"What'd you get for five?" Ruby asked. She had splayed herself out over her bed, staring at her work in a position that could not be comfortable.
At her desk, Weiss sighed. Not looking from her own work, she passed a sheet of notes to Ruby which would tell her how to do the problem. This was how she answered all of Ruby's questions. Blake sat in her own corner reading.
"When do you do your homework, Blake?" asked Weiss. "I never see you working."
"Library," Blake answered. Weiss hummed.
Ruby tossed her papers in the air and groaned. "This is so boring!"
Weiss snatched her notes with an indignant noise. "If you want to be a huntress you're going to have to do your work. On the battlefield and off. And if you keep whining I wont help you."
"Barely helping me anyways," Ruby muttered. Weiss threw a crumpled paper at her head.
Yang burst in then, grinning all too much. "Blake! Sparring, now!" She grabbed Blake's arm and dashed out of the room. Blake's book did a somersault and fell.
"Does your sister usually do that?" Weiss asked. Ruby thought for a moment, shrugged. She threw the paper back and it bounced off Weiss's forehead. She fumed.
Beacon had a large sparring room, outfitted with every type of gear. Blunted weapons, boxing pads, and target dummies were all available, along with more specialized equipment. This shouldn't have surprised Blake, since Beacon was an academy for warriors, but somehow it did.
"I know, weird, right?" Yang said beside her. "I usually just pop into the forest or something to warm up, but this is nice. It's." She pushed a punching bag and watched it swing. "It's cozy."
"What are we doing?" Blake asked.
"Sparring!"
"What kind of sparring?"
Yang gave her a concerned look. "The one where we use fists. How many kinds are there?"
For a second Blake wanted to tell her about all the martial arts and swordplay and techniques with strange, winding names. Yang was putting on boxing gloves, giving them experimental swings, and she dropped it.
Blake put her weapon into a locker and put on padding. Yang did not, she just stood and waited for Blake.
"Ready?" she asked, taking a fighting stance. Blake looked at the golden wristbands she still wore. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Forget I wear those sometimes." She started taking them off, froze, shook her head, and placed them in a locker.
"You don't usually take them off," Blake noted. The only time that she remembered was when Yang was asleep.
"They're comforting. Like a blanket, one that can punch the teeth out of an ursa and shoot fire." Yang punched the air. "Don't get me wrong, I can still punch teeth out, but it just feels right with Ember Celica. I feel naked without em'."
They took a boxing stance, started throwing light attacks, warming up. "Most people wouldn't admit that so easily," Blake said.
Yang smiled. "I'm an open gal, as you may have noticed. Besides, we're teammates. We should trust each other." She did a quick left, right, left combo that caught Blake by surprise. She staggered back and Yang grabbed her arm, swung her like a dance partner, and they ended up opposite their starting positions. "Which brings me to my point."
Blake's ears flicked down beneath her bow, an instinctive sign of concern. She kept her face level, hoping Yang didn't notice. "I do trust you, if that's what it is."
"Ah sure ya do," Yang said. "It's just that you don't actively trust us."
"What?"
How Yang sparred was identical to boxing, punches and blocks, while Blake dipped and jabbed like a snake. When Yang started matching her movements with more punches, Blake had to contort herself and throw her weight around to keep out of range.
"You never talk to us about something until its an issue." They were out of the sparring box now, making use of the empty room. "You didn't tell us you were faunus until literally the last possible second." Yang grabbed Blake and spun her again. This time Blake went with it, using the momentum to make distance. "You didn't talk to us about your obsessive search for Torchwick until I cornered you." Blake was starting to notice Yang's pattern, too simple for someone of her experience. Powerful punches in repeating sets of six. "In fact, I can't remember a time when you told us something without some serious circumstances involved."
Blake dipped under a fist and caught Yang's jaw with her own. The taller girl stepped back, her hair flaring at the ends.
"This isn't going to be fair if you use your semblance," Blake told her.
Yang snickered and rolled her shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll keep it down. Unless you touch my hair, then all bets are off."
They went back at it.
"So," Yang said conversationally while dodging kicks. "Back to our point, as your teammate and friend I'd like it if you could talk to us about things before they become a major issue. I mean, I don't want to end up fighting some kind of giant robot only to find out its your mom."
Blake choked on a laugh. "I have cat ears, not antenna."
"I knew you had a sense of humor!" Yang chuckled.
As they sparred Blake tried to think of a way to explain her quietness to Yang, simply and efficiently. Yang apparently saw this. She pressed in harder, increased the tempo so Blake was once more tossing herself to keep away. A blow hit her shoulder and she had to roll to keep from falling. Yang hit hard. Finally she ended up in the corner, face to face with what the team called Yang's fighting smile. A lopsided devil may care sort.
"I thought you wanted to talk," Blake panted, trying to work around the walls.
Yang missed a punch, the wall cracked. "You're thinking, not talking."
Blake side eyed the crack. She jumped, tucked her legs in, and kicked off the wall. Surprised, Yang could only spin to face her when Blake cleared her head and landed cleanly. Then it was Yang's turn to be in the corner.
"I'm just not used to talking about myself," Blake said. She was perhaps enjoying having Yang on her toes too much. Adrenaline and rapid heartbeats were beating in her ears, her arms twitching with it. The pain on her jaw had faded. "Not used to talking about anything, really."
"Benefits of being part of a super secret, super exclusive, going to take over the world club, huh?"
Blake didn't have time to shoot a scathing look. She didn't have the energy to do it either. Yang was putting up a fight in her corner, returning just as many hits as she received.
"I was one of the few who didn't want to wear the mask," Blake said. "The symbol was so wrong. But overnight, all of my friends looked like Grimm."
"You don't get secret keeping habits overnight."
"White Fang was always on the edge of law. Even less so for public opinion. We got arrested for anything during a protest, so we tried to do it by surprise. For that to work, only a few could know where and when. I guess the tactic spread to everything. People wouldn't tell me their names because they were afraid I might rat them out."
Yang snorted. When Blake's face was only confusion, she said, "What, pun unintentional? Ratting out, rat faunus?"
"Some might call you offensive," Blake snipped.
"Those some might need to soak their heads. Now what about your old friends?"
Blake went quiet. How could she talk about all those old friends. She had been a child, yet only a touch less serious than she was now. She had still been foolish, trusting the wrong types. They had all been rebellious sorts in White Fang, but some were worse than others. Most, actually, if the new regime was still going strong.
How might Yang feel if she knew that Blake had once run with the same people that murdered Weiss's family friends?
"Alright, you're thinking too much again," Yang said. Before Blake could respond, Yang bull rushed into her and they staggered to the ground. With Yang on top, Blake could only wiggle, arms pinned. Yang just looked down patiently. "Now, either talk or get free."
"Or else?" Blake challenged.
Yang put on an exaggerated thoughtful face. "I could just stay here until someone comes in and sees stoic Blake Belladonna pinned and helpless."
"You wouldn't." Blake tried to be convincing, but she wasn't so sure herself.
Yang blew a raspberry.
"Fine." Blake looked up at the ceiling, past the top of Yang's blonde head. "I was young and stupid. As if being in the White Fang wasn't enough, I ended up near the bad ones. The ones who were happy with the changes. Not the best influence for a foolish little girl. Looking back, they were worse than Cardin, but I turned a blind eye. We were fighting the good fight, I believed."
"Well, I'm hoping your taste in company has changed." Yang shuddered. "The last thing I want is to be compared to Cardin in any way."
"My tastes haven't changed that much, actually." Yang frowned, concerned. "Not the ethics or morality. Just the attachment to danger. I somehow felt that if I was in danger, I was doing something right. Being around my old friends, we were always running from police. They were the enemy, making them angry meant we were winning." Blake's smile is affectionate when she meets Yang's eyes. "With you all, being in danger means we just stepped on Torchwick's toes. And that is definitely doing something right."
"Well, we try," Yang said, looking flattered.
They hold this pose a minute longer, and Blake decides its a comfortable silence. Something she never had within the White Fang.
"Isn't this nice?" Yang asked. "Some heart to heart, little bonding time."
"You have a very… blunt way of bonding."
"It's how I got Ruby to talk to me. You get too busy fighting that you can't think of how to dodge the question or lie or anything. Works wonders, if I say so myself."
"It's great. Does that mean you can get off me?"
Yang considered it. "Nah. This is comfy."
She started giggling to herself, and Blake smiled along. Behind Yang''s sight, her legs bunched up, tensing like a spring. She pushed and Yang was knocked forwards with a little yelp. They scuffled a moment on the squeaky mats until Blake had reversed their positions.
"Nice moves cat girl," Yang said.
"I pick things up. And I think this interrogation has been very one sided. Why don't you talk about yourself?"
Yang tried shrugging and managed a tiny shoulder squirm. "I've already told you the interesting bit. Stubborn girl, search for mom, nearly got killed. Other than that, I'm fairly typical."
Blake quirked her head, brows flat. "There's more to it than that."
"Not really. I get pushy when I'm angry, but who doesn't?"
"Pushy is one way to say it."
Yang laughed. "Let's get up, I'm sweaty and I'm making this mat sweaty. It's all very gross, really."
Blake stood and pulled Yang up. Their hands lingered with a light squeeze and shared smiles. Showers had, gear gathered, they left the sparring room. Yang waved goodbye and started off deeper into the school while Blake turned towards their room. She stopped to watch Yang for a moment.
"Hey," she called. Yang turned her head. "I don't think you're typical."
Yang smiled, and Blake thought she could see the faintest blush.