Authors Note: This story is technically a sequel to a previous story of mine, Hung Jury. You don't need to read it to understand this one, but if you want to, feel free to.

Jaune woke up to a sword being rammed into his abdomen.

That kind of wake up call sounds very painful, and it was. To most people such a wake up call would be lethal, but Jaune Arc was not most people.

His eyes flashed open, but he was barely able to see. He could make out the only light in the room, a faint, white glow over his stomach, the effects of his aura protecting him, instinctively, from damage. It wouldn't hold out forever, though.

Forcing himself to move, Jaune spun around, reaching under his bed for Crocea Mors. His hand had barely wrapped its way around the hilt when a harsh blow struck the back of his right shoulder, breaking his grip and spinning him off the bed and on to the floor.

'I dropped my sword.' he thought dully, the world still wrapped in the groggy murk of sleep, adrenaline rushing through his body, trying to force it from its inadequate slumber. Even with his tunnel vision he could barely make out the dark silhouette of his attacker in the dim light. 'That was stupid.'

The shadow was smaller than he was, shorter, and presumably frailer, but its blade was still firmly in its grasp, poised to strike at any moment as he rapidly staggered upright, putting all the distance he could between them. There wasn't much.

The room he had slept in was small, and cramped, large enough so that people could stand more than a few feet away from one another, but barely so, and there were plenty of things someone in his state could trip over. Luckily, the agony of his awakening had slowed time to a crawl, and he was easily able to perceive and avoid such threats, while realizing his own error.

The shadow had a massive advantage at any range. Trying to run was only delaying the inevitable, its reach couldn't be escaped so easily. His only hope would've been to attack immediately, when it was close. It was powerful, but in raw, physical strength he could have overcome it, grappled the sword out of its grasp and pinned it. There were some advantages to being a male in the prime of his life, even in the world of Remnant. But now getting close enough to use the only edge he had would be nigh impossible, without taking several slashes in the process. Even if he could get closer, his assailant was too nimble, too cunning. It would never let him get close to it.

'But if I could make it come to me...' He thought. the voice in his head, the strategist that had saved his life on multiple occasions, an instinct he could still hardly believe was his own,spoke. It was a stroke of genius. Anyone could capitalize on an opportunity if it was in front of them, but few could create them from thin air. If he could plant a close range assault in his opponent's mind, make it think it was its idea, and have the shadow lunge at him of its own accord, he could salvage this.

He'd also have to get out of this room. The landscape favored his opponent too much. He was too groggy and clumsy to properly maneuver in such a confined space, while his adversary had no such weakness, the graceful angel of death that it was. The shadow was between him and the door, but there was a window directly behind him, large enough for his body to slam through. A plan, a devious, desperate plan, rushed into his mind, and he had to suppress a gulp, hoping beyond hope that it would work.

He lowered his guard, focusing on his torso while leaving his head and neck exposed. It was an amateur mistake, but not one that would be suspect from a victim that was delirious and exhausted, half awake and under trained. The shadow lunged, the length of its sword slashing straight for his throat. He lunged forward, grasping its arm before the blade could connect, and used its momentum against it, spinning his enemy into the window and out of the room.

The pair fell into the ground, shattered glass and dirt surrounding them. His quarters had been two stories up, and while not a lethal fall, it certainly wasn't pleasant. He felt himself wincing from the pain, even though his opponent, who lay damaged, but certainly not defeated beneath him, had taken the brunt of the impact.

As they were falling, Jaune had squeezed the shadow's wrist with all his might, forcing it to drop its weapon, which was flung more than a meter away. Not wasting any time, he grabbed both of his attacker's arms and pinned its legs and torso with his weight.

" Well done." The shadow said reluctantly. " Against a normal foe, that little gambit of yours would have ended it." The soft glow of a glyph burned on his chest quicker than he could release her and he was flung back, unable to counter her.

" I, however," she said, " am not so easy to put down." The shadow stood before the slowly rising sun, the first morning light illuminating her features. Cold, ice blue eyes were rounded by a regal face, crowned with snow white locks of hair that looked poised and elegant even when it was flecked with shards of dirt and glass.

" Tell me about it." Jaune said, wincing as he made his way back to his feet, gripping her saber, knowing full well that the ordeal may or may not be over yet.

Had Winter actually been out to kill him, he had no delusions of the outcome. He could only hope, with all his training, that she would work up a sweat. Even without trying to finish him, she came awfully close on a regular basis.

'Well, I'm awake now.' He thought, groaning internally as he saw a soft yellow orb peeking out from behind the foothills. It was just like Winter to wake him up in a 'mock' assassination attempt at the ass crack of dawn. His mentor, of course, looked as cold and unaffected as always, partly because that's just how Winter was, and partly because she, no doubt, had gotten plenty of sleep and preparation.

It wasn't the brutal training that got to Jaune. The suicide missions, the non stop drills, the relentless pushing of his physical, mental, and aura abilities at all times, or the scarcity of any kind of praise. That all came with the territory, and he knew what he had signed up for. What he couldn't stand, could never stand, was the torturous irregularity of it all.

Jaune could have adjusted if he had been told to wake up at 5 am, every day, for the rest of his life. He'd hate it, at first, but eventually it would become familiar, comfortable, second nature. Winter couldn't have that.

Instead, she woke him whenever she saw fit, however she saw it fit. She ambushed him, cancelled his meals, ran him ragged, and then would leave him alone for days. She had let him sleep past noon yesterday, so he should of realized something like this was coming.

Even in his rest he wasn't safe, eternally aware that at any point, any solace he had could be snatched from his finger tips. It almost made him long for suicide missions. At least when they were on those, Winter was too busy trying to watch his back to actively make his life hell.

'You must be ready at all times.' Winter had said, after a particularly brutal day in their first month together. ' Salem's cretins will not only attack when you're comfortable. Any time, any place, in any way, you have to be prepared, or you will die.' He had to stay on his toes every moment of every day, because if Salem didn't kill him, Winter would.

She walked out to him, extending her hand expectantly.

"Do I look like I have a death wish?" He asked impertinently, grasping her saber ever tighter. She sighed, a glimmer of approval in her ice blue gaze.

"The ambush is over, Arc." She said, in a voice that allowed for no arguments. " I order you to return my weapon."

Jaune nodded. Winter was many things, but she certainly wasn't a liar. He could appreciate that much.

She grasped her blade appreciatively as it returned to her hands. Then she turned back to Jaune. " You have five minutes to get whatever weapons and armor you can, before I attack you again. We're going to have a proper spar, now."

Jaune grimaced, but didn't argue. He knew that she had already started to count down, and he had no time to waste. As he raced back into the inn, he ignored the groggy glares of several unamused patrons who had been woken by the ruckus, and the shouts of the innkeeper, demanding to know what had happened to his window. That was Winter's problem to deal with, not his. 'Being the junior operative has to have some perks.'

He slipped into his armor, thanking Professor Port for his acquired selective hearing as the innkeeper, a shrill old woman, followed him into his room. He ignored her by counting the seconds he had used, knowing his doom was imminent.

'72... 73...' he thought as he slipped his chest plate on, donning as much of his armor as was feasible, knowing he'd need everything he could get. The innkeeper was getting uncomfortably close, so he decided now was a good a time as ever to pick up Crocea Mors. It wasn't a threat, not exactly, but it got the job done, and she backed away, hesitantly '86...87...'

It certainly wasn't the innkeepers fault that his supervisor was mildly psychotic, but he couldn't help projecting some of his anger at her, especially when she glared at him like he was Grimm incarnate. What sucked especially about this whole arrangement was that after this little stunt, there was no way that he was getting the inn's warm and well advertised breakfast, and he doubted Winter would make alternate arrangements. Maybe she would, considering they had a mission later today, and whatever else she was capable of, sending him into the field unprepared was beyond her. But it wouldn't match the simple, home cooked meal that he had been treated to yesterday. 'Damn it all.'

With all his armor and his trusty sword in place, he turned to his secondary equipment. His assault rifle, Lancer, sat on his desk, a modified form of the standard Atlesian model. Arrow, his pistol, was by its side. It was a pale imitation of Storm Flower, but it was an excellent weapon of last resort. A belt of tools and grenades was locked into place around his waist as he realized he had less than thirty seconds left.

He pushed past the bemused innkeeper and rushed down the stairs, desperate to make it out of the building before the time limit. On some level, Jaune knew he had to protect the other guests. It wouldn't do to have them caught in the crossfire. 'It's already going to be a tragedy, no need to make it a massacre.'

After 299 seconds he had his head out the door and before he ran out of time he raised his shield, knowing what was coming. As if on cue, Winter's saber slammed into his shield, right on schedule, deflected for only a moment.

Jaune focused on protecting his center throughout the incoming onslaught. He could block and parry most of the blows, but a few made it past his guard, nicking his armor and chipping away at his aura. Winter's strikes were so rapid that he could only manage the occasional counter strike, which never seemed to do much to her.

" What the hell do you think you're doing!" A voice screeched, cutting the melee off.

Winter turned, unamused, and Jaune recognized the high pitched yell of the innkeeper.

"First you destroy my property, then you wake my guests, and now you're waking up half the neighborhood with this damned racket!" She paused, only because she had to catch her breath between shouting. " Who the hell do you think you are?"

For her part, Winter seemed largely unperturbed. " Winter Schnee. " She answered evenly, as the elder woman cowed in recognition. " Specialist and senior member of the Atlesian Special Operatives Unit." The innkeeper stared, slack jawed. Everyone in Mistral had heard of Winter Schnee, and were well aware of her own skill and the horrible circumstances she was sent into. It wasn't good news to see her anywhere near you, and the fear of aggravating the stoic woman had silenced the crone.

" Any damages we have done to your property will be repaid in full. Any guests who want recompense can speak to me when I'm done." Winter withdrew a thin piece of plastic and tossed it to the speechless woman. " Also, when we get back, could you please prepare two large breakfasts? Huntsmen need to keep their strength up, after all."

The innkeeper nodded, before turning back to her building and rushing inside, muttering to herself. Winter scoffed, before looking at their surroundings more closely. " It appears we have an audience."

Indeed it did. Half the neighborhood and a good deal of the guests had come out to see the commotion that had woken them. Interlaced with the irritated adults were bright eyed children, some as young as three or four, who were eager to see a new spectacle. Kuchinashi was a rough town, but a sword fight in the streets was still a rare occurrence.

Jaune had used the brief interlude in their bout to collect himself. Winter had been dominating him the entire fight. Not that that was unusual, but it wasn't always quite this one sided. He had fallen back into his old habits with exhaustion, dropping into a defensive position rather than attacking, trying to find rare openings in her skilled guard instead of creating them. He had to fix that.

Winter was still momentarily distracted by the crowd, and Jaune capitalized on this opportunity, swinging Crocea Mors at her while she was off balance.

"Let's give them a good show."

The blade connected, knocking the wind out of Winter as she staggered back, reeling from the blow to her head. Jaune swung again, knowing he couldn't give her even a moment to recover. Several hits landed before Winter regained enough of her footing to start swinging back.

Their swordplay quickly morphed into a whirlwind of steel, Jaune sacrificing strength for speed, matching his strikes so they were nearly as quick as Winter's. He had to keep her off balance at all costs, and if he let up even for the briefest of moments she would regain her footing.

The crowd grew thicker, and it was difficult not to be distracted by all the 'ooh's' and 'aahs' as the Hunters danced, blades clanging in a steady rhythm. Winter leapt back, using the distance to re-orient herself before going on the offensive. She pelted his shield, his armor, and his aura with a flurry of stabs and strikes, nearly overwhelming him. But, being the weakest student at Beacon had given him the dubious gift of weathering far worse beatings than this. He could take a hell of a lot of punishment.

His various defenses took most of the damage anyway, although a handful of chinks in his armor were going to be very sore after this. Jaune was used to that anyway. He took a long, broad swing, forcing Winter back again as she avoided the deadly arc of Crocea Mors.

The two fighters stood about two yards apart, considering their options. Jaune couldn't use any of his ranged weapons, not without endangering the ever growing, raucous crowd. But Winter couldn't use her Glyphs either. Not most of them, anyway.

A glowing, black snowflake appeared on the ground below her and shot her into the air above him. Before he could react she had landed behind him and was already going for his exposed back.

Jaune side stepped out of the way, barely missing the tip of her saber as Winter went forward. He saw her begin to turn around, another glyph forming at the her feet as she held her blade for a downward strike. Summoning all his might, he swung his own parry, steel meeting steel with a terrible screech.

The force of the impact cracked the concrete beneath his feet, but Jaune stood steady, taking the blow in stride. The two opponents blades were pressed against one another in a ruthless deadlock, neither being able to overpower the other. A long pause accompanied the struggle, starkly contrasting with the frenzied battle minutes before.

Thunderous applause broke both their trains of thought, and Winter gave him the small, customary nod that indicated that the spar was over. He still waited another instant before he sheathed Crocea Mors. Better safe than sorry.

" You attacked out of turn." Winter said, not a reproach so much as a statement.

Jaune grinned sardonically. " What? Aren't you always supposed to be ready?"

There was a small uptick in Winter's lips, not quite a smirk but something akin to it, and the faintest hint of pride. It faded in an instant and the pair of them immediately went back to business.

" Meet me at the lake on the North side of town. Double time ." Of course. More training. This wasn't quite a day off, but their morning was largely free and the only times Winter gave her pupil a rest were when it was absolutely necessary for health or to lull him into a false sense of security. He actually preferred the more straightforward days. He knew what he was in for.

Jaune shook his head as she sped off into the distance, easily outpacing him. Despite the brutal training she had put him through, he was quite a bit slower than her. She was faster, nimbler, more skilled and more experienced than him, and was not afraid of flaunting that fact. His aura capacity outclassed hers by a wide margin, and in terms of raw physical strength he had an edge, but she rarely gave him the chance to use it. There was a reason she was the one in charge.

The citizens of Kuchinashi thought differently, whooping and cheering at them as they left. He could see the flicker of lien between hands, a few triumphant laughs mixing with disappointed groans. The cynicism of the adults was matched only by the wide eyed naïveté of their children, who had yet to be hardened by the city's cruel underbelly, and were excitedly pointing and whispering at him as he left, amazed to see real Huntsmen in action.

"Is that the White Knight?" One called out excitedly, a pale, gaunt boy, too thin for his age, asked. Jaune groaned internally. Apparently he had developed a bit of a reputation.

" It has to be!" Another cried, gesturing to his sword.

" I heard he took on an Ursa Major with one arm!"

" I heard he brought down the Crazy 88!"

"You mean the gang that ran the Bachari district?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

" He's the one who shot Mercury Black!"

Jaune rolled his eyes at the various rumors and half truths. He had taken on an Ursa Major with his left arm, only because Winter had broken his right. She had wanted to see precisely how much aura he really had, and she was very, very thorough in her 'investigation'. The camp they had been staying in was ambushed by a pack of Grimm, and he did what he had to do. ' Not one of my better days.' The guilty frown Winter had after that ordeal was the closest thing to an apology he had ever gotten from her.

The Crazy 88? Well... there weren't actually 88 of them. He assumed there had been, at one point, but at least half of them had been picked off in the chaos of the war. And taking on a few dozen street punks wasn't that extraordinary.

Kuchinashi was filled with hundreds of gang members, practically indistinguishable from one another, all desperately vying for a share of the infamous black market. The red light district that took up half the town oozed of blood and sex. Everything under the sun was for sale, and a few other things besides.

' Guns, drugs, dust, assassins, sex, people...' he shuddered. ' and information.' Almost all the missions he and Winter had been sent on came back to Kuchinashi, one way or another. In some ways it was peaceful. The Grimm were out in force, here as everywhere else, but they wasn't too difficult to deal with. It was easier to fight Grimm than people.

Salem's forces had left the city alone, for the most part. Probably because a good deal of them were from here. Plenty of people with loose morals who were all to willing to do an odd job here or there for a few lien, so long as there was a bonus for not asking questions. The hub of her recruitment, her supply and her espionage operations were located here. And so was he.

Ironwood, in his darkest moments, had considered obliterating the town, either by abandoning it to the Grimm or by blasting it to hell himself. Qrow and Winter, and occasionally even Jaune, had had to talk him down. Kuchinashi was too populous, and too strategically important. It guarded Mistral's southern border, and was still an industrial center of some importance, in the wealthier, western half of the city. Plus Salem's spy network was an excellent intel source to piggyback off of.

In the dim morning light, the city was almost beautiful. The gaudy neon lights from the eastern half of the city were turned off as the night crawl came to a stop, and the fires of the factories had yet to begin burning. It was quiet, sleepy, and peaceful. For a few moments in the morning anyway.

He slowed as he reached the top of the foothills just inside the bounds of the city gates. The walls broke their semi-regular shape to form a deformed ellipse jutting from the rest of the structure, to contain the bounds of Lake Gardenia. The town relied on it for fresh water, and not too long ago it would have been vulnerable to attack.

The defenses here were surprisingly light, just a few volunteer patrols. Salem's goons, for now, weren't dumb enough to poison their own water. 'Give them a few weeks.' He thought sardonically, finally coming to a stop as he saw Winter, who was standing in the middle of the lake.

He rubbed his eyes as he stumbled on that thought. But when he was done, she was still standing there, on top of the water, poised and aloof as always.

" Are you coming, Arc?" She asked pointedly, voice carrying sternly to the shore, and though he couldn't see, he knew she was glaring at him. " Or do you need an invitation?"

" I'm not exactly dressed for swimming." He said, which should have been obvious considering he was covered in heavy armor, for Dusts' sake, and the black, Atlesian mesh he had used as part uniform, part pajamas.

"Then walk." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Newsflash, Winter, I don't know how to do that." He paused, before continuing. " I didn't know you could that." You'd think the ability to walk on water would come up in conversation.

Jaune sighed, bored, and then picked up a small, smooth stone. He felt the texture in his hands, weighing it, before smirking slightly. He leaned back, readying for a good throw, imbuing just a bit of his own aura, and tossed it. It bounced across the lake, hopping up and off its surface before sinking inches before it reached Winter.

'Seventeen skips.' He thought, satisfied, years of summer days by the pond with his sisters finally paying dividends. ' And people try to say I don't have skill.'

" You're a Huntsmen aren't you?" She asked cooly. " Channel your aura into your feet and use it to repel the water, instead of as a toy."

Jaune sighed, before concentrating his energy at the soles of his feet, knowing that that was all the help he was going to get. 'Sink or swim.' He thought dully. 'That's Winter in a nutshell.'

He put his first foot forward, and then fell face first into the water, letting out what could only be described as a very manly shriek, thank you very much. When he emerged, his suit was soaked through, and his armor coated in a thin layer of algae.

'My morning's officially shot.' He thought grimly. The mesh suit was unfortunately absorbent, clinging to his body as it swelled with icy water. Supposedly the suit was to provide protection against small arms, but he was convinced it was a roundabout method of torture for soldiers on rainy days. He would stay cold, and wet, and shivering for the next several hours at least, and that was if he was lucky.

His armor was generally resistant to rust, but he hated having to risk it, and he would have to spend an hour drying it off after they were done.

'Better try again.' Winter said sternly. She would not let him leave until he had mastered this ability that he had learned of not two minutes prior, or until he had drowned in the attempt.

He crawled back to the shore, before reluctantly stepping in a second time. This time, his feet sunk in, but the rest of his body was buoyed by a bubble of air created around them. It was progress. 'Come on, stay with me!' He thought, watching as his thighs began to dip below the water. He focused, desperately trying not to sink any deeper. It was quite literally sink or swim, and the irony was not lost on him. 'Sink or swim... damn it Yang.' He smiled, even as he broke his concentration and fell into the lake again. Of course it was a pun.

He didn't think Winter was the type for wordplay, and she seemed to be reinforcing that impression, gliding gracefully over the water with folded arms and a very unamused stare.

" What are you doing?" She asked, flicking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, bringing it back into its nice, neat order. It was a nervous tick of hers. Most people would miss it, but Jaune had learned as a matter of self preservation how to read her moods. She was irritated.

"Failing, obviously." He replied, all traces of a smile gone from his face as he awkwardly shimmied back to shore, thankful that he couldn't get any more damp or cold. " It's my second try, what did you expect?"

" I expect you to get it right, or at least to do better than that." Winter said unflinchingly, ice blue eyes meeting his own indigo orbs. He sighed, crawling back onto the dirt before readying himself for attempt number three.

'It's not that different from the stone.' He thought, remembering how he skipped the rock using his aura as a repellent, and trying to create the same effect in his feet.

He kept his eyes on Winter the entire time, knowing it wasn't entirely out of the question that she would jump him again. He had to be ready at all times. She was unfazed by his scrutiny, features passive and eyes cold.

Pyrrha's patient tutelage had taken him from ignorance to competence, warm hands guiding him, coaxing him through, every step of the way. Winter, by contrast, had beaten him into shape, like a blacksmith shaping a piece of raw iron. Both of them got the job done, pushing him too and beyond his limits, but the latter was far less pleasant.

He struggled, his feet beginning to waver. Winter stood, close enough to help him, simply watching, waiting for him to right himself or fall, standing calmly the entire time.

Jaune wondered darkly how she would feel if she had been drenched, repeatedly, and forced to get back up with no help. The image of Winter shivering, soaked and thrown off balance, entered his head as he imagined her miserably inching her way to shore with her spotless white clothes freezing and clinging to her body...probably being pretty transparent ...

'No!' Jaune thought angrily, as he dipped back down to his calfs. ' You need to focus!' Ever since Beacon he had been surrounded by attractive women who beat the crap out of him on a semi-regular basis. He was not into that sort of thing, but it was his cross to bear, and if he didn't keep his hormones under control, he'd be taking a very cold bath again.

Jaune sent a huge burst of aura to his sinking legs, which backfired. He shot out of the water and a few feet into the air before crashing into the surface of the lake on his back, air knocked out of his lungs by the impact, which only let him sink in further.

He came up sputtering water, though thankfully at this point he was numb to the effects of the ice cold lake. Winter didn't bother to say anything. She simply strode across the surface of the water until she reached the shore and began lightly stretching, a prelude to her own regimen.

If Jaune were a bit more naive, he might take this as an opportunity to ease up on this exercise, and catch his breath. He knew better, though, certain that at least one icy eye was still looking his way.

'What did Ren always say about aura manipulation?' He thought dully, sending a burst of white energy to his hands as the pressed against the lake. Jaune hadn't figured out how to stand, but he could fling himself into the air, and that was at least useful enough to get him up.

"Aura is the energy of the soul, and a pure extension of your self. To master it, you must master yourself." That was the tip. Ren had made it sound so easy, probably because to him, it was. The green clad ninja had always managed to keep an air of calm, even in the most ludicrous of situations. Maybe his system was custom built for it, semblance and all, or maybe years of exposure to Nora had desensitized him to all but the most extreme of stimuli.

Jaune recalled the advice vividly, having been desperate for any instruction at the time, having pulled aside his teammate in the JNPR dorm. As he landed, it seemed to get the job done, his feet hitting the lake, wobbling, before stabilizing. He tentatively adjusted the aura's intensity to counteract his instabilities, trying to recall more of his friend's help.

"Stay calm, and stay focused." Ren had said, after Jaune had convinced him to lead the squad training for a day. None of the other members of the team possessed quite his level of finesse on the subject. Nora's Aura was larger, and by virtue of its size and user, more difficult to control. Jaune had similar problems, in addition to his remarkable inexperience. Pyrrha had come the closest to matching the ninja, but even she was unused to using aura for anything other than a shield or her semblance. Ren's Aura was substantially smaller than all of theirs, but the boy was able to use it at near perfect efficiency, augmenting his attacks and environment with calculated ease

Jaune had taken his initial failure much as he took everything, with a pained smile and a determination to do better tomorrow, although even nearly two years later he had yet to fully master the skill like Ren had. Pyrrha had graciously complemented the black haired boy, with some sincere awkwardness at not being the best at a given skill. Nora had whined loudly about how 'Not everyone can be as cool as Renny!' after her 48th failed attempt to make a dummy explode with her bare hands, lacing even her complaints with a degree of admiration and affection as her partner gave her an encouraging look. That was as close as she could get to expressing something else, buried down deep.

'The closest she'd ever get.' Jaune thought sadly, trying to break that train of thought before he began dipping again. 'Stay calm...' he told himself. Memories of JNPR were bittersweet, and he had to keep his emotions in check. He forced himself to allow the stream of consciousness to continue, as his focus on the aura at his feet made anything other than a wondering mind difficult, and jarring himself away from painful thoughts would only break his concentration.

Much had changed since Jaune had forged his transcripts into Beacon. He wasn't the same wide eyed kid who had never seen a Grimm and had no idea what Aura even was. He had loved and lost, and seen his fair share of death and then some. Even dealt it out more often than he would have liked. Had he known a fraction of reality he was walking into, would he still have boarded that fateful airship to Beacon? 'Probably.' He thought dully. ' Isn't this what I always wanted?'. In a away, yes, it was. A powerful Huntsmen fighting against the forces of darkness.

Whatever pain it had caused him, Jaune wouldn't trade his choice that day for a comfortable life back in Vale. His time at Beacon had given him friends, who taught him how to fight, and gave him a reason to. Maybe things would have been better had he stayed with his family, but maybe not. He liked to think he had made a difference.

He had forged bonds with people he would never have imagined. Ren had been the brother he never had. Pyrrha was his mentor and confidant, and maybe something more if hadn't been so blind. Nora was... Nora. No adjective did the vivacious valkyrie justice.

Of course, there were others, friends that still lived on, but had been torn from him all the same. RWBY,SSSN and CFVY were out in Menagerie, fighting a ruthless guerilla war against the forces of the White Fang. His family was back in Vale, safe and sound and further away than ever.

The constant moving around had prevented him from getting to close to any other teams, so in effect the only real companions he had were Ironwood, Qrow and Winter.

Some would say it was surreal to be on friendly terms with the most powerful man in the world, but 'friendly terms' was perhaps a bit to generous. They were acquainted, although for a man as soul crushingly busy as Ironwood that was unusual.

Jaune had known far too much when he was brought in, and this was dealt with by immediately inducting him into the inner circle. He and Winter were some of the trusted few who knew about Salem, and the real source of the recent mayhem. That of course made direct contact with the General himself necessary for all those missions that were too sensitive for all but a handful. By circumstance, Jaune was among that trusted few.

He trusted the General too, more or less. He had seen plenty of glimpses of the man behind the iron mask. It was hard to think of the man as heartless after seeing him wince at every casualty report, grimace every time a town went dark and frown whenever another protester called him a tyrant. He certainly straddled that line, but it was hard to fault a man who had the entire world on his shoulders. Losing your closest friends and allies while watching nations tear themselves apart and then being expected to pick up the pieces alone was rough. Jaune could sympathize.

Qrow was... Qrow. The two had always rubbed each other the wrong way. Jaune supposed it was only natural. Qrow and Ironwood were frequently at loggerheads so if one of them liked him the other was bound not to.

That, and Jaune was too close to Qrow's nieces for his liking. He'd insisted that it didn't bother him, that Yang was old enough to take care of herself and Ruby could be buddies with whoever she liked, but the way he kept happily reminding Jaune how Taiyang would tear him to pieces if he pulled anything with either of them didn't help his case.

In the end they tolerated each other. They worked together well enough, and much of their sniping had mellowed into something resembling banter, mainly by necessity. Qrow was his best friends' uncle and Winter's ... associate, so the two of them had to make nice. Still, Jaune was happy to let Winter deal with the man as much as she wanted, eager to give them plenty of 'private time' if it meant ribbing Qrow and being spared his presence.

And then there was Winter. He looked over at her and saw the white haired warrior moving through her sword forms, sparing him only the occasional glance. He then looked down at his feet, which were covered in a faint, shimmering white glow and comfortably above the surface. The 'stream of consciousness' had translated into a steady flow of energy, and his feet had stayed comfortably above the water.

Jaune took an experimental step forward, and was buoyed upward. It was different than walking on dry land, but it still felt familiar, with his feet sinking slightly into the surface like it was a giant, wet mattress. Not certain as to what exactly Winter expected him to do at this point, Jaune began pacing in a rough circle, waiting for her to hurry up, notice him, and point out whatever inevitable flaws there were in his technique.

Winter was an excellent teacher, and a total hard ass. Her praise was faint and her tongue was sharp, leaving no room for error, and no tolerance for failure. Excellence was expected, demanded, and if he ever forgot it she had no qualms about reminding him, painfully.

Not that he was complaining about it. She was a miracle worker. He was walking on water! How many minutes ago had he not know that that was a thing? 40, maybe 45? She had taught how to shoot a rifle, how to lead a platoon, how to use dust... or at least make some AWESOME explosions ( because when it's man vs monster, dust is the great equalizer), and how to navigate the Atlesian Bureaucracy without making a complete ass of himself.

But it wasn't good enough. He wasn't near her level. He sighed, before looking over at her again. By this time she had finished her exercises and was coldly observing him.

From a distance, she almost looked like Weiss. The same hair, the same style, the same poise, the same pride, the same ethereal beauty, and the same cool distance. But, upon closer inspection, there were obvious differences. Winter was stronger, and though it was subtler, her pride ran even deeper than Weiss's, as did her temper. Winter was very rarely truly angry, but when she was, it was terrifying. Jaune still had nightmares about the last time he had really gotten under her skin, though these were far from the worst terrors his dreamscape could conjure up. Compared to most of his inner demons, a flushed, screaming Winter Schnee was a pleasant respite.

He was still far too weak. He had been so excited when he had finally started catching up to his comrades, finally able to fight side beside as a valuable member of JNPR, of RNJR, of JWRY.

Now he knew better. Next to the likes James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen and Winter Schnee, he was still the runt of the litter. Salem's forces had titans all their own, and the average Huntsman was only a pawn on the chessboard.

Still, pawn or not, he would at least try to make himself useful. Like it or not, wars couldn't be won without them.

"Hey, Winter!?" He called out, waving his hands in an attempt to get her attention. " I did it! What's next."

" Come here." She said, unmoved. A slightly arched brow was the only visible sign of her beckoning him over.

"Alright." He replied, preparing for anything as he approached the shore. Winter stood, unmoving, eyes on his feet the entire time.

"Are you tired?" She asked.

That caught Jaune off guard. Why on Earth would he be tired. "Maybe a little..." He said weakly. " You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn, and I haven't eaten yet." His stomach growled slightly, as if to prove his point.

Winter paused, and gave him a long, hard look. Then she sighed. " Dismissed Arc. You have the rest of the morning off." She then looked over his waterlogged form. " Do try to make yourself presentable. Alpha Platoon will be at the Inn soon, and I'd like you to attempt looking official for once."

" I thought I was headed into East Kuchinashi with you and Qrow?" Jaune asked. "Wasn't this mission supposed to be kind of a big deal? Where we needed all three of us to take out the target?" Ironwood had kept silent about the details, but Jaune had gathered that this wasn't some regular mob boss they were trying to off.

"Change of plans." Winter replied. " Our primary target has a network of accomplices across the city, and Qrow's intel says that most of them will be in one place today. You'll flush them out while Qrow and I take the leader."

Jaune shrugged. " Fine with me." Taking out Salem's foot soldiers was well within the capabilities of the average platoon, but if Winter wanted to give him the easier mission, so be it. It'd be odd baby sitting soldiers instead of the other way around, but he'd manage.

"Do try not to get killed." She said as he began walking away, heading back to the inn to eat and rest and salvage what was left of his day.

Jaune chuckled sardonically as he quickened his pace.

Well, I've been chewing on this one for a while now. Sorry for the wait, but I've hammered out the overarching plot I want to take, and hope to update on a more frequent basis from now on. Perhaps every friday (and actually live up to my username), but we'll see.