Time.
Time was important to Dove Bronzewing. This didn't mean he rushed, or that he was particularly organized or anything. It just meant that he knew how precious time was.
When you think of Beacon Academy, what do you suppose comes to mind? The four most prestigious instructors in Vale? They were certainly experts in their fields, both as educators and as huntsmen.
How about the rising stars that were Team RWBY? The leader who was handpicked by the school's headmaster two years early... The Schnee Dust Company heiress... And the other two members had more than enough to stand with their peers.
How much time have they wasted? How much more has he wasted?
You may also think of Team JNPR. That team's leader had a questionable start, but competent teammates soon fixed that. No less than the prestigious Pyrrha Nikos, training up an illustriously incompetent Arc to something far more.
Another group may be Team CFVY, the second year over-achievers. They've been in less news segments than Team RWBY, and less present on campus than Team JNPR, but the students of Beacon still know of the team that can take missions meant for veteran huntsmen. Their personality, style, and character are as striking as the last two teams.
How much time was left? Was there any at all?
And finally, the last team that people think of when they hear Beacon Academy: Team CRDL. They're popular for a... different reason. Of course, it's their own fault. After all, they're the ones who chose to isolate themselves. The ones who ignored other people's peace, and ignored other people's presence in general. They acted without a care for anyone else. Because they didn't have the time to worry about that.
And Dove Bronzewing most certainly didn't have time either.
Who cares where this humble, below average huntsman came from? He was already written off the moment he decided to settle for something ordinary. He didn't go to a prestigious combat school like Signal or Waygate. No, he didn't have time to do anything but settle for a martial arts dojo, led by a retired huntsman.
He didn't have extraordinary grades; he was just an ordinary highschooler, who managed to not fail nor excel.
He didn't have a tragic backstory, or heroic relatives, or newsworthy friends; He had an overworked father, a stay-home mother. All perfectly ordinary in the grand scheme of things.
His weapon? A sword. There was no weaponsmith or huntsman family friend for him to learn from. He picked up tricks from the metalworking shop, who made blades the same way they made pipes and rebar.
Still, he applied for Beacon. And he got in. Passing the practical exam, meeting the requirements for the educational exam, Dove Bronzewing knew he was on borrowed time. He was no hero, nor did he possess anything special, so he had to make use of his time as best he could.
What a joke.
His inauguration into Beacon was hardly surprising. Ozpin was probably talking to everyone else in the room, but Dove knew he was one of the many who would be considered wasted potential. He didn't have time to worry about anything else.
They say time flies. Ozpin ensures you do to.
He was one of the ones who weren't prepared for the launch. And one of the ones who didn't have the benefit of an exceptional friend, unique semblance, or past experience. So, unlike his namesake, he fell.
There's no time to complain.
There really wasn't. It was initiation, and he first stumbled into a young named Sky Lark. Carefree, touchy, annoying, but Dove had no time to complain. So he didn't. They moved on, struggling against Beowolves while the better students rode around on Ursas.
He was he who was.
Cardin and Russel soon joined. They journeyed to the ruins. Their only resistance was an immature Ursa, barely enough to qualify as a minor. They suffered, cheering when they pushed it back. They also stopped cheering that day when they heard another team defeat an Ancient Nevermore and a giant Deathstalker.
The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces...
The first and last day they were spoken to as proud huntsmen-in-training. The next teams were named, one lead by an Arc, the other led by a prodigy two years younger. Cardinal didn't bother staying in the auditorium.
They had their dorm. They had their classes. They didn't have time to play nice. They all barely made it, and they all vowed to get better. So they didn't bother trying to put the time an effort in to fake it.
Make time? You don't make it. You borrow it.
An insult among friends. An insult to strangers. Who cares what anyone else says? You laugh, because you need to laugh. Then, you need remember you borrowed time for that laugh. You can't waste any time on trying to placate people who would never talk to you anyways. He couldn't waste time trying see their point of view. They wouldn't see his, after all.
We're good friends with Jaune now. He's even offered to take care of our homework.
We were ordinary. We had to pass, work, strive and fail. Arc was not. He had luck, heritage, a Nikos. He relied on RWBY; they relied on themselves. They were ordinary. And ordinary people were not saints. They were anger, vengeful, jealous. And they were not wrong, because those were natural, ordinary feelings.
Ursa Major. Cardin. Jaune Arc.
We were the majority. The reason why an expert huntress had to accompany the class. Elder grimm were the most dangerous. We couldn't fight, not because of determination or willpower. We never had the time to prepare. Never had the chance to stand against it.
Team JNPR. Team RWBY.
They rose. We fell. We didn't have time to make up for our actions in the first week. We didn't have time to waste tolerating jeers or glares. We couldn't. We couldn't waste time in the gym; we settled for equipment in our dorm. We couldn't waste time training outside in the early morn; we used it to rest.
Our first call to the Headmaster's office.
What was the call about? Doesn't matter. The story already told you: There was exactly one time when he considered us proud huntsmen-in-training. Ozpin didn't look at us, he looked passed us.
The other schools had sent their teams to Vale. It was Beacon's time to practice and prepare for the Vytal festival. Under the watchful eyes of Glynda Goodwitch, aspirants would be sharpened to huntsmen and huntresses.
Team CRDL will be sparring against Pyrrha Nikos today.
Dove Bronzewing, as well as the rest of Team CRDL would be a whetstone to sharpen them. Disposable, while put on display. Under the watchful eyes of fellow students and people from abroad, just so they could show off how much better Pyrrha Nikos was.
They performed as intended.
And in all that time spent, burned, borrowed and wasted, that was all they amounted to. A factoid for the real huntsmen teams. They were a joke. Team CRDL seethed, shrugged, stood, and pouted. In that order.
Dove Bronzewing stood silent, for that was all he could do. All he had ever done. All he would ever continue to do.
His closed eyes wandered. Many people cheered for Pyrrha. Many people cheered for Beacon. Many people enjoyed the fight.
None for CRDL, of course, but that's because they were strangers. CRDL were strangers to the world, and vice versa. There was no time for anything else.
Class dismissed. People dispersed.
The thing about the ordinary, is that everything is ordinary until pure, random chance changes it. Then, it stops being ordinary. And if your chance was good, if you bided your time, and if the stars shined on you, it might even reach extraordinary.
This is a tale of CRDL, of Dove Bronzewing, so that doesn't happen. That can't happen, for the extraordinary are RWBY and JNPR and CFVY. And the teams from abroad.
And yet, seeing a certain silent duo from an extraordinary team was enough for chance to change the ordinary.
They didn't speak. They didn't acknowledge the world. They were their own team.
Sun and Neptune socialized. Scarlet and Sage did not. Dove Bronzewing saw both, and had intended to ignore both. Yet, he noticed eyes on him. No, probably just on his team. His own squinted eyes peered back. There stood Sage Ayana. Like everyone else, he said nothing to Team CRDL.
We didn't speak. We didn't acknowledge the world. We were our own team.
And yet, his actions were the same as they had been when Team CRDL. He looked. At them. Not passed them. Not at what they've done, where they've come from, or who they were.
Dove barely tried to remember the transfers from abroad. Yet, one name stuck out to him. He didn't know why.
And all Sage Ayana did was raise an eyebrow. Again.
It wasn't because of what they did. It wasn't because of what happened to them.
He asked an unspoken question. A completely empty question, that demanded no answer. And then he walked away, leaving the emptiness behind for CRDL to fill in the blanks.
It was a team of huntsmen, who saw them standing there. Watching their own team. Their own Team CRDL, who were huntsmen as well.
Dove was not well versed. He didn't know nor care what the name Sage Ayana meant. That wasn't his problem, and he didn't care about strangers. But now, the empty question was his problem. It was their problem.
So much time was burned away. So much more to be borrowed and wasted.
What was the question? Of course, the answer was Time. Time was important to Dove Bronzewing. To Russel Thrush, Sky Lark and Cardin Winchester. So what was the question?
What had been spent. Why had it been borrowed. How was it wasted?
Was it wasted? Did they just borrow? Doesn't matter now, that was in the past, and for someone who cared about time, he would simply have to consider the future. Even if there wasn't enough time.
So it was time to make time. An awkward sentence for an awkward thought.
They were still not extraordinary. They would no doubt lose in the tournament. They would probably hurt all over in the weeks leading up to and following the festival.
But they didn't care. It was their time. They weren't extraordinary, but chance let them be more than ordinary.