Team JNPR's room was dark, except for the shaft of light from the broken moon shining through the window. It was quiet, except from the soft sound of slightly laboured breathing. Nora's neck was almost fully healed, but it still caused her pain, especially when she spoke. Her and Ren were sleeping on Nora's bed, holding each other tightly. They'd been sleeping like this since the first night in the infirmary. It was the second night since they'd gone back to their room. Jaune lay in his own bed, sleep evading him. He stared up at the ceiling, not lost in thought but in a deep state of lassitude that refused to allow his body or mind to rest. He had barely slept an hour in three days. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back there, in that makeshift bar, watching it again. The perpetual exhaustion from sleep deprivation made his pain and his guilt worse, but he'd rather bear it forever than relive the memory in his dreams.

Pyrrha's death had struck everybody at Beacon hard. Most had found out at the meeting of the teams the night after it happened. Pyrrha was such an endless fount of kindness and good nature that there were few who hadn't called her a friend. They grieved the loss, but Jaune felt something else in the air as everybody let the news sink in. They were afraid. It was generally accepted at Beacon that Pyrrha was by far the most skilled fighter there. And though she would never claim this herself, she regularly demonstrated it by trouncing entire other teams single-handed in training exercises. If Pyrrha Nikos could be defeated so easily, what chance did anyone stand against the Guardians? Jaune did everything he could to galvanize them; fill them with a desire for revenge that outweighed their fear. But everything he had told them had been a lie. The truth was that he was scared too.

Jaune sat up, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, then spent a short while staring at the floor. He looked out the window, up at the moon. Broken pieces slowly drifting away from a hulking ruin. A shattered husk that occasionally put on the appearance of completeness. Jaune sighed, stood, and walked to the bathroom. He closed the door, and flipped the light switch, blinking as the harsh light struck his eyes. When he could see again, he walked to the sink and stared into the mirror. The man who stared back at him wasn't a leader. He wasn't a man following in his father's footsteps, on the path to becoming a hero. He was just a foolish child who'd lied and cheated until he was in over his head, given responsibility he didn't deserve. And what had he done with it? He'd lead a better person, somebody who'd earned everything she had a dozen times over, to their deaths. Somebody who, despite her intelligence, was naive enough to believe in him.

Jaune looked away from the child in the mirror. He stared blankly at his hand, and the scarred stump on the knuckle of his index finger. He turned on the tap, letting the water run over his fingers for a moment. When it touched the stump, he felt a twinge of pain. He held his hand there, feeling the sting. He cupped his hands, collected some of the cool water, and splashed it over his face. He rubbed his face, gave it another splash, and reached for the hand towel on the rack. He dried his face, and tossed the towel aside. He felt something irritating his eye. His bangs hanging down, clouding one corner of his vision. He brushed the lock of hair aside. He looked into the mirror again, at the unkempt mess of blonde hair. It made him look like a little boy. Just a child, playing hero, and letting others pay the price. Jaune ran his hand through his hair, grimacing. After a moment of thought, he opened the cabinet beneath the sink. There was an electric hair clipper on the small shelf. It belonged to Nora. She wouldn't mind if he borrowed it. He pulled the clippers out of the cabinet, and plugged them in.

A few minutes later, Jaune stepped out of the bathroom. He looked over at Ren and Nora, still curled up together. He sighed, and looked over to his own bed. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, he knew that for sure. He looked over at Pyrrha's bed. Neatly made, with a stack of books resting on the bedspread. Jaune walked over to his own bed, crouched down, and reached under it. He pulled his sword, Crocea Mors, out from under the bed. Grasping the sheath, he pulled on the hilt, exposing a few inches of the blade. He stared at it, thoughtfully. Nodding to himself, he slid the sword back into place, attached the sheath to his belt, and walked out of the room.

Beacon Academy's Forge was a dimly lit place within the basement levels of the castle, filled with machinery and work stations and the loud noises of grinding metal. Most of the light came from cascades of sparks, or freshly-forged steel glowing red hot. It was a large room, to accommodate any and every form of machine necessary for complex weapon crafting and modification. Even at this time of night, the facility was in use by several students, though it didn't match the crowded state one would find it in most days. Jaune looked around, watching as students cut through gun barrels, cast blades, and made minute adjustment to transforming mechanisms. He gripped the hilt of his sword, and walked forward. He caught sight of Cardin Winchester, working deftly on his mace at a nearby bench. Cardin glanced over his shoulder as Jaune approached. He set down the small wrench he was using and turned to him.

"Arc." He said, with a nod, "What's with the, uh..." Cardin was pointing towards his own hair.

Jaune ran a hand over his freshly shaved head.

"Doesn't matter," Jaune said.

"Right," Cardin said, glancing around, awkwardly, "Listen, Arc, Nikos and I weren't really... friends, but..."

Jaune stared at him, his face blank. Inside, Jaune felt a twinge of something that could be called disappointment. Everybody had been treating him the same way. Offering condolences, telling him they were sorry. Part of him had hoped Cardin might have said what he was damn sure everybody was thinking. That it was his fault Pyrrha had died. That he never should have come to Beacon at all, let alone stay now. But who would be cold enough to say that to a child?

"Anyway," Cardin said, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. The way she- that's no way for a Huntress to die. We're going to punish them for it."

"I plan on it," Jaune said, "Where's the heavy duty grinding wheel?"

Cardin pointed to a machine in the corner, as he turned back to his mace. Jaune walked over to the device, removed the safety covering over the grinder, and laid his sword down on the bench. He flipped the switch on the side of the machine. Nothing happened. He flipped it a couple more times, irritated. Eventually, he flipped it down, gave the primer a couple presses, and flipped the switch on again. The machine rumbled to life. The diamond-edged wheel began spinning with a powerful hum. Jaune drew his sword from its sheath and set to work.

Nora was awake for some time before she decided to move. She had no desire to leave Ren's arms. The discomfort in her neck was preventing her from falling back to sleep, however, as it had been doing the past couple days. She snuggled closer to Ren, feeling his warmth and listening to his heartbeat, hoping to drift off again. Even in his sleep, Ren was gripping her tightly. Still, Nora eventually decided she needed to get up. She'd been stirred from her sleep by a buzzing sound from their bathroom, it sounded like an electric razor or something. She had vaguely sensed Jaune leaving the room shortly thereafter, though she'd still been lethargic at the time. Nora had had felt sorry for Jaune since Pyrrha's death. Her loss had hit them all hard, but Nora knew how close Jaune and Pyrrha had been. She could only hope Jaune didn't blame himself for what had happened.

Nora carefully squirmed out of Ren's embrace, making sure not to wake him. Usually this would take little effort- Ren was a deep sleeper. But like all of them he'd spent the past few days restless, prone to stirring in his sleep, occasionally waking with a start and gripping Nora all the tighter before he was able to slip off again. Gently moving his arm out of the way, Nora crawled out of the bed, stood, and walked to the bathroom. She closed the door before turning on the light, then turned to the sink. She noticed immediately an unusual sight in the sink. Strewn around the drain, there were several small clumps and loose strands of blonde hair. She opened the cabinet door beneath the sink, and looked at her hair clipper. The power cord was wrapped tightly around the handle, rather than hanging loose off the edge of the shelf the way she usually left it. Nora nodded in understanding. She stopped for a moment, wondering where Jaune might be. She didn't like the idea of him wandering off alone in the middle of the night without telling them.

She gave a glance towards Ren, who was still asleep. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, knowing it probably wouldn't get through.

"I'm going to go find Jaune, Ren," She whispered, wincing as the pain in her neck flared up, "Stay in bed, I'll be back."

She stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible. She walked down the hall, not completely sure of where she was going. She thought about Pyrrha. Since she'd started at Beacon, Pyrrha had become one of her closest friends. Nora had shed a lot of tears over the past two days. When Pyrrha was killed, Nora had already been barely conscious, unaware of what was happening. She remembered what it was like, charging towards her enemy, only to feel her throat splitting open as if of its own volition. As she fell to the floor, she had felt foolish. The Guardian, Ochre, had just demonstrated an extraordinarily dangerous power, and there she was, charging blindly, and being taken down without landing a single blow. But she hadn't felt fear. She didn't believe for a moment that her friends wouldn't quickly neutralize their enemy before saving her. She was embarrassed that she had been so easily defeated. Fear had mere seconds to set in as she lay on the ground, watching her friends be brought down around her, before she lost consciousness. When she came to, she had had to be told that Pyrrha was dead.

Walking down the hall, Nora looked up to see Weiss, walking towards her own room. She was carrying two mugs of steaming hot tea. She smiled at Nora weakly, an awkward and empty gesture that had become a common exchange between the students of Beacon over the past few weeks. Nora nodded to her.

"Weiss," Nora whispered, "Have you seen Jaune?"

Weiss shook her head, "No, sorry. Is he missing?"

"He's fine, I'm sure," Nora said, in part to reassure herself, "But he left the room, and I'm a little worried about him. I... think he shaved his head."

Weiss responded with a quizzical look. Further down the hall, Coco Adel was returning to her room, her weapon hanging at her side. Instead of her typical attire, she wore a tank top stained with grease and oil. She glanced over to them, overhearing their brief exchange.

"Jaune's in the forge," She reported, "Modding his sword."

"Thank you, Coco," Nora said, smiling. Her smile seemed genuine.

"Give him my- tell him I'm sorry," Weiss said, "Tell him from me we're all here for him."

"I will," Nora said," Thank you, Weiss. Good night."

Weiss nodded and continued on. Nora resumed walking with more determination, destination now in mind. It was a short few minutes of walking before she arrived at the forge. She'd spent a lot of time here, performing weapon maintenance. A hammer accrued a considerable amount of wear and tear over time when it's swings were propelled by explosions within the head. Nora looked around, spotted Jaune, and navigated around the various machines to reach him. She saw that he had indeed shaved himself. He was focused on fine detail work with a handheld power-chisel. When Nora approached, he glanced over his shoulder at her, nodded, then returned to his work. For the first time since Pyrrha's death, Nora saw something other than complete despair on his face. Instead, she saw steely determination.

"What's with the hair, Jaune?" Nora asked, in that same gentle whisper now barely audible over the rumble of machinery.

Jaune shrugged, not really paying attention.

Nora smiled, "Finally adding a gun to that thing?"

Jaune looked around, and the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"Maybe next time," He said.

He lifted up the sword and turned, showing it to Nora. The edges of either side of the blade had been serrated into razor-sharp teeth. They weren't overly complex, just a simple uniform triangle shape. A few of them were unique though, featuring jagged edges and barbs, even smaller serrations of their own. Jaune swung the sword around in his hand a couple times and then slid it into its sheath.

"This'll do for now."

Steam rose from the warm amber liquid in the mugs Weiss held. She looked down thoughtfully at the tea bags floating just under the surface of the tea. One of the mugs had no sugar added to it, the other had two. Weiss found tea without sugar too bitter, but Blake seemed to prefer her's that way.

"He's fine, I'm sure," Nora was saying, sounding unsure, "But he left the room, and I'm a little worried about him. I... think he shaved his head."

Weiss was surprised by this. Everyone at Beacon knew that Jaune and Pyrrha were close, and her loss had hit him hard. But it seemed he was taking it a bit harder than everybody had thought. Weiss could only hope at least that Jaune wasn't still blaming himself.

"He's in the forge," came the voice of Coco Adel, behind Weiss, "Modding his sword."

Weiss turned to her and offered a smile. A reflexive action. Nora thanked Coco.

"Give him my- tell him I'm sorry," Weiss said, unsure her words would matter to Jaune, "Tell him from me we're all here for him."

"I will," Nora whispered, "Thank you, Weiss. Good night."

Weiss nodded and continued to her room. She reached the door and looked down at doorknob, then to the mugs in her hand. She sighed and bent down to set one of the mugs on the ground, when she heard something from within the room. A sort of angry whispering. This struck Weiss as strange. Ruby had been curled up, asleep when Weiss had left. She set the mug in her left hand down, and gently turned the doorknob.

"-that they were there for my revenge!" Blake was saying, "And I'm not supposed to feel responsible?"

Weiss looked in at Blake, head in her hands, crying. She looked over at Ruby's bed. Ruby was indeed asleep.

"I get that, I do," Blake said, as if replying to someone, "But how can I possibly be okay with letting people die on the way avenging you?"

"Blake." Weiss said, staring blankly.

Blake turned to Weiss in surprise. For a moment, she only stared back, confused. After a few seconds, she glanced from Weiss, to an empty point in the room, and back to Weiss. Her eyes widened, as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

"Who are you talking to, Blake?"