"Is he awake?"

"Do you think he ends up in someone's dreams if he faints?"

"I'm sure we'll find out." A young face, too young in Jaune's opinion, leaned over him holding a cup of coffee. "Back in the world of the living, Mr Arc? I do hope you found my floor to be a comfortable bed."

"Ozpin," Glynda chastised. "Curtail your sarcasm."

"But Glynda, I'm young again. I need to start learning to be hip and down with the kids."

"Please stop. You sound awful."

"Big yikes if true."

"Ozpin, I will kill you."

"This is a dream," Jaune mumbled. "This has to be a dream. This can't be real."

"That would be convenient," said Glynda. "I wouldn't say no to this being a bizarre dream either."

"I'm afraid it isn't." Ozpin, young and looking obnoxiously handsome with his cocky smile, hopped up onto his desk and sat on the edge, crossed one leg over the other and leaned an elbow on his knee. "For better or worse, given your opinion, I am now about thirty to forty years younger. I'm certainly not complaining."

"This is insane!" Jaune said.

"It is."

"This is going to blow up in my face!"

"It is."

Jaune scowled at the man. "You're supposed to be calming me down!"

"Ah, my apologies. Let me try again. Worry not, Mr Arc. I'm sure no one will raise an eyebrow at you having reversed time and cured ageing. There definitely won't be many old people begging you to do the same for them. Not at all. And you healed James' arm, implying you could heal just about every and all injuries. But I'm sure the world will be content to let you live your life normally and without interference—"

"He's having a panic attack!"

Arms wrapped around Jaune's shoulder and a hand under his chin tilted his head back. Oobleck's face filled his vision. "Look at me, Jaune. Calm. It'll be fine. We are going to be doing our best to hide your Semblance. Ozpin has simply rediscovered his youth and become something of an asshole. It's a midlife crisis. Ignore him."

"I resent that," said Ozpin. "You're being... uh..." He held up his scroll before him. "Salty? As in, the condiment? Hm. You're being salty."

The scroll flew out his hand via Glynda's Semblance and landed in hers. Closing down the page on new terms and generational slang, she tossed the device over her shoulder and crossed her arms. Ozpin sighed as it shattered on the floor behind her.

"Right, well..." Ozpin cleared his throat. "Onto business, then. Mr Arc, we did not bring you here to abduct you or force you into some research facility. This is to keep you in the picture since you're related to what is going on. I, or the old I, Ozpin, am to retire from Beacon Academy due to health complications. Meanwhile, Beacon will be welcoming a new combat instructor – Oswald."

"Do the names have to be so similar?" Jaune had to ask.

"Yes. It hides any mistakes of people calling me Oz, as I can claim it's just a nickname. Also, who is going to look at me and think I'm Ozpin? If needs be, I can claim to be his nephew or grandson. Glynda will become the new headmistress of Beacon Academy."

Meaning that Jaune had basically lost the headmaster his job and thrown the school into disarray.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"Whatever for? I'm more than happy with this change."

"I'm not," growled Glynda. "My workload has doubled. I shall accept your apology, Mr Arc, but know that I will remove your spine from your body if you cost me any more members of staff. And if you return me to my teenage years, I'll feed you to a Nevermore piece by piece."

Jaune winced. Apparently, becoming the headmistress wasn't much of a promotion, though it might have had something to do with the Vytal Festival being here, Cinder being around and the White Fang hovering in the background. He'd chosen the busiest time of the century to force a restructuring.

"It's not all bad news," said Ozpin. "Like this, I'm more than capable of joining the hunt for Cinder Fall. Qrow and I are already planning to search the city tonight. I'm also better positioned to take an active part in Beacon's defence should the worst come to pass, so from the point of view of the wellbeing of Beacon and its students this is a great boon." Ozpin – or Oswald now, he supposed – smiled and hopped off the desk. "I'll of course help Glynda with the added work as well, but the long and short of this is that we're not upset with you, Mr Arc. In fact, I'd like to offer my services in helping train you in the evenings."

Pyrrha wasn't going to be happy.

"Really? Why?"

"Because I think you and I could continue where we left off in conversation in my dream." Oh. That. Jaune still didn't believe. "This is an offer and not an order. You may feel free to take me up on it when and how you wish. And worry not, I won't be taking you away from your team."

"However," said Glynda. "You should probably be even more careful in dreams from now on. I'm not sure what you did to cause this in Ozpin and it may have had benign results here, but we really don't need you de-aging a student and turning them into an infant. Not when I'm the headmistress and will be tasked with explaining what happened to their parents."

"I was already trying to be careful!"

"Then try harder." Glynda sighed. "Oobleck will assist you. Go. We have far too much work to be getting on with. Tell your team nothing for now. An announcement will be made as to Ozpin's retirement later today."

/-/

"—and as a result of his diagnosis, Ozpin has retired from his position in Beacon, effective immediately, and asked me to take over as headmistress." Glynda stood behind the podium in the auditorium. She looked haggard in front of so many crowded students. "Your studies and lessons will not be impacted in any way, nor will the Vytal Festival. We thank Ozpin for his hard work and care over these past few decades, rising up from a combat instructor to become headmaster, but he had been intending to retire within the next few years already. Still, a round of applause please."

Jaune was the quietest in the crowd clapping, and only because it felt wrong to clap for someone he knew was doing just fine. The others were much more shocked. Ozpin had been old, sure, but huntsmen didn't often come down with diseases. It happened, obviously, but the sheer level of fitness in most huntsmen, old or not, meant they often had the physical health of someone twenty years younger. The average ninety-year-old huntsman carried six-pack abs and could wrestle a man in their prime to the ground with ease.

"As I shall be taking on new duties, we'll be welcoming a new professor to take over my role as combat instructor," said Glynda. "I would like you all to welcome Professor Oswald, your new head of combat instruction and physical studies."

Ozpin – or Oswald – strolled out onto the stage with one hand held high. He'd done away with his green suit to remove any comparisons to his former self and had instead gone for a black coat over a tight pair of dark blue trousers and a pristine white shirt with the top two buttons undone. With his tan skin showing off starkly against it, he looked exotic and confident.

"Oh no," said Yang. "He's hot!"

Ruby elbowed her side. "Not in front of Jaune," she hissed.

"It's fine," Jaune mumbled back. "He is hot."

"I know, right!?" Yang giggled. "Besides, I'd call Jaune an idiot if he didn't think Miss Goodwitch was hot. There's nothing wrong with admiring."

"Glynda is terrifying."

"Yeah, but terrifying can be sexy."

He couldn't disagree on that one. Nor could most of the crowd, because a lot of huntresses (and a few huntsmen) were suddenly very interested in their upcoming combat classes. In all fairness, Oswald wasn't just a handsome man. He'd been brought back to being around twenty, making him their age. He was almost certainly going to get pegged as one of those prodigies who could become a teacher to people his own age.

Ozpin, because Jaune didn't think he'd ever get used to calling him Oswald, walked up to the podium, shook Glynda's hand, then stepped up behind it. Jaune noticed he'd done away with his cane and now had two weapons – a thrusting sword wider than a rapier on his left hip, and a longer sword on a strap over his back. A bad place to keep a weapon for drawing, but this was Ozpin, so Jaune assumed there was a good and valid reason for it.

"Thank you. Thank you. I am Professor Oswald, but I'm happy for you all to call me Oswald. I'll be taking over from Glynda Goodwitch and pushing you all as hard as I can. Every single one of you needs to be ready for the challenges ahead, and I'm not referring to the Vytal Festival. By the time I am through with you, you're going to be some of the best around. I will not accept anything less than your best and I'll be pushing you hard. Thank you and good day."

"Thank you, Professor Oswald." Glynda took his place. "He will not be answering questions here but you can corner him in your combat lessons. He begins work today. Dismissed."

The teachers fled before the gossip bomb went off, and boy did it go off. Jaune barely escaped from the mass of excited students before it became a mosh-pit, and Team RWBY hadn't made it. He spared a brief prayer for their souls before abandoning them. His duty was to his team first and foremost.

"Jaune..." said Pyrrha, smiling kindly. Her voice was anything but. "Why do I have the feeling this is somehow your fault?"

"That man almost looked like a descendent of Ozpin," said Ren. "Similar facial structure. The same eyes."

"I think they're related," he said. "Miss Goodwitch mentioned that. A nephew or grandson. I can't remember which." Sweat beaded across his brow as the three of them stared at him with clear disbelief. "Look, I'm not allowed to say!"

"It totally was you, wasn't it?"

"I'm not allowed to say!"

"You got Velvet drunk last night, too."

"T—That sounds really ominous when you put it like that. Velvet made me get her drunk by imagining me as some stripper-waiter serving her drinks all day long." And he wasn't going to criticise her for it because it turned out she was actually quite the terrifying person when she wasn't having her ears tugged on. "Look, Ozpin was an old man. That's a fact. These things happen. What makes you think I was involved?"

"Because you were summoned to talk with him one hour before his retirement," Nora pointed out. "Explain that one, fearless leader."

Crap.

"He... He wanted to say goodbye to me in person...?"

All three of them rolled their eyes. "Look, I really can't say. I've been sworn to secrecy and this is a lot bigger than me. Bigger than us. Just... Just treat it like getting a brand new teacher. It's not something that's going to happen again."

"So, he is Ozpin...?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it!"

"No. You reverse implied it."

"That's called inferring," said Ren. "And you definitely implied he's the same teacher."

"I can't hear you. La-la-la."

"Man, Jauney is bad at lying," Nora giggled.

/-/

Combat class was an absolute shitshow.

And Jaune didn't use the term lightly.

On the one hand, everyone was more attentive than they had been in a while, not quite knowing how strict Ozpin – Oswald, damn it – would be and how much they could get away with. They were curious, too. There was an unwritten rule among huntsmen students that Jaune hadn't known until Nora explained it. That rule basically read as: "thou shalt not respect a teacher unless they kicketh ass". He was fairly sure Nora had paraphrased that, but that was the idea.

Miss Goodwitch had proven herself by not being afraid to levitate people with her Semblance, and by catching a falling building after a food fight. Anyone who had seen that knew not to mess with her. Doctor Oobleck and Professor Port got off by virtue of being teachers in theoretical lessons. They were smarter and knew more than the students, so you had to listen to them. A combat instructor had to be stronger than those he or she taught, however. Otherwise, no one would listen to them.

Oswald needed to prove himself to them if he wanted to be respected.

Evidently, Ozpin knew that.

"Good afternoon class!" Ozpin walked briskly into the room, his black coat flapping behind him. "I am Oswald, your new combat instructor. Let's get the basics out the way, shall we?"

He savagely drew his rapier and slammed it down against the floor, throwing out a shockwave of green light that struck Jaune like a truck. Everyone else, too. They were all thrown from their feet – even Pyrrha! – and send skidding onto the ground. Some hit harder, bouncing away, and Ruby, as light as she was, shot off like a shuttlecock to hit the back wall.

It was such a casually devastating display of strength.

And Ozpin was grinning wildly.

"You're here to learn to fight Grimm. Alas, we have little choice but to have you practice on one another, but humans are not your enemies. I'll mould you into capable huntsmen and huntresses, but for that I need your full attention. As such, let's get the posturing out the way. Who wants to be sent to the infirmary today?"

Yang's hand was the first in the air. Pyrrha was second.

Like a good boyfriend to one and partner to the other, Jaune groaned and raised his. He knew this was a bad idea but couldn't sit by and let them both get their asses kicked. More hands were raised, with about ten people all wanting a crack at him. Ozpin chuckled. "So many? Well, far be it for me to let you down. Come on up."

No one moved. "Who, sir?" asked Pyrrha.

"Why, all of you, of course." Ozpin looked entirely too happy at the idea. "Ten on one may be unfair odds, but I'll even them as best I can by not drawing my second weapon." He took a graceful stance with his rapier, bending his knees and hooking one arm behind his back. The way he balanced made Weiss seem like an amateur. "The match continues until none of you can continue."

"What about if we reduce your aura?" asked Yang.

Ozpin chuckled.

If someone were to ask him after what happened, Jaune's response would be to say he was assaulted by the colour green. In under ten minutes, he'd developed more hate for that colour than any other. Whatever Semblance Ozpin had, it was a bright one, constantly flashing and exploding before his eyes. It was offensive too, hitting like a truck, but it was the constant flashes that left him with an awful headache. He obviously wasn't the only one because Weiss was on her knees digging her thumbs into her eyelids to massage them, while Cardin was vomiting into a bucket.

Yang and Pyrrha had lasted the longest, go figure, but Ozpin was a veteran huntsman with some forty-odd years of experience now squashed into the body of a man at his prime. It was ridiculous. Not only did he fight better than they could, but he was fitter to boot. Laughing delightedly at his newfound youth, Ozpin caught Pyrrha's sword by the blade with one hand, dragged her in front of him with such precision that he caused Yang's fist to hit Pyrrha's shield on her other arm, then twisted and flipped Pyrrha over his shoulder, disarming her as he went, before sending the shield into Yang's chin like a frisbee.

The class had gotten used to seeing Pyrrha show extreme skill by besting teams four on one, and everyone suspected Glynda could incapacitate the whole class with her Semblance, but that was different. Stupidly strong Semblances existed – case in point being his own. It wasn't the same as seeing one person a couple years older than you manhandle ten people at once, including Pyrrha Nikos.

He's enjoying this, the bastard. Jaune groaned and struggled to his feet as Yang was bested in hand-to-hand and sent to the floor by a haymaker. This is like one of those bitter old grandads who complain about young people wasting their youth having the power to show us how it's done.

"Back on your feet, Mr Arc?"

"No."

Ozpin blurred forward and slammed a knee into his stomach, launching him into Ren and Ruby, who caught him and laid him down. "Lying is not a good trait, Mr Arc."

"You might as well stay down," said Ren. As if he needed to be told twice. "He's massacring everyone."

"H—How is Nora?" Jaune asked.

Ren pointed.

"My eyes!" howled Nora, rubbing them against another flash of light from Ozpin throwing some beam attack of all things into Yang. It hadn't even touched Nora, but the white-hot light had flashed before her eyes as it carried Yang away and blinded Nora. "I can't—" Nora bumped into Cardin, assumed it was Ozpin, and tackled him. "I've got him!"

Cardin, still queasy, gulped, spasmed, and then threw up.

Nora screamed like she'd just witnessed a murder.

"He's a monster," said Blake.

"Why aren't you fighting him?" Jaune asked.

Blake coughed, flushed, and said, "I didn't want to steal Yang and Weiss' thunder."

A likely story. Damn her for being smart enough to read the writing on the wall. Jaune slumped down among the remnants of his team as the battle came to a close. Yang was ignominiously tossed over Ozpin's shoulder and into a weapon rack, while Pyrrha failed to survive a hand-to-hand bout and was knocked to the mat. As her consciousness faded, Jaune caught the look of sheer bliss on her face.

Trust Pyrrha to be happy someone had manhandled her as easily as she did others. Though, to be fair, she was probably happy to know she had a lot to learn from her new teacher. Pyrrha loved to compete, but she was also about improving herself, and it was hard to do that when spars with the other students were so overwhelmingly in her favour.

"Well, that's a good start to the lesson." Oswald hadn't broken a sweat and was still smiling happily. "Is everyone else happy to accept that I have something to teach you?"

Everyone nodded, eyes wide.

"Does Mr Arc want another go at me?"

Jaune groaned in answer.

"Good! This was a refreshing warm up! Now then, is anyone too injured to train?"

"Um. Sir." Russel raised his hand. "Our team leader is throwing up. And now Nora is throwing up too, and it's making him throw up more. I think they're in a vomit loop."

"Separate them and break the loop, then." Ozpin was ruthless. "As for the rest of you, I think it's time we checked up on your stamina. Combat skill is meaningless if you can't endure. We'll be heading outside and you'll all be doing laps of the training fields."

"How many laps?" asked Blake.

"Ah, Miss Belladonna. That depends on you, doesn't it?" Ozpin drew out his scroll. "There's still an hour of our lesson left, so it's however many laps you can manage in that time."

It was cruelty, pure and simple. Jaune considered himself fit, even if he was nowhere close to monsters like Pyrrha, Nora or Yang. But even they were shaking and gasping by the time class was over. Constant running, for almost an hour, with no stopping and Ozpin jogging at the back threatening anyone he overtook with immediate push-ups, was one of the worst experiences of his life. Poor Ruby had it even worse, because while she could run faster than anyone else, she wasn't designed for long distances, nor for regular push-ups. Yang and he had to drag her between them, one arm in each of theirs and Ruby's feet dragging along the grass.

When the bell rang, everyone dropped. Blake curled into a ball and whimpered, and Ren just twitched, face down in the grass. Pyrrha was gasping for air, but somehow still smiling manically. He'd never hated her more than he did at that moment.

"Is that it?" Ozpin asked, drawing Jaune's hate – and most of the class' – his way. "I can't say I'm overly impressed with the stamina of you people. Back in my day—" He paused, realising that, ostensibly, today was his day. "Well, you'll need to get better. Luckily, I'm more than happy to hold lunchtime classes for those who want to catch up."

"As if anyone will do that to themselves," hissed Yang.

Pyrrha crawled over, smiling widely. "I think our team should sign up."

"I think you should shut up," Ren grumbled into the grass.

"Ah, Miss Nikos. I'll be glad to mark your team down as attending."

"DAMN IT, PYRRHA!" howled Nora. "Hey teach! Team RWBY wants—"

Nora didn't get to finish because Weiss threw herself at the redhead, wrestling her down with surprising strength and locking her hand over Nora's mouth. Blake joined in, fighting her down so she couldn't volunteer them.

"Everyone is welcome to join and improve," said Oswald. "My lessons will be open to all and a great chance to get ahead in the Vytal Festival..." He dangled the bait out, and transfers from the other schools looked conflicted. Agony vs success. Despair vs school honour. "Either way, we'll continue working on your fundamentals in the days coming. I fully intend to have each and every one of you capable of killing a Grimm both with and without your weapons. And yes, that includes you, Miss Rose. When I'm done with you, you'll be able to choke a Grimm with your bare hands."

"OSWALD!"

Headmistress Goodwitch stormed onto the field with her crop slapping against the palm of her hand.

"Ah, Glynda—"

"That's ma'am to you!" she hissed. "I have complaints from Oobleck and Port about students passing out in their lessons. What are you doing out here...?" She trailed off, looking over the devastated class. Someone threw up onto the grass. "Oswald..."

"Just a little physical training, Glynda. Nothing they can't handle. Why, back in my day—"

"My office. Now!"

"But—"

Oswald was swept off his feet and hoisted into the air by her Semblance. His eyes widened and he flailed about, but there was no escape. "You and I are going to have a discussion about how far you can and cannot push the students, Professor Oswald. All of you hit the showers." Glynda looked over them again and winced. "And take a thirty minute recess before your next lessons. Drink some fluids while you're at it."

The class didn't cheer. They just collapsed on the grass.

"This is your fault," Ren wheezed in Jaune's ear. "I don't know how, but this is all your fault. You and your stupid Semblance."

He couldn't even deny it.

But at least this was the worst that could come of it.

/-/

Thousands of miles away, Salem spat out a glass of wine as she stared at the news report presented to her by Arthur Watts, upon which "Ozpin" had retired and Beacon had hired "Oswald" or, as Salem better knew him, Ozma.

Not just her husband in the head of a new person, but her husband from several thousand years ago looking identical to he had back then. Not close to, not like, not a passing resemblance, but Ozma being the exact same man.

Worse still, someone had taken a video of him sparring with his class and using his Semblance. Except that it wasn't his Semblance at all – it was magic. The same kind he'd reduced himself to a sliver of when he made the maidens.

"C—Call Cinder!" she managed through choking coughs. "Get her on the line, on the Seer. I don't care if you have to send her a message by Nevermore. I want to know what is going on in Vale and why Ozma is back in his body once more!"

"Cinder has been having a little trouble of late so I'm not sure how much she'll know." Arthur was entirely too pleased with himself as he said that. "But I'll make the call as you ask."

Good. And Cinder had better have a good explanation, because she promised the fall of Beacon, the acquisition of the Relic of Choice and Ozpin's death – and what they'd gotten was Ozma regaining the strength he hadn't had for thousands of years.

"That fool girl better have a good explanation for this!"