Arslan and Pyrrha's Rivalry (Revised)
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AndrewJTalon
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Pyrrha Nikos had always been alone in a crowd.
Back in Mistral, at Sanctum Academy, she was the Invincible Girl—untouchable, literally and figuratively. Tournaments, cereal boxes, sponsorships, agents scheduling her every breath. People cheered from afar, whispered about her feats, but no one ever just... talked to her. No one dared sit next to her in the cafeteria without asking for an autograph first. She smiled politely, signed whatever was thrust at her, and went home to an empty dorm room that felt more like a trophy case than a living space.
Then came Arslan Altan.
Arslan was everything Pyrrha wasn't allowed to be: grounded, intense, unflinchingly serious. Training to become a warrior nun in the Tablebreaker Church, she moved like poetry in violence—bare-handed strikes that could shatter stone, aura control so precise it hummed like a hymn. She moved and spone with quiet authority, and from the moment they sparred in their first Sactum academy exhibition, Arslan locked onto Pyrrha like a heat-seeking missile.
"Pyrrha Nikos," Arslan had said after their match, bowing deeply. "You are a worthy opponent. I challenge you to prove who is the superior warrior between us."
Pyrrha blinked, flustered. "I... thank you? But it was only an exhibition—"
"Next time, we settle it properly."
And that was how it started.
The challenges escalated quickly, but never in the arena. Arslan, in her infinite stoic wisdom, decided that true superiority could only be determined through... everything.
First came the pie-eating contest at the Mistral Harvest Festival. Arslan cornered Pyrrha outside the tournament grounds, arms crossed, expression grave.
"Pyrrha Nikos! I challenge you to a pie-eating contest to determine who is the superior warrior between us!"
Pyrrha stared at the table piled high with blueberry, apple, and pumpkin pies. "Arslan, this is... a festival booth. For charity."
"Precisely. A warrior must endure hardship. Begin!"
They sat. The bell rang. Pyrrha, ever polite, took dainty bites at first. Arslan inhaled pies like a vacuum, face utterly serious, crumbs on her cheeks but eyes burning with competitive fire. By the end, Arslan's stack was gone, Pyrrha's barely dented.
"I... concede," Pyrrha said, wiping her mouth.
Arslan nodded solemnly. "Victory is mine. You fought well."
Pyrrha smiled hesitantly. "That was... fun, actually."
Arslan paused, then gave the tiniest upward twitch of her lips. "Indeed."
Next was rock-paper-scissors. In the middle of the Sanctum library, no less.
"Pyrrha Nikos! I challenge you to a best-of-twenty-one rock-paper-scissors contest to determine who is the superior warrior between us!"
The librarian shushed them furiously. Pyrrha, cheeks burning, agreed just to end the scene. They huddled over a study table, fists pumping.
Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Arslan threw rock every. Single. Time.
Pyrrha, trying to be strategic, varied her throws—and lost spectacularly.
"You... always throw rock," Pyrrha pointed out afterward.
"A warrior must be unyielding," Arslan replied, as if that explained everything.
Pyrrha laughed—a real, surprised laugh that made Arslan's ears turn pink.
Then came the shopping mall. Arslan appeared outside Pyrrha's favorite boutique, arms laden with bags already.
"Pyrrha Nikos! Today we shall go shopping and to the salon. We will determine who can achieve the greatest beauty, and thus prove who is the superior warrior between us!"
Pyrrha's agent nearly had a heart attack when paparazzi photos surfaced of the Invincible Girl trying on dresses with the stoic Haven prodigy. Arslan critiqued outfits with military precision: "This red complements your hair but lacks defensive coverage." At the salon, Arslan sat ramrod straight while stylists fussed over her platinum blonde hair, declaring, "Shinier hair denotes superior vitality!"
Pyrrha's hair ended up in loose waves, Arslan's in a sleek ponytail that somehow looked even more intimidating. The stylists declared it a tie.
"Acceptable," Arslan said. "For now."
There were more. Who could sneak into the back row of a movie theater longest without getting caught (Arslan lasted until the credits; Pyrrha got nervous and confessed halfway). Who could eat the spiciest street food without flinching (Arslan's face turned red, but she did not flinch; Pyrrha teared up and conceded immediately). Who could win more prizes at the arcade (Arslan dominated rhythm games with monastic focus; Pyrrha swept the crane machines with Polarity cheats she felt guilty about).
Pyrrha's agent banned "unscheduled public appearances." Pyrrha obeyed—mostly—but found herself looking forward to Arslan's dramatic declarations. They were the only times anyone treated her like a normal person. A rival, sure, but someone who saw her, not the pedestal.
Still, as fun as it was... Every challenge felt like proof Arslan was obsessed with beating her, proving dominance. It hurt, in a quiet way. Why couldn't Arslan just... be friends?
So when Arslan came to Beacon for the Vytal Festival, it weighed heavily on her mind.
"What's wrong, Pyr?" Jaune asked, noticing her tense mood at breakfast.
"It's Arslan," Pyrrha sighed. "She was my rival at Sanctum and now..." She winced as Arslan stared intensely at her from across the cafeteria."
"So, want us to break her legs?" Nora asked cheerfully. Pyrrha shook her head.
"No! No, not that! Just... Well... She was so perplexing."
"Oh? How?" Jaune asked, leaning forward. Ren watched Arslan carefully as Pyrrha spoke.
"Honestly, it was kind of fun in some ways, but also exhausting. Arslan wouldn't stop challenging me to duels. Duels at movies, restaurants, the shopping mall..."
Jaune paused mid-bite of pancake. "Wait, wait—she challenged you to duels as part of your rivalry at places other than the ring?"
"Yes! Like who could eat more pies or who could get their hair shinier or who could sneak into the back of the theater without getting caught longer... My agent hated it!"
Jaune stared. Nora snorted syrup. Ren kept eating calmly.
"...But did you hate it?" Jaune asked gently.
Pyrrha frowned. "I mean... sometimes it was fun, but I just wished she could be friends with me."
Jaune set his fork down. "Pyrrha. You went to movies, dinners, games, and had fun together, right? You were friends."
Pyrrha's eyes went wide. "Wait... we were?!"
"Yes," Jaune said with a nod. "I mean, she's a Stonebreaker Nun. Of the order of Saint Peter-Right?"
"Yes...? Is that important?" Pyrrha asked curiously.
Jaune sighed.
"To them, a rival is basically their best friend," he explained. "The person who helps them grow, become better, stronger, as a warrior and person."
Pyrrha blushed deeply.
"Y-You mean...?"
"She could have at least said as such," Jaune groaned, slumping forward onto the table. "Why are all Huntresses freaking insane...?"
Ren, without looking up, patted Jaune's shoulder with one hand while feeding Nora another pancake with the other.
Nora beamed. "Because we're awesome!"
Pyrrha blushed furiously. "I—I suppose you're right. I feel rather foolish now."
Jaune lifted his head, grinning. "Hey, at least you figured it out eventually. Better late than never."
Later that week, during a joint training session with visiting teams, Arslan approached Pyrrha—this time without a dramatic declaration.
"Pyrrha Nikos."
Pyrrha tensed out of habit. "Yes?"
Arslan shifted, almost shy. "Would you... spar with me? As friends."
Pyrrha's smile lit up the training yard. "I'd love to."
They fought—beautifully, fiercely, evenly matched. When it ended in another draw, Arslan offered her hand.
Pyrrha took it, pulling her into a quick, awkward hug instead.
Arslan stiffened—then relaxed, hugging back.
From the sidelines, Jaune watched with Ren and Nora.
"See?" Jaune said. "Told you."
Nora cheered. "Friendship through violence! The best kind!"
Ren nodded. "Efficient."
Arslan then let Pyrrha go.
"I am sorry I did not make my intentions clear-"
"I am sorry I didn't recognize it," Pyrrha said softly.
"Well..." Arslan glanced at Jaune, and then back at Pyrrha. "I have a new challenge. Let us go out with our teams and see who can have the most fun!"
Pyrrha grinned.
"I would like that!"
Back in Mistral, at Sanctum Academy, she was the Invincible Girl—untouchable, literally and figuratively. Tournaments, cereal boxes, sponsorships, agents scheduling her every breath. People cheered from afar, whispered about her feats, but no one ever just... talked to her. No one dared sit next to her in the cafeteria without asking for an autograph first. She smiled politely, signed whatever was thrust at her, and went home to an empty dorm room that felt more like a trophy case than a living space.
Then came Arslan Altan.
Arslan was everything Pyrrha wasn't allowed to be: grounded, intense, unflinchingly serious. Training to become a warrior nun in the Tablebreaker Church, she moved like poetry in violence—bare-handed strikes that could shatter stone, aura control so precise it hummed like a hymn. She moved and spone with quiet authority, and from the moment they sparred in their first Sactum academy exhibition, Arslan locked onto Pyrrha like a heat-seeking missile.
"Pyrrha Nikos," Arslan had said after their match, bowing deeply. "You are a worthy opponent. I challenge you to prove who is the superior warrior between us."
Pyrrha blinked, flustered. "I... thank you? But it was only an exhibition—"
"Next time, we settle it properly."
And that was how it started.
The challenges escalated quickly, but never in the arena. Arslan, in her infinite stoic wisdom, decided that true superiority could only be determined through... everything.
First came the pie-eating contest at the Mistral Harvest Festival. Arslan cornered Pyrrha outside the tournament grounds, arms crossed, expression grave.
"Pyrrha Nikos! I challenge you to a pie-eating contest to determine who is the superior warrior between us!"
Pyrrha stared at the table piled high with blueberry, apple, and pumpkin pies. "Arslan, this is... a festival booth. For charity."
"Precisely. A warrior must endure hardship. Begin!"
They sat. The bell rang. Pyrrha, ever polite, took dainty bites at first. Arslan inhaled pies like a vacuum, face utterly serious, crumbs on her cheeks but eyes burning with competitive fire. By the end, Arslan's stack was gone, Pyrrha's barely dented.
"I... concede," Pyrrha said, wiping her mouth.
Arslan nodded solemnly. "Victory is mine. You fought well."
Pyrrha smiled hesitantly. "That was... fun, actually."
Arslan paused, then gave the tiniest upward twitch of her lips. "Indeed."
Next was rock-paper-scissors. In the middle of the Sanctum library, no less.
"Pyrrha Nikos! I challenge you to a best-of-twenty-one rock-paper-scissors contest to determine who is the superior warrior between us!"
The librarian shushed them furiously. Pyrrha, cheeks burning, agreed just to end the scene. They huddled over a study table, fists pumping.
Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Arslan threw rock every. Single. Time.
Pyrrha, trying to be strategic, varied her throws—and lost spectacularly.
"You... always throw rock," Pyrrha pointed out afterward.
"A warrior must be unyielding," Arslan replied, as if that explained everything.
Pyrrha laughed—a real, surprised laugh that made Arslan's ears turn pink.
Then came the shopping mall. Arslan appeared outside Pyrrha's favorite boutique, arms laden with bags already.
"Pyrrha Nikos! Today we shall go shopping and to the salon. We will determine who can achieve the greatest beauty, and thus prove who is the superior warrior between us!"
Pyrrha's agent nearly had a heart attack when paparazzi photos surfaced of the Invincible Girl trying on dresses with the stoic Haven prodigy. Arslan critiqued outfits with military precision: "This red complements your hair but lacks defensive coverage." At the salon, Arslan sat ramrod straight while stylists fussed over her platinum blonde hair, declaring, "Shinier hair denotes superior vitality!"
Pyrrha's hair ended up in loose waves, Arslan's in a sleek ponytail that somehow looked even more intimidating. The stylists declared it a tie.
"Acceptable," Arslan said. "For now."
There were more. Who could sneak into the back row of a movie theater longest without getting caught (Arslan lasted until the credits; Pyrrha got nervous and confessed halfway). Who could eat the spiciest street food without flinching (Arslan's face turned red, but she did not flinch; Pyrrha teared up and conceded immediately). Who could win more prizes at the arcade (Arslan dominated rhythm games with monastic focus; Pyrrha swept the crane machines with Polarity cheats she felt guilty about).
Pyrrha's agent banned "unscheduled public appearances." Pyrrha obeyed—mostly—but found herself looking forward to Arslan's dramatic declarations. They were the only times anyone treated her like a normal person. A rival, sure, but someone who saw her, not the pedestal.
Still, as fun as it was... Every challenge felt like proof Arslan was obsessed with beating her, proving dominance. It hurt, in a quiet way. Why couldn't Arslan just... be friends?
So when Arslan came to Beacon for the Vytal Festival, it weighed heavily on her mind.
"What's wrong, Pyr?" Jaune asked, noticing her tense mood at breakfast.
"It's Arslan," Pyrrha sighed. "She was my rival at Sanctum and now..." She winced as Arslan stared intensely at her from across the cafeteria."
"So, want us to break her legs?" Nora asked cheerfully. Pyrrha shook her head.
"No! No, not that! Just... Well... She was so perplexing."
"Oh? How?" Jaune asked, leaning forward. Ren watched Arslan carefully as Pyrrha spoke.
"Honestly, it was kind of fun in some ways, but also exhausting. Arslan wouldn't stop challenging me to duels. Duels at movies, restaurants, the shopping mall..."
Jaune paused mid-bite of pancake. "Wait, wait—she challenged you to duels as part of your rivalry at places other than the ring?"
"Yes! Like who could eat more pies or who could get their hair shinier or who could sneak into the back of the theater without getting caught longer... My agent hated it!"
Jaune stared. Nora snorted syrup. Ren kept eating calmly.
"...But did you hate it?" Jaune asked gently.
Pyrrha frowned. "I mean... sometimes it was fun, but I just wished she could be friends with me."
Jaune set his fork down. "Pyrrha. You went to movies, dinners, games, and had fun together, right? You were friends."
Pyrrha's eyes went wide. "Wait... we were?!"
"Yes," Jaune said with a nod. "I mean, she's a Stonebreaker Nun. Of the order of Saint Peter-Right?"
"Yes...? Is that important?" Pyrrha asked curiously.
Jaune sighed.
"To them, a rival is basically their best friend," he explained. "The person who helps them grow, become better, stronger, as a warrior and person."
Pyrrha blushed deeply.
"Y-You mean...?"
"She could have at least said as such," Jaune groaned, slumping forward onto the table. "Why are all Huntresses freaking insane...?"
Ren, without looking up, patted Jaune's shoulder with one hand while feeding Nora another pancake with the other.
Nora beamed. "Because we're awesome!"
Pyrrha blushed furiously. "I—I suppose you're right. I feel rather foolish now."
Jaune lifted his head, grinning. "Hey, at least you figured it out eventually. Better late than never."
Later that week, during a joint training session with visiting teams, Arslan approached Pyrrha—this time without a dramatic declaration.
"Pyrrha Nikos."
Pyrrha tensed out of habit. "Yes?"
Arslan shifted, almost shy. "Would you... spar with me? As friends."
Pyrrha's smile lit up the training yard. "I'd love to."
They fought—beautifully, fiercely, evenly matched. When it ended in another draw, Arslan offered her hand.
Pyrrha took it, pulling her into a quick, awkward hug instead.
Arslan stiffened—then relaxed, hugging back.
From the sidelines, Jaune watched with Ren and Nora.
"See?" Jaune said. "Told you."
Nora cheered. "Friendship through violence! The best kind!"
Ren nodded. "Efficient."
Arslan then let Pyrrha go.
"I am sorry I did not make my intentions clear-"
"I am sorry I didn't recognize it," Pyrrha said softly.
"Well..." Arslan glanced at Jaune, and then back at Pyrrha. "I have a new challenge. Let us go out with our teams and see who can have the most fun!"
Pyrrha grinned.
"I would like that!"
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