Yang twisted down on Bumblebee's throttle, urging the motorcycle to go ever faster. The wind whistled in her ears and whipped her hair up behind her. The sheer sense of speed was so exhilarating that Yang could not help but to laugh as she roared down the unpaved road. It almost felt like she was flying. Unrestricted by city speed limits, this freedom was a first for her. But it was thanks to that that she almost missed the traveler walking down the road.
It was such an odd sight seeing anyone this far away from civilization that Yang had to stop. It was almost as rare as seeing a ghost. Bumblebee's wheels screeched in complaint as it kicked up a cloud of dust and dirt, which Yang had to wait for to settle before she could get a clear view of the traveler.
The first thing that came to mind was that this man was surely some sort of actor, but Yang quickly dismissed that thought as utterly absurd. What would an actor be doing all alone out here in the middle of nowhere? Still, she could not be blamed for letting that thought cross her mind. The man was dressed in traditional Mistralian clothes, the likes of which Yang had only ever seen in period dramas and history books. He wore a red haori on top, a dusty white hakama on the bottom, and black socks and straw sandals on his feet. His long red hair was tied into a tail behind him, and there was a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. At his hip he carried a single katana in a lacquered wood scabbard.
When the traveler saw that Yang had stopped and was looking at him, he smiled and dipped his head at her in greeting.
"Good afternoon, child," he said. His voice was soft and gentle, almost as if he were afraid he might hurt someone with his words. "Do you need something?"
"No," Yang replied. She leaned forward against Bumblebee's handles, resting her elbows on them. "I'm just curious what you're doing this far out in the middle of nowhere."
"I could ask you the same thing." The man chuckled. "There is no reason in particular. I am but a wanderer, and merely following where this road leads."
"On foot?" Yang frowned. "The closest town to here is Augustine. It's going to take you days just to get there."
"Whether it be days or weeks, I am in no rush."
"Well, since it looks like we're going the same way anyway, why don't I just give you a ride?"
"Thank you, but you need not trouble yourself over me. I have no wish to be a burden."
Yang tilted her head and rubbed the back of her neck. Weird guy, she thought. Not only his dress, but even the manner of his speech was weird. Even so, she felt she had to dig her heels in here. She could not help but to be concerned for this stranger. Traveling this far out, alone and on foot? That was just begging to be attacked by the Grimm. And, sure, she was also traveling alone, but with Bumblebee she could move fast enough to get from town to town with no real problem. Yang's eyes dropped to the man's sword. He must be a huntsman, it suddenly occurred to her. Only a skilled huntsman would dare take such risks. And if that was the case, then maybe he was right that her concern was unnecessary.
Unnecessary, but that did not mean it ought to be dismissed.
"Come on," Yang urged him. "It'll leave a bad taste in my mouth if I just leave you out here on your own."
"Is that so?" The traveler smiled and bowed his head. "Then I humbly accepts your generosity. Thank you, child."
The man sat down behind Yang, putting one hand on her shoulder and the other gripping the lip of the seat. Before they took off, Yang glanced over her shoulder and scowled at him. "By the way, I'm seventeen. I'm not a child anymore."
"My apologies. I did not mean to insult you."
"It's fine. Just call me Yang. You?"
"Kenshin," the traveler answered. "My name is Himura Kenshin."
The sky had taken on a blood-red hue by the time they arrived at Augustine. Although it was the first time Yang had ever been to this town, it was not the first time she had seen it. It had a long and storied past, so much so that it had made its way into her school textbooks. This was the site where Mistral had first launched their invasion of Vale during the Great War, before later being liberated by a combination of Valean troops and Mistralian rebels, thereby cutting off the invaders from being supplied by sea. After the war, however, it had since faded into obscurity. The battles around the town had attracted too many Grimm, and rather than try to rebuild in such hostile territory after the war was ended, it had been deemed safer and less costly to simply build a new port elsewhere. Even when the Grimm eventually dispersed back into the wilds, few people ever returned.
It was little surprise, then, that those who had stubbornly chosen to remain in Augustine and their descendants had become self-reliant and suspicious of outsiders over the decades.
"What do you mean we can't come in?" Yang yelled up at the guardsman.
"You heard me," the guardsman yelled back from on top of the wall, above the gates. "No one is allowed in or out once the sun sets."
"Oh, come on! The sun isn't even completely down yet!"
"Those are the rules!"
"Why don't you try coming down here and saying that to my face?" Yang seethed. She was tempted to scale the walls herself and force the gate open when Kenshin touched her shoulder and gently urged her away.
"This is their town and their rules," Kenshin said calmly. "We can camp outside for tonight and try again in the morning."
"Fine," Yang huffed. Casting one last glare at the guardsman that promised it wasn't the last he'd seen of her (she swore he had a smug sneer on his face, but it was hard to tell for sure in this light), she followed Kenshin away from the town to a small creek nearby. There they set down their belongings and split the tasks between themselves.
As Kenshin set up the campsite, Yang went to the nearby forest to collect firewood. It was strangely peaceful work, Yang found. Despite what had just happened, she was almost even starting to have fun. This was another part of what a real adventure was like, the kind she had always dreamed of when she decided to become a huntress.
When Yang returned, she found Kenshin sitting by the edge of the creek, a makeshift fishing rod fashioned from a stick and some string in hand. Next to him, lying on a large flat stone, was a small pile of fish neatly gutted and cleaned.
Yang whistled. "You're a pretty good fisherman," she said. She could not have been gone for more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
"Thank you," Kenshin said. "If you'll wait a few minutes, there will be enough for dinner."
Nodding, Yang left Kenshin and began setting up the fire. Soon the flame was crackling brightly in the night, and Kenshin came over with all the fish he had caught. They stuck them on sticks and leaned them over the fire. As they waited for the fish to cook, Yang rolled out her sleeping bag on the ground. Kenshin, who carried little else but his sword with him, simply sat down and closed his eyes. His katana rested against his shoulder in his arms, almost as if he were embracing it.
"Hey, Kenshin," Yang said, as she rummaged through her traveling bag. "Catch."
"Oro?" Kenshin opened his eyes and with one hand snatched the canteen Yang had tossed at him. "Thank you," he said. As he drank, Yang laid down on her sleeping bag on her side, propping her head up with one hand, and stared at him.
"So where in Mistral are you from?"
"A very small village, far out in the countryside, one that I doubt anyone who is not from there has heard of." Kenshin smiled. "Was it my clothes that gave it away?"
"Well, that and your name. Even if it's not that common anymore, only the Mistralians put their family names first."
"True."
"Let me guess," Yang said. "You became a huntsman to escape the village life. Am I right?"
"Oh, not at all." Kenshin laughed. "I am nothing so noble as a huntsman; I am merely a wanderer."
"You're not?" Yang's eyebrows shot up. "I was so sure that you were..."
"Unfortunately, I am unskilled in the art of fighting Grimm," Kenshin said sheepishly.
"You're taking a pretty big risk walking around the country on your own, then."
"If nothing else, I am quite confident in my ability to run away."
Yang laughed and rolled over onto her back. The stars were coming out in the sky, and she idly tried to pick out a few constellations. The wind blew gently, carrying with it the sweet scent of wood and fire and the cooking fish. "Me, I'm from Patch. It's a small island off the coast of Vale, but me and my family pretty much have it all to ourselves. There's not even a village there. Just me, my dad, my little sister, a bunch of Beowolves, and a couple of Ursa. They made great practice, but whenever we need something, we have to sail all the way to the city to get it."
"It sounds like you liked it there."
"I guess. It was kind of nice, y'know? But it can get pretty boring sometimes. It's just..." Yang raised her hand above her face and made an airy gesture. "It's slow. It's like Patch moves on a different time than the rest of the world."
"Is that why you became a huntress?"
"Heh. You knew?"
"Given your age and those weapons you carry on your wrists, I could not think of anything else you could be."
"I could've been a bandit or something," Yang said, grinning as she turned her head to look at Kenshin across the fire. "Maybe I only offered to give you a ride so that I could lead you into a trap, where the rest of my buddies are waiting to ambush you."
"Given that there is no one else around us, I doubt that very much, indeed."
Yang laughed. "You got me there. Technically I'm just a huntress-in-training, but starting this fall I'm going to be attending Beacon."
"Should you not be preparing for that, then? What brings you this far away from the city?"
"Hmm... well, a part of it is because my whole life has only ever been Patch and Vale. I want more than that. And since it's summer vacation, and my little sister is finally old enough to stay home by herself, I figured... road trip."
"And the other part?"
"This." Yang sat up and reached into her pocket. She took out her scroll, turned it on, and pulled up a picture of a black-haired woman. She tossed the scroll at Kenshin, who once again caught it out of the air, and he looked at it. "Have you ever seen this woman?"
"I cannot say that I have," Kenshin answered. He stood up and gave the scroll back to her, before returning to his seat. "If I may ask, who is she?"
"Her name's Raven." Yang pursed her lips as she stuck her scroll back into her pocket, and stared up at the sky. The stars were slowly coming out, poking white, needle-thin holes in a vast black canvas. "She's my mom. She disappeared when I was a kid, and I want to know why."
"Your search has brought you quite a ways already, then."
"I've spent years searching for her in Vale," Yang said. "She's not in the city. So if I'm ever going to find her, it's going to be somewhere else."
"It will be difficult to find one person across the entire world."
"I know that. Remnant's a big place. That's why I said that's only a part of it." Yang grinned. "Don't worry about me. Whatever I find or don't find, I'm lovin' every second of this trip." An image of that guardsman flashed in her mind, and her smile faltered. "Well, most of it anyway."
"Hm." Kenshin poked at the fire with a stick. "It has been a long time since I last ventured to Vale. Nor have I ever seen Beacon. Will you tell me what it is like there?"
"Sure, but only a little. I've only been there once for a tour," Yang admitted. "But all the upperclassmen were really strong, way better than anyone I've seen at Signal, so it must be a great school. All the equipment looks high-tech and the lectures... well, most of them were interesting, anyway. Oh, but get this! While I was there, I heard that Pyrrha Nikos is going to enroll at Beacon instead of Haven." Yang punched the air and bared her teeth in a wide grin. "I can't wait to fight her!"
"I have seen one of her matches before. If you seek to challenge her, then you must be quite skilled yourself."
"Well, not to brag or anything..." Yang said jokingly, pretending to be embarrassed. "Actually, I don't think I can beat her. That girl is a freakin' monster. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? If I don't at least try, then I never will."
"That is certainly true." Kenshin reached out and plucked the fishes away from the fire. "Here, the food is ready."
Yang sat up and accepted the fish gratefully. Though they lacked in salt or other spices, the natural flavor of the fish and the fact that it had been so freshly cooked still sent shockwaves of flavor bolting across her tongue. Hot juices ran down her chin, and Yang wiped it away with the back of her hand.
"This one remembers seeing one of her matches once." Unlike her, Kenshin ate in a much slower, more deliberate manner. As if he were trying to extract every last bit of nutrient with each bite. "If you wish to fight her, then you must be quite skilled yourself."
"Yup," Yang agreed. They spent the rest of the time eating in a pleasant quiet. When they finished, Yang yawned.
"We should get some rest," Kenshin declared. "Sleep. I'll take first watch."
"All right. Wake me up in a few hours."
Kenshin smiled. "Of course. Good night, Yang."
It was still dark out when Yang felt a hand shake her by the shoulder, hard. Her eyes snapped open and she nearly leaped to her feet shouting, until she felt that same hand press against her mouth and firmly push her back down. She wasn't being attacked; that much she could tell from the amount of strength that was being put into pinning her down. And then, in the light of the moon and the smoldering embers of the campfire, she saw Kenshin's face above hers.
"What's going on?" Yang said, her voice still sluggish from sleep when Kenshin finally removed his hand.
"We are surrounded," Kenshin whispered back.
"Grimm?"
"No," Kenshin said, his eyes narrowed.
"I'll get the fire going again," Yang said immediately.
"Do not," Kenshin hissed. "It will make it harder for us to see through the shadows. Close your eyes and count to ten. Adjust to the darkness."
Yang nodded and did as she was told. Kenshin, meanwhile, clutched his sword's scabbard at his waist with one hand and hovered the other over the hilt. "We know you are out there," he declared loudly, in a voice so cold and sharp that Yang could scarcely believe it was coming from the same gentle man she had shared a meal with mere hours ago. "One... seven... there are ten of you there. If you mean us no harm, then announce yourself now. Or else come, and I shall show you no mercy."
There was silence. Then the leaves rustled, so softly that Yang was certain it had been caused by nothing more than a stray breeze. But at last Kenshin relaxed his stance, taking his hands away from his sword.
"They're gone," Kenshin said.
"Who were they?" Yang said.
"I do not know."
"But you knew they were there. How?"
"Never mind that for now," Kenshin said. "You should go back to sleep. I shall keep watch for the rest of the night. I fear that this may not be the last we have seen of them."
Yang wanted to protest, but found that she could not. Though she had gotten accustomed to the darkness, she could still scarcely see more than a dozen feet in front of her. Kenshin somehow could, and so it only made logical sense that he be responsible for standing guard.
She wondered if Kenshin was a faunus, and that was why he was able to detect their would-be assailants in the night. But looking at him again, Yang could not notice a single animal trait anywhere on his body. Either it was hidden or else he was using a different means of sensing those around him. Perhaps his Semblance?
Yang resolved to ask of it tomorrow. Kenshin was correct. Right now her job was to rest and regain as much strength as she could. When dawn broke, he would be tired and it would be her job to keep them safe.
But for the rest of that night, they were not attacked again. And come morning, Yang and Kenshin once again stood before the gates of Augustine. This time, under the bright light of the sun, the gates groaned open and they were permitted inside. Yang drew a small degree of satisfaction at watching the same cocky guardsman being forced to open the gates this time, though she knew he was no doubt feeling even more satisfaction at having won their argument and forcing them to camp out all night.
For a moment, Yang's temper flared. She was more irritable than usual due to last night's events, and she was itching for a fight. Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Kenshin tapped her shoulder and pointed off in a direction.
"I believe there should be an inn this way," he said. Yang nodded, threw one last glare at the guard, and followed Kenshin down the street, around the corner, and on until they arrived at an old, almost rundown building with a sign overhead that read, War's End Tavern.
"Hey, I know this place," Yang said. "This is where one of the generals of Mistral's armies officially surrendered to Vale near the end of the Great War."
"The name does give it away," Kenshin agreed. "The owner at the time was rather blunt like that."
Yang snorted. "That's for sure." She looked at Kenshin with a puzzled expression. "How did you know where this was, though? I thought you said you've never been here before."
"Did I?" Kenshin looked back at her, equally puzzled. "I do not believe I have."
"Sure you did." Yang cleared her throat and affected a deeper, more masculine voice. "I am but a wanderer, and merely following where this road leads. Remember that?"
"Ahhh," Kenshin said quietly, realization dawning on his face. "I apologize if I misled you. It has been a long time since I last came to this region, and that road did not exist back then. I was curious if it led here or somewhere else. In any case, I thank you once again for your kindness. As you said, it would have taken much longer to get here if not for you. Allow me to pay for your room. Consider it a parting gift, and my gratitude to you."
"Parting gift...?" Yang blinked a few times. "Oh... right. Yeah, uh, sure. Thanks."
In truth, Yang had almost forgotten that the two of them had only ever intended to come this far together. He was so easygoing and calm that though they had been traveling together for less than a day, it felt like it had been for much longer. As such, this ending felt abrupt and out of nowhere.
"Maybe we'll see each other around, then," Yang said. "If you're ever in Vale, stop by Beacon sometime. We can catch up with each other then."
"I will do just that," Kenshin said. Then the two of them stood around in awkward silence for a minute, before Yang finally gave a sheepish smile.
"We kinda got the order of this all wrong, huh?" Yang said. This was their goodbye, but because they were staying in the same inn in the same town, they wouldn't actually be parting ways for a little while more. It felt like those times when she and her friends from school were hanging out together until they said their goodbyes, only to realize that they were both leaving in the same direction.
"Yes," Kenshin nodded. He hastily changed the subject. "For now, shall we rent our rooms?"
"Yeah, let's do that."
They parked Bumblebee inside an adjacent stable and went inside the inn. There they found that there was a little less than a dozen or so people, eating and drinking and talking in small clusters of two or three each, as a middle-aged barmaid went back and forth between them with fresh drinks. As soon as the doors swung open, however, all noise suddenly stopped. To a man, every head swiveled their way and suspicious glares were shot at them. It was uncomfortable, but Yang brushed them aside as she and Kenshin went up to the bar, which the innkeeper stood behind.
"Whaddya want?" the innkeeper said gruffly.
"Two rooms, please," Kenshin said, fishing out a small purse from his pocket and placing the lien from inside on the table. "Also, is Raymond Dee still here? May I speak with him?"
The innkeeper scowled at him. "My grandfather is ill."
"Oh." A pained look flashed across Kenshin's face. "I... am sorry to hear that. If it is all right, I'd like to give him my best wishes."
"No," the innkeeper said firmly. "Who the hell are you, even?"
"I am an old friend of his."
"Liar. You don't look more than twenty. If you knew my grandfather, I would know you."
"Hey, what's your problem?" Yang said, slapping her hand down on the table. "He's just trying to be nice."
"Butt out," the innkeeper snapped at her. He snatched the lien from the table and shoved two keys at them. "Here. Rooms 212 and 213. Will that be all?"
"Why you...!" Yang began, before Kenshin suddenly cut her off.
"Thank you," he said, bowing his head gratefully. "Might I trouble you for a meal?"
"We got some potato soup and bread. Take it or leave it."
"That sounds delicious. Yang?"
"Pass," she said. Given the attitude on this guy, she wasn't sure if he would do something like spit in her soup.
The innkeeper returned a few minutes later with a bowl of lukewarm soup and a plate of partially stale bread. Kenshin ate it without any fuss, though it left Yang fuming.
Some customer service, she thought. Why isn't Kenshin saying anything? Looking around at what everyone else was eating, it was clear that the innkeeper had deliberately given Kenshin the worst of the lot. But if the man who was being mistreated like this himself would not say anything about it, then there was nothing she could do.
Instead, Yang decided to continue her search here. She pulled out her scroll and brought up the picture of her mom and showed it to the innkeeper.
"You ever seen this woman before?" she said, more demanding for an answer than asking for one.
The innkeeper squinted at the scroll for a few seconds. Yang almost wanted him to say or do something stupid. Go on, give me a reason, she urged him in her mind. Do it. But eventually the innkeeper shook his head, and said simply, "Never seen her."
Yang snorted. She pocketed her scroll and stood up to leave. She did not want to stay here any longer than was necessary. "I'll see you in a bit, Kenshin."
She left the inn and struck out into the town. None of the buildings were more than two stories tall, and the roads and streets were either paved in dirt or cobblestone. There were few cars or modern vehicles of any sort, and more often than not Yang would see a horse-drawn cart trundling down the streets instead. To get from one end of the town to the other, it took her only thirty minutes of walking, and that was at a leisurely pace.
Many people were out in the streets, passing away the time by talking with their friends and neighbors. But like in the tavern, they would all stop and stare as Yang passed by. Unlike in the tavern, however, Yang did not feel as much hostility from these people. Instead, there was a curiosity in their eyes, though tinged with contempt and derision. It was not until a kid came bounding up to her that she learned why.
"Why are you dressed like that?" the child asked innocently.
Yang looked down at herself, then back at the kid and frowned. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"
"I can see your belly button! And your boobs!" the child replied, giggling, and then ran off to join his friends, who were waiting for him a distance away, also laughing.
As they left, Yang turned to a nearby window and looked at her reflection. She wore a pair of shorts that revealed most of her legs down to her boots, and a yellow shirt with a brown jacket over that showed off a little cleavage. In her eyes, there was nothing particularly audacious about this outfit, and in Vale no one cared. These were normal clothes.
But then, I'm not in Vale, am I? Yang thought. She looked around and noticed for the first time just how conservatively everyone was dressed in relation to her. The most amount of skin anyone else was showing were their faces and arms when they wore t-shirts. Yang sighed and headed back to the inn. She had some spare clothes that covered up more, and while she rather liked the clothes that she was wearing now, as the saying went: When in Vacuo, do as the Vacuans do.
But upon returning, Yang found herself bereft of the desire to leave again. She was surprisingly exhausted – not physically, but mentally. It had been nothing but one annoyance after another today. Now, she wanted nothing more than some time to herself.
It was funny, but she had been looking forward to coming to Augustine. Given its history, she thought it would have been far more impressive than it was. This was a letdown.
Yang went to her room and flopped herself down on her bed, taking out a small plastic bag of snacks and a traveler's guide from her traveling sack before she did. As she ate, she skimmed through the book and its maps and charted out the course she intended to take. Thinking about where she planned to go next helped to take her mind off this town.
Let's see, I can either go back north to Seaport and take a ship to Mistral, or I can ride west through the rest of Vale for Vacuo.
Yang mulled over the two options for a while, glancing through the guide for reference. Both options had its pluses and minuses. Yang wasn't sure which she should take.
Maybe I'll flip a coin for it, Yang joked to herself.
Once she finally made her decision, Yang spent the rest of the afternoon and evening watching TV or playing games on her scroll. It was a dull way to pass the time, but relaxing. By the time Yang turned off the lights to go to sleep, the frustration she felt over the day's events had largely melted away. Yet even so, as she laid there staring up at the ceiling, she could not stop her mind from returning to those thoughts. The rude innkeeper. The child. The way the people were staring at her, eyes full of suspicion. Their mysterious attackers from the night before.
It was on that last thought that Yang lingered on the longest. Who were those people? Simply bandits? Perhaps. But were bandits actually so willing to operate that close to a town's walls? She would not have thought that was likely, but who could say for sure?
"Oh, yeah. Crap," Yang muttered.
She had forgotten to ask Kenshin about how he had sensed those bandits the other night. But perhaps that was for the best. She had not heard Kenshin leave his room even once since she had come back. He must have been extremely exhausted from staying up all night to stand guard. Yang felt guilty for that. I should pay him back for that when I can.
Click.
Yang's eyes flashed open, and she shot up to a sitting position. She stared at the door and blinked a few times. Was she imagining things, or had the lock on her door just been undone?
Nope, definitely not imagining things, Yang thought as the door's handle slowly twisted open.
A man entered her room, creeping softly along the ground. He carried a long knife in his hands, and was soon followed by two others armed much the same. When they saw Yang staring at them, they stopped and stared back. For a moment neither side moved. Then the lead intruder said dumbly:
"You're not supposed to be awake."
Yang leaped off her bed, kicking off with such force that the wooden frame snapped. With a shout, Yang smashed her bare fist directly into the man's face. Before his companions could react, she spun around and stomped her foot down on one of their legs, just above the knee. That one dropped down low, and Yang threw a roundhouse kick at his head, kept spinning to the side, and delivered a second similar kick at his companion, though at a higher angle.
Within seconds, all three were lying on the ground, groaning or unconscious. Yang had no time to ask questions, however. Next door, she heard a noise. They were after Kenshin as well, Yang realized. She jumped over the downed men and rushed into Kenshin's room, practically ripping the door off its hinges as she surged inside.
Kenshin was awake and fighting... if it could be called that. He was doing his best to avoid the knives, but there was something clearly wrong with him. He stumbled drunkenly with every step, and he had not even drawn his sword from his hip.
Just as before, Yang quickly knocked out these attackers. Then she was at Kenshin's side, shaking him carefully by the shoulder.
"Hey, Kenshin," Yang said urgently. "What's wrong? Hey!"
"Food..." he groaned. "D... rug..."
"Drug? You've been drugged!?" Yang knew that damn innkeeper was no good. "Okay, I'm sorry about this, but open your mouth."
Before Kenshin could even respond, Yang jammed her fingers past Kenshin's teeth, reaching for the back of his throat. She touched his Adam's apple until she felt Kenshin hitch. Then he vomited all over the floor, as Yang firmly pounded him on the back.
"Wait here," Yang said, wiping her fingers off on her shorts. "I'll grab my keys. We're getting outta here."
More noise was coming from downstairs. As Yang left the room, she saw another group of armed men rushing up the stairs. Thinking fast, she picked up one of the fallen attackers and threw him bodily at the rest. They fell backwards like a line of dominoes. Yang rushed back into her room and grabbed only two things: her shot gauntlets, Ember Celica, and Bumblebee's keys. Then she was back with Kenshin, helping him stand. Even as dazed and nauseous as he was, he still held firmly onto his sword.
Their attackers had regrouped and were coming back up. Yang raised her arm up in the air and fired off a single shot. The bullet ripped open a hole in the ceiling, and a thin trail of sawdust and splinters fell to the ground. That got their attackers' attention, and they immediately froze where they stood.
"Get out of my way or I will shoot you," Yang snarled, leveling her hand at them.
Hesitation flashed across the attackers' faces. But then the innkeeper shoved forward from the back, a cleaver held in his hand.
"Don't listen to her," he said. "Once we find the Font, nothing she does to us now will matter. Kill her!"
As one, the attackers roared and charged up the stairs. Yang shoved Kenshin off her, throwing him back. Then she jumped and smashed her fist down at the top of the stairs, supplementing her blow with a perfectly timed blast of her gauntlets. There was a flash of fire as the force of her strike blew up the stairs, causing the innkeeper and his companions to all fall in an ungainly heap of bodies and wood.
"Sorry 'bout that," Yang said to Kenshin as she picked him back up and placed him on her back.
"S'okay..." he slurred back.
Yang broke open a nearby window and jumped outside. She hurried over to the stable, her keys already in hand, but when she saw Bumblebee she cursed and skidded to a halt.
The tires had been slashed.
"Oh, they are so going to pay for that," Yang growled.
Yang turned and ran away from the inn, though she did not know where to go. They could not leave the town on foot: the Grimm would kill them with many times more certainty than the innkeeper's plot. But there was also nowhere for them to go. She didn't know anyone, so she didn't know who could be trusted. For all she knew, the entire town could be part of the conspiracy!
"This way! They went over this way!"
Glancing over her shoulder, Yang swore and picked up her pace. As a huntress she was faster than any of them, but they knew the town better than her. As proof, slowly but surely she could hear their voices getting closer.
Then a woman appeared, rounding the corner up ahead. For a moment Yang thought she was one of their pursuers, given how hard she was breathing. But when she saw Yang and Kenshin, instead of calling out to the others she quickly motioned for them to follow.
"This way," the woman said. "My house is over here. You can hide there."
Yang nodded and followed after the woman. Minutes later, they were inside a small two-story house and the door was slammed and locked shut behind them.
"Thanks," Yang said. It was only then, underneath the hallway's lighting, that Yang could clearly see their rescuer's face. Anger swelled up inside of her. "Wait, I know you. You're that barmaid from the inn!"
"Yes, yes, I am, but I'm not your enemy," the barmaid said quickly, putting her hands up in a placating manner. "My name is Cerise. I overheard my brother and his friends' plan to kill the two of you, and I'm trying to stop that."
"Your brother?"
"The innkeeper."
Yang groaned. "This is all kinds of messed up."
"Come with me, we should lay your friend down on the bed," Cerise said as she led them upstairs to a bedroom. "What happened to him? Was he injured?"
"Drugged," Yang replied. "Your brother slipped drugs into his meal this morning. I already had him puke."
Cerise frowned and stared at Yang. Then sighed and shook her head. "Oh, child. I know you meant well, but that was hours ago. By now the drugs have almost certainly gotten into his bloodstream. Making him vomit would only weaken him further."
"I didn't know," Yang said shamefully.
"What's done is done," Cerise said. "Fortunately, I doubt my brother used anything too potent. If he had, then he would have just killed him with poison."
"Will he get better?"
"I believe so, but I can't say for sure. I'm not a doctor."
"Well, can't we get one?"
"The town's doctor is one of those chasing after the two of you now."
"What about the sheriff or something? They all need to be locked up."
Cerise winced. "He is also a part of it."
Yang threw her hands up in the air. "Of course they are. What the hell is wrong with this place?"
"Please don't blame the townsmen," Cerise sighed. "It is not all of us; only my brother and his friends. They've become so consumed by their desire for that damn Font that they think any outsider who comes to our town is here to steal it from them."
"Your brother mentioned that, back at the inn. What is this 'Font' you guys keep talking about?"
"It's an old story Grandpa used to tell us when we were kids," Cerise said, waving her hand almost dismissively. "An urban legend, nothing more."
"Considering that's the reason why they're trying to kill us, you mind telling me?"
Cerise sighed. "The Font of Immortality. According to Grandpa, back during the Great War there was a young warrior who came to Augustine while it was under Mistralian control. He sought to liberate the town, but he and his allies were too few, and the enemy was too many. So he searched and searched for a way to overcome his enemies, and eventually he came across a hidden font of water. He drank from it deeply, and from that moment forward... he became immortal." Cerise shrugged. "As I said, it is only a story. My grandpa loved to make up stories to tell us, and he's senile besides. If you ask him to tell the same story twice, you'll get two different stories."
"No... such thing as... immortality..."
Yang glanced over at Kenshin. Those few words seemed to have taken all his strength. Cold sweat now beaded his brow, and he moaned incessantly.
"Kenshin's right," Yang said. "That's crazy. They're trying to kill us over a bedtime story."
"That may be, but they won't stop until they succeed," Cerise said. "Even if they're killed, they think that the Font will even be able to resurrect them from the dead. That's why, come morning, you must leave Augustine. I will help you get out."
"Nuh-uh." Yang crossed her arms and shook her head. "I left all my stuff back at that inn. I'm not leaving without Bumblebee. And I'm not gonna be satisfied until I knock some sense into your brother and his friends."
"Listen to me," Cerise said, seizing Yang by the shoulders. "Though my brother may not trust outsiders, he has a small group of huntsmen under his employ to help him in his search. You were lucky tonight. They were searching for the Font outside of the town walls. But there is no doubt my brother will recall them now to help him deal with the two of you."
Yang brushed Cerise's hands off her. "Any huntsman that lets himself get hired by that nutjob has to be a quack. I'm a huntress too, y'know. I don't plan on going down easy."
"You are as mad as he is, then," Cerise exclaimed.
A creaking noise from outside the room killed whatever words were about to form in Yang's mouth. An utter silence took hold of them all. Then the door open, and an old man with skin so wrinkled and spotted that it looked like an old piece of crumpled parchment poked his head inside and looked around, blinking owlishly.
"Ceri, you here?"
"Oh, Grandpa," Cerise sighed. "What are you doing up this late? You should be in bed."
"Where's my turtle? I want my turtle."
"Grandpa, you haven't had a turtle in thirty years. Come on. I'll get you a snack, so why don't we go back to bed, okay?"
"Okay."
Before she left, Cerise said to Yang, "There's a couch in the living room. I'll get a blanket out for you. Get some rest."
"No, I'm fine," Yang replied. "I'm going to keep an eye out in case they come here."
"I doubt they will. This is the last place they'd think of searching."
"Still, just in case."
"Suit yourself. I'll put a blanket out in case you change your mind, anyway."
Cerise left with her grandfather, leaving Yang alone with Kenshin. He was still groaning softly, and already the pillow was soaked in his sweat.
"Looks like it's my turn to stand guard all night," Yang said. She chuckled, without any actual mirth.
"Then I may rest easy," Kenshin whispered back, for that was the best he could do. "Thank you."
Yang smiled. "Just get some sleep. We'll figure something out in the morning."
Dawn came slower than Yang thought it would, slower by far than she ever believed possible. Every second of every minute of every hour seemed to pass by at a crawl, but eventually light did begin to peer through the window curtains, a great glowing sword stabbing the darkness.
Yang stifled a yawn as Kenshin slowly began to stir. It had been easier than she thought to keep watch all night, but that was only because of her concern for the ailing swordsman. It was not infrequently that he would suddenly groan or begin to shiver or give some other sign that his condition was worsening, and she would panic. But eventually he became still, stopped making noises, and seemed to breathe more easily. And finally his eyes opened, and he slowly sat up.
"Hey," Yang asked. Her words were slightly slurred from exhaustion. "How're you feeling."
Kenshin did not answer right away. Instead he flexed his hands into fists and slowly rolled his shoulders. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly placed his weight on them, standing up. Only then did he smile, and nod at Yang.
"Better. Much better. At the very least, I should no longer be a burden on you. I apologize for that."
Yang waved her hand dismissively at the comment. "Don't worry about that. I should be the one apologizing, about before. I guess I made things harder on you when I made you... y'know." She mimed a gagging gesture.
"You cannot be blamed for that." Kenshin retrieved his katana and tied it to his hip. "I doubt you were ever trained on what to do when someone has been drugged. The Grimm do not use such methods, after all."
"Hm," Yang grunted. She stood up and stretched, yawning once again. "What do you think we should do now?"
"Though I would much rather prefer to allow you some time to rest, we do not have the time now. We must put an end to this, before it gets any worse."
"You don't need to coddle me." Yang grinned and pounded her fist into her hand. "I'm ready to kick some butt."
"If we are lucky, it may not come to that." Kenshin grimaced. "Miss Cerise's brother has made a grave mistake."
"You're telling me," Yang snorted. "When I get my hands on him..."
Kenshin cut her off. "That is not what I mean. It is about this Font of Immortality. But we should find Miss Cerise before I say any more. She deserves to hear the truth as well."
"The truth?" Yang pursed her lips and frowned. "All right. She should be downstairs."
But no one was there, save for Cerise's elderly grandfather. He was sitting in an armchair in front of an unlit fireplace, a thin trail of drool dribbling down his chin.
"Cerise?" Yang called out tentatively. "You here?"
"There is no one else here," Kenshin answered promptly. "Miss Cerise must have already left."
"You don't think she went to go tell her brother where we are, do you?"
"That is highly unlikely. If she were on her brother's side, then she would not have sheltered us. Nor would she have left us alone with her grandfather."
"I know that, but still... it's suspicious."
"Perhaps she left us a note of some kind telling us where she went."
Yang took a quick look around the room, until her eyes settled on a piece of paper sitting on the coffee table. It read:
Child,
I have gone to collect your things. Stay where you are. I will be back as quickly as I can.
– Cerise Dee
P.S. Please keep an eye on my grandpa while I'm gone.
In an instant, guilt and horror both swelled up inside of Yang. When she refused to leave without her belongings, she never imagined that Cerise would try to fetch them for her. It had always been her intent to reclaim them herself. But regardless of her will, Cerise had thrown herself into danger. If her brother caught her taking Yang's belongings, he would know then and there that she must be sheltering her.
"Kenshin," Yang began to say, only to cut herself off when she found him kneeling before the elderly man so that they were eye-level with each other.
"Raymond," Kenshin said warmly, "it has truly been a long time."
"Battousai? S'that you?" Raymond blinked at him. "Is it time to go already? The captain give us the marching orders? I haven't had lunch yet."
"We are not marching anywhere." Kenshin smiled and gently patted Raymond's hand. "Take your time and eat. Shall I bring you some food?"
"Hey, what say you and I get some whiskey?" Raymond grinned. "Now that's a real man's drink, right there."
"Please, have mercy," Kenshin said lightly. "You know that I am not as strong of a drinker as you are."
"Ah, you always say that," Raymond scoffed. "But all my best stories are only for when you're drunk."
"Yes. Perhaps some other time, then."
"Kenshin," Yang said softly, breaking into the conversation. "We have a problem."
The swordsman looked up at her, the warm smile on his face melting into a stern frown. "What do you mean?"
Yang showed him the paper. He took it and furrowed his brow. He read through the contents slowly, his mouth moving silently with every word.
"No," Kenshin whispered when he was done. His eyes grew wide; the paper crumpled in his fist. "Miss Cerise is in great danger."
"Should we go after her?"
Kenshin bit his lip. "It may be that our attempt at a rescue will be the very thing that reveals her to her brother, if she has not been caught already. And yet... and yet if we do not, if she has been caught, then she will never escape on her own."
"Then I say we go," Yang declared. "If she's been found out, then she needs our help. If she hasn't, then we can still protect her."
"Agreed." Kenshin turned to Raymond. "Please wait here, old friend."
"Huh? Where you goin'?" Raymond said. "Hey! Battousai!"
But by then Kenshin and Yang were already running out of the house. They sprinted down the road, drawing attention from the passersby. Yang glanced to the side and saw Kenshin sweating profusely and his breath running ragged. The effects of the drugs had not fully flushed out of him, it seemed. Despite that, when Yang tried to slow her pace, Kenshin simply moved on ahead. Regardless of his condition, he had no intention of delaying even a second longer than was necessary.
They arrived at the inn. Bumblebee was still in the stable, its tires still slashed. Kenshin placed one hand on his scabbard, and said, "They are in there. They know."
"Do we go in?" Yang asked.
"Yes."
They went inside, the door swinging shut behind them, and immediately they were surrounded by a gang of over a dozen men. Most of them were the same faces from last night, but four were new. These, Yang realized judging by their weapons and armor, were the huntsmen the innkeeper had employed.
The innkeeper himself was there as well, holding onto his sister by the arms. Yang's bag and keys lay scattered on the table beside them.
"I never would've thought that my own sister would turn on me," the innkeeper said, glaring at them. Then he looked at Cerise and shook her roughly. "Don't you get it? Our grandpa is dying. This is our only chance to save him!"
"Let go of her!" Yang shouted.
"Release your sister," Kenshin said almost at the same time, more calmly than Yang. Yet his words were not without a razor edge of steel, one that brooked no arguments. "She has done nothing to warrant such cruelty."
"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" There was a wild gleam in the innkeeper's eyes as he whirled upon them, dragging Cerise around with him. "I know what you're here for. You want the Font, just as we do. Well, you can't have it. You're outsiders. Uninvited. I won't let you take what belongs to my grandpa."
"Listen to me," Kenshin said firmly. "You are making a mistake. There is no such thing as a Font of Immortality. That is nothing more than a fanciful tale your grandfather told you to entertain you."
"I said shut up!" the innkeeper roared. "What do you know about me? About my grandpa?" He looked at his huntsmen and pointed at Kenshin and Yang. "Well? What are you waiting for? Kill them!"
The team of huntsmen moved in, weapons bared. One carried an enormous axe-blade; the second a gunlance; the third a crossbow with Dust-tipped bolts; and the last a pair of over-sized swords with a rotating Dust barrel on each. Yang brought up her fists to prepare herself for a fight, but before she could even think about moving, Kenshin disappeared.
It was like watching a red wind blow the huntsmen about. In a fraction of a second, all but the crossbow-wielding huntsman were on the ground, their Auras flickering across their body in the telltale sign of its shattering. Standing between them all was Kenshin, his katana drawn. It was the first time Yang had seen its naked steel, and instantly she noticed what a peculiar sword it was, for its edge was on the wrong side of the blade. Where the sword should have been sharp, it was blunt; where it should have been blunt, it was sharp.
Yang's eyes moved to the downed huntsman. A jaw had been broken, an arm smashed, and one lay on the floor with blood trickling down his forehead. Yang could not believe that these huntsmen had been so weak as to be defeated this easily; their Auras had been destroyed with a single blow. Did that mean that Kenshin was so far beyond them in strength that he made what power they had trivial?
No, that wasn't it either. He was strong and fast, certainly, but there was something else about his attacks that Yang could not quite put a finger on. It was as if there was a different quality to them, though she knew how little sense that made.
The others were staring all in shock as well. Yang was the first to recover. She fire a shot from Ember Celica at the crossbowman, sending him flying through the wall. He quickly got back up, raised his crossbow, then seemed to think better of it and ran the other way.
And then it was just Yang, Kenshin, and what remained of the innkeeper's co-conspirators.
"I have heard the story your grandfather told you from your sister," Kenshin said, as if he had not just knocked out three men. "A warrior who sought to liberate this town, and in his search discovered a hidden font of water from which he attained immortality, was it?" He sighed and shook his head. "Raymond has always had a fondness for embellishments."
"What the hell are you talking about?" the innkeeper said, somehow managing to pluck up the courage to stand defiantly before Kenshin. "Quit talking like you know my grandpa."
"I do know him, as I told you already," Kenshin said. "I am the warrior in that story. He and I... we once fought side by side in the Great War."
"You... you're him?" The innkeeper's eyes grew wide. He shoved Cerise aside, who yelped, and rushed forward to cling to Kenshin by the collar of his haori. "Please, you must tell me where the Font is. It is the only way to save Grandpa. He's dying."
Kenshin peeled the innkeeper off of him. "As I said many times now, there is no such thing as a Font of Immortality. What your grandfather based his story on, what has allowed me to live from then until now, is nothing more than my Semblance: Longevity. I still age... only slower than everyone else."
"You're lying, you're lying..."
"There is no such thing as immortality."
The innkeeper stepped away from Kenshin, raising an accusatory finger at him. "How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know you're really the warrior from my grandfather's story?"
"If it will bring an end to this madness, then I will gladly go with you to Raymond so that he may verify my identity."
"Grandpa has been senile for years. You'd probably just try to trick him."
"Shall I tell you all that I know of him from the days of our youth?"
"Cerise could've told you all that!"
"He called him battousai," Yang interjected. "Does that mean anything?"
"That... grandpa told us that's the name of the warrior. That doesn't prove anything, though. It could have been a case of mistaken identity or something."
"Brother, Grandpa hasn't said that name in over a decade, and he's never called anyone by that name before," Cerise said. "Face it. He's telling the truth."
"I... I... I..." The innkeeper crumpled to the ground, his head bowed in defeat. "I just wanted to keep Grandpa alive."
Silently, Kenshin sheathed his sword. He turned on his heel and left the inn, with Yang following closely behind after she gathered her bag and keys.
"Is it okay to just leave him like that?" Yang asked. "Shouldn't we... I dunno... do something about him?"
"There is nothing more to be done," Kenshin answered. "We cannot imprison him, and I will not kill him. Besides..." Kenshin glanced over his shoulder. "... he has learned his lesson, I think."
Yang shrugged indifferently. "If you say so."
"What of you? I thought you wanted to 'knock some sense' into him."
"Yeah, well, you kinda already did that for me. I'd feel bad if I beat up someone who's already been beaten... no matter how much they deserve it."
"You are very kind," Kenshin said dryly.
"Mmm... no promises for tomorrow, though."
"Tomorrow?" Kenshin gave her a quizzical stare. "Why? What is happening tomorrow?"
"I'm going back there to get money to replace Bumblebee's wheels," Yang stated. "They broke it, they pay for it. And if they refuse... then I'll beat them up."
Kenshin chuckled and shook his head, smiling all the while.
"By the way, can I ask you something a little personal?"
"What is it?"
"You said you've been around since the Great War, right?" Yang leaned in towards him expectantly. "How old are you, really?"
"Uh... let me see..." Kenshin frowned and began counting off his fingers. "I was fifteen when the War began, and that was ninety years ago, so I think I was..."
"You're 105 years old!?" Yang exclaimed. Then she blinked, grinned, and punched Kenshin lightly on the arm. "Heh. Well, at least you can say that you age well."
The two of them laughed, and the troubles of these past few days seemed to melt away. All the stress, exhaustion, and pain vanished without a trace. Yang remembered that pleasant feeling from when they shared the campfire, simply talking and enjoying each other's company. It was a shame, she thought, that all this was soon to end. Regardless of all that had happened, she had not known it could be so fun traveling with someone else.
Unless...
It was a new day, and the sun had already risen clear above the horizon. Yang sat on Bumblebee outside of the town gates, idly passing away the time on her scroll and by throwing a smug grin at the cocky guardsman who stood on top of the ramparts every so often. Every time she did, he would scowl at her. She didn't know why it felt like a small victory, nor did she expect that the guardsman would be able to tell her either, but it was what it was, and she took it.
Eventually a familiar red-haired man came walking down the road, coming out of the gates. When he saw Yang there, he tilted his head slightly at her.
"Oro? I had believed you already left."
"Well, I wanted to ask you something before I go," Yang replied. "You said that you're a wanderer, right? Is there anywhere you're planning on going next?"
"I have no such plans. I will go where the road leads."
"In that case, you wanna come with me?" Yang said. "It'll be more fun traveling with a friend than by yourself. We can be road trip buddies."
Kenshin blinked at her, then chuckled. "It has been a long time since I have traveled with someone else, and I will admit the roads have become lonely as of late. If you will permit me, then I would be most grateful if you would allow me to accompany you on your trip."
"Great!" Yang cheered. "Hop on. Next stop: Seaport. We're going to Mistral!"