Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. I own nothing.
7. Vacation Days 01
Vacation Days- Where Jaune Learns Nothing, and Applies Nothing
A late afternoon
"How about Mel-mel. Like, the cat, meow-meow?"
"No way, that cutesy junk would destroy my rep."
"Ughhh, you're so picky, Mel."
Seriously, her sister is always so uptight, carrying on about respect and reputation. Miltia was sure Mel-Mel would be a hit, too.
At the moment, Miltia and her sister were perched at the bar, waiting for their favorite (out of a class of one) student. Melanie happily lounged on the new barstools, testing them one at a time to find The One. She already rejected two chairs that day, one for a loose screw that she refused to tighten, and another for the crime of being too close to the corner. Looking at her sister, Miltia could only see a temperamental cat trying to find the best napping spot, hence the nickname proposal. Miltia, herself, prefer the seat two spaces from the center.
Miltia spun on her barstool, gazing at the ceiling. The minutes ticked by.
Alright, where's Jaune? She's been waiting for, like, half an hour.
Sure, he only said he'd visit today. Yes, there were no mention of time or place. So logically, they will meet at the bar. It was the go-to meeting place for Junior's gang, including Miltia, Melanie, and Jaune. When they go somewhere, they'll start from the bar. After they go somewhere, they'll end up at the bar. She and Melanie are at the bar, exactly where they should be. Jaune should be here, why isn't he?
The door slammed open, a boy walked in.
Miltia stared. Should she make another wish? A suitcase full of lien failed to materialize.
Without a greeting to the gangsters and staff, Jaune strode directly to his teachers. He did not wave, or smile, to Miltia or her sister. As he approached, Miltia mentally appraised his walk. To her side, Melanie sat up on her seat and did the same.
"Jaaaaaune, are you trying a new strut?"
Trust Melanie to try and throw Jaune off his groove. A strut must be judged with a professional manner, sister. Miltia turned her focus back to Jaune.
"Hmmm, the kick certainly projects power. That door's pretty heavy, and the slam caught our attention. A good start, disciple." Melanie hopped off her barstool, circling Jaune clockwise.
"I kinda like the smoldering anger, but I can't say dark and brooding works for you."
Jaune arrived before them, face impassive. Miltia decided to follow her sister's lead, leaving the comfortable stool to circle Jaune in the opposite direction.
"And with how fast you ran over here, did you miss us that much?" The speed of his walk was concerning. It didn't give off that sense of arrogance a Yakuza needed.
"How sweet, gopher, but I'll have to take points off for the desperation." Ditto, Melanie.
Miltia stopped in front of Jaune, her sister on her left. They clapped their hands together.
"All in all, 6 out of 10."
"Same, Mel! There was a sense of Jaune-ness missing, you know?"
"Yup, yup. It doesn't suit you."
Try as he might not to, Jaune cracked a smile. The sisters broke out in laughter, sauntering back to their seat. Miltia waved for one of the bartenders prepping behind the counter.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"We sent a gopher- Oops, sorry gopher- we sent a minion for some cakes."
"One of those tray of petit fours from La Patisserie Vert." To die for, in Miltia's humble opinion.
"We can get dinner, then pig out on fancy sweets."
Jaune interrupted, his face back in that impersonal, not-Jaune look. "That sounds great, but there's something I want from you."
Miltia blinked, surprised. Mel mirrored her action. Jaune usually showed better manners than this. He would chat and joke and compliment before getting down to business. To be so direct...
"Disciple, is something wrong?"
"What happened?"
Jaune took a deep breath, and exhaled. His eyes sharpened. He loomed over Miltia and Melanie.
"I'm here for my hoodie that you took."
Everything halted. Beads of sweat formed on the brows of Junior's men. The Club's staff trembled in place. They remembered the last time that dreaded word was spoken.
In contrast to the fear permeating the room, Melanie leaned back, one elbow rested on the bar, her legs crossed.
"Uh, excuse you. Huntsman or not, you can't accuse us without evidence."
Miltia composed herself and casually checked her nails, not even looking in Jaune's direction anymore. She couldn't give the game away so soon.
"Right? We would never, ever, do such a thing. You have the wrong beauties."
They told bold-faced lies, of course. He has exactly the right beauties-ahem-culprits he was looking for. However, he has little proof, and no idea where she and Melanie have hidden the item. They simply needed a distraction. A few teases, a few blushes, and he should back down. Her student calmly continued.
"I would say, that the hoodie," those within earshot winced, "is in Miltia's middle desk drawer. Next to her diary."
Silence. Then, a susurration as the gangsters in the room come to grips with the fact that she, of all people, has a diary.
How did he know? He-, he didn't read it, did he? Time to lie, lie, lie.
"N-no, there's nothing in there. Some junk and hair ties and stuff, maybe? I don't have a diary."
Dammit, dammit, dammit. She stuttered. Oum, what an amateur move. Looking around, the minions don't seem very convinced either. Melanie, help!
Melanie, on her part, tried to deflect. She likely worried more about the garment's hiding place being revealed than Miltia's diary, but it took the heat off of Miltia nevertheless.
"Have you been going into our room, Jaune? Does your Beacon team know? We thought you might've brought them to introduce us."
Miltia knew for a fact that he snuck in twice to get back his hoodie. The third time, when she caught him with the prize in hand, he exited through a wall to get away. Junior began taking the repair costs out of their paychecks from then on.
Jaune kept up the pressure.
"If I bring my team here, it'll be to take back poor Pumpkin Pete."
Melanie huffed. Crossing her arms, she pouted at how easily Jaune ignored her jab. At the same time, Miltia burst into tears, sobbing into her hands.
"You-, you're accusing us again. -hic- Why can't you trust us?"
Her emotions, so raw and pained, struck the eavesdropping audience. A few of the men clenched their fists, glares promising murder directed Jaune's way. They were on the younger side, new hires if she recalled correctly.
Huh, looks like the newcomers have a crush on her. Again.
And Jaune has noticed, judging from that glance at the mooks.
Hehe, what are you thinking, I wonder, I wonder? Could you be…jealous?
"Miltia, you take part in theatre troupes. I know you can cry on command."
Ah.
Jaune has become too familiar with her tricks. He wasn't as naïve, anymore. Her hands parted to reveal her smirk. Miltia slyly stuck out a tongue.
"Eheh. Can't blame a girl for trying." Aaaaand, wink! Nailed it.
Despite her efforts, Jaune remained unimpressed. He very much can blame her, his gaze seemed to say.
"So, the hoodie?" Both sisters answered emphatically.
""No.""
Not getting the hint, Jaune pressed the point.
"It's limited edition." Miltia went back to checking her nails. The same old argument won't convince her, not for something of this magnitude. Melanie scoffed.
"Yeah, we know."
"It took fifty box tops." Miltia waved dismissively. It sounded impressive, but he could have poured the cereal in a container. There were little actual need to eat all fifty boxes during the promotion period.
"Uh huh, we know."
"I'll never find another like it."
Never find...? Never. Find? Miltia could almost feel a vein pop.
That line got to them, and Jaune could tell. Jaune could tell, because Melanie and Miltia abandoned their faux disinterest to scream from their heart.
"WE KNOW, OUMDAMMIT, WE KNOW!"
"THERE'S NONE LIKE IT, ZIP, NADA!" Melanie kicked off the stool once more. She stomped to and fro.
"The stupid promotion ended years ago, and they refused to bring it back." Miltia cradled her head in her hands, hunched over the bar counter.
"There's, like, 3 other ones on Remnant. Their owners are not selling."
She scoured old company announcements, searching for the winners of Pumpkin Pete's 50 Box-Tops Challenge. Then she used another full week to track the trail of sales and gifts to find their current owners. She discovered one garment destroyed by a devil child, two articles locked tight once the owners realized the fortune in their hand.
Melanie came to a stop in front of Jaune, gripped the lapels of his suit, and pulled him down to her eye level.
"We thought Huntsmen clothing lines might carry it."
Miltia's head hit the counter. That thought had sparked another quest for the sisters. She had crowed in glee when she and her sister came upon that idea. It didn't have to be the exact same clothing, just the same material! Taking a day to visit the stores on Tailors' Way would be the cherry on top! She cursed her naivety.
"Mel and I turned the fashion district upside down."
"We searched the online marketplaces, and nothing!"
Miltia spun around on her seat to face Jaune, her arms gesticulating wildly.
"It's all leather and latex!"
"Are they catering to Huntresses or dominatrixes?" Melanie lamented, pacing once more. "Pffft. Perverts."
Miltia sighed. The two of them had become increasingly frustrated as hours turned into days. Shop after shop, the tailors shook their heads. Customers demanded Huntsman- and Huntress-wear to be eye-catching and combat-ready. No sane company or boutique would design a Huntsman-grade jacket without heavy ballistic weave and Dust-treated plating on the inside. She tried one on, it felt like a straitjacket. She could use it as an exercise weight, for how heavy it was.
Her experience online fared little better. The fashion forums derided her and Melanie when the sisters tried to describe their object of desire, appalled that anyone would make a such a hideous and wasteful garment. Casual is in style, it is!
The sheer number of fakes and fraud auctions confused the issue even further, with a sizable faction thus declaring the Pumpkin Pete hoodie to be a myth.
Moisture pooled in Miltia's eyes. She recalled the vitriol directed at her. Mockery was one thing, Oum knows she loves to tease. But hatred?
Miltia forlornly whispered the next great idea they came up with.
"We tried to commission it." Melanie brightened up in false cheer at Miltia's words, then scowled.
"It's proprietary! Only Pumpkin Pete's R&D department has the formula for the material!" Unable to contain her grief, Miltia wailed.
"And they won't share!"
They were close, oh so close, only to have the door slammed in their faces once more. Melanie narrowed her eyes.
"We tried to negotiate. We offered lien,-" Miltia slapped a hand on the counter.
"-Threatened them,-"
"-Sent in our goons."
"They sent theirs." Miltia whimpered, a hopelessness in her voice. "We nearly started a war."
Melanie stomped one final time, hands clutching her hair.
"Why does a cereal brand have their own PMC? That whole company is insane, just like when they made that hoodie!"
By the end, the twins were heaving and panting. Junior, who came in from the staff door during Melanie's and Miltia's rant, set to pouring two glasses. Melanie fanned her flame-red cheeks. Miltia sniffled, in actual tears this time.
Jaune, sweet Jaune, edged closer. A brave move. He trembled, but still placed his hands on Melanie's shoulders. Gently, he coaxed Miltia's sister to a seat. Junior smoothly sent a glass sliding to a stop in front of her. A beat, and another glass stood before Miltia. She gulped it down, her sister following suit. Rum and coke.
Jaune soothingly rubbed circles on their backs as they drank. It did calm her down some.
Having caught her breath, Melanie composed herself.
"I hope you can see why we're not giving up Pumpkin Pete." Miltia cheekily chimed in with an anticipatory grin.
"If you want it, then try and take it."
"We need its soft touch. You only have yourself to blame, really." Jaune retorted.
"I don't see what I did that could have led you to steal it every week." Miltia held her hands to her heart.
"You made us this way, disciple! Made us want it! Desire it!-" There was a decidedly hungry look to Melanie.
"-Extolling its virtues at every turn, then mocking us with its exclusivity."
"Then you ran off to Beacon!"
It was the biggest crime, as Miltia saw it. She couldn't take the Bullhead over to the academy whenever she pleases. The silky softness would be lost forever. Jaune groaned.
"Ughhh, maybe I should just leave it with you."
What?
"So quick to throw things away, disciple? Are we next?"
She knew it was a mistake as she said it. This was supposed to be about the hoodie. She should've sounded happy at his surrender.
Jaune gave her a scrutinizing look, and she squirmed.
"I thought you would be glad to have that thing."
"I am! Buuuut as your teacher, I can't say I admire your lack of willpower, disciple."
His demeanor changed from argumentative to contemplative. He knew. Miltia knew he knew. If she could just make him shut up and move on…
Then, he laughed that stupid, smug laugh.
"I would have come back every few days. Even without you taking my stuff."
So he says, but it wasn't a sure thing.
Fighting back and forth over the hoodie was a thing they did every week. Like pushing Jaune into the shenanigans behind the Club every time new shipments come in, or trying to survive Junior's experimental Dust drinks. A bit of harmless fun to keep life from going stale. A fight, then a laugh. Along the way, it became precious memories.
Miltia wanted her happy days to continue, even as she trained Jaune so he could leave.
With his airsickness, Jaune may very well stay on campus. Beacon was like a separate world, one where she and her sister were not welcomed. So, finding the Pumpkin Pete sweatshirt in his luggage, she couldn't help herself.
Crossing her arms, Miltia tried to play it off with a derisive scoff.
"Hah! You can't even take a Bullhead without puking. Who's to say you won't just coop up in Beacon?"
Sporting his annoying grin, Jaune's face cleared of all its previous seriousness. He hopped into the next seat over, swinging an arm around Miltia's shoulder.
"C'mon Mil. No matter where I go, I'll always come home again. I don't want Uncle Hei to cry, after all, or for you and Mel to invade my school." Melanie, pensively tapping her chin, offered.
"How about we keep the hoodie for the week, and maybe you can get us visitor passes to Beacon? We can give it back next weekend?"
Nooooo, Mel-Mel! Seeing Jaune struggle is the best part! Don't be reasonable, sis. Miltia glanced at Jaune to see what he'd say.
"Nope. I'll leave it in your hands for a few days, but I'm gonna win it back for myself. I'll get the passes, but by Wednesday, I'll be wearing that thing."
Yes! The game is afoot!
Miltia hummed happily. She hadn't expected to wrangle another visit from her student. She hadn't even expected to keep the hoodie. Today was finally looking up.
Melanie snagged a glass and poured some water, likely to wash down the three afternoon drinks she'd already had. Miltia settled back in her comfortable seat, pulling out a scroll to show Jaune some of the stupidity the minions got up to in his brief absence.
Junior came back to the bar, eyebrows raised.
"Wow, not a broken chair in sight, you can learn. You three finished?"
The unruly trio nodded meekly, energy spent.
"Good, pick a restaurant and we'll have dinner before The Club opens. I want to hear from Jaune about Beacon."
Three voices answered together.
"""'~'kay~"""
Diner-On-47th
Jaune reclined in a booth at the second-most boringly-named establishment in Vale (It had, at least, more details than 'The Club'). Melanie sat beside him, having claimed the window seat. She twirled the plastic straw of her vanilla milkshake. Miltia, originally sitting across the table, have smooshed into his bench as he recounted his Initiation adventure. Uncle Hei took the opportunity to lounge in the freed up space, eating his fries in a sauce made of ketchup and mayonnaise.
His teachers listened with rapt attention. At first, they cheered and jeered his ballroom performance. Now, Miltia, aghast, repeatedly slaps his shoulder as he described the fight with the Deathstalker. Melanie alternated between cackling hysterically and cursing Beacon, Ozpin, Grimm, and, for some reason, Blondie Barbie. Uncle Hei took drink after drink from his whiskey flask.
"Truck-size. Truck-size!? Truck-size!" Miltia has also been repeating that phrase for the past minute.
"It worked out! I got in close like you taught me, and avoided all of its attacks! The size didn't matter."
Melanie puffed up, nose high in the air.
"All thanks to my advice. Aren't I the best? Did you really think I was bullying you?"
You know you were.
It was a teaching moment!
And you wanted to see him cry for mercy.
And I wanted to see him cry for mercy.
"Sorry Melanie, you saved my life, you really did." A tug drew his attention to Miltia.
"What did you think of the wakizashi I got for you?"
"It was exactly what I needed to kill the thing! I had to crawl under it to get at the weakpoints, and Crocea Mors would have been useless in a small space like that."
Miltia visibly preened under his praises. Jaune wanted to laugh. They spent all that time and effort to train him, and they're content with compliments in return. If they open a combat school, they'd be bankrupt in a year.
He settled back in his seat and sipped on his triple-chocolate milkshake. Did he thank them enough yet?
Nah.
He placed his cup back on the table, looked at Miltia, then at Melanie. Having gained their attention, Jaune spoke.
"For everything you two have done for me, thank you. If it wasn't for you Mil, and you Mel-Mel, I would-"
"Whoa, hold up. What did you just call me?"
Melanie's interruption brought Jaune up short. He stared confusedly at Melanie, then at Miltia.
"Uh, Mel-Mel? I thought you wanted to be called that? Miltia said so."
In the silence that follows, realization dawned for both Melanie and Jaune. Melanie made to reach for her sister, while Jaune attempted to duck out of the way. Miltia, having other ideas, hid behind his back and pushed him against Melanie.
"Mil, you bitch!"
"C'mon Mel-Mel, it rolls off the tongue!"
"It really does."
"Jaune, don't encourage her! And never call me that in front of the minions."
"Hehe, so he can call you that in private?"
"He can call me that never."
"Ooh! Jaune! I wanna be called Mil-Mil, to match with Mel-Mel."
Uncle Hei simply kept on lounging, as The Club's trio of troublemakers bickered their way through the meal.
This flower says beauty, adored forevermore
This flower says friendship, true and blue
And this flower, simple and bland,
It says, see me as I am
-Entry from Miltia Malachite's Diary, after visiting the Vale Botanical Gardens
Author's note: The hoodie has transcended into the realm of macguffins.
This chapter was originally all from Jaune's POV, written as an epilogue for Initiation. But then, the most interesting people in the room isn't Jaune, is it? So, welcome to the mind of Miltia Malachite!
Miltia was supposed to be the 'sweet and demure' twin. Fanfic authors love writing her so, and readers love seeing it too. Let's do the same here, this writer thought. She only speaks after Melanie speaks! She's (relatively) nicer to Jaune than Melanie! She has a diary! She can cry on command? All the new workers develop crushes on her, and she knows it? Her thoughts are whimsical? After it all, she ended up as the 'seemingly sweet, actually manipulative' twin. Oops.
Vacation Days take place in Vale, during the time Jaune attends Beacon. Very rare, won't happen often. After all, the point of this story is to learn and apply lessons in the Yakuza Way, and the characters shine brightest under such circumstances.