Chapter 3: Unfortunate Son
"Life isn't fair, and you're lucky it isn't."
Class had managed to actually be somewhat interesting. In between his long, long, winded speeches about how great he was, Professor Port occasionally dropped a handy hint about the Grimm, either their habits or weaknesses. Hints that Robin made sure to note down in the journal he had found amidst his belongings. It had been entirely blank, so he decided to make use of it to hold all of his notes on Grimm. Then Weiss had to throw a fit and blow up half the room with dust fighting a Boarbatusk Port let loose in the classroom. Maybe he wasn't entirely there.
The only other class he had that day was a bog standard math class, of all things. Apparently, Beacon still required students to take a few of the traditional core classes. Despite the fact it was training kids to kill monsters for a living, they gotta make sure the students, most of whom would be dead or retired before thirty, knew calculus. He slept through most of that class. All in all, it was a strangely normal day, despite the subject of half of his studies being monsters bent on exterminating humanity.
Now he was in Vale itself, with a few objectives in mind. The main one was to get a new sword, and the other was to get a new wardrobe so he looked a bit less like a fucking nerd. He had never actually walked around in a city this big before, even in his prior life. It was somewhat daunting, but he was armed with his scroll's GPS and magic bullshit if he got into trouble.
It helped he was in the nicer part of the city, which would generally make him worry about the expensive shops, but apparently, Beacon provided a monthly allowance to students for them to buy school supplies, weapons, dust, and any other equipment they might need. Robin intended to abuse that as much as he could.
His first stop was to get a new weapon. While Cardin had allowed him to keep his dagger, saying something about him never really using it anyway, it wasn't exactly an ideal primary weapon to be using in a fight. Contrary to what all the nerds online thought, no one really won in a knife fight.
As he entered the weapon store, which was creatively named The Forge, Robin noted several things, only a few of which he liked. Top of the list of things he didn't like was the all-too-cheery voice of the shopkeep and a midget red-riding hood cosplayer chattering about sniper rifles or something. However, his attention was pulled away from that as he spotted something on the wall.
A sword. A ridiculously ornate and fancy-looking sword that looked like it had more of a place on a display shelf than on a battlefield. The blade was made of blueish steel going down to the hilt, which was mostly made of some metal painted a gold color. The handle was wrapped in a blue-colored leather, and the pièce de résistance, its pommel shaped like a star with a polished sapphire inlaid in it. It looked ridiculous, idiotic, and costly. Robin wanted ten of them. His less-than-expert eyes identified it as a bastard sword; the fact it was labeled as such on its price tag helped.
In his revere over the sheer magnificence of the blade before him, he entirely failed to notice a presence walk over to his side and poke him on the shoulder. He jumped in fright, and his voice most definitely did not crack as he shouted in surprise. "Step back! I'm not ready to die to a midget!"
He turned around in time to see what was, no doubt, a friendly greeting smile turned into a frown. "I'm not a midget!" Proclaimed the midget red-riding hood cosplayer, "I'm perfectly average height for my age."
On some level, he sympathized, as he, too, used to be vertically challenged. In fact, he had used the very same excuse multiple times when he was in middle school. It didn't stop him from making fun of her for it from his new six-foot height. "You don't even reach my shoulder; you can't lie to me."
The cosplayer pouted, which then quickly shifted around into a smile. "So what are you here for? Going get a new weapon? I heard from Mr. Perry that they just got a new shipment of mecha shift weapons from Atlas." She fired off words at a rapid-fire pace, and it was hard to keep up.
"Yes, I'm here for a new weapon," His eyes once more turned to the stupidly fancy sword sitting on the wall. "No, I am not getting a mecha shift weapon; mechashift technology is a scam invented by Atlas to sell more machine parts and keep hunters reliant on their industry."
She looked at him like he was a paralyzed child who said he wanted to dance. "I'm not sure that last part is true." She spoke slowly.
"It's probably not," he readily conceded. "But it could be. Anyway, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Robin Dubois. I don't think I know your name." He did, but he wasn't enough of an idiot to say that he knew.
Another smile popped onto her face; the rate at which she could go through emotions was frightening. "I'm Ruby Rose. So if you aren't getting a real weapon, what are you getting?"
Robin merely lifted his hand and pointed his finger at the most glorious sword man had ever crafted. Ruby's eyes followed his finger, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That thing? You are seriously getting that." Robin would have been more surprised if he didn't know how peculiar she was about weapons.
"Yes," Robin said.
"It's so tacky, though," Ruby complained.
"Yes." He spoke again.
"Do you take constructive criticism?" Her head tilted to the side like a curious dog.
"Not really, no." He walked to the wall, grabbing the word off of it.
"You're a bit of an asshole; you know that?"
"I've been told."
"You are dumb and stupid, and creepy, and dumb," She glared at him.
"You said dumb twice," He pointed out as he walked to the counter and placed the sword down for the shopkeep to ring up. Somewhere along the way, the cosplayer stomped her foot in annoyance but followed him like a blood-starved tick. God save him from teenagers; wait a minute, he was a teenager.
"Will that be all, sir?" The shopkeep, Mr. Perry if his memory of a few seconds ago was correct, asked.
"No, I also want as many flashbangs and grenades as you can legally sell me." Robin looked at Mr. Perry, who was entirely undisturbed by the request. One would likely get used to those with Huntsmen.
"Might I recommend our monthly munitions subscription? For a relatively minor fee, we can ship to you all sorts of weapons and explosives!" Mr. Perry offered in a chipper tone.
"That sounds," Stupid as hell. "Fucking awesome. I'll do it." Robin gave a nod. He should have asked how much the fee was, but who really cares? It's Beacon's problem, not his.
"Anything else?" Mr. Perry questioned, somehow even more chipper than before. Robin distantly realized he probably got scammed with that subscription.
"Uh, I'll also take that thing." He jerked a finger forward, pointing behind Mr. Perry at a dull grey, almost blocky revolver on the wall.
"An excellent choice, sir." Mr. Perry said in a sickenly smooth customer service voice.
Ruby, however, seemed to disagree, letting out a scoff. "What is the point of getting a sword and a gun when you can get both in one weapon? It's so much more convenient."
"What's convenient is not having to worry about my only weapon breaking down became I dropped it in the wrong way," Robin said.
"That won't happen if you actually take care of your weapon, but you're probably too lazy to do that aren't you?" Ruby crossed her arms as she spoke.
"I mean, yeah, probably. I don't even want to imagine how high maintenance your abomination of a farming tool is." Robin spoke as Mr. Perry handed him his newly purchased sword and pistol, sheath and holster thankfully included.
For the first time in the conversation, Ruby actually seemed to get mad. Luckily for Robin, however, her chosen response was to storm out of the store. Thank God, he almost had an actual conversation.
As he walked out of the store onto the busy street, he considered his options. While his weaponry issue was solved, he still looked like a fucking loser. Might as well fix that while he was out and about. Sorry mall ninja aesthetic, you served well.
One long shopping trip and haircut later, he arrived back at his dorm—bags of clothes and miscellaneous items on both arms. As he opened the door and walked in, it seemed the room was mostly abandoned outside of Sky, who was lying on his bed playing some game on his scroll.
The blue hair boy looked up, looked away, and then looked back. Panic spread across his face as he jumped up and cried out. "Who the fuck are you!"
"It's me, Robin; how did you already forget? Do you have the brain space of a squished orange?" Robin sighed as he moved over to his corner of the room and put his bags down.
"No, you just look almost normal now; it's weird." Sky still seemed somewhat unsettled.
"You sure know how to do wonders for a guy's confidence. Almost normal, lovely." Robin kneeled over and started rummaging around through his bags.
"Well, you still have those stupid-ass clothes and that trench coat," Sky said.
"It's a good thing I bought new clothes then and a different big coat." Robin nodded; he couldn't help it. On some deep primal level, big coats called to him.
"I don't think I'm mentally prepared for you to look like an acceptable member of society," Sky spoke.
"You've known me for like a weekend. How is it already stuck in your mind that much." Robin stood, new clothes in hand.
"When someone shows up to an initiation exam looking like a mistrali hobo, it tends to leave an impression." Sky stood up off the bed. "Now go change. I want to burn that trench coat."
Robin shuffled into the bathroom and quickly shed his old mall ninja outfit. He spared a glance in the mirror at his own form as he did so. He took in details for a body that was most certainly not his, something no amount of haircuts or wardrobe changes would fix. His former mane of black hair had been cut short, and his build was solid, lean, and muscular, something he would have killed for before but found himself all too uncomfortable with now. His knuckles were scarred, almost pure white. The sight all but puts a brick of lead in his gut, and he hurries to throw his new clothes on.
The outfit was overcomplicated, a response to his former almost hoboish look. A simple white button-up, with a light gray vest overtop, the most cargoy of cargo pants to hold his dust vials and whatever else he may need. Finally, a large blue overcoat with solid iron buttons and metal pauldrons that were practically nailed into it. Amidst the other items he had bought was a solid breastplate for him to wear on missions and in fights, but he didn't need to wear it right now. He looked into the mirror, and an unfamiliar face with unfamiliar pale blue eyes stared back at him. Even the way his muscles rested was different; his face relaxed in a slight smile instead of a frown like it used to.
Robin shook his head, breaking the line of sight with his own visage. He forced himself to walk out of the bathroom and saw Sky's face morph into something that could be construed as slight approval.
"Well, I'll be damned, you look like someone I don't have to disavow in public now," Sky said.
"Such a ringing endorsement. I'll have you know I always looked good. You just weren't ready to see it." Robin spoke with a small measure of humor forced into his tone.
"Yeah, whatever you say. I'll throw you off the roof if I ever see you wearing that old trench coat again." Sky said.
"You just hate what you can't understand!" Robin declared more genuine humor in his voice now. On some level, the banter helped quiet the raging thoughts in the back of his mind. So he went along with it and talked shit until Cardin showed up. All in all, it wasn't a bad day outside of being ambushed by a midget cosplayer.
Mostly more bantz and low level stuff today, got a real funky one in the works soon though. Struggled for a bit to find a good end this one but eventually just called it. Hopefully, y'all enjoy and have a nice day!