a/n: Yo, everyone! It took longer than I planned but here it is. I cleaned this as much as I could. The original was so silly I think I'd already scrapped all of its contents.

edit: I put in some translations for EMIYA's lines because some can't understand what he's saying. I think I won't either. Heh.

warning: OOC-ness. Probably. If I got anything wrong about the RWBY universe, please forgive me. I only watched the first volume of the series (the storyline, action scenes, and characters were interesting but the animation, I apologize if I offend anyone, sucks) and I barely referred to the wiki. This is Rated T for language but not much else. Maybe a bit of gore? Hmm... Oh, yeah, and I'm also pro Qrow/Summer shipping. If you don't like that, well, you probably should turn back now. There's not much romance in this chapter, but there'll be in the following ones. Nothing explicit though, otherwise, this'll be Rated M.

disclaimer: I own nothing blah, blah, and blah...

Qrow took another skeptical look at the small bundle of pink flesh for the nth time, still wrapped snuggly within the soft red cloth he found it with while flailing uselessly on top of his unmade bed. The boy caught his glance and let out a babble of baby words. Qrow frowned, the distinct impression that he'd just been insulted chipping at his mind. The judging look within intelligent pools of molten gold was very telling what prompted such feeling.

The moment he saw the child, he knew it was more than what it appeared. Heaven knew he didn't want to take it with him; he's not very fond of babies at the moment because of Raven's bulging stomach. It was very childish he admitted, but he was irritated all the same because his twin's pregnancy was the very reason why he was scouting alone in the first place. His intuition also screamed that bringing the little thing along was a terrible idea, and his intuition had never been wrong before.

Despite his better judgement, however, he carefully scooped the babe from its small indent between the roots of the tree and protectively carried it with him back to Vale. He argued with himself that Ozpin might have something in mind for the child—after all, it was anything but ordinary considering the circumstances of how and where he found it, or it was only to ease his conscience for he wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing he left a toddler to fend for itself in the border of the Grimlands. The aftermath of such a decision though just proved that doing so was such a huge regrettable mistake.

Ozpin, the damned dotard, gave the baby boy a look, a brief smile, and then promptly declared him as Qrow's new charge.

"It is only reasonable," Ozpin said. "You found him and perhaps you were the first person he saw so you're already registered in his mind as close-of-kin. Besides, the rest of your team had taken a marital leave. You should have one too."

No matter how much Qrow had protested, the old man's mind was made. The child would be in Qrow's care and Ozpin would partake to appropriate him a stipend to sustain the necessities needed as the baby grew older. Qrow growled at the thought. He had the feeling that Ozpin just wanted to keep the child a secret and was dumping the responsibility to him. How was he supposed to take care of the little thing when his own life was a mess?

Qrow sipped from his newly filled flask and glared at the baby. The child just stared back, almost with a deadpan expression.

"I bet you're hungry," Qrow mumbled, observing its behavior. The little kid did not cry or wail, so it was hard to tell if it ever needed anything. He didn't know the first thing about taking care of a child. What was he supposed to feed the goddamned thing?

The huntsman considered his flask and its content. He wouldn't want to share but well, sometimes, desperate times calls for desperate measures…

On second thought, Ozpin wouldn't want the child to have an addiction at such a young age. Yeah. Ozpin would definitely strangle him.

"You need a name," Qrow said after a while. "I can't just keep referring to you as 'you' or 'the baby'. I can't write that in your registry either."

The hunter convinced himself that the child did not just nod in the affirmative, as if it understood what he just said.

"Maybe I should just call you Red," Qrow muttered to himself. It was short, accurate, and rightfully suited the child, what with the cloth it was wrapped in and its bright ginger hair.

The baby's face scrunched, and then he gurgled something dryly.

"Fine. It's uncreative," Qrow told him, rolling his eyes. "Maybe Blood?"

The child harrumphed.

"How 'bout Crimson?"

A sword suddenly materialized, aiming at Qrow and making the black-haired drunkard yelp.

"Nevermind, then," Qrow said with a snort, taking another drink from his flask as the sword disappeared in broken motes of light. The thing was definitely a freak of nature. What kind of overpowered semblance is spamming swords from thin air anyway?

Damn. Qrow had the feeling that the next years of his life would be agonizing. What the hell had he gotten himself into again?

Counter Guardian EMIYA had never really thought much of the small insignificant proviso in his mission that he'll be reverted into a baby when he entered Remnant. He just thought it was a bizarre condition and wanted the job to be over with regardless the circumstances. Going through with the reality that he wouldn't be able to move beyond flailing his stubby limbs for months on end, however, grated his nerves to almost snapping point.

EMIYA was very knowledgeable about the life in Remnant: its inhabitants, its history, and the technological advances it made through the course of its existence. Alaya had supplied him that knowledge to improve his efficiency and competence. He was capable enough with his normal arsenal, and the access to the Counter Force made him almost nigh unbeatable. So for the life of him, he couldn't quite fathom what purpose did Alaya have to degenerate him into a simpering toddler? It was annoying enough that he'd have to depend on another person to do everything for him, but that someone had to feed him and change his—ugh—damned diapers was just absolutely humiliating. The fact that he was given guardianship to the very person who found him made his life all the more miserable.

If ever he crossed paths with that damned annoying old man displayed on the Hunter's scroll, he'll shove Excalibur so high up his arse his predecessors will feel it.

The Counter Guardian's first year in Remnant has been hell. Qrow Branwen, his new legal guardian, was a certified drunkard, lived in a pigsty he called his apartment, and he didn't even know how to cook! His only saving grace was that he knew and admit that he's hopeless, accepting help from anyone who was willing to lend a hand.

Well, he can't really blame the guy either, to think of it. Qrow Branwen did not know the first thing about looking after a baby or raising a child, but he certainly did try. He remembered watching the raven-haired hunter remodeling his guest room to a nursery while reading a book about parenting and telling him bedtime stories at night although he didn't really ask for (or need) it. He was awkward and clueless; so much as the baby Counter Guardian lost count how many times he rolled his eyes at the man's many attempt to treat him like a child. Thankfully, he stopped after a few months, understanding that he was older than he appeared with the one too many times he traced a sword just to get the point across.

Summer Rose, his self-proclaimed aunt, was the most constant in his and his guardian's life. She's Qrow's Team leader and, to the Counter Guardian's amusement, unrequited love interest. She lived with Qrow's other teammate named Tai and his daughter, Yang but she came by Qrow's apartment every morning to check on him and sometimes brought little Yang Xiao Long to keep him company. It was Summer who prepared his milk and cleaned him up while Qrow remained his useless self (seriously, the guy need to man-up and be more responsible if he ever wanted Summer to like him back and stop pinning after that other teammate they have—yup, their team's a mess). For someone who had been independent and self-sufficient for as long as he could remember, that arrangement was greatly degrading for the Counter Guardian. The humiliation that settled on his gut every time she did so was the reason he pushed himself to learn how to stand and walk using reinforcement as a crutch after that one year.

Sighing to himself, one-year-old Counter Guardian EMIYA, registered in Remnant as Russel Archer, rolled awake on the bed he occupied in Qrow's little apartment and rubbed his eyes to remove the blurs that lingered, a small inconvenience that was also brought by his baby-fication. He wiggled his way down the four-poster bed (EMIYA vehemently insisted to have one instead of a cradle) and went out of the door, which he always left ajar so he wouldn't have to ask Qrow to open it for him again.

Qrow's apartment was now significantly more organized and well-kept since he was able to walk and move around, given that he was the one who tidied up after the dark-haired hunter's cyclical mess. The small toddler pushed a stool near the kitchen counter and set about making breakfast for himself and his guardian. He had long accepted that he wouldn't be able to survive if he did not take care of everything in this place.

Wiping his stubby hands on a rag after preparing the table, he scampered his way towards Qrow's room. The man was still sound asleep, no surprise in that considering the pungent smell of alcohol permeating in the man's room. Russel slid the window open to freshen the air and let the light of the morning dawn shine inside. He then dragged himself up the slumbering Hunter's bed and shook the raven-haired drunkard's form.

"Wake up," he told his sleeping guardian. When the man only mumbled something sleepily and rolled back into his pillow, the babified Counter Guardian huffed in annoyance.

Qrow's danger senses was the only thing that saved him when a sharpened sword suddenly embedded itself on the place where his head last laid.

"What the fu—" he paused, catching the crisp bright face of his small charge scrunched in irritation, "—reaking heck was that for?" Qrow snapped at his newly self-appointed alarm clock.

The little boy scoffed at him, crossing his arms imperiously. "'S mownin', yeshi bum (It's morning, lazy bum)," he said, his lower lip jutting out at an effort to look intimidating. "Isn' t'day yo pewsh day at wowk? (Isn't today your first day at work?)"

Qrow bit his lip, suppressing the laugh that bubbled in his gut. He always did whenever his charge tried to speak, having yet to properly pronounce his r's and l's because of his incomplete set of teeth and flabby tongue. Due to that inconvenience, no matter how much the child attempted to appear mature and adult-like, it just always backfired and Qrow had to swallow his laughter lest the boy take it as an insult and start spamming swords again. Well, that is, until he realized what the kid just said.

"Oh, hell," Qrow muttered, standing up from his bed and frantically searching for a new change of clothes. "What time is it?"

"Not yet shix (Not yet six)," the boy answered. He crawled his way down Qrow's bed and said, "I made b'eakpash. Eat b'pow ya go. (I made breakfast. Eat before you go.)"

Qrow raised a brow as the one-year-old boy scuttled out of his room and left him to get dressed. He had to question himself if he was crazy knowing that he didn't find anything peculiar about that particular picture. Living with the unpredictable and extraordinary kid for a year had probably accustomed the Hunter and just deigned to take it all in stride.

The child was definitely an anomaly. He had a massive amount of Aura, which was already unlocked way before he was found, mind you, that Qrow was sure the boy would merely shrug a hi-grade dust explosion at close range, and its only growing larger as he aged. His control and understanding of his semblance was already absolute and masterful, something that was hardly possible for a child barely a year old. Besides that, the boy thought like an adult—intelligent, smart, and rational. He progressed in academics way faster than any child had the right to that it was astonishing. The fact that the boy could already walk and run (and fight) at a year after his birth (was he even borne?) was a miracle already in on itself.

Perhaps Ozpin was right to invest a lot in the child's growth. The old manipulative man had been as impressed as him when he read Qrow's regular reports about the boy, but Qrow had the feeling that the man wasn't nearly as surprised, as if he already expected so much from Qrow's strange charge. In that regard, Qrow believed that the headmaster of Beacon Academy had not been completely honest with him. And the dark-haired Hunter was sure that whatever that was, it will come bite him in the ass when he least expects it, no doubt about that.

Yeah,he thought dryly as he combed his hair and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, because I have the most awesome fucking Semblance in all of Remnant.

Such a fucking injustice for someone as dashing as him, Qrow mulled as he admired himself. Now, if he could just find his amazing red cape, he'd be all set to go.

Like the boy just told him, it was his first day at work as a new teacher in Signal Academy. To be honest, Qrow didn't want to have another job. The random tasks and missions Ozpin gave him more than sufficed to feed the both of them, and that did not include the amount the old man sent his account to appropriate for the growing child. However, Qrow could feel his charge getting restless. The boy had seen no one else except himself, Summer, and Yang during the course of the past year. With the progress he made while cooped up in the apartment, Qrow had the feeling that the boy would start his combat education earlier than most. Qrow wanted to be prepared, just in case, and the extra income would not hurt.

After clipping the small red cape on his shoulders, Qrow grabbed his trusty weapon and joined his charge in the kitchen. Qrow used to marvel at the boy's efficiency, cleaning and maintaining his clustered apartment all by his lonesome while he wandered about at night and drunk himself hoarse with a splitting headache in the morrow. Now his entire apartment looked pristine but lived-in at the same time. The delicious smell that pervaded from the kitchen only accentuated the homey atmosphere, tugging a smile from his lips and enticing a growl from his stomach.

The table was already set, a plate of well-seasoned fried rice, omelet, and bacon with a warm cup of freshly brewed tea lay waiting for him while his small ward sat at his baby chair patiently.

"You cewtenyi took yo time (You certainly took your time)," the boy wryly commented as Qrow took a seat.

"Gee, forgive me for trying to make a good lasting impression," Qrow replied.

The boy scoffed. "Sta't by yeaving yo fyashk he' (Start by leaving your flask here)," the child told him.

"Oh, no can do, you brat," Qrow answered defensively. "Alcohol is my fuel. How many times do we have to go through this?"

"Yo so hopeyess (You're so hopeless)," his charge said with a roll of his eyes. "An' I'm not a bwat! (And I'm not a brat!)"

"I'll believe you when you say 'refrigerator' without twisting your tongue to a knot," Qrow teased.

The boy glared hotly at him, which Qrow conveniently ignored in favor of eating his breakfast. It was heavenly as always. If there's one thing that the Hunter ever found fortunate about in this forced arrangement, it's the food his charge made him every day since he learned how to move about in the apartment on his own. The boy was pretty passionate about the culinary arts, conquering his kitchen as his own without a hitch. Not that Qrow complained, as a matter of fact, he'd already upgraded the kitchen to that of a five-star restaurant for the boy's use. It's not like the child could injure himself even if he tried, anyway, what with the amount of Aura he was packing.

"Summer will be here in a few minutes," Qrow told his charge after scarfing his food. "Be on your best behavior, ok?"

"Yeah, I know," the boy answered, a smirk growing on his lips. "I even put shome good wo'ds po' you, oh hope'ess oyd cow. (I'll even put some good words for you, oh hopeless old crow)"

Qrow gave him a glare. "Shut up," the Hunter barked, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

"You knew he' po' mo' than sheve'ay yea's an' 'ya stiyy can't tey he' you 'ike he' mo' than jush a f'iend? You sewyesly need a wingman an' I'm mo' than happy ta do it po' you! Am I the besht cha'd o' what? (You knew her for more than several years and you still can't tell her you like her more than just a friend? You seriously need a wingman and I'm more than happy to do it for you! Am I the best charge or what?) "

"Stop talking, Russ," the older man told the rambling boy. "I can't understand a word you just said."

"Oh yeah?" the toddler challenged. He hated it when Qrow pointed out his garbled speech. Then, he started singing. "Cow and Summe' sitting on a twee. K-I—"

Qrow fled from his apartment with a red face and the teasing tune of his condescending little prick for a ward echoing on repeat inside his head. He wished the boy didn't have such a highly developed perception. Maybe then, he wouldn't have to put up with the kid's merciless harassment and badgering jabs about his unrequited love interest towards his Team leader.

Damn it. Someday, he'll show that brat. He'll definitely confess to Summer. Not today, though. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that…

Yeah, maybe he really is hopeless.

a/n: Liked it? Hated it? Tell me! I'll reply to the reviews through PMs. Thank you for reading. That's all for now. I still have a lot of chapters to clean up so, ciao!

p.s. To those who had no idea about RWBY, Qrow's Semblance is Misfortune, which is both sad and hilarious at the same time. Remnant have a color naming tradition so I named EMIYA 'Russel' which means red.