Greetings and salutations! Welcome to the completely, totally, one-hundred percent on-time chapter of Fox and the Cub! ... I made it longer to apologize.
For those who are curious, the preparations for the move are going smoothly enough. Just threw out a lot of my junk as I slim down my possessions for the cross-country treck. For those who do not follow my pa+reon, OFNT is being moved to next Sunday to give me time to catch up and prepare for my move.
This is a fun little chapter that goes to show you that timing and circumstance make up a lot of how we meet new people. Have two people meet one way and they might end up mortal enemies, but with a bit of luck and a different circumstance? Possibly something completely different. I dedicate the first half of this chapter to engine.
The financer of this project has storyboarded it with me and we are all set to move forward. Pairings are slotted and we've got the gist of things figured out. Reading the first few chapters of this story doesn't make me want to delete my fanfiction account like reading OFNT. Hopefully, the polishing of my writing skill will shine through in this fic and make it seem a little less slipshod.
With that being said, let's get to it!
Chapter 4
New Chapters
"Bleurgh…" Jaune couldn't stop himself from retching. He was a man that firmly believed that if humankind was destined to fly they would have been born with wings. If you looked at things with that frame of mind, it was everyone else who was weird for being okay with giant metal contraptions ferrying them through the sky. His flying sickness was perfectly normal!
That was the explanation Jaune was going to go with if anyone asked him about it. Right now he was spending most of his effort to contain his body's urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the deck. The last thing he wanted to be known for was vomiting on the flight over to Beacon. That was exactly the kind of reputation he didn't need, thank you very much!
The layover between flights had been as short as Jaune planned it to be. The extra lien he'd been forced to spend in Muspel really set him back, so it was nothing short of a blessing when things went his way. It wasn't the easiest gift from god to appreciate at the moment, as the minuscule delay between the two flights meant that he'd moved from one flying contraption to the next with little time to let his stomach settle. He'd wanted to train on his way to Beacon, but it seemed that was out of the cards.
Jaune took the time on the previous flight to research what little the public was allowed to know about aura. That's what he assumed, at least. All he could find on the four-hour flight was that aura was a manifestation of the soul that provided its owner a barrier from damage, above average regenerative abilities, strength, and possibly a semblance.
That was an impressive list of perks that only furthered Jaune's desire to get some of the stuff for himself. What he hadn't been able to find was a way to get his own aura. Not a single source mentioned a method by which you could obtain it, except one. After hours of searching, he read on a message board that people in extreme circumstances could unlock their aura through force of will. It was rare — a body's final grasp at life when the soul was strong enough to will it to do so.
Throwing himself into certain death for the chance to get lucky and get some aura failed to enthuse the young man. Jaune didn't even know if the board was telling the truth or not. If he assumed it was, there existed a silver lining to his current cloud, not that it would be much of one. If getting it in combat was rare, that meant there was most likely a simpler — and much to Jaune's appreciation — safer way. He was leaning towards the idea that huntsmen gave each other aura. After that, maybe the body learned how to create the substance itself?
There were a hundred other things it could be too. Though it was an important quandary, it probably wasn't worth spending too much time thinking about it. The best idea he had was to ask somebody about it. He was afraid — afraid that they might view him as less of a huntsman for not having his aura. There was also the small detail that he clearly wasn't much of a huntsman besides that, but hey, he was working on it!
He did what he could to gather the contents of his stomach and confine them to where they belonged. The flight had given them ideas of an upward escape and did not lend itself well to Jaune's desire to talk to someone. He knew he couldn't delay his quest for aura any longer. Now that he was finally on a giant aircraft filled with huntsmen and huntresses there were no more excuses. Come on! Just pick someone, you big baby! Jaune tried to psych himself up.
As he wandered looking for someone, Jaune was reminded the airship itself was way too fancy for the likes of him. The simple act of looking for someone to talk to was enough to make his head spin — airsickness aside. The whole thing was unbelievably vast. He'd guessed somewhere around a hundred students were on this airship alone. He'd been to towns that could host fewer people, less comfortably too. If this was the kind of ride huntsmen got regularly, there was nothing else to say except that they were loaded. The metal railing polished to a sparkling sheen, the sleek futuristic aesthetics, everything he looked at broadcasted a sense of fiscal superiority over a town like his.
Speaking of fiscal superiority, Jaune found someone who fit the bill. A girl with the most beautiful white hair in a dress to match. That single dress probably cost more than his entire wardrobe! If someone was to describe her as something other than breathtaking upon first seeing her, he would have referred that person to their optometrist. Devastatingly good looks aside, she also had the air of somebody who knew what she was doing. She walked like someone who had places to be and things to do once she got there. It gave her an air of competence and knowledge, making her an ideal candidate for his questioning.
Again, that was his story and he was sticking to it.
Making his way to her involved a bit of maneuvering as he tried to avoid bumping into any people on his way while also closing the distance between the two of them. She had a fast gait, but her short stature meant those fast-moving legs were still carrying her at a pace Jaune could keep up with. Social skills weren't exactly Jaune's forte, and phrasing it like that was being generous to a fault. He wasn't sure if he should tap her on the shoulder, call out to her, or try and get her attention with a wave or some such.
His body and brain collaborated towards a solution to the problem. The solution reached was the belief that said sociality needed to be compensated for. Thus, all three were done simultaneously; waving with his left hand, tapping her on the shoulder with his right, and speaking with his mouth. He felt the need to praise himself for the words successfully coming from his mouth, if only because that was the one thing that actually went right.
"Hi," Jaune's opener was predictably underwhelming. The combination of the wave in her peripheral, the touch on her shoulder, and the greeting was enough to get the attention of the white-haired girl. Apparently, she was not one to do things slowly, spinning on her feet — an act made all the more impressive by the length of the heels she was wearing.
"Can I help you?" Jaune learned something interesting when she said those words. He'd heard that exact greeting a hundred times over from the local grocer back in Ansel. Whenever Thad welcomed Jaune's family into his store he'd give them a beaming smile and a warm welcome with those words. He'd genuinely wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help.
When this girl said it the words felt like an accusation. It felt like she was saying "How can I help you get out of my face faster?". It wasn't the comforting greeting he was used to at all! How could the same words sound that different?!
Jaune Arc was not, nor ever had been an iron rock of confidence. His dad had always told him that all a man needed was confidence to accomplish his goals, but it never helped. Where the heck did one get confidence? Was there a confidence factory that produced bulk goods? Did that factory sell to a retailer he could then purchase said confidence from? No? Then how was he supposed to get it?!
The result was Jaune losing any semblance of the script he'd readied for the conversation. That meant he regressed to his normal nature — apologetic and humble. "I'm really sorry for bothering you. I just had a question I needed to ask a huntress about a-and you looked like somebody who might know the answer."
What he ended up saying in a panic turned out to be more effective than sticking to his plan ever would've been. There were few couplings as natural as an egoist and one who would stroke it. Jaune might have burned his luck for the next five years stumbling into the right path like he did. That was a problem he'd have to deal with in the future. For now, Jaune reaped his accidental rewards.
"A question for a huntress…?" The girl squared her body to his own as she focused her attention on him. "Well, I doubt you could find someone better suited for your query. Go, ask."
Jaune blinked like a deer caught in the headlights. He'd been in a high-pressure situation and blurted out the words that came to mind. He wasn't going off a script, he didn't have a follow-up prepared! If it worked once… "I'm going to be studying at Beacon Academy and-"
"This is the transport to Beacon Academy." The girl reminded him pointedly. Jaune realized his luck being spent has transitioned from probable to definite. That meant he was going to need to stop relying on getting lucky and start being smart.
He wasn't good at smart.
"I know that… I… I brought it up because…" Jaune stumbled over his words, his brain doing its best impression of a scroll failing at dealing with a stack overflow.
"I can appreciate why you'd wish to ask me a question pertaining to huntsmanship, however, I am very busy with-"
Jaune would never know what she was supposedly busy with. The few days he trained under Naruto hadn't made him strong. It hadn't been the story of the hapless young hero meeting the grizzled veteran and being molded into the man who would save the world. Neither had it been the story of the young pupil studying under the wizened mentor to become a great sage of unparalleled wisdom. Jaune wasn't smarter or stronger than when he started his journey. There was only one thing about him that was any different.
He refused to give up.
"I'm sorry," Jaune bowed his head in honest shame and apology. "I'm embarrassed by the truth and was hesitant to say it. My father never believed I would become a huntsman. I didn't know about aura for a large portion of my life. The man that prepared me to be a huntsman said I should seek someone out on my way to Beacon that could help teach me how to obtain aura of my own. All I want to know is how to get aura. If you can tell me that I'd be grateful."
Jaune didn't lift his head, keeping it bowed as he waited for a response. He didn't keep his head low out of respect, but fear. He was afraid how she would react to hearing he didn't have an aura. Would she think he wasn't a real huntsman? If she didn't, she was right. He was a normal guy with a collapsible shield and a sword. That didn't mean that was all he could be. All Jaune needed was a chance.
"You were admitted to Beacon Academy without having your aura unlocked?" She questioned him dubiously. There was a hint of something in her voice Jaune couldn't recognize.
"Yes." He had to forcibly level the pitch of his voice. Every fiber of his body was ready for the girl to tear into him.
"That's rather impressive. The accolades one would need to accrue to enter Beacon auraless… you must have been the top of your class. Where did you study?"
Must… not… blink… Jaune forcibly nixed the impulse of his eyes to give their best interpretation of a camera shutter. He, Jaune Arc, top of his class? Ha! He'd look this impossibly gorgeous girl in the eyes like a normal person and keep talking like he knew what he was talking about. Both of which already sounded like impossible tasks alone. Lucky him.
"I didn't go to a training school," Jaune admitted. He'd wanted to go to Signal Academy to prepare for Beacon. It didn't pan out. "All of my training was done on the road with my mentor." Jaune didn't feel great about perpetuating her misunderstanding even if he wasn't lying. Then again, the alternative was her knowing he'd trained less than a week in his life. If those were his options he would take door number two, please!
"To be brought into the folds of huntsmanship through worldly travels alone... Does that mean you're accustomed to fighting grimm absent of the power of aura?"
These not-lies had been serving him well so far and Jaune felt no need to stop now. "Yes, although I doubt I've fought as many as you. Fighting them without aura is-"
"Incredible," She finishes for him. He was going to use the word terrifying or maybe even insane. "I'm delighted to see Beacon has selected some real talent to participate in my year. The state of many of the huntsmen and huntresses on this vessel was beginning to make me worry. I could swear I even saw a child here."
"Right…" Jaune went with the flow and agreed with her, earning him further recognition from the girl. Every time there had been a fork in this conversation where things could either go fantastically or terribly they had taken a turn down Positive Road.
I swear I've never been this lucky in my life. Jaune sought asylum from karma as it must have been preparing to kick him in the balls. What the crap was going on? Was he being paid up front for his backlog of bad luck? Was there a god watching over him? Did he come in contact with Remnant's font of eternal luck without realizing it?
"I wasn't particularly lying when I said I was busy. There is a potential teammate I intend to corner- talk to on the way to Beacon. You wished to know how to obtain aura?"
Jaune nodded his head, taking the opportunity for silent communication when it was presented to avoid tempting fate any further. It was a sufficient cue for the girl to launch into her explanation. "Aura is known as the manifestation of one's soul. As you know, it allows us to shield ourselves from damage, provides greatly increased stamina, accelerates healing if you are ever injured, and more."
I knew exactly one of those things before looking it up today. Jaune stayed silent.
"Because aura is your soul, everyone has the potential to use it inside of them. We obtain aura's energy through a process known as unlocking. In most cases, a parent or teacher will unlock the aura of their child or student once their course has been set towards becoming a huntsman or huntress. There's the obvious reasons such as it being both safer and more efficient to train with aura than without. What's even more important for some is the ability to unlock your semblance."
She didn't stop to explain what a semblance was. Jaune thanked the stars for the research he'd done that morning. "To answer your question, there are two ways to unlock your aura. As I mentioned previously, somebody can unlock it for you if they themself have unlocked their aura. This is far and away the most standard way for a huntsman to unlock their aura."
"But there's another way to do it?" Jaune asked hopefully. He didn't have anybody to unlock his aura. He could have asked a teacher to do it for him, but to do so would make the school transcripts he'd submitted to them suspect.
"In rare cases, there have been people who unlocked their aura in life or death situations. Researchers have hypothesized it to be a soul's last-ditch effort to save the body. They suspect it only happens when someone's will is so resolute in its refusal of death that it forces the aura to activate, though they haven't yet figured out how."
So that message board was right. Jaune remembered what had been posted — the only information he'd been able to find about how to get aura. I knew I should have trusted that anonymous person on the internet!
With one realization came another. He couldn't ask the teachers to unlock his aura because of his fake transcripts. Naruto wasn't exactly his mentor, but he couldn't ask him either. His pseudo-mentor had said he didn't know how to do that. He couldn't ask a teacher, he couldn't ask his mentor, he definitely couldn't ask his father, which left only two doors available; face death and hope his soul wanted to live, or quit. Which meant there was only one real option.
He obviously had to quit.
He'd been inches away from having his throat become the centerpiece to two jagged rows of serrated beowolf teeth! He knew huntsmen risked their lives, he wasn't that much of an idiot. The other side of that coin was how could he expect to unlock his aura by doing something he'd already done! Moving past the reality that his death was nearly certain if he fought the grimm as he presently was, there was no way he could risk his life on something that made going to the casino and betting it all on double zero! It's possible the casino would give him better odds!
"Being a huntsman is about doing. You don't get that." His father's words echoed in his mind.
Yeah, okay Dad, sure, but I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an exception! Jaune defended himself from the ever-looming specter of his own uncertainty. A huntsman wouldn't rush into death unless it was to save those he'd pledged to protect. This wasn't anything like that!
Does it? Part of his mind coaxed him. You've pledged to protect those in need by promising to become a huntsman. If you turn back now there's a strong chance you'll live a happy and healthy life accompanied by the total certainty you'll never protect a soul from the grimm. You'll never be a hero. You'll never accomplish your dream.
That was the choice he had. Go out and risk his life on something that probably had a less than two percent chance of panning out so he could fulfill his dream or go home and forget this all happened. If there was a third option he didn't see it. If Naruto was able to unlock his aura Jaune was sure he would have. Stupid forged transcripts.
He should choose to turn back now, he knew that. If he was killed that would be it, he'd be dead. There was no retry screen to take him back to the beginning of the level so he could have another go. He could go back to Ansel, make a life, find a wife, and live out his days in peace. It's what he should do. It's what any sane person would have done.
I don't want to give up. Not again. Not now that I realize I've been giving up all this time. Jaune had said he'd show everyone what he could do as a huntsman. Was he going to add breaking that promise to the list of regrets he had? Not again. He repeated. Plus, some people believed unlocking your own aura to be a matter of will. If he refused to give up it was possible his body was more likely to try and save him.
"And that is a full explanation on the nuance of what we know to be aura, at least at this moment." The girl finished what felt like a long-winded explanation. Considering Jaune's attention level had been somewhere between none and nonexistent that was merely a speculative assumption as he actually had no idea.
"Thanks, that was… helpful?" Jaune guessed. The first part had been. That was the part that gave him a plan, albeit a poor one. "Hopefully I'll unlock my own aura when they start sending grimm at us."
"You can't be serious. You intend to go against the forces of grimm auraless?" She asked him incredulously.
Jaune shrugged. "Not like I haven't done it before." Which was true… technically. He only hoped that-
"Why don't you ask one of the teachers at Beacon to do it for you? I'm sure they accepted you knowing they would need to unlock your aura for you once you arrived."
"Religious reasons," Jaune answered automatically, surprising the girl and himself at the same time. That one was an outright lie, breaking form from all his previous answers. He doubted not wanting to get expelled was a good basis for the foundation of a religion. If it were, it was apparent he'd be a loyal believer.
"It's hard to imagine a religion that forbids you from unlocking your aura could survive in times like these," The girl said, clearly critical of his completely bogus faith.
"They don't," Jaune quickly backpedaled. When she delivered him a quizzical arched eyebrow he realized he had no idea where he was going with this. His mind raced for something to say. "They only forbid us from having our auras unlocked by superiors… because… our god is the only superior who can bestow the gift of aura upon us. That's why I'm surprised to hear that people can unlock others aura at all."
What the hell am I saying?! Jaune wanted to scream. That makes no sense!
"That's… an interesting faith you have." The girl responded uncertainly. Considering he'd made it up on the spot that didn't surprise him. "Does that mean a peer unlocking your aura is considered acceptable?"
"That!" Jaune pounced on the offered justification as immediately as it was presented. "I mean that is how it normally goes. I was unlucky that nobody my own age wanted to become a huntsman. Normally that wouldn't be the case."
"I suppose that makes some level of sense. If enough children aspire to be huntsmen it's likely one will be faced with a problem in which your 'god' bestows his 'blessing' upon. At that point that one person is able to share it with the rest. I assume that's the gist of it?"
"I couldn't have given a more perfect explanation myself," Jaune admitted. He really couldn't have. Now to try and dig himself out of the hole he'd made before she started thinking he was a nutbag. "Between you and me, I'm not like I'm a devout believer or anything. It's a community thing… the nail that sticks out and all."
The girl gave the smallest of smiles. "You needn't worry. I have no intention of telling anyone."
"Thanks, not only for that but for everything." Jaune expressed his gratitude before turning to leave. Maybe he could find another student and ask them to unlock his aura. He wouldn't want word to get back to this one and have an inquisition started into his made up religion.
The girl caught his wrist in her hand. His brain felt the need to remind him how delicate and tiny it was, her fingers not even long enough to encircle his wrists. "Stop." She ordered him, her cheeks slightly tinged with red.
Jaune immediately complied. "Stopping."
And then he waited. He didn't move, the girl didn't move. He didn't speak, the girl didn't speak. The hormonal part of his teenage brain felt the need to point out that her hand was warm on his skin. He wanted to lobotomize that part of his brain before its thoughts developed any further and forced him to make a fool out of himself more than he already had. I couldn't think of anything better than religion? Come on!
"I want you to know that this means nothing," The girl paused, seeming adamant on making that point clear. "I would feel irrationally guilty knowing I could have done something to help prevent the death of a fellow classmate. This is for my sake, not yours."
"I'm going to be honest here — I have no idea what you're talking about." Jaune unabashedly admitted to how out of the loop he was with whatever this conversation was now about.
"Just- stop talking, okay?" The girl's tone made it ambiguous whether that was an order or a request. Either way, Jaune complied. The girl took a few deep breaths, steadying herself as she calmed down. Once she'd done so she lifted the hand that had been holding his wrist and rested it on his shoulder.
"For it is in nobility that we achieve ascendancy. Through our ascendancy, we are given an obligation to lead all who are lost. Infinite in responsibility and bound by duty, I guide your soul to its fullest potential, and by my will, share mine own authority with you."
Jaune was reminded of a time he'd gone and put his favorite canned soda in the freezer as a child. He'd wanted to cool it faster so he could drink it, but then he'd went and forgotten about it for a few hours. By the time he'd gotten to the drink and popped the tab to open he found himself greeted with a surprise. The frozen liquid had expanded, causing the contents to seek escape through the only avenue Jaune had given.
He felt that with his soul. Whatever she'd done had made his being force itself out of his body. He felt his own energy enveloping his entire body — strengthening it, invigorating it. Jaune knew in an instant that this was the power he would use to become a true huntsman.
Doesn't do everything. Jaune grimaced as the aircraft they were on encountered a bump of turbulence. His stomach deciding to once more make him aware that he was in no way a fan of flying. He'd held out some hope that the miracle power would cure his airsickness. No such luck.
Coming off the high of the experience Juane noticed the girl looked unsteady on her feet. For a moment it looked like she was going to faint. When Jaune went to brace her during a particularly severe sway she lightly swatted his hand away.
"I'm fine… I… didn't know that would take so much out of me. I can scarcely believe how greatly your aura pool exceeds my own."
I have a lot of aura? Jaune did feel like he was brimming with energy. He didn't have any measure of comparison to know if he had more or less aura than then anyone else, but somehow she'd been able to tell. Having more aura meant that he would be able to train more… he had mixed feelings about that.
"Don't get full of yourself," The girl looked a little more stable now. "Having a large amount of aura is substantially less important than knowing how to properly use it," Jaune's entire body drooped at her words as it registered that he had no idea how to use his newfound aura. His reaction was so obvious the girl couldn't even feign ignorance. "Control can be developed through constant diligence. As long as you commit yourself to a structured training program that is."
Jaune perked back up like a big puppy. He nodded frantically in the hope that the fervor of the action would convey his seriousness. "You don't need to worry about that. Training harder was the only reason I wanted aura in the first place." He hadn't even known about the superpowers it gave, not that he was going to admit that.
"A commendable attitude. Now I don't mean to be rude, but-"
"You're busy," Jaune finished with a wide grin. "I won't hold you up any longer. Actually, give me a few more seconds," He commandeered her use of the half-question half-command. Taking his dad's advice to heart he grabbed her hand in his own. He'd thought about kissing it like a knight would a princess, but he didn't have that much confidence. He settled for a respectful handshake. "Let me say thank you, thank you so much. If you ever need a spare set of hands at Beacon, I owe you one."
A red tinge tinted her cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."
As the girl walked away and left him standing alone he couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to be a good year for him. At least that was his immediate assessment. It wasn't until the girl disappeared from his lingering vision that he realized something.
Crap! I never asked her for her name! Jaune cursed his stupidity. I meet a cute girl, things don't go terribly for once, and I don't even ask her name?! Why am I so bad at this?!
Jaune would soon learn the girl hadn't offered her name because she presumed he knew it. Perhaps it was fortunate she hadn't told him, perhaps not. Jaune wouldn't have recognized the Schnee name even if he was beaten over the head with it.
By the end of the day that would be tested and confirmed most exhaustively.
Glynda Goodwitch considered herself a busy woman. In her defense, if another person dealt with the level of work and the responsibility and stress that came with it would have probably searched for the nearest tree after learning how to tie a noose. The fact that she merely considered herself busy was a testament to her mental fortitude few could match. Why was Glynda Goodwitch so stressed?
She was a professor at Beacon Academy. It was an important job that she took pride in doing, though it wasn't by any means simple. Gathering teenagers, throwing them into a boarding school with lethal weaponry, and then having a skeleton crew of a staff to manage them all meant that every back had to shoulder more of the weight than they rightfully should. Unfortunately for her, her colleagues could frequently leave much to be desired from an administrative standpoint.
Peter Port was a good huntsman and a good man. If ever she was asked about him that was what she chose to say before imploring the heavens that the questioner didn't choose to ask for further details. Paperwork was not his strong suit, nor was teaching, nor was leading, nor were many other qualities that you would want in a sculptor of young minds present. He managed his own class, sort of, and could not be trusted to manage much beyond that.
Bartholomew Oobleck was a good huntsman and a good man. He had a great passion for teaching the students that entered Beacon. His was a neverending font of energy to ensure the huntsmen of the future did not repeat the mistake of the huntsmen of the past. Glynda was convinced the only reason his energy was neverending was that he had long since replaced his blood with coffee. Although he was a man who actually did his paperwork, his eccentricities rendered him suboptimal for more public-facing duties.
Ozpin was a good huntsman. As the mastermind behind the battle against the forces of the grimm, he was without peer. When it came to Beacon he was more like an absent father, or maybe an uncle. He'd say hello to the students once in a blue moon, offer them the present of a few words of wisdom, then vanish back into his office until his next sighting. She knew what he did was important. Most likely. Probably. Possibly? Regardless, she tried not to begrudge him for the little time he was able to spend assisting in the day-to-day.
What she did begrudge him for was the barebones nature of Beacons staff. Three professors, one headmaster, and minimal janitorial and custodial staff were the summation of their manpower. The headmaster declined almost all applicants for any position unless he knew them personally. In the case of professors that meant they were all huntsmen he had either trained or seen the training of.
Until today.
A meeting was being held by the professors of Beacon Academy with only one item on the docket. The introduction of Professor Uzumaki. Glynda had no idea what he was teaching, why Ozpin had accepted his application over the dozens she'd suggested to him, not even who the man was. For Ozpin to finally hire someone she half-expected this Uzumaki to have the Mandate of Heaven.
Those were the thoughts occupying Glynda Goodwitch's mind when the staffroom door opened, the three professors already inside and waiting. Those entering the door? One headmaster of Beacon and one presumed Professor Uzumaki.
He was a blond man who looked closer to the age of herself of Bartholomew than Peter. He stood safely below six feet tall, though she wasn't precisely sure how much. She had a few inches on him either way. His garb was foreign, a combination of orange and black patterned clothing with a symbol in bold black on the front of his shirt. The white and red cloak he wore looked ceremonial and had a powerful elegance the rest of his outfit did not. From that quick assessment, she found nothing obtrusively wrong with his appearance, with the exception of the fox draped around his shoulders. She found animal furs to be an incredibly tacky subsect of fashion.
"Thank you all for gathering today," Ozpin started off with his love of clichéd phrases. She couldn't have imagined a more stereotypical way of starting the conversation. She silently scolded herself for her infantile irateness before zoning back in on the headmaster. "For the first time in many years, we have a new member joining the ranks of the Beacon teaching staff."
"Finally!" Peter harrumphed, his mustache waggling like it was alive.
"I admit it has been awhile since we last hired a professor at Beacon-"
Nine years ago. Glynda mentally commentated. And it was me.
"And I can assure you that in that time I have taken every stride to rectify that situation with as much immediacy as possible." A vessel in Glynda's forehead bulged to the point it almost ruptured as Ozpin said that.
"I don't think this candidate has enough practical experience."
"He was a good huntsman, but far too aggressive to teach our students."
"I felt that he interviewed poorly."
"He is certainly qualified… I'm just not very fond of him."
"There was something off about her. No, I can't describe it, Glynda. It's something you'll understand with age."
"My name is Naruto Uzumaki. I look forward to working with you all," He bowed at a forty-five-degree angle as he introduced himself. After a few seconds, he righted his posture and spoke to Ozpin. "If there's nothing more I would appreciate it if you could show me to where I'll be staying. I have plenty of things to unpack."
"Now wait one minute there lad. You have introduced yourself, now you need to give us a moment to do the same."
Everything Naruto Uzumaki did in that instant describes embarrassment. The hand rubbing the back of his head, the narrowing of the eyes with an apologetic smile… and yet Glynda felt he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. "Gomen, gomen. I was exhausted from traveling here on foot and got ahead of myself."
"Not a problem lad. I know all about the grueling fatigue of a long trek. Why one time-" Glynda intervened with a staccatoed cough. Peter's stories were the last thing she wanted to subject a new colleague who was tired from travel to. Peter approached the newcomer, thrusting his slightly fat hand forward. "The name's Peter, Peter Port."
Naruto accepted it with a diplomatic smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Port."
"Respectful, I like that! Good as it is to be polite, I must insist that you call me Peter."
"Alright then, Peter it is." Naruto relented, a hint of unwillingness played across his face before it was quickly concealed.
"Jolly good!" Peter beamed from eye to eye.
Glynda quietly observed as Bartholomew traded introductions as well. When he asked Naruto to address him by either Bartholomew or Bart she saw the same expression he'd shown with Peter. Interesting.
When it came time for her to introduce herself she extended her hand perpendicular to the floor. She was not some dainty thing to offer her hand to be caressed. Not unless some formal luncheon demanded it. Naruto grabbed her hand and shook it twice, same as he had the other two.
"Professor Goodwitch." Was all she said before scrutinizing his expression.
He smiled and she recognized it as one of relief. "It's a pleasure to meet you Professor Goodwitch."
"Is there some reason you're uncomfortable addressing us by our first names? Have we done something to offend you?" She asked him directly. People often told her she was observant. Since observation was the cornerstone of proper deduction there were few who equaled her at deriving information from a set of data. Naruto had reacted poorly to two of them and positively to one. Either he disliked first names or it was because she was a woman.
They'd have words if it was the latter.
She hadn't noticed the color of Naruto's eyes when he first walked into the room. They were a dull blue, deep and dark. Poets would say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. She'd only noticed how dull his eyes were before because something changed when she spoke. There was a muted sparkling in his eyes that had not been there before.
"It's nothing you've done, more of a cultural difference," He assured them. "Where I come from one's given name is reserved for family and close friends. It's considered disrespectful to address a stranger by something other than their family name."
"My sincerest apologies if I caused any offense, Professor Uzumaki!" Bartholomew quickly adopted Naruto's last name. "I consider myself a well-read man and I've never heard of such a custom. I can assure you we meant nothing by it."
"I wasn't going to bring it up in the first place. I'm the stranger here, I need to adapt-"
"Absolute nonsense! Different cultures are to be celebrated, not repressed!"
Naruto didn't know how the landmine he'd stepped on with Bartholomew. As the history professor tore into him with questions, Glynda could see Naruto quickly realizing the depth of Bartholomew's passion. It was odd… although not a historian by trade, she was well traveled in large part due to the administrative tasks she'd taken on for Beacon. I thought his garb was Mistralian, yet I know they have no such custom.
Ozpin intervened, interrupting Bartholomew's impassioned lecture. "There will be time for us all to get to know Professor Uzumaki during his tenure as a professor. For now, let us give him time to rest and recover from his journey. We wouldn't want him to be exhausted for his first day tomorrow."
Glynda had marked the date the new semester started on her calendar before the last one had ended. Nobody was more aware of the student's pending arrival than Glynda Goodwitch. It wasn't at the forefront of her mind because she was looking forward to it, nor was it a matter of dread. It was a transfixed date in her mind at all times because of the sheer quantity of matters that need be sorted before it arrived, and every year she was given reason to suspect that a perilous number of the aforementioned matters were left unaddressed.
But she was a professional. The steep mountain face of duties she had to climb did not mean she'd ignore another if it was placed in front of her. "I'll escort Professor Uzumaki to his accommodations." She acquiesced with what she was sure was Ozpin's implied request. Years ago she'd prepared a bedroom precisely for the occasion of a new professor, possibly in some vain belief that if she prepared a space for them to live one would come. It hadn't been so.
"No need, Glynda. I'll show Mr. Uzumaki to his room myself." Ozpin said.
Surely I'll wake up any moment now. I only hope I haven't overslept. Glynda had come to the realization that she must have been dreaming. Ozpin finally hiring a much-needed teacher should have been cause for alarm enough. Coupling that with him volunteering for actual school management? Preparing for the new semester must have caught up with me if I'm having the professor dream again.
It was an infeasibly cruel dream that had taunted the overworked professor on more than one occasion with the hope that Ozpin had finally hired another hand to help manage the flagship full of students they got each year. This time in particular was made slightly more tragic because this creation of her mind was not unpleasant to look at.
"I looked forward to working with you," Her delusional creation said once more before allowing the headmaster to lead him into the hallway. Glynda was far too tired to react at that point and decided to double up on rest. Maybe if she slept in this dream of hers she'd wake up feeling more rested.
"Fantastic! A foreign professor with an unknown culture! I hadn't dared hope for such bounty!" Bartholomew gushed. "With the new semester coming I had almost reached the point of dressing an ursa up in a jacket and tie and naming it Profursa."
Peter gave a low and hearty chuckle. "It doesn't work out as well as you're imagining it to, believe me."
"Peter… you haven't actually-"
"Quite unbelievable that old Oz finally found a huntsman worthy to enter our illustrious ranks!" Peter executed a verbal backspring to avoid Bartholomew's question. "I'd started to think we'd remain a lonely trio until the end of time!"
"That's… depressingly believable." Bartholomew sighed.
"Indubitably! But we need not fear, for our trio has expanded into a glorious four-part quartet!"
Glynda didn't bother joining the conversation for the primary reason that she was convinced it wasn't happening. The two talked ad nauseum about the new Professor Uzumaki, leaving her entirely out of the conversation as she tried to nod off. Of course, she couldn't fall asleep in a dream, so she merely kept her eyes closed and tried to recuperate any energy she could for when she inevitably woke up. Dream-Peter and dream-Bartholomew were kind enough to let her do exactly that as they continued to speculate about what subject their new Professor would be responsible for teaching.
They eventually did run out of things to talk about. The two bid their farewells to Glynda, receiving an automatic response from her in spite of her efforts to sleep. That kind of conditioned polite professionalism didn't vanish simply because one was dreaming. When they exited the room she made no effort to reposition herself to somewhere more comfortable. Glynda was content soaking up every minute of relaxation until this blissful dream was over.
Another professor… if only. She sighed wistfully, stretching her arms above her head and behind her back.
It would take another four hours before she began to suspect this might not have been a dream after all.
Naruto threw himself onto his bed as soon as Ozpin closed the door. The sleeping Kurama would have been able to make it off his shoulder before being pinned to the bed if he cared enough to move. Alas, he did not, allowing Naruto's neck to rest on his body and use him as a makeshift pillow.
The room was nice enough. Compared to some of the accommodations he'd lived in over the years he could say it was incredibly sparse, but that suited him fine. The life of luxury had long since lost its appeal, making this medium-small room feel novel. It reminded him of the apartment he'd has a kid all those years ago.
It was fully furnished with a couch, television, and coffee table in the living room. A small black electric stove accompanied a matching colored microwave positioned above it. A stainless steel sink, cheap granite slab counters, it was a room that they'd tried to make look fancy on the cheap. Seemed a bit out of place in a school that's appearance made it appear completely loaded. Contrary to how he should feel, the thought of living so meagerly had immense appeal to him.
Teaching, huh? Kurama asked. It wasn't the first time he'd questioned Naruto about his choice, and they both knew it wouldn't be the last.
Seems like a good way to pass a few years. Naruto answered nonchalantly.
Do you hear me complaining? Kicking a bunch of brats into shape sounds more fun than sitting around and doing nothing. Kurama stretched his legs, wiggling his body beneath Naruto's neck. I don't mind the choice you made — I'm surprised you made it. Didn't think you'd ever be done watching over them.
Naruto grunted, otherwise declining to respond. Sasuke had long scoured the world for any traces of Kaguya during the course of his life. They had both grown old and prepared for the beginning of their next journey when his best friend couldn't be certain that he'd wiped out all traces of the progenitor of chakra. Much like Madara before him, Sasuke didn't trust the next generation to deal with the threat if it came. Boruto and Sarada had both grown into fantastic shinobi, yet they both knew their children had not surpassed them.
It was time to move on. Stop thinking about it. Kurama broke his chain of thought.
I can't help it. If Kaguya shows up while I'm not there-
Then they'll die. Kurama concluded succinctly. And it won't be your fault. If you disagree with that, you're an idiot. Which, I suppose, is accurate. Naruto forced his neck back, squishing his partner beneath his weight. Kurama twisted his neck to look at Naruto's face for the sole purpose of delivering a withering glower. What you can't disagree with is that the threat of Kaguya would come in the future. The threat of you staying was in the present.
Kurama was right, he couldn't disagree with that. Naruto heaved a mighty sigh as he let go of the tension he'd built throughout the day. The interview with Ozpin had gone to plan, meeting his co-workers to be had been low maintenance as well. The weight of forsaking his duty weighed heavily on his conscience.No point worrying about it, nothing to be done about that now. I made this bed, time to lie in it.
Right then, he was grateful that the bed was comfy.
And that's a wrap! The Ozpin in this story is not incompetent, let's make that clear. He's got a bit too much on his plate to be dealing with silly high school things on the daily, leaving a lot of the grunt work to Glynda. Now that one blond has hit Beacon, all we need is for the second to join him. Hopefully, you enjoyed this chapter, please leave any thoughts or comments that you have. I enjoy reading the comments, although I've been getting a lot of whining recently. Apparently OFNT needs to have more fighting? That's not happening, though you'll get a bit more combat in this one if that's your fix.
For those who wish to support me, feel free to go to p a treon . com (slash) Faulkner to do so. Haven't had any growth for awhile and that's a bummer. Would appreciate any and all help from those who read and are willing to do so.
