"Do you have to go?"

"Where are you going?"

"Can't you stay here?"

"Will I ever see you again?"

"How could you leave us like this, Kent?"

"Kent?"

"KENT!"

My eyes shot open as I awoke with a gasp. Looking to my left, I saw Liv standing next to my bed, a concerned look on her virtual face. I slowly sat up with a groan, running a hand through my hair and down my face.

"You started having the dreams again?" she asked.

"Yeah. I knew they'd probably come back, but I just…"

"You were hoping not so soon."

My only response was an irritated sigh directed at myself. This had been going on ever since the evening Yang gave me her number, and the dreams had only gotten more and more vivid the last few nights. But they were more than just dreams, they were memories: the faces of those I left behind and the emotions I felt at the time. I tried to bury them by forgoing sleep entirely, as my powers enabled me to function at one hundred percent even without it, and yet I had picked up the habit again shortly after I arrived here.

"I'm becoming too comfortable," I murmured.

"Comfortable enough that you only have one minute until class begins," my AI friend revealed. "Up and at 'em."

When she vanished, I got cleaned up, put on my uniform, and rushed to Oobleck's class. Plopping myself down in the first seat I saw, I checked the clock and found myself with fifty seconds to spare. The last couple of students were hurriedly taking their seats, while Oobleck waited patiently to begin today's lesson. I heard shuffling and soon discovered that I had plopped down right next to Blake, whose was in the process of putting whatever book she was reading away.

"Morning," she greeted warmly upon noticing my arrival. She had softened up a little since I went out of my way to help Velvet.

"Morning," I echoed back with a nod.

"Good morning, class," Oobleck began loudly. "Today we will be continuing our discussion on the aftermath of the Great War. Our first subject: poetry!"

A collective groan resounded throughout the classroom, but Blake and I remained silent. I saw her ears perk up beneath her bow and her eyes focus squarely on the history teacher. Considering she was a lover of literature like myself, I guess she too would have a soft spot for its more rhythmic adaptations.

"Poetry can cover many topics: beauty, romance, love, laughter, hopes, dreams, and the list goes on! The aftermath of the Great War saw a massive boom in the creation of poems related to the conflict. Some describe the heroic and nobles acts of soldiers on the battlefield, others were the writers' way of pouring out their hearts on the sadness they felt over the tremendous loss of life."

He drank a big gulp of coffee and then zoomed to the front of the bottom tier.

"Judging from your reaction to this topic, the very idea of poetry is unappealing to most of you. But you know what they say: 'don't knock it until you try it!' Which is why I would like one of you to step forward and present a poem out loud to the class, one made right off the top of your heads! Who is up to the challenge?"

Everyone began looking apprehensively at every other student besides themselves. I guessed that if the class took too long to decide then Oobleck would just randomly pick one, so I prepared to raise my hand, hoping it would set something of an example.

But the good doctor beat me to it.

"Very well then, if nobody will volunteer, then I will select! Mr. Arc! You have been selected!"

"Wh-What?" Jaune startled. "But Professor Oobleck, sir…"

"It's Doctor Oobleck, Mr. Arc," the teacher corrected. "And no buts! Please, hurry and come down!"

"Yeah, Jaune," Cardin mockingly cheered. "Give it a try!"

Jaune audibly gulped, prompting Pyrrha to pat his shoulder encouragingly. They'd been sitting together more often ever since our arrangement was made; it was pleasing to see. The young knight then looked across the room to me, and I gave him a thumbs up, so he reluctantly made his way down to stand before the class.

"Whenever you are ready," Oobleck said, having moved off to the side to give the knight room.

Jaune coughed to try and expel his nervousness, but the struggle was very real for him. He was simply too embarrassed. Every time he opened his mouth, nothing would come out, and with each failed attempt, his body shook with fear with greater intensity as sweat began to pour from his brow. After a long pause, he finally sagged in defeat, and I could see the beginnings of shameful tears in his eyes. Oobleck frowned in disappointment at the sight, while Cardin grinned in arrogant satisfaction.

Time for another push.

"Doctor Oobleck," I spoke out as I stood from my seat, the rest of the class now focused on me instead of my friend. "If I may, I know a method that can help Jaune. Poetry notwithstanding, this does coincide with the task you gave me, does it not?"

"Hmm," the spectacled speedster hummed in thought as he sipped from his mug. "It is. Alright then, Mr. Mason, you may proceed."

I walked down the steps, the rest of the class eyeing me curiously. As I made my way towards the front of the room, I stopped for a second to place my hand on Jaune's shoulder and whisper to him.

"I've got your back. Trust me."

He gave a small, but grateful nod and then I went and grabbed one of those reversible chalkboards that you can move around on wheels. I pulled it into position in-between Oobleck's desk and Jaune so the whole class could see it. I then grabbed a piece of chalk and then turned back to address my fellow students.

"Before I begin, I want to make it clear that this lesson is not only for Jaune, but all of you as well. It works in three simple steps. Please pay attention; I promise it will be worth it."

I then began writing on the board, saying each word aloud as I scribbled it down in big letters so everyone could see.

"I… sound… my… barbaric… YAWP… from… the rooftops… of the… world," I finished it with a dash followed by the letters 'WW'. "That is a direct quote from Walt Whitman, or 'Uncle Walt' as I sometimes call him. Back where I was born, he was a very famous poet who died long ago, but the impact of his works has stood the test of time."

"Why would anyone dedicate their life to just reading and writing poetry all the time?" Cardin asked in disdain at the concept. "What's the point?"

"I'm glad you asked, Cardin; we'll get to that in a minute. Now, for those of you who don't know, a 'yawp' is simply a tremendous cry, shout, or yell. This is step one of my poem-making process: Jaune, give me your version of a barbaric yawp."

"Wait… right here?" He briefly looked to his audience with trepidation on his face.

"Yes, go ahead. You can do it."

He gave one last look to his team, who all gave him various gestures of support. "Okay. U-Um… yawp."

Some of the students laughed a little at his poor first attempt, but I kept pushing him on.

"Louder," I pressed, and he swallowed again before giving it another try.

"Yawp."

"C'mon, that's a mouse. Again!"

"Yawp!"

"Oh for cryin' out loud, dude, put your heart and soul into it!"

"YAWP!"

"There you go," I patted him on the back. "There's a barbarian in you after all, Jauney-Boy. Now, let's move on to step two."

I ran back over to the chalkboard and flipped it around to the blank side. Reaching into my pocket, I then pulled out a large rolled up poster (which actually came from the omni-tool) and then stuck it to the board with scotch tape I swiped from Oobleck's desk. It was a picture of Walt Whitman himself, black and white with his elderly visage, ivory-colored clothes and bushy beard on display, his eyes looking to his right at something off-camera.

"That is Walt Whitman. Uncle Walt. Now Jaune," I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pointed to the photo. "I want you to look at that picture and tell me what it reminds you of. Don't think, answer!"

"Um," the young knight's eyes narrowed at the photo. "A madman."

"What kind of madman?" I asked as I circled around him. "Don't think about it, just answer again."

"A-A crazy madman."

"C'mon, you're more creative than that. Use your imagination; say the very first thing that comes to your mind even if it's total gibberish. Go for it!"

"Uh… a sweaty-toothed madman."

I stopped. "Goodness gracious, man; there's a poet in you too."

By now, nearly the entirety of the class was fully invested in my presentation. Oobleck hadn't even taken a drink of coffee since I started.

"And now, finally, step three. Close your eyes," I covered Jaune's with one hand and placed my other on his shoulder before I began to spin him around slowly. "Now, tell me what you see."

"I-I close my eyes," he started, his momentum building. "A-And this image floats beside me…"

"A sweaty-toothed madman," I reminded him.

"A sweaty-toothed madman, with a stare that pounds my brain."

"Good job. Now, what's he doing? Give him action!"

"His hands reach out and choke me…"

"Nice, nice," he kept his eyes closed even as I moved the hand covering them to his other shoulder.

"And all the time, he's mumbling…"

"Mumbling what?"

"Truth…"

"Truth? What truth?"

"Truth like… like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."

A few more students laughed at his answer, making him lose his concentration and open his eyes again.

"Ignore them, ignore them," I insisted, redirecting his attention to me. "Focus on the blanket, Jaune. Tell me about the blanket!"

He closed his eyes and continued. "Y-You… p-push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick it and beat at it, it'll never cover any of us…"

There was no stopping him now, so I backed away and prostrated myself before him. His team, Blake, and several others were leaning forward in their seats, eyes wide and unblinking, enraptured at what was unfolding before them.

"From the moment we enter crying, to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail… and cry… and scream."

His poem complete, he slowly peeled his eyes open, not knowing what to expect in terms of reactions from the class, which had now gone silent. Then there was clapping, which started with Pyrrha, a wide, proud smile on her face. Ren and Nora followed, then Team RWBY, then Oobleck, and soon the whole class (sans Cardin) joined in.

I'd never seen Jaune smile so big as I stood up and gently grasped his head. "Don't you ever forget this."

"I won't," he whispered. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"Well done both of you," Oobleck commended. "That was stupendous."

"Thank you, doctor," I replied. "But I'm not quite done yet."

"Oh?"

"There is an important lesson to be learned from this, but before I give it, I would like the class to come down and gather around."

"Hmm, why not? Hop to it, children!"

"Yeah. C'mon, I won't bite."

Most of the students were visibly confused by this turn of events but nonetheless obeyed. I took a knee again as they closed in, and so did them one after another. Those in the very back of the crowd remained standing so as to get a better look. Ruby and Nora sat the closest to me, their excited faces reminding me of children about to be told a bedtime story, with their respective teams similarly curious. Cardin waited until everyone else had already moved before getting up himself, staying in the back furthest away from me. Once everyone had situated themselves comfortably and I was sure I had their undivided attention, I spoke.

"Why do we read and write poetry? We read and write poetry because we are members of either the human or faunus races, and both humans and faunus are filled with passion. Now don't get me wrong; the life of a huntsman or huntress is a noble pursuit, essential to preserving and sustaining life in this world. But beauty, romance, love, laughter, hopes, and dreams? These are the things we stay alive for."

I paused for a moment to let that sink in, and that's when I noticed Velvet fiddling with her camera.

"To quote from Uncle Walt again: 'Oh me! Oh life of the questions of these recurring. Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, oh me, oh life? Answer: that you. Are. Here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on, and you. May contribute. A verse.' What will your verse be, guys?"

By the time I finished, the students were all completely flabbergasted, unable to form words as they stared at me in wonder. Some even had legitimate tears in their eyes; even Weiss was having trouble holding back the waterworks.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK

I turned toward Velvet just in time to see her lower her camera, and we shared a smile before my classmates and I got back to our feet.

"Thanks for your time, guys. Doctor Oobleck, I turn the class back over to you."

"Actually," he spoke softly, his usual hyperactive demeanor absent. "I believe that's all for today."

Everyone stared at him like he had just grown a second head.

"You're dismissing us this early?" I inquired.

"Mr. Mason, what you did here today will surely go down in Beacon's history. You managed to convey a lesson to your fellow students that otherwise would've taken me days, maybe even weeks, to teach them. The least I could do is reward your efforts with more than just gratitude."

"Oh, well thank-"

"AWESOME," Ruby and Nora cheered as they jumped high into the air and gave each other a high five. "We're free!"

"Only until Miss Goodwitch's class," the good doctor stated. "You are still expected to be there on time for your trip to Forever Fall. But until then, enjoy your break."

With that, everyone returned to their seats so they could grab their belongings and leave. Most of them took a moment to say 'thank you' as they were walking out, but Ruby tackle-hugged me and squeezed tightly. The red reaper then blabbered something about using her free time to test her weapon's newest ammo before darting away.

"Dangit Ruby," Yang called after her. "Sorry, I gotta make sure she doesn't blow anything up like last time. See ya at the field trip!"

"Peace out."

As she left, Weiss followed suit, declaring that she would get some more study time in. But Blake lingered for a moment longer, looking like she wanted to say something. At Yang's call, however, she decided to simply drop it for now and leave with her team. Jaune's team all gave him pats on the back on a job well done, making me smile. I then noticed Cardin leaving, at last, followed closely behind by Russel and Sky.

Wait, where was Dove?

I hadn't noticed it yet because of how quickly things happened after class started, but Team CRDL was one member short today. Curious, I scanned the school grounds and found him lying on a bed in the nurse's office completely wrapped in bandages from head to toe. Closer inspection revealed his injuries: multiple scratches and bite marks coupled welts the size of golf balls all over his body, hence the extensive wrappings. The trauma was consistent with what I read in a book about various Grimm types, one in particular.

Rapier Wasps.

The realization made me scowl. Cardin was still going through with his revenge plot, even without Jaune under his thumb. No points for guessing who his target was.

Cardin, you'd put your own teammates in danger just to get back at me?

This couldn't go on. Oobleck's little break would provide plenty of time to go over what Liv discovered about Cardin's background. Maybe there was something there I could use to get through to him without resorting to more extreme measures. If I played my cards right, hopefully, Nora wouldn't have to break his legs.

"My offer still stands, by the way," came a bubbly voice from next to me.

"Gah," I jumped. "Nora?"

"That's me."

"I thought you left with your team."

"I did," she smiled.

"… So you came back just to tell me that?"

"Uh huh, and I have! So, bye!"

She skipped her way out of the classroom and vanished. I stared at the exit for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

Every universe needs someone like Nora.

But I had to stay focused. However, the upcoming field trip went, one thing was for sure: this… contention between myself and Cardin would end today.

One way or another.

(X)

A.N:

One more part to go and this arc will be all wrapped up.

In case you are unaware, the poetry scene was adapted from the "yawp" scene in Dead Poet's Society, starring Robin Williams. I cannot put into words how badly I've wanted to adapt my favorite moment from that film into one of my stories. Now just seemed like a good time to do it. Oh, and no copyright infringement intended.

Well, what did you think? Please leave a comment/review; your criticisms help me improve as a writer.

Thanks and see ya later.