Author's Notes:
Okay, so, somebody finally made a connection to Fate/Stay Night's Archer - more so that character's philosophy on being a hero. (Fantastic anime series, by the way, check it out. Word of warning, I wouldn't get stuck too far into it. It's like a damn labyrinth but the walls are made of timelines and alternate universes. Might seem a little overwhelming.)
While Jaune retains qualities of that, his character arc isn't solely negative pre-Beacon. I'll say that much, at least.
Also, Qrow isn't just a memory - he's still out there doing whatever Ozpin wants him to. He'll get his time. Jaune's story pre-Beacon is just being told under the pretense of being a couple months prior to the start of the canon timeline.
And almost one hundred follows! That's amazing - thank you guys so much for sticking with my shit lol
Without further ado, we'll get into the story... enjoy the chapter.
Eleven Months to the Start of Beacon
Jaune gasped, desperate to get fresh air into his lungs - beads of sweat dripping from his face like a waterfall. With a roar, he forced off Vul's sword from his own - though he knew that it was only because the older man let him.
"Come on, kid, that all you got? Show me what you can do with that sword of yours!"
"Screw you, Vul! What happened to not wanting to beat the shit out of kids?!" He desperately yelled with no regard for keeping his breathing in check.
Vul gave a simple enough response, "Changed my mind," he shrugged.
The teen's fury remained unrepented after spending an entire month under the man's hellish regime. Sure, the bastard claimed it was because he only had a year on the clock - and while that was partly true, both parties knew that Vul being a prick had a part to play in it.
Dancing backward, Jaune's mentor took a few swift steps further from the exhausted blond, one hand around his back and the other holding his large, steel greatsword casually in the other. That was another thing, he never failed to rub in his face how outclassed he was against him. Jaune got it, damn it! He was a fully-fledged huntsman and the other was a kid with a sword and a dream - unfortunately, that just meant more ammunition for Vul.
Not like he didn't have loads of it already, the tell-tale cogs shifting from the weapon his teacher held were audible across the forest clearing.
Vul scoffed, "Heads up, kid."
Jaune widened his eyes, before tearing his shield upwards with his left arm and taking the brunt of three whole shotgun slugs blasting into the appendage. The sword was a gun - an honest to the gods double-barrelled shotgun. Even with the surface of his shield and his Aura, the force from the shots dug his boots into the ground and pushed him back a meter.
With the short onslaught finished, the young Arc knew better to find respite for even a picosecond - instead flashing the edge of his sword forward to meet the falling figure of Vul, who was crashing down from the skies above him. He followed through with the strike, not wishing to engage in a deadlock with a Vul who had momentum, gravity and mass on his side.
Instead of a clash, the two blades sparked with light fires briefly and with almost unbelievable agility - Vul flipped through the air using the change in momentum of Jaune's defensive manoeuver as a spring-board of sorts before landing perfectly at the side opposite to where he started opening fire. Dramatically, he spread his free arm to his side and Jaune resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Because to do so would be to take eyes off of his opponent.
Lugging the huge weapon over his cloaked shoulder, Vul put his outstretched hand on his hips. Smugly, he spoke, "Not bad, kid. You're a quick learner. Still pretty garbage, but you know. Progress n' all." Trust Vul to manage to sound both honest and patronizing at the same time.
Still breathing heavily, Jaune kept his eyes fixated on every part of his mentor, "Y-yeah? Well, it's not that hard when someone beats it into you…" he panted out.
Vul shrugged, closing his eyes confidently, "What can I say? Pain is a good catalyst for learning." A single eye revealed a crimson iris as he muttered, "Too bad Signal doesn't really get that. And they complain that I drink too much… not like I can do much else to pass the time."
The blond recoiled slightly, looking warily at the greying huntsman, "Gods, I worry for anyone else who has to get taught by you."
"Yeah, well," Vul pointed up at the sky with his left hand, "maybe you should start worrying about yourself first."
"Huh?" Jaune looked up, eyes blinded by the opening within the canopy of the Mistrali forest, revealing a bright light from the sun above. He squinted to get a better look, "What are you even pointing at- ow!"
His own two weapons clattered on the floor, the sound of steel muffled by light grass and dirt; the teen brought both of his hands to cover his nose that was hit by a fist-sized rock of all things. Man, rocks sucked.
Blood leaked profusely from his nose, Aura unable to protect him from the unexpected attack. While Aura did have an unconscious element to it, you had to consciously flow it through your body to get its full effect - something that was drilled into Jaune at the start of his training.
The unconscious flowing of his Aura did not do much against a kilogram of stone that fell from God knows how high.
"S-shit…" Jaune's nasally voice was covered both by his hands and the red liquid that spilled from his nose.
Vul walked nonchalantly to the rock that slammed into Jaune's face, picking it up and inspected its surface. Or, well, the multiple surfaces - seeing as though the rock had shattered into a couple of fragmented chunks. With a shrug and an expression of disinterest, he lobbed the stone over his shoulder and into the forest behind him and began walking towards the blond.
Jaune could have sword he heard somebody curse miles out from the clearing but, in complete Vul-ish fashion, his mentor didn't give enough of a shit to even turn around.
Did he specify how he had spent an entire month with this guy?
Sure, he was strong. Scratch that, Vul was something akin to a monster in human form. Yeah, that fit. Especially if that monster was constantly off its rocker and blitzed beyond belief. He definitely helped Jaune appreciate the feeling of being sober, if anything else.
How could a regular person lug around a blade of solid steel that was the same length and width of an average man and still manage flips and mid-air twirls?
Jaune wasn't sure.
One month wasn't exactly a long time, but it was enough time to notice a semblance of progress. He was coming up on around ten minutes of constant sparring without A: Getting tired, B: Getting his ass handed to him or C: Getting interrupted by an angry farmer, creature of Grimm any similar sort of distraction. If you considered that during his first-ever spar with Vul, the man won by kicking Jaune in the crotch - progress was definitely being made.
…And Vul better be prepared to get a taste of his own medicine - no matter how long it takes. Jaune narrowed his gaze onto Vul's untouched crotch.
However long it takes…
The huntsman noticed his apprentice's gaze and rose an eyebrow, stopping his forward motion, "Uh, kid? My eyes are up here."
"One day…" Jaune said - voice tinted with nasally rage. "One day..."
"Right," Vul blinked. "Well, the river's that-a-way and you better clean up before we head out. I think that we've done enough training for one day."
Jaune mumbled in agreement, picking himself - and his worn steel substitutes - off the ground. Cursing silently at the leaking blood from his nose getting onto the material, he secured the weapons onto his back of his Pumpkin Pete's hoodie and stomped forwards into the direction pointed.
Crocea Mors had been left in the ruins of… ruins of…holy shit.
He didn't even get the name of the village he stayed in. The village where he met Lyn and Pearl. The village where Vul saved his sorry, pathetic ass twice. The very same village he failed to protect Lyn - failing to keep his promise to Pearl. Jaune stopped his trek in unadulterated disgust of himself.
He really was a piece of trash, wasn't he? Unable to keep his own promises, unable to save those who he cared about. What if it came down to saving his family, too? Would his mother's last dying thought be that her own son was too weak to protect her? Gods forbid Amber or Lavender...
No! Stop being an idiot, Jaune. There's a reason you're training with Vul.
But I still let her die.
And you won't let it happen again.
But what if it does happen - and what if I'm not ready?
You will be. There is no other choice.
"You!" A sudden voice, new and wild, reverberated across the trees of the forest. "These ain't your parts of the forest, ya' hear me?! Get! Get or I'll make ya'!"
Vul's cape fluttered as he spun around, eyes wide and scanning the area. Finding a figure squatting on the branches, he rolled his red eyes and scoffed. Some random guy squatting on a tree-branch wasn't about to tell him what to do. Putting a hand on his hips, the huntsman taunted, "Right, sure... you and what army?" A second passed and the grin on his face shattered into a million pieces. "Oh, shit-"
Still holding a sleeve to his nose, Jaune turned around and called out, "Vul, let's just go…" he wasn't really in the mood. "I don't know why you're always trying to get into a f- ah… hah...HAIIEEEE!-"
"-IEEEEEE, GET 'EM BOYS! AYA, AYA, AYAAA!" With the command, dozens and dozens of similarly dressed people in leaf-skirts sprung from who knows where - jumping from branch to branch as the supposed `leader` gave an animalistic war cry.
The teen was a deer in headlights, standing stock-still from the sheer shock of a tribe of forest-people advancing on a huntsman and his apprentice of all people. Only the blur of tattered red broke him out of his trance.
"Run, kid, run!" Vul cried, his weapon still over his shoulder as he dashed desperately deeper into the forest.
"Wh- how- gah! Screw it!" Jaune followed suit, kicking up fallen leaves and grass with each push of his boots. Between gasps, he managed to yell at his mentor, "H-How is it that all of this keeps to you?! The salmon Grimm while we were fishing, our tents catching on fire and now you've managed to anger an entire native tribe of tree-people! All in a month!"
"The trees, kid!" The huntsman shouted, ducking a spear that had an odd tint of purple on the tip. As soon as it hit the ground of the forest, the grass around began to wilt and decay - turning brown and crumbling.
Jaune's eyes were as wide as plates, "What kind of poison even is that?!"
"They're in the trees!"
/-/
They managed to escape. Thank the Gods.
Vul's hands placed on his knees; the man was doubled over and pitifully grasping at whatever air he could get into his throat. Jaune was similar, at least in the air department. He didn't even have the energy to stand, the blood from his nose had long since dried at created a disgusting ring of crusty red on the bottom half of his face.
"Guh..." The greying-huntsman inclined his head slightly towards the collapsed teen. "You didn't get hit, did you...?"
"…No." How nice of him to ask. Struggling to maintain his balance, Jaune attempted to stand and was half successful in the end. As in he made it halfway up before falling again and rolling down the hill that just so happened to be behind him. Just his luck.
"Kid!" Vul darted down the decline in footing, sliding down on his side. Why he was so desperate to keep him alive, Jaune couldn't say, but he was thankful for the man's concern. Even if he most likely was doing it out of either self-interest or self-preservation.
Sometimes the two went hand-in-hand, really.
Nevertheless, he continued, "Hey, you alright? Oh, nice. The river." Vul dove his head into the cool stream of water, despite his obvious need for air mere seconds prior.
"Ugh… nice to know I'm high on your list of priorities."
An unkempt, and now drenched, head of black hair rose from the water with a splash. Letting out a refreshed gasp, Vul said, "Eh, you'll be fine. Probably. Say, you did pretty well back there - dodging those spears 'n such."
Yeah, most people would strive to do that when put in that situation, Jaune liked to think. But his mentor appeared to be in something of an enlightened state, blood-red eyes widening in a manic fashion.
"Hey, Vul, are you… alright?"
Vul rose from the bank and began muttering, "So you're a kid with Aura that makes you a steel wall, but what good is that if you constantly get pummelled and pummelled by steel, claws and dust? If anything that just makes you a glorified human punching bag…"
"I don't like where this is going," Jaune mumbled in response from his position on the grassy embankment.
"That means… that means we gotta make you faster." With devilish speed and an even more devilish smile, Vul drew his massive weapon and stabbed it directly into Jaune's head. Or, at least, where Jaune's head would have been if the teen didn't roll out of the way. Fast? Fast?! That was way past fast! He almost lost his head!
Again!
"Eep! W-wait a second! Weren't we just done running from a tribe of tree-people? Why are we doing more running?!" His lungs were on fire, begging for respite as the teen stumbled to his feet and backstepped from his crazed teacher. "I thought you said we were done with training for today!"
The gears in his weapon whirled to life, shifting and changing the blade into something Jaune will never unsee.
A god-damn scythe.
The man in front of him turned his weapon into a scythe. Why did he have a greatsword, a shotgun and a scythe for a weapon?! Who even uses those things to kill with? Apart from the Grim Reaper, anyway. Well, Jaune's reaper was right in front of him and the situation most certainly looked grim.
"I changed my mind." That bastard- "Now, dodge!"
Dodge Jaune did, falling over backward and rolling to avoid the reaping of his entrails. "How are you even supposed to dodge a scythe?" He whispered to himself - panting harshly, eyes trailing upwards to keep track of his opponent's movement. The movement was clumsy and not at all coordinated, but whatever kept the blood inside of his body, thank you.
"You're doing a great job so far, kid." Vul twirled his scythe behind his back - spinning inward and outward, the edge of the weapon was mesmerising to the teen. Jaune swallowed. His mentor's smile matched the smile of the scythe. "Keep it up."
Groaning, Jaune pushed himself off of the ground - wiping away the crusted crimson around his mouth. Vul smirked, giving a silent chuckle as he shook his head. There was only one way to get stronger, to stop the deaths of those he cared about.
If the only way he was getting to Beacon was through this borderline-insane, gravelly-voiced, tackily-dressed drunkard of a huntsman…
Well, Jaune would take his chances.
With a crazed smile of his own, Jaune smirked in the best way he could - battered, broken, bloodied but determined. Taking a deep breath, he rose his head upwards and dropped it with his breath - eyes hardened underneath his dirtied blond locks.
"Bring it."
"Hmph. Wonder where all this bravado came from, kid? Finally found your balls?"
"Nope. Still at your mom's."
To his credit, Vul paused before slamming the hilt of his scythe into the grass and bursting out in husky laughter. "You're a fast learner, kid, a real fast learner." His weapon spun around in another beautiful rotation - stopping as the top was aimed at Jaune's neck. "But I think it's time we see how fast you really are."
The answer was not very. Both sides knew that. But despite it, Jaune stood his ground as the huntsman burst forward at unbelievable speeds. All he had to do was take a step.
…
Oh shit.
He couldn't move his body.
It seemed as though all the physical activity not half an hour prior had taken its toll on his mortal form. Jaune's body had apparently shut down his connection to his muscles - not trusting the teen to use his access to them responsible. Damn it, biology!
He wanted to scream at his mentor, but couldn't find his own voice; the scythe already closing in onto his neck. The blond shut his eyes and wished for the darkness to take over - to soften his impending doom.
And, sure enough, complete black came over his vision.
/-/
Why wasn't the kid moving?
As Qrow sped towards his target, Harbinger spun dangerously around his body.
Was it some sort of ploy? It had only been a month, there was no way he had already learnt about making his opponent feel overly confident in an attack; that was at least number thirty-eight on the list.
They were still in the first five.
Seeing him close his eyes tightly and grit his teeth was the first sign that something was amiss. But with the swing already in motion, aimed straight at the neck - Qrow could only do so much to mitigate the damage. His intention was never to actually hit the kid with the scythe, only make it seem like the danger was there so that he dodged. Or, at least attempted to.
Because if he at least did that, he would have been fine.
Looks like that was about to change.
Within the small frame of time he was given, the huntsman flipped Harbinger onto its flat surface and moved his weapon up so that he would strike the poor guy's temple instead of his neck.
Of course, the teen was sent flying backward but if he still had Aura - a bruise or bump on his head was the worst he would wake up with. Maybe a ringing headache, too. He crashed into the nearby incline, kicking up dirt and dust at the impact.
He didn't think he had Aura left.
Eh, he'll be fine. Probably.
Qrow could feel a headache of his own start to act up. "Ah, shit…" Harbinger's hilt was placed onto the grass one more. "I guess that means we're done with training for the day."
It seemed like a good idea. The kid rolled down onto the floor, against the incline they had slid down earlier - drool flowing out of the side of his mouth and chest rising and lowering rhythmically. Okay, great, he wasn't dead. Qrow had to count his eggs before they burst into flames, as you do.
"Why am I even doing this?" The huntsman put a hand to his face, eyes buried into his palm before he let out an explosive, alcoholic sigh.
Ruby had been enough. The incessant begging from his cute, tiny niece plus Tai's pleading in the form of bribery and many, many, bottles of whiskey. Vul's sigh turned into a small chuckle. The only time Tai ever encouraged his vice was for his daughter's sake.
Through his fingers, Qrow turned a gaze to the teen lying several meters away from him - who was knocked out six different ways of cold. Crimson eyes bored onto his unconscious form. Jolly ol'Nick's kid, then?
Nicholas was a real piece of work back at Beacon. A real stickler for family pride and honour - to the point where it got under the skin of even his sister Raven. The only other person to do that was Tai himself.
The huntsman chuckled at his own joke.
Papa Arc's honour-bound attitude was something he eventually grew out of - with the meeting of his eventual wife, Juniper. But even in his little phase, the drive to save was something that was non-negotiable about his spirit.
It was something he saw in Summer. Something he saw in Ruby.
And something he saw in Jaune.
He removed his hand from its sprawl across his face and walked toward the kid. Right now, he was just that. A kid with a sword and a dream. But Qrow would do everything he could to make him a huntsman, not a hero.
There were no heroes out there.
And while he could never tell Ruby that, he felt as though it was something that Nicholas' kid would understand through experience. Sometimes Ruby was too much like her mother for her own good.
Qrow shook the thought from his head, instead laying eyes on the hoodie that the teen below him wore.
"Now," he said quietly, admiring the bunny on the blond's hoodie, "where the hell am I going to find you some armour?"
Jaune gasped, desperate to get air in his lungs - water and toothpaste dripping from his chin as he choked.
Dumb oral hygiene. Hopefully, his Sapphire or her mother didn't hear him think that.
He had put his toothbrush a little too deep down the back of his tongue, triggering his gag reflex. While the teen was most-definitely used to waking up in the early hours of the morning, that most-definitely didn't mean that he had to like it. Jaune put his toothbrush onto the bathroom countertop, swiping at the glass on the table to rinse out the remaining substances within his mouth.
Left side, right side, gargle…
"You know, a whole-lotta girls would find that to be a huge turn-off." The feminine voice giggled manically. "I'm pretty sure that goes for guys too." They did? How… wait.
Feminine?
The blond did a spit-take all over the bathroom mirror - water mixed with toothpaste and saliva creating a pattern that probably would have sold well at an art gallery if it wasn't made of… well, spit.
"Who the hell are you?" Jaune backed up against the bathroom counter, which spanned several meters across the area. He turned, only to meet the face of a cyan-eyed, ginger-haired girl with a bad case of crazy eyes staring directly into his own.
"Well, that's just rude!" The girl yelled, despite it being extremely early in the morning. It was inhuman how anybody could have this much energy at this time of day. "This is a public space, after all."
He shook his head wildly as if trying to forcibly extract the thought from his memory banks. "This is the boys' bathroom!" Beacon was insane enough to have a unisex slumber party, but Gods forbid there being unisex bathrooms full of hormonally imbalanced teenagers. Why?
Case in point - right in front of Jaune.
A figure further down the long countertop was calmly brushing his own teeth, vibrant pink-eyes flickering to Jaune and his assailant. They returned to the mirror soon enough, however, the back and forth motion of his hand slowly came to a halt - gaze snapping back. They widened, which was admittedly was not by a large amount (and Jaune didn't think that was racist, just pointing out the facts), as the black-haired teen bolted to the scene and leaving his toothbrush in the sink.
"Oh, heya, Renny! I was just- whoop!" The hyperactive girl was taken by the shoulders and spun backward, the other boy taking her place in front of Jaune.
Getting a head-on view of the new appearance, Jaune was able to more clearly pinpoint the teen to be eastern Mistrali in descent. If his facial features and exotic eye-colour weren't enough - his traditional green gi, patterned with black and trimmed with gold, most definitely was.
"I apologise for my friend," he said with a scarily soft tone of voice, "she has been like this since youth. I would know, seeing as though I spent most of my own with her."
Jaune stared down the boy warily. Giving the eastern teen a quick up and down, he was still extremely eager to know, "Why is she in the boy's bathroom?" Indeed, it was the question that desperately required an answer - or so Jaune thought.
The other sighed, rubbing a hand into his hair, "She was extremely insistent on spending the morning with me, seeing as we've known each other for years, and I didn't see a problem with it since it was so early in the morning."
Well, Jaune heavily disagreed with that sentiment.
He then extended the same hand to Jaune, "Quite evidently, I see now that was a lapse in my judgment. My name is Ren. Lie Ren. My friend here is-"
"Nora Valkyrie, at your service!" The now identified Nora had appeared next to Ren, putting her own hand behind her friend's - creating something of a double hand for Jaune to shake - all the while giving an energetic smile. Her other hand was in a faux-salute as she stemmed from over Ren's shoulder.
He couldn't explain it, but Jaune was strangely endeared by the sight before him.
The only blond between the three took the hands offered to him, introducing himself. "Jaune," he smiled. "Jaune Arc. It's nice to meet you…?"It came out as more of a question, really.
As soon as they interlocked palms, Nora fiercely began to shake with a monstrous amount of strength. Jaune almost fell over at the swift change in momentum.
Ren looked apologetic, chuckling as he spoke, "Likewise. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Jaune; even if we were to have met under other circumstances I am almost certain that it would have ended up like this anyway.
Thankfully, Nora stopped her vicious shaking, disappearing in a pink and white poof - reappearing behind Jaune. She leaned in with a hand covering Ren's view of her mouth, but speaking loud enough for him to hear, "That's a good thing, Jauney! Can I call you Jauney?"
"I-"
"Jauney it is! I'll see you around, Jauney! Come on, Ren, let's see if they got pancakes for breakfast." Before he could even answer, Nora vanished once more next to her friend - wrapping her arm into Ren's and began to drag him out of the bathroom. While she hummed a jolly tune, the eastern teen dipped a hand into the sink he was once at to retrieve his toothbrush and waved weakly to the blond.
Watching the two slowly leave was most definitely a solemn sight. Jaune had no idea how that boy - no, man - could have lived out his life with a… a Nora.
He gave Ren the only gesture that seemed appropriate. With a stern glare and furrowed brows, the teen gave the brave solider a salute. Ren stopped waving, looking at him like he did something wrong, before eventually shaking his head and returning the gesture as he was removed from Jaune's line of sight.
What a man.
He finished up his early morning freshening, wiping away his spit from the mirror with a grimace and patted down his trouser pockets for his scroll. Having already changed out of his pyjama's, Jaune thought that heading out to check his gear would have been a better use of his time - the Gods knew he sure had a lot of it. And while Ren and Nora were seemingly going out to get breakfast, the blond had very much gotten used to working efficiently with a small amount in his gut to work with.
Clad only in his worn Pumpkin Pete's hoodie, black combat trousers and tightly laced boots, Jaune felt prepared enough to head out.
"Alright, Beacon," he muttered, making his way out of the bathroom and heading towards where he knew the lockers were, "let's see what else you have in store for me."
/-/
"…and that is why I believe we should be partners. What do you think, Pyrrha?"
She thought it was absolutely- "Grand. That sounds… splendid, Weiss."
Weiss Schnee closed her eyes, mouth turned into a small smile as she replied - oblivious to Pyrrha's own discomfort. "Why, I knew that you'd understand… you really are just on another level than some of the other people here." Her smile turned to a frown as she slouched slightly as if thinking about someone who fit the description.
Pyrrha, on the other hand, grimaced internally while keeping her own smile on the outside.
On another level? She came to Beacon to be treated less like some untouchable goddess of the arena and more like a… well, anything but that. Perhaps it was wishful thinking to believe that her fame wouldn't have spread to Vale. Even Atlas had heard of her. It could have just been Weiss herself, but that didn't seem likely.
And her discomfort was not directed at Weiss either. She was a nice enough girl, at least to her, if a little rough on the edges. It was more so that her conversations always revolved around her skill and position as the four-time Mistral Regional Champion. Something that the champion herself wasn't too keen on as a main topic of discussion.
"I don't think that-" She trailed off, hearing a masculine voice cut into the two girls' conversation. It was quiet, but the sound caught Pyrrha's ear nonetheless.
"Locker six-three-six, locker six-three-six…" Behind Weiss was a tall, blonde-haired teen - taller than Pyrrha herself with her heels. In his right hand was a scroll, which he seemed to be inspecting quite thoroughly, while the other lay on his chin.
His head flickered upwards to the locker nearest to him, moving forward to inspect the number. "Two-two-one? What the- I swear this was the same route from yesterday." Those same sapphire eyes turned to meet Pyrrha's own, then moving to the white head of hair in front of her - to which he widened his eyes and started walking over.
Weiss, of course, was less than interested in some random person - instead continuing her conversation with the red-head.
Crossing her arms, the heiress of the SDC had a distasteful tint in her eye as she spoke, "Honestly, you would not believe the kind of people they let into Beacon. Just yesterday I saw a child - yes, a child - running across Beacon's courtyard like some sort of playground! Can you believe it?"
"Perhaps it was just a short girl with a speed Semblance?" Pyrrha tried.
In return, Weiss rolled her eyes, their gaze coming down back onto the floor with a hazed - almost confused - look. "Then the very same night of that day, she spoke profoundly about the philosophy of becoming a huntress." She scoffed soon after, "It's wonder why she had to be saved by that boyfriend of hers after she blew up my dust supply."
"Well, it was an accident. And I am not her boyfriend…"
Weiss gasped as she jumped back, drawing her rapier in the process. The chamber within the guard spun rapidly, landing on red - forcing the patterns on the weapon to glow an ominous crimson. The figure behind her raised his hands in surrender, cringing at how close the blade was to his neck.
"…Arc? Why on Remnant are you here at this time of day? And don't you know it's rude to sneak up on people?" The girl questioned.
His irises flashed down to the tip of Weiss' rapier and back up to her rapidly, eyes pleading. She narrowed her gaze before sheathing it, the colour of the weapon fading as it was no longer needed.
`Arc` let out a breath, lowering his hands as he answered back, "I'll have you know I wasn't sneaking up on you, Ice Queen, I thought that I made my presence here pretty clear." His tone of voice was factual - and somewhat snarky. Pyrrha did have to agree that he made himself loud enough to be noticed, at the very least. He then cringed as Weiss stomped her foot the to ground and onto his own boot. No doubt, the heel was stuck into it roughly.
"Ow, ow, ow!" He whimpered.
"Ice Queen? Why, you-"
"Now, now," It was Pyrrha's turn to intervene. She didn't want to cause a ruckus this early in the morning, that was for sure. "Why don't we all take a breath and start over? Perhaps we got off on the wrong…" She considered the wording, giving into the low hanging fruit, "foot."
The heiress looked back at the champion, eyes widening and mouth opening in confusion before she did just that - turning around and breathing in deeply. She crossed her arms stiffly, pivoting on her heel as she glared at the new arrival - trying once more at addressing him.
"What do you want, Arc?" She sneered, nose in the air.
"Not quite what I was going for…" Pyrrha mumbled, her voice in a jovial tone despite her plan to get Weiss to act nicer backfired on her. She really should have taken into account that Weiss may make things worse by starting it all over.
His eyes glossed over Pyrrha, as if looking for something, before he addressed Weiss once more. "I was just wondering if you two could help me find my locker. I've never really had a knack for directions." He grimaced, appearing to be looking back on a past experience. Shaking his head, he continued, "So would you know where locker six-three-six is?"
Weiss looked like someone had shown her a picture of a particularly-shaped piece of dog excrement. "We're in a single room and you can't find your locker? You realise that they're all ordered by number, right?"
The blond looked to the locker to his side and the one after it, then onto his scroll, then back at Weiss. "They are?" Was his very contrite answer.
The Schnee heiress facepalmed, looking all but given up as she began to angrily mutter to herself about `idiot blondes` and the like.
Pyrrha sighed, hands interlinked in front of her as she took center stage, "This is the row with the number ones at the start, see?" She pointed at the nearest locker, which read `one-four-three`. The same hand pointed in a gap between the lockers opposite. "Keep going along and you'll find the row starting with sixes. With enough luck, you should find your own locker there."
He looked at her in disbelief, almost in awe - making Pyrrha regret her interjection into the conversation. Regardless, she kept her smile plastered onto her face as she internally winced, waiting for his reply.
"Wow. Thanks."
Was… that it? Was that all he had to say? Her emerald eyes found itself on Weiss, who's own eyes conveyed disbelief through the fingers of her facepalm.
Pyrrha prayed that she wouldn't regret asking, "Do you... know who I am?"
The boy's expression was confused, his eyebrow raised slightly. His mouth was pressed into a thinking pout, of sorts, to the side of his face. "Hm…" he said, "I can't say I do… should I?"
"Oh. My. God." Weiss cursed into her palm. Pyrrha couldn't relate, she was ecstatic! This boy didn't even know who she was - he was someone who could treat her like a regular person, a regular girl! The champion could barely contain her bright smile - her real smile.
"Wait, now that you mention it…" Or not. The smile that bloomed wilted back to plastic, not that anyone could tell just by looking at her. But she could feel the glimmer of her soul dim as the thought drifted away. The blond clicked his fingers, "Beauty model."
The red-head perked her head back up, not knowing whether to be joyful or confused. Perhaps she could be both. While her agent definitely attempted to get her to accept the deals of numerous companies, she made it a point to stay adamant about not wanting to model.
She loved the fight and the pure exhilaration with no care for everything that came extra. "Excuse me?"
He took in a sharp breath through his teeth, creating something of hissing noise, "I'll take that as a no, then. Damn, I thought you looked like you could have fit the bill."
"E-excuse me?" Pyrrha managed. Weiss spluttered, thankful that her palm was in front of her mouth at the time. Was he… flirting with her? No, he couldn't have been. Simply stating facts.
Then did that mean he thought it a fact she was pretty enough to be a beauty model?
The boy paused, taking a second to realise what exactly he said. His deep-blue eyes were wide in shock, "Hold on! That's not what I meant! I mean you are pretty, it's just- crap…" he seemingly gave up on trying to explain himself.
"It's… alright." It's not that Pyrrha didn't appreciate the compliment or anything.
He took another look at the champion, of which he seemingly didn't even know she was, his look narrowing - examining every inch of her. It made the red-head slightly uncomfortable, but it wasn't that bad. Moving forward, he gently brushed past Weiss - something the heiress didn't take lightly - to get a closer look.
"Holy crap, you're-" Pyrrha's eyebrows flattened. Wishful thinking it most definitely was. Just when she thought she had found someone who- "the girl on the cover of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmellow Flakes cereal!"
It was apparent that Weiss had enough, as her voice cut in like a very shrieky and very high-pitched knife, "What are you even talking about, you dunce! She's the fo-" Her light-blue eyes expressed bewilderment, her voice wasn't coming out as she meant it to. The reason being, Pyrrha's brown-gloved hand was firmly placed over her mouth.
"What Weiss means to say is that `she's the fo-rtunate person who was chosen to be on the cereal box`! Isn't that right, Weiss?" The champion slowly removed her hand from the very confused heiress' mouth. Pyrrha mouthed `I'm sorry` silently as she did.
"Yes," Weiss agreed, keeping her eyes on Pyrrha. "That is exactly what I meant to say."
"That's amazing!" The action didn't seem to faze the boy, though. "Don't they normally only do that for star athletes and celebrities, though?"
"Oh, you know, just the small tournament here and there is enough to get you on anything these days as long as it's in the right timeframe," the champion waved off. Please work, please work, please work-
"Yeah, I guess you're right," the boy agreed. Yes! "It's a shame really. I haven't gotten to have any for what feels like an entire year."
"Perhaps that is for the best. I do have to admit, the cereal is quite bad for you," she lamented.
"It might not be good for you, but there is absolutely no denying that it's good." The blond shrugged his shoulders, bringing to attention the logo at the forefront of his hoodie.
Pyrrha had to ask, only vaguely aware of what it was, "Is that the-"
"Limited edition Pumpkin Pete's Marshmellow Flake's hoodie - large size? Yes. Yes, it is." He shut his eyes proudly and Pyrrha did have to admit it was quite adorable how he was so invested in the brand.
"That is the one where you-"
"Collect fifty box tops spanning across three different variations of the cereal and mail it to Pumpkin Petes Pumpkin Patch Headquarters in Mistral? Yes. Yes, it is."
Silence came over the two, the only other sound being skin rubbing against skin as Weiss furiously ran her hand up and down her face. It didn't last long, however, as Pyrrha (unsuccessfully) stifled a giggle behind her glove.
It faded, and the champion's voice was soft - almost as if she was in the middle of a thought. "You really are a fan of the cereal, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am," Was his reply. Just the cereal. Not her, but the cereal itself. A warm smile - a genuine smile - came across Pyrrha's features - the plastic of the previous ripped away. "My mother always used to bring it home from work and me and my sisters would just tear into the boxes."
"Sisters?" Her emerald eyes shone, happy for someone to finally talk about themselves and not about her success as a fighter.
The boy placed his hands on his hips as he stated, "Seven." His eyes closed, seeming almost proud of the fact.
"Seven? You're joking."
"Oh, I wish I was," he paused, expression turning sullen for but a moment. "I take that back…" he corrected, "I wouldn't swap them out for anything in the world."
"That's so sweet," she said truthfully, head tilting slightly to the side. Hesitantly, her hand reached out to his shoulder, looking into his eyes, "Why don't you tell me about them?"
His blue eyes regained their gemstone-like glint, "Yeah, I think… I think I'd like that." Pyrrha retracted her hand, gesturing for him to start. "Well, there's the eldest of all of us, Sapphire…"
/-/
"…and that's why we believe that strangers are friends that you just haven't met yet," he finished with a proud smile. The two were still standing, deep in an interactive conversation about his family and their outlook on life.
"That was quite the story," The red-head said, recalling his multiple tales. So his ancestors were taken in by a foreign, but extremely powerful individual in their time of desperate need - prompting their descendants to follow suit. How interesting. "Wouldn't you agree, Weiss?"
"Huh?" The heiress sat up ramrod straight from her lying position on the bench in the middle of the aisle. During Pyrrha's riveting interaction, she had grown tired of being the third wheel so early in the morning. Her sitting turned to her getting some shut-eye instead and the champion couldn't help but find it quite amusing.
"Y-yes, of course, Pyrrha. Very-" Weiss yawned, putting her hand to her mouth, "-very interesting indeed.
"Holy crap!" The blond yelled suddenly, causing Weiss and Pyrrha to flinch.
"What's wrong?"
He pointed to his scroll, showing that hours have passed by. Pyrrha could have sworn it was only a fifteen-minute or so conversation but her own eyes widened in realisation.
"We're late! And I still don't have my stuff! I'll, uh, catch you around..."
"Pyrrha," she completed.
"See you, Pyrrha. Buh-bye, Ice Queen!" He bolted past her and across the aisle - boots tapping heavily on the floor - taking a sharp turn where there was a gap in the lockers to get to where Pyrrha told him his own locker would be.
Her gaze was solemn as the red-head watched him go. "Bye…" she waved to nobody in particular. Her hands then interlinked once more in front of her skirt as she turned to head to where Initiation would take place, only to meet the face of a Weiss with an eyebrow raised so high - it would make other people's eyebrows rise at the sight.
"With Arc. Jaune Arc? Really, Pyrrha, you can do so much better than that." So his name was Jaune Arc? It had a nice ring to it. Short and sweet, rolling off the tongue in a way.
But Pyrhha couldn't help but twitch - her mask cracking; her facade breaking. Slowly but surely, fragments of the plastic visage she had built up over the years began to fall from her face.
Maybe it was the tone of her voice, maybe it was what she said, but whatever it was - it made something snap within Pyrrha. She wasn't one for outbursts, let alone one against a girl she had just met, however, the champion couldn't help but feel... offended.
Something foreign bubbled up within the depths of her stomach, vile and ugly.
"And since when were you the one to decide who I can and cannot talk to, Mother?" She said sternly, eyes sharp like daggers - stabbing into the other girl's soul. Weiss took a step back, no doubt unexpecting of Pyrrha's words.
Green irises opened, eyebrows raised, lips trembling, "Weiss, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No," the heiress said, regaining herself. "No, it was my fault. I'm sorry, Pyrrha. That was out of line of me to say." And for whatever reason, both girls couldn't meet each other's eyes. Even if they did both have an understanding of why. "How about we get to Initiation, then? It wouldn't do to be late after we both woke up so early?"
"Of course," Pyrrha stepped to the side, gesturing a hand in front of her towards the exit - wanting Weiss to lead on. "That sounds grand."
Grand indeed.
/-/
Alright.
Tightening the last of his reinforced leather pads across his body, Jaune began to count up the number of labelled canisters on the belts around his torso, waist and around the top half of his thigh. "One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two… where's the last-? Eh." He instead shrugged it off. The misplacement of a single piece of equipment could cause his death on the field, or so Vul says, but this was Beacon's Initiation. He was hardly going to get mortally wounded here, right? Right.
Shrugging off the missing grenade, Jaune instead focused on the two boxes that had handle grips sticking out towards him, ready to draw. Those were present too, all that was left was…
The teen's eyes were drawn to the last weapon that lay within his locker. Nodding, he took the sheathed blade in his right hand, looking over its surface, "Well, time you and me show everyone what we're capable of, right buddy?" Jaune kept staring at the brilliant piece of steel before shaking his head. "Just a sword, Jaune. Just your… family heirloom sword that has persisted over centuries. …"
On his left metal bracer was a small slot, in which Jaune slid Crocea Mors into so that the hilt faced outwards - ready to draw at a moment's notice. It was something that Vul had suggested once he had once again found his weapon in the ruins of that town. Even a year later, Jaune's heart dropped along with his head at the thought.
Time heals all wounds, huh? Maybe if he was stronger…
Don't be an idiot.
You're stronger now.
You went through hell's gauntlet with a caped, insane alcoholic with obvious issues.
You're at Beacon, the place where you always dreamed of going.
It wasn't for nothing. Prove it to them.
No.
He'd prove it to all of them. He'd prove it to himself.
With a satisfying click, Crocea Mors was secured and ready. Giving his locker a final look, the slight glint of white drew his attention. Dipping his hand within the metal contraption, his fingers clasped around the small accessory - a small, crooked cross with a ring around the top to pierce the bottom of his ear. It was the Vul's parting gift to him just before he left to trek Forever Fall to Beacon.
Jaune could have put it on in the moment, however, a quick glance at his scroll proved that to be a false notion. Clasping his hand into a fist, the teen held the earring tightly in his palm and shut his locker. He could always put it on later.
Now happy with his gear, the blond nodded with a newfound determination. All he had to do was run like no tomorrow to the cliffside where Professor Ozpin would give them the debrief on what exactly was to happen. And run Jaune did, footsteps echoing loudly in the locker room where a few other latecomers were doing just the same.
Something about that man, caught Jaune's attention, however.
Not just his Aura, which was compact, condensed and repelling of sorts - but his voice as well. Jaune didn't have the best memory, but such a tone of voice was one that he must have heard before - even if he didn't know where. Was it before or after his training?
Maybe he was reading too much into it, the man was the headmaster of the prestigious Beacon Academy, it was possible Jaune had heard him idly on TV once or twice.
But it came back to his Aura, why exactly did it have that effect on him? It had never happened before, not with anyone. It was common knowledge, or at least he was told it was by Vul, that Aura was the outward manifestation of the soul.
It begged the question, what did it mean for the Headmaster's soul to be so… full?
Explaining the metaphysical was something that Jaune wasn't versed in. He just sort of understood it, in a way. Putting it in words was so much harder. If only he-
"Oof!" He moaned, hitting something in his way as he made to turn the corner toward the exit.
"Ah!" Or someone, it seemed; a feminine voice cried softly as both she and Jaune hit the floor.
It didn't hurt, per se, it just knocked him backward and straight onto his ass. Getting a look at who exactly he, quite literally, bumped into - it was the same girl from last night that was with Ruby, Weiss and Yang. She wore black and white as well as having that same bow from the sleepover. Her name was…
"Blake?" Jaune guessed, voice quizzical and hesitant. It sure would be awkward if he got it wrong.
The black-haired girl took longer to recover, eyes scrunched up like she smelt something that expired. Slowly opening her own, amber regarded him, "It was… Jaune, right? From last night, Ruby's friend?"
He shuffled as he made to stand, debating whether or not he should offer a hand to her. In the end, his inner gentleman won out as he extended a gloved hand for Blake to take.
"Yeah…" Jaune said, "that's me." His voice now was slow. Blake took the hand with quiet thanks and Jaune pulled her onto her feet. If this conversation lasted any longer, Jaune knew that he had to be careful about what he said and how he said it.
Blake nodded, about to whirl around to exit the locker room until her golden eyes fixated onto the floor, a slight glimmer gaining her attention. "You dropped this," she noted, making to bend down and pick it up for Jaune.
"No!" His hand sped forward and grasped tightly around Blake's black-wrapped forearm, to which he quickly released after realising what he just did. The girl retracted her own arm, cradling it with her free hand. Jaune only had one word in his mind.
Shit.
So, he'd gone against one of Vul's core teachings - keeping a cool head and not letting your emotions get the better of you. But that didn't mean that he couldn't correct himself with another one of his mentor's other fundamental lessons.
Sometimes a smooth tongue was all you needed to get out of a sticky situation.
Okay, so maybe Vul had been drunk at the time of saying this and it was entirely possible that he was most certainly not referring to talking your way out of bad cases but damn it, Jaune would take what he would get from his teacher's - at times - nonsensical advice.
Jaune steeled himself, swallowing the slightest amount of saliva in his mouth. Blake, on the other hand, looked at Jaune with an air of suspicion. Her eyebrows narrowed slightly, and the slow rubbing of her forearm began to cease.
"It's just that it's a gift from someone really important to me," Jaune said, wondering how vague or specific he should be. If he was too vague, Blake may call him out, but if he was too specific, he may get muddled in the details. "I'd rather you not touch it."
The girl's eyes darted to the earring that Jaune had his hand over. The teen was now kneeling over it, waiting for Blake to respond so that he could make his next move.
"Right… I'm sorry, I guess." She wasn't and they both knew it. "I'm going to head to Initiation."
"Yeah. I'll see you there."
"Yeah." Sure enough, Blake gave Jaune a side-glance, golden eyes almost glowing, before her shoes tapped away swiftly - getting quieter with every step.
The teen breathed a sigh of relief, coming out as a hiss between his teeth. That had been way too close for comfort. He picked up the fallen earring and began to fasten it to his ear. "Stupid earring, stupid Vul, stupid luck…"
With the parting gift now secure in his ear, he followed where Blake went - to where he could see the green of a forest spanning across the entire horizon of a large, open door frame.
/-/
"With all that said, the first person that you make eye-contact with will be your partner for the next four years."
A resounding `What?!` could have been heard all the way from Vale proper. The blonde woman next to Professor Ozpin, Glynda Goodwitch, visibly shook her head in an exasperated manner, holding a monitor against her chest.
With an ever-present smile, Ozpin looked immensely pleased with himself as he finished, "So, are there any questions?" He looked back and forth at the hundreds of applicants, only to find a single hand raised. His eyes studied the hand before trailing down the arm to the person who it belonged to. How interesting.
"Yes, Mister Arc?"
Jaune Arc's arm came back to his front, as he asked, "So you're going to launch us off of this cliff?" The teen's hand pointed a finger into the almost infinite canopy of leaves and branches in the distance behind the older man.
"That is correct."
"And you aren't giving us anything to help us?
Well, that would go against what he aimed to do here - obviously, Ozpin would not. "No, Mister Arc, you will be devising your own landing strategy."
One of the boy's hands came to the back of his head, "Wouldn't, uh… wouldn't a drop from this high kill a person without Aura? Like, a regular guy? Even then, if you landed wrong you would still probably end up heavily injured."
"Of course it would." Ozpin raised an eyebrow, "Where exactly are you going with this, Mister Arc?"
He seemed to recoil slightly under the headmaster's words but continued nonetheless, "It's just that if some hopeful guy who managed to fake his transcripts to get into Beacon and was launched from a cliff this high and, well… died - wouldn't that the fault of the school for not stopping them? And if not, doesn't that kind of put into question the policy of the school itself?"
Beacon operated an arms-length away from the Kingdom of Vale's council, instead of functioning under Ozpin and his own faculty instead. Even so, if a decision was heavily enough backed, they could cross that short distance if they tried.
Ozpin had never, and had no plans to, let that happen - however. The council could try all they wanted, but they would never succeed. He would make sure of that. The headmaster regarded the boy with the same blank stare and the words kept on flowing out of the young boy's mouth.
Jaune crossed his arms, adopting a more thoughtful look as his blue pupils darted to the top of his eyes, almost having his own epiphany of sorts, "I mean, some people here have fancy Semblances or weapons that can turn into, like, six different things. What if someone here had Remnant's most mundane Semblance - say, one that let them create tiny rocks out of Aura - and a dagger. Wouldn't they just be completely screwed too?"
The headmaster tilted his head to the side by half of a degree, still smiling.
"I just think that this could have been more inclusive, you know? Some kids are out there with dreams of becoming a huntsman, and I think this kind of limits who can and can't follow their dreams. As aspiring huntsman and huntresses, shouldn't we be able to encourage those kind people without throwing them straight into the deep end when the gods give them iron boots to wear?"
A few people around the boy turned from the teen to Ozpin, eyes all asking the same question. Even Glynda shot him a raised eyebrow. In response, the headmaster instead took a sip from his inscribed mug - releasing a satisfied sigh at the end.
"Sir?"
The launching pad under Jaune's feet exploded forth, sending the poor boy sailing through the air - his screams and shouts still loud and clear to everyone. Some people looked up at him in horror, some flashed back to Ozpin with their mouths agape. Glynda let out an audible sigh, pinching her nose in that way she always did.
She understood, really - she did.
"Now," Ozpin said calmly, "do we have any other questions?"
"Me, sir." A feminine voice called, hand raised and all.
This certainly was shaping up to be an interesting year.
Ending Notes:
Wohoho that's 10k words, yikes. I'll try cut down the lengths in the future unless you guys like it.
Also poor Jaune. All he wanted to do was point out the flaws in the system! And who is this person who raised their hand? Are they someone important or a random whats-his-name?
Did I do a Pyrrha right? I probably sound dumb for always doubting how I do these character interactions but I can't help but always re-read those sorts of things, wondering how I can make it more natural and fluent. Funnily enough, that's probably why I like writing Qrow; he probably doesn't give a fuck how he's written anyway.
There are a couple of other things I could touch and hint on but I won't say much more. I would like to keep some element of surprise, you know.
I forgot to add it in the A/N of the last chapter, but there was a part in Ruby's sleep over speech where she swapped out a male pronoun for a female one. It was to signify how in the end she was thinking of her mother, though I don't think anyone actually got that…
I'm also writing these notes like a week after I've written the chapter itself. Currently writing chapter 6 at the time of writing this note, though when this goes up I'll probably be working on a further one. Keeping ahead of schedule is key, but also sort of hard at times.
As always, feel free to help me improve this story and…
Thank you for reading this chapter!