Chapter- 03

Jaune wasn't like his siblings—he wasn't at the top of his class academically, nor did he excel in physical training. But what he lacked in traditional success, he made up for with sharp wit and an insatiable hunger for knowledge.

His intelligence surpassed that of most kids his age, and he had a natural knack for strategy. Whenever he had free time, you could usually find him in the library, nose buried in books. His favorite topics? The history of Remnant, the origins of aura, and self-defense techniques.

Since his parents never taught him about weapons or aura, Jaune took it upon himself to learn. He studied diligently, knowing that one day, that knowledge could save him.

And today, it did.

The basic tenets of SDT (Self-Defense Training) echoed in his mind:

Fight dirty. There's no honor in self-protection.

Examine your surroundings and use them to your advantage.

Use your arsenal to its fullest—your survival depends on it.

The moment Nathan swung his fist, Jaune's mind shifted into overdrive. He moved swiftly, scooping up a handful of dirt, gravel, and small stones from the ground. With a quick motion, he flung the mixture directly into Nathan's face.

Nathan stumbled back, his vision blurring as the dirt irritated his eyes. Jaune used the opportunity to catch his breath and widen the distance between them. His eyes darted around, scanning the environment. That's when he saw it:

A jagged triangular stone and a smooth, heavy salt lick block.

The first rule came rushing back to him: Fight dirty.

For a hero, fighting dirty might seem dishonorable. But this wasn't a sparring match or a game. This was about self-preservation. Protecting his honor, his well-being, and his future. For Jaune, securing those things justified the tactics he was about to employ.

"BROTHER!" Jessica's panicked voice cut through the air. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING—"

An idea sparked in Jaune's mind, a trick to kill two birds with one stone. Without hesitation, he picked up the triangular rock and hurled it toward Jessica. He wasn't aiming to harm her; he only needed to disrupt her focus.

"Teach him a lesson—"

THUMP!

The stone hit her in the chest, and Jessica fell back onto the ground, clutching at the spot in pain.

"Jess! Oh Oum, Jess!"

"Are you alright?"

The other kids rushed to her aid, their cries pulling Nathan's attention. He turned his head toward his sister.

This was Jaune's moment.

The third rule echoed in his mind: Use your arsenal to its fullest. Your survival depends on it.

At this moment, Jaune's arsenal was limited to the salt lick block—and his intimate knowledge of aura. After reading his favorite book five times in just three days, Jaune had become an expert on the subject. He knew aura's strengths and its vulnerabilities better than anyone else his age.

He crept forward, moving swiftly and quietly, the salt lick block gripped tightly in his hands. With precision, he swung the block at Nathan's head.

BAM!

Nathan staggered, grabbing the side of his head as his aura flickered faintly. It was working—just as the book had described.

Jaune pressed on.

"Aura Guide, Chapter 08," he muttered, his voice cold and methodical.

He swung the block vertically, bringing it down on the top of Nathan's head.

BAM!

Another flicker. Nathan groaned in pain, his hands grasping at his head.

'Just a bit more. He's almost there,' Jaune thought, his mind racing.

Facing Nathan head-on, Jaune slammed the block into his nose with brutal precision.

"Aura is the strongest source of power in every living being on this planet," Jaune said, his tone even and chilling.

BAM!

He struck Nathan's face again before aiming lower.

CRACK!

The block connected with Nathan's chest, sending a sound rippling through the air. A sound Jaune immediately recognized—the shattering of an aura.

Nathan collapsed onto the ground, clutching his chest in agony, his aura shattered.

Jaune stepped forward, placing his foot firmly on Nathan's back, pinning him to the dirt. His gaze was sharp, his posture commanding as he stared down at his opponent.

"But for humans and Faunus, during the pre-teen years, aura is in its weakest state," Jaune explained in a venomous tone, his words laced with disdain. "Sure, you can strengthen it with meditation and physical training. But you forgot to do that, didn't you, Nathan?"

Nathan shivered under Jaune's glare, his earlier arrogance nowhere to be found.

*Present*

The ride home was silent.

Juniper drove her Scooty through the quiet streets, her face an unreadable mask. Not once did she glance back at Jaune, who sat motionless behind her. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Jaune could feel it—his mother wasn't just upset. She was disappointed, maybe even scared.

That realization twisted his stomach.

After several minutes, they arrived at their house—a charming double-story building with a neatly trimmed lawn and a garden filled with blooming blue flowers. Under different circumstances, Jaune might have admired the beauty of the scene, but today, he barely noticed it.

Juniper walked briskly toward the front door, her movements stiff and purposeful. Jaune followed, keeping his head low and his steps quiet. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, pausing just long enough to speak to him.

"Mom…" Jaune started hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jaune," Juniper said firmly, cutting him off. "Go to your room." She didn't look at him as she spoke, her focus fixed straight ahead. "We'll talk about it later."

Jaune nodded silently, his heart sinking further. He climbed the stairs to his room, each step feeling heavier than the last. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a shaky breath, the gravity of his actions pressing down on him.

This was no longer about the fight, or about standing up for his honour. This was something far bigger—something that could change the course of his life.

And he knew it.

Juniper P.O.V

The ride home from the hospital had been silent, but Juniper's mind was anything but. Her thoughts raced, colliding into one another as she struggled to process what had unfolded. The image of Nathan's battered and unconscious body haunted her, as did the unmistakable smile that had curled across Jaune's lips.

She had tried to dismiss it—tried to convince herself that maybe it wasn't what it seemed. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the dread that had settled in her chest.

Her son, Jaune, had done that.

When they reached home, Juniper felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. The house, normally a source of warmth and comfort, suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. She walked up to the door, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked it.

"Mom," Jaune's voice broke the silence behind her. It was small, almost hesitant.

Juniper didn't turn to face him. Her voice was steady, but devoid of its usual warmth. "Jaune, go to your room. We'll talk about it later."

She heard him hesitate before trudging up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. When the door to his room clicked shut, Juniper finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She stood in the entryway for a long moment, the silence of the house almost deafening. Her hands clenched at her sides as a flurry of emotions crashed over her—anger, confusion, fear, guilt.

What happened to my sweet boy?

Juniper walked into the living room, her legs feeling like lead. She sank into the couch, burying her face in her hands. The memories of Jaune's childhood flashed through her mind—his laughter, his kindness, the way he used to bring her wildflowers from the garden.

He wasn't like this. This wasn't him.

But then she remembered the look on his face in the hospital, the dark satisfaction in his smile as he stood beside her. That expression had chilled her to the core. It wasn't the face of the boy she had raised; it was someone else entirely.

Her mind turned to the other parents at the hospital—Nathan's parents, their cries echoing through the hallway as they saw their son. How would she face them? How could she explain what had happened?

She thought about Nicholas. What would he say when he found out? He was always so firm, so unwavering in his expectations for their children. He had dismissed Jaune's desires to become a Huntsman, insisting that he wasn't ready. Would this confirm his fears?

Juniper leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Where did I go wrong?

Her heart ached with conflicting emotions—love for her son, fear for what he was becoming, and guilt for possibly having failed him as a parent. She thought of his sisters, of how easily their paths had unfolded. Why was it so different with Jaune?

And then there was Nathan's family. She couldn't stop seeing the mother's tear-streaked face, the father's trembling hands as they hovered near their son's bed.

Juniper closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face the consequences of what had happened. She would have to talk to Nicholas, to Nathan's parents, and—most importantly—to Jaune.

It was well past midnight when Nicholas Arc returned home. The sound of his car pulling into the driveway broke the quiet stillness of the night. The house was dark except for the faint light coming from the living room window. Nicholas stepped inside, his boots heavy on the wooden floor, his frame towering and imposing as he removed his coat.

Juniper was waiting for him. She sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The expression on her face was tense, her jaw set. Nicholas noticed immediately—something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Juniper looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and frustration. "We need to talk."

"About?" Nicholas set his bag down and crossed his arms, his brow furrowed.

"About Jaune," Juniper said, standing up. Her voice was tight with emotion. "There was an incident today."

Nicholas stiffened. "What kind of incident?"

She hesitated for a moment before recounting the events at the park and the hospital—the fight, Nathan's injuries, the accusations from the other children, and Jaune's unsettling behavior afterward.

As Juniper spoke, Nicholas's face darkened. By the time she finished, his fists were clenched at his sides.

"That boy—" Nicholas began, his voice low but simmering with anger, "—is out of control."

Jaune P.O.V

The house was silent, the kind of stillness that only settled in the dead of night. The faint glow of the moon spilled through the windows, casting elongated shadows across the walls.

Jaune stirred in his bed, his throat dry and scratchy. Blinking sleepily, he pushed his blanket aside and sat up. The dull ache from the day's events still lingered in his body, but thirst won out over fatigue.

Rubbing his eyes, Jaune quietly slipped out of his room, careful not to wake his sisters sleeping in the rooms nearby. The wooden floor creaked softly under his bare feet as he made his way downstairs toward the kitchen.

The faint hum of the refrigerator greeted him as he reached for a glass and filled it with water from the tap. He took a long sip, savoring the cool liquid as it soothed his parched throat. As he turned to head back upstairs, a muffled voice stopped him in his tracks.

It was coming from the living room.

Jaune froze, glass still in hand, his heart skipping a beat. He recognized the voices—his parents.

Curiosity, and a touch of unease, compelled him to inch closer. The voices grew clearer with each step he took, and he stopped just around the corner, out of sight.

"You don't understand, Juniper!" Nicholas's voice was low but heated, filled with frustration. "This behavior—what he did today—is unacceptable. This isn't just some childish mistake. He put a boy in the hospital!"

"And you think I don't know that?" Juniper shot back, her tone sharp and emotional. "Do you think I don't feel the weight of it? He's our son, Nicholas!"

"He's a danger!" Nicholas snapped. "To himself, to others. This kind of rage—it's not normal. He's angry, Juniper, and he's reckless!"

"He's angry because he feels like he doesn't belong!" Juniper countered, her voice cracking. "He feels like an outsider in his own family because you've done nothing but push him away!"

"I pushed him away?" Nicholas's voice rose. "I told him the truth. He's not ready. You coddle him, Juniper, and this is the result. He lashes out because he's never been taught discipline."

"And whose fault is that?" Juniper fired back. "You've been absent, Nicholas! You've left me to deal with everything while you've played the hero. Maybe if you had spent more time with him, guiding him, this wouldn't have happened!"

There was a brief pause, filled only by the sound of heavy breathing. Jaune stood frozen, his small frame pressed against the wall. He didn't want to hear any more, but his feet refused to move.

Nicholas's next words shattered the silence—and Jaune's heart.

"Sometimes I think it would've been better if he was never born."

The world seemed to tilt beneath Jaune's feet. His breath caught in his throat, and the glass in his hand trembled. His father's words echoed in his mind, over and over, like the cruelest of taunts.

"Don't you dare say that!" Juniper's voice was fierce, almost trembling. "How can you even think something like that? He's your son, Nicholas! Our son!"

Jaune didn't wait to hear his father's response. He turned quietly and crept back up the stairs, his movements slow and deliberate, though his hands were shaking.

Reaching his room, he gently shut the door behind him and climbed into bed. He stared at the ceiling, the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains. His chest felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Silent tears streamed down his face, soaking into his pillow. He bit his lip to keep himself from making a sound, unwilling to let anyone know he was awake, that he had heard.

For the first time, Jaune didn't feel angry. He didn't feel the fiery defiance that had driven him earlier that day. All he felt was… hollow.

He curled up under his blanket, clutching it tightly, as his father's words looped endlessly in his mind.

Normal P.O.V

Juniper stood trembling in the middle of the living room, her voice shaking with fury as she shot back at Nicholas. "Don't you dare say that! How can you even think something like that? He's your son, Nicholas! Our son!"

Nicholas took a step back, clearly taken aback by Juniper's outburst. For a moment, his hardened expression wavered, but the frustration boiling within him quickly took over.

"Juniper, look at what he did," Nicholas said, his tone low and biting. "He put another boy in the hospital. What kind of child does that? What kind of future does a boy like that have? You saw it—the look on his face, the way he smiled. That wasn't remorse; it was something else."

Juniper shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "He's just a boy, Nicholas! He doesn't know how to handle everything he's feeling. He's angry, confused, and desperate for validation. And instead of helping him, instead of guiding him, you've done nothing but shut him out!"

"I shut him out?" Nicholas snapped, his voice rising. "I didn't shut him out—I told him the truth. You coddle him, Juniper, and this is what happens. He thinks the world owes him something, but it doesn't. And if he doesn't learn that now, he'll never learn it."

Juniper stepped closer to him, her voice trembling but fierce. "He doesn't think the world owes him anything. He wants to prove himself to you—to us. He wants to be a Huntsman, like his father and grandfather. But all you've done is make him feel like he'll never be good enough, no matter how hard he tries."

Nicholas's jaw clenched, his expression darkening. "You think letting him become a Huntsman will solve everything? That it'll magically fix whatever's wrong with him? No, Juniper. It'll only make things worse. Giving him that

kind of power—it's dangerous."

Juniper's voice cracked as she pleaded, "He doesn't need power, Nicholas. He needs love. He needs to know that we believe in him, that we see his worth."

Nicholas's response was quieter this time, but no less devastating. "I don't know if I can see it, Juniper. Not after today."

Juniper froze, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of his words hung between them, heavy and oppressive. She took a shaky step back, her hands trembling.

"Do you even hear yourself?" she whispered. "You're his father, Nicholas. You're supposed to believe in him, no matter what. If you can't see his worth, then who will?"

Nicholas didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration and guilt evident on his face. Finally, he muttered, "I just don't know how to help him."

Juniper's expression softened slightly, but her pain was still evident. "Then start by being there for him. Stop pushing him away, stop shutting him out. He needs his father, Nicholas. Not as a disciplinarian or a hero—but as someone who loves him unconditionally."

Nicholas looked at her, his face conflicted, but he said nothing. Without another word, he turned and walked away, heading upstairs. Juniper stood alone in the living room, her heart heavy with the weight of their argument and the uncertainty of what was to come.

Unbeknownst to them, Jaune was lying awake in his bed, tears streaming silently down his face. He clutched his blanket tightly, his father's words ringing in his ears: "Sometimes I think it would've been better if he was never born."

Tomorrow is Founders Day.

The day his whole life was about to change, Forever.

To be Continued