So here it is, my new fic. I'm not abandoning Once More With Feeling, never fear. I just needed another writing outlet, and here it is. Updates will come sporadically, but the next chapter will almost certainly be out some time next week.
I know the premise of a looping Jaune has been done before, but I think I've put enough personal touches on this one so that it's not a waste of your—or my—time.
If you somehow got here without having watched RWBY, I don't think it's strictly necessary to have done so to enjoy this fic. That being said, you'll definitely enjoy this more if you have. Besides, it's not an especially long show (maybe 10 hours runtime for all 4 seasons) and is really quite good so you might as well go watch it. All the episodes are available on Youtube.
Please PM me with any spelling/grammatical/consistency errors you notice and I'll fix them.
Reviews are, as ever, greatly appreciated.
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Chapter 1: 17 Again
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality."
—Pyrrha Nikos, pre-loop
The red Dust that suffused Jaune's aura ran out, and the fires around him slowly died. He took several shuddering breaths as he took in the charred corpses around him. He'd always like using fire for the upper echelons of Salem's cabal. The smoking remnants of the human and faunus were indistinguishable from the remains of Grimm. Finally, their true forms revealed.
Of course, if you waited around too long it would become apparent they weren't, as their flesh continued to smolder instead of disappearing entirely into smoke. That was rarely a problem for him: he didn't like to dawdle.
He let out a sigh as he leaned on Crocea Mors. He would've liked to rest further, but he was on a strict timetable. If he hurried he should have a chance to face Salem herself. Victory was unlikely, but that had never stopped him from trying before. This was further than he'd made it in many loops.
At the cost of your friends, an insidious voice whispered inside him. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but think of the trail of bodies that had helped him get to this point.
Doesn't matter. They'll be back soon.
Just in time for you to get them killed again?
No—
The sound of heels striking stone broke him out of his melancholy thoughts. Deep red eyes, deathly white skin with purple and burgundy veins, long black cloak.
Salem.
"So you're the one who's been such a thorn in my side," she said, drawing closer. She stopped several feet away and looked him up and down. "I thought you'd be—."
"Shut up," Jaune said, mouth fixed in a rictus of loathing.
Red eyes flashed, and anger shone through her calm facade. It had probably been a long time since someone had had the audacity to interrupt her. He brought his sword up into a guard position and pulled out the last of his Dust crystals.
She made a placating gesture, serene mask returning. "We have lots to talk about, you and I, don't be overly hasty. Or do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere?"
"In a manner of speaking," he said, glancing at the scroll on his hip to check the time. He could afford a few more seconds to catch his breath.
"I'm afraid you won't be able to make it."
He let out a rueful chuckle despite himself. "Oh, how I wish that were true. Despite many attempts though, this is one appointment I just can't miss."
"Well, if—"
Time was up. Jaune Arc absorbed the Dust crystal into his aura and rushed forward, lifting his sword to strike at the heart of evil, at humanity's greatest foe.
It was immediately apparent to both combatants how the fight would end. He was low on Dust, tired and injured from fighting through her minions, and they stood in the seat of her power. Not that any of that really mattered. At the end of the day, she was simply too strong for him. A year of training, no matter how dedicated, no matter how many skills came pre-packaged, was simply not enough to face someone like her.
Still, he put up a good fight, and got several new insights into her fighting style. That was the real point of this: small lessons that were not enough to serve him in this life, but might make the difference in the next. Or, more realistically, in one several dozen loops down the line.
The inevitable happened. Dust depleted and aura low, he overextended and she disarmed him. His blade clattered to the floor, as did everything below his right elbow.
The pain shocked him, but only briefly. He'd learned long ago how to mostly ignore its effects, and he'd certainly had enough practice at it over the years. He'd lost more limbs than, well, than he could count on his limbs.
"Now, I believe we were having a discussion before you so rudely disrupted it."
Unholy bitch didn't even have the decency to sound out of breath.
"There are a number of questions I have for you," she said, "and you can answer them now or later. Answering now will be quite a bit more pleasant for you, I assure you."
He glanced at the time and laughter bubbled up inside him once more. "Sorry to disappoint, but I still have that commitment I mentioned before."
"You're not going anywhere. If you won't answer—"
"Nope," he said, grinning. Fury stole onto her face, and the hall darkened. Interrupted three times in one day! Oh, the humanity. "How's this for a discussion: I hate you and everything you stand for. I sincerely hope that you die in a fire, and that one of these days I get to be that fire."
The hall darkened further and awful power struck out at him, but the blow never landed. The clock struck 9:23:23, on the eighth day of the fifth month, in the year 81 A.W.. And, like it had hundreds of times before, his semblance triggered and the world disappeared in a flash of color.
Jaune lost all sense of his corporeal body. He was his aura. It was an uncomfortable sensation, one that he doubted he would ever get used to, no matter how many times this happened. Time did not pass while he was in this state, or perhaps it raced by. After eons—or perhaps no time at all—he saw/smelt/felt/heard/tasted a light approaching.
He was stretched into a band of infinite width and compressed into a single point. He was as scorching as the sun and as frigid as the vacuum of space. He was omnipresent and nowhere, for all time and never. He was the brightest effulgence, he was the blackest umbra.
And then he was through and he was simply Jaune Arc, huntsman-in-training.
He fought the temptation to glance down at his belt. His scroll wouldn't be there; this version of him did not yet keep it there. Besides, he knew what it would say: 9:23:23…24…25, 08/05/80. Exactly one year earlier than his confrontation with Salem.
"…unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee." Pyrrha's voice was sweet music to his ears. He drank in the sight of the red-haired girl as she briefly sagged in fatigue. He reached out a hand to help her, but she stood up and brushed it aside.
"It's alright. I used my aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own." She smiled as he felt the cut on his cheek heal. "You have a lot of it."
"Thank you, Pyrrha," he said, breaking out into his own smile. Unlike hers, it was a huge, goofy thing. He tried to rein it in, but he couldn't help it. It was always such a relief to see his friends again. Every time he saw them die a part of him was afraid that they wouldn't be coming back.
"You're welcome, Jaune," she said. A few seconds passed and he was still grinning like and idiot. "Are you alright? I know having your aura awoken can feel somewhat strange."
"I'm great," he said, finally getting his facial muscles under control. He was still smiling, but now it was more happy-to-talk-to-you and less happy-to-murder-you-the-second-your-back-is-turned. "Shall we get going?"
As they walked Jaune delved into his aura. Freshly awoken as it was, it was sluggish to respond. As it always is, he thought with a mental sigh. Having to repeatedly retrain his aura was one of the more frustrating aspects of looping. Retraining his body was annoying as well, sure, but having a weak body didn't constantly make him feel uncomfortable. His underdeveloped aura made him feel slow and dumb and blind, like he was wading through molasses with a bag over his head.
His first few loops he'd hoped his advancements in aura would come back with him, as it did feel like it was his aura that was being sent back. That obviously hadn't happened. His working theory was that his aura was consumed to send his consciousness back, which might also explain the one-year limit. His semblance wouldn't let him go any further than he had the aura to get sent back. That didn't fully track, as he had varying levels of aura at the end of each loop based on the amount of training he'd done and was always sent back on the same day (unless he died before it), but it was his best guess. He'd spent quite a bit of time trying to figure his semblance out, mostly in hopes of trying to figure out a way to keep it from automatically triggering, but he'd eventually given it up as a lost cause.
Thinking of his semblance, he sent his attention towards it. A tight ball of aura held at his core, counting down the thirty-one million seconds until this would start all over again. He usually checked his scroll for the time because of the concentration required to check on his semblance, but it was still always there, inexorably counting down to the next reset. Or, it always had been before…
He stumbled in shock. His semblance wasn't active. His. Semblance. Wasn't. Active.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream at the heavens. If his semblance wasn't active, did that mean his actions actually counted this time? Would he get to celebrate his 19th birthday? Go out with a girl for more than a few months? Have enough time to finally—finally!—get strong enough to wipe that shit-eating grin off Salem's face?
He realized Pyrrha was calling his name, and had been for several seconds.
"…Jaune? Jaune! Jaune!?"
"Sorry," he said, shaking his head to bring himself back to Remnant, "I just…zoned out for a bit, I guess…"
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, "We can take a break for a bit if you want. These woods are dangerous. If you're not on your guard you might get hurt."
"No, I'm fine. I'll do better, I promise." He gave her a weak smile. She clearly still had some misgivings, but she kept them to herself and they resumed walking. The ruins, where they would find the 'relics' that were their goal, weren't far off.
Jaune's hands began to shake and he couldn't get them to stop. If his semblance wasn't active, that meant that anything he screwed up couldn't simply be done over again. For someone who'd spent untold time with the knowledge that any mistake, no matter how large, could be undone by waiting at most twelve months (and much, much less if he was willing to take the easy way out), that was terrifying.
I lived seventeen years of my life like that, I can do it again.
Yeah, and how well did those seventeen years go? I seem to remember a string of embarrassing failures...and if you couldn't win your war with hundreds of tries, how are you going to manage it with only one?
No, it wouldn't be like that. He had skills and plans and foreknowledge. And without the time-crunch he normally had to operate under he could take it slow. Be cautious. Keep his friends and allies alive. Train until he was ready. He knew the enemy's plans, and knew how to stop them. He'd stopped them before and he would stop them again.
And how many times did you manage to stop them without losing one of your friends in the process? Pyrrha. Weiss. Ren. Ruby. Blake. Nora.
Each name hit him like a bullet as images of bloody corpses and mangled bodies flashed through his mind to accompany them.
Yang.
He barely stopped himself from growling.
No.
His hands clenched into fists, and they stilled. That wouldn't happen this time. He would protect them. He would protect them all.
A scream sounded out in the distance. He and Pyrrha shared a brief look before breaking out into a run towards it.
Weiss Schnee was not having a good day.
It had started out well enough, despite the rough accommodations. She'd met Pyrrha Nikos—the Pyrrha Nikos—and the four-time champion had agreed to be on her team. Of course she had, who wouldn't want to be on a team with the brilliant heir to the Schnee Dust Company? There had been a minor hiccup when that blond boor had interrupted things, but even then Pyrrha had been the one to get him out of her way, just further cementing their fledgling friendship.
Then they'd been told how team selections would happen. Eye contact! Could you believe that? Something as important as the makeup of their teams, the people they were to spend the next four years of their lives with, left mostly to chance! It was ridiculous. But it was what it was, and she was going to work with it. A Schnee does not complain, she takes what she wants regardless of what is in her way.
Pyrrha had been launched right behind her, so she'd kept an eye over her shoulder, and used her glyphs to land as near to the red-haired girl as she could. Unfortunately she'd gotten a bit...turned around...as she landed and was still getting her bearings when that child had rushed up to her.
Still better than being stuck with the blond idiot. Or so she'd thought at the time. One argument, one botched fight, and one harebrained scheme later and she wasn't so sure.
Holding on to the claws of a giant nevermore watching the trees pass far below, she'd been forced to reconsider. Still, even that might have worked out...okay...if the over-sized bird had just continued on as normal. Falling from that height wasn't all that different from how they'd entered the forest in the first place.
But it hadn't. Shortly before they reached the temple ruins, the Grimm had gone—insane was the wrong word. That implied sanity to begin with. Mad was probably the best word for it. Letting out an ear-splitting shriek, it had contorted itself to peck frantically at the two girls hanging off of its claws. They'd taken a few quick, surprise hits, but their aura was more than up to the task of protecting them.
It was a disadvantageous position to fight from though, so that had seemed like a good time to get going. She'd dropped off, Ruby following shortly after.
She sighed as she fell. Where had it all gone wrong? Scratch that, she knew exactly where. 'Why her?' was a better question. But not a useful one. Sighing again, she set to slowing her fall. Vertical momentum was quite a bit more annoying for her to deal with than the primarily horizontal momentum she'd had to deal with for her "landing strategy", but many of the same principles applied. Her glyphs could give her something to stand on, and let her accelerate things on them to some degree, but when using them she was still subject to the laws of physics. If she created a glyph right under her as she fell, it would be just as damaging as hitting the ground. Instead, she had to make a series of glyphs to bleed off her speed a little bit at a time.
Their destination was still some distance away as well, so she angled towards it and began turning her uncontrolled fall into a horizontal glide. A flash of red shot past her, propelled by gun blasts and excited whooping. She shook her head and landed by the temple ruins a few seconds later, looking up to find that two people were already there.
The midget's older sister and the girl who'd insulted her family's company. Great.
"Ruby!"
"Yang!"
Their reunion was interrupted by the sound of nearby explosions. After a few moments of relative silence, two more people came out of the woods. The girl was short with orange hair, and was beaming from ear-to-ear. The boy was dressed in green and white, with a magenta streak through his jet-black hair. He looked somewhat worse for wear.
"But why would Mr. Fluffykins turn on us like that?" she asked, sounding like nothing more than a disappointed child.
"Uh, maybe because he was a heartless embodiment of evil?" he replied.
"You take that back! Mr. Fluffykins was a faithful steed who served us well. Something must have turned him against us." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked at her partner. "Ren, did you—"
"I did not 'turn' that Ursa against us. It was a Grimm. It was against us from the moment it was spawned." He sounded resigned, like he already knew he'd lost the argument, no matter how illogical his partner was being.
Weiss tuned them out. So this girl was crazy too. Maybe she should have partnered with Jaune; it was starting to seem like all the girls at this school were certifiably insane. At this rate it was going to turn out that Pyrrha had a crippling fear of trees or fire or something.
A series of crashes in the distance interrupted their bickering.
"I can't take it any more!" Yang yelled. "Could everyone just chill out for two seconds before something crazy happens again?"
There was about a second of silence.
And then Grimm came pouring out of the woods.
It was mostly Beowolves and Ursa, with a pair of King Taijitu slithering along to the side. The crashing revealed itself to be a Death Stalker, scuttling forward on its eight legs, pincers and stinger waving menacingly. To make matters worse, the giant Nevermore was circling back again.
Shock was evident on everyone's faces. This was a ludicrous number of Grimm for first-year students to fight. Surely this wasn't an intended part of the test, was it? Weiss had never heard of anyone dying during Beacon's initiation, and if this happened regularly someone definitely would have.
As they stood in stunned silence, two more people emerged from the woods, Grimm hot on their heels. Pyrrha and Jaune. Of course those two would end up together. Priorities, Weiss, she reminded herself.
"Great, the gang's all here. Now we can die together!" Yang said. She said it in an upbeat, joking manner, but the reality of the situation robbed it of its humor.
The pair reached the six of them and looked around. The blond boy looked even more astounded than the rest of them.
"How is this happening?" he demanded, "What did you all do?"
"Do?" Weiss replied, crossing her arms. "We didn't 'do' anything"
"They're here to avenge Mr. Fluffykins!" the orange-haired girl cried.
"Don't ask," Yang's partner (Blake, was it?) said, as Jaune and Pyrrha opened their mouths.
"What are we going to do?" Jaune asked instead.
"There's no sense in dilly-dallying," Weiss said. "Our objective is right in front of us."
"She's right," Ruby said, pointing at the chess pieces. "Our mission is to grab an artifact and make it back to the cliffs."
The Grimm were nearly on them by then, so they burst into motion. Jaune grabbed the remaining white knight, while Ruby snagged the other white rook. As they ran up the hill behind the ruins however, dark silhouettes topped the rise.
"We're surrounded," the black-haired boy said.
"Looks like we get to do some fighting after all," Yang said, yellow bracelets expanding into gauntlets.
"We fight in a circle, backs to the center. Spread out a bit so we have space and don't get over-run. Ruby, you seem fast. Hold yourself in reserve and help out anyone who's in trouble." Jaune paused then continued sheepishly, "There's a good chance that'll be me. Weiss, you use Dust, right? Use it to support us and plug any holes in our formation. We have to be able to trust that our flanks are secure. We don't have to hold out forever, just until the teachers get here."
Weiss stopped, staring at 'vomit-boy' Jaune. She wasn't the only one. Where had this authority come from? Not to mention the fact that it actually sounded like a half-decent plan.
"Move!" Blake shouted, and they broke into action.
The Grimm hit them seconds later.
Weiss hung back, as per the plan, Ruby beside her. She held Myrtenaster up, set to ice Dust, ready to react the second someone was in trouble. It turned out to be unnecessary, as they repulsed the first wave fairly easily. Jaune looked like the only one struggling, but even he did alright. Watching him, his successes were more due to luck than any skill on his part, but still, it worked.
She'd nearly had to intervene at one point as a pair Beowolves attacked him while he was engaged with an Ursa, but his luck saved him again. A furious swipe from the larger Grimm hit his shield and spun him around. He barely managed to hang on to his sword as he got spun, and the hit somehow lined up his sword with the necks of the two attacking Grimm. The spin finished and he was left facing his solo opponent once again, a confused look on his face.
Maybe his semblance was something luck-based? Or maybe it was the universe restoring karmic balance after sticking them in such a terrible situation. Whatever it was, they were holding.
And then the Death Stalker reached them and it all went downhill.
Jaune accepted a strike on his shield, sending a clumsy chop down on the paw that didn't pull back quickly enough. Shadowy flesh dropped to the ground, the offending limb somewhat shortened. He put his shield back up and waited for another attack.
Outwardly he looked panicky but focused, inwardly he was fuming. Why the hell were this many Grimm here? He'd never seen anything like this happen before, which for him was really saying something. Yes, there had probably always been this many Grimm in the surrounding forest, but what had caused them to congregate here and attack the students?
And what was taking the teachers so long to reach them? He'd seen how quickly they could move when they wanted to. Unless…what if whatever had gotten into these Grimm had affected the whole forest? There weren't that many teachers in the whole school, and they probably weren't all watching the test. If the two or three teachers who oversaw the test had to save all of the forty-odd students then they might be a while without help.
The Grimm were also acting strangely. He looked at the Ursa in front of him who, despite being down a paw, had just reared up on its hind legs to continue attacking him with its other front leg. They were always aggressive, but now they fought with reckless abandon. He'd seen Grimm act like this before, but normally it took the orders of Salem or one of her lieutenants to set them off.
The Ursa attacked and he saw an opening. He could step inside its strike and either take off limb and then head, or block at the elbow where the leverage favored him and decapitate it that way.
Instead he took the blow awkwardly on his shield and waited for a more obvious opportunity.
He realized he was grinding his teeth together and slowly forced himself to unclench his jaw. It was frustrating to hide his skill at the best of times. With his friends in mortal danger around him, it was impossibly aggravating.
His vow to protect them was off to a poor start, but he had no choice. He'd been down this road before, many, many times, and he knew the danger of appearing too skilled too quickly. That always sent Ozpin to check into his past. The headmaster would inevitably discover his faked transcripts and would be left wondering why someone of his talents would bother faking transcripts when he could have just taken the special entrance exam like Blake had. At some point Ironwood would get involved, they would decide he was a spy, and then everything would go to shit. Painful, painful shit.
He'd only found one narrative that he could construct that didn't end up with him on the wrong side of an interrogation room while still (eventually) allowing him to fight with his full strength. He had to start off weak and "improve" very quickly. Cast himself as someone with immense potential who had just never gotten the instruction he needed to really shine. His unusually large aura reserves helped with that.
Done properly, he could also usually convince everyone that his semblance was rapid learning. Semblances that were abstract rather than having a tangible physical manifestation were rare, but some did exist, such as Velvet's (ability to mimic people's moves) and Qrow's (misfortune for those around him). It would be a strange semblance, but not an impossible one.
On the other hand, if he started out fighting at all decently, even just on the level as the rest of the fist-years, he would get found out. Every. Fucking. Time. It was one of the constants of his life: death, taxes, and the paranoia of the Beacon staff.
The Ursa finally went for a swipe that left it completely off-balance; they weren't really made to stand on just two feet for any length of time. He stepped forward and decapitated it, returning quickly to his position as another Ursa took its place.
His foes didn't take that much of his attention, so he kept track of the other fights around him. Ruby and Weiss were no longer in reserve, their strength needed to keep the Death Stalker at bay. Without a cliffside to drop it off of, its heavily armored carapace was proving to be quite a problem for the huntsmen-to-be.
Jaune wished they could make their way over to the part of the ruins with the bridge and crevasse. It was much more defensible and would favor the humans, with their greater mobility, over the Grimm. Unfortunately, there was a mass of black flesh and white bone between them and there, and he didn't think they had the co-ordination to pull off a fighting retreat. Besides, there was no way he could have known about the rest of the ruins at this point in the timeline, and he couldn't think of another excuse good enough to convince his friends to risk their lives on it.
He noticed trouble nearby, and "tripped", his sword flying out of his hand. It flew to the side, and embedded itself in the black head of the King Taijutsu whose white head was engaging Ren. The black head had been sneaking along in the shadow of its other half, looking to ambush the quiet boy, as was standard strategy for the snake-like Grimm. Throwing a sword with any sort of accuracy was notoriously difficult due to their bad weighting, but Jaune was intimately familiar with every aspect of Crocea Mors. It was an extension of himself, and it went where he wanted it to.
He rolled across the ground and sprang to his feet, recovering his sword and returning hurriedly to his position. Ren spared him a quick nod, but there was no time for anything more. As he moved back he glanced behind him, and his blood ran cold.
Ruby was pinned to the ground by her cloak, massive feathers piercing through it and deep into the ground. Beowolves danced around her. She fought them as best she could, but for someone who relied to heavily on speed and mobility being pinned to one place was a death sentence. Every time she turned to face one, another moved in to bite and claw, to rend and tear. This couldn't have been going on for more than a couple seconds, and she was already bleeding freely in a few places.
Jaune instantly headed to her side, but he was too slow. The thirty feet between them might as well have been thirty miles. A Beowolf, larger than the rest, darted in and fetched Ruby a hard blow to the chest. The small girl was thrown back, her body pivoting around around the pinned cape to slam into the ground.
She lay still on the ground.
"No," Jaune growled, pushing himself to move even faster. Strong and quick as she was, Ruby was not especially durable.
The Beowolf followed after the little girl with the red hood, looking to finish her off. Jaune was tempted to look away, but he wouldn't do her that disservice.
The irony, that he who had had nothing but time for so very long now needed just a split second more, but wouldn't get it.
And then Blake was there. A whirlwind of motion, she struck the large Beowolf across the snout. Once, twice, thrice Gambol Shroud shot out, and the Grimm was left reeling. She pressed her advantage, and shortly the Grimm was nothing more than a pool of black ichor.
Jaune reached Ruby and flipped her over. He was moving in to check for a pulse when she coughed and opened her eyes.
"Hey…" she said weakly.
She struggled to stand. Jaune wanted to tell her to stay down, but this was neither the time or place. He helped her to her feet and handed Crescent Rose back to her.
"Hey yourself, little lady," he said.
Her cheeks tinged red. Oops, he always forgot how much she hated being called that.
"How do you feel?"
By way of answering, she spun her scythe around a few times and gave him a tight-lipped smile. She was still moving more lethargically than usual, but it would have to do. She returned to the fight and so did he, but his mind was racing.
This wasn't working.
His friends simply weren't ready yet for this level of engagement. The hits they'd received were starting to add up, their aura diminishing. Fatigue was setting in, their movements beginning to flag. If he had to to save them he would go all-out and damn the consequences, but he had a play he wanted to try first. What was holding him back was the eyes (and cameras) that were watching him. The solution was simple: go somewhere there were no eyes or cameras. The only complication was getting the Grimm to come with him, but he had an idea for that.
"This isn't working!" he yelled. "I'm going to draw them off, head up the hill and deal with the stragglers from there."
"What? No!" Pyrrha shouted, but he was already moving.
He ran for the thinnest part of the Grimm's lines. He ducked and wove through them, "tripping" twice to avoid strikes he couldn't have dodged without a showy move. As he ran, he banged his sword and shield together raucously, creating a harsh clanging noise. He also kept up a running diatribe.
"Hey idiots, over here! You call yourselves Grimm? I've seen more fearsome puppies! Stop trying to hit me and hit me! My grandmother's bites are more scary than yours, and she doesn't have any teeth!"
Grimm all around the clearing turned to face him. Nearly every one of them that wasn't directly engaged broke off from what it was doing and headed his way. He ran, fearsome host following close behind, teeth snapping at his heels.
The clanging and yelling might have attracted a few of the Grimm, but he wouldn't bet on it. No, what drew them to him was the one thing they always went to. Their ambrosia, their clarion call. Negativity.
As he ran past them he focused on all the tragedies that had ever befallen him, and boy were there plenty. He pictured his friends, maimed, dead and dying, of which he could call to mind dozens of iterations each. He thought of the futility of fighting against the titanic forces that were arrayed against humanity. He imagined his friends dying here because of him. They certainly hadn't the first time through, and he was the only thing that had changed.
He let the wells of despair that always dwelled just below the surface bubble up. Tears flowed down his face, but he kept moving, pulling the Grimm further from his friends and away from the areas that Ozpin had under surveillance. His cameras covered most of the approach from the cliffs of Beacon to the ruins, but they didn't encompass the whole forest. It was far too large for that.
He reached a small clearing and stopped. He wasn't positive he'd gone far enough to escape Ozpin's sight, but it would have to do. He was getting tired, and he would need his strength.
At this point he was probably not that much more capable than any other academy student. More skilled, certainly. But the mind could only do so much when the body was weak. Against a human or even one of the Elder Grimm, that would be a huge problem. They were unpredictable, could plan and react to take advantage of his weaknesses. But for the relatively mindless Grimm like this, well…
He'd killed tens of thousands Beowolves and Ursai over his many loops. Even King Taijitu, rare as they were, had died by the hundreds at his hands. Maybe more: those were conservative estimates, and he certainly hadn't been counting. And now? He could probably fight them with his eyes closed. Not because the skill disparity was that large, but because he knew their exact capabilities and behaviors. Fighting something was easy when you could predict to the millimeter where it would be ten seconds later.
As the first of his opponents broke through the tree line he rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. The corners of his mouth turned upwards. Talking to people, making plans, protecting his friends. None of that was stuff he was any good at. Killing Grimm? Now that was something he could do.
"Hello, old friends. Let's dance."
Yang slammed her fist into the chest of the last Ursa, Ember Celica blowing it back and to the ground. It began smoking immediately so she let her semblance fade. They weren't out of the woods—heh—just yet, but all that remained was the Death Stalker and the Nevermore. Seven against two was pretty good odds. Thinking of their numbers immediately brought to mind the eighth member of their group and she looked towards the patch of forest he'd disappeared into. The underbrush was torn up and crushed, trampled by the passing of many blackened feet.
He'd been gone for several minutes, but he was still OK. She knew he was. He had to be okay, he just…had to be.
Why had he been the one to draw them off? Of everyone here he was the least mobile. Why hadn't she thought to do it before him? More to the point, how had he gotten all of their attention? Yeah that clanging had been annoying, and he'd hit them with some sick burns, but that shouldn't have been enough, should it? Surely the Grimm weren't that sensitive.
"Yang!" Ruby yelled. She looked over to her sister. The girl was pretty banged up, but it seemed like she was doing a little better now. Yang's heart had nearly stopped when she'd seen Ruby go down. Engaged as she was, she hadn't been able to get there in time.
"Yang, we have a plan. Those three are going to hold off the Death Stalker while we deal with the Nevermore. Your part is to act as a distraction while we get set up."
She's fine now, she's okay. Already back to making her crazy plans. Still, that had been the most scared Yang had been in a very long time. But it had worked out. Blake had been there to save her, and Jaune had helped her get back on her feet.
Jaune…
"Actually," she said, "how necessary is that distraction?"
"I guess we could make do, why?" the younger girl looked worried. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Classic Ruby. She was the worst-off out of all of them and was still concerned about the well-being of everyone else. "If you don't need me, I'm going to go after Jaune. Maybe I can distract the Grimm long enough for him to get away, then take to the trees or something."
"By now he must have lost them or, more likely, has already fallen," Blake said with a tone of clinical detachment.
"You don't know that," Yang replied, anger rising. "He put himself in danger for us and you're just—"
Ruby put a hand on Yang's shoulder, and simply said one word. "Go."
Yang nodded and dashed off, using her anger to fuel her tired muscles. She couldn't believe Blake—her supposed partner—was being so cold-hearted. So cynical.
So...realistic.
No, he would be fine.
She hurried, using Ember Celica to propel herself over any difficult terrain. Jaune's path was impossible to find, but the Grimm's path was impossible to miss. Soon enough the sounds of fighting reached her. Was he making a valiant last stand? She pushed herself to move even faster.
She jumped over a log and beheld a sight drastically different from the one she'd expected.
Smoking Grimm bodies lay everywhere. Live Grimm still fought in the clearing, but it was a fraction of the number they'd faced before. And at their center…
She wanted to call him Jaune. He looked the same, wore the same clothes, wielded the same weapons. But there the resemblance ended. Where the Jaune she'd seen before had been nervous and stumbling, this one moved with a smooth, easy confidence. Where before there'd been stress plainly etched in his features, now he fought with his eyes half-closed, a lazy smile on his face. And where before he'd struggled with a lone Ursa, now…
It was disingenuous to say what was happening in front of her was a fight.
The Grimm came at him, and they died.
He wasn't moving with any particular speed or force. If anything his movements were almost languid. But somehow he was always in the right place at the right time. He dodged blows almost before they'd begun, never moving any further than he had to, tooth and claw passing millimeters from his body. His counter-attacks were slow and weak, but they always hit a critical point, lopping off limbs and heads with equal ease. He didn't attack where the Grimm were, but rather where they were going to be, making it look almost as if the Grimm were running into his sword on purpose.
She let out an audible gasp, unsure how this was possible. He heard her, and his body whipped around to face her.
His eyes shot fully open, and panic broke through his serene expression. The sudden movement put him in the way of a descending claw. It struck him, but he moved with it, turning his graceless tumble into a controlled roll. He stood awkwardly for a moment, as if unsure whether to keep fighting now that she'd seen him, but with a shrug he moved back in to finish off the last of his foes.
Yang waited where she was so as not to distract him again. A beeping made her look at her scroll. It was Ruby: they'd taken down the Death Stalker and Nevermore and were just waiting for her—and Jaune?—to make it back to them.
She looked up from her scroll to see the final corpse hitting the ground and she rushed forward. She wanted to shout 'That was awesome!' and ask him to teach her those cool moves, but the fight before weighed heavily on her mind.
"What…what was that? Who are you?" she said instead. What are you?
He winced. "I don't suppose we could just pretend you never saw this?"
"Why hide your skill like this?" Why didn't you fight like this before, when we needed the help?
He sheathed his sword and rubbed the back of his neck, innocent awkward boy mode engaged again. "I, well, I can't tell you. You wouldn't believe me anyway."
"You don't know that," she said, getting even more offended. How did he know what she would or wouldn't believe? He barely knew her!
He let out a laugh at that. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."
Yang felt her semblance activate.
"Listen," he continued, "could you please not tell—"
He cut off as she slapped him across the face. He could've dodged it—she saw his muscles tense—but he let it hit him. That didn't help her anger.
"Ruby almost died!" she yelled. "She would have, if Blake hadn't gotten there in time…"
It looked like her words hit him harder than her hand had.
"I…I know. If I'd thought anything like that was going to happen I would've fought them like this right away." He gestured to the remains of the Grimm around them. "I thought the teachers would come to our rescue faster, I thought we'd be able to hold out fine, I thought…" he trailed off. "Doesn't matter. If anything had happened to her I never would've forgiven myself. I'm sorry, Yang, I really am."
She stood in silence for a moment, still shaking with anger.
"You're sorry? Sorry wouldn't bring my sister back if she'd died."
He retreated further into himself. "I know, I know! I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you. And her. But please, please, don't tell anyone about this. I led the Grimm off and gave them the slip, with your help if that's what you want. No one can know about my skills. I can't explain, but this is bigger than you and me. A lot of people's lives are riding on this."
"Why the hell should I believe that?" Lives were riding on it? What a self-aggrandizing turd.
"Well," he said, before pausing to think for a second. "If you won't believe me then do it as a favor." He blushed. "For all that I should have done it sooner and better, I did save the lives of you and your sister. You seem like an honorable sort. If you want to pay me back, all you need to do is keep quiet about this and we'll be more than even. Hate"—his voice broke—"hate me if you want, but please don't speak a word of this."
She thought for a moment, looking into his pleading sapphire eyes. "Fine. I won't talk. But you want to make this up to me? Stay away from me and my sister."
He smiled weakly and pulled something out of his pocket. A white knight, just like the one she'd grabbed.
"That might be a little hard…roomie."
"Ugh." She turned on her heel and left.
And Jaune Arc watched as Yang Xiao-Long, love of his many lives, stormed away from him in disgust.
.
.
Is Yang being unfair? That's for you to decide. But, as she might say, she is a bit of a hothead (get it? There's a reason she's one of my favorite characters). Also her sister almost died, and the reasons she's been given are vague and unsatisfying. I know I'd be pretty pissed in her position.
We're going to be looking into the possibilities of Dust and Aura somewhat further than the show does. Everything I have planned is based off what is shown in the show, but I have to extrapolate somewhat since not that much is actually explained. I'll be doing my best to make it coherent and relatively balanced. I hope I don't take it anywhere you all find too far-fetched, though if I do I'm sure you won't hesitate to tell me.
Jaune…may not be the poster boy for mental health. It's not easy to watch the people you love die again and again.
And don't worry. Jaune may be strong, but he's not going to solve every problem with a wink and a flex of his mighty thews. There will be trouble and conflicts galore. Anyone who's read my other fic knows I love to watch characters struggle.
A.W. = After War. I don't think a year system is ever mentioned in the show, and given how completely the Great War reshuffled the geopolitical landscape, it makes sense to me that that's where they'd count from.
I was planning on hiding the pairing, as when I'm reading I usually prefer the surprise, but in trying to write it that way I realized it didn't really make sense. Jaune's been through this before, he knows what he wants. This doesn't mean that'll necessarily be the first pairing, or the only pairing, or even the last pairing. You'll just have to keep reading (and I guess I'll have to keep writing) for you to find out.
There were a number of lines lifted straight from canon in this chapter. That will probably not happen much, if at all, in later chapters (except for catch-phrases and the like), as the timeline has already diverged pretty far.