(A/N) So... this came out later than expected. Part of me blames midterm season, the other blames my initiative to scrap half the story and write it from scratch. At the very least, I hope it's something that everyone can enjoy.

There isn't an exact amount of time that has elapsed between chapter one and chapter two, but I'd say it's been a few months.

As for why I dumped my original version of chapter two (and three... and four...) it's because I realized that by jumping straight to near-canon, I'd effectively be wasting about six years of character interactions and world-building... something that's sometimes skimmed over in RWBY.

As of yet, I still don't have a beta, so if you have any concerns regarding the story, please let me know!

XXX

Jaune's brow sweated into his hands as he glared down at the stack of paper topping his desk. He let his eyes trail to the side for a moment, but he caught himself and brought his attention back to the papers.

It was only then that he realized that he was holding his breath out of stress. With a loud sigh, he whispered, "Screw this…"

His body was sore. Really sore. He'd spent the entire afternoon sparring with his father, so by –he checked the clock on his night table– ten at night, he would've wanted to be in bed, resting so that he could be reinvigorated the next day.

That wasn't an option for him, however. Since he missed a lot of class, he had a lot of work to catch up on. But since his "itinerary" is already prepared for him in advance, when does he have a chance to do said work?

Unfortunately, the answer would be "now". Right now, at ten in the evening, when he had to be up at five the next morning for pre-class conditioning with his father.

With shaky hands, he thumbed through the papers for what could have been the tenth time.

Lab reports, essays, algebra homework…

He was spreading himself too thin; he couldn't keep up with it.

Torn as he was, Jaune couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. On one hand, he needed to get stronger, but on the other, he could imagine just how disappointed Jeanne would be if she knew he chose to disregard his studies.

As tired as he was, he pushed on. Like most nights, he wouldn't be able to rest until well past midnight.

Jaune picked up his pencil one more time fully intending to finish his math homework if nothing else.

KNOCK, KNOCK

His door opened a crack. As Jaune swiveled in his chair, he caught his father's head poking through the bedroom's entrance.

"Jaune, are you busy right now?"

The boy took one last glance at his schoolwork. He couldn't really imagine himself keeping it up for much longer today.

"No, what's wrong?"

His father took the initiative and fully entered the space. Uncharacteristically of him, Jacques shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "…Do you mind coming downstairs for a moment? There's something I have for you."

"Sure."

A strange silence overtook both of them.

"Well then…" Jacques scratched the back of his head. Whatever it was he had prepared, he evidently wasn't too keen about it. "I'll meet you by the fireplace when you're ready."

Jaune was left alone in his room once again, and his thoughts were allowed to meander. The report for his first school term would be given to him soon…

Would he be alright?

His frustrated grimace eased into a resigned frown. Well, whatever happens, happens, he supposed.

Jaune left his room.

XX

The two Arc males stood in front of the fireplace, and for whatever reason, Jacques was glaring a hole right into it. Jaune didn't think it was any different; it was still the same brick and mortar fireplace that stood out with the contrasting drywall and the ornamental spear that hung over it.

The boy soon found out that it was, in fact, the spear that his father was glaring at, as he gingerly lifted it from its stand and stared at it some more.

"…Dad?"

Jacques didn't answer him. Instead, he unfurled the cloth that was wrapped around the polearm for as long as Jaune could remember.

It was a flag, but the design on it wasn't at all familiar to the teen.

"Jaune, you remember what I told you about the Arc semblance, right?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, it's called Luminosité Éternelle, isn't it? It has its differences with each family member, but it basically it gives us some sort of divine protection, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I told you," his father nodded somberly, "but not quite the whole truth. Not even your sisters know about this –hell, you wouldn't either, if you weren't so bullheaded about being a huntsman."

"What...?"

"Our semblance doesn't really have a name. Many generations ago, people mistook Luminosité Éternelle for being the name of the Arc semblance when it was actually the name of this right here… the weapon that allows us to use our true power… or at least, for some of us," continued the taller man as he pushed the spear into his son's hand, "And now… the strength of the Arc name belongs to you. Luminosité Éternelle will be yours to wield. "

Jaune was rendered speechless. Really, what do you say to something like that? His father called him downstairs during the final hours of the day, then hit him with something huge like this.

If Jacques was expecting some kind of verbal response from his son, he surely didn't care enough to wait for one. "I've called your school and told them that you wouldn't be in tomorrow."

"Why's that?"

Jacques put the spear back in its place, but he wouldn't stop glaring at it. "We have an appointment with a weaponsmith in the morning. He rarely has available bookings, so this was all I could manage. I'm sorry… is that alright?" he asked in a strangely unassertive tone.

It wasn't Jaune's place to say. If his dad thought this was for the best, then it would be fine. "Yeah."

The older man straightened his shoulders as if a weight was removed from them. "Good… That's good. We'll skip practice tomorrow; go get a proper night's rest. We'll leave at eight."

The father wished his son good night and retired to his bedchambers.

It was only once he was left to his own devices that Jaune clued into what Jacques was saying.

A weaponsmith? Why were they visiting a weaponsmith?

XX

Though he was told he could sleep in, Jaune found himself waking up a little before five anyway. At this point, it was a matter of habit more than anything.

It sucked. He was tired.

The blonde stifled a yawn and forced himself out of bed. He figured he should be somewhat presentable, so he chose to wear a plain pair of slacks and a white shirt.

Never let it be said that Jaune Arc was one for fashion.

He tiptoed down the stairs, trying not to wake up the rest of his family with the unpreventable squeaks of the wooden steps.

"You're up early. I suppose it's to be expected."

It was no surprise that his father was seated at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. If Jaune was an early riser, then it was questionable if Jacques slept at all.

"Mhm." Jaune couldn't bring himself to stay alert during the early hours before the habitual morning training. As such, a weak, muffled response was all that he could manage.

Rather than coffee, the boy poured himself a glass of water. As he pulled out the chair next to his dad, he spoke softly, "I meant to ask you yesterday, but… why are we visiting a smithy?"

Though the difference in stature between a child and a powerful huntsman was too large to even bother mentioning, it was obvious that the pair were father and son. From the colour of their hair, to the wavy blond locks.

This was accentuated by their equally tired expressions, though while one was tired because of his waking hour, the other dealt with a separate matter entirely.

These past few months, Jacques looked tired more often than not.

"As it is now, that glorified centerpiece won't do you much good as a weapon. It's my intention to solve that issue as soon as possible."

Jaune was confused. From what he gathered, Luminosité Éternelle was a treasure that leads the Arc family to fame on the battlefield. It could be a little old, but that didn't mean–

I appreciate your fondness for your weapon, but even if it's just for training, it wouldn't be ideal. Why are you so insistent?

Remembering the redhead girl's words from back then, he felt as if his head cleared a little.

In the end, there was still a lot he didn't know.

"So what's the plan, then?"

"While the weapon itself has become frail, the materials it was crafted from –as well as its properties– are beyond priceless," explained the Arc patriarch. "The man we're visiting is a good friend of mine, so he'll be more than happy to take some time to discuss how we can turn that old relic into something more suited to a modern huntsman."

Before Jaune could further question the man, creaks of a staircase that the rest of the family was starting to wake up. Still, it was pretty early, so that meant that it was–

"Garnet. Good morning," greeted the boy.

Garnet was Jaune's older sister by two years. Her dark blonde hair was kept short as a bob cut, which gave her otherwise angelic face a strongly contrasting tomboyish appearance.

"Hey, dad. S'up, dimwit."

"Garnet," stressed Jacques, as if he were tired of saying it. "How often do I tell you not to call your brother names?"

On the other hand, Jaune learned long ago not to let what his sister says get to him. The name-calling went in one ear, out the other.

"But Dad," whined Garnet as she took her sneakers out of the front closet. She was likely getting ready for her morning run. "He is a dimwit. Didn't he fail his last two tests?"

Shoot. He was trying to keep that from–

"Jaune, is this true?"

The blonde boy hoped that by avoiding his father's gaze, he would become invisible.

"…We'll talk about this later."

Screw you, Garnet!

Thankfully, the matter was dropped for the moment as the rest of the Arc family woke from their slumber and made their way to the kitchen.

"Morning."

"Good morning!"

"…Mornin'."

"Hn…"

"Good morning."

It didn't take long for all of his sisters to gather around the extra-large table. Within moments, the previously quiet space turned into a cacophony of dishes being arranged, bodies scrambling around and senseless chatter.

Their mother was the last to come into the room. "Good morning everyone."

The woman kissed her youngest, Jade, on the forehead and sat between Sapphire and her husband.

"You're taking Jaune to get his weapon made today, right?"

Garnet, who hadn't quite made her way out the door yet, exclaimed, "Yo! That's badass!"

Isabelle scowled. "Language, young lady."

"Sorry mom." Garnet didn't sound too sorry. She ran up behind her little brother and gave him a noogie. "You might be stupid, but at least you're getting a cool weapon!"

Isabelle nearly shrieked. "Garnet!"

Needless to say, Garnet's name was often shouted in the Arc household.

"What, you too? It's not my fault that his grades are sh–hmf!?"

Jaune was quick to cover the girl's mouth with his hands.

The damage was done. Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "Jaune… what's this about your grades?"

In a moment of weakness, the woman's only son looked to his father pleadingly.

Jacques sighed. "We can discuss your academics when we get back. Senji is a busy man, so we might be better off leaving early. Jaune, get in the car."

"Yes, dad!"

He didn't have to be told twice.

Isabelle frowned. "Don't think this is over, Jaune."

An uncomfortable concoction of guilt and foreboding swelled in his stomach.

"Yeah."

Once Jaune left the room, Isabelle leveled her fierce gaze on her husband.

"Jacques–"

"Yeah, I know."

This was probably his fault.

After kissing his daughters on the forehead, the man followed his son out the door.

As the two pulled out of the house's driveway, neither noticed the envelope sitting in their mailbox.

XX

After a long drive to the smithy and a shorter talk with the secretary, the Arcs found themselves seated in a consultation room, waiting for the head of the establishment to come in.

"It's been a while, Jack."

A man came in and took a seat behind the large oak bureau across from them.

Jaune was surprised by how young he looked; even though he and his dad were friends, the man didn't look a day over thirty. His sunset-red hair didn't have a single fleck of gray, and his ochre eyes held a certain youthfulness in them. He was dressed oddly, foregoing a shirt entirely and simply wearing a white haori draped over his shoulders.

His father got to his feet to shake the man's hand. "Senji. What do you think? Can you pull it off?"

The younger blonde didn't know what they were talking about, but he supposed they discussed everything on the phone beforehand.

The red-haired man and stretched his arms over his head. The action made his tempered frame ripple under his odd garb. "Well…" the man paused. "I'm certainly glad you brought this to me instead of someone else. While I can't promise you anything result-wise, I can promise you that any other smith this part of remnant would wreck this job."

"Of course. You are the great Senji Muramasa after all. How long would it take?"

Muramasa chuckled. He addressed the younger blonde. "It's gonna be your weapon, right kid? Then for a risky job like this, I'll need the go-ahead from you as well."

"I'm very sorry sir… I don't think I quite understand what's going on."

"…BAHAHA!" Muramasa burst out laughing. "Sir? The kid's all polite'n shit! Jack, I didn't think you had it in ya ta raise'm this way! –Oh… thinkin' on it, it's yer wifey's doin', 'innit?"

The man's sudden change of character caught Jaune flat-footed. He didn't know what to say.

Jacques shook his head with a small smile. "No, I think it was more Jeanne than anyone else."

"Oh, erm… right. Sorry." Just as quickly as it came, Muramasa's personality was back to how it was. "I'm… You have my condolences for your loss, Jack."

"It's alright, Senji. It's something we're trying to come to terms with."

Any positive energy in the room was long gone.

"So… what was it that's been decided?" Jaune tried to steer things back on course.

"Yes, sorry." Senji coughed and brought out three eighteen by twenty-four sheets he had rolled under his desk.

"Incredible," breathed Jacques in awe. "In such a short amount of time you've already…"

"Yeah, these are three plans that I drew up. The intention is to scrap one of Vale's most revered symbols of peace and use key parts of it to craft the best mecha-shift weapon I can." He landed an unreadable expression on the kid. "This is what I'm doing, and what you're responsible for making me do. What's your decision?"

Jaune didn't know what he should say. He turned to his dad who gave him an assuring smile.

"Yeah…–I mean, yes. We're in your care."

"Good!" The blacksmith got up from his chair and shook both of their hands. "I don't have any ongoing projects that currently require my direct supervision, so I would say the whole job, beginning to end shouldn't take more than a month and a half if everything goes the way it should."

Jaune didn't know if that was a good time or a bad one. His dad seemed to trust the guy, so that was enough, right?

Jacques hummed. "There is one thing I'm a little worried about though. There's no question that you're the best craftsman in the business when it comes to quality weapons, but will you be alright with the mecha-shift?"

Muramasa waved dismissively. "A huntsman's weapon is no simple side project. Your own was a special case as it hadn't anything too complicated to it. I was enough. However, you will find that a mecha-shift weapon of even subpar quality will have a team of engineers, mechanics, and designers working around the clock with the forge master."

The older Arc clasped the blacksmith's shoulder in a friendly way. "Thank you for this, Senji. The payment will be as we discussed?"

"Of course."

The two left the family heirloom with the muscular red-clad man. After saying their goodbyes, they made their way back to the car.

"…Hey dad." Jaune found the words to express his concerns to his father.

"Hm?"

"Luminosité Éternelle is supposed to be, like, super important right? I know you said that it was a little too old, but is it really alright to scrap it like this?"

Jacques put the keys in the ignition but didn't turn anything on. "There are reasons I have for this, Jaune: two, mostly. For one, going around with the damn thing would put a huge target on your back. Many dangerous people could easily recognise it and decide to kill you… or at the least, take advantage of you." Ozpin came to mind for the second case.

"And the second reason?"

"I really, really don't like it."

"Oh."

They drove back home in silence.

XX

Jaune knew something was wrong the second he entered the house. There was malignant energy emanating from the living room.

"JAUNE. COME HERE."

His mother's voice was much scarier than he remembered.

He looked back to his father, only to be met with a look that said, "good luck" and a weak pat on the shoulder.

The blonde gulped and shuffled his way into the next room.

He wished he hadn't.

The glare his mother shot him was the look you gave to someone that murdered your first-born son –ignoring, of course, that said first-born son was him.

He knew where this was going the second he noticed his school's emblem on the manila folder placed on the coffee table.

"Do you know what this is, Jaune?"

"…Yeah."

"Do you know why I'm upset with you, Jaune?"

"…"

"Jaune."

"Yes, mom."

Her frown lessened, if just barely, as she picked up the envelope to flip through its contents one more time. "You've failed practically all of your courses. Why didn't you tell me this was happening? We could have gotten a tutor for you."

Jaune buried his fists into his thighs. "I can't… I couldn't. I have to make sure I'm ready for training."

"What are– JACQUES, GET IN HERE NOW!" though her scream was definitely heard by his sisters, they were accustomed that tone well enough to know that it would be in their best interest to stay away.

The man was calm when he came, but his closed eyes told the story on someone resigned to their fate. "Yes, dear?"

"You'll be reducing Jaune's training effective immediately. We need to schedule in time for a tutor."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

To Jaune, it felt like the temperature in the room became glacial.

"Excuse me?"

"If he's going to be a huntsman, then he needs all the–"

"Damnit, Jacques! Get your head out of your ass! We all know that Jaune's trying his best to become a huntsman, but that doesn't mean he can shirk his duties as a student."

"He can't just be 'trying his best', Isabelle! THAT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!"

For a moment, Jaune feared the silence more than the screaming.

Isabelle tore her gaze off of her husband for a moment. "Go to your room, Jaune. We'll talk about this more tomorrow."

"But–"

"Go now, Jaune."

The boy dragged his feet up the creaky stairs, and almost flinched when his parents started to yell at each other again. He caught Garnet peering through the crack of her door with a watery frown.

"Jaune… I didn't mean for things to happen like this when I said those things earlier."

"Yeah, I know. It's okay."

Jaune forgave people really easily. For the rest of the Arc family, this was a fact. However, that didn't mean that Garnet felt any less terrible.

She left her room and embraced her brother in a tight hug in the hallway. "I'm your big sister. I'm sorry if I don't always act like it."

Jaune couldn't see her face, but it was unusual for her to act this gently. "…Garnet? Are you alright?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she held him tighter.

XX

Jaune's parents called him downstairs a few hours later. Thankfully, the screaming quieted early on, so the most that the kids could hear was the odd heated response.

Once again, he was alone in the living room with his parents. His mother's expression was complicated while his father's was somewhere between a pout and stoic.

"Jaune, your father and I have talked about this heatedly, and I… we…" she was having a hard time trying to say what she wanted. "We've decided that you'll be changing schools."

That's it?

"What your mother means to say," interjected Jacques, "is that you'll be going to a Primary Combat School from now on.

That wasn't expected. "Wait, you mean like Pharos academy in the city? Isn't that far?"

"No, not Pharos," Jacques replied. "But you've got the right idea. Do you know where Patch is?"

"Uh…" thought Jaune. "It's a nearby island, right? The ferry goes there."

"Yes. It's an hour both ways. You'll be going to school there."

Huh? "Why Patch, though? Actually, why am I changing schools at all?"

His mother answered, "Your father has had enough of a hand in your development. Seeing as how that didn't allow for you to sustain your grades," –Jacques looked away– "We'll be leaving your development as a huntsman to tried and true methods."

"And that's why we chose Patch," his father continued the thought. "Even though Pharos is in the city proper, I'd wager that Signal Academy is the best preparatory school in the kingdom."

"Wait, really?"

That was impressive, considering his father wasn't one to exaggerate much.

"Yeah, I was there myself before I transferred to Beacon, back in the day. I was even ranked number one in my draft class!"

"Draft class? What's that?"

"I guess that's something you should be aware of, now that you'll be going to a sanctioned combat school." Jacques leaned back into the couch. Evidently, he felt as if the conversation moved on to easier subjects, rather than discussing his lack of ability to nurture his only son. "I'll need to give you a little context for you to understand this properly."

"Is it that complicated?"

"No," the older man shook his head, "but it doesn't make much sense otherwise. You know how the kingdoms have peace treaties and alliances, right? Well, the four major academies –Shade, Haven, Alsi… er… Atlas Academy and Beacon– acknowledge a pact that supersedes those alliances."

Never would Jaune have thought that such a thing was possible. Wait, really?

The Arc continued, "This is crucial since it's the responsibility of those academies to raise our primary line of defense against the grimm: huntsmen and huntresses. The pact has many clauses that facilitate that, and that's where draft classes come in."

"I… see…"

The boy didn't, really, but he hoped that things would clear up if he let his father finish.

"Every student enlisted in a Primary Combat School is monitored by an association that gathers and compiles information like academic standing, combat ability, and so on. From this, they essentially rank all huntsman-hopefuls in order of what they think is 'potential'. This information is distributed to all the academies free of charge, regardless of the kingdom they're in."

Jaune was starting to understand, but… "So even if I'm from Vale, that doesn't mean that I won't go somewhere like Mistral or Vacuo?"

A nod. "Do you understand why this is important now? Being part of a draft class isn't just an honor. It's an advantage. You're not limited to where you can go for secondary combat school, and the higher you rank, the easier you'll be accepted."

The Arc boy bobbed his head. It was decided then. If he wanted to do his parents –and Jeanne– proud, he would have to aim for the top spot. If Signal on the island of Patch could help his dad become number one, then it would serve him well to go there too.

"I'll do my best to be first, then. No matter what." He thought back to how much he had been neglecting the rest of his learning, and promptly turned his gaze to his mother who, up until now, had remained quiet. "And mom… I promise I'll do everything I can to get better grades."

Isabelle didn't say anything. She didn't have to. A smile was all her son needed to know that she appreciated what he said.

He was an emotional kid, and sometimes that meant that he wasn't perfect. Some things slid past him. There wasn't a doubt in her mind, however, that her polite little boy always tries his hardest to please others.

For better or for worse.

"So, what now, then? When do I start?" The couple's only son was at a loss, mostly because his every waking hour wasn't about training anymore.

Or at least, he thought.

His father quickly dashed those hopes.

"The Tuesday after next, right at the beginning of the next term. After dinner, we can talk about our adjusted training arrangement."

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. Now go call your sisters and figure out what you want for dinner."

XX

Jaune gazed hopefully at the building in front of him, labeled only with a spray-painted sign that read "Spare Parts and Metalwork".

He'd been following the map his dad gave him for the past few hours, but for some reason, he kept getting lost. Either he would wind up at the wrong place, or he'd accidentally retrace his steps and circle back to where he started.

Still, the first impressions of the store weren't great. He'd never been to downtown Vale on his own before, but he figured that things wouldn't be this… run down.

He remembered his father's words from that morning.

"Since you'll be going to a real combat school, they're legally required to make sure you wear armor during practical lessons. Go to this shop here; it's where I'd get my training gear while growing up."

"On my own?"

"Once you start at your new school, you'll be taking the ferry on your own, anyway. It'll be good for you to get used to traveling by yourself. If you run into any trouble, give me a call."

Honestly, it wouldn't be surprising if the shop didn't exist anymore. Jacques Arc hadn't been here in what was probably decades.

…And what was he thinking, sending his twelve-year-old son to the city without supervision? How the hell did he sneak that one past his mother?

Nonetheless, he walked through the front door.

The interior was, unfortunately, just as bad as the outside. Junk pieces of metal were strewn across a dusty cement floor. Though there were actual shelves near the back, the items they held were sloppily positioned, and some had even tipped over onto the ground.

Just who ran this place?

Just as he was about to turn back and head home, something shiny was caught in the corner of his eye.

…A shin guard?

Jaune took a moment to re-examine the shop. Among the car parts and stray screws, there were actually entire sets of body armor. They looked old and worn, but the sheer variety was unquestionable.

So this really was where his dad bought his armor as a kid.

He picked up the first chest plate that seemed to be roughly the right size and slipped the buckle around his torso.

"Aw, darn it!"

The exclamation came from the other side of the shelves. It sounded like a girl.

Curiously, Jaune peeked his head around the corner to see a blonde around his age twiddling some weird metal thing around her fingers. "I thought for sure this was the right size, though…"

She noticed him. "Hey, who are you?"

The boy stepped out in full sight and scratched the back of his head. "Uhm, me?"

"Duh, who else? And why were you staring at me? You're weird."

Hey! That's not something you just come out and say! "I'm Jaune. And I'm not weird, I just heard a voice, and so I was curious to see who else was in this place. That's all."

The girl noticed that he was half-wearing a chest plate. "What's with the chunk of metal?"

She was pretty rude, wasn't she? "It's not a chunk of metal, it's body armour! I'm transferring to a huntsman primary school soon, so I was gonna pick up some new stuff for combat training. It's something we need to have!"

"Pfft."

"What was that!?"

"Oh nothing," she replied, though the tone of her voice indicated that it was clearly 'something'. "It's just that, I can tell you've never actually been in a combat class"

Was it really that obvious? When he was training with his dad, they never really used armour. They settled with the clothes on their backs and metal poles as weapons. "What? How? I mean… it's my first time at a place like this, so…"

"Oh, I get it– yowch!" she instinctively drove her fist into her palm, but forgot about the metal contraption she was holding. As a result, she jammed it right into her hand.

She shook it off and pretended it never happened. Jaune thought it was pretty impressive that she could do that. "You're starting your first year late, right?"

"Yeah."

"I see, I see."

When did he get sucked into talking with this strange girl, exactly? "You 'see'? See what?"

She didn't answer his question. "I'll help you out then. This place is kind of a dump, but there's definitely nicer stuff than that."

"…Huh?" he asked dumbly as the other blonde pushed him back to the other side of the shelf. She quickly stripped him of the metal chest plate and fastened a different one to him.

"This one, maybe? No…" She did the same with almost all of the armours present, whether they fit him or not. Eventually, she found one that she was pleased with.

"This is the one!"

It was elegant, if a little plain. A silver-colored plate covered his chest and sternum, while the gorget fit in an almost streamlined fashion around his neck. It fit comfortably over his black t-shirt.

"Erm... thank you for your help. I'll go find myself some shin guards and–"

She cut him off. "Nah, you don't really need all that stuff."

"What do you mean?" He thought that she was the owner's daughter, but she seemed to think that she knows a lot about the training that goes on in Primary Combat Schools.

"I don't know what it's like at the place you're going to, but for us, all you really need is one piece of armour to be allowed to do mock battles. Anything more than that would just slow you down since you have aura."

So she actually goes to a combat school too? He would suppose that she went to Pharos, since it was so close to here.

What she was saying did make sense to him, though. Thinking back on it, Whenever Jeanne or his father would go on missions, their armour was minimal and strangely placed.

Out of courtesy, he bowed. "Thank you very much for your help."

"Uh.. wha…" The girl probably wasn't used to people actually bowing to her.

"I'm going to take this then and–"

"Hooooold up there, bucko." She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "I helped you, so that means that you have to help me, now!"

What?

XX

Jaune stared emptily at the pile of junk parts in front of him. The other blonde had her arms crossed under her yet-to-flourish bosom, glaring in turn at the same metal piece from earlier.

"So, what is it that I'm looking for again?"

A sigh. She showed him the part for what was probably the hundredth time. "A spark plug. You're looking for a spark plug that looks like this one."

"I still don't know what that is."

"It's something that I need to fix my motorcycle."

"Wait, what?" How old was she again? "You drive a motorcycle?"

She looked away. "Well, no, not yet… But I will! My dad has this old bike that doesn't work anymore, and he said that if I can fix it, he'd give it to me when I turn sixteen!"

She sounded awfully excited about it.

"I… see. And if you find this part here, the motorcycle will work again?"

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "Not even close. I have a lot of work to do, but… It's worth it!"

Jaune could've sworn her face was twinkling, with how bright her smile was. Hers was an expression of someone determined.

Without wasting a second more, he began to shuffle through the mess of metal parts. "Is it this thing here?"

"Let me see?... No, it's not wide enough."

This went on for another hour. The two covered close to the whole store before finally finding the piece in question.

"It's really it?... It is! I found it!" the blonde girl cheered as she held up a spark plug that was near identical to her damaged one.

"Wasn't it me that found it though?" Jaune liked to think that he wasn't sulking, but reality was often disappointing that way.

"Yeah, you're right," she acknowledged. She punched him on the shoulder. "Thanks, dude!"

He flashed a bright smile. "No problem! You helped me out too, I guess."

Jaune noticed the sky was changing to a warmer colour. "…It's getting late, so I'll need to head home. I live pretty far from here, after all."

The girl almost jumped. "Nuts! Me too! Aw, my dad'll kill me if I don't make it home for dinner!"

So she wasn't the daughter of the person that ran this place? Huh.

As she mumbled something about ferries and infrequent departures, she was almost caught off guard by the hand held out to her face.

"Hm?"

"Thanks again for helping me with the armour. Don't be a stranger if we meet again."

The girl shook the hand. "Yeah!"

She dropped some lien on the unoccupied cash register at the front of the store and b-lined to the exit. She froze and said over her shoulder, "My name's Yang, by the way. See you around, Jaune!"

Through the dusty windows, Jaune could make out Yang's figure sprinting down the street.

Yang, huh? If he had to describe her in one word, it would be 'exuberant'.

But in a good way.

XX

A deep breath.

"Ah…"

Jaune couldn't help his nerves as he stood at the door of a classroom he'd never seen before today. On the other side, there would be a teacher and numerous students that had dreams and aspirations similar to his.

The situation was very different than at his last school. There, it didn't matter if he made friends, or even what other people thought about him. He was different. He would only be at school for part of the day, so he never talked to anyone long enough to make friends. He wanted to be a huntsman, but everyone else was there to live normal, everyday lives.

It wasn't like that anymore.

He'd be a student here full time, just like the others in the class. He'd be given plenty of time to make as many friends as he wanted.

Additionally, everyone in the class had the same goal.

To be a huntsman.

When he talked to others his age, he just couldn't connect with them. The same could be said about his sisters, to a lesser degree. When your perception and aspirations were so far removed from those around you, it simply isn't possible to bond on the same level anymore.

There were people like him here.

Another deep breath.

He pushed the door open and walked with assured steps.

"…and so we'll have a new student transferring in today. You can come– oh, you already here."

Jaune blushed, mortified as he realized that he came in without being invited first.

He felt everyone's stares. The teacher's analytical gaze, as well as the curious looks from his soon-to-be classmates.

Said teacher, a scruffy dark-haired man in a cape, coughed into his hands. "Well… anyway, since you're here, why don't you introduce yourself to your peers?"

The blonde boy's gaze swept over the heads of the people he'd be spending the next six years of his life alongside. "My name is Jaune, of the Arc family." As he spoke, he began to feel some confidence returning to him. He made a conscious effort to keep a straight back. "I intend to spend these next years doing everything I can to become the best huntsman I can be. I hope that we can all get along."

Among the class, he heard a drone of "Hi, Jaune," and "Welcome". It sounded more habitual than genuine. Jaune felt as if the wind was taken from his sails.

The silence that followed was cut by the teacher opening a book against his desk. "Now that we got introductions over with, why don't–"

"Actually! I…" The blonde Arc didn't know what he was saying, or why he felt the need to interrupt the teacher to say it.

"I…" his voice found its confidence again. "I'm going to graduate first overall in our year's draft class!"

It was only after he said it that Jaune realized that he basically announced he'd be aiming to be better than everyone else present.

Compared to before, the murmurs that broke out were less of a drone, and more of an agitated cacophony of surprised tweens.

"Did he really just say that?"

"Isn't this like the one comic where the main character swears that he'll become Hokake?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it's pronounced, but…"

"He's got guts, I'll give him that."

"Come to think of it, didn't Xiao Long say the same thing last semester?"

"People like him kind of piss me off, to be honest."

…Jaune had a feeling that he killed his chance of making a good first impression.

XX

Qrow Branwen, teacher at Signal Primary Combat School, stumbled into the teacher's lounge with every intention to drop face-first into the communal sofa. For once, it wasn't because he was drunk.

What a rough day.

"Hm? Qrow?" a blonde man called out to him. "You okay?"

"Taiyang." Qrow's acknowledgement came out muffled by the pillows beneath him. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

Taiyang poured two cups of coffee and nudged the dark-haired man's head with one of them. "Wanna talk about it?"

With an unintelligible grumble, the man sat up and took the coffee.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

After a long sip, Qrow asked, "You know how I got a new kid in my class, right?"

"The Arc kid, right?"

"Yep. You know what the first thing he said was? That he'd graduate number one overall."

Taiyang chuckled. "Isn't that what Yang–"

"It's exactly what Yang said." Qrow evidently didn't find it as funny as his fellow professor. "I couldn't keep the class quiet for more than five minutes at a time; the little runts kept trying to ask him questions, like they couldn't figure out if they respected him for saying something so gutsy, or hated him for being such an arrogant prick."

"You shouldn't go around calling your students arrogant pricks, you know."

"Bah," was his answer. "As if the apple ever falls far from the tree."

"You still can't get along with Jacques, huh?"

"Nope."

"Figures."

The two sat in silence on the couch, occasional sips of coffee the only sounds to be heard.

"Do you think he'll do well?" asked Taiyang once his cup was emptied.

"The Arc kid? Dunno, we'll have to wait and see. I heard from his father that he fell behind in his studies."

"I meant in combat."

Qrow's expression became uncharacteristically even. "That? Well, I mean… If Jacques trained him, then I'm sure he'll be fine.

XX

Yang, wearing plain black leggings and a brown t-shirt, was crouched by her locker to put on her outdoor shoes –a pair of leather boots. Half the school day was over, and she fully intended to take advantage of the first recess of the semester.

"Yang, you coming?"

Her friends called out to her from further down the hall.

"Just a second!"

She took the elastic from her wrist and tied the length of her hair in a ponytail. As she did so, she made her way towards the other girls.

She was hugged by a short brown-haired girl. "Yang, where have you been all break? You didn't come hang out with us, like at all! Was it a boy?"

"What?" at twelve years of age, Yang hadn't yet begun to understand why a woman would be attracted to the other sex. "Ew, no. I was working on the motorcycle."

"That thing again?" She could almost feel the others rolling their eyes.

She shook it off, of course. They just didn't know how awesome her bike was.

"Hey, did you hear about the new kid?"

It wasn't one of her friends that said that. It was one of the boys from the other class talking to someone else.

"No, what about him?"

"The first thing he said when he showed up was 'I'm gonna be first overall'. Can you believe that?"

"Whoa. Do you think he was serious?"

"No clue. We have combat training tomorrow, though, so we'll find out."

Her brown-haired friend shook her shoulder gently. "Yang?"

"Uh, sorry. Did you say something?"

"No," she replied. "Are you alright?"

The blonde stared at the two boys further out for an instant longer before breaking her gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Now, who wants to spar!"

"Urg."

"Gross."

"Really?"

"Again?"

Yang pouted. What were they doing here to begin with, if they didn't want to get better at beating things up?

Their loss.