Chapter 2 - Welcome to Canon
He stands in the doorway for a moment, which is useful because I really need that to collect myself. I slam my mouth shut and look at him properly. He's an oxymoron. An odd blend of young and old, weakness and strength. He stands in front of me in his familiar green suit, cane in hand and walks closer to the bed I am stranded in. It's a little surprising he's coffee-less at present.
"H-hello. My name is Slate." He smiles, "I know, I came here to ask you a few questions and to check in on you. Awakening one's Aura can be quite the strain on one so young" He paused to glance at me, I nod in reply. "The books I've read say similar stuff… Why are you here personally? You're- You look important." The definition of smooth in the dictionary has my picture beside it.
"I'm the Headmaster of Beacon Academy, and somewhat of an interested party when it comes to new developments in the Grimm slaying field." He glosses past my slip, "And cases of people awakening their own Aura are fairly rare, especially in someone as young as yourself." I nod in acknowledgement, this too I had read about. "We only know a little about your case, indeed as I'm sure your mother will attest the presence of Aura about you was quite the shock to the staff here." Mum nods along at his words, "It's true, apparently it'll save us quite a bit in hospital bills…" Damn bills. I've probably cost us a fortune just by being here.
Ozpin coughs lightly to draw our attention back to him, "If I may ask, what events led to your soul's awakening?" It's quite a personal question but Ozpin has this aura of command and I answer without even really thinking. "I decided to live. And to make a difference. There is good I can do for this world and I wasn't going to let a Grimm keep that future from me… I realised who I was. And my aura responded." Which was apparently pretty common for self-unlocked aura. It's your soul, a reflection of you, and as such you need to understand yourself before it will unlock on its own.
"Ah." Ozpin responds, "Indeed your case is similar to a few others I have seen over the years… Usually in older civilians who have had more time to reflect on themselves but not unheard of in children." He pauses to glance at me and look me over.
"Your Aura will likely continue to be a bit of drain on you until you gain some measure of control over it. I imagine given your father's profession you'll be able to learn from him?" He addressed the question to me, but Mum beats me to the answer, "Orion is out on missions a lot," She winces a little, "And with the bills we'll get from this visit I doubt he'll be home much in any great lengths any time soon." Ozpin pauses and seems to assess me for a moment, "Then perhaps I may be of some assistance, an old associate of mine is moving back to Vale for his retirement, but I think he could be convinced to take on an apprentice."
I furrowed my brow… Me, myself and I don't remember any old retiring huntsmen from lore. "As in begin training properly? And who would be training me?" he eyes me for a moment longer, "His name is Heron Winchester. He can be strict and demanding, but he is fair. And a great huntsman." I disappear into my own thoughts for a bit; Winchester, Cardin. Low-tier antagonist in earlier episodes. Is this his Father? Uncle? Hopefully a little different to the bully from the show… I come back to reality to half a sentence.
"-would be best to have a professional on hand." Mum finishes. "Then I shall have Mr Winchester visit you at your home within the week, given my measure of your son's spirit so far I imagine he will be out of the hospital before then," Ozpin finishes with a smile. "We cannot thank you enough," is my Mum's immediate reply and with a nod Ozpin steps from the room; I can't blame him for the flying visit, he seems remarkably busy as a person.
My Mum's firm gaze swings from the closing door back to me. "Now don't think this means I want you running into danger young man! You train with Mr Winchester for safety and to improve not to seek out problems!" Now that brought a wince out from me, "I… Can't promise that Mum," she goes to reply and I cut her off, "I'm Dad's son with your morals; I'm going to be a Huntsman, and I'm going to help people!" I finish with what I hope is a smile of determination but feels suspiciously like a pout. Her eyes soften and she ruffles my hair, "I know Slate. A part of me wishes I didn't, that you'd want something safer like a baker," she sighs, "But you've always been focused, and after you and your father came to terms I knew it was only a matter of time. Every little boy and girl dreams of the life of a Hunter but I think you actually have the drive and strength to do it." She tries for a comforting smile that barely masks the pain below it, "I know I can't stop you, so I won't try but… Just be careful?" I latch onto her in a hug (mostly so she can't see my own watery eyes), "I will. And besides," I keep her in an extended hug but pull back, "I overthink everything, so you know this isn't spur of the moment. Our world is dangerous, and I can do something about that. I can help; so I must." This resolute expression of determination feels more successful than the previous pout.
After a little more talk and a few yawns Mum leaves me to a nap I feel entitled to, and I drift off with questions of what Heron Winchester will be like.
A dick. He is a dick. I'm currently halfway up a steep hill with a backpack thrice the size of me full of camping equipment whilst Heron jogs on ahead. "Hurry up slow poke! We're only halfway there and it's nearing dusk! I agreed to train a Huntsman apprentice not a pansy that can't handle a simple trek through the woods!" he calls back to me. A reassessment is required. He is a colossal dick and the distinction is necessary.
We had been introduced a month or two prior after I was allowed out of the hospital, Dad had heard of him and as mutual Huntsmen I think they got on by default. Mum just liked how boisterous he was. Heron Winchester is six foot of muscle with greying auburn hair and one of the fanciest twirled moustaches imaginable. His general build and countenance somewhere between Major Armstrong and a bulldog. His chosen outfit seems somewhat like 1800s nobility with maroon as a base colour and gold accenting. The large twin axes hanging at his waist and flashy outfit clear indicators he's a Huntsman.
We started with sessions on aura control within the confines of the house where I did simple things like channelling my aura so it was visible, it's not often actually needed outside of perhaps identification in times of illusion semblance shenanigans but it is an effective way of getting a feel for your aura and being able to visually see how it is being manipulated. This grey colouring would become a familiar staple in my day to day as keeping it powered both helped it grow and stabilise.
Next on Heron's teaching agenda was reactive shielding, essentially your aura's default mode. It springs up in defence of threats but can do so more reliably with experience, so he took to throwing rocks at me. Rocks hurt; aura stops rocks. Or it would if he had stopped throwing so many, so quickly and so unpredictably. "Come on Slate, you dodged beowolf claws rocks should be easy for a man of your calibre!" suddenly I am granted another flash of what I'd lived before, "If you can dodge a wrench you can dodge a ball." So. Could be worse.
Finally, before I was released outside Heron showed me the basics of actively expressing aura. "We use it everyday and only an idiot thinks of it just a forcefield. It's our soul brought external, tangible. Bu pushing it in different directions we can allow our senses greater reach, we can overclock our bodies or even generate shockwaves capable of blowing the head clean of a Grimm at ten paces." He'd explained, "It all comes down to how you guide it, direct that flowing river out of you and into something and boom. Slow it and allow the ripples to leak out of you and the returning echoes tell you exactly where your foes are. I won't explain more though short stack, it's a right of passage figuring this all out!"
All this leading back to my uphill trek gives a vague idea what I've been up to. A basic grasp of how to do a lot with no actual experience in the field so we've taken time outside of Ochreton to fix that. Or a Man-Up excursion as Heron call is. And it is Heron not Mr Winchester; he is not big on formality. Reaching the top as we settle properly into dusk I am greeted by the sight of him lounging in front of a firepit lit, the flames lighting up the surrounding clearing in the small copse of trees. "You made it! Good. Set up our tents and I'll crack out the chow." And I did so. Without compla- With only mild grumbling. Sitting down and grabbing a tin of heated rations from him I tuck in and ask a question through my mouthful of food that had been on my mind, "So, why are we out here at all? We could practice exploding stuff from the comfort of home." The immediate smile in return deadens my soul a little more, "That's exactly the reason! Comfort! Humans as a species grow through stress, through trial and effort and turmoil. You aren't going to get that in the warmth of home. Honestly it makes me glad you unlocked your aura how you did; I may be capable of unlocking aura in others but unlocking it yourself just adds…" He trails off so I butt in, "Clarity?" "Yes, exactly that! I can show you where your aura is and teach you how to wield it, but it means nothing to you if I unlocked it. It just exists. But to you Slate, who unlocked it through self-discovery… What is aura?" I pause for a moment and think, "It's me. It's my hopes and dreams and plans all given form. A future to fight for and with." He smiles in response, "And because it means so much more to you it will be so much stronger." It's the fact of aura in the end, the way they are coloured differently, and patterned differently isn't an accident. Aura is unique. "What is your mantra Heron? Even if you don't like unlocking aura you must have one." He leans back and sighs, "I do. It is through courage that we reach the pinnacle of heroism. With this we become paragons of virtue and protection with the strength to protect all. Ever growing, and ever kind. I release your soul and by my hand, guide you." It's suitably poetic, "A lot of protection synonyms in there." I think my smile is audible because he throws a pebble at me, not hard enough to mean it. "Indeed there are. It means the most to me. Have you begun thinking up yours?" And the only answer I have is not yet. There is more small talk and aura flaring but we eventually pack up and call it a night, this close to Ochreton Grimm presence is minimal and most camping setups come with proximity alarms which Heron took the liberty of assembling. I'm still tense but sleep does eventually come.
The next few days are a flurry of combat instruction, more hiking and more talking. A solid blur of "We stand side on when fighting with blades, keeps your profile minimal and therefore gives your enemy less to hit. Yes you'll fight Grimm but you'll also be fighting people." Or slightly more aggressive "Keep your guard up and elbows down, smaller presence. Step back as I move forwards and vice versa." I am the first to admit that I am decent but not incredible with blades. I don't think I'll ever be matching Pyrrha Nikos in a fight with them, my fists and guns however I am not bad with. I may have surprised Heron with a sucker punch and a leg sweep when he told me to come at him. Admittedly this meant he knew I could throw a punch afterwards and so I haven't landed any others out of his sheer skill and spite, but my form is improving! Guns were the funniest. He had handed me a test pistol, close to an airsoft one from my old life. It was like meeting an old friend. "My first shot was a metre wide of the target and just as Heron began to lecture me, "See, not as easy as it-" I fired off three more, two within the second from the middle ring and the third dead on, "-excuse me what. Do that again." So, I did. And we later moved on to moving targets, then smaller and further away targets. "Okay," said Heron, "This. This I can work with."
Once again we were sat at the fire, this would be our last night out here before returning home for the time being. "So," Heron starts, "Have you made your decision yet, on what weapon you'll progress with? A Huntsman weapon is a big part of his life, so you'll need to design and build yours soon." Some contemplation from me had already gone into this so after some thought I put forward, "Does it have to be one? I am strongest with pistols, my fists a useful against humans but weak against Grimm second, then swords third followed by basically everything else we tested. I think a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other would work well." Heron's head bobs side to side assessing my idea, "Could work. We would need to train you up in both sufficiently, and in both hands. No Apprentice of mine can't swap his sword hand." We discussed weapon ideas all evening and for much of the morning trek back, this time the weight of the pack and the steepness of the hill all but forgotten.