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How to be the Wrong Jaune in the Harem Pt. 2
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 01:26:19 +0000 UTCHow to Be the Wrong Jaune in the Right Harem Part 2: Jaune/Harem- While Jaune panics in a mansion full of amorous friends and a gender-bent Ren, his alternate self is having the time of his life back at Beacon Academy. Convinced he's experiencing a vivid dream of his school days, Alt- Jaune decides to throw caution to the wind and cause delightful chaos. From brazenly flirting with Goodwitch to casually revealing future events as "wild guesses."
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Dr. Oobleck was zooming around the classroom at his usual impossible speed, coffee mug in hand, lecturing more topics related to the Great War, when Jaune raised his hand with a smirk. It felt nostalgic seeing the green-haired professor in his disheveled state, especially after knowing him as the composed and calm gentleman he became much later.
“Yes! Mr. Arc! Most unusual for you to participate! Do proceed!” Oobleck appeared instantly before his desk.
“I was wondering, Doctor,” Jaune began, emphasizing the title correctly, which made Oobleck’s eyebrows rise above his opaque glasses. “About the legends predating the Great War. Specifically, about the supposed existence of the Brother Gods and their connection to the creation of dust.”
The entire classroom went silent. Even Weiss, who had been diligently taking notes, looked up in surprise at the depth of his question.
“Interesting! Most interesting!” Oobleck zipped to his board, chalk flying. “The Brother Gods are indeed considered a mere myth by most modern scholars, but there are fascinating archaeological findings that suggest-“ He paused mid-sentence, turning to Jaune. “How did you come across this particular topic, Mr. Arc?”
“Well,” Jaune leaned back, enjoying himself immensely, “I was reading about the ancient temples in Vacuo, and how their architectural design seems to reflect a dual worship system. Two gods, two opposing forces - creation and destruction. Seems too specific to be just coincidence, doesn’t it?”
Oobleck’s glasses glinted as he began frantically writing on the board, muttering rapidly to himself. “Yes... yes! The symmetrical design... the opposing elements... correlations with early dust discoveries...”
Jaune saw from the corner of his eye Ruby leaned over to whisper something to Blake.
“The same evidence appears in Mistral’s oldest ruins,” Jaune continued, knowing exactly which buttons to push. “Particularly in the deeper chambers that haven’t been fully explored. Some even say there are relics-” he paused for dramatic effect, watching Oobleck’s chalk freeze mid-stroke.
“Relics, you say?” Oobleck’s voice had lost its usual rapid-fire delivery, becoming almost cautious.
“Just theories, of course,” Jaune added innocently, though he was having far too much fun watching the usually composed professor practically vibrate with barely contained excitement and concern.
By now the board was covered in Oobleck’s frantic notes and connecting lines, looking more like a conspiracy theorist’s wall than a lesson plan. The rest of the class watched in bewilderment as their professor mumbled about “correlating evidence” and “previously unconsidered implications.”
Pyrrha was staring at him with a mixture of amazement and suspicion, while Blake’s bow twitched with obvious interest in the discussion. Even Weiss had stopped writing, her pen hovering uncertainly over her notebook.
“Mr. Arc,” Oobleck finally said, adjusting his glasses. “I believe we should continue this discussion after class. There are some... additional resources you might find interesting.”
Jaune just smiled. “Of course, Doctor. Always eager to learn more about our history. Especially the parts that aren’t in the textbooks.”
The bell rang, and as students began filing out, he could still hear Oobleck muttering to himself, erasing certain parts of his notes with unusual haste. Perhaps he’d pushed a bit too far, but watching the typically hyperactive professor get so flustered had been worth it.
“Since when are you such a history buff, Vomit boy?” Yang asked as they left the classroom.
“Oh, you know,” Jaune shrugged with a mysterious smile, “I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”
Behind them, through the classroom door, they could still hear Oobleck’s rapid mumbling and the sound of chalk frantically scratching against the board.
“Picked up a few things?” Blake’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she approached him. “Those were some very specific details about ancient temples.”
“Just did some light reading,” Jaune replied with an easy smile, enjoying how his vague answers only frustrated them more.
“Light reading? You barely stay awake during study sessions!” Nora bounced around him. “What’s next? You secretly know how to dance? Cook? Gardening?”
Yes, yes, and yes.
“A man’s got to have some mysteries, right?” He winked, causing Pyrrha to nearly trip over her own feet.
As they rounded the corner toward the combat arena, Weiss fell into step beside him, curiosity apparently overwhelming her usual aloofness. “I have to admit, Arc, I’m... impressed. I didn’t expect such academic insight from you.”
“Careful there, Snow Angel,” Jaune turned to her with a knowing smirk, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “Keep complimenting me like that and I might start thinking you’re warming up to me.” He reached out and gently brushed an imaginary speck from her sleeve, his fingers barely grazing her arm. “Though I have to say, you’re particularly lovely when you’re impressed.”
Weiss’s pale cheeks bloomed pink for a brief moment before her eyes widened in indignation. “I- you- the absolute audacity!” She huffed, straightening her already perfect posture. “Don’t think that knowing a few historical facts suddenly makes you-“
“Makes me what?” He raised an eyebrow, still smirking. The old Jaune would have wilted under her glare, but he knew better now. Knew her better.
Before Weiss could respond, they entered the combat arena where Professor Goodwitch stood waiting, her riding crop tapping impatiently against her palm. “Students, take your seats. Today, we’ll be reviewing a fight where the outcome seems decided from the beginning.”
“Saved by the bell,” Yang whispered, nudging a still-flustered Weiss.
Jaune settled into his seat, already anticipating the upcoming matches. Combat class with Glynda - now this would be interesting. His younger self had always dreaded these sessions, but now...
“Our first match will be...” Glynda adjusted her glasses, looking at her scroll. “Jaune Arc versus Cardin Winchester.”
A predatory grin spread across Jaune’s face as he stood up. Oh, this had the potential to be fun and maybe even some payback…But he was better than that, so he simply left to pick up his armor and weapon from the locker.
“Take your positions,” Professor Goodwitch called out, her stern gaze moving between the two competitors. Jaune strode to his spot with casual confidence, quite different from his usual nervous shuffling. Crocea Mors felt much lighter than he remembered, or perhaps he’d just grown so much stronger over the years… Oh right, his sword and shield didn’t have any modifications. They were simple antiques.
Cardin sneered from across the arena, hefting his mace. “Ready to get crushed, Jauney-boy?”
“You know, Cardin,” Jaune replied with an easy smile, “you’re much better than this. Or at least, you will be.”
“What’s that supposed to-“
“Begin!” Glynda’s command cut through the air.
Cardin charged forward with a predictable overhead swing. Jaune sidestepped with fluid grace, deflecting the mace with insulting ease. His shield placement was perfect, each movement calculated and precise - nothing like the clumsy fighter everyone knew.
He could hear gasps and whispers from the stands, but kept his focus on the fight. This was actually fun - each movement designed to make Cardin look increasingly foolish while expending minimal effort himself. Duck under a wild swing, tap Cardin’s exposed knee with the flat of his blade, sidestep another charge.
“Stand still!” Cardin growled, frustration mounting.
“That’s your problem right there,” Jaune commented, parrying another strike. “Too much anger, not enough thinking. You’re stronger than me, Cardin. But strength isn’t everything.”
With a movement that drew more gasps from his classmates, Jaune swept Cardin’s legs out from under him, disarmed him with a precise strike to the wrist, and placed his sword tip at Cardin’s throat.
“The match goes to Jaune Arc,” Glynda announced, her voice carrying a note of surprise.
If he was remembering things correctly, he would be clutching his stomach on the floor while Goodwitch explained every single of his flaws and mistakes to the class while Cardin gloated about his win.
Instead of gloating, Jaune sheathed his sword and extended his hand to Cardin. “You’ve got potential, you know. Real potential. But it’s not about being the strongest or the toughest. It’s about being better - not than others, but than who you were yesterday.”
Cardin stared at the offered hand for a long moment, confusion warring with his usual anger. Finally, he grabbed it, allowing Jaune to pull him up.
“I don’t need your lecture,” Cardin grumbled, but there was less heat in his voice than usual.
“Maybe not,” Jaune shrugged. “But someday you’ll understand what I mean. And when that day comes, you’ll be surprised at who you can become.” And he patted Cardin’s back.
Uh, that actually felt nice.
As he walked back toward the stands, Jaune noticed Professor Goodwitch studying him with an intensity that suggested he might have shown a bit too much skill. The way her eyes narrowed behind her glasses reminded him of the similar looks she’d given him in the future - or was it the past? This dream was getting more confusing by the minute.
“Mr. Arc,” Glynda called out. “A word after class, if you please.”
Jaune just smiled and nodded. He had some explaining to do, but he wasn’t particularly worried. After all, this was just a dream. And it was the perfect opportunity to mess with Glynda.
“That was AMAZING!” Nora practically launched herself at him, hanging off his arm. “Since when could our fearless leader actually be, you know, fearless?!”
“You broke his legs! Well, almost broke his legs! But you could have!” Nora continued bouncing around him with unbridled enthusiasm.
Yang punched his shoulder playfully. “Not bad, lady-killer! Didn’t know you had it in you to actually kill it out there!”
“I always knew you had potential,” Pyrrha added warmly, her green eyes shining with pride. “Your form was exceptional.”
Jaune caught Yang’s lilac eyes with a knowing look, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “You know, Yang, your fighting style is pretty amazing too, you were an inspiration. The way you put your heart into every move...” He stepped closer, voice dropping to a softer tone that only she could hear. “It’s beautiful to watch, especially when you’re truly passionate about something.”
Yang’s usual confident demeanor faltered for a split second, her cheeks tinting pink. It was adorable how the seemingly unshakeable brawler could get flustered by genuine, heartfelt compliments rather than the usual flirting she received.
“I... uh... well...” Yang stumbled over her words, running a hand through her golden hair - a nervous tick he knew well from years of experience. “That’s... thanks?”
“Just stating facts.” he winked, enjoying how her blush deepened. “Though you’re even prettier when you’re being sincere like this.”
“I’m not- I mean- combat class!” Yang suddenly announced, turning on her heel. “We should... pay attention. To class. Yes.”
Nora’s jaw had dropped watching the exchange, while Blake peered over her book with raised eyebrows at her partner’s unusual behavior. Pyrrha was looking between them with a mixture of confusion and something else that made Jaune feel a little guilty about his teasing.
But before he could dwell on it, Professor Goodwitch called the next match, and Yang practically fled to her seat, steadfastly avoiding his gaze while trying to regain her composure.
Jaune settled back into his spot, thoroughly enjoying how this dream was unfolding. Though he had to admit, everyone’s reactions felt remarkably real for a dream. The way Yang had blushed, Pyrrha’s subtle jealousy, even Nora’s exact brand of chaos - it was all too precise, too detailed.
But those were thoughts for later. Right now, he had a meeting with Glynda to look forward to, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to ruffle the composed professor’s feathers a bit.
So combat class passed without much emotion after his fight until the bell rang and everyone got up from their seats and left the room.
As the other students filed out, Jaune approached Glynda’s desk with an easy confidence that only seemed to deepen her frown.
“Mr. Arc, while I appreciate the remarkable improvement in your combat abilities,” she began, adjusting her glasses, “such dramatic changes in just a week’s time are... concerning for a student such as yourself.”
“Oh?” Jaune leaned casually against her desk. “Concerned about shortcuts? Like, say... magic?”
Glynda’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her riding crop. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Mr. Arc.”
“Just saying that there are more mysteries in Remnant than most people realize. Forces beyond simple dust and semblances.” He smiled knowingly. “But I’m sure you and Ozpin know all about that.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “How did you-“
“You know, Professor,” he interrupted smoothly, “you’re quite impressive yourself. The way you maintain such perfect control over your power, your discipline... it’s admirable.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “And the way you carry yourself with such authority - very attractive.“
Glynda’s composed expression cracked for a moment, genuine surprise flickering across her features before her professional mask slammed back into place. “Mr. Arc, this is highly inappropriate-“
“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow, enjoying how flustered she was becoming. “I’ve always appreciated a woman who knows exactly what she wants. Someone strong, capable, commanding...”
“Detention!” Glynda snapped, a slight flush rising to her cheeks despite her stern expression. “Tomorrow evening, Mr. Arc!”
“Time alone with you?” Jaune grinned, pushing himself off her desk. “I look forward to it. Maybe we can discuss more about those mysteries of Remnant... or perhaps something more on the personal level?”
“Out!” She pointed at the door, her riding crop crackling with barely contained energy. “Before I make it, a week’s worth of detention!”
“Until tomorrow then, Professor,” he gave her a small bow, far too elegant for his usual self. “I’ll make sure to bring coffee. I hear you prefer it with just a touch of cream, no sugar.”
The sound of Glynda’s frustrated growl followed him out of the classroom, along with what might have been a desk being slammed back into place with telekinetic force.
Jaune chuckled to himself as he walked away. His older self would probably have had a heart attack by now. He used to be very scared of Glynda, but this was just hilarious to pass up. And while this was a dream, he wouldn’t really pursue anything with this dream version of the mature woman. He loved his girlfriends after all.
Though he had to admit, that flush on her cheeks had been surprisingly authentic for a dream…
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Meanwhile….
Jaune groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. His eyes fluttered open, before a hand reaching for his face.
“What a weird dream,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Everyone was in my bed, and Ren was a woman...” He let out a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the bizarre images. Or how soft they were…
But as his hands dropped from his face, the laughter died in his throat. The same massive bed stretched out before him, the same luxurious sheets tangled around his legs. His eyes darted to his own body - more toned than he remembered, a few faint scars he didn’t recognize marking his chest.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, panic rising in his chest. His gaze swept across the room - the same elegant furniture, the heavy velvet curtains, the massive windows letting in morning light. This wasn’t his dorm room. This wasn’t Beacon. This was...
Movement caught his eye - a piece of paper on the pillow next to him. With trembling hands, he picked up the note, immediately recognizing Pyrrha’s elegant handwriting:
‘Morning, love! We’re all waiting in the kitchen for breakfast. Don’t sleep in too late or Nora might eat all the pancakes again. Though I’m sure Ren made extra just for you.
♥ - Pyrrha’
“This can’t be happening,” his voice cracked as he scrambled to sit up, heart hammering against his chest. “This has to be another dream. Or a nightmare. Or- or-“
The empty bed suddenly felt massive and alien, the room too large, too ornate, too everything. His mind raced with questions he couldn’t answer. How had he gotten here? Why was he in this mansion? And why did Pyrrha’s note sound so... intimate?
“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” he repeated the mantra, trying to keep his rising panic attack at bay. But the evidence was undeniable - this wasn’t a dream, and he had no idea how to handle any of it.
They were waiting for him. They’d expect him to know what was going on, to act like... like whatever version of himself belonged in this reality. And he had absolutely no clue what to do.
Jaune Arc, the awkward kid who’d faked his way into Beacon, was now apparently living in some sort of mansion with all his friends as... as what, exactly?
He soon noticed how his breathing grew more ragged as the implications started sinking in.
What in the name of the gods had he gotten himself into?
Jaune stumbled out of bed, his legs tangling briefly in the luxurious sheets. “Okay, okay, just... clear your head,” he muttered, lightly smacking his cheeks with both hands. “This is fine. Everything is fine. Totally fine.”
His bare feet sank into plush carpet as he made his way to the full-length mirror mounted on what appeared to be a walk-in closet door. The reflection that greeted him made him freeze mid-step.
“Whoa...”
The person staring back at him was... well, him, but different. Taller, broader shouldered, with more defined muscles and a few scattered scars that somehow didn’t detract from his appearance. His hair was longer, tied back in a short ponytail that actually looked... pretty good? Really good, actually. He turned his head slightly, examining the new look.
“Focus, Jaune!” he scolded his reflection, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. You can do this. Just like those confidence exercises.”
He squared his shoulders, trying to channel some of the confidence this older version of himself seemed to possess. “I am Jaune Arc. I can handle this. I can totally handle this.” His voice wavered slightly. He tried again, stronger this time.
“I am Jaune Arc. I can handle this situation.” Another deep breath. “I will go down there, and I will... somehow... deal with whatever is happening.” His reflection didn’t look convinced.
“I am Jaune Arc, and I will not freak out about apparently living in a mansion with all my friends.” His voice cracked slightly. “I will not panic about Ren being a woman.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “I will definitely not lose it over Pyrrha calling me ‘love’ in her note.”
He gripped the edges of the mirror, leaning closer. “I am Jaune Arc, and I can do this. I can do this. I can absolutely do this.” He repeated the mantra several times, each iteration slightly more desperate than the last.
His reflection, annoyingly handsome and mature looking, stared back at him, unconvinced. “Who am I kidding? I can’t do this! I can barely handle regular school life! How am I supposed to handle...” he gestured wildly at everything around him, “...whatever this is?!”
The sound of distant laughter drifted up from somewhere below, making him jump. They were waiting for him. All of them. Expecting him to be... whoever this version of him was supposed to be.
“I am Jaune Arc,” he tried one last time, weakly, “and I am so, so screwed.”
Jaune’s shoulders slumped in defeat before he caught himself. “No,” he straightened up, thumping his chest once. “I’m an Arc, and Arcs don’t give up. We... we figure things out. Somehow.”
He snatched the white button-up shirt draped over a nearby chair, pulling it on but leaving it mostly unbuttoned. At least that seemed like something this more confident version of himself might do. Probably.
The walk to the kitchen felt like a march to execution, but he forced himself forward, following the sounds of cheerful conversation and the smell of breakfast. With each step, he tried to channel some of that Arc family confidence his father was always going on about.
Taking one final deep breath, he stepped into the doorway of what turned out to be an impressively large kitchen. Everyone was there, gathered around a massive island counter, and - yep, Ren was definitely female, wearing a tight green apron, expertly flipping pancakes while Nora practically vibrated beside her.
Before his courage could desert him entirely, Jaune leaned against the doorframe in what he hoped was a casual pose and blurted out, “Hey there, snow angel! Are you from Atlas? Because you’ve got me freezing in my tracks!”
There was a moment of silence before Yang burst out laughing, nearly choking on her coffee. “Oh my gods, he’s bringing back the old classics!”
“Remember when he used to use those terrible lines all the time at Beacon?” Ruby giggled, reaching for another pancake.
“Hey!” Jaune protested automatically, though his mind was racing. They remembered his awful pickup lines? From Beacon?
“Feeling nostalgic this morning, love?” Pyrrha asked with fond amusement, patting the empty seat beside her.
“I think it’s sweet,” Female-Ren commented with a soft smile that made Jaune’s brain short-circuit slightly. “Though perhaps not as sweet as these pancakes.”
“Nothing’s as sweet as Renny’s pancakes!” Nora declared, already demolishing another stack with her hands.
Weiss just rolled her eyes, but there was an affectionate quality to it that Jaune had never seen directed at him before. “Some things never change, do they?”
“Nope!” Yang grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Though I gotta say, lover boy, your delivery’s gotten way better since Beacon. Remember when you’d practically stutter through those lines?”
Jaune managed a weak laugh, making his way to the offered seat. “Yeah, well... you know me! Always full of... surprises?”
Blake peered at him over her book - some things really didn’t change - with a knowing look that made him wonder if she could somehow tell something was off.
But before he could worry too much about that, a plate of pancakes appeared in front of him, served by Ren before landing a gentle kiss on the top of his head… Wait, was his/her name still Lie Ren?
Either way, Jaune decided that maybe having a minor existential crisis could wait until after breakfast.
At least they seemed happy with his awful pickup line.
Maybe he could do this.
