Campfire Stories
Chapter 1: Running the Marathon
Something peculiar that Jaune had come to realize in his travels was that the forests his team encountered always seemed to grow louder at night rather than silent. There was the chorus of crickets chirping that continually rung in his ears, accompanied by the occasional "Hoot" of an owl or some rustling brush from a nocturnal mammal.
He found it comforting though. Silence always made him feel uneasy and with his teammates sound asleep, the forest's lullaby had become his only form of companionship for the night.
"I just had to be the first one on watch." Jaune muttered, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
The forest that team RNJR was currently traveling through was said to have less active populations of Grimm in the area. Even still, the team had decided to remain cautious, choosing to sleep in shifts every night until they had reached the next town over.
Jaune casted a quick glance behind him at his friends a few yards away. He couldn't help but smirk at seeing how Ren and Nora, who had lain down a comfortable distance apart, had tossed and turned in their sleeping bags until they were almost right beside each other. Meanwhile, Ruby was lying opposite of them and Jaune could hear light snoring coming from her sleeping bag.
He turned his attention back towards the campfire in front of him. The brightness had begun to die down, so Jaune motioned to throw in more logs. The weakening flames, having been granted this new fuel, returned to life with flaring passion.
However, this sense of renewed energy was definitely not passed on to Jaune as he continued to yawn and rub his eyes.
"Just need to last a little bit longer. Maybe if I keep myself busy with something…" He muttered to himself.
He looked at Crocea Mors resting beside him. Thanks to repeated battles with the Grimm and his "training sessions" added on top of that, the sword and shield combo had become littered with stains and scratches.
"Always remember Jaune, your weapons are more than mere tools. In the heat of battle, they are your lifeline. In order to win, you must have complete faith in their ability to bring you victory. That's why…"
Jaune began to hear a familiar girl's voice in his ear. He turned his head and saw her…. saw Pyrrha, kneeling over him where he sat, a warm smile on her face, as if it were only natural for her to be there. Behind her, Jaune noticed the night sky that hung above the forest tree tops had suddenly been replaced by the familiar roof and windows of Beacon Academy.
Now finding himself sitting inside the locker room behind the school's combat arena, Jaune was preparing for his class's sparring session. Professor Goodwitch had specifically chosen him for the first matchup of the day.
From the moment Jaune entered the room, he became struck with an overbearing sense of nervousness. It was the same kind of feeling that had plagued him for most of his life, the struggle of trying to live up to other people's expectations.
As he began to put on his armor and grab his weapons, Jaune began to wonder if being repeatedly called out in class like this was meant to be a tactic for bolstering his self-confidence and success, or just a simple means of putting pressure on his fellow classmates to do better with an early showcase of what a "poor performance" looks like. Knowing the calculating nature of Professor Goodwitch, it was likely that both could be the desired intention.
These thoughts were tearing apart his already weakening resolve. That is, until Pyrrha showed up at the last minute wanting to speak with him. So, while Jaune waited for the signal to leave, Pyrrha offered her leader some advice. He remembered this talk all too well.
"That's why it's important that you always keep up with the maintenance of your weapon. That's the secret to wining in battle." Pyrrha continued.
"Wait…that's it? What about all the swordsmanship training we've been doing?" Jaune questioned back.
"You're not going to say anything about how to keep a solid stance or where to focus my strikes? Just maintaining my weapon?"
"Jaune, those other things aren't the problem. You've made remarkable progress in your lessons so far and you've become quite capable. It's just…" Pyrrha hesitated before she continued.
"I've noticed how you always seem to slack a bit in weapons class. Whenever we perform routine maintenance, all of our classmates will get right to business. But you don't. You always seem distracted by something."
Jaune listened to Pyrrha's concerns, fully realizing what she was referring to. It was true. He didn't put as much effort into the class as he probably should. However, his reason for that was simple enough. All of his friends' weapons were incredibly complex. From a hammer-grenade launcher to shotgun gun-chucks, they were all intricate and amazing.
And what did Jaune have by comparison? A Sword and a Shield. That was it. No hidden guns. No complex transformation. Just a sword and shield.
He never had to bother with repairing and replacing countless gears and mechanisms or keeping stock of various dust round ammunition. At most, all he could do was put his sword to the grindstone and apply a little polish to his shield.
In his mind, he didn't see the point in keeping up with such a dull procedure on a near daily basis. Whenever he tried in class, all it seemed to do for Jaune was remind him of his own "plainness". Crocea Mors was what it was and it would never be anything more. Just like Jaune Arc. So much for the family legacy.
"I just don't see the point in it Pyrrha. It's not like it changes anything."
At least…that's what he wanted to say. But instead, he went with…
"It's probably because I'm just tired you know? Weapon's training is always held at the end of the day so I tend to go in and out." Jaune said jokingly.
"Jaune," Pyrrha called his name, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"You know you can tell me anything. We are partners after all." Pyrrha said lightly.
Having seen through his poor excuses, Jaune couldn't help but smile bitterly. No matter how much he tried to keep his emotions in the dark at times, Pyrrha always had him figured out. She really was a true friend to him.
"Does it really make that big a difference Pyrrha? If my sword is a little sharper or my shield is a little shiny? Because if I'm the one using them, then there's no point in any of it!" He finally blurted out.
Pyrrha widened her eyes at Jaune's sudden exclamation before briefly closing them and uttered…
"Why are you having doubts about yourself again Jaune? You've made incredible progress in our training and-''
"I know that I've come a long way Pyrrha, but I look at you and everyone else and I just feel like it's not enough." Jaune cut in.
"When we all came to Beacon, you guys started out so far ahead of me, It's like I had to sprint just to keep you in my sights. And every day, you guys are just making more progress while I'm helplessly playing catchup in the race. I think I'm just…. getting tired Pyrrha." Jaune had finally said what was weighing down his heart all this time. Seeing the look of concern on her face, Jaune's posture began to shrivel up before her.
Pyrrha, who listened quietly to Jaune's earnest feelings, allowed a few moments of silence to pass before she responded.
"But you know Jaune, the fact that you see yourself losing in a race to become stronger means that you've already made a wrong assumption." She stated simply.
"Huh, what do you mean?" Jaune couldn't help but turn his head at her puzzling statement.
As Pyrrha's smile slowly returned to her lips, she continued, "The path to gaining strength was never a race to be won, It's a marathon."
A marathon? Jaune was slowly getting confused by her words and it showed on his expression. But before he began to feel completely lost, Pyrrha explained further.
"You see, unlike a race which focuses on speed, Marathons are all about endurance. And that's exactly how strength is gained. Not by trying to expend your energy all at once, but by pacing yourself overtime." She said.
Slowly but surely, Jaune was beginning to understand what she was getting at. If he truly wanted to become stronger, then he couldn't rush the process of it. No matter how agonizingly long it might take.
"But you said that I made great progress in my training so far right? So why does it feel like barely anything has changed?" He asked her.
"Well, think about it. When you train to run a marathon, your speed isn't the only factor you have to consider. Everything from your initial starting placement to the environment around you will become variables that shape how you perform. That's why athletes will often train in a multitude of ways to prepare themselves. You see-"
"Pyrrha, have you actually ran marathons before?" He suddenly thought. This bizarre idea slowly began to grow in the back of Jaune's mind as he listened to the increasing depth of her analogy. Given just how naturally athletic Pyrrha was, Jaune supposed it wasn't impossible to believe in and the reality of such wouldn't have surprised him in the least. But all that aside, Jaune continued to listen to her with open ears.
"When you train to run a marathon, you're actually training in a multitude of ways. You have to focus on everything from your pacing to what you eat in order to gain the best results. If you neglect even a single aspect of your routine, then you could end up vastly underperforming when the time comes." She concluded.
"I see. So if we think of my training like I'm training for a marathon, then our sparring sessions could only be considered one aspect of it right? Jaune asked.
"Your exactly right." Pyrrha replied bubbly.
It made perfect sense then. Jaune could learn a thousand different ways to swing a sword, but if he ended up neglecting everything else about his Huntsman training, then he was the one setting himself up for failure. In other words, the maintenance of his weapon really was just as important as learning how to use it.
But even still...
"It's not like a little polish is going to make Crocea Mors any stronger than it is right now. No matter what I do, I just can't see—''
"You don't see how such a simple thing can make a huge difference in the long run?" Pyrrha finished his sentence for him.
Jaune was stunned by how effectively Pyrrha could read his mind sometimes and only nodded in response.
"Jaune, a weapon is defined by its owner above all else. When you work with it constantly, even by doing the simplest of things, you establish a connection to it. And that bond is far more important than any abilities you or it might possess on its own." She exclaimed.
She was absolutely right. Jaune knew it in his heart. Having been granted this amazing sense of clarity, he began to feel a renewed flame of confidence spark within him, driving away the shadows of lingering doubt.
Lowering his gaze to the sword and shield that occupied his hands, Jaune asked himself: "What is my connection to Crocea Mors?" He thought carefully.
Obviously, it was the prime symbol of his family's history. All his life, Jaune had heard the stories of his forefathers' heroic exploits passed down through the generations. All he wanted in this world was to be worthy of that lineage.
However, upon seeing the reflection of his own blue eyes being casted off the side of his sword, Jaune made the realization.
From the time he first picked up Crocea Mors, no, from the time he was first born, Jaune had become a part of that legendary legacy. It was this ludicrous notion that he had to "prove himself" in order to feel like part of his own family that was holding him back.
Jaune had come to Beacon illegally and he would always feel a sense of shame in that regard. But if anything the reality of the present has taught him is true, it's that he was still here because of his own efforts, not his family's.
Ozpin made him the team leader of JNPR because he saw something in him. Ruby encouraged him to believe in himself because she saw something in him. Even though he was weaker, his friends trusted and respected him as their leader because they saw something in him.
Now, Jaune was beginning to think that he saw it too.
Standing up firmly now, Jaune looked back at Pyrrha with a genuine smile.
"Thanks Pyrrha, I'm feeling a lot better know. You're the best." He said cheerily.
"Oh… ah, i—it was nothing at all! I'm glad I could help you." She replied quickly.
Jaune noticed that her cheeks were beginning to look a little flushed, but before he could ask her if she was starting to feel sick for some reason, the buzzer sounded, alerting the two of them that it was time for Jaune's match.
"Well, I guess I'd better get out there." He stated.
He began to head for the exit, but before that, he heard her speak.
"Hey Jaune," Pyrrha seemed to fiddle with her fingers, hesitating to continue before—
"Good luck out there." She stated simply.
Jaune only gave her a thumbs up in response before he pushed the brown double doors wide open and went willfully into the arena's center stage.