I've not yet decided if this will be a crossover, but I think it will be interesting.
The idea? What if Jaune Arc, from the age of twelve, trained? Not to be a Huntsman, or a Hero, or even a Criminal, just as a way to pass time. Just as a hobby.
The Hobbyist
"You should give up," Jaune's father said, perhaps a little cruelly. He didn't mean to hurt the boy's feelings, but he also didn't want to see his only son hurt, pursuing his dream of being a hero. "The stories about heroes don't tell you about the struggles and hardships they had to face."
"Oh, I know," the twelve year old said, swinging his practice sword for the fifty third time, "I want to be a hero, but I don't really think I'm cut out for it."
"What?" His father asked, confused.
"Well, I'm pretty sure that I'm not strong enough for it, ya know? I like comics and videogames, and pretending to be a hero. I'm not dedicated enough to actually be a hero," he switched the sword into his left hand and started swinging again.
"Then why are you practicing?" Gol Arc asked Jaune.
"I'm considering it an investment!" his statement was punctuated by another swing and a thrust.
"Please do explain."
The boy finally stopped, breathing hard and leaning on the practice sword, "In X-Ray and Vav, how often do any of those really pretty girls go for the rolly polly wimp who can't even lift up a couch?"
Gol barked a laugh, understanding dawning, "I see where you're going. You'll want to start each session with a jog around the property. It'll burn calories and get your blood flowing for the rest of it."
Jaune looked up at his dad, a smile on his face. Their relationship improved from that day forward. Knowing that his son was just training as a hobby was a relief. Of course, he didn't just take his son's word on it. Gol paid careful attention to each of his training sessions. The boy never gave it his all. Not really. He went through the motions, kept to the routine, built the muscle, but it really was just a hobby.
That was never more apparent to the man than when he caught his son practicing a flashy, jumping, spinning attack that served no purpose other than looking cool. It was right out of the X-Ray and Vav comics. It took him several weeks, but the boy perfected the move.
And Gol had to smile. It was just like his boy to do that. The attack would never work in a real fight. The vector was all wrong for a powerful blow and even a slicing weapon wouldn't have much luck at penetration. It did look cool, though.
And things continued like that for two years. Gol would give Jaune small, harmless pieces of advice, just making sure he didn't hurt himself, and Jaune would practice a few times a week, more when he was doing some move he saw in a cartoon or comic book. It did do wonders for his physique, too. Even at just fourteen, he was starting to garner some attention from the opposite sex.
Then, one day, Jaune came home from school, steaming mad. He didn't greet his family, he just dropped his backpack, picked up his training sword and shield and went into the yard to practice. The boy practiced harder than he ever had before. He released a battlecry at the end of each combo. By the end of it he was barely on his feet, drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
"What was that about?" His mother asked.
Jaune sighed and sat down, grabbing his water bottle and taking a slow drag.
"There was a guy at school today," he grumbled, "A total jerk. He keeps picking on people. I was the target today. We were playing dodgeball."
"Ah," his mother sighed and nodded, "I understand. So what will you do now? Go back to school and beat him up for being a jerk? Prove you're better at his game than him?" It was a trap. Wanting to fight bad guys was all well and good. Hurting kids for being young and dumb should be dissuaded. "If so, you should give up now. A real hero would know it's not okay to beat up a child."
"Yeah, I know," Jaune said, not even a moment's hesitation or thought given to it, "And even if I did do something about him, I'd more likely get in trouble for it than solve the situation. I figure I'll weather him out. Either the teachers will notice, or he'll get bored. Until then, I'll come home, beat up my shadow and read comics."
His mother, Tannis, was surprised, and very pleased by his answer. It was actually rather calm for someone who had just spent an hour screaming at the air.
Maybe that was exactly why he was calm. He'd worked out his aggression, and productively at that.
Still, just like her husband, she'd keep an eye on him. The last thing she wanted was for her sweet boy to become a bully himself.
Over the next month, Jaune would come home a couple of times a week and practice more rigorously than normal. Tannis would ask him what happened, but he'd just say that the boy, Nylo, was being a jerk and work himself to exhaustion. It all came to a head at the beginning of the second month.
Jaune came home with a black, swollen eye and a smile on his face.
"Oh my word, Jaune!" His mother said as the whole family rushed out to meet him, "What happened?" Then she narrowed her eyes, "Did you fight that boy?"
"Nope!" jaune chirped cheerily, "I got a better score than him on the English test. He tried to get me to give my paper to him so he could tell his mom he got the best score. I said no. He punched me," the grin widened, "And Principal Monty saw the whole thing! Nylo is suspended for a week!" then Jaune held up his test paper, showing the one hundred percent he'd gotten on it.
"Good job, Jaune!" His sister, Sapphron told him with a big grin, "Did you know the principal was there?" If he had, that was pretty damn sly for her little brother.
"Nope!" He chirped again. That got a chuckle from his family. Jaune was clearly the same goofy kid he'd always been.
Another year passed and Jaune's form started to pack on lithe, corded muscle. He was one of the most physically fit in his year and a nightmare for the school coaches. They wanted him for their various sports programs, but Jaune just wasn't interested.
"I'm just not that dedicated, Mister Brannigan," he said when he had been asked, "I'm just a hobbyist."
It had gone like that for a while. Jaune hadn't had much more bullying to deal with. He was getting too big, too confident for the usual teasing. He hadn't realized it, but he had gained a reputation.
He was quiet, did his work, and usually ate lunch on his own. He wasn't super social and never asked any of the pretty girls out on dates, never joined a team, and quietly excelled in PE. When the teachers gave out criticism on homework, he was never chosen for it. Word started going around that he was a super strong Huntsman in training, and that even the teachers were scared of him.
Not that the teen noticed, with his nose more often buried in his comics, or game manuals.
It didn't help that, just as he turned sixteen, he was challenged to a fight by a transfer student. The kid was marking his territory, showing everyone his place in the food chain. Everyone knew Arc was the toughest guy on campus. The kid, name of Kuro, had watched him for a few days and decided he wasn't that tough.
"I'm calling you out, Arc!" He said once the lunchroom was filled.
The cafeteria went silent. All eyes were on Jaune. The blonde in question looked up from the latest issue of X-Ray and Vav, confused.
"What?"
"The names Kuro," the other teen told him, "And from now on I run this place. Only thing is, some of these weaklings," he sneered at their classmates, "Think I need to beat you to do it. So, here we are. I'm gonna kick your ass, with everyone watching."
Jaune frowned at the boy, slowly lifting one eyebrow, "Are you for real?" He closed his comic and stowed it, then leaned back in his seat, "No, seriously, is Violet pulling a prank?"
"Your slut sister ain't got nothing to do with it," Kuro sneered again. He smirked when he saw Jaune stiffen.
"You shouldn't say that about Violet," he warned in monotone.
"Oh yeah?" The other teen knocked his tray off the table, allowing him to lean in real close, "What are you gonna do about it?"
Jaune shrugged, "Nothing," Kuro almost growled, clenching one fist to punch Jaune before he continued, "Vi is gonna put ya in traction, though."
Even as he said it, a dainty hand grabbed Kuro by the face and a blonde girl a year younger than Jaune proceeded to smash him into the floor hard enough to cause the cement to crack.
"Huh. This guy is a Prep reject. Got his Aura unlocked," Violet Arc spoke, noticing that she hadn't killed him yet, due to his Huntsman Preparatory training.
He groaned, starting to lift himself back up and Violet stomped on his back then kicked him in the head, knocking him clean out.
"Oh, snap," one of the other kids intoned, "Think he's dead?"
"Nah," Jaune said overhearing them, "But he'll wish he was tomorrow." Jaune meant that the young man would be suffering quite the headache, and a nasty bruise on his back. The students assumed that he was gonna make the boy wish he was dead. It didn't help that Jaune put the kid over his shoulder and walked off.
He intended to bring Kuro to the nurse. As far as they knew he was being taken to where ever Jaune hung out to be tortured.
Kuro did not come back to school the next day. Nor the day after that. A week went by and he finally limped back into school, bandages covering most of his head and one of his eyes. His left arm was in a cast, his right leg had been broken in multiple places, making him awkwardly use his crutch one handed.
He hobbled over to Jaune, bowed as low as he could and apologized.
"I am deeply sorry for my insult to your family. It will not happen again."
"Good," Jaune said, then went back to his comic book. Kuro blinked his good eye, then hobbled away, the silent crowd parting before him as they turned to stare at Jaune.
"You do not fuck with an Arc," one whispered and practically the whole school agreed.
Of course none of them knew that Jaune had very little to do with Kuro's injuries. The boy had come to the Arc home, intent on challenging Jaune again. He had made the mistake of raising his hand to the youngest Arc daughter.
Jaune had been about to draw his practice sword when Tannis appeared, grabbed the boy by his ear and dragged him home, where she explained to his mother what he had done. Kuro's mother decided then and there he needed more extensive training and took him into the woods for a week. Who knew what happened after that.
For Jaune, aside from that brief encounter with Kuro, the year passed by peacefully. He'd even had brief, but fun relationship with a student librarian who loved X-ray and Vav as much as he did.
At least, it was peaceful until three days before summer break.
"My name is Professor Peter Port," a slightly rotund man of greying hair and fabulous mustache said with some dramatic flare, "And this is my friend and colleague, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck. We are here today to see if any of you would like to, or have the potential to, be Huntsmen or Huntresses!"
Almost as one, the entire gymnasium turned to look at Jaune and Violet Arc.
Jaune had been paying rapt attention to the Huntsmen, still idolizing them despite his belief that he could never be one. This gave him a unique vantage as every eye in the room turned to him.
"What?" He asked, clueless.
Port chuckled and said, "Apparently, your peers believe you have what it takes to be a Huntsman, my boy!"
Jaune smiled but shook his head, "In my dreams. No way am I good enough to be one."
Port just smiled at him, "Would you, then, like to see where you stand against one?"
The Arc son took a long moment to think that over, then shrugged and stood up, "Why not? Just don't break me, okay?" He smiled nervously.
Oobleck, ignored that however. Instead he was examining the lad. He had a loose fitting hoodie and blue jeans on, but even through them, he could see the thick muscles on the teen's frame.
"Are you trained in hand to hand, mister…"
"Oh, Jaune Arc, nice to meet you," he shook the hands of both Huntsman, "And yes and no? I can't fight so well without a sword and shield, but I'm just a hobbyist. I only train a couple hours a day, after school."
"I see," Oobleck said.
"Well, fear not, lad!" Port said boisterously, "They may not be exactly what you are used to, but we came prepared with practice weapons, in all shapes and sizes!" Even as he said that, Doctor Oobleck seemed to disappear in a blur, then came back with a large chest on wheels. Inside the chest was a sizeable collection of wooden weapons with wrapped leather handles. The slightly rotund Huntsman picked up a wooden hammer.
Jaune picked up a short sword with a decent weight and a round shield.
"So," he said, turning to the man, "I've never actually sparred with anyone before, are there any rules I should know of?"
"Just do your best, my boy," he held the hammer loosely, "Doctor Oobleck will give us the signal to begin."
Jaune nodded taking the only ready stance he knew.
Oobleck slashed his hand through the air in front of the two and shouted, "Begin!"
Three hours later, Jaune and Violet Arc made it home. Jaune had a pensive look on his face. Violet was vibrating as she ran up to their parents and older sisters.
"Jaune beat up a Huntsman and got offered a spot at Beacon!" she practically yelled at them.
"What?!" Six pairs of eyes darted over to Jaune. He hadn't noticed them, though, staring at the letter of recommendation in his hand. Both Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck had signed off on it after they had seen his grades.
"Jaune!" His father's voice finally cut across his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Jaune, you fought a Huntsman?" Gol asked sternly.
"Oh, um, yeah," seeing the looks he was getting he moved on to say, "They were visiting the school today, a recruitment drive, I guess," he shrugged, "They asked if anyone wanted to spar, to see what a fully trained Huntsman was capable of. I really wanted to see that. It would be cool, ya know? But no one stepped up. Instead, they were all staring at me."
His parents just stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I figured, why not? They were making a demonstration, not an… example, ya know?" He received a nod, then said, "So, I agreed to a spar, and, well…"
Rather than explain, Jaune pulled out his scroll, a hand me down from his eldest sister, and pulled up a video one of his classmates had taken of the spar.
"Hope this guy knows what he's doin'," the amateur videographer could be heard to say, "You do not fuck with Arc."
Again, his parents and siblings looked at the teen in question. He shrugged, shaking his head. He was just as confused as them.
Back in the video, the fight started and Jaune began it very defensively. The shield was held tight against his left side, his body turned that way to face the Huntsman. His wooden sword was held against the shield and the young man did not even blink.
He moved forward just a little, jabbing with the sword, probing the older man's defenses. The Huntsman knocked his sword aside smoothly, hooked the hammer on Jaune's shield and attempted to pull him off balance.
Instead, the teen allowed himself to be pulled forward, adding his own momentum to it. Pulling his sword back under his control, he struck at the wrist holding the hammer.
Port disengaged a second too late and, were it not for his Aura, might have been forced to drop his weapon. It still left him just the slightest bit numb.
And Jaune didn't wait for him to retaliate. The teen shoved the shield forward, under the arm with the hammer and pressed upward as hard as he could.
Now, truthfully, Port could have just stopped the boy from moving his arm at all, but he was curious what came next. Thus, he let the boy send his arm upward.
The blond then slashed at him three times in quick succession. The Huntsman was quite impressed. But it was time for a counter. He brought the hammer back, then down and forward. He did so with some speed and a fair bit of power, but nothing that Jaune shouldn't be able to anticipate and block. The intention was to knock the boy back and then disarm him.
He did not expect the Arc to plant one foot on the hammer and use the Huntsman's swing to launch him into the air.
Jaune flew up and back, pulling his sword and shield in tight to his body and spinning horizontally. He thrust his limbs out, stopping the spin just before he hit the ground, allowing him to land softly, sword and shield ready.
The teen didn't bother with another probing attack. He just charged back in, shield leading.
Port hooked the hammer into the side of the shield, wrenching it away from Jaune's midsection. This left him open to several respectably fast thrusts from Jaune's sword.
By the time his hammer was in position again, and so was the teen's shield.
From there, the Huntsman upped his speed to match what he'd seen of the boy, and it became quite the stalemate.
Until Jaune decided to do something foolish.
Jaune kept his eyes on, not his enemy's face, but his chest stomach and shoulders. From there, theoretically, he could see every attack begin. He saw it as every attack was preceded with a step forward. It gave him a wicked and, probably dumb, Idea.
Port grabbed the hammer with both hands and tried to step into his next attack.
The moment Jaune saw the man moving his shoulders for the swing he dashed in, dropped into a baseball slide, purposely kicking the man's right foot back. The wooden floor of the gymnasium was smoothe enough that Jaune was able to come up behind Port, swinging at his knees, sending the Huntsman tumbling forward. He moved forward while the man was down and placed the tip of his word against the back of the man's head.
"Yield?" He asked.
Port had frozen when he felt the wooden sword at his head, then, to the camera, it could be seen as he frowned for a moment, then started to shake, then burst out laughing.
"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" Port said happily, "I yield!" He stood up when Jaune pulled the blade, turned around and pat him on the back, almost causing the teen to stumble. The image then twirled around to the face of the Videographer.
"I repeat, you DO NOT fuck with Arc!"
Back in the Arc household, once again every eye was on Jaune.
"They, um, they gave me a letter of recommendation," he held it up.
Silently, his father took the letter, reading it over, paying close attention to the details about the Academy, then to the two signatures.
"I don't get it, though," the teen said, almost to himself, "Professor Port was clearly holding back. I never could have really won that fight. So, why?"
He felt so… confused.
"Because…" his mother said, meeting his father's eyes briefly, "The point wasn't to win, Jaune. He didn't want to beat you into paste, he wanted to test you. Did you have the skill, the will, or the intelligence to be a Huntsman. The Strength can come later."
"And by beating him, even while he was holding back," his father continued, "you've proven that the only thing you lack, to be a Huntsman trainee, is Aura."
"But I'm just a hobbyist!" he protested, though he couldn't figure out why he was against it, "I was just keeping fit!"
"And you are," Tannis spoke again, "Look at you," she gestured to his scroll, "Fit enough to be a trainee, certainly."
"No way," Jaune shook his head again, "No, I'm not dedicated to it. I just practice in my spare time."
"You've practiced five days a week for the last three years. Either you have a ton of spare time, or you're more dedicated than you think you are."
Jaune shook his head, backing away from them. He wasn't worthy of being a Huntsman, a hero. He was just a kid with big dreams and a comic book collection and lots of hours of training. He shook his head harder. He couldn't be a hero. His dad told him not to. His mom told him not to. His sisters, his teachers, his classmates. Being a hero wasn't meant for someone like him.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up into his dad's face, confused. For once, he really didn't know what to do.
"Jaune," Gol said solemnly, "This… this isn't our choice to make. I didn't see it then. I just wanted to keep you safe. I thought, if I could keep you out of the fighting, away from the grimm and the bad guys, you could be happy. Maybe I was right, maybe I was wrong. I don't know. All I know is I've done wrong by you, by taking away that choice, and I'm not going to do it again," He placed his other hand on his son's other shoulder and held his gaze for a moment, "You aren't a hero, Jaune. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you can become one. Whatever your decision, I'll support you."
Jaune looked past his dad to his mother and sisters. His mother nodded, subtly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she did. His sisters just gave him a thumbs up.
Jaune met his father's gaze again, realizing that the colossal height that had separated them when he was child had dwindled to only a few inches in the last couple of years.
He made a choice.
And as the Bullhead lifted over Vale, bringing the new Huntsman and Huntress trainees to beacon, his severe motion sickness had him regretting every step he'd taken away from home in the last three months. He was seriously going to have to get that blonde girl something nice, as an apology for her boots.
