Oneshot

Never Go Back

"Rapier wasps again?" The sister sighed in a bemused fashion, setting her instruments down to attend to the silly boy.

"I got one this time," Was a sullen response as the kid messed with the pebbles at his feet, "The others I missed by this much."

The eldest smiled at the gap that her brother showed her with his two outstretched hands. A good foot and a half of empty space. Jaune, always the rash, eager warrior, never the patient one. Hopefully he would grow out of this rampant recklessness, this desperate search for glory.

"I told you, you swing too quickly. You need to let them come a bit closer. Now put that branch down and let me see."

Rapier wasps had a nasty habit of hunting prey. They first went for the legs with their barbed, venomous stingers and sharp incisors, in hopes of bringing the animal down to its knees so that the rest of the swarm could attack the face and ultimately, the neck. Dangerous to anyone foolish to under-estimate their suicidal aggressiveness. There were some bites and some pricks that she could see through the tears in Jaune's pants, but after so many times trying to take out the creatures, her little brother had gotten adept at outrunning the pesky flies.

"Now Jauney, there is no need to go after an entire nest," She lectured, patting him on the back to turn him back around, "You could just ask one of your sisters if you wanted to practice your swordsmanship." She finished with a sly grin.

"Don't want to. I almost had them, anyways." His tone was defensive and self-conscious about his defeat.

"The third time this week you've almost triumphed over those wasps."

"Whatever. What are you painting?"

"Do you like it?" She said sweetly, taking a fresh look on her work sitting on the easel, it was a dark pond standing out from a misty, bright green field.

"Yeah, its pretty cool, but purple ponds? Why the color?"

"You've never been to the Royal Ponds, have you?"

"No."

"Well, in Mistral, you can get ponds like these. Like dye mixed with water. The Royal Ponds are famous for their beauty, splotches of purple, cyan, pink, red... A perfect place to take a date, little brother."

"Is it drinkable?" Jaune asked, oblivious to her even larger, more mischievous grin. She paused for a moment, reminiscing.

"Yes, one of my friends drank from one of them. I think his tongue was stained for a day though! We and the townspeople sure had a laugh about that. They have… traditions, about those ponds…. boy, those academy days were such a rush.."

"Yeah, yeah, cool stuff, good times..." Jaune replied, thinking of things that she didn't know about. It got her curious.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Come on now, silly."

"Its nothing, honest." The sandy-haired kid dodged, avoiding his sister's prying eyes.

"And I'm curious!"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I'm sure I would."

"Its stupid."

"No, it certainly isn't."

The blue eyes looked so guilty when he spilled the beans.

"It's my thirteenth birthday in a week."

"Oh!" Was all she could say, awkwardly realizing she had forgotten. "Well that's to be expected, Jaune. You know how fast you've been growing? I barely recognize you each time I stop by."

"Yeah, but that's the time for the schools, isn't it? The time for me to make my emblem, my weapons..."

"Yes, yes, so it is."

"I'm just not sure what I want for an emblem. For a weapon, either."

"You've done… well in your education," his sister assured him, careful with her words, "I'm sure you'll know just what to think of."

"Mm." Was all Jaune could really say, but then he started up again, "Yeah... you know… Could you maybe… Since you're so good at painting…"

A breeze passed through the two of them, carrying the scent of trees and the wild.

"Help me? With my emblem?"

She smiled sadly, "Not allowed, you know this. A person's emblem is their own: an expression of individuality. It's something you create on your lonesome."

"But c'mon! I want something cool."

"Then start sketching!" Was her happy response, turning back to her work and assessing her artistic options.

"Surely you have some sketch ideas from your thirteenth birthday. Could I take a look at those?"

She chuckled and turned around sharply.

"You want to plagiarize?!"

"Hey hey! Just for inspiration!"

The painter laughed at Jaune's quick-witted response. Some things she hoped would never change, especially Jaune's dodgy quick-wittedness.

His shoulders sagged slightly, as he walked past her and towards the crest of the hill.

"Well, I want something cool, you know, but at the same time it's never going to see the light, right? Everyone just sees the our family emblem. Big motivation killer. Lots of people down in town already have such cool emblems… Everyone knows what I'm going to be wearing."

"The point of an emblem isn't to look cool, now is it? And others have family crests."

"Yeah, yeah... But they do look cool in the end, and other family crests carry weight, like those Mantle folk. And hey… aren't I plagiarizing if I just stick to the family crest?"

"It's not the family crest, dummy. Didn't d-"

She caught herself.

"Didn't mom tell you the story behind it?"

"Obviously not." Jaune retorted with a huff.

The eldest rolled her eyes and set her tools to the side, standing up to point look over the landscape before them.

"The very beginning of our family is our heritage, you know. Passed down from one generation to the next, a family fairy tale of sorts. In the days of darkness, before the kingdoms created, before any recorded war. It was an age of survival and chaos, and it is said that our oldest ancestor was a warrior in a village."

She pointed to an outcrop of trees that stood a couple miles north of the town.

"Our father always said that the village was situated there, but I'm not too keen on that. It could have been halfway to Mistral for all I know, from how our family's got around."

Jaune stood by, idle and listening.

"Back then, emblems were rarities. They were often used to distinguish tribes, clans, villages. And in those times, emblems were created by an elder, an artist, or even a shaman or healer. They were assigned and earned, not granted automatically at a certain point of time. In our ancestor's group, there was one such person. Apparently she could not conceive, or was a widow, or something. She had no children, is what I mean."

"Was she a season?" Jaune asked sarcastically, referring to the famous myth. His older sister could only chuckle in disagreement.

"No, you dolt. Whatever it was, she was not a warrior like the rest of the villagers, and so was kept within the circle of elders. It was a harsh winter, and the Grimm came out in force. Their numbers needed to be thinned for the safety of the village and the future of the hunting grounds, as usual, but the excursion went dreadfully wrong. Many warriors died, and by the time they had finished the sun had already set. Back then…"

"Back then that was death sentence, right?"

"Yes. Darkness lets the Grimm run wild. But it was the village that the Grimm attacked, not the battle-weary warriors. A cruel twist of fate. By the time they had arrived home, many had already been consumed, both child and senior. But not all, you see, the girl and the elders took what arms they had and resisted every step of the siege. It was because of her bravery in the face of death that your ancestor, Martel, survived, along with a handful of other youth, even when so many died. That is why we wear her emblem, to honor the sacrifice."

"Yeah, and that he was hated on, everyone saying that he 'stole her glory' and all of that by using her emblem. I remember now."

"You do?"

"So what's the reason behind making my own emblem if it's just going to be outshone by some lady that saved the day some countless eons ago?"

"That's not the point, Jauney." His sister sighed, bringing out her claymore from its scabbard and tapping it on her shoulder-plate. Both shone with the white-gold of the double arc, almost invisible in the glint of the sun.

"The point is that the girl saved lives, lives that had their own dreams and aspirations. Martel, our ancestor, wore a different emblem, came from a different home, but she still died in the defense of him and his future, no matter how uncertain or bleak it could have been. Your emblem is your own, but what we wear on the outside is a promise that we will be true to ourselves, true to our beliefs and our honor, so that her death was not in vain. This doesn't have any special message to other people. It holds meaning to its wearer... I can't believe you've forgotten all of this!"

"Hey, there are a lot of 'ancestor stories', alright? I must've fallen asleep by the time dad got to it."

"Whatever. Now you know why it's so important." She replied, staring down at the grass and the pebbles.

"Someday, Jaune, people will see your own emblem: The one you make yourself. When that time comes, whatever the situation, it will define you as a hunter. As a person. Remember that."

Jaune took the knowledge solemnly, his azure eyes almost sparking at the mention of the word hunter. His irises were looking squarely at the cluster of trees that supposedly held the relics of his ancestry.

"I will, sis. Promise."

"You really going to promise that?" She laughed, returning her sword back into its scabbard.

"Uh, yeah! What, you think I don't do good on my promises?"

"I would never imply that, Jaune. I know how seriously you take our ten thousand family mottos."

"There are only 12, give or take. I'll be off to the house, then. The art's looking really good!"

"Thanks!"

Jaune left her on the hilltop, making his way down to home, while the eldest sister of the Arc family stared out into the distance in thought. She thought of her partner, of her team, of her family, of her mother.

Grimm thoughts.

She out a sigh, suddenly morose with the weight of the world, wondering just what mark Jaune would make.

End