AN: Next chapter hitting close to on time? Holy shit! Long story short, we were set with the last round of edits back on the 29th... but my internet connection crapped out, so I lost access to the Google Doc we were working from, and then I was on vacation all last week. Got no reception at the cabin, barely any at the resort bar, and intermittent at best while I was on the lake; hell even if I was getting reception, there were fish to catch so... yea. Sorry about the delay, but if you don't schedule yourself some downtime your body and/or psyche will force the issue on you eventually, and I needed last week pretty damn bad, so not sorry I guess, heh.
I could bellyache about all the stuff going on behind the scenes, but I'll just leave it at Myself, MasterPrince and Hybrid still doing our damndest to deliver the best content we can, and keep making updates on as close to a monthly bvasis as we are able at the same time and leave it at that.
I don't own RWBY, Highschool DxD or make a penny off of this.
"Now I know I don't need to remind you of this, Pyrrha," Dad rumbles, massaging what bits of Jaune's shoulders and neck he can reach through his armor. "But you can't let the crowd get to you. They're going to be even louder today than they were for Teams. And during the finals..." The towering man trails off and looks over to Pyrrha, who waves from the bench she'd perched on the end of after they'd finished stretching and putting their armor on.
Pyrrha blushes a bit, before offering Dad a beaming, somewhat forced smile. "I'm–"
Solus Arc cuts her off with a softly raised hand that sets back to its previous action. "None of that now. You're easily the best fighter of your generation, and I have absolutely nothing against you representing your Team and Vale in the finals rounds." His father's voice is just as warm as it's ever been for Jaune as he reassures his partner and girlfriend.
"Thank you?" Pyrrha replies, before standing up and starting to pace, spinning Miló in her hand and switching it between its different forms. Dad closes his eyes and sighs quietly in that fondly long-suffering way he does when Jaune–or any of his sisters–are doing something he feels is unreasonable in the light of his parental affection. When he opens them and looks over at Pyrrha and for a moment it seems like he's going to flutter over to her side to try to calm her down the same way he is for Jaune, before Jaune nudges his leg with an elbow.
The mountain of a man returns his attention to his son. Jaune isn't the first Arc of this generation to compete in the Vytal Festival, and Solus is no stranger to people having particular pre-match routines.
Pyrrha falls into a steady six count rhythm, her breathing timed with her weapon switching between forms, and Dad nods decisively. "Better. Still nowhere near enough assertiveness for you to last when the Girls get a hold of you when the Tournament's over, but better."
Ugh… Dad just had to go and remind him.
"What?" Pyrrha asks, her stride stuttering by a hair.
Dad shrugs. "Sure, they gave you 'The Business' while I was talking to my son about why he thought it was a good idea to keep me in the dark about the mess that left him ready to lead his Team through that shit-show in Pendles. And all the other missions where you kids had to use lethal force and get all of you through the aftermath, but trust me when I say the Girls were going easy on you kid."
Jaune rolls his eyes. He playfully elbows Dad again for that. Not the time. "Don't sweat it, Pyr. That's a problem for next week. We've got a match coming up."
The elder Arc nods easily in agreement. "And just because you know both of your opponents, how they fight, and haven't lost to them yet doesn't mean that either of you can afford to go easy on them. There's always a first for everything, you hear?"
These words get Pyrrha to nod, the splash of worry fading away as she eases back into her routine. "Any given fight night. They don't have to be better than us on average, just today."
Grinning a bit, Jaune nods. "I mean, 'on average' is how those two got labeled as Mistral's second and third best on the tourney circuit. Plenty of flash-in-the-pan fighters that still managed to run through both of them just to splatter against you without catching so much as a glimpse of the Championship ring."
"That doesn't change the fact that they've seen a lot more different types of fighters than either of you. Being the biggest barricade between an upstart and a match against the Invincible Girl is no small thing. If they've been holding on to any new tricks or ploys to try against Pyrrha, now's when they'll use them."
A trio of quick thumps echoes off the locker room's door. "Fifteen minutes." A stranger's voice announces after the door cracks ever-so-slightly open. "Anyone not competing has to leave the locker room now, and the Tournament staff would prefer for all contestants to wait at the final approach to the contestant entrance rather than the locker rooms from the doubles and onwards."
Dad claps him on the shoulder, then repeats the motion with Pyrrha. "You kids got this."
A few moments later, when it's just the two of them in the room, Jaune nudges Pyrrha with his elbow. "Remember, we're human prodigy fighters out there, not up-and-coming Devils. Keep it believable." Pyrrha nods, and then Pyrrha crosses the locker room to stand in front of him.
The 'quick' check of each other's armor feels comfortable.
A nice, familiar routine that Jaune knows both of them are coming to enjoy more and more. He plants a quick peck on her cheek 'for good luck' while double-checking the clasps running up the side of her armored corset.
The light dusting of pink that puts on her cheeks is cute.
When he steps back to give her the space to continue with their actual check, she steps right back in, hands going up to his shoulders to rattle at his pauldrons and the clasps of his breastplate beneath them. Then her right hand is cradling the back of his head and she's leaning in to get a proper kiss out of him. He can't feel the softness of her curves or firmness of her muscles like he'd been able to for that first kiss of theirs that's splashed all over the tabloids, but with her hair and gorgeous face dominating his vision, and the scent of her cinnamon and apple shampoo filling his nostrils, he definitely isn't complaining either.
Three more loud, insistent thumps on the door startles them apart. "Ten minutes!" The staffer's voice bellows, still loud despite being muffled by the thick walls and heavy steel door between them and him. Still blushing and eyes half-lidded, Pyrrha reaches out and jostles his belt buckle. "Don't want your pants falling down on us mid-match."
Shaking his head and not bothering to even try hiding his grin, Jaune quips, "Maybe I should start wearing more armor." as they turn to walk to the weapon rack where Crocea Mors and Akoúo̱ are resting. They collect the rest of their gear, Pyrrha's shield being slung over her back, and Jaune's sheat-shield getting clipped to his belt before he works the action on Mandatus' dart launcher.
"Who said I want you wearing more?" Pyrrha huskilly asks, before a look of realization crosses her face and it proceeds to turn nearly the same shade as her hair. A voice that sounds like an unholy cross between Issei, and Nora when she was still trying to get Ren to notice her loudly notes that competition gets his girlfriend worked up in more than one way from the back–or gutter, he supposes–of his mind at that.
He shoves the thought aside though, now very much not being the time for that sort of distraction.
As much as he wants to grab a handful of one of his gorgeous girlfriend's ass-cheeks and squeeze in retaliation, he restrains himself to a far more chaste shoulder-bump and half hug. "Let's just focus on getting you through to the finalists bracket for now."
Pyrrha nods and lets out a hum of agreement, her flirtatious expression rapidly melting away along with her blush to a laser-focus on the upcoming match again.
They exit the locker room, and one of the half-dozen Huntsmen loitering around their well-wishers.
Nora is the first to notice them, clad in a slightly oversized hot-pink t-shirt that's hanging off of her right shoulder, revealing a black bra-strap with their teams emblems in a diamond pattern arrayed on the shirts front with 'living legends' scrawled from her covered shoulder down to the opposite hip under that, and a pair of faded denim capris, she nudges Ren and stands up from the bench they'd been sitting on. "Get out there and break some legs, Boss!" She crows.
Two of the guys working security turn to glare unamused at the most bombastic member of his Peerage, while the other four are still paying attention to him and Pyrrha, three of them groaning and handing wads of lien off to the fourth.
Ren stands up, plain black polo with 'JNPR' embroidered over its breast pocket and plain, dark blue-jeans far more subdued than his girlfriend's showing of team spirit. "Nora, maiming their opponents during a live broadcast would go against the spirit and rules of the Festival." He taps Nora's nose before pulling her into his side with one arm, shifting just enough to make the pair of pennants with their Team's Emblems on them he has in his back pocket visible. "Breaking their spirits, however..."
Pyrrha shakes her head, clearly amused. "It will take more than another loss to me to break Raye and Onyx's spirits, but we appreciate the sentiment."
Nora's pout is just about the fakest he's seen on her but–Dad clears his throat and wipes at the bottom right corner of his lip while making direct eye-contact with Jaune–he wipes at his mouth, and when he spots the streak of red that is on the back of his hand the chuckle at his Peerage's antics dies on his lips.
Jaune can feel the blush that had been fading when he and Pyrrha left the locker room roaring back to life as one of his three younger sisters steps in front of Dad.
Jade is, as usual, wearing one of his old t-shirts, a light gray one welcoming everyone to the Gun Show with the text sprawled across its front. It's a bit big on her, and between that and the cut for an athletic young man being a bit off from what most would consider 'flattering' on a fit young woman it disguises any of her assets that most people would find flattering on her.
Which is a good thing, considering that he is very aware of how good a pair of leggings can look on a girl who works out.
He doubts that getting kicked off of Amity for 'beating the crap out of creeps for ogling my little sister' would go over well with most of the people he has meetings with... or festival goers expecting him to fight in a match soon. Jade absently runs a hand through her hair before crossing her arms behind her head. "And remember, if you don't burn through at least as much Aura as Pyrrha out there, you owe me an introduction to the guy who got you that invite to Tartarus Academy."
"Huh? When did I agree to that?"
Jade's smile goes from the sort of innocent look most people expect when they hear the term 'little sister' to one that's downright predatory as soon as Jaune finishes his response. Between that, the eager fire in her eyes, and her aggressive hairstyle, undercut on the right side, and pulled into a low pony-tail that goes just past her shoulder-blades she looks downright wolfish. "Just now."
Jaune lets out an exasperated groan. He really should know better than that by now. Jade has been nailing him with bait-and-switches like that almost since she started talking.
Dad lets out the most fake, stereotypical groan of pain Jaune's ever heard. He then staggers back a few steps, clutching his hands over his heart and doubles over for good measure. "The youngest of my children to follow in my footsteps is too good for her old man's training!"
"Wha…?" Jade squawks, looking over at Dad as Nora starts to snicker, Pyrrha 'politely' hides her smile behind her hand and Jaune rolls his eyes. The tiniest of smiles twitches across Ren's lips as he watches silently from Nora's side. "It's just that Jaune is-'' The sibling she'd went to with scraped knees and bruises and all the other 'little' things that parents of eight weren't always around for, or had the time to help with. Not too long after the scrapes and bruises you'd expect from a young tomboy had evolved into sore muscles from training and nervous questions about workout routines, Jade had openly admitted to him how much she looks up to him for breaking family tradition by getting training of his own as opposed to something from Dad during one of his 'summer breaks'. Of course she wants to train like he did too. "I mean, I thought that with how strong he got at that–" Dad staggers back further with each aborted sentence. "Err, I mean..."
Typical Jade, a complete mess when it comes to actually expressing emotion…
Jaune shakes his head, reaches over and ruffles Jade's hair. Still stuttering and blushing deeper and deeper, Jade throws his arm away from her head. If this were a comic book, she'd just be able to spar with Dad and he'd miraculously 'get' what she means and wants, but since this is reality, he decides to throw her a bone. "He's not even at the festival, Jade. Sairaorg's been too busy with work lately to give any recommendations that his former students might have for him the attention they deserve anyways."
His little sister's head snaps away from Dad and her eyes–a near mirror of his own–lock onto him. The determined fire in her eyes flickers to indignation at that. "Oh come ON! That's the same lame excuse you've been giving me for the last two years!" Jade starts stomping towards him with openly sinister intent. Not that she can physically threaten him, or really wants to, he thinks; but like all of the Arc siblings she does know enough of his secrets to make him squirm if she wants to.
Jaune raises his hands disarmingly but Pyrrha takes a few steps forward to intercept his sister. "How about after we're through to the next round, I can give you some pointers during my rest day tomorrow as a consolation prize?"
Jade freezes up, and her cheeks go pink at that.
Now that Jaune thinks about it, she really had a lot of Pumpkin Pete's merch that wasn't pilfered from his closet after he'd grown out of it, or replaced it with something newer and...
Okay, yeah, he was kind of an idiot, in hindsight.
As Jade, still blushing, starts rapidly nodding her head in agreement, one of the Huntsmen on guard duty steps forward, clearing his throat. "As much as we're all enjoying the free show, we really do need to give those two their once-over so they can get to the arena." When both Jaune and Pyrrha turn to look at him, but don't move to let him do so, the guy shrugs. "Just a pat-down and a quick check to make sure your Aura levels match the norms established in the last round and Beacon earlier this year."
"We... didn't have to do that for the last round?" Jaune prompts dumbly, not really sure where this is-
"Your old man also didn't call in a favor to get into the locker room with you for the last round." The Huntsman, who Jaune is now starting to vaguely recognize replies. "Solus Arc might not be as big of a deal as, say Qrow Branwen or Summer Rose–Brothers rest her soul–but people do still talk about him and the stuff his team got up to every now and then."
The second guy who hadn't been betting steps up next to the de facto leader of the little security detail tasked to their locker room for this round, and jerks his head up towards the CCT camera pointed down at them. "And as good as Amity's cyber-security is, none of us need the scandal we'd get caught up in from the wrong person getting past it and plucking the recording of us bending the rules so blatantly and not doing so much as a cursory check that there was no funny business going on."
Jaune shrugs, Pyrrha nods and the two older Huntsmen quickly check them over, and both of their Scrolls ping as they link with the students for long enough to compare their current Aura levels to whatever's on file. Jaune nods. "That's fair. I haven't given Pyrrha's manager a reason to call me and scream yet, and I'd kind of like to keep it that way." The more talkative of the two steps forward and gives both of them a quick, professional pat-down.
Well, he's pretty sure it's professional.
Nothing seems off to him, from the one truncated course on dealing with criminals Professor Port had given them interspersed with not-at-all disguised references to certain teams' extracurricular activities having forced him to move that lesson up from the month on the topic he normally gives towards the end of his students Sophomore year.
The fact that Pyrrha has her hand held over her mouth and is audibly gigling for the whole time doesn't exactly fill him with hope or confidence, however.
By the time the second guy's Scroll lets out a cheery little 'all clear' chirp, and the four jokers are done messing around the lead Huntsman on guard duty steps back and nods. "Looks like everything checks out. Now you two get out there and kick some ass. It's only fair that at least one Arc gets a solid win this week."
Jaune pauses mid-step. "Huh?"
Dad gives him an easy smile and shrug. "Qrow roped me into having a spar with Taiyang so one of his new buddies can see what it looks like when a pair of seasoned Huntsmen go at it. And now that that blond bruiser's done shaking the rust off putting uppity brats who just got their licenses in their place, he's ready for that." He pauses and tugs his flannel smooth and re-centers his belt so his Emblem–a bronze disk in the shape of a waxing gibbous moon over a chrome circle–is once again facing straight ahead. "But that's not until that rest day tomorrow. Worry about your match now, and how much fun you're gonna have watching me trounce your friend's dad in front of them later."
The sole son of the Arc household nods, and the two of them set off down the hallway to the arena proper after another quick round of well-wishes. Once they're out of earshot, Jaunee leans over towards Pyrrha. "So, Pyr, what was so funny about us getting searched?"
Pyrrha giggles again, though the sound is nearly drowned out by the increasingly loud roar of the crowd. "Oh, it wasn't that. It's just that my manager already called me to ask if I would feel comfortable getting you in touch with his counterpart at my agency's Vale office."
"In-vin-ci-ble!"
The roar is more distinct now, and clearly accompanied by the stomping of thousands of feet.
Jaune groans. "Between Beacon, the mess with Headmaster Ozpin and the..." He pauses, quickly racking his brain for some of the euphemisms for Salem he'd heard the semi-immortal, body-jumping wizard that is his headmaster's people used for Salem, "Queen, and the plans Sairaorg have for the Underworld, we aren't going to have time for another of us to start a career as a prize fighter on Remnant. In fact, erm..." Jaune trails off when he remembers just who he's talking to.
Shit. He knows that Pyrrha doesn't like what her career has turned into. But that doesn't mean he's dumb enough to think it hadn't started as something she enjoyed.
"In-vin-ci-ble!"
The roar of the crowd is getting even louder now. They'll be nearly shouting to talk soon, and here he is dithering over how best to break to his incredibly competitive under her polite demeanor that she'll probably need to give up on her outlet for that fairly soon.
Pyrrha looks sweetly back at him in the way that sends his heart aflutter. Gah, that sounded so corny, even if it was just in his head.
"Oh, I know. I told him that I'll think about it, and asked him to set up a press conference for me after I win the Tournament. He probably thinks it'll be one with you to announce your career's start, not me announcing my retirement."
"IN-VIN-CI-BLE!"
He half-stumbles for a few steps at that. Whether it's the roar of the crowd and shaking of the stadium, or the news of Pyrrha planning on retiring is the cause… Actually, He's pretty sure it's a bit of both.
Jaune is quick to recover - as best as he can at least - before asking his girlfriend, "Pyr, are you sure? I mean, I know what it's like for you now, but I also think I know you a lot better than I did at the start of the year, Pyrrha. You're either gonna go crazy without an outlet, or drive everyone else up the wall turning everything into a contest."
Pyrrha playfully shoves him, her sweet smile never leaving her face. "Jaune, a fair fight scratches that itch far better than a one-sided victory any day of the week. And between you and Sairaorg's goals, the stakes we'll be getting into for Rating Games will make it even better than just winning another Anima Cup, or whatever the most recent promotional series I was signed up for is giving to its winners to collect dust in a trophy case so my father can brag when he's entertaining guests." She pauses for a beat, then shrugs. "Besides, after talking to Rune, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to find at least a few other like-minded individuals once we move to the Underworld. I'll be fine." Pyrhha caps that statement off by reaching over to squeeze Jaunes ar just below his pauldron.
He believes her.
"IN-VIN-CI-BLE!"
"Well when you put it that way…," Jaune replies in an acquiescing tone. Pyrrha's response to that comes in the form of her reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. After a few moments of walking in relative silence, he continues "Ya know, I'm kind of surprised they don't have your walk-in song playing already."
"Vytal policy on walk-ins is pretty strict. Singles round only, Vale lets everyone get one, Atlas restricts that to Final Four only, Mistral and Vacuo are different every time they host but somewhere in between." A tournament staffer interjects, holding up a hand and keeping them from rounding the corner at the end of the hallway that will lead to the gate they're to enter through.
Pyrrha nods, not looking particularly bothered. "That doesn't stop people with the popularity and backing from finding a way to build up hype." The tables down at the Bullhead docks, all around the festival grounds and up on the colosseum proper absolutely plastered with Huntress Chic ads just handing out copies of Coco's signature shades and beret make a bit more sense, when he looks at it from that angle. "I'd be shocked if it wasn't some of my manager's people that got the chanting started."
The staffer nods, and with a crackle, Professor Port's booming voice drowns out the crowd. "And descending from the North Gate, representing the Kingdom of Mistral and Haven Academy and widely considered to be the second and third best fighters in their homelands Unrestricted Tournament Circuit are Raye Houyan and Onyx Pasang!" The Leader-class Fallen Angel in disguise–and, Brothers, is that still taking some getting used to–barks out each syllable of the former fighter's name, and drawls the latter's all together in a wide, easy flow.
"Both of them spent less than three months before they followed the reigning champion out of the U-Sixteen league into Unrestricted, maintain an average win-loss ratio between seven hundred and fifty and eight hundred and fifty, and fight–on average–more bouts in any given championship season than the rest of the top ten combined." Oobleck interjects, for once his breakneck speed of speech working in his favor as he rattles off statistics. "They are the closest thing to peers the Champion has, and the single greatest barrier to any hopeful's looking to meet her in the arena. Considering the caliber and lineage of her partner, it is my honest and unbiased opinion that we are about to witness the first proper Title Card Bout of the Fortieth Vytal Festival."
"And speaking of opponents, ascending from the South Gate, representing the Kingdom of Vale, it's Beacon Academies own Invincible Couple!"
The crowd's wordless roar descends back into the steady, four-count chanting of 'Invincible' as Phanuel–Port–stretches out the last word of his cry in what is easily the most stereotypical move an announcer can make.
The staffer holds up ten fingers and starts slowly lowering them one at a time.
Jaune leans over to Pyrrha, "Invincible Couple?"
Pyrrha shrugs in a 'what can you do' sort of way, clearly resigned as she answers, "Between you hijacking the cover of every tabloid on Remnant at the end of our last date, and how clearly dominant your leadership made the Team during the last round, you're a person of interest to the combat sports community now. I doubt that there is a single publicly available recording of you fighting that hasn't been gone over with a fine-tooth comb by every Coach, Trainer and Book-maker in the industry by now."
The staff guy reaches zero and waves them on as the chanting grows even louder. Jaune and his girlfriend continue on, the blond operating more-or-less on autopilot as he works to process what she'd just told him. Pyrrha gives him a sympathetic, understanding smile. "A few of the message-boards that professionals frequent even have bounties up for any verifiable footage of you."
That... honestly isn't very much–probably some of the joint training sessions they'd done with Team RWBY at the start of the year in the public outdoor rings, a few snippets from the short videos some of their classmates like to send their friends and family when they get a 'how's it going' sort of text during a mock mission out into the Emerald Forest or Forever Fall, shaky-cam footage from The Breach as well as whatever security cameras had picked up then and during their other missions when they didn't need to sanitize the area afterwards–if it weren't for the Arc family tradition of training family up for the Academies from home rather than sending them to a Combat School his skill level would be pretty suspicious, honestly.
Jaune looks over at her as they start walking. "Really, all that for me? I'm just a… a…"
Brow furrowed, Pyrrha gently thumps Miló against his shield. "Jaune..." Her tone is admonishing.
The sole male of the Arc brood shakes his head. "No, no, sorry! It's just, for over half a decade I was seen as just a reincarnated Pawn in the Underworld, and I only took one of them to be reincarnated as far as most Devils were concerned. Just another one of Sairoarg Bael's quote-unquote "charity cases" with some 'lesser' Sacred Gear, you know? Some things are harder to get out of your head than others." Pyrrha nods, a noncommittal hum passing her lips.
Before he can start to dwell too much on the past, they're out into the bare arena.
The entire crowd is up on their feet, stomping them and chanting, Beacon Academy banners and posters centered around Pyrrha scattered heavily throughout, with two notable exceptions.
The first is the broad swath of the crowd aggressively waving pennants with Team JNPR's emblems stretching down from his family's sky-box and centered around where Team RWBY and Rias' Peerage are sitting in the crowd. Ravel is towards the edge of that crowd, flanked by the Knight and Rook that had been allowed to leave Riser's Peerage for Lady Phenex's to her left and right, all of them cheering, albeit far more calmly. Ruse and Rune are unfortunately not present, though not entirely unexpected considering who they work for.
At the head of the pro-JNPR crowd is his family's skybox, all of them wearing shirts with his emblem on it.
Dad is waving around a big white banner with Jaune's emblem emblazoned in gold on it and trimmed in the same color with tassels hanging down from its bottom hem. Jade doing the same–albeit more energetically–with an over-sized Team JNPR pennant, extra bits of metallic thread picking out embellishments based on the motifs of their emblems in complimentary colors setting it a step above the more plain ones out in the general seating as well.
Even his sister-in-law, soon to be brother-in-law and both nephews are part of the outpouring of filial support with Adrian more of a prop keeping Terra's pendant from falling to the ground as he snoozes in his moms arms, while the slightly older Obsidian is aping Jade from his perch on his mom, the second-oldest Arc daughter's back and enthusiasm for his match. It would be utterly mortifying if he hadn't been right up there doing the same for Honey and Aurora's first big moment at the Vytal, and didn't plan on being right there again doing the same for his little sister when it's her turn.
The other bastion of loyalty in the sea of Pyrrha-mania that the crowd standing and chanting under the late afternoon sun is more-or-less opposite the first he'd noticed.
A bulwark of Mistrali pride, waving Haven signs and banners around, a smaller stretch of pennants bearing the open palm made of flame and paired, curved blue swords that strongly resembles a ying-yang he can already recognize on their opponents for the match. Presumably that's where the rest of their team are sitting.
They get to the center of the arena, and the randomizers start spinning.
It isn't the grinning goofball and his dour-faced foil from the dance that are standing across from Jaune and Pyrrha as they come to a halt at the center of 'their' half of the bare steel octagon at the coliseums center, but the closest thing to peers his partner has had for years.
On the left, pale-skinned Raye is silently glowering at them, dark brown combat boots stopping halfway up his shins, form-hugging black slacks topped by a plain black belt, his vibrant, flame-red muscle-shirt tucked into the pants, and charcoal gray trench coat flapping in the late afternoon breeze. It's left–and only–sleeve ends in a wide cuff, his hand resting on the hand-and-a-half hilt of his Jian. The right side of the coat doesn't have so much as a trace of the sleeve, as it had been custom made for him.
Jaune's seen the ugly, gnarled mass of scar-tissue at the end of the shaggy-haired teen's shoulder in the locker room a few times. Apparently, he'd burnt the limb off in a training accident not long after he'd unlocked his Semblance, and by the time his family could afford a prosthetic, he was used to living without the limb.
Across from him, Onyx is going through a light set of katas with his paired falchions, his oily black hair pulled into a high topknot, sides shorn clean aside from the stripe of hair. That, combined with his deeply tanned complexion would make for intimidating visage, if it weren't for the wide grin on his face. He slows to a stop, baggy seafoam gray slacks taking a moment to still as he does also concealing what sort of boots he is wearing under them, the powder blue t-shirt above them would be hanging loose if it weren't for the freshly oiled black harness holding his blades scabbards at the small of his back, a pair of broad and pointed set pauldrons bearing his Emblem on his shoulders and a dozen different attachment points that are probably intended for gear when in the field that Jaune can see. Rounding out their second opponent's combat kit is a pair of leather vambraces in the same color as his harness, and just as recently maintained with pointed tips that nearly reach his elbows at the rearmost point.
Still grinning, Onyx locks eyes with Pyrrha, "Looks like we finally found a big enough venue for me to take you down at."
Pyrrha plants the hand holding Miló on her hip, and cocks it to the side in a way that would have had Jaune staring if it weren't for their audience. "You sound awfully confident of that, Onyx. I wonder where that confidence is coming from?" Her rebuttal is rather casual, more teasing than mean-spirited. Not that he'd expect something purposely cruel to pass from her lips in most situations.
The first randomizer locks into place as the roar of the crowd and the droning of the pair of professors-turned-announcers fade away. A light blue, craggy stretch of land with what looks like scrub shrubbery dusting it. Tundra then.
Onyx glibly retorts, "While you were spending the last few months getting your boy-toy up to snuff, I was able to spend the whole time training without you breathing down my back and figuring out my new tricks as I come up with them."
Pyrrha briefly makes eye contact with Jaune, and tilts her head at the chatterbox.
Smirking, Jaune nods.
If his Queen wants to put the other teen in his place, he doesn't have a reason to deny her. As long as she holds back to a believable level of growth since her last match as far as the general public can see that is. "Is that so?" Pyrrha murmurs back at Onyx as she slowly turns back toward him. More like a cat eyeing a rat than a young woman, Jaune can almost swear that she'd purred through her retort.
Pyrrha's eyes take in her rival from top to bottom, and Jaune revises his assessment. She isn't a cat preparing to toy with a rodent, but a spider that just noticed a fresh morsel falling into her web. It's the tiny smile on her face, and the gleam in her eyes that makes the difference.
Raye shakes his head and lets out a light 'tch' before elbowing his partner's gut. "As if any of us would really accept a doubles match as a clean win over Pyrrha."
The redhead in question nods, falling back into her usual ready stance behind Akoúo̱, her weapon resting in one of the shields cut-outs in its spear form as Ray draws his Jian, and Jaune falls into his own–recently modified–ready stance, right arm angled just enough that the dart launchers built into his heavy gauntlets knuckles are aimed at Raye.
While the two teens had been friendly enough at the dance, it's pretty clear to Jaune that the three prize fighters lean more towards the latter half of 'friendly rivals' than the former now. "You think the same as your buddy?" Jaune asks the one-armed warrior across from him. As the second randomizer slows to a halt.
Floating boulders; a skirmish in the islands between Solitas and Anima it is then.
Raye works his blade in a tight loop of a flourish as the terrain deploys. "I didn't get to where I am by underestimating my opponents. If you'd spent the year riding her sash, it would be one of her other teammates out here with the three of us and not you."
Bare, pale green grass and hardy looking shrubs clinging lowly to the ground, with the occasional swath of light gray stone, lightly dusted with snow. A handful of boulders large enough to take cover behind are scattered widely across the otherwise open field.
Then dozens more rocks rise up from the ground, scattering just as many sinkholes across the arena.
Maybe half of the floating boulders are big enough for one of them to stand on, while the smallest are maybe the size of a baseball, though most are at least big enough to kick off from or serve as a handhold, with the tallest being twice Jaune's height from the ground at their bottom edge, and the lowest at roughly the height of his chest.
Onyx is the last to fall into his ready stance, side-on to Pyrrha, his blades held wide and horizontally, leaving his chest–apparently–wide open. Pyrrha notices something, her eyes shooting open for a moment before her smile goes wider. "You finally replaced your blades I see."
Any possible retort is quashed by the pair of Haven students darting towards Jaune and Pyrrha. Jaune fires off a pair of gravity darts from Mandatus at Raye, the first goes wide, digging out a shallow crater as its rune-enhanced Dust payload goes off.
The second clips the teen's short ribs.
Maybe it's momentum, maybe the other teen's missing arm has shifted his center of gravity more than Jaune had predicted, but it isn't enough to knock him down, or even redirect him by much. Either way, he's easily able to catch the other teen's opening slash on his shield.
Jaune steps into the other teen's assault, countering with a quick slash of his own, which Raye avoids with a quick side-step, his jian sliding across Jaune's shield. The side-step shifts into a backpedal and Jaune's sword slashes through the space Raye had just occupied. When he slashes with his sword again, it too bites air, an arc of flame spewing from its lead edge. What would have been an overbalance from Jaune's miss is turned into a low, diving roll that–barely–keeps him underneath the Dust-based attack.
Jaune comes up in a low crouch just in time to see Onyx and Pyrrha's first clash. The other Mistrali fighter opens up just as aggressively as his partner, though his slash is caught on Akoúo̱. Pyrrha counters with a couched jab from Miló, which her foe bats aside with his second falchion, swiftly turning the block into a slash that's on course to sail over Pyrrha's shields and into the side of her head. She leans back, which shifts into a full back-flip and toe kick.
Onyx leans out of the kicks path, and Pyrrha shifts her spear into its xiphos form as she completes her rotation. As soon as both feet are on the ground she's charging Onyx, her modified hoplon and xiphos ringing out nearly a dozen times against his paired falchions in as many seconds, the two of them circling and pressing back and forth against each other as they do so.
He's pretty sure they're moving too quickly for around half of the civilians in the stadium to be able to follow. Or at least their weapons are.
Jaune returns his gaze to his opponent just in time to see him settle into a stance that more-or-less matches Weiss usual 'ready' stance–albeit without the trailing arm for balance–then smirk at him.
Raye's trigger-finger twitches, and Jaune barely–at the level he's holding himself to at least–has time to hunker behind his shield. Jaune starts advancing, slowly so as not to needlessly get himself singed rather than the fire having any weight or that much force behind it, on his target.
Jaune tries launching a few ice darts from Mandatus downrange, which is about as effective as he'd expected it to be. Even backed by magic, the Dust payload is too small. At least he knows where the emitter on his foes weapon is now. Maybe he can freeze it over between attacks?
Raye starts backpedaling at the same rate Jaune is advancing, and Jaune bites back a curse. Not that he'd really expected one of the Invincible Girl's contemporaries to be dumb enough to let Jaune just walk up to him mid-battle. Still, it makes things more difficult.
After another half-dozen steps he's starting to sweat, and his shield is starting to light up a dull orange. He raps on its outer edge three times in rapid succession, pauses for a beat then hits it one last time. Pyrrha turns to face him just as he lines his shot up, and she smirks.
There's a head-sized rock floating directly between him and where she and Raye are dueling, a quick tilting of his body and re-adjustment of where Crocea Mors is resting on his shield-arm–as much to brace as to aim–and a twitch of his finger sends a Gravity-Dust loaded, runically enhanced dart zipping towards the uneven lump of stone and Gravity Dust.
The dart connects with a sharp retort and an ultraviolet flash of unlight, and the stone launches forwards even faster than the dart had been traveling. Pyrrha hops back, and less than half a heartbeat later Raye's eyes bug out and he throws himself back and to the side, landing in an uncontrolled tumble.
Pyrrha hops up to one of the lower, smaller floating boulders as the ballistic stone pulverizes itself against the coliseum's hard-light shields and Jaune resumes his advance, the core of his shield now a worryingly bright shade of orange. His Queen has Miló shifted into its rifle form by the time she's halfway to her target boulder, her arms and legs spread to just so.
Pyrrha slams into the rock, which is just small enough for her to hold herself to it by her elbows and knees while maintaining a passable enough prone firing position.
Just as Onyx stands up, Pyrrha opens fire on him. Her first three shots he blocks on his falchion's flats before her fourth and fifth catch him center-mass and send him stumbling again. Port shouts something about 'tried and true' but Jaune is barely paying attention to the announcers, and hardly even aware that the crowd is making noise.
A clod of dirt kicks up from near Raye's lead foot from a near miss.
A stone a ways off behind him sparks as a divot is blasted out of it.
Then his head snaps to the right, his Aura dipping noticeably on the screen way off behind him, and the deluge of flame finally stops as the hit sends him stumbling.
Grinning, Jaune kicks off at a sprint towards Raye, pumping his arms wider than he usually lets them in an attempt to cool his shield down as quickly as possible.
The one-armed teen stumbles two more times from being hit by Pyrrha before Jaune has the distance closed, and immediately launches into an all-out assault. His initial thrust is adroitly parried, and the following shield-punch leaned away from just enough for Raye to couch his arm and respond with a thrust of his own, which Jaune catches on the thick steel plate covering Mandatus' dart magazines.
He replies with a back-handed swing from Crocea Mors that Raye is barely able to sidestep, the arm of his trenchcoat being sliced open by Crocea Mors' tip. Jaune follows up with a straight shield-punch that Raye barely avoids with a crouching downwards pivot.
The familiar chatter of automatic gunfire–albeit a touch lower than the truly familiar drone of Ren's Storm Flowers–catches Jaune's attention for just long enough for him to see Pyrrha hunkered down behind Akoúo̱. On the ground below her Onyx is sprinting towards him and Raye, his left-hand falchions blade canted back a solid twenty degrees, and its rounded guard opened up into a set of supports both bracing immobilizing his wrist and forearm, a barrel protruding just over and beyond his trigger finger.
Either the round's caliber, Dust load, or a combination of the two was enough to get Pyrrha's elevated firing position tumbling end over end, and prevent her from avoiding the stray shots that happen to be actually headed at her when the angle is right.
Jaune's momentary distraction is almost immediately punished by Raye, who whips his tailing leg around into an impressive rising toe-kick that would have caught him square in the temple had he not shifted to look at how his partner is doing. It still manages to graze his shoulder and clip his forehead, and he is barely able to get his shield up in time to catch the follow-up flying knee on it.
The fact that Jaune's Aura dips more from having hot steel driven back into his arm than Raye's does from driving his knee into said steel with enough force to deform it either speaks to a semblance that has something to do with fire, or an aggressively flame-retardant combat outfit.
Moments later, his foe's blued-steel blade is arcing down towards the crown of his head. Jaune catches the overhand strike on Crocea Mors flat, his vision all but dominated by his own fists and weapons with how close to his head they are.
Grinning, he drives both limbs straight forward, and in an impressive display of timing, core strength and coordination Raye pivots along the point where their blades are connected and over Jaune's head instead of letting himself be sent on a ballistic course towards the arena's edge.
Maybe he shouldn't have picked a level so far from his actual full potential to hold himself back to for this round.
Three trios of dust-clouds kick up between Jaune and Raye in as many seconds, forcing them to maintaining their distances, and letting Raye–who is displaying the sort of speed, flexibility and agility that Jaune has only recently started expecting from Blake and Weiss–to reset his stance. The glance is just enough for Jaune to spot the tanned Mistralians right blade 'deployed' its barrel longer and bracing more intricate than the once again collapsed left falchions had been, and then a crimson and bronze blur flashes past him.
The blur promptly resolves into Pyrrha landing in a crouch that digs up a long divot in the shallow dirt and stone of the faux tundra, baring a decent strip of the steel beneath. Miló, in its spear form is fully extended, held by its back third, a scrap of seafoam gray fabric impaled on its tip, and a small leather strap falling from the spearhead's edge.
As Onyx' topknot falls loose–his hair now looking just as shaggy, albeit longer than his partners–Jaune and Pyrrha are able to make eye contact. His Queen–grinning like a madwoman–nods at him before throwing all of her body-weight back towards her target along her shield arm. She releases Akoúo̱ which almost immediately begins spinning like a buzzsaw blade as she launches the modified hoplon in his direction.
For a second time in the match Onyx's eyes bug out, and he is–barely–able to shift his right blade out of its firing configuration in time to cross his blades nearly parallel to each other and slap the shield out of his path.
The shield bounces off of one boulder as Onyx is sent spinning from the deflected momentum. It ricochets off a second as he completes his second rotation, arms now flung wide from the inertia as Pyrrha finishes rising to face him.
The shield–barely–misses Onyx as it darts past him, and he slaps it with his left falchions flat, sending it on a collision course with Jaune. He drops to his back, holding his own shield at what he hopes will be a believable height for deflection and protection.
Akoúo̱ pulses black once as Pyrrha starts charging her still disoriented foe. It clangs against Jaune's unnamed sheath-shield, transfering enough momentum to turn his body to the left and ease his returning to his feet. Halfway through the motion Akoúo̱ pulses black a final time before caroming off of Raye's stump-shoulder, spilling him to the ground before it embeds itself into the concrete in the well of the arena's 'out of bounds' area just below the hard-light emitters.
Jaune points Mandatus' barrels at Passang, two fingers twitching as rapidly as he can get them to in order to empty his Ice and Lightning Dust darts in the other teenager's general direction. Raye, half-risen and looking more than a bit panicked, levels his jian at Jaune, and his entire fist clenches around its grip.
For a moment, Jaune is able to see the extended hilts Dust reservoir drain at a rate he would have expected to see from Myrtenaster employing the same tactics the one-armed teen had used earlier in the match before a veritable wall of fire rushes forth to greet him.
Tongues of flame lick at his clothes, his legs, everything that so much as inches beyond his shield as he continues to barrel towards the mostly-prone Mistralian. "-cible Couple's gamble freeze the flow? Or will the ebb shatter Vale's best hope for a championship in the fortie-" For a moment, Phanuel's cover's boisterous alternate persona's voice cuts through the crackling of flame and roaring crowd.
Then he's through.
Onyx has just left the ground, his sword's Dust reservoir empty, and angled a bit high. Either that, or Jaune had slipped on a patch of grass-turned-soot and is a bit low.
A tap of his middle knuckle to the tiny rune etched into the shield's backside turns the rivets holding the leather straps keeping the piece of equipment lashed to his arm are burnt away into a spattering of slag. Shield now only held to his arm by inertia, he slashes it through Raye's legs, the overheated metal searing the treated fabric and turning the other teen's lunge into an uncontrolled tumble before Jaune's nearly-ruined shield is also sent spinning away from them.
Mandatus connects with the more slender man's sternum, and a point-blank Gravity Dust dart bounces him off of the dirt below them. Jaune meets the other teen's forehead with his own, sending him back into the dirt. Jaune's now free shield-arm pins Raye's wrist to the soot above him, his right knee presses the other man's stump of a shoulder into the ground, and he buries his sword into the dirt, stone and then steel next to Raye's head.
Either Ozma or, more likely, Phanuel–or heck one of the Devil Kings in attendance–have people in place who can cover for the slight over-showing of his strength. Maybe.
Probably…
Hopefully. Whatever. Not his problem right now.
He looks up just in time to see Pyrrha taking apart Raye–who is still mostly iced over, to the arena floor and twitching as arcs of electricity play across his body from the non-frozen darts protruding from him–as much with short slashes from the back third of her xiphos as she is with Northern Mistrals local variation on pankration.
The droning tone of the arena's Aura-out buzzer is just enough to snap him back into proper focus, and barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Bastard of both Brothers–I yield, dammit!" Onyx grits out in a half-wheeze. Right, it's kinda hard to breathe when you've got someone your size kneeling on your chest.
The roaring four-count cadence might have only been for Pyrrha while they were walking in, but as the two of them hold their clasped hands aloft at center-stage, he can tell that it's for both of them now.
Everything following feels… rote.
Port and Oobleck's speculation on whether him or Pyrrha will be moving on as they officially announce the winners is just for show. Raye and Onyx' handshakes and congratulations feel earnest enough, but are still just what's expected.
Sure, both of them slip their agents' cards into his hand with the gesture, but with how the fight had gone, he'd have been insulted by anything less. The invite to spar with them as a peer, if their inflection wasn't a farce was flattering, and a hell of an opportunity. He might be spoiled for choices now but there's no telling when that might change with how tumultuous things are looking back home in the Underworld.
Well, how tumultuous they're looking to someone with an inside line to what's happening like him.
As the crowd slowly goes quiet as Jaune and Pyrrha make their way back to the lockers, Jaune can't help but feel content. Sure, there's political bullshit he has to deal with. And sure there's a lot more going on in the world than he'd thought there was a few months ago, but overall, things are looking up, and to be well under control of his bosses and their people.
Pyrrha finally breaks the comfortable silence they'd fallen into after being declared the winners about halfway through the two of them stripping down to shower off. "So, Jaune. What exactly did your dad mean when he mentioned next week?"
Jaune shrugs, stretches his sword-arm some then lets his sore-as-hell shield arm rest limply as he ambles over to the locker-room's gang shower. "Oh, that's when Aurora's wedding is." He picks the shower head on the back wall, and cranks the hot water all the way up. "She just got back to me this morning that my invite had been expanded to the whole Team; apparently her wedding planner was getting kinda pushy about her messing with the seating arrangement this close to the ceremony. I'd have told you this morning but that would have messed with your routine, and it's not like it's my fault Aurora came off as a total bridezilla to her planner asking to change the seating arrangement this close to the ceremony! I'm sorry." The antibacterial all-in-one body wash/shampoo smells almost acrid, and is pretty abrasive, but it gets the job done, and he's more-or-less finished cleaning up by the time he's done explaining things.
"I see…" Is Pyrrha's less than enthusiastic response before she takes in a low, deep breath, then breathes out.
After nearly a minute of nothing but the sound of water washing over the two of them, she finally replies. "Thank you for waiting to tell me. It might be tight, but I should be able to pick something out for myself and Nora by then." He shuts his showerhead off, and with a truly herculean display of self control turns so that his eyeline doesn't get him a quick peek at his still showering girlfriend as he moves towards the shower's exit, their towels and lockers.
"Glad to hear." Jaune quips as Pyrrha shuts off her shower head. "I mean, I hope things don't get too crazy, but…"
Jaune quickly and efficiently towels off, and starts dressing. Moments later, just after he'd pulled his boxers on to be specific, a scratchy gym-towel presses up against his back, and two impossibly smooth arms–and that is totally the only pair of things he's paying attention to right now–snake around his neck. "It's been almost a year, Jaune. I know how to handle Nora. Your family, however…"
"Already love you. They're just giving you the business."
Really. Leader of this year's Vytal Festival's champion team, knocking elbows with the real movers and shakers of the Supernatural World, building one hell of a Peerage. All things look like they're coming up Jaune Arc, and for Remnant in general.
As the professors start hyping up Coco and her teammate while he and Pyrrha make their way back to the stands Jaune lets an easy smile cross his face.
Sure, things are a bit stressful, but everything's going great, and all signs are pointing to them staying that way.
No, this isn't the pair of scenes that got shuffled away from the last chapter. Yes, this chapter grew from one scene to it's own thing, but I didn't craft my own variation on the Arc family, Pyrrhas rivals, or, well, any of the OC's in this fic without reason or to never use them (yes, even the totally-not-redshirts that frequently die badly and/or sadly near the protags have a minimum ammount of planning and backstory to make their time (I hope) if not memorable then at least impactful).
Loved it? Hated it? Just absolutely pumped for spooktober, scary movies and the start of the best season of the year? Drop me a review about it!
Beta'd by MasterPrince713 and Hybrid Theory
Cover art by Icario