Chương 31: The Solitary Light

The gravel path beneath Pyrrha's boots had dissolved into a blurred streak of gray as she ran, her vision swimming in a hot, stinging haze. She didn't stop until the manicured edges of the courtyard gave way to the wilder, denser foliage of the outdoor gardens. Here, the air was cool and thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, but it did nothing to soothe the burning tightness in her chest. Pyrrha collapsed onto a stone bench tucked beneath the bowing branches of a weeping willow.

She drew her knees to her chest, burying her face in the fabric of her skirt, and let the tears flow freely. Her shoulders shook violently. The quiet of the garden was broken only by her ragged, uneven breathing and the occasional, choked sob she tried so desperately to stifle.

'Stop trying to pull me down just because you're terrified that I'll actually catch up to you!' Her mind was a chaotic storm of replay. Jaune's voice, distorted by a raw, ugly anger she had never heard from him before, rang in her ears like a physical blow. The absolute conviction in his eyes when he accused her of wanting to keep him weak, it was a knife through her heart. She had sacrificed sleep, bypassed her own training, and poured every ounce of her soul into helping him.

To have it twisted into some sort of selfish, insecure control tactic felt like a betrayal of everything they had built.

"Pyrrha!" A soft, frantic voice broke through the rustling leaves. Pyrrha flinched, hastily wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, though she knew it was a futile effort. She looked up to see Ruby leading the rest of Team RWBY, Nora, and Ren down the stone path. Their faces were etched with deep, unmistakable worry.

"Oh, Pyrrha..." Ruby whispered, rushing forward and dropping to her knees on the damp grass right in front of the bench. She reached out, gently placing her smaller hands over Pyrrha's trembling knee.

"We saw the whole thing," Yang said softly, her usual bravado entirely absent as she stepped closer. She crossed her arms, her head tilted in sympathy.

"Well, we heard most of it, anyway. We were behind the pillar."

"I... I am so sorry you had to witness that," Pyrrha whispered, her voice cracked and hollow. She looked away, her fingers nervously tracing the gold trim of her armor. A fresh tear slipped down her cheek, catching the faint, silvery light of the shattered moon.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to make a scene. I just... I don't know what to do anymore." Weiss stepped forward, her posture rigid but her expression remarkably soft. She sat down on the empty space of the bench next to Pyrrha, placing a comforting hand on the champion's shoulder.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Pyrrha. Jaune was incredibly out of line. To accuse you of trying to hold him back, after everything you've done for him? It was completely unacceptable." Pyrrha closed her eyes, a heavy, trembling sigh escaping her lips.

"But is he entirely wrong? I... I looked at him tonight, and all I could feel was this overwhelming fear. He was tearing himself apart, refusing to use his Aura, and I just wanted him to stop. I wanted him to go back to being the boy who laughed at my terrible jokes, the boy who needed me to guide his shield hand. When he said I was terrified of him catching up... a part of me wondered. Am I trying to keep him safe because I care, or am I keeping him weak because...

because I'm afraid of what happens when he doesn't need me anymore?" She looked at her friends, her emerald eyes wide and desperate, searching for an answer.

"I don't know who is wrong anymore. Is it him for pushing too hard, or is it me for trying to stop him?"

"Pyrrha, stop that right now," Blake said, her tone quiet but incredibly firm. She stepped closer, her golden eyes locking onto Pyrrha's with absolute certainty.

"You are not the bad guy here. You are watching someone you care about slowly destroy themselves under the guise of 'training.' Wanting to protect him from his own self-destruction doesn't make you selfish. It makes you human."

"Yeah, Pyrrha," Nora said, her voice unusually quiet and somber. She sat on the grass beside Ruby, her legs crossed.

"Jaune is a dummy sometimes. A huge, stubborn, blockheaded dummy. But he doesn't actually think those awful things about you. He's just... he's hurt. And when people are hurting and scared, they lash out at the person closest to them. Because they know that person is the only one who will stay."

"She's right," Ren added, his voice a calm, stabilizing anchor in the emotional tempest. He stood slightly behind the others, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Jaune is carrying a burden of inadequacy that has only grown heavier since the Battle of Beacon. He saw the gap between his current strength and the threats we face, and it terrified him. He loves his team. He loves his friends. And more than anything, Pyrrha... he loves you. It is that very love that is driving him to this extreme. He is so desperate to ensure he never has to watch you walk into danger alone again that he is willing to burn his own life away to prevent it."

"He really does," Ruby said, squeezing Pyrrha's hand.

"Whenever we're planning, or training, or even just hanging out in the library, his eyes always follow you. He looks at you like you're the absolute center of his world. He's just... he's so blinded by his own fear of losing you that he's hurting the very person he's trying to protect." Yang let out a soft sigh, reaching down to gently ruffle Pyrrha's red hair.

"Give him a little time to cool his head. Saitama is talking to him right now, and if anyone can make that idiot realize how dumb he's being, it's the bald guy." Pyrrha sniffled, a tiny, watery smile finally breaking through her grief. The sheer, unwavering support of her friends felt like a warm blanket wrapping around her shivering soul.

"Thank you. All of you. I... I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," Weiss said firmly, squeezing her shoulder one last time. The tender moment was suddenly interrupted by a lazy, rhythmic dragging sound. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. From the shadows of the garden path, Saitama slowly emerged. He was holding a large, industrial-sized push broom, lazily dragging it across the stone path even though there was barely any debris to sweep.

He wore his slightly oversized green janitorial suit, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking entirely like a man who wanted to be literally anywhere else in the world. He stopped a few feet away, leaning heavily on the handle of his broom and resting his chin in his hand. He blinked his small, dotted eyes at the huddle of emotional teenagers.

"Uh. Hey," Saitama said, his voice a flat, unbothered drone.

"It's getting pretty late. That scary lady with the crop, Glynda, right? Yeah, she told me to sweep up the outer paths and make sure all you kids are back in your dorms. She said if I find anyone loitering, I have to report them. And honestly, I really don't want to write a report. Writing is exhausting." Ruby, Yang, Weiss, Blake, Nora, and Ren slowly stood up, brushing the dirt and grass from their clothes.

"Right, we should probably head back," Ruby said, checking her scroll.

"It is past curfew." Pyrrha sat quietly on the bench for a moment, her gaze lingering on Saitama. She looked at the giant, flat-faced man who had fallen from another world, the man her partner was desperately trying to emulate. A sudden, quiet resolve settled in her chest.

"You guys go on ahead. I... I'd like to stay for just a moment," Pyrrha said softly, standing up.

"Saitama, can we... can we talk?" Saitama's eyes widened slightly, his face blanking into an expression of pure, unadulterated dread.

"Wait, what? No..." Saitama began to feel annoyed.

"I just had to do a whole emotional speech thing with the blonde kid. My brain is completely fried. Can't you guys just talk to each other? I'm literally just a guy with a broom." Pyrrha didn't answer. She just looked at him with a quiet, pleading intensity. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Behind her, the other six students didn't move. Instead, they turned in unison to face Saitama. Nobody said a word.

Ruby gave him a wide-eyed, trembling puppy-dog stare. Yang crossed her arms, raising a single, highly suggestive eyebrow. Weiss glared with aristocratic expectation. Blake simply stared, unblinking, while Nora and Ren gave him identical, heavy-lidded looks of silent, psychological pressure. Saitama stood under the collective weight of their silent judgment. A bead of sweat rolled down his bald head.

"Ugh... seriously?" Saitama groaned, his shoulders slumping so low his broom almost slipped from his hand.

"You guys are really making me do this? I'm not even getting paid overtime for this emotional labor stuff."

"Thanks, Saitama! You're the best!" Ruby chirped instantly, her somber mood instantly pivoting into her usual energetic self.

"We'll be in the common room, Pyrrha," Ren said with a gentle nod. With quiet, supportive glances, the six students turned and walked back toward the dormitories, their footsteps fading into the quiet night. Silence descended upon the garden once more. The wind rustled the willow branches, casting shifting, checkered shadows across the stone path. Saitama stood there for a few seconds, completely still, before he let out a sigh so heavy it sounded like a tire deflating.

He walked over to the stone bench and leaned his broom against the willow tree. Before sitting down, he reached into the side pocket of his green janitorial suit and pulled out the second, chilled aluminum can of fruit juice he had bought earlier from the faculty vending machine. He held it out toward Pyrrha, the metal slightly less icy than before but still cool against the humid night air.

"Here," Saitama said flatly.

"The banana-hair kid got the other one. You look like you need it more than he did, though." Pyrrha blinked in surprise, her hands hovering for a split second before she gently accepted the can. The unexpected, mundane warmth of the gesture caught her off guard.

"Oh, thank you." Saitama finally slumping onto the opposite end of the bench from her. He leaned back, his knees spread wide and his hands resting on his thighs, looking exactly like a tired middle-aged man after a long shift at a convenience store.

"So," Saitama said, staring blankly at a nearby bush.

"What's up? If this is about that boy's training form, I already told him his posture is garbage. If he keeps doing push-ups like that, his shoulders are gonna pop right out of their sockets." Pyrrha looked at the can in her lap, tracing the smooth aluminum edge before looking at his side profile.

"It's not about his form, Saitama," She took in the utterly ordinary, unheroic posture of the strongest being she had ever met.

"It's about... him."

"Yeah, he's kind of a handful," Saitama muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, half-eaten piece of hard candy, popping it into his mouth.

"Very high-energy. Too much drama. Back home, my disciple Genos is always talking about 'destiny' and 'justice' and burning things down. The kid reminds me of him, just... way louder and with worse gear." Pyrrha let out a soft, sad chuckle, her fingers tightening around the juice can.

"Jaune wants to be like you. He wants to copy your routine because he believes that if he can just become strong enough, he can protect everyone. He thinks that strength is the answer to his helplessness."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Saitama said, chewing on the candy.

"He told me he wants to stand next to you. Said you were 'invincible' or something." He turned his head, his dull, dotted eyes locking onto her.

"Are you?" Pyrrha flinched slightly, her gaze dropping to the dirt.

"No. Far from it. I... I have won tournaments, yes. People call me a champion, a prodigy. But on that tower... when Cinder possessed that terrifying power, I realized how fragile I truly am. I was prepared to die, Saitama. I went up there knowing I wouldn't come back. And Jaune... Jaune was forced to watch me walk toward my death, completely powerless to stop me." She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

"He is doing this because of me. The guilt of my near-death is driving him mad. He wants to copy your training because he thinks that if he achieves your kind of strength, he will never have to feel that terror again." She paused, looking at Saitama with a sudden, desperate curiosity.

"You are the strongest. You have no limits. When you achieved this power... did the fear go away? Did you finally feel like you could protect everything?" Saitama stared at her. The lazy, bored demeanor didn't change, but his eyes seemed to soften just a fraction. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at his own gloved hands.

"You guys really overthink this hero stuff," Saitama said simply.

"I told the kid earlier: getting this strong didn't fix my life. Actually, it kind of ruined my favorite hobby. Now, whenever a giant monster shows up and starts destroying a city, I just walk over, punch it once, and it explodes. There's no tension. No excitement. My heart doesn't beat fast anymore. I don't feel the rush of a close battle. I'm just... bored." Pyrrha blinked, utterly taken aback by the casual existential dread in his voice.

"You... you feel bored?"

"Super bored," Saitama emphasized, waving a hand dismissively.

"And as for protecting everything? That's a scam. You can't protect everything. No matter how fast you are, or how hard you punch, you're only one guy. While I'm fighting a monster in A-City, a monster in B-City is probably stepping on a grocery store. It happens. You just do what you can." He turned back to her, his expression remarkably blunt.

"Your boy Arc is trying to become a god so he doesn't have to feel scared. But that's stupid. The only reason he's scared is because he actually cares about you. If he becomes a guy who can't feel anything, like me... then what's the point? He won't be the guy you wanted to protect anymore. He'll just be a bald guy in a green suit who really worries about supermarket sales." Pyrrha stared at him, her breath catching. The sheer, unvarnished simplicity of his perspective felt like a cold splash of water.

He wasn't offering her grand, philosophical comfort. He was just showing her the hollow reality of the peak Jaune was trying to climb.

"A bald guy in a green suit..." Pyrrha murmured, a genuine, soft laugh escaping her lips. The heavy, suffocating tension that had gripped her chest since the argument finally began to dissolve.

"Exactly," Saitama said, pointing a finger at her.

"You don't want him turning into me. I don't even have a pension. And my hair is completely gone. Do you have any idea how much money I spend on sunscreen now? It's ridiculous." Pyrrha laughed again, wiping away the last trace of a tear. The sheer absurdity of the conversation was incredibly healing.

"I suppose... sunscreen is quite expensive."

"It really is," Saitama sighed, pushing himself up from the bench and grabbing his broom.

"Honestly, though... that kid has no right to be sitting over there acting like the most miserable guy in the world. He's actually incredibly lucky." Pyrrha stopped laughing, turning her head to look at him, confused.

"Lucky? How do you mean?"

"He's got you," Saitama said flatly, pointing a blunt finger at her.

"He's weak right now, totally at zero, but he has someone like you who actually gives a crap about him. Someone who sits out here crying because she's worried he's gonna hurt himself." Saitama looked back out at the quiet gardens, his tone dropping into something unusually quiet, bordering on nostalgic.

"Back when I was at zero, doing those push-ups and squats every single day until my arms felt like they were melting... I had absolutely nobody. No friends, no teammates, no girls crying over me. I just went back to my tiny, empty apartment, ate some cheap cabbage, and woke up the next day to do it again." Pyrrha felt a profound wave of sympathy hit her chest. She looked at the bald hero, remembering the stories he had briefly shared before.

"But... what about the people from your home? Your disciple, and the other ones you told us about? They care about you, don't they?" Saitama let out a dry, short chuckle, scratching his cheek.

"Yeah, I guess they do. Maybe. But you know when they actually showed up? Only after I was already powerful. Only after I could already split the sky with a punch." He turned his dull eyes back to meet Pyrrha's emerald ones.

"Nobody was there for the ordinary, weak version of me. But Jaune? He has you right now, while he's still struggling at the very bottom. He doesn't have to be strong for you to look at him. That's why he's an idiot for yelling at you." Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly, a profound warmth spreading through her chest at his words. Even in his own incredibly blunt, unceremonious way, Saitama was telling her that her presence in Jaune's life was vital.

Not to stop him from striving, but to be the anchor he was so foolishly trying to break away from.

"So look," Saitama continued, shifting back into his usual dry, indifferent tone as he stood up.

"If the kid wants to train, let him train. Pushing past your limits is the only way to actually get anywhere, and I'm not gonna tell him to stop. But his form is still total trash. He's probably gonna snap a bone or pass out face-first in a bush." Saitama leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Pyrrha.

"If he's gonna keep pushing himself like that, you'd better be there to take care of him when he breaks. When his body crashes and he can't get up, he's gonna need someone to drag him back inside and patch him up. You're a team after all, right?" Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words.

Even in his own incredibly blunt, unceremonious way, Saitama was telling her that her presence in Jaune's life was vital, not to stop him from striving, but to be the safety net he was so foolishly trying to throw away.

"Yes. That is what teammates are for," Pyrrha whispered, a small, genuine smile forming on her face"Anyway, I've done enough talking for the next three weeks," Saitama sighed.

"My jaw is tired. You should go back to your room. If Glynda catches us out here, she's gonna make me mop the library, and those shelves are incredibly dusty." Pyrrha stood up, holding the half-finished juice can, her posture regaining its natural, elegant grace.

"Saitama..." She looked at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Saitama grumbled, waving a dismissively lazy hand as he turned to drag his broom back down the path.

"Just make sure he doesn't slack off on the squats. Most guys skip leg day, and then they look top-heavy and ridiculous. But seriously, make sure he's doing it outside. If he barfs from the exhaustion on my clean hallway floors, I'm making him clean it up." Pyrrha watched him disappear into the shadows of the willow trees, a quiet, resolved smile resting on her lips. The night was still dark, and the road back to Jaune would be long and difficult. But for the first time, she felt like she knew where to start.