Nearly the 8th of Feb, nearly the end of this work event – nearly a time when I'll finally be able to put actual hours into chapters. I cannot wait. It's just ruining my punctuality! I've had PM's asking me if I'm okay or not injured because my fanfics are being released an hour or two late. I'm not sure whether to appreciate the concern or feel irritated that I've gained a routine so specific I'm becoming known for it.
I need to be unpredictable, mysterious, dangerous... Quick, I'll write an edgy author's note! Yeah, that'll attract the ladies. No way this'll look like the ravings of a mad man.
Update: Re-uploading chapter as some have complained they can't see it for some reason. Hope it's fixed now.
Chapter 13
The Invincible Girl; that was what they called her. It was a proud title, a deserved title, and one that she'd earned through years of blood, sweat, and tears. It was the crowning moment of her career and something her fans had cheered from the stands as she stood over the defeated forms of her opponents. It was also a name she hated with a passion.
Pyrrha was the first out of another lesson with Miss Goodwitch, pushing past various people who stared at her and whispered in awe, jealousy, and sometimes pure spite. Others watched in admiration, and she wasn't sure if that was worse. It made her feel more than she was - more than she wanted to be. At least those who were jealous didn't feign friendship.
"You just had to go all-out," she hissed, angrier at herself than anyone else. "Would it really have been that hard to throw a fight, or at least act like it was difficult?" Her hands clenched into fists and her breath came out laboured. She rounded a corner and vanished from view of her classmates, whining through gritted teeth.
She'd won again.
Not that it was a rare occurrence. She won all her bouts, no matter who she went against. Even without using her Semblance she was able to win, using speed, skill, or critical analysis to find the holes in their defence. Winning was nothing new to her, nothing special, and maybe it would have stayed that way if she'd just let it. She'd crossed the line, however, the line between `good` and `invincible`. After all, most first-years couldn't beat an entire team on their own.
She'd only accepted Miss Goodwitch's suggestion because she saw an opportunity to fix her problem. If everyone thought she was unbeatable, then surely by losing they'd realise she wasn't. That seemed an easy option – and Team CRSN weren't exactly a bad team per se. They just had no teamwork to speak of.
It was less like she'd faced a team and more like fighting two pairs who were working together but kept getting in one another's way. That still might have been enough to beat her if she'd let them, or just taken it easy, but beyond everything, beyond even their problems, the ultimate mistake was hers and hers alone.
Pyrrha didn't like to lose.
It was a bit of a weird thing and her agent assured her she never quite gave off the image of being an overly competitive person, but then again, her agent was paid to keep her happy, so she would say that. Either way, she hadn't become a championship fighter by having no interest in fighting, and the reason she'd improved so much, so fast, was because she had a competitive streak a mile wide. What kind of professional athlete didn't? It was pretty much a requirement.
So, she'd fought as hard as she could, and she'd won against an entire team of her peers, and in that one small motion destroyed any chance she had of her classmates seeing her as such. How could she be a peer to them when her skills were peerless? It just didn't work.
And her partner's face – oh Gods. Russel had been watching with her team of course, and he'd even clapped for her victory as he was expected to. There'd been a certain detachment to it all, however. No words had been exchanged between them as she returned to stand beside him, and that awkward silence carried over to her other teammates, who sensed the mood and quickly chattered among themselves. He'd been happy to be her partner once. He'd been friendly and sarcastic but smiled while they fought together in the Emerald Forest. There was none of that now.
Not for the first time Pyrrha wondered if things could have been different. Not for the first time she wondered if she'd made a mistake coming to Vale and Beacon.
She needed a break from it – just for a little while. She was the first to reach their dorm and she quickly rummaged through her wardrobe, finding a black coat and pulling it on, slipping her long red hair into the back of it. She'd have opted for a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses as well, but those weren't exactly inconspicuous. She hesitated before she left, wondering if she ought to leave a note explaining that she was going out.
Would anyone even bother to read it? Would they care what it said? Probably not. The door slammed shut behind her and she was away.
/-/
Monday was a quieter day for Jaune's, and that was a welcome relief after the hustle and bustle of the weekend. Russel wasn't scheduled to wait today, and Velvet had already helped in the morning both with organising supplies and bringing down the nautical-themed decorations. She'd left before opening, however, to head back to Beacon and get ready for lessons. So it was that the day passed relatively peacefully, with not even a whiff of a threat from Café Prime to speak of. Even the Malachite sisters seemed subdued, tired and weary after a late night of partying. They'd mustered the barest of teasing for him, but their hearts hadn't been in it.
At any other time Jaune might have been worried about it all, but the peace and quiet was welcome and he simply took advantage of the chance to serve guests himself and interact a little more with each of them. Beacon would be out soon, but Team RWBY was behind enough on homework as it was and wouldn't be coming down. To be fair, apart from Weiss, they probably couldn't afford to be stopping be every day. They were only students.
"Peaceful day," one customer, a huntsman of thirty years, said. "It's fun to see the next generation out and about, but there's something to be said for a quiet drink as well."
Jaune laughed as he put the plate with a slice of cake down before the man. "I couldn't agree more. My legs could certainly use the rest."
"And your new employees. They worked hard, the poor things."
"I know. Don't worry; they're paid well – salary and tips." He'd heard of some places which skimped on one or the other, or who paid little and expected the rest to be made up by gratuity – even some who took a percentage of the tips earned and kept them for the company. It seemed so unfair that he couldn't bring himself to consider it. Tips were for the person who did the serving, or maybe for the chefs as well in a restaurant, but he didn't have any.
He moved over to serve another customer after, idly chatting with the huntress as she asked about the local news. She'd been on a hunt apparently and was a little out of the loop. He filled her in as best he could and provided a local newspaper, before he was interrupted by the sudden open and close of the diner's door. The bell tinkled afterward but it was the slap and slam of someone entering quickly, and sealing it behind them, which caught everyone's attention.
The person responsible stared back at them with wide green eyes, before she coughed and stepped away from the door. Someone shouted something outside – and her shoulders stiffened as several shapes ran by the window. Everyone continued to stare.
Jaune strode forward to stop it, cocking his head to the side and smiling. "Table for one?"
"Please," the woman said, halfway between relief and a plea for help. He led her to a table a little to the side, tucked away and out of view, and as she settled down into it the other customers decided it wasn't really as exciting as it seemed and got back to their own things.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Jaune offered. "Maybe some cake?"
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't… I mean, can I see a menu? I didn't really mean to…" She broke off with a sigh. "Sorry. I'm a little winded."
"Looks like it," he laughed, offering her a small menu. He nodded to the window, where the people had run by. "Those friends of yours? At least I hope they're friends. I wouldn't want to imagine people chasing a girl for any other reason."
She seemed startled by the question but caught herself quickly. "Oh, they meant no harm. They… I guess they wanted to talk to me, but I wanted a bit of time to myself. They won't cause any problems here. I promise."
"It's fine. I'll leave you to your menu, miss. If you need me just feel free to wave."
/-/
Pyrrha sighed and looked down to the menu as the waiter left. Well, that hadn't quite gone as she'd hoped it would. It was probably too much to hope that no one would recognise her as she walked around the streets. Maybe sunglasses and a hat wouldn't have been a bad idea after all. It had been a small group of girls far younger than her, maybe students from Signal, but whatever the case she'd not been prepared for the sudden attention one girl crying out her name brought. The girl probably hadn't meant it. Or, well, she definitely hadn't meant to start some kind of stampede and hadn't even been involved.
In the end it was an eclectic mix of people who gave chase, determined for either autographs, souvenirs, or maybe even to tell her their sorry stories and beg for money – she hated those encounters the most. She could never tell whether they were genuine or not, even if her agent assured her they never were. She felt awful when she turned them down and it ruined any chance of improving her mood.
I'm glad I managed to lose them here, she thought, glancing subtly around the interior of the diner. It was a small and cosy place that didn't have too much custom, but that worked to her advantage. She'd spend a little lien here, if only as thanks for saving her. She was also grateful the waiter hadn't made a scene or asked her why she was running away from people or hiding here.
Her cheeks flushed as she imagined what kind of answer she'd have to give, and she buried herself in reading the menu, so she wouldn't have to imagine it. The menu itself was quite extensive, and even included a few options she missed from Mistral, along with a range of cakes and pastries. She raised her eyes to look for the blonde waiter and caught him behind the till talking to a middle-aged huntsman. The huntsman laughed and paid for something he took away in a paper bag, waving back over one shoulder as he left.
Pyrrha's hand hovered before her to catch the waiter's attention when he was done, and it didn't take him long to notice and come over. As he did she noticed something she'd missed before, the fact that his left arm was in a sling.
He smiled as he came over. "Sorry for the wait, miss. Ready to order?"
"Can I have a Mistral Latte with cream?"
"Sure." He didn't jot it down, and probably couldn't with only one arm. "Would you like anything to go with that?"
"A slice of strawberry and chocolate cake, please."
"Not a problem. I'll be right back."
Pyrrha watched as the man went back behind the counter and began to ready her order, navigating his little kitchen unit despite his disability. She appreciated his professionalism, not just in the kitchen but in not acting out when he served her. There were plenty of people who tried to not let her fame bother them, but it wasn't always easy. She respected them more than she did those who squealed or talked at her – not to her, but at her – like she was some kind of icon. Still, he managed it more than most did. It helped her to relax.
Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. A little time and distance away from the stress of Beacon and her team couldn't be a bad thing. Well, as long as no more rabid fans came in, but those in the diner looked to be of the huntsman and huntress persuasion, and they'd always been a little less enamoured with her skills. After all, most of them could probably bend her over backwards before she landed a solid blow on them. She was brilliant for her age, but she was still seventeen. Professional huntsmen were on a different level. With her Semblance she might have been considered the equal of one, but she never liked to use it, at least not in friendly spars. It felt too much like cheating since almost everyone used metal weapons.
It wasn't, of course. Her agent had made that clear time and time again. Everyone used their Semblances against her, so there was no harm in her returning the favour…
It was just that most people's Semblances weren't so much a direct counter as hers. So long as someone wielded a metal weapon, she could ensure they never struck her. It wasn't even a fair fight at that point. It hardly helped that it was an ironic ability at best, the skill to attract cold and unfeeling metal when she couldn't even do the same with other people. And here comes my bad mood again, she thought, sighing. Vale had made her into some sort of misery-guts.
A plate clinking down before her helped alleviate it, and the scent of rich chocolate. "Here you go," the waiter said, placing a saucer down beside it and a mug on top. "I hope you enjoy."
Pyrrha smiled. "I'm sure I wi-"
A shatter of porcelain cut her off, and her head snapped around as she looked for the source. A young woman stared back, eyes wide, and for a second Pyrrha panicked – before she realised the gaze was aimed a little higher, up towards the waiter.
"I'm so sorry," the woman apologised. "It slipped."
"Don't worry about it," the waiter laughed. "I'll come clean it up." He glanced to Pyrrha and winced. "Sorry about that. Enjoy your meal." He rushed off a second later for a broom and a dustpan, but when he brought it to the woman she took it from him and started to do it herself despite his protests. Pyrrha tried not to be too nosey, but they were so close that she couldn't help but listen in.
"You don't need to do that," the waiter said.
"Don't be silly Jaune. You have a broken arm and I'm the one who made this mess. Let me deal with it."
"I'll get you another coffee-"
"Thanks. If you put it on the bill, I'll cover it." The woman looked up when he hesitated, and her eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about making it a free one. This is my fault and I'm not so hard up that I can't afford two cups of coffee." She shooed him away and rolled her eyes.
So, his name was Jaune. It was oddly familiar, though she wasn't sure why. Had someone in Beacon mentioned it before? He busies around behind the counter, made the woman some more coffee, and then apologised as if it were his faulty when he took back the dustpan and brush.
The huntress wouldn't have it, however, and Pyrrha smiled to herself as he was made to accept that the fault was hers. It was a short and funny scene, but it spoke a lot about him, and how much the customers seemed to like him. Several others laughed quietly, but soon the noise was replaced with the dull hum of conversation and the papery sound of someone flicking through the local news.
The cake was delicious and warm, the latte a perfect accompaniment. Pyrrha hummed to herself as she cut into the slice with the side of her fork and leaned forward to taste it, savouring the texture for a long moment before swallowing. It was wonderful. This is the kind of place I always imagined coming to with friends, she thought with a hint of melancholy. Perhaps her ideas of friendship had been tainted a little by TV and misconception, but she could well imagine a team of four huddled around a table laughing, and she among them, no more and no less than any other.
"Is something wrong?" a voice beside her asked.
"Hm?" Pyrrha looked up to the waiter and waved one hand. "No, sorry, everything here is wonderful. I'm just lost in my thoughts."
He nodded. "I tend to do that as well, but that was before I was busy all the time." He looked around the diner to see if anyone needed him. "Nowadays I keep myself distracted. It works."
"Thanks for the advice, but I can't ignore my problems like that." She hadn't meant to sound so snappy, but she did, and he winced. "Not that I'm saying you are-" she tried to say.
"Ah, you're not wrong, though. I… well, you're from Beacon, right?"
"How can you tell?"
"You didn't look confused at the weapons rack." Jaune pointed to the wall where numerous mecha-shift weapons were hung. "Most normal people aren't sure what to make of it but you didn't even notice. You're also around the right age."
"It was a good guess," she said. "I'm a first year."
"Oh, I know a bunch of first years. Do you know Team RWBY?"
The name brought an image to her mind of four girls of varying colours and personalities, each meshed together into a team that honestly seemed the most close-knit of all in Beacon. Weiss Schnee was in there too, a person she'd done her best to avoid ever since the heiress made a bad impression on her. Weiss was happy now, it seemed. She smiled an honest smile unlike the one she'd shared when trying to recruit her for a power-duo. Pyrrha felt a surge of envy but squashed it down. "I know of them but I'm not familiar with them. I don't have all that many friends in Beacon, I'm afraid."
His face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's fine." It wasn't. "What were you saying before?" He saw the attempt to change the subject and indulged her.
"I was asking about Beacon because I wanted to go there too. I had my weapon and everything, but… well…"
"You didn't make it through initiation?" she asked, trying to remember his face. There had been so many people and a lot of them hadn't stood out. Jaune cringed as she inspected him and looked away with a tired sigh.
"Not exactly. I didn't even make it to initiation."
"Oh…" Oh, indeed. Pyrrha sucked some breath between her teeth and wished she could take the thoughtless words back. He'd been rejected before that, even. "I'm… uh… I'm sorry for that. I'm sure you would have passed if you had the chance."
"I doubt that. Anyway, I guess I'm ignoring the problem as well in a way. When I failed to get into Beacon I was too embarrassed to go home and admit my failure, so I opened this place up instead."
"You own this place?"
He nodded proudly. "Yep. Started it less than a month ago." His smile faltered. "I did it because I was too afraid to tell my parents I'd failed. They didn't know I was coming to Vale to be a huntsman, so going back would have exposed me. Mom and Dad never really wanted me in that kind of life."
"But you ran away to try anyway? That takes a lot of courage."
"Or stupidity." he joked, and the smile came easily to her. "Yeah, I definitely wasn't good enough to be a huntsman so maybe this is for the best. I'd have died in initiation for sure."
"I'm sure you would have been okay."
"I… I don't even have my aura unlocked."
The words she'd been about to say died in her mouth. It should have been obvious in hindsight. If he'd had his aura, then his arm might already have healed by now or wouldn't have been broken in the first place. It also gave a dark turn to her thoughts, since if he'd been allowed to attempt the initiation without it, he'd have surely been killed when they were launched off the platforms. He was only alive because the headmaster rejected him.
"Oh, I see," she said, not seeing very much how a man without aura could hope to be a huntsman but feeling that saying it would be rude. "Well, at least things are going well for you now, right?"
He smiled, much to her relief. "They are. Things are awesome now."
"That's grand. See, you didn't need to be a huntsman to be happy."
"I know. That's why I wanted to share the story with you," his smile grew a little. "Whatever is bothering you could be the same thing, you know. Sometimes you need to take a different look at things."
It could be, but it wasn't. Pyrrha's smile held but only because she forced it to. He, Jaune, was trying his best to help her and she recognised that. He really was a nice person. Sadly, she wasn't sure if going through four years of Beacon friendless was a good idea, and she was sure he would have said as much if he knew the full story. Still, his advice was kindly given, so she smiled and nodded.
"Perhaps you're right. Thank you for the advice, Jaune." She finished the final sip of her latte and put the mug down. The coast was almost certainly clear, and she still wanted to have a walk around Vale before it got dark. "Would it be possible for me to have the bill?" she asked, patting her pocket. Her hand froze.
"Sure," Jaune said, oblivious to her panic. "I'll just go grab it."
Pyrrha's hands flew about her person the moment he looked away. It had to be there. Surely not. She couldn't have… Her panic mounted as he reached the counter and began to tally it up, and she shoved a hand so far into her pocket her fingers almost poked out the other side. There was nothing. She'd forgotten her purse.
Her stomach dropped as Jaune returned, and her humiliation burned brightly as she dipped her head and shrink into her seat. "I – um… well, I…"
It wasn't hard for him to see there was a problem. "Is something wrong?"
"I may have… not brought any lien with me." The words were stammered and hesitant and when she saw his eyes widen, she blurted out, "I'm not trying to say I won't pay! I can cover it easily, but I… I was in such a rush that I forgot my purse. I promise I'll bring some back to repay you," she said. "I-If you can wait, that is?"
It had to be one of her most embarrassing moments to date. No fight had ever made her feel so nervous, and if his expression was anything to go by, he felt much the same way. I'm such an idiot. Why did I have to be so distracted today? What kind of moron forgets to bring any lien with them? The worst part was that she wasn't even sure what to do, and obviously neither did Jaune. He'd only been in business for a month at most; this was probably the first time it had ever happened.
"Ah," he said, unsure and lost. "I suppose that's okay? As long as you come back, I mean."
"I will," she assured, nodding quickly. "I promise. My head has been in the clouds all day. I'm not normally so forgetful." She rummaged in her pocket for something to give him but the only thing she had was her scroll and she needed that for getting back to Beacon. An idea came to her at the last second. "You know a team in my year, right? If I don't come back, then you can tell them my name and they'll be able to tell the teachers." It wouldn't come to that, obviously. She had half a mind to run home and come straight back, except that the Bullheads wouldn't run that long. "I'll come back tomorrow with the lien, I promise, but if I don't then your friends could get me in trouble."
"I don't really want that…"
"It won't happen," she said, again relieved for his understanding nature. She definitely would pay, and with a huge tip as an apology, too. Darn it, if this was Mistral then she could have had her Agent wire him money directly. "I'll come back tomorrow. I only mean you could tell them as proof of my honesty. I'll return the moment lessons end."
"I suppose that's okay."
"Really!?"
"Yeah." He scratched his head and glanced away. "You seem pretty honest and I've had nothing but good encounters with Beacon students. I know some of the teachers too, so I'm sure you'd pay if you had your purse with you."
The relief was crushing. Pyrrha almost collapsed then and there but managed a strained smile instead. "I really am sorry," she repeated. "Like I said before, I'm not normally so scatter-brained. I'll bring you the money."
"It's fine, it's fine. You did look like you were lost in thought. At least you didn't run off without paying." His expression became a little more relaxed and he laughed. "I guess this is as weird for you as it is me. I was bound to have someone forget a purse or wallet one day; I just never thought about what I'd do when it happens. Don't worry about it. What's your name, though?" he asked. "It's just so I know how much you owe."
Pyrrha nodded. "Sure, that's fine." She followed him to the counter where he pulled out a little ledger full of details. "It's Pyrrha," she said, and then held the ledger for him when he struggled to write her name one-handed. "Pyrrha Nikos."
"How do I spell that?"
"Like this," she said, spelling her name letter by letter. He nodded and took it down, and then wrote the price of the cake and latte beside it. Pyrrha memorised it and silently promised to bring twice as much to make up for it. "Thank you for this, Jaune. You'll see me tomorrow, I promise."
Some other customers interrupted her as they came up to order, and Pyrrha took the chance to slip out while he was distracted and release a long breath she'd been holding in. That had gone better than she'd expected but still, the embarrassment! She wanted to plant her face in her hands and scream but a few people were already looking her way, many with the tell-tale signs of someone who had seen a familiar face and were currently trying to figure out who it was. She took that as her cue to leave, slipping away before they could realise.
That place was quite nice, she thought, feeling a little cheer return to her now that the misunderstanding was cleared up. Jaune was nice too, and he didn't seem bothered by my fame at all. Heck, it almost felt like he didn't know…
Pyrrha's feet stopped. She glanced back, teeth biting down on her lower lip. He'd asked for her name… and even been unsure how to spell it. Even when she'd given it there'd been no reaction from him, no recognition or even a widening of the eyes. Had he… had he not realised who she was? If so, then when she gave him her name he should have recognised it.
Could he really have no idea who I am? She looked back again, and this time there was no hiding the weak, tentative, smile which spread over her face. It was a longshot. He might have just been polite, or maybe she was desperate. Either way, hope would only make the pain worse if it was shattered. If. A girl didn't become a championship fighter without being willing to take a few risks.
"I'm already coming back tomorrow to pay him. I'll ask him then."
And maybe his advice hadn't been so bad after all. Ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away but she'd come to Vale to find friends, and maybe more. No one said those had to be at Beacon, did they?
Pyrrha smiled the entire way back.
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It was gone eleven when Jaune heard the frantic hammering on his storefront window. He'd been about to turn in for bed but stumbled back into his dressing gown and slippers and staggered to the door. It couldn't have been Roman or Neo, surely. They'd already been and gone – mentioning a job they had in the coming days that they'd be busy on. So busy that they'd be working even later than usual and wouldn't be able to drop by for a while. He'd waved them off not thirty minutes ago, promising to save some ice-cream for when Neo came back.
Could it have been Miltia and Melanie? They were normally awake at this time if the late texts he woke up to on his scroll were any indication, but they knew what days he worked and wouldn't have tried to drag him out on a Monday night. Who even went out on a Monday?
"I'm coming," he called when the pounding got louder. He doubted they could hear him and he cursed as he bumped his toe against the couch. "Hold on!" He reached the door and wrenched it open and hurried down the staircase. His eyes sought out Crocea Mors as he did, still fixed above the entranceway to the diner. He dismissed the thought. If this was something bad they wouldn't knock, and if some criminals hadcome calling, he wouldn't be able to do much about it anyway, sword or not.
It was raining outside, and the windows were covered in droplets that ran down the panes. A dark shape banged a fist on the door once more, but it was just about impossible to make out who it was. All his instincts warned him to do otherwise as he reached for the door and unlatch it, pulling the glass frame open. A wet and bedraggled girl dressed in black and white stood on the other side, hands clutched about her arms and her black hair stuck to the side of her face, soaked through. She shivered lightly and breathed out a pool of mist.
"Blake!?"
"H-Hey Jaune. C-Can I come in?" She shook again, and water dripped from her bangs. "I-It's cold out here."
Cold didn't even begin to describe it. He could feel his bones freezing just by looking at it. He stepped back and allowed her in, lamenting for a moment as water pooled off her and onto his freshly cleaned floor. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
She didn't quite meet his eyes. "C-Can I stay the night?"
He must have heard that wrong. "Excuse me?"
"Just the one night," she said. "I'll sleep on the couch and I won't be a bother. I… I just need somewhere to stay."
"Uh. Sure?" He had a feeling she'd only put herself through worse if he said no. "Why aren't you in Beacon, though? Where's your team?" When she refused to answer, or to meet his eyes, he pressed harder. "What's going on? What are you even doing out here?"
"I'm trying to find something out. It's... not something I can easily explain."
Oh, sure. That wasn't vague at all. He had half a mind to kick her back out again, except that it was just the fatigue talking and he'd never do something like that to anyone who looked as lost as her, even if she wasn't something of a friend and someone who'd helped him out before. Blake hadn't been forced to be a waitress to help him out; she'd volunteered. Now it looked like the shoe was on the other foot. I've got a bad feeling about this.
"Does your team know?" he asked.
"Not exactly…" Blake bit her lip. "Could you maybe keep it that way?"
Yep. A bad feeling. Jaune sighed and gestured to the staircase. "I'll heat up some coffee. We can talk upstairs and you look like you're about to catch a cold." Blake interrupted him with a sneeze. "Or you've already caught one. Get upstairs and get warm. There are some towels in the bathroom."
"T-Thank you," she stammered, and he realised at last that it wasn't fear or embarrassment that made her teeth chatter. "I - achoo! - I won't f-forget this."
"Yeah, yeah." He pushed her towards the stairs and flicked on his cappuccino machine. As she staggered up the stairs with one hand on the railing, he shook his head. He'd never seen Blake look so out of sorts, or anything less than in complete control of herself. He pressed his forehead against the machine and sighed. It was gone eleven and he needed to be up at five for Velvet, and here he was, pouring coffee and preparing for a long talk with an obviously upset girl. What he was even doing trying that with his record, he had no idea.
The nozzle hissed once the drink was done and he took a long sip before he began to pour one for Blake. As the caffeine rushed through his system he bid thoughts of a warm bed and a good night's sleep farewell.
"Here's to a long night..."
Wait, is this… is this actually happening? Is Pyrrha having her moment in a fic of mine? Of course, while I still had a vast amount of support last chapter there were some who felt my making Pyrrha miserable was bashing and nothing else. After all, I'm the author, right? If I wanted her to be happy I could do so easily, right? If a character is unhappy them it's bashing.
It's not like an unhappy character who wants something badly isn't the very crux of a story or anything, right? It's not like it's the very reason a story works. I confirm nothing, of course. Goodness knows confirming pairings has wounded me numerous times in the past, even if I'm still apparently considered a harem writer in some circles. You know, for the zero fics I've written where Jaune actually has a harem. I never really get that, since to me it's perfectly normal for multiple people to like one person. I've had multiple girls like me before and I've liked girls that my friends have also liked. Does that make us all harem protagonists?
Not really. It's just emotions.
Edit: From reviews it seems it's harem if more than one person likes the protagonist, regardless of the views of said protagonist or whether they even consider it to be attraction or just a childish crush that both sides know is unhealthy. I'm not sure if this is fanfiction readers reading every little interaction as love, or believing a woman can't show interest in a man without it being romantic, but there it is. By this argument it is impossible to write a non-Arkos pairing that is not a harem, because unless you greatly change Pyrrha's character - she holds a torch for Jaune. Therefore, no matter what you try, you will have written a harem fic because even if it's a Lancaster, Pyrrha will still like Jaune, and that makes it a harem fic. I suppose by those definitions I have written harem fics, then. Similar in Entertainer when Jaune and Yang were the main pairing, but Pyrrha liked Jaune - even if he knew and didn't return her feelings. That was, by definition of reviews here, a harem fic.
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur