Confusion
Jaune Arc was sure, absolutely sure ,that someone was fucking with him.
There was no other explanation.
All he ever wanted was to be a hero. Simple dream, right? Something noble, something grand. But no, life had other plans. One minute, he was just another dork with a sword and a dream. The next? He was on a cross-continental journey, tangled up in crazy nonsense beyond his pay grade. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he found out he was the Rusted Knight, lived an entire lifetime getting old, then got young again—somehow—and, to top it all off, ended up dealing with an immortal psychopath hellbent on wiping out all life in Remnant because of what might as well be a bad case of divorce!
Seriously. Someone had to be messing with him.
And now? Now he was back. Back at Beacon. Back in school.
Jaune took a deep breath, trying to think logically, to piece together what was happening. Maybe he had hit his head. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he had eaten something weird again. Traveling through time wasn’t exactly a new experience for him at this point, he’d been tossed around the concept enough times to just roll with it, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t plucked another stopwatch fruit, or eaten anything from the Everafter, or touched any suspicious relics in Vacuo.
So why was he here? Why was he staring at Ozpin, who was very much alive and in the middle of one of his classic cryptic-yet-inspirational speeches about the success of the Vytal Festival and the start of the new year? Why did Ruby look… younger? Happier? More innocent?
His eyes darted around the room. Weiss sat primly with that same haughty, aloof air she had back when they first met—before years of hardship had melted it away. Yang wasn’t glued to Blake’s side, which was weird, because Jaune was pretty sure that was just a permanent thing by now. Nora was bouncing in her seat, practically vibrating with uncontainable energy, and Ren was—as always—serene, unreadable, like nothing in the world could faze him.
And then there was Pyrrha.
His breath hitched. He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to look at her too long, unsure if his mind could handle it. Sorting out his feelings about Pyrrha had always been hard, but now? Seeing her alive, breathing, smiling, looking at him with those gentle, curious eyes? It was unbearable.
“Jaune?” Pyrrha’s voice was soft, concerned. “Are you okay?”
Jaune blinked, realizing he had been staring at her like a ghost had just walked into the room. Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
“You… you look different,” she continued, tilting her head slightly. “Did something happen during the semester break?”
Jaune opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to tell her that he had gone through an odyssey across the continent, fought for his life more times than he could count, lost people, lost her, got stranded in a literal fairytale, aged decades, became the Rusted Knight, young again, fought in Vacuo, and then somehow, somehow, landed right back here?
“I, uh…” he started, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Nora leaned in, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Ooooh, what happened? Was it something cool? Were there explosions?”
Jaune hesitated. “There were definitely explosions.”
Nora pumped a fist. “Nice.”
Ren, ever the voice of calm, studied him carefully. “Did you actually go through your secret 'training'? I thought that was another joke. But... was it serious?”
Jaune exhaled through his nose, crossed his arms, and stared at his team. The people he had fought beside, suffered beside, lost and mourned and tried desperately to protect, were all here. Whole. Untouched by the hell he had been through.
He felt the scream bubbling inside him, clawing its way up his throat. He didn’t know if he should laugh hysterically or break down crying. Instead, he did the only thing he could do.
He kept quiet and screamed internally.