One benefit, Yang supposed, of having one's life threatened is that it gave her a moment's respite from that irritating itch that she occasionally experienced. She couldn't scratch it because the itch was on a limb that was no longer present. But on instinct, Yang's remaining hand still reached for it whenever she felt it. She had been accustomed to having it there, to have it tingle when she would strain in training and now it was gone. The muscles there could no longer ache, they could no longer burn. Worst of all, the only feeling she could have from there was a distant memory. Will it ever reach a point that she couldn't even remember how that hand felt like?
Both Watts and Neo were still around, even as the former was talking with Jeanne, explaining to them all about the specific terms of his victory now that the game, Liar's Dice, was over. Archer was still there somewhere, still aiming at them. Even after the two had left, leaving behind sour faces on everyone in that household, she was sure that Archer was still aiming to shoot. Yang would admit some kind of sympathy for her birth mother, being made to do things that she didn't want to be involved with.
That danger still lingered. It was only after absolute certainty Yang managed to calm down. That had only happened because she felt that itch on her non-existent limb again. Her free hand just felt air as always.
Yang's eyes drifted to the prosthetic arm still resting there on the desk by her bed. It was silver in color and was gathering dust. It was finely-made; it had to be from Atlas, gifted to her by the general himself. Yang chuckled darkly. She still remembered how it had been the general who had to deliver her the news about her disqualification for her supposed attack on a downed opponent. Now, it was he who gave her this gift.
Her hand traced the smooth metal. Fingers picked up some dust that Yang had to clean it for no other reason than to clean it. It wouldn't do if those dust particles came to her nose and she sneezed. The early days of when she was practicing her semblance certainly brought back some embarrassing memories.
"Are you alright?" Jeanne asked. She was standing by the doorway. She had a large bag on her person.
"You're still here?"
"Well, I needed something to hold Harpe." Jeanne shrugged. "To think, all that time, I was close to the means that would have ended Salem's immortality. I suppose I will be making up for this mistake."
"Is it really a mistake, though?" Yang didn't know anything going on in Vacuo. CCT only allowed for local communications at the moment. Yang had a feeling that it had something to do with Watts, Archer, and Neo.
"I did do some things before heading here," she replied. "There was that incident with the Crown but those were relatively easy enough to deal with. Their leaders had some delusions of grandeur." Jeanne chuckled. "Probably says a lot coming from me, depending on who you ask."
Yang rolled her eyes. Servants. Had they always been around, then Remnant would have been rid of the Grimm a long time ago. But with Archer as an example, that would mean stronger enemies that no huntsmen could deal with. Despite the term of Heroic Spirit, not everyone had a heroic quality to them.
"You don't have to, you know," Jeanne said. Of course, she noticed Yang's fingers tracing the prosthetic.
"Isn't Vale lacking in huntsmen?" Yang asked. Her professional license was right next to the prosthetic. If the metal arm was a gift from the general, then the plastic card was a gift from her own headmaster. While there were those stronger than her that still kept fighting the good fight, there were those who weren't that still kept going. She is being left behind in both body and mind.
"And you are under no obligation to fill it," Jeanne replied. "We won't ask you to take a burden that you can't carry."
"Who says, I can't?" Yang tried to be angry. But it wasn't coming out, not even a whimper. Her eyebrows furrowed, certainly. But there was no fire behind those eyes of hers, only ashes. "I'm still strong." She was out of practice and hadn't been moving much ever since she lost her arm. It should be weeks by now, minimum. She was putting on a brave face. "I can still fight."
"Yes, I can see that." Jeanne nodded. "But should you?"
"Shouldn't I?"
Jeanne shrugged. "I don't know. Only you can answer that, after everything you've been through. I've seen stronger people break down for less."
"Didn't say you were some sort of saint? What kind of saint are you?"
"The kind that loves her artillery." One little tidbit about Jeanne d'Arc is that she knew where the cannons should be aiming at. Most attribute it to the divine guidance that she received while others say that it is because of her peasant background that allowed her to best command those who manned them since they were mostly comprised of the common folk.
Yang was, predictably, surprised. Not exactly a Holy Maiden from what she had heard. When one thinks of saints, they usually think of those monks and priests. Prayer and some charity works. In times of war and strife, probably healers and doctors. To hear of a saint heavily involved in warfare as though she herself was a soldier was new to Yang.
"Didn't expect that now, did you?" Jeanne knew what she was thinking.
"No." Yang shook her head. As far as she knows, Remnant's history didn't have that. There were those who fought for their faith but they never called themselves saints. "No, I didn't."
"But enough about me, Yang," Jeanne said. "What about you? You don't have to fight. You're welcome to, but you don't have to."
Yang looked over the prosthetic arm again. Then, her eyes trailed her license. She took a deep breath. There were those whom Yang would have easily beaten in a fight. It wasn't a brag or anything but a simple statement of fact that some would be better than others. One former bully of the faunus came to mind. Yet, those same people kept pushing on, kept fighting while she was there rotting away on her bed.
"I don't think I'm worthy." She shook her head.
"And you think I was?"
"This God of yours, didn't he choose you?" Yang couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"And did you think it was because I was worthy? Or that I was in anyway qualified?"
"What do you mean?"
"Yang," Jeanne's voice was as gentle as it could be. "I was a peasant girl who joined the military where most women of that time period would have found themselves in those war camps as prostitutes. I was also illiterate and had no military training of any kind to speak of at the time. The miraculous part was that there were nobles who bothered to listen to me at all.
"But," Jeanne prolonged her pronunciation. "That did not change the fact that I had been there and that I was called to act there. It also didn't change the fact that it had an impact on history. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be here."
"Divine providence? Sounds lucky."
"In some ways? Yes." Jeanne nodded. "But many people of my faith were precisely that: the unqualified. A stuttering mess led his people out of Egypt and into a promised land. A shepherd boy felled a giant and became king. The Lord himself came into the world as a son of a carpenter and he was the one who sought his disciples when it should have been the other way around. Those same disciples went from being fishermen to becoming fishers of men."
Jeanne took Yang's license and placed it on her remaining hand.
"The point is, Yang," she continued. "My faith is full of people who weren't worthy or qualified. By all accounts, there were many things that shouldn't have turned out the way they did. But the fact is that it did. We were chosen not because we're worthy; we were made worthy because we were chosen."
Yang paused to look at her license when Jeanne stopped talking.
Then, Jeanne resumed again. "You are no heiress to a monopoly. You are no revolutionary trying to change the world for the better. You are also not a Master in this Grail War. Everything that you have accomplished will always be your own, and I think that it's beautiful, Yang."
She then moved towards the prosthetic.
"You weren't chosen to be a huntress because you're qualified, Yang. Should you take it, you'll qualify because you were chosen to be a huntress."
Once more, Yang stared at the license in her hand. There was still more for her to go. She wasn't certain if she could ever do it. "Before you go," she asked. "Could you look into the shed just outside? I think there are some spray paints there. We use those for the bike and car. I'd go there instead but..."
The prosthetic certainly feels metal enough to compare to her bike, at least. The only problem was the neighbor.
"I could bring it here if you like?"
"No, just… just leave it in the living room. Dad doesn't like it when it could stain the bed sheets."
"Of course." Jeanne smiled proudly.
It didn't take long for Jeanne to return with all the spray paints. She didn't know what color Yang would have preferred but that was fine; Yang wasn't certain about it either. It had been the last time she'd see of Jeanne that day. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for Vacuo in order to get this gift left behind by the previous Grail War.
Yang had been sitting there, on the couch in the living room, for hours now. All the old newspapers and magazines were waiting to catch the stray paints that would come their way. Did she go for yellow like she always does? Should she put some black to accent it? Maybe white? How about red? Sighing, she doesn't know which one to pick.
"I know you're back there, Raven," Yang said. Her tone had no kindness there. It was as neutral as she could make it. That old bird was the reason Yang wasn't doing this in the shed.
Only Jeanne had lost that gamble. While Raven did still hear Watts out on her part in this, she was rather strict in that she would not be too involved against her will. With that being said, there was no other place for Raven to go but here, under Yang's roof. Beacon could host her but she certainly doesn't trust Ozpin enough either for that. Technically, Raven was here as a guest, a neighbor next door that had just moved in.
Yang looked outside the window. A more accurate term would be nested in. She could see old pin cushions that had to have been thrown out before. Old handkerchiefs that didn't fly in the wind. For a bird's nest, it must have been a luxury. Yang partly wished for strong winds and some rain just to see if it could last.
Flapping wings turned to footsteps as Raven approached Yang. "Had you been any stronger, then you have taken the prosthetic by now and trained harder."
"Like you came back here?" Yang replied. Between the two Maidens, Yang pretty much preferred Holy over Spring. At least Jeanne's attempt at aiding actually came across as aid. "Why is it that you came again? Oh, that's right: you ran."
"They were Servants, Yang."
"Had you been any stronger, you might have fought back." Yang returned Raven's point against her.
Taiyang's voice was heard from the kitchens. "If you two girls are going to fight, take it outside."
In the corner of the room, Zwei barked. It had taken him a while before he got accustomed to Raven's presence. Yang will miss those times when he would chase Raven's bird form.
"And leave Zwei out of it," Taiyang added.
"Whatever." Raven turned back into a bird and flew out the open window.
Yang continued to stare at the prosthetic arm. She hadn't even tried it on yet. Should she have tried it on first? See if it works just fine before committing to the design.
Zwei planting his head on Yang's foot took her out her own thoughts. His puppy eyes looked up from there and his wagging tail never failed to make Yang smile a little. It was a bit of struggle to pick up Zwei with only one hand. But she managed it without putting too much pressure on the corgi.
"You just want me to pick you up like I used to, don't you, Zwei?" Yang asked.
Zwei barked twice. On the couch, he planted his head on her lap, making that same gesture. Yang could use the distraction and patted Zwei on the head until his eyes grew heavy. He wasn't tired by any means but he was comfortable enough to just take a nap then and there. Luckily for anyone, Zwei doesn't usually salivate when napping on a person. Those are usually reserved for meal times or on his bed when he was having a particularly nice dream; one could tell by the wagging of his tail. Sometimes he would chase dream squirrels up a tree.
Yang was still uncertain about the prosthetic. It had been sitting there, waiting just as much as the newspaper were. The breeze coming from the still open window made the papers and magazines look like they were tapping their feet impatiently.
"Make the chosen worthy, huh," Yang said to herself. Zwei had been stirred and looked at her curiously. She nodded. "Yeah, I know what to do."
It was slow process. Having only one arm meant that she had to be twice as careful in handling the paint. Even if the number of newspapers and magazines were larger than what she normally would, there was still that chance that she could cause unnecessary stains. Her handling of the prosthetic was careful as well. Yang couldn't let her finger print on the arm. Actually, now that she gave it some thought, why not? If the arm was going to be a part of her, then it might as well have her mark in some way.
In the end, it was the usual brightly colored yellow that she usually goes for. The same color as the morning sun on a clear, cloudless day. It had yet to have its chance to burn bright but it will eventually. Letting it stay there until it fully dries, Yang then carefully had the arm placed. It was a strange feeling, having something attached to one's body. There was a slight jolt of discomfort as the prosthetic settled itself onto her arm.
Remnant's technology had allowed such prosthetics to move as though they were the actual body part themselves. Still, there was that strange foreign feeling that told Yang that this wasn't natural. She still felt that itch there and rubbing the metal wasn't doing it for her. It will take some getting used to since the metallic fingers were moving on command as though that they were her fingers.
Yang tested it a bit more. The sounds of the wrists moving was soft and almost inaudible; only when things were dead quiet would this be heard. Closing and opening her fist had the same pressure as she would have on her actual arm. There were also a few additional features that just had to take account her own weapon. Certain portions of the prosthetic arm were ready to shoot their shots in the same manner as Ember Celica. Performing the motions proved it to her and there was no worry about accidentally firing off since she made sure that it hadn't been loaded.
It is going to be a different feeling for her. Having to remove the prosthetic for maintenance once she had gotten used to it would be like having to remove her arm, she thinks. She wouldn't know; she'll find out soon enough. If she would ever accomplish that natural feeling with the prosthetic as she did with her actual one, it might be quite the experience of having to lose it for the time being.
Okay, Yang thought. I'll cross the bridge when I get there.
She can't crack her knuckles with this. Yet, another feeling that she would have to get used to. The arm was heavier than she had expected but that had more to do with her lack of exercise in the past weeks. She had been sluggish since losing her arm.
"So," Taiyang said, coming out the room. "How does it feel?"
"It's…" Yang will admit that it had to be tailor-made just for her. "I'll make this worthy of me." She stood up, careful so as to not disturb the sleeping Zwei. "If I could ask you for a favor, dad."
"Done." Taiyang smiled. He had never looked prouder than before now.
Yang's training back into fighting shape comprised primarily of conditioning. Muscle memory may have allowed her to remember the movements and her posture but the time spent in mostly on the bed or the couch meant that she didn't have the stamina that she used to. Shredding off that fat and rebuilding those muscles was her main goal. She had been initially worried at the sweat affecting the metal of her prosthetic, but such worries were unfounded. The prosthetic was just as much her weapon and her old gauntlets weren't affected by that much sweat as well.
Body building was a different task for her. While she could always rebuild her other arm, getting used to the prosthetic was a different story. There were muscles that were no longer working in that regard and Yang will not deny a slight feeling of tightness in that prosthetic, nothing that some adjustments couldn't fix.
The simplest of them all was the fighting techniques. All those years practicing droning away with basic drills came to her like instinct. She was rusty in her execution, that much was clear. However, that was where her father comes in.
"You're pulling back too much!" Taiyang criticized. He may be her father but he was also a teacher, a good but strict one. "Shuffle those feet. I want to see the pivot!"
If anything, Taiyang was much stricter now. Having seen her own weaknesses in the Vytal Tournament must have inspired him to remake the training Yang initially received when she had been younger. Back then, there was an emphasis on her punching power which usually meant that she had leaned in favor of slugging away the competition. Now, there was an even greater emphasis on her footwork. Mobility, controlling distance, and there were even more kicks and knees included here.
Grapples had become part of her training as well. As Yang sparred with her father, she would have to grab her father's arm when he would miss a punch and punish him severely. Elbows and back-hand strikes were thrown as well. Dirty boxing, it was called. It wasn't clean nor was it the sportsman-like. Not even when Yang would beat up clubs for information turned this violent.
The only thing missing were the use of the headbutt. There were there as a last resort but rarely ever used; it hurts just as much on the person using it.
Her father was the only one who could get away with pulling Yang's hair in a fight. It was a weakness to be exploited, her care and protectiveness of her hair. The one thing that never changed about Yang was her hair care routine.
She doesn't always get to train with her father. On most days, she would be doing roadwork and focusing primarily on her drills. Taiyang was also shadowing a bunch of huntsmen-in-training which meant that Yang's schedule wasn't always consistent. In time, she herself would have to do the same, being considered a professional herself.
Her current training wasn't any of that.
"What's the matter?" Raven mocked. "Afraid to commit?"
If Taiyang wasn't present to train Yang and didn't leave behind any drills for her to work on, Raven Branwen would end up being her sparring partner. Saying that their sparring partners is more of a technicality. Her father didn't teach Yang to use everything to her advantage without reason.
Raven's Maiden powers would occasionally leak out as fragile blades in the shape of her own weapon broke by Yang's prosthetics. It was expected that Raven would restrain herself having both the experience and powers greater than Yang's own. However, that only served to anger Yang more.
"You can't always rely on your semblance, Yang!" Raven called out. "It makes you weak!"
"Says the woman who keeps using her Maiden powers!" Yang countered. "Yeah, I see you trying to be sneaky!"
Yang swore that Raven was being deliberate here. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that Raven was just pressing all of Yang's buttons. The mocking gestures, disdainful tone, had Yang known her for any longer period, she would have at least learned if Raven was faking it. Alas, that is not the case here.
As such, Yang's semblance would leak out every single time. She would rush in, burn through her reserves in a wrathful attempt to bring down her own mother while Raven, through experience and cunning fitting for a bandit, would punish her for it.
If Jeanne's motivational dialogue had been too soft, Raven's tough love approach was on the opposite end. Where was her father? At least he was just right in his approach.
"Alright, that's enough," Taiyang called out to them from a distance. "Both of you, that's enough. You've been at it since I left."
"She needs to train her stamina as well, Tai," Raven said. "Can't always coddle her like this."
"And you were needed to unlock the Vault since last week," Taiyang countered. "Qrow and the others are practically in Mistral by now, just sauntering around Haven Academy."
Raven scoffed. "Leo would keep them entertained. He has to until he could get to me. Of course, he has to find the Tribe first."
Taiyang shook his head. It would take weeks at best for any message to get to Raven. Had she been in Mistral, it would have taken shorter but that is not the case. Raven was in Vale and so any Grimm would have to travel across the ocean to reach here. She just didn't want to deal with another Servant again, having lost to two. One physical and one mental.
Yang used this time to replenish herself. She will admit that Raven was strong. Raven was fast, agile, and possessed a flexibility of fighting techniques honed by experience. Yang's own was rather stiff and crude compared to her. That knowledge did not soothe her at all. Frustration kept bubbling for her.
"Anyway," Taiyang addressed Yang. "How's the arm, Yang?"
"Honestly?" Yang admitted. "It feels natural. Sometimes, I forget that it's a prosthetic."
"Of course," Raven added. "Commissioned by the general of Atlas. Jimmy may be more tin than man but he still has a bleeding heart. Bit of a hothead. Probably the only warmth he gets up there in the cold."
"Dad," Yang asked. "Why is she still here?"
"Somebody has to keep watch," Taiyang answered.
"And that has to be us? Why?"
"It isn't really us." Taiyang smirked knowingly. "Raven just has nowhere to go."
"I'm right here, you know," Raven interjected.
"Exactly." Taiyang nodded. "You're right here instead of literally being anywhere else. Like say, with Qrow."
Taiyang and Raven began their little verbal spat. Yang rolled her eyes. It wasn't going to turn violent; Raven's hands were loose while Taiyang had a fully relaxed posture. Even Zwei seemed unconcerned in the slightest and Yang trusts Zwei's insticts. Zwei is a good boy and if thinks will be good, then things will be good.
Taking another bottle of water, Yang took in the cooling breeze that the wind had on her sweat. She had to wipe herself with her towel. Another pleasant thing about the prosthetic was that it wasn't affected by water or by her sweat. She had fitted the metal enough that there would only be minor adjustments necessary in regards to how it attaches itself to her flesh.
The one pleasant thing about it was that it started to feel like an actual arm. Whenever Yang started to itch there, the prosthetic gave off the illusion that she really was scratching that arm. Its responsiveness was actually kind of terrifying that Yang only understood now that she had to use one. It gave her a unique perspective of it all. Still, old habits would retain and those moments when the arm was detached and reattached was something that she wasn't quite used to yet.
Afternoon sun's beamed down on her in Patch. The open area that she trains on doesn't have the shading of the trees. Those are much closer to the sides, meant primarily for the passersby and as a means of placing all their things. Ruby would have been there cheering Yang on and vice versa if it was her turn to train.
"Ruby," Yang whispered. Her little sister was off trying to save the world, fighting some supernatural warfare that she had been chosen for. Pyrrha was there too, and so was the headmaster here in Vale. Ruby should be fine; she has people looking out for her.
Yet, Yang could not shake off the worry that Ruby was still in danger. Yang had seen that not every Servant was a direct combatant. She had been caught off-guard when Neo, Watts, and Archer had appeared at her doorstep. Yang, out of training and relatively out of shape, had no chance of overcoming the combined might of the trio. Any one of them had been enough to take her down, excluding Watts. Then, when Jeanne and Saber had arrived, they too were helpless because Archer had kept them in place, shooting from afar. Ruby wouldn't be able to see from that range.
The metal fist rattled. It even matches the strength and pressure that she was exerting, apparently. It really was made to mimic the intimate details of muscle movement. No scratches on the metal were found which were nice.
Do I need to put oil on this thing? Yang wondered. The arm didn't exactly come with an instruction manual and there weren't that many huntsmen in Vale that she knew off who used prosthetics. There was one but Yang wasn't about to look for that bastard just to see how his maintenance routine is like. She still can't believe that Mercury had prosthetic legs all that time.
"And that's why you should control your semblance, Yang," Raven said. Had Yang been thinking out loud?
"It pains me to have to agree but yes, Yang," Taiyang added. "Your—Raven is right."
"What's the matter? Can't even call me your dear anymore?"
"You lost those privileges the moment you left Yang."
"It was to make her stronger?" Raven sounded so unsure.
"How exactly?"
"If she could survive without her mother, then she is strong."
"Oh she survived without her mother, alright." Taiyang nodded. "She just had to be one when Summer never came back."
Suddenly, Raven slumped. Taiyang had a bitter taste in his mouth. They all did, except Zwei. Zwei was stronger than all of them for still keeping up his spirits. Zwei is the strongest of them all.
"By the way, dad," Yang added. "Is there anything else you would have me do?"
"Your solo training will continue," Taiyang answered, moving past that bit with Summer. "But you will also start training with a team again."
"Really?" Yang tilted her head.
Taiyang nodded. "It will take time but they themselves will become professional huntsmen under my tutelage. You'll have to work with them in the meantime."
Yang gave no objections. None of her team was here, so she might as well try to get used to a different one in the meantime. Might be a bit awkward, being the fifth member of a four-man team. "Do I know them?"
"I hope so," Taiyang replied. "They're from your class. I think it's good timing, too. They lost their member as well."
"Oh really?" Yang shouldn't be surprised that not every team managed to make it fully intact. She only needed to look at RWBY's sister team for an example. "Looks like they'll be getting quite the addition, then!" Yang started to gain back her confidence.
"Looking forward to seeing them? I'll have to push them to take their licenses."
"Yeah! I'm in!"
Yang would only be with this new team temporarily until she could catch up with Ruby. But, that doesn't mean that she could get along with whoever her new teammates were going to be.
/-/
Yang had never felt like taking back everything that she had said before now. In the distance, an absentee, mother bird was sounding in the background; it was remarkably akin to laughter. Yang made a mental note to go bird hunting after her first mission.
"Alright, team CRBY!" said Taiyang. "We got ourselves a mission!"
There was only one thing on Yang's mind that she could ask: "when did you guys get your license?"
"Recently," Cardin Winchester answered. "Your father pushed us to take it."
Yang gave her father a deadpan stare. She put herself back into fighting shape recently as well. In response, Taiyang must have thought that this was the perfect time to practice his whistling skills.
Cardin spoke up instead since her father clearly wasn't going to. "I'd say welcome to the team. But this is a new team being formed so… nice to meet you team mate?"
"Temporary." Yang emphasized. She was only going to do this until she gets to take on her own missions and until she gets to see team Ruby again.
"Like you need to ask?" Cardin extended a hand.
Yang's first official action as a professional huntress was shaking Cardin's arm with her own prosthetic.
AN: CRBY (Cranberry) was taken from "Ideal Heroes." A temporary team whose lineup is pretty much unchanged here. Now that I look at it again, I realized that the reason CRBY was bothering me was that it was one letter short for CRWBY. No wonder it felt off looking at it.