"Now that we've reviewed your scores," said Boq, "I have two questions for you, and one announcement."
"Shoot," said Qrow, utterly relaxed. He was walking around Boq's office, looking at the photos plastering the walls. He winked at Blanche as he went by, and—huh. "That's a new one."
"I could hardly pass it up," said Boq with undisguised fondness in his voice. "Did you think the end-of-year pictures were only for the yearbook?"
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you wanted a copy," Qrow said. He leaned in and peered closely at the staff picture. Yep, there he was. Eyes closed, of course. Taiyang still joked that he'd have to break Qrow's aura before they could take a decent picture with him in it. Qrow hated when he told that joke, because it had always made Summer look worryingly thoughtful.
The one picture he had in his wallet was all the more miraculous for all of that.
"So what's the question?" Qrow said, turning back to his boss.
"What exactly," said Boq, steepling his fingers, "is 'Misfortune'?"
"It's my semblance," said Qrow. "Bad stuff happens to me and around me."
Boq nodded. "I figured it had to be something like that. It explains many of your choices—during the school year and during the battle."
Qrow shrugged. "It doesn't let me forget it's there, so I try to plan around it."
"How responsible of you." Boq sniffed; his mustache twitched. "What's your worst-case scenario, if I may ask?"
Qrow jerked a thumb in the direction of the harbor. "That was it."
Boq gave him a deadpan look. "Your worst-case scenario was a Leviathan-class grimm attack?"
"Yep. I checked the records. Normally an attack that big only comes once every thirty years, and it's been seventeen since the last one. You can blame me for it if you want. But you know? It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. We're up for it. We can handle even the worst my semblance can throw at us." He smiled. "It's really weird to say that, but really nice, too."
"I see." Boq nodded. "I presume that will be one of your answers to my second question."
"Huh?"
"I told you I believe in staff development," said Boq, "so tell me, Professor Branwen. What have you learned this year?"
That made Qrow stop and think. That wasn't the sort of introspection he was used to doing. "I learned… a lot more than I thought I would," he admitted. "But if I had to pick something…"
He thought about how Mel's default expression had improved from scowl to frown. He thought about a sloppy but perfectly lethal gravity spin that had destroyed an entire row of target dummies. He thought of someone developing a healthier relationship with alcohol than he'd ever had. He thought about a standing invitation to join a wild but loving home. He thought of cordial and respectful dynamics on the shooting range. He thought of people moving back into the Anchorage to vast collective relief.
He thought of a bow wave of good.
"…it's that maybe I can stick around. In a place like this, I can do more good than harm."
Boq's eyebrows rose. "That seems a rather meager lesson."
Qrow smiled. "Not for someone with a semblance of Misfortune. Not for me."
"…I see." Qrow wondered if the headmaster did understand. It was one thing to conceptualize it, another thing to live it. Whether he did or not, he nodded. "Which means it's time for my announcement."
He gathered himself and spoke in his most formal tones. "Professor Branwen, you have violated every one of the rules I set out for you at the start of the school year. You drank before you were scheduled to teach—out of control once, barely in-control on other occasions. You did significantly more than flirt with members of the faculty. You let cynicism and despair rule several of your lessons. You wielded sarcasm as if it were a teaching tool. You gave special treatment to your nieces, and you brought your personal conflicts onto the grounds."
It did sound bad when Boq laid it all out like that. Qrow could argue the points individually, but the conclusion was inescapable. "I guess," he admitted.
"It is not because of those things, but in spite of them, that I say this last: You are now a full instructor at this school."
Qrow blinked, uncomprehending; emotional whiplash had left no room for thought. "I thought I already was."
"You were on probation, remember?"
"Oh. Oh, yeah." That just renewed Qrow's surprise. "So now you're making me a full instructor?"
Boq smiled. "Professor Branwen, we just looked at your scores—which were high last semester, and still improved. You enriched the lives of several of our students in quite personal ways on top of educating them. You gave extracurricular lessons of many types. And, let's not forget, you spearheaded the defense of this island against a threat that could have destroyed it.
"When you showed up to this office, you told me I'd have to be an idiot to let you teach. Today, I stand before you to say: I'd be an idiot to let you leave."
Emotion swelled up within Qrow—emotions he wasn't used to feeling, and so had no defense against.
He raised his hand before his face to use as a shield. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. Boq was kind enough to pretend it worked.
"Hey, dad?"
No response.
Yang began to speak, but second-guessed herself and looked at her father. She recognized the signs when she stopped to look for them. He'd Gone Away again.
She was a little disappointed. He'd been doing better about that, he had. When she was a child, he had stretches of days, sometimes even weeks, alternating between moping, sobbing, and Going Away. Things had improved since then. Her style being close to his had forced him to play more of a role in her training, and that had kept him engaged. These days he kept himself active almost all the time, which helped. He could go weeks or months without Going Away.
That didn't mean it was pleasant when it happened.
Well, better this than Uncle Qrow's alcoholism. She loved the men in her life, but she wasn't blind to their flaws.
She bit her lip. She had been prepared to defend her plan, but her dad was in no position to deny her. That wasn't right, though. She didn't want to take advantage of him. Even if that was what a good fighter did—pounce on openings.
If you're not cheating, you're not trying—that's what Uncle Qrow would say.
"Hey, dad," she began again. "I'm taking the ferry to Vale today. Ruby's coming with me. We won't be back until late."
No response. He was a blank slate.
She sized him up, swallowed. "I might be going to some pretty shady places, but don't worry, I'll keep Ruby out of it. No sense getting her involved in my fights."
Still nothing. Okay, then. She wasn't going to lie, and this was a rare opportunity to be honest with her father, even if he wasn't there to hear her.
"Basically, I'll distract her with a Dust or weapons shop, then ditch her," she said. "Then I'll start working my way through Vale's information brokers. The less-than-honest ones. I have three, maybe four names to work with. I'll be looking for any information on Raven."
She paused, looking for a reaction. He made none. Yang sighed and relaxed. If that name didn't pull him out of his funk, nothing would. It was with a freer heart that she continued.
"You never told me where she went, so I guess it's possible she's in Vale territory," Yang went on. "I'll check it out. I'll use the fake ID Qrow helped me make to get in to their places, but I don't have the kind of money that these jerks demand, so things are sure to get messy. Should be a good time. I know you think that's reckless, but I know my limits—and it can't be more reckless than charging into a fight with a sea monster, you know?"
She smiled, but it faltered quickly. "I have to know some things—about Raven, about me… and if you won't tell me, I'll have to find out for myself. And when you think about it, these are criminals I'll be beating up, so it's practically a public service."
Saying it like that took her aback. "Huh. Qrow said that people don't do things for just one reason. He might have been right."
She looked at her father again. "Anyway, I'll keep Ruby out of it, and I won't get in over my head. That's the least I can do, I think. And if nothing turns up I won't keep at it. I won't keep punching thugs just for the heck of it." She smiled. "Not until I'm licensed, anyway."
She turned and headed out the door. "See you tomorrow, dad."
She didn't see her father's eyes grow moist.
"Attention passengers, we'll be arriving at Vale Harbor in ten minutes. Please have all your belongings on-hand and be ready to leave the ferry. Thank you."
"So… this is it, then."
Mel looked at Aspro. Mel didn't think he was much of a face reader, but something about Aspro seemed blanker than usual. "I guess so," Mel said.
"Same ol', same ol'." Aspro's tone and expression were an attempt to stay casual. Even Mel could tell it was forced. "How long is it to get home, for you?"
"It's a series of trains to Ozymandias Harbor on the southeast coast, then a tramp freighter down to my village," Mel said. "About four days with the usual layovers. You?"
"I take the airship from Vale to Port Solitas, then catch the next ship over to Argus. The water leg is a much shorter distance, but takes a lot longer. Around five days altogether."
"No wonder you don't go home over winter break," said Mel.
"Tell me about it. It'll be good to be home, though. I missed it."
"I can tell," said Mel. After several seconds of wrestling with himself, he admitted, "I guess I did, too."
Aspro shot him a lopsided grin. "I guess the members of the Crappy Semblance Club aren't too manly to admit when they get homesick, huh?"
"I don't think we get to call ourselves that anymore," said Mel, amazing himself with his words. "I mean, we did have a pretty big role in saving the entire island, and it's not because we were out there chopping up the grimm ourselves."
"Those Xiao Long-Rose show-offs," Aspro said, but with no heat at all.
"I guess…" Mel hesitated, then plunged on. "I guess our semblances aren't that crappy after all, huh? We were so angry they didn't do what we wanted them to do that... we kinda missed what they could do."
"Maybe," said Aspro with immense reluctance, "but I guess I've thought that way for too long. I keep calling us the Crappy Semblance Club, even if they are kinda cool."
"Who knew?" said Mel, taking a brave stab at a joke and a smile. He didn't feel it, Aspro returned it even more half-heartedly, and it fell away. That was fine. Humor wasn't really in Mel's makeup. Instead, he focused on gathering his nerves for what he had to say.
It took him longer than he expected.
"You know," he said, slowly, like he was afraid his voice could trigger a mine, "there are probably other students like us."
"Like us?" said Aspro, startled.
"Kids who think they've got crappy semblances. Kids who haven't… you know… considered the possibilities. And even kids with good semblances might feel pretty crappy. If they're alone, or scared, or angry…"
He'd gone as far as he could. The words ran out, like a ship run out of fuel, and he didn't have a harbor to coast into.
"Well," said Aspro, "sounds like those kids need a place, doesn't it? A place to hang, and people to hang with?"
"I bet they'd appreciate it. I think they'd like having a club they could join, and people who get it."
Aspro took a deep breath and held it. "Well, why not?"
"Why not what?" Mel said, barely daring to hope.
"I mean, I don't like being too close to home," said Aspro. "And this is a pretty good school, when you get right down to it."
Mel swallowed. "Even if some of the teachers suck butt."
Aspro laughed. "Yeah, like that Branwen loser. I still can't believe he lasted the whole year."
The announcing circuit chimed again. "All passengers, please proceed to the quarterdeck to disembark."
"So," said Mel hurriedly, a touch of panic rising from his gut to his mouth, "see you next semester?"
Aspro said nothing for a moment—then gave a smile that said it all. "See you next semester, Mel."
Qrow looked around his office and sighed contentedly. His office. That felt good to think. No more roaming from office to office and bumming supplies from their owners. No more doing his work in random classrooms or lounges. He could come back here, keep his own supplies here. It was plain, but that was fine. He didn't own much to decorate it with. He didn't need it. His name was on the front. He knew it was his. That was enough.
A place to come back to. That was a real thing, and not just at the school. Taiyang, in full Mr. Mom mode, had renewed his offer to let Qrow into his house, and Qrow had seriously considered it. He'd decided against it... at least for now. His room at the Anchorage might be empty of the things that mattered, but it was his, and he could return there. Maybe he'd grow into the idea.
He resumed looking around his office. A filing cabinet stood beside the desk. Another luxury: no more hauling boxes around all the time. They could stay there, and only come out when he needed them, either to teach or to edit.
Edit. Heh. They needed the work. To his surprise, Qrow found that he relished the idea.
Opening the cabinet, he drew out the coursework for his favorite class, Armaments I, with History I next on the list. He started with the syllabus, and—having taught the class now—realized he wasn't a big fan of the lesson order. An overview of failure modes was a better place to start, he thought. Then they could go into the individual traits of materials. That would work better.
He took a pen and started drawing arrows. Teach this then and this then… introduce Dust as a parameter early, leave it alone for a while since not all weapons needed to worry about it, then return later once they started on alloys…
He'd have to clear all this with Kijani to ensure he was still meeting his course objectives. Wouldn't that be a treat. Still, it was a price he was willing to pay to teach this course how he wanted it.
How he wanted it… wow, that was something. Things usually didn't turn out like he'd prefer. Somehow, he'd found a place where they did. He could make this better. As long as he didn't need to revise the textbook…
Well, why not? Taiyang had moaned about how long it took for revisions to go through, but it wasn't like Qrow was on a time limit here. Even if the revisions wouldn't be available in time for this school year, they'd still benefit students coming through the year after that. It was worth the effort.
He frowned to himself, and scribbled a note about replacing some of the textbook's pictures. Then he added another note that the school library needed more copies of Braum's Metallurgy for Weaponsmiths. Then it was back to the syllabus, to draw another set of arrows to rearrange…
He was so absorbed in this task that when his scroll started buzzing he almost didn't notice. It registered after the second ring. He sighed, finished writing out his note—whomever this was could wait—and only then grabbed his scroll. He answered the call, set it to speaker, and placed it on the desk next to his papers. "Professor Branwen," he said, as he went back to scribbling on the syllabus.
"Qrow, I need you."
The words and tone were so strange Qrow didn't grasp them. They slipped through his brain, leaving only the impression that he should be concerned. He stilled his pen, frowned, and looked at the scroll. "Say again?"
"It's Ozpin. I need you, now."
An icy feeling flooded Qrow's chest. "You need…?" he said, struggling to find his footing.
"The Mission, Qrow, The Mission! The fort needs holding!"
Belatedly, Qrow's subtext translator came online, and its output struck him with horror. Amber needs defending.
The walls of disbelief came crumbling down, and panic thundered through like an invading army. Qrow's arm shot out, snatching up his scroll and disabling the speakerphone as papers fluttered from his desk, unnoticed and unmissed. "Now? An attack, now?"
"Yes! You're the only one who can possibly get there in time. You have to leave, now!" Every second counts.
Ozpin was all but screaming. It was a level of distress Qrow had never heard from him before in all his years of being the man's emissary. Qrow felt himself contract that same distress, felt the panicked energy fill his muscles. He'd forgotten, he was supposed to be holding the fort, how could he have forgotten?! He darted to the window and threw it open. "Coordinates?" he said as he moved.
"Coming to you," Ozpin replied, and this too spoke to his desperation. Ozpin would never dare send information that sensitive unless it was going to be moot immediately.
Qrow glanced at his scroll as he backed up in the classroom. "Got 'em," he said, internalizing them at a glance. "Going."
"Hurry!" Hurry!
Qrow pocketed his scroll, took a running start, launched himself through the window, and went bird as he cleared the glass.
He pumped his wings to gain altitude, then veered onto his new course, heading east-southeast with his bird-amplified sense of direction. He poured aura into his wings, lavishly burning his strength, sacrificing endurance on the altar of speed.
He was over the town in moments. It was shockingly calm. It seemed incredible that the people there were going about their usual business, amazing that they weren't scrambling in terror. This was what it meant to be in a secret war—to shoulder burdens no one else knew needed carrying.
He was glad his panic wasn't contagious. He would have set Patch aflame with it.
On he flew, over the corner of Patch. In short order land vanished from underneath him, and he was out over open sea. A flock of gulls circling near island's edge called angrily at him, irritated at the interloper. He skirted just out of their range—a midair turf war would delay him more than a course correction. Nothing mattered next to speed.
His wings were starting to burn. Too soon. He had way too many miles to go for his wings to be aching now. Aura would pick up the slack. It had to. He'd suck up the pain.
He deserved it, after all.
Because this was his fault.
Ocean stretched before him. The straits separating Patch from mainland Sanus had never seemed so vast. They left Qrow with nothing to look at, nothing to focus on, nothing to think about past his own anxiety and guilt.
And so, with nothing else to do, nothing else he could do, he prayed.
I know you Brother Gods abandoned us, but please, if you or anyone else can hear me, if anything out there's listening, I need you. I need your help.
I thought calling in a sea monster was the worst thing I could do, but that was vanity. This is so much worse. Amber is going to die because I'm not there to save her. The power of a Maiden will go to the enemy. You don't want that to happen, right? You can't. It'd mean so much suffering, so many deaths if it happens. Humanity will be closer to extinction if I can't stop it. And…
And it'll be my fault. I abandoned my responsibilities. I left Oz hanging high and dry without me. I left The Mission, I let myself be distracted by… by fun, by love, by things that made me…
I forgot. I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to bring misery and pain wherever I go. That's who I am. I thought I didn't have to, thought I…
A shift in the wind caught him for a moment. He struggled to maintain even flight, beating his wings ever harder as he navigated through it. He steered into the new wind and let it lift him, straying from his course and his destination—just for a moment, just long enough to stabilize…
I was selfish. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again, I swear.
So let this fall on me. Don't let Amber suffer for my mistake. Don't doom humanity because I screwed up.
Please. I…
I swear, if you let me get there in time, if you help me save her, I'll never teach again. I'll give up this thing that made me… made me happy, if it means I can do this.
I'll give myself back over to The Mission with everything I've got. I'll devote myself to it, body and soul. No more distractions, no more teaching, I promise, if you please let me make it.
The distant shore of Sanus came into view, cresting the horizon. Somewhere beyond that shore, a woman was fighting and dying unseen as the world hung in the balance. Qrow's wings burned. He poured out his soul to make up the difference.
Please.
End.