It was as if a blonde blur possessed the ability to produce its very own flow. The boy of about 8? Perhaps a year older than that, even. Anyway, the boy had been moving about so fluidly. Never once faltering, yet never overtly pushing. Occasionally he'd directly confront his opponent, but he often seemed to feel just fine circumventing the opponent as a whole.
It was as if he was efficiency incarnate.
It was magnificent.
Whenever the boy had stopped moving, he'd briefly reposition himself. His right foot slid forward, where he then hunched forward ever so slightly. His arms held his blade diagonally, positioned right by his left hip.
And then he fell forward, putting all his strength into his right foot, positively launching himself. He flew towards a large boulder and brought his wooden sword forward, a thin trail of water following along the blade's path.
One would wonder, had he been anyone else, what would have happened?
Had it been some other person his age, would they too have been able to bisect the boulder in half?
Jaune grinned in satisfaction, seeing the destruction his blade had wrought. Finally! He'd done it right!
Well, he'd already succeeded at it, but now he could confidently say he had somewhat mastered it. That was what was really important.
He couldn't wait to show it off in front of his parents. Then they wouldn't stop his training, he'd get to improve more, and eventually, he'd even get to go to beacon!
The best part about it all was that he could test into the combat section of his school now!
Well, not exactly now, but the connotations were clear enough. He would be ready when the time came.
Usually, to attend what was essentially an 'Adventuring University', one had to acquire a recommendation from the combat section of said student's school, along with a couple of statements from combat instructors.
The whole requirement was supposed to root out those who hadn't gathered enough experience, or those who hadn't worked hard enough to achieve anything meaningful. He was going to make sure he didn't fall into either of those categories, so he should be fine!
Now, rather than wasting any more time, he should go back to perfecting the skill! He still couldn't figure out how he did it, but he could feel his Aura bubbling forth every time. Every time the water began to trail him, his Aura spilled throughout him-from his eyes to his arms to his lungs to the very air he would breathe.
He still didn't understand how it worked. He couldn't understand why it worked.
But he could clearly remember the day he had first used the skill successfully.
He could still remember the anger and despair.
He grit his teeth in anguish, desperately looking upon the water. Why? Why had the skill eluded him so? It shouldn't be this hard! Nothing was this hard! It just didn't make any sense.
He could still remember the fear.
He desperately ran, fearing for his life as a relatively small Beowolf chased him through the forest.
Why was it there?
This should've been a completely Grimm-free zone! He panicked once more, after tripping over a branch before looking back, watching as a black blur grew infinitely closer. Why couldn't he have succeeded before? Why couldn't the world let him have a single win?
Why was it there?
The stubborn desperation to survive.
He quickly pushed himself up, getting onto one knee. He pushed with his knee, and stood up further, tightening his grip on his sword.
He slid his right foot forward, his sword falling familiarly into the place it had felt the most right-by his left hip. He hunched forward somewhat, in preparation to launch at the Beowolf.
He was desperate, yet so afraid. He felt stubborn, yet so weak. He was ready but was so, so unprepared.
As the Beowolf lunged towards him, the distance between them all but closed, Jaune threw himself forward.
His entire soul screamed at once, echoed by his voice. It shouted, desperate, calling out to him.
Telling him to commit to the attack. That this was the only correct way.
That this was the only answer.
That this was where he could follow the flow.
His Aura flared to life, and something changed. Something fundamental within him. He felt, in that very moment, far more alive than he had ever felt before. He felt like a free bird, no longer caged. Like a flower that bloomed in a peaceful land, untouched by predators, allowed to grow old and happy. He felt like he could finally Breathe.
So he did. He took that first Breath and followed the flow faithfully.
His sword cut through the young Beowolf like a hot knife through butter, smoothly flowing through the Grimm. The cut was efficient, terrifyingly so.
And it ended with Jaune, hunched over onto his knees, shouting in victory. Tired, but standing. Alive. Breathing.
And so very happy, that it was not he that had dissipated that night.
A fact that the black smoke rising from behind him accented.
Jaune grinned at the memory, remembering the elation he had felt that day. Winning that fight had done a lot of good for him.
He had improved by leaps and bounds after the event and had shown no slowing in his rate of improvement. He was, without a doubt, ready to shock the world!
Rather than just another 'exceptional Arc', he'd distinguish himself with this. That 'peak' he had only been able to dream about not even a year ago? He was going to get there. He was sure of it!
Eager to get back to practicing, Jaune quickly halted his thoughts and fell into a well-practiced stance once more.
He couldn't wait to see the look on his parents' faces later!
Night had already fallen when his father finally agreed to see his progress. It was to be a quick spar; Jaune against his father. Jaune knew his father was taking him lightly, mostly because his father had been there when he'd failed at the many, many different Arc-Techniques.
That's why now, in their Backyard, his father seemed comfortable just nonchalantly standing there. He wasn't worried at all. That was fine.
Jaune quickly judged the distance between himself and his father. Right now? His father stood around ten? Yeah, ten meters. That was quite the distance, but he was prepared.
Jaune fell into his stance naturally, his right foot sliding forward as always. His wooden sword found its way to his left hip, and he hunched forward somewhat. His aura bubbled forth, augmenting him, and he began to Breathe.
In a moment, Jaune had already begun to clear the distance between them.
Watch out, Slate Arc, you're in for a surprise today!
If one were to ask Slate if there was any hope for his son a day ago, he'd have told them to mind their own business. But he'd also think to himself, 'No, probably not.'
So when his son came up to him and all but begged him for a single spar, he'd decided that he'd use this spar to finally put him off the dangerous path of an Adventurer. It was to be a quick fight, perhaps 5 minutes to derail his son from his dangerous path.
It would start just as he expected, with his son attempting to use a basic Technique, and fail. It wouldn't take him long to demonstrate the skill himself while using it to essentially crush Jaune's spirits.
This will demonstrate to him that he is not fit for the life of an adventurer, and he can then guide his precious son towards a less dangerous goal in life-like a baker, perhaps.
That was his 'perfect scenario'. That was what he was going to make the truth, without a doubt!
Thus, with a determined yet grim smile, the aged man took up his stance once more, the wooden sword feeling so familiar-yet so foreign to his usual blade.
He prepared for Jaune to dash towards him and-
Jaune watched as his father sank into a stance, well-practiced and intimidating, regardless of whether or not the old man was rusty. It was terrifying, having to go up against such a large wave of power so early on, but he had asked for this to prove himself.
In an instant, he began to truly breathe once more. His aura ran through his body freely, augmenting his every movement, his every thought- and he let his wooden blade fly to his side, his right foot sliding forward and his knees bending- he hunched his back slightly and prepared for takeoff.
So, prove himself he shall!
Whatever preconceived notions Slate had about Jaune-he'd thrown them all away. Well, almostall. Not because he'd stopped underestimating him, no. But because he was unfamiliar with the stance his son had taken up.
Because the stance his son had taken wasn't true to a single Arc-technique, footwork included.
And because his son was currently dashing towards him, faster than he had ever seen him go before.
It was startling, to Slate, that Jaune arrived in front of him so quickly, even more so that the strike of his blade? It felt like it had some real weight behind it!
Throughout this, his son was also breathing differently-it wasn't difficult to tell. His breathing pattern had completely changed, and his body had been emitting a translucent white light. He was emitting his aura! He wasn't supposed to have known that, much less have the capacity to perform it so early on in his life!
And were those trails of water he'd seen trailing after Jaune's blade? This was unprecedented. It wasn't normal!
Even without the use of Aura, Jaune Arc, the 9-year old Jaune Arc, should not have been capable of any of this.
'This...I can work with this!'
This was moldable. Jaune...wasn't a lost cause! His son, he could make him strong! This was perfect!
So, he let his wooden blade fall towards his son, at a speed he felt the boy could react to. He was going to push him to his limits, and get him to show the full range of his improvement!
'This isn't working at all!'
Jaune struggled to react, despite all the enhancements he had used his Aura to make. Regardless of what he did, his father simply batted it aside, as if it didn't make him sweat at all.
This wasn't at all how he'd thought he could do against his father. Even with all that training, he wasn't close to strong enough to put a scratch on him.
But determination is just about the only thing he knew he had going for him, so with a renewed vigor, he sliced horizontally towards his father, and for the first time in the entire spar, he had used the move he honed for months.
"Water Surface Slash!"
With a desperate shout, he sliced at his father horizontally, the usual thin trail of water following his blade exponentially growing in size.
He watched as his father began to glow, and with a simple counter, he had bat his sword aside.
Then he knew no more, as his father's wooden blade fell upon his head.
So...I went back and reread last chapted and was a little unhappy with it. So, I tried to do some more quality control with this chapter. Hope yall enjoy it!