Jaune's hangover woke him long before the alarm on his Scroll went off. Between the repressed urge to vomit and dizziness, he felt as if he was back on an airship without any Aura to buffer him from the violent turbulence both outside the craft and within his body.
He opened his eyes to the early-morning light, and cursed Junior's cocktails. None of them had tasted of alcohol. They'd been some of the nicest drinks he'd ever tasted. But he'd be damned if his breath didn't smell like the bottom of a bottle.
Lurching unsteadily to his feet, Jaune managed to stagger across to the bathroom without falling onto anything - or anyone. He closed the door as quietly as he could behind himself, and rested his forehead against the mirror. It was cool to the touch, soothing away some of the ache in his head. He remained in that position for a while, eyes closed, until his bare feet grew unpleasantly cold on the tiled floor.
He opened his eyes again, straightening upright. This time he felt slightly more human than when he'd pulled himself out of bed. And there was something wonderful on the countertop before him. His toothbrush,
Jaune brushed his teeth twice, and stole a swig of mouthwash from one of his teammates. Even after all that, he could still taste the ghost of drink on his breath, but it was a start. He ducked his head under the tap in the sink, and let icy water run over his hair and down onto his face. He shivered in pleasure at the sensation, and ran his fingers through his wet hair.
With a quick glance at his reflection, Jaune could see the shadow of his late night printed clear on his face. Well, he thought, that wasn't a good impression to make on the first day of classes. And he was the first one up. So there was at least one bright side to this unpleasant start to the day - he would get to use the shower first.
Before stepping into the cubicle, Jaune checked the time on his Scroll. He smiled weakly. Half six. He must have only slept for about four hours, but he couldn't bear the thought of climbing back into the bed that had roiled underneath him like a hammock in a seastorm. At least that gave him plenty of time to get cleaned up.
A fierce spray of hot water, soap, and shampoo later, Jaune felt almost as good as new. He brushed his teeth once more for good measure, and then dried himself off with the fluffiest of the four towels that had been provided with the dormitory.
He'd brought his own, and so had the others in his team, but these towels were just so much better that he couldn't help but be grateful for whoever had decided that students were likely to turn up unprepared with the basic necessities like towels. He suspected Professor Goodwitch was responsible. She seemed to have the right combination of believing all the students were idiots and an obligation to prevent that idiocy from being a problem - although whether it was motherly protection towards the students in her care or simply cold professionalism, he had no idea.
As he made his way back into the main room of their dormitory, Jaune looked over the sleeping faces of his new team. Well, the blanket-swaddled heaps where their faces presumably were. He doubted that any of them would be up for a while yet, since they were so deeply asleep that the sound of his shower hadn't disturbed them.
Briefly he wondered how loud it would have been from this side of the door. He was sure that his future held some more late-night outings, both for training and to meet with Torchwick, and it'd be nice to know that he could sneak back in and clean off the sweat of combat without anybody noticing his absence. If his teammates saw him slipping out at night regularly then coming back in a state of disarray, they were bound to ask questions he couldn't answer.
The door looked solid enough, and it fit snugly in its frame, so Jaune hoped that it would be enough to block off most of the noise of the shower. He didn't want to bring battlefield sweat onto his bedsheets, after all.
Once he'd dressed and gathered his weapon, Jaune slipped out of the dorm, and attempted to make his way outside.
It didn't take him too long to navigate the winding corridors this time, but he was beginning to regret skipping out on the orientation tour by the time he finally escaped into the pale morning light. He shivered upon leaving the warm building behind.
Even though it was summer, the air was chilly this early. Jaune smiled to himself. Only a week or so of living in civilization proper, and he'd already begun to go soft. He jogged across the grounds, letting the exercise warm him, until he found an appropriately secluded spot. A cluster of trees were growing close to the Academy wall, and when he slipped between them, he found a decent sized clearing.
This would make a nice little getaway for whenever he needed to get out of the public eye. His dorm was comfortable enough, but he'd spent years roughing it, and felt at home outdoors. He sat against the wall, leaning against it and gazing upwards.
There were windows two floors up, but he doubted anyone would be able to see him unless they leaned out and looked straight down - which seemed very unlikely, considering he was leaning against the building which housed the classrooms.
He knew that he'd have to do his real training with his Grimm off-campus, but, for now, he dared to summon one with a tap on Crocea Mors.
His original Beowulf emerged, a monstrosity of bristling fangs and bone-spurs, but after a moment of scanning the surroundings for danger, it crouched down beside Jaune, and then finally curled up on the ground, resting its head in his lap.
Jaune snorted at the absurdity of the situation, had this been a normal Grimm, and rested his hands on the Beowulf's head. It was warm to the touch, as if it had spent a day in the sun. He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the warmth of the beast wash away the morning chill. It seemed to help push away what remained of his hangover, too.
"You're not really a Grimm, are you?" he murmured to the beast draped over him. It growled in assent, and he sighed. It wasn't like he could just ask it to explain how his Semblance worked. That was like asking his sword how to cut something. He could only use his ability, observe, and learn.
He pushed an extra burst of Aura into being, and a second Beowulf joined them. This one curled up on his other side, burying its head in his side. Jaune shook his head, stifling a laugh. If his classmates had reacted so much to seeing him cuddled up to Blake, they'd lose their minds seeing him like this with a pair of Grimm, even if they were gold instead of black.
Since he'd only gained the ability to summon a second Beowulf since absorbing the Ursa in the White Fang tunnels, Jaune wondered if he'd be able to create a third if he'd succeeded in capturing the Deathstalker before Pyrrha had killed it. He smiled ruefully. He couldn't blame her for it. She'd thought she was helping, and even he hadn't known that the half-complete process of absorbing the dying Grimm would have a backlash like that.
Jaune knew that he'd have to warn his team to stay clear if he was absorbing a Grimm in future. Absorbing them could be passed off as an unusual finishing move, so he felt confident about letting them see that part of the process. All they'd see would be the Grimm glow and then disappear - and, in truth, it did work as a finishing move against weakened opponents. They were paralyzed while he was channelling his Aura into them, overwhelming them, and it was as effective as cutting off their heads at dispatching a foe.
He'd attempted to capture additional beowolves before, but never with any success. All attempts had just resulted in his Aura smothering the Grimm much, much faster than when he first absorbed them, and disintegrating the beast in question.
With a thought, Jaune dispelled both of his Grimm, and placed the sheath of Crocea Mors on his lap. He traced the sigils with a fingertip, careful not to let any stray Aura pulse through and reactivate them.
Since obtaining the Ursa sigil, he'd gained a second Beowulf, but the Ursa he could summon was much smaller and weaker than the monster he'd slain. Beowolves grew in strength by fighting in packs, whereas Ursa were solitary creatures. He guessed that if he obtained another sigil, he'd gain the ability to summon a third Beowulf, and his Ursa would grow.
A pity about the Deathstalker, he thought to himself regretfully, but knowing that there was nothing he could have done to change the outcome there. He resolved to find a new species of Grimm soon, though, to test his theory. Surely Roman would help.
He couldn't help but wonder if gaining the Ursa had increased his own strength, but knew he had no way to measure it, and leaned back with a sigh.
There were so many questions. He'd never thought much of his Semblance before, just used it to survive. And he'd only ever used his finishing move on Beowolves, so until that Ursa, he'd had no idea he could learn to summon other Grimm.
Jaune remained in that little clearing a little longer, until he could feel the sun warm his face. The change in temperature reminded him that time was passing, and he checked his Scroll. Almost half eight.
He snuck back into his dorm room, hoping nobody had noticed his absence - but, naturally, they were all awake and getting ready for class.
Nora and Ren gave him curious looks as he stepped through the door. Pyrrha was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of running water answered that question for him.
"Did you have breakfast without us?" asked Nora in a hurt voice. "Ren made pancakes!"
"I - ah - no. I just went for a walk to clear my head. I'm no good in the morning until I start moving," lied Jaune, feeling slightly guilty for walking out on his team on their first night and their first morning.
Abruptly the water shut off, and Pyrrha stepped into the room, clad only in a towel.
Jaune tried not to stare, but the towel was pulled tight across her body, not covering very much, and leaving little else to his imagination. Her creamy skin shone with droplets of water, and he was hit with the sudden realisation that her curves weren't revealed by her armour so much as covered up by it. He tried to keep his gaze above her neck, but if the knowing smile on her face was anything to go by, Pyrrha had caught his wandering gaze.
"Pity you didn't come back sooner," she said innocently. "Nora finished off the last of them."
"I think I came back at the right moment," said Jaune under his breath. Pyrrha arched an eyebrow, clearly catching his meaning. "Uh- at the right moment for us to go to class together, I mean. Since we're a team, we should all head to our first class together, don't you think?"
"We have your favourite subject first," said Pyrrha nonchalantly. "Grimm Studies."
Jaune laughed nervously, and sat down on his bed. Pyrrha took a seat on hers, which was the one right next to him. She sat facing him, so close that their knees were almost touching. He swallowed, trying not to react as she stretched upwards, pushing her chest out with the motion, as she tied her hair back into its long ponytail.
A plate of pancakes miraculously appeared on his lap.
He glanced up to see Ren standing there, wearing an apron and holding out a fork and bottle of syrup.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Thanks." He glanced at Pyrrha, who suddenly seemed confused.
"I thought Nora ate all the pancakes," she said, bewildered.
"So did Nora," said Nora in a threatening voice.
Ren took off his apron and bundled Nora's head in it. She flailed at him and squawked in discomfort. The tiniest of smiles appeared on Ren's face, and he swiftly dodged Nora's grasping arms, then darted closer to tie the apron strings tightly around her head.
Jaune dug into his pancakes quickly, both so he could bury his face somewhere away from Pyrrha's scantily clad body, and out of fear of Nora once she escaped. Although she didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get out of the apron.
Pyrrha stood suddenly, and Jaune leaned back to avoid having his face buried into her chest. Not that he'd have objected, but he felt like motorboating your partner on the first day of school was not a good direction to go in, accidental or otherwise. She stepped around his bed, and headed back into the bathroom.
Now that Jaune felt safe looking up without his eyes wandering, he could see the scene unfolding before him. Nora was attempting to attack Ren and free herself, but had somehow only succeeded in wriggling her face out through a hole in the apron, giving the impression that she was wearing a bonnet. Ren was fending her off with a spatula.
Jaune laughed to himself, and hurriedly finished his pancakes.
"Thanks for cooking for us, Ren," he said. The other boy gave him a brief nod in recognition. He didn't seem overly exerted by fending off Nora, so Jaune figured he was just a quiet person.
As everyone else seemed busy, Jaune gathered the dishes and began to wash them in the small kitchen. It seemed like their dorm consisted of three rooms - the shared bedroom, the bathroom, and a tiny kitchen with very little in the way of appliances. Really, it just had a kettle and a few pans, along with a cooker to use them on, along with a sink. Jaune guessed that it was supposed to be more for snacks and drinks than meals, which would all be in the main cafeteria. This kitchen was just for anyone who got hungry after meals were over.
There really wasn't much room for four people in this dorm, but Jaune didn't mind the tight fit. He was used to spending time in close quarters on the road with strangers, huddled around a campfire. Distance meant danger. If you were all together, then there was no chance of stragglers being picked off one by one.
His main concern was that there were two girls on the team and they were all sharing a room - but then Pyrrha came back from the bathroom, fully dressed in her uniform. He shrugged to himself. That was one way to make it work, he supposed. And it wasn't as if he objected to the daily sight of scantily clad women.
He'd certainly woken up to worse sights than Pyrrha in a towel.
"If we're all ready, we should probably head to class," he said "Do any of you know where the Grimm Studies classroom is? I kinda skipped out on the tour."
"Nora was impersonating a sloth when we were in the academic building," said Ren dryly. Jaune stared at the girl, who beamed, still wearing the apron as a bonnet. He decided not to ask for details as he watched Ren patiently unknot the strings holding it onto her.
The three of them turned in synch to look hopefully at Pyrrha, who looked torn between laughter and throwing something at them.
"I think I can remember the way," she said, holding back her amusement.
"Yay!" exclaimed Nora. "Team JNPR's first mission: get to class! Lead us to victory, Pyrrha!"
"Class," corrected Ren quietly.
"Lead us to class, Pyrrha!" cheered Nora, before wilting. "Aww, class?" she asked pitifully. Ren put a hand on her head and pushed her off the bed she'd been sitting on."
"Well, we are at school," said Pyrrha.
Jaune refrained from commenting, although he sympathised more with Nora's sentiment than Pyrrha ruthless use of logic. Pyrrha was correct, however, and the team made their way to class in varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Five minutes into Professor Port's lecture, Jaune completely understood why Pyrrha had been so impressed by his knowledge of Grimm. He struggled to keep his eyes open after that late night - the only good aspect of the Professor's pompous storytelling voice was the constant jump in volume as he got excited. Every time that Professor Port began a sentence or ended a particularly - to his mind - important section of the story, he'd raise his voice in emphasis.
Jaune could feel his head throbbing in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with the amount he'd drunk last night. No, he was certain that his hangover had been washed away by his hot shower and the cool morning air.
Blake and her teammates were sitting in the front row, on the other side of the classroom. He tried to catch her eye, but she didn't look back at him, so he gave up on that idea. He was amazed that she could keep an interest in the lecture at first, but then noticed the book lying open on the desk in front of her, and smiled.
Of course. She was just ignoring the pompous windbag to read. The sound of muffled giggles were coming from her teammates, however, and Jaune tried to surreptitiously catch a glimpse of what they were laughing at.
All he could catch was that it was something Ruby was doing to amuse Yang - and that their final member, Weiss, was incredibly pissed off about it.
Professor Port must have also caught on, because he cleared his throat emphatically, staring at the girls until they were quiet, and then continued to tell his story.
"In the end, the Beowulf was no match for my sheer tenacity, and I returned to my village with the beast in captivity and my head held high, celebrated as a hero!" announced Port, bowing with unnecessarily dramatic flourish.
Jaune gritted his teeth. He was certain that the Professor was a pompous ass, but that was a terrible story to tell trainee hunters. Nevermind his boasting and awful droning, Port was supposed to be teaching them - and that story was not a good example to follow.
"Did you want to be a hero so much that you were willing to endanger your village by bringing a Beowulf home?" snapped Jaune, unable to help himself. He immediately regretted the outburst, and realised that he was standing, his fists clenched. Pyrrha's hand on his arm was a sudden, soothing presence, and he forced himself to calm down. But the whole room - including a very displeased teacher - was staring at him now, and he knew that he couldn't just sit down after effectively insulting the man. He had to at least explain himself, although he wished he could just hide under his desk and wait for class to end.
"You should have killed it the moment you overpowered it," Jaune continued in a calmer voice. "Beowolves often feign injury to escape, and it could have torn you to pieces as soon as you came close enough to tie it up and put it into your wagon. Or even if it was stunned, it could have easily broken its bonds once it had had a chance to heal. You risked setting it loose in the middle of a community of defenceless people, just so you could have a trophy!" Jaune's voice rose at the end, and he struggled to moderate his voice back down to reasonable tones.
"Being a Hunter isn't about being a hero. It's about protecting people."
Port stared at Jaune silently from underneath his thick eyebrows, and Jaune felt increasingly uncomfortable. He sat down, fidgeting under his desk, and regretting having said anything.
"Well now, it seems we have someone in our midst who has the ideals of a true Hunter. Tell me, young man, do you have the skills to back it up?" asked Port, his tone betraying nothing.
"I'm still alive," said Jaune, defiant but nervous.
Port continued to stare at him, and Jaune twitched under his oppressive glare. He hadn't meant to speak out of turn; it had just happened. He didn't take back what he'd said, but he wished that he'd just had the good sense to keep his head down instead of acting without thinking.
But then Port threw his head back and burst into a deep and jovial belly-laugh, surprising Jaune - and given the soft sigh of relief beside him, Pyrrha as well. Jaune guessed that she'd been worried for him, and he flashed her a grateful smile.
"Well said, young Hunter! Well said! And I must say, while you are correct that a Hunter must always be careful to dispatch a foe properly, and never endanger innocents, I had been commissioned to capture the beast, not simply kill it. Killing it in the woods would have made my village safe, but none of them would have truly felt safe without seeing proof of the beast's demise," declared Port. "And, of course, knowing that they had such a stalwart protector in their midst, should another Grimm venture nearby," he finished, winking at Jaune.
Jaune sighed in relief, slumping in his seat. He'd been terrified of making an enemy of the teacher of his first class, but the man had brushed it all off. He was grateful to see that there was someone reasonable underneath the braggart.
"I had intended to ask for a volunteer for this next stage of class, but as you have already announced yourself as a true Hunter in training, I think you'll be a suitable choice, Mr Arc," said Port, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Why don't you come on down here."
Jaune flinched. Yeah, he didn't think any teacher would appreciate being corrected in their own class.
He pushed himself up, and made his way down the stairs to the centre of the room. Professor Port moved to one side and pulled open a curtain.
In an alcove, a steel cage had been lurking this whole time. At the sudden light, the beast within began to rage inside, slamming its weight against the bars, and roaring in anger at being trapped.
"Are you ready to face the darkness of our world, young Hunter?" asked Professor Port rhetorically.
Jaune grimaced, and unsheathed his sword. He left his shield as a sheath. Whatever was in that cage was small enough that he wouldn't need to block any huge blows, and his shield was a cumbersome thing to carry into battle. Leaving it dormant would give him the edge in terms of dexterity and speed.
He suspected the cage contained a Beowulf, crushed into a space too small to drive it mad enough to be a spectacle in a fight, but couldn't really tell. The alcove was shrouded in darkness, and only glowing red eyes were visible.
"In that case, begin!" announced Port, opening the cage with a blow from his weapon, and releasing an angry Grimm into the classroom. Jaune decided that his earlier impression was right - this Professor was an irresponsible windbag. If another student had been picked, they could have been seriously injured. He narrowed his eyes, and resolved to end this quickly, lest the Grimm turn its attention on the other students watching the match from their seats.
The Grimm stepped forwards slowly, snorting as it emerged from the shadows. Bone-white tusks emerged first from the darkness. A Boarbatusk. Jaune shifted his weight to present a side profile, making himself a smaller target.
The beast took a few more steps out, until it was fully visible, then shook its flanks and roared, revealing a mouth full of huge teeth behind those tusks. Uneven plates of patterned armour covered its back, spreading out from its mask and down its flanks.
Jaune had fought enough Boarbatusk to know how this was going to go. They were weaker than Ursa, but stronger than Beowolves, relying on individual attacks of overwhelming force rather than any sort of cunning.
The Boarbatusk pawed the floorboards, huffing angry breaths. Jaune tensed. That was the signal. It charged. The crash of its weight against the floor made a thunderous drumbeat, almost as fast as Jaune's beating heart, but he forced himself to remain in position until it was almost upon him.
Once it was close enough for him to feel the heat of its fetid breath, Jaune leaned towards the right, as if to dive out of the way. The Boarbatusk followed his movement, and swung its tusks in that direction, trying to catch him as he dove away - but it was a feint. As soon as the Grimm had committed itself to moving in that direction, it was too heavy to change its course. Jaune was light on his feet, and leapt to the left of its charge, catching himself on the ground with both feet and one hand. The other held his sword, point-first.
Jaune dove forwards, letting his momentum add strength to his blow, and pierced the Boarbatusk at the base of its neck. Attacking from below had allowed him to avoid its armour, but he didn't stop there. Even as it writhed, trying to reach him with its tusks, Jaune pushed upwards, using his whole body as leverage to push Crocea Mors up through its neck and into the beast's brain.
It was a hardy beast, still standing even with a sword buried deep in its brain, and snapped its teeth, shaped like oversized jagged bricks, in Jaune's direction. He managed to slide out of its bite without losing his grip on Crocea Mors, and activated his Semblance, pushing his Aura into the Boarbatusk.
Nothing seemed to happen at first, but the beast froze. Jaune figured that his Aura was flooding the creature from the inside first, given the position of his sword, and sure enough, it was only moments later that the trademark glow of his power spread across the Boarbatusk's flanks, and then the armour plating upon its back, and finally its mask.
The Grimm roared in defiance, and then imploded into a cloud of golden motes. Jaune stood, and they swirled about him in flickers of gold and white before vanishing into nothingness.
He glanced down at his sheath, and watched as his third golden sigil form, this one stylized after a Boarbatusk's mask. It was a simple, almost elegant representation - four eyes, the shape of the mask, and two tusks, illustrated by a single line of gold upon the white metal of his sheath. Jaune let out a deep breath, and sheathed his sword, turning to face Professor Port.
Jaune was prepared for a question about his finishing technique. He was prepared for a critique of his combat skills.
He was not prepared for the roar of applause that filled the room, started by Professor Port's enthusiastic clapping.
"Huzzah!" bellowed Port, over the sound of the other students as they joined in with the applause. "An excellent victory! Efficient, effective, and without any wasted effort. Bravo, young Hunter. Bravo!"
Jaune ducked his head in embarrassment, his cheeks flooding with heat. He just knew that he was blushing, and hated himself for it.
"Stay after class," finished Port, in a tone much less jovial than a moment ago. Jaune met his gaze, and saw a determined expression of narrowed eyebrows and a set jaw. He nodded in silent agreement, and was about to make his way back to his seat when Port began speaking again.
"And upon that bracing example of combat, class dismissed!" he announced. "Except for you," he reminded Jaune in a quieter voice, yet not so quiet that others couldn't hear it.
The rest of the class filed out behind him, as Jaune stood there awkwardly under Port's unwavering gaze. He didn't know whether to look away or meet his teacher's eyes. Was looking away disrespectful, or would a staring contest be taken as a challenge? He groaned silently. Even fighting a Grimm hadn't been enough to get him out of trouble.
"Good luck," whispered Ruby as she passed. Jaune gave her a weak smile, and hoped that he wouldn't need it.
When the room was empty, the door swung shut with a bang. The sound had the finality of a coffin lid being slammed shut, and Jaune dreaded what was to come next. He wasn't sure if he was in trouble for speaking out or about to be interrogated about his semblance, but Professor Port's expression was deadly serious.
The man stepped forward, and, unexpectedly clasped a huge hand on Jaune's shoulder.
"Ordinarily I'd reprimand a student for speaking out of turn like that," he began. "I'd remind them that I explicitly said that I'd been sent out to capture the Beowulf at the beginning of my lecture, and that a lack of attention is sloppy in a Hunter, and will lead to an untimely death. I'd also remind them that while I welcome any and all questions about my methods, I do not, under any circumstances, allow students to take on the role of teacher and correct MY mistakes." The Professor had a booming voice suited to the lecture hall, and it was hardly any softer this close up.
Jaune remained silent, waiting for his punishment to be announced.
"However, you put on an impressive performance against the Boarbatusk," continued Professor Port, "and I make sure to examine the records of all my students. Yours in particular stood out. Exemplary skill, glowing references - and living outside the Kingdoms until recently."
"Since I was ten," said Jaune, hesitantly.
"I grew up outside the Kingdoms myself - I trust you paid at least THAT much attention to my lecture?" asked Port, raising an eyebrow. Jaune nodded, and shifted his weight onto his other foot uneasily.
The large professor sighed, and let go of Jaune's shoulder.
"So who did you lose?"
Jaune froze.
"Oh, come now. A reaction that emotional can only come from experience. You've seen what happens when Grimm get inside a village without Hunters, haven't you?"
Jaune unclenched his fists, and forced himself to meet Port's eyes.
"More than once," he bit out. "Idiots catching Beowolves in nets to show off at home. Gates left open at night even when there were warnings of Grimm sightings nearby. That - that abomination of a travelling circus," he spat out, memories of villages he'd travelled through and watched be destroyed flooding his mind.
"You're from Underhusk?" asked Port, quietly for him, in what would be a normal person's speaking voice.
Jaune shook his head.
"No. I lived on the road, mostly. But I was there on the night of the circus massacre. I…" he trailed off.
"It's alright, lad. You don't need to talk about it. A bad business, that. And all the others." Port sighed, and peered intently at Jaune. "You've some real experience out there. I can forgive a little outburst once in a while, given the circumstances. But if you'd been listening all the way through class, you'd have heard the full story, wouldn't you?" he rebuked Jaune, gently.
"Sorry. I just spoke up without thinking," he muttered.
"And if you'd been listening, you'd have known how needless that interruption was. Now, I can't have students interrupting my class thinking that they know best when they just haven't been paying attention, but I can certainly understand why the thought of such carelessness would elicit a strong reaction from somebody who's witnessed the consequences."
"Sorry Professor," muttered Jaune, again.
"Don't be sorry. Be attentive. Here as well as out there," said Port, making a sweeping gesture with his arm, no doubt indicating the entire world beyond the confines of this classroom. "It'll keep you out of trouble in more ways than one."
"Yes sir," said Jaune, beginning to feel a little guilty for underestimating Port through his own inattentiveness.
"I'll consider your spectacular performance against the Boarbatusk recompense for the interruption, but let's not have it happen again, hmm?" If you have a question, phrase it as such. Don't lecture me in my own classroom," instructed the teacher. Jaune winced at the words. Yeah, he admitted, that's what he'd done. And it wasn't something any teacher would welcome. Port was taking it with a surprising level of understanding.
"I'll do better next time," said Jaune resolutely. Port patted him on the back so hard that he almost stumbled forwards, his stern expression turning into a smile.
"That'll do for now. But remember - outside the classroom, you won't always have the luxury of a next time. Go on, off with you," he finished, dismissing Jaune.
Jaune heaved a sigh of relief, and bolted from the classroom.
As soon as the door closed, he leaned against the wall outside, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He could take a telling-off, but Port had brought up terrible memories. The circus massacre had been one of the most harrowing things he'd ever witnessed. He remembered it and hated it almost as vividly as the day his parents died.
"That bad?" asked a sympathetic voice. Jaune snapped his eyes open to see Blake standing in front of him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and joined him, leaning against the corridor wall.
"Waiting. Obviously," she said.
"For me?" asked Jaune. Blake gave him a deadpan look, and Jaune smiled. Right. Of course she was. Unless she had a secret rendezvous with Professor Port planned. "What for?" he asked.
"My teammates are bickering. I was more interested in seeing what happened to you than hearing them squabble," said Blake. She gave Jaune a concerned look. "You're really shaken up. What happened in there?" she demanded with narrowed eyes.
"He just told me to pay more attention in class, and not interrupt him to bring up something he'd already mentioned."
"I don't know, you had a good point," mused Blake. "I don't remember him saying anything like that."
"Neither did I," said Jaune. "Evidently."
Blake stared at him, not asking anything, but obviously suspicious.
"Just a scolding wouldn't upset a five year old this much," she said. Jaune caught the hint, and relented under her determined lack of questions but obvious curiosity.
"He realised that I was speaking from experience. It brought up memories," he said.
Blake leaned against him comfortingly, satisfied with his vague answer. Jaune was surprised that she didn't ask for more detail, but grateful - both for the company and the lack of pressure to share. Perhaps it was because she didn't ask that he continued speaking, or perhaps it was because of the cat ears nestled under her bow, but Jaune took a deep breath, and tried to sort out his tumultuous thoughts.
He reached up to touch her bow, thinking of the Faunus he'd seen at that awful circus. She flinched in surprise, and jerked her head away.
"Don't go fondling me in public," she muttered. Jaune chuckled weakly, then looked her in her yellow slitted cat-eyes.
"Have you ever heard of the Circus of Subhuman Freaks?" he asked.
Blake stiffened.
"Yes," she said shortly.
"I expected you would have," Jaune said under his breath. "I was in a village once. Peaceful town. Farmers, mostly. A few woodcutters. One store for the whole town. It didn't even have a mayor. People just got on with their own business."
"Sounds nice," said Blake, but cautiously. The mention of the circus had set her on edge.
"It was called Underhusk," said Jaune.
Blake let out a sharp breath that sounded like a hiss.
"You were there?" she asked, adding up the facts. Jaune nodded grimly.
"People were excited when they heard a circus was coming into town, but nobody had any idea what it was going to be like. They set up their tent on the village green and sold tickets to anyone with Lien or food to trade."
He shuddered at the memory.
"Once the show began, it seemed innocent enough. People began to get worried when they brought out the Grimm, but the ringmaster assured the crowd that they couldn't escape the ring. They'd been fitted with Dust shock-collars that stunned them if they tried to cross the boundary. But that was when they brought out the other cages. Full of Faunus. Wearing the same collars."
"And people wonder why the White Fang exists," hissed Blake, her voice full of the same rage that Jaune had felt that day.
"The villagers were good people," said Jaune slowly. "All human. I don't think they'd ever seen a Faunus in their life. But they knew this was evil. It was the owner of the general store who went down first. He prized the collar off one of the Faunus, and then everyone was down in the ring, trying to set them free."
Jaune closed his eyes, horrific images from that day flashing before his eyes.
"But the ringmaster couldn't have people stealing his possessions," he spat out.
"So he unleashed the Grimm," finished Blake quietly. Jaune nodded, his throat thick with emotion.
"They killed him first. But that tent was a deathtrap. The Faunus were weak and malnourished. The crowd was confused, scared, and angry. There was only one exit. Seventeen of us made it out alive. A hundred people lived in that village. Not everyone had gone to the circus, but the Grimm tore the town it was a ruin," he whispered.
Blake slipped her hand into his and squeezed.
"I remember hearing about that two years ago," she said quietly. "I thought the Grimm just escaped. That the crowd got what they deserved. I was so angry."
"Does the truth make you feel any better?" asked Jaune, his voice empty of all emotion.
Blake didn't answer. She didn't need to. Jaune could see the guilt in her expression. He reached up and touched her cheek with his free hand.
"It's alright that you were angry," he said. "You didn't know."
"For two years I've thought that was just another crime committed by vicious humans. How many more lies am I going to find?" whispered Blake, speaking more to herself than Jaune.
"It was still the work of evil humans," said Jaune. "Just not as many as you'd thought. And that kind of person hurts everyone they meet, human or Faunus." He squeezed Blake's hand in return, and pulled her away from the wall. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"No!" insisted Blake. "I'm glad you did. It's a good reminder that I made the right choice coming to Beacon. To let go of old hate." She sighed.
Jaune tugged on her hand, and forced himself to smile.
"I think we've flooded this corridor with melancholy. We should go somewhere else before Grimm start to show up."
Blake rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be pulled along.
Before long, Jaune had dragged her outside. The sun had fully risen, and it was pleasantly warm outside. He wandered over to a sprawling oak tree, and dropped himself down at its base. Blake seated herself beside him in a more controlled fashion, tucking her legs underneath her skirt, and brushing leaves away from clinging to her clothing.
"We don't have any more lessons until this afternoon," said Jaune. "So I was hoping you'd come through on the deal we made."
"What deal?" she asked.
"Read to me," said Jaune. Blake rolled her eyes again, but didn't say no. "I won't stand a chance in history if I can't brush up on basic literacy first. But we have a few days until that class, so maybe you can help me get a running start."
"I'm not reading you a history book," muttered Blake, sounding disgusted. Jaune turned a pleading expression on her.
"But you promised to help!" he moaned. She glared at him briefly, then pushed him into a new position. "Hey!" he protested, only to stop complaining as she clambered into his lap, wriggling until she was sitting comfortably.
"I'll read my book aloud, and you can follow along over my shoulder. Tell me if I'm going too fast," she said.
Jaune shrugged.
"That might be a good start. I suppose I can try to remember what little I know of punctuation and grammar. Even learn to spell some of the thousand words I can say but not write down. But I'll need more involved help as well," he said reluctantly.
"I know," said Blake. "But I really want to finish my book." She gave Jaune a wicked smile over her shoulder. "Even you can't get between me and a good story."
"If it's a good story you should at least start reading from the beginning," complained Jaune. "Or I'll have missed out on half of what's going on." Blake's lips quirked upwards slightly.
"I don't mind starting again," she said softly, pulling a paperback out of her bag.
"So what's this about?" asked Jaune, peering over her shoulder at the cover.
"Shut up and listen," said Blake, and opened the book.
Jaune leaned back against the tree comfortably, and pulled Blake closer to him so that he could see the book better. She made a muffled squeak as he pulled her close to him, but then settled down upon realising why he'd done so.
Absentmindedly, he left his arm wrapped around her waist from where he'd pulled her closer. She rested her hands on his arm, holding the book open for them both to see, and began to read aloud in a slow, pleasant tone.
She was a much better storyteller than Professor Port.
