31. School Days 08
The Club, a midsummer afternoon's reality
Money? Power? Boooring!
It takes heart to reach the top!
A Yakuza is a romantic!
A Yakuza fights for what they love!
-M&M's Yakuza lesson #04, to an awestruck Jaune Arc
"It hurts me to do this. You are my teachers. My friends. My heroes. I should never have to stand against you. But, to live as Yakuza is to live with violence. By my strength, I must take hold of what I love and protect it will all my might. You taught me that.
"So, this is me following your lead. This is me fighting for what I hold dear. Melanie, Miltia…
"I challenge you to a duel for my Pumpkin Pete hoodie."
In the wake of Jaune's declaration, the room fell so silent that one could hear a pin drop. From employees to minions, those in attendance watched Jaune with the wariness of one looking at a puppy that has turned feral. This was Jaune, Jaune, who just threw down the gloves. The people nearest to the trio evacuated the immediate vicinity, backing away with their hands raised protectively as if to ward off an imminent explosion.
The back and forth struggle for the hoodie between the Malachite Twins and Jaune were never overt, and the most that the bystanders have seen was the aftermath (and the repair bills). To do this now, in front of everybody? The contest previously fought in the shadows has entered a new stage, one without mercy. Public humiliation was on the table.
How would the two young women answer this brazen defiance to their authority?
For a long moment, the sisters wore incredulous expressions on their faces, unable to believe Jaune's audacity. Then, understanding dawned. Their eyes narrowed to slits, and the corners of their lips tugged downward in identical frowns. The air around them seemed to freeze over.
"Oh, you are not turning our lessons against us."
"Really, gopher? Really? We weren't talking about the hoodie when we said that!"
Be that as it may, the lesson they told him way back when proved apt today.
Some would consider his hoodie insignificant in the bigger scheme of things. They knew nothing.
They knew not of its breathability, a boon in these summer days. They knew not of it cool touch, a comfort in this heat. Whether rain or sweat, moisture would slide off the material to leave him dry and smelling fresh. When worn outside, it defied the seasons. Inside? To don the hoodie as one slept was to embrace happiness. Superior in every aspect, unrivaled in all of Remnant, the Pumpkin Pete hoodie was an irreplaceable treasure.
His treasure.
Would that not qualify as something important to him? If others were to dictate such in his place, would he even care for what they chose?
Nay. For Pumkpin Pete, he would fight.
It… may have a lot to do with the look of their previous skirmishes, too. Continually sneaking into each other's rooms made for a pretty suspect image. Rumors about him stealing articles of clothing from women's drawers, while technically true, were a gross misrepresentation that he wanted no part of. His defense, that Melanie and Miltia were doing the same to him, failed to absolve him from the scathing glares and merely resulted in all three being tarred in the same brush.
He had also lost waaaay too many times under previous conditions. The sisters had the homefield advantage in their room. A straight-up battle on even ground seemed the ticket to change things up.
Jaune looked from one girl to the other, then slipped a hand into his jacket to pull out his long knife. Before their eyes, he held the wakizashi by the scabbard as his other hand grabbed the hilt. The soft sigh of metal sliding against wood resounded to all corners of the room frozen in rapt attention; the Club's lights glinted off the naked blade. At last, they realized that he was serious as can be.
"That hoodie has stayed with you for far too long. You may think me petty for changing the rules of our game when you are ahead…you would be absolutely correct. I learned that from you, too. Don't tell me you can't take what you dish out?"
He spun the knife in a lazy circle, yielding them the floor. Would they reject him?
They stared at him, unblinking, for a minute. Then, at the same time, Melanie and Miltia broke out in smiles. Very happy smiles!
Very vicious smiles.
"Alright, then. Challenge accepted."
"Poor you, disciple."
Miltia brought her wickedly-sharp claws to bear. As she stalked onto the dance floor, she scraped the claws together, the sound grating on Jaune's ears. Melanie strutted by her sister's side, her bladed-heels tapping on the tiles. As she passed by Jaune, she used a hand to flick her hair. Soft, raven locks brushed his face, and he breathed in the scent of lavender.
A cheap trick, designed to distract him. Of course it worked. Jaune stayed in place, waiting for his head to clear. Once he was sure he could walk without stumbling, he marched after his teachers and took up position across from them.
There, confidently, they posed. Feet set apart, Melanie crossed her arms under her chest and stood with her nose high in the air in haughty arrogance. Her imperious gaze pinned him in place. Next to her, Miltia had bent forward in a sensual posture, one that just so happened to position her in a running stance. Her claws touched the ground to give her the resemblance of a cat on all fours, ready to pounce. The air of anticipation, of bloodthirst, around the red-clad girl sent a bolt of fear into Jaune's heart. Fear and, perhaps, thrill for the fight that was to come.
Past the sisters, Jaune saw Junior's men laying bets and preparing snacks. Since the twins have not exploded in anger, the bystanders lost their earlier apprehension and seemed to be taking this duel as the day's entertainment. More mooks arrived by the minute, and the betting pool rocketed to new heights. Behind the bar counter, Uncle Hei rubbed his forehead as he shot Jaune a glare. In the end, he threw his hands up and went to mix himself a drink. That was close enough to tacit approval for everyone else.
Jaune rested the long knife on a shoulder, projecting the appearance of strength through a pretension of nonchalance, but otherwise forwent any attempt at intimidation. He held no illusion that Melanie and Miltia would ever be affected. They knew his mannerisms too well.
His teachers judged his act with a critical eye, and nodded their heads in approval.
"The fool thinks himself a master, Miltia."
"How daring, how bold. He almost looked like a threat, Melanie."
"Almost."
A drop of sweat slid down his cheek. He certainly was affected by their attempt at intimidation. Right up until now, Jaune thought he had a fair chance. They may have taught him all he knew of combat, but in turn he had the opportunity to observe the nuances of their fighting styles. Considering all he had seen, he had reached the conclusion that victory seemed possible. A better prospect than trying to reclaim the hoodie through stealth and subterfuge, at least.
Their blasé attitude said otherwise. He might have missed something.
Nevertheless, it was far too late to change his mind. Commitment was his course.
As strobe lights in red and white shined down on the combatants, a soft dance beat rose in a crescendo. Up in his booth, the bear-headed DJ held up a hand, five fingers splayed wide. They descended one by one in a countdown.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The music halted… then roared from the speakers, signaling the start of the Ninth Battle for the Hoodie.
The Malachites opened the bout with their go-to, a pincer attack. Heels clicking on the tiles, Miltia darted forward to engage Jaune while Melanie skated on the smooth floor with her bladed boots, speeding past him on a wide, arcing trajectory.
Jaune ignored the latter and calmly walked towards Miltia, his knife coming up to meet her ferocious swipes with a series of almost careless slashes. In a trade like this, he had the upper hand. Her initial attacks shaved into his Aura, but so did his blade bite into her smaller reserves and she quickly turned defensive in the face of his relentless march.
Tanking her blows and never stopping his feet, he entered her personal space, far too close for her claws to effectively hurt him. She tried to break off, he followed.
Jaune slid a hand behind Miltia's waist and pulled her against himself, until one would be hard-pressed to even swing a fist. Placing a foot past her, he pivoted to turn Miltia's back to where he predicted Melanie to be. Miltia tried to claw at him, but without proper distance she only succeeded in pawing at his back. She growled in frustration, struggling in his grip. To her angry expression, he returned a grin, raising his knife high and slamming the pommel down on the top of her head to elicit a pained yelp.
Yes, this was the way to fight multiple opponents. As ever, the side with greater numbers would strive to encircle their opponent, and assault from multiple avenues to easily defeat they prey. The best strategy to survive this maneuver, as touted by warriors, thugs, and martial artists everywhere, centered around mitigating the numerical advantage to bring the battle on an even plane. Specifically, they would do this by keeping a foe between oneself and the rest of the combatants at all times, sticking to them like glue and whittling down their Aura amidst a game of constant repositioning.
And, of course, his teachers knew that.
His arm rose up again, but the second strike was foiled when he found his wrist locked in between two heel-blades. Vaulting over Jaune's head, Melanie used the hold to pull his arm along, giving her sister a chance to break from his grip. Claws raked long lines on his back as Jaune and Miltia pulled away from each other.
As she fell back down, Melanie twisted her body in midair to throw him. Rather than resisting, Jaune followed the motion to leap over her. His shoulder touched the ground, and he rolled to bleed off the impact. An about-face, and he was standing across from Melanie with Miltia a small distance behind her sister.
On the surface, they seemed to have played into his hand. In actuality, they were more dangerous than ever. Just as a counter existed for an attack, so too were there counters to that counter. Melanie and Miltia were well-versed in the ways to cut this knot. Discarding their previous strategy, they've grouped up.
Here was the moment they truly shined, when they shifted from a mentality of acting as two people to fighting as one pair.
Jaune has seen them take apart a foe in this way. The one in front would act as bait, engaging the opponent to create a gap that the one waiting in the wing can punish. Constantly switching out, they would drive an aggressive charge that allowed not a single moment of rest. Having been on the receiving end of this exact situation in countless spars, he knew how easy it was to get dragged into their tempo once it began.
The solution? Keep calm, and survive the onslaught as long as possible. Within the whirlwind, an opportunity will present itself.
He took deep breaths, finding his center. Setting his knife in a guard, he prepared for his teachers to make the first move.
Melanie obliged him and closed the distance, feinting one kick after another to try and get past his guard. She lifted a leg, and he back-stepped. In response, she transitioned into a quick hop and flicked her foot at his waist, pulling back when her boot was parried by his knife. Landing, she spun into a foot sweep. He raised his leg in turn to evade.
Even as he fought her, he found her style a beautiful thing to behold. Always in motion, her heels tapped out a series of mesmerizing dance steps in rhythm with the music. She spun and twirled as if performing a ballet, yet each movement presented a deadly threat. Elegance and danger went hand in hand.
A flutter of her legs raised her skirt tantalizingly high, and a glimpse of her bare thighs drew his eyes. Too late, he realized it had been intentional, a distraction-
*crack!*
-so she could sucker-punch his nose. He reeled back, out of surprise more than pain.
That…had been another trap that was all too easy to fall into when it came to the sisters, thinking Melanie would only ever use her legs, and Miltia her arms.
In the instant that he left himself open, a red shadow stepped out from behind Melanie; Miltia had been ready and waiting. She swiped at his side, her claws catching his armpit. A strong follow-through spun him around to expose his back. Jaune whirled again to face the twins, swinging his knife blindly and whiffing empty air. He had a split second to recognize two cheeky grins as the sisters leaned away from his attack before Melanie jumped up, tucked in her knees, and kicked out with both legs at his chest.
Her boots struck as a hammer to his ribs, and Jaune blacked out for a second at the same time that he felt a sensation of moving at great speed. He hit the ground, bounced off the surface, and skidded for a short distance until his limbs could find purchase. Coughing and hacking, he wobbled to his feet. A hand went to his chest, rubbing at the spot where he had been kicked. He winced as he felt sharp ache radiating from that area, a sure sign that without Aura he would have suffered broken bones.
"Ha! That's what you get for hitting my head!"
"Had enough yet, gopher?"
Jaune scoffed and very deliberately took his hand away. Resting the knife back on his shoulder, he charged. This time, it was Miltia's turn to run at him. Her heels screeched on the dance floor as she set herself and sliced upwards. He slammed his front foot against the ground to stop his momentum and reverse course, leaning back to turn what would have been a deep gouge into a shallow scratch. His back foot then pushed off the tiles to propel him forward once more.
Her claws came together above her head with a clang. A pirouette, and the claws slashed down. He crouched low, tucking in his head and extending the knife on his shoulder so it laid across his back. Blade struck blade, stopping cold. Jaune grunted from the heavy blow.
Stepping forward, he shoved the claws aside and reached out a hand to grapple with Miltia again. Fingers brushed soft fabric, seizing nothing as she cartwheeled to his left. He could have sworn he saw the girl stick out her tongue to taunt him. There was not much time to think on it, because her evasion revealed Melanie, whose wheel kick snapped out on a course for his right temple.
Her foot met his knife coming from the other direction. Using his greater strength, Jaune batted the leg away before pulling back his weapon. The knife whipped out to clip her chin from below, lifting it so she looked at the ceiling. In that gap where her eyes could not see him, he lashed out in a front kick to send her through the air.
A collective 'OOOOOH' rang out from the crowd of onlookers at that bit of petty vengeance. Even his teachers would have called the move poetic… if he had done it to anyone else.
Before he could pursue, Miltia reentered the scene to cover for her distressed sister. A high block with his free hand stopped an overhand swing at the cost of Aura. With his knife, he parried a side swipe and hooked his blade under her wrist to yank the arm up to the sky, leaving her wide open.
Chambering his fist, he punched her solar plexus to knock the air out of her lungs. The knife in his other hand sliced down her front, then reversed its path to slash up. His fist followed the motion to land another hard punch. It proved a bad move, as Miltia cartwheeled backwards with the momentum to gain distance, passing Melanie who rushed by to kick out at Jaune.
A hasty guard with his forearm prevented it from striking his stomach. Digging in her heel, Melanie used his arm as footing to jump, launching a light kick with her left leg on the way up to make him flinch, then a right roundhouse on the way down to catch him on the cheek. It barely smarted, but the kicks were never meant to inflict damage in the first place.
He recognized the combo, what it set up for, and so stayed light on the balls of his feet.
Melanie touched the ground and dropped low in a spinning leg sweep. The usual defense would be to jump over it, and the aggressively-minded might even stomp down in a counter. Those who do so would regret it, because here came Miltia with a simultaneous attack. Dashing along the ground to hide behind Melanie, Miltia leapt over her sister with her claws streaking for his head.
Jaune hopped back out of Melanie's range and raised his knife to deflect Miltia's claws. His free hand grabbed her arm, and pulled the girl to the ground just in time for her to collide with Melanie, whose foiled sweep had transitioned into a rising heel kick aimed at his belly. They recovered quickly, rolling in opposite directions. Jaune chased after Melanie.
One swing, two swing, both missed. The third slash smacked her bicep, and the fourth locked with the heel of Melanie's boot. She wrenched his arm aside, then chambered her leg for a low roundhouse to the back of his knee, quickly recovering to launch into a high roundhouse that made him stumble back. Pressing the opportunity, she continued at an ever faster tempo to keep him off-balanced; low, high, low, high, high-
Miltia slid along the floor below her sister's next roundhouse, and thrusted her claws on course for his-
Oh, fuck!
Jaune, face blanching white, crossed his arms to prevent her attack from reaching its target. In doing so, he left his face unguarded. Melanie foot smashed into his temple.
*Crack*
His head snapped to the side, and his legs tripped over each other. Arms flailing, Jaune tried to regain balance. His heart dropped when two pairs of claws laced under his jaw. He glanced above his head, and stared into lovely green eyes. Miltia, mid-flip, laughed wildly at the prey she had caught. He had a moment of warning as the claws squeezed before Miltia hoisted him into her revolution. Tucking herself into a ball, she spun in a tight axis while Jaune traced a wider path around her.
Miltia landed first. Her boot heels touched the tiles with a click, and her arms followed through to throw him at the ground. He hit the floor, and skidded on his face for a distance.
Groaning, he rolled over on his back. The red-and-white strobe lights disoriented him, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision. Just as he recovered, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a skirt billowing in the air, an expanse of smooth thighs pressed together. This gave way to long white boots, and bladed-heels tapered to deadly points.
Aura or not, agony awaited him should she land on his body.
In terror, he rolled out of the way. Melanie slammed into his previous spot, right where his stomach would have been. The tiles cracked below her boots.
Scrambling upright, he saw Miltia sharing a look with Melanie as they rushed at him, and the two nodded in tandem.
That was never good to see.
While the former sped forward, the latter hung back. Then, she diverted her steps to the right and disappeared behind her sister.
He held his knife in a guard as Miltia neared. Without slowing, she dug her claws in the floor, and gouged out a spray of debris that she flung at his face. Instinctively, Jaune covered his eyes with an arm, the other hand stabbing out with his knife to deter the girl.
Below, Melanie skidded into view, coming to a stop by his feet and grinning up at him.
Her hips pivoted to turn away. One foot popped up to aim at the ceiling, the other braced for launch. Then, she shot up in a vertical kick. The foot ran parallel to his body, making its way past his waist, past his chest. It struck him under the chin, lifting him off the ground, and continued on until her legs formed a split worthy of a ballerina, a straight line from foot to foot that sent Jaune rocketing skyward. His knife slipped out of his grip, and went flying off out of sight.
As Jaune reached the apex of his flight, he saw Miltia grab Melanie's arm. The girl in red spun the girl in white in a circle to build momentum, then swung up to throw her sister at the helpless boy. High-heeled boots met his abdomen and, feeling distinctly like a ball being volleyed, Jaune ascended once more.
I'm going to be stuck in the air forever, aren't I?
He might not be far wrong because as Melanie dropped towards the ground, Miltia jumped up to meet her, then bounced off the girl to double-jump.
To his surprise, the leap carried her past him. Surprise became panic when her shoes settled on his back and she began slashing furiously, ripping away at his Aura as she rode him down.
Seconds from impact, Miltia pushed off Jaune, imparting in his body greater speed. When Jaune smashed into the dance floor, it was as a meteor. His impact cracked the tiles and kicked up a cloud of dust.
Once the cloud cleared, the audience beheld the sight of Jaune laying in a crater. His Aura flickered weakly, a sign of his exhausted state. Above him, two figures stood.
No, they posed.
One hand cupping the opposite arm, Melanie checked her nails for any damage. She affected a disinterested mien, as if she had not just demolished a man. That was, unless one looked closely to see the corners of her lips struggling to not quirk up in a victorious grin.
Next to her, Miltia displayed a soft, demure smile as she fell into an elegant curtsy. Again, as if she had no part in the body that laid crumpled at her feet.
They were met with a storm of applause and cheers (plus a piteous wail from a certain gangleader as he estimated the dance floor's repair bill). As much as the rank and file liked Jaune, to see the Malachite twins in battle was to witness art in motion. One could not help but clap for the performance. Calls of 'encore!' rang out from a few minions, the word reaching the ears of the barely-conscious Jaune and making him shiver in dread.
Lying in that crater, Jaune sighed in disappointment. He had failed for the fourth time in a row to reclaim his hoodie. More than that, the fight had shattered his belief that he was approaching the levels of his teachers. In all their spars, they were never so brutal, or so masterful. Have they been going easy on him?
Tired, blue eyes looked up at the triumphant beauties. And in emerald eyes, he found the answer.
They had not been humoring him during their previous spars, not quite. What they've sought to accomplish during training was to raise his physical ability and teach him the techniques necessary for fighting. In that, they succeeded beyond what he thought possible in these short months. What their spars failed to do, however, was emulate real-life conditions. In an empty match of no consequence, they could not teach him the drive for victory.
He had almost done it on his own by challenging his teachers today. The addition of stakes teased out an extra bit of something in his every action. Each blow was sharper, Each reaction quicker. Yet, his prowess remained a realm below that of his teachers, because that want- that need- which spurred him on went double for them. Triple, even. Higher.
How can he tell?
In those eyes, clear as day, he saw little shapes of a familiar form. A round circle with two long ears, sporting two black dots for eyes and a 'w'-shaped mouth. Pumpkin Pete.
He had all sorts of worries and desires clouding his thoughts. They've only ever had the hoodie on their mind.
No wonder he lost.
Victory was a contest of strength, skill, and will.
Strong of body but weak of mind, the summit for him remained so high. Today's fight had been a barometer of his progress, and what he learned was that he had much to learn.
The masters were still the masters.
The fool was yet a fool.
But, someday…
Author's Notes: Friends with Aura play rough.
Jaune vs. the Malachite Twins: Round 1. Something I've been wanting to do for a good while. As for Round 2, it'll be in the future, after he had polished his abilities further in Beacon.
Re-watched Yellow Trailer a few dozen times to develop this scene. Monty Oum did an amazing piece of choreography there. Like, wow, that was the video that sold me on the show in the first place. Nostalgia~
Next chapter will post on Halloween, then out of contact for two weeks. Writing, maybe. Posting, difficult.