Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. I own nothing.

11. School Days 04

An overcast morning

The way you stand tells your story
Yours, say nothing good
So insecure, Jaune, so unsure
So stop slouching, and...my, you're tall
-M&M's Yakuza lesson #11, to an embarrassed Jaune Arc

A stack of crates, left unattended. A roaring crowd, ignoring it. Skiving off work has never been so blatant.

Jaune sat cross-legged on a shipment of Atlesian potatoes, chin in hands. That any kind of crops grew in that frozen wasteland surprised him, but apparently, potatoes thrived on the southern end of that Kingdom. Nevermind that though, there were other proceedings going on more interesting than a crate of tubers. More bewildering, too.

Once again, Uncle Hei's men built a makeshift stage of empty pallets. Upon this arena of honor, a man stood.

Yet, he stood like no man.

The gangster set his legs wide apart, with the balls of his feet touching the ground and his heels lifted. He thrusted his knees forward, and leaned back precariously. His chest faced the sky, his chin tucked in. He opened his arms, fingers curled, as if to hold up the world. As if to take the world for himself. The minion bared his teeth in a wide grin.

The crowd loved it.

"Th-that sheer dominance, I've never seen anything like it!"

"It's not physically possible! People aren't meant to bend like that!"

"The pressure...too strong." *Swoons*

In retrospect, Jaune shouldn't have been surprised. Uncle Hei's subordinates respected arrogance, respected the dream that the world belonged to those with daring spirits. This contestant, through body language alone, embodied that sentiment.

Amidst the waves of awe, the man threw back his head and laughed victoriously.

Unfortunately, the gangster celebrated too soon. Disaster struck in his moment of elation. Jaune saw a strange movement in the abdomen. A twitch, a tensing of the torso. Slowly, the triumphant expression twisted into a rictus of pain. The man gritted his teeth. Stubbornly, he kept his posture.

Yet, the pain didn't pass. The shaking intensified, spreading throughout his limbs. At this point, Jaune realized what has happened. The pose truly was inhuman, maintaining it for any length of time an impossible task. The gangster's abs failed to sustain the weight and contortion. The result?

He experienced a cramp. And cramps don't just go away, not unless one changed the position that led to it in the first place. An evil smile sneaked its way onto Jaune's face. It won't be long, now.

The contestant lasted only seven more seconds. A keening wail emitted from his lips. His legs slid along the stage, the knees hitting the wooden floor. The torso followed as he collapsed backwards. His shoulders touched the pallets. The man curled in on himself, hands clutching his throbbing stomach. The wail faded to a whimper.

The previously-cheering crowd showed little mercy.

""Bahahahahaha!""

Raucous jeers flowed for the fourth time this morning. Some poses received applause, some elicited grudging nods, others got nothing but yawns. The spectacular failures, Jaune learned, will be viciously dissected and examined for every mistake. In the crowd's opinion, misplaced arrogance required correction.

The biggest mistake here, Jaune believed, was a failure to finish. The poor gangster practiced how to achieve the correct position, and achieved something legendary that could've gone into the annals of The Club's contests. However, he neglected to consider the performance's duration. He forgot the obvious, that the position must be held. For each act, the crowd first scrutinized the contestant. Secondly, every spectator rendered their own judgment. Finally, if the act prove a success, the audience would let their voices be heard as the contestant bask in adulation. The process added up to at least 2 minutes. To truly pose, one must hit the high note and keep it there.

Even as Jaune laughed along with the spectators, a part of him admitted that he was impressed. The stance gave a sense of power, and looked quite fabulous. Were it judged on that alone, the contestant deserved a perfect 10 points.

"Too bad."

"So sad."

A melodious voice crept over his right shoulder, as an identical second voice came from his left a beat later. His teachers have joined the crew in their great slackery.

"Melanie! Miltia! Where were you all morning?" Melanie groaned in reply.

"Some idiots were causing trouble at the markets."

"We had to get up at ten in the morning to deal with it, can you believe that?"

So, they were asleep until recently.

"If you need me to, I can take on those jobs to give you more free time?" He needed to show his face around the neighborhood, anyway, to develop his reputation. Miltia cooed.

"Awww, that's sweet of you to offer, disciple." Melanie appraised him, her chin in her hand.

"Hmmm, it's not a bad idea." She gained a mischievous smile. "It all depends on how you perform on that stage."

Huh?

"I'm not going up there."

Melanie smugly refused Jaune's refusal.

"You are now. Teachers' orders, gopher." Miltia explained.

"Every Yakuza learns how to stand. Do it well, and you won't even have to throw a punch."

"Like those losers earlier. They ran rather than face us."

Jaune admitted that would be useful if he intends to deal with troublemakers in the twins' place. Especially since his fighting techniques lacked precision and polish. The problem, though?

"But everyone will be staring at me!" Miltia waved away his objections.

"You had a pretty good swagger last time." Melanie added her thoughts.

"This is similar, just less walking."

"You need to learn this, and there's no better time. Go."

The previous contestant's humiliation suddenly seemed a lot less humorous. Nevertheless, his teachers have spoken, this is now a lesson. Meekly, Jaune headed for the gallows.

Jaune ran through his options as he stomped onto the stage. From the people who've come before him, Jaune learned that the more exaggerated the pose, the greater the chance of failure. Bombastic gestures carried great risk, and must be tempered by practicality. Conversely, a simple stance gained very few points, such as merely standing with arms crossed. Unlike the last contest, where small mistakes and a lack of imagination can hide behind constant motion, this contest allowed the audience ample time to analyze every facet of the act. A normal pose impressed no one.

Reaching the center of the stage, Jaune's mind managed to conjure up only vague ideas. One possibility that stood out, appeared in a fashion magazine his sisters liked.

Jaune straightened his spine, and slid his left hand into his pocket. That was all.

Instantly, terror gripped Jaune's heart. That can't be all, that was barely a start!

His other arm presented an issue. One hand in a pocket suggested a casual indifference, two hands suggested a lack of confidence. He recalled the magazine's model had the arm held straight down. Easy enough to do, yet unimpressive. Too boring, too idle. Thugs scoffed at such a soft stance.

Jaune his brain for a way to proceed. He possessed a few arcade coins in his pocket. He could flip one again and again. He risked missing a catch, however, and the heavy point-loss that goes along with it. He considered throwing hand gestures, although he doubted the audience would clap for the peace sign or the middle finger. He…had his long knife!

Jaune's right hand unsheathed the wakizashi, rotating his wrist to brandish the blade in two quick circles. The first row of minions backed away. Some reached for their own blades or axes. Weapons raised tension, so most refrained from using it in their pose. Those that do, tended to twirl their swords or axes aggressively in artistic patterns. Too much movement would detract from the stillness of his left arm, so Jaune copied an earlier gangster who wielded a baseball bat by resting the blade on his right shoulder.

Now, what to do with his legs? A wide stance matched better with flamboyant arm positions. His current posture worked best with both legs straight and his feet pointed slightly apart. On the other foot, that pose eliminated any points he can received for his lower half. Too tame, too passive. He recalled his teachers mentioning that many people considered uniformity in appearance boring, hence their clashing stylistic choices.

Jaune shifted his left foot forward. At the same time, he introduced an asymmetry to his torso by leading slightly with his left shoulder. Would this work?

The goon directly in front of Jaune turned his head away, avoiding Jaune's eyes. It worked!

The lean of the shoulder focused his pose in one direction, intensifying its effect on those in its path. In essence, Jaune hinted to the man that Jaune intended to lunge forward. It proved the possibility of a new avenue for Jaune's performance. He wrongly assumed binary choices between the different styles, between static and dynamic poses. His actions so far suggested that subtle motions can produce pronounced effects.

A naked blade only displayed the mere threat of possible violence. Experimentally, Jaune began tapping the blade in a steady beat on his shoulder. The movement drew the eyes, a constant reminder to the audience of the blade's presence. More gangsters cowered, as the air of anticipation in Jaune's tapping indicated the threat of imminent violence.

Jaune contemplated going for an arrogant sneer, he tried to imagine himself with such a face. No, he couldn't hold that expression, out of embarrassment if nothing else. However, as he caught the stare of a weedy gangster, Jaune chanced a quick smirk and the minion jerked back. Success!

Jaune incorporated the technique into his pose. He focused on one spectator at a time, waiting a beat as if judging their worth. Then, he displayed an amused twitch of the lips or a tightening of his eyes. A simple intimation that he would take action against them. Most cowed away, sheepishly rubbing their heads and nervously chuckling. To those that withstood the pressure, Jaune nodded at them in respect. So far as they know, anyway. He just wanted higher points, and weren't too proud to play to the crowd.

It began with approving nods and shrugs. A minion here and there clapped. One voiced his thought.

"Dude, I thought you were going to kill me! Not bad."

It open the gates for others to render judgment.

"Pffft, it wasn't that scary."

"I like that it's imitable, I'm using that move first chance I get."

"Tapping his foot gets the same sense of impatience, the sword wasn't needed. 6 out of 10."

"It's not impatience, it's eagerness. He's not waiting for the bus, he wants a fight. 9 out of 10."

"Too high!"

"Too low!"

A divisive reception, with no true consensus. As befitting the middle path, some thought him too showy, others believed him too uninspired, while most found enough similarities to their own preferences to like it. A sizable contingent started cheering, as an equally large group began scoffing. Jaune rolled his eyes as a particularly vocal pair began trading punches, coincidentally earning himself points with a few other judges.

His eyes searched for his teachers. Melanie and Miltia lounged on the potato crate. Catching his gaze, Melanie raised two thumbs up, while Miltia clapped softly. They liked it!

Jaune Arc, contestant #23: 7 out of 10 points, high intensity, low difficulty, could use more arrogance, a stance with solid fundamentals and much promise.

That night, Jaune observed himself in the mirror, and he had to admit that he looked pretty awesome. Although, that elbow seemed a little awkward. The angle of the knife too. Should the feet be further apart or closer together?

Jaune kept practicing his poses for an hour. He tried out various sneers and smirks for another two.


A nameless mook sat at the bar, bourbon in hand. He lamented his missed chance to be somebody; he knew he could've been a contender. If only he held the pose. A bear-headed figure occupied the seat beside the man, a hand clapping his back in sympathy. It raised a signal for more drinks.


A hot, humid day

As you observe your enemies
So do they observe you
Don't let them see the cracks
That's where they stab their knives
-M&M's Yakuza lesson #21, to a tired Jaune Arc

"Look at it, gopher. A worst den of scum and villainy, Vale has never seen."

Jaune looked. And looked some more. A three-stories building, red-bricked, with white railings along the walkway. Identical doors, evenly spaced, lined by potted plants or decorations. An occasional bicycle beside a door, here and there.

"Melanie, I just see one of Uncle Hei's apartment buildings." Melanie scoffed.

"It's what inside that's rotten." She crossed her arms, and pouted. "That bitch just had to take off today of all days."

"Hey! Miltia needed her claws repaired. Imagine you not having those heels while you work."

"…Gopher, I was talking about the minion whose job was to collect the rent." Jaune's face paled.

"O-oh."

"…"

"…"

"Hehehe. Wait 'til I tell Mil."

Forehead smashed into the ground, Aura keeping his head from bleeding, as Jaune groveled.

"Please, it was a mistake!"

"I don't know, Jaune. Miltia might want to know what you really think of her."

"You call her that all the time, so I just thought you were talking about her again. I'll do anything, just don't tell her!" Melanie perked up.

"Anything?"

Jaune nodded rapidly. He didn't see Melanie grinning like a fox.

"Hmmm. Fine, but I'll keep that little marker in my pocket for now. You can get up."

Jaune scrambled to his feet. Thrusting his hands in his pocket, Jaune affected a cool demeanor as he pretended the last minute didn't happen.

"So, we're here to collect rent?" Melanie drudged ahead, her enthusiasm waning as they focused onto business again.

"Yup. From college students, no less. Oum, do I hate them."

Jaune tilted his head. What was wrong with college students? Curiosity winning out, Jaune asked Melanie to explain.

"You wanna know? First of all, the stereotype that college students are all broke? It's a fact here. Their first time living on their own, and they picked the apartments closest to a nightclub. The tenants we have aren't here to study, and aren't known for sound financial decisions." Jaune interrupted.

"Why are they renting in the summer?"

"I want to say for summer courses, but I know that's not true for these bunch. My guess, they've gotten a taste of independent life and can't get enough. The drinks, the sex, the drunken sex." Melanie smirked upon seeing Jaune's cheeks pinked. "For whatever reasons, vacancy rate barely rise in summer months."

"Good money, then?"

"Good money. Even if we have to shake them down every month for it."

The two teens reached the staircase, and made their way up to the 3rd-floor walkway. Melanie took the time to teach Jaune the process, along with passing on important warnings.

"Remember, they may seem stupid, stoned, or sloshed. Because they are. But the second reason why I hate them? Their boozed-up brains can still sense weakness like those little lemurs, and they'll take advantage of you mercilessly." Frowning, Jaune asked.

"So, what do I do?"

"Keep a steady head. And the less we talk to them, the better."

"Why am I here, anyway? Are you doing that 'throwing me to the sharks' thing, again?" A valid concern, when it came to his teachers.

"Because I don't want to be the only one suffering." She snorted at his glower. "Hah! Kidding. Honestly, I'm worried about some of the trickier bastards. I've had some that annoyed me until I nearly try to cut them. Luckily, Miltia realized that was part of their plan to wrangle free rent, and held me back." Jaune yelped incredulously.

"They're willing to bleed for free rent? Wait, they're willing to piss off gangsters for free rent?"

"A den of scum and villainy, like I said. College students haven't learned self-preservation. It wouldn't have worked, of course, but it might drive other tenants away if stories get around. Miltia's always been better at seeing through them."

And Miltia wasn't here. Melanie only had Jaune as backup. Wonderful.

As they approached their first stop, Melanie turned to Jaune.

"I'm serious. Don't show weakness, and help me keep my temper in check, ok?"

Jaune met her request with a firm nod.

He quickly came around to Melanie's thinking. Oum, does he hate college students.

Most weren't bad, in that they made weak attempts to delay or reduce the rent. A firm no, and most relented. Jaune suspected that the token efforts were the students' forays into haggling, pushing the boundaries to test how the world worked. As individual encounters, Jaune found their attempts relatable. In aggregate, it aggravated him.

Wait. Beacon runs for four years. Would he count as a college student soon? The thought of turning into one of them filled Jaune with disgust. Uncle Hei used to be one, too. Jaune resolved to ask his Uncle how to cure the affliction.

They approached Room 304, and that was when everything changed. Melanie tried to speak, only to be washed away as the scrawny, forgettable girl spewed forth a torrent of excuses. Her brother needed an operation. Someone robbed her apartment the other night, and the security here was terrible. She invested in a venture that should get her the money to pay the next few months' rent, promise. Every time Melanie parted her lips, it sparked another round of excuses.

By the second minute, Melanie contemplated driving a bladed heel into the woman's stomach, spilling her guts onto the floor. Not just contemplated, she fantasized. By the fourth, Jaune wanted to scream. The summer heat added to their suffering, making sweat pour down their backs.

Jaune realized that Melanie chose wrongly. He's much more likely to egg her on, rather than hold her back. He's supportive like that.

""ENOUGH!""

Both girl and boy yelled at the same time, their limits reached. Melanie brandished her heels.

The student whipped out an envelope. Inside, the rent money. The scrawny girl happily declared to her confused collectors.

"Here it is! You really should have just asked, you know."

The door slammed on the slack-jawed faces of Jaune and Melanie. The two stood there, staring blankly.

"Melanie, this building has a troll infestation." Melanie sighed.

"Yeah."

"Is there an exterminator we can call?"

"I wish."


The next troublemaker resided in Room 215. Before even reaching the door, Jaune noticed it was already pounding and shaking. Muted music and what sounded like gunshots emanated from the thick wooden door, and blared forth as the door opened. Cargo shorts paired with a tank top, and a beer in one hand.

The quintessential party-bro.

Plus his crew crowded around a TV, playing a game at max volume. Music thundered from a speaker, also at max volume.

Melanie reeled back from the mixed scent of beer, greasy pizza, cannabis, and testosterone. She pushed Jaune to the fore, using him as a windbreak to avoid the stench and noise. Jaune struggled to shout over the music and videogame, requesting the rent money.

The half-drunk, half-baked, all-bro student scrunched his face in concentration and began negotiations.

He first offered greasy pizza. He moved on to cannabis. When neither worked, he groaned and moaned. Very reluctantly, he offered his most precious possession.

"I have a six-pack of beer. Just-, just take it you leeches." He sniffed morosely.

Melanie cracked.

She grabbed the older boy by his tank top and pulled him down. She hissed.

"Money. Lien. Do you have it, or do I haVE TO SELL YOUR ORGANS!?"

"Ok ok, chill!" The boy straightened his shirt, huffing indignantly. "I didn't want to do this, but needs must. Wait here for a moment."

His piece said, the student walked back into his apartments, closing the door on the way. Before Jaune or Melanie could decide to break their way in, they heard the student's voice.

"Alright, who owes me money?"

These words became the starting signal for arguments, violence, and unmanly sobbing for the next few minutes.

The door creaked open. A packet hit Jaune's chest.

"Take your money, leeches."


"Melanie, we need a new plan."

His teacher stomped the floor, spitting mad.

"Yeah, we burn this place down! Let it end, Jaune, all of it." A growing part of Jaune agreed. He slammed down on that urge.

"Let's keep that for later. I think we're going about this wrong." Melanie quirked an eyebrow.

"Go on."

"They don't respect us. I'm betting they saw our youth and dismissed us then and there. Every time they get under our skin, it proves to them that we're no big deal. Moreover, I can't keep you calm, if I can't stay calm myself." His teacher clenched her hands into fists.

"You really think so, huh? They don't respect me? Hehehehe." Melanie valued her reputation, Jaune knew. His words were akin to throwing gasoline on a bonfire. The college students deserved it, he consoled himself.

"Fine. We're not suited for polite and peaceful anyhow. Jaune, put those sunglasses on. I want you to put the pressure on them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, now make the pose! You know, that one!"

Jaune complied, bringing his knife to rest a shoulder. he left it sheathed, worried that a naked blade might cause someone to call the police. Jaune raised himself from a half-dead slouch to full height.

"~Yeah~. Ehem. I'll start off. If you see them deflecting, get in their face. Leave the threats to me."

"Understood, Mel. Uh, what if our act drive the tenants away."

"Good!"

Not good, but Jaune lacked the patience to care at the moment.

Jaune and Melanie blasted through the rest of the second floor. Melanie asked for the rent as soon as she saw the tenant, forgoing greetings and politeness. As the students demurred, Jaune would lean in close, almost nose-to-nose. Tapping the knife on his shoulder, Jaune then growled at them. Melanie joined in when needed with threats of bodily harm or imminent property damage. Money flowed smoothly from the students' pockets to theirs. Until they arrived at Room 109.

Big and buff, a musclehead taller than Jaune. He went for a bold approach, showering Jaune with threats while ignoring Melanie completely. In return, Jaune puffed himself up to match. His pride sang to him, demanding the submission of this challenger.

"Want me to call my buddies up? We'll see how tough you look with broken arms." Jaune laughed.

"My gang's bigger. Try it."

"I'll snap your scraggly little neck."

Strange. The older boy stood close enough to breathe on Jaune. He appeared extremely belligerent, yet refuse to make good on the threats. Why act so confrontational over rent, anyway?

"Bring your mother, blondie, I'll pay her any day." Why think about it? This idiot deserves pain. Jaune winded up for a swing.

Melanie wrapped around his arm.

"Leave it." She cheekily smiled to his glare. "Just wait."

Jaune gritted his teeth, and waited. And waited.

The hell?

The musclehead sighed disappointedly. His scowl turned into a sheepish chuckle. A hand fished in his pocket for a cheque.

"It was worth a shot. No hard feelings?"

Nobody that muscular should be that sly. Seeing Jaune's incensed countenance, Melanie whispered in his ear.

"We'll come back with Miltia tomorrow."

Her eyes promised murder. Jaune grinned in anticipation.


Jaune and Melanie collapsed on the bar counter, all but throwing the suitcase of rent revenue at Uncle Hei. Miltia happily sipped her cold glass of lemonade as she giggled at their red, sweaty faces.

"Did you have a good time together?" Melanie groaned.

"Bitch. Hey, Junior?" Uncle Hei answered her without looking, as he continued to count up the money.

"Yeah?"

"You know the guy that was supposed to collect the rent, the one that ditched work today?"

"What about him? I already docked his pay for the unannounced leave." Jaune gasped, while Melanie looked up in horror.

"You did WHAT? Give him back his pay, and give him a raise! We need him back."

"Uncle, the man's a hero. How could you?"

"I'm not about to reward laziness. Besides, you two did a great job! That slacker never managed full payments from every unit."

Jaune slapped the bar top.

"It's not about the money, Uncle. You need to take into account the journey. The man deserves better."

"All I know, is that you clearly have a better rapport with my tenants than he did. Hell, I want you to make the rounds to all my properties."

Melanie and Jaune shared a glance, and dropped their heads to the counter once more.


Author's Notes: Yes, the 1st gangster's pose has its roots in a meme from that bizarre yet fabulous show.

Ring-tailed Lemurs can smell weakness. They also have big, glow in the dark eyes.

Characters' opinions of college students do not reflect the views of the author. Just know that the condition is not permanent and there are two known cures so far.