Author's note: Just writing down an idea that's been rolling around in my noggin for a while. Not sure if it'll be entertaining to read or not so feel free to share your thoughts.

Cheers

Inside his bedroom, a frail looking old man laid on his bed as he looked out the window towards the shattered moon glowing beautifully in the clear night sky. A heart monitor beeping by his bedside hypnotically as he breathed laboriously through his oxygen mask. He knew that his time was almost up so as he stared at the moon, he started reminiscing about this life so far.

Ozma, or Oswald as he was known in this life, was an archeologist that had made a name for himself by going on dangerous expeditions into grimm infested lands and discovered, or rediscovered in his case, many forgotten ruins and recovered many historical artifacts of great significance that brought him fame and fortune.

He used both to promote and invest into the then still fledgling huntsmen academies, ensuring that there will always be huntsmen and huntresses to safeguard the Kingdoms from the threat of grimm. He even helped established the combat schools to better prepare those who wished to become humanity's future protectors.

He smiled with content at what he had accomplished in this life and hoped that they'll be enough to make up for some of the mistakes he made in his previous life. He wished he could have done more for the faunus but there was little he could do then. He could only pray that the White Fang movement that had started up recently will help mend the divide between faunus and humans one day.

Ozma looked out to the moon once more as he let his mind wander before it settled on the mistakes he had made.

He always considered himself to be a wise man and was often seen by those closest to him to be the wisest on the face of Remnant. He tried to dissuade them of the notion many times as the wisdom he possess was gained through the many mistakes he had made throughtout his long existence.

Some mistakes were minor and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things while others had more dire ramifications than he had thought possible at the time. Some of which still haunted him to this day. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply in regret at his mistakes before shaking his head.

He couldn't dwell on them for long as he thought back briefly to a particularly miserable life where he had gone insane with grief and drunk himself into an early grave in a effort to forget it all. It was one of the lowest points in all of his many lives.

After that, he had eventually made peace with himself and he decided to learn from his mistakes as best as he was able.

Some he was able to learn quickly like how to craft a weapon to replace his staff that had he had thrown away during his state of misery, something which he regretted to this day. He'll admit that he didn't think of it until one of his more agreeable hosts gave him the idea when he spoke of the times where he was incarnated into a host that didn't have the means to legally acquire a suitable weapon due to financial difficulties.

Another lesson he had learned some time after was to not bury said weapon in his grave after it was nearly stolen by a brazen grave robber…or getting caught grave robbing himself which made retrieving his weapon even more difficult. Especially the time when he got sent to the local asylum when his host made an offhanded remark about how he wasn't robbing the grave since it was his own. It took him a good while to convince the doctors that he wasn't insane and secured his release.

Suffice to say, he learned from that mistake and started storing his cane in hidden vaults in between incarnations before moving to bank safety deposit boxes when it was established. If that wasn't possible then he'd leave it with a trusted friend or confidant to hold onto until he came to retrieve it by posing as his previous incarnation's distant relative though he tried to avoid doing the latter due to how awkward and troublesome it was at times to prove his identity.

One of which involved an old lover who saw his former self in his latest incarnation and believed that he had come back for her. It was awkward to say the least but the matter was resolved peacefully.

Oswald chuckled ruefully at the memory before his thoughts drifted to another thing he had learned. He knew that whenever his hosts died, he'd be incarnated into a new host who shared his mindset. So he kept track of the types of people he'd incarnate into over the centuries and believed that he had figured out a way to predict who he might incarnate into.

Granted, the theory was far from perfect since there were so many variables involved so couldn't guarantee the results. So, he did whatever he could to stack the deck in his favor by casting his net as wide as possible. Using Oswald's connections, he'd meet with carefully selected individuals who potentially met his criteria.

From there, he'd support those he selected by doing whatever he could to help elevate them into positions of power all while subtly influencing them and adjust their mindset to be closer to his. This way, should any one of them end up as his next host, he'd have a better head start in his effort to protect humanity. Even if the theory was far from sound, he was very confident in the candidates he had chosen.

The very first candidate that came to mind was an ambitious soldier in the Atlas military, Captain Ironwood. He had quite the number of achievements under his belt and was well known for his valor and honorable conduct on and off duty. Last he heard, the young captain was going to be promoted to a Major soon and was expected to keep going up in the chain of command.

Another potential host was a brilliant researcher from Vale named Merlot. The man was well versed in multiple fields of science including robotics and artificial intelligence though he specialized in grimm and how to fight them more effectively. This garnered Ozma's interests and had approached Merlot with an offer to sponsor his research. Last he heard, the man had started up his own company in the establish city of Mountain Glenn.

The next was a huntsman who had graduated from Beacon a few years ago named Ozpin who had made quite the name for himself out in the frontier by saving villages and rescuing travelers on the road from both grimm and bandits. Oswald smiled as Ozpin's deeds reminded him of his own adventures as Ozma. He had asked Beacon's current headmaster to reach out to Ozpin and see if he'd be interested in taking up a position at the school.

There were many other candidates from all walks of life with various levels of support from him but he couldn't help but favor these three the most as their mindset aligned with his on various levels. He prayed that the preparations he had made would be enough and that it wouldn't take him too long to come back this time. Regardless, he had left instructions with his inner circle so they'll be able to keep things in order during his absence.

Then just as if on cue, he heard the heart monitor's beeping becoming erratic moments before he felt the pain in his chest worsening as he suddenly went into a violent coughing fit. All the noise drew attention as a man and a woman dressed in a nurse's uniform ran into the room and while the former literally zipped over to his side in a burst of aura enhanced speed.

"Doctor Oswald!" the man cried as he tried to help ease his pain by turning the valve to the oxygen tank to release more oxygen though which eased his coughing but his chest still felt like it was on fire as the heart monitor's beeping continued to increase, "Nurse!" he called out desperately as the woman took out a syringe and jabbed it into an intravenous tube and injected the drug into him.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be enough to save his life as Ozma felt Oswald's life energy fading away as their vision grew more cloudy by the moment. The man who tried to save him started crying as he kept calling out Oswald's name in despair. Ozma and Oswald were both touched by their protege's feelings and prayed that he'll do well in life.

Soon, the heart monitor beeping stopped and Oswald passed away. In the realm between realms, two souls shared a meaningful look with each other and bade their farewells as one entered into the afterlife while the other made their way back to the realm of the living and continue their seemingly endless duty.

'Is it so wrong to want to be a hero? To save people!?'

Ozma's consciousness stirred as he slowly became aware of himself again and more importantly, of his new host who he could tell was clearly in distress by the sounds of sniffling and choked back sobs. His host was currently looking down into his reflection in the river which showed Ozma that his host was evidently quite young and clearly not any of the candidates that he had hoped for.

'Well things certainly didn't go as I had planned.' Ozma thought to himself. On the bright side, humanity will still benefit from his formerly potential hosts' actions.

"Huh? Who's there?" his host squeaked out in panic as the young child looked around only to see no one there, which only worried him more.

Ozma chided himself for revealing himself so soon but this is as good as a time as any he supposed. At least he could now see through his host's eyes that they were in a forest somewhere next to a small stream.

'Be at ease young one. I mean you no harm.' Ozma said gently, hoping to calm his host down. It wouldn't do to suddenly attract any nearby grimm with the child's negativity.

"How can I do that when I can't even see you?" his host demanded as the boy kept looking around nervously, "Wait…are you a g-g-ghost!?"

'In a way, I suppose you could technically call me that.' Ozma replied candidly which only served to scare the boy as he felt his host's heart rate spike in terror, 'Calm down, like I said earlier, I mean you no harm.'

"O-okay…if you say so Mr Ghost." the boy said nervously. "Is…is there something you…w-want from me?" he then asked, his thoughts suddenly filled with images of terrible things he'd have to do to appease 'Mr Ghost'…well, terrible in the mind of a child at least. Stealing is a crime yes, but stealing an apple from the neighbor's orchard is hardly terrible.

Ozma chuckled to himself as he shook his none-existent head at the boy but decided to humor the boy a little.

'What I want…' Ozma paused for dramatic effect, which worked as his host let out an audible gulp, '…is to know why you're doing out here all by yourself.'

He then felt his host's mood souring at the question which made him wonder if it was something he shouldn't have asked. A few moments passed by in silence before his host looked in a certain direction and saw a large house sitting on a hill in the distance.

"I…I had a fight with my dad. He made me angry so I ran out here to get away from him." his host answered. Any sign of nervousness gone from the boy's voice.

'And what was the fight about?' Ozma asked

"I…I wanted to be a huntsman when I grew up like my dad but when I asked my dad if he could train me he said no. He told me that I didn't have what it takes to become one." the boy said, his thoughts filled with anger but it quickly died down into sadness with the boy's next words, "Is it so wrong to want to be a hero? To save people?"

Ozma thought back to the very first thing he heard when his consciousness awoke and felt some kinship with the boy. Perhaps this was why the boy ended up as his host.

'No, no it isn't my boy.' Ozma answered. 'But perhaps your father was worried for you? Being a huntsman is a very dangerous job after all."

The boy sighed, "I know but I still want to go out there and help people. Make a difference and live up to my family name."

Ozma mentally nodded as he came to understand his host's motivation and asked, 'Live up to your family name? What did your ancestors do have made you want to be a huntsman?'

"They're heroes…my grandpa told me that my great-great grandfather fought in the Great War and that my great grandfather and grandpa both became huntsmen that helped people all across the kingdoms by protecting them from grimm and bandits." the boy answered, his eyes lit up as his thoughts were filled with memories of his grandpa's stories of their family history. Some were familiar to Ozma while others he had experienced himself.

'And what of your father? You said he is a huntsmen too, correct?'

"Yeah! Dad's the strongest huntsmen in Ansel. He protects the town from all sorts of grimm." the boy said with great enthusiasm but it quickly died immediately after as he started tearing up again, "But he doesn't want me to become one…it's not fair. I just want to be a hero like him."

'Life is rarely ever fair…' Ozma said softly before a thought occurred to him, 'However, it doesn't mean you can't train be a huntsman.'

"Huh? What do you mean?" the boy asked, "My dad won't train me and the other huntsmen in Ansel listen to him so if he says so, they won't train me too. Who else can train me?"

'I can.' Ozma replied.

"Really!?" the boy asked, his hope quickly rising before a twinge of doubt enter his mind, "But how? Aren't you just a ghost?"

Ozma chuckled at how quickly his host was adapting to speaking so casually with a 'ghost' but he continued to humor the boy, 'I may be a ghost but I'm the ghost of a mighty warrior that has gone through countless battles and adventures long before I met you. So even if I can't be there physically, I can still teach you how to train yourself. Though it will still depend on the effort you put into your training. The only question is, are you up for it?

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you Mr Ghost!" the boy cheered as he jumped up and down with joy.

'It's a little too soon to thank me just yet my boy. The training won't be easy.' Ozma said warningly. 'But if you do what I say and keep at it, I can promise you that it will be worth it. Do you understand?'

"Yep! I'll do anything if it helps me become a hero!" the boy cheered. Ozma worried about the boy's naiveness but believe it will work out in the end.

'Good and since we're going to be spending a lot of time together from now on, let's introduce ourselves so that we may get to know each other better. My name is Ozma. What's yours?'

The boy smiled brightly as he looked up into the sky and answered, "My name is Jaune Arc!"

(Omake/Interlude)

'Jaune…' Ozma said wearily.

'Yeah? What is it Mr Ghost?' Jaune mentally replied. Learning that he could speak with Ozma like this saved him the trouble of being caught talking to himself like a crazy person. Being sent to an asylum once was more than enough.

'First of, my name is Ozma and I hope you'll remember to use it from now on.' Ozma huffed, 'Secondly, when you told me you had sisters, I had thought you meant two or three sisters but seven?' Ozma said as he stared at the utter chaos that was the scene of seven girls of varying ages scrambling around the living room as they rushed about with various cleaning implements in their hands.

'Sorry Mr Gh-Ozma. Everyone in Ansel is already used to it for so long that I forgot to tell you.' Jaune replied sheepishly

'It's fine my boy. I was just shocked. Still, I do question why they're running about the room in such a hurry.'

'Oh, they're just cleaning the place up since it's family picture day. Happens every year.' Jaune replied as he, much to Ozma's bewilderment, headed towards the chaos that was the Arc Sisters.

Ozma was about to warn Jaune about one of the sisters seconds away from crashing into them when the boy simply ducked under the sister who also jumped just high enough to avoid each other and carried on as usual. Ozma grew more bewildered as he saw Jaune sidestep a thrown broom another sister just thrown only for a nearly identical sister to grab it and use it to sweep some dust away.

Jaune continued to casually maneuver his way through his sisters who were also somehow not crashing into each other amidst all the chaos. As he made his way towards the other side of the living room. He soon arrived at the sofa that had been designated to be the one where the family will sit for the photo and sat himself down in the middle.

'How did you all do that without crashing into each other?' Ozma asked out of genuine amazement while wondering if Jaune even needed his help with training, 'I've seen and led dozens of highly trained warriors with less coordination than that.'

Jaune simply shrugged, 'Like I said, it's family picture day and it happens every year. You'll get used to it.' Jaune then reached his hand under the cushions until he found what he was looking for and took out a small sketchpad with a pencil connected to it by a string made of woven rubber bands.

"Hey little bro, what'cha doing?" one of his older sisters asked as she joined him on the sofa.

"Hey Saphron. I'm just gonna draw something while we wait for mom to get the camera out. Jaune said as he opened the sketchbook to a blank page and started doodling.

Ozma tried to observe Jaune's drawing but unlike the level of skill and coordination the boy and his sisters just displayed, his artistic skills were a bit more mundane as he drew a stick figure with a sword and shield facing off against a cartoonish looking beowolf which slowly became less cartoonish and more detailed as he kept drawing which made Ozma wonder if his memories were already bleeding through. He was snapped out of it when the sketchpad was suddenly snatched out of Jaune's hand.

"Coral! Give it back!" Jaune protested as he tried to retrieve his sketchpad but was held back by Coral who Ozma assumed to be the eldest sibling given her height and more developed figure.

"Not until you chip in with the cleaning too buster." Coral scolded as she held Jaune back with one arm while keeping the sketchpad away with the other.

"Aww, lay off the squirt sis." Saphron said as she came to Jaune's defense, "We're just about done anyways."

Coral looked around and saw that Saphron was right as the rest of their siblings were putting away the cleaning supplies. All that was left was for their mother to return with the camera and their father to join them

"Fine." Coral groused as she let go of Jaune who reached his hands out expectantly for his sketchpad but was confused when Lavender didn't give it back. Instead she grinned mischievously at Jaune, "But you ain't getting this back just yet. Sable! Catch!"

Coral then tossed the sketchpad like a frisbee towards one of the more tomboyish sisters who caught the object, her eyes lit up with glee as she grinned from ear to ear, revealing the missing tooth in her smile before she shouted "Monkey in the middle!"

On cue, all the Arc sisters quickly dropped whatever they were doing and formed a loose circle around Jaune who tried to intercept his sketchpad before Sable could start the 'game' it but he wasn't fast enough as it flew out of his reach and into the twin's collective hands.

"Jade! Hazel! Please give me back my sketchpad." Jaune pleaded as he scrambled his way towards the identical pair.

The twins looked at each other and with a wordless signal, smiled mischievously and tossed the object into the air where it briefly sailed before falling into Saphron's hands.

"Come on Saph, not you too." Jaune groaned as his sister just stuck her tongue out at him before throwing the sketchpad to the next sister caught sketchpad and adjusted her glasses before flipping it open.

"Lavender! Don't look." Jaune shouted as he tried to tackle her only for Lavender to sidestep him, letting the boy fall unceremoniously onto the floor with a low groan. Ozma wondered where all that grace and coordination from earlier had gone.

"Really Jaune? Instead of helping us with the cleaning, you wasted time doodling." Lavender commented until she reached his latest creation and was surprised at how realistic the beowulf looked before dismissing it when she saw the stick figure next to it.

"Oooh, what did Jaune draw this time?" the youngest sister asked.

"Just the usual stuff, Amber. Nothing to get worked up over." Lavender said as she tossed the sketchpad to Amber who decided to look herself.

'Jaune, perhaps you should negotiate with your sisters for your sketchpad.' Ozma suggested after taking pity on his host.

"Negoshi-wha?" Jaune blurted out, thankfully none of his sisters heard him as they were preoccupied laughing at him.

'Right, forgot your age for a moment there. Why don't you ask what your sisters want in return for your sketchpad.' Ozma explained again.

'Huh, good idea. Thanks Mr Ghost!' Jaune said.

'You are quite welcome.' Ozma said as he sighed in mild annoyance.

"Okay, okay! You win!" Jaune called out to his sisters, "What do I have to do for you to give me my stuff back?" He quickly regretted his words when his sisters suddenly huddled up and whispered conspiratorially with each other for several moments before they collectively chuckled and made their demand.

(Several minutes later)

"Okay kids, I found the camera!" Mrs Arc announced as she came into the living room with said camera in hand. "I hope you're all ready to take the photo."

"Hey mom!" Coral called from the sofa where Mrs Arc saw the rest of her daughters had congregated. "We've finished up cleaning up earlier and we're just putting the finishing touches before we're ready."

"Good work kids." Mrs Arc stated as she looked around the near spotless living room. "Though what do you mean by finishing touches…oh."

Jaune had a deadpan look on his face as he held his sketchpad which had the word 'HELP' written on it. However, it seems he had already given up on getting it as he let Amber finish tying the two ribbons that she wore earlier around the two pigtails that he now sported, courtesy of his other sisters.

"So? What do you think mom? Think it'll be good enough for a spot on the mantle?" Saphron asked as she sat upside down on the sofa with her feet propped up on the sofa. Juniper Arc wanted to scold her daughters for teasing their brother so badly but she couldn't help but find the whole scene adorable.

"Hmm, I suppose we do need to test if this old thing still works before we take the actual picture." Juniper winced a little when she saw the look of betrayal in her only son's eyes before it turned into a hauntingly hollow acceptance. She promised she'll make it up to him later but now, to immortalize this moment for the family album.

"Alright girls-" the Arc sisters giggled collectively at their eight 'sister' "-put on your best faces and three...two"

'Ozma…' Jaune said.

'Yes Jaune?' Ozma asked.

'I take back what I said earlier about it being a good idea.'

'Understandable.'

The camera then flashed, preserving this moment for future posterity, much to future Jaune's annoyance.