With time, and judicious use of a laser-spewing teenage girl alongside her army of robots, the commotion at Block E8 came to an end. The customers shifted away from the area to scatter throughout the fairground, and the vendors greeted them with renewed vigor now that their shops could do business. Peace returned to the Vytal Festival.
Noontime saw the Red Axes changing shifts, rotating in those members who had yet to do a stint behind the counter and letting the ones hard at work all morning have a chance to go enjoy themselves. Jaune, Melanie, and Miltia were no different, handing off their stall to a substitute crew. A new sign went up in front of the old one to advertise the new gimmick, super-sized portions of fried rice in lieu of pretty girls and speedy delivery, and business continued on with hardly a pause while the trio ran off into the crowd.
Their destination? Where Jaune's friends were. Because friendship mattered above all else.
"Bahahahahahahaha!"
Ruby Rose pouted, glaring at the boy and girls laughing like hyenas. She stared particularly hard at Jaune, deeming him the ringleader and main culprit by dint of him being Jaune. Which was fair.
"If you're not here to eat, leave," she said in an 'I'm so done' tone, though the maid outfit somewhat diminished the whole effect. A group photo on the wall of everyone after they finished setting up the cafe showed her with a wide, beaming grin full of vim and vigor. It juxtaposed interestingly with the girl a mere twelve hours later, leading Jaune to wonder what the heck happened in the intervening time.
"Wait, wait, wait," said Melanie, waving her hands in a placating manner. She leaned forward. "Aren't you going to say welcome home to us, too?"
"Yeah! And don't forget to do another curtsy—ooh, ooh, and call us Mistresses," Miltia added on.
Jaune noticed Ruby's gaze drifting over to the open doors next to them, no doubt debating the merits should she Semblance her way over there and slamming it shut on their faces—again, fair. He preempted that by stepping past the threshold into the Beacon Maid Cafe, drawing a disappointed sigh from his friend in the process. If they were still friends. He might now have become her sworn nemesis.
Ruby grumbled, "Nobody else made a fuss, why are you?"
"Yes, well, they probably didn't see you trip over your own feet, Ruby."
"Not to mention that bit at the beginning," Miltia pointed out. "Where you said 'Welcome home, da—' to Jaune."
Melanie moved in for the kill. "Were you really about to call him dad?"
Ruby's hand met her forehead with a smack as the three of them broke into renewed laughter. Likely, she knew deep down to her very soul that she will never put this behind her. Because Jaune would ensure that shall be the case.
Yet, she did not stay dispirited for long. In a sharp recovery punctuated by a petulant stomp, she jabbed a finger at Jaune. "I was distracted, okay!?" She took a half-step to the right, and by complete coincidence hid the scroll laying on the hostess podium, left open to a video explaining the mechanics of exploding-bullet modifications for sniper rifles. A subject near and dear to every girl's heart. "All I saw was blond hair, and I was supposed to say 'welcome home' and that made me think of my house, then my dad. It was an honest mistake!" She cut Jaune off as he went to respond. "Nuh-uh, you stay quiet. I'm finding you a table and making you someone else's problem. Also, just for this, you're getting the friend rates."
"A discount?" he asked, perking up.
"A tax." She grabbed a few menus and spun away, beckoning them to follow as she stalked off without another word.
Still snickering, Jaune's party followed her deeper into the room. Upgraded from a student lounge area, the restaurant had what could almost be called charm now. Its furniture comprised an eclectic mix of the many tables and chairs borrowed (stolen) from throughout Beacon. Covered in pristine white cloth, decorated with flowers and ribbons, they achieved a rather pleasing effect on the eye. Over in the corner, a partition had gone up to create a separate kitchen area. The curtains parted from time to time, with his classmates delivering new orders inside or coming out with dishes.
Scattered across the cafe were the titular maids of Beacon, their skirts swishing merrily as they sauntered between the tables. The clothes would never pass muster as those worn by maids from history, of course—the skirts abbreviated, the aprons frilly to an impractical degree. The individualistic culture has taken root here, too, and each person worked on their outfits further to suit their own tastes. Ribbons, lace, accessories, zippers, belts, deliberate frays and tears, chains, spikes, more spikes, skulls…the usual, nothing wild, but the end result ensured no two sets were identical. Uniforms lacking uniformity, they're a fantasy of what a maid corp could be, rather than the real article.
The people loved it, nevertheless, and business was booming for the cafe. Customers filled every seat, and no table remained empty for longer than a minute before a new group sat down. Conversations roared at a volume that drowned out the upbeat song played by overhead speakers, stoked further by the boisterous staff and their many antics—mainly Nora and Yang.
In a sly move, someone—and he'd just bet it was his teammates of JNPR, putting his lessons to use and making him so, so proud—had tuned the holoscreens on the walls to run various training and sparring videos, curated to showcase students of the four Academies. Those things were attracting their own set of avid customers, with analyses and arguments flying back and forth, inevitably accompanied by wagers placed to one of Oobleck's bookies hovering on the periphery of the byplay. Jaune would check with the professor for his cut later.
Something's odd, however. After scanning their surroundings—twice, even!—he asked, "Where's Pyrrha?"
"A couple of her fans almost had heart attacks freaking out on seeing her in a maid uniform," Ruby answered. "She decided to switch over to the cooking side for a while to let people calm down before she reappears again."
"That…" He wanted to sneer at those customers for their weak attitudes, but a glance at the two girls by his side, and he reevaluated his opinion. If they wore maid outfits and showed up in front of him, it would—guaranteed, no ifs, ands, or buts—strike a devastating blow to his psyche. There's not much room for him to talk. "I think I can get that."
"You would, weirdo."
"...Weren't you the cutesy one, Ruby? I remember all of you were discussing maid archetypes and calling dibs last week."
Nonchalantly, Ruby shrugged as she walked on. "I kicked it over to Velvet." She tucked the menus under her arms, then placed her hands above her head, holding them upright and side by side. "Can't beat the bunny ears, y'know?"
The person in question rushed by their party with nary a glance, four trays stacked on two arms filled with orders that people have put in solely for the sake of interacting with her. Either that, or everybody agreed as a collective to bully the girl by making her run pell-mell from the tables to the kitchen and back. It's a toss-up when it came to Velvet Scarlatina.
Their party moved on from there to eventually reach a vacant table, one that featured a stellar view of the outside courtyard through the window. With little fanfare, Ruby plonked down the menus and spun to face them. She rapped her knuckles on the surface.
"Here you are, table for three. I'll send your maid by shortly."
"Eeeeh?" Miltia whined. "Why can't it be you, Ruby?"
"That's right! We like you. You're fun," said Melanie.
Though they stated that as the reason, a distinct undertone of worry colored their words as the twins peered around the room. They eyed the passing maids, each a beauty, and frowned at whatever it was they found there.
"No can do," refuted Ruby. "I've gotta get back to manning the front door pronto. A queue is forming already." With a half-running, half-twisting motion, she transformed into a storm of rose petals that zoomed away at speed.
In her wake, the flower fragments drifted down from the air to land on the group. It coated their table and chairs, a dusting of red atop the white cloth that had Miltia sighing, a dreamy cast to her eyes.
"A shame she had to leave. But this, I like. Isn't it so romantic, Jaune?"
He spat out a petal that had gotten stuck in his throat, and gave her a thumbs-up.
Settling into their seats, Melanie at once opened one of the menus, with Miltia peeking over her shoulders to read the pages. Jaune, meanwhile, left his menu alone for the moment, kicking back on his chair to observe the cafe, finding his entertainment in the bustling atmosphere.
It's lively. Energetic. The hallmark vibe of Beacon, brought to a new stage. He spotted Yang off on the left side of the room, leading a whole family of kids, parents, and grandparents in a dance at their table. Further away, Nora sang happy birthday to a girl sitting alone, an upper-year student in Beacon's uniform, who was torn between gratitude and wanting to hide under the tablecloth. Close by, there's Weiss, who…
Huh. He didn't know she had a fanclub. He didn't know people he hung out with were in that fanclub.
A matchup in the tournament between Team RWBY and Team BRNZ would be quite interesting to watch. Mostly so he could see May panic when her allies go all sweet and sappy for their opponent.
Also, Blake was entirely too popular. The girl held a solid half of the customers under her sway, and if he was not mistaken there were even talent agents offering business cards to her—you can tell them by the intermittent twitches and the way they sniff the air on occasion, traits that the entire profession shares as an odd tic. She had garnered a fanclub of her own, like Weiss, only with no singing career needed. Those cat ears sure were something else.
The screech of chair legs sliding on tiles brought his attention back to the table, where he met the gazes of Melanie and Miltia. After a beat, they waved. Melanie blew him a kiss.
"What's up, Jaune?" Miltia asked.
Before responding, he checked the positions of their seats. Unless his eyes deceived him, he would swear they were now sitting a little closer to him. A long, searching look returned innocent smiles. They appeared oblivious as to the cause of his curiosity, tilting their heads in slight confusion.
"I could ask you the same," he ventured. "Were you staring at me this whole time?"
With a soft giggle, Melanie placed an elbow on the table, leaning forward. (Jaune's gaze darted lower for a split second.) She reached over with her other hand, tapping him on the tip of his nose with a finger.
"Course not, silly~"
"But, like, are maid outfits that fascinating?" Miltia chimed in.
That comment, he thought, was rather enlightening. It revealed to him a sliver of the truth behind their act.
He waggled his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Eh. It's less the clothes, and more what my friends are getting up to." An image resurfaced in his mind, once again seizing control of his senses. "Now, if you two were wearing them…" he breathed out in a soft murmur.
Taken aback, they stared at him, slack-jawed.
Reason came back during the brief pause in conversation, and he tacked on, "I didn't mean to say that."
Too late now, Melanie and Miltia communicated a silent conversation with their eyes. It grew animated, with hand motions employed to convey the proper emphasis. He understood maybe twenty percent of it, interpreting the meager amount of data given to anticipate what came next. The overall reception, he would say, seemed…encouraging.
Seconds later, they looked back at him with twin smirks.
"Halloween."
"Or birthday. We'll see how it goes."
Jaune fist pumped beneath the table, out of sight. Not that it worked. They knew him enough now to guess his reaction, and together with him they broke out in laughter.
Soon, the usual mood began to wrap around the three, isolating a little corner of the world that they could lose themselves in. He told them in detail the events of Block E8, and what greed had wrought when untempered by the bonds between individuals. The twins recognized the story beats all too quickly; it's a tale as old as time in the world of Yakuza and a lesson often learned too late, according to them, and as proven here. There was scant sympathy to be found among the trio, though, since they saw it as the vendors earning their just comeuppance.
Once his story winded down, Melanie and Miltia in turn recounted their experiences of the morning, both at the stall when he was away and with Melanie's stint in the food delivery industry. As a job, they concluded they'd never hold one down—there's too much temptation to clock a customer in the face. On the other hand, the festival vibes brought out all sorts of personalities, creating an experience unmatched; working here, one would meet interesting people.
The sheer amount of drama playing out could rival a soap opera. Better than a circus, Melanie deemed it. Something in the water, suggested Miltia.
Long lost family reuniting by coincidence. Multiple revenge plots put in motion. Pen pals seeing each other face to face at last and falling in love at first sight right in front of a food stall selling fried rice. The wife meeting the mistress, the husband running into the man on the side. A duel at high noon—nobody died, the twins lamented. A few guys dressed up as Grimm for a prank and nearly got stabbed and shot by the dozens of Academy students in the vicinity. There's a dog worth 3 million Lien running around off its leash.
"Say what!?" Jaune had to interrupt at that part.
Melanie waved a hand dismissively. "Don't bother, we already tried to look for it."
"Half the mooks in our crew are combing the grounds holding dog treats right about now," said Miltia.
"What else did I miss when I was gone…"
He thought he had a noteworthy adventure. Turns out, everybody and their mother did.
"A lot. We'll tell you all about it."
"But you're up next! Did you see anything cool during your trip to Block E8?"
"You know, in fact I did…" and he launched into a new story.
Thus back and forth they went, the topic flowing from one thing to another without end, and if they noticed that the server was taking longer than expected to appear, well, that just gave them more time to spend together without interruptions. It's a situation they could live with.
So hopeless were they, that they almost missed the moment their maid entered the stage.
Almost. That quickly changed, for the world itself seemed to pivot towards the new arrival, drawn by the weight of their presence. Jaune wasn't certain what clued him in. Maybe it's the noise level becoming just a tad quieter, with his own words sounding too loud as a consequence. Or, perhaps, the air grew a touch warmer to beget a mild discomfort. It could be a minute change in the expressions of Melanie and Miltia, a widening of the eyes and slight parting of their lips from surprise. Whatever the case, it prompted him to swivel on his seat, and look behind him.
What strode across the cafe floor was a vision of beauty.
Soft skin shining aglow. The delicate shape of the face, so reminiscent of a doll. Calm and placid as pools of water, those lidded eyes. In each movement, a flowing grace. A flick of the hand, and silky, raven locks fluttered in the air.
A captivated audience watched in a stupor. Conversations fell one by one, the breaths stolen from those who were speaking, while the music of the cafe seemed to swell in answer, a melodious accoutrement to the maid's dainty steps. Whether by instinct or respect or an outbreak of sudden blushing shyness—a terrible disease that often afflicts Academy students—the guests cleared a path, and one could imagine a spotlight illuminating the maid to proclaim that no other person could exist within this space. Men and women alike drooled, with a few scrambling to put together bouquets from the cafe's flower decorations as a display of their affection. Many tears fell when the maid met these offers with a roll of the eyes and a breathy sigh that pinned the suitors in place, their hands clutching their hearts in utter infatuation.
Perhaps it's these details—the Mistralian features, the command of attention, the coquettish charm—reminding him of the two girls by his side, but Jaune felt a deep sense of familiarity with this maid.
Or, maybe, that's because this was Ren in a maid uniform.
Maid Ren came to a stop before their table. In a practiced motion, he removed a notepad and pen from a pocket hidden in the skirt of the outfit.
"Welcome to the Beacon Maid Cafe, where defenders of Remnant banish the darkness from your day. What are you getting?" intoned a man sentenced to the gallows, for such was the voice with which Maid Ren spoke, bereft of all spirit and life.
"Holy crap I thought you were a girl," Melanie blurted out. Miltia nodded numbly in agreement, her eyes darting up and down the boy's figure, scouring for a single flaw; she was sorely disappointed in that regard.
"Are you sure you're not a girl?" Jaune asked. Yes, he and Maid Ren spent most of the year in the same dorm. No, prior evidence was no longer sufficient.
"I'm pretty ("Yes, you are!" yelled a person in the background, sounding very much like Yang.) sure, Jaune." Then, in a louder, carrying voice. "And if people would stop reacting like I'm some kind of fairytale princess come to life whenever I show my face out here, I'd appreciate it. The joke got old after the first time. I don't even look that cute!"
The ensuing scoffs from all four corners of the room synchronized to create one big roar that shook the windows. Jaune vaguely waved his arms in their direction as a rebuttal to Maid Ren, which earned him a sullen stare.
"...Just tell me what you want, already." No 'master', no 'how may I serve you', this maid bucked the bygone hierarchy of the past to put himself at the top, becoming the one that gave orders.
Too bad for him, the leader of Team JNPR was sitting over here. Where would Jaune be, if he allowed insubordination? Dominance must be asserted.
He opened his mouth, a teasing quip ready to launch. That gave way to pause as, with a quick twirl of the pen, Maid Ren set the writing tool in an offensive knife grip. His teammate had a light in his eyes that spoke of imminent violence, possibly involving the pen lodging in Jaune's throat, Aura be damned.
…On second thought, he could stand to give ground once in a while. Kings do it all the time whenever they wish to avoid having their heads chopped off on the guillotine, so it still counted as leadership. Wisely, he shut his mouth, playing it off with a cough.
"Let me check what's available real quick."
Picking up the menu, Jaune flipped to the first page, using it as cover to hide from the unrelenting death glare. That soon grew into actual interest as he perused the listed items.
He had a faint idea of what his friends intended to sell before the place ever opened for business; they sourced their ingredients through his suppliers, after all—and succeeded in wheedling a discount out of him to boot. Still, seeing the completed meals was an entirely different experience. Some of these required a respectable amount of skill to cook. Like, wow.
"Sushi? I thought the fresh fish you requested was for frying, at best. Nobody told me you guys knew how to make sushi! Since when was that a thing?"
In particular, he was angling for a name, because whoever it was had been holding out this whole year. They owed him months' worth of the stuff, for all the times he had to fly over to Vale or simply go without. Hell, he could have arranged quite a lucrative deal for them to provide it at the convenience store he ran!
"We have sushi."
The careful phrasing was very concerning.
Jaune peeked up from the menu, meeting Maid Ren's blank face. Suspiciously blank. "Yeeeah," he began, slow and hesitant. "But does somebody in the back know how to make sushi, was my question."
"Stop asking questions, then," came the blithe reply.
He gulped.
"…Ren, will I die if I order the sushi?"
"You'll live," the other boy assured him. Then… "Now, if we're talking lifespan."
Lifespan what? Lifespan what?
"I think I'm gonna go with an omelet."
Maid Ren jotted it down on his notepad. "Understood."
"Cooked until it's burnt to prevent anything your 'chefs' do that may get me sick."
"A fine choice." Maid Ren nodded with approval.
On the other side of the table, Melanie and Miltia, having watched the byplay, hurriedly opened the menu to revise their orders. Minimal steps and extreme temperatures were their friends here, to decrease risk to health. Miltia opted for a burger in the end, banking on nobody being able to mess up two buns, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and ground beef (grilled to well-done just to be certain). Melanie, the more daring of the pair, chose a bowl of ramen. Her reasoning was that the boiling broth would render the high number of ingredients safe for consumption, even if the individual items going into the bowl may be prepared wrongly (or poisonously).
Despite their caution, neither they nor Jaune could resist ordering a selection of cakes for their table, thoughts of dairy products and the lethal possibilities therein put aside when faced with temptations of the chocolate and vanilla varieties. (And strawberry for Miltia, but they don't talk about that.)
"And lastly, drinks. What are you feeling?" Maid Ren asked, not even attempting to bother with a professional facade. His classmates got him to dress like a maid, but it seemed he wasn't going to make it easy for them by acting the part.
"Bubble tea?" Jaune ventured. That should be okay. It's premixed, to his knowledge.
"We're sold out of bubble tea."
"Whuh—really? This is the first day of the festival. Is it that popular?"
"Well, no, not really. We didn't have a chance to sell a single cup," Maid Ren admitted. "Ruby went on a bender and drank all of it yesterday."
Jaune blinked, flummoxed. "Ren, you guys ordered the stuff through me. I picked it up in Vale. The amount that I brought back could kill a person." His gaze darted to the entrance of the cafe, where Ruby was greeting a new group of customers.
She looked remarkably alive. For now.
Maid Ren noticed where his attention was, and he shared the same look of concern. "We know. We're not sure how she's survived, either. I have noticed that her attitude has been kind of off today. Given how much sugar she consumed, I suspect she's been on a perpetual downward slide from the sugar high since then."
And that explained the absence of cutesy maid Ruby, replaced by the grouchy girl ready to commit violence upon the world. Well, on him, at any rate.
Shaking his head, Jaune gave the menu one last glance before closing it. He passed it to Maid Ren. "I'll take a glass of water, in that case." Other options were rather worrisome, considering. A step too far on the wild side, and this was coming from a guy that lived at a nightclub and bar for the summer.
"Same."
"Ditto."
Melanie and Miltia agreed with the sentiment, it seemed. Maid Ren collected their menus, sparing not another word as he scooted off to the staff area, glad for the chance to pass from view of the audience.
Their party watched him leave, still not quite believing their eyes.
"Is it me, or does it feel like flowers should be sprouting around him when he moves?" said Miltia.
Melanie slapped a palm on the table. "I know, right?" She whirled towards Jaune. "Where does he get his hair done? Because I need, need, need to book an appointment there."
Her and Jaune both. The boy's hair looked fantastic.
Beyond that, words could not adequately convey how well Maid Ren suited the outfit. A person unfamiliar with Jaune's teammate would have pegged—wait, revise that. They would have assumed him a woman on the first, second, and third glance. Even the voice—this seductive, husky whisper which the boy kept falling into—lent to the image.
Some people just make a dress look good, Jaune supposed.
Aaaand now Melanie was staring at him.
"I wonder…" she began, holding her chin. Her head slowly tilted to the side as she studied him.
He knew that face. It spelled nothing good.
"What?"
"You'll think it's silly, but I kind of had this thought that you would have given him a run for his money."
Miltia scoffed. "Are you serious, sis? That would never work. Jaune's manly!" She leaned over and clung to his arm. Her eyes raked up and down his body, finishing with a saucy wink to convey how much she liked what she saw.
He appreciated the ego boost. That said, they were lingering a little too long on this subject. Perhaps a riveting discussion on the mechanics of exploding-bullet modifications for sniper rifles would be better? Please?
Unfortunately, Melanie was unwilling to let it go. "Yeah, but…" She framed a rectangle with her fingers, centering on Jaune. "The shape of his face, the delicateness of the cheekbones, that cute way his eyes soften at the corners. The muscles of his body form a tight frame, and the height means he doesn't appear bulky. Like, I can sort of see it? Imagine, Mil."
Don't imagine, Mil.
"Oh."
Damn.
He had an inkling of what they wanted to see. And frankly, he would do a lot of things if they ask, legal or otherwise. Has done, in truth.
Would he wear a dress for them? Yes.
But there was no need to advertise that fact.
"Hey, how's that dumb cat of ours doing? I haven't seen it in a while."
An offended gasp, and Melanie shot back, "He's not dumb! He's the smartest kitty in the world!"
Miltia's scroll appeared on her hand in a flash.
"What she said! Look, look, he can do math!" She loaded up a video, and pressed the alleged proof of feline genius to his face.
The cat with white fur he rescued from a tree so long ago (and which subsequently betrayed his kindness by having the audacity to monopolize the twins' attention) was indeed featured in the video. He would not call rolling around on the bar counter and mauling sheets of papers with numbers written on them as 'doing math'. Any correct solution to the equation, he posited, would be incidental to the goal of causing a shredded mess of confetti.
Still, it's distraction accomplished, and Jaune played along. If gushing over his archnemesis was the price for him to avoid a skirt, so be it.
The hypnotic allure of cat videos kept the trio occupied for a good while. Enough that Jaune did not need to induce a new subject change to steer the conversation away from topics that shall never see the light of day again. To be certain, however, he maintained a heightened state of alert right up until their meals arrived.
In yet another performance that would lead angels to weep and hearts to break, Maid Ren reappeared by their table. Gracefully, each movement a memory to treasure, the maid placed down the plates.
"Here. here. Here. Done."
That customer service, though.
Perfunctory, he did the bare minimum. More than that, it felt rushed. So soon after their second interaction, Maid Ren already seemed eager to exit the stage.
"Okay, are we good? Everybody has what they ordered? Very well, enjoy your meal. Bye."
Maid Ren had taken one stride when an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back. In shock, he turned to the person responsible, coming face to face with Yang's grinning visage. The blonde waggled her finger at her fellow maid.
"Tsk, tsk. Isn't there something you forgot, Ren?"
Silence.
"The special service?" Yang pressed. "C'mon, we all worked hard on it. Pleeeease?" She stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
The sound of grinding teeth was the only thing to greet her, and she looked down at the floor in dismay.
Let it be known that Maid Ren was not heartless. The boy heaved a sigh, and returned to position in front of the table. He picked up a ketchup bottle, then indicated the omelet.
"Would you like to perform the magic spell with me?" he said through gritted teeth.
His eyes promised death.
Jaune, Melanie, and Miltia looked at each other. In a rare occurrence, Jaune was able to join the twin's nonverbal discussion with crystal clear clarity. Reaching an unanimous agreement, they turned back to the waiting maids.
"Of course we do!" they shouted.
Author's Notes: I have no plans for a beauty contest chapter, because if I did, I would absolutely end up shoving Ren, Jaune, and most of the other guys in there, then have them outshine the female cast.
.
Lured in by the cat ears, talent agents are sneaking over from one of my other stories.
.
What?
Ren is evolving!
*magical girl transformation*
Congratulations!
Your Ren has evolved into Maid Ren!