[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
Weiss drew Myrtenaster in a crisp, elegant flourish. The revolving chamber clicked smoothly, locking a vial of cyan Dust into place as a thin frost crystallized along the slender blade. She dropped into a classic duelist's stance—torso angled away, rapier extended forward like an unyielding needle.
"Standard sparring regulations," Weiss announced, her pale blue eyes locking onto mine with sharp precision. "First to yield or redline."
"Works for me," I said.
I slid my hands from my pockets, flicking both butterfly knives into a low reverse grip, and sank into a swaying, evasive posture.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Schnee."
Weiss struck instantly.
A circular white glyph detonated beneath her heel with a sharp crack, launching her forward at blinding speed. Myrtenaster became a silver streak, unleashing a blistering three-hit combination aimed directly at my chest and shoulder.
I swayed backward on the balls of my feet, letting the first thrust graze through the air a millimeter from my collar. The second stab whistled past my cheek. On the third, I pivoted hard to the right, the flat edge of my left knife slapping the side of her rapier to deflect the force into the mat.
Weiss didn't overcommit. The moment her blade was guided away, she spun on the ball of her foot, tapping Myrtenaster's trigger. A burst of icy wind erupted from the guard, crystallizing into a dozen jagged icicles suspended in mid-air around her.
"Scatter!" she commanded.
The ice shards shot forward like flecks of shrapnel. Simultaneously, a dark, heavy glyph flared to life directly beneath my boots, dragging down on my limbs with intense gravitational pressure.
Clang
clang
clang!
Instead of struggling against the gravity field, I dropped to one knee and flicked my right wrist forward. An Ouroboros chain burst from my sleeve in a hiss of sickly green energy, its snake-headed anchor biting deep into the reinforced ceiling rafter overhead.
I yanked the chain taut. The sudden upward pull tore me clean out of the gravity trap, hoisting my body into the air just as the volley of ice pulverized the mat where I'd been kneeling.
While still suspended mid-arc, I twisted my torso and hurled a second chain downward. The green links snaked past Weiss's guard, the stylized jaws clamping onto the hilt of a nearby sparring dummy behind her.
"What—?!" Weiss gasped, looking up.
I released the ceiling anchor, pulled hard on the floor chain, and converted all that falling momentum into a horizontal dive. I skimmed along the floor in a low, sliding tackle. Weiss reacted with textbook discipline, conjuring an acceleration glyph under her boots to vault backward and create distance, her rapier cocked back for a counter-thrust the moment I touched down.
That was exactly what I was waiting for.
As I skidded past her original position, my second chain whipped violently sideways, latching around her trailing ankle mid-jump. With a sharp tug, I threw off her aerial trajectory. Her backflip lost its momentum, forcing her to land awkwardly on one foot.
To her credit, she recovered fast. Even off-balance, Weiss slashed downward in a desperate, defensive cross-strike with Myrtenaster, the blade glowing with concentrated frost.
I didn't back off. I ducked straight under the freezing arc, feeling the chill brush against my green bangs.
Before she could reset her guard, my left hand shot out like a striking viper and clamped iron-tight around her weapon wrist, stopping her sword-arm dead in its tracks. In one continuous, fluid pivot, I stepped directly into her blind spot, slid behind her back, and wrenched her captured arm across her waist.
My right arm wrapped securely around her torso, pulling her flush against my chest and locking her shoulder in an inescapable submission hold. The dull handle of my folded butterfly knife rested gently, unmistakably, against the side of her neck.
Total immobilization.
"Checkmate," I murmured calmly right by her ear.
The fighting stopped.
The immediate silence in the training hall was deafening.
In Remnant's female-dominated society, having a guy boldly shatter her guard, manhandle her into a full-body pin, and press her tightly against his chest from behind wasn't just a loss... it was a miracle.
Weiss went completely rigid. Her pale blue eyes widened into massive saucers, her breath hitching in a tiny, choked squeak. Within two seconds flat, a thermonuclear blush detonated across her face, burning an incandescent crimson from the bridge of her nose all the way down to her collarbones.
The arena monitor let out a sharp buzz, registering the checkmate as an automatic redline victory.
Weiss frantically tapped my arm with her free hand.
I let go instantly, taking two polite steps back while letting the butterfly knives vanish into my sleeves. "Good match. Your glyph transitions and projectile setups are insane. If I hadn't used the rafters to dodge that gravity trap, I would've been turned into a pincushion."
Weiss clutched Myrtenaster against her chest like a shield, her knees practically knocking together as she struggled to smooth down her combat skirt. She stared fixedly at the floor, completely incapable of making eye contact.
"Y-Yes... well... your close-quarters tactics were... acceptable!" she stammered, her voice pitched an octave higher than normal as steam practically drifted from her ears.
From the edge of the mat, Yang's eyes widened with unadulterated, predatory glee. She cracked her knuckles, a massive, shameless grin spreading across her face as she boldly sauntered onto the ring.
"Oh, hell yeah," Yang declared, looking me up and down with open enthusiasm. "Dibs! I'm next! You can pin me from behind anytime you want, handso—"
A violent cyclone of red rose petals detonated across the gym floor.
Ruby Rose launched herself horizontally through the air like a guided missile, both combat boots cocked back and aimed directly at her sister's ribs with terrifying, righteous fury.
"ANTI-HORNY DROP-KICK!!!" Ruby shrieked at the top of her lungs.
WHAM!
The double-boot impact echoed through the hall like a thunderclap.
『Ruby Rose's Secret Technique: The Anti-Horny Drop-Kick. A desperate, unrefined self-defense maneuver developed entirely on instinct to preserve familial decency. By channeling pure adolescent mortification directly into the soles of both boots, the user completely purges all impure thoughts from the target's mind via concussive blunt-force trauma. Effective range: Immediate family members possessing zero shame.』
Yang folded in half like a cheap lawn chair, letting out a wheezing "GUUUUUH" as she skidded ten feet across the polished floorboards on her side.
Ruby stuck a crisp three-point superhero landing, huffing furiously with her hood flapping and her cheeks glowing red as she pointed an accusing finger at her groaning sister.
Blake quietly closed her book with a soft snap, tucking it under her arm as she walked over to where I was standing near the edge of the ring.
Across the floor, Ruby was still furiously berating Yang, who was slowly groaning and rubbing her ribs.
"Are they... usually like this?" I asked, watching Ruby wave her hands around in frantic circles.
"Any time a guy is brought up," Blake replied, her voice completely deadpan. "Or when one enters the room. Or when Yang simply remembers they exist."
I scratched the back of my neck, genuinely puzzled. "I don't really get it. You'd think it'd be pretty easy for Yang to find a boyfriend. She's confident, outgoing, and definitely doesn't blend into a crowd."
Blake turned to me, looking mildly surprised. "Easy? Most boys in the kingdoms prefer girls with smaller, more delicate chests. It's considered far more graceful and modest. A larger bust is usually seen as... overly imposing."
I stared at her for a second, my brain short-circuiting as Remnant's backwards beauty standards slapped me in the face once again. "Wait, really? Even still, she's got a really pretty face, great hair, and an athletic build. That has to count for something."
"You're not wrong," Blake admitted, casting a sidelong glance toward her partner. "Her looks aren't the problem. It's her attitude. She tries way too hard. She's loud, overbearing, and practically corners guys to hit on them first meeting."
'Did that happen with me?' I thought trying to recall our first meeting but... i got nothing.
"Yeah... fair point," I chuckled. "Desperation usually scares people off." I paused, glancing curiously at her. "How do you already have all this figured out, anyway?"
Blake let out a tired sigh, her black bow twitching slightly. "It's not hard to pick up on when your partner acts like a literal predator for a boyfriend every time an attractive guy breathes in her general vicinity."
I laughed. "Fair enough. What about you, then? Any plans on that front?"
"Me?" Blake looked away, resting a hand on Gambol Shroud's hilt with utter indifference. "I don't really care. I don't have any hopes of getting a boyfriend anytime soon."
"Why not?"
"Because I wouldn't even know where to begin," she said quietly, her eyes distant. "I don't know what guys actually like, what they look for, or how a date is even supposed to go without it being completely awkward. Yang is way too enthusiastic about it, and I'm just not."
Before I could answer, Yang finally managed to push herself up from the floor. She shook her golden hair back into place, planted her hands on her hips, and shot Ruby an insufferably smug grin.
"Oh, please, little sis!" Yang teased, completely unbothered. "You're just throwing a fit because I already scored a prime lap pillow from Katsuya earlier! And if you hadn't interrupted, I could've done way more than that~"
Ruby froze.
The air in the training hall turned pitch black.
A shadowy, terrifying aura flared around Ruby as she dropped her head, her silver eyes glowing with unhinged sisterly fury.
FWOOSH.
A crimson explosion of rose petals tore across the floor. In a fraction of a second, Ruby flashed right into Yang's personal space. Dropping low on one knee, Ruby spun a full, blistering 360 degrees on her heel, gathering violent centrifugal momentum before uncorking a rising, tornado-like uppercut straight into Yang's chin.
> 『Ruby Rose's Secret Technique: Cheeseburger Tornado. A lethal, rotational anti-family strike adapted on pure adolescent impulse. By pivoting a full 360 degrees to channel torque directly into a rising fist, the user thoroughly scrambles the target's brainwaves and forcibly purges all impure romantic delusions via concussive vertical lift.』
>
"GET A BOYFRIEND, YOU BUM!!!" Ruby roared.
KRA-POW!
The upward blast launched Yang cleanly off her feet, sending her spiraling twenty feet into the air before she crashed down into a massive stack of gym mats with a muffled THUD.
I stood there, watching the dust settle around Yang's twitching boots, and began thinking.
A sudden idea clicked, and I snapped my fingers.
I turned back to Blake, who was staring in stunned silence at the crater of mats where her partner was currently buried upside-down.
"Tell you what," I said with an easy smile. "On a day off, I could be your practice date. We can go out, I'll give you an idea of what guys actually like and how things work, and that way you won't have to stress about it whenever you decide to look for someone for real."