an: not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but hey – i got it out when i said i was going to, so there's that!
disclaimer: you still think it looks too much like a gamer fic?
an: little bit. feel i could have added more to this chapter, but i didn't due to time.
disclaimer: eh, it's long enough. anyway don't you have something to say?
an: no, but you do.
disclaimer: right, right. rwby is owned by rooster teeth, and persona is owned by atlus. the author of this fanfic owns neither.
Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgment.
Needle Point, Patch
11 July 80 P.B.
12:33 PM
"See ya tomorrow, Yang!"
Walking out of the large break room at Snapper Redd's, Yang Xiao Long felt free. And for the rest of the weekend until Monday, she would be.
She gave a wave to Baza as the door closed behind her then, quickly guzzling the last of her sports drink and tossing it in a nearby recycling bin, started walking quickly towards the main entrance. She had already changed out of her uniform so there was no chance of anyone new realizing she was an employee, but she kept her hurried pace up anyway in case any customers that had been in since before she went into the break room saw her. With as big a store as most Snapper Redd's were, that was always a possibility.
Mr. Steele met her in the giant display in the middle, in front of the taxidermied Atlesian dire bear defending its territory from a fake Ursa. Holding his ubiquitous camo-wrapped steel mug, he waved her over.
"Xiao-Long," he said. "Just wanted to talk to ya for a moment."
A sudden announcement from her boss always spooked her just a bit, but the tone of his voice instantly calmed her down. And knowing previous conversations with him, she had a pretty good idea what he was about to say.
"I'm still not interested," she said with a shrug. "I mean, what's the point of training for your job if I'm only gonna be here a few months, and with Beacon paying me just for being there?"
He waved his hand horizontally in a gesture of partial agreement, but nodded. "I know, I know. But - they don't pay you during the summer breaks, and if you take the training now, you won't need to waste time with it then."
Yang thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll think about it."
"All I ask," he said as he gestured to the doors.
She needed no further encouragement, and wasted no further time. She was almost caught by the trout pond but just hurried her pace to avoid a conversation, leaving a quite flummoxed man with a cart full of fishing lures in her wake. She peeled the umbrella bag off her umbrella at the door way, tossed it in a recycling bin, opened it, and headed out into the parking lot.
It was only a drizzle, and the only thing really at risk was her hair, but Tai's word was law - no riding Bumblebee in the rain until she was eighteen, and thus old enough to take it on the highways under Valean law. Thus, her staring with a slight grimace at her father's 4x4 SUV, the one he had owned ever since he graduated Beacon. An enormous, decades-old, wood-paneled, lifted, canary yellow SUV of Vale manufacture. With a surfboard rack. And enough bumper stickers to hold it together despite the rust, of which there was none. She and Ruby had spent many a night ensuring as much as punishment for their more severe breaking of rules.
The V8 rumbled to life, and as she moved the hulking machine through traffic, Yang wondered if she shouldn't have broken a few more rules. It bounced and jiggled all the way to the grocery store, and after alerting her father to the presence of the mango-flavored beer he liked, it bounced and jiggled all the way home with a back full of food and coffee. But the rain only stopped once she was in sight of the cabin, so she wasn't complaining. Much.
Yang hadn't even stopped the engine before Ruby was barreling out of the house towards her.
"Ruby, wha-oof!"
Any comment she may have made was interrupted by a hundred and twelve pounds of fourteen-year-old latching onto her in a flying hug. It was a testament to Yang's physical training that she didn't stagger an inch from the sudden impact as Ruby, eyes still closed, tilted her head up to ask, "Did you get the chocolate chip cookies I asked you to?"
Yang's smile turned forced. She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly and answered, "Sorry, Rubes. Musta forgot."
Ruby froze. "Buuuuuuut, you'll have time to get them after you go to the gym, riiiiiiight, dearest bestest most favoritest sister of mine?"
I'm your only sister, Yang thought automatically but did not say as she slowly pried herself free. She was an experienced punmaster, she was not going to go for such low hanging fruit. "You really want cookies that've been bounced around in a motorcycle's storage compartment all day?"
"Yep!" Ruby immediately replied, popping the P.
Yang crossed her arms. "No. I got stuff to do in Vale tonight, so you won't get 'em until tomorrow anyway."
Ruby made it two and a half steps back to the house before Yang hooked three fingers in her shirt collar and stopped her in place.
"Ggghk! Help! Help!" Ruby cried pathetically, mechanically moving her arms up and down. "I am a child in need of protective services! I was denied my cookies and now my oxygen!"
"Nice try," Yang said as she messed up her sister's hair. "Now help me get these inside so I can get to the gym."
Said sister followed right along, folding her hands behind her back. "Not gonna stay for a late lunch?" she asked as she pulled the first cooler bag out.
"Already had lunch," Yang replied as she pulled the second out with a 'hup' of effort. "Get the door," she called out from behind it.
Ruby did so with one hand, pulling the door aside to let her sister in, and letting it swing closed behind the two of them as they made their way to the kitchen. She set the cooler bag on the counter with one hand and used the other to open the fridge. Both hands went back to unzip the top flap, and then started putting packets of raw chicken into the fridge. "Can I at least go with you later?"
Yang paused for just a moment, but only just. She stepped aside to let Ruby away from the fridge, then put a gallon jug of milk inside. "Why do you want to go to Vale?"
"Dust!" Ruby replied immediately as she pulled out a plastic tub of salad greens. "You know I always get my dust from From Dust Till Dawn whenever I get the chance."
"Plenty of Dust shops on Patch," Yang said as she returned from the door, now bringing in four regular paper bags and setting them on the counter. "Why do you want that one?"
Ruby snorted as if the answer was obvious. "You know I only want the best for my baby." She didn't have her baby on her at the moment, but she mimed cradling the sniper-scythe and petting it like a cat. Ignoring her sister's eyeroll, she continued. "And the shops here mostly have generic firearm grade Dust, or SDC Basic grade. I need the good stuff."
Yang looked at her through lidded eyes until Ruby lowered her head and admitted, "...and if I buy the good stuff I don't have to clean the gun parts as often."
The blonde sighed, pressing a hand to her face. "I'll take you." Preemptively sensing the enthusiastic cheer of her sister, she held up a finger. "After I get back from the gym."
.. / -... ..- .-. -.
Kim's Gym in the Patch capital of Eyehorn was Yang's favorite and usual haunt, for three reasons.
Firstly, it allowed training with one's Persona - most did not.
Secondly, it had the best sports drink bar. Bar none. Except it did look like a bar, and the mixologist manning it sure looked like a stereotypical bartender.
And third and most important, she had gotten membership for the gym practically for free, having won it in a work contest.
Oh, and it also had a parking garage, so her Bumblebee would stay dry when the inevitable post-rain squall came around. It always did.
She spent the bare minimum of time in the locker room. Traffic had held her up a bit, so she wanted to get to work immediately. The raucous noise of some Menagerie punk band was drowned out and silenced by a pair of yellow noise-canceling headphones as she made her way to the punching bags. She wasn't going to use them yet, but if she did her warmups there she was less likely to hit someone by accident, and a lot of non-huntsmen used this gym.
She turned them on, and Professor Hino's dulcet tones came through in the form of one of his lectures.
Man should've been a podcaster, she thought to herself as she began to focus on her form.
It is a common misconception, he began, that the strength of one's Persona is dependent solely on mental fortitude. While that is a factor, it is not the sole source of a Persona's power.
She hopped back a step to prevent herself from actually hitting the punching bag. This was just a warmup, and she didn't have anything on her hands to protect them either. Normally she wouldn't care, but she had plans today. Big plans.
The mind and body are, of course, one, as is the soul. Unlike Aura, though, it is entirely possible to strengthen one's Persona, as well as increase the efficiency of one's use of it.
She paused to take a swig from her water bottle. She started to resume shadowboxing, then thought better of it and started wrapping up her hands.
Persona is the power of one's mind and will, and is thus closely tied to one's mentality. I normally detest such empty platitudes as 'think positive', but when it comes to Personas, there is real evidence of its value.
She checked the wrappings once more. Satisfied they were good enough, she started on the bag itself, giving it one light tap after another. She quickly built up a rhythm of jabs, thrusts, ducks, blocks, then all over again. The bag did not move - it was meant for huntsmen, and a seventeen-year-old Huntress-in-training was not going to send it swinging with a mere love tap and boxing tape.
Smirking at her reflection in the mirror, she walked to a set of shelves near the punching bags. Weighted (but padded) replicas of hand weapons of all shapes and sizes that could fit on a four-by-eight foot rack with plenty of duplicates lined the rack. There were plenty of options, though usually she went with her old reliable choice of bright yellow foam gauntlets, as they most closely resembled Ember Cecilia. Today would be no exception, and she swung her arms to test the fit as she returned to the bag.
"Aright, enough playin' around," Yang said to herself as she sent a haymaker of a right hook into the bag with a mighty thok of pleather-on-pleather.
Of course, this is a school for Huntsmen and Huntresses, so you no doubt wish to know how to improve the fighting ability of your Personas.
The rhythm of her punches started to move the bag. It seemed to hover at an angle, kept aloft by her gauntleted fists.
To that, the answer is simple. Practice fighting without one. "Ah, but Professor!" you ask. "Why would I need to fight on my own, when I can have my Persona do all the work for me?" It's a good question. True, Personas are very powerful - even the Mass-Produced Personas most of you will likely end up using are far stronger than the average adult Huntsman, and in some cases faster as well.
Yang let it drop, swinging forward, then slammed both fists into it in a single strike, letting it swing a whole two feet forward. She stopped its backswing with another double strike, then sent it up again with a kick, then resumed her rhythmic jabbing.
To which I reply: would you use a sledgehammer on a fly? A Persona is strong, it is fast, but it is not the right tool for every occasion. Some situations will require a… gentler touch.
Her pace slowed, letting the bag return to the vertical before switching up to kicks - slow, gentle, and steady, this was an upper body day and all she wanted to do was give her arms a bit of time off.
A Persona is a poor choice for a stealth operation, obviously. You would not take it to any sort of mission that requires finesse, and using a Persona for a simple guarding mission is as mentally draining as it is, as your generation would say, 'overkill'.
Slowly she upped the pressure and force of her kicks until the bag was again at an angle, then she started bouncing the bag off her shin, alternating legs every thirty seconds.
"All good points, Professor, but in that case, what does training to fight with your own body and weapon have to do with Personas? Would not Professor Wilhelm be a better source of training for that?"
One final kick sent the bag up, then Yang again caught it with her fists and started pummeling it - now not just jabs, but upswings, downswings, blocks, and every conceivable movement with her fists against the defenseless reinforced bag of sand. Slowly she picked up in both pace and force, and it began to rise.
This is simplicity in itself to answer. Personas are a part of your own psyche, your own soul, just as much as your Aura is, only smarter. A Persona knows what you know, and that includes mentality and muscle memory. All else equal, the Persona of a trained fighter will always defeat the Persona of someone who only ever fought with a Persona. And one that thinks, that learns, that studies will always beat one who has not.
With a yell of effort, Yang sent one last punch to the bag, sending it nearly vertical.
As with anything else to do with learning to be Huntsmen and Huntresses, learn to fight, but also learn to better oneself. This is how one becomes great.
It swung up, up, until the bottom just barely touched the ceiling, then came swinging down. This time she didn't punch it, she caught it with a muted 'oof' and a sudden step backwards. She let it go and let her arms swing, giving them a bit of a rest.
"Good warmup," she said with a nod to the sandbag, then headed towards the weights. "Now to get started."
.. / -... ..- .-. -.
Junior's Club
11 July 80 P.B.
10:15 PM
She walked into the club like she was walking onto a yacht, startling a raven by the door as she sauntered through the crowd all the way up to the bar. She waved at the bear-masked DJ with one hand, and then with the other dismissed a notification on her Scroll. She noticed the presence of wanted criminal Roman Torchwick, but paid it no mind. She wasn't here for him, and his presence here only made her own more justified. Good criminals went to good information brokers, after all.
The bass was powerful enough to shake the polished wooden bar (glass breaks, metal is cheap, and plastic is tacky) but the music was low enough that people didn't have to yell to be heard. Another good sign. She flopped onto the stool next to her target with a smile.
"Strawberry Sunrise. No ice. Oh - and one of those little umbrellas."
"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this, Blondie?" asked the bearish man with a full two feet on her on the next stool.
Yang just giggled as they both turned to face each other. "Aren't you a little old to have a name like Junior?"
The man snorted, then rested his back against the bar. "So, you know who I am. You got a name, sweetheart?"
"I have many names," she said with a smile. "But you can call me sir," she finished firmly, with an equally firm grasp of Junior's groin. Junior was less than pleased about the whole affair, judging by the girlish squeal he let out when she did so.
"People say you know everything." She pulled out an aged photograph from a pants pocket. The woman in the photograph was obviously related to her, an older sister or perhaps a mother - disregarding the red bandana the woman in the photograph wore on her head, the only differences were the black hair, the red eyes, the smaller nose, and the slightly sharper chin. "Tell me where I can find her and I'll let you go."
"Never seen her before in my life-" Squeeze. Yelp. "Sir!"
Junior's eyes shifted to the side, and Yang's followed them to notice most of the henchmen he had in the building (apart from the DJ and bartender) approaching, armed with aluminum bats, crowbars, and truncheons. Some even have pointier weapons -fire axes, swords, and - was that a chainsaw? Groovy.
"Listen - Sir - if you want to make it out of this club alive, I suggest you let me go!" She did. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and put on his sunglasses as he walked away, his henchmen surrounding him. He muttered a "You'll pay for that" or something suitably stereotypical under his breath, the thumping bass made it hard to tell. Yang only giggled yet again, clearly having heard him.
"Oh, lighten up, Junior, I was only kidding. Don't be so sensitive! C'mon, let's kiss and make up, okay?"
Junior gave her an odd look, but shrugged and leaned in. He closed his eyes as he did it, an act which made Yang let out another snort. Which was unfortunate, as he didn't see the enormous fist of Yang's Persona until it'd already punched him through two pillars.
The Persona was a giant - easily twice as tall as the average, and built like it'd just stepped off the cover of some trashy forty-year-old action flick's commemorative calendar. A bottle-blonde mullet was held back by an orange bandana that read "MCCOOL" in white letters across the forehead, right above a pair of oversized sunglasses with a cheetah-print frame, which themselves were above a goatee that couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be a goatee or a horseshoe mustache. Like Yang herself, he wore a leather bomber jacket and a yellow undershirt, though his jacket was black and he had full cargo pants instead of shorts, tucked into brown cowboy boots. On his crossed arms, the Persona wore a pair of golden, bladed gauntlet-gloves with the words "MAC'N" and "LUIN" on the finger guards.
An unspoken command, and her Persona pulled a collapsible spear from its back and swung it at the henchmen. Not expecting a fight with a Persona, they were woefully unprepared and sent flying back into the far wall with a crunch that only didn't cause Yang to wince because she already knew they had their Auras activated. Criminal thugs they may have been, but they were professionals. A pair of girls in fancy dresses jumped down from a hidden balcony, but judging by the Mass Production Personas behind them, they would be a midboss-level threat to her at most.
Yang brushed a bit of dust from her shoulder.
"Alright, let's dance!"