The next day, after finishing all their classes in the afternoon, Ruby, Yang, and Weiss head back to Vale to search for Blake, who has been missing since the previous night.
Meanwhile, Erik and Pyrrha stroll through the grounds of Beacon Academy together. As they walk, Erik begins a preliminary step of gathering information. He observes the academy carefully, noting guarded areas and general security patterns he wants to investigate later. Every so often, he writes short notes in a small notebook he carries with him, all while keeping pace beside Pyrrha and enjoying her company.
Pyrrha notices his attention drifting between their walk and the notebook in his hands. Curiosity sparks in her eyes.
"Erik," she asks gently, "what are you doing?"
Erik pauses his writing and closes the notebook halfway, glancing at Pyrrha with a small, almost sheepish smile.
"Just taking notes," he says lightly. "Nothing exciting."
Pyrrha tilts her head, clearly unconvinced. She slows her steps so he has no choice but to stop with her.
"You don't usually write things down unless they matter," she says. "Are you studying?"
"In a way," Erik replies. He taps the edge of the notebook against his palm before sliding it back into his jacket. "I like to understand places I spend a lot of time in. Paths people take, areas that are guarded, places that are… quiet."
Pyrrha's brows knit together, not in suspicion, but concern.
"Is something wrong with Beacon?" she asks softly.
Erik shakes his head. "No. Beacon is safe."
Then, after a brief pause, he adds more honestly, "I just feel better when I know my surroundings. Old habit."
She studies his face, searching for anything hidden between his words. Whatever she sees there makes her expression soften.
"You don't have to be on guard all the time," she says. "You know that, right?"
He exhales a quiet laugh. "I know. I'm trying."
Pyrrha steps closer, slipping her hand into his without hesitation. Her grip is warm, grounding.
"Then try a little harder," she says with a gentle smile. "Right now, you're just walking with me."
Erik looks down at their joined hands, then back at her. The tension in his shoulders eases, just a bit.
"Alright," he says. "Notebook later."
Pyrrha's smile widens, clearly pleased.
"Good," she says, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Because I was hoping you'd tell me more about that spot near the cliffs you mentioned yesterday."
He chuckles, letting himself be pulled along as they resume walking together.
Pyrrha smile at him. "See? That's way more interesting than taking notes isn't?"
From a distance, Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch observe the interaction between Erik and Pyrrha. Ozpin's expression softens, a faint smile forming as he watches them walk side by side.
"Miss Nikos appears far happier than she was when we first invited her to Beacon," Ozpin says calmly.
Goodwitch folds her arms, her tone measured as ever. "You're right, Professor Ozpin. However, there is something I must ask you."
"Please, Glynda," Ozpin replies.
"Do you truly believe Miss Nikos is capable of bearing the responsibility we intend to place upon her?" Goodwitch asks. "That happiness we see now may be taken from her the moment she accepts it. I can hardly imagine how deeply it would affect her."
Ozpin remains quiet for a moment, putting both of his hand on his cane, his gaze never leaving the two students below.
"Happiness," he says at last, "has always been something Miss Nikos has been denied. She's the kind of person who put everyone else first and herself later."
Goodwitch's eyes narrow slightly. "That does not answer my question."
Ozpin lets out a soft chuckle. "No, it does not. But it explains my concern."
He turns his head just enough to look at her. "Pyrrha has carried expectations far heavier than most Huntsmen and Huntress ever will. She has endured pressure, isolation, and the weight of being 'exceptional' her entire life. Responsibility is not what she lacks."
"Then what is?" Goodwitch asks.
"Choice," Ozpin replies gently. "For the first time, she is choosing something for herself. Not victory. Not duty. But connection she made in here. Especially her special connection that she's been looking for."
Goodwitch watches Pyrrha closely now, her expression conflicted. "And if that connection becomes a weakness?"
Ozpin's smile returns—subtle, knowing. "Or it may become her greatest strength."
He pauses, then adds, "We often forget that Huntsmen are still human. To protect the world, they must first have something worth protecting."
Goodwitch exhales quietly. "You are placing a great deal of faith in that belief."
"I always do," Ozpin says. "Faith, after all, is what keeps us moving forward when certainty fails."
Goodwitch says nothing more. Her eyes linger on Pyrrha and Erik, uncertainty still present—but now tempered by reluctant understanding.
"Speaking of which, Glynda have you found any information about those missing 6 years of Mr Lioren past?"
"Unfortunately, no sir. Its really unbelievable there's really no single record of it."
"Is that so, then very well. We should stop digging hist past and should put more trust on our students. After all, everyone always have secret in their mind."
"Understood."
Erik closes his notebook and slips it back into his pocket, turning fully toward Pyrrha. The courtyard is quiet, washed in warm afternoon light, but Pyrrha barely notices it.
What she notices is the way other students pass by. Too close. Too curious.
Before Erik can take another step, Pyrrha reaches out and takes his hand—firmly this time, fingers lacing with his as if staking a claim. There is no hesitation in the gesture.
He blinks, surprised, then smiles. "You okay?"
"Yes," she answers quickly. Too quickly. She steps closer to him, close enough that their shoulders touch. "I just… prefer it this way."
Erik chuckles softly but doesn't pull away. If anything, he lets his thumb brush over her knuckles.
They start walking again, but Pyrrha keeps him near her side, her grip never loosening. When a group of first-year students glance in Erik's direction, Pyrrha subtly shifts, placing herself just a little more in front of him.
Erik notices.
"Pyrrha," he says gently, "you don't have to guard me."
She stops.
Her hand tightens around his.
"I know," she says, voice low but steady. "But I want to."
He studies her expression—determined, protective, almost fierce. Not the invincible champion. Not the composed heiress of expectation.
Someone afraid of losing what she has just found.
"You're mine," she adds quietly, eyes locking onto his. "And I don't like the idea of anyone forgetting that."
There is no demand in her voice. Just truth.
Erik exhales a small laugh, lifts their joined hands, and presses a kiss to her fingers. "Then I guess I won't forget either."
That's all it takes.
Pyrrha steps into him and wraps her arms around his waist, holding him with unmistakable intent. Not gentle. Not shy. As if letting go is not an option she is willing to consider.
He rests his hands on her back, grounding her. "I'm not going anywhere."
She tilts her head up, searching his face, making sure.
Then she kisses him.
Not rushed—but deep, claiming. Her hand slides up to the back of his neck, keeping him there, as if the world might pull him away if she doesn't. Erik responds just as seriously, one arm tightening around her as he kisses her back.
When they part, Pyrrha doesn't step away.
She stays close. Possessive. Certain.
"Good," she says softly. "Because I don't plan on sharing."
Erik smiles, resting his forehead against hers. "I wouldn't let you."
Petals drift down around them as they stand there, unmoving, wrapped in each other while the academy carries on.
To Be Continued...