Hello! I'd like to start by admitting that I'm really not that good at this "writing" thing and that I'm rather inexperienced when it comes to writing fanfiction.

With that out of the way, I'd like to say: welcome to this RWBY fanfic. I hope you enjoy yourselves while reading it.

Please don't come in to this with a closed mind. I'm aware that some OC's can turn out terrible. If something bothers you, please don't refrain from flaming me with reviews. As an inexperienced writer, any review will make me happy.

Anyways, lets begin.

Mallow Rouge

"Mallow! Mallow! Hurry up! Take the trash out!" called the voice of Iridine Rouge, slightly strained due to yelling. She stood in a doorway leading into a side alley. Her long, dark locks rolled lightly around her shoulders as she peered down at her son with docile chocolate brown-eyes that contrasted her striking tone.

"Yes, mom? What is it?" the recipient of her intense stare – a petite young man with the same dark hair and brown eyes, dressed in a grungy dress shirt and dress pants – responded quietly. He sat by the door in the alley. He didn't quite look his mother in the eye. Instead, he opted to gaze ahead, eyes downcast.

"Didn't you hear me? Take the trash out!" Iridine said with slightly less force.

Mallow nodded slightly, acknowledging his mother's order with a quiet, "alright". Iridine shut the door, leaving the quiet boy alone in the alley. He then, proceeded to gather up a large pile of putrid-smelling, black bags that had gathered miserably in the alley; only to drop them all pathetically. The boy sighed before carrying the bags, one at a time, to a street curb.

"I am a loser," he idly thought aloud on his first trip. The boy couldn't help but continue thinking this as he carried – well, dragged – the remaining bags to the curb.

Once the difficult job was done, Mallow plopped down by the bags and stared at his great city. From his position, he had an amazing view of Vale. Across the street was an astounding view of dirty, graffiti-covered warehouses as far as the eye could see. Around him, were several spectacular lampposts, all of which in desperate need of maintenance. Trash was scattered all around the area, enhancing the already exquisite nature of the place, like snow in winter or fallen leaves in autumn. Trash was simply a big part of what made his living place incredible.

Mallow looked down the street, both ways, observing his surroundings. The same ones he's had since he was little. To his right were more warehouses, a rundown bar, and a few other questionable locales. And to his left, was probably the highlight of the young man's environment: a single Dust shop titled: "Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust". It was just as dirty and graffiti-soiled as the rest of the street and every window could really stand to be replaced. And yet, it was – to Mallow's eyes – the highlight of his home (aside from his parent's restaurant, of course). When he was little, every strand, every bit of free time the young boy had, was spent in the Dust shop. He had no idea how they were used. He just loved to stare at the crystals and feel the substance in its finest form between his fingers. While he did this, the shopkeeper told him fantastical stories about his father, his sister, and his son; all of which were hunters. He told of daring exploits, and heroic adventures filled with evil, bestial Faunus and the horrific Creatures of Grimm. As a child, Mallow only paid half-attention to these stories, far more interested in the Dust itself. However, it was still the highlight of his childhood, aside from free food from the best restaurant he's ever been to (and the only one at that).

Unfortunately, Mallow had stopped visiting the Dust shop. Instead, he sits on the curb and stares at it. The young man is far more content with just that. It hurt him though, because hardly anyone ever visited the sorry shop. And that can be attributed to the fact that the poor place was subject to more robberies than actual visits. "Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust" had been "visited" by strange men in black suits and red shades, very often, in the past.

Mallow felt sorry for the people who owned the place. Unfortunately, the young man couldn't do a thing. Last time he tried culminated in probably the most humiliating experience of his life.

In the aftermath, the young man realized that he could never be a true fighter. He could never be like the Huntsmen and Huntresses from the old shopkeeper's fun stories. He also realized that he was insanely lucky. For some reason, the perpetrator's potential killing blows had no effect on Mallow. Of course, all this meant was his embarrassment was prolonged. But in the end, he was grateful for his life. However, he was not grateful for his hands; his weak, pathetic, mangled, stupid, feeble, puny, frail, unhelpful, gets-me-in-trouble-all-the-time hands. They made it so he couldn't wield a sword, fire a gun, throw a spear, and grip the handle of, well, anything. They were just so weak and easily damaged.

After that, Mallow never returned to the Dust shop. He just didn't know how to face the owners after he had failed them.

As his lament continued, Mallow turned away from the Dust shop and his most humiliating memory. And instead, continued to sit by the trash bags on the curb with his head in his hands, bemoaning his existence.

He sat there for an indeterminable amount of time until: "Mallow! Come on! Dinner's ready! I made something I know you'll really like!" Iridine, once more, stood in the doorway leading to the alleyway. Mallow arose from his depressed position and turned his head to look at his mother. But he made no other movement. So, to get him to hurry up, Iridine called, "Guess what?! Your father's finally back! I think he wants to see you."

Immediately, Mallow jumped excitedly and started off towards his mother. Only to slow his pace and slump slightly, trying to downplay his elation. He hoped his mother didn't notice.

Iridine smirked inwardly, but made no other indication that she had seen her son react so childishly.

Mallow paused before going in; he regarded his mother calmly, and then continued on. Each step and gesture was played for an exaggeration and mock facsimile of some of the regal folk that came around. The young man couldn't help it, when he was excited he was so much more careful and aware of everything. Especially his mother and what she would say every time his back slouched or he disrespected someone.

Mallow looked around the somewhat cramped space his parent's restaurant was. There were only six four-person tables around the tiled room as well as two booths crammed to the side. To the left was the main entrance and exit to the building and the right contained the kitchen and the doorway to it.

At one of the four-person tables there sat a rough man with dull burgundy hair and hard brown eyes. He wasn't facing the duo of mother and son. Instead, he appeared to be occupied by a piece of paper.

On the table were three plates of delicious food. Each was filled with Iridine's special corn curry over rice. The dish was filled with pieces of carrot, chicken, onions, and potatoes. Its wonderful scent could be picked up by Mallow from where the boy was standing at the end of the room. His mouth began to water as he thought about it. His mother always made the best curry. He was the best at pasta though. And his father was the self-proclaimed King of Soup.

"Dad…?" Mallow called quietly, unsure of what to say. The young man hadn't seen his father for more than a few seconds in three years. He wasn't sure how to face him.

The man jumped slightly. He looked up and his brown eyes softened. "Son…" he said, somewhat choked up. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has."

An uncomfortable silence permeating within the room like a cold wind let in through a door into a warm room. They didn't quite look each other in the eye and instead let their eyes wander all about the room.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Iridine cried suddenly, causing the two men in the room to jump fearfully. "I didn't make dinner for you guys to stare at it. Eat! Eat!"

Responding to the woman's insistence, Rex Rouge laid the paper on another table and immediately beowolfed down half of the meal with extreme satisfaction. Mallow sat down and began taking swift bites out of his meal as quickly as he could, desperate to hear the reason for his dad's sudden visit. Iridine took a few bites out of her meal, not really interested in it. She found more enjoyment in seeing her boys back home.

'They are both so awkward,' she thought happily.

Once the two were done with the meal, they stood up stiffly and placed the plates on a separate table. Rex reached for the piece of paper on the table, replacing his licked-clean plate with it. He looked at his son with a quiet look of apprehension, for he wasn't sure how his son felt about his constant absence.

He cleared his throat. "Well…um, son…this is…well…" He rubbed the back of his head, completely unsure of how to speak to his son. "Um…"

Iridine kicked her sort-of husband in his shin.

Rex jumped up. He finally found the courage the look his son in the eye and, rather nervously, he said quickly, "How are you, son?"

Mallow, however, was far more comfortable around his father and was eager to speak to him. "Great, dad, I've been doing amazing. Anyone would in this kingdom of trash and graffiti. Honestly, it's been real exciting around here. Also, have you forgotten my name or something? Why am I just 'son' to you?"

Rex raised his hands defensively. "I remember your name, son. Isn't it Mallory, or Mallord or something?"

Iridine kicked him in the shin again and so did Mallow, joining in on the fun.

"Alright, alright, I'm joking, Iridine, Mallow." The older man began to smile, now that the ice was broken and a good meal digesting in each of their bellies.

"I'll give you a bit of time to catch up." Iridine stood up and gathered up the dirty dishes, leaving the two men alone to talk.

"So Dad, how's your life going? What have you been doing? Is it important? Why can't you tell me what it is? What are you doing back? Wha-" Mallow rapidly spouted bullets of questions.

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, Mallow," Rex said, gesturing with his arms for emphasis. "One at a time, boy. Honestly, I just got back."

"Okay," Mallow agreed with the same amount of energy, "What have you been doing, as of late?"

"Mallow, I can't tell you. You know this. You've asked this question before and guess what? The answer hasn't changed."

"Just tell me…have you been cheating on mom?"

"W-w-what?" Rex sputtered, not expecting this from his son. "I would n-never…"

"Really?"

"Well…There was this one really hot…"

"You're kidding! You've got to be joking, when I tell Mom…" Mallow said happily, having picked up on his father's sarcastic tone.

"Tell her, boy. She trusts me. My love for her is truer than the sun and straighter then a sword, unless the sword is a katana or cutlass or some other bent weapon."

"That sounds stupid. I'm sorry, but it does," Mallow said, snickering at the cheese his father produced from his mouth.

"Shut it, boy. Now hurry up, give me another question."

"I mean, how is the sun true? What sense does that make? And you've given more examples of a bent sword than a straight one. I'm not sure I can trust you." Mallow was downright cackling at this point.

Rex groaned audibly. "Forget about it, boy."

"I can't though, it's just so stupid."

Rex facepalmed. "I'm just going to leave now. See you later." He began to slowly stand up out of his seat. Slowly, not too fast, after all, he didn't really want to leave him. But sometimes threatening was necessary, especially with this family.

"No wait, I'm sorry. Please don't leave now." Mallow had a genuine look of disappointment and – could it be? – fear. "You just got back…Can you tell me why you're back? That's something I really want to know."

"Alright, so…Mallow, have you seen the news recently?" Rex waited until his son gave an answer. Mallow gave a slight, confused nod. "Then, I'm sure you've heard about the recent attacks on Hunters, be it the creatures of Grimm or other." Mallow nodded again, excitement was clearly etched in his features. "Well, because of that. There has been a decrease in the amount of Hunters. Their occupation is an important one, so the school that trains Hunters has started a more liberal recruitment program."

"So? What does that have to do with anything?" Mallow asked, more confused than excited now.

"Well, I got me thinking. If they're more desperate, they're probably be more willing to accept candidates, even the ones they wouldn't even consider on normal circumstances. Right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense…" Mallow said, still confused.

"Anyways, Mallow, I'm fully aware of your dream to become a Huntsman. And now, I think you've got a chance." Rex had a jubilant gleam in his eyes; his left foot began to shake rapidly.

"What are you talking about?!" Mallow cried, suddenly very emotional. "Don't suggest something like this to me. I can't even attend a more public combat school, like Signal, due to my hands. My damn hands that don't let me…"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Rex said, once more gesturing with his hands in the attempt to calm his irate son. "Don't think like that. Think more positively, like me. I think that you should be excited for this opportunity. You finally have a chance to achieve your dream…"

"Sometimes it's best to forget about your dreams, than to risk getting them crushed," Mallow whispered sagely.

Rex wisely ignored him. "Why aren't you agreeing with me? Think about it. Your hands are so bad that a public combat school wouldn't accept you. But, what if a more selective combat school was more interested? If they can't fix your hands, then I don't know who can. But I have faith that they can…"

"Stop trying to raise my hopes for this, Dad! I don't need more disappointment in my life." Mallow became quiet, his voice solemn, and his sarcastic tone, ditched.

"I'm not trying to raise your hopes! Just look at this paper and…"

"I don't care about that stupid paper!" Mallow was now yelling and Iridine couldn't help but divert her attention from the dishes. She cracked the door open and stared at the duo, but made no other movement. "And I do agree with you. Maybe Beacon academy could fix my hands, but I'll need to be accepted first and at this point, that doesn't seem like a possibility. You shouldn't even send in an application for the recruitment program." Mallow's voice had become empty as he thought about his situation.

"Well, it's too late for that." Mallow turned to stare at his father, absolutely afraid. "I already sent in the application. And guess what? They've…"

"No, don't tell me. Don't show me anything! I just can't take…" Mallow was nearly trembling in fear. His knees shook and his hands twitched.

"For crying out loud!" roared Rex. "They accepted you! Just let me speak alright!"

"What?" Mallow deadpanned, not quite sure he heard what he thought he heard.

"They accepted you! You're going to Beacon. Aren't you excited?"

"What?" Mallow asked as his voice had started to return to the volume it was before.

"Are you kidding me? Are you still somehow upset?" Rex asked completely confounded by his son's reaction. "You're dreams are about to come true and…"

"Not like this. Nothing makes sense. How could I be accepted?" Mallow began waving his hands in the air, with confused rage. "Those who are accepted at Beacon are either graduates from a smaller school or they are incredibly talented! I'm none of that. I'll just be useless. I'll just be wasting everyone's time." Mallow's voice was very empty and terribly sad, not sure how to respond and thus reacted reflexively.

"Mallow…"

"How did I even get accepted? Can you tell me that?" Mallow asked, trying to restrain himself.

"Well, I had a conversation with their Headmaster and…" Rex started.

"What?! You got to talk to Ozpin? How would you even get to? Can you tell me more? What did he say? What…" Mallow began to fire off more questions, his rage forgotten at the mention of the legendary Beacon Headmaster.

"You know, you've really got to stop asking 'what' and just let me speak," Rex said, slightly annoyed by his son's constant interruptions.

"Alright…" Mallow whispered, calming himself down.

"Anyways, Professor Ozpin was very interested in you and actually invited me to speak with him," Rex began; weary of his son's interruptions. "I had to submit all kinds of test results but each of them allowed you to join. I gave him a blood test, some of your hair, even a urine test…"

"A urine test! What…How…I don't even…"

Rex wisely ignored his son's interjection and instead, continued regardless of his son. "I also had to submit a recording of just you sitting around. But, for some reason you've been accepted. Just think of that."

Mallow did just that. He thought about his father's words and debated what he should do. 'Well, I guess I can't really complain. I mean, I've been given the opportunity to pursue my dream. I just don't want to waste everyone's time. But if Ozpin himself was interested in me, I guess I should go through with it.'

Mallow looked up slowly and stared at his father, his chocolate-brown eyes fearful but excited. "Dad, I've decided that I want to go."

Alright, I hope you've all made it through the stink pile that this probably turned out as. Forgive me. I beg you.

Anyways, if you did like it (not likely) please do either one or all of the following things: review, favorite, follow. If you didn't like it please do either one or all of the following things: leave, flame in a review expressing your deep hate for it (and maybe some constructive criticism? Please? :) :| :( ).

I'll be very grateful either way.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask in any way possible.

Have a nice life!