Chapter 1—The Orphan
The moon hung high in the sky, lighting up the old, cracked street of Central Mistral. His boots made the slightest clicking noise on the dark, midnight sidewalk. Eerie shadows lingered beyond the moonlight, lurking around corners and alleyways and potholes, hiding Oum knew what. He moved on, cool, calm, relaxed, down the street. The streetlights flickered weakly. He could hear shuffling to his left and he watched it out the corner of his eye, wary but not worried.
He had no wishes of continuing toward his initial destination, but where else was he to go? He had nothing-not even a full name-for himself. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to, nobody to wonder whether or not he was coming home at night (though tonight was different-three people waited on him, two out of nothing but pure greed). He had nothing. So why not keep moving forward?
He followed the maze of streets that led to the run down building. An old wooden sign hung above the doorway, reading "Ashar's Home for Misfortunate Children". Below the white letters, chipping through the red base paint, had been etched the word HELL. The painted words "Misfortunate Children" had been crossed out multiple times with a knife and replaced with the large, carved out word, orphans.
The building was not dark. It was not sinister. Malevolent. Creepy. Foreboding. Intimidating. Scary. The building was just old, one of the oldest buildings in Central Mistral, with the paint chipped, the boards coming loose, the nails rusted and sticking out, the glass windows mainly shattered, the porch steps mostly collapsed, and the sidewalk and road before re it full of potholes and cracks.
He sighed, trying to take as long as he could in ascending the stairs.
He was sixteen years old, turning seventeen in less than a month, and had no hope of ever leaving Ashar's until he was eighteen. Despite his young age, his hair was silver, and his eyes, whose abilities were enhanced through circular glasses, were deep chocolate brown. He wore a dark green shirt with black trim, white buttons, and coattails, and his pants and shoes were completely black. He wore a dark green scarf, pinned in place with two small cross-shaped pins. The back of ear pin was engraved in a letter-the left pin had the letter F and the right had an H. In his hand was a black cane. Hidden within the straight part, using the straight silver ending as a hilt, was a thin, deadly silver blade imbued with Dust.
With a deep sigh, he ascended the creaking steps up the porch, pushing open the unlocked door. His footfalls made the boarded floors squeak through the dark orphanage. All the lights were off, and every member of the house was asleep.
He sighed, walking calmly through the house. He paused at the stairs, looking up with one hand resting on the rail.
He heard a board creak above him and his heart dropped. Great Oum, Ash was awake! He gulped, frozen.
Soft footsteps thumped faintly on the wood, and though it obviously wasn't Ash, he didn't let his guard down.
A head peered down the stairs, peeking out of the shadows, wearing a wide grin (missing a few teeth) and bright green eyes. The little boy had bright ginger hair that fell into his eyes and was wearing a bowler hat the was far too big for his head and kept falling over his ears and down into his eyes. The boy pushed the brim of the hat up, only to have it slip down again. "Ozpin!" he breathed loudly, visibly ecstatic.
"Keep it down," the young man, Ozpin, breathed, forcing down a laugh. He silently climbed up the stairs, where the ginger-headed boy was practically bouncing with anticipation.
Ozpin smiled, walking past the young boy, who bounced next to him as they approached one of the boys' room.
"Did you get it, Ozpin, did you get it?"
"Yes, Roman. I got it," Ozpin laughed. He opened the door to the room.
Roman gasped. "You got it?!" he cried, following Ozpin in.
Ozpin hushed him, but the two other boys who slept in the room were already awake and sitting on their beds, facing the door. "Well well well," one of them said. He was seventeen and had short black hair and blue eyes that were narrowed in Ozpin's direction. "You're alive."
Ozpin kept his face emotionless. "Apparently."
"And you didn't get caught," the other boy said smugly. He had long pale blonde hair and dark green eyes.
"And," Roman piped up, "he got it!"
The two boys' eyes widened. The dark haired boy, Zuben Claw, looked at Ozpin. "You got it?"
Ozpin nodded.
"I told you Leo!" Roman cheered.
"Keep your voice down!" Zuben snapped.
Roman ducked his head. "Sorry..."
Leo Rafter and Zuben looked at Ozpin. "So," Zuben said in a low voice. "Where is it?"
Ozpin pulled back his coat, keeping the smug grin off his face. The first thing he pulled out was another cane. It was black with an orange base with a black symbol that resembled a jack-o-lantern's face. Ozpin held it out to Roman whose face lit up and he did a little excited dance.
Roman snatched it from Ozpin's hands, giggling. "Does it have a blade?" Roman asked.
"No," Ozpin admitted. "However, the bottom flips up when you press here," he continued, pointing to a button on the handle, "to reveal a sight. This button," he said, pointing at the next button, "shoots a bullet. Its a little loud, and a few of them are imbued with fire Dust."
Roman grinned. "Awesome!"
Ozpin gave a faint smile. "And the handle can unhook and double as a grappling hook."
Roman bounced excitedly. "Thank you thank you thank you!" the boy cried, flinging his arms around Ozpin's waist. Ozpin stared at the top of the boy's lopsided bowler hat, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. Before he could react, the boy had pulled back, grinning elatedly at his cane.
"Where's the rest?" Zuben asked, his voice low yet clearly a demand.
Ozpin pulled back his jacket again, pulling out two burlap bags whose contents clinked together like glass. Ozpin tossed a bag into the laps of both Zuben and Leo. Leo opened his excitedly while Zuben just looked impassively at his own.
Leo pulled out a blue crystal, sneering in dissatisfaction.
"Uncut Dust crystals, one of each element."
"Uncut?" Leo demanded.
"Mm," Ozpin replied simply. "It was all thay had. And besides, there's more Dust in Uncut crystals anyways."
"But they're harder to fit into a weapon!" Leo protested, half rising.
Zuben snapped, "Quiet. Don't wake up Ashar."
"Sorry," Leo muttered, sitting bsck down.
"It was all they had," Ozpin repeated. What he had done was wrong, but was either that or be snitched on by Zuben. Ozpin had decided it was much better just to steal some equipment rather than face Ashar's wrath.
"Oh, sure," Leo sneered, rolling his eyes. "I bet you're hiding the Cut crystals under that coat of yours."
"Leo, that's enough. I'm sure Ozpin did his best," Zuben said.
Out of the two, Leo Rafter was the more brash and hot headed, but Zuben held control. On the outside, he was calm, kind, and respectful. But Ozpin knew what lay behind that mask. Zuben was cruel, calculating, and murderous. If there was something-or someone-in the way of his goal, Zaffire Claw wouldn't hesitate to eliminate it without a shred of remorse.
"Yeah!" Roman cheered in agreement. "I bet those filthy faunus don't know what hit them!"
Ozpin's heart dropped at Roman's words. He saw Zuben shoot a cold smile at Roman. Ozpin inwardly sighed. The boy was so impressionalbe, and it seems all Ozpin's attempts to steer the boy away from racisim towards the faunus had failed under Zuben and Leo's constant string of degration.
"Well, Ozpin, the least we can say is thank you," Zuben said coolly.
Ozpin kept his face still.
"You're secret is safe with us," Zuben said scornfully.
Ozpin grit his teeth.
"However," Zuben added.
Ozpin's breath caught. There it was-the catch he had been waiting for.
"If you do indeed get accepted, I expect... more."
"Like what, Zuben?" Ozpin asked calmly.
"A permanent supply of Dust."
Leo's eyes glittered greedily as Ozpin hesitated.
"It should be easy for such a successful Huntsman, I'm sure, as you DO require Dust for all your weapons. You should be able to spare a few crystals every month."
Ozpin had no choice. It was this, or let Zuben tell Ashar that he had applied to a Hunting Academy in the Kingdom of Vale, and that fate was much worse.
"Of course," Ozpin agreed without a hint of irritation or reluctance. "What else could be expected from such a productive friendship?"
"What about me?" Roman asked.
"Quiet, kid," Leo spat.
Roman ducked his head, glaring at the ground. The brim of his hat slipped into his eyes.
"Well, now that that's over," Zuben said simply, "I believe sleep is in order. Goodnight, boys."
He calmly slipped into his own bed while Leo crawled into his across the room. Roman clambered into his own, hiding his precious bowler hat under his bed. Ozpin smiled. That hat was as important to Roman as Ozpin's cross pins were-they were the only thing they had of their parents.
The pins Ozpin wore on his scarf were presented to Hunters who graduated from one of the Junior Hunting Academies in Vale, Signal Academy. Ozpin's parents had trained there, but he never knew where they had gone next.
Roman's hat had belonged to his father, and had once had a note taped to it, giving Roman his name, birthday, and why his father had left him-much more than what Ozpin had.
Ozpin had been left with pins and a name. Was it his first name? His last name? When was his birthday? Why was he an orphan? Were his parents dead, or did they abandon him? And why oh why was he forced to exist in such a dreadful place?
Ozpin sighed, pulling the blankets up to his chin, eyes drooping. The raid had tired him out more than he had at first thought. As he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, he kept one hope on his mind:
There was a chance that, soon, he'd be free. Free from Ashar, free from mistreatment, free from lies and betrayal, free from the Orphanage. Free to be himself. To do as he pleased. Free. Free. Free.