Chapter 3: Background Character

"Pyrrha, I know I'm going through a hard time right now, but I'm not that depressed."

— 4 —

There are some words in the English language that objectively improve any sentence you can weasel them in. Not because they're particularly vivid, but because they just have a magical quality all to themselves when slung into a sentence. One of those words is vigorously.

For example, the pounding in my head felt like someone were vigorously jerking off a jackhammer in my cerebellum without any lube. Just the jackhammer and a pair of chapped hands in critical need of hand lotion. Bits of dry hand were vigorously flaking off into my brain.

On impulse I reached beside my bed for ibuprofen, acetaminophen, or bourbon—whichever I had lying out. Instead of drugs, I grabbed an arm that I'm pretty sure didn't belong on my nightstand.

My eyes shot open and I instantly knew where I was. I was starting to become a frightfully known entity to the campus' nursing staff and vice versa. What was not a known entity was the girl hovering over my cozy medical bed.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, finding that my mouth felt like I'd been chugging cotton swabs all night. The loudness of my own voice in my throat agitated the headache.

"Your teammate, duh," she said, adjusting her little weatherbeaten top hat.

I looked her up and down, taking in the details, trying to find some recognizable hint. My eyes settled at the weapon she was carrying, an aegis like mine and a sword that doubled as a revolver and could become a halberd. Pretty meh as far as weapons in this world went.

"Shadow Person? But—you're a guy!"

Shadow Person shrugged. "I changed my mind."

All I could do was stare. "Well obviously."

She nodded. Yes, this is obvious. Good boy, Jaune.

I sat up in my bed and tried to ignore a feeling of vertigo. "The aura thing worked at least, right? The thing Weiss was doing."

"Heard you passed out like a bitch when she tried it."

"That's probably because it was so powerful and I was so tired from a super good workout," I lied. I was sure I could totally bullshit some reason why Help, My Pet Dog Can't Possibly Be This Hot! counted as exercise.

Shadow Person gave me a pitying look like she were a teacher and I a young student who's just proudly proclaimed he knows how to end all suffering. 'We just need to take away all the guns and knives from the bad people and give them to the mimes, mankind's mutual enemy.'

"No, Jaune, because you do not have an activated aura."

I felt my stomach drop and a fresh wave of nausea settled over me. "Shit," I hissed. "You know why?"

"It's 'cause you prolly a bitch."

An attempt at a grin came out a wolfish leer. "Is that any way to talk to your team leader?"

"You don't even know my name."

"Yes, but you have an affectionate nickname, which is even better and shows I've put forth the extra mile connecting with you."

She wasn't buying it. "You good to leave yet or no? We all drew straws who'd get you and I lost. I wanna get back to procrastinating about studying."

"Aww, you drew straws to compete for my attention," I cooed.

Shadow Person loomed in towards me and I half-thought she was going for a kiss. "You're not funny or charming," she said bluntly. "You think you are, but you're just an asshole. I know your type and how this story always ends. You're at Beacon to be a Huntsman. Start acting like one, Jaune."

The complete seriousness and lack of pretension in her voice froze me. I didn't have a response to that, not immediately. My gut wanted to fight her on this, but nothing that sprang to mind sounded worth uttering or even halfway honest.

I heaved a compressed sigh. "Look, I—I know, alright?"

"So stop it," she said in a tone brokering no argument. "We're a team. We gotta work together, get along."

"It's not that easy, Shadow Girl," I said with a vague gesture. "It's just—there's bad stuff going on, y'know? I only got half an idea what I'm doing and this here is all… y'know?"

"Really? Excuses? All that after Weiss told you the problem we have with breaking your aura in?" she asked with a sneer.

I looked away.

Shadow Person stood up with a disgusted shake of the head and just left me there in bed.

I'm not sure how long I sat there alone.

It's only been a week or two since showing up here and already I'm back to old habits. Great fuckin' start. Shadow Person wasn't even wrong. Not by a country mile. But, like, there's a serious difference between being able to look back and go "yep, I was an asshole" versus realizing it in the moment.

That's no excuse and I knew it.

At some point as I staring at my arm and turning off and on my shield thing, a nurse showed up to kick me out since I wasn't dead and still hadn't apologized for all the "sexual harassment" I'd committed last time I was here. Stupid campus nurses couldn't take a light-hearted joke.

I stumbled out of the building and tried to find the dorms this late at night.

The problem with self-loathing is that it's boring. Nobody wants to hear about your shitty problems, not even shrinks. College just trains the good psychotherapist how to nod at the right times and pretend they're listening. Same shit here.

I found myself standing at the far side of Beacon, overlooking the city of Vale at night. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how to use my aura. Didn't even have a semblance. I'd bodyjacked some poor sonofabitch and had to make due like this, having shot myself in the foot because I thought I was being funny at the time.

Whatever. I could handle this. Christ, I'd gone up against a fate-twisting abomination and only had mild crippling emotional trauma from the ordeal.

One version of me at least.

Okay nevermind actually saying that out loud I cringed so hard I wound up in a ball on the ground. Nevermind that. Forget all of that. Oh god that thought was going to haunt me for years to come in midnight embarrassment attacks.

Thankfully I still had that pack of cigarettes in one of my pockets. I shook one out and pressed the far end against the pack's ignition patch, which dutifully lit the end up in a perfect cherry. It helped scrub out the lingering smell and taste of vomit .

Cigarettes are like Nickelback. Everyone hates them, but when you really ask them, most people will admit that there's one song of theirs they like. Or two. Oh fine, three. Guilty pleasures only, you understand. Next thing you know you've got people shamefully agreeing that despite the pop culture hated, maybe some of Nickelback isn't so bad.

Next thing you know you're chainsmoking your fifth cigarette and realizing your pack is empty.

It's particularly nasty here in Vale. They marketed cigarettes here between men and women awful clear, with men's cigarettes leaving a pleasantly musky aroma about you and a clean taste in your mouth. To say nothing of whatever they mixed with the tobacco; every puff sent a pleasant tingling through your nerves like good ASMR. How everyone wasn't hooked was beyond me, especially considering they never asked for ID.

With that very thought, I found myself walking from Beacon down into Vale City, listening to some schlocky R&B that Jaune had on his phone. My trip ended at the shitty gas station at the edge of town where I bought a new pack plus a small jerry can of gasoline and a sixteen-case of Amphetamine Cola Zero ("chocked full of more all-natural diet-flavored dextroamphetamines than leading competitor Juggernog Lite!"). It cost me a lot of my remaining cash. According to old phone texts I'd scrolled through, Jaune actually got a small monthly allowance so long as he attended Beacon. The idea, sayeth his mother, was that he would have enough free cash to spend so that he could spend all his effort towards studying instead of working a job.

Problem is, I needed more. While I knew how to use a sword and shield from both real practice and Jaune's muscle memory, I wasn't that good at it. I needed firearms. Thems I was good with, even though the best medal I got was sharpshooter. And given my lack of an aura, the more damage I could do from further away, the better I was in a team.

So aside from saving up and not spending all my money on legal drugs, how could I amass some good money? I sat on the curb outside the gas station door, cigarette in mouth, and googled recent Dust robberies. There was a cash reward for any advice that helped lead to the arrest of the unknown agents who've been robbing Dust stores and shipments lately.

"You're still here?" the faunus night clerk said as he stepped outside to take out the trash.

"Sup, monkey man?"

His nose wrinkled in disgust. "I'm a wolf, you dick."

"And here I thought you were dog faunus, bitch?"

He groaned. Minutes later he walked back and stopped. "You looking up recent Dust robberies?"

I glanced up from my phone. "It's the White Fang."

Now he looked confused. "How ya know?"

"Beacon teaches its students some mad skills," I said, patting my case of Amphetamine Cola Zero. "And boy could a guy use that reward money on his student's budget."

He gave an uncomfortable groan. "Don't sound smart going after White Fang."

I scoffed. "I've known people from the organization. Trust me, I can figure where they gon' hit next. Might could be some easy cash, friend."

Moreover, it just might save the world. While I didn't know enough to be some precog saving the day with precise future knowledge, common narrative sense dictated the White Fang and their buddy Roman of the Dress-Cane were probably what's responsible for whatever apocalypse happens after the Vytal festival. It just make sense given all the terrorism they'd been up to. If I found a way to axe their plans, I'd be getting rich and doing away with the clear and present danger.

This was main quest material right here! A way to be a hero. A task to bring team BASS together as a unit, in fact.

The wolf-faunus bit his lip and went back to manning the front counter. I stubbed the butt out under my boot and found my way back to the team dorm, lugging my cola and gasoline all the way back up to Beacon.

At this ungodly hour the girls were asleep. That included Shadow Person, and tonightie she was defs a cutie in a nightie. Needed to figure out what that was about. Tomorrow, of course.

I shaved my face clean with a straight razor in silence, showered, and brushed my teeth. Hygiene is important. I'm pretty sure Jaune already had one too many cavities as it was!

"Wait, those are yours?" Mittens said in horrified disbelief.

I looked up at her surprised, the charcoal mask coating me like the world's least enthusiastic blackface. "Sugah, clear and healthy skin is important. Thought you were asleep?"

"You take very long, very loud showers," she said, posture rigid.

"It's a guy thing, you wouldn't understand," I said quickly.

Mittens stared at me. "But seriously that's yours? I thought all that skin care stuff was Weiss'!"

I gestured to the bathroom countertop. "This here pile is mine. The ones locked away in that cage over there are hers. Any questions?"

"Oh great, I've been using your skin-care stuff."

"What?"

"I thought I was stealing from Weiss," she said, protectively folding her arms and looking away.

I paused and had the greatest idea ever. So I was supposed to act like a good team member and Huntsman, right? I could do that. Actually be likable, even.

"You, uh, you wanna know my routine?" I asked. "Maybe do it with me? Or maybe you don't. Not all of us get born as pretty as you."

I somehow avoided cringing as I said it. I couldn't have been more blatant if I'd tried. Why yes, I am saying nice things purely to get you to like me, Blake. I am an asshole. No, I'm too much of a coward to actually apologize. This is my next best bet. I am totally reformed and a good guy now.

"Hm, no, that's too girly," she said decisively. Was that the ghost of a smile on her lips?

I clicked my tongue. "Mittens, you got any idea who you're talking to?"

"Some asshole who can't remember my name."

"Mittens is a superior name and—"

She held up a hand. "Don't care."

"Well I care about you," I said, putting hands over my heart.

"Cool," she said with that kind of unenthused disinterest only a girl can give a guy. "You gonna leave already? I gotta use the bathroom."

I pulled off my charcoal mask and with it all the dirt and grime from my pores. "Fine. But you and me is gonna get along, Mittens, even if it kills me."

"Deal."

a/n: So, there's this standing offer for anyone who wants to help beta/edit/spitball ideas about I, Jaune with me. Quality control and in-character waifus are a staple at Maison d'Orléans.