RWBY: LUCID

The dodgeball matches passed by in a blur of laughter, lunges, and narrow misses. Jaune hadn't expected to be any good, but once he got the hang of moving with intent and anticipating the balls, he found himself doing… decently. Maybe even well.

He wasn't diving across the court like some of the others, but he managed to land a few good shots, block a couple shots, and—more than anything—just kept up.

They rotated teams a few times. Jaune played alongside Ruby once, who was faster than she looked, and even briefly paired with Blake, who didn't speak much but had a sharp eye and a killer throw when she bothered to launch it.

Then came the round with Pyrrha.

And that was something else.

She moved like she was dancing. Every motion smooth and practiced. She never seemed to need to try—just sidestepped attacks like she saw them before they even happened. Even when Nora launched a blistering serve that Jaune barely had time to flinch at, Pyrrha somehow intercepted and sent it rocketing back across in a perfect counter.

Jaune blinked. He hadn't even seen her move.

Unfortunately, Nora made sure to make up for that on the next play. The moment Jaune let his guard down, she hurled the ball like a missile—smacking him square in the face with a thock.

He went down.

Nora laughed from the other side of the court, and the gym teacher shouted them both out of bounds.

As he sat on the bench rubbing his nose, Jaune couldn't help but glance at Pyrrha again. She was back on the court, light on her feet and focused. Inhumanly good.

The match wrapped soon after, and while the other students moved to put the balls away, grab water, or sit down and cool off, Jaune drifted toward her.

"Hey," he said, walking up beside her. "So… you're really good at this stuff."

Pyrrha tilted her head, a faint question in her expression. "At dodgeball?"

"Well, yeah. But I meant just... in general." He gestured vaguely back toward the court. "You move like you've been doing this forever."

She blinked at him—just once—before a look of realization lit up her face. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a second, she looked almost thrilled. Like someone had just told her the best news of the day.

"I—thank you," she said, voice a little higher than before. "I guess I've trained a lot over the years."

Before Jaune could ask what that meant, a sharp voice cut in.

"She's not just 'trained a lot,'" Weiss said, stepping into the conversation like she'd been waiting for her cue. Her tone was dry but pointed. "Pyrrha's a teenage champion in Mistral's mixed martial arts league. Three-time Kingdom Tournament winner. Her athletic prowess is second to none."

Jaune turned to look at her, blinking. "Wait, seriously?"

Pyrrha's posture shifted subtly. Her smile stayed, but her shoulders drew just a touch tighter. "Weiss…"

"What?" Weiss shrugged. "He asked."

Jaune looked between them. "That's… okay, yeah. That explains a lot."

Pyrrha glanced away, clearly hoping he wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

He didn't.

"I mean, that's really cool," Jaune said instead, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I kinda had a feeling I'd seen you before. Guess I must've seen a match highlight or something."

Weiss snorted. "Unlikely. You probably just eat a lot of cereal."

Jaune frowned. "What?"

"She's the face of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes," Weiss said flatly.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Jaune's eyes went wide. "That's where I know you from! The redhead on the box!"

Pyrrha groaned softly.

"I used to eat that stuff all the time, though... well they aren't very healthy, I suppose." he said with a small laugh. "Didn't even realize it was a real person."

"Unfortunately, yes," Pyrrha murmured, but she didn't seem too upset about it. If anything, she looked quietly amused.

"Wow," Jaune said. "Martial arts champ and a cereal mascot. That's… pretty cool."

She tilted her head, smile growing just a little more genuine. "Thanks."

Jaune chuckled and asked a few more casual questions—what kind of martial arts, how long she'd been training, that sort of thing. She answered patiently, even cheerfully. Weiss, on the other hand, looked increasingly annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

Eventually, he gave them both a small wave and excused himself to grab water.

As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Pyrrha was still smiling. And not the fake one either.

It was something else entirely.

Jaune wandered over to where Ruby, Yang, Nora, and Ren had regrouped near the wall of the gym, all of them sweaty, red-faced, and grinning after the last round. He rubbed the sore spot on his face again, but the sting was already fading.

"Heya Jauney," Yang smirked, tossing him a bottle of water. "Nice face-catch back there. That was some premium defense."

Nora leaned over and grinned. "Ten outta ten on the impact! You absorbed that ball like a champ!"

Jaune groaned but caught the bottle. "I swear she had it out for me."

"She had it on you," Yang added with a wink. "Right on your face."

Ruby let out a groan. "Yang, no. That's not even a pun. That's just a statement."

"Fine," Yang said with a playful shrug. "Guess Jaune really dodged a win today."

Everyone groaned.

Jaune buried his face in his hands. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

Ren, who'd remained quiet up until now, gave him a small, dry smile. "Not a chance."

Despite himself, Jaune laughed along with the rest of them. The ribbing was light and the atmosphere was easy.

Jaune almost couldn't believe that this was the type of interactions he had been missing out on at his previous school.

He really should have put in more effort to make friends.

He sipped his water and put the thought out of his mind. He glanced toward the other end of the gym where Pyrrha was chatting with a few other students.

"Hey," he said, tilting his head, "did you guys know Pyrrha Nikos is, like… a famous fighter? Champion, tournaments, cereal boxes—the whole thing?"

There was a brief pause, where the others shared a quick glance.

"Yeah," Ruby said, nodding. "She's kind of a big deal back in Mistral."

"I watched one of her final matches online," Yang added, stretching her arms overhead. "She wiped the floor with her opponent. She's, scary good."

Nora nodded enthusiastically. "She's suuuper famous. Ren and I have posters of her when she was still rising up the brackets. The one with her spinning kick is legendary."

Jaune blinked. "Okay, so… I'm just the last to know, huh?"

"Pretty much," Ren said.

"Well, no one told me," Jaune muttered, mock-indignant.

Yang clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "That's because you were too busy being flattened to do your research."

Jaune chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I see how it is."

They lingered in the gym for a while longer as class wound down, chatting idly while students trickled out in groups. A few last-minute games wrapped up on the side courts, and the PE teacher called final dismissal shortly after.

The rest of the day blurred in a haze of tired legs, sore muscles, and mental drifting. The warm-down exercises weren't too bad, and the brief lectures about physical health and sports history were mercifully short. They were in the clear by the time the final bell rang.

And with that, the school day ended—just a little earlier than usual, as was the Friday custom.