CHAPTER 3

...

The doorbell rings like it belongs to a haunted mansion, and Yang blinks. "Oh, wow, that's…" She clears her throat. "Interesting. Super interesting. The noise, I mean."

Blake chuckles, pressing her palm against her lips to stifle the sound. "Sun said the same thing. More or less."

Yang stiffens. Sensing her unease, Blake's grin disappears. She opens her mouth to say something, but the door opens, and—

"Blake!" A huge man is pulling Blake into a hug, lifting her off the air and earning a shrieky "oomph!" from Blake. Yang expects Blake to pull away, or to turn into a statue, but she hugs back with equal joy. "Oh, I missed you!"

Blake's smile is so wide it warms Yang's heart. "Missed you too, Dad."

Blake's dad sets her down and places his big hands on her tiny shoulders. "Love the new haircut," he says, his voice booming and rumbling even when he's speaking at a normal volume. He turns his eyes on hers. "Who's this now?"

Blake glances at Yang. "Dad, this is Yang, my—"

"Ah! The fiery one!" To Yang's surprise, Blake's dad pulls her into an equally bone-crushing hug.

Yang gives Blake a wide-eyed look that screams, "Help."

Blake smirks and shrugs, as if to say, "Hey, you'll just have to endure it."

As soon as her feet are back on the ground again, he cocks his head and asks, "Is it true you once destroyed a Paladin with one single punch?"

"Dad!"

Yang's tongue is a knot, and the chuckle that comes out of her mouth is breathy and awkward. "Err, well, see, I didn't—it was more of a team effort, really, we—"

Blake's dad booms into laughter again, patting her shoulder. "Come! Come inside! I can't wait to hear more!"

He strolls inside with his bulky frame, leaving Yang and Blake to stare at one another. Yang clears her throat. "You, uh, told him about the Paladin thing?"

Blake's ears press against her skull. "Yeah, it… Yeah."

"Cool," Yang says casually, while her mind not-so-casually panics over what it might mean.

...

Inside of the house is even grander than Yang thought. And homely, too. It reminds her of her house in Patch, with its wooden floor and gardens.

Blake's dad looks disappointed when Blake mentions they've eaten on the way here, and when Blake asks him where her mom is, he replies, "Oh, doing volunteer work."

"Volunteer work?" Blake asks.

"Yes, she's been wanting to get out of the house ever since you…" He looks away, clears his throat, then turns to Yang, putting his hands on his hips. "Anyways, what sort of mischief did my daughter get into?"

Yang laughs, eager to diffuse the situation, and tells him about the time they launched a whole-ass city into the sky. Omitting some details, of course. Like the political war, and how terrifying it was. They go and sit on the couch of the living room, and when Yang finishes, Blake's dad laughs and side-hugs Blake. "That's my daughter alright."

Blake tenses, glances at Yang. Yang nods at her. Blake gives her a half smile, then melts into the embrace.

Then, his face brightens, and he grins at Yang. "Oh! Would you like me to tell you about that time Blake rallied her entire classmates against her kindergarten teacher over a chocolate bar?"

Blake's dad looks like a hunter who's about to shoot his biggest deer yet.

Blake looks like that deer.

The answer comes easy for her: "Do I ever?"

...

After one hour of cooing over Blake's childhood stories, Blake declares that they're tired (true), and they need to settle in their rooms (also true.) Yang pouts at Blake's dad—Ghira, he insists she calls him—and he winks at her, mouthing, "We'll talk later."

Walking down the halls, Yang asks Blake, "So, where's the guest room?"

Blake stiffens, her ear twitching. "Well, I was hoping we'd sleep together." Yang's cheeks warm. "Not like that! I just meant sleeping in one room!"

"Yeah," Yang says, her voice too high. "Yeah, I getcha." Into Blake's room they go. Once inside, Yang chuckles. "Of course you'd have a bookshelf."

She walks over to it, checking it out. She doesn't know a lot about literature—the closest thing she's done to any literature thing is littering with her full stature (get it?)—but Blake loves books, so she has to know a thing or two about it. The top shelves are full of serious looking books—essay books, dark stories. The lower the shelf, the more lighthearted the stories are. Yang pulls out the one from the bottom row—it's a light picture book, its pages yellowed with torn edges. Yang opens the first page and there, in a purple crayon with a surprisingly neat handwriting, are the words, "This book belongs to Blake!"

Hearing Blake's childhood stories is surreal enough. Seeing it, on the other hand? Well, that's a whole other level. A fond smile crosses Yang's lips.

"So, are you done exposing my childhood now?" Blake asks from behind her.

"Never," Yang replies, closing the book and putting it back where it belongs. She takes another glance at the shelf, before turning around to face Blake, her hands on her hips. "It's an endless job, one that burdens me with a heavy weight."

"Uh-uh."

"For years and years, I've searched for clues—nay, answers. Answers to what sort of a child Little Blake was."

"Sure."

"And now—" Yang presses a hand to her chest "—now I am starting to understand, and truly, it is a great big relief."

At that, Blake's eyebrow rises. "A relief?"

"Yeah, I might've been running out of words," Yang says, breaking character. She smiles. "It's still awesome, though. Your dad's, like, the best thing ever."

"Ugh," Blake says, ears pointing low, "I mean, I love him and all, Gods know I do, but I just wish he weren't so… him sometimes."

Yang begs to differ. She wishes sometimes her own dad was more like him. Taiyang Xiao-Long did try his hardest, but he was too young, too sad, and too alone. In those early days before he pulled himself back together, she raised Ruby as much as he did. Sometimes, Uncle Qrow would come along and co-parent, but he's, well, Uncle Qrow.

It's not like she could blame him, too, not with everything. And he wasn't all bad—there were still birthdays, vacations, the occasional pranks. But the more she grew up, the more he became her friend. And that's great and all.

But still.

"I mean, I don't know," Yang says, hoping her smile is genuine, "he seems pretty cool to me."

Blake sighs, settling on her bed—big enough for three people. Certainly big enough for two. "Yeah, I shouldn't be too hard on him. It's just…" She rubs her face. "I'm twenty-one. He needs to stop treating me like a child." She pauses, bringing her hands to the edge of the mattress. "I guess I can't blame him, considering what I did."

"Blake, c'mon." Yang settles down next to her, the mattress creaking under her weight. She places a hand on Blake's shoulder. "Your dad loves you. And I know I haven't met your mom, but I'm pretty sure she does too. They're your parents—of course they love you." Yang squeezes. "That's why you need to be open with them. Not hide your feelings from them, or whatever."

Under her touch, Blake stiffens, but relaxes as she sighs. "I guess I should." She places her own hand on top of Yang's, her ears drooping. "I'm glad you're here with me," Blake murmurs.

"Yeah," Yang says, her voice soft, "me too."

Blake's thumb runs soft circles over Yang's knuckles, and Yang's grip loosens. Soon, they're facing each other, closer than they were before. Something passes between them; something intense and familiar and warm, like a campfire in the night.

Then, Blake's kissing her, and Yang's frozen, her urges inside of her screaming at her to kiss back.

But she doesn't kiss back. She pulls away.

Blake's face scrunches in disappointment before horror plasters over it. "Yang, I'm so, so sorry, I just—I thought—" She winces, pressing her hand on her forehead as she turns away. "I was just being stupid, it…"

You're not, Yang wants to tell her. I want this too.

Instead, in a hurry, Yang tells her she needs fresh air, and would like to explore more of Kuroyuri. She leaves before Blake can answer.

...

A/N

Hope you've all been enjoying this, because it's only got one chapter left.