Chapter XII - No Weapon in This World
Blake
Trying to tune out the sound of her team while they were playing Conquerers of Remnant was like trying to ignore the sound of an avalanche. Between Weiss’s sighing and evil laughter, Ruby’s wailing, and Yang’s cheers of menace, it was hard to hear herself think.
She was reading, of course, but not thinking. She would read a line, and realize she hadn’t taken in any of it. It was hard to, enormously hard, when the only things that seemed to occupy her thoughts were Yang and the menacing words of Torchwick. One she was more than willing to think about— the other, not so much.
The girl in question raised her head and beckoned to Blake with a little silver statuette. “Come on, Blake, you’re missing out!”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, hardly recognizing the formality of her voice. Yang was about to reply before they all quieted, as the sound of someone knocking on the door split through the room. Ruby donned a somewhat-sober expression and rose, opening the door.
“I’m sorry for the— oh.” Blake looked up at the surprise in Ruby’s voice. “Professor Goodwitch. Is something wrong?”
What’s she doing here? Blake pondered. The professors were loathe to visit the students’ dorms, especially on weekends. As the stern faced Huntress eyed the scattered pieces of the board game and a guilty-looking Weiss and Yang with a raised eyebrow. “I see I am… intruding on a very enlightening game,” she said, a hint of reproach in her voice. “I feel studying would be more appropriate at this hour.” She fixed her glasses and looked sternly at them. “However, that is not why I came.”
“Is there - something wrong?” Ruby asked nervously.
Goodwitch looked past Ruby, her eyes landing on Blake, icy and blank. “In a way,” she said. “I have come for Miss Belladonna.”
Yang
Yang slowly set her Vacuo warrior figurepiece down and looked at Blake. Her partner had frozen, eyes narrowed, before she stepped off the bunk bed and set her book down with such precision, you almost would believe it might detonate at any moment. “I’m sorry, Professor?”
Goodwitch consulted her Scroll before examining Blake from above the rims of her glasses. “Miss Belladonna, Professor Ozpin has requested to have a word with you about the… incidents that transpired a short while ago in downtown Vale and the shipyard. He has been very busy as of late, but he has, of course, intimated that he desires an audience with you. He is curious about the… violence that occurred.” Her eyes glittered before she added reluctantly, “You have a right to decline, of course. The headmaster would not want to force—“
"I'll go,” Blake said. There was a firmness in her tone, devoid of anger, that surprised Yang. She seemed to be looking past Professor Goodwitch, a light flickering in her eyes, as if of reflected fire. She wouldn’t look Yang’s way, but she saw Blake’s muscles coil just like a cat readying to flee, but her jaw’s set was stony.
In that moment Yang couldn't help but think that she looked very like the cold shell of an angry Faunus, every bit like the person she claimed she was not.
Blake
Blake stared at her hands, folded on the cold table. Moonlight shone down, reflecting off of each scar, some from battles, some not. In the webbing lattice of silver, she felt more trapped than ever— but this war was not one that any strength could win.
“I must apologize for the late hour.”
Blake looked up sharply, surprised, as Ozpin’s voice rang out in the room. He appeared in the doorway, as always, with his mechanized silvery cane and the coffee cup bearing the crest of crossed axes and an olive wreath. War and peace.
“I’m sure that after a taxing incident of truly fighting for the first time, without rules, you must want to go back to your dorm and rest with your team. But I was hoping we could have a chance to talk.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Wonderful.” He took his seat, observing her closely over his glasses. “As you know, in order to enroll at my academy, students must first pass a rigorous entrance exam. Most applicants spend years of preparation training at one of the many combat schools around the world. You are one of the few that did not. And you passed the exam with flying colors.”
“I was raised outside of the kingdoms,” she said warily, drumming her fingers on the steel edge of the table. “If you’re not able to fight, you don’t survive.”
“You have most certainly survived, Blake,” he agreed, his scrutinizing gaze steady on her. “I admire your drive. I am proud to run an academy that accepts individuals from all walks of life— rich. Poor. Human.” He sipped his coffee. “And Faunus.”
She glared at him, and he heaved a sigh.
“Why do you wear that bow, Blake? Why hide who you are?”
“You may be willing to accept the Faunus, Professor Ozpin,” she growled, “but your species is not. Even the best of them think of us as inferior—“
“True,” he agreed, “but we are continuing to take strides to lessen the divide.”
“With all due respect, sir,” she snarled, her tone conveying anything but the sort, “you need to start taking some larger strides. Until then, I'd rather avoid any unnecessary attention. I want people to see me for who I am, not what I am.”
“And what are you?” He leaned forward, fingers pressing together in a clasping gesture.
She swallowed under the pressure of his clear gaze. “I— I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“How did you know the White Fang would be at the shipyard tonight?”
She shook her head vehemently, a sheen of perspiration on her brow. How much can he possibly know? “I didn’t. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”
“You wouldn't have been the first,” he assured her, a faint note of comfort softening his tone, before it hardened again, rising in the still room. “But what happened tonight was not an isolated incident. I may be your headmaster, but I am also a Huntsman, and it is my sworn duty to protect this world from the forces that conspire against it.”
“Not the… first incident, sir?”
“Do you know how your leader came to gain entry to this school at such a young age?” Ozpin inquired. Blake shook her head mutely. “I see you don’t. She was apprehended by Roman Torchwick, and was aided by Glynda in driving him away from the city.” He stared unseeingly out the window, his eyes flickering with shadows. “‘Something wicked this way comes.’ I despair that the temporarily-bought tranquility in Remnant is not something that will last forever.”
“Do you mean— war?”
“There are forces that even we do not know of at work; agendas and plots set in motion.” His eyes were sad, but it was not a human sadness: it was a grief of centuries, of a whole world. “I do not say this lightly. Secrets are powerful. Sometimes they may even hold the power to destroy us. But take heed of this, too; truth is a deadly weapon, and we must be careful how we use it.”
“Yes, Headmaster.”
His eyes returned to the window, reflecting the moonlight like tears. “Miss Belladonna, you would do well to speak. Sometimes, we don’t say the things we need to say to those we hold close… and often, we never get to. Fate has a way of tearing people apart. There’s some things that no weapon in this world can fight. No amount of trickery or deceit will change what honesty can. Blake, are you sure there is nothing else you wish to tell me?”
Her hands twisted together. To speak. Honesty. “I’m sure.”
“Very well. Thank you for your time, Miss Belladonna.” He rose and headed to the door, pausing and turning back to her, his face grave and sad like he had already seen his own fate, and knew it was a matter of time before he met an opponent he couldn’t overcome. “If you ever need to talk to me, please, don't hesitate to ask.”
The shutting of the door sounded like a gunshot, and Blake felt like she was choking, suddenly, snakes coiling over her tongue. She went to the window, flung it open, and gasped in the cool night air.
I can’t outrun my past— I can’t, I— She wasn’t able to form a coherent thought. All the stars above, and she would never touch them. So it went in all the tragedies, of life snuffed out, sundered by Fate. Her eyes landed on the Candle, a shining belt of dim stars to the north of the moon. A single star burned brightly at the tip of the constellation, a steady beacon of light.
Her heart rate returned to normal as she controlled her breathing. I’m okay, she told herself, knuckles white on the sill. It’s okay. Everything’s fine…
Ozpin had been telling her something, of that she was sure, something important. “You would do well to speak…” And it wasn’t about the White Fang.
No. It had been about someone.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
He’d been talking about Blake’s partner; she was certain. The names. They didn’t matter— all that truly counted was the soul, just the heart of who a person was. And so was Yang, wasn’t she? Even if she changed from time to time, she always was the steady point in Blake’s life, the shining star providing a beacon to guide through the long and cold nights.
Either way, musing over it until she lost her mind wouldn’t help her, and it wouldn’t change the plans unfolding around her— the White Fang, Roman. There was something happening, a ball set in motion, plots being woven. A chess game of lies and secrets, and she was sure that her team was caught right in the crossfire, because of her connections to her past. Connections she could not sever.
And if she had to become the pariah to solve this, then so be it. She couldn’t stand by, allow the rise of something she’d spent so long fearing.
Shouldering her way out of the doors and into the growing shadows of the night, she headed back home.
Yang
“We should never have let him play,” Yang growled, nettled at her defeat. “I swear he cheated.”
“You’re just mad because a guy with blue hair beat ya,” Ruby said, and Yang rolled her eyes, before she looked around and saw Blake, rising from her bed. She hurried to the door before Yang could see her face, but before Yang could talk — to call her back, stop her, anything — Weiss’s voice rang out in demand.
“Blake, stop.”
She drew to a halt as if caught in an act of wrongdoing, her hand hovering inches from the doorknob. She didn’t say anything, but her shoulders slumped, and Yang remembered the sorrow in her eyes. What was wrong with her? What had Ozpin said to make her this way so swiftly?
Weiss frowned at her. “Lately you've been quiet, antisocial and moody — “
“Have you met Blake?” Yang joked, trying to lighten the mood, but her partner turned around. There was such anguish in her eyes, raw and defeated, that Yang’s jaw immediately snapped shut. Oh. Oh no.
Weiss made a ‘shushing’ gesture at Yang before continuing, but Yang still gaped, Blake staring at the floor and refusing to meet her eyes. “Which I get is kind of your thing, but you've been doing it more than usual! Which quite frankly, is unacceptable! You made a promise to me, to all of us, that you would let us know if something was wrong!” She spun her arm before she stabbed a finger in Blake’s direction, blue eyes blazing. “So, Blake Belladonna, what is wrong?”
“I just—“ Her voice broke. “I don't understand how everyone can be so calm in the midst of this.”
Ruby’s eyes saddened. “You're still thinking about Torchwick?
“Torchwick, the White Fang, all of it! There’s more to this than just petty theft, I know it! Something big is happening and no one is doing anything about it!”
“Ozpin told us not to worry,” Yang mused, “but he’s secretive, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw a medium-sized elephant, which is not far. But… between the police and the Huntsmen, I'm sure they can handle it.”
“I’m not!” Blake shouted back at her, eyes flaring like coals. “They don't know the White Fang like I do! There’s a reason I left, and it’s not because they’re just inexperienced children playing at a rebellion!”
Weiss rolled her eyes at the two of them, glaring at each other, amber meeting lilac. “And do you suppose that, just because we’ve had a tendency to blow up nightclubs, stop thieves, and fight for freedom — all altruistically, I assure you — that you're all ready to go out and apprehend these ne'er-do-wells?”
“Uh, who?”
Blake was silent, her sorrow giving way to anger as she turned her stare on Weiss.
“That’s what I thought. Again, let me be the voice of reason.” Her face softened as she dipped her head in Blake’s direction. “Blake, I understand how you’re feeling. I know it, too. The adults are hiding something momentous, but why would they tell us? We're students! We're not ready to handle this sort of situation!”
Ruby frowned a little at that. “Well yeah, but…”
Weiss’s eyes sparked. “We're not ready!”
Blake blew up at that, a frightening spectacle— Yang, who had never seen her lose her temper but once, flinched. “And we may never be ready! Our enemies aren't just going to sit around and wait for graduation day.” She flung a finger towards the door, snarling. “They're out there, somewhere, planning their next move, and none of us know what it is, but it's coming! Whether we're ready or not! And that’s a fact that we need to face even if the authority doesn’t!”
Ruby raised her hands in surrender before forcing a smile on her face. “Ah. Okay. All in favor of becoming the youngest Huntresses to single-handedly take down a corrupt organization conspiring against the kingdom of Vale... say aye.”
Yang gladly leapt on the opportunity to get the scowl of Blake’s face. “Yes!” She pointed to her partner. “I love it when you're feisty!” To her relief, Blake’s scowl faded away, replaced by a small smile.
“Well,” Weiss conceded, “I suppose it could be fun.”
Ruby pouted. “None of you said aye…”
“Alright then,” Blake said, a sigh rustling from her lungs, “we're in this together.”
“Let's hatch a plan!”
“Yeah!
“That’s all well and good,” Blake said quietly, “but we can do it when I get back from the library.” She turned to the door; vanishing before they could say a word.
“She’s hiding something still,” Weiss declared as soon as the door slammed shut.
“No shit,” Yang said sarcastically, “really?”
Weiss glared and Ruby clapped her hands over her ears. Yang waved them off before going to the door. “I’m her partner. I’ve got the best shot of prying the angst out of her, okay? Don’t wait up on us.”
“Good luck,” Weiss said half-heartedly, before Yang swung open the door and dashed down the hall.
The library was dim at this hour, moonlight filtering down in dusty silver puddles. Vacant, the giant bookshelves rising like monoliths, sentinels to an untouched knowledge, it gave an air of silence and sorrow.
She found Blake by the sound of her breathing, broken and harsh. And so Yang wasn’t surprised to find Blake perched on a windowsill in the west wing of the library, half-hidden by trailing ivy creepers. Her partner wiped her nose before turning to face her, but her eyes glimmered too bright and the tracks of tears marked down her cheeks. She was entirely made of shadow and Yang’s heart broke for her. There was a sadness within Blake that no light could reach.
That didn’t mean she would ever stop trying.
“Are you ever going to trust me with your secrets?”
Blake wiped at her eyes and gave a watery smile. “You’ve seen more of me than most. Than anyone.”
“I don’t know who you are sometimes, Blake. Like right now.”
Blake’s smile slowly faded, her eyes moving away. “I trust you. But… I’m — I’m not ready. Not now, not yet. There are secrets to be given away like something precious. I need time.”
“Time can run out,” Yang warned her.
“I’m your partner.” Blake paused, hands lingering against window, almost unconsciously tracing a silver fissure on the paned glass. She smelled of frost and the wild places of the night. “It’s my job— my honor— to walk beside you even to the depths of hell, and protect you wherever you may go. But I… I can’t protect you from myself.”
“Of course.” Yang brushed Blake’s hair and the Faunus’s eyes shone, reflective, with more tears. There was something else there, some sorrow of some other emotion she couldn’t put a name to.
“Please go,” Blake whispered. “I don’t want you to see me this way.”
Leaving Blake there, alone save for the moon and the stars, felt like leaving behind a part of her heart. When Yang returned to the dorm, Ruby and Weiss were both asleep, but such refuge was a long time coming to her. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing only amber eyes, anguish, anger.
When sleep finally did claim her, she ran gratefully into the darkness.
And darkness it is. Yang is standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into a seething, inky darkness, a welling eternal night. There is a grayish medium before it turns into an impenetrable dark, like a shadow come to life.
She feels a sinister thing down there, a slumbering presence of malignancy.
“Your fight is coming,” a rumbling voice snarls from the darkness, and Yang stumbles back. “A fight that you have known is coming, have you not?”
A strain of wind arises from the darkness and Yang’s voice is lost in it when she speaks. “Who are you?”
A beat. Then, “Eluding questions with more questions… all a symptom of your fire. But even the brightest of fires can be overcome by shadows. Brilliant lights cease to burn; souls become their reflections, darkness mirrors itself, sundered by a choice.”
“Choices are not so momentous. How do you know I’ll be overcome?”
A pause. Then the thing chuckles, a low rumble making the ground tremor. “Because you are a hero, Yang Xiao Long,” it whispers, the wind rising to a crescendo of discorded screeches of agony. “And there is always going to be an enemy that is faster, stronger, smarter.” It pauses for so long, Yang thinks she is alone, before it speaks again, softly and crooning, like it is standing behind her and hissing in her ear.
“For every hero, there is a fight they cannot win.”
And then: light.
When Yang woke, she looked up at the ceiling and felt as if something new had come into the world, as if the earth were shifting on its axis and winter had finally given way to spring.