After Professor Oobleck's class, Erik and Pyrrha head toward the training hall together.
There are no other students inside. The space is quiet, granting them rare privacy. The only sounds are the faint hum of the lights above and the soft echo of steel against steel.
Pyrrha moves first.
Her spear traces smooth arcs through the air, precise and controlled. Every step is measured, every strike deliberate. There is grace in her discipline, strength wrapped in elegance.
Erik watches for half a second longer than necessary.
Then he moves.
Across the room, Calibur flashes as he pivots, the longsword cutting clean lines through empty space. His style is practical, grounded-less ceremonial than Pyrrha's-but equally refined. Each motion flows into the next, steady and restrained.
Neither of them speaks.
They train side by side, separated by distance yet unconsciously synchronized. Their movements fall into the same rhythm, breaths aligning without effort.
Pyrrha slows, lowering her spear slightly as something familiar catches her attention. Erik's stance-his patience, his restraint, the way he never overextends.
"You fight like someone who knows when not to strike," she says softly.
Erik stops, resting Calibur against his shoulder. He meets her gaze.
"Overcommitting gets people hurt," he replies. "I learned that the hard way."
Pyrrha nods, understanding more than she lets on.
"That's something my instructors taught me very early."
Erik studies her now. Her grip is flawless. Her posture unshaken.
"You make it look effortless."
Pyrrha allows herself a small, almost shy smile.
"It comes from discipline... and experience."
The silence that follows is not awkward.
It lingers.
Then Pyrrha raises her shield, stepping closer than before.
"Friendly exchange?"
Erik smiles at her.
"Sure."
They move.
Steel meets steel with a clear, ringing sound. Pyrrha's spear probes with precision, testing rather than attacking. Erik responds in kind, redirecting, adjusting, matching her without overpowering.
A twist. A parry. Their weapons lock briefly, faces only inches apart. For a heartbeat, neither moves.
Pyrrha's breath catches.
Erik feels it-and steps back, breaking the moment before it goes too far.
In three movements, it ends.
They retreat at the same time.
Pyrrha exhales slowly, her heartbeat louder than the clash of steel.
"You're very hard to read," she says, though her tone is warm.
Erik offers a faint smile, eyes steady on hers.
"So are you."
Neither looks away immediately.
Eventually, they resume their training-but the space between them feels different now. Closer. Charged.
Jaune stops just outside the training hall.
At first, he only hears the sound-steel meeting steel. Clean. Controlled.
He peers inside.
Pyrrha and Erik move with effortless harmony. No shouting. No wasted motion. Just understanding. Every strike has intent. Every step carries confidence.
Jaune swallows.
For a moment, he imagines himself standing there. Not flailing. Not panicking. Just... belonging.
The thought tightens his chest.
He looks down at his hands. Heavy. Clumsy.
Quietly, Jaune turns and leaves.
What he doesn't realize is that he's been seen.
As his footsteps fade, Erik lowers his sword and raises a hand. Pyrrha stops immediately.
He steps closer to her-close enough that she can feel his presence without turning.
"What do you think of Jaune?" Erik asks.
Pyrrha considers it carefully.
"I think he's a great leader," she says. "I just don't understand how his combat experience is so low. It's almost as if he's only just begun."
Erik nods.
"You think he really graduated from a combat school?"
She shakes her head slightly.
"Based on his skill... I doubt it."
"He probably got here through unconventional means," Erik says quietly. "If he can't improve, sooner or later he'll get into serious trouble."
Pyrrha looks at him, concern evident in her eyes.
"So... should we help him?"
"I don't think he'd accept help outright," Erik replies. "I already know what kind of person Jaune is."
"Is there anything we can do?"
Erik turns to her-and smiles. Not the faint one from before, but something warmer. Trusting.
"Of course. If he won't accept help, then we make it a transaction."
Pyrrha raises an eyebrow, then smiles.
"And what do you need from me?"
"I'll talk to him," Erik says. "I just need you to help arrange our training schedule with him."
She nods without hesitation.
"That's easy," she says softly. "Leave it to me."
The Next Day
When the last of the students leave the classroom, Erik reaches out and taps Jaune's shoulder from behind.
Jaune turns around, startled.
"Oh-hey, Erik. Do you need something?"
"I do," Erik says. "I want to have a private talk with you. Let's grab lunch first and find a table where we won't be interrupted."
"Uh... sure."
They head to the cafeteria line, fill their plates, and sit at a small table tucked away in a quiet corner.
Jaune looks at him expectantly.
"So... what did you want to talk about?"
Erik rests his elbows on the table.
"Jaune, you once said you came to Beacon because you want to be a hero, right?"
"Yeah," Jaune replies. "But... what does that have to do with today?"
"Everything," Erik says calmly. "But first, I need to be honest with you. I've noticed something odd about your combat experience."
Jaune stiffens.
"It looks," Erik continues, choosing his words carefully, "like you're starting almost from scratch."
Jaune opens his mouth.
"I-I-"
Erik raises a hand.
"Relax. I'm not here to interrogate you. I don't care how you got into Beacon."
Jaune exhales in relief.
"What I do care about," Erik continues, "is that you're going to get yourself hurt if nothing changes. So I'm offering to train you for this semester."
Jaune blinks.
"...Really?"
"But," Erik adds quickly, "this isn't charity. This is a transaction. And every transaction has a price."
Jaune straightens immediately.
"Okay. That sounds ominous. What's the price?"
"First," Erik says, counting on his fingers, "you cover my Dust expenses this semester."
Jaune winces.
"...Ow."
"Second," Erik continues, "there will be times when Pyrrha and I go to Vale. I promised to show her around and visit a few places."
Jaune freezes.
"...You mean like a date?"
Erik chokes on his drink.
"W-WHAT?" He coughs, nearly knocking over his cup. "N-No! It's not a date!"
Jaune tilts his head.
"But it sounds like a date."
"It's not!" Erik insists. "I'm just giving her a tour. Like a guide. I promise her to take her around Vale when we got a chance when we first meet."
Jaune squints.
"But I thought you two were a couple."
Erik's soul visibly leaves his body.
"...What?"
"You know," Jaune continues innocently, "since you two kissed in the-"
Erik lunges forward and slams his hand over Jaune's mouth.
"SHHH!!" He panics and scans the cafeteria wildly.
Fortunately, no one is paying attention.
Erik slowly removes his hand.
"That-was-an accident," he hisses. "An accident! We are not a couple!"
Jaune rubs his cheek.
"Hey, I'm just saying-it's not only me."
Erik narrows his eyes.
"...What do you mean?"
"Everyone thinks you're dating," Jaune says casually. "My team. Team RWBY. Probably half the school."
Erik stares at him in horror.
"...You're joking."
"I'm really not."
Erik leans back in his chair, completely stunned.
After a few seconds, he shakes his head violently.
"No. No, no, no. Forget that. I'll deal with this couple things later."
He refocuses on Jaune.
"So. The offer. What do you think?"
"Give me a minute," Jaune says.
Erik nods.
Jaune looks down, mentally calculating. He thinks about Erik's Dust usage, his own monthly allowance from his family.
A minute passes.
Jaune looks up.
"...Alright. I think I can afford it."
Erik raises an eyebrow.
"You sure? I use expensive Dust you know."
Jaune gulps.
"...I'll try my best to save my money. I don't really have any big expense anyways."
Erik grins.
"Deal."
They shake hands.
Jaune smiles nervously.
"So... when do we start?"
Erik's grin widens just a little more.
"Tomorrow. I'll let Pyrrha contact you later."
Jaune's smile fades.
"...Wait, tomorrow?"
To Be continued...