Chapter 1

Alright. I love Yasuo. I love his playstyle, his design, his personality and quotes. And since I've discovered my newfound appreciation for writing, I've decided to postpone Just Research to start this Fic. The title is a reference to one of Yasuo's quotes, if anyone's noticed, and I do suggest searching 'Icathia' on the LoL wiki, along with Kassadin's lore because that's going to make this story a lot clearer.

*Note*: I'll work on getting chapter 1 revised soon. I've realized it's far the best of writing so if you gave me a chance and do check out some later chapter's I'll be very thankful :D.

The sun peeked shyly through a window framed by rotten, splintered wood, gently caressing a face contorted into an annoyed grimace.

Hangovers were painful. More so than being forced to kill off Noxian squads every five kilometres he travelled, which were becoming more annoyances than anything. But Freljordian wine… That just made the headaches and everything than came from consuming more amounts of alcohol than what was probably healthy worth it.

Unfortunately, with only three hundred coins worth of gold in his weathered pouch, staying here past noon wouldn't be a good idea, unless he wanted to be chased out of the town by a mob of thugs. It wasn't that they were a threat, but having to intentionally focus on keeping his blows non-fatal was something incredibly irritating for a swordsman trained for lightning-fast strikes to the vitals.

And so, Yasuo could only throw curses of ancient Ionian at the sun shining through a window, groaning as he dragged himself off the creaking bed and donned the familiar armour of polished steel with simple, coarse robes underneath. Braiding his hair into a warrior's ponytail may have been a challenge when he was young, but inns as cheap as this one that had been about the most luxurious available to him for the last five years didn't tend to sport one that wasn't covered with cracks or grime that was probably a bad idea to touch.

Finally, came the sword. The blade shone in the rays of sunlight as he drew it from it's sheath. It was one of the few possessions left that he truly valued. The blade was a masterpiece of sword crafting, folded an uncountable number of times and inked with elaborate designs. Above that was the Summoner magic weaved into the metal. This blade would have been passed on to his children, and then their children, and down the line of future swordsmen to come.

It was a gift to him from Yone, when he graduated from the Ionian academy. It was from a time when his teachers praised him for his talent, telling him that great one day he would do great things. He had a family, and a loving brother that he admired, looked up to.

That time was not now.

Yasuo shook his head. Now was not the time for moping. For all he knew bounty hunters who picked up the job northern temple were still on his trail. He'd gained a slight step ahead them when he'd met an ex-Summoner willing to teleport him for a reasonable price, but soon they would catch up.

They always did. And by then there would be no choice left to him, but to kill them. It wasn't. It never was, but every time, it felt like there was another piece of him, his soul, dying. It was better not to think about it. Once one has suffered enough, they tended to learn that emotions weren't an ally. Love was a lie, happiness was short. Anger, pain, sadness, you ignored them or they consumed you. And ignore them he did, pushing the memories deeper into the depths of his mind as he descended down creaking stairs, making a mental note to refrain from getting so dramatic again.

The Tavern was already busy at seven in the morning. Making his way through the general din, Yasuo gave one last glance at the bar before stomping down the prospect of another drink and throwing the rusted keys to his room at the old lady manning the inn counter. She caught it and yelled something illegible in response. At least there wasn't any detectable anger in her voice, so he'd be able to actually walk his way out of the village, thankfully.

Yet another day of walking on badly-paved dirt paths. He needed to reach the next village by night, lest the need to spend another night sleeping beneath a try freezing to half-death.

Apparently there were rumours of Kassadin showing up around the area. Yasuo could not care less, so long as the Rift Walker didn't try to attack him, like most people he met seemed to want to do.

Pushing through the heavy oaken doors, a weary sigh escaped Yasuo's mouth as he got on the way.

And that's my attempt at the new fic. How does it sound? This is the intro and anything to do with RWBY will show up next chapter. I kinda just wanna introduce the character for now. Oh and in this fic Yasuo will be nowhere near as OP as Vel'koz is in Just research. He will, however, be an exceptionally powerful swordsman, not to mention he'll git them mad style points with EQflashR ;).