Chapter 4. A Girl in Both Arms, And I'm Still Miserable
[A week later.]
| Jaune Arc POV |
There are very few things in this world, or the last one, that I genuinely, deeply loathe.
Mahito was one. The higher-ups' old geezers of Jujutsu were another.
And right now, ranking firmly at number three on that list, was the blaring, high-pitched screech of a Scroll alarm clock going off at 5:45 in the morning.
Ever since I had made the catastrophic error of simply nodding to acknowledge Pyrrha's polite offer to join her and Nora on their 'light morning exercises' a week ago, my life had become hell on earth.
Lie Ren—that treacherous, backstabbing bastard of a ninja—had wisely rejected the offer on day one.
He had bowed slightly, his face a perfect mask of serene tranquility, and claimed he had his 'own specific meditative morning routine' that required solitude. He had sold them a lie wrapped in Zen philosophy, and those two bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Meanwhile, I, lacking an excuse that wouldn't make me look suspicious to the girl who had unlocked my Aura, was roped into it.
Which is why, every single goddamn day for the past week, I was forced awake before the sun even shined, dragged out to the freezing, courtyards of Beacon Academy to join them for a 'light jog' followed by 'light sparring.'
Damn it all. I've already graduated from school once. Why the fuck am I being dragged awake at 6 AM again like some fresh-faced Jujutsu Tech freshies? I should be allowed to wake up at 8 AM bare minimum. No, 10 AM. I've earned the right to sleep in. Gods above.
Waking up at the crack of dawn to be sweaty, breathless, and covered in bruises in the company of two teenage girls wearing tight sports bras and athletic shorts just isn't what you'd hope for in a guy's fantasy.
Don't get me wrong. Any regular, hormone-addled teenage boy would probably view this as hitting the absolute jackpot. Getting to roll around on the grass with a famous gladiator champion and an energetic redhead? They'd be bragging about it to anyone who would listen.
But such things are merely delusions created by accursed teenage hormones, and sadly for me, my life has never been a fan-service harem anime.
Sweaty clothes aren't sexy, just because their sport bras and pants cling to their bodies while they're trying to beat you up doesn't stop them from being girls trying to beat you up... Also being covered by sweats, both theirs and mine, just feels gross.
So yeah, this was not the dream situation most teenage guy think it was, this is an assassination attempt disguised as a workout.
Nora Valkyrie is far, far too hyperactive in the morning. The girl clearly doesn't possess a functional 'off' switch, treating a 6 AM jog like it's a sprint to the finish line of the Olympics. Her boundless energy just makes me utterly miserable, sapping my own stamina just by being close to her.
And Pyrrha? Pyrrha Nikos, the girl who presents herself to the world as this polite, apologetic, Canadian-levels of nice sweetheart?
Yeah, that's a total facade. Underneath the 'I'm sorry' exterior is an annoyingly competitive battle-junkie. When we move from jogging to our 'morning spars', her eyes sharpen. She gets this terrifyingly happy smile on her face right before she tries to sweep your legs out from under you with enough force to shatter concrete.
Curse you, Ren, I grumbled internally, my lungs burning as the crisp morning air bit into my throat. If I am suffering this torment, you should be suffering right alongside me, you pink-streaked coward. I'm dragging your ass out of bed tomorrow morning, no matter what it takes. If I have to drag you out by your ankles while you sleep, I'll do it. That's what being on a single team means. Shared suffering.
Whoosh—!
My lamentation was violently interrupted by the sharp whistle of displaced air.
Duck.
My instincts flared. I snapped my head back, arching my spine just in time to barely dodge the heel of Pyrrha's foot as it whipped through the space where my neck had been a fraction of a second prior.
She was aiming for a decapitating high kick. In a light spar.
"Good reflexes, Jaune!" Pyrrha praised cheerfully, completely ignoring the fact she had just tried to remove my head from my shoulders.
I didn't have time to grumble a reply.
Nora was charging from behind. I didn't need to look. I could hear the impacts of her sneakers tearing up the grass. She was ready to tackle my spine the second I dodged backward away from Pyrrha's kick. It was a classic pincer maneuver. Hammer and anvil.
Damn it... I complained bitterly to myself. When I used to daydream about retiring with a cute girl on each arm, this was not what I meant!
I didn't retreat.
As Pyrrha's leg carried through its arc, leaving her momentarily balanced on one foot, I shifted my center of gravity entirely. Instead of stepping back into Nora's waiting tackle, I pivoted sharply on my left heel, ducking low under Pyrrha's recovering leg, and lunged backward.
Not away from Nora. Into her.
I slammed my shoulder backward, reinforcing my collarbone with a concentrated burst of Cursed Energy.
Smack!
I shoulder-checked Nora squarely right in her face just as she was leaning in for the grapple. The impact stopped her dead in her tracks, her head snapping back with a startled grunt.
Without missing a beat, I used her momentarily stunned, rigid body as a springboard. I planted my right boot directly onto her knee, pushed off her torso, and vaulted backward, launching myself into a tight, backward aerial roll.
As I flipped over her, I shoved both of my hands firmly into Nora's back, using my momentum to push her stumbling forward, directly into the path of Pyrrha, who was just resetting her stance.
I landed in a crouch five feet away, waiting for the crash.
But, of course, Pyrrha is an irritatingly good fighter.
She didn't collide with her teammate. Pyrrha merely sidestepped, grabbing Nora's flailing arm and using Aikido principles to smoothly redirect Nora's momentum, spinning the smaller girl around until they were both standing side-by-side, glaring playfully back at me. Nora wasn't even winded.
"Ooh, sneaky, Jaune-Jaune!" Nora giggled, wiping a smudge of dirt off her cheek. "Using me as a bull to hit Pyrrha? Ten points for creativity!"
And then, without warning, the two of them charged at me again in perfect synchronization.
Being double-teamed by two teenage girls has never felt more miserable.
Fuck, I cursed as I brought my guard up. This was like fighting those bitches, Mei Mei and Yuki all over again.
The parallel was terrifyingly accurate. Nora possessed the straightforward overwhelmingly force of Yuki —every strike designed to shatter defenses through sheer power and speed. Pyrrha, meanwhile, had the tactical, lethal, razor-sharp precision of Mei Mei—analyzing every twitch of my movement to find the optimal angle of execution.
They closed the distance in less than two seconds. Pyrrha lunged low, aiming a sweeping kick at my ankles, while Nora vaulted into the air, aiming a descending elbow drop at my collarbone.
I didn't have a weapon. This was purely hand-to-hand.
I channeled Cursed Energy down into my legs. I leaped upward, tucking my knees to my chest to completely clear Pyrrha's sweeping leg, placing me directly in the trajectory of Nora's assault.
As Nora brought her elbow down, I spun my body entirely in mid-air, torquing my hips to execute a brutal, spinning horizontal kick.
My shin collided with Nora's descending arm, the force halting her drop, while my follow-through rotation carried my other leg directly toward Pyrrha's raised guard. The horizontal spin kick struck them both in rapid succession, knocking them back a single, sliding step.
Using the momentum from striking their guards, I launched myself to the side, landing on the balls of my feet. I didn't let up the pressure. I immediately burst forward, closing the gap before they could recover their footing.
I aimed a vicious, downward axe-kick straight at the space between Pyrrha's collar and shoulder, intended to break her guard entirely.
But they were fast. Insanely fast.
Pyrrha dodged backward, twisting her torso just enough that my heel grazed the air millimeters from her shoulder. Nora, recovering instantly, dove forward, her arms wrapping around my waist as she tried to use her lower center of gravity to pin me straight to the grass.
I barely escaped. I drove my palms into the ground as I fell, using the momentum of her tackle to initiate a backward roll, flipping head-over-heels across the damp lawn until I was back on my feet.
But it wasn't enough.
I had underestimated Nora's sheer, bullish tenacity. She didn't let the missed grapple stop her. She followed through on her dive, rolling into a sprint, and tackled me dead in the center of my chest before I could fully right my posture.
"Gah—fuck," I choked out as the air was violently pushed out of my lungs. The girl hit like a speeding truck.
I stumbled backward, my boots sliding across the slick grass, Nora's arms locked around my midsection. I saw Pyrrha closing in rapidly from the periphery of my vision, her leg already chambering for a devastating, spinning roundhouse kick aimed directly at my neck.
If that connected, even with my Curse Reinforcement or Aura, it would rattle my brain against my skull.
I didn't have time to break Nora's grapple. So, I improvised.
I grabbed the back of Nora's sports bra and the waistband of her shorts, dug my heels into the earth, and forcefully twisted my entire upper body. I swung Nora completely around, using my own body weight as a fulcrum.
I hauled Nora directly into the path of Pyrrha's incoming leg.
I used the hammer girl as a human meat shield.
Pyrrha's eyes widened in horror. With terrifying bodily control, she forcefully aborted the kick mid-swing, altering her trajectory to avoid kicking her teammate in the face. She stumbled, falling awkwardly onto the grass in an undignified heap.
"Pyrrha!" Nora whined indignantly, instantly letting go of my waist as she realized what I had done. "He used me as a shield! That's against the rules!"
"There are no rules in a fight, Brat," I wheezed, taking a couple of hard, ragged breaths.
I rested my hands on my knees, staring down at the grass as I took a few deep breaths. My muscles ached. My lungs burned.
The only good thing about this absolute torture session was that it was providing me with an excellent cover to train my control.
This body was still a weak, untrained noodle. But fighting these two prodigies every morning was forcing the muscle to tear and rebuild at an accelerated rate. More importantly, it was giving me the perfect situation to practice both my Aura and my Curse.
Getting my ass kicked by two teenage girls every morning was humiliating.
But it was slowly allowing me reach back to my old level again. One exhausting morning at a time.
| Pyrrha Nikos POV |
Today's morning spar was as wonderful as always!
Pyrrha hummed a cheerful, upbeat tune to herself as she dried her vibrant crimson hair with a towel in the Beacon locker rooms. The hot water of the showers had washed away the sweat and grime of the early morning workout, leaving her feeling refreshed, energized, and optimistic about the day ahead.
She opened her locker, pulling out her immaculately polished bronze armor and beginning the familiar, comforting routine of strapping it over her combat corset.
Having their leader fight against both of them simultaneously had been an absolute stroke of genius on Jaune's part. When he had first silently agreed to their morning routines, Pyrrha had assumed she would be doing light katas with him to help him learn the basics of footwork.
But Jaune didn't do katas. Jaune didn't do forms.
On the very first day, he had simply stepped onto the grass, motioned for both her and Nora to attack him at once, and unleashed a completely unorthodox, unique style of survival combat that she had never encountered in any Mistrali tournament.
It was thrilling!
Fighting him 2-on-1 had really, greatly improved her and Nora's coordination as a vanguard unit. They were learning how to read each other's tells, how to cover each other's blind spots, and how to execute synchronized tactics.
But more than anything, it showcased just how truly amazing Jaune Arc was.
Pyrrha secured her sash, a fond smile blooming on her lips.
To keep up with the both of them—a regional champion and an incredibly unpredictable, powerhouse brawler like Nora—was a testament to his raw combat genius. He was always one step ahead, utilizing their own momentum against them, analyzing their strikes with those mesmerizing gold eyes, and turning the environment itself into a weapon.
Like today, using Nora as a shield to completely neutralize her high kick! It was ruthless, tactical, and brilliantly outside-the-box thinking. He never played by the conventional rules of tournament fighting. He fought to win.
Of course, she and Nora always managed to pin him or exhaust him in the end.
They never really let him win, after all.
He had only just unlocked his Aura over a week ago. His physical stamina was still catching up to his tactical mind.
It made Pyrrha's heart swell with pride. They were building a bond forged in sweat, bruised elbows, and mutual respect. This is exactly what she had wanted when she came to Beacon. Real partners. Real friends who didn't hold back.
Today is our first Combat Class with Professor Goodwitch, Pyrrha thought, her eyes sparkling with competitive determination as she grabbed her shield, Akouo, and her spear, Miló.
She slammed her locker shut.
In the morning spars, she focused on teamwork. She focused on holding back just enough to keep the exercise productive for Jaune.
But in a sanctioned, 1-on-1 arena duel? Under the watchful eye of a prestigious instructor?
That was her domain. That was where she truly shined.
She slung her shield onto her back, her footsteps light and purposeful as she exited the locker room and made her way toward the main combat amphitheater.
In today's combat class, she promised herself, her grip tightening on her spear, I'm going to go all out. I'm going to show him exactly why I was the champion.
I'm going to make my Fearless Leader proud.
The amphitheater was massive, a state-of-the-art sparring arena bathed in harsh, bright stadium lighting. The tiered seats were already filling up with the chattering, eager first-year students, the energy in the room buzzing with a mix of anxiety and excitement.
At the center of the ring stood Professor Glynda Goodwitch. She was a stern, uncompromising woman wielding a riding crop like a conductor's baton, her piercing gaze evaluating every student who walked through the double doors.
Pyrrha scanned the stands as she walked down the aisles, quickly spotting her team.
Nora was waving frantically from the middle rows, nearly spilling a concealed cup of coffee onto Ren, who was attempting to read a textbook while systematically dodging her flailing elbows.
And sitting beside them, leaning heavily back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, was Jaune. He was wearing his black hoodie and standard armor plates, his posture exuding that familiar, relaxed apathy. He wasn't talking. He was just watching the arena floor with those half-lidded, intense golden eyes.
Pyrrha felt a flutter in her stomach. She offered a bright, confident wave.
Jaune blinked at her. He didn't wave back. He just gave her a single, almost imperceptible nod of his chin, his expression remaining completely stoic.
To anyone else, it might have seemed dismissive or cold.
But to Pyrrha, it felt like an acknowledgment from her team leader. It was validating.
She took her seat next to Nora just as Professor Goodwitch tapped her riding crop sharply against the edge of her holopad. The sharp crack echoed through the speakers, instantly silencing the chaotic chatter of the freshmen.
"Welcome to Combat Classes," Goodwitch announced, her voice projecting clearly across the vast room. "Here, you will learn that fighting Grimm is a necessity, but fighting your fellow Huntsmen is an art. You will be graded on your Aura management, your tactical adaptability, and your ability to exploit your opponent's weaknesses while minimizing your own."
She swiped a finger across her tablet. The massive holographic screens hovering above the arena illuminated, displaying a randomized roulette of student names.
"For our first exhibition match of the semester, we will require two volunteers. Who wishes to test their mettle?"
Without a single second of hesitation, Pyrrha raised her hand high into the air.
Goodwitch's eyes flicked toward her. A faint glimmer of recognition, and perhaps anticipation, crossed the strict professor's face. "Miss Nikos. Excellent. Please, step down to the arena."
Pyrrha stood, unhooking Akouo and Miló smoothly as she walked down the tiered steps. She could hear the whispers starting to ripple through the student body.
Isn't that the girl from the cereal box?
The Mistral Champion. She's fighting first?
Whoever gets matched with her is going to get slaughtered.
She ignored the murmurs. She stepped onto the pristine white tiles of the combat ring, taking her position on the designated starting mark. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering her breathing, letting the familiar, comforting feeling of her spear warm the tips of her fingers.
"And who shall be her opponent?" Goodwitch asked, looking out over the crowd.
"I'll take her!"
A loud, brash voice boomed from the upper stands.
A massive, broad-shouldered boy swaggered down the stairs. He was wearing heavy, intimidating silver armor over a dark undersuit, carrying an absolutely massive, two-handed mace that looked heavy enough to crack a concrete pillar in half. He had slicked-back auburn hair and an arrogant, completely unearned smirk plastered across his face.
Cardin Winchester. Team CRDL's leader.
He stepped into the ring opposite Pyrrha, slamming the head of his mace onto the tiles with a heavy thud, clearly attempting to physically intimidate her through sheer size.
"The Invincible Girl, huh?" Cardin sneered, rolling his thick shoulders. "Let's see if that title holds up against real steel, sweetheart."
Pyrrha didn't react to the taunt. Her expression remained politely blank.
She glanced up at the stands. Her eyes found Team JNPR.
Jaune hadn't shifted his posture. He was still leaning back, his arms crossed. But he was looking directly at Cardin. Pyrrha could see the subtle narrowing of his gold eyes, the way his head tilted just a fraction of an inch as he internally dissected the boy in the ring.
What do you see, Jaune? Pyrrha wondered.
If Jaune were down here, he wouldn't engage in banter. He wouldn't trade heavy blows with a man twice his size. He would analyze the weaknesses of that armor. He would note the heavy, over-committed swing that a mace that size required. He would exploit the slow recovery time.
He would be ruthless.
"Combatants," Goodwitch commanded, bringing her riding crop down. "Begin!"
Cardin roared, charging forward like a raging Ursa. He hoisted the massive mace over his head with both hands, committing every ounce of his momentum into a devastating, downward crush aimed directly at the center of Pyrrha's skull. It was a brutal, unskilled, pure brute force designed to overwhelm a smaller opponent's guard.
Pyrrha didn't raise her shield.
She channeled Jaune. Sidestep. Redirect. Exploit.
At the very last possible millisecond, Pyrrha pivoted on her right heel, blurring entirely out of the mace's trajectory.
CRASH!
Cardin's mace slammed into the arena floor, shattering the white tiles and sending a shockwave of dust into the air. The sheer weight of his own missed strike dragged his upper body forward, leaving his entire left flank completely exposed.
He didn't have time to recover.
Pyrrha didn't attack with her usual overhead slash that she would use in the arena for the crowds watching. Instead, she opted for a ruthless attack her leader would be proud of.
She drove the brass-reinforced boss of her shield directly into the joint of Cardin's arm, dislocating his posture. As he yelled in shock, stumbling sideways from the impact, Pyrrha seamlessly shifted Miló into its rifle configuration.
She didn't step back to aim. She stepped in.
She jammed the barrel of the rifle directly into the gap of Cardin's stomach armor, right against his solar plexus.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three point-blank dust rounds discharged directly into his Aura shield.
Cardin's eyes bugged out of his skull as the force punched all the air out of his lungs. He was lifted an inch off his feet, tumbling backward like a felled tree, his mace clattering uselessly to the floor.
He hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, completely incapacitated in less than three seconds. The holographic display above the arena chimed loudly. Cardin's Aura bar had plummeted from green to a flashing, critical red instantly.
"Match concluded!" Goodwitch announced, clearly surprised by the sheer speed of the execution. "Winner: Miss Nikos."
The arena was completely silent for a heartbeat, and then it erupted into thunderous, awe-struck applause.
Pyrrha didn't look at Cardin as he groaned on the floor. She expertly shifted Miló back to its sword form and sheathed it behind her shield, standing perfectly straight.
She turned her head, looking up into the stands, searching for one specific face.
Jaune was looking down at her. He hadn't uncrossed his arms. But the bored, apathetic expression had lifted slightly.
He was looking at her, and the very corner of his mouth was twitched upward into a small smirk.
Pyrrha felt a rush of absolute, soaring victory flood her chest, her heart fluttering wildly against her ribs. The roar of the crowd faded away.
I made him proud, she thought, a bright, genuine smile illuminating her face.