Chapter Text
Out in the Forever fall, RWBY and the remaining JNPR were still looking for their friend, and their leader. Deep within the forest the first thing Ren noticed was the silence.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Not that it was quiet, Forever Fall never truly was, but there was a pause in the natural rhythm. The rustling leaves had stilled. The distant calls of Grimm seemed absent, as if the forest itself were waiting. Even the wind had softened, barely moving the tall trees.
Ren raised a hand. “Stop.”
Ruby skidded to a halt, Crescent Rose swinging slightly at her side. “What? Did you feel something Ren?” she asked, her voice sharp, tinged with worry.
Ren’s eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows between the trees. “Yes,” Ren said slowly. “But I don’t understand it.”
Yang cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing unnaturally in the stillness. “Great. This is exactly what I needed right now, spooky forest vibes.”
Ahead, ten meters through the underbrush, something moved or didn’t. Half-hidden beneath a scattering of broken branches and fallen leaves lay Jaune Arc. Armor scratched, sword still clutched in his right hand. He lay on his back, chest rising and falling slowly, unnaturally, almost fragile in contrast to the strength they knew he possessed.
Pyrrha’s reaction was INSTANT. She was on the ground before anyone could blink, kneeling beside him. “Jaune?” Her voice cracked, carried more desperation than fear. “Can you hear me? Jaune, please...”
She pressed two fingers to his neck. A pulse. Weak, but there. As she breathed a shallow sigh.
“His Aura...” Pyrrha’s voice trembled. “I can’t feel it.”
Weiss stepped closer, focusing intently, her usual composure fraying. “Maybe it’s just... depleted? He’s been fighting.”
“No,” Pyrrha whispered, almost to herself. “This isn’t just depletion. Something... happened. He’s lost all of it.”
Ren knelt beside them, his eyes narrowing, studying the air around Jaune. “There’s... something...” he said slowly, voice low, “like standing near a storm that’s already passed. And the aftermath lingers.”
Ruby swallowed, her grip tightening on Crescent Rose. “Clinic. Now!”
As they lifted him, something impossible happened. The Grimm they had killed earlier, Beowolves, Ursa remnants, began to collapse. Not dissolve, not fade. They crumbled, as if the force animating them had evaporated into the air.
“Uh... guys?” Yang’s voice was hesitant, a rare falter in her bravado.
No one answered. All attention was fixed on Jaune, who still didn’t stir.
<line break>
Inside the Beacon clinic, the machines didn’t like him, it reacted as though it had no idea how to handle him. The heart monitor flickered erratically. Aura sensors returned nothing, not a baseline, not a recovery curve, nothing.
The doctor rubbed her temple. “It’s like trying to measure something that isn’t there. But how... how is that possible?”
Before she could speculate further, a soft, deliberate sound echoed in the room. Ozpin appeared, cane tapping lightly on the floor. He didn’t announce himself; he never did.
“Hmmm... how is he?” Ozpin’s voice was calm, measured. He studied Jaune as though he were a complex equation rather than the boy they all knew.
“Breathing is stable,” the doctor said. “No internal bleeding. No neurological damage I can detect.”
“And his Aura?” Ozpin asked, tilting his head.
The doctor hesitated. “Dormant. Or.... absent.”
Ozpin hummed softly. “I see...”
Pyrrha stood rigid near the wall, hands clenched so tightly her knuckles went white. “This is my fault,” she whispered. “I should’ve noticed sooner. He’s always pushing himself...” Her voice broke. “...to his limits.”
Ozpin turned to her, calm but firm. “Miss Nikos. You are a skilled warrior, a student, and his partner. But you are not omniscient. You could not have known this would happen.”
The words should have comforted her, but they only added weight.
Hours passed. The machines hummed and clicked, yet Jaune remained unconscious. Ruby tried to occupy herself, pacing the room, occasionally muttering to herself or talking to him as if he could hear. “Come on, Jaune. Wake up. You can’t leave us like this. Not now.”
Yang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I swear, if you pull something stupid like this again, I-” she stopped mid-threat, unsure who it was directed at, Jaune, the world, or herself.
Weiss’s expression was calm, almost detached, but her eyes betrayed worry. Analyzing the monitors, trying to find some clue that could explain the inexplicable.
Ren stayed quiet, ever watchful. He glanced at the room, the monitors, the faint disturbances in the air around Jaune, and shivered slightly. There’s something here... something wrong. Not Grimm, not human... something else.
Pyrrha never left Jaune’s side. She sat on the floor, her head bowed, whispering quietly, telling him about the day he had missed, about their friends, about classes. Sometimes she spoke of herself, too, admitting small fears and regrets, anything to fill the silence.
Every so often, Jaune twitched. His fingers moved slightly, as if reacting to the words, to the presence of those he trusted most. But he remained asleep.
<line break>
By evening, the tension in the room thickened. The faint hum of the machines, the occasional shuffle of feet, the soft murmurs of the girls, and Ren’s quiet assessment created a strange, almost sacred stillness.
Ruby finally sank into a chair, Crescent Rose laid carefully beside her. “He’s going to wake up, right? He has to wake up.”
Yang glanced at her, the edge of her usual grin softened. “He will. He’s stubborn as hell. But... damn, this is something.”
Weiss as she flip a page on book she was reading. “something and not necessarily good.”
Pyrrha exhaled slowly. “I will stay until he opens his eyes. I’ll... be here.”
Ozpin returned briefly to check the monitors, giving the team a nod before leaving again. “Patience,” he said softly. “He’s not gone. Not yet.”
The room settled into silence again, but it was no ordinary silence. It carried weight, expectation, and something unspoken, the feeling that whatever Jaune had brought back with him was not just a loss of Aura, but a presence that was alive even in sleep.
Even the doctor, watching the monitors, frowned. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she muttered. “It’s as if he’s... holding something inside that doesn’t exist here.”
Pyrrha leaned closer to Jaune, pressing a hand to his chest. “You’re not alone,” she whispered. “We’re here. We’re not leaving you.”
And still, Jaune did not wake.
But somewhere deep, something inside him shifted.