"Can we talk tonight? Something happened at the Sparring Team meeting. I have a feeling it's going to get out. Everyone will have a slightly different take on what exactly happened, so before you hear it anywhere else, I want to tell you the truth."

Lazula sent the message off to Lilly, and clutched her Holoband to her chest as she braced herself against the rain and bitter wind.

Lazula's dorm was minimally decorated, more a place to sleep and do homework than anything. The shelf next to the window was lined with gold, trophies and medals packed in as tightly as the space would allow. Pictures of herself from various tournaments and sponsored shoots were set to the back of the shelf below, providing a background for all the complimentary junk the sponsors sprung upon her.

She hardly even had room for company. Lilly sat at the dorm's uniform chair and desk, leaving Lazula to sit at the edge of her bed with legs crossed, elbows on her knees, hands halfway covering her face. She sighed, and emerged from behind them. "I'll just get right into it I guess," she decided. "At practice today, Moka challenged me, and I agreed to spar her. Things were going okay until… I saw something."

"You saw something?" Lilly prodded.

"Yeah. Sometimes I don't just hear things. I've seen things before– always the same scene, too. It's cold, it looks like Mistral, maybe. There are bodies, and blood stains all over the ground. It looks like the aftermath of a war or something." She rubbed both of her cheeks. "But today, it didn't feel like a hallucination. It felt like I was there. Instead of Moka, I saw someone else, and I don't know how to explain it, but I thought she was trying to kill me. I used my semblance on her. All of it. I hit her with the kind of force I only ever use against Grimm." Tears burst across her cheeks, and she curled back behind her knees. "I could have killed her, Lilly. I almost did."

"Oh, gods… is she okay?"

Another sigh. "I could tell she was hurt, but I left before I could make sure." She shook her head, and huffed back the next round of tears that threatened to come. "They didn't want me near her, I could tell. They looked at me like some kind of monster."

The hand that came to rest on Lazula's knee was warm. "That's not who you are," Lilly assured. "I know you didn't mean to. I know that without a doubt, Lazula. But you ended up hurting someone. I really think you need to find someone to talk to before this gets even worse. Please."

Lazula had hoped she wouldn't say that. She hoped she would have said anything else. But she knew it was true. If she had any chance of recovery, not even the "Indomitable Girl" could do it alone.

"...Okay," Lazula accepted. "I'll go to Frontline tomorrow. I'll talk to my doctor. Maybe she knows how to help."


Schizophrenia.

The word was long, awkward. Painful to even look at. Hanging like a broken limb at the top of the questionnaire she plodded through as the ping of her doctor's fingers on her keyboard echoed through her skull. The translucent sky blue of the Holoscreen in her lap reflected the walls of the examination room, and the one-way glass looking out to the colossal structure of gold lifted only by gravity dust. One by one, she answered the questions the screen presented her.

"I believe that others are capable of reading my thoughts."

No.

"People sometimes have difficulty understanding what I say."

No.

"My sexual drive has decreased recently."

That's a little personal, don't you think?

"I often see or hear things that aren't really there."

Yes.

"Alright. I'm done," Lazula announced. Her doctor thanked her and slid the Holo into a slot that locked into her own computer's screen, right next to a plaque that read "Dr. Ifuru."

Dr. Ifuru ran her fingers down her audaciously yellow braids as she read through Lazula's responses. "Well, I do have good news," she said, closing out the Holo. "Based off your responses to the questionnaire and cognitive exams, it's incredibly unlikely that you have schizophrenia."

"Okay, that's good," Lazula accepted. "So what's up?"

"That we can't be sure of yet," Dr. Ifuru answered. "We have a couple of options moving on from here; the first of which would be an fMRI. It would let us get a look into active brain functioning, and maybe show us the origin of these hallucinations you've been experiencing."

"Okay."

"The second option, if we don't find any abnormalities in the brain, would be a soul analysis. We can get a measure of your aura and soul, and though both have less structure than the brain we can detect abnormalities. Unfortunately, neither of these tend to be covered by insurance, so–"

"Doesn't matter. Do both. I just want to figure out what's going on."

"Both procedures can run over fifteen thousand lien, but if you're certain we can schedule a follow-up as soon as Monday."

"That's nothing. And Monday works, thank you."


Noxis sat upright in his hospital bed, unfocused eyes open toward the Holo on the far wall. He tapped the remote, and the screen switched from the Huntsman League station, to some banal-looking sitcom, through a couple of advertisements and to a nature documentary. The faunus's sheets bunched up at his waist, under the single fist that clasped them. The remains of his right arm hung at his side, useless.

The door opened. Not until the Headmaster spoke did dull eyes turn his way. They sharpened only slightly as they focused on their unexpected guest, though the bags beneath still weighed them down.

"What are you doing here?"

"As Headmaster, I first wanted to check up on you, see how you're doing."

"Fan-tastic," Noxis grumbled. "Missing an arm, it still hurts to walk, and you're the first human I've spoken to in three days." He cracked a knuckle. "I'll never be able to hunt again, and if Condor finds out I'm still alive he'll be back to finish the job."

"We'll do everything in our power to make sure that isn't the case," the Headmaster pledged. He grabbed the chair by the desk at the far wall, and sat half the room away. "But, I want to say from Headmaster to student, I'm proud of you. You made the right choice, and stood up to one of the most dangerous men in the world. I hope this is the beginning of you finding the right path forward."

"Sure doesn't feel like I made the right choice," Noxis protested. He clutched his stump arm. "Feels like I'm being punished."

"I understand completely. After defeating Vladimir Garnett and the Church of Awakening, my spine was injured so badly they didn't think I'd walk again. It was three years before I took my first steps without help. But, luckily, medical technology has advanced so far that not even the loss of a limb is irreversible." He touched his hand to his own back. "Or a severed spine."

"What, you trying to give me a new arm, courtesy of Frontline?" Noxis spat. "If that's the case, I'd rather be put down."

"Frontline isn't the only company that makes prosthetics," the Headmaster countered. "I have a contact with a smaller company from Mistral. We'd have to transfer you out there, but they can supply you with a prosthetic arm that takes feedback directly from neurological signals, and has all the fine motor control of a human arm. It'll be like an extension of your own body." a sly smile traced his lips. "And, consider this. They're a direct competitor to Frontline."

Noxis didn't offer a reply. His eyes toed the border between curiosity and skepticism.

The Headmaster plucked a small card from his breast pocket. "You'll find more information at the address on this card. I can't control your decision– this is entirely up to you. But I recommend you at least consider it."


Lazula knew Frontline didn't mean to make its patients feel insignificant, but the staggering scale of the conical dome of windows and terraces made even her feel a bit small. Three waiting areas stuck out from the central foyer in a perfect triangle, each with at least a hundred seats facing a three-sided Holoscreen in the middle. Even so, they were only about a fifth as large as the center. One held patients for urgent care, and opened to an airship pad. The waiting area at the far end was open for visitors, and the third for patients waiting on scheduled appointments.

She sat at the outer edge of the third circle, eyes flicking over the dozen or so who waited for an android to fetch them. Luckily, nobody even bothered with a glance her way. Maybe her disguise of a black surgical mask and baseball cap pulled down over her eyes worked. She snapped her Holoband straight and extended it into a tablet, curling up behind her knees and covering her mouth as she held the tablet to her ear.

"Hi, Lilly," she murmured.

"Hi, how did it go?"

"I don't know," Lazula admitted. "She just had me do some questionnaires and basic assessments today. Based on my responses, it doesn't look like I have schizophrenia or anything like that."

"That's great!"

"...I don't know," Lazula answered. She lowered her voice even further, hardly above a whisper. "This is probably really stupid, but I almost wish they did diagnose me. According to her, my brain and my mind are just about normal." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "But I know they aren't. I just want to figure out what's wrong with me."

Their call was brief. She appreciated Lilly's care for her, but didn't want to chance a big mouth hearing their conversation. As Lazula slung her bag over her shoulder and zipped up her raincoat she caught her name, and for a second winced at the thought of someone recognizing her. But she realized the voice was borne from the Holographic centerpiece, which displayed footage of her championship loss to Sterling. The image shrunk and moved aside for an interview between him and a flawlessly made-up sportscaster with platinum blonde hair that gleamed under the light.

"The tournament was eclipsed by everything that happened afterward, but there was talk about this moment for weeks!" The caster said. Lazula decided to stay tuned, spitefully curious of what would come tumbling out of Sterling's mouth. "Now you're up to four straight tournament wins, looking to make it five when the Nikos Tournament makes its way to Atlas for the first time in a couple of months. Do you think the Academy League has a new frontrunner?"

Sterling smirked, and Lazula felt as if his eyes met hers from halfway across the world. "Well, I'm not the one who said it!" The two shared a chuckle, the sportscaster's hand coming to rest on his arm. "But we'll see. For now I'm just focused on the Nikos tournament. One win at a time, you know?"

"People have noticed Lazula Skye has been pretty quiet lately. We're not seeing a lot from her. But just the other day, this rumor popped up that she's actually an android! Have you heard about that? What do you think?"

"An android. Right, now that's what they think about me," she muttered. She knew the mainstream sports stations were just entertainment watered-down for the lowest common denominator, part of the reason she made a point to avoid them. But this kind of sensational nonsense was low for even them.

"Well, I don't know. But right now, this isn't about her," Sterling dismissed. "I guess it does make some sense though, now that I think about it!"

No, it didn't. None of it made any sense. She had memories from fifteen years prior, long before even the First Generation. She remembered the initial announcement. Sure Snow could simulate all of it, but Lazula ate, drank, and slept like a person. And felt plenty of emotion. And after all, it was a bit of tongue-in-cheek trivia that Frontline's androids were legally incapable of using profanity– and everyone remembered the live-broadcasted F-Bomb she dropped on an audience of twenty-five million.

Why didn't they bother asking if Midas –the jovial, perfectly-sculpted son of the man who made androids– was one of them?

"Lazula?"

This time, she was sure the voice didn't come from a Holoscreen. She balled a fist, swallowed hard, and turned to face her father.

"Dad? What's up, why are you here?"

He adjusted his glasses, and for a second his eyes were lost to the reflection on his lenses. "Paying a visit to one Noxis Orion," he explained. "But I could ask the same of you."

"You could, but I'd rather you didn't."

Lazula bit back her instinctual response. "Just in for a checkup."

"Didn't you have one in October?" he pried.

"That was to look at an injury I got on the first. Either way, I don't think it's any of your business."

"Well… I heard what happened at Sparring Team practice," he admitted. "That doesn't sound like you. I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I…" Lazula trailed off. "Alright," even, was a bit far. "...I'm not," she whispered. "I've been hearing voices, and seeing things, and–" she stopped herself from going any further, swallowed her words to pause and consider how much she really wanted to share. "That's why that happened at sparring practice. I thought I saw someone else, and I used my semblance on them."

Mr. Skye nodded slowly. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that. But who did you see?"

"I don't know. A man in red, with a shield and a lance. He was soaked in blood, and I thought he was going to kill me."

Lazula could have sworn her father's eyes widened for a half a second. But all he said was "I see."

"They don't even know what's wrong. I'm coming back Monday for an MRI, and one of their soul analyses–"
"Soul analysis?"

"Yeah. It sounds like the issue isn't related to my brain at all. Which freaks me out even more, honestly."

"You don't need one. The MRI should tell you everything you need," the Headmaster decided.

"But if it doesn't, I'm getting the analysis."

"No. They're expensive, and they're still largely experimental because so few people ever receive them. It would be a waste of time and money."

"It's not your money, or your time. I have plenty of both."

A third deep, husky voice called out from behind them. A voice Lazula had only heard through a screen or a microphone. Anyone else, at any other time, would have been starstruck by the black suit of fine Vacuoan cashmere and perfectly-groomed beard. But Lazula balled her fist by her hip and wished Griswold Baine would go crawl right back up the tower he came from.

"Headmaster," he nodded. "Ms. Skye. Always a pleasure, both of you."

"Mm-hm," Lazula grumbled. Her father's cordial reply better hid the tension.

"I just happened to be passing by, but I've been meaning to ask you, Ms. Skye. Would you be free to spar with a few of my androids sometime soon? They learn through combat, and with everything going on I'd like them to learn from the very best out there."

"Oh, sure," Lazula agreed. "Can we do it in a little bit though? I'm a bit… preoccupied, right now. A few weeks should do. Hopefully."

"Yes, of course. School comes first, doesn't it?"

"Right."

"Actually, Griswold, she won't be able to," the Headmaster countered rigidly.

"The young lady seems to want to," Mr. Baine suggested.

"But as her father, I'm telling you she can't. Is Midas available?"

"He is, but Lazula surpasses even him," Griswold answered. "But, I won't argue with a father's judgment." he clapped the Headmaster on his shoulder with a twinkle in black eyes. "I'll be seeing you. Lazula, pleasure to meet you."

"So, am I able to decide anything for myself?" Lazula questioned, once Griswold was again out of earshot. "It's better I spar androids right now than people, considering what happened."

The Headmaster's eyes were cold, detached behind his lenses. "No. You're not sparring with his Organds. And you're not getting that soul analysis." Then, pointedly; "I'll see you later."

On her way back to campus, a question she'd earlier discarded returned to nag her. Suddenly, being an android made a bit more sense. She was stronger than the average human. Just like Snow, despite the android's almost frail figure. Her undefeated tournament run began just as Organds were becoming popular. Everything before that– all of her memories– probably easy enough to program. Caspian, her "twin" brother, didn't look much like her. And his personality was even more different. But if that were true, he, and Lilly, and all of her family and friends must have been in on it.

After all, her father let her be armed during the Arum Ceddrak scare. She'd figured it was to protect Snow. But was she protecting herself as well, without even knowing it? He was killed trying to "purge" the first of four androids on campus, so who were the other three? If he was right about Snow, he must've been right about the others.

And her own father refused to let her get the soul analysis. Because if she did, she'd learn the truth. She never had a soul in the first place.

She hated how much of it began to make sense.

"Lilly?" she spoke into her Holoband. "Sorry to bother you so much about all this. But I have something I need to ask you."


An hour passed, during which the racing doubt refused to relent. By the time she came back to reality, she was back in the Madrona Hall elevator. Lilly already waited by her door.

"I was able to visit Moka for a bit today. Caspian was there too," Lilly said once they made it inside, probably in an attempt to alleviate any amount of the tension that suffocated the dormitory. "She's doing alright. She had a concussion and a couple more cuts and bruises, so she's still resting. But she'll be okay."

Lazula let out a breath with her nod. "That's good," she allowed. Her gaze held Lilly's own eyes captive. "But, I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to promise you'll tell me the truth. I don't want you to lie to spare my feelings, and I don't care who's told you to keep quiet about this."

Lilly's brows faltered and she swallowed, her thumb running back and forth across a groove in her seat's armrest. "Okay. I promise."

"Am I an android?"

"I heard about that just this morning, I was wondering if the theory had reached you," Lilly responded. She shook her head. "I promise you, you're a human."

"I need you to be honest with me!" Lazula pleaded. "It's starting to make too much sense."

Lilly opened her mouth but stood instead, reaching for one of the few books bordering the trophies on Lazula's shelf. "The book I got you last Winter Holiday. This should be proof enough." She opened the floral-printed hardcover binder toward the front, and offered it to Lazula. "Look."

Lazula flipped gently through the catalog of memories, taking in for a second each cardstock-framed snapshot of their lives. First was a costume party. Lilly, dressed as a butterfly, and the scrawny blue-haired girl dressed as a knight, couldn't have been more than six or seven. Then, she and Lilly at a petting zoo, each holding a bunny and beaming with a complete set of teeth between them. A few years down the line, a selfie at their yearly Lago Del Sol trip. The timeline continued through Lazula's tournament years, up to the party they had just a couple days before coming to Sentinel.

"These are some of my most precious memories, Lazula. Do you think they're all fake? Do you think I would lie about this?"

Lazula paused. Not out of doubt; to fight off the tears that threatened to come.

"...No."

Lilly nodded, but her smile was soon replaced by something wistful, almost sad-looking. "Something has been bugging me a bit, ever since you told me about the voices, and told me you feel you can tell me anything," she said. "It's that… I don't feel the same about you. There's something I've been hiding from you for a long time, and I know this is the worst possible time to tell you, but I can't keep it down anymore." Lazula let her compose herself with a deep breath. "I'm into women, Lazula. And I'm sorry I never told you."

"Lilly, that's okay!" she saw tears spring from behind the hands that clutched her reddened face. Without knowing what else to do she left her own seat, and wrapped her arms around her. She felt the faunus quiver in her embrace. She had no idea what else to say. Of course it was fine with her– if anything she felt bad Lilly was so inclined to hide it for so long. "That's okay, Lilly. And, thank you for telling me now."

Then, Lilly spoke into Lazula's shoulder. "I'm into you."

The two separated.

"Oh, Lilly. You're a beautiful, amazing person," Lazula assured. "But I'm… I'm not–" Lilly's head shrunk below hunched shoulders as if Lazula held Impetus above her, ready to bring it down on her neck. "...I'm not ready for a relationship, or dating, or anything like that right now. I don't think I could give you the kind of attention you deserve."

Lilly wouldn't speak to her that weekend. Lazula figured it must've been out of embarrassment. Sure, her timing wasn't optimal, but she still wanted to talk to her best friend. She wanted to let her know how flattered she was, and if nothing else forgive her for hiding that for however many weeks, months, years she had been. But every time she tried to get the words in order something would be wrong, so she settled on nothing at all.

Despite her father's warning, she set out for her appointment Monday morning in running tights, a tank top, and her signature blue and gold running model running shoes. No one, not even her father, could suspect her for going out for a morning jog after all.

At the doctor's request, Lazula hoisted herself onto the firm grey leather of the examination bed. Dr. Ifuru fixed a glowing white helmet over her head, and she felt the bed advance halfway into the white, donut-shaped machine that took up half the room.

"What's going on?"

For the first time, she welcomed the hallucination. With any luck, some long word or another in her brain would light up, and she'd finally figure out what was wrong with her.

When she returned to the primary examination room with Dr. Ifuru, three sets of images already projected above the doctor's computer. The middle column labeled "patient" was almost a direct match to the column on the left, "control." The right-most column, labeled "condition," cycled through scans with differing activity– less glowing regions across the brain scan, more, activation in different areas– none of it came close to matching the center.

"So as you can probably see when we compare your scans with a healthy control, there's almost no difference," Dr. Ifuru assessed. "We do see slightly reduced hippocampal activation, but this is likely due to the instances of post-traumatic stress you've experienced over the last few months. I don't think it's related to your hallucinations."

"So… the brain looks normal?" Lazula guessed.

"I don't see any areas of immediate concern," the doctor confirmed. "So we'll go ahead with the soul analysis today. Give me a minute to double check on the order, and I'll take you over there." She moved her mouse halfway across the pad, clicked, and typed a few words. Something must have surprised her. "Actually, it looks like you've already had one performed."

"What? I don't remember ever doing it."

Dr. Ifuru bid a slight smile. "That makes sense. It looks like you were only about three months old." Her kindly look shifted with a blink. She adjusted her glasses, leaning in toward her computer with a furrowed brow. "...Oh."

"What? What's up?"

"That soul analysis came back with some unusual results. What I'm about to tell you might be a little surprising," Dr. Ifuru gently warned. "So I want to make sure you're ready to hear it."

"Tell me, please."

"Your body holds the souls of four hundred and sixty people."

"No, that... that doesn't make any sense," Lazula muttered. "Let me see."

"I understand this is probably a lot to take in," Dr. Ifuru acknowledged. The screen blinked to face Lazula. "Judging by the chart notes, your father would know more about this than I do."

Lazula's hands came up to clasp between her lips and chin, and she shook her head. Her chest felt tight and she couldn't tell if she was having trouble breathing, or if it had started to come too fast. She shook her head further behind her hands. "What the fuck?" she mumbled into them. "What the fuck?"

The golden eyesore hanging above the entry foyer creaked under its own weight, echoing off the glass that tapered to a point three hundred feet up. One foot followed another, and she couldn't tell whether she wanted to jog home, or sprint, or if she had the energy to run at all. She could stop by the water, look out at the sea for a few minutes to let it sink in: she didn't win twelve straight tournaments because she had skills honed by training for hours each day, working out for even longer, or sticking to a carefully prescribed diet. Of course she was stronger than anyone else. Nobody was the host of four hundred and sixty stolen souls.

She stopped, finding her way out of the tower interrupted. In the center of the empty path, lit by the pale late-Autumn Sun pouring in through a thousand windows, a slim figure supported by a cane. As her eyes locked with the dull green of her father's, a sampling of four hundred and sixty passing hues glimmered in her eyes.