My Point of View

"You're playing a dangerous game, Mr. Orr." Professor Ozpin observed, taking a slow sip of hot cocoa from his favorite mug.

I leaned back in the chair across from his desk.

"I like a challenge, Ozzy."

Ozpin's eye twitched almost imperceptibly.

"So you often remind me."

"I do."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Besides, I had to get her back."

"Oh?"

"She made me clean the girls' bathroom."

Ozpin lowered his mug.

"...She did."

"She did."

"And your response was to put her profile on a dating application?"

I shrugged.

"Seemed fair."

Ozpin stared at me over the rim of his glasses.

"I struggle to follow your logic."

"There wasn't much logic involved."

"I had noticed."

I rested an arm on the chair.

"And if you hadn't asked me to help organize paperwork in your office, I never would've stumbled across her profile in the first place."

Ozpin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am beginning to question several of my recent decisions."

"That's called character growth."

"No, Mr. Orr." Ozpin replied dryly. "That is called regret."

I couldn't help but grin.

"I'll admit, though."

Ozpin looked up.

"I wasn't expecting anyone to actually swipe right."

Ozpin slowly lowered his mug onto the desk.

"...You mean to tell me someone did?"

I nodded.

"Yep."

A long silence settled over the office.

Ozpin looked toward the ceiling for a brief moment, as if silently asking the Brothers for patience.

Then he looked back at me.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Ozzy?"

"...Please tell me you at least informed Professor Goodwitch."

"I did."

Ozpin visibly relaxed.

"She'll find out at seven."

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

Ozpin closed his eyes.

"...Mr. Orr."

"Yes?"

"I believe you may have finally succeeded."

"In what?"

"In making me question why I became an educator."

I blinked.

"That seems a little dramatic."

Ozpin looked at me over the rim of his mug.

"Does it?"

"A little."

"You enrolled at Beacon less than a month ago."

"Sounds about right."

"In that time..." Ozpin continued, counting on his fingers. "...you have challenged Miss Nikos to a sparring match, argued with Professor Oobleck over a historical source, convinced Miss Valkyrie that waffles are superior to pancakes, somehow acquired detention while assisting me with paperwork, and now..." He gestured vaguely with his mug. "...you have arranged a date for Professor Goodwitch without her knowledge."

I considered it.

"When you put it like that..."

Ozpin waited.

"...It still sounds funny."

Ozpin sighed into his cocoa.

"I was afraid you would say that."

I smiled.

"I regret nothing."

"That much is painfully obvious."

There was a brief silence.

Ozpin set his mug down.

"So."

"So?"

"How exactly did this happen?"

"Well..." I began. "...you remember when you had me organizing the personnel files?"

"I do."

"Well, there was a profile picture."

Ozpin closed his eyes.

"I already dislike where this is going."

"I may have thought it'd be funny."

"You were correct."

I blinked.

"You're agreeing with me?"

"Oh, no." Ozpin replied. "I simply meant it is the sort of thing you would find amusing."

"Fair."

I leaned back in the chair.

"Anyways, I copied the picture, made a profile, filled out the basics, and hit submit."

Ozpin stared.

"You truly thought none of this through."

"I thought one thing through."

"And what was that?"

"I made sure to list that she liked coffee."

Ozpin frowned.

"She does like coffee."

"I know."

"And reading."

"She does enjoy reading."

"And strict schedules."

Ozpin rubbed his temple.

"Yes..."

"I wasn't lying."

"That does not improve the situation."

"I also listed gardening."

Ozpin looked genuinely surprised.

"She gardens?"

"She has tomatoes."

There was a pause.

"She speaks to them."

Ozpin blinked.

"She... what?"

"I've seen her."

Another pause.

"...She doesn't know I know."

Ozpin slowly picked his mug back up.

"I have lived a very long life."

"So you've said."

"I have witnessed kingdoms rise and fall."

"I imagine."

"I have watched remarkable individuals accomplish extraordinary feats."

I nodded.

"Makes sense."

Ozpin took another sip of cocoa.

"And yet..."

He looked directly at me.

"...never have I met someone with such an extraordinary talent for creating problems entirely by accident."

I raised a finger.

"This one wasn't an accident."

Ozpin stared.

"...You intended this?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"That somehow concerns me more."

I grinned.

"Come on, Ozzy."

"No."

"She deserves to be happy."

Ozpin's expression softened, if only slightly.

"I do not disagree."

"She works too much."

"She does."

"She doesn't smile enough."

Ozpin glanced toward the office window.

"No."

"And she needs someone who can handle her personality."

A faint chuckle escaped Ozpin.

"There are very few people capable of that."

"Exactly."

Ozpin looked back at me.

"So this was your reasoning?"

I shrugged.

"Mostly."

"And the other part?"

"I was getting revenge for the girls' bathroom."

Ozpin couldn't help it.

A laugh escaped him.

Short.

Quiet.

But genuine.

"I suppose..." He admitted, shaking his head. "...that is at least honest."

"I'm many things."

"I know."

"A liar ain't usually one of 'em."

Ozpin nodded.

"That, Mr. Orr..."

He reached for another marshmallow and dropped it into his cocoa.

"...is one of the reasons I tolerate your antics."

I smiled.

"I knew you liked me."

"I did not say that."

"You implied it."

"I most certainly did not."

"You did in spirit."

Ozpin sighed.

"I believe our conversation has reached its natural conclusion."

"You kicking me out?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough."

I stood, slinging my satchel over my shoulder.

As I reached the office door, Ozpin spoke once more.

"Oh, and Mr. Orr?"

I looked back.

"Yes?"

"If Professor Goodwitch asks..."

He paused just long enough for a small smile to appear.

"...I was never here."

I laughed.

"Deal."

With that, I stepped into the hallway, leaving Ozpin alone with his cocoa.

A few seconds later, I heard him sigh.

"...I really am getting too old for this."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I stepped out of Ozpin's office.

The old man had a sense of humor.

He just buried it beneath several layers of professionalism and hot cocoa.

Adjusting the strap of my satchel, I changed direction and headed toward the academy's rooftop instead of my next classroom.

There was no point pretending I didn't know what was coming.

Goodwitch wasn't the type to yell.

She was the type to wait.

To smile politely.

To let you think you'd gotten away with it.

Then she'd make sure you regretted it at the most inconvenient moment possible.

Which, in this case, would almost certainly be Combat Theory.

I could already picture it.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Since you seem to enjoy creating extra work for others, today you'll be demonstrating against the entire class."

Or worse.

She'd pair me against an entire team.

Knowing Professor Goodwitch, probably Team RWBY or Team JNPR.

Maybe both.

I grimaced.

"Yeah... no."

The rooftop it was.

At least up there I'd have a few minutes of peace before my inevitable execution.

Well...

Educationally sanctioned execution.

There was a difference.

Probably.

The stairwell was quiet.

Most students were already in class by now, leaving only the occasional echo of footsteps somewhere below.

I climbed the final flight and pushed open the heavy metal door.

Cool morning air greeted me immediately.

The rooftop stretched out before me, empty save for a few benches, an old weather vane, and the academy's flag fluttering lazily in the breeze.

Vale looked peaceful from up here.

The city bustled in the distance, ships drifted through the sky, and the forests beyond the cliffs swayed gently in the wind.

It was one of the few places on campus where nobody expected anything from me.

I walked over to the edge and rested my forearms against the railing.

"...Worth it." I muttered.

Even if Goodwitch eventually killed me.

A quiet chuckle escaped me.

"Definitely worth it."

I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen.

No signal.

As expected.

The thing had been reduced to little more than a very expensive clock, camera, notebook, music player, and library.

Still useful.

Just not for calling anyone.

I opened the music app for a moment before thinking better of it.

Instead, I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

The silence wasn't bad.

I'd grown accustomed to silence a month ago.

Closing my eyes, I let the breeze brush across my face.

No Grimm.

No shouting.

Just the wind.

Peaceful.

"Sweet child o' mine..." I sang softly before the lyrics faded into a quiet hum.

My attention wandered across my little secret garden.

It wasn't much.

Just a few raised planter boxes tucked away on Beacon's rooftop where almost nobody ever came.

But it was mine.

Rows of tomatoes ripened beneath the morning sun, their vines heavy with fruit. Potatoes rested beneath the loose soil, while neat lines of carrots poked their feathery green tops above the earth. A small patch of corn stood proudly near the edge, rustling gently whenever the breeze rolled across the rooftop.

I'd never been able to stay away from growing things.

Guess that was the farm kid in me.

A familiar caw drew my attention upward.

"Well, speak of the devil."

The crow landed on the wooden fence surrounding the garden, cocking its head as it watched me expectantly.

"Morning."

It answered with another caw.

Reaching over, I plucked an ear of corn before peeling back the husk.

"Breakfast?"

The bird hopped closer without the slightest hint of fear.

I chuckled, breaking off a few kernels and setting them on the fence.

The crow eagerly pecked them up.

"Greedy little thing."

Every now and then another visitor would stop by.

A raven.

Larger than the crow and considerably more dignified.

The crow had developed a rather unfortunate fascination with my emergency flask.

Any time I brought it out, the feathered menace would swoop down and try to steal it.

Judging by the smell on its breath the first time it succeeded, I was fairly certain the bird liked whiskey.

"Little alcoholic." I muttered with a shake of my head.

My gaze drifted toward the opposite corner of the rooftop.

Resting there was a modest aquarium I'd pieced together over several weekends.

Inside, a handful of small fish lazily swam through the clear water while two frogs perched contentedly atop a tiny wooden sanctuary I'd built for them.

It wasn't anything fancy.

Just a little platform rising above the water with a sloped roof to keep off the rain.

Simple.

Dry.

Safe.

One of the frogs blinked up at me before letting out a quiet croak.

"Morning to y'all too."

For just a few minutes, the rest of Beacon disappeared.

"I really ought to give you and that raven names." I remarked offhandedly as the crow happily pecked away at the kernels of corn.

The bird gave a content little caw, entirely unconcerned with the life changing discussion it had just become a part of.

I rested my chin in my hand.

"Hmmm..."

My eyes drifted toward the spot where the raven usually landed.

"I could call the raven... Branwen."

The crow immediately stopped eating.

It let out an odd choking sound, flapping its wings once as if protesting the idea.

I blinked.

"...I'll take that as approval."

The crow gave me what looked suspiciously like an offended stare.

"Yeah, Branwen works."

I reached over and gently scratched the feathers on top of the crow's head.

"Did you know Branwen roughly translates to White Raven or Blessed Crow?"

The crow continued eating, seemingly deciding I was worth tolerating so long as I kept the corn coming.

"It comes from Welsh mythology. Branwen was the daughter of Llŷr and the sister of Brân the Blessed, the giant king of Britain."

I absentmindedly broke off another few kernels and offered them to the bird.

"She eventually became associated by some later traditions as a Goddess of love and compassion."

I sighed.

"Didn't really get a happy ending, though."

The crow paused for only a moment before continuing its breakfast.

"She also had a half brother named Efnisien."

I frowned.

"He was... not exactly a pleasant fellow."

Violent.

Cruel.

The sort of person who could ruin everything simply because he felt like it.

I shook my head.

"Doesn't fit you."

The crow looked up at me with one glossy black eye before letting out a quiet caw.

"Nope."

I leaned against the planter, studying my feathered visitor.

"How about... Grim?"

The crow tilted its head.

I tilted mine.

We remained like that for several seconds.

"...Yeah."

I chuckled.

"Too on the nose."

The crow cawed once, almost sounding amused.

I smiled.

"Man... why couldn't one of you be one of those talking crows?"

I looked toward the open sky where the raven usually appeared.

"You or Branwen."

A breeze stirred the leaves of the garden.

"At least then I'd have somebody around here who could argue back."

The crow simply stole another kernel of corn.

I studied the crow for another moment.

"How about... Odin?"

The crow looked up at me.

"Yeah, I know. He's usually associated with ravens, not crows."

I reached over and tossed it another few kernels of corn.

"But I think it fits."

The bird wasted no time pecking them up.

"Odin's the chief god in Norse mythology. The Allfather. God of wisdom, war, poetry, and magic." I said. "He spent his life chasing knowledge, even sacrificing one of his eyes to drink from the Well of Wisdom. He'd do just about anything to learn something new."

The crow paused just long enough to look at me before continuing its breakfast.

"I figured it was appropriate."

I smiled.

"Crows are some of the smartest animals on the planet, after all."

The bird let out a loud caw.

I raised an eyebrow.

"I'll take that as approval."

The crow cawed again.

Then looked down at the empty spot where the corn had been.

I chuckled.

"...Or you're just asking for more food."

Another caw echoed from above.

I glanced skyward just in time to see the raven gliding down from the academy's rooftop, its black wings catching the morning light before it landed gracefully on the fence.

"Well, hello there."

The raven regarded me with one sharp eye.

"I've got a feeling you heard that entire conversation."

It answered with a single caw.

"I thought so."

The bird hopped a little closer, giving the crow a sidelong glance.

I smirked.

"You know... you seem smarter than Odin over here."

The raven immediately let out a series of rapid caws that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

The crow puffed out its feathers and answered with one indignant caw.

"Hey, don't look at me." I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "I'm just making observations."

The raven continued its amused cawing.

Odin, meanwhile, looked thoroughly unimpressed.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well... at least one of you appreciates my sense of humor."

The raven finally settled beside Odin, folding its wings neatly against its body.

The two birds stared at one another.

Neither moved.

Neither blinked.

It felt less like watching birds and more like witnessing two old men silently judging each other.

"...You two done?" I asked.

The raven let out a quiet caw.

Odin answered with one of his own.

"I'll take that as a no."

Reaching into the basket beside the planter, I broke another ear of corn in half and offered each bird a few kernels.

"No fighting."

The raven delicately picked up a kernel.

Odin, on the other hand, simply shoved his beak into the pile and started eating like he'd never seen food before.

I pointed at him.

"See? That's why she gets called Branwen."

The raven glanced at me.

"She has manners."

Branwen tilted her head.

"You..."

I pointed toward Odin.

"...eat like somebody's going to steal your dinner."

Odin looked up, a kernel still clutched in his beak.

"...Fair enough."

I scratched the back of my neck.

"So..."

I looked between the pair.

"Odin and Branwen."

The names felt right.

"Well, congratulations."

Neither bird reacted.

"You've officially been adopted."

Branwen let out a soft caw.

Odin ignored me completely in favor of another kernel.

"About the response I expected."

A breeze swept across the rooftop, carrying the scent of fresh earth and tomato vines.

For a few peaceful moments, nothing happened.

Just the rustling of leaves.

The distant hum of Bullheads over Vale.

And the quiet pecking of two birds that had somehow decided my little rooftop garden was worth visiting every morning.

"You know..." I said quietly, watching the city beyond Beacon's walls. "I kinda get it."

Both birds looked up.

"People think silence is lonely."

I rested my arms on the fence.

"But it ain't."

I watched an airship drift lazily across the horizon.

"Sometimes it's nice not having anybody expect something from you."

Branwen hopped onto the railing beside me.

Odin followed a second later.

I smiled faintly.

"Course..."

I looked at the pair.

"...having company doesn't hurt either."

As if in agreement, Branwen gently nudged my shoulder with her beak.

Odin, unwilling to be outdone, hopped onto my forearm and immediately began investigating my jacket pocket.

"Hey."

I laughed, trying to nudge him away.

"There's no corn in there."

Odin ignored me.

"There ain't whiskey either, before you go looking for my flask."

The crow froze.

Slowly, almost guiltily, he looked up at me.

I narrowed my eyes.

"...You've been checking my pockets this whole time, haven't you?"

Odin answered with the most innocent caw he could manage.

Branwen, meanwhile, erupted into another fit of cawing that sounded uncannily like laughter.

"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked.

She cawed again.

I sighed dramatically.

"Great."

I looked from the crow to the raven.

"One feathered alcoholic..."

Then at the raven.

"...and one feathered troublemaker."

Branwen puffed out her chest proudly.

"...I have somehow attracted the bird versions of Andy and me."

Both birds cawed at the same time.

"So..." I said, looking between the two birds. "I may have set Professor Goodwitch up on a date."

Both Odin and Branwen froze.

Then, almost in unison, they started making what sounded suspiciously like choking noises.

I blinked.

"Y'all alright?"

Odin bobbed his head once.

Branwen gave a single caw before settling down.

"Aight then."

I leaned back against the planter.

"Anyways, I took her profile picture from one of Ozzy's personnel files and put it on a dating site."

The pair stared at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Branwen let out another raspy caw.

"I'll take that as judgment."

The raven puffed out her feathers.

"So here's my defense."

I held up a finger.

"She made me clean the girls' bathroom."

Odin gave an understanding caw.

"See? He gets it."

Branwen cawed again.

"Yeah, I know revenge isn't exactly the most mature response."

I shrugged.

"But that's only half the reason."

The joking smile faded into something softer.

"The other half is... she's lonely."

Both birds had gone quiet.

"She works herself to the bone."

I looked out over Vale.

"She comes in before everyone else and leaves after everyone else. Half the time I don't think she knows how to relax."

A small sigh escaped me.

"Everybody deserves somebody to come home to."

I looked back at the pair.

"Even if they'd probably throw a riding crop at you for saying it."

Branwen let out a quiet caw.

Odin hopped onto the fence beside me.

I smiled.

"So... if this actually works..."

I scratched Odin behind the head.

"...I'm counting it as a win."

Both birds cawed.

Whether they were agreeing with me or calling me an idiot...

I honestly couldn't tell.

"Well..." I said, dusting the dirt from my hands as I stood. "...I'd better get back to class. Goodwitch's lesson should be over in about five minutes."

Both birds watched me expectantly.

I smiled and set a whole ear of corn on the fence between them.

"There y'all go."

Odin immediately leaned forward.

I pointed a finger at him.

"Uh-uh."

The crow froze.

"You've already had more than Branwen."

Odin looked away as innocently as a crow possibly could.

"Be fair."

He let out a quiet, almost offended caw.

I turned toward the raven.

"And Branwen..."

She tilted her head.

"Be nice."

She answered with a soft caw.

"And don't hog it all."

Branwen looked from me to the corn.

Then to Odin.

Then back to me.

"I'm trusting both of you."

They cawed almost in unison.

"I'll take that as a promise."

With one last glance at my little rooftop garden, I pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped back into the stairwell.

As the door swung shut behind me, I heard an indignant caw followed almost immediately by another.

I smiled to myself.

"...That promise lasted all of three seconds."

Whatever agreement Odin and Branwen had reached had apparently lasted all of three seconds.

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, the academy had returned to its usual rhythm.

Students hurried through the halls carrying books and weapon cases.

Some chatted excitedly about their morning classes.

Others looked half asleep.

A pair of second years sprinted past me, one of them yelling something about forgetting a homework assignment.

"Been there." I muttered.

I checked the time on my phone.

Just under four minutes.

Perfect.

Professor Goodwitch's class should be ending any second now.

I rounded the corner and leaned against the wall outside the combat classroom, folding my arms as I waited.

The muffled sound of Professor Goodwitch's voice carried through the closed doors.

"...discipline is meaningless without consistency..."

Yep.

Still going.

A few moments later, the familiar chime of the academy bell echoed through the halls.

Almost immediately, the classroom door swung open.

Students began filing out in small groups.

Some looked exhausted.

Others looked relieved.

A few looked like they'd just survived an execution.

"See y'all later." I said, stepping aside to let them pass.

Most returned the greeting.

Some gave me curious looks, probably wondering why I was waiting outside instead of being in class.

I knew the answer.

And, more importantly...

So did Professor Goodwitch.

The flow of students gradually slowed until only one figure remained inside the room.

She stood at the front of the classroom, calmly stacking a few papers on her desk.

Without looking up, she spoke.

"You may come in now, Mr. Orr."

I blinked.

"...How'd you know I was out here?"

"I heard you talking to three different students."

"...Fair."

I stepped into the classroom, closing the door behind me.

The room was quiet now.

Rows of empty desks.

Training diagrams covering the chalkboard.

Morning sunlight pouring through the tall windows.

Professor Goodwitch finished arranging her papers before finally looking up at me.

There wasn't the slightest hint of annoyance on her face.

Which somehow worried me more.

"Well," I said, offering my best innocent smile.

"...This feels like a trap."

"It is."

"I appreciate the honesty."

"I thought you might."

She folded her hands behind her back.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Professor?"

"You wished to avoid my class."

I nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You knew there would be consequences."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And yet you chose to spend the morning gardening."

"...Also yes, ma'am."

For a brief moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, to my surprise...

Professor Goodwitch sighed.

"I must admit..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"...the tomatoes are coming along rather nicely."

I stared.

"...You've seen my garden?"

"I am a professor at Beacon, Mr. Orr."

She gave me the faintest hint of a smile.

"There are very few places on this campus I haven't seen."

"Well..."

I rubbed the back of my neck.

"...There goes my secret garden."

"There is one thing, however..."

Her smile vanished.

"...that I have not yet seen."

"And what's that?"

Professor Goodwitch's eyes met mine.

"You accepting the consequences of your actions without making a joke."

I sighed.

"...Yeah, that was asking a bit much."

Professor Goodwitch regarded me for a long moment.

Then, to my surprise, she began gathering a few wooden practice weapons from the rack along the wall.

"...That's usually not a good sign." I admitted.

"No."

She tossed a practice sword toward me.

I caught it by instinct.

"It rarely is."

The weight settled comfortably in my hand.

I gave it an experimental swing.

"Wooden?"

"I would prefer not to explain to Professor Peach why one of my students is bleeding on her freshly mopped floor."

"Fair enough."

She picked up another practice sword for herself.

Then, after a moment's thought, she set it back down.

"No."

She walked over to the weapon rack again.

This time she selected a simple wooden staff.

I raised an eyebrow.

"You're handicapping yourself?"

"No."

She twirled the staff once before planting its end firmly against the floor.

"I'm giving you a chance."

"Ouch."

"You'll survive."

"I hope so."

Professor Goodwitch stepped onto one of the sparring circles painted onto the floor.

"Take your position."

I obeyed.

The room fell quiet.

Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

Goodwitch studied me for several seconds.

"You know why you're here?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And why is that?"

"Because I put your profile on a dating site."

"That is one reason."

"...Skipped your class?"

"That is another."

I nodded.

"Makes sense."

She adjusted her grip on the staff.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Professor?"

"I expect discipline from my students."

"I know."

"I also expect honesty."

"I've been honest."

"You have."

She inclined her head ever so slightly.

"You never attempted to deny what you had done."

"No point."

"Why?"

"Because I'd get caught."

A faint smile ghosted across her lips.

"Practical."

"I try."

She tapped the end of the staff against the floor.

"However..."

There it was.

The however.

"...actions have consequences."

"I've noticed."

"So have I."

She lowered herself into a ready stance.

"Your punishment is simple."

I raised the practice sword.

"I'm listening."

"You will attack me."

I blinked.

"...That's the punishment?"

"You will continue attacking until you either disarm me..."

She paused.

"...or admit you're exhausted."

I frowned.

"That seems backwards."

"Does it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Explain."

I shrugged.

"You're one of the best Huntresses alive."

"So I've been told."

"You're also my professor."

"Yes."

"And you're asking me to attack you."

"Yes."

I scratched my cheek.

"...This still feels like a trap."

"It is."

"I knew it."

Professor Goodwitch's expression remained perfectly composed.

"You have a tendency, Mr. Orr, to rely on unconventional thinking."

"I've been told."

"Frequently."

"Well..."

I rolled my shoulders loose.

"...Can't say they're wrong."

She gave a single nod.

"Then show me."

I settled into my stance.

The practice sword rested lightly in my hands.

Neither of us moved.

The silence stretched between us.

Then Goodwitch spoke one final time.

"Oh..."

"Yes?"

"If you manage to land a clean hit..."

Hope flickered inside me.

"...I will consider forgiving the dating application."

I smiled.

"Now that's motivation."

Professor Goodwitch twirled the staff once.

"I thought it might be."

I inhaled slowly.

Then my grin widened.

"Aight."

For the first time since stepping into the room...

I stopped joking.

And lunged.

The distance between us disappeared in an instant.

I brought the practice sword down in a diagonal slash.

Professor Goodwitch didn't even flinch.

The wooden staff met my blade with a sharp crack, effortlessly redirecting it past her shoulder.

I pivoted with the momentum, reversing into a horizontal cut.

Again.

The staff intercepted it.

Not with strength.

With precision.

Every movement was economical.

Every block arrived exactly where it needed to be.

No wasted motion.

No flourish.

Just experience.

I stepped back, creating a few feet of distance.

"Not bad." I admitted.

"You sound surprised."

"I was hoping you were all bark."

"And?"

"You bite."

"Correct."

I rushed in again.

This time I didn't swing.

Instead, I feinted high before dropping low, aiming for her legs.

Professor Goodwitch planted the end of her staff on the floor and vaulted lightly over the sweep.

As she landed, the opposite end of the staff tapped my shoulder.

"Dead."

"I noticed."

"Again."

I smiled.

"Yes, ma'am."

We reset.

I circled slowly.

She remained still.

Watching.

Waiting.

She wasn't reacting to what I did.

She was waiting to see what I wanted her to react to.

That was annoying.

I lunged once more.

High.

Low.

Thrust.

Slash.

Step.

Spin.

Every strike was met with another clean crack of wood against wood.

Not once did she appear rushed.

Not once did she overextend.

After nearly a minute, I hopped backward, breathing just a little heavier.

"You know..." I said.

"Yes?"

"I think you're enjoying this."

"A little."

"At least you're honest."

"I expect honesty from my students."

I chuckled.

"Fair."

I adjusted my grip.

This time I slowed down.

Goodwitch noticed immediately.

"You're thinking."

"Usually gets me into trouble."

"It often does."

I stopped circling.

Instead, I began walking.

Casually.

Almost lazily.

Professor Goodwitch narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

Interesting.

She'd noticed the change.

"Trying something different?" She asked.

"Maybe."

I continued walking.

Not toward her.

Around her.

Watching.

Measuring.

Looking for habits.

Patterns.

She shifted her footing exactly twice.

Preferred her left foot forward.

Kept the staff centered.

Always recovered to the same guard.

Noted.

"Well?" she asked.

"You always reset to the same stance."

"So?"

"So now I'm curious if it's habit..."

I smiled.

"...or bait."

For the first time all spar, Professor Goodwitch's expression changed.

Only slightly.

One eyebrow rose.

"That's an observant question."

"I hunt."

"So you do."

Silence settled between us again.

Neither of us moved.

Then, without warning, I threw the practice sword.

Not at her.

Past her.

Professor Goodwitch's eyes instinctively tracked it for the briefest fraction of a second.

Exactly what I'd wanted.

I closed the distance.

Empty-handed.

My right hand shot toward the center of her staff.

She reacted instantly.

The staff twisted free of my grasp before I could secure it.

The opposite end struck my chest.

Not hard enough to hurt.

Just enough.

I stumbled back two steps.

Professor Goodwitch lowered the staff.

"...Creative."

I rubbed my chest with a grin.

"So close."

"You intentionally discarded your weapon."

"Yep."

"To disarm me."

"Yep."

She regarded me for a moment.

"I've never seen that attempted before."

"Did it work?"

"No."

"But it made you look away."

"For less than half a second."

"I'll take it."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Professor Goodwitch's lips before disappearing almost as quickly as it had come.

"I believe..."

She spun the staff once.

"...I'm beginning to understand why Professor Ozpin finds you so exhausting."

"I've been called worse."

"I have no doubt."

I bent down and retrieved the practice sword.

"Again?"

Professor Goodwitch nodded.

"Again."

This time, though...

I noticed she hadn't called the attempt foolish.

Only creative.

That was probably the closest thing to a compliment I was going to get.

"Stern of brow and sharp of tongue, a woman who wears control as armor finer wrought than any blade. She bends the world with but a wave of her hand, stone unto shield, rubble unto wall, and yet the hardest thing she bends each day is her own tongue, that it speak duty, and not the fear beneath it.

For she hath watched too many children march to war disguised as lessons, and buried her dread beneath lectures on tardiness, corrections of form, and the crack of a riding crop that saith, 'Mind thy footing,' when in truth it meaneth, 'I cannot bear to lose thee too.'

Order is not her nature.

Order is the wall she built, stone by stone, after watching too much of the world crumble before her eyes.

Call her cold, if cold be the only word thou knowest for one who loveth too fiercely to speak it plainly. She shall not weep before thee. She shall only remain, through every late hour, every wounded student, every burden laid upon shoulders too young to bear it, and call that remaining her own kind of vow.

For there are those who lead by love spoken aloud...

...and those who love by never leaving."

For the first time since we'd begun sparring, her composure cracked.

Not much.

Just enough.

Her eyes widened by the smallest fraction.

Enough.

I moved.

The floor groaned beneath my boots as I exploded forward.

The practice sword cut through the air in a swift diagonal arc.

Professor Goodwitch reacted on instinct.

Wood slammed against wood.

She caught the strike...

...but only just.

The impact forced her back half a step, the staff no longer meeting my blade with effortless precision, but with hurried necessity.

For the first time that morning...

I'd caught her off guard.

The corner of my mouth twitched upward.

"Gotcha."

Her emerald eyes met mine.

There was no anger in them.

Only surprise.

Then, slowly...

A very small smile.

"So..." She said, recovering her stance as though nothing had happened. "...using poetry as a feint."

I shrugged.

"You told me to think unconventionally."

"I did."

"You never specified it had to be with the sword."

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then Professor Goodwitch gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

"Well played, Mr. Orr."

It wasn't much.

Coming from anyone else, it would've sounded ordinary.

Coming from Professor Goodwitch...

It was the highest praise I'd received all year.

I couldn't help but smile.

"I'll take that."

"You should."

Professor Goodwitch settled back into her stance, the brief crack in her composure already gone.

"As gratifying as that was..."

She twirled the staff once.

"...the match is not over."

"I figured."

I shifted my footing.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"Does that count as a clean hit?"

"No."

"Ouch."

"You forced me to defend."

"I did."

"You did not land the strike."

"Worth asking."

Professor Goodwitch gave a slight incline of her head.

"I expected you would."

Silence settled over the room once more.

Neither of us moved.

She was studying me now.

Not my stance.

Me.

"You're observant." She said at last.

"I've been told."

"You notice details most students overlook."

"It helps."

"It also makes you unpredictable."

I smiled.

"That's generally the idea."

"No."

She shook her head.

"Most fighters become unpredictable through instinct."

She met my eyes.

"You become unpredictable because you study people."

That wasn't a question.

It was an observation.

"You watched my footwork."

"You always reset with your left foot forward."

"You noticed."

"You favor your right hand."

"I do."

"You disguise your stronger attacks by making them look casual."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"You're wrong about that last one."

"I am?"

"My stronger attacks look stronger."

I laughed.

"Fair enough."

Professor Goodwitch lowered the tip of her staff.

"You know..."

Her voice softened, if only slightly.

"...that poem wasn't entirely inaccurate."

The smile faded from my face.

"I know."

"How?"

I looked down at the practice sword.

"I pay attention."

"To everyone?"

"Try to."

"Why?"

The question lingered between us.

I considered answering with a joke.

It would've been easier.

Safer.

Instead, I sighed.

"Because someone ought to."

Goodwitch didn't interrupt.

"I've met a lot of people."

I rolled the wooden sword idly in my hand.

"Most of 'em wanted to be understood."

I looked back up at her.

"They just weren't very good at saying what they meant."

For the first time since we'd started talking, Professor Goodwitch's expression softened.

Only slightly.

"You're an unusual young man, Mr. Orr."

"I get that a lot."

"I imagine you do."

She planted the end of the staff on the floor.

"Your methods are... questionable."

"I've noticed."

"Your judgment is occasionally reckless."

"Only occasionally?"

She ignored the remark.

"But your intentions..."

She paused.

"...are rarely malicious."

I blinked.

That was probably the nicest thing she'd ever said to me.

"Thank you."

Professor Goodwitch nodded once.

"Do not mistake that for approval."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

She stepped back and rested the staff against the weapon rack.

"Your punishment remains unchanged."

"There it is."

"You will report to me after classes for the next week."

I groaned.

"For what?"

"You will assist me with equipment maintenance, organizing training records, and preparing tomorrow's lessons."

I sighed dramatically.

"So... paperwork."

"And cleaning."

"...You're getting revenge."

Professor Goodwitch's lips twitched upward.

"Perhaps."

I pointed at her.

"That smile says everything."

"What smile?"

"The one you just had."

"I have no idea what you're referring to."

"Uh-huh."

She folded her arms.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Professor?"

"If I discover my profile on another dating site..."

I straightened immediately.

"You won't."

"...or another application of any kind..."

"I won't."

"...or if you so much as imply to another member of staff that I am seeking companionship..."

I held up both hands.

"My lips are sealed."

Professor Goodwitch regarded me for another moment before giving a single nod.

"See that they remain so."

"Yes, ma'am."

I turned to leave.

As my hand reached the door, her voice stopped me once more.

"Oh, and Mr. Orr?"

I glanced over my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"...Thank you."

I frowned.

"For what?"

She looked out the window toward Beacon's grounds.

"...For believing I deserve to be happy."

Before I could answer, she returned to organizing the practice weapons.

The conversation was over.

I smiled to myself.

"...You're welcome, Teach."

Then I quietly slipped out of the classroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The classroom door clicked shut behind me.

I stood there for a moment, staring down the empty hallway.

"...Huh."

That had gone considerably better than expected.

I'd been fully prepared to be launched through a wall.

Instead, I'd gotten a week of paperwork.

Honestly...

I'd call that a win.

"Well." I muttered to myself. "Didn't die."

"That remains to be seen."

I looked up.

Professor Ozpin stood at the far end of the hallway, hot cocoa mug in hand as though he'd been there the entire time.

"...You've got a bad habit of appearing out of nowhere."

"So I've been told."

He took another sip of cocoa before walking over.

"I trust your conversation with Professor Goodwitch was... productive?"

"I still have homework."

"A promising start."

"She didn't throw me through a wall."

"That is also encouraging."

I slipped my hands into my pockets.

"She gave me a week of helping her after classes."

Ozpin nodded thoughtfully.

"A lighter punishment than I anticipated."

"She also complimented me."

"That..." Ozpin admitted. "...is considerably more surprising."

"I know."

For a few moments we walked together through the quiet corridor.

Students were already well into their next lessons, leaving the academy unusually peaceful.

Ozpin eventually broke the silence.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Ozzy?"

"You care about people."

I glanced sideways at him.

"I try."

"You also have an unfortunate tendency to hide that fact beneath sarcasm."

I smiled faintly.

"Can't make it too obvious."

"And why not?"

I shrugged.

"People expect less from the village idiot."

Ozpin stopped walking.

"So that's how you see yourself?"

I stopped as well.

"No."

I looked out one of the tall windows overlooking Beacon's courtyard.

"That's how I let people see me."

Ozpin remained silent.

"The loud mouth. The smart aleck. The guy who never shuts up."

I smiled to myself.

"People lower their guard around someone like that."

"They do. They laugh. They relax. They stop pretending."

I looked back at him.

"And when people stop pretending..."

"...you see who they really are." Ozpin finished.

I nodded.

"Exactly."

Ozpin regarded me for a long moment.

"An unusual philosophy."

"Works more often than you'd think."

"And what of yourself?"

"What about me?"

"When do you stop pretending?"

The question caught me off guard.

For the first time all morning...

I didn't have an answer.

A faint smile crossed Ozpin's face.

"I see."

He started walking again.

I fell into step beside him.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"You know..."

"Yes?"

"I think you're sneakier than Goodwitch."

Ozpin chuckled softly.

"I shall choose to take that as a compliment."

"It was."

"I suspected as much."

He took another sip of his cocoa.

"Oh, and Mr. Orr?"

"Yeah?"

"Professor Goodwitch asked me to remind you that your first afternoon of equipment maintenance begins promptly at four."

I sighed.

"...She knew you'd find me before I got back to my dorm."

"She did."

"She planned that."

"She did."

I shook my head, laughing despite myself.

"...Terrifying woman."

Ozpin smiled into his mug.

"Indeed."

Together, we continued down the hall, the morning sunlight spilling through Beacon's windows as another ordinary day at the academy carried on.

We reached the intersection where our paths split.

Ozpin paused.

"Well then."

"Well then." I echoed.

"I have a great many reports waiting for me."

"And I've got a date to accidentally not ruin."

Ozpin looked over the rim of his mug.

"...Mr. Orr."

"Kidding."

"I sincerely hope so."

"I won't interfere."

"That is all I ask."

I gave him a lazy salute.

"Catch you later, Ozzy."

He shook his head with an amused sigh before continuing toward his office.

"And they say I'm the one with gray hair." I muttered.

Turning the opposite direction, I headed for the dormitories.

Since I'd already missed the first half of Goodwitch's class, and my punishment had been handed out, there wasn't much point trying to slip back into the lesson now.

Might as well use the time wisely.

A few first-years passed me in the hallway.

"Morning, Alex."

"Morning."

One of them looked at me curiously.

"Didn't Professor Goodwitch call you into her classroom?"

"She did."

"...You alive?"

"Physically."

The student nodded solemnly.

"Emotionally?"

"...Jury's still out."

His friend snorted, and the pair continued on their way.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

Word traveled fast around Beacon.

By the time I reached Team AFAF's dorm, the hallway was deserted.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The room was quiet.

Three unmade beds.

A stack of textbooks on the table.

Andy had left a chessboard exactly where he'd forgotten it the night before, pieces still frozen halfway through a match with Francine.

"Figures."

I set my satchel on the table before walking over to my bed.

Leaning against the wall beside it was my guitar.

I stared at it for a few seconds.

"...Been a while."

I picked it up, settling onto the edge of the bed.

The strings were only slightly out of tune.

A quick adjustment fixed that.

I strummed a slow chord.

The familiar vibration filled the empty room.

Another followed.

Then another.

Before long, my fingers were moving on their own.

No audience.

No performance.

Just quiet music drifting through an otherwise empty dorm.

It reminded me of home.

Of evenings on the porch.

Of summer air.

Of fields stretching farther than the eye could see.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the melody carry me.

The peace lasted all of thirty seconds.

A knock sounded at the door.

I stopped playing.

"...Come in."

The door cracked open.

Professor Goodwitch stood on the other side.

We stared at one another.

She looked at the guitar.

Then back at me.

"...I thought you said you were returning to class."

I slowly lowered the instrument into my lap.

"I may have underestimated how long our conversation took."

Professor Goodwitch folded her arms.

"I see."

"...In my defense..."

"Yes?"

"I wasn't expecting an encore."

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then, to my surprise, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Mr. Orr."

"Yes, Professor?"

"You are remarkably fortunate."

"I've been told."

"That fortune will not save you from equipment maintenance at four o'clock."

"I'll be there."

"I know you will."

She gave a single nod.

"And..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"The guitar suits you."

Before I could respond, she turned and continued down the hallway.

The door clicked shut once more.

I stared after it.

"...Well."

I looked down at the guitar in my hands.

"...Didn't expect that."
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A/N: And done. kuwebby2, what do you think?