Vale. Vacuo. Atlas. Mistral. The Kingdoms of Remnant.
Boyd Flynn was not sure how the Kingdoms established themselves and prospered under the constant attack of the Grimm, but he felt that it was long, hard, bloody, and packed with Dust. Lots of Dust, the stuff that was said to have singlehandedly revolutionized mankind's advancement towards a relatively decent standard of living. Then again, not constantly dying was already a plus in Boyd's book.
He fumbled with the lighter he had unceremoniously stuffed into the furthest reaches of his old Vacuo-styled duffel bag and deftly pulled the old silver case out with a flick of his finger. The polished edges and metallic sheen invoked hidden sentiments of bitterness and guilt that quickly faded when he realized that those dark times in his life were over.
He sighed, wallowing in his past regrets before closing his eyes tightly, a hand placed over his temples. If at any point he could have gone back and started things over, then many things would have had gone differently. By the time he realized, comprehended, the extent of his influence, it was already too late. He was out of options now, injured, and out of commission.
Sometimes he had to wonder if Grimm were truly the only monsters in the world. At the very least, they were simple.
He opened his eyes, the action accompanied by the habitual flicking of his thumb which flipped open the silver lid of his lighter. Moments later, he grimaced when he saw that the match fuse was broken.
Great, just something else that he'd need to repair.
His eyes scanned over the quaint office around him, cluttered tableware, scattered papers, and a pile of dirty laundry he only considered washing after the odour began settling. It was a dream office if he had any say in the matter, but in the words of his niece, Cerise Flynn, it was a pigsty, not that she could understand the novelty of it anyway.
The girl was far too concerned with his well being that it became awkward to kick her out because she was an annoyance. Fortunately, she wasn't around today to encourage him to work seriously.
Boyd worked as a journalist on the surface, and he didn't wish to involve those close to him in his affairs. As such, he came off as a slouch and lazy hard-ass in his niece's eyes, the kind of man who couldn't do anything on his own. Then again, she was busy training to become a Huntress, so when he compared her work ethic to his, his could only appear abysmal.
It didn't matter.
He kicked up his feet to rest over his desk and rested his back into his leather office chair.
This was the kind of life retirement spoke of, and besides, he was done being a Hero. Those times of constant fighting in the shadows, the betrayals, and false expectations, all of it was over.
At times he even wondered if the words justice and ideals even meant anything anymore aside from political tools.
In the end, no one fights on righteousness alone. Every action comes with a cost and a gain, he'd learned that fact the hard way which was why he became all the more stunned when he saw something unimaginable.
Boyd's office was located near the central station of Vale's bustling main street which was both crowded and lively as a result of Vale hosting the thirty-second biannual Vytal Festival, an international competition between the Kingdoms. It was part of many government sanctioned events to maintain the happiness of the populace as a measure to prevent negative emotions that attract the Grimm.
Naturally, all Kingdoms were invested in the event with specially made Scrolls streaming the battles and highlights of participants on large screens throughout Vale.
One such screen was directly facing the window of Boyd's office, and initially, he had just been watching absently but a sudden intermission changed everything.
The broadcasting system of Vale and the other Kingdoms was outdated and set to be replaced by the end of the year with an updated version developed in Atlas. Until then, the older system which had many issues in its utility would continue to be used. A frequent problem experienced was the random live-streaming of Scrolls whose authentication codes were too similar to the frequency being officially broadcasted.
Mix-ups occur periodically and result in the wrong content being displayed. Often, it would show young Huntsmen and Huntresses fooling around before their exams and other miscellaneous activities by accident. Naturally, most of them were promptly taken off air until the trouble was settled, but this time was different.
There were no children fooling around.
There were no cities or streets to be seen either.
Only the desolation and despair found within a cloudless horizon. The stars a back drop to the remnants of a broken moon hanging amidst the faint glow of the twilight. A nameless sky in the middle of nowhere.
The video opened with an impending disaster.
Grimm. Hordes of them. Biting gnashing, growling, the sheer number was uncountable. Many in the audience didn't know what they were seeing at first, but by the time that they understood, comprehended the magnitude of the Grimm before them, many felt unable to breathe.
The sight was so shocking, that the liveliness of the thirty-second Vytal Festival suddenly extinguished like a blown candle. Even the technical officers who were in charge of correcting the broadcasting system's mistakes were left at a loss.
Ursa, their four pawed limbs left craters in the earth. The ground itself, mottled with holes as the sharpness of their claws pierced through the bedrock like metal to a grinder. The noise was sickening, the clatter of the bone-like spikes and masks that they wore evoking a feeling of restlessness. They lumbered on all fours; muscular bodies stronger than cast-iron propelling them forward one stride at a time. They led the Grimm from the center as sleeker, more agile Grimm, led the vanguard.
The White-Armoured Scourge.
Beowolves, perhaps one of the most abundant variants of Grimm. Bone plates protruded from their arms, backs, and knees, curved and jagged, the sharpness could puncture through solid metal with little difficulty. Their faces, long and narrowed resembled the visage of wolves, ferocious, brutal, and merciless. Any and all caught within the jaws of the beast would have the flesh torn from the sinew of their bones. Double-jointed hind legs allowed for prolonged bursts of speed, leaving dirt and grime in their wake, their strength relying on their dexterity and versatility unlike the behemoths that loomed behind them.
Ginormous building-sized monstrosities lumbered in the back line with pelts of sleek black composed of thick layers of skin. The ground sunk at their approach, layers of dust hovering in the wind and upturned by the trembling of the earth. Ivory tusks cleared through trees, bramble, and boulders like snapping twigs. Their bellows were deep and guttural, and under the weight of their momentum, reverberations scattered all throughout.
They were mammoths, those who towered even amongst the Grimm and migrate in herds, Goliaths.
In the skies, flocks of condors flew, their wings unfurled, flying on pinioned feathers of black. A pitch black, like a smeared canvas of Vanta, the darkness of an abyss. Crimson coloured eyes, two on each side of a slender visage, narrowed into ominous slits festering with ill intent.
The Condors, the Ravens, blotted out the sky, their caws heard for miles on end.
Nevermore, the Grimm of ill omens, harbingers of ruin and death; walls were insubstantial in their path, and yet it wasn't them that drew the attention of all spectating. It was the one commanding the entire army.
Left arm missing and expression twisted with hate and fury, there was a light in the Grimm's countenance that denoted higher intelligence.
An Elder Grimm.
The sheer scale of the amassed Grimm was enough to threaten the walls of any of Remnant's existing Kingdoms. That fact alarmed all the executives of Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, and Atlas in attendance within the Vytal Festival, their fists clenched, their tension fraught in the air.
This wasn't about some random malfunction in the broadcast system anymore, it concerned the well being of humanity.
No matter where that army of Grimm was heading, disaster was bound to follow, yet none knew the location of the live feed. Was it near Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, or Atlas? The uncertainty caused all the major powers to immediately mobilize their individual schools of Huntsman and Huntresses to prepare a defensive.
Ozpin of Beacon Academy was contacted followed by James Ironwood of Atlas, and the representatives of Vacuo and Mistral.
The attention given to a single video had skyrocketed within seconds, and in the midst of it all, a settlement finally came in sight as the zoom of the scroll decreased. Faunus were running back and forth over a hastily built high-wall of cut timber and packed clay, yet all could see that their efforts were worthless.
The walls were dilapidated from constant use and would not hold, the Huntsman and Huntresses amongst the Faunus too few to amount to anything meaningful.
"What the hell are you doing?!" The tone of voice that transmitted through the live feed was desperate. "Is this even the time for that? We have to find a way to live you bastard!"
The one yelling was a middle-aged Faunus with ash-grey hair and a pair of wings on his back. The area around was filled with log-based houses which many Faunus were vacating at the face of imminent danger.
Yet where could they run?
The people in the video were clearly in the middle of nowhere. There was no protection or shelter that they could possibly escape to.
The expressions of the Faunus watching from the other Kingdoms turned bitter. Many had heard of a group of Faunus venturing outside the Kingdom to create their own place to call home.
"I'm filming," Another voice answered. "If we're going to die anyway, then I just want whoever finds this place to see this video and tell my family at home that I died and not to worry anymore."
The mood became somber, palpable to even the most discriminatory of Faunus haters who could do nothing more than keep their feelings to themselves.
Suddenly, something changed.
It was like a bright light had descended down from the heavens. Hope found in despair, clinging onto it like a lifeline.
"L-Look, it's him!"
A lone Huntsman appeared, cloaked in a mantle of red, his back was the only image captured, firm, broad, and unbending. Where others ran, he alone walked forward, across the beaten road, over the dilapidated walls, he stood at the front. As if a protector of Humanity, an embodiment of the will of humans to survive.
In the face of an army of Grimm, what could one man do?
It was the strength of a single man, and the sword he wielded. A sword fraught with a will of its own. It began to exude a light brighter than any other, stronger than any other, it was a strength beyond aura, beyond semblance. That which was actualized through creation, and formulated into reality, a sword of legend- One that had once protected the white walls of a forgotten Kingdom.
The sword was raised.
A proclamation decreed.
"Sacred Sword, RELEASE!"
Magic, that which was once taken away from Remnant by its Gods remerged once more. Sigils spread across the dirt, forming into the shape of the stars, and rotating at its center. Where the sigil grew, the brilliance of life emerged, banishing the shadow, banishing the gloom.
A Sun manifested, tongues of flame writhing on it surface, its temperature boiling.
Even from where the Kingdoms of Remnant were spectating, it was like they could physically feel the heat, the warmth it gave. At the same time, they could feel the power contained within it, its destructive capabilities threatening to explode, and when it did, the world burned, tendrils of flame rapidly expanding.
"EXCALIBUR GALATINE!"
The Sword was swung.
Rocks began to melt, particles of loose sand and gravel crystalizing into glass that reflected the confusion in the Grimm's eyes before the flames engulfed them.
Ten.
Twenty.
Hundreds.
The inferno consumed them all before erupting into an inferno of fire that stretched beyond the clouds. A power far beyond anything a semblance could possibly produce. The strength in lied within the sword.
The audience stood up in their seats, the executives, huntsmen, huntresses, everyone could no longer sit still.
It wasn't just in the streets of Vale.
In all of the Kingdoms of Remnant, only a single live stream was playing in the silence.
If there was no light to be found in the dark, then create a light that shines down on others that banishes the dark.
The Sword was as the Sun.
As his eyes scanned across the area around him, only a few Grimm remained from the army that had once stretched as far as the eye could see. Embers scattered in the wind, blown by downward zephyrs that fuelled the lingering flames eating away at blackened carbon. The scent was pungent, a thick and acrid smoke seemingly proliferating endlessly.
He ran a hand over Galatine's steel shaft, the metal superheating until it shone with a blinding radiance. A Sacred Sword of the Planet once wielded by Gawain, Knight of the Round. Its destructive capabilities were inferior to Excalibur, but the end result was all that mattered.
Killing the Grimm wouldn't make them learn to stay away from the settlement of Faunus. New Grimm would arrive sooner or later, and by then, another attack would be imminent.
He had to ingrain it into the surviving Grimm's minds- Into the Elder Grimm's mind that attacking meant death.
This sword that was as the Sun would be the embodiment of the hope that protects.
In the history of Remnant, objects of great power known as Relics existed. Presently, each Huntsman Academy secretly contained them deep within the foundations of their establishments. They were the Relics of Choice, Creation, Destruction, and Knowledge. Each Relic was said to contain immeasurable power beyond mortal means, and right now, he had inadvertently created something that appeared akin to them.
In the distant office of Beacon Academy, a cup of coffee shattered as it hit the ground, fragmenting into tiny ceramic shards that scattered across the floor.
Meanwhile, he who was none the wiser only had a single course of action left.
Fight.
Even if there was no benefit to himself. Even if there was no meaning! It didn't matter so long as it saved others. That was his ideal as a Nameless Hero of Justice.
His foot planted before him, muscles going taught.
O Sword. O Holy Sword of the planet whose flames bring forth the light of destruction and the warmth of life, grant blessings to the unworthy so that the world may be cleansed.
He shot forward, on wings of primal fire. Flames stretched forth from the sword in his hands, igniting around him like a torch, a blaze, blistering and broiling. The air grew humid, currents of incandescent light tailed behind him, flickering like the glare of sundown.
Heroes were born from action, the fleeting intervals between victory and defeat, and he was no different.
Excalibur Galatine struck down with the furor of an enraged beast, the super heated metal slicing through armour, flesh, and bone with a sickening sizzle.
Burn.
Burn.
And Burn more.
Ashes spread across the land, grey and faded, leaving behind the impression of footprints as he soldiered on.
A pack of Beowolves lunged at him, snarling, their maws wide open in attack, trails of saliva falling from their lips.
He swerved backwards, jutting his sword into the ground and altering his momentum to evade the rows of sharp teeth before punching out with an enhanced kick to gain distance. No sooner than he reacted, did the Grimm attack with all their remaining numbers.
From the perspective of the crowd watching, his form was entirely swept up under the bodies of the Grimm.
He grimaced, feeling teeth and claws digging into his flesh even with his Reinforcement magic. It was his own fault charging in on his own.
He was not a master swordsman, spearman, or anything of the sort; he was just a simple blacksmith, but unlike other Heroic Spirits, he was unique. He didn't have to be skilled in anything to be an expert.
"Trace. On."
The history of any weapon was made known at a glance, ingraining within his mind and actualizing the experiences of a weapon's wielder. If he could not possess the ability to wield anything with proficiency, then all he'd have to do was emulate.
If it was an opponent that he couldn't defeat in reality, then he simply had to visualize something that could.
The flames around him began to surge, shining forth with the luster of a passed glory. A beam of light scattered the dark, piercing directly through the Grimm around him, the Beowolves, the Goliaths, the Ursa, it didn't matter. It was a light unable to be contained that spewed forth from the tip of Excalibur Galatine and extended its reach.
The sword of the Sun rose once more, his grip switching to a single hand, his body leaning forward into a forgotten stance of old.
The stance of Gawain, Knight of the Sun.
The sword's radiance shifted, the dazzling hue of yellow altering into a fiery orange. Where the sun's light hit, all would be vaporized.
As the sword moved, the clouds seemed to part under the weight of an overhead slash. The Nevermore fell from the heaven's, their feathers drifting, the Goliaths collapsed, and the Beowolves reduced to nothing. All that was left was a single Grimm. The Elder Grimm.
No longer was there any hate or animosity in its eyes and expression. All that was left was fear.
"Go," he spoke, uncaring if it understood him or not. He would not repeat himself for a second time.
The Elder Grimm hesitated, and under the eyes of all spectating, it retreated with such speed that it disappeared within seconds.
He took a breath, then breathed out. Traces of blood streamed from his body, coating over his skin, yet not once did his shoulders hunch. There was still something that he needed to accomplish.
He planted Excalibur Galatine into the ground and willed for the sword to activate, shifting its base functions using Alteration magecraft before flooding it with energy. The Noble Phantasm shattered, fragmenting into numerous currents of light all connected together at the base of the miniature sun it released above.
It was a visual sign that would act as a warning.
The corrective force of Gaia did not work in Remnant. Therefore, his traced projections could potentially remain indefinitely unless he dismissed them. This would serve his cause as without Excalibur Galatine's presence, the Elder Grimm may someday work up the courage to attack once again, and if he wasn't around, it would be a disaster.
To prevent such things, he had no choice but to keep Excalibur Galatine behind.
Drawing away from the sword which maintained its image of the sun in the air, the lands that were once devastated basked in the glow of a new tomorrow.
It was only after he had accomplished his goals that he finally turned to look down on his left hand. Parts of it had blackened into an unhealthy shade, and he felt a foreign energy trying to reach his spirit origins. Currently, it wasn't large enough to hamper him, but in the future it may be different. For now, wearing the shroud of Martin completely suppressed the growth of the dark mass. It was something to worry about later.
For the time being, he could already see the Faunus of the settlement running up to him in thanks, yet he had no time for greetings or acknowledgments. He'd done what he had needed to do, and that was enough.
He dematerialized with a thought, hidden away from view such that no one was able to find him again.
His destination was only at one place, his Master's side.
Ruby wobbled on her feet, her eyes drooping as she began to sway unsteadily. The amount of energy he had taxed on her to fuel his projection had been just enough to empty her reserves. The effects were evident, and he didn't want to her to collapse without him being nearby which was why he forewent the thanks of the Faunus.
Ruby was more important and Summer was already fretting by his side.
At this moment, Ruby's maiden journey outside of Patch, had come to its end.
He picked her up in his arms and wrapped her in a blanket tha he had prepared before hand.
"Up you go little one, let's go home," he whispered as her head lulled to sleep.
The Huntsman of Red, and the little girl he brought with him disappeared from Vermillion entirely no matter where the Faunus looked. They were simply nowhere to be found. When coupled with the feats that the Faunus had just witnessed, many realized that perhaps what had just occurred in front of them was something from directly out of a story book, but the fiery sun before their eyes spoke otherwise.
Heroes did exist.
In the Vytal Festival held in Vale, the entire venue was in utter silence, all watching had their gazes transfixed to the sphere of flame hovering in the air.
When the video promptly cut out, an uproar ensued. People were shouting, cheering, while the vast majority of Huntsman and Huntresses just stood there stunned.
None could ignore what had just happened, or forget what they had just seen, but no amount of technical skills could force the video shooter to continue recording. There was nothing that could be done. Instead, the various executives and government branches of the Kingdoms all began scouring the areas outside their borders to locate the exact location depicted in the video.
There was no way that a sun shining within the depths of a leveled forest could be too difficult to discover anyway.
While the upper bureaucracy discussed amongst themselves, the ordinary citizens were more transfixed upon a single point.
The Huntsman of Red that they had just seen was one like none other.
One man against an army.
After acting to protect the Faunus living in the settlement, he was gone as if he had disppaeared into thin air.
What had to be understood was that directly after Excalibur Galatine unleashed its attack, the trees, shrubs, and bramble of the vicinity was completely leveled. It was like standing over a flat plain. There was no where to run or hide without being seen, but the Huntsman of Red had vanished as if he were a ghost or phantom.
Perhaps it was a Semblance?
It was a far more believable an explanation as the sword that the Huntsman of Red used was clearly the source of the miniature sun produced. However, who could verify such theories? No one.
Speculations led to heated debates amongst the crowd, and even the leaders of the Kingdoms came to a silent decision to hold another meeting. What Excalibur Galatine symbolized was the proof that it was possible for Humanity to fight back against the Grimm, that more than just four Kingdoms could exist. More than that, in the eyes of James of Ironwood, a weapon of unprecedented capability had just manifested that could change everything.
Oddly enough Ozpin of Beacon Academy wasn't responding to the various calls sent his way. If one looked closer into Ozpin's office, one would only find an empty room.
James felt that something was off with Ozpin's behaviour, but the attraction of a new deterrent against the Grimm was of a higher priority than understanding what an old friend was thinking. With that in mind, he began to plan for the future.
The hunt for the Huntsman of Red officially began without Shirou's knowledge.
Meanwhile, not everyone was paying attention to what had occurred in the Vytal Festival.
Everything was different in Patch within a single home located near the woods.
Taiyang Xiao Long had not been sleeping in days. Bags had formed under his eyes, and the dark circulations were only becoming more apparent the longer he forced himself awake. At the same time though, he couldn't sleep even if he wanted to.
Summer was gone.
Ruby was gone.
He shuddered visibly, his nails digging into his palms and drawing blood, but he hardly cared. If not for the fact that Yang was sleeping near him, he probably would have long since lost his composure, yet he couldn't.
Yang was blaming herself hard, and no matter how he tried to convince her that Ruby's disappearance wasn't her fault, she wouldn't listen. Yang felt that if she hadn't told Ruby that Summer was gone, then Ruby would never have had vanished.
Vanished?
The word caused Tai's rage to erupt forth from deep within him, his face contorting dangerously. Tai was many things, patient, understanding, and slow to violence, but even he had times when his anger and recklessness could far surpass Qrow's. His family and those close to him were his largest taboo.
Ruby hadn't vanished, his little girl was taken. He had inspected Ruby's room over and over again in the days following her absence, and what he found was that there was no way Ruby could have gotten away by herself. The bedsheets were shifted, the curtains drawn, and the window left wide open, someone other than himself had clearly come and gone into his little girl's room and took her away.
It couldn't have been a normal person either. Tai was a Huntsman, he would have noticed it if such a thing had occurred, and the fact that he didn't meant that it must have been another professional Huntsman that acted against him.
Qrow was incensed when he had heard the news. The man was currently on a rampage breaking down the unlawful organizations hiding within Patch without mercy.
Tai would have joined Qrow if it weren't for his growing paranoia. What if he left and returned to find that Yang was gone too? He didn't want to think about it because he didn't know what he would do in his frenzy. Women could be scorned and strike back with an unholy fury, but there was nothing more frightening than a capable man with nothing left to lose.
Yang mumbled in her sleep. She had reverted back to her younger habits of crawling into his bed to seek comfort by hugging onto him, but presently he had gotten her to sleep first while he pondered over his thoughts. Her face was scrunched up, her limbs moving restlessly beneath the bedsheets.
She was having a nightmare.
Tai put aside his anger and moved to stroke Yang's back until her nightmare subsided.
It was only when his anger faded that despair set in. Summer was one thing, but Ruby was just a little girl. With the amount of days that had passed, there was no guarantee that she would be safe and sound.
He swallowed inwardly berating himself. If only he had been there for her when she was crying, none of this would have happened if he had the courage to face reality and discuss Summer's disappearance to Ruby.
Yet he was weak.
Raven had left, and he didn't want to face the fact that Summer was gone too.
He closed his eyes and struggled to sort his emotions out. However, he had no time to wallow in self regrets, his daughters needed him.
He brushed a hand over Yang's face and wiped away the sweat that had formed over her brows as a result of her nightmare. He didn't want her to wake up just yet. It was better that way. Her guilt was eating away at her and the only time she appeared tranquil was when she was sleeping.
Right now, it was only him and Yang around. Therefore, he would take care of her while doing all that he could to find Ruby.
Waiting until he was sure that Yang wouldn't stir if he left the room, he carefully pulled her arms and legs off of him and made his way to his study within the house. It was where he gathered all the evidence that pertained to Ruby's kidnapper.
There was no time for rest, he could not afford to when every time that he closed his eyes, he pictured something horrible happening to his youngest daughter. He could only rely on Qrow for now as he couldn't leave Yang on her own.
Making his way down the familiar hall of his own house, the pride and dignity he carried as an upstanding Huntsman faded away to reveal a man heavily weighed down by his burdens and guilt.
He punched a wall, his fist hitting metal and stopping halfway through. "Damn it," he cursed. "Fuck." He didn't dare strike again. The noise had reverberated within the house and could potentially wake Yang up.
He stood alone silently, helplessness assailing him. Even with the clues he had gathered as to where Ruby's kidnapper could have gone, he understood that it was all meaningless. There wasn't enough information to begin with.
All that he knew concretely was that the kidnapper escaped through the window. Motives and the like were all impossible to determine, therefore everything was fruitless.
Lost in his grief, his senses as a Huntsman activated all at once.
His ears perked up, his eyes narrowing sharply, while blood pumped furiously within him.
A noise had sounded off in Ruby's room just down the hall. Knowing that no one should have been in the room, Tai's expression became frigid as he considered the prospect of the kidnapper returning to the scene. No matter how irrational the event may be, Tai was no longer thinking clearly anymore.
He bolted forward as fast as his legs could take him, directly kicking the door open without any regard for how much noise was made.
Once he found himself inside his youngest daughter's room, his eyes widened when he saw Ruby sleeping soundly on her bed wrapped up in blankets. No matter how suspicious he was about the circumstances, frankly he didn't care.
His body trembled as he walked forward, stopping by the foot of Ruby's bed, and gently picking her up into his arms.
She was breathing, softly snoring despite the thundering boom he had made at his entrance.
Silently, he began weeping, all his worries no longer able to be contained as relief flooded through him. He pressed his face against hers, the stubble of his beard causing Ruby's expression to contort in discomfort, but it only made him that much more inclined to continue.
He held onto her tightly, as if deeply afraid that if he let go, she would fade away. In his happiness, he forgot that the noise he had made had surely woken up his eldest daughter.
Yang was peeking her head through the gap of the door leading to Ruby's room, unaware of what was going on inside. By the time, she pushed forward with her fingers and glanced into the room, she discarded all notions of hiding.
Tai felt Yang cling onto his leg, already knowing how she must have been feeling to see Ruby back. He tousled Yang's head and knelt down, carrying Yang in his left arm and Ruby in the right.
He took them both to bed without speaking, unwilling to break the silence. Sometimes words didn't need to be said to understand a point, and this was one of those times. The strength he put into his arms was enough to indicate his feelings.
Tai took Yang and Ruby to his room where he sprawled onto his bed for the first time in days. Both Yang and Ruby were clinging onto him, their legs and arms entangled around him and unwilling to be moved.
It was fine that way, Tai was content to let them be. So long as his daughters were safe, then he could put aside his worries for now. Only, he heard the crinkling of paper as Ruby snored beside him.
He furrowed his brows, freeing his right arm to observe Ruby carefully. It was then that he saw it, a piece of paper Ruby had stuffed under her clothing so that she wouldn't lose it. It was a habit she had picked up from Yang who said that the method was fool proof.
At first, he thought that the paper was something left behind by the kidnapper and grew apprehensive, yet his curiosity won out in the end.
Carefully, he turned Ruby around and pulled down the zipper located on the back of the pink onesie she was wearing. In the same motion, he retrieved the piece of paper, rezipped Ruby's onesie, and allowed her to cling onto his chest.
In the dim lighting of his room, Tai stared at the piece of paper in his right hand which he was holding over his head as he lay on his back.
For the first time in months, Tai felt like he couldn't breath as his eyes immediately recognized the penmanship.
When he had first heard that Summer had gone missing, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that he had 'shut down.' He was no longer able to think straight and felt that nothing good could ever come to him again.
The more he read, the quieter he became until the point where it seemed as if he wasn't breathing. Only the sound of Yang and Ruby muttering in their sleep echoed out to be heard, Ruby about cookies and Yang about boys.
As much as Yang's muttering provoked him as a father, Tai didn't register anything else but the paper in front of him.
Summer.
The paper was written by Summer.
The revelation was akin to being hit by a sledge hammer. More so when he read up to a single word.
Trapped.
It had been months since the last time anyone had heard from Summer, to the point where even her official Huntress licence was classified as deceased. However, the reality before his eyes was now far different than before.
The man that had shut down, suddenly revived with an unshakable determination.
Summer was alive. She was alive!
The paper crumpled in his hand, his excitement getting the better of him before he realized something important.
She said trapped.
His expression cooled, yet was replaced by an unwavering determination; a kind that only married men and fathers could understand. A Love stronger than anything, willing to sacrifice their all.
"I'll save you, Summer. I promise," his words struck at the heart. It was a vow.
Tai stared out the window, not knowing that Summer was already in the room watching him quietly. She was trembling visibly, her agitation evident on her face, her lips quivering and eyes moistened.
Tai's words caused her to swallow, her body floating to rest beside him and her daughters. Despite knowing that they couldn't hear nor touch her, she wrapped her hands around them and remained that way for the entirety of the night.
Shirou sighed as he left, knowing that he was no longer needed.
The order of his First Command Seal was complete, yet this wasn't the result he was hoping for.
He crossed his arms and inclined his head.
One day he'd save this family, and lead it to a happy ending.
One day.
Surely.
No matter how long it takes.
Thanks for Reading!
Author's note: I do not know how I got this done in time, but my first exam's tomorrow and I still have a couple hours int he night to review. Go brain go, now if only the motivation could last long enough to not get distracted.
P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious