Life at Beacon Academy had been rough for one Jaune Arc, it seemed more as though he had been cast the court jester than the aspirant hero he thought of himself as. He had hoped for some recognition as his skills increased, and while he was no longer tripping over himself in combat, the gap between his peers remained the chasm it had started out as. While on most days Jaune's bruised ego would be soothed by the patient reassurances doled out by a diligent Pyrrha; there had been rumours abound, those of a tournament or festival on the horizon and the standard fare besmirching both his and Pyrrha's names.

It was too much. He couldn't sit idly by with his meagre skillset; he would prove himself capable by winning any tournament afoot. While admirable a goal, he still had no idea how to give himself the edge he needed to really compete let alone win. It had been a scant second before his mind worked its way to Pyrrha but he had relied on her far too much already, and as much as the rumours of whatever was between them might embolden his fantasies he wouldn't drag her to his level.

No, what he needed was something unique to him. Though he had a clue as to where to start, namely his aura, he still lacked a mentor figure to guide him upon his path. With Pyrrha out of the equation, and by proxy the rest of his team, it was a difficult task to find someone that would aid him. The obvious answer to his prayers lay just across the hall from him, Jaune kept finding himself drawn back to team RWBY's display against the Nevermore. They had seemed monstrous in their strength, it was that very strength that he wanted, that he needed; but perhaps it wasn't so obvious when one put thought to it. Despite being on friendly terms with them team RWBY he was intimidated by their strength and eccentric personalities, it left one to wonder what he might have to endure under their tutelage.

Never let it be said that Jaune Arc was a coward—while he did know the value of a tactical retreat—he would have to face this challenge if he wanted to get any respect during his stay in Beacon.

It had been a short deliberation on which member of RWBY he would ask, the result being the bold, brazen and beautiful Yang Xiao Long. He had yet to gauge Blake beyond her cold demeanour and he would never convince Weiss to give him the time of day, unfortunately that also excluded Ruby from his options since the two were inseparable as of late; of course it had nothing to do with his already wounded pride.

With his path divined and his future certain all that remained was to find a suitable time to ask Yang well away from any prying eyes or ears, he'd not have Yang's name sullied with his. It was first light peeking through the curtain that designated the sleeping area of 'the boys' that roused him from his thoughts, while he had gotten some sleep the night before he realised that a healthy helping of caffeine would be needed to get through the day.

His quest for recognition shelved and initiating his quest for coffee, something he wasn't very fond of, he found himself fantasis— contemplating what he would learn under Yang. Passing through the common area and over to the kitchenette he saw her.

Stood there in her glorious, dishevelled state was Yang Xiao Long, his chosen mentor—poison—and one of the monsters he had come to admire. She hadn't noticed him yet, her eyes seemingly glassy and unseeing. The sight of her was surreal to Jaune; the very same person that had jumped into the beak of a Nevermore and fired shots into its belly was standing dazed over the kettle waiting for it to boil.

Stunned as he was by the sight before him, he lost all form of initiative when Yang stirred and turned to face him; time continued to tick by but Jaune remained oblivious to it, gawking at Yang.

"If you're interested in what you see you might want to say something." The lilted tone came, rousing Jaune from his daze and forcing him to flush crimson.

"Yes. No, I mean-" a giggle cut him off as he made a fool of himself, feeling his entire body turn red he made to leave if only to escape the embarrassment of the moment.

Cutting through his embarrassment and urge to leave came an apology; "I'm sorry Jaune, what did you want?" throwing the poor boy a line after watching him squirm.

Having stopped and turning around to face her again, Jaune found himself hesitating. A soft silence descended on the area as Yang patiently waited for him to work up whatever nerve he had to start what would, no doubt, be another in a very long line of confessions. It was a long minute until Jaune spoke again; she had taken the time to ready herself to break whatever remained of the boy's faux confidence.

"Will you-" Yang steeled herself as he started. "Train me?"

The steel that coursed through Yang bent as those two words sent signals it couldn't understand, it was another long minute before she managed to say something; Jaune growing more and more nervous under her gaze.

"This isn't a confession?" A sense of wonder pervaded the words, as if the idea of Jaune not confessing to her—as he had to both Weiss and Pyrrha—was alien to her.

Jaune spluttered in response, any semblance of control he had in the conversation disappeared with the white of his cheeks; his blush returning in full force.

It was in the midst of his attempts to formulate a coherent response the kettle boiled, signalling the end of Yang's time idling by the kitchenette. It was only on her way past him with her coffee in tow that she finally answered his question.

"I'll do it, see you after class." Her form slinking back the way he had come from, it was only once she was out of his sight that her answer had sunk in. His quest for caffeine forgotten he Idled his way back to his room, wondering if his health would last in an extended session with the fiend that was Yang.

It had been a trying day for Jaune, he had made sure to keep an eye on Yang at all times, if only to satisfy his paranoia on the matter. Not one suspicious move was made throughout the day and while his attention to Yang may have drawn the ire of Pyrrha, no doubt due to his lack of attention to class, it was well worth the peace of mind it gave him. The peace was shattered on the advent of his final class, opening his workbook to find a message from Yang scrawled on the page detailing the location for their after school rendezvous. He had to give her credit for sneaking the message in there though; he hadn't left his bag unattended for more than a few minutes today.

A nervous hour later Jaune made his way down to one of the enclosed training areas on campus, truth be told he had no clue how Yang had managed to get access to one, they only ever seemed to be used during classes. Regardless of his wondering the time of reckoning was now, pushing his way through the doors he spied Yang stood in the centre of the arena eyes fixed on him. If there was ever a time to turn and run it had long since passed, a predatory gaze stalked him as he made his way into the arena.

"How did you manage this?" His curiosity rearing its head with a focus in front of it, the question hung in the air for moments too long. Yang stood silent, eyes still fixed on him. He was afraid, he had never realised Yang could be so intense before, it was as if she were cataloguing ever step he made and every breath he took. He wanted to move forward, to take those last few steps to reach the kind of space you hold a casual conversation in. No matter how much he wanted to though he couldn't move, he could feel his death lurking a step away. His veins iced, a chill creeping its way into his heart. Any moment now, he could feel it.

An explosion; his heart starts again almost too vigorously as her laughter fills the hall.

"You should have seen the look on your face Jauney boy." The smirk on her face could seem almost cruel and even knowing her playful nature he shifts uncomfortably under it. "First things first then Jaune, fists up." She brandished her wrists, making a show of Ember Celica's absence. He idly wondered why they'd fight bare handed; he didn't intend to take even a single beowolf on without a weapon.

Nonetheless he obliged his new teacher; it wouldn't do to disappoint her so soon. Having put Crocea Mors down he raised his fists, attempting to imitate her stance, no sooner than he had she charged. Closing the distance in short order, she struck out into his guard, hitting nothing but air as Jaune stumbled over his own feet. With a sigh Yang extended her arm to help him up.

"This is going to take a while, huh?"

It was an hour later with Jaune sprawled out exhausted that Yang called an end to their session. It'd been a slaughter. Jaune's stance, reactions and movement were all subpar; truthfully she had no clue what she could do with him, but she'd been expecting something like this. It'd be a long while of just drills but at least he'd gain from it and she wasn't adverse to spending time helping him out. There was perhaps one vector she could work off of though.

"Jaune, do you know what your semblance is?" She didn't have much hope for it but perhaps it would help, if he even knew it. A sheepish hand scratched the back of his head; it told her all she needed to know. Another sigh escaped her lips, it seemed as though it was becoming a theme in her interactions with Jaune.

"Its fine, I didn't think you would." There was something in her voice as she said it, something Jaune couldn't put his finger on. Almost wistful in delivery, it didn't feel as though she'd insulted him so he did his best to let the comment go.

"We'll meet here every Friday after classes for an hour, or more depending on how long you last Jauney boy." Crimson flushed across his face and with a wink Yang was gone, leaving him to stew in his thoughts. Dragging his mind—kicking and screaming no doubt—away from the thoughts of Yang's body he settled on his performance. He'd been pathetic and the self-loathing was coming on, it'd be hard to face Pyrrha without worrying her that night. Gathering up Crocea Mors he made his way back towards his dorm.

Comfortable in his office, curtains drawn against the world, Ozpin sat having observed the training session between Yang and Jaune; he hadn't expected this development. Hopefully Miss Xiao Long would be good for the boy; perhaps it'd be best to bury his transcripts though. It wouldn't do for an overly curious student to get their hands on them after all and Miss Xiao Long did have some rather— knowledgeable acquaintances. He had no doubts it wouldn't come out eventually but he'd buy whatever time he could for the boy to mature into his potential.