"It's about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body."

Ever since I was a little kid, I had always wanted to be something more than just a farmer. I always knew that he was going to do more than that. However, I never really wanted to be a huntsman, much less the most experienced huntsman on the entire planet. I, most of all, dreamed of a happy life surrounded by love and doing the things I love. What that exactly was, I had no idea yet. I had always been a dreamer, even if they were only just that - dreams.

Most of the time, I couldn't remember the dreams he had at night. Sometimes he would be the hero in an epic fairy tale, saving the damsel and winning the hearts of men and women alike. A dream I remember in the morning is few and far between, let alone his dreams of being a hero in my own story. Granted, they always were imaginative and fun, but the fact simply was that they were not my cup of tea. The adventures would be always be great in my dreams, but I'd either wake up before being able to see the end of the dream or I wouldn't know what to do after I had saved the world. To be fair, what exactly are you supposed to do after you've found your true love and happily ever after? And do heroes do good things in order to get the fame and acclaim synonymous with being a hero, or is it the good works of a hero that make them heroes in the first place? I didn't know the answers to these questions, but I also knew that he didn't want to be a hunter because of it. Not everyone has to be a hunter or a huntress. In my opinion, you don't need to be the hero to be a hero. Sometimes the most heroic thing to do is to step back and let others who are better suited for leading be the big, important heroes. Plus, if I can be the author of his story, why would I need or want to be the hero too? Another reason I am not particularly fond of adventure and fantastic dreams was the fact that they more often than not involved a war of some kind.

I can't stand watching people get hurt in general. I always wince or look away even whenever I just cut his finger doing his chores for the day or something stupid like that. It's kind of pathetic, actually. Whenever I would see my short, little mother struggling to lift even one of the bales of hay or whenever she was upset about anything, I would rush to her side. Seeing her in pain or in need, just makes me feel like I need to help. In fact, I didn't help, I probably would feel pretty guilty. More often than not, I would end up being so focused on helping my mom that I would end up dropping the pitchfork he had previously been using clumsily on his foot, or even accidentally stepping in a pale of water and soaking both my shoes and my socks in the process. I'm a pretty clumsy person, and it's just bound to happen. When I get focused, I get a really bad case of tunnel vision, and I swear that I get even clumsier somehow. Blushing shyly, I would then have to clean up whatever mess I had just made. It happens so often, I've come to expect the unexpected now. Still, seeing my clumsy but loving attempt to help her would always make my mom smile or laugh despite herself. Part of not wanting to see anyone hurt meant that I try my very best everyday to keep that from happening by cheering up and helping anyone who needed it. That's not saying much, though since the farm seemed like it was an eternity away from an actually big city or somewhere like Atlas or Beacon Academy. For someone who never wanted to be a hero in the spotlight, a lot of people around me said that I sure lit up the world and made the lives of the few people around me so much better.

Every morning, I usually was up before dawn so that I could watch the picturesque view of the sunrise as it enveloped everything in sight before getting ready to do my chores. I would wake up and quickly -but carefully- run out of his room, down the ladder, and shove the door of the barn aside with enthusiasm. Some days I would try to get as many of them done as possible before my mom called me in for my regular breakfast: scrambled eggs, a blueberry muffin, strawberries, two thick slices of ham, and a glass of milk. What can I say, another thing that I really like is order. I always have the same breakfast, always do my chores everyday, and then I always do my homeschooling with my mother. It might be boring to some people, but it's what I love. Other days when there was a particularly stunning sunrise, I would take my milk outside and just take in the gorgeous scenery around me for a while. Once all of the pinks, golds, and oranges in the sky faded away or I was done gazing at the memorizing and transfixing sunrise, I would eat the rest of breakfast. Whichever order it was or whichever day, I have always loved watching the sunrise, but I always had to get back to his reality and start working after the blue sky replaced it.

That particular day was different, however. On that particular day, the birds were chirping melodically, and the warmth and beauty of the sunrise had already come and gone, but I was still fast asleep. The world came alive just beyond my window sill, and yet my breathing was still steady and slow and I was still curled up cozily in my bed. A smile was on my serenely closed face, and it was illuminated by the light shining in from my window. Not only did I miss the sunrise, which I rarely did but I was having a dream about being a hero. Only, it wasn't myself being the was someone else saving the princess, saving the town, getting into fights with villains, and one by one defeating them. Since I didn't have to fight myself, I was able to at least enjoy the dream a little more. It was almost as if I was watching a movie or reading about what he was seeing in his book, rather than it being simply a dream. The whole world in his dreams was so vivid and crisp, and I had never had a dream quite like it before in my entire life. Every color seemed to be in technicolor and everything seemed as if it was almost real.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that it was not only someone I had never met before being the hero in my dream, but I had never been to this place before, either. The dream had started off so weirdly, and I couldn't make out exactly where he was or what was happening. I tried to, but the perfectly clear vision I had moments ago seemed to blur and fade right before my eyes. When I could finally recognize where I was in my dream, I could only do so because I had seen pictures of it in my books. I hadn't seen the pictures in a while, but I remembered that my mother had shown me it back when she thought I might want to be a huntsman. What looked like Beacon Academy loomed above me and kids training to be hunters and huntresses gave good mornings to me as I passed. The strange hero of the dream walked through the grounds of the ginormous school until he came to the main entrance of the building. At the door, he held the door for a few kids behind him before walking inside himself.

Mrs. Pine looked out the window of the simple farm house and scanned the area for her son. Since he always watched the sunrise, he would usually already be either over to the farmhouse or doing his chores. When she couldn't find him, she pouted a little and figured that he was still asleep. It had been a long while since he had last slept in. She couldn't be sure if he was sick or just sleeping in, but it was probably best to wake him up anyway. After all, there was work to be done and lesson for him to learn after he was done with his chores. She sighed and glanced back at the ingredients she had just gotten out to start making breakfast with. She decided that breakfast could wait and walked out of the room and out of the farm house.

She paused when she got outside, smiled and took in the beautiful morning for a second before continuing to Oscar's little barn. Oscar used to live in the farm house with his mom and dad when he was younger, but for his thirteenth birthday the parents gave him the little barn that they hadn't used in a while. It wasn't much, but in the mom's opinion, a boy needs his own space. Still, she was a bit worried and missed having him around in the house for the first few months. She still felt that way sometimes, even if Oscar was already fourteen now.

Mrs. Pine walked up to the barn door and it took a little effort to shove the old door to the side and get in, but she did it. While passing the hay and the old sink that needed to be replaced or fixed in order to get to the ladder, Mrs. Pine had a wonderful idea and came up with a plan. It had been a long time since she had to last wake up her son, so she didn't really have the opportunity to do that anymore. She used to do what she was thinking of when Oscar was younger, since he overslept a lot when he was a small child. The mom smiled to herself and tried to be as quiet as she possibly could. If she was too loud, Oscar would wake up and her little scheme would be ruined. She carefully and quietly made her way up the ladder. The old wood creaked anyway, but at least she tried.

When Mrs. Pine made it up, she paused at the doorway. She couldn't help but smile when she saw her adorable little boy. He was curled up in the bed, nestled in his patched up blanket, and Mrs. Pine could hear his calm, steady breathing. His beautiful dark hair was a mess from shifting around in his sleep during the night, but the soft light from the window lit up his face and hair and managed to make even his messy hair look nice. As she gazed at Oscar, the boy rolled a bit and softly snored a little. The mother couldn't understand how big he had gotten. He was her little baby boy, after all. Now, he was old enough to have his own room and do work around the farm, not just cleaning up around the house or helping his mother with the cooking. It seemed like yesterday to her when they had baked a chocolate cake for his fifth birthday, or when she would watch Oscar and his father read bedtime stories together. It was almost as if every time Mrs. Pine turned around Oscar had grown another inch. He was shortish for his age, but then again Oscar's father was too before he had a growth spurt. It didn't seem that long ago since Oscar was even learning his first words or taking his first steps. It wasn't an eternity ago when she would tickle him to get him to wake up laughing back in the farm house.

A menacing smile became plastered on the woman's freckled face as she remembered what she was going to do. She positioned herself for the perfect attack. Unfortunately for Oscar, this wasn't Mrs. Pine's first rodeo. She was his mother after all, and she knew all of his most ticklish spots: his toes, underneath his chin, and especially underneath his armpits. Clearly, she had the advantage in the situation. The mother got ready to pounce on her prey and specifically targeted her victim where he was weak. Whether it was fair or not, she didn't care, and she attacked anyway.

I awoke immediately in pain. It was agonizing. For the first few seconds of being awake I simply panicked, not realizing what was going on. I wasn't sure who or what it was that caused my pain, and it scared me so, so much. I saw my mother standing over me, and started laughing. I couldn't understand exactly why I had started laughing so hard. When I felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh and squirm away from her, I realized what was going on. Still, I couldn't do anything to stop either the onslaught of never-ending tickles or his his hysterical laughter. That doesn't mean I didn't try though. I waved my arms around and tried to squirm away from her grasp, but it was no use.

When she saw that her sweet little Oscar was clearly awake, one would think that Mrs. Pine would have stopped tickling her son. However, one clearly does not know Mrs. Pine very well. Instead of letting me go, she did the opposite. When I woke up, she just tickled me even more. I wished she would stop. She was laughing and having fun though, and I couldn't stop her anyway really.

I thrashed around the bed unable to stop my hysterical laughter, Mom's laughter, or the attack. At this point, I had started crying too, even though it had only been a minute or two since the attack started. I'm not sure if I've said this before, but I'm not the most brave or manly teenage boy in the world. When I was asleep, I was already tangled in the blanket, and all of the moving around didn't help much either. In fact, I only got somehow even more tangled in the homemade blanket. My eyes shut, and my sides hurt from the attack and from laughing so hard. The pain, even though it was not truly real pain, was excruciating. At least, I thought it was. As I rolled around the bed, both me and my mother didn't notice how close I was to the edge of the bed. With a loud thud, I fell off the bed and found myself on the floor instead. In the fall, I had taken the blanket with me, and my pillow had been kicked across the room some time ago. Just wonderful. I struggled to get out of the blankets for a bit, but eventually untangled myself from it's grasp.

Thankfully, I didn't bump my head or anything when I fell, though I was still recovering from the early morning tickle attack. I blinked. Whatever I expected to happen that morning, wasn't that.

"Mornin', Sunshine!" Mom laughed before smiling and offering me her hand quickly.

Instead of taking her hand immediately, I winced, still suspecting she might tickle me even more. However, when I saw a worried expression on my mother's face at this, I figured she was done and took her hand. I figured that would calm her nerves, but she only seemed to get more worried.

"H-how much does it hurt on a scale from one to ten?!" she started, completely misjudging the situation and jumping to conclusions. She had a tendency to do that a lot. After all, she is my mother, and wincing is never a good sign in general. In retrospect, I probably should have been more careful about not worrying her. She always was the kind of person would make jokes and laugh, but the second anyone got hurt she would be overly worried. She, like me, couldn't stand to see anyone hurt. I guess it's true that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. "Should I call the doctor? Did you hit your head? Hold up a finger for yes, two fo..." she trailed off when she looked at my face.

I sighed and was shaking his head, smiling. "I'm fine, Mom,"I laughed. "Just waking up."

Mom let a sigh of relief escape her as she helped me up from the floor. When I was standing up, I was still tangled in the blanket she had sewn for me a few years ago when I outgrew my old one. She helped me get out of it before pulling me into an embrace even warmer than the blanket. I was a little caught offgaurd, but it was nice. As we hugged, we both could feel how much they cared about each other. She smiled and ran her fingers through my black bedhead of hair. In her arms, I returned the hug and smiled as I closed my eyes gently.

"I was worried."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I know," I smiled.

I knew that his morning had started off in a way he didn't expect, but what I didn't know was that the morning was the last before I lost my freedom. I didn't know that my entire life would be so vastly different in just one day, and I didn't expect to be taken away from my beloved mother so soon. I didn't know that this would be the last day I would ever have my thoughts to myself, or be my own person. Well, maybe that's not quite true either.

Hi! Thank you so much for reading this! This is the second time I'm doing this, but it's still my first fanfiction. The first time I uploaded the first draft of this very late at night without proofreading or realizing most of it was wrong anyway. And when I drew the cover photo, it was aligned normally and everything, but I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. If anyone knows and will tell me, that would be great. Hopefully you liked the Prologue and want to see more of this story. I really have a ton of amazing ideas for where this will go, and I can't wait until I will be able to tell you about it! I especially love how I've imagined the mechanics of Oscar and Ozpin's situation. I also eventually have plans to go to where the show currently is at. EVENTUALLY. I'm not a hundred percent sure if I am going to involve Oscar or anyone else in ships quite yet, but I might. I can get to that when it comes up. I'm going to post once a week, and I promise that if I don't, you can...be mad at me? I'm not sure. Thanks again for reading my story! You're amazing! Speaking of...ahhhh! Oscar is such a sweetheart and must be protected! Still, we get more of just Oscar being Oscar in the actual first chapter of the story. Since this is going to be following and adding to the cannon for the most part, we are starting with Volume 4 Chapter 1 and when Oscar first hears Ozpin. See you next week! - UnitedPikachu