Chapter Three

The sky above had already shifted to the color of a bruised orange, but either of my parents had yet to arrive and drag me home.

I let out a big, fat sigh as I waited by the park bench. Wherever those lovebirds were, they sure were taking their sweet time. The boredom was starting to creep in and be the noticeable jerk that it was. Fooling around the playground wasn't a fun way to pass the time when the place resembled a ghost town.

That's right. A ghost town. At this point in time, I'd be stupid to believe that I wasn't one of the few remaining people hanging around Maple Park. Jaune used to be in the running, but after his parents (and seven sisters) came to fetch him, he'd long since gone home with promises that he'll be back here next-next week ("Mom says we're usually here every other Saturday!"). The other kids and their families had moved on, some tossing my disheveled state odd looks when they passed by, and even the birds had flown back to their nests to rest for the day. Hey, bats, where you at?

Soon, this place was going to be bathed in darkness and moonlight. While my faunus-enhanced night vision meant that I'd be laughing at the dark instead of the other way around…

I was going to be completely left alone in it.

I grimaced slightly at the thought. Wow, putting it that way made it sound like I was melting like the Wicked Witch of the West when in actuality I was just fine and ready to tear Dorothy a new one.

Really, I was being stupid. Again. Was I not a fifteen-year-old deep inside? Not only would I be able to make it home without getting lost, though hopefully not maimed along the way by child predators, I would also not be reduced to tears just because I was never fetched by Mom or Dad like they promised and proceed to think of them as traitors. I loved and appreciated them and the things they did for me, but I was still independent enough not to rely on them too much.

…At least, I hoped I still was. My current track record was making things extra murky in that department. Especially when I felt my insides start to twist more and more uncomfortably as time continued passing by. Ah, anxiety, I never missed thee. Now I understood why kids my age cried like there's no tomorrow when their parents left them for even just five minutes.

Where the heck are they?

The twinkling stars were now starting to be more and more visible in the sky. It was a nice view, almost storybook. It wouldn't be long before the weird-looking moon finally showed up, too, all in its fragmented glory. Then the crickets would be playing their nighttime symphony, with all other nocturnal creatures joining in on the fun. That is, before they all got scattered away by the creatures that lurked in the darkest of the night with sharp fangs, red eyes, and even sharper claws…

I stopped that line of thinking before I could really scare myself. I then decided that I was definitely not going to stay here a moment longer. Nope, I wasn't about to let my heart rate increase past its current number. Shaking my head to myself, I slid off of the bench and mentally prepared myself for the dangerous trek that was the pathway towards home.

Of course, by some cosmic coincidence, Dad arrived just as I was about to make one confident step forward.

Domino Adel was practically the polar opposite of my mom. He was quieter and more serious whereas Mom was noisy and rambunctious. Mom stood out; Dad was content to just be there. Plus, between the two, people were more likely to go red in the face trying to make conversation with him than they would with my mom. Surprisingly, being a faunus had nothing to do with it. Or, well, his being in the Vale Police Department. Something about Dad just made him unapproachable to some level, y'know?

…Good thing he was a huge softie when it came to his only daughter!

He approached me with that soft smile on his face that made me know, exactly, how he made Mom fall in love with him head over heels. Darn it, heart, be still.

Well, okay, it also helped that Dad looked like a handsome prince with his lean build, dark hair and deep blue eyes that I luckily inherited, but still. He would've totally been a catch if the un-faunus portion of the population didn't notice his fox tail first. But then that just made me question why he hadn't been snagged by some faunus girl before Mom could.

Probably because Mom was a terror to anyone who set their eyes on her prize… stop. Stop. Getting into one of my mental tangents was not on tonight's agenda.

Acting like I hadn't just been about to head off on my own, I shook myself out of my stupor and gave him a wide grin. I yelled "Dad!" and ran over to him, then settled with hugging his leg because that was the only thing I could reach. Dad's smile grew several degrees warmer as he looked down at me, moving to give me the dreaded head pat… and paused.

Yikes.

The way he was giving me a once-over perfectly explained what caught his attention. Poorly-tamed hair, smudged clothes, scratched shoes, maybe even a purpling bruise from when I'd caught my fall—my hands still stung, by the way. Then again, it wasn't like I was hiding it—I wore it like a badge of honor. I might've been the playground bullies' favorite, but hah! I wasn't about to let them win.

He raised his eyebrows in question as I quickly detached myself and took several light steps back, clasping my hands behind me. I've seen how some people melted for the innocent girl look, so I'd figured the same would go for me. Knowing the reputation I've built up for myself, though… this was probably an exercise in depressing futility.

And it was. Dad's eyebrows merely raised several centimeters higher.

A raise of hands to those surprised. None? I thought so.

"Bullies got me," I said like I was describing the color of a flower. The way my lips then stretched into a mischievous smile, though, made it seem like said flower was suddenly used for sinister reasons. Which it kind of was. "But I scared them in the end. You should've seen how they ran! I was like, 'Boo!' and then they were all, 'Ahhhh!'"

A smile flickered for a brief moment on Dad's face as he imagined how that went. But then he must've gone back to the bullying portion of my grand retelling because his concerned frown came back in full force.

"They bullied you. Again."

Uh-oh. I knew what expression flashed across his face as I nodded in response. It was a strange mix of fury, pity, and guilt, always there whenever he caught me with skinned knees, bruises, or forcibly positive attitudes (not that I knew how he was even able to tell; parents had this weird sixth sense about their kids). I also caught the way his eyes glanced at my fox ears for a split second.

A different part of me wanted to reassure him that, hey, Dad, I was fine, no need to fuss over me, I don't get mad when I'm bullied, I get even with a matching hug and a wet kiss on the cheek. But since I was a kid and advanced vocabularies would freak just about anyone out… plus the fact that I hated how they seemed more affected by all the blind dislike directed towards me than I was…

A topic shift was in order.

"And this other kid—I saved him from them at first. But then, tadaaa! He saved me after," I said with matching hand gestures. "But he's gone home now. His name is Jaune. And he's my new friend!"

"A friend? Is that so?"

Random thought: sometimes, it was almost scary—too scary—how convincingly child-like I sounded whenever I talked. Was that because of the way my current brain functioned or was it because at some point during my new life I thought, screw it, I'll speak in whatever way felt natural? Maybe I was a lot better at this game of deception than I gave myself credit for.

Still, mission accomplished.

"Yup, and he didn't even look at my ears in that funny way the other kids did."

"And how did you feel about that? The kids treating you differently just because you had those ears?"

Okay, mission accomplished somewhat.

As I stared and blinked at him, the feeling of frustration bubbled briefly inside me—I failed to not think about how things usually were, whenever I wasn't playing with the neighborhood faunus kids and spending time in the more public places. Belittled, disregarded, scorned—

Damn it, Dad, I can't believe you dropped that question on your darling daughter just like that. But I quickly put a lid on it and stretched my lips into a wide, unaffected grin.

If my previous life taught me anything, letting things get under my skin was a one-way ticket to a rather miserable life. I might've gotten the message that the faunus were basically second class citizens—it didn't help that most crimes were perpetuated by them—and it was a daily struggle to make all the close-mindedness in the world go away, but I was a trooper and I'd sooner throw myself to the sharks than give up and let everyone wail on me because there was no point in fighting.

Only losers did that. Me? A loser? Hardly!

"Who cares what a bunch of dumb kids think?"

It was Dad's turn to stare at me. Actually, I felt just a liiiittle bit insulted that he almost didn't believe me. It was easy to read his thoughts: my little girl looked as if she escaped a wild jungle, and yet she was shrugging it all off like a duck in the rain? What impossibility was this?

A faunus named Mallow Adel, that's what.

"That's… good." Silence. Others wouldn't have known what to make of that, but thanks to the handy-dandy father-daughter connection I had with him, I had an idea. His eyes never really twinkled like that unless I was off on a tangent about my daily adventures or achievements.

In this case, he was proud of me for having stayed strong. He still looked worried and, dare I say it, tempted to tear my oppressors a new one, but he was proud of my resilience all the same.

I would be, too—it was the only thing I brought with me from my life before. Well, that, and my wonderful personality.

He reached out to me with an open hand, which I gladly took with mine. Then we started walking home.

"Your mother says she's sorry she couldn't get you, by the way; her mission today was taking longer to finish than expected."

"Oh." Figures. Ah well, if she managed to nab a couple of bad guys today, I'd say her day was well-spent. Her being back later tonight also meant she hadn't taken a mission that required going to the more dangerous parts of the continent—those took days. Mostly because there was always a Grimm infestation and a remote town involved. There was always the worry that one day she'd stop coming home for good, but my confidence in her increased by leaps and bounds when she just kept. Coming. Back.

…Albeit with a broken pair of signature sunglasses or two.

"But she'll be back just in time to tuck you into bed," he said in reassurance.

"And read stories to me again?"

He smiled. "And read stories to you again." He paused for a moment, considered something, and then said, "There's also something else she wants to tell you, but… I think I'll talk to her about it first."

I considered asking him about it in my usual, kiddie way, but the way he stared straight ahead with a thoughtful gaze meant that conversation time was over.


I awoke to find myself in a dark room, tucked underneath a thick blanket.

At first, I wondered if someone knocked me out with a sledgehammer and dragged my unconscious self into a bed. There had to be an explanation why I've gone from walking home with my dad to ending up here. Maybe there was even something sinister involved; how else would this room appear so much like the room I had?

It was uncanny. Shiver me timbers, it was also downright creepy. Because just like my room, the wall to my right was studded with chicken scratch drawings and glow-in-the-dark star stickers. On the left was a comfy-looking window nook where a person could view the streets below and go-people watching. Or if they felt irrationally angry at the world, throw the occasional paper ball and duck out of sight. There was also the night light illuminating the room and, not to forget, the blanket covering me. Thick and heavy and warm, white with equally familiar-looking snowflake patterns—

Waaaaait a minute.

This was my room.

The level of idiocy I could sink to never ceased to amaze. I groaned and muttered something incomprehensible, recalling the events prior to this discovery.

So, let's see… there was Dad and I coming home, walking down the street. We spent the moment in comfortable silence and then… oh! Right. And then there was him fixing me dinner later at home with me happily inhaling them like a gluttonous beast from the pits of hell. A couple hours later, Mom arrived—with a cracked pair of sunglasses, indeed—and showered me with so many apologies, I had to shut her up by turning away, reaching for a hard-bound book in the nearby shelf, waving it around, and simply saying, "Stories, lots of 'em." Her puzzled frown turned into a relieved smile after realizing I didn't hate her; she patted me on the head, tucked me into bed, and sometime after that, things blurred and here I suddenly was.

Huh, I must've fallen asleep.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, letting my vision adjust to the dark. It happened all too easily that I couldn't help but grin giddily. That never got old. People could say whatever they wanted about a faunus, but being one was pretty darn cool. How else could I make out the details in the room, like that poor drawing I did of Mom and Dad holding my hands and smiling?

Anyway, where was that digital clock… aha, found you!

The glowing cerulean numbers on the wall indicated that it was half past midnight.

…Oh. Ugh. Perfect. Now I was going to have to burn three hours tops just to fall asleep again. However shall I resolve this nasty dilem—wait, I heard something.

Fun fact: the first thing I learned upon discovering my extra pair of ears was filtering out the distant noise from the nearby ones. Since my human ears were only capable of hearing nearby sounds while my fox ears could hear someone, ahem, doing the do two blocks across the neighborhood, the mixed noise made for one nasty migraine. Especially if my hearing skills were left untrained. But, thanks to my daily ritual of opening the windows in my room, perching on the nook below it, shutting my eyes, and concentrating on differentiating one noise to another, my hearing was in tip-top shape.

In this case, though, I didn't really have to do a lot to zero in on a rather serious conversation Mom and Dad were having somewhere outside the room. In hindsight, I probably should have left them alone. But, alas, I was one curious fox and muffled sounds were muffled no matter the kind of hearing. I had to listen to this. It might be a matter of life and death.

I slipped out of bed and walked towards the door. Then, quietly, like a burglar sneaking about, I twisted the doorknob open and slightly pulled it back. The hinges didn't creak, thank goodness.

"…And I'm telling you, honey, she's a tough little girl. Sending her off to school isn't going to be a death sentence."

I couldn't help but perk up the moment I realized it was me they were talking about. In the living room. And very late at night.

"Cara, I'm not saying we need to keep Mallow sheltered forever. I'm just saying we should do this in a year or so, when she's more ready."

Ooh, and apparently, they were debating whether I already could handle the world of hell known as school.

"She's more than ready!" Mom said. I could easily imagine Dad hushing her right at that moment because her voice was too loud. "Sorry. But still. She definitely is. The brats might have tormented her more often than not and I'd do anything to put their—and their parents'—scrawny hides into place, but has she ever cried about the bullying? Ever?"

Dad paused to consider that. At least, that's what I got from the brief silence.

"Admittedly, never. In fact… I don't think I've ever seen her cry at all," Dad said. "Isn't that a bit strange?"

"Considering how the other kids cry just because their shoelaces were tied the right way? Yeah. Made worse or better by the fact that she occasionally seems to understand a lot more than we think." A shake of the head. "But I don't think that's to her detriment. If anything, that proves she can deal with school."

"And when the bullying takes a turn for the worse?"

I heard Mom sigh. "Domino, I love how you're doing all you can to prevent what happened to you from happening to her, too. But let's face it: she can handle whatever's thrown at her. Remember the last time some kid thought it was a good idea to stick a piece of gum on her hair?" She paused, probably waiting for Dad's answer. Since I didn't hear anything from the man, he must've nodded. "Exactly. She ignored the thing and went straight ahead to hunt for bugs—bugs she later stuffed inside the brat's backpack. Guess who was crying in the end? Hell, guess who'd figured out the kid was deathly afraid of them?"

Ah, my magnum opus. The victorious grin on my face wouldn't go away after remembering that particular moment.

I was four at the time. Young, impressionable… and already getting the sinking feeling that one way or another, bullies were always out to get me. During that fateful day, I was trying to make a magnificent fortress out of sand on the playground. Then this six-year-old beach ball decided it'd be funny to find out if my hair was as pink as his candy.

Long story short, I suddenly had a sticky problem—which wasn't really much of a problem as time went on. I hadn't even been intending to do anything initially. I'd thought, hey, I could just wait for Mom to remove the thing. She was the one who performed miracles in these kind of situations. And scared the holy bejeebus out of the tiny bastards. But after seeing this other kid—probably his sister—show Mr. Round and Proud the caterpillar she'd found and I watched him go ballistic, the temptation was far too great for my weak, weak self to resist.

He never even found out I was the perpetrator in the end. Mom had put two and two together after seeing the gum on my hair, but instead of being punished, I was taken out for some ice cream as a reward. How about them apples.

"I'll admit… she is something. She's a mini-you." I could easily imagine Dad smiling reluctantly and saying that. "But still… what if the kids became the least of our problems? There's still a lot of good people out there, but the bad…"

"Then we pull her out of school, deal with the fuckers who messed with our little girl, and personally teach her everything she needs to know until she's old enough for combat school. Simple," Mom said. "Oh, honey, don't look at me like that—you've seen how on-board she is about the idea of being a Huntress. I'm running out of storybooks to read to her as it is." I couldn't help but let out an awkward chuckle at that. "Besides, after she learns a trick or two, she can go kick her bullies' asses and I'll the proud mother wiping a tear away from her eye."

Ladies and gentlemen, Caramel Adel.

"I—" There was no mistaking the shock in my Dad's voice. Then, after several seconds of letting it sink in, he chuckled. "I swear, your side of the family is… really colorful. Maybe even intense."

"Ha. What can I say? The Schnees up north might be all polished and proper, but us Adels down south are made of sterner stuff. And we dress better." Mom's voice was smug. However, the next thing she said didn't sound so smug. "At least… I think so. When you're just someone adopted into the family, you've got a hell lot of standards to live up to."

There was nothing but thoughtful silence after that. It went on for so long, I considered shutting the door then and leaving them to their business. I mean, I wouldn't want to be mentally scarred for life if my parents ended up taking a turn for the intimate and I was witness to it. Having known already about the birds and the bees after browsing one too many websites in my past life didn't make the whole idea any less nauseating. I could crack all the immature jokes I wanted when it came to that, but I'll stick to hugging and kissing, thanks.

But then Dad spoke. I barely heard it—his voice was quieter this time.

"Is he still not talking to you? Your brother?"

It took Mom a few seconds before she sighed and spoke. "Not a single word."

"Still sour about that argument you two had?"

"That's putting it kindly. Love the guy to bits, but I have a hard time supporting his decisions lately," Mom said. I wished I could learn more, but the woman left it at that. "Anyway, we better get to bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

There were only so many ways I could imagine how Dad responded to that, one of them being unsure whether to pursue the topic or abandon it entirely. Turns out, it was the latter.

"Of course."

Conversation time seemed to be over, regardless. Uh-oh. They rose from wherever they'd been sitting, probably the sofa, and the sound of their footsteps grew louder and louder as they made their way towards the room across mine. I shut the door with a quiet enough click before they could catch me awake. Or worse. I was not looking to find out what "worse" was. Not today, anyway.

Of course, by the time I settled back into my bed, my mind refused to stop racing. It had gotten so bad I wondered if I should join the Remnant version of a grand prix. Did Remnant even have racecars?

…Wait, why was I even questioning this when airships were cooler than racecars? I was pretty sure I could even hear the hum of engines somewhere in the sky—

Ahem. Anyway. School. It wouldn't be unexpected that I'd go back to attending it and gaining a rep for myself, what with the whole second life stuff and all, but I guess I'd been enjoying my childhood phase so hard I forgot it was a thing. It didn't help that Mom or Dad had been the ones to teach me how to transform my scribbles into actual letters and had helped me transition from picture books to books with text as large as pictures… not that I had a difficult time with those.

Reading did come easy, and writing—you know what, I take back what I said. Learning to write again with a clumsy hand was pain and suffering like no other. My letter A still looked like a shark ready to bite off someone's foot.

So. Yup. I was going to start school. I'll admit, the thought was enough to send me shivers of the oh-god-what-should-I-expect variety. I felt like I was about to traverse into unfamiliar territory, or if you looked at it in a very weird angle, a field full of land mines.

The playground was one thing. But school? I barely remembered how I did it in my past life.

Would the teachers actually do their jobs even if a couple of their students happened to be a faunus? Would I survive being in school and relearning what I no doubt already knew? What if the boringness of it all could sent me into a coma within a coma? Heck, what if I brought with me the wrong pencil? No, Mallow, you were supposed to bring a number two pencil, not a number one—

Yeah, no. Stop. Just stop before you get an aneurysm, girl.

I let out a sigh and turned to my side, feeling my blanket move with me. I was being ridiculous. It was just school. Granted, it was probably a kindergarten or some kind of primary school depending on how the Remnant educational system worked, but I knew how it ran things… in theory… and I should be alright. I attend, I adapt, and I raise hell. Bulldoze through the academics! Wreck face! Finish the whole thing ready for combat school because my ambition-less but glory-seeking self didn't really know what other options to take. This was not going to be a challenge.

In fact, this was going to be fun.

I had to remember that at my very core, I was still Hope Summers. And while Hope Summers kicked the bucket before she could even finish high school, she still managed to get through the school levels before that. In style. And while enduring detentions and constant verbal abuse that would make a social worker go white in terror.

No pressure! I could fool around this time. I'll be passing whatever test they threw at me, after all. Sure, I wasn't the second coming of Albert Einstein by any means, but I wasn't a dumbass either.

Hah, wouldn't that be a sight to see, the faces of all the teachers who thought I was a handful and would never get anywhere, only to end up with the stunning realization that I got top marks for every subject. It was every prankster's fantasy. In fact… I…

I eventually just fell asleep, all anxious thoughts replaced by confident ones.

I was going to be fine.


I was going to not be fine.

It had been four months since my parents had The Talk with me regarding school. Four months since I had to make the equivalent of a blood pact to behave and not grab attention, and four months since I resigned myself to my fate… while constantly hearing how the two worrywarts made muttered promises of eternal retribution the moment things went south. Parents.

During the first several weeks, things were okay. I got enrolled in this fancy private school in the nicer part of town. I wasn't given any special—or not so special—treatment there for being a faunus, mostly because it was a school that catered to both types of children, and I did pretty great in my studies. The nice, purple star of excellence stamped on my hand was a good source of pride... even if it wasn't exactly gotten legitimately.

Not with the lessons being something I've learned a lifetime ago, like basic vocabulary and simple math lessons that I already knew—

Wait, since when did I, the brat who once got through freshman year through sneaky ways, consider cheating wrong?

Either my parents were rubbing off on me hard, or I wasn't just different in body, but also in personality due to the more complicated portions of anatomy that I couldn't remember at the moment. You know what? This was one line of thinking worth abandoning. Never mind.

…Anyway, it was just like I said. Everything at first was practically like a storybook, with all the vibrant colors and laughter and everything that would make the most dastardly of villains puke. That would make me puke.

But now, nope. Not so much.

Not with that hag of a teacher that so happened to be last week's addition to the school faculty.

"What did you just say?" Enter Ms. Frost, said teacher who was currently sending me a glare so cold, volcanos all over the world would have simultaneously frozen over.

I didn't really know much about her other than what I've eavesdropped from the other adults so far: that she was having troubles with something, that a relative of hers hired her out of pity, and that a person could easily make a pun out of her last name thanks to her icy demeanor. That last one was from a teacher who tended to joke a lot. Long story.

What I did know was the fact that school would have been a million times better without her. The kids all around me could barely look at her right now. Heck, my faunus brethren even looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation—if they didn't end up wetting themselves first.

Still, because I wasn't a volcano… or a pansy… I simply stared back from my side of the oval table with a faux look of innocence on my face. Nothing pissed a person more than doing the opposite of what they expected to happen. Even if said person doing the pissing off was feeling scared and ballsy at the same time. My heart could burst out of my chest at any point in time now.

"Well?" she asked again, louder this time.

Then again, if I hadn't spoken out of turn, maybe I wouldn't have been in this predicament. Alas, whereas the mind was strong, the body was weak. I couldn't resist butting in when the lady kept spouting side-comments about how the faunus half of the class shouldn't be "hindering their peers."

Ravings of a madwoman, let me tell you. I had to take one for the team; no one was speaking up and just taking everything. That simply wouldn't do.

It wasn't our fault the others (read: human kids and faunus kids, whom the teacher conveniently didn't acknowledge) weren't following the lesson well. If the kind teacher could go through said more thoroughly, then everyone would be learning at the same pace, more or less.

…Okay, thinking back on earlier, I might have also implied that the teacher's teaching method was bad. And then bluntly said so. Of course she wouldn't have taken it well.

But come on, it was the truth! Weren't kids usually brutally honest? She didn't answer our questions and flitted from one tangent to another. The words she wrote on the board was barely legible that you might as well have given a chimpanzee the whiteboard pen and none would notice the difference. Some other kid would have pointed that out sooner or later!

"She's talking to you," one of the kids nearby then whispered, mistaking my silence for nerves. Little did they know…

Ah well. I was already knee-deep in crap. Might as well commit to it like the idiot that I was. Never let it go unsaid that Mallow Adel did not see things through. Although, in hindsight, this kind of approach ultimately led to Hope's death. Stupid pie.

"You're teaching too fast. The other kids couldn't follow the lesson," I repeated. "Aren't teachers supposed to do the opposite?"

Some of my other classmates blinked at the question before they found themselves nodding and mumbling their agreement. It seemed to make more sense to them, the longer they thought about it. For the teacher though, not so much. If the woman's nostrils flared even more, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole nose suddenly detached from her face and ran off.

She looked just about ready to strangle me with the way she was practically squeezing the life out of the pen she held. In fact, she probably would have already if it didn't mean going to prison for assaulting a kid.

"And what makes you think you'd know better?" Each of her words sounded more clipped than the previous one.

Wow, rude.

…Then again, so was I. Touche.

"My mom used to teach me," I said, pushing on like a trooper. Or an even bigger idiot. "She doesn't do it like you do."

"Did she also teach you to talk back to your betters?"

This time, I looked at Ms. Frost straight in the eye. I didn't fight off the challenging—and sly—smile that crept into my face. "Yup, she did."

Cross my heart, Caramel Adel really did. When in my previous life my aunt and uncle shut me down before I could even think of a word to say, in this current one, Mom actually encouraged me to speak up if I noticed that something or someone was wrong. Or in need of a reality check. "Because if you just keep quiet all the time, sweetie," she'd said once, "then you'll never learn to stand up for yourself when the situation demands it."

(She also might have looked peculiar after that, like she was recalling a past memory, but what she said still made sense.)

The teacher looked aghast at my continued impudence and devil-may-care attitude and almost sputtered right then and there. Then she recovered, scowled, and narrowed her eyes.

"So you say." The woman's eyes finally broke contact with mine as they swept over the entire class, nodding to herself seconds later.

A decision was made.

"Alright, class, take out your pencils and notebooks. Thanks to your special classmate Mallow, we're having a quiz on numbers. Counting, adding, and subtracting. Right now."

At first, nobody moved. They thought Ms. Frost wasn't serious. We had yet to go into math equations, after all. Maybe she just forgot we weren't the other students she was teaching and was, in conclusion, being silly. If it happened to us kids, it could also happen to the adults, right?

But then, when it finally sunk in that she was, especially when she stared at all of us expectantly and even raised her eyebrows at us, something stirred in the class and the complaints started coming. Surprise quizzes and maths were the kind of fatal combo that traumatized the unprepared kid. And all of them were unprepared.

Except for moi, for obvious reasons.

"Well, kids," she started saying. Her smug way of regarding me dented my smug way of regarding the sudden turn of events. "Don't take it out on me. Take it out on your kind classmate who didn't know how to show respect."

It suddenly occurred to me what direction she was heading into. And I couldn't help but regard her incredulously.

Really? That's the game she wanted to play? All because I offered her some teaching tips?

Still, I didn't have to meet anyone's eyes to know that the spotlight now shone nice and bright on me. In fact, the rather oppressive atmosphere I now felt surrounding me was telling enough about what everyone thought of Mallow Adel now.

Kids.

I inwardly sighed in resignation and pulled out my own pencil and notebook, the latter whose covers depicted the picture of a heroine from a cartoon show. Or was it from one of those tournament contestants on TV? Gah, that was another thing I had to get used to on Remnant: new pop culture stuff and the works.

But then said pencil and notebook was suddenly taken away from me. I looked up and saw the teacher holding them. She wagged a finger at me.

"You're not allowed to take the quiz," she said. "I'm sure you're smart enough to understand why."

And it was during that very moment I decided the womn was a witch. With a B. But I wasn't about to let her win. If she wanted mind games, she'll definitely be getting them. I met her eyes again and showed exactly how unbothered I was about failing a silly surprise quiz.

"That's okay." And because I absolutely couldn't resist, "I'll just ace the others."

She got contrary to what she was hoping; the way her eyes narrowed again made me inwardly pump a fist in victory. See? That worked. It was always the little things that mattered.

"I'll also be speaking to your mother when she fetches you," she told me with a sense of finality and turned away.

For a few seconds, as the teacher initiated her traumatizing quiz with the rest of the class, I sat there in total silence and considered slumping onto the table to nap through the entire thing.

But then one of my classmates threw a paper ball at me.

And another.

And another.


"I cannot believe I actually thought that school would be better than the others!" Mom ranted, several hours later.

She'd put up a good fight when my teacher cornered her for a lengthy talk about my earlier transgression, even going so far as to drag in the principal when Ms. High and Mighty couldn't crack through Caramel Adel's formidable defenses. But in the end, despite defending me to the best of her ability ("She's only pointing out what she found wrong! You don't punish children when they're just stating their opinions.") and deflecting every word the teacher threw at her and returning them with cutting ripostes, the teacher won through some miracle or other.

I still didn't know how it ended up that way—I was eavesdropping at the time.

...What? I shouldn't have done that? Well, in my defense, they didn't close the door. If they didn't want eavesdroppers, they should've done so.

Anyway. Point was, the verdict after that was that I either "behave" around said teacher or, in their words, find a different school that I'd fit in better. Which was hilarious, especially when I've seen the other kids throw temper tantrums and break things and got nothing but a reprimand before they were left alone to their own devices. With a juice box. And cookies.

Maybe it was just my bad luck playing out. Or maybe it was just because people didn't bother with the faunus when they kept their heads down. Either way, I got the short end of the stick again, the kids were sure to hate me for getting them into trouble, and now Mom decided to take me out for ice cream in downtown Vale. Apparently, that was how she dealt with stress, both hers and mine.

The shop owner actually knew her by face and name now. He didn't even bother asking what the woman was going to get (strawberry and chocolate, the wombo combo) and simply took Mom's card-like objects that turned out to be Lien, Remnant's currency.

"I've had to go through at least a dozen brochures just to find that school," she continued her rant as I shoved spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Turns out, the ice cream flavors here were just as great as the ones on Earth... though maybe a lot softer in texture. "What were they thinking, hiring a teacher that didn't put her job first before her prejudices? Stupid. Absolutely stupid. And I have to be this premier huntress that protects the likes of them? Domino's never going to let me live this down. Argh!"

She slammed a fist onto the table and ignored the odd looks the other people enjoying their own dessert sent her way.

"I'm sorry," I decided to say after making sure my own bowl of ice cream wasn't in danger of flying off the table. Mom's bowl had actually jumped a couple centimeters into the air earlier. "I guess I shouldn't have talked at all."

Mom blinked, stared at me, and shook her head. She patted my hand. "No, sweetie, what you did was fine. Don't ever hesitate to speak up when necessary. Remember, we're Adels: we don't stay in the sidelines."

Though admittedly, I wasn't really one to just stay idle by default. Why did you think I got into trouble with people more often than not?

I nodded all the same.

"Okay." And then, as a last thought, I said, "Are you gonna pull me out of that school?"

"Hmm," she drawled out. "That would depend. Do you want to be?"

I looked down on my half-finished ice cream and considered the thought.

"Do combat schools have tests like the one I've been having?"

"They do, sweetie, but it's mostly to measure what you know. They still have these remedial classes for students who need some catching up academically, but the catch is that they'll graduate later than the other kids who don't," Mom explained.

Well, I sure as heck wasn't about to get delayed from all the swash-buckling.

"Okay, then I'll stay. I'm not about to let a stupid teacher win."

Mom regarded me incredulously before shaking her head and chuckling. Whether it was because I was too stubborn to quit or too amusing for having called that teacher stupid, I didn't know.

"Alright, then."

I gave Mom an odd look before shrugging and breaking eye contact. We ate our ice cream in silence then. But several minutes later, like a switch being flipped, she grew serious. "So… you're really bent on taking the path of a Huntress, then?"

What a question.

But then, it wasn't like I knew any other, better alternatives.

The things I've thought of doing with my life back when I was Hope suddenly seemed dull in comparison. Manning cash registers? Serving food? Becoming some kind of "corporate shill," whatever the adults really meant whenever they said that? They sounded too normal under present circumstances.

Here was an opportunity to do things better this time around. I might not find out in my entire lifetime as to why I got reincarnated, but I'd be utterly demented to let things move forward the same way. Plus, I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to at least learn how to defend myself if it turned out I wasn't Huntress material. The memory of the play-fighting I saw from several years ago was still vivid in my mind—I could be doing all those cool stuff, myself, if I kept heading towards that path!

…The Grimm might be a problem though. But since I've still yet to see one in the flesh, they felt a bit more along the likes of the boogeyman hiding in the closet. Or more accurately, like horror stories that I had a weird fascination on.

"Yup."

"...I see."

I blinked at her. For a moment, Mom seemed like she was done with the conversation, having looked away and glancing at the streets outside the window. But then she looked back to me, exhaled, and smiled in a strange, tired way.

"It's not going to be a safe career, kiddo. I think you should realize that now, rather than later," Mom said, and after deciding I was indeed paying her my full attention, continued, "I won't sugarcoat it for you. You will be in danger, you might lose people you love, and you will feel like backing out when the going gets tough. The weapons and the fighting is one hell of a thrill, but it's going to come at the cost of trying to stay alive each and every day.

But despite the uncomfortable way my intestines twisted themselves (or at least, it felt that way), I still found it hard to wrap my head around the concept.

It was like, I knew that ever since Mom started reading those stories to me (how did people breeze through those violent undertones?) and since I caught glimpses of news footage about the next Huntsman to be found dead somewhere nearby, but I just couldn't make myself feel the danger and the horror because so far, life's been safe within the walls of the country-sized city.

"Again, I'm not really sure if you got the message loud and clear. But it's best for you to know now and toy around with the idea instead of stumbling blindly when that time comes."

To be fair, though, she was still right; I'd be stupid to think her wrong. She was the one with more life experience. If anything, her words were sage advice and I should be following them.

On the other hand, what was life without any risks? I've played the dull game in my previous life—I ended up dying anyway. Unless I find the fountain of youth or something, I was still going to die again someday, too. Might as well spend my second lifetime doing something exciting instead of going through the same thing and wondering how things would be if they went differently… and then dying from something as stupid as food poisoning. I'd rather die a fighter this time.

Besides…

Wouldn't it be an interesting turn of events to change from being the person bullied to the person people would be depending their survival on? Total zero to hero moment right there. Man, the look on their faces would be priceless!

"I can handle it," I insisted.

"You're sure."

The smarter way would've been to consider this decision some more, probably, but what the heck, the idea sounded so good right now that I just couldn't.

"Mmhm!" I nodded eagerly. I waved my spoon around as I talked some more. "Huntsmen and Huntresses are heroes, aren't they? If I become that hero, then the bullies will stop bullying me."

Okay, that might have sounded much too naive than I'd thought. In reality, people would still find ways to make trouble for other people, if my high school life was of any indication. I know I did to people who deserved it.

But, whether I was pretending to be a kid or not, I wasn't about to let cynicism stay and fester in my brain. Who knows, if I said what I've said often enough, it might end up becoming true. I was willing to take that kind of risk.

Mom reached over to me and patted my head long enough before I tried melting into my seat just to avoid a round two. The woman snickered.

"Fine, then, we'll see if you won't change your mind in the future. Four or five years, give or take. You're the boss," Mom said. She pushed her now-empty bowl of ice cream away from her. "Now, then… come on, if you finish your ice cream fast enough, we might have some time left to buy you some new clothes in the mall. I've seen a bow that might look cute on you."

Oh, the sing-song way she put it made me narrow my eyes at her in suspicion. The last time she put a ribbon on me—other than that one I grudgingly admitted looked great—she tried covering my ears with it because she was curious how it'd look. All it did was muffle the louder sounds I was used to hearing. It was also like wearing handcuffs, only worse.

Never again.

Mom clicked her tongue. "A frown looks terrible on you, darling."

We went shopping anyway. And predictably, she managed to manipulate me into agreeing that the ribbon she saw did make me look like someone you'd want to hand a lollipop to. The incident during school earlier was forgotten, and the two of us arrived home in a much better mood.

Sure, just because the day ended in a better note didn't mean that the rest of my school life was going to be just as great. But c'est la vie. All I had to do was keep my eye on the prize (combat school), weather the storm… and maybe see if I could do something about that teacher since I was not about to have her make my life a living hell without returning the generous gesture. Undetected, of course, considering the ultimatum they gave me.

I was up to the challenge. Before I knew it, those four or five years were going to be over.

Bring it on.


A/N: Well, that wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped it would be. Couldn't work in a scene that I'd thought of adding. That will probably for next chapter, and then... we'll see. All I hope is that I've written this decently enough to set up something I wanted to happen next.

Yeah, I'm not going to rush through her childhood phase. But I'm hoping not to drag it out, either! More like, I'll focus on the more important parts, then do time skips when I finally could. Let that serve as a warning, but I'll try my best not to leave anyone jarred from the time skips. 3

Feel free to review, follow, or add this story as a favorite! It's hard to finish a chapter when I'm juggling gaming and work, but each one is definitely a labor of love and I hope not to disappoint the ones who happen to like this story despite the cringey genre (because let's face it, to some people, it is cringey).