Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, but it's finals month and everyone decided it was a good idea to frontload a metric ton of projects and essays just before the finals on their students.
Well, hopefully this chapter will put everyone in a good mood...
I hope.
Chapter 24: Crouching Eagle, Hidden Aquila
"An alliance of civilizations can be our most powerful weapon in the fight against terror."—Frederica Mogherini
From a dinner with the RWBY gang to a meeting with Space Marines. It sounded like something out of a horrid multiverse fanfic he used to read when he was younger—like, "13-years-old" younger.
The tick-tock of a wall clock echoed like a great bell through the room, as if ticking away the moments before he would meet an untimely demise. He sat at the tail of a large, expandable wooden table in the kitchen of what could only be described as a hotel suite. The kitchen was open to the rest of the room, but the lower ceiling made it feel like it was a separate room, a cave inside of another, basically. The lights in the room were minimal at the moment; a lamp from somewhere in the living room-type area illuminated the room there, though instead he was confined beneath a yellow-glow ceiling fan of dark wood and brass fixtures. The room itself was rather darkly painted—neutral greens and browns drolly walked circles around the room, though at the moment Jacob couldn't say whether the wall or the floor was more fascinating to look at.
Jacob looked to his left. His eyes met the scrutinizing gaze of Gabriel Angelos, Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens. He was not exactly leering, so much as he was watching Jacob like a hawk. He stood above him, his stature now well and truly intimidating. In front of where the Blood Raven stood was Logan Grinmar, the Great Wolf of the Space Wolves, watching him with a furrowed brow and eyes full of worry—whether that was for Jacob himself or for the rest of their crowd remained to be seen. Ciaphas Cain sat next to him, not looking up from a long-since empty martini glass only now sporting an olive and the stick it was attached to, and next to him Darnath Lysander, the Imperial Fist with what was the strongest infantry-wielded Thunder Hammer in the 40k tabletop game.
Jacob looked to his right. Vulkan sat closest to him, a calming smile on his face as he sat with his elbows on the table and his hands locked together in a tent. Two blonde women stared back at him with scrutinizing stares of their own, though the younger one—probably his own age if he had to take a wild guess—had a twinge of fear to her gaze if the slight rise to her brow was any indication of that. With hair and facial features like that it was not difficult to recognize the older woman as Luce Spinoza, the Interrogator from The Carrion Throne. And judging by what he remembered from last night, the younger girl was her and Lysander's daughter. 'Rey' she called herself?
And sitting at the head of the table, Titus and Mira sat with folded hands and nervous looks of their own.
Today's been nothing but mindfuck after mindfuck, Jacob thought to himself.
They had sat there in silence for a few minutes, the tension in the air making him feel like he's being tried for treason. His heart was pounding, only alleviated by the attempt at a smile Mira had given him earlier and Vulkan's calming demeanour. Even then, it wasn't enough to counteract being stared down upon by an assemblage of the Imperium's mightiest heroes—minus the stupidly overpowered ones like Kaldor Draigo and Cato Sicarius.
Jacob cleared his throat and half of them braced up like they expected him to turn into a Daemon Prince. If I don't diffuse the tension soon, I'm gonna look worse than a cultist in front of an Interrogator-Chaplain.
"I, uh, I've heard of Imperial hospitality, but this is ridiculous."
Silence.
One strong huff of air out through someone's nose, like the start of a laugh. Vulkan's smile grew a little larger. Mira and Titus smile a little, as did the shadow of one begin to manifest on Logan's chiseled visage. Cain audibly chortled.
Gabriel, Darnath, Spinoza and their daughter remained stoic as ever, though the girl did have the faintest twinge of a smile for a flickering second.
Not a bad start, I guess.
"A clever start," the Inquisitor hummed through her teeth. Vulkan tapped her with his elbow.
"Perhaps we should be a little less hostile to the lad," Logan said as he seemed to lean back into his chair slightly.
"There is no reason to ease up on a potential Traitor," Gabriel said, arms still crossed. Jacob looked at him with a confused stare: what happened to the calm and jovial guy he met on the Vale docks all those weeks ago, who was calm and mentor-like?
"Gabriel," Mira said in a tone both scolding and pleading, "let him speak."
"Well, what about," Jacob replied, "what do you want—or, Hell, need me to talk about?"
Silence. Most of them looked around at one another with looks of confused realization or surprise.
"How about your name," said the girl.
Jacob blinked and shrugged. "Jacob Muller."
"Your real name."
He blinked again. She stared back at him.
Now Jacob was getting annoyed. "What do you want me to say? 'I am Alpharius'? You asked for my name and you got it."
"Rey" drew back and looked around before zeroing in on him again. "Alright then," she began, "where are you from?"
Jacob shifted in concern. How would they react to the fact that he was from the Throneworld? He looked to Mira and Titus, who only nodded in approval, almost a parental movement that reminded him of his parents.
Again, the sting of an unreachable home. He sighed. "Terra. 3rd Millennium Terra, actually, back when we still called... it... Earth." He felt awkward about the phrasing of that one, thinking to himself that it came across a little asinine.
They all—sans Mira, Vulkan, Cain and Titus—stared at him like he was absolutely mad.
Jacob's eyes darted around the room. How could he prove it to be the truth, especially to all the skeptical ones in their ranks?
"You don't believe me," he assumed.
Ciaphas Cain cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Logan Grimnar tugged at the collar of his t-shirt—not a sentence Jacob ever imagined having to cobble together, even in his head—as Vulkan continued to stare. Gabriel sighed heavily.
It was Vulkan who eventually replied. "It's certainly out there," he began slowly, testing what to say, "but not out of the realm of possibilities."
"Bullshit," Lysander replied. "I still don't believe it."
Jacob nodded as he rolled Vulkan's response in his mind. "Well then, Captain Lysander," Jacob began, a small perverse side of him wanting to push his luck and his authority, "Explain... these."
As Darnath seemed to bristle a bit at the mention of his old title, Jacob began rifling into his backpack, now resting beside his feet. He brought a quadruplet of books up high and slapped them onto the table with a loud thunk.
The hardback covers of the Space Marine, Blood Angel, Grey Knight and Space Wolf codices stared back at the assemblage.
He reached down again, having brought more: he didn't know if he would need all of them, but he was glad he had thought a step ahead for a change as he slammed down the Skitarii, Deathwatch and Imperial Agents codices too, as well as the old Tyranid, Eldar, and Ork codices as well. Lastly, he reached deep into the bag, but hesitated at the last second; he had already pulled enough out, did he really need to overkill it?
...It's Warhammer 40k, he concluded after a few seconds, overkill is regular to them.
With a final grunt, he pulled out the last three codices in his bag that he had been able to carry along tonight and plopped them onto the table.
Codex Supplement: Traitor Legions, 6th Edition's Codex: Chaos Space Marines and 7th Edition's Codex: Chaos Daemons – Daemonic Incursion Edition.
Silence again consumed the room. Several of the more pious members—particularly Spinoza, Gabriel and even Titus—bristled at the later, non-Imperial codices. Everyone looked up at him with shocked, outraged or fascinated gazes, even Mira getting in with a face of surprise at the latter menagerie.
For a second, Jacob felt like he was sitting at the top of the heap, before that realization that he now walked a razor's edge-thick line set into the back of his mind. He was now teetering between getting his ass kicked 30 ways to Kingdom Come and being blasted with a thousand questions, and it could tilt any which way.
"...Well," Cain said as he swallowed hard, "that's certainly something."
Jacob nodded and shrugged. "Technically," he began, "I've actually only owned most of the Imperial codices back home, sans the toaster fu—I mean Skitarii—one. There's one for every major faction the Imperium of Man fights as well, and I only brought these since they were all I could fit, even taking out my textbooks... as well as it would get a point across. Also, I noticed that my Guard codex went MIA, so I presumed you had taken it to report back to the gang, as it were."
While he had been talking, everyone besides the Ultramars had taken a codex and began plowing through it, only the Chaos Daemons one being left; then again, considering the Imperium, that wasn't too surprising. Mira smiled weakly and rubbed the back of her neck as Titus twiddled his thumbs and grimaced. "Sorry," they replied lowly in unison. Jacob simply shrugged as if to say, "you were curious, nothing wrong with that."
Vulkan and 'Rey' were hunched over the Ork codex, reading it as if it would unlock untold secrets about the Greenskins; then again, it was kind of a non-biased dossier on the Orks, so it it'd give a little more info than most Imperial Scholars could get the gist of. Lysander was perusing the vanilla Marines codex, Logan had taken to his own codex, Cain was reading the Eldar codex—though his brow spoke volumes of what he was thinking about the "fucking elves"—and Spinoza was reading through the Imperial Agents book. Gabriel stood over Lysander's shoulder, reading from the codex as well, the skeptical scowl slowly wearing away to some degree of shock.
Ten minutes passed, then another ten, all the while the group muttering amongst themselves and occasional glance at him. Jacob didn't know whether he was setting himself up for an early grave or propagating an alliance.
It was Vulkan who finally said something, pushing the Ork codex away from he and "Rey". "Okay then," he began, "I would say we all believe him now, right?"
There was a chorus of agreements—some vehement, others with besmirchment and a tinge of grumbling to them—echoed around the table.
Cain cleared his throat. "Considering the 'Copyright Games Workshop 2012' in the front of this book and presumably the others, I can agree with that."
Rey was leaning forwards towards him, bright eyes sparkling with questions. "You really are from Holy Terra! More than that, from the beginning of the Age of Terra, no less!"
Cain leaned forwards too, tenting his fingers over one another. "Never thought I would get to meet someone born on the Throneworld," he said as he began wringing his hands.
"Was the Emperor in any position of power at the time? Was he even around at that time? Was it green and lush like the scriptures said, or had it already become a nuclear wasteland?"
Logan stuck out a muscular arm to hold her back. "Easy, Delia," he said, "I'm not sure he can answer every question we have, considering that he's not from our past."
"Oh," was all she said before beginning to back off.
"Well," Jacob began, hoping to throw the girl a metaphorical bone, "in your timeline, Big E was hiding away from the limelight circa 2017, working on getting his psychic powers up to par; then again, he had already been working on it for 10,000 years before that, so why it took him that long is up for debate. And your third question... yes and no, Earth was—is, I mean, or whatever—a temperate planet, lots of different biomes for life; grasslands, deserts, jungles, ice caps, scrublands—I myself hail from a kinda scrubland-river valley area, but that's not important—arboreal forests, alpines and savannahs just to name the common ones."
Everyone stared at him in fascination; no doubt the history of Holy Terra had been diluted and written in far different tones than what he knew. Getting a history lesson from someone who to their world was sitting pretty as the second-oldest human chronologically outside of The Big Guy Himself would have been a treat that Imperial historians and Mechanicus flunkeys would've slaughtered each other over.
But Jacob wasn't really here just to give history lessons. He was here to get their help.
"This is fine and lovely," began Titus, clearing his throat, "but there's something more important than a history lesson that he wants to talk with us about."
Can't believe I'm thinking this, Jacob thought with a physical sigh as he realized what he needed to do, but thank God for AND God damn the Ultramarines.
He slid his phone out from his pocket, still registering 30% of its battery. Again, he traced the path through his files to Volume 3, this time stopping at Chapter 9: P.v.P.
"What are you showing us," asked Logan, an edge of concern in his voice.
Jacob tried to decide what to say. Perhaps being blunt was the best path:
"If everything goes according to our Enemies' plan and my plan goes awry... an hour's worth of footage from the future."
He hit play.
Let the emotional roller coaster begin anew.
He sat there and let them watch in rapt awe, an entire crew of Space Marines and Guardsmen and an Inquisitor huddled closely around a phone on the far end of the table from him. A few minutes in and Darnath looked up from his spot with an incredulous look, but Jacob simply waved and pointed to the phone to insist he keep watching.
17 minutes passed and amidst the sounds of gasps and huffs of anger and such Jacob could make out the sounds of Cinder's villainous soliloquy. He rolled his eyes as she prattled on about the untrustworthiness of the Headmasters and the Kingdoms, all the while a tiny part of his brain conjured up new and fantastical ways to make her suffer for her crimes... that she hadn't committed yet.
In hindsight, Jacob thought, under normal circumstances, that's a bit touched in the head.
The chapter ended and the Imperials all looked up at him as he resignedly moved to the next chapter.
Before he could hit play, though, he was stopped by a vice grip so tight it actually let out a small cry of pain. His eye followed the trail from the massive hand that now gripped his arm.
The line his eye traced ended at the scowling face of Gabriel Angelos.
"What. Was. That."
"L-Like I said, Lord Angelos, sir," Jacob said perhaps a bit shakily as the grip threatened him with agony only the Chaos-worshipping lot knew, "an hour's worth what is—or more likely was—the future. You saw it with your own eyes."
He said nothing, but the critical stare told volumes of what he was thinking about Jacob at the moment. "Why are you showing us this?"
Jacob sighed. "Because... because I need your help. All of your help. But you need to see all of it to understand why."
"I think we've seen enough," Darnath replied, getting up. Jacob looked over at the precise moment Titus' hand shot out to Darnath's wrist.
"Not quite," he said morosely. "Jacob, I would ask if we can skip ahead to... to Episode 12. Make this quicker."
A hum of apprehension left Jacob's throat. "Faster it may be, but it might be better if everyone is fully up to speed on what is supposed to happen, so that way we can... y'know, figure out what needs to be done to act against it."
Titus nodded. "Very well," he replied, "I'll start up the next one."
So, it continued again, the sound of sirens and screaming and warfare resonating from the tiny speakers as the Grimm invaded in Battle of Beacon. Titus and Mira hugged closer to one another when a somber piano rang out over Pyrrha staring over Penny's quartered body. Several of them tensed up once the Nevermore broke through the barrier.
For another 17 minutes they were glued to the screen. Admittedly, Jacob didn't know whether to be nervous or bored at this point. Every so often, Jacob found himself glancing down at his watch to see the time: 6:40 by now, and Jacob had a 20-minute brisk walk back to the Academy for sparring night. Considering that Chaos Marines were now a threat as well, he honestly needed every ounce of training he could muster if he was going to get them all out of there alive.
Finally, Battle of Beacon ended and they collectively turned their attention on Jacob, a tired, worried—maybe a bit angry—collective stare leveled at him.
Jacob took a deep breath as the wracked nerves slowly began to manifest again. "Those were focused on the full story," he began, "The, uh, overall scale to... well, Team RWBY and Team JNPR." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"We noticed," Cain said dryly. "So, what Mira and Titus were saying is true then. Remnant is a fictitious world where you come from."
"...Yep," Jacob said slowly.
"And your only lens of reference is all focused around Ms. Rose and her team, as well as Pyrrha's team."
"Pretty much."
Cain scratched his mutton chops in thought "Something tells me there's more to it. Something that you told Mira and Titus that you haven't told us."
Jacob processed the observation before turning to Titus and Mira. "You didn't tell them?"
Titus inhaled heavily. "I thought it may perhaps better that you give them the... primary focus of yours."
"But she's your goddaughter," Jacob said in an emphasizing tone.
"Pyrrha? What about her?"
Both turned their gazes at Delia, only to be met with a look of surprise mixed with personal concern and threatened defensiveness. Bright, blue eyes stared back at him with that gut-twinging look that dimly mirrored his own fears.
"What's going to happen to Pyrrha?"
Jacob blinked in surprise. "You know her?"
Delia nodded. "She and I were friends through our parents. We lost touch years ago but we still call one another from time to time. But that's beside the point," she replied, getting into his personal bubble. The bright sapphires in her eyes sparkled with worry. "You said something was going to happen to Pyrrha. What?"
Jacob found himself hesitating. Just telling them all of this put his plan horribly on the line, but this could push them over the edge into spreading word out of his control.
He locked eyes with Titus and Mira. Both nodded ever so slightly, pleading looks in both sets of eyes.
He sighed. Here we go.
"I... showed Captain Titus and Ms. Nero—sorry, Mrs. Ultramar—the last episode of Volume 3 just before we parted ways for the day." He got up from his seat and began to pace. "Earlier during the Vytal Festival Tournament, Pyrrha is approached by Professor Ozpin... and she is offered the status as—wait a second." He stopped and turned to Vulkan. "Is everyone here aware of the Fall Maiden?"
There was a collective nod from everybody.
"Almost all of us have been inducted into Ozpin's Inquisition," Vulkan replied, nodding his head to indicate Delia, "but everyone here is aware of the Maidens and their powers."
Jacob nodded in reply. "Right, well, in that case... Ozpin offers Pyrrha the title of Fall Maiden, despite Amber still being alive." The Imperials glanced around to one another as if to confirm what they had heard. "Right now, she's interred in some kind of... advanced, I guess stasis field would be the closest equivalent, right? Anyway, she is propositioned by Oz, Ironwood, Glynda and Qrow to be... subject to a theoretical they are desperate to attempt." He paused for a second to take a deep breath. "They want—I should say will want—to transfer Amber's Aura, really in a way her soul, and... and put it in Pyrrha so that she can keep the other half of the power safe."
At "put it in Pyrrha," half of the group stood up in outrage.
"They what!?" Gabriel roared.
"They can't do that!" Logan replied, flinging his hands into the air in exasperation.
The room became subject to a small shouting fest, most roaring in rejection, though Jacob knew they weren't really shouting at him, per say. Vulkan remained the only one to not shout, though the fire in his eyes deceived the stolid face he wore.
Mira stood up, the Cadian's fury rushing through her almost visibly. "And what happens then!? What if Pyrrha is... is overwritten by Amber like some daemonic possession? What if they meld together and become someone entirely new? What then!?"
"They don't get that opportunity... at least not entirely."
Jacob's reply quieted them all down.
"During... during the invasion of Vale, the lady who was on the comm, Cinder Fall... she was Amber's attacker. She stole the Fall Maiden's powers—or, at least part of them—and put Amber in that coma she's in right now."
Jacob noticed Titus' eyes seem to light up with recognition at Cinder's name being mentioned. He must have seen her in one of the classes she was "attending".
"She breaks in and, despite a rushed attempt at the procedure... she shoots and kills Amber and manages to steal the rest of the Maiden's powers."
There was a pregnant pause accented with more looks of outrage for a moment before he continued. "Pyrrha and her teammate, Jaune, escape the tower only for Cinder to rocket up to Ozpin's office. Around the same time, some kind of... Grimm dragon makes itself known and lands up on the tower with Cinder. Pyrrha—whether out of guilt, or some sense of duty or some suicidal impulse no one could begin to fathom—goes up there to fight Cinder."
His voice didn't crack, but he did notice his hands balling up in fury.
"She doesn't come back down. She fights like hell, but... an arrow in her heel, and an arrow in her heart... and Cinder doesn't even leave a body, but... decides to fucking incinerate her."
He hand been turned away from them as he began the last bit. He didn't cry this time, but he did feel a boiling anger rising, as if her were some deranged servant of The Blood God.
He turned around and was met by a horrified Delia directly in front of him. Behind her, it was as if a storm of The Emperor's Wrath had become carnal. Titus and Mira were hugging close together again, though their eyes spoke angry thoughts and promises of protection. Vulkan's façade had failed him, a thoughtful glower as he stared down at the table in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. If emotions were Warp storms, Darnath and Luce would combine to be a miniature Maelstrom, both of them kneading their hands as their furrowed brows and slowly-creeping snarls grew greater in intensity. Logan was holding his hand to his mouth, eyes darting as he clearly thought over things. Gabriel had just begun to pace behind them all, a composure to his thousand-yard gaze into the ground beneath them.
"You're lying," Delia said weakly.
Jacob offered her only a weak nod and a melancholy, "I wish I was."
She turned to look at Titus and Mira. "Is this true?"
They looked up at her and only nodded.
Something shifted in her stance. She looked back to him, panic beginning to seep into her eyes. "We need to tell Ozpin this, now!" She began to move towards the door.
Jacob moved without thinking and grabbed her by the arm. "Wait," he said, a bit too forcefully for his taste. "If we do, then there's greater risks that I myself am not prepared to take."
She looked back at him. "What do you mean, 'wait'!?" Outrage oozed from every syllable. "Pyrrha is in danger, my cousin's life is on the line, and you tell me to wait!?"
"If we tell him and divert from canon this early, there's no telling what will happen! What happens if Cinder and Salem's forces just outright invade with no infiltration, what if they invade with 100,000 Grimm instead?" Jacob let go of her arm, realizing that his unintentinally-tightening grip was probably hurting. "My plan is to save Pyrrha, to save that girl, Penny, too, but if I diverge from canon too far, the rest of their teams could get hurt! What happens if I divert and the Invasion goes down anyway, but instead Pyrrha is the only one to live of her whole team!? What if Team RWBY is slaughtered by Alpha Grimm? There's some million-odd variables and I'm trying to work with what I have, and if I throw that away, then every other ounce of blood that was supposed to live through that night will be on my hands!"
He found himself panting after that outburst, everyone staring at him intensely. You could have heard a pin drop by the front door to the room, it was so quiet.
"That's why I haven't told Ozpin," he finally said. "Because I'm trying to keep the cards in my favor in this life-and-death poker game right now, and I'm sitting on the equivalent of a royal flush. I can't just throw it away and pray that the next hand I get will be better! More than that... after the Invasion, Salem's forces have to regroup. Cinder is heavily wounded thanks to Ruby's Silver Eyes and, generally speaking, the hunt for Salem more or less begins... starting with going to Mistral for answers."
The Imperials' interest was piqued at the mention of Ruby's Silver Eyes. "Ruby uses her Silver Eyes," Cain said. "But how? I doubt she's had the training."
"Trauma can activate them prematurely," Vulkan replied, "from what I remember Summer telling me years ago; Losing two of your friends in one day, that would definitely be enough." He turned to Jacob. "You said that someone heads off to Mistral. Who?"
"Uh, Ruby and the rest of Pyrrha's team," Jacob replied. "They set off for Mistral at the start of winter for some odd reason. They only arrive in the closing weeks of summer, though."
Gabriel looked up. "I take it the rest of Ms. Rose's team does not go with her."
"They head separate ways to recover. I didn't get a chance to see Volume 5, but I imagine that the whole team meets back up by the time the Volume ends."
Silence consumed the room again.
"This is a lot to take in," Cain muttered under his breath.
Gabriel stopped pacing moved his hands up to the top of his head as if he had just finished a marathon. He huffed and said, "Too Emperor-damned much. I don't think I'll sleep tonight."
Vulkan took a massive breath before he spoke, getting everyone's attention. "I think that, for now, it would be wise to end this discussion here. Like Ciaphas said, this is a lot to process, and it may do us good to take this in overnight. Jacob," he began, "will it bother you to give us the two days until the weekend, so we all can talk about this?"
Jacob sighed. "Of course," he said with a nod, "if this were any other situation, I would question so many things right now... namely my own sanity. Besides, I've been skipping out on so many training sessions with Pyrrha and Jaune lately that I'm stagnating. If you'd like, I can leave you guys the Codices, just for your own research if you'd like; it's not like I have my armies or an enemy to play with anyway."
"If you would, please," Vulkan answered.
"...Alright. I'll go ahead and... take my leave. But, please, if not for my sake, then for everyone else's, keep this under wraps. Once we can all meet up again, then hopefully we can come up with a plan."
Everyone seemed to deflate with tire. He had just dropped a monolith-sized bombshell on them, and he in turn had been hit with his own emotional bludgeon of sorts. But letting them contemplate this overnight or even over the next few days could prove beneficial... in theory, that was.
He sighed and picked up his pack before turning to each and addressing them.
"Captains, Chapter Masters, Madame Inquisitor, Commissar... I hope you have a good night, all things considered. Ave Imperator."
"Ave Imperator," they replied back in a broken chorus of hesitance and weariness. Jacob walked towards the front door, unsure of whether to keep eye contact or just go for the door and bolt like hell. But as he walked, he found his gaze meeting the concerned godparents of Pyrrha Nikos, their combined gaze of urgency and tense fear leaving him at a loss.
He turned the knob to the door and before he even had begun rationalizing his plan, he was out the door and on his way down the hotel hallway towards the elevator.
I need to get my mind off this, he deduced, sighing as the tension left his body.
He glanced down at his watch as he briskly walked down the hallway. 7:00 sharp, an hour to get back to Beacon and then to sparring practice with Pyrrha and Jaune.
"Yeah," he huffed. "That'll do, pig. That'll do."
CLANG!
High, left, low, right, shield bash, high again, low again... he's getting better at the combo.
She swung at his center, he leaned backwards, dodging her blade. Like a loaded spring, he launched an upward cleave towards her, missing her by centimeters as she flipped backwards to avoid it.
His left foot is too far forward, a Beowolf will take advantage of that.
SCHWING!
She spun as she came out of her flip, extending her sword out into its spear form. Using that momentum from her spin, she swung wide and low, catching him across the leg and sending him to the ground. He landed head first, an audible cry of pain and surprise reaching her ears.
Pyrrha smiled as she resumed a normal stance, spear form of Milo in hand as she held it like a walking stick.
Jaune looked up, clutching his head. "It's fine," he groaned, "I'm alright."
Pyrrha laughed and helped him to his feet, grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. "In all fairness," she commented, " you should keep your feet closer to your center in the future. Your fight style is all about withstanding blows and then getting in close, so when I back off to attack you with Milo's spear form..."
"I get in close and force you to go to your sword mode, right."
Pyrrha nodded and smiled in approval. At least he was aware of what he needed to correct. She couldn't pretend like the last few days—heck, technically it had been on and off throughout the last few weeks—to train directly with Jaune hadn't been well and productive. On the one hand, Jaune's stances and fighting style was getting more disciplined and controlled, rather than uncoordinated like he was the first three months of their time together. His one successful spar with Cardin had been a lucky break, but he needed to get better, sad to say.
Sad, only because it felt like she was rewriting the blonde, clumsy partner that the gods were gracious enough to give her.
I don't know why I act like this around him, she thought to herself. I haven't felt like this since that boy Azura back in primary school, but that was only a little crush. This feels... different.
Pyrrha didn't want to jump to a conclusion, but if what her mother said years ago was true... how could she deny what she felt?
She shook her head as she cleared the thoughts from her head before Jaune could notice any faces she was making. The heat in her face remained, albeit diminished in strength.
"Let's start over," he said, "I had a good feeling on that go around."
She nodded and replied, "Okay." The two took spots on the roof across from one another, Pyrrha taking the outer right corner while Jaune stood opposite of her, his back to the rest of the building. Both drew swords and bowed, a smile unconsciously manifesting between them.
She breathed deeply and without a second's hesitation her Aura sprang back to life, ready for a fight. She could feel its power deep in her chest: a small thrum of energy, of vitality and life, of happiness and strength rising. What had once upon a time taken her ages to get down she did practically instinctively now, without even needing to think about it really.
Across the way, Jaune stood with his eyes closed as he also took a deep breath. His Aura was larger and took more time to awaken, and his lack of practice awakening it had meant that a few months ago it took him nearly 3 whole minutes for him to fully power up. Now, he and Jacob were nearly neck-and-neck for who was fastest, both just under a minute each. With Jaune, it was rather amazing he was powering up so quickly; he really was a natural.
And yet Jacob still seemed to struggle a bit with his; had he been as fast at learning as Jaune, he could power up his Aura at nearly her her speed by now.
Pyrrha felt her smile fade just a little bit at that thought before she buried it away. With a nod, she let Jaune take the initiative on this go around.
And take it he did.
With an audible grunt, he launched forwards, sword raised high and shield up. Pyrrha met his charge with her own, though she kept Milo tucked back behind her and Akouo hiding her torso and neck as she charged low.
He began to swing down in a cleaving strike as they reached six feet from one another. Pyrrha's mind was already a step ahead, snaking to her left and cutting at his torso. The shield part of Crocea Mors made impact with Milo's edge, the ringing of metal on metal becoming music to her ears. Jaune spun as she had taught him, another cleaving strike coming horizontally at her. Their blades met with another ring as they continued their back-and-forth, Jaune holding Crocea Mors in both hands and Pyrrha answering the gesture with her own change to two-handed combat. It continued for another minute like this before Jaune moved to shove her with his shield. Akouo met his blow, the two now engaging in an intentional shoving match.
Good, she thought to herself, he's not leaning too far into his shield. She reached around and made a jab for Jaune's shoulder, only for him to do the one thing she told him not to do in a situation like this: He jumped back and exposed his chestpiece.
Chest is open, in comes the point of the spear. As she thought this, she pressed the attack, slicing at his chest. Jaune let out an audible cry of surprise and he bounced back, nearly tumbling over himself. She backed off and let him get back to better ground; this was a practice session, after all, not a real-deal battle.
"Remember, Jaune," she said, "chest guarded."
He nodded and returned to his stance, the two beginning to circle one another as the stars dimly glimmered through the light of the city night life. Pyrrha couldn't help the comparison to a dance bouncing around in the back of her head.
Speaking of which, another thought crossed Pyrrha's mind. The Vytal Dance is coming up soon. Maybe I should look into asking—
Her Aura prickled as Jaune's blade jabbed right for her bosom, Crocea's point nearly tapping her physically. She backpedaled away as Jaune suddenly seemed to press his advantage more than usual. His sword beat against Akouo without relent, albeit his attacks seemed to lack any coordination, being more wild strikes peppered with hopeful attempts at breaking her defense. Admittedly, Pyrrha was being forced back, much to her surprise; she never got this distracted in a fight, even a practice one.
Gods, why am I like this around him? It's just a simple crush!
In seconds the tables had been turned, with her now backed to the wall. Her Semblance was begging to be used, the iron in Crocea Mors within arm's reach to manipulate to her advantage.
And while she never advocated such extremes as rending or breaking a weapon, slight adjustments were not outside of her personal code of conduct. After all, she didn't actually hurt anyone by doing it, just deflected attacks.
Pyrrha managed to maneuver her shield arm to lock Crocea Mors in a melee lock of sorts. As she and Jaune dueled, she reached out ever so slightly, just like she always did. A tiny part of the back of her mind felt the metal in the area around her, quite literally.
The iron in the drainage pipes above her. The refined steel in Jaune's shield and also his sword, the same in his family's armor. The rivets and beams of the dormitory structure. Even that tiniest trace of iron in a person's blood, too little to actually manipulate but enough to faintly reverb into her Aura.
She suppressed her usual shudder at that last bit and concentrated on the sword; it was the only metal she had actually physically touched, thus was it the only one she could manipulate. She felt its weight, its movement, its composition. Just as always, she felt the archaic but masterful craftsmanship in the weapon, the folded steel's heft and its simple aerodynamics.
All of this in under a second.
She reached out her index and middle fingers from the hand holding her shield, gaining the full connection.
She flicked her finger aside just slightly. His swing moved off course ever slightly, not enough for the average person to notice, but just enough to change the sword's angle. It skidded along Akouo's face, the blade unable to get a grip on the rare alloy of bronzium and mithril.
Pyrrha couldn't help but notice the dampness growing on her brow. She couldn't help the smile that grew across her face.
Jaune was finally getting her to break a sweat.
And the pride from the revelation on grew as Jaune stumbled only a little before improvising with a wide upwards cut, using his stumble to give him the momentum for a tremendous swing. Pyrrha couldn't block that swing—not with his whole body behind that almost-out-of-control attack—and while she would normally put her Aura to use again here, she didn't want to overuse it for training sessions. She was forced to jump back, albeit crying in surprise in tandem with Jaune as gravity finally assumed control and dropped him to the floor.
Both were panting as they sat in silence for a few seconds, absorbing what they had just done. It had been clumsy on Jaune's part to go for the aggressive so early, but even she couldn't deny that she hadn't expected the last-ditch improvisation, even considering that this was Jaune she was talking about.
She remained standing, walking up to him sitting down next to him as he sat on his hands and knees. "That was a good improvisation on your part," she said. "But, that being said, you shouldn't have pressed the attack so soon into the fight."
Jaune looked at her hand and shakily replied, "R-right, that was... was totally an improv attack. I meant to do that."
Pyrrha found the underlying attempt at confidence beneath his shaky answer almost enough to giggle. As much as it was almost on repeat at times, moments like this still felt better than any of the training she ever went through back home.
Maybe it was because, for once, it wasn't Uncle Titus or her parents that were her sparring partner? Maybe it was just Jaune? Then again, she had the same feeling with Jacob being around for these sessions.
Speaking of which, she thought to herself, where did he go this evening?
"Uh, I think he said he wanted to talk with your uncle about something," Jaune said out of nowhere.
"Huh?"
Jaune looked at her and said, "your question, I was just saying that I think he went looking for your uncle to talk about something after dinner."
Pyrrha blinked and contemplated what had just happened, before coming to a very embarrassing conclusion: Oh my gods, have I been thinking out loud?
"R-right," she replied, feeling a fluster of embarrassment rise in her cheeks this time around. It was like a carousel of emotions with Jaune: Impress, amusement, affection, fluster and then back to business.
Next time I call mother, I might want to ask her about why that is... although, I think I have a good idea why that is.
There was a click and a creaking sound from the direction of the door to the inside. For a brief second, Pyrrha expected Cardin or someone else to pop through and ruin their secluded sparring... as well as her good mood.
A round face with a goatee-mustache peaked out from behind the door. "Uhm, hey guys. Did I... did I miss anything?"
Pyrrha let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "You forgot the tap," she said, half-irritated and half-relieved it was only Jacob.
He hummed in awkward embarrassment if the sheepish grin on his face was any indication of what he felt. "Right," he said, bringing a clenched knuckle up to the door. Tap, tap, tap-tap-tap.
She responded with a bemused roll of her eyes and two raps in rapid succession on her shield.
"Speaking of 'shave an a haircut', I may need to make a run by Mr. Mahog later this week; I can feel my hair tickling the back of my neck." Jacob walked over to them, a noticeable drag to his gait as he joined them. He had Cadia and Titan in hand, though Pyrrha noticed his shoulders sagging and that Cadia hung down incredibly close to the ground, rather than hefted onto his shoulder as usual.
Pyrrha's brow furrowed. He had the entire day to himself, spending time with that Polendina girl that he and Ruby had grown attached to, and somehow he seemed more tired than usual. "Are you alright," she asked, "you look like my father does after a long mission."
Jacob seemed to hesitate before he answered. "I had a long evening talking with your, uh, uncle and his friends about some things I have concerns about."
She and Jaune shared a look: Pyrrha was quick to figure that it must have been that Eliphas guy from their battle last night.
Jaune was quick to change the subject, though. "Well, at least you didn't get here too late," he offered weakly.
Pyrrha checked her Scroll as Jaune said that: 8:03.
"Yeah, I just noticed that," Jacob replied with a tired sigh, "I had a feeling that Pyrrha wanted to give you an early "one-on-one" before I got here."
The wink he offered her spoke volumes of what was going through his head. Pyrrha felt a second round of shocked and embarrassed blushing rise to her cheeks, this time of a much greater magnitude than before. She instinctively moved to cover her face, forcing her hand to cover only her mouth through sheer force of will.
She glanced for a second at Jaune as he replied, "Yeah, we were covering footwork and shifting stances."
"Ah," Jacob replied, "good stuff. You know what you're doing, I presume, considering you guys had almost a whole hour without me. That part maybe why I'm sucking in so many sparring matches."
Pyrrha felt a bit peeved at that remark; always pessimistic about his own combat skill, never once reveling in any solid progress he did make. "That's not true," she defensively replied, "you've made good progress and you've nearly come out on top a couple times."
Jacob sighed again. "I appreciate the sentiment, Pyrrha, but you and I both know I've got a ways to go before I really can compete with most of us. Those fights were so close only because I got lucky or I was starting to outsmart my opponent, only for them to catch on too early for me to coup-de-grace them."
While he was right, Pyrrha hated his tone about it. Jacob seemed at times disappointed with his progress, almost as if he thought he wasn't getting it fast enough; sure, at 20 years old he was leagues behind Huntsmen of equal age to him, but he was only just starting out as a Huntsman, just like Jaune. He didn't need to be hard on himself like this so frequently.
She came up to him and said with a sigh, "You really need to not be so hard on yourself. You'll get the hang of it in your own time, but no one learns to become a Huntsman in a night."
"Case in point, both of us," Jaune said over her shoulder.
Jacob held out a hand towards Jaune as he replied, "Right, right, all things considered you're not wrong. But still..." He seemed to pause, once again considering what he was going to say if the darting of his eyes were any indication. "Considering that as the de facto 9th member of our merry misfits I am, Jaune notwithstanding, the weak link, and you guys suffer for it. Sure, I'm the Lone Wolf, but a Lone Wolf should be able to hold his own and not be a hindrance to anyone else, according to Oz. At this point in time, I'm not exactly closing in on that level of, well, proficiency anytime soon."
The tone he spoke with unnerved Pyrrha to some extent, as if he was talking about something he was expecting to happen. Clipping Milo to her belt, she reached out a hand to his shoulder and gently cradled it, the urge to hug him in a sisterly or maternal way screaming at her to do so.
"You're thinking about that battle last night," she finally said after thinking it over.
Jaune chimed in. "You were thinking about how easily that Eliphas guy beat you, weren't you?"
Jacob didn't reply for a few seconds before sighing and answering, "Yes... among other things."
Pyrrha felt no reason to push on the "among other things" part to that comment, but she could help with the former part. "He was—is—a well-trained fighter, you've only been fighting for, what now, four months? Jacob, you can't expect to become a master fighter in such a short time; it's going to be a long while before you can really keep up with any of us, honestly, and we've had the advantage of eight or more years of training!"
"I know, Pyrrha," he said with an audible tone of annoyance as he angrily sheathed Cadia into his belt, "I am vehemently aware of that fact! Admittedly, part of this is stemming from my perfectionist side resurfacing, but at the same time I have an obligation to at least not be a burden on the first people to extend a hand and help me in this completely foreign world I find myself in, as well as I have some obligation to actually be able to do the job I am now tasked with!"
She couldn't help but wince at his outburst. For a second, not a word left anyone's mouth.
A look of horrified realization flashed across Jacob's face, only to change into an embarrassed and guilty stare at the ground beneath him, complete with a regretting grimace. "I, uh, I'm sorry for that, Pyrrha. I just... the pressure's mounting and I'm, well, not doing as well as I would prefer to be—"
She stopped him right there as she reached out and gingerly held his shoulder. "I know that it can seem like you are doing so much to progress, only to find that you progressed so little," Pyrrha said quietly. "Believe me when I say that, in all honesty, I've felt exactly like that."
Jacob looked up. "You have," he asked incredulously. "I know most climb their way up to the top, but you've always seemed a natural at this."
Her mind unconsciously ticked backwards to a half-decade ago at those words; an old and cherished memory, tinged with nostalgic happiness and regret alike...
"...Good job, Pyrrha! You're a natural at this!"
"Oh, stop it, Celly."
"No, I mean it, you've made a lot of progress."
"But I'm nowhere near as strong as Dad—"
"Ah-buh-buh-buh, no comparing yourself to your father, remember? You'll get it at your own pace."
"...You really think I've been making progress?"
"Better than me or my sisters could have done at your age..."
Pyrrha blinked twice as the memory faded back into her mind. She felt the faint stinging in her right eye. "You'd be surprised," she said softly.
They stood in silence for another second or so, Jacob seemingly rolling her words around in his mind. He sighed again. "I'm learning new things every day," he said with an eyeroll.
She returned the gesture in kind, only accompanied with a smile of amusement. "I'll have to tell you about the person that trained me one of these days. But for now," she said as she backed off and unsheathed Milo from its back-scabbard, "Let's make you our equal."
Jacob cocked an eyebrow. "You know I won't stand a chance of beating you."
Jaune shrugged from off to the side. "You won't know until you've tried to."
Jacob glanced at the ground and seemed to digest her partner's words. Without a word, he backed away towards the opposite corner from her, looked her square in the eye and assumed his usual sparring stance, legs apart, shoulders up and squared, bearing his full silhouette to her. He brought Cadia from her precarious spot on his belt, snapping his wrist and changing the standard blade form into its chainsword mode. In seconds the protective casing that extended from the gun form's base frame re-enveloped the top side of the blade, leaving only the bottom half to bear its teeth as usual. The motor hummed angrily, the purr of a warrior's weapon in the hands of a man who was trying to prove a point; to who though, was a question for another day.
She assumed her stance, sword brought high behind herself, shield raised to her chest, right foot back, back forwards to brace for the lunging attack.
She, the Invincible Girl, versus her friend, looking to all the world as though he thought himself the Immovable Object.
But as she stared into his eyes and his back into hers, Pyrrha couldn't deny that the little hint of a storm still lingered in his eyes; that troubling thought, whatever it was, still lingered in the back of his head.
She would go easy tonight, if not for the sake of getting him to cheer up.
"Alright," Pyrrha began, "Two nights ago we focused on strong attacks, right?"
Jacob nodded and hummed in agreement.
"I think it's time to apply that with our lessons in footwork."
Without further warning, she began to run at him, her stance low to the ground to force his hand. Sure, she wouldn't pummel him senseless, but she wouldn't make his victory a cakewalk.
Jacob drew back, his posture signaling a massive cleaving strike. Cadia revved in his hands, the purr drowning in a roar of anger. He didn't move from his spot, but he did shift to brace her impact with his open shoulder. She saw the faintly-visible sheen of energy that flowed over him as his Aura fully awakened.
Just before she could reach him, though, he bolted forward a few steps, just enough that they collided closer than she had expected. It threw her off, the lack of time to brace and the sudden countering momentum from his shoulder-charge halting her own charge in its steps and sending her reeling a bit.
Good, she thought in the back of her mind as she twirled and righted herself, he remembered to meet a charge with a counter-charge.
Cadia roared again as he moved in closer, taking a step, two steps, three steps as he closed in and cut across the width of her torso. She ducked under the blade with a backflip before transforming Milo into its spear form and swinging in return. Lacking the time to parry, Jacob ducked down and to his left, the two now looking like a pair of twisting marble statues of Mistrali warriors.
In the span of a second, Jacob was swinging upwards in a shallow cross-cut slash to her chest, Cadia's teeth ricocheting off of Akouo. She at the same time jabbed again, Jacob's torso twisting to avoid the spear. Jacob stepped backwards and began with much larger swings in the pattern she had taught him: Uppercut, reverse, shoulder cross-cut, left, right, up again, and with each one she met chainsword with Milo's sword form. Back and forth they exchanged blows for several seconds, warming themselves up for more advanced moves in a bit. Their swords beat at one another, twisting their attack angles to one-up the other; Pyrrha found herself spinning a few times, using the momentum in an attempt to overpower Jacob's counterattacks with her own.
It felt like minutes had passed when they finally broke apart, Pyrrha backflipping away and Jacob jumping backwards in a mild stumble. Both were already beginning to pant, Pyrrha's tire from training with Jaune earlier compounding on top of the exertion she was getting from her new training partner. Jacob was panting a lot harder than she was, the heftier blade that he wielded making each swing for him a lot harder to both control and instigate to begin with.
"You're holding back," he said breathily.
She felt an urge to wince. "Hardly," she lied with a laugh.
"A liar is good at lie-detecting, Pyrrha," he responded. "You can't pull the wool over my eyes."
She kept that first bit in her mind for later, but she couldn't help but sigh. She pushed forwards, Milo changing back into its spear form as she lunged at him, striking at his feet. He leapt back and she struck again, Akouo blocking his attempts at jabbing her. She was forcing him back, putting her footwork and positioning to use. The only thing he could do now was roll to the side or advance back at her.
He decided to go with the latter choice. He lunged forwards, Cadia revving again as he caught Milo in its teeth, Pyrrha visibly spotting the split-second of gunning the trigger. She had only milliseconds to reach out with her Semblance, magnetizing Milo to her hand to keep it from being wrenched out of her hand by Cadia's spinning teeth. Jacob swung hard as Cadia spun, Pyrrha following the momentum into a dangerous pirouette.
Jacob had no time as Milo slammed into his side with a sharp-sounding impact. He stumbled sideways, spinning and lashing out but finding no purchase. He hit the ground and rolled into a kneel
Pyrrha winced at her move; she was trying to go easy on him and she was already falling back into a normal pace.
Jacob looked up at her, and the massive grin that she saw found itself accompanied by an elated twinkle in his eyes.
"There's what I'm looking for," he said, "if you don't push, I don't get better!"
Pyrrha felt her stomach drop out from beneath her.
Just like she said... before she—
Pyrrha was torn from her thoughts as Jacob rose back to his feet and moved in to attack her. She saw Cadia's teeth retract back into the frame, swiveling and aligning into a singular blade. Now he was looking to really challenge himself.
Her heart sank as she realized she would have to oblige. She charged in too, looking to jab at him and capitalize on his lack of shield.
The two clashed again in the center and began to dance around one another's blades—though Jacob's movements could hardly be considered "dancing." She poked and slashed at him, wearing away at his Aura with weak blows that still compounded with time. He fell back on his usuals, making big, cleaving swings only to back off a step and block what few blows he could with Cadia. The two danced in a circle, Jacob refusing to give ground and insisting on taking ground.
A dance macabre had they been enemies, but within their circle, it ws different.
Pyrrha's alarmed fears were suddenly silenced and snuffed by a rising giddiness in her heart. Across the way, the dour look to Jacob's face had been smothered by that gleam of excitement, when not wincing in dulled pain at her attacks. Soon, it was a full-on smile from him, infectious and bringing her to a smile as well. Fighting like this, putting her all into it, not having to force herself to play it easy for him, she felt more relaxed, more in-the-moment than she was with Jaune. Sure, with Jaune she was fairly certain she was smitten, if what her mother said was true, but with Jacob... it was different.
But what it was confused her even more so. It was a love of being with him, but it wasn't like her growing affection for Jaune; it was more like she could feel more comfortable around him.
Pyrrha felt herself give into the dance-fight, the two now sweating like sinners in a church as they continued to fight. How long had it been, five minutes? Six? Seven by now? She couldn't say, but she was enjoying every second of it. Faster and faster they went, Jacob now taking far more blows, Pyrrha now getting glanced by a swing every so often. It was a rush,
BEEP! BEEP!
Pyrrha's mind screeched back to sensibility. That was the Aura red alert: Someone's Aura was nearly depleted.
Across the way, Jacob faltered in the middle of an attack, Pyrrha tripping him with Milo's spear shaft. He hit the ground with a cry of surprise and a loud thud. A blue shimmer crackled across his body upon impact, like electricity on a wire.
They sat in silence, both panting to variant degrees. Pyrrha felt a thin layer of sweat everywhere across her and her breathing was strong but still well under control, thanks to her Aura keeping her stamina high. Jacob, on the other hand, looked horrible, his cheeks a deep flushed red, his breath haggard and sweat pouring from his brow.
"Jeez, Jacob," she heard Jaune say from behind her. Pyrrha turned to see Jaune staring at them with wide eyes of both impress and awe. "You sure that you're not catching up with Pyrrha?"
She looked back at Jacob, who was fishing out his Scroll. He glanced at it for a second, Pyrrha seeing the distinct red bar of a depleted Aura staring back at him before he breathily said, "You tell me, Jaune." He flipped it around to show them. Pyrrha squinted to see it: 7% of his Aura remained. "I hope that it was good for you."
Pyrrha nodded, cnciously ignoring the double entendre he laced into that sentence. "To be fair," she said as she continued to even out her breathing, "You took damage last night and didn't take a lot of time to recover." She pulled out her own Scroll and looked down.
She still smiled at the results, despite how one-sided they had been.
"Well, you didn't do too horribly at all," she said, walking up to him and offering her Scroll. On it, her Aura had depleted to 81%. The time read 8:21
Jacob stared at it for what felt like ages. Pyrrha could see in his eyes that same spark of elation, though something was holding it back, something keeping him from fully embracing his progress. "Even then," he finally said, "in a fight that—"
Pyrrha kneeled down and held a finger to his mouth. "You didn't win," she said, "but you did better than you've done before."
Jacob seemed to digest that idea for a few seconds. "I guess," he said hesitantly, "a win against myself is still a win. Yeah, yeah, I guess it is a win at the end of the day."
Pyrrha felt a smile grow on her face as she sat down beside Jacob, both still sweaty and breathing somewhat heavily. "That's what Celly always told me," she sighed, "you don't have to beat everyone else; you just have to be the you that came before."
Jaune came up and sat beside them, crossing his legs as he sat beside Pyrrha. "'Celly?' Who's that?"
Pyrrha sighed, a somber and nostalgic noise. She still remembered that brunette bob, the gold and red armor, the happy smile, her stormy, brown eyes, so full of life and a wisdom beyond her years. "An old friend," was all she said as she leaned into Jaune. "Again, I'll tell you about her another time. For now, for now I think we've made good progress for the night."
She felt herself relax, her breath finally returning to normal. Without warning to Jaune, she leaned into him, feeling the cold metal of his chestpiece on her back.
She glanced over to Jacob, whom had finally stopped wheezing. He turned his head to glance over in her direction and winked slightly, the shadow of a grin on his cheeks.
Pyrrha felt her face flush yet again as she returned the smile-echo. Even if there was something going on outside, something that threatened her team and her sister-team, it wouldn't hurt them to take it slow and steady.
I wonder how mom and dad would feel about them all.
"So, uh," Jacob said after another minute, "I didn't ask you guys during dinner, but what did I miss in Port's lecture today?"
The night outside her room's window danced in the light of the Moon, casting shadows of light across the floor of the dormitory... if that made any sense to a normal person, she would have been proud to have said something so sappily-poetic as that. No light from within the room reached back outside, the overhead fan lamp having gone dim hours ago. The room was quiet, save for a tiny snore from across the room and the tiny hum from the fan bringing pulling the hot air up to the ceiling.
God damnit, why the hell is my brain waxing poetic?
With a sigh, she righted herself in her bed, her blonde hair already a mess from what had only been a few hours of sleep thus far. She reached up as she automatically stretched, a great yawn coming from her mouth; to all the world she sometimes wondered if people mistook her for a lion Faunus rather than your everyday blonde bombshell.
Yang felt a few bones pop and crack in response to her involuntary yawn-stretch. Her eyelids felt heavy, but even when she closed them, she found that she just couldn't drift off into slumber. Had she been alone she might have been able to tire herself out with a quick rub-out—how long has it been since I last rubbed one out?—but that was impossible with 3 roommates, and worse still that one of said roommates was her baby sister.
She lied back down and forced her eyes closed. Alright, let's try counting sheep, she thought to herself. One sheep, two sheep, three, four, five, six, seven... Yang kept counting, hoping that the imaginary livestock would lull her to sleep.
She lost count at 43 and still was nowhere near to being asleep.
"Damnit," she groaned beneath her breath. Yang rolled onto her side, wondering if the moonlight was bugging her; never did before, but there was always a first time for everything. She covered her head with her pillow, darkness consuming her vision while her eyes remained open.
She sat there for what felt like ten minutes. Still, no change. Yang held the pillow to her mouth and bit down hard, suppressing an aggravated groan that would have woken everyone else up.
Why was she feeling drowsy and yet couldn't fall asleep?
Click!
Her inner monologue clamped its mouth shut. A tiny sound reached her ears, no louder than a falling pin: the distinct sound of her room's doorknob twisting open.
She peaked out from beneath the pillow. The dim light of the hallway outside reached her eyes, ad with it a silhouette.
A silhouette with a pair of ears poking out from a head of dark hair.
Before she could remove the pillow from atop her head and say something, the figure had slipped through the door with feline grace and silently shut the door behind her. Across the way, Ruby continued to sleep soundly, her tiny snores having now finally silenced themselves for the night. Weiss dreamed on as always, sleeping like the dead; A Beowolf could invade the room and roar like Hell and she would still be asleep, Yang reckoned.
Why Blake was sneaking out was a conundrum to her, and a worrying one at that. Yang cautiously removed her blankets, slipped her orange top and shorts back over her lingerie—she was a sucker for a snooze in the cold in nothing but her lingerie—and began to tip-toe to the door. She opened the door quietly, taking what felt like a whole minute just to turn the knob, before stepping out into the hallway quickly without a sound. She looked down the hallway in both directions, only just seeing Blake round the corner for the elevators. Yang began after her, a brisk pace to her gait as she followed her Faunus friend.
Yang rounded the corner to see the door to the elevator close shut. She growled in exasperation.
"This is not helping my sleep, Kitty-Cat," she muttered as she made for the stairs across the hall, swinging wide the door and practically hopping down the height of the stairwell. Even without her Aura Yang was durable for a girl her age, years of taking punches and kicks aplenty in the sparring ring and the schoolyards playing to her physical advantage. The six-pack lady-abs she sported she swore to God could crack open a coconut if someone beat it against her, and her natural strength and durability still fed her Semblance, even if her Active Aura was still asleep.
She hit the floor of the first floor with ease, her Aura waking up seconds before impact. It hurt a bit to take the impact, but no more than Torchwick's punch from last night, and that still gave her twinges in her back throughout the day. There was no big boom, no splintering of concrete beneath her like usual; just the sound of flesh meeting ground with a dull but still noisy thud.
She came up to the door and peaked out, her violet-lilac eyes just able to see outside. Sure enough, the elevator opened to reveal Blake inside, wearing her black, silky yukata as usual, though her bow was nowhere in sight.
Yang felt her stomach hop in her torso as it came back to her from her half-groggy state. "Why the hell doesn't she have her damn bow on!?" She was glad that she only hissed, though she did see Blake's closer ear twitch as she passed by the door.
Yang opened the door behind her, doing her damnedest to sneak up and find out why Blake was up so late. She reached the corner that led down to the main lobby of the dorms and kneeled before she heard Blake sigh.
"Whoever you are," she said lowly, "I heard your landing from inside the elevator. If you're here on behalf of Adam, tell him he's not to ever approach me again."
Yang cocked an eyebrow. "Adam? Who the heck is Adam?"
Blake rounded on the spot, a mortified and embarassed look on her face. "Yang? What are you doing here?!"
Yang got back to both feet and began walking towards her Faunus partner. "Funny," she said, "I was about to ask you the same question. I swear to God, Blake, if you're gonna go running out into the city to hunt the White Fang again, I'm not gonna chase after you this time."
Blake's ears flattened a bit, a tiny frown appearing for a split second. "That's not what I was doing," she replied. "Yang, for the gods' sakes, I'm in my nightgown, not my combat gear."
"Then what's with all the sneaking around?"
"I didn't want to wake everybody up with my brainstorming."
"Your 'brainstorming'? Brainstorming about what?"
Blake seemed to hesitate. "It's about... well..."
"Blake," Yang said as she guided Blake to the sofas in the lobby, "come on, you're my partner. Tell me what's on your mind."
They both sat down, Blake sitting cross-legged as she seemed to ponder something; whether it was the subject or how she was gonna say anything never crossed Yang's mind.
"It's... it's about Jacob," she finally said in a low tone, as if there was someone else in the room.
Yang cocked an eyebrow. "Jacob? What about him?"
Blake hesitated again, glancing around. "Don't you feel it was just a little too coincidental in regards to how we met him?"
Yang's eyebrow remained up. "Uh, not really in all honesty. He was in a rough spot, we bumped into him in the forest during Initiation, that's that."
Blake sighed. "Well, there's more to it," she said as she looked down into her lap. "I was thinking about it throughout the day—actually, I'd thought about it on numerous occasions before he helped me and Sun—and something... something doesn't seem right."
Yang felt both concern and a little bit of outrage. "Alright," she said, humoring Blake's concerns, "What's so suspicious of him, and why are you only now bringing it to a head?"
Blake took a deep breath. "A 20-year old man says that he wakes up in the middle of the Emerald Forest with no idea of how he got there and happens upon us, particularly he bumps into Pyrrha, who he immediately recognizes. Then, while armed and carrying a fully-loaded backpack of assorted stuff, including a couple books that I saw in there, as well as some proto-laptop called a "Blu-Ray", he tags along with us, nearly dies from a concussion since he had no Huntsman training and somehow Professor Ozpin just allows him in without need for an entrance exam?"
Yang heard everything Blake said, but Yang's temper was running short tonight. "What are you getting at, Blake?"
"I'm saying that, for as much as he's done for us and we in turn have done for him, there's some things about him that aren't adding up." She stood up and began pacing in front of the Yang, her hands tucked behind her as she paced in thought. "He said that he knew my parents, Yang, that he met them travelling through Menagerie when he was younger. But if my parents met a human family during their time in the White Fang, I would have known about it. More than that, no human travels to Menagerie, unless their traders, lost, or outright out of their minds."
Yang didn't deign a response, sitting back and crossing her arms with another cock of her brow.
Blake continued. "Then, there's the fact he got in; I'm not gonna say he shouldn't be here because I think he's a bad person. I am gonna say that he shouldn't be here because he nowhere near as good a combatant as anyone else here, even Jaune, despite the two being in practically the same situation."
"Hey," Yang protested, Jaune's a good fighter and an even better team leader." Blake rolled her eyes at that, but Yang continued onwards. "And Jacob is learning how to fight with that chainsword; so what if none of our styles fit with it that well?"
"That's exactly my point," Blake said, "the way we fight doesn't work for him, and there is no Huntsman or Huntress here that he could learn from that would be able to teach him a conducive style.
"Bullshit," Yang replied, "He's been doing great training under Pyrrha—"
"And he nearly got killed last night, twice, had it not been for someone saving him. But that's not my point; Jaune forged his transcripts to get in and yet Jacob got in without a single test, just on the Headmasters orders? Doesn't that strike you as more than just a little bit odd?"
Yang opened her mouth to make a comeback, but she found her throat was dead silent. No biting remark, no cheeky pun, nothing left her mouth in response. Yang had never thought about it before, but it did seem odd that Jacob was just let in without another word on the matter. No forgeries, no one vouching for him, he just was let in. Yang remembered the tests to get into Beacon well; long, thorough exams before a series of combat trials that lasted two whole weeks, and really only the brightest, the strongest and those like Cardin—sporting the biggest cash wads buy their way in—got in.
And Jacob didn't even do one of those.
But that thought was suddenly snuffed out by another. "Ozpin must have seen him as worthy of coming to Beacon during the Initiation. He didn't need to go through those tests because he got through Initiation... sorta."
Blake watched her long and hard, like a panther watching its prey. "Even then," she added, "he almost bled to death through his arm from an Ursa bite and got knocked out cold by a Beowolf landing on top of him."
Yang glared at that remark. Blake, again, didn't pay attention.
"And last of all," she continued, "was how he reacted around Mr. Lysander and Mr. Ultramar, as if he recognized them from somewhere; on top of that, his running off to somewhere in the city tonight before he met with Pyrrha and Jaune... I hate to say but, that... that's just beyond conspicuous."
Yang felt her temper flare higher. "Look," she said forcefully, no doubt in her mind that her irises were beginning to turn red, "Jacob had a rough start here, but more than that he's been in a rougher situation than most if not all of us. You, me, Ruby, Weiss, Pyrrha, Jaune, even Ren and Nora I think have homes to return to, families to welcome them home. Jacob doesn't have that, and if he's to be believed, he won't have anything like that ever again, at least until he starts his own family. Until then, he has no one but us, Blake!"
The air was even warmer, sweat trickling down her back and across her chest too. Her Semblance's heat generation made every second like being inside a sauna, even for her at times it got uncomfortable.
She took a deep breath and felt the fire in her belly grow colder and smaller. Her blood pressure dropped back to normal and the mild jump in air temperature around her cooling down.
"We, as his current friends, are the closest thing he has to family right now," Yang said lowly, "and even if we've only known him a few months, I'm not going to turn my back on someone who needs anything remotely akin to a family." The drop in the air temperature sent a cold chill up Yang's spine; she found herself holding her arms close to her ample chest in response.
Blake closed her eyes and seemed to huff. "A valid deflection, I guess. But still," she said as she began to walk back towards the elevators, "as much as I want to trust him, to consider him a friend, things aren't all adding up. I just don't want anyone getting hurt because of a lie while all of our gazes are affixed on something on the horizon."
"I thought your big concern was the White Fang?"
Blake sighed. "And Torchwick, yes, they're our biggest priority. But, like I said, I don't want to get blindsided and see anyone get hurt." With that, she walked away, also hugging herself in the now-cooler night air.
Yang sat in thought for what felt like a half-hour before she shook her head and followed Blake.
A much as she didn't want to suspect Jacob of something... something about what Blake said was ringing too clearly in her head.
Now, she really felt tired. And very confused.
Damnit, why can't we have a single peaceful night?
Well, what a tricky pickle to be in, eh? Hopefully things can't get much worse than that... right?
Oh, right, hope's the first step on the road to disappointment. Crap.
Next Chapter, a plan is hatched, a pact is formed and a bomb goes off.
Wait, what was that last part?
Edit: You know what... I've been writing this story for a whole year. That is trippy. And I've gained 200+ watchers and followers on this project. I really don't say it enough, but thanks to everyone who has been with me on this nutty journey of ours. Here's to another year!
Reviews, follows and Favorites are always appreciated and getting feedback from everyone is always a highlight, whether for good or for bad, so feel free to do any or all or some mix of those three as usual and as always, I'll see you all in the next Chapter. Ave Imperator!