INIT. COMBAT TRIAL: BLOCK 1, SOLO FORMAT
ONE ROUND; 5 MIN; 15% AURA PARAMETER; NO RING-OUT; NO FORFEIT; ALL WEAPONS ALLOWED; ALL SEMBLANCES ALLOWED
MODERATOR: GLYNDA GOODWITCH
CONTESTANTS ARE AS FOLLOWS:
[Y1] NORA V. - [Y1] CARDIN W.
[Y1] PYRRHA N. - [Y1] YANG X. L.
[Y1] LIE R. - [Y1] RUSSEL T.
[Y1] RUBY B. R. - [Y1] JAUNE A.
[Y1] SKY L. - [Y1] DOVE B.
[Y1] BLAKE B. - [Y1] WEISS S.
Ruby only really watched her sister's match, and it was phenomenal. Pyrrha Nikos, Honored Martial of the Vellum Archive of the Availed Doctrine Prime Temple, lived up to her extremely lengthy First Archivist title by displaying the orthodox branch's ancient combat prowess through every fiber of her being. She fought with a long, three-pronged crux and a brass tower shield— a combination that shouldn't work as well as it did; the crux was a two-handed polearm, but it sat in Pyrrha's hand more nimbly than Ruby's whipsword had ever looked. She fought with perfect efficiency, perfect economy, throwing herself and her crux around like she had a secret third, fourth, and fifth arm with which she was inventing new angles of martial fuckery.
Yang Xiao Long, Big (Half) Sister of Ruby Branwen-Rose and Prodigal Seed of the Infamous Raven Branwen and the Late Taiyang Xiao Long, fought like eight dragons trying to either copulate or kill each other. The air sparked against her bare fists, lighting fires on each knuckle that climbed up and flared out from her elbows. She was chaos incarnate, a rolling inferno that engulfed Pyrrha Nikos.
Pyrrha held strong, her tower shield deflecting blows with uncanny, unerring ease, but she was undeniably on the defense. Yang ate her blows in exchange for chipping her defenses away, her burning Aura dropping in intermittent chunks while she gradually melted into the soft core of Pyrrha. There came a point where Yang's fists were little more than blurs of fire, her teeth a feral, overjoyed grimace as flames blazed from the corners of her mouth.
The end came quickly. Yang ripped the shield away with her bare hands, Pyrrha made a warding thrust with the front spike of her crux— trying to get distance, no doubt— Yang let it glance her Aura as she ducked to the side, putting her face directly in the path of one of the crux's lateral blades, and the next two things happened like a sideshow.
Yang, with the huge, golden bonfire of her hair outshining all the light in the room, with the sleeves of her yellow sweatshirt burned up until it was reduced to more of a muscle tee, was unerring in her assault. Like a mad animal, Yang bit the blade and kept pushing.
Pyrrha, with her bronze bell cuirass and flowing white robes beneath it, with her high scarlet braid blowing back from the force of Yang— and with an expression that belied something more akin to a challenging game of charades than Yang Xiao Long rushing her like a shark hankering for face-meat— dropped her cruciform polearm without hesitation, bobbed underneath Yang's meteorite haymaker, and pulled up with her whole body to uppercut the thick slab of her tower shield directly into Yang's chin.
Yang, for her part, came back swinging within the next eye blink, but found her feet treading nothing but air as she was suspended off the ground, courtesy of Miss Goodwitch. The professor held her there until she cooled down and realized the buzzer had sounded, at which point she cheerfully dropped out of the telekinetic bubble and rushed Pyrrha again.
Pyrrha immediately held up her shield, but her defense was no match for Yang's crushing embrace as the First Archivist champion— taller though she was and holding what must be a seriously heavy shield— was lifted fully off her feet in the brawler's arms. Ruby watched Pyrrha's face draw taut with uncertainty as Yang started twirling her around, then set her down with an honest-to-god kiss to Pyrrha's cheek.
The audience gasped at that, but Pyrrha simply stood there, shocked, one hand slowly lifting to her face as Yang walked away, her arms spread wide and beckoning applause. The stands took a couple seconds before they exploded with sound, their roaring applause carrying on until both Yang and Pyrrha were back in her seats— Yang between Ruby and Blake, Pyrrha between Jaune and that ginger girl, Nora.
The next round between Lie Ren and Russel Thrush was considerably less earth-shattering, with the latter squeezing out a victory when the timer buzzed and his Aura was a little higher than Lie Ren's.
And then Ruby was down there, swaying a little on her feet (not anemically, thank goodness, but she really should've gotten another transfusion) as Jaune settled into stance across from her. She dusted off her cassock. She thought about mom.
'Alright, fledgling,' Raven had said, addressing her in a way that would later make mum irate. 'No weapon, no friends, just you and someone who's going to kill you, right?'
Ruby had nodded. She'd been… what, ten? Younger?
Raven had held her own feathered arms out, hers a pure namesake black compared to Ruby's black-and-maroon. 'It's hard to do things for long,' she had stated simply, since she had the same pneumatized bone structure as Ruby did, thus the same anemia. 'But we move fast, think fast, hit fast, right? You especially, what with that handicap of a Semblance you've got.'
Ruby had asked what she meant by handicap. Raven had said it meant the Semblance was too strong for its own good; it'd end up drawing her into relying on it, which would in turn make her weak.
'We end this fast and hard,' Raven instructed, continuing. 'There's no honor in fighting like this, Ruby, but that's just the way it is. We're not built to brawl like Yang or your mother can, so if you ever end up in a fight without your weapon, just know the cards are already stacked against you. In this, honor means death.' She had looked like she was about to keep going when something made her expression go dire, and she'd locked her intense crimson gaze right onto Ruby, something cracking deep within her eyes. 'Do not die, Ruby. Do not lose, either, but do not die. I…' she had shaken her head, mending whatever vulnerability had briefly formed. 'I reserve the right to your life, as does your mother, as does your sister. Just like ours are yours, and I would expect you to be the one to end me when my time comes.'
Ruby had blinked, but nodded after a moment. Mom was always… obsessed with warrior culture, though she'd never invited Ruby— or her wife, for that matter— to any of the things she sometimes had to leave for. Nor had she passed down anything but vague cultural tenets and a sharp, mesmerizingly-patterned red and black robe to Ruby.
'Show me your stance, fledgeling.'
Ruby had dropped into something she saw Yang doing when she fought— hands up, shoulders square. Raven had frowned, then wiped the disappointment from her face; it wasn't like Ruby knew any better.
'No, not even close. Never do that.' She'd stepped forward and mimed a punch right to Ruby's forearm. 'If someone hit here while your Aura was down, you'd end up with at least one broken forearm.'
Ruby had nodded, understanding the logic. Having broken forearms was bad.
The match bell rang, blaring out the starting tone.
Just like mom had drilled into her, Ruby looked Jaune in the eyes and bent forward, her arms splaying wide, sort of like a bow or a 'come punch me in the face' taunt. Her feathers fanned out low, her palms open towards Jaune.
The boy drew his sword and shield, then bowed unsurely in turn. Ruby nodded. She held her stance.
Jaune looked up at Goodwitch, his expression obviously beseeching. The professor wasn't looking at him, she was watching Ruby.
As soon as Jaune's eyes moved away, Ruby burst forward, folding her arms to fan her feathers over her legs, enshrouding them as she approached. Jaune realized what was happening just before she arrived.
Ruby pumped her hands up towards his face. Jaune flinched, raising his shield high.
Talons gouged into his yellow Aura as Ruby exploited his gullibility, his raised heater shield having left his legs wide open to her claws. Jaune made a noise— something between a yelp and a grunt— before swiping out with his sword. He hacked through air.
Ruby's claws scraped across his Aura again, this time from behind. Jaune whirled around, shield-first, batting Ruby's leg away as he followed up with a slash from his sword, briefly meeting Ruby's red Aura with his blade before she could dance away. Getting distance, Ruby's eyes slid to the big screen with their Aura statuses.
JAUNE A. 88% - RUBY B. R. 72%
Good god! He'd barely hit her! And she'd hit him good! Twice!
Was her Aura lacking because she'd been injured so much lately? Did Jaune just have an absurdlylarge Aura?
Mom's roughly-delivered, but admittedly justified advice: 'Ruby! For fuck's sake, stop thinking!'
Caught thinking, Ruby had to scramble back as Jaune pressed her again, nearly taking the tip of Jaune's sword to the extended hitbox of her giant nose. She let herself fall back, catching herself on her elbows as she lashed up and out with her talons, scraping shield with her left and catching Aura in her right. Jaune swung down at her, but his blade only cut through a burst of ethereal black-and-red feathers.
Ruby didn't like what she was about to do— she wasn't really sure she could do it— but 'didn't like' and 'wasn't sure' weren't words that would let her end this, and she needed to end this. Whatever was up with Jaune's immense Aura was a bad sign for her, and the thin store of her own was an even worse sign. Despite what mom had told her, she needed a handicap.
Dropping out of the line, Ruby landed directly on top of Jaune, her claws closing around each of his shoulders. He looked up, too immediately baffled to compose himself.
Ruby knocked on her Semblance's door. She held out an expensive bouquet of tulips for it— their favorite, her and her soul both, despite her name— and asked nicely to come inside. She saw the couch covered in mud and dirt, and she acknowledged she was at fault. She apologized for saying all those awful things, for messing up all of her Semblance's carefully organized furniture; it wasn't cool, she admitted. It was lame. If Blake had seen it, they would've called her cringe, and they'd be right about it. Ruby was cringe, and her Semblance deserved better than cringe. 'I love you,' she told her Semblance, 'But if I'm not right for you, if I've hurt you too much…' she threw her head aside and wiped her tears away, declaring from deep in her chest, 'Then leave me! Find someone better, someone you deserve!'
The music— soapy strings and a lone, keening trumpet— kicked on as Ruby dared to meet her Semblance's gaze again. And god, her Semblance was so hot and cool, even hotter and cooler than Blake. Even in this moment of emotion and pain, an attractive dusting of pink had crossed her cheeks.
Her Semblance sighed. Her Semblance opened its arms, took her in its embrace, and invited her back rejoiced.
Then she immediately threw the couch back outside.
Jaune screamed as he was dumped out of Ruby's Semblance, only for his face to immediately be filled with bird-foot when Ruby wrapped her talons around him, forcing his head down as they fell.
What was probably 20 or 30 feet felt like a thousand, giving Ruby the perfect opportunity to see Weiss' stupid, flabbergasted face in the stands. She sought the pale girl out, triumph seeping from her pores, before it all drained away the moment Ruby found her partner.
Weiss was staring in abject horror, her good eye wide, her lips drawn in tight grimace. She looked to be mid-gasp, her ink-covered hand clutching her chest.
Well… good. Yeah. That's what she gets. Not like Jaune would actually get hurt or anything, even if Weiss' face was certain he would, even if she looked like Ruby was about to turn his skull into chunky marinara.
But she wouldn't, right? Was this too high up? This was just, like, 20 feet, right? Or was it 50? She didn't have a friggin' tape measure, how was she supposed to know! It probably wasn't enough. It'd probably be fine. Jaune was her friend, she wouldn't just kill her friend, things would be fine!
Oh god, was Weiss mouthing 'please'? Seriously?
Fool she was, Ruby let herself be swayed. She plotted a line to the ground, hoping she wouldn't get rejected too hard when she tried to take Jaune safely down with her.
The line sucked Ruby in like whitewater rapids, dumping her face-first into the ground and filling her mouth with sand as her Semblance got its deserved revenge. Grunting, she unburied her face from the arena.
Weiss looked down at her. She smirked.
Ruby groaned, "God-damm—"
The full weight of a teenage boy in half-plate slammed down on Ruby's back, reducing her Aura nearly to nothing and almost cracking her spine in two. Ruby wailed as her barely-healed ribs were compressed. The buzzer blared.
"Jaune Arc!" Glynda Goodwitch declared.
The stands awoke.
Just kidding. They slept, save for a few.
In a move that was too smooth for two people who had only very recently met, Yang leapt from the stands, her momentum arrested by a Blake that appeared from smoke to catch her partner, then faded back into bluish shadow the moment she set Yang down, with the actual Blake herself landing directly in Yang's waiting arms shortly thereafter. The two of them rushed to Ruby's side, Yang roughly pushing Jaune off so she and Blake could lift Ruby under the arms.
Ruby cried out with the pain of a stretched, raw rib cage, the white anguish snapping across her senses so hard that she almost blacked out on her feet before a steadying hand from Yang brought her back to the world.
"The hell happened?" Yang asked.
"Actually tho," Blake agreed, her voice too concerned to match her words.
Wincing with each sharp breath, Ruby shook her head and declined to speak. Yang and Blake hobbled her out.
About two hours later, and with someone else's blood filling her veins again, Ruby didn't even look at the matchups for the Duo trials. She knew who she'd be paired with, and judging by the kind of BS she'd been through so far, she could guess who she'd be paired against.
She watched her feet rather than the matches, waiting for her name.
"Flora-beeeeeellllllll," Weiss rang, scooting in next to her as the first match started. "Art thou excited? Surely thou hast not lost heart, despite that embarrassment of the last— a shame, verily, I had expected so much more of thee."
Ruby didn't even look at her.
"Aw, Florabel, be not aggrieved! Thou wilt—"
"Weiss, shut the fuck up," Ruby said. "Seriously. Just… shut up. Please."
Weiss' smugness finally died in its crib, which felt more enlightening than any sermon had ever been. Seeing it made Ruby lean back and sigh.
"Ruby—"
"What happened to Florabel?" Ruby poked. "That just sounds wrong from you."
"Florabel," Weiss ground out through her teeth. "Thou art mine partner, which mean—"
"That we're fighting in duos, yeah, obviously," Ruby agreed. "So, like, why mess with me when you know we're supposed to work together? Seriously, are you genuinely stupid?"
"I am not—" Weiss stopped herself, inhaled, and exhaled. "Florabel. If we do not fight well, we will lose—"
"Oh, so we'll be even since you already made me lose my solo. Cool." Ruby gave her a thumbs-up. "That sounds good."
"Fine," Weiss growled.
"Fine?"
"Fine!" Weiss repeated. "What dost thou desire of thy nemesis? One thing— name it."
"I deserve two things."
"Then two things thou shalt have! Just name them!"
Ruby held up a finger. "Stop messing with Jaune. He doesn't deserve… whatever it is you're doing with him, because we both know it's not genuine." She held up another. "Listen to me. Do what I say in the fight."
Weiss snorted. "Thou knowest not what I have for John."
"Jaune," Ruby corrected.
"Fine! Fine! Whatever."
"Ha! I put 'whatever' in your vocabulary."
"Silence thyself, harlot!"