A blade flashed through the air. It was clumsy. Weak. As if he were afraid of hurting the air he struck. Gehrman would be hard-pressed to imagine the strike cutting through wet paper.

He was getting better. Good.

"Enough!" Gehrman yelled. The boy shrieked in fright, his weak and flimsy grip failing. Gehrman watched in disdain as the sword clattered to the ground; before rounding his gaze on the boy's sheepish expression.

Gehrman simply stared at him. The boy shrank into himself. Trying to hide from his eyes.

This one would not survive the hunt. There was no doubt in Gehrman's mind. Not as he was. The beasts would make short work of him. Dream or not, he would succumb to them. The boy knew it, too. That he would suffer the same fate time and time again if he did not change. That death would drive him to insanity.

It was smart of him to come to Gehrman. It was doubly kind that the old man had agreed to teach him. Gehrman hadn't shouldered a student in many years. Not since Maria.

Why had he? After Maria, it almost felt as he were spitting on her memory, teaching this boy. She was to be his best, and last. Why would he sully that legacy with this boy?

Gehrman had asked himself that very question many times over, watching his dismal efforts. Perhaps he pitied him? Gehrman had thought his pity long dead, buried under his years of anguish. Had this been the time of his workshop, Gehrman would have dismissed him the moment he'd dropped his sword. What sort of hunter couldn't even hold a weapon properly?

Gehrman stared into his eyes, looking for an answer. When none came he sank back into his wheelchair.

"That was better," Gehrman admitted. The boy almost preened under the praise.

"For a moment there, you almost looked like an initiate."

The boy deflated like a balloon, sighing bitterly in defeat.

"Your footwork is the problem." Gehrman said, answering his unspoken question. "It almost made me ill, honestly. You're not a tree. Move your feet."

He groaned, "It's not that simple."

Gehrman scoffed. "What? Do they stop listening once you've a blade in hand? Just do what comes naturally, for goodness sake."

"It doesn't come 'naturally' to everyone, you know." The boy answered. "Some of us have to see what you're talking about before we can understand, and well…." he trailed off awkwardly.

Gehrman sighed. His wheelchair. A reminder of his burden, of the shackles binding him here. There was no weight. Not now. If he tried to rise from the chair, thou-

It's invisible tendrils licked and pulled at the back of his head, his arms, his legs. At once, his limbs felt heavy – as if were truly infirm. Like his blood had been replaced with lead, his bones with heavy rocks.

Gehrman relaxed into the seat. The pulling stopped.

"You think this wheelchair is for show?" Gehrman quipped, short of breath. "I'm much too old to prance about with you."

The boy grunted, a frown spreading across his face as he adopted a thinking position.

Just go fight the beasts, Gehrman thought. Fight and die. Learn and die. Like every single other before you. These headstones mark your predecessors, all of whom managed without. Why do you think you deserve this treatment, this training?

"Alright," the boy declared, planting himself on the ground a few paces from Gehrman. "Can we go over it once more? If I hear it just one more time, I think I'll comprehend it."

The boy's eyes focused on him in a way Gehrman recognized. It was the same way a young girl had stared at him long, long ago. When her teacher mocked her for standing like a tree when she struck with her saber. After her family had been taken by beasts. She'd given him that exact stare.

Perhaps that stare was why? Honesty always was his weakness.

The boy struggled to learn from him. It made sense. Even the most adept of his initiates had needed sparring partners to work the kinks out of their technique. The presence would not let him leave his chair, though, so what was he to do?

Ah, perhaps…yes, she would still be kicking. No mere beast would take her.

"In the waking world," Gehrman said. "There is a women garbed like a crow. Eileen. Pester her like you pester me, and she might just show you a thing or two."

The boy sprang to his feet, "You're certain?!"

Gehrman chuckled, "You'll have to be very convincin-"

Jaune was snapped from his reverie as an errant tree branch struck his face.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" The girl with hair like fire blurted. "Are you okay?"

He didn't mean to leave him. He was so...so certain he'd chosen the dream. That he'd decided to return. It was his goal. The only reason he had to continue. Fire? Steel? As if that alone could break him. For his teacher, he would have endured. It was his destiny. He'd pursued it with such reckless abandon. Slaved away against the night and it's creatures if only to see relief in his teachers eyes.

Yet here he was. The evidence of his failure hanging high in the sky, shining it's blinding light down into his eyes.

Jaune nodded back at her.

Pyrrha Nikos wasn't sure what to make of her partner.

The fact that he hadn't asked for her autograph upon seeing her face already put him leagues above the other students she'd interacted with. Who didn't know of the great Pyrrha Nikos? Their eyes would light with recognition, excitement spread across their expression. Pyrrha could almost see the moment she stopped being a person. The moment she became a dream, some shining star beyond a simple conversation.

She thought she'd escaped that by coming to Vale. How wrong she was.

Vale was exactly the same. It's people, exactly the same. She'd not had a normal interaction with a single person since she'd arrived at Beacon. Not during the assembly, nor in the time leading up to initiation. She was still hounded by her reputation.

At first, she though him exactly the same as everyone else. The surprise in his eyes betrayed him.

Swallowing her bitterness, she told him her name. She was prepared for him to cry in delight. Ecstatic that he'd gotten the champion as his partner.

Except, he didn't do any of that.

Instead he blinked and told her his name – Jaune Arc.

"Do you...know who I am?"

"...Should I?"

She liked that name. Jaune. Short and sweet.

Yet, even Pyrrha could see that something was strange about him. The dark clothing that covered every inch of his skin. Even a small piece of cloth concealed his mouth from the world; leaving his pale-blue eyes the only visible part of his face. Odd, as far as huntsmen went.

Pyrrha could understand the need for silence while walking through a forest infested with grimm, she really could, but he'd given her his name and mysteriously became mute. Only communicating in short nods and gestures. The silence was beginning to make her nervous.

Jaune was very tired.

Why was he following her? He had no reason too, really. Other than she'd asked him too. Declared them partners and proclaimed they were to head north, looking for old relics in some dilapidated temple.

Why had he even bothered to get up? What as the point? He had failed. His connection to the dream was severed. The night would not end for Gehrman. Someone may free him eventually, but Jaune would never know. It would never be a certainty.

So again, why had he even bothered to follow her?

He was...tired.

"You said something about an…initiation?" he asked from behind her. She turned towards him, remembering at once just how tall he was. "What initiation?"

Huh?

"The initiation…for hunters attending Beacon?" Pyrrha responded. Did he hit his head after he'd been launched from the cliff? That would explain a great deal. The confusion in his eyes when she saw him. His disorientation, even his lack of speech. Pyrrha let her eyes roam over his form, looking for injuries.

Jaune eyed her inquisitively as she inspected him whilst he simultaneously digested her words. An initiation for hunters?

Gehrman's workshop disbanded long ago, and Jaune saw no badge adorning her form. Was she lying to him? Luring him to her comrades, hoping to nick his trinkets and valuables? Jaune hadn't bothered to get rid of all the coins he'd found, seeing as how they sold for hardly any echoes, so he did have quite a few on his person…

No. She didn't have the look of a bandit about her. What sort of bandit apologized to someone, ever?

Then...could she be speaking of a new school? A new sort of hunter? She was not dressed like any sort of hunter Jaune had seen before. She left much of skin exposed – something Jaune found rather scandalous. No hunter would dare be caught so unarmored against the beastly threat. She had rather lovely legs, though; with a sweet scent to boot. Like herbs and...flowers? A stark difference to the perfumes and incense Jaune was used too.

Suddenly thankful for the mask covering his cheeks, Jaune bade to answer her.

"Ah." Jaune said, "For hunters. I understand."

She did not respond. Her eyes were so focused, as if she were trying to stare through him. What was she looking for?

Suddenly, he heard the would-be-huntress softly gasp. Jaune tracked her stare to a small laceration on his calf. Six inches, perhaps? Maybe an inch or so deep? The bleeding had already stopped, but the wound was open and gaping. Foolish of him to think he'd escaped that encounter with beasts unscathed. Nothing a blood vial couldn't fi-

Ah. That's right. Gehrman used them all.

"Why didn't your aura protect you?" Pyrrha asked with urgency in her voice, turning his body with strength belying her form to inspect his wound.

"My what?" Jaune responded, pulling himself from her.

"You...don't know what aura is?" Pyrrha asked, too dumbfounded to be aggrieved as he pulled away. A huntsmen that didn't know of aura? Unheard of.

Jaune blinked at her.

"Bears our burdens? Shields our hearts?"

"That's...poetic?" Jaune hazarded.

"What? No, it's -" Pyrrha struggled for words. "It's more than that. Aura is the manifestation of our soul. It bears our burdens an-"

"I got that bit," Jaune interrupted. "What does it do?"

"It protects you from harm," Pyrrha answered. "Heals you when you're injured. You...really don't know what it is?"

"Huh..." Jaune hummed. "Sounds useful."

A huntsmen that hadn't unlocked his aura. The evidence was right before her but Pyrrha could hardly believe it. How had he managed the landing with only a scrape to show for it? Beyond any shadow of a doubt, a fall from those cliffs should have killed him.

Never mind how he'd survived the cliff's, how had he gotten into the school at all? Surely a place like Beacon would have checked for such a universal standard before flinging them from cliffs? For such a base requirement?

Unless...he hadn't really gotten into the school at all.

It wasn't unheard of, students cheating their way into huntsmen academies. Upstarts with illusions of grandeur, usually, but the reasons were plentiful. Criminals backgrounds. Teenagers who've parents have forbade them from attending. Though, that didn't explain how he'd survived the launch. Nor why he hadn't known of the initiation at all.

Pyrrha regarded him in a new light. She ought to get him safely out of the forest, and report him to the headmaster – for his own good. Huntsmen without training never lasted. It was practically a death sentence for him. She would need to find a new partne-

She remembered then, how the girl with white hair had stared at her like a piece of meat. How the other students had avoided her during the assembly. The defeated looks of opponents in her tournaments. As if she were on some sort of lone statue, beyond all of them.

She was sick of it.

It...it would be fine, right? She would protect him. Though...if that wasn't enough...

"Here," Pyrrha declared after a short pause. "Let me unlock it for you."

Pyrrha glanced at him, silently asking for permission.

Should he give it? Jaune was familiar with rituals. In his, admittedly limited, experience they did not go well for the recipients. His first instinct was to deny her.

However...that particular instance had remarkably different circumstances. She did not have an umbilical chord, for starters. Nor was her intent to convene with a great one. Unlocking his...aura – whatever that was. It didn't sound terribly mad. The shield didn't particularly enthuse him, but the healing?

He was out of blood vials…

Placing a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching to touch his forehead. Closing her eyes, she silently hoped she wasn't breaching his privacy. Before beginning to recite the words her father had spoken to her, when he'd unlocked her aura.

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect the-"

Something was wrong.

A great pressure descended down on the back of Pyrrha's head. For a moment she was sure she'd been struck, then the pain pulsed from a singular point to the rest of her skull. Again, and again it pulsed. Each wave worse than the last. The pain kept her eyes shut tight. The outside world faded to black. All she became aware of was the pounding of her skull.

Drip-drip

Water?

Pyrrha fought to open her eyes. Something compelling her – pulling her to see.

What? What was she meant to see?

Fighting through another wave of pain, she struggled against an unseen weight. The feeling was comparable to the time she'd attempted to lift a semi-truck with her semblance. It's weight was absolute. Even so, she had to see. No matter what, she needed to witness this.

Against all odds, Pyrrha gave one last push and tore her eyelids open.

She saw it.

Drip-drip

It had it's hands - no, tentacles? It's appendages curled around him. Reaching. Grasping. Caressing. Where did it began? Better yet, where did it end? It stared at her – through her. Was it large? Small? She needed to look closer, deeper. Then she would see. Understand. Just a little closer and she would see -

Pyrrha was overcome with the urge to leave. Leave, now! Away, she must go away!

Light exploded from the peripheral of her vision as she was blown backwards, landing on her rear before falling completely onto her back.

A voice called to her. It was dull and muted, as if a layer of water was between herself and the speaker. It grew louder, though. Until it was as if someone were yelling directly into her eardrum. Just when she thought the voice would shatter her skull, it stopped. Pyrrha became aware of the smell of earth, the sensation of grass tickling her bare skin.

She opened her eyes a second time. Jaune had fallen to his knees, one hand massaging his temple while the other gripped the earth to steady himself. She was prone, on her side, looking to him.

What had happened? She felt...light, as if she were floating in water.

"What…What did you do?" Jaune ground out angrily.

"I..." Pyrrha struggled to recall. She'd placed her hands on him, began reciting the words, then...nothing. Blank. She couldn't remember a thing. She'd meant to unlock his aura...had she done it wrong?

No. His form glistened with pale light. The cut on his calf had already mended itself. It had worked.

So what was that?

Jaune followed her gaze to his calf.

"It...it healed?" he whispered, amazed.

"Yes," Pyrrha answered. "Your aura healed it."

Pyrrha spent a moment looking at him. Normally, when a person unlocked their aura the change was small, negligible – until they learned to control and harness it properly. It took months of rigorous training to use it properly.

For Jaune to exude such light mere moments after it being unlocked…

"Incredible..." Pyrrha whispered in awe. Jaune sent a questioning at her, dumbfounded but curious.

"Your aura – you have quite a lot." Quite a lot. As if that did it justice. It was almost absurd, how much he had. The color was rather beautiful, too. White with a smidgen of blue.

His aura was unlocked. She'd done everything right. Just as her father had done for her.

So why had they both passed out? Why couldn't she remember what had happened?

What was this unease she felt?

Jaune curled and unfurled his fists, staring at the light that covered him. Marveling at it's iridescence.

It felt as if he'd shaken cobwebs from his body he never knew he had. His heart pumped with such vigor, it's drumming threatening to burst from his chest. Had he always been so light? The hunters attire was never heavy to begin with, but it's burden was not negligible. Now it was as if he wore nothing at all. Even the ever cumbersome heft of his blade had faded to mere pocket weight. With this, slaying beasts would be but a trifle.

Despite all this, a pervasive exhaustion pulled at him. Sinking deep into his frame. This...it changed nothing. He'd still failed.

Why should he care?

Still, he had no answer.

A crack echoed throughout the forest. Jaune recognized the sound. Gunfire.

"Gunfire," Pyrrha echoed his thoughts. She drew her weaponry. A sword and shield. "Seems our comrades have encountered some grimm. We should hurry."

She cast a glance a wayward glance at him.

"Can you fight?"

A short laugh escaped him. He couldn't help it. The question was innocent, so he took no offense to it. She'd just met him. How could she know?

Could he fight?

Once upon a time he couldn't. His feet tripped over nothing, and he fell into the waiting maws of beast and hunter alike. When he was too weak to use the second form of his sword. When his hands shook and trembled at the sight of a mere scourge beast.

Those days were long gone.

Jaune wordlessly tore his sword from it's sheathe. The sun gleamed off the polished silver beautifully. He'd slain those beasts during the night, hadn't he? This would be his blades first excursion underneath the light of day. Jaune couldn't find the heart to be excited.

Once, grasping his blade filled him heat. Ardor. Each slain beast was another victory. Each kill wrought a greater lust for the next battle, for the next victory against the night.

Now?

Exhaustion permeated through his skin. His blade was heavy in his hand. The blood in his veins, cold.

Why did he even care?

"This is Yang – she's my older sister! Oh, and the grumpy looking one is Weiss, my partner."

"Hey!"

"I'm just joking!" She replied. "Well...mostly joking..."

Weiss grumbled indignantly.

"That leaves Blake. She doesn't talk much. She's nice too, though."

"A pleasure to meet all of you," Pyrrha smiled. "I'm -"

"Pyrrha Nikos," Yang answered. "...We've all heard of you."

Pyrrha sighed, but retained her smile. "...And this is Nora and Ren."

"Greetings."

"Hello!"

Everyone's attention was stolen by a pitiful groan.

"Ah," Pyrrha said. "This is Jaune, my partner – who is somewhat...indisposed, at the moment."

Jaune had his weight leaned fully against his seat, both hands clutching the edge of it as though his life depended on it. His feet were making a valiant effort to ingrain themselves deeply as possible into the metal flooring. With each rock and shake of the bullhead, another tortured groan escaped his lips.

Not from pain. The battle had been trivial. This aura...it was a shield, as well. Glancing blows were shirked away, and while the impact struck him, it saved him from being impaled by the absurdly large bird's pinions. His blade was incredibly light, even in it's second form. Only a few superficial bruises dotted his forearms, where he'd blocked the birds feathers.

No, this was much worse.

Dreadful motion sickness.

"He's uh...not much of a flier, is he?" Ruby remarked.

Another garbled groan answered her.

"Renny, I think Jauney's gonna hurl."

"Perhaps you should give him a bit of space, then?"

Nora had been been talking his ear off ever since this...contraption took to the sky. An endless babble of what she'd had for breakfast, how much she'd like to have it for dinner, how Ren ought to cook it for herself and their new friends. The most wonderful dream she had last night which involved mountains of pancakes and castles, consequently made of pancakes.

It was almost enough to distract him from the fact they were soaring through the sky on a mechanical death-trap.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He would be, if this infernal machine would stop rumbling! Perhaps he should have resisted more?

"He...isn't looking so hot," the girl with wild blonde hair stated. "Maybe we should have let him walk?"

A sudden rush from his stomach silenced any reply Jaune might have had. Jaune, intimately aware of what was coming, quickly removed his cloth mask.

"I knew it Ren! I'm a psychic!"

"Oh gross gross gross!"

"It's on my shoes!"

Once the bullhead landed, Jaune all but fell out of it onto the landing pad. Quickly stumbling over to what looked to be a waste bin, before more bile spilled from his lips..

A chorus of disgusted noises sounded from behind him. Sod off. This was evidence that men were not meant to take flight.

A ship that soared through the air?! How it rocked and churned! Almost as much as his stomach churned. He knew he shouldn't have boarded. It spelt disaster from the moment it had nosily descended near that temple.

Just where had he ended up? No such machine existed in Yharnam.

Red hair swayed from his peripheral, whilst a hand gently pat his upper back. Jaune would be lying if he said the act did not give him some measure of comfort.

"My thanks," he gasped as the nausea faded.

Pyrrha smiled at him, "Of cour-"

"You," A stern voice called from behind him. Jaune turned towards the source.

A woman stood there. With shoulder length blonde hair, and piercing green eyes. Her glare was fixated on him, the look fierce enough to make Jaune wary. A quick glance revealed no weaponry on her person, save for a...crop for horse riding? Strange. Then again, what hadn't be strange as of yet?

"Come with me. The headmaster would speak with you."

"Ah, but Miss Goodwitch." Pyrrha interjected nervously. "The team naming ceremony is in a few short hours-"

"This matter is not up for debate, Miss Nikos," she bit, her gaze silencing any protest before Pyrrha could even mount them.

"You will come with me."

What should he do? His immediate instinct was to fight. To fight and run. The way this woman glared at him, there was no doubt she held animosity for him.

Though...could he fight his way out of here? He was not familiar with this school. How many winding paths would he have to fight through? How many hunters? Jaune held no doubts of his strength, but after witnessing what these fellows were capable of…

"Very well," Jaune finally answered. "Lead the way."

Pyrrha watched anxiously as her partner was led away.

"Ooh..." Nora cooed. "Jauney's in trouble."

"Nora," Ren admonished.

"Am I wrong?"

"…It's not right to assume."

They knew, Pyrrha thought. The staff. Of course they knew he wasn't here legally. How could they not? Pyrrha had given Jaune too much credit, and the Beacon staff too little. It was only ever a matter of time.

Still, they had found him out so quickly. Before she could formulate any sort of idea. Any sort of plan. He didn't fight like someone who had to cheat their way into Beacon. While Pyrrha had initially doubted his skills, he'd proven himself thrice over with their battle against the death stalker. He was an experienced and trained huntsmen.

That being said, why didn't he just apply normally? Someone of his skill would have little difficulty passing the tests.

So why?

"Don't look so worried!" Nora exclaimed. "I was just joking, Pyrrha. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Pyrrha didn't agree. Not one bit.

"Have a seat, Mr. Arc."

Jaune promptly sat, looking at the man across the table. Long hair swept to one side, gray – yet his skin was smooth, young. Neutral brown eyes. Jaune found his stare unnerving. The two sat in silence.

Finally the man spoke. "Jaune Arc. Do you remember what I said at yesterdays assembly?"

Jaune made no motion to speak. An assembly? His throat felt dry, for some reason. The air tingled his skin. The sheer pressure this man emanated made it difficult to swallow. It was the same sort of fear he'd felt when facing Gehrman in battle, the first time. Their eyes were frighteningly similar.

"No. I thought not. You were not at yesterdays assembly, were you?"

Jaune shook his head.

"Of course, this is no surprise to me. Your honest is appreciated though. This is my school, you know? I am Ozpin. Headmaster of this prestigious academy. I personally review most, if not all, applications to my school. Did you know that?"

Jaune nodded despite the fact he certainly hadn't known that. Suddenly, the option of running and fighting sounded much more appealing.

"Then you also must know that I find your face and name unfamiliar. I wonder why that is?"

Jaune said nothing.

"Not willing to speak? You were so honest, just a moment ago. I encourage you to remember that honesty."

Again, Jaune said nothing.

He motioned to his left. "Come, look at this Jaune Arc."

Ozpin motioned towards a screen of some sorts. Jaune hadn't seen it's like before. The screen showcased a portion of the Emerald Forest. A clearing. For a full minute, Jaune watched. It was a peaceful portion of the forest. The visible canopy swayed gently, dancing along with the wind.

Then, the camera rapidly flickered between static and the video before settling on static. The static did not last long, perhaps five seconds. When the feed reconnected, Jaune's figure was set against a tree, set in a fitful slumber. A few moments later, he awoke – and Jaune remembered intimately what came next.

"Very interesting, indeed. Quite the mystery. It looks as though you appear out of thin air. Wouldn't you agree?"

Jaune nodded.

Ozpin beset him with a stare. "Tell me, where are you from, Jaune Arc?"

"Yharnam," Jaune answered quickly without hesitation.

"I've quite a firm grasp of geography, Mr Arc, and that name means nothing to me. I suggest you try again. With honesty, and your imminent future in mind."

Honest confusion and befuddlement spread throughout his mind. What? This man, this terrifying headmaster of a school of hunters, hadn't heard of the miracle city? Where the disabled were made able? The terminally ill made well?

This man hadn't heard of Yharnam?

A new sort of fear, icy and cold, spread throughout his bones. The kind that he'd ignored, when people fired from a gun many times without reloading. Or hurled small parcels in rapid succession, each generating a powerful explosion. The kind of fear he ignored again, when a great metal bird descended from the heavens.

"I see this is quite the frightening prospect for you," Ozpin said, the pressure emanating from him lessening.

"It..." Jaune swallowed thickly. "It is, sir."

"Why is that?"

"...I'm afraid I may be farther from home than I thought."

Some time later, Jaune left the headmasters office in a daze. Nearly tripping over his feet on his way out. Ozpin remained seated, staring down at his desk, staring at nothing in particular. He remained that way even when Glynda entered the room.

After what felt an eternity, Ozpin addressed the patient woman.

"Did you hear what our...friend, had to say?"

"I did," Glynda answered. Ah, she'd been posted by the door of course. She hadn't liked the prospect of an 'unknown' sitting across from him. The boy was skilled, certainly, but Glynda worried too much. She always did.

"What did you think of it?" Ozpin asked, knowing her answer.

She scoffed, "He's lying, of course. A city where blood transfusions heal the sickly? Where men turn into some sort of...wolves come night time? Ridiculous."

Ozpin hummed in thought. "Yes, it does sound rather insane, I suppose. Though...it does remind me of a certain fairy tale concerning an old man and four young girls." He sent her a meaningful look.

Glynda waved her hand. "That particular story has been passed down for longer than anyone can remember. This is the first I've heard of such nonsense."

Glynda stared at him. "I do not like that look, headmaster."

"I can only wonder why."

"You do not mean to tell me you actually trust his story?"

"Trust? Such a generous word, Glynda." Ozpin sighed, sipping from his mug, before standing to stare out his window. "No, I certainly do not trust it. Nor him, for that matter. A skilled combatant falls from the proverbial sky onto my lap, who speaks of a blood that heals any ailment?" he shot her a look. "Only the foolish would believe such a story at first glance, and I need not tell you how such a thing would be useful to our friend in the lower levels."

Glynda allowed a sigh of relief to pass through her lips. "Oh, thank goodness. I was almost certain -"

"He will be attending here, however."

"Pardon?"

Ozpin raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were listening in?"

"Once I heard you dismiss his tale, I was certain you'd do the smart thing and send him away."

"It seems you do not know me all that well, then."

"So it seems," Glynda replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "...You yourself said you do not trust him. Yet minutes later you offer him a seat at the school. I see a disparity there, headmaster."

"He is a skilled hunter," Ozpin answered. "Did you see how quickly he came unto his aura? And the potency? It knocked our resident champion out cold. Remarkable. We would do well to have him on our side."

"And if he turns out to be a liar? An enemy? What then?"

"...Have you heard the saying, keeps your friends close and your enemies closer? I believe I'd apply that same logic here." Ozpin made a short sound of remembrance. "Did you find the time to look through the records?"

Glynda sighed, seeing the obvious and abrupt topic change. "Of course. I'm no fool. I recognized the name."

Glynda took a moment to look through her scroll.

"Johnathan Arc and Isabella Arc, with several children. However," Glynda raised her eyes to Ozpin's. "All girls. They don't have a son."

"Not due to a lack of trying, it seems." Ozpin muttered. "Interesting, then. That our wayward huntsmen would claim their name. When I asked him of his parents, he responded that his 'transfusion' stripped him of his prior memories."

"A remarkable coincidence," Glynda responded dryly. Ozpin nodded, acquiescent of the implication.

"Should..." Glynda gave him a hesitant look. "Wouldn't it be proper...a test of some sorts? Not to insinuate that Johnathan is unfaithful…but one can never be too sure."

Ozpin closed his eyes, thinking deeply. After a few moments of thought, he gave his answer.

"No. In time, perhaps, but not yet. As of now he is an uncertainty, and it will remain that way until we're more certain of his allegiance."

Ozpin certainly couldn't discount the possibility that he was one of her agents. It wouldn't be the first time she'd placed someone in front him, though this didn't stink of her schemes. It was far too obvious, far too easy. Her work was always far more conniving. A knife between the ribs from someone he trusted, usually. She knew that was what hurt, more than anything.

Though, perhaps she'd predicted his thought process? Few people on the planet knew him better. That too, was a terrifying possibility. What was he to do?

"Treat him as a normal student," Ozpin finally said. "Watch him carefully, of course. If he so much as steps toward our guest, well… " Ozpin trailed off.

"We'll do what we must."

Glynda coughed, while Ozpin sat back down.

"We'll need to place him in a position where he must report to the staff. Leaving him to his devices would be foolish."

"What do you propose?"

"A few things. The first and foremost, however..."

"You've got that look on your face again," Glynda said, exasperated.

Ozpin smiled, "And what sort of look is that?"

"The kind when you're about to do something you know I won't like."

"...Led by Jaune Arc!"

Jaune turned a baffled, bewildered look towards the man who'd announced something so ridiculous. Him? A leader? That hadn't worked...well, at all, the first time. The failure was so spectacular that the very concept of heading a group of individuals was terrifying. Wasn't this the same man who'd scoffed at him mere hours ago, when he spoke of his home? This man wanted him to lead?

Jaune didn't understand, not in the slightest. It wasn't...uncommon, for hunters to work in pairs. The largest group Jaune had ever seen was comprised of three hunters, in Yahar'gul. The exact reason why hunters usually preferred solitude. A group of blood-drunk hunters were an incredibly difficult challenge. While a solitary hunter, barring special circumstances, could be taken care of without great difficulty.

Then again, this wasn't Yharnam, was it? Nor Yahar'gul. This wasn't anywhere like he'd ever known. The people here did not even know of the old blood. Men did not change into monsters when the sun fell.

Was that a blessing? To be free of the old blood? Of the nightmare?

Jaune turned an eye to his 'team'.

Pyrrha smiled at him, earnestly, with a dash of pride. Her eyes may well have been sparkling. Nora had a similar grin on her face – yet that grin had been etched onto her face the entirety of the short time he'd known her. Even Ren, someone who'd remained stoic for the equally short time he'd known him was sporting a small smile.

Jaune was thankful for his mask. For he couldn't find it within himself to smile back at them.

My heartfelt thanks to those of you that took the time out of your day to read my story. An even bigger thank you to those of you that found it worth critiquing in a review. I'm pleased that people enjoyed my writing, and I hope you continue to enjoy.