Chapter Text
[Vale]
Yang checks a powerful kick from Blake with her shin, ducking her follow-up haymaker and countering with a cross that barely lands.
Blake grins. “Tired already?”
Yang shakes her head. “Nope, just getting warmed up.”
“Mind if I join you?” Pyrrha’s calm voice carries easily across the clearing as she smoothly vaults over the makeshift fence that surrounds the sparring ring. Her green eyes have a familiar kind of cold focus to them; it’s a look Yang knows well from her childhood.
Yang swallows. If the look on Pyrrha’s face is any indication, she’s got an axe to grind over something; though Yang isn’t sure what that something might be.
“I’m here to finish your training, Yang. Your gift is useful, but there may be times that you are captured and must endure until you can escape or be rescued. If you truly mean to join the Inner Circle, then I must be sure of your fortitude. You must keep fighting, no matter what.”
Yang only nods, taking a few steps back from Blake to square up with Pyrrha. She swallows hard, steeling herself before glancing at Blake.
“This might be...difficult to watch. I understand if you want to take off, and we can meet up later.” Yang warns.
Blake gives a short, sharp shake of her head in response. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” And then, after a short pause, she adds: “I’ll have to go through the same training eventually too, right? Better to know what to expect at least.”
Yang nods. “Okay.”
Thanks Blake. This is gonna be...rough.
Pyrrha inclines her head when Yang meets her gaze, nodding once before performing the short bow that has become custom for when they start their sparring sessions.
Yang returns the bow.
The blonde Huntress-in-training returns to her ready position, only to be knocked flat by a bronze blur.
The impact is a burst of lightning that tastes like copper and dirt. The blow is powerful enough to deplete her Aura immediately and it’s only when she hears the low hum of Phyrrha’s shield returning to her—barely audible over the ringing in her ears—that she realizes what’s happened.
She doesn’t even have time to recover before Pyrrha’s on her again, delivering a tremendously powerful kick to Yang’s face.
“Get. Up.” Pyrrha snaps, in a tone of voice that Yang has never heard from her before.
Yang blocks the next kick purely on reflex, rolling to a knee to fire off a salvo from her gauntlets to create some distance between herself and Pyrrha. The sharp, barking report of her weapons does nothing to help the ringing in her ears.
Groaning and still concussed, Yang turns to spit out a pulpy mess of blood and shattered teeth.
Sloppy. Get it together Yang! She chides herself, dodging out of the way of Pyrrha’s spear, narrowly avoiding being impaled by the weapon. Pyrrha is relentless, and it’s only now as she ducks and weaves, blocking and parrying, unable to even land a counterblow, that Yang realizes that she’s never truly fought Pyrrha.
Their sparring matches had gotten pretty heated sometimes, but never like this.
Pyrrha, at least in days gone by, had been perfectly content to let Yang vent, to wear herself out before Pyrrah would capitalize on her exhaustion.
But this…
This is cruelty.
Yang is getting pummeled. Her only real defense against an attack of this magnitude is to give ground, and Pyrrha makes her pay for every inch she surrenders in blood. Her ribs are shattered, her nose broken, and if her blurry, unfocused vision is anything to go by, at least one of her eye sockets is fractured as well.
Yang skips over a leg sweep, and stumbles barely grazing Pyrrha with a clumsy, exhausted counter-kick before taking an elbow to the face for her trouble. She hears, rather than feels, her jaw being shattered under the force of the blow.
Yang lets the agony wash over her, and lashes out with a feral, powerful hook, a Semblance-fueled, brutally delivered attack. The blonde falls on Pyrrha in a flurry of erratic blows, violent and unpredictable as she goes on the offensive. Yang manages to draw some blood of her own, and she’s certain she’s shattered a few of her mentor’s ribs, but Pyrrha seems completely unfazed by her injuries.
The red-haired ancient warrior seems content to simply weather Yang’s onslaught from behind her shield, occasionally countering with her sword or spear and creating new injuries each time.
All it takes is for Yang to overextend as Pyrrha slips a jab, and then there’s a bright, searing flash of bronze between them.
Yang’s left arm lands between them; Yang lets out a pained cry, that quickly becomes an agonized scream, as Pyrrha drives the point of her sword into Yang’s abdomen.
Yang collapses to her knees—the feeling of going into shock is familiar to her. She waits for the finishing blow, but it never comes.
Instead, Pyrrha is staring at her with something resembling disappointment. She frowns.
“I did not tell you to stop fighting!” Pyrrha snarls, and hurls her shield at Yang’s face, knocking the already-stricken pupil into the dirt with a dull crunch.
Yang lays on the ground, suffering and concussed, unable to summon the will to fight. She’s lost a lot of blood, and her vision is a blurry haze—she’s in no condition to do much of anything.
“Pathetic. This is not a fairy tale, Yang. You say you want to help Ozpin, but how can you possibly hope to save anyone else, when you can’t even save yourself?”
Yang feels a familiar heat building in her chest, the familiar burn of a bruised ego and wounded pride on top of her physical injuries. She forces herself to stand, pulling Pyrrha’s sword out of her abdomen—an agony all on its own—and uses it as a crutch to help herself to her feet. Yang can feel her severed arm slowly beginning to grow back—healing is always slower without Aura to fuel it—and grits her teeth against the uncomfortable sensation.
“That’s enough.” Blake’s voice is very measured, and that alone tells Yang that her partner is angry.
Blake moves smoothly to stand between Yang and Pyrrha—something that at once fills Yang with a surge of respect and admiration for Blake, but also with dread. Even though she knows that Blake shares her gift, she’d still prefer not to watch Blake suffer needlessly; which is a likely outcome should she choose to intervene.
“Step aside.” Pyrrha’s voice is cold. “Your interference will only hinder Yang’s progress.”
“I will not.” Blake’s response is equally firm, and Yang can see the subtle flattening of Blake’s ears—she’s seen Blake’s bow twitch in enough distinctively different ways to tell what they’re doing. “There’s a difference between instruction and using someone as a punching bag.”
“I did not ask for your input.” Pyrrha snaps.
“Doesn’t matter. You know as well as I do that Yang is tough and capable under stress. There’s no need to torture her to prove that.”
“Brave words for someone who’s only ever pretended at being a soldier. I lived it. For centuries. Do not presume to tell me what is or is not necessary.” Venom drips from Pyrrha’s every word, the weight of her years evident in her voice. “For the last time: Move. Aside.”
Blake’s back straightens, and she looks Pyrrha directly in the eye. “No.”
“So be it.” Pyrrha’s Semblance calls her sword back, and the sudden jerk almost causes Yang to lose her balance.
Blake seems ready for the surprise attack, her bow twitching briefly as she whirls to knock the blade aside.
Blake’s response is immediate and ferocious. She is relentless, treacherous, and brutal in her attacks, forcing Pyrrha onto the defensive—momentarily without her sword, she’s forced to either use her shield or rely on her armor to turn aside Blake’s blows.
It quickly becomes apparent that Pyrrha is still in control of the fight, when she summons her sword—it plunges straight into Blake’s back with a horrendous, grisly noise; Blake, is so focused on winning that she fails to keep account of the other factors at play.
Yang leaps to Blake’s aid, finally recovered enough to be able to fight again. She tries not to think about the awful, pained noises coming from Blake as her partner chokes on her own blood. Despite her injuries, Blake still isn’t out of the fight, managing to block Pyrrha’s coup de grace. Yang falls into step beside her, helping to set up for counters as Blake begins using the ribbon of Gambol Shroud to entrap Pyrrha, like she’d done with Yang in one of their sparring sessions—that seems like a lifetime ago now.
Yang slams into Pyrrha with enough force that she can feel the impact in her teeth. She presses the advantage her hair ablaze with the power of her Semblance as she lays into Pyrrha with an explosive haymaker. She’s in her element now, relying on her Aura to take the hits she’s too slow to block or evade, using all the punishment she’s taking to fuel her own assault. Yang is holding her own, but only just. Despite the beating she’s taking, Pyrrha doesn’t seem to be slowing down at all. She even manages to knock Blake back as she keeps Yang at bay.
Dimly, Yang is aware of Blake regaining her feet behind her, entering the fight once more.
“Yang!” Blake cries as she pitches Gambol Shroud to her partner.
Yang catches the weapon almost out of reflex at this point, feeling the familiar tug of Blake winding up for their signature move. Yang uses her gauntlets to disengage from Pyrrha as well as to boost the speed of her rotation. Even though she’s done this at least a dozen times by now, it hasn’t gotten any less exhilarating with time. Yang grins as she completes her rotation, hurtling into Pyrrha feet-first in a powerful drop-kick and giving Gambol Shroud’s ribbon a tug to bring Blake into the fight.
Blake is on the offensive as soon as she lands, falling on Pyrrha in an almost animalistic frenzy. It’s immediately apparent that even in her more intense sparring sessions with Yang, she’d still been holding back. Seeing her now, in her element, slowly straying over the line between calculated violence and outright savagery—it is at once glorious and profoundly disturbing.
Blake lunges, aiming not to kill, but to wound, taking Pyrrha’s left eye and half of her ability to perceive her opponents.
Pyrrha cries out, lashing out with her shield, but she strikes one of Blake’s clones instead—the clang from the impact rings out sharply. as the Faunus girl circles, perpetually staying in Pyrrha’s blind spot. Blake’s blade flashes again, carving flesh and severing tendons.
Pyrrha’s shield falls from limp fingers.
Blake ducks a furious swing, one obviously meant to take her head, and immediately counters by casually lopping off Pyrrha’s sword arm.
Yang shudders, watching the expertly-targeted and brutal attacks and wondering exactly how many times Blake has done this to someone...
Not the time for this! Yang scolds herself, forcing herself to stop gawking at her teammate and actually do something.
“Yang!” Blake calls out, her voice low and focused. She tightens the ribbon, pulling Pyrrha’s arms to her sides as Yang delivers a devastating straight punch with all of her might.
Pyrrha’s Aura flickers out under the force, and Blake immediately moves to capitalize, looping the ribbon around Pyrrha’s neck as she stumbles. She digs it in like a garrote and pulls it tight. She drives Pyrrha to her knees with a well-placed kick, tightening the ribbon further until Pyrrha, at last, goes limp.
The bronze-clad warrior’s weapon clatters to the dirt and she slumps forward as Blake releases the ribbon and sheathes her own weapon.
Yang lets out a long, exhausted sigh. “That was...intense.”
Blake doesn’t say anything. There’s a faint trembling of her hands, her pupils too dilated, and then, with a slow and measured breath she’s back to normal. It happens so quickly that Yang isn’t sure that the little things she’s just seen were there at all.
It’s only then that she realizes that the ferocity she’d just witnessed is what happens when Blake cuts loose.
Oh…
“Yeah.” Blake says, her voice flat.
“Thanks for your help. You didn’t need to do that.” Yang says honestly, rubbing the back of her neck absently.
“I did. She was out of line. And you would have just taken the beating.” Blake’s tone is almost accusatory.
Yang bristles at the thinly-veiled insult to Pyrrha’s character—even though deep down, she knows Blake has a valid point. “It’s just training—”
“You can call it whatever you want. I know abuse when I see it. Just because it’s supposed to be good for you doesn’t mean that Pyrrha wasn’t taking things too far.” Blake interrupts, her tone sharp and biting.
“Hey!” Yang replies, equally offended and disturbed by Blake’s implication.
Pyrrha groans and stands up, dusting herself off. “Well fought, you two. That’s exactly the kind of teamwork we need if we’re going to beat Salem.”
Yang nods. “I think, if we work together, we stand a real chance.”
“Yeah.” Blake says, her tone caustic. “I’ll see you later, Yang. Pyrrha.”
And with that, Blake spins on her heel and heads back toward Beacon, leaving Yang and Pyrrha alone in the sparring ring.
***TCE***
[Vale]
“Oh, hi Penny.” Blake’s voice is cheerful, but Weiss can read her well enough by now to know it’s forced.
“Hello! It is wonderful to see you, Blake!” Penny says cheerfully from her seat on the couch, where she, Ruby and Weiss are relaxing.
“Are you okay?” Weiss mouths, knowing that both Ruby and Penny will want to be helpful because they’re like that, and although it’s...endearing, she knows that Blake will probably want to have some space before talking about whatever is bothering her.
Judging by her tense body language, it’s been a rough day.
Blake nods almost imperceptibly, and then gives a little shrug. I’m fine. We can talk later.
Weiss nods. “Hey, Blake,” She says, by way of greeting. She isn’t sure when she’d started adopting Ruby’s less-formal speech patterns, or when she began dressing in such a casual manner for loungewear—a few months ago she would never have dreamed of wearing sweatpants for anything other than the gym.
“Hi, Blake! We were just about to start another episode of ‘Last One Standing’ want to join?” Ruby says.
Blake responds with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “No thanks, Ruby. I was about to have a quick shower and then go and do some studying at the library. You guys have fun though; maybe I’ll join in next time.”
Ruby nods, placated, and turns back to the TV, curling a bit closer to Penny.
Weiss gives Blake a brief nod, and then turns her attention back to her friends.
“Blake seems rather...tense.” Penny observes as the shower begins to run in the background.
“Understatement of the year…” Weiss quips.
“I’m sure she has her reasons. She’s not with Yang, and her clothes were pretty shredded, maybe they had like...a fight?” Ruby suggests, frowning.
“I don’t think they’d fight like that…” Weiss answers, thinking. She’s witnessed both Blake and Yang’s capability for extreme violence firsthand, and they both have temperament issues in their own ways. Still, she doesn’t think either of them would solve interpersonal issues with each other through violence… “I don’t know…” The heiress admits finally.
“Perhaps they are simply having a...disagreement?” Penny suggests, tilting her head in a way that’s reminiscent of an inquisitive puppy.
“Maybe.” Ruby allows, still frowning. “They really don’t fight often though. They have this weird like...connection. Sometimes I swear they’re having whole conversations without actually like, talking.”
“I think they’re just really in-sync with each other. And I also think that we should let them be. They can handle themselves, and if either Blake or Yang needs help or wants to talk, they know where to find us.” Weiss explains.
Ruby nods, surprising Weiss with her agreement. “Yeah. You’re probably right…”
***TCE***
{Vale}
“I know you’re there, Yang.” Blake says, evenly, her cat ears twitching in irritation. Even without the outward signal of her displeasure, Blake knows that Yang can read her well enough to sense her tension.
Yang shrugs nonchalantly and steps around the end of the bookshelf. “You got me.”
“Why are you here?” Blake wonders, placing her book back onto the shelf with more force and abruptness than strictly necessary.
“I was looking for you. You seemed pretty, uh, upset earlier and I wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk.” Blake says coolly.
“What’s your problem? If you don’t wanna talk, just say so and I’ll let you be.” Yang offers, her face twisting into a scowl.
“Being there this morning, watching you spar with Pyrrha...let’s just say that it brought up a lot of bad memories. I know what it’s like to…” Blake takes a breath, choosing her words carefully. “I know what it’s like to respect someone like that. To look at them and think ‘Damn. I wish I could fight like that, be like that.’ I get it. Doesn’t mean you have to let her treat you like a punching bag. Maybe she did train you, and she’s been alive for a long time, but still...I know you don’t want to hear this, but if Pyrrha was as good as you think she is, she’d be out there fighting Salem now, not masquerading as a student to keep an eye on you.”
Yang frowns. “Yeah...I guess. I can’t say that I a hundred-percent agree with you, but I didn’t realize it’d be so upsetting for you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You had no way of knowing.” Blake says easily, feeling some of her tension ebbing away. “I’m not trying to be a bitch about things, Yang. I know that you and Pyrrha are close. And, she’s very skilled and capable. I just...I don’t think you should have to go through...a rite of passage like that to earn her respect. You’d never put Ruby through something like that as a test, would you?” Blake asks, hoping her voice isn’t accusatory.
“Well, no, of course not. Ruby’s good, but she’s got some growing to do before she’s ready to lead on an unsupervised job. I’m sure she’ll make a wonderful leader once she’s a bit more experienced, and I’m sure that goes for all of us anyway as far as being a team is concerned. I just want her to be happy, and as safe as possible in this line of work.” Yang explains, smiling softly.
Blake nods. “Exactly. You’re a good big sister Yang. Ruby’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her.”
“Thanks.” Yang replies, her cheeks coloring faintly. “So...Ruby said you came here to study, but you never actually study in the library. And, I know for a fact that you don’t actually have any homework to do...Wanna go for a walk and grab coffee or something? I mean, I get it if you want to be left alone or whatever, that’s alright, I’ll-”
“Yang.” Blake interrupts gently, smiling. “I’d love to get coffee with you.”
Yang blinks, her expression adorably confused for a moment. “Wait, really?”
Blake nods again. “Of course.”
Yang’s smile is the brightest thing in the library, her face radiating pure joy before she reigns in her excitement. “Okay, great! Did you, uh, wanna go anywhere specific?”
Blake shrugs. “I’m not picky. As long as I’m with you, I’m sure I’ll enjoy wherever we end up.” she says, and winks at Yang.
Yang immediately turns red, her cheeks coloring. “O-oh…”
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Blake teases.
“You did not just…”
“I mean, I haven’t gotten your tongue yet, but we can fix that if you want…” Blake says in a low, sultry voice, leaning so close that her lips are almost brushing Yang’s.
Yang makes a strangled noise and looks at once incredible aroused and profoundly stressed.
Blake grins and backs off to a more respectful distance for conversation. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” She points out.
Yang just blinks, obviously struggling for words.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” Blake chuckles, reaching for Yang’s hand as easily as breathing. “Let’s go get that coffee.”