It's still dark when I snap open my eyes before the alarm.
My free arm shoots out, fingers groping for the Scroll on the nightstand. The screen glows
faintly under my touch, the alarm icon blinking. I tap it dead before it can scream.
"Five minutes before 05:00 am." I whisper with a smile. "Like clockwork."
Bleiss is holding my arm against my side, her breath warm and slow against my bicep. One
arm's pinned under her, fingers numb from the pressure, but I don't move yet.
Moonlight spills through the curtains, bathing her face in silver. With my free hand, I push a
strand of black hair aside, letting the back of my hand brush against her cheek. Her lips are
slightly parted, just enough to show the edge of her teeth.
She looks so…
"Whoa," I whisper.
She doesn't look like the girl who tried to electrocute me yesterday, not like the Schnee with
her black-metal whip and fiery temper. Just a beautiful girl, holding onto me as if I'm the only
thing keeping her from sinking.
But as much as it hurts to leave her alone on the bed, I need to start my day.
I exhale through my nose and start the extraction.
First, I twist my wrist, loosening her grip just a fraction. Her fingers twitch, nails digging in
before relaxing again.
'Good.' I think in silence. 'Keep sleeping my cute psycho yandere.'
Then I slide my arm out slowly, inch by inch, until her palm rests on the mattress instead of
my skin.
To my surprise she whimpers. Her voice is a tiny, broken sound, like a puppy kicked in the
dark.
"Nn-. don't leave me…" Her voice cracks, throaty and raw, and her body jerks, reaching
blindly for where I was. Her fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles white.
My gut twists, I almost give in. Almost pull her back, let her rest on my arm until sunrise…
but I need to train.
I swallow hard and force myself out of bed.
The floorboards creak under my weight. I freeze, holding my breath, but Bleiss doesn't stir.
She's curled in on herself now.
I quickly strap on my gravity dust bands, black straps tightening around my wrists, ankles,
and torso. A faint purple glow sparks to life as the dust activates, the weight settling in,
familiar, grounding.
I yank a faded black tank over my head, the fabric clinging to the dust bands. My shorts are
next, loose and worn, the hem frayed from too many sparring sessions. Sneakers last,
beat-up, scuffed, but still holding together.
Bleiss stirs behind me, murmuring something incoherent. I pause, half-crouched, but she
doesn't wake. Just rolls onto her side, one hand splayed across the empty space where I
slept.
I exhale through my nose and stand.
"Man..." I whisper. "Gonna miss getting ready for training without a care in the world."
The door clicks shut behind me as I leave my bedroom. I turn and freeze.
Emerald's sprawled face-up on her mattress, arms clenching a pillow over her head, like
she's trying to suffocate herself.
"The hell?"
My eyes flick past her and I freeze again.
"Wait… wasn't there another bed here?" I whisper, frowning.
Apparently, Adam had pushed his bed together with the one that should've been Bleiss's.
But that isn't what makes me stop.
Someone is lying beside him, head resting against the bull faunus's chest. Long black hair
spills across the pillow, and the pair of cat ears perched on top leave no doubt of who that is.
"So… Blake and Adam are still a thing?" I whisper under my breath. "Neat."
Shaking my head I walk towards the door to finally start my grind.
As soon as I leave the room I mutter.
"Let's see what Beacon has for a gym."
***
I'm not satisfied with Beacon's gym.
"Holy shit." I mutter, eyes wide.
I'm fucking losing it, grinning like a maniac, my mind completely blown.
"If this place were a church, the holy trinity would be Arnold Schwarzenegger, Terry Crews,
and The Rock."
I take one step as my neck cranks up, eyes darting like a kid in a candy store.
There're ten omni adaptive treadmills, each one a sleek black beast with holographic
displays flickering above the belts. The belts can shift, tilt, and warp, mimicking terrain from
mountain slopes to crumbling ruins.
Next to it, a cluster of aura-resonance platforms pulse with soft blue light, floating inches off
the ground. Perfect for training fighters specialized in Aura usage like Ren in the first season.
A sharp hiss drags my gaze left.
Those are thermo-hazard chambers, glass-walled cubes where in addition to temperature
can be set between subzero and volcanic. But its not just temperature, things like
atmospheric pressure, air humidity, winds and many other weather hazards can be
simulated.
My fingers twitch as I force myself to keep moving.
A shifting climbing wall looms ahead, a monstrous grid of handholds and footholds that
reconfigure every few seconds. No pattern, no mercy.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me." I curse noticing the projectile gauntlet rooms.
A sealed-off shooting range, but not for guns, for people. Targets whip past at insane
speeds, dodging, weaving, firing back. In those rooms you can choose the type and speed of
projectiles fired at them.
"I'm going to need a lot of hours in those to learn how to dodge better." I mutter with a smile.
"I can't tank everything now that I'm in Beacon."
Thinking nothing in this gym would surprise me anymore, I see something that makes my
jaw drop.
"No way! Are those aura-leech bands?" I ask no one as I approach the Bands on display in
reinforced bulletproof glass cases.
As I approach them, a red holographic warning projects in front of me.
{CAUTION: SIMULATES AURA DEPLETION AT 5X COMBAT RATE.
RECOMMENDED FOR ADVANCED USERS ONLY.}
"Each one of these bad boys could buy a twenty-story building at Vale's commercial district."
I laugh in disbelief.
I press a palm against the glass, half-expecting some high-tech security to scream at me.
Nothing. Just my breath fogging the surface for a second before the climate control swallows
it.
This isn't just equipment. It's a statement. A middle finger to the rest of the world, wrapped in
Beacon's signature polished metal and good intentions.
"Excuse me." A deep voice rumbles behind me. "Could you step aside?"
I blink,turning to the voice source. The guy looks like a walking siege engine: broad
shoulders, thick arms corded with muscle, and a stance that screams I could bench-press a
Bullhead. He's easily over 2.1 meters (7'0"), maybe taller, every inch of him looks carved
from granite.
I step aside as he picks up two leech bands. The black metal snaps shut with a quiet click, a
holographic warning flickering over his skin for a heartbeat before vanishing.
I don't even realize I'm staring until he looks up.
"Yatsuhashi Daichi," he says, nodding in greeting.
His voice is steady, no-nonsense. The kind of guy who doesn't waste words.
"Ash Williams." I say with a nod.
He tilts his head, just slightly, like he's filing the name away.
"Good to see someone else here this early." His lips quirk. Not quite a smile, but close. "Most
students don't show up until after breakfast. Even the upperclassmen."
"Yeah, well." I snort. "I've got a lot to prove, and my Semblance is not really combat
oriented."
Yatsuhashi exhales through his nose, a quiet, almost amused sound. His dark eyes flick over
me, assessing, before he nods like I just passed some unspoken test.
"Same." His voice is low, rough-edged. "My Semblance isn't built for fighting either."
He rolls his shoulders like the weight of it is nothing. But I see it, the way his fingers flex, the
way his jaw tightens for half a second. Pride or maybe frustration.
"Guess that's why you're here before the sun's up too, huh?" He tilts his head, just slightly.
"Grinding like your life depends on it."
"Yeah, well." I bark out a laugh. "It kinda does."
No pity in his gaze. No bullshit. Just a slow, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, like he
gets it. Like he's been there.
Then, without warning, he extends his hand.
Not a limp-wristed polite gesture. Not some half-assed nod. His palm is calloused, fingers
slightly spread, demanding a real grip.
I don't hesitate.
Our hands clash, knuckles to knuckles, fingers locking like we're sealing a pact. His grip is
iron, but I squeeze back harder, grinding my teeth. A real bro power handshake.
He tries to pull me in, like a test or a challenge.
I grin as I stand my ground and try to pull him.
We are at an impasse, his eyes flicker with amusement, before he lets go with a sharp nod.
"Good." He says.
Then he turns, striding toward a corner and sits down, closing his eyes and beginning to
meditate.
"Cool, focused and quiet." I mutter under my breath, cracking my knuckles. "Wish he was on
my team."
Sighing heavily as I remember the headache team I lead, I decide to focus on my workout.
***
The barbell groans under ten thousand kilos of magnet enhanced weights, my legs burning
like hell as I drive up from the squat. Sweat stings my eyes, but I lock my arms, teeth
clenched tight.
"Fucking… finally…" I hiss, slamming the bar back into the rack.
The clatter reverberates through the empty gym. Quads screaming, lower back screaming
louder, but I don't care, pain is proof I'm alive.
A slow, impressed whistle cuts through the gym's silence.
"Damn. Vale's Dark Horse isn't just a pretty face and dirty tricks, huh?"
I glance over, catching her leaning against a weight rack, arms crossed, one brow raised.
Long blond hair, sharp lilac eyes, a grin that's all teeth. Her confidence is carved from steel.
I yank my towel from the rack, snapping it against my neck, the sting sharp and grounding.
"And you, Yang Xiao Long," I say, tossing the damp cloth over my shoulder. "As magnificent
as described on the third stall from the left in the men's bathroom, if I remember right."
Yang's grin falters. Her golden eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.
I don't blink. Just stare right back, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch like a drawn blade
between us.
But that doesn't last long as we both snort as Yang bursts first, throwing her head back with
a loud, barking laugh. The sound bounces off the gym walls, rich and unfiltered.
I lose it next, doubling over, hands on my knees.
"Oh, fuck-." She says, words coming out wheezing. "Are you for real, Ash?"
"Nah." I wave a hand dismissing her question. "Just some bullshit I pulled out of my ass."
Yang wipes at her eyes, still chuckling as she straightens up.
"Seriously though," she says, rolling her shoulders like she's shaking off the last of her
laughter. "It's Good to see you Ash."
I smirk, grabbing my water bottle.
"It's good to see you too, Yang," I say, snapping the cap shut with a click. "Especially outside
an official fight."
"That reminds me," Yang says, cracking her knuckles.
Without warning, she drives a fist straight into my gut.
POW!
"Whyyy?" I wheeze, doubling over.
"That's for what you did to my hair in our last match," she says with a playfully threatening
smile.
"It was washable ink!" I groan through the pain.
"Don't. Fuck. With. My. Hair." She says looking at me coldly, cracking her knuckles again.
I straighten up, wincing as my abs scream in protest, and raise my hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright," I say, breath still ragged. "I'm sorry, Yang. Won't happen again."
She beams, victorious, and pats my shoulder hard enough to knock me off balance.
"Good boy," she says, grinning. "And before I forget, you should stay the fuck away from
Ruby."
I rub the back of my neck, smirking.
"Damn, you're a protective sister."
Yang barks out a laugh, sharp and sarcastic.
"Oh, no," she says, shaking her head. "I'm protecting you from that silver-eyed psychopath."
I blink as Yang leans in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You saw what she did to Cardin, right? One hit and Boom! Aura shattered like Winchester's
fragile ego. And that was her holding back."
I exhale, rubbing my jaw.
"Yeah, I noticed she didn't break a sweat."
"She has been crazy focused in combat since both of our mothers died."
"Wait…" I say, surprised. "Both your moms are dead?"
Yang blinks, thrown off by the question.
"Most people get stuck on the two moms part, not the dead part."
I stutter, leaning back against the weight bench, trying to play it cool.
"I-I me-mean, I'm all for polylove, he-he." I say with a cring ass fake laugh. "But both moms,
and both dead? That's… a lot."
Yang's grin fades, her golden eyes dimming like embers losing heat. She picks at the tape
on her knuckles, peeling it back just to press it down again.
"Dad did his best, and I assure you that was a lot," she says, voice rougher now. " He never
let us want for anything, was always there when we needed. But Ruby…" A sharp exhale.
"She was so young, Ash..."
My chest tightens as Yang's face shows a vulnerable side of her I have never seen before.
Yang's fingers flex, like she's gripping something invisible.
"She stood there in the rain, this tiny little thing, crying and screaming at the sky that it wasn't
fair. And then-." her voice cracks, the words catching in her throat. She forces herself to go
on. "That night, when no one was watching, she broke a shard off Summer Rose's
tombstone… and carved into her own flesh: 'Kill all Grimm'."
'Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me,' I think holding my breath. 'Ruby Rose isn't just
some prodigy with a scythe, she's Batman with the power of an edgy anime protagonist.'
"That girl needs some friends, A.S.A.P." I blurt without thinking.
Yang's eyes lock onto me, sharp as blades.
"Damn, Ash," she exhales, rubbing her temples like I just gave her a migraine. "That's…
harsh. But you're not wrong."
She slumps against the weight rack, arms crossed, her usual fire dampened.
"But nobody wants to get close to her, let alone be her friend," she mutters. "People either
fear her or write her off as some kind of powerful freak. And Ruby? She's too damn stubborn
to give a damn about other people she deems weak."
I wince, shifting my weight.
"Yeah, well," I say, shrugging. "Kid's got a scythe the size of a small car, a death glare that
could melt steel, and combat prowess to rival professional Hunstmen. Not exactly
approachable."
Yang's head snaps up as I take a long swing of my water bottle. A wicked grin splits her
face, slow and dangerous, like some sort of crazy idea popped on her mind.
"Sooo," she drawls, pushing off the rack. "Can you be her friend?"
I choke and spit my water.
"Pff! The fuck?" I bark out a laugh, nearly spitting my water. "Hell no. Two seconds ago, you
were warning me to stay the fuck away from her!"
Yang waves a hand, dismissive.
"Dont live in past my dude," she says, smirking. "Besides, maybe her crazy reaction to you is
a sign she's finally getting interested in boys."
My stomach drops.
"Oh no."
"And let's be real," she goes on, eyes dragging up and down my frame with way too much
interest. "Seeing you shirtless and pantsless might've just kickstarted her puberty."
"For fuck's sake, Yang." I gag.
She bursts out laughing, doubling over and slapping her knee like it's the funniest shit in the
world.
"Please Yang, just stop."
"Why?" she wheezes, snorting through her tears. "Come on, Ash, I might play for the other
team, but even I can see you've got a body worth wrecking. And Ruby's fifteen, hormones
are a bitch."
"Don't pimp me out to your sister," I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "I've already got
my hands full with Bleiss."
"Oh yeah…" she mutters. "First day, and you've got the Schnee slut wrapped around your
finger. Good for you buddy."
The gym narrows to a pinprick, nothing left but me, Yang, and the sharp crack of my
knuckles as my blood boils.
"You get one for free," I say, voice low, each word a nail driven in as Yang's eyes widen. "But
if you ever call her that again-."
Yang's cut me, hands shoot up, palms out.
"Whoa, whoa! Shit, Ash," she backpedals, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. Just repeating what I heard,
damm!"
I exhale hard through my nose, jaw tight enough to crack. The rage doesn't vanish, but I
chain it down.
"Yeah," I spit. "Well, just don't."
"Okay, okay," Yang says quickly, her tone cautious. "Chill, man."
I rub the back of my neck, forcing my shoulders to drop.
"Sorry," I mutter. "But Bleiss… she's not what people think."
Yang tilts her head, studying me like I'm a half-finished puzzle.
"So she's not out there stacking bodies like a starving ursa major?"
I snort, bone-dry.
"She's a virgin."
Yang chokes. Her face twists in shock, then a bark of disbelieving laughter.
"No way," she wheezes. "She's a hot goth and a pure maiden? That's some straight-up
anime love interest bullshit."
I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, well… maybe not that pure," I admit, remembering last night. "She choked me and
electrocuted me last night."
"Damn… the goth Schnee likes it rough," Yang breathes, genuinely surprised. "Her sister on
my team could use a little of that freak streak."
The corner of my mouth twitches as I hold a smirk.
"Speaking of sisters," I say, grabbing my towel and slinging it over my shoulder, "Weiss
giving you trouble?"
Yang snorts, rolling her eyes so hard I swear I heard a click.
"That girl's got a stick so long, so far up her ass she could use it as a lance," she groans,
stretching her arms overhead.
I raise a brow.
"That bad, huh?"
Yang exhales, shaking out her limbs like she's trying to shake off the thought.
"Nah, it's not bad," she says, waving a hand. "Just… exhausting. That girl has more rules
than a prison warden."
She cracks her neck, then grins at me, sharp and sudden.
"Anyway," she says, already backing toward the gym doors. "Gotta hit the weights before
class. We'll talk more later, yeah?"
I nod, fist bumping her.
"Good luck with the Ice Queen, goldie locks."
Yang flips me off, laughing as she leaves.
The second I step out of the gym, every ache, every burn in my muscles disappears, like it
was never there. I flex my arms, roll my shoulders, testing the limits.
No soreness. No strain. Just smooth, effortless movement, like I'd been lounging all day
instead of squatting a goddamn building.
'My Semblance might not be great for direct combat,' I think with a smirk, 'But I could train all
day thanks to it.'
I smirk proudly as I walk to get ready for the day.