The first word that came to her mind was "dirty". The boy across from her looked like he hadn't bathed in... months, with his blonde hair caked with mud and haphazardly cut in a manner that reminded her of a bird's nest. Despite that, he held himself with a sort of conviction, back straight and eyes boring into hers from across the arena.

This would be her second time competing, defending her title as "The Invincible Girl" and bringing her family's name out of disrepair. The Nikos family had fell out of favor with the council years ago, their one claim to fame the occasional extraordinary huntress or huntsman. Pyrrha was different, even compared to them she stood out, a page already earmarked for her story in the Nikos family library. Heavy expectations, when she had only marginally won the last competition.

She had trained, of course, with the best of the best. Her father had spent every last connection he had towards making her a one in a million warrior. The future of her lineage was riding on her, it drove her to long nights in the training room, hours spent pouring over every combat technique and sword style. She didn't have much of a life out of fighting, and a part of her had given into that.

This one was different, he came from no wealth. No family. His armor was scrap metal, what looked like spare sheets of junk and old road signs molded to his body, not crafted by genius blacksmiths like hers was. His weapons, if they could be called that, mirrored the same rugged, underdog aesthetic, his claim to fame? The banner he marched under? In the boy's right hand he held a clever-like weapon, no point to speak of with a single edge to it, straight and thin. In his other hand a triangular road sign, the words "YIELD" emboldened in white against the red surface.

These were the preliminaries, where the best combatants could get their moments to shine. It was, in Pyrrha's opinion, rather unfair for those who were paired up against the family favorites. All the clans of Mistral had heirs and exemplary members, and the Mistral Regional Tournament was a great way to show them off, their powers and their skills. It made them desirable, cemented their place in the public which doubled as a show of force to the other families.

Petty grandstanding, but the kind she had gotten used to a long time ago.

With a small sigh, she couldn't help but feel this was unfair. Her semblance, while lacking in fine precision, basically rendered any combatant who used metal armor or weapons handicapped against her. More than that, it was obvious he was a stray, someone who had been booted onto the street and hoped that the tournament could bring them sponsors, job opportunities.

Destiny wasn't so kind then, that this one would be paired against her. Even so, she would do her best to give him a fair fight, to honor his commitment to battle her so long as he did the same. With a slightly strained smile, she bowed. "It's nice to meet you."

The crowd was beginning to clamor, a dust-empowered shield keeping everything within the ring temporarily opaque to the outside. The announcers, her family, and the staff were obviously listening, but this was their one moment to speak. Soon, the lights would come up and they'd be enemies, and any chance of talking would go out of the window.

"Y-Yes, nice to meet you to," the startled reaction and awkward tone made it sound like he hadn't spoken to anyone for awhile. "You're... Pyrrha Nikos, yes?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

"Jaune."

She waited for him to state his last name, and frowned when it didn't come. Was he not from Mistral? Or, worse, had his family actually stripped him off his surname? Family names were a pretty big deal in Mistral, the fact that he didn't give her one was either an insult, an accident, or because he lacked one. Given his state of dress...

Pyrrha did feel genuinely sorry for the young warrior, but she was fighting for her own reasons. She wouldn't be one to disparage his cause or why he was fighting, but she wouldn't bow to it so easily.

"I hope we have a good match then," Pyrrha smiled.

"Yes, thank you."

Again, unsure of what to say. He glanced around, feeling the heat of the spotlight on top of him. The sun was up, a perfectly blue sky visible behind a ring of glass high above the coliseum. One couldn't have asked for better weather, and from the packed stadium seats and constant ads being played on the large screens that dotted the structure's cardinal points, Pyrrha got the sense that the gods were giving this to her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fourty-fourth annual Mistral Regional Tournament!" the announcer paused for the crowd's cheers. "Fighting for the glory of Mistral the returning champion: Pyrrha Nikos!"

The cheers were so thunderous that they rocked the stadium; made her organs shake from the reverberations.

"Fighting under his own banner: Jaune the Vagabond!"

The cheers were decidedly more muted, but even her most loyal fans liked watching some poor sap being turned into a chew toy. Still, "vagabond" had been an odd surtitle, one he had given up in lieu of a last name? She watched Jaune ready himself, bending his knees and readying his makeshift weapons.

Her warrior's eye picked up on his stance, practiced if amateurish. He had his feet planted right, but he kept most of his weight on the back foot, bracing as if he was facing down an opponent twice his size. Was he expecting her to rush him out of the gate? It had been a favored tactic when she hadn't known anything better, but she had gotten stronger since then.

Shield first, sword poised behind it. A defensive fighter, that might explain his stance. Her sword shifted into a spear, resting upon a small indent in her shield, designed to give her gun something to brace against. But she had figured out different uses.

"3..."

The crowd counted down in unison.

"2..."

Jaune, for all his awkwardness, looked ready.

"1..."

She had to win this, had to.

"Begin!"

With a flick her speared fired forward, propelled by a blast at the end of its shaft. It punched into his yield sign, the boy barely able to raise it in time to block the strike that would've gotten him square in the jugular. She expected some pushback, a short interlock of brawn against brawn, but stopped short when she found her spear rebounding off the shield's surface. For a split second, she got the sense that she was trying to carve into a mountain, before reflexes kicked in and she flipped over a wide swing from the man's sword.

He pulled back and when for an overhead, unpolished with too much heft behind it. A simple parry with her shield would put him off balance, and she'd strike with her spear's longer range. Her shield went up, catching the strike as she readied her counter-attack. It stopped short, however, when the weight behind her opponent's strike damn near sent her sinking into the ground.

Her knees began to buckle, saved only by her brace beforehand. Despite the blade's thinness and it's undoubted deft, it felt like someone had just slammed her with a steel girder. The ground beneath her cracked, aura flooding her muscles as she pushed back against the strike. The crowd roared in approval, excited at the sudden upset from the underdog.

Falling back on her previous plan, she put her all into a forward thrust that caught him in an unprotected area between a pauldron and his bracers. With a wince, he jumped back and the pressure let off. He recovered quickly, and with a high-pitched squeak of sneakers on tile he lunged forward with a swing that had all of his weight behind it.

She ducked underneath it, wary of a trying to tank another blow. His semblance? Some kind of weight or mass alteration? Whatever the case, she wouldn't be able to block blows of that magnitude reliably, and she certainly wouldn't be able to recover from one if it hit her in an unprotected area. She leapt forth, forcing him to stay on the defensive with a series of spear-turned-sword slashes that scraped against his shield.

It drew sparks, but not even a shallow scratch as she landed. With a spin, her heel connected with his unarmored head and sent him tumbling to the ground. He managed to roll enough to get back on his feet, but she was on top of him in an instant. Her sword stabbed into his center mass, and once more she felt that indomitable presence as the sword's tip halted immediately upon hitting him. It didn't matter, though, as she shifted the sword into her rifle, firing off three rounds in short succession.

He grunted, driven back by the force of the blow for all that he seemed unaffected by it. She lunged forward, swinging the blade in several short arcs that were too fast for him to block with his sword. Instead, he simply tanked them with his shield and armor, protecting his head and vitals but robbing him of his visibility. There was something off in his style as he slammed a foot down, the tile cracking beneath the force of it.

An animal, he fights like he's warding off some kind of animal, the realization was dim in the back of her mind.

He had experience fighting, sure, but not against any human opponents. Grimm maybe, given that he seemed surprised at her speed and finesse, and the way he simply lobbed his sword around. The mindless monsters of Remnant were dangerous opponents in themselves, but very few of them were capable of reasoned battle, even the most intelligent of them had displayed, at best, a feral sort of cunning. Fighting people was different, people constantly reacted and strategized, falling back on old skills and knowledge to defeat their opponents.

The cracked tile around him made her footing uneven, but even so she couldn't let him try and attack. Running forward, she used her shield's indent to brace her rifle, firing off a few shots that Jaune easily caught with his shield. He swung low, in a diagonal, upwards arc that caught her by surprise and managed to scrape her breastplate.

The effect was profound, the force of the blow sending her pinwheeling away. Her aura sparked where it had taken the blow, red light hissing across her abdomen as Pyrrha landed in a three-point stance. He reared back as if sending a swing her way, and she saw how his sword rippled, Pyrrha's instincts forcing her to dodge before he even completed the slash. The sword warped, extending and morphing into something disturbingly like the steel girder she had imagined earlier.

It was blunt, more of a massive club than anything like his sword had been. Even so, it's massive size allowed her to see it coming and she leapt over it, landing on the edge and bringing it to the ground. It wasn't there for more than a moment before Jaune reared back, catapulting her into the air where her sword shifted back into a rifle. His cleaver turned back to normal, just in time for it to hide behind his shield as he blocked the staccato of rifle shots.

Pyrrha smashed downward, landing on his shield as her rifle extended into a speared and jammed into his collarbone. White light sparked, and she heard him cry out in pain as she tucked and rolled over him. She reached out with her semblance, grasping onto the shield and nudging it to the right, just wide enough to give her sword an opening where it clipped his chin.

He bellowed, going in for a shield bash using one of the sign's triangular endpoints as his spearhead. Once more, she forced it up a bit, enough to give her an extra inch or two to slide under and between his legs. She wasn't so crass as to attack his unmentionables, but Pyrrha did have no problem hamstringing his thighs with a pair of slashes that brought the warrior low.

Even with the pain, Pyrrha was surprised at the speed of his counter. Forcing himself through what must've been quite the sharp sting, he kicked out with a muddy sneaker and caught her directly in the chest. Her aura flashed, metal breastplate shrieking as the force of being hit by a bullhead sent her tumbling a good thirty feet across the ring. The crowd gave a massive gasp, in time with a cheer of victory from some of her family's staunchest detractors. In the stands, she could see her father's worried face, lines of stress creasing his already worn features.

A shadow fell over her, and she narrowly avoided the girder again. The ground split, a massive fissure carving through steel and ceramic alike as Jaune pulled the weapon back. He advanced at a slower, but steady pace, like a linebacker moving into to plow his competition into the dirt. However much the power was behind it, Pyrrha could see the imperfections in the charge. Too much top heaviness, not enough attention paid to his footwork. He wasn't a mobile fighter, preferring to tank hits and wait for an opening to strike.

That would work for her, she lunged forward jumping high and raising her spear. He raised his shield in response, sword twitching and ready to give her a nasty slash once he blocked it.

She smiled to herself, pulling the trigger at the same moment she nudged the shield a bit off center. The momentum of the shot took her down to the floor, spear turning into rifle as she crashed onto the arena and slid between his legs. The rifle came up, pointed at his unprotected chin.

She pulled the trigger.

The round pinged off his aura, but it proved to be too much. Her rifle could punch through the bone plating of Deathstalkers, could clip the wings of a Nevermore at more than a thousand feet, it could deal plenty of damage to someone's aura at point blank. Jaune's head snapped back with enough force that it rebounded, bringing chin to chestplate as he teetered.

The crowd went silent as Jaune tried to catch himself. The sword went out, trying to brace against the floor, but his foot caught a broken tile wrong and robbed him of his balance. She watched with only a small wince as his sword cleaved a small path in the floor, the rest of him smashing onto the ground with a resounding clang of metal. The crowd roared its approval, and she could almost hear the sigh of relief from her father as the announcer's voice filtered through.

"What a match folks! Our Invincible Girls wins again, can we get a round of applause for our competitors!?" the stadium's thunderous clapping seemed so distant as the medics came out.

She watched them cart him off, a mixed feeling blooming in her chest.

0-0-0-0

"A toast, to our invincible girl!" her dad crowed, raising a glass.

She raised her own, clinking them against the rest of her family's. The after party was in full swing, notable faces belonging to different families mingled around the Nikos's large guest room. Soft music accompanied the din of voices as various heirs and wealthy socialites chatted each other up, the families of Mistral had come out in force to "congratulate" her.

For some, that was a honest statement. Allies both old and new, forged by old blood oaths and opportunistic business deals passed by every so often. Their children either at or around her age, the parents "mysteriously" stepping away to give her a moment to speak with them. Maybe not a big deal now, but by the time she was graduating her hunter's school it would matter. The faces and names she knew, the folks who owed her favors.

An IOU was worth its weight in gold in Mistral, and it looked like she would have plenty of those in a few years time. She stepped away from the small cluster of cousins, uncles, and aunts, her brother following alongside her. Xenophon was two years younger, although he seemed to have inherited their grandfather's face, making him seem a few years older. His bright red hair gelled back behind his ears, he nudged her with his elbow.

"Not bad out there, but that guy sure kicked the shit out of you," he snickered.

"Isn't this supposed to be my special day? Do I need to sic my fans on you?" she asked, nudging him back with a half-hearted glare. "Besides, you knew I was going to win. I am the 'invincible girl' after all."

"Don't sound too excited their Pyr, you'll give yourself a heart attack."

She turned away, it wasn't like she despised the title. It was a bit overzealous in her own opinion, but hype and marketing went a long way when it came to the tournament business. Brand recognition, and what better brand for a gladiator than invincibility? Although she had heard the snide whispering of her detractors, talking about some street urchin almost besting her.

Beyond everything else, she felt offended on Jaune's behalf. Their battle had been true, both sides doing everything they could to win. Reducing it to a scuffle with a so-called "street urchin" insulted her opponent's honor. Even so, she knew better than to make a scene and simply took the higher road. She mingled with the guests, giving polite waves to friendly acquaintances, and occasionally being taken aside to speak with some handsome heir to a family name or a business. It was all par for the course, a routine she had gotten used to.

"Don't look now, but we may have an interloper," Xenophon nodded to the door's leading into the manor. Two guards seem to be arguing with someone just outside her line of sight.

Figuring she had nothing better to do, she went to take a peek.

"Fifty lien says it's some rabid fan trying to steal your dirty clothes."

"Ew, Xenophon, shut up," she replied offhandedly, ignoring his snickering as she tried to get a look.

"Look, I don't care if he's your 'guest of honor' he's not on the list, so he doesn't get in!" one guard snapped.

"Dear sir, isn't that too harsh?" a familiar voice asked, almost mockingly. "This man has come a long way to pay his respects to the reigning champion."

"Do you see his name on the list? Last I checked I haven't become illiterate, so he can hit the bricks!"

She turned the corner, arms folded. "Is everything alright?"

The two guards snapped to attention, stammering for a moment. "M-Ms. Nikos, our apologies, this is just a slight disagreement-"

"Ah! Pyrrha, you grow bigger everyday!" her maternal grandfather waltzed inside. Her mom had been from a minor family when she married dad, a bid to raise both their stations that had, by all accounts, worked somewhat. Pyrrha's grandfather hadn't been ecstatic, but for all that he didn't seem to like her father he adored Pyrrha and Xenophon.

He was dressed in rich blues, a designer suit that exposed far too much of his chest accompanied by a light blue scarf. He had always been a fashionista of sorts, and had been the one to draw up the designs of her armor. Dusting himself off, he gave her a kiss on the top of her head and brought Xenophon into a tight, one-armed hug.

"I've missed my babies, how are you?"

"Mr. Kassotis, please, we cannot invite ruffians such as him into this party? It would offend the senses of the other partygoers."

Her grandfather ignored them, stepping back with a sly smile. "I have someone to introduce, but I think you're already met."

He pushed aside the guards and motioned for someone to step inside, the clank of armor heralding the appearance of her former opponent. Jaune stepped inside, looking distinctly uncomfortable from the way he seemed to fold in on himself. He fiddled with his hands, ignoring the lukewarm glares the guards directed to her grandfather as he pulled the young gladiator forward.

"This is Jaune, Jaune these are my grandchildren Pyrrha and Xenophon."

"A pleasure to meet you, you fight well," Xenophon raised his champagne glass.

Jaune cringed in response, unable to get any words out at the polite gesture. After a beat of silence, Xenophon's composure broke and he chuckled. "Come on man, I'm fucking with you. Seriously though, good fight."

"Thanks... thank you," he frowned, his tone unsure. As if testing out every word. "Thanks?"

"That is how you generally respond to a compliment, yes."

Jaune perked up, seeming to take the sarcastic quip as a genuine reassurance. Pyrrha stepped closer, cutting off her brother's sarcasm and another response from the guards. "I'll handle things from here, thank you."

They looked unsure, but didn't want to contradict her. Begrudgingly, they shut the door and gave the blonde vagabound a hesitant nod. Jaune shivered, still dressed in his scrap metal armor and still caked in filth. She opted to give him an apologetic smile, quite familiar at being awkward with people.

"Please, Jaune, let me show you around the party," she offered.

"Yes, and I do need to speak with your mother. I believe this young man has earned a shower for his excellent display of martial prowess?"

Jaune paled, and the guards looked at her grandfather as if he had just grown another head. "W-What?"

"A shower, dear boy, lord knows it seems you've forgotten what those are."

"P-Please, I-I can't be a bigger problem to you I..." Jaune shivered again, cringing.

He looked terrified, now that Pyrrha thought of it. Like someone would pop out of nowhere to stab him in the back if he let his guard down, accentuated by the hallowed look on his face. In the light of the party, she noticed how gaunt he was, features slim and narrow with malnutrition. Had he actual been homeless? And if so, for how long had he simply roamed around?

Pity welled up inside her, but Xenophon was quicker on the uptake. "I am all for letting a homeless dude use our shower!"

Pyrrha's hand was swift to smack him upside the head, offering the young man another smile.

"Apologies for him, he's from the kennel-"

"Woof."

"-Please, let me show you around. We have quite the spread for you to enjoy!"

"S-Spread...?"

"Food, my sister means food. Sustenance, nutrition, sweet nectar of the gods! Can I get a hallelujah!?"

Hoping to spare the already frazzled warrior, Pyrrha lead him by the hand to the banquet table. An assortment of meats, fruits, baked goods, and culinary delights lined the table from wall to wall. Jaune looked momentarily taken aback, as if the moment he touched the food an alarm would sound and he'd be thrown out in the cold. She took her own plate, then offered him one as well, picking some food up for herself to make him more comfortable.

Slowly, he picked up some stuff of his own. The Mistrali champion couldn't help but giggle slightly as he went straight to the sweet things, marveling at their taste before piling up his plate with more.

He's like a kid, she thought amusingly. A kid who can knock me thirty feet across an arena.

She guided him over to a table where Xenophon and her grandfather sat, talking to each other about some game they both enjoyed. As they sat down, her brother's instantly switched to speaking with Jaune. "So, Jaune, where're you from?"

Pyrrha glanced around, noting the many - and some disapproving - stares that they had garnered. Most were dressed in their finest clothes, suits and dresses that cost more than some people make in a year. To contrast, Jaune was a filthy young man decked out in scrap metal armor, which seemed to scrape and clang with every moment he made. Pyrrha caught her father's eye and saw the worried, confused question in it, but she could do in response was simply smile and nod.

"Uh... I come from, uh, like this village. In the woods."

"Telling," her grandfather quipped. "Where in the country?"

"Okay, so, like, if we're here then..." he trailed over, using his fingers to mark two points on what might've been a map of Mistral. Working backwards, she found that he must've been near the coastline.

"Oh, you're from the coast?"

"Near it, I think, I've seen water before."

Xenophon laughed. "Really now? So you got family?"

Pyrrha's smile was strained as she leaned back to kick her brother in the shin, glaring at him for his uncouth question. No family crest, no sponsors, no surname, whatever his family situation was it wasn't good. Jaune, however, didn't seem to mind it and just shook his head.

"Not really. In my village I was like a, uh... what's the thing where it belongs to everyone?"

"...Communal?" her grandfather ventured.

"Yeah, that's it! I was like the communal child!" at their odd looks, he cringed and continued his explanation. "I-I mean, everyone raised me. My mom, like my real mom, was... oh, uh, what's the person who goes on dates for money?"

"Prostitute?" Xenophon earned a second, even harder shin kick.

"Yeah, that's it!" Jaune snapped his fingers, oblivious to Pyrrha's aghast look. "My dad was like this awesome, cool huntsman who visited town like years ago! My mom always told me how awesome he was, so I figured he must be like a hunter in this big city!"

"I... see," her grandfather nodded.

It wasn't uncommon for hunters to... find company, while out on their missions. But it was generally something that wasn't looked at too closely, taken as a part of the lifestyle and the job for the bachelors and bachelorettes who protected humanity. Pyrrha couldn't help but feel the awkward tension in the air as she played with her food, getting a lot more of Jaune's personal history than she bargained for.

"So you're looking for your dad? What's his name?"

"I don't know his last name, he only ever went by 'Nick' or 'Nicholas' when he was with my mother. Never said where he was going either."

Her grandfather frowned. "I still have some friends in the academy, I could take a look at any reports that were in the area... fifteen years ago?"

He phrased it like a question, probably uncertain of how old Jaune was, but at the boy's enthused nod he smiled. Pyrrha couldn't help but find it odd, her grandfather was a kind mind, yes, but he rarely gave out help for free. Although, perhaps given that Jaune had almost knocked her clear across the arena, he thought that getting in good with the young man might be of some use.

Her father came over, a plastic smile on his face. "So, who's this?"

"Ah, father, this is Jaune, the man I competed with today," she introduced them. "Jaune this is my dad, Sir Aurelio Nikos."

"Nice to meet you sir."

"Sir! I'm glad you have some manners," her dad coughed as he realized his abrupt comment. "Apologies we... hadn't been expecting you."

She didn't miss the glare he gave to her grandfather, nor did she miss how he studiously ignored it.

"Pyrrha invited me in."

"Did she? Well... thank you for coming."

"Which reminds me!" her grandfather boomed. "I've offered him the use of one of your many showers so he can get cleaned up. It would be an affront to all things stylish if I let him muck about like that."

The glass in her father's hand creaked ominously under his grip. "Is that... so? I see, well, I wouldn't want to be unhospitable. Please, may we talk a moment, Anabasis?"

Her grandfather shrugged and stood, walking away with her father. Xenophon chuckled and tugged on Jaune's armor. She noticed that he had finished his plate, and had begun picking at some of the food on her own. As she slid it towards him, he gratefully devoured the bits of meat and fruit, listening to her brother as he wrapped an arm around him.

"Welcome to the Nikos family, new brother-in-law."

Pyrrha choked.