Author's Notes:
Let's get right into the action this time.
I actually considered the names `The Arc of a Black Bird's Wing` and `The Shape of a Black Bird's Arc` for this fic and I'm still unsure whether or not this name is coolio. Such is the shame of considering in hindsight.
Also, I do read all reviews - and there are a couple that I actually want to answer concerning questions or ideas about the fic itself, characters or ideas. It's just that I'm unsure if I should answer them here or PM people. There are reasons for this:
1. I don't want to artificially inflate word count via answering questions.
2. If I answer certain questions, it may ruin the aspects or plot points in the story's future.
Anyhow, enjoy the chapter! Let's see how Jaune's doing after what happened at the end of the last one.
"Hoooooolyyyy shiiiiit!"
His entire body rotating fully over and over at different angles as the teen was sent flying through the air. Jaune had genuine concerns for the safety of the other students, damn it! What if he actually managed to fake his way into Beacon and then this happened?!
What kind of headmaster was Ozpin?! Was he really the one running Beacon? Then again, there were huntsmen who were equally as questionable - such as his own mentor - who roamed around the lands of Remnant. You know, maybe it wasn't too farfetched of a concept to grasp.
Not like it made Jaune feel any better, though.
Such questions, including `how the hell am I going to land?!`, raced through Jaune's head as he felt the intense winds rush across his skin. However, there was good and bad news concerning his current situation.
The good news was he wasn't going to get any faster, the blurry green of the Emerald Forest treetops not getting any worse. The bad news was that it was only that way because he had just hit terminal velocity from the combined momentum forward and downwards.
Essentially, Jaune couldn't go any faster because he was already moving way too fucking fast.
A blur of black, hints of red streaming from its eyes, caught Jaune's limited peripheral vision. It was a massive pitch-black bird wearing a patterned red bone-like mask. It was a Nevermore.
And it was massive.
Getting a grasp on his rotation, Jaune managed to level himself out – one arm spread wide – as he began to fumble with the belt around his combat-trousers.
"Come on, come on…!" He practically yelled to himself so that he could hear his own self-encouragement. If he was able to get a proper grasp on the handle, he could shoot the grapple into the flesh of the Grimm not too far above him.
That was assuming he could make the shot, but at this point - it's not like Jaune had many other options.
Since his velocity was aimed more horizontal than vertical, the strain he would place on his arms wouldn't be monumental and easily braced for with the reinforcement of his Semblance. All he had to do was grab the of the device on his belt.
Which, mind you, was extremely hard when moving at the fastest speeds a human of his size and weight could travel at.
Jaune's gloved fingers inched towards the handle, pushed back by the heavy force of the wind coming his way. Further and closer it creeped until his palm grasped the device and held on tightly – ready to use it.
At least that was the plan until Jaune sensed the very familiar presence of something he would never forget the feeling of. Spending a year with a man on a mysterious mission tended to heighten this very sense. There were times when it was Grimm, other times it was a bandits or the White Fang – but one thing remained constant between these aspects.
Danger. Jaune could sense the danger behind him.
With great struggle, the teen tore his head back to get a glimpse of glimmering metal. Was it just him, or did it seem to get bigger?
No, it was getting closer.
Jaune widened his eyes, now unburdened to do so as his entire form twisted backwards while the hand that was on his belt flashed to in front of his left arm to draw Crocea Mors. There was no time to do anything else but desperately try defend himself.
The object seemed to appear in front of the blond in what seemed like an instant. That meant it was moving way faster than his own terminal velocity. And that meant whoever threw this had some monstrous strength and an unexplainable desire to see him impaled on the wrong side of it.
With a practiced motion, the war-worn but brilliant steel of Crocea Mors came forth to bat the weapon aside with a sharp clang. In the instant it wasn't just an obscure image from its own speed, Jaune could barely make it out to be a red spear? Javelin? Whatever the speeding spike was, it was sent upwards with a clash of metal – even higher than where the Nevermore flew, catching it on the wing.
Right, that was the plan earlier, the Nevermore… too bad that was out the window and into the Grimmlands now. Jaune was out of real options.
Deflecting that javelin seemed to be the correct option, and in many ways it was - since one of those ways meant he was still alive - but it had also recalculated his route straight down into the forest below.
Like the good man Ivyac Newton said, for every force exerted, an equal and opposite force will be too. And with the spear going up thanks to Jaune's strike, it looked as though the only other thing he would be hitting was rock bottom.
Sent hurtling toward the canopy below, the deep green of thick leaves and branches clouded his sight and Jaune had hoped that his Semblance would be able to prepare him for his inevitable crash landing `strategy`.
Hoping was all it was because he knew it was going to hurt like hell no matter what he did.
Ten Months to the Start of Beacon
He landed flat on his back, the feeling of shark rocks against his skin piercing his light, leather breastplate and hoodie combined. Granted, the latter offered little protection, but then again neither did the leather. What was even the point of it?
"Move, kid! Roll!" His mentor's gruff voice echoed from the dilapidated ruins of what looked to be a shop of sorts behind him. It was replaced with a grunt as the sound of waving steel met the flesh of a Grimm.
Jaune did just that, his teeth grit and eyes widened as he narrowly avoided the claw of an adolescent Ursa that was aimed straight at his midsection. The ivory point was stuck into the stone under him and very much not through him.
Right, that was the point of the leather. That probably would have been much harder with a full-body of plate mail. Lighter, and hence easier to move in, Jaune was able to get back onto a knee and pushed himself backwards off of his bent leg.
Putting himself back into a rough approximation of a two-handed swordsman's stance, Jaune noticed the distinct lack of shield to protect himself with. His blue eyes, tinted with mud and dirt, looked to where he was knocked down to see the round piece of metal he was given as a replacement to Crocea Mors' shield.
It was crude, but cheap. So was the sword that he held in his hands. Lien was something that his teacher didn't seem to have a lot of. And with the ever lingering scent of alcohol around the man, it wasn't hard to conjure a possible reason why.
The teen then realized a critical mistake as his eyes came back to his opponent, giving himself enough time to widen them and dodge the wild charge of the monster before him. Jaune's shoulder met the dirt and dust of the ground, the teen once again narrowly avoiding an attack.
Dodging Grimm was way easier when I first started training with Vul, why is it so hard now? He thought, panting heavily at the strain his body was under.
To be fair, the only task he was given then was to run away from them, and now he had to actually score hits. The added concentration for dexterity and energy to make those strikes effective definitely stockpiled on his body's demand for energy.
The Ursa in front of him let out a feral cry, its claws ripping to its sides as the beast stood on its hind legs. Man, what was Vul doing right now? This was all his idea!
He said that he wanted to check out this town concerning some leads on an overarching mission he was sent on. Little did he know, the place he wanted to visit had been ransacked and torched a while ago – leaving behind an ugly scorched landscape. Even with the time passed, the negativity lingered. And with negativity inevitably came the creatures of Grimm.
Jaune cursed slightly as he saw the Ursa Minor retract from its bipedal state, coming onto all fours to once again attack its prey. Dodge, was what his body told him to do – but his mind, shaped by his mentor in these last two months, told him he had to do more. He couldn't beat this beast if he just kept running away. So with this resolve, Jaune leveled his sword and prepared to strike.
The monster roared, not to intimidate – but instead to indicate pain. Jaune had to thank whatever made the Grimm to give them such single-minded tendencies. Roar, charge, claw, bite; it wasn't exactly hard to predict what they were going to do. Such reading allowed the teen to impale the coal-black side of the Ursa as Jaune timed his sidestep at the last second.
Hah, he did it! Jaune did what any self-respecting huntsman hopeful would do in that situation and fist pump his right hand.
"Oh… shit."
Clasping his palm and opening it again, Jaune noticed there was a distinct lack of sword hilt in his right hand. And as his sapphire eyes brought themselves to look upon the slowed Grimm's midsection… yep. Yeah, that was his sword, alright. And that was a very pissed Ursa.
Cool it, Jaune. Keep a level head. You've been in worse situations before, haven't you? Like that one time you waved back at your middle school crush because you thought she was waving at you. You had no reason to know it was to that guy behind you who also coincidentally was your best and only friend. He was cool about it with you afterward, too. Not like that made it any better.
Didn't have to remind him about that one – his sisters Hazel and Jade definitely didn't let him forget. And nobody else really seemed to care and that sort of made him feel worse about the whole ordeal.
Contrary to his previous thoughts, having Vul save him for the third time was seeming like less and less of an appealing idea. Becoming indebted to the bastard who put you through hell on the daily was not something Jaune wanted on his wish list if he could help it. And help it he could, all that stood in the way of that goal was a seven-foot hulking mass of bear.
Easy.
In any case, Jaune didn't have a weapon and very much exposed. There only seemed to be a singular Grimm against him but all it took was a singular unexpected swipe or a singular mistake in his Aura flow to cost the teen his jugular – his oh, so precious jugular.
"One mistake on the battlefield could cost you your life, kid. Don't lose your cool out there." Well, thank you, Vul. All his mentor had done by saying that was make him panic further! One mistake on the battlefield…
That was right! This was a battlefield. And what his bastard of a teacher had told him just after they had met – everything on a battlefield helps you fight. It was why it was called that, after all.
Cerulean shone in the night of the decrepit ruins of the village around him – pupils darting around him looking something, anything to use. There were pieces of debris, broken planks of wood. No, they would be too awkward to wield correctly for him. The small rocks? His head turned the clock back to Vul throwing a stone straight throw a tree like a bullet.
He had to teach him to do that one day but for now, Jaune could only wish it was that simple.
Pivoting in a right angle, one of his eyes gave a side-glance to the wreckage of a two-floored shop. It was barely standing – however standing nonetheless. A single foundation of thin, worn and decaying oak. Easily kicked in or smashed. On its last leg, you could say.
Alright, not his A-game. Gods forgive him if Vul's sense of humor was rubbing off on him.
Both of Jaune's eyes snapped back to the Ursa, a vaguely psychotic grin on his face – wild and desperate. Taking in a deep breath, Jaune channeled his inner drunk and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Hey! Blubber-beater! How about you get that fat, old tootsie over here with that big, ugly mug? If you can even run after getting your ass beat by a scrawny sixteen-year-old!" Did it even understand what he was saying? Grimm were mindless creatures, in a sense.
The feral burst of hell's guttural screech was all the answer Jaune needed as the Ursa did, in fact, understand. Roaring, the beast started charging once again, exactly as expected.
Timing.
Timing and balls. Those were to two things needed, imperative even, to make sure this plan went swimmingly.
"One…" All four paws crashed against the hard pavement below, cracking the cobble beneath with sickening crunches.
"Two…" Jaune steeled his nerves while the blood in his body boiled. Not yet… too far. Breath in and out, Jaune.
"Thr- FUCK!" Timing and balls. Indeed, Jaune did not have a grasp on his bollocks yet – but in time, perhaps, he would. For now, however, the teen barely managed to save his hide with quick reaction times and a whole heap of adrenaline pumping through his veins; he managed to evade the quick and ivory claw with a rip of the leather on his side.
Alright, so he had miscalculated the distance between them quite extensively – almost resulting in his own death – but that's all fine. As Jaune once again tumbled onto the ground in a messy approximation of a roll, the very loud creaking and cracking and crashing of wood and glass alike meant that… meant that it worked!
Had it worked?
A dirtied, blond mop of hair shot up as Jaune scrambled to his feet. Sure enough, he was met with a trapped Ursa, barely held down by the debris comprised of the walls and half of the floor above. For just a second, Jaune thought that was it – only to flinch back as the stirring of the beast under it began to growl darkly.
It wasn't enough! His blue eyes were drawn to the lone standing foundation, yet to collapse and holding the rest of the second floor up. Another rising growl – enough to warrant Jaune's nervous system to crack his output back to eleven yet again. His legs cried for respite while they burnt, exhausted from his earlier engagement.
In the midst of the pain, Jaune grit his teeth as he forced the last of his strength into his right leg, now in kicking range of the lone pillar of wood. It shone with a bright, white cloak of translucent energy as the poor piece of oak was sent hurtling through the fading light of dusk.
One ominous scree of wood turned to two as the entirety of the remains of the second floor came crashing down onto the Grimm like a meteor shower. It might as well have been; especially sharp and long pieces of wood impaled the creature from above as a rain of more heavy-looking pieces of architecture hammered them further into the Ursa's coal flesh.
With a final cry, the bone of its white mask cracked, the beast's outermost layer of fur crumbling to ash as the decomposition began. Jaune's legs finally gave in, crumpling under his weight and leaving him in the kicked up dust to contemplate past decisions of his life.
"Grraagh!"
"AHHH!" His elbow exploded backwards in reflex, catching something in its devastating trajectory. Like an arrow flying from the taut string of a legendary archer's bow – its speed was almost invisible to the naked eye, homing onto its target like a single-minded killer with single-minded purpose.
"FUCK!" And it struck true. "Why the hell'd you do that, kid? Damn it, now its bleeding…" The gravelly – and additionally nasally – voice of his one and only instructor, Vul complained. Jaune couldn't help but feel the irritation burst from under his skin.
Serves him right.
He turned around the best he could with two dead legs, facing his master straight-on. "Why the hell did you sneak up on me, you bastard! That was entirely your fault! And where the hell were you; I almost died!" He screamed, completely unapologetic for his actions.
Vul held the back of his left forearm against his nose to stop the blood from spilling uncontrollably. "Is this the thanks I get for helping you learn to conduct your Aura better?"
"What?"
"Your Aura, idiot. What helped you bat away that piece of wood like an alcoholic bats away his crippling self-doubt and hatred with a shot of whiskey." The huntsman removed his forearm, cringing at the trickling of crimson. "Speaking of…" His free arm holstered his massive steel sword-sycthe-gun thing, grasping tightly on the flask at his hip – unclipping it from his belt.
Jaune himself cringed, "After what you just said, I don't think you should be drinking…"
"Probably." Dismissive and evasive. An attribute that Jaune learnt described most of his mentor's attitudes when discussing his quite obvious indulgence in his vices. The blond would admit, he was curious, even if it was absolutely none of his business. His mother did always say that sometimes all you needed was someone to speak too. "Anyway, it's not for me, kid."
"Huh?" Jaune's eyes widened as the aging man chucked the flask underhanded toward him, catching it in both hands.
To his student's inquisitive (and vaguely suspicious) gaze, Vul's answer was quite simple. "You look like you could use it." He put a thumb to one of his nostrils and let out a powerful gust of air to the side – a deep red clot of blood on the ground the result of his labor.
Prying his scarily tight fingers from the container, Jaune's eyes lingered on his palm. And noticed how it shook so. "My first Grimm kill…"
"Well, actually no…"
Jaune tore his gaze from himself and looked to Vul. His voice light, he spoke, "What do you mean?"
In response, his mentor gave a smirk, "Aren't you full of questions? Come on, kid, you couldn't have forgotten." His eyebrows were raised suggestively, only to fall slowly as Jaune's expression almost begged for an answer. "Nevermind, I guess." Vul sighed, drooping down to sit opposite Jaune.
"I just… I just want to know."
Vul nodded absentmindedly, lips forming a small pout as his dark-red eyes drifted. "Guess you'd still be shaken up about it…" He sighed again, head dropping with the action. "When I found you – broken, bloodied, battered – you were on the verge of death. And surrounded by half a dozen or so Grimm…"
The boy held his breath, "…And?"
"Well," he said, "they all looked a whole lot worse than you did."
It was Jaune's turn to nod, shakily and afraid. Of course, it's not like he could really forget. It was the night he let Lyn die. He wasn't lying. He just wanted to know.
But why?
He asked himself that, even if he maybe knew the answer. Maybe he just wanted to make sure it all wasn't a dream. Maybe because everything happening was just so unreal. Jaune wanted to be a huntsman, but all of this? He didn't expect any of this. All of the grit, the pain, the destruction.
Two months. That was all the time he had spent with Vul. But in these two months, he had already seen so much more of this side of Remnant than he had in the past short sixteen years of his life. His sheltered life in the outback frontier of Mistral never would have exposed this to him. His own father never would have exposed this to him.
Maybe his father was right in that.
Eye drifted down to the flask in his hand. He was afraid. Afraid to ask the man opposite him, "This village was destroyed long ago wasn't it? There was never any… information to gather, was there?" Voice rocking subtly, Jaune's eyes stay fixated on the metal of his mentor's flask.
Even if Jaune couldn't see it, he knew.
He knew just as he knew what happened that night two months ago. He knew that Vul would raise an eyebrow, drift his gaze upwards and stare into the shattered moon above and hum. And he hummed, like he acknowledged something that the teen across from him wouldn't understand. It pissed him off.
"It was an old, little village. Kuroyuri. Reports say a new type of Grimm came to existence here, only to take existence away; both here and across the certain parts of Mistral's frontier." Vul's next words came out idly – passively – almost without a thought. "The same kind of Grimm that was at the town I found you at."
Jaune widened his eyes yet again, just for them to narrow again. Pristine metal glinted from the container within his grasp. Being close enough to it – and this time not being under pressure of copping a taste of the liquid within – he noticed there was a tiny engraving of what appeared to be words in the very corner of the material, so miniscule that you wouldn't be able to read it unless you really tried.
And try Jaune did.
The engraved metal spoke, `With or without. Keep moving forward. – S`
Under the growing twilight, surrounded by the floating ash of decaying creatures – descended from shadows – and the ruins of a long-gone town, Jaune uncapped the flask and drank. He'd get his subpar replacements for Crocea Mors back later.
Because, for some reason, this only felt like the beginning.
Brace.
His leather-clad body flashed with a bright cloak of royal white, tinted with gold. A moment it was, but within that singular moment his Aura folded over itself a dozen times over. Sure, it would burn out his supplies just about that fast too but it would all be worth it if helped Jaune ease the pain to come.
It didn't.
Crocea Mors still in his right hand, Jaune did what he could to prepare himself as he timed his impact with ground zero. Cradling his face within the back of his elbows, his arms created a cross shape to protect his vision from sharp branches, twigs and leaves alike.
Damn it, it felt like a swarm of especially pointy Lancer gunning it for his face!
Breaking past, Jaune escaped the canopy of the Emerald Forest and was closing in on the forest floor. Closer and closer, Jaune tore away his hands from his face and used them to redirect his face-first dive to be less potentially self-destructive. If the past year with Vul had taught him anything at all – meaning absolutely anything out of the endless list of both equally useful and completely unusable garbage he gave Jaune – it would be a certain lesson that strayed between the distinct lines.
It being, of course, "If you know everything's going to go tits-up, might as well look as stylish as you can while the world burns around you, ey, kid?"
Once again, Jaune's body was covered in a beautiful crackle of gold-tinted white as his Semblance flared up to do what he always dreamed of doing while sat back at home watching that season's young male teenage action fantasy.
What was it, you may ask? But a fraction of a second from contact with the ground Jaune smirked – delusional and forced. Nobody was there to see it, either, but he still wanted so badly to do it.
A god damn superhero landing, like in all the good movies and shows he had seen before.
His leather-padded knee annihilated the hard dirt beneath him. Or were those his bones? Jaune was in too much pain to really tell.
In any case, the ground gave in to his force – cracking violently, exploding from the epicenter. His hand was next, and gods did he regret putting his wrist down at the same time as his knee because god-damn, he didn't think his ball joint would ever be the same again.
Blond locks hid his eyes and he was thankful. His eyes were wide with from sudden, painful shock as tears threatened to seep out. Hell, there was one escaping from the corner right now. Biting on his lip fiercely, Jaune took in a sharp breath of air.
"Nailed it…" He squeaked out.
Nailed it.
What sounded like half a hundred barefooted steps arose from all angles around the landed teen. Dipping in and out of audible range, weaving through the greenery of the Academy's personal forest. Jaune was bordering on calling it a death-play ground, though. One where the parents would send their kids of for the day by launching them from the side of cliff a couple dozen kilometers high.
As you do.
But the unfortunate reality was that Jaune was attempting to distract himself from the fact he was going to have to fight Grimm after landing in the most amazing way possible (and you won't ever convince him otherwise). A huntsman he was to become and Grimm were one of the many adversities he would have to face on his path.
And now he was just trying to make himself feel better.
Letting out a shaky and painful sigh, Jaune stood himself up and winced as the joints in his knee and wrist ached at the change of position. Crocea Mors was still in his right hand; the teen had used his left to `cushion` his landing, and his fingers were like a steel vice on the grip. Slowly, Jaune breathed away the pain as he took the stance he and Vul had created once Crocea Mors was retrieved.
His left arm, the one holding Crocea Mors' sheathe on the bracer, was outstretched but bent at the elbow. Following was his left leg, foot scraping against the dirt below – now standing side-on while he fully extended his right arm, pointing his blade forward. Carefully, Jaune's other forearm rested near the bottom of his right bicep, within the elbow.
There were reasons for this, of course, but Jaune didn't think he had the time to think of them as a pack of five Beowolves made themselves apparent – bursting through the shrubbery. And they wasted no time with pouncing on their prey.
Beowolves were, obviously, Grimm. But Vul – but more memorably: experience – had taught him that they were far from `mindless`. The wolf-like Grimm had similar, if not – superior, instincts to their unmasked counterparts on account of their nature as physical manifestations of pure destruction. Sometimes, they would give their own lives to their base impulse to cause as much chaos as possible. He had seen it before and had no doubt he would see it again.
But not here, that was for sure. He wouldn't allow these monsters to leave here alive. Not after everything he had gone through.
The first, the weakest of the pack, was sent forth with a commanding snarl from the Beowolf near the back. Something of a guinea-pig to test the strength of the prey, Jaune learnt. It let out a deep roar as it ran forth in a line and leaped up in an even straighter line. Maw wide, saliva flew. And so did blood.
Thankfully, not his.
From a distance, it almost seemed as though the Grimm and cut itself on Jaune's blade that just so happened to be there. People who saw that might have called him lucky. To those people, Jaune would laugh hysterically and say he wished; he definitely deserved it after a year with, what seemed to be, Remnant's most unlucky man. Producers could have made a decent comedy on Vul's life. Probably sprinkle in elements of a tragedy there, too. For the ratings.
Un-luckily, though, fortune had nothing to do with it. Jaune just let the enemy do the work for him. To save energy was to save lives.
However, the cut was shallow. Drops of blood oozed from the edge of Crocea Mors' steel while the Beowolf tumbled onto the forest floor in a mess. Picking itself up, it weakly stalked off into the distance, leaving a trail of black-crimson in its stumble.
It wouldn't go far. Like a hunter to a deer, a huntsman was to a Grimm. It would bleed out and die in time and would most certainly perish if it saw another student attending Initiation. The brief second Jaune tore his eyes away from the pack to observe his attack proved to have been enough for the beasts to continue their assault.
To add against the argument of the so-called `mindlessness` of Grimm, two other Beowolves flanked either side of Jaune in a pincer-like formation. Jaune's right hand – still with Crocea Mors gripped – grasped his opposite shoulder and aimed his arm at one of the running beasts. Suddenly, a burst of smoke was almost visible as the sheathe was launched from the slot within the bracer.
A yelp told Jaune that his shot was true, the other half of Crocea Mors impaled straight through the side of one of the Beowolves. With the beast sent backward, the animalistic timing of the attack was sent on the rocks. To mess up the Grimm's rhythm even further, the teen stepped into the pounce of the opposite Beowolf – the blade of Crocea Mors singing as it tore through the underbelly of the coal-black creature and instantly lacerated it into ash in the wind. His left bracer suddenly glowed an ominous, poison purple.
Even the Beowolf embedded with the sheathe of the legendary blade let out a surprised yelp, being dragged towards the teen as the piece of steel within it shone with a similar light. It fit like the final piece of a puzzle, the sheathe slotting into the bracer with a Beowolf still on the end.
That was a lie, really. The final piece was this.
The Grimm split in two as the sheath expanded, razor sharp edges of the flat surface tearing through flesh and leaving two sizeable chunks of wolf on the floor, where the grass once was green. Crocea Mors retracted, spinning on the bracer as the magnetic hold re-positioned it for standby again as Jaune whipped his arm to the side to get rid of the dusting blood.
It got the job done and was cool as hell. That was a win-win in Jaune's books.
Three down, two to go.
Barking, the commanding Beowolf almost seemed to argue with the last member of what was once a pack. The two snarled, bearing teeth as they bickered – but ultimately, the beta lost. It gave a final bite to its leader, snapping ivory in the air as it turned to prowl forward to take Jaune's attention; the other backpedaling behind its sacrifice.
"Oh, no you don't…" The blond mumbled to himself, eyes hardened – squinting at the distance between him and the leader. "You aren't getting away that easy." Yeah, he could make the shot.
Jaune tossed his sword to his left hand, fingers wrapped around the royal blue as he lowered the now unburdened hand to his trouser belt. It was true, he had two devices that he could use whenever he so wished.
Well, he had planned to use the grappling hook earlier – but that only one of the two shifting weapons on his belts. The second was…
A single bullet fired from, quite literally, the hip – barrel now smoking as the small casing was ejected from the side, dropping on the floor with a dampened ting.
Nothing more than a dust-powered, semi-automatic, rapid-action handgun.
Really it had been a bet. But a bet well taken as the single shot staggered the leading Beowolf, as it slumped on the floor in a heap. The beta snapped its head to look at the alpha in what could only be described as shock.
Never take your eyes off of your opponent.
It didn't get the chance to learn from its mistake, and it never would – bright steel embedded both within its neck and through the ground. A pink tongue hung lolling from between the teeth, the sound of moving flesh evident as Crocea Mors was extracted from its target. Flaking black dust came off of the hide, proving its death. Sapphire eyes glared at the Beowolf he shot, gun in his right hand and a blade in his left.
Combat boots crushed grass, Jaune approaching the Beowolf steadily and noticed the very apt lack of dust. Half a meter away from the `dead` Grimm, it suddenly burst to life, using all four legs to jump high – mouth unnaturally wide, its breath absolutely revolting; both blood and rotten flesh pointing at its experience in killing something. Jaune hoped it wasn't an unfortunate soul.
If it was, he would make sure it would never take another life again.
Jaune stared into the unnatural scarlet pearls of the Grimm as it hung limp on the edge of his blade in his left hand – pointed upwards sharply. Slowly, it slid down the metal, black fur tickling his hand as the body was propped on the top of his guard. It stirred slightly, despite the fatal wound. The teen's right hand rose slowly to rest on his opposite wrist – gun barrel aimed under the chin of the Beowolf.
The shot rang out, crimson peals dimming to maroon – fur turning to ash.
He left the corpse slide off the blade, letting it turn to ash as Jaune finally let his guard down. The teen breathed out a sigh of relief and doubled over, cradling his left wrist. Yep, it still hurt. It was a damn superhero landing! Give him some slack. Propping up a fully grown Beowolf didn't help, that was for sure.
But he had dispatched a pack of five Beowolves with ease. Sure, he had done it before many times in the past few months – but this was Beacon. This was supposed to be different. Jaune hoped with all his heart it would feel different. And to his relief.
It was different.
So Jaune smiled despite the pain. Enough to make himself feel good before getting jumped on behind by another Beowolf.
Crocea Mors and his gun scattered, palms unable to keep a solid grasp due to the combined surprise and earlier pains. He winced as his back hit the floor, right forearm placed in front of him; the sharp pang of pointed teeth getting through his Aura for a split second before he could redirect the flow back to where it was needed. Luckily, the monster bit down on a bracer – but bite down it did, denting the metal in the millisecond it was able to.
"One mistake out on the battlefield could cost you-" Alright! He got it, Vul, damn it!
This `mistake`, if it could even be called that, was strange, though. Where did this Beowolf even come from? A stray? These kinds of Grimm rarely were found alone, so that was highly unlikely. Black ooze that resembled blood pitter-pattered onto Jaune's leather breastplate – his gaze flickering to confirm what he saw. That wound… it was the weakest Beowolf from the very start!
The one he scored a shallow cut on and assumed it would die. That probably also why Vul also said: `No body? They're probably alive, then.` and `Body? Double-tap it.`
Though, Jaune would admit it was poetic.
The weakest of the group proved to be the most troublesome in the end. If that wasn't the story of somebody's life out there, Jaune didn't know what was.
Pumping raw strength into his bicep, the single limb could hold it back while the teen reached for the weapon barely in his grasp. Was it Crocea Mors or his sidearm? His gloved hand inched closer to the handle of whatever it was, right arm crackling with Aura.
His fingers barely grazed the hilt of the weapon as an obscene blur flashed above him, slicing the Grimm apart with speed and grace. Was he just… saved?
Jaune turned his head to look at his apparent savior, both hands now coming up to push off the limp corpse that was left on his chest. Blue eyes widened.
"It's…"
/-/
Jaune!
The poor body of her new friend was sent forward into the free air above, propelled by the springing platform he once stood on. And that every other potential is currently stood on.
Some stared at the teen, who was now doing uncontrollable flips in the air – his screams still very much audible and echoing across the vast open space – while others nervously glanced at their own feet, afraid to meet the same fate as the fabled: boy who asked a pretty reasonable question, all things considered.
Well that boy was Ruby Rose's friend, gosh darn it, and he looked like he could use some help up there – doing all of those (probably) unintentional acrobatic feats in a less than graceful manner.
Professor Ozpin, who was largely unfazed by the whole thing, didn't even bat an eye, "Now… any other questions?"
Yes! Can I please save my friend from landing face-first into the ground at a gajillion miles an hour? But despite her innate speed, both physically and in her will to help, someone had raised their hand before hers.
She stood only a few bodies down the line from Ruby herself. Donned in intricately patterned bronze armour, she stood tall – way taller than she had the right to be – and even wore heels. Her hair was a deep shade of the most vibrant crimson, even more so than Ruby's own precious hood but what attracted the girl's attention the most was the fact that she somehow managed to beat youngest huntress-in-training to the punch.
"Me, sir," She stated eloquently with her hand politely raised, another still in front of her.
Ozpin paused for a fraction of a millisecond before regarding her with a small turn of his head. In his eyes was something that Ruby couldn't explain, but they seemed to glint. "Yes? What is it, Miss Nikos?"
"I want to go next. Please launch me, sir." Sure, Signal had its moments – but Ruby didn't think that those words would have ever been spoken outside of this very specific situation.
If Beacon's headmaster was at all surprised by the sentence, he most definitely didn't show it. Turning his head partly to next regard the blonde woman next to him with a raised eyebrow, she looked exasperated as her green eyes rolled. It was enough for the professor, however.
"Well," he spoke, "it wasn't a question but I shall look past it, Miss Nikos. Have a nice flight. Too-daloo." Not a single second later, the engraved square underneath her burst forward with a spring – similar to Jaune, but this girl had much more finesse in her form.
Ruby shook her red and black locks. This wasn't the time to admire somebody's ability to get some sick-nasty airtime; this was the time to save Jaune from dying!
"Let's try this again," the silver-haired man breathed out. "Is there… anybody else with a question?"
Nobody was going to pull a fast one on her this time. "Me, sir! Me! Me!" Ruby shot her hand up, rose petals exploding forward with the action. It just happened sometimes, she came to learn, best not to question it.
"Ruby!" The voice of her sister, Yang, whispered fiercely from a few pads down. She might have gotten flack for it later but the younger one of the two decided to ignore it.
Sorry, Yang, but I have to do this by myself. I can't be coddled by you forever!
Whimsically, the headmaster raised an eyebrow, jaded hazel pupils shifting towards her – the only indication he was listening.
"Can I go next?" Ruby blinked. "Please?"
"I don't know, can you?"
Ruby blinked again – this time harder. Much harder. Twice.
The woman behind Ozpin muttered something incomprehensible, but was no doubt something very rude as she pinched the bridge of her nose so hard that it would made a Mistrali crocodile's death-grip look like child's play. Even some of the other students craned their heads toward the scene in utter disbelief.
The time that passed but a second, but to those around – it seemed like an eternity of silence until Ozpin spoke once more.
"I'm sorry," he chuckled. "It certainly has been a while since I've used that one." He moved his cane under the arm that held his mug, using the free hand to push his glasses up his nose. "In any case, your request is granted, Miss Rose. Ta-ta."
Now it was her turn to fly. And fly Ruby did, an eruption of red roses scattering from her body. This time, however, Ozpin turned to see the girl exceed her top speeds with the use of her Semblance, sipping from his mug as he did so.
With his back to the potential future generation of huntsman, the headmaster still continued, "Do we have any other questions, then?"
The sound of shifting cloth, clinking metal and nervous chatter was noticeable – Ozpin didn't even have to turn around to know that virtually everyone now had their hands up.
Giving a yet another knowing look to the smartly dressed woman beside him, she had recovered from her previous annoyed state only to let out another sigh before nodding slowly. The silver-haired headmaster gave a knowledgeable hum before bringing the white mug to his lips once more – each and every one of the pads behind him bursting forth in tandem with each other.
Someone in the airborne crowd was a desperate voice screaming, `I wanted to ask if I could go to the bathroom!` but surely he'd find a nice looking shrub to do his business in, Ozpin thought.
For all her exhaustion, Glynda Goodwitch turned to look off the side of the cliff, arms crossed against her chest – still holding the monitor against it. "An interesting cohort, wouldn't you say, Professor?"
Looking on the horizon, at the bright silhouettes of this generation's forces against evil, Ozpin couldn't help but agree.
/-/
Crescent Rose was useful in Ruby's own landing strategy. The high-caliber sniper rifle shots stalled her momentum enough to give her the chance to hook the edge around a large branch to swing down with relative ease.
Landing in a burst of petals, Ruby flooded her body with Aura once more to reactivate her Semblance. Where could Jaune have gone? The way he handled being launched in the air probably meant that he followed the trajectory without changing it much. That meant it should have been easy to guess where he landed.
Should was the real keyword there, since Ruby had no idea where she was going! Everything looked the same! Green and brown blurred past her vision as the girl's head snapped to the left and right to get any sort of grip on her surroundings.
Hold on, didn't she just pass that exact tree? The pattern of the wood looked exactly the same as the one five seconds ago! Gah! This was all just so frustrating! Where was he?
Ruby didn't even know why she was so fixated on finding Jaune. No, wait, she did – it was to save him of course! What if he got hit really hard on the head when he fell or a particularly spiky branch unknowingly impaled him? Those leather pads on his body didn't really look like they protected him from much.
Well, Ruby did wear a combat skirt but that was besides the point; it was totally cool and awesome.
It's not like she wanted him as a partner. No, not at all!
Sure, he was super nice and helped her out when she was in trouble at the very start of her time at Beacon and he also had really nice blond hair that she might have wanted to ruffle a little bit and had those hard but kind deep-blue eyes that she could get lost in… he didn't even talk to her solely because of her sister! He talked to her because he liked her for being herself.
The heels of her combat boots dug into the forest dirt as she ground to a halt. Scarlet petals flew forward while her black skirt fluttered backwards. Both of Ruby's hands were against her cheeks – dots of pink appearing; her mouth trembling while wide open.
Did that mean…
There could be no way…
…
Did Jaune like her?
Like – like, liked her? It's not like people haven't like-liked her before but, like, this was different! There was no way, right? No way! He was just a friend that she met yesterday that seemed to really understand her as a person and wouldn't mind spending the next four years of her time at Beacon with.
Just friends.
A loud gunshot brought Ruby back into the real world. Was somebody in trouble? But she had to save Jaune! But what if it was Jaune?
The ringing echoed across the trees, continuing long past Ruby herself. From the sound, it seemed to be a relatively standard semi-automatic sidearm of sorts – most likely pistol. It came from her left so, with the use of her Semblance, left was the direction she went.
Just because she wouldn't mind Jaune being her partner didn't mean it wasn't the same for others, too. Getting Blake as a partner didn't seem so bad; she could probably tell Ruby about more of her books. Maybe next time she wouldn't have an emotional outburst at hearing the synopsis…
Weiss, also known as the one and only `Shouty-girl`, might have worked too. Ruby definitely felt like they had reformed the bridges that were burnt at their first interaction. Or… you know, maybe the bridges weren't really there in the first place and it was more like she jumped the gap?
Ah! Water under the bridge. That was the bridge-related saying she was going for.
If she found Yang, it's not like Ruby wouldn't partner with her. Of course she would; she was her sister and loved her so much!
It was just that these past two days, she's been really overprotective – triple the amount she was back at Signal. While Ruby didn't know why specifically, the young huntress-in-training hoped that it was just a phase she was going through.
A growling beast took her attention as the girl sped through the forests.
Beowolf – no doubt about it. It was only a singular one but there was a very obvious sign of a struggle and if the wrecked scenery was anything to go by, a large battle preceded it. Surely, they could handle it themselves, right? It was just one Grimm, after all… she could just dash by and find Jaune.
Who was she kidding? She could never do that – never in her life, not to anyone. And, hey, maybe it would be Jaune? That would sure be awesome.
Crescent Rose revealed his true form, shifting into the scythe she spent so much time learning how to use, thanks to her Uncle Qrow. The bullet of a girl was a couple dozen metres from the pounced Grimm, currently on top of a fellow potential student and attempting to dig into its latest meal.
Ruby definitely wouldn't let that happen. A couple dozen meters was a distance she could cross in less than a second.
Her weapon sliced through the Beowolf with mechanical ease – like a hot knife through butter, except the hot knife was a six-foot curved blade made of reinforced stainless steel and the butter was the tough, pitch-black hide of a Grimm.
Shifting her weight accordingly, Ruby span as she let the mass of her weapon carry her strike – landing on her two feet and bringing both her arms behind her and locking the handle under her elbows. The girl's boots dug into the dirt underneath her, putting more pressure onto one of her black-laced boots so her velocity stalled as she rotated to face the person she so amazingly saved.
Ruby kept her head down, hoping that she looked cool, waiting for Jaune to say something.
"It's… you!" Wait a second… that wasn't Jaune's voice. It was high-pitched, kind of annoyingly so, and feminine with a regal tone behind it. It was-
Ruby shot her head up, "Weiss?"
Weiss was already free of the Grimm's weight, Ruby's slice completely obliterated the Beowolf and sent it straight back to the shadows as nothing more than ash. The more elegant teen pushed herself upwards and was brushing off her snow-white dress and
The weapon in her hands shifted back into its holstering mode, as Ruby slowly tip-toed towards her white-haired… friend? Acquaintance? Recently acquired savior-ee?
Friend worked.
"Weeeiiiiiiss…" Ruby was slowly making her way in front of her friend, who had now gotten rid of most of the dust on her outfit and was now crossing her arms looking away from the other girl.
The red-cloaked girl was now behind the heiress, taking a quick step forward to be in front of her instead with a bright smile.
To which, the other responded by puffing her chin out in a direction that avoided facing her. Ruby's own face was now decorated with a look of surprise.
"Weiss?" Ruby took another fast step in front of the heiress only to receive the same treatment yet again. Another cute pout in a direction that didn't include Ruby.
What was she doing? Was she trying to avoid her?
If life with Yang taught her anything, sometimes persistence was the key to getting what you wanted. Like when she would try to reach the `only let Ruby take one per day` cookie-jar that she and their dad kept on the top shelf but this was far from that.
Because this time it would work this time.
Taking a deep breath, Ruby closed her eyes and prepared herself. "Weiss." Nope. "Weiss!" Nuh-uh. "Weiiiss!" She was too slow! Aura flooded Ruby's body to use her Semblance. "Weiss!" Not yet. "Uh-Weiss!" She had to turn it up even further. "Weiss, Weiss, Weiss!"
Truly, Weiss' head movement was something to admire – but she had to be wearing down, Ruby could see it!
She had to go even further beyond. "Weiss, Weiss, Weiss, Weiss, Weeeeeiiiis!" And just like that, the cold-hearted girl broke.
With a drop of her arms from her chest, Weiss stomped her heel on the ground as she yelled, "Grrr, what do you want, you insufferable little-"
"We're partners now!" Ruby shouted with equal volume, but much more jovial enthusiasm.
Weiss blinked, only now realizing that they had truly made eye contact. With sky-blue meeting shining-silver the connection had been made. She opened her mouth to say something – anything but the words never came out.
Because the bridge had been formed; the bond had been made. Fates were sealed as their souls were intertwined.
Ruby picked up the beat that Weiss had missed, "Come on, partner! Let's get to finding these relics!"
As Ruby began to drag her by the arm and deeper into the forest, heading to who knows where, Weiss spluttered, "W-wait a second! Unhand me, you- you- you-"
"La, la, la, I can't hear you over the sound of friendship!"
Weiss shook her head, eyebrows mismatched in height. "Friendship? What on Remnant are you talking about?"
"Friendship…" The other girl sighed dreamily.
"Do you even know where we're going? Let me go!" To respond, Ruby only had silence. Something that Weiss probably didn't expect seeing as though she responded to the younger girl's silence with more of it.
Eventually, Ruby's voice found itself once more, lowered in volume than before. "You know, for all the complaining you're doing, you aren't exactly trying too hard to get away from me – are you?"
Pink found its way to Weiss' pale cheeks, "S-shut up!"
Gasping, Ruby let go of the heiress' arm and pivoted to see her face. Weiss recoiled, but didn't do much else other than that. "You totally want to be partners!" She squealed.
Crossing her arms once more, Weiss refused to meet the starry silver eyes of her partner, "It's not that I want to be your partner – don't flatter yourself like that, it's unhealthy." She closed her eyes and articulated with a hand, "I just simply believe you are one of the more preferable options compared to the others."
Suddenly, she took lead and began to stride further in the direction Ruby was heading. "Now are we going to find these relics or not?"
Ruby turned around again, giggling as she jogged up behind Weiss. Sure, Weiss wasn't Jaune but the two seemed to get along fine now!
Hopefully, they would still end up on a team together.
"That's just a fancy way of saying you want to be partners with me – oof!" Weiss had stopped in her tracks and Ruby had just lightly crashed into her back. "What gives?" Rubbing at her head, she rose her gaze, shutting one eye to deal with the pain.
Weiss was looking up at it with appropriately placed silence.
It was a large cave entrance, the edges of the rocky entrance painted with patterns of white that resembled something. Ruby thought it looked like a bunch of stick-figure dancing around a piñata or something. Maybe the relic was hidden in the piñata?
"So… you wanna check it out?"
Weiss sighed.
Ending notes:
Wow. That's just the feeling I get after writing every chapter of a story. Even if the chapter itself was possibly lackluster at first draft. Hopefully, this one isn't.
Did I spend around 2k words explaining how Jaune killed 5 Beowolves? Yes. Was it sort of overkill and maybe drawn out? I have no idea.
If you want reference on Jaune's stance – just look up the Abyss Watchers' stance from Dark Souls 3 but the left arm is lower down and right arm is bent inwards slightly more. I wanted to get into detail on how Jaune fights. I thought it was pretty cool. Maybe you can figure out how he did some of his tricks. Don't worry, what he's shown wasn't even a fraction of what he can do. With one year to train, playing tricky is playing to win.
Also, Weiss and Ruby are partners! That whole interaction had my brain wracking and how they would interact – which is weird considering how they're so commonly written together. Did I get you with the fake out? Guess who Jaune will be partnered with next time on Under the Wing of a Black Bird.
My inbox and reviews are open to criticism and as always…
Thank you for reading this chapter!