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With contact finally made with General Ironwood, the gang had finally been able to make it to their temporary lodgings; a local inn. Granted, there wasn’t enough rooms to let out to each individual so they were required to share rooms. Ruby had instantly announced that she was bunking with Weiss. Although, the younger girl had been unable to resist playfully informing Blake that she felt guilty for forcing her sleep in the same room as the team’s tractor. Blake, as was common for the cat faunus, humoured Ruby and went along with it;(giving her partner that little half smirk that Yang was beginning to think was solely meant for her) informing Ruby that it was a sacrifice that she was willing to make for the sake of the team in a rather deadpan manner.
Meanwhile, the rest of the group made their arrangements easily enough and soon enough, the black and yellow pair found themselves in their room. Upon entering, Yang immediately collapsed onto one of the beds, groaning slightly as her body bounced against the thin mattress. Not too long after, she heard the springs of the other bed squeak. Rolling over to look at her partner revealed a completely drained looking Blake, her faunus ears rotating anxiously. It didn’t take Yang long to understand why.
Blake held the remains of Gambol Shroud in her lap, her hands running along the blade. Yang watched, feeling her heartstrings tug painfully for the woman sitting across from her. Their weapons were, as Ruby liked to remind her, extensions of their souls. There were theories that you could see who a person was based on their weapon and how they used it, much like their semblances. A broken weapon, however, usually left the wielder feeling hollow, like a piece of them had been torn away. Yang understood that feeling all too well; the pain in Blake’s eyes was all too familiar. There was no way in hell that she was going to let her partner go through this alone.
“Hey, you doing okay, Blake?” She asked softly, moving to sit up so that she could meet Blake’s eyes better. Blake didn’t say anything for a moment. She saw the way Blake’s jaw worked, muscles clenching. The way her ears almost blended into her hair. Blake was fighting an internal battle. Yang could only hope that she was ready to accept an ally.
“I will be. Right now, I just want to focus on getting my weapon fixed. I can’t think about..” When Blake finally spoke, it was thick with emotion, breaking off before she could finish her train of thought. Yang stood up and slowly approached Blake. She gently sat on the shorter woman’s right, wrapping her arm around her and slowly drew her in. Blake immediately melted into Yang, a quiet apology whispered against Yang’s collar as she rested her forehead in the crook of Yang’s neck.
“Don’t be. You’ve been through hell and back. If you’re not ready to talk, that’s okay.”
Several moments passed as the two women took comfort within each other’s presence, content to stay as they were. Yang, however, knew that Blake was anxious to get her weapon sorted out.
“Do you want some help with Gambol Shroud? Ruby’s a huge geek when it comes to these things so…” She started to ask, only to be interrupted.
“Actually, I was kind of hoping that you might help me?”
“Of course.” Yang cooed softly into Blake’s hair after a moment.“What did you have in mind?”
It was an honour to help somebody with their weapon and as such required a certain level of trust that must not be taken for granted or abused. Something that Yang would never do to the incredible woman sitting beside her.
Yang didn’t know why it threw her for a loop. She really shouldn’t have been surprised; ever since Blake had come back, the girl had been more affectionate and open with her friends. Perhaps it was only natural that she trusted her partner with her weapon.
“Kintsugi.” Yang blinked at the simple reply.
“Come again?” She asked, somewhat confused. She felt, more than heard, the sigh that left Blake as she sat up and wiped her eyes to look at Yang.
“Sometimes I forget that there’s such a difference between our cultures.” Blake mused as she rolled her eyes slightly. Yang tilted head down at Blake.
“So, it’s a faunus culture thing?” Yang asked, genuinely interested. She had always loved listening to Blake talk about her culture; her eyes would light up when talking, almost seeming to sharpen from warm amber to molten gold. She always spoke with so much passion; it was something that Yang had always found immensely attractive.
“Yes. It’s, well, it’s the tradition of repairing broken items with gold. Usually pottery, but we tend to use it for broken weapons as well. It’s actually a really important part of our culture.” Biting her lip thoughtfully, shifting so that she could lay Gambol Shroud out on the bed between them. “I was actually thinking of using gold to repair my blade. Maybe extend it a little. What do you think?”
Yang knew that there was a very different reason for the choice, but she couldn’t help the way her cheeks suddenly felt a little bit too warm at the thought of Blake having gold on her weapon. She shook herself out of it and placed her hand on Blake’s.
“If it’s important to you, I say go for it.” She replied, smiling softly. Blake cocked her head slightly, a small, almost bashful smile crossing her features.
“It’s very important, Yang. We believe that when something is broken, it’s beauty is not diminished. If anything, it adds to it.” Blake adjusted their hands, idly fiddling with Yang’s fingers. She almost seemed nervous. Yang’s brows furrowed, but she opted to remain silent.
“For some of us, it can be difficult at first. But if you give your gold the opportunity to fill the cracks, you’ll realise that those cracks show how special something is. The journey that’s been traveled.” Yang gazed at her partner with a renewed sense of awe. There was something in her words that made her suspect that she wasn’t talking about Gambol Shroud anymore.
“I think it’s kind of like you and me, you know. You helped fill the cracks that he made. Helped me see that I’m no less worthy because of the scars he left. You helped reforge a broken, scared girl into the person that you saw that night in Mountain Glenn. You’re my gold, Yang, my kintsugi.” Blake’s voice was filled with conviction, as though she held no doubt in her words.
Yang’s jaw had dropped. She knew that Blake cared for her. However, the degree of which she cared had stunned her into silence. What could she even say to that? How could she possibly begin to explain how much Blake’s words meant to her? She looked away for a moment and tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. But perhaps words were necessary; she did believe in actions speaking louder than words, after all.
Yang attempted to blink back the tears that threatened to fall before moving Blake’s weapon aside.
“C’mere, you.” Yang croaked out before pulling Blake into a tight hug, nuzzling into her neck in a desperate attempt to hide the tears that fell. Deceptively strong arms immediately wrapped around her, while a gentle hand ran soothingly through her hair. Yang, for the first time in years, allowed herself to receive the comfort that she had so freely given and so seldom been returned. There was no longer doubt in Yang’s mind about whether or not her feelings mattered to Blake; together they were here and together they would heal.
There was no doubt that they still had a lot to talk about. Both women knew that. But for the moment, they were content simply knowing that something was forming between them. Or perhaps it was something else entirely; something that existed long before their eyes met across the body of an Ursa, just waiting for them to find the missing fragment of their broken souls. The one that would become their kintsugi.