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“Why don’t we take a break here?”
Yang leaned against a tree, relishing the shade it provided as Pyrrha stood beside her with her hands laced behind her head. They both breathed heavily. “Are you sure your shoulder doesn’t hurt?” Yang asked again, studying Pyrrha’s face for any signs of repressed pain.
“It’s okay, Yang,” Pyrrha smiled, shaking her head, “It’s not painful, it’s just tight. I haven’t gone running since I was cleared for training by the doctor.”
Yang absentmindedly glanced down at Pyrrha’s chest, right by her collarbone, where a puffy scar was still inflamed and red. “Just let me know if we should stop, okay? We can always walk back.”
Pyrrha shook her head more firmly, her breathing beginning to slow into more normal, steady breaths. “I just have to work my stamina back up again!” She said confidently. She reached back and touched the hilt of her spear, which rested snugly across her back with her shield. She had insisted on wearing it to get used to the weight on her back again as she ran.
Yang nodded, putting her hands on her hips before yelping, yanking her right arm away from the exposed skin at her hips. It became slightly red. “Damn it.” She scoffed, rubbing the spot with her left hand. “I keep forgetting how hot this thing gets when it’s in the sun for a long time.”
Pyrrha eyed the prosthetic thoughtfully. “Maybe you should get some sort of glove for it? It’ll keep the direct light off of the metal, at the very least.”
“Yeah, well, there’s also nothing like summer in Patch.” Yang grumbled, touching her prosthetic gingerly to see if it was starting to cool down. She took her water flask from its strap at her side and uncapped it, dribbling some water over the metal to cool it off more quickly. “It may not feel scorching hot, but the sun is relentless.”
“It’s beautiful here, Yang.” Pyrrha looked away from her, smiling softly. “Thanks for letting me visit.”
“Hey,” Yang’s expression softened, assuring her, “you’re always welcome here. I know the amount of attention you were getting back in Argus was overwhelming--”
“That’s putting it lightly.” Pyrrha chuckled sadly.
“--so you’re always welcome to stay here.” Yang elbowed her playfully. “Here, you’re our friend, not a celebrity.”
Pyrrha blushed and looked away. “I really appreciate it, Yang.”
“Of course!” Yang clucked her tongue, redoing her ponytail. The sides had begun to fall out and stick to the sweat on her face, and she was growing tired of tucking them behind her ears. “You’re an amazing badass, but I’m far beyond being star-struck at this point. I’m not going to ask my friend for an autograph. Although…” Yang made a show of stroking an imaginary goatee, deep in thought. “I kinda want to get a picture of you holding a Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes box, one with your face on it. We’ll take a selfie. It’ll be good proof in case my relatives don’t believe--”
It was Pyrrha’s turn to dig her elbow into Yang’s side, using her other hand to hide her flushing face as she failed to contain her smile. A goofy grin spread across Yang’s face as she reached over to try and pull Pyrrha’s hand away, but Pyrrha batted at her arm, looking away stubbornly. “You are the WORST!” Pyrrha giggled, fighting to keep her face covered as it grew more and more red. “Don’t make me--”
“Are you hiding a smile?” Yang interrupted her, teasing. “Oh, my! Is that a blush I see? Pyrrha Nikos, the Argus champion, BLUSHING? I have to call the paparazzi! It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event!”
Pyrrha tried to stifle another round of giggles and failed, so she used her last resort, reaching over Yang’s arms and flicking her right between the eyes. The blonde stopped, blinking, stunned enough for Pyrrha to step out of reach. Yang shook her head slightly to regain her bearings and immediately resumed her performance, gasping indignantly. “How DARE you?” Yang stretched her hand out longingly for Pyrrha, who was holding her fists to her chests like a giddy school girl, her face scrunched up with repressed laughter. “I am but your biggest fan!”
“D-don’t come closer!” Pyrrha held up her hand in warning, managing to speak through her giggles. “Or I’ll call the salon!”
Yang stopped in her tracks, making a show of widening her eyes before asking in a dramatically wobbly voice, “Excuse me?”
“I’ll call a hairdresser right now!” Pyrrha said more clearly, “And tell them you want a…a bowl cut!” She could barely finish the threat, already starting to laugh again as Yang pretended to pass out, falling back against the tree with her hand over her forehead. Her arm blocked most of her face, but Pyrrha could still see how Yang’s mouth was curled up at the sides.
“I can still see you smiling.” She teased.
“I’m not talking to you anymore.” Yang turned away, pouting. “You threatened me!”
“You’re still smiling.”
“Well, so are you!”
They both fell into a fit of giggles, taking time to slow down and catch their breath. Eventually they sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the birds and the wind rustling the leaves. “So, how far does this path go?” Pyrrha finally asked.
Yang had both arms folded across her knees. “To the cliff and back around to the house.” She replied, sighing as she stood back up, holding her hand out for Pyrrha, who took it, standing. “We’re almost to the cliff, actually. Ready?”
“Sure.”
They began jogging again, a bit lighter than they used to, but that was okay. They were getting better.
Slowly, day by day, they were getting better. Together.
“I see the cliff!” Pyrrha pointed ahead of them, and Yang couldn’t contain her own grin at the beaming look on Pyrrha’s face. “It’s so beautiful!”
“It is.” Yang agreed. “Actually, if you don’t mind going off the trail a little bit, I can show y--”
She was cut off by a roar, and both girls instinctively rolled out of the way, narrowly missing the swiping paw of a giant Ursa. They were out of the wooded area and at the cliff, and the Ursa knocked down trees as it followed them. “Shit.” Yang cursed, activating her gauntlets. Pyrrha took out her javelin, turning the blade into a rifle and shooting at the Grimm over the top of her shield.
“Don’t push yourself too hard!” Yang called as she jumped into action, feeling more sluggish than before. Months of retreating inside her home had dulled her fighting reflexes. The Ursa took another swipe at her that should have been easy to dodge, but Yang had to resort to catching the paw with her arm, stopping it in its tracks. Her feet dug into the dirt and she grimaced, a growl digging its way up through her throat as she flung the limb off of her and shot the Ursa straight in the face. It stumbled back.
“Practice what you preach, please.” Pyrrha huffed as she passed by Yang, following the Ursa quickly. She wielded her javelin in her non-dominant hand, feeling out of practice and less nimble. Pyrrha wasn’t worried, though. It would take a lifetime of bedrest to drain the fighting instincts out of her. Pyrrha lunged at the creature, forcing it to fall even further back. The two girls kept following it, making their way along the cliffside.
“You’ll aggravate your wound if you go too hard! I got this!” Yang called, firing her gauntlets and propelling herself into the Ursa, using the momentum to punch it straight in the face. It roared, stumbling, and Pyrrha ducked under its flailing limbs, slashing at the back of its legs.
“I’m fine, Yang!” Pyrrha responded with a twinge of frustration. “You’re still recovering, too! Don’t overdo it with your new arm!” Pyrrha knew her shoulder was still recovering from the arrow wound, but she also knew Yang’s shoulder and upper arm were still drastically weakened from losing the rest of her arm--one wrong move for either of them could aggravate their newly-healed wounds, pulling or even tearing a muscle. So, she held her javelin in her other hand, diving out of the way as the Ursa fell on its back and slashing across its body, narrowly dodging its swiping paw. The Grimm got up more quickly than Pyrrha expected, and she was forced to run along the cliffside, almost tripping over a slab of stone on the ground as she peered over her shoulder at the charging Ursa.
The beast raised its paw, bringing it down toward Pyrrha. She narrowly dodged, but before the claws could dig into the slab of stone Yang appeared in front, blazing.
Yang had been watching as if in slow motion. She was getting ready to distract the Ursa when her eyes picked up where its paw was headed, what it was about to plough into. The sickeningly sharp claws were seconds away from tearing through that stone, at the very least scarring it—if not breaking it completely.
Yang didn’t think. Eyes bright, she planted her feet into the ground and fired her gauntlets behind her, hurtling between the stone and the Grimm. She twisted in midair, turning to shoot the Grimm’s incoming paw away, but she wasn’t used to the exhaustion in her right shoulder. The recoil from her prosthetic caused her to miss.
She didn’t even get to land. The claws hit her in midair, causing sparks from her hair to fly chaotically, and she skidded back…
…and right off the cliff.
Meanwhile, Pyrrha had ducked underneath the blow, spinning around and stabbing her spear right through the neck of the Ursa. But before the Grimm’s roar had even died in its throat, she heard another scream, and her heart stopped. She whirled around, barely making eye contact with Yang before the blonde tumbled off of the cliffside.
“NO!” Pyrrha screamed, lunging toward the edge and reaching down desperately.
Her fingertips barely brushed Yang’s. “NOOOO!” She screamed, and before she could think, she activated her semblance, jerking forward and barely grabbing the cliffside with her other hand to keep her balance. Yang halted in midair with a yelp.
Afraid to even breathe, Pyrrha stared down at her, wide eyed. Almost the entirety of her torso was hanging over the edge of the cliff. About three meters below her outstretched hand was Yang, dangling in midair by her prosthetic, which faintly glowed.
They looked at each other for a few silent moments as the Ursa disintegrated behind Pyrrha, the ash and smoke gently brushing against her skin as it blew past in the light breeze. Their eyes were wide with terror, both of their outstretched arms glowing black.
“H-hold on, Yang, I’ll pull you up!” Pyrrha finally found her voice, grasping at the edge of the cliffside with her other hand, desperate to find leverage. Her shoulder throbbed. “Just…just hold on!”
Yang didn’t have anything to hold on to. It felt as if her arm had gotten stuck on something, but she saw with her own two eyes that there was nothing but empty air between her and Pyrrha’s outstretched hand. Yang knew reaching up to her wouldn’t make things easier for Pyrrha, but she couldn’t help it, stretching her fingers as far as they could go.
Pyrrha gasped in pain as she began trying to pull Yang up, her shoulder straining. Her wound throbbed, the scabbed skin stretching painfully, and the muscles across her chest and shoulder felt as if they were going to tear apart.
“Pyrrha!” Yang cried desperately as she watched the pain on Pyrrha’s face, frustratingly helpless.
“Just stay still!” Pyrrha’s voice was harsher than usual as she grit her teeth, scooting back on the cliffside so her entire torso wasn’t hanging over the edge. She dug her feet and knees into the ground. “Brace yourself, I’m going to switch!”
Yang thought she must have misheard Pyrrha through the thundering heartbeat in her ears. “What?”
Steeling herself and taking a few deep breaths, Pyrrha let out a hoarse yell as she quickly switched which hand she was holding Yang with. Her other arm shot out, already glowing, and grabbed hold of Yang with her semblance again. Pyrrha had no choice but to clench her jaw and push through the pain, gripping the cliffside with her now throbbing arm so that she didn’t tumble over.
The switch caused Yang to fall a few more feet, and she gasped in pain as another shock went up through her shoulder, her forearm aching mercilessly. She knew her upper arm was still weak from the blood loss and recovery, but she hadn’t realized how much until this moment. In a desperate attempt to relieve some of the weight, she grabbed her prosthetic with her other hand, holding onto it tightly.
“I’m sorry!” Pyrrha called, her voice cracking with strain.
“Don’t apologize,” Yang replied, panting. “Just don’t fall after me!”
“I’m not going to fall after you,” Pyrrha grunted, beginning to pull Yang up again. Yang could barely feel herself creeping upwards. The movement caused her shoulder to scream in protest, but Yang just focused on Pyrrha’s voice. “You aren’t going to fall either.”
It was slow. Painful. Inch by inch, Yang rose higher and higher. She kept her arm outstretched, ready to grasp onto Pyrrha’s waiting hand, which grew ever closer. They grew close enough that Yang could almost feel the shadow of Pyrrha’s fingertips brushing her own, and then finally--
“Thank the gods-” Pyrrha sobbed, gripping Yang’s hand, her semblance still holding strong. “I’m going to pull you up--here, get ready to grab the side--”
With a few more huge heaves, Pyrrha was able to lift Yang high enough for her to grip the cliffside. She grabbed onto it for dear life, and they both gasped for breath as Pyrrha hauled her the rest of the way over the side. They collapsed next to the stone slab, breathing heavily and groaning in pain.
“Thank you,” Yang panted as she held her throbbing shoulder, looking to the side and finding her face much closer to Pyrrha’s than she had realized.
Pyrrha smiled back at her with leftover tears in her eyes. Her own shoulder was exhausted, the wound next to her collarbone feeling tight as if there was an arrow lodged through her flesh again. She tried not to let it show. “Of course, Yang! Always.”
They sat up slowly, still shaking with adrenaline and exertion. Pyrrha winced, pressing a hand to her wound gently.
Yang heard Pyrrha’s hiss of pain and looked over, rotating her own shoulder with a clenched jaw. “Are you okay?” She asked anxiously, scooting closer and pulling Pyrrha’s hand away from her chest. Yang examined the wound carefully. “It didn’t break any skin, and it doesn’t seem to be swelling any more than it did before. You probably pulled some muscles, but I don’t see anything to worry too much about so far.”
“Thank you, Yang.” Pyrrha smiled at her softly, resting her hand on top of Yang’s.
“Don’t thank me, ” Yang shook her head in disbelief. “You just saved my life .”
“I’m sure you would have landed just fine.” Pyrrha waved her off.
Yang scowled. “Well, I’m not sure!” She snapped. “Let me thank you!”
Pyrrha looked up in surprise, eyes wide, and Yang immediately softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just want you to accept my thanks, that’s all. You really did save me.”
Pyrrha looked down at her lap, flushing. “O-okay. You, um…you’re welcome.” She mumbled the end of her sentence, still not meeting Yang’s gaze. This seemed to be good enough for the blonde, though, who scooted over to sit right next to Pyrrha.
They sat there for a few minutes, letting their minds and bodies catch up with the last few minutes. It had felt like hours--days, even.
“Yang,” Pyrrha broke the silence finally. “Why did you do that?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you do that?” Pyrrha bit her lip, new tears welling in her eyes. “You didn’t have to--I mean…I dodged that Ursa. You didn’t…you didn’t have to.”
Yang’s expression melted as she watched Pyrrha wipe her eyes. She put her hand on the other girl’s knee, looking into her eyes pointedly. “If I thought you were in danger, I would absolutely jump in front of that danger for you.” She smiled gently. “But I wasn’t worried about you. That’s not why I did it.”
Pyrrha looked up and met her gaze, eyebrows furrowed. “W-what? Then why…”
Yang stood shakily, holding out her hand for Pyrrha. She took it gratefully, also still shaky, and they walked along the cliffside, keeping a safe distance from the edge.
Yang pointed soundlessly at the stone slab in the ground on the cliffside. They walked around to the front of it. Pyrrha looked at it more closely, focusing on it for the first time.
It wasn’t just a slab of rock. It was a clearly cut, rectangular piece of stone, with a familiar symbol engraved at the top and some words at the bottom:
Summer Rose
Thus Kindly I Scatter
Pyrrha’s breath was caught. “Is…is this…”
“My mom.” Yang nodded, staring down at the tombstone. “Or, her grave, at least. It’s empty. They never found her body.”
Pyrrha stared at the grave for a moment before bowing toward it, surprising Yang. “Oh, you don’t have to--”
“It’s okay, Yang.” Pyrrha straightened back up, turning to smile at Yang. “I just wanted to thank her.”
“For what?”
“For helping you become who you are today.” Pyrrha looked back down at the stone, smiling softly at the rose carved above the name. “Both of you.”
Yang blinked rapidly, wiping her eyes. “Um…yeah. Thanks, Pyrrha.”
Pyrrha nodded, looking at Yang’s flushed face as the blonde avoided her eyes. It was a moment of rare shyness from Yang that Pyrrha cherished because it was just for her. She and Yang hadn’t been incredibly close during the school year, but after the school fell, they became pillars for each other in their recoveries. Pyrrha had evaded death by inches, an arrow narrowly missing her lungs and her heart. For months, Yang had to survive without a limb.
After a teary reunion, Jaune had quietly told her that he needed some space. Pyrrha didn’t blame him. She had confessed to him and pushed him away in one fell swoop, leaving him behind. When he and the rest of her team said goodbye, about to set off with Ruby to Mistral, he promised her that he would get better.
Nothing Pyrrha said would make Jaune feel like less of a failure, and she knew that. She could only hope that he grew on his trip across Anima, both in skill and in confidence. She was left alone, confined to bed rest, craving the ability to train until her muscles ached but left with no options.
But a letter had reached Pyrrha’s mother, an invitation for Pyrrha to continue her recovery in Patch. Initially, Pyrrha declined. She would just be an extra mouth to feed, and she and Yang weren’t that close.
But as she slowly began to walk again, accompanying her mother to the grocery store, occasionally going out in public…Pyrrha felt the weight of a thousand eyes. She was used to the attention she got in public, especially in Argus. She was their champion. But after the fall of Beacon, she gave autographs and while getting sympathetic looks, apologies from random people, and whispers behind her back. They had watched her rip her opponent apart, and though it was an accident, it had been harrowing. It was public information that Pyrrha had nearly died fighting the person behind the attack.
She was hailed as a hero for distracting the vile villain…but she only felt like a failure. Cinder had still gotten the maiden power, she was bedridden for months, and the school was nothing more than rubble. Ozpin was gone.
Worried about her mental health, Pyrrha’s mother bought tickets for an overnight train that took them all the way to Patch.
Pyrrha and Yang hadn’t been particularly close during their school days, but as they ate meals together, did physical therapy, and had polite conversation, the color began to return to their cheeks. They started having deeper conversations, starting to train again at a pace that would have been agonizing if it hadn’t been for each other. Even after the prosthetic from Atlas came, Yang wasn’t ready for it, and Pyrrha didn’t push her. They continued as they had been doing. Yang slowly began to crack her jokes, her trademark cackle echoing through the house. She seemed more and more like her old self, but this time, Pyrrha had the privilege of being right there with her. Yang began using her prosthetic, and Pyrrha began to run again. It was almost impossible to believe that only months before, both of them had been confined to their beds, barely speaking or eating.
Pyrrha may have saved Yang today, but Yang had saved Pyrrha a long time ago.
She brought her hand up to Yang’s face, gently turning it to face her. “Please don’t scare me like that again.” She said, almost scoldingly.
Link to the AMAZING collab art!
Yang chuckled, reaching up and putting her hand over Pyrrha’s. “I’ll do my best.” She closed her eyes, smiling softly as she held Pyrrha’s hand to her cheek. She eventually met Pyrrha’s eyes again, blushing, but refusing to look away. Pyrrha met her eyes steadily, meeting the challenge, her own cheeks reddening.
Yang felt like a flustered mess. She looked at the strong, beautiful, kind, and capable woman in front of her and wondered why it took them almost dying to get to know each other better. Maybe she had been intimidated. Pyrrha was a superstar–a famous fighter, destined to be one of the greatest huntresses of their generation. Pyrrha had almost seemed TOO nice. Yang didn’t know what to give her in return.
But Yang would never forget when she woke up after the fall of Beacon. They were at a makeshift hospital right outside of the city, and Yang was laying underneath a large white tent. Next to her was Ruby, who seemed to be asleep, and Uncle Qrow sat above them watchfully. Weiss, Nora, Ren, and Sun had been there, too, coming in and out of Yang’s blurred vision. Nora paced back and forth next to where Yang was laying, and Ren sat on the ground, head in his hands. Yang later learned that Pyrrha had been in surgery for almost 12 hours, in critical condition as the surgeons worked to remove the arrow. Apparently it had splintered inside of her upon impact, and if they didn’t take out all of the pieces, they risked puncturing her lung or heart at any random time during recovery. Yang had slept through almost the entire thing.
Seeing Pyrrha show up at her house had been quite a shock. She was uncharacteristically miserable. Anytime she tried to plaster a smile across her face it looked painful, and Yang had never seen her look so weak and vulnerable. It made Yang’s heart ache, and she suddenly felt the need to apologize to her father, because is this what she looked like? It was devastating.
But they grew stronger together, and Yang learned a lot of things. She learned that Pyrrha was allergic to oranges, loved crossword puzzles, and got surprisingly heated at game shows when the contestants were being stupid. She learned that Pyrrha was great at baking but was simultaneously a terrible cook. She had high-functioning anxiety and was surprisingly bad at math. The unbearably sweet warrior that had intimidated Yang in school turned out to be very blunt. She was gentle, but told Yang the truth, even when it wasn’t what Yang wanted to hear. She was slow to open up, but once she did, their conversations were meaningful, and they often flipped between a serious discussion and giggling hysterically on a dime.
Yang nuzzled into Pyrrha’s hand, staring into her eyes. Pyrrha’s gaze held so much emotion and affection, the corners of her eyes crinkled with a small smile. Yang wanted to hold on and never let go.
She rested her hand on Pyrrha’s face, rubbing her thumb back and forth along her cheek softly. Pyrrha leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. “Pyrrha?” Yang finally asked.
“Yes?” Pyrrha replied, her voice a bit higher than usual.
“Can I kiss you?”
Pyrrha couldn’t help but beam. Both of them were aching, shaking with exhaustion, covered in sweat, and in pain…but to her, it couldn’t have been a more perfect time. “Of course.” She whispered.
They closed the distance, holding each other gently. Their lips met with soft sighs, unpracticed but uncaring because somehow their wounds hurt a little less now, their throbbing muscles were soothed. They had found the best medicine. Pyrrha didn’t mind that when she looped her hand around Yang’s neck, it was covered in sweat. She didn’t care that the hand gently cradling her jaw, caressing her as if she was the most precious thing in the world, was hot. Yang knew that Pyrrha’s face was wet with tears and she didn’t care. She could feel the slight tremble of exhaustion through Pyrrha’s body, and her only thought was to be slow. Yang knew that she was trembling, too.
Yang pulled away, gazing at Pyrrha for a few moments before saying softly, “I’ll always be there to catch you, too. I promise.”
Pyrrha chuckled, brushing Yang’s hair out of her face, and Yang was surprised to find that she didn’t mind. “Of course you will. I already knew that.” She gazed up at Yang, the faintest smile left on her lips as she adopted a playfully serious expression. “Now, kiss me again, please.”
Yang threw her head back with a laugh. “Alright, Miss Nikos,” She agreed, pulling her closer. “I can’t argue with that.”