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Final Fantasy Tactics - Remnants

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Coccum Crystallis - Remnants

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He supposed he should've knocked.

But Alma really might've been more aware after living with him for three months on. Ramza always respected a locked door, but gave no thought to a cracked one, as they shared their lives like they shared the tea kettle. His thought was merely to hurry her up before class started at her combat training academy, but a flash of white lace and a high-pitched scream ended that notion like a lance to the head. "Ramza, get out!" the girl cried, covering her chest as she shut the door, astoundingly, by thrusting a leg towards it at an angle resembling a gymnast.

Ramza stood frustrated against the wall of the small kitchenette, crossing his arms and bemoaning his issues with women, the last frontier in his search for truth. He questioned why Alma was bashful of her brassiere after more than three months of close, intimate contact with him. The truth was, they had just begun a romantic relationship, sending convention and propriety to the winds, at least as far as their homeland of Ivalice was concerned. Yet when the breeze blew through the city streets, his sister instinctively held her skirt down before him, perhaps preserving the last remnants of her sisterly role just as she preserved her modesty.

A minute more passed, and Alma emerged carefully from the room, securing the last buttons on her school uniform coat. She looked down at her plaid skirt as if blaming the garment for her vulnerability, a notion made all the more clear when she pulled it down further to cover her legs. "I'm decent now, brother," she murmured, peering furtively at him though her lashes.

Ramza sighed, uncrossing his arms to appear less hostile. "I'm sorry, Alma," he told her, moving a little closer. "I didn't wish to shame you."

"It's alright." Alma raised her head, revealing pink-tinted cheeks that brought out the paleness of her skin. "You were just checking on me."

"And as your brother, you know you can trust me to do so," he cut in, trying not to make his statement sound too much like a lecture. "You're my beloved sister, and I would not seek to press any advantage with you."

Alma nodded as she scuffed a shoe against the wood floor of their apartment.

To relieve the mounting tension, the young man took the opportunity to address the central issue. "After all, if it's just me..."

"It's no longer the same," she interrupted, shaking her head and sending her ponytail flopping about.

"Eh?" Ramza put his fists on his hips, wondering where she was going with this. "Aren't we close as ever? I don't understand your point."

"Ramza, it's true," she insisted, her arms falling to her sides. "You have become so much more these past few months. Can you not see it?"

"Yes, we have become...closer." Ramza fumbled with the best way to describe their budding attraction. "Surely that means you would become more comfortable with me rather than less."

"Oh, Ramza!" she huffed in frustration, turning her back on him with a flurry of her skirt. "You just don't understand a girl's heart.

Ramza stepped back, astonished at this accusation. "A-Alma...!"

As if embarrassed of her prior outburst, the girl relaxed her posture with a sigh. "It's been nary a month since we sought to be as man and woman," she began, looking towards Ramza's old blue armor hanging over their bed. "In our homeland, we saw each other only thrice a year, if that, and then it was as brother and sister."

Through Ramza still faced the back of her head, he could almost feel the blush coming to her face. "Now, your eyes are on me every day, seeing through me," Alma continued, her voice growing quieter, yet heavier. "It's everything I wished for, but startling too."

Ramza regarded her form for a moment more, and thought he understood. Alma wanted her brother to see her as a woman, but was scared at how quickly the prospect was becoming a reality. Infrequent, chaste meetings with Ramza were the norm in Ivalice; now, they shared the same bed with naught but nightclothes between them. They had not slept together yet, and it was instinct for Alma to preserve her last vestiges of womanhood from the man she now knew he was.

With one recourse available, Ramza walked over to his sister and soulmate, turning her around to face him. "I'll take care of you, Alma," he soothed her, rubbing her shoulders through her coat. "In all ways."

She closed her eyes, her skin pricking at his touch. "Ramza..." Unflinchingly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and a slow smile emerged from her trepidation. The young man smiled in turn, stroking his hands along her arms in a manner that was familial, yet fantastic.

As Ramza moved closer, the chime of the kit-cat wall clock sounded from the left of the stove top. Alma's eyes fluttered open, her hand flying to her collar. "Oh Ramza, you were right all along!" she cried, all her troubles forgotten as she grabbed the knapsack on the table. "Let's hurry!"

"You're ready, right?" Ramza asked, although he already trusted her to be so.

Alma grabbed the training sword issued by her dueling instructor. "Take me there, Ramza?" she implored him, securing the blade to her back.

And so it went as Ramza readied his motorbike, an interesting bit of technology that was quite foreign to their homeland. As Alma swung a leg over the saddle behind him, Ramza provided her with the only helmet, which she placed over her head with her ponytail sticking out. Kicking the ignition into gear, the bike was soon rumbling with barely contained eagerness, sending a wave of exhaust billowing along the sidewalk. With Alma's arms around his torso, Ramza rushed out onto the road, zooming ahead through the traffic to make up for lost time.

As he turned the corner leading to the school, Ramza heard a small gasp from behind, and he took a quick look to see if Alma was secure. He was surprised to find her flushed and quite distressed, holding down the back of her skirt as it fluttered haphazardly in the rushing wind. Immediately, Ramza loosened his grip on the throttle, allowing his sister to get a better hold on her skirt and tuck it under her haunches. Once Alma had readjusted herself, she smiled gratefully at him, tightening her embrace once more.

Brother or no, it was Ramza's job to defend Alma's honor, come what way. To that end, the remnants of an earlier time mattered not, for it was all the same for a man who would forever be the knight in his sister's life.
Short fic taking place after Coccum Crystallis (crossover with Final Fantasy Type-0). As Alma gets ready for class at the Peristerium School of Magic, an embarrassing incident causes Ramza to once again thinks about the nebulous nature of their relationship.
© 2016 - 2024 Myst-Knight-Reborn
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yukitokuroya's avatar

Geez, man. Thanks for the link. Nice sequel to the other fic.