Chapter 33) Invincible
A/N: I'm back! Sorry this took so long, I had to take a bit of a break from things for a while. But I have indeed finished writing the whole 'JNPR Trilogy' of chapters, so there's gonna be regular uploads for the next three weeks!
Speaking of which…
Glynda Goodwitch, despite what many people may have thought of her from how she tended to carry herself, did in fact have a great deal of pride in her students, and she was entirely devoted to doing all that she could do to support them… at least, in her own way.
She may not have been as exuberant in her praise as some of her colleagues were, but she was as attentive and caring as she could be given her station, offering advice when warranted, reprimanding behaviour when necessary, and always watching their personal growth with a keen eye.
Indeed, she had been watching each and every bout of the tournament her students were a part of thus far, if not from the arena proper than at least from the live broadcasts. Already she had compiled pages of detailed comments ready to sort through in preparation for future lessons, and she was planning to make use of some of the recordings in her lectures, fully ready and willing to point out the clear errors in each individual's combat style.
"And our penultimate battle of the Doubles Rounds is locked in! From Haven Academy, we've already seen these two in action, and they were impressive indeed! But can they keep up the momentum, given who they are up against!? Please welcome back to the arena floor, REESE CHLORIS AND NADIR SHIKO!"
Barty's ceaseless energy was equal parts impressive and infuriating, but at that moment, Glynda wasn't really listening. Out of habit by this point she had set up her Scroll to play the live feed from the arena, but her attention was currently directed at something else entirely.
"And their opponents! From the team formerly known as JNPR, and representing Beacon Academy! The prodigy! The champion! Undefeated for three years running! And by her side her steadfast partner! Please welcome PYRRHA NIKOS AND JAUNE ARC!"
Glynda closed the filing cabinet, having retrieved what she was looking for, and made her way back towards her desk, setting the folder down in front of her beside her open notepad and pen as she took her seat. With a fresh cup of tea to hand and her morning cleared of anything that might otherwise get in the way of what she needed to do, Glynda flipped the folder open and began to read.
As convenient as having everything digitised was in most cases, sometimes a physical copy was more useful. At least in Glynda's opinion, having tangible documents was just common sense. After all, paper doesn't need electricity or an internet connection to function.
While Barty and a much-less-bombastic Ann finished their introductions and began to give the combatants their countdown, Glynda focussed on what the paperwork in front of her had to say as she flipped through the pages in a slow, methodical manner, eyes scanning the words as she refreshed her memory of what this particular file contained.
Basic personal information was listed on the first page. Name, date and place of birth, personal relations and emergency contact information and so on.
An up-to-date medical profile on the second page. No health concerns or long-term conditions, what few injuries recorded being minor and of little consequence.
Records from previous schools took up the next few pages. A detailed compilation going as far back as pre-school, and spanning over a decade of education and personal development. Consistent grades across most subjects, the occasional blip here and there, no more so than anyone else.
Combat transcripts followed after that. Carefully-worded commentary and observations on officially-sanctioned matches, showcasing a win-loss record that painted quite a picture indeed.
A very one-sided picture, at that.
Glynda paused, eyes roving up and down these notes, reading and re-reading what was before her as she pursed her lips and picked up her pen, scribbling down her thoughts on her notepad before moving on, turning the page once more.
A copy of a letter of application sent in before the start of the year, the handwriting a messy but legible scrawl, seemingly written in a rush.
The notes made during the application interview. An interview that Glynda had conducted herself. Her own words from months ago, annotated further in additional colours with comments courtesy of the other Professors, as was standard for all applicants.
"A stunning display from Miss Nikos! That shield of hers almost seems to have a mind of its own! Truly, we are witnessing the very best the next generation has to offer here today, folks!"
Glynda spared a brief glance at her Scroll, before returning to her current task. Flipping past the interview notes and the entrance exam results and the copy of the acceptance letter, Glynda landed on the portion of the file that was of most interest to her.
Pausing for a moment to take a sip of tea, Glynda drew a line underneath her notes thus far and prepared to really get to work.
The crowd cheered and chanted, a thousand voices all blurring together into a single, indistinguishable mass of noise, impossible to discern any individual calls from within the medley.
Even so, Jaune knew for a fact that none of that noise was for him. All their attention was on the actual spectacle playing out elsewhere in the arena. Meanwhile, Jaune found himself in a situation a tad more… mundane. Relatively speaking.
Another spray of bullets rattled his shield on his arm as he braced against the assault, digging in his heels once more as he weathered the storm. A brief pause indicated that his opponent was manoeuvring to a new position, and Jaune lowered his guard long enough to track his movements, adjust his own footing, and prepare to once again stand and guard against another round of gunfire.
Such had been the pattern for the past few minutes. Fire and guard, pause and move, fire and guard, pause and move, fire and guard, pause and move…
He has to run out sooner or later. He can't keep this up forever.
Jaune wasn't sure if he was referring to his opponent or to himself in that moment as the thought crossed his mind. Either way, he pushed the thought aside and focussed on holding his ground, briefly sparing a second to once again mentally convince himself that yes, this was the appropriate strategy in this situation.
It went against his instincts, and against his pride, but Jaune remained on the defensive and refrained from approaching his opponent. As much as he wanted to cast aside all caution and charge in to attack, he had made up his mind already.
Fight smarter, not stronger.
…
…
…
"You have a lot of Aura and a lot of stamina," Pyrrha had mused. "Rather than focussing in trying to emulate the fighting style of someone more light and agile, you should focus on what works best for you, what makes the best use of what you have to offer."
Jaune wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "I can do this, Pyrrha."
"I know you can," Pyrrha said firmly. "But do it your way."
…
…
…
Jaune was trying. He really was trying to look at who he was and find value in that. But more and more he was getting frustrated again, losing patience with himself as he continued to lag behind.
CLICK!
But perhaps Pyrrha was onto something.
The pink-haired, ponytailed boy had exhausted his ammunition.
And Jaune was not going to give him time to reload.
The shield collapsed back into its more compact form, its weight no longer spread out across so wide an area, and Jaune was able to sprint towards his target much easier without the cumbersome mass getting in his way.
He grasped Crocea Mors in both hands and delivered a diagonal-rising slash, leaping up as he did so, allowing gravity to assist with his follow-up hammer-strike as he put all of his weight into the attack.
Pink-Ponytail brought his weapon up to guard, blocking Jaune's attack just as the submachine gun finished transforming into a single-edged sword. Jaune saw the strain in the boy's expression as he barely held back the attack, saw him wince as he braced his sword with his other hand to support his guard.
Jaune broke away, stepping back just enough to give himself room to move. Switching back to a one-handed grip, Jaune once again deployed his shield and prepared to move in.
Playing to his defensive strengths had indeed paid off, but now it was time to play to his offensive strengths.
It was time to show everyone what he could really do.
Jaune pounced, springing forwards and lashing out with his off-hand, striking Pink-Ponytail with the edge of his shield and knocking him back a step. Pressing further, he followed up with a swipe from Crocea Mors, one that his opponent only barely managed to dodge. A counter-attack went wide, and Jaune retaliated with another jab with his shield, then another, and another.
The third jab was blocked, stopped dead by the flat of Pink-Ponytail's sword. A push forced Jaune backwards a half-step, and a swift kick pushed him back a half-step further. With space to move freely again, Pink-Ponytail lunged for Jaune, a thrust aimed for his less-armoured lower torso.
Jaune didn't bother to block or dodge. He took the hit without hesitation, so as to quickly grab his opponent's weapon with his off-hand and pull it aside, leaving them wide open as Jaune aimed a slash directly at his opponent's neck.
I can do this! I can win!
But before Crocea Mors could land, Pink-Ponytail let go of his own weapon and ducked underneath Jaune's attack, avoiding the swipe, before coming up directly in front of Jaune and meeting his eyes.
Blue eyes… that turned bright pink and flashed, and Jaune felt his entire body lock up like a statue, motionless.
His Semblance!? What did he-!?
Jaune regained mobility in time to feel his head jerk sideways from the punch he had just received, but he was dazed and unable to avoid the second punch, or the third, or the forth or the fifth or the sixth. Pink-Ponytail delivered a combo that left Jaune reeling, staggering backwards and unable to tell which way was which. His vision was wobbly, pain throbbed all across his face, and he felt his legs tremble beneath him, threatening to give out at a moment's notice.
No! Not like this!
Jaune lifted his gaze, scanning his surroundings for any sign of-
Blue eyes locked onto his once again, flashing pink, and once again Jaune felt his whole body lock up.
Shit!
Pink-Ponytail had retrieved his sword, and Jaune could do nothing but watch helplessly as his opponent drew back his arm and prepared to swing for him, knock him down and take him out without even giving him a chance.
Move! Move, dammit! MOVE!
But it was no use. Not a single muscle in his body would obey his wishes. He could do nothing but stand there as the sword swung for his head and sailed right over him without even coming close-
Huh?
Jaune's confusion was mirrored on the face of the boy in front of him, who seemed equally mystified as to why and how he had managed to miss a motionless target.
A familiar circular shield flew in front of Jaune then, and his unasked question was answered, quelling his confusion and replacing it with an ugly feeling in his gut.
Pyrrha appeared in between the two of them, catching her shield and kicking Pink-Ponytail in the stomach, forcing him back and away from Jaune.
The crowd cheered and applauded, and Doctor Oobleck offered up even more excited-sounding commentary and praise as Pyrrha forced Pink-Ponytail back further and further with each attack.
And all the while Jaune watched, motionless. Watched, powerless. Helpless and frozen and unable to do anything as once again, once again, once again Pyrrha stepped in to do what he could not.
The ugly feeling inside him twisted and writhed, and perhaps it was a small blessing that he could not even move his face at that moment, for if he could he would no doubt have been incapable of concealing his emotions.
Pyrrha delivered one final strike with her spear, and Pink-Ponytail fell down. The sound of the elimination claxon rang through the air, and the crowd erupted even louder than before.
"The undefeatable remains undefeated! Pyrrha Nikos and Jaune Arc win!"
… and Jaune Arc?
No. His name didn't matter here. He hadn't won anything. It had been Pyrrha. All Pyrrha.
Always Pyrrha.
"Jaune, are you alright?"
She was beside him, reaching out, placing her hand upon his shoulder. Her voice so full of worry and concern.
He hated it.
He could move again, the effects of the Semblance that had imprisoned him now released, just as he felt her hand make contact. He could move his eyes to meet hers, to see her face so full of care for him, and he knew, he knew that it was genuine and that she would not, could not ever look down on him because she really truly did care so much…
But still… he hated it.
Because even if he knew all of that, it didn't make any difference. What he knew, and what he felt… they were very different things.
Jaune plastered a smile on his face and nodded, and although he could see plain as day that she was not convinced in the slightest, she mercifully did not press him any further. Instead she turned to wave at the crowd, all smiles and sportsmanship as she basked in their adulation.
The crowd cheered for her, and Doctor Oobleck continued to sing her praises. No doubt the cameras were all trained on her as well, not paying him any mind as he allowed his false smile to slip away, bowing his head so he wouldn't have to watch it all.
She was the Invincible Girl, the star of the show.
What was he, compared to that?
What was he, compared to anyone else?
'… and Jaune Arc…'
And.
That was all. He was the one that followed 'and'. The name at the end. The passing reference. The other one.
Pyrrha didn't talk to him as they left the arena. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.
'Subject displays behavioural patterns characteristic of those suffering from an inferiority complex, including overcompensation with regards to self-imposed training standards and an alarming propensity for excessive risk-taking. Subject's responses to questions posed in one-one discussion provide further support for this evaluation, exemplified by repeated references to a need to "be better" than who they currently are.'
As Glynda read further down the psychological evaluation notes, she found her mood souring more and more. It was all information she knew already, but somehow reading it over again with fresh eyes and a fresh perspective made it worse than before.
A need to be better…
There was nothing wrong with a mindset like that in and of itself. A desire for self-improvement is a wonderful quality to possess. But if that were all that were listed here, Glynda's concern wouldn't be so severe.
She kept reading.
'Subject appears to hold views and beliefs that can be classified as fatalistic, bordering on nihilistic. Several responses given in discussion point to possessing a deeply-held belief in the immutability of the nature of the individual and a lack of acceptance of the possibility of change. Furthermore, additional responses indicate a feeling of a lack of control in the subject's own life, in contrast with how their actions seem to indicate a desire for change they seem to believe on some level that they can never have.'
When Glynda had first received this evaluation, she had viewed it with a level of scepticism. After all, someone who went so far as to apply to Beacon, to aspire to become a defender of humanity…
This just didn't seem like the profile of someone with that kind of ambition.
So she had put it aside and, using her own judgment, watched. Watched and pondered and analysed for herself, building in her own mind her own profile of this student.
What she saw…
Well, it brought her right back to where she started. Staring down at a profile of someone very, very troubled.
She had been arrogant. Presumptive. So sure of her own opinion that she had disregarded anything that didn't fit her pre-conceived notions of the person in front of her, so sure that her initial assessment of them that she…
…she had failed her student.
Glynda set her pen down and lowered her head into her hands, letting out a long, weary sigh.
"Aww," Nora whined. "It sucks that Pyrrha and Jaune didn't wanna join us!"
Ren just rolled their eyes. "Nora, I think they deserve a little rest after a fight like that, don't you?"
They did not voice their other concerns, keeping that to themselves like usual. No reason to burden Nora with their worries when she was trying to have a fun day.
It can wait. Let the pair of them rest, let Nora have this day, and tomorrow we can talk about it.
Ren ignored the nagging feeling in the back of their mind that they were just kicking the can down the road, opting instead to allow their partner's words to drown out their wayward thoughts.
"Well, yeah. But they can rest and hang out with us! I mean, we're just walking around a loud and busy festival full of loud and busy people and spending way too much money on junk food and rigged festival games! What's not relaxing about that!?"
Ren could have explained to her that not everyone recharged themselves by spending time around other people, and that some people need alone-time to reset and recuperate. But any such explanation would have been wasted on an extrovert-extraordinaire like Nora.
Especially since she had already wandered ahead, her attention drawn to one of the aforementioned rigged games and the obnoxiously-loud gentleman running it.
"Come one, come all! Win yourself a lovely prize for only twenty lien a try! Simply knock down all the cups in only two throws and you can take your pick from our fabulous selection! We've got t-shirts, we've got hats, we've got giant inflatable replicas of the coolest weapons wielded by the contenders of this year's tournament! It's a deal! It's a steal! It's a no-brainer!"
"Oh, I'm sure it's a steal in one… way…" Ren muttered under their breath, tailing off as something the vender mentioned in his pitch caught their attention belatedly.
"Ren!" Nora cried, waving back at them. "You have gotta see this!"
Joining Nora at the stall, Ren looked at the various prizes hung behind the game and, sure enough, a number of inflatable toy weapons were strung up beside the t-shirts and hats. And a number of them looked rather familiar.
"Look, they have yours!"
Following Nora's pointing finger, Ren spotted them. The handles were the wrong shade, and the blades were misshapen, but the resemblance was clear.
StormFlower. An off-brand, poorly-made facsimile of StormFlower.
"…how?"
"I see those have caught your eye, my good man!"
Ren blinked and slowly turned to face the vendor, whose grinning face was leaning in a little too close for their liking.
"What do you say?" the vendor continued. "Wanna try your hand at it? You seem like a lad with a good arm on you! Those could be yours for just twenty lien, if you're good enough of course!"
Ren stepped back a pace and resisted the urge to wince at the vendor's words, not wanting to cause a scene. It didn't seem like he was being intentionally malicious, after all. Just making assumptions.
"One please!" Nora exclaimed excitedly, slapping down the lien and grabbing the two balls from the basket set up on the counter.
"Ah, I see the young lady is raring to go! Eager to win a little something for your boyfriend, perhaps? Very well, take your best-!"
The ball shot through the air and struck the stack of cups that was in the middle of the stall, and the vendor's words were cut off as the pyramid exploded in all directions, toppling the stacks on either side of it as well. The ball continued onwards, slamming into the back of the stall with enough force to crack the wood panelling, embedding itself in the wall as the air finally stilled. Out of all five stacks of cups, only one single red cup remained on the far left side of the stall.
"Aw, though I could get 'em all in one," pouted Nora. Then, with a shrug, she tossed the second ball and took the final cup down with a clatter.
"So, what do I win?" Nora asked with a grin.
The vendor turned to stare at Nora with wide eyes. "Wh-what are they feeding you kids? That's the third time that's happened today."
"Were the other two times the result of a blonde girl and a red-headed girl, by any chance?" Ren asked, unable to keep themselves from smirking.
The vendor just blinked at that. "Well… I'll say the same to you as I did to them: that still only counts as one."
"Fair enough," Nora replied. "So Ren, what one should we get? Want a spare set of StormFlower, just in case?"
Ren shook their head, their smirk now a proper smile. Nora's perpetual exuberance had once again succeeded in cheering them up, even if she hadn't realised it.
"As… interesting as it would be to try and explain that to Professor Goodwitch, I think…"
Their eyes scanned over the rest of the prizes, searching for something suitably silly-looking to hang up in the dorm for a few days before it inevitably deflated and needed to be thrown out-
Wait.
Their eyes alighted on one item in particular, and their smile widened.
"That one."
The cabinet drawer closed softly, the file once again stowed safely away, Glynda's need for it now passed. The two pages of notes remained on her desk, ready to be properly written up in a more coherent manner for later.
Later. For now, Glynda was in desperate need of a break. Something to clear her mind before she inevitably had to make her case to the rest of the staff.
Important as it may have been, and long overdue as it was, it was still going to be a difficult conversation to have.
Making sure to lock her office door behind her, Glynda made her way through the empty hallways of Beacon. Very few students were presently in the building, almost all of them either watching the matches in the arena, or enjoying the festival as a whole.
Glynda had always found such times to be strangely eerie. A school wasn't supposed to be so quiet and empty. It gave the place a slightly ominous atmosphere, in her opinion.
But there was a benefit to having a school devoid of students, and it was that the facilities were free to be used without interference.
The door to the second sparring room closed behind her, and Glynda began setting up the equipment that she wished to use, levitating various items into position as she set about arranging a familiar, yet highly complex scenario to run through.
Several training dummies, a set of chairs, lengths of rope and various differently-sized items of training equipment all moved about the space, taken from the storage cupboards and from where some less-than-responsible students had left them lying about…
The complexity of the set-up was part of the set-up itself. A means for Glynda to push her Semblance to its limit as she manipulated a multitude of different items at once, arranging them in highly-specific ways so as to interact with each other in highly-specific means once the whole system was in place.
It was also a very attention-consuming task, which was what she sorely needed right now.
The process took some time, but once everything was in place, Glynda took her position in the centre of the room, eyes closed and her crop held loosely in her hand. Turning on the spot after a short count of five, Glynda called upon her Semblance once more and swiped her crop through the air, sending a short burst of telekinesis towards the first item in her arrangement, setting off the full sequence.
She kept her eyes closed as it began, listening as each stage of the sequence was triggered by the one before it, listening for the sounds that would tell her when to-
Move.
A step to the left, just enough to avoid the ball launched by the falling chair, allowing it to pass by her head and sail into the training dummy behind her, toppling it over and triggering the rope mechanism it was attached to in order to release-
Duck.
Bowing at the waist, Glynda felt the rush of air ruffle her hair as she avoided the bucket. The clang she heard afterwards told her that it had landed where she had wanted it to, and she prepared to make her next move when the time came.
Each sound told her what was occurring, each noise painting a picture in her head of what was unfolding all around her as one by one, each carefully-arranged stage of the elaborate system she designed fell into place.
She stepped aside to avoid a length of rope lashing out.
She ducked low to avoid another ball that sailed overhead.
She jumped up to avoid a rolling container set loose.
And all the while she kept her eyes closed, only relying on her hearing to time her movements. If that was not enough, then that meant her arrangement was off, which meant that her control over her Semblance was unacceptably poor.
A need to be better…
There was nothing wrong with a mindset like that in and of itself. A desire for self-improvement is a wonderful quality to possess…
…
So much for a distraction. Her mind still wandered back to before, even as she continued her dance amidst the carefully-choreographed chaos around her.
The final sound, the final warning, and Glynda made her final movement, stepping to avoid the final obstacle-
She felt an object strike her shoulder, and her eyes shot open as the noise all around her finally stilled.
The ball had hit her, having gone wide after being catapulted by the final falling weight. It was by her foot, the only item within the radius of space she had created for herself to manoeuvre about. Everything else had fallen precisely where it was supposed to, creating a ring of detritus… but at the last stage, her arrangement had been off.
…
Glynda closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
Her wandering thoughts had clearly thrown her off. And that just would not do at all.
Her crop traced patterns through the air as she began to reset everything, ready to run the entire thing again from the top.
A need to be better…
There would always be a need to be better in this line of work. There was nothing wrong with having a mindset like that.
…
Glynda had always known she was a hypocrite.
Pyrrha set her Scroll aside and lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to stave off sleep for a little while longer, at least until Ren and Nora got back.
Reece had put up a serious fight, and her manoeuvrability with her hoverboard had taxed Pyrrha considerably trying to keep up with her. Add in the final desperate moments against Nadir, and all told it had been a very taxing round.
A long shower and getting changed into her pyjamas early had done wonders for most of her aches, but using her Semblance as much as she had done had really taken a lot out of her. There was a reason she tried to avoid falling back on it to such a degree.
If only that were all…
The sound of the shower stopped, and Pyrrha's tired mind wandered back to the other source of her exhaustion.
Her unending worry and concern for her partner.
She wanted to talk to him, to ask what was bothering him, because she knew that something was bothering him, as much as he tried to hide that from her…
But she knew well enough by now that Jaune was not one to willingly open up when confronted suddenly. He was doing better in that regard lately, but Pyrrha still worried that he might close himself off again if she said the wrong thing.
No… better to leave it for now. Let him sleep off today and have a proper conversation tomorrow. Get Ren and Nora to chime in as well, maybe over breakfast where they could be more casual.
Pyrrha felt her eyelids grow heavier. It was getting harder to-
"WE'RE BAA~AACK!"
Pyrrha lifted her head off her pillow and smiled at the sight – and sound – of Nora's return, Ren entering alongside her with much less energy, but with a smile nonetheless.
"Hello, you two," Pyrrha greeted them tiredly. "How was your day?"
"Great!" Nora replied as she sank onto her own bed. "I broke the hammer game!"
Pyrrha blinked. "As in, you broke the record, or…?"
"Technically yes," Ren chimed in. "But also, the other thing you're thinking as well."
"I see." Pyrrha wondered if they would get billed for that.
"She also won all of this," Ren added, holding out a sizeable armful of various items. "Except the sunglasses. I won those." They gestured to the pair of pink sunglasses perched on their head.
Pyrrha hummed in approval. "They look nice. What else is there?"
Ren dumped the collection on their own bed, and they and Nora began sorting through it all, showcasing each item in turn while Pyrrha watched.
The bathroom door opened, and Jaune stepped out, dressed in his casual clothes. He looked a bit more refreshed himself, which was good. Not quite so out-of-sorts.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"Oh, Jaune! Check this out! Ren spotted it at the first game we won!"
Nora held up the item in question, and Pyrrha's eyes widened as she sat up to see it properly.
It was a little out-of-proportion, and off-colour, and clearly quite cheap, but the double-crescent symbol was unmistakable.
"They had all of ours!" Nora explained happily as she passed Jaune the inflatable replica of his own shield, which he took from her with a dumbfounded expression. "Pretty neat, huh?"
"But… why?" he asked.
Ren shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. My best guess is that all of the contenders' info got leaked, so people started making cheap knock-offs to cash in."
"But…" Jaune looked up at them. "Why… why my shield?"
"Oh, they had the sword as well," Nora added, already grabbing the next item to show off. "But the guy running the game only let us pick one thing, so we couldn't get both."
Jaune looked at Nora, then back to Ren, then back at the shield in his hands.
Jaune then set the shield down, stepped forwards, and hugged Nora.
He said something to her, but it was muffled, so Pyrrha couldn't make it out. But she could see Nora smiling as she hugged him back, and caught her saying something about Ren being the one to thank, and Jaune turned to give Ren a hug as well.
Pyrrha said nothing. She just watched with a smile as her partner hugged and thanked their friends, and she felt so grateful for them, for how thoughtful a gesture it was of them to do this for him.
BUZZ! BUZZ!
Her Scroll went off beside her, and Pyrrha reached for it lazily, unlocking it and pressing the answer button without bothering to check who was calling.
"Hello?"
"Miss Nikos, are you busy at this moment?"
Ozpin set his Scroll down on his desk, face as impassive as ever. "She is on her way."
James nodded tersely. "Well then, it will be good to finally be able to speak to her in person. I'm interested to see what qualities she possesses that have inspired your choice, Ozpin."
Branwen snorted. "Have you not been watching the show so far, James? Too busy to turn on the TV?"
James ignored him. "Have you informed Leo and Theo yet?"
Ozpin shook his head. "Not yet. In case she chooses differently, I think it best to wait before potentially giving them outdated information."
James nodded once more, keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being.
"Sir…" Schnee spoke up. "Are you certain it is appropriate for me to be here for this?"
James turned to face her. "Of course. After all, this is a decision that will affect you as well, one way or another."
"I understand that, sir. It's just…" Schnee paused for a moment. "Might my presence perhaps give off the wrong impression?"
Glynda stepped forwards before James could respond. "Perhaps Miss Schnee is right. Whatever choice is made today, we need to be sure that it is not a choice made based on-"
"I disagree, Glynda," Ozpin interrupted, to James' surprise. "I think we should be as open as possible. Concealing any more than is necessary would be quite wrong of us, especially considering what we are asking of these two."
James allowed himself a small, not-at-all-smug, smile at Ozpin's words.
"Well then," Branwen scoffed, leaning against the wall and taking a swig from his flask. "Anyone wanna make a bet on what she decides to do?"
James ignored him. "Thank-you, Ozpin."
Ozpin simply inclined his head in that ever-so-slight way of his, not quite a nod, but close enough.
"Also, for the record James," added Branwen. "We all agreed it should be her. Y'know, because we had a proper conversation about it and all."
James ignored him.
He really didn't have the patience to deal with Branwen today.
But even if he refused to entertain the drunkard's attempts to get a rise out of him, he still found himself musing on what he had said.
He had been watching, and he had been party to the discussions had regarding this choice. And while he was not a betting man in any capacity, he was inclined to wager that this girl… this prodigy… would likely say yes, given what he had learnt about her so far.
Well… time to find out once and for all if this Pyrrha Nikos is everything she has been built up to be.
As she waited for the elevator to finish ascending, Pyrrha wondered whether she should have worn her uniform, or maybe her combat gear, instead of what she had opted for in her half-asleep, wired and confused state after ending the phone call.
A spare hoodie of Jaune's pulled over her pyjamas, hair still down and slippers on her feet, did not exactly convey an image of seriousness.
It was only when she was already in the elevator that her brain caught up with her actions, and she had the realisation that being slightly less punctual might have been preferable to looking like she had stumbled out of bed less than five minutes prior.
Granted, she technically had only just stumbled out of bed less than five minutes prior.
Maybe she should have told the Headmaster that she couldn't make it, that she was busy, or just admit that she needed some sleep and that it may have been better to wait until tomorrow morning.
But he had sounded serious, much more so than she was used to hearing from the usually offbeat and upbeat Professor. Turning him down had seemed like a bad idea at the time.
Pyrrha did not make rational decisions when tired, she was beginning to realise.
Well, too late now.
Maybe she was being overly worrisome. After all, this was Professor Ozpin, not Professor Goodwitch. Perhaps he would have a sense of humour about the whole thing, and let it slide…
The door opened, and Pyrrha stepped out of the elevator and into the spacious office of the Beacon Headmaster, who was seated behind his desk.
She stopped in place upon registering that he was not the only one present, as four other pairs of eyes all landed upon her.
Ruby and Yang's uncle raised an eyebrow at her, and she could have sworn she heard him stifle a snort of laughter.
Weiss' sister, if her memory was correct, looked quite taken aback.
General Ironwood, of all people, stared at her in open-mouthed surprise.
Professor Goodwitch simply levelled her with a disappointed glare.
"Uh… you… wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Pyrrha asked lamely, pondering the pros and cons of simply turning tail and running away.
Professor Ozpin, if he was at all thrown off by her manner of dress, did not show it. He simply nodded at her with a small smile as he gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk. "Thank-you for coming so quickly, Miss Nikos."
Feeling very awkward as she made her way towards the chair, Pyrrha did her best to ignore her growing embarrassment as she sat down. "What did you wish to speak to me about, sir?"
In the half second it took for Professor Ozpin to reply to her question, Pyrrha imagined several possibilities. A pessimistic portion of her mind conjured up the possibility that she was about to be given a severe reprimand for some mistake she could not recall, while a more optimistic portion of her mind pondered the likelihood that her team were about to be given a commendation for their performance in the tournament thus far.
What he actually said, or more accurately asked, instead threw her for a loop.
"What's your favourite fairytale?"
Hello again, my very patient readers! Not Scot here, and the JNPR trilogy has begun!
I had a very specific vision in mind for this first part of the trilogy, one that required quite a few writing sessions before I was happy with it. Jaune's part in particular took up the bulk of those sessions, so I hope I was able to get across the intended feel of his current headspace. Feel free to let me know in the reviews if you think I did a good job or not.
Next chapter, 'The Fall Maiden', will be up exactly one week from today, and I can for once actually guarantee that, as I have indeed managed to write all three parts of this mini-arc in advance, so you will be getting an unbroken string of regular uploads for once!
So check back in next week for this fic's take on how Pyrrha reacts to the world-shattering revelations she is about to learn. Will she take it in stride, or…?
Well, see for yourself. For now though, as the heat around these parts continues to be unbearable, I shall take my leave.
Until next time,
Not Scot.
P.S: 'Nadir' is a word of Arabic origin that refers to something at "the lowest point". What a fun coincidence that turned out to be.