Chapter 1: A Second Chance
"Come on, Jaune! You can do it! Hit it!" The shout came from his father, whose face he could no longer picture in his mind. It was a voice that echoed in his memory, distant and distorted, yet undeniably his father's. A warmth came with it, a sense of security he couldn't quite place anymore.
"You can do it, sweetie!" His mother's voice followed, just as faint, slipping through the cracks of his fading recollections. He could no longer remember her face, but the love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket of comfort, even though she existed only as a wisp of memory now.
"Go for a homerun, Jaune!"
"You've got this, little bro!"
"Knock it out of the park!"
The voices of his older and younger sisters chimed in, overlapping and blending together in a chorus of encouragement. He could barely recall what they looked like—mere shadowy outlines in his mind, their faces long lost to time—but their voices, their laughter, their belief in him, those remained clear. He couldn't forget the way they cheered for him, the way their support made him feel invincible in that moment.
In that memory, the people surrounding him had faded away like ghosts, leaving behind only their voices and his younger self, standing in the batter's box. It was as if he existed in a dreamscape where everything around him was hazy, except for the game itself. He couldn't remember their faces, but he remembered the bat in his hands—its weight, its rough grip pressing into his palms as he tightened his hold.
He remembered the pitcher, the wind-up, the ball leaving his hand—a blur of white hurtling toward him. Time seemed to slow down. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. His eyes locked onto the ball as it drew closer, and then, with a grunt of effort, he swung the bat.
Crack!
The sound of impact rang through the air, reverberating in his bones. The ball shot up into the sky, climbing higher and higher. The world erupted around him, the cheers of his family swelling with excitement, a crescendo of anticipation as they waited to see if the ball would soar far enough for a homerun.
And then—
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sharp, jarring noise snapped him out of the memory, and back to reality. The field was gone. His family, his bat, the game—all of it had evaporated into the void. But the sound, that echo of a moment long passed, stayed with him. It was a fragment of a time he could never truly relive but would always carry with him.
Jaune slowly sat up, blinking against the midday sunlight filtering through his curtains. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was in his room, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember how he had gotten back here. The night before felt like a blur, a foggy mess of scattered memories and exhaustion. Had he fallen asleep on the couch and dragged himself to bed in a daze?
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sound came again—three loud, insistent knocks that reverberated through the quiet apartment. Jaune frowned, his sleep-addled mind taking a second to piece it together. It was coming from the front door. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, squinting to read the time. 12:00 PM.
He groaned. "Great, I slept in," he muttered to himself, feeling sluggish as he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wondered who could possibly be pounding on his door so forcefully. Maybe it was Roman or Neo. Or the twins. He sighed, hoping it wasn't trouble knocking.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The banging came again, louder this time, rattling the door.
"I'M COMING!" Jaune shouted in frustration as he staggered to his feet, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His muscles felt stiff, still worn out from whatever he had been doing before crashing into bed. He hurried out of his bedroom, passing by the small kitchen and the even smaller living room on his way to the door. The apartment was modest, just enough space for one person, but right now it felt like a labyrinth in his groggy state.
He reached the door and quickly unlocked it, yanking it open with a frown plastered on his face—only to be met with someone entirely unexpected.
An older blonde woman stood in the doorway. She looked about as stiff and formal as a statue, her posture ramrod straight, her expression one of stern authority. The lines etched in her face gave her a seasoned, no-nonsense air, and she eyed him with the kind of gaze that could cut through stone. She was impeccably dressed, her attire professional and neat, which only added to Jaune's confusion.
Jaune raised an eyebrow, staring at the woman as his brain struggled to catch up. "Can I help you?" he asked cautiously, still not fully awake.
"You're Jaune Arc, correct?" the woman asked, her voice clipped and businesslike.
That one sentence set off a subtle alarm in Jaune's head. How did she know his name? He hadn't introduced himself, and her tone—there was something about it that made him wary. His instincts, honed from countless dangerous situations, began to buzz.
"Maybe," he said slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Depends on who's asking, what do you want?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, though she remained composed. "I want to ask you a few questions," she said firmly, her words carrying the weight of someone used to getting what they wanted.
Jaune shook his head, his expression hardening as he straightened up and met her gaze. "Sorry, lady, but I don't talk to cops," he said flatly, already moving to end the conversation. His hand twitched toward the door, ready to shut it in her face.
"I'm a Huntress," she corrected, her voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge. There was no hesitation in her tone, no room for misunderstanding.
Jaune paused, but only for a second. "Even worse," he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow. "Look, I don't care who you are or what you want, I don't know anything, and I'm not gonna say anything, so kindly get outta here,"
His hand gripped the edge of the door, pulling it closed, but the woman didn't move. Her foot slid forward, stopping the door just as it began to swing shut. There was a flash of authority in her eyes now, cold and unyielding.
"Nicholas and Yalena Arc are your parents, you had seven sisters and lived in the town of Paris before it-"
The woman's words hung in the air, unfinished, as Jaune's hand shot out, swinging the door wide open. His chest tightened with anger, and in an instant, he was face-to-face with her, his furious glare boring into her calm, unflinching eyes. The mention of his family—a subject he had long buried—sent a surge of adrenaline through him. She didn't know any of that. She couldn't.
"How do you know that?!" Jaune demanded, his voice seething with barely restrained fury. "Just who the hell are you!?"
The woman adjusted her glasses with a calm, almost clinical precision. She showed no fear, no hesitation, as if she had expected this exact reaction. "I'll explain everything once I'm inside," she said, her voice level and authoritative. Her gaze never wavered from his as she added, "So… may I come in?"
Jaune's jaw clenched, and he hesitated, his mind racing. He didn't trust her, not even a little, but how had she learned those details? The information about his family—about Paris—was something he had worked hard to bury, to keep hidden from anyone who might be looking for him. He had distanced himself from everything and created a new life, one where no one could trace him back to his past. Yet here she was, laying it all out like it was common knowledge.
She was a Huntress, which made her dangerous, even more so because he knew that despite all his training and street smarts, he wasn't prepared to take on someone of her caliber. If she wanted to push, he wouldn't stand much of a chance. And still, a part of him burned to know the answer. Why now? Why was she here, and how much did she really know?
He stared her down for a few moments, wrestling with the decision. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. "Fine, but don't try anything," he warned, his tone cold.
She gave him a brief, acknowledging nod and stepped past him into the apartment, moving with the composed grace of someone who knew they were in control. She glanced around his small, modest living space before settling into one of the few chairs in the living room, her posture still upright and rigid. Jaune closed the door behind her, his mind still racing with questions, and took the chair across from her, his glare never leaving her face.
"So," he said, his voice filled with suspicion, "Just who are you? And why are you here?"
The woman took a deep breath, sitting up straighter, her posture becoming even more formal and imposing. "My name is Glynda Goodwitch, Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy," she began, her voice carrying an air of authority that demanded attention.
Jaune froze, his body stiffening as her words sank in. 'Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy?' Shock rippled through him, making it hard to breathe for a moment. His mind raced.
What the hell is she doing here!? Beacon Academy was a name that carried weight, prestige, and power. People like Glynda Goodwitch didn't just show up on doorsteps for no reason—especially not his doorstep.
"As for why I am here," Glynda continued, her tone steady, "I came for none other than you, Mr. Arc."
"Me?" Jaune blurted out, still struggling to wrap his head around the situation. "What for?"
Glynda calmly adjusted her glasses, a gesture so precise it felt rehearsed as if she had done this countless times before important conversations. She paused, measuring her words. "I am- was an old friend of your mother and father, we were... close," she revealed, her voice softening for just a moment. "When I heard what happened to your family, I was devastated... Nicholas and Yalena were not just colleagues—they were dear friends, I owe them a great debt,"
Jaune's mind reeled. A debt? What could she possibly mean by that? His parents had never mentioned anyone like Glynda, let alone someone who worked at Beacon Academy. The more she spoke, the deeper his confusion grew.
He narrowed his eyes, searching her face for answers. "What do you mean, "debt"? What kind of debt are we talking about?"
Glynda shook her head gently, dismissing his question as if it were unimportant. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with right now," she said, her tone shifting back to its usual firmness. "What matters is that I am here because of that connection, and I suspect you're curious as to how I came across the information you've worked so hard to hide, correct?"
Jaune felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His years of carefully erasing his trail, keeping his past buried, suddenly seemed fragile in the face of this woman. He had taken every precaution, used every resource to keep his history locked away, yet here she was—someone who not only knew his name, but also knew his family, his origins, and the secrets he had tried so desperately to leave behind.
He nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving hers.
For the first time since she arrived, a small, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of Glynda's lips. It was brief, but it was there—a sign that she held all the cards in this conversation.
"I have my ways," Glynda said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. Her eyes gleamed with the quiet confidence of someone used to holding all the cards. "After all, you'd be surprised how much scarier a Huntress with telekinesis can be compared to the head of a criminal syndicate known for information brokering," Her lips curled slightly as if savoring the subtle intimidation in her words.
Jaune's eyes widened, his mind reeling. 'She knows about Junior!?' That single revelation hit him like a punch to the gut.
The underground ties he'd built so carefully, the alliances he'd forged with people like Junior to stay under the radar—it was all supposed to be airtight. But Glynda knew. And if she knew about his connection to Junior... did she also know about Roman and Neo?
Glynda didn't give him time to dwell. "About a month ago," she continued, "someone approached me, and brought you to my attention, They handed over photos, information—everything about the life you've started here in Vale," Her tone was measured, and professional, but there was an edge to it, as if she were holding back the full weight of what she knew.
Jaune felt the air leave his lungs, his body stiffening under the weight of her words. 'Someone approached her?' His thoughts raced, heart pounding in his chest.
Who could've done that? The only people who knew about his past were Roman, Neo, and Junior. None of them would rat him out—they had too much to lose themselves. And even if they did... why would they go to Goodwitch of all people? The questions buzzed through his mind like a swarm of angry hornets.
"Who?" Jaune asked, his voice hoarse, barely managing to get the word out as his throat tightened with unease.
Glynda paused for a moment, then, with the same measured calmness, adjusted her glasses before responding. "I'm afraid I don't know myself," she admitted, her tone more serious now. "They merely sent a folder, I've never met them in person,"
There was no deception in her voice, but her answer only left Jaune with more questions, and more dread.
Jaune clenched his jaw, a low growl escaping his throat as frustration gnawed at him. He wasn't used to being in the dark, and the fact that someone—someone he didn't even know—was pulling strings behind the scenes left him feeling exposed. "So, what exactly did they want?" he asked, the anger simmering just beneath the surface of his words.
"They wanted me to help you, to steer you off this... current path you're walking on, Mr. Arc," Glynda said, her voice unwavering as she looked him straight in the eyes.
Jaune furrowed his brow, confusion tightening his features. "How?" he asked, not because he was considering her offer, but out of sheer curiosity. How could anyone, let alone someone like her, pull him off the road he had been traveling since arriving in Vale? This life, gritty and unforgiving, had molded him into who he was now. What could possibly change that?
"By offering you studentship at Beacon Academy," Glynda said simply as if it were the most logical solution in the world.
Jaune's eyes widened in disbelief. "Studentship?" he echoed, the word foreign on his tongue. "You mean... you're offering me the chance to become-!?"
"A Huntsman? Yes," Glynda finished, cutting off his question with an air of finality.
The word, Huntsman, hung in the air like a heavyweight, crashing down on Jaune's mind. His thoughts raced back to a time long past, memories surfacing from the depths of his childhood. A Huntsman... The idea seemed almost absurd now, after everything that had happened. But he couldn't help but remember.
He remembered being a wide-eyed kid, sitting at his father's feet, listening to the stories of their family legacy—the tales of heroism and valor that had been passed down from generation to generation. His father had been larger than life in those stories, a towering figure swinging their ancestral sword, carving through the monstrous Grimm with the grace of a knight from the old stories. Jaune had looked up to him, had wanted—yearned—to be just like him, to carry on that legacy and become someone who made a difference in the world.
But that was all a lifetime ago.
He'd buried those dreams along with his past when he first arrived in Vale. The streets had hardened him and taught him survival came first. In his mind, those grand ideals of heroism had been replaced by a brutal, practical reality. What good was heroism when you had to scrape by just to see another day?
As Jaune lost himself in the memories of a simpler time, Glynda continued, her voice steady, reading the conflict on his face. "I understand that you must be hesitant, you've spent years growing up on the streets of Vale, doing whatever it took to survive, I'm sure there are things you've done that you're not proud of," Her gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. "And I know you've come to see Huntsmen and Huntresses as nothing more than fools—idealists throwing their lives away for causes they don't fully understand,"
She leaned forward, her eyes searching his.
"But let me ask you this, Jaune... is that what you believe your father was? Do you think he was a fool rushing to his death?"
Jaune's breath caught in his throat.
Was that what he thought of his father?
No... no, that wasn't it. He had never once thought of his father that way. His father had been a hero in every sense of the word—a man who fought not for glory, but for the safety of those who couldn't protect themselves. Jaune had admired him, idolized him. Even after all this time, he hadn't forgotten the pride he once felt in being a part of the Arc family.
But somewhere along the way, that pride had turned into bitterness. The world wasn't the fairy tale he had grown up believing it was. There were no knights in shining armor—just people struggling to survive. And yet, here Glynda was, offering him a chance to rekindle that spark, to become the Huntsman he had once dreamed of being.
Glynda reached into her breast pocket and smoothly pulled out a small card, placing it on the table between them with a deliberate motion. The card was pristine, its edges crisp, as if it hadn't been touched until that moment. The golden letters reflected the dim light of Jaune's apartment, standing out against the stark white background.
"I'll let you think about it," Glynda said, her voice calm but carrying the weight of finality. "This is my business card,"
She gestured toward it briefly, then rose from her seat, her posture as sharp and composed as ever. As she made her way toward the door, she paused just before stepping out, turning her head slightly to give Jaune one last look, her eyes steady and filled with quiet confidence.
"Call me when you've made your decision, Mr. Arc,"
Without waiting for a response, Glynda stepped out of the apartment, the door closing with a soft, deliberate click. The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, leaving Jaune alone in the silence, surrounded by the gravity of what had just happened.
For a long moment, Jaune didn't move. His gaze slowly drifted to the card on the table. Hesitating at first, he finally reached for it, picking it up between his fingers and inspecting it carefully. The name "Glynda Goodwitch" was printed in beautiful, ornate gold cursive, shimmering under the dim light. Beneath her name was her scroll number and her position: Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy. He turned the card over in his hand, finding a purple crown embossed on the back—a regal emblem that likely belonged to her.
Jaune let out a long, shaky sigh, raking a hand through his messy hair as the weight of the encounter settled over him. His mind was buzzing, racing with questions, doubts, and memories he'd long since buried. The life he had built here, the person he had become—it all felt distant now, like a facade beginning to crack under the pressure of something bigger.
He set the card back down on the table, staring at it for a few more seconds, as if it held some kind of answer he couldn't see yet. Then, with a frustrated grunt, Jaune stood up abruptly. 'I need to get moving,' he thought, heading toward his room. The reality of the situation could wait; right now, he had a day to get through.
"Great... what a messed-up way to start the day," he muttered under his breath as he stepped into his bedroom, the door closing with a soft thud behind him.
But even as he moved to get ready, the card still lingered in the back of his mind, a reminder that his life had been thrown off course in ways he hadn't anticipated.
XXX
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Later that evening, Jaune found himself sitting at the bar in Junior's club, his usual haunt. He was dressed in his typical attire: a black shirt paired with a white tie beneath a crisp white blazer, matching white dress pants, and black polished shoes. His blond hair, slicked back out of his face, curled slightly at the sides, giving him a sharp yet unbothered look.
In front of him, a half-finished glass of whiskey sat idly, the amber liquid reflecting the low lights. But Jaune wasn't paying attention to his drink. His eyes were fixed on the card that Glynda had left him, now held between his fingers. It felt heavier than it should, as if the decision it represented weighed more than just its physical presence. No matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, the card haunted him, nagging at him since the moment she had left his apartment.
He had tried to distract himself—getting dressed, heading out, diving into his usual routine—but the card called to him like a siren, pulling his thoughts back again and again to Glynda's offer. The question hung over him like a cloud: What now?
Would he take her up on the offer? Become the Huntsman he had once dreamed of being, like his father? That childish fantasy of heroism, of being something more, had felt so distant for so long, buried beneath the life he had built here in Vale. But now it was resurfacing. Could he really walk away from everything to chase that dream? Could he leave behind the life he had been living—the friends he had made?
Roman, Neo, Melanie, Miltia... They had become his family in this underworld. What would they think if he turned his back on their way of life? Would they understand if he wanted to leave? Or would they hate him, seeing his decision as a betrayal of everything they had built together? To them, Huntsmen and Huntresses were fools—idealists who rushed toward death with blind ambition. Would they see Jaune the same way if he decided to go down that path?
'What would they say if I walked away from this?' His thoughts swirled in his mind like a storm, uncertainty gnawing at him. The bar's noise faded to a distant hum as he stared at the card, lost in contemplation.
"-aune! Jaune! Hey!"
The familiar voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Jaune blinked, looking up as Roman Torchwick slid into the seat next to him, his signature smirk tugging at his lips. Roman was dressed in his usual white suit and bowler hat, his cane resting casually against the bar.
Jaune barely had time to register Roman's arrival when he felt someone hop into the seat on his right. He turned to see Neo, grinning widely, her mismatched eyes sparkling as she flashed him a peace sign. She didn't say anything, as usual, but her presence was always loud enough on its own.
"Oh, hey, Roman, Neo," Jaune greeted them, his voice lacking its usual energy, more of a murmur than a proper acknowledgment.
Roman slid into the seat next to him, his brow raised in concern as he scrutinized Jaune's unusually distracted demeanor. "You alright, kid?" he asked, his tone somewhere between curious and cautious.
Jaune gave a small nod, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere. "Yeah... sorry, I was just thinking about something," he replied, his voice distant as he tapped his fingers idly on the counter.
Roman let out a quiet huff, smirking slightly. "Thinking, huh? Well, that much is obvious, but what's got you thinking so hard this early in the day?" Roman leaned back, keeping his eyes on Jaune, curiosity growing.
Jaune's gaze drifted down to the bar counter, where the card Glynda had given him sat. After a brief pause, he slid the card across the counter toward Roman, who snatched it up with a practiced flick of the wrist. Roman's eyes quickly scanned the name printed in gold letters, and his expression shifted from casual amusement to surprise as recognition dawned on him.
"Glynda Goodwitch?" Roman muttered, glancing back at Jaune with wide eyes. Concern flickered behind his usual nonchalance, and he handed the card back. "Where'd you get that?" His voice, usually laced with sarcasm, now carried an edge of genuine unease.
Jaune sighed, picking up the glass of whiskey and taking a slow sip before answering. "She showed up at my apartment this afternoon," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly at the memory. "Started talking to me about my past,"
Roman's reaction was instant, his usual smug expression replaced with shock. Even Neo, usually hard to rattle, blinked in surprise, her eyes wide as she exchanged a glance with Roman.
"Whoa, hold on a minute, kid!" Roman's voice rose in alarm, his eyes now locked onto Jaune's. "How the hell did she get her hands on that info? I thought we had your past locked up tighter than General Ironwood's pants!" His tone was a mixture of disbelief and panic, knowing how carefully they'd buried Jaune's history.
Jaune shrugged, his expression weary. "I don't know... But she knew everything, she even knew that it was Junior who helped scrub my record," He set his glass down with a soft clink, rubbing a hand across his face. "Thing is, she didn't seem too interested in him, just me,"
Roman's brow furrowed in confusion. They were talking about Glynda Goodwitch, one of the most powerful Huntresses in all of Vale—known for her strict demeanor, and yet, the fact that she seemed uninterested in Junior, the biggest crime boss in the city, who the police had been trying to take down for years, didn't sit right with him. It felt off—suspicious.
Roman leaned forward, his voice low as he asked, "Why you?"
Jaune didn't respond right away. Instead, he picked up his glass, taking another long swig of whiskey. The burn of the alcohol did little to clear the haze of confusion swirling in his mind. He swallowed hard, then set the glass down on the counter with a quiet clink before finally answering. "She said she knew my parents, said they were close friends,"
Roman's eyes widened, his normally composed expression slipping into shock. Jaune could see the gears turning in his head. Roman knew everything about Jaune's current life, but this part of his past—the connection between his parents and Glynda—was news to him.
Neo, sitting quietly beside Jaune, reached out and gently tapped his shoulder, drawing his attention. When he turned to her, she began signing in VSL—Valerian Sign Language, her slender fingers moving with practiced speed and precision. {How did she find you?} Neo asked, her expression concerned but calm.
Jaune sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "She said someone came to her... handed her information about me. Brought me to her attention. I'm guessing after that, she looked into my new life and tracked me down." His voice was laced with frustration and uncertainty, the weight of Glynda's sudden appearance clearly still hanging over him.
Neo's brow furrowed further as her hands moved quickly again. {Did she say who gave her the information?} she asked, her usually mischievous demeanor now completely replaced by genuine concern.
Jaune shook his head, exhaling sharply. "No, she said everything came in a folder... She doesn't even know who gave it to her," He stared down at the empty glass in front of him, feeling the weight of that unanswered question pressing down on him like a vice.
Roman hummed softly, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the mystery. Who could have delivered Jaune's new life to Glynda Goodwitch? The chain of events didn't sit well with him. Someone clearly had tipped her off, leading her to dig into Jaune's past. She had to verify the details, no doubt—but who would do that? Roman knew without a shred of doubt that it wasn't him or Neo. Betraying Jaune's trust like that would be the last thing they'd ever do. Junior was off the list too; he'd been too invested in keeping Jaune hidden, especially after everything Jaune had done for him.
So, who?
Roman mulled it over, lost in thought, until the sound of Neo's fingers signing snapped him back to the present. He glanced at her as she quickly moved her hands, asking {What did she offer you?}
Jaune stared at the empty whiskey glass for a moment, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He lifted it briefly, tilting it from side to side before setting it back down with a soft clink. Letting out a long sigh, he finally answered, "She... offered me a place at Beacon,"
Both Roman and Neo froze, their reactions nearly identical—wide-eyed shock. It wasn't just the offer that surprised them; it was the significance of it. They both remembered the younger Jaune, back when he still had stars in his eyes, back before the weight of his life in Vale had crushed that innocent hope. He had always talked about his family—the legendary Arcs, a line of heroes. He had dreamed of following in their footsteps, becoming the same kind of hero his father had been.
Now that old dream had suddenly resurfaced.
Roman leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Beacon, huh? That's... something," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He shot a sidelong glance at Jaune. "You used to go on and on about it, remember? But that was a long time ago, you're really considering it?"
Jaune didn't answer right away, his eyes drifting over to the business card lying on the bar. That small piece of cardstock felt heavier than it should have, almost as if it was pulling him in two directions. His mind raced back to the days when becoming a Huntsman seemed like the ultimate goal. His father's stories, the pride that came with being an Arc... All of it was real, once.
But things had changed.
He'd changed.
"I don't know," Jaune muttered, his voice low. "It's just... a lot to think about,"
Roman hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against the bar. Without warning, he suddenly backhanded Jaune across the face. The impact landed squarely on Jaune's forehead, causing the blonde to jerk back violently. His chair tipped, sending him crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
Jaune groaned as he scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his head. His blue eyes flashed with both anger and disbelief as he glared at Roman. "OW! Roman, what the hell!?" he shouted, his voice filled with irritation and confusion.
Roman, utterly unfazed by Jaune's reaction, leaned casually against the bar, lighting a cigar with his usual calm, collected demeanor. "You were thinking about doing something stupid, weren't you?" His voice was disturbingly calm, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he took a slow drag from the cigar.
Jaune shot him a death glare, his jaw clenched. "What!? You mean becoming a Huntsman? I-!"
Roman cut him off, shaking his head. "No, you were thinking about staying here, huh?" There was an edge to Roman's voice now, a sharpness that cut through the room's dim atmosphere like a knife. His gaze was fixed on Jaune, eyes narrowed with something that was half-warning, half-understanding.
Jaune blinked, his anger melting into confusion. "Staying here...?" he muttered, as if trying to make sense of the accusation. He stood there, still rubbing the sore spot on his head, his mind racing to catch up.
Roman let out a deep sigh, flicking the ash off his cigar before fixing Jaune with a look that was a mix of frustration and something almost like concern. "Kid, come on, I know you're thinking about it—sticking around here, with us," He said. "You might tell yourself you're being loyal, staying in this mess, but it's because you're scared,"
Jaune felt his muscles tighten at those words, his jaw tensing. "Scared?" he scoffed. "I'm not scared of anything! I've been doing fine here! I survive!"
"Exactly," Roman's voice became sharper, more pointed.
"Huh?"
"You survive, you scrape by, but do I have to remind you that surviving isn't living, Jaune, you think sticking around here and running cons with Neo and me is gonna get you anywhere? Get you what you really want?" He leaned forward, the smirk on his face fading into something serious, his green eyes locking onto Jaune's. "This is our life, Jaune... Not yours,"
Jaune's expression twisted into one of pure anger, his fists clenching as he glared at Roman. "You don't get to say that!" he shouted, his voice shaking with emotion. "The three of us have been doing this since we left that damn orphanage! I've been at this almost as long as you two! We've been through it all together—through the dirt, the danger, the risk! And you're telling me this isn't my life? It's all I've ever known!" His voice cracked with frustration as the weight of his words settled in the air.
His outburst carried the intensity of someone who had convinced himself, for so long, that survival was the only path he had. Jaune's chest heaved, his body vibrating with a mixture of anger and desperation.
But Roman's reaction was immediate and fierce. In a heartbeat, he stood from his stool, knocking it back as he turned sharply to face Jaune. His eyes darkened, his glare cutting through Jaune's fury like a blade. Before Jaune could react, Roman grabbed him by the collar of his white blazer, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart.
Neo, who had been watching from the sidelines, tensed, ready to jump between them if things escalated further. Her eyes darted nervously between the two men.
Roman's voice was low but filled with a raw intensity that made the air in the room feel heavier. "No!" Roman's voice roared, dripping with anger, his grip on Jaune tightening. "This isn't what you've always known, and you damn well know it!" His words were like a hammer, crashing down with brutal honesty.
Jaune's eyes widened slightly at the force of Roman's response, but before he could fire back, Roman pressed on.
"You had something we never did! You had a family! You knew who they were! You had people who loved you! People who would've done anything for you!" Roman's grip loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered. "You had more than I ever did, more than Neo ever did, you weren't born into this life of crime, you didn't start here, so don't you dare stand there and act like this is all you've got!" Roman's voice cracked slightly as he spoke, the frustration and pain in his words unmistakable.
The room went deathly quiet after Roman's outburst, his words lingering in the air, hanging heavy between them.
Jaune's body froze, his breathing shallow, as Roman's words hit deeper than any punch ever could. His anger flickered like a dying flame, slowly replaced by a different emotion—something far more complicated. He had never seen Roman like this before, never heard him speak with such raw, unfiltered emotion.
For all their years together, Roman had always been the confident one, the one who never let anything get under his skin. He always brushed things off with a smirk or a sarcastic comment, but now... Roman was baring a truth Jaune had never fully confronted.
"Roman..." Jaune began, his voice softer now, almost uncertain, but Roman wasn't done.
"You think this life is all you know because you're scared of admitting you've still got something to lose," Roman continued, his voice quieter but still firm. "You're scared because if you walk away—if you take that chance Glynda's giving you—you're afraid you might fail... Afraid you won't live up to your family's legacy,"
Roman released Jaune's blazer, letting him step back, but the fire in his eyes remained. "I get it, kid... I do, but don't you see? That's why you've gotta go," He pointed a finger at Jaune's chest. "Because you can be something more than this, you still have that chance... We're stuck here, Jaune, you? You don't have to be,"
Jaune staggered back, his breath coming in short gasps, his mind reeling. He felt the weight of Roman's words pressing down on him, suffocating him with the truth. He hadn't realized how much he had been clinging to this life—this crime-filled, chaotic existence—not because he wanted to, but because it was easier than facing the possibility of something more.
Neo, watching the tension between them, gently placed a hand on Jaune's arm. Her brown eyes softened with concern as she began to sign slowly, {Roman's right... We never had the choices you do, don't waste it,} Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
Jaune swallowed hard, his throat tight. The anger that had flared up moments before was gone, replaced by a swirling storm of confusion, guilt, and a deep-rooted fear. Roman's words echoed in his head.
His mind flashed back to his family, to the stories his father used to tell him about their legacy as Huntsmen. The heroics, the valor, the honor. He remembered how, as a child, he had always wanted to be like them. How he had dreamed of being a hero.
But then everything changed. His family was gone, and with them, that dream had died—or at least, he thought it had. But now...
Now he was being given a second chance.
Jaune hesitated, the weight of his decision still pressing heavily on his chest. He looked down at his hands, his voice shaky as he spoke, "But what if I... I don't want to leave you guys?" The raw emotion in his voice was palpable, a rare vulnerability he rarely let slip.
These were the people he had grown up with, the ones who understood him in ways no one else could. The thought of leaving them behind was terrifying.
Roman let out a sharp exhale, his usual smirk softening. "You're still that dumb kid from back then, you know that?" Roman teased, but the affection in his voice was undeniable. Without another word, he stepped forward and pulled Jaune into a tight hug, catching the blonde off guard.
Jaune stiffened at first, shocked by the unexpected gesture. Roman wasn't exactly the "hugging" type—at least not openly—but this was different. This wasn't just a friendly pat on the back; this was family. Roman's arms around him reminded Jaune of that.
"We're family, Jaune," Roman murmured, his voice low and serious. "We've always got your back, no matter what,"
That was all it took.
The dam Jaune had been holding back for so long finally broke, and the emotions he had kept buried for years came rushing to the surface. His eyes welled with tears, and before he could stop himself, he hugged Roman back tightly.
Neo, who had been watching the two with her usual silent amusement, couldn't help but smile. The sight of her two "brothers" in an emotional embrace was enough to warm even her mischievous heart. Without hesitation, she leapt off her stool and practically pounced on them, wrapping her arms around both men, completing the group hug. She squeezed tightly, grinning ear to ear, her silent way of showing she cared just as much.
Jaune's tears continued to flow, but now, mixed in with the sorrow, there was relief. It was comforting to know that no matter what choice he made, he wasn't alone. This strange little criminal family—Roman, Neo—they would always be there.
Roman, of course, would never admit it, but he allowed himself to linger in the hug for a little longer than usual, feeling a rare sense of warmth. The tough, sarcastic exterior cracked just a little. But then, of course, he had to ruin the moment with his typical bravado.
"Alright, alright! Enough of this mushy emotional stuff before I start crying too," Roman said, his tone faux-annoyed as he wriggled his way out of the embrace. "I've got a reputation to uphold here! Last thing I need is someone seeing me get all sentimental."
Just as Roman straightened his blazer and dusted himself off, a sing-song voice interrupted the moment.
"Too laaate~!"
The trio whipped around, only to find Lisa Lavender, Vale's most infamous reporter from VNN, sitting casually on a barstool with her scroll in hand, recording the whole scene.
"Lisa Lavender here, reporting live from Junior's club, where we've just witnessed a heartwarming, never-before-seen moment—Roman Torchwick and his... family, sharing a touching embrace!" she announced in her signature playful tone, her scroll camera fixed on the three of them.
Roman's face went pale as his jaw dropped. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me..." he muttered, his hand immediately shooting up to cover his face.
Neo grinned mischievously, waving at the camera as if she were on the red carpet, while Jaune, wiping his face, could only stare in disbelief.
Lisa winked at them before putting her scroll down with a sly smile. "Don't worry, Roman, I'll keep this one off the air... for the right price~!" Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she playfully dangled the blackmail over him.
Roman groaned, slumping onto the bar. "This is the worst day of my life..."
Jaune, despite everything, couldn't help but laugh. A genuine, light-hearted laugh that cut through the heaviness that had been weighing on him all day. Even with the craziness of his life, these moments reminded him why he cared so much about these people. They weren't just criminals—they were his family, for better or worse.
Neo gestured to Lisa, signing quickly with a smirk. {Want to join the hug next time?}
Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. "Tempting, but I'll pass, can't risk messing up the hair on a workday, you know?"
Roman, finally recovering from the shock, rubbed his temples. "Great. Just great. You two are going to be the death of me..."
"Hey," Jaune said, still grinning, "If you think this is bad, just wait until I become a Huntsman!"
Roman groaned again, but this time, there was a glimmer of pride behind his exaggerated frustration. "Don't push your luck, kid..."
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Glynda Goodwitch sat in her Beacon Academy office, the soft glow of her desk lamp illuminating the stacks of first-year transcripts scattered before her. She had been working tirelessly, reviewing each student's records and making final adjustments, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the unexpected meeting she had that morning. No matter how hard she tried to focus, the image of the young man she'd met—Jaune Arc—lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake.
As she tried once more to concentrate, the sound of a familiar voice broke the silence. "Distracted, Glynda?"
Startled, she nearly knocked over the papers in front of her. She quickly composed herself and turned to see none other than Headmaster Ozpin standing in the doorway, his ever-present mug of hot cocoa in hand. His expression was calm, but his eyes twinkled with amusement at having caught her off-guard.
"Ozpin! You scared me," Glynda said, her voice carrying a hint of frustration.
Ozpin smiled, stepping further into the room as he took a casual sip from his mug. "How unusual~! You normally sense me coming from a mile away, Glynda, something must truly be weighing on your mind for me to catch you unawares," He said with a teasing tone.
Glynda let out a small sigh, setting down her pen. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest, her thoughts swirling. "You're not wrong... I suppose my mind is elsewhere at the moment,"
Ozpin raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Indeed? That's not like you," He took another sip of cocoa before setting the mug down on her desk. "Care to share what has you so preoccupied?"
For a moment, Glynda hesitated. She wasn't one to confide easily, even with someone like Ozpin, but this matter felt... personal. More personal than anything she had dealt with in a long time. Finally, after a deep breath, she spoke. "I... I discovered something this morning," she began, choosing her words carefully. "Someone I believed to be long gone... is alive."
Ozpin's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion flashing across his face. He leaned against the edge of her desk, his expression now one of genuine curiosity. "Who?" he asked softly, tilting his head as he studied her.
Glynda let out a shaky breath, trying to steady her emotions before she finally spoke. "Jaune..." she whispered, the name heavy with years of suppressed sorrow.
Ozpin's eyes widened in disbelief. "Jaune? Jaune is... alive?" he asked, the shock evident in his voice. He hadn't heard that name in so long, not since the reports of the tragedy, not since Glynda cried his name so desperatly when the news reached them.
Glynda nodded, her expression strained. "Yes," she confirmed, barely able to keep her voice steady.
"But... how?" Ozpin pressed, still struggling to process the revelation. "The report said there were no survivors in Paris, I read it myself, there were no survivors,"
Glynda's gaze dropped to her hands, clenched tightly together. "I thought the same, for years, I believed that... But about a month ago, I received an envelope, no return address, no sender, inside was a folder filled with photos... of Jaune, and not just old photos... They were recent! Along with basic information about the life he's created for himself here in Vale," Her voice trembled as she continued, the weight of the revelation crashing over her. "At first, I didn't believe it... I thought it had to be some kind of sick joke... but the pictures, Ozpin, the resemblance was unmistakable... I knew it was him... I couldn't just let it go,"
Ozpin's face was unreadable, but there was a deep frown of concern. "And you confirmed this?" he asked, though he seemed to already know the answer.
Glynda nodded again. "I tried accessing Jaune's original file, but it was sealed, I had to petition the judge to get it unsealed... When I finally got the file, I compared the two, there were differences, yes, his name, his background... but the pictures... they were too similar, the way he stood, his eyes—there was no mistaking it, I knew in my heart that it was him, Jaune was alive," As she spoke, her voice broke, the emotions she had held back for so long finally surfacing. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly removed her glasses and wiped them away before they could fall.
Ozpin moved closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Glynda, my dear," he said softly, his tone compassionate. He knew how much this must have weighed on her. "You have nothing to apologize for,"
Glynda shook her head, trying to pull herself together. "I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't be letting this affect me like this,"
"There's no need to apologize," Ozpin reassured her, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. He paused, his expression shifting from concern to curiosity. "Have you... met him? Spoken to him?"
She exhaled slowly, calming herself, hoping her voice wouldn't break again. "I... I met him this morning," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ozpin, standing across from her, raised an eyebrow. His gaze softened, knowing this must have been an emotional reunion for her. "Did you..." he began cautiously, "Did you tell him the truth?"
Glynda shook her head, her expression filled with a mix of guilt and regret. "No, I didn't," she admitted, her voice strained. "I couldn't, Ozpin, not yet... How can I tell him that I'm-! How do I tell him something like that after so many years? I-I just couldn't..." She asked.
Ozpin studied her for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed to understand the weight of her dilemma, but that didn't make it any easier. "What did you do, then?" he asked gently, sensing there was more to the story.
"I..." Glynda hesitated, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as if for support. "I offered him a spot at Beacon." The words came out quickly, as though she were confessing something she wasn't entirely sure of herself.
Ozpin's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but his expression soon became somber. "Are you sure that's the right decision?" he asked softly. His tone wasn't accusatory, but rather filled with the quiet concern of a mentor who had seen the consequences of rushing decisions.
Glynda's eyes were filled with a mix of desperation and determination as she met Ozpin's gaze. "I don't know what he needs, Ozpin," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I do know that I can't let him disappear again..."
Ozpin let out a quiet sigh, understanding her fears all too well. He had seen how deeply the loss of the arc family, of Jaune, had affected Glynda. She had never quite recovered from it. The hope of seeing Jaune alive again was not something she could let go of so easily.
"Has he responded?" Ozpin asked after a moment of silence, his voice calm and measured.
Glynda shook her head, her heart heavy with uncertainty. "No, not yet," she replied. "I left him with the offer, told him to think about it," Her voice faltered for a moment.
Ozpin nodded slowly, his gaze steady and thoughtful. "Do you think he'll take it?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
Glynda let out another shaky breath, her mind racing with possibilities. "I... I hope so," she replied, the weight of uncertainty lingering in her words.
Ozpin let out a low hum, contemplating the situation. "That's all you can do, Glynda," he told her gently. "If I had to guess, I think he'll take it,"
Glynda's eyes widened with surprise. "You do?" She searched his expression for clarity, desperate for reassurance.
"I do," Ozpin affirmed, his tone steady. "Perhaps fate has brought you two back together, perhaps this is your opportunity to make amends for what you've been blaming yourself for all these years, and perhaps... you will find the courage and strength to tell Jaune the truth," His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and unspoken emotions.
A tear escaped Glynda's eye as she processed his sentiments. She sniffled softly, a smile breaking through the haze of doubt that had clouded her heart. She reached out, placing her hand on his, feeling an unexpected warmth from the contact. "Thank you, Ozpin," she said, her voice trembling with gratitude as she leaned her head against his arm, seeking comfort.
Ozpin chuckled softly in his throat, a sound filled with affection. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Of course, my dear, and if you need me..." he began, but the sentence trailed off, leaving the promise hanging in the air, filled with unspoken support.
Suddenly, Glynda's scroll vibrated on her desk, breaking the moment. The unexpected noise startled her, and she quickly reached for it, her heart racing. As she opened the message, her breath caught in her throat; she noticed it was from an unknown number.
"Who is it?" Ozpin asked, his brow raised in curiosity, noting the shift in Glynda's demeanor.
"I don't know," she replied, her heart racing as she opened the message.
As she read the words, all her previous fears seemed to wash away, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. A radiant smile blossomed on her face, illuminating the otherwise somber atmosphere of the office.
Unknown: ["Ms. Goodwitch, it's Jaune, I wanted to let you know that I want to take you up on your offer... I want to become a Huntsman"]
Glynda's breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words sank in. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the chance to reconnect with the boy she had once known, to guide him toward the future he deserved.
"Glynda? What is it?" Ozpin asked, his voice laced with concern as he noticed her joyful expression.
"Hope, Ozpin… Hope…" she said softly, her voice almost a whisper as she gazed at her scroll, the words glowing brightly in her mind.
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I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of this story because god damn did I put my whole Authussy into this bitch! God damn did it feel like I was writing a fucking banger with this one!
I've been wanting to kind of create a Gangster Jaune story for some time now because I've read a few that are just fucking awesome and because I've caught up on reading a pretty awesome action romcom manga called "Akabane Honeko no Bodyguard" And god damn do I fucking love it! Mostly because the main character, Arakuni Ibuki, is exactly how I envison a punk/gangster Jaune!
Also, if you do search up the character, yes I stole his look for Jaune in this story, the drip was just too good not to steal!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this because we're just getting started with one crazy story, filled with action, adventure, comedy, twists, and so much more!
But what do you think happened to Jaune's family? How exactly did Jaune meet Roman and Neo? And what truth is Glynda hiding from Jaune?
Guess you'll have to find out in chapter two! See you next time!