Jaune Arc's Bizarre Adventure

Jaune Arc was a loser, a geek, a nobody. But that all changed one day when he discovered he had a strange and unusual ability. The Stand. A ghostly figure named after its role, "standing" by its user and granting them fabulous and strange abilities. The advent of Jaune's stand to many seemed like an accident, but to Jaune it was the beginning of a journey to become the hero he had always dreamed of being. A journey to attain Heaven.

Jaune Arc began that fateful day just like any other. He woke from bed, ate breakfast with his parents and seven sisters, and promptly left once the age old battle for the last plate of french toast began. Jaune had long since learned that his seven older sisters were unstoppable when presented with such a prize, and his mother and father would struggle in vain to halt end the epic battle that ensued each morning.

Jaune chuckled to himself, as he strolled through the streets of his hometown. It was somewhere between the bustling metropolis of Vale, and the rural island of Patch. Small houses and cottages gave way to tall buildings and shops as he walked, his black hood raised and blue jeans wrinkled. Jaune's beaten up Chuck Taylor's plodding against the ground with their familiar sound. He pondered whether or not to hit the arcade, or go to the ice cream parlor off Third and Main, only to have these thoughts interrupted as he bumped into someone and fell flat on his back.

Jaune winced and cracked an eye open as he raised a hand and nervously greeted, "Hey, sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and-"

He was promptly silenced as the much taller and more imposing boy glared at him and barked, "Watch where the hell you're going runt!"

Jaune winced once more at the boy's words as he stood and backed up, attempting to calm the agitated boy down, "Again, I'm really sorry, I'll just leave-"

Jaune was interrupted as the boy's fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling. After recovering from the blow he looked up and noticed just what the boy was wearing. An obviously expensive tailored suit, although disheveled and boasting a large stain from what appeared to be coffee. "Sorry isn't going to clean my suit. And you definitely can't afford to fix it dressed like you are."

Jaune pushed himself to his feet, it was a little uncalled for, but he wasn't exactly equipped to beat a guy this size when he couldn't even beat his twin Jean in a fight. He frantically searched around for an escape route, or for someone who might intervene. Everyone walking by seemed determined to either watch, or not be involved at any level. The boy was cracking his knuckles and approaching, Jaune closed his eyes and rushed forward, blindly throwing what he hoped was a decent punch.

The scraggly blonde was surprised to see the stained suit clad boy sprawled across the ground upon opening his eyes. The older boy appeared to be bleeding, and for a brief moment as Jaune glanced at his fist, a ghostly pale fist floated above his own before disappearing. Jaune glanced from his hand to the boy's now misshapen jaw as the people around him snapped pictures, a few on their phones calling for a doctor. Jaune looked around and scratched the back of his head as he sighed and pulled out his phone. "What a pain."

His parents were going to kill him.

Julius Arc was unsure of what to do. He was seated at the head of the dinner table of his small home with his wife and six of his seven daughters facing his son. Jaune had apparently broken a young man's jaw after bumping into him and engaging in the world's shortest street fight. He sighed as he looked at each of his daughters.

The eldest daughter Joanne was seated next to his wife, Susan, with the second eldest, Josephine who was fiddling with her cell phone. Joanne seemed to be occupied consoling his wife, who couldn't seem to stop crying about her baby boy being assaulted on the street. Josephine was absolutely no help in this endeavor. The third daughter, Joy, sat with her chair turned around backwards, half asleep as she draped her arms over it, half lidded eyes staring at Jaune. His fourth daughter, Juno, was busy brushing her hair using a compact mirror, the girl's face constantly changed expressions as she did so. His fifth daughter Giovanna stared at her brother, her gaze soft but focused, as if trying to discern what had happened with sight alone. Jolyne on the other hand was grinning and asking her younger brother how the fight had gone, his sixth daughter had always been a troublemaker like Joy before her. Finally, his seventh daughter and Jaune's twin Jean was seated next to him, attempting to act as moral support for her twin. Said twin apparently found his feet to be the most interesting objects in the world, as his eyes had not wavered from them since they had picked him up from the street corner.

Julius folded his hands in front of his face and asked one simple question, "Did you throw the first punch?"

Jaune shook his head in response, and continued to stare at his plate. He heard the sound of his father's chair dragging across the floor as the man rose from it. Jaune screwed his eyes shut and prepared for the tirade his father had shouted at Joy and Jolyne before him as he listened to the man's footsteps. Only to look up in surprise after his father's hand gently ruffled his hair.

The bearded blond man gave his son a wry smile as he said, "Just don't go looking for a chance for a repeat performance slugger."

"No problem!" His son eagerly replied as his father exited the room, ignoring the indignant shouts of Joy and Jolyne about favoritism. Julius chuckled calmly as he sat in the living room, leaving his wife to deal with the chaos of the seven sisters pouncing on their brother at once with a barrage of questions, comments and concerns.

Jaune lay alone in his room desperately trying to recall the events of earlier. He had managed to escape the clutches of his siblings and find solace in his room thanks to Jean's interference. Normally, he would go to her to talk about the ghostly hand he saw, but she was otherwise occupied keeping his other siblings at bay. The scrawny blonde teenager rolled onto his side and stared at the blank wall on his side of the room. His otherwise sparse decorations laying on his nightstand and closet door in comparison to his twin who had elected to place as many decorations as possible on her side.

Jaune sighed as he looked at his hand again. The ghostly hand he had seen, it was almost like there was another person standing with him. Jaune closed his eyes and tried to picture the arm once again. Pale white. Well defined muscle. Jaune struggled to recall any other details as he stared at his open hand above his face, arm stretched toward the ceiling. He sighed in annoyance as he closed his eyes and fist, "Man, what a pain."

Upon opening his eyes he saw the same ghostly hand outstretched next to his own, as well as a long arm trailing down to his own shoulder, where a yellow clad figure lay next to him half defined. Jaune rolled off of his bed in surprise and frantically searched only to see that the figure had disappeared before he could get a clear look at it. He definitely wasn't imagining this though. Jaune rolled over his bed, landing on the rug in between his bed and his sister's bed before pacing on the coiled piece of decoration. Jaune's mind raced. He had concentrated, closed his fist, and there it was.

Jaune had seen little of the figure it had produced. Although he had a new color to remember it by, yellow. Jaune had always liked yellow. That much was obvious by the boy's collection of yellow and orange t-shirts. Jaune tried to walk himself through the steps again. Close eyes? Check. Outstretched arm? Check. Close fist? Check. Open eyes? Che- once again the the ghostly arm was mirroring his position. Jaune took a shaky breath and said, "O-okay. Show yourself."

The figure obliged him, floating around the boy before coming to a stop in front of him. Jaune's jaw dropped, his arm hanging limply by his side as he stared. The figure floated a foot of the ground, it's legs slightly bent with the right leg in front of the left. It's arms were crossed and it stared at the boy.

The figure was thin, like him, but well muscled, clad in a yellow robe, with what appeared to be twin crescent moons in white on its chest, the white of its limbs bearing a series of interlocking circles with grey, like chainmail. It's head was a smooth white, with barely perceptible features barring it's glowing yellow eyes visible, a set of wings were attached to its ankles. It reminded Jaune of the images of a crusader in a painting he saw as a child.

Jaune closed his mouth and stared back at the figure. Before turning and reaching for his phone. The figure sped around of him, and grasped the object, prompting a surprised gasp from Jaune. The figure held the phone in front of him, Jaune hesitantly reached out and grasped the phone. The figure crossing it's arms once more. Jaune fumbled with the device, and eventually sat down and placed the phone next to him, opting to play music rather than search for advice on hallucinations and surprisingly helpful floating men.

The mouthless crusader stared at Jaune, and the boy sighed. He decided that if the hallucinations were this bad, he might as well try and learn as much as he could. "Did you punch that guy earlier?"

The figure nodded, it's eyes betraying nothing. Jaune sighed once more. Great. It couldn't talk. "Do you have a name?"

The crusader shook it's head, and Jaune nodded in response. "Why did you hit him?"

The crusader then pointed to Jaune, and then to himself. Jaune had no clue what to make of this gesture. The figure seemed to have some will of its own, but also tried to help him. Wait. The figure had reached for his phone when Jaune wanted it. It had punched the boy when Jaune had tried to punch him. Jaune's eyes widened in realization as he asked, "You're helping me."

The crusader nodded once again. Jaune smiled as he gave a small fist pump of victory, which the figure observed and then tried to mimic. Jaune laughed at the attempt before speaking, "Well, I'm Jaune."

The crusader hastily nodded as though confirming it knew this already. It then knelt before him, before rising again. Jaune cocked his head to the side and then asked, "Wait. Do you serve me?"

The crusader hesitantly nodded. Jaune pinched his nose in confusion before plopping onto his bed as his phone changed songs. Jaune bobbed his head as he relaxed once more the crusader floating around him. Jaune hummed along to the melody, noting that the figure appeared to be moving in time with the music. Jaune chuckled and asked, "Do you like this song?"

The crusader gave him a quizzical look, but did nots stop. Jaune chuckled once again, "It's called How Far is Heaven." The crusader nodded once more, as if appeased by this. Jaune then asked, "How about that for your name?"

The crusader shrugged in response. Jaune chuckled in response. "Alright I can deal with that. Now...what are you?"

Jaune looked around his room and noticed his guitar, resting on its stand. He then recalled how it felt like this thing was standing next to him earlier. Standing. Stand. A stand. The term popped into his mind, and as if knowing his thoughts the crusader nodded. Jaune asked, "A stand?"

It nodded. And thus began Jaune's life as a stand user.

So yeah. This happened. I chalk it up to being a closet JoJo's fan and not really finding an outlet for it. I'm going to write Jaune a little differently in this, as I feel like Cannon Jaune isn't a good fit for this narrative. This is an AU, and it is based on JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, so expect modern day society, but with people in strange clothes posing while things explode around them. I will be peppering this story with little references to RWBY and JoJo's so expect for there to be some familiar faces and some things that you wouldn't see in RWBY. Finally shipping. It may or may not happen.