"You know what else is great? Me, Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."
"Yeah, yeah. So, Weiss, couldn't help but overhear your fondness for me the other day."
"Don't worry! No need to be embarrassed."
"So! Been hearin' rumors about teams! I was thinking you and me would make a good one. What do you say?"
"You don't say. Well, hotstuff, play your cards right and maybe you could join up with the winning team."
Weiss Schnee had had enough, and shoved her way between her future partner and this pest who was standing in the way of greatness. "Jaune, is it? Do you have any idea who you are talking to?"
"Not in the slightest, Snow Angel."
Dust, she wanted to stab him in the face. "This is Pyrrha." Normally she would have used the champion's full name, but in this case she felt that gave more credit to Pyrrha's achievements if she implied that only her given name should be necessary to identify her. "Pyrrha graduated top of her class at Sanctum."
"Never heard of it. But that's cool. Which kingdom?"
Ugh, fine, he's a local rube. "She's from Mistral, where she won the Regional Tournament four times in a row. A new record!"
"Neat. I haven't been able to watch any tournaments; I'll have to look her up."
Out of ideas and too committed to her course, Weiss defaulted to a final resort she would later regret as a childish tantrum. Shaking her fists up and down, she growled, "She's on the front of every Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes box!"
At Beacon Cliff, overlooking the Emerald Forest, Ozpin asked the assembled initiates, "Are there any questions?"
No one spoke up.
"Good. Now, take your positions."
Pyrrha hurtled through the air, her shield Akouo held before her, as she flew without control towards large, solid tree branches at highway speeds. Yet like an impassive statue, she did not flinch and her arm held firm as she impacted, and it was the first branch, the second branch, and the third branch that broke against her. Only after the third did she move, having spotted a suitable landing spot on the fourth branch which looked like it would not break against her reduced momentum. Rolling over her shoulder and back to kill more speed, Pyrrha smoothly came back up to her feet, her sword Milo fluidly shifting into its sniper rifle form as she brought the scope up to her eye and scanned the skies.
She spotted him descending from the sky exactly as she had, sword held back behind him as he braced his shield ahead of him to clear his path. Unlike her though, with each impact his whole body flashed with yellow-white light. She lost sight of him as he vanished into the foliage of a tree, from which exploded a light so bright it blinded the eye white like the sun at the same time that the entire tree shook. This was followed by a second flash from below the tree-line.
His landing spot confirmed, the young woman leapt down from her tree in pursuit.
He was gone by the time she arrived, as expected, and she lacked the woodcraft to notice any tracks he might have left, so she oriented herself to the North, hoped that his sense of direction was at least as good as all of the other people who didn't manipulate Polarity, and guessed what his most likely path would be.
Her first clue was the sharp crack of gunshots. As she raced closer, her heart soared to hear Jaune's human voice raised alone in defiance against the howls of beowolves.
When she came upon him, he was in the middle of whipping his shield around to smash a Grimm that tried to flank him while his sword was stuck in its packmate's skull. There was the sound of a Dust shell discharging, and the shield accelerated midswing. The strike left the Grimm's head flopping limply along its back; the bones of its neck completely disintegrated, and its head deformed.
Without hesitation, Jaune adjusted the edge of his shield so that it pointed at another Grimm. The broad, outer side of the circular shield was facing Pyrrha, allowing her to watch the paired yellow arcs of the young man's symbol turn over as the embossed face wheeled around 180 degrees. Then a plume of gunfire shot out, and the charging beowolf's head exploded from the shell landing dead center in its gaping mouth.
Jaune Arc danced; he used the recoil of the shot to pivot on one leg, stylishly sweeping his other across the ground as he bowed, neatly ducking under the swing of the last beowolf. His sword came up and stabbed it in the gut. The sweeping foot became Jaune's foundation as he stepped forward, brought his formerly pivoting up leg up, and lashed out with a kick that shoved the dead monster off of his blade.
He looked up, blinking, at the sound of her applause.
She tried to give him her best winning smile. "Do you... have any spots left on your team?"
He blushed, and scatched his head with his sword hand. "Aw, geez. How could I say 'no'? But why'd you pick me? You could have walked right on by and chosen anyone else, especially after that performance."
She frowned. "What was wrong with your performance?"
"Uh, nothing!" he said too quickly.
"Well, 'nothing' was wrong with it," the young woman said firmly. "You handled yourself well. I felt that dance step was a nice touch."
"Aw, man, you saw that? My uncle was always grilling me about getting too fancy in battle, but when you grow up dancing with seven sisters, it's hard to escape the habits, you know?"
"I don't think you need to worry about it. If it's what works best for you, then it works, right? And I liked it. You're a dancer then?"
"That's right!" he said, smiling with happy confidence, which smoothly shifted into that silly persona of baseless arrogance he'd been trying to use to win over Weiss Schnee. "If you like, I could find us a dance floor when we get back. Maybe teach you a few moves."
She grinned. "I'd like that."
His persona shattered in surprise, as though he hadn't expected that to work and didn't have any idea what to do now that it had.
Her grin became a victorious smirk.
