Plot bunney. Champion.

Pyrrha wasn't the only champion to enter beacon

He only had a moment to make the decision. Should he stay put and wait for a counter? Or go on the offensive? He bounced on his back foot and leaned forward. His left arm stood limp in front of him. It was numb and hard to lift. He kept his right hand close to his face and his chin tucked into his shoulder. Hopefully, he could shield himself from an attack to the face, but he wasn't hoping for much. His opponent had reach.

He wiped his mouth and swallowed some blood. The bastard had gotten him good with a right hook. His opponent was a bit more injured. His face was turning purple. His arms were spotted black and blue.

He took careful steps to the left, circling his prey.

There was nothing but him and his prey here. In the pit. Between the chains. The lights shining down on them. The sand beneath their feet. The blood staining the ground. The roar of the crowds were silent against their breaths. Only thing that mattered were the two in the ring.
"Come on champ finish him!" Someone jeered in the crowd.

He didn't respond. He never responded. Never talked to anyone here except for the judge, dealer, and his opponent. He was just here to fight. He didn't care about the bets. But, he was getting sore and a bit tired. He locked eyes with his opponent.

There was a light in the other man's eyes. It wasn't a fire. It wasn't a desperate look.

It was resignation. The man had finally lost the will to fight.

Then the champion would oblige him.

He charged forward. The man swung wildly with his left. The champion switched his right foot forward and shoved forward. The arm slapped his back, but didn't throw the champion off balance. The champion finished with a right hook into the man's face.

The opponent tumbled to the ground and skidded across. His body slammed to the ground in a clatter and was still.

The champion waited for a moment. He waited for another moment. Finally, the champion raised a single fist in the air.

The pit opened and he could now hear the roar. The roar of victory poured down on him.

He lowered his arm slowly and walked towards the exit. He moved out of the way of the doctors. They wore ripped shirts and jeans. Volunteers for arena.

He walked out of the pit and into the stone corridors. The cheers died down slowly. The roar died down slowly. He felt himself die down.

His breath became heavy. His legs shook. He leaned against the wall. His hands pressed harshly against the stone and held him up. He took one step. He tried to take another. His knees buckled and he fell forward.

He braced himself for the pain.

Instead, a strong grip held his forearm.

"Easy kid."

A chill ran through his spine. No one was supposed to see him like this. No one was supposed to know that he felt the pain. He turned quickly and froze.

"Oh, it's you." The champion whispered. He let himself relax.

A soft, wrinkly hand pulled him back up. Another hand ran through wispy white hair. Blue eyes ran over the champion's injuries. "Come on, let's go to the medical tent."

The champion shook his head. "No. It's-"

"You're coming." The old man dragged him.

The champion let him. He was too weak to fight him off.

They went into the medical room. The champion hated it. The smell of alcohol, the beeps, the cold steel always grated his nerves. The old man dragged him to a stool and sat him down.

"Now sit down and make sure you don't cause any trouble. I'll grab some drinks for you." The old man growled.

The champion nodded. He sighed. There was no use arguing with him.

A voice called out to him. "You pack a damn right hook."

The champion jumped in his seat. He forgotten he wasn't alone. He looked over and smiled sheepishly. "Your punches weren't bad either, Ernie."

Ernie, his opponent, was laying on the bed. His arms were bandaged and he had an ice pack over his forehead. "Well, you did a number on me, J"

J chuckled and scooted his seat forward. He was at the edge of Ernie's bed. "You made my arm all numb." J waved to his arm. "Your jabs hurt a hell of a lot."

Ernie laughed. "Oh come on, you let me get those shots in. I saw you dodge Ricardo's punches. And I know I'm slower than him. You're too nice kid."

J was about to continue, when a voice interrupted them. "Boys. Great fight out there."

A man in a dark suit walked in. His sleek hair seemed to drip with oil. His grin was wise and yellow. He had two envelopes in his hands, one large and one small.

Ernie grimaced. "Adrian."

Adrian nodded. "Good try, Ernie." He tossed the small envelope on the bed without ceremony.

Adrian turned his sly grin to J. "My boy. You made me a lot of money. I had been hyping Ernie up for a while now. So, for them to all bet against you to just see you fall. My, it was quite the raking." Adrian waved the fat envelope like a prize. "I added a couple bills extra on top. Commission of course." Adrian handed the envelope to J.

J took it and held it close. He nodded his thanks, but didn't say anything. He hated Adrian. The man reminded him a thief, even if the man always paid out.

Adrian winked. "Don't be like that J. Trust me. If we get you upgraded and start doing two on ones, we could-"

"Leave it be, Adrian." The old man walked in. He carried a couple drinks in his arms. "The kid's tired."

Adrian huffed and walked away. Adrian never argued against the old man. No one did. They were all scared of him. Or at least respected him. Everyone knew about the old man.

Adrian shook his head and waved at the old man. He turned back to J. "Well just think about it J. Money is money." Adrian turned and sauntered away. The old man glared at his back before turning back to J.

"Here's some water." The old man pressed the cold water into J's hands. J took it and drank it gratefully.

Ernie sighed as rubbed his neck. "Well, looks like I'm eating cup of noodles for the month."

J paused. Hunger. J knew that. He reached into his envelope and slid out some bills. A wrinkly hand stopped him. J looked into blue eyes. The old man shook his head. "Charity is weak hearted. We don't live in a world where weakness doesn't get you killed."

J stuffed the envelope into his pocket and turned away. The tried to contain the pit of fire in his gut.

"Don't be too hard on him, Jaune." Ernie interrupted.

Jaune turned to Ernie. "He needs to learn." Jaune growled out.

Ernie shrugged and winked at J. "Thanks for trying kid. But, Jaune's right. Charity will only get you killed."

Jaune nodded at Ernie and placed a hand on J's shoulder. "Come on kid." Jaune held up a first aid kit. "I'm borrowing a first aid kit from here."

J nodded slowly and stood up.

Jaune stuffed a black hoodie on J's head. J begrudgingly put it on. He was growing out of the small sweater. Being a teen meant he was growing a lot, even if he was seventeen. J followed Jaune out of the arena and into the alley. The backstreets of Vale were not well travelled.

"You've got one more fight." Jaune said.

J nodded. They had talked about this a lot. One more fight and Jaune wanted J to go professional. That's why Adrian had been desperate to keep J. In the two years J had been fighting, he had won every fight. Didn't matter how old they were. Didn't matter how big they were. Didn't matter how skilled they were. J beat them.

J looked up at the man who had raised him. His hair used to be grey and black. Now it was all white.

Jaune used to be a hunter.

Plot bunney involving J taking up the mantle of Jaune. And taking up his name.

Jaune would die a tragic death, leaving behind his shield and sword. J would take it and forge his way in. Ozpin would know but out of respect to the previous Jaune, let's the new 'Jaune' enter.

And whatever happens from there.