Update, my dad is well! No serious damage and besides a scare, where we almost had to go back to the ER, he's back home and recovering. Thanks for the well wishes and I'm glad to be back to my normal writing routine.

For those of you who find my references, I'm glad because that means we are of the same people XD. This fic is an amalgamation of many different martial arts and fanfiction tropes, so they are there, aplenty.

On with the show!

Cover Art by: BobaFiish

Beta by: Freckles Fiction, Battle W0rn

Round 26

"Jaune?"

Electricity surged throughout his body at the mention of his name. Covering up the movement he turned from the speaker and whistled, a perfect misdirection. The fact the song was off tune, that he reacted to the mention of his name, and how he was at Joan's sitting in the same spot as always, didn't help his case.

The voice tried again, sitting on the opposite seat, "Jaune, it's me."

Starting from a hand that reached out to grasp his forearm, he finally turned to the girl. She definitely was a girl for her hair pulled itself back by a sole bronze band, leaving her face clear and open, displaying a smile filled with warmth. The glow reached up to her eyes and down to her clothes, the entire outfit filled with hues of browns, dashes of orange, and hints of red. Opposed to the last time they met, she was dressed to draw eyes instead of divert them.

Likewise, Jaune had a different motive. "I'm not Jaune, I'm his brother John."

The tinkling of glass answered back, "Really, Jaune, you invited me and I must say this shop is lovely." She raised her hand as Joan passed by. "Miss, may I order an Americano please? No need for cream or sugar, but one added shot. Thank you."

Joan's and several other patrons' eyes locked on to the girl. The barista paused mid pour to stare at the almost tangible glow before shrugging. Pulling a pencil from her apron, Joan wrote down the girl's order and continued the task of running a one woman coffee shop.

Jaune sank deeper into his seat. "Pyrrha, please..."

"Oh, are we playing a game? You are certainly dressed for it," said Pyrrha Nikos, the unbeatable championship fighter, the current opponent to his training partner, and the person he asked to meet while knowing all those facts. "If you wanted to mug me, perhaps you should have asked to meet in an alley neighboring this shop and not inside it."

"Shh, what happened to not wanting others to recognize you?"

"While I am recognized here, it is not nearly as much as my Mistral, especially since I haven't done any promotions yet. The only people who recognize me are the hardcore fans. Fame, when it comes to MMA is fickle, most only care when it's show time. As such it's been a truly splendid vacation, which I will enjoy to the fullest, until media obligations force me to abandon it."

"Is that why you weren't answering any of my calls or messages? Enjoying the scenery?"

He immediately regretted his choice of words as Pyrrha wilted, her shoulders drooping. "I, well, I thought that might not have been a good idea after the revelation during the last fight."

"Pyrrha, I messaged you that being the champion didn't change anything."

"My team thought that wouldn't be such a good idea, considering the expected outcome."

"That's silly."

"Is that not why you're dressed the way you are?"

Jaune took his turn to look away, scratching at his drawn hood, covering his cheeks. "Beacon would cause a scene, for sure, but I'm sure they wouldn't treat you badly… Well, Weiss might say some things, but she's Yang's manager. Qrow is a little prickly, Nora's unpredictable, but Ruby would be nice for sure. You just might have to sign an autograph first."

"Regardless, they advised I stop communication with a potential rival to our gym." The chime of glass returned, if only a bit stilted. "I even informed them of our meeting during the last fight on how you knew relatively nothing about martial arts and had no intention of fighting."

"Funny thing about that," said Jaune, his finger still scratching at his cheek. "I took a fight."

Pyrrha's quirked eyebrow needed a response and Jaune obliged, telling her the entirety of the lead up to deciding a match in a cage was a good idea. He had to stop several times to calm the fighter down when he broached the topic of Cardin. Joan didn't help when she added her own two lien on the subject, especially a certain blond being pushed into the dirt outside her shop. Pyrrha looked ready to apply her many years of training, but settled on knowing he had moved on. They both laughed at the image of him sitting in garbage agreeing to take a fight and she grinned when he reached Beacon's invasion into his home. Pyrrha only spoke once he got to the topic of strategy and performance.

"For a person who has never fought before and is untrained on the ground, hedging your bet on the first two rounds is an admirable strategy."

"Don't you want to win all three rounds though?"

"Winning is winning," said Pyrrha, sighing as if she quoted from a book. "I understand your concerns and I doubt I would agree to that strategy, but for the goal of achieving victory it is a sound one."

"I know, I've been told that at least a dozen times, doesn't make the idea of giving up on a round any better. What if I don't win the first or second round?"

"What if, indeed. Two minutes is very little time to adjust or even to settle into the set styles of the rounds before they're over. Has your gym gone over submissions?"

Jaune nodded. "Only in group classes, for my training we've worked solely on defense."

"I would normally recommend learning at least one submission per position. It gives you something to work toward," began Pyrrha, ticking fingers as she spoke, "It shows that you're active so the referee doesn't deduct points against you for stalling or worse stand you up, it motivates the spirit by giving you a goal other than defense, and lastly, it gives you an opportunity to win the match then and there."

"Sure, argue my point in a smarter way."

"I believe the word you are looking for is articulate."

"I'd do it, but I can barely pass someone's guard, learning to roll into a knee bar or to pretzel someone's joint without breaking my own is a harder word than difficult."

"Challenging?"

"How about impossible?"

"Nothing is impossible, Jaune. If I remember correctly the idea of you fighting in the first place was once impossible," said Pyrrha, sipping at her coffee to hide a smirk. "Have you been taught the arm bar?"

"We're going back into pretzel territory." I laughed at my own inability. "I learned it, sure, but I feel like I'm keeping track of so many moving parts trying to do it."

"What position?"

"The guard?"

"In that case, why not attempt the armbar again, from the mount position? You've just barely broached grappling and I can imagine you feel uncomfortable being on your back." Pyrrha waited for him to nod before continuing, "I recommend you remove one factor by being on top. Really, Jaune, the armbar is a simplistic move. It doesn't require a tremendous amount of flexibility nor does it require an expert knowledge of physiology. You are just bending the arm in the opposite way, until the opponent surrenders."

"If they surrender."

"They always do. No one wants a broken arm."

"Ren mentioned the rear naked choke as the simplest submission when we first started."

"While that may be the case, you have to be skilled enough to get to your opponent's back, no grappler worth their merit will give you the opportunity."

"The armbar, huh?" said Jaune, considering Pyrrha's advice. A suggestion from a world champion must have some weight, right? Ruby would probably kill to be in his position right now.

"It was the first move I learned, contrary to most fights I have now. I had a base in grappling."

"You never go for takedowns."

"I never have to, Jaune. My style is made to remove tools from my opponents," said Pyrrha, waving off his concern at the idea of revealing her secrets. "One of the flaws of being the champion is that the moment when the belt is wrapped around your waist you become the most closely studied fighter in the world, Jaune, and I have been champion for a long time."

"But still. Wouldn't your team be upset?"

"What I am telling you has been discussed on podcasts, interviews, and talk shows for so long, I am mildly shocked they still retain a decent viewer base. Really, Jaune, it's alright. If it helps, I can tell you my style is created with that in mind."

"A style where analyst's attention doesn't matter? I find that a bit hard to believe."

"My style has no signature move, no special combination, no fancy footwork."

"You knocked out your last opponent in one punch."

"She had an opening and I exploited it. The question becomes why did she decide to throw that punch? Just as the media studies me, I study my opponent. I knew she liked to fight close and has a tendency to reach with her right hand to close the distance. I adjusted accordingly." Pyrrha shrugged. "My team and I have perfected this over the years. As they say, 'I'll fight in a way that will take advantage of their flaws and remove my own.' Or something of that sort." Seeing the steam shooting out of his ears as Jaune tried to wrap his mind around the concept, Pyrrha laughed. "In the end, people can study me all they like, but my style is to have no style, except for the one that beats my opponent. However, I believe we were talking about how I started martial arts with grappling."

Jaune took the out when he got it. "Ruby had me start with boxing."

"There is nothing wrong with that approach either, but I started when I was little and my coach didn't want me to receive any hits to my face. My team has done everything in its power to make me succeed. I owe them, if anything, for that. It is my duty and my honor to represent my gym."

"Pyrrha Nikos, the undefeated champion!" shouted a voice.

Pyrrha jumped and turned the other way at the mention of her name, showing perhaps she was a bit more concerned about being noticed than she initially let on. After a peek out of the corner of his eye, Jaune realized the source. A digitally distorted image of a clean shaven man in a suit came into view, the clear cut voice of a news broadcaster shortly followed.

"And her opponent, the championship contender, Yang 'The Little Dragon' Xiao Long. Thank you for agreeing to be here today."

"My manager forced me- I mean, no problem at all Cole," said the slightly pixelated Yang.

"It's Coal, but yes, how has your training been?"

"Last time I had trouble with the cut. This one is going smooth. Training is good, cardio is better than ever, and I'm ready to bring it."

"Can you tell me your plan to defeat Nikos?"

"It's simple. I'm going to knock her out."

"The champ's had many people who claimed they would do the same. What distinguishes you from the many others who couldn't breach her defense?"

"I've seen her fight. I've seen her opponents, they all crack. They can't take the hits, the pressure, and they get sloppy for it. I'm not one of those people. If Vernal couldn't break me after smashing my nose and cutting me open, then you can be sure, the soon to be former champ, won't be able to."

"Speaking of The Phoenix, your media coverage and promotion leading up to that fight have been called crass, aggressive, and I quote from the champ, 'disgraceful'. Can we expect the same for the next couple of weeks leading up to the fight?"

Yang sighed and scrubbed at her face, to the gasp of someone offstage and the twitching of the interviewer's eyebrow. "Look, talk shit get hit, alright? Nikos hasn't done that yet, so we're cool. We fight. I win. We shake hands. That's it, simple."

"It looks like we're running out of time, I'm sure all of Vale would love to get a homegrown champion. What are your final words to all of us and the champion?"

Yang turned to face the camera as a smile, full of teeth, pulled at the skin of her lips. "I'm going to take you into deep waters. If you think I'm going to quit, you have another thing coming. Fair warning, but this will be a war. Only way to win is to knock me out." Yang enunciated the next sentence word by word. "I would love to see you try."

The final farewells of the interviewer were cut short as the teenager, whose scroll both Pyrrha and Jaune had been spying on, ended the stream. Turning back to each other with Yang's words hovering overhead, killed the conversation where it stood.

"You know, I'm grateful toward Beacon," said Pyrrha.

Jaune's eyebrow rose. "Yang just promised to punch you in the face."

"She may have, but if Vernal had come out the victor of their fight, there would be a huge smear campaign. I would have her fans screaming at my own, I would be forced to hire bodyguards, and the media would spin it, adding more drama to an already stressful situation."

"I don't know how to put this, but Weiss, her manager, will probably suggest some type of drama to increase attention."

"I would be shocked if she did not, it is her job. Selling a fight is an unfortunate reality, but it is clear your team is going for a different approach," said Pyrrha, swirling the black liquid in her cup. The motion was not for mixing in cream. "From the interview, it's clear Beacon is trying to frame our fight as a the greatest war of wills for the year."

"It still sounds like some type of framing the media against you, with the whole 'homegrown champion' line."

"Perhaps, that is how they will spin it. However, for now, it is still just a fight. For that I thank you and your team. Don't think I'll go easy on her. I look forward to an admirable challenge," said Pyrrha, trailing off. "Maybe, someone else will finally take the spotlight..."

Jaune missed the last line, he was too busy reciprocating the warm smile on Pyrrha's face. "That's great."

"Indeed," said Pyrrha, grabbing her buzzing scroll. Her fingers flew across the screen, exchanging rapid fire messages before she silenced the device, and threw it into her purse.

"Do you have to go?"

"I do not."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright?"

"Grand."

"Okay… How have you been?" said Jaune, digging for a change of subject.

Pyrrha thankfully, replied, "I have been well. Weight cut has been going smoothly, at the moment I'm at the weight I need to be before cutting water. So long as I maintain discipline on my diet I should be fine. Drilling is going well, Vale has a lovely assortment of gyms for us to choose from. Cardio is-"

Jaune interrupted, waving his hands in the air. "No, no, not that. I meant how's everything going? You know, your life outside of fighting?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It is … fine?"

"Was that a question or a statement?"

Pyrrha raised her finger for a second, opened her mouth as if to speak, before letting the appendage drop and lay daintily across her lap.

The gesture repeated several more times, before Jaune tried a different approach, "Well, what have you been doing? After training."

This time her finger floated aloft for three whole seconds.

"What about hobbies or friends?"

The finger raised enthusiastically.

"Outside of training."

The digit dropped and slapped into her thigh.

Jaune's head followed suit, clomping onto the table, rattling the porcelain cups.

From the tops of his eyes, he saw a peppering of pink grow across Pyrrha's cheeks. Stammering, she said, "Well, how about you? What do you do outside of training?"

Jaune stood tall, grinned, and opened his mouth, "That's easy, I do tons of stuff outside of training. Like …" The second sentence trailed off before it could begin, his jaw clicked shut shortly after.

"It looks like the shoe is on the other foot."

"I-I drink coffee."

Pyrrha thrust her cup, the black waves trashed angrily, threatening to spill the liquid all over him. "So do I!"

The sound of hushed whispers started from all around the small shop, luckily the words sounded mostly about the weird duo doing weird things, rather than the redhead's fame. Joan snickered at their misfortune as both Pyrrha and Jaune turned a ruddy, crimson.

Pyrrha woodenly placed her cup on its saucer, sat in her chair, and tucked herself back in. Her fake composure broke when her head mirrored Jaune's movement and slammed into the table, her grumbling muffled by the thick tablecloth.

"You must have something you like to do besides learning martial arts."

"I'm a fighter, Jaune."

"You have to do things."

"All my life, I've trained to be the best. There isn't time for fun."

"Well do you want to do something fun?" asked Jaune, hearing the incessant rumbling from her purse. "Since you have the time."

"I have one idea."

"Alright, let's do it."

"If you are certain…"

~/~

"Bow before your Empress. Grovel under my heel while you cry out for mercy. Perhaps then, you might retain your pitiful existence as my slave. Bow, I say!"

"Never, I know not the word. I shall prevail and strike down your tyranny forthwith!"

"You may try, Knave. You will fail."

"Over my dead body."

Defeat

Blood red letters fluttered across the screen, followed by the overly exaggerated voice of the announcer, screaming the same words. The face character of the game, a rugged man with a red bandanna, raised his fist in the air and turned from view to walk away. Soon after a slew of numbers flooded across the screen, detailing the points of both participants.

However, Jaune cared little for the minute data, it was all superfluous, fluff, trash. The only thing that mattered was his character, strewn across the ground, writhing in agony, in defeat. Jaune joined his character in mutual suffering at both their inadequacies, collapsing across the buttons on the console.

Pyrrha didn't hold back, shouting her victory from across the console.

"What? How?" asked Jaune.

"I have been practicing."

"What happened to saying there was no time?"

"Rest time is for resting and recovery. I do not have the luxury of going out, however that does not mean I sit idle in a dark room."

"So you play video games?"

"Well, I didn't buy a copy of the game until recently. I spent most of my time watching tutorials, reading guides, and finally viewing professional matches. After a bit of notation I started to practice the various inputs on a spare controller."

"Wait, wait. Is this after or before you had a copy of the game?" asked Jaune, placing a few more coins into the arcade machine, selecting rematch.

"Before," said Pyrrha, choosing her character.

"You practiced on a controller before owning a copy of the game."

"I didn't find it necessary until I needed to apply the button inputs into combinations," said Pyrrha, picking the same character, completely unaware of the incredulous look he was shooting her through the console.

Jaune said no more, instead he grumbled to himself and selected another one of his favorite characters. Pyrrha just got lucky.

Defeat

The announcer's voice screamed over the fake cheer of pixelated fans. Pyrrha pumped her fist and Jaune growled for a rematch.

Defeat

Jaune's third and favorite character flew across the screen, slammed into the wall, and dropped into a slump. Pyrrha at this point had started to do a victory jig, accentuated by the clinking of Jaune's last few tokens.

Defeat

Defeat

Defeat

The rounds went on and it only got worse for Jaune, the crimson words signaling his losses flashed across the screen. After running through his favorite characters on the roster, he began to select any at random, in hopes of using a different move set to sneak out a victory. It didn't work. In fact, Pyrrha started to take less and less hits as the matches went on. She knew every counter to every character and even when he selected characters that should have had advantageous moves to Pyrrha's, he still got handily smashed across the ground. Jaune's best guess at this point was Pyrrha had figured out his own innate habits, more so than caring for any character he selected.

"Alright, alright I give," said Jaune, staring into the empty void of his wallet.

Pyrrha hadn't paid once after her first. "Fear not, Jaune. That was admirable competition."

"Says the person who didn't lose." When Pyrrha's pursed lips peeked out from her side of the machines, he changed his pout into a wistful smirk. "You definitely got a lot better."

"It wasn't much."

"You parried one of my moves, that's a two frame window."

"I was rather lucky."

"You parried six fire balls in a row. I even changed the rhythm!"

"It really wasn't that impressive."

That's when the pair realized they had gained an audience, the cheers of most of the people in the arcade roared out, arguing against Pyrrha's statements.

"Holy heck, that was amazing! I've never seen someone do so well with just the vanilla character."

"Blondy, you done? I want to get a round in."

"The guy wasn't half bad either."

Jaune silently thanked the last voice in the crowd, at least he got an acknowledgment for being a punching bag. Standing and moving to her side of the console, Jaune let a new challenger try their hand at dethroning Pyrrha. From experience he could say they were in a world of hurt. Pyrrha's head swiveled around on its axis, doe like eyes, wide as she stared at the various fans surrounding her. Trepidation wafted off her, clear as day, her fingers lingering an inch away from the controller.

For a moment, Jaune wondered if coming to the arcade was a good idea. What if they recognized her? At the very least, he should have paid attention to the fact that they drew in a massive crowd. He didn't need to worry for long.

"Eh, Girl, are you gonna select your character or what?" asked the presumptuous challenger.

"I- What?" asked Pyrrha.

"Come on, I know you ain't a regular, but you look pretty good. Let's go for a set."

Pyrrha looked left and right, before nodding. She selected her character and readied herself for the next challenger.

The first of many. The rules of arcades stated that winner stays on. Pyrrha kept her seat.

Pyrrha turned out to be a champion in more arenas than a cage. The surrounding crowd had begun to sing her praises, calling her the 'Queen of Games' as she smashed through any and all competition. Like when Jaune challenged her, she started off slow, taking a few hits here and there, but after the first round she would pick up. By the third round it really couldn't be called a challenge anymore. People groaned, others complained, everyone smiled. Pyrrha's was the most brilliant. Amused at having challengers, giddy at victory, and happy for being recognized not by name, but by 'girl', 'lady', or simply 'eh'. The expression was small, but Jaune could feel the energy.

It was quickly wiped clean when a voice called out her name. He didn't see who spoke, Pyrrha blocked his sight. He saw her smile petrify itself.

"Oh, there you are. Why haven't you answered your scroll?" asked a familiar voice, identified from the swagger more than its tone.

Pyrrha turned to watch the man approach. "Hello, Mercury, as you can see I was just passing the time."

Mercury, overexaggerating the movement, craned his neck to look at Jaune. "With the enemy?"

"With a friend."

"Who's probably taking notes on what hand you favor, or going to bag up some of your hair to sell. Comeon, you are the Champion," said Mercury, emphasizing the last word more for the crowd than anyone in the conversation. His voice drew the ambient chatter to a still. "We've been over this, you can't trust people outside of the team. Especially if you're going to miss out on training."

Jaune stepped forward, uncaring at the eyes he drew as most were locked on the trio anyway. "We're just catching up from the last time."

"Hey, I remember you, the same kid who claimed to get lost backstage," said Mercury.

"I was lost."

"It just so happened you ended up on the path to our champion's waiting room? Or that you happened to be on a rival team. Would you have said you were lost when you knocked on the Champ's door too, if Cinder hadn't stopped you?"

"I- What are you getting at?"

Mercury rolled his eyes, turning away from him to place a hand on Pyrrha's shoulder. "Comeon Champ, let's go. Cinder's waiting, you know how important it is to win."

"For you or for me?" whispered Pyrrha, her eyes locked on the floor.

"For the team of course," said Mercury, helping Pyrrha stand and leading the way as the entirety of the room watched the pair leave. The silver haired man turned back to Jaune. "Stay in your own lane, kid."

With that the duo from Mistral left. One lauding the accolades and benefits of being a winner. The other looking small, wilted, and anything but a champion.

Once the door closed, the whispering started.

People turned and gossiped at what just occurred, eyes stared at the door of where the duo departed, and the first challenger from earlier looked to be summing up the courage to talk to Jaune. He wanted nothing of it. How a friendly competition had quickly shifted to resemble highschool, left him feeling sick. Jaune stood, grabbed his things, and left. The flash from scrolls trailed after his escape.

The border between gyms, between teams, brought itself to the forefront. He had just spent an afternoon with the supposed enemy and he couldn't deny that he had fun. However, in the end, Pyrrha left with her team and left him alone, without so much as a second glance. The conflicting emotions fought against one another inside his skull.

Jaune liked Pyrrha. He wanted her to win, if only so she could fulfill her goal for her team.

Jaune liked Yang. They had grown closer since the incident and he had come to know the effort and dedication she put in to achieve a completely selfless goal. He wanted her to win.

Both statements could not happen without one cannibalizing the other.

Author's note

(Whispers in a quiet voice so as to not disturb, nor jinx anything) We're so close to a milestone ya'll, let's keep pushing!

With book two coming to an end soon I wonder if we can make it.

Please Follow, Review, and Favorite, if you liked my work. It makes me smile and it'll get us to the huge milestone!

Thank you all for the support and until next time,

Mkspotlights