The severe, blonde woman's forehead creased ever-so-slightly into a frown as she went over the patient-chart in hand. Huffing crossly, she used her index finger to adjust the thin oval glasses that had begun to slide down from her elegant narrow nose. The chart was in a sorry state, with most of the information inadequate or missing entirely. She would need to have a word with the person responsible for compiling the report.
First, however, she needed to verify the information that was actually provided, sparse as it may be. It had likely already been done, but there was an order to these things, a protocol to be followed, and Glynda Goodwitch was nothing, if not thorough.
She spoke in clipped, curt, but not unkind tones. "May I have your name?"
"Kiana Kaslana." The girl spoke in a resigned voice, as if she had given up on making sense of the situation and chosen to just go with the flow.
"Date of Birth?"
"I don't remember."
"Hometown?"
"I don't remember."
"Do you know where you are?"
A shake of the head.
"Do you know how you got here?"
A shake of the head.
"Do you have any memories prior to awakening?"
When the girl wordlessly shook her head a third time in the negative, the stern woman sighed. It was as the medical team had recorded, with precious little of actual substance. The small addendum that Ozpin had provided in a private message notwithstanding, she just seemed to be an average, confused young woman.
Emerald eyes studied the girl. Even under the loose hospital gown and bed-sheets, it was clear that she sported a lithe, but toned physique. Apparently, the extended slumber she had spent in that...apparatus…had not negatively affected her physical health. How such a thing was even possible was not something that Glynda could comprehend.
In her time knowing the headmaster, she soon learned that questioning anything concerning the ancient and esoteric often just led to more, equally fruitless questions. Clearly, this was one such situation. As such, she mentally filed away her confusion for examination at a later time and returned her focus to the matter at hand.
"Your chart does mention a severe case of retrograde amnesia, which leaves the medical staff with very little to work with. Is there anything that you are able to recall?"
Perhaps misinterpreting her tone, the girl did not answer, instead muttering a dull apology, "I'm sorry."
The severe expression melted slightly. "There is nothing to apologize for, Miss Kaslana. We just find your case to be somewhat...perplexing. I hope you can understand," Glynda reassured. She set the clipboard on the bedside stand and adopted a more gentle tone, "How are you feeling?"
The white-haired girl finally drew her stare from the bedsheets she had been studiously fixated on since the older woman entered the room, revealing sapphire eyes to the world. Though stern, Kiana could detect an underlying current of genuine concern in the older woman's demeanor and voice, and this set her frazzled nerves at ease, if only slightly.
"Fine, I think?" She responded, lifting her arms and rotating them at the shoulders, testing their pliability. A series of pops and cracks echoed as her joints shifted at the movement. "A bit stiff," she reported, "but that's probably because I've been in this bed since I woke up.
Glynda nodded, "The medical report stated as much. Ignoring the amnesia and the obvious...anomalies...concerning your discovery, you are a healthy young woman, much like any other. The bedrest is simply a precaution."
"A precaution against what?"
"I do not know," Glynda admitted, sighing. "Your circumstances are unprecedented, and Ozpin thought it most prudent to have you situated within arm's reach, should anything unexpected occur. That should be him now," she appended as a polite series of knocks emanated from the ward door.
Sliding open, a middle-aged man in a deep green and black ensemble was revealed. "Thank you, Glynda, for meeting our guest ahead of myself. The Council has been rather demanding of late."
"Of course. I suspect you will wish to take things from here?" A nod from the man sent her rising to her feet. "Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Kaslana. I wish you well."
As Glynda vacated the room, the new occupant claimed the small folding chair she had been sitting on for himself. "Hello, young lady, my name is Ozpin," he proffered. "I am the headmaster of Beacon Academy, where you currently reside, as it so happens."
"Kiana Kaslana." She was getting used to introducing herself to strangers. After running through the gamut of medical tests and being declared stable, she had been introduced to a never-ending parade of doctors and assistants, all asking the same question. Were those notes they had taken just for show? What was the point of reiterating the same questions over and over?
"It is nice to meet you, Miss Kaslana. I hope Glynda did not give you too much trouble. Between you and I, my deputy can be a bit overbearing, but I promise she means the best."
Kiana shook her head. She had found the older woman's brusque manner oddly comforting—nostalgic, even—though why that was she did not know.
"It's fine. I don't mind. But if you're just going to ask the same questions everyone else did, I'll tell you now that I don't remember anything." Stressed and wary as she was, Kiana was unable to keep a slight edge of frost from entering her tone, though the man seemed unbothered by this.
"Ah, yes, your chart did mention a rather severe case of amnesia, but I find that it is often more effective to ask patients themselves of their own conditions." From behind shaded spectacles, brown eyes studied her clinically. "So, Miss Kaslana, do you believe this to be an accurate assessment of your mental state?"
The girl opened her mouth to harshly rebuke the man, to repeat what she had told the others, but paused to ponder. She was vaguely aware of what amnesia entailed, but something didn't feel quite right about it. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I don't think that's it. It feels...different."
A quirked brow, "Oh? How so?"
"It's not like I don't have memories. I can remember remembering things, if that makes sense?" A short nod from the bespectacled man prompted her to continue. "I think my memories are in here somewhere," She tapped her temple with a delicate finger, "but when I try to remember something it's like I hit a wall in my head. It's like somebody put up a big gate and shoved all my memories behind it." Frustration colored her voice. Clearly it was not the first time she had contemplated the matter since waking.
"Sometimes, a piece of a memory will leak through the cracks of the gate, and I'll remember something. Sometimes it's voices or feelings, but they don't make any sense on their own. And..."
"And?"
"There are...feathers...in my head."
That certainly wasn't what Ozpin had been expecting.
"Whenever I think I might be getting close to remembering something, I start to see feathers at the edge of my vision." Her expressions softened, as if the thought brought a warmth to her heart. "They're beautiful. Bright red and gold, like flames. They dance around in my head and burn away and before I realize it, I've forgotten what it was that I'm trying to remember."
Well that was interesting, if unexpected. Still, interesting as it was, Ozpin did not have the slightest idea of what it could possibly mean. This line of inquiry was likely to be fruitless unless he could understand the underlying meaning of these visions, so he changed tack.
"I don't suppose you can recall any snippets from before being awakened by my dear colleague's excavation? Anything at all, Miss Kaslana? I am sure you are aware that your situation is quite unique, and anything you can tell us would be of great significance."
There was something. It was small, and she wasn't sure of it at first, but after having adjusted to her situation, she was now certain of it. "There is… a feeling. Something is different," her speech was halting and hesitant. She seemed deep in thought, as if trying to put a puzzle together, only to find that several pieces were missing. "Something is...missing?"
"Missing? Might you be able to elaborate?"
"From before. I remember there was something in the air. The general atmosphere, I think? It was everywhere. In some places it would be so heavy it felt like you were suffocating, but in others you hardly noticed. It was like a constant prickling on your skin and if it got too intense it would burn," subconsciously her hand strayed up to her right eye. Tenderly, she pressed her fingers to her brow, as if kneading away a phantom pain. "It was always around, so we ended up getting used to it, but now my body feels so...good."
Ozpin filed this information away as well. One more thing to look into. Instead, he latched onto a single word in her explanation, "We?"
"Yeah, now that I think about it there were others, probably." Her brow was now scrunched in concentration. Kiana was pounding on that large vaulted door in her mind. Surely, on the other side lay the myriad of memories she was so hopelessly trying to grasp. "Friends and family, I think. But I think one by one they started leaving. I can't remember how many of them there still were before…"
"Before you were put to sleep," Ozpin supplied as she trailed off, a compassionate look in his eye. He had no delusions about what 'leaving' could mean. The grotto that she had been found in was ancient, to put it lightly, and she had been the only one there. If any of her loved ones survived whatever it was that had occurred, they were certainly gone by now. "I am sorry, truly."
She seemed too choked up to speak. The reminder of what she had lost erupted into vague ruminations. She could not remember their faces or names, but the feelings she held towards those precious people lay heavy in her chest. Hot and sticky, they twisted her innards into knots and burned at her throat and eyes. She had awoken in this strange and unfamiliar world, lying in a bed and surrounded by sterile, white walls. The cloying, antiseptic smell of a hospital had stung at her nostrils. She had not known who she was, save for a name, nor her place in this world. All she knew was that she was entirely, completely, alone. The mere reminder was nigh unbearable, and a rising tide of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her.
'No', the girl berated herself. She may not be in any immediate danger, but her position was undeniably disadvantageous. This was not the time to wallow in self-pity. She repressed her emotions, reeling them in and shoving them away for the time being. The process of doing so was uncomfortably familiar.
She found her voice once more and forced out some small words, "What happens now?"
"What indeed?" The headmaster genuinely considered their options. "I would like to offer you temporary residence here at Beacon, Miss Kaslana. This is a large establishment, and there are several unused rooms on campus. For the time being, we can have you moved to a small apartment complex intended for delegations from other kingdoms. They are only put into use when the Vytal Festival comes around, so they are empty, for now. You will, of course, not have to worry about living expenses or meals-a budget will be allotted to that-and I can arrange to have a small stipend allocated for anything else you may find that you need."
The offer was generous. Exceedingly so. And that was why Kiana did not immediately trust it. The girl narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Though she did not have access to her memories, a sense of healthy skepticism still lay ingrained upon her mind and body, "Why are you offering me this much? We've only just met. You have nothing to gain from helping me."
The headmaster inclined his chin, meeting her eyes directly, "Is it so odd to offer aid to someone in need? I am sure we could all do with a little compassion in our lives, even from strangers. Wouldn't you say so?" He paused to allow for a response, and seeing none forthcoming, continued, "As of right now you have no personal history on file, no funds and few personal belongings. You have no known connections outside of this room, and I would venture to guess that any knowledge you may have of Remnant is likely to be outdated by a significant margin. To put it simply, Miss Kaslana, you are woefully unequipped for the modern world outside of these walls. Demanding you stand on your own two feet at this point would be nothing short of cruel. It was my staff that had found you, so I feel a certain obligation to ensure your wellbeing until you have adjusted, so to speak."
The girl still looked mildly doubtful, so Ozpin dryly appended, "On the matter of 'gain,' you are an oddity in this world, Miss Kaslana. All the evidence would indicate that you belong to an era far beyond the recorded history of Remnant. The pod you had been found in is, in itself, a scientific marvel; the scientists are having quite a time trying to understand how it is powered."
Pod? Kiana frowned. Something itched inside her skull.
'...powered by the Idiotka's ambient ****** energy.' A voice, which could have belonged to a child, jumped, unbidden, to mind. Vaguely, Kiana recognized it as a memory of things long since passed. It had lacked inflection or emotion, but Kiana could nevertheless recall a feeling of profound sadness emanating from the speaker. 'The Idiotka shall be placed in stasis indefinitely. The ****** and *** shall follow shortly after. This will be goodbye.'
Kiana rubbed idly at her temple as the memory receded. As quickly as it had come, it faded as vapor in the sunlight. It was a voice she recognized, but did not know. Like a half-remembered song, she could recall the cadence and rhythm, but the lyrics fell just slightly out of her grasp. What she could only assume were names had, likewise, been obscured.
Oblivious to her inner discovery, Ozpin had continued speaking, and Kiana roused herself to follow his words once more, "...and if you were to recall anything of your past life, it would be a great boon for the history and culture of Remnant as a whole. Would you not say that is a significant gain in itself? If you still harbor doubts about my veracity, consider this agreement my way of safeguarding a valuable trove of unknown history."
Still somewhat dazed, Kiana could only nod in agreement. The deal was not a bad one. In fact, it only held benefits for her. Really now, what was the worst that could happen?
Jaune Arc had always wanted to be a hero. Raised on stories of glory and valor, he always dreamt of the day when he would join the ranks of his idols, when his name would be sung alongside theirs. To be the blade that drives back the darkness, to be the shield which protected the defenseless, to earn the undying adoration of the masses. It was that lofty goal to which he one day dreamed to reach.
This was not that day. In fact, Jaune was feeling distinctly unheroic at the moment, as he watched a nimble woman dispatch the multitudes of beowulf that had been plaguing him with her bare hands. She was the picture of grace as she flowed between the wolven grimm like water. Where her fists landed, an eruption of black or white followed, like strokes of a brush that ravaged whatever they touched.
She weaved beneath a wayward claw and delivered a crushing blow to a monstrous sternum. Darting swiftly among her remaining foes, she extricated herself from the rough encirclement that they formed. A blistering series of strikes and kicks saw three of the beasts fall and fade away, though this did not dissuade her onslaught. If anything, the blows fell faster, striking more precisely at vital areas. Like chaff before the sickle, the pack's numbers fell, thinning by the moment. Almost as if they had been drawn magnetically, the remaining creatures converged upon her location, snarling for flesh and blood, only to find their bodies crushed to the ground by some oppressive force and their life snuffed out in mere moments.
The woman stood at the ready, though the forest was now silent and still. The alpha had fled earlier, its marginally more advanced intellect warning of a foe that it could not possibly surpass. When it was clear that danger no longer lurked amongst the trees, the woman returned to a more normal stance, and helped the boy to his feet.
"Why have you ventured so far into the wilderness?"
The curt, concise manner with which she spoke set Jaune on edge. She reminded him far too much of his stricter childhood teachers to be comfortable.
"I-I'm traveling to Vale," he stammered nervously. "I'm going to be attending Beacon."
That seemed to take her aback, and she eyed him shrewdly. "You intend to become a Huntsman?"
A sense of foreboding overtook him. He felt like some sort of specimen under the microscope. "Yes ma'am," he said, as confidently as he could muster.
"Why have you strayed so far from the main road?"
His face reddened as he recalled the recent ordeal. "The grimm rushed me, I had to run away."
The woman gestured to the scattered earth where the corpses had lay. "Beset by *these* creatures, you were forced to abandon the road and instead plunged into the forest." It was a question that was not a question. It was a confirmation of something that even Jaune could tell she found monumentally stupid.
When he mutely nodded in shame, she scrutinized him carefully, but turned away, as if finding him wanting. "Turn around and go home," she commanded simply. "Beacon holds nothing for you. You are not suited for a life of combat."
Jaune reeled. Those words again. Those hateful words that he heard from everyone.
"You can't do it."
Who even was this lady? Who did she think she was to pass judgement on someone she just met?
"What do you know?" He snapped, perhaps harsher than he intended, but he couldn't really find it in himself to care. He was fed up with it all. The denials, the pitying glances, all of it.
"I know that you were waylaid by beasts that any aspiring student to a Huntsman academy would have been able to dispatch. Not only that, but you allowed them to force you from the safety of the main road, straight into their territory. Your capability as a combatant is lacking."
"I was accepted! I have the letter!" He wasn't quite sure who he was trying to convince right now. "I'll show them what I can do. What I can really do, and then I'll figure it out from there!"
Fu Hua didn't even need to peer into his mind to ascertain the truth. He had a terrible poker face. "You are lying," she stated blandly. "Or else, that prestigious institution's standards have dropped so low to accept one such as yourself."
Though his face flushed, he did not refute her words. "It doesn't matter!" He yelled, the resentment of having his dream, once again, rebuked filling his chest with an ugly weight. Why would no one support him? His parents, his sisters, no one had ever seriously thought he could rise to the level of a huntsman. When he had been a child, they would laugh at his bold assurances of greatness, but as he grew older, the laughs were slowly replaced with frowns and words of discouragement. More fitting was he, his mother had said, for the life of an accountant or a banker; hard labor and exertion was not something he had in his capacity. In some ways, it had hurt more knowing that she did not harbor any ill intent. She simply wanted the best for him. None had believed in him, so he left to fulfill his dream with his own two hands, but even here and now he met resistance from someone he only just met. It was bitter and cold.
"Why does everyone say that? Why can't anyone just be on my side for once?" He almost pleaded to the woman, as if gaining her approval was what he needed most right now.
"If those that you care most deeply for, and those you do not know speak similarly of your inadequacy, perhaps there may be truth to their words? Perhaps they are simply trying to steer you from the path of destruction. Would you have your stubbornness doom their efforts and yourself?"
He shook his head, "It's not like that. I know I can do this. I...I…" He broke off. He could what? Jaune was more aware than anyone of his inadequacies, as she had put it. He was not strong like his sisters, nor cunning like his mother. He did not have the undaunted courage of his father or the quick wit of his childhood teachers. Really, what did he have? An old sword and battered determination.
"You can't stop me," he finally whispered, resolutely. "Please, just let me go and do what I have to do. You don't have to worry about me." As he moved to walk around her, she shifted to bar his path.
"You will not be dissuaded?" She settled into a high-backed stance, her left hand raised in front of her, as if beckoning him forward.
"I-I won't," despite the bravado of his declaration, the blonde was beginning to look rather pale. Still, he fumbled to draw Crocea Mors from its scabbard, staggering slightly as the expansion of the sheath into a shield threw off his balance. Regaining his footing, he prepared for what was almost certain to be a one-sided trouncing.
However, rather than rushing forward to engage her foe, she stared with those piercing, icy eyes. Critically, the grey-haired woman studied his bearing. "Your stance is unbalanced and your arm is weak."
She flicked a small pebble with her thumb. Her lips twitched downwards into an almost-frown when he raised his shield too slowly with a yelp and the small stone impacted his forehead. "Your reflexes, dull. You have heart, boy, but heart is not enough to preserve your life in the field of battle. Heart must be supported by ability, and of ability, you have none."
She studied him for just a moment longer. Her expression betrayed no judgement or opinion. Finally, she shook her head slightly, relaxing her stance and lowering her hand.
"I am called Fu Hua. Have you a place to stay, boy?" She seemed to have made up her mind about something.
"N-no?"
"Come along, then." Her manner left no room for argument. She turned on her heel and strode deeper into the woods, her flowing robe somehow repelling all dirt and grime, even as it trailed behind her.
"Huh?" He vocalized dumbly, the sudden shift in events catching him off guard. "Uh, right! Wait, why? Ah! W-wait up!" he stammered as her form quickly became hidden by dense, verdurous foliage. Sheathing his weapon once more and stumbling over his own feet in the process, he rushed after her, calling, "My name's Jaune by the way! Jaune Arc! Not 'boy!'"
For what seemed like an hour, Jaune crashed through the undergrowth, never quite catching up to the mysterious woman. In the moments when he believed the trail had gone fully cold, he would catch a glimpse of azure robes fluttering behind a tree and would renew his efforts. Idly, he realized that he could have just ignored her and went on his way, but his instincts, undeveloped though they were, screamed that he didn't want to raise this woman's ire.
Just as the sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, he arrived at what could only be his destination. It was a serene clearing in the forest, free of foliage, save for the low-cropped grass. At the center of the clearing, a grandiose structure stood. It seemed almost modular, as if similar, increasingly smaller structures had been stacked on top of each other to form the entirety of the building. Even he could realize that the architecture was Mistralian in design—it looked just like the pictures of that kingdom's traditional pagoda buildings. Crimson pillars supported similarly crimson beams upon which a black tiled roof sat. The walls were formed of white plaster and the windows were screened with paper. Through slightly-ajar wooden doors, Jaune could make out the flickering of light and movement from inside.
He strode across the clearing, now bathed in the orange of the sun's dying light. Everything seemed so surreal, so out of place, in the endless forest. At his periphery, he saw flickers of movement, but when he turned his head, there was nothing. Once or twice, he could swear that he spotted the remnants of nearly extinguished embers, but chalked that up to the pervasive twilight glow that seemed to perpetually bathe this location.
For the sake of politeness, he knocked on the open door when he reached the building and then entered. He spotted a pair of shoes neatly placed at the threshold of the entrance, so he removed his own boots and arranged them likewise.
"Hello?" he called as he slowly wandered inside. Dark wooden boards bore his weight noiselessly as he passed deeper in. The house was lit with intermittent, small paper lanterns, each giving off the same orange glow of the setting sun outside. Their flickering flames cast dancing shadows on white plaster. The hallway terminated in a paper screen door. Carefully sliding it open, he was met with an open room, devoid of furniture, save for a single, low table in the center. Two cushions lay on the floor. One was empty, while the strange woman—'Fu Hua', he mentally corrected—knelt upon the other. With a gesture, she invited him to sit.
"What is the place?" He managed to croak out as he took a cross-legged position on the opposing cushion. He only just realized that he was parched. Clearing his throat, he asked again, "Who are you? Why did you invite me here?"
She ignored him, instead focusing on the brewing of some liquid in a small, clay pot.
An earthenware cup of steaming, fragrant liquid was placed before him. Watching the woman delicately take a sip from her own cup, Jaune mimicked her movements. The tea was soothing, bringing much appreciated relief to his dry throat. He soon found a gentle warmth beginning to suffuse throughout his body, and a newfound rush of invigoration coursed through him. Gone was the fatigue he had accumulated in that terror=laden wood. In silence, the two sat sipping their tea. One unphased, the other nervously darting his eyes around the barren room.
Finally, the woman lay down her cup, still half-filled and spoke, "If you continue upon your current path, you will die."
Jaune just barely restrained himself from spitting out his tea. Choking down the liquid he coughed violently, his face turning an interesting shade of puce as his lungs spasmed to expel the foreign fluid.
Waiting for his fit to subside, she continued, "Huntsmen face not only grimm, but criminals and all manner of disaster as well. You are not equipped to deal with such things"
"I know that," he sputtered out, "that's why I'm going to Beacon in the first place."
Fu Hua shook her head, "the way you handle yourself indicates little, if any, cultivation of martial prowess. Even a teacher requires a foundation to build upon. If you go to Beacon now, you will simply fall further and further behind."
"I'll work twice as hard. I'll teach myself the things I should have learned ages ago."
"And when faced with an opponent that far outstrips the few meager skills you have managed to teach yourself, what will you do?"
"I-I've got Crocea Mors, I'll make it up as I go." Even Jaune could tell how weak his reasoning was, but he held fast. "Even if I can't beat him, I'll have a team and…"
"And you will endanger your team," she finished. "If you cannot carry your weight on the battlefield, you are a liability to those sworn to fight alongside you. In time, it will no longer be just your life that is forfeit, should you fall. Merely swinging a blade does not make one a warrior. Senselessly dying does not make one courageous. Foolhardiness is not heroics."
"I won't die," Jaune insisted dully, automatically. It was the first time anyone had so brutally laid out the facts so clearly before him, and he found that he could not refute any of them. He had been living in a dream world. He had been blinded by that enticing promise of glory. The real world was not so kind. "I-I just won't."
"How can you be sure?" Fu Hua pressed. "Were you not besieged so helplessly when first I found you? Could you have survived such an encounter if none came to your aid?"
When no response came, her brow furrowed. "It is the greatest of fools that discards their life so carelessly for a whim," she murmured, something that could almost be called venom lacing her tone. "I suppose fools must be shown, rather than told."
Her speed was inhuman. Her hand darted out, flat and pointed, aimed at his throat. She had not risen from her position, nor had she upset the materials on the table. Jaune froze, cup still held to his lips as he felt the tips of her nails scraping painfully at his Adam's apple, applying no small amount of pressure. He had watched those same hands tear flesh and crush bone earlier today. He knew she was very capable of destroying his windpipe with the merest thought.
"You are dead." Fu Hua stated simply, hand still outstretched. "You followed a stranger in the woods, oblivious to their nature or intent. You entered her home and accepted drink, knowing not what it may contain. You let your guard down and you were attacked when you least expected it, and now you are dead."
She slowly retracted her hand, adjusting her long sleeves carefully before picking up her cup once more and taking a dainty sip. "You died alone and unknown in this endless forest. Tell me, is that the death of a hero? Is that the fate you strive so hard for?"
Jaune could find no words to speak. His throat was still constricted in abject terror and his skin had begun to show a visible sheen of perspiration. Shakily he lay down his cup and rubbed at his throat, where she had lay her fingers.
"You are too soft," she criticized. "Too trusting. Your body is weak and your reflexes dull. You have no ability or instinct to speak of, and your sense of danger is greatly dampened. You are in no shape to become a hunter." A pause, then, "I can help you rectify that."
Jaune, who had been visibly deflating with each verbal jab, perked up at the last line, some semblance of hope returning to despairing eyes. "Y-you can?"
"Beacon is scheduled to open for the term in a month's time," she warned. "Our time is limited and I cannot teach you all you will need to know. You will be weak, but you will be more capable than you are now. More importantly you will have a proper foundation to build from."
She held out a hand in askance, indicating to the blade at his hip. Wordlessly, he unclasped the white sheath from his belt and passed it into her waiting grasp.
She clutched the blue hilt and pulled, removing the shining steel partly from its scabbard. "It is a fine blade," she commented, eyeing her own reflection in the metal, "Old, but well cared for." Resting the blade back fully into it's place, she passed the weapon back to it's owner.
"Western swordsmanship is not my primary focus, but I am adept in the art. Should you wish it, I will instruct you."
"That's fine! I'll do it!
"My training will not be easy. Do not accept so simply. One must exercise prudence and caution in all things," she admonished. "I do not tolerate half-hearted effort."
"I'll handle it! Please, take me as your student!" The blonde was almost begging at this point. This would be the first time he'd have formal training of any kind. More so, it was the first time anyone had actually offered to teach him. He wouldn't let this chance slip through his grasp.
"Very well, Jaune Arc. We begin at dawn. I hope you are prepared."
Thus far, the gray-haired woman had exuded an air of serenity, but now it held an ominous tinge—a portent of things to come. Jaune could not help but feel a creeping sense of dread as he wondered just what was in store.
Several weeks saw Kiana's steady recovery, though she had not even been truly injured in the first place—a fact that she argued with her assigned physician at every checkup. After a week of adamant assurances that she was, in fact, fine, Kiana was finally discharged from the infirmary and unleashed upon Vale proper. Her first reaction upon seeing the academy in which she had been sequestered for a week was unmitigated awe.
The scale was massive; the school grounds could have easily encompassed a town, and the numerous spires of the school towered high, scratching at the heavens far overhead. Buildings and arches were laid out in an intricate, complicated manner, but they were by no means chaotic. Nothing had been constructed haphazardly or randomly; every structure had a set order and the design was largely symmetrical. The grounds sat atop a promontory overlooking a vast body of water, across from which Kiana could spy a city—Vale, if she were to believe what she was told. Flanking the school, a vast, verdant expanse of trees stretched on, unending.
"Quite breathtaking, is it not?" Ozpin had asked, to which she could only reply with stunned silence.
In the days to follow, Kiana soon found that she had a great excess of free time, and had taken to frequent excursions across the sound to indulge in the extravagance of the city. She had taken to Vale like a fish to water. The city had any number of marvels that she was always keen to experience. She had found the local cuisine quite palatable, and the plethora of wares and technology for sale never ceased to impress her. The Bullhead that was to ferry her across the sound was a grandiose beast, and she couldn't help but marvel at the fact that the rotund hunk of metal could glide so effortlessly through the skies. She had never seen anything like it before, though, technically, she could not recall seeing anything before. Even just the ordinary hustle-and-bustle of a major city brought a sense of calm to her heart, and she found herself easily falling into stride with daily life in Vale.
Dust, in particular, had deeply aroused her interest. It was simply far too versatile and convenient to not demand her full attention. As far as she could tell, the stuff might as well have been magic, but everyone used it like it was no big deal. As such, Kiana had spent the majority of her time prowling the rows of shelves in several of Vale's Dust dispensaries. Of course, she couldn't afford to purchase everything she wanted with the stipend Ozpin had afforded her, generous as it may have been, so the bulk of her visits were spent simply window shopping.
"From Dust Til Dawn'' was one such establishment she frequented, and by far her favorite. Though the other stores treated her juvenile curiosity with as much professionalism as would be expected, Kiana could detect the underlying current of irritation when her inquiries strayed too close to the more "basic" or "common knowledge" sort of questions. On the contrary, the elderly proprietor of Dust Til Dawn was, if anything, glad for attention. The old man clearly had love and passion for his job, and was quite eager to answer anything she asked, regardless of how mundane, or how numerous her queries became. As a result, Kiana had taken a liking to this particular shop and had consistently visited it for the several weeks since her discharge.
"Hey there, shopkeep! The one and only Kiana Kaslana has returned!" The silver-haired girl announced bombastically, flinging the door to the small dust establishment ajar.
"Hello there, young miss, good to see you in high spirits, as always," The aging man behind the counter greeted, momentarily nodding in her direction before returning his attention to the glass displays he was currently cleaning. "Just browsing today?"
Stepping in from the early-night chill that had begun to descend upon the city, she shook her head before grinning victoriously and flashing two fingers in a peace sign, "Money came in today, so I can splurge!"
"Glad to hear it. You know even an old man like me has to eat, too," He broke off into a gravelly laugh that terminated in a rheumy cough. Clearing his throat, he added a bit more seriously, "It may not be my place to say, but should a young girl like you be spending all her allowance in a dust shop? I'm sure you have better uses for the money." He broke off again to clear his throat as another wave of wet coughs forced him to catch his breath, hands propped on knees.
Kiana peered over the shelf of dust she was examining at the source of the persistent noise in concern, "Are you alright? That cough doesn't sound so good. It still hasn't gone away? Did you get a check-up like I told you to last time? Technology and dust are pretty amazing, they'd probably be able to fix you up no problem."
He huffed, dismissively waving away the barrage of questions, "Oh, it's nothing to worry the doctors over. Just a bit of a cough and a rash." He pulled down his collar slightly to reveal a network of angry, red lines at the base of his neck. Their pattern was oddly angular, like some sort of electronic interface. "When you get to be my age, it's stranger if something isn't wrong with your body. It's nothing to worry about."
Though unconvinced, Kiana let the matter drop. The old man may have looked benign, but she knew from experience that he could be as stubborn as a mule.
"Dont die on me, old-timer!" She instead jabbed playfully, her voice was still tinged with worry. "I like this place and I don't plan to stop coming here, so you gotta keep the shop open, you know." Kiana had grown fond of the old man that treated her so kindly every time she visited.
"Besides, it's not like I have anything else to buy with the money. Meals are taken care of, I don't have to pay rent and I already bought all the other stuff I needed weeks ago." Her lips turned up in a sly, conspiratorial smile, and she lowered her voice, as if confiding a great secret, "Between you and me, Ozpin's set aside a lot of money for my allowance, so I can afford to treat myself, sometimes." She raised a finger to her lips in the universal, 'it's a secret' sign.
The shopkeeper gave a small, hoarse chuckle. It was a strained, wheezing sound, more at home on a faulty engine than on a person. "Well, well, sounds like someone's lucky enough to be in the Headmaster's good graces. I don't suppose you'd be able to send some of that good luck my way? Business has been slow lately, what with all the robberies going on."
"Robberies?" Kiana distractedly mused as she compared a vial of yellow and blue dust. "I think I heard something like that on the news. They target dust shops exclusively, right?" She placed both back on the shelf, and turned to study some white dust on the rack adjacent.
He nodded in affirmation. "The entire dust industry of Vale is in a tizzy over it, and the SDC isn't letting up on our fees even after half the shops in the city have already been hit. You know what the official statement was? 'The Schnee Dust Company is no longer responsible for merchandise after it has been supplied to our vendors,' Bah!" It was a familiar gripe to Kiana. As much as the man loved his job, he seemed to harbor little love for the suppliers of his goods, though not without good reason. The Schnee Dust Company was hyper focused on productivity. If one of their vendors went under, they would simply find a replacement. Dust was lucrative, and there was no shortage of business in the major kingdoms.
"You know, I thought you were one of those Schnee girls the first time you came in here," he began.
"Yes, yes, I know. White hair and blue eyes and all that," she cut him off. This, too, was an evergreen topic that the owner never failed to mention when she visited. "And I'll say it again, old-timer, I'm a Kaslana, through and through." She kept the fact that she did not know what being a Kaslana actually entailed to herself.
"Does being a Kaslana mean you're more liable to knock over my shelves?" He prodded jokingly.
"Ah...haha…" Kiana couldn't help but laugh nervously in embarrassment. The old man never failed to bring that incident up whenever he wanted to poke fun at her. In her first visit to the shop she had been so excited that she had tripped over her own feet and sent the contents of an entire shelf onto the floor. Kiana was fairly certain she would be barred from the store, but was surprised when the old man adamantly insisted that she come again. Apparently he found her enthusiasm endearing, somehow.
She weakly defended, "Could you please just drop that already? At least most of it was salvageable, right? And I paid for the damages…" What went unsaid, was that doing so had left a quite dent in that week's stipend. She had resigned herself to packaged noodles and water for a while afterwards.
The man gave another wheezing laugh, "I'm only teasing, miss. It's water under the bridge, of course." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Though, come to think of it, that's probably where this blasted cough came from. I've had it since you first started coming here. I must have inhaled a bit of dust when I was sweeping up, and the rash is probably a side effect, or some sort of allergic reaction."
He shrugged concommitally, "Eh, call it an occupational hazard, I guess. Ah, excuse me." He turned from Kiana to ring up another customer. Young, probably one of Ozpin's students, Kiana guessed. The old man chatted amicably with the teenager as he calculated the cost for the vials of dust placed on the counter.
In the absence of conversation, Kiana returned her attention to the shelf she was perusing. She turned a vial of black dust over in her hand, holding it up to the light and admiring the fine particles as they floated within their container. Perhaps she should just bite the bullet and buy Gravity Dust in bulk. She fantasized about lining her clothes with the stuff and being able to just float from place to place. The idea appealed greatly to her for some reason, but she also really needed to replenish her stock of burn dust. Maybe she'd go half-and-half? Seventy-thirty? Maybe she could afford to put the burn dust on hold for another week and try to stretch her current reserves as much as possible.
The apartment block she had been assigned to was one of the older ones on campus, and its infrequent use meant that it was never a priority for upgrades when budget meetings came around. Or so Ozpin had sheepishly explained as they toured the rather shabby building. As a result, several of the amenities were quite lacking, having come from the previous century, at the latest. The chief example was the stove, which still relied on manual loading of burn dust to function. Kiana didn't particularly mind the inconvenience—the fact that she was being housed at all was more than she had wanted to accept. Still, it did often lead to conundrums such as the one she was internally debating at the moment.
Kiana kept up her mental back-and-forth for a while, weighing the pros and cons. Occasionally, some other colorful vial would catch her eye, and she would rehash the same debate once more, this time with an additional product added to the mix. It was a fairly standard occurrence on her shopping trips. Despite her earlier claims, Kiana wanted to be frugal with the Headmaster's funds. It still rubbed her the wrong way to accept his generosity for nothing, and the least she could do was not spend it carelessly. So engrossed in thought was she that she did not immediately register the frightened yelp of the shopkeeper at the register.
"P-please! Just take my Lien and leave!"
Kiana's first indication that something was going terribly, terribly wrong was not subtle by any means. The click of a round being chambered behind her sent a chill coursing up her spine.
"Hands up, girl. We don't wanna hurt you. We're just here for the dust." A gruff utterance accompanied the metallic sound.
A block of ice settled in her stomach. She raised both arms in the air and slowly spun to face the man holding her at gunpoint. He was a stocky, built man dressed in a crisp, black suit and red tie. A black fedora sat atop his head, and his eyes were obscured by red-tinted aviators. Black gloved hands confidently gripped the handle of a simple pistol aimed straight at her face. Simple, but still more than enough to end her then and there if she made the wrong move.
"Just stand there and don't do anything stupid," he commanded. "We're taking the dust and then we'll be on our way. Behave and you get to go home tonight."
Frightened, Kiana's racing mind took stock of the shop, even as the thug spoke. The elderly shopkeeper was hurriedly fumbling to push dust into the cases he was provided. Several other henchmen were looting the shelves and dispensers. Keeping watch over the operation was a man in a dapper, white coat. Though he joked and laughed around the smoldering cigar clenched in his teeth, the small glint of sadism in his eyes could still be discerned behind the long fringe of orange hair.
Even as Kiana's mind struggled to process all of this, pandemonium broke loose. Apparently, there had been one additional occupant in the store, and this one did not have any reservations about defending themselves. Several things happened at once. A scream echoed through the room and a goon crashed through the storefront window. He was pursued by a rush of red rose petals and, moments later, the rest of their squad.
For the briefest moment, the head of the thug holding her at gunpoint turned to follow the trajectory of his comrade, mouth slightly agape. Kiana took full advantage of the distraction, hands clumsily gripping the barrel of the gun and shoving it as far from her body as possible. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough. The man's finger instinctively squeezed the trigger in surprise, sending a roar from the mouth of the weapon.
The bullet winged her right shoulder. It was by no means a serious injury, as far as bullet wounds went, but the impact staggered her, and she could feel a warm wetness beginning to spread on her sleeve. Even so, her fingers, clamped in place by fear, remained iron-tight on the barrel. Oddly, she felt no pain from the wound, which she chalked up to the copious amounts of adrenaline raging through her vessels. In his surprised state, Kiana was able to leverage some control of the firearm from the thug, managing to slowly but surely force it further from her. Still, the thug was much larger and stockier than she was, and it was only a matter of time before he overpowered her entirely. And then she would be dead. Surely there was a way out of this losing battle?
There was. In her terrorized frenzy, Kiana almost didn't notice the abnormal wideness of the man's stance. Perhaps he had been thrown off-balance earlier and only just managed to regain his footing. The reason did not matter.
She kicked. Hard. It was a vicious blow, and surprisingly accurate, given the circumstances. She had placed as much force as her lithe frame could muster behind that strike, and she had noted, with a small amount of morbid satisfaction, the sensation of something being crushed underfoot. The thug deflated. No cry of pain or cursing. He simply dropped to the debris-strewn floor, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Kiana ripped the gun from a calloused, rough hand and swung about manically, only to find that there was no one else around her. She could see the rest of the thugs had been soundly thrashed at the storefront. A red-cloaked girl wielding a mechanical scythe that was far too large for her diminutive frame stood among a pile of unconscious bodies.
The man in white she had noted earlier, clearly the boss, stepped over the remains of the shattered panes to oppose the red girl. In his outstretched hand was a...cane? Likely some sort of firearm, Kiana deduced, even as her mind shuddered to a halt, realizing that he intended to shoot. Surely she couldn't just let that happen? Could she even stop it? What could she do?
The metal of the scrounged weapon was frigid against her flesh. Heavy and unwieldy. Lifeless and dispassionate. She raised that hunk of steel in her good hand, but found that she was trembling too violently for a clean shot. She needed to do something. She didn't want to see anyone hurt, but the doubt and terror kept her frozen to the spot, unable to take action. Her trigger-finger was heavy and sluggish, and it refused to obey her mental commands to just pull.
"Fight for all that is beautiful in this world."
The words exploded in her mind, flooding her thoughts and drowning her turmoil. It was a promise—no, it was an oath that she had made, once upon a time. To whom? She could not remember, but that did not matter. A rushing sound filled her ears, and she vaguely recognized it as her own blood, pumping furiously through her veins. She had been hyperventilating before, but now her body was wracked in great, heaving gasps. Despite the rush of air filling her lungs, her mind still screamed for oxygen. Her head pounded sharply, insistently. Once, twice, thrice, each successive throb amplifying in intensity, until it was all she could do to bite back a whimper. Still, despite the pain, despite the fear, she would do it. She was a Kaslana, through-and-through.
"So you've finally made your choice, Baby Doll. I'm proud of you."
A dam burst in her head, and the pain soared to new heights, eclipsing everything that had come before. This time, Kiana was unable to repress a scream. She shrieked to the high heavens as she was overwhelmed and golden light filled her vision.
Instinctively, Kiana thrust a hand out, and the Void rose in response.
Outside the store, Roman surveyed the damage. Junior's thugs had performed, though he wouldnt say they did so admirably. It was just a young girl, for crying out loud! Surely one of them could have done some damage. Sighing melodramatically, he raised his cane—Melodic Cudgel—horizontally. A cap the end flipped up revealing the opening of a barrel.
"I'm afraid this is where we part ways." Roman said snidely, even as he registered a scream from behind him and a flash of light.
Whistling wind, a dull thump and a wet squelch. A clatter. Melodic Cudgel fell to the ground, unfired. Its owner stared dumbly at the white spike that had erupted from his shoulder. His arm hung limply at his side, useless. A scarce moment of stunned shock passed, before white hot pain assaulted his senses and he roared in agony. He clutched at the offending object protruding from his body, only to find that it unraveled into a strange, ethereal, mass of white ribbons before fading away entirely.
"The...fuck…" Roman snarled flecks of red leaking out with the words. He whirled as much as his stricken body allowed, valiantly forcing the pain down, trying to maintain a cool head, "...did...you…do?" The spike had pierced his aura as if it hadn't even been there. In fact, he didn't even notice a change in his reserves; it was as if it had bypassed his aura entirely.
Kiana, for her part, was still uncharacteristically pale as she observed the damage she had inflicted on the man, but her face was set into a hard, determined expression. She now had the pistol leveled at the criminal in one stable, unshaking hand, while the other clutched at her head. The pounding had finally settled, but a dull, wracking throb continued to assail her senses. Though her eye was obscured, an eerie, golden glow seeped from between her fingers.
"On the ground!" She spat without a hint of hesitation. Her finger pressured the trigger. Another fraction of an inch and bullets would start flying.
Roman looked to his front. Red stood before him, absurdly large blade clutched in whitened knuckles. Roman looked to his rear. Silver stood behind him, weapon trained squarely on center-mass, finger a hair's-breadth from firing. His aura was largely intact, but he was in no shape to escape on foot. It would be a simple matter for his two adversaries to shatter his aura and take him in unwillingly.
"Don't you trainees fire warning shots" the man grumbled flippantly, even as he moved to comply.
At least, the intention was a flippant grumble. The pain of the grievous wound in his shoulder caused it to come out as a choked whine. He could barely remain steady, even as he fell to his knees and slumped over onto his good side. The spike had been narrow, but it was still enough to wreak havoc on the musculature and bone of the surrounding tissue. Hell, it may have even taken a bit out of his right lung, if the copper tang in each labored breath was any indication. It was only thanks to his aura that he was even conscious at this point, though that wouldn't be the case for much longer, if the darkness encroaching at his peripherals had anything to say about it.
"Damn...kids…messing up a...perfectly...good...heist," Was the last thing he mumbled before his vision failed entirely.
"Roman Torchwick is a notorious criminal, wanted for a bevy of crimes ranging from theft to murder." Ozpin fixed a serious stare upon the girl that sat before him, "Even so, causing such grievous bodily harm is hardly permissible, especially for a civilian. Were you aware of what you were doing at the time, Miss Kaslana?"
It was some hours later, and Kiana now found herself seated in what she could only describe as an interrogation room. Glynda had arrived on the scene shortly after the criminal had passed out. She had dealt with law enforcement, who had only just arrived minutes later, and then collected both Kiana and the scythe girl, ushering them away in a Bullhead.
Kiana shook her head numbly. "I was injured and I saw him about to shoot that girl. The shopkeep was on the ground and I couldn't tell if he was hurt or worse. I felt…" the girl faltered for a moment, "...helpless. There was a pressure in my head, like someone was trying to pry it open with an axe, and then I don't remember what happened after that."
"It is not unusual for one's semblance to manifest in the face of extreme duress," Ozpin supplied, "though admittedly, it is unusual for a semblance to cause such intense discomfort when it is used. Has this ever happened befo...Ah. Right. My apologies." He cut himself off at the deadpan glare he received.
Clearing his throat, he pressed on to a new topic, "Well, you will be glad to know that the girl is also fine. Better than fine, I daresay. She is, as the colloquial term goes, 'over the moon' about her early acceptance into a rather prestigious academy."
Kiana did actually crack a subdued smile at the small attempt at humor, though one other matter still worried her. "What about the shopkeep," she quietly asked.
Ozpin grimaced slightly. "The owner of the establishment was rushed to the hospital. The paramedics on scene had found him unconscious with labored breathing. They could not discern any bodily harm, and have attributed his condition to shock. The paramedic on site expected him to be fine after adequate rest and treatment."
He left out the slight peculiarities that had been noted: the abnormal whitening of flesh at the extremities, and the odd rash that had visibly begun to encroach further upon the man's skin. It would not do to agitate the girl further. Besides, he had utmost faith in the doctors at Vale General.
Kiana was silent for a time, likely absorbing the information and sorting out her feelings."I want to fight," the silver-haired girl finally uttered. Her bowed head shot up, a fierce glare directed straight into the ancient man's eyes. "I hate feeling this way," her hand clutched at her chest, "I could have done something to prevent this, but I just stood there, frozen, until it was too late! I won't let that happen again."
Ozpin steepled his fingers and peered at the girl over the tips. "That is an admirable sentiment, Miss Kaslana, but you are far too young and lack the requisite credentials to be considered an official Huntress of Vale. You have no prior training and, until today, have shown no indication that you are capable of combat to any degree. We can hardly permit you to take matters into your own hands." Even as he shot down her demand, an impish smile began to work its way onto his face.
Noticing the glint in his eye, Kiana snapped in irritation, "What's that look for? I can fight! I just got taken by surprise earlier, that's all!"
"It is often the moments that take us by surprise that lead to our undoing," Ozpin idly quipped. "It has only been a few weeks since you have awakened, Miss Kaslana, and I have no doubt you faced dire straits before you were put to sleep. Why are you so intent on rushing headlong into danger once more? Why not simply leave the danger to Vale's protectors?"
"Because I remembered," Kiana reflected angrily. "I made an oath to someone important to me. 'Fight for all that is beautiful in this world,'" she recited. Her glare held, even as Ozpin's face remained unreadable. "Clearly, I must have failed back then. Why else would I even be here? I don't know this new world, and I haven't been here very long, but this is the only place I can call 'home.' I won't sit by when people like that threaten my new home, even if I have to go against your word to do it!"
She certainly had spunk, if nothing else.
"Be that as it may, there are a whole host of problems with simply allowing you to do as you please. To begin with, are you even capable of replicating the feat you performed earlier tonight? Forgive me for saying this, but if you have no true means of defending yourself, you will not make it very far as a vigilante."
Scowling, Kiana raised her hand, palm turned downward, as if to grasp a hilt that did not yet exist. She reached into the recesses of her mind, trying to pinpoint that golden light that had blinded her earlier in the night. It was locked up again, restrained behind the blockade that sealed her memories. Even as she dredged the very depths of her consciousness for the slightest flicker, she already knew it was pointless. She held the pose for a few seconds, but finally conceded. "I can't," she sighed, outstretched arm falling limply to her side. "So that's it then? You won't let me fight?
"I never said that."
"Huh?"
"I only said that you were not qualified to be a registered Huntress, but such things can be remedied with time and proper instruction. You have shown me a pure and dutiful heart, and a strong sense of justice. You willingly risk your own safety if it means the wellbeing of others. These are all qualities of a fine Huntress."
Kiana flushed at the unexpected praise, but snapped, "What are you trying to say, old man?"
Ozpin ignored the question. "It will be the second time I make this offer tonight. I imagine Glynda will give me quite a headache about not following proper protocol later." His expression soured ever so slightly as he imagined the lecture to come. "You cannot be a Huntress. Not yet. But, you can be a huntress-in-training. Perhaps at Beacon? It just so happens that I am rather well acquainted with Admissions there, and I hear that the Headmaster is quite the capable gentleman." The sly, subdued grin had returned.
"It would take time, but you would be able to obtain all of the required credentials to properly become a protector of Vale."
Kiana rubbed her forehead in agitation. How had they gotten to the topic of her attending school of all things? She may not remember much, but she definitely remembered how much she abhorred wasting away in a lecture hall.
"For some reason this all feels vaguely familiar," she mumbled. "I can't say I'm excited about being a student. You sure this is the only way? It feels like it could take a while."
"If you wish to go through the proper channels, which I urge in the strongest possible terms, then yes. There is no rush, Miss Kaslana. Vale will still be standing when you graduate. Have some faith in the Hunters and Huntresses that protect us all until then."
It did not take long for her to decide. If she wanted to protect people, then there was nothing to consider, really.
"Alright, old man, I'll do it. I'll show you just what a Kaslana can do when she puts her mind to it!"
The small grin widened into a full blown smile, "That is exactly what I wished to hear, Miss Kaslana. Beacon is glad to have you."
"I'm not giving up my apartment to go live in the dorms," Kiana flatly rebuked.
A subdued chuckle was her only response.
This chapter was supposed to be twice as long, but I didn't want to have to proof 20k+ words, so I spliced it. Next chapter should be up soon, hopefully.
Some people have brought up conflicting timelines, and they are valid questions. Truthfully, I just wanted to write a story about Fu Hua and friends beating dudes down in Remnant. I didn't intend to write more than just a oneshot at first, but here we are now. Thankfully HoS and HoR are kind of cheat codes when it comes to plotholes. Always remember the cardinal rule: When in doubt about how or why something exists in this timeline, Bronya made it.
