• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Cause We Know We Can Win (New)

'Cause We Know We Can Win

Leaf and Veil let out simultaneous groans as their heads slumped forward.

“Okay, that? That was disappointing,” Veil said, gesturing at the television. “I thought she had it there at the beginning.”

“Me too,” Leaf muttered. “That semblance is just … it’s ridiculous.” She leaned back heavily onto the sofa. “It’s … most semblances can only do one thing, but she can do all of that with hers?”

“Apparently, there’s even more to it,” Veil remarked.

Leaf’s eyes widened. “There’s even more?”

“According to what I’ve read, there’s this thing called Summoning where a Schnee can conjure up … a ghost, sort of, or a spectral image—”

“Isn’t that the same thing as a ghost?”

“I think the idea is that ghosts can think for themselves, but spectral images can’t,” Veil explained. “Anyway, the point is, they kill a grimm, and then they can bring it back to fight for them, only it’s not a real grimm, it’s … it’s weird; it would be much easier to understand if I could see it, but apparently, her older sister used them all the time when she was competing in the Vytal Tournament—”

“How did she do?”

“She lost to another Atlas student in the finals,” Veil said quickly. “Anyway, the point is that Weiss Schnee hasn’t done any of that yet. Some people say she can’t; others say that she’s saving it until someone really breaks her out in a sweat.”

“I thought Neon brought her out in a sweat for a second there,” Leaf replied. “But if what you’re saying is true—”

“I think it is.”

“Then that’s just even worse!” Leaf cried. “How does one girl get so much?” She paused. “I mean, she’s already got everything else, but like … that’s the point! She’s got all the money, all the status, she’s got everything in terms of stuff that she could wish for, why should she get all the powers as well; shouldn’t they go to someone who actually deserves them?”

“I mean…” Veil shrugged. “Is it really that different from your friend Sunset’s powers?”

“Sunset doesn’t have as many different powers as that,” Leaf responded. “And besides, it’s different with Sunset.”

“Because you like Sunset,” Veil said.

“Yes, but also no,” Leaf said. “It’s different for Sunset for the same reason I like Sunset, because Sunset’s likeable — no matter what anonymous arseholes say about her.”

“Well, fair or not, she’s got all the gifts in every sense,” Veil said. “And, you know, I’ve gotta say … yeah, I wanted Neon to win—”

“Please let there not be a but.”

“But she was kind of impressive, don’t you think?”

“Her semblance was impressive,” Leaf muttered.

“Because of the way she used it, the way she thought about it,” Veil said. “Come on, that wasn’t a bad fight. And listen, the crowd thinks so too.”

“Some of the crowd.”

“Can you really say that she didn’t do well?” Veil asked.

“Yes, I can,” said Leaf. “She got lucky, that’s all. She got lucky, and she got … she got lucky the day that she was born a Schnee, and everything else has come out of that. There’s nothing else to it.”

Veil sighed. “I … I think you’re wrong about that,” she said. “And I think that other people, people who don’t have your … personal reasons, I think that they might think the same way.”


“Yes!” Blake hissed, pumping one fist. “Good for you, Weiss.”

“What would your new comrades say, to hear your cheering for the enemy?” asked Mom in a playful tone.

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’ to get upset about, ma’am,” Applejack said breezily. “After all, that there Miss Schnee is from Atlas too.”

Mom twisted in her seat a little to look at Applejack, and although her head was turned away from Blake, nevertheless, Blake found that she could imagine her mother’s raised eyebrows and feline smile, that combination of the curious and the playful, perfectly.

Even from the back, she could see that Mom was cocking her head a little bit to one side.

A little colour rose to Applejack’s cheeks. “Ah mean, uh, not that we, uh, not that … we don’t—”

“Yes, yes, we do, darling; that’s why you’re having such a hard time denying it,” Rarity said. She cleared her throat. “Lady Belladonna, there are two ways into our northern hearts: one is to be born an Atlesian, the other is to … behave as an Atlesian does, if that isn’t too nebulous term — nevertheless, I struggle to think of a different one that doesn’t sound unbearably pretentious — but in any case, the other way is to do … that, as Blake has. But I’m afraid that we can’t pretend that neither matters and that we hold all mankind as our brothers and sisters.”

“Indeed,” Mom said evenly. “Thank you for your honesty, Rarity.”

Rarity frowned a little. “You’re … welcome, ma’am.”

“Are you?” asked Cadance.

Mom snorted. “Come now, Cadance, you can’t expect this to be news to me. I can respect an honest response more than a hollow deception. And as long as Blake falls on the right side of the dividing line—”

“She does,” Twilight said.

“Then really, what grounds do I have for complaint?” asked Mom. “Besides, I know that Mistralians would say much the same, possibly without the allowance for people who behave in a Mistralian manner, and so would the Vacuans, probably, although I haven’t spent much time in Vacuo. It’s only here in Vale that I suspect that you’ll find less of that attitude.”

“Even here…” Twilight murmured.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to steer the conversation onto such rocky waters at a time like this,” Mom said. “I only meant to tease Blake a little!”

Blake fought the desire to apply the palm of her hand to her face. “Of course you did, Mom.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you for so long; you’ve left me with a lot of catching up to do,” Mom explained. “Not to mention the fact that we’ll be parted again soon, so I need to build up credit in the bank of embarrassing parenting as well.”

Pinkie giggled. “You’re a really great mom, Mrs. Lady Belladonna, ma’am.”

Mom froze, her mouth hanging open. “I…” She laughed, with a little stiffness in the laughter. “That’s very kind of you to say, dear, but I really don’t deserve—”

“Sure you do!” Pinkie cried. “You had a daughter who was different from you, but you supported her and gave her space to become her own person, and you kept on loving her all the while! Everyone should have a mom like you!”

There was a moment of silence in the box.

“…thank you, Pinkie Pie,” Mom said, looking away from Pinkie; her voice trembled a little, and she dabbed at one eye with her pinky finger. “That’s … very lovely to hear.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, that was … that was quite a match, wasn’t it?”

“It sure was,” Applejack said. “Looks like you were right after all, Blake.”

“I was right, but so were you, almost,” Blake replied. “When Neon closed the distance with Weiss … it looked like it might be over for her right then and there.”

“Mmm, girl could do with learnin’ a little bit of hand-to-hand combat, maybe,” Applejack remarked. “She didn’t seem to know what she was doin’ down there.”

“She knew enough to grapple,” Twilight pointed out.

“Grapplin’ ain’t knowin’ what to do; grapplin’s what you do when you’re all outta ideas,” Applejack insisted. “She couldn’t block, couldn’t throw a punch, couldn’t nothin’.”

“Not too surprising,” Rarity replied. “She is a Schnee, after all: the epitome of class, taste, and refinement. Why would she want to learn to brawl like some…?”

Applejack folded her arms.

“Someone of less exalted pedigree,” Rarity said delicately.

“And would her father allow it if she did?” added Blake.

“Rarity isn’t wrong,” Shining Armor remarked. “Her sister was never that much good with her hands either. At least, not without a weapon in them.”

Cadance smiled. “Yes, that’s how you won in the end, wasn’t it? You disarmed her?”

Shining Armor nodded. “She could still summon, but it cut the number of glyphs she could use down to two, and it meant that she couldn’t use her sword.”

“Maybe she should have told her sister to work on that a little,” Applejack said. “Maybe she should have worked on it herself, maybe she has, but … even more for Miss Schnee if she wants to become just a regular huntress, she oughtta try and be prepared for anythin’.”


Flash was the first one that she saw, the one standing closest to the mouth of the tunnel. There were others there too, of course: Cardin, Russel, Rainbow Dash, Pyrrha, not to mention the other three members of Team FNKI.

But Flash was the one standing closest to the tunnel mouth of the tunnel, and it was Flash who she saw first.

As Weiss and Neon made their way towards the tunnel, and the corridor that would lead them out of the arena — the central hexagon had risen back up to its usual height, and the rest of the usual floor had re-emerged, giving them a way back — Flash stepped out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena itself, arms outstretched — right up until the moment he wrapped his arms around Weiss.

He didn’t pick her up the way that Neon had, but the difference in their heights was such that he was able to lift her off her feet without even seeming to really try, as he held Weiss close, the leather of his jacket — he was casually dressed today — crumpling beneath her.

It felt a lot nicer than when Neon had done it. Weiss found herself kicking her legs up as Flash spun her around.

“You did it!” Flash cried. “You won, you’re through to the semi-finals!” He put her down. “I mean, not that I had any doubts or anything.”

Weiss smiled. “If you had no doubts at all, you have more faith in me than I do.”

“You didn’t do as well as I thought you would,” Cardin said. “What was that first part of the match?”

“I was taken by surprise,” Weiss said.

“And you didn’t know what to do next,” Cardin said. “You were almost beaten, right there.”

“Come on, Cardin, lay off,” Russel said. “She just won the match; there’s no need to nitpick about stuff that she didn’t get perfectly right.”

“When am I going to get the chance to nitpick her performance otherwise?” asked Cardin.

Russel rolled his eyes. “You did well,” he said. “You won the fight, and you might even have won a few fans too.”

Weiss looked around the crowd, the crowd where cheers and boos were intermingled, true, but all the same … it was an encouraging sound, at least to her. No doubt, Pyrrha would have been greatly dismayed to hear such noises coming at the end of one of her matches, but for Weiss … for Weiss, this was a great improvement.

“You’re right,” Rainbow agreed. “Congratulations, Weiss, you’re turning the mood around.”

“May it continue onward,” Pyrrha said, a soft smile upon her face.

Weiss snorted. “You shouldn’t say that now, Pyrrha; what if fate brings us together in the next round?”

“Then may the crowd admire the way that you lost gracefully,” Pyrrha said, without missing a beat.

Weiss smirked. “You know, I think that you’ll regret your retirement,” she said. “You’ll realise you actually enjoy this and wish you’d left yourself a way back.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Please don’t take it the wrong way when I say that I hope not.”

“Ah-hem!” Neon cleared her throat loudly, sounding like she was trying to cough some mucus out of her throat. “Excuse me, I’m standing right here!” She glared at her teammates. “And I notice none of you guys coming to pick me up?”

Neon’s team leader — Flynt Coal, Weiss believed his name was — shrugged. “Do you want to get picked up?”

“Well, not anymore, I don’t!” Neon snapped. “I don’t want a pity pick up that I asked for; how desperate do you think I am?”

Flynt grinned. “Besides, it looked to me out there like you’re more the picking up kind.”

Neon folded her arms. “Oh, do you want me to pick you up?”

“Maybe later,” Flynt said. “But you did good out there; ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah … sorry, Neon,” Rainbow said. “It was … you got a rough draw.”

“And Schnee,” Flynt said, looking at her — or at least he seemed to be looking at her; it was hard to say with his sunglasses on. “You got some nice moves.”

“And now,” Doctor Oobleck announced, “as the ice melts in every sense on that thrilling first match, let’s have the draw for the second fight of the day!”

Weiss turned around her, her eyes drawn — along with all other gazes — towards the huge screens that dominated the top of the arena.

There were fewer faces to choose from, but even so, they were moving so quickly that Weiss couldn’t make out who was who until they came to a stop.

“The next match will be between Yang Xiao Long of Beacon and Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!” Doctor Oobleck yelled. “Will both competitors please make their way out onto the field?”


“Yang,” Blake murmured. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Rarity said.

“HMMMM!” Pinkie made the noise very loudly, looking from one to the other.

A slight snort jumped out of Blake’s nose. “I was just thinking about … well, about Yang, I suppose, but also about what she’s up against.”

“Do you know her?” Mom asked. “Her opponent, this Umber Gorgoneion?”

“I was up here all day with you yesterday, watching the two-on-two rounds,” Blake responded.

“Yes, but you can’t expect me to pay attention when it isn’t you or your friends fighting,” Mom replied breezily. “I was probably talking to Cadance at the time.”

“Probably; I don’t remember an Umber Gorgoneion either,” Cadance said. “Gorgoneion sounds like a Mistralian surname, doesn’t it?”

“Gorgoneion is a Mistralian surname,” Shining Armor confirmed. “The House of Gorgoneion, the House of the Serpent, the lords and ladies of Kisthene. Provincial nobles, but old and dignified and well-respected.”

“They held the Vytal Festival in Mistral when Shining Armor was student,” Cadance explained. “He spent a year at Haven Academy. By the end of it, they were calling him Mistralian Armor, weren’t they honey?”

“Really?” Mom asked, twisting in her seat to get a better look at him. “Now, see, I would never have thought that.”

Shining Armor laughed softly. “I’ve never been back to Mistral since; I’ve had a lot of time to grow back to my Atlesian self. But at the time, when I was there … yeah, I really liked it, I have to admit. The food was delicious, the landscape and the buildings were both beautiful, the weather was a great change of pace from Atlas, plus … the Mistralian students that we get at Atlas tend to not have a lot of good things to say about Mistral. Turnus made out that it was a real mess, like there were bodies lying in the streets, real anarchy. So when I got there, and it was pretty great … it seemed even better because it cleared my expectations so easily, you know? I mean, on the airship there, I was kind of terrified about what we were going to find, and then I get off the airship in a beautiful city!” He paused. “And I liked the … I guess you could call it the pageantry of it all, the old temples and the old families and the … sometimes, I feel like in Atlas we don’t have enough of a sense of our own history. Twily, name an old Atlesian hero.”

“Rockhoof,” Twilight said at once.

“Rockhoof?” Rarity repeated. “Didn’t he freeze to death?”

“Sure he did,” Applejack said. “But he did it heroically, tryin’ to find a northwest passage around Solitas.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call heroism, darling,” Rarity murmured.

“But some people would,” Twilight said.

“That’s one, dear,” Cadance pointed out.

Shining Armor nodded. “Okay, name five. It doesn’t have to be Twily; anyone can join in. You can, Blake, if you like.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, but no names emerged; no words emerged at all, for that matter.

That silence, the silence not only from Twilight but from all of Twilight’s friends as well, was the only thing that was stopping Blake from feeling very ashamed of herself: yes, she didn’t know any great heroes of the past of the kingdom that she was about to join, but it seemed as though nobody else did either.

Mind you, I don’t know who Rockhoof is. I should probably find out.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Shining Armor said. “Nobody from Mistral would have any problem answering that question.”

Pyrrha certainly wouldn’t, Blake admitted to herself. But nobody? “Nobody, or nobody from a certain strata of society?”

“Nobody … certainly no one at Haven, where it’s a compulsory subject,” Shining Armor said. “But honestly, I’d be surprised if it was just anyone. They marinade in these stories there; it’s not something that you have be educated to get access to, it’s not even something that you have to be taught, it’s—”

“You breathe it in like you breathe the air,” Mom said. “You walk the streets, and the eyes of Perseus the Rider and Hippolyta the Vengeful and the two great Theseids look down upon you from their statues upon the great pedestals. The ghosts of Juturna and Camilla, of Princess Lucrecia and Publius Rutulus haunt the city, whispering in the wind that blows through the streets. Their footsteps smoothed the very stones on which you walk in turn.” She smiled. “I was born in Mistral myself. Although … for faunus … there are some who would say that, as Mistralians, the history of Mistral is their history, and they have as much right to it as anyone else; others say that we have our own history, our own story to tell: the story of a people who create a culture in spite of all that their masters could do to them, who had songs and stories that they hid from those who thought them little better than animals; the story of those who resisted and, eventually, won their freedom.”

“And … you?” Cadance asked softly. “What do you think?”

Mom smiled. “Have you ever read Sienna Khan’s A Faunus History of Mistral? Actually, no, not even that; have you ever read Sienna Khan’s novel?”

“Sienna Khan wrote novels?” Blake asked. She’d had no idea. Certainly, Sienna herself had never mentioned it.

“Only one,” Mom replied. “A young adult novel, set before the Great War, about a slave in the Imperial palace. He falls in love, and eventually, the two of them escape to freedom in Vale, but before that, he’s present for … just about every major decision the Emperor took in those days. He’s there for the great debate amongst the lords on whether they should bow to Mantle’s will and ban all culture, art, and self-expression; he’s there for the puppet show that the Emperor watched with his children on the night he came to the decision. It’s not a great book, it's got too much history in it and not enough juicy personal drama, that’s why Sienna never wrote any more, but the point is that … it’s about the point that she also tried to make in her history of Mistral, which is that the faunus had always been there, even if they weren’t noticed by their so-called betters.”

“Serving the drinks,” Blake pointed out.

“But there, all the same,” Mom repeated. “Present. The achievements of our ancestors, and the different lives that they led, are worth remembering, but those who say that the history of Mistral, the history of all the kingdoms, belongs to us as much to anyone else, are right. It’s a shame that Sienna herself forgot that somewhere down the line.”

“In Atlas, we sometimes act like our history is something to be ashamed of,” Shining Armor said.

“Because we prefer to look to the future,” suggested Cadance.

“Can’t you look to the future without forgetting your past?” replied Shining Armor.

“I don’t know; how are the Mistralians doing in that regard?” she said.

“Ah feel as if we might be getting a mite off the point,” Applejack said. “Or maybe Ah’m just sayin’ that because y’all are makin’ mah head spin.”

“You and me both; I stopped following this ages ago,” Pinkie said.

Blake covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I suppose the point is that Umber Gorgoneion, who is a Mistralian, apparently, and from a noble family, which makes me wonder why she went to Shade Academy, but anyway … Yang’s opponent fights with whips. More like cat o’nine tails, almost, each which has multiple lashes, and they extend outwards. We saw that yesterday, those of us who were watching.”

“Mhmm,” Applejack nodded. “She was pretty handy with them too, used ‘em like … like spider’s webs, to tangle up her opponents in ‘em. Didn’t see any sign of her semblance, though.”

Blake shook her head. “Me neither. Hopefully, it’s nothing too surprising for Yang.” She paused for a moment. “If she can close in with her, Yang should have this; she’s incredibly strong. So long as Umber Gorgoneion doesn’t tie her up in her spider’s web.”


Yang put her hands down upon the arms of her seat. “So,” she said. “Looks like I’m up next, huh?”

She was sitting in the competitor’s section of the stands, the front two rows reserved for the teams that had been initially selected to compete.

Nora and Ren sat on her right, and it was Nora who gave her a thumbs up. “You’ve got this!”

Ren said nothing, but he did offer a supportive nod.

Yang started to stand up. “Thanks, guys,” she said, before looking to her left; Jaune was there, and an empty seat for Pyrrha who had gone to congratulate Weiss on her victory, and Penny was there too … but no Ruby.

Of course, there was a very good reason why Ruby wasn’t there: somebody had to look after Amber and Dove — if only in case Cinder turned out to be telling the truth and Bon Bon turned out to have been working for Salem all this time — and Yang could understand why Ruby had volunteered for that important job; she’d been there when Ruby volunteered for that important job, after all.

“So,” Yang said, as Penny put her scroll away. “The Vytal Tournament is still on and we’re still on for the Vytal Tournament.”

“So it would seem,” Pyrrha said softly. “I … I must confess that I am not entirely disappointed. No, in fact, I will go further than that: I am not disappointed.”

“Not that anyone expects you to be disappointed,” Yang said, a smile playing across her face, “but why not?”

“Because this is to be my last tournament, and I would rather … finish it, by winning or by being knocked out in a fair fight,” Pyrrha said. “But I’ve never quit a tournament half-done in my entire career, and I would rather not end my time in the arena with a tournament that was cancelled — even by such a cancellation-worthy thing as an impending grimm attack.”

Yang chuckled. “Well, that’s fair enough, I guess.”

“It makes sense,” Penny said. “To keep the tournament going, I mean.”

“Because of the panic otherwise?” Jaune asked.

“No, because of General Ironwood’s ships around the Colosseum, and the guards in there, and down at Beacon,” Penny explained. “Beacon, and Amity, might be safer than Vale today.”

“That’s a thought,” Jaune said. He paused for a second. “Another thought is, who's going to stay with Amber today? It can’t be Pyrrha, and we can’t ask Rainbow Dash, and we probably can’t ask Blake either, what with her mom here, so—”

“I’ll do it,” Penny said. “I’m the team leader, after all, so I will … make this sacrifice for the good of the team.” Her green eyes widened. “Not that spending time with you is a sacrifice, Amber; I just meant—”

“That you’d rather watch the final matches,” Amber said softly. “I understand. It doesn’t offend me. If anything, I should be apologising to you, for keeping you here like this.”

“It’s alright,” Penny said. “It has to be done. We can’t risk losing you now, not after everything, And I’m not going to tell Ruby or Jaune that—”

“I’ll do it,” Ruby said.

Penny looked at her. “Ruby, I just said I wasn’t going to tell you to—”

“You really want to see Pyrrha fight, right?” Ruby asked.

Penny hesitated. “That isn’t a very good reason,” she said quietly.

“Then how about this for a reason?” Ruby went on. “If there is an attack in the middle of the tournament, then the team leader should be with the majority of her teammates, not down on the ground while they’re all up on a floating stage. Professor Ozpin made you team leader because he trusted you to lead, but you have to be in the right place to give the orders, right? I’ll stay with Amber and Dove.” She looked at Amber. “That’s fine, isn’t it?”

Amber was quiet for a second. She glanced at Penny, and then at Dove, then at Pyrrha, and only once she’d looked at everyone else except Ruby did she actually finally look at Ruby again. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you, Ruby.”

“Yes, thank you, Ruby,” added Penny.

Ruby shrugged. “It was the right call. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

Yeah, it was the right call; Ruby’s argument had made sense, there was no point in a team leader who wasn’t where the rest of her teammates were when the metal met.

But all the same, Yang was a little disappointed that she wasn’t here.

Still, she’d tell Ruby all about it when she got back to school.

Yang got to her feet. Her opponent was already up, looking at Yang as though she were waiting for her — which she was, but she didn’t need to wait for Yang to get up to go down to the arena.

Then again, she also looked a little bit like she was sizing Yang up. It was hard to say because her eyes were hidden.

Umber Gorgoneion was wearing a long black leather jacket that went down pretty much to her shins and which must have gotten really hot and sweaty in the Vacuo desert, or at least, Yang would have thought so; perhaps Umber was just one of those people who was prepared to endure any discomfort in the name of looking good, like Weiss, Pyrrha, and Blake in those high heels. Anyway, Yang could also see a pair of black fingerless gloves covering most of Umber’s hands before disappearing into the sleeves of her jacket — said sleeves had green serpents, with yellow eyes and flickering red tongues, sewn onto the outsides of the leather. Underneath the jacket, she was wearing a coat of scale armour, with each scale a dull, brown-green colour that absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. She wore a short green skirt over stone-grey jeans, with black leather boots that went up almost as far as her knees. Her hair was braided in such a way that it looked like snakes, snakes that were writhing and hissing on top of her head in the direction of whoever she was looking at; the fact that she had dyed her hair in interwoven streaks of green and brown didn’t hurt with that impression at all. She wore a silver armband over her jacket, above the elbow of her right arm — not the left, the way that Pyrrha and Blake wore similar armbands — and her eyes were concealed beneath the opaque sunglasses that she was wearing.

Yang remembered her from the planning of the Vytal parade. She had been sharp with the Haven student who had claimed to know her family, very insistent that she was Vacuan, not Mistralian, but other than that, she’d been … kind of quiet.

Yang approached her, holding out one hand. “May the best huntress win,” she said.

“I plan to,” Umber said and walked off without shaking Yang’s hand.

Yang was left standing there, blinking in surprise.

“Well, that was rude,” Nora declared. “You really need to kick her ass after that!”

Yang looked back at her. “I’m certainly not gonna go easy on her now,” she said jokingly — half-jokingly, anyway — as she followed Umber down from the stands towards the battlefield.

She passed Pyrrha and Weiss on the way back, along with Rainbow Dash and some of the other Atlesians.

“Good luck out there,” Weiss said.

“Congratulations to you too, Weiss,” Yang said. “I was worried about you there for a second, but you pulled it out the bag in the end.”

“Yes, well, just doing my part to uphold the honour of Beacon Academy,” Weiss said. “Of course, now that I’ve started us off on such a strong foot, it’s up to the both of you to make sure that you don’t let the school down.”

“With good fortune, we will both make Beacon proud,” Pyrrha said. “How do you feel, Yang?”

“So long as I can get close, I’ll be fine,” Yang said. “And I’ll find a way to get in close, don’t you worry.”

“You’ll do very well, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said. “Best of luck.”

“Thanks, you two,” Yang said. “I hope I don’t need it.” She left them, and the Atlesians with them, and made her way down the corridor — the same corridor that they’d all headed back into before the start of Weiss’ match with Neon — and out into the arena.

The crowd cheered loudly, and Yang couldn’t resist raising one fist in the air, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet a little, her pace quickening so that she was halfway running the rest of the way across the featureless stadium until she stood on the central hexagon that would be their battlefield.

The rest of the arena retracted, just like it had for Weiss and Neon, and just like it had for them, the hexagon began to descend, lowering closer to the floor beneath them.

Umber paced up and down impatiently, her long coat trailing after her.

“Nervous?” Yang asked, with a bit of a grin.

Umber looked at her, or at least, Yang thought she did; her head was pointed in Yang’s direction.

“No,” she said sharply. “I just want to get this over with.”

A pair of weapons dropped out of the sleeves of her jacket and into her waiting hands. They looked like a pair of cat o’nine tails, the multi-lashed whips that ships used to use for punishing sailors back in the bad old days before things became a little more civilised; Umber’s whips looked a little longer than the pictures of those that Yang had seen, with metal snake-heads at the tips and long, cudgel-like handles that concealed more whip inside of them.

The visible parts of the lashes swayed gently back and forth in Umber’s grip.

“Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!” Professor Port declared, prompting Umber to raise one hand in the air, the short tails of her lash dropping down towards her head as the crowd cheered.

“Yang Xiao Long of Beacon!” Professor Port cried, and Yang raised her own fist in turn.

“Three!” Doctor Oobleck cried.

Yang pumped her arms, causing her Ember Celica to snap into position, ready to fire.

“I know you want to win this,” Yang said, “but don’t take me lightly.”

“Two!” shouted Doctor Oobleck.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Umber said. “And don’t you think about taking me lightly because I’m a Shade student.”

“One!” Doctor Oobleck yelled. “FIGHT!”

Yang stepped forward, throwing out punches at the air, firing shot after shot from Ember Celica straight at Umber.

Umber took a step forward too, her lashes extending outwards as she weaved her many whips through the air; they made whooshing sounds as they intercepted Yang’s shots, the explosions blossoming upon the metal snakeheads or upon the rippling black leather.

Umber flicked her whip in Yang’s direction, a multitude of lashes leaping out at her, growing longer as they closed in on her like animals. Yang sidestepped, letting the whips crack past her — one of them scratched at her face a little, but it hardly registered — before she kept on turning, firing behind her as she kicked off the ground and let the recoil of Ember Celica bear her across the hexagon towards her opponent.

She rolled in mid-air like an airship. Umber cracked the whip at her, nine lashes striking her across the face, tearing at her aura, but they couldn’t slow Yang’s momentum down, especially when she fired off a couple more shots for a burst of extra power.

The lashes fell from Umber’s hands as Yang drew back her right fist for a punch.

Yang threw the punch, aiming for Umber’s face.

Umber caught Yang’s fist in her hand, fingers closing around Yang’s knuckles even as Ember Celica fired straight into them.

Umber didn’t let go. She winced, or at least, Yang thought she did, but she didn’t flinch; in fact, she punched Yang in the gut with her free hand, getting an ‘oof’ of winded pain out of Yang before she grabbed her by the belt.

Umber spun on the toes of her boots, swinging Yang around before throwing her at the edge of the battlefield.

Yang fired desperately as the edge of the arena came closer and closer, Ember Celica roaring repeatedly as she frantically built up the counter force that would stop her before she fell off the edge of the hexagon — unlike Weiss, she didn’t have anything to catch her before she reached the ground.

She managed it, just about, landing on the very edge of the hexagon, poised on the edge of the defeat.

She leapt away quickly before Umber could knock her off of it.

Yang rolled, her hair flying around her for a second, before rising up to one knee and letting off a flurry of shots in Umber’s direction. But Umber was on the move as well, her lashes back in her hands as she danced away from the shots of Ember Celica. She cracked her whips at Yang, who rolled away once more before loosing some more shots. Umber had just used her whips to try and land a hit on Yang, and so they were out of place to try and block the hits of her; Yang hit her twice in the shoulder, spinning her around, forcing her back.

Yang rose up and began to charge.

Umber flicked one lash back towards her. The snake-headed whips coiled around Yang’s feet, tightening around her boots. Umber yanked the lash towards her, pulling Yang off her feet so that he landed heavily on her back on the ground.

Yang sat up, still firing at Umber, who bent down as the shots hit home, fires bursting on her leather jacket as she lashed at Yang with her other whip. The snake-headed tongues whooshed through the air as they coiled around Yang’s wrists and arms, one around her neck.

Umber’s expression was grim as she pulled on both her lashes, twisting Yang around so that, instead of facing Umber, Yang was lying spread out before her, legs being pulled in one direction, arms in the other.

Yang grunted as she pulled at the whips that bound her arms. Through her aura, she could feel them digging into her skin, she could feel them being pulled in one direction just as she could feel her legs being pulled the other way.

Umber’s arms were wholly spread out on either side of her by now, and Yang guessed that her next move would be to try and drag Yang towards the edge of the field and dump her off it.

Umber started dragging Yang towards the edge of the hexagon.

Yang pulled with both her arms, straining against the bonds. The whips tightened, and as they tightened, they bit into her aura more.

And as they bit, Yang got a little bit stronger.

She hadn’t lost a lot of aura yet, so her semblance wasn’t really kicking in, and to be honest, the damage she was taking from this position wasn’t much either, but every little helped as Yang hauled, heaving with all her ever but gradually growing might.

Umber scowled and began to look as though she was straining herself with concentration as she dragged Yang across the ground.

She reached the edge of the hexagon herself and began to turn, trying to sweep Yang across the floor and off the edge of their little world.

Yang took a deep breath, right down to her core muscles, before she tried to roll onto her side and pulled hard, firing Ember Celica as she did so for extra oomph.

She wrenched the lash that held her arms out of Umber’s hand. Yang flicked it away, sending it flying over her, skittering to the far edge of the battlefield, as she tried to disentangle her arms and neck.

She pulled with her legs, but instead of getting the other whip out of Umber’s hands, the lashes released her — Umber must have preferred to keep hold of one of her weapons.

She struck Yang with it, cracking it down on her, nine metal heads biting into Yang’s aura.

Yang leapt to her feet, flames flickering upon the edges of her hair, to see Umber charging towards her.

Yang grinned, slamming her fists together in anticipation.

The whips from Umber’s lash shortened dramatically as she charged, shortening so far that Umber could use them to hit Yang once more before she got too close even for that.

Yang threw a punch at Umber’s face. Umber blocked it, turning Yang’s blow aside with her forearm so that her fist didn’t connect and her shot went wild.

She dropped her lash and hit Yang in the gut again. Yang paid her back in kind, slamming her fist into her scale shirt as her eyes began to turn red. Umber jerked but didn’t double over. She hit Yang again in the stomach before she went for an uppercut. Yang swayed aside, letting Umber’s first soar up past her face before she grabbed her by the arm — turnabout was fair play — and threw her over Yang’s shoulder to slam her down onto the ground.

Umber rolled to her feet, avoiding the fist that Yang slammed down into the ground where her face would have been. Umber’s leather jacket whirled around her as she aimed a spinning kick at Yang, who dodged it with a spin of her own, taking a step back before snapping off two shots at Umber.

Umber rushed at Yang again, despite the shots, and despite the state of her aura. She threw a punch, which turned out to be a feint to make Yang move to block, in doing so leaving her face open to Umber’s real blow. Umber tried to sweep Yang’s legs out from under her, but Yang shifted her foot to let Umber’s kick pass harmlessly by, before she kicked Umber in the knee.

Umber grimaced, knocked off balance for a second.

Yang hit her across the cheek hard enough to snap her face around.

Yang drew back her fist for another blow.

“Enough!” Umber yelled, pulling her sunglasses off as she looked Yang in the eyes.

Her eyes were glowing, burning with intense yellow-orange light, like a fire burning behind them.

And Yang … couldn’t move.

She couldn’t move a muscle. Nothing. She couldn’t punch Umber in the face, she couldn’t kick her, she couldn’t get out of the way, she couldn’t so much as wiggle her fingers or her toes. She could breathe, which was good, but only shallowly, because it felt as though she couldn’t move her chest at all. Everything was absolutely rigid, as though she’d been turned to stone, become a statue of Yang Xiao Long to decorate someone’s garden.

It was … kind of terrifying, to be honest. She couldn’t even demand to know what Umber had done to her because she couldn’t move her lips! She couldn’t do anything. Her aura was still up, it was fine, but it wasn’t helping her at all. She was completely and utterly helpless.

She was even more helpless than she had been that day in the woods when she had dragged Ruby out on that wagon looking for her mother.

And this time, she didn’t think that Uncle Qrow was going to come and save her.

“My apologies,” Umber said, her breathing sounding a little ragged. “I didn’t want to use my semblance — it feels like a cheat — but I didn’t want to lose either, and you’re just too good for me.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

She put a hand around Yang’s frigid, frozen neck, and grunted with effort as she lifted Yang up.

Yang remained in the posture she had been in when Umber looked at her, poised to throw a punch that would never land.

She remained frozen in that way as Umber began to carry her across the battlefield.

She moved in an ungainly way, encumbered by the awkwardly positioned Yang, but she moved inexorably all the same.

This was … this was ludicrous! This was wrong! She’d been winning this fight, she’d been about to win this fight, but now she was going to get knocked out because her opponent had the most BS semblance ever! She could freeze Yang up just by looking at her! How was Yang supposed to fight that?! What kind of a test of skill was this?! This was supposed to be a tournament, not a ‘who got born with the best superpower’ contest!

Yang hoped that getting angry would trigger her own semblance and let her break through the effect of Umber’s, but no luck. She was still frozen, immobile, statuesque.

And she stayed that way right up until Umber dropped her off the edge of the arena.

She stayed that way as she fell, barely able to feel the air whooshing past her.

She stayed that way until the split second before she hit the ground when Umber, who had been watching her fall, put her sunglasses back on and turned away.

Yang unfroze, finishing the punch that had never landed, just as she landed on the surface with a hard slam.

Not as hard as the weight of defeat as she heard Professor Port say, “Yang Xiao Long has been defeated by ring out! Umber Gorgoneion wins the match!”

Yang sat up, but her shoulders were slumped, and her head was bowed. So, that was it then. She’d lost. She was out.

It’s not the end of the world, I guess — that comes later tonight — but still.

Sucks all the same.

I thought I might at least make it to the second round.

Stupid semblance.

Still, it was fun while it lasted. And hopefully, it kept the crowd happy. I guess that’s the important thing right now.

Although if either Weiss or Pyrrha could avenge me and kick the living daylights out of that girl up there, I consider that pretty important right now, too.

Yang looked up. She couldn’t see Umber Gorgoneion, but she had no doubt that her victorious opponent was basking in the adulation of the cheering crowd.

She couldn’t see Umber, but she could hear the crowd for sure.

But if she uses that semblance again, what could Weiss or Pyrrha do about it?

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