His eyes gradually opened halfway, his vision blurry. The sun had begun to set, turning the sky a lovely orange color. For a brief moment, he would lie motionless, gazing up at the sky.

For another, he would raise his hand to the sky and simply stare. This view of the sky, this...beauty. By this point, it had become ingrained in his mind.

"So, you going to lay there the whole time, or are you going to get up so we can make some progress?"

His peaceful awakening had been interrupted by his father's gruff voice, as it always was. For the past four years, this had been a common sight in Tin's local training fields.

"Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute, dad."

Jaune let his hand fall, rising into a seated position before fully standing up. He was battered and bruised everywhere - just as he had been every other day. Once he was fully standing, Jaune began to stretch his arms.

He'd been doing this every day, with no rest at any point in time. It was different and fulfilling. Ever since that fight, it was like a switch had flipped in his father.

One day he'd been bitter, angry, and filled with drive. The next, his father had told him to get up and pack - not because he was being kicked out. But because on that day, Slate had decided to take Jaune and his ambition seriously.

He would turn him into the greatest swordsman to have ever lived - even if he was not familiar with the style Jaune seemed to utilize.

This had told him that he'd succeeded, that-

That these hours he had spent beating on rocks and trees- that these hours he had spent figuring his fighting style out — that these hours he spent to replicate the blonde wonder from the water were not wasted.

That, despite his loss in the fight, he had managed to take back his position - that he managed to grasp his own-

Jaune sat there in awe of the boulder split in two. He had done that? Him?

Jaune? Jaune Arc?

He was the one to split this in half so…perfectly? So cleanly?

Was this his time? Had he finally succeeded? Was it finally time for him to prosper?

To stand head and shoulders above his generation? Was it time for him to reclaim his -

Destiny?/Destiny?

And indeed it was.

In the distance, from beyond the flow of time, he calls - Arise, Pillar of Water.

Jaune had long since abandoned the concept of armor. Not because he believes his Aura to be impermeable, but because it would hamper his movements. Something Jaune had found while learning his sword style was that it worked best unhampered — it worked best without any armor at all increasing his weight. So, Jaune decided to keep it light. Just a plain, white shirt, joggers, and a Haori with a blue and black pattern to top it off. The Haori had just felt right. The moment he saw it — he knew he needed to get it. He felt a longing to wear it, It just felt right.

The reason Jaune was all dressed up was that today his father would take him out to get a weapon. His father had said he knew a capable blacksmith nearby, and that he would contract him to create their weapon of choice. So today, Jaune was meant to go and check out the weapons.

"Jaune! Are you ready yet!? If you aren't ready within the next minute, I'm leaving alone!"

Ah, right. There was no time for idle thought. His father was an impatient man.

"I'm coming! Give me a second!"

Jaune quickly put on his shoes and left his house, seeing his dad in his car, with the car having already started. In record time, Jaune was in the passenger seat and ready. His father nodded to him in approval but chose to stay silent. His father had then put the car in drive, and went.

Jaune had pondered on what type of sword he'd get while on the way. His father had told him that the practice shortsword wasn't suited to him - so he had no idea what type of sword to get. He knew it had to be a sword at the very least…but that was it.

If he couldn't get a shortsword, maybe a longsword? No, that wouldn't work with his style. Perhaps maybe he could daggers? No, those weren't swords. Maybe a Claymore? No, not likely. Same problem as the longsword. He had a feeling that none of these would work - not that he found any of them uncool. What was the common issue here…? Perhaps it was that they were all simply the wrong length, or maybe it was that they were one-handed…it was always just that something about them was off.

He looked out the window, wishing for inspiration to strike him from the sight of speeding along the road, flying by buildings. He idly watched the buildings go by, occasionally reading the name of whatever restaurant, barbershop, or whatever it was that he would spot. Then, while passing by a shop, something caught his attention. He had only seen it for a moment, but it was a slightly curved blade. It wasn't sharp or anything, clearly meant to be a toy.

'Curved..? Why does that feel right?'

He had no idea why, but the emotions that shape had invoked within him — they were feelings so strong they threatened to spill out of his heart. His face shifted into a grimace, and a sense of longing so strong hit him that he could no longer think. He was overcome by emotions, and he could only hope to endure them until they no longer ate at his soul.

Luckily, they had arrived. They had stopped in front of a small, square building. At the top of the building, neon red lights would spell out 'Redwood Metalworks'. Redwood had been his father's good friend and the main supplier of his fathers' teams' weapons.

"Come on, unbuckle your seatbelt. We're going in. Once we walk in, you'll look over the different swords he has on display. Let's go."

Jaune and his father had gotten out of the car, and walked into the smithy. Jaune's eyes were immediately drawn to the swords section, but he stood by his father. They still had to greet the owner, after all.

A tall man — so tall he towered over even Slate himself, with muscles so large that his mere biceps were the size of Jaune's head had stood by a counter. Though he had a rather scary visage, his father was friendly with him, and that reduced how threatening he looked. His father and Redwood met eyes, and a smile formed on both.

"Jaune, why don't you go check out what sword you'd like while I chat with a friend?"

Jaune nodded and did as asked. He went towards the swords section - a wall with a large assortment of swords, clearly marked by the wooden 'Swords' sign hung at the top. There, he found several interesting swords he'd never even considered. A hook sword, a cutlass - heck, he even saw a scimitar. None of these felt right, though. He had no idea what was wrong with these — but none of them rang true when he tried to answer the longing he felt just before. Uninterested in the batch, Jaune edged somewhat closer to listen in on his father.

"It's been a while, Arc! Haven't seen you in damn near a decade!"

"I haven't needed a weapon for a while. I've been busy."

"I'll say, I can't believe you never introduced me to your son! I thought we were closer than that, Arc!"

"It's nothing personal, please understand. You know how many enemies I've got."

"What, enemies that the 'great' Slate Arc can't take? You know damn well there's damn near nobody who fits that description."

"My son isn't me. He can't do what I can."

Hearing that was more than enough for Jaune, and he immediately went back to browsing. What his father said had rung true. Too true.

Hurtful, but true. Jaune knew. He knew firsthand that he couldn't be like his dad. He'd failed at damn near every Arc-sourced technique, where his sisters flourished. The only thing he had, was a sword style he'd learned from hallucinating at a river. So of course Jaune knew - of course, he knew he never could.

It hurt to acknowledge, though. Even if he knew, he never truly wanted to acknowledge it. But he could ignore that for today. Today, he chose his sword. His lifelong companion. Today he made a choice.

He continued browsing through the swords, each one giving off a terrible vibe — all feeling wrong. That is until he found this one particular blade. It was a curved, single-edged blade with a long grip. It had called to him. No, it had shouted for him. This was the one.

"Dad! I figured out what sword I want!"

"Really? What did you like best?"

His dad had paused, turning to look at Jaune standing by the Katana. Certainly, it might work. As far as Slate knew, this sword somewhat matched Jaune's style of fighting. A Katana was designed to have a powerful draw, and was viewed as a more niche weapon in today's day and age on Remnant, but for someone who fought like Jaune?

It seemed perfect. Too perfect. That was why he had to test it out first.

Slate turned to Redwood, "Hey, is it fine if Jaune over here has a test run with the Katana? Just a slash or two and he'll put it back."

"As long as you don't destroy any property, I won't charge you to merely test a sword."

Slate walked over to Jaune, and grabbed the Katana, handing it to Jaune.

"Jaune, try out your…what was it called again? 'Water Slash'? With this Katana, okay?"

"It's Water Surface Slash!"

Jaune had grabbed the Katana and had begun to position himself. He faced the most empty part of the shop and began to fall into his usual stance.

He let his right foot slide forward, his knees bending and he began to lean forward. His Aura came to life around him, and he began to truly Breathe, his whole body augmenting to levels of power he'd normally never achieve, and he brought his katana to his side. And with a step, he launched.

As soon as his left foot hit the ground, he let his blade come forward. Trailing it was the greatest amount of water he'd produced yet, following the path of his blade.

'Water Surface Slash!'

His blade cut the air, the water had dissipated and he came to a stop. That had been the smoothest he'd ever done it, and he was certain that if he fought his father again using this blade, he might truly score a hit! (He knew in his heart that he wouldn't but those who feel powerful are plagued by delusion.)

Slate, watching from the sidelines had come to smile. This was fantastic! Incredible, even. It was a perfect fit. This was the smoothest he'd ever seen Jaune go through the motions and it seemed to be the greatest fit for him. A moment later, he turned to Redwood.

"So, how quickly can we get a…Jaune, what color do you want the katana to be?"

That question had knocked Jaune out of his stupor.

"Blue! A Blue Katana would be the best!"

His father nodded, "Very well, how quickly can we get a blue katana?"

"A couple of weeks if you want quality. If you're looking for wooden equivalents, I can give you a few now that would weigh roughly the same."

"That'd be great, so how much do I owe you if I ask for…four wooden swords now?"

Jaune quickly tuned out all the boring adult talk and turned back to the sword in his hands. This was it. This was the answer to his longing. He had wanted a katana! Everything made more sense now, but how had he known that he'd want a katana? How'd he even feel if a sword was wrong without ever holding it?

Regardless, he had succeeded. He acquired a sword!

And thus, Jaune Arc turned 12.

Pyrrha Nikos.

The esteemed heir to Alexander Nikos, one of the greatest tournament fighters to have ever graced the earth.

"What in the world are you doing out here!? Get back to practicing your Aura Manipulation!"

Pyrrha Nikos.

The daughter of a genius. The daughter of a man who had taught himself to be better than all of his opponents.

Her fathers struck her, launching her into a wall and causing her Aura to flare. He was unsatisfied with her performance as of late and had taken to testing her ability.

"What in the world do I pay your instructors for? I pay them to make you powerful. Only for them to make you so weak?!"

He raged, and raged and raged.

"Get back up. Get up! I will fix this at once!"

She fought to stand back up, struggling onto her knees and then rising to her feet.

Pyrrha Nikos.

A prodigy. A genius. A genius among the elite. The pride and joy of Alexander Nikos.

Pyrrha Nikos.

A lonely, young girl. A girl isolated from all others - a girl taught to be above others for the simple reason that they are not on her level. A girl, who had been hoping for friends. A girl who had begged day and night for a companion.

Pyrrha.

A tortured soul, begging to be set free. Shallow relationships would take hold of her life, with training taking up all the room for meaningful friendship. No chance to have real friends. No, not because she was disallowed friendship. She was not allowed to have time for friendship.

Pyrrha.

A polite young soul, praying every day that she will find herself a meaningful relationship — one that doesn't necessarily have to be on a battlefield.

Pyrrha.

A young girl aiming to be an adventurer so that she may be able to find companionship in a partner one day.

Perhaps one day.

But for now, she is

Nikos

Genius daughter. Genius combatant. Future legend.

Chained.

And thus, Pyrrha Nikos turned 12.

Jaune did his best to follow the flow of battle ahead - in the face of the mighty and speedy blade of his father, Jaune did not have much chance. If he were to try and block every slice and slash, Jaune was certain he'd be less than dead but more than hurt.

In the interest of avoiding such, Jaune stayed true to the flow of water. It is what takes the path of least resistance, and in this case, it was the subtle adjustments he could make to his position - it was how he could shift his sword in ways that would have his father's blade shift ever so slightly.

Jaune sliced horizontally, trying to make some room. His father didn't comply, as Slate deflected the blade with his own as if it were a small bug bite. Jaune jumped back as far as he could - which was still a distance Slate could cross in a fraction of a second, but did not immediately do so out of mercy.

"Jaune! I'll be speeding up now. You know what you must do now!"

While it wasn't quite the fraction of a second he could go, Slate was still far faster than Jaune had any chance of reacting to. All Jaune had was a second to prepare - to do as he learned.

Jaune first felt for his Aura - finding it in his core, as usual. He pictured his Aura moving throughout his entire body and he pictured it seeping into his skin, muscle, and bones. He instinctively knew he was on a time limit - while his Aura capacity was large, he had relatively low Aura Density, which meant he often used more for less than others.

So he only had about five minutes in his 'total' enhancement form.

And then, he let himself breathe.

Stronger and faster than before, Jaune met his fathers' blade head-on.

Jaune kicked at his father's midsection while the blades were locked, causing him to back up a step.

Jaune quickly dashed for his father, his blade following the same trail he'd practiced for so long - one he'd only just gotten rid of a bad habit with. His sword was as sharp and steady as ever, chopping horizontally toward his father in the hopes of hitting him and earning his first victory.

'Water Surface Slash!'

'Stronger - faster - better than I was before!'

With these thoughts running through his mind, Jaune's Aura flared around him and, in a wasteful burst, doubled the initial enhancement he had applied first. Though it halved the time he could hold it, it was fine to strengthen certain attacks.

To his disappointment, his father once more had bat his blade away as if it were a joke, and in a moment his fathers' blade was upon his throat.

"Yield."

Jaune let out a sigh of disappointment at another loss.

"I yield…"

His fathers' blade quickly retreated from his throat, sliding into its sheath smoothly.

"That was a good effort, Jaune. You need to learn to maintain your 'enhancement' longer, though. It's clear that your breathing technique is creating far too much strain for your current Aura density — hey, stop ignoring me you brat!"

Of course, by this point Jaune had already zoned out once more, staring into the night sky. The stars had been so much brighter recently. It was like he was in a whole other world these days. Once more Jaune smiled, rem-

"Ouch! That wasn't cool, you OLD FART!"

"Never ignore your opponent on the battlefield…or your teacher in the training fields. Now, if you're done wasting time, get up. We have some time before we need to return home."

"Ugh, fine. You didn't have to hit me that hard though!"

"I'm enrolling you into a tournament. They won't be holding back like I am! Besides, that was nothing."

And with a grin, Jaune returned to his feet and they were locked in battle once more.

The night was still young, and Jaune Arc had many more beatings to go through.

And thus, Jaune Arc turned 14.

Pyrrha Nikos. The 'Genius'. She simply couldn't be matched — nobody in her age group was near her skill level. No amount of training would allow anyone her age to defeat her in a tournament.

This, of course, was a false narrative. It wasn't something Pyrrha could afford to let be seen through. Her father had wished so, and so it shall be done. She would not allow herself to be defeated in public so that she would not bring shame to the Nikos' name.

Though it was a life of hardship, of bruises, blood, sweat, and tears - it was the only life Pyrrha had ever known. No time for friends, no time for personal interests, it was only her talent in Aura Manifestation that was to be molded.

"Perfect Pyrrha! Well done! Your spear Manifestation was perfection in itself!"

To that, Pyrrha could only respond with a polite smile and a nod. She was in the process of practicing her Aura Manifestation — and her instructor, one of the many, many her father had hired, had been simply showering her with praise.

"Now, why don't we try your basic 'Shield' Manifestation?"

Pyrrha's only response was to begin focusing. She imagined a buckler shield strapped to her left arm and willed her aura to form an outline. Slowly, her Aura would form the outline — where she would then force her Aura to fill the outline. Slowly but surely, a buckler shield made of her Red colored Aura formed on her left arm. A little small, and a little off shape-wise.

But it was functional, and that was what mattered.

This time, her instructor did not seem satisfied. His face was twisted in a complicated matter as he looked at the buckler shield on her left arm before letting out a sigh.

"In general, the Buckler shield is well-made Pyrrha. But that is not enough, as it took you far too long to Manifest it using your Aura. Moving forward, you should probably aim to fix the shape first. Getting used to creating the shape will make it easier to form an effective shield in less time."

Pyrrha nodded. This was the first time he'd given her any criticism in a while. That meant she hadn't been focused enough. Next time, she'd be better. Faster.

"Your spear is fantastic, your shield is somewhat lacking and your sword - as always - is going to be tested last. Please, manifest an Aura Sword."

Pyrrha focused. This time, she imagined her sword - the sword she'd used to train with ever since she could walk. The outline came quickly to her mind, her Aura forming it in a mere second. Next, Pyrrha funneled aura directly into the 'outline', filling out the sword in another.

"Marvelous! Your sword is perfect, perfect! That was very well done, Pyrrha! With this, I'm sure you'll be fine in your upcoming tournament."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, let us practice some theory. Why, Pyrrha, can a person not Manifest a gun out of Aura?"

"There are two reasons - Aura is connected to the physical being. It cannot exist while disconnected, and so when not actively 'Manifested', the Aura Manifestations simply seep back into your Aura. The second is that a gun is far, far too complex to have to think up in a pinch."

The instructor smiled.

"That's correct. Well done. Why don't we continue with some theory? Once we're finished with this, this lesson will be over."

"Okay, sir."

"Knowledge is as important as strength and skill in battle. So after this tutoring session, I'm certain you'll earn a high position. Let's get to work."

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Already, she had a nickname among tournament fighters. 'Genius Girl' Pyrrha. It wasn't like she was winning tournaments, but she was slated to enter the Huntsman Trainee category which was a tier-up what was allowed for her age. That was unprecedented. It had never once happened before, due to the sheer risk it posed to the average combatant.

But Pyrrha had managed it.

Because that's what a Nikos' must do. Strive for excellence…even at the cost of your being, down to the very last shred of your soul.

And thus, Pyrrha Nikos turned 14.

Truthfully, I've been gone for so long because I lost my passion during my rework. But, I dislike that I left this story in this state. So, I'm back. I've regained a little bit of my passion, and I hope my discipline will help me keep this going.

Sorry again for all this - I never intended to leave everyone hanging like this. That's on me, and I'll take responsibility by starting this back up. Thank you if you're still reading this - and I'm sorry and I understand if you want nothing to do with this story anymore.

Peace!