Author Note: Hi. Been sick with 105 degrees of Dengue Fever for more than two weeks. Been in hospital for days. Platelets were ridiculously low. Still got grave rashes as scars.

Yay, I am a veteran patient now.

Anyways, my hand is stiff and I am uploading this chapter— something I wrote before getting sick.

Hope you enjoy it.

~Phoenix.

—X~X—

"Oh, my brother? Jaune Arc?" One of Jaune's little sisters leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms like she was about to drop the most legendary story of the century. "He was... 'the' man. No, really. People talk about heroes, warriors, scholars—but Jaune? He was on another level. Like, beyond human understanding."

She nodded, very matter-of-factly, as if the truth of her statement was absolute. "His knowledge ran 'deep'. Real deep. He had a way of seeing the world that, honestly, I think most people just couldn't handle. Me? I was lucky. I got a glimpse into the vast depths of his genius. Like, there was this one time I overheard him playing a game, y'know? Over the mic, talking to his team."

Her eyes widened in admiration, like she was about to unveil some holy revelation. "He was... uh, what's the word? 'Unleashing' this string of the most profound words I've ever heard in my life. Stuff like, 'You're trash! Get good!' and 'My grandma moves faster than you, and she's dead!' I couldn't even comprehend it at first. I was sitting there, thinking—wow. Is this some kind of revolutionary speech? Some coded message to his comrades in arms?"

She sighed, lost in the memory. "I mean, his vocabulary was so enriched. He'd use words like 'scrub' and 'noob' that were clearly beyond my level of understanding at the time. But I knew... I knew it was something deep. You don't just say 'lagging piece of garbage' unless you're fighting a bigger battle, y'know?"

The girl leaned in closer, as if letting everyone in on a top-tier secret. "And when he ran away from home, I thought to myself, 'oh', he's going to Beacon Academy! Gonna become a huntsman like the rest of 'em, right? But, haha—'foolish', foolish me. Of course, he wouldn't waste his time with that 'petty' business! He had 'bigger' goals. The man was thinking on a higher plane. I should've known better."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Beacon? Pshh, what's that compared to Jaune declaring war on the whole damn Remnant? Yeah, that's right. He declared war! On what, you ask? 'Everything'. The system, the government, the Grimm, maybe even breakfast cereal for all I know! But whatever it was, it was important."

Her eyes sparkled with pride. "I didn't even need to understand it. Jaune said it was bad, and that's all I needed to know. I remember supporting him wholeheartedly, even when the police came to question me. They were like, 'Miss, do you know the whereabouts of Jaune Arc?' And I was all like, 'Of course not! He's too brilliant to be pinned down by your mortal hands!'"

She leaned back in her chair, smirking as if she had just outsmarted the entire police force. "They didn't get it. They were, like, so basic. I tried explaining how Jaune was out there, fighting injustice. In what form, I didn't know—could've been anything. Could've been someone stealing his favorite snack, or some global conspiracy. Either way, he was fighting for 'us'."

Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "And then, a few days before his legendary debut on social media? Oh yeah, he called me up. Said, 'Sis, I need you to do something for me.' And I was like, 'Anything, bro. You know I got your back.' He said, 'Delete my browser history. Don't ask questions.'"

She paused, letting the weight of those words settle in. "I didn't ask. I didn't even 'peek'. Because I knew—whatever was in that history? It wasn't for my eyes. No, no. It was for the 'greater good'. Sensitive information, 'top-secret stuff'. Probably had to do with his war efforts. Or, like, how to dismantle corrupt governments or something."

With a look of utmost seriousness, she added, "I did it, too. Deleted every last trace. And just in time, too, 'cause the cops came not long after, trying to snoop around. But they didn't find anything, 'cause I did my part in Jaune's mission. Kept that history 'safe'. Not that they'd understand the brilliance behind it."

She smiled, almost smug. "It's been years since then. Jaune's gone on to do 'great' things. Created a whole new society, one where we don't bow to anyone. And honestly? I'm just grateful. Grateful that my brother trusted me with such important work. Grateful for the vision he had. Grateful for the 'legend' that is Jaune Arc."

She leaned back again, her grin wide. "So, yeah. You can all thank me later. I helped save the world. Browser history? More like 'history in the making'."

—The Bloody Erection of Jaune Arc

by 'Nexo'.

—X~X—

Blake stood in the dimly lit room, the smell of damp stone and sewer muck clinging to the air. She glanced at the ragtag crew—'her crew' now, though she could barely believe it. The members of the White Fang eyed her with varying degrees of respect, confusion, and what looked suspiciously like boredom. This was not how she envisioned coming back to her roots. But here she was.

"So, you're the group?" Blake asked, folding her arms across her chest, her voice carrying a quiet authority. "I was wondering... What happened to the others? The ones I worked with before?"

There was a pause, the silence heavy. They knew who she meant. Adam's crew—people she used to trust. People she'd fought alongside before everything went south.

"They're all dead," the only woman in the group spoke up, her voice sharp and detached. The tigress Faunus, Fu, didn't mince her words. Her striped fur glistened slightly in the low light as she glanced at Blake with amber eyes that carried no warmth.

Blake's eyes widened. "All of them?"

"Yeah," grunted Jake, the boar Faunus, his voice as rough as the tusks protruding from his lower lip. His broad, muscle-bound form took up more space than it should have. "Adam got 'em all killed."

Blake swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She had expected something like this but hearing it out loud hit her harder than she thought it would. It felt like another reminder of just how far Adam had fallen. She cleared her throat, pushing aside the sinking feeling in her chest.

"Alright, let's start with introductions." She gestured toward them, trying to gather some semblance of order. "I need to know who I'm dealing with."

The cheetah Faunus was the first to speak. "Han," he said proudly, his yellow eyes glinting. He was tall, lean, and clearly one of the younger members—though the oversized muscles on his arms showed he was eager to prove himself. "Fastest in the crew. I'm talkin' blink and you miss me fast, ya know? Been takin' out human patrols for fun."

Blake nodded slowly. A rookie, but full of energy. Maybe too much.

Next was Jake, who scratched his side absently, looking every bit the wall of muscle he was. "Jake. I hit stuff real good." His tusks gleamed in the faint light, and his wide snout flared slightly as he spoke, his small eyes giving off a lazy but dangerous vibe. "Like… real good."

Blake blinked. "Good to know."

Then came Henri, a goat Faunus who couldn't seem to stop twitching. His horns were a little uneven, and his hooves clicked lightly on the stone floor as he shifted nervously. "Henri," he said, voice shaky, his eyes darting around the room. "I, uh, I'm good with… with traps. I… set them. I mean, I can set them." His hands fidgeted in front of him as though he was already tinkering with something in his mind.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Right. Good with traps."

Finally, Fu introduced herself, standing tall and calm, though her sharp gaze hinted at a constant state of readiness. "Fu," she said simply. "I'm the brains of the operation. Or what's left of it, anyway." Her tail swished behind her, the only sign that she was as on edge as the others. "Someone has to think for these idiots."

Blake couldn't help but feel a pang of relief. At least one of them seemed competent. She nodded and took a deep breath. "Blake Belladonna," she said, her voice a touch more steady than before. "I'm your new leader… I guess."

"Awesome! Time to kill some humans!" Han cheered, his fists pumping in the air, his excitement almost infectious—if it wasn't so, well, 'psychotic.'

"I'm your 'temporary' leader," Blake added quickly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Which means I have one mission with you. After that, we'll see."

"Kill Jaune Arc," Fu said flatly, clearly having little patience for Han's over-the-top enthusiasm.

Blake nodded slowly. "Yeah… but not before squeezing information out of him first."

"Ooooh!" Jake grinned, his tusks gleaming in the low light. "Like a sponge! I like it!"

Blake frowned. "Not like a sponge—"

"Like a soaked cloth?" Jake offered, his grin widening. "We could twist 'em good!"

"I mean—"

"Like a—"

Blake sighed heavily, her frustration mounting. First five minutes and she was already regretting this. "We're not squeezing him 'literally,' Jake."

Fu, rubbing her temples like this was a regular occurrence, spoke up. "Instead of squeezing, how about we just 'pull' the info out of him?"

Blake shot Fu a sidelong glance. "Or maybe not."

She took another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. "Okay, fine. Let's focus. Do any of you have actual plans for the future?"

The group stared at her blankly. Then, almost in unison, they shook their heads.

Of course. No plans. Blake pinched the bridge of her nose. 'Fantastic.'

"Alright, fine. We'll work on that." She crossed her arms again. "How much Dust do we have? Or money?"

The group exchanged glances, a little too shifty for Blake's liking.

"Uh, well… about that…" Han began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "We, uh… spent most of it."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "On what?"

Jake, completely oblivious to her growing frustration, grinned. "You know, the essentials. I got this awesome new club! It's got spikes on it! Real big ones!"

"I got night-vision goggles," Henri mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "But… uh… I'm scared of the dark, so…"

"You're scared of the dark and you bought night-vision goggles?"

"I thought they'd help…" he muttered.

"They aren't that expensive." Blake muttered. "Not a problem, but—"

"Actually," Henri gulped. "I…uh, accidentally ordered 1000 night vision goggles. So…"

Blake's mouth fell open. "What?!"

"I tried to stop them," Fu said, crossing her arms. "But they kept saying Adam never gave them rewards, so they figured they 'deserved it.'" She practically spat the last part out.

Blake looked around at them in disbelief. "How much do we have left?"

Han put a finger on his chin, as if deep in thought. "Enough to buy a holiday special pizza?"

Blake's face went blank. She exhaled slowly, barely able to contain the exasperation welling up inside her. "I'm doomed."

—X~X—

Jaune was sweating bullets, like a guilty kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Someone knocked on the front door of the hut—knocked, for crying out loud. And it wasn't like they lived in some fancy suburban house with a white picket fence. This was a run-down, borderline-shack of a place that probably shouldn't even have a door to knock on.

His heart? Racing faster than a squirrel on espresso. He was stuck in the middle of the living room, frozen in place like a deer in headlights. No escape plan, no backup. Nowhere to run unless he wanted to dive through a window and risk getting sliced by shattered glass—or worse, getting caught. And if they 'were' cops at the door? Yeah, he'd be toast. Crispy, burnt toast.

"Ben, dear," Casine's soft voice drifted from the beat-up old couch, where she was hunched over, knitting something that looked like a lumpy sweater for winter. She didn't even glance up, her blind eyes still staring at nothing in particular, like she had no idea her 'Ben' was about two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. "Why don't you see who it is?"

See who it is? Yeah, right. His stomach did a flip. What if it was the police? Worse—what if it was a Huntsman? Or—oh man, what if it was some nosy neighbor who recognized his face from one of those 'Wanted' posters plastered all over town? Yeah, not good. Definitely not good.

"I'll get it," Billy suddenly said, standing up from his creaky chair. He was glaring daggers at Jaune. That look, the one that screamed 'Hide your dumb ass, NOW,' was enough to set Jaune into motion.

Like a cartoon character on fast forward, Jaune spun on his heel and booked it to the only safe space left—the bathroom. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he squeezed into the tiny room, slamming the door behind him. 'Hide, hide, hide'—that was the only thought swirling in his head.

The bathroom was barely bigger than a closet, and definitely not the kind of place you'd want to spend an extended amount of time. But for now? It was his sanctuary. Leaning against the cold sink, Jaune's hands trembled. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he was sure it could be heard through the paper-thin walls. He strained his ears, trying to catch whatever was going on at the front door.

From his hiding spot, Jaune heard the front door creak open. Muffled voice of Billy followed. Billy was talking to someone, saying something about… apples? 'Apples?' What the hell did apples have to do with anything right now? His life was on the line, and Billy was out there chatting about fruit like it was some kind of farmer's market transaction.

Jaune's brows furrowed in confusion. The conversation died down, and soon, the front door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the entire hut.

Cautiously, Jaune peeked his head out of the bathroom, like a groundhog checking for its shadow. Seeing that the coast was clear, he tiptoed back into the living room.

"What did they want?" Jaune asked, trying his best to sound casual, like he hadn't just been hiding in the bathroom sweating buckets. But his voice cracked, betraying his nerves.

Billy shot him a glare that could melt steel. His arms were crossed, looking like he was about to lecture Jaune for a whole different set of reasons. "I promised to bring them a dozen apples from the woods," he grumbled. "Apparently, some criminal's on the loose, and now the authorities won't let anyone into the forest. There's a curfew."

Jaune flinched. 'Ouch.' That was definitely because of him. His heart sank into his shoes. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Oh. That, uh, sounds rough."

"But why apples?" Jaune blurted, completely confused. What was the big deal with apples anyway? He wasn't about to get caught over some damn fruit.

"Food," Casine chimed in softly, not bothering to look up from her sewing. Her hands moved rhythmically, working the needle through the wool. "And medicine."

"Wait, what?" Jaune blinked. He had no clue what she was talking about now. Apples? Medicine? Was this some kind of rural remedy he wasn't aware of?

Casine sighed, the weight of the world in that little sound. "While you were gone, dear," she began, her tone calm, almost too calm, "we fell into a lot of debt. Your father brings fruits from the forest. He sells them to the neighbors, and they give us food and medicine in return."

"Can't they just get 'em themselves?" Jaune wondered aloud. "And as far I know, there is no scarcity of apples in vale. Didn't you ever ask them why? What's their name?"

"It's always this girl with weird hair— Neo-something. Donno more than that," Billy shrugged. "They pay for the job. Works for us,"

Jaune stared at her, his brain short-circuiting. 'Debt?' 'Selling fruit?' 'Surviving on apples and bartering?' This was some next-level survival nonsense. His guilt punched him right in the gut. They were struggling, scraping by, all because he'd left them in the lurch. It was his fault, wasn't it? They were out here, risking everything, while he—

Without thinking, he blurted, "I'll help!"

Billy snapped his head towards him, looking like he'd just been told the moon was made of cheese. "What?"

Jaune's eyes widened. 'Shit! What did I just say?' His hero instinct had kicked in again. Stupid, stupid hero instinct. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut for once?

"I, uh, I mean—uh…" He scrambled to backpedal. "It's nothing, I just—" His brain was failing him, but it didn't matter now. The damage was done. He glanced nervously between Billy and Casine. Both of them were staring at him like he'd just offered them the last slice of pizza in the universe.

Their eyes were so full of hope. Dammit. 'Why do they have to look so hopeful?!'

"I'll get you some fruits," Jaune declared, though he was mentally screaming at himself to stop. His damn mouth was running on autopilot. "Yeah. Some apples, uh, from the forest."

Billy's brow furrowed, his arms crossing even tighter over his chest. "There's a curfew, you know." His voice was hard, leaving the unspoken 'because of 'you'' hanging in the air.

Jaune swallowed hard. "I'll be fine," he muttered, though his confidence was slipping faster than butter on a hot skillet. "I think."

"Ben, dear," Casine's voice was soft and soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Her eyes turned in his direction, though they didn't see him. "You don't need to do this. We'll manage."

Jaune's heart twisted in his chest. 'It's my fault.' If it weren't for him, Billy wouldn't be stuck here, unable to get apples because of some stupid curfew put in place to catch 'him'. "No, I… I have to," he said, his voice firmer now. It was the least he could do, right? "I'll be back in a flash, I promise."

"Ben—" Casine began to protest, but Jaune had already made up his mind. His feet were moving before his brain could catch up.

"I'll be fine!" he called over his shoulder, with a bravado that even he didn't believe. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold night, slamming it shut behind him with way more force than necessary.

The air was biting, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. Jaune shivered, hugging his arms around himself as he looked around. The streets were deserted. Silent. Not a soul in sight. 'No cops, no Huntsmen.' So far, so good.

But if anyone saw him…

'I need a disguise,' he thought, glancing down at his own clothes. His sisters always joked that he looked like a manly girl, right? Maybe he could—

Before that thought could even settle, a strange sensation rippled through his skin. It started as a tingling, then quickly ramped up into a full-blown 'what-the-hell-is-happening-to-me' moment. He smelt like herbal paste had engulfed him for a fraction of a second.

"What the fuck—?!" Jaune whispered, his voice sounding weirdly different. He glanced down at his hands—except, they weren't his hands anymore. They were… smaller. More delicate. His whole body felt off. His clothes hung loosely on him, and when he looked down, he realized he was shorter. Like, a 'lot' shorter.

Panicking, Jaune stumbled toward a nearby window, desperate to see what was happening to him. His heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw the reflection staring back at him.

"Lavender?!" he gasped, his voice cracking as he saw his sister's face staring back at him in the glass. 'Oh. My. God.'

He wasn't Jaune anymore. He was… 'her'.

"I… I 'transformed'?!" Jaune's voice was high-pitched with panic as she poked at her new, unfamiliar face. "Is this permanent?!" Her breathing quickened as she started prodding herself, hoping to figure out how to reverse it. "Oh fuck, how do I undo this?!"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Jaune focused with all her might, willing herself back to normal. After a few tense moments, that weird sensation washed over her again. He cracked open one eye and looked one eye open. His breath hitched as he glanced down at his hands—his real hands, finally back to their normal size. He exhaled a long, shaky sigh of relief.

"I'm me again!" Jaune said, grinning like a kid who'd just found out Christmas was coming early. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but at least he was back to normal. No more awkwardly tiny hands, no more freaking 'Lavender' hair, and definitely no more sister-wannabe looks.

He leaned against the nearest wall, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead. But then something dawned on him—something kind of insane. He blinked. "Wait… does that mean I can… shapeshift? Does this mean my semblance has multiple aspects?!"

The idea hit him like a freight train. He wasn't just Jaune Arc, runaway criminal-slash-apology-tour hero. He was 'Jaune Arc, the freaking shapeshifter and wood semblance wielder.'

A mischievous grin slowly stretched across his face, the kind you get when you're a kid and you just discovered how to sneak an extra cookie from the jar without anyone noticing. "Awesome," he whispered to himself, his grin growing even wider.

He straightened up, running a hand through his hair as if he were adjusting a crown, because 'hell yeah', this was amazing. If he could shapeshift, that meant no one would recognize him, right? He could just waltz right past the guards, stroll into the forest, grab a bunch of apples, and nobody would be any the wiser. It was brilliant. It was perfect.

And he was 'definitely' going to mess it up somehow.

"Okay," he muttered to himself, pacing a bit. "Let's see… I just need to turn into… someone else." He rubbed his chin, trying to figure out the best approach. What was it his sisters always said? "Think pretty thoughts?" He frowned. That didn't sound right. 'Whatever, just focus.'

He closed his eyes and concentrated again, picturing a face in his mind. Something different this time. Maybe someone a bit older, or with darker hair, or a cool scar across their cheek—yeah, that'd look badass.

The strange, tingly sensation crept over him again, and Jaune's heart leapt into his throat as he felt his body shifting. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring down at… not quite what he expected.

"Are you kidding me?" Jaune groaned, looking at his reflection again. Instead of turning into some cool, mysterious stranger with a scar and dark hair, he had somehow transformed into an old lady. A hunched-over, granny-looking version of himself, complete with a walking wooden cane and a bonnet. A bonnet.

"This is not what I had in mind," he muttered, staring at his reflection in utter disbelief. He looked like he should be baking cookies for grandchildren, not sneaking into a forest past a police curfew.

But then again… maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Who would suspect a sweet old lady of sneaking into the woods to grab some apples? Plus, they only knew about his 'Wood Release'. A grin slowly crept back onto his face. Maybe this plan had potential after all.

"Alright, granny," he said to his reflection, adjusting the bonnet with a dramatic flourish. "Let's see if we can pull this off."

With newfound confidence—and looking like the world's most suspicious grandma—Jaune hobbled out into the darkness, his eyes scanning the streets for any signs of trouble. If he could just make it past the curfew patrols, get into the woods, and find some fruits, he'd be in the clear. Easy-peasy.

As he made his way down the street, he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. "If anyone catches me like this, I'm blaming it on a midlife crisis."

—X~X—

Winter Schnee had been through a lot in her career. But being sent to Vale, of all places, to catch some wannabe-criminal kid named Jaune Arc? That was pushing it. She didn't understand why General Ironwood would send 'her' for something that the local Vale forces could handle. Sure, Jaune Arc had a reputation for being… a bit unhinged. Psychopath, lunatic, or whatever people were calling him nowadays. But still, wasn't this a job for the Vale military? Or at least Beacon Academy's security?

Winter's suspicion gnawed at her. No, this wasn't just Ironwood's will. This had 'Father' written all over it. Her baby sister Weiss was attending Beacon this year, and while Father wasn't exactly the picture of warmth and love, he still had his ways of "protecting" his children. Father had likely leaned on Ironwood, throwing his weight around to get Winter assigned to this little babysitting gig. Not that Winter minded keeping an eye on Weiss, but being sent halfway across Remnant to play detective wasn't her idea of a fun week.

Besides, if she managed to bag this Jaune Arc character, Vale will be indebted to Atlas. Always good to have leverage.

Winter walked along the edge of the forest, scanning her surroundings. The woods stretched out like a dark, foreboding sea of trees. She doubted Arc would actually be here. The chances were slim, but there was always the possibility. Still, it wasn't like she was going to charge into the forest blindly at night. Not with Grimm potentially lurking. Besides, word on the street was that Arc had some crazy semblance, and fighting him in these woods wasn't her idea of smart tactics.

Suddenly, the leaves rustled, and Winter's body tensed. She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, her senses on high alert. 'What was that?' A Grimm? Some random smuggler trying to make a quick buck? Or, could it be…

Jaune Arc?

Her hand gripped the sword tighter. She was ready to strike, but then something shuffled into view from behind the trees.

It wasn't a Grimm.

It wasn't Jaune Arc.

It was… a 'granny'?

Winter blinked, her entire body relaxing as the elderly woman hobbled into view. The old lady was hunched over, using a cane, with a bonnet perche on her head like it was medieval era, and she carried a polythene bag filled with… apples and blueberries?

Winter's eyebrows raised in surprise. 'What the hell?'

Not one to be impolite—especially to elders—Winter approached cautiously. "Good evening, ma'am," she greeted politely. "What are you doing out here so late? It's dangerous, you know."

The old woman froze, clearly startled, her hands trembling as she clutched her cane tighter. "Oh, uh, hello there, ma… young lady," the granny stammered, her voice shaky. "I was just, uh… out picking fruits. You know, for selling. My… my grandkids are hungry, and with the curfew… well, they haven't been fed."

Winter raised an eyebrow. Something felt off. Who goes out in the middle of the night to pick 'fruit'? In a forest known to harbor Grimm, no less. But the woman looked harmless enough.

"Ma'am," Winter said, her voice soft but firm, "there's a dangerous criminal on the loose, and it's not safe for you to be out here. You should head home. You don't want to fall victim to that lunatic's madness."

The old woman's eyes flashed with sudden indignation. "I am 'not' a lunatic!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the night.

Winter blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

The old lady seemed to realize her outburst and quickly backtracked, bringing a hand to her ear as if she hadn't just snarled at a Specialist of Atlas. "Oh, dear me, my hearing isn't what it used to be!" she said with an awkward laugh. "What was your name again, dearie?"

Winter frowned but let it slide. "Winter Schee. Would you like me to escort you home, ma'am?" she asked, more out of duty than actual desire to walk this oddball any further into the night.

The old woman waved her off, clearly wanting none of it. "Oh no, no need, dearie," she said, wobbling a bit as she shifted her weight on her cane. "I'll be fine, I'm just a hop, skip, and a jump away."

Winter wasn't entirely convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Positive!" the old lady said with a little too much enthusiasm. "Now, if you'll excuse me—" She turned and started hobbling away, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Damn kids these days…"

"Alright, see ya!" Winter called after her, though something still didn't sit right. She wasn't about to let this granny just wander off without keeping an eye on her.

Winter was just about to follow when a low, menacing growl echoed through the trees. Her body went rigid again, her instincts kicking in. That sound—it was unmistakable. A Beowolf.

"Shit," Winter muttered, her hand flying to her sword. The Beowolf was closer than she'd thought, its glowing red eyes locked onto her like a predator eyeing its prey. The creature lunged before she could even unsheathe her weapon.

In that split second, she knew there was no way she could dodge. The Beowolf was too fast, too close. 'Is this it?' Was she really about to die, torn apart by a Grimm in the middle of some random forest?

But just as the Beowolf's claws were about to tear her head off, a strange sensation filled the air. It was like a breeze—no, like spring had suddenly bloomed in the middle of the dark night.

A voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Go away," it said, low and commanding, coming from somewhere behind her. "I'm in a foul mood today, so just leave."

Winter's heart skipped a beat. The voice was deep, dripping with confidence, almost… handsome? She felt her cheeks heat up, and instantly, she cursed herself for reacting like some schoolgirl. 'Focus!' She didn't even know who this guy was, and she was already blushing like an idiot.

The Beowolf, apparently too dumb to realize it was outmatched, lunged at the figure behind her.

"Good grief," the voice sighed.

Before Winter could even turn around, something swished through the air. There was a flash of movement—quick and precise. And then the Beowolf's body was split clean in two, the creature dissolving into ash before it even hit the ground.

Winter blinked in shock. 'What just happened?'

She turned slowly, her eyes wide as she took in the figure standing a few feet away. There, illuminated by the moonlight, was a young man.

His aura was screaming sigma male. 'Why am I having these thoughts?!'

He had a wooden sword slung casually over his shoulder, his blonde hair tousled, and his piercing blue eyes staring back at her with a mix of boredom and mild irritation.

And on the other hand?

A polythene bag full of fruits.

Winter's mouth fell open. "You were the granny?!" she shrieked, her voice jumping an octave.

The boy—Jaune Arc, she realized with growing horror—looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Uh… I'm me again? Need more practice… Crap… um… got to go."

And just like that, he bolted.

"Stop right there, Arc!" Winter's eyes narrowed in fury. She pulled out her scroll. "This is Specialist Schnee! I have eyes on Arc! He's heading—" She stopped mid-sentence as Jaune leaped high into the air—higher than any normal person should be able to. "—to the sky! I repeat! He's heading to the sky—"

'What the fuck?!'

Winter watched in absolute disbelief as Jaune Arc leaped again, vanishing horizontally into the night.

She stood there, staring blankly at the now-empty space in the sky.

"He was just… jumping, right?" she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. "He can't possibly fly. Can he?"

—X~X—

Jaune Arc pushed open the creaky wooden door of the hut with a relieved sigh, shaking off the night's weirdness. He stepped inside and immediately felt the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, the comforting scent of wood smoke wrapping around him. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Casine, the ever-anxious mother figure of the group, looked up from where she was stirring a pot over the fire.

"Ben! You alright?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. Her eyebrows shot up when she noticed the bulging polythene bag he was carrying. "You didn't run into any trouble, did you?"

Jaune waved her off with a grin, trying to sound casual even though his heart was still pounding from his earlier run-in with that ice-cold lady. "Yeah, yeah! I'm fine," he said, slinging the bag onto the rough wooden table with a thud. "But check this out—I scored some fruit!"

Billy, a grizzled, no-nonsense type with a permanent scowl, was already inspecting the bag. His calloused hands pulled out a handful of blueberries, holding them up to the dim light. He frowned, the deep lines on his face creasing even more.

"These Oranges, kid," Billy started, squinting at the fruit like it had personally offended him. "That Orange tree's been dead for years. Ain't nothin' been growin' from it since… I dunno, back when Grimm were cute or somethin'. Where'd you get these?"

Jaune blinked, feeling his stomach twist a little. 'Shit.' He hadn't really thought through the explanation part. "Uh… well," he began, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "funny thing. The tree looked kinda dead at first, but then, uh, it started… growing? Like crazy. Leaves popping out all over the place. Oranges sprouting, too. It was wild."

"Huh?" Casine stopped stirring, her ladle hanging in midair. She and Billy both stared at him like he'd just said the tree had started breakdancing.

Jaune gave them a sheepish grin, his mind racing. No way in hell was he telling them the real reason that tree had suddenly come back to life. Nope. Not happening. The truth was… well, it was gross, and Jaune wasn't about to confess that 'his pee' had somehow revived a dead tree. What was he supposed to say? "Oh yeah, I was just takin' a leak, mindin' my business, and boom—magic piss. Tree's alive again. Nature, man. Am I right?"

Absolutely not. He couldn't live that down. He wasn't going to be known as 'Jaune Arc: The Human Fertilizer.'

Damn it. Maybe he wasn't cut out to be a Huntsman after all. Forget saving people or fighting Grimm. Maybe his calling in life was farming. He could already picture it: a little ranch out in the countryside, rows of crops sprouting like wildfire every time he "watered" them. He'd be a one-man agricultural revolution. Or worse, he could start a side business selling his pee as some kind of miracle fertilizer. "Jaune's Juicy Piss," he imagined the labels saying. 'Ugh, gross.'

"Uh-huh…" Billy's skeptical voice cut through Jaune's thoughts. The man still looked like he wasn't buying it, but after a second, he just shrugged. "Whatever, kid. If you say so."

"Alright," Casine interrupted, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that was thick in the air like fog. She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Jaune with a small, motherly smile. "Ben, you've had a long day. Why don't you go and get some rest?"

'Ben.' That was the name she knew him by. Jaune nodded, feeling the weight of the day catch up with him. He was beat. Running from angry Huntresses, dodging Grimm, shapeshifting into old ladies…

This was a fucking long day.

Jaune trudged over to his small corner of the hut, barely managing to suppress a yawn. His body was begging for sleep, but his mind was still racing with everything that had happened. The tiny wooden bed creaked as he flopped down onto it, the rough woolen blanket doing little to comfort his aching muscles. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the flicker of firelight dance across the old wooden beams.

'What a day.' He'd been chased by a psycho Huntress, almost mauled by a Beowolf, and had somehow managed to trick a military specialist by transforming into his own sister's doppelganger. Just a normal day in the life of Jaune Arc, right? 'Yeah, totally.'

He groaned, tossing an arm over his eyes. What the hell was he even doing out here? He wasn't cut out for this life—dodging law enforcement, running from Huntsmen and Huntresses, shapeshifting into grannies. 'Grannies, for crying out loud.'

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He had this whole hero thing in his head when he left home, all noble and idealistic. But here he was, basically living like a fugitive. If he wasn't careful, he was gonna end up on every "Wanted" poster from Vale to Atlas.

The worst part? His… uh… sub-semblance, the thing that was supposed to make him special, felt more like a cosmic joke. 'Shapeshifting.' It wasn't badass like super strength or laser eyes or even speed. No, he had to get the ability to transform into other people, like some weird knockoff Grimm version of a doppelganger. What good was that in a fight? Sure, it helped him scam his way out of situations, but that wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he thought of becoming a hero.

Casine's soft humming floated through the room as she continued stirring whatever stew she was cooking. It was a peaceful sound, something that made this whole crazy situation feel almost… normal. Like he wasn't hiding from the law or running from a white-haired Valkyrie of death.

"Ben," Casine called out gently, her voice warm and soothing. "Are you comfortable? You must be exhausted."

"Yeah, I'm good," Jaune replied, pulling the blanket up and pretending that everything wasn't spiraling out of control around him. "Just… a lot on my mind, y'know?"

"Of course," she said, smiling over at him. "You've done enough for today. Rest, dear."

Jaune nodded, though he couldn't help but chuckle a little under his breath. He'd pulled off the old-lady disguise well enough to fool a military-trained Huntress, but it was still a miracle he wasn't arrested on the spot. 'Winter Schnee'—just thinking about her sent a shiver down his spine. That woman had ice in her veins. What kind of freaky training did they put Atlas soldiers through?

And the way she looked at him when she figured out who he was, like she was ready to wring his neck with her bare hands. 'Yeah, there's no way she's letting that go.'

He rolled onto his side, trying to shake off the nerves. If more was coming for him, he'd have to be smart about it. Maybe lay low for a while, perfect his Wood Release a bit more. His shapeshifting had saved his butt today, but next time? Next time he needed to be ready. He couldn't rely on dumb luck forever.

But… 'what if they're out there right now, plotting my demise?' He pictured Winter, pacing back and forth, sword gleaming in the moonlight, muttering something about "Arc must pay." A chill ran down his spine.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "I gotta stop thinking about this. I'll give myself nightmares."

Billy walked over to the fireplace, tossing another log into the flames. The fire crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He gave Jaune a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "You alright, kid? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jaune blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Huh? Oh, uh… yeah, just thinking. Y'know, about life. And uh, fruit. Yeah. Fruit."

Billy grunted, clearly not convinced, but he didn't push the subject. He just crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, staring into the flames.

"Tomorrow, I'll sneak into Beacon. Osborn or whatever the headmaster is he called, is known to be a kind man. I am sure he'll give me a chance to prove my innocence and worth. But for now, let's go to sleep."

Jaune felt the weight of exhaustion finally start to pull him under. His eyelids grew heavy, and despite his racing thoughts, sleep began to creep in. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about being chased by military specialists or fighting police or being slapped by blonde girls or accidentally growing magic trees with his bodily fluids.

But just as he was about to drift off, his brain decided to torment him one last time.

'What if Winter Schnee finds out you peed on that tree?'

Jaune's eyes snapped open, and he let out a frustrated groan, rolling over in bed.

This was going to be a long night.

Author Note: Thanks for all the reviews!

Spoiler Alert!

So the results are:

Jaune will be Jaune, but will be seen as an 'Sigma Male' like Madara. If you have any thoughts, do drop them in the review section.

I guess it's time for me to get more creative.

Till next time!

~Phoenix.