(A/N) And so it begins!
XX
Jaune found it was immediately made evident that the international matches would be a much bigger deal than all of the Vale conference put together. The team from Signal hadn't even made its way into the building yet, but they could still be heard.
The crowd.
The cheers were hammers on his ears, nearly toppling him over. Why did he feel physically attacked? It was only noise, after all.
Maybe it was his nerves.
The boy put a hand up to his rapidly beating heart with a grimace. It wasn't this bad earlier the same morning, but all of a sudden the organ threatened to jump right out of his chest.
A deep breath.
Focus.
It wasn't like him to get rattled in front of an audience. If he could say so himself, he thrived every time he took the stage up until this point. His dealings were his own, and he wouldn't let something so trivial get in the way of his battle with Pyrrha.
And it will happen, he could feel it. Locks were only tiebreakers, but knowing who'd be competing, a third match couldn't be avoided in this scenario.
He could win.
He would win.
A hand slapped him on the back. "Chin up, big guy!" Yang encouraged him. "Let's get this party rolling with a fat double-u!"
He smiled. "Yeah."
He wasn't able to walk ahead, though. Zhang stood in front of him.
"Respected upperclassman!"
Jaune wanted to sigh. The guy would address him this way whenever he was feeling uptight about something.
"Is there something wrong?"
"I…" he trailed off. Shaking his head, he tried again with more conviction. "I'll give it my all today! Please, count on me!"
The mentioned upperclassman gave his junior a look that he hoped was reassuring. Placing both hands firmly on his shoulders, he replied, "We all know you will, though you should try to believe in yourself as much as we believe in you. You're here for a reason, Zhang."
Both Amethyst and Taka showed signs of their approval when they took hold of the boy and cheered him on in their own way. At his side, Yang just smiled warmly. She knew nothing else needed to be said.
Everyone –even Taiyang– jumped a little when Jaune slapped his cheeks with enough force to leave a bright red mark.
"Alright!"
This was no time to stress out. He had to set a good example for those that would be taking his place next year.
XX
Up in their channel-given commentator booth inside the arena proper, Dorothy and Morado took their seats. Rather than their usual attire, they wore a uniform. A baby-blue collared shirt with the lettering "World Tournament: Mistral" embroidered onto the right breast. On the left, a logo depicting the head of a brown cartoon bunny. Many would recognize it, as it was the mascot of the event sponsor: Mistral's own internationally-recognized cereal brand, Pumpkin Pete's.
Morado put on an audio headset and talked into the attached microphone for viewers everywhere to hear.
"Here we are, Dory! Day one of the Huntsman Primary Combat School World Tournament, hosted this year by the Kingdom of Mistral."
"Indeed we are, Mory," responded Dorothy with an audio set of her own, "We have round one between Mistral's Sanctum Academy and Vale's Signal Academy, which is shaping up to be a very entertaining competition."
"I agree. Mistral's the favourite to win here, obviously, but you've got to give a lot of credit to the competitors and coaching staff at Signal. They have two of Remnant's brightest-shining huntsmen-to-be in Yang Xiao Long and Jaune Arc, who've been nothing short of stellar up to this point."
"We're roughly seven minutes away from our first match of the day," observed Dorothy. "Any thoughts on what the team rotations might be?"
As scripted as the pre-event broadcast likely was, Morado took the time to think before giving his answer. "Mistral has the edge, so I'm thinking they'll just keep on doing what they have been up until now and Vale will try to adjust to their tried and true formula."
"So you think Mistral will stick with Ayana and Altan," Dorothy clarified.
"Definitely. If they have any hopes of sweeping, the need to be able to out-speed Ayana. They can't rely on Xiao Long, though, because they need her to face Altan."
"So the Altan-Xiao Long matchup is a forgone conclusion in your mind?"
Morado scoffed. "Isn't it? She's their only available member who can go toe-to-toe with her, and even then it's a tossup."
"I'm not sure if anyone else on the signal team is fast enough, Mory."
"Who knows, Dory, they might just get lucky."
XX
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the World Tournament!"
The announcements and the accompanying cheers could still be heard through the walls of the locker room. It was a good thing, in a sense, since it gave them a good idea of how much time they had left.
"Introducing Vale's representative team!"
Taiyang took the time to look at each one of his students in the eye. "That's our cue. It'll be just like the conference matches. When they call your name, head out onto the arena floor. I won't lie, it's gonna be much more intimidating than the other arenas you've been to so far, but make sure your confidence and composure shines its way through to the crowd."
He smiled. "Show that you think you're already on top. I'm proud of all of you; do your best out there."
"Amethyst Adamantine!"
The younger girl took a deep breath. She wouldn't be competing today, but that didn't mean that she could show weakness. Her eyes hardened as she stepped out of the locker room door.
"Taka Ito!"
"Alright!" she whispered with a fist-pump, her raven-coloured hair bobbing in its ponytail. She was soft-spoken as usual, but at least she was trying to psych herself up.
"Zhang Wei!"
He didn't speak, simply taking off in a stiff march. No one said anything because of the fire burning clearly –passionately– in his eyes.
"Yang Xiao Long!"
"Ha!" she laughed, slamming her fists together. She followed up by knocking them against Jaune, Mocha, and her father's shoulders as she passed them.
The blonde girl stopped just before she left their line of sight, turning towards them once more with a grin. "Sorry, Jaune! You might not be able to fight what's-her-name after all. I'm about to knock the–"
"Yang, just go," her father told her off with an amused shake of the head.
She waved her arm over her back and ran off.
"Lock, Jaune Arc!"
He closed his eyes and rested his hand on Luminosité Éternelle's pommel.
The hands of his "coaches" pushed him forward, making him stumble a little.
"Don't got all day, here, blondie," joked Mocha.
"Chin up! We can't be with you guys down there, but we'll be supporting you from the stands," added Taiyang with a toothy grin, unknowingly emulating his daughter.
Jaune smiled and slipped out of the room.
He could see the light of the arena blearing through the darkness of the dimly-lit tunnel, though not much else. A foot forward, then another. He grew more confident with every step.
The team lock almost had to shield his eyes once he made it out. The mid-day Mistralian sun was harsh, it would seem.
Somehow, the noises were even louder once he was actually outside.
He took an instant to soak in his surroundings. The Keii Colosseum in all of its glory was filled to the brim with spectators from all four Kingdoms. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were here, somewhere: the Huntsman Academy affiliates who would be treating the whole affair as an evaluation of the next year's top applicants.
He squared his shoulders. He'd be at that top of their list.
He joined his four teammates on the center stage. They stood in a line facing the tunnel on the opposite end of the arena where Sanctum Academy's finest would emerge.
"Introducing Mistral's representative team!"
While there might have been an international crowd, it was still skewed in Mistral's favour. The cheers somehow got even louder.
"Nadir Shiko!"
Stepping forth was a tall, dark-skinned young man. The sides of his head were cropped short with an undercut, while the rest of his pink hair was held in a ponytail. He had some sort of gun, but Jaune couldn't tell if it had a mechashift from where he stood.
"Scarlet David!"
The second's complexion was the complete opposite of the first, though his hair, while a darker shade of red, was styled quite similarly. It was let loose to droop over his face rather than tied back. There were either red markings under his eye or it was simply a trick of the light. Again, he was a little far.
"Sage Ayana!"
He was… very large. He seemed like the type who you didn't want hitting you, and definitely not with that huge slab of metal that could be mistaken for some sort of weapon. Seriously, was that a sword or something?
He was covered in tattoos. The ones on his neck in particular stood out a lot. Paired with his scowl, angry-looking eyes and gelled, spiky green hair, he did a good job of pulling off the tough-guy look.
Zhang had one hell of a match ahead of him.
"Arslan Altan!"
She was strong. That much could be deduced with but a glance. She strode forward with confidence that couldn't possibly be bravado.
Her wild mane of platinum-blond hair contrasted heavily with her complexion. If Jaune had to compare her to something, it would be a lion.
Next to him, Yang grinned viciously. He could already tell how much she was looking forward to this.
"And last, but not least…"
The speaker system played a loud, slow, and rhythmic drum beat. Those from Mistral –and some that weren't– were going crazy as they stomped their feet in time with the sound.
Though it could technically be seen as a form of favouritism to hype-up one contestant more than others, it was definitely understandable why they would do it, if not outright forgiven. The "invincible girl" shouldn't be held to the same standards as a normal person, after all.
"Lock!"
The stomping grew louder as a figure emerged.
To Jaune's surprise, she played into the passion of the audience. Dressed like every bit the warrior she was, Pyrrha slammed her weapon into her shield in tune with the stomps.
"Pyrrha. Nikos!
She shouted –it could not be mistaken for anything other than the cry of a champion– and the crowd shouted along with her.
This was what it meant to be adored.
This was what it meant to be put on a pedestal.
This was what it meant to have the expectations of the world placed on your shoulders.
She stood along with her teammates, directly facing him. Her staple smile was plastered to her face, though it seemed a little more challenging than what he was used to.
He matched it with a smile of his own.
"Match one of three will begin shortly! Mistral and Vale teams, please make your way to your standby boxes. Your elected participant may remain on the arena floor."
Jaune could see the Sanctum students walking away, giving Sage Ayana nothing more than a slap on the back as they passed him. Not a wordy bunch, were they?
Signal, on the other hand…
"Kick ass, and take names!" Yang shouted as she draped herself over a stammering Zhang. "No, better yet, kick his ass and take his name! I'll be calling you Ayana at the end of this whole shebang, ya get?"
He had to shake his head at his friend's nonsensical rambling. Signal was a little rowdier.
"Good luck."
"Get 'em, tiger."
"Break a leg!"
"You'll do great."
Signal's participants joined their adversaries from Sanctum off to the side. They shared a space: a large, glass-boxed area with two long benches for them to sit on. The only thing to separate them was a waist-high screen with some sort of product advertisement on it.
"Hey. Signal kids."
Nadir Shiko grinned at Vale's representatives once he got their attention.
"Yes?" answered Jaune politely.
The grin widened. "I hope you liked your visit, because you won't be here for much longer."
Yang's finger twitched. Noticing, Jaune put a hand on her knee to calm her down. She stiffened right up, for whatever reason, but at least she got the message.
"Nadir," admonished Arslan. "Be mindful of what you say. You aren't competing today, so don't go picking fights."
"Should you really be telling them that?" questioned pink-haired student uneasily.
"As if it makes a difference," she scoffed. "They won't make it past the second round anyway, let alone beat Pyrrha."
Ah. She told him to stop picking fights, then she went and picked one on her own.
"Hey, now…" mumbled Scarlet. There was no reason to be mean, was there?
Pyrrha just kept on smiling.
Yang was not smiling. "You're gonna eat those words."
Arslan didn't bother answering. She crossed her arms and focused her gaze on the combatants.
XX
Zhang stood less than three meters away from Sage. With a stiff back, he bowed.
"Let us have a good battle."
Unexpectedly, Sage returned the gesture, though he didn't say anything.
A horn sounded.
Zhang shot forward as quickly as he could in order to close the distance between himself and his opponent. His weapons –a pair of butterfly swords– were held close to his person.
CLANG
The younger boy shook off the uneasiness he felt when his first blow was easily blocked by the much larger blade. He crouched low to the ground, trying to spin around to his opponent's back.
Sage didn't let him. He merely stuck a leg out behind him, tripping up his attacker who wasn't able to react in time.
Zhang caught himself with his hands and pushed himself in the opposite direction. Once he got his footing, he realized that he was only a hair's breadth from the inbound.
How? He was faster than Ayana, he knew it. Somehow, though, Ayana was able to counter him at every opportunity.
Was he that predictable?
XX
"Things aren't going too well for you," spoke Arslan matter-of-factly. Though she didn't look at them, the Signal group knew who she was talking to.
"Hah," laughed Yang shortly. She wasn't looking Mistral's way either. It must have been some petty thought stuck in her head.
Jaune knew she was putting on a brave face. The match wasn't going Zhang's way at all.
He was as fast as always, and that fact alone kept him in the fight up until now. What could have been devastating counters to his thwarted attacks were mere nicks.
Despite that…
A large hologram projected high above the battlefield showed each fighter's respective aura levels. Whereas Sage Ayana couldn't have been down more than a tenth, Zhang was already on his last legs. There was a disparity between the size of their auras, to begin with.
It was unfortunate. Where Zhang was a little below average in that department –something he made up for in others– his adversary was not, evidently. Zhang had landed a few solid hits, and yet they were shrugged off as minor nuisances.
If that, even.
There would be no comebacks, here. There was too big a gap in their strength, skill, and experience.
But even so…
"GO, ZHANG! DON'T GIVE UP!" screamed Jaune at the top of his lungs, despite knowing there was no way he'd be heard. It scared the pants off everyone else in the box, though, since they were looking at him like startled animals– even Altan turned away from the match, wide-eyed.
Even if he couldn't be heard, it was his job to support his underclassmen.
His fellow blonde followed suit, screaming something of her own. It wasn't much longer before Amethyst and Taka joined them too.
Mistral's sidelined fighters looked like they didn't know how to react. This wasn't normal, was it?
Except for Pyrrha. Her smile hadn't budged.
XX
Taiyang's smile was a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless. His and Ruby's seats in the crowd were right above the competitor's box, so he could see the antics of his students up close.
Ruby, on the other hand, was pouting. "Awww… Come on, Zhang…"
Knowing his daughter, she was most certainly torn between cheering for her classmate and wondering how she could do better in his place. Good riddance. Maybe she'd get motivated to hurry up and finish her fourth-year project already.
Seriously, what was taking her so long? What was she putting in that thing anyway?
"Zhang's not winning," he said softly. It was hard to say –especially as a teacher– but this was the reality of combat. Zhang was a fourth-year, and Sage Ayana was a graduating sixth-year. This was probably how it was bound to go down from the beginning, though he didn't have the heart to take the boy's hopes away.
Sigh. What a weak-willed man he was.
"Yeah," Ruby lamented.
"He's giving it his all out there."
"Yeah."
"We'll make sure to cheer him up later."
"…Yeah."
XX
His mind was getting hazy.
Zhang panted, glaring ahead doggedly. He wouldn't back down. With the last of his energy, one last time…
One last time…!
"You're still standing," Sage remarked. It was the first thing he had said all day.
The younger of the two adversaries didn't know if it was a sign of annoyance or respect. He didn't have the time to figure it out.
As another first, Sage went on the offensive. His sizable weapon didn't let him run too quickly, but he was far from slow.
The sword was raised, a finishing blow was imminent. Zhang brought both of the butterfly swords up to defend himself, refusing to back off. He would lose here, but so what? He'd be losing more than just the match if he faltered now. He'd give it his all until the very–
A fist landed in his gut, toppling him over. He only noticed how close he was to the line when he heard the announcement.
"Sage Ayana wins by ring-out! The first match goes to Mistral! We will begin round two in five minutes."
XX
Round One's fighters returned to their respective benches, though only one was able to make the trip on his own. Zhang was being tailed by the event staff in charge of assuring the safety of the participants.
Scarlet passed on a quick "good job" to his teammate, but the Mistral side was otherwise quiet.
Jaune had his eyes locked on the green-haired man the whole time.
"You good?" Yang asked her younger, perhaps a little unnecessarily. It was clear that he wasn't feeling too great.
Despite this, he smiled. It couldn't hide the sadness contorting his face. "Sorry, I couldn't do it."
"Fourth-year. Tell me your name, and say it clearly."
They all looked to Mistral's side, hearing the words. It was Sage who spoke.
"Me?" Zhang asked helter-skelter. "But they announced it, and all… I'm no-one special, but–"
"Enough. Just speak; I'll remember it this time."
An overbearing silence took hold. Arslan, Nadir, and Scarlet stared at him open-mouthed.
"I… Zhang– My name is Zhang Wei!" the boy spoke, getting louder once he regained a bit of his confidence. He forced himself to his feet.
"…Stay gutsy," was all that Ayana responded with before turning away.
"Hey, hey! Hold it! What's with that half-assed closing remark? Explain yourself." complained Scarlet, though he was given no mind.
Jaune understood. At least, he felt as though he did.
"You did more than enough," he whispered. No one heard him.
"The second round's elected participants are asked to make their way onto the arena floor."
In sync, Yang and Arslan pushed off from the bench and marched out of the waiting area.
XX
Morado caught sight of a green light appearing on a nearby console. They'd be back on air in three… two…
"Dorothy and Morado, reporting from the break in action. The first matchup of the day might have been a blowout, but it was expected, wouldn't you say, Dory?"
Dorothy hummed. "Yes, but credit will be given where credit is due; that kid held out better than anyone thought he would."
"Do you have higher hopes for what's to come?"
"Absolutely. We're in for a treat here, folks, this is probably the most anticipated fight in the entire first round of the World Tournament."
Morado cocked his head, though it was an action unseen as their commentary broadcast didn't have any cameras on them. "More so than the Nikos match?"
"Yes, and let me tell you why, Mory. Who's winning the 'Nikos match'?"
"Nikos," was the answer. No additional thought was needed.
"And who's winning this match?"
Morado came to the conclusion that he couldn't say with the same amount of certainty. "You're saying they're a perfect match for each other, and that neither will have a clear advantage."
"Exactly."
"I disagree. We won't know who wins until it happens, but Xiao Long has a competitive edge. You could argue a difference in competition up until this point, but the difference between a near-perfect record and an actual perfect record can't be ignored."
Dorothy laughed. "Interesting assessment as always, Mory. As you said, we'll just have to wait and see."
XX
Facing the blonde in front of her, Arslan Altan frowned. "No one will hold it against you if you back out now. It is not wrong to come to terms with the inevitable."
Yang cracked her knuckles and tilted her head from side to side. "Put a sock in it, lady. Your ass is grass."
"…So be it."
The moment they heard the horn through the colosseum's speaker system, they met at center-stage with a brutal clash of fists. Though they were even, to say they mirrored each other would be a lie. Unrelenting, wrathful slugs were matched with graceful and calculated strikes.
Yang narrowed her eyes. Her weapon, Ember Celica, was designed specifically with hand-to-hand combat in mind. It was supposed to give her the upper hand here, and yet…
The two separated.
"How are you doing that?" the Vale native asked, frustrated. Her gauntlets were being warded off by bare fists.
To her dismay, Arslan didn't deign to answer. The woman lowered herself into a practiced stance and waited for their next engagement. A dagger slipped through the length of her sleeve.
She didn't have to wait long, being forced to jump out of the way of a pair of unknown projectiles. It was a good thing she did, since the spot she had occupied only an instant earlier was lit with the blaze of a fiery shockwave.
"Tch. Dust rounds."
Arslan was quick to accept that keeping her distance wouldn't work. She took a deep breath.
Yang closed the gap with an explosive leap that exhibited strength and athleticism that few could hope to achieve. Just before contact–
"Ha!"
Arslan exhaled, thrusting her palm out to catch a gauntlet-covered fist backed by a mighty cross.
BOOM
XX
Ruby watched the bout unfold with her mouth agape. "She just punched Ember Celica like it was nothing! Who does that? Not even Jaune does that, and Jaune is Jaune! Is it a semblance?"
Tai shook his head. "No, it's a little more complicated than that, both in theory and in practice. You'd be hard-pressed to find many huntsmen or huntresses confident enough in their ability and self-discipline to even try it."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at the aura gauges."
She did just that, and her eyes widened. "Arslan's aura is lower than it should be. Yang hasn't even hit her yet."
"She's redirecting the flow of aura in her body as she moves; her attack power increases exponentially, but it eats away at her only line of defense. It's likely that she won't be able to hold out for much longer."
Ruby's eyes brightened. "Yang's gonna win, then!"
Another shake. "It's too early to say for certain. Altan's tapes have demonstrated that in similar circumstances she can find ways to turn things around in her favour. She has a few more cards up her sleeve, I'll bet."
XX
Yang grinned. She didn't really understand when it happened, but somewhere along the way she got the upper hand on the stuck up bitch. Whereas her opponent was sweating like a pig, she felt fresh as a daisy.
Well, almost.
One last push, then!
Out of habit more than anything else, she slammed her gauntleted fists together. The loud "clang!" that came from Ember Celica sounded like music to her ears.
She relished the feeling of superiority that flooded her being as Altan backpedaled, faced with her advance.
"I won't let you get away~" she singsonged. Growing cocky –and more assured of her victory– she accelerated by blasting kinetic rounds into the ground behind her.
The dark-skinned woman planted her feet.
"Wha–"
Arslan threw her dagger– a weapon she had yet to use for any prolonged amount of time the entire match– right at her head. Not able to fight against her momentum, she craned her neck and deflected it with the side of her gauntlet.
That was a mistake.
For reasons that weren't immediately apparent, Arslan swung her arm to the side.
There were three meters between them.
Two.
Yang's arms were suddenly pulled tightly into her person, making her lose her balance. She tumbled to the floor violently, rolling until she was stopped by Arslan's foot.
The platinum-blonde smirked viciously. She curled her fingers into a long fist; the aura gathered around it was so concentrated that it was visible to the naked eye.
Yang panicked. What just happened? Why couldn't she move her arms?
Her eyes darted down to her torso. She was wrapped in an incredibly thin wire.
"You–!"
"Goodnight."
Yang felt the two knuckles against her cheek vividly before the pain that followed.
The earth beneath them cratered, forming a cloud of dust and debris that enveloped the whole stage.
XX
Taka, Zhang, and Amethyst sighed in relief when Yang's aura didn't drop below fifteen percent. She was still in the match– by a good margin, too since the gauge had her closer to thirty. A much safer number than Arslan Altan's twenty.
"Safe," cheered Taka under her breath.
"Not exactly," corrected Jaune with trepidation thick in his voice.
"Eh?" the three looked to him.
"Aura is a fickle thing," Sage told them from the other end of the box. "It's like armor in the sense that you can bypass it entirely if you know what you're doing. If I know Altan like I think I do, then your friend just took a knockout blow to the head. Her aura might be good to go, but it won't mean much if she's unconscious."
The younger Signal students' eyes widened as it dawned on them that this might be the end of the road for them. Jaune kept staring ahead.
Unbeknownst to those present, Pyrrha's smile dropped into an unreadable expression. Her eyes locked onto Jaune with deep thought.
XX
From where she sat with her family, Mocha bit her nails nervously. She knew what a strike like that could mean.
She'd seen Yang do it plenty of times, after all.
Next to her, a slight forward lean was the only indication given of Coco's own anticipation.
XX
"Yang is…" Ruby trailed off.
Taiyang didn't say a word, nor did he look away from the cloud that started to clear.
XX
Arslan's chest heaved. That was it. That was all she had left to give. Xiao Long really pushed her down to the wire.
She chanced a look behind herself, realizing bemusedly that if the blonde reached her she'd be out of bounds, if not out of aura.
The final wisps of dust disappeared. The proctors would see the incapacitated state of her foe, and she'd be named–
Arslan's pupils constricted into pinpoints. "No!"
Yang stood up– if it could be called standing in the first place. Her legs found uneasy footing over the broken strings that had once restrained her.
The tips of her thick golden locks curled like the licks of a flame.
…It was a flame.
Quickly, the flame turned into a fire, then a blaze. Yang Xiao Long lit up like a human inferno.
She was a woman reborn. She planted her feet firmly, showing no more signs of a muddled mind.
"Shoulda hit a little harder."
Arslan scoffed.
"Clench those–"
"Yang Xiao Long wins by ring-out! The second match goes to Vale! Both locks are asked to prepare for a tiebreaker."
Huh?
Yang stood dumbly with her hand outstretched. Her semblance faded.
Arslan, who had taken a voluntary step backward, placed her hands on her hips. "An… adequate display. The audience would be disappointed if they couldn't see Nikos perform today, so I suppose I can forfeit my victory. Be thankful."
Yang's jaw dropped. "Thankful? I had you! Checkmate! Game over! You just chickened out."
"You did not 'have me," mocked the other. "Didn't you hear me? I gave you the fight."
For the umpteenth time, Yang's brow twitched viciously.
She was prideful, this one.