Vale was...distinct, to say the least. The city was a forest of a different kind. Not of endless, tall and imposing trees, but of concrete and machinery. Far different than the forests Kazan was forced to live and hide in. Cars, trucks, vans, and other motor vehicles occupied spaces on the streets where horses would typically be. A bullhead or other such aircraft would occasionally grace Vale's blue skies, sometimes docking at the city ports some ways away from actual waterbound ships or continuing onward to some distant destination. Shops littered both sides of the road, ranging from meager grocery stores to fully stocked dust suppliers and ammunition dealers as pedestrians, and occasionally Huntsmen and Huntresses walked, bringing life to an already living city. While it was certainly no Atlas (according to the history books, at least), it was evident enough that dust, and the professions it facilitated, flowed through the veins of this city, perhaps the entire kingdom.

Kazan had been walking the city streets for some five days now, memorizing street names and key locations in an attempt to familiarize himself with this foreign environment. At Ozpin's recommendation, Kazan had taken shelter at an inn by the port. Prices weren't cheap (certainly not expensive either), but that didn't matter when your patron was the head of Beacon Academy. But to that end, the inn was where Ozpin's financial support ended. Seeing as he needed money, as did everyone else, Kazan took on small jobs via some small help-wanted board app on his scroll, albeit very begrudgingly. Oh, that was another thing getting used to: using a scroll, and no, not the parchment variety. A handy little device. It certainly replaced the old clocks and journal Kazan left back in his old hut.

These tasks rarely took more than half a day's worth of time. The hard part was getting to the meeting location in the first place. "These Oum-forsaken streets all look the damn same," Kazan cursed under his breath. Oh sure, the streets had names and landmarks to use as reference points, but so did most sets of identical twins. And it was damn frustrating.

Kazan ambled down the streets of the city, lost in his thoughts, whilst absentmindedly checking street signs to make sure he was going. The change in scenery was rather welcome. Considering he had spent most of his time in the mainland, being so close to the ocean was rather refreshing. If he wasn't on semi-official business (at least to him it was), he would have stopped to soak in the sounds of waves gently hitting the piers, watching sea foam roll in and out. But the Yamaoka heir had business to attend to, much to his dismay.

-x-

To say he had not yet acclimated to the more busy and vibrant city of Vale would be an understatement. Which is why the client's meeting location irked Kazan to an almost upsetting degree. "A bar?" Kazan whispered to himself with oncoming dread and skepticism. For heaven's sake, the facade of the brick building had multiple large holes in it. By some miracle, the bar's sign remained intact. Junior's Club, it read. As much as he didn't want to enter, the names matched on his scroll.

Unsurprisingly, Kazan found the bar to be very much still active, as he entered the building. The center dance floor was still littered by drunks dancing in a haze under a multitude of colored lights, flickering, flashing, and spinning. Loud, obnoxious disco music blared out from speakers overhead. Kazan made his way towards the front of the bar, maneuvering between the crowd, before pulling a barstool aside and taking a seat, patiently waiting for the client. The contract had dictated for Kazan to wait at the front for the client to arrive and deliver instructions.

"You, uh...you're a bit too young to drink, my man."

Kazan looked over to where the voice came from. A tall, black and short haired man wiping freshly washed drinking glasses. Cloth bandages wrapped around his head, rustling against his hair. Kazan turned his gaze back to the dancing crowd. "I'm not here for a drink."

"Then what the hell are you here for?" The man inquired.

"It's nothing that concerns you." Kazan replied offhandedly.

Junior's eyes squinted with irritation. "Listen pal, if you're not gonna buy something, then get the hell out. This isn't your social club," he growled. Kazan's gaze returned to the man behind him. "I take it you're the 'Junior' in 'Junior's club'?"

"Why, yes I a- Hey! Don't change the subject!" Junior shouted as his face switched from proud to angry. "If you're not gonna buy anything, then get the fu-"

"He's with me, Junior."

Kazan's head turned to meet the green eyes of a short, brown haired man whose choice of attire didn't fit the atmosphere of the club, to say the least. 'Then again,' Kazan thought to himself. 'Neither am I.'

Junior reeled backwards as groaned to himself. "Why does my bar attract all the worst kinds of people?"

He turned and pointedly glared at the newcomer. "And you haven't paid your tab in eight months you cheap fu-!"

"Yes, yes," the man waved his concerns, grinning slyly. "Be a chum, Junior. I'll pay it next time, swear it on 'me mother, I do!"

"You said that last time, you old fart!"

"Just go do your job for Gods' sake, man."

Junior stomped off to the back room, muttering curses under his breath about psychopath blondes and brown haired freaks. "I need a drink—no, I need a revolver and six fire dust rounds."

The "old fart" sat comfortably next to Kazan, reaching over the bar counter and grabbing a bottle of...something, before popping the cork off and winking at Kazan. "What Junior doesn't know won't hurt him, right? Haha!"

Kazan sighed exasperatedly, pinching his brow before turning to face the person next to him. He looked like one of those old adventurer heroes that explored ancient tombs for crystal skulls and ran from giant boulders. "I'm going to make a wild guess and assume you're the client."

The eccentric individual took a swig from the bottle, before sighing with content and placing the bottle on the counter. "You'd be right, my boy!" He laughed. His hand shot forward in greetings, but did not receive a handshake in return, awkwardly hanging his arm in the air before eventually retracting it. He remained unwavering in his enthusiasm and smile, however. "Bartholomew Archibold Spelunky IV, but Bart works just as well. I own a modest metallurgy facility based in Atlas."

Kazan eyed him from the corner of his vision. "Your contract didn't specify anything regarding pay or a description of the assignment. I am hoping you will provide additional detail, seeing as how I was given essentially nothing."

"Ah, yes, the contract," Spelunky nervously laughed, somehow able to properly articulate his feelings over the roaring club music. "Let's discuss this outside, before someone overhears us….and before Junior starts adding more drinks to my tab," he said, muttering that last part to himself.

-x-

Kazan watched as puffs of smoke left his pipe while he exhaled, leaning against the wall of the building opposite of the club. Smoking was one of the few luxuries he took from his old home. He looked at Spelunky expectantly. "Well?" the heir asked. The man in question seemingly snapped out of whatever stupor he was in. "Ah, yes, my apologies! The contract….

You see, a caravan of mine carrying some precious metals from a recent mining operation was assaulted two days ago while I was doing business elsewhere. By the time I managed to get to the scene of the crime, my crew couldn't find the stolen minerals. The crew I had left with the caravan were unfortunately injured, and thus I had to contact security personnel, who are currently blockading the mine.

Thankfully, the region the attack had taken place in can only be entered from a narrow entrance which my men are guarding."

"And how come they won't deal with the thieves?" Kazan asked, taking another breath of smoke.

"They're….they aren't exactly the brightest bunch of slugs, poor bastards. I'd rather they not risk triggering a cave in from gunfire. Vale's police department said it's outside their jurisdiction since the incident is technically beyond the city borders."

"Alright, and I suppose my job is to help locate the missing metals. How much are you going to pay me?" Kazan's question was met by the same nervous laugh from earlier in the bar. "Well uh—you see….um…."

"Well what? Are you paying me or not?" Kazan growled impatiently.

"I….don't have any money currently." Spelunky sheepishly admitted under his breath. Kazan stood dumbfounded by how much time he wasted, before swiftly walking off. "Then our business has concluded."

"W-wait!" Spelunky yelled in desperation, grabbing the leaving Yamaoka's wrist. "Please, let me fi….you know, you have a fine, if a bit strange, taste in weaponry," the short man commented, his sight curiously trailing down to Kazan's katana, sheathed at his side. "A typical Yamaoka katana. A rare find, these days." Kazan gripped the sword possessively, yanking his wrist out of the old man's grasp.. "My choice in armament is besides the point. And in any case, what would you know about weapons?" Spelunky awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not necessarily weapons per se, but I have a small interest in antiques. It's a lucrative investment. But moreover, I have a colleague who's interested in all things Yamaoka. He'd pay a large sum for that katana alone."

"Oh?" Kazan's eyebrow raised at that. "And why would that be?"

"Whatever the reason is, it eludes my understanding. All I know is that he's obsessed with getting any and all Yamaoka artifacts and that he was under an apprenticeship to some bigshot clan in Mistral. In any case, regarding the nature of your payment, I uh….I can only offer you a personal favor in exchange, whatever that may be." Kazan eyes widened at the mention of Mistral, but pinched his temple in annoyance. "And I'm assuming that's why no one bothered claiming the listing," he sighed. "Fine. On the condition that you will set up a meeting between him and I."

The old man simply chuckled somewhat worriedly. "Ahaha, quite demanding."

-x-

The incident was resolved rather quickly. If anything, it seemed like Spelunky's crew mates were more than capable of capturing the criminals themselves. Kazan's presence was unneeded.

The thieves were found desperately trying to locate another route through the cave system itself. They were apprehended, the stolen metals and minerals given to Spelunky's crew. All and all, things went according to plan and without a hitch. Kazan barely had to lift a finger, though that's not to say he didn't do anything. There were bruises, and curses, and swears, and Kazan was not on the receiving end. And although the contract was uneventful, he couldn't help but linger at his last moments with the eccentric business owner.

[Flashback]

"You could've at least put up a better show, boys!" Bartholomew slapped the back of one of the handcuffed thieves. "You went through all of that trouble, stealing from my crew, and you can't even last longer than seven minutes in a fight?! Shameful display, the lot of you."

Kazan merely rolled his eyes at his client's eccentric behavior. "I assume this concludes the end of our contract?" He inquired.

"Ah, yes," Bartholomew turned to face the hired help. "For the time being, yes. Rather unfortunate, if I do say so myself."

"I trust you haven't forgotten your end of the deal?"

"Yes, yes," Bartholomew waved. "I solemnly swear on the grave of my mother, yada yada….I'll see what I can do about your arrangement with my fellow antique hobbyist. Oh, and I already called in a bullhead to have you sent back to Vale, and then you can scamper back to whatever miserable hole you crawled out of." Upon seeing the deathly glare Kazan sent his way, Bartholomew quickly raised his hands in defense. "I'm just kidding, it was a joke! ….Though you have to admit, my impression of you was pretty spot on, wouldn't you say?"

Kazan sighed in annoyance and turned to look upwards, in a direction he hoped the bullhead would come from. "You brought an entire cargo frigate for one person?"

"Well, it's more of a convenience to do so. I actually intend for the metals to be processed right here in the open, toxic fumes and all that. The bullhead can transport you while we finish the cleansing process, and then come back for the end result once it's over." Bartholomew responded. "Ah, your scroll has a number, correct? Why don't we exchange numbers, then? I heard it's trendy among friends, or something."

Kazan reluctantly handed his scroll over, before Bartholomew returned it to him. "With this," he said, "Now I can call you later! We can be….uh….what's the word….text buddies, yeah! I think that's what your generation calls it." Kazan, despite only having his scroll for less than a week, was one hundred percent sure that his generation did not call each other such an egregious and corny title.

-x-

Some time would pass until the bullhead would arrive. As it slowly hovered a few inches above the ground, Kazan heard his name called out, quickly catching a heavy object hurtling towards his face.

Bartholomew approached him with an eager grin. "Consider it a gift, for our first business together."

Closer inspection would reveal to Kazan that it was some type of ore, encased in a small facade of dirt and rock.

With a frown, the Yamaoka heir extended it to the man who gifted it to him. "I do not accept charity, nor do I intend to count this as some leverage you can use over me." At that, Bartholomew's usual smile mimicked Kazan's frown. "My friend, I'm not some petty thief attempting to extort you of favors, I'm offering you a token of my appreciation." Kazan growled. "Just do your damn part and I'll consider your appreciation duly noted."

"KAZAN!" Bartholomew erupted, anger evident in the redness of his face. His breathing steadied itself as he attempted to calm down, the red of rage slowly draining from his face, until he responded with a heavy sigh. "Kazan, I don't know what kind of upbringing you had or what life you've lived. I won't pry, that's your business and yours alone. But not everyone possesses ulterior motives. Some people just want to be friends. Life is too short and beautiful to resent everyone. Please, just take it. If not for me, then for yourself."

The teenage Yamaoka stared at Bartholomew's exasperated expression, before wordlessly boarding the bullhead, ore still in hand, then placing it in a small hip pouch tied to his waist.

[Flashback concluded]

Kazan decided to head back to his room by the docks. The sun had set long ago, leaving only street lamps and the moon to light his way. And though his eyes aimlessly wandered the streets, his mind still lingered on his last conversation with Bartholomew. He cursed himself. He didn't drink a drop of alcohol and he felt as though his mind was stuck in some drunken haze. And then realization struck like a splash of frigid, icy water. A cold sweat ran down the side of Kazan's head, his feet stuck in place as if sunken in mud.

How does Bartholomew know his name?

An almost animalistic snarl graced Kazan's lips, his eyes narrowed dangerously. His breathing became shallow and quick as his chest rose up and down with each short lived breath. His hands, as if possessing minds of their own, reached into the side pouch on Kazan's hip, pulling out his smoke pop and lighter.

He somewhat frantically lit the pipe, placing the smaller end in his mouth, as he exhaled a large puff of smoke. 'Easy,' he told himself, the smoke filling his lungs and lulling his beating heart. It'd be unbecoming of a Yamaoka to break his composure in such a way, especially in broad….moonlight? Kazan decided to not look any deeper for the moment, opting instead to continue down to his hotel room. He was admittedly exhausted, having to deal with his client's eccentric behavior and with his first day at Beacon quickly approaching, he had to make sure he was ready. "Just finish these four years and you'll be rid of Ozpin," he told himself. And with Bartholomew granting him a potential lead, Kazan could barely contain his excitement or suppress the grin forming on his face. "Soon. Soon, it will begin."

-x-

Although this was hardly Kazan's first time riding in an airship at this point, he felt no more out of place any other time than he did now. Maybe it was the sheer number of people who were onboard with him, their overall much more modern and sleek attire, or just how everyone was brimming with excitement to an almost nauseating degree, filling the airship with joyful and electrified chatter. But he could hardly fault them. They had relatively normal and noble aspirations. They'd be taking the next step into their lives as huntsmen. Not all of them had ulterior motives; some just wanted to be heroes for the sake of humanity. At least, that's what the textbooks had told him. Kazan had spent his previous week catching up with the new world he had originally isolated himself from. Though, the majority of what he read was what the clan, specifically his father, had already taught him. Strategy, political structures, races, geography, combat, the clan let very little evade them in terms of knowledge. Admittedly, Kazan enjoyed the first and last classes much more than anything in between, but he nonetheless did study everything he was given.

The airship had made its final student pickup on some small island named Patch. And while Kazan had been content with simply going to sleep, the once tolerable noise levels had significantly increased with the new arrivals from Patch. One pair in particular made Kazan especially irritated. A pair of sisters, they seemed to be. The taller, blonde, and presumably older sister caught her crimson haired sibling in a bone crushing hug, squeezing the air out of her as she gushed in excitement about how her younger sister would be attending the academy. "Oh, I can't believe my baby sister is going to Beacon with me!" She exclaimed. The younger sibling in question managed to let out a suffocated, "Please stop."

The older blonde relented, releasing her sister. "But I'm so proud of you!"

"Really sis, it was nothing."

His eyes and ears turned towards the holographic news broadcast, tuning out the two siblings. A marvel, really. Kazan had seen nothing like it before, save for his new scroll. He understood little of how the holograms worked, only that they did. An anchorwoman, Lisa Lavender (according to the card below her name) spoke clearly, a photo of animal eared people carrying various protesting rhetoric and calls to action. Ah, the Faunus. An even more mystifying subject matter. "Thank you Cyril. In other news, this Saturday's Faunus Civil Rights protest turned dark when members of the White Fang disrupted the ceremony. The once peaceful organization has now disrupted-"

Kazan's attention caught itself as a hologram of Ozpin's figurative right hand appeared on the screen. "Hello, and welcome to Beacon!" Glynda said. A soft, "Who's that?" emanated from the earlier blonde girl. "My name is Glynda Goodwitch," the hologram replied. The blonde girl gave a simple, "Oh." Glynda's hologram continued. "You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy. Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and training to protect our world." And with that, the short speech had ended, though to Kazan's disappointment (and his boredom) the news had not returned.

Kazan watched as the tall tower he presumed to be part of Beacon's campus got ever so slightly larger as the airship continued to fly. He grinned to himself in spite of his typically cold nature. "Would you look at that?" He asked himself. Kazan had no appreciation for architecture; for all he cared the academy could've been a cardboard box and it would've felt exactly the same to him. But the tower, and Beacon by proxy, felt somewhat mystical, looming above some of the taller buildings in Beacon, as if it originated from the fairy tales he'd often hear his mother recite to his younger siblings. He missed her dearly….

He shook his head, catching himself, lest he further romanticize a school for heaven's sake. "How much longer until we land?" He grumbled. His eyes wandered around before stumbling on another panel near the front of the ship. "Another two hours," he sighed to himself. Now then, how does one entertain themselves for two whole hours? Well….that guy puking in the corner is a good enough distraction, though for the sake of Kazan and the rest of the passengers, the Yamaoka heir mentally prayed he wouldn't still be hurling for the remainder of the flight.

-x-

An unexpected and sudden stop made Kazan jolt forward in his chair as the airship landed, before it opened its doors to unload the students who excitedly stepped their first onto the front courtyard of the prestigious Beacon Academy, the white haired swordsman following some ways behind. Almost poetic, really. Almost. In reality, most of them skittishly scattered like overly energetic kittens. Those with more restraint (or indifference) didn't indulge in the oohing and aahing the earlier students did.

"Where do I go now?" He muttered to himself, silently cursing Ozpin and his own ignorance. Not once had he bothered to ask Ozpin as to what to do or where to go once he would land. But he had a gut feeling Beacon's headmaster intentionally left that bit out. "He's probably enjoying this right now," he thought somewhat bitterly. Ozpin's previous visits had left Kazan with the impression that he found joy in the frustration and lack of composure the Yamaoka was prone to having at times, even if his enjoyment was only slight. Thankfully, his tall stature gave him a better view over the flow of the crowd. "Might as well just follow everyone else," he sighed.

BAM

Kazan's body tensed, his head whipped over to the sound of an explosion ringing out in the courtyard. As he ran over to the source of the blast, the last thing he had expected to see was….a soot covered girl and the younger sister of the blonde from the airship. The two were seemingly arguing over something, the white haired girl going into some tirade about how Beacon wasn't your average school and how the crimson haired girl should be taking this opportunity. A black haired girl came seemingly in defense of the younger sibling, before saying something that caused the white haired girl to angrily stomp off, and ultimately leave herself. Kazan had wanted to approach the crimson haired girl as she dejectedly fell backwards onto the pavement, but ultimately decided against it, especially after seeing the puking blond from earlier come up to her. "It's not any of my business," he told himself. In a way, he was confused. Where exactly was this unwarranted concern coming from?

He did a double take as he watched them walk off in the completely opposite direction the other students were going, and decided to run after them, cursing himself. Their loss of direction apparently caught up to them, as a slight panic formed on their faces midway through their conversation. "Hey!" Kazan called out to the pair, panting to catch his breath. The red haired girl quickly yelped and hid behind Kid Puke, nervously peaking out and squeaking a question. "You...you're not here because I exploded around your sister, are you?"

Kazan gave her a quizzical look before shaking his head. "If you're referring to the girl from earlier, the presence of white hair does not make us siblings."

"Oh, that's, uh, that's my bad, sorry," she smiled sheepishly. "You….wouldn't happen to know where we're supposed to go, would you?" The blond kid looked to Kazan with an equally sheepish and hopeful expression. The Yamaoka heir sighed, "Yes, I do."

The pair's expressions lit up slightly. "Great! See Jaune, we'll be there in no time!" the girl exclaimed, before she extended her hand outward. "I'm Ruby Rose! Pleased to meetcha!" The now named Jaune mimicked her action. "You probably already heard it from her, but my name's Jaune Arc." Kazan stared at the hands in front of him, almost turning to ignore them before Bartholomew's previous words rang in his head. "Some people just want to be friends. Life is too short and beautiful to resent everyone."

"Kazan," he said in a barely audible murmur. "Kazan Yamaoka."