Hey all, second chapter here. A lot of comments on the last chapter, including a few people pointing out what they believe are plot holes. Obviously not much has been covered yet, but have a little faith. This story has been carefully planned and what many are suggesting are holes, are actually important plot points . Simply put, they're important - just not explained yet. Delve deeper, think on them... ask why - don't just assume they're wrong, because you might be on to something intentional. I get that a lot in my other fics too, where people say "you've made a mistake here because..." and I'm thinking "You noticed something I did on purpose, I just wish you'd think on it and dig deeper, instead of assuming it's a mistake."
And then those same people ask other questions and I'm like "Argh... but you had the answer right there! You just assumed it was wrong!" xD
Anyway, this chapter might answer a few, while also explaining why Jaune is in the current situation he is in. And for those commenting that the summary doesn't match the content – i.e. the summary suggested a holiday, but he isn't taking one. Well, before he can take a holiday – it needs to be shown why he "needs" one – but also why he would "take" one, in a way that doesn't make him seem out of character. Story will match summary, don't worry.
Anyway, enough shenanigans – enjoy this ridiculously long chapter. Oh, and as always, got to love the pairing theories, which have sprung up already. Some have raised valid points, including the fact that yes, indeed I have said on my profile that I won't be repeating pairings. Hmm… da theory-crafting.
My Beta College Fool - who really does a lot of work helping me - is also going to add some comments at the bottom too. Hope you'll check them out.
Beta: College Fool
He saw it the moment he walked into the room. Past the sleep in his eye and the yawn fighting its way past his hand - its presence struck him with the weight of a hammer blow.
Crocea Mors was back… early.
The ancestral blade adorned its rightful place once more, within the glass display case affixed to their wall. He couldn't keep his eyes from it, even as he tucked into the fried eggs and bacon Juniper had so lovingly created. It felt like a weight upon his shoulders, a reminder of the duty he had ahead of him.
"Jaune's taking me to the arcades!" Amber forced the words past the food in her mouth, spilling crumbs out onto her plate.
"Oh?" Nicholas leaned forward to rest his chin on one hand. "I'm gone for a few days and my little angel has already replaced me?" And there was that too… obviously Crocea Mors hadn't travelled home on its own. It was the first time he'd seen his father for a few years... but decades since he'd tried to connect with the man.
He was a stranger in all but name.
Apparently he'd done his best to finish the mission early, and instead of coming back tomorrow had managed to make it today. Either way that was good news for Jaune. A single day, or two days even, might not seem like much - but to him it was a serious matter.
Back when this had all started… when things had been new, exciting and filled with hope. Jaune had focused on experimentation. Trying as many different things as he could to influence the future, to see what could save them all.
It was only natural really, a chance to re-do life - at least however much of it he had at Beacon. That was hardly something he could afford to give up. Plus, he could take things in a different way, prevent certain disasters…
Such had been the theory… a shame it hadn't held up.
There were certain things that always happened, that would continue to happen no matter what he did. Cinder would attack Vale. It didn't matter what team he was on, how strong he was, or what he ate for breakfast on any given day. It was her plan, and she would enact it. It would be at the breach or it would be at Amity.
And that one time, where he'd managed to actually sabotage the Vytal Festival, so that it never happened?
It had been in the dead of the night... when they had no warning.
There were some things he could change, that he could affect – but there were things he just couldn't. Ruby would get into Beacon. Cinder would attack Vale. The White Fang would be involved. General Ironwood and his robots would come to the city. Blake would be discovered as a faunus and have her panic moment… those were just a few events that occurred which didn't rely on him.
As much as he went back in time whenever he died, it didn't mean life revolved around him. It wasn't the same as picking a team… he could let Pyrrha's javelin hit him, in which case she would be his partner. Or he could duck out of the way, in which case his partner could be just about anyone. Again, it depended upon which launching pad he used and who he was placed near. Each one shot into different locations, and in many cases it was random chance - unless he specifically hunted someone down.
There were other things too, which he'd tried again and again. Telling Ozpin, Ironwood, hell – even trying to tell Roman on the off-chance he'd be able to swing the thief to his side. He'd tried using future knowledge, hidden secrets, even codes and passwords they might give him in the future. None of it worked… too suspicious, too crazy an idea… even those rare moments where he managed to reveal intel they should have known it was impossible for him to acquire? They simply assumed he was a spy for Cinder. Insane asylums had been bad enough, especially when Cinder would send Neo to remove him as a loose end… but being tortured by Ironwood – with Ozpin's reluctant approval, no less? That had been the final straw.
It had been a sober wake up call for the idealistic fool he'd once been. He couldn't tell anyone.
Railing against that fact – or any of the things he couldn't change – was pointless. The trick, he'd realised far too late into his new life, was not to change things so dramatically – not to go wild and make great alterations. It was better to have forewarning of events that were to come, rather than roll the dice with his friends' lives. The more radical the changes he made, the worse things got. He'd learned that one time, early on, when he'd managed to set a bomb in Cinder's room – killing the three of them in one blow, before they could even enact the Breach.
It had seemed like the perfect solution… up until the White Fang attacked with Adam. Cutting off the head of the snake had only caused the body to thrash about wildly. And suddenly – what had once been a targeted attack on Beacon – was a massacre among the streets of Vale, with far worse consequences.
He'd tried joining Cinder too, swallowing his pride and feelings in an effort to feel out her plan. That had brought its own failure… Cinder didn't care for, nor trust, those beneath her. Even then, she seemed to be answering to someone else anyway. Someone he could neither find nor contact. She hadn't shared any of her plans with him and all he'd learned was a few specific locations where she kept dust or supplies. But she didn't need either to attack Beacon… not with the army of Grimm she brought with her.
Over and over… he must have tried new and unique angles for over thirty years, with varying degrees of failure. There'd been no rhyme or reason to it, no system. He'd just… done whatever seemed like an idea at the time - hoping that something would work out. That something would stick.
Disorganised, chaotic… he'd been lacking the most important thing.
A plan… a strategy.
It had taken him decades to get to where he was now, to reach the realisation he had – and it had been so simple too. It all came down to one thing. The amount of time he survived into Beacon determined how much preparation time he had before Beacon.
It was profit and loss. If he stuck to the same plan each time, encountered the same foes each time, then he could slowly work his way through them. Foreknowledge and training time before Beacon allowed him to tailor what he needed to know to each enemy, meaning that he gained just a little bit more time on each run. That meant he got more time to train on the next run, which meant he could earn more the next time… over and over, slowly gaining ground.
Trying different things… those differing angles that he'd never tried before? That introduced risk - elements he couldn't prepare for - because they tended to explode in unpredictable ways. If any of those elements killed him - then he'd have less time to prepare on the next attempt.
That was a big deal… when he'd spent the last twenty or so years building up to this point. Taking the same choices, sticking to a single plan – allowing the things he knew were coming to happen - but taking steps to limit the damage. That allowed him foreknowledge of what was coming. Which meant that each time, with that extra bit of training time he had managed to claw back, he could be stronger when he had to do it again. And then, with that extra time – be it a month, or just two weeks – he could eke out another few days…
Giving him even more time to prepare…
Getting to this point, of having just over two years of time to train and prepare, before Beacon even started? That had not been an easy task… and every single day had been earned in sweat and blood.
Eventually though, it would pay off… if he kept gaining time, kept making it just that little bit further – than eventually he would break through. He'd tried wild ideas, new angles and crazy strategies… for decades he'd tried them – over and over again.
They didn't work!
There was no magical solution, no lucky break where he'd say the right thing to Pyrrha and she'd kick ass. He'd tried that too, encouraging her to take the Maiden's powers early. Same results as usual.
But this? This would work. The patient approach - erosion. One chip at a time he'd wear away at their plan. Anyone else might have called him foolish, accused him of being a man trying to dig through a wall with his fingernails. But the thing was… if you had all the time in the world to do it… then eventually you'd break through. He would break through.
And everyone would live to tell the tale. He'd make sure of it.
Which was why time was of the essence, he had to leave as soon as possible, so that those extra days could be put to proper use. It would already take a few days to break his body in. To drop all those bad habits he had as a child, rid himself of the useless fat and build up his stamina. There just wasn't the time for sitting around doing nothing.
"That's generous of you kiddo," something touched the top of his head - and so lost in thought was he, that the sensation made him flinch. Nicholas' darker eyes met his own, a small hint of concern within them. Damn his wandering mind, he needed to put a stop to that before people started to get suspicious. His father turned to Amber, though not before giving one final worried look. "And here I was going to take my little girl out shopping when I got back," the older man reached out to wipe a napkin across Amber's mouth. The girl bore it without patience, squirming against his hold, which only served to spill more food around the table.
"You can take me tomorrow daddy," Amber compromised magnanimously, with that infallible logic only a child could possess. Jaune just nodded dumbly along, a small seed of guilt worming its way within his stomach.
He would be going to the arcade with Amber alright… but he'd be abandoning her there, using her as a distraction so that he could sneak back when they went to collect her. So that he had a chance to steal Crocea Mors and leave. It was for the best, for everyone – them included. Cinder's plan would spread across all of Remnant eventually.
"Make sure to have her back by five," the older man teased, "and if I hear about any funny business we'll be having words young man."
"Ha ha, yeah…" The laughter sounded weak, even to him, and he didn't fail to notice the way his father's eyes narrowed, the creases about his eyes deepening.
"He's feeling a little under the weather," Juniper came to his rescue, leaning over to explain to Nicholas, "I think it's fine, he's just been tired." The man accepted it with a nod, sparing a brief concerned look for him, before being distracted by the other conversation at the table.
It would be fine; things would sort themselves out when he got out into the wilderness to train. Out there it would be the same routine as ever, a comfortable constant he could rely on.
In a few days… he wouldn't even remember any of this.
Ansel, the settlement where they lived, was a strange location. Calling it a village would be a disservice, while it also wasn't quite large enough to classify as a town. The settlement, for lack of a better term, was one of many dotted around Vale. Close enough to the city to retreat to if needed, while also far enough to have some level of autonomy. The air was clearer too, away from the mass of industry.
Juniper had often joked that it was where successful Hunters came to retire. A quaint quasi-town where the elderly could routinely kick the ass of the young if they ever felt like it. It had all the amenities one would expect of a town, from the school building – a mere fragment the size of Beacon, but then again it only needed to accommodate a hundred students at most. There was no hospital, but there was a large building where the resident doctor lived, with enough beds to fit twenty or so people in if needs be.
And wherever humanity set-up, so did an economy to surround them. Shops, a small grocery and a weekly market - most of it was more suited to the mature populace of the area. For the children there were only really three options.
The library, for the 1% who actually enjoyed that kind of thing, or the arcade and park, for the other 99%.
Seeing it all again was a blast from the past. The squat building ringed with flashing lights and garish signs. From within came what could only be called a tortured symphony of beeps, boops, techno music and childish squeals.
It hurt his ears to even look at it…
I remember being so excited whenever we came here, his blue eyes looked over some of the machines outside, including those hook grabbing things that were so-clearly rigged. How many times did I make Nicholas and Juniper try to win me one of those?
He didn't think they ever had. Not for lack of trying… Nicholas had taken it as a personal challenge, only giving up when his wife dragged him away by the collar. Gods, that was so long ago…
"Big brother," Amber whined, tugging on his arm with an impatient expression. "Come on… we need to hurry – what if all the machines are taken?"
"There aren't enough children in all of Ansel for that," he sighed, allowing her to drag him into the building. The music was louder inside, if that were even possible. And with over a hundred different machines playing different melodies, it couldn't even really be called music anymore. More like white noise in 8-bit form.
"You did bring lien, right?"
"Yes Amber," as though he'd dare forget. She'd have sent him marching all the way back home to collect some more. Either way, Juniper had forced some into his hand as he left the house, making him promise to save some of it for food and drink. Luckily – or unluckily, given the noise – the arcade also had a small diner in it.
No one used it… since most of the kids squandered their lien on tokens and games… but it was there.
Strange what memories came back, even though this one was so deeply buried behind Beacon and the fighting. Maybe if he'd spent less time here, he wouldn't have needed to fake his entry into Beacon. Either way, he'd already pocketed a portion of the money, sequestered away to bolster what he could steal when he left. Money made the world go round, after all.
Amber rattled off some details about the last time she was here, after school with some friends, or something. Jaune paid only half attention, handing a portion of their lien over to the only adult in the area - a young man, perhaps nineteen or so, with an utterly defeated look on his face. The teen handed back some tokens in exchange, barely even seeing Jaune or Amber, but going through the motions nonetheless.
Jaune could empathise… truly, he could.
"So we're here," Jaune pointed out, perhaps the most needless comment he'd made for some time, "what do you want to do first?"
"That one," Amber said - pointing towards a set of screens placed before two large seats. Some kind of racing game, with steering wheels and pedals, Jaune passed her a silvery token as he climbed into the seat next to her. "Bet you can't beat me!"
"We'll see," he rolled his eyes but humoured her nonetheless, pressing the bright start button once the machine had registered his token. The concept seemed simple enough… there wasn't a gear stick or a clutch – which felt a little odd – but then again, he hadn't exactly been formally trained.
But you didn't get to be Roman Torchwicks getaway driver without learning fast, and driving faster. If he could manoeuvre a lorry filled with explosive dust around the streets of Vale while being chased by the cops?
This would be a cake walk.
"It's not a very realistic representation of driving," the blond boy sighed as his sister dragged him away. That was the only explanation for how good she was at the game.
"No one likes a sore loser," Amber giggled, "maybe that's why you're still single."
"What does an eleven year old know of dating?" He wondered aloud. There was a small temptation to point out that actually he'd had plenty of girlfriends in his time, there were only so many times he could live his live and not notice Pyrrha's attention. Then there'd been Velvet once or twice, Ruby, Reese… hell, even Coco once – for a very short time. Not to mention a host of casual relationships, sometimes for comfort, sometimes just for the sake of it.
That had been a long time ago, however. You could only watch your lover die – revive, then forget you – so many times. After going through that over and over it soon lost its appeal.
"Win me something then," the small girl demanded, looking up at him as though it were her birth right to command him. "I want a teddy, a toy, a pony-" the list went on, including such things as crowns, a kingdom and a boyfriend.
Someone really needs to have a talk with her sisters, if she's picking up things like this…
It would take some time, to win her any of those things… the machines that gave prizes tended to print out tickets. Which you then needed to collect to exchange at the counter. Even if he played perfectly the ironic part was that the prize would be worth less than what they'd spent to get it. That was how the place made its profit after all.
But this would be her last memory of him, once he ran away… would it really be so bad, to spend a little time making it a pleasant one?
"I'll win you something," the answer was instant, "I promise." If he left now… if he took his original plan and abandoned her here at the arcade?
She'd be hurt, of course… but worse than that, would she think it was her fault - that he had run away because he couldn't stand her? He couldn't be that cruel… even if it meant he lost another day of training, even if in the end the pain would still be the same – because he'd still be gone.
He'd make sure she knew it wasn't because of her.
"Mummy says you shouldn't promise things you can't keep," the little girl pointed out in a surprising moment of maturity.
"Trust in your big brother a little, hmm?" He thumped one hand against his chest, trying to match the confident smile he'd picked up at Beacon. With his scrawny limbs and gangly fourteen-year-old frame he wasn't sure it worked. But when she had to crane her neck to look up at him anyway?
It was enough to bring a beatific smile to her face. "Hn!" She nodded, skipping ahead of him towards the machines that gave out prize tickets.
We have fifty or so tokens for play left, he considered as he looked down at the small bag of clinking silver coins. Not real currency, they were simply rounded metal which the machines would recognise. The big prizes need a hundred prize tickets, and the machines can give out anywhere from one to five depending on how well you do…
His mind whirled, considering not only the basic math behind it, but also which games would best suit his rather specific skillset. It was strategy on a childish scale; an affront to the skills as a leader he'd bled and literally died to earn. He was used to assigning teammates, of making decisions that could mean life or death…
But that didn't make them any less applicable here. Intelligence based games are out, I'm old enough to know a lot, but all my knowledge is about Grimm and fighting, not trivia – especially not trivia from a period I haven't lived for decades. I know more about Mercury than I do most celebrities…
His eyes flicked over a strength tester, something where you had to punch the pads when it told you to. It would then rank you based on whatever it used to measure your strength. There was currently a teen already on it, surrounded by a few cheering friends.
That might be an option… his physical prowess wasn't something he could bring back with him each time, but there was more to punching than brute strength. It was all about the footwork, how to throw your weight behind it – even how to minimise damage to yourself and cause more to your opponent. Yang had taught him about that, a long time ago… though he'd also picked up bits and pieces from Ren. Two very different styles for what was essentially hand to hand combat.
"Jaune?"
"I'm thinking," he whispered, considering what other strengths he might still have. Reactions, perhaps? His mind was a steel vice, quick to notice and react to things… and while his body might not have the same speed, it would be better than a normal boy his age. That was the closest thing he could think of. Since there wasn't likely going to be any games that let him physically fight someone.
"How about that shooting game?" He suggested, drawing the girl's attention to some kind of Grimm hunting machine. It was really just a large, flat screen – which played a game where Grimm would charge at you down a corridor, while you shot at them with large plastic handguns.
They'd never be enough to truly kill a Beowolf, not with a single shot anyway… but that was part of the game's design. In a world where your life could be ended if you gave off too much negativity, propaganda had a very important place in society.
Show the Grimm as weak; uphold the image of Hunters as absolute heroes, to the point where children's tales would all be about good triumphing over evil. It was all carefully designed to maintain the mood of the populace. To ensure their safety by making them believe in their own invincibility.
He'd hated that truth, once he found out about it. But now, with a few years behind him, he could see the value in it. Was it truly cruel, to manipulate people like that, when it was not only for their own happiness – but for their survival?
It made the presence of Hunters as much a weapon as the ones they wielded. A besieged and beleaguered town would rise up in cheer and song when a team arrived - ironically doing more to hinder the presence of Grimm than any four people could.
A small hand poked against his ribs, snapping him from his own thoughts as Amber pouted up at him. Ah… the impatience of youth… he really needed to stop getting lost in his own thoughts.
Dual wield? He chuckled to himself as he picked up the plastic guns, getting used to their weight. He could already imagine Ruby glaring at him, that silent threat of what she'd do to him if he actually believed dual wielding was a good idea. Don't worry, I'm not…
"Yeah, go Jaune!" Amber cheered as the lights flashed and his screen started to move, simulating a man walking through an abandoned building. Jaune's right arm rose, the left still slack at his side as he readied himself. Swords had always been his thing, and likely always would be… but learning how to use a gun had seemed an obvious choice once he settled into the repeats, and who better to learn from than Ruby Rose herself?
A small smile slipped onto his lips as the first Grimm appeared, fading away in an immediate shot to the head. Amber cheered.
Actually, asking for help with guns from Ruby had been a bit of a mistake. He'd always known the girl loved weaponry, but hadn't realised quite how much… not until the words left his mouth and Ruby's face had lit up like a Christmas tree. Hours upon hours... she didn't allow rest. Not until he was capable of firing a pistol and hitting a target consistently at twenty metres.
And that had only been the beginning… on the bright side it had only taken him a few weeks to become proficient at firearms. On the downside he'd been so tired and missed so much homework that he'd been made to sit through detentions with Miss Goodwitch for a solid month!
That was so long ago…
The gun clicked empty, and he allowed it to fall to his side as he drew up his left arm, adjusting his footing slightly to account for the change. While the right started to automatically reload, a small timer appearing on the screen, he continued firing with his left – downing a Grimm with each accurate shot.
"That's my brother!" A voice cheered as he noticed a few people beginning to crowd around them to watch. He didn't let it distract him, turning once more to bring up the freshly reloaded gun, his left arm folding behind his back. More Grimm, they had upgraded to Ursa, though it made no real difference. They still died in a single shot to the face, they simply moved a little quicker.
A fallacy… Beowolves were far more agile than their cumbersome brethren. Ursa were larger, stronger and much more robust… it was always best to just separate a limb, allow them to bleed out… or – if you could – cut off their head with a single strike. Taking one down with a single handgun would be an arduous task. At the least you'd need some kind of explosive dust, or maybe a heavily modified weapon like Ironwood's.
You're at an arcade Jaune, keep it together… they didn't even look like Grimm – more like polygons with red eyes. So, with a shake of his head, he broke free of such morbid thoughts. The final Grimm fell, breaking into polygons as the screen faded to white. High score, no damage, 100% accuracy – the crowd cheered.
"That was amazing!" Amber gasped, leaping onto his back as he pulled the tickets from the machine. She didn't weigh enough to knock him over and he managed to adjust to her before he could hit his head into the screen. "Oh my God, I didn't think you'd be so good at it – where did you learn to do that!?"
"Ah… here, mostly," he lied, counting the tickets as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself secured. "Play it enough times and you start to remember where they all come from." Ten tickets, that was a lot actually! A shame he couldn't repeat his success however, since there was now a long queue for the machine, the other kids eager to try and equal his score.
"You have to teach me that, please," the words were innocent… but they caused him to swallow nonetheless. That was a promise he could neither make nor keep.
"Maybe one day," he instead said, committing it to memory. One day he would try to keep that promise, to teach his little sister how to win at a simple arcade game. After all the fighting and the death it would be a worthy quest. There was an entire list of such promises, things he had to do once it was all over… let Ruby craft him a new weapon, visit Vacuo with Sun and Neptune, introduce Pyrrha to his sisters. The list was huge and ever-growing.
Before she could protest he reached out to rub her messy hair, "but not today squirt, we still need to get you a prize."
"Not a squirt," she hissed, pushing his hand from her hair and trying to push it back into some sense of order. Jaune could only shake his head, smiling down on her as she pouted and fussed.
His next choice was an egg-catching game, one where he needed to move a small basket using a lever so that it would catch plastic eggs as they fell through a maze. Again, a simple game meant for simple minds… where children might seek to react to how they fell, moving the basket about wildly – he simply waited a few minutes beforehand, memorising which entrance led to which exit.
Five minutes later, he had another five tickets to add to the tally. And with no queues gathering, he quickly ran through it another five times - up until Amber got bored anyway. Apparently even in the pursuit of a prize he needed to keep her entertained on different machines.
Such a demanding little sister…
"Let's take a break," he suggested after the next set of games – where he'd managed to eke out another six tokens from two rounds of throwing balls into holes. His accuracy with throwing didn't quite match up to guns sadly, likely because he wasn't used to his own strength. That and the fact that he'd never really bothered to learn it… Pyrrha was the only one who really liked to throw her weapon. Then again, she had the benefit of being able to control it mid-flight… and then bring it back again. "Only to have some lunch," he assured when she looked ready to argue, "Juniper's orders."
"Juni- you mean mum? Ugh… fine," she gave in, though she stomped one foot and crossed her arms - just to show it was on sufferance. "But right after that, you need to get back to winning!"
"Of course, my lady, now come on – your banquet awaits."
"Eat a little slower," he leaned over to brush some crumbs from her chin, and roughly a quarter of the pastry which had been squashed there in her effort to fit it all in at once. "By the time it reaches the plate the food isn't trying to run away."
"You sound like dad," Amber complained, fidgeting in his grip as she slurped at some overly caffeinated beverage, "you're not as cool as him though, so stop trying."
"You don't need to actually say that," he poked her nose, earning a quick giggle. In a household of women how was he supposed to measure up to someone like that, anyway? There was a reason he'd wanted to be a hero, back when this all started – before he knew what really made a hero.
That same wonderment had passed however; especially after the repeated tries he'd made for the man to train him. The early reasons were that he wasn't strong enough, after having so little conditioning he wouldn't be able to handle what training Nicholas could offer.
That had been a bitter pill to swallow, but it made sense. But when Jaune had managed to go back a full year, and bring his fitness up to par… the excuse had changed to something else. That he was too busy, that there wasn't enough time or that Jaune wasn't ready.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that his father never would train him, no matter what reasoning he gave. Not that it matters, I'm more than good enough to handle my own training now. It was still enough to make him bitter, but no longer did it weigh on him.
"I'm done!" Amber crowed, setting her plastic plate down even as Jaune looked at the half-finished food on his own. He'd seen Ruby eat with more patience - even with a plate of cookies before her. "You done yet?"
You can see I'm not, he thought to himself. Still, he nodded and pushed himself up unable to hide his smile at her antics. This day was for her after all… he could eat at any time, but these would be the last memories of him she had.
He was going to make them special… even if he had to find special, kill it, and drag it back by its metaphorical ears. Stuffing a final bite into his mouth, he left the remainder behind. One of the waitresses glanced at them as they passed, though much like the person in the arcade itself there was no energy to be had. Honestly the food was crap too, re-heated garbage… three days ago he'd have killed for it, but after tasting homemade cooking it was a poor substitute.
"GAY!"
The sound made him pause. For no other reason than the sheer randomness of it, a single word shouted out across the street in broad daylight. Not even an insult, but a mere explanation of orientation. Amber bumped into his side as they both looked at a ring of young teens surrounding two figures.
What on Remnant?
"W-We shouldn't get involved…" Amber hesitated, gripping his hand before he could step forward. He spared a glance for her, then the situation ahead. There were about six or seven of them in total, of various heights and builds. It actually took him a few seconds to realise why she was frightened of them.
Because she's not a Huntress.
Because to someone like Amber, people like this were scary and could very much hurt her. Whereas to him and the life he'd lived – they were nothing more than civilians - people to be protected, even if they were harassing others. He simply wasn't used to hanging around people who weren't capable of tearing the head off a monster before breakfast.
And he wasn't either, realistically. With no aura and no physical training he was as much a child as they were. But that didn't mean he would sit back either. Not with everything he'd been through.
"What's the problem here?" He called, walking between two of the teens so that he could see inside the ring. Amber stuck close to his side, hiding her face against his hip, but it wasn't her who caught his eye. As saliva got trapped in his throat.
He was practised. He'd had decades of pretending he didn't know his friends when he first met them, so there was no real temptation or risk to shout out their names and give anything away. But it was a shock nonetheless. What were they doing here at Ansel?
Bright orange hair, it was different from how he'd always known it – with a cute bow he knew she'd remove in time. But even then, there was no mistaking that wide smile and bright eyes, filled with cheer and confidence – even if she was being insulted and surrounded. Even at the worst of times, when everything was doomed, she always had a smile for them. Hell… Nora could probably massacre these kids alone… she was bound to have some training - even at this age.
And of course, where there was one – so were there two. Lie Ren, standing calmly in the centre of the ring with not a care in the world. As though assault by six teenage boys was his usual midweek routine. He was so small though… like, wow… someone was about to have a growth spurt, because right now he couldn't be more than five foot two.
"Who asked you, nerd?" A round of laughter, it was almost enough to make him sigh. Good Lord, now he was being hazed… by children.
"When you stand in the middle of a street shouting random words, you shouldn't be surprised when people hear. Is there any reason you're harassing these two?"
The leader, or rather who Jaune assumed was the leader, paused. It apparently took him a moment or two to even comprehend what Jaune was saying. "Like it's any of your business, that guy," he pointed at Ren, who raised one brow in response, "has pink hair!"
Jaune looked back. Indeed, Ren did still have his single lock of pink hair. It suddenly struck him that he'd never really asked about that… it couldn't be natural (though given Neopolitan's hair style, who even knew?), but if it was dyed, then Jaune never saw him apply it.
"He does." Jaune agreed, wondering what the point of it all was.
"He's a guy," the bully said, "with pink hair!"
"And? You'll have to explain this to me; I'm still not getting it." It was just hair… some people cared a lot, some people didn't – and then there was Yang. But even so, what was the guy on about?
"That means he's gay!"
"Gay!" "Gaybo!" The other boys all chanted while laughing. Amber pushed her face deeper into his stomach as the crowd closed in. Jaune, for his part, could only tilt his head. Honestly lost.
"That's it?" He looked back at Ren, who noticing his new companion's gaze could only shrug. "That's what this is all about!? Pink hair, what are you – twelve!?"
"And a half!" The boy felt the need to add, right as Jaune's hand slapped into his face. He could feel the migraine building. Right… yeah, they were twelve, weren't they? Which meant it came with all the horror that schoolyard prejudice was. Goodness, had he ever actually been frightened by this kind of stuff?
Cardin would roll over and die if he saw this…
Amber however, was frightened, which was enough to bring his mind back to the task. Even if they were two years younger than him physically there were still six of them – and though Jaune couldn't remember what his own reputation was like in Ansel - he was fairly sure "wimp" would be a safe bet.
But wimp or not, and it was a resounding not in this case, he wasn't going to allow two of his best friends, people who had stuck with him through thick and thin - whether they knew it or not - to suffer. Not when he could do something about it.
"There's no point in any of this," he said, speaking only to the one who was in command. "Why don't you just head back to the arcade, that's got to be more fun than causing problems for visitors, right?"
Perfect logic, something even they couldn't disagr-
"You telling me what to do, Arc?" The boys bristled, fanning a little wider around them to cut off any escape. Jaune rubbed the fingers of one hand between his eyes. Was it honestly going to come to this, a schoolyard scrap with a bunch of snot-nosed kids? He'd forgotten that logic didn't work when it came to the schoolyard.
"You don't need to do this," a familiar male voice whispered from behind him. "We'll be fine."
"Look after my sister, will you?" He unhooked Amber's hands from his jacket, pushing her towards Ren and Nora. She didn't look like she appreciated the gesture, but as Nora's arms wrapped around the little girl, he knew she'd be safe. He turned back to the idiot stood before him. "I am, actually. I'm telling you to leave these people alone, go off and enjoy your day like adul- like normal people."
"And if we don't want to?" The twelve and a half year old squared his feet, puffing out his chest like some kind of fat bird displaying its crest. Jaune was even less impressed than he had been earlier.
"You'll have to see." They couldn't be reasoned with, because there was more at stake than their own safety – something only of value to idiots and children… street cred. Jaune realised the bully couldn't back down, not and keep the support of his fellows.
How pathetic.
"Behind you," Amber yelled, voice high-pitched and frightened. Jaune simply closed his eyes with a sigh however.
He'd already heard it.
A short step to the left, lazy almost, as a fist passed through the space his head had occupied a good two seconds earlier. A long time in a fight, but this was hardly a fight at all… the boy who had thrown it didn't even seem to have been ready for such a possibility – and tripped over his own feet. He fell to the pavement with a bang, hitting his knee on the floor. Before he immediately started crying.
"I didn't do anything," Jaune said automatically, half expecting an angry Glynda Goodwitch to come flying out of a nearby building to punish him. The remaining boys stiffened, suddenly aware of the consequences of their actions now that one of them was down.
Down with a scraped knee… I feel embarrassed to be even winning this.
The leader moved, swinging one arm in a wide circle… there didn't seem to be any reason for it, a punch was always better when delivered in a straight line, but he didn't expect them to really know that. Ducking beneath it he stepped up and into the boy's guard, though he didn't actually strike. He didn't need to, as the bully collided into him, bouncing back off his body and falling to the ground. There were some advantages to being a gangly six-foot teen…
"What the hell's going on here?" A new voice shouted. Interrupting the fight before anyone else could injure themselves on him. Jaune looked towards the new figure in relief, letting out a short sigh when he saw it was an older teen – probably sixteen or seventeen. At least they'd be able to break up the fight and scare off the others.
"He hit me," the bully on the floor shouted, "he already hit Todd, then he had a go at me!"
"Did you hit my brother?"
Or not… seriously, where was his luck recently? Oh right, it was trapped in his past life dying under a flaming piece of wreckage. Luck was not something Jaune Arc had ever truly experienced.
"Your brother was bullying these newcomers," Jaune tried to explain - regardless of the fact he was sure it wouldn't work. The older teen was already cracking the fingers of one hand, causing superficial cartilage damage in an attempt to intimidate him. "I stepped in to protect them, and no, I didn't hit him. He ran into me and fell over."
"Stay still kid," the taller teen growled, "I'll make this quick."
For the love of… he was faster than the younger one, with better form too. Nothing compared to the people Jaune had known through his lives, it was more a stance forged from numerous brawls and pointless fights with people of equally low skill.
It was enough however, that he wouldn't fall over or hurt himself when he was throwing punches around. Which meant that despite not wanting to, he'd actually have to get involved in this one.
How irritating…
The first blow sailed over his left shoulder, the force of it blowing a few strands of blond hair aside. The second came as a kick, clumsy and awkward it struck Jaune's raised arm without doing any real damage. But it wasn't until the next punch that Jaune noticed a very real problem… the guy was wearing a ring; on the hand was making most of the attacks with. Nothing special and hardly expensive, but solid enough that if it hit there would be some real damage.
And judging from the smirk on the teen's face, he more than knew.
"Jaune, catch!" His sister shouted as something sailed through the air behind him. He only briefly glimpsed it over his left shoulder, the familiar sight enough to spark his instincts. One hand snapped out, settling around a soft hilt, as he fell into a familiar stance.
Only to be interrupted by raucous laughter.
"Fuck," the older teen nearly sobbed, bending over with one hand on his knee, "that's too good… oh you crack me up!"
Jaune's eyes closed, a breath escaping through his nostrils. Damn it Amber… when he opened them, the sight before him persisted still. An inflatable yellow sword, the handle of which was plastic, flopping wildly before him…
She must have stolen it from Nora, who would be the only one who could ever find something like this funny. And here he was; legs bent, left shoulder presented forward as he wielded the floppy weapon in a two-handed grip.
Well… in for a penny?
"I figured since you're using a weapon," Jaune said, pointing the balloon-like material towards the teen's hand, "that I should have one too. Don't worry, to make it fair mine is made of plastic – you need all the help you can get after all."
"Fuck you," his opponent eloquently extoled, leaping forward to throw another fist at Jaune's face. He'd have liked to deflect it, were the weapon rigid enough for that… but the fact that it wasn't firm didn't make it any less of a weapon.
Squeak! The plastic slammed into the teen's face, creating a satisfying slapping sound as his face whipped to the side. Even as the embarrassing noise-maker in the end sounded. A few of the boys around them winced, as the older one stroked his red cheek with one hand. It might not cut… but Balloona Mors sure did sting. And with how easily he'd dodged the attack - and those before it - his opponent was starting to realise what kind of situation he was in.
Dodging once might be called luck, twice a coincidence… but three or more times in a row? Even an idiot could see the pattern…
"Screw this," the boy pushed his fringe back with one hand, faking a smile. "If this kid wants to play his toys then let him, we don't have time for this loser."
"Y-Yeah," the bully from earlier agreed, climbing to his feet and moving to follow his brother. "See you later, loser!"
Jaune could only watch them go, fighting back the yawn that struggled to escape. Give him Cinder Fall any day… this was exhausting.
"You're hunter trained," were the first real words Ren spoke to him, as the two males stood against a wall, watching the girls play on some kind of dancing game. Amber had been ecstatic after the fight, though still a little shaken. Nora - bless her - had noticed immediately, and convinced the girl to let her help win a prize on the machines.
She'd always been like that, noticing the mood and doing what she could to improve it. It was what you could always rely on Nora for… that and pancakes.
"A little," Jaune replied, taking a subtle pleasure in being with his old friend once more. Where some might struggle to understand the quiet boy Jaune had decades practice reading between the lines. He'd also perfected the art of making friends with the two over time, just to make the transitions easier. "More than they had, anyway."
"Not many people would stand up for strangers like that. Thanks."
"Juni - my mother - always said strangers are just friends you haven't met yet," he rattled off the familiar line, as he always did. Back then it had been something he used to ward off the embarrassment of having to speak to new people. Nowadays it was his own personal joke; a snippet of honesty for the friends that hadn't had the chance to meet him yet. "Besides, if I'm going to be a Huntsman, I can't let stuff like that happen and not step in."
"You're going to be a Hunter?" Ren's magenta eyes looked him up and down, the results of his analysis unspoken, "Nora and I are also aiming for that."
"Perhaps we'll see each other again then," Jaune hid his smile, offering a fresh can of fruit juice to the boy – Ren's favourite. It would be useful indeed to lay the groundwork ahead of time. It wouldn't change much – but it would save time, his most previous resource. "I'm hoping for Beacon myself. It's one of the best combat schools around."
"Then perhaps we will see each other again. We're planning on the same route. For now we're just travelling, expanding our horizons." Because they didn't have anywhere to live or a family to live with - he knew the real reasons. Not that he would say them out loud. Neither of them felt bad about their situation, or wanted any pity at all. It was one of the many things he admired about them.
"It'll be nice to have someone I've already met there," he said instead, dodging the elephant in the room as they went back to watching their two companions. Nora was as energetic as ever, much more than the machine could ever hope to match. And as the game came to an end, he wasn't surprised to see tickets for a victory pouring forth.
"Jaune, Jaune," Amber crowed, running up to him with a trail of tickets behind her, "Nora did it – she was so cool!"
"Cooler than me?" He joked as he took the tickets, counting and adding them to the pile.
"So much cooler!" She didn't even hesitate, and if he'd been in possession of his aura he could imagine it being knocked into the yellow instantly. This girl… holy crap…
"My battered ego aside," the blond drawled, sharing an indulgent look with Ren, the black-haired boy nodding back in understanding. "I think we've maybe got enough for the top prize." Amber's bright blue eyes went wide, her whole body shaking in excitement, "but… well, I did all the work myself, and I'm thinking maybe that plastic sword looks cool."
Her face fell, skin going ashen as she turned to look where he was pointing – to see the gaudy and disgusting looking thing, covered in bright tinfoil. It sat beside the main prize she truly wanted, a stuffed unicorn as big as her. Her gaze flicked between the two, before coming back to him.
He tried to maintain his pose, one hand below his chin as he hummed loudly. Above her head he could see Nora giggling.
"You…" Amber paused, looking honestly pained. "You're the coolest, bestest brother in the whole of Remnant…?"
"That's nice of you to say, hmm… maybe I could hang it on my wall?"
"The bestest! Even better than dad – even better than X-ray and Vav, and I love you so much!" She hopped on one foot, hands clasped together as though praying to some higher power. He couldn't hold it in, handing over the tickets with a laugh. "Yes, thank you - thank you!" A sloppy kiss, placed directly on his cheek as she hung from his neck, before she ran off faster than even Ruby could have.
"Aww," Nora cooed once she'd gone, "Renny, when I have kids you need to be like that!"
"When you have kids, I'm going to run away and hide," the boy replied, "especially if they're anything like you."
"Nope!" Nora grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and dragging the exasperated boy into her developing breasts, "I won't let you~"
"Jaune here's going to be coming to Beacon as well." Ren saw an opportunity to escape the girl's grasp, and promptly threw Jaune beneath the tyres.
"That's great," Nora laughed, "we should totally be on a team together. Can you make a sound like a giraffe?" Don't ask, Ren mouthed when Jaune looked at him.
"No," the blonde admitted, watching her face fall, "but I can do a decent sloth impression."
"Hmm… sloths are pretty cool too, now that I think about it…" The girl went off into her own mind, no doubt considering the merits of sloths against giraffes. He had a feeling sloths would win.
"Jaune~" Amber sang as she ran up to them, almost stumbling over the huge unicorn. "Look – it's so cute!"
"Almost as cute as you," he picked the girl up, giving her a peck on the cheek. Amber's face went red as she buried her face in his neck, though he did notice her arms wrap around him. Nora `awwed` loudly, rocking back and forth as she watched them. The moment was broken when his scroll went off – the alarm he'd set earlier signalling the end of their time.
Damn it… he'd genuinely enjoyed seeing them again. He'd have liked to invite them back to the house, to spend more time with them while also making sure they had somewhere to sleep. But with him leaving at the soonest opportunity? That wouldn't be fair… they'd be caught up in all the drama his departure would cause.
His departure… he hadn't thought about it, so wrapped up in winning something for Amber. No… he was lying to himself, so wrapped up in having fun, genuine honest-to-goodness fun.
It had felt good to let loose…
"Maybe we'll see each other again at Beacon," Nora said once they were ready to depart. Ren nodded over her shoulder, imparting the same message as Jaune placed Amber down, letting her secure the unicorn with both arms.
"You can count on it, I'll see you there." An amusing thought came to his mind before they left, and as they turned away – he fired one last comment back to Ren. "Make sure to find out what noise a sloth makes, you'll need it."
"What sound does a sloth make?" Amber asked, once it was just the two of them walking home. He pretended to think about it for a moment, looking up towards the clear blue sky.
He reached out to tweak her nose, watching the girl jump back in shock.
"Boop!"
"I'm gonna show this to the others," Amber could barely contain herself by the time they reached the Arc house. Even as they approached her mood had only seemed to increase, the girl giggling and hopping about in excitement. Jaune pretended to put the remaining lien back in the drawer, slipping it into one pocket instead. Amber didn't notice. Too busy tugging her toy towards the main corridor. "Stay here, okay?"
"Sure, sure," he laughed, waiting until the girl was through the door before turning to what was truly on his mind. The moment he'd entered the kitchen its presence had struck him, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders.
Crocea Mors hung, gleaming slightly in the afternoon light. It was just half a day, he argued, shaking his head. I'll get going soon, don't worry…
What's to stop me leaving now?
The thought froze him. His parents were nowhere to be seen, his task for the day complete. There was no way Amber would blame herself for what had happened here, not after the time they'd spend together. And even if she did… what did it matter? He would push himself onward and either succeed - or gain a few more weeks the next time. If it were the former… he could come back and apologise… no, he could fix things.
Words were cheap. He would come back and prove that he loved her. And if it were the latter, yet another death, then what did it matter? All of this would cease to exist. It wouldn't matter.
Did I waste my time today, on something that doesn't even mean anything?
All the games, the tickets and tokens… would his friends look on him with anger for that? No… he knew the answer as soon as he thought it. There wasn't a one of them that would begrudge him the time spent with his family, they would all support it.
They could support it. But he couldn't.
He was on the job… he had a duty to fulfil, people to save, others to stop – to kill.
"It's time," Jaune reached out for the weapon as he spoke those words. He could feel her long before he touched the glass case. Her presence had always been there, leather grip warm in his hand.
Fingers touched the glass, breath escaping him in rapid bursts, was his hand shaking – or was it his eyesight that was blurring?
"Son?" His arm snapped back, body going stiff as he turned to look at who had spoken. Nicholas stood in the doorway, face unreadable. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," the answer was automatic and he cursed himself for it. "Sorry – I saw something on the glass, thought it was a tuft of hair or something."
"Probably mine," the taller man chuckled, rubbing a hand through his rough, shoulder-length hair. "Don't worry about it. Why don't you come through to the living room, I think your mother wants to speak to you."
Damn it, so close…
"Sure, I'm coming." It didn't matter… he'd already wasted away a day and a half, what were a few more hours? Once they were in bed, when the house was dark and asleep, then he would make his move. That would be easier anyway. Less chance of anyone else noticing what was going on.
He followed his father through the dimmed corridors, wondering idly at the lack of light or even the lack of people. There were eight others in the house, with his sisters and mother. It didn't seem feasible that there wouldn't be someone running around or causing a ruckus.
"Through here," Nicholas said, pushing Jaune into the doorway, before a bright light shone into his eyes. What on Rem-?
"Happy Birthday!" A dull explosion, as confetti fired into his face, followed quickly by the loud blaring of some kind of horn-based instrument. He barely had time to blink the streamers out of his eyes, before someone crashed into him.
"Happy birthday brother," Amber cried, hugging his waist. A hand settled on his shoulder from behind, Nicholas leaning forward to rough up his hair.
"Happy birthday kiddo, gods you're growing up fast." His mother waved at him too, a smile filled with pride and love – even as the other girls waved streamers or blew horns. The entire room was festooned with decorations. Balloons, banners, he could even see some party lights blinking around the edges of the ceiling.
"What-?" He tried to find the words. His birthday? He hadn't even known… he… hell, he couldn't even remember when that was.Every time he just ran away – training and training until the important date, the only date he did remember.
The date of Beacon's initiation… Birthdays were something others celebrated, Ruby's, Yang's, Pyrrha's… but whenever they asked for his he dodged the question.
"You look surprised bro," Jade laughed, putting down her horn. "Amber had to distract you all day so we could set this up. You better appreciate it."
"Jade!" Coral rebuked, slapping the younger girl on the arm, "she means happy birthday, she loves you – she's just too shy to admit it."
"Do not!" Jade bristled, though the blush on her face told a different story. Juniper laughed, walking up to give him a great hug – entrapping Amber between them.
"Happy birthday sweetie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead.
"You were doing this all day?" They all seemed amused by his words, not one of them understanding the true reason for his panic. All day… they'd been preparing for this moment; putting in all this effort for him – because they loved him.
And he'd been planning how to run away.
If I'd left Amber at the arcade… if I'd stolen Crocea Mors and run not two minutes ago? He knew the answer, even as the ushered him into a big seat and pushed some presents before him. If Jaune Arc had left as he intended to, then they would have been alone.
The family would have sat in this very room, surrounded by the decorations for his birthday – only to face the slow realisation that he had run away from home. What would they think? That he hated them? That he didn't care about any of them? That on his birthday, of all days, he'd finally had enough of each of them…?
The thought hit harder than he expected.
"Aren't you going to open it?" His mother said, drawing his attention to the large parcel in his lap. Covered in shiny red paper, it had a solid weight to it – not to mention its unusual shape. "That one's from your father and I."
His hand shook as he peeled back the paper, the unusual sound of foil and plastic crackling beneath his fingers. Ever so slowly it came back, revealing a black case of studded leather – with a metallic clip on the side. He couldn't remember it, yet he could – if that made any sense. Something about it felt familiar; but without opening it he couldn't tell what.
The top half gave way, clicking open as soft red velvet and varnished wood appeared before him. Azure eyes widened as he took it in, fingers tracing across the soft surface.
His acoustic guitar.
He'd… forgotten all about it. In fact the last time he'd even touched it must have been… no, could it be? The last time he'd touched it was during his first life – the original life. Back before this all began. He'd played it for Weiss, hadn't he? Maybe that was too strong a term on second thought. More like he'd played it to the hardwood surface of her door.
The memory was almost enough to bring a chuckle from him, but the air got trapped half way, coming out as a cough.
"Is it…" Nicholas' voice sounded strained, worried, "if it's not okay I can-"
"I love it." He didn't look at either of them, lest they saw the moisture in his eyes. His first life… it was nothing more than blurred memories and indistinct feelings. But it shouldn't be! It should have been something he held onto – cherished. Where had it gone? "It's amazing, I really love it."
But he couldn't play it. Not anymore. Of all the skills he'd picked up in the decades, all the random things he'd tried to learn to give him that edge he needed. Music had never been one of them. Because what could it achieve, realistically? Entertainment and fun, they were nice words but they didn't stop Cinder, they didn't defend against Grimm – that one guy's semblance aside. His skills at the guitar had been something he'd allowed to die out… a necessary sacrifice.
He would have to relea- no…
No. He couldn't.
It had taken the best part of twenty or thirty years to reach this point, and even then it was only possible because of the training he did before Beacon. If he had survived twenty-five months into Beacon, it was only because he had twenty-four to train before. If he wasted time on learning the guitar, even if it was just a few hours a night – then that might mean he lost time.
He couldn't lose time.
"Mine next!" Sable appeared before him, pushing a smaller package into his hands. "Me, Hazel and Sapphire saved up for this together – so it's from all three of us." He nodded, still uncertain on what to say as he looked at it. It looked like it had come from three people too. And that each of them had felt the need to somehow be involved in the wrapping at the same time. It was a complete mess of bows, stickers and ribbon.
So much effort…
"It's the latest scroll," Sapphire explained once he carefully discarded the paper. She listed some more details, pointing at various parts of the device and explaining why they were important for a boy his age. It was actually the same scroll he'd always had.
He must have forgotten... that it came from his sisters… he hadn't made it this far back before now.
"I'll treasure it," he promised – this time an honest one that he could keep. It would serve him on his travels and beyond. Again his eyes stung, one arm coming up to wipe the back of his sleeve across them. No one seemed to mind though - and no one commented on it.
Other presents came thick and fast. Clothing, food, sweets, and board games – he opened each with care and made sure to thank whoever gave it as much as he could. Once those were gone the party descended into music and drinks – there was even a cake.
Somehow it exhausted him, all the emotion being thrown around – all the love. It was just too much for his already strained mind to comprehend. Instead of playing with them he found himself slumped in the seat he had been pushed into, fighting back a yawn as some of the younger sisters argued about a ruling in one of the newly opened board games.
"You're still tired?" Juniper asked as she sat beside him, resting on the armrest with a slice of cake in hand. In contrast to her usual nature she didn't use a plate, instead balancing the piece of chocolate between finger and thumb as she took a bite. There was icing smeared across her lips, but she just winked at him.
"Just a little," he admitted, fighting back another yawn. His eyes felt heavy, as did his limbs. But it would be rude of him to fall asleep when they'd put so much effort in. He also didn't want to close his eyes, because it would be the last time he ever saw them. He wanted to savour it.
"You can sleep if you want to," she whispered, leaning down to wrap her arms around him. He felt her chin against his head, one hand brushing through his locks with an almost soporific effect. The combined effect of her warmth and the fingers running through his hair made it harder to stop his eyes drifting shut. "Happy birthday sweetie," she whispered, "I love you."
"-ve you too... mum."
It was dark, when next he woke. Somehow it felt as though it should be too; the dark matched his mood perfectly. Looking down at the couch he'd fallen asleep on, not to mention the thick blanket someone had strewn across him. Cakes and discarded wrapping paper littered the floor, along with cards and pieces of tinsel.
It accused him. A cruel reminder of what it was he would do – of what they would awake to.
But it couldn't be helped… he had to do this. If he didn't, if he spent more time here – then he would never leave. There would never be a good time to run away from his family. Whenever he left it would hurt them and since they didn't agree with him attending Beacon, it would have to happen eventually.
Better to do it now, tear off the bandage quick.
"I'll come back one day," he said as he lifted Crocea Mors from its case. It had only been two days without it by his side. But somehow it felt incredibly heavy in his hand. "I promise I'll come back one day."
Another empty promise for the list.
The kitchen drawer opened sluggishly, or perhaps it was he who did it so, the lien he took burned a hole in his hand. He already had the supplies ready by the door, just another act of theft to take one of Nicholas' camping sets. It would be clear what had happened when they woke up.
They'd know he had left them. They just wouldn't know why… or maybe they would – but they would never understand why.
It's not my fault, he argued, I do love them but this is bigger than me, bigger than us. What happens at Beacon will spread across all of Vale in time.
He couldn't just give it all up. Not after he'd spent so long getting to this point. Foreknowledge meant nothing without the training he needed, much like how skill meant nothing without the strength to use it. He needed the training time if he wanted to have a hope of even making it past the Vytal Festival. Let alone what came after…
It was his duty. His burden.
Couldn't you spend just a little more time here – for them? The small voice in his mind accused. Everything he did. Everything he'd always done. It had all been for his friends, for Vale, for people he didn't know. If he spent just a little more time here… would it be that disastrous?
He'd lose time, for sure… but a week might only mean he lost a month or so in this timeline. It would push him back, but not massively. It might take a repeat or two to get back to this point, but it would happen – and more importantly – he would have done something for his family.
Crocea Mors weighed down on his arm. An ever present reminder.
One week… it wouldn't even change anything, would it? He'd still have to leave in the end – and come that time he'd no doubt feel the same hesitation he did now. If that continued on then he'd be weak… too weak to even get into Beacon legitimately.
He couldn't even remember where he got his fake records from… so he wouldn't be accepted into Beacon – which meant…
Which meant…?
If he didn't enter Beacon, then he wouldn't become part of Team JNPR – which meant he wouldn't be present when they were attacked at Amity. Cinder would win. She would take the Fall Maiden's powers, Pyrrha would die.
But then… wouldn't she die anyway, even if Jaune was there?
Even if he went back and gained an extra month from the training he did now. It would still mean all his friends would die. But if he wasn't there, if Jaune Arc was safe back home when this all happened?
How long would he survive?
Crocea Mors clattered as he laid it on the kitchen table, taking a seat across from it - almost as though he was holding a meeting with the sword itself. He didn't need to physically be at Beacon when he died, for the repeats to happen. Those times where he'd died in prison, or the asylums, were proof enough of that. Hell, when he'd died under Cinder's employ he hadn't ever technically been a student.
So if he died at home it wouldn't make a difference. He would still come back; and it would still be however long he survived after the Beacon initiation.
Except that by avoiding the fight altogether he would only die when the effects of Cinder's actions spread to Ansel. No… by that point he would be eighteen. If he wished to he could flee or evacuate when the Grimm came. Hell, with what he knew, he could go hide in Vacuo. Cinder's plans focused on Vale and Mistral, with Atlas getting involved thanks to the SDC. Who gave a shit about Vacuo though – it was all sand!?
If the war didn't reach him for three or four years, then that meant he'd have that same amount of time to prepare… it could doublehow much time he had now! But what if it took five, six – even more!?
His entire body shook, heart beating rapidly in his chest. Could it work, could it seriously work? Of all the things he'd tried in his repeats, everything he could possibly think of… had he ever considered doing nothing?
There was no reason it couldn't work… time and time again it had been proven that he went back however long he survived after the start of initiation. In those runs where he'd spoken to Ozpin or Ironwood, he'd never actually been present for it. Yet he still came back.
This… this could actually work… as insane as it sounds. He could spend time with his family, a whole two years to become a part of it once more. And then, when Beacon came? He would ignore the call. He wasn't expected to attend. no one even wanted him to.
No one would miss him.
It would be abandoning his friends… there was no way around that. But did it count as abandoning when it was done with the express purpose of helping them? A tactical retreat, biding his time… gathering his forces.
It might even let me see the later stages of their plan, ones I haven't seen yet because I haven't reached them. His fingers pried loose, creaking as he let go of the leather hilt. With a deep breath he stood, lifting it up by the blade and cross guard instead – before placing it back within the case, glass sliding shut with a soft click.
"Not this time, Crocea Mors." He whispered, stepping back and turning away. Back to the couch, those warm sheets and a family that loved him.
And as the lights flicked off and the door clicked shut?
His shoulders had never felt lighter.
Holiday taken and accepted. The story won't suddenly lose all seriousness, but you can no doubt see that it can now match the summary. Author notes shouldn't really be this long again - there's just something to address in them on this chapter, sort of a disclaimer of sorts.
Hoo boy, this is a long chapter. About to get longer through notes, welp. So yeah – a lot was covered here, and Jaune officially takes his holiday. As you can see, this makes a little more sense given his character and personality. I thought it would be more than a little OoC for him to wake up and just go "balls to this, screw my friends, I'm out!"
We've also covered some – but not all – of his early life of repeats. So, to answer those who asked, yes – Jaune hastried a wide array of things. Loads of different things, over and over… we all think about that when it comes to these kind of stories, don't we?
Because they all end on the second or third, when someone finds a new way of doing things and it all just goes well. But what happens when it doesn't? What happens when fifty or sixty repeats later… it's still not working? Do you give up?
What else is there to say? Oh, I know.
Yes, some may disagree with the results of alternate loops. "There's no way Ozpin wouldn't accept his time travelling!" or "If he talks about Penny, Ironwood would have to believe him!"
We'll all have differing views on these things, of course we will. I am of the firm belief that there's no way this could ever work out. Ironwood and Ozpin (as just one example - but this holds true for other random repeats) are both in this huge subterfuge battle with Cinder, before Beacon even starts (since Fall Maiden attack happened before it we assume) – so both are aware of spies, and looking for them. Then this "time traveller" shows up, spouting state secrets? State secrets he knows either due to time travel, or being a spy... when they're already looking for a spy? I know which I'd believe.
Again, if you disagree – let's agree to disagree. But I can't see them buying it. It shouldn't influence the enjoyment of the story too much anyway, since it's in the past. If you want, just take it as "for the purposes of this story, no earlier solutions Jaune tried worked out." Basically, I don't want to get into arguments with people who fully believe that "Pyrrha would believe him!" or something. Maybe you think there's a password he could use on someone... something infallible... but I'm not sure there's any that couldn't have been found through more mundane skills, like hacking - or interrogating someone. You think that, I don't - let's just not worry about it and not argue about it! :D
Like I said, not bashing on anyone who "does" this kind of stuff. Even if I dislike it when people instantly accept or believe time travel – I mean, at least make it grudging, or require serious proof… but hey-ho. I dislike harems too, but others enjoy them. It's all subjective, and we like different things.
Beta's Notes:
Yo.
I'm College Fool, and I'm Coeur's muse/Beta for Not This Time, Fate, and I am not a crook. Usually.
In case you think that You Too can win the privilege of being Coeur's Beta by contributing to Coeur's , I'm sad to say that's not how I got this privilege. After all, if I patronized Coeur with anything more than words, I'd insist he write those backlog fills for Writer Games. [/badum-tish] I'm here since I was Coeur's muse for this since about... has it really been 9 months ago? NTTF is an old idea that came well before Season 3 even started, and I'm pleased it can be read by an audience with the right frame of reference.
Is the premise is a no-sell for you? Can't accept countless losses by Our Hero, or uninterested in jumping well past a character's initial character development? Shame, thanks for trying, hope you have a good day. For the rest- I bet more of you will enjoy it than not. A lot more people, and a lot more enjoyment. NTTF is going to be a good length story, and dare I say it, a great experience. Something that will (hopefully) keep you entertained for the rest of the year, more or less.
There's been a lot of thought into this story, and so I'll sign off just recommending each and every one of you keep an open mind and patience. If you think you've already seen the critical flaw that undermines the premise and invalidates the story... eh, you probably haven't. Chances are if it's not inconsequential- it's deliberate.
Till next time,
C.
Patreon. com (slash) Coeur