Wow, when I first decided to upload the first chapter of this story I didn't really expect to get much, or any, reception as a whole. Yet within the first few hours, I was getting notification after notification of favorites and follows! Who knew the validation that people like your work could be such an unreal feeling?
It's also the reason why this chapter came out so soon after the first, as it was planned to be done at the earliest tomorrow.
Anywho, enough of me feeling giddy. As you might've picked up from the last chapter, this universe of RWBY takes a lot of inspiration from that of Moonknight. Originally, it was going to be a full-on crossover, but the more I wrote the more I realized I was only taking certain aspects here and there. So instead, if anyone asks, I'll simply say it's "Heavily Inspired."
Although this is a continuation of the last chapter, I'm still on the fence on whether to make this a full-fledged story, or to instead go for short snippets of scenes I already have planned out in advance. By the next chapter, I'll have that decided, so that's fun I guess.
Anyway, onto the story!
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Chapter 2
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The moon was so very bright tonight.
There isn't a single cloud in the night sky to block its beams; its vast light shining above all others, muting out the surrounding stars completely and illuminating the sand he walked upon. He isn't quite sure where he is, knows not why he walks, only that he belongs.
How long has he walked through these sands? How many times? Hours? Days? Years?
It feels like an eternity, and yet the moon hangs proudly in the sky still. It has yet to move, he holds doubt it ever will, why would it ever give freedom to those in its domain? Rather than ponder such pointless deliberations, he continues to walk. As long as he walks, he is moving forward. Forward is away.
Away from them.
He can hear them always, no matter how he wishes he couldn't. Sometimes they are naught but whispers in the wind, flickering by his ears as the sand does itself. Other times they are echos, yelps, and yells that seem to come from the darkness of which that which the moon refuses to illuminate. The worst is the screams, oh how he hates the screams; it means they are close, that he has failed his duty, that he has not walked far enough. They are the most vocal, the most personal; they cry out his name, curse his very existence, and blame him for their sorrow.
They are not incorrect to do so.
Yet they are getting bolder, no longer do they seem to care to be confined to the shadows forever. He has seen glimpses of their flesh-torn fingers peaking out from the darkness, the twisted footprints of which he knows he did not make for how distorted the shape had become. It's why he continues to walk forward, for not only is it his purpose, it allows him to never turn around.
To never peek into the darkness.
Yet he does not need to see to hear them.
"wHy diD yoU Do iT?"
He didn't mean to.
"lIaR!"
He's sorry.
"yoU RuIned Us!"
He's sorry.
"jAuNE . . ."
He's sorry.
He's sorry.
He's sorry!
"JaUnE!"
Please. Just leave him alone!
Just let him rest!
"JAUNE!"
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The first sensation Jaune felt upon waking up was that of sunlight attempting its latest endeavor in blinding him, the second sensation was that of blossoming pain in his forehead. It wasn't hard to take a guess on where it originated from; not with how Nora let out her own pained yelp, and as he cracked open his eyes, was rubbing her own forehead while shooting him her most irked glare.
"Oh, uh', sorry about that . . ."
"Sorry!? You nearly give me a concussion buster!" He'd personally seen the hammer-wielding girl ram a goliath head first, but he certainly wasn't going to dig himself into an early grave that easy. Not one to be kept down, the redheaded member of JNPR marched forward to stand by his bedside side, even if she still rubbed her own head every few seconds; "I try and wake you from a nightmare and my reward is a headbutt!? This is gonna' be, like a hundred favors to make up for mister!"
Nightmare? Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a little breathless, and a quick rub against his own face showed a thin layer of sweat. Yet try as he might, the details of his dream alluded him - all but the faint memories of sand wisped away until he couldn't remember a thing. It was both frustrating and entirely too common.
"Ah', I really am sorry Nora, I'll make it up to you I promise!" She crossed her arms and raised one brow suspiciously, humming as she peered down at him as if to judge his trustworthiness and he knew at that moment his life may very well be on the line; "I'll give you my breakfast for the next week!"
Her brow only shot up further.
"I'll take the blame for the next piece of school equipment that 'mysteriously' breaks!"
Her humming only grew louder in intensity.
"I'll . . . talk to Ren about taking you to that pastry place in Vale?"
Some part of him felt like he should've felt at least a little guilty at surrendering his best male friend so quickly but he felt Ren would understand. He was a standup guy like that. He also knew the dangers of dealing with an angry Nora.
"Deal, to all of the above!" His relief was short-lived, as Jaune could only let out a muffled squeak as he felt his body become airtight in an instant. Nora, with one arm wrapped around his chest, squeezed perhaps a little too maliciously, cooing all the while she embraced him to the point of his bones beginning to creek; "You know all the best presents to get me Jaune'y!"
Some deity up above must have been smiling upon him today, as a few seconds later he was eventually freed from the torturous loving embrace and he wasn't exaggerating in the slightest when he heaved up the biggest intake of air he possibly could. Such a response only seemed to amuse her further, placing one hand upon her hip and sticking her tongue out at him as he sent a mock glare her way.
"Anyway, Pyrrha and Ren sent me to get you because, y'know, it's basically like twenty minutes till' combat class and you still haven't got your lazy butt out of bed." He'd slept in? That was odd, even when he woke up with phantom pains and split lips it was before his set alarm went off. Then again, he had been feeling more haggard than usual lately so maybe he shouldn't be all that surprised.
"Oh, thanks." A yawn escaped his throat as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed; "I'll get ready and meet you all there I guess." Nora certainly didn't need to be told twice, the mere implication of catching some last-minute food had her slamming the door to their room shut in record time, leaving the blonde alone with his thoughts.
They weren't all that interesting; he pondered over Ooblecks latest speech, or more so rant, about the Great War of the past. As he slipped a shirt over his head and fitted the blazer around his shoulder, he made a mental note to study more for the next Understanding of Dust test that would no doubt pop up soon enough. Splashing a small amount of lukewarm water onto his face, and promptly drying it, he grabbed his bag and placed his hand on his team's door. He was a mere second away from leaving before something gleaming from the right caught his eye.
It was his scroll.
It was just . . . sitting there, on a small cabinet they'd decided to place near the entrance. He hadn't remembered it ever leaving his pocket, he was usually addicted to scrolling through forums online when he wasn't training or studying. Yet as he stared at the familiar device, he couldn't help but let a small frown slip onto his lips.
I should really call mom and dad, they're probably worried sick . . .
Neither parent wanted him to become a huntsman and despite his pleas and begging they had outright refused to send him to a prep school; in turn, he had made the determined, although the somewhat foolish, decision to run away from home and try his luck at Beacon. He had succeeded though! He had passed initiation, became a leader, and met new friends! He could even brag to Saphron about how he got in and yet . . .
. . . yet why did merely looking at his scroll leave a pit of despair in his gut?
It would just be a quick call, or even a message to let them know I'm okay . . .
Despite his internal reasoning, his hands remained glued to his side, no attempt to grab the scroll was made and with each passing second he continued to stare at the device that neither made a sound nor flickered with life, the more he found it harder to breathe. It didn't make sense, why didn't it make sense, he just couldn't . . .
. . . R . . Right! He was nearly late! Duh'! He couldn't waste time on a call right now or Miss Goodwitch would have his head! He'd totally make a call at another time when he was less busy! His family would understand when he explained it to them, dad was a huntsman so he'd totally be on his side for focusing on improving himself! Letting out a shaky, albeit slightly more confident laugh, Jaune tore his gaze away from his scroll and stepped into the hallway without it. He took a small breath to reassure himself, before walking through Beacons halls once more.
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He thankfully wasn't the last one to enter through the doors and into the stands of Goodwitch's class, the last thing anyone wanted was her attention focused upon them. Taking a quick look around he easily spotted his own team, courtesy of having two redheaded members that stood amongst most other students, quickly making his way over with a small wave.
He wasn't all that surprised to find the rest of team RWBY sitting beside them, ever since their battle in initiation the two teams seemed joined at the hip, though beyond a wave of Ruby's own hand in his direction he found that the other three members barely noticed his sudden appearance. On the other hand, Ren had spared him a small nod, Nora was tapping her wrist as if to point to the watch she very much didn't own nor wear and Pyrrha seemed to let out a sigh of relief at seeing him approach.
"Was beginning to think you fell back asleep, O'Fearless leader." Jaune couldn't help but roll his eyes as Nora sent him a mock salute as he sat down in the seat Pyrrha had thankfully saved him. It'd be a few minutes before the class officially started, so most students around them were animatedly chatting with one another;
"And have another headbutt? I'll pass thanks."
Both Pyrrha and Ren exchanged a confused glance with each other, while Nora instead favored sticking her tongue out at him. He'd totally do it back, but he didn't want to seem immature in front of Weiss, even if she hadn't even spared him a single glance.
Woe was his love-life he supposed.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright Jaune?" He turned to face the worried emerald eyes of his partner, and he couldn't halt the swelling of both embarrassment and worry at her care. Of course, he was ever thankful for her tutelage, and Pyrrha never once acted as if helping him become a true huntsman was a bother, but deep down he knew that some part of her probably wished she had gotten a partner who could handle himself, who didn't need to be worked on from the ground up. It was that shame that kept him from informing her, and the rest of his team, of his nightly pains; they already did enough for him ten times over, and he didn't need to add anything else onto that debt.
"Just a little tired is all." As if to exaggerate his point, he put forth his best fake yawn and stretched his arm over his head. "I think I stayed up too late last night going over a few books." Her worried expression didn't cease, but at the very least she seemed to accept his excuse. She seemed ready to say something else; what it was he would never know, however, as just as her lips parted the doors below the crowd of students opened and every conversation across the room fell mute in an instant.
Miss Goodwitch entered the class with not as much as a word, and yet none were needed. Even just a few weeks into the beginning of the year, every student knew that showing any sign of disruption in any of her classes was a surefire way to get yourself an all-expenses paid trip to the infirmary via a very quick match with the teacher herself.
As she walked into the center of the stage, and begin rattling of the usual points of combat, Grimm and foes they may face in the future Jaune allowed himself to relax a little. While he, thankfully, didn't wake up this morning with a broken arm or any real sort of newfound pain, some still seemed to remain from the previous day. Why his Aura wasn't healing him, or nullifying the pain, he still didn't know. However, in a combat class where he didn't need to focus on taking down notes, Jaune could give his aching joints a small rest by nestling into his seat.
"Will Cardin Winchester please make your way down . . ."
He had to skip breakfast just to make it to class, maybe after he could grab something quickly from the cafeteria before Ports began? It's not like the bloated man's classes were ever that meaningful.
" . . . and Jaune Arc as well."
Or fate could just screw him over, as usual. No, no it was okay, his aching joints and bones actually wanted more stress! It was what the doctor ordered, really. He had an inkling his internal frustration may have leaked out a bit, with how Pyrrha a concerned glance as he came to a stand as he found Goodwitch's gaze upon him.
"You got this Jaune!" Ah, Ruby always did try and cheer people up.
"Show em' why we're the best team around!"
"Second best."
"Psh', you wish Yang."
Jaune could only groan as he made his way down the stairs.
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Stepping onto the hardened tiles of the arena floor, Jaune couldn't but let out a frustrated sigh.
Going against Cardin was a tried and trusted tradition of which Goodwitch didn't seem to tire of yet. Deep down, Jaune knew it made sense; he was obviously the weakest among the class of first years and while Cardin routinely kicked his ass in every spar, he himself wasn't much better than most of his peers either. One match, when classes first began, between him and Ruby had lasted literal seconds; and while Jaune himself had no illusions of ever being able to stand up to the chipper red reaper in a fight, it had certainly been an ego bruise for the brutish teen to be thoroughly demolished by someone several years younger than himself.
Of course, that didn't mean he enjoyed being thrashed by Cardin as a result of their respective standings in a fight.
"The standard rules will apply; the end of the match will be signaled by either surrender of either side, a combatant becoming unable to continue or aura dropping below 40%." Goodwitch must have repeated that exact line a thousand times a week, and yet she never once seemed to irk by it. He'd respect it a lot more if Jaune didn't feel like her own ire was focused on him a lot of the time.
"I promise to make this quick Jauny'boy." Cardins' own voice was as boisterous as ever, and hate him as he might, he always knew how to work the crowd. Even among those in the stands that held him in contempt, a few let out weary snorts and half smiles as Cardin made a show of openly posing with his mace as he stood on the other side of the arena. Of course, his own team did their best to support him too; he could see the glare the deputy head sent to the crowds at the proclamation to "break his legs!" that emitted from within the crowd and Jaune could feel a dopey smile split onto his face.
Sure, it stung to always be the worst, to always lose, but the unending support from his friends made that sting just a little more bearable.
Jaune didn't feel the need to respond to any further taunts from the obnoxious student, instead, Crocea Mors was swept from its scabbard with a weak cry, the weapon of his family pointed in front of him as its matching shield unfolded to become raised beside it. He fell into a newly learned stance, its foundations still weak, but he knew Pyrrha would be nodding in approval from within the stands.
At the very least, the pain he'd receive from this match would be his own. Somehow that was a welcoming thought.
The blonde deputy seemed to take a look at both combatants, before taking a single step back;
"Begin!"
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"Tell me Glynda, how are the new batch settling in?"
Despite the words being directed to that of his deputy, the Headmaster of the esteemed huntsmen academy had turned his focus to staring out to the courtyard below. A cup held firmly in his grasp as he peered through the looming window of his office and at the flock of students walking down amongst the academy grounds.
"There have been the usual cases of tempers flaying at the start of a new year, though with the number of promising students welcomed in I can't say I'm all that surprised." Ah, of course. Times changed. Wars were had. Peace was brokered. But stick a few dozen hormonal teenagers in a closed environment with a handful of flashy semblances and you never could quite predict what would happen.
"A promising group indeed." True to his words, it had been a number of years since the roster of students accepted into Beacon had shown the latent potential the newest year had. From the 'Champion of Mistral' whom had driven up quite the controversy by rejecting to study at Haven, the heiress of the SDC moving out of the grasp of her father, all the way to miss Rose who had yet to be informed of the untold power she possessed.
He may be looking at another STRQ in the future, but that was yet to be seen.
"There is something else on your mind, however." He did take a small amount of pleasure in seeing the way his deputy's eyes widened by only the slightest of margins before her face become the perfect picture of stoicism. Glynda always was far too focused on maintaining her professional disposition, even among colleagues, but he hadn't lived decades' worth of lives without picking up how to read the emotions of his trusted allies.
"I . . " She paused, a most troubling sign indeed as very little could give the stern deputy a lapse in confidence.
"Yes you're right I suppose." Glynda let out a small sigh as she removed her glasses; dabbing them with a cloth. Only when she seemed fully satisfied with how they gleamed in the light did she pull them up to rest on her face once more; "I still have some lingering issues with the acceptance of a particular student."
"Oh? Who might that be?"
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"Come on, quit hiding behind your shield and fight me like a man Arc!"
Jaune was very much in the inclination to continue hiding behind his shield, mostly on the basis that even when he successfully intercepted a swing from the taller teen and caught the oversized mace upon his shield, he could feel how the bones in his arm rattled in agony, his teeth clenched just to stop the hiss of pain that threatened to escape him.
Seriously, the guy hit like a mule!
It was a terrible match-up for him; neither teen had any real form of ranged weaponry which meant close quarters was the only real option. Cardin however was more experienced, far stronger, oh and had a full set of armor that seemed to mitigate the few attacks he had managed to slip by and procure onto the spiky-haired student! Seriously, was he just trying to be as difficult to put down as humanly possible!?
With Cardin currently trying his damnest to brute-force his way through his shield, Jaune amassed as much strength as he could in his arm, the sudden push forward enough to knock Cardin back a few feet for as little - for as little good it would do him. His chest heaved with every breath, a quick glance at the readings of his aura placed him squarely at about seventy percent.
It was enough that he could surrender if he wanted to.
He probably should surrender.
Yet his feet slid apart back into a defensive stance, his shield raised to cover his form with his eyes peaking over its top, sword poised at the ready for when Cardin no doubt charged back in. He wasn't the strongest, that was for certain, but he wasn't going to spit at the effort his team was putting in to help him prove by quitting now. It didn't take long for such a prediction to come to fruition; the teen seemed to take his challenge with open invite as a cruel smile slipped upon his face, thrusting himself forward and -
His thoughts paused for a moment, his breath hitched; his surroundings suddenly became dark and misshapen, the students that peered on melted into undistinguishable blobs of grey and yellow. Cardin was no longer in front of him; now charged a man donned in a stained vest, his mouth frothing and spilling drool down his lips. Gone was the mace, now warped into a crude metallic bar.
Metal pipe held over his head. Telegraphed. He'll swing down to break my shoulder. Go low and avoid, then retaliate.
That was Jaunes voice. It sounded like his thoughts.
Yet, somehow, it didn't come from him.
"Oof!"
As soon as it came the vision was all but gone, courtesy of a certain grinning teenager slamming his mace into the side of Jaunes face. It took him a few moments to realize he was sailing through the air, and even then it was more so how he crashed and rolled upon the ground thereafter. Instinct took over, planting the tip of his sword down and dragging it along the tiles of the arena to slow his movement; it took a few seconds, Cardin hit like a truck after all, but he did eventually come to a stop.
Right at the edge of the arena.
"Now' don't go spacin' out on me Arc! Like I said, fight me like a man if you're not gonna quit!" Even as Cardin threw another series of taunts his way, Jaune paid them no heed. No, his attention was far too focused on recalling what had just happened; and yet try as he might, he found the details slipping away like sand between one's fingers. He wasn't going crazy, he saw something, heard something, and yet the more he tried to focus on what had just transpired the more the migraine that had begun to form in his head pulsed harshly.
I . . Am I going crazy?
There was little time to ponder if his query was true or not, certainly Cardin wasn't giving him the chance. The armored teen was already sprinting towards him, and lest he allow himself to be forcefully pushed out of the battle; Jaune had no choice but to quickly stumble to a stand, ready his shield, and charge forward.
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"Jaune Arc may be on the weaker end of the combat spectrum." Ozpin felt the need to somewhat defend one of his students, even if said student was around to hear his validity called into question; "However, we are here to cultivate potential, and I am in a firm belief that the young man will grow into a fine huntsman given guidance and time."
He knew that potential lay somewhere inside the young Arc; his father, while not the most renowned huntsman, had been a force to be reckoned with in a fight. A blunt man, one who didn't care to mix words and cared deeply for his family; their last encounter had him threatening to maim Ozpin should they ever cross paths again. He did honestly wish it was different, he much preferred having better relations with his former students.
"Potential aside, we both read the reports. Jaune Arc should not be leading a life of a huntsmen."
Ozpin fought the urge to roll his eyes, only stopping himself in fear of finding a chair or desk launched at his head. He instead turned to face his deputy, raising his mug to his lips and taking a small sip of the warm beverage inside, resting it upon his desk before speaking up once more; "Reports and theories won't aid in halting Salems' plans nor her forces at work, and I'll take all possible candidates for the future I can get."
It was a bleak outlook truly, to look upon his students and know that one day they may be thrust into a war they never asked to be a part of. The fact he had used others like pawns before, and will do again, was not lost on him; it was a trait he despised, but to ensure the safety of all of Remnant it was one he must use.
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Sword clashed against mace as Jaune put all his might into pushing back against Cardin; he knew his aura was close to hitting the sickly-yellow tinge of forty above him, Goodwitch looked all but ready to call the match. As the pair pushed away from one another for what many, himself included, was the final time Jaune allowed himself a small respite to catch his breath.
This was it, he could hope all he wanted, but Cardin was someone who had trained for years before coming to Beacon. Even setting combat skill aside, simple endurance was always going to win out in the end and while his own aura pool may have been considerably larger, Cardin's barrage of attacks had all but taken away the one advantage he had. He'd go down swinging at least, no one could say he hadn't given it his all.
Jaune all but readied himself for one final assault, with a small groan escaping forth as he raised his blade to point at his combatant.
Armored. Slow to react. Exploit.
Jaune blinked owlishly for a few seconds; now his brain wanted to give him tips, at the very end of the match? It was almost comical in a sort of sense. Yet there was something wrong that he couldn't quite pinpoint; the voice, it was his own, yet its tone was sullen, clipped. The only time he remotely sounded like that in his head was when he was genuinely annoyed at something, and that hadn't happened in some time.
"Ready to end this Arc? I think my hands got tired of knocking you around like a rag doll!" Cardins' jaunt got him a few laughs, mostly from his own team, but worse was the pitying looks he could see from his own, and from students he hadn't even spoken to. It was humiliating, it was one thing to lose, he knew he would, but to never even be seen as a threat?
He hated it.
Cardin charged soon after, his stylized mace at his side, the brutish teen was ensuring this would be his final attack. He certainly wasn't the fastest in the year, far from it, but Cardin's speed was enough that Jaune couldn't think of a single counter other than to raise his shield. He knew it was dumb, he knew taking a hit like that would drop his aura below forty, and yet what else could he do?
He was so exhausted he couldn't think straight.
He just wanted this to end.
Dive right, force his swing to go wide, parry remaining impact with blade.
Blue eyes shot open.
Jaune Arcs' body moved on nothing but instinct, his thoughts alone carried him through the motions his mind dictated. His aching limbs all but screamed out as he threw himself both towards the side of the charging huntsmen-in-training; Crocea Mors was raised just as the last of Cardins' momentum smacked against it. It wasn't enough to dampen all of the impact; Jaune had to kneel simply to keep himself rooted to his spot, but the blow hadn't eaten into his aura enough to eliminate him.
Cardin, for the most part, looked utterly confused.
Honestly, Jaune was right there with him.
"Woo, yeah Jaune! Show him the moves!" Oh, so his impromptu deflection hadn't just been in his head? At least Nora seemed to be happy, because judging by the angry glint in the mace-wielding boys' eyes, Cardin certainly wasn't.
Over and over again the intrusive thoughts were barreled into his head. Rush forward. Hit floor. Tilt blade at curved angle. It felt like his brain was melting, and yet he obeyed every single one if only because they were effective and his body was following the command of its brain. He was dancing around Cardin with dexterity and skill he had never once displayed; every attack the boy launched was brought to a halt or missed its target entirely. Jaune could see the rage in his eyes; rage is a useful tool when confined and controlled, his is not.
Yet would it matter? Cardins' aura was still at a healthy seventy-five.
Then we will end it now.
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"So we are to simply ignore it? Hope it doesn't rear its ugly head?" There were few times Glynda ever became generally tilted against him; frustrated? A considerable amount. Angry? More times than he could count. Though this was one of the exceptions in which she seemed to outright disagree with him, it was refreshing almost.
"There's been no hints nor indication of it, so I'd say we're in the clear."
"Then what if it doesn't stay that way? What if he lashes out?"
"Why Glynda, you're the one who's been remarking on his 'nonexistent combat capabilities'" Ozpin found no small amusement in seeing his deputy's cheeks light up with a small flush; Glynda rarely had the unpleasure of having her older remarks brought back against her.
"What would someone like that be able to do against some of the most promising upcoming huntsmen?"
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Jaune couldn't quite put together quite exactly what had happened.
It was all a blur really; one moment he had just stepped to the side and pushed Cardin's mace into the air with Crocea Mors, he could see the snarl the young man was sending his way. The very next moment he was crashing into the armored teen with a roar of his own; he briefly recalled how his shoulder had crashed down upon Cardin's wrist as they became a tangled heap upon the arena floor, forcing the mace from his grasp and sending it spinning across the arena with a swift kick. His cry of pain was short-lived, mostly due to Jaune having apparently chosen to forsake using his family's blade in favor of landing haymakers upon the teen's exposed face, it meant Cardin had something else to shout about.
Yet now, as he knelt upon the armored chest of the man who had obnoxiously mocked him throughout the entire match, through all his matches, there were no more quips to be found. No more taunts nor insults, the result of the side of steel pressed to his neck courtesy of Crocea Mors. Cardins' eyes glared up at him with a mixture of shock and cold rage, and if Jaune was a little more aware, he might have noticed how the crowd itself had fallen silent.
"Surrender." His breath was ragged, his lungs felt ablaze and he could feel the sweat pouring from his head.
"Like hell' I'm givin' up to you Ar-" Cardin made to push him off, but Jaunes own response was just to push his blade down harsher. There was a spark of a sort, aura clashing against metal, but it was enough to get the attention of Goodwitch herself.
"This match is over."
Cardin looked downright furious, and almost seemed ready to argue the result, but one look at the stern deputy head had kept him silent. It actually took Jaune a few seconds to register her words; his heart was beating a mile a minute and he swore his ears were ringing. Even when he came to a stand, it was with shaking legs and a shuddering breath. Cardin of course ignored his outreached hand he had put forward, pushing himself off the ground himself and if it wasn't for the fact that Miss Goodwitch now stood between them, he wouldn't have put it past the armored teen to have tackled him right then and there.
"Mr. Winchester, while you have more than enough strength in your arsenal to overwhelm your foes, you have a tendency to both underestimate your opponents and allow your emotions to distract you. In a world where you will come across foes of all manners and shapes, you cannot allow your assumptions of others to become your weakness." There was likely more Goodwitch had wanted to say, perhaps about purposefully toying with an opponent, but it was likely best saved for in private.
Cardin merely nodded along, keeping his head low and mouth shut.
"Mr. Arc" The mature blonde had turned to him now, and while her stoic expression remained in place as always, Jaune couldn't help but feel like there was something else behind her eyes. It was almost as if she seemed . . . anxious? "I'm glad to see you've taken my previous suggestions regarding fitness and durability to heart; the decisiveness you showed in the latter half of the match is an attitude you should learn to adopt more throughout the entirety of a fight, rather than simply the end."
Wow, he had actually been, sort of, praised by Miss Goodwitch?
He must be dreaming.
"Let this be a lesson to you all!" Goodwitch had turned her attention away from the pair and back to the remainder of the class, pushing her glasses up as she spoke; "Outside these walls, you will no doubt run into all different manners of conflicts, and it will be up to you to decide what your choice of success will look like. Rarely will you want to expunge most of your aura on a singular opponent if you can end the fight through other methods." There were a few mutters among the class, and for once Goodwitch didn't dissuade them.
"You may return to your seats, or visit the changing area if you wish." She still had her back turned to them, but both teens didn't need to be told twice, quickly stepping by the teacher and heading towards their respective teams.
He lasted all of about ten seconds before he was intercepted by a redheaded torpedo crashing into him. If he hadn't had time to latch a hand onto the nearby bench he likely would've toppled over. Nora, not taking heed of his wobbling form or panted breaths, instead hooked her arm around his shoulder and promptly dragged him to where his own team, and RWBY, were sitting.
"Behold! I bring forth our resident champion! Bask in his fearless glory!" He was pushed forward like some sort of trophy, and he couldn't stop his cheeks from becoming flush at the sheer embarrassment of the situation; he could even see some of the nearby sitting teams giggling among themselves.
"It was a wonderful match Jaune, I'm proud of the progress you've made!" If his cheeks were flush before, they had become crimson now; of course, if anyone claimed so he would blame it on his exhaustion from the fight. Still, seeing the pride in Pyrrha's eyes made every aching muscle worth it. "From here forward I'll make sure to increase our training workload twofold so we can keep that improvement going!"
Ah, what a wonderful partner. Too bad his currently crying joints didn't quite agree.
"I'll be honest, I didn't think you had it in you vomit-boy!" The blonde brawler of team RWBY had all but sauntered other, slapping her hand against his back which nearly sent him stumbling to the floor; "Seems Pyrrha's ol' training is working out after all, never would've guessed a noodle like you had moves like that in you!" Yang let out a singular bark of laughter, pointing a finger back on her own team;
"Seriously, I think Blake even smiled when you started laying in Winchesters' face! When'd you go and pick up fighting like that?" It was an innocent enough question among classmates or even friends in this case. He could even see the curious glances of the likes of Ren and Ruby who no doubt were also intrigued by his sudden display of skill.
"O . . Oh, you know, I just looked up some guides online and practiced." Thank the gods he could mask his sudden nervousness with exhaustion; if any of them noticed how tense his shoulders had become, or how his hands had begun to tremble, they would likely chalk it up to his aura being so low. Yang herself didn't quite look like she bought his excuse, though the questioning gaze she wore soon turned into one of humor as she slapped another hand on his back.
"Well whatever you did', keep it up! Who knows, maybe we'll even spar one day?"
Yeah, he'd rather keep all his organs on the inside thank you very much.
"M . . Maybe." He certainly wasn't going to outright say no to the girl with the explosive temper; "I'm . . gonna go hit the changing area, freshen up a bit." For a moment it looked like Pyrrha might've suggested coming with him, but as cruel as it might seem, he needed some time alone and before she could open her mouth Jaune was already rushing down the steps.
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His mind was running wild.
Yang's comment had brought his sense of joy of victory to a screeching halt. The moves he was performing out there, they felt . . . unnatural, never before in any sparring session with Pyrrha or any member of his team had ever brought that kind of combative thinking out. His body performed the moves, but out of demand, not because he had thought it was the best course of action.
He didn't understand it. Those thoughts, during the match, were his own, they came from his head, and yet some part inside him still niggled in doubt. It wasn't that he never planned moves out in his head before, he had even begun coming up with team attacks; but this was different. It was like his mind was spewing forth instructions, that he hadn't thought of, on its own accord, and his body had no choice but to obey on instinct.
Removing the straps to his breastplate, and placing it in his locker, Jaune sluggishly moved towards one of the various sinks littered amongst the changing area. His face felt like it was burning up, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief as he turned on the valve and began the action of splashing the cold water upon his skin.
What was with that weird hallucination earlier in the fight as well? He didn't think Cardin had a semblance of that sort, and even if he did he'd of used it more than once surely. It felt so real, and yet he couldn't remember more than a few scarce details.
Seriously, first the mystery injuries, and now this? Maybe I am going insane . . .
That, or Nora was putting something in his water. One was far more likely than the other.
Rubbing the soothing, refreshing water on his face a few more times, Jaune flipped the tap shut and grabbed a towel to dry his face. He felt a little better now; confused, exhausted, and maybe a little frightened, but at least he wasn't on the verge of burning up anymore. Placing the towel down, he lifted his head to inspect himself in the mirror, maybe run his hand through his hair a few times, or-
There was someone else in the mirror looking back at him.
Dull, sunken blue eyes stared across through the pane of glass. Slicked back yellow locks that matched his own in colored intensity, and a scowl that could give Goodwitch a run for her lien seemingly stitched onto his lips.
"So, Jaune." The mystery man in the mirror spoke. "I think it's finally about time we had a chat."
Jaune Arc screamed.
Wow, this chapter was waaaay' longer than I expected. I was thinking it was going to be around 3k, maybe pushing 4, but certainly not 7k. I blame the fight between Cardin and Jaune - not only do I hate writing out fight scenes, but one between basically two of Beacons weaker students doesn't lend itself to having a lot of easy 'wow' factor.
Still, it's done at least.
And so Jaune finally gets to meet the voice in his head! Don't we all wish we had the same opportunity? As one might expect, seeing someone who's not you in your own mirror might be a bit scary, especially when you aren't expecting it.
Also, I just wanted to make a quick mention that this isn't a "Jaune gets an ability that makes him ultra strong and wins every fight". Jaune, as of right now is still . . . Jaune. Sure, he beat Cardin, but Cardin himself is a big pushover in both anime and manga. If canon Jaune can stand up to a Grimm with only a few weeks of training that a several-year-trained Cardin can't, then one can only assume that Cardin isn't all that much of a good fighter to begin with.
No amount of helpful mental tips is going to help against someone say like Yang, who with one punch could send him through a wall.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed and I'll hopefully try and get the next chapter out sooner rather than later.