When something is ripped away from you, feeling the release of pressure from your grip fills you with guilt. If something is ripped from you, that means you let it go.
One breeze nipped the air, infecting it with the cold. The winter crept itself in, from a small bite to the wind. The open space in the window began to slowly close over time, shutting out the infected air. With nothing to do but watch the window get taken by frost, Yang began to look at the ceiling. The soft umber color of the wood was bland, and became a sore to her eyes.
Her mind and body began to taunt her. She would look down at her legs, and see two. She would look in the mirror, and see two lavender eyes. Every deep breath sent a pulse to her wound, reminding her nothing was there. Yang would see the trees without leaves, and would see how the cold killed anything in sight out from her window. She compared herself to the winter, except her cold storm was nuclear. There would be nothing to flourish, once she was covered in snow.
Her Scroll used to ring, quite a lot. Eight times out ten, it was Ruby. The other two were her father, summoning her for whatever meal he served next. But ten times out of ten, she let it ring. Eventually, she turned off the volume. And so, the scroll started to vibrate less and less.
Snow pelted her home, softly burying it. The storm was bitter, freezing the house from the inside out. Yang didn't leave her room often, but she needed the warmth of the fireplace. Shrouded in a warm blanket, Yang observed the fire, absorbing its warmth. She enjoyed the occasional pop of burning wood. As the time passed and the wood burned to ash, Yang's father came to her for some company.
"So Yang, how's it going? Good?" With no need to use her voice, Yang simply nodded. With a deep sigh, he sat down next to his depressed daughter.
"Yang, listen. I don't know what it's like, to go through what you did. But you can't mope around the house all day, you still have the ability to do more than just feel sorry for yourself." Yang shrugged her shoulders, becoming more enveloped in her shroud.
"Hunter's don't give up the first time something happens to them. A hunter isn't a hunter without the scars or wounds to prove it." He could give her all of the phrases and sayings he wanted, but Yang wasn't prepared to consider anyone's words. Her father knew words were a lost cause, but he didn't know any other way to simply hear his daughter's voice. Until now.
"Well, if you don't feel like talking to me, maybe this will help." From behind his back, Taiyang brought out one of Yang's old gauntlets. One half of Ember Celica.
"I didn't want it getting rusty on you, so I have kept it in shape for when you needed it next." Yang took the gauntlet, baffled by its new glow.
"Oh, and can't forget these." From what appeared to be nowhere, he showed Yang two more gauntlets, making three total. Without observing them thoroughly, Yang shot her father a look.
"Three?"
"Huh, a few months of silence and all I get is a single word." He continued to chuckle, without answering Yang's simple question.
"Dad, I know you want me back out there, but I don't think I need a bunch of spares if I do."
"They ain't spares kiddo." He offered them to her. Yang put the other down, and took one of them for more thorough examination.
"I mean, they do look different."
"That's because they are. They aren't supposed to go on your wrist." Taking her father's strong hint, Yang excitedly looked down at her ankles. Before she could try it on, Taiyang snatched it out of her hand.
"You only get to try them out, if you go outside and warm-up with me first."
"Dad, come on."
"And say something funny too, I've been dying for your sense of humor." She was slightly disgusted at her father's bribe, but at the same time amused. She could feel a grin stretch her cheek, shaking off the rust.
"It ain't gonna be my sense of humor that kills you if you don't let me try those out."
"That a girl."
Out in the snow, Taiyang prepared a couple makeshifts targets out of wet wood and bottles. Lining in them in a large row, he instructed Yang to take them out anyway and any order she wanted.
"But I am gonna time you though. If this were a real fight, with these numbers against you, you gotta be quick, not strong. And when you are done, we set them back up, and do over. Keep doing it until we have reached a satisfactory time. Got it?" With just a simple nod, Yang stood in her ready position.
"Three…two…one…go!"
Yang fired the gauntlets at her ankles, intending to propel her faster towards her first target. But her legs had barely had to support her own body weight recently, never mind the force from almost two shotgun blasts. Her knees buckled, and she began to tumble through the air. Taiyang had no choice but to wince and look away. But he could hear Yang's panic turn to a confident grunt, and as he looked back up, he could see Yang turn her awkward momentum into a slick roll, finally raising her leg towards the middle target. She powered her up roundhouse kick with another blast of the gauntlet, which was strong enough to splinter the soggy bark. With an almost complete spin, she slammed her foot down back into the snow, propelling herself again towards the rest of the targets.
In a brief dance of snow and splinters, no targets remained standing. Without a moment to catch her breath, Yang called to her father.
"And?"
"Thirty six seconds."
"So…..good?" Taiyang approached Yang, seeing as how her body was still adjusting to being put back into use.
"Well…just not good enough."
"Ah, come on Dad. It's my first run."
"Yang, you can't use that as an excuse. You could have been out there hunting alongside your sister a long time ago, but instead you chose to sulk."
"But Dad I…"
"It's the life of a hunter sweetheart. Seeing as how you can finally stand on your two feet, I'm not gonna cater you anymore. You built up a lot of rust, and someone your age shouldn't even be close to rusty."
Yang wanted to defend herself, but she knew any words she used would just further her denial.
"What, mad I'm gonna be hard on you from now on?"
"You wouldn't be my father unless you did." He tried his best to be stern, but seeing his daughter's confidence back put a grin on his face. After patting her head, he spoke softly to her.
"You're damn right kiddo. Now I'm gonna go out and do a couple things, can I trust you to keep practicing until I get back? No slacking off?"
"Absolutely."
"Awesome. Love you sweetheart." With a quick hug to his daughter, Taiyang vanished into the storm. And now, with nothing but the wind keeping her company, Yang prepared more targets. It was tedious work with one arm, but the excitement of being able to smash them all again was enough to keep Yang motivated.
Once they were all prepared, Yang took time to plan out a strategy. She tried analyzing her past attempt, figuring out what she did wrong and how to improve it. Despite some awkwardness from the momentum at her ankles, her attacks felt natural and effective.
"So what was the problem? What wasn't good enough? My kicks? Punches? Was I too slow?" Then an idea clicked in Yang's head.
"Speaking of slow I need a timer. Duh." She took one quick adventure back into her household to retrieve her scroll. She noticed on the screen the countless missed calls and unanswered messages from Ruby.
"Sorry Ruby. I actually have a reason to ignore you right now."
The wind picked up, filling the air with white powder. The horizon of her vision was very short, full of nothing but the bright gray blur. Yang (hoped she) remembered the direction of the targets and moved towards them. As she walked, she looked down at her scroll preparing the timer. When the timer was set to thirty six seconds, she looked back up. Sitting on top of the center target, was a figure. The wind concealed their identity.
"Hello? Who's there?" Yang called out. She saw no movement from the figure. She took a few more steps.
"Who are you? I'm prepared to kick your ass if you don't respond!" Just like a statue, the figure remained still. Unmoved by the gusts of wind.
"Hey! One last time! Who…are you?" With one more series of steps, the blurred lines of the figure began to solidify and take shape. Elegant black hair flowed like magic in the wind, with almost no effect from the chaotic breath of the storm. A sleek feminine body, perched with grace on top of the dummy. Not until the figure turned towards Yang, did she realize who it was. And all it took was the golden eyes that pierced through the snow to reveal her identity.
"Blake?"
Author's Note
Welcome everyone to my second fan-fiction based on the RoosterTeeth production RWBY. As always, any feedback or criticisms you may have are highly welcome and wanted. I want to write the best stories for you guys, and it is your feedback that helps me improve.
Also, it is worth mentioning, I just started writing this story as the new Vol. 4 of RWBY just began. I already have a set idea and timeline for how this story will go, and so I am going to do my best to avoid Vol. 4. I do not want the new volume influencing this story, as I pretty much planned it out way before Vol. 4 even came out. So if at any point, information or details in this fan-fiction rival or disagrees with canon information from Vol. 4, you know the reason why.
I hope you all enjoy.