SAPR

by Scipio Smith

And We've Got What It Takes (New)

And We’ve Got What It Takes

“Hey, El-Tee,” Mallard said, “Weiss Schnee is gonna be a Vytal finalist.”

Martinez looked at him while not looking at him, keeping her eyes on the outside while shifting just a little bit to show that she was paying attention. “Is she?”

“Yeah,” Mallard replied, waving his scroll a little bit. “Says here she just won her semifinals match. A match that no one could see, but still.”

“Nobody could see it?”

“Weiss and her opponent went down under the stage, where there’s a blindspot for the cameras,” Mallard explained. “At least, that’s what it says here.”

“Huh,” Martinez muttered. “You know, that makes me feel a little bit better about the fact that I’m stuck here like this and couldn’t watch the fight anyway.” Disappointing for Stuart and Tyler though, I’ll bet. She smirked. “All the same, atta girl. You go get ‘em. Is the crowd still giving her a hard time?”

“A little bit, but not as bad, it says,” Mallard said, looking at his scroll again. “Says here she got more cheers than boos. It helps that her opponent was really good about it, apparently.”

“Well, that’s good; she never deserved to have all that crap thrown her way,” Martinez said. “Do you know who she’s up against in the final?”

“Not yet,” said Mallard. “She had the first match, and the match coming up will decide who she’s up against.”

“Right,” Martinez murmured. “Then you should put that away; we’ve got work to do.”

“Sure thing, El-Tee, but don’t you want to hear about the White Fang first?”

Martinez’s head snapped around. “'White Fang'?”

“Details are sketchy, but during the break between the quarter- and semi-finals, there was some trouble, and a bunch of people got arrested. They’re saying it was White Fang trying to do … something.” Mallard frowned. “Do you think it’s connected to what we’re doing out here?”

“I don’t know, but it could be,” Martinez said. “I mean, somebody is expecting trouble, or we wouldn’t be out here in the first place, so … yeah. It could be. Maybe someone — the Council, Ozpin, someone — knew that there was going to be an attack somewhere but didn’t know where it was going to be, that’s why we’re here, that’s why somebody tried to cover all the bases like this.”

“Only it turned out they were trying to hit Amity Arena,” Mallard said.

Martinez nodded. “That’s one theory. Only it can’t have been much of a hit if they took care of it all and had the semifinals afterwards. Sounds like a damp squib, don’t you think?”

Mallard nodded. “So … you think it’s not over?”

“I think we’ve got no excuse to assume that everything’s been all wrapped up and we can take our eyes off the ball,” Martinez said, and she looked out of the front windscreen of the van once again. “Put that away.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

---

Leaf groaned. She groaned intensely as she put her head between her knees, her hands on top of her head, behind her squirrel ears.

Leaf groaned. Rainbow was out? Rainbow was out? Rainbow had been knocked out of the tournament?

It was bad enough that Blake had decided to drop out in round one, and Sunset had dropped out after round two — though she was probably glad that she’d done that, considering the bollocks that had been spread about her online since last night — but Rainbow was out? The one that Leaf had been counting on to go all the way, and she was out? All Leaf’s faves were out?

The one time, the one time — how many other times was she going to get the chance to say that a whole bunch of Vytal Festival contestants were her friends? — that she had known a load of the fighters competing, and they were all out now.

Her friend was out, and knocked out by Weiss Schnee!

It was cruel. It was way too cruel.

She felt Veil’s hand upon her back, rubbing it gently up and down.

“There, there,” Veil said. “There, there.”

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” Leaf said.

“Do you need to ask?”

Leaf scowled as she raised her head. “Why shouldn’t I be upset about this?”

“Because your friend Rainbow doesn’t look too upset,” Veil pointed out, gesturing towards the TV. “Look at her.”

Leaf looked. On the TV screen, Rainbow Dash was shaking hands with Weiss Schnee. She had her other hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder. They looked pretty friendly, she had to admit.

Rainbow Dash, her friend, looked pretty friendly with Weiss Schnee. Weiss Schnee.

Maybe … maybe Rainbow knew something she didn’t, something like what they were saying on the news, that it wasn’t the fault of the Schnee family, that it was bad apples in the company or whatever. Leaf hadn’t believed that, but now, watching Rainbow Dash with Weiss Schnee like that … maybe it was true.

If Rainbow thought that it wasn’t true, if Rainbow thought that the Schnee family had been involved in what they were doing in those camps, then she wouldn’t be acting like that, would she?

No, no, she wouldn’t, and Leaf would stand for no arguments upon that point.

Maybe I’ll call her and ask about it.

It’s not like she has anything going on right now, unfortunately.

“Well … okay, let’s say that she’s not that bad,” Leaf admitted. “Her first fight was pretty good, and that fight … we couldn’t see that fight, which sucks, but whatever, maybe she’s okay. But even if she was the nicest person ever, even if her family had nothing to do with any of that stuff and Jacques Schnee was just really bad at running his company, then I can still be upset that Rainbow got knocked out because that’s just terrible!” She flopped backwards against the sofa. “I mean, who am I supposed to root for now?”

---

“So,” Principal Celestia said, “all our Canterlot alumni have been eliminated.”

“Yes,” Vice-Principal Luna murmured. “Yes, they have. I wonder where all Rainbow Dash’s aura went? Was she involved with that reported disturbance with the White Fang, do you think?”

“If there was a disturbance with the White Fang,” Celestia replied. “It’s all speculation at this stage.”

“Yes, like the speculation about Sunset Shimmer,” Luna remarked.

Celestia was silent for a moment. “Even if we are to go around casting aspersions at elected Councillors—”

Luna snorted. “Elected Councillors indeed, now there is a standard to attach honesty to.”

Celestia shook her head. “Even if we are to go around calling them liars … I am sure that Sunset Shimmer did what she thought was best.”

“I am sure of that too; it worries me more than it appears to bother you,” Luna remarked. “Regardless of that, I’m sure that something happened up on the arena; Rainbow Dash’s aura didn’t deplete itself, after all, and she had much more of it after her fight with Sun Wukong. Enough to carry her through that battle, I think.”

“You’re quite right that something happened up there,” Celestia agreed. “Whether it was actually the White Fang or no … at this stage, we can hardly say, can we?”

“No,” Luna admitted. “No, I suppose we can’t.” She got up. “But, in any case, whether it was the White Fang or Silver Bullet or someone else completely different, something happened, and I believe that Rainbow Dash was involved in that something, and that something took a bite out of her aura.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Celestia said. “All the same, it is a pity that she is out.”

“To be a semifinalist is not nothing,” Luna pointed out. “It’s more than either of us managed.”

Celestia snorted. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that is quite true.”

Luna sighed, and as she sighed she got to her feet. “And now that all that is over with, I suppose I should begin my packing.”

“So soon?” Celestia asked. “The transfer—”

“May come at any time, and probably sooner rather than later if James has his way,” Luna said.

“Yes,” Celestia whispered. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She paused for a moment. “I will miss you, and so will the children, I believe.”

“This is not goodbye, sister,” Luna pointed out.

“Then why do you act like it is so much worse than goodbye?” Celestia asked. “You act like you’re going to your execution, not taking up a prestigious teaching post in Atlas.”

“In Atlas, yes. Prestigious? We shall see what I make of it, I suppose,” Luna said. “Teaching the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses to battle nightmares within the dreams of their friends, their comrades, and eventually everyone else as well. I may — I hope I will — make something prestigious of that, but … that doesn’t change the fact that this is not my choice. Yes, James is being very good about the whole thing — he could have been a lot harder on me — but … it is not my choice; I am being forced to flee against my will from the malice of Salem, and because of Lionheart, besides. You will, I hope, forgive me if that does not put me in a good humour.”

---

Rainbow had her hands tucked behind her head as she walked around the Promenade, ambling slowly in the direction of Cadance’s box. Sure, she could have gone back to the competitors’ area with Weiss, but she figured that instead she’d go check in on Twi and Blake and everyone, see how they were doing.

See how they’d reacted to Applejack’s face.

See if Blake had told them the truth about the White Fang attack. Rainbow wouldn’t put it past her not to try and pass it off with some kind of ‘well, I don’t know why the White Fang would try anything here’ because she didn’t want a fuss made over her.

And so Rainbow walked along the promenade, which was quieter now than it had been, because so many people were still in their seats waiting for the next match — Pyrrha versus Umber. How was Pyrrha going to deal with that semblance? One of the pleasures of being a spectator now was that Rainbow could wait and find out without having anything ulterior riding on the outcome.

Anyway, the promenade wasn’t so crowded now because most people were staying in their seats, and if they were paying attention, then they were thinking the same thing Rainbow was: how was Pyrrha, or anyone else, going to stop Umber when she could just freeze them with a look? What they weren’t doing was paying attention to Rainbow Dash, and why would they? She’d just lost, after all. She was nothing now, unimportant.

“Rainbow Dash?”

The voice was not familiar to Rainbow, but she stopped and turned around anyway. She was confronted by a young woman, maybe her age or a little bit older, with a little bit of blonde hair peeking out from underneath the rainbow-coloured wig that she was wearing on top of her head. She wore a turquoise blouse and a blue skirt, with a little gold bangle hanging off the wrist of her right hand. She was a faunus, with lizard scales on her face, most prominently around her eyes but also speckling her cheeks and neck; she had the letters SDC painted on her face, around one of her blue eyes, just like Sabine and Reynard had done before their doubles match with Weiss.

“You are Rainbow Dash, aren’t you?” she asked. She chuckled. “Otherwise, I guess congratulations are in order for a very accurate cosplay.”

Rainbow let out a little laugh. “No, I’m Rainbow Dash. And you are?”

“Strato Henderson,” Strato said. “I just wanted to say that I am … saying that I’m a big fan doesn’t seem to really cover it, but I don’t know … thank you, for what you did with the SDC not long ago. And I heard that wasn’t even the first time you’d rescued some people in trouble.”

“Well, I guess not; I was just glad I could help,” Rainbow said. “Did you … did you know anyone—?”

“No,” Strato said. “No, thank gods, my mother is on deployment to Argus right now, or she’d be here too, and my Dad owns a hobby shop in Atlas — he hates to fly, or else he’d be here — and no, no one that I know has gotten mixed up in that awful business; it’s just … when we found out what they were doing there, it was so awful, but you … it’s good to know that someone is able to stand up to them, and stand up for us too. You’re a real inspiration.”

Again, Rainbow almost laughed. It … it warmed her heart to hear it, she wasn’t going to lie about that, there was no way that she could hear someone telling her that she was a real inspiration and not get a good feeling out of it — she could feel her faunus ears starting to heat up — but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was stealing credit that didn’t entirely belong to her.

“I wasn’t alone in that,” she pointed out. “Not with the SDC, and not with the other thing you mentioned, down in Low Town, either.”

“I know, you were with Blake Belladonna,” Strato said. “But … my parents aren’t the leaders of Menagerie, they aren’t anything special at all, they’re just ordinary people, and I … living in Atlas, do you ever feel like you’re not enough of a faunus to be a faunus?”

“How do you mean?” Rainbow asked.

“I guess I mean like … I haven’t suffered enough?” Strato said. “That sounds really stupid, I know, but down in Mantle, or in Low Town, or—”

“I’m sure that your old man worked really hard to get that shop up in Atlas, and I know your mother works hard in the military,” Rainbow told her. “I know that … there’s no call to be ashamed of your parents or of where you grew up. It’s not your fault that you grew up somewhere nice.”

“I know, I get it, I … I understand that,” Strato replied. “I guess my point is that someone like you, someone who grew up in Atlas too, the fact that you’re able to do your part and fight the good fight, I think that’s pretty cool, and it speaks to me more than Blake Belladonna does.” She held out her hand. “I guess what I’m trying to say is 'thank you for all your service.'”

Rainbow smiled as she took Strato’s hand. “Thank you, for saying that.” She considered asking her to take the SDC off her face, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. On the other hand, it was kind of rude to Weiss. “You know … Weiss didn’t really—”

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t about her,” Strato assured her. “This … this is about the company. Just because the Schnee family didn’t have anything to do with it, their business sure did. You know that they’re fighting compensation claims?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

She wasn’t sure what the SDC was thinking there; surely, there was no way that they would actually win in a case like that. Or maybe they might, since they could argue that Calliope Ferny and her associates had gone rogue, but still, they were SDC facilities, run and managed by SDC personnel, off the books or not.

Not to mention it was just not a great look to be fighting a case like this.

“This isn’t about the Schnee family; it’s about … it’s about doing something, even if it is something small, to keep reminding people that this happened, and that it’s still happening in some ways, and that we won’t let it go until justice is served.”

“That’s … that’s good to hear,” Rainbow said. I guess if it’s nothing to do with Weiss, then there’s no reason why she shouldn’t wear it. I mean that is what they burned onto the skin of their slaves.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Strato said. “I won’t take up any more of your time; I just wanted to let you know that you mean a lot to me, even though … I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow assured her. “It was good to meet you.”

Strato smiled. “Thanks. Um, before you go, could I get a selfie?”

Rainbow’s smile widened. “Sure,” she said, and turned around as Strato put one arm around Rainbow’s shoulder and held up her scroll in front of them both with the other. Rainbow felt Strato’s head touching hers, or at least the Rainbow wig that Strato was wearing touching her head, nudging her ear just a bit.

She grinned and flashed a peace sign up in front of her.

There was a flash from out of Strato’s scroll.

“Thank you!” Strato cried. “Thank you so much! Enjoy your day!”

“You too!” Rainbow said, waving to her as Strato headed off, presumably heading back to her seat, or to find a new seat to watch the last couple of matches.

Strato headed off, but the smile stayed on Rainbow’s face as she turned around, and resumed her journey around the promenade towards Cadance’s box.

Her scroll went off before she’d gone more than another ten or fifteen feet.

Rainbow fished into her jacket pocket for it; she suspected that it might be Pinkie asking her where she was, but it actually turned out to be a bit more of a surprise: it was Leaf calling.

She answered, tapping the green icon lightly with her thumb. “Leaf? Is everything okay?”

Leaf’s face appeared on the screen of Rainbow’s scroll; it looked like she was calling from inside a bathroom. There was a little cup with a pair of toothbrushes inside on the shelf behind her, along with a tube of toothpaste, a bottle of soap, and a roll of toilet roll. “Well, I just saw you get knocked out of the tournament, so it isn’t going brilliantly, but better than you’re doing, maybe?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Rainbow told her. “It’s just a tournament; it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Leaf said. She stared out of the screen at Rainbow, a very flat look upon her face. “Rainbow. Dash.”

“Uh … yes?” Rainbow asked.

“I know that I’m not a big famous huntress who fights in the Vytal Tournament and is getting a TV show made about me — congratulations on that, by the way.”

Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, that’s pretty awesome. At least I think so. Blake has a few more reservations than me.”

“Is that because of the whole ‘killing off her mom’ thing?”

“The what thing?!” Rainbow cried, her voice rising.

“Apparently not.”

“No, seriously, what are you talking about?” Rainbow demanded.

“Well, my roommate read an article about your show; it says that one of the big plot arcs in the series is going to be the search for the truth about Blake’s mom and her death when Blake was a kid. Or something like that.”

Rainbow blinked rapidly. “But … Blake’s mom is still alive.”

“I’m a little worried about the way that they’re messing around with it too,” Leaf admitted. “Veil — she’s my roommate — she thinks that it’ll be fine, but I just don’t see why they have to take a perfectly good story and mess around with it so much. But maybe it’ll be fine. And hey, at least you get a TV show made about you; how many people get to say that?”

“I’m not sure Blake will see it that way,” Rainbow muttered. She’s going to kill me when she finds out about this. I’ll be as dead as her mother in this TV concept.

“Will she care?” Leaf asked. “I mean, Blake didn’t get on with her parents, right?”

“She … her mom came to see her at Beacon, and they’ve made up,” Rainbow explained. “I’m on my way to meet her right now. She’s actually kind of awesome.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow declared. “She’s wise and kind, but she doesn’t take herself — or anything else — too seriously either. At least, she pretends not to, most of the time. She can be serious, when she has to be. And she supports Blake in whatever she does, even when she doesn’t agree with her.”

“Sounds like the perfect mom,” Leaf remarked.

“You could do a lot worse,” Rainbow agreed. “Although if she could hear us, Blake’s mom would be the first person to tell us to appreciate the parents that we have and not wish for somebody else’s mother. At least, I’m pretty sure she would. And you know, I think a character like that would really work on TV nowadays; Blake could use someone to give her some good advice. And I’m not just talking about on TV either.”

“Maybe she’ll get a mother figure?” Leaf suggested.

“Or they could just use her actual mom,” Rainbow said. She sighed. “I feel like I should thank you for telling me about this, but at the same time, I really don’t like that you told me, because now I have to decide whether I’m going to tell Blake about it or not. On the one hand, I should be honest and tell her the truth; on the other hand … I don’t think she’ll like the truth.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Leaf said. “Pretend that you didn’t hear it from me, and it’s not like you found it anywhere else. I could tell her if you like?”

“No, I’ll tell her,” Rainbow said. “That way, she can get mad at me instead of you, since it was … kind of my idea that we should agree to let our names be used for this show in the first place.” Hopefully, the rest of it will be so good that she’ll forget about the dead Mom thing and come to appreciate its merits.

Because it’s bound to have some.

“Okay,” Leaf said. “Anyway, that’s not what I was going to say; what I was actually going to say was that I’m not famous like you, and I don’t get to fight in the Vytal Tournament with everyone watching, but I am still a competitive athlete, and I’ve spent enough time competing in motorcycle races to know that as much as you try and pretend that it doesn’t matter and it’s just a race and all of that other stuff that you say to make people think you’re a good sport, losing still hits you like … well, it hits you. So how are you doing?”

Rainbow hesitated. “I…”

“Come on!” Leaf cried. “We’re mates, right?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, we … what does that mean?”

Leaf rolled her eyes. “It’s Valish for ‘friend.’”

“Oh, right, then yeah, absolutely, we’re friends,” Rainbow said.

“Then tell me!” Leaf demanded. “Come on, if we’re mates, or friends, then you can tell me how you really feel. No judgement. Like I said, I’ve been there.”

Rainbow bit her lip. “Okay, I’ll tell you, I … I wasn’t actually supposed to go into the final round,” she said. “Penny was, because … that doesn’t matter—”

“But Penny didn’t even go through into the two-on-two round,” Leaf pointed out.

“No, she didn’t,” Rainbow said. “Because Ciel and I wanted it, and in the end, Penny didn’t want it; it was only other people who wanted it for her. So Ciel took her spot in the two-on-two, and I took her spot in the one-on-one. Which is a way of saying that I wish that I’d been able to go all the way. I wanted to be able to go all the way. I was … I’m not going to tell you that I expected to win, because Pyrrha Nikos has already beaten me once, and she probably would have beaten me again, but I would have liked to have gotten as far as the finals. I mean, everyone would like to get as far as the finals, I’m sure, but I … I would have liked to have gotten that far, you know? I would have really liked it. I know it doesn’t really matter, and there are more important things — this isn’t even the most important thing to happen to me today, actually—”

“You mean there really was a White Fang attack at the Amity Arena?” Leaf asked.

“You heard about— of course you did, it was on the news,” Rainbow muttered. “Basically, yes.”

“And that’s where your aura went between matches?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Rainbow said. “And, you know, the fact that Blake is okay, and so is everyone else — except for the bad guys — is more important than what happens in a tournament fight, but, all the same—”

“You wish you’d won.”

“It’s been a buzz,” Rainbow said. “Standing there with the crowd cheering for me. It’s been awesome, even if it doesn’t really matter.”

“Just so you know,” Leaf said, “I was cheering for you too.” She paused. “Losing sucks,” she added. “Losing will always suck, and if it doesn’t, that’s only because you really, really didn’t care about the competition in the first place. It sucks, and there’s nothing that I or anybody else can say to help with that. But I’m sorry.”

Rainbow smiled. “Thanks, Leaf. I appreciate that.”

Leaf glanced away. “Um, apart from that, there’s something else that I wanted to ask you?”

“Are you sure that everything’s fine with you?” Rainbow asked.

“Yeah, it’s not about me,” Leaf insisted. “I’ve got a new job, new apartment, new roommate who I like, even though she drives me crazy half the time — I’m even looking at getting back into motorcycling; I’ve found an indoor ring nearby that does amateur competitions.”

“Awesome, I might come and see you when I’m back in Atlas,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, that’d be great; you could bring Blake!” Leaf said. “And anyone else you liked; bring Penny!”

“Penny’s not coming back to Atlas,” Rainbow said. “She’s staying in Vale, at Beacon. She really liked it here.”

“Oh,” Leaf said. “Well, that’s good for her, I hope. You have to be bold and follow your dreams sometimes, or you’ll never get anywhere in life. I mean, look at me.” She smiled, although it didn’t last that long. “So, yeah, I’m good, but what I wanted to talk to you about was Weiss Schnee. You seemed … pretty friendly with her at the end of your match.”

“Well, we are friends,” Rainbow said. She had an inkling of an idea as to why Leaf was asking her about this, but she wanted Leaf to come out and say it herself; she wasn’t going to say it for Leaf.

Leaf frowned. “So … Weiss Schnee … she’s okay? She’s not … but her family—”

“It wasn’t her family; it was the company,” Rainbow said. “Not even Jacques Schnee knew what was going on, and Weiss certainly didn’t.” She paused. “Listen, can I tell you a secret?”

“You can tell me anything, sure.”

“Yeah, but this is a real secret; you can’t let on about this to anyone,” Rainbow insisted. “But Blake and I, and Penny, wouldn’t have found you without Weiss’ help.”

She couldn’t have explained in logical terms why she was telling this to Leaf, when she wasn’t willing to go public — when Weiss didn’t want them to go public with it, in fairness — to help Weiss’ image more generally, except that Leaf was a friend, and it didn’t feel right to leave one of her friends thinking ill of Weiss when she ought to have been thanking her. Was that a good enough reason? Maybe, maybe not, but she was going to do it anyway. She’d started now, after all; it would be a little bit late to back out of things at this point.

“When you called, we didn’t know where you were or how to find you, so we went to Weiss for help, and it was she who worked out where you were being held. From there, it was just a matter of showing up and shutting Calliope Ferny and her operation down.”

Leaf’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Rainbow said. “Weiss is owed as much thanks as any of us.”

“But…” Leaf murmured. “Why doesn’t everyone know this? Why is it a secret?”

“Because Jacques Schnee wouldn’t like it if he found out what Weiss had done,” Rainbow said. “And Weiss … okay, definitely keep this to yourself, or you might get sued even deeper into the ground than you already live, but Weiss … it doesn’t seem like she has the best home life. Let’s leave it at that, because I don’t have any details, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be right to share them around.”

“No, I get that,” Leaf said quietly. “But, with what you’re saying … Weiss would be a hero if people knew, and it would be a big help for the reputation of the family, so wouldn’t he be pleased? They wouldn’t be the bad guys anymore; they’d have helped to fix everything wrong with their company.”

Rainbow was quiet for a second. “I don’t know if Weiss has thought of that. Maybe she has. I’ll ask her about it. But the point is—”

“I already regret wishing that she’d lose every match she was in,” Leaf interrupted. “I would still have rooted for you over her, but now I’m rooting for her to win. But quietly, so Veil doesn’t find it suspicious.”

“I’m glad that we could straighten that out,” Rainbow said.

“Have a good day,” Leaf said. “If you can.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Rainbow assured her. “See you around, Leaf.”

She hung up and slipped her scroll back into her pocket.

I may not be able to help you with everyone’s opinion, Weiss, but I did help out with what one person thinks.

And, you know, you’re doing a pretty good job winning the rest of the crowd over on your own.

Rainbow soon finished her journey, crossing the promenade and nimbly mounting the stairs, two at a time, up to Cadance's box.

A box that was, as she saw when she made it up there, now so full of people that there weren't enough seats for those who were already there, let alone for her. Neon and Ciel were stood at the back, behind the chairs, along with Shining Armor and the rest of Cadance's security detail.

Those stood at the back were the first to see her as she came in.

"Tough break, Dash," Shining Armor said.

"You might have had more of a chance if it hadn't been for the White Fang," Neon growled. "They may not have killed anyone, but they did stuff our Vytal chances."

"Somehow, I doubt that will bring them any joy, should they learn of it," Ciel said softly.

The noise attracted the attention of the others sitting in front of them; they stood up and turned around to get a better look at her.

"Rainbow Dash," Twilight murmured, clasping her hands together in front of her. She tilted her head a little to one side and smiled a close-mouthed, sympathetic smile. "How … are you?"

"I wish I'd won, obviously," Rainbow admitted. Having admitted it to Leaf, there was less standing in the way of admitting it to others too. "But I can't get too upset about it. I'm just sorry that I couldn't make Atlas proud."

Scootaloo walked around the seats, her artificial legs tapping on the floor as she walked past the others to approach Rainbow Dash.

"I don't know if you've made Atlas proud or not," she said, "but you've made me proud."

She threw her arms around Rainbow's waist, pressing her face against Rainbow's front as she grabbed hold of her in an embrace.

Rainbow let out a breath, her body sagging a little — a little was all that it could manage with Scootaloo glommed onto her like this — as she put one hand the top of Scootaloo's head, rumpling her hair a little bit before her hand travelled down Scootaloo's back. "Thanks, kiddo."

"You've made us all proud, Sugarcube," Applejack said, touching the brim of her hat with one hand.

"You may not have gone all the way, but you did go further than all but two other people in the whole of four schools," Twilight pointed out. "That's pretty amazing."

"And you've still earned a 'You Reached the Semi-Finals' party!'" Pinkie cried. "Can we do that tonight, or—?"

"Uh, Pinkie," Twilight said quickly. "Tonight is the celebration of the end of the whole festival, remember? The fireworks, and the street parties, and I'm sure that Beacon will be putting on something official for everyone."

Well, they would if there might not be a grimm attack tonight, Rainbow thought. And if there isn't a grimm attack, then there probably will be a big celebration of some kind, just to stop everyone panicking, or just getting nervous imagining why we're not having fireworks and a big party.

"Oh, yeah, right," Pinkie said. "Okay, we'll have Rainbow's party when we get back to Atlas."

"That's probably for the best," Blake said softly. She looked at Rainbow. "I—"

"You don't need to say it," Rainbow assured her.

"Then I will say that, although the outcome is a pity, considering that you damaged your aura fighting alongside Blake against the White Fang, I'm glad that you made the sacrifice," Lady Belladonna declared.

Rainbow grinned. "Let's not call it a sacrifice, ma'am; it's not like I died." She paused. "Has, um, has Blake told you—?"

"Yes," Lady Belladonna said, not quite growling but with a bit of that creeping into her voice. "Yes, she has."

"Told us what?" Twilight asked. "Is this about—?"

"Later," Blake urged. "We'll talk about it later, after Pyrrha's match, when there's another break before the final."

You just don't want everyone to coo over you, so you're putting off telling them that there was an attempt on your life, Rainbow thought. Fair enough, I suppose.

Sun gestured to his seat. "You wanna sit down, Rainbow?"

"Nah, you stay where you are," Rainbow told him. "I'll be fine standing."

"Incidentally, darling," Rarity remarked. "How much damage did you do to Weiss Schnee's bolero?"

"You saw that?" Rainbow asked as Scootaloo released one of her arms around Rainbow Dash, and the two began to walk back towards Scootaloo's seat.

"We saw her take it off, then throw it down on the other side of the battlefield to that which she descended," Rarity said. "So it wasn't hard to guess that she used it as a distraction. And we heard the shots."

"I put a few bullet holes in it," Rainbow admitted. "But it was fine for her to wear afterwards; it wasn't ruined."

"Wearing it with bullet holes in, goodness," Rarity murmured, her face growing even paler than it was before. "Do you think that she would allow me to mend it for her, before the finals? You could vouch for my talents. It would be a terrible shame, after all, if she were to have to go out and represent herself and her school while wearing a bolero with—" — she shuddered theatrically — "bullet holes in it."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Rainbow said. "But how?"

"Do you have a sewin' kit stored away in Pinkie's hair, too?" asked Applejack.

"I don't think she does," Pinkie said as she reached into her immense hair and started to feel around inside with one hand.

"No, darling, of course I don't have a sewing kit in Pinkie's hair," Rarity replied, as though the idea was just plain ridiculous. "The sewing kit is strapped to my leg beneath my skirt."

---

"So that means Pyrrha's up next, right?" Chester said as he sat down on the arm of the settee, next to River.

"There are only two huntresses left, so yeah, it's Pyrrha up next," Dad replied.

"Oh dear," murmured Mom, clutching at the azure brooch she was wearing on her collar.

"Have some faith, Mom," Sky said, looking to where her mother sat on a chair next to Gold.

"We've all got faith in Pyrrha," Kendal said, without reminding Sky that some of them had had it earlier than others. "It's just that her opponent has those freaky eye powers. You saw what she did to her last opponent: froze her solid. How is Pyrrha supposed to deal with that?"

For her part, Kendal was very glad that this was only a tournament, a fight for fun and glory and bragging rights. The idea of Pyrrha being left completely at an opponent's mercy like that … it hardly bore thinking about.

"Okay, so she's got an impressive power," Sky began.

"They're called semblances," Mom pointed out.

"Thanks, Dad," Sky said. "She's got a semblance, but Pyrrha's never lost a fight, she's the Invincible Girl—"

"I remember when you didn't like her," Kendal said amusedly. "And now look at you, her biggest cheerleader in the family."

"I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong," Sky declared. "And I'm not ashamed that I'm passionate about things either. When I thought that Pyrrha was bad for Jaune and for this family, then I was passionate about that; when I realised that I was wrong, I became passionate about my new and correct views. I've got nothing to be ashamed of." She gestured with one hand to encompass her sisters. "Some of you should be ashamed that you're not as supportive as I am."

"We're all supportive; we're just not as obnoxious about it as you are," River said.

"Let's stay on topic, ladies," Rouge commanded. "The topic being how Pyrrha can possibly win this when all her opponent has to do is take her sunglasses off."

"It will not be that simple," Sky insisted. "Pyrrha will have a way around that; she'll have seen something like this before."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Gold murmured. "Semblances like that are pretty rare."

"Maybe she can use a mirror," Vi said quietly.

Everyone looked at her. Violet was sitting on the floor at the foot of the settee, a book open in front of her, giving the impression — the almost certainly false impression, in Kendal's view — that she wasn't paying as much attention to the tournament as the rest of the family.

"Say again, Vi," Kendal prompted.

"And explain a little more," Sky added.

"Umber's powers are like a basilisk, or a cockatrice, right?" Violet said, putting her book down.

"A what or a what?" Sky said.

"Am I the only person who has any interest in myths or legends?" Violet asked.

"Yes," Sky said. "Because we have lives."

Violet rolled her eyes. "If you're going to be like that, I won't bother to tell you."

"Come on, Vi, don't be like that," Kendal urged. "Sky's sorry, aren't you, Sky?"

"I was only—"

"Aren't you, Sky?" Rouge asked heavily.

Sky huffed. "I'm very sorry, Vi, please tell us about … those things."

"They're kinds of grimm," Gold said. "Very rare, I never met anyone who'd ever seen one."

"Then where did the stories come from?" Aoko asked mildly.

"The grimm are named for mythical creatures," Violet said. "The cockatrice is Valish, the basilisk is Mistralian; they're both snake-hybrid creatures with a lot of similarities, including that they can kill someone by looking into their eyes. In one story, a basilisk was killed by someone holding up a mirror so that it looked into its own eyes and was struck dead by its own gaze."

"So you're saying that if Pyrrha held up a mirror then Umber would be hit by her own semblance and frozen stiff?" Sky asked. "That … is Pyrrha allowed to take a mirror in with her?"

"I really don't know," Gold said, a smile playing about his face. "It's not a question that came up when I competed in this tournament. Or ever, probably."

"The issue with that is that Pyrrha would have to lower the mirror at some point to actually finish off her opponent," Rouge pointed out. "It's a good thought, Vi, but I'm not sure how practical. But, nevertheless, I'm sure that Pyrrha will think of something. I hope she'll think of something."

---

"Pyrrha next," Terra said.

Saphron murmured in wordless acknowledgement; her brow was furrowed, her eyes were fixed upon the television.

Terra got down off the sofa, kneeling on the floor as she scooped Adrian up into her arms, bouncing him gently up and down. "You're worried, huh?"

Saphron glanced her way. "Well … you saw what that Umber girl did to Yang Xiao Long."

"Yes," Terra allowed. "But she tipped her hand in doing so. She showed what she was capable of. That means Pyrrha isn't going in there blind; she knows what she's up against. I'm sure that she and Jaune have a plan to deal with it."

"You think so?"

"Yes," Terra said. "Yes, I do."

Saphron paused for a moment. "Like what?"

Terra hesitated. "I don't know," she admitted. "But then, I'm not a huntress; they are, and that means they're trained to come up with answers in situations like these. At least, I think it does."

---

"Are your accommodations to your liking, Professor?" Camilla asked, as she stood in the doorway.

Before her was one of the guest bedrooms of the House of Rutulus. There were not so many now as there had once been; some of them had been converted to other things, like storerooms, as guests in this house were not as numerous as they once had been. But there were still some occasional guests, those who travelled from far afield to see Turnus either for business or pleasure, and hence, there were guest bedrooms for them.

All the rooms were mild and inoffensive in their decoration, very much influenced by the minimalist style that was in vogue in Atlas, or at least had been when Turnus had been there. The walls were white and, thus, could be very bright when the light reflected off them, and nearly empty, with only a bed, a single small bedside table, and a slightly larger — but by no means large — desk sat beside the door, with a plain wooden chair to sit on. It was hardly rich Mistralian hospitality, but guests did not have to remain in this room if they did not wish to do so. Camilla couldn't see why they would want to do so; this was a room for sleeping in, little more.

Although if the current occupant wished to remain here, out of her sight, she would have no objections to him doing so.

Lionheart was even now unpacking; judging by the number of bags he had brought with him, this room would not remain sparse and minimal for very long; Camilla could already see stacks of books forming on the floor.

It occurred to her that perhaps a row of shelves along the wall would not disturb the style too much.

She dismissed the thought. That was not why she was here.

She turned her attention away from Lionheart's belongings onto the professor himself, who was currently bent down on the floor as he unpacked another of his bags. He was turned somewhat away from her, so that she could not see his face, but her voice turned her towards him.

"Yes, my dear, it's all quite satisfactory. A bed to sleep in and a roof over my head will do me just fine." He chuckled. "Although I daresay I could still make do with less than that, if I had to. I am still a huntsman, after all." He laughed again, although to Camilla's ears, it did not sound a very convincing laugh.

"I am glad," she murmured. "As our guest, your comfort and wellbeing is one of our concerns."

"But not your highest concern?" Lionheart asked, in a tone that might have been intended to be playful.

"For myself, Professor, my highest concerns are the good of my lord and lady Juturna," Camilla said.

"Of course," Lionheart said. "Of course. In earlier days, your fidelity, Miss Volsci, would have become proverbial. As faithful as Camilla, they would have said."

His chuckle was only small and slight this time, but Camilla was beginning to grow weary of it nonetheless.

In so short a season had she already begun to weary of Lionheart's presence? Or wary of it, at the least. Turnus had decided to indulge Juturna in this, believing that there was more to be gained from the professor's presence than there was to be risked by it, and as he was her lord and she but his faithful retainer, she would abide by that decision and obey him in all things, and yet, in her heart, Camilla was troubled by it. She did not want him here, in this house, with these people.

The world could be a cruel place, Camilla had learnt that at an early age; the world was a place where her parents had perished before she could form many memories of them, where she had been caged for transport and for sale; where a good man could be torn down by the hands of his enemies and the bullets of those he thought his friends; where criminals could run riot, their power unchecked. The world could be a cruel place, but this house was a sanctuary in the midst of that cruelty. This house was a place of warmth and comfort and safety, a place of light against the shadows lengthening beyond the walls; a place of love.

These people who dwelt within this house, they were … they were the products of that sanctuary. They had suffered losses — the death of the old lord, the loss of the Agylla family wealth and title and status — but the name of Rutulus, the history of this illustrious family, the wealth and title to which Turnus was heir, this very house itself all had cushioned them from those losses, kept them … they did not know, they did not comprehend within their hearts, how cruel the world outside this house could be.

Yet now, both this house, this sanctuary, and those who sheltered within were both threatened. Camilla feared the shadows without might intrude upon the light.

For a shadow had been invited in.

"I do wonder, Professor," she said, putting one hand upon the door frame, "how such a man as you present yourself ever got into such trouble as you are apparently in."

Lionheart paused, silent, for a moment or two. "I … I'm not sure what you mean, my dear."

"I would prefer that you address me as Miss Volsci, if it is no trouble to," Camilla said, her voice sharpening like the sword thrust into her sash.

Lionheart climbed ponderously to his feet, grunting as he did so, momentarily clasping at his own knees as though they pained him. His lion tail hung limply down behind him as he finally straightened up. He was a tall man, and broad-shouldered, but Camilla was not afeared of large men; she had fought larger and stronger-seeming, and in any case, for all his size, Lionheart seemed … lacking in stature.

Although that might be as false as much else about him.

"Miss Volsci," he said, dry-washing his hands. "Do you … find my being here somehow disagreeable?"

"My lord has welcomed you into his home; it is not for me to question his decision," Camilla said calmly. "But I cannot help but note that the jovial headmaster you appear to be, the inoffensive fellow who bears slight and insults like an ass bears burdens, seems unlikely to have earned the ire of such men that they would see trained killers on his trail. Perhaps you have lied about your peril to Juturna—"

"Why would I do such a thing?" Lionheart asked, keeping his tone mild. "Why would I voluntarily choose flight, and to hide here?"

"Perhaps because you are more than meets the eye," Camilla suggested. The old lord, she was sure, would have seen through Professor Lionheart and into the heart of his mystery; she, alas, was not so perceptive, but she saw enough to perceive that there was an opaqueness about him that Turnus did not comprehend.

Lionheart took a step back. He kept on dry-washing his hands, rubbing them together over and over. "I … you have a suspicious nature, Miss Volsci. Are all guests in the House of Rutulus received with such hostility?"

You have not begun to see the hostility that I am capable of, Camilla thought, but did not say because she felt as though crossing the border into outright rudeness might serve Lionheart better than it served her.

"Perhaps," Lionheart went on, "if Lord Rutulus were to hear—"

"Do not speak to me of Lord Rutulus, sir," Camilla said, and now, her voice grew claws because Lionheart had crossed a line. He threatened her? He threatened her? In this house — in her house — he dared to suggest that she might be undone by words? "I have known Lord Rutulus since he was a boy, and since he was a man I have been his right hand in battle. I cradled Lady Juturna in my arms, and we wept together to learn of the old lord's death. Do not test my place in this house and in my lord's affections; it is not a battle you will win. Nor would your affable, bumbling exterior ever venture upon such ground."

"I don't know what you mean!" Lionheart cried. "I meant nothing by it, nothing at all, you … you really do have a suspicious nature if you think that I was threatening you, my— ahem, Miss Volsci, forgive me. I suppose I … maybe I meant to shame you a little, please forgive me." He half-bowed to her, cringing before her face. "Please, Miss Volsci, I am at the service of House Rutulus, and I am at your service too, indebted as I am to you for my sanctuary here. Please, what can I do to show you how grateful I am?"

You can go back where you came from and take your peril with you, if you are in peril, Camilla thought. But that was not her decision to make. So what she said was, "You may remember for me three things. The first is that I love this family dearly; I prize it above all else, certainly above my own life. The second is that Big Boss once thought himself the master of this city and mocked the idea that I might bring him down, but I stuck his head on a spike outside the palace and waved my hand before his sightless eyes. And the third, and last, thing I would bid you remember is that I am watching you." She paused less than a moment. "I am glad that the room is to your satisfaction. I will leave you now to settle in here." She curtsied. "Good day, Professor."

She started to back away, keeping her eyes upon Professor Lionheart as she went, retreating down the corridor with her eyes fixed upon him until he shut the door in her face.

He might look for cameras hidden in the room; he might even find the decoy that she had put under the desk when Turnus had told her that he was coming; she doubted he would find the real camera that she had hidden in the apparent mousehole in the skirting board.

Nobody knew about it; she rather thought that Turnus might have disapproved if he had known; the video went only to her scroll. If he was up to something, then she would know about it.

Camilla turned around, only to find Turnus emerging from around the corner.

"You don't approve of my decision, do you?" he asked, folding his arms.

Camilla licked her lips. However much he had heard, she had much rather that he had heard none of it. "It … it is not my place to—"

"Yet I would hear your opinion," Turnus told her.

Camilla nodded. "Very well, if you would hear my opinion, then … it is my opinion that he is a villain, and I do not like his being here." She hesitated. "How much did you—?"

"Most of it, I think," Turnus said. He folded his arms. "I confess, I didn't like the way that he threatened you either."

Camilla could not quite prevent the slightest smile from tugging at the corners of her lips. "Then you, too, believe it was a threat?"

"I think it was intended as one," Turnus said. "That he would go tattling to me about you, claiming that you had threatened him, insulted him. Rather pathetic, if you ask me; stand up for yourself, man." He smiled. "You were quite right; it would have done him no good at all. I confess … it makes me a poor host, no doubt, but it was entertaining listening to you make him squirm."

"Did you hear what I said about his story making no sense with the man he is?" Camilla asked.

"I did," Turnus replied. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps he does have hidden depths to him."

"Yet you will have him here nonetheless?" Camilla asked.

"Juturna wants him here," Turnus said. "Gods know why, but she does, and I'm not minded to oppose her. I think she's right to say that I may gain advantage from his presence."

"But what of the danger?" Camilla asked.

"Danger from Lionheart's enemies?" Turnus asked. "Or from himself?"

"Either," Camilla said.

"I'm sure that we can protect ourselves against a few thugs, even if they do have murderous intent, even if they are huntsmen," Turnus said. "They cannot be all that good as huntsmen, or they wouldn't be doing such work. And as for Lionheart, Faintheart would be a more fitting name for him, don't you think? His hidden depths would have to be deep indeed if they are hiding the sort of malice or competence that could threaten us here. Lionheart doesn't frighten me."

Because you have grown up in a sanctuary and scarcely know what it is to be afraid, Camilla thought. "You have a bold heart," she murmured. "It is the glory of your spirit, and yet, I would have you remember that bold spirits may be undone when they present their backs to little men with knives."

"Then I am fortunate," Turnus said, "in having you to guard my back from little men, and big ones also."

Camilla felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Always."

Turnus smiled at her, and set her heart afluttering in the process, such a smile was it. “Will you come and watch this next match with us? Pyrrha is fighting a Shade student with a very powerful semblance."

"Powerful in what way?" asked Camilla.

"She freezes people with her gaze," Turnus explained.

"Indeed?" Camilla murmured. "That sounds a rare challenge for Pyrrha Nikos."

---

"All the hopes of Mistral now rest on Lady Pyrrha," Lord Wong declared. "Or else our years of hurt, as the song would have it, will extend yet further."

"Indeed, my lord," Lady Nikos replied.

She did not say, because it was no doubt obvious to Lord and Lady Wong, that she was not displeased that all the hopes of Mistral now rested upon the shoulders of her daughter; indeed, that was where she had always hoped that they would come to rest. Some might have wished for a final between Pyrrha and Arslan Altan, but Lady Nikos was glad that, when the final battle between Pyrrha and Weiss Schnee began, no one in Mistral would be in any doubt as to where their loyalties lay.

"The Schnee heiress is not without skill," Lady Wong murmured. "And not without a powerful semblance either, but I confess I am more worried about this Umber Gorgoneion … do you think that she could be of the Kisthenian Gorgoneions?"

"Why would a Mistralian, daughter of a noble line, attend Shade Academy?" Lady Nikos asked, infusing the name of Shade with a degree of sneering patrician hauteur that she would not have inflicted upon any other academy in Remnant.

"I know not," Lady Wong admitted. "And I admit that I have not heard of a third daughter of that family, but Gorgoneion is not a common name in Mistral; it cannot be common in Vacuo, surely?"

"Whether she is or is not technically a Mistralian, she is neither a Haven student nor well known to the public as a daughter of Mistral as Lady Pyrrha is," Lord Wong said. "She cannot serve as the focus of our hopes and expectations."

"I should hope not," Lady Nikos sniffed.

"But that semblance of hers…" Lady Wong murmured. "It is concerning, no?"

Lady Nikos did not reply immediately. She needed some little time to consider her response. The truth was that Umber Gorgoneion — whether she was of the Gorgoneion family or not — did possess a very formidable semblance; so formidable, in fact, that Lady Nikos felt that she probably owed Yang Xiao Long some sort of gift to thank her for exposing said semblance before it had come Pyrrha's turn to face it. An expensive hamper, perhaps, or maybe she should ask Miss Xiao Long what she wanted — within reason.

For if Miss Gorgoneion's semblance had remained concealed until now, and Pyrrha had marched out to face it unaware…

It was concerning. Most semblances gave advantages to those who owned the semblance, but they did not render their wielder invincible. Despite her epithet, not even Pyrrha's semblance did that; it could be negated by the simple act of wielding weapons made out of other than metal, or by — like Arslan Altan — fighting barehanded. Vespa's sting, Metella's hydrokinesis, Hector's barrier, they all gave advantage without guaranteeing victory. But Miss Gorgoneion's gaze, that was a semblance of a different sort. It was the sort of semblance which, in its power, recalled some of the old tales, in which the gods would gift their favourites with staggering abilities — and then cursed them for some insult, such as by making their great gift a passive one.

The fact that Miss Gorgoneion might consider it a curse was of little consolation to anyone on whom she used it.

How was it to be resisted? What could Pyrrha do to avoid being caught in that petrifying gaze?

"I am not in the least bit concerned, my lady," Lady Nikos declared, adopting an air of absolute — and absolutely unruffled — confidence. "My Pyrrha is the pride of Mistral, after all, and in all her tournaments, she has never lost a battle. She will not fall now, at the penultimate step, to some Vacuan, or even to an exile self-banished to Vacuo from our own land. She will have some means of overcoming this obstacle, I have no doubt."

Yet she was glad that neither Lord nor Lady Wong pressed her upon what that means might be.

---

“Poor Rainbow Dash,” Pyrrha murmured. “I hope, I am sure, that Blake and her other friends will offer some consolation in this difficult time.”

“If it is difficult,” Jaune said. “It didn’t seem that difficult, the way she was acting with Weiss.”

“She was being a good sport,” Pyrrha said, “but I think Rainbow is too competitive not to feel the sting of loss at all.”

“I guess so,” Jaune said softly. “So … now you’re up.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Now, it will be my turn.”

“And you’ll be up against Umber,” Penny said. “What are you going to do about her semblance?”

Pyrrha did not reply, mostly because there was no good and easy answer that she could give to that question. What was she going to do about Umber’s semblance? What was she going to do about the fact that, at any moment, even if not at the very beginning of the match, Umber Gorgoneion might freeze her in place and then eject her from the arena at her leisure?

They had discussed possible countermeasures, possible rules for Umber’s semblance, but they had been guesswork, fumbling blindly in the dark, with no clue as to whether any of their notions would work or not. Sunglasses? Blinding oneself? Yes, Umber wore sunglasses, and that seemed to stop her semblance from working, but it only seemed to be so. Yes, the idea that Umber’s semblance was a passive one — as strange as it sounded to speak of a passive semblance that nevertheless had active effects — was consistent with the way that her family had shut her up and acted almost as though she didn’t exist, but there could be other reasons for that. Pyrrha wasn’t sure what those reasons could be, but the point was that Umber might be able to turn her semblance on and off at will and merely wore the sunglasses to conceal that fact.

But she was concealing her semblance perfectly well up until now, so why bother with the elaborate deception that she might never have had to reveal?

Of course, even if Umber’s sunglasses did block her semblance, it was no guarantee that anyone else wearing sunglasses would negate its use on them in turn. It might only work one way and would not help Pyrrha at all. Blinding herself, if she could sustain it, seemed like a better approach, although there was no guarantee that that would work either, but if it did work, if it was not the case that Umber’s semblance affected everything that Umber could see with her own unobstructed gaze, then there was still the difficulty of how to fight while blind. Pyrrha had trained to see her enemies; her ability to sense them using her aura was … not the best. It was one of her weaknesses. One that Chiron had told her was ultimately unimportant for the life she was destined to lead.

Master, it appears you may have been incorrect about that.

As far as Pyrrha could tell, there was no simple answer to her problem; there was no one thing that she could do that would single-handedly negate the advantage that Umber’s semblance gave her.

I wonder if this is how some of my opponents felt when they prepared to face me: this trepidation, with no obvious answer ahead.

I suppose I should appreciate the irony of it.

“And now,” Professor Port said, “we are ready for our second semifinal, and there’s no need to select the contestants because there are only two of them left! Whoever wins this match will go on to face Weiss Schnee of Beacon in the final of this, the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament! Can Pyrrha Nikos and Umber Gorgoneion please make their way out onto the battlefield?”

Jaune sucked in a breath. He put one hand upon her arm.

“What are you going to do?” asked Penny.

Pyrrha, in turn, placed her free hand over Jaune’s, and squeezed it gently before she — with equal gentleness — lifted it away. “What I will not do,” she said, getting to her feet, “is delay.”

If this is to be my first defeat in the arena, then I will face it with the same courage that so many of my rivals displayed against me.

“Lady Pyrrha?” Umber’s voice rang out across the stands. “It seems our time has come.”

Pyrrha turned around to find Umber in the stands, she alone of her teammates standing up.

“You sound as though you have been looking forward to this, Lady Umber.”

Umber bared her teeth. “I am no lady, I am no Mistralian noble scion, I…” She took a deep breath. “It is because I am no lady that I confess I have been looking forward to this.”

Because I am a symbol of a system that you scorn? Pyrrha wondered. I will not say you have no cause to scorn it, but as with Cinder, it seems to be my fate, if I may be permitted a degree of self-pity on the subject, to draw the ire of those who see me only as a proxy for their grievances against Mistral.

So heavy is the burden of the Nikos name, she added to herself sarcastically.

“Miss Gorgoneion?” Medea Helios asked, bustling down the row of seats in front of Umber and her teammates, her robes flapping around her pale arms as she waved one hand to catch Umber’s attention. She was wearing sunglasses, Pyrrha noticed, although her hood cast her face in shadow well enough without. “Miss Umber? May I speak with you a moment, before the match begins?”

“About what?” Umber demanded.

“About … I feel as though we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Medea said. “I chose my words poorly and made a poor impression on you as a result. Yet I would be friends with you and know you better?”

“Why?” Umber asked. “Because you think that I may become Vytal Champion? I have no need of fawning Mistralian flatterers; I have true friends enough on whom I can rely.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” Medea said unctuously. “But one can never have too many friends, can one? One never knows who will be best placed to help one out in a jam.”

One hand reached out, as swift as a serpent sinking its fangs into the unsuspecting foot of its opponent, and snatched the sunglasses from off of Umber’s face.

Umber was not looking at Pyrrha, and so Pyrrha was free to observe as Medea — wearing sunglasses — suddenly went stiff and rigid, frozen in place just like Yang had been, utterly petrified by Umber’s semblance.

There was a moment of stillness, a moment in which Umber seemed to be as frozen as Medea was — frozen by shock at what Medea had done.

Then Umber let out a snarl of anger, and it was her turn for her hand to lash out, grabbing Medea by the throat and lifting her up off the ground.

The other members of Team JAMM were on their feet at once. Jason and Meleager drew their swords, while Atalanta nocked an arrow to her bowstring.

“Put her down!” Jason demanded.

Umber ignored him while the other members of Team UMBR rose to their feet, hands reaching for their weapons.

Other Haven students — Neptune and the rest of Team SSSN, Arslan and Team ABRN, Team BALL — began to rise warily.

“Umber!” Pyrrha cried out. “That is enough. Let her go.”

Umber growled like an angry dog, a guttural sound tearing its way out of her throat preceding any words. “Because you command it so, Lady Pyrrha?”

“Because if you wish to fight me out in the arena, it might not be a good idea to start a fight here in the stands,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Umber snarled in frustration as she grabbed her sunglasses back from Medea’s frozen hand. She let Medea go as she put her own sunglasses back on, letting the Haven student crash to the floor with a thump.

Umber took a deep breath, and then another. “How fortunate you are, Pyrrha Nikos, to have so many minions ready to scurry about running errands for you, like trying to find out if wearing sunglasses would counter my semblance.” She managed to smirk. “No such luck, I’m afraid.” She paused, taking another deep breath in and out. “I will await your coming.”

She stalked out, her long black coat flapping around her, her boot slamming down hard upon the floor and on the stairs that she descended.

Medea scrambled out of reach of the remaining members of Team UMBR. She coughed, and despite her aura, she had a hand at her own throat as she retreated towards the safety of her own teammates. “I regret,” she said, “that it appears that wearing sunglasses will not protect you, Lady Pyrrha.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, it would appear not. Nevertheless, Lady Medea, you have my thanks.”

I suppose I could always surprise her with my own semblance — pick her up by her armour and throw her out of the arena before she has a chance to use her semblance on me.

That would be ironic for her, but — although undoubtedly effective on my part — it would be rather unsporting.

But perhaps…

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “Will you come with me? I need your help with something before I enter the arena.”

"Yeah, sure," Jaune said, though he looked a little puzzled as to why, or at least as to what this had to do with her countering Umber's semblance. Nonetheless, he got up and made ready to follow her.

"Good luck," Penny said with an encouraging smile.

"Good fortune, Lady Pyrrha," Medea called to her across the stands. "You bear the standard for Mistral now, so bear it well against…" — she shot a dirty glance at the remaining members of Team UMBR — "Barbarians."

"We're relying on you now, Pyrrha," Arslan said.

Pyrrha did not reply. She hoped to show that she had taken their words to heart via her actions. She took a deep breath and began to walk towards the exit, towards that would lead by turns down to the arena. Jaune followed.

Yang, Ren, and Nora were sitting not far from that same entrance, and as they drew near, Yang raised one hand to accost Pyrrha.

"Hey, Pyrrha," she said. "You've got a plan for this, right? A plan for her?"

"I … have an idea, yes," Pyrrha replied. She wasn't certain that it quite rose to the level of a plan.

"That's … better than nothing, I guess," Yang said. "Because, you know, I'd kinda like to be avenged."

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I will endeavour to oblige you."

Yang grinned. "Knock her dead," she said, "and make this an all-Beacon final."

"No pressure, then," Jaune murmured.

"It's not like you didn't know the pressure was there already, right?" asked Yang.

"Indeed," Pyrrha said, for a tournament without pressure would be scarce worthy of the name.

She left Yang, reaching the stairs and descending into the gloom. There was no sign of Umber. There was no sign of anyone but her and Jaune as they walked quietly down the corridor until they came almost to the mouth of the tunnel, where the afternoon light — a little dimmer than it had been, but the sun was not yet set; merely a certain autumnal greyness was intruding to make the shadows longer — crept into the corridor from without.

"So, how can I help?" Jaune asked. "Do you want me to boost your aura before you go out there?"

"No, no," Pyrrha replied. "That would be unfair on anyone who didn't have you as their boyfriend, or even as their teammate. No, I was hoping I could borrow your sash."

"My sash?" Jaune repeated, looking down at the red sash, a little smaller than hers, that he wore around his waist. "But … why?"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to tie it around my eyes as a blindfold," Pyrrha explained. "My hope is that if I can't see Umber at all, then her semblance won't have any effect on me."

Jaune frowned. "Even after what happened with Medea?"

"Medea could still see Umber," Pyrrha pointed out. "I will be blinded."

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah you will, so even if you're right, and you're safe from her semblance … how are you gonna fight someone you can't see? Can't see and can't even hear very well, either." He paused. "You know what, there isn't much time; do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, albeit without perfect confidence. "I believe so."

"Then you don't need to explain it to me. Here, I'll be as quick as I can." He began to unbuckle his belt.

"Thank you for not asking why I don't use my own sash," Pyrrha said.

Jaune's smile was bright in the dim light of the corridor. "I get it. You want to wear your whole outfit for this, and it … well, it wouldn't look quite right without the sash."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Thank you for being so understanding."

Jaune finished taking off his belt; it clattered to the ground as he untied the sash he wore beneath it. Pyrrha watched as he unbound it, her eyes lingering over every movement of Jaune’s hands and arms, until the sash — shorter than her own, in a possibly more practical reason for wanting to borrow his rather than use her own as a blindfold — hung in one hand, his fingers clasped around it.

“I … guess you should turn around,” Jaune said. “Yeah, yeah, you should absolutely turn around; it will be much easier for me to tie it around your eyes. Unless … you want to do that yourself?”

“I think it would be easier if you did it,” Pyrrha said, turning around and closing her eyes, for all that it might seem redundant to do so. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Jaune let out a little amused snort. “Not at all. Kind of reminds me of playing blind man’s bluff with my sisters. Of course, I always had to be the one blindfolded.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah,” Jaune said as he pulled the sash over Pyrrha’s head and around her eyes. It felt warm and soft upon her skin, and it smelled a little of him. Pyrrha was plunged into darkness; even when she tried to open her eyes, she saw nothing but a very dim red light, heavily filtered through the cloth of her new blindfold. She closed her eyes again and was plunged into utter darkness.

“I think they just liked watching me blunder around the house trying to feel them,” Jaune went on.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Having met your sisters, I’m not sure I can believe that of all of them.”

Jaune laughed. “Well, it wasn’t all of them; mostly, it was River, Sky, and Kendal. And when Vi got older—”

“So it wasn’t just you that had to be blindfolded?”

“It was a long wait to not be the baby of the family but also for the baby to be old enough to play with,” Jaune said defensively. “But … I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have any fun, even blindfolded.” He paused. “Speaking of blundering around, how are you going to—?”

“I will use Miló, until I reach the centre of the arena,” Pyrrha said. It was her turn to hesitate. “But, speaking of blind man’s bluff, would you be so kind as to turn me so that I’m facing out of the tunnel?”

She felt Jaune’s hands upon her arms, just below her shoulders, above her honour band on her left arm; she felt his fingertips upon her skin as Pyrrha allowed herself to be moved by him, her feet following at his urging, turning less than she might have expected, but as much as, with a little thought, she probably ought to have turned.

“I’m relying on you not to let me walk into a wall,” Pyrrha said.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“No,” Pyrrha whispered. “I know you wouldn’t.”

She heard — just about; already, the noise of the crowd was loud and growing louder — a footstep. “You’re all set,” Jaune said.

It seemed to Pyrrha that his voice came from in front of her, but she thought that she must be hearing wrong and stepped forward regardless.

She had gone less than a step before she collided with Jaune.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha cried, but not without a touch of laughter in her voice.

Once more, she felt his hands upon her arms, and she felt as though she could see in her mind’s eye the charming smile he wore upon his face. “I said I wouldn’t let you walk into a wall; I didn’t say anything about myself,” he said.

She felt his lips brush against hers and wished that it were not so brief.

She felt his hands leave her arms, felt a brush of something against one hand, and when she heard Jaune’s voice again, it seemed to come from behind her. “Now you’re good.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

She stepped out. With her eyes covered and closed, she couldn’t tell if she had left the tunnel — there was no increase in the amount of light reaching her eyes; it was like wearing a well-fitted sleep mask — save by the sudden increase in the volume of the cheering, which she took to mean that she could now be seen.

“And here is our second contestant … blindfolded?” Professor Port asked.

No doubt, there were others who found it as strange as Professor Port, but they did not make their confusion known; at least, Pyrrha could not hear it. All she could hear was the cheering, and the singing of that song. Their acclaim fell on her once more, as it had in the fight against Arslan, like autumn leaves descending from the trees.

If it is my fate to mount the steps, then this will work, and my road will carry me through Umber Gorgoneion.

To whatever else may lie beyond.

Pyrrha drew her weapons, although it was not exactly customary to do so before the countdown had begun; nevertheless, she had need of them now. With the aid of her semblance, she felt Akoúo̱ slam into place upon her vambrace, and her fingers closed around Miló in spear form.

She teased Miló out until she felt the tip touch the surface in front of her, using it like a blind man with his cane to feel the surface in front of her as she walked forward, striding as confidently as she hoped she would have in any other circumstance, merely using her spear to feel in front of her. She was not afraid of tripping; rather, she wished to feel for the metal struts in the arena floor that, in the previous rounds, had been swallowed up by the terrain when it had risen.

And she wished to feel for the slight crack between the central hexagon and the rest of the arena around it.

The crack that she felt now.

She was, she thought, she hoped, in the right place.

She took two steps forward, using Miló to feel in front and behind her; the surface before felt smooth and even, without any hint of the metal struts.

“You’re in the right place,” Umber said sharply.

Pyrrha paused. “Would it offend you if I didn’t take your word for it?”

“I don’t want to humiliate you; I want to defeat you,” Umber said. “But I suppose I can’t blame you.”

Pyrrha knelt down and brushed the fingertips of her left hand across the surface. It certainly felt like the central hexagon.

“So, you’ve blinded yourself to avoid my semblance,” Umber said, her voice seeming to come from somewhere in front of Pyrrha, as she would expect. “That … well, there’s not much point in me pretending that won’t work, but you seem to be forgetting that my semblance isn’t all I’ve got.”

Pyrrha got to her feet. Time to see if this works or if I am about to be humiliated. “Believe me, I am well aware of all you have.” She turned her left arm so that the surface of Akoúo̱ was facing towards Umber, concealing — or hopefully concealing — her hand from view.

Concealing the hint of a black outline around her hand which, though Pyrrha could not see it, should be showing right now as Pyrrha activated her semblance.

Umber Gorgoneion was wearing a coat of scales, and her whips had metal heads. Pyrrha did not want to simply eject Umber from the arena using them, but if she could sense them, if she could feel them … Pyrrha used her semblance as she had used her spear just a moment ago, fumbling, groping. It was an unusual use for it, but she had used her semblance on weapons that were moving swiftly, moving more swiftly than her eye could follow, so she was not a complete stranger to the notion.

The battlefield on which they fought was flat and featureless; so long as she could tell where Umber was, then she need not fear anything else. So long as she could— there! She felt something; she felt metal, and not the metal of the floor on which she stood either, although that did make things a little complicated. But there, rising above the surface, there was Umber. Who else could it be? Pyrrha could feel the metal, feel the scales, feel the whip heads.

She hoped that she been so gentle that Umber had felt nothing in her turn.

So long as she could feel where Umber was, then her metal would guide Pyrrha to her.

The rest would be fortune, and Miló.

Umber was silent a moment, and if it hadn’t been for her semblance and its sense of her, Pyrrha would have had no idea whether or not Umber was still there or not.

"It is a pity," Umber said, "that I had to use my semblance on Yang Xiao Long; I had hoped to spring it on you as a surprise."

"I hope you don't mind that I take that as a compliment," Pyrrha said.

Umber laughed, a loud cackle that cut through the cheering and the singing of the crowd. "That is exactly how you ought to take it. I despise Mistralian pretensions; I despise the vanity of the Mistralian people, our— their lords and ladies especially, to strut and fret so, to posture and to pose, even as Mistral sinks ever deeper into irrelevance."

"I fear that, even if we are not a peacock people, then we are at the very least something of a peacock class," Pyrrha acknowledged. "But at the same time, I think that you do Mistral wrong to talk of sinking. I find my home is yet a very fair city in a fair land; is there more required than that?"

"Not if you really believe it," Umber replied. "But so many talk with such gloomy voices about Mistral's decline and all the while do nothing to arrest that same decline, or else push for more of the same that cause the decline in the first place! So many in Mistral will tell you that the house is on fire, and yet, they do nothing but jostle for advantage amidst the flames, fighting to be the last to suffocate on smoke. In Vacuo … in Vacuo, there are such troubles as would turn your lovely hair white with the stress of it all, but thank the gods there are also those with the good heart and courage and vision to do something about it! Vacuo will rise again, and I will see its glory renewed; who has any hope to say the same of Mistral?"

She paused. "Of course, we Vacuans are also capable of our own pretensions, of talking a lot of consolatory tripe about how a hard land has made a hard people in vain attempt to make a virtue of our straitened circumstances. And so, in the spirit of cutting through pretension, I will concede that your pretensions are backed up by some skill. That was why I would have preferred to catch you out with my semblance. As it is … thank you for cooking yourself for me in a different fashion."

Pyrrha did not reply. She would speak with Miló soon enough, she hoped.

"Well, ahem," Professor Port said. "I can't say that this is something that I've ever seen in the Vytal Tournament before."

"But there is no rule against it," Doctor Oobleck added, "and after Miss Gorgoneion's performance against Miss Xiao Long, I can't say that it isn't an understandable move by Pyrrha Nikos."

"Understandable, perhaps," Professor Port replied. "But will it prove to be well-advised?"

"That's what we'll find out," Doctor Oobleck said.

Pyrrha did not see the rest of the arena around her retract, but she did feel the central hexagon on which she and Umber stood descending; she felt herself being lowered into the pit, just as she felt her descent come to a smooth stop.

From what she could feel with her semblance, Umber's position did not change relative to her own.

"Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!" Professor Port bellowed.

"The day of the hare has come again!" Umber cried.

"Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!" Professor Port cried.

The crowd erupted in cheers with renewed vigour, cheering so loudly that if Pyrrha had been relying on noise to hear Umber's location and movements, she would have been well and truly sunk.

"Three!" Professor Port declared, his voice rising above the tumult of the crowd in the stands.

Pyrrha settled into a fighting stance, legs bent, shield up before her, spear drawn back for an overarm thrust. She wondered if Umber found it strange that Pyrrha was facing straight towards her.

"Two! One! FIGHT!"

Pyrrha charged forwards, straight at where she sensed or felt Umber to be, guided by the metal of her coat of scales. She could not see her opponent, nor could she make her out as more than a central mass and a galaxy of small points of metal that Pyrrha took to be the heads of her whips, but that was enough to guide Pyrrha as her legs pounded on the surface of the arena.

She felt Umber lash out at her with her whips, those small galaxies of metal objects suddenly speeding towards her. Pyrrha used a touch of her semblance — no more than a touch, or she would have lost her fingertip-grip on Umber's coat of scales — to guide them away from her, throwing them off on either side of her even as she pirouetted on her toe to give the impression that she was turning sideways and letting the whips fly past her. She spun, and as she spun, she threw Akoúo̱ at her opponent.

She did not throw it at her head, as was her wont when casting her shield before her, because she couldn't tell exactly where Umber's head was and didn't want to risk Akoúo̱ flying harmlessly over it. Instead, she aimed for what she thought was the centre of Umber's chest, the middle of the top half of the metal she could sense. As Pyrrha stopped spinning, she felt her sash briefly wrap itself around her waist and hips before it was disturbed by the renewed momentum of her charge as she rushed once more at Umber. She couldn't feel Akoúo̱, she wasn't trying to keep a grip on it — try to hold too much, and she might lose her grip on what mattered most — but she felt Umber's scalecoat reel backwards and felt a smile of satisfaction spring to her lips.

Before Umber could recover, Pyrrha was on her.

Miló spun in Pyrrha's hands; she didn't need to be able to see her weapon to be able to transfer it nimbly from hand to hand, to lash out with it at her metallic target. Slash with the point — contact! — follow with the shaft in one fluid motion — contact! — spin around, the crowd will love it, and jab your spear-shaft backwards — contact — now spin again and slash diagonally — contact! This was all second nature to her, the forms and drills that she had practised with Chiron until she could do them, well, do them blindfolded with her eyes closed.

She didn't know how much aura Umber had left — she had already been blindfolded before she could look at the lines on the board — but Yang had given her some hard knocks, to say the least, before Umber had secured the victory with her semblance. That much damage couldn't have regenerated so quickly. So long as Pyrrha could keep landing blows, it shouldn't take much to finish what Yang had started.

She thrust two-handed, straight ahead, extending her spear outward with the dust charge, and felt another contact with Miló's tip, even as she felt Umber reel back. She felt Umber come closer again. Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword, the crowd roaring so loud she could scarcely hear any trace of the metallic clanking sounds of the transformation. Up close, swift slashing strokes would—

Pyrrha felt something collide with her face with enough force to snap it backwards, her aura flaring in protest. Two more such blows followed, to one cheek, then the other, turning Pyrrha's face this way then that, before a hammerblow to her midriff sent Pyrrha skidding backwards, boots scraping on the surface until Pyrrha dropped to one knee to arrest her movement, throwing her free hand out to the ground.

Of course. I can't sense her fists — or her feet. That was the weakness of what Pyrrha was doing: she could tell where Umber was, but she couldn't tell what Umber was doing.

A pity she isn't wearing steel-toed boots.

I should have paid more attention to her whips; I should have noticed that she'd dropped them.

She's picked them up now, I think.

Pyrrha sprang away from the oncoming whips, landing on her hands — fingertips brushing the floor to make sure she wasn't launching herself off the platform — then backflipping onto her feet, hand reaching out to catch Miló before it fell.

She leapt away again — landing on one hand, then backflipping onto her feet — as Umber's whips lashed out at her again, even as Miló transformed from sword mode into rifle.

Pyrrha quickly raised Miló to her shoulder, aiming at Umber's armour. She fired once, twice, and then Umber was still able to fling her whips out at her, the cluster of metal heads lunging for her like a host of serpents, forcing Pyrrha to roll away, and upright, to snap off her third shot, then her fourth.

She felt the metal of the whip-heads drop. She sensed the central mass of Umber's scale armour moving towards her at speed. Umber was charging; she had had better luck hitting Pyrrha with hands and feet than with her whips, so why not?

Pyrrha fired her fifth and last shot; it staggered Umber momentarily but did not stop her. How much aura did she have left?

That may not matter.

Pyrrha did not want to trade blows, not where Umber would find it easier to block with her arms, to try and twist Miló out of Pyrrha's hand, while Pyrrha would be blind to Umber's punches and her kicks. Nevertheless, she leapt up to her feet, Miló switching from rifle back into sword mode, and stood ready, Miló raised, as Umber rushed towards her in a swift charge.

Swift, and with good fortune heedless too.

Pyrrha let her come, sensing her armour coming closer and closer.

Close enough for her to throw the first punch? A matter of judgement; how long were Umber's arms?

How close was she exactly?

Close enough?

Tyche Agathe.

Pyrrha dropped Miló and bent down, bent beneath — she hoped — any punch just thrown at her face as she lunged forward, reaching out with both hands for the metal she could sense before her.

Her fingers found something, fabric — Umber's jacket!

Pyrrha grabbed hold and threw herself backwards, dragging Umber with her, dragging her forwards; Pyrrha tucked her feet up, gathering what aura she could to them in the short span available, and as she felt her back touch the floor, she kicked upwards, kicking Umber in the gut — or somewhere near it hopefully — as she threw her upwards and forwards over Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha scrambled upright, recovering Miló as she felt Umber soar up – and then, like a star, begin to fall.

Down and down and down too far.

"Umber Gorgoneion has been ejected from the arena!" Professor Port declared. "The winner of this match and our second finalist is Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!"

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief at the same time as she let the light back into her world, pulling the makeshift blindfold up over her eyes just enough to see. She stood blinking in the suddenly bright light, squinting a little under the gaze of the crowds and the cameras.

It worked.

I did it.

I won.

I won!

She was a Vytal Festival finalist. Weiss awaited her in the final battle. If she won there, if she triumphed, then her career would be capped and crowned at the same time as it was ended.

She wanted it. She wanted the final triumph, the greatest triumph. She wanted to bring it home; she wanted to stand here as their champion. She wanted to go out on a high note, the highest of notes, here in the highest of places.

She wanted this, before she bid it all farewell.

She was pleased with herself, and she felt as though she had every right to be.

If only Sunset were here to see it.

Author's Note:

The two things the wiki told me about Umber's semblance were that it only works on one person at a time and that it doesn't work on Fox because he's blind so it actually took me a while to work out how Pyrrha was going to win this (those sections in earlier chapters where Twilight and Blake and Weiss are debating what to do about Umber? That was me, hashing out ideas within the context of the story). I did consider some form of mirror, but Pyrrha's shield doesn't have a reflective surface and any mirror would have the issue of being allowed or not being big enough to shield Pyrrha's own eyes, hence the solution that I eventually went with.

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

Outstanding work, Pyrrha! You deprived yourself of sight and thus put yourself at a titanic disadvantage. But through skill and a most adaptive use of your semblance, you still emerged victorious! That is a victory well-earned! They'll be talking about this one for years to come!

[AngelicTitan]

Loved this chapter; Rainbow section was a highlight as we see a vulnerable side of her as she confesses hating the loss, and her conversation with Leaf made my day, as it was very heartwarming seeing Rainbow speak of Weiss’ actions on Leaf’s rescue and her changing her tune because of it, I would love to see a conversation between Leaf and Weiss in the future; Weiss is stealing the show even when she isn’t on the chapter, lmao.
Pyrrha vs Umber gave me Perseus vs Medusa vibes, and it was pretty interesting as Pyrrha is based on a Greek Hero (Achilles, in this case, and her V3 death being her Heel moment) but not the right one, but it was interesting seeing a Greek Myth fight on the story. Now we have the finalists, and we are approaching the dreadful fireworks...

[Stet709]

Celestia shook her head. “Even if we are to go around calling them liars … I am sure that Sunset Shimmer did what she thought was best.”

“I am sure of that too; it worries me more than it appears to bother you,” Luna remarked. “Regardless of that, I’m sure that something happened up on the arena; Rainbow Dash’s aura didn’t deplete itself, after all, and she had much more of it after her fight with Sun Wukong. Enough to carry her through that battle, I think.”

I figured that's how it was going to go. Despite the possible truth, Celestia still sees Sunset in a positive light, while Luna sees her in a negative light.

“To be a semifinalist is not nothing,” Luna pointed out. “It’s more than either of us managed.”

Wait, if Qrow beat Luna in the Vytal tournament once, that means that was a quarterfinals match if Luna never made it to semifinals.

That's quite a creative use for Pyrrha's semblance. Quite fortunate Umber was wearing metal at all (unlike someone like Arslan) and to how the match ended, she said she wouldn't throw Umber out at the beginning of the match. She didn't say she wouldn't throw her out at all. In fact, she didn't even use her semblance to do it. She literally kicked Umber out of the ring.

If only Sunset were here to see it.

And Pyrrha continues to highlight the depth of their friendship.

Wait, this isn't a segue into the next chapter where we cut to Sunset again, is it? Not that I wouldn't welcome that, that is.

[sepulka666]

This story has crossed several million words, so my comment is late and therefore largely meaningless. But I'll be honest. This story is overloaded with characters and dialogue. There are few significant events in it, and it develops too slowly. That's why I stopped reading it entirely, and only read the parts dedicated to Sunset Shimmer. There I find at least something interesting for myself. I apologize for the harshness.

[Luviere]

11811254
I understand what you mean, Rwby does have a lot of characters. But unlike the show, this fic does manage to actually expand and not forget their characters. But yeah, many characters.

Also, come on man. Ciel? Neon? Rainbow? Jaune?(before he done fucked up with our girl Sunset). All of them have stories that rival Sunset's. No, in case of Ciel, her stories are above Sunset's. Do give Ciel stories a try, i promise you won't be disappointed. Tell you what, if you give it a try and you still dont like it, you can blame Mastermind4892. He hasn't done anything wrong, but blame him anyway.

[Plotbuster]

Ah, Weiss and Pyrrha move on to the penultimate round. Good to see. Not sure if their match will get resolved before all hell breaks loose, but we'll see I guess. I still hope Pyrrha takes the championship, but I wouldn't be upset at all if Weiss won. The narrative for her possible victory's been built well. Still, Weiss being so reliant on her sword for most of her techniques and Pyrrha's semblance giving her the ability to nudge it's aim off if not simply rip it out of her hand makes me hesitant to give Weiss much of a chance here.

Also, I really love Camilla here. I doubt it'll happen, but I'd love nothing more than Lionheart to be a little incautious in his communications here. Qrow showing up at their door only to be summarily presented with Lionheart's head would be a treat. Absolutely fuck him, he's been sending his students to their deaths for who knows how long. The last two chapters have had absolutely great subplot movement. I'll admit I miss Sunset and hope we get to see her next chapter. Hopefully we can get more time between Ruby, Amber and Dove too. There's a lot going on there. I don't expect any kind of confrontation or confession really, but just the possibility of someone getting overwrought or letting something slip makes for some great tension.

[AngelicTitan]

11811254
If you've got a problem with the length of the story and the arcs in it, I would recommend you to read it on Ao3 instead of FimFiction, as there the fic is better separated into Volumes and has a more cohesive structure by separating it into different Books; concerning the multitude of Characters, a lot of them are secondary that have 1 or 2 scenes per 10 chapters and are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. In my opinion, the Main Characters of the series are Sunset, Pyrrha, Rainbow, and Blake. Those 4 are the most developed, have the most chapters dedicated to them, and have a significant impact on the world at large. From Team SAPR, Jaune has 1 or 2 arcs, and only now Ruby is being developed, while Penny has a background arc. Cinder is the main antagonist throughout most of the series and is the one that is the best fleshed out of the villains. The story isn't convoluted, it's just long.
Again, if you're having a problem with its length, I recommend read it by Volumes by using the Ao3 version instead of the FimFiction one, as that one is better separated.

[Stet709]

11811402
I agree, I wouldn't mind a Weiss win. Sure, a victory for Pyrrha would cap off her gladiator career splendidly, but a victory for Weiss might shut the last of her naysayers up, and the only booing might come from Mistralians on account of Pyrrha, the Invincible Girl, being defeated by a human opponent for once.
Personally, given the lack of aura on both parties, I feel this might be a quick fight, and any victory might me short-lived once the fireworks start and all hell breaks loose (not dissimilar to how the fighting started in the original mere minutes after Pyrrha defeated Penny in a 1v1 exhibition match)

[Kiue Jin]

Pyrrha and Weiss!

11811402
Honestly, I kind of want Qrow (or Sunset) to sit and talk with Camilla and company and just be somewhat honest about the situation. 'Cinder Fall named Lionheart as working with her extremist sect of Grimm Worshipers and she's submitted enough evidence that we can't just dismiss the claim outright. We're here to investigate how true this claim is... and if it is, quietly remove him from the picture so that anti-faunus advocates cannot use him to set back Faunus rights generations.'

No mention of Salem or the larger shadow war at all. Just make it clear that there is too much evidence of Lionheart's guilt just to dismiss the claim of a grimm terrorist outright and that the situation is being handled quietly via cloak and dagger because of the political dangers if it became public knowledge that an unpopular faunus headmaster was working with a murder cult/terrorist cell.

[Mastermind4892]

11811328
... Hey!

[Dark one]

11811464
I had never heard pf Ao3 before but I thank you for refering to it. Many people I wanted to recommend this to were a tad frightened off by the chapter count. It being available in volumes makes it waaaaay easier to recommend.