Relic of the Future: Chapter 6

Luckily, he knew Qrow's combat style, both from watching the man fight and sparring with him numerous times. The moment the bout began, Qrow would bait him in with some taunt, taking a defensive stance and waiting for an opening to—

"Begin!" Raven called.

Qrow rocketed forwards with a roar.

Jaune's eyes had a moment to widen in shock before he backpedalled, catching Qrow's sword on his at the last second and knocking it aside. The huntsman pushed forward and used both hands to force Jaune back, hurling him away. Jaune landed hard, stumbled on one leg, but ignored it as he parried the next attack, Qrow attacking with blistering speed and aggression.

Too much so! Qrow was faster and stronger than he had been before, now in his prime and more than willing to use that to his advantage. Jaune found himself pressed before he could realise it, falling back under a withering hail of blows. It was all he could do to parry and try to put distance between them. Sweat beaded on his brow as he flicked another thrust aside, and took the chance to counter-attack, knocking Qrow back and giving himself some space to think.

This was madness. This wasn't how Qrow fought – not at all. Jaune ducked under a wide swing and slipped under the man's guard, coming up behind him but leaping back when Qrow spun and cut down towards him. The constant assault was so bizarre that he had no idea what to do. Qrow was quick and strong, but had always been something of a strange combatant. He wasn't a strategist by any means, but he fought cautiously, using the terrain and every trick in the book to overwhelm his foe with brutal efficiency.

He was not a male version of Yang Xiao-Long, replete with grunts on every attack, laughter whenever he knocked Jaune back, and a mocking smirk. And yet that was what he found himself facing. This was a Qrow in his prime, though as Jaune quickly realised, it was Qrow's his physical prime, not mental.

"What's the matter?" Qrow taunted. "Is that thing an ornament or are you going to swing it?"

"There's time for talk in a fight, but only in very specific circumstances," a more grizzled and guarded Qrow had told him. "If you need to stall, fine, but in all other cases the one who talks the loudest is the one who isn't paying attention. Don't be that idiot."

They'd all been like that once, not only him but Yang, Ruby and Nora, all. They'd learned better as they grew older, only talking to shout out commands or warnings to one another. Was it possible Qrow hadn't learned that yet?

It looked like Qrow's lesson in the future had been built on personal experience.

"Nothing to say?" Qrow mocked.

There really was nothing, so Jaune leapt in and sent a probing attack for Qrow's left side. The man's blade parried his with ease, knocking it aside with a sharp bark of laughter. He cut inward, aiming for Jaune's throat, but a tilt of his body gave it nothing but air. In turn, he slipped in and drove the pommel of Crocea Mors into the side of Qrow's ribs, and then used his own weight to push the man back.

As much as it irked him to admit it, Qrow had the advantage when it came to a typical fight, even with Jaune knowing the man's fighting style, and Qrow being ten years younger than he had before. Still, there were some small differences and it was one of those Jaune decided to place his faith in. As he rammed the man, and before they parted, Jaune let go of Crocea Mors with one hand and sent it crashing into Qrow's face. It caught him in the jaw and knocked his head back, for once cutting off that smirk as Qrow bit his own tongue.

The bandits cheered wildly, deciding Jaune was the better one to support even though Qrow had once been a part of the tribe.

To Qrow's credit, the blow barely fazed him. He staggered back, warding his sword before him to prevent a follow-up. Once there was a little distance between them, he reached up with one hand to test his jaw, wincing.

"Tch," he said, spitting a little blood to the side. "Cheap shot."

Had it been any other situation, Jaune might have fainted. Cheap shot? Cheap shot!? This was a fight. Not only did anything go, but the one he'd learned that technique from was the person currently insulting it. Hell, he'd only learned it from Qrow because the asshole kept using it on him. There were only so many times you could be punched in the face before you had it down by memory.

This really wasn't Qrow at all, was it?

Or it was, but it was different. The physical factors were there, but he'd not counted for the other parts – the ten years difference between the man who stood before him and the man he'd meet at Beacon. He'd expected things to be different, that maybe Qrow would be a little weaker, but by this much? No, not weaker. Less refined. Qrow's strength and speed was ridiculous, as was his skill, but the huntsman was somehow less tempered. He didn't have that wary edge that gave Qrow the advantage; that constant caution that spoke of a man who'd been through hell and learned to expect it at every moment.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps this Qrow just hadn't been through enough. But what could have changed in just ten years to turn a man from the sober huntsman before him, who resembled Yang at her best, to a jaded and paranoid shell of a man willing to give his life for Ozpin? Something big, that much was for sure.

Their blades crashed together again, Jaune giving ground as he parried each attack, keeping his sword central to his body and refusing to take any of the gaps Qrow left him. In the future, those would have been traps, and a part of him still saw them as such and feared Qrow getting the upper hand. The worst part was that given by Qrow's savagery and lack of guard, they really weren't traps at all. Qrow really did have gaps in his defence.

It was on the next pass that Jaune decided to test one. Qrow's attack came in high and clashed off his sword, but Jaune ducked low, stepped under and rammed his shoulder into Qrow's gut. With their swords locked above them, he drove the huntsman forward and let go, tossing him a few feet. Though Qrow managed to land, it was awkward and clumsy, and that left him unable to properly defend when Jaune slashed down with a two-handed blow.

Qrow tried nonetheless but his footing wasn't there. He managed to deflect it but flew back, falling on his ass before he rolled away and staggered back up. As the crowd jeered and laughed, Qrow's cheeks tinted.

"Alright, so you're no mere bandit. I guess I'll have to take you seriously."

"A real huntsman always takes his foe seriously," Jaune said, breaking his own rule to speak. He couldn't help it, though. Qrow's words felt like a personal insult to his own teacher, as ironic as that sounded since he meant Qrow himself.

The older Qrow wouldn't have taken someone anything less than seriously, no matter who they were or what they looked like.

"Oh, the bandit thinks he knows something about being a huntsman?" Qrow mocked, fighting to regain what confidence he'd lost. "That's cute. I'll have you know I graduated from Beacon Academy, the best academy in all of Remnant. I'm one of the strongest huntsmen in Vale."

He was, and to be fair if this were a fair fight of Beacon-sanctioned spar, Qrow would have won easily. The problem was his attitude though, and the fact that Jaune had been trained to ignore things like honour and fair play and seek victory wherever he could. Like Qrow said, the older one that was, the only thing that mattered in a fight was winning. And seeing this Qrow stood before him with a cocky smirk and a lackadaisical attitude?

It was honestly a little disappointing.

Jaune went on the attack suddenly, closing the distance between them and lashing out with wide and heavy blows, forcing the huntsman onto the defensive. He'd always been more of an endurance fighter himself, never quite capable of the graceful techniques Pyrrha had tried to impart. He'd learned them as best he could, but flips had to be traded for rolls and snap-kicks for shoulder-charges.

Pyrrha was one of a kind while he was just one of many, but that didn't mean he hadn't picked up a few tricks, and as he pushed Qrow back toward the crowd, it was one such he employed. With a mighty crash, he knocked Qrow's sword wide, but also allowed his own to over-extend, providing an opening. Qrow saw it, and like the aggressive fighter he'd never really been, couldn't hold back from taking advantage, lunging in.

Jaune's knees hit the dirt, along with his shoulder and body, watching Qrow sail by overhead, wide-eyed at his opponent's sudden dive. As Qrow stumbled over him, Jaune scraped up a healthy pile of dust and pebbles and threw them in Qrow's face.

"Arghhh!" Qrow staggered back with one hand clutched to his face, trying to wipe the debris from his eyes. He cried out again when Jaune's leg swept around, catching him in the back of the shin and sweeping his foot away. Qrow fell hard and tried to roll away.

But Jaune was on him before he could. One hand grappled with Qrow's sword, wrenching it from his grasp and tossing it away, while his other – too close to use his own – instead hammered down with the pommel, striking Qrow in the neck with a blow that left him gasping for breath.

With a grunt and a final kick to the groin - just to make sure he stayed down - Jaune scrabbled off and pointed his blade down to tickle Qrow's throat. "You've lost," he panted. "Yield."

In the end, Qrow hadn't fired off a single shot, nor revealed his weapon as a mecha-shift. He'd not had the chance on account of how he didn't take Jaune seriously, relying on what he believed to be a natural advantage in skill and ability. Raw skill and talent wasn't everything, however. It worked to a degree, but there was always a way for the weaker combatant to eke out an advantage. It all depended on how hard they were willing to train… or how low they were prepared to go in his case. Puling hair, low blows, dirt in the eyes, ambushes, the man he knew as Qrow had taught him and his friends all of that and more.

But the Qrow beneath him hadn't realised that yet. Had he, the fight might - would - have gone a different way.

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 6