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It was hard to believe that it has been a year since Oscar had been revived. Surreal to know how easily he had gotten so use to his son’s new appearance, skin now deep orange in hue, glowing along the edges while white eyes seemed to somehow still be filled with such wonder and awe at the world, and floating everywhere instead of walking.
Oscar was different then most revives were. But then Oscar had always been different even back when he had been alive.
Like his speech or the way he acted.
Oscar communicated more with the noises he made rather than having an actual conversation with someone, which automatically made him different then the children his age, since that practically made Oscar semi nonverbal.
Semi because Oscar could speak, just not in full sentences like his son’s age actually could.
Words like “Papa.” and “Birds.”
Words like “Love you!” along with other words like, “Want to” and “No work!” —that one was always directed towards Oz whenever he worked too much —something he seemed to carry over as a revived too, it seems— and many other words that Oscar remembered and retained through Oz’s teachings.
Oscar also always had a different way of going about the world of Remnant then most did, and he didn’t act like the other children his age, didn’t act “normal”, because while other children were showing an interest in becoming a Necromancer like their families, Oscar found joy in playing with things that were shiny, he would run after daffodils blowing in the wind.
Whenever Oz found himself done with work and during the rare chances that Oscar wasn’t glued to his side, he would go out and look for Oscar, sometimes he’d find him not too far away, hiding in the walls to possibly scare him.
While other times he’d find his son happily giggling inside a box, or he’d play with the toys, Oz had gotten him when he was younger. He always was Oz’s ray of absolute sunshine, and hardly ever got angry or grumpy.
In truth, Oscar may be physically ten years old, but mentally, his son acted no older than five years old. Which didn’t deter Oz from adoring Oscar any less. No matter what Oscar looked like, sounded like or what his personality was, he was still his son, the very thing that kept Oz alive, his precious baby boy.
“Beep!”
Oz let a find smile grace his lips at the familiar noise, and no sooner had the noise sounded out did a head and a torso, orange in hue, popped up, phasing through his desk but still managed to scatter his papers in all directions in the air. He laughed while shaking his head, while trying to catch all his remaining documents, but his son merely blew them into the air higher with a deep inhaled breath. “Is this your way of telling me you’re bored, sweetheart?”
“Yes!”
He caught the last of his papers, much to Oscar's sadness that his little game was over, and sent them on his drawer, then he gently pulled Oscar out of desk from underneath his armpits and spun him around and held him securely to his side. “Well, it is a bit stuffy here, I would say.” Ozpin tapped a green finger to his chin, faking confusion. “What do you say we escape from here and go to the market, hm?”
Those white eyes suddenly filled to the brim with such joy and delight. Oscar let out a loud cheer and nuzzled the side of his face against Oz’s. “Beep!”
Ozpin smiled and returned the gesture with a peck to Oscar’s temple. “Alright.” He said, letting Oscar and watched as Oscar happily floated next to him. “Let’s go.”
They didn’t particularly need anything from the market, but Oz knew his son and he knew that Oscar just loved to look at things. Anything that caught his eye and grasped his boy’s attention. He had a system with Oscar, something that he carried over even now as a revived.
If something can catch Oscar’s attention for more then five minutes, then Oz knew that object, whatever it maybe would continue to do so, and that he wouldn’t have to worry about Oscar getting bored and never playing with it ever again.
So they went about the marketplace, passing by every stand and watching as Oscar floated by each of them, greeting the people and floating around.
Then while he was looking at brooches for his suit, he noticed that something had caught Oscar’s attention, he tilted his head and realized it was a bright and shiny necklace with green and orange studs embedded on the sides while a beautiful Opal gem was encrusted in the middle. Oscar always did have a love and admiration for all things shiny, he even joked that Oscar a fish to a lurer with how much he adored any crystal he spotted.
Oz smiled to himself, shook his head and went back to looking at the brooches, knowing that whatever had caught Oscar’s attention would keep him entertained until they were ready to head home.
Then as he bought and paid for his item, he felt a sharp pain pierce through his heart, he stumbled away from the stand, his back hitting the wall, and he clutched at his chest with his hand, his nails digging into his skin.
Immediately, he knew something was wrong, his instincts kicked in and his sought out Oscar, and his heart shot up into his threat and the air from his lungs disappeared when he realized that his son was nowhere to be seen.
Panic blindsided him, normally he would have tried to compose himself but instead he used that to guide him. The link, the very tether that connected Oscar to him, and he to Oscar, the thread that bound them together via his son being revived with Oz’s magic. He used his panic along with his link and followed it right to Oscar.
And what he saw once he found his son nearly sent him into a frenzy. There was Oscar, being confronted by a couple. A man and a woman. And Oz wasn’t stupid, one look at the skin tones, the woman’s eyes and the man’s distinct freckles and he knew that these were the people who brought Oscar into this world. And that revelation for some may calmed others down, made them think rationally but—
His eyes glowed green and his magic came forth without a second thought. He pushed the couple back then while wrapping an arm around Oscar and pulled him close.
Oz glared at them, and was unfazed when the man and woman's hands began to glow a deep orange in hue, the very same color that covered Oscar’s revived form as they moved into defensive stances. “I’ve spent years trying to think of what I was going to say if our paths ever crossed.” His anger towards them didn’t dissipate. “Years spent glaring in the mirror practicing the words. Ranging from the mirror shattering through my anger or throwing that politeness I am known for and delivering you both justice for the atrocity you did to a child.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself. Because Oscar was shaking and Oscar was so very scared and that was enough to not let his anger get the better of him. “But now that I face you both, I realize now that I have nothing to say but this; The hatred I have for you both is unmeasurable. And you will do well to never come near my son ever again.”
The woman looked ready to fight, “We never wanted him in the first place! He came to us, and we knew what he was just as we did back then. He could have been a wonderful Necromancer with our combined magic but instead he came out normal. Disgusting.”
Oh
They were really trying his sanity now.
His magic came forth further and he forced them down to their knees. His rage was on the verge of no return to the point where he was ready to hurt. But Oscar letting out a whimper and burying his face in his chest made him reel the temptation back.
Oz bristled, his hair standing on end as the rage was becoming far too much for him to control. “What is disgusting is looking at a baby —whom you are supposed to love unconditionally— and instead feeling nothing but contempt.”
He held Oscar tightly to him, protectively, whom let out another whimper of fear. And in that moment, Oz wished that Oscar wasn’t here, for what he was about to say next. “What’s disgusting is instead of choosing to give him to people that could take care of him. You choose to place him in a trash bag and abandon him in a field, because you knew he would die and you wanted him to. And I thank the Gods everyday that I found him because he’s better off with me then he would have been with the pair of you.”
The silence around them was deafening, a single pin dropping to the ground would sound like an earthquake. Oz was sure he had drawn a crowd towards them but he didn’t care, he wanted everyone to hear what these awful people tried to do to his boy.
Oscar let out a broken chirp and Oz forced down every urge to his magic. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t continue to have Oscar stay here. They needed to leave before things got out of hand. In one swift motion, making sure he had a secure arm around Oscar, he turned and began walking away.
But it seemed the woman had more to say to him, “Better off with you? That’s bold of you to say since he’s obviously revived.”
Oz stopped, and his magic sparked. He turned to her, his eyes glowing but she didn’t back down. Seeming glad that she got a reaction out of him. “You obviously weren’t any better than us. What gives you the right to judge us when he died in your care?” Her gaze turned to Oscar, her expression held nothing but disgust for the very boy she gave birth to. “And look at him now. He’s even different then the most common revives. I expect nothing less, he can’t even die correctly—“
A flash of deep green flared and in half a second, the woman and her husband were on the ground. Pinned there with his magic, he smiled at them, all feral and dangerous. “Let me make something quite plain. Oscar is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Before and now as a revived, he has and will never cease to stop bringing me joy. Because he’s my son and I love him with every ounce of me.” He looked at the woman with such disgust, he didn’t know it was possible to hate someone as much as he did Ironwood, “Revived or no, that will never change.”
His magic faded then and the couple went limp on the ground, Ozpin gave them one last look of disdain before turning around, taking Oscar into his arms and walked away.
The entire walk back to Beacon was spent in silence. Oz said nothing as he held Oscar tightly to him, hand rubbed up and down the boy’s back. He wished he could offer more comfort to his boy. But it was all he could do at this point, he felt far too exposed and vulnerable. His body trembled with relief, fear and rage that lingered still. And he had to close his eyes and hold Oscar tighter to keep himself grounded, throat too closed off to even mutter something even remotely reassuring.
Even Oscar, who was known for being a bundle of noises and joy, refused to utter a single word. Not a single ‘Beep! Beep!’ was uttered as they made their way back home, just clung to Oz and shaking uncontrollably. The little boy he adored with all his soul was silent and broken. And that made Oz hate his son’s birth… parents even more. Because they reduced his baby to this.
He gripped Oscar tighter. And ran the rest of the way to Beacon only sparing Glynda a glance before he rushed to his office and closed the door. Once there pressed his back again the dark wooden oak and slid down to the ground, everything sort of crashing into him all at once and he felt like he could finally breathe.
His office was dark. The curtains having been drawn in by Glynda making it gloomy, there was no light at all except for Oscar’s orange glow.
Oz pulled back and looked at Oscar, really looked at him, as he cupped his face. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice quivering. “Did they hurt you?”
Tears spilled down Oscar’s cheeks as his boy tried to open his mouth to make a noise or say no but all he could manage was a weak shake of his head, “Papa…”
His heart broke at the absolutely shattered expression on his son’s face. Tears swelled in his eyes as he cupped the back of Oscar’s neck and pulled him towards him. “Shhh,” He soothed gently, pressing his lips to Oscar’s temple and rocking them both, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
Oscar trembled in his grip, whimpering and letting out these pain cries and Oz couldn’t help but hold him tighter. “Papa! Papa!”
His breath hitched, his eyes burned at his as his eyes spilled down his cheeks, “Shhh, it’s okay, your alright.”
“Why?”
Oz ran his fingers through his son’s orange hair, “Why what, love?”
But Oscar simply let out another broken noise and shuttered, “Why?”
Do they not love me?
Even though his son never said the words physically Ozpin knew that’s exactly what Oscar was thinking.
And Oz didn’t think his heart could break anymore then it had already. “Oh sweetheart…” Fresh tears cascaded down his face, his heart shattering at the sheer destroyed anguish that his boy was going through and his buried his face into the croak of Oscar’s clothes and started to softly sing while his words were mixed with sobs
Oniwa ni iko
Nanika ga matteru
Sakasama ni natte, zutto matteru
And the song, as it always did, did a good job of calming them both down, enough for Oz to form a complete sentence. “I-I don’t know why they don’t, but I love you. I love you so much, with every part of me. My amazing, wonderful boy. And I promise, I’ll never ever abandon you like they did, never .”
Oscar let out another whimper and curled up further into Oz’s gentle but strong arms, “Papa… ”
“Shhh, it’s alright. I love you, I promise.” Oz pressed his cheek against Oscar’s temple, continuing to rock back and forth, then he began to hum the melody of the song.
Soredemo zutto, sonomama de iru
Sonomama dakedo, kawatteyuku
Mainichi kanarazu, honno wazuka zutsu
And together, curled up in each other’s embrace, they soak in the comfort each of them were giving, Oscar humming along with his beloved father.