GOMU GOMU NO!~ Welp, damn didn't expect to see me again did ya? To keep things short, after much contemplation and lack of finding someone to adopt my story, I decided to give this another whirl. After all, four times a charm right?
Anyhow, just letting you know, there will be a few subtle and major changes in my story. The premise is still the same, and Jaune and Emerald will still be Hawkins' kids. However, I've decided to elaborate some facts here and there and show some scenes that I offscreened.
Also, chapters will no longer be uploaded on a 1-4 day basis. Instead, I will write out an entire story arc and release it in bulk. So you can expect a total of 1-15 chapters (rough estimation) for major arcs, and 1-6 chapters for Sub-arcs. Though I don't plan on setting an official due date for these arcs.
Plus I'll be using this symbol for scene changes : /-/. It's just to that's it's easier to see as a line-break is kinda hard to notice when my phone is on its dark setting.
This first arc is an exception, as it's mainly a premise instead of a whole plotline.
I know I've annoyed and earned the ire of many of my readers and fans with my constant back and forth with fanfiction, and I have no one else to blame but my own hypocrisy and poor attitude towards my promises and responsibilities.
So, without further ado, a big welcome to my returning readers, and always a pleasure to have a new one come around.
Cheers, Searoar.
*Farmland Arc. Begins.*
The world of Remnant. Once a bastion of benevolence and trust has allowed the curtains of the night to cast an everlasting shadow upon its crippled earth and war-torn civilizations. Though it wears a plastic mask of peace, the ugly truth is always there, staring us back in the face.
His shoulders weighed by the yolk of responsibility, a cloaked figure staggered under the curtain of nightfall and through the bountiful gardens that once belonged to him. Fresh fruit and the sweets they provided, the man's tongue salivated but his throat kept dry. The bleak clouds of his breath, obscuring his view while joining the dense mist as he ran past his family statues.
Each stone structures served as a reminder of what he'd failed to become. Swords and shields clasped in their gray hands, each stood firm, brimming with determination and resolve.
"Please, grant me, strength ancestors, my spirit is weak!" The cloaked man cried as the twisting cobblestone paths led to a daunting iron gate. Its presence foreboding, the man grit his teeth and rammed his shoulder against the iron frames.
"Harold Arc!" The shrill cry of his pursuer stirring the mist, the man in question felt his heart pound against his cracked bones.
Though weary, a flame had been lit in his cerulean eyes as he banged his head against the gate.
"Please, great god of Oum, bless this brave choice of mine!"
The iron confines complied. With a violent snap, the bolts and hinges collapsed and the gates fell. Harold turned toward his former home. All the memories he'd shared with loved ones, wasted by a single weed who'd rooted her presence in his family tree.
Tears marking his scarred face, the heir to the Arc household fled the premises to seek cover in the winding paths of the nearby forest that separated the mansion and the port.
Trudging down the coiling roads, mud slapped his heels as he twisted and turned. The wound on his forehead taking its toll, Harold's vision blurred and his steps slurred. The crashing of waves ringing his ears and bobbing boats in sight, the mist thickened with every step as Harold cheered before he felt no ground beneath his shoes.
"Gaaah!" Plunging deep in the ocean waves, he kicked furiously to keep his head and baby above the water.
"I've reached the port!" He cried with dread.
"I'm so sorry son!" Harold did his best to embrace his child and provide him the warmth he deserved. A trembling hand latched on the edge of the boarding platform, blood trickled from Harold's fingertips as they dug in to hoist up his beaten body.
A blaze of flashing lights burst through the mist like streaming fireworks. Most would find this spectacle beautiful, but for Harold, this was a warning of death.
The last vessel of hope intact, the noble Arc hobbled across the decks of his trusty fishing boat and tore apart his wet pockets for a silver key. He thrust the item down the boat's ignition and cranked it until the engines roared in triumph.
Red dust particles exploded from the exhaust. The fuel tanks three-fourths empty, Harold had just enough fuel to reach the city of Argus. There, he'd find refuge under the protective wings of his friends and disappear into the shadows. This wasn't the ideal life he wanted for his son, but Harold was determined to give his boy the life he deserved.
"HAROLD!" Another wailing cry as a beam of white light blew past his ship. Scuffing the rims of the hull before erupting in the ocean.
"Not today, bitch!" The Arc yelled with gusto. Stomping on the pedal, he tightened his grip around his son and made his way into the obscuring fog. Nature warmly accepting the father and his child in its misty embrace, the fishing boat disappeared, never to be seen again.
/-/
Though his freedom well earned, Harold would not be the man to cradle his infant into adulthood. For fate had another candidate in mind, whether the pirate was prepared for the duties of parenthood... remained to be seen.
"...tain."
"Captain!" Called a familiar yet raspy voice. His life flashing before his eyes, Hawkins sprung to his feet in a bewildered daze. His clothes torn and bloody, he felt at least four ribs crack with his sudden movement. His ears following the source of his ally's voice, only for his crimson eyes to bear witness a sight he wished he could forget. Rushing to Faust's side, Hawkins knelt beside his last living comrade.
"Farewells were never my forte. What should I say now?" The cat mink wheezed. His fur charred and his left eye swollen to the point of blindness, Faust could feel the clutches of death wrap around his heart with the impending sense of doom.
"Don't give up on me, Faust! You still have a 4% chance of surviving!" The magician whipped his head back and forth across the broken deck, his dirtied golden locks swaying as he did so. Bloodied corpses littered the downtrodden deck, and the stirring waves beneath the shattered hull were on the verge of claiming the ship.
The failed attempt to escape Saobody Archipeligo, the glittering admiral, and the bear-themed warlord was the only thing Hawkins could remember before being engulfed in fog. All his crewmates deceased, save for Faust, Hawkins could feel his stoic demeanor crumble under the pressure of despair. His eyes watered, his hands quivering. The only thing the pirate could think of was the fear of losing his first friend.
An abrupt cough brought Hawkins back to reality.
"Faust, you've been my right hand for 3 years!" He winced. His declaration eliciting one last ounce of willpower from the mink.
"Haha, this is the first time I've seen your visage filled with emotion. I just wish I could have seen you smiling instead of crying your heart out." Faust put all his remaining energy into his lips and stretched a genuine smile. His bent whiskers raising themselves to the sky.
"Don't let this be your last voyage, sir. There's still so much to see in this world." Faust's chest heaved as he chuckled.
"I'll even spare you the effort and get a head start in scouting the spirit planes. Sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?"
A thud against the sinking hull disturbed the tender moment. Hawkins and Faust focused their sights on the small fishing boat that nudged their ship, teetering the upper deck, the mainmast snapped and plunged into the water, causing a brief wave to splash on the weakened pirates.
"Would you look at that? I guess the dreaded reaper has been replaced by an angel for this night." Faust's words were stifled by the sound of dead bodies falling into the ocean. Each one bringing a tear to his golden eyes.
A cloaked figure limped onto the deck. His breaths ragged, his ankles twisted and cracked with each step.
Hawkins reached for his sword, but a firm hold wrapped around his wrist.
"Observe closely, captain. That stranger is no threat to us. Instead, it seems he has been through a similar experience to ours. If you look hard enough, it appears the shadow of death has made its claim." True to Hawkins' right hand's words, the individual collapsed in front of them.
With a dry throat, the pathetic man removed his hood and stared the pirates straight in the eye. Even on the brink of death an Arc never faltered until they drew their final breath.
"Please...I beg you... Look after my son..." His lids closing, he forced himself to his knees and held out a small bundle of cloth. Said bundle had small puffs clouds of warm air puffing from a gap in the damp sheets.
Both Hawkins and Faust reeled their heads back with furrowed brows. Who was this man, and out of all the people to meet them on death's doorstep, it had to be someone they had no knowledge of?
The magician opened his mouth, but another grip around his wrist clamped his lips shut.
"I know this sounds crazy," a line of blood trickled down Faust's chin.
"But this could be a new opportunity for you captain. Who knows, the boy may end up as a better vice-captain." Allowing the curtains over his golden pupils to drop, the mink sighed his ending breath.
Grieving and confused, Hawkins took off his battered cloak and covered his dead companion with an honorable prayer.
His sights on the begging man, his face was freshly scarred and beaten. Despite this, his eyes burned with righteous anguish that impressed Hawkins.
"You can give him any name that you want...but please...don't let him turn into a selfish and power-hungry monster..." The stranger's words and spirit were carried with the fleeting mist. As Hawkins' hands initiated contact with the sleeping baby, he felt a surge of heat rise under the skin of his left breast. When the magician pulled down his shirt to inspect the disturbance, he witnessed a thin line of white trailing along his chest like a pen to form some insignia he'd never seen before.
Two yellow crescent moons with one arched over the other, its light bringing forth a recent mental trauma Hawkins had developed from a ruthless admiral.
The magician's senses stirred by the splitting beams of his ship, Hawkins scrambled onto the fishing boat. He'd never seen a ship of this design before, but he was able to put two and two together and managed to start its engines. With the Grudgedorf bidding its master a final farewell, it accepted its fate and allowed the ocean to swallow it and the jolly roger of the Hawkins pirates down into the endless depths. Taking all those aboard with it. From the corner of the captain's stoic expression, a single tear could be seen strolling down his pale cheek.
/-/
The shattered moon of Remnant on full display, a pair of Faunus dressed in overalls and brown boots had fishing lines cast over the rails of the main bridge of the agricultural district.
His stomach grumbling, the younger of the two men yawned and scratched his furry dog ears. "Well, Sam, looks like we're going home hungry tonight."
"Don't get cocky, Max. There's plenty of night left for the fish to gather, and I don't plan on going home without a meal. Besides, Carla wouldn't let me sleep in the house if I didn't!" Sam tipped his straw hat and picked his front teeth with a small thin twig.
"Yeah, but I've got a wife who's waiting for her dear husband to return. I hate to keep my dear waiting, last time I was this late she thought I was off in Vale getting drunk." Max shook his head then curled a brow at an oddity in the hazy mist.
"Hey, Sam, there aren't any boats that pass through the river at this hour is there?" He nudged the old Faunus in the ribcage.
"Nope, not any legal boats anyway."
Their eyes narrowed at the growing bulb that pierced the mist, the meek humming of an engine quickly turned into great roars. Instincts rattled, the two Faunus abandoned their fishing poles and jumped for cover. With a sickening crunch, metal collided with lumber as the ominous vessel ceased to a halt, lodging itself halfway through the bridge.
Smoke and hot sparks pittered out as Sam garnered the courage to stand. "Oi, are you outta your mind?! What are you doing sailing down here this late at night?!"
Sam bit his tongue. Underneath pieces of broken glass and bits of wood, a blonde man and child lurched over the steering wheel of the ship.
"Oi, get your ass over here Max, and give me a hand!" The older farmer hollered. His friend rubbed his eyes then rushed over, the two Faunus frantically throwing debris off the wounded passengers on the boat.
The two carried the blonde and his child and brought them to Sam's home centered in the district. Unfortunately, the noise and smoke of the crash had reached the ears of the entire community, and Sam's unconscious acquaintance had become a major interest.
Gathered in a small house, Faunus crowded the unexpected addition to their district.
"Who is that man?"
"He's not a Faunus..."
"He came here with a child, where did the little tyke get off to?"
"The boy is with Carla and the other girls. Everybody knows how Sam's wife gets around kids."
The adults openly conversed, and their children whispered in the corners of the room with some standing near the wounded man's bedside.
"Alright, that's enough excitement for tonight everyone. Don't forget that we've got plenty of crops to manage tomorrow, so get going before I get grumpy." Sam barged in through the front door with a man close behind him.
Grumbles and protests erupted in the little home, but the old farmer was having none of it. Sam shoved the more rowdy bunches out with a swift boot, and the competent sort agreed that work came before gossip.
"Well, Tim, now that we've got some peace and quiet you can finish your treatments on this poor fellow."
A round clock ticked over the living room door as the doctor, now known as Tim, inspected the blonde man's wounds. His patient laid out on a medical blanket with a suitcase of precarious tools and medicines beside him, the middle-aged doctor sported a pair of wolf ears with a set of square spectacles and a white lab coat.
"I've cleaned up the cuts and bruises, but the hole in his stomach sure is a blessing when considering injuries. I can't believe he didn't get his organs busted out." Tim meticulously guided a thread and needle through the pale man's skin with Sam sitting in his rocking chair, silently observing his friend's work.
Hours passed, and his job done with, Tim accepted his fees and left with a polite goodbye.
"So, what do you plan to do with him when he wakes up?" Asked a feminine voice.
A slim Faunus, with a pair of wide cow ears as her animal trait, stood at the doorway with a snoozing baby cradled between her arms. Adorned in a light-blue nightgown, Sam's wife narrowed her hazel pupils as her husband shrugged.
Sam stretched his arms and hopped off his chair. "I'm not sure, Carla, but I'm sure you'll be taking care of his baby until he comes around."
Carla huffed but beamed a smile when she looked at the innocent child.
/-/
"... Where am I?" Hawkins groaned and lifted a hand to rub his aching temples. To his surprise, his fingers tugged on a constricting material. Were these bandages? Since when did Hawkins heal his wounds? And why was he lying down on a fluffy bed made of straw?
"Oh, Sam, our visitor has finally come around!" An older woman dressed in a green gown entered the room with a tray of steaming vegetable soup.
The magician moved to stand, but a gentle palm pushed against his chest.
"Oh no, you don't. The injuries you sustained after that boating fiasco left your body in quite a crippled state. Tending to your cuts and scrapes weren't that bad, but dealing with the burns, broken bones, and weird tattoo? Now that was a conundrum."
Before Hawkins could reply, a spoonful of delectable soup was shoved through his lips. The blonde pushed the utensil away, and the kind gesture from the senior shifted to a war of forced feeding.
"Easy there, your wounds will tear open if you stress them too much." The bedroom door opened and a lean and muscular man entered. A pair of muddy overalls over his physique, he wore his trademark straw hat with a toothpick between his wrinkled lips.
"So young fella, that was quite the adventure you had last night. The name's Sam Acres by the way, what's yours?"
Hawkins cracked his neck, peering down to the bandages that covered his limbs and stomach, he realized he was bare save for a pair of baggy white shorts. His valuables found nowhere on his person, the magician's stoic visage turned frantic and he sprung from his bed.
Standing at 6'10 1/2" Hawkins dwarfed the seniors by a good head each.
"My tarot cards, where are my tarot cards?" The blonde demanded.
Sam stepped back with raised hands. "Calm down, I took the liberty of cleaning your sword and drying your cards, but the pair are a tad worse for wear. Plus we had to throw out your cloak, that thing was beyond repair."
The farmer excused himself and tried to bring his wife along, but Carla shook her head to make sure Hawkins didn't try anything funny.
Sam returned with a soggy stack of paper and longsword, its steel glistened with chips and cracks along with many kinks on the pommel.
Hawkins mumbled a humble thank you once his possessions were placed in his hands. He immediately shuffled his deck, and despite the water damage, the cards danced between his palms at great speeds.
Carla put down her tray and an empty bowl on a desk by the window as the majority of the meal wound up on her gown after the brief scuffle of trying to feed the blonde man. Sam, on the other hand, took it upon himself to address the situation.
The stranger didn't show any reaction to Carla's cow ears, so he didn't have any prejudice against the Faunus. However, his demeanor was intimidating, to say the least.
Three black triangles pointed upward replaced the stranger's eyebrows, and his thick golden hair reached the tip of his naval. Not to mention his physique. Firm pectorals and defined abs chiseled in his pale skin, his narrow eyes burned a fiery crimson with a long straight nose between them.
"Say, you never gave us a name." Sam rubbed his neck at the deadpanned gaze shot toward him.
"...Hawkins." The magician grumbled.
"And I'm Carla Acres. Say..." Carla spoke up, gripping her husband's hand for support. "Do you want to see your son?"
The shuffling cards came to a stop.
"Is he alive?" Hawkins asked bluntly.
The farmers puffed their chests, and Carla sped out of the room and came back with a baby dressed in a blue onesie with a white bunny stitched on the chest. A large bubble of snot rose and fell from the child's left nostril as he slept, but woke up with a cute yawn.
"Ababmph!" The tyke spat, his ocean eyes full and round, his blonde hair contrasted that of his supposed father being short and moppy.
"This little bundle of innocence has been an absolute treat to take care of." Carla chimed, her husband giving a pearly smile at the sight of his wife's joy.
"So, what's the name of this boy?" The elderly man turned to Hawkins but curled a brow at his silence.
His mind blank of a worthy name, the magician shook his head. "His mother wanted to name him, but she's gone."
"Say no more, Hawkins." Sam waved his hand then pointed to the open door.
"It's about time for dinner, why don't you join me and Carla for a meal of roasted beef and mashed potatoes? I don't like to gloat, but my wife's cooking trumps anything you can get in a restaurant. Why her food is to die for!"
The word 'death' brought forth brooding emotions from the blonde man. His eyes lost their fire and the corners of his lips veered to the floor. Carla slapped her husband on the shoulder and shot him a nasty glare.
"You just had to use that word to describe my cooking?" She glowered, Sam chuckled nervously in response.
True to his words, however, the mashed potatoes passed through Hawkins' throat like silk, the steaming gravy adding a delectable heat to his meal. However, the magician kept his fork away from the roasted beef slab plated in the center of the rectangular table.
"What's wrong, Hawkins? Are you not a fan of meat?" Sam furrowed his brows, his cheeks puffed with food as he reached for a glass of water.
"It's not my preference." The magician sighed.
"No matter, there are plenty of dishes out there that meet the standards of a vegetarian. Isn't that right, honey?" The farmer gave a toothy smile and went back to his lumps of gravy-slathered potatoes.
"So, what kingdom do you hail from, Hawkins?"
"I don't hail from any kingdom. The place I called home is a village located along the edges of the north blue." Hawkins explained. Earning confused glances from both his peers.
Sam cupped his chin. "North blue, like the ocean?"
"What are you talking about? Isn't this settlement connected to the grande line or new-world?"
"This is the agricultural district of Vale," Carla quipped. "On the continent of, well, Vale."
Hawkins' face deadpanned.
"Hey, I'm not the one who made the names alright? Don't blame me for unoriginality."
"What my wife is trying to say," Sam scooted his chair beside that of his wife and scratched his cheek. "Is that you're in the lesser part of the kingdom, you won't find much trouble here even if you're a Faunus."
The magician curled a brow but didn't press the matter. He didn't want to spoil the moment and give himself a bigger migraine by moving onto a sensitive topic.
"Sam, has the water boiled yet? This little one doesn't like his milk cold." Carla stepped into the kitchen, now dressed in a clean white gown, but still had Hawkins' child cradled in her arms.
"Ababa!" The baby grinned a goofy smile, and both Sam and Carla chuckled at the scene.
"Let me get a bottle then," The old farmer scarfed down the remainder of his meal and jumped from his seat. While the man fiddled around the cabinets and stove, Hawkins shifted his focus to the woman in the room.
For some reason, she'd been stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, but her gaze kept whipping back to the child in her arms when Hawkins turned to meet her curious eyes. . The magician knew the seniors were curious about him, and he'd come up with a plethora of falsehoods should the couple resort to interrogation.
"Here we are, one big baby bottle of warm milk ready to go!" Sam announced and pulled out a chair for his wife.
"Ababm!" The baby chomped down on the rubber tip and chugged down the bottle's contents in a heartbeat.
Carla coughed. "Well, it seems your son has quite the appetite doesn't he, Hawkins?" With a dusting of pink on her cheeks, the cow Faunus put down the empty bottle, but her fingers tightened around the ends of the baby's onesie.
"...Hawkins," Carla whispered so softly the magician almost missed it.
"You said this boy didn't have a name... right?"
"I believe so. What of it?" Hawkins put down his fork and crossed his arms.
Though the elderly woman and her husband had done him a life-saving service, there was a 76% chance that Carla wanted to keep his adopted child. Under any other circumstance, Hawkins would have allowed the farming couple to take away the burdens of parenthood, but he wanted to honor the last request of his vice-captain despite having no experience of being a father.
"Then... would it be alright if I..." Carla bit her lip and turned to Sam. "Name this... wonderful boy?"
Sam dropped his fork, the utensil thudding against the wooden table as all speech came to a stop.
Hawkins, his stoic position firm, made no effort to accept the offer, but he didn't deny it either. His cards dancing between his palms once more, the shuffled paper filled the uneasy atmosphere. His crimson eyes narrowed on the child he'd reluctantly taken under his wing, Hawkins sighed and tilted his gaze to meet with Carla's.
"What name did you have in mind?"
The floodgates of happiness drenching her cheeks, her brown eyes sparkling with appreciation. Hawkins shifted in his seat, doing his best to avoid the radiant smile of the old farmer.
"Sam..." Carla whispered, her tone filled with affection. "I'll give him the name we wanted for our child."
Her husband's eyes widened.
"We failed to have a baby of our own, but maybe this little sliver of youth is our reward for living honest lives...
"...Jaune." Carla wiped her nose and brought the baby closer to her chest. As she did, the sleeping child's snot bubble popped and he slapped on a goofy grin.
"Ababa~" The blonde tyke yawned.
Though Hawkins kept a stern demeanor, an ember had made its presence in his left breast. He didn't know what this odd sensation of warmth was and shrugged the feeling off as quickly as it came. However, this single spark would soon become an unstoppable fire. For better or worse...