Here we go.

Chapter 15

Qrow's mood could best be described as "complicated".

On the one hand, he was annoyed that he'd been selected to do this and further put himself on the old man's radar, even if – in hindsight – he realised it was almost predetermined. Their own teacher must have had a short list of students she was willing to let fight a Grimm if one appeared, and obviously the best student in class would be at the top of that list. The fact he had solid aura control compared to his peers only made the choice more obvious.

It was a pain in his ass.

But despite his frustration and despite the annoyance of having so many eyes on him, there was the adult teacher side of Qrow that couldn't help but praise their forethought. This field trip might be pointless for him, but it was a great opportunity for the other kids – both to teach them and to inspire them to buck up and work harder going into their last years so they could win a place here at Beacon.

He felt a little sad that the field trips had died out by the time he started work at Signal, because while Ruby and Yang had done just fine without them (a benefit of having your dad and uncle be both huntsmen and teachers), there were a lot of civilian-born kids who had graduated Signal without the same understanding of how the world worked. They hadn't been as prepared for life as a huntsman as they could have been, and it was probably the decision of some money-pinching committee somewhere who decided this field trip to Beacon was "wasteful" or "too dangerous" for the children.

All while they took home their inflated bonuses and drained the coffers dry. Bastards.

Qrow hefted Long Memory and took the end in hand like it was a fencing rapier. He'd seen Ozpin use it quite a few times – more when he was younger than older for obvious reasons. The edges may have been blunt, but the tip was reinforced and not sharp but pointed. Enough so that it could pierce through someone with enough force.

This was a juvenile Beowolf anyway. A juvenile Beowolf for a juvenile human.

And they'd called him "reckless" when he suggested capturing and bringing in Grimm for the kids to see. He hadn't even suggested making them fight them, just see them, and the School Board had lost their collective minds.

His peers (and he used the term lightly) were watching in nervous anticipation. There were some of them who were probably hoping he'd get knocked on his ass and made a fool of. It would have been convenient if he could pull that off and look less special to Ozpin, but given what the man knew about him, he'd only look suspicious. A child with potential was interesting, but a child with potential who was trying to hide that potential was a potential mole. Better to bite the bullet and get this over with.

Maybe this will impress Summer a little as well.

There was no "you may begin" or countdown with the Grimm, and the Beowolf lunged his way once Ozpin moved out of its range. The thing was small, angry and its roar was closer to an actual wolf's in volume than a Grimm. It slashed forward with its right claws, and Qrow tilted his left shoulder back, letting it extend past him and sliding into its guard. His right foot slid outward for balance, turning him into the creature's chest as he brought the cane around and between its open jaws, locking in place across the creature's throat and pinning its mouth open.

If there was one thing going for the Grimm, it was their solid centre of mass. They were heavy and squat, making it quite difficult to topple them. A lot of animals were a lot better designed than humans in that sense. Low to the ground. Beowolves were in many ways the anomaly as they liked to get up on their hind legs like this one had, and they just weren't designed like humans to balance that weight properly.

With Long Memory in the beast's mouth, he pushed back and into it, forcing the creature back on two hind legs that lacked the joints and spinal structure to properly balance its heavy body. Its clawed feet skidded back for purchase, but Qrow kept going, and sooner or later they lost the battle. Its upper half was bent backwards until it lost balance and crashed onto its back.

The students hooted and cheered.

Why? This wasn't over. Getting a Grimm on its back meant you had survived the first moments. Qrow rolled his eyes and swept Long Memory out from its mouth, smashing aside two fangs in the process. He stepped past its head and brought the cane up and down aiming for the beast's left eye, but it jerked its head aside more by accident than design, snapping at his ankles with its powerful jaws.

His aura could 100% withstand the bite but he hopped back anyway. Idiot kids trusted their aura to be the be-all and end-all but tended to forget that after the bite failed, the Grimm would still have your foot in its grip. That wasn't a winning recipe unless you wanted to have to wrestle the damn thing in the mud.

When the Beowolf tried to rise, he swept in again and slammed the cane into its left kneecap, then slid by and stabbed back into the back of its shin. Harbinger would have let him hamstring the thing, but Ozpin's weapon was a little too precise for that. Inferior, the egotistical part of every huntsman's brain whenever weapon comparisons came in whispered. Ruby might have been the weapons nut but every huntsman worth their salt had strong opinions on their personal weapons, and every huntsman was convinced theirs was the correct opinion. Qrow liked to think himself a little more reasonable but seriously…

Why not at least sharpen the edges of the cane…?

While the Grimm howled and stumbled again, Qrow found himself behind it and, with a two-handed grip, charged the thing with Long Memory held in front of him, wielding it more like a jousting lance than a cane, with the head braced against his chest and all his weight behind it. The weapon punctured through its back and into its chest.

And in what was probably a move much too smart for every student here, he did the very wise thing of letting go and jumping back.

Because felled Grimm were like trees.

And every student learned that the hard way at least once – including himself when he'd actually been younger. Sure enough, the Grimm toppled backward and crashed down on where he'd been, twitched once, and then went still.

It faded into smoke seconds later.

Their teacher's sigh of relief at not having one of her students get themselves smacked around by a Grimm came moments before the loud cheering and clapping of a bunch of kids who thought fighting Grimm was cool.

They're kids, Qrow, he reminded himself. There's no need to crush their dreams.

He really needed to calm down and enjoy his second childhood.

And he would…

Once he could get a hold of some beer.

"A good show," Ozpin praised, accepting his weapon back. "But I want everyone here to remember that Grimm come in all shapes and sizes. This was a very small one comparatively, and you must adapt your techniques to their size and strength. Now, can anyone tell me what Mr Branwen did well?"

A quick answer session followed that Qrow mostly ignored. Some of the kids got it right but there was a fair share of dumb answers too. Ozpin was mostly looking to teach caution, and he was doing a good job. Qrow may have disapproved of his subtle manipulations, but he had nothing but praise for his teaching style.

Raven fist-bumped him when he returned. "As expected of my brother," she said proudly.

Qrow tried not to let that get to him and failed. His sister had been such a bitch in the future, and he'd roundly hated her, but that didn't mean he hadn't loved her as well. They'd been close once, as they were now, and hearing Raven praise him in such a genuine manner had him smiling like Taiyang after he won a date. That stupid, gormless grin.

"You could have done it too," he said.

"Hm. But I have a weapon. What was his like?"

"Dumb." Qrow whispered a silent apology to Ozpin. "Didn't have a bladed edge."

Raven nodded. "Dumb," she agreed.

They were biased, Qrow knew. Both liked their swords, albeit in different ways. Harbinger was closer to a sword-scythe than it was either of the above, but it still counted. He often used it like a sword, whereas Ruby's weapon was absolutely scythe and sniper. She'd never have the upper body strength to carve a shorter weapon through a Grimm anyway, so something with a longer haft allowed her to use leverage to her advantage. The same way as how it was easier to turn a bolt if you used a spanner with a longer handle.

Damn he missed the kids…

Even that brat Jaune, and the creepy, pink-eyed kid with his overly excitable girlfriend.

Once Ozpin was through with his little lesson, he took them deeper into the forest and found a much larger Grimm – an Ursa – that he took on personally as a lesson. This wasn't an Ozpin growing into old age either, so Qrow got to see the skills twenty years of teaching had dampened. He was quick, confident, and moved like a fencer, darting in and out and thrusting with enough strength to cause huge, gaping holes in his foe.

"So cool!" whispered Summer, eyes shining.

Excuse me? I did the same being, like, a third of his age. Why is he cool and I'm not?

Raven snorted, elbowing his side. "Stop being jealous."

"Not jealous," he mumbled, jealously. Not only did Ozpin get Summer's instant approval, but the bastard was old enough to buy a beer. Yeah, Qrow wasn't jealous at all. Not one bit. "I just don't think it's so special a huntsman his age can beat a Grimm. Of course he can. Big deal. I took one down at fourteen."

"There, there." Raven rubbed his back like she was trying to burp a big baby. "I thought you were cool. Just because Summer doesn't is no reason to sulk."

He glared. The fact Raven said it at full volume, enough to have her friends giggling and Summer almost certainly hearing it, made him give his sister the middle finger. Summer kept her eyes ahead, either enraptured by Ozpin or entirely determined to pretend that she was so she wouldn't have to deal with what Raven had just said.

But there was a pinkness to her cheeks and neck, and Qrow had learned to read his team leader from years spent with her in Beacon. He knew the look of a Summer Rose internal panic attack when he saw one.

One step forward, ten steps back. Thanks, sis. Now you've convinced Summer I'm some creep with a crush.

And Ruby thought Yang was a bad sister when it came to embarrassing her. Yang hadn't inherited half her mother's ability to humiliate someone.

Summer wouldn't so much as look at him on the way back to Beacon.

/-/

Summer Rose was not having a panic attack.

It was just a mild case of anxiety.

Honest.

Her silver eyes remained locked ahead, taking in Beacon's wonders, and she wished she could force her ears to ignore the world around her with the same intensity. Raven's casual teasing of her brother had her burning hotter than the sun.

Did Qrow like her?

If anyone had said that before – about just about any guy – then Summer would have laughed them off. She wasn't pretty like the other girls. Her eyes were plain. They were just grey, like metal, which wasn't at all a rich brown or bold blue or striking green. It was just grey – almost clear when the light caught them, as if the world had decided she was too boring to have colour. Plus, she wasn't as big as girls like Raven in other areas. Areas that she'd heard boys say really mattered.

But he'd gone out his way to try and stop her bullies, hadn't he?

And he'd gone out his way to talk to her, to try and involve her, to be nice to her. Summer felt her stomach tie itself into knots, and it only got worse when she thought how she'd repaid all that effort with a brick wall. He was doing all that and she was ignoring him.

But it wasn't intentional! What was she meant to do!?

No one had prepared her for this!

Mom and dad had died early and left her with her grandparents, and grandma had passed a couple of years back before she could really impart any wisdom on how to handle boys. Grandpa would just tell her to "focus on her studies and ignore the boys" but that wasn't as simple as he made it sound! The boy was her friend (not that she'd ever admitted it to him or even talked to him properly) and he hung around her every day since she was now, for better or worse, one of Raven's crew.

Not gang. Crew.

It sounded less horrific that way.

Maybe I should talk to him…

But what would I say…?

I can't just pretend I never ignored him.

But if I say I ignored him, and he asks why. What will I say back?

M—Maybe I could just ignore him. Yeah, it'll only be three more years in Signal, then four more years in Beacon. Yeah, that's doable.

It wasn't doable.

Summer whined through gritted teeth.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" asked Raven.

"N—Nothing." Raven was about as socially responsible as a hand grenade, so Summer wasn't about to tell her of all people that she was embarrassed over Qrow. She'd go straight to him and tell him to his face.

"Don't tell me that Grimm got you nervous."

"What? No."

"Good. I won't put up with weaklings."

"You're going to have to save weaklings when you're a huntress," said Qrow, walking with his hands in his pockets and his eyes ahead. He was ignoring her now, which made Summer worry she'd upset him.

"Bah. I'll make them fight for their lives. Prove their worth."

"But Raven!" gasped Summer. "What if they're just children?"

"Children get a free pass, obviously." Raven rolled her eyes. Summer felt relieved. "No one expects children to be strong. Elderly, too. Nothing weak about growing old – that means you were a tough bastard to make it that far. But people in their prime should be able to look after themselves, even if it's just to stand their ground and try and fight back."

"But we're meant to save people…"

"And I will, but I'll let 'em panic a bit first. Give them a chance to prove themselves. Or at least to realise they can't be lazy fucks and rely on us all the time."

That still sounded awful, but she was at least saving people in this future example now, so Summer let it go. It was always hard to know how serious Raven was, especially since she said the craziest things at times. Her grandpa used to tell her kids will say a lot but not be able to back up their words, but it always felt like the Branwen kids could. Or they at least tried. Raven didn't always succeed, but she was more than willing to throw down with someone twice her size, even if she didn't win.

It, and her mature figure, was what drew so many boys to her.

And to Qrow, since she'd told them she'd date anyone who could beat him in a fight. There was still a challenge almost every day, though the field trip today had eclipsed it in everyone's minds.

And I should really pay more attention to Beacon than Qrow and Raven…

Though the way he'd fought the Beowolf had been kinda cool…

No! Bad Summer! No Qrow! No Raven! Beacon!

"Is my idiot brother bothering you?"

"NO!" Summer cried.

The whole tour group came to a stop.

Even Ozpin looked back at her, worrying that something had happened to one of the students. Summer wished something would – ideally, a big hole beneath her feet to swallow her whole. "S—Sorry," she said, laughing awkwardly. "I… um… remembered I left the oven on?"

Ozpin blinked. Several students snickered.

Raven turned to her, deadly serious. "I didn't realise you cooked."

Because she didn't.

Summer shrank even further.

"Hm. Maybe you wouldn't be a bad fit for my brother aft—"

"Thank you, Miss Branwen." Beacon's combat instructor came to her rescue, and she could have kissed him for it. "But let's continue the tour and you can discuss culinary arts with your peers after. Here, we have Beacon's library…"

Summer glared at Raven, her face flushed red.

Stupid, idiot Branwens! All of them!

/-/

Eventually, the tour came to its inevitable conclusion, and everyone was allowed a half hour to explore a very limited section of Beacon. It was really the main hall, a training room, and the library, but it felt like an adventure to a lot of the kids. Summer dragged Raven off to look around and left him alone.

Their teacher from Signal collapsed onto a seat, exhausted.

Qrow felt the same way honestly. These kids had too much energy.

"Mr Branwen. May I have a quick word?"

Ugh. Ozpin. The man was smiling at him – and that rarely meant anything good. He'd approached without the teacher from Signal, his cane under his arm and pinned against his side.

"Sure thing," he replied, trying to sound relaxed. "What's up?"

"I wanted to have a brief chat about your fight today. You handled the Beowolf with confidence. You weren't even remotely intimidated by it. Tell me, have you fought Grimm before?"

"Yeah." A lie would just look obvious, and Ozpin had hundreds of years' experience in spotting them. "I've fought them before."

"When you and your sister were on your own?"

"No. Before." Another truth. "We mostly did our best to avoid them when we were on our own. It wasn't that hard. They make a lot of noise, and we were moving as fast as we could, so any that were drawn to us probably missed us."

"Hmm. Before, you say. It's not unusual for huntsmen parents to take their children on a curated hunt. Is that what happened with you?"

"Yes."

Two truths, one lie. Qrow hoped using that would help keep Ozpin off, or at least make him wonder which of them was the lie. "Though our parents weren't huntsmen, not officially anyway. They wouldn't have stood up to proper huntsmen. They just knew how to fight if it came to it. They didn't go seeking out Grimm or anything."

"What were their names?"

Looking to go through old school records, are you? Good luck.

"Bran and Wen."

Ozpin frowned. The names sounded made up, but even he had to know a kid wouldn't tell such an unconvincing lie. "The same as your last names?"

"Where we lived, people didn't have normal last names," Qrow explained. "You got named after your parents."

"Ah, so Branwen means son and daughter of Bran and Wen." Ozpin smiled again. "I've heard of places that still use such naming conventions. It's actually very old-fashioned, though not quite as old-fashioned a when people were named for the crafts they did. Fisher, Cooper, Carpenter, and so on."

"Yeah. Kept things easy, I guess, and we didn't live in a big place, so I guess no one needed more specific names. We never knew our grandparents, and we just knew our parents as mom and dad, obviously. Never thought to ask their last names. Everyone called them by their first, same as we did everyone else."

"I see. You said they could fight…"

"Not properly. It was more like everyone could put up some resistance if Grimm appeared."

"A communal defence?"

Qrow shrugged. Again, it wasn't a lie since the tribe always did that. Grimm were unavoidable, especially when you created suffering by attacking villages. "I guess so. It was more about swarming Grimm and doing enough damage before they killed too many people. A few were stronger than others, but our parents weren't on the strong end or anything."

"Unlike the two of you."

"We're not strong. We're just harder workers."

"A strength in its own way," said Ozpin, proving more determined than Qrow would have liked. "But I suppose the two of you have had to grow up quickly, so learning that you have to work hard is expected. I have to say that you don't seem entirely challenged by your classes."

Ah, piss. Qrow grimaced.

"It's not uncommon to have students who, for one reason or another, grow beyond their age. There are provisions to let them test ahead—"

"No thanks."

Ozpin looked surprised. Then again, most kids were probably like Ruby jumping at the chance, especially when they were high on awe after coming to see Beacon. "No? May I ask why not?"

"I'm not leaving my sister and she isn't ready."

"Such loyalty," said Ozpin, smiling. "But I could also see her testing ahead on practical subjects—"

"Nah. Ray is a good fighter but she's behind on a lot of other stuff. I'm not leaving her or making her suffer more with harder lessons. Plus, she'd be in danger. Moving ahead means we're closer to fighting Grimm. I'm not risking her like that."

"I understand that, but your skills might stagnate—"

"I spar with people above my year. I'm fine."

"That may be—"

"Drop it, old man," Qrow snarled, unable to keep the growl out his voice. Ozpin appeared startled by such emotion. Scowling, Qrow shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to excuse it. "We're not ready, and you forcing us to be ready is going to get one or both of us killed."

Yang flashed through his mind, curled up on the ground hugging a bloody stump of an arm.

"And don't you dare take this to Ray! Yeah, she'd agree, but then she'll get herself killed trying to fight something she can't, and I'll be on my own and I will take that personally." He glared at Ozpin. "I'm happy where I am. Raven has friends. Real fucking friends who aren't just assholes clinging to her because of how good she is, or cruel bastards looking to lead her astray. And she'll throw them away if you dangle power in front of her, but is that what you want? Is that what you think is best for her? To learn that the best way to ger stronger is to use and discard people when they're no longer useful? Because that's not what I want her to learn."

Ozpin looked shocked. No doubt he was analysing this from a million different angles. Qrow scowled and decided to throw the man a bone.

"We'll be coming to Beacon anyway in a couple of years. And we'll be even stronger for having taken our time getting there. It's not like I'm going to sit around jacking off for three years. I'm gonna be training hard and so will Raven, in-between learning to be an actual good person even if I have to shove happy experiences up her ass by the fistful." Qrow snorted. He'd do it, too. "So leave off, old man. Have some patience."

"…" Ozpin sighed. "I see. Your reasons aren't unfair, though I'll still be recommending to your teachers that you at least take combat classes with the year above."

He just couldn't let off, could he?

Typical Ozpin.

"But there is one thing, Mr Branwen. I am thirty-five years old. I hardly think this classifies me as an old man, so I'll thank you not to say that."

Oops. He'd been talking to white-haired Ozpin for a while there. Qrow sighed.

"You're all old people to me," he mumbled, like a surly teenager might.

"Hm. You care for your sister, don't you?"

Qrow eyed him. "Isn't that obvious? You thinking she's my weak link? Because you'd be right, but I might not appreciate you trying to use it."

"I don't see love or loyalty as a weakness, Mr Branwen, and I certainly won't teach any potential student of mine that, either directly or through any actions of my own. Your concern for your sister's wellbeing impresses me. She is fortunate to have you looking out for her." He tilted his head. "Though, if I may ask, what is your interest in Miss Rose?"

Ah, come on. Couldn't he catch a damn break? Qrow groaned. "Is this about earlier?"

"I'll admit that was amusing, but this came up because Miss Rose's parents asked me to keep an eye on her. Her grandfather is getting on in age and can't always do so. I'd heard you got into a fight over her and that your sister appears to have adopted her. I'm simply asking what that's about as a concerned family friend."

Yeah, sure. Got to protect those silver eyes. Qrow let him off, though, since the more protection on Summer the better.

"I think she's a good person," he said, shrugging. "I'm hoping she'll rub off on Raven."

"Is that all?"

"Nice girl," he repeated. "But I'm not interested that way if that's what you're saying. I prefer my women like I like my alcohol."

"Illegally smuggled into Signal?"

Qrow snorted. That was quite the adult joke to throw at a kid his age, and he appreciated it. "Nah. I like 'em strong, cheap, and prone to leave me passed out in a ditch with a headache. Summer's the type to fuss and cover you in cushions and blankets."

Plus, she was taken. Summer would be Taiyang's wife.

"You're a strange child, Qrow Branwen."

"I like my sister; I like my friends; I like my drink. What's strange about that?"

"Most students your age are trying to smuggle porn into the school. Not alcohol."

"Isn't that worse? You can get weird ideas about sex and relationships from getting hooked on that stuff, and it can desensitise you and make you get into questionable stuff. I'd say booze is better."

"I think they'd rather you smuggle nothing in."

"Yeah, but you just said most students smuggle something, so I'd be an even weirder student if I didn't smuggle at least something." Qrow smirked, pleased he got to rely on dumb, childish logic for once. Ozpin looked lost. "So, what would you prefer?"

"How about a well-adjusted and mild-mannered young man."

"Okay. Sure. Best way to get that is to leave me in Signal surrounded by normal kids and with teachers that won't treat me like I'm special and feed my ego."

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over Qrow's head to the other teacher.

"Is he always like this?"

"Pretty much." The teacher had her feet up. "But he doesn't start food fights or attack upper years with folding chairs like his sister, so I'll take it. Lesser of two evils – both evils conveniently sharing the same name."

"Should my own teacher really be calling me evil?" asked Qrow.

"Should my own student be sitting here talking to people twice his age while the rest of the class is running around Beacon in awe?"

"I mean, it's just a building."

Ozpin looked like he'd been personally insulted by that one.

But at least he let the matter of moving up a year go.

Now if only he could convince future Ruby to not up and sell her soul the moment Ozpin set a plate of cookies on the table.

Bit of a timeskip incoming.

Next Chapter: 20th January

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