Zell hopped from foot to foot, occasionally stopping to unleash a round of punches at his invisible enemy. His jabs were in quick succession, concentrated and precise. People often looked at him oddly when he shadow boxed in public areas. Or, like Squall, they would simply turn and leave due to discomfort. So, it was especially gratifying doing this in the privacy of his dorm room. Not that Zell really cared what people thought of him- He always seemed to lose himself in his sparring, it was so freeing to do something he truly loved. But sometimes, it felt nice to be alone with his thoughts as he did it. Zell loved shadow boxing because it helped him to relieve his pent-up frustration and jangled nerves.

And also because he liked to imagine it was him he was punching.

His lip curled as Seifer's smirking face emerged in his mind. Blood boiling, Zell threw a particularly ruthless punch, one that he knew would have brutalized Seifer's pretty face if he'd really struck him. He only wished he could feel it connect with his bully's jaw. Maybe he'd hear the bone crack as Seifer staggered backward clutching his face, his pride irreparably wounded. Oh well. Zell could at least feel satisfaction in knowing that he was fully capable of wiping that cocky grin off his face if he really felt like it. And he did often feel like it, but their altercations never seemed to fully reach the boiling point where things got physical. It didn't stop him from visualizing it in his head, though. Especially his favorite part—the end. Zell swung viciously and saw Seifer crumple in a bruised heap before him, stars dancing in a circle above his head. And Zell pronounced himself as the victor in his dorm room, with his arms raised above him in celebration. As though there was an invisible crowd cheering him on after knocking out his tormentor at long last.

"Who's the chicken-wuss now?"