That was a weird-ass dream.
"Nex."
Believe it or not, one could glance at Nexus Shade and find nothing out of the ordinary.
A fair-skinned boy with a nest of black hair, wrapped in plain black slacks and an even plainer grey jacket. Certainly nothing extraordinary about the lithe teen in his school uniform. But still, a closer look would reveal golden eyes hiding behind baggy eyelids, along with a pair of lupine ears lying asleep on his scalp.
"Nex. Are you even listening to me?"
Nex sank deeper into his seat, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He had to steal every second of sleep he could get his eyes on.
When the bell rang, the sixteen-year-old would storm out of the classroom. He had to make it. Atlesian lien never made itself, and he had to take every job available to maintain their flat and pay for combat school—all while staying under the radar. The work would keep him out until midnight, and when he came home, he would pick up his weapons and train until the crack of dawn.
Admittedly, he adopted an impulsive, obsessive, and gruelling routine, but sleep would come with its blissful embrace during first period.
World History. No love lost there.
"Nexus Shade!"
Weiss Schnee shrieked the full name directly into his ear.
Nex lurched from his seat, stiffening like a ramrod. He wilted under the frigid, blue-eyed stare of his lab partner, his wolf ears standing in rapt attention.
Her outburst was understandable. Even expected. He did take a nap while she did all of the work herself.
"Sorry," Nex muttered under his breath.
And he was truly sorry.
But he could not give any excuses.
Never could.
Weiss Schnee would not understand, considering her background. But still, most people would have given an arm and their left testicle just to be Weiss Schnee's lab partner. She was smart, talented, and absolutely so far out of his league that she was probably stranded in a mansion on the moon.
Corporate heiress, world-renowned singer, and always on top of her entire class—Weiss Schnee was destined for great things.
While Nexus Shade was the son of a dead huntress. And a sperm donor that never even bothered to show up for the funeral.
Weiss shoved a slip of paper in his face. "It's fine. Just sign your name here. It was easier finishing it on my own."
Ouch. That stung.
But he did what Weiss asked.
Believe it or not, they were not friends.
Were they even acquaintances?
To her, he was probably just another face in the adoring public. Albeit, one that sat next to her during Dust Practical and popped one of her blood vessels or two. To him—
Actually, what exactly was she to him?
They never talked much or hung out. But seeing as his chances with her were smack dab between only in my wildest dreams and a snowball's chance in Vacuo, it would only turn out to be a waste of time and a lot of trouble.
Nope. He already had a lot of that to deal with. It was easier to not think of Weiss in any way at all.
"Thanks," Nex said, offering her his best smile. Well, the best he could muster. "You're a lifesaver, Weiss."
Weiss scowled. "You should take this more seriously, Shade. You're training to be a huntsman—a future defender of humanity. Lives could be lost someday if you slack off in class."
And it was back to the surname.
He did take it seriously, but she would not have understood.
Nex almost closed his eyes, if not for the fact that doing so would push the volatile Mt. Weiss into a volcanic eruption. Instead, he crossed his arms, leaning into the soft backrest of his chair. The hood wrapped around his jacket just so happened to fall over his eyes.
Nex smiled, sucking on the sweet, strawberry fabric.
But the darkness turned into light, snatched away by a pale hand.
"You're not seriously going back to sleep, are you?" Weiss said, fixing him a glare. "Bad enough that I was paired up with someone like you, but then you also don't participate in class."
Nex shrugged, meeting her pale blue eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm tired."
Tired was the understatement of the semester.
Maybe even his entire life.
"That's not an excuse," Weiss said, raising her chin even more. "It's your responsibility to get enough sleep so you can function at your best."
Right. Easy for her to say. She probably had people to tend to her needs and a butt-load of cash to spend freely.
He had nothing and no one but himself.
But lashing out at his lab partner would have been unfair. She did not carry the blame for his circumstances.
Weiss frowned. "Listen. If you apply yourself a little harder, you might earn a place among the top five of our class. I've seen your grades. With how high they are without you even—"
"I try plenty hard," Nex said, turning away from her ageing tirade. It was starting to ferment into bad wine. "Trust me."
He barely had time to do homework and projects between his job and training.
But he managed.
Barely being the operative word.
Nex poked the result of today's dust experiment, some sort of benign mixture of ice and gravity dust swirling inside a flask. The mechanisms behind it were probably simple, elementary dust reactions. Ice dust formed snow particles. Gravity dust provided the disruptive force that ensured the ice dust never reached equilibrium.
For fuck's sake, it was nothing but a fancy snow globe.
It was probably useless on the field.
Independent use of ice dust or gravity dust would have provided far more efficient results without the risk of the mixture exploding in his face. But he certainly knew better than to let Weiss hear his exact thoughts. The exact thoughts on their project she finished alone.
The bell rang.
Nex stood up before his lab partner could, swiping the snow globe and the slip of paper so he could turn them in.
"I owe you one, Weiss," Nex said, breaking into a mad dash. "Sorry for being such a crappy lab partner."
"Just try a little bit more," Weiss whispered under her breath, probably expecting him to be out of earshot.
Not that it was any of his business.
The maze passed in a blur.
Nex weaved around boys flexing by the windows and girls gossiping about said boys, eliciting annoyed screams from some of them and threats of dismemberment from others.
Believe it or not, violence was encouraged in combat schools. It was in the name.
He ignored them. They would forget about him tonight. And the process would repeat itself tomorrow.
Nex broke through the school gates, taking a sharp right into the sprawling, urban jungle of Atlas. Shadows of mechanical skyscrapers loomed over neon-lit streets. He strained his wolf ears, making out the rumble of the engines that kept Atlas afloat. It resembled the belly of the beast—a roar, the flushing of a toilet, and a baby's burp.
He slipped between the sliding doors of the Huntsman's Respite. The stench of alcohol and sweat trampled over the hairs of his nose, just as the multi-coloured lights stabbed his faunus eyes. He made his way to the glass counter. His boss was standing there, grey eyes boring into his.
Mekel tossed him a suit and barked at him to get changed.
His shift had officially started.
Nex stood behind the counter and mixed drinks for the guests. They tore up the dance floor, wasting their lives away. His weapon sat by his feet—just in case someone got frisky and started a brawl. But still, if he had his way, there would be no need to draw his sword and shield.
"Hey, kid," a familiar, raspy voice said. "Fancy seeing you here."
Nex put down the mug he was wiping with more force than usual. If he had his way, he would be reaching for his sword and shield. "Qrow Branwen," he said. "Here for a drink?"
A decade had passed since that fateful night, but as the saying went: an axe forgets, but the tree remembers.
Nexus Shade stared into the huntsman's eyes.
To be fair, Qrow Branwen broke eye contact first.
The music transitioned into a song with a slow beat, something that lay between pop and EDM. Despite the change, the frantic dancing still looked as pointless and as draining as ever. The rush hour lay dying, croaking for its last breath, but there were still plenty of people out to enjoy the Atlesian nightlife.
"I'm not surprised the bartender knows you, Qrow," a feminine voice said.
The white-haired huntress sat on the stool beside Qrow, tapping the glass counter with a short, polished nail. She wore a conservative coat and skirt combo—white with black accents. It contrasted the huntsman attire that seemed to be the only thing Qrow ever wore.
Not a date then.
Maybe a casual acquaintance.
The sabre fastened to her belt revealed she was a huntress, but absolutely nothing else. At least, not without pushing his semblance into overdrive.
"Fuck off, ice queen," Qrow said, sparing the huntress a red-eyed look. "Give me some of the special."
Definitely not a date.
Nex mixed said special with little trouble. It was the easiest shooter from the book he memorized.
Mekel drilled the art of mixing into his skull until he could come up with drinks in his sleep. Which is what he most certainly looked like right now: a half-asleep, bleary-eyed zombie mixing alcohol behind a glass counter.
"A flight of everything you have, please," the huntress said, placing the appropriate amount of lien on the counter.
She definitely looked familiar, with her high cheekbones, pale skin, and sculpted lips. The white hair and the sophisticated accent were more uncommon. Only one person really came to mind.
Shit.
He was really out of it if the first person he thought about in the bar was Weiss.
Nex nodded, matching the brittle smile the huntress wore. He served her a dozen samples of their finest drinks.
She accepted the selection with a curt nod.
"So..."
Qrow broke the lull that came over them.
Although, was there really even a them?
Nexus Shade was just an ordinary bartender serving drinks to his guests. He most certainly did not come here to hang out. Apparently, neither did the huntress, wearing a flat face like she did.
"You work here?" Qrow said, tipping a shot of the special into his throat.
"Seeing as I'm the one mixing the drinks," Nex said, mixing another drink, "you might want to ask another question, birdbrain."
The huntress smirked, glancing at the birdbrain's empty shot glass—the only one of its kind. "Clearly, you've had too much to drink if you failed to grasp something so obvious."
Nex smiled, humming to himself as he wiped a mug. Qrow's first shot and the huntress already called him a lightweight. Sick burn. It earned the huntress a spot on his list of cool adults, taking the place right under Mekel.
Qrow moaned into the counter. "Ganged up by a cheeky brat and an ice queen. I'll drink until I pass out."
"Yeah, you do that," Nex said, rolling his eyes. "As long as you pay your tab and don't throw up on the counter, you'll be fine."
"Tab?" Qrow said, lifting his face from the glass. There was a smudge that looked suspiciously like his ugly face. "I already have a tab?"
"I'd be more surprised if there was an establishment that didn't have your tab," the huntress said. "But your, ahem, notoriety is quite admirable."
"Gee, thanks," Qrow said, grimacing at the compliment. "How's school?"
Nex quirked an eyebrow, wiping the smudge with a wet rag. "Fine."
Qrow grinned, cupping his mouth in a faux whisper. He leaned forward. "Just fine? No breads in the oven? No eggs in the pan?"
The huntress' eyes narrowed, seemingly unimpressed with her male counterpart. "I can still hear you. You do know that, correct?"
"No one asked you, ice queen," Qrow said, leaning back into his stool. "Why are you even here?"
The huntress barely touched her drinks, only taking small sips every now and then. Clearly, she did not come here for the exquisite company. She turned her nose up at the sweaty dancing, catching some heads—mostly the male kind. Heads that turned away after she shot them a frigid glare.
"General Ironwood ordered me to act as your shadow for the duration of your stay in Atlas," the huntress said. "As an Atlesian specialist, it is not my place to question his orders."
Qrow stifled a sigh, knocking back another shot. He gestured to keep them coming. "Jimmy's playing cock-block. Great. Don't be like the ice queen, kid. Or gods forbid, date someone like her."
He was definitely going to keep that in mind. Someone a little warmer than an ice cube would be great. But a warm ice cube would be fine as well.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" the huntress said with a short hiccup. "Am I not desirable?"
Qrow returned to his faux-whispering. He wagged his finger at the scowling huntress. "See? The thing with women is, if she asks something like that, you shouldn't answer. It's a trap card. One of the best they have."
Her ears reddened.
Nex smiled. "What should I do then, if a hypothetical woman does ask me this exact question?"
Not that anyone came to mind.
"Say she's desirable," Qrow said. "Or don't. Either way, you're screwed."
Nex placed another shot in front of the birdbrain. "But you're the one who said not to answer."
Qrow downed it with one gulp. "Look, kid. Am I the cool, expert uncle or am I the broody teen who's having trouble with his dating life?"
"I'm not having trouble with my dating life," Nex said. It was the glaring flaw in the birdbrain's statement. "It's non-existent. A non-priority."
Besides, the only women he had ever met were either too psychopathic, taken, or way out of his league. Not a lot of good choices there.
Why was he even thinking about this, anyway?
There were far more important things to consider.
Nex served another drink to a familiar huntsman, taking the lien from the regular. He smiled even as the huntsman sneered at him, blue eyes fixed on the ears attached to his head.
"That's admirable," the huntress said, definitely throwing him a bone. "Too many teenagers get hooked on casual dating and neglect their education."
"Booooriiiiing," Qrow said. "I thought you were cool. I really did."
The huntress finally found the courage to down a shot of thick alcohol. "There's nothing wrong with a good work ethic, is there? I, for one, am quite happy that my little sister hasn't had the pleasure of going on a date."
"Shit," Qrow said. "There's a littler ice queen? Gods forbid."
Nex busied himself with wiping the counter.
Qrow and the huntress bickered like teacher and student. Seeing as how the huntress seemed at least one generation younger than Qrow, it looked to be exactly that. A reunion between student and teacher in one of the city's less than reputable establishments.
Well, good for them.
It was almost midnight when Qrow collapsed on the counter.
The huntress smiled apologetically, shaking her head in exasperation. It seemed to be a genuine one, perhaps the very first of its kind on her lips.
The evening had been a marathon, but their on-and-off conversations made it shorter. Honestly, it was probably the reason why no one talked to him at school. That, or his wolf ears. No time to find out exactly which.
Although the latter seemed more likely.
The red-faced huntress hiccupped, fumbling with her words. "I'll take care of Qrow. He's staying in Atlas Academy under heavy watch so he can't sneak out and escape."
Nex shrugged, bobbing his head into a nod. Was the huntress joking or was Qrow really under house arrest?
"Great," he said.
The huntress paid for Qrow's tab, leaving at least a thousand lien for the tip.
Nex made sure to convey his thanks for the exorbitant amount, which the huntress acknowledged with a drooping nod.
He glanced at his scroll. Two minutes after midnight. Every muscle in his deceptive physique knew what that meant.
Fuck.
Nexus Shade groaned.
At the prospect of tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Nex?"
Roman Torchwick's voice rang from the other end of the line.
Nex lifted the bagel to his mouth, taking a small bite so he could chew and swallow quickly. Years of practice definitely made him the most efficient person in the entire district. He ate with one hand and held his scroll with the other.
Darkness shrouded their flat, the lights having been switched off for almost a decade straight. It posed no problem for his eyes and it saved on the electricity bill. Plus, it dissuaded would-be robbers. No one wanted to rob a seemingly abandoned house.
His scroll displayed no recognizable face, only an outline of a comical hat and a talking cigar.
Honestly, Roman did not need such an identifier. The man was his most consistent client. He had supplied the thief with intel on dust, shipments, and security when he was still a rising star in the underworld.
Now that the thief was top dog, the only thing that changed was the cut Roman paid for his skills as a hacker, an analyst, and an informant.
An anonymous thief, in the master criminal's words.
But still, he could not freely spend the ill-gotten cash. The flow of lien could be easily tracked by those with the right know-how. Amateurs exposed themselves by going on a spending spree after a heist. Subtler methods were preferable for his anonymous thievery—receiving his cut via more physical means, depositing lien in hidden caches, and only spending a very, very small amount for his allowance.
The amount he used could be explained away as generous tips from the Huntsman's Respite. But there was a limit on the people's generosity—a limit only a fool would test before the eyes of the law.
Nex swallowed before responding. "Shade here. Line secured. What's the job, Torch?"
He still needed his official job at the bar.
His other, less-reputable job just meant he had a fall-back plan in case shit hit the toilet.
If Atlas discovered he was acting as a criminal's enabler, or if the Grimm razed the city, then he had enough lien in a suitcase to go on a very quiet vacation somewhere in the sands of Vacuo.
He could forge himself a different identity. Maybe he could even get his huntsman license from Shade Academy instead of Beacon.
A change of scenery would be nice.
"It's SDC," Roman said. "I'll have Neo give you a scroll."
Roman Torchwick sounded like he was getting even less sleep than Nexus Shade.
Nex snorted. As if that was even possible.
Roman had his matching tuxedoed goons.
He had no one but himself.
Oh well, oh well.
Speak of the she-devil.
Heeled footsteps padded into the living room. Mismatched eyes peered through the blackness.
The midget smirked, twirling an umbrella over her head.
Neopolitan. Roman's sociopathic little helper.
She was certainly more sociopathic than him. Harmless enough without provocation, but unpredictable enough that he had to be wary. Maybe that was exactly why they both stayed on Roman's payroll.
Nex raised the half-eaten bagel towards the mute minx. "Breakfast?"
Neo shook her head. She tossed a scroll towards him.
Nex caught it with his feet, pushing his back into the couch. He placed his own scroll on the rough fabric, turning his attention to Neo's delivery, even as Roman hung up.
The thief's scroll was pinned between his bare feet.
Nex kicked it towards the ceiling. It fell to the pull of gravity. He caught it with his free hand.
"There's some ice cream in the fridge," Nex said. "Light switch is right behind you."
Neo made straight for the fridge, ignoring the light switch. She rummaged around the freezer, pulling out a carton of branded ice cream. The fancy kind reserved as bribery for his mute coworker. She pulled out a spoon from her pocket, flashing him a smile and a wink.
Neo disappeared with the crackle of darkness.
His wolf ears picked up no other heartbeats in the room aside from his.
Sighing, he switched on Roman's scroll.
Rows of data flashed on the screen. Most of them the thief took from SDC server leaks and public news clippings. A fair amount he received through confidential mail from an informant inside the SDC.
Anonymous, of course.
In their line of work, the lien in their pockets and their set of skills identified people better than their names.
Nex zoomed in on a nice little picture of a mech.
It stood at least ten feet. Mounted dust canons, automated AI, and thick titanium plates that could easily withstand the claws of Grimm. It probably cost a buttload of lien, even more if sold to the right bidder. The only one with resources on hand to produce it was the SDC. It was probably why the military was working with them.
Roman Torchwick. What were you up to this time?
Nex closed his eyes, pushing his semblance into full overdrive. The lines of meaningless data coalesced into something concrete in his mind, forming a spiderweb that would take others months to decipher, much less create.
And then he just knew.
Nex pressed a few buttons on Roman's scroll, sending the important details his semblance gleaned.
Roman sent him a quick thanks before the screen fizzled, its internal systems going kaboom to erase the evidence.
Neo would definitely teleport in after he left. She would leave a briefcase of lien on the couch, as per their standard agreement.
Admittedly, getting paid five digits of cash for five minutes of his time was cheap. But he could not actually spend it all at once, so it balanced out in a weird, karmic way.
Ten minutes later, Nex left their flat.
A fifteen-minute jog through the cosmopolitan heartland of Atlas led to its premier and only combat school.
Atlas Primary.
He enrolled at Atlas Primary four years ago. It cost him a fortune of lien. Enough lien that the authorities almost evicted him from their flat, if not for a fateful meeting between a desperate faunus and an even more desperate thief.
He started it. It was too late to end it. He could only adapt in the best way he could. But if he had his way, he would be on a beach enjoying a glass of stirred martini and the company of his shut-eye.
Admittedly, he loved the idea more than the actuality. But what lay in his thoughts was nothing more than a meaningless dream.
It was time to attend to reality.
"Hey, Shade."
Nex groaned, sinking deeper into his desk. The musk of lien floated off the mahogany.
How much money did the asshats in the government invest into this school, anyway?
"It's about the Schnee."
Nex blinked.
A tanned girl crossed her arms over his desk. Her eyes were a peculiar blend of green and yellow. A faunus.
He offered her a deadpan stare. Her freckled cheeks puffed up.
"You're a faunus, aren't you? What's this about Weiss?" Nex said, not bothering to lower his voice.
It was starting to develop an odd rasp. Impossible to scratch away.
The slim, brown-haired girl flinched, even more so when the few dozen students in the room turned their heads. She was lucky there were still twenty minutes before World History, the bulk of the students just starting to enter the classroom, trickling in pairs or trios.
"If she's holding something over your head, forcing you to be submissive, you can tell us," the girl said, raising a fist. "We faunus have to stick together."
Wait, what?
Him. Submissive. What the hell.
The stimuli from the classroom vanished.
Nex racked his brain for whatever could have led the girl to that particular conclusion, but the only times he and Weiss ever talked was in Dust Practical. Maybe the girl formed her conclusion because Weiss did all of the work in the lab. He thanked her for that. Well, he really did. But then again, his overreliance on Weiss hardly seemed to be submissive.
In fact, it inched closer to being lazy—an accusation he never once denied.
Nex yawned, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "Nope. Weiss isn't what you think she is. She's great. And whatever preconceptions you may have about the SDC, you really should learn how to separate the Schnee from the Weiss."
It made perfect sense.
But the girl's scrunched-up face implied otherwise.
Nex groaned, shrinking into his dark paradise. "Nevermind. Just separate the Schnee from the Weiss and you'll be fine."
Yep. That was his story. And he was sticking to it, even if the familiar beating in Weiss' chest seemed closer and louder than it really should have been.
Whatever.
Nex drifted into neverland, just as the teacher finished waffling about the Faunus Rights Revolution and the Mantle Frequency.
When he woke up, it was to the shuffling of students dripping out of the classroom. The teachers had definitely gotten used to his odd sleeping habits. But still, they only let it slide because his grades stood well above the passing average. And that was all that his grades had always been. Adequate, with the exception of combat classes.
He had to thank Amariss for those.
Nex hauled himself to his feet, slipping through the cracks in the stream of students. He passed by the lockers, typing the combination to his own. 4444. A strong contender for the most uninspired passcode ever, along with 0000.
The locker opened with a sharp hiss.
Inside was Hrunting—his trusty sword. On the surface, it was nothing more than a longsword with a double-barrelled shotgun affixed to its hilt.
Hrunting was sheathed inside Vigilance, his mother's old scabbard and heater shield, modified by him to suit his needs. Individually, they were capable of carrying him through most fights.
But united, they became capable of doing so much more.
Hrunting and Vigilance was his very own personal weapon, and half of it was the last birthday gift his mother ever gave him.
Black feathers burst on its surface.
Nex shook his head. Oathkeeper hung over the fireplace in their flat. Dual-wielding in school would attract a lot of attention. It was a rare style, difficult to master and even more difficult to learn, but his semblance provided an amazing shortcut. One he would be remiss not to abuse.
Second period of the second semester started without a hitch.
Nex sat alone on top of the bleachers, a hand propping his chin. The rest of his classmates preferred to sit as close as possible to the battlefield. It was nothing more than a glorified, indoor volleyball court. A barrier bounded the grassy field a few feet away from the bleachers.
His classmates wasted quite the perspective, sitting as close as they did.
Good for them though.
"For the first match, we have Weiss Schnee and Nexus Shade."
Nex took a long, deep breath. His dreams of sleeping through Advanced Combat veered off a cliff and died.
Somehow, it was all that faunus girl's fault.
Nex schooled his expression into a deadpan, leaping off the bleachers. His hood fluttered against the breeze. Aura coated his legs, breaking the force of his impact as he landed with a thud.
What could he possibly say?
Gravitational transport was a lot faster than going down the bleachers on foot.
All eyes turned to his lab partner.
Weiss Schnee marched on the grass with the air of a woman on a mission. She held her multi-action dust rapier with her left hand. Her feet parted, assuming a standard fencing stance. Her pale blue eyes betrayed nothing. But her heart pounded, like war drums against the embroidered fabric of her dress.
Nex slouched in place and almost dozed off.
But the resulting lecture would have taken longer.
Instead, he drew Hrunting with a quiet rasp. His left hand lingered on Vigilance, his collapsed shield begging for a taste of battle.
Seconds passed as the professor waited for the combatants to declare themselves ready.
No.
The only weapon he ever used in school was Hrunting in its most basic form. Not even his whole weapon.
It was going to stay that way, if he had anything to do about it.
Nex shook his head, easing his longsword into a one-handed grip. "Ready."
"I'm ready, Professor Tree," Weiss said, raising her dust rapier into a salute. "May we have a fair and honourable match."
Nex scoffed, rolling his eyes. There was nothing honourable or fair about combat. Or life in general.
The hard light barriers engaged with the whirring of machinery, trapping them inside the field with transparent walls. The arena used a dampening system, filtering all sounds coming in and out of the battlefield as soon as the barriers were engaged. Distractions such as noise would have detrimental effects on the combatants, especially if they happened to have enhanced senses.
Case in point—him.
To her credit, Weiss refrained from lunging in with her rapier. Exploiting her light unarmoured weight and above-average speed was a staple opening move in almost all of her matches.
Instead, she glared at him. Definitely at his lackadaisical stance.
She stepped to her right, tracing an arc that would never really go anywhere.
A waste of energy.
"What's your game?" Weiss said, her eyes narrowing into icy slits.
"Game?" Nex said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not playing. I'll have you know. I'm quite serious about this."
Weiss flinched as if she was struck. She recovered quickly, returning to her well-rehearsed stance. But even if she had not, he would still have passed on the odd opening. She was standing too far away. It would leave him vulnerable if he committed to an attack.
And he definitely meant what he said.
He was totally serious. Sleep was on the line. How much he could still get depended on how fast he could win their spar. Losing by forfeit was out of the question. He hated losing, even if that aversion was deemed irrational by his brain.
Weiss had the first strike. She lunged at him, rapier held out into a telegraphed thrust.
Nex stepped a little to the right, letting the Weiss-shaped blur miss by an inch.
As long as he dodged her attacks, she would be the one losing out on their trades.
Heels screeched against a glyph.
Weiss was planning to slide into another lunge.
Nex stepped a little to the left.
Weiss grazed his exposed back, dreadfully overextended as she returned to where she originally was. Droplets of sweat glimmered on her face.
She raised her rapier, shifting her legs for another lunge.
"Why not counter?" Weiss said. She was buying time to regain her breath. Smart move. "I've seen how quickly you finish the others off."
Nex shrugged. Come to think of it, this was their first time together. "The others aren't as fluid. I'll just stand here and watch you."
Attacking would leave him open. Defence guaranteed no openings and plenty of opportunities for a critical counter. That was his story. He was sticking to it. It was definitely not because his body dragged heavier than usual, his eyelids fighting to even stay half-closed.
Weiss growled. "I'm not giving you any openings that you could exploit."
And she did not need to.
His semblance buzzed in his head, like Amariss telling him everything was going to be okay.
Weiss lunged like an angry cheetah, an array of white glyphs spinning behind her. She accelerated after a few seconds, her speed blurring into inhuman heights.
A good effort.
But she overlooked a critical flaw when moving at speeds alien to human physiology.
Reaction time.
A driver could not turn if he was going too fast on the road. The same was especially true for huntsmen and huntresses without a specialized speed semblance.
Or a cheetah faunus or something.
Nex stifled a yawn, stepping out of her predetermined flight path. He slashed. The silver crescent. An iai-jutsu technique adapted for use with Hrunting.
The Weiss-shaped blur smashed into the flat of his blade. Her eyes bulged from their sockets.
Hrunting pressed into her diaphragm, pushing it up to her lungs.
Weiss flopped and tumbled, crashing face-first into the wet grass. The morning dew stained the whites and blue of her dress, colouring it with shades of brown and green.
She was lucky.
If he used the sharp end of his sword, then she would have been bleeding to death instead of nursing a bruise.
Maybe even cut in half, all things considered.
Physics was a bitch and a half.
A bitch no man escaped.
The giant screen reflected the damage to her aura, the bar under the Schnee snowflake dipping from green to red.
The third law of motion and her low aura reserves conspired against her. When two objects interacted, they applied forces of equal magnitude and opposite direction to each other.
At the speed she moved, redirecting her force and letting Weiss defeat herself was too easy.
The bar under his emblem barely budged from full capacity. Another victory for the two swords clashing over a kite shield.
"And the match goes to Nexus Shade."
At the end of the day, he won because of a gimmick, and probably because Weiss hyper-fixated on one attack instead of using her absurd, versatile semblance.
The crowd laughed and jeered as he helped Weiss to her feet.
His lab partner coughed, her hands trying to smoothen the creases of her dress. She glared at the rowdy audience with frosty eyes.
Why were they even laughing? Were they laughing at Weiss, him, or something else entirely?
Their jeers were probably directed against him, but he never claimed to be mister popular.
Nex spun to face the crowd, his brain spitting out a retort straight from the bowels of Mantle. "Your laughs mean nothing! I've seen what makes you cry!"
They piped down.
Good.
Silence.
"Miss Schnee, your fencing technique is excellent as always. But a varied approach would be more appropriate against a calculating adversary like Mr Shade. Perhaps next time, use your semblance along with some dust."
The professor rambled on with his stupid, nasally voice, standing amidst the peanut gallery.
"Once again, Mr Shade, I reckon that your adoring audience wants a demonstration on how you actually fight, not on how you win in a one-sided manner. Try not to make a habit out of winning spars with a single strike. And also, do try to stop being so lazy and move a little, will you?"
The laughs returned, this time even louder.
Weiss' cheeks reddened as she clipped her weapon to her waist. She refused to meet his eyes, instead choosing to contemplate her navel.
Nex sighed. Silencing the crowd was futile.
Eventually, the laughter died on its own.
"Regardless," the professor said. "There is a reason why Mr Shade is at the top of this class. You would do well to understand why and seek to emulate his example."
Nex groaned, palming his forehead.
The professor wanted the others to emulate his laziness.
Great.
Now he could add being a bad influence to the list entitled Reasons Why I'm Not Okay (I Promise).
"It was an enlightening bout," Weiss said, her lips taut as rubber bands. "Thank you for the match."
Weiss peered through her eyelashes, her head bowed low. She spun and marched away, her boots crunching over the grass.
Nex yawned as he made his way up the bleachers, looking for his lost shut-eye.
What a strange morning.
Chapter 3
Rain whipped against the stone. Lightning and thunder clashed in the acrid skies, re-enacting a war no historian could recall.
And he could definitely not care less. Instead, he crouched over the dead earth, holding an umbrella over his head. He wiped the mud-caked inscription with his handkerchief, the brown staining the white.
Classes had been dismissed early due to the thunderstorm, a normality caused by another failed joint experiment between the SDC and the military. The media was having a field day with the incident, with most of the outlets reporting about an important egghead's death. One would think that Atlas would already be used to failed experiments and the like, just like how it got used to its numerous celebrities.
But maybe that was expecting too much from people.
And maybe Roman had something to do with the failed experiment.
Nex shook his head. That SDC shipment would not be available for a few more months.
Not that he wanted to go home, not just yet. He had to make a stop first. The rain could not stop him.
Never could.
In Loving Memory of Amariss Shade. Dead due to life circumstances.
He giggled at the inscription. His mother would have laughed at the morbidity of the statement. She was cool like that.
Nex dropped a bouquet of white flowers on the chipped, polished stone. "Happy birthday, mom."
The pitter-patter of rain waltzed on his umbrella.
Nex stood there—a passenger on the boat of time. A few years ago, he would have raged and cursed at the heavens. Now, he was too tired and too lazy to even scream. His mother would be rolling in her actual grave if she saw what he had become.
"Kid," someone else under his umbrella rasped. "Mary wouldn't want you to get sick like this. She'd want you to go home."
Nex sighed, closing his umbrella. He spun on his heel, slashing at Qrow with the implement.
Neo had to be on to something with her parasol-fu, right?
The bastard dodged the half-hearted blow, quirking an eyebrow, crimson eyes fixed on his footwork.
The rain drenched the both of them.
The world was definitely none the better for it.
"She wouldn't want to be dead either," Nex said, holding the umbrella by his side. There was no point in using the implement for its intended purpose. He was already soaked. "You'll forgive me if I beat your smelly ass with this umbrella."
Qrow chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. He could have definitely cut the umbrella in half with the sword tucked under his cape. "You know, you remind me of her."
"Sure," Nex said, rolling his eyes. He turned to face the silent memorial. "Let's go with that."
Once upon a time, he would have really done it. He would have beaten Qrow with an umbrella, the age difference between them be damned. But the huntsman never showed up for the funeral. No one did. It rained. He was there. Holding an umbrella over his mom.
Then he withdrew from public school to settle his mother's assets. Afterwards, he returned as if nothing happened. Whether it was out of pride or something else, he definitely had no clue. But still, he strummed to the beat of life, maintaining some semblance of normalcy. And then his rhythm began to slip. Atlas was difficult enough for a single huntress raising a small child. And he had only been seven. No one cared about his circumstances, especially since he was just another face in the crowd. Atlas was definitely the wrong kingdom for that. The wrong kingdom for empathy.
Thus, he descended into low-profile theft, morally ambiguous work, and playing guitar outside the Huntsman's Respite—anything a seven-year-old orphan could do to survive on the floating city of Atlas. He made a promise. And his mother was definitely proud of him. Everything he did was enough to pay for the bills and put some food in his belly. Kids his age played in the park and cried about scraped knees. But not the orphaned ones. Not Nexus Shade. He assumed the role of a kid too busy playing an adult.
"I'm serious, you know," Qrow said. "You're strong. Just like Mary."
Nex chuckled, his throat coiling like a Taijitu. "She wasn't strong enough. If she was, she'd still be here."
Pitter-patter. Pitter. The rain crashed through the clouds. If only he would melt so the rain could wash him away.
It would be easy.
Too easy.
His fist clenched.
"Why'd she die?" Nex said, his eyes narrowing. "You and that silver-eyed huntress. You were there."
Qrow glanced at the memorial, fingering a flask peeking out of his pocket. "Grimm. The Grimm got her."
Nex resisted the urge to throttle the birdbrain and commit second-degree murder. It was definitely animal abuse. "Liar."
"Not lying," Qrow said, bringing the flask to his mouth. "Drink?"
Nex took the proffered flask, glancing at the swill inside before he took a sip. The whiskey scorched the back of his throat, liquid fire swimming into his belly. "Not the real reason then. The Grimm killed her, but it was more than just that."
Qrow retrieved his flask and took a swig. How he could stomach such a bitter brew was a mystery. "Kid, if there's one thing I've learned in life, is that there's always more than meets the eye. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"What?" Nex said, his jaw clenching.
Qrow rubbed his temples like he was coming on with a migraine. "Look, surviving every day's nice and dandy, but you gotta have some purpose. Live a little. Not everyone can survive forever."
A purpose for living.
He never really thought about it. Admittedly, the bustling city life—training, studying, and working—had numbed him to anything else. If he graduated from prep school then he would move on to one of the huntsman academies. He would graduate, receive his huntsman license, and follow in his mother's footsteps.
The master plan.
And then?
Nothing really came to mind. But that was most certainly not what Qrow meant when he asked.
"I don't know," Nex said, shrugging. "Want me to seek revenge?"
Qrow laughed for the first time. "Revenge for what? It wouldn't bring Mary back."
Nex nodded. Exactly. Revenge would not have brought her back. Nothing would. Not unless someone out there had a semblance that revived people. That would have been a sight to see.
"Find something else. Find somebody. Anything. You're young," Qrow said. "There's gotta be something or someone out there that can hold your attention without you falling asleep."
Nex stared at the endless Atlesian skyline, at the storm raging on the horizon. "Maybe there is something or someone. I can think of one or two. What's yours?"
"That's easy," Qrow said with a tall nod. "I've got certain people and kids I care about. I fight Grimm so they can have peaceful lives."
Was it really that easy?
Nex turned his back on his mother's memorial. This purpose business would solve itself in the future. His thoughts were swirling. He needed a break.
"I'm going to the bar," Nex said. "See you there?"
You could take the Nex out of the obsession, but you could not take the obsession out of the Nex. He smiled at Mekel's barely coherent jab at his workaholic tendencies. No doubt the Huntsman's Respite would be busy. With the storm over their heads, people needed to be in high spirits. No other place served that purpose better than a bar.
"Not this time, kid. I've got a mission," Qrow said. "Top secret military style. Don't tell the Schnee that I told you."
Nex raised an eyebrow. "Weiss Schnee?"
Qrow grinned. Definitely at something he said. "Winter Schnee. Remember the ice queen?"
Apparently, Qrow's huntress friend was Weiss' sister. And he definitely had no clue his lab partner had a sister. Older than her, judging from the woman's much more developed physique. But he could hardly blame himself. He never really talked to Weiss about stuff like family. Most of the time, it was dust this and dust that. Or better yet, it was wake up, Nex and you lazy dolt. Or the best ones—are you even listening? and ugh, I give up.
Safe stuff. School stuff. Never stuff that could have been a minefield.
"Sure," Nex said. "Not like I could tell the ice queen even if I wanted to."
When Nex arrived at the Huntsman's Respite, it was to the sight of a near-empty establishment. The storm had knocked out most of the electricity in the red-light district.
Mekel stood in the middle of the club, dominating the dance floor. The grizzled man scowled at his goons. They were trying to put together what seemed to be a cross between a turtle and a giant robot. Wires popped out of the device, sending sparks racing through the wet air.
The goon fiddling with the biggest wire cursed as it fizzled. "This isn't worth it!"
"It better be worth it!" Mekel said, the bearded man waving his fist. "I'm not losing any more lien to this dust-forsaken storm."
Nex leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his dripping jacket. "Is this a bad time?"
Mekel grinned, his eyes brightening. "Nexus Shade. You're a sight for sore eyes. Get over here."
An hour passed by the time Nex finished tinkering with the generator. The rain crashed harder, even as the first few customers slipped through the door, dragging wet shoes and clothes through the club. The huntsmen and huntresses sat on the velvet couches, exchanging gossip and imbibing spirits. A classical ballad cooed through the speakers, a welcome relief from the mindless beats that typically filled the club.
The Huntsman's Respite straddled the line between the red light and the central districts—the closest club to Atlas Primary. It was hardly surprising when a few storm-struck civilians entered the establishment, tugging off their suits and placing them on one of the coat racks by the door. The racks normally went unused, and some of Mekel's goons had to wipe them down just for the evening. The civilians formed their own little circle, sitting away from the armed men and women—regulars of the aptly named Huntsman's Respite.
Nex slumped into his very own table, nursing a half-empty mug of iced tea. His clothes dried an hour ago, thanks to the toasty heater Mekel managed to dig out. His usually slicked-back hair fell in wavy tresses, brushing his cheeks and exposing his wolf ears for all of the patrons to see. But still, not a single patron spared him a glance or shared his table. Dressed in his Atlas Primary uniform, he probably looked every bit the confused teenager who was in way over his head. The only things missing were mascara, a cigar, and some hair dye. If he managed those, then Nexus Shade could resemble a stereotypical Roman Torchwick going through an angsty, rebellious phase.
Nex winced at the build-up of white noise, his ears flattening on his scalp.
A familiar hand placed a familiar weapon on the glass. The crystal-white rapier stared at his face, even as its owner placed a hand on her hip.
"Nex," Weiss Schnee said, still dressed in her uniform. Black splotches stained her grey coat. Mud caked her black stockings, barely noticeable under the calm, fluorescent lights. "What are you doing here?"
Nex heaved a sigh as she took the seat right across him. "I could ask you the same. This is... well..."
His semblance could already predict the gaze of the civilians and the huntsmen alike. No doubt Weiss looked familiar, even as she let down her damp ponytail and pressed it with a towel. Some of the less-reputable goons shuffled in their seats, whispering and staring at the woman seated across him.
Nex lifted his head from the table, sweeping his eyes around the club. His hand brushed Hrunting and Vigilance, the weapon propped up against a nearby pillar. Half of the onlookers looked away. The other half continued drinking as if nothing happened. They were huntsmen and huntresses—regulars who knew his face and the sharpness of his sword. The civilians simply knew better.
"I was looking for refuge from the storm," Weiss said, totally oblivious to the atmosphere. He could not possibly blame her. It was probably her first time in this kind of place. Right now, the club looked like some sort of fancy, upscale lounge. "This was the best establishment that I could find."
Nex pursed his lips. A lot of things stood out from her statement.
Should he point them out or pry?
No.
A diversion would be better.
"Same here," Nex said. "Want a drink?"
Weiss glanced at his half-empty mug of iced tea. "If it's not too inconvenient."
The teen manning the counter seemed to be one of Mekel's greenest goons. He was fumbling with a wet mug, trying his best to wipe it with one hand. But other than that, the teen looked way more relaxed than he probably ever did on his rush-hour shift.
Nex placed an elbow on the counter. "The name's Nex. Mekel's told you about me?"
The teen nodded. "Yes, sir. What do you need?"
Sir? Holy shit. This one was a keeper.
"Iced tea," Nex said, smiling in good humour. "Put it in a pint. Four scoops of red, three scoops of white on the rocks. Stir for seven seconds before you place the cut ice. Make it as smooth and light as possible. I want two of the stuff—and don't put a drop of alcohol or anything funny in them. We shouldn't be serving minors. But well, we do what we gotta do in these troubled times."
He half-doubted the teen would perform a snappy salute. But he was sorely disappointed when his fellow bartender mixed the drinks instead. He carried the two mugs back to his table, placing one mug in front of Weiss with a small flourish. She smiled at the gesture and thanked him for the drink.
"So..." Nex said, his brain shutting down. What the hell was he supposed to talk about? Screw it. "Why here?"
Weiss arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Nex shrugged, heat creeping up his neck, but he recovered admirably. "I mean, you should be home by now. School was cancelled more than an hour ago."
And he must have looked like a fool. But he was already being foolish. Whatever happened to the oceanic gap of class, intelligence, and practically everything between them?
"That's..." Weiss trailed off, frowning. "Complicated and personal. Can we talk about something else?"
Apparently, her home was a massive sore spot. His semblance gnawed at the back of his skull—a warning about every little thing that could go wrong. Thus, the best play was to place the ball in her court.
"Yeah, sure," Nex said. "What do you want to talk about?"
Weiss nodded, raising her chin as she squared her shoulders. "Let's start with the basics. Where do you live?"
Nex smiled. That seemed safe enough. "Upper residential district. You?"
Weiss tapped the edge of the glass. "I live in the same place as you, apparently. Do you have any hobbies?"
Hobbies. The only thing that came to mind was his skill as a musician, but it was doubtful he could even compare to her. There was also his skill as a hacker and a technician, but that was more of a job than a hobby. He also had to keep that one a secret—thief code and all. And then, there was his skill as a fighter. But that was the furthest thing from a hobby ever since the word was conceived.
"I play the guitar," Nex said, listening to her steady heartbeat. Dub dub dub. "I also sing a little. But I don't think I'm very good."
Dust. When did he last play the guitar?
Probably the last time he performed in a tavern somewhere, wandering the lawless frontier and honing his sword against bandits and monsters.
Weiss quirked an eyebrow. "You play? What genres do you like?"
"Alternative," Nex said. "Sometimes rock or classical."
Weiss nodded. "I don't listen to the first two, but I do enjoy a bit of classical. Would you recommend them?"
Nex shrugged. Hardly surprising. "I would. But it's honestly your choice what type of music you like. Don't let my tastes influence yours."
Weiss hummed, flashing him a smile. "I should listen to you play sometime."
Nex matched her smile, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not any good, I assure you."
"I don't believe you," Weiss said, her heart beating faster. Dub dub dub dub. "A lot of professionals say that the ability to grasp music is dependent on one's hearing. And you happen to have an extra pair of ears."
They did?
Nex touched his wolf ears, the soft fur stiffening at his touch. Tingles raced through his skin, like spiders made of electricity. He had to put his hand down.
Weiss flushed, staring into the abysmal depths of her drink. "I'm sorry. That was tactless of me. I shouldn't have phrased it like that."
Nex waved a hand. "Nope, it's fine. You can be as tactless as you like. It's only an extra pair of ears. They don't define me or anything."
But they branded him in the eyes of the public. Oh well, oh well. They had their uses beyond being a status symbol.
"Do you really think that?" Weiss said, her eyes peering into his. "Do you really believe that people can be more than what they are?"
Nex frowned at the strange question. But he definitely got the gist of it. "Well, yeah. Faunus, human, student, huntress... Ultimately, they're just labels and arbitrary categories. What's important is who you really are and what you're striving for."
And he would certainly know all about the first part. Qrow's words supplied the second. But still, he did not know what his purpose was. Not yet. It was naive to hope he would figure it out after only a few hours of thinking. It was not something his semblance could puzzle out for him. No, it was something he had to learn for himself. Maybe it would turn into his next obsession. Mekel would be over the moon about it.
"Forgive me if I don't believe you," Weiss whispered. "But once again, you've given me something to think about."
Of course. There was certainly nothing to expect from her, much less believe. But still, there was that second part of what she said.
Nex quirked an eyebrow. "I've given you things to think about?"
Weiss nodded, her lips curling into a mysterious smile. "Definitely."
And she said nothing more.