The Rose of Nakajima

Crowded, today. Blake Belladonna noted as she entered Junior's bar and nightclub.

Every table has someone at it, even the one way in the back where she usually sat. If it weren't for the fact she'd been seen walking in, she'd have turned and walked out, but doing so now would just draw attention, and her paranoia wouldn't allow her to do that, not with the fact she was being followed.

Instead, she quietly ordered a soda, nearly bumping into some drunk in grey with a tattered red cape, and made her way over to the back table, the least crowded part of the bar, with the only occupant being a girl dressed in black, doing something on her scroll.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asked the girl, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the music and other patrons. Part of her hoped she'd say no, Blake didn't trust strangers at all, and would usually prefer standing in a corner to sitting with someone she didn't know. The other part of her hoped the girl would say yes, as she had been on her feet all day and wanted at least a few minutes of rest. Besides, a girl sitting down was harder to see than a girl standing, and if she wasn't alone whoever was following her might not give her a second glance, provided they followed her into Junior's, anyway.

"Nein." The girl said, then shook her head. "No. Go ahead." Her accent Blake couldn't place, but it was tremendously thick, and she found herself confused at the girl's first utterance. What does 'Nein' mean?

Still, she took the across seat, getting a closer look at the girl. Something about her made Blake curious.

Her silver eyes were the first things the cat faunus noticed, and not just for their very unusual color. There was a dullness to them, as if the girl had seen too much to continue undamaged, yet there was also undeniably a spark in her eyes as well; an adamant refusal to give in to whatever had caused the horrors the girl had seen.

The girl's physical appearance was a bit less captivating, but Blake didn't deny she looked cute, to an extent. Her hair was down to her waist, black for the most part, fading into red at the tips, a contrast to her pale skin. Her thin facial features made her look delicate, but there was a strength to her that made Blake doubt how delicate she really was.

Her outfit, however, was as simple as it was monochromatic. She wore a simple black turtleneck underneath a black longcoat, along with black gloves.

Why gloves indoors? Blake wondered, though she didn't bother asking aloud. The girl, she noticed, was studying her back.

"Goldene augen…" The girl whispered, before shaking her head and speaking louder. "You are scared of something. Was fürchtest du—What are you afraid of?" The girl asked something first in a language Blake couldn't identify, before asking a question in Valian.

"I'm sorry?" She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"That you are afraid is obvious. It shows in both your voice and demeanor. You entered scared and still are. What is it you fear?" The girl slid her scroll closed before putting it away, and took a sip of her drink, waiting for Blake's answer.

She didn't answer, simply gazing at her in distrust. The girl let out a small sigh.

"You do not trust me. Das ist akzeptabel. I understand."

The girl's eyes suddenly went to the door.

"Is that who you were afraid of?"

Blake didn't take the bait, and didn't turn around.

"Two men, black suits. Grey hats. Looking around."

Blake stiffened again, one hand going to her side, where a handgun was concealed. She had Gambol Shroud hidden under her coat, but with its current position, drawing it would be both awkward, and noticeable.

The other girl seemed to notice, and her hands disappeared to under the table.

There were several seconds of silence, as Blake listened for any sign her pursuers had noticed her, while the girl kept watching the door.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and as Blake moved to draw her gun, a gruff voice sounded behind her, not one of her pursuers. She stopped, gun not yet clear of her jacket.

"Hey, kid." An older man plopped into one of the two remaining chairs, the one on Blake's right. It was the drunk from the bar, the scent of alcohol clinging to him, making Blake wrinkle her nose in distaste. Sometimes, a faunus's enhanced senses were an annoyance.

"Wacher-Biest." The other girl greeted him. "I thought you would still be getting drunk. Did you not tell me not to just drink and 'hang around' with you?" Her eyes had not left the door, and she seemed to not note Blake's tension, which was still rising, though the odd apparent title confused her slightly.

"Yeah, well, when you set my scroll off right after those two—" The man jerked a shoulder towards the doorway, his words slurred a bit, "—Walked in, I figured I should come see what's up." He glanced at the girl, apparently saw something, and his hand reached back to under his cape, where Blake saw the hilt of a blade.

A Huntsman?

"What's going on, kid?" His voice now was perfectly sober, and had a dangerous edge to it. He turned to look at Blake. "Does it have to do with her?" His red eyes bored into Blake, mild hostility evident in the gaze of a veteran huntsman.

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking." The girl told him. "She came in looking scared, and when I brought them up, Sie spannte sich an, als würde sie kämpfen."

The man looked at her, and she seemed to realize she'd slipped into another language again.

"She tensed up as if she were about to fight."

"And that was severe enough for you to extend your claws?" Claws? She's a faunus, too?

"If a threat were presented where I could not use my weapon, such as in this space, yes. I do know how to use them non-lethally." The girl assured him, her eyes still locked onto the door. "They're leaving."

Blake slowly turned, keeping her gun in hand. Sure enough, her two pursuers were exiting the club, obvious in their black suits and grey hats.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that." She said, holstering her pistol and putting both hands on the table, in a placating gesture.

The huntsman released his grip on his weapon, and put both of his hands on the table as well. There was a few seconds of silence as the girl's hands moved under the table.

"So, care to tell us what that was about?" He asked, as the girl placed both of her hands on the table, black gloves having apparently been removed and replaced.

"Just… Something I did coming uncomfortably close to catching up with me." Blake responded, uneasily. The man was a Huntsman, telling him everything would be monumentally stupid.

"That's really specific." The huntsman snorted, before catching the girl looking at him in disapproval. "What?"

The girl sighed and shook her head.

"Drücken Sie nicht. Jeder hat seine Gründe für die Geheimhaltung." The girl told him, before shaking her head again and speaking in Valian. "Do not push. Everyone has their reasons for secrecy. Given my own circumstances, can we fault her for keeping things concealed, when we keep so much hidden ourselves?" 

What does she mean by that? Blake wondered.

The man sighed himself, shaking his head.

"Not really." He sighed again, shook his head, and stood up. "I'm headin' back to the bar. Text me again if you need me."

"What time are we leaving?" The girl asked as he began to leave.

"An hour or two." Came the response over his shoulder.

The girl nodded as she returned her gaze to Blake.

"Thank you." Blake tilted her head in gratitude. "I don't like people pushing into my affairs too deeply. Thank you for respecting my privacy."

"No problem." The girl responded. "I am curious also, but I do not think my curiosity outweighs your privacy. And I did notice the White Fang tattoo on the back of one's wrist. I can draw some of my own conclusions."

Blake grimaced. The girl was a bit more perceptive than she hoped.

"My one question is this; Why do you hide your ears with a bow?"

Blake's thought processes ground to a halt. She knows, she saw through it, how did she do that—

"Your bow flattened when I mentioned the men, rose again once they left." Oh. That's how.

"Please, don't—"

"Tell anyone?" The girl flashed a grin. "We all have our secrets to keep." A scroll buzzed as she spoke, and she drew it from her coat, flipping open the screen as she did so. Blake made to leave, as the girl answered a call.

"Ritter Ozpin." She greeted the person on the other end of the call, paused a few seconds, and spoke again in the odd language she had spoken earlier. "Ich habe meine Antwort für dich. Ich habe beschlossen, dass ich Ihr Angebot annehmen und Ihre Akademie besuchen werde."

She stopped, listened again, and responded again.

"Dann werde ich dich in sechs Wochen sehen. Gute Nacht." She took the scroll away from her ear, ending the call. "My apologies, Ozpin of Beacon called."

"You know Professor Ozpin?" Blake sat back down. "And what was that language?" Just who is this girl?

"Yes, I do, and the language was…" She hesitated. "Actually, don't worry about it. It is a dead language anyway. As for how I know Ozpin, that drunkard," she inclined her head at the bar, more precisely, the red-caped huntsman still drinking, "Is a close friend of his, and since I have come to Vale, I have been staying with him. I have met Ozpin in his company a few times."

"Since you came to Vale?"

"I am not a native, if you have not noticed." The girl said with a small grin, before turning quite serious. "I would prefer to not dwell on what led me here, if you do not mind." I can understand that.

"Can I ask what that was about?" Blake queried her, changing the subject a bit.

"You just did." The girl noted, before continuing. "The call was about my admission to Beacon. I will be attending the academy when the school year begins in six weeks."

"So why a call from the headmaster himself?"

"I will be the youngest student on record at the Academy. Hence the call." Youngest student on record?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I will be the youngest student to ever attend Beacon Academy."

"Ah." Blake nodded in understanding. "Fifteen?"

"Correct. I—" The girl's scroll rang again, and she glanced down at it, before grinning slightly.

"I need to take this. Goodbye." She said, standing.

"Goodbye." Blake bid her farewell, and pulled her own scroll out, setting it on the table in front of her.

There was a single unread message in her inbox. She tapped on it, and read through it while downing her soda, which was now flat.

Blake smiled as she set down the empty glass.

See you in six weeks. She thought, looking down at her letter of acceptance into Beacon Academy.