Author's note:

Important news! I have a discord! It's a Naruto crossover themed discord, and the code is 4RDsK9J. Feel free to join.

The chapter is done, and this should be giving you a more reasonable expectation from this story. The first chapter doesn't have much, but this one certainly does. Keep in mind to keep touch on my profile if you're interested in the progression of my other stories!

On another note, the reviewers that are complaining about me not working on other projects, please stop. My reading story has been adopted by Dylan Millwood, so it isn't something that I'm working on anymore. The rewrite for "Son of Salem", known as "Progeny" is being worked on and should be out by mid—March. My goal is to update that next.

I'd also like to give a shoutout to greenflamesburn. He's in the discord, and he had an idea similar to mine. He published a Fate and RWBY crossover with a similar premise. He's newer at this and you should go check it out.

Today was going to be a good day.

It was one of those gut-feelings, something that you just knew. At least, this had been the case for Jaune Arc when he had awoken.

He sat up in his bed, stretching his back and cracking his neck, a small smile beginning to form. He might've had three roommates now, but this was nowhere near as noisy as his home.

Jaune was sure it had something to do with his sisters—or in this case, the lack thereof. The first light of dawn shone through the window in front of the single desk in the room; the sounds of birds chirping in the background created a distinct, but rather pleasing melody.

But even in the glow of morning, Jaune felt… off. It was hard to place a finger on, but something was unsettling him. His eyes closed and a shiver ran up his spine; goosebumps began to rise on his skin and a chill frosted the room.

What was that? What was bothering him so much? The sound of birds became more and more prevalent to his ears; all other static fell into the background—the single noise building up tension, drawing his attention, demanding it in a way that screamed, 'look at me!'

Suddenly, it became very hard to breathe.

The first thing that came to mind was a river. The stormy waters broke over him, knocking him around, pushing his head under the surface.

Drowning.

Further down and down he went, body heavy, breathing brisk. He felt so attentive, so alert, but he didn't know why. He didn't know why he was feeling this way, didn't know why his entire body felt coiled and tight—

(Birds chirping, birds chirping, birds chirping—why couldn't they shut up!?)

—and then he was on the ground, his back bent at an awkward angle, his head having hit the carpeted floor. He was dazed, but after his breathing steadied he was able to figure out what had happened.

Well… he hadn't expected that.

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, making sure that he hadn't awakened any of his teammates.

Standing up, attempting to make no noise, Jaune made his way towards the bathroom. Not a single member of his team was awake yet, which was good. He didn't want to disturb any of them. Jaune had no desire to pester anyone and desired even less for his friends to learn about his… breakdown.

He grabbed his clothing from the chest of drawers, and his hand shook uncontrollably as he reached to pull on the door handle. Only one thing was on his mind.

What the hell was that?

He wanted to question it, wanted to lose control, but he couldn't. It was almost as if something was stopping him—forcing him to remain calm through the situation even though he shouldn't have been able to.

His emotions came reined in, his face became calm, and nothing he did betrayed what he felt. But he knew, deep down inside he knew what he was feeling, knew his insecurities, knew the problems that could arise.

Those thoughts terrified him in a way that he hadn't know possible.

His father had not offered him much advice throughout his life. The man hadn't wanted Jaune to become a hunter, and now he had come to respect that decision.

He had never felt so uncertain. He opened the door, and even as he kept moving, kept going, he could still feel his trepidation, his reluctance, his overall fear of the current situation. Jaune walked into the bathroom, his thoughts on the future and the way that it headed; he worried, of that there was no doubt, and the possible anxiety attack that he had moments prior wasn't helping in the slightest.

Jaune closed the door and tried to resolve himself; he wanted to push forward and enjoy this day. The start had been rough, but hey, that was only a small drop in the bucket. He still had an entire day to go through.

Once more, wise words of his father struck a chord in his mind, something that the man had told him time and time again.

'Honestly son, what's the worst that could happen?'

Today was a terrible day.

Jaune Arc had known this was going to happen. From the very start he had known that this day would devolve and become something terrible.

When he had awoken this morning he had felt as much. He remembered sitting up in bed and releasing a sigh—a sigh that sounded so dejected and forlorn that it hurt him down to his very core to remember.

Had it been raining? Jaune shook his head, looking down at his blank notepad. He couldn't remember if he was being honest. It just seemed to fit the mood. It helped that it also went hand-in-hand with his sullen disposition.

For some reason, the sound of birds seemed to relate to the rain for him. Two statues carved into a mountain face came to mind; neither of them were recognizable, but something about them called out to him, screamed at him to remember them and their relevance.

One of his hands shot into his pocket, thumbing one of the leaves that he now kept there.

It calmed him. His breathing steadied, his eyes closed, and he felt his heart-rate slow. He had walked outside after his morning… episode earlier, and found himself under one of the large oaks that they kept on campus. It had called to him, beckoned him forward, and the leaves that fell from the tree had perked his interest—drawn him in like a moth to a flame.

Even now he took comfort in these leaves. It sounded silly, but they made him feel safe. It was as if he was still at home; he could see the towering deciduous trees and smell the sap that they produced in the warm summer sun.

He had never felt as alone as he did now.

"I do sir!"

Jaune snapped to attention, drawn back to the lesson that he had been ignoring.

It wasn't the best of ideas—he could easily admit as much—but at the same time, this lesson was so drab. It was in large part due to the professor. The man rambled on and on, doing nothing more than talking about himself and his accomplishments.

It seemed that Weiss Schnee had volunteered for something. Jaune watched a smile—or what he assumed was one—pull at the Professor's lips, his thick mustache and closed eyes betraying nothing. Even from his angle in the back portion of the class, he could feel the tension and how it blanketed the room.

"Well then, let's find out. Step forward and face your opponent." The man gave a broad wave to a cage that was in a corner of the classroom, and even as Jaune glanced over he immediately became transfixed.

Angry red eyes peered out from behind bars of cold steel.

Cold sweat. Jaune's entire body began to perspire; it started with the back of his neck, but even his palms and brow fell victim.

He blinked; once, twice, three times. No longer was he in the classroom, but instead a storm drain, maybe even a sewer. His head turned downwards—an action initiated against his own volition—and peered into water that encompassed his ankles.

His body moved forward, something that he, once again, did not want to do. His hand found its way and pushed up against one of the stones that made up the wall.

He could feel it; the smooth texture of the stone, the rusted pipe that ran along the wall, but most importantly the impending sense of dread and doom—so thick and heavy that it seemed to contaminate the very air he breathed.

The scariest part was the voice. It whispered at him, drawing him in and telling him to come closer.

Then he saw it: the light at the end of the tunnel.

Never had Jaune thought that people meant that literally when they spoke of it, but here it was, staring him in the face. The brightness approached like encroaching dawn on the horizon, ensnaring Jaune in its embrace.

The light was blinding.

After he blinked, his eyes readjusted and went wide. The brilliance had diminished, the almost jarring sharpness of it fading, and in its place was one of the largest rooms Jaune had ever seen.

The ceiling spanned into infinity, going so high that he couldn't make out its end. His head turned, eyes taking in the stone and pipes, both of which seemed to conjoin into one specific location.

A large iron gate.

The stone seemed to be its building blocks and framing the side of the structure; the pipes had run inward and disappeared from view, but the gate was not so simple, not so… mundane.

It was immaculate. The inlay was crafted from wrought iron, stretching into the abyss that resided above him.

The paper that lay on the large gate attracted his eyes, drawing them in. But it wasn't the paper that he realized he was looking at, it was what he saw behind it.

Angry red eyes peered out from behind bars of cold steel.

And then it was all gone, replaced with the room that he had been in beforehand. The sewer, the dark stone, the rusted pipes, and even the beautiful inlay—all of it had felt so real, but all of it had faded away like some sort of heat-induced mirage.

The most noticeable change came in the air. It was easier to breathe now, the tension that had existed was all but gone.

His breathing was shallow, and he tried to find comfort in an odd source.

His hand clutched at one of the leaves he carried; his fingers began to rub up the spine, feeling every detail, every vein until he could practically picture it. It was if a spot in his mind had cleared away, everything else fading into the background.

There was only Jaune and the leaf. No cage, no monster, no red eyes.

He felt the energy from the fight in the woods move, surging outward, pushing away from him like a geyser.

"Chakra."

The name had all but come to him. It tasted distinct on his tongue, unlike the way such a foreign word should have sounded.

But this word wasn't foreign, he had been using it all his life. It was a part of him, much like his aura, and it screamed at him—almost if the energy had a mind of its own.

His eyes opened and he removed his hand from his pocket, a small smile gracing his face. The leaf had was no longer a singular piece. His chakra had moved through it, severing it at the spine, and breaking the leaf into two perfect halves.

"Alright, let the match begin!"

The sudden exclamation from the Professor brought Jaune's attention back to the class once again. He watched the large man swing his axe, breaking the lock.

A beast resembling a pig stalked out, its color dark, its eyes red. Another Grimm, one that Jaune recognized the professor speaking about during the lecture. A Boarbatusk, if he was remembering right.

For some reason, Jaune hated the color red.

He was sure that part of it was an eye thing, but something about the color unnerved him. It wasn't something that he'd considered before. But sitting there, looking at that thing down below, he couldn't help but think about how unnatural it seemed—how very inhuman.

Red eyes were a cursed thing; the color was only bred from hatred.

'Whenever you stare into someone's eyes, you stare into their soul.'

The words of his father came back, echoing throughout his mind, striking an odd chord that resounded heavy and hard. He thought of how he used to play the guitar. Was that an augmented chord? Perhaps a diminished?

Bah, he couldn't remember. His hand moved towards the back of his head, giving it a scratch. He supposed it didn't matter.

His eyes refocused on the color, everything else fading to static.

Red. It was all he saw, the only thing that stood out in the monochrome classroom. Jaune couldn't break his eyes away from it, away from the beast—not the battle.

Red eyes would spin, like the body of the boar in front of him—faster faster faster! They grew stronger from the hate that consumed them, the love that would turn into something unrecognizable, festering and eating away until nothing remained.

It was like delving into a deep pit; a blight so dark that there was no end, one that seemed to span into infinity.

That was the curse of hatred.

"Bravo! Bravo! It appears that we are indeed in the presence of a true huntress in training!"

Jaune shook his head, looking back at the fallout of the battle before him. Weiss kneeled next to the carcass of the Grimm, her rapier pierced through its chest, her head hung low.

Her eyes were defiant, but she wasn't fooling him, oh no… He could still hear her heavy breathing, even from this side of the classroom.

The fight was harder than she wanted to let on.

Jaune paid it no mind, opting instead to pull out another leaf. The cut came out clean, the slice happening with barely a thought.

He looked up, watching Weiss yell at Ruby and storm out of the room. All he could do was utter the first thing that came to mind.

"Sheesh, what's with her?"

Jaune Arc's screams came out muffled through his pillow.

Having run out of air, his head resurfaced and he gasped, but not long before plunging back in. Today had been absolutely abysmal; nothing short of a nightmare.

His team was out right now, getting dinner, and Jaune had opted to stay behind. He had used the excuse of not feeling well, hoping that he could get some alone time to understand what was going on.

He felt so drained. It was if all energy had left his body, exhaustion over taking him in a way that Jaune was unfamiliar with. He wanted to sit here and think. But the reality was that he couldn't, his tiredness having far passed the point of being able to analyze anything in a coherent manner.

Now that he thought about it, screaming at his pillow hadn't been his best idea.

The day hadn't been eventful after the first class. He had gone from one class to another without incident.

But this morning, that was hard to forget.

Jaune had held it in all day; he had held in all his insecurities, held in all his problems, but right now—right now he wanted to scream. His teeth gnashed and he continued to lay there, resembling some kind of slug.

He wanted to know why this was happening, wanted to know how to fix it, but at the moment all he wanted to do was sleep the day away.

He was hungry and could easily admit as much. Sleep, though—sleep sounded so much better.

All energy left him and his eyes closed, finding the realm of Morpheus.

His problems weren't going anywhere.

"This is the Hidden Leaf Village!"

Those words should have been meaningless. Jaune Arc had never heard of a Hidden Leaf Village in his entire life. Yet those words held power—more so than they should've.

Pain. Indescribable pain flooded him. It was almost as if his entire life had come crashing down around him, his heart fracturing, and his head throbbing. He had never known pain like this could exist. Faces ran through his mind, one by one; he viewed everyone that he had held near and how each of them had died.

Wait… he didn't know any of these people. The images that went through his head, the faces that he was seeing; none of these were individuals that he knew, yet he could put a name to each and every one of them.

"It seems you saved us the trouble of finding you, Uzumaki Naruto."

What the hell? Naruto Uzumaki… the guy from the vision?

Jaune Arc might have been slow—he might have been clumsy—but even he could tell what was going on right now.

Instead of watching what Naruto had accomplished like he had earlier, he was now experiencing the event through Naruto. The body was the medium, the eyes were the windows, but the emotions were a shared experience.

Is this what Naruto had felt and dealt with during that amazing fight? Were these the trials that all heroes faced?

If so, Jaune wasn't so sure he had what it would take.

"Now might not be the right time to ask a question like this, but now that I've mastered Senjutsu, I'm able to sense everyone's chakra."

Jaune's—or, rather, Naruto's—teeth clinched, his emotions surging to life before the words could even come. Even though his voice remained so calm, Jaune could feel it; he could feel the reluctance to speak—the fear of what was to come.

"Is Kakashi-sensei on a mission away from the village?"

Tsunade's silence was all the confirmation that Naruto needed. "I see," he said; his voice sounding monotone, almost like he wasn't phased.

Tsunade might not have known better, but Jaune did. He could feel everything that Naruto felt—the pain, the sorrow, but most importantly the voice that was whispering into his ear. 'Release me boy. Set me free.'

The Kyuubi no Kitsune.

A beast of the end times. The apocalyptic monolith resided within Naruto; he had held it back for his entire life, fighting against it, keeping it bound and protecting his village.

Even now the beast struggled against its cage.

The fight continued in much the same fashion as he had seen earlier. The whirling ball of death, the Rasenshuriken, and everything in between.

Throughout the battle, the portions that Jaune had missed earlier began to resonate within him. He felt like a fool now, having expected to become a hero for nothing more than fame and acknowledgment.

This was what it meant to be a hero. To throw away everything that you had, fight until you dropped, and do what was necessary—even against the pain that you felt.

The people around you would die if you didn't.

To experience things through the eyes of someone else, someone that was a hero, and live through their eyes was hard. In a situation like this, it was near impossible.

Everything in his life felt completely childish in comparison.

Jaune continued to watch, through the pain, through the suffering—to the point where Naruto lay on the ground, beaten down by the paths of Pain. It was over, he had lost, and he was now immobilized.

He was eating dirt at this point. One of the chakra rods that the paths of Pein used stabbed through his shoulder. Hinata lay in front of him, wounded and barely conscious.

Jaune didn't understand the concept of love.

He found that he was able to admit as much with ease. In that regard, he and Naruto shared something; neither of them understood love, neither of them understood intimacy.

That was why it was so much more painful.

The girl, Hinata, had given her heart to him on the battlefield. And now, she lay there in front of him, battered and bloodied.

"Why?" Naruto had asked, his eyes wide and a lack of understanding plastered across his face.

Whether he was referring to why she had declared her love or why she had taken the hit, not even he himself knew. Perhaps it was neither; perhaps it was both.

A smile crossed her face, blood pouring down her forehead, her body bashed and broken. "Because... that's my ninja way."

A heartbeat—neither spoke. Pein lifted her, through the use of his chakra, and Naruto felt his heart stop.

The Deva path rag—dolled her, throwing her upwards, dropping her onto the ground—impaling her with a rod once she landed on the earth's surface. She was dead; Jaune could tell that much.

A small breeze picked up, the wasteland that was once Konoha kicking up dirt, but not a sound was made.

Silence fell. It was if the entire world had quieted for Hinata.

Rage.

Fiery rage, hot as molten steel, bright as the midday sun.

The world grew white, the corners folding along the edges. The battlefield narrowed to a pin's breadth—narrowed on Hinata.

Naruto's subconscious—rational and sharp and sane rattled inside his mind; the cage that comprised it had begun to fall apart.

It wasn't supposed to be like this! He had failed to protect her!

His vision bled away, and the silence gave way to a primal roar.

Eyes bolted open to a dark room.

Jaune breathed. In and out, in and out.

His lungs were aflame, his heart palpitated like the beat of a hummingbird's wings, and he felt like he was underwater. What was that? What had he witnessed?

He stumbled out of bed, fumbling his way to the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. Jaune winced, the door slamming, and forced himself to remember that he wasn't at home anymore; he had teammates that were sleeping.

The lights flashed on, the water in the sink started running, and he found himself in front of the mirror. His eyes were red, bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his hair looked a mess—but other than that, everything seemed fine.

He grabbed his head, swearing under his breath. A rhythmic throbbing had begun, heavy and loud, almost like someone was striking a large drum right next to his ear.

He clutched the countertop with all he had, knuckles turning white. He stared down his reflection. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing—that, and the water that was still running.

For the second time, and probably not the last, he wondered: What the hell was that?

He grabbed a hand towel, throwing it into the sink, soaking it into the cold water. The countertop looked nice; maybe it was some sort of tile. He wasn't knowledgeable on these sorts of things.

That dream… it had felt so real.

No, he had already determined that it wasn't just a dream. The vision in the forest, what he had seen when he had almost died, the nightmare he had lived all day long. No, he knew that this was something more. The only problem was that he didn't know what that meant.

God, he wanted to scream!

He had to stop himself—one of his canine teeth found its way to his lower lip, biting down on it and halting the action before he could complete it. Too late did he realize that he had never done that before. He had, however, seen Naruto do it once or twice.

His teeth gnashed. Why the fuck was he having these dreams? It had all started in the woods with Pyrrha. She'd, she'd…

His eyes widened, his jaw went slack, and he fell back onto the toilet next to him. His legs felt numb and he couldn't do anything but stare down at his hands, the sight of them going blurry.

Was he... crying?

His hand moved up to his face. Yeah, he was crying.

So he sat there, bawling in a way that was unbecoming of a hero, but that didn't matter.

He was no hero.

His hands balled into fists. Why did this have to happen to him? Why was he the one who had to experience this!?

It wasn't fair!

'Well that's just how it goes, y'know? Life isn't always fair.'

Jaune looked up, scrubbing away the tears from his face. What was that? Who had spoken?

His eyes cleared and he focused on the person in front of him. He had hoped that his vision betrayed him.

It hadn't.

'Yo, what're moping around for?'

Blue met blue, neither blinking. Seconds faded into minutes, but Jaune couldn't speak, couldn't formulate the words that he wanted to use.

'You just gonna stare? Didn't your parents teach ya' that staring is impolite?'

Naruto Uzumaki, or at least the spectral form of him, waved his hand in front of Jaune's face, the ghost-like apparition all but transparent to Jaune's eyes.

It was an impressive sight, if Jaune was honest. Seeing the hero from the fight, the hero that he had seen through the eyes of; it felt humbling.

Even if said hero was only a remnant of who he once was.

'Oi! Are you even listening to me?!'

Jaune blinked, looking at the wavering form of Naruto in front of him. A sense of calm washed over him; calmer than he had felt all day. A smile came to his face, his hand moving to the back of his head in order to scratch it. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He was far too calm for the situation. Jaune knew that something about this wasn't normal, knew that something was inherently wrong, but it was if his mind didn't care.

Naruto blinked, his ethereal form shimmering and the white tile behind him showing strong through him.

'Ah, you're finally listening to me now!' Naruto exclaimed, a grin pulling at his lips.

What in the world?

'So, now that I've got your attention,' Naruto said, his voice coming out distorted and resembling a ghost out of a game. 'What seems to be bothering you?'

Anger replaced the calm in almost an instant. Indescribable anger filled Jaune Arc as he looked at the form of his nightmare incarnate. "Problem?" he asked, all but spitting the word. "My problem is that you've invaded my life! My problem is that I'm seeing your memories! My problem is that I don't even know what the fuck is going on!"

His voice hadn't picked up like it usually would when he became distraught; instead it had grown fiercer, more demanding, like it was cut from stone.

Naruto continued to watch him. He made no movements, but his face had become harder, more serious. 'I've done nothing. All you're doing is hiding from the reality that you're too afraid to face. You know why I'm here, you just won't admit it to yourself.'

Jaune Arc had always considered himself level-headed; he had always considered himself someone who played things safe.

In that moment Jaune Arc lost control.

His teeth gnashed and he jumped at the spectre—but the point was moot as he fell through it and onto the cold tile.

Jaune hit the ground hard. Turning, he couldn't find a trace of Naruto Uzumaki; it was if he had never been there to begin with.

Jaune Arc swore under his breath, standing and trodding back over the sink.

His hands clutched at his skull; the throbbing from earlier had returned. Heavy and low, like the entire world was shaking with him.

He had never felt so alone, so ruined over nothing! Never in his life had he felt like he had made a mistake as great as this one. Never had he made a mistake as grave as faking his way into this school.

Both of his hands clenched into fists and slammed onto the countertop.

Was this his punishment? Was this some sort of retribution that had been thrust onto him for the sins that he had committed in coming here?

He wanted to laugh; he wanted to scream, but most of all he wanted to forget—forget that this had ever happened, forget that his life had spiraled into a mess so large, fallen into a pit so deep, that he was unsure if he would be able to claw his way back out.

Was this all that he was going to do?

"Jaune! Are you okay?"

The voice of Pyrrha tore through the haze that had fallen over him. His vision cut away from the mirror; it cut away from the blue eyes that were staring back into his own—eyes that very much resembled the ones that he had just seen—and he realized that his fingers had dug into his hands, breaking through his aura and making them bleed. They healed fast enough.

The sink was still running. He wasn't sure why that mattered, but for some reason, it stuck out in his mind. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the door and tried for a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Ha! Not even he believed that. His voice sounded so weak, so pathetic, that he was certain Pyrrha would push the issue.

"Okay Jaune, just try to get a little sleep, will you?" The question caught him off guard. Her voice had sounded so sincere, so worried.

And then another realization dawned on him, one that he felt was worse than everything else. The realization that he had a team that relied on him now.

Jaune felt awful. He heard her footfalls, signifying that she had returned to bed. He was here, somewhere that he didn't belong, but the worst part was that he was putting these people in danger—putting his team into a bad situation by his close proximity.

He couldn't leave the school. What would happen to them? It wouldn't be fair for anything to befall them because of the mistakes that he had made, the lies that he had told.

The words of Naruto Uzumaki rang through his head one more time.

'I've done nothing. All you're doing is hiding from the reality that you're too afraid to face. You know why I'm here, you just won't admit it to yourself.'

Those words… they meant a lot. He was just uncertain of their depth.

Jaune was stuck, a rock and a hard place didn't even begin to explain the situation he was in. He faced the sink, turning off the water, and letting out a dejected sigh.

He wasn't a hero, only a fraud.

Chapter End:

That's done now. Hope you all enjoyed it. The last chapter seemed to be well received, but it also received a lot of hate. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.

Feel free to review; each and every one that I receive is appreciated.