On the Other Side.
Part I: Pyrrha.
Pyrrha wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear upon arriving in the afterlife. A choir of angels accompanied by harp music, perhaps? Something more modern, maybe? Did they have dubstep in Heaven, or Elysium, or wherever she was? What she wasn't expecting to hear, though, was the ocean. The gentle rushing of the tide and powerful crush of breaking waves. The call of seabirds and the dinging bell of a distant buoy. She even heard a long, loud bass note that she suspected was the foghorn of a lighthouse. Her feet were bare and felt damp, as if they were being tickled by the surf, and she felt like she were lying facedown in something fine and gritty…sand? The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she was on some kind of beach. It felt like she was wearing clothes…but she noted with just a bit of panic that she had no armor on. Even worse, she was unarmed! Hopefully she wouldn't have to fight any demons or anything like that.
Pyrrha opened her eyes, and saw that she was indeed lying on a beach with soft white sand. Her head was turned so that one of her cheeks was kissing the sand and the other was being kissed by the wind. While she was thinking of kisses, she remembered the pleasant heat on her lips from her farewell kiss to Jaune. She already missed him, and she closed her eyes again and silently prayed–maybe you got better reception on this side?–that he would be alright. Then she opened her eyes again and started getting up to her feet. It was surprisingly easy, considering how crummy she had felt just before the end. In fact, she felt as light as a feather. She tilted her head back and observed that the sky was slightly overcast; the cloud cover wasn't dark enough to threaten rain, but just enough to soften the glare of the Sun, which appeared to be directly overhead. Pyrrha then looked down, and her eyes widened. She was wearing an adult-sized version of the most comfortable pajamas she had ever worn, which she had outgrown years ago. She turned and looked around, but her armor and her trusty shield and weapon were nowhere to be found. She did, however, spot a lone fisherman standing in the water out a ways. He had a long, pale white fishing pole in his hands, and the tilt of his head suggested he was looking at a point somewhere just a little bit under the horizon.
Pyrrha opened her mouth, but stopped. She figured it would be rude to shout to him; it would scare away the fish, wouldn't it? Then again, she felt a bit irked; he was the only other person around, which either meant that her guide to the afterlife was late, or he was it and he was fishing on the job. Not that Pyrrha expected anyone to hold her hand, or anything, but this was her first time dying. She had no clue what to do, and there was no helpful little voice in her head giving her suggestions, so she assumed she was supposed to have some kind of guide. Pyrrha looked down at the surf lapping at her feet, and realized abruptly that while she could feel the water, she wasn't actually getting wet. She stepped out into the sea until she was in up to her ankles, and then backed out. Her feet, and the ankles of her pajama pants, were perfectly dry. She stepped back into the surf and waded out until she stood abreast of the fisherman. At this distance she could see that he had pale skin and little skull earrings. She was certain he was aware of her presence, as close as she was, so she unabashedly tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but could you tell me where I am?"
"I could," said the fisherman in a silky-smooth and feather-soft voice, "But I don't see why I need to. You know where you are, and I know that you know where you are, so don't try playing dumb."
Pyrrha frowned. "Okay…so, are you supposed to be my guide, or are you another…um…spirit?"
"Are you asking if I'm a spirit, of if spirit is the right word to use?" the fisherman asked wanly. Before she could reply, he sighed and said, "Come now, Pyrrha Nikos. Uncertainty does not become you. I would expect anyone who came to me as you did to take the next step with a bit more confidence. Here, hold this for me. Firmly," he said, pressing his fishing pole into her hands. Pyrrha gripped the pole, which she was surprised to realize was made of bone, without really thinking about it, and as soon as she did she felt a tremendous weight pulling at her. She buckled forward and strained to pull herself back without dislocating her shoulders or losing the pole. It took every ounce of her strength just to stand up straight, and she couldn't keep her arms from shaking with the strain. Next to her, the fisherman bent down and pulled a bottle of water out of a tackle box floating next to him. He uncapped it and tipped it bottom-up, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he took what seemed to Pyrrha like an unnecessarily long drink. Then he capped the bottle, put it away, and took the pole back from Pyrrha. He held it casually with one hand while using the other to take off his hat and scratch at his head; his hair was short, downy, and snow-white. Pyrrha's arms would do nothing but hang limply at her sides and quiver like gelatin. He might have been a bit on the curt side, but Pyrrha couldn't help but respect the fisherman's profound strength.
"Wha…what's on the other end of that line?" she asked, gasping, "A whale?"
The fisherman shook his head. "A soul. A very heavy soul. Heavy with sin and shame; heavy with will, too. Very strong will to live, this one. One of the heaviest souls I've had to reel-in in…oh, a fair while I'd say. He's putting up a heck of a fight, too. I've been trying to reel him in since before you died."
"Who–"
"No one you knew, Pyrrha Nikos, and no one you'd be sad to see dead if you did know him," replied the fisherman. "There is, however, someone waiting for you over at the lighthouse."
"My guide?" asked Pyrrha.
The fisherman sighed. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Pyrrha Nikos? You don't have a guide. You don't need a guide. Guides are for souls like the one I'm trying to reel in right now. Souls who weren't ready to die. You came to me gracefully. You had already accepted your mortality before the end, so you don't need any guidance here."
"Oh…I see. But then–"
(The fisherman sighed again)
"–what am I supposed to do?" asked Pyrrha almost desperately. "I…I don't…my path has always been laid out for me. When I was a little girl I wanted to learn how to fight, so I did. I wanted to grow stronger, so I went to Sanctum. I wanted to become the very best Huntress I could possibly be, so I enrolled in Beacon. Now I'm here, but I don't know anything about 'here'. What am I supposed to do?"
"Alright, alright," said the fisherman, shaking his head and smiling sheepishly, "The manner in which you faced your death rather impressed me, so I was convinced you were wiser than this. I forgot to consider your age…someone as young as you shouldn't be expected to know what comes next. Very well. You have three choices." He once again shifted to a one-handed grip and put up one finger on his free hand. "One, you could stick around here for a while, as most souls do when they first arrive, and relax. Enjoy the cessation of your mortal woes. Maybe explore the beach, or the forest," he pointed back towards the shore; Pyrrha followed his finger and saw that there was, indeed, a dense-looking forest just beyond the beach, "Or what's beyond the forest. A lot of souls stay here because it seems like where they came from, they think they can pretend they haven't really died, just gone Elsewhere. That's why they don't hang around here much; I make them uncomfortable. If you think there's someone here waiting to meet you, you'll probably find them at the lighthouse. That seems to be a popular gathering spot for souls, for some reason. And as I said, there is someone waiting for you there."
"And suppose I don't want to stay? Suppose I'm ready to 'move on'. What are my other two choices?" asked Pyrrha.
The fisherman put up another finger and continued, "Depends on which way you want to go. Onwards, or Backwards? If you want to move on, head down the beach that-a-way," he pointed, "until you find the pier. Wait until sunset and my sister will show up with her ferry to take you Onwards. Time and space here aren't what you're used to, so I can't tell you how long you'll have to walk or how long you'll wait when you get there, but if you really want to see 'What's Next', that's the way to go." He put up one more finger, "If you'd rather stay and try to play another hand, as it were, I could always send you back."
For a half a second, Pyrrha dared to hope. "You…could you really? Send me back, I mean?"
The fisherman sighed again, but this time he sighed sadly rather than exasperatedly. "I'm sorry, Pyrrha Nikos; I worded myself poorly. I can send you back to the Material, but not as who you were. You'll be reborn as someone else. New identity, new memories, so on and yadda-yadda. Do they know about reincarnation on…what world were you from again? Vytal?"
Pyrrha frowned. "No…Vytal is an island. The world is called Remnant. How do you not–"
"Life has sprung up on thousands of worlds, in thousands of universes; sometimes I have a hard time keeping track of them all," explained the fisherman. "Speaking of which, it's not even certain you'll go back to Remnant. You probably will, but theoretically you could wind up on any life-baring world."
"I see," said Pyrrha, who was surprised at how uninterested she found herself to hear that there was life beyond Remnant.
In spite of herself and her determination to face death with dignity, she had gotten her hope up for just a moment, and now the reminder that there was no going back to the only world she knew just…weighed her down. Almost worse than the soul on the other end of the fishing pole had. She missed Jaune. And Ren, and Nora, and the rest of her classmates. It seemed that she had just started getting to know them. She had just started making real progress with Jaune. She had finally kissed him! But only once…seventeen years, and she had only kissed a boy once. She hadn't even used her tongue! Which, admittedly, she would have been way too embarrassed to do right then, but in hindsight it seemed like such a missed opportunity. And not the only one, either. Heading to safety with Jaune and living to kiss him more than once seemed like a much better idea now. She wished she had given Ozpin an answer sooner; if she'd said yes sooner, she would have already had Amber's Aura and power when that woman had sprung her trap; if she'd said no, Ozpin might have had time to find another, more willing candidate. Nora probably would have jumped at the chance for magical powers and wouldn't have sweated deep existential questions, like 'what'll having someone else's Aura in me do to my sense of self?' Pyrrha kept wandering down this train of thought, going over all the things she should have done instead of running back to her death, or at least things she should have done before she had died. She was only seventeen, and looking back she realized that she had hardly done anything other than train to become a Huntress (which she had died before accomplishing) and making a few friends at what felt like the last minute. Pyrrha had always been proud and confident in her choices…but as bitter tears of regret and disappointment slid down her cheeks, she realized what a huge and wasteful mistake she had made. Why had she pushed herself so much? She could have aimed to be a more average Huntress and had more time to live her life for herself. Maybe then she'd have more happy memories to look back on now that she was on the other side. Or at least she could have listened to Jaune and lived to fight another day. Lived to live, period. Maybe then she'd still be alive, having a much more comprehensive and fulfilling first kiss/make-out session with Jaune right now. She'd be with her friends, mourning the fallen and making plans to avenge them instead of making her friends mourn her and make plans to avenge her. She should have chosen to retreat, to live to fight another day, so she could train more, to realize her full potential and pose a more serious threat to the enemy. Oum, she had screwed up so badly! Why had she been so stu–
"Oh stop it!" snapped the fisherman, smacking her upside the back of her head and almost sending her flailing into the water. "Just stop your damn wallowing! I told you, Pyrrha Nikos, uncertainty does not become you. Neither does self-loathing, or second-guessing yourself. You're stronger than that. I shouldn't have to tell you things you already know, but apparently you're going to make me, so listen well," he said sternly.
Pyrrha glared at him through angry, puffy, moist eyes for a moment, but then she nodded.
"Alright. First of all, there's nothing to gain from getting down on yourself for making poor choices. What's done is done and you can't change it, so stop beating yourself up. It's embarrassing; way more embarrassing than only kissing a boy once in your life. What a silly thing to fret over…but then, humans do seem inordinately preoccupied with kissing," he admitted thoughtfully. "But in any case, I can assure you that the way you handled your choice was about as good as could be expected. True, agreeing to the process might have improved things…but you have no way of knowing that for sure. Neither do I, because what your people attempted is, in fact, unprecedented. The procedure could have catastrophically backfired even without Cinder Fall's intervention. And even if they had found another candidate, that would not likely have improved the situation either because they came to you first for a reason; they felt you were the best option. And no one can fault you for how you deliberated over your choice. Having your soul contaminated by another is a very valid thing to be worried about. Such a thing happens rarely in any world, but I can tell you that it rarely ends well. You were only human, and therefore very flawed even on your best day; no one, not even you, could have reasonably expected you to do any better, or any differently, than you did. And do you really think Nora Valkyrie would have made a better Fall Maiden than you? Do you really think that girl, who admittedly has her heart in the right place, would have handled such awesome power responsibly? Or that she would have decided so easily? She hasn't even yet worked up the courage to tell Lie Ren how she really feels about him…but that's neither here nor there. And there was nothing foolish or wasteful about what you did, confronting Cinder Fall. After all, you weren't entirely yourself when you made that choice."
"I wasn't?" asked a surprised Pyrrha.
"Well of course not…did you not notice?" asked the fisherman, sounding annoyed again, "Look back, Pyrrha Nikos; under normal circumstances, does engaging an overwhelmingly obviously superior opponent with powers you didn't fully understand, all on your own, sound like something you would do? Does that even sound like something you would usually give any serious consideration whatsoever? You are a courageous and amazingly selfless person, Pyrrha Nikos. But you are neither a fool, nor given to suicidal overconfidence. Can you really believe that you were in your own right mind when you did that?"
"Well…no, now that you mention it," said Pyrrha thoughtfully, "But then–"
"Oh my Boss," snapped the fisherman, "Look, I'm sorry, I really don't mean to be short with you, but I'd really like to pull this jackass in today, so just go to the lighthouse. She can explain this to you better than me, anyways. Okay?"
"Oh. Sorry," said Pyrrha sheepishly, "I'll do that then." She looked around and spotted the lighthouse, and she started heading towards it.
"Oh, hey!" the fisherman cried out, "I almost forgot; this washed up just before you got here. You're not likely to need it here, but I figured you'd want it back anyways." Pyrrha turned around, and the fisherman pulled something out of his box and tossed it to her. Her eyes widened as she recognized it, spinning end over end through the air, and she leaped up to catch it.
"But…but how? How did it–"
"What, you think only breathing things have souls?" asked the fisherman with a wry grin, "Tsk, tsk. Not very open-minded of you, Pyrrha Nikos. You might make it think it was wrong to show its master such loyalty."
Running her fingers over Miló's unblemished form, more perfect than she could ever remember it being, she had to choke back tears of gratitude. "B-but…what about 'you can't take it with you'?"
"Well firstly, that refers to material wealth. Secondly, you didn't take it anywhere; it chose to follow you, rather than become something else. Only the most devoted weapons with the most dedicated masters do that, generally. Thirdly, where exactly did you hear that? I doubt it was from someone who actually remembered being here, right?"
"Right," agreed Pyrrha with a nod. She looked down and noticed she was wearing a belt with a scabbard that she didn't remember being there before. She sheathed Miló and started towards the lighthouse again, but–
"Wait! One more thing, I almost forgot. I'm expecting a new arrival before long that you probably won't want to miss, so wait for her at the lighthouse and I'll send her your way, okay?" asked the fisherman in a way that didn't sound much like a question.
"What?! Who?" asked Pyrrha, fear tearing at her heart again. 'Please, not Nora, or Ruby, or–'
"Your friends are fine…well, they're not on their way here, at least. 'Fine' might be overselling it. But don't worry so much, just get going. The one waiting for you has something very important to say. Remember, everyone finds their way here eventually," said the fisherman, having already turned back towards the horizon.
"Alright then…thank you!" Pyrrha called back with a friendly wave as she turned and continued on towards the lighthouse.
A/N: When I started this, it was going to be a oneshot. But about halfway through, Inspiration struck me like a frying pan to the back of the head! Only, less painful. Slightly. So anyways, I anticipate this will be a…four-parter. Yeah, that sounds about right. After all, Pyrrha was not the Battle of Beacon's only tragic loss.
Side note, does anyone think I made Pyrrha too...mopey? I don't know if that's the right word, but its the best I can come up with. I wouldn't have written her angsting this hard before all the Maiden drama because I really didn't think that would jive with Pyrrha's vibrant character, but I think episode 308, "Destiny", showed us all that yes, Pyrrha can angst as hard as any other teenagers when its appropriate. Still, I'd like some feedback on the subject.
So until next week, readers. Same RWBY time, same RWBY channel. Stay grand, everyone.
