Chapter 2
It's an impossibility.
Here are the facts. Aura is genetic. Everyone knows that. My parents both have next to no potential for aura. Therefore, I should also have next to no potential for aura.
Except I do. And not in the "aura but just barely noticeable" kind of way. More like the "1 in 200 prodigy" kind of way.
The first thing I do is double check the name. Surely, they just gave me the wrong Report.
Nope. Jaune Arc. That's me.
Honestly, I would have expected to be panicking more. I'm – I have aura.
I have aura.
The thought that this could happen never even crossed my mind. All I can do is stare blankly at the page in my hand. Is this even real? Am I just living out an absurdly vivid dream? Real life doesn't work out this way, does it?
Maybe the machine malfunctioned. That's the only plausible explanation, because this – this isn't possible.
"Wait!" I call out to the nurse before she can leave. She peers at me over the documents in her arms, eyes heavy with fatigue.
"This has to be a mistake," I protest. "I can't have aura. It's not possible."
"Heard that one a million times," she snorts. "If we believed it then we'd all be dead. Sorry, kid. Just face it. You got the short end of the stick."
"That's not what I mean," I counter. "My whole family doesn't have aura. There's no way that I can be 99.5th percentile."
She pauses. It is unusual; aura can be predicted with fairly high accuracy by taking an average of the two parents. Proper training and nutrition can boost it a little higher. It's the reason the kingdom is so desperate to pair up its strongest citizens, as well as insistent that they manage the offspring's lives.
"You're right. That is odd," she muses. Before I can continue my argument, she dashes my hopes. "But not impossible. There are rare cases of mutation drastically deviating from expected results."
I know about those cases, of course. They're the desperate hope of every high–aura marriage: that their children will against all odds escape the curse that they've been locked into.
"I thought those cases were always high potential children showing no aura capacity," I say.
"They have been until now," she agrees. "I guess you're just exceptionally unlucky. At least you'll make it into the history books. The world's most cursed special snowflake."
Her words are abrasive and her tone caustic, but I don't miss the haunted emptiness of her eyes. I can't bring myself to hate her. She's no better off than I am. A kind soul that wanted to help people, to improve the health of society, instead forced to watch as the young lives she wanted to improve are brought to bitter hopelessness over and over and over again. I have no doubt that her Report laid this burden on her, and that as soon as her service was done she would be gone without a backward glance. In the meantime? She has to have some kind of defense mechanism.
Ironic, isn't it? The kingdom doesn't want this. The Center doesn't want this. We, the youth, certainly don't want this. Nobody likes this solution. But what other choice do we have?
I don't really know. At least at the moment, though, I can try to save my own life.
"Couldn't the machine be broken?" I offer. "I can't just have some never before seen mutation."
She snorts again, so violently that the papers flutter, although none of them fall. "The machine's never wrong, kiddo. Even when we think it is. Tens of thousands of cases. Live testing always shows it's right."
'Live testing,' she calls it. Combat against the Grimm.
"Just face the facts," she says, her voice softening for the first time. "You've got aura."
So that's it. Nothing left to do, no angle left to pursue. I'm screwed. Everything that I pitied Blake for? It's all on me now. I'll live out the rest of my life in a decently sized house with decently good food and all I have to do in return is produce children for the state like a good little pet.
I can imagine it now. It'll probably be a single story white house with a white picket fence. Since I'm exceptionally strong, I might even get a small yard. I'll get fresh vegetables at least once a dayand maybe even fresh meat once or twice a week – the best nutrition the state can afford. I'll get a good job to support my family, nothing too dangerous, nothing that might risk my future contribution. Maybe my wife is cute – maybe she isn't. Maybe she's kind, loving, and caring – maybe she isn't. But a good mother? That's not important. The kingdom will make sure she's a good mother. All in all, it's safety, food, companionship – a good life.
For a pet.
No. No no no no this isn't right it can't be real there is no way it's real I was supposed to be safe and the universe doesn't just break its rules to screw someone over–
But it did. Does. And in the end, am I any different from someone who was screwed from the beginning? Someone like Blake.
Wait… Blake. Blake, an animal so spirited that she took her chances in the wild instead of submitting to become a pet. We called her crazy, before. But now, with the bars of my cage looming above me, I think I understand. Is freedom worth dying for? Maybe yes, maybe no – but there's hope there. Maybe only one in one hundred thousand survive the Hunters – but it's still more than zero.
She blazed the trail for me. I just need to follow.
"The Hunters," I blurt out. "I want to join the Hunters."
The nurse stares at me like I had spoken an alien language. "What?"
"If I have aura," I clarify, "then I can join the Hunters instead of bree– marrying."
"You're nuts," she mutters. She shakes her head to cut off anything I might say. "It's not possible, anyways. If your aura was closer to standard values it would be allowed, but you're way too strong for the kingdom to risk your death. Military's not an option for you, kiddo."
I slump back in my chair, energy drained like water down a sink.
"Not all bad news, though," the nurse continues. "I know who they'll pair you with. She's pretty cute."
"Not exactly top of my list of concerns right now," I snap. If this is going to be the person I spend the rest of my life with, there are some muchhigher priorities than just appearance.
She shrugs. "Fair enough, but you might as well take what you can get." She beckons towards the door with her head. "Once Freddie's back, he'll take you to the meeting room." A pause. "Good luck." She disappears through the door, leaving me to wrestle with my new reality.
It feels like only an instant until the door opens again, revealing the same guard from before. "Come on, kid," he says gruffly. "Time to meet your mate."
::-::-::
I was kind of expecting something more romantic.
The room is – well, basically an interrogation room. The only furniture is a long table with some hard wooden chairs. A single feeble plant presents the only color against the grey drab; a sickly green. Along the wall opposite the narrow door is a glassy sheen of what's probably a one way mirror. Hardly the appropriate decor to foster a pleasant first meeting. Not that The Center cared.
"Nice place," I quip. The guard rolls his eyes.
"Just sit down. You'll only be here a few minutes anyways."
Once he makes sure I obey, he leaves. The minutes drag on, but nobody comes. I glance around uncertainly, but there's no sign of other people at all. Just empty, stark white hallways and cold grey walls. Was I abandoned?
Right when I'm about to get up and go find somebody, I hear muffled roars of anger. Without warning, the door slams open, and a red and black blur is half shoved, half thrown into the room. She whips back around, clenched fists radiating indignation.
"I was just getting ready!" she yells at some unseen offender.
"I've dealt with your sass for six long years, and I'm not going to take any more of it," someone snarls back. Elderly, female, but there's a hint of longing underneath the scolding. "Now quit stalling and get on with it!"
"Rude," Red–and–Black Girl mutters. She looks up, and any further protests die in her throat, replaced instead by the onset of a faint blush. "Oh. You're here already."
"Yeah." What am I supposed to say? The Center distributed pamphlets with suggestions on how to interact with one's future "partner," but I'd thought I was safe. Never did anything more than glance over them. "Uh. Hi?"
"Hi," she offers shyly, equally uncertain. "What – what's your name?"
"Jaune," I state, relieved to be past the awkward stage of 'what do we talk about.' "Jaune Arc."
"Hmm. Ruby Arc," she muses, rolling the sound over her tongue. "It doesn't sound terrible."
It kind of does, but I'm not going to say that. I get up and pull out the chair opposite me, gesturing for her to take a seat. It vaguely feels like the correct thing to do. "Your name is Ruby?"
She falls into the chair with an energetic flop. "Yup! Sorry. Guess I forgot that detail?" She tries to laugh, but it comes out as a pathetic, strangled giggle. "Ruby Rose. Well, Ruby Arc now, I suppose."
Ugh. I'd wanted to avoid the elephant in the room for as long as possible. We're seated face to face, now, providing me an opportunity to study her more closely. Silver eyes are the first thing that catch his attention, almost comically large against the rest of her face. Dark hair with hints of burgundy falls almost to her shoulders in a messy cut, and her slim frame is swaddled in a ragged scarlet hood over a slightly–too–small black dress.
She looks way, way too young to be eighteen, still more child than adult. But that couldn't be right. Surely, even as beleaguered as they were, the center wouldn't resort to using children. Would they?
"How old are you?" I ask with thoughtless bluntness. I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. Not 'nice to meet you' or 'Ruby is a pretty name' or anything like that. Nope. Straight to 'how old are you.'
Smooth, Jaune. Way to be a creeper.
But don't I have a right to know these facts? Willing or not, she's my… my mate. Wife. Whatever.
Ugh. That will take some getting used to.
Luckily for me, if she takes offense to my directness, she doesn't show it. "I'm fifteen."
Fifteen. What. No. There were some lines that should not be crossed. Eighteen was bad enough. I certainly don't feel ready for… for this. But fifteen?
"Oh, but I'm turning sixteen soon!" she adds as an afterthought. As if that made it any better.
"What?" I force out, bewilderment finally given verbal form. "But you should be safe from The Report until you're eighteen."
"Not for orphans," she says, cheerful demeanor subdued by a bitter smile. It's a jarring transformation, unnatural, out of place. Like mold on strawberries. "We're, you know, a burden to the state."
It's not hard to connect the dots. If she's my mate – my wife – then she's every bit as strong as I supposedly am. Aura has to be nurtured, cared for extensively. It's an expensive business, and orphanages are already stretched well past their limits.
After all, there are a lot of orphans. The Grimm make sure of that.
"Your parents were hunters?" I ask, but it's pretty much a formality. I know the answer already. Orphan with strong aura? Doesn't take a genius to figure out. The only mystery is how they survived long enough get married, let alone have a kid.
"Yeah," she murmurs. "Strong ones, too. Really strong." She flicks idly at the table, silver eyes following the motion. "That's partly why they pushed me into my Report so early."
"What do you mean? Strength shouldn't force you into it, right?"
She hesitates, finger frozen in tension against her hand. "Normally, yeah."
"But you're not normal," I prompt. She nods slowly.
"I wish I was."
"How strong?" I push for answers. "Are you, that is. Not your parents."
"Promise you won't laugh? Or get scared. Or anything else, I don't want to make this weird, I'm pretty normal other than my aura, it's just that –"
"I promise," I interrupt, before her words get so jumbled up she starts speaking a foreign language. "I won't do anything."
Even with my assurance, it's a long time before she speaks. "99.995th percentile."
Oh.
"Sweet Grimm-spawn," I breathe, the profanity gliding from my mouth without a thought.
"You promised!" she cries with childlike desperation.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know," I reassure her. "It's just… wow. Sorry, kind of a shock." And I thought I had it bad as a one in two hundred prodigy. She was one in fifty thousand. Quite possibly the best and brightest of our entire generation.
"That's why I try not to tell people," she says in a small voice. "Nobody takes it very well. I… I didn't have many friends. Don't. Don't have many friends."
I can't really blame them. It was only human nature. At best, she would be idolized, set on a pedestal as a once in a lifetime legend to be met. Maybe a cursed soul to be pitied, by those who understood her fate. But at worst? A despised object of misplaced envy, bullied for no other reason then standing head and shoulders above the rest of us.
Ha. Head and shoulders. With her height, she probably didn't even stand head and shoulders above a middle schooler.
"You'll have me now," I say. The cheesiness almost makes me wince, but I feel compelled to say something, anything.
"Like it or not," she agrees. "We're kind of stuck together now." She glances at me through the corner of her eyes. "I… I'm glad, though. That you care, that is. At least I think you care?"
"I do," I reassure her. "I have to, anyways. We'll be together for a long while." Gah. I really need to think about what I'm saying before I spew it all out.
"Have to?" she pouts. "So mean."
"Sorry," I wince. "That's not what I meant. It's just, uh, I'm not too comfortable with girls."
Which is kind of a lie, but kind of not. Blake's my long time friend, after all, but she doesn't really feel like a girl. She's just Blake.
I'm just making this more awkward, aren't I?
"It's ok," Ruby says. "I'm kind of the same way." She blinks. "Ah, I mean that I can't talk to boys! I'm fine with girls. Except I'm talking to you and you're a boy, at least I think you are, I hope you are or that would be really awkward, so that's ok?"
I stare at her, somewhat overwhelmed by the rush of words.
She buries her face in her hands. "Just ignore me. Please."
"Ok," I agree.
The lull in our conversation morphs into a painfully awkward silence. My eyes robe wildly around the room, grasping for anything we can discuss to pass the time until the guards return. Her face remains firmly planted in her hands.
Her head snaps up so quickly that I actually startle at the surprise. "Oh! I know!" She rummages in a small pouch at her waist, drawing out a tattered pamphlet. "Here. They gave me this in case we didn't know what to talk about."
Oh. That would be the pamphlet I never bothered paying attention to because I thought I was safe. "How does it work?"
She shrugs. "I dunno. I'll just pick something random and we can talk about it?"
I'm pretty sure the topics are organized to follow a structured progression, but whatever. Random will probably work too. "Works for me."
"Alrighty then!" She closes her eyes. "Drumroll, please!"
I oblige.
"Aaaaand this one!" Ruby proclaims, pointing to a spot on the page and opening her eyes. "How many children should we have?"
Please, oh cruel luck of mine, please have mercy.
Ruby's earlier blush returns full force, and she hides her face behind the ratty paper. "Ok, maybe not the best place to start."
"Maybe not," I agree. "Should we something else?"
She shakes her head, but I can only see the top of her hair peeking over her makeshift cover. "No. We should… you know. Talk. About it. I guess."
Hello awkwardness. Welcome back. I missed you for the thirty seconds you were gone.
See, here's the problem. First of all, I haven't even ever had a girlfriend. The ones I knew didn't go for the whole "gangly and awkward" gig. This whole children thing feels like I've skipped a few steps. And by a few steps I mean a lot of steps.
What kind of Grimm–spawned situation is this? I don't know if I can get over the mental block of, you know, procreating. Not to mention all the work of raising kids. Sure, she's cute, but not exactly alluring – I mean, she's not even an adult yet, and she sure doesn't look like one. Aren't there lawsagainst this?
Only when convenient, a bitter voice whispers in the back of my head. The circumstances of her Report certainly suggest that the law is… flexible.
There's gotta be something we can do. Someone we can talk to, maybe. I don't know. I just know we have to try. We're not ready for any of this. Can't we get a few more years?
Judging from the fact that Ruby's head still hasn't left the shelter of the pamphlet, I don't think she's any more comfortable with the idea than I am.
"It has to be at least four kids," she says in a small voice. "That's the rule."
"Sounds like a handful already," I joke feebly. "I doubt we'll want any more than that."
Silver eyes peer over the edge. "It's not too bad. The older ones help take care of the younger ones."
Right. Orphanages. "Lots of personal experience?"
"Juuuust a bit."
"Good thing at least one of us will have experience, then. I have a bunch of sisters and the only thing they've taught me is how to take abuse."
Icy realization grips my heart at the thought. Sisters. My family. They – they thought I was safe, or at least safe from aura.
The worst thing is that I won't even be allowed to tell them myself. No, they'll receive an official, impersonal letter informing them of the 'invaluable service' I'm rendering to the state. Once you're assigned to a partnership, the family isn't allowed to visit for at least a year, and there's been talk of increasing it to two. Too much of a risk. Family reminds you of everything you've lost. Some disgruntled parents have even fostered rebellions.
And when aura bearers rebel, it's very nasty.
"My family," I whisper. "They… Oh grimm–spawn."
Ruby sends me a sad half–smile. "They had to expect it though, right?"
"No. No, no, no," I murmur, voice escalating with every repetition until it reaches frenzied instability. "That's the thing. They're safe. My parents, my older sisters, all of them. None of us ever dreamed that –" A sharp rattling draws my attention downwards. My shaking hands are sending tremors into the table. I try to force them to calm, but my efforts are meaningless.
"I shouldn't be here," I finish. "But somehow, I have it."
I don't hear the rustling as Ruby leaves her chair, nor the pad of light feet across cold floor. I only realize she's moved when two slim arms wrap around my torso and a soft, warm weight presses against my back. I lean into her like a puppet without strings, but she doesn't budge. Neither of us say a word until the shaking ebbs from my hands.
"Feel better?" Ruby murmurs into my back.
"Yeah," my breath comes in shaky gasps, but at least I'm not causing a miniature earthquake. "Yeah, a bit. Thanks."
"Mmhmm. It always helps me."
We stay like that for long, peaceful seconds, until the door blasts open with all the force of a dust–fire, revealing the sneering visage of a different guard. The noise startles us upright, Ruby separating from me in an awkward tangle of limbs.
"Glad to see you two getting along," he spits pure venom. "Come on. Paperwork to fill out for you brats."
::-::-::
He leads us through winding halls of stark white. Some of them are destitute, but most of them hold crowds of bustling workers in a myriad of uniforms. I'm not sure how they remember where they're going. I lose track of the endless turns within the first minute.
Eventually he deposits us before an unassuming door of dull grey metal. A simple, white nameplate with a faux–ivory frame displays "Glynda Goodwitch" in neat, printed letters. With a final leer at Ruby that leaves my hairs standing in distaste, he departs.
"Shall we?" I offer hesitantly.
"You do it," she nods at the door. I give the door three unconvincing knocks.
"Come in," a stern voice calls out. I comply, Ruby right on my heels.
The interior of the room is every bit as spartan as the exterior, nothing but a wooden desk stacked with ramrod straight piles of papers. The sole piece of furniture, a severe wooden chair, hardly more than a frame, is occupied by a spectacled woman. She looks up from a sheet of paper, and the intensity of her attention immediately puts me on edge. The mere sight of her jade–green eyes demands respect, and I find myself standing just a little bit straighter.
"Names?"
"Jaune Arc," I respond.
"Ruby Rose. I mean, Arc." Ruby echoes.
The woman nods, a brisk, snappy motion. "Glynda Goodwitch. Reports, please." She taps impatiently on a clear space on the desk. Ruby is the first to slap down the thick document. Glynda peruse a it with a critical eye, gaze roaming with practiced rapidity.
Abruptly, she glares at Ruby, who twitches back with a startled 'eep.'
"You're fifteen?" The older woman asks, gesturing towards the Report with a sharp snap of her wrist. The girl besides me nods.
"Yes ma'am."
Glynda scowls at the paper in her hands, as if it's all the cause of her frustration. Actually, it pretty much is. "This is Ironwood's doing, isn't it."
"Yes ma'am!" Ruby squeaks. "How did you know?"
"Because there is no other insufferably single minded buffoon who would resort to this," Glynda grumbles darkly. She traces back over the pages until she rests on Ruby's SAS. A slight widening of her eyes is the only sign of her surprise. "Ah. I see why he was so eager."
Ruby shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, but Glynda does not comment further.
"Alright, young man. Your turn." She swipes her fingers in the universally understood motion of 'give me.' I obey.
It doesn't take her long to scrutinize my Report. "Everything's in order. Any questions?"
Now or never. "Yes ma'am," I blurt before I can talk myself out of it. Ruby looks at me in surprise but says nothing. "Please. We're really not ready for any of… this." I don't elaborate, but Glynda's curt nod demonstrates her understanding. "Is there some way we can postpone everything for a few years? At least until Ruby's eighteen?"
There's a long silence while Glynda muses over my request. Finally, she reluctantly shakes her head. "Much as I might like to, I can't directly contradict General Ironwood." She spits the name out like a rotten fruit. "Not to mention that as an adult, you have no right to postpone your duty."
My heart plummets into my stomach, but she's not finished. "There are alternatives, however, to settling immediately. They're just unusual."
"I asked for military service," I inform her. "They, ah, weren't supportive."
"I'm not surprised," Glynda admits. "Both of you are far too powerful. The Hunter Corp isn't the only method of postponement, however. Have you heard of Beacon Academy?"
Ruby leans forward, eyes shining with obvious excitement. "It's the best Hunter school in all of Vale!"
Even I knew about Beacon. It's legendary for boasting an unmatched 75% first mission survival rate among its graduates. Almost 65% of Hunters that lived long enough to retire are Beacon alumni. It's also almost impossible to get into.
"Why do you ask?" I respond cautiously. Call me paranoid, but this sounds like a trap. I've never heard of any way out of what the Report dictates.
Glynda offers me a guarded smile. "Because I'm offering you a chance for admission."
What.
"You can do that?" Ruby gasps, practically bouncing in anticipation.
"I am in charge of Beacon admission," Glynda responds drily. "If you're willing, you'll undergo the usual training, but without the assignment to a hunter unit that usually accompanies graduation. It'll put a delay on your civic duties until you're…" She shoots a pointed look at Ruby. "More mature."
If the red hooded girl noticed the barb, she gives no sign. "Yes! Yesyesyesyes! I'd love to go!"
Glynda turns to me, and I stare back in dumbfounded shock. "Are you also willing?"
Ruby turns the full force of her terrifying puppy eyes on me. "Please?"
My mind's gone completely blank. This is all way too fast. I might have been willing to join the Hunter Corp before, but that was just desperation, I didn't really want to. Beacon might not be the same thing as active service, but it was still really dangerous, right?
Suddenly, settling into a family life doesn't seem so bad.
On the other hand, it's clear Ruby desperately wants it. If I say no, she'll almost certainly be denied. We're skirting the edge of legality even if I agree. I can't just destroy that dream.
Talk about a lose–lose situation.
"I guess," I agree reluctantly. Ruby lets out a whoop of excitement and latches on to me in a fierce hug.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou–"
"Very well." Glynda pulls out a massive stamp and pounds it into our reports. The words "Beacon Approved" gleam at me in giant, dripping, condemning red letters. "Welcome to Beacon."
A/N:
One of you reviewers raised an excellent point, which was "why don't they just conceive outside the womb?"
One thing to keep in mind is that unlike western culture, the government of Vale in this story clearly value the good of the collective over the happiness of the individual. Chapter one shows that The Report and its strict control over the citizenry hardly factors in personal happiness. All that matters is how the society benefits as a whole. The government of Vale is thus only barely concerned with how its high–aura citizens feel about arranged marriages because the current status quo gives the most amount of freedom to the largest group of people possible while still serving as an 'effective' solution.
The second thing to keep in mind is that creating babies through artificial (by which I mean only possible with external technology) processes still fails to address the core problem, which is limitations on the personal freedom of the parents. After all, pregnancy is hardly the problem; the true issue is that those children must be raised and nurtured. Who would do that? The government? How would they do it? Perhaps mass boarding schools? Is that an effective way to raise children? Keep in mind that one of the mandated goals of raising children is to prepare them for future service as either hunters or parenting the next generation of hunters. Personal touch is acknowledged to be extremely important in child development. Parents are thus still 'trapped' in their role. No improvement has been made.
Also, if children are assigned to other figures who are responsible to take care of them (going back to the boarding school idea), those people will still be assigned their role by The Report, willing or not, which brings us back to square one.
As for the 'army of waifus' criticism, I assure you that Jaune is in no way a self insert (I'm FAR more cynical and generally unpleasant) and that I hardly consider Ruby a 'waifu.' They were simply the characters I most desired to work with. You may hold the opinion that they're out of character. This is a fair criticism, but also an entirely separate one.
Also, if anyone is thinking that fifteen isn't even young by say, medieval standards, keep in mind that Jaune isn't used to medieval standards, and such a thing in modern western culture would certainly be frowned upon.
Some of you may still disagree with me, and that's fine. If nothing else, you can be confident that I've considered the matter.
All that said, I really appreciate the criticism. Of course I love all the encouraging reviews, but criticism shows me areas to address and improve upon, and I hope the above comments show that I will take it very well.
I'm very surprised by the support and interest this has garnered. Thanks for all your reviews/favs/follows!
