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This is no longer a one-shot and neither is it up for adoption.
I've updated this chapter mostly because of how I miss represented Qrow's personality.
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So, my first fanfic. Yeah! Think I'll wait to say more until you've read the story so I'll put it in the bottom. One quick thing, I've read the story through and did Word spelling check, but English is not my first language so please forgive any errors you see.
Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or Bleach. I don't own its characters or any of the copyrighted material related to them.
A man is walking through the forest at dusk. Overhead dark clouds gather and the sky rumble as they do, there's going to be a storm tonight.
The man walks calmly, confidently through the woods. He's far outside the Kingdoms and Grimm are commonplace, yet the woods are silent and the man walks unconcerned.
The sounds of his footfalls echo for there are no other sound but the coming storm, no birds in the trees, no deer's in woods, not even a cricket in the brush.
"Again!"
The boy grasps for breath, rain and sweat soaking him to the bone, his hand shaking around the wooden sword. Thunder rages above him, but he knows better than to let it distract him.
Off to the side a girl much like him sits on the ground, she too tries to claim precious air as she stares at him concerned. He meets her crimson eyes with his own, two sets of scarlet eyes communicating their common suffering.
His momentary loss of focus is brutally punished, a larger wooden weapon striking in the back off his knee with paralyzing force. He loses the air he has so desperately hoarded and falls to the ground.
"Don't look at her, I said AGAIN," the man roared!
The boy looks up just as a lightning strike illuminate the area.
The man before him glares hatefully with eyes glowing red like the fires of hell as he looks at him. His long ponytail whips in the wind, black as the endless void. And a single white, dagger like, horn flashes in the sudden light, a primal statement of this man's unchallenged capacity for violence, as it juts forward from the man's temple.
"You have three seconds to get on your feet and attack me boy, or else you get to explain to your sister why we are starting all over again."
The boy takes a deep breath as he uses his sword as a crutch to get to his feet.
A clearing up ahead reveal a cabin, quite oddly alone way out here in the dense forest, with the nearest civilization many kilometers away. It's a simple yet sturdy building, made of wooden logs and only two stories tall. Smoke rises from the chimney as the man walks towards it.
The door is opened revealing a dark interior illuminated only the fire of the hearth and the oil lamp standing on a table.
"So… the prodigal son returns?"
"… Sup dad?"
"Annnnnnd done," the woman says, smiling kindly, as she finishes bandaging the boy.
"All better my little birds," the woman says as she embraces the boy and girl.
"You shouldn't do that Kathrine, it will make them weak and dependent," the man says with a serious voice.
The woman's face twist in anger as she turns and glare at the man. "Yeah, well they shouldn't even be doing this in first place!" she screams. "They're only seven, most kids their age get in trouble for not doing their homework or breaking a vase, they don't get beaten bloody by their father!" she roars.
The man glares at the woman, "We've been over this before Kathrine, they need to learn to defend themselves, this is not a world that tolerates weakness, no world does!"
"And they will learn, but let them have a chance to be children first," the woman pleads.
"CHILDREN DIE", the man bellow. He pants as the woman and children stare at him in shock. He takes a moment to gather himself, "boys and girls dies," he explains, "its men and women who survive, those with the experience and will to make the choices that allow them to live".
The boy looked at his father's face and for a saw a flash of pain and regret, it would be one of few moments in his life where he saw his father vulnerable.
The voice came from the high-backed chair over by the fireplace, its occupant shielded from view.
The man in the doorway looked around the darkened cabin, "not a thing has changed," he said.
"Why should it?" the man in the chair droned, clearly not giving the other man his full attention.
"It's just an observation, I rather like that I'm able to recognize it all," the man in the door spoke as he looked over some photographs on a nearby wall, depicting a family of four, a father, mother and a boy and girl.
"I hope the journey wasn't too difficult, any Grimm problems?" the man in the chair ask.
"Hah, we both know that the Grimm don't come here, not as long as you remain," the man in the doorway laugh.
"…Why are you here Qrow?"
"You should've saved her, why wasn't you here!" the girl cried as she pounded away at the man's chest.
The man ignored her in favor of staring at the bloody sheet covering the girl's mother, "I told her not to open the door while I was away, no matter what was said," the man whispered.
The boy heard nothing of the one-sided fight as he too stared uncomprehending at the sheet whom under was the woman he had called mother for nine years, now dead.
Off to the side, forgotten and abandoned lay the bodies of eight men, killed in brutal fashion with a huge khyber knife like sword and a trench knife like short sword still impaling two of the corpses.
The girl finished beating uselessly at the man's chest and runs to her brother, dragging him away, "I HATE you, I never want to see you again!", she screams as she run to the cabin, packs her and her brother's things and leaves with him.
All the while the man never moves.
Qrow smile as he spots a bottle of whiskey, "What's wrong can't a loving son visit his old man?"
The man in the chair growl, "Usually that happens once a month not decades," the man paused as Qrow pored himself a glass, "and fair warning don't even start to joke about a nursing home," the words came cold as ice.
Qrow chocked on his drink and had to take a moment to properly swallow the burning liquid, "Banish the thought, I have no desire to be cleaning nurses up with a mop," Qrow laughed before he sighed, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."
The man in the chair laughs lightly, "no I guess not after all these years." He paused, "how's your sister doing?" he asks.
Qrow stare into his drink, "Don't really know, we don't see each other often and she has nothing to do with this." Qrow takes a breath and continue, "I'm not here to catch up, I'm here because I need your skills and power." Qrow looks aside, now more uncertain, "I… we have a problem with someone powerful and resourceful, someone willing and able to burn kingdoms to the ground and laugh as they do it, our usual methods don't work and we can't wait for her to make her make."
A faint flicker of fear enters Qrow's eyes as memories of this man returns, "But you could stop her, all her plans, allies and powers would be nothing before the might you could unleash on her." Qrow looks towards the chair and its silent occupant, "I'm asking you, if not for the kingdom of Vale then for the blood ties we share, will you help us?"
"…", after a few moments, the man stands up from his chair, Qrow can't help but shiver as nothing about him has changed despite the years since he's seen him. The man walks over to the dinner table and sits down.
"Take a seat son and let's talk," Getsuga Branwen, formerly Ichigo Kurosaki says with a smile.
And done. Hope you enjoyed that.
So, if you haven't figured it out yet, this story was made around the idea that Raven and Qrow are Ichigo's children that he has had with a Remnant woman. The OC Ichigo comes from the idea that he has been sent to Remnant after a great tragedy (exiled by Central 46, Aizen or Yhwach destroy the world's, [I love Dark Ichigo]) and he's therefore colder and less tolerant. He appearance is basically the Final Getsuga Tensho combined with his Quincy/Hollow form from chapter 675 I believe (the one with the single horn).
This is my first story, but I'm sure more will follow. Keep an eye on my profile where I will upload my ideas and do some full stories, one-shots or let another talented writer take them to their full potential.
Review Please.
Rock on.