Chapter 15: Decisive Decider

The day had finally arrived.

All over Vale, excitement was reaching a roaring fevered pitch as thousands of people clamored into Amity Colosseum, the seats filling up more rapidly than they ever had before in a record-breaking turnout the likes of which hadn't been seen in decades. The massive floating stadium was being packed to the point that not a single seat was unoccupied, not a single lounge was empty, and not a single area of the Colosseum with a holo-screen within a few yards' remove wasn't packed with people who couldn't make it to the stands. The entire world was tuning in, with viewership statistics skyrocketing across the board, and in all four Kingdoms the pre-match highlights were being broadcast live, filling the time with highlight reels of every match leading up to this one. The only analog to this level of hype, as well as the turnout in Amity, was the Vytal Final of Qrow Branwen VS Silver Soteria, years and years prior, which had been described in the intervening years as the greatest Vytal Matchup in tournament history. And now, a match being hyped up as the most anticipated Vytal Final in the history of the Vytal Tournament, Noir Harceleur VS Remmy Of Haven, had the entire world tuning in, with many expecting this to utterly surpass the previous match in question.

Noir sat in the locker room on the east side of the Stadium, sitting in quiet meditation, his ears plugged to shut out all the noise from outside. Never in his life had he felt so much pressure, especially with how much this one match represented for him personally. He wasn't just representing his old team, he wasn't just representing Beacon Academy, he was now representing all of the Kingdom Of Vale. Every citizen in the Kingdom would be watching him. Admittedly he had never really been a sports or competitive type of person, in fact he found such things rather boring. Nothing more than needless muscle flexing, really, an opportunity for athletes to show off how exceptional they were to a crowd that could only dream to be so athletic in their lives. He'd never understood the point of any of it, and this tournament was the first time he'd ever been actually involved in such a contest. Even now with the final looming, he didn't understand the appeal. Watching people fight one another in an arena...Noir knew in his heart that none of this was a true exemplar of one's combat prowess.

It wasn't just the representation or spectation aspects that brought on a feeling of pressure for Noir. There was also his opponent, and Noir had to admit to a slight feeling of unease as his suspicions of "Remmy" swirled around in his mind. He'd rewatched every single one of his matches from the Tournament, and Noir was truly bothered by them, and by Remmy himself. Noir had seen his changes in demeanor, as though his mood was some kind of roulette wheel, spun at random to select whatever personality Remmy felt like taking on in that moment. In the Round of Teams, he'd been calm and collected and had won with an air of relaxation similar to Noir's own. In the Doubles Round he'd been high on adrenaline, never standing still even for a moment, and had defeated both Yatsuhashi and Coco resoundingly, with Emerald having done next to nothing in comparison. Against Penny, he'd been hyperactive and dropping one-liners and quips every other second. Against Raiko Ao, he'd been impatient, and had utterly decimated the Shade Student. The same had happened with Ivan Malinovyy, with Remmy holding nothing back and utterly humiliating him. All these changes in his demeanor had bothered Noir immensely. It was far too schizophrenic, too erratic, too inconsistent. No one in their right mind switched personalities on a whim like that. Who was he really? What was he hiding?

By now, Noir had become fully convinced beyond doubt that Remmy was the assassin Diabolus. His changes in demeanour, his style of combat that seemed to vacillate from precise and calculated to wild and maniacal, the fact that no one seemed to know a solitary thing about who he was, all of it pointed at a person hiding in plain sight. And yet one thing didn't add up. Remmy's propensity for attention-grabbing antics seemed to outshine any and all possibilities of a person in hiding, and yet for Noir, this was the greatest sign of them all. It was a form of reverse psychology. By acting like an attention-seeking, humor-injected wild child, it all but removed any semblance of doubt that he was anything but. Constantly grabbing the attention of spectators was the last thing an assassin would want. So why would anyone suspect him to be a killer hiding in plain sight? It was a perfect cover, really.

But something else truly bothered Noir as well: What was Diabolus's connection to the Academy's infiltrator? Was he hired? Or was he the one calling the shots? Or were they both hired by someone else? And if Remmy was indeed Diabolus, was it possible that Cinder, or Emerald, or Mercury were the Academy's infiltrators? Were they all on the same side? And if they were, who was the boss? Who was commanding them? For every question, dozens more rose. It was maddening to say the least, and Noir only felt more and more agitated the more he thought on it. This was far more important to him than the tournament, and far more of a priority. And yet the tournament subsisted, and Noir had to take his mind off his work and focus on the event at hand.

Noir breathed in through his nose, held his breath for a few seconds, and then exhaled through his mouth. Inhale, count to four, exhale, count to four, repeat. A simple breathing exercise that relaxed Noir's tensed muscles. He needed to be fully relaxed for this fight, for he felt this would be tough, possibly the toughest fight he'd had yet. He needed to be relaxed and calm. Fully clear of the mind. Nothing distracting him from this massively anticipated fight. Yet despite this effort to clear his mind, something, he couldn't tell what, was eating at him a little. A small nagging in the back of his mind that seemed to be stuck there in perpetuity in spite of his efforts to clear all thoughts.

It felt as though something long dormant was starting to wake up.

No... Noir thought to himself as a feeling of dread began to slowly well up in him.

Give into it...no matter how you hide it, you can never truly get rid of it.

No. This single word was starting to be echoed louder.

Who do you think you're fooling, Harceleur? These people know nothing about what you've seen, nothing about the brutal truth of the real world. Continuing to play the part of a civilized man won't change what you really are.

Shut up...I'm not hearing this... Noir shook his head violently trying to shake the thoughts from his mind, thoughts that were his own and yet weren't, as though his mind was fighting itself.

You are a survivor. You were molded by violence and death. All you know in life is fighting to stay alive. In the end, you are more animal than man.

Shut up...shut up...shut up...!

Just admit it, Harceleur, your anger drives you. Your rage and your savagery are why you continue to breathe. You can't deny it, you don't just want to win this fight, you want to tear that worm apart with your bare hands. He hurt people you care for and respect, he has no sense of restraint, he's a danger to everyone, you HAVE to kill him!

I can't, I won't, never!

Then everyone you care for will die, because you are too weak to accept what you are.

Don't...shut up...

A monster.

"NO!" Noir yelled this out loud, slamming his fist into the wall of lockers next to him. His breathing was rugged, sweat coating his body as though he'd already fought the upcoming match. For a long moment his body was tensed as though ready to snap in half, his red eyes wide as saucers. As he stood there, having risen from his seat in trying to shake the conflict in his mind, he slowly relaxed, his breathing slowing down and steadying.

After all this time... Noir sighed and seated himself again, one hand on the side of his head. It's still there.

It bothered Noir to his core to feel this side of him once again waking up. He couldn't comprehend why. Perhaps it was the pressure of the final, or perhaps the stress of recent events, or even the workload he put on himself all the time. All he knew for sure was that he couldn't let this buried part of him resurface.

Yang can't know. She wouldn't understand it...no matter how hard she'd try. Even as he thought this, Noir knew Yang would have to know eventually. He couldn't hide this from her forever, and yet he felt he had to.

The Vytal Festival Fanfare brought Noir back to reality. As the bombastic theme began, Noir inhaled deeply and stood once more. This was it. The conflict in his mind would have to wait for now.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Port's bombastic tone echoed through the stadium to roaring applause. The crowd was more ready for this than they had ever been, and hearing Port's voice booming voice over the PA could only mean one thing: It was time. "EVERYONE WATCHING AT HOME! WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR: THE VYTAL FESTIVAL TOURNAMENT FINAL!"

The colossal crowd erupted into a roar of excitement, the noise positively deafening. In Amity's lobby, more people were yelling in excitement watching the many viewscreens that were on the lobby pillars. Down in the city below, thousands of people crammed into restaurants, bars, buffets and other eateries were yelling and applauding, much to the annoyance of the people working at said venues. The excitement was too much, and everyone's energy filled the air.

In the stands of Amity Colosseum, Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang and Qrow all sat in a row together, with Ruby and Yang on either side of Qrow, Blake on Yang's left and Weiss on Ruby's right. In the row in front of them Pyrrha, Jaune, Ren, and Nora sat in that order with Coco, Fox, Velvet, and Yatsuhashi next to them in that order as well. Sun Wukong sat on Blake's left, Neptune Vasilias on Weiss's right. Several rows behind them, Cinder Fall sat in her Haven Student disguise with Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black on either side of her, her legs crossed and her hands folded.

In truth, Cinder very much did not want to be there. There were far too many people, for one, and she hardly cared for any of this to begin with anyway. But as Remnant had pointed out to her, it would look far too suspicious if she wasn't there, and so she was. Emerald in contrast was positively ecstatic, albeit trying to hide it with rather amusing results. She'd never failed to catch Noir's fights, whether in the Stadium or on her scroll, and leading up to this had been rewatching all of his fights in the tournament, under the pretense of conducting "further research" as to whether he was a good addition to their cause or not. Not that this excuse fooled anyone, as by this point it was clear that the "gathering more allies" story Erebos had fed them at the outset was utter falsehood, fabricated to keep Cinder and her cohorts out of his way. Regardless, Emerald was beyond excited to see Noir fight Remnant, and while she would be supporting the latter out loud, in her mind her true support was for the former.

As for Remnant, or rather, Rouge himself, he stood in the long hall outside the locker room that led to the Arena Floor, his twin swords on his back in addition to another weapon he had hidden under them. He was positively shaking with excitement. Despite all the confusion of the past several days and the revelation of his real name and the possibility his master was lying to him, he was genuinely excited for the fight to come. Noir Harceleur had proven to be a very interesting combatant to observe, pulling more and more stops with every battle just when it seemed he'd already pulled them all, throwing a proverbial curveball each time and gaining an advantage thereby. Rouge was eager to see what curveball Noir had in store this go round, and was ready for the best fight of his life.

Noir stood in a similar hallway on the opposite side of the Arena. He was uncharacteristically restless, shuffling and fidgeting every moment, his wings ruffling. Unlike his usual calm self, he couldn't get his muscles to fully relax, not after he'd felt a long suppressed side of his psyche re-emerge. Everything was feeling uncomfortable now. His overcoat had been too stifling, and now he was in the sleeveless version. Now more than anything it was his weapon Schwarze Klinge that was bothering him. It felt too heavy, too unbalanced, too cumbersome. Having it strapped to him was feeling restrictive. He couldn't figure out why it felt like this, as it had never bothered him before, but now it was too much for him to handle mentally. It felt foreign, like something that didn't belong. As Noir closed his hand around the hilt, it no longer felt like a part of his hand despite having been forged and molded to the exact shape of said hand. Before he could think on it further, Oobleck's voice on the PA spoke.

"Over the past several days, you have all witnessed the prowess and skill of our many students, both familiar and foreign, here in Amity Colosseum, and today, we decide who among them is truly the best! For this battle will face off our top contenders of the tournament to date!" The crowd roared once more, and one word stood out to Noir: familiar. That was it. He would need something far more familiar to him to get through this fight, but it was already about to begin. Before he could finish this though, Port's voice once again rang out.

"Hailing from places unknown, a student of our very own Beacon Academy, the Final Shard of Crimson, and the Representative of the Kingdom Of Vale, Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...NOIR HARCELEUR!" The crowd went utterly ballistic at the announcement of the fan favorite, and Noir took a deep breath as he walked down the long hall. He knew what he had to do.

As he stepped into the light the crowd's roar doubled, his face now festooned across multiple jumbotrons, along with millions of t.v. screens and scroll displays across the world. Noir stood at the very edge of the arena, looking around at the crowd. He then began unbuckling his sword belt, unwilling to have the stifling weapon on him any longer. The crowd went from ecstatic to confused as Noir yanked at the black leather belt around his waist, removing it and holding the weapon by its sheathe.

"What's he doing...?" Yang wondered aloud as she stared in confusion at Noir, directly across the arena from where she was sitting. Cinder Fall, sitting several rows behind her, mirrored Yang's confusion as she raised an eyebrow.

Why is he removing his weapon? For a first impression, this was certainly not what Cinder had expected. To that point, she'd never seen the faunus in person, only heard Emerald's accounts or Rouge's reports. Seeing this was certainly not something typical of a warrior.

Noir, having removed the black falchion from his waist, tossed the weapon aside,eliciting confused murmurs in the crowd. Unfazed, Noir took out his scroll and typed in 4 numbers. For a long moment nothing happened, and then a black dot appeared in the sky, traveling wickedly fast. Object went straight towards Noir at blistering speed, the crowd clamoring in confusion as the object came careening out of the sky, landing a yard's remove from where Noir stood with a loud BANG!

Yang's eyes widened in recognition. "Is that...?"

"That's his locker!" Coco answered in the row in front of Yang. "Why did he...?"

Noir walked over to the rocket propelled locker and dialed in the unlock code. The door swung open, revealed a long bundle wrapped in black cloth. Noir took hold of the bundle, untying a knot of black twine, and unwrapped the black cloth from around the object inside, tossing away the cover and revealing its contents. Coco's eyes widened in recognition from behind her shades. "That's...!"

Noir was holding a long black sheathe, long with a slight curve, and the weapon sheathed in it had a black hilt wrapped in what appeared to be deep red lanyard. Noir held the weapon by the sheathe in his left hand, his right firmly grasping the hilt and slowly drawing the blade in all its glory. A vivid red katana slowly was drawn from the black sheath, a red that looked like blood, the sheen undiminished after not being used for so long, and the red blade's edge as sharp as the day it was forged. The shade of red was like blood, the kind of shade that stood out in stark contrast to Noir's black clothing.

Blood Edge. How I've missed thee. Noir drew the blade completely, admiring the red blade for a moment before holding it with the blade pointed skyward, silently displaying his weapon to the world. The crowd erupted into an excited roar as the red blade reflected the sun's light, and Yang's jaw dropped as she beheld the blade.

Whoa...how long has he had that thing?! Yang stared as Noir sheathed the red blade. He didn't bother putting the katana on his waist and continued to hold it in his left hand, resuming his walk into the arena and striding onto the center ring. The crowd was simply ecstatic. This was what they wanted to see. No one had expected Noir to change his weapon like that, much less show it off in such a blatantly showman-like manner.

"Well now! I think we can all say we weren't expecting this!" Port declared, the crowd roaring in agreement. Noir stood now in the center ring, Blood Edge gripped in his left hand as a feeling of newfound freedom washed over him, mixed with a feeling of familiarity and comfort that he hadn't been feeling with Schwarze Klinge. He inhaled slowly and breathed a sigh. He was finally ready.

"And now for his opponent, ladies and gentlemen, a young man whose origins are as mysterious as Mr. Harceleur's, a fighter with more raw energy than an electrical generator and twice as electrifying in action, the Champion of Haven and the Representative of Mistral, Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up forrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr REMMY!" Oobleck rapid-fired the introduction for Noir's opponent as the crowd roared in approval, and Rouge came running out of the hallway opposite Noir's, whooping and waving to the crowd in excitement and even gesturing for them to cheer louder, a favor the crowd eagerly returned and then some. Rouge bowed several times dramatically for comedic flare, flashing a wink in Ruby's general direction as the latter giggled and cheered along with everyone else.

Up in the tower high above Vale, Ozpin sat back at his desk observing the two young men's entrances, finding it very interesting indeed that Noir was opting for his old weapon, one he hadn't used in over a year. This is certainly shaping up to be interesting, no doubt about it.

After taking one last bow to the crowd, Rouge turned to Noir fully, who was regarding his opponent with an expression uncharacteristic of the bat. He no longer had that calm, collected look he was known for, but in fact looked very openly hostile. Whatever he was thinking, Rouge could see in his expression that he wasn't there to mince words. He was there for one reason and one reason a lone: to fight. All the same, had to keep up the act.

"Hehe, well well then, batman, already stealin' the limelight with a new weapon, eh? And no belt on this one, you sure ya balance is still alright? I mean, I'm all for switchin' it up and shit, but one wrong move and it's all like, FUCK! This ain't workin'! gotta go back the old- aw fuck, too late, guess I'll just-" Rouge's long spiel was interrupted.

"Spare me the headache and shut it." Noir growled, glaring burning daggers into Rouge with the kind of gaze that'd make even older Grimm run in fear. "I'm not here to talk."

"Weeeeeeeell, shit. And here I was lookin' to liven the mood. Alright then, Edgelord, you wanna get serious? Then let's get serious." Rouge drew his twin blades and flourished them, taking a low crouched stance like he was ready to charge. Noir simply stood still, staring Rouge down with his senses going into overdrive. He was more ready now than he'd ever been in his life, and a new feeling of looseness was welling up in him, a sense of having had every restriction removed. But he knew this wasn't a very good feeling either.

Not even with him. I can't let loose fully. However much he may deserve it.

"Alright, gentlemen! You know the rules! The first one whose aura drops to the red or is rung out loses the match!" Oobleck's voice rang in their ears as the center ring slowly rose from the arena floor, hovering some 8 feet above it. The crowd went silent as the two combatants stared each other down. This was it.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

For a split second, Remmy saw a red glimmer in Noir's eye.

"BEGIN!"

Rouge let out a raw-throated yell as he charged forward, his two blades swinging in unison as he went for a horizontal slash with both blades. Noir, seeing the blades coming, almost casually raised Blood Edge's sheath and blocked both blades with it, both of them glancing off with a loud clang. Not wasting a second, Noir then grabbed Blood Edge's hilt and drew it at lightning speed, aiming a slash of his own at Rouge's torso. With a yelp, Rouge used the momentum of the glance-off to somersault back, barely managing to avoid the slash from Blood Edge. Noir wasn't done however, and just as Rouge was recovering, Noir was already on the offensive, one flap from his wings sending him bolting forward. Rouge barely managed to block the oncoming blow, only to receive a powerful left cross to the face from Blood Edge's sheathe, knocking him slightly off balance. Rouge growled and instead of using the momentum of his stagger, slammed his back foot down and this time parried the next slash from Blood Edge, landing a blow of his own in Noir's gut with the hilt of one of his swords. Noir staggered back only for a second, his wings spreading and steadying him fast enough to block the next blow from Rouge, a downward slash that Noir blocked with Blood Edge's sheathe. Realizing he was wide open, Rouge rolled to the side as Noir answered with a downward slash of his own. Rouge, seeing the opening, dashed in for a blow to the side, only to once again be blocked by Blood Edge's sheathe. Noir viciously slammed his left shoulder into Rouge, using the difference in height to hit Rouge right in the face.

The battle had only been going for less than a minute and Rouge was getting irritated now. He hadn't been expecting this combat style from Noir, this seamless blending of offense and defense that he swapped between like it was nothing. Noir had always been a more tactically minded combatant, letting his opponent wail at him until he spotted an opening. This more aggressive style wasn't anything like Rouge had expected, and it was irritating him, how effective it was. He had to switch things up quickly if he was going to make any headway in this battle.

Rouge slammed his twin swords together, forming the buster blade that he'd used against Team CFVY, holding it in his left hand like it was weightless, and charged, swinging the massive blade around in a horizontal slash that would bisect a beowolf in one swing. Noir jumped over the swing and with one flap of his wings flew straight at Rouge with a vicious kick that he only barely managed to block. Not wasting a second, Noir pushed off the flat of the buster's blade, landing on his feet a few yards away and sheathing Blood Edge, and yet keeping his hand on the hilt. Rouge had only a split second's reprieve before a single flap of Noir's wings turned him into a black blur, going straight at Rouge faster than he'd ever seen him move. Rouge rolled out of the way, but was knocked on his back as Noir drew Blood Edge in an aura-enhanced rapid slash that combined 3 slashes in the span of one. Rouge growled as he leaped back his feet, more aggravated than ever.

The tension in the crowd was unreal, everyone on the edge of their seats, and even the commentators were having trouble keeping up fully with the fight unfolding in the arena below. Yang's jaw hit the floor upon seeing the rapid slash, having never seen Noir execute a move like that in her life. For that matter, she'd never seen him fight like this, period. This massively aggressive fight style wasn't like him, and the fact that he'd switched up his style at the literal last minute and was still managing to not only hold Remmy off but actually put him on the defensive had Yang thinking at mach speed. He'd never fought her like that, or Pyrrha, or even Arthur and Chalaign. He'd just fought like he normally did, favoring tactics and improvisational defense over offense. And yet here he was taking every opportunity, however small, to strike at Remmy. As she thought this, a thought came to mind that, all on its own, took her from confused to angry.

Did he hold back on me?

In the arena below, Rouge finally had enough.

"Alright, fucker, I see how it is. You wanna switch shit up? Fine." Rouge threw his massive buster sword off the the center ring, unbuckling his jacket and flinging it off. He then undid two straps across his chest and revealed a third weapon he'd concealed on his back, a black sheathe with a firing apparatus and a sword sheathed in it. Blake, in the stands above, felt her heart almost leap out of her as she stared in horror at the weapon Rouge was holding, a weapon she hadn't seen in many months, and yet she'd recognize it anywhere.

Wilt and Blush.

Rouge growled and drew his own red and black blade in his left hand, keeping the sheathe in his right hand in a stance that almost mirrored Noir's. Noir raised an eyebrow at this change in weaponry but didn't flinch, wasting no time getting back on the offensive. Rouge blocked Noir's blow immediately, aiming Blush's firing barrel right at Noir's face. Noir spun to the right, Blood Edge scraping against Wilt with a shower of sparks as Rouge fired, before dropping to the ground and executing an impossibly low sweep kick that knocked Rouge off balance. Undeterred, Rouge executed a backflip and landed perfectly on his feet, and a vicious duel of blades began. Noir rained blow after blow on Rouge from every angle, whilst blocking Rouge's own and avoiding Blush's gunshots with ease. Rouge, undeterred, was raining every possible blow of his own he could get in, barely managing to block Noir's side blows with Blood Edge's sheathe. The blades were a blur of motion, the two combatants not allowing either to get any blow in.

Both their aura levels were slowly but surely chipping away. Cinder watched with wide-eyed awe, the bat faunus proving to be far more than she'd expected. Just watching him fight Rouge told her that this young faunus was on a completely different level from the other students at Beacon. But something told her he wasn't putting his everything into it. She'd spotted several moments where Noir probably could have ended the fight right then and there, and if his expert improvisation was anything to go by, he'd seen those opportunities as well. And yet he hadn't taken them, which confused Cinder for a fact as Noir was taking literally every other opportunity to strike at Rouge.

Why would he not take the most obvious chances to end this match? Is he intentionally drawing this out?

Noir and Rouge were at a stalemate, neither of them gaining any ground, and yet neither were they giving it. Finally, a synchronized sheathe punch from both combatants knocked them both several yards back. Noir dug his feet in, his breathing starting to get more sporadic as sweat poured down his brow. He'd never fought someone his age with this kind of skill level, much less that kind of trained eye for detecting an opening. Everything about this fight was confirming Noir's suspicions that "Remmy" was in fact Diabolus, as only a fighter with intensive and extensive combat training could fight on this level. No one else in the tournament had given him this much of a challenge, not even Arthur.

Stop restraining yourself. Kill him!

NO! Not even him!

Noir growled, forcing the conflict in his mind aside, and then sheathed Blood Edge, reaching in his belt pouch and taking out a burn dust vial. Ashes began to emit from him like they had in his fight with Pyrrha, and he popped the burn dust cork and showered it all over him, flames mixing with those ashes. With a roar he charged forward, and just as Rouge prepared to block, Noir split into a double helix of burning fire, forming a sideways flaming vortex that threatened to cook Rouge alive.

"SHIT!" Rouge dove out the way, the heat from the fire more intense than any he'd felt, and as Noir reformed from the burning ashes, Rouge pushed himself up, taking a moment to glance at the aura monitors. Both his and Noir's auras were at threateningly low levels. A single strong blow would send both of them into the red. Noir similarly paused as this realization came to him as well, and his gaze narrowed. He and Rouge were on opposite sides of the center ring now, and they began to circle one another, regarding each other with piercing gazes that almost mirrored each other. Noir's fierce gaze was almost bestial, a kind of wild animal-like glare that looked almost wolf-like, even with his bat features. His red eyes were narrowed into slits, meeting Rouge's green eyes as the two combatants stared each other down.

The crowd was hushed now. Everyone knew the big moment was here. The next attack would determine who won and who lost. It all came down to this one moment, and even the crowds outside the Colosseum were hushed as they braced for the big moment of truth.

The combatants stopped circling one another. Noir's wings spread as he once more gripped Blood Edge's hilt, and Rouge prepared himself similarly, his glare narrowed to mirror Noir's. Wilt was held at his side, ready for the plunge, and Noir inhaled slowly and exhaled as he prepared to lunge forward.

With a synchronized yell, the combatants charged. Noir flapped his wings once and went flying forward, ready to draw Blood Edge in a split second. Rouge leaped forward with more force than he'd ever put into such a jump, Wilt pointed directly at his opponent. Time slowed to a crawl for the two fighters, their eyes meeting as they drew ever closer. Noir began to draw Blood Edge in what was going to be a massive Rapid Slash, the blade's red sheen catching Rouge's attention for a split second. The two blades were centimeters from each other...

KRANGGGG!

A loud crash was heard as the blades collided full force, and the combined force of each fighters' charge sent them both flying back in the directions they'd come from, both of them landing flat on their backs. A deep silence fell over the crowd as every eye in the arena turned to the aura bars on the Jumbo Tron. Both fighters were in the red. But that wasn't all.

Remmy - 10% Aura.

Noir - 10% Aura.

The fight was a draw.

The crowd was dead silent for a long, tense moment. No one knew how to react, no one knew what to do. The Vytal Final was a draw. Neither opponent had more aura than the other yet they were both well into the red. This had never happened in the history of the tournament, not even once.

The silence was broken as Nora began cheering wildly, and soon the entire Colosseum erupted into a cacophonous chorus of ecstatic cheering, drowning out all other sound.

"IT'S A DRAW! Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing history in the making as for the first time in the history of the Vytal Festival Tournament, the final has ended in a draw! Give it up for our combatants, everyone!" Port enthusiastically declared as mountains of confetti erupted into the air. Noir and Rouge pulled themselves to their feet, the center ring still in the air as they approached one another. For a moment they simply stood regarding one another, and then, Rouge offered his right hand to shake. Noir for a moment simply stared at him before grasping Rouge's hand and shaking it. Rouge, using the noise as cover, spoke so only Noir would hear him.

"Well, then. I can honestly say this wasn't anything like I was expecting. Nicely done there, batma-" he was cut off.

"Save it." Noir growled at him. "Enjoy this spotlight while it lasts, but don't think you're free. You have all these people fooled, but not me." Noir's eyes narrowed into an intense glare like he was x-raying Rouge. "I know exactly who you are."

"How can you?" Rouge retorted, his humor taking a morbid edge. "Even I don't know who I am. But even so, I have to wonder just who the hell you are. Fighting like that, I have to wonder, did you come to Beacon cos you wanted to, or did you run away from your family? Or did they just get rid of you?"

Noir's anger welled up to boiling point as he heard Rouge's words, but just as he was about to reply, he glanced at the crowd and froze. The entire world slowed to a crawl as Noir's red eyes met a pair of matching red ones, framed by snow-white locks. For a second that felt like several days, Noir stared at those red eyes. Recognition was welling up in his mind. And yet it couldn't be.

No...that's not him...

Could it be though?

It CAN'T be...I held his body...that CAN'T be him!

As time returned to normal, the Center Ring began to lower. Noir, reacting instinctively, dissolved into ashes and flew down into the crevice below, reforming deep inside the Arena's inner workings, where the combat terrains were kept, his night vision kicking in as the center ring lowered completely, shrouding him in pitch black. He began to run, using his echolocation to figure out his path to the exit. All the while his mind raced. Horrified. Dumbstruck. And in denial.

He's not alive...he's not alive...he can't be...there's no way...that couldn't have been him...

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

In the Colosseum, confusion swept through the crowd as Noir disappeared. It happened so fast that no one saw where he went, not even Rouge. Everyone was looking around with increasing concern. Noir had disappeared completely from view, and not a single person had seen where he'd gone.

Yang sat in the stands, her mind numb from what she'd seen as her own thoughts raced. It was so much to take in, so much to process, and the more she thought on it the more angry she felt. Noir had, in fact, held back on her. There was no doubt about that now. Despite his promise to put everything he had against her, he'd intentionally not done so. And now he had a different weapon, was far faster than she'd thought, had a whole different fight style, and now he had just disappeared. Yang's mind was jumbled, confused and completely uncomprehending of what had happened. Yang immediately took out her scroll and dialed in Noir's number. It rang for a full minute, and then went to voice mail. Yang frowned. Noir was never one to ignore a call from her. Determined to figure out what was going on, Yang pulled up a number-tracking app called "Find Your Scroll" and entered Noir's number. For a long moment the app processed then switched to a satellite-imaged map. Noir was moving fast, already way farther away from the Colosseum than she'd thought he'd be. Yang stood up and without a word to anyone immediately began heading for the airship hangar.

You have a lot of explaining to do when I find you, Noir. Yang felt her fists clenching. She needed answers, and wasn't going to let Noir off easy this time.

Several rows back, Cinder sat back in her seat, processing what she'd seen. Noir was beyond anything she'd ever seen before, and this was a tall statement indeed. He'd been a perfect match against Rouge, so good a match that the ultimate result was a draw. Yet the more she re-ran the fight in her mind, the more convinced she was that Noir hadn't just held back, he'd held back a lot. He'd moved too fast, his reflexes were too refined, and as that final blow had shown, was far from weak. He could have ended that fight way sooner had he wanted to. So why hadn't he? Was he making a point? Was he trying to restrain himself? Was he afraid? All this and more burned in Cinder's mind.

That's certainly a hell of a first impression...no wonder Emerald thought of him as a potential ally... Cinder's thoughts were interrupted as her scroll vibrated. Taking it out, she saw a message from Rouge.

"That Noir guy is not who he appears to be. We need more intel on him immediately. Use that virus you put in the CCT to track his scroll. Follow him and see what you can find."

Cinder sighed and closed her scroll. Back to business, it seemed. Always the errand girl for Daddy's Pet Reaper. And yet Cinder herself was intrigued. This was a chance to find out more and satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps this could be a chance to see just what it was that truly intrigued Emerald so much about him.

Who are you, Noir Harceleur? What is it you're hiding?

x-x-x

Elsewhere in the stands, a young puma faunus sat back in his seat, himself shaken by the events of the final. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at the sky, unable to comprehend what he'd witnessed.

What happened to you, Noir...

A gentle hand touched his own. He looked to his right, the silver-haired cat faunus next to him holding up her scroll and showing the same satellite map that Yang had seen on her scroll. It was tracking Yang's scroll.

He understood immediately. If they followed Yang, they'd find Noir. Without a word the both of them stood up and started moving.

Little brother...what have you become?