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/-/Scene 1 Black and White /-/

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Snow fell from the dark skies over Atlas. The grey tundra stretched endlessly around the mountain, the only movement the approaching storm drifting on frigid winds. A lighter clicked, illuminating the small watchtower.

Inside the glass-walled room, technicians busied themselves with flickering computers and screens. A brunette woman jutted a gloved thumb towards a sign on the wall: "No Smoking." The soldier grumbled and turned to his partner.

The younger man, whose tag read "PVT Tiffany," stepped towards the door.

"Look what you did, Pine. You made the newbie stand out in the cold," LT Celadon said, bantering with the woman.

"Doctor Polendina's orders. You know how he is," Pine replied.

Celadon snorted. "Bubblegum doesn't stay in the digestive tract for 5 years," he quoted mockingly.

A bespectacled man at the radio swiveled in his chair. "I happen to think Mr. Polendina's knowledge and wisdom is refreshing."

Celadon shook his head. "I'm sure he'd be absolutely tickled to hear you say that. Maybe you should tell him when he gets back." He waved off the technicians, boots thudding against metal plating as he approached the door. "Call me if you guys get attacked by White Fang or something."

"That's not funny," Pine frowned.

"We're in the middle of nowhere guarding General Ironwood's toys. The most dangerous thing you can get out here is cold sores. And I know none of you are getting any," Celadon smirked. "Call me if you need me."

The door shut with a pneumatic hiss. Celadon tapped his partner's shoulder, both clutching their rifles as they stepped out. The large semicircle wall around the mountain complex blazed with spotlights. Three Bullheads with mounted machine guns sat idle on the landing pads.

Celadon lit a cigarette, savoring the cool menthol mingling with the midnight air. PVT Tiffany coughed, earning a sharp look from Celadon. "Don't be a wuss."

Tiffany hesitated under Celadon's piercing gaze. "Where do you even get those?"

Celadon pointed to the military trucks. "When the trucks are airlifted, they usually have empty gas tanks for safety reasons. Guy I know back home sneaks them into the gas tank, and when they get here, a guy in mechanics extracts them for me."

"That sounds illegal."

Celadon kept walking, unfazed. "It is."

"So how do you get them not to say anything?" Tiffany asked.

Celadon chuckled. "I order them to keep their mouths shut."

"Isn't that an abuse of power?"

Celadon made a dramatic gesture with his cigarette. "Who's going to chew me out? The superior officer who doesn't want to be here? Or the other Lieutenant who has Mistralian wine sent in the same containers we get our missiles?"

He took another drag. "This is a dead end. No one wants to be here, but I'd rather be here than in Mistral."

Tiffany glanced towards the icy tundra. "What's wrong with Mistral?"

"Faunus," Celadon replied. "Friend of mine back home said that on a recent patrol, there was some Faunus who looked like a jacked lion." He flexed his biceps, covered by sleek thermal armor.

"Don't all Faunus have animal traits?"

"They're supposed to only have one. Apparently, this one was more animal than human. Said it was covered in fur." Celadon shook his head. "Plus all the Dust shipments. I hear the SDC is petitioning General Ironwood to start defending shipments of Dust. But apparently they're getting someone from Vale to take care of it."

Tiffany cocked his head. "How do you know all this?"

Celadon shrugged. "When I was a young soldier, I used to frequent this place in Atlas. The Glass Unicorn. It burned down, but it was a hotspot for soldiers who wanted to spend their money. Met a few soldiers there, and even though the place got wrecked, we keep in touch."

As they walked, Tiffany probed, "So... you and Pine?"

Celadon chuckled, tossing his cigarette over the wall. "Eh, maybe when I get out of the military. It's a bad idea to date in the workplace, especially when our workplace is packed with enough weapons to glass a city." He smirked. "But maybe."

They rounded the base, entering a tunnel through the mountain. The snowflakes on their armor melted as warmth enveloped them. Their walkie-talkies crackled briefly.

"You think we'll be sent to guard the Vytal Festival?" Tiffany asked.

Celadon shook his head. "Probably not. Best case scenario, it's broadcasted and we can watch it on a projector outside." He rounded another corner. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, really. It's a massive dick-measuring contest. When I was in it, I was told to hold back to give the audience a show. It's all a big joke, and in the end, the only person who actually gets anything is the guy who bet on the winning team."

"You fought in a Vytal Festival?"

"Yup. Used to be a Huntsman in training, was going to be a Specialist. Then my Aura broke during the festival right before some Faunus from Vale put buckshot through my knee."

"And you ended up here?"

"It's a non-combat role. No one's going to bother coming all the way out here, so I can keep my healthcare and not have to pay rent. Good deal for me." Celadon shrugged, tapping his keycard on the watchtower door. It opened with a pneumatic hiss.

A splattering of blood erupted, momentarily blinding Tiffany. His visor obscured, he frantically wiped at the faceplate, heart pounding. Celadon stood paralyzed, transfixed by piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows.

Pine reached out, a scream forming on her lips. In a blur of motion, a figure materialized from the darkness. A blade of crimson appeared in its hand, arcing downward with terrifying speed. Pine's bright green aura flared brilliantly, crackling like lightning before shattering beneath the relentless strike. The blade plunged deep, and Pine's gasp of shock echoed through the room as she crumpled to the floor.

Tiffany's hand flew to his communicator. "Emergency in Watchtower 2! Intru—"

His words were cut short as Celadon snapped into action. The soldier's rifle came up in a fluid motion, muzzle flashing as he unleashed a torrent of gunfire. The shadowy assailant became a whirlwind, effortlessly weaving between the streaks of light. Bullets ricocheted off walls and equipment, the figure seemingly untouchable.

"Armed and extremely dangerous!" Tiffany managed to finish, his voice cracking with urgency.

A deafening crack of thunder shook the watchtower. Celadon, teeth bared in determination, drew a gleaming combat knife from his hip. With practiced precision, he affixed it to his rifle's barrel.

The shadow landed atop a nearby desk, its form coiled like a predator about to strike. Celadon let out a war cry and charged, swinging his rifle in a wide arc. A katana of deepest crimson materialized to meet the attack, and sparks exploded outward as the blades clashed.

Metal screeched against metal as Celadon's bayonet slid down the length of the katana. The soldier pivoted, using the momentum to bring his weapon around in a vicious swipe aimed at the intruder's throat.

The shadow moved with inhuman speed. It twisted, its back leg snapping outward in a brutal kick. Celadon's eyes widened a split second before the boot connected with his chest. The impact sent him hurtling backward, crashing through a bank of monitors in a shower of sparks and broken glass.

Tiffany, finally regaining his vision, drew his sidearm. The shadow's head snapped towards him, those haunting blue eyes locking onto their new target. Time seemed to slow as Tiffany's finger tightened on the trigger, the muzzle flash illuminating the room like a miniature sun.

The bullet never found its mark. The shadow bent backwards at an impossible angle, the round whistling harmlessly overhead. In the same fluid motion, it sprang forward, closing the distance to Tiffany in the blink of an eye.

A hand of darkness clamped around Tiffany's wrist, twisting with brutal efficiency. His pistol clattered to the floor as pain lanced up his arm. He lashed out with his free hand, but it was like striking smoke.

In an instant, Celadon saw stars and his ears popped as a light Dust grenade exploded. The room lit up, and he felt a hand wrap around his shoulder, pulling him out of the way.

"LT, let's go!" Tiffany shouted.

The bitter cold bit at them as they stumbled out the doors. Glancing back, Celadon saw the shadow was gone. He heard the crackling of lightning and something screeching. Looking up into the starless sky, he saw great golden eyes and a white mask peering down. A giant Nevermore-like creature flapped its wings, more lightning illuminating the night.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Tiffany yelled.

Celadon steadied himself, the soreness in his leg returning. He cursed under his breath, pulling his communicator from his chest. "This is Lt. Kaiser Celadon. Status report!"

The communicator was silent for a moment before crackling to life. Tiffany's eyes darted around as snowfall intensified and gunfire echoed in the distance.

Celadon turned to Tiffany, pulling his sidearm from his belt. Tiffany reloaded his rifle, a small flame marker symbolizing he was loading Fire Dust rounds. The two stepped back into the heated tunnel, now flashing with red lights. Celadon raised his pistol as the door at the end of the hall opened.

A massive black wolf Faunus materialized at the end of the hall, its emerald eyes pulsing with an otherworldly glow. The beast's hulking form hunched over, each labored breath sending tremors through the air. Its snarl reverberated off the walls, a primal sound that chilled Tiffany to his core.

"What in Remnant's name is that?" Tiffany gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Celadon, vision swimming and hands quivering, gritted his teeth. "Doesn't matter what it is. Take it down!"

He squeezed the trigger, a streak of light lancing towards the beast. The tracer round struck its shoulder, the impact rippling across its hide. Celadon's breath caught in his throat as the creature remained unscathed.

"No penetration," he hissed. "Aim for weak points – stomach and mouth!"

Tiffany stepped forward, his rifle raised with unwavering determination. The air ignited as a hail of Fire Dust rounds erupted from the barrel. Each impact detonated in a brilliant flash, engulfing the beast in a storm of flames and shrapnel.

Celadon targeted its eyes, his rounds streaking through the inferno. A chunk of the monster's shoulder disintegrated, revealing pulsing muscle beneath.

The beast's roar shook the foundations as it charged, closing the distance with terrifying speed. Celadon snatched the knife from Tiffany's hip, his Aura flaring to life as he met the creature's razor-sharp claws head-on. Lightning crackled over Celadon's protective field, intensifying with each thunderous clash.

Celadon danced backward, creating an opening for Tiffany. Another spray of Fire Dust rounds slammed into the beast, the explosions momentarily staggering it.

A fierce light ignited in Celadon's eyes as he tapped into his Semblance. The wolf Faunus unleashed a flurry of strikes, each swipe leaving ghostly afterimages in the air. Celadon parried and dodged with superhuman grace, his movements becoming a blur.

Lightning coalesced around Celadon's knife, arcs of electricity wreathing the blade. With a guttural cry, he lunged forward. The electrified weapon pierced the beast's seemingly impenetrable hide, unleashing a thunderous shockwave that sent the creature hurtling through the reinforced wall.

Tiffany stared in awe as Celadon dropped to one knee, chest heaving. "Was that your Semblance?"

"Still got it," Celadon managed between ragged breaths, struggling to his feet.

They stepped through the shattered doorway, eyes widening at the chaos unfolding outside. Bullheads engaged in an aerial ballet with a colossal lightning charged bird, its talons shredding metal as if it were paper. Purple lightning arced between its feathers, striking the aircrafts' propellers and sending them spiraling earthward.

On the ground, armored trucks with mounted guns unleashed a barrage against wave after wave of grotesque Faunus. The creatures moved with unnatural speed and ferocity, shrugging off conventional rounds.

"We need to detonate the Paladins," Celadon said, his voice grim.

"What? Are you insane?"

"We're hundreds of miles from civilization. Polendina's been working on those Paladins. That's the only thing they can be after."

As Celadon reached for his communicator, a blur of motion caught their attention. A Specialist with rabbit-like ears joined the fray, her movements a dizzying display of acrobatics. She weaved between enemies, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

But even her skill wasn't enough. The Specialist found herself caught in a deadly pincer, trapped between the birds's diving assault and the sinuous coils of a large serpent Tiffany squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch the inevitable.

"What are we going to do?" he turned to Celadon, only to freeze in horror.

Celadon stood rigid, a look of shock etched on his face. A scarlet blade protruded from his stomach, gleaming with malevolent purpose. Celadon's shadow writhed and twisted, coalescing into a man with fiery red hair and a bone-white Grimm mask.

The newcomer twisted the blade, eliciting a groan of agony from Celadon. "I must thank you for the tour," he sneered. "Hiding in your shadow, watching you humans fumble about... it was nauseating, but informative."

Tiffany's rifle snapped up, the barrel trained on the bull Faunus's head.

A cruel smile played across the man's lips. "It's a pity you won't live to see your precious kingdom burn. But for now, this is the fate you've earned." He raised his hands, power radiating from his form. "Domain Expansion: Chimera Shadow Garden."

Darkness exploded outward from the man's feet like a tidal wave of ink. Tiffany squeezed the trigger, watching in disbelief as the rounds tore through the man's dissolving form. The bull Faunus melted into the encroaching shadows, his laughter echoing in the void.

Tiffany spun, watching in horror as dark creatures rose from the inky blackness. Soldiers screamed as shadowy tendrils dragged them under, their struggles futile against the nightmarish onslaught.

In the oppressive darkness, Tiffany caught a fleeting glimpse of piercing blue eyes. Time seemed to slow as he registered the crimson blade arcing towards him. Then, in a heartbeat, his world plunged into eternal night.

/-/Scene 2 Morning Training /-/

Jaune's eyes shot open, a brief moment of confusion washing over him as he took in the unfamiliar ceiling. Even with his blindfold on, he could perceive every small detail of the tiled roof above. Closing his eyes again, he allowed his powers to pour outward, sensing the life of his teammates in the beds around him.

His attention was drawn to Pyrrha's aura, which seemed to pool around her as she breathed in and out. Her aura is ready for combat even in her sleep? he wondered, fascinated. Shaking his head, he sat up carefully, using his real eyes to observe his surroundings.

Pyrrha lay bundled up in crimson sheets, a shade darker than her hair. Jaune raised a hand to his face, trying not to dwell on the fact that his idol was now his teammate. He exhaled slowly, centering himself.

Slipping out of bed, he carefully stepped to his right and avoided the pizza box from the Mistralian place he'd teleported to get last night. The memory of his teammates' amazement at his ability to bring back still-hot pizza from another kingdom brought a small smile to his face. Yet my curse energy reserves took a massive hit, he reminded himself. Qrow's voice echoed in his mind: "Always keep something extra in the tank."

Stepping into the red-carpeted hallway, Jaune resisted the urge to teleport as he navigated the labyrinthine layout. He finally reached the training room door, checking his scroll as he arrived.

A groan escaped him as reverse cursed technique filled his body. The last vestiges of tiredness in his muscles and bones melted away, replaced by a warmth that felt like slipping into a hot bath. The lingering brain fog dissipated, leaving him fully alert and at peak strength.

Pulling open the door, he let the cold air hit him. His mother stood waiting, her weapon at the ready, looking as if she'd been awake for hours.

"Hey, mom," Jaune called out.

She turned to face him. "Good morning, Jaune. I'm assuming you're ready?"

As she slipped into a fighting stance, Jaune nodded confidently. "Born ready."

Limitless flared outward, distorting the air around him as purple aura glowed. His mother's eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and challenge.

"We'll make today's session a quick one," she said, her tone both warm and determined.

Jaune grinned, settling into his own stance. Another day at Beacon was about to begin, but first, he had some family bonding to do.

/-/ Scene FLASHBACK: Lucky day /-/

Qrow clicked his tongue, the sharp sound cutting through the forest's ambient noise. His head tilted to the side, neck muscles tensing slightly as he focused his gaze on the clearing below. There, a young man with gold blonde hair stood motionless in the center, an island of stillness in the sea of rustling leaves.

A chill rolled down Qrow's spine as he watched the boy, causing him to shiver involuntarily. He shifted his weight against the tree trunk, the branch creaking in protest beneath him. Harbinger, his trusted weapon, rested heavily in his lap, its metallic surface cool against his thighs.

His calloused hands fumbled for the flask tucked away in his back pocket, fingers brushing against the worn leather of his pants. As he grasped the container, his thumb caught on something else – a small scythe charm, crudely cut and bound with school glue and construction paper. Another friendship bracelet from Ruby.

Qrow's movements stilled, his hand hovering over the flask. His head tilted to the right, ear pressing against his shoulder as he murmured, "She's 5 now. She's already beginning to look like her mother." The words hung in the air, barely audible above the whisper of the wind through the leaves.

Leaning back against the stiff bark, Qrow's eyes slowly closed. His facial muscles relaxed as memories washed over him: silver eyes beaming up at him, short red and black hair – which Summer swore she didn't dye – bristling in the wind. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, softening his usually stern features.

As Qrow's eyes fluttered open, the silver lip of the flask touched his lips. He paused, muscles tensing as his senses suddenly sharpened. A tree branch outside the clearing snapped under an unknown weight, the crack echoing through the forest like a gunshot.

In one fluid motion, Qrow's hand moved to rest on Harbinger's handle. The mechashift weapon's gears clicked and whirred as it smoothly transitioned into its scythe form, the sound barely audible but reassuring to its wielder.

Qrow's eyes darted down towards the clearing. The child stood there, seemingly oblivious to the potential threat. His small form moved in a curved, precise path, eyes focused on something invisible to Qrow. The huntsman's brow furrowed as he tried to discern the pattern in the boy's movements.

Shifting his weight, Qrow leaned forward, straining his eyes to peer into the thick brush surrounding the clearing. His mind wandered, a wry smirk playing across his lips as he considered the ramifications of the young boy being Ozpin's son. "So obviously the man isn't having a dry spell," Qrow thought, chuckling softly to himself.

Decision made, Qrow's feet now dangled from the tree branch. In one smooth motion, he dropped, his body twisting in the air to land in a half-crouch on a patch of grass below. His muscles coiled and released as he slunk towards the opening, each step calculated and silent.

"Maybe the kid can answer some questions," Qrow mused internally. Then, remembering who the boy's father was, he grimaced. "Knowing Oz, the kid will probably call me a fool in 14 different ways."

Straightening up, Qrow called out, his gravelly voice carrying across the clearing, "Hey kiddo. Don't you know there's Grimm around here?"

The child turned to face him, the movement unnaturally smooth for one so young. Qrow felt a jolt of surprise as blue diamond eyes focused on him, their intensity seeming to pierce right through him.

"Bird man," the boy stated matter-of-factly, his high-pitched voice at odds with the wisdom in his gaze.

Qrow chuckled, the sound a mixture of amusement and unease. "You recognize me?" he asked, taking a step forward, gravel crunching under his boot.

The kid nodded, his golden hair catching the sunlight filtering through the trees. "You talk to my dad a lot," he said noncommittally, his small hands clasping behind his back in a gesture eerily reminiscent of Ozpin.

Qrow took another step forward, leaves rustling beneath his feet as he closed the distance between them. His red eyes never left the boy's face, searching for... something. What exactly, he wasn't sure.

"So you probably know why we're out here then?" Qrow asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

The boy nodded, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "Mom's in Atlas preparing for the Vytal Festival there. Dad is in Mistral." His small hands clasped behind his back, mimicking a stance often seen in board rooms rather than forests.

"He told you to watch me, right?" Jaune's voice carried a note of resignation. The two exchanged a brief look, and Qrow could tell by the small curve of the boy's lip that he obviously wasn't too happy with the arrangement.

Qrow rubbed the back of his neck, his calloused hand rasping against stubble. Thoughts of Yang and Ruby flashed through his mind, a pang of empathy for the young boy before him.

Suddenly, Jaune's demeanor shifted. "Do you like ants?" he asked, blue eyes sparkling with unexpected enthusiasm.

Qrow smiled softly, shaking his head. "Never really think about them," he admitted.

The young boy nodded sagely. "Nobody does."

Without warning, Jaune raised his hands. Qrow felt the air around him ripple, an invisible force pulsing outward from the child. Instinctively, Qrow activated his aura, a shimmering red barrier flickering to life around him.

Jaune strode over, his small hand reaching out to grasp Qrow's larger one. The huntsman felt an strange energy curl around him, binding him to the spot. He turned to look down at the kid, a mixture of wariness and fascination in his eyes.

The boy raised his free hand, and an azure-colored orb swirled into existence above his palm. As if by magic, the ground beneath them began to shift. Patches of earth, attached by what looked like yarn made from dirt, rose from the soil. Small red specks crawled along these earthen strings, forming a complex network of tunnels that stretched like a three-dimensional spider's web.

Qrow squinted, leaning in for a closer look. "It's an ant colony," Jaune clarified, his voice tinged with pride.

Shaken from his stupor, Qrow found his voice. "How old are you?" he asked, unable to keep the awe from his tone.

"Seven," Jaune replied matter-of-factly.

Qrow let out a low whistle. "And already with a semblance? You are your pop's son," he stated, a newfound respect coloring his words.

"I'm Jaune," the boy offered, as if just remembering his manners.

"Qrow," the huntsman replied, his eyes never leaving the suspended colony.

They stood there in companionable silence, watching as the colony moved closer. Qrow observed an ant fall from the structure, seemingly trapped in the miasma like amber. It wiggled helplessly before being gently floated back to the suspended colony.

After a few minutes, Jaune carefully lowered the colony back into the ground. All that remained of the extraordinary display were a few pieces of dark, overturned soil.

Qrow cleared his throat, an idea forming. "So kid, what do you say we take a bit of a field trip?"

"Okay," Jaune replied, his tone neutral.

Qrow chuckled, shaking his head. "A bit too easy. You gotta have some style to you."

Jaune blinked twice, tilting his head upwards towards Qrow. "Style?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

The older man nodded, cracking a smile. "Your pops wanted me to teach you a bit about self-defense." Qrow rubbed the back of his knuckles against the stubble of his chin, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But I'm thinking, how often do you really get to kick back?"

"Kick back?" Jaune echoed, clearly unfamiliar with the phrase.

"Yeah, you work hard, you gotta play hard. What do you say we head into Vale?" Qrow suggested, his tone conspiratorial.

Jaune's brow furrowed. "I'm not supposed to go into Vale without Mom or Dad."

"Hey, would your mom and pop trust you with me if I couldn't keep you safe?" Qrow asked, shooting the kid a reassuring smile.

After a moment's consideration, Jaune smiled back. "I guess so," he conceded with a nod.

Suddenly, Jaune turned towards the forest, his posture straightening. "Blue," he said, his voice taking on an otherworldly quality.

Before Qrow could react, Jaune stuck his hand out. A massive ball of energy shot out from his palm, azure and glowing like a miniature storm. It crackled with lightning before shrinking down to a beam reminiscent of a plasma rifle. The energy lit up the darkened shadows of the forest, exploding into blinding light.

Qrow did a half-turn, eyes squinted against the sudden brightness. Through the glare, he watched as the outline of a Grimm appeared, only to be instantly obliterated as the light overtook it.

As the light faded, Qrow's eyes widened in disbelief. "My Gods," he breathed, staring at the smoldering ash that was all that remained of the Grimm.

He looked down at Jaune, the young boy's bright blue eyes hopeful and expectant. Qrow forced a smile, masking his shock. "Okay, rule for Vale," he said, his voice a mixture of awe and trepidation, "no doing that."

/-/

Jaune spread his stance wide, his small frame coiled like a spring. His blue eyes, sharp and focused, tracked Qrow's every movement as the older huntsman slid Harbinger into its sword configuration and placed it at the edge of the practice arena. The air crackled with tension as Qrow cracked his neck, a series of pops echoing in the room.

"Your semblance just activated," Jaune stated, his eyes flickering with an otherworldly perception.

Qrow's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh yeah? Think it'll matter?"

"I don't think so," Jaune replied, raising his fists.

In a blur of motion, Qrow charged. He feinted left, then spun right, using his momentum to launch into a aerial flip. His fist came down in a hammer blow, aimed at Jaune's head. The boy's hand shot up, catching the punch mere inches from his face. The impact sent shockwaves through Jaune's arm, but he held firm.

Anticipating a follow-up kick, Jaune raised his forearm. But Qrow had other plans. In a shimmer of feathers, he transformed mid-air. A crow slipped through Jaune's guard, its wings brushing the boy's cheek. Before Jaune could blink, Qrow rematerialized, his fist connecting solidly with Jaune's nose.

Pain flared, then vanished as cursed energy reenforced the nerves. He stumbled back, regaining his footing just as Qrow pressed his advantage with a flurry of jabs.

Jaune weaved and bobbed, his small size working to his advantage. He ducked under a wide hook, then surged forward. His foot connected with Qrow's calf, causing the huntsman to falter momentarily. Seizing the opening, Jaune darted inside Qrow's guard.

The boy's fist drove into Qrow's solar plexus, earning a surprised grunt. But Qrow recovered quickly, his larger frame twisting to deliver a sharp elbow to Jaune's ribs. The blow sent Jaune skidding across the floor, his feet leaving twin trails on the polished wood.

"You have to learn to fight without your shield," Qrow admonished, circling the boy like a predator.

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "I can fight without my shield," he insisted, his voice steely with determination.

They clashed again, a whirlwind of strikes and counters. Jaune caught Qrow's roundhouse kick on his forearm, the impact nearly buckling his knees. He retaliated with a series of quick jabs, forcing Qrow to backpedal.

Qrow's semblance flickered to life, causing Jaune to stumble on a suddenly uneven floorboard. The huntsman capitalized, grabbing Jaune's outstretched arm and using the boy's momentum against him. In a dizzying sequence, Jaune found himself airborne, then slammed onto his back, the wind knocked from his lungs.

"You fight like shit," Qrow critiqued, offering a hand to help Jaune up. "Too clean, not enough dirt."

Jaune accepted the hand, his mind racing. "What do you mean?"

Qrow's expression softened slightly. "You're fighting like it's a textbook, kid. Real fights are messy. Unpredictable." To demonstrate, he feinted a jab, then suddenly dropped low, sweeping Jaune's legs out from under him.

As Jaune hit the ground again, Qrow continued, "You need to be agile, play dirty. Use your environment." He gestured around the room. "Everything's a weapon if you're creative enough."

Jaune's eyes lit up with understanding. He scrambled to his feet, this time adopting a looser stance. When Qrow came at him again, Jaune was ready. He dodged the initial punch, then grabbed a handful of sawdust from the splintered floorboard, flinging it at Qrow's face.

The huntsman blinked in surprise, his guard dropping for a split second. Jaune capitalized, driving his knee into Qrow's thigh and following up with a palm strike to the solar plexus.

Qrow staggered back, a mix of pain and pride on his face. "Now you're getting it," he grinned, before launching into another series of attacks.

The sparring session continued, each exchange more intense than the last. Jaune learned to use the arena to his advantage, vaulting off walls, using discarded training equipment as impromptu weapons, and even mimicking Qrow's feints to create openings.

By the end, both were breathing heavily, sweat glistening on their brows. Jaune's clothes were disheveled, small tears evidence of near-misses and glancing blows. Qrow's usually immaculate cape was askew, and he nursed what would likely become a impressive bruise on his jaw.

"Not bad, kid," Qrow admitted, "You're learning. But remember, in a real fight, it's not about looking good or following rules. It's about survival."

Qrow's demeanor shifted. His red eyes, usually sharp with alertness, now held a glimmer of something deeper - a mixture of hard-earned wisdom and barely concealed pain.

"Let me show you something, kid," Qrow said, his gravelly voice low and serious. He pointed to his stomach, two fingers indicating a spot just below his ribcage. "This is the liver. Or what's left of mine," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Jaune's bright blue eyes focused intently on the area, his gaze seeming to peer beyond the surface. To his surprise, despite Qrow's words, the man's liver appeared unusually healthy.

Qrow continued, unaware of Jaune's observations. "Thing is, in a fight, the human body can't take many hits there. The body's aura will instinctively reinforce weak points, but you get a few solid shots on the liver at the beginning of the fight, and you can gain a significant advantage, even in a simple spar."

Jaune nodded, absorbing the information with a maturity beyond his years.

"Second off," Qrow said, his tone growing more intense, "the goal in a serious fight isn't to break the opponent's aura - it's to cause as much pain as possible." He paused, gauging Jaune's reaction before continuing. "Aura can block damage, but small injuries might not register to an untrained eye. A small bruise or cut here or there can slowly overwhelm an enemy and distract them."

Qrow's eyes seemed to cloud over for a moment, lost in some distant memory. "During a hangover, just having too much sound and light can take most people out. Now imagine taking a haymaker to the jaw, then having to deal with your brain overloading from dozens of cuts and impacts everywhere."

Jaune's brow furrowed, a conflict evident in his young face. "Dad says that I shouldn't fight like that. It's wrong," he said, his voice small but firm.

Qrow sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Fighting dirty isn't wrong, kid. Sucker punches and cheap shots aren't classy, sure, but a well-placed hit can stop a fight before it even starts. And sometimes, that's what you need to do to survive."

The huntsman's gaze fell to Jaune's hands, noticing the way they clenched and unclenched unconsciously. "You're angry. And that's good, but being consumed by that can affect your thinking in battle. Your instincts can take you far, and channeling that anger can help you win. But the moment your emotions cloud your judgment, you're as good as dead."

Qrow moved forward, placing a calloused hand on Jaune's head. His voice softened, taking on an almost paternal tone. "And find something worth fighting for. Saying you're fighting for your family or your country can only take you so far. Find something worth dying for. And work backwards from there."

Jaune tilted his head, golden locks shifting minutely under Qrow's hand. His blue eyes, wide with curiosity and a touch of confusion, met Qrow's. "Like a dream?" he asked, his voice filled with innocent hope.

Qrow's expression flickered, a mix of emotions crossing his face too quickly for Jaune to decipher. He chuckled dryly, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "No, dreams aren't real, kid. You live the dream, and by the time most people realize it, the dream will already be over."

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Qrow's words hanging in the air. After a moment, the huntsman seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. "Let's go get some food," he said abruptly, turning away and sliding Harbinger back onto his back.

/-/Scene FLASHBACK: Weak /-/

Adam Taurus slammed back-first into the ground, a shrill groan escaping his lungs. His aura flared, desperately trying to heal the bruises blossoming across his ribs. The concrete beneath the training mat cracked under Sienna Khan's boot as she loomed over him.

The tiger Faunus, right hand of Ghira Belladonna, cracked her whip. The Dust-infused rope coiled around her forearm as her sharpened nails clutched the handle. "Get up!" she growled, her voice a mixture of command and challenge.

Adam struggled to his feet, hand slamming against the mat for leverage. His bruised legs trembled as he fought to steady himself.

"Your stance is wrong!" Sienna's whip lashed out, cracking the air. Its tip smacked the floor mere inches from Adam's foot. He twisted his ankle, lurching forward with a wild, downward swing.

Sienna slipped past him, her tail moving like a third arm. It wrapped around Adam's wrist, yanking him off-balance. A kick to his back sent him stumbling, his aura gleaming as it absorbed the blow.

Adam spun, trapping Sienna's foot under his arm. He pulled, throwing her off-balance, and hammered his fist into her dark, toned calf. A groan escaped him as he pressed his advantage, slamming his fist down again.

Sienna's other knee bent. She leaped, twisting in the air. Her free leg snaked around Adam's neck, pulling him down into a vicious leg lock. They crashed to the ground, Adam gasping for air.

"Better!" Sienna grinned, tightening her hold. Adam's breaths grew shallow, panic rising in his chest. "Submit!" she ordered.

But Adam thrashed wildly, refusing to yield. Sienna twisted, the threat of a fatal neck snap hanging in the air. Suddenly, she screamed as Adam's teeth sank into her calf, her focus shattering.

Adam's throat burned as he coughed and wheezed. With trembling arms, he pressed against the ground. Slowly, impossibly, he began to rise, lifting Sienna off the mat through sheer force of will.

His hands pried at her legs, fighting against both skin and aura. A hoarse roar built in his chest as his fingernails dug in, refusing to let go, refusing to submit.

"That's enough!"

Sienna's muscles went slack as she released her hold. With a graceful cartwheel, she landed on her knees, hand over her heart. Adam turned, teeth gritted, raising his hand to strike.

"Adam!"

The young man's mind cleared instantly. He turned towards the newcomer, bright blue eyes meeting amber ones. Ghira Belladonna stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, leveling a stern glare at the two.

Adam fell to his knees, wincing as his bruises protested. "Chief Belladonna," he said quietly, adjusting the dark cloth covering his scar.

Ghira approached, and Adam tensed, flinching as a hand was raised. But the touch was gentle, flattening out his red hair.

"Kali told you to rest today," Ghira said softly, his face tightening as Adam trembled beneath his touch.

"I asked Miss Khan to train me," Adam explained.

Ghira turned to Sienna. "Is this true?"

"I found him training with Andhera Gullab. He'd taken it from the house and was using it on a dummy," Sienna reported.

Fear rose in Adam's soul as both gazes landed on him. "Is that true?" Ghira asked.

Adam hesitated. "It is, Chief Belladonna."

Ghira nodded, placing a steadying hand on Adam's shoulder. "If you wish to train with it, I'll teach you. But that old blade needs sharpening. It's a fossil." He pulled Adam to his feet. "Why do you wish to learn to fight, Adam?"

The boy looked down, fists clenched. "I want to be stronger."

"There are ways to be strong without fighting, Adam."

Adam's eyes remained fixed on the floor. "I want to become strong to join the White Fang."

Ghira frowned, shaking his head. "Go home and get clean. Pray Kali doesn't eat you alive; she was insistent on you getting well." A lump formed in Adam's throat as Ghira patted his back. "Blake, can you take him home?"

Blake, standing near the door, nodded. Adam followed her, feeling self-conscious under her gaze. She grabbed his hand, pulling him along, her eyes finding new bruises with each glance back.

"I thought you said you'd stay in bed!" she grumbled.

Adam shook his head. "I can't just stay in bed all day. Sienna said my aura will heal me."

Blake turned back, her grip tightening. "Not if you're hitting it all the time! The more you use your aura, the longer it'll take for you to get well."

"I'm sorry." Blake pouted, her cheeks puffing out. Adam felt the urge to chuckle, resisting the impulse to poke her cheeks.

"Do you think Chief Belladonna is angry?" Adam asked.

Blake shook her head. "Dad's just worried. You look like you've been beaten and robbed by a kitten." She pointed to the three claw marks on Adam's neck. He winced, covering the stinging wound.

"You've just started settling in. You need to get used to a normal life," Blake said, pulling Adam out of the way of a handcart.

They walked through the village, surrounded by wooden houses and market stalls. Faunus of all kinds passed by, some waving at Blake, others giving Adam pitying looks. He noticed a few older women eyeing him oddly.

"This isn't normal," Adam commented, watching children kick a ball around the street.

"Well, it's how things should be," Blake replied, pulling him along.

/-/

/-/Scene 3: Bonding time/-/

/-/

Reverse cursed energy surged through Jaune's face, concentrating around his broken nose. With a series of sickening cracks, the cartilage and bone shifted, realigning itself into its proper position. Purple aura, shimmering like gossamer threads, ensnared his arms. Jaune's muscles, reinforced with cursed energy, strained against the telekinetic bonds.

A wide grin spread across Jaune's face as his left hand flashed through a complex hand seal. A sphere of azure energy coalesced in his palm, smaller than usual but crackling with potential. He launched it towards Glynda, who attempted to sidestep the attack. The orb's gravitational pull tugged at her, disrupting her stance and breaking her concentration.

In that split second of vulnerability, Jaune vanished. He reappeared in a burst of speed, fists raised in a boxer's stance. His jabs flew towards Glynda Goodwitch, who deftly caught each blow with her riding crop. The air between them ignited with each impact, Jaune's fists colliding against the deceptively sturdy weapon.

Glynda's movements were a testament to years of experience, each block executed with fluid precision. She spun backwards, her crop cutting a horizontal arc through the air. Jaune responded by launching himself skyward, flipping in a graceful somersault.

Mid-rotation, Jaune's fist shot towards Glynda's midsection. At the last moment, he feinted, his other hand unleashing a burst of blue energy that connected with her riding crop. The weapon flew from Glynda's grasp, spinning end over end across the room.

Jaune's free hand halted mere inches from Glynda's throat, hovering there as he landed softly on the ground. His hair settled around his face, framing a triumphant smile.

Glynda's emerald eyes narrowed, her voice calm but tinged with frustration. "You hesitate. There were multiple opportunities to end the fight decisively, yet you didn't take them."

Jaune shrugged, his posture relaxing. "Come on, Mom. I'm not going to sucker punch you in a sparring match."

Glynda shook her head, golden locks swaying with the motion. "That's not what I mean. A quick burst of blue, followed by a teleport behind your opponent and a strike to the back of the head - that's a simple and effective takedown."

Jaune raised his hand, staring into his palm as if seeing something beyond. "It's just practice. I don't want to approach every fight like it's life or death. Can't I have a little fun with it?"

Glynda sighed, her eyes closing momentarily. "Fun has nothing to do with it. If you're ever in a situation where your life is on the line, I don't want you to hesitate-"

"Mom, it's okay," Jaune interrupted, his voice softening. "I get it. If it's life or death, I'll do what I have to." He stepped closer, resting a hand on Glynda's shoulder. "But it's not going to come to that."

As he spoke, a familiar radiance washed over them both - the unmistakable aura of infinity. Jaune let it linger for a moment before stepping away, heading towards the main door.

"After all," he said, pausing at the threshold, "I'm the strongest." With that, he stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

The endless expanse of white wallpaper blurred into a monotonous stream as Jaune retraced his steps to his room. His scroll buzzed with messages from Nora and Ren, their breakfast plans lighting up the screen. A thought flickered through his mind: "Maybe I should get Ruby's number too."

A smile tugged at Jaune's lips beneath his blindfold as he imagined Ruby's peppy reaction to getting a boys number. Qrow's gruff warning echoed in his memory: "Put the moves on Ruby, and I'll slice you in half." Jaune stifled a chuckle, dismissing the notion. "As if that could happen."

As he rounded the corner, his senses picked up a solitary crimson aura emanating from a nearby room. Steeling himself, Jaune squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. He eased the door open to find Pyrrha still draped in her crimson silk pajamas, her signature circlet absent and her hair a cascade of untamed scarlet.

"Good morning," Jaune said, his voice steady despite the awkward wave of his hand. Pyrrha's emerald eyes struggled to focus, still heavy with the vestiges of sleep. Jaune etched the image of the disheveled champion into his memory, fighting the urge to laugh at the sight of Remnant's' Invincible Girl' resembling a drowsy kitten.

Composing himself, Jaune spoke again, this time with a touch of warmth in his voice. "I was thinking, since classes kick off on Monday, you might need to pick up a few things beforehand."

Pyrrha tilted her head, managing a confused "Hmm?" as she tried to process his words.

Jaune bit back another chuckle, masking it as a cough. He rephrased, adopting a more casual tone, "Ren and Nora have already headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. But I thought you might like to join me for a little excursion to Vale? It could be a good chance for us to get acquainted, being partners and all."

Pyrrha blinked, her mind gradually clearing the fog of sleep. "What time does the bullhead leave?"

"We're not taking an bullhead," Jaune replied, a hint of mischief in his smile. "Just trust me on this one. I'll wait outside while you get ready."

Jaune stepped into the hallway, leaning against the wall as he watched a bird meticulously construct its nest on the rooftop. Minutes ticked by before Pyrrha emerged, clad in her usual armor, her weapon notably absent.

"So, how exactly are we getting to Vale?" she inquired, curiosity lacing her voice.

Jaune extended his hand, palm up. "If you would, please take my hand. It's part of my Semblance."

Pyrrha hesitated, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. As her fingers intertwined with his, the world around them suddenly warped and stretched. Galaxies and stars wove intricate patterns in the fabric of reality as the universe bent to Jaune's will.

When the world solidified once more, Pyrrha found herself seated in a photo booth, Jaune beside her. She stumbled out, fighting the rising tide of nausea.

"Don't worry, it affects everyone that way at first," Jaune said, awkwardly patting her back as she struggled to regain her composure.

"What... what in Remnant was that?" Pyrrha gasped, slowly straightening up.

Jaune shifted, a hint of discomfort in his posture. "My Semblance. It allows me to teleport myself and anyone in physical contact with me. The side effects are... less than ideal, I'm afraid."

"So, breakfast?" he offered, attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters.

Pyrrha cleared her throat, her voice still shaky. "I think I'll pass on food for the moment, if you don't mind."

"How about we take a stroll then?" Jaune suggested. "Have you had the chance to explore Vale before?"

Pyrrha's eyes swept across the expansive mall around them. "I've been on official tours, but never for personal enjoyment."

A flicker of sadness crossed Jaune's face. "What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

Pyrrha pondered for a moment. "Usually, I spend my spare time training. But I do have a fondness for visiting the zoo when I'm in Mistral."

Jaune's expression brightened behind his blindfold. "An animal lover, I know just the place you might enjoy, but... I'm guessing another teleport is out of the question?"

Pyrrha shook her head emphatically. "Walking would be preferable, thank you!"

As they meandered through the mall, Pyrrha's gaze was drawn to billboards plastered with her image, advertising everything from weapons to cereal. "Jaune?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Were you familiar with who I am before we met?"

Jaune nodded. "I doubt there's a soul on Remnant who hasn't heard the name Pyrrha Nikos."

Pyrrha's shoulders slumped slightly. "Does that... intimidate you?"

Jaune shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I remember your cameo in that Pumpkin Pete cartoon. You were adorably nervous trying to teach fire safety to an animated rabbit." He chuckled softly. "Intimidation isn't really in my vocabulary. To me, strength is just a trait, like hair color. It's how people wield it that matters. You don't seem the type to lord your abilities over others, so in my book, you're pretty great."

The pair walked in companionable silence for a while. Jaune let limitless envelop his body, his shield invisible yet ever-present as people unconsciously moved around them. His eyes lingered on Pyrrha as they conversed, but suddenly, he felt something brush against his infinity, nearly slipping through. Jaune whipped around, his gaze landing on a figure with dark grey hair disappearing into the crowd.

He glanced at his hand, noticing that limitless took a moment longer to fully encompass him. The air seemed to charge as his cursed energy poured outwards.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha's concerned voice broke through his thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

Jaune shook his head, composing himself. "No, just thought I bumped into someone," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

As they continued their journey, the pristine streets of Vale gradually gave way to a grittier landscape. The architecture shifted, eastern Mistrali influences becoming more prominent in the weathered buildings. Pyrrha instinctively moved closer to Jaune as curious eyes followed their progress.

"Where exactly are we going?" she asked, a hint of unease in her voice.

Jaune raised a hand, pointing towards a distant warehouse. "There. My teacher used to bring me here on field trips."

Pyrrha's eyebrows shot up, clearly disturbed by this revelation.

As they approached, several young men in black jackets adorned with golden dragon motifs watched them intently. "Hey, Kenzo!" Jaune called out, receiving a small wave from one of the men. Pyrrha didn't miss the glint of a concealed weapon in the man's jacket.

Finally reaching the warehouse, Jaune held the door open. As they stepped inside, Pyrrha flinched at the sudden eruption of cheers. Jaune guided her around a corner and up a flight of stairs, the cacophony growing louder with each step.

"Where are we?" Pyrrha asked, her voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.

Jaune grinned. "Welcome to the pig races."

Pyrrha shot him a bewildered look. "The what?"

"In Vale, horse racing is illegal, but pig races aren't. So, some enterprising individuals decided to make things a bit more... interesting," Jaune explained, leaning against the railing.

Pyrrha joined him, her eyes widening as they fell upon a series of stalls. Squeals and excited yells filled the air. Seemingly out of nowhere, Jaune produced a box of popcorn, offering it to her. She accepted it hesitantly, her attention fixed on the spectacle below.

"GO!" The stalls burst open, and to Pyrrha's astonishment, pigs ridden by small monkeys in brightly colored, numbered shirts charged onto the track. The unlikely jockeys clung to their porcine steeds as they thundered around the circular course in a chaotic, hilarious race.

Pyrrha watched, slack-jawed, as one of the monkeys tumbled from its mount. Undeterred, the tiny jockey chased after its pig, waving a miniature baseball cap in frustration.

As the leading pig crossed the finish line to raucous cheers, Pyrrha blinked twice, struggling to process the bizarre scene. "What in Remnant did I just witness?" she murmured, a mixture of shock and amusement in her voice.

Jaune chuckled, clearly enjoying Pyrrha's reaction. "Welcome to Vale's underground entertainment, partner. Sometimes the most unexpected things can be the most fun."

Pyrrha found herself laughing despite her initial bewilderment. As she watched the next race begin, she realized that Jaune was a bit warmer less professional. It was strange, perhaps a little unsavory, but undeniably exciting.

"You know," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I think I might actually enjoy betting on the one with the polka-dot jockey."

Jaune's grin widened. "Now you're getting into the spirit! Let's see if your champion skills translate to picking winning pigs."