The Games We Play

DISCLAIMER: This story is NOT MINE IN ANY WAY. That honor has gone to the beautiful bastard Ryuugi. This has been pulled from his Spacebattle publishment. Anyway on with the show...errr read.

Wounded

I paid close attention to Bianca without using my eyes, choosing to watch her out of the side of my neck instead. She'd been the first to stumble down to get some coffee and though she'd seemed surprised to see him so early, she'd happily engaged him in conversation.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that. After she'd told me about the side-effect of her power—the apparent ability to glimpse souls, if often in monstrous shapes, I'd immediately decided to invite Ozpin to breakfast to let her get a look at him—which she had, to no real reaction. I hadn't felt anything from her emotionally except a dull, tired surprise, and even that had faded in seconds.

Maybe it was a good sign, I thought to myself. Maybe there really wasn't anything there and I was just overly paranoid. Maybe he was perfectly clean.

Or maybe one horrifying monstrosity looked pretty much like any other. Given how she'd described me, I wasn't sure what it would take to stand out to her—and besides which, she was in the same boat I was, having been born so long after the time period where Ozpin might have been infected. If there was something to indicate an infection, even if it was a major sign, neither of us were likely to notice it, having no way to spot any such changes. Even so, I began to consider ways to phrase questions to my oldest sister and ask her to describe Ozpin's soul in detail—even if it was only a tiny hope, it was all I had to go on at this point.

Although, there was always the alternative, I considered. I could tell her the truth and tell her about the Rider situation. If there was a chance that she could see the Riders and distinguish them from normal humans, then she might be safe to tell. Trust wasn't an issue, I just didn't want to plunge her into a world of suspicion without any way of confirming who was safe or not. Quite frankly, I was paranoid enough for the all of us. But if she could see them…

But that was the question, wasn't it? I'd seen Conquest inside my father's soul, but I hadn't seen any sign of the monstrous figures Bianca had mentioned, so I couldn't take for granted that she'd see things the way I did. Or had we been looking at two different things to begin with? I'd considered the possibility that I'd dived into my father's mind instead of his soul—though, truthfully, I wasn't sure if those were different things in this case—in which case perhaps my father's soul had been untouched? Certainly, his Semblance hadn't changed, but I didn't know if that was an indicator of anything. Perhaps—

I stopped myself, making sure nothing touched my face. At the moment, it didn't matter. I'd need to test it before I could say anything one way or another, though I wasn't sure how. Would anything stand out on Ruby? Would my soul change if I became the White Rider, despite being immune to the mental effects?

It was worth testing, but what would I tell her? I could let her know that we'd encountered a Pandora Shell without necessarily saying anything about Conquest or the other Riders, which would handle my own transformation, but that probably wouldn't be enough to cover Ruby—at least, not in-depth enough for what I had in mind. Then again, Ruby would be the same as Ozpin; she'd have never seen her before infection, so there'd be no obvious signs of symptoms. No, it'd be preferable for her to watch the process of a change, which left just me and I was enough of an outlier that I wasn't sure I'd be a good example.

But perhaps I was…well, 'lucky' didn't seem like the term, but perhaps she'd encountered Pandora Shells before? With my sister's power, it was possible that she'd been on disposal duty before—though it was just as possible that they'd kept her way the hell away from anything even vaguely related to the Pandora Shells, considering the consequences if she somehow got infected. Either way, there was only one way of knowing.

The only issue was…once she knew we'd encountered a Pandora Shell, it wouldn't take a genius to piece together the rest of the story. It wouldn't take long for her to wonder if dad had been killed by someone who was infected or if he'd been infected himself—in which case, the follow up question would still be who had actually put him down. All it would take was a quick check to see who made it out of that fiasco alive and who didn't to get a rough idea of what happened. I could imagine her going down the list as she considered the idea of who'd done in dad: Probably not the other guys who died. Probably not the dude missing a leg, either. Mom might have had some difficulties what with missing three limbs and all, which left two unknown kids, one of whom had lost a hand, and her apparently completely unharmed little brother who'd gotten superpowers while she was away.

But who could it have been?

I held back a snort and sigh in turn, looking down at the bag I still held in my hands. Bianca was a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid. I'd escaped apparently untouched from a battle that had flattened, dismembered, or killed pretty much everyone else involved; it wouldn't be difficult to guess who'd 'won.' If I told her we'd encountered a Pandora Shell, the thought of what I'd done would occur to her in short order.

She wouldn't hate me, I knew that; she wouldn't feel anything but love and pity, sadness for my sake and worry. I had nothing to fear from her in that regard, except for the pain it would cause her. Together with the dangers of the knowledge involved, I'd considered that reason enough not to say anything—but if needed, I could easily edit the story by simply leaving Conquest unmentioned and she'd never need to learn more if the tests failed. With that risk out of the way, the opportunity this presented trumped everything, especially my own reservations.

Because facing the idea, I had to admit the truth; I hadn't really wanted to tell her. Yes, a lot of it was to keep her safe and keep her from having to live with the knowledge of what I'd done, but I knew my sisters—all of them—were strong and that I could have covered the confidential bits up. In truth, I just didn't want to tell them what I'd done to our father. Because I'd saved him in a way, yes, but I'd failed him too and killed his body because of it. I knew they'd understand, could even edit some of the bits in his mind, soul, or whatever to make them tell-able and explain how much I'd done, but I didn't want to admit that after everything I'd done, in that battle and as Jian Bing, I'd still failed where it mattered most.

But reason trumped all of that. Today, I'd tell her the truth. Hell, maybe telling her would even make me feel a bit better about it, though I somewhat doubted that. Even my optimism had limits.

I tapped a finger against the bag I held, listening to the softened contact against the metal within. If I was going to face Bianca, then there was no point beating around this particular bush, either. Calling to Levant to help me close the area off just in case, I opened the bag and drew out a case that looked like it could have held an instrument of some kind. Embracing my paranoia, I took note of both Bianca and Ozpin's emotions as they looked my way and focused my many senses on the box. Nothing noticeable popped out at me from either direction and so I opened it, still on guard and ready to drop a Flare on this box if there was so much as a single Grimm cell on the thing.

But it was clean as far as I could see—and I could see pretty goddamn far. I stared at my father's hammer for a moment longer and then closed my eyes and bowed my head in only mostly feigned grief. Naturally, I continued to watch the hammer through the skin of my face, on alert just in case anything bad dared try to happen, but there was nothing.

"Jaune," I heard Bianca whisper and opened my eyes, drawing the hammer from its case. I let Crocea Mors flow into the steel as I turned it this way and that, but when I caught sight of him in the hammer's reflection, it was my father's face staring back. I held back a twitch and patiently waited for him to finish his scan, making sure there were no traps or places a stray cell might have fallen into that I'd somehow miss. But no, it seemed whoever had looked it over had done their job well; it was safe.

Which meant I was fresh out of reasons not to do this. Shifting my hold on the hammer, I took a deep, unnecessary breath and felt something click into place.

Psychometry (Active) LV1 EXP: 0.00%

A skill given to those with the ability to feel the impressions left on objects by the Aura of living beings and draw information from them. By piecing together thousands of different markings on an object, entire scenes may be reconstructed, potentially long after the event itself occurred. Powerful scenes may leave stronger impressions, but the user's ability to piece together faint traces, as well as to draw information from them, increases with both WIS and skill level.

Base time: 1 week.

The images came over me in a rush, flashing across my mind as if thrown into it by a storm. I felt something tense in me and reached out, prepared to either stop the storm or pick something to focus on, but I drew back at the last second and let things play out. It was at once a rapid process and a drawn out one, with scenes slowing down and then skipping ahead—or perhaps backwards, in this case—seemingly at random. Most of it was of labs and cleansings, of heat and careful washings and more, but I barely paid those attention and the process seemed to pick up on my impatience because it hastened accordingly until it reached the image I…I wasn't certain if 'want' was the word or 'need,' but the image I had to see.

For a moment, I saw my father's face again. For a moment, I heard his voice again. I stood beside him again as he fought and I watched him die again. Then I went back further to see everything that led up to it, though the images became harder and harder to focus on.

Then the moment passed and I drew back, closing my eyes once more and keeping my expression blank.

A skill has been created through a special action! By drawing on the experience of a fallen master, the skill 'Hammer Mastery' was created!

A skill has been created through a special action! By drawing on the experience of a fallen master, the skill 'Thunder Hammer Technique' was created!

"Jaune," Bianca said again, as if only a moment had passed—which I confirmed was the case with a glance out the back of my neck, checking the clock on the wall. Even as I did, though, the majority of my attention remained on Bianca and the concern on her face. "Are you okay?"

I took a moment longer to organize my thoughts and review the new experience. I'd relieved the battle against Conquest—or at least, the part outside of my father's mind or soul—but from the perspective of my father's weapon. It had been an odd way to experience the battle, composed as much of motions as images, but it was still enough to fill in some blanks. Even though the edges were blurred as I went further back, I'd felt the traces of Aura come together at my will and recreate the battle, even filling in a few parts I'd been absent for and left me feeling reassured that it was over, that Conquest hadn't pulled anything while I was preoccupied.

The bonus skills were a surprise, but I suppose it made sense enough when I considered it; I had, after all, experienced their own uses. I'd picked up a skill for using both hammers and my father's personal style by experiencing both, so I suppose it made sense—and I guess I couldn't complain about free Passives, even if neither were really a match for my particular fighting style. It made me wonder what other skills I could gain from Psychometry and it certainly seemed like something worth testing; at the very least, I should be able to pick up other skills relating to particular weapons and fighting styles. It seemed likely that skills directly related to the physical use of objects would be possible to pick up with a touch, but I'd need to test it before saying anything about Aura techniques and skills that came entirely from the user.

Still, even if it was potentially limited, I could live with being able to pick up new skills at a touch, difficult though such a burden might be.

Smiling lightly at the thought, I nodded to Bianca at last, watching as she abandoned her conversation with Ozpin and slid over a few chairs to sit face-to-face with me. For his part, Ozpin stared into his coffee cup as if he could learn all the world's secrets by doing so, seemingly oblivious to us both.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bianca asked, apparently considering that privacy enough.

I considered her for a moment before nodding slowly, seeing my chance.

"Yes, actually," I replied before quickly checking on the locations of my other sisters. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there seemed to be lines forming near both of the upstairs bathrooms, but already several had finished and were preparing to come downstairs. I tilted my head in the direction of the stairs and Bianca nodded back slowly in acceptance.

"Perhaps you can show me more of your techniques later, as well?" She offered, the hidden message rather obvious. "In Naraka, I mean."

"Sure," I said. "I think I'm getting used to Aureola and there are some other skills I wanted to show you besides. Tonight okay?"

"Of course," She answered before looking down at our father's hammer for a long moment. I followed the gaze, sensing the undercurrent of emotion running through her and understood quickly—needless to say, the weapon was far from pristine condition after both the battle and the procedures to guarantee that it was clean. Though the latter had erased any sign of the dirt and blood that had once clung to it, it hadn't done anything to help with the dozens of nicks, dents, and cracks that peppered its surface. It was hard to look at it and note be reminded of what it's wielder had endured.

"Should I fix it?" I murmured, drawing her gaze again. "Or should I leave the signs of his final battle."

Bianca seemed to honestly consider that before slowly nodding.

"Dad never was one to hold onto the bad times," She said. "And I think he'd be appalled to see his trusted weapon in such a state."

I nodded back in agreement and let Crocea Mors flow through the steel, popping dents back out, mending cracks, and quickly restoring the weapon to its normal condition. In seconds, it looked good as new and I gently returned it to its case, knowing the others wouldn't want to see it—and like Bianca had said, I thought they'd like it better looking that way then the alternative. Out of the back of my hands, I saw Bianca smile for a moment.

It faded quickly however as she looked back up at me and glanced towards Ozpin, who appeared to still be seeking wisdom from the coffee gods. At my sister's glance, they seemed to tell him to go admire the portraits in the front hall, because he rose and left the kitchen for a moment. However he appeared, I knew he was fully aware of everything going on around him and was somewhat doubtful that being on the other side of the house would meaningfully change that—but I couldn't very well throw stones in that particular house and both of us appreciated the gesture. Bianca looked back at me, hesitated a moment longer, and took a breath.

"Jaune," She slowly began. "About Dad's funeral…"

"I know," I answered quietly and gave her a slightly sad smile.

Funerals were…well, even when I had been too young to understand what they truly meant, I'd found them odd. It went without saying that a large gathering of grief-stricken individuals was a horrifying risk when the Grimm were attracted to negative emotions—perhaps even a suicidal one for villages on the edge of the Kingdoms or past them. Even within the walls of Vale, it wasn't something that was often done and was often frowned upon. As a result, other ways to mourn the passing of loved ones had been developed over the ages. There wasn't any standard method, owing partially to the fact that the Kingdoms of Modern Remnant were descended from many fallen cultures and partially because people were people and liked to both show off and be unique, so it was enough to produce some fairly odd results now and then.

I still remembered feeling odd when the whole city had celebrated for an entire day when Councilman True passed away, but though they usually weren't of such a massive scale, parties to honor the dead weren't uncommon.

But there were many groups that had their own ways of mourning the fallen and Hunters were amongst them. Before they knew what I'd gotten up to and was capable of, my sisters had probably been expecting to put those aside to have a more normal funeral, but with his fallen weapon on the table between us, I could see the question in Bianca's eyes and nodded in response.

"We'll send him off the old fashioned way," I said. "If needed, we can even use Naraka for it."

"I think he'd like that," She whispered, but her smile was real. "I think the others would, too."

"Mhm," I agreed, my smile becoming a tad happier at the thought. I'd come across the tradition in my studies, so I knew the basics though I'd never seen one myself. Rather than any words about the lives lost, it would start with a listing of the many people he'd saved over the course of his career—in a broad sense, of course, for the sake of time—and other marks of honor. From there, the ceremony really depended on the participants, but it always culminated in the same way; a thanks for their service and a display meant to prove that those left behind would be able to carry on without them, letting their souls rest in peace.

In our particular case, something like that was probably going to be at least mildly cataclysmic, though.

"That's enough talk of death for now, then," Bianca smiled, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers. "Let's talk about life, instead. Have you given any thought as to what you want for your birthday?"

I tilted my head, stared at her for a long moment, and actually had to mentally check the date. Sure enough, my birthday was only a few weeks off.

"You're looking at me like I just started speaking in tongues," Bianca rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you forgot?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted. "I'd have remembered eventually, but it hasn't been a priority. Besides, it's still a ways away. We've always been pretty sedate about stuff like that anyway."

Bianca made a face but couldn't deny it. For my last two birthdays, my sisters had just gotten me online gift cards which, honestly, I was more than happy with. It was the era of internet purchases, after all.

Well, but I didn't need stuff like that anymore. Or…much of anything else, really. If I developed a sudden, pressing need for something, I had my fair share of ways to get it without waiting for a specific day to roll around, not least of which being to just buy it. In fact, all of us could do that, more or less; one of the benefits of being a Hunter family.

"True enough," She admitted before musing to herself. "Still, we should do something special for your seventeenth birthday—it's kind of tradition, even if the reason why doesn't really apply in your case."

I snorted at that and nodded. It didn't escape me that if I were a normal Hunter kid—that is, nothing at all like who I was now or who I'd been before I got this power—I'd be frantically preparing for Beacon right now, preparing to take that major step and decide my life. As it was, with everything that had happened to me over these last few months, it was just a nonissue. I was a Hunter now, if not an official one, and had already decided my future even if I wasn't sure where it'd lead me.

"I'll try to think of something," I offered regardless, even as I rose and collected Ozpin's plate from the table. "We'll talk about it later, along with…you know."

"Yeah," She said, still absently poking her food. The rest of the food was already in place around the table and I was keeping it warm until they got down here, but Bianca absently picked off a few choice bits here and there, evidently deciding that first come, first serve was the rule of the day. The others were taking their sweet ass time, so I didn't mention it. "Are you going back to training now?"

"I will in a bit," I answered back, putting the dishes in the sink. "Still need to talk about a few more things with Ozpin."

She nodded and went back to the plate before her, silently enjoying somebody's country ham as I left the kitchen and found Ozpin looking at the pictures of my parent's victories. Unlike me, he probably recognized most of the scenes and a few, where my mother and father looked almost bizarrely young, had captured his attention.

"Their first unsupervised mission," He said without prompting as I joined him. "From their second year at Beacon."

I nodded and glanced over the picture again. I'd walked past it a thousand times but it had been quite a while since I'd really looked at it. Now that I did, I could pick out details I hadn't noticed before, of buildings I didn't recognize, trees that were unusual for Vale, the angle of the sun on their faces. They and their teams smiled at the camera and looked happy, triumphant, and younger then I'd ever seen them—barely older then I was now.

"Another village protection mission?" I guessed from their surroundings. I didn't recognize the town, if it even still existed. This would have been over thirty years ago and if I'd learned anything its that things can change very quickly, whether you wanted them to or not.

"Yes," He said. "Though nothing as…notable as your own, thankfully."

Raising his mug to his lips he took a deep sip and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing.

"When do you plan on leaving for Mistral?" He asked at last.

"Soon," I replied. "I've been focusing on grinding my healing skills in the hope that they'll either grow strong enough to heal Mom and the others or develop into something that will. It shouldn't take more than a week to get Soulforge to ninety-nine, now—maybe even less. I hope that'll be enough, but if it's not, that's even more reason to head to Mistral; if there's no solution here, Alexandria's Library is my best bet."

He hummed and nodded slightly.

"When you regrow her limbs, I can deal with any questions raised," Ozpin said without me even needing to ask—and he said 'when' in a tone that indicated he felt it was inevitable, which I appreciated. "I've already had the therapists begin to evaluate your mother, though they're currently under the impression that she's a candidate for cybernetic prosthetics. If need be, I can arrange for that to happen in truth, but given the amount of time required to adapt to such limbs and the expense, it seemed wiser to let you work first."

"It's a good backup plan," I mused. "But yeah, I don't think it's necessary. One way or another, I'll figure this out."

He nodded again, eyes still on the pictures.

"When you figure out how to regrow limbs," He continued. "I have several old friends that you might be able to help, as well."

"Like General Ironwood?" I asked.

"James is one of them," He admitted. "Though in his case, I'm uncertain he'd take me up on the offer, though I'm sure he'd appreciate it. As you might expect, he's done some rather extensive modifications to his arm and though I'm certain he misses his flesh, he might miss the steel as well. It never hurts to ask, however, and he might consider incorporating the technology involved elsewhere, but I can't be certain after all these years. Still, there are many others—Hunters that were grievously injured in the line of duty, primarily, but…"

"Political figures," I guessed again. "Or those close to them, as a way of making allies."

"A cold way of putting it," He said. "But not inaccurate. There are a number of people your power could help—and a number of people who could help us. I see little harm in repeating what you did at the hospital a few times, however."

I nodded in agreement.

"It might be a good idea to make a few public displays as well, to build the right kind of reputation," I noted, making Ozpin smile.

"So cynical for one so young," He said, shaking his head in amusement even as I chuckled.

"Things can be done for more than one reason," I replied. "Pragmatism and kindness aren't mutually exclusive; I'm just pointing out that I can tell which is which. You don't need to dress things up for me; I get it."

"Why bother telling you what you already know?"

I chuckled again at that and inclined my head towards him.

"Fair enough," I allowed, noting my sisters moving upstairs before refocusing on him. "Speaking of dressing things up, though…I meant to ask you about the press before. I figured you had something in mind since you gave me the go-ahead, but I never got a chance to ask what. I saw what I did in the hospital made it into the paper, but I also noticed that no news vans have showed up outside my house lately."

Ozpin smiled at that, looking slightly amused.

"Fame is a double edged sword and thus one which is best handled with care," He replied. "I'll ensure nothing troublesome happens while you remain in Vale, just as I'm sure your Grandmother will in Mistral, leaving us to apply the benefits of such a thing with care."

I nodded, understanding. It wasn't that surprising, really; working on the principle that sometimes no news was good news, I knew the upper echelons of the government were occasionally empowered to…well, pretty much decide what was or wasn't said. Because of how the Grimm were draw to negativity, spreading the wrong news could endanger thousands of lives, which made such control an unfortunate necessity. Even so, I was a bit surprised at how far such reach went—stopping anything from being said was one thing, but spreading news and controlling how it was reported and acted upon was something else. At the very least, I'd have expected someone who'd been badly hurt to try and draw my attention, but as far as I could tell, no one had even gotten close to our house. I'd spent a lot of time in Naraka lately, but still…

"What about the civilians?" I asked.

"Arrangements are being made at the hospital," He gestured. "There are already systems in place to control how civilians are able to draw upon the aid of Hunters for things such as construction and other civic concerns—it was a relatively simple matter to expand it to cover you. It's primarily a matter of paperwork and reviews, but it's strictly enforced, so it should be sufficient for the time being. Mistral handles things with perhaps an even firmer hand, so it should be easy enough to control, though your Grandmother would likely be more familiar with the specifics than I. I think we can all agree that allowing you to stay focused on the matter at hand is worth the cost, however."

"I see," I said, considering his words. "Okay, then. I'll speak to her about it later. Is there anything you need me to do on that front?"

"Nothing unusual—it's mainly just a matter of keeping you from being hounded at home," He shook his head. "Paean knows how good—and how fast—you are at healing so, so it's mainly a matter of organization and registration. There will likely be a number patients coming your way in the near future and you may be called in emergencies, but otherwise, it's nothing different from what you've been doing. There may be some issues when you change locations, but otherwise…"

"Cool," I said, turning to face the stairs as Olivia came around the corner, her hair still slightly wet. "Good morning, sis."

"Jaune," She yawned before spotting our guest and blinking suddenly. "Oh, and Professor Ozpin! I didn't know you were coming over, sir."

"Good morning, Olivia," He nodded his head in greeting. "I simply needed to drop off a few things and speak to Jaune, but he invited me in for breakfast."

"Ah," She said, nodding as a half-conscious looking Azure followed her around the corner and poked her wet hair. The water in her hair darkened and shifted into one of Azure's friendly creations, which quickly went about doing Olivia's hair. Olivia didn't even react to the process, merely furrowing her brows in mild concern. "Is it about the whole…you know. The thing?"

I waggled a hand.

"I was just telling him about the arrangements I made," I said. "I'll be moving to Mistral soon—didn't Bianca tell you?"

"I was going to, but she was already sleeping," Bianca said from the kitchen, raising her voice to be heard.

"I see," I turned my head to meet my youngest sister's surprised eyes and shrugged. "Well in that case, I'll be moving to Mistral soon, Olivia."