Blake and I run through the train car side by side. Every footstep echoes rhythmically against the walls, filling the room with sound. A bomb will be waiting for us at the end of our sprint, nestled amongst countless metal crates. The situation is desperate, but my mind can't leave Yang, several cars behind. Glancing at Blake, I wonder if she feels the same twinge of guilt for leaving our teammate behind to face Torchwick's bodyguard. It's irrational, I know. Yang is built like a tank, sporting an athletic physique gifted by nature and perfected by years of training. Her opponent, meanwhile, is of a lesser breed: short and slender bordering on sickly, suicidal in her attempt to block a fighter who dwarfs her in stature and character. As Yang directed us forward, I saw on her face the expression of determination and shallowly hidden anger she gets when preparing for a challenge. How combating such a waif constitutes a test of strength, I do not know, but there is no reason to believe Yang is in danger any more than Ruby or Dr. Oobleck dispatching the White Fang above our heads.
Still, I worry for my teammates. Spending every waking moment with the same people, living and training as a unit, has left us bonded in a way both refreshing and intimidating. Rarely do I let others get this close. It's new and a bit scary, but the team is filling an absence I didn't know was there. Slowly, I'm learning to appreciate their support and abandon the solitude I thought I needed to function. All those warm, treasured afternoons staging mock battles have synchronized our attack patterns, each Huntress adapting to the condition her teammates. Leaving Yang to fight without backup goes against months of training and strategizing.
Focus, Weiss. There are bombs that need disposing. Detach.
My breath is starting to come out in heavy bursts and my legs become heavier with each step. Another brief glance to my left reveals that Blake is still making confident strides. I have trained to lessen my weaknesses, spent hour upon hour jogging and dashing until my heart felt like an iron ball slamming against my ribs. Yet despite all the effort, my endurance still lags slightly behind the rest of the team. Without doubt, I've improved; weeks ago, I would have lasted half this long, but I'm edging up to my limits. Selfish and defeated as it makes me feel, I wish for an excuse to pause.
One presents itself. From the other side of the car, a mask glares at me, bestial red on white. Attached to it is a creature. He is exactly how I would imagine a White Fang to look, standing tall and straight, rope-like arms ornamented with swirling ink. Behind him, the criminal drags an oversized chainsaw, making sparks jump and leaving grey lines on the metal floor. I've seen this kind of weapon before, probably designed for intimidation and to show dominance, ludicrous for combat scenarios. A perfect weapon for someone who wants to feel important. Particularly fitting for a thug of the White Fang.
He is a Faunus, of course. No horns or animalistic ears are perched on his short black hair. No claws or tusks or even a tail decorate his body. But I know he is a Faunus and not just because of his White Fang regalia. His manner gives him away: the slow march and lazy posture more beast than man, the way he carries his weapon like a burdensome weight and not an expertly manufactured tool to be respected.
Again, I look to Blake and am struck by the contrast. Short months ago, I wouldn't have noticed her deliberate movements or carefully crafted physique, her imperfection slyly hidden beneath a fashionable bow. Observing her has taught me so much, that a rare Faunus can have the intelligence of a human, can be worthy of trust. Despite her past missteps, something beautiful inside let her break away from the savagery of her people, embodied by the approaching monster. I am uncertain if we would yet call each other "friends," but she is certainly a worthy teammate and a credit to her species.
Still, I can see confliction in her gleaming eyes. She hasn't accepted the White Fang as an enemy, not truly. For whatever reason, she still feels empathy for the chainsaw-wielding brute. There is no need for her to fight this battle. I won't be able to run much longer anyway. Let me stay and fight while she saves the day.
"You go on ahead," I tell her.
"Got it," Blake replies.
A guttural laugh escapes the White Fang's throat as he pauses and lets his weapon roar for attention. It's an absurd sight. Time to demonstrate how to fight with elegance. Pulling Myrtenaster from my side before I rush to fill the distance between the enemy and myself. With a giant's strength, he swings the great chainsaw horizontally, a cumbersome attack sure to come with at least a second of recovery. Before the teeth can reach me, I have already flipped backwards and Blake has clashed her ebony sword against his weapon. Cleanly synchronized, just like training. As predicted, the huge terrorist takes a moment to right himself from the impact, his attention split between two foes. I take the opportunity to leap and thrust my rapier at the chainsaw, stealing his focus from Blake, who darts towards the back door. To press the advantage, I unleash a flurry of strikes, swinging and thrusting my blade again and again against his chainsaw, every contact making the weapons sing. The payoff is quick and a final upward slice sends the Faunus hurling backwards. Far behind us, I see Blake slip into the next car.
I smirk, but that opening bout did not go as perfectly as I had planned. Except for the last stroke, the Faunus had kept up with all of my attacks and the pushback from each collision of our weapons reminded me not to underestimate his strength. When I fight with Grimm, there is nothing personal about our exchange. They are monsters and I hunt them. Simple. I was expecting a similar challenge in my dealing with this Faunus, but that's not how things are working out. There is a hint of intelligence behind his attacks, some elusive quality I can't quite determine.
Drunkenly, he rises, managing to get into something resembling a fighting stance. While I hold no delusions that this battle is over, the speed with which he recovered sends a red flag to my fighter's intuition. This isn't going to be as quick and easy as I had hoped.
The White Fang lets loose another savage chuckle, pretending I didn't just put him on the ground.
"Finally," he says, "I get to kill a Schnee."
Oh. I get it now: hate and opportunity. Those are the messages etched into every swipe of that ridiculous chainsaw. How could this be anything but personal to him? Doubtless, he's spent years fantasizing about taking the life of a Schnee. Presenting my corpse will give him some tribal standing. Word will spread in his circles of the Faunus who took down the youngest of the world's most hated family. A far more effective motivation than the mindless anger of Grimm. It doesn't bother me.
I swallow the inept insult and point Myrtenaster at the Faunus, letting him know I'm not afraid. For just a few seconds, I stare into that wretched mask. Somehow, I didn't notice before, but it's different from all the others, fully covering my opponent's face. Two long, red trails flow from the black eyes, looking for all the world like tears. He must be of a higher rank than the White Fang grunts I dealt with earlier.
It strikes me that as I study the Faunus, he studies me. Unfortunately, the mask keeps me from reading his expression and I feel strangely naked.
If this fight is to continue, someone needs to make a move. Looks like he's elected himself. With surprising swiftness for an opponent of such size, he charges towards me, each footstep rattling the floor. That chainsaw is going to come in hard, but nothing my Aura can't handle. A few quick swipes to summon the power of my soul and he's sawing against pure protective energy. Now, to—
Okay, maybe it bothers me just a little. Disapproval is not a foreign concept to me. I'm not exactly everyone's best friend. And yes, I sometimes come across as a touch coldhearted or mean-spirited. My people skills need work, I know, but I'm getting better…more or less. Right now, however, I'm picking up on something much more intense: genuine hate. I can't help but feel insulted. This Faunus isn't reacting to anything I did. He knows nothing about me but my family's name.
Wait, what am I doing?
I burst through my own Aura, sending the Faunus back with a grunt. Quicker than I'd like, he recovers and swings the chainsaw vertically over his head. Aura or not, that would be a killing blow if it weren't so clumsy. A simple dodge and parry is all it takes to redirect the weapon to the metal floor beside me. No way can he lift that heavy saw quickly enough to counter my next swipe. Myrtenaster jabs the Faunus directly above the heart and he stumbles like an oaf. Another prime chance to overwhelm him. With all the strength I can assemble, I leap high into the air and strike the upside down White Fang across the face. His mask likely cushioned most of the blow, but if the yelp he uttered is any indication, he felt it. I stick the landing just in time to notice the Faunus coming in for another horizontal swing. Not to worry. Allowing myself to fall, I backwards somersault under the giant—
You really do hate me, don't you? Killing a Schnee would make you a champion among all your little White Fang friends. All the Schnees and associates you people have already murdered aren't enough, no? I've got to go down too. You don't know anything about me. You don't even hate me for who I am.
This filthy animal hates me for what I am.
Wait. Wait wait. I know how that sounds and I can already imagine the obvious response. "Do you not hate this Faunus for the same reason?" No, that is silly. I hate him—greatly dislike him because he is swinging a chainsaw at me. Surely that's a good enough reason to dislike a person. Plus, he's a part of the White Fang! I mean, so was Blake, but she—
Focus, Weiss! What the hell?
I backwards somersault under the giant chainsaw and immediately get to work striking his mask. Just four swipes send the huge Faunus through the air. When the White Fang lands hard on his side, I leap over him to get a good shot. Again, he resurrects himself before I can strike. With a burst of speed, his chainsaw screams at me as he attempt yet another horizontal swipe, which I barely manage to avoid. He pushes my back against some metal crates. All the soreness I felt prior to the fight are back in force. My back in tenderized, joints stiff, and lungs ragged. Luckily, the adrenaline pumping through me dulls the ache enough for me to continue. Besides, he isn't in perfect condition either. As I thought, he is getting angrier. His attacks are less precise, but his wicked speed and strength bother me.
It's not just the White Fang, is it? My frustration is directed towards them all. I see a Faunus and immediately assume the worst. They…I mean, they can't very well help what they are. Faunus are humble, confessedly. They lack humanity's intellectual faculties, but that isn't a bad thing. Faunus are necessary to bridge the gap between animals and people. Acknowledging that is not hate, and t's nothing like the blind rage of the madman trying to kill me over my name.
But what about Blake? She's not humble at all. She's one of the good ones. So, they can't all be—
Later. This absentmindedness will only get me killed.
With terrible strength, the enormous man kicks at me. Before his foot can make contact, I leap to the ceiling and push off, whirling Myrtenaster like a drill as I dive towards the Faunus. Unfortunately, he jumps back and my blade plants into the floor, the bitter screech of metal on metal punctuating my failure. No way can I give him enough time to respond. One quick strike to the chainsaw taunts him into a swing. I leap over the blade and he's wide open. Finally, I have enough time to line up a forceful thrust to the abdomen, which lands spectacularly. He flies.
And recovers. That should have been the end. Instead, he's standing, judging me behind that damn mask.
Time is a factor here. Doesn't he know this whole train I rigged to blow? We could both die at any moment and all he can do is fight. I have to finish this quickly, before the Faunus is in fighting condition again. Luckily, I know just the way to speed things up. For me, at least. Spending all the concentration I can afford, the floor beneath me becomes a luminous clock, charging my body with lost energy.
It's only the violent ones I don't like. The rest are fine. Like that rabbit girl. Velvet, I think her name was. What a shame that she has to endure so much uncivilized behavior from fellow students. How common is that kind of abuse? Having to face all the worst parts of humanity does paint an ugly picture. Maybe if the Faunus weren't harassed quite so much, they would have less reason to hate us. Maybe…maybe if they had a few more opportunities, less would sign up with the White Fang. And then it would be easier to find the sapient ones like Blake—
With inhuman speed, I rush towards the still-dazed Faunus. Before we meet, a half dozen alabaster, snowflake-shaped glyphs surround my enemy. I doubt he has ever encountered an opponent like me, because he continues standing in place, stupidly looking from glyph to glyph, wondering what comes next. His confusion is my advantage. No opposition comes as I become a blur of white light, darting between glyphs, striking him hard with each pass. In a manner of seconds, he is on the floor and I am perched high on the final artificial platform, like a cat set to pounce on prey.
Where is this coming from? Where the hell is this coming from? It all made sense growing up. My family was always under assault from the Faunus, from the White Fang. I knew they were all animals then, but—
How did I miss? How could he possibly still have the strength to dodge my attack? No matter. I will not be defeated by some ridiculous hate-fueled machine. He has to lose and I have to win. The Faunus hasn't attacked yet, meaning he's still slightly out of it. I'm in a much better position. Just one more attack and I can get back to my teammates. I leap, Myrtenaster poised for the winning blow.
Father. I can't remember a time when you weren't angry. Angry with the Faunus. Angry with the economy. Angry with me. Over time, I've recognized that you aren't perfect, that our name is in need of renewal, but a smaller version of myself could not understand. I couldn't call you a bad parent. I still can't. Someone else has to take the blame. Someone humble.
"Come here, princess."
An enormous hand plucks me from the air. I try to yell, but the oversized palm completely covers my mouth.
Oh, Faunus. You didn't need that silly chainsaw to get me after all.
Single-handedly, he lifts me high above his head and slams my body against the cold floor. My Aura takes the worst of the blow, but I'm done. No part of me can fight back as the last of my strength spills onto the metal tiles. Consciousness failing, my thoughts are a mix of panic and humiliation.
He'll kill me. I don't see any reason why he wouldn't saw me in half like a bad magic act. Murdered by a Faunus, exactly how I always feared. The great Weiss Schnee, heiress to the most powerful company on Remnant, a head on a plaque decorating a White Fang rec room.
Yang should be finished with the little bodyguard by now. I imagine my teammate standing victorious, a well-earned grin on her face. Meanwhile, Blake has probably disposed of two or three bombs, and there's no doubt Ruby and Dr. Oobleck have finished up the lesser White Fang on top of the train, leaving me the only failure.
How did it happen? I had every advantage: formal training, a better weapon, speed, Semblance. But I kept getting pulled away into my own mind. It probably wasn't intentional, but setting off a personal crisis? That's one hell of a clever fighting technique. And he just wouldn't stay down. Hatred wouldn't let him rest. His desire to see me humbled and broken must be frighteningly powerful if it beat my desire to live. I can't help but wonder if he'll be content, now that he's achieved his lifelong dream of killing a Schnee. Will it be enough, or will he hunt another and another, his grudge against my family a beast that can't be fed?
Incredibly, the Faunus still has strength enough to toss me skyward. For a terrible second, I am suspended in midair, upside down. Just barely, I make out the shape of the soon-to-be champion proudly lifting his weapon like a trophy. To my own surprise, I can't bring myself to hate him.
You and I carry a terrible burden, Faunus. Wouldn't you agree?
The chainsaw draws near.