So it is done

Jaune Arc has always liked heroes. How could Jaune not like them, when all boys dream of accomplishing great feats, imagining themselves in the shoes of great warriors, defenders of all against the Grimm. Rescuing princesses, being lauded with praises, being powerful, all are things that boys dream about.

Jaune practically grew up on stories of his heroic great-great-grandfather's accomplishments, and his family's achievements. And, of more recent legendary events, the rescue of Glenn, which took place fifteen years ago, when Jaune himself was only two years old. Growing up on these tales, Jaune had even demanded that his parents, at the earliest age he could even articulate the thought, five, to put him on a physical training course.

However, as it turned out a little later, listening to stories about heroic events of the past and participating in those events were two very different things. For example, listening to heroic stories, Jaune could only hurt himself if he fell out of bed in a burst of childish enthusiasm. In a physical training course? If Jaune didn't get two dozen kicks during that one, it only meant that he hadn't finished his warm-up.

Of course, no one planned to physically abuse a child of five that just decided to try his hand at physical activity with the distant aim of a dangerous physical job. Either as a Hunter, part of the military, or even just as a firefighter, all require physical conditioning. But, as even the most carefree of children's games could lead to a lot of injuries if the child was unprepared for those, what of actual physical conditioning?

And boy, was Jaune unprepared!

Having seven sisters, a mother, and a father whom Jaune only saw in those rare moments when he came home after his mission, Jaune had always been wrapped in seven layers of protection. Admiration for his heroic hunter father was also the reason for Jaune's admiration for heroes as a child, always having his head in the cloud, dreaming of becoming one himself. His sisters and mother were happy to coddle him, letting him play as the hero.

It was hardly any surprise that Jaune had never actually experienced any hardships, even the scant few fights he ever had were quickly doused by the presence of his older sisters. He hardly had the chance to internalize that sometimes, pain, injuries and even deliberate kicks were not just things he should always avoid, but a truth of life.

Especially when he wanted to be a hero.

But even realizing that wasn't enough if one wanted to be a Hero. You also had to outgrow your fear of pain, be willing to train to exhaustion, and definitely get rid of his favorite rabbit onesie. And he loved his blue onesie!

So Jaune's workout routine was a mess from the start. Head to thank his parents' genes when it turned out that Jaune had no problems physically. But not only did he develop at the same level as all the other children, but he grew up to be quite physically developed, albeit with a little awkwardness and clumsiness. He had a lot of perseverance, but as if to balance all the positives, he had almost no talent at all in fighting, no matter what training session he had.

That is to say, of course, Jaune could train and, strictly speaking, lift weights better than anyone his age, his physical conditioning is top-notch. Too bad, he could not fight to save his own life. He had even managed to lose to inanimate objects.

Jaune could take a hit, run marathons, and is surprisingly nimble, but try all he might, he could not put all that conditioning into use. Put a blunted sword in his hand and tell him to strike a target, and he would somehow manage to hurt himself. Either by falling face-first into the target due to a misjudged step, or he would somehow hit himself with his sword. He had somehow even done it even without a sword in hand!

Despite this, Jaune was nothing but dedicated, or obstinate if you were to take it negatively, he kept on taking class after class for a whole year before accepting the harsh truth of life. He was simply not suited to the hard life of a Hunter.

Of course, his mother always consoled Jaune, saying that the trainer just couldn't find an approach to Jaune. After all, physical prowess speaking, Jaune was fine, in fact he was generally superior to the rest of his age group.

But it was hard for Jaune to dismiss the unpleasant but still true, truth. Jaune Arc, who had spent his entire childhood admiring heroes, who had grown up on stories about the tales and legends of heroes… He just wasn't fit to be one of them.

Or was he?!

For, as has been said, Jaune Arc demonstrated at least one quality of a true hero, their perseverance. He, at least, has an abundance of that. And this in turn translated into the heroically persistent Jaune Arc, heroically trying every way to get closer to his ideal of a hero.

In case he wasn't being obvious, he was being sarcastic.

Trying boxing ended with Jaune Arc losing his first milk tooth when he forgot to wear his mouth guard, and he was on the wrong end of a vicious uppercut. Trying martial arts taught Jaune that the dance steps he had been familiar with since childhood thanks to his seven sisters, although they helped develop his flexibility and grace, bore little resemblance to the classical fighting techniques of the Mistralian fighting styles. And the Vacuan one. And even the Menagerie fighting styles.

All of his mother's timid attempts to convince Jaune that some equally heroic, but far less traumatic pursuits, photography and chess, for example, were not so bad options. Attempts that were shattered by Jaune's childlike directness and desire to be the most heroic hero the world had to offer. And so, Jaune began to look for other, unusual angles from which he could see his childhood dream of heroism in reality.

Rhythmic gymnastics, daydreams of the cool acrobatic pirouettes of comic book superheroes, ended with a broken arm as a result of a failed landing. Thoughts of a brilliant weapons engineer eventually turned into a thousand lien in damages that his parents would have to pay, fortunately Jaune's father earned well enough even for a Hunter. And when Jaune stammered about becoming a scientist and tried to join a chemistry club at the age of twelve. His mother, with a hysterical tone in her voice, simply forbade Jaune to go to a place where he was sure to cause an explosion, even if he was only trusted with water and paint.

So rather than a Hunter preparatory school, Jaune went to a regular high school. Through it, he was always in the middle of the pack scholastically, because stupid math couldn't help him become a real hero. At least his physical conditioning allowed him to somewhat excel in sports, at least in the sports where he doesn't have to throw or hit anything.

Jaune left High School at age seventeen, with only middling grades and barely any muscle to show off, hidden beneath his favorite stretchy Pumpkin Pete hoodie. A hoodie that is very cool, no matter what his sisters say about it!

But even after the string of failures, which could be called endless for Jaune, and the fact that he graduated from a very ordinary high school, could not extinguish the fire of heroism burning in his soul. Although it did do some damage to his self-confidence.

Much to his parents' dismay, Jaune still wanted to become a Hunter, but what they didn't know couldn't stop them, could it?

So after making a firm, courageous and responsible decision… And if he repeated it enough to himself he might start believing it, Jaune quietly took his great-great-grandfather's blade and travelled to Beacon with the goal of becoming a Hunter. To Beacon, as to be as far away from his family living in Mistral as possible.

And he had travelled to Vale with his family's permission, officially!

True, his family believed that Jaune was going to college, and that all Jaune's belongings, his clothes, and textbooks, were for trying to become a teacher. But Jaune wasn't really lying in that regard.

He would indeed try to become a teacher… After he became a Hunter. Hopefully after decades of service when he would retire, which coincidentally is also the length of time he hoped that his lie would hold.

In the meantime, Jaune himself would be happy to tell his mother about how his studies were going, tweaking his stories about Beacon a bit and substituting in 'Vale's First Teacher's Academy'. His mother was just being a worrywart, even if he actually said that he was going to Beacon – so what? It's just a school, they wouldn't be throwing him against the Grimm in his first class, would they?

Well, if Jaune finds that he really can't become a Hunter, he can just leave Beacon and actually become a teacher. All in all, there's no problem with his plan!

No problems, at all… Except for one.

As it turned out, the Hunter academy was extremely difficult to get into!

I mean, sure, Jaune suspected that his plan would encounter some difficulties along the way, but not at the very first turn! Jaune had never really thought about the steps between 'Jaune goes to Vale' and 'Jaune finishes Beacon', such an event had originally been taken for granted by Jaune. He just thought that, seeing as Beacon was a school for Hunters, Heroes by another name, and Jaune wanting to become a Hero himself with his decade and a half worth of effort, would allow him easy entrance to Beacon.

If all else failed, he was pretty sure that his grades weren't that bad?

As it turned out, his generally quite normal, albeit below average, results in math and physics exams meant nothing in the face of Beacon. After his investigation, that is, asking the first person he met in Vale about it, there were only three ways to enter the vaunted Hunter Academy.

The first was to transfer from another academy as a transfer – this way, for natural reasons, was not suitable for Jaune. The second was to take the entrance exam for admission to the Academy.

Even though he was more or less sure of his grasp of theoretical Math and Physics, that is, he theoretically has a grasp on those, the entrance exam for Beacon doesn't just include pen and paper exams.

No, he had to actually exhibit his fighting skill in an exhibition… Skills that not only he didn't have, he have effectively negative skills with his propensity to hurt himself.

There was only a third, last possible way for Jaune to enter Beacon – official papers testifying that Jaune had passed, with honors, from a Hunters' preparatory school…

And that was the path he chose. No, he didn't suddenly gain the ability to turn back time and enter himself into a Hunter preparatory School instead of his own High School, he simply decided to forge the required documents.

Of course, Jaune had originally wanted to go to Glenn, to be as close as possible to the closest thing the modern world has to a legendary real-life hero, King Osmond, the Headmaster of Glenn Academy. But, as it turned out, Glenn simply wouldn't accept any other Hunter Preparatory school than the one in Glenn as recommendation for admission. That didn't mean Jaune didn't try of course.

When Jaune was able to find a man who could forge, no, forge sounds too bad for a future hero, help with the documents. Yes, that sounds better. When he had found someone to help with his documents, he had asked him to help Jaune with a recommendation from Glenn's Hunter Preparatory School, he just laughed in Jaune's face.

Jaune's helper had said that it was easier for him to reverse the Atlas Revolution than to try to cheat the RATS off of a Glenn Preparatory School's recommendation.

So Jaune's settled for Beacon, and that was why he was in Vale. He had family in Mistral, Menagerie was just starting to build a Hunter Academy, and Atlas was barely starting to recover from the revolution, and for now, Jaune couldn't risk going there. At least not without getting his first few self-defense lessons at Beacon… And Vacuo was ignored as a matter of course.

So in the end, Jaune ended up in Vale, with his bought documents about his studies, and one that he completed with honors, at the Vacuo Preparatory School. They were the cheapest.

The fact that Jaune's heroic journey started in such a case with a forgery… That is, with the 'help' in the documents. Jaune preferred not to think too hard about it. When he becomes a Hunter, he would instantly arrest all of Vale's criminals, and maybe a certain helper first… But for now, he had to put up with some of their presence.

And so, finding himself in Vale, with documents in his name, confirming his completed studies at the preparatory school in Vacuo, Jaune Arc…

Was very nervous.

So much so that even before entering the Bullhead, Jaune already wanted to expel from his stomach everything he had mistakenly put in there this morning, even though he knew that he was going to be travelling in an airship! And why did only Beacon still haven't put a proper teleportation gate to it!?

So that was why Jaune was currently trying to move along the terminal, waiting for the Bullhead, trying to quiet both his thoughts and his stomach. Two steps forward, a U-turn on the spot, two steps back… Walking back and forth, Jaune tried his best to calm his panicked thoughts – which only resulted in him being dizzy after a few minutes, further aggravating his nausea.

Forcing himself to stop, Jaune bent down, prepared to spew out something extremely unflattering in full view of the rare visitors in the terminal at such an early morning hour.

"Man, are you all right?" A slightly gruffer and deeper, but still youthful voice addressed Jaune, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to turn Jaune around to make sure he didn't need help at the moment. A very bad decision, considering that the sudden movement made Jaune's self-control, already holding on by the last possible thread, give up completely. Without enough time to even make out the face of the concerned citizen, with a disgusting sound, Jaune emptied his entire stomach content… On the boots of the guy in front of him.

"Grimm shit!" The guy's previously concerned voice instantly changed to one of disgust, but at the moment, Jaune, although he wanted to apologize to the guy, could not do so, unable to hold back a second deluge of vomit.

"Fuck! Brothers, how can you do that?!"

Jaune could not answer, trying to hold back at least the last bits of contents remaining in his stomach, continuing to stand in a bent posture, not daring to move. Seeing Jaune unmoving form, the concerned citizen walked away quickly, leaving Jaune alone. Probably to wash off the vomit on his shoes, or better yet, change his clothes immediately. Being covered in vomit, would probably make a poor first impression in Beacon, or maybe not, Jaune really hoped that that was just the janitor or something.

However, even apologizing was out of Jaune' reach at the moment, busy as he was calming the storm of butterflies in his stomach with deep breaths. After a few minutes, Jaune was finally able to relax somewhat and stand upright, an apology on his lips… And a residue of saliva, bile, and many other disgusting leftover digested food. All Jaune could do was to wipe them off with the sleeve of his favorite hoodie. He hoped that he would find a washing machine or a laundromat as soon as possible before it all dried up and soaked into his hoodie.

Jaune didn't really want to, though, he had gotten the Pumpkin Pete Hoodie from a contest. He had to eat so many of the sweet cereal to even get the Limited Item Collectible!

At least the act that had happened, and not to be mentioned again, did provide some relief for Jaune, the nausea had almost completely receded from him at this point. But it was an extremely weak consolation. He had soiled himself in the most, well second, no third-most, disgusting way, the young guy, quite possibly his fellow student at Beacon, would probably remember Jaune irritably… Maybe even call him something mean like Vomit Boy or something.

Thankfully, before he had to potentially ruin his precious hoodie, a packet of wet wipe tissues was pressed into his hand, one that Jaune had reflexively grabbed… Perhaps next time he would look first before he grabbed something? This time he was lucky that it was something innocuous. What if next time it was a bomb or something!? Heroes have to deal with a surprising number of bombs in his comics, after all.

Contemplating about future terroristic acts being acted upon him aside, Jaune looked at the outstretched hand, meeting the unimpressed and judgmental gaze of a rather tall and muscular guy. Seeing a familiar boot, one that he had previously vomited on, Jaune could only lower his face, pulling a few sheets of tissue, his ears red from embarrassment.

After a few wipes, an uncomfortable silence soon descended on the platform, Jaune wringing the dirty tissue and the rest of the package of wet wipes, unsure of what he should do with it. Seeing that his wish of the earth swallowing him is not coming true anytime soon, Jaune silently hands back the pack of tissues, the tall guy silently putting it back… somewhere.

Trying to get rid of his embarrassment in any way he could, Jaune adopted a peppy, false, smile, trying to put a welcoming expression back on his face. "Thank you very much. I'm Jaune, Jaune Arc, roll off the tongue, ladies love it!"

"I've already seen what rolls off your tongue." The guy's voice was rather mirthless in response, unimpressed by Jaune's introduction. Thankfully, when Jaune could feel his panic rearing its ugly head back, and his stomach started flipping again, the guy just snorted, before introducing himself. "Cardin Winchester."

Embarrassed, Jaune lowered his gaze, before, a few seconds later, he heard Cardin's almost resigned sigh, "Fuck it. In the old days, I would have just punched you in the face, but I've been trying to rise above that lately. So… Are you going to Beacon?"

Jaune looked up to meet Cardin's flat, expectant gaze and, realizing a few seconds later that he had asked him a question, hurried to answer awkwardly, stumbling over his own words, "Y-yes, I'm in Beacon! I'm Jaune Arc!"

"Yes, I already know that…" Cardin sighed, causing Jaune another bout of embarrassment from his slip-up, once again returning to the previous silence, wringing the soiled wet wipes still in his hands. Before, after a few more seconds of awkward silence, Jaune heard Cardin's slightly gruff speak up again.

"Do you… Do you know anything about Beacon?" When he heard the unexpected question, Jaune looked up, looking at Cardin's face, who's expressing his reluctance to talk to Jaune… Or maybe it's just awkwardness? Maybe Cardin simply didn't know exactly how he should have started a dialogue, especially one that had started under such circumstances.

Jaune, likewise, has no idea on how to continue this conversation, however…

If Jaune possessed any heroic quality, it was a heroic amount of persistence. Besides, if he just pretended their first disastrous interaction didn't happen, he was actually doing quite well!

"No, I'm from Mistral," He said, overcoming the awkwardness of meeting Cardin for the first time. "Where are you from?"

"Well, ahem…" Following Jaune's example, Cardin tried to avoid the awkward topic of their first meeting and answer his question.

"My parents are from Glenn, but I've always lived in Vale…"

Seeing that their conversation had gotten off to a good start, Jaune smiled.

Like his mother used to say, 'strangers are friends you just haven't met yet'.

***

Tourism had always been an attractive, but unprofitable to the extreme, business in Remnant.

Who didn't want to make money solely from the natural beauty of their native habitat? Who didn't want to take advantage of those to swindle money out of tourists, leaving them with only memories of beautiful forests, sampled cuisine, and photos taken after hours of travelling, in case of Vacuo, through the desert?

Usually taken with an expression that reflected the pain of regret at the idea of visiting Vacuo despite the efforts of more reasonable friends to dissuade the madmen who went to the Kingdom.

But how could a business built on moving large groups of people through Remnant, on a regular schedule? Since such trips could only be afforded by people on holidays that lasted for a very short time, in a world where every road was riddled with Grimm and bandits? Even Bullhead tours couldn't last in such a business climate.

In view of this, despite all the lucrative profitability and even attractiveness to investors, Remnant's tourism business was in its infancy. Local small resorts, for residents of nearby towns, and the occasional hotel, living by travelling hunters and diplomatic missions… Until the introduction of mass teleportation, that is.

The portals virtually wiped out the entire issue of logistics, and led to an unprecedented boom in the tourist industry. What used to be a week-long combat operation requiring an armed convoy, and a tidy sum of Lien, turned into a ten-minute wait for one's turn in a small station room. And lo and behold, anyone wishing to travel was in another state.

As much as the logistic business side of the economy suffered, the tourism sector grew manifold times.

However, teleportation became a conduit not only to the world of tourism for the entire Remnant, many projects, theoretical ideas and concepts began to rise and flourish. Old ideas that had been shelved were put back on the table after the simple trouble that is the Grimm problem is solved.

Many ideas, however, began to be created literally from scratch.

Any resources within half an hour's reach? The rigid limits of geography for the creation of industrial clusters became a non-issue. What previously needed to be planned by entire committees and extensive planning between departments, was now as simple as simply highlighting where temporary storage were to be organized and where access was more convenient for moving trucks.

Jobs that are a thousand kilometers away from your home, now being as far away as a ten-minute walk? Sounds great for employers interested in getting an influx of fresh labor, now competing for a place below the sun with each other.

A thoroughfare accommodating hundreds of thousands of people from different countries and cities every day? It's about time the restaurant business started looking at the most favorable locations for their cafés, for the rush of people walking around, workers and simple tourists alike.

Not all the changes have been entirely positive for people, of course.

The creation of instant teleportation had caused the logistics business and travel industry to mostly collapse overnight. A sector that was once regarded as a titan of industry, from pilots of international flights, to manufacturers of bearings for motor vehicles, to collapse.

But on the whole, the technological development of teleportation has done far more good for Remnant than harm. So much so that when businesses, and the governments behind them, were finally able to calm down the hysteria. The states were able to use the prospects open to them not only to make money, but also to fulfil its social obligations.

At least in the form that they could fulfil them.

Exhuming bodies, accounting for the dead, and building memorials were not the things that the average Joe, enjoying the teleportation-enabled economy, preferred to think about. But they were certainly important and necessary things for a state wishing to show reverence for its history and the sacrifices of its citizens. While the more politically pragmatic, or just a cynic, would just call the act a vote-gathering event, it definitely was meaningful for the people wishing to remember those who were once familiar to them.

Remnant were strewn with bodies and graves, entire necropolises trampled by other explorers more successful than their predecessors, and many former settlements. Whether built out of idealism or the pragmatism of their creators, it had long since become overgrown and forgotten, so that even locating them was sometimes too difficult, even for trained explorers. And who would bother thinking of sending a huge expedition of laborers for the sake of such sentimentalism to the lands of the Grimm, to search for those who had long ago perished at the hands of monsters? Just the cost and logistics of it, never mind guaranteeing the safety of the laborers…

It's a vote-losing project, in other words.

But teleportation put an end to such cost-benefit analysis – or at least dulled those enough to attempt a reconnaissance of long abandoned and destroyed settlements. If not for sentimental purposes, then at least to gather valuables and re-explore abandoned places for re-development.

Nora Valkyrie wasn't particularly interested in these matters. To put it bluntly, she had little or no memory of her home, her family, which she surely had once had. That is, she remembered that she had lived on the street in the past, but where exactly?

Nora didn't remember that – and frankly, she didn't particularly want to remember.

As such, Nora had never sought to revisit the place where she had once lived, if you can call being a street urchin living, in the past. Especially after learning that the half-forgotten name, Kuroyuri, had long since been swept off the maps and buried beneath the sands of time.

The settlement had perished, what a tragedy, and now for the evening weather…

Kuroyuri was nothing unique and Nora barely even had any memories of that place, at least nothing more than some of the routine she was used to, back then. The streets, the rubbish, the petty thievery… How could she even have memories of that, especially at such a young age? They are memories that no one would bother remembering.

Though perhaps not all of them are forgotten. Still, Nora had one memory associated with the place. The day she'd caught Cinder Fall's eye, and escaped from the doomed settlement to Glenn.

That day had changed Nora Valkyrie's life, and certainly for the better, at least because she hadn't died with the doomed settlement of Kuroyuri that day. Though she couldn't say she remembered that day in any great detail. She remembered the pancakes, she remembered Neo, she remembered the change of clothes and the teleportation…

But other than that? If Nora strained her memory, vague images might have popped into her head. Some boys were laughing at her… Or were they girls? Most likely boys, though that part is not so important. Or maybe she was just confusing it with some other part of her memory? There was no lack of fights in that past of her, with both boys and girls. Well, maybe not so much, but the taunts and insults were definitely familiar to her.

Street rat, thief, tramp, dog, beggar… and she had many more of those.

The words stuck in Nora's mind, but she hadn't revisited them in a long time. Not since she'd been in Glenn. After all, who could even allow themselves to think of insulting the protégé of Princess Fall herself?

Nora almost snorted at remembering Cinder making sure that Nora, insisting more and more every day on the importance of a clarification – that Cinder was not related to His Majesty by blood.

Cinder's clear lust to her father figure aside, Nora didn't really have that clear of a memory of her past in Kuroyuri.

Was there someone else there in her life? If Nora thought about it and tried to remember, it seemed that when she was being abused by the boys, she had seen another child… But, what did it matter? She didn't know that child personally, she didn't remember his face at all, and therefore she could accept that he must have died long ago when Kuroyuri was destroyed. Accept that fact, and get on with the actually significant things.

Like preparing for her entrance into the Academy.

There was no way that Cinder Fall would allow her protégé to graduate from the Academy that is under His Majesty's auspices with less than full honors.