Many complained about the unfairness of the world.
Every since some animal attained sentience, all have long since wondered why the world had it out for them, why the universe itself rarely seemed on their side.
It was a complaint that echoed throughout the universe, present in the affairs of even those with divine power. Two brothers that held such power once quarreled over the fairness of the hearts of men, and a lonely woman complained about the shortness of life.
Misguided though their thoughts may be, they still respected that the universe ran on certain inevitable truths.
The inevitability of the passage of time.
The inevitability of procreation.
Of death.
The gods respected this, and punished those who did not. (Though preventing Salem's death broke the rules too, we don't talk about that.)
Yet the gods left, and even in their absence these inevitable's still held true. The laws of the universe were forever followed. People's woes about the fairness of the world would forever fall on deaf ears, as no gods remained to listen. Their complaints gone ignored by the universe.
Yet The rules, at one point, had been broken and it formed a weakness in the intricate laws that kept the universe balanced.
A chance for them to be broken once more would appear, and the results could never have been expected.
The night sky was similar to an inkwell, its vast depths broken by the light of countless stars and a moon that had long since been shattered. The same celestial orbs cast their gentle light, which danced atop the dew covered grass that swayed gently in the night breeze. It was peaceful, and peace was indeed a rarity on the chaotic surface of Remnant.
So rare, in fact, that it was little surprise when a siren began to wail its warning out to any who would listen.
Little time had passed before the roar of beasts rose to meet the screaming cry of the siren, and soon enough, the cries of men and women were added to the evening cacophony. Figures ran about, dashing from their brick and wooden homes with whatever possessions they could carry in their arms. The braver of the bunch took to arms, ready to defend their homes alongside the local militia from any oncoming threat.
Amongst these brave folk was a boy, fifteen years of age with nothing but an ancient blade in his hands and an equally ancient sheath at his hip.
He was a solid 5'8" with short but messy blonde hair. He wore a black hoodie covered by an ivory chest piece and pauldrons of a similar color. His jeans were lightly torn around the cuffs, and his knees were padded. He deep blue eyes were wide with fear, but if one were to peer into their depths they would find a glint of determination.
The muttering that was making its way through the gathered men was abruptly silenced as a loud thud rang out. Looking to the source revealed a massive dent in the city's walls.
Thud
The grips on their weapons tightened, a few began to sweat.
Thud
The metal started to shriek as it tore slightly in the middle, the snarling maws beginning to peak through.
Thud
With a roar, the massive, ape-like form of the Beringal tore open the cracked walls. The men gathered met this roar, and thus the horde of Grimm tore into the town.
Grimm.
The anathema of sentient life on Remnant. They took all sorts of forms, and this horde was no different as the ebon forms of twisted wolves, stags, bears and the lone giant gorilla poured through the gap. The men charged forth, and the ground was soon bathed in red blood and black ichor that dissipated into a horrid smog.
The fight itself was swift, as most battles tend to be, yet for those in its midst it felt like hours. Including one Jaune Arc. He sidestepped the lunging form of a Beowolf, which slashed deep into his side as it passed. He gasped through grit teeth, and using muscles that screamed in protest, drove his blade deep into the beast's foul hide. As it fell to the ground, its legs lacked the strength to catch it, and its form slumped down as it began to fade. Jaune was euphoric, reveling in his first Grimm kill, yet his enemies gave no quarter.
The claws that raked across his back was critical evidence towards that point.
The force of the blow sent him tumbling to the side and onto his injured back. He looked up to see a massive bear faunus named Winnie seemingly rend the Beowolf that injured him in two with his bare (heh) hands. Glancing further, he saw the Beringal from earlier being forced into a defensive position as some of the local huntsmen tore into it with their mechashift weapon. Finally he looked over to the center of town, where the untrained men, women, children, and elderly were hidden. The faces of the townsfolk pressed against the glass made his heart warm, knowing they were safe.
That is until he caught a glimpse of white in the same direction. Focusing in on the color, he hoped his eyes deceived him but his heart knew otherwise.
A massive, bear like Grimm was making its way towards the town hall. Fear was clearly expressed on the faces he could see through the buildings windows, and it was also clear that the Ursa Major currently headed over was relishing in the taste.
Like hell it's getting any closer!
He forced his screaming muscles, aching side, and bleeding back to move, gripping the pommel of his ancient weapon like a vice. The clashing forms of Grimm, faunus, and humans seemed to part in his wake, yet he paid no mind. His mind was swimming with anger and apprehension as the Ursa continued unbidden. He picked up the pace, his breath labored and determination reflecting clear off his eyes. He roared, a deep, echoing bellow that would have surprised even him had he cared enough to notice.
The Ursa turned its head only for the blade of the young knight's ancestors to slam into its face, cutting deep. It reared back and let loose a roar of its own, and Jaune used the time to get in between it and the Town Hall. Its red eyes, filled with hate, met the swirling, blue pools of the young Arc's from its heightened position, and it fell harshly onto its front paws.
The tension was building, and the cries/cheers of those inside the building were muffled by the blood pounding in his ears. It began to pace slowly, sizing up the young boy in front of it while said boy did the same. Finally, it let out a seemingly amused huff, and began to charge forth.
Jaune held his ground, knowing full well that if he dodged, it would charge past and through the Town Hall.
Blade met bone as Jaune slashed at the Ursa's form, clanging against the hard bone covering its face. It kept its charge, and Jaune's feet dug deep trenches into the ground until they finally ground to a halt. Jaune grunted and he swore the sword in his hands groaned under the stress. His palms were bleeding slightly, and blood was drawn from his bit lip as the Ursa tried to force its way forward. Jaune threw a kick at its left front leg, causing it to buckle slightly. He used the momentary lapse in pressure to withdraw his blade and slash into its knee.
The blade dug deep, drawing a mighty roar from the depths of the beast's chest. Jaune matched it with his own, the depth of which still hadn't been recognized with its owner. The Grimm brought its weight upon the boy once more, and suddenly the blade in its leg did something that surprised both combatants.
It snapped off the handle.
Both combatants froze, staring at the bladeless handle that was in the young boys hand. Time seemed to have frozen as the sounds of combat had gone silent, and the cries from inside too had gone silent.
Oh fu-
Jaune was not give time to finish the thought before the Ursa swiped at the boy, and a sickening pop followed by a wet tearing sound seemed to echo out. His body was flung onto the doorstep of the building, and the Ursa seemed to huff in amusement before it approached.
It never had time to regret it.
Seemingly from nowhere, a gray scythe separated its head from its shoulders. The weapon's owner landed upon the fading corpse hard enough to bury it partially into the ground. His red cape fluttered in the wind as he grimaced at the sight of the kid's corpse. The same kid that had been doing his job for him.
Just my luck to show up this late.
He shook his head, hopping out of the small crater he made and began to walk away. He had to see if there were any more survivors outside of those holed up in the town hall. As he made to move further away, a very wet cough drew his attention back to the kid as his red eyes widened.
The kid rolled onto his back, his torn hoodie covering his face as his body was wracked with wheezes. The grizzeled Huntsman wasted no time in moving over to the boys side, swiftly taking his cape off his shoulders and around the boy. He put a couple fingers to his wrist, finding his pulse to be dangerously low, and with naught but the slightest hesitation, placed his hand on the kid's chest and let whatever came to mind spill forth, in an effort to release his soul.
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become the embodiment of perseverance and strength to rise above all. Infinite in patience and unhindered by death, I release your soul, and by my hand, guide thee."
He blinked at the words, storing them for later. He watched as the kid's aura flared a bright white tinged with yellow. The boy gasped, lurching forward slightly as he failed to breathe. Before the Huntsman could do anything, he crashed back down a twitching mess before suddenly stopping. It was freaky to say the least, and the older man hesitantly checked his pulse again.
Nothing.
Just my fucking lu-
The boy lurched forward, and the pieces of his hoodie that had been covering his face coming loose and falling off his face.
The sight almost made him vomit.
His bottom jaw was completely removed, and several gashes ran down his throat. The claw marks on his side dug deep, as did the ones on his back. His upper lip was tinged blue, his eyes bloodshot and his breathing labored. The older Huntsman averted his gaze, only for it to land on the missing bottom jaw. Hesitantly, he picked it up and held out to the kid.
Jaune was still in some sort of shock. He remembered being hit by the Ursa, and the blinding pain in his face had almost knocked him out. He sort of remembered the older huntsman that was now crouched next to him saying some words.
Now though?
Now he could feel almost nothing.
He could not feel the pain he knew he should be feeling. He didn't feel the exhaustion he knew he should be feeling as well. He just felt… numb as the older man held out his bottom jaw.
His eyes widened.
HIS WHAT!?
He brought a hand to his face only to recoil at the feeling of his tongue slapping against his hand before he made in near his face. Tentatively, he reached out and grasped his… jaw. Suddenly, he felt the massive urge to put it back into place.
So he did.
The result was… unexpected to say the least.
The older man saw, and Jaune felt, muscles burst from where his jaw was severed, reattaching the severed piece of anatomy to its rightful spot. He moved his jaw a bit, seeing if it was well within working condition before he acted on the same feeling in his back and side.
The result was the same as muscles sprung forth and sewed the two ends of each gash back together.
He slowly stood up, stumbling a bit as he now felt a little tired. The Huntsman jumped up as well, hesitantly assisting the kid in standing. Discreetly, he felt for a pulse again.
Nothing.
Nada. Zilch. Absolute silence.
It freaked him out, to say the least, and he wasn't even sure if the kid was breathing still. Yet here the kid was. Walking towards the hole in the wall as everyone else made their way over-
Wait, what?
He did a double take as he realized that the kid had started walking towards the breach in the wall. Distinctly away from the direction of safety.
"Hey kid, the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Leaving." The answer was short, to the point, yet it carried an untold grief and a bundle well deserved melodrama that he decidedly did NOT want to try and unravel here of all places. So he went with option numero dos.
"A'ight. I can respect that," The kid seemed a bit downcast at the response, but he was far from finished. "So why not come with me?"
The kid stumbled, and not because of the old bird's semblance.
"What?" He seemed extremely confused, rightfully so, yet he could see a hint of hope somewhere in those bloodshot eyes. "You want a dead guy with you?"
"Way I see it, you're walking, talking, and even though the lack of a heartbeat is a little concerning," Jaune frantically put a hand to his neck before slumping over again. "but you've got a knack for saving people." He cupped his chin for a few seconds before snapping in realization. "What did you want to be before this?"
"I wanted to be a Huntsman," A forlorn smile adorned his features, and it was only slightly marred by the blue lips. "It's why I came here, was going to pass through Vale to get to Patch. To try and attend Signal."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but they won't be accepting for a long while, and applicants probably have to have a pulse in order to enter," Jaune was about to go into another depression, but was interrupted before he could get very far. "Which is why you should come with me. Allow me to introduce myself," He bowed low, comically so, and he had a smug smirk on his face.
"Qrow Branwen, best Huntsman currently active and the world's best uncle, and I am offering take you on a trip around the globe. For training, of course."
Jaune was floored, and he staggered back a bit. The best active huntsman? He couldn't prove it, but he didn't think many were strong enough to even dare make the claim. Not only that, but his original plan was now bust. So he met Qrow's smirk with a grin of his own, holding out a hand.
"The name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls of the tongue. Ladies love it!"
Say hello to this monstrosity. I don't own crap, obviously, and I hoped you enjoyed. I know my other stories haven't been touched, and I'll try to get to them as soon as I get past my roadblock with them. Until then, I'll see you around!