"MOOOM!"
A small blonde missile launched off the porch with zero regard for physics or self-preservation. Summer barely had time to laugh before Yang slammed into her legs, arms locking around her knees. "Gotcha!" Yang declared victoriously.
A heartbeat later, a second, even smaller blur barreled through the doorway. "Mama!" Ruby followed at full speed, tripped on absolutely nothing, and face-planted directly into Summer's shins before popping back up and hugging her ankles like she'd planned it.
Summer bent instantly, hands steady and sure, scooping Yang up with one arm while ruffling Ruby's hair with the other. "Hey, easy troublemakers," she laughed. "I was only gone a few days."
"That's a lot of days," Yang said seriously, cheek pressed against Summer's shoulder.
Ruby chimed in. "At least six."
Summer smiled and kissed the top of their heads. "I'm back now."
Off to the side, Mateo had already clocked the incoming chaos and taken two respectful steps away from the blast zone. He leaned slightly into view and raised a hand. "Yo."
Tai Yang was standing just inside the doorway, coffee in hand, watching the scene unfold with a fond, familiar smile. Balance and harmony have been restored. He finally noticed Mateo and blinked. "…Oh. We have a guest."
"Temporary," Mateo said quickly. "Very temporary. I come with a present, your wife. She's… uh… only slightly wind ruffled."
Summer shot him a look. "Mateo."
"What? I'm not wrong."
Tai chuckled and stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Well, anyone who brings my wife home safe is welcome to stay long enough to get introduced."
Yang squinted at Mateo from Summer's arms. "Is he a bad guy?"
"No." Summer defended him and wondered where in the world she got the idea that she'd bring criminals home... even if she sorta did, but there's context!
Ruby tilted her head. "Is he good?"
Mateo grinned. "Eeeeeh, most of the time, but I wouldn't trust me around snacks."
Ruby gasped. "Dad! Hide my cookies!"
Summer laughed, adjusting her grip on Yang. "Alright, inside. Shoes off. And no roughhousing... Unless it's your father."
Yang slid down, Ruby released her legs, and both immediately ran back inside like their job was done. Summer turned back to Mateo with a softer smile. "Would you mind looking after Yang and Ruby for a bit? I need to talk to Tai."
"Oh yeah, I'm great with kids! Street magic, funny voices, I am a veritable super nanny. I'll have them calling me Funcle Matty by the end of the day."
"Don't teach them any songs."
"Don't teach them more than five songs, got it."
"Mateo."
He held up his hands. "I'm already inside," he said, retreating through the doorway before she could revise the terms of his survival.
The kids didn't notice the shift. Why would they? Mom was home. Everything was fine.
Tai did. He stayed on the porch with Summer as the door shut, casual posture hiding a Huntsman's attention. His eyes flicked to her shoulders. Her hips. Instinct, habit -- and then it clicked.
"No Sundered Rose."
"Something went wrong," she said. "I'm okay. We're all okay. But… yeah. We need to talk."
Inside, Ruby's laughter rang out, followed by Yang shouting, "DO IT AGAIN!"
Tai glanced back at the house, then at Summer. "We've got time."
"Good," she said. "Because this is going to take a minute."
---
Ruby, the energetic little cookie void, had spun up the minigun of questions.
Mateo and Yang both leaned back as the deluge began, words pouring out of the girl in a breathless torrent. Fortunately, Mateo had seen this coming and sat down before it hit. Yang, for her part, settled in beside him with the relaxed posture of someone watching a familiar disaster unfold.
"Hi again! Are you my mom's friend? Or like a work friend? Why are you tall? Did you eat your vegetables? Mommy says that makes you tall. Yang doesn't eat them, and she's still tall. What's your name? Why do you wear that weird jacket? Is it heavy? Can I touch it? I'm touching it. Do you have a weapon? Mommy's friends usually have weapons. Do you hide it? WHERE? Are you a Huntsman, or like… almost a Huntsman?"
Finally, a pause while she took her first breath in what felt like 5 minutes.
Mateo answered while Ruby took her first breath since the questions began.
"Hi to you too," he said, tone calm and practiced. "Yes, I'm your mom's friend, a new one, and we might be work friends in the future. As for being tall, there's a lot that goes into it, but yeah, eating your vegetables and drinking your milk definitely helps."
Ruby nodded solemnly, as if filing this knowledge away for future use.
"My name's Mateo Stalleón. I wear the jacket because it's mine, and it'd be a waste not to." He shrugged. "And no, it's not very heavy. Not for someone my size."
He slipped the jacket off and handed it to Ruby.
The thing practically swallowed her whole--sleeves hanging past her hands, hem dragging on the floor. She giggled as she wobbled under its weight, earning a snort from Yang.
"I kind of have a weapon," Mateo continued. "I just don't know how to fully use it yet. I don't hide it; it's both on and in me. Hard to explain. And no, I'm not a Huntsman. Not sure if I ever will be."
That was Yang's cue. "How do you 'kind of' have a weapon?" she asked, brow furrowing. "That doesn't make sense."
Fair, Mateo thought, suppressing a smirk. Because it doesn't.
Outwardly, he lifted a hand and formed a weak, palm-sized spiral of air. The tiny vortex spun lazily before he nudged it forward, guiding it toward Ruby. He kept the airflow steady, gradually increasing the pressure until her hair began to ruffle—then really ruffle—until she looked far closer to her mother's new windswept state.
"See?" he said lightly. "Little wind things. And… sparks."
He definitely wasn't about to call it alchemy. Ozpin already probably wanted him on a lab table for the wind alone; no need to make it worse.
Ruby, still trapped inside the jacket, waddled closer and plopped down in front of him, eyes shining. She fiddled with the glowing strips woven into the coat.
"Is this Dust? Does the jacket do something?"
"Not that I know of," Mateo replied. "But if you figure out something beyond looking cool, I'll make you a treat."
"Now then… the sparks." He scanned the room for a suitable victim. His eyes landed on a wooden block. "I'm still learning, but-"
A soft clap.
With careful movements, he pressed his hands to the block. The wood shifted, reshaping under his touch. A few moments later, he held up the result: a pudgy little cat. More cute than accurate, but he wasn't claiming to be Da Vinci.
"Taa-daa~"
He tossed it to Yang.
The blonde caught it automatically, then stared. Her six-year-old brain visibly struggled to reconcile what she'd just seen.
"…DO IT AGAIN," she demanded. "I didn't see when you swapped them."
---
About a half hour later, Tai and Summer came inside to find the living room… buzzing. Not loud--no screaming, no crashes--but full of energy in that way that meant something had grabbed the girls' attention completely.
Mateo sat on the floor near the coffee table, tapping a steady beat, singing "Can't Stop the Feeling!" -Justin Timberlake. Not belting it out, but confident, playful, clearly having fun with it. A subtle draft in the house, telling Summer he was using the wind to assist in the performance again.
"Ooh, it's something magical/ It's in the air, it's in my blood, it's rushing on (Rushing on)
Ruby bounced in place in front of him, spinning in a messy little circle every time the song hit the catchy part. She laughed every time she messed up her own rhythm. Yang had claimed the couch as her stage. She stood on the cushions, striking exaggerated poses, pumping her fists and singing back at Mateo at full volume--half on-key, fully committed. "I CAN'T STOP THE FEELING! SO JUST DANCE, DANCE, DANCE!"
Ruby skidded to a stop and looked up at him. "Sing it again! The fun part!"
Mateo laughed and looped back into the chorus, clapping this time. Ruby immediately joined in, missing every other clap but making up for it with enthusiasm.
Tiny wooden animals were scattered across the carpet--clearly abandoned in favor of the music--and one had been repurposed by Ruby as a "microphone."
Tai stopped in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "…So this is happening." It was catchy, like flu season, and soon he was bobbing along to the beat as well.
Summer smiled, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, he's got a bit of a thing for music."
Mateo finished the song with a little showman's bow from his seated position. Yang jumped off the couch like she'd just finished a concert.
"Again!" Ruby demanded.
"One more song!" Yang added.
Mateo held up a hand. "Alright, alright, one more."
Tai cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt the concert. Mind bunking on the couch tonight. I'll clean out the guest room tomorrow for you."
"Yeah! That'd be great! I apparently have an appointment with Ozpin at some point, right Summer?"
"Yup! I'll message him later to get a concrete time."
---
The concrete time was about a week later.
A week Mateo spent mostly looking after the kids. He still couldn't resist introducing the bell test. He had to get his own jollies in somehow, Judging by how hard Tai laughed, he didn't mind either. Said he might incorporate that into their training officially. Mateo almost felt bad.
The first attempt lasted all of ten seconds.
Yang charged straight in, all fists and confidence, only to find herself redirected by a sudden shift in the ground that sent her skidding past him. Ruby fared no better, overcommitting to speed and bouncing off a gust of wind that flipped her neatly onto her back. They tried again. And again.
Each time, the bell chimed just out of reach, always close enough to tempt, always pulled away at the last second, occasionally followed by a teasing "OLE!". Frustration mounted fast--especially once Yang realized Mateo wasn't even moving much. He just danced, hands in his pockets, adjusting the space between them with lazy effort.
They only won when they stopped trying to beat each other to the bell.
It happened more by instinct then on purpose: Ruby darting low, Yang going high, both converging at once. Mateo blinked, genuinely surprised, before the bell finally rang. He laughed, applauded, and immediately declared the test complete.
The prizes came later.
Mateo returned from town with supplies. Ruby's reward was a fresh baked double chocolate chunk cookie studded with white mocha chips and drowned in caramel drizzle, so large she had to hold it with both hands. When he gave it to her, she stared up at him with wide, reverent eyes, as though one of the Brother Gods had personally descended to bless her.
Yang demanded her own payment in installments: stories, songs, and a rotating collection of small alchemy-made constructs. He also made everyone Ukeleles' with his alchemy. The wood was easy to supply, and he will sooner die than admit to Summer where her missing cutlery went but he needed to make the strings. Though she may be plotting Mateo's murder anyway for giving her husband and two children musical instruments only one of them can play semi-decently.
All things considered, it was a good week.
A private bullhead trip to beacon left him in the good graces of the Glynda Goodwitch and her pair of great googly mooglys. She was his one of his strike zones before all this, having to go through teen hormones, AGAIN, certainly did not help. Thankfully adult brain caught him slipping before anyone else did.
Finally, he was sitting across from the reincarnate eternal.
Honestly? Ozpin had always been one of his favorite characters. Even after it came out that—objectively—he was kind of dumb. Or maybe deliberately dumb. The sort of wisdom that came from knowing everything about nothing and letting the universe trip over itself. Just so he could still be surprised now and then.
A slightly less prank-loving Oogway.
…Or maybe more, actually.
Because really—letting Jaune Arc into Beacon had to be a prank.
There was no way Beacon's admissions process didn't include document verification. Probably automated. Probably boring. And yet Ozpin let the kid in anyway. Then launched him off a cliff after watching him panic about not knowing what a landing strategy was.
And when Jaune didn't splatter?
Ozpin just leaned back and watched.
Either that—or he'd seen the name Arc, squinted at it, and gone, Huh. I served with his great-great-great-great grandmother. Absolute badass. Those genes have to be rattling around in there somewhere.
Something like that.
Ozpin folded his hands atop his desk, smile mild, eyes anything but.
"Mr. Stalleón," he said pleasantly. "I've heard quite a bit about you. And then, when I went to verify that information…" His gaze sharpened, just a touch. "I found nothing at all."
He tapped a finger once against the wood.
"No records. No birth. No schooling. No travel manifests. Atlas, Vacuo, Vale, Mistral—even Menagerie came up empty." A pause. "You are less than a ghost. More like… a rumor someone forgot to finish telling."
Mateo blinked.
Then he smiled, because that was easier than doing literally anything else.
"Wow, you make 'Who the fuck are you?' sound pretty friendly."
"Yes, I suppose I do. Takes decades of practice. I won't force an answer. Saving one of the few people I trust, earns you that much. But I would like to ask about the things you may be able to tell me."
"Such as?"
Ozpin's smile didn't change, but the room seemed to grow quieter around it.
"For instance," he said mildly, "where you learned to manipulate atmospheric pressure with that level of precision. Wind Dust produces turbulence. Yours does not."
He lifted his cane slightly—not threatening, not casual. Observational.
"And then there is the matter of transmutation," Ozpin continued. "You reshape matter without glyphs, without Dust, and without Aura flaring in any recognizable pattern." A pause. "That narrows the list of explanations considerably."
Mateo leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. "You say that like there is a list."
"Oh, there is. Most of them end poorly."
He studied Mateo the way a teacher studies a problem student—less for the answers given, more for how they were reached.
Mateo nodded, as if that explained everything.
Then he leaned forward and began rummaging through his coat with exaggerated seriousness, pulling out various objects and placing them carefully on Ozpin's desk.
A ukulele.A giant cookie.A somehow still-steaming cup of tea.
A lit Molotov cocktail—which he glanced at, blinked, and sheepishly slid back into his coat instead of adding to the collection.
After a moment, he produced a strangely patterned fruit—spiraled, vivid, wrong in a way that made the air around it feel mildly offended.
He held it up between two fingers.
"I wouldn't say I learned how to do either of those," Mateo said. "Same day I took a bite out of this cursed thing, suddenly I can do cool wind tricks and change the shape of stuff."
Ozpin's gaze dropped to the fruit.
The cane tapped once against the floor. Thoughtful. Measuring.
Mateo pointed at it with his free hand. "Also—don't eat that. Seriously. I don't want to be accused of poisoning the headmaster of a Huntsman academy."
"…Fascinating," Ozpin said. Then, without warning, he took a sudden left turn. "How do you manage to keep all these objects in those pockets?"
Whether it was a tactic meant to trip him up or genuine curiosity, Mateo didn't know—and didn't particularly care.
"Is that your Semblance?" Ozpin continued. "Now that Summer has unlocked your Aura."
"Hm? No. I could do this before." Mateo shrugged. "You learn a thing or two about smuggling in my—hopefully former—line of work."
Still not a lie.
He hesitated, then tilted his head. "As for my Semblance… I've got maybe an eighth of an idea." He grimaced. "I can feel—bad vibes, I guess? And convert that into energy." Better to lay the groundwork for Cursed Energy now. Mateo thought.
Ozpin hummed softly.
"And so the questions grow," he said, pleasantly. "I can't say I've heard of a Semblance quite like that." His eyes lifted back to Mateo. "And I've seen more of them than you might think."
"As for a change in your employment," Ozpin said gently, "I understand you do not intend to formally become a Huntsman."
It wasn't a question. Nor was it an accusation. Merely an acknowledgment—one that quietly confirmed he was aware of Mateo's… unofficial plans.
"If that should change in the future," Ozpin continued, "my doors remain open. Beacon has a long memory, and it is not ungrateful."
He folded his hands atop the cane.
"For now, however… if you wish to wander. To travel Remnant as a minstrel of sorts—helping where you see fit, answering to no banner—I am willing to provide you with modest starting funds."
"On the condition," Ozpin added calmly, "that you agree to a few terms."
1. "You will not act in Beacon's name, nor imply my endorsement. If you choose to intervene, you do so as yourself—and bear the consequences of that choice."
"Okay, That's fair."
2. "I will not track you. But when convenient, you will allow yourself to be found. A letter. A visit. A conversation. I'll provide a scroll for you if you do not have one."
" Appreciated, I can practice playing Ultimate Huntsmen..." Yang had crushed him mercilessly, but you can put money that if it was Smash bros. or Mario Kart... No, he isn't salty, he just would have liked to have known that there was character tier list first and played on even terms.
"You will not train, empower, or 'gift' abilities to minors without consent from guardians—and oversight. Summer sent me a recording of the Bell game... creative, subtle... Hilarious to watch."
"I can't take credit for that one, but yeah it's pretty funny."
=================
Hiya! The internet fairies finally arrived and fixed my connection! I can finally write this in the comfort of my own room. Not in a cafe or bent over my front porch to steal my neighbors wifi.
I will say now is the time to start commenting on what the second world will be. Please. I will also be slowing down on posts to maybe 1-2 chapters week. Slightly chonkier. I'm building a shop to sell goods out of so I need to make those actual goodies most days.
If you're reading this, please let me know in some way. Power stones would be nice, but we're also barely getting started. Reviews will be read... just please don't crush my soul. I'd for the most part just like interaction, hell some memes would do just fine.
Actually, please send memes, I like the funny.