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.

They started off as rumors. Whispers in the hallway and speculation on the internet. And then, one week before the sign-up deadline, she appeared on television to confirm it herself. Pyrrha Nikos would be returning to defend her title as champion. Without knowing why, or at least not admitting it to yourself, you registered for the tournament two days before the deadline.

Last year you had done well, but this year you weren't as lucky. You were so focused on Pyrrha, so caught up with the idea of meeting her in the arena, that you allowed yourself to get distracted. You ignored the fact that you hadn't prepared for the tournament at all. Ignored the fact that everyone else had been. You made it to the top eight but were defeated before you even had the chance to see her again. It would be another year before you got the chance again.

You were determined now. You had to be better if you wanted to make it to the finals. You created a strict training regiment and stuck to it. Every day your muscles burned as your body dampened with sweat. You trained for hours on end for the one day you might see her again. It looked so small, so far away from where you were, but in the end it would be worth it. It was worth fighting for. She was worth fighting for.

That year you fought tooth and nail to get to the finals. Though Pyrrha Nikos was indisputably the crowd favorite, having won the past two years, you soon found yourself gaining an increased amount of attention. The media took notice of your impressive placements in the past and were now shining light on your improvement from last year as you climbed your way into the quarter finals for the third year in a row.

Soon you found yourself once again facing off with the Invincible Pyrrha Nikos. The match was by far the longest in the tournament's history, lasting just over an hour. You were exhausted and sore, but still you fought. Every stroke of her sword countered or parried as you fought your hardest to stay in the running, not because you wanted to win, but because you wanted to keep the match going. To stay with her as long as you could, because once she beat you, it would be another year before you would see her again.

The fight ended sooner than you would have liked, but after seventy minutes you just couldn't keep up. She snuck past your guard and soon you were once again being offered her hand as she helped you onto your feet. The cameras and news crews flooded the field, and you were just about to start heading backstage when you heard your name being called. You turned and saw the red-haired beauty beckoning you to join her in front of the cameras.

That summer was filled with interviews and press tours as you toured the Kingdom alongside Pyrrha, news stations eager to have the three-year consecutive champion and the two-time runner up onscreen together. Offscreen the two of you formed a strong bond, quickly becoming close friends. You began training together, and in those moments, you learned to appreciate her for who she was, not the invincible champion the public saw.

The two of you became familiar with the other's family, having dinner at the other's house at least once a week. Your mothers would often drop hints of how cute the two of you would be together, and in unison the two of you would blush deep shades of crimson. Your relationship was in the eye of the public as well. The paparazzi flooded the internet with photographs of the two of you. During interviews the subject would always inevitably find its way to your relationship, the host pressing for further details. Were you two an item, and if so, for how long? Your response was always the same. Both of you would smile and shake your head, politely asking the topic be returned to the upcoming tournament. And still, neither of you ever verbally denied the claims.

It was your last year at Sanctuary, Pyrrha's last year at Sanctum. Only one more fight before you both departed for bigger and better things. You talked about what it would be like, what you would do. For so long this tournament, each other, had been a huge part of your lives. In the end you both agreed to fight your hardest. You would meet each other on the battlefield one final time, and when that time came neither of you would hold back.

The time soon came for the final match of the 75th annual Mistral Regional Tournament. The crowd went wild as you and Pyrrha faced off for the third time. If you won today, you would go down in history for defeating the Invincible Pyrrha Nikos. If Pyrrha won, she would forever be remembered as being not only the youngest Mistral Regional Champion, but the only person to ever have claimed four victories, a record that could never be beat.

As you locked eyes with Pyrrha, the two of you made a silent agreement. Win or lose, you would put on a good show, the best show. A fight that would be remembered for decades to come. A fight that all others would be compared to. The buzzer sounded and the match began.

It lasted longer than it had the previous year. Both of you had trained long and hard for this day. This fateful day when you would meet for the final time on the fields of battle. An hour passed, then two. Every cut was perfect, every block flawless, and whenever one of you managed to get the upper hand the other would be quick with a rebuttal to knock you back on even footing. You whittled away at each other's aura until both of you were on the edge of losing. The crowd watched with bated breath as you narrowly avoided being knocked out of the game. And then Pyrrha made a mistake.

As your Bident aimed at her head she intercepted with her spear, your blades locking, but her shield arm was just a hair too high, likely compensating for the exhaustion she was feeling. A quick shield bash with your Aegis would provide just enough of an opening to knee her in the ribs. Instead of acting on this opportunity, you smiled to yourself. Pyrrha wanted this win more than you did. Pyrrha deserved this win more than you did. And besides, in your mind you' already won.

She threw her shoulder into your shield, creating distance between the two of you. As she charged at you, you blocked her spear with the Aegis, but allowed your Bident to drop ever so slightly, providing the opening she needed to claim victory. The crowd went wild, and as Pyrrha offered you a hand up, she gave you a knowing smile. It would be your little secret.

After the exciting match, your families had dinner together, where once again your mothers tag teamed the both of you, trying to convince the two of you that there would be nothing cuter than the two of you as a couple. You both laughed and protested, but throughout dinner you stole furtive glances at one another, locking eyes and smiling softly. No words were needed to describe your relationship. No label was needed. You both knew what you meant to each other, and for now, that was enough. There was plenty of time to think about that later. Or at least there should have been.

It was all a distant memory now. It seemed like so long ago that you first saw her in the arena, her smile causing butterflies to take flight within your stomach. Now the world was darker without her light. You were darker.

The night was silent. The raging fire set the black sky ablaze with light as it turned the White Fang camp to ash. And there you stood, your darkened eyes staring into the scared helpless face of the Faunus on the ground in front of you. They released a strangled cry of pain as you mercilessly stabbed your Bident into their gut, blood pooling in their mouth.

You turned your back on the dead figure, replacing your Aegis on your back as you left the camp to burn to the ground. They gave you what you needed. Another piece of the puzzle. One more step closer to tracking down the woman that took the love of your life. One more step closer to avenging her death. All you had to do was keep fighting. So that's what you did. You kept fighting. Because she was worth fighting for.