Chaper 1 - The beginning of the way
What is the greatest value for a hunter? Although, however, to be more correct, the question should be asked a little differently. What is the greatest value for any being who has reached a certain threshold of mental and spiritual development.
The greedy would say - material values.
Frivolous - good luck.
Naive or desperate - love.
And they would be... absolutely wrong. It was even nonsense to compare these fleeting concepts with something that really mattered in life.
Style is the Alpha and Omega of everything.
And yet, they should not be blamed for such ridiculous delusions. The narrowness of their outlook, imposed by society, did not allow them to reach this on their own. And in his time, Jaune was no different from this ignorant mass, until he was told about the truth. So simple, but at the same time in such a clear way as a personal example.
His uncle was simply the epitome of style. The way he… did literally anything struck Jaune to the core, finally opening his eyes to his own insignificance. He was a barely perceptible breath of wind against the backdrop of a raging hurricane. But instead of breaking Jaune, this realization spurred him into action. Alas ... but those were catastrophically limited: all he could do was to embark on the path of imitation. A pitiful counterfeit of true greatness... but isn't the counterfeit worthy of at least some praise for its efforts to match the original?
Three priceless recordings of the fight became his teachers. Dozens, if not hundreds of thousands of times, he reviewed each, noticing every little thing. Writing, analyzing and trying to understand.
His uncle's movements, his breathing, his blinking, his gaze, his facial expression - Jaune tried not only to copy them, but to make them part of his essence.
Thousands of repetitions. Thousands of failures. Thousands more ... and more ... and more ... making his way to his goal through sweat and blood, he threw so many peas that the wall in front of him began to crack. Father's admonition, repeated in critical situations, suddenly took on much more meaning. "All you need is a little confidence." He used to repeat it like a mantra, but now… now he really had confidence behind him. Compared to his uncle, Jaune was still a nobody, but compared to his past self, it was just heaven and earth. He no longer looked at the world from the bottom up, having gained enough strength to open doors that were previously unattainable. Even if the "doors" themselves lose their integrity in the process.
And first of all, he decided to supplement his wardrobe with a raincoat, having personally earned the necessary amount. The stimulus was still the imitation of his uncle, but when he tried it on for the first time, he realized how right he was in such a decision.
Jaune seemed to be beginning to blend in with the style. The former timidity that fettered his movements gave way to steel. He was no longer just an imitator - he fully embarked on the path of style. And having learned the basics, the body, having tasted a grain of truth, automatically tried to perform actions as stylishly as possible ... but as soon as one misfire occurred, its nerves seemed to be dipped into boiling tar.
Along with the first success came awareness. Knowing that being stylish isn't a blessing, it's a burden. The burden of those who by their efforts have risen above this world.
Let the childhood dreams have been abandoned, but the intention to enter Beacon has not gone away. It's just that earlier he was going to become a hunter for the sake of banal glory, and now he positioned him as a test of determination. Four years, thousands of people and a path from which Jaune had no right to leave.
Without embarking on the path of style, Jaune would probably just run away from home when it came time to enter. But now? Such thoughts aroused nothing but disgust in him - why would he have to go to the goal in a roundabout way.
On the appointed day, he calmly got out of bed, washed, dressed and went downstairs.
- Are you going to somewhere? his mother immediately asked.
"Going to Beacon," he said clearly, taking the family sword at the same time.
"It's too risky," his father shook his head, immediately being at his side. "I know it was your dream, but I can't let you put yourself in such danger."
"I didn't ask for your opinion," he replied without changing his tone, heading towards the door. His father immediately blocked his path, looking into his eyes.
"You don't even have an aura," it is not known what he saw there, but instead of trying to press with authority, he chose the path of logic.
"I know," Jaune said without looking away.
"The first blow you miss could be your last," he insisted.
"I don't plan on taking hits." Despite the difference in age and life experience, it was his father who first looked away, literally announcing Jaune's victory in the argument.
"I see that you will still do as you see fit," he sighed, to the surprised exclamations of the rest of their family, "I will open the aura for you, but promise that if you fail to do so, you will return back."
"I promise." Jaune didn't worry about having to meet that condition. Because he won't fail. Not when he had style with him.
- You have embarked on a dangerous path, son ... because through death we gain immortality ...
...
There was nothing surprising in the fact that everything went according to plan. And Jaune, with a good many other students, was bullheading towards Beacon. Previously, he could have been so stupid as to surrender to the will of fate, but now, knowing about his illness, he took the pills in advance, avoiding the consequences of motion sickness. He spent absolutely the entire flight in silence: some students looked askance in his direction, but no one dared to speak like that. Jaune himself did not originally plan to do anything like that.
As soon as the door opened like a discordant row, he headed towards the speech. Jaune immediately lagged behind the main crowd, as they, apparently because of impatience, were in a hurry to quickly get to the right place.
But the style was contrary to haste - so Jaune approached the goal slowly, not at all caring about a possible delay. The director's speech was designed for ordinary students - he would not lose anything by not listening to it.
On the way, he came across an entertaining picture of a girl who looked younger than him, lay down on the ground, covering her eyes with her hand, slowly catching up with the bulk of the students.
Jaune passed by indifferently: if someone is lying on the ground, not making any attempts to get up, that's where he belongs.
He got to the right room almost by the end of the speech, but even from such a small piece it was clear that Jaune was not mistaken in his initial judgment. It didn't take long before it was time to get ready for bed. Most of the rest of the students spent the time before lights out making ridiculous attempts to get to know each other or talking to people they already knew. Neither one nor the other concerned Jaune, and apparently it was clear already from his appearance - since no one dared to approach him. Falling asleep just leaning against the wall, in the morning he was able to avoid the queue for the restroom, tritely waking up earlier than the bulk.
The time before the initiation passed quite calmly, except for one episode that happened after returning to the locker to pick up things in advance.
His path was blocked by two figures talking about something. Although it would be more correct to say that only one of them spoke:
"… and therefore we must unite as one team," the short girl finished, waiting for an answer from her companion.
"And you also have to get out of my way," Jaune said before the red haired woman could say anything. Due to the fact that he got into the conversation, the eyes of both girls were focused on him. Surprised and extremely indignant, if you go into specifics.
- Get out of the way? - the short one almost hissed, - do you even know who you are talking to ?!
"Those who prevent me from passing," Jaune replied calmly. And since the words had no effect, he decided to deal with the problem in a more welcome way.
He simply stepped forward, not trying to reduce the contact area in any way. Both girls had to move, which confirmed the effectiveness of the chosen method.
One of the laws of style: either they give it to you, or you take it yourself.
...
"What an ignorant idiot," Weiss Schnee said after high under 2 meters to a large blond, moving away from them, even briefly forgetting about her attempts to recruit her into the team. And let the act of the guy Pirre still seemed unnecessarily rude, but for such a distraction, she was ready to thank him from the bottom of her heart.
Also, from the fleeting glance he threw, it was possible to say with great certainty that he had not heard anything about Pyrrha herself. And it would be really great news if it were not for the behavior he demonstrated and the arrogance that oozed between the lines.
"Ohh, I apologize for such inappropriate behavior," said Weiss, who was standing to her right, "I should have followed your example and simply ignored such an individual.
"I don't like to get involved in pointless conflicts," she replied, tilting her head slightly.
"Yes… this is a wise decision," Weiss nodded and continued smiling slightly, "And although I don't think that someone like him will be able to pass the test, but if this does happen, he will answer for his rudeness already in a duel. The main thing is not to get on the same team.
I think the chances are very small.
...
For the second day in a row, he had to listen to an extremely uninformative and very banal speech. Only after a good five minutes from the beginning, the director gave the go-ahead to start the initiation. Students were launched one by one from the launch pads into the forest for relics.
It was Jaune's turn. He didn't have any pre-arranged landing strategy, but he did have a style that forbade him from imitating some of the other students by screaming frantically and waving his arms. In absolute silence and with absolute indifference, he looked at the approaching earth. The laws of physics said that landing at such a speed, even if he strengthened the body with an aura, threatened with considerable injury. That's just the style did not care about something as banal as physics. And as long as Jaune followed the chosen path and remained stylish, this extended to him.
And so he just landed on his feet without unnecessary movements. Only slightly brushing off the cloak from the rising dust. Having done this all-important action, he met the eyes of the owner of the golden eyes, who was standing not far away.
After a couple of seconds of silence, she said softly:
"Apparently we are now partners," carefully assessing him from head to toe.
"Yes," he said shortly, slowly walking towards the place he had noticed during the flight, where the relics were most likely located.
Was he satisfied with such a partner? Such a question had no answer, but not because Jaune needed to get to know her better. On the contrary, the identity of his partner initially did not matter. On his way, he could rely on himself and only on himself, because there is nothing stylish in lengthy speeches about friendship and mutual assistance. It doesn't matter if it turns out to be useful or lays down ballast - nothing will change for Jaune.
...
Blake thoughtfully walked next to her fallen partner. He was not Weiss Schnee, which already gave him + 10 points in absentia, but otherwise ... he was cold. Even with a wealth of surveillance experience behind her, she couldn't tell anything from his walk other than an already obvious confidence. And judging by the type of landing he chose, it was not sham. Also, he was silent. In another situation, she would write it down as a plus - after all, the lack of the need to maintain a conversation reduced the ability to say something superfluous, but she would still like to know at least something about the person with whom she might spend the next four years.
And was he human?
Tall blond manly face with a height of 2 meters, with a muscular body under a blue cloak.
He did not even tell his name and did not ask her if it could be that he also hides his trait and therefore is extremely wary and does not want to chat in vain. A long cloak could just hide the tail ...
But such a theory did not explain why he walked so slowly. There was no doubt that the number of relics was limited, and passing the entrance test was simply necessary for her.
But maybe he had a reason?
Blake didn't bother to think about it, but she decided to ask cautiously:
"Shouldn't we hurry before the rest of the relics are taken apart?" - she began to wait for an answer, carefully looking at his face in order to make out hidden emotions.
"Hurry." Even though his answer sounded completely indifferent, there were hints of arrogance in it.
OK. Maybe he didn't have any ulterior motives, and he's just an asshole.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. And although Blake really wanted to hurry, but after what was said, it turned out to be beyond her dignity. So they came to a very busy clearing. Hearing the sounds of battle still coming, Blake narrowed her eyes as she looked at the figure of the younger Schnee. Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, Blake reminded herself that she was no longer a terrorist, and that she couldn't just stand by and watch and hope that this death stalker would reduce the population of one particular family by one unit.
...
Jaune identified three of the six students fighting in the clearing. As opponents, they got a rather large grimm scorpion and a giant nevermore circling in the sky. All six of them paused for a moment to look at the arrivals before continuing with what seemed to be a fight in their minds. His newfound partner, whose name he never bothered to ask, took a deep breath, muttered something under her breath, and rushed towards the combatants, drawing weapons along the way.
As expected, a total disappointment.
Unlike other possible first-year students, Jaune did not react in any way to the grimms, still steadily approaching the pedestals with chess pieces: apparently they acted as those very relics.
High above him came a loud croak.
— Watch out! the girl in red suddenly shouted, who apparently still managed to get up from the ground.
Her warning meant nothing to Jaune. Much more was required to even somehow influence his actions.
Three feathers flew inches from the sides of his body, piercing harmlessly into the ground around Jaune.
It seemed even Nevermore was surprised by such impudence. But there was no arrogance in Jaune's actions, only style.
Having reached the pedestal, he indifferently raised the figure of the rook, immediately after that he headed away. Once the task was completed, there was no reason to be here.
Such a decision was again met with incomprehension on the part of the others and with surprised looks crossed on him. And he didn't care again.
"Um, would you like to help?" the blonde yelled at him, dodging the giant stinger's blow to immediately slam her fist into it.
- With what?
- Kill that thing! she shouted.
"Try hitting her harder," Jaune said with a shrug as he walked away.
Either this was karma, or the giant neveromare did not like this disregard for allies, or, most likely, the grimm considered him the most vulnerable target due to separation from the group. Nevermore, having made a turn, sharply went downhill, jerking in his direction. The huge beak was pointed straight at his head.
Jaune had never fought a big grimm before. Still, it's great that he knew what to do in such a situation.
He was part of the style.
Something outside seemed to nudge his hand.
Style was part of it.
Take the blade out of the sheath. Strike. Return to sheath.
The remains of the giant grimm fell to either side of Jaune, splitting right down the middle, immediately beginning to dissolve.
Did Jaune hear it or just the sound of a guitar riff?
...
The figure of a guy standing next to the bullhead, who never introduced himself, was frankly unsettling. Yes, it was pretty cool to have such a big deathstalker in your treasury of victories, but obviously not after a fucking giant nevermore is killed in one hit. Yes, Yang had already understood that Beacon was not a Signal for you, but she obviously did not expect that on the very first day she would be clearly demonstrated. And judging by Pyrrha's furtive glances in his direction, she wasn't the only one who had just experienced a pattern break.
Belatedly, the thought came that when he said: "Hit harder," he really meant it, and did not scoff.
When the seven of them approached, he, without saying anything, plunged into the bullhead. And Yang swore she heard the grinding of teeth from Weiss. And judging by the slight snort from the partner of the "Unnamed", she wasn't the only one who heard it.
Yang deliberately chose a seat next to him to try to get him to talk. Curiosity only killed cats, so she had nothing to fear. It didn't bother her at all that he held the scabbard in his hand instead of hanging it from his belt. Yes, it was easier to fly that way. Exactly.
"That was pretty cool, big guy," she called out to him with a wink as the bullhead rose into the air. It did not escape her attention that the others stopped talking and attentively waited for an answer.
"I know," he answered absolutely indifferently, without even turning his head.
"Hmm... yes." Well, if he thought he could get rid of her like that, he was very wrong. Especially in this situation - you "finished the assignment" so quickly, - she duplicated the quotes with her hands, - that you never had time to get to know everyone.
"I know," came the gnashing of teeth again, but this time Weiss couldn't help it.
"Do you know that in polite society it is customary to introduce yourself, and if ...
"Introduce yourself," he interrupted her. And Yang could not understand, he was pretending and mocking them, or really being like that ... just like that. To pay tribute to Weiss, she took a deep breath and continued almost calmly.
"My name is Weiss Schnee," she said clearly, "and now it's your turn to introduce yourself."
- Not.
- Sorry?
"You think it's my turn to introduce myself, but not me," he explained, looking down at Weiss. To be quite easy with her height.
"And how can we address you," Pyrrha joined in the conversation, trying to bring peace.
"And you don't need to contact me," he said with impenetrable confidence. And now the conversation is dead. And Yang was willing to bet that she wasn't the only one with the question in her head: "What the hell did you even come here for?"
An ironic thought flashed through Pyrrha's mind, that in some sense she had achieved her goal. She was singled out no more than the rest of the students. Because some stood out a lot more. The entire audience watched as Jaune Arc, which was the name of their fourth member of the team, slowly climbed onto the stage when the three of them were already standing there. And probably only being on stage prevented Weiss from telling Jaune what she thinks of him right now.
Principal Ozpin was surprisingly lenient with the student's behavior, as everyone patiently waited for the student to get up on stage.
- Jaune Arc, Blake Belladona, Pyrrha Nikos, Weiss Schnee, from now on you are known as the JWBN team, or Glee, under the leadership of Jaune Arc - probably only two people in the entire audience were not surprised by this turn of events - the director himself and the appointee himself the leader, who still slowly began to walk away from the stage.
- What? - Weiss whispered, opening her eyes wide. And for some reason it seemed to Pyrrha that her reaction had not gone far.
And yet, looking at the receding back of her new leader, she was tormented by another question: "What is he thinking now?"
...
Unable to achieve their own style, they are drawn to someone else's.
It couldn't be called a workout in the usual sense, but to Jaune, it was far more important than even a professional trainer's. A daily reminder that he is only at the beginning of his journey.
Repetition, repetition and more repetition.
Purposefully choosing a place away from prying eyes, Jaune pulled his blade from its scabbard.
Even more riveted looks. Even more motivation to move further along the path of style.
