "He won't take this lying down either. I need to up my training if I want to have a chance at the Tournament."

He looked around the Sandlot; other Strugglers, most of whom were eliminated and getting the jump on next year, were starting to fill into the area. "Looks like there won't be much of a shortage of sparing partners," he added hopefully. "What do you say we get a few matches in?"

Shortly after Zack had turned around, it happened. An object appeared to come blazing into The Sandlot from the alleyway he had just turned away from. It was... a ball? No ordinary ball, though, this one appeared to be a combination of blue and white and bore the insignia of a particular sport. The sport in question was one that was normally big in the summer, since it was a game that was played in the water. So why anyone would be playing with a blitzball at this time of year was anyone's guess. But there it was, a blitzball screaming in from beyond the alley and appearing to be on a curveball trajectory leading right to the back of Zack's head.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Watch out, man!?" cried a particular voice. Unfortunately only one of two things would happen. One, the ball would bean Zack right in the head and then ricochet back into the waiting hands of the guy it belonged to. Or two, the ball would manage to miss Zack's head and instead hit a nearby lamp post only to ricochet back to the waiting hands of the ball's owner.

Speaking of which, the owner of the bitzball had come bounding up and seemed to effortlessly catch the ball when it ricocheted back in his direction. He had a whincing, apologetic expression on his face as he walked up closer to the group, "Hehe, uh... sorry about that, man." he said with an apologetic grin, "The ball just kinda... got away from me for a second there, yeah?" he scratched the back of his head with his free hand before reaching it out.

"I'm Wakka, but uh... maybe you knew that already, yeah?" he wasn't a complete stranger. Wakka was known around town as the captain of the blitzball team, the Twilight Town Aurochs. Just as the Struggle was the big time sport during the fall and winter months, Blitzball was the rising popular sport played during the warmer spring and summer months. Though it seemed a little odd for someone to apparently be practicing this far into the off-season. Then again, maybe Wakka was the team captain for a good reason? "Oh! Right! Almost forgot about why I came up here! Ha ha! I'm trying to set up my own game booth for the Festival this year! I call it... Blitzball Shootout! A competitor gets a limited number shots to try and get the ball past me into the goal. If they do, they win! If not, well, better luck next time, yeah?" he chuckled, "And the prize you win depends on how many shots it takes for you to score the goal. Cool, yeah? Problem is... the festival committee won't give me a booth slot until I've tested the game out to make sure it's safe and fair and stuff. Tried to get my buddy to help me out, but he's so wrapped up in his Struggle trainin'. Been at the beach all morning since before sunrise. Anyway, I was hopin' I could find someone that could help me with this..." he gave the four a suggestive look, hoping they'd take the hint and maybe offer a hand?

"And uh, hey, I know how to turn the game into a way to help your Struggle training, too! So if ya help me, there'd be that in it for ya, yeah? Might be a good idea, the champ's been using my idea as part of his training regiment, ya know!" he said with a wink. He wasn't lying either. His buddy, otherwise known as last year's Struggle Champion, had indeed used his Blitzball Shootout idea to help his training.

---