(A/N) Alright, I'll keep this as short as I can.
First, I'd like to apologize. If not for what I said, then at least for how I said it. Losing my cool isn't something that I do, and it's very unlikely that it'll happen again.
You know what? Imma go back on basically everything I said during the last A/N. If you wanna roast the shit outta something, well-reasoned or not, I fully invite you to do so. Everyone reading this is just as much a member of this community as I am, and it is your right to feel any way you want about what you read. It's an open platform, and I don't moderate reviews for that reason.
The previous A/N came about because of a bunch of coinciding events, many of them not even related to the story itself. A small (very small) part came from knowing that this chapter was where I was expecting the backlash in accordance to the fight, not after the fight itself (which is still the case). In fact, feel free to rip me a new one after reading. You'll know what I'm talking about real quick. I'm satisfied with how I progressed things, but that doesn't mean that you have to be.
(If it's any consolation, I had this planned before I finished writing the fight.)
Thank you to everyone who enjoys this story, regardless of how you chose to express your feelings towards it. I love y'all.
On a related note, I'm contemplating rewriting the first chapter of the story. I realize that a lot of the character interaction there feels artificial, and I'll aim to fix that in a way that doesn't disrupt continuity.
That's all! Thanks again for reading, and please enjoy!
XX
"Hello everyone, this is Dory, I'm Mory, and you're watching Mistral Live, with Dorothy and Morado."
"Let's get right to the meat and potatoes, Mory," Dorothy suggested. "There is no doubt about what's on everyone's mind right now."
Morado nodded. "Indeed, Dory. Here's the official draft standings, as published this morning by Remnant's four huntsman academies."
Their digital display behind them transitioned from their logo to a stylized one-through-ten ranking of the year's top huntsman prospects, along with the respective academies that the top ten had committed to.
Dorothy laughed, the gesture more incredulous than amused. "Where do we start? There's so much going on in one picture that I can barely wrap my head around it."
Morado nodded. "I feel that. If you showed this to someone before the tournament, they would've thought it was a joke."
His co-host scoffed. "And it doesn't sound like one now?"
He rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
"Don't get me wrong, no one –least of all me– was surprised to hear that Nikos was retiring from competitive fighting," Dorothy continued. "She all but confirmed it when she withdrew from the MRT to participate in the World Tournament. That said, for it to happen like this? I have to admit that I didn't put as much stock in the rumours as you did."
Morado quirked a brow. "I'm surprised that's the bit you're focused on."
XX
Most older students of Vale's Beacon Academy would say that they had a good grasp of their headmaster's character. If ever they were asked the question, "What do you think Professor Ozpin is doing right now?" they would answer "Hiding from Professor Goodwitch and drinking coffee in his office" nine times out of ten.
This was because the headmaster was very careful about how he portrayed himself. He was a man of many secrets, after all, and a good portion of his students were very curious by nature. It was necessary to make the children feel as though they had him "all figured out" so that they didn't feel inclined to poke their nose where it didn't belong in light of his "mysteriousness".
Of course, it was all a ruse.
It was mere coincidence that he was, at that moment, enjoying a pleasant brew while ignoring the messages that Glynda had left on his answering machine.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, his phone rang once more. He almost dismissed it but thankfully caught that the number wasn't Glynda's.
"James," he greeted.
"Ozpin."
"Is there something I can help you with, friend?"
"I… didn't say anything during the meeting. I voted in favour of your selection because I trust your judgement, but I can't say that I understand it. I just can't wrap my head around what makes him so special in your eyes."
Ah. He was wondering when the General would say something.
Ozpin knew what the man was talking about, of course. When the four headmasters assembled to finalize the ranking of the new year's drafted students, there was a fifty-fifty split in opinions on who would be at number one.
Usually, such things weren't an issue. It was very rare that a single prospect didn't set themselves apart from everyone else, and even when it was the case, the headmasters wouldn't mind which way the pendulum swayed.
This time, though…
"I saw potential, James. There's nothing more to it."
"I would argue that there is, in fact, more to it," countered the Atlesian. "Theodore seemed to be of the same opinion, after all."
Indeed, Professor Theodore shared the same vote as Ozpin, which completely baffled James and Leonardo since they thought that their own selection was the obvious one. James only deferred to Ozpin's judgement after it was clear that a tie-breaker would be needed.
"As someone born and raised in Vacuo, Theodore is a man who knows struggle; he knows what's important. For a huntsman, skillset is more valuable than skill itself. Besides, this is a school, isn't it? All else will come with time."
"…So it's a matter of semblances– or families, rather."
"It always is, unfortunately."
"The media won't like this. Whatever the case may be, it would have been more prudent to go through with the results expected by the public. These rankings are nothing more than a platitude for the masses."
Ozpin chuckled softly through the telephone line.
"Doing the 'expected' hasn't done much good in the past. I don't know why you'd think that would change now."
XX
"Jaune! A letter!"
His mother's call from downstairs snapped him out of his groggy state. Despite it already being close to eight in the morning, the jetlag from the return flight was still getting to him.
He rushed down the stairs. Jaune could hear the urgency in Isabelle's voice despite her efforts to sound calm.
There were no doubts as to what the letter would enclose.
He slowed to a stop once he arrived in the living room. His whole family –all six sisters included– were already there waiting for him.
His dad handed him the large, manila envelope silently, and he opened it with a shaky hand.
As the document came out, the first line became visible, on which was written "Letter of acceptance".
Jaune felt most of the tension leave him.
"I got in," he announced.
His family didn't share his relief.
"We knew that already, idiot!" Garnet shouted.
Of course.
To be honest, he didn't actually think that there would be a chance that he would be passed on either. He knew his worth as an aspiring huntsman.
The truth of the matter was that he was afraid of where he would land in the final standings. Since Signal was booted in the semifinals, there were fewer chances for the kingdoms' proctors to see the full scope of his ability. Seeing as how his only big-stage showing was a loss, well…
Forget first overall, would he even make the top ten?
The page moved up another inch, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his brow.
"Oh, just– give me that!"
Garnet snagged the envelope out of Jaune's hands, eliciting an undignified squawk from the boy. Her eyes shot back and forth as she read the mailed contents of the package.
Saphron frowned, realizing that her sister was keeping the message to herself. "Read it out loud, would you?"
It took the tomboy a moment to process the older girl's request. When she complied, her voice came out sounding dazed.
"Dear Mr. Arc… I am pleased to inform you that your first option, Vale's Beacon Academy, has accepted your application. You are invited, with distinct honours, to audition for a place in the class of the upcoming term," Garnet recited. With a gulp, she continued, "As selected by the community of our affiliated colleges, we are humbled to receive you as the first-ranked student of your draft class."
Garnet could barely finish the sentence before the rest of the Arc family went ballistic. Jaune's sisters practically tackled him, the only thing stopping him from falling being that they came at him from all directions.
Jaune himself was drawing a blank and was unable to process anything happening around him.
How?
That single word was all that was willing to pass through his mind. So baffled was he that he couldn't even begin to speculate what circumstances had led to this outcome.
First-ranked? As in first overall? How was that possible? Good fight or not, the reality was that Pyrrha had bested him in the first round of the international matches. Even disregarding that, she went on to win the whole thing. Unquestionably, she was the "MVP" of the whole tournament.
She was robbed. It was the truth, no matter how much he wanted this.
As always, the news got to him last. If he lived in the city, then he would've caught the national broadcast last night instead of waiting for Orleans' local stations to cover it.
Which they hadn't yet.
Jacques smirked, attempting to mask his own heavy emotions. "It's only right. He's an Arc, after all."
Isabelle approached her son and kissed him on the forehead. "We're so proud of you."
Garnet awkwardly interrupted the moment. "Ah…"
Once she had everyone's attention, she explained, "There's more, ya know."
To prove her point, she waved an attached bullhead flight ticket in front of her.
"For Beacon?" asked the Arc boy.
Instead of answering, she read the rest of the letter.
"As is the case for all applicants, you are being sent to one of four affiliated institutions –Atlas Academy, Beacon Academy, Haven Academy, Shade Academy– at random, where you will be expected to pass an initiation trial organized by the headmaster of the respective academies personally. As per community policy, all information on the time and destination of your departure will be found on the flight ticket enclosed with this message. For all further inquiries concerning travel restrictions, the loss of a ticket, or otherwise missing information, please contact your academy of enrolment at the following address…"
Garnet trailed off, now more interested in the ticket than reading out Beacon's provided contact information.
Jaune scratched the back of his head. He looked to his father, and asked, "Hold on… I got into Beacon, but I have to take some sort of test somewhere else?
The older man nodded. "It's a way for the Huntsman Academies to set a standardized bar for applicants. The academies used to hold initiation for their own students exclusively, but they found that their tests became too specialised over time. As a whole, the strengths and weaknesses of the student bodies became glaringly distinct from one academy to the next."
"This change was more about the group than the individual," added Isabelle. "Peer learning is a big part of the curriculum, and the truth is that it's easier for the individual to improve when there's diversity in the group."
Jacques grunted amusedly. "Of course, it's expected that the kids with a lick of talent would be able to pass either way. Regardless, the reasons are there."
Garnet, who was still preoccupied with other matters, covered her mouth with a hand. "…Pfft."
Jaune frowned. "What's so funny?"
His sister shoved the ticket into his awaiting hand.
"Make sure to pack extra sunscreen."
He read the destination and time of departure printed on the ticket.
"…Shade Academy?"
XX
"You had me come out all the way to patch just to see this?"
Mocha stared at Yang's finished pet project with unimpressed eyes.
"Yes, you jerk!" Yang shot back. She rubbed the top of her newly-refurbished motorcycle affectionately. "She's beati– I mean she will be beautiful once I give her a smexy new paint job!"
"So it works now?" continued Mocha unapologetically.
Instead of answering, the blonde twisted the throttle.
VROOM!
"Eep!"
Mocha jumped back with a hand covering her chest, attempting to get her heart rate back under control.
The taller girl laughed. "Loud, isn't it?"
"I almost had a heart attack!"
"Hahahaha–ouch!"
The blonde received a punch in the arm for her antics.
Mocha huffed and turned away.
The easygoing smile on Yang's face dimmed.
"Hey… Mocha."
"Hm?"
"What's your… plan?" she cringed. "For after… you know…"
"For school?"
A nod.
The brunette placed her hands on her hip. Not feeling the same discomfort as her friend, she answered, "I'm going to Vale's School of Business. I got a scholarship and everything."
"So you're really not coming to Beacon, huh?" Yang's expression wasn't quite sad, but it definitely wasn't happy either. There was a tone of acceptance in her voice.
"Yeah."
Neither spoke for a moment.
Despite her disappointment, Yang always knew that Mocha wouldn't follow her to Beacon. She was never really a fighter, and for the longest time, she wondered why she went to Signal in the first place. It was one of those things she never really tried to pry into– not something altogether characteristic of her.
"How about you?" asked the Adel sibling. "You get a letter from Beacon yet?"
Yang took the change of subject well.
"Mhm. I got in, but they're sending me to Haven for initiation."
Mocha smirked. "I remember Coco complaining about that. They dropped her sorry butt off in Vacuo, and the sand ruined her suede boots."
Yang snorted. "Seriously? She must have been pissed!"
"Yeah, she was. I heard that her team took the brunt of her undeserved fury for weeks after she got back to Beacon."
The huntress-to-be hummed. "That's right… how are teams going to work? Everyone going to Beacon is gonna be split up, so whoever's in charge of that will have a tough time matchmaking."
Combing a strand of her loose bangs behind her ear, her companion answered, "They use some sort of grading system during initiation, according to Coco. Duos are made once you get to wherever you're being evaluated, then the four-man teams are assembled at Beacon. She didn't give me any specifics, but they take a bunch of stuff into consideration: performance, leadership, deference, draft standing– ah! Speaking of which, how do you feel about yours?"
"…" Yang grumbled.
"Come again?"
"…It sucks."
Mocha laughed unsurely. "It's not that bad… come on now. You're in the top ten!"
"Sixth overall is bullshit!" raged Yang. "If we made it out of the first round, I would've been at least top three! I've been robbed! Robbed!"
Mocha blinked. "You must be really mad at Jaune then, huh?"
The blonde sighed. "Nah, I'm over him catching the L. He's probably in the same boat as me."
Her friend didn't know what to say right away. Slowly, as if diffusing an active bomb, she clarified, "You haven't seen the draft standings yet, have you?"
This was Patch, after all. The boonies got information long after it reached the City proper.
"They're out? I guess that's where you heard about my ranking…"
There was her answer, then. Mocha sighed. "Jaune's number one."
"The fuck?"
Jaune would not have a good time the next they met.
XX
WHACK.
WHACK.
TING!
"Again."
WHACK.
TING!
TING!
TING!
"…Again."
TING!
TING!
…
TING!
Pyrrha jumped back and took a gulp of air. Miló's Javelin form was held shakily in front of her.
"You're tiring, Pyrrha."
Her stance tightened immediately. Akoúo̱ shot up from where it weighed at her side to protect her center of mass.
"…That will be enough for today."
She relaxed. Sheathing her weapons, she bowed and spoke, "Thank you for the lesson, Father."
The man in front of her nodded. "Of course. I'm pleased with the effort you are putting into our spars; you have learned much from your lapse in performance."
"Of course, Father."
He gestured to the door leading out of the private dojo and walked towards it. "Come. Let's have breakfast."
Pyrrha smiled, despite her visible fatigue.
She had been training harder than usual since her return to Phthia. After learning that she'd ended up second overall, she knew that Jaune had the last laugh despite her victory. Naturally, she couldn't let that happen.
It would be rude to allow her rival to pull ahead in such an uncontested fashion.
Naturally, her father was in wholehearted support for the change in pace. He was prepared to lecture her for her "failure", as he'd put it, but he knew that words weren't needed once he caught on to her intentions.
She had already learned her "lesson".
There were no excuses to be made. Blathering about useless things such as "Rigged results" or "Poor choices on the part of the proctors" was not appreciated nor tolerated within the Nikos family. If she fell anywhere below number one, it was simply because she wasn't able to win convincingly enough.
Of course, the final moments of her bout with Jaune Arc was not a pretty sight. Far from a "convincing" performance, many glaring holes in her presented image of supposed "perfection" were brought to light on a public stage.
Simply put, her efforts were currently being put towards "perfecting perfection".
Her father, an enormous man sporting a bald head and jet-black kingly beard, took a seat at the head of the family's dining room table and motioned for her to take the one next to his. Sitting across wouldn't be proper, since the table itself was a good ten meters long.
They entertained a lot of guests.
Once they were both in place, a man in a bright white robe appeared before them followed by a trio of chefs.
"Lord Peleus, Lady Pyrrha. Good morning," greeted the robed man. "Will Madam Thetis be joining us?"
"No, Cedalion, she will not," replied the head of the house. "Thetis is still resting, and there is no need to wake her."
Pyrrha almost laughed. Her mother conceded much in her marriage to her father, but waking up before six in the morning was not one of those things.
The robed man bowed, and the chefs brought out their breakfast. Bowls of muesli were placed in front of them, topped with a variety of fruits and nuts. The simple dish was accompanied by a lush garden salad.
"Tell me, Pyrrha," began Peleus once they were left alone. "This boy… Jaune Arc. Is he the reason you wish to attend Beacon over Haven?"
"Yes, Father," she answered directly.
"I see. An understandable choice, then," the man commended. "When the opportunity to improve one's self is presented, it is wise to face the hydra head-on, not turn it away. I would have done the same in your shoes."
"Thank you, Father."
"What can you tell me about him?"
Pyrrha tilted her head by the slightest of margins. "I beg your pardon, Father?"
"I have not attended your matches in person since the first, and as such, I have nothing but second-hand information to judge the outcome of the semifinal. It goes without saying that a recording doesn't tell the whole story," the man admitted without any regret in his voice. "Though the results would indicate that I was wrong to believe your path to victory would be met without resistance, I can't say that I see where my beliefs were wrong in retrospect. Arc must have been something outside of the scope of my predictions, for him to have pushed you the way he did."
"…He is…" she tried to gather a suitable thought. "He is powerful."
"That wasn't in doubt."
The man's daughter shook her head. "I chose my words poorly. He is indeed naturally gifted physically, but what stood apart most of all was his conviction… or his mindset, rather."
"Oh?" Peleus grew interested.
"He was 'unrelenting', would be the best word. Most opponents that I fight become… discouraged when I push for control of the battle. Jaune, on the other hand, he…"
Pyrrha wriggled her nose. She lost herself in her own analysis of the encounter before finishing, "He didn't let me 'push'. No matter what I did, at no point did he think that he could not win."
"Hn," grunted Peleus. His thin smile denoted his satisfaction with the answer. "A most quintessential brood of the Arc family. I'm beginning to see what trail of thought would lead the headmasters to value him over you."
Hearing her father say that made Pyrrha feel something that she couldn't quite place. It wasn't a good feeling, per se, but neither was it an ill-intentioned one.
It was a pure feeling.
"How long before initiation, Father?"
"The flight to Haven is in two weeks, but I'll take you there personally," he replied.
Though she wouldn't be staying, Mistral wanted to keep her around for as long as possible.
"I will press to double the intensity of my training until then," she stated. It was not something she announced lightly, because the Nikos family took these sorts of statements quite literally.
Though some would call it an impossible task, she would find a way to increase her productivity by one hundred percent.
Peleus smiled proudly.
"I would expect nothing less from you, Daughter."
XX
As always, Jaune was the last one to step off the bullhead. He allowed all other initiates to exit the aircraft before him as he took his time to gather his wits. He would not projectile vomit all over the interior of the multi-million lien transport.
His semblance could protect him from many things, but unfortunately, his terrible motion sickness was not one of those things.
He would rather not share that particular issue of his with the world, if he could help it.
Now stripped of the protection of the bullhead's regulated interior lighting, his eyes were forced to adjust to Vacuo's intense and biting sun. His hand came over top to protect them as he tried to make out what was in front of him.
The first and most visible figure was Shade Academy's gargantuan structure, followed by the surrounding flora which provided an unexpectedly nice contrast with the desert landscape. As he could now personally attest, the academy was, in fact, built on an oasis.
The private airstrip on which his bullhead landed was not alone. There were two landed a hundred or so meters away, and a third could be seen descending with its landing gear in place. If Jaune were to guess, the other bullheads were for the Atlesian, Mistralian, and Vacuan students respectively.
The blonde took a moment to probe over the heads of those around him. Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone he recognized.
"All initiates, direct your attention this way. Come closer too, so that you can all hear me."
The quiet muttering amongst those familiar with each other came to a halt. The students-to-be followed the sound of the voice to find a man standing at the junction where the landing pad met the school's walkway. A portable loudspeaker was held up to his mouth.
As they approached, everyone could get a clearer view of the man.
His hair was peculiar, though far from the strangest Jaune had ever seen. It was a dark blue in colour, a mullet pulled into a long ponytail. His outfit matched, though most would go as far as to call it plain-looking. It was a jumpsuit with little armour other than a pair of silver pauldrons.
"I'm the professor in charge of one of four simultaneously-run entrance exams. Unless you manage to pass and just so happen to be one of Shade's invitees, you won't have to worry about anything more than that. If you feel like you need to ask a question, just call me "Professor". That said, any questions so far?"
…
"Good. Excuse me for the short notice, but I'll go ahead and get right into the structure of this exam."
The man cleared his throat.
"Everyone's getting back in the bullheads, and we're dropping you off in the desert in groups of two in random locations. Your objective is to find your way back here in twelve hours. Preferably alive and in one piece. There're only so many spots available for each school, so the ones to pass will be the first forty duos of prospects for each academy, for a total of three hundred and twenty examinees getting through out of the twelve hundred being evaluated.
Murmurs erupted amongst the crowd, but there were no cries of outrage. Though it was disheartening to hear that so many students would be let go after being invited to an already-limited "tryout", everyone understood the exclusivity of a huntsman academy.
"There aren't many rules, so be sure to remember them," continued the professor. "Try not to kill anyone. We'll be watching you with drones."
"…"
There was a shared silence as the attentive students waited for him to continue.
He didn't.
"Professor! Can we attack other duos to slow them down?" shouted someone near the middle.
"I guess so. Any other questions?"
The prospects were catching on that "try not to kill anyone" really was the only rule.
Jaune lifted his hand out of habit. When he realised that he wasn't going to be pointed out he blushed and spoke, "Are the partnerships going to carry over into our huntsman teams?"
The professor snapped his fingers. "I guess I should have made that more clear. Yes, your partner here will be your partner for however long your time as a huntsman-in-training lasts– be it four years or just the next few hours. Don't worry though, the colleges made sure to match you all up as well as they could."
He waited a moment longer for another question.
"Okay! Run along now."
Being dismissed, the applicants returned to the bullheads they arrived in, and all four took off within the next five to ten minutes. It wasn't long before Shade Academy's airstrip was vacated, leaving the professor alone in the area.
Another man stepped into sight next to the professor.
"Theo," greeted the professor casually. The loudspeaker was dropped to his waist. "Nice to see you finally showed up. I didn't enjoy my role as an orator, in case you were wondering."
The man didn't answer directly, but he did flash an amused smile. "So? Did you spot mister First-Overall?
The blue-haired professor scoffed. "I still think you're crazy for taking a first-round bump over Nikos."
"That's not what I asked."
"…Yeah, he was there."
"Great!" cheered the other man. "I want cameras on him at all times."
XX
Jaune watched as the flight crew directed certain pairs to jump off the moving aircraft at seemingly random intervals, and had to cover his mouth to keep back bile whenever the ship maneuvered to give the jumpers a better angle. Some onlookers looked nervous for their turn, but Jaune was close to begging the crew to let him jump off next.
He was not appreciating how often the bullhead was tilting to the side right now.
The person standing next to him tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the attendant looking at him expectantly. Was he called up? He didn't notice.
He marched up to the side, and seeing as how he wasn't told otherwise, threw himself out the open door. The way down wasn't too bad –only being some twenty or thirty meters to the ground– so he just buckled his knees and let his aura do the rest.
A cloud of dust erupted from his landing spot, so he was forced to walk forward a few paces to regain his vision. When he did, he spotted a black-haired boy who appeared to be around his age.
His partner, apparently.
The blonde put on the friendliest smile that he could muster. Extending a hand, he introduced himself, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm–"
"Jaune Arc," finished his partner, catching him off guard. "I'm aware."
With a dim smile, he returned the introduction and shook Jaune's hand. "I'm Ren. Lie Ren."
XX
Yang wasn't having a good day. Or week. Or… you know what? She just wasn't feeling it recently.
This, though? This took the cake.
Yeah, she didn't get the draft ranking she wanted. Whatever. She got over it. Yeah, one of her best friends finessed the top spot even though he totally screwed her over, but she'll probably just whoop the shit out of him when they run across each other at Beacon and all will be forgiven.
That said, there was nothing that she could punch that would make her current circumstances any less terrible.
Well, there was, but she really shouldn't. The consequences would by far outweigh the rewards.
She sighed. It wasn't even all that bad until just now. The flight to Haven was fine. Initiation sounded like it would be fine. The speech that Professor Lionheart was giving was fine.
Everything was fine until they announced who would be partnering up, for like, the rest of their school life.
"Is something wrong, Yang? Can I help with anything?" her partner asked innocently.
Another sigh.
"It's nothing, Pyrrha. Let's just get this thing rolling."
It really made it hard to stay angry when the object of her ire was so goddamn nice.