Ruby woke to Qrow's gentle push, the memories of training with her dead mother already passing into nothing, although the teachings did not. Qrow was already dressed, wearing a suit that he certainly did not have on him when he'd come the night before. He was shaven, and did not reek of alcohol for once.

"Wake up, squirt."

Ruby groaned, and a few minutes later she joined Qrow. Half an hour later they were at a cemetery of unknown Hunters. A place where those with no names or no other resting place were buried, generally with little pomp and circumstance. A grave overflowing with Hunters that no one other than Ozpin would ever remember, serving what they believed to be a just cause headed by a just man.

"We're gathered here today to honor the death of.."

The priest frowned, gulping. This was the second time in the last few months that he'd screwed up a funeral, and forgetting the name of a dead Hunter was an inexcusable blunder. Qrow called out his name after looking at his scroll, as he too, had forgotten it. The priest nodded gratefully, mentioning the name before continuing.

"We give thanks to the gods for the life he spent, and ask that he spend the rest of his existence in their all consuming splendor. But for the rest of us still bound to this earth, the remnants of what have long passed, we will be forever affected by his time with us. He died bravely, protecting another." The priest said, repeating the lie that Ozpin had given him. Why Ozpin had felt the need to spread such information, when the only other person that knew of the events made up half the audience, is unknown and likely derives from a foolish naivety the fake immortal had.

"...a paragon of self sacrifice." The priest finished. Whatever other information Ozpin had told him, or were in his notes, he'd completely forgotten, leading to a service that lasted no more than two minutes.

Qrow helped Father McKenzie lower an empty casket into the ground and shovel dirt on top of it, Ruby watching all the while. She felt bad for the Hunter who will not be named, but better about the fact that she'd been there to see the casket laid to rest, along with hopefully, his spirit. As across culture and time, this is the one vain hope of the living— that those of the dead will rest in abyssal peace. As one day they too will join their ranks, with the only fate worse than hell being trapped as a spirit, unseen and disowned by the world they once knew.

The despair the young girl would have if she saw the spirits hanging around the grave would crush any thoughts of heroism. For at each grave— marked or otherwise— a spirit hung there, unfulfilled with their life after realizing the pointlessness of their endeavor and sacrifice. Only in death were they given the necessary perspective to see such the trap that had consumed them.

After many apologies and minutes, the burial was done and the priest waved to the uncle and his niece. An awkward and sad encounter that no one would ever know about. One that the young reaper would never consciously remember, despite her core ideals hinging on such a quick and spontaneous meeting.

"Did he die saving you?" Ruby asked. It was such a pleasant autumn day that one might feel an act of spite towards the unnamed Hunter from those above.

Qrow didn't answer at first, but finally responded with, "Yeah. He did."

"Why didn't the priest remember his name?"

"Could be his semblance. I always had a hard time remembering it."

Ruby nodded. "Did you take his cross?"

"His— yeah, why?" Qrow asked, glancing down at the necklace.

"You didn't have it before yesterday."

They walked in silence.

"You know, I never talked to you about... her funeral." Qrow said, taking the opportunity to confess.

"Mom's?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for not showing up." Qrow said, kneeling down to look directly at Ruby.

"I think mom's fine with it. She'd understand."

"That's the worst part. She probably would. Even if it was her own funeral, and no one showed up, she'd be fine. But it's like with him—" He said, pointing off to the unnamed Hunter's grave. "It'd be sad if no one did show up. Feels wrong."

Ruby nodded. That was the reason she'd came, after all.

"Mom wasn't alone. Me, dad, and Yang were there. And I'll show up to your funeral too, Uncle Qrow. Yang will too."

The thought had never occurred to him, not really. But the fact that someone would be there made his heart a little easier. He scratched her head. "I'll never die, kiddo."

Ruby smiled at that, one of the few genuine ones she had. "Me neither."

"Thanks again for coming."

"It'd be sad if I didn't." Ruby answered the non-question.

"Yeah. Anyway, I was wondering... do you want me to teach you some self defense? Grimm and human?"

"Nope."

Even Ruby was surprised by her response, but Qrow even more so.

"Are you sure? I really think—"

"Nope."

Once again, Ruby's mouth had betrayed her.

"How about your dad? I'm sure he'd love to teach you if you don't want me to." Qrow said, trying to keep his cool.

"Hmm... nope."

"Why?"

Ruby shrugged. "Dunno."

"You gotta give me a better answer than that."

If Qrow were to look in the drawer of Taiyang's nightstand, he might find the very answer he was looking for. For Summer no longer trusted Qrow, and while her training in combat might have devolved into muscle memory that would one day save her life, her teaching did not.

"I don't want to."

Ruby sat on the ground, getting dirt on her pants— she'd lost her black funeral clothes in the fire— throwing a tantrum.

"That's not a reason." Qrow pointed out.

"It is a reason."

"It's not a reason!" Qrow said a little too loudly. No one except the priest heard him, the few birds that remained chirping despite the outburst. He stepped away from Ruby for a moment, staring at the grave of Hunters.

"I thought you wanted to become a Huntress." Qrow said, recalling her words from not two days before and turning back to see her lying on her back and staring at the sky.

"I do. I just don't want you or dad to train me."

"And Hunters need to be able to fight, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So what's wrong with me or your dad training you?"

"Because I don't want you to." Ruby said firmly.

Unfortunately for Qrow, he'd become substantially less childish in the last several months and couldn't point out the rather confusing argument Ruby was making.

"So would someone from Signal or Beacon be fine?" Qrow asked, more curious than anything now.

"No."

"So you want to be a hero, and you know that heroes need to fight, but you don't want anyone to train you how to fight?"

"No, I just don't want you, dad, or anyone at Signal or Beacon to teach me. Are you okay, Uncle Qrow?"

At this point, Qrow was questioning his sanity.

"So then who do you want to teach you?"

"No one. I'll figure it out."

It was an awkward 25 minute walk back for Qrow. For Ruby, she was just confused by his questioning and thought little of the interaction. And for elucidation and perhaps for an alleviation of a not insubstantial amount of dramatic irony, allow us to go back 8 hours and enter the mind of the young, misguided, fledgling Hunter.

There was no wind in the frozen tundra of this dream land of endless white speckled with black trees that had to be dead. A white smudged with red, a spectre that wore a cloak of red and white that embodied her love and hate for humanity.

In Ruby's dream state, she could not possibly know the identity of the spectre that haunted her. Only that despite the spectres ominous and deathly aura, around her, she was safe. The irony of this should not be lost on anyone.

The spectre wished to speak, but found no voice. Even after controlling the setting of the dream, the young girl's will was immense enough to stop further tampering.

"Hi." Ruby said, giving a wave to the dead woman she should have known. The spectre did not wave back, instead tossing Petal to the ground in front of her. When Ruby looked up, the spectre was nowhere to be seen. She was in a valley of pure white, contrasted only by the black of the trees at the edge of the clearing and the black of the sky.

She picked up Petal, turning it this way and that. Somewhere in her memories, she realized that this Petal was not the one she knew, the one that had been repaired after enduring rust and time. This was Petal immediately after its creation, shiny and new, perfect and flawless as Summer had designed it. And yet for the dead Huntress, it wasn't quite perfect, forcing her to search ever onwards for her destined weapon.

But for her daughter, the surrogate hero which Ozpin had been searching for under different pretenses than he would divulge, it was almost an exact replica. Light and deadly, it was ideal for her build and her personality. But it lacked the flair she herself would gain, the uniqueness that would mark her creations as genius.

The beowolf that was cut in half should be an indication of both her reflexes and lack of regard for self preservation, as without warning it launched itself at her, and instead of dodging and retaliating, simply stood still, angled the scythe downwards, and cut it into two parts that went to either side of her.

It's simply not possible for a human eight year old to respond so finely and cooly to death, but Ruby was cursed with that which Ozpin both feared and required— the bloodline of warriors. Blood that gave her the wherewithal and lack of self preservation needed to become a cold-blooded Hunter.

While superhuman, her lack of experience was an issue she couldn't help to fix, suddenly face down in the snow as a white and red beowulf tore at the back of her neck as the voracious and killer animal that it was. She felt herself lose consciousness in the dream, only to find herself standing once again in front of the spectre. One that she couldn't see the face of, no matter how much she tried.

"TRUST NO ONE OTHER THAN ME." The shade said, her words echoing all around and inside Ruby. Such a simple demand from a trusted source was taken as fact. And while her memory of that one line would be forgotten upon waking, its essence would not.

For what felt like hours, Ruby battled the imaginary beowolves, in a cycle of death, combat, and resurrection. Every time she died she was once again told, "TRUST NO ONE OTHER THAN ME", resurrected, and forced to fight the endless stream of beowolves.

Such a dream would be taken as a nightmare by those that lacked silver eyes, but for one such as Ruby, with the correct blood and drive, she felt only elation at both the destruction of the Grimm she had sworn to destroy, and the fact that she would be able to carry out this will until the end of time— as her resolve would never waver.

Summer looked upon sadly from her place of nothingness and everywhereness in the dream. Placing and aiding her daughter on the same track that she had tread as her forefathers had, only to lead Ruby to a grave already dug for her.

But if that was truly what Ruby wished... she would ensure that she was the best damned Hunter that had ever lived, even if it meant losing the vital thing that made one human, fear of death itself.

A/N: Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, or have criticism, feel free to let me know in a review or PM. It's very motivating to know that people care about something I wrote.