Chapter 9.
…
Jaune was just sitting on his chair. Before he rose to his feet, and started to aimlessly pace about her room.
He wasn't interested in the interior of it, and truth be told, there was nothing interesting to see to begin with. It was perfectly ordinary, and given the type of person that Yang used to be, it mildly surprised him. Her room being so uninspiring and normal, but he didn't care for that odd little detail for long.
His footsteps creating the softest of creaks and soundless echoes, he found himself stopping next to a window. Peering through it, he saw the endless thick of snow, almost palpable cold, and then things that simply weren't there.
"Now catch this!"
Her youthful voice in his head was perfectly clear. A voice which belonged to a memory. One which stung, but most certainly not because it was unpleasant. Quite the opposite. It stung because it was pleasant.
He blinked, heard her voice once again, and then his mind started to make images. Pull them out of the depths of memories which weren't grim.
…
She threw the ball of snow right at his face, but he ducked under it. His face adorned with an ever-growing grin, he cocked his arm back, and she knew what was to come. As she noticed his arm jolting forward, she ducked.
He was only faking a throw.
"I got you!" He exclaimed, and threw the ball for real, but she dodged it regardless.
With a youthful laugh, she got back to her feet and smugly planted her tiny gloved fists on her hips. As she did, she started to sway her hips teasingly.
"You won't fool me this time, brother Jau-" She cut herself short, and tried to dodge him bee-lining towards her.
Unfortunately for her, he was too quick.
When he was close enough, he leapt, and they both tumbled into the thick of snow. As they did, both cries and war-cries broke out, patches of snow lifted into the air. They fought, determined and tenacious, but eventually, he managed to overpower her.
Throwing his hands into the air, he joyfully, proudly declared himself a winner. Meanwhile, she lay trapped in between his legs, his weight securing him staying atop.
"This isn't fair!" She protested, her voice elevated and lively. Her tiny fists smacking against his thighs. "You totally used your strength to win! I call this a lame, poopy win!"
He crossed his arms just under his chest. His head nodding sideways.
"Tch, tch, tch, my little angel. I didn't just use my strength. I also used my speed and wits. You see, me faking a throw was merely a distraction. A way to buy me some precious time, before I would execute my true plan of action."
She pouted. "I still call this a lame poppy win!"
"Call it whatever you want, it won't change the result. I-"
His gushing was finally cut short. A hefty ball of snow hitting him right in the temple. Snapping his head to his right, he was hit with two more square on his face, making him topple over.
"Hahaha!" She gleefully laughed, rose to her feet and then started to barrel through the snow. To the person who welcomed her with open arms.
"Mama!" She exclaimed as her dear mother picked her up and close to her chest.
"Oi, little sunshine," She started, her fingers gently brushing against her daughter's cheeks, nose, lips and forehead. "Yer face a frozen tomato. H'long have ya been here?"
"Dunno. But plenty enough for me bum to go cold."
"Oi, ya don't speak that, alright!" The woman fixed her child with a scolding glare. Before her expression softened, and she kissed her child's forehead. Her free hand caressing her daughter's head. Thereafter, her pointing her summer-bright eyes to her son.
He was staring back, his lips curled upsettingly.
She warmly smiled to him, and he did his best to not smile back.
"Get up, me little wonder kid. Me reckon yer bum's a Christmas decoration by now."
"It's not fair! You totally spoiled my victory!"
"And ya think it's fair to go all out on yer little sister like that?"
"It's because she's so good! I have to be serious!" He explained, and Estelle' lips curved into a big, bright smile.
"It's okay, mama. I don't mind brother Jaune winning. He's my hero, after all. He has to win!"
"And yet you were complaining before…" He retorted in a low, grumbling voice.
"Because it wasn't a cool victory. Besides, I do want to win at least sometimes," She said, and then started to swing her legs impatiently. "But I want to go home now! I want to eat! I want a warm soup!"
"Be patient me little sunshine. We'll be home soon." She reassured her, and then fully focused on him.
"Ya get up too."
He refused to out of spite.
She sighed, nodded her head sideways and then started to him.
Grabbing him by an ear, he was quick to move, after all.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, I'm moving, okay?! I'll go home as well!"
She held him captive just a little bit longer, and then obliged to his pleas. As she did, her hand wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to herself.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, and all three of them walked home. A warm soup awaiting them there.
…
He remembered the scene vividly. He could almost taste his mother's soup in his mouth. His blue just a bit soft, bright and lively, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
When he pressed his hand against the cold glass of the window, it all disappeared. His expression a deceiving blank. Thereafter, he heard how someone entered the room, and in the icy reflection, he saw it to be no one else but her.
Springs in the mattress squeaked with a wisp of wornness. She held a mug of steaming coffee above her now blanketed lap.
He quietly breathed out. His breath held captive on the icy glass of the window, and he no longer could see the view outside so well.
"Yang, would you believe me if I told you there used to be someone who viewed me a hero? Or rather, she still probably does." He asked, and she casted her glance to him.
He glanced back.
"You're a failure, Jaune. We both are, so I really don't care if someone thinks of you a hero."
"…You're right," He said with no strength or desire to argue otherwise, casting his look back to the view outside. To what he could still see of it.
She quietly, angrily bit her lip. Just get the hell out. Her ire rose, but not for long. Her own defeat snuffing it out quickly, leaving behind a cold ember.
Just go.
She wanted him to leave, still. She wanted him to be a failure, but a failure who also tried.
Instead, he was just a failure.