Another day, yet instead of moving crates in the usual warehouse, I’m herding people in a different one - tucked away in some forgotten corner of Vale’s industrial district.
Well, not exactly herding them like cattle. These guys are all trussed up with plastic zip-ties, and I’m just playing shepherd, nudging them toward the center of the building. Take this guy in the baggy clothes I’m currently dealing with - I offer him a... gentle encouragement via my knee to his back leg. He crumples to his knees with a satisfying grunt, joining his friends on the dusty concrete floor.
Makes an even dozen now, all of them perfectly lined up.
Neo’s making her rounds in front of our captive audience, those mismatched eyes of hers glued to her scroll as she takes what I assume is inventory. She hasn’t bothered filling me in on the details, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening here.
“That’s all of it, I swear!” pipes up one particularly vocal fellow sporting a fresh black eye, jerking his head toward a neat stack of about ten wooden crates. “Everything’s accounted for!”
This whole thing is mind-numbingly boring. I didn’t even want to be here, but apparently this is what passes for work these days. Roman laid it out simple enough: locate the warehouse, grab the workers, no unnecessary violence - just a clean takeover. Like changing management, except with more zip-ties and threats.
The boring part? It’s almost embarrassingly easy since none of these idiots bothered with aura or even basic security. Having both Neo and me here is like bringing a gun to a pillow fight. Meanwhile, she’s busy cataloging more Atlesian scrap - just endless boxes of robot parts, as if Vale needs more of those.
Seems Cinder’s suddenly developed an intense interest in this emerging market rather than dust. Now she’s got Vale’s most notorious thief playing middle management, securing smuggling operations left and right.
Honestly, that bitch’s planning doesn’t make any sense, and I’ve got better things to do than try decoding her twisted logic. One day it’s “stop this, do that,” the next it’s ‘Go back to what you were doing before.’ Round and round we go, like a mental junkie.
What a fucking mess. Would it kill her to stick to one clear objective? Or is chaos just her preferred management style?
Anyway…
Finally, Neo seems done with her inspection, stashing her scroll away with a decisive nod. The whole warehouse lets out a collective sigh of relief, which is pretty dramatic, if you ask me.
But that relief shatters in an instant as Neo blurs into motion, her boot connecting with the stomach of the guy with a black eye. He goes rolling across the floor like a ragdoll, making me snap my head toward the scene, too stunned to even make a sound.
“W-why did you do that, you bitch?!” The man groans between painful coughs, spitting saliva as he gasps for air.
My partner’s only response is a wicked grin as she stalks toward him with deliberate but dangerous slowness. Her boot finds his throat, and she starts applying pressure. The man writhes beneath her, desperately trying to fight back, but Neo just pushes harder. The playful spark in her eyes dims, replaced by something that makes my blood run cold for the first time. Her usual smirk twists into something I’ve never seen before as she watches him struggle beneath her heel.
My ears flatten against my head as I watch her choking him, his face turning an alarming shade of red while he gurgles and gags. I can’t just stand here and watch this.
I move fast, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her away from the struggling man. He immediately gasps for air, gulping it down like water in Vacuo. Neo whips her head around to face me, surprise flickering across her features before her eyes narrow and her expression sours with annoyance.
“What are you doing?” I practically hiss at her.
She merely rolls her eyes, face-palming with exaggerated frustration. The gesture only confuses me more until my scroll buzzes with a notification, which I quickly check.
‘He is lying.’
‘Need to interrogate.’
I lift my gaze back to Neo, who’s giving me a strange look. Understanding dawns on me, and I give her a quick nod before releasing my grip. Clearly, I misread the situation - should’ve just waited outside and let her do her thing instead of playing some sort of hero.
I turn and make my way to the exit, but before I can reach it, a sharp crack splits the air, followed by an agonized scream. That’s more than enough motivation to get the hell out of here.
This whole thing is making my skin crawl.
I practically throw myself through the door, slamming it shut behind me before letting out a heavy sigh.
How could I forget what she’s actually capable of? This shouldn’t surprise me in the slightest, but... maybe it does because I’ve never seen her like this before. Sure, there were unhinged threats and actions, but they always carried that playful undertone.
But now?
That expression on her face was something else entirely.
She wasn’t just hurting them - she was enjoying it. I mean, I knew she had sadistic tendencies, but this is my first time seeing them in full force. It’s one thing to know someone’s dangerous; it’s another to watch them revel in causing pain.
I pull out my scroll again, absently scanning through my contacts. No new messages, but my eyes linger on Jeanne’s name. Maybe I should check how the whole Beacon thing went?
My thumb hovers over her contact for a moment before I let out a sigh and select her name and start writing a simple message.
‘Hey Jeanne, how’s it been going? Left me hanging about the Beacon stuff.’
The message is sent with a soft ping, and I barely have time to pocket my scroll before Neo emerges from the warehouse by kicking the door open. She’s actually skipping, that usual impish smile playing across her face while she twirls her parasol on one finger.
“You done?”
She responds with an enthusiastic grin and nod. I return the gesture, but my eyes catch something small. There’s blood spattered on her white boots. That is enough proof that she definitely roughed them up really bad. Better not ask for details; not my business, and honestly?
I don’t want to know.
“Where to now?”
Neo looks up thoughtfully, tapping her chin before offering a casual shrug.
“So that means we have free time, then?”
Another nod, and suddenly her eyes light up - quite literally, as her semblance materializes a light bulb that shatters into pink glass-like shards. Before I can react, she instantly grabs my hand and starts dragging me away in the opposite direction.
I don’t bother protesting. Easier to just let her take me wherever she’s got in mind. Besides, it’s probably better than hanging around that mess we just left and I wanted to leave, anyway. So it’s a win in my book.
We walk for a while before she finally releases my hand to point at another run down warehouse and this one secured with nothing more than a standard metal padlock.
“Want me to pick that?” I point at the door for confirmation.
She nods eagerly.
With a resigned sigh, I move forward, summoning my lockpicking tools. It only takes a minute of careful manipulation before the lock clicks open and discards it. Child’s play, really.
We step inside to find the place practically empty except for a few open crates scattered around. After what we just left behind, the silence here is almost peaceful but pretty welcomed.
“This place is empty. What exactly are we doing here?”
Rather than answer me first, Neo just saunters deeper into the building, rolling her neck as she stretches her limbs with cat-like grace. She turns around, flashing that smug grin of hers before propping her parasol against a nearby crate and buttoning off and shrugging off her jacket with grace.
I squint at her, my ears twitching in confusion, although I do like her without the jacket.
‘You need to learn to fight better, kitten.’
Her semblance materializes the pink words above her head like always..
“But I know how to fight?”
She responds with a silent giggle, raising an eyebrow.
I can’t help but sigh in defeat.
“Okay, fine. Just because I got beaten once doesn’t mean I’m a total pushover. I beat up Cinder’s lapdog twice, you know?”
Neo pouts, making an exaggerated so-so gesture with her hand in response. Of course she’d know about that. Yeah, I beat Emerald, but it wasn’t exactly clean. That bitch got in some nasty hits before I put her down.
“Okay, fine,” I groan, my tail swishing in mild annoyance. “I won’t say no to training, anyway.”
Neo’s grin widens as she drops into that unique stance of hers, the one that looks deceptively wide open.
The ice cream girl has me throw punches while she effortlessly slides past them, turning my own momentum against me. It’s maddening - every time I think I’ve got her pinned down, she’s already somewhere else.
“This is harder than it looks,” I mutter after she flips me onto my back for the fifth time.
She responds with that silent laugh of hers, materializing words above her head.
‘You’re too stiff, kitten.’
Easy for her to say. But I push myself back up, and we go again. This time, when she comes at me with those lightning-quick jabs, I focus on flowing with the attacks instead of trying to muscle through them. To my surprise, I actually slip past one - only for her to immediately sweep my legs out from under me.
The floor and I are becoming well acquainted.
She helps me to my feet, dusting off my shirt with mock concern.
‘Let’s move to something else.’
Neo backs away, settling into that stance of hers again - deliberately full of openings. It’s a trap, obviously, but I take the bait anyway, curious to see what she’s planning to show me.
I throw a quick jab at her face. She catches my wrist, spinning like a top to send me stumbling forward before her elbow introduces itself to the back of my head.
Growling, I recover quickly and aim a low kick, but she answers with a spinning jump kick that catches me square in the chest. Her heels dig in slightly as I stumble back with a grunt.
I surge forward to close the distance, but Neo’s grin only widens. She launches herself up, using my shoulders as springboards to perfectly arc over me. Before I can react, her legs lock around my neck and she throws me down with shocking ease.
I know she is good, but damn, this is seriously on another level.
I push myself up immediately, and she’s already ready for more. That last move was impressive, though. I’ll give her that.
This time she’s the one charging, but instead of a straight attack, she launches into a handspring so fluid it looks like a wheel in motion. I try to shake off my surprise and grab her mid-air, but she drops at the last second into a perfect split before sweeping my legs. In one smooth motion, she transitions into a headspring and delivers a devastating dropkick that sends me rolling across the floor with a thud.
I land with a grunt, rubbing my chest where her boot soles left their mark.
“Show-off,” I mutter.
Neo approaches me and holds out her hand to help me up again, and this time I notice there’s actual approval in her mismatched eyes. Guess I’m not doing as badly as I thought.
‘You’re still thinking too much.’
Her semblance flashes the words as she pulls me to my feet.
“Hard not to when you’re throwing circus moves at me,” I grumble, rotating my shoulder to work out some of the building stiffness.
She taps her chin thoughtfully before her eyes light up with another idea.
‘Let’s try something else.’
Neo walks away towards the pile of crates and rummages through them until she finds a pair of dusty dumbbells, tossing them my way with a playful flourish. I catch them easily and discover that they’re practically weightless in my grip. It doesn’t surprise me really, I can easily pick up crates that are at least the weight of a full grown man after all.
Either way, I start throwing practice punches into the air, getting a feel for how the weights affect my movement. But something clicks in my mind as I look between the dumbbells and Neo’s encouraging smile. She gives me a slight nod, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
I charge at her, but she doesn’t counter or attack. Instead, she just flows around my strikes, each movement more impossible than the last. She bends backward under a high swing, her spine arching at an angle that makes my back hurt just looking at it. When I follow up with a low sweep, she practically pirouettes over it, spinning through the air like some demented dancer.
Every attack I throw feels like I’m trying to hit smoke. She weaves between my strikes, bending and twisting in ways that make me wonder if she’s got any bones at all. At one point, she actually does a full backbend, plants her hands on the ground, and walks on them for a few steps just to avoid a particularly wide swing.
I roll my eyes as she flips back to her feet, that insufferable grin still plastered across her face. No wonder she’s so hard to hit in a real fight. She must have practiced a lot to reach this level.
Backing off to create some distance, an idea hits me. I spin sharply, using the momentum to launch both dumbbells at her. Her eyes widen for a split second. Guess she wasn’t expecting that, but she catches them mid-air, spinning with the motion before sending them right back with that same fluid grace.
Feeling a bit flashy myself, I jump into a spin and snatch them out of the air, landing solidly on both feet in what I hope looks as smooth as her moves.
“That was cool.” I can’t help but grin, and even feel my tail swishing behind me.
Neo giggles silently, nodding in agreement.
“Wanna go again?”
Another eager nod causes my ears to perk up as I ready myself for round two.
I think I’m starting to get the hang of this fancy footwork business. This is almost…no, this IS dancing.
And soon enough, we fall into a rhythm on a new but deadly dance instead.
Neo launches one dumbbell high into the air while sending the other straight at me. I catch the lower one and spin, using the momentum to snatch the falling weight before immediately throwing them back into a crossing pattern.
She responds with an elegant pirouette, catching both dumbbells mid-spin before seamlessly transitioning into a fluid motion that sends them whirling back at different heights. The weights become extensions of our movements, creating patterns in the air as we toss them back and forth.
My body starts moving on its own, instinct taking over as I weave and twist. Each catch flows into the next throw, building a continuous chain of movement. When Neo sends both weights spiraling toward my head, I drop into a backflip - something I didn’t even know I could do - catching them at the apex of my rotation before landing and immediately returning fire.
“This is actually pretty fun!” I shout between throws, my tail swaying in time with our movements. And proving to be a great help to balance myself.
Neo’s response is to add more complexity, incorporating cartwheels and flips between catches. She makes it look effortless, like she’s performing instead of training.
The warehouse becomes our stage, the sound of spinning metal and the steps of our music.
I match her energy, letting my body flow more naturally. When she throws both weights in a crossing pattern, I spin between them, catching one behind my back and the other in front before reversing their trajectory in one seamless motion. My usual fighting style feels clunky compared to this much more graceful and even dare to call it, beautiful approach.
We keep this up until our movements sync perfectly; catch, spin, throw, repeat. The dumbbells trace glinting arcs through the air as we dance around each other, neither of us missing a single catch.
Finally, after what feels like hours but could have been minutes, Neo catches both weights and sets them down in an exaggerated manner. However, she’s actually breathing hard, but her eyes are sparkling with genuine interest.
In my case, I fall to one knee and wipe sweat from my forehead, surprised at how much of a workout that turned out to be.
“That was... different.” I manage between breaths. “Never thought fighting could look so... elegant. Beautiful even.”
It just felt so right. Everything felt right.
We remain there for a while, catching our breath before I summon a pair of Pepsi cans, tossing one to Neo who catches it with ease. We crack them open in perfect sync, taking long sips before letting out satisfied sighs, also in sync, which is a curious coincidence.
But after that workout, this cold drink feels like absolute heaven.
[New Class unlocked!]
[The Dancer]
The can nearly slips from my grip as I stare at the floating text with wide eyes.
A new class? Just like that?
But then it clicks - all those elegant moves, the synchronization between us, the way we turned the warehouse into our stage. We weren’t just training; we were actually dancing in our own way. The dumbbells became our props, the empty space our dance floor.
‘Class change’
Yet nothing happens, making my ears twitch in confusion before I realize my mistake and try again.
‘Class change, Dancer’
And the change occurs instantly. It’s somewhat different from my other class changes - more subtle, yet somehow more profound. My hands start tapping against my legs of their own accord, like they’re keeping time to some invisible rhythm. It’s strange. There’s this constant urge to move, to find the beat in everything around me. Even my tail seems to want to sway to this phantom rhythm.
However, the moment I look down at my hands, something feels... off, incomplete. My eyes widen in realization because this class needs its own weapons, just like the other two. Swords or knuckles or claws absolutely won’t make the cut for this class, and vague ideas form in my head, but I need to see my options first.
“Hey Neo, I wanna check out some weapons. You in?” I offer as I fully stand up.
Neo’s grin stretches from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
‘I know just the place!’
More like we know the place.
Either way, I drain the rest of my Pepsi, crushing the can in my hand before tossing it away.
Our special weapon shop is exactly what you’d expect from a place that doesn’t officially exist - tucked away in a basement, dimly lit, and smelling of metal and dried oil. The owner’s a gruff older man who doesn’t ask questions and expects the same courtesy in return. He has been my guy to get my weapons and replenish stuff.
Neo practically skips around the place, examining various weapons with that innocent childlike curiosity. Meanwhile, I’m focused on the hunter weapons section, studying the array of mechashift weapons on display. However, just like before, something feels off about them as I cannot see myself wielding them.
“Hey old man,” I call over my shoulder. “Got anything more... Like I want to throw them as I need something with a bit more… flair.”
He grunts, jerking his thumb toward the back wall.
I make my way to the counter, scanning the collection of throwing weapons mounted behind it. Knives of all shapes and sizes catch the dim light, then like a boomerang if I’m remembering it right, but my eyes stop dead when they land on a pair of metallic rings hanging near the top. They’re beautiful in a deadly way - perfectly circular with jagged edges.
“Those,” I point immediately. “The ring thingies.”
“Chakrams.” The owner nods and retrieves them “Got an eye for the exotic stuff, eh kid?” He places them on the counter. “Just don’t come crying if you slice your own tail off.”
Prick.
As soon as I pick them up, something clicks into place. My body just knows what to do with them.
I start moving, letting the weapons guide me through fluid motions as I spin in place, acting and practically dancing just like I have done a while ago with Neo. My chakrams sing through the air as I weave them into another silent dance.
I stop moving and turn to the owner. “I’ll take them.”
“Course you will,” the old man snorts. “That’ll be double the usual rate. Imported stuff ain’t cheap, and neither is my silence.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull out the cash from my pocket, including his ‘special handling fee’. No paper trail, just the way we both like it and want to keep this for the foreseeable future.
“Pleasure doing business.” He tosses me a specialized belt with holsters. I quickly strap it on and secure the chakrams in place before heading out of the basement.
Once outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air. Everything feels different now, but in a good way. Complete, like finding something I didn’t know I was missing.
The door creaks open behind me and Neo emerges.
I turn around with a smile. “Hey, thanks for the whole training thing. Never thought getting thrown around would lead to something this interesting.” I gesture to the chakrams. “Want to train again some other time?”
She flashes that knowing smile of hers and steps closer to pinch my cheek, making me chuckle before I instinctively move to swat her hand away.
But something makes me stop. Instead, I catch her hand in mine, my fingers wrapping around hers as I lock eyes with her mismatched ones.
Her smile fades away, replaced by a different expression.
I will never get tired of seeing how beautiful she is.
Or how she is drawing me in like a magnet with her gaze. I lean forward, my lips almost brushing hers, feeling her warm breath mingling with mine.
But at the last possible moment, she turns her head with perfect timing, leaving my lips to land on her cheek as she silently giggles.
Like she had done many times before.
[Affection with (Neopolitan) has increased by 2, 34/100]
‘Nope!’
I let out a frustrated groan, my ears flattening against my head. “Seriously?”
She breaks away from my grasp, taking a few steps forward before looking back over her shoulder with that infuriatingly smug grin of hers.
‘You still haven’t earned it, kitten’
“And what exactly should I do then?” It’s just maddening at this point.
Neo suddenly closes the distance between us, poking my chest with one delicate finger before using it to flick my nose. I growl and rub the spot in annoyance, which only seems to amuse her more.
‘Seeeeeeeecret’
Before I can even form a response, she delivers a smack to my butt and skips away, leaving me standing there like an idiot, as my mind short-circuited for a second.
And when I finally gather my thoughts, Neo is already gone.
This girl I swear…
Whatever.
I need to head to the club.
-Ozpin-
Ozpin sat in his tower office, the setting sun casting long shadows across his desk as he finalized the team placements. Most teams had formed naturally during initiation, their leaders emerging through actions rather than mere credentials, just like always.
Glynda was handling the more delicate task of processing the failed candidates. Through his window, he caught glimpses of dejected figures leaving the campus grounds. Regrettable, but necessary, better to dash their dreams now than to lose lives later. This profession had no room for hesitation.
His measured pace faltered as he reached the hastily assembled team of Jeanne d’Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao Long, and Blake Bel-
Right, just Blake now. The weight of her past choices and actions clearly was weighing heavily on the girl. He had seen that look before, in countless others who had fled from causes they once believed in or committed severe mistakes. Some found redemption, others... well, time would tell with this special case.
He had placed their team in administrative limbo while he reviewed their case. The screen before him flickered to life, displaying footage of their encounters. Of particular interest were their clashes with the foreign Grimm species. Doctor Oobleck’s preliminary reports sat unopened in his inbox. The educated man’s investigation into these anomalies had yet to yield concrete results.
The answer danced just beyond his grasp.
Gnawers and a Goobbue.
The Goobbue footage drew his attention. In all his lifetimes, he had never encountered such a creature, yet Blake spoke of it as if it were common knowledge in Vacuo’s vast deserts. Theodore’s puzzled response to his inquiry had only deepened the mystery - the creature was unknown even to Vacuo’s headmaster and the local experts.
Blake wasn’t lying; her body language and tone spoke truth. Which meant someone had deliberately fed her false information.
But why? To what end?
Could Salem be testing new variants? His fingers tightened imperceptibly around his mug. But to deploy them here, under his very nose... that seemed almost intentionally careless.
Was this a new gambit? A challenge, perhaps? Salem had always enjoyed her little demonstrations of power.
No.
After countless years of their conflict, he knew this wasn’t her style. She preferred subtler moves, pieces placed years in advance.
His gaze returned to the footage of Miss Arc. The Grimm had fixated on her with unsettling precision. On the surface, she was merely another scion of the Arc lineage - a family whose roots ran deep in Vale’s history.
Unless...
A secret? Something that had slipped through the cracks of his vigilance?
Private conversations would be necessary. Multiple ones, carefully staged to seem casual yet probing. Which meant ensuring she had a place at Beacon.
The screen darkened at his touch as he closed the footage. His fingers moved across the team registration forms.
Team JPYB (Jasper) Team Leader: Jeanne d’Arc
Centuries of experience had taught him to trust his instincts. This year promised to be... interesting.
And in his experience, interesting years had a way of shifting the board entirely.
