Notes:
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
#= scene cut, but occurring in parallel.
◇◇◇= scene cut, time skip.
*onomatopoeia*
_____
Ansel, a peaceful and quiet village in the rural outskirts of Vale, the main kingdom of the continent of Sanus, is the focus of this story. In a certain house in this village, a heated argument was taking place, and it went beyond its limits.
Jaune was only seven years old, but the fire inside him was already burning too high to fit in the cramped house where he lived with his two older sisters. That day, the argument had been inevitable.
"You'll never be a real hero!" said one of them.
"Hero? You barely know how to fight!" the other mocked.
Jaune clenched his fists, his face burning.
'They don't understand,' he thought. 'I'm going to prove that I can be more than they say.'
Without waiting any longer, he ran, feeling his sisters' eyes burning into his back. The forest was not far away, and he ran into it.
The air there was fresh, with the smell of earth and leaves. The sound of nature soothed his anger and sadness.
Sitting on a rock, Jaune gripped a small twig he had found along the way, imagining it was a sword, a shield, anything that would make him strong enough to not be ignored.
But then———
"Grrrr.."
A nearby growl caught the boy's attention.
'Grimm?!!'
Beowulfs surrounded the hidden boy, attracted by his scent of anguish and his repressed negative feelings.
At that moment, only one feeling was going through Little Jaune's head.
"Am I going to die… Without ever having become a hero?.."
And the Grimm's jaws were the last things Jaune Arc saw before the darkness took him.
#
The darkness enveloped him, warm and heavy, silent.
But there was something there.
A light, almost childish laugh echoed in the void. And then, a clear and soft voice, like that of an old friend.
"Hmmm… you really are too fragile, you know? But you have a beautiful heart. A little broken… but beautiful."
Jaune could not see anything, but he felt it. Something immense and shiny, as if the world were folding in on itself. A metallic sound echoed—footsteps on stone. And then, he appeared.
A young man—early twenties, fair skin, long purple hair tied in a satin ribbon. He wore silver armor, shiny even in that lightless space, with a blue cape fluttering behind him. In his right hand, he carried a long, cross-shaped sword, black with gold details. An artifact of royalty… or of a hero.
But what caught the most attention was his smile: wide, light, almost silly. Like a child who had just received a new toy.
"Haaaah… it's been so long since I've been awake. You have no idea. But look at that… such a sad boy. Running off to die alone in the forest… Didn't you want to be a hero?"
The figure crouched down in front of Jaune—or his soul—and touched his forehead with two fingers, smiling as if telling him a precious secret.
"So, how about a little help? We both want the same thing, after all. To be seen. To be remembered. To be real. To be people, to show that we EXIST… right? Buddy?"
Jaune wanted to speak… but his throat hurt. His emotions were crushed.
"You don't have to say anything now. I understand. I cried too, you know? Before I killed my first Daeva. You just have to… let me in."
And without waiting for an answer, light exploded around. Like a scream coming from the Living stars.
◇◇◇
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Ansel, more than 3 hours had passed, already dusk, both Jaune's parents and older sisters searched their village from top to bottom looking for the young boy who had disappeared.
"He's nowhere to be found!" cried Saphron, the older sister, panting, her golden hair sticking to her sweaty face. "I've searched the sheds, the fields, and even the neighbors' barn!"
"Nothing at the inn either!" said Jade, the second sister, her voice trembling. Her eyes, which had been cold at the beginning of the day with his provocations, were now wide, on the verge of tears. "He… he wouldn't just run away like that!"
"SEARCH MORE!" Noir, the Third Sister, shouted as she ran after her brother.
Inside the house, the boy's younger sisters were being looked after by their older sister, Azure, the 4th of the sisters, who tried to calm them down.
While the three sisters searched, their parents walked further away from the village, searching the forested area.
Mr. Arc, Nicholas Arc, was a man with a deep voice and calloused hands, who took long, quick steps between one tree and another, with a lantern swinging in one hand and his sword in the other. Every time his gaze found an empty space where there might be a small body, his teeth clenched tighter.
Beside him, Mrs. Arc, Juniper, walked with her cloak pulled tight against her chest, her panicked eyes searching as much as her husband.
"He's just a child," she muttered. "They shouldn't have said those things… I should have paid more attention to them…"
She remembered the sound of the door slamming. The argument between her daughters and Jaune. The way he'd left without looking back, his eyes filled with something no mother likes to see in a child:
Pain and loneliness.
"The forest," Mr. Arc said suddenly. "He has this habit of playing 'hunter' there. Let's start with the surroundings."
Mrs. Arc's face drained of color.
"Grimm live in that forest, Nick… What if they…?"
No one finished the sentence.
The possibility hung over everyone like a shadow, but even so, they kept searching.
#
The night had already deepened when Mr. Arc, panting and with shaking hands, stopped abruptly in front of a silent clearing. His heart almost stopped when he saw, scattered on the ground, the bodies of four Beowulfs—monstrous and evil—all dead, as if they had been pierced by an invisible force. The smell of something burning in the air. And there, in the middle of that macabre scene, was he. Jaune. Lying on the ground, motionless. The strange thing was that… Jaune's body didn't have a single scratch. And he was smiling. A soft, almost innocent smile. But his father and mother ignored this in favor of helping their only son. "Jaune?" The father knelt down quickly, holding the boy's face with his trembling hands. "Son... you're alive!" The boy didn't answer, his eyes closed. His breathing, however, was slow and weak, but steady. Mr. Arc felt tears wanting to escape.
His mother's voice sounded behind him, weak and almost a whisper:
"He's alive..."
And she joined in to hug the boy in tears. That day, Jaune Arc died, but...he was also Reborn as someone better...a Hero for all.
◇◇◇
Since that day, Jaune had changed. He was more cheerful, hyperactive and less shy than before.
"Hey, do you want some help?"
"Hey! How are you? My name is Jaune!"
"Shall we train?"
"HAHAHAHA WE WILL BE HUNTERS!"
Jaune seemed to have turned on a switch after his near death, his natural charisma and outgoing and lively manner seemed to inspire everyone in the place, the family found themselves becoming even more attached to their only son.
Jaune smiled more than anyone, cried like a child, but rejoiced like a fool. But he was no simple clown or social butterfly.
Jaune's true talent shone when—after much insistence and determination—he arrived at a preparatory academy for hunters. And he became the BEST in the class in a short time.
Jaune was able to defeat everyone he faced, even older students.
He was not sloppy for his size, or at least arrogant, he was the same Jaune through and through, and that was what scared his family, who thought it was a phase, and led to the current confrontation.
"NICHOLAS! YOU'RE EXAGGERATING! HE'S 12 YEARS OLD!"
"Calm down Juni, I'll just train him…" Juniper Arc shouted angrily, trying to stop her husband from crushing her son. Yes, Nicholas had proposed a "Sparring" with his Prodigy son, saying it was to "test" his level, but he actually wanted to show what a hunter's strength was like, trying to make his son change from this dangerous path. However— "Come on dad! I'm excited!" With a childish smile on his face, Jaune's crystal-clear eyes shone with joy, as if it were just a game to him. Even though he was about to face a grown man, not just a man, a trained, experienced, adult HUNTER. Sporting light armor, Nicholas looked at his son, seeing his relaxed pose, he frowned at the confidence that bordered on arrogance in him. 'I'm sorry Jaune. But I'll have to crush your dreams here, before it becomes a danger and you get hurt or...I lose you like I almost did.'
"Ready to start, Dad?" Smiling, Jaune swung his short blade, a childish version of his father's Sword, Cocrea Mors.
"Come on, Jaune, I won't go easy...NOW!"
With a thunderous momentum similar to a roar, that raised earth beneath his boots, Nicholas was right in front of his son, raising the blade high and throwing it down hard, tensing his muscles with the intention of hitting Jaune so that he fell.
Normally a normal person would be cut deeply by such an attack, but Thanks to his aura, Jaune had survived with only bruises. His mother and sisters who were watching saw only one result, Jaune falling to the ground. But to everyone's surprise...
"Wow! How cool! And strong!"
With an almost theatrical and choreographed flourish, Jaune dodged the blade, minimizing the impact of the blow by sliding his own blade along the Cocrea Mors and at the same time stepping away.
And with that—
*FOSH*
A cut hit Nicholas on the cheek.
'What? How did he—'
"Haha, you're strong, Dad! That was close."
Unconcerned with everyone's astonished looks, Jaune shook off the dust and adjusted the blade in his hand, turning back to look at his father.
What Jaune did in general was nothing special, it was a simple and basic movement, but somehow he did it so precisely at the right point that it bordered on inhuman.
"So…shall we continue?"
Seeing Jaune's excited smile, Nicholas narrowed his eyes in seriousness, and with a greater explosive impulse, fired a rain of cuts at the smaller Arc.
"Wow! How violent!"
But it seemed irrelevant. For even in the face of the raging silver storm, each blow was dodged or parried perfectly, and each counterattack was a cut in Nicholas's aura. It didn't take a genius to see who had the upper hand. As strong and skilled as Nicholas was, he couldn't read or touch his son, who moved like a feather between the needles and countered with Critical hits between the gaps in the blade's recoil.
'He's... a genius?'
Nicholas gritted his teeth. His guard dropped for a second—not from fatigue, but from disbelief.
'He's dancing between the blows like he's playing... This isn't normal.'
But Jaune was smiling. An excited gleam in his eyes, as if this were the best day of his life.
"Come on, Dad! Harder! You can do better than that, right?"
It was an innocent taunt… and yet cruel.
Nicholas felt something inside him twist. Fear?
No. It was worse: doubt.
He took a step back, readjusted his stance, and then charged with redoubled force—a sequence of arcing thrusts and slashes, movements perfected by years of experience.
But none of it touched the boy.
Each blow was met with a smile or dodged with elegance. Jaune didn't seem tired. Or fighting. He just seemed… dancing.
Until—
*CLANG*
The blades crossed. This time, Nicholas managed to exert enough force to force Jaune back. The little boy slid on the ground, stumbling, but he didn't fall.
He just laughed, shaking his golden hair with a blow.
"Hahaha! That was good! Almost got me, huh?"
Nicholas panted, sweating. His arms felt heavy.
'It doesn't make sense. He's a child… I should be holding him back, but still… I'm FIGHTING SERIOUSLY right now…'
He looked into his son's eyes.
And for a moment — just a moment — the childish smile disappeared.
In its place, a tired, lonely look, like someone who's seen too much. Like a man trapped behind a mask.
Nicholas felt a chill run up his spine.
"You…" he murmured, still not lowering his sword. "Who are you?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
He didn't know why he'd asked it. Maybe it was instinct.
Jaune stared at him for a second… then blinked, confused.
"Uh… I'm Jaune, Dad!" he said naturally, tilting his head like a puppy. "Remember?"
And then he smiled again. Happy. Excited.
But Nicholas knew. That look from before wasn't Jaune's.
And that made him hesitate.
That was enough.
Jaune advanced like a shadow.
"Watch out!" one of the sisters shouted from the makeshift bleachers in the backyard.
Nicholas barely had time to raise his sword before Jaune's short blade clashed against his own, not hard, but with precision.
*CLANG* *CLANG* *TING*
Three strikes. Quick. Calculated. All aimed at blind spots, gaps in his guard that Nicholas hadn't even known he'd left.
His aura flared—and then shattered.
*CRACK!*
The protective field around the hunter shattered into sparks of golden light.
*Silence*
The entire Arc family held their breath.
Jaune stopped inches from his father, the tip of his childlike sword gently grazing the man's armored chest.
"Hehe... I got you."
Her tone was light, unconcerned. But Nicholas felt his knees weaken.
This wasn't luck. Nor raw talent. This was refined technique, far beyond any childhood academy. Far beyond his years.
This fight wasn't between father and son. It was between a veteran hunter... and something he couldn't understand.
Jaune put his sword away and walked over to his mother and sisters, who were waiting for him with their mouths open. He was waving his arms as if he had just come from a walk.
"Mom! See? I managed not to get hurt! And I didn't even hurt Dad!"
Juniper could barely respond. She just hugged him tightly, her eyes wide.
Nicholas stood where he was, staring at the dirt marked by footprints and cuts.
'He... He's not the same anymore.'
And inside him, something was growing.
A dark, uncomfortable feeling.
…
◇◇◇
Later that night, Jaune was alone in his room, thoughtful, a more serious face than he expected in a child. And along with that.
"Boring….so boring…they…act so weird.."
Ever since Jaune woke up from his near death, everyone seemed strange in his vision. As if they were…different. The fight against his father proved his point.
He had always admired him, the invincible hero, the grimm slayer, but now.
"He can't touch me…"
The regrettable truth of himself echoed. Jaune wanted his father to touch him, to knock him down, but he couldn't. In the end, Jaune could have forced a bigger fight, he knew without a doubt that physically and in experience his father crushed him, but it was the paternal and caring feelings that allowed Jaune to see the breaks in his guard, especially the surprise factor, something that Jaune was no longer limited to.
To him, everyone was acting strange, anomalies.
"Why do they seem so…fake?"
And with such a thought, Jaune slept that night, without knowing that in the future, such thoughts would be commonplace.
A man who was far from everyone, after all, being strong is…lonely.