Jaune's Accidents:

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Cried Beowolf

It was yet another day at the playground and Jaune Arc was playing by himself. It wasn't like he had no friends, but all the kids he played hide and seek with were hiding too well. It was almost as if they ran to some other playground without him, but he knew they'd be back when they got bored of hiding.

He was too tired from looking around. He was never gonna find them. Lying in the sandlot and staring at the clouds, Jaune felt sad.

What if they'd never play with him again because of this? He liked his friends, even if they kept shoving sand down his pants or gave him a wedgie. It's not that different from home, his sisters did that all the time, he assumed it was some kind of familial love.

Sighing, six-year old Jaune stood up, looking around. Nobody was in sight, his sisters were doing something together and his parents were busy. It wasn't easy, being the youngest child. Most of the time, it was actually rather hard. He knew from other families that the youngest was often pampered, but his mother's work always kept her away from home.

Of course, in such a scene, lonely as he was, there was no wonder that an animal would approach him. Jaune smiled widely as a black dog approached slowly. It was kind of hunched over, and looked menacing, but ever so trustful, Jaune knew that lonely animals were drawn to lonely kids.

"Hi!" he greeted it. The dog growled. "Uh… do you wanna play?"

The dog growled again, and jumped towards him. Jaune tripped over the sand and the dog flew a bit too far overhead. Giggling, he grabbed a nearby stick and looked around.

"Let's play fetch," Jaune said. The dog growled again, jumping up and down, excitedly. The dog seemed very happy about playing with him, and that made Jaune happy too. The earlier loneliness completely forgotten. "Come on, catch!"

The dog jumped towards him, and Jaune hurled the stick forward, behind the dog. Unfortunately, the jumping dog and the stick collided, and rather than catching it with its fangs, the dog was struck in mid air, the stick embedded into its mouth and through its head.

Jaune stared in horror as the dog whimpered, falling onto the ground and unmoving.

"H-hey, are you okay?" he asked, rushing to the black dog's side. It was looking at him, hurt. Slowly, parts of its fur began to flake away into the wind. "Help! Someone help!"

He began crying, the dog vanishing within seconds, and his cries of help attracted the attention of adults not far from there. By the time they reached him, however, they found a sobbing mess of a child, holding a stick in his hands.

"What is it?" they asked.

"There was a black dog here," he said. "I tried to play fetch with it but it stopped moving and vanished!"

"A black dog?" someone asked. "A Grimm?"

"No, it was a dog!" Jaune said, stomping his foot. "Did… did I do something wrong?"

The adults didn't believe him. There was no dog, and if there was a Grimm, there was no way a six-year old could ever kill it.

When Jaune got home, red in the face, his sisters mocked him for it. When he tried to explain what happened, they didn't believe him either.

###

When Jaune was eight, he decided he would be a hero. Even though he cried often and failed, he wanted to work hard. His eldest sister became a Huntress, and he'd follow her steps. Rather than an actual weapon, however, he had a wooden sword, carved out of a long branch he found. It wasn't very heavy, but he could still swing it around to practice!

Because his parents didn't want him to swing it around in their home, and he didn't want his sisters to mock him any more, he went outside to the nearby forests. He knew that the adults warned the kids of Grimm attacks in the deeper parts, so he would only stay at the edge, and hit the sword against a tree.

Jaune, confident as ever, began to swing the sword. Every hit against the tree sent shockwaves of pain down his arms. He had to stop after five times.

He sighed. "This isn't gonna work out."

Jaune wasn't one to get down quickly. He worked hard! He knew he did! So what if his sisters made him cry every other day, that just meant he'd have to become stronger and show them! But... his hands hurt already.

It was very hard for Jaune to stay motivated long.

Sitting down and trying to rest, Jaune closed his eyes, leaning against the tree. He'd never become a hunter like this. He couldn't be a hero, his parents sisters didn't teach him anything even though they were all pretty good with all kinds of weapons, and his parents never had time for him. Deep inside he knew that his parents disapproved of the idea that he could ever become a hunter like their eldest.

The rustling of leaves made him open his eyes again. A large black claw was on the bark of the tree next to him, making him yelp in surprise and scramble backwards.

"Gah!" he shouted. "G-grimm!"

It was a Beowulf. Their appearance was similar to black wolves, though standing on two legs rather than four. Somehow, its appearance reminded Jaune of an old friend, but he couldn't quite place the image that appeared in his thoughts.

The sword still in hand, Jaune raised it with shaking arms.

"P-please don't eat me!" he shouted. This was it, he was done. Dead. He messed up, and it's all his own fault. He was a failure like no other. Jaune closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

The Beowulf lunged, and the sound of ripping flesh emanated through the edge of the forest. A weight settled on Jaune's sword.

When Jaune opened his eyes, realizing that he was still intact, he found his clothes a bit ripped, and the Grimm nowhere to be seen.

"W-what the hell?!" he asked. Scrambling to his feet, Jaune ran home, not wanting to sit around and wait for the Beowulf to appear again.

When he finally reached his house, and stepped in, his mother was standing in the kitchen, preparing food.

"Jaune!" she said. "What happened to your clothes?"

"A Beowulf attacked!" he said. "It was at the edge of the forest!"

"Don't be silly," she told him. "There is no way the Grimm would get this close, there's a guarded fence."

"But it's true-"

"No 'buts'," she said. "Go clean yourself up, you're grounded for lying to me."

Jaune's shoulders slumped. She wouldn't believe him. Of course, nobody ever believed him.

That was him. Jaune Arc. The failure and liar.

###

Jaune was twelve when his father told him about his grandfather's accomplishments. There was a war, a large war between Faunus and humans, and Jaune's grandfather was a war hero. A veteran who fought the onslaught of the enemy and came back home.

It did nothing to reignite the spark inside Jaune that he lost four years ago. But Jaune still practiced, not to become recognized, but to become strong, so that one day he could proudly say he accomplished something.

Unfortunately for him, over the years, every day of practice was met with some strange accident. It was like he was a beacon for Grimm, no matter where he went, and every time he was alone, a Beowulf attacked.

He was so useless, all he could do was attract Grimm. Every attack made that thought grow stronger. Every attack made him realize just how dangerous being near him was. There was no way he could ever become a hero like his grandfather. Jaune dodged out of the way like a coward, his clothes ripping but his flesh untouched, sometimes he managed to drive them off by wounding them. He really was useless. It didn't take very long for packs of Beowolves to come rather than just a single one.

And every time he got home, told his mother the truth, and was grounded for lying. A week later, it repeated, again and again. One time, she gave him a month, only for her to send him to buy groceries and be attacked on his way there. He was grounded for another month right afterwards.

The townspeople already called him the boy who cried beowulf. By the time he turned eleven, he stopped telling anyone, just resigned to tell his mother he fell down.

Swinging his makeshift sword at the tree, Jaune felt no pain his arms anymore. He supposed it was the apathy, the complete and utter lack of progression. Pain, he knew, showed that he was making progress, just like medicine had to be bitter to work.

The sword was battered and beaten, he would have to make another one soon. The rustling of leaves made Jaune sigh. He had to get away.

Turning around and not even checking what was behind him, Jaune ran.

When a tree was flying at his direction, he ducked reflexively, spinning around from his lowered position.

That wasn't a Beowulf. That was an Ursa.

He screamed loudly, his voice a high pitched screech. This was it! He was so going to die now! No way out!

When he tried to run away again, the Ursa leaped over him, blocking his way towards other people. It roared in his face.

Jaune roared back. It sounded like the mewling of a cat forced through bagpipes played by a man with only one lung.

The beast swiped at him, and he ducked. That was all he was good at. He wasn't a hero who could fight, all he could do was dodge and run. Running was out of the question, so swipe after swipe, Jaune ducked and jumped.

Yelping, Jaune tripped after landing on the Ursa's arm after a jump. Trying to catch his fall, he grabbed the first thing he could, spinning from it to land on his feet. That something was the Ursa's arm, and his spin sent the Ursa onto the ground when he accidentally threw it over his shoulder.

It actually made a pained noise. Using that moment of distraction, Jaune jumped over it, his feet smashing into its mask as he ran away.

Completely unaware of the fading Grimm behind him.

His mom was not gonna believe him anyway.

###

His parents refused him to send him to a training school. Without training school, he wouldn't have the documents to actually apply to a school for Hunters. Instead, they wanted to send him to a prep school, a place that would teach him the essentials do some normal job.

Meanwhile all his sisters had joined one school or the other for Hunters and Huntresses. Jaune was left behind.

He knew it was the stigma of being a liar. Even though he had stopped 'lying' to his mother 5 years ago, and the frequency of the Grimm attacks became even larger. At this point, Jaune stopped to care.

If his parents didn't trust him, he didn't have to trust them either. He kept his head down for a year and prepared.

It took him a while to fake the necessary documents he took out of his older sisters files. Taking his grandfather's sword and waiting for the mailman every morning, Jaune got nervous.

He was a liar already. So why was he so worried about lying here? All he wanted to do was learn how to be a hunter, and what better school was there than Beacon?

When the mailman came with a letter from Beacon, Jaune left.

###

Jaune didn't like airships. They made him sick.

That's why Jaune spent most of his time in the bathroom that was swaying back and forth.

Look at him. Again. He was weak, a weak someone with a weak stomach. All he did was throw up. How was he even supposed to defeat a Grimm and learn how to be a Hunter if he couldn't even stand inside an airship for a few minutes? He was the worst failure, he would definitely fail in Beacon, but at least he'd have tried.

A large explosion shook the airship. Everything turned upside down. Vomit started fly. Jaune's stomach turned even worse.

Crawling over the ceiling, Jaune managed to get out of the bathroom stall before the entire airship once again spun, this time by ninety degrees.

Jaune was falling, and there were windows under him.

"I'M GOING TO DIE!" he screeched. "I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to dieeeeeeeee-"

He took his weapon quickly, holding the shield under him as he smashed through the window and a large black something appeared under him.

Trying to hold onto it as he landed, Jaune was unaware of the hundreds of people staring through the window of the now upright airship, and almost slipped. Refusing to give up just yet, Jaune used his grandfather's sword and stabbed it into the black mass. Instead of holding onto it, the sword ripped through like tearing through cloth.

The airship lowered towards him and he shouted in joy, scrambling up the black mass and holding onto his sword, now ripping through the blackness into the other direction.

"Holy shit yes!" he shouted. Someone punched the window and reached their hand out to him. Jaune grasped it, getting pulled back into the airship as the black mass under him crashed. "Thank you!"

Reflexively, he hugged the person that dragged him back, who gave him an awkward pat on the back.

"No problem, now let go, your grip's too strong," she said. It was a girl, an attractive one at that, and Jaune grew red in the face. Unfortunately for him, the sudden excitement made him forget the lines he had practiced in front of a mirror to approach girls with. Fortunately, all that adrenaline also made him ignore the sway of the airship. Wind blew all over the interior due to the broken window. "That was impressive!"

"What was?" he asked. The blonde, long-haired girl was grinning at him, her fists under her chin.

"How you took out that Nevermore!" she shouted. The crowd around him made a noise of agreement.

"I did what?" he asked. Ah. He realized. Of course.

"You just cut through it, that was-"

Tears welled up in his eyes, though Jaune refused to cry in front of these strangers. "If you're just going to mock me, you could've just let me fall."

He turned around, walking away from the crowd. A young girl with black hair turned around, only having caught the last part of the conversation. "That was really mean, Yang. You shouldn't bully your classmates."

"B-but… he…"

"No. Go apologize."