"Well, maybe we were just tired of being pushed around!"

The room was still for much longer after that outburst than it had been after Weiss'. And it was no wonder why.

Unless Rook had misread her words, that girl had blurted out right then that she was—at least aforetime—a sister of the White Fang. If that were so, then that meant she might know something about what they were doing right now; his 'tip' had told him that the Foe was already stirring up befallings in this Kingdom, and it seemed to him—given what the news had lately shown about dust theft here—that her thralls may likely have brought them and others into it.

Given the rush of wind as she ran out of the room, and Ruby calling her name—'Blake', seemingly—he reckoned he might soon find out. He floated down, keeping mum for a bit before pulling his scroll from his inner chest-pocket.

"Did you hear all of that?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Sun's reard came through after a short while, mindfully hushed in kind but shocked nonetheless. "Sounds like she's got a checkered past."

A dark look came upon his eyes as his friend's likeness gazed up at him on his screen. "So it seems."

Sun looked at him oddly for a short while, before his deep blue eyes started to narrow. "No."

Rook's eyes met Sun's over the scroll. and he matched his gaze.

"I know that look, Rook. We're not doing that."

A thick, dark eyebrow quirked. "'We'?"

Sun's eyes took up a steadfast look. "I might've come to Vale for my own reasons, but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna leave you on your own here."

Rook's brow arched a little more at that, even as his gaze flattened. "Isn't that what you did to your teammates in doing so?"

"They can handle themselves without me at the wheel all the time."

Both his brows were fully raised now as he stared at the screen. "And you think I cannot?"

"You and I both know what you're like when you spend too much time alone," Sun frowned. "No man is an island, Rook."

Rook's stare seemed as though it might somehow become even flatter at Sun's awkward, stilted speech, and he spoke in kind. "I see you've been listening to Lionheart's words of wisdom."

Sun's gaze faltered somewhat as he sighed. "I know the two of you don't always get along, Rook—but he does care about you. A lot."

Rook's eyes seemed to soften somewhat at his friend's words; he didn't say as much aloud, but he knew all too well the truth behind them: the man had taken him in when there was nowhere else he could go; he had housed him, fed him, taught him, given him everything he needed to come as far as he had…

He could never bring himself to say it aloud, but Leo was the closest thing he had ever known to a father.

"He… made me promise I'd look out for you when he figured out what I was gonna do, actually." Sun scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "I guess I owe you that much, anyway. Both of you."

"You do not owe me anything, Sun. I only did what I hoped was right."

Sun's smile grew a little fonder at that. "You would say that, wouldn't you? Always the lawful good."

Rook huffed through his nose as the right side of his lip pulled up ever so slightly. "I stowed away on a freighter with you to get into Vale without anyone else finding out—I do not think I am that lawful."

"Yeah, but you usually are." Sun smirked cheekily. "So, we good?"

Rook said nothing as he stared at Sun on the screen for a short while, before shutting his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"… I will let you speak to her first."

Sun's eyes sparkled with win as those words met his ears, and his lips came together as he gave a hushed hoot of barely-withheld laughter and giddily pumped his fist in the air. "YES! Junior detective Sun Wukong's first solo case is a go!"

Rook's brow quirked.

"… Oh. Right." his back slouched over. "… Just try to go easy on her, okay? You kinda overdo the 'bad cop' thing sometimes."

Everything's gone completely wrong.

Just like it always does. First my parents, then Adam and the White Fang… and now, this.

I hold back bitter tears, running as fast as I can down the halls and the stairwells, out of the doors of the school and on from that until my breath starts to give out and my pace slows against my will.

As I come up to the monument close to the front of the campus, I can't help but stop—both to catch my breath, and to stare up at it.

The figures of the first great Huntsman and Huntress, their names long since lost to the sands of time, stand tall and proud upon a jutting rock: the Huntsman is dressed in the hybrid mail-and-plate armor of a knight from the Late Middle-Elds, holding his longsword out with the blade pointing up as if to signify their victory; the Huntress stands by his side, looking onward in another direction as she rests her long, two-headed ax upside down, her hand laying flat on the other end—as if she were brooding over it.

I used to think that Adam and I would be like those two, leading our people on the path to a better future; that was how everything looked like it was going until he started to change. As those painful old memories of another life resurge, my eyes drift down to the Beowolf beneath the rock: it's holding out its claws, as if ready to swipe at an unseen target.

How long before that target is me? There's no way he'd let me live, if he ever finds out where I've gone since leaving the White Fang. He'd see me as a full-on traitor to our people.

But, aren't I? I've hidden what I am all this time; other Faunus like that Velvet girl in our history class show their traits with what pride they can, even when they end up getting harassed over them by guys like Cardin. And I did nothing to stand up for them when I should have done, all because I was so scared of blowing my cover and my chances at a future here.

… But there's no point worrying about that anymore, is there? My hands reach up to the bow on my head, and even as the way they do so hurts my ears—my other ears, the ears I've hidden under this stupid thing all this time—they pull it loose.

Having to keep still for so long, they've become stiff; I take a moment to massage them with one hand as the other holds the ribbon I used close to my chest.

An unchecked tear finally starts to emerge from my eye, but I brush it away before it can fall.

A friendly, vaguely familiar voice catches my attention.

"I knew you would look better without the bow!"

I turn my head in its direction, above and behind me—and my eyes are greeted by none other than the boy from the docks, smiling warmly at me from atop a lamppost.

… I'm not sure what to think about that, honestly; on the one hand, I'm glad for the company. But on the other…

"Were you… following me?" I ask.

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "Well… Technically, I guess?"

I can't help the frown that comes onto my face at the way he said that. What exactly is 'technically' supposed to mean in this context?

"He was only following me in turn," another voice—a darker, softer one, carrying less obvious warmth and more of a feeling of gentle strength along with a certain aristocratic inflection—echoes from somewhere further away. "I was the one following you—or, at least, your team."

My eyes turn from behind me to my right, and they widen as I see a tall, muscular figure emerge from the shadows between the trees; shadows that, for the briefest of moments, seem far too deep to be natural until he steps out into the light. He's wearing what looks like a large, black cape, or maybe a mantle, with a matching bycocket. I can't tell whether it's made of fabric or some kind of leather, but I do notice the deep shadow it casts over his face—and his glowing, cyan irises piercing through the darkness in which he's cloaked himself.

"You must be Blake, then."

A chill goes down my spine as he says that. How does he know my name? "Who are you?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he takes off the large, black bycocket hiding his face and his body beneath his cape underneath the shadow of its brim… and a head of feathery, black hair greets me along with a face my own age as the cyan fades from his eyes into burgundy,

I'm left at a loss for words as I see the Look in them.

The Look tells a story of a thousand words: its wearer has experienced loss and hardship in abundance throughout their entire life—slavery, abuse, watching loved ones die before their time—but instead of being consumed by a thirst for vengeance against the world, they're filled with a clear and deep-rooted resolve to make sure no-one ever has to suffer the way that they have. I've only ever seen the Look in veterans of the Faunus Rights Revolution—men like my father—but this is a human teenager. In all my life, I've never imagined I'd see one of them wearing it.

It briefly crosses my mind then that, if Adam ever has his way, they all might.

"I should be the one asking you that, given what I heard earlier," he finally speaks again as his eyes narrow and his arms cross over his chest—still hidden under that mantle, although I notice he's wearing black gloves. "How you answer will deem whether I am friend or foe."

My throat dries up as his eyes bore into mine—there's so much going on in them all at once that I can't tell what's supposed to be at the forefront. All I can make out for certain is their intensity.

Before too much time passes, I manage to find my voice again.

"… I'm not with the White Fang anymore," I confess. "I… I came here, to Beacon, to start over." My eyes fall to my bow in my hand as tears threaten to fall again. "All I ever wanted was to help my people. I can't be a part of what we've—" I stop myself as I squeeze my eyes shut, both to banish the tears and to collect my words. "… What they've become. They're no better now than the ones who hurt us, the ones we rose up against."

For a moment, nobody says anything. I can't bring myself to look back at either of them.

"Why didn't you say that to them, then?" the blonde boy hops down from the lamppost he was on. "Your friends, I mean."

I can't help the huff that escapes me. "I don't think they'd care to listen."

"You mean that the Schnee would not care." the one with the Look says, and for a moment some emotion I can't quite identify comes up in his eyes. "… I do not think the other two have anything blinding them the same way; not with the way that the younger one called out to you as you ran."

My eyes widen as I stare at him in disbelief. How much of that argument did he hear? How did he even hear so much? Was he eavesdropping outside our dorm? How'd I not hear him following us?

"You were louder than you might have thought," he answers as bluntly as if he could read my mind. "And I know a thing or two about staying unseen; it is a good skill to have as a Huntsman."

I can't help but frown. "Did you both stow away on that ship earlier?"

He nods. "It was either that or waste dear lien on tickets," he answers as his eyes narrow again. "Quicker, as well, and I have utmost need of time for what I'm here to do."

I feel like I'm being backed into a corner as he slowly starts walking again.

"The news of many a dust shop, train and even ship being robbed by the White Fang throughout this Kingdom has reached far and wide, even well beyond it. Given that Roman Torchwick is also doing the same thing here, I cannot help but wonder if he and they have something to do with one another."

Sun's already looking at him when his expression grows excited. "You mean they might be working together in some big, underground criminal conspiracy?"

"Or two sides of a gang war."

Something about the way he says that isn't especially convincing, but Sun doesn't seem to notice this.

"Whoa—sounds pretty big, either way!"

My eyes dart between the two in confusion. "… What? No, that doesn't make any sense. The White Fang would never involve themselves with a human like him; there's nothing he could offer us. There's no point putting a target on his back either, he's not part of the Establishment."

The one with the Look turns his gaze to meet mine. After a moment or so of silence he remarks: "You would know, wouldn't you?"

The way he says that causes it to click after a moment. "You want my help."

"If you're willing to lend it."

My eyes narrow. "… And if I'm not?"

"Then I will not make you." He uncrosses his arms and starts walking past me.

That abrupt answer from him catches me off-guard; I was expecting some kind of plea.

"… It's that simple?"

"I have no time to waste on begging or blackmail." He responds plainly, without even turning his head back. "If you wish to go your own way, you have that right; I will not stop you."

It takes me a few seconds to process that. Nobody else says anything for a moment, and as I turn my head to look at… Sun, that was it… he seems as surprised as I am.

"Okay… that's unusual," I hear him mumble.

"What is?"

He tenses up as I ask this, and his eyes widen a fair amount.

"Um, nothing!" He shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then turns back to me. "Anyway, do you know anywhere we might be able to stay for a bit? My team's not coming early with me, so Rook and I may be kinda… well, stuck roughing it for a bit."