RWBY: The Missing Chapters

Pyrrha Nikos x Male Reader: Worth Fighting For

You'd never really considered yourself much of a fighter. Sure, you were enrolled at Sanctuary, one of Mistral's huntsmen preparatory schools, but your combat skills weren't outstanding. Or so you thought.

If you were being honest, the Mistral Regional Tournament didn't interest you much. It never really had. Still, you found yourself signing up to compete, more to make your parents happy than anything else. You told them not to be disappointed when you lost though. After all, you were only in your first year at Sanctuary, and the tournament was bound to attract competitors that were not only older than yourself, but vastly more skilled as well.

You were confident that you'd be knocked out of the tournament pretty early on, so imagine your surprise when you found yourself in the quarter finals, and then advancing to the semis. You were convinced it was inly through sheer dumb luck that you walked out into the stadium as one of the two final contestants.

The sound of the crowd was deafening, their cheers turning your stomach as your sweaty hands tightened the strap of your Aegis around your arm, fist tightly gripping your Bident

From the opposite end of the arena walked your opponent. She smiled and waved at the crowd as she walked out towards the center of the arena, her read hair shining under the light of the midafternoon sun. As the two of you faced off, you could see just how pale she looked. Despite her brave appearance, she was obviously just as nervous as you were. As your names were announced she offered you a friendly smile. She was very pretty. You blushed, and tried your best to smile in return, but it came out as more of a pained looking grimace than anything else. Then the buzzer sounded and the final match of the 72nd annual Mistral Regional Tournament began.

It soon became obvious that she was the better fighter, but you managed to hold your own, though just barely. Fifteen minutes into the match and her aura was in the light yellow, your own in the dark orange. Her sword swung down from overhead, the stadium echoing with the sound of metal against metal as you blocked with the Aegis. You trapped her weapon between the two prongs of your Bident and forced it down. The two of you struggled for a moment, blades locked, and then she smiled at you again. She was really pretty when she smiled. And her eyes were the most beautiful of greens. You found yourself getting lost in her mesmerizing gaze, and then you were on your back, gasping for air.

And just like that, it was over. You couldn't even hear the announcer's voice coming from the speakers over the thunderous cheers from the crowd. You pushed yourself up into a seated position, catching your breath. A shadow was cast over your vision and you looked up to see the girl whose name you still didn't know standing over you, offering her hand. Taking it, she helped you to your feet.

Suddenly you were separated from the young girl by a dozen camera crews and news teams, each one eager to hear from Mistral's new champion. Through the noise coming from the crowd and the shuttering of camera lenses, you caught a snippet of one of the interviewer's questions. It was just one word. One word that would quickly become an obsession. Pyrrha. Her name was Pyrrha.

You started hearing her name everywhere. At school, on the news, she was all anyone seemed to be talking about. Pyrrha Nikos, the youngest person in over three decades to claim the title of Mistral Regional Champion. Pretty soon, it wasn't just her name being broadcast everywhere, but her person as well. She was interviewed on live television, her pictures appearing in the tabloids, and in just several weeks, every box of Pumpkin Pete's cereal had her image plastered on the front.

The next year came and passed, and in what seemed like no time at all, the tournament was once again upon you. Your friends and classmates asked if you were going to compete again. Much to their disappointment, you told them it was unlikely. Sure, you had done well the previous year. Extremely well in fact, but you hadn't entered for yourself. You'd gone, you competed, and you made your parents smile. Now it was over and there was nor reason for you to compete again. And then there was.