["…Perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten; things that require a smaller, more honest soul."]

[An honest soul will rise you say? Over what? Injustice? Cruelty? ….Evil? ]

.

.

"So, you already know why I called you here," the man spoke, still not facing him.

Here of course being a small, dingy rental office in an abandoned building where he could practically hear the cockroaches' mating ritual and the mold growing as he breathed on the humid air.

"To be fair, it was my employer who cited me here."

Now that caught his attention as he sharply turned around. Roman got a good look at his host: It was a tall man, blond slightly spiked up hair and a prominent nose that, despite being no taller than himself, he still managed to make it seem like he was looking down on him. The man was wearing a formal purple uniform for kingdom dignitaries, but he had already shown Roman the gold and black insignia that identified him as a …coworker? Crime partner? Yeah, he liked the last one better.

"The likes of you should watch their tongue, Torchwick. After all, you are expendable," he told him with a faint sneer.

"You mean as opposed to you?" he pressed, not liking in the slightest his high-handed attitude. He relished in the way his jaw tightened, his nostrils flared slightly and his eyes now looked like slits.

.

.

["Of course not. People would think conflict is between good and evil, but real conflict is born from truth and lies."]

.

.

Still, after a few seconds, he sighed and seemed to relax again, regarding him with a wide smile that could probably fool anyone. Roman had seen his fair share of them to call the bluff.

"Why don't I introduce myself? Jean-Michel Roget at your service," he introduced, pronouncing the T of his name like an R for some reason.

"A pleasure, Roget. Now here's an idea, why don't we skip this charade and get down to business?" Roman said, already feeling himself in the need for a smoke.

His smile receded a little, but he still looked pleased with himself as he pulled out an envelope from his person and slid it across the tattered desk; the new instructions. He ought to read them, memorize them and they both had to destroy them to the last file.

Which meant he was stuck with this man for at least a couple of hours. Terrific.

.

.

[Because lies are the source of all conflict? People claim to hate lies, they claim uphold truth as one of the greatest virtues; isn't that too simple?]

.

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"Unlike you, I'm not expendable, not in the slightest," he heard all of the sudden, making him lose the thread of reading on something about a dance and a …harvest? No, that couldn't be right.

"I can wait to hear more about it," he said, rolling his eyes. He tried to find the line again about a team and cameras. "You should, I may offer you a chance to become… vital for this project," he said now facing him and showing him his scroll, shining on the screen where four girls, one of them with the same defiant face he had come to hate in the past few months.

"I'm listening."

.

.

["No, because lies hide facts, while truth helpsshine light upon them-"]

.

.

.

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[…And in turn,facts ought to hold truths, if it is natural to believe so; then….]

.

.

[…What is in a story?]

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.

-oOo-

Before he turned the handle, he had to stop a little to catch his breath. The hallway was far bigger and silent than he remembered, and it made him uneasy. Before his mission, he had never thought too much about it, but the lack of sounds, of color and of natural light made this place feel eerie.

He needed to get away from the feeling. So he ran.

.

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[…]

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[What? Don't you love stories?]

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"So you finally grace us with your presence." He heard Yuri say as soon as he entered the communications hall.

"Be nice to him. He just got out of the medical ward, right? I mean, I completed my mission without landing any injuries, but what do I know?" said another high-pitched voice, and Dennis didn't have to turn to know Sora was there.

"My apologies, although I doubt a scouting mission hardly matches an infiltration, but what do I know, right?" he countered.

His reward was, of course, Sora seething and grumbling, along with Yuri's chuckles at him. The fun, however, short lived as the light went dim and the comms screens showed the non-descriptive AI profile and all three of them took their positions.

"NOW THAT EVERYONE'S PRESENT, LET US BEGIN THE MISSION BRIEFING!" said the artificial voice that he was now so familiar with. The screen changed to start showing several instructions, diagrams, maps and some profiles of persons of interest.

Another infiltration mission; this time less… messy than the last one. Mostly about retrieving important information.

'So you can finally putitbehindyou?' He heard a voice in his head question, bringing along the tremors on his hand. The dizziness returned and his breath started to hitch. This was the worst moment for this.

.

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["Everyone loves stories. They feed their dreams and goals.They comfort the lonely nights and compel them to gather around and share…"]

.

.

Dennis was brought back by a light nudge to his ribs. Apparently he had dozed off.

"…A COPY OF ALL THE PERTINENT FILES WILL BE TRANSFERRED TO YOUR SCROLLS." Was the last thing the AI voice said before disappearing. Usually this was their cue to leave and start the planning stage, but the screen continued on for a while before their insignia appeared on the screen.

He felt a shiver down his spine at the sight of it, because it could only mean one thing…

"Now that you have all the information, there are some extra details I need to share with you," stated the slightly distorted but still human voice, which Dennis had only managed to hear in person a handful of times in his life.

"Yes sir!" he said along with the others, backs straight and proper salutation.

"This mission officially starts at stage two of the Project. You will be working from the heart of the enemy and I chose you because you are the best people out of our training program for this. You all have your own experience that will be extremely useful, but this time you will be working as a team. I trust you can uphold our mission."

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[Indeed they do …Despite the fact that they never occurred.]

.

.

He felt pride swell in his chest at the words. Yes, this was exactly what he needed, and he needed to move, focus all his energy back into the field; not be cooped up in a bed all day long.

'It's finally over.'

"Macfield, step forward." He heard.

"Yes sir."

"Your experience will be crucial for this mission, and since the doctors informed me of your restlessness, I will be assigning you as the leader. I know you won't fail me…" Such high praise only for his person, it made relief wash over him.

"Professor is too kind for giving me a chance to redeem my mistakes," he said humbling, bowing in respect.

"No need to be harsh with yourself. Yes, the subject escaped our sight before time and managed to injure you gravely…"

Ah yes, a determined little thing she was, he thought, feeling the slight tremors in his arm again.

.

.

[Because there lies the crux of the matter: Things need not have happened to become true.]

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"…but we are here thanks to your accomplishments. Remember that."

"Of course sir; may I question you about the number of people in our team? Or will there be an appointed meeting in Vale?" he asked.

After all, if they were to pose as a team, they needed a fourth member.

"I see no need to wait, and she is eager to start already," the Professor answered, and the door creaked and they all turned to see the newcomer.

And a newcomer she was. The dim lights didn't allow him to examine her features properly, but he could see she still wore the red uniform and didn't have a single badge, a high pony tail, and a ribbon. She looked eager indeed; maybe too eager. Her power, however, was palpable. The moment she entered the room, there was a shift in the environment and Dennis thought he could perceive a smell of… ozone?

"She has already been briefed extensively about the mission. Serena, step forward."

Whatever the Professor was informing this 'Serena' girl was lost to him once the light of the screen illuminated her features and brought attention to a strange glint on her wrist.

'Did you really thinkit was over,Dennis? It's not. Not even close.'

No, of course not. He was a fool for even considering it.

.

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[I'm …intrigued by how people can even take their dreams, ambitions and ideals and call them truth]

.

.

[I find this truth more fascinating than facts.]

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[Despite,or maybe because of this, stories are the truths that will endure when mere facts become dust and ashes, forgotten.]

.

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-oOo-

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[…"So, what is in a story?"]

Ozpin blinked several times before focusing again on the small person still perusing over his personal library.

"…I apologize, can you repeat that?" he requested.

She seemed a little miffed at the request, seeing as she stopped going through the pages of one of them to look at him with a pout.

"I said: what is in a story?" she repeated, punctuating the question.

"That is an odd question," he responded, trying not to sound too puzzled lest she take it on a personal level.

"Everything is an 'odd' question to you. Can you ever give me straight answers?" she snapped and closed the book harshly as if to make a point.

Really, he would take it as a compliment to perplex anyone several times older than his person, but considering her past experiences, it was probably the wrong approach.

"My apologies, Ruri, but can you elaborate further?" he requested of her.

This man was exasperating, always talking in riddles, always drinking coffee, always with that stupid melancholic face whenever he drifted over to memory land, and always, always too soft-spoken for her tastes. She could never trust him, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice. Her other choice was to come back to a little suffocating room trying to count the days as they passed,but she was stuck here as much as she was in that cell.

And Ruri had resigned to have traded a small cage, for a much ample and comfortable one, but a cage still.

"I mean, why do you have so many stories in here? I thought your personal library would have important files or information, but it's nothing but stories: myths, folktales, fables, and fairytales? Why? What can a man like yourself find in children's stories?" she finished her ramble, trying to smooth her plumage. It always ruffled when she was agitated.

"Ah, now I see. Were you curious about Beacon? Or my person? I told you I would answer all your questions," he said finally standing up from his place and nearing her.

"…" Right, because asking him questions had been so productive in the past week.

"I find them …fascinating," he finally said. "You can learn so much about people through them."

"They're just bedtime stories." That's right, only ridiculous stories to comfort kids in the night.

"Bedtime stories that people bothered to pass down from generation to generation, to immortalize in paper, engravings and art," he countered this time.

"Only because they refuse to admit they are lies. They try to make them meaningful through pointless representations," she muttered.

For a minute she thought she may have said the wrong thing because an awful silence fell. All that was heard was the constant ticking and moving screws.

"You are correct. They are still not real. No matter how much people try to bring them to life, it doesn't change that fact…."

Of course it didn't. The world didn't care for silly little stories about a bluebird who could grant wishes or a snow witch with a frozen heart.

"….But does that take their feelings away?"

"I don't understand."

"The stories are fake. People eventually realized that, but does that mean that the things they learned through them are fake too? Yes, it was all fictional, but thanks to them, they may have found something real in them. Does that become fake too? Does it make it go away?" he asked.

"I guess not," she said in slight consideration. So people could find something true about themselves even inside a lie? "But the way you say it, it sounds ….dangerous."

After all, what if people are unable to separate reality from fantasy?

"There has been that fear before; that letting something that held so much power over people continue existing. At some point, there were people bent on destroying all those forms of expression. They genuinely believed it was for the best…." he said.

"…But people refused to hand that right over and fought fiercely protecting it," she finished. The Great War only seemed to prove her point, honestly.

Or maybe more than anything, she just had more than enough of lies in her life.

"…And sometimes it's just nostalgia," he added. "I'm old, Ruri. My mind is no longer what it used to be, and sometimes it just helps me remember better times," he admitted, sipping from his mug.

She could relate to that.

"About what we talked about yesterday…" She felt her chest tighten at his words, but refused to give into the feeling just yet.

And she saw him pulling something from his vest: a bracelet.

"…It appears we have found them."

'My brother… Yuto.'

.

.

[The answer matters not, because for them that truth will always sway them more than facts…

When it suits their needs that is, and here and now to me, it does.]

-oOo-

"Bad news everyone, seems like neither Masumi, Sawatari nor Yaiba will be able to join us" said Yuzu looking at her scroll with a frown.

"What about Hokuto?" asked Reiji.

"Oh! He was never interested, he says theater has never been his thing." Said Yuya with a shrug. "Something about everyone singing being annoying."

"Tough luck let's get inside before the lobby gets to overcrowded" said Gongenzaka lookin at Reiji and his brother.

"Are you sure you will be fine? There will be a great number of people?" He heard Reiji ask to his brother.

"…Yes, I do think so," he answered almost like a whisper.

Gongenzaka could see Reiji still doubted the sentiment. Not surprising, considering how this kid in particular seemed to be a bundle of nerves made to look like a person, and per Reiji's own account he was scared of strangers, crowds and loud noises.

Vale's second biggest stage/theater may as well be synonymous for 'bear death traps'.

"Worry not, Reiji. I the man Gongenzaka will do everything in his power to assure Reira's enjoyment."

Reiji seemed to be at loss of words for a few moments. That or he was just being himself. It was hard to tell sometimes.

"I appreciate that."

In accordance to his word, he exchanged seats with Yuzu so Reira would be in between his brother and himself, when they arrived to their seats and noticed that Reira would have to sit with in the left far side, which meant strangers.

Once they finally squared away the seating arrangements, the lights went out.

The air was still with anticipation, as the different performers took their places on the stage. Or at least that's how it looked like until he noticed that they had been carrying abnormally long pieces of long fabric that flowed with their movements as if they were a mantle… of mist? No, it was snow.

And with the realization made, the scenery took form before his eyes: it was a snowy village.

The place was very dimly lit and it had remained that way even when a female performer dressed in gold, red, and orange colors that dimmed lightly in the dark started to sing about stars, her home, beauty and love.

A glowing ember in the cold, he realized, when she was holding a particularly long note.

Then a pause, and his sight was blinded by colors.

*THE FUN HAS JUST BEGUN!*

He needed a moment to blink away the slight annoyance and realized that after the flash, a curtain of colors showed the entirety of the stage. The stage was full of people, props, and the mountains resembling the snow and in the distance a dark castle.

Of course, the set up was made so that all eyes would still be fixed on the glowing performer –the protagonist – in the middle of it all, hanging from the sky.

Like a bird, glowing gold made up the flames. 'A firebird,' he realized with wonder.

"Reira? Is this to your liking?" he asked, seeing as he was now perched on the edge of his seat.

Reira didn't answer. He barely acknowledged the question, his attention completely and whole-heartedly focused on the stage.

"Is he ok?" asked Yuya from the seat farthest to his left.

"I believe so," he responded uncertainly.

"I the man Gongenzaka think he might be immersed in the story," supplied Gongenzaka from the other side of Reira.

"It's possible. After all, this is our first time seeing a live show like this," he commented. More specifically, the special effects didn't look like anything he ever saw before, not even in movies. "…Those sparks…is that…?"

"Is not Dust," responded Yuya from the extreme left. "Not exactly, anyway. It's charged and used like it, but it does nothing but create pretty effects," he explained.

Ah, yes he remembered now. Mock Dust, the ending result of a failed attempt to synthetize artificial Dust.

"I had no idea it could be used like that," he mentioned. He wasn't even aware it had made it to the market.

"No one did …except for my Dad," responded Yuya with what sounded like begrudging respect.

*SSSSSHHHHUUSSHHHHHHHHHHHH*

They all stared at Yuzu seated in between Yuya and himself, holding a finger to her lips and frowning.

"Can't you keep quiet!? I'm trying to pay attention," she admonished and turned her face back at the performance.

"But, you already know how it-" Whatever Yuya was going to say was interrupted by his choking noises, and Reiji found himself smiling at the sight of Yuzu with a handful of popcorn in her hand.

"There is more where that came from, now shush." And that was the end of it.

Afterwards, Reiji couldn't help himself to be drawn into the play. It was a rather …free adaptation of "Firebird" seeing as instead of a weaver, the protagonist was a singer and storyteller, the known to weave stories so captivating that people traveled from all around to hear her. Amongst them there were some who promised her richness, fame and power if she agreed to leave her village for good and share her talent with the world.

She refused every time, claiming that anyone with a heart to listen and a soul to understand were welcome in her village if they wanted to hear her so much, but that she could never leave her home unattended.

The most impressing feature of the setting, Reiji decided after a while, was the sheer amount of detail in it. From the scenery looking fluid and alive instead of the wooden props he was used to seeing in regular theaters, to the lighting and the costumes worn by the performers, each one different in colors, adornments and motif, and no a single one repeated itself.

But of course the center of it all was the stellar one, with her jumping around, which was very much meant to look like flight, to the mannerisms and the expressions she made with each word.

Oh, and now another twist. Clothed in a dark outfit made from the night itself – or so the song went on - a dark figure descended. Instead of the Crow King being greedy and jealous of humans, he now wanted to steal the little 'birdie' because he was enraptured by her voice reaching his castle from across the forests.

And he hated her for it, or so he claimed.

Reiji was curious about the choice to involve what looked like an obsession or sorts, a rather twisted one at that, at least until the climax of the play.

After the Firebird denied his offers – jewels, banquets, a throne next to him – a battle ensued in the middle of the stage. It was nothing looking like the real thing of course, but the graceful twists and dancing moves made them look like a whirlwind made of starts and night with them in the middle.

Of course, when the Crow King lashed his final attack which Firebird succumbed to, falling into the snow in a burst of golden flames and feathers barely embers now, the forest made its way for dark figures with red eyes.

The Creatures of the Grimm.

All of them howled into the night like a maddening song. No, not like a song, but a bloodthirsty cry. After all, Firebird's song was what kept them at bay for so long. Of course in leading the army was the Crow King.

The townspeople who had just watched their only guardian fall, hope lost and tears in their eyes, resigned at their fate.

*CRACK*

From the embers a blaze was born, and then a figure in flames walked through the crowds, bathed as if dipped in sunlight.

Then a song, a different one which carried not of heroes and monsters, or journeys, not even words, just a long wail of mourning.

"…Precisely, this is my greatest song, my last song,"

"An elegy, which shall burn my life."

As the now blazing figure was lifted into the air, the power which emanated from her was such that the light expanded and blinded everyone for a few seconds, until the figure burst into a ball of flames, sparks and feathers.

In the now silent darkness – not cold, but comforting – thousands of them, falling into the snow as if meant to have the last of its life vanished.

The Crow King stood there, alone. His army remains smoked away in the wind and he himself looking worse for wear

"I never thought a hero would ever come my way,
But more than that I never thought
you'd be taken away"

A single feather fell upon his hands; a delicate and full of light construct that should have cracked in the dark hands of the King.

"Now it's cold without you here
It's like winter lasts all year"

But it withstood, as did the others.

"But your star's still in the sky
so I won't say goodbye"

The King placed the token inside his tunic, right onto his chest and flew away to the forest.

"I don't have to say goodbye"

.

.

.

"Didn't you know? If you open your heart and listen from the soul, you may find a golden feather carrying her song."

"Or so people say. Some claim that it carries the pieces of her burned soul.Others say that she never died and that at nights you can still hear the forest murmuring her song. Others claim that the feathers were never real, and that Firebird and the Crow King never existed."

"What we do know is that since that winter, the castle fell silent, along with its dwellers, and the Creatures of the Grimm never stepped out from the forest again."

Silence.

Then a roaring ovation overtook the place. There were cheers and deafening applause, and Reiji wasn't familiar with this reaction. The awed silence was something that could be considered the highest regard an Atlas's audience could give.

But this was Vale, and what he had just witnessed deserved all that and more.

Yuzu and Gongenzaka were on their feet right now, throwing compliments and affectionate gestures in the air and even Reira looked so dazed that for once he didn't seem bothered by all the noise surrounding him.

"Wow, you gotta admit, Mr. Yusho really outdid himself this time," complimented Gongenzaka.

"Well, Miss Williams was spectacular too," added Yuzu, who turned to look at him now and giggled a bit before saying, "You should look at your face!" He felt himself shrinking a little in his seat.

"Well …It was an outstanding show," he said, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to save face, as he could feel the base of his neck warmer.

"…Thank you," he heard Reira's voice next to him.

"You should thank Yuya," he reminded him. After all, it was him who had gotten them the tickets, but when it looked like Reira was about to heed his words, his expression changed to a more nervous one again.

"…Yuya?" He heard Yuzu, but he couldn't answer. He couldn't look at her because that would mean to tear his eyes away from the stage. He also didn't need to look at himself to know why Reira and even Reiji were wearing concerned looks.

He was crying, and Yuya couldn't really help it. It really had been a beautiful play, something his Dad had poured his hearts into like he always did.

'The fun has just begun!'

"It's ok, Reira. He's not hurt or sad," reassured Gongenzaka. "He's just …overcome with emotions," he explained, and Reira seemed to take it well enough, even as they both saw Yuya's arm sneak over to Yuzu's back for a hold. He could not feel any judgement from either her or Gongenzaka.

He was always safe with them.

Aaaannddddd... It's finally here you guys!

Finally the Volume II of this story has begun its course, and with luck I'll have it done before 2018 arrives :3

What? Comments about this chapter? Other than it was freaking hard to write? Just one thing: After you read the chapter try reading the "conversation" alone, then re-read the chapter... and see if your reaction changes I guess?

I hope Yusho's show livep to the expectations ;D

Also as usual a million thanks and good wishes for AnimeGirl 144 who always manages to purge my drafts of horrographic mistakes and tolerates my typos, you are the best!