RWBY: LUCID

The end of History class came with a dramatic flick of Oobleck's wrist and the chaotic flurry of digital notes auto-saving to each student's device.

"Remember!" he shouted over the rising chatter. "Essay on pre-kingdom infrastructure due by next week! Bonus points if you cite at least three catastrophically avoidable disasters!"

With that, he spun toward his desk, downed the last of his thermos, and began furiously typing notes into his holo-tablet, likely for another lecture no one had asked for but would still receive tomorrow.

Jaune stretched his fingers and slumped back in his seat, blinking at the mess of timelines he'd tried to keep up with.

Yang, completely unfazed, leaned over and slid a copy of her notes onto his tablet with a quick sync.

"Here. My masterpiece," she said, smirking. "I've got the whole two weeks of Oobleck lectures under my belt. You'll get used to the speed."

"You're a lifesaver," Jaune muttered, glancing through her clean, color-coded structure. She had bullet points. And footnotes.

Then she frowned. "Wait a second. I don't even have your number."

Jaune blinked. "Oh. Right, yeah. Here." He quickly brought up his phone and bumped it gently against hers, trading contact info in a small flash of light.

And despite knowing full well it wasn't anything romantic, a flutter of nerves stirred in his chest. He was still a teenager and wired a certain way. Yang's confident grin and relaxed posture made her seem effortlessly cool, and when she smiled—really smiled—it had a way of drawing attention.

His eyes flicked, just briefly, toward her lips.

'Focus,' he told himself, cheeks warming.

Yang slung her bag over her shoulder and nodded toward the hallway. "C'mon. Chem's in Building A."

They stepped out into the morning light, the campus buzzing with the noise of changing classes. Beacon's central courtyard was busy but not overwhelming. Students filtered between buildings in all directions, laughter mixing with the soft whir of scrolls and the occasional burst of song from someone's earbuds.

The sky above was a bright blue, cloudless and warm. 

Yang fell into step beside him, walking with the easy confidence of a girl who knew she was hot.

"So," she said, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, "how's Beacon treating you so far?"

"Besides getting history-whiplash and fighting the urge to bolt yesterday? Pretty great."

She laughed. "That's the spirit. You survive week one, you're golden."

They passed a bulletin board pinned with flyers—clubs, tutoring, campus announcements. One had bold red letters advertising the volleyball team's latest win over another school.

"Did you know Beacon's volleyball team just wiped the floor with Torch last month?" Yang said, tilting her head toward the poster. "Straight sets. Super brutal win. I heard they didn't even break a sweat."

"You play?"

"Nah. I like watching, though. It's fun seeing people launch six feet in the air to spike stuff. Plus, good team spirit. Better than the track team, anyway."

They rounded a corner and passed under an arch lined with vine-covered stone, a cool breeze slipping past as they stepped between buildings.

"So, are you in any clubs?" Jaune asked.

Yang shrugged and gave him a grin. "Kinda. It's a school-funded thing. Special invite only."

He raised a brow. "What kind of club is that?"

"Eh," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's not really that interesting. Mostly research into dreams and stuff."

"Dreams?" Jaune questioned, slightly curious now. "How exactly do you research dreams?"

"We mostly record people's dream experiences and try to catalogue them into different categories. Got a whole chart and everything. It's interesting… but kind of boring, too. The headmaster personally chooses the students who he wants joining. Its technically considered a club but more-so a school-funded project of sorts."

Jaune wanted to ask more, but before he could, they crossed into the broad shadow of Building A. Its architecture stood apart from the gothic spires of the older wings—modern and sleek, all glass and gleaming metal that caught the morning sun and mirrored the treetops.

Yang pushed the door open and held it for him.

Jaune stepped through, filing the conversation away for later.

Still, the idea of clubs was quite interesting. Especially Yang's club/project.

If they really studied dreams… what would they think of his?

He could still remember every detail. And no matter how much he tried to dismiss it—it hadn't felt like a dream at all.

He pushed away those thoughts as he entered the chemistry classroom.

Chemistry class was held in a high-ceilinged lab room filled with long counters, burners, and sealed cupboards lining the walls. The air carried a faint yet distinguishable smell of chemical tang. Ethanol, possibly. Or a cleaning agent.

Jaune followed Yang to a seat near the middle, setting his bag down with a small sigh. A glance around the room confirmed something familiar.

That orange bobbing ponytail was unmistakable.

The hyperactive girl from the train, the one who practically radiated sugar and sparks, had claimed a seat near the front. She was kicking her feet under the desk, humming a tune, and grinning at nothing in particular. Right beside her, the boy with the pink-streaked hair sat with his arms folded, posture relaxed but alert. His gaze scanned the setup at the front of the room with quiet focus, though his eyes never seem to drift too far away from the girl.

Almost as if he was afraid she would start juggling the beakers in front of them.

Jaune leaned closer to Yang, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Hey, those two. From last class. Who are they?"

Yang blinked, then squinted toward the pair. "Oh! Right. That's Nora." She gestured subtly to the orange-haired girl. "And the guy next to her is Lie Ren."

'Huh... and here I thought his name was Renny.' Jaune mused.

"Wait—like 'lion'?"

"No, it's pronounced 'Lee Ren, although...nice pun.'" Yang smirked, then leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Rumor is they're dating, but they'll never admit it out loud. Totally inseparable, though."

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Yang nodded seriously, then added with a hint of scandal in her voice, "And get this… they're also supposedly living together. In the same house."

She widened her eyes for effect.

Jaune blinked, not because of the news—but because Yang's cheeks had gone a bit red. Her confident smirk switched into lip chewing, and there was a suspicious tension in her voice, like she was navigating unfamiliar territory.

He looked at her sideways. 'Wait… is she blushing?'

The dots connected.

'No way… Is Yang secretly kind of innocent?'

He barely managed to smother the laugh that surged up in his throat. The idea of Yang Xiao Long, who seemed like confidence galore, being flustered by a living arrangement was… kind of hilarious.

She caught his grin and squinted at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Jaune said, coughing into his fist, trying very hard not to smile too wide.

Thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of the professor—a short, gray-haired woman in a crisp lab coat who stepped briskly into the room. She set a digital clipboard on her desk and clapped her hands once, sharp and loud.

"Partner assignments are randomized by the system. No trades. No negotiations. Yes, I know some of you had 'plans.' Life is disappointment. Get used to it."

Some students looked at each other before shrugging in disappointment..

Jaune, meanwhile, leaned slightly toward Yang. "Here's hoping we get paired up."

Yang squinted at him, suspiciously. "You just want my notes again."

"Guilty."

The professor began listing off names. "Blake Belladonna and Cardin Winchester. Hm. Interesting."

A groan somewhere in the back.

Jaune turned to see a beautiful black haired girl with a slender yet very fit physique sighing in disappointment at her choice in partner. She had a very stylish black and white outfit, that wrapped around her curves in a flattering fashion.

Jaune was surprised that he hadn't noticed her in the room, given her looks. Perhaps she was a natural ninja?

"Lie Ren and Sky Lark."

Jaune turned back and noticed a flicker of disappointment and horror pass across Nora's face.

There was a beat of silence before Nora let out a dramatic, "Noooooo!" that echoed off the lab walls.

The teacher continued on uncaring of Nora's cries.

"Jaune Arc and Nora Valkyrie."

Ren sighed quietly, then reached out and patted her head without looking, like it was routine. He stood and moved off to find his partner.

Yang snorted beside Jaune and leaned in to whisper, "My condolences."

"Huh?" he said, puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave him an evil little grin and clapped a hand on his back with mock sympathy. "You'll see. Stay strong, soldier."

He frowned slightly but didn't have time to reply because Ren, on his way past, gave Jaune a glance. A subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he gave a slow, solemn nod.

That… wasn't reassuring.

Then came a sudden presence behind Jaune.

He barely turned before—

"Hi!" chirped a bubbly voice much too close to his ear. "I'm Nora Valkyrie, your lab partner, chemical comrade, and best buddy for the next hour! What's your name? Wait—don't tell me. Is it… Gary?"

"Uh, no. It's Jaune," he said, blinking at her sudden proximity. "Jaune Arc."

"Jaune! Ooh, that's fancy. Very knightly. Are you secretly royalty? Do you have any long-lost siblings? Wait—do you own a suit of armor?"

"Uh… not right now?"

She gasped like that was somehow tragic.

"What's your favorite food? Mine's pancakes. With syrup and whipped cream and fruit and more syrup. I eat them for breakfast, lunch, and second lunch if I can get away with it."

Jaune struggled to keep up. "I, uh… toast, I guess?"

She made a face. "You poor thing."

He couldn't help but chuckle, despite himself. "I just transferred here from Ansel. So… still figuring stuff out."

Nora's eyes lit up. "Ooh! A small-town mystery boy! What's Ansel like? Do they have bears? Do you ride giant goats through the mountains? Does everyone wear flannel?"

"I mean, technically yes to the flannel, but no goats. Ansel isn't exactly a small town. It's a city. Not a big city, mind you, but a city nonetheless. Lots of bakeries. That kind of thing."

"Ooooh. What kind of bakeries?"

As they found their station, Nora rattled off another barrage of questions while also somehow unpacking lab supplies at a pace that defied logic. Jaune tried to keep up, answering between unpacking and glancing toward the front where the teacher was now projecting instructions onto the board.

"For today," she announced, "we'll be measuring reaction times between compounds using controlled variables. Don't drink anything. Don't inhale anything. Don't make potions."

A pause.

"Yes, I'm looking at you, Miss Valkyrie."

"Yesss ma'am," Nora said sweetly, winking at Jaune. "But we're totally making something that fizzes."

Jaune's brow raised. "Are we?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He wasn't sure if this was chemistry class or a ticking time bomb—but judging by Yang's muffled laugh across the room, this was what she had meant.

He was proven right only minutes later when chemistry class quickly devolved into what could only be described as controlled chaos, which—according to the teacher—was still better than uncontrolled chaos, her words.

Today's experiment was the iodine clock reaction—a fairly simple chemical demonstration that involved mixing clear solutions which, after a few moments, would suddenly turned dark blue. The idea was to teach the concept of reaction rates and the effects of concentration and temperature.

What actually happened was more like a high-stakes game of "Which one will make their solution explode?"

The room buzzed with activity as students got to work, and the results were... mixed.

Some students simply seemed to have a perfect knack for chemistry in general. Precise measurements and careful stirring with damp cloth for cleaning up drips. Those were the ones who had their mixture turned blue exactly on time.

Jaune glanced at Yang and snickered at her slightly more dramatic approach.

"Alright, chemistry! Let's make some magic!" she announced, pouring solutions like she was in the final round of a bartending competition. Her partner, some boy with more gel than sense in his hair, gave her an uncertain look.

She grinned as their solution began to react. "See? Easy."

Then the liquid boiled over with an ominous hiss, turning black and bubbling.

Yang blinked. "Uh…"

"Don't touch it!" the professor called from across the room. "It's not acidic, but it will stain your hands for a long time."

Yang stared at the beaker. "I think it's already judging me."

That cute girl from earlier, Blake, over near the window, barely looked up from her notes. Her partner, a tall, brawny guy who looked like he belonged in a wrestling ring rather than a classroom, was hovering near the ingredients like he was considering adding more of them.

"Cardin please don't," Blake said flatly without even looking.

"Whatever," he muttered, moving his hand back an inch.

Somehow, despite his obvious demeanor and her total disinterest in human interaction, their solution came out perfectly.

Cardin looked impressed. "Hey. We nailed it."

Blake didn't respond. She was already writing a report on the side effects of iodine when heated under stress, in accordance with the instructions on the board.

Lie Ren, Nora's friend meanwhile, was the picture of serenity. His partner, Sky Lark appeared bored and disinterested in the project altogether.

Ren went through the process calmly but looked annoyed at his partner's attitude. The result was a smooth, textbook-perfect reaction. The mixture turned blue just as the timer clicked.

Sky drolled out sarcastically. "Yay, we… did it."

Ren sighed but said nothing in response.

And then there was Jaune and Nora.

Jaune had sworn that he'd followed the instructions. He'd double-checked the quantities and even measured the temperature of the distilled water, making certain to even use the dropper instead of eyeballing it.

And somehow their mixture still fizzled.

Like, actually fizzled.

"What did you do?" he asked Nora, in trepidation, watching their beaker start to foam and wobble.

"I added just a pinch of sparkle powder," Nora said cheerfully.

"There is no sparkle powder..."

Nora shrugged. "Then I have no idea where I got it."

The liquid frothed over the top and suddenly stopped… and solidified into a sort of… translucent jelly.

It seemed to jiggled slightly.

Both of them stared at it.

Jaune leaned closer. "Is it breathing?"

Before either of them could stare at it any longer, the teacher appeared at their table. She took one look at the jello-like mass, sighed long and hard through her nose, and without saying a word, walked away.

Nora beamed. "She loved it."

Jaune wasn't so sure. 

By the end of the class, the air smelled like starch and failure. Some beakers had turned blue, black and even an odd shade of sickly purple which didn't seem to want to scrub off. The teacher said that it would probably have to be discarded."

Jaune packed up his things, still glancing warily at the tiny blob in their beaker.

He wasn't sure what kind of grade he'd earned.

But he was positive that he had failed the experiment.