"Are you training him or are you beating him?" Pyrrha's voice bought him a moment of reprieve as Yang bristled; she'd been fanning the flame for the entire spar. Unable to direct her anger at Pyrrha it bled into her punches as Jaune ducked, dodged and weaved through her fury. Perhaps Pyrrha knew that his 'Danger sense' worked better when he was in real danger—which was something training with Yang brought in spades—and decided to help out. Some might call it wishful thinking; he preferred 'hopeful optimism'.
Truthfully, even Jaune could see the tension that had driven itself like a stake into the relationship of Pyrrha and Yang; they'd never been particularly close within the gang but lately the divide was palpable. If only he could think of a way to fix it, they could kiss and make up—and wasn't that a thought?—if it hadn't been for him sneaking around with Yang. Pyrrha must have been terribly upset, she had been his instructor first and he'd betrayed that.
The crux of the matter had been that Pyrrha was just too gentle with him, he responded well to real danger; as his semblance might indicate. At times he'd even wondered if Pyrrha had just been humouring him, her gentle reassurances always did so little to ease his heart. As if she'd reached for something complimentary to say and found nothing, so she doled out generalised reassurances.
Yang was never one for the idea of patiently doling out reassurances to soothe his bruised ego; instead she liked to beat his body until he had a matching pair. It was a tougher, more painful love but it made each accomplishment a mountain, each sliver of praise became water in a desert. He found he thought less of his failings when challenged by Yang, she'd never hold back and it made stomaching a resounding defeat that bit easier. Each second he bought before the inevitable was a tiny victory.
It seemed as though the inevitable had snuck up on him. Yang had backed him into a wall during his distraction, there'd be no escaping her assault; her fist lashed out, augmented by her anger. With nowhere to run he prepared to take the hit. Acknowledging the danger his sense expanded, it was an odd thing to describe. Not so much a sense in its own right but playing in concert with the five traditional senses; an intuitive understanding of the threat, conveyed through those senses.
Fire, yet not a flame; blunt force trauma. Enough power to cave his skull—without his aura, with it he'd remain mostly intact; a terrible migraine though.
He knew what he needed to do, to avoid damaging the arena—again—and to buy the reprieve he desperately needed.
His hand snapped out along the underside of her fist, with more grace than he'd ever managed in his life; a side-effect of his semblance. A sharp flick of his wrist at the key moment sent her attack skywards, his hand traced the underside of her arm as it raised to ensure it arrived; to ensure his semblance remained active. The next part was tricky, always hard to manage and even harder to remember without his semblance active; he diffused the blow.
High in the air above her head, Yang's hand exploded. A deafening bang but a flameless, lightless explosion; it toppled Yang over backwards and sent Jaune to the floor, slumped against the wall.
The explosion had been low key, no injuries beyond a bruised body and a bruised pride. To say diffused is to place too much finesse into what he did, whenever an attack lands the energy stored is transferred to whatever is hit; Jaune's ability could bypass that effect. It wasn't something he wanted to try on anything larger than a fist; Yang's fist was pushing that limit already. In the short moment where Yang's arm had hit its penultimate destination the energy had been released and subsequently trapped within his ability, however, with no means to redirect it his control faded. Even in that short moment the energy had expanded and released with an explosion.
"Jaune!" Pyrrha had called out but hadn't moved yet; not fully understanding what had happened.
She stood first, recovered from her tumble in a powerful, if not graceful, stand. Her eyes red as her heart beat faster, the explosion had worked her own semblance up. She waited for him to stand, his legs were flimsy but firm enough, she charged.
A figure of bronze and red interposed itself between them.
"Stop! Don't you see that he's hurt?" Of course she saw him hurting; she hurt too but that made it all the more important for her to continue. Pyrrha's unrelenting glare stopped her from continuing, it was incredibly tempting to leave Jaune alone and tackle Pyrrha instead; she reigned herself in.
"Tch." Red faded to lilac. She had lost this battle, too caught up in her semblance; the chance for a real fight had taken precedence as she settled into the clarity that came with her red eyes. Still coming down from the rush of her semblance she watched them leave.
A hot shower to soothe his aches has been exactly what the doctor—Pyrrha—had called for. Enjoying the warm water cascading down his body he revelled in the solitude of the communal showers; it was quite the luxury.
The soft pitter-patter of footsteps alerted him to his company. He'd have sworn it was a girl walking up on him by the footsteps; the shock of pink he caught in his peripheral cemented the fact in his mind. He screamed.
The sound cut off abruptly as an effeminate hand clamped down over his mouth. He knew not why she was here but he was certain now more than ever, he could smell a faint hint of lilac from the hand.
"Stop." It was the dull baritone of his teammate's voice that sounded from the girl. He realised it was no girl, a sigh of relief left his lips; Ren released him. It was turning around to see Ren nude that he remembered where he was, where they were, what had been pressed up against him. He screamed; Ren sighed. Eventually he recovered from the shock, uncurled from the floor and stood to resume his shower.
"We need to talk Jaune." He damned Ren and his solemn demeanour, so he'd gotten a bit freaked out that they'd grappled naked a bit. Oblivious to his thoughts Ren continued. "There's been tension lately; I need to know that you're still our team leader."
"Oh. Don't worry, I've been training harder. I'll be the best team leader there ever will be." They both knew he was avoiding the subject. He'd made more progress training under Yang in half the time he'd been training with Pyrrha but could he put that before his team? He didn't know. He answered anyway. "I know you're worried Ren but I promise I'll always put the team first."
With his piece given he left the showers, towelling off as he went. Neither of them convinced. Ren knew Jaune would try though; it was why he had grown to respect him.
Freshly washed and dressed Jaune made his way into the cafeteria. The entire group—bar Ren—were sat together, conversing; only subtle hints of the tension between Yang and Pyrrha making themselves known. In short: Girl talk. Unsure of himself but hungry from his workout he acquired food and planted himself at the edge of the group, next to Nora.
"Where's Ren, Jaune? What did you do to him?" No sooner than he'd seated himself had Nora started her interrogation.
"I didn't do anything to him. He grappled me!" Louder than he had meant but perfectly reasonable given the interrogator; Nora had garnered something of a reputation.
"Aha, so you admit to fighting with Ren." Her relentless pursuit of 'Justice' had been one of the reasons most people tended to avoid her now, that poor guy; he hadn't even known anything.
"There was no fight, Ren just surprised me in the shower is all." Not quite willing to lie—most swore she had some kind of in-built lie detector anyway—Jaune opted for the truth; leaving out his effeminate reaction.
"Whoa, hold on. You were grappling with Ren—in the shower?" When it was put like that he'd rather Nora had just broken his legs. He should've known better than to ignore Yang sitting across from him.
"Yes, no, that's not what it sounds like. I like girls." While a travesty it might've been to have Yang latch onto the conversation he'd dealt with her enough to keep his blush down—the thought of doing that with Ren of all people helped kill his blood flow with the icy breath of a cold shower.
"Oh? What kind of girls, Jauney?" His blush came in full force as Yang leant over the table, almost whispering the sentence to him; a flash of cleavage to lock the red in place.
Too occupied with Yang's form as she shifted back into her seat with a wink he missed Pyrrha's simmering. A colossal tide of rage suffused with the essence of woman scorned; a devastation to be wrought upon the land of Yang Xiao Long.
"Hey, Yang, have you decided if you're going to stay with uncle Qrow over semester break?" Ruby, the selfless—or just naïve—hero interposed herself between Pyrrha and Yang. Distraction accomplished, crisis averted, the conversation continued; a new topic afoot.
"Nope. What about you Jaune, where are you staying for the break?" She was like a dog with a bone, unrelenting in the most direct way possible.
"Ah, I'll be staying in Beacon." Better at Beacon, with the few that might remain than to be elsewhere without a soul to be found.
"Don't you want to spend some time with your family?" His world froze, most would notice his uncertainty and shy hesitance when the topic of 'Family' would arise—Ruby never had much tact though.
"Ruby, that's a little—" I was thankful for Pyrrha's concern but it was unnecessary.
"No, it's fine. My parents are outfield hunters; they don't come into society very often and when they do it takes a while for them to acclimate. Other than them I don't really have family." He'd known the day someone brought his family up would come, though he hadn't thought it would be Ruby of all people; a concession for her blissful naivety he could make.
"So that's why the Arc name fell off the invitation lists; I'd heard rumours but to believe that such a prestigious family became barbarians like that." Weiss's damning knowledge on the other hand, was something he couldn't quite brush off.
He ran. Pyrrha calling after him; Yang untangling herself from her seat: two steps behind him.
"You ok Jaune?" He couldn't have outrun her if he had tried, that didn't make him any less unenthused to talk about his problems.
"Oh, go away. You don't want to be seen associating with a barbarian do you?" A tone far more petulant than intended leaked out, with his arms crossed and sat on a curb he looked the part of an angry child.
"I'll let that one slide. Listen, Weiss doesn't know what she's talking about. My uncle was an outfielder back in the day; he's told me all kinds of stories over the years. It's hard, terrible work they do out there but someone has to do it and I remember he used light up whenever he talked about his old team. They were family to him." She didn't enjoy talking about the past, it'd never been about the good times for her; they were in the present. Instead her younger memories tended towards sorrow and grief, stupid plans and stupid prices—not all of them her uncle had managed to save her from.
"So why'd he quit?"
"My Mom left my Dad; Qrow took a teaching job to help support him. I was too young to remember it but I've always wanted to find her and ask why she left; I think Qrow knows but he's a hard man at times. I think he just wants to protect me but I'm a big girl, I can handle myself." He had to ask, didn't he? Its ok, she could handle it; for Jaune. The more she spoke, the more she went on and the more her story unfurled; small pieces—clues or cues he didn't know—told him her innermost thoughts, the person she was behind herself.
"Heh, sorry, I didn't mean to tell you my life story; I just got a bit worked up." He couldn't fault her for it, not now, not ever.
"Its fine, everyone needs to vent sometimes. If you need any help with… well, you know. I'm always available." Despite the serious tone of the conversation he'd lapsed back into his goofy grin, she found it contagious; so they sat grinning like loons telling each other of the misadventures of their youth.
With a sigh she shook herself awake again; the airship would be arriving soon. Dreary morning clouds hung low in the sky, at discord with the air of excited anticipation that hung around the students that were waiting on the ship which would take them to family some hadn't seen in months. Family like hers, which she hadn't seen in months, she wasn't as excited.
She did not come from an unhappy home or even a cold one; she had grown with a loving—if at times overbearing—mother and a father that would give anything for her to be the best. He had given her childhood; so that she could be the best and while she couldn't hate him for it, she couldn't love him for it either.
Returning home for her would be a series of training, celebrity appearances and meet and greets; the occasional family meal her Mother might prepare being the most to break the monotony. She'd wanted to ask Jaune to come with her, to meet her parents—as forward as that might seem—and to train exclusively with him. She couldn't ask him; she could already imagine the scandal that might break lose, the press hounding him for answers. He would never want to be a part of that, she didn't want to be a part of that, it would scare him off; she would lose him.
"But Yang, I told uncle Qrow you were coming, you can't just change your mind!" The cry of the fabled fifteen year old of Beacon cut through the idle chatter of the crowd gathered.
"Sorry sis, change of plans. We're not kingdoms apart, just an hour." The rest of their conversation became muddled with countless others as everyone resumed their chatter. She'd gotten enough though, Jaune was staying; Yang was staying. She'd been one-upped.
The whistle signalling the airship's arrival cut off any plans for retribution she had. She was trapped, proverbial rock and hard place; the familiar routine of managing her fame, training and family dynamic to the chaotic war for Jaune's affections—without alerting Jaune. She wanted to step away from the airship, to run over and tell him that she'd stay with him at Beacon.
What would he say? What could he say? There would be no dazzling confession, he would not sweep her into his arms and tell her that everything would be okay. In the end she was too afraid of what might, or might not be.
She stepped onto the airship.
AN: Right, sorry it's been so long. It's hard to pick up when you put it down for so long; this had been sat for almost a week with just a little extra needing done. That said some of you probably noticed some weird terminology in there, it'll get fully explained eventually. I'd also like to take this time-having just watched World Of Remnant 2- to state this is going to end up horribly AU. I mean, the later story by and large requires an entirely different world setup with far more vicious grim and a humanity that has been and still is more desperate to survive; hence outfielders. I'll flick some knobs and turn some switches to try and adapt as much as possible to whatever information is released at whatever later date but here's your chance to jump ship.
Please don't jump ship, I need all of my readers.