The sooner somebody invented helicopters, the better.

Flying. The bane of my youth. Ever since the first time I'd put a bullhead out of commission for a week, I had always believed that the best place for my feet was on the ground. Then things had changed, I'd been forced to reconsider my positions, and in the end, flying in itself wasn't all that bad. No, if anything needed to be kept on the ground all the time, it was the bullheads.

Alas, nobody had seen the need to improve something so obviously broken, which was why I was stuck in one of those hulking steel deathtraps. Who knew that using condensed explosions to power aircraft would result in an unstable ride? By all accounts the wind and weather were perfect for flying, but with every flick of the engine or rudder, the entire thing jerked and juddered like a weasel on fire. Helicopters certainly weren't perfect, but the tail rotor did help a lot, and kerosene took more than a sneeze to spontaneously ignite.

Another light breeze brushed against the bullhead, and the pilot overcompensated. The aircraft dropped a good foot before restabilising, sending a few passengers sprawling, and a wave of bile up my throat. I held it back, though. Here I was, ready to be a protector of humanity, a light against the relentless tides of darkness, a third standard inspirational quote that I'd never bothered to remember, et cetera, ad nauseam. The point was, projectile vomiting was not particularly heroic. I was obliged to set an example, and spewing breakfast everywhere was not a good way of doing that.

Also, I didn't want to leave a 'negative impression', so to speak, on anyone that I'd have to spend the next four years with.

Also also, Lindow would never let me live it down.

After far too many more dips and rolls, the bullhead finally pulled into dock. Already, eager students huddled round the exit, ready to be the first ones to see a glimpse of their future. I wasn't among them. I already had a good idea of my future, and lingering nausea plus a scrum of people didn't seem an ideal mix. As the first students streamed out, I took a moment to check my belongings again. Wallet, scroll, toiletries, change of clothes, distinct lack of hard-to-transport weapon, and far too many types of pill, all accounted for. Everything was set.

Barring the pilot, I was the last person off the bullhead, and so the last one to see Beacon for the first time. It was just as it was in the pictures: gleaming spires, rolling promenades, verdant gardens, all combining for a sense of tranquil wonder. It was every child's dream; it had certainly been mine. And now I was here, the culmination of so many years of work, and it was totally underwhelming.

Beacon trained Huntsmen. Huntsmen killed Grimm. Grimm were Monsters. Monsters were what I'd been killing day in, day out, for the past two-and-a-half years. Sure, I still understood why I was here in the first place – Grimm weren't Aragami, and learning the greater intricacies could be the difference between life and death – but that didn't change how the wonder was lost. It didn't feel like a dream come true, but just another part of the job.

I sighed. The job. Yes, it wasn't one I was particularly eager to jump into, nor did I have the people I wanted at my back (Alisa was up in Atlas, Kota was still back on actual Earth, and Lindow alone knew how he was getting on), but it was my job. I knew how important Cradle was, and I was a professional. I'd see it through. Besides, what had my mother always said? Strangers were friends you just hadn't met yet? Something like that, anyway. Idealistic, but not inherently wrong, and having more friends and/or allies of convenience could only prove helpful in the long run.

Speaking of strangers, the landing area was about as empty as the bullhead, save for a girl lying flat on the ground, with two others walking away. I couldn't make out too much at a distance – black hair, black dress, black boots, red cape – but her posture suggested crestfallen, though not injured. It was as good a time as any to start on the whole 'friendship' thing.

I strode over to her (on the shorter side up close), met her eyes (bright silver, of all colours), and reached out a hand. "Hey. I'm Jaune."

The girl looked away for a moment, before taking my hand and pulling herself up. "Ruby."

…

How did friendship work again?

I quickly thought back to my time at Fenrir. Meet some strangers, get assigned on a mission together, shoot and stab some Aragami, save each other's lives a couple of times, get back to base, get blackout drunk together. Repeat until you implicitly have each other's backs. Great! All I needed was a constant supply of life-or-death situations, and a copious supply of alcohol.

It was then that I noticed Ruby was looking at me slightly awkwardly, and that I'd stood in blank silence for a good ten seconds. I said the first thing that came into my head. "Hey, Ruby. I'm Jaune."

Needless to say, I realised how stupid I sounded before the words left my mouth, but it was too late. Thankfully, my involuntary wince of regret came before Ruby fully processed my words, so the resulting awkward laugh was less nervous and more empathetic.

"Alright, please pretend I didn't say that," I corrected myself. "As sad as it may sound, it's been a while since I met anyone new."

"Don't worry," Ruby replied. "I'm not that great around new people either."

Her demeanour made it obvious, but I didn't say it out loud. "Don't worry about it. What was with those two girls earlier?"

I asked this not because of explicit curiosity, but because I had little better in the way of conversation topics. It quickly became apparent that I had not made the best choice, as it was Ruby's turn to wince. "Oh, nothing," she replied, a little too defensively. So something, clearly, but pressing would just serve to alienate her.

"Okay," I said, in the most hopefully-placating tone I could manage. "Just wanted to make sure it was nothing serious. I don't usually find girls sprawled over the floor, that's for sure."

"That? I just tripped. That's all." Ruby was a not a good liar, even for the whitest of lies, but again, this wasn't exactly important enough an issue to force.

"Glad you're alright, then." That would be the end of that unfruitful conversation branch, so I took a moment to check the surroundings. Everyone else had gone out of sight, those two girls earlier included. The bullhead had left again, as well. I expressed as much: "Do you know where everyone else went?"

Ruby quickly looked around as well, and came to the same conclusion as I did. "I think there's a welcoming speech in the auditorium?" she supplied. It sounded feasible, at least.

"Right. I guess we should be getting there as well." With a nod from Ruby, I started down the main path. While I didn't know the exact way, there weren't really any other paths to take.

…

The awkward silence returned.

In truth, I'd been waiting for Ruby to boot up the next topic, mostly because whatever I suggested would likely peter out into the same damp tameness as before. However, given that damp tameness, Ruby probably felt anything she started would end up the same as well. Honestly, it probably would, but awkward conversation was better than awkward silence, right?

Another dozen steps down the main path, I felt obliged to talk again. The standard 'how are you, etc.' starters would just result in the same lukewarm response, so I needed something that at least one of us could talk about. Obviously I had no idea about her interests, but even if it was like talking at a wall, at least she could get to know me better?

So I needed something I was sufficiently qualified to talk interestingly about. I knew Aragami, but that was completely out. I knew beer well, and a dozen other varieties of booze less so, but Ruby didn't look like a drinker. I knew… weapons, sort of? I mean, I knew how to use my weapon, and the basics of maintaining it, but the finer points had always been left to Licca. Still, I could sound mostly intelligent when talking about it, and hopefully Ruby and I could both meaningfully contribute, so I threw it out there for the sake of it.

"So, given that we're both Hunters in training, I imagine we've both got some interesting pieces of kit. What sort of weaponry do you have?"

As soon as 'weapon' left my mouth, Ruby's eyes lit up like a pair of full moons. One of her hands almost reflexively jagged behind her, but she reigned it in a little. "Well…" she slowly began. "I've got this."

With a sort of shy eagerness, she pulled out a small red mechanical thing and pressed a button. Clearly it was collapsible for easy storage, but just how collapsible still took a moment to process. With a huge amount of clicks and whirs, it proceeded to unfold again and again into a positively monstrous scythe, the blade about as long as she was tall, with the haft half again as long.

I had to whistle in appreciation. I'd tried to use a scythe once, in my early days of training, and it had rapidly turned into a horror show, only with real blood instead of fake. Given she was choosing to use something so impractical and self-endangering, she had to be more skilled than she looked. "Nice. I take it you're a melee specialist, then?"

"Nope." With a few twirls, she changed her grip so the bottom of the haft was pointed in the air, and gave a bolt on the side a solid tug. A reassuring ka-chink sound echoed in response. "Crescent Rose here is also a sniper rifle."

Huh. That had been unexpected, but why had it been unexpected? My own weapon could transform between a BFS and a BFG with a twist of the wrist, so why did Ruby's weapon seem less feasible? It took me a few more moments of thought, before I remembered the earlier compactness. "A sniper rifle? That seems sweet, but I can't imagine that keeping the barrel straight and calibrated is easy with all the moving parts you have."

It was a natural question, one out of interest, but it ignited something in Ruby. A look passed across her face. I recognised it. I had seen it many times before, right before Licca began one of her half-hour diatribes on the advantages of weapon maintenance strategy B over strategy Alpha-and-a-Half. While I didn't let my expression change, I internally braced for the fountains of technical jargon, ready to torrent over my head.

"Funny you should mention that," Ruby began. "I didn't think of that initially, so of course I was surprised when all my shots were going off target, but once I realised it was an easy fix. Well, not easy, because there were so many little things to do, but the idea was just to G-Link the flanges and then –"

That was the point I zoned out, though I did remember to nod along occasionally. Ruby, a weapon nut. Not something I'd expected from her appearance, but there was no way to deny her passion as she discussed her choice of screw heads. Sure, I'd have to make sure she'd never meet Licca, not unless I wanted to unleash some sort of monster upon the world, but still, seeing her so bright and vibrant? It felt like the first step to some sort of friendship.

Now, where in any hell was the auditorium?

Pancakes.

Somewhere in my mind, I remembered the concept of pancakes. Like wisps in the wind, I remembered waking up to that tantalising scent, before heading down to find those heavenly heaps, always so light and fluffy, never greasy, and drenched in warm, sweet, delicious syrup. What I didn't actually remember was the taste itself. With resources already stretched thin, the Den had never been able to afford such luxuries. Breakfast for me had always been bread, soup, or (on the bad days) bread soup.

Now, though, I had the opportunity to refresh those memories. Early mornings had been drilled into me, so I was one of the first to turn up in the dining hall. There they were. A veritable mountain, freely available for any who wished. Warmed to the perfect temperature, rivers of syrup and molten butter cascading down like waterfalls, and oozing that beautiful, beautiful aroma, I could almost hear them whispering. "Eat me, Jaune. Eat me."

And I'd turned them down.

Part of the reason was that as soon as I'd approached the pancakes, an orange-haired girl had immediately started glaring daggers at me, and I didn't want to be involved in a food-based brawl on my second day. It was only a minor reason, though. The larger reason was that they were simply too tempting. Those signs and scents, in addition to inducing hunger pangs, had caused a thousand other memories to begin to surface. None of them were quite yet complete, but I could make out the vague hints: of my sisters' delighted squeals as they dug into their own steaming stacks; of my mother's satisfaction as her work was so bounteously received; of my father's calm bemusement as he watched his children clog their hair with syrup; of a family, so often split by the ardour of life, finding the time to have a proper breakfast together. By taking that ambrosia, all those memories would flow back and come close to overwhelming me. One day, I would come back for them – I promised – but Initiation day was not that day.

With a heavy heart, I turned away from the pancakes, whereupon the orange-haired girl fell upon them with all the savagery of a hurricane. Instead, I settled for a bowl of porridge and a fresh apple. While not inspiring, it was at least nutritious and filling, and certainly still better than eighty percent of breakfasts I could remember.

Food sitting comfortably in my stomach, there was little else for me to do. I couldn't call Alisa, as she was busy with her own Initiation, and Lindow still insisted that only he would call us, not vice versa. Ruby looked to be enjoying some family bonding with her sister, and I didn't want to intrude. And yes, giving the friendship dice another spin was still an option, but with most people anxious for Initiation, it felt less productive than some additional preparation. As most students began drifting into the hall, I left and headed to the changing rooms.

The walk to my locker was longer than I recalled, but uneventful. I did note that the sugar rush had hit pancake girl, as she was now talking with the strength of six people at a boy with that distinct 'oh no, not again' look on his face, but I let them get on with their own business. I stepped past two more girls engaged in their conversation, unlocked my locker and pulled out my gear.

"Nice equipment you've got there."

I paused. That comment had been directed at me, hadn't it? I turned, to find one of those girls (tall, redhead, dressed kinda like Alisa but with a bit less skin) calmly watching me. "You mean this thing?" I gave my sword a shake.

She nodded a reply. "Indeed. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Thanks. I guess you'll be seeing it more over the next couple of years, but it's really not that impressive."

It was a rushed piece of crap that nobody was satisfied with, that was what I wanted to say. So desperate were we to get it up and running, everything about Cradle had been a rushed job, and nowhere was it more obvious than our barely-functional imitation God Arcs. With all the other work going on in the Den, combined with having to make replicas for the others, Licca had had less than two days to make an eight-foot zweihander, that could transform into an eight-foot cannon, that could also transform into a five-foot tower shield. It was already a miracle that it was close to a good weapon, but neither of us were satisfied with the result. The balance was off, shield deployment was slow, cannon power was down, and she hadn't had any time to replace the devour function with anything, so it just left me with fewer options than my proper weapon. Of course, God Arcs and civilians did not mix, which was why I was using this crappy knock-off in the first place, but still: this redux version of Invida Mors was a rushed piece of crap.

"No, really. I think you're being a little harsh on it." Unaware of my inner rants, Miss Red here continued. She wouldn't know any of that from looking, but given that there weren't many Grimm with razor pinions (Nevermore feathers could pierce through things, yes, but were awful at cutting things off), I could imagine how a (imitation of a) refashioned lump of severed wing would look unusual to her.

"Maybe. The main problem's a bad repair job, rather than anything inherent, so it'll probably be better once I fix all that." It was close enough to the truth, and provided a fair explanation for my recalcitrance. I didn't push it any further, though; there would be a point coming up soon, when humility turned into ingratitude. Probably better to change the subject. "I didn't get your name, did I? I'm Jaune. Pleased to meet you."

Red blinked. Several times, in fact, almost as if her thoughts had slipped a gear. Before I could start thinking of possible explanations, though, the other girl (previously anonymous, shorter, white hair, white everything), interrupted. "Wait a minute. Jaune, is it? Do you really have no idea who you're talking to?"

"Am I supposed to?" I looked back at Red (who had pulled back slightly, seemingly bemused by the direction of the conversation), and racked my brain. Actors? Models? Random people who presented a one-off documentary and then were considered celebrities? There was… not quite nothing, but almost. A memory of a memory, perhaps once useful background knowledge, now long-discarded as useless and unnecessary. Needless to say, it didn't contain a name. "I can't say I do."

The disdain in White's eyes was palpable. "Let me inform you, then. Jaune, this is Pyrrha." Red – Pyrrha – gave a brief hello at her name, but White quickly ploughed through. "Pyrrha graduated top of her class at Sanctum. Ring any bells yet?"

"Sanctum. Sanctum…" Had I applied there, once? Or did I only want to apply, before picking somewhere else because I was an uncoordinated mess? Or was I thinking of Signal, or any of the other combat schools? Anyway, it wasn't helping. "I'm pretty sure that's a school. I don't remember which one, but it's a school."

"Urgh." Yep, White was definitely getting more irritated. Everything showed it: her eyes, her voice, her posture, her breathing, everything. "She's also won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row. A new record, in fact. Helpful?"

I had never paid much attention to things in other countries. "I assume that's a very prestigious achievement?"

My lack of answer did not impress. White's eyes narrowed again, and she promptly started a small fit. "She's on the front of every box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes! You know that, right?"

"Huh." Pumpkin Pete and all his assorted cereals were something that I remembered. Sure, I didn't remember the shapes and flavours exactly, but they'd been a breakfast staple for my entire childhood, and there were enough memories intact to raise a concern. "I did not know that they made marshmallow-flavoured cereal now."

White's minor fit completely froze. If Pyrrha had slipped a gear earlier, then several executables in White's brain had crashed. Pyrrha took the opportunity to add her own insightful comments. "Actually, they're still pumpkin-flavoured. It's mostly just their regular Pumpkin Flakes, but they mix in some extra marshmallows so kids like them more. You feel them rather than taste them."

"Sounds decent." I'd never been a fan of those flakes in my childhood – always preferring the puffs – but I did see the appeal of added marshmallows. Granted, most of that was because marshmallows hadn't exactly been a commodity back at the Den, but it would still be a nice thing to taste. "Remind me to try those some time."

"Wait one second." It had taken a moment, but had finished rebooting, and she was pushing right back into the conversation. "Maybe haven't heard of Pyrrha Nikos, but how have you not heard of Marshmallow Flakes? Didn't you see the ad campaigns? Have you lived in a cave for the past six months?"

"Not exactly, but close enough." Two-thirds of the Den was underground, so if you squinted, maybe it counted as a cave? At least if those Marshmallow Flakes had been a new introduction, it made sense I wouldn't know about them. Also, White had frozen up again, so I turned my attention back to the other girl. "Hey, Pyrrha. Our friend here said you won some tournaments or something. Want to spar some time?"

Given that the only person I'd ever sparred properly with was Alisa, I really did need new sparring partners. Hopefully Pyrrha did too, but there was a significant pause as she considered it. What could she be thinking of? My strength, if I was worth fighting? Unlikely. Yes, we'd know each other for two minutes, but she didn't seem quite battle-focussed enough for that. Public relations concerns? If she was some sort of celebrity, then –

" –re."

I was deep enough in thought that I didn't hear Pyrrha's reply clearly. I just gave a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry, I was distracted. Could you repeat that?"

Pyrrha responded with her own smile, warm if slightly patronising. "Sure, Jaune. I'd love to have a spar with you some time."

Initiation: get literally thrown into a forest, pair up basically at random, collect a poorly-described relic, get out of there before sunset. Oh, and don't get eaten by all the Grimm. Easy, right?

"Aaaah!"

Screams. Shouts. Panic. Cries to retreat and reorganise, lost in the chaos. Deathstalker charging, breaking our formation. Flock of Nevermore circling, to pick off stragglers. Morale low. No obvious escape.

I'd faced worse odds alone.

"I'll keep the Deathstalker busy! Deal with the Nevermore!" In the end, a Deathstalker was just a mutant, overgrown scorpion. I'd dealt with dozens, if not hundreds of them before, except most of those could shoot lightning. I could tank one measly Deathstalker for days, as long as nothing else was trying to eat my face.

"Are you crazy?" someone else shouted. The white girl – Weiss, I think. "You can't face something like that head-on! We have to fall back and regroup!"

"Trust me on this!" I countered. I didn't blame her doubt, given she hadn't lived what I'd lived. "Focus on the fliers for now, and when they're all down, we can deal with this here and now." As if backing up my points, the Deathstalker chose that moment to try impale me with its stinger. I simply ducked, then deployed my shield to block the follow-up decapitation attempt.

Weiss made some sort of frustrated noise, but to her credit, she disengaged from the scorpion and started rallying people for a more coordinated attack on the Nevermore. Of course, people preparing to attack aren't actually attacking, and said Nevermore took the lull to carpet them with razor-black feathers. Thankfully a wall of ice blocked them from any harm; Weiss's semblance was certainly proving its worth.

Less thankfully, the Deathstalker also tried to take advantage of that lull, and turned its attention away from me. That would have meant a very obvious opening to smash off a leg or too, except Weiss or Ruby or someone would be eaten in the time it took. Nope, the best course of action was to recklessly jump in the way of its claws. While everyone was naturally worried about my lack of self-preservation, my shield didn't even buckle. Badly made it may have been, but at least the materials were good.

Anyway, since it just tried to shred me, it would probably now try to sting me, so I adjusted my grip and footwork, ready to deflect the incoming thrust. It never came. With a ring of steel, the Deathstalker screamed in pain, an ugly red gash oozing out on its stinger. Quickly retreating from its thrashing form, Pyrrha danced to my flank. "You looked like you needed some help there. Are you sure you have this?"

As before with Weiss, I understood my partner's doubts. "If you're offering, I'll take it." Pyrrha was competent enough that she could help without getting in my way; her skill set also didn't seem too well-suited against high-flyers, so this was just a better use of resources. "Don't take any risks, though. Let me take the big hits, and if you see any more opportunities like that, go for them."

Pyrrha looked like raising an objection. I ignored it. Instead, I jumped in the way of another claw strike, this one aimed at the pancake girl from earlier (whose name I still didn't pick up). She apparently didn't notice the giant Grimm trying to bisect her, choosing the moment to launch a Dust grenade into the sky. The blonde girl – Ruby's sister – Yang, that was it – then proceeded to punch it, with far more force than seemed reasonable or necessary. Somehow it didn't explode right then, only detonating after the force of the punch smashed it into one of the circling Nevermore. I smiled at the sight of charred lumps of Grimm crashing into the forest canopy. One down, more to go.

Wait, make that two down. A clunk of a bolt, a pull of a trigger and a small cheer later, Ruby sniped down the second of the flock. This was going well, and as long as nothing bad happened, we'd clean this up no problem.

As an aside, some people may say that such phrases as 'as long as nothing goes wrong' and the like do nothing but tempt fate. Those people are stupid. A single sentence isn't going to change the outcome of anything significant. Indeed, in that circumstance with the Nevermore and Deathstalker, despite the dangerous flags I raised, nothing bad happened.

The Deathstalker attempted to kill me. Another Nevermore exploded. Nothing bad happened.

Pyrrha took out an eye. Weiss froze a bird mid-flight. Nothing bad happened.

I stood firm. A bit of falling Grimm grazed my cheek. Nothing – well, maybe that last one counted as something bad, but otherwise, nothing bad happened.

And with that, the flock was gone, dead or otherwise scattered, and all was left was one Grimm and eight fighters. Yes, we were all tired and battered – my blade would need a long, long tune-up after this – but we were alive, and eager to finish this.

The Grimm sensed it. It knew it was encircled, and facing impending demise, so sought escape. It looked for the weakest link in the circle – Ruby, apparently – and tried to break through. In doing so, it took its attention away from me, as before, and left me with an all-too-obvious opening, as so many times before.

This time, I took it.

As soon as it started turning, my weapon was moving. I knew exactly where I was aiming. I hadn't been idly blocking its rips and jabs; I'd taken a good look at its movements, looking for all its weak points, the joints and chinks in its exoskeleton that a weapon could slip through. My target barely counted as a weak point. Even with the gap in the chitin, the skin was still thick and heavy there, enough that most weapons would still struggle to get through.

Most weapons weren't eight feet of solid steel, though.

I didn't scream in exertion or anything, for there was no need. With just a grit of the teeth, I buried Invida Mors into the base of the Grimm's tail, right where it met its body. Dull and unpolished the blade may have been, its weight had a quality of its own. With barely a hint of resistance, hide and flesh gave way, and the entire tail was torn off onto the forest floor.

Writhing, twisting, spasming, obviously the Deathstalker reacted, but none of that was controlled, and all of it was easy to dodge. Still, it turned towards me in its rage, just in time to see me shifting my weapon into cannon form, and aiming it right towards its face. As much as I wasn't the sort of person for one-liners, the moment was perfect.

"Boom. Headshot."

I pulled the trigger, and the Deathstalker exploded.

"Cardin Winchester, Russel Thrush, Dove Bronzewing, Sky Lark. The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Cardinal, led by Cardin Winchester."

Many people looked up to Professor Ozpin, and not just because he was on a raised dais. Probably because he was the headmaster at Beacon, and so was the best example of a huntsman to strive towards, or something like that. Ruby, in any case, had stars in her eyes, and everyone else from our incident in the forest was at least looking attentive. Me, though?

All I could think of was how much Ozpin looked like Paylor Sakaki.

I'd noticed it in the auditorium on the day before, but the resemblance was still uncanny. Honestly, they could have been brothers. They had the same hair colour, the same facial structure, the same hair style, the same crappy-enough eyesight to need glasses, even a similar dress sense. There was a similarity in their voices, too: while they sounded nothing alike on the surface (which was enough to tell them apart), they had a same tired undertone, of somebody who'd seen too much and knew more than they liked. Given their similar positions of power, it was almost to be expected.

Anyway, given that pile of similarities, part of me extrapolated further, and concluded that Ozpin would keep most of his secrets close to his chest, only telling us what we needed to know, but still be acting in our best interests in the end. The more rational part of me said that that extrapolation was stupid, and went back to listening to the ceremony.

"Jaune C. Arc, Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha Nikos, Lie Ren." Hey, that was us. With a quick glance to make sure my soon-to-be teammates were following, I walked up onto the stage. "The four of you collected the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Juniper, led by Jaune Arc."

Huh. Leadership, again. While I wouldn't say that I felt I deserved it, putting the mantle back on still felt appropriate. It would be like back at Fenrir, only with fewer life-or-death situations and more teenage drama. I could handle that. I didn't have to force any smiles as I led my team back off, the crowd (politely) applauding us all the way.

"And finally: Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao-Long." Here came the other half of our escapade. "The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Ruby, led by Ruby Rose."

Ruby? I knew I didn't have the best view of events, but I'd have guessed that Weiss had shown more leadership qualities in the forest. Then again, Ozpin might have been using different metrics. In any case, she might be a bit rough to start with, but with a bit of experience, she'd turn out a fine leader.

Anyway, as the crowd applauded Ruby's new team, my attention turned back to my own. Pyrrha Nikos: a prodigy tournament fighter, with some degree of celebrity. Nora Valkyrie: a pancake lover with a similar love for explosions. Lie Ren: a person. Okay, I didn't know much about him, but he apparently downed two Nevermore without me noticing, and he also looked surprisingly like the other Ren I knew.

If given a free choice, would I have chosen this team? Well, no, because the team I picked would have been Alisa, Kota and Lindow, none of whom were actually proper options. Would I still prefer my old team to them? Well, yes, because we had two-and-a-half years of shared experience, living, fighting and surviving together, and that couldn't be overwritten so quickly. But in the end, none of that mattered.

This was my team, and I was their leader. Abandoning them was never an option. From this day forth, they were my responsibility, and I was theirs. We were in this together, from now until the bitter end.

Team Juniper would work. I'd make sure of it.

Unrelenting tides of monsters seeking to devour the vestiges of civilisation? Check. Specially-trained warriors standing against them? Check. Even with an extremely broad lens, the worlds of RWBY and God Eater are remarkably similar, so a crossover seems natural. Combined with the popularity of Competent!Jaune fics on the site, writing a story with Jaune a veteran of the God Eater world felt like it had the highest potential.

Given the niche-ness of the God Eater Franchise, I imagine most readers will be more familiar with RWBY than God Eater. I recommend Google to learn more, but to summarise extremely briefly: in the near future, monsters known as Aragami began devouring all life on Earth. Conventional weaponry proved ineffective, but implanting weapons with Aragami cells created weapons called God Arcs that actually worked. People trained to use these weapons against the Aragami are called God Eaters. There are obviously a lot more nuances, which I hope to delve into more in further chapters.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please leave a review so I know what I'm doing right; if you didn't, please leave a review so I know what I'm doing wrong. In regards to updates, I can't promise anything regular, but more feedback means more motivation to write, rather than procrastinate in other ways.