CDXS: Unchosen (RWBY fanfic)

The midday bell rang through Beacon Academy, its chime echoing faintly through the grand halls as students from various classes trickled out into the corridors. Laughter, footsteps, and casual chatter blended into a steady hum.

Among them, Team CDXS emerged from a lecture hall, each member distinct as day from night.

"—and then he just tripped over his own sword like a penguin on rollerblades!" Doppel exclaimed, arms flailing for emphasis, her tail twitching behind her with amusement.

"I'm not even surprised anymore," Kumiko replied, walking beside her with her hands tucked behind her head, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Honestly, how do people like that even pass combat class?"

"I bet he bribed his way in," Doppel muttered conspiratorially, narrowing her golden eyes. "I've seen the way he stares at Professor Peach's sandals. Very suspicious. Nya."

Behind them, Sese trailed gracefully, holding up a compact mirror as she adjusted her makeup with practiced elegance. "Perhaps you two should consider not publicly insulting classmates," she commented, applying a subtle line of gloss. "It might be refreshing for once. Or at least whisper it like civilized deviants."

Doppel stuck her tongue out without looking back. "Where's the fun in that?"

They turned a corner toward the cafeteria, the scent of bread, meat, and sweet pastries growing stronger in the air.

Through it all, Cala Ad Lance walked in silence.

Her footsteps were heavier than the others—more from her sheer height and build than her armored boots, which she wore out of habit even outside class. Her presence was undeniable, the air around her stoic and solid, like a walking citadel.

Kumiko's voice dipped into something random again. "Do you think the cafeteria still has that rice omelette dish today?"

Doppel perked up. "Ooooh, if they do, I'm gonna eat five."

"You always say that and then fall asleep under the table."

"And it's always worth it, nya."

As the banter went on, Doppel suddenly swerved toward Cala, walking backwards to face her while keeping pace.

"You've been super quiet, big boss. Got any thoughts in that vault of yours today?" she teased, her eyes gleaming. "Anything? Just a meow or maybe a weather report?"

Cala didn't look at her. Her tone, when it came, was calm. Not annoyed—just firm.

"There's nothing interesting to say," she replied, eyes fixed forward. "I just want lunch."

The group quieted for a brief second.

"...Well," Sese said, snapping her compact shut, "That's the most Cala-thing I've heard all day."

Doppel blinked, then broke into a grin. "Fair enough, Fortress Girl. You've earned your silence." she said dramatically.

They entered the cafeteria as a team of opposites—talkative, quiet, elegant, loud, and unbreakable.

And through it all, Cala walked like a mountain unmoved, her hunger the only thing worth speaking of.

The cafeteria was alive with noise—cutlery clinking, trays sliding, and students exchanging jokes between bites of food. Team CDXS had claimed their usual corner table by the windows, the sunlight pouring in across their trays.

"I swear, again?" Kumiko muttered with a half-laugh as she leaned closer across the table.

Doppel gave a mischievous smirk, twirling a fork with practiced innocence. "They really need to hide the fish better if they don't want me finding it. It's practically a challenge now, nya."

In her lap, half-wrapped in a napkin, a suspiciously grilled salmon tail peeked out from her scroll case shaped like a fish.

Kumiko tried—and failed—not to laugh. "You're going to get banned from the kitchen one of these days."

"Only if they catch me."

Meanwhile, Sese sat with an air of practiced grace, phone pressed to her ear as she delicately lifted a forkful of salad with her other hand.

"I understand that the fall shipment is delayed, but I'm currently in class hours, dear. No, I cannot approve a last-minute modeling shoot. Yes, I know it's for a high-profile client," she said in a low, polite tone. Then she sighed and pinched her brow. "Just put the papers on my desk. I'll deal with them tonight. Not to worry."

She ended the call with a fluid tap and placed her phone down beside her tray. Her shoulders sank slightly, and she cast a glance toward Cala, seated at the end of the table in silence, slowly eating without a word.

Sese gave a small pout, brushing her hair back from her face. "Honestly... balancing school, business, and brand obligations isn't glamorous. They never show this part on the covers."

No reply.

Cala finished the last bite on her plate, pushed the tray forward with a soft clink, and stood up. Her imposing figure drew brief glances from nearby students as she adjusted her jacket collar with the same mechanical precision as her spear movements.

"I'm heading to the training grounds," she said plainly, not meeting their eyes.

"Oh?" Kumiko blinked. "But lunch isn't even over."

"There's nothing left for me here."

With that, she turned and walked away without waiting for a reply—her strides confident, purposeful, and distant.

The table fell quiet.

Sese tapped her nails against the table once. "You'd think we were ghosts the way she looks through us sometimes."

"She didn't even say goodbye," Kumiko muttered.

"She never does," Doppel said, her ears flicking. "She's like a wall that walks."

"A very tall, hungry wall," Kumiko added with a sigh. "Do you think she even likes being part of a team?"

Sese leaned back, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "No... but I think she knows she's part of one. There's a difference."

Doppel looked at the half-eaten fish in her hand. "Yeah... but it'd be nice if she talked more. Or even just... sat with us without looking like she's planning a siege."

Their eyes lingered on the direction Cala left, the noise of the cafeteria returning around them. The silence she left behind felt louder than before.

—

The training grounds were quiet—abandoned save for one.

Cala stood at the center of the arena, a lone sentinel surrounded by the shattered remains of dozens of combat dummies. Her broad shoulders rose and fell with controlled, heavy breaths, sweat glistening across her tank top-clad frame. Her baggy pants were dust-streaked and torn at the knees, her stance unwavering despite the exhaustion lining her powerful frame.

Her shield—Bastion of Dawn—rested against the ground beside her, its massive bulk like a slab of fortress wall. In her other hand, she held her lance—Relict Heirpiercer—gripped tightly, its surface nicked from repeated strikes.

She exhaled through her nose.

"Next wave."

From the far side of the arena, more puppets whirred to life, their eyes glowing red as they sprinted forward with mock weapons and mindless aggression.

Cala surged into motion.

Her lance thrust forward—straight, fast, clean—piercing the chest of the lead puppet with brutal efficiency. She pivoted, shield bashing another with a thunderous clang that sent it flying sideways, limbs flailing. With a twist of her arm, the lance shifted into cannon form. She knelt, anchored her shield into the ground—

—and fired.

A shockwave burst through the field, fire and force tearing through the incoming wave. When the smoke cleared, the puppets lay in pieces—scorched and ruined across the field.

Cala lowered her weapon. Her chest rose with quiet pants, but her face remained unreadable. The battlefield—silent.

"Goodness..." came a calm, sharp voice behind her. "Look at this mess."

Cala turned slightly, her eyes flicking to the figure approaching in heels and cloak.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch walked with her usual precision, hands behind her back as she surveyed the wreckage. Her gaze swept across the training ground, stopping at the charred holes in the walls and the broken debris scattered far past the field's edge.

"You've certainly... pushed the boundaries of acceptable use," Glynda murmured with a raised brow. "I'll admit, your form is excellent—focused, powerful, efficient." She paused. "But you do know repairs to these dummies cost more than your scholarship, yes?"

Cala gave a small, wordless nod and lowered her shield. She set down her weapons to the side with care, then dropped to the ground and began a set of push-ups without a word.

Glynda watched her for a moment longer, the rhythmic sound of palms against stone filling the silence.

"You're performing far above first-year expectations," she said as she began to circle her slowly. "Even many third-years struggle with this level of output. Your stamina, your control... and your size is, frankly, uncommon."

Cala continued her push-ups. "Genetics," she said simply, voice calm, steady between reps.

Glynda tilted her head. "Perhaps. But I still wonder. Why go this far? Why push yourself so relentlessly, alone, when the rest of your team is... well, adjusting to student life a little more lightly?"

Without stopping, Cala replied, "I'm more of a woman of action."

Another push-up.

"I want to be strong."

Another.

"For stronger Grimm."

Glynda folded her arms, her expression unreadable for a moment.

Then, she nodded. "Spoken like a Huntress in the making."

The only response was the sound of continued push-ups echoing through the scorched arena—calm, focused, unrelenting.

The push-ups continued, steady and rhythmic, until Glynda's voice cut through again—this time quieter, almost inquisitive.

"Why not train with your team?"

Cala paused.

Her body froze mid-rep, held just above the ground. Her breath steadied again. Then she pushed herself up, sat back on her knees, and looked ahead—silent.

"You are the leader of CDXS," Glynda continued, walking slowly around her again. "Appointed not by your teammates... but by Headmaster Ozpin himself. Surely, you understand the weight of that choice. A team is not meant to be carried in pieces."

She turned to face her fully.

"It is meant to move together. To learn together. Fight together. You've shown you can stand on your own—but why do you insist on doing everything alone?"

Cala stood up slowly, brushing the dust from her palms. She didn't meet Glynda's eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Only after a long pause did she speak.

"...I apologize."

Her voice was low, clipped, and honest. "I have no experience... leading."

There was more behind that sentence. A hesitation in her throat. A truth left buried—I don't know how to talk to them. I don't know how to connect. But she didn't say it.

She couldn't.

Glynda watched her with a knowing look. Her gaze softened, just slightly, behind the sternness.

"None of us are born with it," she said finally. "Leadership is learned... and tested. As is trust."

She turned and began to walk away, heels tapping softly against the stone.

"This afternoon, there will be a sparring rotation. Team versus team. A practical assessment of physical coordination and collaboration." She stopped at the edge of the field and glanced back. "I suggest you find time to speak with your teammates, Miss Lance. Before you face them in combat."

Then she left.

Cala remained alone in the silence. The distant hum of the arena machinery was all that filled the air.

She stared down at her hands—calloused, rough, and silent.

"...Right."

She let out a quiet sigh, barely audible, and turned to retrieve her weapons.

The next battle wouldn't just be about strength.

It would be about standing with others.

And that, to her, was far more difficult.

Cala turned around, intent on continuing her workout—but something stopped her.

She looked down at her hands.

The same hands that had been battered, bloodied, and strengthened through years of training. The same hands that carried the weight of her lance, her shield, her battles... her survival.

Hands that had always fought alone.

She stared at them in silence. Her gaze sharp, yet unfocused—like she was trying to see something that wasn't there. Her jaw tightened, and she bit her lip ever so slightly. Her brow furrowed—not in anger, but in thought. A deep, spiraling, relentless kind of thought.

Like her mind was sprinting at full speed, while her body stood still.

Then she sighed.

Her arms slowly lowered to her sides.

She looked up at the sky above the open roof of the training grounds, then closed her eyes.

And for a brief, fleeting moment—she was no longer here.

She was a child again.

The clang of steel is gone. The weight of armor is forgotten. The world is quiet.

She sat down heavily on the cool stone floor near her weapons. The heaviness inside her chest felt heavier than her shield. Her breath came slowly—controlled, but with the faint tremble of something unspoken just beneath it.

From a pouch at her side, she pulled out a worn photo.

She looked at it—just looked.

The image was faded, edges soft from time. Whatever it showed, it was clear it meant something.

Something important.

Her eyes lingered, her expression still unreadable—but in that stillness was longing.

And regret.

She clenched the photo in her hand, her knuckles white. Her muscles, so used to fight and weight, tensed slightly as if holding onto that memory took more strength than holding her shield.

Then, gently, she folded it away. Slipped it into her pocket like a secret she couldn't afford to lose.

Her eyes stayed lowered.

She didn't know what kind of leader she was supposed to be.

She only knew how to fight.

And right now... she wasn't sure that was enough.

The sun hung high over the Beacon training coliseum, casting sharp shadows across the ringed stone arena. The sparring session had drawn most of the student body to the observation balconies above, where the buzz of chatter and the shine of gleaming weapons filled the air with anticipation.

In the lower staging zone, Team CDXS stood side by side, clad in full gear.

Doppel rolled her shoulders, tail twitching excitedly. "Finally! Some action," she grinned, already twirling two daggers between her fingers.

Kumiko cracked her neck and grinned with calm bloodthirst. "Tch. Don't hold back this time," she said, eyeing the arena like a lion sizing up prey.

Sese, ever composed, had one hand elegantly resting on her musket, the other holding a datapad she quickly closed before glancing at Cala. "We've got options. I suggest a perimeter arc to—"

Cala cut her off. Her voice was calm, firm.

"I'll draw their attention. You three support me. However you can."

There was no discussion. No pause for questions. It was a statement, not a strategy.

Sese blinked, her mouth slightly open in mild disbelief. "Wait, that's—"

Before she could finish, the speakers overhead crackled to life, and Glynda's voice carried through the air with practiced poise.

"All teams, prepare yourselves."

Cala stepped forward onto the edge of the platform, shield on her arm, lance in hand. Her orange eyes were focused—not on her team, not even on their opponents—but on the battlefield itself.

"This will be a standard elimination match," Glynda continued. "Aura levels will be monitored. Once a combatant's aura is critically depleted, they will be teleported out. Teamwork, adaptability, and leadership will all be considered in evaluation."

She paused.

"First match... Team CDXS."

The crowd stirred.

"...versus Team BRNB."

A shift ran through the arena.

Team BRNB stepped onto the opposing platform—four second-year students, known for their aggressive synergy and raw power. The brawler captain cracked his knuckles with a grin.

"Begin when ready."

Cala lifted her shield without a word.

The others exchanged looks—Doppel raised an eyebrow, Kumiko exhaled sharply in readiness, and Sese's expression cooled into something unreadable.

No further words were shared.

The match was about to begin.

The central arena of the Beacon auditorium hummed with energy as the match commenced. Lights cast wide over the ring, illuminating the two teams standing across from each other on the stone platform. Above, the gathered students filled the upper balconies—Team RWBY and Team JNPR among them.

"Team CDXS... versus Team BRNB," Ruby read aloud, peering down. "Oof, BRNB's no joke. I've seen them practice—really coordinated."

"Look at Cala," Weiss muttered, arms folded. "She's going in heavy with that shield and lance again. Typical Atlas tactics."

"She's not from Atlas," Blake said mildly.

"Well, it's still textbook fortress strategy," Weiss shot back, before blinking. "Though... something about her looks off."

"I don't think it's her stance," Pyrrha added quietly, eyes narrowing just a bit as she watched Cala step into position. The towering girl stood with her shield planted and her lance angled slightly behind her shoulder—battle-ready and composed.

But...

There was something in her face. Not hesitation, not fear.

Just... weight.

Pyrrha couldn't put it into words. It sat there, just behind Cala's sharp orange eyes. A flicker, barely visible—a ghost of uncertainty behind layers of control.

"Hmm?" Jaune leaned closer. "You okay, Pyrrha?"

She blinked, then softly shook her head. "It's nothing. Just... nothing."

"Sounded like something," Nora said cheerfully, balancing a bag of popcorn on her head.

But before any more could be said, Glynda raised one gloved hand from her position at the command terminal below.

"Combatants. Ready."

The audience silenced.

Glynda's eyes scanned both teams.

"Set."

A pause. The hum of aura sensors activating. Sparks flickered around the combatants as their aura fields locked into visibility.

Then Glynda's hand sliced the air.

"Begin!"

In a single heartbeat, the arena exploded into motion.

Cala's grip tightened around her transformed lance—now a cannon—as her low voice broke the brief silence among her team.

"Stay sharp."

"Huh—?" came Doppel's blink of confusion. Kumiko raised an eyebrow, while Sese opened her mouth to say something.

But before any of them could speak further, Cala aimed the cannon at the stone floor just ahead and fired.

BOOM!

The explosion echoed through the coliseum as a dense blast of steam and dust swallowed the center of the arena. A thick white-gray fog rolled outward like a sudden stormfront, catching Team BRNB off guard as their members scrambled into defensive stances.

"Go," Cala commanded, her voice cutting through the cloud.

With no hesitation, she launched forward, shield first. A solid burst of force crushed beneath her boots as she surged through the cloud like a charging juggernaut.

Cala spotted BRNB's leader—still recovering from the flashbang of dust—and rammed into him with a bone-rattling shield bash, sending him hurtling backward with a shocked grunt.

'Disorient the center. Without the commander, the rest scatter,' Cala's thoughts echoed calmly amidst the chaos.

Doppel cackled behind her. "Well you didn't say it was boom time!" She rushed out from the smoke with daggers gleaming, flipping forward, and in a wild blur began circling the other BRNB members. "Catch me if you can, big boys!"

She flung daggers in erratic patterns, striking aura barriers, scattering them—but then flinched as another explosive round boomed behind her.

"Hey! Watch it, nya! I got cat ears to protect! This is like when we are In Initiation!"

Cala didn't respond, still moving with methodical precision. Another cannon blast rocketed toward the opposing side, forcing BRNB to break formation.

Kumiko leapt into the opening, her long spear already in motion. "Haaaah!" Her fluid strikes were like dancing wind—elegant and deadly.

She locked blades with one of BRNB's melee fighters, both exchanging rapid blows. Kumiko's speed made her difficult to pin, and her spear twisted around the enemy's weapon in a whirl of sparks.

Then she felt it—that instinctive tug.

"Gah—!" She twisted low, bending back just as a high-pitched whistle screamed past her ear.

A fire dust bolt sizzled through the air where her head had been a second ago.

"Sese!" she snapped, regaining balance. "Watch where you're aiming, are you trying to kill me?!"

Sese stood further back, bow in hand, already preparing the next shot. "I am watching," she said coldly, though there was tension in her voice. "My semblance always hits the target. Problem is, you're in the way!"

"Then shoot above me next time, I swear—!"

More cannon fire roared through the haze.

"That was close again!" Doppel cried, flipping through the smoke, barely dodging another blast. "We're on the same team, ya walking siege engine nya!"

"Adjust your paths, then," Cala replied flatly as she moved forward again, knocking aside another BRNB member with a harsh shove of her shield. Her movements were relentless—precise.

Sese muttered under her breath while lining another shot, her boots skimming across the ground for better elevation. "Honestly, this is more of a hazard course than a team fight..."

Despite the shouting, chaos, and narrowly avoided injuries, something strange was happening—they were pushing through.

Cala's aggressive forward pressure had BRNB in complete disarray. Doppel's hit-and-run tactics were breaking coordination. Kumiko's pressure on her target was unrelenting, and Sese—despite nearly hitting her allies—was landing enough shots to fracture their aura defenses.

Their fighting was messy. Disjointed. Chaotic.

But still—effective.

They were winning.

And yet, in the middle of all of it, Cala's face remained unchanged. Calm. Unreadable. Focused entirely on the objective.

Like she was the only one not in the fight—for her, this was work.

The auditorium was buzzing with reactions—gasps, awkward laughter, a few winces—as Team CDXS's battlefield turned into a mix of controlled chaos and narrowly avoided accidents.

Team RWBY watched from their bench, eyes wide and fixed on the clouded arena.

"Are... they even on the same team?" Blake asked, ears twitching from all the explosions and screaming.

Weiss huffed. "They are, technically. But I've seen better coordination from food fights."

Ruby leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "That was so cool, though! Cala just—boom! Right through the smoke! And then Sese's arrows were like fwooosh—"

"And almost hit her own teammates," Weiss interrupted.

Yang laughed. "Gotta admit, it was a mess—but they're actually winning somehow. Cala? She's a wrecking ball."

On the other side, Team JNPR was equally baffled.

Nora clapped gleefully. "I love them! You go! crazy cat!"

"Doppel," Ren corrected quietly, though his own brow was slightly furrowed.

Pyrrha, however, watched silently, arms crossed. Her eyes lingered on Cala.

"She's focused," she murmured. "Too focused."

Jaune blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure..." Pyrrha trailed off. "She fights like she's alone."

Before anyone could respond, a final explosion rang out.

The last member of Team BRNB, battered and low on aura, was caught in the edge of Sese's final arrow and Doppel's heel kick, sending him sprawling back as his aura meter blinked red.

The audience paused.

Even Glynda blinked once, unsure of what to make of it all.

"...Match over," she said, voice clipped. "Team CDXS... wins."

There was a pause, and then a mix of cheers and bewildered applause.

However, Glynda raised her hand again, her face grim as she strode into the ring with the grace of a woman who had already resigned herself to the migraine this would bring.

She stopped, her heels clicking against the damaged floor. She gestured vaguely at the smoldering arena, now marked with cracked tiles, scattered arrows, scorch marks, and a few still-smoking dummy remains.

"...That was supposed to be a team coordination exercise," she said flatly.

She looked directly at Team CDXS—Cala, stoic and unspeaking; Doppel still mid-stretch and grinning; Kumiko brushing dust off her spear; and Sese checking her gloves with a sigh.

"A team is more than four individuals swinging their weapons in the same general direction," Glynda continued, rubbing her temples. "You may have won by sheer overwhelming force and individual talent, but this was not what the exercise intended."

Doppel raised her hand. "But we technically didn't friendly fire anyone."

"We nearly did," Kumiko snapped.

Sese adjusted her scarf. "Perhaps we need to... revisit positioning."

Glynda sighed again. "Revisit everything."

She glanced once more at Cala, whose expression hadn't changed.

"...Especially your communication."

With that, she turned sharply on her heel, cloak swirling behind her.

The thunderous slam of the auditorium doors echoed behind them as Team CDXS stepped into the hallway, the sounds of the next sparring match already beginning to fade as they walked away.

Their walk was short-lived.

"I can't believe you told us to just 'support you in any way' and then blew up half the arena!" Sese snapped, yanking off her gloves one finger at a time with deliberate, tight motions.

"It worked, didn't it?" Cala responded curtly, her voice low, steady, and devoid of apology.

"Barely!" Sese threw her gloves into her locker with a frustrated groan. "We looked like headless chickens chasing after cannon blasts! That was not coordination. That was luck."

"I said I'd draw their attention." Cala crossed her arms, body still radiating that combat intensity, though her jaw was visibly clenched. "You were supposed to—"

"What, read your mind?" Kumiko chimed in, arms behind her head, her spear now slung across her back again. "Because you sure didn't say anything useful after 'Stay sharp.' Not exactly battle strategy, Lance."

Doppel pulled out one of her knives and pointed it vaguely in Cala's direction. "Also, someone blew up the left flank with fire dust right where I was! I had to dive into BRNB's archer just to dodge it! That's like the seventh or eighth time I almost got roasted by you, y'know? First time was initiation, remember nya?"

"You dashed into the blast zone," Cala replied tightly, eyes narrowing. "You're too unpredictable."

"Maybe, nya," Doppel said with a little shrug, "but at least I don't fire exploding cannonballs in melee range!"

Cala's hand twitched slightly near her weapon but she restrained herself. She exhaled through her nose.

"We'll fix the formation. Meeting. Back at the dorm," she said. Her tone was final. Unyielding.

"Oh now you want to talk?" Sese shot back. "Now that you've nearly blasted all three of us across the battlefield?! You didn't even acknowledge any of us out there!"

"I did," Cala replied, her voice lower now, but taut. "You were... in my way."

That was the match that lit the powder.

"In your—" Sese scoffed, and for the first time, her practiced nobility cracked. "That's not a strategy, that's an excuse to steamroll everyone and hope we keep up! You're not leading a team, you're charging through the enemy like we're just set dressing!"

"It was a misjudgment," Cala bit out, eyes narrowing.

"No, it's a pattern," Sese hissed, pointing a finger straight into Cala's chest. "You don't talk. You don't ask. You don't listen. And now you want to throw a meeting on us like that magically makes you a leader? Tell me, Lance, how exactly do you plan to manage this team if you can't even manage a conversation?"

Kumiko raised an eyebrow, amused despite herself. "Yeah, I'd love to hear this plan. 'Cause right now your leadership style is: bash first, ignore questions later."

Cala's fingers flexed. Her eyes darkened further. The muscle in her jaw twitched. Her lips parted slightly... and then tightened again.

"Don't push me," she said finally, her tone chilling.

Doppel blinked and held her hands up. "Woah, woah, okay! Calm, big lady! We're all just saying... maybe don't treat us like NPCs in your solo campaign, yeah nya?"

But Sese wasn't backing off. Her arms crossed as her words sharpened again. "No. She needs to hear this. You can't just tank through every problem and expect it to work forever. You're our leader. That means you lead. Communicate. Delegate. Plan. Didn't your parents ever teach you anything?"

Cala's eyes widened—just a fraction. But the silence that followed hit like a dropped sword.

The tension fractured the air. All three stared at her now. Waiting.

Cala didn't move. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Not even a grunt. No retort. Her pupils darted once—then froze again. Her arms dropped to her sides, hands loose, her whole frame locked in place like a statue cracking under pressure.

"...Tch." She turned, boots thudding against the tile as she walked past them, her back now to the team.

Kumiko frowned. "Wait—did we hit a nerve or—"

"Let her go," Doppel said, voice surprisingly subdued now. "She needs to... think. Or cool off. Or punch a boulder nya."

Sese watched her go, arms slowly falling to her sides. She didn't look satisfied. Just... tired.

"She's strong," Sese muttered quietly. "But she's still just a girl pretending she can carry the weight of a battalion on her back."

The silence stretched between the three.

Eventually, Kumiko sighed and adjusted her spear. "Well. Dorm meeting's still happening, yeah?"

"Yeah," Doppel said with a shrug. "With or without Miss Fortress nya."

They left the hall, a strange and heavy quiet between them now.

Cala, meanwhile, turned the corner alone, her footsteps echoing behind her.

She still hadn't said a word.

Cala's heavy footsteps echoed through the empty, dimly lit hallways as she made her way deeper into the academy, away from the noise, the judgment, and the arguments.

Her expression was stone. But her eyes—tired. Tense.

The repaired training grounds greeted her in quiet solitude, lights humming faintly above. Without a word, she reached up and began removing the armored plating of her chestpiece, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy clang. She stripped off the rest with methodical motions—shoulder guards, forearm plates, knee braces—each piece echoing louder than the last.

Relict Heirpiercer and Bastion of Dawn hit the ground next, steel on steel ringing in the space like a closing bell.

She walked straight to the equipment corner where spare tools and training gear were kept. She spotted the hanging rig. Grabbed a fresh punching bag from the rack. Hung it without ceremony.

Her fists clenched.

And then she struck.

The first hit landed with a sharp thwack. Then another. Then faster. And harder. The rhythm of her fists pounded against the bag like drums of war—rage-fueled, unrelenting, focused. Her expression never changed. But her body screamed fury. Or confusion. Or pain. Something that words could never carry.

Her breath quickened.

Her vision blurred.

Thwack. Thwack-thwack.

Her arms blurred into motion as she hammered the target again and again until—

CRACK.

The final punch burst through the bag's stitching. Sand and filler exploded outward in a cloud of dust and stuffing. The bag split and collapsed to the floor with a hollow flop.

Cala stood still, shoulders rising and falling. Her breath labored. Sweat clung to her brow and rolled down the back of her neck. She didn't move.

"You know," came a voice behind her, calm and smooth like still water, "it's quite impressive. Not just your strength—but your focus, your precision. And those eyes—sharp as drawn steel."

Cala spun—half on instinct, half in reflex.

There stood Professor Ozpin. Unarmed, casual in presence, his usual coffee mug held loosely in one hand as he stepped into the room with slow, deliberate steps.

He offered a polite nod.

"I was watching earlier, you know," he continued lightly. "This afternoon's sparring session. Fascinating, in its own way. Overwhelming the opponent with sheer force. Aggressive. Relentless. Chaotic... but effective."

He took a slow sip from his mug.

"Not a traditional style of team coordination, of course, but... one could call it a unique approach."

Cala said nothing. She turned back around without acknowledging him and walked across the room to retrieve another punching bag.

Ozpin's voice followed gently, never unkind. "There were good elements, of course. You read the terrain quickly. Positioned your teammates to keep momentum. Minimal time wasted on decision-making. And your leadership was... clear, in its intent."

The second bag was hung now. Her fists clenched again. Her shoulders tensed.

He continued, "In all my years, I've seen many kinds of leaders. Some bark orders, others inspire with silence. Some fight from the front, others from the rear. You, Miss Lance... you command by presence alone."

She raised her arm—but this time, didn't strike.

The air held still.

And then—quietly, but cutting—Cala spoke, not turning back to face him.

"...Why me?"

Ozpin stopped mid-step.

A pause.

The weight of her words hung heavy between them.

She stood, back still to him, breathing quietly in the silence, fists trembling ever so slightly.

The room was silent.

Ozpin stood still for a time, his ever-calm gaze resting on Cala's back. The silence between them was not empty—it was weighty, measured. A silence meant for thought, not for comfort.

Then, softly, he began.

"You know... a box is a strong thing. Reliable. Solid. Keeps everything in place."

He took a step closer, slow and steady.

"But a box also closes itself off. Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out. No matter how valuable what's inside may be—if it's locked away, no one can reach it. Not even those trying to help."

Cala remained motionless. Her breathing had calmed, but her stance hadn't eased.

Ozpin's voice was firm, not unkind. "You've spent so long building yourself into a fortress, Miss Lance. And I commend that. Truly. Your discipline is rare. Your strength—undeniable. And your presence alone commands respect. But leadership..." He paused, "Leadership isn't earned through silence and strength alone."

He walked past her weapon and shield, pacing toward her side but never intruding. "It's not because your name starts with 'C.' Nor because you stood tallest, nor loudest. You were chosen because you walk a path that others struggle to walk. Because your drive shows not only in how you fight, but in how much you endure."

Still, Cala said nothing. Her hands were looser now. No longer fists—just hands. Her eyes stared ahead, narrowed, searching, thinking.

Ozpin tilted his head thoughtfully. "A good leader doesn't command without trust. They share the weight. They rely on others not because they're weak... but because they know strength can be found in more than just themselves."

He looked to her. "You're not alone. But you act like you have to be."

Finally, slowly, Cala turned her head, just enough to glance at him. Her eyes flickered with something unspoken. Her jaw was tight. Her expression, unreadable—but vulnerable, barely.

Ozpin met her gaze with something close to sympathy. Understanding. A deep, quiet knowing.

"I understand," he said gently. "You're not the most social. You never have been. You didn't ask for this role. But..."

He took one last sip from his cup and then lowered it with a quiet sigh.

"...Your actions chose this for you, even if you didn't realize it. The way you stood at the front. The way you threw yourself between danger and your teammates. That instinct... that speaks louder than words ever could."

Cala's gaze faltered. She bit her lip, subtle, but telling. Her eyes—uncertain. Her expression—a crack in the steel.

He saw it.

That flicker of something. A memory. A shadow. A child long ago that once smiled, once laughed—once spoke. Buried beneath years of armor and solitude.

And maybe, just maybe... still there.

Ozpin bowed his head slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For what you lost. Whatever it was."

She blinked.

"I won't ask what happened. Only this—" He turned away, starting to walk.

"Grow," he said. "Or explore. Or... simply be honest."

He stepped away.

"Honesty is a powerful tool, Miss Lance. Don't underestimate it."

With that, he exited the training ground, his footsteps fading behind the gentle hum of lights.

Cala stood alone. Silent again.

The weight of his words lingered. Her fists unclenched completely now. Her arms loose at her sides. She turned and slowly walked to where her armor lay. Instead of picking it up, she passed it.

And sat down.

Quietly.

Shield and weapon still beside her. But her walls?

Maybe just a little lower now.

—

The dorm room of Team CDXS was lit with the soft orange hue of the setting sun pouring in through the window. The beds were slightly messy, cluttered with notes, discarded armor pieces, empty snack wrappers, and a few fashion magazines that clearly belonged to Sese. Kumiko leaned back in a chair, stretching with a yawn, while Sese stood near her desk with her arms crossed, tapping her finger thoughtfully. Doppel, as usual, had claimed someone else's bed—this time Kumiko's—curled into a lazy cat loaf with her tail swishing and her boots dangling off the side.

"I just don't think this is sustainable," Sese said, her voice crisp but clearly worn with concern. "We can't go on like this for the next three years. We're barely functional as a team."

Kumiko shrugged lazily, resting her hands behind her head. "You're not wrong. She's good, no question—Cala's combat instincts are spot-on, and she's got academics down cold. Probably the best fighter in our year. But she's always charging off on her own. Can't say it's very 'team' of her."

"Nya, she's scary-good though," Doppel chimed in lazily, not even lifting her head. "Every night, nya... I pass her when I go through the vents to get fish. She's always training. Like... every single night, nya."

Sese raised a brow. "Wait, what?"

Kumiko leaned forward, curious. "You spy on her training?"

"I mean, I just pass by!" Doppel defended, though her grin betrayed her lack of concern. "She doesn't even know. Always punching dummies, swinging that oversized lance, doing push-ups with her shield on her back, nya. Total fortress girl."

Sese exhaled slowly and shook her head. "That explains a lot, actually..."

"She's not exactly... bad," Kumiko added, scratching her head. "Just... closed off. Like she has her own war going on in her head and forgot we're even here."

"I know," Sese replied. "But we can't let that continue. I've been thinking—some kind of team training regimen, something coordinated. If she won't act like a leader, we at least need to make it feel like we have one."

"I don't wanna be leader, nya," Doppel murmured, stretching her arms. "Too many rules. Also I nap too much."

"Believe me, I'm not volunteering either," Sese said flatly, rubbing her temples. "I already have to juggle the wine business, modeling, family check-ins, and the ridiculous volume of fan mail."

Kumiko snorted. "Must be so hard being you."

Sese gave her a sharp look but didn't bother replying. Her expression softened just a bit. "Still... back in the sparring session—I think I hit a nerve when I mentioned her parents."

The room quieted a little at that.

Kumiko looked away, thoughtful. Doppel only blinked, her tail flicking as she recalled the moment—Cala's expression had faltered for just a second.

Sese sighed and turned toward the door. "I should apologize. At least try. Maybe that will open something up."

She took a step toward the door—when it clicked open.

Standing there was Cala Ad Lance.

Helmet tucked under one arm, armor partly shed, her jacket slung over her shoulder. Her face, flushed from training and still slightly slick with sweat, was expressionless at first. Her orange eyes met theirs—but the tension was immediate.

An awkward silence choked the room. Doppel paused mid-tail swish. Kumiko sat upright. Sese straightened instinctively.

Cala stood there, frozen for a moment—half inside, half out. She'd clearly just come back from another grueling solo session. Her jaw tightened slightly.

"...I..." Sese started to speak, but her voice cracked, uncertain now in front of the real thing instead of the plan.

Cala looked between all three of them.

And said nothing.

The tension still hung thick in the air like smoke after a dust blast. Cala remained in the doorway, staring ahead with that same unreadable expression. No one moved.

Sese inhaled quietly and then tried again, her voice softer but steady.

"I think... what I'm trying to say is—maybe... just maybe, we should try to work on coordination? Like, actual teamwork. Together. Not... you doing your own thing while we figure out how to not get run over by your cannon."

From the bed, Doppel groaned and facepalmed hard, dragging her hand down her face. "Nyaaa, please, that sounded like a group project line..."

Kumiko turned her head away, hand on her forehead. "Ow, secondhand awkward..."

But Cala didn't react the way they expected.

She simply nodded.

"Alright," she said plainly. "Where?"

Sese blinked.

Kumiko turned back around with raised brows. Doppel slowly lifted her head, mouth half-open in a silent wtf.

Cala took another step into the room, setting her helmet on her bed and rolling her shoulder slightly. Her voice was calm, but it wasn't empty—it carried a sense of resolve. A small one, but it was there. Faint, like an ember trying to burn.

Sese shook off her surprise quickly and smiled. "Well—since you asked! How about... Vale? We could go into town, do something casual. Shopping, maybe grab food, maybe... I don't know, act like normal girls for once?"

Cala hesitated. That idea was not something she was familiar with. The idea of "hanging out" was something other students did. It wasn't in her training regimen. It wasn't efficient. But—

She remembered Ozpin's words.

"Grow, Or explore. Or... simply be honest."

After a moment, she gave a subtle nod. "...Okay."

Kumiko blinked slowly. "Did... she just say okay?"

"She did," Doppel muttered, now sitting upright in her cat loaf like a statue, still staring at Cala like she'd just committed some kind of irreversible pact. "Cala, what have you done, nya?"

Cala gave Doppel a side glance, not answering.

Sese, however, lit up like she'd just won a high-stakes bet. "Perfect! This'll be fun! Teamwork bonding, field strategy... but in heels! Just you wait—this is going to be the most productive and fashion-forward training session Beacon has ever seen."

Before anyone could protest, she seized both Kumiko and Doppel by the wrist.

Doppel immediately began squirming. "Waitwaitwait—I didn't agree yet—"

"No time for doubt!" Sese declared with a flourish. "The battlefield is the mall, and our mission is unity!"

With a hum and a spring in her step, Sese yanked them both toward the door. Kumiko staggered a bit, sighing in defeat. "This is so weird."

Cala followed last. Silent. Still processing the sheer oddity of what was happening.

And yet—for the first time, she didn't feel like she was walking alone.

The steady hum of the airbus buzzed low beneath their feet as the small public airship cut across the skies from Beacon to Vale. It wasn't the smoothest ride, but it was practical, and right now, it was taking Team CDXS on a mission unlike any they'd expected: a casual hangout.

As the ship docked and they stepped out onto the platform overlooking the bustling city, Sese was the first to stride out—heels clicking with intent, scarf fluttering behind her, and an expression of sheer glee. She turned back to her team with the energy of someone leading an expedition to civilization.

"This is going to be fabulous," she announced. "We're not here for hunts, bars, or grades—this is about dresses, pastries, and the pursuit of social grace!"

Kumiko followed behind her, dressed in a simple casual outfit: a light tan skirt, a tucked-in long sleeve white shirt, and sandals. She adjusted the bag slung across her shoulder, muttering, "You're acting like this is a diplomatic mission."

"It is, in a way," Sese said with a grin. "For the survival of our sanity."

Doppel trailed behind, hands shoved in the pockets of her patched hoodie, patched shorts swaying with her steps. Her beanie was tugged low over her cat ears. Kumiko gave her a side glance and asked, "Is that really necessary?"

Doppel gestured casually toward a storefront plastered with faded bulletins. Among them was a grainy image of her unmistakable smug cat-face mugshot with the bold words:

WANTED: PETTY THEFT – REPEATED FISH STAND INCIDENTS

Kumiko squinted. "Is that..."

"Yep," Doppel said, nonchalantly. "Caught me licking a tuna head once. Was a good day, nya."

Sese rolled her eyes. "You're lucky most people think that's just a street mascot."

Cala walked behind them, hands tucked into the open leather jacket she wore. Underneath was a plain black shirt, cargo pants, and her heavy-duty boots. Despite her size and aura of armored command, she didn't stand out too badly—Vale was full of strange, strong, and stranger-looking types. But she looked a little... out of her element.

Still, she followed.

"You know," Sese said while twirling slightly in front of a boutique window, "I actually have three bar branches in Vale. High-class lounges—wine tastings, art decor, reserved atmosphere. But business can wait."

She whipped around to face them dramatically. "Today—shopping!"

Doppel groaned immediately, dragging her feet. "I thought this was combat training. Dresses are not my camouflage, nya."

Kumiko sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't even wear dresses. Like, I have them. I just... don't."

"I bet you've been photographed in them for Clan holidays," Sese shot back with a knowing smirk.

"hey! If that happens I would have been bribed with dumplings."

Cala simply gave a nod. "Understood. I will participate."

That earned a slow turn from the other three.

"You'll what now?" Doppel asked, head tilted.

"Participate," Cala repeated. Her tone neutral, but there was no sarcasm or irritation behind it. She was genuinely committing—at least by her standards.

Sese clapped her hands together. "Good! That's the spirit!"

She pointed dramatically toward the avenue of clothing stores, boutiques, and dessert cafes ahead. "To fashion! To friendship! To better team cohesion via excessive spending!"

Doppel muttered, "This is gonna be weirder than the time she put grape soda in the wine bottle that one time in the dorm."

With that, the four of them stepped into the heart of Vale's shopping district, the unusual but determined chaos of Team CDXS marching forward into the next kind of challenge—one involving mannequins, price tags, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of healing.

The mall was bustling with shoppers, lights glimmering above the wide marble floors, and a catchy pop song played over the speakers in the background. In the heart of it all was a massive fashion boutique—high-end, flashy, and very Sese. She practically kicked open the door like it was her runway.

"We're not leaving here until each of us has tried something fabulous," she declared, grabbing a shopping basket even though it wasn't necessary. "I'm paying. Don't fight it."

"I wasn't gonna," Doppel said, already darting toward the grungier punk section like a raccoon spotting an open trash can.

The changing room aisle was soon a flurry of activity. First to step out was Doppel herself, dressed in a torn fishnet top over a jagged crop shirt with a skull logo, spiked wristbands, shredded denim shorts, and high lace-up boots. Her beanie remained firmly in place, tilted stylishly. Her tail flicked behind her, completing the rebellious punk-rock aesthetic.

She struck a smug pose. "Well?"

Kumiko blinked, unimpressed. "You look like someone who would scream 'anarchy' and throw tuna cans."

"I'd pay to see that performance," Sese said, amused.

Cala stared. "...That outfit is inefficient for armor coverage."

"Exactly, that's the point," Doppel replied proudly.

Then came Kumiko. She stepped out with a calm shrug in a sleeveless, shorter modernized qipao in teal with golden embroidery and a slit on the side. She had her hands in her pockets, one brow raised and a lazy smirk on her lips.

Doppel gave her a once-over and then clapped. "You look like someone I'd find in a Mistral alley asking, 'Hey, wanna see something fun?'"

Thunk!

A shoe sailed through the air and bonked Doppel in the head. "Rude," Kumiko muttered.

"I'm just saying!" Doppel rubbed her head. "It's a compliment, nya!"

Sese, ignoring the chaos, twirled into the aisle next. She wore a rich royal-blue frilly dress, embroidered with silver, her blonde hair styled back with a glimmering pin. She blew a dramatic kiss toward her reflection and then to the others.

Doppel gave a nod. "Peak Sese. Very wine-label-core."

"Gorgeous," Kumiko admitted. "You're probably the only one who could wear that and not look ridiculous."

Cala, standing silently, nodded. "It fits your persona."

Then came Cala's turn.

The door opened and she stepped out.

A full grey turtleneck. A long charcoal scarf draped around her shoulders. Slim, black pants with silver chain accessories. Black boots that clunked with each step. Topped off with black sunglasses that hid half her face.

She looked like she stepped out of a cold-themed action movie or a secret agent photoshoot. Her posture was upright, rigid, yet commanding. If it weren't for the long orange hair cascading down, most would've mistaken her for a handsome young man.

There was silence.

Doppel's jaw dropped. "That's... that's a dude. That's not fair, nya."

Kumiko tilted her head. "You look like one of those magazine cover guys who sell cologne and brooding silence."

Sese blinked, her eyes slightly wide. "Honestly... you could steal more girls than the actual male models."

Behind them, two of the boutique staff peeked around the corner, cheeks flushed red as they whispered amongst themselves, eyes wide.

Cala, ever the stoic, adjusted the scarf and turned her head with cold precision.

But her ears were burning.

"Very efficient outfit," she muttered.

Sese was already loading the checkout basket. "We're taking everything. And we're going to a café next."

Doppel groaned.

Kumiko sighed.

Cala blinked... but didn't protest.

—

The soft murmur of voices and clinking of cups filled the warm little café nestled in the quieter corners of Vale. Sunlight beamed through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the table where Team CDXS sat, dressed in their fresh new clothes from earlier.

Kumiko sipped a steamy cup of Mistrali green tea, her posture relaxed, one leg over the other.

Sese elegantly stirred her rich black coffee, pinky up like it was second nature.

Doppel, in contrast, sat low and hunched like a loaf of cat in her chair, sipping through a straw with her eyes darting toward the "WANTED" poster stuck just outside the café window. Her own grinning face on it made her ears twitch.

And Cala—stoic, towering Cala—was quietly sipping a tall glass of bright orange juice, the only one with a fruit drink among them. Her eyes scanned the table, soft, taking in her team as they talked about everything and nothing.

It was nonsense chatter—chaotic, aimless, and oddly comforting.

Kumiko was in the middle of a passionate, half-lazy rant, arms lazily gesturing as she grumbled, "Every so-called qipao in Vale is just a dress with a side slit. No proper collars, no embroidered sleeves, no respect for the folds! I swear, if one more boutique calls it 'Eastern inspired', I'm going to challenge their tailor to a duel."

Doppel was half-listening, half-staring at the street outside, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Fish Market #3 locked their storerooms last night. Again. And I know there was fresh salmon in there, I smelled it. They're evolving. Next thing you know they'll put in guard dogs—oh wait, they did. But dogs don't stop me." Her tail flicked confidently, then paused. "Electric fences might, though."

Sese, ever the composed noble, leaned back with her coffee cup in hand, one leg crossed over the other in effortless grace. "And don't even get me started on the new fashion line—Dust & Desire. I saw the promo shoot. Ruffled lapels, gold chain accents, navy and frost blue palette—mine. That's my winter collection from last year. They didn't even change the name tags properly on some of the sketches. My mother would sue, if she weren't still recovering from that incident with the wine crate avalanche."

Cala just listened.

Watched them argue and banter and bicker with light in their voices. She sat there, quietly sipping a tall glass of orange juice, her presence like a calm shadow beside a fire. She didn't have anything to add. Not really. These weren't her kinds of conversations.

And yet... she didn't mind them.

Kumiko now mimed a clumsy tailor stabbing themselves with a needle. Sese fluffed her scarf in defiant pride. Doppel whispered conspiratorially about bribing a seagull.

It was all nonsense.

But it was alive. It was human.

And for once, Cala didn't feel like she was sitting outside the world, looking in.

She sipped again—cold, sweet citrus on her tongue—and let herself be part of it.

Then, out of nowhere, Cala spoke up.

"...Why did the Mistrali chef get kicked out of the bakery?"

The group paused.

Kumiko raised a brow. "What?"

Cala looked straight ahead. "...Because he kept beating the dough with a spear."

Silence.

Then—

"PFFFTHAHAHAHAHA!"

Kumiko burst so hard she choked on her tea and leaned forward, laughing uncontrollably.

Sese blinked, then let out a high-pitched giggle as she slapped Cala's back with a refined, "Oh dear, that's so bad—please don't do that often."

Doppel was gone. Full-on cackling. She pointed at Cala, her other hand clutching her gut. "She's blushing! Cala is actually blushing—nyaaahahaha!"

Kumiko, now half under the table, pointed at Cala too. "You said that with a straight face! Oh gods, that was awful—perfectly awful—!"

Cala's lips pressed into a flat line, her ears visibly red, her cheeks burning, as she stared silently at her juice like it could save her from the moment.

Sese tried to keep composure but had to cover her mouth as laughter shook her shoulders. "You—you looked so serious and then that came out."

Cala sighed, her face flushed. "I regret speaking."

"No no, don't regret it!" Doppel slapped her back harder than necessary. "It just doesn't fit you—like a tank making a balloon animal!"

Kumiko, tears in her eyes now, managed to wheeze, "I can't—I can't—Tank Lady telling dad jokes—haahaha!"

Doppel, not done, added, "She'll charge into Grimm and then stop and go, 'Hey! Why did the Beowolf cross the road—'"

Sese slammed her hand on the table again, trying not to spit her coffee. "Stop—! Please—I'm crying!"

Kumiko finally just burst again, laughing so hard she squeaked. "I—I think I peed a little—oh my gods—!"

"...Seriously?" Cala said, both appalled and alarmed.

Sese was dabbing her eyes with a napkin, tears of laughter streaming. Doppel had her forehead on the table. Kumiko rolled onto her side under the table still giggling.

And Cala, though flustered beyond belief, let herself... smile.

A small, rare thing. But real.

Because in that chaos—those stupid jokes, those loud laughs, the blushing and teasing and Sese's refined coffee-dripping-from-her-nose elegance—she understood.

Ozpin was right. She didn't need to do it alone. She didn't need to be alone.

Being honest with herself... meant admitting that maybe she wanted this. Needed this.

Maybe the fortress could open its gates just a little.

Maybe a team... could be home.

Twilight had settled over Vale, the amber and violet skies casting long shadows along the cobbled streets. The cool breeze carried the smell of baked goods and exhaust, and the occasional clang of airbuses docking echoed faintly in the distance.

Team CDXS walked in stride toward the airbus station, their energy notably more relaxed than earlier.

Doppel stretched, arms behind her head, casually musing, "So... what do we do tomorrow, nya?"

Kumiko, lazily rubbing one eye, blinked—and then suddenly snapped upright, panic overtaking her relaxed posture. "Wait—I didn't finish my homework!"

Sese, without missing a beat, sighed and gave her a side glance. "You should have done it last night, like a responsible Huntress."

Kumiko tried to argue, raising a finger. "Well I was—!"

"I'm sure the excuse was riveting, but perhaps you'll submit it as your thesis on how to fail with flair, Mistrali edition," Sese replied smoothly, her arms crossed.

"...Okay, I shut up now," Kumiko grumbled, pouting.

Doppel yawned and stretched again. "Ughhh, I just wanna eat some fish, nya..."

Cala walked silently behind them, her hands in her pockets, eyes watching the shifting sky. Deep in thought, she slowly realized... today wasn't bad. Not bad at all. In fact—it felt normal. Real. She could almost feel the stress of the academy, of being the "lone fortress," slip just a bit.

But then—

A shout cut through the street.

A rough, loud voice, filled with desperation and threat.

They all stopped at once.

Just ahead, outside a modest little dust shop on a corner block, three ragged-looking thugs were mid-robbery. One was screaming at the owner, a trembling middle-aged man. Another had grabbed a younger girl—barely older than them—likely the owner's daughter, holding a pistol to her head.

"Hand over the lien and dust now or the girl gets it, old man!" the gunman barked.

Kumiko blinked. "Huh. Found your siblings, Doppel."

Doppel, unimpressed, clicked her tongue. "I'm a thief, not a robber, nya. There's a difference."

Sese, arms crossed, tilted her head. "Enlighten us."

Doppel smirked. "I have standards."

Cala, however, didn't move. Her eyes were locked on the scene—every angle, every threat. Then her voice, calm but edged with steel:

"We're taking care of this."

Kumiko glanced sideways. "Uh, not to kill the vibe, but we don't have our weapons."

Mid-sentence, she was cut off by Doppel, who casually spun a dagger between her fingers. "Someone always comes prepared, nya."

Cala didn't look back, but she nodded slightly.

"Good," she muttered.

She paused. The old her might have rushed in. But now...

She remembered what Glynda said about coordination—what Ozpin told her about trust.

Turning to Doppel, Cala asked, "You know the vents in this area?"

Doppel blinked, then grinned. "Of course, nya. I sleep in them sometimes. Why?"

Cala didn't answer yet. She turned to Sese next. "Your semblance—can it home in on anything you throw?"

Sese raised an eyebrow. "Yes. As long as I mark them. Where are you going with this?"

Then to Kumiko: "Can you fight hand-to-hand?"

Kumiko smirked, cracking her knuckles. "I was trained by the Xen clan."

Cala nodded once, slowly forming the plan. Her hand reached subtly into her jacket, feeling the cool handle of a small combat knife she kept hidden—just in case. A good thing she always carried it.

Then she looked at her team.

"We may not have our weapons. But we do have our strengths. That's enough."

She backed them into the shadows of an alley, just out of sight of the goons.

"I've got a plan," Cala said firmly, her eyes scanning them. "Do you trust me?"

They each looked at her for a beat.

Kumiko gave a lopsided grin. "Boss lady's talking serious. Alright, let's go."

Sese crossed her arms. "This better not be another dad joke."

"...It's not," Cala muttered under her breath.

Doppel winked. "Just tell me who to stab, nya."

Cala exhaled, then leaned forward.

"Alright. Here's what we'll do..."

The street had grown quiet—too quiet.

The buzz of foot traffic had pulled away from the robbery, leaving only the trembling shop owner, the terrified daughter, and the loudmouth goon barking orders.

"I SAID DROP THE LIEN OR SHE GETS A BULLET BETWEEN THE EYES!"

The main robber gripped the girl's arm tightly, the shaking weapon pressed to her temple. His partner, jumpy and sweating, kept fumbling through the register drawers behind him, spilling lien as he cursed and panicked.

And then—

A soft, gentle voice floated in.

"Oh my goodness! What's going on here?"

The robbers turned.

At the far edge of the street, a young woman with golden curls and an oversized navy scarf stood frozen in surprise, holding a large designer shopping bag with both hands. Her bright blue eyes were wide with perfectly played naiveté.

Sese.

"What's all this shouting about?" she asked, blinking innocently.

The gunman whipped toward her. "Get outta here, lady! This ain't your business!"

"I—I was just going to get a drink!" she squeaked, taking a nervous step back. "Please don't shoot!"

As their attention pivoted to the seemingly helpless girl—

A flash of black and purple dropped silently from the shadows of the rooftop above.

Doppel.

In one fluid motion, her daggers slid into her fingers like fangs drawn from a serpent. With cat-like precision, she slinked low behind the distracted robbers, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief. One dagger flicked—click.

The safety on the gun was off.

She slipped it free from the gunman's hand like she was stealing candy, then disarmed the second man just as easily. A flick to the back of his belt, and both were weaponless before they even realized it.

And that's when—

Cala and Kumiko struck.

From opposite ends of the street, Cala charged like a freight train, boots slamming into pavement, leather jacket trailing behind her like a cape. Her powerful frame moved with purpose—calculated.

From the left, Kumiko leapt like a hawk, her form fluid, efficient. The folds of her shortened qipao barely rippled as she slid low, hooking the legs out from the robber holding the girl.

CRACK.

Cala's shoulder slammed into the first man's chest with bone-crushing force, pinning him to the shop's front wall. He crumpled like wet paper.

At the same time, Kumiko landed a spinning kick to the other man's ribs, sending him tumbling over the counter. The girl, now freed, crawled away sobbing—but unhurt.

And before the third man could even shout—

Thump!

A can of processed fruit struck his forehead, followed by a tin of powdered dust, then a roll of receipt paper that unraveled as it tangled his limbs.

Sese, now grinning with a glint of playful sadism, stood near a knocked-over basket of shop items, casually tossing whatever she could grab with elegant arcs. Every single item honed in on the marked targets like guided missiles—thanks to her semblance.

She blew the tip of her finger like a gunslinger. "Mmm. Still got it."

The three robbers were out cold. Groaning. Piled up like trash at the curb.

The dust shop owner slowly stood from behind the counter, face pale, breath shaking. His daughter clung to him tightly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Th-Thank you... All of you... Thank you so much..."

Cala, brushing her long orange hair back behind her ear, exhaled. "No worries."

The words slipped from her lips calmly. Smoothly. Earnestly.

And then—

"GAAAAASSSSPPPP!!"

Kumiko, Doppel, and Sese all leaned toward her in exaggerated unison, mouths agape like cartoon characters.

Sese placed both hands on her chest. "D-Did she just say—No worries.?"

Doppel looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Wait, wait, who are you, and what did you do with Fortress Girl, nya!?"

Kumiko mock-fainted backward into Sese's arms. "I never thought I'd live to hear it...!"

Cala gave them a sidelong look. "...Shut up."

Her ears were red.

The team's laughter echoed through the twilight.

They left the shop behind as the police sirens approached in the distance. The airbus station came into view as stars blinked into the sky above.

"Calaaa~ nya~," Doppel teased, nudging her arm. "You can be a softie if you want! Awww~"

Sese smirked. "Next thing we know, she'll be hugging us in our sleep."

Kumiko groaned. "Don't tempt fate. She might punch us afterward."

As they climbed aboard the airbus, Cala exhaled and leaned against the railing, her eyes on the passing city lights.

She didn't respond to the teasing.

But a very, very subtle smile touched her lips.

The vast Beacon Academy auditorium rang with the mechanical stomps of training dummies—tall, armored machines bristling with blunt weapons and shock batons. These weren't the usual sparring bots. These were advanced combat dummies, programmed for coordination and aggression, designed to simulate real battlefield chaos.

At the far back of the auditorium, Professor Glynda Goodwitch stood with arms folded. Her sharp green eyes scanned the ongoing simulation with critical precision. Her lips, a thin line.

Beside her, Professor Ozpin stood as calmly as ever, sipping his ever-present mug of coffee.

The display before them?

Team CDXS.

But it was no longer the disjointed foursome from weeks ago. No. This was different.

It began with a flash—

Doppel darted ahead first, her daggers flashing in her hands, dancing between the incoming machines like a streak of purple lightning. She kicked one robot in the head, vaulting over it as she flung a dagger into a sensor on another's back. "One down, nya!"

"Kumiko!" Cala's voice rang sharply.

Kumiko, yawning mid-dodge, flipped to the side and extended her hand—Cala launched a broken pipe toward her like a javelin. Kumiko caught it mid-air, spun with blinding grace, and jammed it into the side of another robot, twisting it as sparks flew.

"Too easy," Kumiko muttered with a lazy grin.

"Center-left!" Cala barked.

Sese was already in motion. Standing atop a small maintenance platform, she flicked coins—literal coins—into the air like bullets, her semblance locking on to targets.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

Each coin became a homing shot, striking robots right in their exposed joints. She looked radiant and dangerous, her blonde hair whipping with every toss, eyes gleaming.

"Doppel!" Cala called again.

The cat faunus zipped up a metal scaffold and leapt across, pulling three wires free and wrapping them around a robot's neck and arms, electrocuting it with a makeshift trap.

BOOM!

The final dummy lunged for Cala, swinging wildly.

Cala didn't move.

She waited.

Waited until the perfect moment—

Then sidestepped, grabbed it by the shoulder, and slammed it down with such force the dummy split in half.

Silence followed. A low mechanical hiss as the last sparks from the downed dummies fizzled out.

The room was still.

Team CDXS stood in a loose diamond formation, backs to each other, watching every angle—perfectly synchronized.

Glynda's mouth opened slightly. She gave a small exhale. "Well..."

She clicked her scroll. The simulation ended.

"...That was good."

Ozpin tilted his mug toward her slightly, the corner of his mouth curling. "I told you," he said softly. "Sometimes, it's not about strategy drills... It's about knowing when to trust them to grow."

Glynda gave him a side-glance, then returned her gaze to the stage.

Down on the floor, Cala Ad Lance stood still, helmet off, her orange hair glinting in the training lights. She was breathing calmly. Her expression: the same stone-faced neutrality as always.

But inside her?

A slow, powerful warmth.

Like a locked box, long forgotten, quietly clicking open.

She had trusted them.

They had trusted her.

They fought as one.

She felt the echoes of laughter from the café, the teasing, the gasps, the kind gestures. The feel of their presence not just as allies—but as teammates. Friends.

Cala didn't smile outwardly.

But her shoulders relaxed.

Just a bit.

And up in the stands, Ozpin sipped again. "She's changing," he said aloud, mostly to himself.

"She's learning," Glynda added quietly. "They all are."