Chapter 44: Free to choose
Reviews:
XXxxxadisxxxXX: Thanks for the feedback and I actually went back and rewrote the first two chapters so hopefully those chapters improved! I also hope you read more of the new chapters and had a better read.
Guide: We'll eventually get Nicholas' point of view around the 2nd part of the story since I do plan on having him appear, and I think by that time, Jaune and Vernal should have gotten closer in terms of their relationship.
Guest: Deery doesn't have a crush on Jaune, but admires him like Oscar does. And yes, DeeryXOscar or DeeryFarmer is what I'm hinting at, and Oscar's semblance has already been unlocked and while some sort of time manipulation would've been cool, Oscar's Semblance is similar to Jaune's because of how much Oscar aspires to be like Jaune, and because Oscar in this story is his own person and not a host of Ozpin.
InfamouslyHandsome: That was always the goal with Oscar, to make him his own character while being influenced by Jaune, and because of Jaune's impact on his life, Oscar was always meant to become Jaune's "Apprentice" in a sense. And yeah, we've got a found family in this little group, we've got the cooky grandma in Maria, the mother and father in Jaune and Vernal, and the adopted children in Oscar, Deery, and... maybe Whitely?
blaiseingfire: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ITS FUNNY YOU THINK I WON'T FOLL YOU A 2ND TIME, BECAUSE I WILL I'M LIKE FUJIMOTO UP IN THIS BITCH! Lol! Yeah it's a little bit of accidental rasicam, but it's literally the only nickname I could think of! If you got any better I'd actually love to hear them. I actually plan on explaining why Winter and Weiss didn't text/call Whitely after the train incident in the 2nd part of the story while just flat-out telling you that Jacques just straight up didn't care and Willow is drinking herself into unconciousness because she feels guilty that she, in her own way, put her son in that situation.
Jaune x Vernal: Indeed, despite her denying it, Vernal has officially become MAMA VERNAL! And trust me, we'll see more of mama Vernal in this chapter and more through out the story in small moments!
A/N:
Hey everyone, just a quick update before we dive into the chapter.
Recently, my original Tumblr account was unexpectedly terminated for reasons unknown, and to say that it hit me hard would be an understatement. I had so many posts, funny ones, sad ones, even ones that related to some of my stories, and just a lot of things I really enjoyed. Losing all of that in an instant was pretty fucking heartbreaking and for a while, it put me down in the dumps.
But I won't let this keep me down! I've started fresh with a brand-new Tumblr account because, realistically, I doubt I'll be getting my old one back anytime soon, if ever... So, for those of you who follow me over there, you can now find me at rnr7575 (or RnR7575 the II if you prefer a sequel vibe).
Despite the bummer of losing my old account, I'm not letting it get in the way of my writing! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because—drumroll please—we're finally diving back into Jaune's storyline! Get ready for what's to come because things are about to get intense!
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The room Shade had provided for the group wasn't exactly luxurious, but it was comfortable enough—a place to rest, to gather, and sometimes, to have conversations like this. Whitley sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, his hands clasped together, while Vernal leaned against the nearby desk, arms crossed as she studied him. She could see it plain as day—the tension in his posture, the uncertainty in his expression.
Something was weighing on him.
"So," Vernal finally said, breaking the silence. "What did you wanna talk about, Whit?"
Whitley hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly. "I, uh... I've been thinking a lot lately, about what I want to do—for my future," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.
Vernal raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that already set in stone? You're supposed to take over the SDC, right?"
"That's what I thought I wanted, but I... I don't think I want to do that anymore," He looked up at her then, determination flickering in his pale blue eyes. "I want to join you guys, I want to come along on whatever adventures you have, learn how to fight, how to survive—I want to become a Huntsman... I want to be more than just the heir to the SDC or the Schnee name,"
Vernal remained silent for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, she let out a slow breath and leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. "Whitley, you have to understand—this isn't just some fun road trip we're on," she said, her voice firm. "What you're asking for? It's a life-changing decision, you're talking about walking away from everything—your family, your fortune, your safety—to live a life where we're constantly on the move, fighting to survive,"
Whitley nodded, but Vernal wasn't finished.
"We don't just fight Grimm, we fight people. And sometimes, that means making choices you can't take back." she continued as her gaze sharpened. "Most of us in this group have taken lives, it's not something we enjoy, but it's something we've had to do, if you really want this, if you really want to join us, you have to be ready for that, for all of it,"
Whitley swallowed, but he didn't look away. He'd expected this reaction. Hell, he would've been disappointed if Vernal hadn't warned him.
"I know it won't be easy," he admitted. "But staying where I am—that's not easy either, my father sees me as nothing more than an extension of himself, my mother barely acknowledges my existence unless she needs another drink, and my sisters? Winter's always been a soldier, Weiss has always had her own path... and me? I was always just "the heir" and I want to be more than that,"
Vernal studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
Whitley took a deep breath, steadying himself. His hands curled into fists, not out of anger, but determination. "I know exactly what it means if I choose to walk the same path as you and the others, I've seen it firsthand—on that train," His jaw tightened. "I told you before, Vernal... I never want to feel that powerless again,"
He looked up at her then, eyes burning with something deeper than just resolve.
"I want to learn how to protect myself, I want to know how to be strong, like you," He exhaled, forcing himself to say the words he had been holding back for so long. "You, Oscar, and Deery... you treated me like I mattered, more than just a name, more than just an heir,"
His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on.
"When I was with you guys, I felt like I belonged, not as a Schnee, not as my father's son, just... Whitley," He swallowed hard, something raw in his expression. "And I—I felt at home,"
Vernal didn't reply right away. She could see how much those words had cost him. It wasn't just a confession—it was a release. A truth he had been too afraid to admit, maybe even to himself. And yet, saying it out loud had both hurt and freed him.
Something tugged at her chest—a feeling she wasn't entirely used to. Sympathy? Understanding? Maybe both.
She let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of her neck. "Damn, kid..." she muttered, shaking her head. "You really know how to drop a bomb on someone, don't you?"
Whitley let out a small, breathy laugh, but it was laced with exhaustion. "Sorry,"
Vernal sighed, running a hand through her hair before crossing her arms. "Look... I get it, more than you probably think," She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're serious about this?"
Whitley nodded without hesitation. "I am," He said with a stern tone.
Vernal chuckled, "Didn't think you had that much fire in you," she told him.
Whitley huffed. "I am a Schnee, you know," he said. "We can be pretty stubborn at times,"
Vernal chuckled once again. "Heh, that I believe," She stretched and stood up. "Alright, Whit, I'm not saying yes or no right now, but if you really want this? You'll have to prove it, understood? No handouts, no special treatment, you pull your weight, you learn, and you fight like the rest of us,"
Whitley met her gaze without hesitation and gave a firm nod. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Vernal smirked, shaking her head. "You say that now, but we'll see how long that bravado lasts after I'm done with you." She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. "You'll be sparring with Oscar, Deery, me—and Jaune, whenever he's not busy getting challenged every five seconds." She muttered the last part under her breath, rolling her eyes.
Whitley took a steady breath before nodding. "Thank you, Vernal, I won't let you down, I promise... I'm ready for this,"
Vernal studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, her gaze hardened. "I hope so, Whitley," she said, voice firm. "Because I need you to understand something—if I see that you can't handle this, that you're not ready for what this life will demand of you... I will take you back home, I'd rather have you safe and unhappy than unprepared and dead—or worse,"
Whitley swallowed, feeling the weight of her words settle on his shoulders. He knew Vernal wasn't trying to scare him, but she wasn't sugarcoating the reality either. The path he wanted to walk was dangerous, filled with hardships he could only begin to understand.
Slowly, he nodded. "I understand,"
"Good." Vernal's serious expression softened just a little. "You've got potential, and you were decent with my pistol before, so first, I'm going to drill you on firearms until it's second nature, after that, we'll move on to advanced techniques, then sparring with the others,"
A determined smile tugged at Whitley's lips. "Sounds like a plan,"
Vernal smirked. "Alright, then," She reached for her belt, securing the holsters of her knives before jerking her head toward the door. "Let's hit the range, I want to see if you're as good as you think you are,"
Whitley stood, straightening his posture. "Then let's find out,"
Vernal let out a chuckle, shaking her head as they stepped out of the room. "Oh, you're in for it, Schnee,"
With that, the two headed toward the shooting range, where Whitley would begin his first real lesson in survival.
For the first time in his life, Whitley felt truly free. Free to choose his own path, free to decide his own fate, and for once, the suffocating expectations that had weighed on him for years—expectations he hadn't even fully realized were there—lifted from his shoulders like a breath of fresh air.
This was his decision. His choice. And he wasn't going to take it lightly.
Vernal had warned him. She had made it clear that this life was brutal, unforgiving. That if he showed weakness—if he hesitated—she would take him back home. But Whitley refused to let that happen. He was going to prove himself. He was going to show Vernal, show everyone, that he could handle this life, that he could stand beside them as an equal, not as a pampered heir to a corporate empire.
He was a Schnee. And when a Schnee set their mind to something, there wasn't a force in the world that could stop them.
Some might say he was following in his sisters' footsteps. Maybe he was. But he wasn't doing this for the same reasons they had.
Winter had run from their family, severing herself from their father's influence as completely as she could. Weiss had left to spite their father, to prove that the Schnee name wasn't tarnished beyond repair, that it could stand for something good.
But Whitley? He wasn't running. He wasn't trying to reclaim the name. He wasn't rejecting or embracing his legacy—he was simply refusing to let it define him.
He wasn't just a Schnee. He was Whitley.
And this journey—this choice to train, to fight, to carve his own place in the world—was about something far greater than family, reputation, or revenge.
It was about him.
He wanted to be stronger, not just in body, but in spirit. He wanted to understand what it truly meant to stand on his own. And most of all... he wanted to discover who he really was.
This was the beginning of that journey.
No matter how difficult it became, no matter how much pain he endured, no matter how many times he failed—he would not quit. He would not turn back.
Not until he found his answer.
That was a promise.
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The streets of Vacuo were alive with the energy of the desert city, lanterns casting a warm glow over the sand-swept roads, the laughter and chatter of its people carrying through the air. Jaune moved with purpose, his boots kicking up dust as he made his way toward the Flower-Fruit Dojo, the place Dew had spoken so highly about. She had given him directions after he mentioned wanting to see Sun, and now, after everything, he was finally going to meet the man everyone at Shade Academy seemed to revere.
After what felt like countless battles—sparring against student after student, victory after victory—Jaune still couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
He wasn't struggling. In fact, he had been winning—a lot. And yet, despite all those victories, despite all the praise he had received for his skill, something didn't sit right with him. It gnawed at him, a persistent thought scratching at the back of his mind since his fight with Dew.
What was he missing?
No matter how many times he replayed that fight in his head, no matter how many times he analyzed his movements, compared his form, his speed, his strength—it still wasn't clear. Was it his technique? His footwork? His reaction time? His weapon?
He had come so far since his time at Beacon, since his days of fumbling through training with Crocea Mors. He had sharpened himself through battle, through struggle, through loss. He had improved, but not enough.
And that was what bothered him.
When he thought about what made Sun different, he couldn't help but compare him to the fighters he had known, the ones who had been on another level.
Pyrrha was the first to come to mind.
Pyrrha had been a natural prodigy. She was more than just strong—she was flawless in combat. Her movements were fluid, precise, and without hesitation. Every strike, every block, every counterattack was executed with perfect control. When she threw her shield, it wasn't just an attack; it was a calculated move that left her enemies exposed while she followed up with devastating efficiency. Her swordplay was sharp, refined, and unrelenting.
And then there was her Semblance.
Polarity had given her a level of control over the battlefield that few could rival. Nearly every weapon was made of metal, and she had the power to manipulate them at will—redirecting strikes, disarming opponents, shifting the course of battle with the subtlest flick of her wrist. Combined with her agility, which rivaled the likes of Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Ren, Pyrrha had been the pinnacle of a true warrior.
She had been called the Invincible Girl for a reason.
And yet, Jaune had seen her fall.
Then, his mind shifted to someone entirely different. Raven Branwen.
Even thinking about her made his blood boil, but he couldn't deny the truth—Raven was deadly. She was said to be the most dangerous woman in the world, and she had earned that title.
Pyrrha had been exceptional, but Raven? Raven was something else entirely.
Her speed, her skill, her raw experience—they were unmatched. She didn't just fight; she dominated. Her movements were so fast that even trained warriors struggled to keep up. Her swordplay wasn't just honed, it was perfected over years of battle.
Jaune had fought her once. He had won.
Or at least, he thought he had.
That doubt gnawed at him, had he truly won that fight? Or had she let him? That bothered him more than anything else. Was it luck? A fluke? Or had she allowed him to win? And if that was the case... why?
Jaune let out a frustrated breath, ruffling his blonde hair.
Then, there was Tai.
Tai wasn't like Pyrrha or Raven. He didn't have the overwhelming presence of a warrior who demanded the battlefield's attention. He wasn't a force of nature, nor did he carry the reputation of an untouchable legend. But Jaune would be lying if he said he didn't consider Tai to be one of the strongest fighters he had ever seen.
And yet... it wasn't Tai's physical strength that stood out.
It was something else.
Tai carried himself differently. There was no desperation in his attacks, no tension in his stance. He fought with a calm that almost felt unnatural, as if he had nothing to prove, nothing to fear. Even when Jaune had seen him sparring, there was never a moment where Tai looked like he was trying. He moved effortlessly, without hesitation or wasted motion, never overcommitting, never panicking.
It was after he left that Jaune had figured out that Tai had found a kind of peace that allowed him to fight without anger, without frustration. And that, more than anything, was what made him dangerous. There was no self-doubt, no hesitation, no reckless aggression in his movements. He was steady, unwavering—like a river flowing around the obstacles in its way rather than smashing through them.
And the more Jaune thought about it...
The more he realized that Sun carried that same energy.
That easy-going, almost carefree air that made it seem like nothing in the world could shake them. That confidence, not arrogance, but true confidence, made it feel as if they had already figured something out that Jaune hadn't.
It wasn't just skill. It wasn't just experience.
It was something more.
Tai and Sun didn't fight like they had to win. They fought like they knew they would. Like the outcome had already been decided long before the first strike was ever thrown.
Jaune exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his sword's hilt.
'What was it?' He asked himself. 'What did they understand that I don't?'
He was close—he could feel it.
After a few more minutes of walking the sandy streets of Vacuo, Jaune finally found it—the Flower-Fruit Dojo.
He stopped just outside the building, taking it in with quiet admiration.
The dojo had a certain charm to it, an almost whimsical atmosphere that set it apart from the rest of Vacuo's rugged architecture. The name of the dojo was painted in bold, sweeping letters above the entrance, and actual vines stretched along the exterior walls, curling around wooden beams and archways. But what caught Jaune's attention the most were the fruits growing on those vines—clusters of grapes, fuzzy kiwis, and bright, plump strawberries dangled freely, swaying slightly in the desert breeze.
It was... unexpected.
Vacuo was a harsh place, defined by survival and scarcity, yet this dojo stood here as a pocket of abundance and warmth, something that shouldn't belong but thrived anyway. It made Jaune smile a little.
Taking a breath, he stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the rhythmic clack of wood striking wood.
A group of young kids, no older than ten or eleven, were training together in synchronized movements, each wielding a wooden staff. Their stances weren't perfect, but there was discipline in their strikes, a steady rhythm that spoke of repeated drills and genuine effort. They moved as one, shifting between offensive and defensive motions under the watchful gaze of their instructor.
At the front of the room stood a young woman, most likely in her mid to late twenties, though possibly in her early thirties. She exuded a presence that was both relaxed and commanding—not the kind that demanded attention, but the kind that simply earned it.
Her hair was a striking shade of orange, tied up into a wild, spiky ponytail that almost seemed to defy gravity. Her eyes, a sharp and electric blue, reminded Jaune of Nora's—full of energy, like lightning barely contained within a storm cloud.
She wore a dark red poncho that draped over her shoulders, decorated with intricate golden cloud patterns. Beneath it, a sleeveless black shirt revealed toned arms, wrapped in a pair of leather bracers the same muted gold as her simple yet sturdy sandals. Around her waist was a dark red cloth belt, wrapped in a way that almost resembled bandages, securing a pair of loose black pants that cut off just above her calves.
And slowly moving behind her, swaying in an almost lazy rhythm, was an orange tail.
'A Faunus?' Jaune thought, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
It didn't take him long to put the pieces together. A Monkey Faunus, staff training, a confident yet carefree presence... This had to be Starr Sanzang, Sun's cousin.
Jaune barely had time to take in the scene before Starr noticed him. With a sharp whistle, she signaled her students to stop their drills. The rhythmic clashing of wooden staffs came to an abrupt halt as every pair of young eyes turned toward him.
Starr rested a hand on her hip, her electric blue eyes narrowing slightly as she looked Jaune up and down. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked, one brow arching in curiosity.
Jaune suddenly felt very out of place. He scratched the back of his head before quickly answering. "Oh, uh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm looking for Sun," He gestured vaguely toward the dojo. "I'm Jaune, and he-"
Before he could finish, one of the kids suddenly gasped.
"No way! You're Jaune Arc!?" a boy cried out, eyes wide with excitement.
Jaune blinked in confusion. "Uh... yes?"
The moment he confirmed his identity, a wave of excited chatter exploded through the group.
"My sister told me you wiped the floor with her!" another boy said, pointing at Jaune as if he were some kind of mythic figure. "Sun also said you were really strong!"
"Yeah! Big bro told us you were crazy strong!" came another excited voice from the crowd.
"He even said you might be just like him!" a young girl added, her tone filled with awe.
"Are you really as strong as Sun!?" another student piped up eagerly.
Jaune took a half-step back, his brain short-circuiting as the kids swarmed him with questions. He wasn't used to this kind of attention—at least, not from a group of hyperactive, wide-eyed children who looked at him like he was some kind of hero.
Starr, clearly entertained by the whole situation, chuckled as she watched Jaune squirm. "Alright, alright, ya brats, settle down!" she called out, clapping her hands once. "You can all ask him questions later, after he and Sun have their little chat,"
The kids groaned in unison, a chorus of disappointed aww's filling the room, but they obeyed, begrudgingly returning to their practice stances.
Jaune let out a small breath of relief as Starr turned back to him, smirking. She casually jabbed her thumb toward the back of the dojo.
"He's out there in the back, probably still training," she said, her voice laced with amusement.
With a nod of thanks, he made his way toward the back, still hearing the kids whisper excitedly about him as he went.
Jaune stepped into the back courtyard of the dojo, expecting to find Sun engaged in routine training—maybe running through basic drills or practicing katas. But what he saw was something entirely different.
Sun wasn't just practicing.
He was fighting.
At first, Jaune thought Sun might have been sparring with someone, but there was no opponent in sight. The more he watched, the more he realized that Sun wasn't battling an unseen enemy—he was fighting himself.
It wasn't just idle shadowboxing. Sun was his own opponent, dodging, countering, and weaving through attacks that only he could see. It was as if there was a mirror before him, reflecting his every move, challenging him with his own skill.
Jaune had witnessed plenty of fighters train alone before, but this was something else entirely. Sun wasn't just rehearsing strikes or repeating motions; he was reacting as if every blow was real, moving like he was locked in a true battle.
And what stood out most wasn't just the intensity of his movements—it was how he moved.
Sun's fighting style was unlike anything Jaune had ever seen. Each dodge was effortless, each parry smooth and natural. His steps were light, his counters fluid, his motions unpredictable yet completely controlled. It was mesmerizing to watch, as if combat wasn't just a skill to Sun, but a dance—a rhythmic, instinctual artform.
Jaune had seen fluid fighters before. Pyrrha's movements had been elegant, precise—she had been a master of control, her body executing every action with purpose and calculation. Yet even she had moments of rigidity, of structure, of discipline that guided her every step.
But Sun?
Sun was formless.
Jaune could only describe it as watching water take the shape of combat itself. There was no tension in his muscles, no hesitation in his reactions. It was as if he wasn't bound by any particular technique or rigid style—his body simply moved, adjusting and flowing like a current against an invisible tide.
It was both awe-inspiring and humbling.
Jaune found himself completely entranced, hardly noticing as his foot shifted against the ground. The moment the sound reached Sun's ears, the Faunus stopped mid-motion, his body relaxing as naturally as it had moved moments before.
He turned to Jaune with a knowing smirk, casually wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "So, how was my performance?"
Jaune let out an amused chuckle. "Pretty damn amazing, honestly," he admitted. "I guess that old saying is true, huh? Our greatest enemy is ourselves, at least, that's what it looked like,"
Sun chuckled, crossing his arms. "So, you did pick up on it, huh?"
Jaune nodded. "Yeah, though it took me a second to really get it, at first, I thought you were just practicing forms, but then I realized you weren't just throwing random attacks, you were reacting, dodging, countering, you were actually fighting yourself,"
Sun grinned at that, pleased. "Good," he said, nodding in approval. "That means you're getting closer,"
Jaune blinked in confusion. "Closer?"
"Yeah, dude!" Sun rolled his shoulders, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Closer to being like me, to becoming, as everyone in Shade keeps saying, Invincible under the Sun," He flashed a teasing smirk, like he wasn't entirely sure whether to take the title seriously or not.
Jaune tilted his head. "Is that why you train? Why you fight?" he asked, his voice curious. "Do you want to be invincible?"
Sun snorted, shaking his head. "Not really, I mean, sure, people around here keep saying I'm invincible, but let's be real—no one is. Everyone's got a weakness." He glanced toward the sky, watching the golden light filter through the dojo's vines. "Invincible is just a word,"
Jaune stared at him for a moment, then exhaled, nodding. He had to admit—Sun was right.
He had seen fighters who seemed unstoppable. Pyrrha, Raven, even Bertilak, who could take a hit and keep going no matter what. But none of them were truly invincible. They could all be beaten. They all had weaknesses, just like everyone else.
Invincible was just a word.
Jaune smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wooden post. "It is, but, I mean... you can't really blame people for wanting to claim a title like that for themselves, right? Who wouldn't want to be hailed as the strongest?"
Sun's playful grin faded slightly, his expression turning more contemplative. "Yeah, I guess so, but that's the problem, too." His tail flicked behind him as he glanced toward the sky. "It's like a heat haze, a mirage in the desert, you think you see water in the distance, and you chase after it, convinced that once you reach it, you'll have everything you want, but when you finally get there..."
He spread his arms, as if revealing an empty expanse.
"There's nothing, just more sand,"
Jaune hummed, considering his words. "True, but don't we all fall for that illusion?" He exhaled, tilting his head toward the sky. "I know I did, I started this journey because I wanted to be stronger—to prove to the people I left behind that I could stand next to them, that I wasn't dead weight anymore, but..."
Sun's gaze flickered to him knowingly. "But you found the price of seeking strength, right?"
Jaune let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his head. "Damn right I did," he admitted. "At first, I thought I was weak because someone close to me—someone I lov- hold dear, nearly died because I couldn't protect them, so I chased strength, thinking that was the answer, and I found it, sure, but I also got blood on my hands... I killed out of anger, and I started sinking into this dark place, and for a long time, I thought that was the price of getting stronger—that I'd be stuck in that darkness forever, that I'd become the monster I already thought I was,"
Sun remained quiet, watching Jaune carefully.
Jaune exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "But then someone showed me a different path," His mind drifted to Patch, to Tai's patient yet firm guidance, to the days spent rebuilding himself, both in body and spirit. "They made me realize that strength isn't just about power, or how many fights you win, and that while I had done terrible things for both the right and wrong reasons, and that while I saw myself as a monster, I didn't have to let those define me, he showed me that I could and can be better,"
Sun grinned slightly, his usual energy returning. "Sounds like you learned something important, then,"
Jaune smirked back. "Yeah, but I get the feeling I've still got a lot to figure out,"
Sun laughed, his golden tail swishing behind him as he stretched his arms above his head. "I suppose so," he said, rolling his shoulders before shooting Jaune a knowing grin. "Speaking of which, since you're here… let's train together, something tells me I already know why you came,"
Jaune met his gaze, feeling the weight of those words. Sun wasn't just offering a spar—he was offering insight, a chance to uncover the answer that had been gnawing at Jaune ever since his fight with Dew.
Jaune stepped forward, exhaling slowly "Yeah," he said, his voice steady.
Sun smirked. "Good answer," he said as he twirled his staff.
With that, Jaune stepped forward, his breath steady, his mind focused. This wasn't just another sparring session—it was a step toward something greater, something just out of his reach. He didn't expect an immediate revelation, nor did he think the path ahead would be easy, but that didn't matter.
What mattered was that he was finally starting to understand, not just what he was missing—but what he needed to become.