Chapter 22 – The Tuscan Sun
Walking along the bustling Vale commercial district pavement, I can clearly see how it earned its namesake.
Vendors of all shapes and sizes fills the streets to their brim: fattening fast-food joints, cavity-inducing candy stores, almost borderless beauty-clinics because of course they of all places somehow deserve that space, and many more venue of various varieties. I'm no spender, but the sheer quantity is leaving me spinning. I'm drowning in capitalism.
My shoulder bounces off someone, sending me reeling. An irritable voice hisses.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"S-sorry!" I call, rubbing my shoulder. The passer-by grumbles as he keeps walking. I let out a small sigh, doing the same. Bigger than Glasgow. It's a lot more packed too. My body huddles inward. I feel like I'm suffocating here.
I should really watch where I'm going.
As I continue towards my destination, I begin sneaking peeks at the store windows. I have little intention of buying anything but, it's nice eye-candy, literally in the case of the cake shops, as I close in on my destination. No harm in being a little curious, after all.
My shoes skid to a halt in front of a massive music store. Feeling an intense glee welling in my chest, I step out of the way of walking traffic and press up closely to the glass, gazing wide-eyed at the large collection of instruments. Some look familiar. Others, not so much.
They have what appears to be three curvy flutes entangled together to this saxophone thing at the end and, if my eyes believe what they're telling me to believe, the edges pop out in a manner that reminds me a lot of Crescent Rose's transformative capabilities. I'm not even sure how any kind of melodic rhythm is supposed to come out of that thing.
This world is weird.
I peer in deeper, flicking my eyes over the store's inners like a comic book, past the drums, acoustics, pianos, and whatever the hell half these things are, I find…
The most beautiful bass guitar I've ever laid my eyes upon.
Look at it! Dual pickups on the bridge and middle, a long scale neck, a body styled so vintage that even comic enthusiasts would salivate at it and… is that a tuning monitor? Oh my god, it is! It's folded in at the headstock, next to the tuning pegs. It's built into the bass itself! That's so cool! Imagine playing Orion with this thing. That'd be eight minutes of pure heaven!
Who are you and why are you not in my life right now? How much do you cost? I glean over the price tag and my shoulders instantly sag.
Uh, okay. Wow. Th-that's, um, yeah. That's a lot of digits.
The store clerk glances at me, quirking a questionably eyebrow. I suppose now's not a great time to mention that I'm completely skint.
Averting my eyes from the clerk, my cheeks beginning to burn, I step away from the window and keep moving, letting out another soft sigh. It's not like I was actually going to buy it or anything…
But man was that bass gorgeous, I whistle wistfully.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I check on the encroaching dark clouds above, humming warily as they turn a very grumpy shade of grey. Looking at a watery afternoon, here. Thankfully, the book store is less than a couple blocks away. According to the app, I need to go past the corner here, down the street and then take a right. Store should be right there. Simple enough.
However, as I make the turn, I'm blinded by the glaring cycling of red and blue. Blinking into clarity, I'm presented with a scene.
Police cars: policemen, and police tape surrounding a large shop with an ambulance slowly driving up at the other side of the blocked off road. I look at the shop, noticing the broken glass scattered across the ground, and my eyes snap open.
Protruding proudly atop the store is an emblem – A white snowflake.
Weiss' emblem. Then this place must belong to the company she's the heiress of. It was Dust they sold, wasn't it? I'm sure she mentioned it at one point. Then this must've been a Dust burglary. I wonder if she's aware of all this.
Just outside the shop, giving a statement to a couple of officers, is the clerk holding his bloodied head as the ambulance begins to unload. Peering closely, I can see tiny shards of glass sticking out from his forehead and his right shoulder misaligned slightly from its normal position. My eyes soften.
Poor guy.
A small crowd has congregated just beyond the taped lines, nothing too dramatic but the size is still apparent from passing glances. Though, as I scan amongst the flocking mass, my eyelids narrow, and my mind registers a dreadfully familiar shade of… silver. Silver and black.
My throat churns. Standing out like the Skytree in Tokyo, is Cardin Winchester, and he's not alone. Sky, Russel, and his crony flank him, spectating as the police go about their duty. I grip my hoodie tightly.
What the hell are they doing here?! They should be at lunch!
Sky leans closer to Russel and says something. I stand still, eying them both as Russel simply shakes his head. Their attention returns to the burglarised shop.
They haven't spotted me yet. Thank god. The crime scene seems to hold their interest enough.
Tukson's Book Trade is at the other end of the street. If I'm quiet enough, I should be able to avoid them quite easily.
With tepid steps, I tread gingerly on the pavement, trying to blend the sounds of my footsteps with the passing populace. As I pass the group by, turning my cheek in an attempt to ignore them, my ears pick up Sky casually asking his team a question.
"So, this is the fifth one, right?"
"Sixth," corrects Cardin.
"Second one this week," Russel adds gruffly. "These assholes are getting cocky. Damn crooks."
As they talk, I make it to the halfway mark. I'm mere centimetres behind Cardin's bricked back. I feel the temptation to turn swell but, I beat it back down again, stilling my shaking teeth.
Sky sighs deeply, "Look at him, covered in blood. Guy was just doing his job. He didn't deserve this."
"Hell no, he didn't," agrees his ill-tempered teammate. "This the same guy doing this?"
"You mean Roman Torchwick?"
I stop, felling to curiosity at the mention of the name.
Roman Torchwick. I've heard it before. Back on the airship earlier this Monday. That's the same guy who robbed that Dust store, the same guy they keep mentioning on the news, the same guy who Ruby tried to chase down that time.
"Yep. That's the one. Guy who loves his mascara too much," Cardin scoffs, shaking his head disapprovingly. Russel folds his arms and spits venom alongside him.
"Jackass."
"The most punchable face ever."
"Total jackass."
"Seriously, it looks like it was made from Styrofoam. I just want to punch it so damn hard that his entire head just blows up. Just-" Cardin smashes his fist into his palm, causing a resounding crashing sound more akin to a car-crash than a clap.
"I'll record it," Russel nods approvingly. The two grin gladly at each other.
"Hell yeah!"
They chuckle eagerly, knocking fists roughly like a pair of greasy frat boys. Geez. How much of an asshole is Roman Torchwick supposed to be if he's got these two thinking he's complete scum?
"Isn't Roman like this, great criminal mastermind or something?" The crony says. "Why aren't the Huntsmen working on this?"
Cardin lets out a hearty laugh at his crony's enquiry, smiling and he answers proudly, "Because if they were, there wouldn't be any crimes in the first place."
"Oh boy, here he goes," says Sky, rolling his eyes.
His team leader points at him and glares, "Shut it, Sky. If the Huntsmen worked on catching Roman, they'd have his entire hideout scouted and overrun, him busted and sent to jail with a little bow on his head and a note to the cops saying, 'Get a real job, numbnuts,' because they're that damn good."
Now I'm the one rolling his eyes. Not that I have a clue what the relationship between the Huntsmen and Kingdom police is like or anything, but he's doing a pretty good job at making it sound easy, and not in a Ruby way.
"You… really think it'd be that easy?" His crony asks hesitantly.
"Of course, Dove! They're the best of the best! Just like we're the best of the best," he proclaims proudly.
"Really?" Russel says, giving the crony a pointed look. "Even Bronzewing?"
The crony tries to force an amicable smile, not bothering to offer a retort to his scowling aggressive teammate.
Cardin cuts in-between them, blinking as if the insult had been directed at him, "Uh, did I goddamn stutter, Russel? Hell yeah, Dove's one of the best. He's on my team! Our team! Team CRDL!"
Without missing a beat, he drapes his long arms over his teams' shoulders. He doesn't budge them closer, though I have no doubts that he could, but he keeps them there as if to unite his team through his bulky strength.
"We handle crap nobody else can. Kingdoms being attacked? We got it. Bandits being pricks? Nobody even remembers them anymore. Rare Grimm? That thing's already been cut up, shot up, mashed up and beaten so friggen badly that its entire race pissed itself in embarrassment from how one-sided it was!"
"And that's just the start. Boys, by the end of our careers, I guarantee we are going to be legends. They're going to write books about how great we are," he cheers grandly, like he's a Viking performing a speech for his fellow warriors.
Russel's nose scrunches up in repulsion, "Books? Screw that, I want an epic movie trilogy."
"Sure! Why the hell not?" Cardin shrugs, smacking Russel playfully on the arm. "As soon as we graduate, we can do whatever the hell we damn well please! Because from here on out, boys." He points up towards the sky, grinning wildly.
"It's all the way up to the top."
The crony smiles widely at his team leader, looking at him like an ignorant voter supporting a political candidate.
Russel sighs dramatically but, I can see a small smirk stretch from the side of his mouth. At least, I hope that's him smirking. Otherwise, his skin is contorting in a painfully creepy way. It's like his face is trying to reject all signs of positivity by pushing it out.
Sky just laughs, "You done, big guy?"
"I'll start again, Sky. So help me," Cardin threatens with an indignant glare.
My fingers fidget. He sounds so certain of all of it, like it's pre-destined. It's exactly how he was when he talked down to Pyrrha today.
He says what he's going to do, and he genuinely believes that he and everyone around him can do it. Even if that thing were to kill a god. I can't recall the last time I had even a smidge of that kind of self-confidence. If I ever had it, that is.
I sigh lightly to myself. I should leave. They've stopped talking about Roman Torchwick. I'm not going to learn anything more from them. Moving with the crowd, I walk to the end of the straight, focused on completing my goal. The bookshop is right around the corner.
I take the turn and, within a few footsteps, I'm in front of my destination.
'Tukson's Book Trade,' the sign says, emboldened in golden paint. 'Home to every book under the sun.'
I find the latter statement highly unlikely, looking at the size of the thing. I wouldn't call it small exactly, comfortable feels more suitable, but nor would I peg it as anything bigger than a community library in a rural town. No way can it have 'Every book under the sun.' I've been to the Beacon library hall, it makes this place look like a cheap alleyway business with frittering books stored in soggy boxes run by a withering hobo who smokes more than he breathes.
…I just made myself sad, now.
"No, seriously! I saw him! I saw Liddell!"
My heart skips thrice. A thick rocky substance lodges itself in my stomach. I can hear the thunderous clamping of boots storming in my direction.
That's the crony's voice. He saw me. After all that time spent eavesdropping, now I get myself caught?!
"He went this way! Come on!"
My teeth jitter. I can't let them nab me. No way. Not here!
My eyes flicker towards the ends of the street. It's a straight line. They'd easily spot me and, with all the pedestrians dotting along the pavement, I'm more likely to knock someone down than evade them.
I glint at the shop. My only real chance.
Rushing towards it, I swing the door open and hurry myself in. Closing it, I curdle my limbs inward, making myself as small as possible, as I hide behind the small wooden panelling underneath the door window. I swallow down, silently praying that they pass the shop without question.
"Ahem."
I jolt. My head whirls towards the end of the shop. Standing behind the counter, casually carrying two large stacks of books in his arms, is a tall, muscular with onyx black hair and some very prominent sideburns. He blinks expectantly at me, curious as to the reason why I'm crouching under his front door like a five-year-old.
He must be the owner, I smack myself in realization. He's Tukson.
"There! He must've went in there!"
I snap back to the door, feeling all the air being drained from my lungs. They found me! Damn it! They didn't even glance through the windows, they just knew!
What do I do?! If I make a run, they'd snatch me instantly and the shop's interior's too small to hide in! I'm trapped! Stupid! Stupid move, Eren!
Tukson sighs to himself, putting the books to the side. I watch him, still wide-eyed in panic, as he walks to the French doors leading to the back and opens them.
He gives me a look and bobs his head in its direction.
He's… helping me?
Boots draw closer. No time to question it. I bound away from the door and scurry through the door, whispering a faint "Thank you" to Tukson as I pass. Tukson removes his hand and the doors shut behind me.
The room he's led me into appears to be an especially cramped looking office. There are fallen books everywhere as well as several folders with text upon text of documentation in them and even a desk covered in paperwork. Boy, running your own book store's a job and a half, huh?
I jump as the sharp sound of the front door opening booms throughout the store. I press myself up against the wall, away from sight, listening as Tukson greets the group cordially.
"Afternoon, boys. Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade: Home to every book from under the sun. Anything I can help you with?"
"…Just looking, thanks," Cardin replies. There's a slam. Several footsteps ring through the shop.
"What's there to look at? This place is smaller than our dorm," Sky comments.
"No kidding," Russel huffs after him.
The crony quivers, "W-well maybe this guy's seen him. His windows are big, he would know where Liddell went."
"You're looking for a friend of yours?" The bookshop owner enquires. I keep myself still, biting my tongue. He didn't think to bring me in here just so he could sell me out, would he?
Their leader hums back, "Something like that. He's a short guy. Really skinny. Looks round about our age."
"Has this stupid blue hoodie he's in love with," the crony adds. I find myself clutching onto it. His voice grows exasperate after a moment. "What? He always wears that thing. It's creepy! That's how I saw him."
That's… That's how he…
Creepy? Do other people think that too? Do they notice it? B-but that's not how it's supposed to work. The passing eye isn't supposed to notice it. It's supposed…
It's supposed to be normal…
"Sure you did, Bronzewing. Just like how you saw that Scarlatina chick but then she magically turned into a real bunny," Sky says sarcastically.
"I'm serious! I saw him!"
Tukson answers them, keeping his tone placid, "Hm. Sorry, but I'm afraid I didn't see a boy in a 'blue hoodie.' If your friend really saw him, he didn't come this way."
"What?!" The crony exclaims, hands planting on what I believe to be the front desk. "No! You had to have seen him! He ran in your shop's direction!"
"Called it. Bronzewing didn't see him," groans Russel. "You wasted our time again. Well done, dumbass."
"Yeah, let's bail," agrees Sky. "Sorry shop-keep."
"Load of bullshit…"
Their steps grow further away, heading towards the front. They're planning to leave. They're actually going away. Thank goodness, I let out a voiceless sigh of relief.
"No, no! I did see him! He went this way! I saw it!" The crony cries desperately. "Cardin, you saw him, right? Back me up here!"
Cardin takes a moment to answer. Nails scratch against his neck's skin as he wheezes wearily, "…I wasn't looking, Dove. Nobody was. Just drop it. We'll catch Liddell-boy some other time."
A quiet elation spreads across my face. Even Cardin's giving up on looking for me, I'm practically in the home straight. I can't believe this is actually working!
After few audible pats to the back, Cardin heavy boots trample towards the door. From this far away, the walls muffle a quick exchange of words between the three. The lack of a fourth set of footsteps tell me that the crony is still standing idly at the front desk. Lingering on his failure, most likely. I'm finding it very difficult to feel the least bit sorry for him, though. I'm just waiting for him to leave.
"Wait," he starts again. "The back door, what's behind it?"
The hairs on my neck prickle but Tukson's voice barely changes a decibel.
"There? A few piles of books for restocking and an office. That's off-limits to customers," he says.
Everything goes quiet for a second. Blinking, I press my ear up closer to the wall. A soft, breathy giggling emits from the other side, building slowly until he's fully blown laughing. My gut sinks. No. He didn't. He's laughing in realization, in pride at his discovery.
"Ah… Ahahah! That's it! I knew it! You're hiding him!"
He knows!
"Oh, you stupid stubborn shithead!" Russel roars. Fumes pluming from his mouth, he storms towards the front desk and grabs the crony roughly by the scruff of his scarf. "Give it up, already! You screwed up! Leave him the hell alone!"
The crony shouts back, "No! I'm onto him! He…" He struggles in vain against Russel's violent grip, throat croaking under pressure as he cries out, "Look at his nails! Looks at his nails right there!"
His… nails?
"What the hell are you-"
The struggle stops suddenly. Russel gasps, as he releases his grasp on the crony. I feel tempted to sneak a peek through the french door windows but, with so much attention at the front, they'd spot me instantly. What about his nails? What's going on?
"…He's right. These aren't nails at all. They're claws," Russel says, the tension is his voice rising like a boiling volcano.
Claws?
I cup my hands around my mouth, preventing myself from gasping at the realization. That means…
"This bastard's a Faunus!" Russel erupts.
Cardin returns to the desk, tone noticeably more hostile, "He's… what."
The crony nods, "Yeah, yeah! Remember those books from the other day? Liddell has a Faunus fetish!"
My fingers clench my skull. Patches of white icy cold fear and red burning hot flushes dart around my face. Calling it a perverted kink was bad enough but, they're honestly assuming that I know this guy because of that?! This guy has nothing to do with me!
Leave him alone!
"Hiding your identity, huh? What else you hiding, big man? Something bad?" Cardin says.
"Bit convenient, ain't it? Small time shop, right in the middle of Vale? You're a White Fang infiltrator, aren't you? You sneaky bastard," Russel snarls, slamming his fists on the desk. "You're a goddamn terrorist!"
"…You're all making a lot of assumptions here, boys. If you haven't noticed, I'm not hiding from anyone," Tukson says carefully.
"Oh, yeah? Then what do you have in your back room?! White Fang plans!" Russel venomously accuses. I flinch at his burning intensity. His temper's worsening. It doesn't matter what Tukson tells him now, he's not going to believe a single word.
The crony interjects, "Uh, Russel? I was, uh, thinking more along the lines of Li-"
"Shut up, Bronzewing! I don't give a shit about Liddell!" He bites.
"O-okay, okay," heels the crony, whimpering away like a smacked dog. Cardin's footsteps creep up to flank Russel,
"If this terrorist isn't going to tell us anything, I say…" His voice sparks dangerously. "We perform our duty."
My skin feels frosty. A sweaty breath exhales as my heartbeat batters rapidly. He wouldn't do it. He's not serious. He wouldn't dare…
"Are you boys threatening me? I wouldn't make those lightly if I were you," Tukson warns. He's not raising his voice like Russel but, I can feel a certain sharpness around it, like a sword slowly being drawn from its sheath.
But Cardin is undaunted, "No? Because I can sure as hell back them up, you rat."
"Uh, hold on-" The crony attempts to object but is quickly swept aside by the forceful needless of the two aggressive fighters.
"Damn straight, you goddamn animal. We'll make you talk, even if we have to burn this whole damn place to the ground!" Russel spits, refusing to back down.
"Th-this is getting a little extreme now! Uh, Sky? Sky, do something!"
"Nothing I can do, Bronzewing. Once Russel's face to face with a Faunus, nothing can stop him. Just stay out of the way and wait until it's over," Sky answers, complicit.
"What?!" The crony shrieks, reeling in horror. "Guys! Come on! This is crazy! I-I thought we just went after students! Not civilians!"
Cardin and Russel close in on Tukson, baring over him like two lions about to tear a piece of meat to bits. My nails dig into the side of my cheek. They're going to maul him. They're going to maul and it's my fault! I shouldn't have come here, I should've ran!
I eye the door handle. I can't let him be beaten for my dumb mistakes. I have to stop them! Leaping towards it, I put a hand on the handle and-
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," warns Tukson again. I stop, hand resting on the handle, blinking as I remain hidden. Was… he talking to me?
"Love your tough talk, huh? Sorry but, we're not some little kids who'd fall for crap like that," Cardin growls.
The shop-keeper shakes his head, his arm dropping underneath the desk, "I'm not trying to intimidate you, I'm trying to warn you."
Thump, thump.
He prods the underside of his desk. I raise my eyebrows in utter confusion, as does the rest of team CRDL. Why's he doing that? What's under there?
Sky gasps.
"A silent alarm!"
"Wh-what?!" The crony exclaims. "When did he push it?!"
"Early enough. You're not the first batch of self-righteous punks to try and mess with me and my store," says Tukson. "The police have a car dispatched just a block from here. They'll be here any minute now. You're all Huntsmen-in-training, right? What exactly would your academy think if they found out you all were arrested for malicious intent. Last I checked, Huntsmen are supposed to defend the innocent. Not persecute them based on their species."
In a single moment, the tension in the entire room changes. While Sky and the crony's shocked reactions are far more evident, the terse shift in the lack of aggression from Cardin and Russel gives their apprehension away. They're not jumping over and throttling the man first-hand, they have something to think about now.
As do I, still holding onto the handle.
Russel grits his teeth, leaning into the desk dogmatically, "You're bluffing. You didn't call crap. There's nothing there!"
I chew my lip. Isn't there? I don't know, I never checked. I rushed past him without even considering it.
"Are you sure you want to test that?" Tukson asks calmly. His voice isn't faltering. There's no hesitation: no stutters, no stammers, no mumbles, no murmurs, no reluctance, no doubt. If he's truly lying or not, I don't think any of us is able to tell. Russel still hasn't thrown a punch, he can't tell either.
Tukson's in complete control, both in the situation and in himself.
The crony's losing his mind. He pleads to his leader, "Cardin! Stop him! W-we're all going to get arrested!"
Cardin's quiet, contemplative. Sky may not be able to reason with Russel, but reasoning won't matter if their leader simply decided to grab him and pull him out of the book shop. He's at the very least thinking about it. He has to be aware of the consequences.
Cardin, please. Stop this!
"Nobody leave."
Damn it, no!
"A-are you kidding me?!" The crony shrieks in dismay. "O-oh god! This can't be happening. This isn't happening! We're all going to jail!"
Ploy or not, it doesn't matter to them. They're going to attack him whether it's true or not. It's like logic has totally slipped their minds and they're turning into ravaging beasts. We're back at square one, again.
The handle jitters in my hands. What do I do? If Tukson's lying, then the pair of them are going to tear him apart, the police won't show, and I'll be stuck watching in here like a coward! But, what if he isn't? What if he's telling the truth, but I go out there? Would I make the situation even worse? Would I spring something I couldn't handle?
The silence is painful: Cardin and Russel are still there, about to attack, Sky and the crony are standing there, refusing to do anything and Tukson is standing in the middle of it all, cool but in the middle of all their fire.
"Well then," he says. "Make your move."
What do I do? What do I do? What the hell do I do?!
"Screw this!"
With that yell, the silence mercifully dies. The remaining CRDL members break formation, turning to stare surprised at their teammate as his boots retreat from the shop.
"S-Sky?" The crony stammers.
"Sky!" Russel exclaims, aghast. "What the hell, man?! Where are you going?!"
"Russel, dude, I've been cool with your 'I hate Faunus' thing for a long, long time but, I am not going to lose my position at Beacon for this! I've worked too damn hard for it!" He shouts back, opening the front door. "I'm out!"
The door bangs against its hinges as Sky flees the scene.
Russel calls out for him, "Sky! Sky! Motherf-" Before he gives chase, he glares daggers at Tukson, steam fuming from his nostrils. He points at him, "You'll get yours," and then rushes out of the store, still yelling out in aggravation for his teammate.
"Dove," Cardin speaks.
"Y-yeah?" He replies.
"We're leaving."
The… Bronzewing, nods at this, "Good…"
I let go of the door handle, feeling the shirt beneath my hoodie drenched in sweat. I allow the sharp breaths to come, running a hand across my forehead. That was… far too close to becoming something serious.
"Liddell-boy." My body freezes. "Hiding and letting somebody else deal with your problems. That the kind of leader you really are? You're even more pathetic than I thought," Cardin says snidely. I can picture his face writhing in contempt.
"People like you don't deserve to be Huntsmen."
Finally, Cardin and Bronzewing exit the shop, leaving both it and its owner in peace.
Tukson lets out a gigantic breath of air.
"If these kids are the future of the Huntsmen, justice truly is dead in the world," he muses bitterly. He chaps on the way lightly. "You can come out now."
Meekly, I stand up and return to the main area of the shop. I take a glance at the interiors, thankfully left unharmed by the team. I let out a small sigh and I bow my head to the gracious shop owner.
"I-I'm so very sorry. I-I shouldn't have led them here. Th-that was… That was a mistake. I am so, so sorry."
Tukson rubs his neck tiredly but waves me off, "No, it happens. Besides, I picked that battle. If I didn't want that to happen, I would've left you there."
"S-still, y-you shouldn't have had to deal with that," I say. That shouldn't have escalated the way it did. Getting caught would've made things easier for him.
But, Tukson shakes his head, "Kid, I used to deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis. At least I don't have to deal with it as often, anymore."
O-oh, right.
I sneak a look at his nails, or rather his claws. They're real, sharp and steel-like. I've read that Faunus traits manifest themselves in different ways but, I never thought they'd be quite so subtle. Do other Faunus have traits that aren't quite so obvious? How does he brandish them? Are there any other benefits that come with it?
He's giving me odd looks now.
"S-sorry," I say.
"So, you're a student too?" Tukson says, changing the subject. He eyes me critically. "A leader, huh? Not what I expected but, better this than you so-called classmates."
Thanks… I suppose. I don't think I'd have to make that much of an effort though.
A thought rekindles in my head.
"Um, actually, my academy is sort of why I'm here," I tell him, flashing my Scroll. "I-I've been sent here by the academy to, um, t-to, uh, to order some books f-for them."
He raises an eyebrow, thumb on his chin. "In person?" Is… that not normal? Does the school have a direct line to its book distributers? I wish I could say. I don't know a thing about business, I'm completely clueless.
He nods, "Very well. Fire away."
I open the notepad app and recite every single book the T.A. told me. Despite not having a jotter of his own, Tukson seems to take in all the book names easily. By the time I reach the finally book, he seems to already have all to committed to his to do list.
"And… The Man of a Thousand Lives," I finish.
Tukson unfolds his arms. "Right. Okay. I'll contact my providers and let me know. I'll inform your academy of the shipping details when I get them," he explains. "Alright, we're done. You can go tell your teachers you've done your job."
I bob my head, "Mm. Okay. Th-thank you."
Job's done. Time to go back to Beacon. I've still got a lot of research to catch up on, and I need to dry the bath before I suffer through another watery night. I turn away and head for the front door, stopping at Tukson's voice.
"Hey, kid," he says, pointing a finger at his chin and flicking it upwards. "Keep your chin up. The moment you begin to think you're the problem is the moment they win. Don't give them the satisfaction."
…He's right. The more I let their words bother me, the harder it becomes to endure them long enough. Show signs of faltering and they'll eat me alive.
I bow in appreciation, "R-right. Thank you, Tukson," before leaving the book trade.
And soon as I leave the shop, my head is splashed damp. Gazing up and, yep. The grey clouds from earlier have burst and the entirety of Vale is being pelted by an onslaught of rain. Streams of water begin to flow at the side of the streets, flooding into sewer gates. Umbrella-less people run by, seeking cover, splashing pools of water all over the place.
I put on my hood and begin to run. Within a few seconds, I'm running drenched. Some things never change. Wherever a Scotsman may go, rain is sure to follow. It's depressingly normal.
I'm oddly thankful for it, though. It's comforting, a familiar feeling in a land I don't fully understand.
The next airship back to Beacon should be leaving in about ten minutes or so. The station's a fair distance away but, If I hurry, I should be able to catch it and save myself another drizzling thirty minutes.
I almost trip at a loud booming sound.
My eyes snap up. In the sky, burning powerfully towards the Academy, is a locker. That's one of the rocket lockers from the school.
That must be the same locker from earlier, the one called during lunch.
That's strange. Lunch was nearly an hour ago. A typical encounter with random punks shouldn't last more than two minutes at best.
This isn't sitting right with me…
I take note of the smoke trail funnelling out barely a few blocks away. My lips curl uncomfortably, glancing at my Scroll's clock again. It could be nothing but, I just know that this'll only keep bothering me if I don't make sure. I'll grab the airship after it.
Affirming my decision, I race towards the residing trail, ducking past other people on my way to the crime.
Tracking the source, I find myself skidding to a halt outside of an arcade. The building itself isn't the source though, as I see no evidence of structural damage or assaulted people anywhere. The locker launched in-between it and another building, in an alleyway.
Alleyways, I murmur. Clammy, claustrophobic and worldwide criminal hotspots. Never good.
Multiple echoing footsteps startle me. I throw myself behind cover, peeking out to observe the possible contributors to the scene. Three individual footsteps, I count. Though…
My breath hitches. I know these footsteps. Quite clearly, actually.
Team CRDL exits the alleyway though, Sky is nowhere to be seen.
Cardin stretches his arms, sighing happily, "Ahh! Russel, my man, you weren't kidding. Guy's like a walking talking punching bag. He just feels so good to hit! That's what I call stress relief."
Russel grumbles in response, cracking his knuckles.
Bronzewing is currently leaning against the wall, gagging and making sickening sounds. I think I heard him mumble, "Why couldn't we have left his boxers on?"
"Come on. Let's go hit up the arcade. Rain's going to be on for a while," Cardin says. His teammates comply as all three usher themselves into the arcade.
Ensured that none of them saw me, I step out of cover, peering curiously down the alley.
What the hell were they up to in there?
Apprehension caressing my heart, I pace deeper inward, shoes clicking gingerly against stone. Raindrops rattle loose piping as whatever light beaming through the darkened clouds is blocked out by the ensnaring buildings.
Eventually, I reach a small clearing. Black bags and trash bins align the wall belonging to the arcade, filled with discarded discount cups and other scrounged up filth. In the middle is a small crater caved through the pavement, slowly filling with water. This must be where the locker landed then. Which means whoever it was that Cardin…
They should still be around here.
Breathing. Heavy breathing. It's hoarse, uneven, like their lungs are exhaling out of sync. It's agonizing to listen to. I spin around. It seems to be coming from the direction of the trash. One of the trash bins is shuddering horribly.
"H-hello?" I call out timidly.
It stops. A shaky voice emits from the bin.
"…E-Eren?"
No way.
"Jaune? Is that you?" I call, closing in. "What are you doing in there?" Immediately forgoing my anxiety, I reach for the bin lid.
"No, wait! Don't lift it u-"
I pry it open and…
"Oh my god," I gasp, blood colouring my face bright red as I reel back in shock. Jaune snatches the lid out of my hand and covers himself back up again. Face still beating red, I turn away while frantically repeating, "I-I am so, so sorry!"
Now I understand what Bronzewing was talking about. And unfortunately, what Cardin was talking about.
Bruises. Several of them, big and small, beaten into his body. I think I saw a couple patches of purple around his abdomen too. They look awful but, they shouldn't even be there in the first place. Not if his Aura…
I gulp. I know. Everything around me is pointing to it being the answer but, I need him to validate it.
"Jaune. You were in that locker, weren't you?" I ask him. "You didn't show up after your fight. I sent you some texts but, you never responded. What were you doing in there?"
"I…" His mouth sounds sticky, like his saliva has turn to glue and he's struggling to fight it. My shoulders tense. Jaune's never had any problems answering before, not even when faced with Weiss' fury.
It's true, isn't it? Tell me it's true.
"…I really don't want to talk about it."
…Then it is true.
Cardin's been going Jaune, like he has me. He took his clothes: he shoved him into the locker, he sent him to Vale, he dragged him out again and then he… beat him.
A burning blaze bubbles in my stomach. He couldn't have settled for making my life hell, could he? He had to go for Jaune.
That bastard.
I wish I fired. I wish I pointed the barrel in his direction. I wish I never listen to myself and gave them exactly what they deserve!
Air thrashes from my clenched maw. But it's never that simple, is it? Of course it's not, why would it be? It wasn't simple in High School with egos fraying and self-control limited. How could this be any different?!
I breathe, pushing the raging fire down. I don't know how to solve that, so I shouldn't worry about it now.
My teammate's holing himself up in a trash bin, covered in rotten apples and flat sugary drinks. This takes priority.
Jaune sighs, "Look, Eren, just leave me here, alright? I'll figure something out. You don't have to stick around."
Like hell I don't. Does he really expect me to abandon him and pretend this never happened? No way.
Besides, "You don't have your Scroll on you, do you?"
His silence confirms it.
I rest my finger on my chin, pacing around the alley as I observe my surroundings. Alright, here's the problem. Jaune's… n-naked. I need to grab him some clothes for the airship -We can use my student ID to get on- but if I did it all myself, Jaune would be left alone for far too long and someone else might discover him.
I glance at the crater in the ground. A thought comes to mind…
I click my fingers in delight.
"Hold on! I think I have an idea," I tell him, scavenging for my Scroll and opening my contacts.
I'll admit, I really don't feel comfortable with asking someone else for help but, this isn't about me. I shouldn't be trying to prove anything here. This is about helping Jaune and getting him back to Beacon safe and sound.
I linger on the two names presented to me. I only need to ask one of them for assistance but, I'm not entirely sure who. I tap my cheek, deep in thought.
…I choose. I tap her name and let the dial ring. Within a few seconds, she picks up and a cheerful voice comes through.
"Hey, Eren! What's going on?"
I smile, "Hey, Yang. Listen, um, I hate to ask but, I kinda need a favour."
"You're… asking me for help?" She asks, taken aback. I can feel her eyes narrow at me from beyond the call. "What does Ruby call your gun?"
"Violet Vigil and, yes, it's really me asking this. It's a… special situation," I answer.
She snorts, "I'll bet. What do you need?"
"Is Weiss still around?"
"Her? I think she went back to your team's dorm."
Good. That makes things much easier.
"Okay. Go to my room, knock on the door and ask her to let you in. Tell her it's important LABS business," I explain.
"Ugh, I have to talk to her?" She moans loudly. I can't really blame her. I don't like dealing with her normally, and I don't have a choice.
I rub my head apologetically, "Sorry. I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't urgent."
She sighs dramatically, "Fine. I'll deal with it. What then?"
"Go into our closet and take out some of Jaune's clothes, they're the biggest ones there. Don't worry if they don't match, I just need a full-set."
"So, you found him then?" She asks.
"Y-yeah," I reply, unable to hold back a stutter.
Her voice coats with concern, "Did something happen?"
"It's… not my story to tell," I reply sombrely.
"Is he okay?"
I glance back at Jaune. His blue eyes blink at me from inside the bin, neck up in disgusting half-eaten fast food. He looks so… rundown.
My hand clings to the Scroll.
"He's… not his usual self."
"That does sound urgent," she says seriously.
I shake my head. That isn't hers to be burdened with. I only need her help with the clothes. Everything else is on me.
"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it. Once you've got his clothes, head to the locker room and go to my locker. The passcode is ten, zero, eight, twelve. Put his clothes in there and then send me a text. I'll take it from there," I explain further.
"Go to your room: annoy the ice queen to open the door, steal Vomitboy's puke-pants, and stuff them in your locker. Anything else, oh master? Muffin? Sour-bomb? It's a special occasion. You might never ask me for help again." Her usual lively self returns, but it's a supplement, not a replacement. I know she's still taking this situation seriously. I can't help but choke on a laugh.
"An I.O.U on your desk is fine for me, thanks," I reply jokingly.
Yang's feigns a sour tone, blenching, "Bleh. That's not very imaginative."
I giggle softly, "I did technically design Warbreaker, you know. Imagination's not my strong suit."
She scoffs exaggeratedly, "Oh, you know that's not true. You just need a little motivation."
Hm. Motivation, huh?
"I'll add a couple of rocket-launchers to the top of it, then," I say playfully.
"That's the spirit!" She laughs. I can't help but laugh with her. This usually happens when we talk to one another. It's something we can't really help. We both just love to laugh, I suppose.
It's nice. Honestly, it's one of the many reasons I like being around her.
My laughter slowly fades away, "Heh. Well, I better go. Thanks for doing this, Yang." My finger pre-emptively gets into position to end the call when her voice stops me.
"Eren, wait. About earlier…"
…Of course. Lunch. She did say that it 'Wasn't over' didn't she? I suppose it was a bit too optimistic of me to hope that she wouldn't bring it up. She did say it 'Wasn't over.' Yang always makes good on her promises.
I exhale softly and step a few paces away from Jaune. I want this part to be private.
"It's nothing. Really. Don't get worked up about it," I say. I'm putting on the best assuring tone I possibly can but, Yang doesn't give it any mind.
Her voice, however, is strangely gentle as she asks, "Do you remember what I said to you all those months ago? When we both went to Patch?"
All those months ago?
Oh. I see. In November, when they first took me in. The bike ride into Patch. It was also the first time Yang and I spent any real time together outside of anxious greetings and a one-sided duel.
The café.
"Yeah, I remember," I affirm.
'Just, y'know, if there's anything you want to talk about, you can tell me,' she says, flashing me a cocky smile. 'Trust me, I'm a better listener than I look.'
That's what she told me. I remember it all too well.
"I meant it. Whatever this thing with Sky is, I can help."
…She did say that. She asked me out, looking to find out about where I came from, about why my name was different from everyone else's, about why I didn't want to tell them anything. She only got one answer that day, but she hasn't asked since. None of them have.
She offered to be an ear for anything I wanted to talk about. I accepted, for whatever reason my panic-addled mind had.
Maybe I did want it. Or maybe I was just being polite. Whatever the reason, things are different now.
And I can't accept it.
Her voice is purely earnest, "You don't need to push me out."
…She always liked it when I'm honest.
"…That's the thing. I do."
She goes quiet. I can't see her face, but I'm not sure if I want to. Is she disappointed? I wish she weren't, but I have to do this alone. Or else, I'll never truly be their equal.
"Bye, Yang," I say lowly.
"…Yeah. Bye."
I wince slightly.
It's not bitter, or even angry, but it's not happy either. She hangs up first and I take a deep breath. She didn't say anything about not helping with this so, the plan's still on at least.
I exhale, brushing my hair to the left. Please don't take this personally. You're not the problem.
…Jaune. I still need to help Jaune. I turn back around.
"Right," I begin elaborating. "Yang's handling the first part. Once she's loaded my locker with your clothes, I'll call it here and you can put them on inside it. It's still afternoon so, the airship back to Beacon should be still working. We'll use my Scroll to get us both in and you'll be back in our room within an hour."
His head stretches further out, face brightening somewhat, "Huh. Very neat and tidy."
I nod, "Hopefully, it will be." Assuming Weiss doesn't make a show and dance out of it.
He shifts uneasily, "Does she know about…"
I blink, "Yang? She probably caught on but, don't worry. She won't laugh at you."
I think I made it pretty clear that what's happened isn't funny. Having a sense of humour entails that you know when the right time to make a joke is.
"Talk about small mercies. Heheh…" Jaune chuckles bitterly. I pick up one of the binbags to drain the water pooling into it. I place it back down and take a seat, sitting down gingerly enough that it doesn't burst. I'm already drenched from the rain anyway, so it's not too big of a deal. All we need to do now is wait for Yang to come back.
My nose twitches, "Achoo!"
I sniffle. Ugh. Hope that's not another cold coming on. Winter was bad enough. Turns out, wearing a lukewarm hoodie instead of an actual warm jacket in the icy outback wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had.
"Eren. Why are you doing this?" Jaune asks suddenly.
"Hm?" I tilt my head in confusion. His eyes are cast down, staring at the rubbish inside. He's been humiliated, beaten and now he's freezing in a trash bin. The fact that he's asking me that while he's stuck in there baffles me. "Should I not be?"
"No. It's… Ugh," he heaves tiredly, gazing at the bin. "Look at me. Look at where I am. I'm naked an-and covered in trash! This is…" He rubs his face. "Th-this is… definitely a new one. I-I'll give it that."
Jaune…
"I'm… not sure why you would ask me that," I admit. "But, that's exactly why I'm doing this. You're in trouble. I… I can't walk away from that."
I smile softly, "I can't just leave you alone."
We exchange a look. I nod assuredly at him. It's as he said, he's stuck here without any means of returning to Beacon. He'd be in this trash bin until morning, waiting until one of us found him again. Why would I walk away? How could I?
Jaune quietly slivers back into the bin. I can't tell if he's satisfied with my answer or not.
I rub my hands together and breathe hot air into them, waiting patiently for Yang's signal as I stare into the crater hole.
Cardin. I shouldn't have been so self-centred to think that I was the only one he's been after. This is starting to become serious and I don't know if my tactic of avoiding him is going to work for much longer. When it came down to it, figuring out how to get Jaune back felt simple. But with Cardin…
I sigh again. How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?
A/N: Yay. Dialogue chapters. My favourite. God, I miss fight scenes. Proper ones, not that farce with Eren Vs. Sky. I want to write someone getting punched across the room again. I want chaos! Mindless, untempered chaos! I will make Eren's pain receptors short-circuit damn it!
Instead, I wrote a naked Jaune hiding in a trash bin scene. Because I swear to god, I actually do like Jaune. Honest. Pinky swear.
Anyway, managed to squeak this one out before exam time. This one will definitely be the last until May. Got to be a responsible human being and get all them grades. Because lord do I need them.
Also, Calamity Factor hit 100 favorites last month! Thank you all very much for sticking with the story for so long and, hopefully, I will start to pick up the update pace and this story can go a little quicker.
As always, if you have any thoughts on the story so far, be they good or bad, be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is encouraged!