The sun was low in the sky, but it casts a warm golden glow in the city of Vale. Jaune Arc, wearing his hoodie and jeans, walked through the lively streets on his way to Vale's Orphanage. His hair is slightly long, rugged and unkempt, with some strands having faded to white.
As Jaune entered the orphanage, the sound of children's laughter reached his ears. Walls adorned with colorful drawings and handmade art that showed the spirits of the little residents.
"Jaune!" Mrs. Jenkins, the kind-hearted caretaker of the orphanage, greeted. "The kids have been looking forward to you!"
"Hey, Mrs. Jenkins!" Jaune replied with a warm smile. "I'm always happy to spend time with them. What do you need help with today?"
Mrs. Jenkins handed Jaune a stack of board games and pointed to a group of children huddled in a corner. "How about starting with some board games? They've been eager to challenge you."
Jaune nodded and made his way to the group. The kids, ranging in age and size, looked up with wide eyes as he approached.
"Hey there, everyone!" Jaune greeted, kneeling down to their level as they swarmed him. "Who's up for a game?"
The excited cheers of the kids as they gathered around the makeshift game board made Jaune smile. He teased and engaged them in friendly banter, sharing stories and adventures that the kids were fond of listening.
The kids were fond of Jaune's easygoing nature. Whether it was homework, listening to dreams, or simply playing games. He listened earnestly, making him a quick favorite to the kids.
As he played with the kids, Mrs. Jenkins called him with a warm smile. "Jaune, we could really use some extra hands. The matrons have their hands full preparing help and help you can provide would be great!"
"Of course, Mrs. Jenkins! I'd be happy to help in the kitchen," Jaune replied, ever eager to lend a hand wherever he could.
Jaune found the matrons hard at work, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and managing multiple tasks at once. The aroma of home-cooked meals filled the air, swamping Jaune's nose with the smell.
"Jaune, we're so glad you're here," said Matron Emily, wiping her hands on her apron. "We've got a lot on our plate today! How about you start by helping us with those crates of vegetables over there?"
Jaune nodded and rolled up his sleeves. He picked up crates of fresh produce onto the kitchen counter and began washing and chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency. The matrons worked alongside him, and soon, the kitchen became even more busy.
Jaune found himself immersed in various tasks — from stirring large pots of soup to carrying heavy trays across the kitchen with ease. Despite the demanding workload, Jaune's infectious positivity and willingness to tackle any job endeared him even more to the matrons and the children. He was, after all, a tall and well-built young man with dashing looks. Some would even say he's wasting them in the orphanage, which only earns them a shrug from Jaune, who insists that this was his place to be.
In between tasks, Jaune took a moment to chat with the matrons and learn more about the daily challenges they faced. He listened closely, offering words of encouragement and gratitude for their hard work.
By the time Jaune and the matrons put away the last dish, they shared a sense of accomplishment. The kitchen was clean; the meals were prepared, and everyone's satisfied.
"Thank you, Jaune. Your help made a world of difference," Matron Emily said, smiling as she wiped her hands and patted Jaune's broad shoulders. "You don't look tired at all!"
"It was my pleasure. You all do incredible work here," Jaune replied, grinning sweetly. "And I'm just glad to help as much as I can."
With the kitchen done, the Matrons persuaded Jaune to join the children in the meal. After the meal, as Jaune was busying himself with the shelves, Mrs. Jenkin approached him with a warm smile..
"Jaune, I just wanted to express our gratitude once again. Your help in the kitchen and with the kids has been invaluable."
"Aw, it's nothing, Mrs. Jenkins. I'm happy to help," Jaune replied modestly, placing a toy on the shelf.
Mrs. Jenkins chuckled, "You're quite the modest one, Jaune. But I want you to know how much your presence means to us. In truth, we can't offer much in terms of pay, and I know it might not compare to what you could be earning."
Jaune stopped her polite concern. "Honestly, it's not about the pay for me. I believe in what you're doing here, and it feels good to make a difference, no matter how small. And I get to eat the Matron's food. In fact, just letting me eat to cover my food while I work odd jobs is enough for me to get by."
Mrs. Jenkins nodded appreciatively. "That's exactly what we love about you, Jaune. Your willingness to contribute, your genuine care for the children — it makes a world of difference. Not everyone's willing to work for us, considering the limited resources we have."
She continued with a sigh, "We know it's not a glamorous job, and the pay is far from what you could get elsewhere, but your presence brightens this place. The kids adore you, and your willingness to lend a hand, whether it's in the kitchen or playing with them, creates a sense of family here. It makes them feel that someone does care."
"I'm honored to be a part of it," Jaune said with a sincere smile.
Mrs. Jenkins patted Jaune on the shoulder. "And we're honored to have you here, Jaune Arc. Your actions speak louder than words, and you're making a real impact on the lives of these children. Sometimes, it's not about the money; it's about the heart you put into what you do. Thank you for being a part of our extended family."
Mrs. Jenkins bowed her head and then looked up, curious. "Jaune, I've been meaning to ask you," she began, "why do you choose to spend so much time here with us? I mean, with your skills, you could have a well-paying job as a huntsman, and yet you're helping us out, and the kids adore you."
Jaune chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, Mrs. Jenkins, I guess I've always been one to enjoy making a difference where I can. It's not about the money or the fame; it's about helping people, you know?"
Mrs. Jenkins studied him for a moment before responding, "Nonsense, Jaune. You could be out there, battling Grimm and making a name for yourself as Huntsman. And yes, I know an Aura user when I see one. You don't have the look of a civilian, Jaune. We aren't as clueless as you think we are. But you're here with us. The kids feel safer around you, and they look up to you. The boys want to be you, while the girls want to marry you. I'm afraid they'd have high standards if they leave our place! They'd compare anyone to you."
"Gosh, Mrs. Jenkins," Jaune shrugged off the compliment, a modest smile on his face. "I'm just doing what I can. Besides, being around the kids is rewarding in its own way."
Mrs. Jenkins raised an eyebrow, pressing Jaune again. "But why not pursue a career as a huntsman? You have the skills, the training. You could be out there, fighting the good fight."
Jaune's expression shifted, and a hint of pain flashed in his eyes. He sighed before responding, "I've had my fair share of battles, Mrs. Jenkins. Sometimes, it's not just about fighting Grimm. It's about the toll it takes on you. I've lost friends, faced unimaginable challenges, and it's... it's exhausting."
He paused, his gaze distant for a moment, and then he forced a small, pained smile. "I guess I'm just tired of the constant fighting. I needed a break, a chance to be somewhere peaceful, where I can make a difference without always having to look over my shoulder."
Mrs. Jenkins placed a hand on Jaune's shoulder, a comforting gesture. "You've been through a lot, Jaune. It's okay to take a step back and find peace. We're grateful for the help you provide here, and the children certainly benefit from having you around."
Jaune nodded appreciatively, the weight of his experiences clear in his eyes.
Late in the evening, after the children had gone to bed and the orphanage was quiet, Jaune armed with a mop and a bucket of soapy water, he moved about the common areas, wiping away any traces of the day's activities.
As he worked, Jaune's mind wandered to distant thoughts. His gaze seemed to fixate on a point in the distance, peering beyond the walls of the orphanage and into the vastness of Vale. To Beacon Academy, where he should have been if he went to the initiation.
A faint smile played on Jaune's lips, but soon, a shadow crossed his face. His gaze shifted, as if looking at something beyond the physical horizon. There was a hint of mystery and sadness in his eyes.
"Beacon," he murmured softly, almost as if speaking to an old friend. The word hung in the air, carrying with it a mixture of nostalgia and a touch of sorrow.
Abruptly, Jaune shook his head, as if dispelling his thoughts. The mop resumed its rhythmic movements, and Jaune continued his cleaning duties with a newfound focus. Whatever thoughts had momentarily occupied his mind pushed aside, locked away in the recesses of his faded memories.
The orphanage, bathed in the soft glow of dim lights, stood silent. Jaune continued his chores in quiet.
As the night settled over Vale, Jaune returned to his modest apartment. The soft glow of streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting a tranquil ambiance across the room. The space, though small, felt like a sanctuary—a place for Jaune to unwind and find solace.
Upon entering, Jaune closed the door behind him, his weary eyes reflecting the day's exertions. His gaze shifted toward the corner of the room, where Crocea Mors hung proudly on the wall.
Jaune approached the weapon, his fingers grazing its hilt as if seeking reassurance. For a moment, he allowed himself to trace the broken flat of the blade.
Turning away, Jaune walked towards the closet. In the dim light, a white armor and red sash stored carefully.
As Jaune reached out to touch the armor, a sense of nostalgia washed over him. A small smile played on Jaune's lips as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface. The armor in his closet — a reminder of the past. With a sigh, Jaune closed the closet door, leaving the armor shrouded in the darkness. The room, once again, embraced a quiet stillness. Jaune moved to the window and gazed out at the city below.
Jaune Arc sat alone, facing the TV. The headlines filled with news about the White Fang and the notorious criminal, Roman Torchwick. The recent events in Vale had left the city in a state of turmoil, and Jaune couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern and frustration.
As Jaune sat in the dim light of his apartment, the weight of the news headlines lingering in his mind, a sudden wave of emotion washed over him. He stared blankly at the wall, lost in a moment of reflection, his thoughts weaving through complex emotions.
"I can't do it again," Jaune muttered under his breath, the words escaping in a hushed tone.
The room, silent except for the distant hum of the city outside, seemed to echo Jaune's sentiment. The flickering glow of the television screen highlighted the shadows dancing across his face. With a heavy sigh, Jaune continued to contemplate the news that weighed on him. The lines etched on his forehead deepened as if the weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders.
"One lifetime should be enough," he whispered, his voice barely audible. The words held a solemn resignation. "I can't help this time."
Then it was just quiet.