Chapter 2: The Judgement

Beta: ZH_Steven

Peach helped him stand—almost hoisted him up; she was so strong—and the whole time Jaune stared at her. At her clothes, at the scalpel, at the world that she'd unironically described as, "Your heart?"

"Sounds strange, I know." Understatement of the millennium. "But it's true. Everything you see around you, from the land to the sky, the buildings to the beasts, is a world born from deep within my conscience. I guess the question then is if this world is fake or a dream—I wouldn't blame you for thinking so—but no, it's as real as our own world." She nudged her head to the left. "Come, have a walk with me, nephew."

There was no door or stairs where she was pointing, just the edge of the building. "Where do we get down?"

Imagine his ever-inflating shock, when she not only sprinted in heels, but did so faster than his eye could track. Clack, clack, clack. Faster than a millisecond. One moment she's on the roof… then next she's a shadow enveloped by the pulsing blue moon. She'd springboarded so high into the air that she reminded him of a bird. With a flourish and spin, she dived down and vanished past the edge of the building, and he just barely caught her wink at him.

Jaune panicked and scrambled over, didn't know why he was relieved to find that she was still alive if she could jump that high in the first place. She waited at the bottom, leaning against a lamppost, with no indication that anything was broken. "Hurry, we don't have all night. Time passes the same here!"

"You want me to jump!?" Jaune yelled.

"I mean, I could conjure you up a ladder. But that wouldn't teach you anything, would it? Take a leap of faith, Jaune."

Back home they called jumping off rooftops suicide, and you'd best believe people didn't do that out of faith. Jaune looked at the drop, completely unsure how many feet it was. Only that he'd likely pop like a jelly-filled balloon once he hit the bottom. All he could think about in the moment was those abstract splatter paint portraits he'd seen in museums. Still, what other choice did he have?

Jaune backed up, swallowed, hoped for the best, then sprinted. He liked to think it was his survival instincts and not cowardice that made him stop right before the edge, and felt like a kid learning how to swim for the first time. Back at the starting point, he slapped his cheeks, then sprinted again, this time getting to the edge but forgetting to jump. Kinda anti-climatic, bowling right off the edge with about as much grace as a landed fish. He barely got out a scream before he landed on something soft.

Did he say soft? Unless he was mistaken, cobblestone was the furthest thing from it.

Strange feeling, the sudden drop to an even more sudden stop. This was probably what death felt like—landing flat on your face, asking God why. He asked himself if he'd really landed on the pavement, but as he lifted his head to stare at the road, it couldn't be denied. There, by that lamppost, his sweet and loving aunt was giggling into her hand.

"I thought you were going to catch me or something!" Jaune hopped to his feet.

"You wouldn't learn anything then," She pointed at him with her scalpel. "How do you feel?"

How did he feel? Furious, scared, ready to scream at her. Most importantly he felt… painless? Jaune touched his chest—no jelly. In fact, the most damage done to him was dirt and pebbles getting on his shirt. No broken leg, no broken face beyond the pre-established black eye. Jaune gaped up at the building. A black tower stabbing into the rosy sky bed. How in the world had he survived?

"That's your first lesson," Jaune almost flinched when Peach seized his hand with that same disturbingly powerful grip and swiped her blade across his palm. He might have flinched, but he barely felt it. Felt like a prick really, even though dark blood was pooling in his hand. "In this world, you're stronger, faster, more durable. To varying degrees per person, but nonetheless, everyone who enters a heart effectively becomes superhuman. Same with healing, your body will heal at a faster rate than normal. Which is good, because the injuries you sustain here also carry over into the human world."

Superhuman? Him? Jaune never would have thought those words could exist together, and yet how could he call his aunt a liar? He stared at his hand, turned it over, watched the blood drop, still very little pain. He saw that she was starting to head down the black road, the tails of her coat flapping, and Jaune made sure to keep up with her.

"My job requires me to have the capacity, the patience, to listen to others and try to understand them. It's impossible, of course. It'd take a longer lifetime than any human has ever had just to understand one person completely. It's an ordeal through normal means," She looked at him, and Jaune noticed a glow in her eyes. "But the worlds inside a person's heart are different. They're gateways to the core of human nature, and as such, can't lie or hide the truth. I can explore that core, Jaune. I can find the darkness buried deep inside… rescue people from it. This, Jaune, is how you truly help people."

"What do you mean rescue them?" Jaune asked. A spider crawled up his spine as a howl rang through the air. Same ones as before. Only they were much closer.

A bulky shadow leaped across the rooftops. And it wasn't alone. Five, no, six more were tailing it, and in seconds, they'd all descended on them. Surrounded them.

They looked like werewolves, bipedal and gigantic, towering right over him. Cracked white masks hid their faces, but did not obscure the long snouts and sharp teeth, lolling tongues oozing with growling hunger. Their arms were thick with hair and muscle, packed with strength, long white claws with enough scratches to promise they'd seen action before. Their eyes were red streetlights in the dead of night. Demonic, commanding of attention, of respect… of fear. Just one was impossible to comprehend. But six? His aunt only had that little scalpel.

"They're called Grimm. This particular type is called a Beowolf, and they prey on the souls of those afflicted by pain and trauma," Peach explained so nonchalantly that Jaune had to wonder if she saw the bunnies instead of hulking monsters. "In a way, you could say they are our negative emotions, mutated into monsters. Fear, anxiety, rage, depression, apathy—all our dark emotions give birth to these things and they exist in us all."

If anxiety was what they represented then Jaune had a feeling there were thousands tormenting his heart right now. Went without saying that he wasn't fond of knowing that. "Why aren't they attacking us?"

She waved her hand airily. "My heart is stable, so I have full control of what goes on here."

"Stable?"

"Think of it like that feeling when your life is content—you have no immediate pressing concerns or stresses. We want that security, we want satisfaction, control, and love. It's when these needs aren't met that conflict arises within us, and that is when the Grimm start to appear. And for some people, especially those your age, they have trouble processing their feelings. It can lead to self-destructive behaviors, loss of confidence, unhappiness." She gestured to the Beowolves, "And these beasts thrive on that."

A big dark pool began to ooze out from the monsters' feet, spread like an infection, circled Jaune and his aunt like a pack of wolves. If his aunt had full control, then was she causing this?

Something about it, the unquestionable void of it, made his breathing pick up, made him sweat ice, made the world feel like it was shrinking in on him as the darkness got closer and closer. He was a child, clutching his aunt like he was. All the while, she was sturdy as a new statue. Completely unbothered, like she'd seen the horror before and grown numb to it.

"It's easy to internalize that pain, to never open up and never tell someone why you're hurting…" she said. She stepped away from him, turned to face him, and spread her arms out wide. Jaune nearly jumped when the Beowolves began to howl and the crawling darkness started to come alive around them, tendrils lashing, bubbles popping. "That's what leads to this. A person who cannot confront their trauma and instead submits to it will be consumed by the despair of their own heart, by the Grimm, and they will sink into a darkness that even the best help cannot save them from."

Jaune gulped hard enough that it hurt. "Do they… die?"

"If only it was that merciful. Most victims end up worse off. Some commit suicide or get sent to psych wards… some even end up as criminals," Her face hardened. "God said: Pity on you, the living, for you may never know peace like the dead."

Something snatched his foot, and Jaune bolted to his aunt's side. A black hand had emerged from the darkness, now slinking back, but Jaune didn't doubt there would be more. A powerful, hissing din came as the darkness drew closer, even bubbles bursting with fury like the fires of hell were just underneath. But just before it could get any closer, it retreated. Shot back like his aunt's presence rejected it, vanished into the dark alleys where Jaune was sure they waited for their next chance to get him.

"But we can help them, Jaune. We can help anyone with this power." There was the clack of a heel.

The first Grimm jumped at them, Jaune raising his arms in a panic, feeling the cold shadow of the monster overtaking him. He waited for its giant maw to close around him… but it never came. Why would it, when the top half of the Beowolf was sailing over his head?

His aunt stood where that Grimm had been, its bottom half kicking and squirming at her feet. Her scalpel spun again. "Crush the Grimm," she intoned, a savage edge to her voice. That was when the next one leaped at her.

She took one step. One smooth, effortless step to the right so the Grimm's giant claws murdered nothing but air. The Grimm tried to catch her on the backswing, but she swiped her scalpel so fast that it drew a white flash across the Grimm's arm. An arm that hit the ground a second later. Then its jaw. A heel to the chest sent the creature exploding through a wall, while its disembodied parts emitted black smoke as they began to fade away. "Find the source of the victim's pain and defeat it." She didn't give the third a chance, immediately closed the distance, and hacked off both arms. "This is how you save a heart from falling into despair."

Jaune fell onto his ass. He was imagining things. He had to be. His lame old aunt had become a talented acrobat and a vicious warrior both. She spun on her toe, brought the other leg around to strike the next Beowolf in the chest, overpowered it, floored it, then forced her heel through its chest. She jerked her foot back out in a spurt of black smoke, ducked under the next one's swipe, then shot something out of her free hand's sleeve. Thin and glinting in the light—a wire? The airborne Grimm howled as it stabbed through, yanked it back, and it let out a whimper as it crashed into the cobbles. The final Beowolf was already on Peach, slashing, roaring, snapping its jaws. Endlessly calm, she ducked and spun and weaved and did every unquestionably amazing action that all but spat the words, "Yes, I am indeed a badass."

Was this really his aunt? The one who said the word 'Chilling' seriously? Impossible. And yet here she was, being completely and totally awesome right before his eyes.

She brought her hand up almost boredly, the white flash shearing the last Beowolf from crotch to the head, then she gently pushed both halves aside as she stepped through and toward him as if all she'd done was little more than a warm-up. "I can teach you how. I can help you awaken your powers and show you how to use them to help those in need. Just like I do. Violence in the real world does nothing but make you enemies—that is why we must do war with people's hearts instead."

"Why me?" he choked out.

"To help a person, you have to learn about them, spend time with them in order to get a better understanding of their struggles. As I said, children are the most susceptible to despair, but it'd be suspicious for me, an adult, to be around children regularly unless they come to me for help." She gave him a look, "And you know that those your age aren't as willing to come for help as they should be."

Jaune rubbed the back of his head. What was the point in denying it?

"That's why I'm asking you. There are hundreds of students going through things they need help with. If you want to make a difference, if it really does hurt you to see others in pain, then help them to overcome it. Help them to heal… and maybe you'll even learn how to help yourself in the process."

This was all just too much. Grimm? Despair? Saving people's hearts? He was one guy. How could he help that many people? He was just some normal guy, some outcast loser that no one would want to associate with. Let alone befriend.

He didn't want nor need friends either. Like Peach said before, other people's problems weren't his own. But now she wanted him to take on the responsibility of making people's problems his own?

"All you need to do is tell me, Jaune." His aunt came up to him, pointed at his heart. "I knew since I heard about that fight that you have the power to do something better than just fight off bullies. You can change them. Help them become better, happier people. If you had the power to heal a person's pain, wouldn't you do it? Wouldn't anyone?"

Jaune liked to think so. But it all seemed like too much for him. "I'm just a high school kid. What can I do?"

Peach put a hand to his heart now and Jaune felt something warm swell up in his chest. "More than you realize. It's a rare person that feels for others so unashamedly. You have that. And believe me when I say that's empathy is the most important thing a human being could have. What do you say, nephew? You and me. We can truly help people if that's what you want."

All he wanted was… well, Jaune wasn't even sure what he wanted. Truth was, he was just scared. Of the monsters and this world, all of which he wasn't convinced was real, but also of what it'd cost him. It was easier to stop a thief or fight off a bully, but this was something else entirely. To truly help someone in the way they needed, he needed to get close to them, he needed to feel for them, and he needed to fight to save them not from someone else, but from themselves. He could even do that for himself.

This was beyond him.

"There's nothing I can do to help."

What was worse than disappointing a loved one? Not much, Jaune supposed. His heart cracked as the hope in his aunt's face washed away, like he'd hurt her far worse in that moment than he likely ever would. "That's what we all say, Jaune. That's the lie we all tell ourselves, to justify why we stand idle, tell ourselves that it's not our problem. When really, all we need is a little thing called courage."

Weightlessness. He was falling again. The thousands of glass shards, the twisting darkness, light. Then, cold pizza.

He landed in his chair, but ended up taking it down with him as he fell to the floor. Jaune cringed at an angry sting in his palm—the cut. Hurt way more now than before. He heard footsteps and looked up, saw his aunt looking down on him, twisting her watch. She smiled at him, and for reasons Jaune didn't want to admit, that smile failed to reach her eyes. "Come on, I'll clean up that hand for you."

That was it? She wouldn't mention it? Jaune got to his feet. "But, what about—"

"I'd appreciate it if you kept this stuff to yourself." Peach said, "There are others that know about it, but it's not even close to public knowledge. I don't think I need to explain that it'd be bad if too many people found out?"

Jaune didn't even want to consider that thought at the moment. Hell, the fact that she'd admitted that others knew about it was concerning enough. That right now, people were diving into people's hearts, fighting monsters, trying to save lives. "None of this seems real."

"In your case, it might be best to treat it that way when you wake up tomorrow."

Jaune nodded slowly. "I'll… clean my hand myself."

It was probably the fastest he'd gotten back to his room. He didn't feel any more secure with the door closed, nor when he was in the bathroom, washing the blood off his hands and seething at the pain. Wasn't a deep cut at all, it'd heal in a few days. Physical pain was easy to ignore. But his aunt's disappointment, the realization that she'd expected better from him. That was like swallowing a handful of nails.

It was her fault for putting those invisible expectations on him though, right? He couldn't help people. He'd fail, more than likely. Besides, Peach had clearly been doing this for a while and was good at it, and there were other people doing the same. Why put his own hand in that cookie jar?

But why would his aunt be reaching out to him then? Surely, if someone was helping the students, she'd know about it. Did that mean there was no one to help? That she was at this all alone?

Jaune sat on the toilet seat and stared at the tiled floor. He had felt something down there in that world, a type of surging energy in his chest.

Something fighting to be free.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. And Jaune wondered—and hoped—that this would not become a regular thing.

This was why he belonged at home with his sisters and father. Ever get in an argument with one? You've got seven more to be around until things blew over. Maybe that wasn't an ideal way of hashing out a problem, but it worked more often than not. The whole blood was thicker shtick.

With Aunt Peach, blood aside, they were the only ones in this house. All the space to get away, all the more suffocating when he came across her. If Peach was still bothered by what happened last night, she did a damn good job not showing it.

"Morning, baby." She greeted with a yawn as he came upstairs, ready and dressed for his oh so exciting second day of school. No mention of the other world, or the Grimm, or the fact that she'd bodied a pack of giant monsters with all the finesse of a video game protagonist. Happened all the time for her, no doubt.

He even began to think that all of it was just a dream, and as if that other world could hear him, the cut in his palm would ache. The burn in his chest would come thumping like a fist on a door. Definitely not a dream.

"Aunt Peach?" he asked.

"Hm? What is it?" She asked, starting herself some coffee.

Sorry for being a disappointment. Sorry for causing you trouble. Sorry for existing. Jaune could roll that die and any response might work. But he decided not to roll it at all. Cowardice, in the end. It was easier. "I'll just… go to school early."

"But you didn't eat yet."

"I'll get something from the cafeteria," Jaune slung on his bag and headed out the door. "See you later."

"Alright, I love—"

But he'd already closed the door behind him.

On day one, Jaune had hoped school would end quickly. Day two, he was hoping school would last forever. Funny how things changed. Fortunately for him, Mister Port was his guardian angel, descended on the world to make his wish come true. But my god, did it have to involve so much talking?

Even worse, it was a poor distraction from his thoughts. What was economics or math compared to the existential threat that monsters were real? Was there Grimm that looked like the boogeyman? What did the boogeyman even look like? What idiot had decided to name a monster something as stupid as the boogeyman? Jaune was plagued with these questions and more as the day plodded away like a snail up a downhill flow of molasses.

Did his dad know about this? Maybe that's why he'd been sent here. Maybe when he'd been born, they'd sensed some kind of hidden potential, a blooming prophecy. Maybe God himself had come down and been like, "Your son? He's like, the chosen one or something." Then they'd perfectly, painstakingly crafted his entire life to mold him into the savior of hearts that he was always destined to be. Jaune imagined Peach and his father talking about it now: What do you mean he said no?

He doubted it, and yet it seemed entirely possible after all he'd learned. Would his dad even tell him if he called? Hey dad, things with aunt Peach are going well. Got into a fight on my first day. Also, demons are real and saving people's hearts. Care to elaborate more on that?

"Got that crazy look."

"I know, right?"

Jaune told himself not to look, but couldn't resist. The guys sitting a row away were whispering over their desks. One with a mohawk and another with narrow eyes, whispering, while not too subtly pointing at him. "Bit him you know. Cardin's got a mark on his arm."

"Huh? Quit playing."

"I'm serious, man!"

It's already getting around? Jaune might have thought it was just a one-off. Two guys with nothing better to talk about. Then he remembered he was in high school—your business was everyone's once it got out.

To the left, a girl was grinning behind her hands as her friend whispered something to her. Might have seemed innocuous if the way their eyes flicked over to him wasn't a clear indication of the opposite. Were people's lives that empty that gossiping about him was all they wanted to do?

He might have gone back to his own business, but the third girl in the group kept his attention. Brick red hair, long and loose around her shoulders, frazzled like she barely combed it, on the lighter side of tan skin. Is it that hot this far north? I'm a freaking ghost compared to everyone here. He noticed that she played with a rubber band on her wrist. Wound it then unwound it, wound then unwound. Snap. Rubber struck skin when she pulled it back like a slingshot, then let go, not even flinching at the pain.

She was staring ahead, and Jaune followed it to find that she was watching someone. Two people, actually. A handsome looking boy and a girl with styled violet hair. They whispered to each other, and by how close they sat together, Jaune didn't think they were exchanging quiz answers.

Jaune rolled his eyes and turned away. Not his problem. And the answer was even more obvious: move on. He'd had crushes before, been rejected before, and they sucked without a doubt, but he always got better in the end. Learned pretty quickly that heartbreak could be avoided if you simply never acted on them and pretended they weren't there until you convinced yourself it was true. Flawless. As for that girl, she'd find out that there was someone out there for her. She'd be okay.

"Yes, Miss Ember?" Port said.

The rubber band girl had raised her hand. "Can I get the bathroom pass?"

"Oh certainly, certainly!" Port pulled two small wooden passes from his desk and left them on top. "Now where was I? Ah yes, my career as a high profile spy. It was taco Tuesday and my yoga instructor told me—"

Ember was scooting out of her seat, seemingly in a hurry. She came through the row, doing her best to ignore the boy and girl talking, close enough even to kiss now. Jaune wouldn't be surprised if they were sneaking some when people weren't looking.

Ember yelped as she tripped over someone's leg, fell to her hands and knees. Something came skirting out of her breast pocket. Small and black. A lighter? No. There was a hint of silver on the edge.

She snatched it up quickly. Too quickly. Jaune had no clue if anyone had seen it—Mister Port certainly hadn't. But no one had so much as looked her way, too caught up in conversations with their own groups to pay Ember any mind. She hurried on out, snatching the first bathroom pass, doors closing silently behind her.

Jaune replayed it in his head. Could see her vanishing out that door again. Wondered if he'd seen her lips tremble or he was just imagining things. It sucked, be it a breakup or unrequited love, but she'd find another guy one day. She'd be okay. It wasn't his problem. Not his problem at all.

"Yes, Mister Arc?" Mister Port responded to his raised hand.

I'm an idiot…

It's not stalking, Jaune told himself, but it was and he knew it.

The audacity of him, diving from hall to hall, waiting for Ember to round a corner before hauling ass behind her, resisting the urge to hum the adventurous samba of spy music. Went without saying that getting caught might be the worst thing to have to explain. I was concerned for her safety, sir. Jaune could feel the handcuffs, hear the prison cell door closing behind him. You're cute, his cellmate Bubbles would say.

Jaune didn't slow down though, keeping up with her and praying no one walked by. Took some maneuvering, especially when Goodwitch was about to round the corner and he ducked into a conveniently empty classroom. He found another door on the other side of the class, saw brick hair pass by it, and snuck out that way.

Pretty far for a bathroom break, Jaune frowned. They'd passed a few at this point, and Ember hadn't so much as looked at it. Somewhere familiar then. She'd done this before.

And as Jaune rounded the umpteenth hallway, he caught her disappearing into a bathroom at the end of a dead hallway. Good, now that she was in there, he could… wait, now what? Why hadn't he thought of this? He followed her all this way just to get nowhere. Well, it could be an emergency. Ember would understand, right? Oh Jaune, thank you for saving me from the error of my ways. You're definitely not a creep for following me into the ladies' room.

There were some places men just didn't go. You could sneak past a country border, hack the Hexagon, storm Area Fifty-Nine. But you didn't infiltrate the girls' bathroom, that had to be a law or something!

God damn it. He could only imagine what she'd do with that razor. He prayed something small. But what if today was the day she took it too far? What if this was the bathroom break she didn't come back from?

He had to think of something, anything to keep her from making a mistake like that. Scream for help? No time to check if anyone was even here, not to mention it'd bring the hammer down on Ember hard. Tell a teacher? They couldn't do much, not in time anyway. He had to do something now.

Then he saw it. The fire alarm.

Never in Jaune's life did he think he'd be the one, and yet, here he was.

He yanked it down before he could stop himself. Then ducked into another conveniently empty classroom across the hall.

Octavia emerged from the bathroom almost right away, teary-eyed but very much alive. She rolled down one of her sleeves—the scars were there, but from what he could see, there were no new additions. Already classes were beginning to file out down the hallway, and Jaune made ready to slip out. Then his eye caught something.

Two redheads in a day. There had to be a joke in there somewhere. This one was a scarlet shade, smooth and shiny, and she was sitting on the floor with her back pressed against the wall. There were emeralds in her eye sockets and no mistake. Burning bright, pricelessly beautiful, dark lashes almost teasing him with every blink. Cream skin, a touch of beet on her cheeks, and the light struck her collarbone just right. He'd be a damn criminal to not have looked for just a second, even if he severely regretted it.

What was she thinking right now? Fire alarm goes off and a boy comes rushing into a classroom where I've been skipping class? She didn't look nearly dumb to not put the pieces together. He was already a stalker, kidnapping was just a step up. Jaune shook that thought off. "Uh…"

"I won't tell anyone," She said in a mature and soft voice. It made him tingle and he didn't like it. What choice did he have but to take her word for it?

"We should get out there," The girl said, pushing up onto her long legs. Athletic. Very much so.

"Uh, yeah." Jaune let her out first, making sure not to watch her hips sway as they slipped into the traffic flowing down the hallway.

Damn it, he looked.

There were plenty of fire drills in his old school, but Jaune didn't often find them good for self-reflection. But then, there were a lot of things he was doing lately that he never thought he would.

Not even a week living with his aunt and he'd gotten in a fight, stalked someone, pulled a fire alarm, and was at the mercy of a girl that could completely and utterly destroy him. You'd think after finding out monsters existed that the real world would become trite, inconsequential. But no, real life was still a thoroughly, excitingly fucked experience.

The whole school had been evacuated, while cops had shown up and we're checking out the school. Damn it, why didn't he pull down the fire alarm with his sleeve? Wouldn't they be looking for fingerprints or something? Jaune could feel the cuffs. Wanna cuddle, asked Bubbles. Teachers called out the names of their lined up students, trying to be as organized as possible but failing miserably against many students forgoing protocol to talk to their friends. Jaune included, except Ember and the pretty girl were nowhere to be seen and he had no friends. Gods, I sound pathetic…

"Octavia Ember?" Port called.

Jaune perked up, followed the class's gaze as they turned to the end of the line. Octavia raised her hand, but stared at the ground, standing with the girls she'd sat with. She looked okay though, and Jaune let go of the breath he'd been holding.

But why have relief, remember the very real possibility of blackmail? Mm, your pockets are looking mighty thick, the pretty girl would say. Really, your aunt gave you five hundred lien? How sweet. I bet that'd fit nice and snug in my purse, don't you think?

But no matter where he looked, he couldn't find her. Maybe he'd made her up? Possible. Girls that pretty just didn't exist. Unless they were aliens or something.

"The hell was I thinking?" Jaune muttered. None of this would have happened if he'd minded his own business. And Peach wanted him to interfere with other people's lives like this? He'd end up a criminal. Or worse. It wasn't worth it.

"Hey, Jaune!" Sun called, waving from a group over. Jaune cautiously made his way to him, saw that he was in his gym clothes, the pits and collar damp with sweat. "Crazy, huh? Think someone started a fire somewhere?"

"Maybe," Jaune put his hands in his pockets so Sun couldn't see them shaking. He kept his eye out for the pretty girl just in case, only to notice that Sun was blue head short. "Where's Neptune? Aren't you two joined at the hip?"

Sun laughed. Jaune didn't think it was that funny. "To everyone's shock, no. He's in another class," Sun looked up at the school. "Wonder if Merc did this."

No point in resisting his curiosity now. "Merc?"

"Mercury Black?" Sun repeated, waiting on Jaune for some reason. "Oh, I forgot you're new. He used to be a student here—actually, I think he still is, he just doesn't show up sometimes. Or most of the time."

"Why would he do this?"

"Hate for the school maybe. He used to be in the martial arts club like me," Sun put his hands on his hips and shook his head like the memory was a weight on his mind. "He was… insanely good. Totals everyone he goes against, even Yang and me. Maybe he was too good. Let it get to head.

"He won a lot of the competitions for the school. Used to be everyone's favorite. You could count on him to come in clutch, even against older competitors." There was the faintest trace of a smile, but not a happy one. "Then… he got arrested for beating a guy up at a bar. Bad enough that the guy was hospitalized. It was on the news and everything. I think the guy is paralyzed now." Sun sighed, "and it didn't stop there either. Beat up some kids who had beef with him, then this other guy who dated his ex. Least that's what I've heard."

An animal in human skin, Jaune already didn't like him. "I get it, he's trouble. But you said he's still in school? He should be expelled." Or in jail.

Sun shook his head grimly. "The teachers had a big meeting last year discussing what to do with him. In the end, they suspended him for a while, but that's it. He can come back to school any time. He just hasn't. Seriously, he's bad news. Everyone was scared of him, even Cardin."

Why would the school not expel what was effectively a terror to the students? Jaune had seen kids get expelled for much less. Why keep Mercury? "I'm gonna assume he's doing better things than pulling fire alarms." What does that say about how I spend my spare time? How long before I'm setting things on fire?

"Hey, I wanted to say thanks. For yesterday."

Jaune snapped back to face Sun. "Huh?"

"Maybe he's not as bad as Merc, but Cardin can be a pain sometimes. I could take him," Sun shrugged his hands, "but what's beating people up ever solved, you know?"

Jaune didn't have an answer for that, just looked away. "I didn't do it for you. I just didn't like him."

"Still, thanks. Really," Sun held up a fist. Jaune looked at it for a moment. Screw it, what do I have to lose? And bumped him back. Did he have to look so happy? You'd think he'd just made his week. Jaune's chest felt warm and he didn't like it.

Violence wouldn't solve anything. Much like how pulling a fire alarm wouldn't stop Octavia from hurting herself. He looked at her now and she didn't look any less miserable than before. Back to watching that boy and girl flirting like nothing had changed.

It was only now that Jaune realized she'd just hurt herself at home, possibly do worse, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"If you had the power to heal a person's pain, wouldn't you do it?"

What was he supposed to do? Nothing. Today proved he was powerless to do anything. Proved it.

Right?

Life had a number of ways of being ironic, like when you pull a false fire alarm at school only to come home to a burning house. Maybe that was a bit hyperbolic—it was only the stove that was on fire, gray smoke filling up the house, and his Peach made her dramatization soap opera worthy as she shrieked, trying to slap the fire away with a towel.

Making haste, Jaune got another towel, wet it, and threw it over the burner. It hissed back, but the beast was quelled. While Aunt Peach, the real slayer of beasts, dropped into her chair as she'd just gotten through the toughest battle in her life.

"What happened?" Jaune asked.

"I tried making dinner," There was nothing but sadness in her eyes, so much so that Jaune stifled the laugh that wanted to come up. "I was gonna make beef stroganoff."

He loved beef stroganoff, so there was something to be excited about. Jaune glanced at the materials on the counter. Ground turkey instead of beef. No worcestershire. Burned the garlic butter to hell and back. Onions were sloppily cut. Aunt Peach wiped her forehead, and her fingers had a few bandages on them. Bandages that weren't there yesterday.

"Happens every time I try, I just f… mess it all up," She leaned back in her seat, Jaune could almost see the dark clouds over her head. "Anyway, how was school?"

Jaune pulled up a seat. "Someone pulled the fire alarm."

She laughed. "That's ironic."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence together, watching the burner steadily return to normal. He remembered screwing up meals, learning how to cut veggies for the first time. Jaune, women love men that can cook, his dad said. And Jaune remembered asking why he was supposed to care, while his dad gave him that wise, knowing look and said he'd find out when he was older. Jaune let himself smile a little.

"Is it possible to dive into my own heart?" he asked, now curious.

Peach gave a slow nod. "Yes, but it's not a good idea when you're…"

"What?"

She sighed. "When you're in the position you're in, Jaune."

Not really a good line between saying it and not. He just sighed and clasped his hands together, trying to muster up what courage he could find amidst the parts of him that wanted to walk away. Hole up in his room. "I tried to stop a girl from hurting herself today."

Peach's eyes widened. "What happened?"

"I stopped her," Jaune shrugged. "But she's just gonna do it at home, isn't she?"

"I… yes, most likely."

"So in the end, I couldn't help her. Not the way she needs to be helped."

"You could point her out to a teacher? There's not much they can do unless she admits to it, but it might be worth trying," then she shrugged. "I can't do much myself, even if I do know about it. Besides informing her parents."

Telling her parents was probably for the best if they didn't already know. But he imagined it wasn't a topic Octavia would like to talk about, and might feel even less comfortable with people confronting her. Did that mean she should just be left alone? Maybe not. But good intentions and valiant efforts didn't always get rewarded with a happy ending.

But, if he could muster up a little courage, he could get Octavia and anyone else who needed help, to make the happy endings themselves. "I want to do it."

His aunt almost gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. "You changed your mind?"

"I did," Shit, and he actually meant it. What was wrong with him? "How else can I do it and respect her wishes without always needing to resort to… well, measures I shouldn't have to. Maybe that sounds weird when I'm trying to jump around people's hearts, but…"

He was already being more invasive than he should have been. Why not go all the way? Maybe it wouldn't work out, maybe he'd fail.

But if nothing else, he wanted to be able to live knowing he'd tried.

"Then come on, let's get started!" Peach had pulled him to his feet, smiling so wide that Jaune almost smiled back. Almost. Geez, did he have heartburn or something?

"Now?"

"Of course. We need to get you trained! Shouldn't take too long, but if we want to get the ball rolling, then I'm gonna push you hard. You ready?"

"Wait, gimme a—" The world shattered around them, "God damn it!"

But even while he wasn't ready and the world was dark and collapsing around him. The power in his chest flared to life again, and stronger this time, like a volcano had erupted inside him. Jaune clutched at his chest, clawed, was desperate to be free from it. It got hotter. Even hotter. His head pounded furiously as the glass shards swirled into a single point, burst into an all-consuming flash.

And the chains broke.

Jaune's eyes snapped open. His body felt a bit heavier all of sudden, then he looked at himself.

Armor.

A white chest plate with gold trim hugged him over a black hood. White gauntlets, golden fingers, arm guards stretching up to his elbows, polished perfectly like they were tailor-made for him, fresh hot from the blacksmith's forge. Blue jeans tucked into black combat boots. He might have been impressed with that alone. But that's when he saw the shield.

A kite shield specifically, big enough that he felt it could protect him—anyone—from anything. Gold trimmed, sharp enough that the pale-blue moonlight licked the edges. The double crescent moons in the center almost… spoke to him. Revealed themselves as him. What was he looking at if not a reflection of himself? Made perfect sense somehow.

"Ohh, look at you!" Peach said as she came up to him. "You've changed forms. Means your semblance has awakened. Now it's just about figuring out what it does and how you'll fight with it."

"Semblance?" Jaune asked.

A howling. Might and vicious. Beowolves. Down below, Jaune could see the beasts racing toward them, some already scaling up the building like ravenous insects.

"Ready, nephew?" Peach asked, twirling her scalpel.

What else was there to say? Steeling himself, Jaune took the shield in both hands, followed Aunt Peach as she dived over the building. The wind lashed at his face, the fear was a violent storm in his heart, nothing made sense and yet everything did. Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

And why did it make him so happy?

Well, I certainly didn't expect such a positive response. Thanks everybody.

I hope this chapter keeps up the quality—I want the chapters to feel more like episodes in a way so that's what I was shooting for. Initially, the bit with Octavia was going to be stretched out over more chapters, but it served too well a purpose here. Feels like a lot has already happened and it's only two chapters so far—couldn't tell you if that's good writing or bad.

Especially since high school scenario type stories are usually not my thing, with a few exceptions of course, but I'm enjoying myself writing this so far. Let's see if I can keep the ball rolling.

Thanks for reading and see you in the next one.

ISA