Shards of Reminisce Ch.58

I'm at the park.

The same one where Jeanne and I first met, where we've been meeting regularly ever since. Now I'm waiting for her to arrive, but this time it isn't just the two of us—there's going to be more people. Today's the day I'm supposed to "talk things out" with Yang.

That blonde bitch.

Well, things have calmed down a lot since then, and I'm in a relatively better headspace now, so I guess I can actually have a conversation with her without wanting to punch her in the face. And since Jeanne will be there along with her partner as mediators, things should go... okay. Probably.

I take another sip of my Pepsi, watching people pass by. The park seems busier than usual today; families with kids running around, joggers doing their laps, a few couples walking hand in hand. Which is weird because the other times I was here, it was practically empty.

Must be the time of day.

Eventually, I spot Jeanne coming from the entrance. She notices me at the same time and waves enthusiastically, quickening her pace with that bright smile of hers. Behind her, Pyrrha follows at a more measured pace, and finally Yang trails them with her arms crossed, looking more annoyed than anything else.

I can share the sentiment.

Either way, I stand up, stretching my arms above my head and working out the kinks in my back before they arrive.

"Ma'iq! Thanks for coming." Jeanne greets me once she's close enough, slightly out of breath, which is a little weird.

"Yeah, no problem."

Seconds later, Pyrrha arrives and offers a polite smile. "Hello, Ma'iq. It's good to see you again."

"Pyrrha," I acknowledge with a nod.

Yang just gives me a flat "Hey."

"Hey." She gets the same energy back.

A momentary silence falls over us, which feels awkward. I mean, what am I supposed to say? What are they supposed to say?

I think Yang should start with an apology, personally.

The blonde brawler shifts her weight from foot to foot, chewing her cheek like she's trying to decide if she wants to be here at all.

"So, um," Jeanne finally breaks the silence, her voice overly cheerful as she tries to dispel the tension growing around us. "I've listened to Yang's side of what happened as soon as we got back to Beacon, and she's promised to listen to yours without causing any problems. Right, Yang?"

Yang rolls her eyes but nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'll listen."

"Good." Jeanne looks at me hopefully, her blue eyes pleading with me. "Things got pretty messy back then, and I think maybe some things didn't get explained properly. So maybe if we all just... talk it out? Without any screaming or fighting?"

Pyrrha nods in agreement, her expression calm.

Yang just groans but doesn't object to Jeanne's suggestion.

I shrug, deciding to play along for Jeanne's sake. "Fine. I'll admit I was pretty pissed back then and didn't really explain things well. So I'll lay it all out for everyone and answer questions if needed." I gesture toward the nearby bench. "Let's sit down for this. Might take a while."

I take a seat on one end of the bench. Jeanne quickly moves to claim the spot right next to me. Pyrrha takes the seat between Jeanne and the other end, maintaining a perfect posture.

Yang looks at the now-full bench and throws her hands up with exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, come on, guys. You left me without a seat."

Though she doesn't sound actually upset or mad—there's almost a hint of amusement in her voice as she plops down on the grass in front of us without any real complaint, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands casually.

"Comfy down there?" I ask dryly.

"Yep, totally better than some hardass wooden bench anyway," she shoots back with a smirk.

"Okay!" Jeanne quickly cuts in before we can start trading more barbs. "So, Ma'iq, why don't you start from the beginning? What actually happened that evening?"

I take a long sip of my Pepsi, gathering my thoughts. Might as well get this over with.

"Alright. So here's what actually went down..."

I explain how I'd been living at a cheap motel when I first arrived in Vale (Omitting that I was kidnapped and dropped here) because, surprise surprise, being a Faunus makes finding decent housing a massive pain in the ass. I spent weeks looking for a job—also omitting my work for Roman—before finally landing a position as a cook in the industrial district. With that income, I managed to secure an apartment. Nothing fancy, but it was mine, and it was good enough.

Except the landlord, being the upstanding citizen he was, made me sign a completely bullshit contract. Extra deposits, stricter terms, shorter lease periods—all because I'm a Faunus and he needed "assurances" that I wouldn't be a criminal or cause trouble. You know, the usual.

Pyrrha's expression darkens at that, her jaw tightening. Jeanne looks genuinely upset, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. Even Yang seems bothered, her eyes narrowing and her casual posture stiffening slightly.

I continue, explaining how things were going relatively well for a while. Then someone accused me of drugging people with my food; complete and total bullshit, and I got fired on the spot. No investigation, no benefit of the doubt, no chance to defend myself. Just gone. So I had to scramble for another job immediately because if I didn't find one fast, I'd be kicked out of my apartment and back on the streets. That's how I ended up at Junior's club. No conditions, no bullshit contracts, just "be a bartender for the night shift and you're good." It helped that the twins put in a word for me, and since Yang had trashed the place, they needed staff anyway.

To demonstrate my skills, I summon a few cups and I show off a couple of bartending tricks, the basic flashy stuff that gets good tips from drunk customers.

I dismiss the cups before continuing. Then explain that the job at Junior's was actually pretty decent, all things considered. I was content, making good money, even earning nice bonuses from tips. So I decided to treat myself for once and buy a bike. Got my license—omitting that it's completely fake—spent some time browsing dealerships and online listings, and eventually found one for cheap from some sketchy-looking clown of a dude selling out of a garage.

Yes, it's a blatant lie. The truth is that Junior gave me Yang's bike as a bonus specifically because there's no way he'd stay silent after she trashed his club, so I stole it and decided to keep it because it looked cool enough. 

But what they don't know won't hurt them.

Anyway, I enjoyed riding it around the city for a bit, finally feeling like things were actually looking up for once in my life.

And then I met Yang. By her punching me in the chest and sending me rolling across the street like a fucking tumbleweed.

Yang clicks her tongue at that description and immediately gets sharp glares from both Pyrrha and Jeanne.

I continue, explaining how we both got arrested after that mess. The cops, naturally, treated me like complete shit—shocking me with their tasers so hard they literally burnt my clothes, roughing me up, throwing me in a cell for the night while she probably got off with a slap on the wrist and a phone call to daddy. At least Junior sent one of his lawyers to bail me out, otherwise I'd probably still be rotting in lockup.

Well, it was actually Neo who grabbed one of Junior's lawyers, but same difference.

I didn't mention the conversation with Ozpin or his condescending scholarship offer, but I did mention the real kicker: that arrest went on my permanent record. And my lovely landlord used that as the perfect excuse to immediately kick me out of my apartment and confiscate all my belongings as "compensation for breach of contract." Just like that, I was homeless again.

Thankfully, Neo stole my stuff back.

And if it wasn't for a friend (Neo) letting me crash at her place, I'd be sleeping on the streets right now. Because with that arrest record, nobody would ever want to rent to a Faunus. Too much of a "liability."

I finish and take another long sip of my Pepsi, letting that all sink in while they process everything.

The silence that follows is awkward

Jeanne and Pyrrha exchange meaningful looks.

"Wow, that's... that's a lot to go through." Jeanne speaks up, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Yeah," Pyrrha adds, her voice is clear she's upset—not at me, but at the situation. "That's absolutely awful. I'm so sorry you had to experience all of that."

Yang, for her part, has gone quiet. Her arms are still crossed, but her expression has shifted from annoyed to guilt, maybe? Or at least she understood she fucked up.

But then she lets out a long groan and throws her hands up in the air. "Great. Now I feel like a complete bitch."

"That's... one way to put it," Pyrrha comments carefully. "What you did had serious consequences for Ma'iq's life."

"I know, I know!" Yang runs a hand through her blonde hair, frustration evident in every movement. "I just... I didn't think about any of that when I saw my bike after a week of being stolen. I just saw red and went after the guy riding it."

"Without asking questions." I point out flatly.

"Without asking questions…" she admits, her shoulders sagging. "Look, I was pissed because someone stole my bike, and when I saw you riding it, I just... assumed you were the thief. Which, okay, yeah, I get now that was a really stupid thing to do."

"A very stupid assumption," Jeanne adds, her tone disappointed.

Yang nods, looking down at the grass. "Jeez, no need to pile on me, but yeah. I fucked up. Big time." She takes a deep breath and looks up at me directly, her lilac eyes meeting mine. "Look. I guess I owe you an apology now... I'm sorry, Ma'iq. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, I'm sorry I punched you without even trying to talk first, and I'm sorry that my actions caused you to lose your apartment and all your stuff."

It's an apology, at least. Her eyes don't flinch away from mine. I can't tell if she's actually feeling remorseful or just going through the motions, but it kinda helps that she's looking me in the eye. Makes it harder to want to punch her in the face.

“I know saying sorry doesn't fix any of it," The brawler continues. "Won't get your apartment back or your stuff back or clean your record. But I am really sorry."

I take another sip of my Pepsi and look up at the blue sky, considering her words. I felt like utter shit back then—like really hitting rock bottom and looking so extremely pathetic, if it wasn’t for Neo I would have stayed on the floor. And now that I'm thinking back on it, part of me is still angry. Part of me wants to find a way to make her pay for that.

But I've also got my own place now. A lot more money than before. Yeah, shit happened, but good things came after too.

Still doesn't mean I forgive her for it. Or that makes up for the past.

But Jeanne made the effort to set this up. And I know she would be disappointed if told this blonde to fuck off. Ugh. I should at least compromise with something, just for Jeanne’s sake.

I gulp down the rest of my drink and crush the can between my hands. "You're right," I finally say. "Sorry doesn't fix jack shit. And the more I think about it, the more pissed off I feel."

Yang winces slightly but doesn't look away.

"But," I continue, my ears twitching with annoyance, "I'm not gonna hold a grudge forever. That takes too much energy, and honestly? I've got better things to do than waste my time being angry at you."

Pyrrha nods approvingly at that.

Jeanne perks up, hope flickering across her face.

"HOWEVER." I interject sharply, getting everyone's attention as I stand up. "You still fucked me, and I won't ever feel satisfied unless I make you pay even a little."

And that's the truth. I want to—I really want to do something to get back at her. That helpless feeling of being arrested, losing everything, watching my life crumble because of one stupid punch... it's been festering inside me like an infected wound that I’ve been ignoring for a while.

"Ma'iq..." Pyrrha starts, her expression shifting to something less than pleased.

"Wait, P-Money. Let me handle this," Yang says, holding up a hand to stop her teammate.

I feel my jaw clench, my tail lashing behind me. "I'm really pissed off now that I'm thinking about it. All that frustration, that anger, that complete impotence of being helpless while everything got taken away from me." My voice drops lower, rougher. "And it all started with you punching me in the chest. Really fucking hard. So I want to end this bullshit the same way it started—with a punch to the chest."

"Ma'iq, no!" Jeanne jumps up from the bench, her blue eyes wide with alarm. "That's not—you can't just—"

But Yang stands up slowly, not cowering in the slightest. Instead, that familiar cocky smirk spreads across her face, and her lilac eyes flash with something almost eager. "Y'know what? That sounds fair. Punch for a punch." She rolls her shoulders, loosening up. "I can respect that."

"Yang, what are you doing?!" Jeanne looks between us, her voice rising in panic.

"Owning up to my mistakes, girl." Yang's smirk turns almost vicious, her eyes literally flashing red for a brief second before returning to lilac. "And I like his style. Besides, I can easily take a punch, aura or not."

Something in me flares up at her confidence—that same arrogance that got me into this mess in the first place. My lips pull back, baring my fangs as I feel all that resentment and anger I've been keeping buried start to simmer and boil to the surface. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

"Fine." I growl.

We both walk away from the bench toward a more empty space—a clear patch of grass away from the path where fewer people are around.

Jeanne follows anxiously, wringing her hands. "This is a terrible idea! Someone's going to get hurt!"

"That's kind of the point," I mutter, rolling my shoulders and feeling my joints pop.

Pyrrha follows as well, though her expression is more resigned than worried. "If you're both determined to do this, at least make it clean. ONE punch, then it's over. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Yang says immediately, planting her feet and spreading her arms wide, leaving her chest completely open. That infuriating smirk never leaves her face. "Come on then, kitty cat. Give me your best shot."

My ear twitches at the nickname, and I feel my anger spike even higher. "Don't fucking call me that."

"Then stop talking and do it already," she shoots back, that red glint flashing in her eyes again.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. All that rage, all that helplessness, all those nights wondering how everything went so wrong so fast—I channel all of it into my right arm. My muscles tense, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

'Class Change: Pugilist'

The familiar weight of brass knuckles materializes around my fist, the metal cold and solid against my skin.

"Ooh, fancy," Yang comments, though her stance doesn't waver. "You gonna pose all day or actually—"

I don't let her finish.

I surge forward, my fist cocked back, every ounce of strength and saved up fury I possess focused into a single point. The world narrows down to just Yang's chest, that same place she hit me, and my incoming fist.

The impact is thunderous.

My knuckles connect with her sternum with a meaty CRACK that echoes across the park. Yang's eyes go wide, her breath exploding out of her lungs in a harsh wheeze. Her aura flares gold around the impact point, shimmering and crackling as it absorbs the blow, but even with that protection, she's lifted off her feet and sent flying backward.

She crashes into the grass several feet away, skidding to a stop on her back.

"YANG!" Jeanne yells, rushing forward.

She is really such a good person… fuck.

"Wait. Let her get up on her own." But Pyrrha catches her arm, holding her back. 

I'm standing there, chest heaving, fist still extended, brass knuckles slowly dissipating into motes of light. 

That felt... good. Really fucking good. A lot more than I anticipated.

For a moment, Yang just lies there, staring up at the sky. Then she starts laughing, actually laughing, even as she clutches her chest and struggles to catch her breath.

"Holy... shit," she wheezes between gasps and chuckles. "Okay... okay, I deserved that." She slowly pushes herself up to a sitting position, wincing but still grinning. "Damn, dude. You actually pack a punch. I felt that."

I lower my fist, the anger starting to drain away, leaving me feeling oddly hollow. "We done now?"

Yang nods, still rubbing her chest as she climbs to her feet with only a slight wobble. "Yeah. We're done. Oof." She meets my eyes, and for once, there's no smirk, no bravado, just a look of… respect? "Feel better?"

I consider that for a moment. Do I feel better? The rage is gone, replaced by a strange sense of... closure? Maybe?

"Yeah," I admit grudgingly. "I do."

"Good." Yang extends her hand. "Then we're even?"

I stare at her offered hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, I walk and reach out and shake it. Her grip is firm, and I don't hold back on mine either.

"We're even," I confirm.

Probably. Maybe.

But I won’t forget that.

Jeanne lets out a massive sigh of relief, her whole body sagging. "Oh thank the gods. I thought this was going to turn into a full fight."

Pyrrha releases Jeanne's arm, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes, the most direct solution is the best one."

Yang finally withdraws her hand, still grinning despite the obvious pain in her movements. "Not gonna lie though, that's gonna bruise even with aura. You really put everything into that punch."

"Damn right I did," I say flatly, rubbing my hand. "You earned every bit of it."

"Fair enough." Yang stretches carefully, testing her range of motion. "Well, at least now we can say we've both hit each other and survived. That's practically friendship by combat standards."

I snort. "Don't push your luck."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replies with a wink that immediately makes me regret not hitting her hard enough to break my hand.

-----------------------------------------------

-Later-

I'm walking with Jeanne as evening transitions into night—not quite dark yet, but the streetlights are flickering on one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Well, it was actually kind of fun hanging out with all three of them after that whole punching-Yang thing. Although "hanging out" might be too generous a term; it was more like just walking around together and eating ice cream at Jeanne's suggestion. Pyrrha and Yang left back to Beacon about an hour ago, but Jeanne stayed with me.

And Yang, despite being a complete bitch, was actually pretty fun to be around. Much to my shock. Maybe punching her in the chest made her more tolerable.

I should probably be heading to Junior's club for my shift by now, but nah. Jeanne wanted to hang out more, so I'm happily obliging. Work can wait a bit longer.

"—and then Professor Oobleck just keeps going, completely forgetting that normal people need to breathe between sentences," Jeanne is saying, her hands gesturing animatedly as we walk. "I swear, despite being there for months now, I still can't get the hang of his lectures. I always end up borrowing notes from Pyrrha, which are absolute godsends, especially with midterms coming up. I'd be completely lost without them."

I just let her talk and talk, content to listen. My ears swivel toward her occasionally, catching every word even as I keep my eyes forward, watching the streets.

Eventually, we end up at an opening between buildings, and I realize we're back at the park. Our park. It's a coincidence, but a welcome one.

Jeanne's face lights up when she recognizes it. "Oh! We're back here!" She quickens her pace, glancing back at me with a bright smile. "Come on, catch up!"

I roll my eyes but follow her anyway, my tail swishing behind me.

The park isn't crowded like earlier, which leaves it with its usual empty feeling—peaceful, almost serene in the fading light.

Jeanne leads me a little deeper into the park, away from the main path, until we reach an empty patch of grass. She drops down immediately, taking a seat with her hands supporting her behind her back as she looks up at the sky.

I take a seat beside her, and my ears perk up as an idea strikes me. With a flick of my wrist, I summon that pretentiously named chocolate cake; Gateau Au Chocolat, and cut her a generous slice before handing it over.

"Here."

Jeanne's eyes widen in surprise. "Oh! Thank you, Ma'iq!" She takes it eagerly, already bringing it to her lips.

One bite, and her eyes go even wider. Then she's devouring it like she hasn't eaten in days, little sounds of delight escaping her between bites. When she finishes, she licks her fingers clean, not wanting to waste a single crumb.

"That was..." She trails off, looking at the empty wrapper in wonder. "I've had chocolate cake before, but never anything like that. That was incredible!"

I smirk with pride, leaning back on my hands. "What can I say? I'm just that special."

"Yeah..." she mutters softly, something in her tone making my ear twitch.

Silence falls between us after that, comfortable and easy. We just sit there, looking up at the darkening sky. It isn't a full moon tonight—about three-quarters of it, hanging there like a partially closed eye. Inside the city, the stars aren't as visible as they would be in the outskirts, sadly. 

But there's still something oddly captivating about the view that I can't quite explain.

"Ma'iq?" Jeanne's voice breaks the silence.

"Yeah?" I turn my head to look at her.

She's quiet for a moment, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Earlier today, when you were talking about everything that happened to you... how bad things got..." She pauses, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I never really thought about what I would do in that situation, you know? Just living in a cramped room with a cold shower and eating instant noodles was already hard enough for me. Even worse, I took out a stupid loan after spending all the money my parents gave me—after lying to them—just to get those fake transcripts." She lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "And all I had to worry about was showing up to my part-time job, which I never would've gotten if it wasn't for you, and cramming for initiation training." She pauses, her voice dropping lower. "But now that I'm comparing it to what you went through? I feel bad for even thinking my problems were that serious. Or asking you for help."

I glance at her, watching as she rests her chin on her knees.

"Now it makes a lot of sense why you suddenly had so much free time to help me out with my training," she says quietly.

Yeah. Well, not entirely jobless, but yeah.

"And the worst part is," she continues, her voice getting even quieter, "even with all those problems piling up on you, even with everything you were going through, you still showed up to help me when my stupid mistake finally came back to bite me in the ass. You even stuck your neck out for me, risking your life to help me escape from those loan sharks and using what was probably most of your savings." She turns her head to look at me, her blue eyes shimmering slightly in the moonlight. "And not that long ago, you told me that you believe in my dream, in my goals." Her voice cracks just slightly. "Why? Why did you go so far for me, Ma'iq?"

Why?

I'm quiet for a long moment, my tail curling around my side. That's... actually a good question. I think she asked me that before, back when things first went to shit. One I've asked myself whenever that frustration came creeping back. 

Why did I keep showing up? Why help her?

It would've been easier to just ghost her, focus on my own shit.

I could easily lie or come up with some bullshit about it being "the right thing to do" or whatever. But I won't. I don't want to.

"I don't know," I finally admit, my voice rougher than usual. "I just... I saw you struggling and I couldn't just leave you alone, I guess?" I run a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself. "I really don't know how to explain it. Look, I'm not good with this kind of stuff, and trying to explain a gut feeling isn't doing it for me." I let out a harsh breath. "I just knew it, Jeanne. I've told you before—I'm from Vacuo. We don't give two shits about what happens to others. Nobody ever gave a damn about me unless I was the one stomping on their head repeatedly." My ears flatten slightly against my skull. "I guess I just... wanted to help? But nah, that's too simple. Too stupid. I've helped others before—not to that extent, but I've given a helping hand when asked."

But this felt different. She felt different, somehow. I just can't put it into words.

Jeanne chews on her cheek, mulling over my answer. Then she says flatly, "That's dumb."

"You're telling me." I deflate completely, dropping onto the grass and lying there, staring up at the partial moon.

A moment passes, then Jeanne lies down beside me, close enough that our shoulders are touching. "But... thank you. For being dumb enough to help me, anyway."

I snort. "Yeah, well... You're welcome."

We stay like that for a while, just lying there in comfortable silence. My ears twitch occasionally at distant sounds—a car passing, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the faint hum of the city that never quite goes away.

Then I feel Jeanne shifting beside me, rolling onto her side. Before I can check what she's trying to do, gentle hands suddenly cupped my head and pulled to rest against her chest.

I freeze completely as her hand begins to caress my head, fingers threading carefully through my hair between my ears.

"It must have been hard, hasn't it?" she whispers.

What the fuck—

"Whoa, hey—" I pull away instinctively, looking up at her with wide eyes. She's shifted herself up slightly, propped on one elbow, looking down at me with concern written all over her face. "What are you doing?"

Jeanne's face immediately flushes red, and she starts playing with the tip of her long braided ponytail, twirling it nervously between her fingers. "Um, well, my mom told me that I should... you know, do this to help a friend? I think? To show support?" She lets out an awkward little laugh. "Hehe..."

I just stare at her, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

What am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to do with that information? This is... this is weird, right? But also...

The silence stretches between us, and Jeanne's blush deepens, her fingers still fidgeting with her hair. "I-I'm sorry, was that too weird? I just thought—"

Slowly—so slowly I'm not even sure I'm making the decision consciously—I lower my head back down to rest against her chest. My ear presses against the fabric of her shirt, and I can hear her heartbeat. It's faster than normal, nervous.

Jeanne seems surprised for a moment, her breath catching. Then she gently pulls me closer, one arm wrapping around me while her other hand returns to my head, this time finding my ears. Her fingers are gentle as they stroke along the soft fur, occasionally scratching lightly at the base in a way that makes my tail curl involuntarily.

"Everything will be fine," she murmurs softly.

My throat feels tight for some reason.

I just stay there, letting her hold me, letting her play with my ears. The sensation is... soothing. More than it has any right to be.

Neo had done this to me before, but...

But this feels different.

This feels safe. Warm. Like something I didn't even know I was missing.

I close my eyes, just for a moment, just to enjoy the warmth and the quiet that Jeanne is giving me.

But when I do, I feel something wet roll down my cheek.

My eyes snap open immediately.

What?

I close them again, and more water spills out, trailing down my face and dampening Jeanne's shirt.

Why... why am I crying?

No. No, I'm not crying. I'm just... tearing up. That's different. That's not the same thing. But that still doesn't make any sense. I'm not sad. I'm not hurt. I'm just lying here, being comforted, feeling oddly at peace.

So why the fuck are tears running down my face?

I try to pull away, embarrassed, but Jeanne's arm tightens around me—not forcefully, just... secure. Keeping me there.

"Everything will be okay," she repeats softly, her hand never stopping its gentle ministrations on my ears. If she's noticed the tears soaking into her shirt, she doesn't say anything. Doesn't point it out or make me feel worse about it.

She just holds me.

And that somehow makes the tears come faster.

I grit my teeth, trying to stop them, trying to shove whatever this feeling is back down where it belongs. But it's not working. It gets more difficult to breathe, and I curl my hands into fists against the grass.

And that’s the moment when something surges through me. Before I can think about what I'm doing, I roll us over, causing Jeanne to let out a surprised yelp as her back hits the grass.

Now I'm on top of her, both hands planted on either side of her head, caging her in.

We just stare at each other in silence, eyes locked. The only sounds are our breaths.

Then another tear falls from my face, landing on her cheek. 

Then another. And another.

Fuck, I can't control them. They just keep falling, dripping onto her face

But Jeanne doesn't look scared. 

She just smiles—soft and understanding and so fucking gentle it makes my chest ache even more.

Her hands reach up slowly, cupping my cheeks. Her thumbs brush away some of the tears still streaming down my face, and I lean into her touch instinctively, my eyes closing for just a moment.

When I open them again, something's... different.

Jeanne's appearance shifts slightly; her skin becomes a shade lighter, her blonde hair takes on a paler, almost golden tone. And her eyes... her eyes change from their familiar blue to a striking bluish-green that makes my breath catch.

I blink hard, and she's back to normal. The same Jeanne. The same blue eyes, the same I've come to know so well.

But I don't get time to think more about it, because Jeanne's hands tighten on my cheeks and she pulls me down.

And her lips capture mine.

For a split second, I freeze—completely caught off guard. But then something in me just... gives in.

 One of her hands moves from my cheek to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.

The tears slow, then stop completely as I lose myself in the sensation. Everything else fades—the park, the city sounds, the confusion about what I saw. All of it disappears until there's just this moment. 

Just her.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers. My eyes are still closed, not ready to face whatever is waiting for me when I open them.

"Ma'iq," Jeanne whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I meant what I said before." Her fingers are still in my hair, gently stroking. "Everything will be okay. You don't have to be alone."

I open my eyes slowly, and she's looking up at me with those familiar blue eyes—no trace of that strange vision I thought I saw.

Just Jeanne. My Jeanne.

Wait. My Jeanne?

Then, like someone flipped a switch, Jeanne's face suddenly turns completely red. The soft smile vanishes, replaced by wide-eyed panic. Her hands fly away from my hair like I've burned her.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my GOSH!" She covers her face with both hands, her voice climbing in pitch. "I-I just... why did I—that wasn't…I shouldn't have…" She peeks through her fingers at me, looking absolutely mortified. "I am SO sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

I lean back and sit on the grass, a chuckle escaping me despite everything. The emotional whiplash from the heavy moment to Jeanne panicking is almost funny in how sudden and reverse it was

"Jeanne."

"—and your face was right there and you looked so sad and I just wanted to make you feel better but that's not how you make someone feel better, that's not normal at all, and now you probably think I'm some kind of weirdo who just kisses people when they're crying—"

"Jeanne." I reach out and take her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face, which is completely flushed.

I help her sit up, and she immediately won't meet my eyes, staring determinedly at the grass beside us.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, her voice small and miserable. "That was really stupid of me."

"It wasn't stupid."

"Yes, it was!" She finally looks at me. "You were having a moment and I just… I made it weird!"

I can't help it, I laugh, shaking my head. "You made it weird? Jeanne, I was the one crying on your chest like a fucking baby. If anyone made it weird, it was me."

"That's different!" she protests, her hands immediately going to fidget with her ponytail nervously. "You were upset! I was supposed to be comforting you, not…not…" She makes a frustrated gesture with her hands, clearly struggling to find the words. "Not that!"

"And who says kissing isn't comforting?" I counter, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, it's not like this is the first time we've kissed."

My ears go flat as soon as I realize what I just said so casually.

Shit.

Jeanne's face somehow manages to be more embarrassed than before. "That… that wasn’t… y-you can't just bring that up!"

"Well, I guess it's the best time now?" I say, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "It happened. At the airport, before you left for Beacon. Remember? It just happened after you kissed my cheek."

"Of course I remember!" she squeaks, covering her face again. "I think about it all the time and it's so embarrassing and I didn't know what to do and you just—"

"You think about it all the time?" I interrupt, catching onto that particular detail.

Jeanne freezes completely, then slowly lowers her hands to stare at me in horror, realizing what she just admitted. "I…"

 "I think about it too." I finished for her.

Because I do think about it.

She blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out. "You... you do?"

"Yeah." I look away, feeling my own face heat up now. My tail curls around my side defensively. " Drove me crazy wondering what it meant, if I should bring it up, and I tried, if you regretted it..."

"I didn't regret it!" Jeanne blurts out immediately, then claps her hands over her mouth.

I turn back to look at her, and we just stare at each other for a long moment. 

"So..." I start slowly, trying to navigate this conversation without fucking it up completely. "What do you want to do now?"

Jeanne's hands drop to her lap, where she twists them together nervously. "I... I don't know. I've never done this before. Any of this." She lets out a shaky laugh. "I've never even thought about dating or relationships or—or any of it. Dad and Mom gave me all sorts of advice, but well, I don't think I can apply them now that we're here." She finally meets my eyes again. "And well, I thought my first kiss would be with a cute girl..."

"Ah..." I blink, not entirely sure how to process that. "I'm not sure if I should feel offended or happy."

"Not in a bad way!" she rushes to clarify, waving her hands frantically. "Just—I mean, I always thought—you know, growing up, all the cool stories my sisters and dad would tell me about, and the couples I'd see in Ansel." She's rambling now, her face getting redder by the second. "I just kind of assumed it would be with a girl because that's what I always imagined, but then you came along and suddenly I'm thinking about you all the time and wanting to see you and my heart does this weird fluttery thing when you smile and…"

"Jeanne," I interrupt, trying to save her from completely spiraling. "Breathe."

She takes a deep breath, then another, her shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "Sorry. I'm making this weird again, aren't I?"

"Little bit," I admit with a small smirk. "But it's fine. I get it. Expectations versus reality and all that shit."

Jeanne fidgets with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her finger. "I just... I don't know how to do this. How to be... whatever this is." She gestures vaguely between us. "I like being around you. And I have a lot of fun whenever we hang out." Her voice gets quieter. "And I really liked kissing you. Both times."

"Yeah. Me too."

She adjusts another strand of her hair nervously, tucking it behind her ear even though it immediately falls back. "So... what does that mean? For us?"

I lean back on my hands, considering the question. Honestly? I'm not really sure what she's asking. What does it mean? She's... mine? I mean, that feels right. 

"I like you," I say simply, because that much is obvious. "You're important to me. So... yeah. You're mine now, I guess?"

Jeanne's eyes widen and let out a squeak. "Y-yours?"

"Is that not how this works?" I frown slightly, my ears twitching in confusion. "I mean, we kissed. Twice. And I like being around you. So... yeah. You're my woman."

"Your woman?!" Jeanne squeaks again.

I tilt my head, confused by her reaction. "Is that... wrong?"

Although I don’t really consider Miltia mine, she is cool although probably lost her after what I allowed Neo do with her.

Jeanne just stares at me for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing. "That's... that's really direct."

"Should I not be direct?" Now I'm even more confused. "Look, I'm not good at this complicated emotional stuff. I like you. You apparently like me. So... what's the problem?"

"There's no problem!" she rushes to say, then covers her face with her hands. "I just... you can't just say things like that so casually!"

"Why not? It's true."

She peeks at me through her fingers; her face still completely flushed. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes or a no?" I press, because I genuinely can't tell if she's okay with this or not.

Jeanne slowly lowers her hands, chewing on her bottom lip. "I... I think it's a yes? Maybe? I don't know!" She lets out a frustrated groan. "You're making my brain stop working!"

I can't help but smirk at that. "Good. That means I'm doing something right."

"That's not—" She cuts herself off, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "Okay. Okay. So you're saying... we're together? Like, actually together-together?"

"Yeah. " I confirm, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Because to me, it is.

I reach out and flick her forehead lightly. "Unless you're planning on forgetting about me the second you get back to the academy."

"Of course not!" she protests immediately, swatting my hand away.

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is..." She trails off, then lets out a long sigh. "I guess there isn't one. I'm just overthinking it."

"You think?"

She gives me a halfhearted glare. "You could be a little more sympathetic. This is all new to me."

"It's new to me too," I point out. "But I'm not freaking out about it."

"That's because you're weirdly confident about everything," she mutters.

"Not everything," I correct. "Just some stuff." I lean back on my hands again, looking up at the darkening sky.

Jeanne is quiet for a long moment, and when I glance at her, she's staring at me with this content expression that gives me goosebumps.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're just... really something, you know that?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good," she confirms, her smile growing. "Definitely good."

I feel my face heat up slightly, and I look away, my tail curling around my side. "Yeah, well. You're not so bad yourself."

She giggles at that. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she scoots closer and leans against my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

I freeze for just a second, then relax, letting my head rest against the top of hers. My tail uncurls and wraps loosely around her waist, pulling her closer.

"This okay?" she asks quietly.

"Yeah," I murmur. "This is good."

We stay like that for a while, just watching the stars that are barely visible through the city lights. 

"Ma'iq?" Jeanne's voice breaks the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"When you say I'm yours... does that mean you're mine too?"

I snort. "That's how it works, isn't it?"

"Just checking," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"So no running off with some cute girl at Beacon." I joke.

She laughs, the sound muffled against my shoulder.

Another stretch of serene silence, then I speak up again. "I really need to go to work."

"Yeah," I agree, but neither of us moves.

"My boss is probably going to be mad."

"Probably."

"I should go."

"You should."

Still, neither of us moves.

[Affection with Jeanne D'arc increased by 5, 54/100]

Congratulations on gaining another lover!

-----------------------------------------------

​Bonus Scene: 

Roman picked up a dented robot head from the crate, turning it over and examined the scorched metal. After weeks of digging through his network of informants and contacts, he'd finally traced the source of this peculiar demand for Atlesian scrap.

He was initially correct about Vacuo but it wasn’t the main city, but some backwater settlement south of the established zones. That's where all the scrap was being shipped. And Vale wasn't the only source feeding this operation. His contacts had confirmed similar shipments flowing in from Mantle and Mistral. The sheer volume of scrapped Atlesian military robots flooding into one insignificant desert town was staggering.

What really unsettled him was how legitimate the whole operation appeared. The robot factories in Atlas were selling the scrap directly through proper channels – clean transactions, immaculate paperwork. Almost too clean, which in Roman's experience meant someone powerful was greasing the wheels.

Unfortunately, that's where the trail went ice cold. The town itself was a ghost on every map he'd checked, as if someone had deliberately scrubbed it from existence.

Roman dropped the broken head back into the crate with a metallic clang and turned away. However, he froze mid-step.

That masked freak was standing there, barely three feet away, those unnerving green eyes fixed on him behind that ridiculous gasmask. The wheezing respirator was the only sound.

"GAH!" Roman clutched his chest, heart racing. "What the— You creepy son of a—" He shoved the man aside roughly, anger masking the fear that had spiked through him. "I already shipped your junk! What more could you possibly want?"

The question that really mattered slipped out before he could stop himself, dripping with more venom than he'd intended. "Or better yet, where's your bitchy owner been hiding herself these days?"

Cinder's prolonged absence was actually a blessing in disguise. With Junior's connections, Roman had finally managed to dig up some dirt on the fire witch. Turns out she used to be a slave girl from Atlas – which explained so much about her megalomaniacal control-freak tendencies and delusions of grandeur. Give them a bit more time, and they'd unearth every sordid detail about that woman. Information was leverage, and Roman desperately needed leverage.

But the masked man just stood there, silent as a tombstone, that mechanical breathing the only response.

"Oh, for the love of—" Roman waved Melodic Cudgel dismissively. "Stop being useless and tell me what you want, or get lost! Some of us have actual work to do."

Nothing. Just those glowing eyes boring into him.

The oppressive silence was starting to seriously creep him out when suddenly those eyes flashed crimson red. The masked figure's head snapped toward the upper right with inhuman, mechanical precision. Before Roman could even ask, the man launched himself forward with shocking speed, covering the distance to the shipping containers in a blur.

"What—" Roman whirled around just in time to see the figure tackle someone perched atop the containers.

A woman's scream split the air, cut short by a sickening, wet thud.

Then another.

And another.

Moments later, the masked freak descended from the containers, his armor and tattered clothes now painted with a fresh coat of dripping blood. He approached Roman with that same mechanical gait and held out a wallet, droplets of blood falling from the leather onto the concrete floor with soft plinks.

Roman grimaced, gingerly taking it between two fingers like it might contaminate him. He flipped it open with his cane, keeping maximum distance. An ID card stared back at him, the photo showing a severe-looking woman in her thirties.

Atlesian Military Intelligence.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Roman clicked his tongue. This wasn't some low-level grunt or curious civilian – this was a trained operative.

He spun toward his scattered crew, raising his voice. "EVERYONE PACK UP! TIME TO MOVE! NOW! And I mean five minutes ago!"

The workers scrambled into panicked action as Roman discarded the bloody wallet. How long had that spy been watching? What had she seen? And more importantly – had she already reported her findings? Were they racing against the clock before Atlas descended with whatever forces they still had stationed in Vale?

If she'd gotten word out, they'd have Atlesian Specialists kicking down doors within hours. If she hadn't... well, her disappearance would still draw attention eventually.

He glanced at the masked figure, now standing motionless again with those eyes back to their eerie green glow, blood still dripping methodically from his gauntlets onto the floor. The breathing apparatus continued its mechanical wheeze.

Roman Torchwick swallowed hard, adjusting his bowler hat with a hand that trembled ever so slightly.

He'd dealt with psychopaths, terrorists, and monsters wearing human skin. But this thing? Whatever it was, it wasn't human – not anymore, if it ever had been. And the worst part? He had absolutely no control over it.

Roman Torchwick felt genuinely unsafe.