Hi! I had this idea brewing for a while. This story was inspired by Yui Sinon's Scattering Time and Space. Also thanks to my Chemistry teacher, who taught me nuclear chemistry, which helped me come up with this idea. Nuclear/aura fusion at its finest. Enjoy!
Sorry for the people who read this while there was weird code. Thanks to Grano Onis for pointing it out.
Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY. If I did, I would make a pokemon x rwby crossover, and make Lucario OP. Huh, that's a good idea...
A white blur streaked through the Grimmlands.
It was Ruby Rose.
Salem was gone. Slain by Ruby herself. No more schemes. No more underground wars. Beacon could be rebuilt. But...
Salem's last act was to infuse large amounts of negative power into the pools surrounding her castle. As a result, as Ruby dashed by, a large multitude of Grimm rose out of the dark pools. Furthermore, years into the future - centuries, even, Salem would return. This was Salem's last plan - finish off the last silver-eyed warrior, so there wouldn't be any left for her return centuries later. That was why Ruby had to survive. She was glad that she had visited the Grimmlands alone. There was no way anyone else could have escaped this final deathtrap.
The blur narrowed in shape. Fire blazed behind her. Ruby focused on the images of teams RWBY and JNPR - even Pyrrha, despite her death. Their smiling faces, waiting for her to come back.
The blur narrowed once more, becoming close to line-shaped, as shining streaks of silver followed. A blast of wind followed it, destroying the Grimm caught in the gust as the g-forces ripped them apart. A Geist appeared, possessive a large array of rocks, for just a second. As Ruby rushed by, the rocks scattered, the Geist gone. Pain bloomed over her entire body, before it rapidly disappeared.
With a boom, Ruby felt the world collapsed around her. She slowed down, surprised. When she did so, the world reappeared around her. It was different. It was a city - familiar, yet all the cities she'd been to had either fallen to the Grimm or had been severely damaged. Here though - this city was intact. Bustling. She tried to slow down, rushing down the streets as she bled off speed. She didn't decelerate fast enough, and for a split second, she saw a boy crossing the street right before her.
A familiar blonde figure with blue eyes, standing right in front of her.
Jaune Arc was going to Signal Academy.
He had to.
It was his last chance - all the other high-school level combat schools had rejected him. Signal was his only hope - the school accepted applications and gave results last, and he had to get in if he wanted to be the hero.
So if he had to get in, why was he sitting in front of his scroll, staring at a mostly blank page?
The truth was, he had nothing good.
The scroll read: "Notable Achievements, Activities, and Skills." Unfortunately, Jaune didn't have any - were cooking and sewing were necessary skills for Huntsmen? He leaned back in his wooden chair, letting his scroll lay flat on his desk. His bed was right next to him, so he stood up and laid down on it, staring at the white ceiling. No point in stressing out, he reasoned. It's already submitted.
Across the room from his desk was a bookshelf, and between the bookshelf and his desk was a window showing the paved road and the sinking sun - had he sat there for that long? And across the room from the window was his closet.
His parents had bought a large, two-story house in the urban section of Mistral, despite being rich and famous enough to afford a mansion. When Jaune's little (5th) sister, Lydia, had asked them why, they had said that they didn't want to flaunt their wealth.
Jaune's parents were overprotective. Although they told stories of how his great-grandfather fought in the war, and many other stories, they only taught him the basics of using a sword and shield. They always said, "With all the new technology, robots will replace Huntsmen! There's no need." and "It's a dangerous world out there. We don't want you to get hurt." Jaune, however, wasn't about to give up on his dream. After arguing for days, he had finally gotten them to give him a chance - if he could get accepted into a combat school, they would pay for the expenses. He would learn how to become a hero.
That was why Jaune found himself laying on his bed, stressing over his application to Signal. He was thankful for the silence in the house. Three of his sisters no longer lived in the house. Two were at their respective friends' houses, and the last two had gone out with his parents to go shopping.
With a groan, he stood. He stumbled for a bit. Ever since he had inexplicably collapsed after being hit by a white cloak with red on the inside in the middle of the street last week, he had been feeling off and had thought he heard whispering. His parents had rushed him to the hospital, but apparently, nothing had been wrong. His "Aura," whatever it was, had "unlocked" itself somehow. The doctors mentioned some strange anomalies, but Jaune had seemed healthy and was let off. He didn't feel fine though - he found himself gazing at Crocea Mors mounted in the living room more often, and sometimes, he would catch himself thinking about cookies and milk. The cloak had been given to him since no one claimed it. The staff had been about to throw it out, but Jaune stopped them. He didn't know why - some sort of feeling, attachment, that made throwing the cloak away an unfathomable idea.
Snatching his Pumpkin Pete hoodie from beside the cloak from the closet, and putting them on over his T-shirt, he quickly scribbled a note to his parents before leaving the house, double-checking the lock. Perhaps a walk would do him some good. Maybe check out the bookstore to see if there was anything good. With his mind set, Jaune went off.
He waved at a few former classmates. After all, if he succeeded in getting into Signal, he wouldn't be seeing them anytime soon. He crossed the street, and entered a single-floor building with a double-eaved roof (AN: Japanese-style roof) - the bookstore, "Stories and Fairy-tales: a Bookstore.
The store was rather small. Racks lined the perimeter, and a few more filled the space in the middle. The counter was behind one row of shelves, and behind that was presumably the storage area - it was walled off, so he wouldn't know! On the counter was a bell to call for assistance.
Jaune stepped over to the comics section, browsing for the latest issues of his favorite series, X-Ray and Vav. He stood, browsing, and eventually moved on to the magazine section, eyes settling on "Weapon Masters: Greatest of Them All." He must have stood there for a couple of minutes leafing through the magazine when he heard a scream.
Glancing out the window, he saw the shop across the street being robbed. A man in all black, wearing a tuxedo like he was going to a fancy party, smoked a pipe, yelled something about money. He pointed a small handgun at the shopkeeper, who was hurriedly putting all of the money in the cashier into a bag labeled "Dust Off" - the name of the store. Bystanders milled around. Jaune frowned. The thief would probably get away. Scenes like this were common in Mistral, with the amount of thieves and mercenaries around (see author's notes below). If you stood by and did nothing, you wouldn't get hurt. That was the way things went here. So much for being a hero.
Jaune spun around, convinced he heard someone. But to his surprise, no one stood there - just empty air.
'You can do it!'
"Stop that!" He tried to return to the magazine. Apparently, the whispering had evolved into a voice.
'Kick his butt!'
"Shut up!" he cried. The shopkeeper hurriedly appeared behind the counter, having heard him. "Anything you need help with, kid?"
"No," Jaune grumbled. He then sighed. "Sorry. Just stressed." He looked out the window. The shopkeeper followed his gaze.
"Ah. Zwart. Small thief. He robs stores in this area all the time and only does so when there aren't any cops nearby. I've been robbed by him more times than I can count. Heard that he's trying to catch the eye of one of the major gangs. Can only hope some Huntsman or Huntress gets to him first."
Jaune looked back at Zwart. He was upset that he couldn't stop Zwart, couldn't be the hero. He barely had any training, and he definitely would get his butt kicked if he went in and fought.
'Not with me here! You heard the old man. Zwart isn't connected to any large groups yet! He's just a small criminal! Go and kick his butt!'
Jaune stopped walking all of a sudden, finding himself already twisting the doorknob to go outside. He frowned. What? The voice could possess him?
'If you won't do it, then let me do it!'
"Stop that," he whispered. Then he thought for a moment. He had heard a voice inside his head. The shopkeeper didn't seem to notice it, still reading a magazine of some sort. If this was the case, maybe the voice was a manifestation of his subconscious or something?
'I'm not a manifestation of your subconscious! I'm a real person! And from the future! My name is Ruby Rose! And I'm telling you to stop Zwart from ruining that shop!"
Jaune opened the door. Nope.
'I stopped a robbery at the age of 15!'
Even if that actually happened, Jaune was 13. No way. He turned down the street to walk home.
'That shop may end up in enough debt that it'll have to close!'
Jaune kept walking. Still no.
'If you won't do it for the sake of doing the right thing, at least do it for the sake of every shopkeeper on this street!'
Jaune paused. He did like the shops on this street. He even knew some of the shopkeepers. And he had seen on television how in the past, some thieves had been taken down by teenagers. Once. Or Twice. He groaned and picked up a broken bottle off the side of the street, probably left by one of the many gangs.
When had he started caring?
Zwart smirked. Another day, another robbery. Some day, the Black Death would notice him. They'd ask him to join their ranks. He would follow his father's steps and becomes a master thief. He'd-
"-Stand there and get hit by a broken bottle?"
The bottle smashed into his face. His aura flared, preventing any actual injuries from occurring. He glared at the attacker, a young, 12- or 13-year old blonde boy. The boy gulped.
"Can I take that back?"
Zwart glared. "No."
Zwart raised his gun and fired, aiming at the boy's armed hand and his feet. He was a thief, after all, not a murderer. To his surprise, the boy dropped the glass and rolled backward, the bullets hitting nothing. The boy dodged behind a shelf, and Zwart's metal bullets ('cause Dust bullet would ignite all the dust around it) pierced it, shredding it into a bunch of splintered wood and long metal poles.
Jaune breathed heavily as the dust (with a lowercase d) filled the air. For whatever reason, he wasn't panicking. That and his unharmed condition had to be the only good things happening. A piece of metal landed on his side, and he picked it up. It was long, long enough to be a staff. Probably came from the ruined shelf. A piece of wood stuck out at the end of it, making it look kind of like Crescent Rose-
Jaune blinked, and the red-black scythe became a simple metal rod with wood at the end. Where had those thoughts come from?
"Come on out, little boy. We have a lot to discuss."
Jaune edged away from where he knew Zwart was. Taking care not to crush anything beneath his feet or make any sound, he crawled around, trying to get behind Zwart. There he was! Zwart stood in the middle of an aisle. Parts of the damaged shelf lay behind him. Jaune noted that one section was large enough to hide him, and was perfectly situated to ambush Zwart from. Unfortunately, if he ran to it, Zwart would see him, and the element of surprise would be lost. He gritted his teeth.
'Just do it'
In the heat of the moment, with adrenaline rushing through his body, he obeyed before realizing what he was doing. It was too late though. Zwart had seen him! He was coming - he could hear his footsteps, hear his breathing, hear-
Hear him stopping?
Zwart reached down, picking something off the floor. "What's this? A petal? I thought you were manlier than-"
'Now! Attack him now!'
Springing from his spot behind the ruined shelf, he swung his sorta-scythe downward. It smashed into Zwart's head as Zwart bent over, but once again, Zwart's aura protected him. Instead of being knocked out, Zwart found himself smashed to the floor, gun flying out of his hand. As Jaune lifted his scythe-thingy, Zwart rolled back. He spat out his pipe and a bit of blood, and Jaune watched as the mouthpiece shot out, forming a staff. Zwart twirled it.
"Alright boy. I'm gonna give you such a beating; your momma isn't gonna recognize you."
'Isn't he a ray of sunshine?'
"Shut up," Jaune said, both to the voice and to Zwart. He dashed forward, swinging his scythe down like it was natural - and to Jaune, it was. Zwart blocked the blow, both hands on his staff, so Jaune swung the scythe around, the back end shooting upward-
Right between Zwart's legs.
Zwart crumpled as Jaune followed up a series of bashes and hits, only stopping when he heard a fizzing sound. There were loud sirens outside, and a police officer rushed in, handgun out.
'Don't the police have fantastic timing?'
"Drop that weapon! Put your hands where we can see them!"
Jaune leaned back in his seat. He was in an interrogation room, and his interrogator had yet to arrive. Thus, he sat alone, with only a desk and another chair to keep him company.
And the voice that probably was a byproduct of his insanity.
'You're not insane!'
Don't all insane people tell themselves that?
In the middle of Jaune's mental conversation, the door opened. A man with short, gray hair walked in, wearing a white shirt, gray pants, and a gray jacket. His auburn eyes peered at Jaune.
"Well!" He cried, causing Jaune to jump in his seat. "Don't we have quite the lad here!"
'Don't be so tense! The guy can't hurt you without breaking the law.'
That doesn't help much!
"I saw the footage. Taking down a professional criminal with only what you could scavenge! Astounding!" He leaned over to Jaune, who was quickly becoming uncomfortable. "Where in the blazes were you taught to do that?!"
"Errr... I wasn't?" Jaune tentatively asked. He could feel the voice's disapproval.
'Really? Do you think he's going to believe that you took a criminal down with no training?'
"Amazing!" the man cried as he straightened his back. "You must be quite talented."
'I stand corrected.'
"Nevertheless, I must ask you a question. Who are you?"
"Um. Jaune. Jaune Arc."
"ARC!" his voice boomed, making Jaune jump again. "I knew your father, lad. A fine warrior! Why, I taught him myself! I see that your talent must have come from him!" Jaune merely chuckled.
"It's not common for people to stand up to the criminals here in Mistral. Even less common is when people actual succeed! So," He leaned forward once again. "Why did you do it?"
Jaune gulped. "Would you believe me if I said... a voice in my head told me to?"
The man nodded. "I see. Your parents raised you well. It is clear that you understand mankind's moral duties." He waved his hands around toward the end of his comment. Jaune got the feeling that their ideas of "voice in my head told me to help others" were different, but he'd rather not be labeled as insane (ignoring the voice saying 'You're not insane!'). "You have your heart in the right place. Do you know who I am?"
"NO?!" the man exclaimed. "I would have thought your parents would have talked about me!" Jaune cocked his head.
"Aunt Clara?" he could feel the voice snickering in his head. The man's mouth fell open before he regained control.
"I," he proclaimed, "am Professor Wolfsbane. The headmaster at Sanctum Academy." Jaune blinked.
Wolfsbane raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. "Not only do you display great combat prowess, you are quite a laugh!" He grinned at Jaune. "The Huntsmen forces could use a Huntsman like you. Have you applied to any of the combat schools?" Jaune shifted nervously in his seat.
"Yes? It's just," he fiddled with his fingers. "I got rejected by each of them. I applied to Signal, and haven't heard back since all of their enrollment and registration dates are the latest..." Wolfsbane nodded.
"Rejected? Never fear! Though I cannot accept you into Sanctum, seeing as our slots are all full, I shall put in a good word for you at Signal!" He patted Jaune on the back. "You did well, lad. I'll enjoy hearing your exploits. You're free to go." He walked out, and Jaune followed. On his way out, Wolfsbane paused at the front desk of the police station and began filling some forms out. Jaune stopped as well, but Wolfsbane waved him forward.
"Go on, lad! I believe your parents are here already! Shame that I shall be too busy to talk to them. I trust you will explain everything?" Jaune nodded, smiled, and stepped out the station, and into a parking lot. As soon as he did, he saw his father approach and hug him.
"You're back! What happened, son?" Jaune continued smiling.
"Dad? I think I'm gonna be accepted into Signal."
As a side note, Mistral is well known for the amount of mercenaries and thieves, as well as the size of the black market, according to the "World of Remnant."
Zwart means black in Dutch, hence following the color rule. I is smart. I definitely did not use Google Translate. jk :)
The idea of the story is that Ruby went back in time, but crashed into Jaune and is now a part of Jaune's soul/aura, sorta like Ozpin was inside Oscar.