Author's Note
Hi again everybody! So as you can tell by the title, this is a transitional chapter. You should easily be able to guess who's featured in this one based on the title alone, lol. This part will help lay down some solid groundwork for a certain ship we've been building up in this story. I won't spoil it for you, so without further ado... here is Chapter Ten!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball / Dragon Ball Super, RWBY, or Black Clover or any of their respective characters. The only elements I own are my original characters (OCs). The aforementioned series are owned by Akira Toriyama / Toei Animation, Rooster Teeth / Monty Oum, and Yuki Tabata / Studio Pierot respectively.

Opening: Rising Hope: Irregular at Magic Highschool
Visuals: characters of this story, same with the world too
Chapter Ten: Not as Planned - Cashing in a Debt
The dense forest stretching east of Vale possessed an ethereal quality in the early morning that it wore at no other time of day-a narrow window of light suspended between retreating darkness and full dawn. The air was cold enough to feel crisp and honest, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth while the local wildlife was still settling on its morning direction.
Amidst that quiet stillness, cold steel rang against cold steel.
Over their months at Beacon, these sparring sessions had quietly evolved into a fixed fixture of the week. They weren't strictly scheduled on any calendar; rather, they existed the way breathing did-a natural rhythm the body gravitated toward whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Odyn and Roy had been trading blows for the better part of an hour.
Sparring with someone you grew up alongside produced a entirely different caliber of fight than crossing blades with a stranger. A stranger showed you what they wanted you to see. Roy showed Odyn his absolute reflection-exposing the unconscious habits, the reflexes that triggered before conscious thought, and the subtle tells that years of shared training had branded into muscle memory. Roy could read Odyn with the exact same clarity, making any victory between them a far more complex achievement than a win against anyone else.
Today's scorecard, however, belonged entirely to Odyn. All five consecutive exchanges had gone his way.
Roy stood with his practice blade planted tip-down in the dirt, surveying the pattern of their defeat with the detached curiosity of a boy performing an honest after-action review.
"Five straight," Roy noted.
"You had me on the third," Odyn countered evenly, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow. "And you nearly caught me on the fifth. That ankle feint was a new addition."
"It was," Roy agreed. "Didn't matter. It failed."
"It will work brilliantly against an opponent who hasn't spent their entire life training with you." Odyn slid his wooden blade into the earth and rolled his sore left shoulder. "Though you're developing a distinct tell in your left foot when you're about to commit. You're shifting your weight before you finish selling the feint."
Roy glanced down at his own boots. "I wasn't aware I was doing that."
"That is typically the defining characteristic of a tell."
They clasped hands in the familiar grip they had used since childhood-thumb-locked, pressure evenly distributed, held for the precise duration that signified a productive session rather than a tense truce. Then, they stood side-by-side in the pale morning light, letting the cool breeze regulate their breathing.
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Roy asked casually.
Odyn weighed the question. "I made Ruby a promise. I still owe her a debt over the library incident."
"Does she still feel guilty about it?"
"Yes. Which is entirely the wrong direction for that sentiment to travel-neither of us did anything worth carrying guilt over-but here we are." Odyn retrieved his practice sword. "Spending some time with her seemed like the most direct remedy."
Roy was quiet for a beat. When he spoke next, his voice dropped into the careful, deliberate tone he reserved for things that genuinely mattered. "You know," he said softly, "you don't always have to frame everything around a practical resolution."
Odyn paused, turning his head.
"I'm simply observing," Roy continued, meeting his gaze. "You are allowed to just want to spend time with her. That is a completely permissible motivation on its own."
Odyn held his brother's eyes for a long moment, then turned his gaze back out toward the treeline.
"Roy."
"Yes?"
"What are your plans for today?"
"...I haven't mapped them out yet."
"Good." Odyn started walking down the trail. "If you find yourself with an excess of free time, you know where to find us."
"I do," Roy called out. "And I'll be declining."
Odyn stopped in his tracks, though he didn't turn back around. "Why?"
"Because," Roy answered, his voice steady, "two people spending time together and three people spending time together are entirely different equations. And whatever this is-" He made a vague gesture encompassing the general situation. "-it needs to be the first one."
Odyn stood still for a second.
"I don't even know what this is yet," he admitted, speaking with a sudden, uncharacteristic vulnerability-the kind that comes from accidentally telling the truth and deciding it wasn't worth taking back.
"I know," Roy said quietly. "But not knowing what something is right now doesn't mean it's nothing."
A brief silence settled over them, broken only by the forest going about its ordinary morning routine, completely indifferent to the human weight hanging in the air.
"Take your time with it," Roy added gently. "Just... be honest with yourself about it. That's all."
Odyn resumed his steady march down the path. "You have become remarkably philosophical lately."
"I have always possessed wisdom. You've simply started paying attention."
"Do not push your luck," Odyn muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a faint, reluctant smile.
Roy watched him disappear down the trail, then turned his face toward the rising sun, ready to greet the day with the patient, open-ended curiosity of a young man who had finally learned not to script every moment of his life in advance.
The Team Dormitory - An Hour Later
Roy stood before the looking glass in the boys' dormitory, methodically attending to the single grooming habit he maintained that had nothing whatsoever to do with combat or survival. He didn't care about fashion or superficial aesthetics in the traditional sense, but he cared deeply about neatness, order, and precise execution.

A/N this is Roy's alternate outfit.

A/N: and this is his normal outfit.. plus the Dragon insignia on the chest plate mentioned in an earlier chapter lol
The blue shirt. The amber shoulder pads. The teal bandana knotted neatly just beneath his hairline, styled in the classic Arkynorean tradition that signaled a young man who had officially stepped across the threshold into adulthood. The white cape fastened securely across his shoulders, carrying the quiet, unpretentious weight of a garment meant for active wear rather than idle display. He tightened his wrist bracers, checked the latch on his blade sheath, smoothed the fall of the cape, and surveyed his reflection with the brief, clinical evaluation of an artisan confirming that the final product matched the blueprint.
Then he stood alone in the quiet dormitory and considered the expanse of the day ahead.
Hailfire was spending her morning with Baron and Flare. Khanna had gravitated toward her brothers, who had journeyed to Vale for the upcoming festival and were notoriously impossible to refuse whenever they wanted to monopolize her time. Note and Beat were practically inseparable and would inevitably forge their own chaotic itinerary. Odyn was currently with Ruby. Blake remained holed up, single-mindedly tracing loose threads back to Torchwick and the White Fang, pursuing the dangerous intelligence she alone carried. Weiss and Daikon were likely locked in another grueling sparring or study session, fueled by the peculiar, high-stakes antagonism they brought to every collaborative project-a friction that, frustratingly, always yielded exceptional results.
Jaune and his team had their own schedule to manage.
Which left Roy, through a simple process of elimination, in possession of a entirely open day.
He was not particularly well-versed in open days. His entire life had been built on rigid structures-training schedules, tactical briefings, and the disciplined momentum of a daily routine anchored to a clear purpose. An unstructured day felt unsettlingly vast, much like standing in an empty room: technically functional, but profoundly disorienting.
He stepped out into the hallway and decided to walk. After all, walking imposed a physical trajectory, and direction was at least a close cousin to purpose.
Vale - The Commercial Quarter
The dust shop tucked on the corner of Portsmith Street was precisely the kind of establishment Roy had learned to identify immediately in any city-a modest storefront characterized by orderly shelves, clean, focused lighting, and the distinct, faint aroma of unrefined dust in various states of stabilization. It was the sort of place run by someone who had been in business long enough to know their craft inside and out.
The clerk behind the counter was elderly, welcoming, and entirely unfazed by the fact that Roy was neither fully human nor a Faunus. Over time, Roy had learned this reaction usually meant one of two things: either the person simply didn't care about heritage, or they had lived long enough and seen enough of the world that such distinctions had long since ceased to register as anything notable.
He strongly suspected it was the latter.
"Fire Dust," Roy stated, placing his hands lightly on the counter. "My reserves are running low."
"Blade work?" the clerk asked, glancing instinctively toward the polished hilt resting at Roy's hip.
"Yes."
"Standard grade or refined quality?"
"Quality," Roy replied. "If you have it in stock."
The clerk nodded once and shuffled toward the back room with the easy, frictionless efficiency of someone who navigated their inventory by muscle memory rather than catalog numbers. He returned a moment later carrying three small glass vials that caught the morning light, glinting with the deep, saturated crimson characteristic of high-purity Fire Dust refined well beyond standard commercial thresholds.
Roy paid the man in full. The clerk offered a polite nod of thanks, carrying the genuine weight of someone who appreciated a straightforward patron.
Stepping back out into the morning chill, Roy loaded one of the fresh vials into his weapon's core, secured the sheath, and paused for a moment to observe the bustling commercial district. Festival preparations were already underway across the city-scaffolding was rising for the massive viewing arenas, colorful banners were being unfurled, and the streets hummed with that specific, organized chaos of a metropolis gearing up for an annual celebration months in the making.
"Hey, handsome~."
Roy turned at the sound of the familiar, playful voice.
Yang Xiao Long was strolling up the street from the direction of the docks, moving with the unhurried, confident stride of someone who had a completely free morning and intended to spend every minute of it exactly as she pleased.
"Yang," he greeted evenly.
"Out all by yourself today?" she asked, smoothly falling into step beside him before he had even mapped out his next destination-possessing that uncanny knack for occupying the space right next to you before you'd even finished negotiating it.
"I am," he said. "It's an unusual circumstance."
"Funny. Me too." She shot him a sidelong, knowing grin. "And you still owe me for the other day."
"I am aware."
"Good, because here's what's going to happen." Without asking permission, she hooked her arm casually through his-not with urgency or dramatic flair, but with the breezy self-assurance of someone who had decided that was simply where her hand belonged-and gently steered them down a side street. "You are going to let me show you parts of Vale you've probably never seen, because you spend ninety percent of your life either training or playing guardian to your brother."
Roy glanced down at where her hand rested on his arm, then looked at the path they were taking, before finally meeting her eyes.
"I do not only look after my brother," he pointed out mildly.
"You are literally spending your designated free day restocking his operational supplies," she countered instantly.
Roy hesitated. "...I also required Dust."
"Did you, now?"
He mentally reviewed the vials tucked securely inside his coat. "...My supply was somewhat depleted."
"Mm-hmm." She chuckled, subtly increasing their walking pace. "Come on. Follow me."
The tavern Yang chose was not the sort of establishment Roy would have picked for himself, which was precisely why she had brought him there. She navigated the crowded floor with the comfortable familiarity of a regular who knew which corners of the bar were worth visiting, and the proprietor greeted her with the warm, easy respect reserved for good company.
They claimed a table on the second floor. It was significantly quieter up here, bathed in warm natural light from a wide window overlooking the cobblestone street below-offering a quiet vantage point removed from the noise of the main floor.
"They serve decent food here," Yang said, sliding into the seat across from him. "I know the owner. He doesn't gouge travelers on prices."
"High standards," Roy noted.
"For a tavern in Vale, that's practically a glowing Michelin star."
They placed their order with a passing waiter. Once the server departed, Roy rested his arms on the table and met Yang's gaze, noting the open, unmasked curiosity she carried.
"May I ask you something?" she said, tilting her head.
"Within reason."
Her smile turned a bit more playful. "How come your hair is bright red while your brother's is blue?"
It was not the question he had anticipated. Most people, when they finally reached a level of comfort where personal inquiries felt appropriate, started with heavier, more sensitive topics. But the casual directness struck him as quintessentially Yang-skipping the unnecessary preamble to get straight to the point.
"My mother," Roy explained calmly. "She is a Woodland Elf-a distinct lineage of Elven blood separate from the standard Arkynorean lines. Most of her immediate family carried red hair. Though my mother herself was the exception; she possessed lavender hair, which was rare even among her people." He paused, considering how best to articulate the rest. "Woodland Elves possess a strong predisposition toward foresight. In our bloodlines, that innate gift sometimes manifests through physical traits-subtly altering pigmentation. My mother's lineage is particularly potent, so the red coloration reasserted itself in me."
Yang listened with total focus, her attention sharp and genuine rather than polite. "Foresight? You mean-like seeing the future?"
"Not with absolute precision," Roy clarified, searching for the right analogy. "It is more akin to... sensing the shape of an event before it materializes. An instinctive awareness of an approach."
"Does Odyn have it?"
"Not in the way my mother did. His magical aptitude expresses itself differently-far more concentrated, elemental." Roy paused briefly. "I do not possess the foresight either. My gifts manifest elsewhere."
"Such as?"
He held her gaze. It was a thoroughly Yang-esque line of inquiry-direct, purposeful, cutting straight through social pleasantries without hesitation.
"The capacity to strike things with considerable force," he replied deadpan.
Yang let out a sudden, genuine laugh-the kind that arrived completely unscripted.
"Seriously?"
"I am oversimplifying," Roy allowed. "The point is simply that our bloodline does not replicate identically; it adapts and varies."
"Huh." She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her hand. "Do you think a human could learn to use magic? If an Elven instructor taught them?"
Roy raised an eyebrow. "That is a remarkably ambitious question."
"I am an exceptionally ambitious person."
"You certainly are," he agreed, his tone sincere enough that Yang blinked, her expression softening slightly before she offered a small, pleased smile.
"Well?"
"In theory," Roy answered carefully. "The fundamental capacity exists within all living souls-the underlying spiritual energy is a universal constant. Whether a human can successfully shape it into the disciplined forms characteristic of Elven magic is another matter entirely. It would require extraordinary dedication, years of study, and a very patient instructor."
"Would you do it?"
"Train you?"
"If I asked nicely enough."
Roy studied her across the table. She was watching him with that bright, unwavering intensity that always left him feeling slightly off-balance-a targeted focus that demanded a real, unfiltered answer.
"I would consider it," he said quietly.
Her smile widened into something bright and all-encompassing.
Before the conversation could drift further, however, the heavy footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of an unwelcome interruption.
Roy registered Cardin Winchester before the boy even spoke-recognizing the unmistakable posture of someone who manufactured arrogance to mask his own shortcomings, bringing with him the tedious exhaustion of a recurring nuisance.
"What are you doing here, freak?"
The insult landed with the casual venom of a slur used so frequently it had lost all sting, though it was no less obnoxious for it. Roy slowly set his drink down on the wooden table.
"Cardin," Roy said, his voice flat, patient, and dangerously low. "Walk away."
"I don't think I will," Cardin sneered, shifting his attention entirely toward Yang with the misplaced confidence of a bully who viewed his physical presence as an automatic advantage. "You shouldn't be wasting your time hanging around with-"
"I believe the lady made her lack of interest abundantly clear," Roy interrupted, rising smoothly to his feet.
Cardin ignored him entirely and reached out roughly toward Yang's arm.
Roy's hand moved with blurring speed. Before Cardin's fingers could close, Roy's practice blade was drawn and resting lightly against Cardin's collarbone. It wasn't pressed close enough to break skin, but it was close enough to leave zero room for argument.
"I suggest," Roy said softly, his amber eyes locked onto Cardin's widening pupils, "that you respect her boundaries and leave this establishment immediately."
The tension in the room snapped taut. Cardin had experienced Khanna's overwhelming physical strength before, and he had tasted Odyn's controlled fury. But he had never faced Roy-who possessed the terrifying, unnerving stillness of a warrior who had made a calculated decision and was executing it without a shred of performative anger.
The stark contrast was more than enough to pierce Cardin's bravado.
"This place is boring anyway," Cardin spat defensively, stumbling backward and turning on his heel with the fast retreat of a bully executing a strategic withdrawal while pretending it was entirely his choice.
Roy slid his sword back into its sheath with a soft, clean click.
Yang was staring up at him, her expression unreadable.
"My apologies," Roy said, taking his seat again. "I would have preferred to avoid a scene-"
"Don't you dare apologize," she interrupted.
Her voice sounded different-quieter than usual, stripped of its typical boisterous edge, carrying a raw, unguarded honesty. Roy looked up.
"Thank you," she murmured, gazing down at the grain of the wooden table. "I mean... I can handle guys like him on my own. But it's... different when someone steps in. Because they actually want to." She looked up, her violet eyes shining in the soft window light. "I'm not really used to people doing that for me."
Roy held her gaze steadily. Watching the subtle shift in her demeanor, he realized that Yang was far more complex beneath her bright, armored exterior than most people gave her credit for. She projected unshakeable confidence to the world, but behind that facade lay a quiet vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to see.
"You're entirely welcome," Roy said.
She offered a small, soft smile-the vibrant brightness returning, though touched now by a genuine warmth that hadn't been there before, altered by the shared honesty of the moment.
"Shall we finish our meal?" Roy asked gently.
Yang's smile widened, bright and real. "Yeah," she whispered. "Let's."
Vale - Late Afternoon
They walked.
It was the simplest possible description of what followed dinner, yet it was also the most accurate. Yang guided him through the hidden pockets of Vale she knew best-the narrow side street that opened up above the market district, offering a sweeping, unobstructed view of the coastline; the ancient, timber-scented bookshop that had stood quietly on its corner since before her father was born; and a secluded stone fountain that local legend credited with bringing good fortune, though Yang preferred it simply because she considered it aesthetically superior to the grand water feature near Beacon.
Roy observed it all. He asked questions that were precise rather than merely polite-inquiries driven by genuine curiosity rather than conversational obligation. And Yang answered with the easy, unguarding grace of someone sharing a beloved piece of her world with someone she trusted to appreciate it.
"Have you lived around here your whole life?" he asked.
"Near here. Patch-it's a small island off the coast," she said, pausing by the rim of the fountain. "My dad still lives there. He's... well, he's just good. At everything that actually matters in this life."
Roy remained silent for a moment. He understood that the phrase my father is a good person could be spoken with any number of emotional weights, but he distinctly caught the specific resonance in Yang's voice-the heavy, quiet warmth of someone who loved deeply and occasionally felt overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of that affection.
"My father," Roy said softly, "is very loud, very deliberate, and has never once exhibited a single shred of uncertainty in the thirty years I have been conscious of him."
"Thirty years?" Yang blinked, spinning around to look at him. "You're sixteen."
"Elven biology," he reminded her dryly.
She laughed, shaking her head. "Right. I keep forgetting you guys age on an entirely different timeline. Is that what it's like? Growing up knowing you'll just... be around for a very long time?"
"It changes your definition of urgency," he considered. "Most humans treat almost everything as an immediate crisis. We tend to view fewer things as urgent-but the few things we do designate as critical, we take with absolute seriousness."
"Like what?"
"Protecting the people we care about," he said evenly. "Being honest." He paused. "And not wasting time on trivial matters."
She stared at him, her violet eyes holding his.
Roy turned his gaze back to the splashing water of the fountain.
"Is this trivial?" she asked, her voice dropping a fraction.
He was quiet for a long, measured beat.
"No," he answered quietly. "It is not."
A subtle change rippled through the set of her shoulders as she looked forward again-the distinct posture of someone who had just received something significant and was actively deciding where to store it in her heart.
"Good," she murmured.
When they finally returned to the bustling square where they had crossed paths that morning, Yang stopped, turning to face him with the decisive air of someone wrapping up a chapter on her own terms.
"Your debt isn't fully paid yet, you know," she said.
"I was under the impression we had squared that account."
"You owe me another one of these."
He raised an eyebrow. "Another day like this one?"
"That's the remaining balance. One more day."
Roy held her gaze. "And what if I had already been planning on proposing one?"
"Then it's exceptionally fortunate that I'm making it mandatory," she replied with a bright, winning smirk.
To his own surprise, Roy caught himself doing something he rarely did around anyone outside his family-he smiled before he had time to suppress it.
"Noted," he said.
Yang lingered for a heartbeat longer. Then, closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around him in a brief, complete embrace. It was entirely unpretentious-devoid of performance or hidden angles, communicating precisely what it meant. Roy lifted his arms and returned the hug, finding a natural, comfortable balance in her presence.
She pulled back just enough.
Leaning in, she pressed a light, lingering kiss to his cheek. It was a gesture so physically small yet carry-over heavy with implications-simple in execution, monumental in everything else.
"Thank you for today, Roy," she said softly. "Genuinely."
Without another word, she turned and headed down the street in the direction of Beacon Academy.
Roy stood motionless on the pavement.
His fingers drifted unconsciously to the side of his face, touching the spot where her lips had brushed-moving before his brain had even caught up with the physical reality of what had just occurred.
Stud muffin, she had called him earlier-a strange human colloquialism that he fully intended to look up at the earliest available opportunity, though he strongly suspected it wouldn't clarify his rapidly complicating situation in the slightest.
The approaching footsteps of two other people broke his reverie before he could process the thought.
"Roy."
It was Ruby's voice.
He looked up to see Ruby and Odyn walking toward him from the festival grounds. Ruby wore the flushed, contemplative expression of someone returning from an outing that had gone wonderfully well but wasn't quite ready to put into words, while Odyn wore the quiet, knowing look of a brother whose predictive theories had just been violently confirmed.
"You just missed Yang," Roy noted, clearing his throat.
"We saw her heading the other way," Ruby said, tilting her head. "Did something happen? You look-"
"I am entirely fine," Roy stated quickly.
"You look profoundly confused," Odyn corrected smoothly.
"I stated that I am fine."
"He's fine, but deeply bewildered," Odyn translated, offering the kind of brotherly agreement that meant he was entirely unconvinced.
"What happened?" Ruby asked, her voice carrying that genuine, gentle concern she reserved for her inner circle-a blend of protective empathy and unvarnished curiosity.
Roy glanced at his twin. Odyn looked back with the serene patience of a boy who had delivered sage morning advice about honesty and was now front-row for the consequences.
"I do not know," Roy admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "That is the core issue. I genuinely do not know."
Ruby looked between the two of them. "Is this about Yang?"
"Yang kissed him on the cheek," Odyn supplied helpfully.
"Odyn."
"He was going to bring it up eventually."
"I was attempting to determine the appropriate pacing-"
"Ruby," Odyn interrupted, ignoring his brother. "What is your assessment?"
Ruby studied Roy with deep, serious contemplation. Then she glanced at Odyn, before returning her focus to Roy.
"I think," she said very carefully, "that Yang doesn't do things she doesn't mean."
Roy weighed her words. "She frequently insists that she is merely teasing."
"She is," Ruby agreed. "Teasing is her comfort zone. But she doesn't cross certain lines with people unless-" She cut herself off, a fleeting, knowing expression crossing her features that Odyn instantly caught and filed away. "Unless she genuinely means it," she finished softly.
Roy fell silent.
"So," he murmured, "what am I supposed to do with that information?"
Ruby and Odyn exchanged a swift, wordless glance-a two-second visual communication packed with dense, unarticulated data.
"I believe," Odyn said, "that is the exact question you must answer for yourself."
"And I think," Ruby added with a gentle smile, "that you already know the answer."
Roy looked from Ruby to his brother, and then back down the empty street where Yang had disappeared into the twilight.
"This is considerably more complicated than sparring," he muttered.
"Yes," Odyn agreed.
"Human social dynamics are significantly more unpredictable than combat opponents."
"Also yes."
"How do you manage it?"
Odyn looked out over the cobblestone street ahead. "You take it seriously," he said quietly. "You are honest with yourself. And you give it time." He paused. "That is virtually all the advice I have to offer."
"That is the exact advice you gave me this morning."
"Good advice applies broadly," Odyn noted.
Roy let out a long, slow breath. Then, with the resigned acceptance of a scholar concluding a difficult proof: "Very well. I will think about it."
"That is all anyone can ask," Ruby said.
As she spoke, Odyn noticed she carried the tone of someone who had also spent a great deal of the day pondering heavy thoughts-not yet at the final destination, but at least committed to walking the path.
He didn't voice the observation aloud.
Instead, he simply resumed walking. Ruby fell into step beside him, and Roy walked alongside them both as the festival lights of Vale flickered to life against the gathering dusk. The city hummed around them with its ordinary evening pulse, while the three of them moved in a comfortable, contemplative silence-sharing a space where quiet introspection was understood, respected, and permitted.
End of Chapter Nine
To be continued in Chapter Ten: A Minor Hiccup - Visitors from Abroad
The most useful forms of honesty are the ones we practice in solitude-the quiet admissions we whisper to ourselves long before we have the courage to voice them aloud to the world. They are rarely explosive or dramatic. Instead, they slip into our lives through ordinary moments: the lingering warmth of a hand resting on an arm, the clean satisfaction of a completed sparring session, or the quiet intimacy of walking through a city with someone who trusts you enough to show you their favorite corners.
Roy Albanar stood on a street corner in Vale, touching the side of his face, not yet fully grasping the depth of what had just changed. But he had finally stopped pretending that it meant nothing at all. And that, more than anything else, is always the first and most necessary step on the road.
Ending song: Shonen Onmyouji ending 1
Visuals: Characters of this story
Author's Note
Hey guys, (Rosesaiyan2 / Novablade67 / Novaflame6_Badal) I hope you enjoyed this little filler chapter! As you probably guessed, Yang has secretly been crushing on Roy since Chapter 1, and now it's finally starting to gain some real traction. I figured laying down this foundation for the Roy x Yang pairing was necessary so it couldn't hurt to give them some dedicated screen time. As I've stated previously, I plan on dedicating specific chapters throughout the story to flesh out each pairing, giving them genuine substance. That way, we successfully avoid that annoying trap of, "Why are these two characters suddenly in love when they have zero chemistry or reason to be?" I'll make every single pairing feel natural and earned to the absolute best of my ability.
Next chapter, we'll be jumping back into the main RWBY canon train! Don't worry, though-the story will eventually diverge from the original show's plotline down the road. I'm currently thinking the major divergence point will happen somewhere around or just after the Haven Academy / Mistral arc, sending things down a completely different, unique path.
Anyways, I'll leave you guys with one final community poll before we wrap things up:
Who will go on a "true" official date first?
Roy and Yang
Odyn and Ruby
Baron and Flare
Daikon and Weiss
Jaune and Pyrrha
Sybyrh and Tarro
Blake x [Spoiler]
Let me know your predictions in the comments, and I'll announce the winning couple in a few chapters!
Anywho, that's all for now! See ya in the next update!