[IC] Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

[harinezumikouken]

Kuhaku Shiro - Drury Lanes' Arcade

He had to act quickly, whatever activated for him surely wouldn't last long. He could only assume that his character moved faster and hit harder for a brief period in time, maybe setting up for her Super or Ultimate. Seeing Robert have his character back into a corner and put up his shield in a feeble attempt to turtle it out, caused Shiro to scoff and smirk. "Heh." Normally, some Supers in fighting games could easily be blocked or dodged. But, Shiro knew how to handle those kinds of players. For those who attempted to evade, delaying a few seconds and good timing usually nailed them. For those who blocked it was even easier as most throws in fighters broke guards. Having his lady dash right up to the swordsman, he had her grab at the turtling scrublord and toss him behind her. Looking down at the console of the arcade machine, he found what he needed to activate her Super as Robert's character was still mid-air from being thrown and expertly tapped it in. Cocking her arm back she blasted forward for a match ending flaming right hook.

As the screen flashed to display and declare Shiro's victory, the faunus boy threw up his arms and cried out loudly, "WHOO!" tossing some of his tokens up into the air in a cascade of glittering victory. Jabbing at Robert's ribcage with his fingers, he rubbed it in some more. "In your FACE!"

[Guess Who]

Robert Fallson - The Arcade

Robert looked down at the ground in shame before responding to Shiro's boasting with a shrug. "Ah well, you won fair and square," he said as he stuck his hand forward for a handshake. "Good game, Shiro. Maybe I should get some more practice so that next time I might be less of a noob?" The red-haired teen looked down at his scroll to see the time before looking back up to Shiro. "Well, I should probably head back to the dorms. Have never been much of a good sleeper and we got combat class in the morning. Hopefully I'll be able to put up more of a fight in real combat. You coming with or will I see you again tomorrow in class?"

[harinezumikouken]

Kuhaku Shiro - Drury Lanes' Arcade

Looking at the 'Continue' screen, Shiro shrugged and decided to leave his campaign run unfinished for now. He had his fun. As he began to pick up the tokens he foolishly tossed up into the air, Shiro looked over at Robert's presented hand and grinned. Pocketing the tokens he recovered, he firmly took Robert's hand and shook it once. "Yeah, good game. You and I should hang out more. Maybe after classes we can come here and play some more? You'll only get better with more experience, y'know." Letting go of his hand, Shiro squatted down to pick up the remaining straggler tokens on the ground. Looking up at Robert as he checked the time on his Scroll, his pointed ears drooped a little. He wasn't expecting for Robert to leave so soon, but he guessed it was getting pretty late. "Nah, I'll hang around here a little bit more and maybe try my hand at bowling. I'll see you tomorrow during classes. Have a good night, boss." Resuming his token recovery, Scoot decided at that moment to come up and see what all the ruckus was about. Sniffing at a token as Shiro was lifting it off of the ground, Shiro smiled at his companion and petted the top of his head. "Aww, you missed it buddy. I totally just whomped Robert's butt in a game. What were you up to anyways?" Scoot tilted his head and exclaimed, "Food!"

Chuckling, Shiro leaned in closer and squinted to see little food particles around Scoot's muzzle. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, he wagged a finger at his friend. Clearly, the rodent had been scrounging around for scraps that were dropped onto the floor. "Come on, Scoot. You shouldn't eat food you find off the floor like that. You could get sick." The rodent tilted his head in the opposite direction, confused as to why he shouldn't stuff his face with every bit of chow he found. Patting Scoot on the head, Shiro stood and pocketing the final few tokens he had thrown everywhere. Looking up around him, his eyes fell on two girls that were playing one of the cover shooter games. Well, to be frank, only one of them was really playing. The other was just watching with a sour disinterested look to her eye, sipping on some drink with a funky looking straw. He recognized them as two of the new transfer students from a few days back. The very same ones whose lunch he 'dropped in' on.

Frowning, he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he quietly contemplated going up to them and apologize for his prior rude luncheon interruption. To make amends and maybe attempt to repair his terrible first impression. Part of him screamed at him not to, because there was something about the girl with the jacket and headphones that reminded him far too much of his team leader. That resemblance made him terribly uncomfortable, but a louder part of his inner voice told him to have some confidence and buck up. Maybe she was nothing like Sapphire, and actually a kind and nice gal. "That's wrong of me, I shouldn't think of her like that." Shiro thought. Turning back around to face Robert, he slipped his hand out to wave a goodbye. "See you 'round, Robbie." not even thinking about the nickname he just gave him. Whatever, it was probably a common one his teammates even used.

As Shiro slid his bandaged hand back into his jean pockets, Scoot spiraled up his leg to climb up his back ending on his shoulders again. Striding over to the two Haven transfer students, Shiro stopped a distance away as he quickly worked up the courage to speak to the girls. Clearing his throat, he put one of his usual bright smiles as he waved at them. "Ah, excuse me ladies." In hindsight, a terrible way to start off a conversation. Who starts a chat by excusing themselves? At the very least, no one could say Shiro didn't try to be respectful and polite.

[Lucius Cypher]

Gren Orchid & Clair Carnelian

"Ah. The garden's weren't too far Sorry about that. My team found me and dragged me to the air docks. I told them I'll hang back and wait for you though. Want me to come find you?" The garden's weren't too far away. He could liekly make it with a explosion assisted rocket jump.

Well, she thought. If I tell him I'll meet up with him, I might as well just go off on my own. But...

She looked off at the school's central spire, which loomed over the gardens. He does have my phone number, so it's not like he couldn't contact me. She sighed. Looks like I dug myself a little too deep with this one.

"Hello?" Gren asked. "Is anyone there?"

"Ah, yeah, sorry," she stumbled. "I'll just wait here for you. I still don't know my way around this place yet."

"Alright, shouldn't take me more then a minute. See you soon, and watch your head."

Gren hung up his Scroll and pointed his body in the direction of the gardens. Mentally, he calculated what would be the best means of propulsion: A rocket jump or a bullet jetpack? On one hand the rocket jump as actually more controlable for him, but that was only good for fairly short distances, about 30 meters at most. But with a bullet jetpack he could launch himself into the air, cut off the bullets, and land in the gardens with easy. Assuming that he could control his flight and doesn't end up blasting anyone unfortunate enough to be underneath him.

"Decisions decisions..."

About two minutes later Gren landed in the gardens with a thump. Fortunately he landed in a big pile of dirt well away from anyone else, minimizing the damage of his impact. Walking out and shaking the dirt off of him he called out. "Clair? Clair are you around here?"

"I'm over here, asshole," Clair said between bouts of coughing. She brushed clumps of dirt off of her skirt as the cloud of debris dispersed. "Did you really just launch yourself here from the air docks? Are you really that desperate?"

She shot him the dirtiest look that she could muster. This is way too much for one morning. And I just showered, too.

Gren shortly debated to himself what to say. On one hand, he was sorry for getting her dirty. On the other hand, he did say for her to watch her head. What was she doing next to a pile of dirt anyways? "Sorry about that. I thought I'd meet you at the air docks like I said, didn't think you'd come back here instead." Admitidly Gren was starting to put his his defenses now. As much as he thinks Clair is pretty, he's not about to let her looks overcome his pride.

"Also I don't know about you, but it's actually sometime in the afternoon. Hence why I asked if you had breakfast yet; seemed like you forgot a few things."

"Wha - no way, but it's... wait, what?" Clair looked at the time on her Scroll.

It was 3:00 PM, not 7:00 AM as she had been led to believe.

Why? The clock on her bedside table -

"Oh, dammit.

She had put new batteries in it before she left for Beacon, but she had forgotten to reset the time after the old batteries had died. That would explain why Sarina was already gone before she had left. It was Sunday afternoon.

She buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god... how did this happen? How could I have let this happen? No, no, no..." she grumbled. She turned to Gren. "You. You're telling me that I slept until three in the afternoon?"

Gren smirked, but quickly wiped the smile from his face. He could tease Clair about this more if he could lead her on. "Yes. Me. Gren. I can't say I know what you've been doing up until I met you, but if you just woke up then yeah. You slept right past breakfast and lunch." Still Gren could help but to let out a stifled laugh.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Today's Sunday, and there isn't much going on unless you had plans. Which by the way I should remind you, my friends just left about five minutes ago. We'll need to take the next airship if we want to catch up to them. So unless you have something planned for this afternoon, still want to tag along?"

"My life is a mess..." she mumbled. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'll come along. It's not like I know anyone here anyways."

"Well, I'll help you fix that soon, won't I?" Gren smirked.

"If you say so."

Given his height, it was hard for Clair to keep up with Gren, but the two of them managed to make it to the next shuttle, albeit a little winded.

"I'm part of Team Swansong by the way. Led by Sapphire Rode. I don't think I heard what Team you're from," he said.

Clair thought for a moment. "Well, if you could call the Princess and me a team, I guess I am on one. It doesn't have a name." She paused. "Ah, sorry. That's Sarina. It's just what I call her."

"Princess Sarina? Tell me about her." Gren had a feeling that this Sarina might sound a bit like his Sapphire, if Princess is any indication. He was still working out his feelings about his team leader; on one hand he's trying to respect her authority. On the other hand, he frankly just doesn't like her. Leadership is all she has on him. There's no camaraderie, no compassion for her. If she dies, Gren's only lament would be that they need a new leader. He knows more about her father then he knows about Sapphire, which was really the only thing about her that mattered at this point. He should fix that, truly. Do something to get this team together before it falls apart.

"Can't tell you much. I just met her yesterday. All I can say is that she's definitely not my type, but it looks like I'm stuck with her. She definitely seems like the kind of person who likes to keep to herself, and I can't say that I think that there's anything wrong with that." She crossed her arms. "But that's not exactly good roommate material, you know."

Not like I'm much better, she thought. But at least I can pretend to be sociable.

"Sounds rough." Though he didn't know much about Clair, she seemed the type to run on her own too. It must be awkward for her to be tagging along with Gren. And he thought he was the dorky one. "What's your definition of roommate material? Sounds like you're not exactly the sociable type either."

She raised her eyebrows and sighed. "Well, you're not wrong. My ideal roommate would be... well, ideally I wouldn't have one, but if I have to then it wouldn't kill for them to act like they know what socializing is. Just because I'm not good at it doesn't mean I don't know how to."

Gren let out a soft chuckle. "What is socializing?" The golden question. "I take it that Sarina isn't much of a talker? Or does she talk too much for your liking?" Getting to know these aloof types weren't easy. Sometimes though, you just need to give them the chance to say their peice. Surely Clair had something to say, just never the opprotunity to say something.

"I don't mind that she doesn't talk much. It's not like I have a lot to say to her, anyways. It's mostly just her attitude that bothers me. It's like she doesn't get how to act in social situations or something. It's one thing to be cold and distant, but you can't just... ugh. Sorry. I'm probably not making a lot of sense." She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that she has this 'ice queen' persona but she uses it at all the wrong times. Where she should try force herself to be a little sociable she comes across as callous, and in the times you least expect it she forces friendliness on you. If that makes any sense."

Gren nodded his head intently. He understood the jist of it... But he also had a feeling he wasn't getting the whole story. Like there were things that neither he nor Clair knew about Sarina. This was when Gren felt like he was at an impass. Shoule he ask her more about Sarina, or should Gren ask more about Clair? It certainly seemed like Clair had something to say about her partner. But then again, what if Clair wasn't the type for gossip? That would look awkward on Gren's part. He could inquire more about Clair instead, since he did want to get to know her. But she also made it fairly clear that she doesn't like to talk about herself much. A few moments of quiet contemplation and Gren spoke.

"I get ya. It makes her seem... Fake, I guess. Hard to tell what her problem is. Hard to try to get to know your teammates when they won't be honest with you. What about you? You do seem the distant type, but hopefully you're true to yourself too, right? You're not just tagging along out of pity, are you?" Gren chuckled to his last question. He knew, or at least had a strong feeling, of what the awnser was.

She smirked. "No, I'll take anything over spending Sunday afternoon with the Princess. And I wanted to see if you'd prove me wrong."

Gren looked at Clair. Prove her wrong? "Then I'll make sure to do this right." Gren had no idea what Clair meant, though if he had to guess she thought less of him. Oh well. He could at least give himself a fighting chance to impress her, considering all he did to make a dork out of himself.

She gave him a quiet chuckle. Yeah, he definitely proved me wrong. He's more than a meathead, that's for sure. Still desperate, though. Oh well. At least he means well. Could be worse.

"Maybe you are clueless after all," she said. She gave him a tiny smile. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

A voice came over the shuttle intercom. "Now arriving at: Vale. Please watch your step as you depart the shuttle, and have a nice day."

"Guess it's our stop," she said, straightening out her skirt. "Better late than never.

[Lugubrious]

Abel Fulgurate

The remainder of the evening was spent in a general atmosphere of fun and relaxation. After nearly bungling an attempt at an impressive kick-strike, somewhat along the lines of what Skyra attempted, Abel toned it down a notch. Though by no means a chatty person, he managed to hold several conversations with Krysanthe, with or without other participants. He also attempted the arcade's fighting games, doing decently well with a rapier-wielding girl in white before a more seasoned player beat him thoroughly enough to rob him of any motivation to keep playing. Not feeling particularly hungry for fast food, Abel got a hotdog and water at Gr8 Eats but little else. When the bowling game, and a salty runback, were completed by the whole group, they found the sun to be skimming the horizon and promptly high-tailed it back to Beacon. The other intriguing teens present remained behind, concerned with...other business.

-=-=-

Bzt. Bzt. Bzt. WAKE UP!.

Abel groaned, stirring himself to wakefulness. He must have been off his rocker at the time to make his alarm his own voice shouting 'wake up.' Fumbling for the clock, he shut it off and rose, dazedly, to his feet. Leaving his usual blue jacket behind, he headed into the bathroom to swap out his shorts for pants and brush his teeth. Still blurry-eyed, he shambled to the dorm center and downed a mug of coffee. It was time, he thought as he stared at some coffee grains in the cup's bottom, to begin the second week of Beacon life. He marveled that it had only been one week; it felt like he'd been here for...months, maybe.

Ignoring those around him except to make sure he didn't bump into anyone, he made himself oatmeal and ate in silence. Last night's sleep had been interrupted at an early hour by the team ferret, demanding to be let out to relieve himself, in rudimentary terms of course. No excuse would do, however, when another Combat Class loomed. Mondays were sparring days, and Abel hoped that this time, he'd be able to pull off a win.

-=-=-

By now a little more knowledgeable about their timetables, the students had arrived at a time to Ms. Goodwitch's liking. Having run the kids through their paces for a week, Goodwitch expected to be impressed, and she said as much to the group as a whole. In particular, she demanded self-control. There would be no explosive tantrums, she said in a cold voice, no debilitating injuries, and no indignant outbursts. “As with every competition, in here there must be a winner and a loser. Don't let any foolish notions of pride or superiority goad you into making the wrong decisions. If all it took to win was getting back up and trying again after taking a fall, we'd all be winners, wouldn't we? Know your limits, and just as importantly, know your aura. By now I shouldn't have to remind you, but I'll be ending the match when aura drops into the red zone. These should be good, clean fights. Listen up: here are the matchups.” She sent out a group text to all scrolls.

Emerald Felicia v Daniel Day Dalton
Benjamin Lloyd v Lorena Negasi
Oswald Connoly v Jack Orpheus
Amaranth Desire v Diamond Frost
Ebon Umbranox v Vega Venetia
Lucas Schwarze v Kuhaku Shiro
Bianca Nuit v Sepia Russet
Mokuren Sabella v Skyra Dawn
Robert Fallson v Krysanthe
Gratia Mindaro v Cian Kuze
Cobalt Chideta v Gren Orchid
Abel Fulgurate v Sangue Naga
Napoli Fiordilatte v Sapphire Rode

“Find your partner, have a quick word if you must, and prepare for battle.”

-=-=-

A voice came through the loudspeakers into the warehouse. The building itself was drab, but full of possibility. There were crates, various equipments, a few loading vehicles, and vertical supports, all just lying in wait to make a fight interesting. For Amber, Violet, and Akashi knew that they'd be fighting. They didn't even really need the voice over the speakers, the familiar tone without a known face to assign it to, to tell them. This morning's exercise would be to hone their skill in a three-way spar. “Try not to hurt one another too badly,” the voice droned after it had finished telling them exactly what they'd expected to hear. “We can't use you if you're in a hospital bed. If one of you breaks another's aura, withdraw speedily. This is a test of your ability to fight multiple opponents. Begin when ready...I'll be watching.”

[Lucius Cypher]

Gren Orchid

Gren sat at his computer in sleep mode, as he's wont to do. After some remodeling with the team, he traded out his bed to get his big ol computer terminal into the dorm. Despite looking like something straight from a old sci-fi movie, his computer benefited from it's big rig by having some insane processing speed, it's abilities only hampered by relying on Beacon's network. Though for the most part Gren uses it for school work, occasionally making 3d models of his weapons and schematics, and playing video games. Mostly video games.

As Abel's alarm buzzed to life Gren opened his eyes. It was early morning, and once again the first order of business would be to freshen up and get something to eat. At this point Gren has learned to simply cook on request: it saves him and his team the hassle of organizing breakfast if they simply ask him to do it instead of assuming that they'd eat everything he cook. Gren looked around for his clothing and armor, noting that despite his own penchant for things like cooking and taking care of others, it was a mess around his computer. His clothing laid in random piles around his overflowing laundry basket, parts to The God Eater were scattered on a workbench, and even his armor wasn't properly hung on his armor rack, but sort of haphazardly hanging onto it. He had no time to clean it up right now, but he made it a mental note that maybe he should organize his things when class was over.

Gren left to the bathroom for the usual morning ritual of cleansing his body of impurities and filth before returning to the dorm to gear up. Despite having a proper school uniform, Gren elected to continue to wear his armor despite it. At most he wears the uniform underneath, but given that his armor was full body, this was redundant. The last thing he did before leaving his dorm was checking on his cybernetic hands. He hasn't really told his team about his condition, and goes to certain lengths to keep it that way. Even while he was checking out his hand, all he really did was pug an electrical cord into his forearm. He was getting a read on his arms and making sure they were up to snuff; he chose to use a more dexterous model instead of his usual crushing hands. These hands were good for dealing with small devices, which were instrumental when he was working on The God Eater. he shortly debated with himself if he wanted to switch out hands however. Either return to the crushing grip or maybe the striking fists. He was going to go fight today. However he chose not to. For one, the process of replacing hands was obvious and somewhat loud. It might wake up Shiro and Sapphire, and then they'll start asking questions, and then things would just get awkward. That and he wanted to see how he could use "dexterity" in combat.

Once he was properly geared up and ready Gren went to go find Miss Goodwitch. Abel wasn't here so Gren was certain the guardian had went off ahead of them. It was a fairly short trip to the arena even without his semblance, and there were still people coming into the halls. Gylda had already made her announcements and the combat pairings were up for everyone to see. "Cobalt Chideta." Gren has heard of him. He doesn't know him beyond his name, but the reason Gren knew him was because of his weapon.

Like Gren, Cobalt also used a gatling blade, known as the The 27 Smasher. As far as Gren knew The God Eater had a few more fucntions, but regardless their weapons were like twins. A smile grew on the orc's face. "What a day... What a lovely day!" Gren left the room for a moment. He needed to go find some cowslip.

[Flood]

Cobalt rubbed his eyes in an attempt to prevent himself from crying. "Sorry. I'm fine." He looked at everyone and their reactions to him. They all seemed relatively forgiving. "It's fine, no cookies are needed." Cobalt took off his weapon and laid it near his bed. "Sorry again." He was calming down somewhat and he decided to introduce himself. "I'm Cobalt. It's nice to meet you all. Sorry I interrupted your sleep." He then had a sudden realization. "Wait why is she drunk? We're underage." He asked before shaking his head. "Nevermind actually, I'm just going to go to bed. Once more, sorry for the scare and we'll talk about this in the morning I guess." Cobalt shrugged and got in his bed with a surprising grace for a man his size. He laid awake and stared at the ceiling for a while before just getting out a book and reading.

The next morning he showed up at class and looked at his scroll. He saw he was paired up against a dude named Gren. He subconsciously touched the 27 Smasher and frowned. He had heard that Gren had a weapon just like his. But better. He crossed his arms and began thinking. Maybe Gren would be a pushover. 'Yeah right. He's a student of Beacon.' He chuckled and looked at the ceiling. "Now what?"

[HereComesTheSnow]

Luke Schwarz -- Pre-fight Prep

Kuhaku Shiro, huh?

Haven't met him yet. Looks like a Tiger Faunus or something, so he ought to stick out...

There was a decent chance he could say the same about Luke as well, given that he himself had a fairly distinct appearance. Speaking of which, he needed to do something real quick if they were about to spar.

The hoodie went up, his arms and head came in, and he yanked it off of his body unceremoniously, holding it in his hand until he found both partner and arena, at which point he'd toss it to the side. This was combat, and with his heavily fistic and movement-oriented style, he didn't need to overheat or dehydrate himself under unnecessary insulation.

The T-shirt would do just fine.

Raising and waving his arm, Luke made his position clear as he scanned the students for his partner.

[Guess Who]

Robert Fallson - Combat Class

"Not good. Not good. Not good. Not... good. Krysanthe? Krysanthe?! Why'd it have to be Krysanthe? C-can I do it? Can I actually bring myself to do it? Can I bring myself to do the unthinkable? Can I... hit a girl?" Robert said as he stared in horror at his scroll. His elbows rested on his desk as hands clutched his hair. "Oh man, I'm going to have to if I want to win. Maybe... Maybe I should go talk to her? Maybe she's, like, really mean or something. Then maybe I won't feel so bad when I hit her," The red-haired teen said as he rose from his seat and made his way to Krysanthe.

"Hi there, it's me, Robert. We met at Drury Lanes but we didn't really talk. It looks like we'll be fighting each other today," he said with an outstretched hand toward the blond. His nervousness for the upcoming duel was completely hidden behind a polite smile as he waited to see the girl's reaction to his hand shake.

[harinezumikouken]

Kuhaku Shiro

Bzt. Bzt. BZT!

Gasping as he woke with a start, Shiro sat straight up as someone's alarm shook him out of the realm of Dreams and violently threw him back into the waking world. Silvery-white hair a disheveled mess, he slowly blinked as he yawned and stretched. Joints popping and cracking as he did so. Rubbing the 'sleepies' out of his eyes, Shiro sniffed as he rolled over the side of his bed. Spilling/falling off of the top bunk, he abruptly face-planted on the floor below. Laying there for a few silent moments, Shiro groaned pathetically. What a way to wake up. Scoot woke up from the sound of the crashing and slowly approached Shiro's still body. Tilting his head, the ferret sniffed at Shiro.

"Morning!"
Scoot greeted his tiger friend. He was fast learning new words to use each day.
Shiro only groaned again in response. What a lovely way to start his morning.

---

After going through his morning routine and getting a big breakfast from Beacon's cafeteria, Shiro sat amongst the other students for Monday morning's combat class with Scoot sitting on his usual perch which happened to be Shiro's shoulders. As Ms. Goodwitch sent out a mass notification to all attending the class, Shiro only looked around with a distraught expression. He seriously needed to get a replacement for his Scroll, he just always forgot to remind Gren to get him one. Tapping on one of the shoulders of a student sitting next to him, he asked if he could possibly see who it was he was going up against. Thankfully, the student obliged and tilted the screen of their Scroll so that Shiro could see.

"Lucas Schwarze, huh?"
Tapping at his chin, he scoured his memory to see if he knew anyone by that name. Needless to say, nothing came to mind.
"Can't say I know him. Sigh. If I had my Scroll I may have at least someknowledge of who he is. Damn it, why'd I have to go and break my Scroll!?"
Shiro constantly beat himself up for having shattered the precious device during his first mission. Ah, well. Gold eyes scanning the crowd of Beacon Huntsman-to-be, he saw someone that matched the profile picture he saw on the adjacent student's Scroll standing and waving. Target sighted, the Tiger Faunus mentally steeled himself.

[Eklispe]

Krysthane: Combat Class

Krysthane nodded, "Yeah I remember seeing you there. Hope you didn't see my horrendous bowling." she said jokingly as she shook his hand. The red-head looked more like he was hoping for a friendly conversation then looking forward to the training session. "I guess you'll be my partner today, this is honestly my first combat class. So from what I've gathered we just beat each other up until our Aura is low and learn how to not suck right?" Krysthane inquired with a friendly smile and a slight head tilt as she awaited his response. So far he seemed nice so this shouldn't be too bad, with any luck they would both learn something from it.

[Crimmy]

Gratia Mindaro - Combat Class

Cian Kuze.

It was an unfamiliar name to Gratia. She knew nothing of this other student's capabilities, nor their appearance. It was her first combat class, and she had already been assigned to fight somebody who was, to her, a literal unknown. That was expected. No matter how the matchups had been decided, it had been statistically more likely for such to occur, for was only familiar with three of the twenty-five possible opponents she could have fought. Beacon and its students, after all, were completely new to her.

As such, she was fortunate to have received a network-affiliated Scroll from the headmaster upon arrival.

Closing the message that the instructor had sent them, the Mistralese Huntress idly swiped her fingers across the screen of the device, flicking her way to the student profiles. It was ordered alphabetically by surname, it seemed. A pale finger moved the scroll bar down, allowing her to reach the section on "K". Cian Kuze; a mousy-looking girl with flowing locks of jet-black hair and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. So this was her opponent then.

She tapped on the small portrait of her opponent for greater detail. It was not a particularly detailed profile, but it fulfilled Gratia's questions satisfactorily. A support-type then. Generalist too, if the highly-variable weapon meant anything. Ranged capabilities ... focus on aura was a powerful defensive shield ... she took note of those details. On a team with the Luke Schwarz boy she had met only yesterday as well ... interesting but utterly useless for her to know.

Now how would she deal with this girl?

Gratia closed the application, turning off the Scroll and dropping it into her bag. She allowed her eyes to scan the seats for her opponent ... there - a few rows down from her.

She rose to her feet, walking down the steps to where her opponent seemed to be sitting. From a closer perspective, it seemed that her original impressions of the other girl were relatively accurate. There was a brightness ... and an undercurrent of shyness? And the hair seemed to have been cut as well. The data had yet to be updated, it seemed.

Though the young Huntress didn't particularly care either way.

"Cian Kuze," she said, voice strong and toneless as she sat down next to her opponent. "I will be fighting you today."

[Guess Who]

Robert Fallson - Combat Class

Robert couldn't help but give a light chuckle at Krysanthe's question, before nodding to tell her how right she was. "Yeah, basically. I warn you though, last guy I fought was big ol' Abel over there. You can probably guess how that went down," he said while striking the most heroic pose he could think of. After standing there like a dork for a few seconds, he couldn't help but get the sudden feeling that his opponent might need some clarification. "It was me if you couldn't tell. Truth be told, I was surprised by the outcome as well, but I guess that means I'm a lot more powerful than I look. Especially to myself." Feeling like he had gathered what information he could without giving away too much about his own strengths and weaknesses, he turned to look back at his seat before looking back at Krysanthe. "Well, I think I'm going to return to my seat now. See you when the match starts."

The red-haired student slumped into his seat, hopelessness clearly plastered across his face. "Great, well she seemed nice. I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can hit her. My best chance at winning this is to probably just hope I can avoid getting knocked into the red," letting out a defeated sigh, Robert continued his pessimistic train of thought, "This is going to suck."

[Suku]

@Crimmy
Sigh combat class Cian thought to herself as she waited for her opponent to arrive. It was better after all to allow them to find her rather than both to look for each other and get lost in the confusion. Still she supposed this was how it was going to be though she really despised combat classes as a range and support type fighter she was often at a disadvantage to those that fought close range. Seeing as how if they got close it was pretty much over unless she managed to get enough distance between them again. She did have the idea for modding her weapon to give her dual pistols to act as close range and armor piercing though that was a long ways off from happening. Hearing Gratia arrive she spoke up "So if you are to be my opponent than shall we dance?" She asked it was best to get started soon she supposed and get it out of the way.

[Crimmy]

Gratia Mindaro - Combat Class

She would not have described a fight as a dance. It was not a particularly relevant comparison to her. Still, the Mistralese Huntress understood the intention and wishes conveyed. Get it done. Get it out of the way. Establish for herself a solid foundation for her reputation here at Beacon Academy. Her fists tightened within the pockets of her coat. She was ... ready for this. The undercurrent of excitement flowed through her veins, but she clamped down on it. Not now. Later. She would embrace it later.

"Very well," she replied, giving Cian a slight nod.

They would begin now.

Quietly, she relished in the opportunity.

It was ... cathartic.

[Eklispe]

Spar: Krysthane VS Robert

Krysthane popped her knuckles out of habit and swung her body around a bit to get limber. This should be interesting. "Okay," she said to Robert, "Ready, set, go!" As she said the last word, she activated her boots, sending a powerful burst of water from the heel that covered the bottoms of her feet, allowing her to slide across the floor with nearly no friction. She looked like she was surfing across the ground at this point, with her left foot forward and her back leg stabilizing her. As soon as she got close enough to Robert, not taking long since it was a mere ten feet or so, she would lash out with her right leg, hopefully slamming into the leftside of Robert's torso.

Not knowing much about Krysthane, Robert was more than a little confused by the jets of water thatcame from her boots. "What's that supposed to do?" he thought out loud. As she suddenly began to slide towards him, almost faster than he could react, he raised his left arm to hopefully take the brunt of the force, before trying to back away. "Ah, well that explains it." Raising his fists in a defensive posture, he prepared for her next set of strikes.

Krysthane grinned, always act never react. So basically she was winning. As she saw Robert had no intention of dodging she turned off her water jets as she arrived in melee range. Seeing that he also had opted for a defensive position, she decided that she would have to attack really hard, really fast. So she spun around, attacking him with the same leg from the other side putting her back to him. When he no doubt blocked that as well she would pivot nearly doing a backflip as she swung her right leg at Robert's head.

"Alright, here comes the first kick," Robert whispered to himself as he tried to predict his opponent's movements. "And the next one will be... Whoop!" he shouted as he stepped back from her overhead kick, just barely escaping a heel to the head. Robert couldn't help but realize that Krysthane seemed to rely on melee, especially on kicking. All he would need is some distance and he'd have her at a complete disadvantage. Could he bring himself to shoot her though? Of course not, he couldn't bring himself to hit a girl, so how would firing bullets at her make him feel better. Robert would have to continue his strategy of blocking and avoiding. "How long is that frickin' timer?"

Krysthane frowned, weren't they supposed to be fighting each other? She would have to break through his guard if she really wanted to make something happen. Since she had only used kicks at this point, that should be all he expected. She dashed forward again, swinging her right leg in a sweep that would barely nick Robert's head if he didn't move. Of course, he would duck under neath it. Which put his face at the perfect level for the punch she was using with the spining momentum from her kick. In addition, she concentrated, and for a half-second before and after her punch, gravity would be halved. Even if he managed to block the attack, it would still send him flying.

"Here she comes again," Robert said to himself before ducking underneath her leg. "At least she's predictabl-" A sudden punch to the face caught Robert completely off-guard. With the combination of the strength of the punch and Krysthane's semblance, he was sent flying across the room, landing roughly on the hard floor. The red-head lied there a few moments before letting out a raspy, "Oww." Finally rising off the floor, he massaged his injured jaw before telling Krysthane, "That hurt."

"Um I assumed so. Did I do something wrong?" Krysthane inquired suddenly unsure of herself. He had affirmed her guess of what they were supposed to do, did she accidently do something wrong?

Robert shook his head, "No, just pointing out the obvious I guess. Now, what else you got?" He stood at the same defensive pose as earlier, still not ready to fight back against the girl that was now clearly beating his ass.

Krysthane shrugged unsure of what his strategy was. Then it came to her. He was holding back because she was a girl. Thats why he wasn't doing anything. She growled, if he thought she wasn't worth fighting because she was a girl he was in for the mistake of his life. "Alright then," she muttered, "Lets fight." She once again turned on her jets, surfing forward and sliding into melee range, throwing an intentionally short left kick again. It would miss him by about an inch. Of course she would stop midway with her foot pointed directly at his face and let out a percussive blast of water. After that he would be either blinded or blown back, both of which led to her next moves. If he was blinded, she would do the equivilant of an uppercut with her boot. If he was blown back from the force of it, she would jet forward again and jump into the air, slamming into his body with both her feet, most likely sending him flying.

Robert raised both his arms to cover his face as Krysthane's foot flew toward his face. He clenched his jaw, expecting a hard impact. When he didn't feel anything, he moved his arms slightly, just to see between them so he could know what stopped her. Only to bet met with a cold blast of water to the face. The force of the spray knocked him off his feet and onto his back again, but his visor protected him from being momentarily blinded. Something he was quite thankful for as he saw the blond quickly falling towards him, feet-first. Just barely rolling out of the way, Robert could hear her impact with the ground behind him.

Quickly getting to his feet, he realized that his plan was quickly falling apart. "Okay, new plan!" Robert shouted as he ran towards the nearest wall. If he couldn't bring himself to hit her, maybe he could indirectly get her to hurt herself. Krysthane's next attack will most likely involving charging with her water boot-things again, so if he timed this right, he could get her to smash into the wall behind him. It was worth a shot at least.

Krysthane was furious now. He wouldn't stop runnning. Sure it would be excusable if at least he was trying to attack her back, but this was utter nonsense. She surfed towards him yet again, at least she was wittling away at him, he shouldn't be able to keep this up forever. She repeated her kick from before lashing out with her left foot, this time it would slam soildy into Robert's torso if he didn't move out of the way or block it. She didn't remove the water from the bottom of her boots however, this way if he dodged it she could chase him quickly before he had a time to get back into a defensive stance.

"Wait for it," Robert whispered to himself as Krysthane began to surf towards him. "Wait for it," he said again as she got closer. "Wait for it," he said one last time as she began to lift her leg. "Now!" he shouted as he tried to step out of the way of his opponent's incoming assault. "Waugh!" he shouted as he tumbled to the floor after stepping on one of his loose shoe laces. Falling face first, Robert's nose broke most of the fall, unfortunately. He had to roll away again while clutching the injured protuberance that housed his nostrils. His aura had absorbed most of the force and damage, but the jarring of the impact remained. "Darn it, darn it. Ow, ow. Why does this always happen?" he said before looking back at Krysthane, doubtful that his plan actually worked but still hopeful.

Krysthane's foot whisked over Robert's head as she nearly slid into the wall, until she activated that boot's water jets, sending her to surf directly to the side, barely avoiding contact. She quickly found Robert on the ground, holding his nose, looking rather hurt. Krysthane was going to charge after him immediatly, but she couldn't bring herself to attack him like that. She skidded to a stop and looked at him quizzically. He obviously wasn't an idiot since he had tried that wall trick, maybe he just really really didn't want to fight a girl. "You know, usually a fight is between two people. You can't really think that I'm so weak that I can't handle myself in a fight can you?" she asked him confused by his behaviour.

Robert was a bit embarrased as he rose from the floor, knowing that the fight had now been put on hold thanks to him. "Uh, it's not that, I'm sure you are a capable fighter, it's just that, y'know... I was just always taught not to hit a girl so I'm just... uncomfortable with it," he said, struggling to find the words to explain it. "It just feels wrong." He let out a dissapointed sigh before continuing. "Unfortunately, I was also always taught to never quit. Never surrender, never give up. So I'm a bit conflicted here."

Krysthane hmmed thoughtfully. "I suppose that does put you in a bit of quandry. I don't much feel like fighting someone who won't fight back, we have punching bags for that, and they're a lot easier to hit. I suppose we could call it quits for now, after all we both should've learned something by now right?" she asked grinning at him cheerfully. No one said it had to be a deathmatch after all, calling it quits was perfectly fine.

Robert liked the sound of Krysthane's idea, at first. Then he remembered what happened last time two opponents tried to quit their matches. "You sure you want Ms. Goodwitch to give you an F on the assignment? I don't know about you, but I'm trying to keep my grade up."

Krsythane sighed, he had a point. Getting an F certainly would be a problem. "I guess that leaves us with little choice," she said ruefully. "On guard then." Krsythane considered, she could just keep fighting like normal, but that wouldn't seem quite right. Perhaps she should try some more extravagant tricks simply to see if they worked. Well the one trick she had wanted to try out, whether or not she had the sense of balance for it was yet to be seen. "Set go." she called out and began.

Krysthane began running towards Robert boosting water jets to give her more speed elongating her steps. She gave one final burst and landed a single water coated foot. Krysthane kept going forward because of her motion and stuck out her other leg, shooting water of that boot turning her into a whirling top of legs and water. Theoretically if he tried to dodge she could simply straighten out her leg and fire another jet of water sending him towards the direction he moved in. Of course, given she was spinning at incredible speeds, she wasn't sure if her reaction speed was good enough for this to work, and obviously it was very unlikely anyone would want to get hit between the blinding water and flailing limbs. Though the move wouldn't actully do that much damage, it was more for a gaurenteed hit if she pulled it off.

"Ah, what the heck?" Robert said as Krysthane began her spinning top move. There was no way he could predict what way she was going now, and with all that water and flailing, he couldn't tell where her leg was to avoid. Dodging was out of the question. "Ohh, this is going to hurt," he said as he did his best to hide his face and chest behind his arms. Robert felt the impact of Krysthane's foot against his ribs and almost got knocked to the ground again. He was a lot quicker than his opponent expected though as he kept her leg tucked underneath his arm. "Got you," he said with a very obvious hint of pain in his voice.

Krysthane paused for a moment, well that was the thing that was not supposed to happen. Obviously she hadn't thought this move out far enough. Though luckily her quick thinking mind provided her with a solution. He was holding her leg which gave her something to move off. She leaned forward and twisted her body, kicking off her back leg, bringing it in a savage kick aimed at Robert's temple. Even if he dropped her leg nearly instantly, then it wouldn't matter because she had the intial force she needed to start the kick and he couldn't dodge without releasing her leg, even then it would probably be iffy.

As soon as Krysthane lifted her leg off the ground to begin her spin attack, Robert lost his balance and fell forward. Without her other leg acting as a support, he didn't have a good enough grip to hold all of his opponent's weight. It still didn't stop her kick from connecting with his head of course, he was nowhere near lucky to avoid that. "Urgh, not in front of Priscialla," he said as he landed on top of Krysthane. As quickly as he could though, he tried to get off, profusely apologizing as he did so. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry." Checking his aura levels, Robert saw that he had already reached yellow and was closing in on red. Even if he could check Krysthane's, there would be no point. No way would his 160 pound frame be able to do any damage from that embarrasing fall, and that was the closest thing to a successful attack he done the entire match. "Can't that timer move any faster?" he asked rhetorically as he stared at the clock, waiting for Ms. Goodwitch to just call the match and end it.

Krysthane wasn't expecting her opponent to fall to the ground. Things seemed to not like going according to plan this match. She spun her legs and flipped back onto her feet in one impressively smooth movement that she totally hadn't spent months practicing. She was flushing a pleasent shade of pink and was rather uncomfortable. This fight was a flop, the whole thing. At least she had managed to learn a thing or two so it wasn't entirely pointless. Krysthane also wished the timer would move a little faster as well, she had no desire to keep fighting.

Well she could always do silly moves that had no chance of hitting. Thinking of something along those lines, she recalled what she had done to the stuffed ursa at the fair, that should be flamboyant enough to look like she was trying, yet remain ineffective. She took a deep breath and leapt into the air boosting herself with her water jets. As she rose into the air above Robert she swung herself forward front flipping over and over again ending with her heel slamming down where Robert would be if he didn't move. Because obviously he would move. Then she had the terrible thought that he might slip again, considering the water all over the area now and his apparant clumsiness this attack might actully hit.

Krysthane's worries were well placed. As she flew into the air, Robert tried to run, only to instead begin sprinting in place like a ridiculous cartoon character, and fall on the ground. All this running and dodging as well as all the water weighing his drenched clothes down had taken its tole on Robert as he struggled to move out of the way.

Krysthane panicked as she saw Robert fall to the ground unable to dodge and she was moving too fast to stop unable to avoid hitting the prone boy. She mentally flinched away as she saw her boots came down in a crushing blow towards Robert's midesction.

And then everything stopped. Boy, girl, and, and even water floated, suspended in midair.

The cool, less than cordial voice of Ms. Goodwitch emanated from the spectator area. "I thought I specifically said to pay attention to aura levels." She pointed her crop at the two giant screens on the opposite side of the arena, where both were displayed. Robert's, due to injuries self-inflicted or not, was in the red. "A somewhat disappointing match, Robert. There are better and less masochistic ways to cozy up to the ladies than not attacking when your assignment is to attack. Still, since one of you at least tried, you'll both receive passing grades. Next!"

[HereComesTheSnow]

Luke vs. Shiro

As Shiro's time to do battle came, the silvery-haired tiger-boy stood and squatted down before launching himself from his spot and into the arena. Flipping in mid-air and landing in a four-point position, Shiro stood and straightened up as he waited on his opponent. Scoot still sitting on his shoulder even after his friend's flamboyant enterance, Shiro remembered that he should probably have his little buddy sit safely on the sidelines. Smiling and turning his head toward the rodent, "You should sit this one out, Scoot. Don't want you to get caught up and get hurt or something." he said. Kneeling down, he reached out with an arm to give his friend an easier path to climb off of.

Scoot looked at him and tilted his head, not quite understanding what was going to happen. But, he understood enough to realize Shiro's concern for him. Darting down Shiro's gloved arm, the ferret stopped as he turned 'round to look up at the Faunus boy.

"Fun?" The ferret asked, mimicing the same curious habit of tilting his head inquisitively as his taller Faunus companion.
Shiro grinned and nodded once.
"Yeah, it'll be fun alright. Don't worry, buddy. I'll be okay. Just sit back and enjoy the show." Shiro reassured him.
Scoot looked around before shooting off. Leaving the arena to observe atop the border that circled the arena.

Standing once more, Shiro righted himself as he resumed waiting for his sparring partner. This time around, he wasn't as nervous as to who he was going up against. A little more comfortable now that he had been at Beacon for a short while. Still, it was not to say he wasn't curious. There were at least some other students who he came to know and came to familiarize himself with their fighting style and weapons. But, from the brief moment he gleaned over Mr. Schwarze's information, he didn't seem to really carry any visible equipment or weaponry. Most information on other students were concealed for privacy concerns, regardless. So, he couldn't gain some unfair advantage there by meta-gaming. For Shiro, it was a different matter. He carried a massive blade and protective shield with him so there was no hiding that fact. Save for his teammates and maybe a few others, his Semblance's ability was kept decently under wraps. He couldn't really recall having used it the first time around, but even still, he had to be careful with revealing his hand too soon. Reserving the usage of his Semblance only for when things got too serious.

Clenching and balling his hands into fists, Shiro breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly to further mentally prepare himself for what was to come. It could be a quick and decisive battle. It could be a long and drawn out affair. Honestly, there was no telling what could happen, but he would be ready. At least, as best as he could be. The gold within his eyes burned away to reveal their true and glowing icy-blue color underneath. Black stripes slowly faded into existence, streaking through his hair. Marking his cheeks, his ears, the upper-part of his arms, and his tail as he assumed his 'combat-ready' posture. He hoped this 'Luke' character was a nice fellow. Maybe after their sparring match, they could be friends.

He...

He just flipped in here, didn't he?

Luke gave it all he had to not gawk at his opponent's flashy entrance, instead managing what seemed to be a miffed grimace. Seriously, if a pair of White Fang Members with mastery over both Fire and Illusions in his first week weren't enough, now he was sparring people that pulled acrobatics for kicks that would make non-auric Olympic Gymnasts cry?

Where's my Darkwood Grain Ring?!

Shaking his indignation with fate off with a sigh, he walked over to their chosen arena, tossing his hoodie aside and rolling out his neck a few times. Taking the warmup period to, much like his opponent, study up, he noted with no small amount of dismay that this Shiro person had both sword and shield on his person.

He smirked, it being the kind of a man who could laugh at fate's creulties and, well, do little else about them.

"I'd be pushing my luck if I asked you not to use those, wouldn't I?"

Shiro blinked. Confused as to what his opponent was requesting.
"He wants to just fist fight? Is he...serious?" he frowned.

Same as he did to him, this 'Luke' gentleman was sizing him up. Either he wasn't impressed, or Luke didn't seem to like what he saw. Cocking an eyebrow and tilting his head, he gave Luke a dumbfounded look.

"You..want to just fist fight?" Shiro then quickly put up his gloved hands and shook them in a worried 'No, wait!' expression. "N-not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just a little odd, is all. But, if you feel that would be fair then that's fine by me." Reaching behind, Shiro unslung Kladenets and Perun. With a solid sounding thock he slammed the combined sword and shield into the ground of the arena. The heavy things staying where Shiro put them, unmoving.

Cracking his gloved knuckles, he walked towards the center of the arena. Reaching out, Shiro smiled as he presented his hand to shake. Blinking again, he withdrew his hand and looked at his gloved palm. "Oh, uh. I have to warn you. I'm not very good at hand-to-hand combat. Do you mind if I use my claws instead?" Flexing his fingers, black stubby claws stabbed outward from the tips of his gloves. Looking at them and back up at Luke, he grinned sheepishly.

"Wait, aren't I putting myself at a serious disadvantage? I don't even know what he has up his sleeve! I still can't see any weapons.." he critically thought to himself.

Now it was Luke's turn to blink.

That had certainly put him on the spot. While the weaponry being removed from the equation was nice, he still hadn't actually expected it to happen! Now he just felt dishonest! Snake-like! A charlatan!

He chuckled, somewhat nervously in his own right. "I hadn't expected you to actually say yes. And, uh..."

Claws would hurt. They would hurt so much...

But at the same time, my Semblance should let me deal with whatever wounds I get from them.

After all, they look short.

Ish.

"Sure," he replied, completing his deliberations on the request and working his watches off his wrists. "Fair enough. I only know the basics myself, mostly, but making you toss away that sword and shield's already stacking things in my favor enough."

Not meant offensively or anything.

Doubt anyone'd even take it that way.

Tossing the watches (and by extension drillfists) onto his hoodie, the black-haired teen strode to the center of the arena himself, shaking the taller Faunus's hand with a sportsman's smile.

"Let's have a good one."

Shiro's smile seemed to brighten even more when he took his hand and shook it, returning his own smile. "By the way, I'm Kuhaku Shiro. It's very nice to meet you. Let's have a good one indeed." Letting go of his hand, Shiro stopped and looked down at himself. He had forgotten about his two belts of volatile Dust shotshells. In a fist fight, he couldn't really see any use to them. It would be dangerous, even to use them in such close proximity. As he turned his back to his opponent and walked over to his sword and shield, he unclasped his ammunition belts and removed them from his waist. Longingly looking at Kladenets and Perun as he slowly draped the blue shotshells over the face of the shield.

Brow furrowing, Shiro dove deep within the confines of his mind. Searching for every bit of his intellect and focus. "In a real fight, I may become disarmed so it'd be good practice for that. But, then again...In a real fight I wouldn't just throw down my weapons at the request of my 'enemy', would I? What if he's just playing with me and manipulating me to his advantage? I still don't know anything about him but he knows enough about me." Biting his lip, he looked over his shoulder back at Luke nervously.

"I could just...use my gear anyways. But, what if it was an honest request? I-I don't want to seem like a dishonest person after I already gave my word."

Looking up at the ceiling worriedly, another thought hit him.

"Wait, aren't we supposed to be giving our all during these matches anyways? Is he just toying with me or...Agh!" What was he even doing anyways, fighting on someone else's terms? No, that wasn't going to happen. He knew nothing about his opponent and he was being far too nice to the guy. If he wanted to fist fight, they could always set up a sparring match later. If he agreed to Luke's terms, how would that look to his fellow peers? Sapphire already scrutinized everything he did or said and looked down on him like he was a child. But worse of all, what would Abel and Gren think? Their opinions of him meant the world. Not to mention there were always the ladies watching to consider.

Shaking his head, Shiro turned back around and reclasped his ammo belts back onto his waists. "Hey! Well, he didn't want to seem rude and indescisive. "Luke, was it?" Kicking up his sword and shield, he snatched them out of the air and ripped the sword from the shield. Brandishing his weapons with a flourish. "After classes, you and I could spar however you want then!" He paused, he had to pick his words carefully so as to not come off the wrong way. "Right now though, I want to see what you've got!"

Slamming his shield in front of him and crouching low to peer over the top edge, he readied his sword behind him. A low growl rumbling in his chest, his usually bright and happy expression twisted into one of intense focus and determination. "Ready yourself!"

Luke, who had been silent and under a pensive mask this whole time, formulating a preliminary "gameplan" so to speak, offered merely a wan smile, a sigh, and a nod. "Figured it wouldn't happen. Works for me, Shiro."

It just made things more of an uphill battle.

Retrieving his watches from his small pile of belongings to the side of the arena, he re-donned them on what was basically autopilot, eyes remaining steadfastly on the newly-serious tiger faunus across the ring from him. His mind raced, adjusting for the new factors in the matchup as best as he could.

Well, first things first: Avoid that sword at any and all costs.

If I need to hit it, make sure it's with the gauntlets. I don't need my semblance draining my aura from cuts I could have avoided.

On that note, lots of lateral movement's going to be key here. He may be agile, but if I can cut decent angles I'll find my shots. Pretty sure I'll want to focus on that shield side as much as I can. Even if it limits my offensive options, in that I need to work around it, it can't cover everything at once.

Not to mention, he'll have a heck of a time trying to hit me with that sword through it. I can play the turtling game too, and I'll use your shield to do it too.

Activating whatever author-unspecified method of switching modes on his wristwear, the digital and analog watches gave off small, muted flashes as they morphed into a silvery pair of fully-articulated gauntlets. With a deep, calming breath, Schwarz rose, and returned to his side of the arena, eyes still glued on Shiro's form.

Treat it like any other fight. If I stick and move, mix it up, and toss a few feints in there for him to bite on, holes in that defense have got to form. That way I can get inside on him and render those things obselete. He can't stab me if I'm in too close for him to swing. No big, Luke.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet in a slightly-staggered, right foot only-a-half-step-back stance, Schwarz raised his guard: Rear hand by the eyebrow, Lead hand out in front, ready to jab or parry.

Just Frankie Edgar this shit.

"Ready."

Ah, wait. He had nearly forgotten. Moving his shield aside, he stabbed the point of his sword into the ground. With his free sword hand, he peeled 5 of his blue Dust Shotshells off of his belt. Sliding them into the open chamber on the spine of his blade, he removed his sword from the ground as the slide on Kladenets automatically chambered and loaded the fed rounds. Before resuming his stance, Shiro courteously bowed his head at Luke. It was still an honorable duel, after all.

"Desperta ferro!" He shouted as he presented his shield in front of him once more. His voice bellowing and echoing throughout the arena. Slowly, Shiro advanced on Luke. But as he did so, he tried something a little different. Using the flat sides of his blade, he smacked the front of his shield with it. Creating a loud clattering, clanging racket as he slowly moved on his quarry.

Narrowing his eyes, Shiro couldn't help bit feel a little annoyed. "So he DID have weapons on him! Concealed as his watches, too! No wonder he said that the odds would be stacked in his favor. He's a pure fist-fighter!" Shiro complained, silently to himself. As his ice-blue eyes observed Luke's stance, he confirmed that his opponent knew more than he let on. +1 to Deception. He knew now not to completely trust this guy, but there could be more he had up his sleeve. Then again, Shiro had plenty of tricks in his bag. For now, Shiro continued 'making some noise' as he slowly and carefully advanced on the boy.

He would have to feel him out some more before getting an idea of how he fought and react accordingly.

Dust Shells?!

What on earth could those possibly do in that sword?!

Responding with a curt nod of his own, Schwarz began to circle in, dutifully sticking to the plan and moving to his right, in front of Shiro's shield. Closing the distance in what soon became a tense, spiralling dance, if Luke was fazed at all by Shiro's clanging, he made sure not to show it.

What was the purpose of that anyway? Was the tiger faunus trying to goad him into charging in? Maybe. It'd be a good way to run him straight into a stab if he just bullrushed, and this certainly would be neither the first nor last time taunting would result in the opponent on the recieving end getting flustered into a mistake.

Not that I was born yesterday! He thought indignantly. Stepping in for but a moment, he flashed a jab, a non-commital, entirely speedy jab, to Shiro's face over the top of his shield. Jabs like these didn't have power behind them, and weren't going to knock anyone over the age of six out.

But that wasn't the point in the first place. What those flicking, peppering strikes were was fast and on top of that, a foundation. Everything, and you will hear everyone say it, everything built off of the jab. Once he established it, he could open up with so many other things it wasn't even funny.

This was the first lesson he'd learned, in his in-and-out relationship with the world of martial arts. This was what separated those who understood these things from those who didn't. A wise man once wrote: "Punching is the brush stroke, but boxing is the art."

Anyone could stick their fist in someone's face real hard. But it wasn't anyone who understood the intracacies of how and why a boxer punches, moves, etc.

Despite being what some would call "The Basics", these were the most important things for a prospective pugilist to know.

Every building is supported by its foundations.

Not privy to sticking around, as soon as the jab reached the full point of extension, whether it hit Shiro or not, it flashed back to Luke's guard just as quickly as it had came, and he was back at square one: same distance, having stepped back from his step in, same direction of motion, same plan of action.

No combinations yet, just feeling things out and staying the hell away from that sword.

As Luke circled with him, Shiro couldn't help but be a little pleased. Smirking, it occured to him that Luke was careful and methodical. Just as he was. Luke was attempting to get around his shield and past his defenses. At least, that's what Shiro thought. When Luke set
in for a probing jab, Shiro simply took a step back. That one jab was enough for him, Shiro getting a feel for the general length of his range. He was a boxer after all, or looked the part at least. If there was one advantage other than being able to swap between attacking and defending, Shiro had range on him.

If Luke was any more similar to Shiro's own combat mindset, they would be feeling each other out for a while. Probing and proding as they each observed how the other would react. That took time, and time wasn't something they had in abundance. Maybe fortunately for Luke, Shiro was slightly impatient. Gather as much information he could in the first critical moments, and then move on it. Continuing to bashing his sword against his shield to a certain tempo and cadence, Shiro then changed his motion. Instead of moving to opposite directions, Shiro matches Luke's so that they both moved to either the left or right. Neither circling one another. Luke was fast. He was careful. He has short range. Did Shiro need any more than that? Question was, what to do next with that information? How would he handle aggression is what Shiro wanted to know now.

After all, you could hardly punch through a solid shield. If Shiro's guesses were correct, he might've figured what Luke would do after his next move. It was a gamble, and worth a shot. Swiftly moving his sword straight behind him, Shiro dug his feet in and exploded forward straight at Luke. [SHIELD CHARGE]

Sword's going back.

A swing?

Probab--

Bullrush!

Reacting quickly as Shiro exploded forward, Luke's stance staggered more--

Then shot him straight back, gathering crucial distance even as the faunus continued to eat it up after him, barely allowing the ahoge'd pugilist any gains in ground between them.

However, and thank whoever upstairs is in charge for Aura's stat boosts for this, it was indeed enough. Sticking his lead hand straight out as he landed, Luke adhered to the time-honored, and universal rule of defense in pretty much anything.

Some readers here may be familiar with it from our breakdown of the tussle with Mordred: "Getting off the line of attack".

Using the extended hand to stiff-arm the oncoming freight train that was the sword-and-board Swansonger, Luke's motion switched back to lateral, cutting a hard angle off to his right. Past the shield, and out of the way.

Close call, by any means. Even as Shiro's momentum carried him through an extra few feet, Luke felt there was no oppurtunity like the present to strike. The Tiger Faunus would now have to whirl to face him and would be greeted by a stiff 1-2-3: Jab-Cross-Hook, the first two to the head, the last digging to the body.

Shiro was surprised to see Luke take on his shield charge. Was he brave or stupid? Even Shiro failed to make that distinction from time to time. Nonetheless, he continued to pick up as much speed and momentum as he could as he forced Luke back. The more, the better. But he needed to see what Luke would do next. Surely he wouldn't just accept being pancaked against the side of the arena wall.

"Come on, come on...Do something..."
And there it was, it came. Briefly tanking his charge, Luke then reoriented himself away at a hard angle turn to move out of Shiro's direct path. Shiro couldn't believe his luck and had a difficult time concealing his wide, toothy grin.

Skidding as he brought his charge to a screeching halt, Shiro lifted his shield and punched its pointed tip straight down into the ground to act as his fulcrum as he quickly swung around. Readily bringing his sword with him as he sharply turned. Whirling around to face Luke, grin still on his face, he saw the student moving in to strike with his fists. But how would Luke's gauntlets compare to his own sword swing? Especially one assisted with a little Dust?

Twisting his grip slightly on his sword as he followed through with his swing, a faint click was heard as a hidden trigger in the guard of his blade revealed itself. Squeezing the trigger mid-course correction and mid-swing, the ports/vents that lined the false edge of his sword exploded with a bang! as blue flames erupted from them. Buffing what would be his normal sword swing with flaming increased power and speed. His swing aimed not at Luke, but at his arms themselves. He meant to quite literally disarm him. Shiro had more than his sword and shield but, a boxer's main and only weapon were their fists. A menacing gleam began to grow in his glowing blue eyes, he was quickly getting worked up and excited. The fight just barely beginning. He couldn't wait to expend his energy on this student.

If his counter attack failed, Shiro planned to take whatever hits connected and to continue to follow through with his swing hopefully uninterrupted. He would then replant himself using his sword as his new fulcrum as he stabbed it into the ground. Next removing his shield as he spun round to clip Luke on the back swing with the bladed edges of his shield.

What the fu--

Luke grit his teeth as the sword smashed down onto his jab, biting deep into his aura.

First blood. But, as with many things in combat, it wasn't so clean as to allow Shiro's escape unscathed. Part of the reason people threw combinations was because single strikes could be parried.

Second and Third crashed home even as Shiro carried himself through and planted the sword down for another strike, willing to take those two to land his one. Luke had no time to question the physics behind how the hell that had even worked-- Kuhaku was already swinging that shield through to try and bite into the side of his head. There was only time for action and reaction.

And this was where Shiro had made a crucial mistake. Luke Schwarz was not allowed to be so limited as to merely be a boxer. Not at this level.

Changing levels entirely, Luke's knees bent him low, under the strike, as he stepped his right leg forward and planted that knee to the floor. While Shiro was preoccupied with spinning, there was no way he could react in time. This was a simple nature of the technique being thrown: You either treat your opponent's back like a revolving door and keep striking--

Or you take them right the hell down.

Driving his head and shoulder into Shiro's hips from their side-on, mid-swing postion, Luke's hands scythed around and in onto the faunus's legs, yanking them into his chest and checking their ability to stay under his weigh as it was being driven forward by Luke's entire mass. Sliding his left leg across to the front, his drive forward began to curve towards the right, the sudden change in course serving as the final measure to remove Shiro's balance even as Luke practically lifted him off the ground, before unceremoniously dumping him back onto it.

Another double-leg takedown, landing him on top, all in under a second.

Immediately Luke went to work, keeping his weight on top of Shiro as he tried to obtain side control.

Shiro paid for his decisions. His first attack connected, which was ultimately the goal he was shooting for. But by being greedy in his want to connect a second hit on the backswing with his shield, he took a couple hits as expected. Luke's rapid punches didn't seem to carry too much power, but they were enough to serve as softening blows. Kneading a little air out of his lungs as they connected to his side and throwing off his shield swing.

He knew immediately that what was coming next was going to be nasty, feeling the edge of his shield slicing only at the empty air as Luke ducked underneath his attack. What came next was all a blur to him before he found himself crashing onto his side with the boy right on top of him. That move knocking the rest of the air out of him, rattling him as the side of his head bounced off of the ground.

Stars bursting in his vision, Shiro quickly sucked in some air to refill his lungs and recover. Attempting to move, he was reminded that Luke was pressing his body weight down on him preventing him from escaping. Try as he might, Shiro tried to roll back and forth. Squirming to escape the wrap-up. Snarling as he quickly became agitated, his mind rolled through the next following opinions. Though being caught off guard, he retained his hold on his sword and shield. But at this distance, there was little he could really do with them. Two other choices. One, a little crazier than the other so he reorganized its priority in his head.

Growling and snarling, Shiro thrashed about attempting to use his own body weight to throw Luke off. At the very least, attempt him from gaining complete control and smother the tiger-boy into the dirt. As he thrashed, every little chance he got he began to wildly throw sharp elbows aimed at Luke's head and face. When an elbow wasn't feasible, he tried to bash at him with whatever part of his shield he could and with the sharp spiked pommel of his sword. If he couldn't throw him off, he would beat him off. With both hands.

Disregarding his situation, he couldn't help but snicker to himself internally.
"Giggity."

It has been said that fighting is a game of inches. Of seconds. Of infinitesimal measurements, but all-important ones. Less than half an inch could be the difference between your opponent wasting his energy, and leaving himself open, or him catching you clean, and you waking up thiry seconds later staring into the lights.

So it stands to reason that the same ideas applied on the ground as well as on the feet. In those moments where Shiro, stunned, dazed, and thrashing mindlessly to try and escape Luke's top control, the pugilist made his moves. Sliding his knee under a swing with the sword and up to Shiro's shoulder,it's partner followed and planted itself by the hip as his left arm snaked under Shiro's neck.

Side control had been obtained, and in almost picture-perfect technique.

Now what to do from here? He could hang out, let Shiro tire himself by doing all that wild, fruitless bucking, he could pass to full mount, maybe he could try a--

THWACK

One of Shiro's elbows managed to collide with his forehead, albeit with only enough force to interrupt his train of thought given the immensely short distance between where it could rest and the ground.

Did he ju--

CLANK

"Oi!"

Now the flat of the shield smack into the back of his head, unable to fully deliver much force but enough to annoy, enough to hurt and maybe even bruise.

Cut that OUT!

Finally opening up from his previously conservative, grinding posture, Luke switched his left arm's position from under to on top of Shiro's neck--

Then allowed it to rise and fall back onto his face, with some impetus behind it. Still mostly in control, but definitely not letting the faunus's strikes go unanswered. For each blow Shiro managed to land, Luke force-fed him an elbow in return. He would have gone for a keylock on that far arm, but that shield would have made it all but impossible to get the necessary torque on the arm.

So, instead Luke held him down and they traded elbows of varying efficacy, but with one common outcome.

If this kept up, they would both be bloody messes.

Shiro panted as he laid there, momentarily pausing his wild thrash. Nothing. His weak love taps did barely anything to Luke. Each tap returned in kind. If it went on any further, it would be a pathetic end to the match. Maybe even a dreaded tie. Shiro gritted his teeth, he didn't want it to end so soon and so quickly. As he regained his breath and tried to calm himself down, he rerolled through the options. Luke was literally right on top of him, they could practically kiss they were so close. At this distance, his Ace would be devastating to Luke. But, at what cost? Shiro knew the repercussions of using his Semblance, and was always fearful to use it. Luke was dangerously skilled at close combat, more than Shiro gave him credit for.

It was honestly his own fault for thinking his reckless style of fighting could even compare to something like Luke's. But, therein lied his advantage. Shiro was nuts, and everyone knew it. He intended on showing Luke just how dangerous and psychotic he could be. With a free hand he grasped at the belts on his waist to clutch at a blue Dust Shotshell. Smirking, Shiro opened wide and sunk his fangs as deeply as he could into the closest part of Luke's flesh. All was fair in love and war, right?

Tossing the dust shotshell slightly away from the two of them as he chomped down on the boy. He raised his shield as far as he could and brought its edge down onto the volatile cartridge of dust. With an ear shattering and deafening BOOM! the shotshell exploded in a large swathe of blue flames that quickly enveloped them in its fiery embrace. Just as Shiro learned how bad it was to get close to Luke, Luke would learn just the same for Shiro.
Shiro was unskilled in manipulating his Aura and controlling Dust with it, hence his reliance on pre-manufactured ammunition. He could only hope Luke had the same level of skill and was unable to safely protect himself from the flames. In any case, the two of them would take a massive hit to their protective aura levels. Shiro would burn the two of them down to a crisp if Luke didn't break away from the tiger-boy, fully intent on immolating himself.

It was times like these that you had to feel for poor Lucas.

What happened to "don't get crazy, this is just a sparring match"? What happened to "no biting people, this is a sparring match"?

What was next?

Would someone disregard all sense of honor and aim below the belt?

"Uwaaaaaaah!!!"

All thoughts that would have gone through Schwarz's head, were he not currently, for the second time in as many battles, on fire. Instead, he literally tore himself (and recieving the complimentary gashes from Shiro's fangs on his arm) free from Shiro and rehearsed the three steps everyone who had ever lived in the modern era had been taught:

Stop!

Drop!

Roll!

Tumbling away from Shiro's form, forgotten almost entirely, Luke managed to snuff out most of the blue flames burning away at him, his aura naturally forcing out the rest and leaving him with only minor burns.

Say what you would about his wits, but he learned to be quick on the uptake after that incident on Friday with Cian.

Hope she's doing well.

No, can't worry about that.

Focus.

Rising to his feet with shaky breath, Luke grimaced as he found himself at something resembling square one with Shiro. Their Auras both had to be running thin... Should the match have already been called?

To tell the truth, he had no way of even telling any more.

Rolling away from Luke in the opposite direction, Shiro got to his feet. Blue flames still peppering his body, Shiro had a maniacal grin on his face. He was having fun. He was having so much fun, but he couldn't tell why. What was different from this match when compared to all his others? There was something about Luke that drove him to places he didn't know existed in his psyche. One thing was for sure, he couldn't stop. He couldn't get enough. He wanted more.

Spitting the bit of Luke's clothing caught in his teeth out and onto the ground. He let his Aura brush away the remaining ashes from his brazen move. Charred in places, gray ash streaking parts of his clothing and body, he could only imagine how he must've looked to his opponent. His excitement further boiled his blood as his black stripes seemed to burn a deeper and darker color, if it were even possible. No, he shouldn't be just standing around. Hungrily staring at Luke as if he were fresh meat to eat. Just as Luke took advantage of him for dilly-dallying, he had to keep going.

Spinning his sword in hand, he giggled as he slammed it into his shield. His weapons detecting his intention, the combined sword and shield began to click, clack, whir, and grind as metal segments rearranged and reassembled themselves. Internal mechanisms and gears rapidly transforming his sword and shield into...

A GIANT.

F*CKING.

AXE!

Grasping his weapon with both hands, he swung the massive behemoth above his head and spun it around once. Slamming the gargantuan head of the weapon into the ground, cracking it and kicking up bits of rock and rubble. Eyes still locked onto Luke, he peeled four rounds of Dust Shotshells off of his belt and ripped the slide located on the weapon's shaft back. Chamber opened, Shiro jammed the rounds in and racked the slide back into place after feeding his weapon. Shiro didn't need to know any more about Luke, he figured he had all the information he needed to crush his opponent at this point. Now was the time to act on what he knew.

Tensing his body as he flexed, Shiro forcefully emptied his lungs of as much air as he possibly could. Rearing his head back, he then deeply inhaled as he sucked in more air to refill his lungs to full capacity. With his lungs capped out on oxygen, Shiro opened his mouth as he threw his head back forward and let rip a thunderous roar to blast at Luke with. Making sure to only 'mark/tag' him as the receiver, to not adversely affect the bystanders observing in their seats around the arena.

"GRAAAHHH...!!!" His roar booming as he echoed throughout the arena.

Letting loose his tiger's roar, his Semblance activated in full force as Shiro felt a temporary surge in power, the opposite effect slamming Luke as he laid eyes on Shiro or heard his roar.

Hefting his Axe, Shiro charged straight at Luke until he was just within range. Taking a wide right-to-left horizontal swing at him, Shiro squeezed the hidden trigger within the guard mid-swing. Blue flames blasting from the Axe's head, the normally slow swings were given increased force and velocity. Not satisfied with a single swing, he shifted his weight to move in for second left-to-right horizontal swing, firing off another shotshell. Rearing the head of the axe behind him, he finished the three-hit combo with a straight downward vertical smash, his weapon firing off a third shotshell just as it was ejecting the previous spent shells.

It would have been one thing to say Luke was like a blade of grass in the wind, dancing between strikes with the type of fluidity and poise people thought you only saw in choreography.

It would have been another, entirely more realistic thing to say that no, instead he was more staggering and stumbling and barely getting out of the way of the blade itself. Shiro's semblance was no joke, and despite his rapidity of healing and recovery, Luke did not enjoy a lessening in effects.

It's a lot like getting rocked with a good punch, he noted, in one of those rare, untimely and unrelated moments of clarity.

Backpedaling out of the way of the first swing, his balance left him for a moment, leaving him stumbling back to land flat on his rear and, luckily, avoid the second. Dimly looking up, his eyes tried to refocus themselves on the tiger-boy standing tall above him...

And saw three, about to swing that Axe down onto his head.

Great. Shadow Clones.

Remember what we said about those moments of clarity being rare?

In a split second decision, Luke apparently decided that the Shiro on the left looked like the swellest guy of the bunch, and dove to the side just in time to escape being cleaved in twain. He didn't, however, escape the small blast that erupted from the head of the axe, which knocked the poor black-haired teen back another couple yards.

But they say every cloud has a silver lining. Much like the genius ideas and principles behind Cian's plan on friday, the extra impact "woke him up", as the scientific terms of an inexact science often sounded. The jolt to his senses actually helped him reset and regain clarity of thought and balance. He wasn't quite back to one hundred percent, but it was enough to, combined with his semblance's naturally insane recovery speed, get him coherent again.

Scrabbling to his feet, Schwarz ran a short distance away before turning to face Shiro again. He was still feeling that roar...

So I need to buy time.

A low chuckle rose in the boy's throat, as he let himself laugh from the heart at the absurdity of this chain of events.

"Some sparring match... What, is this your final form? Or do you have more surprises locked away for me, and all you need to do is absorb some androids?" he asked half-jokingly. "Did the explosion trigger your stage 2 cutscene, huh?"

More wry, self-deprecating chuckling.

"Should I worry about nanomachines, next?"

As he spoke, his mind began to clear, and a thought struck him. Nothing about this situation was reasonable. Nothing about it was realistic. Nothing about it was normal.

So why was he trying to fight like it was? There was a hard truth in there, one he had avoided ever since coming to Beacon as hard as he could.

He wasn't in the realm of normal anymore. Everyone was capable of amazing, superhuman feats. Things that would reasonably work against reasonably normal people?

Expecting them to work as perfectly on those that got into the school that bred real-life superheroes was...

Actually, pretty unreasonable.

With a newfound resolve, Luke clenched his gauntleted fists. They shone once more, this time brighter and prouder.

If reason wouldn't work...

A high-pitched keening filled the arena.

Then he'd be forced to kick it to the curb.

Taking a deep, resolve-filled breath, Luke raised his drills once more, now spinning at high speed and ready for action, and uttered a resolute challenge.

"COME ON!"

He should've been angry that his Axe swings failed to completely connect. He should've been angry that Luke was able to get away from him. He should've been angry that the effects of his Semblance didn't seem to be as debilitating on Luke. But, simply put. He didn't care.

Still grinning like a patient on his happy pills from an asylum for the criminally insane, Shiro turned to face Luke as he spoke. Laughing with Luke, he didn't quite understand what the boy was saying and offered no response of his own. Was he referencing some game, book, or show that he didn't know about? Whatever the case, apparently Shiro woke something in Luke just as the boy did for him. Resting the head of his great axe on the ground, Shiro locked the slide back on the shaft of his axe and replenished it with fresh cartridges. He would need every one for what he was going to do next. As Luke's gauntlets transformed into spiraling drills, Shiro seemed unfazed at his opponent's transformation. When Luke ushered his challenge, Shiro bit and immediately took the bait.

Tearing up the ground as the tiger-faunus did another straight-on charge at Luke, he hoped he could stop himself in time. His Semblance was starting to wear off and the high-pitched sound of Luke's spinning drills was getting to him. Pushing past the noise, Shiro let out a series of snarls as he barreled towards him.

Mid-sprint, his axe broke down as it reformed itself into its sword and shield mode. However, Shiro failed to retrieve the shield and left it behind as he abandoned it. Leaving only his sword in hand, Shiro cranked on the sword's grip and squeezed the hidden trigger. Instead of a short explosive blast, the spent Dust cartridge was burned off. Giving Shiro's sword a bit of rocket-fueled propulsion as Shiro quickly closed the distance between them. Shiro was right on top of him, fully prepared for a powerful swing.

But, very last second Shiro stopped short and failed to follow through with a sword swing. Winking at Luke, Shiro instead launched himself straight up into the air in a high jump. Now above Luke, Shiro reared his body back as he quickly cranked on the sword's grip in a specific combination before squeezing the trigger as gravity pulled him back towards the ground. As he squeezed the trigger, some mechanism within his blade repeatedly slammed as empty Dust shotshells were rapidly ejected from the blade's spine. Spent shells spewing from it though no immediate effect followed. Just before Shiro came into range with his sword, he swung at the empty air just above Luke's head missing entirely.

But, that was the point. A delayed reaction from his sword dumped all of the stored Dust within the shells that it threw up in a toxic cloud around Luke. Glowing blue eyes staring into Luke's own, he couldn't help but smirk.

Click. FWOOSH.

All at once, the dust was ignited in another massive inferno. The force of the following explosion swatting Shiro out of the air and back towards the opposite side of the arena.
[BRUSH FIRE]

Having been spectating curiously right up until roughly the wink, Luke had dove away from the cloud mere moments before the second explosion of the match had taken place.

Fortunately for him, he thought quickly enough that the action took a fair bit of heat and concussive force off of the blast.

Unfortunately for him, there was no two ways around it: that was a lot of Dust.

Tumbling end over end, Luke was forcefully smacked aside just as Shiro had been, his dizzying path backwards only stopped when he quite literally dug into the ground, his drills marring the arena's floor with deep, momentum-killing gouges.

Spitting out something red and tasting of iron, Luke ignored the wet, sticky feeling running down his face from some opened-up part of his scalp, skin no doubt scraped to hell from that wild ride. Instead, he stood tall and rushed for Shiro's form as it landed.

Call him uncreative, but he hadn't found the time nor the inspiration for any special attacks quite yet. Instead, he merely pumped what little Aura he had remaining into his legs, and burst across the arena, intent on--

Snrk.

--Drilling Shiro as hard as he needed to.

Catching up with Shiro's tumbling body, he lunged downwards, drillfist spiralling through the air between them like a thunderbolt from the heavens.

Many people say that felines always landed on their feet. No matter the height, no matter what position their body was in. For Shiro, at least in battle, it was partly true. Punched backward in the air from his Brush Fire attack, Shiro hit the ground in a three-point landing. His two feet and an empty bracing shield-arm being the three points. His sword was still firmly grasped in his hand as he skidded back, though emanating heat waves and smoking slightly. A voice from his memory had taught him that weapon retention was key in life-or-death situations. That if you lost or tossed aside your weapons, it was nearly certain that you'd be digging yourself an early grave. Shiro could never recall who the voice belonged to, but he always took it to heart during his younger years in Signal.

Looking up, Shiro was shocked to see a bloodied and battered Luke already on top of him. So much so that before he fully corrected himself to stand, he stumbled and tripped. Falling on his back just as Luke lunged at him. Bringing up his sword to brace against that lethal drillfist, Shiro shut one eye and grimaced as metal-on-metal grinded, screeched, and tortured his poor ears. Pushing back against the drill with the side of his blade, both of his hands were occupied keeping one of the drillfists at bay. But Luke could easily just nail him with the other.

"How did he recover so quickly?!"
Beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face, he frantically racked his brain for the next course of action.
"What do I do? What do I do?!"

Wincing as sparks flew from the clashing weapons, he was thankful his inherited weapons were finely crafted from a geisteel and siderite alloy. It would hold against Luke's drill for some time, but in that time, Luke could still easily finish him. With his hands occupied, he couldn't light himself aflame with another shotshell. If he dared to move his hands at all, Luke would get one critical blow in and that probably would be the end of it. If he tried to kick and buck Luke off of him, there would still be the chance he'd get clipped.

But...

Luke was once again within "smooching" range.

Shiro hadn't used his Semblance for long before.

Would it hurt to try one more time?

"Worth a shot, might be more effective this time..."

Sharply inhaling, Shiro blasted another snarling roar right in Luke's face. His Semblance's area of effect hardly mattered at this point. After attempting to slam Luke with the debuffing/buffing ability, Shiro went for the buck. Lifting his lower half using his abdominal strength, he threw a donkey kick aimed right at Luke's torso. If Shiro managed to successfully get Luke off his case, he would flip to his feet and reclose the distance with three swift sword swings.

His first strike blocked, Luke sent down the second--

Only to be hit with that roar again. Already fully commited to the strike, he couldn't tell whether he'd hit anything or not, but he could tell that either way, a hard kick planted itself in his diaphragm and sent him stumbling back, legs roughly as helpful and stable as gelatin.

This was like tussling with one of his sisters.

Every time I try and get something to work, they pull something new out of their hat.

School of geniuses.

Should have known.

Three Shiros were in front of him again. This time, though, none of them seemed very friendly, and they were all ready to swing that sword at him.

So what should he do? Push his luck and try to dodge, knowing that the next strike from either side was likely to be the last? What if he tripped? What if he stumbled? What if he ran into one of those swings?

No...

Better idea. If I go out...

He stared defiantly into the eyes of the Shiro in the middle.

It's on my feet!

And with everything he had left, punched that right drill into his aura, a ramrod cross that hit, miss, or graze, he knew would decide this match.

Clang!

Shiro watched as Kladenets was struck from his hands and twisted violently away, Luke's drillfist interuppting his sword combo as it bashed into his first swing. Glowing blue eyes staring as the sword landed point first and stuck itself in the ground a distance from them, Shiro blinked. Turning to face Luke for a moment, Shiro didn't move. He didn't say a word.

"Oh."

Seeing Luke stumble around like a drunken mess, Shiro realized he had made a big mistake. One that his teammates constantly berated him for. A mistake that always made him feel guilty, that made him feel horrible. He had gotten too worked up and excited again. He let his emotions take the wheel and forced him to go maybe a little overboard.

Eyes looking to his still-smoking sword, a nasty mark on it from Luke's drill. To his shield resting on the ground. To the scattered blue plastic casings shotshells he used. To the arena that was already in bad shape from previous matches, but he could easily tell where he and Luke left new scars and wounds.

Looking at Luke, his ears drooped as he sadly frowned. Suddenly, his gloved arm shot up into the air as Shiro projected his voice for all to hear.

"I FORFEIT THE MATCH!"

Goodwitch frowned. "If you were doing worse, I would have accepted this as sportsmanship. But your aura is above Mr. Schwarze. However, given that you both fought well, I will not dock your scores...too much. Would the next two sparring partners make their way into the arena?"

As a horn blared, declaring the match's end and the timer was zeroed out, Shiro slowly lowered his hand. A smile slowly creeping back onto his face as his stripes faded away and his eyes took on their usual golden color, Shiro nervously scratched the back of his head.

"Uh...Sorry, Luke. I guess I forgot this was just a sparring match. You're not my enemy. You're my friend. A comrade."
He looked from side to side at the damage they inflicted.
"I took things a little too far, we both did. Heh, I got too excited. I have a bad habit of not knowing limits and knowing when to stop."

His eyes flitted from Luke's eyes and back down to the ground in shame, his cheeks tinged a slight pink from the embarassment. Shiro opened his mouth to try and say something more, but he couldn't. His voice failing him. What else could he say? Oh, you just disarmed me, so you would've won anyways because I suck at fist-fighting and you would've kept going haha lol? No, anything else would've probably hurt Luke's pride. After all, Shiro just gave him a technical win. If Luke had done the same to Shiro early on, he would've been flabergasted. Swafferdonked. Bamboozled.

Reaching out with a careful hand, he began to realize the full extent of the damage he inflicted to his buddy. "Uh, Luke? You're okay, right?"

"Eugh, I probably shouldn't have said that either."
Oh, gee you just won by technicalities. I didn't hurt you too bad did I roflmao?
Shiro really felt stupid at this point.

Shiro's worries, however, proved unfounded as the shorter teen chuckled once again, this time lighter and with a less sarcastic air to them.

"I'm fine. Not the worst I've ever been banged up." he replied with a smirk. "But I have to say, you really threw me a bone by opting out there..."

He pointed up to the screen, which he'd taken the time to observe as the horn sounded after Shiro's forfeit.

Luke's Aura levels had dipped into the red. Had Shiro thrown the match a second later, there was a good chance he would have won it as Luke's body healed itself, consuming his aura as fuel.

Seemingly unconcerned with the extent of the battle's craziness after the fact, the whirring stopped as the drillfists regressed all the way back to watches, and he stepped forward and offered a hand, thankfully free of the blood he oh so desperately wanted to wipe from his face.

"Good match, Shiro."

Shiro looked up at the large screen that displayed their faces, names, and Aura levels. Geez, was he really doing that well? He hadn't really noticed but thinking about it, Luke didn't really get some good hits in. Other than when he grappled him to the ground and self-inflicted damage, that is.

Turning back to Luke and looking at his presented hand, Shiro mulled a little longer on his own thoughts. The purpose of the combat classes were to improve one's skills. To increase one's strengths and cover your weaknesses. Not to just blow steam and beat the ever-loving snot out of each other, right? Well, Shiro definitely stopped just in time to realize his shortcomings before it was too late and he seriously hospitalized a fellow student.

Relieved that there were no hard feelings between the two of them, Shiro sighed and smiled. A weight lifting from his body as he took Luke's hand and firmly shook it. Chuckling as his smile turned into a bright toothy grin, he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, good match Luke. Maybe some other time you can get your vengeance on me in a fist fight. Ah, speaking of which! So, you're really good at hand-to-hand combat, right? Is there any way you can maybe teach me a few things and give some pointers? There aren't any tiger faunus related martial arts, are there?"

"More than likely not. That would just be absurd. A martial art based on a specific breed of animal or faunus? Nuts."

He blinked, wiping away the blood (which a sharp eye would notice had stopped flowing) from his face, and scrunched it up in thought.

"Well, there's Tiger Style Kung Fu, but I can't say I'm familiar with it..."

I always did tend to stay away from that family of martial arts with all the mysticism involved.

Hard to tell what is and isn't legitimately useful.

"Oh, cool so there is something like that out there?" Shiro eyes practically sparkled as he looked genuinely intrigued and curious. Shaking his head to break himself out of the spells he typically got into, he looked around.

"We should probably clear the arena for the next pair of students. I'll see you around Luke! Hit me up sometime! I sometimes go to the arcade after school with some of my friends!" Shiro shouted as jogged away to retrieve his sword. Waving 'bye' as he did so.

Locking the slide back, he made sure his sword's chamber was free and clear of any potential ammunition unspent. Regardless of its known capacity and perceived usage, always treat every weapon as if they were loaded. Racking the slide back a couple times to clear it, he pointed the sword in a safe direct as he squeezed the trigger to deaden its internal trigger mechanism with a soft click. Jogging over to Perun, he sheathed Kladenets into it and slung the combined weapons onto his back. Transporting them in their 'portable mode' Shiro launched himself out of the arena and acrobatically flipping as he returned to his seat.

"10 points! Perfect landing!"
Pleased with himself, he sat down with a pleasant smile gracing his features as Scoot scrabbled his way over to him. The ferret hopping up onto Shiro's shoulders, the ferret tilted its head as it asked "Fun?"

Still smiling, Shiro petted Scott on his head.
"Yeah, fun."

Scooping up his jacket, Luke dusted himself off and headed for the stands, silently content to let himself heal and relax, mind wandering wherever it pleased.

[Lady Seraphina]

Sapphire Rode - Dorm ==> Combat Class

Sapphire woke the next morning clear headed. She unlike the cat faunus had enough foresight to order something non alcoholic. She got up well before anyone else in the room wishing to shower and change in privacy. More than likely none of her teammates would notice, they tended to avoid her area of the room as much as they possibly could, Sapphire had threatened to drop Scoot into a well if he was ever found in her stuff not long after they'd returned from the Shelter mission. It appeared the threat had been well heeded for her things remained so far undisturbed.

The same could not be said for the rest of the room. Gren despite his need to look after absolutely every facade of his teammates lives kept his space in the room a complete mess. Shiro's things had never quite recovered from his hurricane blast through the room shortly before the mission and between Shiro and Gren Sapphire couldn't be sure if Abel had brought any luggage at all, not counting where it might be.

Sighing in mild disgust Sapphire dressed in her normal cloths. She was preparing for a fight today so instead of her usual white silk gloves to cover the scars on her hands she instead wore fingerless black skater gloves, they granted increased control and grip which was a benefit to her fighting style. Yesterday she'd had to take her white gloves off in order to play her fiddle but she'd put them back on immediately after. She didn't think anyone at the table had noticed the long white scars criss crossing over her palms, at least they hadn't said anything about it. It was possible they were too polite. At least Oswald and the cat girl were.

Fully dressed and ready for the day Sapphire armed herself, she was still using daggers from the Beacon armoury, it would be another day or two before the materials for her new nightmare blades where ready. The school ones where certainly the same length and design but they lacked any of the special features that her originals had encompassed. They didn't feel quite right in her hands but they would do for a simple sparring match.

With her weapons in hand Sapphire went for breakfast before arriving at the arena. Goodwitch sent out a text with the pairings for the day. Hers was apparently someone named Napoli Fiordilatte. The name made him sound very much like a high maintenance aristocrat but Sapphire intended to get a read on him before making any assumptions.

[Abillioncats]

Emmy groaned, her head was...well it wasn't as bad as the previous morning, she had to admit. However it still was causing her grief and she had a big day ahead of her. Despite her own body's protests she marched herself into the bathroom and freshened up. For her it was her first day, and it was important for her for the day to go perfectly, make those good first impressions with the teachers, all that jazz.

She got herself a bowl of cereal and some OJ, ate it up lightning fast, and then was off.

-----------------------------

Ms. Goodwitch's class was buzzing with excitement and energy, and Emerald could practically feed on it. She was certainly more alert now and roaring to go. As their scrolls were updated with who would fight who Emmy looked at her own. She found who she was going to fight to be rather interesting, not that she had any clue who they were.

For now however she found herself drawn to watching the first couple matches. The first one she saw was Robert Fallson v Krysanthe, which she found particularly interesting since she and Krysanthe had a personal duel scheduled after classes that day. It certainly allowed her to see what sort of moves that Krysanthe might use when it came time for their duel. She was confused by Robert's behavior however, and found his apparent issue with fighting woman to be silly. Faunus boys certainly weren't taught not to fight women, the sex and gender of their enemies didn't matter, you fought them regardless, or you died. She didn't think Robert would last long as a huntsmen with that attitude, what would he do if he had to fight a bad guy that was a woman? Silly boy.

The next fight was Luke vs Shiro. Emmy of course had to root for Shiro, considering they'd already become friends. Luke looked like a pretty interesting guy as well, obviously they'd have to become friends as well, just not right now. The way Emmy described their fight was...intense. It got pretty serious for a while, almost frighteningly so. Emmy thought they'd both burn up in the explosion for a moment. In the end though Shiro came out on top, if only barely. He then surprisingly forfeited the match, despite having a clear victory. Emmy thought that said a lot about his character.

------------------------------------

Violet looked at both her comrades in turn, as if sizing them up. The familiar voice that spoke to them was wise as always, if they truly were to work with each other, they needed to know each other's strengths and weaknesses. Therefore they needed to fight.

The warehouse they were in was large and full of obstacles, perfect for ambushing and sniping. As they were however, they were far too close to each other for a bow to be very effective. Violet silently pulled out her bow in front of her, before detaching the string and splinting it in two. She brandished the newly formed scimitars, one in each hand. "Prepare yourselves." She wouldn't speak again till their sparring was over.

[Guess Who]

Robert Fallson - Combat Class

After struggling to get up from the slippery water that was now flowing off the stage, Robert was finally able to get off his back and onto his knees. "I... lost?" he asked rhetorically. He let out a disgruntled groan as he fell forward, now lying face-down in a pool of water. Robert tried to think how was it possible that his aura dropped into the red. "My aura was still in the yellow when she was about to do that aerial kick. Did slipping and falling on my butt really drop it to red?" Letting out a few more groans and moans, the red-haired teen finally pushed himself off the ground and stood up on his own two feet.

"Good fight, Krysthane," Robert said as he walked off the stage. Every step that he took, his soaked shoes made a squelch noise and left a small puddle behind. Drops of water would fall from the corners of his clothing. His, now drenched, red hair clung to his head. As he sat down, Robert hugged his legs towards his body in an attempt to conserve body heat from the chilling water that had soaked him to the bone. "I wish I had a towel," he complained to himself.