It had taken days and Vale only had a façade of normalcy. The truth was that with the amount of lives and livelihoods lost, Vale could never hope to become normal in so short a time. A section of the Commercial District has been allocated to be what has come to be named as the heroes' cemetery. Dedicated to those who had defended the kingdom, the names were of those who had been confirmed dead. It was mainly to give some kind of hope that those lost would be found, however long that it would last.
For Pyrrha Nikos, such hope could never come to be. With Crocea Mors by her side, she put down the flowers that she had bought for Jaune. Every day, she would be here. Every day, she would light candles and give flowers, trim the grass and weeds that grew too big that it would start to cover his gravestone. A slab of stone that rested on the ground, containing Jaune's name. The portrait had that small smile of his, almost shy with a little awkwardness. Looking at it hurts every time. On one hand, she didn't ever want to forget even the littlest detail of his face. On the other, it is reminder that it is one of the only times that she would ever see him again.
It was a humble display. Had she had her way, she would have had her partner in a mausoleum with Crocea Mors hanging there on the wall. Everyone who passed by here would know that it was one of the defenders of Vale that rests here, a hero deserving of recognition. He may not have some name or fame attached but Jaune deserved it that much in her eyes.
People past by her, ignoring her presence. Many recognized her but none acted. No fan came in for an autograph nor a picture. They all knew why she was here; they were there for similar reasons. Ironic. The one time she could use a distraction would be the time that none wouldn't want to take her attention away. Then again, she wasn't sure what she'd do if anyone did.
She shook her head. She was being unreasonable, can't have it both ways.
"Sorry, am I interrupting anything?"
Pyrrha turned around and recognized the tall boy who stood next to her. He had a candle with him as well, two in fact. "Cardin?"
"I'm sorry. I'll come back later." He was about to walk away before Pyrrha stopped him.
"No." Pyrrha shook her head. Her voice was weak and coarse. She coughed to clear her throat. "No. Go ahead."
Cardin Winchester had to be sure before he placed his candle down. After a moment of silence, he spoke again saying, "I never got a chance to make it up to the guy. I remember how he threw himself at that Ursa." He laughed bitterly. "Man, I was pathetic. Me, the trained huntsman, running away from a bloody Ursa. Him? Mister no training and got into Beacon through forgery went ahead and took it head-on. I'd call him stupid and reckless, throwing his life away like that. Probably even holding all of you back with his lies. Took him a while to even catch up and even then, he was at the bottom…"
Pyrrha's hand clenched into a fist. But Cardin continued, ignorant of her building frustration. Now that Jaune was gone, did Cardin really think that he could say mean things about him? Jaune may be kind enough to let it be but Pyrrha would break his legs if Cardin kept insulting him.
"… and he's a better man than I'll ever be. I should be saying I told you so or something. But really, he shouldn't be down there right now. He could do more, more than I ever could."
She paused. Her fist loosened as her shoulders dropped.
"It should have been me you know? Not just Jaune but Sky too." His eyes looked tired. Despite his physical size, Cardin was much smaller than her in this moment. He shrunk down as he continued to stare at Jaune's portrait.
"I'm sorry." Pyrrha wasn't the only one who lost someone. The proof was in the graves surrounding them all.
"Anyway, I need to go to Sky too." Cardin bade her farewell. That explains the extra candle. "Sky is much further away. I suppose I could use the exercise. Just wanted to let it out to Jauney-boy before I go. Gods know I don't have the guts to come back here again."
Pyrrha looked down again at the stone slab that had Jaune's name on it. There was an epitaph below the name. It was a common one used for the departed. It had the following:
For it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Her hand rested on the hilt of Crocea Mors. The metal rattled until her hands began to hurt. She should have been stronger. She should have been faster. She should not have forgotten her semblance. Her years of being a huntress should have meant that she couldn't lose her head in critical moments. Pyrrha had no excuse. She should not have been hesitant. She shouldn't have faltered. She shouldn't have failed.
She then buried herself in her hands. How many times had she cried now? How does she still have tears left to shed? It was unsightly, seeing the Invincible Girl become this. She didn't wear any make-up. Good. It would have been ruined anyway. Pyrrha struggled to keep her voice from leaking out. Still, whimpers could be heard coming from her. Was this what losing felt like?
The light breeze threatened to douse the candles' flame. Old flowers were wilting with the browned leaves already having been snapped away. It was getting old. The season of fa—autumn was ending. In times like these, she would have felt his warm hands on her shoulders. Always there for her. He would say that it was only right because she was always there for him. But that night? That night when she needed to be there most? She failed. Pyrrha Nikos failed. The girl who always won lost.
Sobs continued. Passersby didn't pay her any mind; they all felt the same thing, though their stories differed in details. They could only look at her with empathy. Everyone there understood. Some began to cry as well, reminded of their own loss.
Her fingers soon traced the marks on the back of her other hand. It was covered by the glove that she wore. Headmaster Ozpin had given her time while he was busy as a councilman in the rebuilding of Vale, leaving Beacon to Glynda. As an added measure, teams RWBY and JNPR were made into fully-fledged huntsmen and huntresses. Those that were here anyway; Weiss had been taken back to Atlas, Blake had run away, and Yang didn't even seem to want it anymore.
It was a hollow thing. Both Pyrrha and Ruby understood the reason behind it. It wasn't out of recognition of their actions but for the things to come that they needed to prepare. They wouldn't be able to if they only had their student licenses. The professional status granted them privileges that mere students could not have.
Jaune should have had his with them. He should have been there with the rest of his team as they received their licenses, no matter how hollow it may seem. Pyrrha had nearly torn her own. It just didn't feel the same. Not like this. Never like this. He deserved to have gotten that far at least. He shouldn't have met his end here. All because of some secret power that she had to keep and now a secret war on top of that as well.
A Holy Grail War, she thought. How many more secrets did Ozpin keep? He had assured them that he would tell them all that he knows including those that he never told his closest allies like Qrow Branwen. He gave them time to grieve though and Pyrrha made full use of that as she knows that her time with Jaune here would come to an end.
"They already did come by," she whispered. Shaking her head, she stood back up. Pyrrha didn't leave just yet, preferring to stick around just a while longer. Just a little longer, please. Please, let her stay a little longer. She'd rather remain here if she could. "Ren and Nora are waiting for me… Jaune." It took effort for her to say his name. That effort was spent forcing it out despite the pain in her throat in doing so.
When she turned, she paused. Another man was approaching. Much older but had that same blonde hair. His features were akin to that of Jaune if he were older. His face was old and haggard. He had a beard. There could be no mistaking it. Jaune had talked about them once or twice.
"You're—"
"Jacques Arc," he replied. He recognized her in an instant. Whether that was from her fame or from what Jaune had told them was anyone's guess. "You must be Pyrrha Nikos, my son's partner."
He too had flowers and candles on him. Jaune's grave had a lot by now. Nora and Ren had come with her but left earlier, saying that they would wait for her and give her time. They both reminded her that she wasn't alone and that they are still there as family.
The flowers were pure white. She didn't recognize them but they were certainly new and fresh, most of the flowers here were. The candles were lit and Jacques had to find some place where it wouldn't fall to the side or take up the surrounding space. The flowers and leaves were quite large that part of his name had been covered by them.
Standing there in silence, offering his prayers for about a minute, Jacques Arc turned to her and asked, "how did my son die?" There was a tiredness to him. As a huntsman, he must not have been a stranger to death. Yet, he seemed uncertain of what to do.
For a moment, Pyrrha hesitated to answer. She didn't want to relive those images again, still fresh in her mind. It was as though she was still there in that pod. Pyrrha mustered just enough strength to speak weakly. "A hero. He never gave in. He kept going."
A bitter chuckle escaped Jacques' lips. "Stubborn, you mean. I saw what you all did, during the Vytal Tournament. He did pretty good. I take it that you and the rest of his team helped him? I'm sure he wasn't the best combatant."
Right. Jaune never went to any of the combat schools. "For someone who hasn't had any training, he seemed to keep up as far back as the initiation," Pyrrha replied. Jaune certainly had the stamina to keep running with them. Looking back at it, he might have had some conditioning at least.
"Is that what he saw it? I suppose I don't blame him. I should have been harsher on the boy. Should have made sure that he was willing to commit if he really wanted to be a huntsman."
Pyrrha didn't reply. Why didn't you train him? He said that none of you believed in him.
Jacques never looked at her direction. "He never took much of anything seriously." Had he read her mind? Or was Pyrrha that obvious? "When he said he wanted to be a huntsman, by then, I had been convinced that it would be like any other thing he tried to do. He always liked the idea of being someone great but never really liked the steps in getting there."
"I mean; he did sleep in class a few times, sir." To be fair, that was Port's class. Everyone does that but Jaune did so during the first few days and even flirted with Weiss there. There was also doctor Oobleck's class but few people could ever keep up with the man. Most would usually try to be good students at first, if only to secure a good first impression or figure out if the professor is strict.
"Being a huntsman wasn't the only thing he tried." Jacques Arc didn't seem surprised at the revelation. "He tried to be a musician once. Then, I think there was a time he wanted to be an influencer was it? Every time it was the same: he would try to take on too much and burn himself out quickly. Huntsman was among them as well. I tried to train him, physically at least. Condition him as much as I could. Commitment had always been his problem since before Beacon."
"What happened?" Pyrrha asked.
"Much like any other time." He faced the skies above. He sighed. "He started to lose interest. I thought that perhaps he was planning to give up like he did before, so I didn't take the training seriously as I should have. Even when he made it to Beacon, I didn't think he would make it far. Imagine my surprise when I saw him on the television participating in the Vytal Tournament, as team leader no less."
Jacques Arc had a trace of pride before that too faded away, replaced by the reminder that he no longer had his son with him. A parent had to bury his own child that night.
Pyrrha's eyes looked down, to the sword and collapsed shield of Crocea Mors. Now would be the best time for it. She didn't want to impose, especially if they wanted it back. She presented Jaune's family heirloom to his father. "Sir, the sword—"
"Keep it." Jacques didn't let her finish as he shook his head. He couldn't even look at it. "Use it for whatever reason you see fit."
"But sir, isn't this a family heirloom?" It was also stolen, if Pyrrha recalled.
"It is." Jacques nodded. "It's also a reminder that I had to bury my own son." Shame filled his voice. "And that he died thinking—knowing, that I never believed in him when I, more than anyone else, should have."
"I understand, sir." Pyrrha bowed her head and kept Crocea Mors by her side. "I'll… I'll leave you two alone." She had enough time here. She couldn't hog all of Jaune's time, as much as she wanted to.
Jacques was quiet. "Thank you," he whispered weakly. His head bowed and his form was small. Pyrrha could see traces of a proud huntsman in him but that had been dashed away at the sight of that stone slab. As huntsmen and huntresses, they would give away their lives so that their children would live. But for the father of the Arc family, he had failed in that singular purpose.
Every once in a while, Pyrrha would turn around at the shrinking figure of Jaune's slab of stone as she walked further away. His father was still there, his face buried in his hands. Her own lips trembled again. Her partner was more than simply her partner and friend. He had been a son and a brother. She looked down in shame. If she had been faster, stronger, then Jaune would still be around. He would still have been with his family. Maybe even face them with pride and confidence. Perhaps, Jaune had already proven himself to them.
Should I have told him? Despite pushing him away, Jaune was the first to her side when things went terrible during that Vytal Tournament. Would things had turned out any different if he had known earlier? Would he shout at her? No. He wouldn't. Jaune was nice like that. He would have helped her along even. Take up the burden himself if he could.
She turned around one more time. Should she have told his father? Would Jacques Arc berate her? Could she even face that anger of having failed to protect his son? Her, Pyrrha Nikos, Invincible Girl, chosen to take up a burden that would protect everyone, failed to protect one of the very few she intended to protect.
No. I-I can't keep thinking like this. There were many others who also needed her. If she could, she would bring him back. But if she could not, then all she had to do is make sure that no one else would go through what she did. If only, I could see you one more time, Jaune. Just… one more time.
Exiting the cemetery, Pyrrha Nikos was ignored by the common populace. There was a bitter chuckle. Out of all the times where she would be treated as though she were anyone else, it would be the one time where she could use the distraction. Then again, she'd be irritated if they did do that.
The repairs were still ongoing. Construction crews were busy rebuilding and repairing much of the destroyed infrastructure with the rest making the most of their current circumstances. Taking some lien out of her pocket, Pyrrha gave to a nearby beggar. Their clothes were far too clean and they were too articulate to be some bum in the streets. They had lost their homes and their livelihoods too. Without much in the way of communications, Pyrrha couldn't get into contact with any of her sponsors. Call her names but so long as it helped people around, she'll accept whatever accusations of taking advantage that would be thrown her way. People needed something to get back on their feet; it would be a small price to pay.
Her home, if one could call it that, was back in Beacon. Much of the school had been destroyed. Most of her things were ruined and there was little to be salvaged. Their old dorm was practically gone and Pyrrha, along with Nora and Ren, had to move out of the school and find some place to stay. With Pyrrha's funding, that was of little consequence with the only issue being finding one closer to the school. Most of the students that didn't have homes in Vale or knew someone that did.
The apartment that they stayed was good for four. Pyrrha felt that absence of one more individual because she was the one who had to sleep next to an empty bed. It gave them quite the space which was even bigger than their dorms given that most of their things were either destroyed or burned beyond repair. Only their weapons and what they had on their backs were brought here. There was a lot of room for them to move in. A lot of space that should have been taken by one more person.
Nora and Ren had already left. There was a note that said that they were already on the way to the Xiao-Long-Rose family household. They would be sleeping over there if Pyrrha wanted to join them. She sighed. Pyrrha won't be joining them, not tonight anyway. Unveiling the three marks on the back of her hand, she had other plans for tonight. Washing up, she donned her combat attire again. Crocea Mors was strapped to her side.
Her first order of business was to go back to Beacon Academy. On the way, she caught sight of what huntsmen and huntresses chose to remain in Vale. Many of her fellow students—former now, she supposed—went to other schools, choosing to continue their education. Headmaster Ozpin had offered them on account of their service in Vale's defense but most had enough wisdom to know that they weren't ready if this was to happen. Besides, if they were incapable of defending Vale and Beacon as they are, what makes anyone think that being made into professionals so soon would be any different? Only her and Ruby's team didn't have much in the way of choice. Not after being made into Masters by some unknown force. Surely, she wasn't the only one who had strong wishes.
Unsurprisingly, the first thing Pyrrha had seen upon returning to Beacon's grounds is the sight of deputy headmistress Glynda Goodwitch hard at work handling anything and everything relating to Beacon Academy. With the headmaster more focused on the greater scale of Vale, the blonde-haired disciplinarian had complete control of the school's repairs. Funding had already been allocated here by the Council and had already begun. Parts were replaced with many of those too damaged to be repaired already having quite the pile. Marble stones were carried away to be repurposed as building materials. Beacon already lost much of its artistic designs. Some were being sold away to offset the costs, for however much they could.
She stood in front of the broken statue. Nothing much remained of it other than the base. Pyrrha could still remember passing by here the first time she stepped into the school. That first day where a certain blonde dork had caught her attention.
Enough looking back. Pyrrha had places to go, a process she needed to see and a Heroic Spirit she needed to summon.
"Miss Nikos, you're here." Professor Goodwitch had seen her first. She was buried in paperwork. "Ozpin isn't available right now. Though he did mention that he will be at the Xiao-Long-Rose residence by tomorrow. You know where that is, right?"
"Patch." Pyrrha remembered. It wasn't hard to find it either being an island. "I am told that he also had something else for me?"
"Yes." Goodwitch took out a box full of Dust-infused chalk from her pocket and an old notebook. "Ozpin had used one of these when he summoned his. Have you a catalyst with you?"
She shook her head. "I think it would be best if I only get one that is closest to me." What kind of catalyst would she even use? For a moment, her hand traced over Crocea Mors. No. It wouldn't work. At best, she would get Jaune's great-great-grandfather, if he had enough of a legend at all. She never did learn about that history all this time.
Seemingly satisfied, Goodwitch gave Pyrrha the chalk and the notes. "Do you need a place? I can have one arranged just for you."
Pyrrha shook her head. "I'll wait until tonight. Less witnesses that way. Thank you, professor."
"Of course, miss Nikos," the professor replied. "Again, I'm sorry for your loss. Mister Arc was… a good student. None of you should have experienced this so early."
Pyrrha chuckled weakly. It was no secret to anyone, professor Goodwitch especially, that Jaune wasn't the best student in Beacon. With the truth of the matter being known to her, it shouldn't be a surprise at all. Still, Jaune had that earnest determination to him. Remembering the words of Jacques Arc, perhaps Jaune had finally found something worth taking seriously in the end.
Sighing, she continued onwards. Jaune should have gone further than he did. No. She can't keep letting herself go like this. There was still time before day gave way to night. Pyrrha offered what help she could there in Beacon. Most of her fellow trainees did. Some looked at her funny; they must have known about her professional status. Carrying rubbles from one place to the pile set aside for it, Crocea Mors remained by her side. The cold steel was old with many scratches on it. The sword had been chipped and the colors had faded.
As she worked, she wondered about Crocea Mors' history. What kind of person was Jaune's ancestor? She didn't want to hope that she could somehow bring him back. Jaune didn't have a legend to his name. Even if she dedicated her life to telling people about him, Pyrrha doubts it would work. Perhaps, his ancestor would help her? After all, one of his descendants had been killed. Surely, that must have some kind of personal reason to be here?
Pushing those thoughts away for now, Pyrrha continued her aid here until night came. The other students returned home with Pyrrha staying behind. Some did stay late but they too eventually went home. Only Goodwitch and herself remained in Beacon. Pyrrha chose an empty classroom, away from most people. There weren't any security cameras either. They couldn't let another hacking incident interfere this one.
"I wish you luck, miss Nikos," Goodwitch said before leaving for the teachers' dormitories. "And may fate favor you."
"Thank you, professor Goodwitch," Pyrrha replied.
Finding a place to perform the summoning ritual was a difficult thing for Pyrrha. For one, she needed a place where the chalk would leave behind clear enough markings. There was no telling what would happen if the shapes drawn would be broken into dashes when they should have been lines. She was as gentle as she was firm. There hadn't been more focus from since the attack. Pyrrha had to focus. She had to.
Breathing to a point of meditation, Pyrrha kept her hand as straight and as steady as she could. Crocea Mors was at the head of the northern-most point of the shape. Her own weapons were elsewhere.
Only one way to find out. She made her choice. She'll gamble on it. It doesn't matter how strong or weak Jaune's ancestor would be. If there is anyone who would have any personal reason to heed her call, it would have to be her partner's ancestor.
Having finished her sketch, Pyrrha looked onto Crocea Mors. It's expanded shield revealing the emblem of the Arc family. Would it have been a good idea to do a little research first? She shook her head. Now is not the time. Pyrrha could do it at another time. She was the Master now, the Heroic Spirit that she will summon is the Servant. Not just for Jaune but for every life that had been lost, she'll get that Heroic Spirit.
Here we go. She got to her knees and began to channel her aura into it, as instructed by headmaster Ozpin. Activating her aura, Pyrrha began her part of this strange ritual. For a moment, she felt as though she had heard it somewhere before.
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality." There was only one thing that she could say as her prayer. She could still see that epitaph below her partner's name vividly. "Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, call upon thee."
The shapes then glowed their light. At first, it was the light of bronze that shone warmly against the dark cold of night. With no one around, Pyrrha didn't have to worry too much about having someone suddenly walk in.
Then, the light turned white. A pure brightness that reminded Pyrrha of those fairytales that her mother would read her when she was a child. That warmth was familiar somehow, like she had felt it before. Something about this seemed familiar. Had she heard about this before? Had someone told her about this Grail War before?
Growing in intensity, both brightness and heat, Pyrrha fell back as the ritual was nearing its own climax. Thankfully, nothing nearby had been destroyed by it though they probably felt hot to the touch. It didn't feel heated. Warm perhaps but not hot.
When the light had faded, it took a moment for Pyrrha to open her eyes again and regain her vision. That was a blinding experience. She was still seated with the palms of her hand on the floor. Her eyes widened when she could make out the figure of the Servant that she had summoned. If it had worked at all, Pyrrha had expected to see Jaune's ancestor.
Standing tall, taller than her definitely, was a knight in armor. However, it wasn't shining armor but that of rust. For one the color had faded with scratches and some dents clearly visible. His back was towards her and she could see the sheath strapped to it; the sword was absent there. Following down to his arm, Pyrrha's jaw opened wider at the sight of the broken sword.
Impossible. She recognized this figure. There were many drawings and artistic depictions of the Servant she had summoned. But it couldn't be, could it? How had it been possible? Was there something about Jaune's ancestor that she didn't know? Who else could it be? A template?
"Servant: Rider," he began. Slowly, he turned around to face her. "Rusted Kni—Pyrrha? Is that you?"
Pyrrha's jaw couldn't be any lower than it already was. She heard it correctly. Her Servant was none other than the Rusted Knight, a character from the Girl Who Fell Through the World. A popular character among children and the inspiration for many to become huntsmen and huntresses. Pyrrha herself wasn't an exception to that and right now, he stood in front of her as her Servant.
Was the Rusted Knight inspired by Jaune's ancestor somehow? It had to be. But wait, if that is the case, then how did he recognize her?
The Rusted Knight, Rider, laughed as though a joke had been said. She could imagine that beneath that helmet, there were tears falling already. What was so funny?
"I'm sorry." It took a while before she gathered her bearings. Even then, she wasn't certain if it was even real. What did Crocea Mors have to do with the Rusted Knight? "But how do you already know me?"
"Right." Rider nodded. "Of course. Stranger things have happened I suppose. But I guess some things are just meant to be, huh Pyr? Glad that memory is still there. A little fuzzy and mixed with what Lewis wrote but it's still there."
Pyr? Wait. I know that voice. That voice was familiar. It was a voice that she never thought she would ever hear again.
"Let me start again." Rider coughed. He recreated that formal tone that he had before. "Servant: Rider. True Name: the Rusted Knight."
He then removed the helmet. The same blonde hair, blue eyes and dorky smile that he had during their days in Beacon. If her jaws could stretch, they would have dug through the ground.
"I ask you," Jaune Arc continued. "Are you, my Master?"
AN: Surprising nobody, we have our Rider. From a conceptual standpoint, Rusted Knight was the first (and thusly spent the most time on) among all of Remnant's Heroic Spirits.
I had considered Jaune for the Saber class (with Ozma taking the Caster slot as the Wizard of Four Seasons) but I was at a crossroad. Do I go Pre-Volume 9 and treat it as a Rusted Knight Lily or do I go Post-Volume 9 and make some assumptions, likely turning Jaune into a Charlemagne and Karl der Große situation having both Jaune Arc and Rusted Knight. I'm currently leaning towards former mainly because I don't want to favor Jaune too much (SI Power Fantasty, you get the idea).
In regards to Extra Classes, I kinda want to fill out the standard seven first before touching that. As evidenced by Moriarty, I haven't come up with one for the Archer class (yet). My personal guideline is "one ability to function as a personal skill and one to function as a noble phantasm." Any more is dependent on the fic and them bouncing off of each other.
BTW, if you guys got any questions, feel free to ask me via PM here or in the comments on AO3. I'm a bit uncertain how replying directly to reviews here on FFN look like after looking through other fics (namely, none outside of these ANs). I'll try my best to answer in a non-spoiler manner.