Happy New Year and all that jazz.

Chapter 13

The fight put on by the team wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything special either.

Maybe it was unfair for Qrow to think that. They were some of the best of their year, and they put on a fight that was practical and skilled, with none of the spinning attacks and flamboyant moves that he and the other teachers in Signal would groan about their students using in the staffroom. They knew their ways around their weapons and fought until their aura was low, adapting to their opponents and making every loss hard-fought. It was a good fight from a good team.

Of teenagers.

Honestly, Qrow thought it would be a pretty bad sign if any huntsman his age was impressed by anyone theirs. Oh, he could be impressed at their potential and their teamwork and impressed in the sense that some kids had surprised him by learning something quickly, but there was a vast difference between a Beacon student and a professional huntsman. It was why he'd never bought into those tournaments and the competition fighting scene. It was the kind of nonsense that impressed civilians. Huntsmen worth their salt found the whole thing to be awfully cringe and would only take part if they needed money.

Even then, a huntsman or huntress who had to lower themselves to sweep a competition for a cash prize was usually looked down upon by their peers. Unless you had a good reason like an injured teammate grounding you, or a new child to look after, you were going to be facing a lot of teasing from your friends.

Nicholas and his team were good, but they weren't anything special.

Not yet.

"That was so amazing!" Summer gushed.

"They're so strong!" Raven vibrated on the spot. "Ahhh!"

But, of course, he was surrounded by actual kids. Qrow was used to feeling alone when they acted like the children they were, but that didn't stop his eye twitching. "They weren't that good."

"Someone's jealous," said Raven.

"What? No, I'm not!"

"Is it because they showed off to Summer and you can't?"

"If you don't have anything intelligent to say then you shouldn't say anything at all." Qrow ignored Summer's panicked expression. Raven was not helping when it came to calming her down around him. "I'm just saying that they're not real huntsmen yet. That was a fight between students."

"Beacon students." Raven stressed that like it mattered, and it did, but not to someone like him. "I bet they could beat your ass raw."

"I bet you'd like it if he beat your ass raw, wouldn't you?"

"Fuck off!"

Raven's face burned a hot shade of red.

In the same way it was unfair of him to deride the team for their skill, it was probably unfair of him to verbally spar with someone almost thirty years younger than him, but the fact it was his sister made it easier. Besides, in the rare occasions she got one over on him, she basically won a thousand points to his one, so it evened out.

"There's nothing wrong with having a crush, Ray. Just make sure to use protection—"

"Seriously! Fuck you! I hope you die in the forest!"

Nicholas and his teammates came back to face the class.

"So," he said. "Any questions for us?"

Hands were raised.

Qrow just spoke out over them. "My sister would like to know if you're—ooooph!"

His knees hit the floor as the wind was blown out of him.

"—if you're experienced in more than one weapon," said Raven, smiling brightly through a flushed face and rubbing her knuckles. "Is it better to get good at one weapon or try and learn a bunch?"

"Good question." Even that small praise had Raven shuffling and Qrow snickering. "While it's good to have some variety, you need to be careful not to lean too much into it. A lot of huntsmen take time to master a ranged and a melee option, and it's not bad to know hand-to-hand in case you lose your weapon. There's an opportunity cost, though. Focus on learning too much and you'll be weaker in every weapon." He finished with a lesson Qrow had imparted too, too many times. Including to Ruby. "While mechashift lets you have multiple weapon forms, that doesn't mean you should cram your weapon with as many as is humanly possible. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Someone else's hand rose. "Are you single?"

"No." Nicholas kept a remarkably straight face. "I am not."

"He is," joked a teammate. "He's just crushing on some waitress so hard he considers himself taken. We've told him multiple times that a crush doesn't mean he's taken."

It was the older boy's turn to close his eyes and flush dark red.

A few more questions came and went, getting back onto the topic once the teacher accompanying them dragged it back that way. Qrow kept to himself for the most part. He'd been to Beacon and knew it in and out, but the others were excited and couldn't wait to discover it for themselves.

In his head, he mocked them for it, but he couldn't fault them. If anything, it was a defence mechanism. A lot of these kids wouldn't have what it took to get into Beacon, and it felt awful to be the one person here who recognised that. Well, not the only person. The team and the teachers knew the odds.

Signal would produce about a hundred graduates each year, as would the other pre-academies across Remnant. That was approximately four hundred students. Each of the academies took just forty. Ten teams. Some graduates would have family they'd apprentice under, and some would choose to take work elsewhere, but even with those few stepping out, but that wouldn't account for everyone. Out of four hundred, only one hundred and sixty would move onto an academy, leaving over two hundred to flounder.

They weren't doomed to have wasted their childhoods. There were other ways to become a huntsman than to go to an academy. Same as how there were other ways to become an accountant than go to university. They could work their way up under a more experiences huntsman or join an office – a grouping of huntsmen working together. They'd join as interns and could, with time, work their way up to take their licensing tests independent of an academy.

What Beacon and the other academies really did was offer the best preparation for those tests. The final exam in Beacon literally was the huntsman licensing exam that anyone could take if they paid a small fee. It was a standardised test across every city, and you didn't even need to have gone to an academy to do it.

But the point was the pass rate of an academy graduate was above 90% while the pass rate of someone from outside an academy hovered around 50%. What Beacon did was train people to succeed at said test, and to have a much better chance of surviving out in the cruel world of Remnant.

In that sense, it was invaluable.

Just not for someone like him.

It's kinda selfish taking a spot now that I think about it, but I'm not leaving Raven to fall into bad habits without me, and I'm not letting Summer die and leave Taiyang, Yang and Ruby on their own again.

He was a selfish man and he wanted Team STRQ back.

The concept of "fairness" could pass out in a ditch for all he cared.

/-/

Eventually, the question-and-answer session ended, and they were taken on a tour of Beacon to use up the time it'd take for the other half of class to get back from the Emerald Forest. Again, Qrow knew all the places already, though it was interesting to note little changes. A wing that would be finished when he arrived but wasn't yet, or how his nieces had gotten to eat in a larger cafeteria due to some investment from the SDC that'd happen sometime in the next decade or two. It was smaller for now, housing only half the school's population at the same time.

There were subtle differences in décor and colour as well. It would be thirty years or so between now and Team RWBY forming, and Beacon wasn't going to remain static the whole time. What really counted, however, was how much bigger it was than Signal – and it seemed even more so because it had fewer students. The tour group were in absolute awe, and even if Qrow didn't share in that, he felt his own happy nostalgia.

This was where Team STRQ had been formed. This was where his fondest memories lay.

He'd come on this field trip expecting it to mean nothing to him, but it was like taking a trip down memory lane. Better yet, it was teasing the fact that he'd get to experience memory lane again. Qrow ultimately found himself smiling as much, if not more, than the other students. He hadn't realised just how much he missed this place, and just how happy he was to be back.

And now I'll have to wait another three years to come here again.

Three years until Beacon. Three years until alcohol. Three years until legally approachable women.

Damn it all.

"Look at him," said Raven, elbowing Summer in the side. "He acts all cool and above us, but he's grinning as stupidly as anyone else."

Qrow flinched, but even that couldn't dampen his mood. "Look at you," he fired back. "Acting like I can't hear you."

"You're supposed to be able to hear me. I'm calling you out for being a Hippocratic."

"It's hypocrite. Hippocratic is the oath medical practitioners take to uphold ethics and standards across the profession."

"Ugh. You're such a nerd."

"Excuse me for understanding the language we speak…"

Raven's posse chuckled and went back to their own conversations. Summer was sat on the other side of Raven, and often kept his sister in between the two of them. It hurt a little, but he supposed she was still unsure what to think of his intervention in her bullying, and it wasn't like he could come up with a good explanation. His best idea had been to try and make it seem like it was a habit of his and intervene in more bullying – show Summer that he wasn't creeping on her but was just a genuinely good guy.

Unfortunately, there weren't many instances of it in Signal to act on. Faunus racism wasn't even as big a deal as it would become in the future. They were relatively recent to the end of the rebellion and Remnant was mostly at peace. The White Fang were considered good folk fighting for equality by most, and it wouldn't be until they turned violent and started with their terrorism that the sentiment toward faunus would begin to worsen, especially among the younger population.

The White Fang.

Qrow frowned and poked at his food. He'd been wondering if he should try and do something about them, only to run into the brick wall of "what" he could even do in the first place. It felt wrong to come back in time with future knowledge and not use it to try and better the world, and yet at the same time it wasn't like he'd come back in his prime or with any capability to change things. He was a kid. What was he meant to do? The White Fang had turned on its own former leaders to become a terrorist group, so they weren't going to listen to a child.

I could tell Ozpin, but could he even stop it? And telling him would mean having to tell him everything, and then I could kiss Team STRQ goodbye. Even if he agreed to keep me in Beacon and put us on a team together, he'd change things based on what I say.

It'd be small at first. He'd trust Raven less because she might betray him, push Summer harder because she'd be "more valuable". Use Qrow earlier for missions. Send him on jobs like he had I the future, until Qrow was so overworked that he didn't have time for his teammates, same as how he'd barely had time for his nieces or his blood brother. It wouldn't be malicious. Ozpin was just doing his best to protect the world.

But it'd ruin Qrow's plans.

I can improve the world in other ways, anyway. Hell, maybe the moment Raven has Yang, I should start browsing orphanages in Mistral. See if I can't adopt a certain girl before she becomes Salem's best agent.

The thought of becoming a father was more than a little daunting, but he'd be damned if he let Yang lose an arm because of that girl's rampage – and he couldn't go and murder a child for what they might become in the future. He was a teacher. Affirmative action. Focus on the affirmative action.

"He's off in his own world again. Idiot."

"I can still hear you, Ray."

"Then eat your damn food! I'm not carrying you if you collapse of hunger in the forest."

"You would. I carried your dumb ass through the winter."

"Fuck off!"

"There's my sister." He winked, and ducked the pea aimed for his head. "Maybe you should eat your own veggies before telling me to focus on mine." He smirked. "You Hippocratic."

Raven snarled and launched a fork at him.

Their teacher caught it. The woman was a former huntress, after all. Projectile cutlery was well within her capabilities. "No," she hissed. "You are at Beacon. Behave. That goes double for you, Branwen!"

"Which one—"

"Both of you! It's always the both of you!"

"T—They're sorry, Miss."

"Ah, Miss Rose." The teacher shook her head, mumbling under her breath as she walked away. "And you were one of the nice ones, too. It's such a shame."

Summer looked horrified. "I'm still one of the nice ones," she whispered.

"Nah." Raven slung an arm around her shoulders. "You're one of mine now. You're a badass bitch."

"B—But I don't want to be a badass bitch…"

"No one picks the badass bitch life. The badass bitch life picks you."

"But you picked me…"

"It was fate. Fate forced us together."

"I punched you through a window…"

"Yeah." Raven smiled nostalgically. "Yeah, you totally did." She bumped fists with a Summer that was still shell-shocked and horrified. "That was totally badass."

Summer whimpered.

"Alright, everyone." Ozpin clapped his hands to draw their attention. It still felt strange to see him holding his cane under his elbow instead of leaning on it. "Let's switch groups now. Those who stayed to watch the fight with me. We're going to explore the Emerald Forest!"

Raven, Summer, and the other kids practically trampled one another in their haste to reach him. Qrow followed at a sedate pace.

Really, it was just a couple of Grimm.

/-/

Ozpin disliked this.

Oh, he liked showing the wonders of the academy he'd built from the ground up to the next generation, and he took pride in their awe, and he felt joy to know these children wanted to become huntsmen and fight the good fight.

It was just the "field trip" part that he hated.

One of the biggest problems of an immortal life is that probability became statistical certainty. Most people went through their lives with a small chance of being struck by lightning, but when you lived a thousand lifetimes, that chance was increased a thousandfold. He had, in fact, been struck.

Though it had arguably been his fault for fighting with a spear in a thunderstorm.

Lessons learned.

Still, while most teachers did maybe twenty or thirty of these tours in the span of their careers, Ozpin had done nigh on three hundred. He'd seen the best and the worst classes, and he'd seen the best and the worst instances of the Emerald Forest. Sometimes it was so calm and placid that the kids never saw a Grimm, and sometimes it was so wild that he had to carve a path through them just to keep the children alive.

It was why they had students cull the forest ahead of time to try and help out.

But ultimately, the Grimm would be Grimm and you never knew what you were going to get. All he knew was that escorting rambunctious children through a Grimm-infested Forest had to be the definition of a teacher's worst nightmare. Most teachers had to contend with losing kids in a museum. His job was a little more stressful.

And yes, he'd lost children.

As in, they had died.

Probability was like that. Take enough classes out and something was bound to go wrong eventually. Luckily, it hadn't happened for over a hundred years, though there'd been close case where idiot children had wandered or thought they could take on a Grimm and left the group.

The kids this year looked better than that.

His accompanying teacher from Signal kept to the back of the pack to make sure none wandered off, and he walked at the front, talking about the forest and how the students would train in it. Most of the children were paying attention to him, while he had to split his attention between them and the forest itself. It wouldn't do to back into a Grimm while orating, and that'd be an embarrassing way to end up in a new host.

Idly, he sent a questing thought into his own mind in search of his current one.

But there was only silence.

The man who had originally been called Ozpin had been absorbed several years ago, and he still missed him dearly. They had merged, technically, but he'd kept his memories so that "merging" always felt more like devouring. He hated it more than he hated these field trips. Ozpin had always loved them, however. The man hated paperwork.

Ozpin – or Ozma – sighed.

"—and the forest provides an excellent but dangerous opportunity to hone your skills. No amount of study will ever be as valuable as live combat experience, but that comes with a danger of its own. There's nothing wrong with a bit of play or friendly competition in combat class – I encourage it myself – but out here, you are a huntsman in a world of Grimm and must take that seriously. Teams can and have lost members, and losing a friend you have grown close to is the worst pain a huntsman can experience."

It was a warning that every grown huntsman would understand but kids, obviously, didn't get it. This was like telling children to hold onto railings on a bus. They were all so certain that their balance would defeat gravity, and it was "cool" to stand with your hands in your pockets like you could spit in the face of momentum.

But there were always a few who had experienced loss.

Ozpin could see those ones nodding. Among them were the Branwen twins. Not unexpected given the loss of their family and their time in the wild. They were perhaps better prepared than anyone else here, especially Qrow from the reports he had been getting.

Setting himself as their guardian allowed him to receive constant updates on their progress. Raven was a wild and reckless girl always getting in trouble but showing a lot of potential if she could restrain her temper.

Though her teachers often despaired, Ozpin personally liked what he read. She was emotional, passionate, and hadn't withdrawn into a shell after what happened to her. Yes, the fact she'd formed a "gang" was a bit silly, but she was a child, and it was probably just make-believe, and he'd rather have a wounded child reaching out to make friends than withdrawing into a lonely prison of their own making.

He had hopes she would grow up to be a fine huntress.

It warmed his heart to know she'd befriended Summer Rose, too. Arthur Rose wasn't long for this world, the old man fast losing his battle with old age and soon to leave his granddaughter alone. The silver eyes lived on in Summer, and he'd been following her progress in Signal. Knowing she'd been badly bullied left a mark on his soul, but the teachers were aware and actively addressing it, so he hadn't intervened.

With Raven's potential and Summer's eyes, they'd make for a formidable duo if they were to end up on the same team. He'd have to see if he couldn't achieve that.

The third member, too, was an obvious pick.

Qrow Branwen looked disinterested in the forest. It was a curiously out of place reaction. Yes, the boy had no doubt seen Grimm before, and he'd helped his sister survive in terrain worse than this, but even then, Ozpin would have expected an element of panic or tension. Some small sign of alertness to hint at the traumatic experiences they'd had before. For someone who knew the dangers to look bored and at ease suggested either a worrying lack of self-preservation, or a startling amount of confidence.

Ozpin suspected it was the latter.

The boy was exceptionally skilled. Suspiciously so, or so some teachers had confided in their reports. There were few details on the family he and Raven had come from, and the children hadn't been forthcoming. Some suspected they might have been hermetical huntsmen, or even criminals living out in the wilderness. Huntsmen who had broken the law and taken to the forests of Mistral.

If so, that would not reflect poorly on the children, but it might explain things. Raven Branwen was aggressive in a way most children weren't, and not just in the sense that she was forward. The girl was fully willing to accept pain to end a fight quickly. A lot of younger people prioritised defence too much, having a natural aversion to pain. Similarly, Qrow was noted as being very reactive in his fighting, often allowing his enemies to make the first move and then countering them.

Again, it was a valid strategy but an unusual one for a child. You had to be willing to risk being hit to let the enemy strike first. Most younger students wanted to be the aggressor. The old adage of "he who hits first hits last" was drilled into many of them. You had to be noticeably better than your opponent to get away with giving them the initiative, and by all accounts Qrow was better than anyone else. Including kids who had been trained by huntsman parents.

The "raised by rogue huntsmen" theory was certainly looking most likely, but it ultimately wouldn't change anything. As long as they followed the rules and hadn't come to Signal with any strange notions, there wouldn't be a problem. Raven's idiosyncrasies were something she'd grow out of, while perhaps Qrow's were ones that he would grow into. Strange kids, for sure, but brimming with potential.

Not that he would dare risk letting a Grimm at them to test it.

His ears picked up the snuffling of a Beowolf and he raised a hand for calm. He got excited silence, which wasn't exactly what he was going for, but it would have to do. The other teacher drew their weapon. Ozpin was pleased by that.

"It seems we have a live Grimm in the area," he said, flaring his own aura to attract it. Once he could tell from which direction it was coming, he quickly placed himself between it and the children. "How many of you have seen Grimm in the real world?"

About half put their hands up.

Some might have seen them from the walls or from an aircraft's window, or even in captivity before they were killed. No one had really managed to capture and research Grimm, but you could cage them for an hour or two. Before they killed themselves slamming into the bars. Sometimes people would capture a Grimm and quickly let people pay to see it like some twisted attraction.

But most of these, he both imagined and hoped, would have seen Grimm because their huntsman parents had taken them out to watch one being killed. Alas, a few would have seen Grimm because they had been victims, and because they had seen others being killed by them. Remnant was a cruel place.

Luckily, the Beowolf was a small one. Reaching up to Ozpin's chest, it could best be called juvenile. His students had done a good job hunting down anything larger, and he'd have to ask the headmaster to thank them all for their hard work. It wasn't easy culling an area the size of the Emerald Forest so effectively, but they'd done just that.

"As you can see, this Grimm is of the Beowolf variety," he said, quite easily fending it off with his cane. He tripped it and drove it away from the children. Grimm were mindless enough to focus on him even when there was easier prey around, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

He'd rather the future generation came to Beacon both alive and not mentally scarred.

"Beowolves are often seen as simple enemies for huntsmen, but they are nonetheless exceptionally dangerous. They can roam in large packs, are quick and vicious, and few civilians can hope to outrun them. You mustn't underestimate them." He stepped aside and tripped it again. "As you can see, a lone Beowolf favours typically direct attacks in a straight line. They will lunge and attempt to rend with their claws and fangs. If they grapple you, they will push you down and attempt to tear you to pieces. Sideways movement is your best bet, though you'll need to be aware of multiple enemies if a pack threatens you."

The Signal students were in awe of his patronising treatment of the Beowolf. It really was just a small and helpless Grimm, however. This was nothing even the weakest of his students couldn't do.

Now came the hard part.

The part he hated.

"Does anyone here believe they have what it takes to challenge this specimen?"

So many hands went up.

Ozpin ignored those and glanced to the teacher. She knew her students best, and he trusted she'd select one who was more than capable of besting this Grimm. Ozpin would, of course, intervene if things went poorly, but he'd rather the Grimm be overpowered.

The teacher nodded her head. "Qrow Branwen."

The students groaned.

"I didn't even have my hand up…"

"I did!" howled Raven. "Maybe she mistook it for mine."

"I picked Qrow," said the teacher.

"But he doesn't—"

"Qrow Branwen," said Ozpin, cutting in and earning an irritated glare from the child. He felt bad, he really did, but this was just a case of not wanting an unprepared child to get hurt. The teacher almost always picked the best student because it was the least risk. "Step on up, young man. Do you want to borrow my weapon?"

Most children were caught between excitement, nerves, and fear.

The boy looked irritated, like this was a waste of his time. "Sure." He held his hand out, palm upward. "Might as well. Let's get this shit over with."

Ozpin's interest was piqued.

Poor Qrow. This is what you get when you're the nail that stands up.

Next Chapter: 13th January

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