Ch12: Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time


"Bullying? My Pyrrha? Headmaster, don't be ridiculous, she would never."

Emerald eyes stared into darkness.

They couldn't be convinced to close for some reason, some strange force keeping Pyrrha from joining her teammates in dreamland. She tried her back, her front and side, but it all amounted to nothing. The abyss glanced back, took interest with a lusting grin, then drew her to it.

But then Pyrrha sat up, dispelling the creature. Pajamas discarded, jeans and a hoodie replaced them. The clock advised her against the idea, just past midnight, there was no good reason for her to be out so late.

The clock went ignored.

She crept to the exit, looking around the room for any sign of a stir. Nora was a mess in motion, as usual, while Ren by contrast was practically a dead body. That should have been the green light, but her eye strayed… and lingered on her partner.

His chest rose and fell, a single arm draped over the side. He wasn't out of his clothes yet, which meant he'd been too tired to shower and change. A bad habit but Pyrrha couldn't help a smile.

A smile that quickly fell when dust hit her eye. And she remembered the spray of dirt, thrust into her face. She'd laughing then, hadn't she? Did Jaune know it was only to conceal a snarl? Did he see the hesitation when he raised his fists against her? His face betrayed not a shred of fear, not an inkling of doubt. Only vigor, confidence. The belief that he would overcome the second round. Overcome her.

Pyrrha kept her fingers from coiling.

Then shook the wave of oncoming thoughts away. What was she, a hypocrite? Had she not been the one to encourage Jaune to compete? She should be happy, elated even. Proud that her partner listened to her, stepped into the light and made it his own.

Maybe because he's taking it from you?

One always slipped, leaving a grimace Pyrrha didn't want to see on herself. But it was a feeling that she thought was misplaced - she'd won the second round pretty decisively. Sure round one had been a spectacle, but round two ensured that the ideas running through Pyrrha's head had been just that. Ideas.

There was no way she could ever lose, right?

Pyrrha grabbed the doorknob just as her teeth started to grind. Her arm trembled, hungry for something to break. The door was perfect, ripe to swing up and slam shut. With the hope that it would burn off the bug scratching at her brain. But her father once said that the toughest enemy to kill was the ego.

How right he was.


~Tournament Arc~


The can hit a wall.

On the follow up it clattered into the sewer drain, echoing with the pouring rain. It drenched Pyrrha's hoodie, left her feet squishing in her shoes. But she ignored it all, weaving past businessmen and parties of friends in search of...

That was the question, wasn't it? What was Pyrrha searching for?

Was it around the corner? Well when she turned it, Pyrrha only found more sidewalk. Further down, perhaps beside the hydrant? No, not even. But Pyrrha would hop off the hydrant, skim down the walkway, knocking aside litter with a stray step. She tried to stay bouncy, lively - pep herself up so her thoughts would go away.

Eventually Pyrrha wandered onto a street she didn't recognize, and before she knew it, uptown had vanished. She stared at the overpass as she trudged under it, wondering how much time had passed since she'd left. Heck, she barely remembered the ship ride down. It all just seemed to vanish more and more with each step she took.

I promise, Daddy. I'm gonna be the strongest!

It was a Daddy's girl promise. And yet when he first showed her how to use a spear, she couldn't help but feel compelled to make it real. It was history from there, every day she worked at it, through the sweat and tears, the axe was grinded. Unaware of just what she might do with that axe in the future.

"Hey, let's catch the billboard in the square! I wanna see replays!" A woman said excitedly as she brushed past, dragging her sluggish friend along with her.

Replays? Pyrrha considered the idea, only to find that she'd already begun to follow. But it wasn't just her. As downtown opened up, people flocked like birds. Tall buildings set the scene, assorted colors and smells giving it a festival feel just like back home. Pyrrha beamed as the center of the city commanded her attention, a sea of people gathered in the square for some reason.

"The tournament of destiny!" Letters popped onto the digital billboard, a deep voice resounding throughout the square. "The future Huntsmen, clashing in a test of vigor and valor! Come one, come all to the biannual Vytal Tournament!"

Pyrrha found a bench, people excitedly talking about the tournament as if it has already started. Adults and children alike, they watched the highlights of the preliminaries as though only just now seeing it. And perhaps it was, but it was all the same no matter how many times one saw it. Why was that?

"It has to be Pyrrha Nikos, right?"

Pyrrha nearly leapt out of her skin, ready to break for it in case the person approached. But finding the voice behind her, it was just a man talking to his friend. He wasn't even looking her way.

"That's obvious, I think she has the best chance of winning." His friend responded.

"I know, right?"

Oh, that again. Pyrrha rolled her eyes, of course that's what they were talking about. Pyrrha leaned on the bench arm, a glazed look as she drowned out the conversation.

"But then... maybe she could lose, too."

Shattered glass. Like the windshield of the crashed car, the bubble burst, and Pyrrha's eyes became saucers. The cold was suddenly more apparent, as though an ice cube had been rubbed on her spine.

She could lose?

Pyrrha warred with the statement, and part of her wanted to ask the man exactly what that meant. No, she knew what it meant. Of course she did. It was simple. Pyrrha Nikos, in this tournament, had a possibility of... of...

Pyrrha's hand slammed the bench, the sound thankfully drowned out by the crowd. But to her it was like a door slamming, a gunshot, something that had made her more aware than she was before.

Losing?

A snake slithered up her spine and Pyrrha could only shiver. She blamed the cold, she hadn't brought an umbrella so her body was cold. That made sense. But it wasn't cold enough to put her heart through a marathon. The thoughts were back - the dirt in her face, the clash of fists, a calm facade to hide a beast raging against her fellow who dared to violate the status quo.

No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be...

"Is that all you've got!?"

Raucous cheer rattled Pyrrha out of her stupor, but unfortunately also drew her eyes to the billboard above. Oohs, aahs, screams and shouts - hit for hit the audience was moved like puppets on strings. Their master was clueless, had no idea the type of pull he had on them, had unknowingly taken the attention that had once belonged to another.

Her.

Pyrrha seethed as Jaune fought on, a seemingly unstoppable force as even the combined powers of Weiss, Arslan and Yang couldn't defeat him. They knocked him around, put him into the dirt more times than any regular man cared to tolerate, but Jaune stood up again.

Pyrrha would knock him down. Be it a punch or a kick, Jaune crumbled to her superior skills. It was open and shut, she was stronger than him. She'd land the final blow, and take the second round decisively.

"I. Will. Win!"

Her lips pursed, resisting the urge to bite her tongue. Just... it couldn't be like this, could it? There was just no way. Pyrrha had to win, there was no way she couldn't...

Jaune wasn't a prodigy. That wasn't talent or some other natural advantage. He didn't have a title, a legacy, a destiny. He was normal. A man among the masses. He was the furthest thing from remarkable. Pyrrha would win the Vytal Tournament, that was an absolute.

Right?


The hallway was a wasteland, barren of all life but them. Arslan fought not to tremble, trapped between Pyrrha and the lockers as the rest of the world froze in time. Weakling. How could she be so trapped in her own mind that she didn't even consider running away?

Would she plead? Would she cry? It was a roll of the dice, but no matter which side landed, Pyrrha won. Arslan was weak, an ant before the boot. No matter how good she got, no matter how much she improved, Pyrrha would always be miles ahead. Always.

"Scared, Ars?"

"Please, just leave me alone."

Pyrrha sneered, a satisfying cry as she shoved an old friend against the locker. She crumpled like paper, tears flooding her cheeks as she cowered before her.

Beneath her.


~Tournament Arc~


Hot chocolate to settle her nerves.

A late night coffee shop was an unusual sight for sure, but a welcome one. And Pyrrha wanted, maybe even needed, to get something to warm her up. The only free table was one with a woman in black, but thankfully she kept to herself as Pyrrha took a seat.

Yet even here, Pyrrha wasn't safe. People were gathered amongst their own groups, friends showing recordings of the matches as they all gushed about them. It wasn't quite as prominent as downtown, but wherever she went, the opinions seemed to follow.

"Do you think its gonna be Pyrrha?"

"Oh of course!"

"Well maybe, she has really tough competition this time."

"I kinda don't want her to win again..."

"She does win too much."

"Well Pyrrha is like, the best. Shouldn't the best one win?"

"Eh, that's boring. Let the others have a chance."

"I think that blonde boy has a shot."

It wasn't as if Pyrrha hadn't heard talk like this before. Some people actively hated her, wanted her to lose, she even remembered some trying to cheat in final rounds just to get ahead of her. By no means was this new...

At least, most of it.

There was an apparent divide, a friction in the masses that called into question who would win. The answer should have been obvious, it should have been clear. They didn't have a good reason to doubt, because everything would play out as it was meant to.

But if that was so, why did people think Jaune could beat her?

A chuckle caught Pyrrha's ear. Hot amber was the first thing she thought of when their eyes met, an enticing gaze that somehow convinced her not to look away. Then the woman grinned, no, more liked sneered. "Is it so cold that you can't feel your hand?"

And Pyrrha looked to find her hand, covered in what remained of her drink, the cup crushed in her palm. Her cheeks reddened, and she hid her hand in her hoodie. If only that that would keep the woman from laughing, sadly she wasn't so lucky. "Something funny?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not particularly, just enjoying the night. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Nevermind."

Silence then, yet Pyrrha couldn't help but stare at her. She was strange - beautiful in a way that should have been enticing, but it couldn't be more opposite. The woman's presence stuck out from the crowd, while paradoxically her dark trench coat blended her in the night. "It's interesting, isn't it?" The woman suddenly asked.

"What is?"

"We celebrate years of peace and prosperity with violence." The woman said, watching the projection on the wall of the cafe, "We praise our Huntsmen - encouraging them to seek death in favor of the people's survival. Tragic, but poetic I suppose.

"Sounds like you don't agree with it."

"Should I?"

It was a loaded question, and one Pyrrha didn't have an opinion on so she chose to drop it there. The woman was content not to elaborate on it further and just went back to watching. But the question picked at her like an itch. It felt incomplete, unchallenged. Then Pyrrha found herself speaking before she could stop herself.

"If people told you that you were destined to be a great Huntress, a great hero, would you believe it?"

"Do you believe there is such a thing as destiny?"

Pyrrha frowned at the counter question, but chose to answer regardless. "I'd like to think there is. The idea of a cosmic plan, like the plotline of a book - it makes me feel bigger than I really am. I think there is a role for everyone. That what we are born with, what we are naturally inclined to, shapes that role. We choose, but it all follows the the story, if that makes sense."

"So you choosing to come to this coffee shop was all part of some master plan? You don't think thats sounds restricting?"

"Just the opposite," Pyrrha let herself smile a little, the little fantasy replaying in her head, "I think its the exact answer to explain me. My status, my skill. I'm an anomaly, or perhaps a prodigy - even a blessing to some. I'm a winner. Always have been. If that has always been the case, doesn't that mean its meant to be?"

"I couldn't say. But why fret? If you have never failed, what are you concerned about?"

And wasn't that the million dollar question. It was the same one Pyrrha asked herself for years and yet the answers remained elusive. It was easier to accept that she was overthinking. That, if there was an answer, then she'd have found it by now. But that belief was like a person standing on a narrow ledge. A mere push, a whistle of wind, sent her reality crashing down.

"Neptune Vasilias." Pyrrha pointed at the screen, "He is very good at range, and decent in close combat but overextends too much. It's easy to exploit. Blake Belladonna. Quick, agile, sharp and precise. Her offense is good, her mobility even more so. Her defense is weak however, and she lacks the physical strength to puncture defensive options herself. She has to fight around her opponent, which is far from ideal against me."

There was not a single opponent Pyrrha faced that she hadn't figured out and defeated. She knew them all, their strengths, weaknesses and habits all catalogued in her head.

Shocked eyes, frustrated growls, hesitant movements - all actions Pyrrha's skill forced on her opponents. She didn't need words or unorthodox tricks, it all came naturally. They were shown how futile their were, made to understand the difference between them and her. Confidence killed, they made mistakes, and Pyrrha made those mistakes her victory.

Who was Pyrrha to question it? How could she doubt the ability that had carried her higher and higher over the years?

"What about him, the blonde one?" The woman asked.

Pyrrha's blood boiled instantly, threatening to spring out of her skin, and not even the cold of the night could settle it down. "Good defense, and an aura to bolster it. But that's it. He lacks practice and fundamentals. Its nothing I would worry about..."

"You don't sound certain." The woman's smirk grew, and Pyrrha swallowed the stray desire to knock it off her face. She wanted to say something, tell her all the ways she was wrong but… was she?

"Destiny is such a fickle, uncompromising word that can mean anything to anyone." Pyrrha followed the woman's gaze to the black sky, "Does destiny mean that those who live in the slums will always live there? They say the rich only get richer - is that destiny? Or is it circumstance? Probability? Does personal choice affect us? Can it define us at all?"

And then she turned back to Pyrrha, the smirk gone, replaced with something more significant. It convinced her that she couldn't look away. "Perhaps you are strong, unbeatable even. But what is that without purpose? Direction? What is your existence when gambled on a shield and sword and how well you swing them? Where is your soul, girl?"

Her soul? What did... What did that even mean?

"It takes a rare man, starved for his ultimate desire, to seek it without compromise. Put a wall in front of him and he will tear his fingernails if its get him over it. Have him face a lion barehanded and he won't run away. He can't be wavered. He can't be broken. He can't be stopped."

And as if by design, Jaune's battle cry drew Pyrrha's eyes once more. Swing after swing, he pushed on, a seemingly unstoppable force driven by something Pyrrha couldn't place. He wasn't turning heads with incredible skill or power, in fact, he was the furthest thing from impressive in the visual sense.

So if it wasn't how he fought, or how much skill he had, what was it that drew so many to him?

"You however, are empty." Four chilling words shot up Pyrrha's spine, "You speak of a destined path, but you have no clue what yours is. Who can you hope to be, when you have no idea why you hold onto such a blank identity? Tell me, who are you behind that disguise?"

Pyrrha's heart pounded in her chest, hands shaking freely as she tried to answer. It was easy, just say something, anything to make her eat her words. To prove her wrong. But it lodged in her throat, unwilling to surface. No, the answer just wasn't there. She had no answer. Why?

Why!?

"Or perhaps I'm wrong, but I doubt it. Enjoy the rest of your night… Invincible Girl." Heels clinked like glass as the woman turned to leave, her sneer echoing in Pyrrha's head long after she was gone.


"Look at me, Pyrrha."

Tears stained her face as her father took her cheeks in hand. Her heart quaked at seeing his face, not angry, that might have at least been bearable. But just sad, hurt - like he was looking at an inhuman version of his daughter. One he couldn't recognize... and was disgusted by.

"Does it make you feel good to hurt others? To push them around? When have I or your mother ever taught you that was okay?"

They hadn't. And thinking about it now, Pyrrha never stopped to ask that question herself. Admitting so her father twisted her stomach, but wasn't it a bit too late to feel regret?

"Wasn't Arslan your friend? You two used to get along, didn't you? What changed? Tell me the truth, honey."

Pyrrha's lip trembled. It would have been easy to lie, but her father's stern face strongly advised against.

"She came close to beating me. During class matches." Pyrrha admitted, "She was catching up really fast. It wasn't as easy as it used to be. And I couldn't... I didn't like it."

"So you had to bully her? Crush her confidence so you could keep winning?"

The words were like a parasite chewing through her heart. Each bite driving in a realization she'd neglected to see on her own. "I thought that I had to. Everyone is always saying I'm the best; that I can't lose. But if I do lose, then it'll all have been for nothing."

Pyrrha's gripped the hem of her skirt. "If I don't keep winning, aren't I worthless?"

And her father just stared at her, a stagnant expression that Pyrrha couldn't read. She couldn't hold his gaze any longer and chose her knees instead. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore. None of my friends want to talk to me. They told me so. And I called them dumb, I called them losers for siding with Arslan. I thought I'd be fine without them."

"Sweetheart, can you blame them? Would you want to spend your time with someone that put you down like that?"

No, she didn't. But now she was all alone. Nadir, Bolin… even Reese, they clung to Arslan. Leaving Pyrrha in the dust. Other kids were glad to let her sit with them but… it wasn't the same. Pyrrha flinched when her father stood, facing him upon his order. "Pyrrha, who are you?"

"H-huh?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm… Pyrrha…"

"Are you? Because you don't seem like my daughter. This is not how I raised you. This is not what I taught you." He turned her chin up to face him, "You need to think hard about the kind of person you want to be. You'll live a bitter and lonely life otherwise and neither your mother, nor I will give you an answer, understand?"

Pyrrha watched her father go, drying her face in the wake of spending the rest of the day alone. But then he stopped just before her door, like he hinged on something to add or to leave her as she was.

She wished he chose the latter.

"Kill the ego, Pyrrha, for your own sake."


~Tournament Arc~


She thought she had.

Wet clothes discarded, Pyrrha was in her nightclothes before she knew it. The bed wasn't welcoming, nor was the knowledge that despite walking and thinking for a few hours, she'd come back and it was still the same.

Everything was still the same.

The lump in her throat urged her to wake her partner, to get comfort from his voice. Jaune was good at that. Not giving advice, but just listening. Understanding. He was a great partner, she wouldn't trade him for anything. He might not have been strong, but he was supportive and smart. He was the first to be indifferent to her fame in a long time, and if that hadn't been her saving grace, she didn't know what was.

How could this change so quickly?

What champion feared the run of an underdog? It left a bad taste in her mouth to reflect on it, even though she'd won the second round so convincingly, it seemed like everyone was convinced the fight hadn't been decided there.

And Pyrrha, begrudgingly, agreed.

It was just a ceasefire, a video game on pause. She'd won the physical fight for sure but… Jaune didn't crack. Not even a bit. He'd all but said it, dropped the hammer that killed the confidence Pyrrha had. Now she questioned herself. Now she feared that when their game resumed, Jaune would take away the victory she was so sure was hers. And if he did, what would she be left with? Who would she be if the ideal she knew crumbled?

Pyrrha liked being the winner. It felt good, like she was following through with the expectations set upon her. Was it wrong to not want to fail? Or did it go deeper than that? Going to Beacon was supposed to be the second chance. A change that would hopefully redeem her past mistakes, but her old ways resurfaced, and the crisis she'd thought long gone came with it.

Pyrrha chuckled. It would certainly explain her semblance, wouldn't it? A magnet drawing an usurper to her like a moth to a flame. But she always fought against it. Made it clear everyone's mind that she wouldn't be surpassed. Ever.

She had to become the greatest Huntress, she had to be strongest. There was no wiggle room, she could never fall short. If she did, it invalidated everything.

But now Jaune had stepped up, reignited feelings Pyrrha thought were long gone. If Jaune beat her, did it destroy everything? Was she nothing but a fraud? A failure in the eyes of destiny?

Pyrrha stared at him, moonbeams shone on his face. A spotlight all his own. "Will you take this from me, Jaune?"

I'm gonna win.

The damning words were weightless at first. Pyrrha interpreted them as Jaune saying he'd do his best, Pyrrha was even confident that he could get into Top Sixteen. That would have been fine. Great even, she could hug him and praise him like nothing was ever wrong.

But now, those words meant something more. Something potent. Like a dagger in the heart, it drove the message in, twisted it to ensure the pain was felt. And as Pyrrha could see it, it was no longer just a one off line.

It was a threat.


Yeah, so its been a while.

I hate that this chapter was so short, but I am glad I got something out. Life has been kinda crazy so I haven't been motivated to write. I'm not very confident in this chapter but at some point you just gotta bite the bullet and upload.

To the person who is always demanding I get a schedule, I hope you plan to pay my bills or something because otherwise, its not gonna happen. I don't and have never had a schedule because this is just a hobby.

So Pyrrha's struggle is her identity. She ties her self-worth to her title, if only subconsciously, because she grew up having people put her on a pedestal and have high expectations of her. Hubris, a shield for her insecurity, followed, which alienated her friends from her and caused her to project her frustrations onto Arslan.

But this was an issue she simply shelved instead of solving, and hides this side from Jaune and her friends because she's afraid of what they'll think. There were inklings of it in previous chapters, which hopefully this helps flesh out. But of course, Jaune seeks to win the tournament, and to do so he must tear down the identity Pyrrha desperately holds onto.

Why does she hold onto it? Because its all she knows, all she has ever been told. And that's what her character arc will explore.

If this chapter makes Pyrrha sound arrogant and pretentious, its because she is supposed to. Granted, this isn't like canon Pyrrha at all but eh, canon Pyrrha didn't have much flaws, which is boring. So I wanted this Pyrrha to have a flaw so she can develop more properly. So this is all intentional. If you hate Pyrrha because of this, that was point. It's fine to hate her, because she is supposed to be the main antagonist.

I like this because everyone's initial roles have shifted. Arslan started off negative but is changing now. While Pyrrha feels stilted, confused and angry. I like the idea of a darker side of Pyrrha because I think it makes her more interesting.

Hopefully you guys find this as interesting as I do, and if so, let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed and see ya in the next one!

ISA