Disclaimer: I am not rich and thus don't own multimillion-dollar properties.

Author's Notes:

God this chapter took way longer than expected. A large contributor to that had to do with the fact that until about two weeks ago I've been busting my ass at work; a lot of long hours and not a lot of time to really have to myself. That coupled with severe writer's block made putting together this particular chapter a nightmare.

To address some concerns, a lot of people have brought up the fact that the transitions between scenes have been difficult to follow. I just want to let you all know that I've been listening and while this chapter may not have achieved a solution to that problem just yet, I am actively working on a method to make the story flow in a matter that isn't so jarring.

Also, just to inform you all, if I don't upload a chapter beyond this one and suddenly drop off the face of the earth just assume that I had to get involved with something work related for an extended period of time. I'd love to share the details with you all but, being in the military, that information is literally classified so I'll have to apologize if this story unexpectedly goes into hiatus.

Now that those issues have been addressed, on with the story!

XxXxX

Chapter 3: Reading Between the Lines

XxXxX

It had all started with a dream.

"When I was little, I dreamed of becoming a Hero of Justice."

Shirou's eyes snapped open to the view of a familiar scene. A memory, one of the few ones that he relished in seeing whenever he drifted off to sleep.

He could still feel the chill of that spring night; a chorus of crickets drowning out the hustle and bustle of life beyond their walls; the smell of midnight dew among the foliage of their corner of paradise.

"What do you mean "dreamed"?" The younger version of himself developing a complicated expression, one that spoke of more than just confusion. "Did you give up?"

By now, he had already memorized every word said within this moment in time, the tail end of his past self's words stinging each time they repeated off his lips.

"Yes, unfortunately…" Kiritsugu's eyes shadowed behind his bangs. His yukata hanging loosely on his body, wasting away under a lifetime of regret. "Being a hero is a limited time thing. When you grow up, it's difficult to call yourself one…I wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize that…"

A pang of sympathy rang within Shirou's heart.

"I see. I guess you can't really help it now, then." The younger Shirou exclaimed. His voice sounding more as if it were being read off a script.

"Yes…it really can't." Kiritsugu agreed.

"Yes." Shirou repeated with a nod, a resolution straightening his posture. "Since you can't. I'll become one for you."

A noise escaped Kiritsugu as if he had just hung on by the cusps of slumber.

"Since your too old and can't do it anymore. I'll do it in your place". A genuine sense of conviction coming to the younger Shirou's voice for the first time that night. A single, tiny arm reaching past the shattered moon in the sky toward something greater; a promise, an ideal that even a self that had been beaten and battered by the tests of time could not still help but find beautiful.

A desire to become something more.

"Just leave your dream to me." His younger self flashed the same smile that his savior had imparted to him on that fateful day, a gift that he would carry with him for a lifetime. Dim moonlight illuminating his pale locks into a pure, ethereal white; the redness in his hair contrasting sharply. A spark to reinvigorate the ashes of a dream.

The onlooker's eye had taken a quality that matched his foster father's. At the time he had mistaken it for hope.

His current self knew better though.

"All right…" The lines of stress etched across Kiritsugu's face melting away. A solemn acceptance. A tireless resolve finally allowed to rest. "…I feel a bit better now…"

XxXxX

Shirou Emiya awoke to the blaring red of digital text. A familiar ring filling the room just moments later as the clock rolls over to an even "5:00".

He reaches over to silence the racket. A hiss crossed his lip as an acute pain shoots into his torso. The left side of his body burning with a heat akin to a thousand angry fire ants. Shifting under his covers to allow for his remaining limb to complete the action, Shirou mentally willed the tingling sensation to dissipate. Even after all this time the phantom pains would still creep up on him when he least expected it.

Rising from his covers, Shirou rose from his bed to gaze out at Remnant's damaged moon.

He allowed himself to a moment to recollect his thoughts under the ephemeral purple of a fading night. It had been some time since he had recalled his adopted father's face; after going so long without a reminder the finer details had become painfully fuzzy over the years. A reminder that provided as much as a smile to form on his face as it did the dull throbbing to beat in parallel with his heart.

To become a Hero of Justice.

A borrowed dream, one that was never his own yet he still upheld to the highest degree. One that he had seen as an inevitability because had he not believed he would have been able to achieve it himself he would not have dreamt it otherwise.

Would the him of today been so certain in the same scenario?

A part of him would say yes, but given the fact that he had to even ponder such a thing spoke much louder than words.

Slowing his breath, Shirou allowed the emotions bubbling within to drip out of his body like a channel being cut in a stream. They would only be a distraction in the coming moments.

His singular palm rose upward in his lap. A familiar ache crackled to life, slow to start but warming at a steadily increasing speed as the sand within his mind began to flake away.

The first step was hypnosis: to convince yourself that what you sought to achieve was possible.

Steam rode on the exhaling breaths; a product foreign to the Vale's temperate weather.

"Trace, On."

Judging the concept of creation.

Electricity danced between his fingertips.

Hypothesizing the base structure.

As if on the pages of a blueprint, chaos birthed structure.

Duplicating the composition material.

The lines slowly bled together to give image to form. Primarily comprised of an alloy using two parts steel and one part of an unnamed metal birthed from the byproducts of earth and fire dust to allow for a stronger conduit to channel the ignition of one's souls.

Imitating the skills of its making.

It had been scrapped down and rebuild multiple times over with hands that held little place in a forge while using tools that paled in comparison to most modern practices. Despite this, its creator persisted. They were used to failure. What was one more amongst the many that encapsulated their existence.

Sympathizing with the experience of its grow.

After nearly three straight nights struggling to keep the fires of a makeshift forge lit it was finally completed. A sword but also a scythe attributed to the legend of The Grimm Reaper who its creator had admired as a child. Large and unwieldy to most, it was a tool build with the sole intention of carving a vicious path through the fields of humanity's greatest enemy.

Reproducing the accumulated years.

Its initial design had not been perfect. Misfortune in the creation of the gear mechanism that allowed the weapon to shift forms would cause the weapon to often jam midway through transformation. Causing the user to develop a style that relied mostly on the sword form to compensate for the defect despite its intended design.

Excelling every manufacturing process.

It wasn't until years later, and having to deal with countless growing pains, that a solution was discovered under the hands of a girl that the wielder had initially written off as just another useless kid blind to the realities that he had bathed in since his conception.

It was through her machinations that the dreams of a boy who had only known misfortune his whole life had finally been fulfilled as intended…with the added bonus of a shotgun courtesy of his new friend to boot.

On that day, by a girl who the boy would treasure above all others even to this day that the weapon was finally given a name. One that he would cherish despite the connections that could be made with the one aspect he hated about himself the most.

Harbinger: The Approaching Death. The one and only weapon of Qrow Branwen.

With the care of an artist inspecting a painting, Shirou passed a finger upon its smooth surface; taking in the triumphs and hardships that it had carried its wielder through during his time as a Huntsman.

At the press of a button, clockwork spurred the weapon to life as it broke down and reconstructed itself into its inspired form. A scythe, as ominous as the weapon's namesake and nearly just as tall as the tiny room of the inn he was staying at. Just as effortlessly, the weapon folded back in on itself into its sword form.

Applying pressure to the trigger sitting on the handle caused the blade to bend at a joint in the handle. A mechanism reliant on the action, loading the slug of a shotgun within the twin barrels that bordered the blade. Wordlessly, Shirou aimed the weapon in the same manner that he had seen Qrow within his inner world; throwing caution to the wind, Shirou depressed the trigger of the weapon inside the inn.

A resounding "click" being the only reward for his confidence.

He shook his head knowingly while allowing the weapon to dispel. At his core Shirou Emiya was a sword, not a gun-sword. Had the latter been the case he definitely would not have bothered firing it within a building full of innocent bystanders.

Times passed as he continued on with his morning ritual. Without missing a single day, he had refined his craft. Once in the morning and once more just before going to bed. He could be called many things but inconsistent was not one of them.

At times he pondered why he still persisted to train despite having gone back on the promise that had defined his very being. As atonement for his sins? To cling on to one of the few things that his adopted father had left him with? Or maybe just as a form of habit?

He wasn't sure.

A blue glow filled the room once more as another of man's creations was reborn at his command.

He wasn't sure of a lot of things anymore.

XxXxX

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I'm sorry Miss but he just up and left. Took his first pay check and walked right out the door." The owner of the café scrambled to put together a response in fear of angering the woman any further.

"Did he say where he was going? Any clues about where he may go next?" Cinder interrogated, unintentionally trapping the poor woman in the corner like a defenseless animal.

Her attire this time comprising of a simple gray cardigan, white tank top and ripped jeans, a much more casual yet still no less stunning ensemble (she refused to garb herself in anything less). She had worn it with the intention of putting her target at ease; a proverbial foot in the door in preparation for their reintroduction.

It had been a splendid idea. Subliminal messaging had served her well in the past and she was certain it would work once again today.

The only problem was…

"Not a single word. It really is a shame. He was such a diligent man, way better than the rest of these lay-abouts that's for sure." She said while shooting a glare over at a particular waitress who seemed more intent on taking smoke breaks than serving customers.

Apparently, Shirou Emiya had quit.

"None of this makes any sense." Cinder spoke out loud. The person that she had met that day hardly seemed like the type to let mere words affect him.

"You're telling me. Now we have to find a new baker good enough to match the deserts we promised." The owner's face contorted with discomfort. "It's not even like we were reprimanding him that hard anyways. We even made it clear he wasn't in trouble just in case he was the type to bolt at a moment's notice."

The owner moaned at her upcoming predicament but Cinder had long since tuned her out. From an average citizen's perspective, quitting less than two weeks into your job just wasn't something you do. However, from a more…tactical mindset; disappearing is exactly what one should do when they realize that they have been compromised.

"Excuse me Miss where are you going?" The café owner called, unsure of how to respond to the sudden flux of rabid interest and sharp dismissal. In Cinder's eyes, the woman had already devolved into something less than human, an object to be discarded after it had failed to serve its purpose.

What didn't make sense to her was where he had caught on to her. Other than his slip of the tongue, he had played the role of innocent waiter down to the letter. If it wasn't for his performance stopping some of the men on her pay roll, she wouldn't have suspected him as anything more than a spy: one who had the information but had no formal means of defending them. Her apprehension toward tipping off his potential employer being the only thing stayed her hand in silencing him personally after their first formal encounter.

That had all changed when she had tailed him that following night.

The sheer professionalism that he had dismantled those men; had piqued her interest. Ending someone with such a delectably, brutal efficiency for combat seemed like such a waste in her eyes. Plus, until Emerald and Mercury returned from keeping the White Fang in line in her absence she had little to spare when it came to pawns of any value. That being said, it wasn't as if she could just allow such a leak to exist over her seeds. Too much watering would drown them before they had a chance to flower.

At the resonance of heels touching down on the concrete entrance to the café is when it had hit her.

Who said that all her enemies had to be met with death? In fact, now that she thought about it, he would be much more useful to her alive. Information was a two-way street; if handled the wrong way it could harm just as much as it could help. Misinformation felled far more men than the sword ever could.

But why stop at mere falsehoods when she could have a genuine fallacy?

To convert him to her side…one of Ozpin's little toy soldiers…snatched from right under his nose. She could already imagine it; the look on his comrades faces once the truth was finally unveiled. Oh, the chaos that could be reaped from such a betrayal was getting her restless just thinking about it.

A humbling wind swept her back to reality. Her recently muted senses overwhelmed by the noise pollution of a prospering city. It's throngs of sheep looking even more disgusting than they did normally.

None of that would be possible if she couldn't find him. It had already been days since Shirou Emiya's silently proclaimed resignation. For all she knew he could be half way across Sanus by now. She would have to move quickly.

XxXxX

While, Cinder pondered where she would begin her search for information, another individual was already hot on the trail of their own. She came to a stop at a modest sized building deep within Vale's vast commercial district, hidden and unassuming amongst the louder more business-driven giants that dotted the area. Swarms of shoppers flooded adjacent blocks with the expedience of a freeway, shrouding the storefront behind a wall of marching feet and chatter.

Bright, golden irises swiveled in their sockets chaotically; had she not been hand walked to the location in the past she would have haphazard to image a scenario where she would be able to track down the place.

Navigating her way through the flow of traffic, she entered the building; the pleasant ring of a bell marking her entrance. Books: rows and rows of books packing one's vision to the brim and spilling out into the realms of unconscious thought. At the center of this labyrinth, a single well-muscled back faced the entrance, its owner humming an off-key tune as they went about organizing their collection.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade: Home to Every Book Under the Sun." it was in this moment that the owner of the establishment turned to face their newest customer; his gruff features creasing with a sense of familiarity. "Ah Blake! Good to see you!"

"Morning to you too Tukson," Blake returned the greeting.

"How have you been? The uh…", Tukson took a moment to survey the room for any prying ears; paying a careful amount of attention to those with animalistic features, "… "Camping Trip" turn out okay I presume?"

"Mostly, ran into a couple hiccups…no thanks to you." Blake said, applying a thin coat of malice to the end of her sentence; her palm taking to her hip in a stance of accusation.

Rough hands faced upward in surrender. "Hey, you got past it didn't you?"

"Maybe this time, but there were definitely details that you could have gone over instead of leaving me out to dry." She said with frown.

"Ha, I suppose but too much information spoils what's to come. Would ruin the story." Tukson chuckled unapologetically.

"This plot twist I could have could have gone without." Blake grumbled underneath her breath.

"Hey, well at least you learned something. Make any new friends?" He asked, quick to change the subject away from things focusing too much on the past.

"Not exactly, the person I've spoken with the most nearly sent me through a tree the first time we met." Blake mentioned with arms crossed. "She calmed down after a while, still seems a little jumpy whenever I pullout my sword for some reason though."

"Just give it time. Your parent hadn't exactly seen eye to eye when they first met either and look at them now."

Her mouth crinkled as if she had just tasted something awful. "…Gross…"

"The only thing gross here is your mind missy." He boomed with laughter. "So, what can I get you? Another romance novel maybe?"

Blake's eyes lit up, the black bow on her head rustling for just a second. "Ergh…um…Not this time."

"You sure?" Tukson annunciated with a raised brow. Without breaking eye contact, he reached underneath his counter to reveal a small, black, hardback book with red etching and the depiction of a stylized white figure in a thinking pose.

"Ninjas of Love: Strategist?!" She intoned with wonder. "I thought that that wasn't supposed to release for another three months."

"Home to Every Book Under the Sun." He grinned smugly.

Her claws reached for the book with a primal need. It was only through sheer willpower that she reeled in her desires. "No…I came here for something specific."

Seeing her somber shift in tone, Tukson returned the book lest it leads to any further temptation. Blake's eager breathing settling to an even calm the second it was out of sight. "…Alright, what do you need?"

"A book on wolves." Blake said, Tukson's previous welcoming persona veiling behind a mask of professionalism.

"What kind?"

"The White kind." A lilt forming in her speech at the shade.

"I see…" He said knowingly before proceeding to write down the specific location on a sheet of paper. "Back left corner, fifth shelf."

She nodded her thanks, making her way to the designated serial numbers that he had listed. With his instruction she arrived at a wall of books labeled "Environmental Biology"; zeroing in to the selection he had specified, the set of books being the only ones who did not match the established criteria the others on the shelf followed.

To the average customer, the misplaced books would simply be an honest mistake. It wasn't uncommon for an employee to place products where they didn't belong every now and then. Blake, however, knew that was not the case. Tukson, contrary to him image, was a rather meticulous man and would often spend countless hours making sure that every single book was in its intended place; even going so far as to chase down exceptionally thoughtless customers who had made a mess of his store.

He didn't leave his collection unorganized.

Where there should have been three books detailing Remnant's, various creatures were instead the titles: Dreadful Beasts and How Not to Find Them, Edmond B. Sun: The Unsung Hero of Remnant, and Behind the Curtain.

She removed the books from their un-rightful places with a thoughtful expression.

A Huntsman's survival guide on what variants of Grimm are to be expected in a given location; a biography on the man who pioneered the Dust refinement process; and a mystery novel following a detective and a thief who, who…huh she couldn't seem to remember how that one ended. She would have to brush up on that one again.

While her mind went about deciphering Tukson's message her body moved on autopilot, coming to the counter and checking out the mismarked books; her consciousness only returning to her surroundings to reminder herself to also check out a certain katana related book that she had been looking forward to.

She was so deep in thought that she almost bumped into a heterochromatic girl on her way out the door.

"Excuse me," Blake mouthed curtly with a bow.

The girl didn't say a word, green eyes flashing a mischievous stare at the book that was pointed outward from Blake's grip.

Blake gasped before sheathing her newest copy of Ninjas of Love: Strategist between her other selections and away from prying eyes, a blush reaching the top of her hair as she rushed out the door in shame.

XxXxX

Elsewhere, hours later, a pub had just recently opened its doors.

It was the middle of the day, far from peak hours of operation. Despite this, its warm wooden walls buzzed with activity; the establishments respectable assortment of bar themed dishes attracting just enough to fill more than a few seats. The only exception to this rule being a single disheveled man already sporting a healthy flush to his cheeks.

With a bit of effort, the man created a sorry excuse for a window with his fingers, using the view like a scope to enhance the view of various barmaid's skirt lengths. One of the bar patron's in particular: a woman sporting deep, shoulder length black hair and an athletic figure jumped into his view. Her skin tight, ripped jeans accentuated dangerously upon the bar stool as she leaned in to speak to the bartender.

The grey cardigan seemed like an odd choice though. He wasn't one for fashion beyond muted colors but for some reason he felt as though red would have suited her much better.

Didn't stop her from having a nice ass though.

As if the world took offense to his very thought, a familiar katana filled his window. He didn't relinquish his view immediately. Hoping beyond hope that if he pretended like he didn't notice her she would just go away. When the image failed to disappear from his vision, he released a sigh; dismantling his peephole to look back at a shade of red similar to his own filled with a resigned disgust.

"What?" Qrow finally broke the silence.

"Must you always insist on being a failure as a human being…brother." The woman spitting the normally endearing word back at him as if it were a slur.

Qrow merely shrugged a response, working his way through another glass to add to his pile.

"You do realize it's noon, right?" She said, claiming the seat across from him.

"I know." He said while flashing a signal for another drink to a passing bar maid. "It's a little late to start drinking but it should be fine as long as I make up for it."

"I need information." The woman cut straight to the chase.

"Figured as much. You wouldn't approach me in Vale of all places unless you wanted something important."

"I wasn't planning to but you seemed intent on staying home for a change." History dancing upon the words that left her tongue.

"Boss wasn't happy about it but I was able to convince him otherwise." It's not like he would be much use in a far-off land at this point. They already knew Amber's assailant would come back for her. It was just a matter of when.

If that wasn't enough of a reason in itself, a certain one-armed man routing around definitely was. With that man's track record, he was bound to stick his nose somewhere he shouldn't eventually.

"Shirou Emiya, I need information about him?" Once again, the name of the one man that Qrow was hesitant to talk about resurfaced. Just his luck.

Across the pub, the same woman who Qrow had been inspecting perked up at the name. Casting an ear in their direction.

"Weird how after months of hearing nothing about the guy all of a sudden he keeps popping up in conversation." Qrow's expression creasing with displeasure despite still having the taste of his favored whiskey still on his tongue.

"Do you have it or not?" Raven hissed, clearly uncomfortable being exposed in broad daylight.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"You first." She retorted, causing Qrow to clam up on the spot. Outside of their first meeting, he had made sure to stay clear of the man as much as possible. Something that Raven had saw fit to make a jab at what little pride he had. What type of protector would he be if he couldn't face what he sought to protect those he cares about against?

Seeing that Qrow would not speak again unless prompted, Raven continued on. "He was tolerable at first but the effect his actions have had on the clan has been…costly."

"You want revenge." He said, slouching in his seat.

"Ozpin may be fine with dragging his feet through the mud but a Branwen is not."

Qrow clicked his tongue. "Sorry, not buying it."

She shot a questioning look his way while her palm clutched on the handle of her blade.

"All that happened ages ago, if this really was about the clan then you would have made an effort to collect what was owed to you then. Not years later."

"What are you implying?"

"All I'm say is that it seems unlikely that all of this suddenly starts to matter when your brat just had a run in with him and came out with a fear of buttering her own toasts."

"This is a clan matter Qrow. It isn't about her." Raven insists, her gloved hands digging deeply into the wooden table.

"Just because you say so doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Qrow."

"Yeah, yeah what is it that you need?"

"Anything that would be useful in against him."

"That's…vague."

"His base of operations, his abilities, his semblance, his weapon of choice, his motivations, his fears, his-."

"Alright, alright I get it!" Qrow snapped back, a satisfied smirk making its way to Raven's lips. Even as a Ruthless Bandit Overlord and an Alcoholic Huntsman, siblings would still relish in getting under their siblings' skin. "Guy's a bit of a mystery. All I know for sure is that he doesn't like to stay in one place for very long. Tends to not stick to any of the Kingdoms…until recently of course."

"The outer districts." Raven clarified. Qrow made no motions to determine how she knew about that.

"Yeah, showed up in Junior's place not too long ago; like I'd said before, had a run in with Ol' Firecracker. Hit her with something he called Hypnosis."

"His semblance?" Raven questioned.

"Junior thinks so." Qrow however did not seem convinced.

"Hm, he hardly seems like the type."

"Not like yours is exactly a perfect fit either." Qrow mouthed prior to taking a particularly long swig to deflect his sister's glare.

Kindred Link: the semblance of Raven Branwen that allowed her to teleport instantly to those she is emotionally bonded to no matter the distance. In Ozpin's words "A rather kind ability". One that seemed out of character for a woman who had severed all connections to her husband and child in favor of raiding and pillaging helpless villagers.

The comment was not ignored but it was placed off to the side to make way for the main topic of conversation. "I take it that that isn't the only thing that it does."

"You'd be right. I never connected the dots before but Yang's recent behavior falls in line with a bunch of other cases that sprung up where he's stepped foot." Notwithstanding the places that he "saved" of course.

"Do you think it is a side effect of this ability?"

"I thought you didn't care about her?"

"I just like knowing what I'm getting myself into." She quickly denied. Qrow merely snorted at her rationalization.

"Maybe, need to look more into it. I was always under the impression that his semblance was something else to be honest."

"And that being." She was beginning to become impatient now.

"Look, I can't just dump everything here at once. I'll scrounge something up for you later. The file is going to take a while to put together though since you insist on "living off the grid" and what not."

"One-week, same time." Raven established; with her ability it would be redundant specifying a location to meet at. All that matter was that he knew when she would stop by.

A grunt of discontent left her when he didn't even bother to voice whether or not he approved of the agreement. She was not happy with the excuse but she was not unreasonable. Qrow's role as the foremost scout for Ozpin's little cult was not a position that he skipped out on. The sheer volume of his report was bound to be massive.

Wordlessly, she took her leave, leaping out of a nearby window. A corvid fluttering into the sky not long after her descent. A frown made its way to the lone Branwen's face, the comfortable environment of the pub now spoiled by the recent conversation. Not that dissuaded him in the least. If anything, he was now even more motivated to get plastered as soon as possible.

The woman he had been eyeing materialized into the corner of his vision, her features masked by a streak of black bangs. Had she approached earlier he may have made a pass at her but after his most recent "family reunion" he was no longer feeling up for it. Her form retreating out of the establishment without having ordered a single thing.

XxXxX

Further near the closing of the day at Beacon Academy one Glynda Goodwitch stalked the halls. Her heeled soles reverberating off the tile flooring sharply and with a sense of purpose.

Ever the studious one, Glynda had her nose deep within her tablet; a despondent sigh exiting her lungs as she readjusted her glasses. Her frown marring her lips harshly as she shook her head before tapping away at the screen of her device with a renewed vigor. The adjustments she had made, however, did not seem to improve her mood and only caused her brow to crease even further with frustration.

"Going for another midnight stroll I presume?" A voice that had sounded far too sagely for its youthful tone touched Glynda's ears.

"Why yes actually. I've been finding them to be quiet enlightening as of late." She answered from behind her tablet, not bothering to look up to acknowledge the face the academy's headmaster.

"I never considered you to be the sentimental type." Ozpin implored; brow cocked.

"One of us has to be the practical one in this arrangement." Not that that stopped the being from derailing all her meticulously crafted planning at a sheer whim. Honestly, with how often the man went off script Glynda spent more time planning for her plans to be overruled in favor of some kind of enlightened overarching plot. Just one of the many quirks that came with her position as Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy.

"Quiet." A pregnant silence followed Ozpin's curt response.

It wasn't until several moments of lip biting contemplation later that Glynda had determined whether or not what she had in mind was worth adding to the plate of a man who literally held the fate of the world in his grasps.

"I met someone. A man in the woods. He is…remarkable to say the least." She finally found the courage to mention. Her graze following the night peaking in from an adjacent window at the edge of her screen in favor of her superior.

"How unexpected." Ozpin's voice displaying not even a touch of surprise despite his words. "A fanciful meeting under the stars, away from the distractions of society. Quiet the romantic getaway Glynda."

Glynda's composure never broke but Ozpin had existed long enough to take account of her tells. Her concentration had finally vacated from her tablet and was now facing him directly. A touch of pink dusting the tip of her normally pale ears as she cleared her throat of anything that may interfere with the coming explanation.

Glynda was, in most cases, a heavily guarded individual but with just the right amount of prodding she would become much more forthcoming. Her distaste for dead air while in his presence and her tendency for overexplaining herself while flustered being two prime examples. Thankfully, she only became this way while in the presence of those she had known for an extensive number of years, the like of which were all aware of the secrets discussed behind closed doors.

It was part of the reason he had set her on the path to encounter Shirou Emiya in the first place.

"Nothing of the sort." Her tone never deviating from a perfectly even plane. "I'm merely providing him with instruction as compensation for attacking him upon our first meeting."

"You attacked him?" Ozpin said, hiding his expression behind the rim of his mug.

"Not intentionally. I wasn't expecting to run into another human while in the Emerald Forest and lashed out at him on instinct."

"I see. That could have ended poorly." Ozpin pondered; it would appear that this Shirou fellow that Qrow was so wary of even more skilled than he imagined. It was one thing to dispatch a handful of untrained men and another to survive a surprise attack from someone on the level of Glynda.

Not to say that he was at all shaken by the discovery in the least. He had read Qrow's file on the man; beyond the critical lens that Qrow tended to shine upon him there were distinct accounts of said Emiya going toe to toe with Huntsmen in the past and coming out on top. Glynda just did him the service of confirming that not all of Qrow's concerns were unfounded.

"I thought so as well. It was why I was so quick to offer him free tutoring; not that I have made any strides in that department…" Glynda said, her voice breaking into a slight melancholy flavor for just a moment.

"Really? Is he that poor of a student?" Outside of a few glaring exceptions, there were few that left Glynda's classes empty handed.

"Quite the opposite really. I believe it is my skill as an instructor that is insufficient." She admitted, crossing her arms almost as if to hide more of herself from the shame.

"In what way? Possession of an unwieldy semblance perhaps?" Ozpin asked, shifting the conversation in the direction that he desired.

"No, he seems rather proficient with it; much better than others with a similar background in fact. His ability to Reinforce all aspects of an object is refined to the point that even mundane objects can used as deadly weapons." She said, her analysis earning a tinge of confusion to develop in Ozpin's mind. From Qrow's reports, Shirou Emiya possessed the semblance of Weapon Creation, not this…Reinforcement.

"Hm that is interesting. Though, it isn't uncommon for those with natural aptitude to become rather unruly." It was one of the underlying problems with today's society. Unlocking one's semblance for all intents and purpose made individuals superhuman. Depending on the extent of their gift, a child could feel less inclined to adhere to the guidelines etched out for the common man.

"By my accounts I don't think he has a disrespectful bone in his body." Her professional exterior cracking just slightly to allow a tender smile to seep through. "No, my inability to teach him anything meaningful lies solely with my ineptitude as a combat instructor."

"Now Glynda, don't you think your being a bit too harsh on yourself?"

"Not at all, his skill level is merely far too advanced for someone such as myself to provide anything of value." Glynda said through a grimace, her fingers balling into fists. There were many things Glynda Goodwitch took pride in but out of all of them her ability to teach and her spotless record when handling debts were among the top of the list. Her current predicament must have been eating her up inside.

"What of other subjects of study?"

The question posed a perplexed expressed to develop on Glynda's face. "Other subjects?"

"I hadn't hired you to solely fill the role of a training advisor. Part of working at Beacon Academy calls professors to be flexible in their curriculum just as we expect our students to be in their development." Ozpin answered with the expectations that he had laid out for every Professor during their interview.

A blank stare was his answer. Quiet the rare sight on his Deputy Head Mistress.

"You did evaluate him beyond just basic combat, correct?" Ozpin punctuated with a particularly long sip.

The slight redness of the of her ears and her sudden retreat was all he needed to decipher the answer to that question. Masking her expression behind her focus toward revising her lesson plan was a nice touch.

Tonight's impromptu information debriefing had been enlightening to say the least.

Ozpin had always believed in giving others another chance, had he been burned every bridge at a moment's notice he wouldn't have nearly as much support as he did today. It was in his hope, that with time, Glynda's interactions with this Emiya fellow would unveil a side that Qrow may have overlooked; a side that would prove him as a trustworthy enough individual to bring into the fold.

But in the off chance that Qrow was proven correct…well preparing for the enemy you know was much preferable to the one you never knew existed.

XxXxX

The following morning, in an unremarkable corner of Vale, Beacon's youngest team leader in history happily plugging away at a pack of chocolate chip cookies (the likes of which definitely had not been intended for a single person to put away in one sitting). It had been a long and eventful week for her and she was not going to let something as minor as cavities stop her from enjoying her weekend to the fullest.

Looking back at it all, it was surreal just how much had happened in such a short amount of time. She had assisted in thwarting a dust robbery; been personally invited to Beacon Academy two years in advance; decapitated her first Nevermore (which was awesome by the way); been put in charge of her own team; and somehow managed to resolve an internal dispute between her and her partner Wiess all within two months.

A fluttering sensation filled her with excitement at what the rest of her time at Beacon would entail. A whirlwind of fantastical scenarios flashed within her mind faster than she could comprehend them. Her dream was becoming more closer and closer by the day and she would have her team backing her up every step of the way.

…Her team.

At that moment, the pen detailing tales of heroism being written within her mind fell from the pages. The sweets that she had been delighting up until this point tasting more and more like sand with each chew.

As Team Leader her desires were no longer solely her own. It wasn't just about her anymore, their concerns came first and hers second. She had already dealt with friction between her new teams through her and Wiess and she could only imagine what other struggles the team would face in the future. The inevitability of human conflict, however, was not what had soiled her mood but rather what was happening in the moment that concerned her.

Yang Xiao Long, her only sister, and the Y to Team RWBY: was not okay.

She did well in concealing it from others but all their years spent together couldn't keep anything hidden from Ruby for long. Ever since that night, something had stuck with her sister; a hesitance that bogged down the confidence in her step. Emotions that Ruby hadn't seen since the expedition they had made as kids was beginning to bubble underneath the surface of that manufactured smile that she had taken to wearing.

Yang, her sister who she owed the world to, was suffocating; stalked by a terror that she could not escape.

Something had to be done about it. But she couldn't for the life of her figure out what. She had already tried the direct approach but Yang was stubborn and would suffer in silence for as long as she thought her situation would inconvenience those around her. It was a trait that she equally loved and hated about her sister. When they were younger it wasn't uncommon for Yang go out of her way for her sister despite her own wellbeing; at one point even venturing out into town to fetch cough medicine for Ruby when she herself was stricken with a fever.

An uncharacteristic sense of dread filled Ruby's core. She didn't know what to do. With enough hope, Yang would return to normal on her own but even she wasn't naïve enough to ward out the possibility of the opposite happening, forever plagued by an irrational fear.

Rising from her musing, Ruby came to a stop at her destination. A stairwell with a simple sword shaped sign etched with the words "The Lonely Mountain" as the only form of advertisement for the store entrance. Anything more extravagant would simply be overkill given the fame of its owner. The personal workshop of the blacksmith charged with forging the blue prints drawn up by Vale's future heroes.

It hadn't been the intended purpose behind her visit but there must have been something that Vale's number one expert on weapons could tell her about Yang's condition.

XxXxX

As Beacon's youngest future huntress descended down the staircase, a woman sitting on a bench located near the foot of the shop's entrance released a breath that she hadn't known she had been holding. The book that she had buried herself in so thoroughly lowering to her lap.

Cinder Fall was not having the best luck as of late.

Not only was Shirou Emiya proving to be more elusive than she imagined but in her search for information she had also discovered that Qrow Branwen was no longer scouring for leads outside the kingdoms like her information had predicted. Granted, discovering this now was much more preferable to being caught flat footed by his presence later but not by much. Unlike all the other annoyances, he was one that could not be taken lightly.

After an entire day of fruitlessly picking apart every notable member of the underground that she could think of she had decided to take a step away from her search for just a moment. Frustration would only lead her to becoming sloppy, something that could be fatal for her plans now more than ever given recent discoveries.

So, she had instead directed her energy toward something useful; arriving at the workshop of Vale's leading blacksmith to determine whether or not it had a place at this particular stage of her plans. On one hand, such a reputable establishment coming to harm would ratchet up the unease in the Kingdom's people; breaking the perception that certain businesses were safe from harm under the right situations. However, on the other hand, doing so would also likely call down the wrath of the locale huntsman population; a sizable portion of them having built up a cordial relationship with the person who had provided them with the first step to their careers as Huntsmen.

This mental debate of hers had never come to a consensus. The sight of a familiar red hooded girl capturing all of her attention.

If was an irrational precaution. Cinder was well aware that the girl had not seen her face and outside of activating her new Maiden powers in her attire of choice that she wasn't likely to be recognized. Be that as it may, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

With the girl's presence she would have to cut her reconnaissance short. It was much too early to call on her alibi as a foreign exchange student and sticking around to form memories that may conflict with that image was just asking for trouble.

Cinder was in the middle of pondering where she could resume her search for her target when the voice of the girl that she had just avoided rang out from the shop's entrance.

"Hephaestus~!"

"Ah, a customer? I'm sorry but the owner is currently busy right now." Strange, she was under the impression that the blacksmith didn't possess any employees.

"I'm here for-Woah! It's so dark!"

"Yes, please be careful there are a lot of-" That overly profession manner of speaking, there was no way he could be here of all places, not after she had gone through all the effort to locate him. It was completely asinine; fortune just doesn't fall into your lap when you least expect it.

"I'm blind! Woah! Woah! Gah!" A crash much more spectacular than a girl as small as Ruby should have been capable of thundered within the weapon shop.

"…-Tools all over the floor."

XxXxX

A pained expression made its way to Shirou's face at the harsh sound of metal crashing to the floor. Shaking his head, he descended from his position at the top of a ladder; navigating his way through the blackness of the establishment to flip a circuit breaker on the nearby wall. The shop illuminating with the exception of a couple of stray electrical lighting ballasts scattered about the ceiling.

He shot the one he had been working on with a frown before turning his attention to the mess located near the entrance of the shop…and then toward the red cloak planted face first in a pile of tools and miscellaneous Huntsmen goods. To be honest, outside of the tools that he had brought with him, the girl had miraculously managed to keep her spill fairly isolated. The mess surrounding her being more due to the random and haphazard nature that the owner kept the shop than the fall itself. In fact, the manner which she had knocked over some of the shop's goods may have organized it better than had been before.

Clearing the pile of equipment that had fallen on top of the figure, he gave her a gentle nudge to verify whether or not she was still with the living. "Hey, you alright?"

"Guhhhh, ow…" The bundle of red groaned pathetically.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said with a snort to keep himself from chuckling at the bundle's current predicament. "Here let me help you up."

"Sank you." It mumbled, taking the offered hand to lift itself to its full height of just barely the middle of his torso. The red bundle shook to clear any lingering cobwebs; its hood coming undone to reveal the youthful face of a girl with black hair bearing red highlights and…

"…Silver eyes." Shirou voiced with a mixture of bewilderment and wonder.

"Uh…yeah?" She said, a puzzled expression coming to her face. What was up with white haired guys and her eyes these days?

She lingered on the thought for just a second before a sharp spike of outrage filled her tiny form. "Hey! What's the big idea leaving all these things where people can trip and stuff?!"

"There was a sign." Shirou answers unceremoniously.

"Nuh uh, or else I totally would have seen it."

Her attention was suddenly drawn to Shirou's finger pointing at a sheet of paper on the open wooden door, one written in owner's near Times New Roman penmanship reading "Closed for Repairs".

The following "Oh" was said less verbally and more visually via the perfect oval shape of her mouth.

"A recent power outage fried a lot of the wiring to the lights of the building. The owner had the shop closed down while I worked so that customers wouldn't get hurt trying to navigate the shop in the dark." One of the detracting factors that came with owning a business below street level. It may be more interesting aesthetically but it suffered from natural lighting and display space. Then again with how the rest of the shop was (not) organized, it seemed that the owner was focused less on how her merchandise looked good on a wall and more on how it would fair in the hands of someone who knew how to use them. Each piece of equipment lazily propped up on the shelves being a masterpiece in their own right.

"Aw man, is she at least still in?" The girl asked hopefully.

"Yes, but she seemed rather immersed in her latest project. I imagine she wouldn't want to be disturbed."

"…Oh." The Rose's form wilted; her hopes dashed. "…Well, I guess I'll just come back another time then."

A frown marred Shirou's expression as he watched her go. She just looked so pitiful. With how deeply her shoulders sagged and how heavily she dragged her feet on her way out he might as well have told her he'd kicked her puppy.

"Wait!" Had she been a Faunus he imaged that now would have been the moment that her ears would have shot to attention. "Maybe I can help you."

"Really?" Silver eye twinkled like starlight. The Faunus symmetry persisted, an imaginary tail wagging in place of the ears that he had imagined previously.

"I can't speak for my confidence with firearms but my understanding of traditional weaponry is above average at least." He reaffirmed.

"Ohhhhh, thank you so much!" She chirped happily. A rectangular bundle appearing to have apparated in her hands with how fast she had retrieved it from her utility belt.

"Hmmm," Shirou analyzed the weapon with a knowing look in his eyes as he moved over to a work bench located near the register. "What's wrong with it?"

"Crescent Rose has been having some trouble getting its blade out when I switch it to scythe form. It's not by a lot but it enough to be noticeable." She spoke clearly and without the normal awkward cadence that she normally did. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the issue but to her it was the equivalent of her very fingers being a second behind; they would still do what they needed to but the unresponsiveness would aggravate her to no end.

He nodded in agreement, hitting the mechanism to unfurl the weapon to its full length without needing to be prompt by its owner. The three pieces comprising the edge of the main blade of the weapon following the rest of the weapon just a tab bit slower than the rest. The care and familiarity he displayed while handling the weapon giving its owner confidence in her decision in allowing a random electrician to lay his hands on her baby.

Golden bronze veiled themselves as he ran his is palm along the weapon's surface in a trance. Its history flowing through him with each passing breath.

Suddenly, his sixth sense screamed and his eyes shot open to see a bob of red and black staring back from the other side of the counter intently. "Mind if I watch?"

She had always been a curious thing, even more so when it came to weapons, their make; their intended purpose; the personality that bled through once in the hands of its wielder: all of it fascinated her. To her, a person's weapon was a reflection of their soul; purer and more beautiful than what can be peered through the windows looking out from one's face. Dreams and aspirations given form, an extension of themselves.

Of course, he already knew this.

"Sure thing Ruby." He answered with a smile, her outlook providing him with a much-needed breath of fresh air.

Ruby's brow furrowed, wondering when she had told the man her name before dismissing the thought and chalking it up to her own lack of attention to the words that fell out of her mouth.

How else would he have known otherwise?

XxXxX

"Where did you say you found this again?" A stern woman's voice called from behind the lens of a microscope.

"A colleague of mine found it after following the rumors of a stretch of land experiencing an influx of Grimm activity in recent years. What he found was the ruins of a village, destroyed by human conflict. This was found imbedded within one of the structures." A male voice answered, his voice warped by the distant and artificial pander that came with using the video feature of a Scroll rather than the tradition call function.

"Fascinating." The microscope moved away from the sample to reveal a woman bearing tanned skin and short, curly red hair. "Was this the only one he was able to recover Professor?" She asked, bringing the sample closer to her singular eye in order to get a more personal look at it.

What lay within the grips of the woman's tweezers was a shard of metal; bright red in color. Judging from the rounded base near the edge, the remains of a spear head if she were to guess; exquisitely crafted using a method that she jealously wished she know.

"Doctor." He corrected automatically much to her amusement. "Unfortunately, yes. I take something about the sample has captured your interest."

"It's definitely better than anything I've made yet; can't even imagine what it went up against to break it."

"Interesting, with how exemplary your weapons are, such praises are not to be given without merit." He said while adjusting his glasses from behind the screen. "Though, from your tone, I imagine that is not the only thing that you discovered."

"Can't say." She answered, never sparing a moment to turn away from the shard. "I'll have to run a few more tests to be sure."

"Very well, I'll leave it in your care for now. It isn't as if it would prove insightful while in the hands of a novice such as myself anyways."

"Hm," Was her only indication that she had been listening to anything he had said; seeing that his presence was no longer welcome, he ended the call.

The moment the screen had turned black the blacksmith brought the shard to her bare finger, watching intently as the jagged edge of the metal ushered out a thin stream of red liquid to run from the appendage. Blood continuing to run freely for as long as she held the mysterious metal to her fingertip. It wasn't until the remains of the spear was lifted from her skin that her Aura finally came into effect, sealing the wound within second without even a scar to show for it.

A feeling that she hadn't felt in years swelled within her chest. A desire to bring her craft to new heights.

Truth be told, she had plateaued long ago. Any work beyond the admissions from the Huntsmen academies had brought her little to no joy. She couldn't even recall the last time she made anything out of her own free will.

But this…this changed everything.

She had heard of Semblances with the ability to bypass Aura but never a weapon, unenhanced by dust and without the will of the user to dictate its actions. Something interesting had just arrived at her doorstep, a new method of smithing that she wasn't aware of. Another ceiling to break through.

Casting her singular eye toward the clock, she shelved her giddiness to exit her workshop and enter into the storefront to check on how the repairman she had hired was doing.

Light shined back at her, which more than she could say when she had left it to him. Seeing the empty ladder, the smith scanner her shop for her wayward repairman only to see a familiar red hood bouncing up and down at one of her workbenches.

The second silver had locked on to her a rush of rose petals wrapped her up in its embrace. "Hephaestus! Hi."

Hephaestus let out a soft chuckle as she returned the hug. "It's good to see you too Ruby. How's Beacon treating you?"

"Oh, it's been great! You'll never guess what happened."

"And what's that?" She said, a smile making its way to her lips at the girl's antics.

"They made me the leader of my very own team. You're looking at the brand-new leader of Team RWBY." She boasted proudly, puffing her chest out in what she imagined was a noble stance. "And yes…it can get a little confusing…"

"Look at you, youngest student to be accepted into Beacon and a Team Leader to boot; with how much glory you've hogged already there'll be none left for your sister." Ruby's stance faltered for just a second. "How is Yang doing by the way? I haven't seen her since she picked up Ember Celica."

"She's~…doing~…good?" Ruby's eyes flashed over to the white-haired stranger examining her scythe before turning back to Hephaestus. "Listen, can we talk more about that…maybe later…"

Hephaestus' jolly expression turned sour as she noted how meek her favorite customer had become at the mentioning of her sister. "Sure thing Ruby, no problem. So, what brings you by today?" She said shifting the subject for her patron's sake.

"Oh, just need some work done on Crescent Rose. Shirou's got it though."

"Shirou?" She said, turning to the man inspecting one of her creations (the likes of which who's name she just now realized she hadn't asked). "The guy I hired to work on the lighting?"

"Yeah! I didn't think he'd be any help either."

"I'm still here you know." He said without any real malice behind his voice.

"But he turned out to know way more than I thought. He may even know more about weapons than you Hephaestus."

Hephaestus' remaining eye creased into near slits at the accusation. "Really now?"

"Hardly, as if I could compare to a literal God of Smithing."

"God of Smithing?" The older woman echoed.

"Nothing, just a bit of an inside joke of mine." Shirou answered with a light chuckle.

Seeing that Shirou had finished tinkering, Ruby rushed over to his side. "Is it done yet?"

"Just about, I did some realignments to the gears and greased the joints but if you want it back to one hundred percent capability, you're going to want to change out the blades. They seem to have been warped just enough to interfere with the transformation process."

"Ah, must have been the Nevermore." Ruby said, while bringing her fist to her open palm in a gesture of realization.

"Nevermore?" Hephaestus questioned, last time she checked Beacon's initiation didn't involve Grimm of such notoriety.

"Yeah, it was Ah-wesome! Used Crescent Rose to drag it up a cliff and everything!" Ruby cheered in a voice that seemed far too excited to be attributed to the decapitation of a giant bird monster. The sound effects being produced from her mouth collaborating with the animated gestures of her body to illustrate the scene like some kind of strange interpretive dance.

"That would explain the warping." Hephaestus commented, glancing over at Shirou's handy work.

"Hm, Grimm may not be as heavy as they look but one of that size would still require a great deal of strength to lift." Shirou droned on.

"Haha, thanks but I could have never done it if it wasn't for my partner's Semblance doing most of the work." Ruby said sheepishly.

"Regardless, pulling off something like that at your age is still quite remarkable. You should be proud." A light blush crept up Ruby's cheeks at his words. It was rare for her to get compliments, let alone from handsome men (her dad and uncle didn't count).

"You've encountered a Nevermore before?" Hephaestus questioned. Citizens of the Kingdom's seldom left their borders. Only Huntsman and their regional equivalents could hope to survive an encounter with a Grimm of that caliber. Anyone else might as have be a sitting duck.

"Anyways, I would suggest putting an order for more blades with the Owner. Can't have me stealing away her business from under her nose. Might want to get a couple spare sets made too just in case." Shirou quickly changed the subject, not even considering pretending that he had acknowledged what the woman had said.

"Agreed," Hephaestus said while surveying Shirou's work for any discrepancies. It was nowhere near her level. From the way some of pieces looked to have been moved, there had been a lot of guess work involved; edging more along the lines of a full-scale disassembly than a routine diagnostic. But given what she had hired him for, the job had been handled solidly. "Slaying monsters isn't kind to a weapon. A professional Huntsman should expect to have to replace parts every three to four months."

Ruby swallowed heavily at the number. Her style of combat already required her to spend a good chunk of her allowance on ammunition as is, now she had to factor in parts as well? She could already feel her wallet crying from the inside of her pocket.

"But~," Hephaestus added as if sensing her plight, "since there is cause for celebration, I suppose I we could treat this one as a bit of a congratulatory gift for officially making it to Beacon."

The effect was immediate, the girl nearly taking the blacksmith off her feet. "Oh, thank you so much. I'll be sure to pay you back."

A wince of pain flashed on Hephaestus' face as she noted Ruby having accidently bumped into her bad knee in her excitement. Fighting through the ache in her knee, Hephaestus flashed the girl a smile. "Think nothing of it. It wouldn't be much of a gift if you ended up paying for it."

"…I guess so…" Ruby grumbled, not exactly pleased to feel indebted to one of the few people on her meager list of friends.

"You're a good kid Ruby. Stop by the shop same time next week to pick up your new blades. We can have our talk then." The woman's voice shifting to a more serious tone near the end.

Ruby's thinned into a sharp line as she returned the woman's words with a solemn nod. "Thanks again for the help Shirou!" She chirped loudly, whatever emotional baggage she carried being stowed away behind a bubbly smile.

"Not a problem, though if you don't mind me asking; I'm assuming that you go through a lot of ammo with your current design." He noted.

"Woah, I was just thinking that. Can you read minds?" Just as quickly as the conversation was heading on track Ruby's attention span thought fit to derail it.

"Hardly, I just figured with your how big your weapon is that a girl of your size would still have trouble handling it effectively unless they had thought of a method to overcome the normal strength required."

"You figured that all out just from a tinkering with her weapon for a little bit?" Hephaestus interjected; eyebrow cocked in suspicion.

"Um…isn't it obvious?" Shirou questioned, how else would a girl barely over five feet tall swing something as massive as Crescent Rose?

"Totally can read minds", He heard Ruby voice in what he imagined was her attempt at a whisper.

"Right, well…have you ever thought of developing another form for your weapon on the off change that you ever ran out of ammo." Shirou asked, a complicated look developing on the girl's face.

"No, not…really…" Ruby's voice trailed off as she stared at nothing in particular. To be honest, she had never imagined how she would be able to fight without ammo to augment her swings. Even if she was stronger than she was in the past there was still only so much she could do without the assistance of recoil.

Another form? One that didn't require ammo for her to use. Her mind traced back the steps she had undergone to develop the blue prints for her weapon. A scythe, based on the form that her mother had helped Uncle Qrow to get working.

"Um…Is she okay?" Shirou asked, unbeknownst to the girl it had been a full five minutes since she had gone into her trance like state.

"Oh, she's fine. It just how she gets whenever she's thinking about weapons." Hephaestus waved off. Instead of recoiling back at the behavior Shirou only nodded as if such a thing was the most natural thing in the world.

Picking up her cane that she had left propped up against the counter top, Hephaestus began hobbling her way back to the back room. "Well, I'll leave you back to your work."

"Will she be okay right there?"

"Another form…like Uncle Qrow's…" Ruby muttered, not at all paying any attention to the other two occupants of the room.

"No need to worry. Once she's done, she'll be out here faster than-" In the middle of Hephaestus' explanation Ruby's soul finally returned to her eyes. One of the lights above Ruby's head illuminating without warning. Then, as if a jet engine had gone off in a rose garden, the weapon shop erupted into red petals; painting the walls crimson briefly before dissipating into thin air. A whistling sounding something along the lines of "GottaFindUncleThanksKayByeBeBackNextWeek" being the only indication that a girl had once occupied the open space next to him.

"-Well that." She continued flashing a smile at Shirou's stunned expression, his hair slightly blown back from the girl's stunt.

"I'll get back to work." Shirou deadpanned.

"You do that, I'll be in the back if you need me." Just as the door to the workshop of the building was about to seal shut the woman lingered at the door for just a moment. "Also, if another customer stops by be sure to kindly show them to the door. Ruby's one thing but I could do without the entirety of Remnant stopping by to bother me."

"Of course, Boss." Shirou answered, waiting patiently for the door to fully seal shut.

He turned back to the ladder in the center of the room but before he could even think about returning to his job, his noise twitched in irritation. The smell of freshly cut roses still permeated the air but as it began to dissipate a familiar scent made its way to his nostrils. One of ash and fire.

Without even looking for the source of the smell Shirou projected his voice in the direction of a corner of the room still shrouded in darkness. "You heard the Boss, no more customers today. I'll kindly have to ask you to leave."

The unnatural depth of the shadow persisted for just a moment as if in defiance of his claims before a familiar figure of a woman melted out of the blackness and into the light.

XxXxX

Cinder could hardly believe it. After searching for so long without hearing nary a peep of his whereabouts he up and appeared right when she had least expected him. It was as if the more she searched for him the further away he became but stand still for just a moment and all of a sudden, he's right in front of her.

Destiny works in strange ways sometimes.

But she digressed. Her target was right before her and apparently with a new cover to replace the one that he had abandoned at such short notice. She wondered just where he would flee to next? Or perhaps he would bunker down for a while? Her mind already filling with possible contingencies in the occurrence that she would have to flush him out again. She had never able to rely on luck to cover for her in the past so why should she depend on it now?

Growing tired of the silence, she moved to take matters into her own hands but her target beat her to it. "Do you normally lurk around corners eavesdropping on people's conversations?"

"I merely found it difficult to insert myself into the scene." Not that she could have with that girl wandering about.

"Somehow I find that very hard to believe." He said while exhaling a huff of annoyance. There was only so much he could do now without securing the power to lighting ballasts first.

"The only customer today has been Little Red. Unless you also happen to be a teenager with bullets for brains."

"And if I am?" She said while closing the distance to her target, her fingers straying on the passing weapons and armor on her path.

"A comedian? I thought you were a Bullhead Pilot." He noted whilst sorting through his tools.

Cinder's nearly blanched at the suggestion. Behind the wheel of one of those retched machines was the last place she wanted to be after that first night.

"What can I say? I'm a woman of many…talents." She purred, expecting a blubbering mess only to be met with an unnervingly blank stare.

"What do you want?" Shirou said, seeming more irritated by her presence than anything else. "Revenge for having the gall to speak against you?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

His silence beckoned for her to continue.

"Dinner, my treat. To…make up…for my behavior when we first met." Cinder layered on a hint of uncertainty to her tone, to craft the image of a woman having difficulty getting across what she had to say.

"You want to go on a date?"

"No, nothing like that. Things at work hadn't gone well that day and I just wanted to express how sorry I am for blowing up on you like that." Like an actor in a play, she casts her gaze at just the right angle. Her manicured hand crossing her torso to cradle her opposite forearm like a lifeline, a barrier that was often subconsciously used to cope with discomfort. The action signified uncertainty, as if to brace its user for the coming rejection.

From the corner of her vision she scanned his expression. His poker face was ironclad but she knew what really lay beneath that façade. Men were baser, simple creatures; eager to please for the most pitiful of rewards. No matter how intelligent they thought they were the result was always the same.

They would fall.

The bait had been set. Now it was just a matter of time before the rat fell within her trap. He would scurry along at first, unaware of the danger but by the time he developed any suspicions it would already be too late. The cheese that he had so happily delighted in being the very thing that would bring about his end.

Burning embers peaked through a curtain of black, peering up at him bashfully. He recoiled back for just a second, fissures developing along his defense.

It was time to spring her trap.

She twiddled a lock of her hair nervously. The act of perfecting one appearance subliminally transmitting a feeling of interest in her target. "Though, if that's what you want it to be…a date that is…I wouldn't mind." Holding her breath, a splash of blush was painted on to her illusion.

He was hesitating longer than expected, no doubt taken aback by her advances. He would struggle but with something so sweet dangled before his nose, he would not be able to resist and before long he too would careen himself to his doom. All for the smallest chance to collect a prize that would forever be out of reach.

It was actually kind of sad really: how predictably shallow people could be. Outwardly they would preach of a deeper need, that it wasn't the cover of a book that mattered but the content within. Yet the moment appearance actually came into play how quickly they would shed their masks of sophistication to unveil their true colors.

Her victory was already guaranteed. She couldn't wait to put her new pawn to use.

"Sorry, but I think I'll pass."

"Great, there's a restaurant near the CCT that has taken to using a special kind of dust to incorporate a more scientific approach to-…" Just then her brain caught up with the words that had exited his mouth. Her world of absolute causality shattering like glass.

"What did you just say?" Cinder's tone darkened, flecks of her true personality threating to burst out of the shell comprising the nervous, lovestruck girl on the surface.

"I'll pass." Shirou repeated without a hint of fanfare.

Her canines gnashed within her jaw. The affirmation of his rejection causing her soul to burn within her. Her persona like a balloon threatening to burst. "M-May I ask why?" She scrambled to put together a heartbroken expression, her haste causing her product to lack the grace of her prior works.

"I would say that it had something to with how busy I am," He said while gesturing the tools and parts scattered around him, "but that would be lying."

"To be frank, I just don't like you."

The illusion caught fire.

Immolated in a tower of righteous fury.

The sigil on her spine burned. Her own, fragile restraint being the only thing stopping the magical power from igniting her iris in a corona of angry orange.

How darehe deny what was rightfully hers!

"Excuse me, I'm the one whose treating you." Shirou not at all surprised by her sudden mood shift.

"I never asked you to do that."

"It's payback for the disrespect I showed you when we first me." She said through a seething grimace.

"Do you hear yourself? You sound more like a child repeating themselves during a tantrum rather than someone asking for forgiveness." Shirou struck back bluntly, appearing more disinterested than flustered. His apathetic response only serving to stoke the fire within Cinder more.

Beauty fashioned into an impersonation of a fish caught out of water. "Do you realize what you're turning down? How many others would jump for the same opportunity that you're squandering?"

"Then let them. I'm perfectly fine here on the ground." Shirou casted over his shoulder, not bother to watch her storm out of the shop. He still had a lot of work to do.

XxXxX

Cinder finally came to a stop in a non-descript alley, an angry orange glow threatening to spill forth from the sleeves of her cardigan. Steam rising from her panting mouth as she strangled the thundering in her chest to a manageable rhythm. The palm that had been keeping her propped up against the alley wall sizzled, the brick and mortar underneath turning into molted glass under her touch. Light of a soul on fire empowered her form as her fist struck the newly formed glass causing a spider web pattern to form around the blow.

How long had it been since she had been so…so humiliated?

She could not believe how easily he had brushed aside her charms.

The flames of her rage burned so harshly that she was hesitant to imagine what would have happened had she stayed within that insufferable place for a single second longer. Years of planning and preparation all down the drain due to the actions of a single man. She would not have been able to live with herself…let alone her master.

She could still see that dull look in his eyes even now and it infuriated her, exponentially more so than the look of outrage that Adam Taurus had displayed to her when she had first attempted to bring The White Fang under her control. At least there had been an emotion within that expression. Shirou Emiya had merely gazed upon her efforts as if he were bored. As if she were nothing but a pebble on his path; not even worthy of his attention.

She would not stand to be looked upon that way…not again.

Anger once again threaten to spiral her Maiden powers out of control. She would need a means of quenching the heat within her if she wished to maintain her sanity.

"Looky what we have here boys." Cinder Fall turned her smoldering gaze at the direction of the voice to reveal a group of Faunus blocking her path. In her current state, she must have not noticed them approaching her.

"An itty-bitty human lost and alone on our turf." The one who she assumed was the leader spoke. She put no more effort into grafting his appearance to memory.

In the short amount of time she had possessed her new power she had learned that the best way to wrangle it back under her control was to bleed off the excess.

The fabric of her outer layer incinerating into ash to reveal runes of flame crawling up her exposed arms. Heat becoming visible to the naked eye. The light of her sigil burning through her tank top with a hunger starved red.

The display caused the group of Faunus to recoil back in fear.

"You will do."

The leader didn't have a chance to speak his confusion before claws of fire encased his skull within of world of agony. His underlings moved to run but those who had tried were barred by walls of scorching heat. Their cries falling on deaf ears within the sparsely populated outer districts.

Whilst the slaughter was underway a glint of determination sparked within Cinder Fall's eyes. A vow of defiance christened by the screams of men who she didn't even know the names of. Their cries may satisfy her power but when the dust had settled, she would be left empty. A desire for the pleas of a specific nature was the only thing that would be able silence her need.

Shirou Emiya would be hers…whether he liked it or not…

XxXxX

Author's Notes:

I didn't go comb through this chapter as much as the others so hopefully there aren't that many errors. I'll try to put something together within the next two to three weeks but no promises.

Anyway, as always, if you have any concerns feel free to review or to PM me. I read everything sent my way.