Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter! Regarding the poll on Yang's mixed blood, she's actually a 3 part mixed hybrid. The origin may be revealed in this chapter!
As for who Blake ends up with on the poll concerning her pairing, it appears that Shallot is the winner of that poll! Sorry for the long wait! I was focusing on one of my other stories for awhile and waiting for that one to catch up in the storyline to this one. But I'm back now. Now without further ado... onto the story!
P.s.- I don't own DBS or Rwby and their characters. Those belong to Akira Toriyama/Toei Animation and Rooster Teeth/Monty Oum respectively. I only own the oc's and have permission to use two additional oc's from a friend.
Opening theme- The day (My hero academia op 1)
Visuals: Stills of each character walking, before the song picks up with the split screen for each group. When the song picks up, it transitions to each member fighting off the soldiers while Nova and Turuk fight Turles. The song then ends as the pair of saiyan brothers charge Turles.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Lost Heritage, Saiyan Not Faunus Part IV: Yang's Surprising Power
Part I — The Tree
Location: Tenkawa Village Outskirts | That Afternoon
The tree had not been there when they arrived.
This was the kind of observation that required a second look to confirm, because the mind preferred to find ways to have missed something rather than accept that something had appeared. But there was no version of their arrival at Tenkawa that included a tree of this scale growing over the village — not a tree that was currently at least four stories tall and still visibly, measurably growing, with the specific organic creaking of something that had decided to accelerate its timeline.
Its roots were doing something to the ground that made looking at the ground difficult.
Ruby and Nova arrived at the edge of this scene from the direction of Group A's engagement, arriving in time to find the soldiers — fewer now, significantly fewer, in the aftermath of what Turuk's group had been doing — and Turles, who was standing in front of the tree with his arms at his sides and the expression of someone who has arranged things to his satisfaction and is waiting for the arrangement to complete itself.
And Yang.
Yang was — the word for what Yang currently was required some consideration.
She was present. She was fighting. She was, by any measurable combat metric, winning — Slug had been reduced to the specific condition of something that was continuing to function out of stubbornness rather than capability, taking blow after blow with the diminishing returns of a fighter whose will was intact but whose structural integrity was making increasingly urgent objections.
But she was not Yang in the way that Yang was Yang.
The hair was wrong. The color of it — dark orange where it should have been gold, with something underneath that quality that was not simply a different shade but a different substance, like the difference between sunlight and firelight. The aura was wrong. It blazed around her with the specific character of something that had not been chosen but had erupted, not a semblance engaged but a dam broken, and the quality of it was cold in a way that Yang's power was never cold.
Ruby stared.
"Nova," she said. "What happened to her?"
He was already looking. Already reading it, in the way he read everything.
"Berserk," he said. "Tarro talked to me about it once. When the power is there but the control isn't — when the anger overrides everything and the ki responds to the emotion rather than the will." He paused. "She's not in there right now. Not in the way that matters."
"How do we get her back?"
He looked at the ongoing fight between Yang and Slug with the focused attention of someone running scenarios.
"We wait," he said, which was not what Ruby wanted to hear. "Or we find something that cuts through the anger. Something she responds to at a level deeper than the state she's in." He looked at Turuk. "He'll know."
Part II — The Flashback Turles Told
Turles was gloating.
This was a thing he did — not the theatrical variety of gloating, not the monologue-at-the-villain's-podium variety, but the specific, intimate variety of someone who has information another person wants and is enjoying the asymmetry of the situation. He had been watching Yang process what he'd told her, and the processing was going in the direction he'd wanted, and he appeared to find this specifically satisfying.
The story he had told — the one that Yang was still sitting inside of, the one that had produced the darkness she was currently wrapped in — was the story of a year, a hunt, and a morning on an island that a man named Taiyang had spent looking for someone who had decided, for reasons she had not explained and could not easily have explained, not to be found.
A year before that morning: a desertion. Two soldiers from his unit, both of them Saiyan, both of them female, both of them people Turles had considered friends for long enough that the word friends had acquired specific weight that made the betrayal heavier.
They had called themselves Cassa and Sprowt.
One of them had renamed herself when she left. Had traded the designation that meant who she was in the Glacial Force for something that was entirely her own choice, the way people renamed themselves when they were done being the person their circumstances had made them.
She had chosen Raven.
The other had chosen Summer.
Those names landed on Yang like something she had been carrying for a long time without knowing the shape of what she was carrying.
That was when the darkness came.
The darkness came from a place that had been building since she was old enough to understand that some shapes in a life were supposed to be filled.
Her mother had left.
She had spent years with that fact — had learned to hold it from all the different angles, had found the version of it she could live with, had decided on a story about it that gave her mother the benefit of a motivation even if the motivation was never explained.
And then Turles had provided the motivation.
The motivation was: Lord Glacial killed the men you loved, so you ran. You ran from a fight that was also a family, and you left the family you made because the fight found you again, and you were not willing to let the fight take the family. So you took yourself away from the family instead, because you were what the fight was looking for, and you thought that was the only way to keep them safe.
Yang understood this.
She understood it in the specific way that understanding a thing did not make the thing hurt less. In some cases, understanding made it hurt more, because it removed the comfortable possibility that the person had simply not cared, and replaced it with the much more complicated reality that the person had cared enormously and had found no better option.
Turles, in the telling, had not framed it as something that would produce understanding. He had framed it as something that would produce fury. He had said: even your Saiyan mother was too afraid to face me. He had laughed.
The fury had arrived on schedule.
And then something underneath the fury had arrived too — something that predated Yang's specific anger, something old and large and entirely outside the decision-making process, the specific quality of Saiyan blood waking up in response to a threat that was genuinely significant.
The aura changed.
Everything else followed.
Part III — Getting Yang Back
Turuk had been watching Yang's fight with Slug with the specific attention of someone who was tracking two things simultaneously: the fight's outcome, which was going in the right direction, and Yang's state of mind, which was not.
He knew what Berserk was.
He knew it the way he knew most things about Saiyan biology — not from being told about it in any organized way, but from the accumulated fragments of information that had reached him through training, through Tarro's occasional asides, through the specific experiences of being in close proximity to Nova when Nova's power was responding to significant emotional pressure.
The Berserk state was not power. It was power without the person who the power belonged to. It was what happened when the ki decided that the emotion was sufficient authorization to act without the will.
It was, from the outside, impressive.
It was, from the perspective of the person inside it, not a place anyone should be.
Slug was going down.
The namekian had reached the specific stage of a fight where the body was still technically functional and the will was still technically present, but the gap between what was being applied to him and what he could apply in return had crossed the threshold of meaningful contest.
Yang hit him again.
And again.
And Turuk watched and thought: she's almost done with him. And then she's going to look for the next target. And the next target might be Turles, which is fine, or it might be one of us, which is not.
The blast from Turles arrived — aimed not at any of the fighters, but at Blake, specifically, which Turuk read as the act of a person who had identified the most effective way to redirect someone else's attention.
Nova moved before the rest of them had finished processing it.
The blast was deflected, and it went sideways, and it went into Slug, and Slug received this input at the worst possible moment from his perspective, which created the opening Yang needed to end it.
She ended it.
The beams from both hands combined into one and passed through Slug and he was not there anymore, and the ground where he had been was briefly very hot, and then the fight was over in that direction.
Yang stood in the aftermath.
She was looking for the next thing.
Turuk moved.
He did not approach from behind — that was the wrong vector for what this required. He came around to her front, where she could see him, and he put himself in front of her line of sight before she committed to the next target.
She looked at him.
There was not very much Yang in the eyes looking at him right now.
"Yang," he said.
Nothing.
"Yang."
Still nothing. The aura was still up. The body language was the body language of something that was processing the information here is a person and had not yet resolved it into any particular response.
He reached forward, took her face in both hands, and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Yang Xiao Long," he said. "Come back."
The forehead approach had worked before because it was physical, immediate, and specifically surprising enough to cut through whatever was occupying the foreground. He was counting on the same mechanism now, and also on something else — the specific quality of their contact, the way this person had repeatedly been the thing that found her in bad situations and was still there when the situations ended.
He felt the aura flicker.
"Yang."
The eyes changed.
Not all at once — it was more like light returning to a space that had been dark for long enough that you'd stopped expecting it. First a flicker. Then a quality of recognition. Then the specific expression of someone who is surfacing and does not entirely know how far down they were.
"—Turuk?"
The aura subsided.
She dropped.
He caught her.
She was heavier than she looked — not because she was large, but because she was the weight of someone who had just spent an extended period operating at a level that the body was not designed for as a sustained state, and the body's accounting of this had arrived all at once.
He held her up and looked at her face and said: "You're back."
"I'm—" She was doing a rapid inventory. "Did I—"
"Slug is gone," he said. "You're not hurt."
"I feel like I ran a country," she said.
"You were—"
"I was that thing, wasn't I." It wasn't really a question.
"Yes."
She looked at her hands. At the aura that was no longer there. At the specific quality of her ordinary hands, which were not large and were not scarred and were just Yang's hands.
"Turles told me about my mother," she said.
"I know," he said.
"She's—"
"We can talk about it properly," he said. "Later. When you've had a moment."
She looked at him with the expression she wore when she was deciding something.
Then she grabbed his face and kissed him.
Not on the cheek.
Not in the glancing, teasing way she had been deploying for months with the specific quality of someone who was testing a boundary and enjoying the test.
On the mouth, directly, for a second that was long enough to be unambiguous.
She pulled back.
He was very still.
"That," she said, "is for bringing me back. Every time."
She let him go.
He stood there with the expression of someone whose internal architecture had just been significantly rearranged and who was going to need a moment to find where all the pieces had gone.
"Yang," he said.
"Later," she said. "There's still a fight."
She stepped back toward the group.
He stood where he was for one more second.
Then he followed.
Part IV — The Tree's Purpose
Blake arrived with Group C at the moment that Yang's dark aura subsided, and the first thing she did was look at her teammate — at the state of her, at the exhaustion and the returning-to-herself quality of Yang's posture — and then at Turuk, who was managing his expression with the focused effort of someone who has been very recently surprised.
She put together the picture in approximately two seconds.
Filed the romantic development for later because there were immediate priorities.
The second thing she noticed was the tree.
The third thing she noticed — the thing that made her stomach cold — was what the tree's roots were doing.
"Scarlett," she said.
"I see it," Scarlett said. Her voice was flat in the way of someone who is managing a reaction.
"What is that?" Ren asked.
"The tree feeds on organic material," Scarlett said. "Life energy, specifically. The more life it processes, the more fruit it produces. The fruit—" She stopped.
"Turles," Blake said, completing the thought.
"The fruit increases the power of whoever eats it." Scarlett looked at Turles, who was watching the ongoing engagement between Nova and himself — they had been circling, assessing, in the specific way of fighters who understand that the real fight had not yet started — with the patient expression of someone who had already planned the middle game. "He's not here for us primarily. He's here for the fruit. The massacre—"
"—was to grow the tree," Blake said.
The coldness in her stomach became something else.
She looked at the village. At what remained of Tenkawa. At the thing that had been done to these people — not in the chaos of a battle, not in the grimm-driven way of a border overwhelmed, but as a deliberate, specific act, the way you prepare ground before you plant something.
Her hands closed around her weapon.
Nora's expression had shifted from its usual quality to something considerably more focused and considerably less inclined toward patience.
"Let's go," Nora said, which was not a request.

*Insert: Black clover episode167 ost: Asta and Yami vs Dante*
Part V — Nova and Turles
They had been circling for long enough that the circle itself had become a communication.
What the circle was saying, from Turles's side, was: I want to know what you are before I commit to what I'm going to do. What it was saying from Nova's side was: I've already decided what I'm going to do and I'm deciding when.
They moved at the same moment.
The initial impact was the specific impact of two significant forces making contact at high speed — not explosive in the theatrical way but pressured, the way the air felt before a weather event, the way the ground felt when something heavy was moving through it rather than resting on it. The crater formed immediately.
They traded.
Ruby had never quite seen Nova fight like this — not because the technique was different, but because the output was. He was not restraining. He was not calibrating to an opponent who needed to be engaged at reduced intensity for their own protection. He was expressing the fight as it actually was, and the fight as it actually was had a quality to it that she had sensed the edges of in training but had never seen fully manifested.
This, she thought, is what he's been holding back.
The environment was honest about the exchange. The ground recorded every impact in the ledger of new craters. The air registered every significant velocity in the ledger of displaced atmosphere. Trees at the perimeter fell when the shockwaves reached them. The Glacial Force soldiers who were still in the vicinity had made a collective decision to be in a different vicinity.
Turles was good.
He was not as good as the number suggested, because numbers were, as had been established, instruments of deception in this context. His actual capability was considerably above what his displayed power level had suggested, and he had been in enough fights to have developed a specific kind of combat intelligence — the kind that looked for the angle that wasn't being guarded, the moment that the other person was between one thing and the next.
He found them occasionally.
Nova registered them, absorbed them, and continued.
"You're holding back," Turles said, during a brief separation.
"Some," Nova said.
"Why?"
Nova looked at him. "Because I don't know yet how much I have. And I'd rather not find out in a way that hurts people I care about."
Turles looked at him with the specific expression of someone who has not expected that answer and is revising his assessment of the person who gave it.
"Interesting," he said.
He rocketed forward again.
The trench that resulted from Nova's finishing sequence of the first exchange ran approximately the length of three city blocks and ended at a cliff face, which contributed itself to the reckoning.
Turles emerged from the rubble with the specific quality of someone who has received new information and is organizing his response to it.
He was smiling.
This was the wrong response, in Ruby's assessment.
Nova felt it too — the specific quality of a smile that was not the smile of someone who had lost and was accepting the outcome, but the smile of someone who had just arrived at the next step in a plan they had been running alongside the fight.
"Nova," Ruby said, through the link.
"I see it," he said.
Too late.
The blast came from Turles and it went to Ruby.
It was not a subtle redirect — it was a deliberate, visible choice, the specific action of someone who has identified the variable that will produce the most useful response and is introducing it to the equation. The blast was significant. Too significant for Ruby to absorb without cost, and Turles knew this, and had calibrated accordingly.
Nova was already moving.
He covered the distance in the time that it took the blast to complete most of its travel, arrived in front of Ruby and the group, and deflected it sideways with the specific violence of someone who has moved faster than they normally allow themselves to move and is currently at the threshold of revealing how fast that actually is.
The blast went sideways.
It went into Slug.
Slug, who had already been losing badly, received this without the ability to do very much about it, and Yang's subsequent engagement brought the matter to its conclusion.
Nova turned to Ruby.
"Are you—"
"Fine," she said. "Everyone's fine."
He exhaled.
He looked at Turles, who had used the redirect to get to the tree, and was now holding the fruit that the tree had produced from the specific horribleness of what it had fed on, and was crushing it in his hand.
The power that followed was the power of something that had been depleted and was being refilled — not by recovery, not by rest, but by a shortcut that bypassed the normal relationship between expenditure and replenishment. Turles straightened. The wounds from the fight closed. The fatigue from the exchange with Nova resolved itself into nothing, and what remained was something that was several orders of magnitude beyond what it had been.
Nova looked at him.
I walked into that, he thought. He put Ruby in danger specifically so I would move. And I moved. And now he's—
He did not finish the thought with language. The thought resolved itself into something below language — the specific anger of a person who has made a mistake that endangered someone they love, directed not outward but inward, at the mistake, at himself for making it.
"Round two," Turles said.
Nova set his jaw.
The blue aura came up around him, and for a moment it was possible to see the gap — the gap between the Nova who had been fighting Turles before and the nova who was going to fight him now, and the gap was smaller than Turles expected and larger than Nova had shown.
But something else was happening.
Ruby felt it before she could name it — a quality to Nova's ki that was not the blue she recognized from their training, something underneath it, something that was not quite the white of his standard expression and not quite anything she had a name for yet. Something older. Something that had been in there the whole time and had been living below the surface of everything she had learned to read about him.
She clasped her hands together.
She prayed for him.
The sky had started to rain, as though the atmosphere had decided that if things were going to be this serious it was going to dress for the occasion.
Part VI — What Was Underneath
The second exchange was different from the first.
Not because Nova was losing — he wasn't, precisely, though the margin was no longer what it had been, and the fruit had done what Turles had intended it to do. The difference was in the quality of the resistance. Turles was operating now at a level that required Nova to reach for things he had not reached for in the first exchange, and the reaching was finding things, and the things it was finding were not things Nova had complete familiarity with.
There was something below the blue.
He had known it was there the way you know things that you've been told about once and haven't had reason to look at directly — the way Tarro had said, approximately: there is something in you that I don't have a complete description for, and you should know that it exists so that when it becomes relevant you have a reference point. He had filed that information and not examined it because the situations he had encountered had not required him to reach that deep.
Turles was requiring him to reach that deep.
What he found when he reached was not something that felt like an upgrade. It was something that felt like a door, and the door was heavy, and behind the door was something that was specifically, structurally not designed to be used without more preparation than he currently had.
He felt it.
He kept the door where it was.
He kept fighting.
"Something's wrong," Ruby said, to no one in particular.
"He's not losing," Turuk said, from beside her.
"That's not what I mean." She was looking at Nova — at the specific quality of how he was moving, which was the quality of someone who is navigating something internal and external simultaneously. "Something is happening to him."
Turuk looked.
He felt it too — the specific signature of something in his brother's ki that was not the standard output, a depth to it that was responding to the situation in a way that was not chosen.
"He's touching the edge of something," Turuk said. "Something he doesn't have the context for yet."
"Can he control it?"
Turuk was quiet for a moment.
"Probably," he said. "Nova's—he's been managing that thing his whole life without knowing it was there. He'll manage it now."
Ruby kept her hands clasped together.
The rain came down harder.
The fight between Nova and Turles continued in the specific quality of two people who had each discovered, in the process of the engagement, that the other was more than they had entered the conversation prepared for, and who were now recalibrating in real time.
In the sky above them, the lightning moved in ways that corresponded closely to the exchange below.
Turles, who had been in many fights and had learned to read many situations, was becoming aware that he was in a situation he had not fully anticipated, and that the specific thing he had not anticipated was not the power level — he had known the power level was higher than his instruments had suggested — but the quality of what was underneath the power level, which was something he did not have a clean category for, and that he was beginning to strongly suspect he did not want to remain in proximity to when it fully expressed itself.
The girl, he thought. And the old stories about silver eyes.
What if—
He did not finish the thought, because the fight was requiring all of his attention, and the fight was the kind that did not permit divided attention without consequences.
He was, for the first time in a very long time, uncertain about how this ended.
Part VII — Group C Arrives in Force
Nora did not approach a situation like this with anything resembling restraint.
She approached it with Magnhild and the specific certainty of someone for whom the gap between we should do something and I am doing the thing had never been particularly large.
The soldiers who had been hanging around the tree's perimeter received Nora's arrival as a comprehensive educational experience.
Ren followed, quieter but no less thorough — his blades finding the gaps between the engagements his partner created, addressing things with the precision of someone who has been working alongside Nora long enough that the specific chaos she generated had become predictable in the way that weather became predictable once you understood the patterns.
Aiko moved through the outer perimeter with her naginata, the specific technique she had been developing that was half weapon-work and half ki application, which was a combination that came naturally to someone who had been around Saiyan training for long enough that it had become part of her baseline.
Scarlett went directly toward the tree.
She had been looking at it since they arrived, and she had arrived at a conclusion about what needed to happen to it, and the conclusion was: this needs to stop existing. The specific method of stopping it from existing was something she was working through, but the conclusion itself was clear.
Blake went to Yang.
Turuk had been right — approaching Yang during the Berserk state was not viable. But Yang was out of the Berserk state now, was sitting on the ground with the expression of someone who had just run a very long distance and had found a wall at the end of it, and Blake sat down beside her and said nothing for a moment because sometimes nothing was the right thing.
Yang looked at her.
"Did Turuk tell you?" she asked.
"He told me you'd been Berserk and that he got you out," Blake said. "That's all."
"He didn't tell you—"
"That's something for you to tell me when you're ready," Blake said. "Not for him to relay."
Yang was quiet.
"My mother," she said.
"Yeah," Blake said.
"She didn't just leave because she felt like it."
"No."
Yang looked at her hands again. The tail was visible now — had been visible since the Berserk state, had not gone back to being invisible since she came out of it, curled loosely at her lower back as though it had decided that this was where it lived and was done with the concealment.
"I have a tail," she said.
"I see that," Blake said.
"I didn't have one this morning."
"Bodies can be surprising," Blake said, which was the most useful thing she could think of.
Yang almost laughed. It came out as a sound that was almost-laugh adjacent.
"Blake," she said.
"Yes."
"I'm—" She stopped. Started again. "I don't know what I am right now."
"You're Yang," Blake said. "Whatever else is also true, that part is still accurate."
Yang looked at her.
Then she leaned her head on Blake's shoulder.
Blake did not say anything else.
Sometimes nothing was exactly the right thing.
*Insert Dragon ball kai ost: Formiddable Foe, the Saiyan*

Part VIII — The Rain
The rain came down with the specific thoroughness of weather that had decided to commit.
Ruby stood at the edge of the fight's radius and watched Nova and Turles and felt the specific quality of helplessness that came from being close enough to see everything and too far to do anything useful.
She had her hands clasped together.
She was praying.
She had not done this consciously in a long time — not since she was small enough that the world had still seemed like the kind of place where the right words directed at the right place could influence outcomes. She had grown up in the interval between that version of herself and this one, and growing up had done things to the certainty of that belief.
But she was praying now.
Not because she was certain it would help.
Because Nova was fighting something that was stronger than before and she could feel, in the specific way she had learned to feel his ki over months of proximity, that he was navigating something difficult and she could not navigate it with him and the only thing she had to offer from this distance was the specific weight of someone caring intensely.
She gave him all of it.
The lightning cracked.
The rain came down.
The fight continued.
Come back, she thought. You promised.
★ END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ★
Next: Chapter Twenty-Three — "Lost Heritage, Saiyan Not Faunus Part IV(Finale): Primal Rage"
Ending theme: Black clover ending 12: A walk by SOLIDEMO
Visuals: Nova by himself walking for a bit before coming face to face with a future form of himself. He then sees his friends ahead of him before stopping. It transitions to shots of each of the main cast's weapons. It even shows a pan of Tarro briefly. Nova continues walking during the build up of the song as it shows each member from the main cast of this story. It briefly shows a closeup of a future form Nova will transform into as he stops to face it. The song continues to build as it then shows a pan up of Ruby's face looking into the distance. It shows a closeup of everyone's dust weapons for a second before the chorus starts. The chorus begins showing the dust weapons as the images range from the chracter's backs to them turning around to welcome Nova into their circle. There's then a flashback of the previous battles everyone's been through so far in the story before transitioning back to Nova rejoining his friends as they walk off into the distance.
Hey guys, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Sorry it took my so long to update this story, life has gotten kinda busy for me recently so I haven't had as much time to write. I'll update whenever I have time to. But hopefully this chapter answered at least one question you all had about Yang's origin. I plan on expounding upon her origin a little bit further in upcoming chapters. I even threw in a little development for Tarro and Professor Peach. She was mentioned in Rwby, but since her character was never really delved into I decided to give her at least a little personality. We'll see where that goes. I'm not going to drag out this mini arc too much further as next chapter is the finale of the Tenkawa Crisis Arc, after that, The rest of volume 3's story proper can begin. Before we go, I'd like you guys to vote on the poll(s) below:
Who should Aiko's love interest/pairing be?
A. Giblet
B. Oscar
C. Mercury
D. Sun Wukong
E. Neptune Vasilias
F. Jaune Arc
Who should the next big threat for our saiayn characters be?
1. Glacial (Freiza character of this story)
2. Kanba/Cumber (Dragon Ball Heroes)
3. Mira (Xenoverse)
4. Cell (Dbz)
5. other (write in suggestion)
That's all for now guys! I'll see you guys in whichever story updates next!