Semblance of Brutality

A Lesson in Ultraviolence

Qrow's perspective

"...and that's about it," Doomguy finishes.

"So you're telling me that you and Yang - without a qualified Huntsman - went fisticuffs with a Grimm hive and came out alive?" I ask, bewildered.

"Yep, that sums it up pretty well."

"How?!" I exclaim.

"Remember when I told you we think we came close to unlocking my semblance? Well, we figured out that when I hit stuff more than once, it's like I hurt them more."

"Well, yeah, that's the normal response to being punched more than once," I say, still a bit lost.

"I don't mean like that. It's almost like I get stronger with every blow I land in succession. Could that be a semblance?" he asks.

"Could be," I tell him, "or it also might not be. You'll know it when it happens; everyone I've seen unlock theirs has known."

"What about you?" Doomguy inquires.

I wince a little at the thought of explaining my semblance. Part of me is screaming to just shrug his question off and move on. The other part of me, though, knows that avoiding it will only make him more curious. Begrudgingly, I give in.

"Oh, I knew, alright. For the longest time, I didn't have a clue as to why people around me had bad things happen to them. It was like clockwork; one person gets close, they have some terrible thing happen, then they avoid me like the plague, rinse and repeat. Eventually, I figured out that my semblance was misfortune, and I couldn't turn it off... no matter how badly I wanted to. That's why I decided I'd do a better job of protecting people from a distance." I glance at a picture of Team RWBY I had framed and put on a shelf. "That's also why I tend to avoid my nieces. If anything happened to them..." I trail off to keep myself from choking up.

Not the time to be emotional, Qrow! I slyly slip my pocket flask out and take a hefty gulp of alcohol. Then, I screw the cap back on and conceal it in my shirt once more. I swallow hard and find my words again.

"My point is: you'll know it when it happens. There's no doubt about it."

"I'm... sorry," he tells me. Odd; I never would have expected him to be apologizing to me.

"Look, it's fine. It's no one's fault; just the way it is. I know I can't always save everyone, so I'll ask you this: please, please promise me you won't let Yang talk you into any more Grimm punching sessions. She's strong, but she's got her mother's temper. I would know; her mother is my sister."

"You're a very interesting man, Qrow. And yes, I promise: no more Grimm punching."

"Thank you." Without thinking, I immediately extend my arm into a handshake, a gesture Doomguy gladly returns.

Suddenly, we hear my front door latch shut and evenly-paced footsteps begin to head toward the living room. We turn around to see Yang. She appears better-dressed and with well-brushed, golden hair. What's all this about?

"Hey, kid. How's it going?" I ask her.

"Hey, Qrow. It's going pretty well. What're you guys up to?"

I think for a second before saying, "We were just talking about the impressively fearsome Team RWBY."

As if on command, Yang strikes a pose at the mention of her team, utilizing her athletic build. She flexes her left arm while pointing her right arm outward. She holds this pose momentarily, then drops it and returns to her relaxed posture. Yang comes over to the couch and plops down next to Doomguy.

"So, you were bragging about us, right?" she asks, half jokingly.

"Definitely," I chuckle. "Who would've thought you four would end up being one of the most iconic teams out there?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far, but we're definitely something," Yang answers. "Anyways, sorry to cut this short, but I need to borrow this guy." She points at Doomguy.

"Fine by me. As long as you two don't do anything boneheaded." I glance at Doomguy and he nods.

"Don't worry, Qrow; we won't," Yang assures me.

She promptly stands up, grabs ahold of Doomguy's wrist, and begins to drag him outside. When I hear the door shut, I heave a large sigh. I really hope they don't do anything stupid. After a couple more seconds of sitting on the couch, I decide that I should go make sure those two don't get into any trouble... from a distance. I flick the living room light switch off and leave to supervise them.

To my surprise, they are sparring just a few yards away. I unfold a compacted lawn chair and angle it towards their fight. Not many people could keep up with Yang's fistfight-oriented, yet rather unpredictable, fighting style, but those two seemed to be almost perfectly matched. She's done well, I tell myself. I've never considered Yang to be the one that would wind up mentoring someone, especially someone she'd met recently. Then, a realization hits me, and I almost spit out the liquor in my mouth: Yang isn't the type of person to do that sort of thing... unless, of course, she likes them a considerable amount.

I relax a bit when I realize there are much worse people Yang could be spending her time with. Even so, she hasn't really been spending much time with her actual teammates since he'd arrived. Relax, Qrow, I attempt to console myself, it's only been a couple days. I finally find myself trusting the two of them enough not to run off and attack any more Grimm, and close my eyes for a moment. Of course, it happened to be the same moment that one of them had accidentally hit a rock and chipped off a piece... sending it directly into one of my windows.

"Damn it!" I sigh before getting up to sweep up the shards of glass. Behind me, I hear a pair of mismatched chuckles before the sounds of sparring resume. At least they're having fun, I remind myself.