Reasonable times for the both of us, WriterGreenReads, whoot! And let's be real, who WOULDN'T do the anime school sprint if they had the opportunity? Also, I had to look up Qrow's fight with Winter in RWBY and Cloud's fight with Sephiroth in Advent Children to learn how people use unreasonably-large cleaver-like swords in anime. Let it never be said that I don't do my research.

January 3rd, 2021

Arya's POV:

Say what you will about our fighting prowess, Rex and I at least had the "transform-and-catch" part of partnership down. He writhed out of existence in a flash of bluish light, and I moved my hands out and caught him by the handle effortlessly. Sure, he was still heavy enough that I needed to hold him with both hands, which I figured counted against the perfect sync of proper meister-Weapon teams, but hey, our partnership was barely a week old. We'd get there in time.

More to the point, though, I learned a lot of things about Rex in quick succession, more scientific than the generalities he had assured me of in our little baseball-cage practice session. For one, his shape and mass meant that his center of gravity was towards the tip, rather than Rex's closest weapon cousin, the Zweihänder. This, in turn, meant that Rex was top heavy enough for me to need to change my grip for our braces and blocks –if we went into a bodylock with someone else, or anything else that involved momentum straining against his blade, I'd need to brace my arm against the middle part of the back to add leverage, or turn it so the flat faced my opponent and I could splay my hand against the opposite side to boost my pushing power.

I learned that one painfully and by experience, as we dueled with some EAT guy named Tom, who was in perfect sync with his Weapon and could thus bat us around like a ping-pong ball, despite the fact that his fencing foil partner was a fraction of Rex's size and mass. He'd swiped his foil diagonally and I'd moved to block like I'd seen in all the pictures and gifs and things of Final Fantasy, holding Rex angled with both hands around his grip, and the force and momentum of Tom's blade had whacked Rex's edge –thankfully the blunt edge, but still– right into my forehead. Typical DWMA strategy –learn through experience and fear of said experience happening to you again, whether it was painful or just embarrassing.

Tom was chill about it though, showing me how I could block something like that properly, and otherwise taking my misstep in stride, assuming it was the usual business of someone working out what they were doing rather than anything else. There was definitely something in this whole "pair NOTs with EATs and have them practice separately" after the instructor ran us NOTs through various common/basic sword forms. You couldn't expect a fencer to fight the same way as someone with a broadsword or a katana, but we all could slash and stab by virtue of having blades, and we all had balance to keep during a fight. There were some basics we could all stand to learn.

It was kind of…frustrating, though. I'd spent hours and hours and days and days in becoming something at least approaching a competent shot with my Colt, and though I hadn't put in nearly so much time learning to use the spare Little Tom pistol that Mey-rin had given me, I could assume I'd be nearly as good with it or any other type of gun. I hadn't spent that much time working on my fencing, but I had practiced extensively over several months, and it was conceivable that I might actually win a serious fight with a fencing saber. Having been suddenly degraded, as it were, to a clumsy klutz who couldn't even execute a block properly…kinda grated on me.

I had to keep that frustration down, though. Rex would think it was his fault, and even though it technically was, letting him think that was a dick move. Arguably, the fault was just as much mine as his, since I wasn't adjusting to something that he couldn't help. If I wanted this partnership to work, I had to put in the effort to make it work, not just coast along and demand that Rex do everything for me, then get bitchy when he didn't compensate for my failings.

That didn't mean the lack of fluidity and practiced movement didn't suck, though. I wanted to be good again, wanted the confidence and reassurance that came from being a competent fighter. Being taken several steps backwards was frustrating, even if it was benign. My usual modus operandi was to throw up magic walls or something similar in order to shape the landscape to give me an advantage, then fight from there, because it honestly wasn't likely that I'd be able to win a straight face-to-face fight even with magic and my usual weapons. Being unable to use my magic –due to not wanting to get axed by righteously angry meisters and Weapons– or fight with my gun –due to not wanting to upset Rex by relying on something else in a fight– pretty much cut out all of my typical moves. I was starting blank from the drawing board again, and not liking it, because I had a whole other drawing board full of perfectly good and detailed scribbles that I couldn't use because of pure stupid circumstance.

Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it.

In any case, I had to keep Rex from seeing, sensing, or knowing that in any way, because again, it wasn't his fault, but he'd obviously think it was, and that would just completely ruin our efforts to work together as a team, especially a Weapon-meister team. I'd just have to kinda…get over it. Eh, it'd improve with time as we got properly into sync and started working together with more experience.

This was fine.

***Time Skip***

Several hours of training later, I was staggering down the lengthy DWMA stairs with noodle legs as Rex plodded worriedly in my wake. After a while of training with the why and how of swinging a sword, and another hour or so of sparring with Tom and his partner, we'd switched to individual sessions with the class teacher, who had corrected my tendency to keep Rex low, unconsciously catering to his heavier blade, and had me change my makeshift stance a little to be wider and more balanced, rather that leaning towards the tight, defensible line I was used to for fencing.

All things being equal, staying in a combat stance for several hours on end left the muscles in my legs wobbly and warm, like I'd been riding a horse the whole time. One would think that merely bending your knees slightly and holding most of your weight in your hips and thighs wouldn't be hard, or put that much strain on you, but my half-uncoordinated steps and swaying gait told a different story. I hadn't felt this way since I first started horse-riding, or when I had also first started exercising with an eye towards combat readiness. Still, nothing a hot bath and more exercise couldn't fix. I'd be fine.

"Um…are you gonna be okay?" Rex asked, stepping closer nervously as I paused to take a breather with both hands on my knees, wheezing.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." I panted, waving one hand. "Just…just getting into the swing of things. Been a while since I did this sort of thing."

Rex scratched under his hat, giving me a concerned look. Apparently the interim between "fine" and "now" was a long one. Still, we were about halfway down the steps or less, and the way the stairs bent and kinked backwards towards the school meant that throwing caution to the winds and straddling the banisters to slide down them would only take me down a flight or two –not to mention the steepness of the steps and accompanying outer balustrade meant that there was every chance I'd pick up too much speed and just straight-up start freefalling, only to jerk to a stop as I hit the stone railing for the next level and it rammed my ovaries up into my eyeballs. The stairs also extended outwards from the school in some places without any kind of railing whatsoever, so that was definitely nope.

I was thinking far too much about this highly implausible idea. Not a good sign.

"Uh, anyways." I panted, then straightened with a groan and a crackle of my spine, looking down at the huge expanse of steps with trepidation. "We should…probably get going."

Rex started and turned to go down the stairs again, before glancing back at me. I realized I hadn't moved, and groaned internally once again, taking a single wobbling step forward. Even then, it was an effort, and Rex nearly had to catch me as my loosened muscles made me stumble. I was willing to bet cold hard cash that if I'd been wearing a skirt or a button-up shirt, I'd have flown right into him, possibly smashing his face into my cleavage or flashing anyone and everyone behind me an upshot of my underwear, but as it was, Rex only had to reach out and steady me.

"If you're tired from all that exercise, I can carry you down the rest of the steps." he said, and I blinked. Then blinked again.

"Dude, I'm not twelve."

"But you're also worn out from all the training we did today." Rex pointed out reasonably. "I promise I won't drop you or anything."

I considered that for a few seconds. On the one hand, it was kind of childish to piggyback down the rest of the way, not to mention injurious to my presumed dignity as one of the older NOT students, but on the other hand, I had worked really hard today and I could take a shortcut when it was offered. It wasn't like this'd be a regular thing, since I'd get less and less exhausted the more and more I practiced.

"Eh, sure." I said with a shrug, before making a grabby motion at him with both hands. "I've been carrying you all this time, it's only fair that we switch."

We took a few seconds to figure out how to arrange ourselves, especially on the uneven steps, but eventually Rex had me hoisted over his back, my arms around his neck and his hands under my knees, ready to be carried down the steps in fine style. My grip tightened nervously, as did his, when Rex first started walking, but eventually he got into his rhythm, and I hummed thoughtfully, draping myself more comfortably over his back. I could get used to this luxury.

"You know, you can rely on me." Rex said after a minute or so of carrying me down the steps.

"I know." I agreed, twisting my head to rest my chin on his shoulder, rather than the crown of his head, which was currently occupied by a hat. "Just kinda used to doing everything on my own, I guess."

Rex's shoulder squirmed under my chin. "You're…um, pushing yourself a lot." he admitted reluctantly. "I know you want to get to EAT, and so do I, but…you don't need to go so hard. We aren't on a time limit or anything."

I hummed, but didn't answer that one. Fact of the matter was, I sort of was on a time limit, in the sense that I needed to get this all done ASAP. In the ordinary run of things, I had my whole career ahead of me here, and it could take me years or more to work my way up to EAT and get my partner to Death Scythe status. That was a life goal, not something to achieve in a few weeks or months.

In the normal run of things.

Despite the abnormally-higher chance of skirt-flippage or accidental flashing, being in an anime was pretty neat. I wasn't about to lie through my teeth and say it wasn't. But on the other hand, even if my parents and I weren't close, I wanted to go home. I wanted to go back to my idea of normal, where life was mundane and the worst I had to worry about was delayed production on a show or something. I wanted to get back to the technology and culture I knew, and, it had to be said, I wanted to get back home before my parents gave me up for dead or something. On the not-illogical assumption that the time I spent here was the same as time back home, I'd have been missing for over a year at this point. And if time didn't progress? If I somehow popped back into my room mere seconds after I'd shot myself into this mess in the first place?

There were a host of problems with that, starting on my very visible scars and ending with the fact that I was now physically very much older. Okay, sure, maybe the transition from 16 to 18 (since I'd almost certainly be stuck here for another few months at least) wasn't that much, but I was pretty sure my parents would notice. They were parents. Their child's age was the sort of thing they were perceptive about.

In any case, I was on a time limit. I wanted and needed to push myself to a potentially reckless extent in order to strengthen my reserves and boost my combative power, and I didn't have time to consider this world's "normal," not as long as I kept my cover of being a very normal and unmagical denizen of it intact.

I could hardly tell Rex any of that, though, hence my noncommittal hum.

"It'll get easier with time." I said after a few seconds. "I'll build up my muscles more and get used to it, and your Weapon form will get lighter once we'll start improving our bond. This probably won't happen again after, like, this week."

Now it was Rex's turn to hum, sounding much more pleased and enthusiastic than I had.

He walked onwards in silence for another flight or so, me resting my chin contentedly on his shoulder and watching the sun –now drowsing and near-drooling as it sank lower and lower in the sky– hover over Death City's scenic skyline. We were now on level and just below some of the larger buildings, and it was that which prompted me to speak up again.

"You said you live in Death City, right?" I asked. "How come you don't bunk with your family?"

Rex shrugged, which was weird to feel in my current position.

"Mom was so excited about me coming to the DWMA that I kinda felt guilty about going back after…"

He trailed off rather quickly, but I could fill in the blanks. So, whatever had happened with his last partner had been bad enough that Rex had thought about leaving the DWMA? Considering how much he seemed to want to become an EAT and be a hero and all that, it must've been something else. On the other hand, though, he could just mean coming back to live at his house or family apartment or whatever in Death City, but being reluctant to do so after he lost his partner –or whatever it was– seemed to indicate that there was some kind of social pressure at work, or some weird way in which Rex's partner had tangled themselves up in his family dynamic.

This mystery was starting to make me grind my teeth. Every option I tried to slot in was either too severe, too mild, or just plain illogical. The teachers wouldn't be concerned about Rex if it had just been a case of two partners going their separate ways, the students wouldn't be gossipy and smug about him getting a new one if Rex's partner had somehow contrived to get KIA (despite being a NOT student), and Rex was too jumpy and eager to deny the subject's very existence for it to have been abuse. If his last partner was toxic for him in some way, Rex would scuff the floor with his shoe and admit it to me like a downcast puppy, not frantically deny that there was anything different at all about the way the other students treated us. And he couldn't have accidentally murdered his last partner, either, because the other students would be concerned too, and not just the teachers –not to mention the fact that, Weapon gene aside, Rex didn't really have the stuff for even an accidental homicide.

Still, there was the same roadblocks from before. I couldn't force Rex to tell me, because he was already on edge about it whenever the subject was even brought up, never mind discussed, and it'd be all too easy to push him too far: and I couldn't ask around, because even outside of anime tropes it was all too likely that the truth would be obfuscated in a dozen different opinions and interpretations. Essentially, I was stuck until Rex either started trusting me more or one of the teachers took me aside, since they seemed to know just as much about it as he did.

Alas.

Still, this was nice. We were obviously getting used to each other –Rex was comfy enough to offer to carry me the rest of the way down the steps, and I was comfy enough to accept. Despite the fact that he just read textbooks in class, we were spending time together there, and this after-school training was definitely going to be a huge boost in how well we worked together. Sure, I had gripes –the inefficiency of his Weapon form, the slowness of me trying to learn how to use it, whatever the fuck was going on with his prior partner– but I would've been extremely suspicious if I just found the perfect partner straight off the bat, and we immediately started working together like clockwork. Even Maka and Soul had to do a little work to become the amazing team that they were, and they still bickered a lot all the way through the series. Tsubaki held Blackstar's metaphorical toddler leash half the time, rather than being an equally-contributing partner, and Kid, Liz, and Patty all had their neurotic tendencies that sometimes combined in bad ways. Partnerships weren't perfect, not even for the best teams in the series. People were people, and they had arguments and friction even when they trusted each other implicitly. I just needed to keep that in mind and not expect the moon out of either Rex or myself.

Speaking of…

"Its like what, five in the afternoon?" I asked after a bit. Rex shuffled awkwardly, shifting one of the arms hooked under my legs to look at his watch.

"6.23, actually." he answered shortly. Huh. Well, that explained why I was so hungry.

"So like, after we grab dinner, we should work on training you for a change." I said. "I know I'm the meister and I'll be swinging you around and stuff in a fight, but we still need to get to a fight, and if I get knocked out or something, I want you to be able to defend both of us and/or run as needed."

Rex made a mournful noise.

"You've been exercising for two hours straight." he complained. "Any more and you won't have any muscles left to tear. You can't even walk down the stairs right now!"

I tugged on a lock of his hair, pulling his head to the side slightly.

"Hey, I know what I'm doing. And besides, it'll mostly be you that's running around and shit. I'll be offering friendly advice and whatnot from the sidelines."

Rex groaned, head hanging, as we came within sight of the bottom of the steps.

***Time Skip***

The morning after Rex and I had started on that makeshift training regimen, I found myself, annoyingly enough, regarding my usual routine with a bit of suspicion. There wasn't anything wrong with maintaining physical fitness! I'd been doing it for ages, and it was a full-fledged habit by now. And besides, in my jam-packed day, when else was I going to do the exercises that had saved my life several times over in the past?

Sure, I did a somewhat exhaustive compilation of exercise moves, then went to school and did a shitload of stair climbing, then an hour-long gym routine immediately afterwards with a focus on agility and cardio, but that was fine. I had the whole rest of the school day to rest and recuperate before the extra combat classes that went from 4.00 to 6.00. That was a totally normal exercise regimen for a person at the school, right? I mean, it had to be. Just look at how jacked Blackstar's arms were.

No, this was normal and fine, and even if it wasn't, I was too paranoid to just drop the extra stuff. It had been fine before, it was fine now, and on the plus side, I could continue happily guzzling the many forgotten flavors of modern fast food without any major adverse effects, since my calories were burning out almost as soon as I'd gotten them. Which was totally still fine. Yeah. Probably…

I smacked the side of my face and shook my head rapidly. I needed to stop thinking about it! Naigus was the school nurse, or would be after Medusa was booted, and she saw me every day at gym, so if there was anything to be concerned about, she'd know!

The worries that Rex had planted in my head about my potentially unhealthy work ethic aside, the rest of Tuesday spun by in an impatient leg-bouncing blur as I waited for the Weapon class, which Rex was still part of, though Sid had put him on an independent course of study. With Rex busy, I finally had time for my first important pet project: strategizing.

As of right now, I had four main concerns, and I scribbled them out in Italian in my journal/grimoire, waiting in a comfortable nook with skull-shaped furniture nearby the dancer's studio.

Problem 1: Create Death Scythe and access books.

Problem 2: Canon vs. manga?

Problem 3: Thwarting evil.

Problem 4: Interdimensional research.

I struck through the first one –that was already being taken care of, in the form of teaming up with Rex. The second was more problematic, as I'd have no indication of which direction things were going until almost too late, which moved me down to the third and most important point on my list.

Planning how to thwart Medusa, and other associated evil bastards.

That was going to be tricky. Still, I wasn't going into it blind. I knew what she wanted and what she planned, and for the next few months at least, I had a clear run of…well, arranging and executing preliminary steps. Not that I was going to –in terms of raw intelligence, Medusa had me beat in a thousand different ways, so the best method for me to go about beating her was to not craft a plan so ingenious that I created a Xanatos Gambit for myself, but come up with something that I could begin and execute on the spot, so quickly that she didn't have time to muster her intelligence and counter-plan.

A brilliant strategy, but one with a single small flaw –I had no idea what kind of plan would do that.

Well, taking it step by step, I wouldn't really need to do anything to interfere if things went the anime route. The anime was, by and large, a far more cheerful place. People didn't die or turn permanently evil there. If this turned out to be the anime, Rex and I could probably take the time to sip some pina coladas on a beach somewhere in amongst our slaying of Kishin Eggs.

(Whatever the hell a pina colada was. Some kind of cocktail? Martini? The world of alcohol was a mystery to me)

So, on the assumption that things went down the anime route, there was by and large nothing I needed to do to interfere with anything, save if I decided to be really bold and try to prevent the Kishin's rising to begin with. That being said, Medusa only resorted to Asura because Crona had failed to become the appropriately unhinged murderous deity she'd wanted him to be, so if I cockblocked her from Asura (a sentence and a mental image I never wanted to have again), she'd probably just pour on the pressure for poor Crona and that was absolutely not something I wanted to be responsible for.

Okay, so all things being anime, I was just gonna…leave it alone and not. touch. Anything.

That brought me to the manga, and it was with a grimace that I regarded my page of notes. Unlike the anime, where everything was sunny if you had the power of courage and shounen tropes on your side, the manga was more the grimdark kind of thing where everything went wrong eventually, in some small way or another, despite maintaining the slender thread of hope and human connections. Presuming things went the way of the manga –I flipped back to the notes I'd taken earlier to summarize what plot I remembered– Crona would be abducted/coerced to leave the DWMA by Medusa after Joe Buttataki arrived at the DWMA.

Hmm…

In theory, I could circumvent all the planning and plotting nonsense by befriending Crona during his time at the DWMA, then monitor Crona's cell 24/7 after Joe Buttataki showed up, and thus "conveniently" stroll by when Medusa was trying to guilt him into leaving and boot her snaky ass halfway across the city. That'd involve a certain amount of insomnia and/or magic surveillance, but I could probably swing it.

I mentally filed that under "Plan A."

Plan B, or perhaps Plan A: Part 2, was me finding a way to circumvent the fact that Crona's corruption and insanity were somewhat key to locking away the Kishin during the battle on the moon. Asura was essentially unkillable, so that was the best option that anyone could come up with, and even then, there was a heavy implication that he'd be able to wiggle free eventually anyways, even with Crona using the power of BREW to lock him away.

Wait a second.

Wait just a second.

BREW!

Sure, I wasn't entirely certain that BREW would work for me, being a non-native member of this world, but it was the most powerful Demon Tool created by Eibon. If I could figure out how to use it, and what to use it for, that'd definitely give me an edge…if I could acquire it.

More than that, though, thinking about BREW had me make another leap of logic, remembering the Book of Eibon, which together with BREW was essentially the summation of all of Eibon's wisdom. The Book of Eibon had the ability to lock things away within itself, which was how Greed!Noah started his collection and how the Black Mass isolated itself. So…in theory…if things went the manga route, I could somehow find a way to get my mitts on the Book of Eibon, then bring it back to Lord Death and politely ask to dump out all the extra creatures within, so as not to get them caught up in the ensuing maelstrom when I used it to suck in Asura like a slurpee. Lord Death could then caretake the book in much the same way he did Asura in his skin-bag for centuries prior.

Okay, so Plan A went as follows:

When Joe Buttataki comes to Death City, establish why he's there. If he's there to investigate a mole rather than create new technology, set up a watch on Crona. Make sure Medusa doesn't kidnap him, ensure that he is reassured, therapized, and positively reinforced so that he doesn't go darkside in the meantime afterwards. Wait for the mission against Arachnophobia and for Kid to get captured, then either tag along with Spartoi for the rescue mission or follow Sid, Tezca, and the others trying to ambush Greed!Noah in order to grab the Book of Eibon. Talk to Lord Death about plans for the book, and shake out all the extra creatures inside so that they don't get hurt when I use the book to capture Asura. Tag along on the moon mission, yank him into the book, everyone goes home happy.

Not bad, even if I did say so myself. It was a good plan, and more importantly, doable. This was something I could manage even at my current power level, though it'd be pretty dicey. Assuming that I was improving and growing stronger all this time, I would be much more confident about getting it done.

Of course, I'd need to make a Plan B, and possibly several more down the alphabet, but right now, this was the best I could manage. After all, I'd need to adjust for several moving parts in case me stopping Medusa from kidnapping Crona changed the timeline in such a way that the Arachnophobia mission didn't go down, or Kid didn't get captured by Noah. In that case, I'd have to make several adjustments very quickly in order to keep up the pace, not to mention the fact that a berserking Crona had been the one to finally, finally off Medusa in the manga, and she obviously needed to die if anyone ever wanted to be happy.

Still, for a first draft, this was a good plan, and I'd need to rip this page out and incinerate it later, to make sure no spiders or snakes got a peep at these pages. Actually, I'd need to do that for any material I didn't absolutely need, in order to keep anything horrific from happening if my diary/journal/grimoire fell into the wrong hands. Obviously I couldn't destroy the pages that summarized everything I knew about the characters and plot, despite how implicating that would be, but tearing them out and storing them inside the infinite capacities of my apocalypse bag would probably be safe enough. If anyone not me started rummaging around inside, they'd just find some old clothes in a normal rucksack, not the unending depths and myriad objects I could stick my arm into. My apocalypse bag was safe, at least until someone with magic started tampering with it, but even then, the magic used to create it was so different from anything in this world that it was entirely plausible that the Witches here wouldn't be able to tamper with it.

Fingers crossed.

In any case, I needed to be finished planning anyways, because here Rex came, presumably done with his class. I shut my journal and stowed it in my satchel, standing up quickly and flashing him a bright smile.

"So what project has Sid got you doing?" I asked curiously as we both moseyed on over into the studio.

"Weapon history." Rex said, stretching a little as his shoulders popped. "How separate Weapon genes emerged, tracing them back through families, stuff like that."

I blinked. "There's genes for specific Weapon forms?" I asked dumbly.

"Yup." Rex nodded. "Swords were the first Weapons ever created, and our bloodline branched out into axes and spears. Scythes and hammers descended from the axe-Weapon gene, and spears branched out into guns and crossbones. Nobody's sure about the categories of Weapon beyond that, since a bunch of similar forms seemed to have developed at the same time from all the different genes."

I could kinda see that. An axe was an instrument with a long handle and a weaponized head, which was swung to create damage, and could easily be developed into a scythe –long handle, bladed head– or a hammer –long handle, flat head– which were both swung to create damage. A spear was a weapon that you threw, hence it was a projectile weapon, hence it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine other forms of projectile weapons developing out of it.

"So like, what was the original sword form?" I asked. "Something like you, or a katana, or what?"

Rex shrugged.

"Nobody's sure on that one." he admitted. "Even with Lord Death, there are some historical things that we just can't confirm."

I supposed having a benevolent immortal did help with writing history books. Eh, whatever –that was something to think about later, when Rex and I weren't busy grinding to become a full-fighting-form team.

Rex transformed in a flash, and I caught his blade before whirling him with a flourish, grinning smugly.

We could totally do this.

11.35 AM, USA Central Time