RWBY is property of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type-Moon, neither of which I am affiliated with in a professional capacity. I do not profit off of writing or publishing this.
The surprisingly comforting sound of gears grinding against gears filled the ornate office as Ozpin filled out the paperwork necessary for Shirou's new job, the gentle scratch of pen on paper and occasional question between the two disrupting the atmosphere. Finally, Shirou sat back, pretending to scan the papers in his grasp for any inconsistencies that he could correct before he turned them over to the powerful man. Appearing to be satisfied with the unreadable writing, he leaned over the desk, the papers in his outstretched hand. Ozpin took them and scanned over them himself. As he watched his new boss read, Shirou heard the chiming of a clock tower outside the massive window that overlooked the campus far below. He stood up and walked over, taking in the view of tiny lights far below the office portraying the school in a soft, almost mysterious view at night. What would he find here at this school for warriors? A cough directed his attention back to the man at his back.
Ozpin stood up from his chair, grabbing a mug as he did so. "Well, now that the paperwork is out of the way, why don't you really tell me who you are?" The tone in Ozpin's question was so casual that Shirou's mind briefly stopped working. Had he been figured out so quickly? How? What gave it away? Ozpin raised the mug to his lips, tilting it up to take a swig. Satisfied with his beverage of choice, he continued. "A huntsmen of your caliber would be well-known in our circle, and we have no record of anybody remotely close to matching your appearance or age. Which could mean anything. Anything." Ozpin set the mug aside on his desk and grasped his cane, his knuckles popping slightly as his grip tightened. No longer as hungry or distraught as he was earlier, Shirou took a good look at the oddly shaped walking stick and knew everything about it immediately.
It was a weapon, wielded to its fullest capacity by somebody very powerful. Shirou noted its location in its newly found home that was the Unlimited Blade Works before realizing he had yet to answer the question. He couldn't reveal the secret of magic or else the Clock Tower...
Wait.
The Clock Tower didn't exist here. This wasn't his world. He was free to share the knowledge of the existence of magic. He didn't have to lie and give an answer that would land him in trouble.
Suddenly, the weight of the situation seemed to collapse in on him all at once. This wasn't his world. There was a good chance he'd never see Rin again. He was alone in a world filled with monstrosities that threatened to overrun all of the safe havens of the people. He had no means, no home, nothing beyond the clothes on his back and the swords in his world. Had Archer ever felt like this, this overwhelming feeling of loneliness and solitude?
Shirou felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up from the marble floor, he met cautious brown eyes. He took a moment to reflect and realized that, at some point, he had collapsed onto his knees and began hyperventilating. Shirou took a moment to collect himself and pushed himself off of the floor and stood before Ozpin. He took a deep breath.
"I'm from a world named Earth."
The clock tower in the distance had chimed several more times while Shirou had talked. During his tale, Ozpin had directed them back to their respective seats. He had not said a word while the dimensionally displaced boy told him what had led up to this moment in time. Ozpin learned of the existence of other magic and just what the red haired boy could do with it. Shirou had found some amusement when he had projected Ozpin's cane; the man had double checked whether or not he was still holding the original. When he discovered that Shirou was as nearly as proficient with it as he was, his eyebrows had shot up almost to his hairline. That was some time ago. Now, the two sat in silence, the lights of the room dimmed down low as their master and his guest sat in contemplation.
It was with great deliberation that Ozpin finally spoke. "I think," he paused for a heartbeat before continuing, "that we should not reveal the full scope of your abilities." He watched Shirou for several seconds, watching for a reaction. Finding none, he continued. "Nor should we reveal the truth about where you are from. There are some people who would seek to abuse your strength." Again, there was no reaction. "Unfortunately, I am one of them." That had a response: a quirk of an eyebrow as Shirou gazed at him curiously, looking at him like he was trying to read his mind. For all Ozpin knew, he was.
"I don't have any malicious intent, I assure you. In fact, I merely wish to resolve a dangerous situation before it devolves into something far more... disastrous." Ozpin lead forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Behind his hands, his face sat in a grim expression, his mouth set in a deep frown and his brow furrowed.
Shirou watched him for another couple seconds, the turning of cogs the only noise in the room.
"What is this situation?" Those brown eyes so much like his steeled and hardened as he asked the question. Ozpin could see that his resolve had been affirmed as he heard of a potential crisis.
"As of late, there has been increased activity of a terrorist group known as the White Fang. We've had reports of a stolen battle suit with their logo causing havoc on a freeway. Many innocents were either injured or killed in car accidents. Luckily, as I understand it, a few of our students were there to minimize the damage." He held Shirou's attention as he called up a few images on a computer screen he had booted up. A video of a large mech with a red wolf's head painted on its arm as it tore through dozens of cars played. "While I appreciate the valor and righteousness displayed by my students, I don't want them to have to fight this battle," Ozpin said quietly. The thought of sending warriors, not even fully grown adults, saddened him greatly.
Ozpin shook those thoughts from his head. "I'd rather the adults handle this so that they may never have to experience the horrors of war. I've seen enough battle and bloodshed in my life that I never want anyone to experience something so terrible." Ozpin stood from his chair and moved towards the window. His gaze was not directed towards the grounds, but towards a building in particular. That building had a few lights on in the windows, but for the most part, their occupants were fast asleep. He watched in the reflection of the glass as Shirou moved to stand beside him. They stayed like that for several minutes, the sound of pinions churning in the background.
"What would you want me to do?" That one sentence, softly asked, brought some relief to Ozpin. It did not stop his guilt though. After all, he was still sending a child out to do battle; the only difference from before was that it wasn't one from this world. Sharing in Shirou's resolve, he strode over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a set of keys. Taking a moment to find and single out one of them, he said, "While most of these keys are useful in that they open the many doors to classrooms and offices here at Beacon, this one is perhaps the most useful to you at the moment. It is the key to the simulation hall where students can run training programs designed to challenge them to their limits and beyond."
He watched him take in the information, filing it away for future use. "You can use those halls at night to ensure you're at peak condition. Just make sure nobody sees you do it. In the future, I'd like for you to be my ace in the hole. Almost nobody knows of your existence at the moment, giving us the advantage. After all, you technically don't exist." Ozpin paused for a second as something nagged at him from the back of his mind. Ah, yes that was right. "Well, except for those hospital records you left." At Shirou's slightly embarrassed expression, he chuckled quietly before reassuring him that those could easily be taken care.
A yawn from Shirou reminded Ozpin of the time. It was very late and Shirou had not slept in anything remotely resembling a bed in more than a week. Chiding himself internally, Ozpin showed Shirou to his room on campus. After he had said good night to the lad, he walked to his own chambers in the academy. As he strolled, he wondered just what he done and what it would mean for the future.
He walked the desolate landscape, the heat of the flames all around him scorching his skin. The broken sword in his hand seemed to carry the weight of the world itself. Every step was a struggle as he picked his way through the rubble of collapsed buildings and burning bodies. Some of them still struggled, weakly calling out to him. When he heard their pleas, he rushed to help them. However, by the time he arrived, they had long since perished.
He felt almost nothing from their deaths. Long ago, he might have felt more, the person that he had been before he had died to this fire alongside all the others might have wept in sorrow or screamed in rage, but now the only emotion that their deaths invoked was a bitter disappointment in himself and a desperate desire to become stronger so that he could prevent another hell like this. He couldn't regret their death. If he did, it would be like spitting in the face of everything they had suffered.
And so he kept walking, searching for survivors as he did. Just as his father did.
The city changed and warped, and what had once been the scene of a raging fire had now become a massive graveyard. Each grave was marked by a sword, stretching out as far as he could see. No matter how far he walked through here, the horizon was lined with an uncountable number of blades. In this way, they were infinite. They were Unlimited.
This was no place for the living. Only the dead or dying saw this burial site with he as its caretaker and gravedigger. It was for this reason that he was surprised as he saw a small figure in the distance as it crested over a hill, its frame lithe and tiny. Its back was turned to him, long white locks of hair a curtain, preventing him from making out any other features about her. He called out for them, but the figure ran away from sight over the next hill.
He woke up.
Shirou blinked away the sleep slowly and lay beneath his stiff white bed sheets, lost in thought at what his dream had meant. He had always dreamed of swords and fire as they were as much a part of him as anything else. But that figure. It reminded him of somebody, but he struggled to remember their name or what they might have looked like.
Shirou pushed the thought away for the moment. He had to get ready for work. It was his first day as the new member of the custodial staff at Beacon. He swung his legs out from underneath the covers of his cot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He took a moment to reflect on everything that had happened the previous night as his feet rested on the cool tile floor beneath his bed frame. He remembered saving those two women, how they had fed them, how he skipped out before they could do more, and finally Ozpin, his new boss, approaching him and offering him a job, the subsequent interview, and finally agreeing to help fight another war. He couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he thought of Rin and how he had gotten involved in the last war he had fought.
He stood up and crossed his small room towards the wardrobe four feet from his bed. His grey uniform, a large white patch with markings that designated him as part of the staff on his back, was pressed and folded neatly. Slipping into his pants and tightening his belt, he considered what Ozpin had asked of him, of keeping his abilities a secret for the moment, of being a secret weapon in a conflict he feared was fast approaching. Shirou could understand the tactic; he had been forced to employ it himself in the Holy Grail War. All the masters had. After all, if such vital information was shared, their enemies could easily come up with a plan to capitalize on any weaknesses or find a way to nullify any advantage they might have had.
As he looked around the small, windowless, and barren room, Shirou pulled on his tool belt, grabbed his mop and bucket, and headed out for the day.
In another wing of the academy, a captive audience of huntsmen-in-training sat, frantically trying to keep pace with their quick tongued professor as they wrote down the lecture's notes. The professor took a quick drink from his thermos as he seemed to blur around the classroom, resuming his lesson with a manic pace, making his words near undecipherable.
"And as they held back the horde of Goliaths, aide came in the form of the great war hero, Charles Arc." He paused for a second, considering something before seeming to realize something. "In fact, I think Mister Arc could tell us something about him. He was, in fact, your grandfather, was he not?" The class collectively paused at that before turning as one to look at the young, unassuming blonde.
Jaune listened to the whispers around him, asking each other if he was really the blood relative of one of the war's greatest heroes and saying that maybe there was actually something to the otherwise unimpressive huntsman wannabe. Jaune tried to think of anything that he could say, trying to remember any of the times his grandfather had tried to tell him and his sisters some old war stories.
"Sorry Professor-" Jaune tried to explain that he was too young to be able to remember any of his grandpa's stories before he had passed away, but he was interrupted suddenly.
"Doctor! I am a doctor, not some mere professor! How many times do I have to tell you children?" Oobleck cried outraged.
Jaune slumped his head into his arms as he heard some of the whispers dissolve into quiet giggles. Just once, he wanted people to not compare him to his family's legacy. He was tired of all the pressure. If he didn't get it at home where he was surrounded by seven younger sisters, he got it in class where he was surrounded by a multitude of huntsmen-in-training who were much more competent than him. At least his partner, Pyrrha, wasn't obsessed with his lineage, though the way she tried to baby him was insufferable at times. It wasn't like he didn't appreciate the help, but the way that she looked at him with pity lately as his progress slowed down made him feel like he wasn't worth the effort.
Before the outraged doctor could continue his rant any further, the bell rang. "Class dismissed. Just remember the assignment on a war hero of your choice is due next class," Oobleck grumbled loud enough for his students to hear. His mutterings as he walked out the door to his next class were inaudible, but those that cared to listen were slightly intimidated.
"Well, at least you're guaranteed an A in this paper, right Jaune?" Nora's voice bubbled from behind him. He turned to face her, only to find her less than an inch away from his face. Surprised, he stumbled backwards. That proved to be a mistake as he tripped over a chair behind him, catching his head on one of the corners of a seat. Taking a moment to stop the world from spinning, Jaune looked up at his most excitable teammate looking sheepish as she helped pick him up from the floor. "Sorry, I didn't think that would happen," she apologize. Brushing some non-existent dust from off his lapel, she asked "Are you okay?"
As the two Noras slowly merged together, Jaune replied with a "I'm fine." He reached a hand behind his head to check for a bump, feeling a wetness that wasn't there before. As he and Nora looked at the blood on his fingers, Nora started wailing, yelling "I'm sorry!" over and over again until Jaune stopped her. "Really Nora, I'm fine. Look. My aura already healed it, see?" He parted the hair on the back of his head to show her that the wound had indeed healed. Jaune watched as his teammate switched from crying to smiling brightly.
"So how about it? Your grandpa's Charles Arc, right?" Seeing her leader nod hesitantly, she exclaimed, "Then you've got this assignment in the bag!"
Jaune sighed. "Yeah Nora, I've got it in the bag. Let's just go to our next class, okay?" He moved towards the door, meeting with the other members of his team just outside in the hall. They traveled in comfortable silence towards their next classes with Nora excitably sharing her plans for their next combat class together. "Sorry guys, my next one's this way. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Their plans made, Jaune raced down the hallway. In his rush, he didn't notice the sign placed to the side, cautioning those who traveled down this path.
He slipped on the wet floor.
When Jaune came to, he found himself looking into a pair of frantic-looking golden brown eyes. His head throbbed when he tried to move, so he opted to lay still and let his aura repair any damage he had incurred. The guy hovering over him looked to be about his age though Jaune was certainly taller by about a good five or so inches. He felt oddly proud of that for some reason. "Are you alright?" He was also very loud. He did not feel proud of that. In fact, he felt annoyed. And a lot of pain. If hard pressed to answer, he would say it was about half and half between the two.
"Please be quiet," Jaune hissed, his eyes screwed shut in anguish. He could feel the skin on the back of his head knit itself back together for the second time that day. Jaune was worried about that. As his mother used to say, things came in threes. He'd spend the rest of his day looking over his shoulder for any sign of danger to his dome. Jaune sighed as he felt the last bits of flesh form in place. He looked back up at the worried boy in front of him.
He was out of uniform, which was dangerous for a student. The rules were very clear that you had to wear your student uniform at all times during the day. Nobody would dare say it aloud, but it was popularly thought that Miss Goodwitch seemed to delight in catching students who broke that rule. However, when she caught two of them breaking that rule at the same time, there was no delight.
There was only fury.
Jaune sat up quickly, catching the other guy off guard. He wondered why that was for a second as he watched him fluster and tried to keep him still. It wasn't like he was still really hurt or anything. Huntsmen brushed off much worse than a possible concussion all the time. Still, he pushed the thought aside as he tried to warn the guy about his imminent doom. After all, even if he didn't know to be quiet near people recovering from blunt force trauma, he had still stayed around to help him.
"Hey man, I don't know if you're skipping a class or not, but you should at least stay in uniform until you get off campus. If Miss Goodwitch catches you like this, she'll have your head." The redhead looked puzzled for a second, before smiling.
"That's alright. I think I'll be fine."
"No, you don't understand. It's like Miss Goodwitch has eyes everywhere. You should change back... to..." The words in his mouth died off slowly as he took another good look at the guy. He wasn't wearing a student's uniform because he was wearing a grey uniform that no student wore.
He was wearing a janitor's outfit.
The other teen stood up from where he was kneeling over Jaune and extended a hand down towards where he was propped up against the wall. Jaune took it and was pulled up. He took a moment to wonder if this could have been him if he hadn't been born an Arc. It wasn't like he had any real battle skills to his name besides what he had copied from Pyrrha and the only things he was really good at were housework. He thanked the other guy and was about to ask for his name when the bell rang.
Jaune hopped and turned around in place, looking down the hall towards where his class was. "Shit! I'm late! I've got to leg it!" He took a runner's stance and launched himself towards his class, but as he took off, he felt something pull on the collar of his jacket. He felt the threads under his arms strain against his weight and his feet slide out from underneath him. They kicked out from his body and caught the edge of a bucket filled grimy water, spilling it all over the floor and soaking into his clothes as he lay on the floor.
"Hey, be careful!" He heard the janitor above him cry out. "You've already slipped and hurt yourself once. Don't do it again! Are you okay?" Affirming the kid that he was fine, Jaune looked down at the floor. Indeed, the floor was still wet, even more so now that the bucket was emptied out onto the floor. He felt guilty about making it so that the poor janitor would have to redo all his work, but he was terrified by the late of being late to his next class. He picked himself up and carefully walked away as fast as he could. As he was about turn the corner, he looked back down the hallway at the janitor who had already begun soaking up all the spilled water.
"Thanks man! Sorry about the bucket!" Jaune called out. Before the wall cut off his line of sight, he saw the redhead wave at him before going back to his mopping. Once he got far enough away, his walk turned into a jog, which turned into a run. It wasn't long before Jaune was sprinting headlong before finally coming to the classroom door. He took a second to compose himself and wipe the sweat from his brow before he opened the door as stealthily as he could manage.
"Mister Arc, you're late," a sharp haughty tone rang out. That just wasn't fair. He hadn't even opened the door more than two inches yet! He gave up any pretense of stealth and opened the door the rest of the way. When he walked in, the other students were barely keeping from laughing at him; only the unspoken threat of punishment kept them from openly bawling at his appearance and situation. In addition to being red-faced and sweaty from his running, the entire back of Jaune's jacket and pants was soaked. He couldn't begrudge them finding humor in what he looked like. He did look awful.
"Take your seat Mister Arc. We'll talk about why you were late after class while you're doing detention." Miss Goodwitch was the only one besides him in the room to not find anything funny in the situation.
"Miss Goodwitch, I was-" He tried to defend himself but was cut off.
"Mister Arc." Her voice brooked no argument. Groaning slightly, Jaune trudged to the front of the class, the laughter and whispers growing in volume as he did so until it was almost like everybody was talking at once. He sat next to Ruby who looked sympathetic to his plight, looking at him with pitying eyes. She didn't say anything though as Miss Goodwitch continued with the days lesson in adapting to one's environment. She was probably too scared to bring attention to herself. He didn't blame her; the others were being particularly vicious today.
Suddenly, blinding pain blanketed his vision, turning the world almost entirely white as something collided with the back of his skull. He didn't know when he had decided to put his head down on the desk, but it had apparently been a good idea. He let the cool surface of the wooden desk try and soothe the splitting headache that had cropped up. He let his eyes swim until they rested on a small stapler. Made of metal with sharp corners, one of which was red, the deceptively small stapler lay at rest on the floor as if to deny any accusations. At least the whispering had stopped.
"Mister Winchester!" None wanted to face the owner of that voice that gave the impression of death warming a grave. One student in particular, with big meaty arms and brown cropped hair, sat frozen in place. His eyes seemed almost disbelieving as he looked at Jaune who didn't seem to be moving aside; he'd almost think he had killed him if he didn't see the movements of his back steadily rising and falling. Miss Goodwitch strode with slow deliberate steps until she was towering over Cardin, locking eyes with him the entire way.
"We will have words after class." Her emerald eyes swung over to where Jaune sat, one side of his head flush against the desk. She could see a small rivulet of blood poor down one side, but she could see a patch of hair colored slightly darker than the rest. He had been injured before he came to class. Her frown softened as she watched Jaune groan in pain for a moment. "Miss Rose, would you take Mister Arc to infirmary." It wasn't a suggestion or a request.
Ruby nodded fearfully before standing and looping her friend's arm over her shoulder. As she struggled to the door, Miss Goodwitch turned her attention back towards Cardin for a several long seconds before walking back to the front of the classroom to resume her lesson. Slowly, the two past through the door before slowly trudging down towards the infirmary.
"You alright there, Jaune? I gotta make sure you're not gonna pass out on me or anything like that, okay?" Ruby looked toward the first friend she had made at Beacon as they moved down the halls. Jaune hadn't said anything for a while and if he had a concussion, it could lead to some disastrous results. All in all, his behavior was scaring her, though she knew he would never mean to do so on purpose. Listening closely, she heard a few mumblings that he was alright. She also thought she heard something about triplets and mothers. Ruby liked Jaune, but if he was confessing to her, she feared for his safety. It wasn't because he might have a concussion, but because of what Yang would do to him if she found out about it.
Eventually, as they walked to the medical wing of the academy, Jaune recovered some, even managing to walk mostly under his own power. Jaune thanked her for her help and let her go back to class. The doctor on staff examined his head wound, but thankfully prescribed it as a minor blow and that it would fully heal by the end of the day. The doctor wrote Jaune a note, cleaned and bandaged the wound, and told him to go sleep it off in his dorm room. Jaune shed most of his clothes, some of which had dried off, before he slowly climbed under the covers.
As he slept, he dreamed of heroic deeds and fighting wars.
