Jaune's Resolve

6 - Depth

Beside him, Ren's writing was precise and quick. Pyrrha, too, had already scribbled out a short solution. But neither looked smug. They worked quietly, respectfully. Pyrrha even cast a glance toward Jaune's notes, offering a small, encouraging smile.

He returned it with a nod, then kept going.

Doctor Theodore walked the aisles slowly, scanning heads like a hawk. His white coat trailed behind him, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to the elbow. A scientist first, and a teacher second, Theodore was always more interested in effort than perfection.

He stopped near Jaune's row.

"Jaune Arc."

Jaune blinked, lifting his head.

"Tell me—what's the result of the transformation?"

Jaune paused.

His heart beat a little faster.

He looked down at his notes. He'd tried multiplying the matrix with the vector like the textbook explained—but the answer didn't feel quite right. Still, he looked back up and said:

"Uh... I think it would become... (4, 7)?"

Theodore's eyebrow lifted—but not in judgment.

"Not quite. You're off by a value in the second dimension. But your process?" He gestured toward Jaune's half-solved equation. "Closer than most of the class. Not bad."

Jaune exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Keep working through it," Theodore said, already moving on. "And next time, don't hesitate. Even wrong answers are better than silence."

Jaune gave a tired, sheepish grin. "Yes, sir."

He went back to the page with renewed focus.

It wasn't easy. Nothing about it was. But it was possible. And for someone who had seen the worst the world had to offer—Geists in the mines of Mantle, flying Leviathans, Salem's armies—math wasn't scary anymore.

Difficult, yes... But not impossible.

A quiet pride crept into his chest as he kept working. Every scribble, every misstep, every corrected number was progress. And across the row, Pyrrha glanced at his notes again.

"You're getting faster," Pyrrha whispered, her voice tinged with encouragement and something a little softer—almost conspiratorial.

Jaune gave a half-shrug, keeping his eyes on the equation he'd just scribbled into his notebook. "Guess even numbers are scared of me now."

She let out a quiet laugh—gentle, genuine—and Jaune allowed himself a small smile. It wasn't much. But it was real.

Just above them, Weiss Schnee glanced down from her seat at the curve of the amphitheater-like classroom.

Her gaze lingered on Jaune for a moment longer than usual. She watched him flip the page of his notebook, still scribbling, still focused.

Weiss blinked and turned her eyes back to her own notes, brushing the thought aside like a fleck of dust on silk.

Next Class

Sunlight spilled through the glass walls of the greenhouse, catching on dew-covered leaves and casting a golden shimmer across the rows of soil beds and hanging planters.

Crimson sap jars—they've gathered the last day—lined a wooden table, each glinting faintly red under the glass dome roof.

Professor Peach stood at the front, her pink lab coat swishing slightly as she turned with two jars in hand—each filled with the glowing, viscous sap.