Chapter 4

When a merciless sun blasts me with light the following morning, Ruby's already gone. I grasp blearily for my scroll, only succeeding on the third attempt. 6:15. Ugh. Professor Goodwitch's leniency ends today, and that means forcing myself to attend morning conditioning. When I finally drag myself out, I do so on leaden feet, dreading the torture I'm sure is coming my way.

As expected, it sucks. I think I lose a few organs from overuse, especially my lungs. My brutal labor is rewarded with a first class with Professor Oobleck: 'Culture and History of the Hunter Corp.' It sucks too, but not quite as much. He spends a long time going over past battles with the Grimm and the tactics employed by various Hunter teams, which might have been interesting if I wasn't dying trying to keep up. Professor Goodwitch beats me up again. I eat lunch. Professor Goodwitch beats me up some more. There's no sparring yet, so I get to study. Yay. Ruby does not have a midnight meltdown this time. She gets beaten up by obstacle courses three times harder than the first time around, though. I'm still mad about it.

So basically, nothing changes except that everything gets more painful.

The following day after that, as expected, I fail Port's quiz. So does almost everyone else. The only one I know who passes is the arrogant white haired girl – Weiss Schnee, I learn later – and I only know she passes because she won't shut up about it. Port admonishes us for a while and then begins stuffing a new wave of information into our thick skulls. Ruby complains some more. I join her.

We settle into a routine, of sorts. Backbreaking conditioning, mind numbing lectures, spirit shattering weapons training, and then frenzied self study to desperately synthesize the material of the day. I'm kept so busy that I don't even have the energy to complain about it.

The weekend arrives before I know it. Unlike most combat schools, Beacon gives a very generous two days a week off. Part of it is to rest, but part of it is also to catch up. Still, it's reassuring to know they don't want to completely kill us.

Having a break is kind of nice. On the other hand, I have absolutely no idea what to do with my newfound free time. How did I entertain myself again? Pre–Beacon was another life, another Jaune, and trying to remember it is like trying to catch mist in a bucket.

I study a bit. It's become something of an ingrained habit, and if I'm honest I actually enjoy what I'm studying. It's like all the knowledge I'm gaining is a weapon I can someday use against the Grimm. It's hope, I guess, an act of defiance against the fate that most likely awaits me. Well, it's unlikely I'll ever use it. I don't want to fight, and even if I did I doubt I would be allowed to. It's nice to know I have the skills, though.

I'm halfway through Professor Oobleck's rendition of the legendary battle of Sol's Plateau when a steady knock on my door shatters my concentration. Who could that be? Definitely not Ruby. I don't think she even knows what knocking is, she just haphazardly barges into my room as she pleases, which is probably going to result in something very awkward someday. Professor Goodwitch, maybe? Please no. If she wants to give me 'extra lessons' I don't think I could bear the despair.

I open the door when the knocking continues. It's not any of the professors. It's actually somebody I never would have expected. Half of me thought I'd never see her again.

It's Blake.

I immediately realize she's not the Blake I knew. Just the short week since I've seen her has been enough to catalyze a transformation I couldn't have imagined. There are the obvious, surface level signs: bruises and cuts that even her aura hasn't fully healed, corded muscle where there previously was none, slightly shorter hair pulled back into a ponytail she never would have worn. What really shocks me is that her signature ribbon is conspicuously absent, a testament to newfound confidence. I guess the physical changes shouldn't be a surprise. I'm sure she's going through the same hellish training that I am. It's the… other stuff. There's a, I don't know, a kind of guardedness to her that I don't remember. She radiates vigilance, a kind of twitchy preparedness that leaves little doubt she's very, very dangerous.

Like a cornered animal.

"Well look at that," she says with a small smile. "You actually are here."

Her arrival is so unexpected that for a moment all I can do is stare at her, dumbfounded. "Blake? What are you doing here?"

She pushes past me gently, like a shadow through a chasm. "I told you, didn't I? That I would swing by after I finished training?" She eyes my room with the neutral demeanor of factual analysis. "Definitely didn't expect to find you here, though. It was pretty surprising when I went to your house and learned what happened."

My house. My family. "How are they doing?" I force out through a suddenly burning throat.

She glances at me out of the corner of one golden eye. "You know I can't tell you that."

Of course I do. As far as The Council is concerned, for the next year I have no family. Just as Blake has none, and Ruby has none, and every other Hunter recruit has none. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but that's no reason to lose myself.

"Right. I know. Sorry."

Her face is unreadable. She's always been enigmatic, but after so many years of friendship I got to the point where I could mostly tell what she was thinking. But now? She feels like a stranger.

It's hard to imagine it's only been a week.

"So what's the deal with you having aura?" she asked, steering the topic away from dangerous waters.

"I'm something of an anomaly, I guess," I snort with disgust. "Definitely not how I wanted to be special."

"I bet." She waves meaningfully at my face, where cuts and bruises from my recent training sessions lie in grotesque patterns of red and purple–black, every bit as visible as her own. "Looks like you've had a rough time."

"You don't look great either," I shoot back. "Is the White Fang as bad as I hear?"

"Worse," she deadpans. "I've almost died a few times already."

I'm not sure if she's serious. I hope not.

"But you have no idea just how skilled they are," she continues, and her voice takes on a kind of reverence that I find unsettling. This is Blake – no nonsense, practical, shy Blake. Not some air headed fangirl in the throes of hero worship. "There's a reason they train so hard. They win. Yeah, a lot of them die. But at least there's a point to their deaths." A bark of cruel laughter springs forth unexpectedly. "How many other Hunter brigades can claim that?"

"Not something a friend really wants to hear, Blake," I murmur, and there's an unspoken question in there. You're so different. I guess I must be different. Are we still friends?

"Sorry," she says after a tense pause. Yes we are. "Don't worry. If I have to be a Hunter, I'm in good hands. The Fang take care of each other."

It's not the whole truth, but neither is it a complete lie. One of the reasons the White Fang are so good is that they, pretty much without fail, get the most dangerous missions. No matter how good her comrades are, it's only a matter of time.

If what she says is true, however, I can at least hope it's a longer time.

"Could be worse, I guess." I offer diplomatically.

She lounges on my bed like her namesake animal, golden eyes trained on mine with languid comfort. "How about you? I can't imagine Beacon's too easy." She shoots me a lazy smile, and the cold discomfort between the two of us flakes away like dried mud. "If it makes you feel better, you wear the bruises well. Very manly."

"Glad to hear it," I deadpan. "Professor Goodwitch is a generous supplier."

She laughs at that, a low, warm rasp that rolls over me like auditory honey. "You can only blame yourself, you know. You didn't have to come here."

"Can't say the alternatives looked any better."

"That's why we're both here, isn't it?" She smirks. "And you were harassing me about wanting to join the Hunters. Now look at you."

"... Yeah," I murmur. "Wasn't entirely my choice."

She raises a quizzical eyebrow. "What do you–" her previously relaxed eyes tighten to focused slits at the same time she tightens like a coil. "Somebody's coming." She nods towards the open door. "Girl. Small one."

Her hearing's always been good, but she wouldn't have been able to offer such specifics in the past. Before I can comment, a petite scarlet figure sprints into the room, right on cue.

"Jaune! You won't believe what–" she stumbles to a halt, silver eyes wide at the sight of the figure on my bed.

"Who's this?" Both girls ask simultaneously. They size each other up. It's not quite hostile, more a wary kind of curiosity, but I suddenly find myself wishing I could be ten miles away.

"Ruby, meet Blake," I gesture vaguely from the former to the latter. "She's an old friend. We more or less grew up together."

"Nice to meet you," Ruby offers. Her eyes dart to the furry black ears that jut unashamedly from Blake's dark hair, but she makes no other comment.

"Likewise." Blake's twitchy readiness returns with raging force, and she glares at the smaller girl with analytical distrust.

"Blake, meet Ruby," I continue. The urge to shrink into an unnoticeable fleck strengths with every word. "She's my future wife. Or something like that."

Silver eyes flash at me with barely disguised hurt, but for the life of me I can't figure out why.

"What?" Blake blurts out, eyes wide in genuine shock. "Aren't you a Hunter trainee? Why do you have a fiancée? Wait, why did they even let you postpone?"

"It's kind of a complicated story," I sigh ruefully. "My aura's too strong for me to completely get out of breeding duty, but I get a few years off in exchange for Beacon training."

"Still haven't answered why," Blake growls.

"Because I'm fifteen," Ruby interrupts. "So they're letting us wait until I'm older." There's a hint of a challenge to her words, daring the cat faunus across from her to disbelieve.

Blake doesn't rise to the bait. "Fifteen?" she muses. "And they drafted you anyways? That's pretty unusual."

"They really wanted me," Ruby agrees tactfully.

"No lie." Blake's eyes narrow into violent slits. "It was Ironwood's doing, wasn't it."

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "How does everybody know?"

"Because anything that reeks of tyranny is probably Ironwood's doing," Blake spits. "Nobody likes The Council's laws, but at least they're consistent. Ironwood though… he does what he wants. No matter the cost." She laughs pure venom. "And people love him for it."

"He is responsible for some of our best victories over the Grimm," I point out.

"Over piles of Hunter corpses, sure." Her voice drops to a viciously sibilant hiss. "Especially faunus ones."

I offer no response. She's not wrong.

"Well, I've taken enough of your time.." Blake springs off my bed with impossible grace. "I'll see you around, Jaune. Take care of yourself."

"Good to see you." Glad you're alive. "Good luck with… with everything."

Blake gives Ruby a casual half–wave. "Nice to meet you." In a flurry of black shadow, she's gone, leaving only a faint echo of "have fun, love birds," lingering in the air.

Ruby's uncharacteristically subdued silence is starting to unnerve me. She fixes me with a pensive stare.

"You were friends with a Faunus?"

A fiery surge of irritation exploded within me, but I clamp down on it. This question, again? From Ruby of all people? She should know how it feels to be singled out. "Still am friends. And yes. Is that a problem?"

"No," Ruby evades. "Not really. It's just rare."

"Maybe it shouldn't be," I snap, but I instantly regret it when she shrinks backwards. Ugh. What am I doing? It's Ruby – I doubt she has a malicious bone in her body. She probably just meant it as a genuine question and didn't realize how it came across. "Sorry. Touchy subject. Lots of bad memories. You needed me for something, right?"

Her eyes light up, and the dangerous moment passes. "Oh! Right! Professor Goodwitch said we have another assignment."

Is there no end to this suffering? "But I thought we got today off!"

"Different kind of assignment." She hesitates. "This one is part of our, you know, other job."

Oh. Of course. That one.

She hands me a thick flyer. "Here. Take a look."

The flyer is chock full of dense governmental jargon. The letters smash together in barely discernible chunks like canned sardines, but after an intense struggle, I finally manage to make out the gist of the message.

"Mandatory date?" I grimace. "Wait, The Council forces us to go on dates?"

"Yuuup. Gotta make sure we build a nice, strong, healthy relationship so we can raise good, obedient children."

"Great. When you put it that way, it sounds amazing."

"I know, right?" Ruby sighs. "It goes from one to five. I hope you didn't have anything planned today."

I gesture morosely at the stack of textbooks sprawled across my desk. "Only that."

"And that's sure not leaving." She perks up. "Well, look on the bright side! At least we get to spend time together."

"Could be worse." I glance at my scroll. 12:30. Wish I had gotten more notice. "If we want to make it to Vale in time, we have to go now."

She grabs my arm, and before I know what's happening we're flying down the halls at breakneck speed. "Then let's go!"

::-::-::

We rush into the biggest shopping center in Vale, Founder's Plaza, just in time to run our scrolls through one of the ID scanners that dot the cobblestone streets. A cheerful chirp informs us that our presence has been recorded. 12:58. Whew. Made it just in time. I don't know exactly what happens when you're late to a Council mandate, and I'm not planning to find out.

Founder's is packed. It always is, but on a weekend at the peak of the day the crowd is almost suffocating. Vale's blessed with generally temperate weather, but even so the blazing sun is amplified to nearly unbearable levels by the mass of humanity. The surrounding shops with their dust powered air conditioning are filled to bursting.

"Wanna go somewhere quieter?" I have to shout to make myself heard. Ruby nods before taking my hand once more and dragging me forcefully through the crowd.

I didn't go to Founder's much. As a faunus, Blake preferred to stick to the comfort and safety of quieter areas. As Ruby leads me through the unending streets, I lose myself in the twists and turns of row upon row of garish shops, each competing for the flighty attention of the many shoppers.

I used to get bored in Blake's favorite bookstores. Now, I think she may have had the right idea.

The sea of people abruptly parts as Ruby leads me into the sketchiest alley I've ever seen. Its confining walls of ash–grey concrete press together like the jaws of the Grimm, completely at odds with the bright colors and open spaces of the plaza we had just left. I hesitate, but when Ruby enters without a care I have no choice but to follow suit.

She leads me up a set of rickety wooden stairs into a cozy alcove sheltered in between two apartment complexes. Banks of flowers flank a couple of simple benches, and the din of the crowd is present only as an indiscernible mumble. She takes a seat on a bench with a contented flop and pats a spot beside her. I comply. The solid wood digs into me, but it's not altogether unpleasant.

"Are you sure it's alright for us to be here?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. Never got in trouble, though."

"You've been here a lot?"

She turns away from me, towards the people milling about in the distance. Streaks of color bleeding into static blocks. "All the time."

Sitting there, it strikes me. Me in my jeans and dark green shirt, her in a bright red cardigan and a neat white skirt, we look for all the world like a legitimate boyfriend and girlfriend spending time together away from all the chaos. Two kids in love. Not… whatever we are. Two trainees at one of the most intense and dangerous schools in existence.

Two caged birds, locked together at the will of society so that the rest can fly free.

"Isn't it crazy?" I muse as people bustle through the peaceful routine of their lives. "They're just so… careless." Just like I once was.

"And our job is to keep them that way," Ruby declares emphatically.

Or at least our children will.

Saying we enjoyed the time is a bit of a stretch. After about an hour, both of us are bored stiff. We doze a little bit in the warm sunlight, but most of it is spent awake, feeling the seconds drag by. We could talk, but we don't. Even though the crowd is so quiet from this distance, it may as well be a deafening roar. The normalcy bears down with crushing oppression. Talking over it? Impossible.

At any time, either of us could have suggested something else we could do. But we don't. Even Ruby, ordinarily an irrepressible ball of life, is utterly silent.

When it comes down to it, I guess neither of us remember. Not anymore.

The moment the clock hits five, we board a ship back to Beacon. We hadn't said another word.

::-::-::

It's been a few weeks later when Professor Glynda gives me the scariest words so far of my already terrifying career.

"Sparring begins tomorrow."

My head snaps up at her voice, flinging beads of burning sweat across the training room floor. "But there's no way I'm ready."

"Only one way to learn. I've already delayed longer than I would prefer. Besides, you're closer than you think. You learn fast."

Do I? All I know is constant pain and even worse frustration. With no one to compare myself to, my world is comprised of unending failure under her ruthless teaching.

"Could have fooled me," I gasp.

"Don't expect too much," Glynda warns. "The other trainees have been training for much longer. Most of them expected to come here."

Not like me. "If I land a single hit, I'll be proud."

She nods in approval. "A good first goal. Have you made any progress on your semblance?"

"Not at all." Truth be told, I wasn't even convinced I had aura until fairly recently, no matter what The Report said. The rate that my injuries healed at could have just been Beacon's excellent medical technology. The epiphany came during a training session; I had been hit with enough force that most of my right ribs should have cracked. It hurt like the dickens, but I more or less absorbed it. Aura's pretty handy stuff. Nice to know I have a lot of it.

"Keep working at it. Semblances often unlock during intense stress, anyways. Sparring may be exactly what you need."

Well, that was a little bit of hope in what will probably a horrific pounding.

"Professor," I pipe up after a contemplative pause. "What does getting a semblance feel like? Could I have gained one already?"

"Unlikely." Her normally sharp eyes briefly unfocus as she's enraptured in distant memory. "Unlocking your semblance… it's like the light comes on. Something clicks, and the way you look at the world metamorphosizes, and it just makes sense." She shakes her head. "No, you'll know it when it happens."

Sounds nice. I could use a lot more stuff making sense in my life right now.

"Now back to work," Glynda commands. "I worked hard for my reputation for strictness, and I'm not going to lose it because of you."

I… I think she's trying to joke. Professor Goodwitch. Trying to joke.

That's it, I'm dead.

::-::-::

I'm not dead. I probably will be soon.

The sparring ring brings to mind the barbaric arenas of old. Multiple tiers of raised seats surround a scuffed wooden floor like vultures around a carcass. The arena bears the jagged scars and dust burns of countless past matches. It practically radiates bloodlust. I wonder if anyone's died here. With my recent luck, I'll probably be the first.

Glynda walks us through the rules and procedures, but us amassed students hardly hear her. The room thrums with nervous energy, some of it anticipatory, most of it anxious. My own heart is pounding so badly I can barely make out her words over the thump that dominates my ears.

It's pretty obvious stuff, anyways. She assigns opponents, we fight until our aura reaches half, don't try to kill each other, don't die. You know, exactly what rules you would expect to govern a room full of adolescent superhumans about to beat the crap out of each other.

"Very well," Glynda shouts. "First match. Miss Rose and Miss Schnee, please step forward."

We all choke back a collective gasp. One of them: almost universally acknowledged as one of the top three in our year. The other, a plucky kid with the bad luck to be drafted three years early. Glynda certainly isn't easing us into it. The arrogant heiress' dislike for Ruby is practically legendary by this point – something about a humiliating dust accident. I didn't pry. I can't imagine a spar between them going smoothly. Ruby, for her part, is either the most forgiving or most obtuse girl on the face of the planet. She keeps trying to befriend Weiss, of all things. I don't think she's even capable of holding a grudge.

That's alright. I can do it for her.

The two girls take their respective positions on opposite sides of the ring. Weiss draws out an intricate, gleaming silver rapier. Ruby responds by unfurling her unholy contraption of a scythe – Crescent Rose, and she made it herself, as she's informed me many times.

I still think it looks like a glorified lawnmower.

"Begin!" Glynda barks, and with twin blazing streaks of scarlet and silver the battle commences.

Ruby's movement is a bewildering paradox. She's full of uncontrolled motion and wasted energy, but she darts to and fro like sheet lightning through the sheer power of her aura and semblance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a haggard, black haired man – probably the enigmatic Qrow she's told me about – shaking his head, face in palm. Weiss is the opposite: poised and deliberate, but slow. Lazy, even. She's too convinced of her victory, unwilling to pay Ruby the respect she deserves. Somehow, I doubt that will last.

Ruby sprints headlong at Weiss, and Haggard Man's other hand joins it's brother in his face. I can't help but sympathize with him – it's a hasty move that would probably get her killed in a real fight, but at the same time it's a very Ruby thing to do. The Schnee heiress raises an imperious hand, and a positively massive glacier of razor sharp ice crashes into life, bearing down on the tiny red form like a translucent–blue freight train. At Ruby's speed, there was no way anyone could have reacted. The human brain simply couldn't process information fast enough, aura or not.

But Ruby's been through weeks of hellish training by now. Pure reaction without processing has been beaten into her mercilessly.

Instead of becoming a red smear on a wall of ice, Ruby leaps straight at it, and I watch as Crescent Rose carves a wicked slash straight through the barrier. Maybe it is just luck, maybe it's the abuse she's been through, but somehow Ruby finds the thinnest point in the glacier, and the ice explodes into needle–thin shards under the impact. Almost in slow motion, Weiss's eyes widen as Ruby blazes through the new hole in her defenses. The scythe streaks downward. A horrible, sickening, irrational terror seizes me, setting my stomach to nauseating flips. It's just sparring. Training. Surely, nothing bad can happen.

But it will. I know it. The rest of my classmates are watching the match below with attentive eyes. They don't know. But I do. I can feel it.

Crescent Rose tears greedily into a soft, shocked form. Streams of crimson erupt through the air, accompanied by a shrill scream that's too small, too weak, too scared.

A deafening silence reigns over the arena. Weiss is splayed across the ground in an ever growing pool of her own blood. Ruby stands over her, face ghost–white. Crescent Rose rattles in her shaking hands, the liquid evidence of its first meal coalescing into drops that join the puddle on the floor. White is red and red is white.

A sharp whistle shatters the reverie, and a team of medical staff bustle in with practiced efficiency. There's a brief glow as they apply some form of dust, and then they're out, taking Weiss with them. The blood remains.

"What happened?" somebody whispers.

"So fast," someone else responds. "I couldn't see it at all. Did she teleport?"

"And what about Weiss's aura?" someone else chimes in. "Did it just fail?"

Are they all blind? Of course Ruby didn't teleport. She was wicked fast, sure, but you could still clearly make out her motion. And the second question is no less nonsensical. Aura doesn't just fail, it's so integral to who you are that it would be like your brain just randomly stopping.

No, Ruby drained it in one strike.

"Miss Schnee will live," Professor Goodwitch's voice rings out. "She is lucky." Despite her words, she's a far cry from the iron disciplinarian she normally is. She's rattled. We all are.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," she continues. "Miss Schnee is among your best. She is impeccably well trained. But she disrespected her opponent. She was lazy and cocky, and she paid the price in an instance. In battle, no one is ever safe." She pauses. "When you begin your missions, the strongest are rarely the survivors. Remember that."

The shimmering pool of blood torches itself into our memories in silent agreement. As a reminder, it's hideously effective.

None of us will ever forget. Least of all a tiny girl, alone on a desolate floor, left to bear a crushing burden by her lonesome – guilt, shock, terror, loathing.

The whispers will come later.

Monster.

A/N:

I absolutely love reading all your guys' theories. Some are pretty close. All I'll say is that nothing is off limits… Heh heh heh.

There are some definitely out of character moments for Ruby and Blake here. Rest assured that I'm aware of them and they will be explained. Eventually. In the meantime, you are welcome to analyze and interpret.

Thanks for all the responses. You guys are great.