Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on multiple existing anime/manga series. The characters and settings used in this story belong to their respective owners and creators, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to infringe upon any existing intellectual property. I do not own any of the original works that inspired this fanfiction, and I fully support the original creators and their works.
I'm also occasionally chilling in JaxWolf4's (Author of Nah, I'd Adapt and Zenin Days) Discord Server. It's a chaotic lobotomy mess. Not for the faint of heart.
Here's the link:
Disc: HrPrTeam
KOKUSEN! KOKUSEN!
-Story Start-
A warm, cloudy afternoon in the frantic city of Vale, the racket of the usual hustle and bustle reverberated across the packed streets as per norm:
The noise of wheels meeting a rough, coarse road coupled with a myriad of frustrated and impatient car-horns loudly reverbrating.
Not far from the road, in the adjacent streets, were a myriad of Cafes, Restaurants, and other places of leisure - the humdrum of banal conversation and gossip of the resting occupants adding to the aesthetic of the city of Vale.
Nevertheless, even in the banal and routine, a lingering undertone of dread and apprehension permeated the adults and those more in touch with the latest events:
A woman dining on a piece of cheesecake, slicing through it slowly with her fork as she admitted with a noticeable grimace, "My husband's been gone for two weeks now... I know he's a Huntsman, but he told me it's only for a few days, and it's a town just a day away by vehicle. Reception has been weak, and it's... driving me insane."
The younger woman sat across from her, donning a disgruntled scowl, exclaimed, "Oh please, at least your husband specializes in territory reclamation." She asserted, "My boyfriend's a law enforcement Huntsman and they pissed him off to some village yesterday!"
Gasping, the older woman paused her dining to look up at her friend, "Law enforcement? Sent out? Are we... running out of Huntsmen? Is this concerning all law enforcement Huntsmen?"
"A decent batch was told to fuck off, my boyfriend among them. And it's so-so. With the kingpin arrested, the criminal underworld's been running wild."
Nodding in understanding, the older woman followed the trail, "Yeah, there's been too much street violence lately. I even missed work last week because of it, but I heard Viridian has been rather 'tough' on them?"
Shrugging, the younger woman replied, "From what he's told me, the prisons are packed to the brim, the worst ones are awaiting execution or exile like that White Fang prick."
"Anyway, Amethyst, I think it's safe to say Vale's stabilized, otherwise they wouldn't send him to help guard and fight against the Grimm."
"So it's confirmed, we have run out of huntsmen..." A sense of unease and dread laced Amethyst's tone.
"I'm hopeful it hasn't completely gone to shit, but..." She shook her head, offering an idea, "Ozpin should send that 'heroic' kid of his, Alex Andrite."
"Oh? Isn't that the one who single-handedly dealt with the Mountain Glenn Incident?"
"Yup."
Amethyst mumbled with a thoughtful expression, her head leaning into the palm of her hand, "He was all the buzz for a week, but news about him has died down."
"Ozpin's been covering for him, no doubt."
Amethyst answered, "He is still an innocent student after all. Although I worry for my husband, I prefer that a talent like that young man be polished before being deployed. I say leave him to Ozpin."
"Oho~ as expected of an anxious woman married to a Huntsman specializing in territory reclamation. How often do you see him?"
"Not often enough... I'll start getting gray hair at this pace, but he's stubborn about it."
"But that's what you like about him, don't you~?"
Taking a bite of her cheesecake, a smile returned to Amethyst's face, "It is a facet I admire, yes."
Coughing to return the conversation at hand, a leering grin appeared on the younger woman, a fresh piece of gossip on her knowing smile, "I'll have to correct you on one thing, though. I wouldn't call that kid 'innocent' by any means."
"Mary, you know something." She accused.
Nodding, Mary grinned like a loon, drawling out, "This is kindddd of classified, but basically a lot of details were omitted on how the kid dealt with the situation."
Rolling her eyes, Amethyst played according to her friend's book, "Let me guess... your boyfriend told you?"
"Yup, a lot of new juicy details came out recently, I had to squeeze it out of him, ya know~?"
Sighing with transparent disappointment, Amethyst hazarded a guess, "You mean, he killed them? That is to be expected-"
"He obliterated them." Mary waved her arms frantically, gesturing grandly with open arms.
"...Certainly you're exaggerating?" Amethyst waved her off with an uncertain tone.
Mary elaborated, "Not a body was left of his victims except for splatters of blood!"
"O-Oh."
Amethyst's face turned aghast and paled at that piece of gossip, in contrast to Mary's widening grin.
"Apparently, when the kid ran from Beacon to the Mountain, he carved out a path through sheer speed, basically the eye of a storm, that's bloody unheard of! Some cops and Huntsmen are calling him Ghoramu in Human form!"
"I-Is that confirmed?"
"I wouldn't recommend trying to navigate Grimm-infested forests to search for some kind of carved path, but you trust me, right?"
"I suppose so..."
She began to cackle, "The cocky pricks had not a sliver of a chance, getting vaporized while their leader was beaten to near death! What a riot! Serves them right! HAHAHAHAHHAHA!"
"Goodness me, if he's that powerful... that child is a Monster."
"Let's agree to disagree, anyone who makes mince-meat out of scum is a worthy Huntsman and 'Hero' by my book, as the media wanted to label the brat."
"My brilliant mind suggests... deploying the kid, let him do what he's good at." She scoffed, "I mean, what more could you train him to do if he did your own job better than you?"
"Not a fan of Ozpin, are you?"
"I much prefer men of action like Viridian and Ironwood. Action against Reaction. The answer's obvious, especially when you see now that he's settled Vale's perpetual rat infestation within the month and is cutting off the White Fang from our proud city."
"...I wouldn't be quick to jump to conclusions, where there's a vacuum-"
"There's someone to fill it, yeah, yeah. But permanent solutions cannot exist. I prefer a proper temporary solution to a lackluster one."
"Even if that strong, decisive, and sudden solution is one of the key reasons for the rise of Grimm around Vale?"
Huffing, she waved off the argument and stood her ground, "That's Ozpin's fault. Viridian's fixing the mess."
"By blatantly discriminating against the Faunus?"
"Taking measures against the White Fang, not the Faunus. He's been meticulous and surgical in driving them off."
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, they were self-destructing within Vale. Segregating a large population of potential suspects and connected friends and family is and was only counter-productive. What of the logistical issue of returning them to their homes after they're cleared?"
"By the time of the Vytal Festival, it should settle... or so my boyfriend believes."
"And what about the unnecessary public execution of Adam Taurus that has yet to take place?"
"Quite simple, Amy, it's an example."
Huffing in exasperation, the older woman shook her head and grasped her fork, taking a mouthful of the sweet treat to wash away the worry, anxiety, and bitterness.
She was done with this depressing conversation and likened the relationship enough not to waste it on an argument.
-----------------------------
Three people stood within a room.
A living room, like any other.
It was small, incredibly so.
And yet, the occupants who've lived for over a decade in this small two-bedroom apartment never felt a lack of space.
It was warm, covered with posters of a once proud social movement, and many hand-crafted and decorated clay vases.
Yet the standout feature was a simple picture:
A young woman with elephant ears and a small boy with similar features.
But that was not the only photograph decorating the space.
Another, with the boy a smidgen older, with a broken bike.
Then another, with the boy in his teens graduating from a preparatory school, standing alone, with his mother.
There were several of them, these pictures.
Regardless of the situation.
Regardless of the time.
In each piece of frozen time hung into a portrait...
The mother and her son donned a wide, happy, blissful smile.
...
Oddly, a strange odor permeated the warm abode.
The expected, usual scent of freshly cooked food was instead replaced by the stench of decay, of rot.
The living room appeared disheveled, incredibly disorganized, and chaotic.
All the while, the muffled sound of the Television with the Vales News Network reporting on a new scoop, something in regards to new discoveries related to the tragic disaster in Mountain Glenn.
In reality, this was all background noise.
Within the living room, a sharp screech of ceramic pots shattering shook the small living room; the shards splattering and spreading across the room and floor.
A soft thud of someone being strongly pushed into a wall accompanied it, followed by a wail.
An emotional malestrom.
Despair.
Longing.
Vengeance.
Hatred.
"MY SON! YOU KILLED MY SON!" An elephant-eared woman roared with unadulterated animosity, an ugly, disheveled snarl on her face.
Her eyes were red and bloodshot, with tears that hadn't ceased flowing down her face.
Both her hands grasped the shirt of a slightly taller young man, pinning him to the wall.
The young man only met her wail with a deep, regretful frown.
His grip tightened on the hilt of the holy sword attached to his side, as if to calm himself.
"YOU DAMN MONSTER!" She screamed at his face, as her arms trembled and began to tear at his shirt.
"Mr. Andrite!" Peter Port's uneasy voice rang aloud as he rushed to Alex's side.
Only to pause at Alex's sharp turn of the head and quick response, "I told you, don't."
Hesitating only momentarily, Professor Port kept a worried expression as he held himself back, standing aside.
Returning his gaze back at the Faunus who pinned him to the wall, he voiced out again:
His words were genuine and regretful, "I didn't intend on killing your son, Miss Phant. I'm sorry."
Her limbs trembled once more as his words appeared to only embolden and add further fuel to the flames.
She released her tight hold on his clothes, having torn sections of his shirt apart, her hands shot towards his throat in a tight hold, "AS IF AN APOLOGY WILL MAKE THINGS RIGHT!" She roared, "MY BOY! MY LITTLE BOY! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! MONSTER!"
Yet, no matter how hard she pressed at his throat, she couldn't bypass his aura.
Frustrated, she let go momentarily and lowered herself to the floor to grab a sharp piece of the shattered pot, slashing at Alex's neck with all the strength she could muster.
Even then, it proved fruitless.
She slashed.
"DIE!"
She slashed once more.
"DIE!"
She slashed again.
"HE WAS MY EVERYTHING!"
Again.
"MY JOY IN THIS LIFE!"
"MY REASON FOR LIVING!"
And again.
"AND YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME!"
"I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU!"
And again.
"I WILL CURSE YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!"
"I WILL DEDICATE MY LIFE TO DESTROYING YOURS! COUNT ON IT!"
And again...
She slashed and she slashed, her screams growing manic and repetitive.
Eventually, she ran out of breath, her breathing becoming labored and rapid.
Silence reigned in the room at her pause.
Her grip tightened on the sharp ceramic in her hand, the blood from the tiny cut dripping down the floor with a loud pitter patter amid the stillness.
She began to shiver and tremble once more, and then...
She laughed.
It was a quick, snicker that rapidly grew into a mad, hysterical cackle accompanied by tears and a sharp scream.
What followed that scream was a raise of her hand and...
Nothing.
Her wrist hurt; it couldn't move.
She tried to move it, but it was not receptive.
Her manic, messed-up expression morphed into perplexion as she lifted her gaze to look at her raised hand.
Blood dripped down her arm, but the pain was dull.
The sharp ceramic was still tightly held, aimed directly at her throat.
But it failed to meet its destination; a monstrous grip held her back, stopping her from ending it all.
Her breath hitched in realization as she turned to glare at the amber-eyed monstrosity with an almost primordial fear, a guttural plea escaped her lips:
"LET ME GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" She twisted and turned, yet Alex held on, not letting her go.
"LET ME DIE! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM!"
"PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU LET ME GO!"
"PLEASE!"
"LET ME-"
"LET ME DIE!"
"LET-"
"LET ME-"
"LET..."
...
A loud, reverbrating thud echoed as the woman fell to her knees, a hollow look in her eyes as her right hand was still held in the air by Alex.
The ceramic shard fell out of her grip at her visible surrender.
Her voice was weak, filled with anguish.
A trembling, helpless mess.
With one final request:
"P-Please, kill me. I beg of you."
It was a grim, suffocating silence.
Professor Port's visage trembled with indecision on wanting to take over this situation, yet Alex's voice cut through the noise.
His lips parted, and his voice and tone were calm yet softer than usual, as he lowered himself to meet the hollow gaze of the mourning mother with his firm amber gaze.
His frown was deep, yet his lips trembled for a moment, "I'm... not going to kill you."
Before she could respond, he added, "This might sound like empty words, but find a reason to live, you are not thinking straight right now. Not with me here."
Rising up, he swiftly scanned the room. He noticed a small notebook and pen on a table, which he walked towards with purpose. Arriving, he tore off a small piece of paper and wrote his number on it.
With it, he lowered himself back to the woman and handed her the paper, stating with a thin, determined line on his face:
"I killed your son, I didn't intend to kill him, and for that, I am sorry." He repeated.
"Once I leave, take your time, think things through. Find a reason to live."
His grasp on Excalibur's hilt tightened even more, as he continued, "If, even after thinking things through, you still want to die..."
"Call me, I'll kill you."
"Mister Andrite!" Professor Port's bewildered tone shook the room.
But Alex ignored it; it was his mess-up.
And this... was as far as he would be willing to go.
To Be Continued!
-Author Note Start-
A bit of a transition and time-skip we got over here, huh?
Well, I had the remarkable dilemma of either writing the Jaune-section more, or skipping it and showcasing the changes through 'storytelling' and through Alex's POV.
Was this the correct narrative decision?
Idk, I'm losing my patience, and there are certain things I want to get to and write.
What?
Write more, you say, and it'll be okay either way?
True, true.
Anyway, as you can see, I have chosen the latter of the two options for the sake of pacing - I've got a lot to cover.
Yang's development and Team JRNY's dynamics are something you'll be seeing probably next chapter.
Poor Jaune lol.
Anyway, as for Blake's funeral and whatnot, also should be happening relatively soon alongside the arrival of her parents.
But as you can see from the little gossip session, things are turning out a little different.
Why and how, and who is this Viridian guy?
Well, he's an OC (YIKES NOOOO NOT AN OCCCCCC CURSES!)
It is what it issssssssssssssssss.
But this was a nice chapter to catch a glimpse of the mentality and 'code', so to speak, of our dear 'Third Wielder Of The Holy Sword' Alex Andrite.
Yay!
Since you have yet to see her, I'll lay out this claim until proven otherwise:
CINDER A FRAUD!
Love ya and bu bye!