Chapter 73

She huffed, pulling her gloves tighter down her wrists. They'd slipped down with all the sweat. Her headband was already soaked through, and her hair was clinging to her forehead like it had been glued down. It was gross.

Really gross.

Back into fighting stance, she thought, hopping on her toes for a second, shaking her arms out. Her left foot fell in line behind her right, her left hand coming up to her face and her right stayed out to defend. Defend against nothing, however. The bag wasn't at risk of suddenly throwing a haymaker. But that was the stance, and she was sticking to it.

"Fuck."

She tapped herself gently on the left cheek with her glove, dabbing a bead of sweat away that was tickling her, flicking it off to the floor. Wasting no more time, she threw the first punch, a quick right jab, blowing a cloud of chalk dust off the surface of the bag she'd used to keep it dry. Punching damp bags wasn't exactly fun. They'd make your hands slip off if you connected at the wrong angle and you were at risk of messing up your wrist and elbow. She'd spent a week in a sling from doing just that.

Being excused from combat classes sucked, but the break was nice enough. Having your teammate fight doubles matches for you and bring you tea so you had something to drink was sweet. She grinned to herself.

The follow-up punch was a hard left, her whole body turning into the swing as she pushed off with her left leg. She took the wind out of the bag, nearly bending it in half, as it loudly clattered its chain that suspended it from the ceiling. She bounced back into position, and immediately sent another sharp left into the upper half of the bag. It swayed back and forth as she sent two harsh rights across the front.

Her step back put her in a good position for a solid kick. Without hesitation, she lined up and rotated her body, sending a violently powerful kick into the side of the bag with her right foot. The palm of her foot stung briefly as the vinyl surface bit back hard against her skin, but she pushed through. Another hop sideways, around to the side of the bag.

She spun, jumping off the ground and twisting her hips, driving the top of her right foot into the face of the bag. The sound reverberated through the room with a loud clap, swinging the bag almost all the way ninety degrees up. She landed back on her right foot, settled her left and sent another barrage of punches into the offending surface.

She was mad.

She didn't understand.

It didn't make sense.

She was stronger. Stronger than he was. She was maxing out at over nine-hundred on the bench, could run a full marathon before feeling out of breath, had the second-highest scores in combat class after Pyrrha, and had even made Professor Goodwitch tap out on the mat, something the other students never could.

She'd devoted her life to training. To getting stronger. But it wasn't working.

She lined up another solid left hook, shaking the bag to its very core. Had it been a person or Grimm there'd have been severe internal hemorrhaging, massive bone fractures, and quite likely death from that impact. This didn't satisfy her enough. She hopped backwards, her legs spread wide. Remembering a move she saw on the internet performed by a professional kickboxing champion, she wondered if she had the skill or rotational torque to try it. The four-hit combo. She rolled out the crick in her neck.

Taking a running start from a few steps back, she jumped into the air and twisted as hard as she could. She could do a triple twist on a trampoline or springboard, sure. Once on her skates, too. She'd just never tried it off the floor with no assistance. Now or never, then, she thought. As her feet left the ground, her arms came in, accelerating the counter-clockwise spin so she couldn't quite see anymore. The bag became a dull blur, but it was within range. Her left foot hit first, then her right. As her body rotated, she pulled her arms tighter together to conserve as much energy as possible. Her ponytail was probably expelling some of that force, but hopefully not too much. Her body had started a lean, about forty-five degrees off of vertical now as she came around again.

Tighter, she willed herself.

Her abdomen flexed, keeping her legs in line and her body from folding in half. She was dead tired. But not dead yet. Her right foot hit the bag again, and her left followed closely behind, making her lean all the way horizontal. With a strong twist of her hips, she finished off the flip and landed back on her feet with a heavy thud. She seethed.

"Fuck!"

With a jump forward, she landed one final left blow on the bag. That was more than it could handle. The chain holding it to the ceiling snapped, and it sailed across the gym, landing with a resounding poof against the wall right next to the exit door. Where her sister had been standing, actually. Watching her with her arms crossed.

"Holy hell, baby sis. Hit it hard enough, you think?"

She panted, her hands, legs, chest, and mind aching. Her sister caught a glare, uncrossing those arms.

"Are you alright?"

No, she was most certainly not.

"Fight me."

"E-excuse me?"

She stood up all the way and walked to the edge of the mat.

"Take your shoes off," she demanded, pointing at the black and blue vinyl surface. "and spar with me."

Her sister hesitated for a moment. But she complied with a concerned look.

"Alright, but you don't have to be so upset about it."

The boots came off, the purple socks too. God, those socks were awful to look at. They didn't match anything, and her sister's insistence on wearing them was just as annoying. Couldn't she see in the mirror? She pulled at the gloves, stripping them off and tossing them aside.

"What, no gloves?" her sister asked. She shook her head.

"No gloves in class, no gloves in here."

A shrug. "Alright. Your rules, sis."

"Attack me."

"Wait, what?"

She stepped forward, not even getting in to a defensive stance. This wasn't the time for disobedience.

"I said, attack me. Or can't you hear so well?"

"What are you-"

There was no time for this. She put her hands right to her sister's chest and shoved. Back she went, falling to the floor. Any normal person would have landed on their back and skidded to a stop, flopping around like a fish first. But not her sister. She landed on her back, and very easily rolled over her left shoulder and pushed back up standing with her right arm. She looked shocked and a little insulted. This was good.

"What the hell was that for?"

"I said fight me."

She pushed her down again. This was too easy. There was no challenge. This time, her sister didn't roll back up, but landed already coiled on her hands and sprung back up, a fist ready for a solid hit. Not solid enough. She side-stepped, grabbing the incoming right hook by the wrist with her left hand and forced it to follow through off-centre, sending her sister tumbling back down to the mat ten feet away.

"Come on! You call that a shot?"

She struggled to her feet. Her warm look from earlier had turned to a very angry one. She knew that the look was usually reserved for people who pissed her off, and that was exactly what she was trying to get to happen. A little bit of anger. Maybe that would release the semblance.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't realize you were so weak."

"That fucking does it. You asked for this."

With a yell, the air around her ignited. That blazing flame that licked around her whole body was enough to send shivers down most spines, but not hers. She was waiting for it. The raw, unrestrained power. Her sister dashed forward and jumped into the air, winding her right arm back and lining up a punch straight for her face. She didn't even blink, just waited. This move was so obvious and projected it would take an idiot to be struck by it. The shot may have been obvious, yes, but it carried enough kinetic energy that she needed only to hit the ground around the opponent to send them and anything in a five-metre radius flying backwards with tremendous speed. She'd seen her sister punch a broken-down school bus across a wrecking yard one summer when they were out training. This kind of punch would be lethal to anyone without a protective aura. But she waited for it. Moments before impact, she moved.

Her left hand came up as the punch came around, and caught the fist. She wasn't displaced even an inch as a hundred thousand kilograms of force slammed into her hand and were wasted in an instant. The flames went out as her sister crumpled to the ground in front of her. She was quick to roll over and sit up.

"What the fuck was that? What the fuck are you?"

Tears had started to stream down her face. She yelled downward at her sister.

"Why am I not strong enough?!"

"What are you talking about?"

She looked at her hand, red and sore from the impact.

"Why am I not! Strong! Enough!" she screamed again.

She didn't understand. She could take and deal the most damage out of anyone she knew. She could take impacts that would level buildings. She could then lift the building back up again. She didn't understand why she felt so powerless. So weak. So small.

"Aaaargh!"

She turned and ran off, back to the hallway outside of the gym. The heavy steel door was no obstacle to her as she mashed through it, leaving a fist-shaped indent in the surface. She grabbed her shoes out from under the bench beneath the bulletin board and threw them on, picking up her coat from the hook next to it. If she was anything, she was furious.

Having blasted the doors to the gym complex open as well, she angry-marched across the grounds towards the parking lot. She had some place to be. Maybe Junior's for a drink. He'd let her stay over in one of the VIP rooms if she needed it. She just knew that she needed to get off campus. For a while.

There were a few people out on the grounds but not many, mostly congregated around the fountain on the benches, reading or whatnot. There was midterms for the younger year classes starting up the following week, but being in fourth year meant no more midterms, only finals and missions. So she didn't need to be studying. She was too angry to study. To angry to see where she was going, too, as when she blew through the door to the welcome centre, she very nearly blew her teammate off her feet and onto the hard tile floor.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" she said in a mock-angry tone, a smile tickling her lips.

"Fuck off. I'm not in the mood."

She left her teammate standing there, her face as white as her hair and a shocked gasp stuck somewhere in her throat. She brushed her off, forcing herself around the help desk, knocking over a cup full of pens that sat on the high shelf on the back of the circular cubicle. Much to the chagrin of the miserable old woman behind the desk. What did she care anyways. She didn't understand. The air in the tiny welcome centre went stale as she left, officially off the campus grounds.

When the sunlight in the parking lot hit her face, she winced, breathing heavily through her teeth. It burned. The harsh, October air burned. Even though it was still warm out. It burned. It burned with an anger that she couldn't place, with a malice that felt disconnected, and with such a deep-rooted sorrow that she could barely breathe, let alone process it. Her heart heaved as tears streamed down her face, washing shame down her cheeks and washing fear into her core. She hated herself. She was a monster. Attacking her sister. Swearing at her partner. And for what? She didn't feel strong. Was this what he did to her? Made her evil?

Her tunnelled mind seemed to agree, shouting profanities at her as she crossed the pavement to the little row of trees where she had parked. But there was still an obstacle in her way. In the form of four of the school's most loathsome boys. Team CRDL. God, how she despised them. So arrogant, so rude. They were a different kind bad time. Blatant misogynists, horrible racists. And above all else, so inane in their bullying that it almost pleased her to see it happening. Because it meant she could stop it. And it meant she could use force.

Today's target was one Velvet Scarletina, the resident rabbit faunus who'd stayed behind a year for a few pre-med courses after her and her team had officially graduated as licensed Huntsmen a few months prior. But that somehow hadn't sunk in to the moronic quartet, who continued to pester the poor woman, pulling on her ears. Had they not learned? Was this not tiresome for them yet?

"Hey!" she yelled, grabbing their attention. Dove and Sky stopped their ear-pulling for a moment and looked over. Her vision focused on the two of them, ignoring Cardin and Russel, who were standing to the side. Out of the line of fire, as it turned out. "Fuckers!"

She dashed forward, picking up a blinding speed. The cars in the parking lot, the trees alongside, the streetlamps all became a blur in her vision as she accelerated towards the two boys at the centre of it all. Dove let go of Velvet's ear and stepped slightly back. Sky, however, did not. This was his first mistake. She barrelled into him like a runaway freight train, lifting his body off the ground with her hands around his neck. She tightened as they fell to the ground. She landed on him knees-first, pinning his arms outstretched to he couldn't move or grab at her. The grey-mulleted boy was completely at her mercy. Which she was by no means going to give him.

"How dare you!" she screamed into his face. "Attacking someone like that? Why don't you pick on someone your own size? Someone who can defend themselves fairly!?"

"What, like you?" Russel asked, safely out of harm's way. She turned her angry gaze over to him, not letting up on Sky's neck for even a second. She watched the look actually hit Russel and make him shiver and take a real step back.

"Yeah, why not me? Am I not small, insignificant and weak to you too?!" She screamed at him. "Move an inch forward and I'll snap his neck, Thrush."

"Hey, sweetheart, for god's sake, don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Cardin asked, a confusing tone of remorse and softness in his voice. "You're turning his face blue!"

"Harsh?!" she yelled as she looked back down at poor Sky. His face was indeed starting to turn blue as he desperately tried to breathe. His fast-depleting aura was keeping him alive, but barely. He was bearing witness to his own choking-out. It must have been horrifying. "I'll show you harsh! I'll show you what it's like to have your power taken away! Your freedom! What it's like to be trapped in your own skin!"

She launched her left fist into Sky's face, easily breaking his nose with a sharp crack. If he had been breathing, he would have likely choked on his own blood. But since she had his trachea in a vice-grip, it just pooled out the front and down the sides of his face. Teardrops fell from her face and landed on his. She was just so. Otherworldly. Angry.

"Hey, woah, take it easy, killer." Cardin said, suddenly over her shoulder. He placed his hands on each of her shoulders, as if to reassure her. For a man who's teammate was literally being murdered right in front of him, he was surprisingly calm. "You don't have to worry, they're just-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. She caught his throat with one hand.

"Cardin." she said, pulling his head down so it was right next to hers.

"Y-yeah?" he struggled out.

"Go fuck yourself."

She flexed her arm and tossed him one-handed back over at Russel and Dove, knocking the two of them over and into a pile of groaning and complaining as the six-foot-eight and three-hundred-pound Cardin Winchester flattened his two smaller teammates. There was a crack, followed by a sharp yelp as the weight of Cardin's falling body snapped one of Russel's wrists like a twig. She didn't care. She just looked back down at Sky, and brought her face so close to his that their noses almost touched. Her crying reflection in his watering eyes was pretty ugly in her opinion.

"Don't you ever..." she whispered. "...make someone feel like they are trapped again. Or I will find you. And I won't be doing this next time."

She released her hands from his neck. With a massive inhale, the colour returned to his face, and he coughed the drying blood up onto his shirt. She stood up, releasing his arms which went straight to his own neck, caressing the bruised purple flesh she had given him. He coughed hard and continuously for a few moments as she stepped off of him. He rolled over, his back to her as he slowly reclaimed his life. She looked down at her hands. She turned to Cardin, who had slowly gotten back to his feet with little regard for the comfort of his teammates, using Dove's face as a hand-hold.

"Why am I so weak? Why can't I do anything when he touches me?" she said quietly to herself. She turned back to Sky, convulsing on the ground. "I hate you."

She'd said it more to herself than to Sky, but she made sure that enough of the force behind it that he cowered further into himself on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Vel. I showed up too late. They boys will do better next time." Cardin said, off to her right. She was confused by his use of words. Why was he apologizing? Didn't he bully her? Ah, it didn't matter. She stormed off, towards her car.

There it sat, under the canopy of trees at the back of the lot, the little faded red RRS sedan politely parked between the lines next to her sister's motorcycle, her partner's crystal white Klasse-G SUV, and her teammate's retired police car, the takedowns folded back against the a-pillars. Her car's flip-up headlights were folded away, the cheap parts store rims dinged from a few interviews with the curb of the super-tight drive-thru lane at the McAlbert's down the street. She yanked the permanently unlocked door open and fell in, her butt bouncing in the ripped beige interior that was equal parts candy wrappers and weapon parts scattered about. The keys fell out of the sun visor, and she jingled them into place. She matted the clutch and cranked the motor into life. It barked at her as she ground the transmission into reverse.

She backed out of her spot with force, whipping the wheel around and skidding to a stop. She slammed the gear stick back into first and matted her foot into the accelerator and dumped the clutch, leaving two long black streaks as the car's little twin cam engine tried to melt the front tires.

"Fuck this shit."

She left the parking lot, and fired off towards the city.

/.../

The streets and signs had melded into one large puddle of angry as she weaved in and out of traffic. Junior's bar was just a few blocks down the road. She could see the large neon sign down at the end of the street, glowing down at street even though it was the middle of the day. Man, those lights were powerful. She slid her car to a stop at the red light that had appeared in front of her. She sniffled, and looked away, simply to not have to focus on the one thing that was so obvious. So instead, her eye caught a church sign, on her side of the street just through the intersection. Christ Le Roi de la Baptiste. Her vision narrowed. She hadn't been to church in a long, long time. Probably not since before her mother died. She was devoutly religious, and made the four of them all go with her, every Sunday at eight in the morning. But that was at St. Patrique back in Patch. This was a baptist church nonetheless.

Maybe she ought to go in.

The answers she was looking for weren't at the bottom of a row of shot glasses, for sure. She knew that. But they weren't at the bottom of a glass of milk, either. Perhaps a modicum of divine intervention might be of need at this point. She was tired of being angry. She was tired of being tired. As the light went green, instead of racing down the street to Junior's, she very slowly pulled through the intersection, and crossed over to the parking lane against the curb. She pulled up, making sure to be ahead of the sign that claimed she couldn't park behind it lest she reap a one hundred lien fine, and turned her car off. She sat for a second and rubbed her eyes raw.

"Fuck..."

She sniffled. This seemed like an overreaction to her, but an overreaction was better than no reaction at all. She got out of her car, taking her keys with her this time and walked around to the meter. She fumbled around in her pocket for a moment, taking out two quarters and slotting them in the worn-out and scratched parking meter. The little digital display cycled twice, and read off a little countdown timer. It claimed she had one hour remaining. She sighed. She hoped that would be all she needed. She approached the front steps, climbing the heavy concrete with just as heavy feet.

The massive and ornate wooden door was an imposingly tall nine feet up, the dark brown Gothic structure having heavy brass handles tarnished with probably two hundred years of loyal sermon-goers pulling them open every day. She sighed, reading the bronzed 'All of god's children are welcome' sign in both official languages next to the door frame. She reached out and grabbed the door handle, and pushed her way inside.

The air in the church was a lot cooler than the outside, and she shivered, wanting to zip her coat up. But she couldn't, since she'd broken the zipper a little while ago and never bothered to fix it. It was a cheap coat anyways, not worth fixing. But not even worth replacing. Nobody was in the church today, save for one elderly gentleman sitting in a pew way up at the front, his bible open and his glasses way down at the end of his nose. All the pews seemed like they'd just been varnished, as they reflected the sunlight that was beaming in through the ancient stained glass windows. The modern convenience of air conditioning was nice, but the cold breeze ended as soon as she left the little antichamber just inside the doors and entered the church's enormous main room. Above her head sat the array of huge pipes of the organ that sat just to her left against the wall. They glistened in the light as well.

But she wasn't here to play this piece of musical history. She was here for an answer. Or two. She wasn't sure to what question, just yet. She crossed the church slowly to the far right wall, passing the old man who was quietly whispering something to himself, likely some scripture in an older version of the good book he still had from his boyhood. She turned away, and passed through a short arch and into a tiny hallway with a curtain at the end. There was a little brass plaque next to the curtain. Confession. She entered, sitting down in the dim stall and sliding the curtain closed. She let out a long, slow breath, and brought her hands together. Her eyes closed.

"F-forgive me, father, for I have sinned."

"Really, my child? You don't sound so convinced."

His voice came back through the mesh window, soft and elderly with the inflection of someone with a forked tongue. A faunus, then. She sighed, condemning her forehead to her knuckles.

"I-I guess I've done some bad things."

"We all have. It's part of being human."

She sniffled.

"I really did, though. I attacked a classmate."

"Unprovoked?"

"He was- him and his crew were bullying someone. For being different."

"A faunus."

"That obvious, huh."

"Bigotry is a sin. Of sorts. That sounds like you did the right thing. Standing up for someone-"

"I put him to the ground. I hit him. Held him down. I could have snapped his neck like a twig. I'm so angry. I didn't think."

There was a momentary pause, the sound of a page flipping.

"Violence isn't an answer, no of course not. But, and since I'll assume that you were at school, there were four people bullying this one person, and you knew you needed to make a statement to get your point across."

"But I shouldn't have attacked him."

"No. But that's not a sin, my child."

"I almost did the same to my sister. Said some mean things to my best friend."

"I... sense there might be an underlying issue."

More than an issue.

"Yeah."

"This is a place of the lord. Anything you say, he will keep to himself."

"What about you?"

"I will also keep to myself. That was kind of my point."

She smirked, but not with any happiness or joy behind it.

"Alright..."

She waited, hoping her brain would pull through and speak for her. It didn't happen. So she had to actually open her mouth and use her words.

"Is is a sin to love a girl?"

The priest on the other side of the mesh took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Another page turned. There might have only been ten seconds between her question and his answer, but it felt longer. Hours longer.

"No, it is not."

"But I thought... the whole... if a man lies with a man..."

"The Bible is pretty strict on its rules. And also very vulgar and graphic when it comes to what is and isn't allowed. The book states that If a man lies with a man as he would with a woman, he is to be stoned."

"Yeah?"

"Doesn't say to death."

"But I thought..."

"If one wears cloth made of threads not the same, they are to be executed in the town square, the town is to bear witness."

"...What?"

"If a person wishes to work on the sabbath, the holy day of our lord, he shall be put to death the day following, his body and soul cast to darkness. For eternity."

"I-"

"This is by no means the worst. Are you sitting down, my child?"

"D- yeah?"

"If a woman lays with a man after she bleeds her first, she shall be stoned to death by the town, with one stone for every day she is after. If that woman bears child after this time and is not stoned, the child is to be taken and boiled alive until dead, and the woman is to be crucified for her heretical crimes against our lord, bless him in heaven."

She didn't say anything. Her mouth hung open.

"I believe that is fairly clear and frankly totally messed up message on whether or not stoning is to the death or not, would you not agree?"

"I... guess?"

"The ambiguity with the text you mention is left to my interpretation, as 'not recommended, but not a sin'. In the days before modern medicine, how would you treat AIDS? HIV? Hepatitis?"

"I suppose you couldn't."

"I believe it was preemptive measures to limit the spread of incurable disease. But that is merely my opinion. The lord is clear when he wants someone put to death."

"So it's not a sin if I... if a girl wants to love another girl."

"That's correct."

She thought this over for a moment. Her heart sank. Why was she even here. She didn't want to be here. Or anywhere, for that matter. She wanted to be far away, in a castle by herself where no one could reach her, hear her scream, hurt her. Anything. She wanted to be alone.

"I have... one more question."

"Yes, my child."

She exhaled, squeezing her eyes shut. Harder than they would go. It burned.

"Is it a sin to rape someone?"

A pause.

"Yes. It's also a felony."

"Oh."

She waited to see if he would say anything else. His tone said he was keeping quiet out of respect for her.

"What about being raped."

A significantly longer pause this time. No page turning sounds, either. He knew the answer, she figured. He just didn't know what to say.

"No."

"Oh."

"It's a crime against god to do that. Thou shall not covet thy neighbour. Obviously not a direct meaning, but it should be there. It's also a crime in general. Rapists belong in prison, and for good."

"Oh."

"My child, it's not my place to ask or pry, but... did someone... abuse you?"

She shut her eyes. A tear squeezed out and ran down her cheek. God, she was a mess. Crying in church. That was reserved for weddings and funerals, right? Not Tuesdays.

"Yeah."

"A classmate?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"I thought he was my friend."

"You should go to the police, not to church."

"Yeah but then there'll be an investigation, and then he'll be arrested, and then-"

"You should go to the police."

Preachers weren't supposed to advise anything except answers from the lord, right? This didn't make sense in her head. Weren't there some amount of Hail Mary's, hymns, or holy scriptures she could site instead?

"But that would ruin his chances of becoming a Huntsman."

"Why does that matter to you?"

"I don't... I don't know. What are my friends and classmates gonna think if Jaune suddenly stops co-"

She paused, realizing she'd revealed his name. But, he'd promised this would be between her and the lord, his honest confidence assured. If she even could confide in him, real or not.

"...If he suddenly stops coming to class? What then?"

"Tell the truth. People are willing to help you if you're honest with them."

"I just... I live with my sister, and my two best friends who would literally lay down their lives for me in combat, and they'd also lay down someone else's if they thought they needed to. If I told them the truth, he'd be nailed to a cross just like the big man in the other room."

"Would that not be suitable punishment?"

"No. Pyrrha's all in love with him now and I don't want to take away her happiness. She's not... in any condition to be choosy with her love life. She won't be around much longer. The Big C, and all that comes with it."

"I understand."

"She's helped me in the past, though. Keeping him away from me. My roommate, too. She's been nice enough to help me with b-birth control on her parents' insurance so that my dad doesn't find out. Not that I've needed it in like two years, though."

She could hear the preacher sniffle, licking his finger to turn a page in whatever he was reading on his side of the mesh divider.

"So it's been a while, then."

"...yeah."

"And you still have to see him every day."

"Since Ren left for Mistral, he's mostly ignored me. I still have to see him though. And I feel weak when he's around."

"Your underlying issue is you feel weak."

"Not just feel, I am weak."

"Being a champion fighter and taking on four bullies at once is not something a weak person would be capable of, my child."

She pressed her face into her hands.

"I don't understand. I train so much. I'm undefeated in class, I once maxed on the bench at twelve hundred pounds just to show that I could, and I beat the goddamn training instructor, something no one has done ever in the twelve years she's been teaching. And somehow I can't move when he touches me."

"I would normally ask you to not take the lord's name in vain in the lord's house, but an exception can be made."

She cried.

"Why can't I do anything about him?" she raised her voice. His stayed level and poignant.

"Not shame."

"It feels like it."

"There are bad people in this world. Some of those bad people have other ways of getting what they want, aside from paying or careful persuasion. And not with force, either."

"How?"

"Power. I may be but a lowly preacher, but I have studied the enhanced. Those gifted with the power of god, like yourself and your classmates."

Not the power of god singular, she thought, rather the gods plural. Or so she'd been told by her world religions teacher. However they got their semblances didn't matter anymore, though.

"I believe your lack of strength doesn't come from shame, my child. But from his touch directly."

She shook her head.

"I don't get it."

He sighed.

"I wish you could. I wish you would tell someone close to you about this problem. Someone more qualified than I to assist you. I'm just here to guide you to the answers, not tell them to you. You'd be wise to talk to your sister."

"I can't. She'd kill him."

"Violence isn't everybody's answer, my child. She cares for you first, as do all siblings, regardless of how much they say they don't."

"Oh."

"Go to someone. Seek help. Or you will be trapped forever. You may not be able to get yourself free. But someone else can."

She didn't believe him. She got up and left without saying goodbye.

Still crying.

/.../

"Ruby..."

Her eyes opened. The living room rug was rough on her butt, and the sweat pouring from her pores was soaking her hair and beading down around her face. She looked to Ren, who had both hers and Yang's wrists in his hands.

"...I didn't know..."

Her sister's face was a wash of discoloration. Trapped between ludicrously angry and perfect monochromatic calm that seemed to flicker back and forth.

"...That he did this to you."

She looked to Ren instead. And by golly was he struggling. Ren's completely overpowered semblance was near it's breaking point. The man who could mask the emotions of an entire military platoon without even waking up from a nap was in full on panic mode. His body was shaking, his suit jacket stripped off and on the couch, his dress shirt unbuttoned and soaked through with sweat. Every muscle in his body was tensed, trying to hold in the emotional weapon of mass destruction that was her sister.

"Ren?" she asked. "What's happening?"

"I can barely h- hold this, Ruby." He strained his voice, gritting his teeth. "She's too far gone. I've never-"

He gasped. She realized that her wrist had gone numb from the effort he was cranking down on it with.

"Oh my god, she's mad. Every thought in her mind is about murder."

Ruby shook her head. "I knew she'd do this. I didn't want to tell her."

"It's better that you did." he said through his teeth, letting her wrist go and grabbing Yang's with both hands. "I can sense your... re-relief."

"Ren, she's gonna kill you in a minute!"

He flashed her a look.

"I got this. I can handle it."

With a mighty yell, his eyes turned bright red, and every ounce of colour drained from the room and every person in it. The world went quiet. Everything was... calm. It was... tranquil.

There was no more anger.

"R-Ruby..." Yang muttered to her, her grey eyes perfectly relaxed.

"Yang..." she tried, feeling the heaviest weight in the entire universe lift from her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I'm sorry I didn't make myself available to you when you were upset."

"I'm sorry for not trusting you with this."

To her surprise, a smile.

"Bad things happen. I'm glad you could come to me with yours, even though it's late."

"I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have. But I understand why you didn't. You were afraid of me."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, kiddo. It's alright."

The world had lost feeling. There was scarcely anything more than just their voices left.

"It's not. I hurt everybody."

"Because somebody hurt you first."

"I didn't want to."

"I know."

"Why did it have to happen?"

"He was evil. Self-centred. Misogynistic. Probably twisted from before. I never noticed because he stayed out of my way. I didn't notice when he got in yours, though, and for that I'm sorry. I should have been more attentive to you, Ruby."

"But I'm not a little kid."

"No. No, you're not. But I still feel the need to love you like my little sister. I saw you getting tougher and I backed off, leaving you alone because I felt unneeded. But that was my own doing. I'm sorry for abandoning you."

"You didn't."

"I kind of did. I left you with Weiss and Blake, and then you left them. I should have noticed that pattern. I was trying to let you grow up on your own. I didn't know why."

She sighed. Ruby sighed, too.

"I'm sorry, Yang. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Nobody ever means to get raped, Ruby."

"I didn't mean to become so self-destructive."

"Nobody means to hurt. Nobody means to suffer. It happens."

"I suffered."

"I know."

"Alone."

"I wish you hadn't."

Yang was crying. She was crying. Ruby reached forward and let her head fall against her sister's.

"I'm sorry."

Yang stroked the back of her head, combing her hair with her fingers. Ruby sniffled.

"Come. Sit. Shhhh..."

She grabbed her by the hip, and gently pulled her closer. Ruby let herself get pulled in, slinging her leg over Yang's lap and wrapping herself around her. She sniffled into Yang's chest, cuddling into the soft warmness.

"I'm a bad sister. I'm a bad pers-"

"Shh. No. You're not. Honey, you're not. It's not your fault. It's never going to be your fault."

"O-okay. I'm sorry."

The soft stroking of her hair was calming. She'd come way down from the edge at this point, her breathing having returned to normal. She exhaled, taking in the sweet smell of Yang's shampoo. Vanilla, this time. It made her want cookies.

"Don't apologize anymore. You're not the one who has to be sorry."

"I know. But I feel like I did something wrong. To you."

"You did a little, but I already forgave you."

Even the eeriness of the room's lack of colour, and indeed her sister's as well, Ruby was very much at ease. Her head still hurt from the crying, and she still felt the shame in her chest, but she felt okay. Okay with Yang. Even Ren's tight grip on her wrist was okay. It was all... serene.

"What do I do now?"

"We figure out how to make you better. You've had a lot of bad things happen to you, honey, and I want to make all of them better. No, I'm going to make all of them better."

"How?"

Yang pulled her closer. Any more and she'd be suffocated by the two very warm softnesses she was enjoying. In an appropriate way, of course. Yang was her sister.

"Well, I can't do anything about your scar, you're gonna live with that forever. Unless you wanna get cool matching thorax tattoos to cover it up."

"Nah, that's okay."

"You sure? We could have some cool dragons or whatever?"

Ruby, for the first time in a little while, smiled.

"Maybe little ones. But not over the scar. I know I have to keep that."

"You're doing better with that I noticed. I'm proud of you."

"I'm not at risk of wearing crop tops just yet, though."

Yang kissed the top of her head.

"Didn't think so. They don't look so good on girls like us anyways."

"What, with abs?"

Yang chuckled and kissed her head again.

"No, stocky and muscular. Better look on Blake, or Weiss. Much narrower bodies."

"I don't think Weiss would ever wear a crop top."

They mused in the moment, thinking about the wealthy woman in revealing attire. Not a good look for someone who always wore pant suits and long coats. Come to think of it, Ruby realized that outside of school and the mildly slutty uniforms, she'd barely seen Weiss's legs, let alone her midriff. The week in the car not withstanding, of course. Yangs sighed into her cheek, breaking the little mood.

"I'm sorry that so many bad things happened to you, honey."

Ruby shrugged.

"Nothing I can do about most of it."

"I know. Mom, your scar, Pyrrha, this bullshit. You've had it rough. I'm sorry."

"Yeah..."

"I wish I knew how to make it all better with just one wave of a wand or whatever."

"Me too."

"Hey, popsicles are vaguely wand-shaped. You want one of those?"

Ruby smiled into her sister's chest.

"Thanks, Yang, but I'm good. I don't want to ruin my dinner."

"Be our little secret."

"And Ren's." She pointed out, flicking her hair over to the man who was still sweating bullets, trying to contain Yang's inevitable and uncontrollable anger. Her sister's tone shifted.

"Yeah, his too. Although he doesn't seem the type to snitch. About anything."

"Are you mad at him for not telling you?"

"Him, Blake, and Pyrrha, but I'll let bygones be bygones. Can't change the past. Not like Blake even makes an effort to call me anymore."

"I can get her to, if you want."

"Nah, it's fine, baby. All that's important now is making you feel better, not me."

"Wait, when Ren lets you go, are you gonna be angry?"

"I am. But I can't not be angry. He hurt you, and I can't just sit here and let it slide, hun."

"Oh."

"But I'm not going to let those three months define you. I promise I won't go after him, if that's what you're worried about."

"I-I was, kinda."

Yang shook her head, brushing her face with some of the long, beautiful blond locks.

"No, going after him would be childish. And impulsive. And probably illegal, with what I want to do to him."

"What's that?"

"It involves my fist, and since I don't want you exposed to any graphic content, I won't say any more."

"I-I see."

"But I don't recommend going after him. Not you, not me, not anyone. It's not smart."

She bit her lip. Uh oh.

Well, this has gone well, hasn't it?

Sure, if you wanted to call this 'going well'.

"It's... not?"

Yang pulled back and looked her up and down, her face contorting.

"Ruby, what did you do?"

She shrugged, sheepishly.

"I-I... asked Ren to help me out. And he said he'd send someone to deal with him."

Even through the might of Ren's semblance, Yang turned her head and glared at the top of his head with enough force to melt his very flesh.

"You sent mercenaries?!"

"No, he said he talked to his one of his old friends!" She tried to clarify. Granted, he'd never given her a name or billing address or anything to go on. Yang flipped the look back over to her.

"Ruby, that always means mercenaries! God, you guys! Ugh! No!"

Her head lolled back and she stared at the ceiling.

"Poopy. Well... ugh... I wish you hadn't done that."

Yang rarely swore. She used to, quite heavily back at school, but had stopped near the end of fourth year. She'd felt bad about swearing at Ruby that day, and had since promised never to do it again. She never wanted Ruby to look at her the way she had ever again. But today, it seemed appropriate.

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Yang."

"No, it's... ugh, whatever. You've got a plan, right?"

"It's his plan, actually."

"God, I fucking hate you, Ren. You might be pretty, but fuck you're stupid."

With a huff, he finally looked back up at them. The strain in his face was ever prevalent.

"Don't... worry." he panted. "She's not... gonna kill him."

"She?" Yang questioned.

"I have... a plan."

"You better."

"I... prom...mise..." he strained, as Yang by no means made it easy for him. She turned away from him and pulled Ruby back against her chest.

"You can let go now, Ren."

"But Yang, you're gonna be mad if he does."

She nodded.

"I know. I'm prepared for it. I'm always gonna be mad about it, Ruby. I'm always going to be upset, be hurt, feel shame, feel anguish."

A hand rubbed gently at the back of her head.

"But that's one of my flaws, you know. Being human."

"Okay. I trust you."

"Thank you, Ruby. Ren?"

With a heavy sigh as he released every muscle in his body, he finally let go of her wrist. The colour flooded back into the room like a wave of warmth that washed over everything. Ren flopped over onto the floor, his chest heaving and his breath coming out in ragged bursts. He was down for the count. And the second round, if honest. The whole of his aura, spent on keeping Yang from detonating like a small thermal explosive. Although, Ruby was quickly realizing that the warmth of the colour returning to the room was actually her sister.

Who'd caught fire.

Her hair was glowing yellow, as it normally did when she lost her temper. Her eyes, the usual matching scarlet red. Ruby let go and scooted backwards on the couch, trying to avoid being burned. Or having her not-fireproofed clothes burnt off. She had to pat off her chest, as the front of her coveralls had started to singe. And burning denim wasn't exactly the nicest smell in the world.

"Yang?"

"It's fine, baby. I'm just angry. I'll get over myself in a minute."

She paused and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, the flames subsided substantially, becoming a slow ember that encapsulated just the top of her head, her little cowlick posing like a candle wick She opened her eyes, revealing her eyes that had faded to a medium pink, somewhere between harsh red and soft purple. Very pretty, in her opinion, despite the fact that she still couldn't get over seeing her sister combusting.

"There. Not great, but better."

"Oh."

"I have an idea, honey."

"What's that?"

Yang stood, brushing off her lap. She extended her hand, which Ruby took.

"Let's go for a visit."

"O-okay."

Ruby let herself be pulled to her feet. They left for the kitchen, stepping carefully over Ren's nearly unconscious body.

"Hey, buddy, there's water in the fridge if you want some."

His arm came up with a loose thumbs up. It flopped back down loudly against the living room floor. Yang chuckled down at him.

"We'll be back in a bit. C'mon, kiddo."

"Bye, Ren!"

They departed, stepping through the kitchen and out through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Their dad was across the yard, pushing the dirty old police cruiser down the driveway and into the big garage out behind the house. A sudden wave of disappointment in herself washed over Ruby as she realized that she'd left him alone to unload the car off the ramp truck. She spoke up as they approached the fence that separated the yard from the driveway.

"H-hey, do you need our help with that?"

He smiled back at them, leaning against the trunk.

"Hey girls! Nah, I'm good. The battery died just as I rolled it off, and as it turns out, we don't have any spare batteries lying around."

"Gee, dad, and you didn't think to boost off one of the many running vehicles we own?" Yang teased. Their father took it in stride, his bright smile almost contagious.

"I could, or I could just push the car twenty feet to the garage. Where are you girls headed today?"

"Thought we'd take the old bike and go for a visit." she said with a wink, hopping the fence with a bound. Ruby followed her over without even touching the fence with her hands.

His expression stiffened.

"Oh. Well, alright. Wear your helmets. Please."

"Yes, dad."

She gave him an affectionate slap on the shoulder as they passed him by and entered the garage. Strew all about were the parts Ruby had pulled off the old truck that was up on the hoist, sans its engine and transmission. All the parts of which were literally on every flat surface. Some where even on surfaces that weren't flat. But they weren't here to visit the old truck today, they were here for something else. Equally dusty, for sure, and even older, but with a whole lot more personality. Yang pulled her to the back of the shop, unlit by the worklights.

And there she sat.

Under a crummy throw rag, mixed in with a bunch of old cardboard boxes and leaning against the garage's back wall, was the old motorcycle. But not just any old motorcycle. The old motorcycle. A bike that had gotten Yang started on riding when she was only four years old, started her obsession with two-wheeled fun. Made Ruby into the master mechanic she was today. This bike meant everything to the two girls, so much so that their dad could never bring himself to sell it. Well, that and it belonged to his late wife.

Yang pulled the sheet off of it, sending a huge cloud of dust into the air. Ruby pulled the edge of her shirt up over her nose to try and keep the dust out as it settled on everything else around. The seventy-year-old motorcycle sat quietly against the wall, the once polished chrome parts reflecting the lights in the garage. She was old, but she was beautiful. Ruby forced herself not to gush over their mom's bike. But she loved it. She'd learned about carburetors on this bike, gear ratios, spring rates. She'd learned to re-wire a magneto coil, a skill completely defunct in the time of electronic control systems and alternating current. She could freely admit that the red and black design of her very own Crescent Rose had been partially inspired by the old red motorcycle. It was beautiful.

"Well, there she is. Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Yeah..." Ruby mused, taking it in.

Yang approached the bike, and very carefully pulled the bike off the wall with the tall handlebars and pushed it forward, turning it so she could straddle it.

"Right, lets see if you want to play today."

She reached up under the back of the seat and turned the key, which was still there, surprisingly. With her left foot, she kicked the stand down and layed the bike's weight on it. The old chopper groaned as the old catch spring released. Ruby was suddenly reminded of her old truck, sitting in her driveway back in Atlas. Old, crotchety, and red.

Yang flipped out the starting lever with her heel and ratcheted it down a few times until it caught on a hard spot. The compression point of the motor. Yang pulled the clutch handle in with her left hand and stood up, placing all her weight on the starting lever. She looked over at Ruby.

"Think it'll crank?"

"I dunno, who was the last person who worked on it?"

"You were, honey."

"Then it will."

Yang smiled. "I like your self-confidence. Cover your ears, honey. This might be loud."

"Oh, I'm fully awa-"

Yang jumped down on the lever, spinning the motor over. Like an entire battalion of cannonfire, the old V-twin exploded into life, shaking the entire garage and ridding itself of all the dust that had fallen on the old metal gas tank. Yang quickly sat down on the seat and reached under the tank to pull the choke back in, and the motor, while still deafening, quieted down. Ruby's ears were ringing. She should have listened the first time, since she was now incapable of listening at all.

"It's so loud!" Yang shouted. "How did mom ever ride this to school?!"

"I dunno!" She yelled back. "Maybe she wore earplugs!"

Yang shrugged, kicking the transmission into neutral and setting the bike back down on it's kickstand to let it warm up. It was a real feat, this old Hog still running after never really riding in twenty actual long years. The bike had been their mom's from school, being her daily driver, or rather rider, for three or four years. The story went that she bought it at a flea market from an old biker in a sweet leather jacket for a couple hundred lien in what he considered 'running condition'. It wasn't running at that time. He'd lied. And no one had thought the tiny and stocky Summer Rose would fit on a bike with tall, chopper-style handle bars either, so she bought it just to show them up. Even for her sister, who stood a fair five or six inches taller than their mom was barely comfortable behind the tall controls.

"Grab that jacket and helmet and hop on, kiddo."

"This one?" she asked, pointing to the dirty glass cabinet against the wall.

"Yeah, c'mon."

"But... this is mom's coat..."

Yang dismounted the bike, scooching over to her. Her face softened, even with the loud motor trying to rip their ears off right next to them. She pulled the cabinet open slowly, and reached for the hangar. The old red leather creaked as it was pulled from the equally old fitted suit hanger, each wrinkle and crease making its own unique little squeak. She handed it over, and Ruby took it from her with very nervous hands.

"B-but..."

"You need to wear a coat when you're riding, babe. Safety first." Yang said, plopping their mother's helmet onto Ruby's head and briefly obscuring her vision. "And if anyone's gonna wear that coat, it's gonna be you."

Ruby nodded slowly, and very carefully put her arms in the sleeves. They were a tighter fit than she was expecting, but by no means too tight. Her own leather coat, a birthday gift from Yang, was all loose and free in the sleeves but tight around the body. This one was tight all over, pulling the leather taught and smooth, giving her an new-school-old-school look. It was a very nice jacket. The offset zipper was a little confusing, though.

"Here, let me-" Yang said, turning and grabbing the helmet's buckle under her chin and doing it up. She'd gotten her own bright yellow helmet on somehow in the last thirty seconds without her noticing. "There you go. You ready to ride?"

"Don't you need your coat?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"But what if you fall off?"

"Honey, I absorb kinetic energy, remember? I'll be fine without one."

"Oh, yeah." she said, making a face at her.

Yang turned back around and mounted the bike again, righting it and settling in to the deep leather saddle. She wiggled the handlebars again, trying to work a kink out of her shoulder. She turned, and patted the rear seat up on the back fender.

"Hop on."

And Ruby did, slinging her leg over and putting her weight down on it, trying to keep her legs away from the chrome exhaust pipes that ran the length of the bike's right flank. The heat coming from them was strong enough to penetrate her work boots and her coveralls, so she was wary of what they might do to an exposed ankle. Like Yang's, for example.

"I thought you were supposed to wear boots while riding." she shouted into Yang's ear. Yang chuckled and leaned her head back to respond.

"Don't worry about it. Sneakers are good enough. You holding on?"

Ruby put her arms around her sister's midsection and linked her fingers together.

"Uh huh."

Yang twisted the throttle a few times, a huge explosion of sound ripping through the garage.

"Then let's go!"

She eased out on the clutch in her fingers, and the bike eased its way through the garage, around the hoist and Ruby's tookboxes. Again, she rolled onto the throttle and pulled them forward and out of the garage, weaving around their dad and the police car, who waved at them with that concerned parent face on. Ruby waved back, quick to grab hold of Yang again so she didn't fall off the seat. They reached the end of the driveway, and with two more obnoxious twists of the throttle, pulled onto the road and got up to speed.

The wind in her hair was lovely as Yang banged up through the gears. Or, what wind made it around Yang and to the hair out the bottom of her helmet, of course.

They were going for a visit.

They'd be expected. And for once, Ruby didn't feel so bad about it.

Mom would be happy to see them.