[ Pyrrha’s following gestures are only a little more fluid. He sets the standard and she follows. It’s a piercing question Sousei poses, and she finds herself taking a moment before answering. Despite her usual reticence, she finds she doesn’t want to give him a disingenuous response. ]

It’s a bit more complicated than that.

[ Yes, yes, yes - that’s what she would say if she were less stuck on fairness, on providing an even description of a very uneven playing ground. ]

When I was twelve, I was encouraged to enter the regional tournament in Mistral, where I’m from. Technically, I was allowed, but it was unprecedented. Combat students my age were usually told to watch and wait until they stood a chance. [ She had already begun to hit her growth spurt, half a head taller than all the other girls in her class, and when her Semblance came into its own, well. That had been that. Her professors had pushed and who wouldn’t acquiesce under that welcome bit of attention? Victory was a surprise, but not nearly as much as what had happened next. She stopped being gawky, polite, shy Pyrrha in the corner. She became something else, celebrated but not known. ] I won that year. And then, the next year, I entered again. I participated— I won every year until I graduated Sanctum.

[ It’s difficult to shrug when dancing, but there is an eased jerk to her shoulders that suggests something similar. ]

It elevated me, I suppose. People either wanted to challenge me and take me down... or they didn’t know how to speak to a “celebrity”.