Ronald snapped his eyes open. The dull morning light seeped through the tall windows. The air in the ballroom was still and heavy with odour. He checked the clock. He had exactly three hours before the Initiation. Great…

He sat up and pulled his hood up. The others were still snoring away, utterly unaware of their surroundings. They didn't even stir when he stepped over them. The cold wooden floor only squeaked a little under his feet. He crept towards the door and grabbed the handle, putting just enough force to open it.

He walked along the corridor and darted his eyes around. There was no one around, he was sure. With his guard remaining up, he went to an isolated bathroom area, removing his hoodie and pyjamas. He grabbed the blue tap handle and turned it. The sound of flowing icy water and his ragged breathing filled the bathroom. The solitude was helping. But he needed somewhere quiet for his prayer. Fortunately, he'd already found just the right place.

As he continued to the school garden, his running shoes tapped in the empty hallway. He softened his steps even further, hearing only the bird singing outside. But then, there were heels clicking not far from him. A professor turned a corner, heading directly at him. He flinched and turned away, but she was upon him. There was nowhere to run.

Glynda checked the time with widened eyes. "You are early. Breakfast won't be ready until the next hour."

Ronald swallowed hard and nodded. He kept his eyes low, staring at her black boots without a word. He didn't need to be in trouble on his first day.

"You are…Mr. Winston, correct? Your dedication is admirable. But you can overdo it."

He nodded again. His thumb pressed against the necklace around his waist. The ground should just swallow him up. Was he getting scolded? He must be if she was talking so much. But what else should he have done? Maybe she was annoyed that she found a student so early in the morning. But it should be fine if he made an excuse. Right?

"…I see." She cleared her throat. "Be mindful not to push yourself too hard. You are dismissed."

He dashed away without looking back. His footsteps were barely louder than his heartbeats. Nausea trapped in his throat. He leaned against the wall, gasping for air. Minutes or even hours could've passed for all he knew. When the panic subsided, he forced himself to count to five and released his sore thumb from his necklace.

"It's okay," he muttered. "I wasn't in trouble."

After his prayer and breakfast, it was late enough to collect his gear. Navigating the large locker room wasn't difficult, especially since no one was around. Lines of grey lockers were placed in the white-tilted room as far as he could see. It took a little time before he spotted his locker in the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief and retrieved his sword. It was a greatsword with his family design, still heavy in his hands. He brushed his finger along the pores on the blade, checking if they remained clean.

The loudening footsteps stiffened him up. He glanced at the approaching person. He was someone around his age. Short black hair, a plain white T-shirt, blue jeans, and an orange jacket. His face was also something you could find everywhere. He stopped in front of the locker next to Ronald. The air around Ronald became less claustrophobic, and he started breathing again.

The person took out his weapon in his locker. It was a glaive with an unusually short blade. He pressed a switch at the side. A small section of the handle bent downwards, and the blade retracted and rotated to the side. It was now a lever-action rifle without a buttstock.

"Nice sword. Did you make it?"

Every fibre of Ronald's muscles tensed up. His mind yelled at him to run away. But that man was blocking his path. Not to mention how weird he'd look if he ran. He should say something. He just needed to find the right words. Soon.

As if reading his mind, he tilted his head towards Ronald and smiled. "I'm Jonathan. What's your name?"

Good. Introductions. He could do introductions.

Ronald thrust his hand forward, slamming his fingers against the locker door. Ignoring the gnawing pain, he turned his hand towards the correct recipient.

"Ronald…" he muttered.

"Nice to meet you, Ronald." Jonathan maintained his smile and shook his hand. "I heard the Initiation can be a bit intense. But don't worry. The teachers will keep an eye on us. If anything goes wrong, they'll step in and help us."

That wasn't the point. But there was no reason to correct him.

"Ah, there's my locker!"

A blond man walked past them and touched the locker next to Ronald. For a moment, he was about to kiss it. But instead, he grabbed his sword and shield from the locker.

Jonathan chuckled. "Too many lockers, isn't it?"

"I know, right?! Why can't they just put them in different rooms?"

"How else would they test our memory?" Jonathan smiled. "I'm Jonathan."

"Jaune. Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."

He then turned his gaze at Ronald like he was expecting something. Ronald couldn't move from its intensity. His voice dried up in his throat. His legs softened and were on the verge of turning into jelly.

"He's Ronald."

"Oh. Hi, Ronald!" Jaune waved at him and looked downwards. "You have a sword too?! That's awesome!"

Ronald glanced at them and pressed his thumb into his necklace. His face twitched, and his lips stretched upward.

Jonathan hummed and closed his locker door. "I have to say, it's a bit unusual to have just a sword. In Signal, at least, they taught us our weapons should be versatile."

His words slapped Ronald out of whatever he was doing. He pressed a button on his hilt, and a "shing" later, his greatsword became a longsword. Small enough to fit the sheath on his back.

"That's so cool!" Jaune said.

"What about yours, Jaune? Any special features?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, I can make the shield smaller…" His shield shrank into a flat bar. "It's a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it in the war."

"Then I'm sure it won't fail you. A weapon with such a history is pretty reliable. It'll help you a lot when you become a Huntsman."

Jaune grinned and elbowed Jonathan. "And get all the ladies, am I right?"

Jonathan chuckled. "A bit early for that, isn't it? We should probably pass our Initiation before thinking about something like that."

"You don't know what you're missing out, man. Just yesterday, someone already got an eye on me. Look, she's right over there."

"…Which one? The girl on the left or right?"

"The snow angel."

"Oh!" Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Good for you. I didn't think you'd catch Weiss's attention… But I guess it'd be more surprising if it were the other one."

"What? What do you mean?"

"That's Pyrrha. She's the uncontested winner of the Mistral Region Tournaments. She'll probably be one of the most popular girls in our year."

"Hey! Are you saying I won't be popular, too?"

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Anyway, like I said, let's focus on the Initiation first… Um, Ronald? Are you okay?"

A stabbing pain pulsated in Ronald's chest. His breathing hitched in his throat. He could even smell how sweaty he was. The moment he saw that flicker of red hair, he should've known. Pyrrha was here. The rumours were true. She didn't stay in Mistral. But why? Why would she ever do that?

"Ronald? Where are you going?"

He heard Jonathan's voice, but he didn't care. He needed to get out of there; he mustn't face her again.

Author's Notes:

I actually had an arduous time editing this chapter. My guess is that I'm not used to characterising him yet.

In case you haven't noticed, Ronald is the embodiment of social anxiety. Don't worry, he'll get better. There's a reason why he's the way he is.

See you next week.