Homework
STRQ's First Semester
Qrow leaned back in his chair, yawning loudly. In front of him was a stack of homework, the majority of which he had left purposefully blank. It was five pm on a Friday; the fact that he was still there was sinful, and not in the fun way.
Beside him, James Ironwood was diligently going through the rest of Qrow's half-assed assignments. The Atlassian would mark something, flip a page, frown, and mark something else; he didn't react to any of Qrow's attempts to provoke him, barely acknowledging he was even there. They had been sitting in the classroom, alone, for the past hour; so far Jimmy showed no signs of relenting in his determination to finish previewing Qrow's assignments for next week.
Dust almighty, what a waste of time…
Qrow sighed again, slumping further into his seat. It was a clear day outside, sunny. There were so many things he could be doing. Taiyang had suggested they go to an arcade, and Qrow wanted to introduce his partner to the joys of gambling with an unbeatable advantage. Instead, he was sitting in this uncomfortable chair, next to this uncomfortable guy, trying to not jump out the window in his desperation.
"Jimmy I have a question," Qrow said finally.
"Is it related to the homework?" James asked, flipping a page.
"Fuck no, it is not," Qrow responded.
"Hm. Unfortunate."
"Jim. Jimbo. Jimantha. Tell me, do you ever have any fun? Or does the chip in your head prevent you from experiencing the full range of human emotion?"
James paused, steadily applying the tip of his pencil to the paper before him and wrote in his impossibly neat hand writing in the margins. Nodding, he flipped the page again. Qrow rocked his chair impertinently.
"My chip allows me to focus and derive pleasure from completing my responsibilities. Maybe you should have one installed? It certainly wouldn't hurt your grades," James said dryly.
James could say something with such a straight face and lack of inflection that most people took what he said at face value. He could probably say he'd grown two sets of green testicles under his armpits, and people would be tempted to believe him. Qrow, however, had a twin with similar talents; he simply applied his experience gained from years of dealing with terse, sarcastic horseshit to his mentor and got by. Maybe he should be a translator for the socially impaired?
"My grades are fine," Qrow waved his hand.
"No, they really aren't. Especially considering how intelligent you actually are," James said. "You could do much better, if you wanted to."
His mentor picked the stack of papers up and calmly tap them on the desk. Everything he did was so methodical, surgical, calculated. It drove Qrow crazy.
"Aww, you think I'm smart?" Qrow smirked.
"Yes. But not as smart as you are lazy."
"Hey, what's that sayin? Work smarter, not harder?"
"That means you have to actually work first," James handed him the stack.
Qrow grinned roguishly, accepting the paperwork. Outside, he could see a Frisbee whisk past the window.
"C'mon man, I'm serious. What do you do to blow off steam?" he asked, tilting his head.
"I workout," James said, monotone.
Qrow raised an eyebrow. That much was obvious. The guy was built like a tank. Qrow doubted he'd ever seen his mentor eat anything wasn't a salad or something else obnoxiously healthy. He did drink occasionally, but not as religiously as himself.
"That can't be all. Do you party? I bet you're secretly a party machine, I have like a sixth sense for these sorts of things."
"When there's something to celebrate, sure," James said, folding his arms. His combat uniform barely even wrinkled with the motion. "Qrow, listen-"
Qrow prepared an eye-roll.
"…why are you here?"
Qrow paused. He raised a cautious eyebrow.
"Well I dunno if you remember this, Jimmy, but you did insist on the time and place."
James shook his head, pointing at the assignments.
"I mean Beacon. Why come here if you aren't going to take becoming a hunter seriously?"
Qrow sneered, an old reflex.
"Just because I'm not snapping to or whatever the fuck you expect from people doesn't mean I'm not serious," Qrow said, crossing his hands behind his head. "I'm just a hands on kind of guy; insisting I do a bunch of petty paperwork isn't going to teach me how to kill monsters."
James stared at him levelly, not speaking for a moment. His eyebrow raised with that same precise motion that he applied to everything else.
"So you fill out half of it with facetious bullshit?" James asked, mouth barely twitching.
"Woah, Jim, watch your language. My precious, freshmen ears are burning," Qrow chuckled. "Look, though, if they're going to waste my time, I can waste theirs-"
"And mine, too, apparently," James said. Qrow blinked at that. "You think I really want to sit here and read about how, where's a good example-"
His mentor pulled out one of the question and answer sheets.
"-Here we go. How 'the Faunus War was the result of humans just being real cunts again' and 'the King of Vale is a sentient…vagine? Is that a word?"
"It's pronounced va-ji-nay. That's how they say it in Vacuo," Qrow smirked.
"No. No it isn't," James kept shaking his head, and the paper. "And that's not the point. Why do you want to be a hunter Qrow? Or do you?"
Qrow kept his mouth shut, glancing off. James peered at him intently for a moment, waiting for an answer; when he didn't, the older boy sighed.
"Nobody really likes homework. It's boring. But that's just part of it. And this isn't some college campus where adult children can come screw off for a couple years: this is a hunters academy. This is THE hunters academy. Beacon can be a lot of fun. But it is still a serious place, for serious people, who actually want to do this job," James said, a frown falling across his brow. "So perhaps, instead of wasting my time and your professors' time, you should figure out if this is what you really want to do."
Qrow's ears burned, just perceptibly; however, he wasn't planning on sitting here any longer to be lectured by a stuffy automaton. Stretching theatrically, he stood up, pushing his bangs out of his eyes as he grinned. He winked as he nonchalantly shouldered his bag.
"Sure thing, Jimmy, I'll get right on that," he drawled. "Sorry I uh, wasted your time."
He strolled casually out of the classroom, not bothering to collect all of the homework. If James wanted to be a self-righteous dick, then let him. Qrow had much better things he could be doing.
The hallways were empty, save for the occasional drone. All of the other students were likely at chow, the gym, or whatever else they could do in their limited free hours. Qrow's own teammates were certainly kept busy; between training, trust building exercises, and community service, team STRQ was always on the grind. It felt like there was never any time to just exist.
Qrow sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He considered swinging by his locker and picking up his scythe. He could go get an extra sparring session in; Raven had been bugging him about it.
His sister, when she wasn't in the library or doing the litany of other things foisted upon them, lived in the arenas. She loved fighting. She loved getting better at fighting, she loved outmaneuvering the enemy. Raven had always thrived on the battlefield, and Qrow…didn't. He just got lucky.
Jame's words circled his head once again as he stepped outside into the fading sunshine. It was cold, though not as cold as it could be. He took a deep breath, the chill burning deep in his lungs. In the distance, he could see the city skyline; sometimes, he forgot it was an actual city, and kept thinking it was a mountain range. The Kingdom of Vale was huge.
Pausing, Qrow considered his options. He could go be responsible, train and study.
Or…
He grinned, pulling out his scroll to send off a message.
"So where is this place again?" asked Taiyang, treading slowly after him.
Qrow sent his partner an annoyed glance over his shoulder.
"I already said," he replied.
The weight of his sword-scythe between his shoulders was a familiar presence, one he still wasn't entirely comfortable with even after all these years. Weapons did not bring Qrow peace of mind; they just reminded him of all the violence yet to come.
Qrow was leading Tai down an alley in the rougher part of Vale's industrial district. There was a sweet, fetid scent in the air, like ancient garbage water; oily puddles sloshed under his feet and a man's rough laughter drifted out of an open window a few floors up.
"Uhuh, yea. But, I guess that begs the question of why are we going there?" asked Tai, stepping quietly around a puddle. Tai could tread almost as quietly as Summer when he wanted to.
"You are such a fuckin momma's boy, aren't you?" chuckled Qrow, looking for the entrance. "Oooh we can't stay out too late, Qrow, w-w-we'll get in trouble! Ooooh we can't go there, that's where all the hoodlums hang out to smoke the drugs and not pay their taxes-"
"Fuck you," droned Tai. "Fuck you completely, you walking bag of ass-cabbage."
Qrow laughed aloud. His partner could be a pain in the ass, but at least he was entertaining. Over the past few months, Qrow had gone from grudgingly tolerating Taiyang to occasionally enjoying his company; or at least the opportunity to rile him. They seemed to be capable of getting along alright, when he wasn't being a judgmental little shit. Tai was practically a poster boy for what Qrow had always imagined a Kingdom dweller to be like, but almost in a more positive way. Vanilla ice cream meets golden retriever meets sarcastic man-child; the blonde was something else.
"It'll be fun. Consider it a new experience," Qrow said, waving his hand.
"Why can't we just go play video games?" Tai grumbled, hopping around another cesspool.
"Because, you can't develop strong character by playing video games," Qrow drawled. "Or whatever the fuck. We're here anyways."
In front of them, a figure had materialized from the darkness. A man dressed in dark, casual clothes was slouching in front of a swinging door leading into a warehouse; the warehouse windows were blacked out. Inside, Qrow could hear a crowd of people, chatting excitedly.
The guard glanced at Qrow and Taiyang, raised a disbelieving eyebrow when he spotted the fanny pack, and rolled his eyes towards the door. Qrow grinned and shrugged, pushing the door open.
The dimly lit building was packed with humans and faunus alike, all of a rougher bent. In the middle of the building was a raised stage, circled by rickety bleachers. There was a bar along the nearest wall, where the overworked bartenders were pouring cheap beer into plastic cups for sweaty wads of lien.
Nearby was a line for placing bets; Qrow smiled brightly, the energy of the place thrilling him. A guy standing next to him spilled his beer all down his shirt for no particular reason and cursed vehemently. Whistling innocently, Qrow hopped in line, fingering the wad of cash in his pocket.
Taiyang stayed by his elbow, glaring about disapprovingly. Tai did not like gambling; he saw it as irresponsible, and a waste. What he didn't understand though, was that with him, you were never really gambling to begin with.
After a few minutes they reached the plywood table at the front of the line. A greasy man in an equally greasy collared shirt pointed out the roster of names on the board for him to pick from. Qrow studied the list with a practiced eye, seeing the collective fates of those about to fight. Each name glowed with its owner's luck.
"I'll uuhh…yea. I'll put five hundred on 'the Tinman'," Qrow tapped his chin. Taiyang's eyes widened like blue saucers as Qrow forked over his money cheerfully.
As the partners fought their way back through the crowd to find a seat, Tai continued to gape at him. The blonde finally spoke up once they found a spot up in the stands.
"Man, I hope you've bought all your Dust supplies already. Because you're going to be completely broke," Taiyang shook his head.
"Nah. Watch and learn," Qrow smirked. Below him, a pretty girl with green eyes and midnight hair glanced his way; his smiled warmed immediately and she smiled back, before turning to speak to her friend.
Tai continued to shake his head, unimpressed. Qrow threw his arm around his partner, shaking his shoulder.
"Tai, c'mon man. Have a little faith in me," Qrow chuckled. "I know what I'm about."
"Suuure," the martial artist rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, dude."
The lights overhead dimmed even further, and the crowd quieted as an electric tension filled the air.
"Goooooood EVENING Vaaaaale!" shouted a woman standing on a foldout chair.
She had the body of a huntress, and tattoos covered her nearly head to toe. Considering she was barely clothed, the ink was extensive. Qrow grinned appreciatively as the crowd cheered in response.
"Tonight! We have several very special fights, but for all you virgins in the audience-"
"Oh hey, she's talking to you," Qrow quipped.
"At least my dick won't rot off by the time I'm twenty, unlike someone's," responded Taiyang automatically.
"-the rules are thus! No weapons! No armor! No aura! Bare knuckle brawling only!"
More cheering. As Taiyang paused in consideration of these new facts, the woman continued.
"Fighters must stop when their opponent surrenders or goes unconscious!"
Qrow wished he had bought some popcorn. He settled for pulling his flask out of his jacket pocket, taking a long drought.
"And the round winners will face one another in a throw down at the end of the night! So on that note, let's get tooo iiiiit!"
People went absolutely ape-shit. Taiyang scooted forward on his bench, elbows on his knees as he squinted.
"First up! Boris the Ursa-"
More screaming, as a huge, shirtless human clambered slowly onto the stage. The towel draped over his neck looked like a tissue paper; Qrow peered at the man's luck, and the lines of ever-fluctuating fate that vibrated about him, interconnecting with others like a series of electrical neurons. After a moment, he smirked.
"VS! The Tinman!"
"Dude," said Tai, jaw dropping. "Holy shit, dude NO WAY."
Qrow's own pale red eyes scanned to the left and froze. The Tinman was equally shirtless, but not quite so tall. However, that's not why both partners were dumbstruck.
Standing in the middle of an underground fight club, cracking his neck casually as you pleased, was Beacon's golden boy. James Ironwood.