I, Jaune: Or, The Context-Insensitive Semblance

by Eric d'Orleans

Jaune's new team Gaslights, Gatekeeps, and Girlbosses its way from one mental health crisis to another. A story about self-improvement, failing to live up to your own expectations, cute girls suffering emotionally, and learning how Blake somehow goes from Bland to Best Girl. The ride only stops in case of emergency, and crippling trauma is NOT an emergency!

59. Volume 6, Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Hey! Hier Kommt Jaune

"This young man he died fair soon
By the light of a hunter's moon
'Twas not by bone, nor yet by blade
Of the berries of the woody nightshade."

— 5 —

The biggest problem with finding my Zweites Ich was a simple question. Where would I be in this situation? The issue was, I'd spent most of my life here with the answer to that question being something to the effect of "with Blake or Coco." Or alternatively the gym. Coco hadn't recognized me when she walked past me, so that ruled her out. And although my student ID still let me into the gym, I couldn't find myself there. The only one I recognized was Cardin, slamming his weights around like an idiot. He also didn't know me. And I couldn't just text Blake either. I checked. Apparently she had my number blocked. Weiss too.

Which meant the only sure to find way to find myself was to broadly retrace my steps and find my teammate. If anyone would know where I was, it would be them. Even if it was only for the purposes of trying to avoid me. Assuming my theory was correct.

Which inevitably led me back to the student center and the girl manning the front desk.

"Hi, back so soon?" Cards asked in a voice that made me want to cringe. Mostly because, after a moment of thinking, I realized she sounded like Nikki Minaj trying too hard to sound White. She was about the same size as Ruby, dressed in the typical girl's uniform of the academy with the exception of a blue beret over her head and a rather tasteless pair of stockings that looked like purple tentacles.

She leaned forwards over the desk a little too eagerly, her red eyes wide and excited. And staring a little too hard at my exposed midriff. I tried not to think of her as anything more than the weird but helpful girl who was the reason I had the revolver at my hip. "Or is it more drama? I loved the fight you had earlier! Pretty much the most exciting thing I've had all day beside the parrots."

"Heya, Cards," I said as casually as I could muster. It was still a force of effort to keep the anxious energy down. To prevent my fists from unconsciously balling. I wanted to hit something, preferably something resembling my reflection.

She gasped. "You still know my name!"

I gestured with my chin. "You're wearing a name tag."

"You looked at my chest to read my name! Which is sad. No matter how much I stare at your chest, I don't get your name. That's not fair. You should wear a name tag."

I blinked. "It is not yet time to reveal my name."

She popped her butt back into her chair and took out a notepad. After a few quick scribbles, she said, "Gotcha. Foreign accent and mysteriously refuses to give his name. I'm making a list so I don't forget you if you come back and need my help. Can I draw you for future reference?"

"Prefer it if you didn't."

"Cool! Non-consensual art is the best kind of art." She bit her tongue and doodled away.

I compressed a sigh. "Look, Cards, I'm looking for someone."

"I don't know where your ex-girlfriend went. But I do know that means you're single!"

"My ex-girlfriend is dead," I said. "I'm looking for my partner."

"Mysterious and tragic," she said, nodding. "You should really consider an eye patch to complete the look. I dig the necklace, but I know a girl who already has one of those and stealing someone else's style is a no-go."

"Who, Ruby?"

Cards nodded, absently tightening her beret down little more. "Yeah, her. A girl who is perfectly proportioned and not at all too tall. Unlike the invincible girl. Too tall. Or that girl in charge of Team CFVY."

I remembered the last time I seriously talked to Cards. I'd thought we were flirting, and I decided to go with it. The moment I returned any interest seemed to throw her off her game. She went from being coy and flirtatious to a bit more defensive.

So I gave up trying to be subtle and went for the throat. "I'll buy you dinner if you help me find one of my teammates."

It was the most remarkable thing. Just by offering, I could actually see the interest visibly leak away from her eyes. Something more skeptical replaced it. "Kind of a dick move offering to take a girl on the condition that she help you find another girl. I mean, c'mon."

"I'm actually just straight up hoping to manipulate you," I said evenly, adjusting my armored shoulder. "Once I get what I want I have zero intention of ever meeting you again."

She blinked, a myriad of emotions flicking across her face. The expression that won was a kind of mistrustful intrigue. "Wow. That's so cold you make me wanna ask mommy for a blankie."

"I value honesty in a relationship."

"Yeah, but you can't just give it to me dry like that! You gotta prep-wet things first. Ouch." Cards blew a strand of black bangs from her eyes and sighed. "Alright, fine. You wanna be real? What's she look like?"

"You don't remember the girl in the white tights with the black hair bow?"

"Oh, her. Girl badly pretending she's not faunus. That's not some super dramatic reveal I just made, is it? That your teammate hides who she is and has been lying to you and everyone. You did know that, right?"

"Who doesn't at this point?"

Cards shrugged, seeming somehow disappointed. "I guess. Anyhow, yeah, I don't know where she went. I was hoping you had some other teammate I could help with."

I gestured, measuring out Weiss' height. "I do. About yea tall, wearing a pair of heels that cost a year's salary, answers to Weiss Schnee."

Cards put her fingers together over her mouth, and spun around in her chair a couple times for good measure. "Um, rich girl. Kind of mean. Short tempered."

"She's a nice person once you get to know her." I paused. "And so long as you don't ask her to pose for your nude art class. She'll threaten to castrate you if you do."

"I've never been castrated."

"I'd hope not."

Cards blew air through her lips, once again adjusting her beret. She kept fidgeting with it like a man with glasses might. "Yeah, that one I think I saw recently. Half an hour ago, maybe? She was trying to find coins, offering a line of credit in exchange for pocket money."

"Why on earth would she want cash?"

The little red-eyed girl shrugged. "Probably because I told her the long distance calls from the CCT tower to Atlas were cash only. But in my defense, she was mean to me. I tried asking for her astrological sign and she told me she was born in a hospital, not under the stars. Very rude of her."

I folded my arms, shaking my head. "Really petty, but I have to say, I respect the hustle. I guess I'll find her in the call center. Thanks for the help, girl."

She happily waved me off. "I demand food next time I see you. This is a threat. I will break your knees."

"I'll do it in some other timeline."

"I am eternal in all realities!" she called after me.

It wasn't that long of a walk to the giant tower at the heart of the academy. You could pretty much find it no matter where you were on campus just by looking up and guessing. For reasons I couldn't articulate, the place made me anxious. I kept feeling like the secretary, some scorpion faunus, was staring at me as I walked past. There was a lot less hustle and bustle than I would have expected in the place. But then again, I don't usually show up in the late evenings for my detention shifts with the soldiers. It had never been too crowded in those hours. On a whim, I scanned my student ID in the elevator and tried to see if it would take me to the IT room towards the top.

It didn't, naturally, which made perfect sense to me. I'd helped redesign the system after all. Users and floor access were tied together via the principle of least privilege. Your student ID and guest passes could get you into the call center or whatever, but more specialized floors like IT and the Headmaster's office were specifically tied to your ID and would actually expire and kick you from being able to go to those floors if you didn't show up at least once every month. Lance Sergeant Ozrick and I had set up a system where the secretary, someone named Smiles who I guessed was the scorpion dude, would forward us the IDs so we could grant them temporary card swipe access on the group policy.

It wasn't a very complicated system, but it was a damn sight more secure than the endless list of names that never expired that the system was before I started fucking with it. All it really required was a basic knowledge of security and how to operate a group policy GUI.

Still, it was a student ID. That let me ride all the way up to the call center for transcontinental communication. Weiss wasn't very hard to find. Her stark white hair was easy to pick out from a crowd. And she wasn't anywhere close to being in a crowd. I found her with her head in her hands, elbows on the table of the turned-off screen. The girl was muttering quietly to herself, slowly shaking her head. I debated how to approach her. Even as my friend, Weiss wasn't the most approachable of people. Before managing to drag her into some kind of duet with me over one of my favorite songs from A Perfect Circle, she'd probably been my biggest enemy. Just her very nature and demeanor had broken Blake down to tears, a fact which a petty part of me still held against her.

Somehow, I didn't think that showing up just playing the guitar would win her friendship all over again. That was a slow process, and I needed to be quick.

I closed my eyes and steadied my heart. I let the background burn of Aura in my eyes keep me level and grounded. All so that I could coolly pull up a chair and sit down beside her, giving her adequate space so I wouldn't be suffocating her with my presence like an overeager pet octopus.

She didn't look up at first. "This space is occupied. Go away."

I swallowed and said in my most calm, collected voice, "Not happening, Weiss."

The girl inhaled sharply, twisting in my direction. "Jaune, what the? Why do you look like an armored male stripper?"

I could feel the sweat on my back. Compared to how she'd been just a couple of hours ago in the caves, her white dress was so clean, so pristine. There was no dirt or blood or anything. I looked into that fierce expression of hers and tried to remind myself that this was the same girl who nearly started a fight with Coco because she felt guilty about what happened to me. No matter what exterior she put up, her walls of hostility and eyes, Weiss was still a person beneath it all. Someone smart and driven and reasonable. Long before I was, the girl was somebody worthy of respect irregardless of the situation of her birth.

"Don't matter. I want to talk and ain't fidna waste your time. Do you remember Montluçon?"

She gave me a bewildered look. At first I thought she was going to try to fight me on principle. To hiss and scratch at me like Blake. But she seemed to pick up something in my tone and demeanor. It wasn't the friendliest look, but she managed to meet my eyes, and for a hopeful second I thought she would remember something.

Instead, a sour expression settled over her countenance. "I don't care if you think I can afford it. I'm not buying us team tickets to a resort city or whatever stupid scheme you're cooking up this time."

I tried not to look angry. All I did was examine the black monitor. "You don't look happy. Were you calling your sister?"

She set up straighter. "How did… were you just watching me the whole time?"

"Lucky guess," I dismissed. There was a part of me that wanted to be snappier. To try to match her stiff body language and tone in my own form of passive aggressive hostility. Or maybe just demand why I was here and force the answers out of Weiss. But there was still this background hope this was my Weiss. Honestly, I don't know why I asked if she remembered anything. I wasn't really sure what this reality was, an alternate universe, a time jump, or anything. But no matter the circumstances, I still knew this to be Weiss.

I used to hate her. And now I liked her.

Even if this was my friend from some bizarro alternate timeline world or whatever, she was still the person I knew after a fashion. It felt wrong to try to bully what I wanted from her. As if I had forgotten every lesson I had learned since getting my act together and trying to become a better man.

"Why are your lucky guesses always so on point?" she asked dubiously. She was talking to me, not demanding I leave or trying to kill me. I had to believe that was progress.

"Believe it or not, I pay attention to things."

Weiss gave me a look like she expected more from that statement. Something insulting. I remembered once telling her I pay attention to things besides just your cup size in a fit of angry frustration. Although for the life of me I couldn't recall the context of the conversation, just that I had told her that in the juvenile hope it would insult her in some way.

"Okay," she said slowly.

I made a shot into the dark. "Do we know each other well enough to try to have a heart-to-heart about family?"

She made a rather unladylike noise in her throat as she scoffed. "No. But when have boundaries ever stopped you?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"It's a polite suggestion that you don't."

I held up my hands. "Message received. Boundaries established and respected."

The look she gave me was so baffled that it was almost kind of funny in a soul-crushing kind of way. "Who are you and what did you do with Jaune?"

"It's not what I did, but what I'm going to do."

"Stop drinking and go to therapy?"

"Done and done. Do you believe in second chances?"

Weiss hesitated. "I don't believe in giving them, no. They're something you have to earn."

"Because nothing given freely is ever worth having, right?"

"Get out of my head," she chastised, but without any heat. It almost sounded like we were establishing a rapport.

"I'll get out of your head and hair if you can help me out here," I said.

She didn't reply, merely arching an eyebrow in a vaguely imploring way. Not an outright denial.

"I'm trying to find Blake."

Weiss frowned. "Call her?"

"She blocked me."

"Gee," she said dryly, "I wonder why." And then she caught herself. "Wait, since when have you known her name? You never call her Blake."

"It was an act of willful ignorance," I said, folding one leg over the other in the chair. "I've lost the will to do a lot of stupid things these days. About the only one I've got left is kicking my own ass and trying to find Blake. Alternatively, you could send me a text asking where I am."

"Is this some kind of trick?"

"I'm a one-trick pony and you've seen my entire circus. Just humor me."

"You're not nearly funny enough to humor. Besides, I don't know your number."

"Do you know Blake's and can you ask her where she is?"

She folded her arms. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a definite maybe."

I grinned. "Maybe is a baby who always says yes."

Weiss stared at me intently for a very long moment. The dubious expression slowly turned into a concentrated scowl. Until her eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. "You—is that an Aura? How did you, I mean, I thought you didn't have one. You constantly make a point of somehow avoiding being expelled despite it!"

I shrugged indifferently. "I told you I've gone through some changes. There's a lot of things we don't know about each other because we never sat down to really talk. That's been my fault. I haven't been a very good friend."

"'Friend' is kind of a loaded word. You shouldn't just go throwing it around at everyone. It makes the word meaningless and base."

"Based, not base," I said with that barest hint of a smile. "Big difference."

"It's one letter off."

"It's the motion of the ocean, not the size of the ship that matters." I shook my head. "Look, the point I'm trying to make is, I haven't been a very good team leader. Whatever you remember over these past few months, that's never happening again. You don't have to trust me. You don't have to believe me. I've earned neither." The more I spoke, the more intense I felt. She was leaning back slightly, as if trying to get away without making it too obvious as I said, "All I'm asking for is a favor. That you text Blake and ask her where she is so I can find her. I want you to do this for me and then I'll go away, maybe forever."

The girl bared just the slightest bit of teeth at me, not a smile by any means, but not exactly a grimace either. Like she couldn't decide herself what to do with her face. Slowly, as if afraid she might drop it and break it into a thousand pieces, she took out her scroll and sent the text.

Blake replied less than a minute later.

"Library, second floor, historical fiction," she said. The edges of her lip crinkled with a smile. "Which means she's probably on the third floor looking at trashy romance novels. It's kind of hard to ignore the junk she reads."

I stood up. "Thank you."

"Wait!" Weiss called out suddenly before I could leave.

I looked over my shoulder at her, curiously. Waiting for her to speak. She almost seemed surprised by herself. The girl sat there, so delicately, like she wanted to say something and couldn't get it out.

Weiss sniffed, feeling at her nose. "You're not Jaune. I remember Jaune. Who he is and how he acts. I don't remember you. Who did I just give Blake's location to?"

I stared back at her for a long moment. "You gave it to someone who loves her and hates himself."

"I…" For a moment, she looked woozy. Her fingers went up to her face, above her eye precisely where she didn't have a scar. She seemed surprised to pull her hand away and find it clean. Slowly, like she didn't know what she was even saying or why, Weiss said, "There's stories like this. Of things that wear other peoples faces. Wendigos. My nursemaid once told me a story of a wendigo that pretended to be human for so long it forgot it was ever a monster. Until the day a Huntsman came to kill it."

"Trust me," I said with a smile, letting my Aura wash over me. "I haven't forgotten."

If I had any doubts something was breaking down the more I pushed, here it was. But instead of snapping out of it, she just looked lost and confused. As if I'd come into her room and broken all her favorite toys without explanation and left.

Which, in an abstract way, was what I was doing.

"…okay," she said breathlessly, frozen in place. All she was doing was rubbing the scar Blake gave her, the one absent from her face. Lost in malformed reveries or something. I knew I wouldn't get anything more from her.

I nodded once and left.

— 6 —

I nodded once and still couldn't leave. In hindsight, this was probably my fault. But I personally blamed whoever designed the dorm room ventilation system. Despite the physics of RWBY and the general tropiness of the world, no one actually designed the vents to support human life. A couple of times I thought I would just get stuck and die. But it turns out if you start panicking and humming the Mission Impossible theme yourself, eventually you get sweaty enough to slide your way through the metal tube.

Of course, my grand plan to spy on Cinder and whatever the rest of her team was called vis-a-vis the air duct had kind of fallen apart around the time that I had fallen in.

Like I said, not my fault the vents weren't designed to hold a couple hundred pounds of pure manly energy. I didn't even have the good fortune to fall onto a cute girl in some kind of awkward pose I'd have to explain. I just kind of fell onto the ground and broke my tailbone.

Three sets of eyes locked on me. One was the Eurasian girl with the poorly animated legs. The other with toothpaste hair who had the unfortunate implications of being the show's first black character and the first character shown actively committing a crime. Then also some guy I kept mentally thinking of as Dick Kickem for reasons I couldn't articulate.

Speaking of inability to articulate. I panicked and threw my hands up. "The aristocrats!" I proclaimed.

That didn't seem to help.

They all jumped into combat stances.

"Who are you?" toothpaste girl demanded.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was maintenance?"

"Maintenance?" the boy scoffed.

I nodded once, and still got the feeling I couldn't leave. Which brings me back to where this whole thing started. I'm pretty sure that was my life flashing before my eyes, but it was kind of strange that my life only began like a couple of paragraphs ago.

"What did you hear?" Cinder asked.

I swallowed and stammered, backing myself against the window. Maybe I could make the fall and be fine. Except, no, that was ridiculous, why would I ever think that? At just two stories above the ground, if I jumped, I'd certainly die.

"Well, I heard certain rumors about a Korean girl who really wants to fuck you!" I tried, back against the glass.

Which was at least far enough away from the expected answer that it was almost like I had verbally flashbanged them. But it would be too generous to ever consider the idea that I would ever think anything through, that I would ever use any pause or momentary advantage to actually try to be clever. I really wanted a pull of my emotional support whiskey.

"Who knows you're here?" toothpaste asked. "Who sent you?"

"My own lack of judgment and foresight, primarily," I said. "And, uh, everyone knows I'm here? My partner, my teammates, that girl with the silver eyes, and I'm pretty sure I posted about it on social media just in case."

I didn't tell anyone. It's not like they would listen to me. But whenever someone asked if anyone else knows where you are or the information or everything, you damn well tell them lots of people do so they can't just murder you. I was wise to your schemes, toothpaste black girl!

"But it's okay, cuz I didn't actually tell him your secret plans because that would, you know, go against my interests?"

"So we're back to asking what you overheard," Cinder said dangerously. But it was kind of hard to take her seriously when she was showing just that much leg. It was like trying to fight a bitch in BDSM gear. There's no way someone didn't design her with one hand.

"I—I—I mean, I know everything," I said. "The Dust, something about the CCTS tower. This weird little mute girl with ice cream hair. You're not actually real students."

"What?" Cinder demanded, snapping her fingers. Something about that just agitated the oncoming pneumonia I was feeling in my nose. I flinched away from it even before her hand lit up with fire.

"I mean, I—they told me because I'm on your side!" I stammered. No one killed me, so I continued. "There was this lady. Skin disorder lookin' ass. Sounds suspiciously like Jen Taylor? I didn't get the details. At first I was like, 'Oh, are you talking to me? Because pizza al-Jauné doesn't typically fuck with a paisano such as yourself looking like an albino's cock.' Long story short, I mean, I'm with you guys now, and also I know IT, and security for networks, and also if you kill me that would be bad for your plans to kill everyone. So don't? Please? Kill them, not me. I know some pretty worthless cat girl the world would be better off without. I can help!"

Anyhow, that's how I ended up joining a plot to kill literally everyone I knew. But honestly, it sounded pretty fun. And even if I didn't eventually have the balls to betray Cinder, it's not like I'd lose anything. I mean, what has a bitch like Netflix No-Chill ever done for me?

I was going to die a horrible death, wasn't I?

I wondered what kind of wacky shenanigans I would pull to get out of ever facing the consequences for my actions this time.

— 7 —

I met her eyes as I left the CCTS tower. The wind whipped in the background as a light snow fell. And yet like many Huntresses, she chose to dress inappropriately for the occasion. A lot of people did that, like myself. Just the hint of Aura was enough to keep you toasty and alive on your treks between buildings. You only changed into more permanent winter gear for prolonged stays out in the cold. And I could imagine a dress as expensive as hers looked wouldn't be something she liked to keep in a moth-eaten closet.

I would have just ignored her. The only thing on my mind was getting to the library and finding Blake. With some pushing, something in Weiss had broken down. But she only went so far. It was the thought that this reality was different somehow. That maybe the people like Weiss, maybe the people like Blake, were in a situation like me except they couldn't remember. I couldn't explain the feeling. I didn't even have any solid evidence besides Weiss breaking down. Somehow I knew that if I could break through to anyone, it would be my partner.

Then I could find whoever else was wearing my flesh.

Well, whoever was stealing what I had unfortunately found myself wearing. But I've been an American in three of my lives. And like one of our senators said of the Panama canal, "We stole it fair and square."

And just like that, I would have ignored the girl. Except for the flash of recognition in her widening eyes. I made it three steps past her, down the little stairs, before I felt her staring. I turned to face her as the wind buffeted her black hair, sprinkling it with snow until it had a salt & pepper look.

Something about her felt significant, but wherever she was from was locked so far behind any of my thoughts and concerns that she was just another shadow person to me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, and the voice cinched it in. Her words came out slow, not like molasses, but like the dripping venom of some viper. Whatever it touched would die irregardless of how fast the injection came.

Another forgotten villain running her schemes in the background. Cinder Fall. As soon as I realized, I hated her. She was as much an outside context problem to me as I myself was to this world. But what I hated was that I only really remembered her from a comedy sketch version of…

RWBY.

The word, the acronym, felt like poison. It was an ever-present thumb on the scale of reality. A suggestion that maybe more than this little world, that none of what I was going through was real. Once upon a time, I barely considered Blake real, barely considered my team real. Cogito ergo sum and all that fucking nonsense. I hadn't once thought of shit in any kind of meta context since the night I gained my Aura. Not until Simone had…

"Do I know you, Cinder?" I asked.

She didn't look confident or sure of herself as I named her. "Do I know you, Jaune?"

RWBY.

Whatever the situation of my death and this limbo, the people I knew and cared for were real. It didn't matter how I rationalized knowing things I shouldn't. This place was my home as a matter of fact not even worth thinking about. It just was. That was that. And the thought that I had to remind myself this was enough to make me want to strangle this woman.

I felt the corners of my lip curling to a sneer. "Depends. Do you know where to find me?"

"Is this an invitation?"

"It's an interrogation," I said simply.

"And if I refuse?"

"Your consent was never up for discussion."

Cinder offered me a toothy little smile. "Are you even Jaune?"

"You'd know if it was me. I tend to make an impression."

"Yes. Yes, you certainly do," she purred.

I honestly couldn't tell if I was threatening her or flirting, or flirtatiously threatening. Odds are the other version of myself had just sexually harassed her at some point. Or, probably, I had kept trying to go after the White Fang or whatever and gotten involved with her somehow. It didn't seem to be my concern. I was wasting my time.

"Yeah," I said, compressing a sigh. "I got it, you're hot, but not my type. Go fuck yourself. I'll deal with you next volume."

I hoped I would forget her. She was never my problem. Let Ruby and her team of competent pint-sized murder machines deal with that stuff. The only thing I wanted was my friends back. The longer I went without them, the more time I had to think up demeaning dad jokes.

For all the talk I heard of the school library, I realized I'd only ever been here once or twice. The last time I could recall was when I properly invited my partner out for sushi. After Yang had nearly brained me, of course, but details, details. I didn't really have a need for books. And unlike a university, Beacon provided its textbooks free of charge. Which meant I didn't feel monetarily guilty for never opening them. Usually I just took good notes in class and compared what I had with Weiss'. Nine times out of ten, that was enough to ace the written tests.

I walked into the building without any fanfare or needing to prove ID. The library had a name, of course. It sounded vaguely Anglo-Saxon. Like the student center or the Fishery, it had probably been financed by a wealthy donor. My old university still used to reach out to me as an alumni for donations. Never mind the fact that I could never afford to go to school in the first place, and only got in via a scholarship. I never had enough money that it was worth the effort to try to commit tax evasion through donations and charity.

As I climbed the stairs, I idly wondered if Weiss knew how to commit tax fraud. I imagined it would be a fun way to mess with her. Until I realized that I had left her mentally broken back in the tower. I had to pray that trying to talk to Blake, really talk to her instead of just being confused and scared and flabbergasted, would break through to her.

That I could solve some kind of riddle or puzzle or maybe punch enough people in the face to wake up broken and bloody in a cave. Then we could drag ourselves out of those tunnels, report back on Team CCHS, and then return to our regularly scheduled slice of life adventures without pain or suffering. Montluçon was just a handful of subjective hours ago, yet everything back then felt like a lifetime away.

I found Blake on the third floor right where Weiss had said she'd be. She wasn't really sitting at a table, exactly. She just kind of lined up a bunch of chairs by one side of a desk and was laying across them on her back, holding her scroll up and reading something on it. She looked equal parts dorky and content.

No one was around but us. The school did seem oddly empty. I might have thought that was suspicious, but then again, this was the mission season. Lots of teams should have been out on assignment, rotating in and out with other teams. It wasn't worth questioning.

What was worth questioning was what I was doing. What I was planning. How would I get through her hatred to ask her an illogical, impossible question. I creeped on Blake for a hot minute, just staring and thinking, before realizing that trying to rationalize my way through a conversation with a girl was pointless. Improv all the way, baby. Like flirting with the chick at the bar, sometimes the only bullet you had in the chamber was the pickup line. Followed by genuinely having no follow-up because you never expected the line to work and start a conversation.

But like I said, details, details.

I grabbed the last chair from her little row, the one supporting her feet, and pulled it away. It surprised her enough that she dropped her scroll straight on her face and yelled in surprise. She set up sharply just in time to see me sit down and give her an even look.

"Hi, Blake. I think I fell into an alternate universe. I already broke Weiss. I'm hoping we can talk."

There it was again. Naked disgust. She actually kicked away the chair between us, creating more space. "I told you to leave me alone!"

I felt my heart clawing through my chest. I swallowed, doing everything I could to keep an even façade. But it couldn't help me from withering under the sheer hatred in her amber eyes. I had seen anger in them before. I had seen care. And sometimes, like that one time I grabbed her hand and dragged her off a roof with me, I saw both at the same time. It still couldn't really prepare me for this.

"Anywhere you go, we go together," I said, ignoring the sweat on the nape of my neck.

"Oh great, you're stalking me again," she said.

"I haven't done that since Montluçon. Do you remember?"

"Stop it, stop trying to make references to things. It's not funny now, it wasn't funny last time, and it wasn't funny the first time!"

"We need to talk."

"No, 'we' don't need anything." She folded her arms, scooting her chair an inch away from me. "I don't ask you for much. But I told you I wanted to be left alone today. One thing, just one thing is all I ask for—and yet this is the third time I've seen you today."

I couldn't find a comfortable position in my mouth to rest my tongue. "What makes today special?"

"Are you—actually, don't answer that. You are stupid."

"I've never pretended otherwise." I swallowed, and nearly choked. "I just want to talk."

"Like I haven't heard that one before. And stop looking so sad. Let me guess, 'My dick is dead, can I bury it in your ass'? Already heard that one."

It made me feel dirty. More than just a sweat. I think I would have preferred my skin sloughing off in the radiation of the ancient dead. At least that was something I could escape and run away from to solve.

"No, nothing like that!" I tried.

Blake stood up sharply, and on reflex so did I. She almost seemed to take that as a threat. This wasn't the first time I felt conscious of our size disparity. Just the first time I, I don't know, felt guilty about it or something.

"Just give me a chance!" I said.

"There's first chances, second chances, third chances, fourth chances, and at this point we're well into the shame on me chances," she hissed. "But you want another chance? Fine. I'll give you one chance to sit there and not follow me. I'm going somewhere else. Bye!"

"Wait, no!" I said as she tried to get past me.

"Bye!"

"Blake!" I said, stepping towards her sharply.

Her hand came towards me a split instant later. But my eyes were already focused on her other arm. I knew this feint. I'd seen it a hundred times before these past several months training and sparring with the girl. Without thinking, just pure rote reaction, I grabbed her by the wrist before she could hit me. Twisting her arm over her neck like a front side headlock, I shoved her against the wall and put my hand on her neck.

This was the part where she was supposed to smile and tell me good job. Where she reluctantly slapped the mat or the wall and called the fight. I'd seen through the feint and broke through her defenses. This move had never won. I didn't think it was supposed to. She was usually just making sure I was still paying attention.

Blake Belladonna choked, sucking in a rasping breath of air as her head slammed against the bookshelf. The rest of her head fast as I pinned her with my body weight, keeping her arm twisted in front of her to immobilize her. The grip on her neck wasn't something that choked someone out. It was hard and rough. The kind of grip that broke bones if you let it get away from you.

She flailed. Her eyes bugged out. She tried to knee me and hit plate armor. Every breath came in sudden and gasping, like an asthmatic breathing through a straw. I didn't even really process what was going on until we were already there, until I was already pinning her against the wall.

My first thought was, I got her! She's not getting away this time!

She tried to cough and it wouldn't slip through my grip. A purple sheen of light coated her body as she tried to wrestle control back of her arm. I felt my own Aura seep through my muscles as I held her there, leveraging size and strength against her. She flickered with a coat of shadows that died just as soon as it appeared—her Semblance, unable to do anything when she couldn't move to utilize it. I knew how she fought; she was the one that trained me how to deal with a fellow Hunter.

I thought it would feel good, seeing the hate leave her eyes. Until I saw what replaced it.

Fear.

She wasn't feeling fear on my behalf. Wasn't afraid of some face-changing monster. Not scared of losing her purpose, and struggling to find something to believe in and fight for. Nor the fear of seeing her past demons come to haunt her in the form of the White Fang. I had seen those on her before. I knew those.

Blake Belladonna was afraid of me.

My second thought was a horrified, What the fuck am I doing?

I… I looked into her eyes and felt everything start to fade. Spots in my vision. My hands were shaking. Don't give me that look, Blake. Don't give me that look. Never give me that look!

For a moment, I held her there as best I could, my grip strength waning. I wanted to talk to her. She couldn't run away. She had to listen. She had to remember. But if right now she did remember, would she still be afraid? Would the Blake who actually knew me feel the same?

It was a sickening sensation.

I gasped, pulling away from her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just—Blake, I'm sorry!"

I expected her to run. Maybe jump up and use her Semblance for a boost to get on top of the bookshelves and make a break for it. All she did was continue to press herself against the wall, bruises on her neck, and breathe heavily. It was almost like she couldn't move. Like she was paralyzed. And that fucking look never left her eyes.

My father had been a wife-beater. Maybe both of them, given just how scared Joan had been. I remembered the first girl who showed interest in me in high school, when I was first really getting into girls. The older I got, the more I became my father, his spitting image, his same sense of humor, even the same military lifestyle. There had been this part of me that worried I'd be the same romantically. As soon as things went wrong, that maybe I'd get violent with the woman I cared about. The apple never falls far from the tree, especially when you grow up in its shadow.

For a moment, I thought Blake might try talking. I knew I couldn't find my tongue. Maybe you should ask me where I got my Aura from. Or ask how I learned to move like I did. Anything to break this terrified silence.

But she never did.

Until her eyes darted to the side. For a moment I hoped things would change. This was a spot of light. Then the fist hit me in the goddamn kidney of all places. With enough force to send me skittering across the ground.

"Okay!" Sun shouted from where I'd been a moment ago, gesturing wildly. "Usually I book it at the sight of crazy ex-boyfriends—super red flag right there. But I was really enjoying my day. So get away from her!"

It seemed to snap Blake out of her stupor. "Sun!"

He held a hand up to her. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me. I've kind of always wanted to get into a fight over a girl, people have just liked me too much. And the girls back at Haven were kind of eh at best. But Vale is freakin' crazy. I figured now is about as good as time is any to either win your heart or throw my life away uselessly."

I was on the floor, blinking slowly. Trying to comprehend what was happening. I put my hands on the ground and pushed. Closing my eyes, I let my Aura flow through me, from the core of my soul through every capillary in my body. It was a relaxing rush, like a long deserved cigarette after a hard day's work. I tried to steady my breath as I stood back up. The pain of the kidney shot was long forgotten.

"Wait, you'd fight for me?" Blake asked, eyes wide. Her hair bow twitched.

Sun shrugged. "Like I said, it's mostly for me. Always wanted to check this off the bucket list."

"I don't want to fight anybody," I said and swallowed. "I just want to talk. I didn't—you just have to believe me. I just want everyone to go away so I can solve this thing. Okay? No violence. Just uncomfortable conversation."

He frowned. "You sound like a serial killer. Anyone ever tell you that? Honestly, Blake, this will be just like those guys who fought for that girl and that book you were telling me about!"

I growled in the back of my throat. "The book is Hearts, Promises, and Other Broken Things by Felicia LeBleu. Please don't ask me why I know that."

The boy looked impressed. "Wow. Your ex boyfriend sounds really clingy."

Blake held up one hand, still looking a mix between shocked and… something I couldn't read. But she wasn't nearly as flustered as I would have expected her to be. "No, he's not—I haven't dated anyone at Beacon."

He flashed her a smile so charming I wanted to smack him. "So you're saying you're single? It's like we have so much in common!"

I saw the change in Blake's eyes. The flicker of something towards Sun that… that made it impossible not to ball my fists, grit my teeth, and push against my Aura for all I was worth. It was like just seeing that look in her eyes towards him just—I didn't have words for it. Was just something primal, almost. I seethed.

Sun made a face. "Hey, I thought you said your partner didn't have an Aura. Also, are we absolutely sure this is the same guy from this morning? Because that guy was kind of lanky and skinny fat. This guy kind of looks like he does one pushup for every dick he sucks."

In and out. Control my breathing. Imitate the footwork and stance like I have been taught. I stepped towards Sun and threw the first punch. "Just fucking go away!"

Sun stepped directly out of my reach, hands behind his back. He smiled. "Too slow!"

I glanced at Blake, who was just watching the entire thing with naked fascination. Sun took the moment to step back within arm's reach and flick me on the nose. His Aura flashed for just the moment our skin made contact. And suddenly I had to brace myself not to get my neck snapped. It didn't hurt; it just made me want to kill him.

I rammed my elbow for his neck. He exhaled a little half laugh through his nose and stepped to the side. His Aura flickered on just fast enough to shove me forwards and away from Blake.

"Is that really all you got, big guy?" he asked. "I see why you were picking on a girl half your size. I'm not even armed and you are. Sad!"

Sun stepped around me again, and a part of me belatedly realized he was trying to herd me away from Blake.

And honestly, what was I even trying to accomplish? Just throw the occasional punch. Adopt some kind of fake fighting stance and pretend like I know what I was doing? No. I knew how Blake fought because I trained with her. I knew nearly everything she could do, and knew that I couldn't beat her at her own game. But what I could do with someone faster and more agile was get close to them and show them exactly why they shouldn't skip arm day.

"You're right," I said. With a flick of the wrist I grabbed XO and threw it across the floor. "But fighting fair is for bitches."

I made it too obvious. I feinted with my left. He stepped into it, away from the hook. I let my Crocea Mors slip from its sheath and hit him square in the jaw. He barely got his Aura up in time. I stepped to grab him, and he leaned back. I almost missed the way he kicked for my balls to get his flip on. But there were benefits to wearing nearly thirty pounds of steel and kevlar armor.

His one foot touched the ground. I flexed my hand. And XO hit him from behind on the ankle. His monkey tail flailed weirdly as he fell onto his back. And then I lunged on top of him.

Leverage proximity. Leverage raw strength over any kind of art or form. Roll with the punches.

Sun grunted, a sound like he barely avoided vomiting. His Aura flashed as he threw a punch towards me. I tanked it on the chin just so I could pin his wrist to the floor. His tail grabbed the straps of my armor and pulled. I tried leaning towards it for some reason, unsure how to really handle a third appendage, and he used the momentum to roll me onto my back. I didn't let go of his wrist and pulled him down into a hug. One more push and a painful bump into the table later and I had him under me, pinning both of his wrists and trying to figure out what to do now.

Punch him, probably. I let go of him just so I could hit him in the face with a full force of my Aura. Huntsmen could hit, and then they could hit. I'd seen girls who had to be physically weaker than me lift and throw cars. Earlier today I'd cut through a tree with my shield. I hit him hard enough that it made a sound and broke the wooden tile when his head slammed into it. His Aura flashed again, absorbing the head and concussion. And then he grabbed for my face.

I bit the fucker's fingers. He screamed, his Aura on full display, not flickering, but holding. I twisted and pinned the bitten hand between my neck and shoulder. And then just kept punching. And punching. And punching. Straight downward into his face. Digging a hole to the flooring with his skull.

It turned out he didn't have that kind of Aura. And keeping it on just to keep his hand in one piece burned it away.

I didn't realize until something cracked under my glove and the blood sprayed across my face.

I thought I had just stopped seeing metaphorical red and was seeing it for real. And then I tasted salty flesh and coppery blood in my mouth. Human bone crunched under my teeth, leaking out with the gore. His hand dropped away, and I nearly swallowed the lumps of meat before gagging them onto his face in a bloody slurry of skin and fingernails.

"Sun!" Blake screamed, tackling me. His name, not mine.

I didn't resist. I let my Aura drop as she shoved me away with a frantic energy that gave me secondhand panic. I just kind of sat there, staring at the broken mess of Sun's face and fingers.

I… I wanted to make some kind of observation. Some point about fighting styles. A street brawler had beaten the artful dodger or something. But all I could do was just stare with morbid fascination as she ripped off her hair bow without a second thought and used it to tourniquet his hand. Her cat ears stood erect.

My hands were covered in blood. It dribbled from my lips onto my chest. No matter how much I spat, I couldn't get the taste of Sun from my mouth.

With a gasp, Blake turned back to face me as I was reaching out for her. Eyes wet and red, she pulled up her Aura and grabbed Sun. "Get away from him. Get away from me, you monster!"

I didn't move. "Blake."

"Leave me alone! Why—" She choked on a sob. "Why can't you ever just leave me alone? Why can't anyone leave me alone?"

"I need you to remember," I said, but even as the words tumbled from my bloody mouth, they felt hollow. They felt empty. "You gave me this Aura. From shadows, remember? When you told me you were faunus."

"You stole my bow and tried to tell everyone on the team I was faunus, you prick!" she screamed. "I don't care that you're my partner, you can't—you can't—" She broke out in another choke, trying to keep herself between me and Sun.

Sun reached up to her and grabbed her hand. With his fingers severed, he missed her completely. His face was less a skull, more a bowl.

"Blake," I begged.

"Leave me alone for once in your freakin' life, Jaune!" she screamed. "Just stop. Stop for once. Stop, stop, please oh my god, Jaune, stop!"

I wanted her to remember like Weiss had. But what if she did remember? What if all her memories came back if I pushed hard enough. If she remembered talking to me about lost loves, dad jokes, falling asleep with her head on my chest, and acting weird as hell trying to patch up my burns, and this was when she did it. And she couldn't tell the difference between her partner and the boy who beat her new boyfriend nearly to death. I felt another surge of anger at Sun, and it vanished in a quagmire of shame and disgust. I'd avoided getting involved with Sun and Penny months ago just to prevent the complications they'd bring to my life. Keep my circle of friends narrow and contained and uncomplicated. I knew them enough to know…

RWBY.

Jaune Arc. The bastard who didn't even consider Blake a person, just some girl from some show he didn't even like. Who just wanted to drink himself into a depressed stupor every day to ignore reality. Who didn't care about anyone but himself.

Who enjoyed being hated and hurting the people I loved.

That wasn't me, but it had been once upon a time. I wouldn't ever be him again. But what the hell was I doing here and now if not that?

I grabbed my head and stood up. Blake kept trying to drag Sun, protect him.

"I…" I couldn't even get the apology out. It'd be worthless. Useless. Pathetic. Insert synonyms as you pleased to complete the list.

One last look at my bloody hands.

I turned around and ran.

— 8 —

What was I even doing?

I found an empty room in the student center's third floor and finally collapsed. People saw me running around, covered in blood. But it didn't matter. I hadn't slept right in days. I was running on anger and adrenaline and desperation. I wanted to reflect on this. Have one of my usual moments of introspection where I figured shit out.

But I was just so tired. I just sat there in the corner of the dark room, alone, unable to get the taste of fingers out of my mouth. Weiss thought I was something else. Blake thought I was a monster. A boy I really had no issues with had a bowl for a face. I hadn't accomplished anything but ruining everything.

Maybe there wasn't another Jaune. Maybe I was the one who was going crazy, not this world.

What did I want?

Did I die? Did something else happen? Shunted into an alternative timeline, another world. Isekai'd within the isekai. Isekai-yay, motherfucker. I didn't know. I didn't have any answers. All I'd succeed in doing was hurting people. My first real Huntsman fight outside of sparring with my team, and instead of a masterful spectacle of flips and dancing, it'd been a street brawl where I'd bit a man's fingers off.

I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to get my breathing and thoughts under control.

Eventually, I think I fell asleep. In a bloody, sweaty ball of limbs and armor in the corner. But I did sleep.

Someone turned the lights on. I gasped, reaching for both the gun at my hip and the sword on my arm. The confused motion just had me flail in place as I tried to find who flicked the lightswitch.

"Found you," he said.

I tried to stand, and my legs gave way beneath me. I hit the floor and looked up. Shamrock was standing there, the door closed behind me. His organic-looking halberd was in his hands. He spun the revolver chamber in its handle as he leaned on his weapon like a cane.

I didn't get up. "Are you out for vengeance?" I asked. "Let me guess, I don't know your name, I continue never to think of you, and you're pissed I keep pretending you're a background shadow person who doesn't matter."

He adjusted his red suit collar, and made a left-handed gesture my way. "You could say that."

"Just fucking do it," I said. "I don't, I don't care anymore. I don't care about anything."

"You seemed to care when you bit Sun's fingers off."

I sat up slowly, everything aching. "Blake told you?"

He shook his head. "Been following you."

"Why?"

He cocked a brow. "Curiosity. I went to go find Weiss to ask for help on homework, and found her babbling with a nasty migraine in the CCTS tower. Mentioned you actually said her name. Carried her back to the room, but she was afraid you'd be there. Left her on the couch in the commons. Met Ruby who said she found you crying and offering to pay her back for ruining the microwave. Followed after to the creepy girl in the student center who said you were looking for Blake. Figured I'd find her in the library, and that's when I saw it."

I looked at the floor. "Yeah."

"You said her name. You said everyone's name. And then you have this freaky, trippy Aura," he said, frowning. "None of this adds up. You call yourself Jaune, but I know Jaune. Narcissistic piece of shit who doesn't take anything seriously or personally. Lost in his own little world where he thinks he's the main character of life and the funniest boy in the world."

"Guilty as charged," I croaked.

"No," he said, picking up his halberd and walking towards me. "You look like him, but you're all wrong. Like some overly nostalgic memory of Beacon's resident fuckup brought to life. I don't know you." He swung the halberd my way, until the tip was too my nose.

"We've never known each other," I said, staring down the blade. I couldn't find the energy to get angry or scared. "You don't talk much. Sometimes talk about the parables of your adopted religion. Making hand signs about it with Weiss. Last time we talked, you were horrified. Asked me if I really did sleep with an 'elder thing.' Do you remember that? Does anyone remember anything?"

Shamrock stared me down for a very long moment. His green eyes were hard. "I don't know."

"What do you know?"

"I know you're Jaune, but you're not our Jaune," he said dangerously. "I want answers."