what a cool guy

Other times, it just meant carrying a really big stick. Sure, a real Hunter was more dangerous with chopsticks then thugs were with swords and machineguns, but they were more dangerous with swords and machineguns then they were with chopsticks, generally speaking. And needless to say, when it came time to venture into the jaws of death, I made sure to come dressed for the occasion. The swords at my sides were part of that. One was the magical sword that Jaune had given me a few weeks ago, all but humming with its desire to unleash the power it contained.

But the blade I drew was mine. Wilt and Blush, the weapons I’d made years ago, under Raven’s watchful eye. The weapons I’d trained with for endless days and nights, even before Jaune’s inhuman training regime led to restless nights of practice and combat. It bore the scars of it, too, and I’d had to reforge it more than once, sometimes with Raven’s help and sometimes on my own. I didn’t consider that a mark against it, but a matter of pride; maybe the sword I wielded now wasn’t the same as the one I’d first picked up years ago, but I wasn’t the same, either. We’d both changed. We’d both gotten stronger. That was life for you.

And their most recent change was something I was especially proud of. Part of it was a gift from Raven, supposedly a graduation present of sorts. Part of it was Jaune’s inability to do things by halves when it came to anything he thought was important. And a good chunk of it was just me, remaking my weapon with the people I cared about for the sake of protecting and helping them.

This was the result.

What cut through the air was something like a ripple in space, if ripples could cut. I lashed out towards my target with a blade that gleamed even in the darkness, the Dust alloy granting shape to the power I unleashed, drawing it into alignment with its own nature as well as my own. And when it hit the most damaged Humbaba…the creature began to fall apart. The wound that was carved into its chest when the ripple splashed over it glowed searing red and began to both deepen and spread, the edges of the would coming apart in the form of falling rose petal.

The Humbaba let loose an inhuman sound, something glowing purple-white within the depths of its tangled face. I could see it even through the walls of smoke and ash, but I didn’t flinch even as aimed towards me, refusing to let myself falter as I resheathed my sword and began clicking the turning mechanism.

I wasn’t afraid. I was eager.

And when, moments later, the walls of smoke were cut through my a column of light that could have carved a line of destruction through a city, I was all too happy to show it why—to prove that I could give as good as I got. I caught the blast of destructive power on my blade and felt my Aura rise up in response. The power flowed into me like I was trying to swallow a river, setting my blood on fire and my nerves alight as it did. I opened myself up to it, drawing it in, and felt my Aura burn brighter by the moment, glowing through my skin. It flickered like a flame, pulsing in tune with my heart, but I kept it up, holding steady against the power coming my way.

A part of me marveled at what I was doing now—holding back the power of a Humbaba, one of the Grimm that most would consider it a death sentence to meet, let alone fight. But it was a small part now, because this was nothing new to me anymore; you stay around Jaune long enough and all sorts of shit becomes flat-out pedestrian. I’d seen Humbaba and worse. Even this thing, a creature strong enough to survive everything that Jaune had thrown at it, wasn’t enough to make me back down.

I faced it head on, took its most powerful attack, and made its power my own. And when the blast of its power tapered off and faded back into the darkness…I held onto it. It wasn’t something I’d always been able to do, wasn’t even something I’d been able to do for very long. I could draw in down from external sources, but it was hard to hold onto them for long; usually, I released it as quickly as I could, using it to counterattack before I lost control. But I’d been spending a lot of time practicing my control, lately, making sure I could hold my power within my blade for extended periods of time—and if I could do it there, why not within my own body?

This was my Semblance. My power. For all that I’d relied it for years, my sword wasn’t a required part of the equation. And as I held on to that power and converted it, I felt my power, my Aura, swell in response, strengthening me over and over again.

I’d always been able to hit a bit outside my weight class, given the chance to gather power. Now…well, now I had.

Without hesitating for a moment, my finger pulled the trigger on Blush, but I didn’t lash out with a wave of power this time. I didn’t have to, anymore.

This power was my own.

The moment I pulled the trigger, I came apart, space bending around me and through me. I didn’t so much cut through my target as I intersected everything in my path, and when I stopped the Humbaba was to my back and Wilt was in my hand. I flicked it once and then rested it on my shoulder.

“Too bad,” I told it, looking back. “Next time, you should choose your opponents more wisely. Well, but…I guess it’s too late for that now.”

I sheathed my sword as the ancient Grimm came apart into the wilting petals of a rose.

A quite click and I’d chosen my next blade—a moment’s thought and I’d picked my next target.

We all had our jobs to do.

And this one was mine.