Why? Why was it that couldn't get this stupid sword thing right!?
Time and time again, an 8-year old Jaune Arc had swung his sword in hopes of getting something right. Time and time again, an 8-year old Jaune Arc had followed the intricate pattern of footsteps required for the patented Arc-Footwork technique.
Time and time again had 8-year old Jaune Arc had attempted to settle into a stance long practiced by his ancestors, and time and time again had Jaune Arc felt like he was...flawed in some weird, unexplainable way.
Jaune Arc felt incomplete. He may have been an 8-year old, but he could still feel. He could still struggle.
It was horrible really, his young mind incapable of comprehending this wave of emotions, these stray thoughts that he just couldn't stop!
But it was also exactly why he couldn't just keel over and give up. If he did, he was afraid he might never understand these feelings of his.
And his father had always told him to not feel too bad about it. But how could he not? He was the eldest Arc! He was expected to be great, and he was failing to meet even the lowest of those expectations!
Even his two younger siblings, the twins Claret and Citron, displayed better talent than he did! They were expected to surpass him within the year, even, despite being an entire year younger than him.
So how in the world was he supposed to compete? Perhaps if he was lucky, he'd quietly slink into the back of everyone's mind and live out the rest of his days in peace...
Jaune awoke at the crack of dawn, something ingrained into him since he'd begun his training. Training that didn't seem like it would be continuing for too much longer, he corrected.
'They're already gearing up to stop my training completely.'
He idly thought, thinking back to how his parents were finding less and less time to spend with him on his so-called training.
Consequently, his parents had somehow been finding less and less time to spend with him in general. As his sisters seemed to as well. So he wasn't all that surprised when the only thing that greeted him when he had trudged out of his rooms' door was a silent house.
He figured there was no need to proclaim this a good morning, as it had been just like every single morning this past month.
And just like every other morning this past month, he figured he would have to eat his breakfast alone once again. It wasn't too bad. At least there would be no need to fend off his father's attempts to get him to quit training.
He couldn't agree to that though. Whether it is with his father's guidance or not, he had resolved to become an Adventurer already. He hadn't quite decided what type of Adventurer he would be, just that he would be one.
He may have still been young, yet he felt this inexplicable pull towards the profession, almost as if there'd been a point in his life where he'd already been one. As if it was all he knew how to be and all he wanted to know how to be.
Before Jaune could continue this train of thought, he felt his stomach deliver retribution upon him for forsaking it for even a few seconds longer. Yeah, he could definitely continue his self-monologue, after he gets something to eat.
He let his feet carry him through a corridor to get to the stairs, and he trudged down the stairs with just enough energy to keep himself from falling onto his own face. He grew more and more awake with each step though, and by the time he had made it to the bottom of the stairs he'd completely woken up.
After making it down the stairs, the sight that greeted him was his family's massive. living room. It may seem somewhat awkward for a family like the Arc's to have such a luxurious living space.
However, despite there only being three Arc-children, there was already another on the way. This was simply preparation, as they didn't particularly seem keen on slowing down on...whatever they did to give him more siblings. Probably hand-holding.
He shook his head to rid himself of such lecherous thoughts and headed towards the door connecting the left of the living room to another corridor, in which he could find the bathroom he usually freshens up in.
He quickly found the door and began to head towards it, pondering exactly what he was going to attempt today. Sword Techniques? Footwork? Maybe he'd even just go ahead and work on his endurance all day. Wouldn't want to lose a fight because he couldn't keep up, physically. Regardless, he'd probably want to take his sword with him. Wooden or not, it's better to train with something than it is to train with nothing.
He stepped into the bathroom and briefly halted his thoughts, so he could start getting ready for the day. He'll just figure it all out after he's had breakfast, he reasons.
After he finished all his cleaning and ate breakfast, Jaune had promptly grabbed his wooden sword from his otherwordly hiding spot--under his bed and left a note on his home's dining table. It was time to enact his masterfully crafted plan.
The note had consisted of exactly how long Jaune was going to spend outside, but it didn't detail what he'd do, nor where he'd planned to go. It was essentially a very vague note that he knew his parents would hate, but what other option did he have?
He knew if he trained where they could see him, they'd interrupt him in one way or another, subtly lulling him back into the house with the promise of some baked goods, or more recently Pumpkin Pete's. Which was evil, by the way! They were using the Pumpkin Pete's to steer him away from his goal. They were abusing one of the most incredible breakfast foods he's ever eaten!
He would NOT stand for that. They would desecrate him no longer!
Still simmering in anger at the injustice his favorite cereal has suffered for so long, Jaune made his way out of the house. He quickly turned left the moment he was out of the door, heading towards a large, lush green forest.
Jaune had decided he'd make his way through the forest in a straight line--as always. He would simply take a left the moment he made it to his special tree. That would lead him into a clearing, where he could practice all he wanted without fail, and without interruptions.
With his path decided, Jaune began his trek through the forest, dodging the branch or two that had been low enough for even an 8-year old to bump into. He had walked on and on, occasionally tripping on a tree branch or two. At some point, he had gotten slightly worried as he'd been walking forquite a while,and he's yet to spot his special tree!
'Whatever. I can just...go left here!'
He impatiently decided, stubborn in his desire to get some training in. As he turned left and began to take his first few steps, he began to hear the sounds of flowing water-a river perhaps-and had been positively mesmerized by the sound. Unconsciously, his feet began to pull him towards it. It was as if his whole body was eager to discover a limb it had previously lost but had never known it existed.
Eventually, after a couple of minutes of walking, he'd caught sight of the river. And he was hypnotized.
Before a minute could pass, he was already at the side of the river. He felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over him, washing away all his previous anger, all his hopelessness, all his desire--it was...beautiful.
He wanted to be like it.
So he bent over it and he stared. He stared hard at the flowing waves, hoping for some kind of hint as to how to move like it. He stared hard at his own reflection within the water, hoping for some sort of sign that he could do it too.
That he could flow like water.
And then his image in the water...shifted.
Suddenly, he wasn't staring at Jaune Arc, the 8-year old failure swordsman, and Adventurer-hopeful. He was staring at an incredibly familiar man, matching all his features but...older. Far, far, older. He looked to be somewhere in his 20's and then the reflection zoomed out or something. It was like there was a camera that had just panned out and had captured the man standing in this very area.
He had a different blade. Nothing like the one Jaune had used his whole life, and nothing like he had ever seen before. It was a long, somewhat curved red blade with a hilt of wood. The hilt had been wrapped in some sort of cloth and the blade had been marked with a name.
It was a carving, small and out of sight yet so plainly obvious to him. The name was so familiar.The blade was familiar too! For some reason, as he read the name he couldn't help but utter the words as well.
"Harmony..."
He muttered aloud as if the blade would somehow materialize by his side. As if he wanted it--no needed to have it by his side. But it didn't, and he hated it.
The man in the reflection had gripped his sword and begun to...dance? No. This wasn't dancing. He knew this. He's done it before-- no. No, he hasn't, what in the world is happening? It was like he knew what that man was doing; like he'd done it himself a thousand times before! It was maddening. He hated it. He hated it. But he missed it so, so much.
The man in the image had been going through forms so elegantly, so cleanly transitioning from one form to the next, water seeming to materialize and trail his blade, only to disappear the moment it made contact with the ground. It was clear to him now. This man, he had felt it too. And he had achieved it! He...could flow just like the water in the river.
And Jaune. Jaune had stopped looking at the water. He knew what he had to do. No, that wasn't quite right. His body--it already knew it could do it. Or it knew the theory, at least.
He just had to put it into practice!
Jaune stood up straight, and his grip on his wooden sword tightened. His eyes narrowed as he focused on a singular tree, about six? Six-ish meters away from him. His right foot slid forward, with his left foot anchoring itself into the ground. He brought his wooden sword to his left, by his hip, and encircled the blade with his other hand.
In a burst of strength, Jaune pushed his right foot against the ground as powerfully as he possibly could and launched himself towards the tree. His stance had stayed somewhat low and by the time he had to step forward once more, there were only four meters left till he'd bump directly into the tree.
With another mighty step, Jaune had soared another two meters. He began to pull his blade forward, holding it horizontally with his right hand. He took another step when he hit the ground and smoothly let his blade sail towards the tree's trunk, and words he felt like he'd spoken a hundred times before came to mind.
"Water Surface Sl-!"
Unfortunately for Jaune, he misjudged the distance and exactly how many steps he could take. He was also very confused, as, despite his faithful recreation, he still seemed to have been incapable of achieving the same result as the man.
When the man did it, he seemed graceful--and powerful andelegant and incredible--But when he did it himself? He just felt like an idiot, really. He might as well have just run into the tree himself! Save him the pain of feeling like he couldn't do it-No!
He refused to think like that! He could do it! He could do the damn move too! And so, once again, Jaune stoop up straight, slid his right foot forwards, crouched slightly, and shifted his sword next to his left hip once more.
And once again, he launched himself forward, intending to perform the skill with his own two hands. When he brought his sword forward to cut the tree horizontally--he slipped. He had once again failed the skill, but he'd try again!
Once more--one more time, the last attempt, just one more try-! These were all excuses he kept telling himself again, and again, andagain.With every failure, he grew more and more disheartened--yet he also grewdesperate.Desperate to grasp at something--to succeed even once! To walk away from here a winner-a boy who walked in, incapable of performing to a boy who walked with grace and dignity. To a boy who could use his blade to perform in the most graceful of manners--to a boy who could make hisparents proud.
To a boy who could achieve his dream with his own two hands.
And yet the skill eluded him. It eluded him with all its might in tandem with the world--throwing every conceivable thing at him to make it as difficult as humanly possible for him to actuallysucceed!
But there wasnoway he could give up after what he'd seen the man perform. The elegant strokes of his sword, the unfathomable flexibility in his every stance--the elegance of his verybreathing.
He wanted to emulate that. He wanted to move like the man. He wanted his sword to move just as gracefully. He wanted his sword to move just as lethally and cut just as cleanly as the man.
So he steeled himself, stood back up, and practiced once more.