"What'd you just say?" Yang's voice is low and deadly. She can barely hear herself over the bustling of Signal's cafeteria, but she can tell from the way Russel's eyes flash that he's heard her.
Russel is an asshole, and it isn't the first time he's decided to make a nuisance of himself to her.
She'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, tormented as she normally is, by nightmares. She'd sat at this particular table on purpose, away from her friends and in a quiet area because she just wanted to eat her lunch in peace...
"I said, 'at least I have parents'. You think anyone buys that the red-head and the blonde who came to parent visitation day are actually your folks?" Russel says, his dark eyes full of malice.
Yang's chest is tight with fury. Her eyes burn with unshed tears and her fingernails dig into her palm. It's not the first time that someone has commented on Jaune and Pyrrha's appearance being dissimilar to her and Ruby. But it is the first time that someone has deliberately attempted to use it to hurt her.
The image of her mother being killed by Salem has been burned into her brain for the last five years, haunting her nightmares on the rare occasion that she's actually able to sleep. She's sworn that she'll never let herself be that helpless again.
Yang is two years too young to be able to go to Beacon, but she's been learning how to fight from Pyrrha—the woman has, at least from what Yang's been able to gather, a very advanced knowledge of most fighting styles. She obviously prefers the more unorthodox method that she uses, but she's a capable teacher.
Yang takes a slow breath, doing her level best to keep her temper under control. Her chest aches, both with grief and with the effort of keeping her rage from going supercritical.
"Cat got your tongue?" Russel sneers. "Can't even stand up for yourself? Geez, you're pathetic. No wonder your folks abandoned you, probably too ashamed to be associated with you."
Yang goes nuclear.
"Shut up!" She roars. Her entire body feels hot all over, as if she's literally been set ablaze, though the sensation isn't painful.
It's overwhelming.
It's all-consuming.
It's...intoxicating.
Russel's eyes widen in fear, and Yang smiles in response.
Good. He should be afraid of me.
Yang is across the table in an eyeblink, her fist crashing into Russel's face with the force of a meteor impact. Blood and teeth fly from is mouth, and Yang can feel his jaw shatter under the force of her blow.
Russel whimpers, though whatever he's trying to say comes out as gibberish as his broken jaw hangs open uselessly.
"What's wrong?" Yang sneers. "Cat got your tongue?"
Russel scrambles to his feet and holds out his hands in an 'I-surrender' gesture obviously terrified.
The enraged blonde is too deep in the thrall of her fury to give quarter. Yang's foot snaps out and the gruesome crack of Russel's leg breaking echoes through the cafeteria.
Russel howls in agony and collapses onto the floor, writhing and squirming, tears streaming from his eyes.
"I said, shut up!" Yang snarls. Her world is awash in the red haze of her fury as she delivers a brutal punch to Russel's throat.
The boy's eyes bulge and he gurgles with an awful, guttural choking sound. His eyes roll back, and he slips into unconsciousness.
"Back off!" One of Russel's buddies, Nate tackles Yang from behind.
The breath is driven out of Yang as she impacts the floor in a rush. Her assailant slas her head into the floor, seizing her by the hair, which only infuriates her more.
Yang manages to break free from the boy's hold by throwing her head back, and she allows herself a grim smile at his surprised curse. She whirls, snatching her empty tray from the table and bashing it into the side of Nate's head with all her might.
The cheap plastic tray snaps in half on impact, and Nate stumbles back, dazed.
"Don't ever touch my hair." Yang snaps. She grabs Nate by the collar of his shirt and heaves, taking advantage of her newfound strength to send him flying. He sails through the air before landing on an empty table with enough force to break it in half.
He doesn't get up.
Yang blinks, her rage finally subsiding. She's disoriented, almost like waking up from a dream, and then vaguely horrified at the state Russel and Nate are in.
Did I do that? She wonders, even though the answer is obvious.
She hadn't thought she was capable of such violence…
The heat she feels begins to recede, leaving her exhausted and dizzy. Realization begins to seep in as her anger cools. She's just brutalized a fellow student to an extreme degree, something that will no doubt have consequences…
Her vision swims, her dizziness spiking in intensity, and she sinks to the floor, slipping into unconsciousness as blackness overwhelms her vision.
***TCE***
When she wakes up, Yang is at home.
She lets out an embarrassing shriek when she opens her eyes and discovers Pyrrha staring at her.
"Oh my god!" Yang exclaims, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Oh good, you're awake." Pyrrha's voice is stern. "Get up and meet me outside. We need to talk."
The events of the day come flooding back to her in an unpleasant rush, and she's immediately overwhelmed with guilt.
She can't really explain why she'd snapped like that, even though she knows Pyrrha will expect an explanation at the very least.
Yang forces herself off the couch and follows after Pyrrha.
Pyrrha and Jaune have done their best to care for her and Ruby since their parents were killed, and although it's definitely not the same as having her real parents back, it's an alright substitute.
Yang hates disappointing them, not least because they've put so much effort into making sure she and Ruby have the things they need. She also realizes that too many offenses might be too much and they may well decide they've had enough of playing house, leaving her and Ruby to fend for themselves…
She steps out into the backyard—they're living in a suburb of Vale, not exactly the middle of nowhere, but isolated enough to have some privacy. Their backyard is mostly empty, except for a rarely-used swingset and a sparring ring.
Pyrrha is in the sparring ring at the moment, looking at Yang expectantly.
"You could have killed those boys today, Yang. Russel has a broken leg, a fractured larynx, and his jaw is broken in three places. He'll have to have surgery to repair the damage to his mouth and get false teeth for the ones that were...lost. And, Nate has a concussion."
"Russel started it." Yang replies, feeling the same heat from earlier building in her chest at the memory. It is warm, like the sunshine she feels on days like today. But it can be so much more than that, an inferno to burn down anything in her way.
Part of her almost misses the way that felt.
"I just finished it." Yang says, with finality.
Pyrrha eyes her seriously. "You've never lost your temper like that before...What happened?" she doesn't sound angry per se; she's definitely not happy, but she mostly sounds curious.
"I don't know." Yang deflects. "I just lost it. Russel said some stuff about—" Yang's breath hitches, but she forces herself to continue. "About how mom and dad woulda been ashamed of me. He was trying to get a rise out of me, said mom and dad abandoned us." Yang explains, tears dripping off her chin. She hates crying, especially in front of other people, but she can't help herself now. "And I just...snapped. I've never felt so angry…I didn't mean to hurt them—not like that. I just wanted to be left alone."
Even now, the ghost of that fury is there, beckoning, tempting her with its power.
She hates everything about this conversation, hates being so open and vulnerable, even with the people she trusts.
"I think you've finally discovered your Semblance, Yang." Pyrrha says.
Yang blinks. What? "Getting angry?"
"You felt it, not me. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but I can't discover that for you." Pyrrha says. "You must learn to control yourself, Yang. I've been meaning to have this talk with you for quite some time, and now my hand has been forced."
Pyrrha frowns, her expression tired, as though she's been carrying a heavy burden.
"You're not like other people, Yang." Pyrrha says. "You have a gift. And, I don't mean your Semblance."
"You're not making any sense." Yang replies.
"Perhaps it's best to just show you instead. This will be unpleasant, and I apologize for that. We can talk more when you've recovered." Pyrrha says.
Without further preamble, she lunges, driving her sword into Yang's chest, all the way up to the hilt.
Being stabbed hurts more than Yang could have possibly imagined.
Her chest is on fire, like she's being burned alive from the inside out, every nerve ending a supernova of agony.
Yang's mouth falls open, but she's in far too much pain to scream.
The pain obliterates her awareness, she only has enough time to be shocked and horrified at the blood staining her clothes, bright red and warm and sticky, for a moment before she collapses to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.
"Why?" Yang croaks, hurt and betrayed by what Pyrrha's just done to her.
"You'll understand soon enough." Pyrrha says.
How? Yang wonders blankly.
And then, she's gone.
At least for a few moments.
When she comes to, the unbearable agony from earlier has subsided into an extremely unpleasant ache. She groans, shifting, trying to figure out the extent of the damage, and realizes that her clothes are crusted with dried blood.
Her dried blood.
"W-what?" Yang murmurs, her voice barely audible. "What is this?" She wonders, looking at Pyrrha. Completely mystified, she continues: "What did you do?"
"I did nothing." Pyrrha says simply. "This is the result of a blessing your father gave you, just before he was killed. You're immortal, Yang." Pyrrha explains, pausing for an unbearably long moment.
I can't die… Yang realizes.
It's not nearly as comforting a thought as she'd have expected—as it also means she'll outlive almost everyone she cares for.
"And what if I don't want to be? I didn't ask for this!" Yang says, feeling the all-too-familiar burn of anger beginning in her chest.
"Control yourself, Yang." Pyrrha says, too calmly, and Yang only becomes more upset. It's as though Pyrrha's using her tranquility to taunt her.
"Control myself?" Yang very nearly screeches. "You've just told me that I can't die, and you expect me to just be completely fine with it?"
"No, I don't. It took me a very long time to make peace with it myself. But you will control your anger. Your actions still have consequences, and I don't think I need to explain to you how miserable your life could be if you let your emotions control you instead of the other way around." Pyrrha says, in the same too-calm voice.
"I don't need a lecture!" Yang snaps, her chest heaving as she struggles to clamp down on her rapidly increasing ire. With a herculean effort, she manages to keep it contained.
Barely.
"No." Pyrrha agrees. "What you need is discipline. Whether that comes by my hand or you own is up to you. But you will control yourself…Because if you don't, you will become a monster, ruled by your fury and doomed to destroy everything you love. Just because you can't die, doesn't mean that you're immune to a miserable eternity, Yang."
"I have plenty of discipline. Today I was provoked." Yang grits, already able to feel her control slipping.
"Today, you failed to maintain control of yourself. We cannot control how others behave, only how we respond to their behavior."
"You weren't there!" Yang snarls.
"No more excuses." Pyrrha says evenly. She draws her sword and readies her shield. "It's time for your lesson."
Yang blinks, confusion layering on top of her frustration and leaving her even more unbalanced. "My lesson?"
"Yes. Your anger, properly channeled, can be a very useful tool. But first, you need to vent, and I need a sparring partner. If you're so sure you can handle yourself, it should be no problem for you to take me down."
Yang smiles.
Finally.
Yang surrenders to her rage, launching herself at Pyrrha with reckless abandon.
She dies eight times.
Pyrrha falls into the rhythm of combat immediately, with such ease that it seems to be almost instinctive. She slips, dodges and blocks Yang's blows effortlessly, never moving a millimeter more than necessary.
The first time Yang dies, it's a thrust to the heart when she leaves herself open after a counter.
Then, her throat is cut.
The next four deaths are from blood loss, with Pyrrha wearing her down through attrition rather than a brutal counter.
The seventh death is a disembowelment, horrible and gruesome and more painful than anything she's experienced thus far.
The last one is the most disturbing by far. It begins when she unleashes a wild haymaker, frustrated with the fact that she hasn't landed a single blow yet, and they've been sparring for what feels like hours.
Pyrrha sidesteps the blow, following up with a devastating counter with her shield, striking with the fury of a vengeful goddess.
The impact is a burst of white lightning.
Yang reels, spitting blood and teeth and struggling to breathe between her ruined mouth and shattered nose.
Pyrrha's already moving to capitalize on the opening, and Yang barely has time to register the sword screaming toward her neck before everything goes black once more.
Yang screams when she comes to again—the image of her own head staring back at her is profoundly uncomfortable and creepy; not to mention it will be burned into her brain forever. She's shaken out of her fog of simmering anger by the sigh, and she has to take a moment to collect herself, breathing heavily.
"It's unsettling to see your own decapitated head, but after the third or fourth time, it won't bother you anymore." Pyrrha says by way of explanation. She rolls her shoulders. "Come on, we're just getting started."
Yang picks herself back up, settles into her ready stance, and cracks her knuckles. "It's hardly fair that I have to fight you with no weapons…" she says.
"You'd do well to plan on being in a disadvantaged position in every fight." Pyrrha replies, as the two of them begin circling. She lunges, testing Yang's defense with a probing attack.
Yang easily dodges. "That's...a good point." She dodges Pyrrha's next swing and seizes her sword arm to wrestle her sword away. She gets the distinct impression that Pyrrha has allowed this on purpose, but she presses her advantage anyway. The sword feels awkward and unfamiliar in her hand. Her attacks are clumsy, too loose and imprecise, and Pyrrha takes her weapon back with little effort.
"That was smart." Pyrrha praises, giving Yang a nod. "You showed initiative, there. It is important to do everything you can to gain the upper hand in battle."
"Thanks," Yang says, and bursts into motion, catching Pyrrha off-guard enough to tackle her to the ground. She lays into the red-haired warrior, posturing up and delivering a brutal salvo of punishing blows.
Pyrrha takes the beating with an almost inhuman serenity, before she counters by clocking Yang with the edge of her shield.
Dazed and bleeding, Yang topples off of Pyrrha, annoyed at herself for not being ready for a counter like that.
Pyrrha is on her immediately, this time with her spear instead of her sword, the added reach presenting an even greater challenge.
Yang dodges and weaves as best she can, unable to press the attack as she can't close the distance between them.
Pyrrha smirks, evidently amused by Yang's inability to fight her effectively.
Yang grits her teeth against her mounting irritation. It's only made worse by the pain from shallow cuts with the spear's tip, or solid smacks from the shaft, all while she's completely unable to fight back.
She feels the familiar heat of her anger building in her chest.
If this keeps up, she thinks, I'm gonna get mad again…
Yang ducks, the shaft of the spear whistling overhead, as she takes advantage of the opening to close the distance between her and Pyrrha. She deflects the shield-bash that she's slowly learning to anticipate, and barely avoids Pyrrha's follow-up cut. She lets her fury boil over, unleashing a counter of her own by redirecting Pyrrha's lunge, guiding the blade so it runs Pyrrha through.
Pyrrha makes a choked noise and looks down at the red stain blossoming over her abdomen.
Yang wrenches the sword free, drawing the blade across Pyrrha's throat.
Arterial blood sprays from the wound, and Pyrrha pitches forward onto the ground, motionless. A pool of blood spreads rapidly from underneath her unmoving form.
Yang immediately feels sick, and stumbles away to vomit into the grass. Intellectually, she know's Pyrrha will be fine in a moment or two, but it still feels utterly, fundamentally wrong to have 'killed' the person who's put so much time into taking care of her and Ruby.
Tears spring to her eyes as guilt begins to overwhelm her.
"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asks, as she comes to stand next to Yang, placing a comforting hand on her back.
"I'm sorry," Yang says quietly, sniffling.
"What are you sorry for? You won." Pyrrha points out.
"And it felt awful." Yang replies, looking at the older woman with red, puffy eyes. "I knew you'd be okay, and I still felt like I'd done something wrong...Is that how it always feels? Killing someone?"
"Taking a life is not something to be done lightly, Yang. With time and experience, you will become callous to it if you allow that. But the day you stop feeling anything when you're forced to take a life is the day you should walk away from being a Huntress. That is how you become a monster."
"I see...Are those boys I fought today...are they going to be okay?" Yang asks, feeling sick all over again at the fact that she'd almost killed two people in her fury—that she'd have felt that guilt over something permanent, that she'd have taken lives over something so trivial as some cruel words.
"They will be fine. That is the lesson for today Yang—that taking lives is not something that should be done casually. Killing the creatures of Grimm is one thing. But killing a person…that's something entirely different. Sometimes it is necessary, but it should be a matter of last resort only. That is why it is so necessary that you learn to control your temper. With your semblance, you could easily take a life by accident if you cannot control your emotions."
"I understand…" Yang says softly, taking a moment to absorb Pyrrha's words.
"You did well today, Yang. We will do this every morning before you leave for school, and every evening when you get home. It is a good introduction to combat, and it will help you blow off some steam." Pyrrha says.
"You let me win." Yang realizes.
"I did." Pyrrha admits, smiling. "First, because I needed you to understand that taking a life is a very serious thing, without the risk of actually killing someone. And, because if you never win, there is no incentive to keep trying to improve. Winning has to be possible sometimes, although I am sure that with time, you will beat me legitimately as well."
Yang nods. "Does Ruby know? About the whole immortality thing?"
Pyrrha shakes her head. "No. She is too young for that conversation to be had yet. And, that knowledge might encourage her to be reckless and end up causing trouble for her in the future."
Yang nods again. "Yeah...I can see that. It's probably a good idea to wait a little while before telling her."
Pyrrha claps Yang on the shoulder. "I am going to go and wash up."
Yang looks down at herself and realizes that her clothes are hanging off of her in tatters, barely preserving her modesty. What little is still intact is soaked in blood. "Yeah...I could use a shower too." she says, grimacing at the state she's in.
You did well today." Pyrrha says.
"Thanks." Yang replies, and follows Pyrrha inside.