Friday, the 26th of June, 79AGW.

Afternoon, Training Room B, Beacon.

It took a little while for Jaune to get his head back on straight, but after he’d managed to wrestle control back over his emotions, Lima felt comfortable enough to move on to the actual reason they’d met up for.

“Lesson time,” Lima said, shaking out his arms. “There are two things about this situation that are going to make it workable.”

“Workable against someone like Pyrrha Nikos?” Jaune said, hesitant.

“Three for someone like her,” Lima said, wagging a finger at the pessimism. “Number one is surprise; subverting her expectations, using them against her—she’s fought you dozens of times, correct?”

“More than that,” Jaune admitted. “But yes.”

“Then, in her head, she’s seen pretty much everything you can bring to bear already,” Lima said, sending a sudden jab forwards. “Think fast.”

Jaune yelped but managed to get his guard up in time, deflecting the punch off to the side.

“That’s why under no circumstances are you to use this what we practice here in front of her until we’re ready,” Lima said, sending a second jab out. “Not in a spar, and absolutely not in front of anyone during Goodwitch’s class, okay? Consider all of our classmates as potential spies—and you know what we do to those.”

Jaune dealt with the onslaught of jabs pretty well; he was leagues better than the first time he’d been matched against him in class.

“I really don’t,” Jaune managed. “But I get the message—keep it under wraps.”

“Exactly—you’re only allowed to bring it out at the perfect moment,” Lima said, stepping sideways suddenly and attacking from his flank. “If she sees it, she’ll do what everyone does and start working out a counter.”

Lima let him go, and Jaune stumbled to a stop, hands still up.

“So it will only work once?” Jaune said, peeking out from behind his guard.

“It’s a tool in your belt that you’ll be able to pull out in any unarmed fight you have in the future,” Lima corrected, “It will probably only work on Pyrrha Nikos once—but the goal here is to shake things up, show her that you aren’t a waste of time.”

“Right,” Jaune said, nodding.

“The second reason it will work is that you’re going to practice it relentlessly,” Lima said. “You need to keep working at it to the point where it becomes second nature, and you can use it without any kind of build-up or telegraph.”

“Practice makes perfect, got it,” Jaune said, lowing his hands again. “What was the third reason?”

“Stagnation—you’ve fought the same person dozens of times, and that’s a massive advantage for both of you,” Lima said, studying him. “People get comfortable fighting the same opponent; you get to the point where you can read the flow of combat with a frequent partner almost instinctively—it allows for amazing teamwork, but it can also drop you into a hole where you simply stop evolving.”

Lima knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was true because it had happened to him. Despite all of the flaws that Sage had—and there were many of them, he was about as good of a combat instructor as you could find. Decades of experience in fighting human opponents and Grimm, trained in dozens of weapons, and with a mastery of melee combat that placed him squarely in the upper echelon of Huntsman.

Where Jaune had fought Pyrrha a dozen or so times, the number of times Lima had stood across from Sage was in the thousands. For years of his life, everything Lima had learned about combat had been shaped through trial and error against a physically unstoppable opponent.

Every counter, reaction, strategy, and deception had revolved around dealing with him. For all of his hard-earned skills and, once upon a time, arrogance—there had been holes in his own training, places where he hadn’t grown equally. The very first time that Sage had brought a trained Huntsman home to help ‘round out the edges’, Lima had been unequivocally destroyed.

Because, as it turned out, almost nobody fought like Sage did—for all of the surface-level similarities between Aura’s defensive properties and the man’s personal Semblance, it simply didn’t translate into the same type of mindset. Sage didn’t deceive, make feints, or lay elaborate plans. Sage didn’t need to dodge hits; he walked through them. He didn’t need to avoid glancing hits to conserve his precious supply of Aura like everyone else. The man just came at you, head-on, and you had to learn how to deal with it, or you’d find yourself buried under the weight of his strength.

A thousand fights against Sage had taught Lima agility but not how to deal with an opponent who also used it. It had taught Lima how to mislead an opponent, to counter strength and directness with illusion and subversion of expectation, but not how to fight against someone who concealed their attacks with feints and deception. Lima had become overspecialised, and flaws had revealed themselves with each new opponent Sage brought home, accelerating the tempering of his flaws through a litany of ass-kickings from a variety of trained Huntsman.

He simply couldn’t let himself forget the lessons he’d learned, and he was forever concerned about falling into that same hole again—but even something as abstract as that could be weaponised in the end.

“Everyone is susceptible to it, Jaune, even The Invincible Girl,” Lima said, speaking from experience, “And given that Pyrrha hasn’t come close to losing a single fight against you so far, she has already been primed for a misstep.”

“How do I use that to win?” Jaune said, brow furrowed.

“That’s one of the questions we’re going to answer,” Lima nodded, clapping his hands together. “What’s the most common end to your spars with her?”

“Uh,” Jaune managed, scratching at his cheek. “She usually knocks my sword out of my hand, and then I end up hiding behind my shield while she wails on me.”

Embarrassing—maybe Pyrrha had a little more of a mean streak inside of her than he’d first thought.

“Does she ramp up the pace over the course of the fight?” Lima asked.

“Yeah,” Jaune nodded. “We usually start slow, and then she kind of ends up overwhelming me at the end.”

“What about the non-weapon spars,” Lima pressed, “You said you tried to fight her without weapons?”

“Twice—I think I did better in those, but it’s kind of hard to tell,” Jaune admitted, “Both times, she kicked me in the leg before knocking me down with a punch.”

“Disrupting footing is effective, especially if the opponent is bigger than you,” Lima nodded, “You’re a pretty big guy, so it makes sense.”

“It doesn’t do much when I can’t even hit her,” Jaune sighed.

“I imagine she leads the spars,” Lima said, then spoke again when Jaune hesitated. “She’s the aggressor, attacking while you defend?”

“Yeah,” Jaune admitted.

Lima considered the information; Pyrrha was good, and she knew that she was good—but there were several things she probably took for granted. Jaune was slower than her, and he tended to remain on the defensive. Pyrrha had plenty of room to act, to pick away at him, and from what Lima had seen, Jaune still telegraphed almost everything he did—big wind-ups when he did attack, shifting his stance, raising his shield up before he charged.

The best way to capitalise on that was to play into those defensive expectations, have her commit to an attack and then punish her before she could realise something was different. That meant an unexpected and fast counter-attack at a moment where she wouldn’t expect it.

“Alright,” Lima said, smiling. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

#

Saturday, the 4th of July, 79AGW.

Cafeteria, Beacon.

“What?” Lima said, aghast, “Are you really going to steal my last free Saturday?”

“There’s still one more weekend before we break up for the holidays,” Claire said, clamping her hand down on his shoulders from behind. “You big dummy.”

“But—” Lima flailed, unable to argue the point. “Why does it have to be today?”

What Lima couldn’t say was that he was also sacrificing his next Saturday to witness Jaune’s attempted coup—he just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“We should be spending the weekend together as a team,” Claire insisted, arms slipping down his shoulders in a sudden attempt at a headlock. “What if Ozpin says you can’t come back to Beacon because you’re such a gigantic jackass, and this is the last time you get to see us?”

Lima managed to get his forearm in between her arm and his neck before she could cinch it closed.

“What the heck?” Lima said, alarmed. “Are you trying to convince me or kill me?”

Teak quickly stepped in front of him, catching hold of his right arm with both of his own before he could break the hold.

“Please?” Teak said hopefully.

Lima tucked his chin down in an attempt to block Claire’s arm, but she got under it—she tightened her hold enough to show that she’d gotten him, but not enough to stop him from talking.

“Gah,” Lima managed, unable to fend them both off.

“You’re so noisy,” Lux huffed, looking up from the journal. “Can’t you die quietly? I’m trying to read.”

“If that is supposed to be winning me over,” Lima grunted, reaching up with his free arm in an attempt to catch hold of Claire’s hair. “It’s having the opposite effect, brighteyes.”

Lux leant forward over the table and snagged his wrist, leaving him completely helpless.

“We could just take turns beating him up now instead?” Lux offered, raising an eyebrow. “Call it Sandbag Saturday.”

Lima attempted to kick her under the table, but the divider reduced the force enough that he was left flailing his leg against her thigh.

“No,” Claire said, planting her chin on the top of his head. “Come on, Lima—I’ll even sneak into the Emerald Forest with you tonight?”

Lima considered the offer—waiting a few extra hours wasn’t too bad, but he wouldn’t get to poke Professor Port into telling him about all the rare Grimm he’d killed in his youth.

“Fine,” Lima said, scrunching up his face. “But you’re buying my lunch.”

“Yay,” Claire cheered, turning the headlock into a hug. “I know this amazing place down by the Museum of Recovered Art—it’ll be great.”

Lux huffed, letting go of his wrist and opening the journal once more.

“When are we leaving?” Teak said, fiddling with his scroll.

“An hour and a half?” Claire offered, glancing between them.

“I guess—gives Lux some time to finish reading,” Lima said, wondering when Claire would finally free him from her grasp. “You know how cranky she gets when we interrupt her.”

“I do not get cranky,” Lux insisted, peeking over the top of the book. “I’m above such unspeakable turmoil.”

Lima blinked.

“Is that where you’re up to?’ Teak said, perking up.

“I finished that chapter last night,” Lux admitted, smiling. “I think it’s my favourite part.”

“Duality,” Teak said, nodding quickly. “It seems to be one of the ongoing themes—”

“Oh, come on—not this again,” Lima complained, slumping back against his captor. “You can’t keep dropping cryptic hints like this.”

The two Faunus shared a glance before Teak smiled—Lux rolled her eyes before flipping back several pages in the journal and clearing her throat.

“Two brothers, light and dark, the fountain and the pool, immortality and something far more twisted.” Lux said carefully, “Purpose drowns me, an unspeakable turmoil born of duty and desire, of decisions made in haste, and an eternity spare for regret.”

“I see what you meant about duality,” Claire said, leaning forward.

Lima had to move his head to the side to avoid being pushed forward into the table.

“You said the other one was about the Fountain of Life,” Lima said, tilting his head. “It ended when he couldn’t find it, right? Is this one picking up right afterwards?”

“There’s an indeterminate period of time between the two journals, but it’s pretty much a continuation that follows his investigation into the Pools of Grimm, but it—” Teak hesitated at the sharp look Lux sent him. “Doesn’t go exactly as planned.”

Lux watched him for a moment longer, no doubt making sure he wasn’t about to spoil it for her.

“Seems to be a running theme for Ozymandias,” Claire wondered. “Never quite finding what he’s looking for.”

“The guy seems to spend a lot of time chasing after bodies of water,” Lima said, shaking his head sadly, “My man just wants to go swimming.”

“Oh my god,” Lux said, visibly offended by his analysis. “This is why we didn’t tell you anything.”

“Journal number three actually chronicles his legal battle over the town’s water source,” Claire snickered, joining in. “Right at the end, he accidentally drops the deed down the well—narrowly avoiding succeeding in his task.”

Lima laughed out loud.

“Please, no,” Teak managed, wincing. “Lux, do you think Ozpin will let us transfer to a different team this late in the year?”

“I don’t know,” Lux said seriously. “But we have to try.”

#

Saturday, the 18th of July, 79AGW.

Malachite’s Dorm, Beacon.

Lima sat up in bed, the early morning silence disturbed only by the quiet sounds of his teammate’s breathing. There was an odd sense of sadness in his chest, or perhaps a daunting realisation that today would be the last real day he’d get to see the three of them before the holidays played themselves out.

Lima watched as Claire lifted her arm up to her face in an attempt to defeat the thin beam of light that was piercing through the window and the sleepy murmur of words that she probably wouldn’t recall once she woke.

It was funny how attached he’d grown to the three of them in such a relatively short time, and even knowing that it would only be a few short weeks did nothing to alleviate the feeling. It was a reflection of his feelings towards Sage and how he hadn’t quite realised how much he would miss the man until he’d fled the continent or how moving from Mistral to Argus had left him unable to see Midori whenever he wanted.

It was something he hadn’t considered before running away in his hair-brained scheme to avoid Sage’s nonsense—eventually, he’d come to a point where he’d be stuck between his responsibility to his team and his love for his family. Hunters didn’t always stay together in teams for life, but it was more common than not, and that meant preparing himself for a compromise—Teak and Claire were citizens of Vale, Lux was from Vacuo, and he was from Mistral.

No matter where they decided to take the bulk of their missions from, someone would be cut off from their family to some degree, and constantly roaming across the entire world just wasn’t convenient for the long term. Eventually, they’d have to make that decision, and each of them would be asked to make a sacrifice.

It was like a sheet of expectation, pulled across his heart and stretching in far too many directions; he wondered how long it would be until it tore. Still, Lima had always been good at putting things off to deal with later, and this would be no different—he’d make that decision when the others came to realise it.

Lima slipped out of bed and then took hold of his pillow before tossing it across the room—it thudded directly onto Lux’s face.

“So you’ve chosen death,” Lux said, sleepy voice muffled by the pillow.

“We’re supposed to be at the damned Amphitheatre in an hour!” Lima demanded. “Just how long are you going to sleep for?”

Lux sat up, ripping the pillow off her face and locked eyes with him.

“This early—wait, you’re actually coming to the duels?” Lux said, eyes wide. “I thought you were going to kill Grimm with Port?”

“It’s our last day at Beacon, your damn right I’m going to the duels,” Lima said, rolling his shoulder. “There’s a special event lined up for today that’s going to blow everyone’s socks off—now get your ass up, or I’ll leave you behind.”

Lux scrambled up out of bed and tossed Lima’s pillow across the room, striking Claire in turn, who moaned out a complaint at the feathery attack.

“What special event?” Lux said, stumbling as her bedsheet caught on her foot. “I haven’t heard anything.”

Lima crossed his arms, refusing to answer.

“He’s just making it up to torture us,” Claire mumbled, sitting up. “It’s revenge for last weekend.”

“Not a chance,” Lima denied, pinching Teak’s toe through the bottom of the Faunus’s bedsheet. “We’ve been working on this for weeks now.”

“Ow,” Teak squeaked. “Unhand me, you brute.”

Teak kicked his leg until he broke free and then puffed his cheeks up at the rude awakening.

“Who’s we?” Lux demanded, pausing at the door of the showers.

Lima just grinned.