Chapter 20: Husk

FROM THE ASHES, I COMMAND THIS FIC, RISE!

Yo, been a while. Lot of stuff has happened since. For the real world and for me. But you don't care about that, you want to know about this fic!

So, I've done an edit on every chapter of this fic. Around 15k got cut from the total word count. Some stuff is completely new, most stuff is just polished. Overall, none of the main story beats have changed, except for the end of Chapter 19. Otherwise, everything is basically the same with minor tweaks. You may be confused at some detail changes, but I'll post what I can think of that has changed right now if you don't feel like giving the fic a re-read. I might not catch everything though.

Changes List

- Yang's 'arc' and relationship with Taylor is completely different. None of that 'forced conflict between them' bullshit. It really wasn't in-line with Yang's character. Now, Yang's struggles are more about trying to deal with not being needed. She's angry with herself for not being able to help Blake, frustrated with Blake because Yang doesn't really understand the situation so she doesn't know how to help. But Taylor was able to help Blake when Yang couldn't, which Yang appreciates and resents.

- Ruby and Taylor's earlier friendship is dead, I killed it. When Taylor realizes she should accept her life in Remnant and let the people around her closer, then they become friends.

- Taylor has more agency in her decision to go to Beacon. It's more like a lifeline for her to 'redeem' herself and keep helping people. Maybe a bit of a desperate decision so that she doesn't settle into normalcy and peace.

- How Taylor helps the other teams is expanded upon, same with her 'role' in Beacon.

- Taylor's criminal night-life had been gutted. She became more 'influential' and 'important' in the Vale criminal world than she ever should have, all of which would have been fine if I was going to take the time to delve deeper into Vale's criminal life, but I'm not going to. So, Taylor is just an informant, selling info she hears or finds with her bugs when she was searching for the White Fang.

- Team RWBYT is dead, long live the new guard… which is the old guard, or well, the canon guard. Taylor is just not on a team but Ruby offered to let her room with team RWBY. Taylor talks with Ozpin so that she doesn't end up on a team.

I'd suggest reading Chapters 1-3, 10, Junior's Interlude, Ciara's Interlude, Jaune's Interlude, and Chapter 18-19 for the most prominent changes, if you're interested.

A big thank you to my beta's who have gone through this fic's multiple versions multiple times. I am not worthy.

Also, my upload schedule is up in the air. When my work started back up after having its covid shutdown, I kinda got put in charge of a bunch of things. I'll be heading to a bunch of other locations around the country every few months now, so that's a thing. It is also why this revival is about 6 months later than I meant it to be. I don't have half the time to write that I used to.

Now, onto Chapter 20.

Chapter 20: Husk

Taylor

"Thanks again, for this," I said, fainter than I had wanted, but I couldn't muster the energy to say it louder.

"Hey, it's no skin off my back," Coco said with a shrug. I didn't want to intrude, but I couldn't come up with a better option, not until I could think without the need to puke or panic.

We carried my bed down an elevator, across a walkway, and into the second-year dorm building. With Aura, the weight was negligible. Coco's 'good' purse weighed more—with folding frame technology, Coco had contorted a purse to unfold into a mini-gun.

Just as we turned the corner to Team CFVY's room, a voice echoed inside my head. "Oh whoa, I did not see this coming."

I dropped my side of the bed and jolted around, looking for the speaker. "Who said that?!" I asked sharply. I felt the presence in my mind, like a hum in the background.

Coco sighed tiredly.

"OoooooOoooo, I'm aaaa Ghooooosssst," the voice said in drawn-out moans.

"Fox, I know you're doing it again. Open the door," Coco called out.

The door opened to reveal a dark-skinned, copper-haired boy leaning against the frame. Peeking out from his vest were numerous red scars that ran up his arms. A vulpine grin was templed by pearly white eyes—he was blind.

"Just introducing myself. Name's Fox, Fox Alistair. I'll let you guess my Semblance." His mouth never moved.

"Telepathy?" I said, easing my stance. The sudden rush and loss of adrenaline left me drained, or maybe I was just… tired.

"Got it in one," he said out loud and moved to the side, holding the door open for us.

The idea of telepathy left a dark, sour taste in my mouth and a chill down my back. No parahumans had the ability, but it was strongly associated with the Simurgh. I doubted Fox could or would use his Semblance to drive others insane or make them do something terrible down the line, but divorcing the two in my head would take some time. Though, the Simurgh could make silence kill, an undetectable touch as she manipulated your mind. At least, I could feel Fox even if he was quiet when he used his telepathy.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I hope you don't mind me staying in the room for a bit."

Coco and I set my bed in the corner, a little section of the room easily set apart from the rest. Second-year dorms were bigger than the first-year ones, despite the building being slightly older—though, with how well-kept everything at Beacon was, the difference was barely noticeable.

Team CFVY's room was set up similarly to JNPR's, but with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. RWBY's bunk beds really opened up a lot of space, but even without them there was enough room for each team member to add their own decorations.

The stack of magazines, ammo, Dust, and the bed closest to a large dresser was obviously Coco's. Two sets of extra shades sat ready on her desk. She must have broken a lot of pairs in combat.

Velvet's bed had a collage of photos pinned to the wall above it and a large plushie of some kind of sheep-cat next to the pillow.

Fox's space was neatly organized, everything in pouches or containers, all labeled in Braille.

The last member, whose name I couldn't remember, had a bed that was bigger than any of the other beds, queen-sized instead of a single. A picture of two adults and a younger girl—his family, most likely—sat on a small desk along with several papers, a brush, and an inkwell. The picture was placed such that you wouldn't be able to see it from the bed. An odd thing to notice; it probably meant nothing, but it stuck out.

"Not a problem, welcome aboard," Fox said, out loud this time, waving a hand dismissively. "Good to have some new blood to shake things up a bit every once in a while." He sat on his bed, put a wireless headphone into his ear, and pressed something on his Scroll. A screen reading program, I guessed.

I bent down and started unpacking what little I had—clothes, books, and my tea set. Few enough items to be considered spartan, but maybe I had been subconsciously preparing to leave at any time. I hadn't seen a point in collecting a lot of stuff.

Well, that wasn't a concern anymore. I was on Remnant to stay, stranded with all my mistakes to haunt me. Lucky me.

"Fox is cool, good to his friends, an annoying son of a bitch to his enemies," Coco said flippantly, to which Fox grinned. "He's a bit of a prankster, so be careful…" She paused as if realizing something. "Fox, you messaged Vel and Yatsuhashi about Taylor staying in our room, right?"

"Yatsuhashi said he didn't have any problems."

"And Velvet?"

As if on cue, the door opened, and Velvet walked in, facing the back of my head with Coco sitting on my bed beside me.

"Uh…" Velvet said, still in the door.

"Yo, we have a guest for a little bit," Coco stated.

I turned enough to watch from the corner of my eye as Velvet glanced at Fox then spun on Coco, the fur on her ears bristling, and she tried to glare, but her face made it look more like a pout. "Coco, you said you weren't going to bring any girls back to the dorm."

Fox snickered.

Coco grinned. "I don't think the context matches."

I stood so she could see who I was, and Velvet's jaw dropped, eyes darting between Coco and me. "Y-you and Coco…?" Red bloomed on her cheeks.

"There weren't any single rooms for someone not on a team, so I have to share," I said.

"Oh." She collected herself, parsing my words. "Well, it's nice to have you then, but where were you staying before?" she asked, then her face pinched. "Not that there's anything bad about you staying with us or anything!"

I waved her concerns away. "I was staying with one of the first-year teams, but I… needed some space, so I asked Coco for some help." Coco clicked her tongue twice in confirmation.

A shadow towered behind Velvet, ducking to not hit his head on the doorframe as he entered. Narrow, deep-set eyes were framed by black shaven hair and tanned skin. Most would have remarked on his height and build, a very athletic seven-foot giant of a man, muscles stretching against the Beacon uniform. What I noticed was how he glanced around while walking, planning his route to not break anything.

"Yatsuhashi Daichi. It's nice to finally meet you, Taylor." He nodded in greeting. "Thank you for helping Velvet when we weren't around to."

Distantly, my mind remarked that he was handsome, though nearly everyone on Remnant seemed to be unnaturally good-looking, but I couldn't make the effort for it to be more than a surface thought.

I gave the barest nod. "Thank you for letting me stay with you. I'll make sure to be out of the way and discreet." Every word was a procedure, something ticked off a list. Any deep thought made me sink, so I didn't put much thought into anything. It was easier, at least, for now.

"It's no trouble. If there's anything you need, feel free to ask."

"Thank you," I said.

A small beep had Coco glancing over her sunglasses at her Scroll. "Class in ten. You good here?" she asked, and I nodded.

Team CFVY headed out, leaving silence in their wake.

I lay on my bed, trying to distract myself from thinking. I was tired but not sleepy, bored but without the drive to do something.

Hours passed in that fitful state of both feeling guilty over not doing something and dreading doing anything.

As soon as classes ended for the day, an avalanche of texts beeped on my Scroll from Ruby, asking where I was and saying that someone had stolen my bed.

My reply was short: I needed time and space to think things over, so I moved to another room for a bit.

In reality, I wasn't sure of the reason. Maybe I was scared I would hurt them, or disappoint them and myself, or maybe it was just an excuse to hide from everything.

Minutes passed before Ruby texted, "We're here for whatever you need us for. Team RWBY+T forever!"

I was sure there was a conversation with the rest of the team, but I didn't maneuver any bugs to listen.

Coco had her team on a packed schedule, so I didn't expect them back till after dinner. I sent out a short message to cancel my liaison tutoring sessions under the guise of welcoming the students from other schools. I didn't think I could do them at the moment, but it also meant I had lots of time.

It felt weird to be in this room, which was not at all like the comfortable space rooming with Team RWBY had eventually become.

I didn't want to be there when Team CFVY returned—it'd feel weird if I was, like I was the fifth wheel and an intruder. So, despite my lethargy, I went on a walk to hopefully clear my head.

Without a destination, I wandered through corridors I didn't usually frequent with no other purpose than to extend the journey.

Through a classroom door window, I watched a group of students practice Dust Art. It was similar to firework displays, but Dust allowed for much more precision and scale. One of the students tapped a tube of Dust, pushing at it with their Aura to activate it, and a small explosion of pink, red, and green formed into a blooming flower of sparks and fire. Its appearance was met with a circle of applause.

Despite being a 'university', Beacon was closer to a high school in terms of cliques and people. There were clubs, like the Dust Art Club, but they weren't organizations in their own right like I would have expected from a university. Nothing like fraternities or anything.

I continued my wandering, slightly annoyed at myself for not addressing the issues that made me want the walk to clear my head and think in the first place, but I still kept those doors closed in my mind. I was too tired to rip off the Band-Aid.

Eventually, I found myself in Beacon's student planning office, more because it was there than curiosity.

Regardless, a lady at a desk asked if I was there to see a counselor for my courses. As I was about to shake my head, one of the doors opened, and an older woman with blue hair too bright to not be dyed ushered me in.

At least it's a distraction.

After half an hour of nodding my head, and giving non-committal grunts and one-word answers, I was out the door with a hand full of pamphlets regarding course planning and specialization requirements.

Higher education was something I had always thought I'd get—with Mom, it had been an assumption rather than a goal or expectation—but that was before I'd gotten powers. Everything else fell to the wayside after that. Now that I had the chance to get a degree, at what amounted to one of the best universities in the world, I wasn't sure.

In our third year, students chose specializations that related to what kind of Huntsmen we wanted to be. What specialization you took and how well you did regulated what missions you received.

The most common route for students was General Huntsmen, a jack-of-all-trades approach rather than a specialization. They took missions as they came, mostly dealing with Grimm. Many of them went on to be mercenaries.

Envoy Huntsmen were one of the main specializations available, focusing on bodyguard duties and protection while traveling. They formed a surprisingly integral part of the economy for settlements outside of the kingdoms, since any town or village in an area where the skies weren't patrolled couldn't receive supplies via Bullhead. Envoy Huntsmen protected and delivered goods and supplies to these places.

Foundation Huntsmen learned how to clear and protect an area for the construction of settlements outside kingdom walls. They were the group with the highest fatality rate and the lowest enrollment.

There were other, more customized specializations that Beacon would suggest courses to best prepare a student for. Whatever a student chose, after enough logged years and a shining history as a Huntsmen, they could take an advanced course that doubled as a teaching degree, a route to being a professor at somewhere like Beacon to train the next generation of Huntsmen.

That kind of thinking was so far off, though, that I barely remembered the words after I read them, let alone considered acting on them.

I did notice that Beacon also offered regular courses to get a normal degree. Not all graduates became professional Huntsmen. I even had extra credits from helping the other teams…

I have options now, don't I?

The idea seemed so… bizarre. Something I had never even considered, but it was available. I could be a teacher—a regular one, like Mom.

Maybe... this all was a sign that it was time to stop. There were other ways I could help, without having to be so hesitant and suspicious of everything I was trying to do.

I was so tired of doubting myself, of being self-destructive, of taking steps to change how I do things, only to find out I was still fucking up.

And I had been fucking up, in a way that now seemed so fucking obvious and simple. That was why the guilt was so raw.

Realizing I hadn't really been taking responsibility for every bad thing I had done throughout my life, like some child too short-sighted to see the mess they were making, instead of growing and learning, hurt. Anything I had accomplished felt undermined in some fashion.

Brian died because of that. Because of me.

I didn't use my bugs as an outlet to act out a tantrum for stress relief or anything. Distancing myself from my feelings by offloading them that way seemed like a symptom of my problem.

The sun dipped under the edge of the horizon, leaving swirls of purple, red, and orange behind. I walked out of Beacon toward the airship docks, justifying the trip as a way to get a better view of the sunset.

Once I got there, I barely glanced at the sight before turning back. Aura kept my feet and muscles from aching, so I could wander for hours without trouble.

The window for getting dinner at the cafeteria came and went. I wasn't hungry.

When I got back to CFVY's room, I waved to them before retiring to my bed.

Sleep came slowly, was spotty, and ended quickly. I stared at the ceiling until the sun, and everyone else, slowly rose.

None of them asked what I was doing for the day, or questioned why I wasn't going to class, which I was grateful for.

Yatsuhashi left some incense burning, a gentle, fragrant wood smell, that seeped into the senses. It was comforting in the same way breathing in steam to help clear your sinuses was.

When the scent started to fade, I went on another aimless walk.

The sun was still high in the sky and ambling about the school hadn't removed the haze from my mind or helped me divine any answers.

I still felt listless yet anxious to move, frustrated that I wasn't doing anything while guilt and doubt stopped me from committing to something. It felt like a pressure building in my bones but trapped in a cage I couldn't open.

My Scroll beeped; Ruby was wondering if I was coming to combat class.

Fighting was familiar. Maybe actually being in class would be enough to compel me to move. So, I decided to go. Ruby's text went unanswered.

I purposely entered the room seconds before Professor Goodwitch started the class. RWBY and JNPR spotted me, and I caught their mixed stares. Some showed relief, cheer, or worry. Pyrrha looked almost expectant through her obvious fretting. Blake's eyes narrowed into a glare before they shot to her feet, a scowl obvious on her face. Fair.

I turned to not sit with them, purposely avoiding seeing how they reacted to that.

They would have questions, rightfully so, about what happened and how I was doing, and I didn't want to give them the answers. If I did, I would have to explain all the graves I'd made, and the many skeletons in my closet.

Professor Goodwitch snapped her crop against a wall for attention, and everyone was instantly silent.

I was paired with Dove from Team CRDL for a full class of sparring, which was surprising since I was usually partnered with someone lower in terms of combat skills. It was a sign that I was improving, but I couldn't care enough to celebrate.

We faced off in our designated section of the arena, other pairs doing the same, and clashed.

If anything, the battle calmed me. Combat was a distraction that pushed everything else away and made me focus on the moment. Any thoughts of the future were consumed by what move to make next, where to maneuver my opponent, and watching the battlefield.

It was the most invigorating thing I had felt all day.

Therapy through conflict, how ugly.

My Semblance was something I didn't even consider trying to explore. Any use or practicality in the new ability was overshadowed by how it appeared, and the implications behind it made the 'progress' hollow and tainted. I couldn't bring myself to care about it beyond the self-loathing it brought.

I missed a slash I shouldn't have, and my Aura went into the red. With our match over earlier than everyone else in the class, we changed back into our uniforms. Then, I snuck out of class. Any thrill or drive from the fight was already gone.

I started to wander again, this time with the leaflets from the counseling office in hand. Going through the options and what was available was… pleasant, in a way. It revitalized me in a different way than fighting had. A refreshing breeze instead of a hard-worked sweat. I even mapped out course schedules for teaching, computer science, and a few other avenues just to keep my mind moving.

Thoughts of a different sort of future than anything I had considered in the last few years made me feel something other than doubt.

Doubt was nothing like the weight of dread that an upcoming apocalypse brought. Dread could be carried, or used to push yourself to meet it. Doubt didn't pull, push, shove, or even bend. It consumed, eating away at everything else until it was all that was left. It undermined everything else that you could use to fight it, because how could you trust something to wipe away the doubt when doubt made you not trust anything? It was a spiral, down and down until you stagnated and failed. Dizzying in the nothingness it brought.

Anytime I tried to think, there was doubt of what I would do and how I would do it.

Would I ignore more consequences in pursuit of my goal? Would I send another person I cared for to death because I didn't consider the costs of pursuing what I wanted?

Would, would, would—could, because they were all possibilities for me.

They were all things I had done before. Like with Aster. And Brian. And hundreds of other capes.

And—and—

Oh god, I…

My chest started to hurt.

I looked down and watched my chest frantically rise and fall. Hyperventilating.

I focused on my bugs, filling my mind with their senses. The feeling of the rock under thousands of tiny feet. The sounds of skittering lightly echoing through the vents. Kaleidoscopic views of hazy blurs that all overlapped into headache-inducing nonsense.

It wasn't helping.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get enough air.

The pamphlets dropped from my hand.

I needed to slow my breathing.

The walls seemed closer, cutting off any escape.

I staggered around a corner, so no one could see me.

The slow rising pressure of suffocation built into a high-pitched pain.

Stop.

I tried to calm myself, to force my breathing to slow.

Breathe.

Nothing worked. It hurt. I was helpless, attacked and betrayed by my own body.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't slow my breathing. I wasn't in control.

Stop!

Tears pricked my eyes and the pressure only built.

Every sense felt frenzied yet the world was so far away.

Trapped yet exposed. Frantic yet frozen.

Black edged at my vision.

My skin felt chilled while my head and lungs burned.

Sound dulled into white noise.

My throat was tight, yet my tongue was swollen and heavy.

Hell was an eternity to myself, slumped against a wall behind a building.

Time stretched. I didn't know when I started sobbing.

I hugged myself until the shaking stopped. Then, I stayed still for a long time after.

More exhausted than I had ever felt, I rushed to the nearest bathroom to clean myself up and hide my pale face and red eyes the best I could.

I messaged Coco, asking when was the latest I could return without disturbing anyone.

The spot behind the building, my tears still drying in the soil, was my shelter for the next two hours as I waited. I was burnt out of everything, even doubt, which actually made everything feel lighter despite how raw I felt.

I slipped into CFVY's room just as everyone was winding down. I made small talk, and even remembered to send Coco my updated designs for the spider silk outfits.

The prototypes for the basic clothing—underwear, shirts, and pants, to hide underneath other clothing—were almost ready. Well, when I started working on them again, they would be.

I sank into my mattress and drifted off, too depleted for anything else.

Three days had passed, and time was helping me think the little things through, one step at a time. I had even gone to my classes yesterday.

My friends—being able to think that in my head made things a little brighter, seeing that lighthouse while I drifted in fog—made a point to not crowd or push me. I talked but didn't make conversation. They were empty words at best, never delving into anything that mattered.

They visibly stopped themselves at some points, sometimes only after a pointed stare from Ren or Blake, but it was fine.

I was with them, but I wasn't a part of the group again, I didn't let myself be. There was a distance, and everyone felt it. It didn't help that classes were the only time I saw them.

As soon as the bell rang, I left. I retreated from everyone and picked up a package of dyes from the student mailboxes.

The spider silk clothes were an easy project to work on, something to do, and a task that Coco had insisted on after she got another look at the designs when I'd asked if she would like some. Her insistence and drive for my little side-project pushed me to actually work on it, even if it was just through my bugs in the background.

CFVY's dorm room was empty when I got there, a common occurrence. Coco ran her team ragged, though they were eager for the challenge.

Something caught my eye, outside the window.

There was a fleet of ships sailing over Beacon: the Atlesian military, peacocking its might.

I couldn't imagine what goals General James Ironwood believed showing his raised fist to the world would accomplish, especially just before a tournament that was supposed to promote peace amongst the kingdoms.

Intimidation could curb some threats, but the current situation didn't seem like one of them. Symbols of security were best when the threat had already impacted the population's life personally. Reminding the public that there was danger, highlighting the problems outside of the bubble they lived in, would only lead to anxiety, and that meant more Grimm.

To be fair, the display wasn't unimpressive. Squads of fighters flanked a massive flagship that could probably store hundreds of their android soldiers for deployment.

I sat back, gathering my bugs, and spread them out to listen.

The flagship docked, its massive size dwarfing the landing pad.

The students gossiped and murmured as they watched an envoy of android troops escort General Ironwood, headmaster of Atlas Academy and leader of the Atlesian military, onto Beacon's grounds.

A small crowd followed behind him, people who I guessed were members of the Atlas teams participating in the Vytal Festival.

The General paused by the largest fountain, just within the main grounds of Beacon.

He gave a short, bland speech about their expected decorum while at Beacon, but eventually, let them loose to explore on their own.

One student was extra enthusiastic and even walked with Ironwood for a bit after the general had started toward Ozpin's tower. Apparently, the military itself was personally handling her maintenance—probably for her weapon.

I was surprised he was so personable with his students, considering Atlas's military disposition.

The peppy student walked off, with a personal escort of two guards. She must have been some kind of student VIP.

Ironwood wove his way through the school with familiarity, straight to Ozpin's office.

After greetings, Professor Goodwitch left, clearly irritated by her clipped tone—there was obviously history between her and Ironwood—leaving the general and Ozpin alone.

I moved more bugs to better catch every word instead of having to logic out missed syllables and phrases. The spinning gears hid my swarm's approach, hundreds of insect ears eavesdropping on two of the most important figures on Remnant.

Ozpin was about as enthused about Ironwood's little show of strength as I was. New information from a 'crow', or it might have been a person based on Remnant's naming conventions… Regardless, Ironwood had brought his military in preparation for a possible threat—a war that we students might be involved in.

They continued, delving into topics of trade and politics before they settled on Grimm movements, and that's when the world stopped.

"Why would she be sending Grimm there?" "What are her plans?" "What is the status of the Fall Maiden?" "Any idea of the identity of her agents, and what their plans are?"

I tried to think of another context. Maybe I was possibly misinterpreting things.

No matter how I tried to rearrange the words and guess other meanings, the answer was still the same.

Her. She. Someone who they were fighting against, someone who apparently led the Grimm. Finally, after nearly an hour of discussion, they dropped a name.

Salem. The one who led the Grimm. An enemy that a select few secretly fought against, for the survival of every person on Remnant.

The laughter bubbled in my gut before boiling over in hysteric heaves that shook my body.

There was a threat to the world, an enemy to fight, a world-threatening disaster.

There always had been.

I broke a little more, and laughed and laughed.

Chapter 20 End

Praise be to Juff, Breakingamber, ccstat, Sigravig, Majigah, and TheBiggerFish.

So, this takes us to Volume 2 Chapter 2… 170k words in… Oh my god.

Taylor finds out about Salem. Surely this will only help her mental state!

Oh, the memories Ciara wiped had nothing to do with Salem, the Brothers, the Maidens, etc etc. Just in case anyone thought that was the case.

In Ozpin and Ironwood's talk in Vol 2 Chapter 2, it's kinda implied that Ironwood leaves after around 1 minutes and 45 seconds of talking with Ozpin, which is dumb. No. Two members of the Remnant Illuminati, who are basically leaders of their respective countries, and friends, do not talk vaguely about threats for less than two minutes (which includes greetings and Glynda leaving) before fucking off till season 3, where Qrow starts dropping some more exposition about the Maidens for no reason to people who already know all of it.