Like I said, two chapters. Tomorrow or today i will put out the first chapter of FloriteFlower and I's collaboration. For now though, let's patch up everything in Shimitani.
Yorm was back on a BullHead to Shimitani just a week and a half after he was sent to Beacon. Thanks to their AuraTherapy chambers, he was able to heal remarkably fast and recover his aura as well. During the time he had opted to stay in JNPR's room when they invited him. It was better than the medical bay in any case.
He had talked to them all, especially Jaune, and got to know them better. The Headmaster, Ozpin he was called, had given him a scroll in case he ever wanted to contact any of them. His shell created by Vlad's death was forced to crumble when surrounded by people as positive as JNPR and RWBY. He still stared at the axe sometimes after he trained. It still brought back painful memories, but it was time to let go.
That was his first mission when he returned home. To honor his last wish. The second would be to ask his father for the parchment Vlad had given him. Yorm had already made the decision to take over as the village healer, although less out of the way than Vlad. He would have to figure out why he liked being in the woods so much.
For now though, he stared at the clouds out of the cockpit window. With a little argument with Paulsen, Yorm had managed to force his way into the co-pilot seat since it was empty. He listened to the pilot ramble on about people he had met in his career, and a few of the stories were outrageous and managed to make Yorm laugh.
Shimitani
"Alright kid, we're here." Paulsen said as he touched the aircraft down about a mile north of town, as requested by Yorm. The teen in question donned his grey trench-coat and gloves, along with a grey hat given to him by Nora. He could see the ground covered in about an inch of snow. Recent winds on the mountains had reached a high and pulled the powder over the town.
On the outskirts, Yorm could see that some of the buildings were to come back into order. The foundations were still usable, so houses were being formed again. The town hall was now smaller and made of almost all wood. Chatter was barely audible through the fire lit windows, but Yorm wasn't ready to go back yet. He still had a job to do. He started into the woods, heading for a specific place.
Yorm would have normally used the shadows to shorten his journey, but he decided to enjoy the night, flakes in the air and his breath visible. He walked onward, determined to honor Vlad. The woods were quiet and calm. Any Grimm that were in this area were either exterminated or had left. The great-sword and dagger remained on his back, next to Carver.
Vlad's cabin, or at least the shambles of it came into view through the fractured moonlight. Wood pieces scattered the area and Yorm walked over them before settling on the main pile. Sinking to his knees, Yorm fought back some tears as he started to sift through the rubble for a keepsake of some sort. He couldn't keep the axe.
Nothing was there except for a cigar box and a somehow intact bottle of whiskey. Pocketing the box as his desired item, Yorm looked at the drink in his hand. He had seen Vlad drink this many times, along with his own father. They had always told him that is calmed them down, relaxed them. Why not? Yorm uncorked the bottle in his hands and took a swig.
Almost immediately he doubled over coughing. The brownish yellow drink burned in his throat and barely had a taste behind the pain. As he fought to get control of his chest, he heard a slightly strained laugh behind him. "Doesn't quite taste the way you expect, does it?" Soren said as he leaned on a wooden cane and looked at his son.
"Try it again. This time take it slower." Yorm looked at his father with confusion on his face. You weren't normally supposed to give your kid alcohol. Looking at the bottle in his hand, Yorm gave it another taste, this time holding the liquid in his mouth before swallowing. Smokey, like a barrel burning. It went down smoother. Soren walked forward, taking the bottle and a sip of his own, sighing at the pleasant burn. "This is a one time thing. You'll have to wait a few more years for it again."
Yorm nodded before looking around. He was searching for a proper burial place for Carver. Soren took heed of this as he corked the bottle and put it in his own pocket. "Come son, I know of a place he always liked." Soren began to walk in North-East and Yorm followed, interested in the place his father was talking about.
It didn't take long to reach the place. Just ten minutes of a walk in a different direction that RWBY hadn't taken. In a small clearing, not unlike what already dotted the woods, stood a great oak. It was at least ten times as thick as Yorm was at the bottom of the trunk and lost little the higher it grew. It stretched above the other trees and its gnarled roots stretched out in waves. A perfect circle away from the tree.
"What is this place?" Yorm asked, his breath taken away at how important it felt. Soren took a moment to answer, taking in the sight himself. "It is the heart of the forest. Long ago, this was the first tree ever planted. From it, the rest grew." Yorm now understood the importance of the tree. It was a beginning.
"What now?" He asked, palming the axe handle as it lay on his back. Soren gestured forward. "Find a place. You will know when you find it." And so Yorm wandered around the root system, holding the axe in one hand and the other in his coat. It took a while, but Yorm finally had a feeling of the right place. He set the axe down, for some reason knowing he didn't need to bury it.
Instead, roots came upwards like fingers, grasping and rapping around the wooden handled and pulling it downwards through the cold ground like water. It dissipated from sight and Yorm felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, Vlad stood there, looking content. "Thanks." He said, and his form blew away into mist when a gust came.
Yorm was silent for a time, before he walked back to his waiting father, and past him to the village. Soren caught up, and pulled something out of a shirt pocket. He handed the item to his son, an old parchment. "It's up to you, if you want to take over as the healer."
"I will." Yorm said. He still had a few questions, but all those could wait. It was time he went back home.
Shimitani
The village was in better shape than Yorm thought from a first glance. Those soldiers Beacon sent turned out to be very capable builders and where helping to restore the houses and original state of the village. Most of the people where not in their homes though. Instead it was much like an annual gathering at the town hall, but with cots while they waited for them builders to be done.
Soren left the inside of the Town Hall to the villagers, opting for a small, wooden shelter built on top of the roof. Two hammocks, one for him and one for Yorm, hung from the walls. "Have any Grimm been sighted since I left?" Yorm asked. His father shook his head.
"Only a small amount above normal. Nothing we haven't been able to handle." Yorm sighed. "Good." With that, Yorm used some of his aura to jump to the roof. Soren climbed the ladder on the side, and they rested that night. Their village was coming back.
The End. The real one. This story is over. Now it will continue with new characters on the new story coming. This is an AU now. Make sure to tune in Friday to meet Team DMNO.