(AN PLEASE LEAVE SOME COMMENT I WOULD APPRECIATE IT how the story is going)

Boot heels rang in the courtyard below quick, urgent, almost angry. The veranda's lanterns caught bronze-red hair before the figure fully emerged. Pyrrha Nikos combat skirt replaced by travel trousers, green-gold breastplate strapped tight strode up the marble steps like someone in pursuit of a duel, not a conversation.

Ei's gaze sharpened.
Himeko straightened off the column.
Elena slid from the rail, slipping her pen away.
Rias, still lounged, only lifted a brow and sipped her last inch of wine.

Pyrrha reached the veranda edge, chin high, emerald eyes blazing. "Where is Jaune?"

Elena replied lightly, "Our fearless leader is inside, finishing paperwork." A teasing smile. "You could have messaged first."

"Messaging won't suffice," Pyrrha snapped. "I need him. Immediately."

"Need," Rias echoed, voice a silk ribbon hiding a blade. "Strong word, Pyrrha."

"It's not a request."

Himeko's hand slid to her sword's hilt, but Jaune's voice cut through the twilight behind them. "Let her speak."

He stepped from the open French doors, coat unbuttoned, hair still damp from a shower. No armor, no sword just Jaune Arc as he lived between battles.

"Jaune," Pyrrha breathed, relief mixing with steel. Then, louder, "You must return to Beacon. Ozpin needs you. I need you. Alister—"

Jaune's expression shifted at the name stone hardening. "Stop."

Pyrrha advanced anyway. "You were his friend. He's dead, Jaune. Cinder killed him and you could have prevented it if you hadn't abandoned us"

Rias's aura flared scarlet. "Watch your tongue."

"Stay out of this," Pyrrha shot back. "This is between teammates."

"Former," Elena corrected softly. "You forfeited that right."

Pyrrha ignored her. "Ozpin believes Salem will escalate. He's assembling an inner circle people he can trust." Her gaze bored into Jaune's. "He asked me to convince you. He thinks your new... strength could tip the war."

Jaune's eyes flashed. "He doesn't know what I am."

"He knows enough! He knows you're stronger than before." Pyrrha inhaled, voice trembling between plea and command. "We don't have the luxury of pride. We need every blade."

Ei's tone was soft thunder. "Blades at whose command?"

"At Remnant's!" Pyrrha cried. "At his." A finger jabbed east as if Ozpin's tower stood visible beyond the walls. "He fights for every life on this continent."

"And fights with secrets," Himeko muttered. "Secrets that have burned thousands."

Pyrrha turned on her, frustration static-cracking. "You don't know him."

"I do," Jaune said quietly, stepping forward, interposing. "Better than you think. I know he sat back while a teenager bled to make his plan work. I know he let a school crush me because I didn't fit his perfect mold." He spread his hands. "So no, I'm not running back because he tugs the strings."

Rias rose at last slow, regal. "Besides, Salem is not our greatest threat."

Pyrrha's face twisted. "Arrogance. Salem can't be killed we need all up if we can learn to kill her."

Himeko whistled. "Wagers?"

Jaune's voice carried sudden heat. "We have ways, Pyrrha. Ways Ozpin would dismiss as heresy. Ways that don't involve sending children to war." He took a step closer; Pyrrha felt the weight of his presence, Authority caged just behind his sternum. "But tonight isn't about Salem, is it? It's about you."

She recoiled. "This isn't about me."

"It is." Jaune's tone sharpened. "You accepted the Maiden power. You're bound to Ozpin now body and soul. And you want me back to shoulder that weight." He shook his head. "I won't. Not under him."

Pyrrha's composure cracked. "Alister died because Cinder hunted me. I was powerless, Jaune! If you'd stood with us—"

Elena's laugh soft, almost pitying floated across the terrace. "Alister chose to stand between Cinder and you. Blame the murderer, not the man living his life across town."

Himeko added, "Cinder died last night, by the way. Courtesy of Rias." She gestured with a playful flourish. "Justice served."

Pyrrha blinked. "What?"

Rias's crimson gaze met hers cool, imperial. "Dead. Ashes. You're welcome."

For a heartbeat Pyrrha said nothing. Her shoulders sagged a burden lifted yet leaving her unbalanced. Then the anger returned, redirected. "You knew? And you laughed? Alister died and the man who could avenge him stayed home to drink tea!"

Elena's eyes flashed gold. "Jaune turned Vale upside-down to safeguard those Cinder threatened, including your classmates. He owes your grief no apology."

Jaune exhaled slowly, fighting to keep heat from his words. "I do hate Alister but I do mourn for his idiotic death . But you're wrong if you think guilt will chain me to Ozpin's agenda. I will not feed his war with my soul."

Pyrrha's voice shook. "So you leave us to fight alone? You call yourself protector?"

"I protect what I can reach," Jaune answered. "My circle is large but well defined." He motioned to the women beside him. "We guard Vale. We stop Cinder. We'll end Salem when she surfaces. All without Ozpin's leash."

"You can't do it alone," she insisted.

Rias smiled, edges glinting. "Funny. We haven't been alone once."

Pyrrha's gaze swept the quartet, measuring: lightning Empress, l spell–mistress, sword saint. Power radiated from them like heat from a forge.

Her voice cracked. "What are you..."

Jaune shook his head. "Just some powerful people long before me. We just found one another."

Silence.

https://youtu.be/Sf7Cr5dO13E

The sun slipped lower, gilding clouds in blood-orange.

Finally Pyrrha straightened, composure returning like armor clasped around grief. "Very well. But remember this, Jaune Arc: when Salem's armies march, the Council will turn to Beacon. If Vale falls because you stayed hidden—"

Rias barked a laugh. "If Vale falls, it will not be because of him. Tonight proves that."

Pyrrha's eyes shimmered hurt, anger, confusion swirling. She pivoted without another word and strode back down the veranda steps. The courtyard swallowed her footsteps until only the evening birdsong remained.

When the gate clanged in the distance, Himeko whistled low. "That was... spirited."

Elena released a breath she'd been holding. "I almost pity her."

"No," Ei said, pulse of thunder behind the single syllable. "She makes her bed in Ozpin's shadows; let her learn darkness has teeth."

Rias turned to Jaune, brushing a thumb across the frown line between his brows. "You're rattled."

"I'm fine," he muttered automatically then sighed. "I hate yelling at her. We shared years, even if we drifted. But she can't keep chaining me to her regrets."

Rias pressed a kiss to his temple. "She demanded. You answered. End of story."

Elena perched beside them, voice gentler. "We'll tighten patrols tonight. Ozpin may escalate after Pyrrha's report."

Ei nodded. "And the bar?"

Jaune managed a faint smile, tension easing. "We continue as planned. Junior still owes us a ledger."

Himeko twirled her umbrella-sword. "Excellent. I was getting bored."

They turned back to the table, gathering maps and cloaks. The mission ahead suddenly felt lighter: the shadows cast by old grudges had thinned, burned away by truth spoken on a sunset veranda.

As they stepped into the mansion corridor, Jaune glanced back once toward the path Pyrrha had taken. Not in regret. In farewell.

Then he closed the door and went to war against secrets, buoyed by a loyalty that demanded nothing but honesty and a trust that would never again be traded for guilt.

Outside, the lanterns and streetlight flickered on, one by one, painting the courtyard gold unchanged, undisturbed save for a single set of footprints fading where anger had stood, demanding penance from a man who had already chosen a brighter road.

Suddenly someone decided to turn around and give a piece of their mind to Jaune

A warm rose-gold still lingered at the horizon, but twilight was already pooling in the hedgerows when Pyrrha Nikos stormed back through the open iron gate. She looked like a spark flung from a forge hair unravelling, shoulders squared, every stride ringing on the flagstones. Jaune and the four women who loved him had only just stepped inside; her footsteps made them pivot in the foyer archway.

Jaune's features tightened. "Pyrrha, we finished this conversation."

"We finished nothing." Her voice cracked the quiet like a snapped bow-string. She marched to within a sword length of him, armour buckles glinting. "You think you can just close a door and pretend I don't exist? Pretend what you left behind doesn't matter?"

Rias folded her arms, crimson sleeve sliding against her hip. "Lower your tone. You're a guest, not a commander."

"I was his teammate," Pyrrha snapped back. "That outranks any fling"

The courtyard temperature seemed to plummet. Rias's eyes darkened, but she forced a thin smile. "A fling? Sweetheart, Jaune and I share more history in one dawn than you gave him in an entire semester of training sessions and pity smiles."

Elena stepped forward, palms up, voice gentle. "Let's breathe. We can talk without blame-throwing, Pyrrha. We respect what you and Jaune once had—"

"Respect?" Pyrrha laughed a brittle sound. "You respect him by hiding his potential? By nesting around him so he never has to face real stakes?"

Jaune's brows shot upward. "'Real stakes'? Protecting Vale citizens from ambush wasn't real? Saving that child last night wasn't real?"

"Those people should've been Beacon's responsibility!" Pyrrha swung toward him. "Ozpin has an entire defense network huntsmen, students, specialists,..."

"And he let Cinder slip through." Rias's tone cut like a razor. "Let's tally results: Beacon's network nearly lost its CCT tower and a Fall Maiden. Our 'nesting' killed the murderer and kept the street festival from turning into an open grave."

Pyrrha's throat bobbed. Her fists trembled at her sides. "Huntsmen die. It's what we sign up for! And Jaune used to understand that he used to want to be part of something larger than himself. Now he hides behind you. He's not a huntsman anymore he's... he's a..." her eyes flicked from Himeko's poised calm to Elena's soft power to Ei's silent storm, "...a mascot kept on a velvet leash."

Jaune flinched as though struck. Before he could speak, Himeko stepped between them, tone as flat as hammered steel. "You're angry. Grief makes knives out of words. But I warn you draw blood in this house and you answer to me."

Pyrrha's gaze flickered recognition of the quiet swordswoman's reputation yet the fire inside her wouldn't yield. "Funny. All this 'protection'... yet Alister died defending me. Where were you, Jaune? Where were your guardians then?"

Elena inhaled, voice small but firm. "Cinder struck without warning. Jaune can't cover every alley when the city bars him from its networks."

Pyrrha's stare bored into Jaune. "You never even tried."

He swallowed, nostrils flaring. "Stop assigning blame for your loss to me. Alister chose his path. I grieve him, but I did not abandon him."

"You abandoned me. You walked out of Beacon when we needed you most!"

Jaune's patience snapped. "And you slept easy after cheating on the man who bled to impress you! Don't lecture me on abandonment."

Silence detonated. Even the wind stilled.

Pyrrha's face drained of colour. "When did honesty become cruelty to you?"

"When cruelty was all honesty left me," Jaune answered, quieter now, but no softer. "You saw my flaws and decided I'd never grow. These women saw the seeds of who I could be and helped me water them. That is the difference."

Rias placed a hand on his shoulder. "Enough. He owes no justification."

Ei, who had remained silent, finally spoke her words measured thunder. "Pyrrha Nikos: you do not understand us, yet you demean us. You call him less than a man because he stands with equals instead of beneath old idols."

Pyrrha's eyes shimmered anger, grief, disbelief tangling. "I trained him. All his basics footwork, tempo—"

"And then you mocked the stumbles you helped him conquer." Elena's voice held neither anger nor pity, simply fact. "Mentorship without faith is still abandonment."

Pyrrha shook her head, almost pleading. "You twist everything! I'm begging him to fight for humanity. Salem is coming. Magic is real—"

Himeko sheathed her umbrella, the click loud in the hush. "We know. We have contingency, weaponry, and allies outside Beacon's reach. Your war council is obsolete."

"Ridiculous. Ozpin's knowledge predates kingdoms."

"Knowledge unshared is just leverage," Rias said. "And leverage on the backs of students is tyranny by another name."

Tears finally spilled down Pyrrha's cheeks hot, furious. "I don't care what you think of Ozpin. I care that Jaune won't even try to help when the world could burn. You've turned him against us, against duty—"

Jaune stepped forward, voice breaking but resolute. "No. They reminded me that duty begins with respecting myself. I will fight, Pyrrha on my terms. Not as Ozpin's pawn. And not under a captain who'd shame my progress because it didn't come from her hand."

Pyrrha opened her mouth then closed it. Her shoulders sagged, battle fury bleeding into wounded disbelief. "Is that truly how you see me?"

"A piece of me still sees the teammate who tried to help," he admitted, pain in every syllable. "But another piece sees someone who can't bear that I outgrew her expectations. Until you reconcile those selves, we cannot walk the same path."

She wiped her face with a trembling gauntlet. "This isn't over. When Salem attacks, you'll remember this night and pray you'd chosen differently."

Ei's thunder-shadow aura flickered warning. But Jaune merely inclined his head. "I'll remember it as the night I stood firm."

Pyrrha turned away. She walked to the gate, armour glinting in the breath of the courtyard lamps. At the threshold she paused looked back once. Her eyes spoke a thousand regrets, but no words followed. Then she was gone, swallowed by oncoming night.

The women exhaled almost in unison. Lantern light glimmered off unshed tears on Elena's lashes; Rias's shoulders relaxed inch by inch. Himeko rolled her neck, tension popping. Ei closed her eyes, dispersing latent static crackling over the stonework.

Jaune simply stood head bowed, fists unclenching slowly.

Rias brushed hair from his brow. "She struck low."

"And missed," Himeko added. "You did well."

He managed a ghost of a smile. "It still hurts."

Elena slipped her hand into his. "It's allowed to. But hurting doesn't mean doubting."

Ei opened her eyes. "Her grief is loud now. When it quiets, perhaps memory will show her who truly stood when monsters came."

Jaune nodded, weariness washing over him. "We have a bar to visit, don't we?"

Rias's grin returned, sharp yet affectionate. "We do. Junior's drinks won't threaten themselves."

They began gathering cloaks again. At the door Jaune paused, glancing once more toward the empty gate. No anger just resignation, and a whisper of hope that someday Pyrrha Nikos would forgive the man she'd never really seen.

But tonight he walked flanked by women who did.

And for now, that was enough.

Beacon Academy – Sub-Level Briefing Hall
(One floor beneath the Headmaster's office; late afternoon. Tall, lancet windows admit slats of amber light that crawl across slate flooring, then vanish into the long table where two full teams of students wait in uneasy silence.)

Ruby Rose had never been good at sitting still. Her combat boots clicked together under the chair; she laced, unlaced, and re-laced her fingers while glancing from her teammates to the clock on the wall and then back to the silent figure of Professor Ozpin. Yang, perched beside her, rolled one broad shoulder in a languid circle but kept a protective arm draped over Ruby's chair-back. Blake cradled a mug of strong coffee that steamed up her ribbon-framed cheeks, while Weiss sat rigid, gloved hands folded so tight the knuckles blanched.

Across the table sat Team... well, what remained of JNPR. Nora Valkyrie bounced a knee high enough to make her clipboard hop, while Ren sat statue-still, palms flat on the polished surface. Pyrrha Nikos, by contrast, looked carved from red hair tied, new combat jacket buttoned, jaw set like a champion about to step into an arena that only she could see.
At length, Professor Ozpin closed a battered leather folio and set his cane upright. The subtle click in that hush felt like a gavel. Glynda Goodwitch, eyes narrowed behind square spectacles, hovered behind him with a scroll aglow.

Ozpin's voice emerged gentle, almost lulling yet each syllable rang like hammered silver:

" 'A Campione a Godslayer is a supreme ruler.

Since he can kill a celestial being, he may command the sacrosanct powers wielded by the gods.

A Campione a Godslayer is a lord.

For the power to slay a deity places him above all mortals upon the earth.

A Campione a Godslayer is a devil.

For among humankind there exists none who may rival his might.'

He let the words settle, ancient dust on modern ears. A mote drifted through the light; no one breathed.

Ruby broke first. "W-wait. Real gods? Not the 'Brother Gods' fairy-story, but actual gods walking around?"

Yang tilted her head, golden hair spilling like sunlight. "Thought the divines quit the stage ages ago, old man."

Ozpin gave a rueful half-smile. "History... edits itself for palatability."

Weiss's chin lifted sharply. "Professor, why summon us for mythology when finals loom?"

"Because," Glynda interjected, tapping her scroll, "myth just became current events."

At a signal, the projector flared: shaky drone footage painted a moonlit plaza, a whirl of black-gold fire, a lone figure in a shredded greatcoat facing a towering, molten warrior. The swords met; shockwaves cracked paving; the drone feed fritzed.

Ren's breath caught. "Vale festival square that's fives nights past."

"And that," Glynda said, zooming toward the swordsman's silhouette, "is Jaune Arc."

Bedlam.

Yang slapped both palms on the table. "Hold the Grimm horse Jaune did that?"

Ruby squeaked his name, eyes wide as saucers. Blake spilled a rivulet of coffee on her lap. Weiss's face drained white, then flushed a fevered pink. Nora toppled off her chair altogether, crowing, "Arc powerrr!" Ren winced and dragged her upright.

Pyrrha didn't move. Her emerald gaze bored into the holo as though seeking proof in every errant pixel.

Ozpin raised a calm hand; the noise subsided. "Our surveillance orb captured Mr. Arc annihilating a rogue deity known in some texts as a Heretic God. The energy discharged eclipsed isn't any Semblance or Dust phenomenon on record. He lived. The god did not. Classic signs of ascension."

Blake found her voice first. "Ascension to... Campione?"

"Precisely," Ozpin affirmed. "One becomes such only by slaying a divinity in open combat and surviving the backlash. Remnant has recorded perhaps five across two millennia. Most legends were lost or redacted for... stability."

Yang whistled, long and low. "So the dorky dummy with the bunny hoodie grew up and punted a god's head into the stratosphere. I knew the glow-up was real but, wow."

Ruby looked on the verge of clapping. "He's basically a comic-book hero!"

Weiss's throat worked. "Or a walking cataclysm," she murmured.

Ozpin folded his hands. "I will not sugar-coat the implications: Jaune Arc is now unique a node of power that is more stronger then the four Seasonal Maidens. He appears unwilling to re-enter Beacon's chain of command; instead he operates with seven... formidable allies."

Glynda's gaze hardened but she said nothing.

Ruby's hand shot up again. "Can't we just invite him back? Beacon could totally use a god-puncher on the books! We throw a banner, maybe cookies.."

Yang nudged her. "Kid, cookies don't solve existential crises." Then reconsidered. "...OK, sometimes they do, but still."

Blake frowned. "Jaune was never power-hungry. If he refuses Beacon, we must ask why."

Weiss adopted a stiffer posture. "Self-interest? Pride? Or perhaps he thinks himself above regulation now."

"Enough, Miss Schnee," Glynda warned, but Pyrrha finally spoke soft yet ringing:

"He refuses because trust is a bridge collapsible once. We left him dangling over that gorge." She swallowed hard. "I did."

Silence rippled. Yang's smirk faded. Nora's shoulders slumped.

Ozpin's gaze gentled. "Ms. Nikos, I appreciate your candor, but Jaune's choice needn't be permanent. Which is why I called all of you." He swept Team RWBY, then the fragments of JNPR. "You share history with him shared halls, battlefields, laughter. If anyone can extend a genuine olive branch, it is you."

Ren cleared his throat. "You want us to find him."

"And convey the earnestness of Beacon's new position," Ozpin agreed. "I seek no coercion. Only dialogue."

Nora bounced a little. "So a friendship mission!"

Blake arched a brow. "With potential divine fallout, yes."

Weiss shut her eyes briefly, exhaling a tremor. "Professor, may we speak frankly? If we approach Jaune under the banner of Beacon, he will suspect manipulation. We must first make amends."

"Just so," Ozpin nodded. "But remember: greater storms gather storms even a Campione will feel. If you cannot mend, at least warn him we fight the same foe."

"Salem," Ruby whispered, almost awed.

Yang's gaze narrowed. "If Jaune's that strong, maybe he's the key to ending her."

Glynda's lips tightened. "He is the key but be careful he can paint an even larger target on all your backs."

Pyrrha rose slowly, fists unclenching. "Threat or not, I will not stand idle again. I must tell him I am sorry. I must offer my shield, his or not."

Weiss stood too, regal mask cracking to show earnest remorse. "He deserves to hear it from my mouth."

Ruby hopped up beside them. "Team RWBY's in. No strings, no orders just friends showing up."

Yang clapped Ruby's hood affectionately. "And if his girlfriends wanna throw hands, we'll buy them drinks instead."

Blake smirked at that. "Professional courtesy."

Ren offered Nora a hand; she seized it, beaming tearfully. "Operation Awesome Jaune Support Squad, go time!"

Ozpin produced a sealed manila envelope. "Inside address, daily sightings, known companions. Treat that with caution; some of his circle are... territorial."

Yang waggled brows. "Dragon-lady-levels of territorial?"

Glynda answered dryly, "Literal dragon, Miss Xiao-Long."

Ruby squealed. "I knew dragons were real!"

Weiss muttered, "Focus, Ruby," though her own eyes shone with equal parts nerves and resolve.

Pyrrha hefted the envelope, lips parted at one last question. "Professor... if Jaune refuses, will you leave him be?"

Ozpin met her gaze tired, honest. "I will honour his autonomy. But I must keep the world informed of new godslayers. That is my charge. I hope he sees us as allies, not jailers."

A contemplative hush followed. In that hush, seven young warriors glimpsed the next fork in their lives, each path lined with celestial fire and old regrets.

Ruby broke it with a decisive clap. "Right team meeting in the library. We plan routes, gifts, speeches Ren, you do speeches; Nora bakes; Yang arranges transport; Weiss—"

"I buy apology flowers," Weiss said with a smile. "It the least I can do after what I did to Jaune."

Blake tucked the dossier under her arm. "And I research dragon etiquette."

Yang barked a laugh. "Rule one: don't steal their hoard. Rule two: bring gold."

Nora twirled. "We'll bring cookies! Everyone loves cookies."

Even Pyrrha smiled at that. A small wan thing, but it stayed. She touched the pendant beneath her jacket sparks of Maiden flame casting tiny embers across her palm then looked toward the distant western sky, as though sensing a sword-bright presence somewhere beyond the horizon.

"Hang on, Jaune," she whispered under her breath. "We're coming."

Ozpin and Glynda watched them file out seven silhouettes against the dying light, renewed purpose in every stride.

Glynda's voice dropped. "Do you truly think they can sway a Campione?"

Ozpin inhaled the cool dust-scented air of the hall. "I think Jaune Arc still cherishes loyalty and sincerity. If anyone can remind him of the boy who first wanted to be a hero... it's them."

"And if not?"

Ozpin's hand tightened on his cane. "Then we adjust. But hope, Professor Goodwitch... hope is a weapon none of us can afford to misplace."

The door clicked shut behind the students, and Beacon's tower lights flared on each lamp a small defiance against the oncoming dark

Beacon Academy Cumulus Library, North Wing

Even at night the great glass barrel-vault of Cumulus Library glimmered each pane dusted silver by starlight, each soaring rib of iron sweeping into shadows forty feet overhead. It was the quiet heart of Beacon: tiered balconies, spiral stairs, and endless aisles of vellum and polymer scrolls. Hologlyph projectors hovered among the shelves like muted fireflies, dimmed to keep sleep-deprived students from going blind.

Tonight the north-wing study rotunda belonged exclusively to eight people.

Ruby had staked the center table with a scarlet cape and a stack of blank notebooks. Massive floor globes showing Atlas' air routes and Mistral's ley-lines flanked the space, and an enormous map of Vale Province flickered on a wall panel behind her. "All right Operation Mend-a-Campione is officially in session!"

Yang set down a crate of energy drinks with a thump. "Sister, we've GOT to workshop that name."

"It's honest." Ruby beamed. "Jaune's a Campione, we broke the friendship, we mend it."

On a side table Nora blew across a tin tray of chocolate-chunk cookie dough shaped like tiny cartoon swords. "Pre-game carbs for emotional combat!" She shoved the tray into a portable Scroll-O-Bake oven.

Ren had already commandeered a data terminal. Lines of text streamed across the crystal display as he cross-checked Ozpin's dossier with city traffic cams, dust-shop receipts, and medical-clinic logs. "Three likely addresses," he said without looking up. "A manor in Hillside Quarter, a leased training yard in the city of Argus Ward, and a garden apartment tied to the Arc family trust. He rotates unpredictably."

Blake stepped from the shadows with five volumes balanced on one arm Draconic Etiquette, Faunus Mythic Lineages, Anthropology of Heretic Cults, a linguistics index, and, inexplicably, 1001 Cookie Recipes of Vacuo. "Background on his companions," she murmured. "Two of them is a dragon from legend. Better learn the difference between an insult and a compliment before Yang opens her mouth."

Yang tossed a wadded napkin at her. "Rude. Accurate, but rude."

Weiss paced along a row of stained-oak chairs, rehearsing half-whispered lines: "No excuses, Arc. Too harsh. My treatment of you was unconscionable. Ugh, pompous. I am sorry that I broke you heart and I'm sorry that you face these monsters alone. Better." She marked the phrase in an ivory notebook under the heading Primary Apology DO NOT RAMBLE.

At the periphery, Pyrrha stood before a tall window whose mullions framed the midnight forest. The aura of Fall Maiden flickered like caged flame behind her eyes; when she breathed, tiny sparks fanned across her copper armor straps. She held Alister's spare dagger in her palm turning it, feeling its weight then slid it into a scroll pouch at her hip as if sealing a promise.

Ruby spun a dry-erase stylus between her fingers. "So objective? Talk, not fight. We give Jaune proof we want to help, not use him."

Yang cracked a grin. "And if those chrono-eye dragon girlfriends decide to breathe fire first?"

Blake answered without looking up: "We dodge. We reason. If reasoning fails, Weiss constructs an ice wall and we keep talking through it."

Weiss glared but nodded. "We refuse combat unless attacked beyond retreat. Anything aggressive will validate Jaune's distrust."

Pyrrha pulled a leather map case from her pack. "I sketched the conclave manor's grounds." She unrolled it gardens, outer wards, courtyard gate and laid translucent hex overlays showing vantage points. "We approach openly, mid-morning, when patrol rotations shift. No stealth."

Nora bounced in place. "Open arms, open snacks!"

Ren typed a note: Bring cookies (Nora) & tea leaves (Ren)

Weiss cleared her throat. "He may refuse to see us."

Ruby then look determined "Then we wait outside, civil, like a mailbox. Persistence without pressure."

Yang raised a brow. "We don't camp beside a dragon lady's porch too long. Fire-hazard cuddles."

Blake looked sad "If Rias or Velgrynd confront us, we address them respectfully: titles, no assumptions, no Beacon sales pitch. They are guardians first."

Pyrrha gripped the table edge. "And if Jaune asks why now? We speak truth: that we were blind, that we regret our silence, that we will put actions before words."

Ren looked up. "Sincerity strikes truer than strategy. We show, not sell."

Nora pulled the first cookies from the oven steam spiraled, sweet and hopeful. She placed one in front of Blake, who blinked in surprise, then bit. "Good," Blake whispered. Nora smiled, eyes misting.

Yang leaned back on two legs of her chair, catching the aroma of melting chocolate. "Step two is gifts, huh? Cookies, tea, maybe dust-free lanterns so the dragon lady knows we come in peace?"

Blake flipped through Draconic Etiquette and answered absently, "Gold is the traditional offering, but a handcrafted object of honest intent is acceptable. Lanterns woven with glyph-ribbons would qualify." She slid the open page across to Weiss, who squinted at an illuminated sketch of a dragon curling around what looked suspiciously like a tea set.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Ruby, find the decorative-arts club and commission a pair of ribbon lanterns. I'll cover the lien."

Yang's chair thudded down. "Big Schnee money, nice."

"It's the least I can do," she muttered, eyes drifting to the halo of Jaune's silhouette frozen on the far holopanel.

Pyrrha caught the look. "Symbolic reparations only work if the words behind them are genuine, Weiss."

Weiss met Pyrrha's gaze squarely across the map-strewn table.

"They will be," she promised, voice low but steady. "I can't undo the past, but I can speak without excuse."

Ruby nodded, scribbling lantern order + thank-you note in scrawling red ink.
"Lanterns, cookies, tea. We're basically building a peace picnic!"

Yang propped elbows on the back of Weiss's chair.
"Add music and it's a double-date with a demigod."

Weiss ignored the tease; her eyes had already drifted back to Ren's dossier.
"Point of protocol: how do we address Jaune's companions? Titles only go so far. If they're truly" she swallowed " ancient entities, an incorrect honorific might be an insult."

Blake slid a second, thinner book toward them: A Concordance of Myth-Bound Courts.

"Page forty-two has a primer on draconic court speech. Velgrynd and Velzard answer to 'Lady' followed by either their epithet Flame or Frost or simply their names. Apparently refusing to use the courtesy title signals equal status; using it signals respect."

Yang whistled. "Better stick with respect. Last thing we need is an ice age in the foyer."

Nora's handheld oven dinged again; she shoveled the next tray out, cheeks flushed with heat and anticipation.
"Respect! Cookies! Positive mental aura!" She pumped a chocolate-smeared fist.

Pyrrha set a hand on Nora's shoulder.
"Remember, they may refuse gifts. We don't push."

"Then I'll just eat the extras," Nora said, perfectly content with either outcome.

Ren glanced from Nora to the steaming stack. "That may be incentive for them to accept, actually."

Ruby's stylus tapped a new column: Possible Objections.
– Security/Mistrust
– Beacon affiliation
– Ozpin's intentions
– Our former negligence
She underlined the last twice and circled it.

Blake, reading upside down, murmured, "We can't deflect that one. We have to own it."

Yang exhaled through her nose. "I'm ready to say I was an arrogant jerk. Think that covers it?"

Weiss's eyebrow rose. "It's a start."

Pyrrha glanced between them, then set Alister's dagger in the center of the map blade across Vale Province like a solemn compass.
"I will lay this at Jaune's feet," she said softly. "A sign that vengeance is done, that I seek no blame, only... peace for the fallen."

Yang's grin faded; she reached out and clasped Pyrrha's wrist.
"And if he refuses the knife?"

"Then I'll keep it." Pyrrha's voice wavered only slightly. "A reminder to guard what remains."

Hours slipped by; scroll clocks clicked past midnight. The rotunda's hanging lights dimmed automatically to twilight mode, yet the eight remained hunched over diagrams and drafts.

Ren perfected a projected route: cable-tram from Beacon to Hillside, footpath through the terraced gardens, approach on pebble-walk so their steps could be heard no ambush. He highlighted benches where they could wait if denied entry.

Blake compiled an index card of companion names, epithets, rumored mythos, and safe conversational openings:
Rias Gremory – Lady Rias – greet with light bow; mention Vale's art scene.
Elena Licht – Lady Elena – compliment medicinal skill; bring refined tea.
Scáthach – Lady Scáthach or "Mistress of the Shadowed Glen"; avoid idle flattery; speak clearly.
Ei (Raiden) – Lady Ei; gift of artisanal paper or ink; respect silence.
Himeko Murata – Captain Murata; handshake permissible; discuss hunts.

Yang chuckled reading over her shoulder.
"No jokes about lightning with Ei, got it."

"Permitted after rapport," Blake amended with a half-smile.

Weiss finished her apology draft three concise paragraphs, each line revised until the words felt balanced between contrition and sincerity. She folded it into an envelope sealed with her signet but unmarked on the outside: He will break the seal himself or not at all, she thought, and tucked it into her satchel.

Ruby lugged in a box of ribbon lanterns, fresh from the crafts club down the hall. Each globe glimmered pale gold, filigreed with dust-inscribed snowflakes that would glow softly for hours.
"They added little gears inside so they spin!" she whispered, beaming. "Symbol of ongoing friendship always turning, never extinguished."

Yang ruffled her cloak. "You're a sap, sis, but it works."

Cookie fragrance now saturated the entire wing; passing librarians peered in curiously, then left them undisturbed, perhaps sensing the gravity of late-night absolutions.

Finally Ren powered down the terminal.
"Logistics locked. Best window is tomorrow, tenth bell. Manor guards change shift, local traffic minimal."

Blake closed her last tome. "Dragon etiquette studied."

Weiss tucked stray strands of white hair behind an ear. "Gifts prepared. Statements drafted."

Nora slammed the lid on the travel tin forty perfectly cooled sword-cookies packed like glittering recruits. "Snacks secured!"

Yang popped an energy drink, took a swig, and crushed the can with one hand. "Morale: questionable but caffeinated."

Ruby wiped chalk dust from her cheeks, looked around the circle, and felt her pulse hammer with a cocktail of dread and hope.
"We're really doing this," she said, half to herself.

Pyrrha straightened, the ghost-flame in her eyes steadier than it had been in days.
"We are," she affirmed. "And we go as friends or we do not go at all."

Seven sets of hands met in the table's center, palms over Alister's dagger and the lantern-glow reflection. For a breath they said nothing, letting the gesture pronounce what their throats could not: forgiveness is hard, but worth the swing of a sword or the fracture of pride.

Ruby broke the circle, wiping suddenly damp lashes. "Okay sleep now, save the rest of our braincells. Dawn meet-up by the shuttle stop, yes?"

Nods all around.

Weiss gathered her folders. Nora slung the cookie tin like artillery. Ren extinguished holoprojections. Blake returned all but one reference book to the chute, tucking 1001 Cookie Recipes under her arm the dragon might enjoy sweets after all.

Yang lingered, eyeing the huge map of Vale still flickering on the back wall. She traced one finger from Beacon's tower icon across the valley to the tiny stylized manor crest. "Feels like marching into another world," she murmured.

Blake stepped beside her. "Maybe it is another world," she said. "But we carry part of it already here." She tapped Yang's chest where Ember Celica rested beneath the jacket, then her own heart. "And here."

Yang hummed, subdued. "Let's hope that's enough."

Above them, the great glass roof revealed a spray of winter constellations. The stars looked cold, distant, unbothered by mortal reconciliations or god-slayer politics. But Ruby, pausing on the steps, stared up anyway and whispered to the diamonds of light: "Tomorrow... please let him listen."

Ruby ticked each point. "Team RWBY &... still-J but-temporarily-fractured-NPR? Assemble at Bullhead pad 0730."

Yang flexed. "Sunrise selfies mandatory."

Blake groaned but didn't stop a small smile.

Weiss rolled the gift shaft in oilcloth. "Thank you all of you. If this succeeds, we begin healing; if it fails, we will at least have spoken our hearts."

Ruby reached across the table, palm up. One by one the others set their hands atop hers: Weiss's white-gloved fingers, Blake's calloused Faunus grace, Yang's warm steady clasp, Ren's tranquil strength, Nora's electric bounce, Pyrrha's warrior steadiness.

When the eight hands met, a faint hum seemed to ripple through the room no aura, no magic, simply the resonance of joined resolve.

Ruby's silver eyes shone. "For him, for us, for tomorrow."

And whether or not the cosmos heard, the seven filed out into Beacon's chilled corridors determined to try armed with cookies, contrition, ribbon lanterns, and the fragile, furious hope that words could still mend what silence had shattered

The morning light slanted through the tall windows of Jaune's manor, falling like golden dust across velvet cushions and polished marble. He sat alone in the great salon, ankles crossed on a low stool, a warm cup of jasmine tea cradled between his palms. Around him, his six steadfast companions Scathach, her spear planted point-first in the floor; Ei, fingers tracing silent sigils in the air; Vengrynd, checking the edge of his blade; Rias, reading a diplomatic dispatch; Velzard, idly toying with shadows at her fingertips; Elena, absorbed in a book of myths; and Himeko, her gauntlet humming faintly with residual solar energy moved with silent, regal grace.

None spoke. None disturbed the peace. Today was a rare gift: a day off. Jaune had earned this stillness.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the quiet. For weeks he had been Campione, godslayer, protector of Vale and soon enough, he would have to take up the mantle again. But not yet. Not while this brief serenity lasted.

A soft knock shattered the stillness.
Jaune's eyes opened, blue and cold.
Across the room, tension rippled like a silent storm.
Scathach's spear quivered in readiness.
Ei's sigils brightened.
Vengrynd's hand hovered at his blade.
Rias lowered her papers with a sharp flick.
Velzard's shadows coiled at her feet.
Elena slipped a velvet marker into her book.
Himeko shifted her gauntlet, the crystal humming like a contained star.

Without a word, Jaune rose.
He crossed the marble floor and opened the door.

Outside stood six figures in Beacon Academy colors Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang plus Nora, practically bouncing with nervous energy, and Ren, composed but wary. They looked strangely small against the grandeur of the manor. In their arms, they carried offerings:
Ruby clutched a basket of scones and bright red apples.
Weiss, stiff and formal, held a bouquet of silver lilies.
Nora held up a tin of cookies wrapped in pink ribbon, grinning hopefully.

And at their left, standing half-hidden behind them, was Pyrrha Nikos head bowed, shoulders trembling.

(NEW PART: they had searched for him)
It was clear from their travel-worn faces and anxious fidgeting that they had scoured Vale to find him. His manor was no public sanctuary; someone perhaps Ruby or Ren must have begged someone in Vale's Council to reveal its location.

Jaune recognized them instantly.
But he felt no warmth.
No longing for the camaraderie they once shared.
No flicker of the bond they had broken.

Only an intrusion.

Ruby forced a bright smile. "Jaune! Hi! We hoped you'd be here."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Jaune said nothing. He didn't even step back.

"It's... it's been a while," Weiss added stiffly, adjusting her hold on the bouquet. "We thought maybe you'd let us talk."

He regarded them for a moment longer silent, unmoved then wordlessly stepped aside.

"Enter, then," he said, his voice like frost.

They shuffled inside, their nervous steps tapping faintly against the polished floor. His companions immediately shifted into a subtle arc behind him:
Scathach's crimson eyes tracking every movement.
Ei's fingers hovering at the edge of a barrier spell.
Vengrynd's blade flashing in the morning sun.
Rias surveying them with amused contempt.
Velzard's shadows curling lazily around her.
Elena tilting her head curiously.
Himeko flexing her armored fingers, sparks dancing briefly across the gauntlet.

The visitors' eyes flicked to them in confusion and intimidation but said nothing.

Jaune's gaze, however, never left Pyrrha.
She raised her head slowly. Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

The old ache flickered inside him.
And died just as quickly.
He would not let soft nostalgia betray him.

Ruby, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere, lifted the basket slightly.
"Um... tea? We brought scones. And apples!" she said, voice too bright.

Nora thrust the tin of cookies forward with both hands. "And cookies! I made them myself!"
She grinned desperately, as if that would make up for the past.

Weiss stepped forward, holding out the bouquet almost rigidly.
"I brought flowers," she said, stiff but sincere. "Silver lilies. They represent renewal."

Jaune did not even glance at the gifts.

"We're not here for hospitality," Weiss added hastily, flushing under his cold stare. "We wanted to... talk."

Blake shifted, her voice barely a whisper. "About Beacon. About... everything."

Yang stepped forward, crossing her arms. "We miss you, kiddo," she said bluntly. "Beacon's not the same without you."

Nora nodded frantically. "You don't have to come back if you don't want to! We just... we miss you! As our friend!"

Jaune's lips curved but not into a smile.
It was a line of quiet, cutting amusement.

"Friend?" he echoed, his voice flat as iron.
"I'm not your friend."

Gasps rippled across them.

Ruby's hands shook.
Weiss's mouth opened and closed helplessly.
Blake's cat ears drooped.
Yang clenched her fists.
Nora's cheerful bounce collapsed.
Ren said nothing, but his hands folded tensely in his lap.

"I'm not the Jaune Arc you knew," Jaune continued, voice harder now. "You spoke to me once, under Beacon's banners. I stood beside you. But that was before you let me walk away. Alone."

Weiss lifted a hand, desperate to interject. "Jaune—"

"Be quiet," Jaune snapped, cutting her off like a whip crack.

"Everyone except Pyrrha sit."

Without waiting for a second invitation, his companions moved smoothly, dragging chairs from the side table. The visitors, cowed, hesitantly obeyed. Ruby's basket thumped awkwardly onto her lap; Weiss placed the flowers on the floor, forgotten; Nora set her cookies carefully on the table. Only Pyrrha remained standing, trembling, rooted to the spot.

"I said sit," Jaune repeated, sharper.

Ruby half-rose to help her, but Jaune's cold stare froze her in place.

The room pulsed with rising tension.

Scathach's spear shimmered faintly; Ei's fingers flexed a glowing rune; Vengrynd's eyes gleamed with predator's patience; Rias smiled as if waiting for an excuse; Velzard's claws flickered in and out of shadow; Elena leaned forward curiously; Himeko tapped her armored foot once clang.

Jaune ignored them all.

He fixed Pyrrha with a stare so cold she shivered.

"Pyrrha Nikos," he said, his voice a razor. "You wanted to speak."

Her lips trembled.
She clutched her hands tightly to her chest.

"Jaune... I I came here to ask..." She hesitated, then forced the words out, voice cracking. "To ask forgiveness. I know I have no right. I know I abandoned you. I know I let you believe you were worthless. But I never stopped caring. Not for a moment."

The others shifted uncomfortably. Weiss reached out again, but Jaune barked:

"Let her speak."

Silence fell.

Pyrrha swallowed hard.
"I...I want to try again," she whispered. "I want to date you. To show you I care. To be there for you this time. Please."

The words shattered whatever fragile hope remained.

Shock rippled through the visitors:
Ruby's mouth fell open.
Weiss flushed red.
Blake stiffened.
Yang cursed under her breath.
Nora gasped audibly.
Ren's brows shot up.

Even all 6 of them knew Pyrrha just fucked up.

Before Jaune could speak, his companions rose. Scathach's spear whipped upright; Vengrynd's sword sang through the air; Elena leapt forward, fists raised; Himeko's gauntlet ignited; Rias glided to intercept Pyrrha's path; Velzard's shadows sharpened into claws.

A collective roar silent, furious erupted in their eyes. They moved as one to protect their master.

"Stop!" Jaune's voice, amplified by authority that brooked no refusal, shattered their advance. The spear clattered; swords drew back; shadows recoiled; gauntlet's light dimmed. Scathach planted her spear again; Vengrynd re-sheathed; the others froze mid-gesture.

Jaune rose, stepping between Pyrrha and his companions. He placed a hand on each of their forearms Scathach's, Vengrynd's, Rias's, Velzard's, Elena's, Himeko's glowing weapons against skin. Their gazes met his, all hungry for vindication. He let his aura pulse, the quiet command rooting them in place.

Then he turned back to Pyrrha. "Is this a joke?" His voice was gentle, but carried the weight of every battlefield. "Did you come here to mock my choices to ask me to return to Beacon, to Ozpin's schemes, to be a pawn in someone else's war?"

Pyrrha quivered. "I....no. Not a joke. I'm serious."

Jaune's blue eyes searched hers. His chest rose and fell. He felt the old pull the memory of her grace, her courage, her golden smile. But he also felt the scar she'd left: the emptiness when she abandon him for Alister.

"You walked away," he said, voice breaking slightly cold. "You let me believe you were gone. You let me think I was no one, unworthy of anything but a corpse. And then you expect... what? A second chance? That we can pick up as though everything is as it was?"

Tears spilled down Pyrrha's cheeks. Her shoulders trembled. "I was wrong. I don't expect everything back. I just... I want you to know how I feel."

He sank onto the edge of the table, head bowed. The room held its breath. Then he lifted his face. "I'm glad you said it. Really. But I cannot... I will not go back. I will not fight under Beacon's banners or tread the paths Ozpin lays. I have forged a new path without you."

Jaune's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down Pyrrha Nikos.

The faint hope in her trembling voice, the tears pooling in her eyes it stirred nothing in him now. Once, long ago, it might have shattered him. Now? Now it only saddened him in the detached way one watches a fire die out from across a distant shore.

Around him, his companions Scathach with her grounded spear, Ei with her silent, flowing runes, Vengrynd resting a casual hand on his sword, Rias calmly seated with an air of disdain, Velzard watching with detached amusement, Elena closing her book in a soft snap, and Himeko crossing her armored arms stood quiet but alert. They did not draw weapons. They did not prepare for battle. They did not need to. They knew Jaune would not waver.

He stood there, in the center of the room, unbending.
.

Pyrrha's face crumpled. "No, Jaune! I meant it I still care, I—"

"You cared?" he interrupted coldly. His blue eyes were ice. "You cared when you walked away? When you let them drag me down? When you stood there silent while I was treated like a joke? Like I was nothing?"

Pyrrha flinched, stepping back instinctively, but Jaune didn't stop.

"My trust in you died that day," he said. "Not in body. In trust."
His gaze swept over the others Team RWBY, Nora, Ren who sat frozen, their earlier hope withering into shame.

"You were not there for me," he said, louder now. "None of you were."

Ruby's hands trembled in her lap. Weiss looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Blake lowered her ears. Yang set her jaw but said nothing. Nora's bouncing energy was gone, replaced with a tight, worried frown. Ren sat perfectly still, his face carved from stone.

"I don't see you as friends anymore," Jaune continued mercilessly. "You are just people I used to know."

The silence was unbearable.

Pyrrha pressed her hands to her chest as if trying to physically hold herself together. Her voice broke: "But I love you, Jaune. I...I thought maybe, if I was honest, if I tried to—"

"You thought wrong," Jaune cut her off. His voice was like steel striking flint.

Behind him, his companions didn't even flinch. They trusted him to deal the final blow himself.

"I don't want to date you, Pyrrha," Jaune said, each word like a hammerfall. "I don't want to be your second choice. I don't want you in my life."

Pyrrha's knees buckled slightly. Ruby looked like she wanted to say something anything but Jaune's glance silenced her.

"I have built a new life," Jaune said. His voice softened not with kindness, but with absolute certainty. "I have people who stood with me when I had nothing. People who did not abandon me when I was weak. People who saw me for who I am, not what they expected me to be."

He turned slightly, enough to glance at Scathach, Ei, Vengrynd, Rias, Velzard, Elena, and Himeko. His myth-touched companions straightened proudly, their loyalty shining without a word needing to be spoken.

"I do not need the approval of Beacon," Jaune continued, "and I certainly do not need Ozpin's manipulations."

Weiss stiffened visibly. Blake's fingers tightened on her knees. Even Ren's calm expression darkened slightly.

"I will not fight for him," Jaune said. "I will not serve him. And I will never walk back into Beacon's halls as if nothing happened."

He stepped back and gestured toward the door. "You are free to leave."

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Pyrrha let out a broken breath. She turned, head bowed, and staggered toward the door. Ruby rose shakily, then Weiss, then Blake and Yang, followed by Nora and Ren. No one spoke. No one dared.

Pyrrha paused at the threshold one last time. She looked back, her face pale and wet with tears. Her lips trembled.

Jaune met her gaze without pity.

"Goodbye, Pyrrha," he said.
A final, irrevocable severing.

And he closed the door himself.

The heavy oak thudded shut, sealing them out and sealing his future away from the ashes of the past.

The salon remained still for a moment. Then Rias sighed, lounging back in her chair with a small smirk.

"Finally," she muttered.

"About time," Velzard added, shadows curling lazily around her fingers.

Elena, quietly folding her book, smiled faintly. "You were merciful," she said, as if commenting on the weather.

Scathach planted her spear firmly into the floor. "Had you given the word, we would have removed them ourselves."

Jaune shook his head once. "No. They needed to hear it from me."

Ei, serene as always, gave a slight nod of approval. Himeko merely grunted, folding her arms and leaning back against a column.

Jaune sank slowly back into his seat, feeling the weight lift from his chest.

He was not the fool they remembered. He was something far greater and the ones who stood with him now were the ones who mattered

He stood once more, his footsteps echoing sharply across the marble as he approached the door.

Without opening it, without raising his voice, he spoke knowing the ones beyond could still hear him.

"I pity you," Jaune said, his words cutting through the wood as easily as any sword. "You who cling to the idea of Beacon. To the idea of Ozpin."

Outside, he could sense them frozen, listening.

"You still believe you're fighting for a noble cause," Jaune continued, voice calm and steady. "But you're being used. You are nothing but pieces on a board Ozpin controls."

His hand rested lightly against the doorframe, casual like a king pronouncing judgment.

"You talk about friendship. About loyalty. But when it truly mattered, you abandoned one of your own because it was easier. Because you were told to."

Ruby's breath caught on the other side. Nora whimpered faintly. Ren was silent, but Jaune knew his words had struck deep.

"You think Ozpin tells you everything? You think you understand the war you're fighting?" Jaune's lip curled in quiet scorn. "You don't even know the real enemy you're facing. You don't even know the truth of Salem."

Weiss gasped softly. Yang cursed under her breath.

"You are being led by a man who builds his future on sacrifice. On lies. On pawns too blind or too loyal to see they are expendable."

The silence on the other side of the door grew heavier, almost suffocating.

"And if you continue to follow him blindly," Jaune said, voice dropping into something cold, almost pitying, "then you will be thrown away just like countless others before you."

He closed his eyes briefly.

A final farewell not of love, but of truth.

"I chose a different path," he said, barely above a whisper. "And you are no longer welcome on it."

Without waiting for a response, Jaune stepped back from the door and returned to his companions, the soft click of his boots like a hammer striking nails into a coffin.

He did not look back.

He did not need to.

Whatever bond had once connected him to Team RWBY and Team JNPR had been severed cleanly, irrevocably, and forever.

As he sat again among those who truly stood with him, Jaune Arc allowed himself a single thought for those he left behind:

"May you survive the consequences of your ignorance."

And then, like closing the final page of an old and broken story, he let them go.