PhiloPhilosoPhilosophy
patreon
Memories Broken/Truth Unspoken Chapter 1(RWBY Fanfic with Slight SI Elements)
🕑 Added 2022-05-29 04:25:46 +0000 UTCThere’s something about being in a tree that makes you become philosophical.
Why are we here? More specifically, why am I here?
This forest is filled with Grimm. I know because there’s a pack of Beowolves baying and howling. They showed up right after the first human I saw left.
Speaking of said human, fuck that white lass was a bitchadoodle for leaving me stuck up in a tree. She just walked right in, walked right out, nary a word to say to me. Fucking bitch. Least she could’ve done was help me down. Or at least return my greeting.
Now I’m stuck here, trying to figure out why I’m here and how I’m getting out of here.
Ugh, I feel as though I’m concussed. The lack of memory certainly isn't helping one bit. Who am I? Why am I here? Why am I here in a forest filled with Grimm? Why has a red and gold spear pinned my favorite hoodie to the tree?
The fact that the spear was the only thing keeping me from falling to my doom was minute compared to the idea of having to fix that hole. Seriously. That’s going to be a bitch and a half to sew and fix.
Also, I guessed it’ll be a problem when the spear finally cuts through my hoodie and dropped me into the pack of hungry Bewolves. I imagine I’ll be chunky salsa in minutes. Very excruciating minutes.
Seriously, fuck this howling. It’s doing nothing, it’s actually doing worse than nothing for my headache. Deep and grating, I get that it was supposed to make me scared, but all it was doing was making me pissed off. Stop howling damn it.
…Fuck it, if I’m going to fall to my doom, let it be on my own terms. Reaching up, I grabbed the spear. Bracing two feet against the tree, I yanked the damn thing out. Near immediately, gravity took over, but I worked with it, running down the tree to skewer one, two, three Bewolves that had scrambled on top of one another.
As they faded to wisps of darkness, I stood up from my knelt position, taking stock of the situation. Surrounded by a pack of Beowolves, I should be feeling… scared, terrified, horrified, something other than this eerie calm.
And I was feeling fear, but not because of them. I found my fear actually alleviated when I dove into them with a howl of my own, nothing but a red and gold spear for a weapon and gravity pulling me down.
Having my memory be so fuzzy, so forgotten was frightening. There’s so much uncertainty. My name unknown to myself, my purpose a mystery, the fact that my past was forgotten made the future all that more uncertain.
In that sense, fighting was… blissful. Painful at times, an uphill battle constantly, but blissful. Take a hit, avoid a hit, give a hit, return a hit. It was hit, hit, hit, a rhythmic beat between my enemies and myself.
My philosophizing had ended as soon as I stopped being stuck in a tree and the Beowolves started attacking in full.
A thrust with the spear killed one beastie, a quick withdrawal from the fading body and then a sudden sweep with the tip of the spear beheaded another, but then there were too many upon me and not enough room to use it well. Twirling the spear around in a full-body spin forced them to back off, at which point I threw the spear to lance through the leg of one.
With a grin on my face, I drew a longsword from my side, raising it up to behead the injured grimm.
A blow to the back pushed me forward, but the metal chestplate I wore bore the brunt of the impact, preventing any actual injury. The breath was knocked out of me though, but I rolled away regardless with wheezing gasps.
Fuck. That hurt. No time to relax, I had to keep on rolling to avoid the pounces. Eventually, though, I was pinned. The damn beast roared in my face, a wet and disgustingly warm action.
Stupid of it. Should’ve just bit me because that gave me time to knee it in the groin. Despite it not having the bits, the Beowolf still whined in pain from being hit in that area, causing it to loosen its grip, and allowing me to stab it in the throat with my sword.
Fucking ow. Forcing myself up, I found that the pack was wary now. Backing off, giving me space. Their mistake, but an understandable one.
Call it hubris, but I was feeling pretty good about how I was doing.
Walking towards the spear, I pulled it out, twirling it to place it down butt-first to leanon, taking advantage of their wariness to rest just a bit. Fighting these things had helped jostle the old memories a bit.
Still didn’t know my name, but I knew why I was here at least. Grimm were creatures of darkness, hellbent on eradicating humanity from this world. Uncaring, unrelenting, they hunted us. Hunters hunted them. And I was a Hunter right now.
Seeing as I killed about a dozen of them while concussed and running on nothing but instinct, it seemed as if I wasn’t half bad at this shit.
Spear in my left hand, sword in my right, I spat a bloody-red gob to the side.
Yes, this was simple. This was right.
No worries to be had, simply a wonderful fight.
Hunting that which hunted humans.
Luck truly was on my side if I already received an answer to the oldest question of every being’s life mere moments after I had been so lost.
Why am I here? To Hunt.
“Well, then,” I clashed sword and spear together in a challenging clang, “Are we going to stand around all day or are we going to fight?”
The answering howls were much more pleasant as a backdrop to a fight.
---
I heard somewhere, don’t remember exactly where, but I heard somewhere that fighting is like sex. It’s intense, it’s intimate, and it’s thrilling in the moment.
That being said, I really, really hope the bit after sex is nothing like right now.
My entire body felt bruised, breathing hurt, and while I wasn’t bleeding externally, the amount of blood I had to spit out made it clear, I was bleeding internally. Aside from that, I felt great. Dead Grimm, empty clearing, nice tree to lean against, it wasn’t orgasmic, but there was a warm afterglow in a good fight.
Wonder if it’s just me in this forest? It’s going to suck if I have no one to ask for directions or even what to do.
“Jaune Arc?” a prim and proper voice asked softly, neatly answering that question. Yes. Not alone in the forest of murder-beasts.
“Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Lady’s love it. That’s me,” I smirked before hacking up another bloody gob. Fuck. Not a single damn cut on me, but being tossed around like a hackysack probably did not do any favors for my internals. It’s fine. The blood’s inside me. That’s where it’s supposed to be.
More importantly, why’d I parrot that cheesy ass line in response? Was I… Was I cringe? Fuck, I totally was a cringey boy? Time to unpack that later.
“Oh, you’re--” a short gasp and the voice’s owner rushed in, “You’re injured!”
Anime was real. Still have to figure out what anime actually is, but looking at this gorgeous red-haired real-life fox girl of a beauty, I knew, for a fact and without a doubt, that anime was real. The weird Greco-Roman armor was a bit strange, but she was a bona-fida fox girl, so I didn’t care that she wasn’t in a kimono.
Many things could be forgiven for a fox-girl. Besides, a woman in armor implied she could kick my ass, and that’s just hot.
“That I am, luv,” I acknowledged, injecting every bit of suavity I could into the phrase “Just taking a rest though. Should be right fine in a jiffy.”
Why am I becoming more British? I don’t even know what the British are, but it’s annoying me that I’m sounding more like a stinking Brit. Ugh, not only do I have amnesia, I’m also becoming mildly delirious and even more incoherent.
Wonderful.
Kneeling beside me, the vermillion vixen began checking on me, “Shouldn’t your aura have healed you by now?”
I wobbled my head in an indication of uncertainty, “I have a concussion and mild amnesia. Mind explaining it for me?”
“Aura is the manifestation of our soul. It bears our burdens and shields our hearts. Have you--” she gasped as I spat out yet another wad of blood. Fucking hell, why does my body have so much blood? It’s irritating to have to spit up so much, “It’s supposed to heal you! Why aren’t you using it!?”
I blinked twice as I remember where I heard of aura. It was like this magic shield thing that made life so much easier. I also remember crying a lot about it. Wonder why?
“Ah, right, that. Yeah. I don’t think I have it activated.” I answered. Yes. I’m sounding less like a Brit. Still no idea what that is, but happy I’m not sounding like one.
“...What?” the fox-girl stated blandly.
I shrugged, holding back a hiss when it jostled my bruises, “I got the old school training, luv. Do or die, I’m supposed to awaken the damn thing in the midst of combat.”
I technically didn’t lie. Old-school training used to involve dropping the pupil into life or death situations. At least that’s what anime and manga has led me to believe.
…Wait, what’s anime and manga? Are these actual memories or delusions? I fucking hate how my amnesia is mixing with my delirium.
“That’s barbaric!” the red fox-girl scowled.
“Yes, well, tell that to dear old dad,” I growled. I then blinked as memories came unbidden. Actually, not so much memories, so much as intense emotions. Intense emotions for my father that I quickly repressed. I apparently have pent-up anger and resentment towards my dad. Good to know then. I’m going to repress and forget that as best as possible.
That also explained why I remember crying over aura! I had an argument with dad over activating it. Hm, I guess his reasoning that it would just attract Grimm to me did make sense, but if I had training, that’d be moot.
…I think that’s what his reasoning was. Having your aura activated meant your soul’s emotions were easier to track by the Grimm. Or something. I don’t know. I have amnesia. It sucks. Some things are clear, others are not, and some are so obvious until you think about it and then you have more questions like how you know what you know.
Hands twitching, the red-haired lass suddenly smiled as if she had found the solution to all of life’s problems, “I can activate your aura! That’ll fix everything!
Near immediately, I denied it, “I’ve gotten this far without it. Wouldn’t want to drain your reserves when I can do just fine without it.”
That’s another reason dear old dad used to avoid activating aura, I think. It drained the aura of the person who was activating another person’s aura. Not by much if fox--girl is just offering to do it for me. I’m starting to think he just didn’t want me to be a Hunter. Wait, shit, that is probably exactly what he was aiming for.
Why is everything so much clearer now that I have amnesia?
Her smile died as she protested, “You’re coughing up blood!”
“I’m doing jolly well fine without it!” I returned heatedly. I then had to throw my head to the side to avoid choking on my own blood. Definitely should not have yelled there. I wiped my face, “Ignore that. I had a jam sandwich earlier.”
I lied. I don’t remember what I ate. I don’t think she cared though.
“Again!” she pointed empathetically, jerking her hand back to point again and again, “Coughing up blood!”
“I’ll be fine. I can stand on my own two feet,” I scowled, doing just that and using the spear as a crutch.
“Can you do it without my spear!?” the fox-girl asked. She didn’t sass. She sounded like she wanted to, but she was just a bit too polite for that.
She did have a point. Mighty impolite of me to use something of hers without permission. Ignoring the fact that she had probably been the one that pinned me to the tree. Weirdly enough, I didn’t feel any anger about that. The spear had been useful in the fight.
“Oh, is this yours? Here,” I returned her spear with a toss and flung out an arm in presentation, “See! No spear.”
Catching it, she pinched her nose, adorable fox ears flicking in annoyance, “You’re using your sword now.”
I purposefully leaned on it some more to be annoying and not because it was getting hard to stand, “Sometimes we all need a little help.”
“Then let me help you!”
“...No.”
I didn’t know why I was being so stubborn about this, but it felt really important that it was. It didn’t matter if I died. If I died, that was dad’s fault for not training me properly, so hah. Should’ve activated my aura, old man. Look at me now. I killed a pack of Bewolves half-delirious, fully forgetful, and I’m only mildly bleeding out.
The world’s spinning. Going to definitely have to eat some meat and beans to replenish the blood I’m losing.
…Hm. That entire thought process had all sorts of red-flags. Yikes. There’s definitely trauma to unpack from there.
Still, I stand by-- Why are your eyes watering? Pretty fox-girl, please don’t-- Oh no. Oh nononono. Oh please no. Don’t start-- And yup. Those are tears
“Please?” she pleaded, tears swelling in her eyes. Is she-- She’s sniffling now.
“No, don’t- don’t cry,” I stammered, reaching out to try and wipe her face before withdrawing when I realized how blood my hands were. Hm, definitely should not have wiped my mouth with my hands, “I’m not dying.” My body then traitorously forced me to cough. I swallowed back the blood, “I’m really not.”
“Yes. You are!” she yelled, stomping her foot. Ugh, this was just like Amber. I hate it when she starts crying and yelling. I always end up giving in to my little sis when she does that. Well, too bad, fox-girl. You’re not my little sis. I won’t give in to--
And now she’s wiping her face with her tail…
“Ugh, fine. You can activate my aura,” I surrendered, letting myself sit down, “Just stop crying.”--Licking my lips, I then decided to push my luck--”Also let me pet your tail.”
“Sure,” the red-haired lass smiled brightly, still sniffling just a little, before laying a hand on my shoulder, “Thank you for letting me do this.”
I shrugged. I was being stupid anyhow.
Hand on my shoulder, the fox-girl closed her eyes and began intoning.
For it is in passing that we achieve immortality.
Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all.
Infinite in distance and unbound by death,
I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee.
Each line she spoke was a different stage of intimacy in the process to activate. The bit she spoke about souls? It was true. This was a communion on a level spiritual. I felt her soul as she felt mine, and… her soul felt… pure, simple, straightforward. Like metal created not in a forge, but tempered on the battlefield. Prideful and powerful, but simple in its intent to protect.
I wonder how she saw mine. I hoped it was good. Seeing-- Feeling the beauty and strength of her soul, I knew I had to match it. The process couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but it felt so personal.
Connection. Transferral. Guidance. Release.
Each line she had recited was a different part. Our souls had connected, she gave me power and taught me how to use it. Then she withdrew my hand, leaving me to hold this power alone. A deep breath, a bit of focus, and I set my soul ablaze.
…I should’ve let her do that way sooner. Wow, everything hurts so much less now. I can still taste blood, but that’s just residue.
“That feels… nice,” I admitted. Flexing my hands, I stood up and stretched, feeling every ache and pain simply melt away, “Wow, everything’s fixed already.”
“I’m glad,” the fox-girl smiled beautifully, “You have a lot of aura.”
She then wobbled. Immediately, I grabbed her shoulders to stabilize her, leaning in to check on her condition, “You okay?”
“I’m fine, just a bit drained. I’ll be fine with a bit of rest,” she waved off my concern, wriggling free of my grip, “More importantly, why were you so stubborn about that!?”
Looking away to hide my blush, I answered sheepishly, “I don’t know. Just felt like I had to prove something.”
“To who?”
“My dad,” I sighed, pulling my sword free of the dirt. Giving it a few swings to get most of the grit off, I sheathed it, “He’s a bit of a hardass. Never mind that, what’s your name?”
“Huh?” she tilted her head to the side, “Don’t you know?”
“Luv,” I drawled with a raised eyebrow, “even if we were introduced before, I have a bit of a concussion. My memories all jumbled right now.”
“Ah,” she blushed before bowing her head a bit, “Well then! My name’s Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos.”
Upon hearing her name, I remembered a scene from a… cartoon? It should’ve been an idle recollection, a casual dismissal, but there was a pain in my heart on remembering that moment.
Of remembering seeing a non-kitsune version of the Pyrrha Nikos I saw now, fighting and dying to a… I don’t remember who that Pyrrha died to, but that was less important than remembering that Pyrrha had died. No less strong, no less beautiful, all that more tragic in that she died in spite of her strength and kindness from an arrow to a heart, the centerpiece of a…
Shit. I don’t remember anything more. Annoying. Also, fucking terrifying.
No idea how prophetic or even true that vision/memory/hallucination was, but I made a vow to not let it happen. Ever. Kind and strong and merciful, I will not let you die, Pyrrha.
“Nice to meet you, Pyrrha Nikos,” I smiled, hiding my reaction to that vivid and sudden remembrance and sticking out a hand, “I suppose we’re partners then?”
Gripping my hand, Pyrrha smiled shyly, “Partners.”
She then began walking into the forest.
A smile on my face, unease in my heart, I followed her. Today was the first day of my life from my perspective as a fresh amnesiac. My knowledge was vast, but about as deep as a puddle and filled with more holes than a moth-bitten sweater.
“So…” I asked casually as we trekked through the forest together, “You ever wonder why we’re here?”
---
AN:
SO this is a reboot of my glitter and gold fanfic from way back when. I want to tackle the idea of an amnesiac approaching the world and power system of RWBY with two sets of half-baked memories that are merging together to give the wildest conclusions.
