Something had chased him in the dark.
He couldn't remember what it looked like-just the shape of it, the way it moved and the sound it made...like something rough was being dragged behind him.
Like teeth across pavement but even that faded away.
It faded into a cacophony of noises.
His eyes opened, sharp and alert but the sound wasn't anything to worry about.
Just the sharp annoying blare of his phone alarm screaming from the nightstand.
Jaune groaned, rolled over, and blindly slapped at his phone until it cut off. The silence that followed seemed to ring louder than the alarm did.
A faint headache tugged behind his eyes. Dull and steady, like the echo of a half-formed thought unwilling to be remembered.
He frowned.
'That was weird...'
Sitting up slowly, he rubbed at his face.
"Morning, I guess," he muttered to no one in particular.
Jaune wondered if he was dehydrated. That would explain the dull throb that was shaking his temples.
Fortunately, the ache faded before he reached the bathroom, already dissolving into the usual morning fog of a budding routine.
'A normal day, then.'
He went through the familiar motions of toothbrush, toothpaste and water cold enough to make him flinch.
Rinsing his mouth, he looked up and met his reflection in the mirror.
Still the same him.
Messy blond hair that always looked like it needed a trim and fair skin that never quite tanned. His eyes however, seemed clearer than they had the night before, but perhaps it was simply the lighting.
Or the cold water.
He stared a little longer than necessary, indulging his inner narcissist, then turned the shower on.
Steam quickly filled the room, blurring the mirror. By the time he stepped out, he realized he still had time to spare and began dressing without rush.
Now vaguely awake and adorned in a comfortable hoodie and pants, he headed downstairs, drawn into the kitchen by the smell of breakfast.
His father stood at the stove, flipping eggs with one hand and drinking coffee with the other. A truly skilled multitasker of a dad.
He wore a plain white dress shirt that still showed faint fold lines and a tie that didn't quite match—but somehow, he pulled the look off better than Jaune thought possible.
"Morning, soldier," his dad voiced, without turning. "You look like someone just told you school got extended by three years."
'Dad must've heard my footsteps,' Jaune thought.
"I feel like I ran a marathon in my sleep," he said, slumping into a chair. "And lost."
His dad chuckled and scraped eggs onto two plates. "First day nerves?"
"More like... first day realism."
"You'll be fine. You've got… uh, charm, wit, and a strong Arc chin?"
Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Right.... like I didn't hear the hesitation in your voice. And you keep saying that like it's a real thing."
"It is a real thing. All Arcs are born with it. It's a recessive gene tied to awkward social encounters and mild back pain."
"Explains a lot, actually."
His dad placed a plate in front of him and sat across the table.
"Big day for the both of us," he said, sipping his coffee. "I've got to pretend I know what I'm doing, in a new office, with strangers who have no idea I've been winging it for five years."
"Comforting."
He smirked and shrugged. "I figured out logistics back in Ansel. Vale's branch is better staffed and more organized, so we know that they're competent... probably. They even gave me a badge this time."
"A badge huh? Impressive. So you're official now."
"I was official a week ago, but yes. Who knows, I might even get a mug with my name on it."
Jaune smiled into his eggs. "What's your job title again?"
"Operations Manager. Which is a fancy way of saying, 'I tell people what to do and then hide in spreadsheets.'"
"Sounds thrilling."
"Pays the bills. And it got us this house which you'll like once you settle in."
Jaune didn't respond right away. He watched his dad butter the toast with a quiet efficiency—like he'd done it a hundred times and would do it a hundred more.
The familiarity helped his nerves.
"I know that look," his dad said, not looking up. "Go on. Speak your mind."
Jaune sighed.
"School and I are like oil and water. We aren't gonna mix."
"Well, at least it's not your old school. You had trouble making friends, right?"
"Trouble's putting it lightly, Dad. I had no friends. Period."
His father tried—and failed—not to smirk. He muttered something under his breath about how it was even possible for someone to be that bad at socializing.
Jaune heard it and cringed, but couldn't argue against it as it was true.
"Well… new beginnings, hopefully?"
"I still can't believe Mom actually agreed to let me transfer."
"You and me both. How'd you even convince her?"
"No idea. But between the two of us, it was probably Jade who did the convincing."
"Jade, huh?" His dad rubbed his chin. "Yeah. That makes sense."
Jaune was the youngest of eight Arc children. His parents had always wanted a big family—and worked hard to make it happen. Funnily enough, he was the only boy. He'd grown up protected, spoiled, and maybe even a little too sheltered for his own good.
Which was why this, was Jaune's attempt to...spread his wings, of sorts.
Jade was his youngest sister. Still older by a year, but different in every other way. She'd skipped two grades thanks to her intelligence and had already graduated this year. Come fall, she'd be attending Vale University.
Which meant she'd be nearby. Watching over him, sort of.
His mother hadn't been thrilled about the idea of him moving, especially to attend Beacon. But somehow, Jade had managed to change her mind.
For that, Jaune could only sing her praises.
His dad gave him a warm smile and reached over to pat his back.
"You'll do just fine, kiddo." He let his hand rest there a moment longer. "I believe in you."
Jaune nodded. "Yeah… thanks. I just can't help feeling nervous. New faces, teachers... new everything, really."
"You've done harder things."
"Like what?"
His dad grinned. "Like surviving eighth grade with braces and a growth spurt. That was a dark time."
Jaune scoffed but a hint of a burgeoning smile stitched itself on his face, and something in his chest loosened.
After breakfast, his dad grabbed his briefcase and keys, tossing a glance at the hallway mirror.
"You ready?"
Jaune slung his backpack over one shoulder and shrugged. "As I'll ever be."
They stepped out onto the porch together. The neighborhood was still quiet. The sky hung overcast, a thin layer of clouds muting the morning light. It felt like the kind of day that didn't want to make too much noise.
As they walked toward the car, Jaune glanced back at the house.
Something about it felt distant and Jaune wondered if he'll ever come to enjoy this new home of his.
Maybe it was just that odd dream that was still disturbing him, clinging to the edge of his thoughts.
He shook it off and got in.
Time for school.
The drive itself didn't take too long.
They left the neighborhood behind within minutes and cut through the morning calm as easy as one might slice through butter.
Jaune watched as the city slowly stirred awake.
The skyline grew taller as they approached the city center. Concrete gave way to glass and small stores to office towers. Overhead, a silver bullet train sped its way across an elevated track, blurring past in a streak of motion and speed that vastly outpaced the cars below it.
Jaune watched it disappear behind a cluster of buildings.
They chatted for a bit along the way, his father offering tips on how to make friends and influence people—yes, just like that one book.
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the edge of the education district, where traffic signs turned sleeker and the sidewalks looking like they'd been power-washed that morning.
Ahead, Beacon Academy stood in all of its glory.
It didn't look like a typical high-school.
Polished black and white stone framed every structure. Smooth glass facades caught the light and scattered it. Wide, tree-lined walkways cut across open courtyards and tall towers rose from the campus as if belonging in a museum or corporate headquarters. The architecture was certainly a wonder to behold.
The main entrance itself, was impossible to miss.
A pair of massive black gates stood open, flanked by steel columns inset with glowing blue lights. The school's emblem hovered above them in a digital projection, overhanging steadily in the overcast light. Beyond the gates, students moved between buildings, their figures small against the backdrop of Beacon's modern sprawl.
The car rolled to a stop at the drop-off zone and Jaune opened the door before his dad could say anything else.
"Thanks," he said.
His father smiled and gave him a nod.
"Remember to head to the office to get your schedule first. The councilor should get you settled in."
Jaune nodded, closed the car door and waved as his father sped away, joining the incoming traffic to head to his work.
He stood still for a moment.
The gates loomed ahead, people walking inside.
Adjusting his grip on the strap of his bag, Jaune took a deep breath, and started forward. The moment his shoes touched the campus path, Jaune couldn't help but smile.
Perhaps this would be a fun day, after all.