Turns out I found the inspiration to write something else, huh? I have some hopes for this story, and I hope I can fulfill them.
'I remembered my first breath. It was grueling. Air burned my lungs, I could not see; my eyes were covered in blood and fluid.
My ear-piercing cries echoed without my command. I could not control myself, for the pain inflicted on me by the world the moment I was reborn was too unbearable.
My consciousness faded to black. And this way, years have passed, until I finally became conscious again, at my five year old.'
A small boy stared at his reflection in a river. His hair was brownish black, his eyes a shade of orangeish red. His hands held a small basket. This new life started too quickly, he had no time to make his early memories.
He was in a different world. He could not remember when and how he died, but he could remember who he was.
He was a guy who lived in an apartment, one he barely managed to buy. He lived paycheck to paycheck, but his life was not all that bad. He could afford what he wanted with some effort and eat healthy and fulfilling meals.
Thoughts about eventual death and demise were foreign to him. He had no reason to want to die.
Worse of it all, some parts of his memories were blanking. He could not remember his name, but he accepted the new one he was given. "Fawn, do I need to remind you to not walk alone?"
A stern voice called to him. He turned to look at her. She was tall, with black and wild long hair. Her eyes were just as stern as her voice but with some soft kindness to them. "No, Raven. I was just bringing back fruits I foraged."
Her gaze softened just a bit. She was Raven Branwen. Leader of the Branwen tribe. His surrogate mother, and proof that he was in another world. The world of RWBY.
Raven walked to him and ruffled his hair a bit. She picked a berry out of the basket. "Good rhetoric. I will forgive you this once. Do not walk alone and stand still like a prey again."
She spoke harsh words, but Fawn knew, or hoped, that it was just from a place of love. She started to walk back to the tribe. He followed after her. Her steps were a lot slower than normal, and she periodically stopped to check if he was following.
Raven was nothing like the image he had of her. She was… strange. Not bad, but he knew she wasn't good either. He had foreknowledge of the things she did.
But she was never a bad person to him. Harsh? Yes. A rough love type of person? Doubly so. But bad? She was not.
He could live with that. A small part of him wondered how much Raven "loved him" and how much was just her projecting Yang on him.
(scenebreak)
His life in the Branwen tribe was quite cozy and calm. They were not the ragtag bunch of misfits of the show but a type of clan. At least, people who look ethically close to Raven and himself. He helped adults forage for fruits and berries.
He was too small to help in the hunts yet or train for fighting. Just a six-year-old under Raven's wing. Today was his free day. He was in a makeshift classroom in a tent with about twenty children. He was the youngest amongst them.
They were quite welcoming and warm. Both his teachers and the other students. Unlike schools in big cities or sizable towns, they had the opportunity to know each other very well.
"Are you learning well, little Fawn?" One of his teachers said. His voice sparkling with warmth and brightness. He was a big man, with a stocky and strong frame, and tall too. His skin was covered with many scars, and his face had no hair outside of his hair and brows.
"Yes, mister Kemuri." Thus far, no one in the Branwen tribe was that evil. At least, he thought so. Kemuri was one of his teachers, he taught mathematics and history.
It was surprising to see the unfamous Branwen tribe teach those topics to children, given the reputation they had in the show.
"Fawn is alway hot on his feet, teach. He is taking things in stride." An older girl yawned lazily. She was a few years older than him.
Despite the age gap, she did not do well in academics. Not that Fawn would bring it up to her face; he would get beaten to a pulp.
"He is quick-witted, yes. But this does not mean he will understand all lessons." Fawn nodded. School was boring, but most of his time was spent outside of it since he had to help the tribe forage for food.
The thought of hunting anything in the future was a little daunting, but he would need to fight for his survival. Raven would not let him slack off in his growth, or let him have no blood on his hands.
He zoomed out in the lecture.
(scenebreak)
"Hey," The older girl from before came to him. He raised his gaze slightly. He was resting against a tree. A thick coat around his shoulder like some sort of blanket, as he was cooled by the tree's shade.
She sat beside him. "You are never bothered by the teacher. You never talk about anything in class. Are you some kind of totem or something?" Fawn looked at her like a confused puppy.
"You know? A totem? Those magical dolls made by Mistralian shamans."
'Ah.' Fawn knew those by the name of golems, but totems could also work. He was not familiar with Remnant's history and terminology just yet.
"I don't know?" The lessons were not particularly hard or enjoyable. He just answered what was asked of him automatically and went on with his day.
"Name's Rowan." Fawn nodded, not paying much attention to her.
The girl puffed and grabbed him by the arm with no resistance. "Stop being so boring! Let's play! The others will be playing as well!"
Fawn grimaced. He was not a fan of playing with children on games that would bore him endlessly. He sighed and made his peace. He had no choice but to follow her. She was bigger and stronger than him.
A beautiful sunny day shone above their heads.
Fawn smiled. Even if he was not a fan of what he was going to do for the next minute or hour, he had to admit that it would be a waste to just sleep the entire afternoon.
Raven stared at Fawn from afar. He was always such a shy and closed-off child, even to her. She did not know if he was going to stay closed off as he grew up, but she hoped not.
She did not want to see history repeat itself with a closed-off Branwen who never went to make friends or connect with others. "There is no point in crying over spilt milk."
The damage she had wrought upon others was already done. She could do nothing about it but hope the next generation of Branwen would do better…
That is it for now. I hope I will be able to keep up with both this story and A Noob Gamer.