Each tick of the clock echoed loudly, while the stupid thing's plastic, smiling face continued to mock and gloat.
She hated it.
None of the others spoke, either. Yang wasn't sure if she was relieved about that or not. Team RWBY had received the garbled message from her an hour ago, and rushed over as fast as they could. There hadn't been so much as a word shared between them, and that hardly improved when Miss Goodwitch arrived, her face set from granite. They'd been waiting ever since.
One of the speakers crackled to life. "Miss Goodwitch of Beacon. Miss Goodwitch of Beacon."
The seat to Yang's left creaked as the woman rose. She felt a hand fall on her shoulder, and she flinched. "Come along, Miss Xiao-Long. The rest of you stay here."
Ruby looked up. "Can't we-"
"No."
"O-Okay…" Ruby shot Yang a worried look.
Yang wasn't sure if she would be fine, so didn't bother to say so. She stood as best she could, suddenly aware of how weak her legs felt, and followed the older woman through the glass and plastic doors. A nurse met them there, and quickly led them into a pristine, white room with a single desk. Jaune was nowhere to be seen.
"Take a seat," the nurse said, doing as much on the other side. "Mr Arc has given permission for us to fill you in on what happened, and as the ones covering his medical costs; you are entitled to a basic explanation."
"Is he well?" Glynda asked.
"There were no complications. Mr Arc suffered from a dislocated shoulder, but it was clean and quickly set. I would not expect any lingering issues so long as he follows the Doctor's instructions. I've been advised to tell you that he has chosen not to press charges."
Yang's body didn't relax, even if she let out a quick breath. Beside her, Glynda nodded, somehow calmer in the situation. Maybe she'd been here before. Maybe this was nothing new. To Yang, it was. Her eyes clenched shut.
"You're free to see him," the nurse said.
"Before we do, may I borrow your office for a moment?"
The nurse looked down to Yang and back up to Glynda. She didn't answer, but slowly pushed her chair back and moved to the door. It closed behind her with a soft click. Only the two of them remained, and Yang's shoulders bunched up even further.
"Look at me, Miss Xiao-Long."
She tried. She really did. In the end, it was the hand reaching below her chin which forced her to meet her teacher's eyes. Guilty, frustrated tears stung at them.
Miss Goodwitch sighed.
"I-I-I'm prepared to f-face anything," Yang stammered. She hated how close she sounded to crying. She clenched her eyes shut to try and ward off any outburst, and swallowed the breath that caught in her throat. When she spoke again, she sounded a little calmer. Sounded, not felt. "I know what I did, and… and I'm prepared for the consequences."
"Prepared, indeed," Glynda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You will have several detentions with me."
Yang waited for the rest.
"And…?" she prompted, when nothing came.
"And that will be it."
"What!?" Yang made to stand, but wasn't quite able to. Her knees hit the desk, rattling it, and she fell back into her seat. Her eyes were wide, however. Wide and angry. "How can that be it? I dislocated a civilian's arm! I brokean innocent person. How am I not being expelled, or suspended, or – or something!?"
"Do you wish to be expelled?"
"No. Yes. Maybe…" Yang gripped her head. "I don't know. I just… I don't know."
"You want to stop feeling guilty for what happened, and feel that if you are punished it might go some way towards achieving that. Am I correct?"
Yang nodded after a moment's hesitation.
"Would that guilt could be assuaged so easily, none of us would dwell on it. Even so, I do not believe you need to hold yourself quite as accountable as you do. I certainly don't. I doubt he does, either."
How could she say that? How could a teacher make it sound like it was okay for her to hurt something like that? She was supposed to be training to become a Huntress, someone who protected people who couldn't protect themselves.
But who was going to protect people like Jaune from her?
"Miss Xiao-Long…" Glynda paused. "Yang," she continued in a softer voice. "The differences between a Huntress-in-training and a regular civilian are many. From how we think, how we act, even to the culture we have and what we think. Huntresses and Huntsmen react to stimuli in different ways. We even react to things like grief and excitement differently. It is to be expected that there will be clashes at times… and yes; sometimes this can take a physical nature as well. I have had the misfortune to be in this position before, and I will tell you now that what you did is far less than what I've seen before."
"What kind of things?"
"You are a teenager. You all are. I have seen drink and drugs temporarily addle the minds of the most gentle and caring of students, turning them into dangerous idiots. I've seen a moment of weakness driving someone to lash out at another who didn't deserve it. I have even seen jealousy over a scorned lover create conflict that has led to broken bones and shattered friendships. These happen naturally between Huntsmen, but also between civilians. People fight and people are hurt. It only becomes a serious problem when it mixes between the two. A Huntsman or Huntress can cause grievous injury to someone who isn't trained." Glynda placed a hand on Yang's shoulder. "Yours was an accident, and from what I understand caused more from concern than malicious intent."
"I still hurt someone who couldn't fight back," she whispered. "I broke my sister's best friend. Literally."
"And you'll likely continue to feel guilty about that for some time, or at least until the memory fades. I suppose my telling you not to blame yourself will have little effect. Goodness knows no one can be as critical as we can in our own minds."
"You need to practise your control," Glynda continued. "Like many of our students, you've spent your life surrounded by people who not only have aura, but who are hardy from training. You have a Huntsman father and a Huntress mother, while your uncle is a Huntsman that teaches at Signal. Your friends were probably students from there, and later from Beacon. Tell me; how many civilian friends have you had in the past?"
None. Their cabin was out in the woods of Patch. Those forests could become infested with Grimm at any given moment.
"As I thought. Dogs learn to moderate the force of their bites through play with other dogs, and children do the same when interacting between themselves. Given that you've grown up almost exclusively with Huntsmen or those training towards that, it's understandable that you might underestimate your strength, especially given your particular skillset."
"My skillset…?"