Chapter 42: Snowflake
Reviews:
Delta7344: trust me, we'll get the reactions of RWBYNPR to Jaune later in this act and the next act because of a certain event.
Guest: Thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
NinjaFang1331: Trust me, Jaune is gonna earn a new title that will be far better than "Invincible under the Sun" (Which is a Vagabond reference).
blaiseingfire: Oh, trust me, Jaune's goal of getting strong will cause some conflict, but not in this act, but later down the line of the story.
InfamouslyHandsome: Jaune is gonna earn a new title that will be far better than "Invincible under the Sun"
hapyjohn: Glad you're all caught up and yeah, this story will be going on for a while!
A/N:
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
I know I'm a little late, but hey! We made it to 2025! Honestly, I didn't think this story would've gotten as far as it did, but I'm glad and grateful it's made it this long! to think it's been pretty much 2 years since this story came out! Of course, none of it would've been possible without you dear readers! So thank you all for making it this far and thank you all for the support you've given me!
41 Chapters, 223,917 words, 234 Reviews, 457 favorites, and 590 Follows just on this site! Let's fucking go!
Anyway! Enough of me yapping, get to reading!
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Whitley's time in Vacuo was nearing its end. Just a few more days, and he would be back in Atlas, surrounded once again by the cold, unyielding walls of the Schnee manor.
For now, he lay in the small, unfamiliar bed of his temporary quarters, staring at the ceiling with a blank, almost vacant expression. Yet his mind was anything but still. It replayed the events of that fateful day on the train—the day he was saved.
Saved by people unlike anyone he had ever met.
Growing up as a Schnee, Whitley had always been taught that strength came from power, influence, and wealth. His father had drilled it into him, insisting that the Schnee name was synonymous with superiority. "We are better than most," his father would say. "We have no need to dirty ourselves with trivial things like combat. That's why we have security—why we hire others."
It was a mantra Whitley had absorbed without question. He had scoffed at Weiss and Winter's choices to become Huntsmen, thinking them naïve for seeking such a dangerous and, in his mind, unnecessary path. What could they possibly gain from lowering themselves to the level of the "common rabble"?
But on that train, surrounded by chaos and violence, all of those beliefs had crumbled in an instant.
Whitley had been powerless, utterly and completely. He had no weapon, no semblance, no training—nothing to defend himself as the White Fang attacked. The memory of that helplessness lingered, vivid and haunting. If not for the young Huntsmen who had stepped in, he knew he would be dead.
That moment had shattered more than just his ego; it had obliterated the carefully constructed walls of superiority and self-sufficiency he had clung to all his life.
For the first time, Whitley saw the truth: Strength isn't just about power or wealth—it's about the ability to protect yourself and others.
And those Huntsmen, those strangers who had risked their lives to save his, embodied that truth.
They hadn't saved him for money or recognition. They hadn't even asked for so much as a thank-you. They had done it simply because it was the right thing to do.
And when the chaos had settled, they hadn't treated him like the spoiled, entitled Schnee he feared they might see. Instead, they had extended a hand of friendship—genuine and warm.
It was baffling.
It was humbling.
Whitley shifted in the bed, his brow furrowing as his thoughts deepened. He thought about the training his sisters had endured and the sacrifices they had made. For the first time, he wondered if he had misjudged them, blinded by his father's teachings.
Maybe they weren't the fools he thought they were. Maybe they had understood something he hadn't—until now.
He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of determination, unlike anything he had felt before.
'I refuse to be powerless ever again...' Whitely told himself. 'I'll learn to fight, to protect myself... I don't want to be scared, I don't want to be useless... I want to be strong, I want to be like them' He thought.
The ceiling blurred slightly as his resolve solidified. Whitley wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time in his life, he was ready to step out of the shadow of his father's expectations and find out.
Eventually, exhaustion began to pull at Whitley Schnee, coaxing him toward the first real sleep he'd had in days. His body relaxed against the thin mattress, and his tense expression softened as his mind began to quiet.
But before the comforting darkness of slumber fully embraced him, a single thought lingered in his mind—a promise, a decision made in the solitude of the night.
'Tomorrow...' he thought, his gaze flickering toward the faint moonlight spilling through the window. 'Tomorrow, I'll go see Jaune and the others,'
The memories of their bravery flashed before him—Jaune's calm, commanding presence in the chaos; Sun's relentless energy; Vernal's sharp instincts. They weren't just people who had saved his life; they were a revelation, living proof that strength came in many forms.
Whitley didn't know what he would say to them or how they might respond, but he knew he needed to try. Whether it was to thank them, learn from them, or simply understand what made them so different from everything he had known, he felt an inexplicable pull to reach out.
As his eyes finally fluttered shut, a faint smile touched his lips, the first genuine one he had felt in a long time. For the first time in what felt like forever, Whitley didn't dread the idea of tomorrow.
And with that, the youngest Schnee child drifted into sleep, his mind filled not with the cold, stifling expectations of his upbringing, but with the warmth of a new path he was ready to explore.
Morning arrived, and Whitley Schnee awoke to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through his curtains. Rising promptly, he stretched before heading to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. He made quick work of his routine, ensuring every strand of his white hair was in place and his clothes were immaculate. Today, he was determined to make a good impression.
Once dressed, Whitley consulted with the advisor his father had sent ahead to ensure his schedule was clear. To his relief, there were no pressing obligations for the day. With his newfound freedom, he ordered a light yet satisfying breakfast and took his time eating while considering his next steps.
The idea of reaching out to Jaune lingered in his mind, sparking a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. He wasn't entirely sure how the day would go but was certain he wanted to experience something different—something real.
After finishing his meal, Whitley retrieved his scroll, taking a deep breath before pulling up Jaune's contact information. Without hesitation, he pressed the call button, holding the device to his ear.
The dial tone only lasted a few seconds before Jaune's familiar, friendly voice answered.
[Hello? Whitley?] Jaune asked, his tone bright.
"Yes, it's me," Whitley replied with a polite smile, even though Jaune couldn't see it. "Hello, Jaune, how are you this morning?"
[I'm doing well, Whitley, yourself?]
"I'm good," Whitley replied, his tone steady yet warm. "I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer to spend some time together with you and your friends,"
[Oh, uh, yeah, no problem,] Jaune responded with a cheerful tone, clearly pleased by the request. [Would you mind meeting us at Shade's front gates?]
"I wouldn't mind meeting you there, no," Whitley replied, his voice calm and poised, yet carrying a hint of anticipation.
[Alright, sounds good,] Jaune said on the other end, his friendly tone as warm as ever. [Just let us know when you're close, and we'll meet you at the gates, then we can figure out what to do from there]
"Sounds delightful, thank you, Jaune," Whitley said with a small, polite smile, his manners ever precise.
[Don't mention it! See you soon,] Jaune replied cheerfully.
"Goodbye," Whitley said, giving a slight nod even though Jaune couldn't see it.
The call ended, leaving Whitley with a sense of purpose and excitement. He turned to his security team, who had been standing by during the exchange, and addressed them with his usual composed demeanor. "Please arrange for transport to Shade Academy," he instructed. "However, I ask that you drop me off and refrain from accompanying me further. I wish to spend time with Jaune and his friends without your supervision," Whitely said polietly
The guards exchanged hesitant glances. One of them stepped forward. "Sir, are you certain? Your safety is—"
"I am," Whitley interrupted gently but firmly. "You've seen firsthand that Jaune and his group are more than capable of ensuring my well-being, they've already proven themselves on the train, and I trust them,"
The team reluctantly nodded, acknowledging his wishes. "Very well, sir," one of them said. "We'll drop you off at the academy gates, just contact us immediately if you need anything,"
"Thank you for understanding," Whitley replied, a hint of gratitude in his tone.
As the vehicle sped through the desert streets of Vacuo, Whitley took a moment to compose himself. The morning sun cast golden hues over the cityscape, and for the first time in a long while, he felt unshackled from the weight of expectation.
When the driver informed him they were just a few minutes from Shade Academy, Whitley pulled out his scroll and sent Jaune a brief message: {Approaching Shade now, see you shortly}
It didn't take long for a response to come through. {Got it! We're at the gates waiting for you,} Jaune had written.
Whitley smiled to himself, tucking the scroll away. As the academy's towering gates came into view, a sense of nervous excitement coursed through him. This was a step into a world that was still unfamiliar yet strangely inviting.
inally, the car came to a gentle stop in front of the towering gates of Shade Academy. Whitley stepped out, brushing a hand down his crisp jacket as he took in the sight of Jaune's group waiting for him. Or rather, most of the group—Jaune was notably absent.
Despite the small detail, Whitley approached the group with a polite smile, his composure as steady as ever. "Hello, everyone," he greeted warmly.
Vernal was the first to respond. Striding toward him with a confident grin, she pulled the young Schnee into a brief but firm hug. "Good to see you, kid," she said, her tone carrying a friendly warmth. "How've you been holding up?"
Whitley froze for a moment, startled by the unexpected embrace. It wasn't every day that someone hugged him so casually—if at all. But the gesture wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it felt... nice. Shaking off his surprise, he returned her smile. "I-I'm doing well, thank you," he replied, his voice steadier than he expected.
As Vernal stepped back, Oscar appeared at Whitley's side, a familiar and reassuring presence. He clapped a hand on Whitley's shoulder, his kind smile as genuine as always. "It's good to see you again, Whitley," Oscar said.
"You as well," Whitley responded, feeling a bit more at ease now.
From the group, Deery approached next. Her expression was soft, and her demeanor was as calming as Whitley remembered. "How are you, Whitley?" she asked, her voice gentle. "I hope things have been better for you since, well, the train incident,"
Whitley nodded, his smile growing a touch more confident. "I'm doing well, thank you, things have been... much calmer," he assured her.
Deery returned his smile, visibly relieved. But before the conversation could continue, Whitley's curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around the group, noting the missing faces. "If I may ask," he began cautiously, "where are Jaune and the older woman who was with you?"
Vernal chuckled, her tone carrying a teasing edge. "Maria? She's off at a place you're too young to know about," she said with a smirk. Then her expression shifted slightly as she explained, "As for Jaune, he got challenged by a couple of Shade students before we got here, he figured it'd be better to handle them himself rather than risk them bothering you because of, well, who you are, so he told us to go on ahead and promised he'd catch up later,"
Whitley blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild disbelief. "Students just walked up and challenged him? Is that... normal behavior among Huntsmen students?"
Vernal shook her head, her arms crossing over her chest. "No, not really, but because of Sun, Jaune's become a bit of a target for every student out there looking to prove they're the strongest or make a name for themselves," she explained.
"Sun made Jaune a target?" Whitley asked, now more curious than skeptical. "Did something happen between them?"
Vernal sighed heavily, rubbing her temple as though the mere thought gave her a headache. "No, it's not like that, It's just... complicated," she said with a groan. "Anyway, enough about that! What do you wanna do, kid? We can catch a movie, grab some fast food, or... I don't know, whatever it is normal people do for fun," she offered, her tone tinged with awkwardness.
Deery laughed, the sound light and teasing. "Great suggestions, Vernal, truly creative," she quipped, nudging her lightly.
Vernal shot her a glare, though it was softened by a roll of her eyes. "I was raised by bandits! I never had the 'normal fun' experience!" she shot back defensively.
Deery shrugged, an amused grin still on her face. "Neither did I, I grew up in a backwater town in Vale, never got the chance to do any of the city things people talk about," she said, her voice casual but laced with a hint of nostalgia.
Oscar crossed his arms, leveling an incredulous stare at Vernal and Deery. "Are you two serious?" he asked, his tone bordering on disbelief. "I mean, sure, I grew up on a farm, but even I can come up with a few fun ideas,"
Deery leaned against a nearby post, her smirk smug and challenging. "Oh yeah? Alright, genius, let's hear it," she said, waving her hand as if inviting him to impress her.
A grin crept across Oscar's face as he straightened up, clearly enjoying the moment. "Okay, let's see... Comic book store, arcade, shopping, theme parks, normal parks, beaches, and—!"
"Alright! Alright! You win!" Deery cut him off, throwing her hands up in defeat. Her glare wasn't entirely serious, but it was clear she hadn't expected him to rattle off ideas so quickly.
Oscar's grin widened as he shot her a victorious look, and Whitley couldn't help but chuckle. The sheer absurdity of watching the two bicker was amusing, and Oscar's unexpectedly smug moment only made it better.
Whitley hesitated for a moment, looking at the three with a mix of determination and vulnerability. Finally, he spoke up, his voice firm but laced with a hint of nervousness. "Actually, if you don't mind... I was hoping you could teach me how to fight,"
The trio stopped in their tracks, turning to face the Schnee boy with expressions of surprise and confusion.
"You... wanna learn how to fight?" Deery asked, her brows raised.
Whitley nodded firmly. "Yes,"
Oscar tilted his head, his curiosity evident. "Why?"
Whitley took a deep breath before meeting their gazes with unwavering seriousness. "I want to be strong," he said. "I want to know how to protect myself. If something like what happened on the train happens again, I don't want to just freeze up, I want to be able to fight, to help, to survive,"
The weight of his words hung in the air. For a moment, none of them spoke. Vernal studied him closely, her sharp eyes picking up on the vulnerability in his posture, the faint tremor in his hands as he clenched them into fists. She recognized that look—the same look Oscar had when he first came to her and Jaune, desperate to learn how to defend himself.
Vernal crossed her arms, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"
Whitley nodded. "Ever since the train," he admitted. "I was so scared... And I can't stand the thought of feeling like that again,"
Deery softened, stepping closer to the boy. "You're not useless, Whitley," she said gently. "But... I get it, you want to take control, right? Make sure you're never caught off guard like that again?"
"Exactly," Whitley said, his voice steady. "I don't want to rely on others to protect me anymore, I want to stand on my own,"
Vernal's smirk turned into a full grin as she reached out to ruffle his hair. "Alright, kid, if you're serious about this, I'll teach you how to fight,"
Oscar, Deery, and Whitley all stared at Vernal with wide-eyed shock. Her unexpected offer hung in the air, and Whitley, unsure if he had heard correctly, stepped forward hesitantly.
"You... will?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.
Vernal turned to him, nodding with a calm but firm expression. "I will," she confirmed. "But since you won't be traveling with us, I'm going to keep it simple, I'll teach you how to fight with your fists and how to handle a gun, nothing fancy—just enough to give you a fighting chance if things ever go sideways again,"
Whitley's face lit up with a smile, but Vernal quickly held up a hand to stop him.
"One thing, though," she said, her tone serious. "You have to do exactly as I say, especially when it comes to using a gun, this isn't a toy, Whitley—it's a tool, and it can kill, you'll treat it with respect, or we're done, got it?"
The gravity of her words made Whitley pause, but he nodded earnestly, his smile softer but no less genuine. "Yes, I understand, and... thank you, Vernal, truly,"
Vernal's smirk returned, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Don't mention it, kid, now, first things first—I'll take you to the gun range at Shade Academy, we'll get you familiar with the basics so you're comfortable handling one, after that, it's off to the arena for some hand-to-hand training, that sound good?"
"That sounds perfect," Whitley replied, his excitement clear in his voice.
"Good," Vernal said with a nod. She turned on her heel, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's get moving then,"
As Whitley hurried to keep up with her, Oscar and Deery exchanged glances before falling in step behind them.
"You're really going all-in on this, huh?" Oscar asked Vernal, a note of amusement in his voice.
Vernal glanced back at him with a smirk. "Kid's got guts for even asking, figured I'd reward that... Besides, everyone should know how to defend themselves,"
Deery chuckled, her hands resting behind her head. "Fair enough, guess we're in for an interesting day,"
Whitley glanced back at them, his smile growing wider. He felt a warmth in his chest, a mix of gratitude and determination. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was truly part of something—like he wasn't just a Schnee, but a person worth teaching and standing alongside.
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Whitley stood at the shooting range, his hands tightly gripping the pistol Vernal had lent him. The weapon felt heavier than he expected, but he steadied himself, the weight a small price for what he hoped to gain. With safety glasses on and ear protection snug over his ears, he focused down the range at the paper target. The faint outline of a human figure stared back, a bullseye painted neatly over its chest.
Vernal stood behind him, her hands lightly guiding his arms into position. "Alright, Whitley," she began, her voice calm and steady. "Hold the gun with both hands, just like I showed you, keep your grip firm but not too tight—you're controlling the gun, not wrestling it,"
Whitley nodded, adjusting his grip as she spoke.
"Now," Vernal continued, "The gun's got some recoil, after you shoot, it's gonna kick back a bit, don't fight it too hard, just make sure you're holding steady, relax your shoulders, take a deep breath, and focus down the sights, when you're ready, pull the trigger, no rush—let it come naturally,"
Whitley inhaled deeply, letting her words sink in. He'd watched her fire a few practice rounds earlier with impressive precision, her hands steady and her posture perfect. Now it was his turn.
"Got it," he said, his voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in his chest.
Vernal stepped back slightly, giving him space but keeping a watchful eye. "Good," she said with a small smile. "Take your time. You've got this."
Whitley steadied his breathing, his eyes narrowing as he aligned the gun's sights with the target's center. The world seemed to shrink, everything fading away except the bullseye in his line of sight. His finger rested on the trigger, hesitating for a moment as he gathered his courage.
Then, he fired.
The gun's sharp crack echoed through the range, and Whitley felt the jolt of the recoil in his arms. It wasn't as bad as he'd feared, though it left his heart pounding. He lowered the gun slightly to check the target and spotted a clean hit in the stomach area.
"Not bad," Vernal said, nodding with approval. "See? Nothing to it, just keep steady,"
Encouraged, Whitley raised the gun again, his confidence building. This time, he aimed higher, focusing on the bullseye at the target's chest. His hands felt steadier now, his breathing more controlled. He lined up the sights, made a minor adjustment, and fired again.
The second shot landed closer to the bullseye, just slightly off-center.
Vernal crossed her arms as she leaned against the table, watching Whitley carefully line up his shots and fire. A faint smile spread across her face as she saw how seriously he took her advice. When the range mechanism began to hum, bringing the paper target closer, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of how much effort he was putting into this.
When the target finally stopped in front of them, Whitley set the gun down on the table, safety on, just as she'd shown him. He removed his ear muffs, letting them rest around his neck, and turned toward Vernal with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. His small smile and raised brow were unmistakably seeking her approval.
"How was that, Vernal?" he asked, his voice carrying just a hint of uncertainty.
Vernal chuckled and gave him a playful nudge on the arm. "Ya did good, Whit," she said, her tone warm and genuine.
She stepped closer to the paper target, gesturing for Whitley to join her. Pointing to the neat holes in the paper, she began to analyze his shots. "Alright, so your first shot hit here—solid hit in the stomach, and look at this," she said, pointing to the second hole just a few inches from the heart. "Your second shot? Almost a bullseye,"
Whitley leaned in to inspect his handiwork, his smile widening as a small blush crept across his cheeks. "Really?" he asked, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself.
Vernal whistled, clearly impressed. "Not bad at all," she said, turning to face him with a grin. "You're pretty good for a first-timer, if you keep this up, you might even give me a run for my money someday,"
"Uh, thank you," Whitley said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Her praise felt... different—encouraging, almost familial. It wasn't something he was used to hearing.
Vernal reached for her pistol, shifting it back into its dagger form with practiced ease before sliding it into its sheath. "Seriously, kid," she added, "With a bit more practice, you might turn into a real sharp-shooter,"
Whitley's blush deepened at the compliment, but he quickly composed himself. Straightening his posture, he gave her a confident smile. "Well, I had a good teacher," he said.
Vernal laughed, the sound light and unguarded. "You're smooth for a Schnee," she teased. "Alright, Whit, now that we've got the basics outta the way, what do you wanna do next?"
Whitley glanced up at Vernal and gave a casual shrug, though there was a hint of excitement in his voice. "What do you want to do next?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.
Vernal mirrored his shrug with a laid-back grin. "Whatever you want, kid," she replied. "I sent Deery and Oscar to check in on Jaune, see if he's done handling those Shade students, once they get back, we can finally head into the city and do something fun,"
Whitley's eyes lit up at the mention of fun. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Well, once they're back, can we go to an arcade? I've always wanted to go to one, I've heard they're quite fun, but I've never had the chance,"
Vernal raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at her lips. "An arcade, huh?" she said, crossing her arms. "Never would've pegged you for a gamer, but yeah, no problem, we'll hit up an arcade if that's what you wanna do,"
Whitley's smile brightened instantly, his enthusiasm breaking through his usually composed demeanor. "Thank you, Vernal," he said earnestly.
"Don't mention it," Vernal replied with a chuckle, leading the way out of the gun range.
As they stepped outside, Whitley paused to take in the fresh air, a renewed sense of excitement bubbling within him. The thought of finally experiencing an arcade, something he'd only heard about in passing, made him feel almost like a normal kid—not the heir to the Schnee Dust Company or a figure constantly surrounded by expectations.
Vernal glanced at him as they walked. "So, any particular game you're hoping to try out, or you just wingin' it?"
Whitley pondered the question. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "I've read about arcade games, but I've never seen one in person, I suppose I'll try a bit of everything and see what I enjoy,"
Vernal smirked. "Fair enough, I'll show you the ropes, but don't expect me to go easy on you in any competitive games," she teased.
Whitley laughed, a sound that felt rare and refreshing to him. "I'll do my best to keep up," he replied with a playful challenge.
"That's the spirit," Vernal said.
As they waited for Deery and Oscar to return with news about Jaune, Whitley couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. For once, it wasn't about business meetings, high-society expectations, or his father's overbearing shadow. Today was about something simpler—fun, friends, and maybe even a little bit of friendly competition.
After a short wait, Oscar and Deery returned, Jaune trailing close behind. The blonde offered Whitley a warm smile, his demeanor easy and friendly as he approached. "Hey, Whitley," Jaune greeted, his tone light. "So, how'd it go at the gun range? Vernal didn't scare you off, did she?"
Whitley shook his head with a small smile. "Not at all," he replied. "She was a great teacher! I think I did fairly well for my first time,"
Jaune's smile widened. "That's great to hear, I'm glad you're picking it up so quickly," he said genuinely.
With the group now reunited, they set off, leaving the imposing walls of Shade Academy behind as they ventured into the bustling city below. Following the directions from Oscar's scroll, they made their way to a nearby arcade. It wasn't the largest in the city, but its neon lights, colorful signage, and faint hum of lively music made it clear this was a place where fun thrived.
Jaune stepped up to the counter and paid for a hefty stash of coins for the group, handing out the tokens with a grin. "Alright, have at it, everyone," he said. "Let's see who racks up the most wins today!"
The group split up, each gravitating toward games that caught their attention.
Vernal made her way to a row of shooting games, her eyes lighting up at the array of options. From zombie apocalypse scenarios to alien invasions, robot uprisings, and even a few hunting simulations, she tried them all. Her competitive streak came alive as she locked onto targets with precision, racking up high scores on multiple machines. A few of the games were based on popular shows and movies, and Vernal couldn't help but smirk as she blasted through the levels with ease.
Deery gravitated to a lively rhythm game with flashing arrows and a pulsating dance floor. The upbeat music blared as she stepped onto the platform, her moves quickly syncing with the beat. Arrows flew across the screen, but Deery hit them with precision, her agile footwork and timing drawing a small crowd of onlookers. By the end of the song, she was grinning from ear to ear, wiping a light sheen of sweat from her brow.
Jaune spent his time at a collection of pinball machines, testing his reflexes as he launched the ball and worked the flippers. He focused intently, smiling as he racked up impressive scores, the flashing lights and sound effects adding to the thrill. Eventually, he moved on to the fighting games section, where a joystick and a few buttons awaited his strategy. He took on a few AI opponents, grinning as he figured out combos and perfected his timing.
Oscar and Whitley found themselves drawn to the racing games, sitting side by side in the brightly colored racing pods. The game's screens lit up with vibrant tracks as they selected their cars and revved their engines.
The first race started as a fierce battle, with Oscar and Whitley exchanging the lead multiple times.
"Not bad, Whitley," Oscar teased as he crossed the finish line first.
Whitley chuckled, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Beginner's luck," he quipped, determination shining in his eyes.
The two continued their rivalry through several rounds, Oscar ultimately taking five victories to Whitley's two. Despite the losses, Whitley surprised even himself with how much fun he was having.
By the end of the session, Whitley leaned back in his racing pod, laughing as the "Game Over" screen flashed before him. It wasn't a laugh of defeat but one of pure, unfiltered joy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree, so... normal.
Vernal wandered over, leaning against the pod with a smirk. "Looks like you're not half bad at this whole 'fun' thing, huh?"
Whitley glanced up at her, his smile bright. "It's... different, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of it,"
Jaune, Deery, and Oscar rejoined them, each sharing stories of their triumphs and near-misses. The group's laughter filled the air as they exchanged playful banter, their camaraderie growing stronger with each passing moment.
For Whitley, this wasn't just a day at the arcade—it was a glimpse of a life beyond the walls of expectation, a life filled with friends, freedom, and the simple joy of being a kid.
Eventually, it was time for Whitley to return to his hotel. The group gathered with him near the pickup point, their conversations winding down as the sleek black limo approached. The driver, ever punctual, stepped out to open the door, but Whitley lingered a moment longer with his new friends.
"Take care of yourself, Whitley," Jaune said with a warm smile, giving the younger boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And don't forget—you're always welcome to hang out with us, seriously, don't be a stranger,"
"Yeah, kid," Vernal added with a smirk. "It's nice having you around, try to carve out some time to come back before you head back to the frozen north, okay?"
Whitley's smile was small but genuine, a spark of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. "I promise I will," he said sincerely. "Thank you, all of you,"
With that, he climbed into the limo, pausing briefly to look at them through the open door before closing it behind him. As the car pulled away, Whitley glanced back, catching the group waving until they faded from view.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the city lights flickering against the tinted windows of the limousine. Whitley leaned back into the plush leather seat, his thoughts still swirling from the day's events. He couldn't help but smile faintly as he replayed the laughter, the games, and the feeling of belonging—something he rarely experienced back in Atlas.
But his moment of reflection was interrupted by a soft buzz from his scroll. Curious, he pulled it from his pocket and unlocked the screen.
A notification blinked at him: Reminder: Board Meeting, 9:00 AM Tomorrow.
The light in his eyes dimmed as he read the message, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the reminder. He let out a heavy sigh, already dreading the endless hours of dull discussions, curt commands, and critical glares from his father.
For a fleeting moment, a rebellious thought crossed his mind. 'What if I just didn't show up? What if I stayed here another day and lived my life for once?'
But reality set in as quickly as the thought had formed. He could already hear his father's cold, cutting words and see the fury in his eyes if he dared to shirk his so-called "duties." The imagined confrontation sent a chill down his spine, and he clenched his fists tightly in frustration.
His anger burned quietly, simmering beneath the surface. He was angry at the suffocating leash his father kept on him, angry at the responsibilities thrust upon him simply because of his last name. Most of all, he was angry at himself—angry for still being afraid, for still being the obedient son who bowed under the weight of expectations he never wanted.
And then there was the loneliness. A bitter part of him resented his sisters, Weiss and Winter, for escaping the cage he still lived in. They had carved their own paths, leaving him behind to deal with their father alone. Did they even think about him? Did they remember he existed?
He was just like them—Winter and Weiss. Deep down, Whitley wanted the same thing they had: freedom. He wanted to escape the crushing weight of expectation and duty, to shake off the invisible chains that bound him to a life he had never chosen.
But here he was, stuck in a gilded cage, crafted meticulously by the very family he belonged to. His name, his heritage—it was supposed to be his pride, but more often than not, it felt like a curse.
Whitley leaned back against the plush seat of the limo, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. He let out a sigh, this one shaky, his breath trembling with frustration and longing. The emotions swirling inside him were almost too much to bear.
'I can't keep living like this,' he thought, the weight in his chest growing heavier.
He glanced out the window at the streets of the city, alive with activity, laughter, and freedom—everything he felt so far removed from. And yet, today had been different. With Jaune and the others, he had tasted something he hadn't had in years: normalcy.
They didn't treat him like a Schnee. They didn't treat him like someone fragile or insignificant. They didn't care about his last name, his family legacy, or the expectations he carried. They just... liked him. For him.
They let him have fun. They spoke to him as equals. They treated him like he was one of them.
And all of that—all of it—made Whitley's heart ache with a yearning he couldn't ignore.
'I wish I could be one of them...' he thought, the words settling heavily in his mind.
He wished he could leave behind the cold halls of his family's mansion, the suffocating boardrooms, and the icy expectations of his father. He wished he could travel with them, to explore the world, to face challenges and adventures not because it was expected, but because it was living.
A small, sad smile tugged at his lips. "If only things were that simple," he whispered to himself.
But they weren't. Not yet, anyway.
Still, Whitley resolved that before he had to return to Atlas, before he had to return to his cage, he would make the most of this time. He would spend as much time as he could with Jaune, Vernal, Oscar, Deery, and the others. They made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in years.
For now, that hope was enough to carry him forward.
As the limo pulled up to the hotel, Whitley forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't change everything overnight, but the day's experiences gave him a glimmer of hope. And for now, that hope was enough to carry him forward. Because maybe, just maybe, he could find the strength to break free one day.
And when that day came, he promised himself, he wouldn't let anything—or anyone—stop him.
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So, how'd you like Whitely's Chapter? Did you like it? Are you excited to see what's in store for him? Also, trust me, we haven't seen the last of Whitely as he's still got another chapter focused on him in this arc.
Anyway! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and are pumped for what's next because in the next chapter, its all about Oscar and Deery! Also, don't worry, after the next chapter and the one after that, we'll be returning to the main plotline with Jaune, and trust me, it's gonna be awesome!