Wake Up As Ozpin

Ozpin returned to his office and immediately regretted everything.

Because the moment he stepped inside, he saw it.

The paperwork.

It had multiplied.

Not literally—probably—but there was more of it than before. Why was there always more? Was there a Grimm that spawned bureaucracy? A Paperwork Beowolf?

He wouldn't be surprised at this point.

A sigh. He sat down, rubbing his temples.

Alright. Step one: Pretend it's not there.

Step two: Coffee.

Step three:—

Knock knock.

Oh no.

"Come in," he called, already bracing for disaster.

The door opened, and in walked—

Blond. Smug expression. Casual confidence.

Qrow Branwen.

Ozpin's soul left his body.

"Heya, Oz," Qrow greeted, flopping into the chair across from him like he owned the place. "You look like hell."

Ozpin smiled thinly. "You always know how to brighten my day, Qrow."

Qrow smirked, tipping his flask toward him. "It's a gift."

Okay. Okay. Think. This was fine. Qrow was Ruby and Yang's uncle. Huntsman. Alcoholic. Professional Disaster Man™.

More importantly—he and Ozpin were friends.

Or, well, real Ozpin and Qrow were.

Him? He was just some guy pretending to be an immortal chessmaster.

Qrow leaned back, boots propped on the desk. "So. You invited my niece to Beacon."

Oh.

That was this conversation.

Ozpin kept his expression unreadable. "I did."

Qrow took a swig from his flask. "Didn't run that by me."

"It was a last-minute decision," Ozpin said smoothly. "I had a feeling about her."

That wasn't even a lie.

Qrow exhaled. "Kid's a prodigy, yeah. But she's fifteen, Oz. She doesn't know what she's getting into."

Neither do I.

Ozpin simply nodded. "Most students don't."

Qrow frowned slightly, studying him.

This was bad.

Qrow knew Ozpin. Really knew him. He wasn't Glynda—who could be thrown off by strategic nonsense—but if anyone could tell something was off, it was Qrow.

Ozpin steepled his fingers, adopting his most mysterious-and-cryptic posture. "She belongs here, Qrow."

A pause.

Qrow narrowed his eyes. "You're doing the 'mysterious wizard' thing."

Ozpin did not move. "Am I?"

"Yeah. It's annoying."

Ah.

Qrow sighed, rubbing his face. "Look, I trust you—"

That makes one of us.

"—but if anything happens to her, I'm holding you responsible."

"Understood."

Qrow grunted, standing. "Alright. I need a drink."

"You are already drinking."

"Then I need more."

And with that, Qrow strolled out the door, flask in hand.

Ozpin exhaled slowly.

That could have gone worse.

Step Forty-One: Do not get exposed by Ruby's drunken uncle.

---

Step Forty-Two: The Tournament Situation

After Qrow left, Ozpin allowed himself exactly two minutes of peace.

Then Glynda stormed in.

He sighed. "What now?"

"The Vytal Festival Tournament," she said, slamming a stack of papers on his desk.

Oh. Right.

That was a thing.

He picked up the first document and scanned it. Brackets, event schedules, international guests—

Wait.

"…Why am I listed as a potential combatant?"

Glynda's eye twitched. "Because you signed a document approving Headmaster Exhibition Matches."

Oh no.

"I did what?"

"You filed the request last week," she said flatly. "Would you like to explain why?"

Would you like to explain why past me is an idiot?

He cleared his throat. "I believe… in setting a strong example for the students."

Glynda did not look convinced.

"You do realize that means you'll have to fight in front of thousands of people, correct?"

Ah.

Ah.

That was bad.

Because he still had no idea how to fight.

Ozpin adjusted his glasses. "…Of course."

She continued to stare.

"Very well," she said finally, rubbing her temple. "I trust you have a plan?"

He did not.

He smiled enigmatically. "Naturally."

She sighed. "Of course you do."

Then, mercifully, she left.

Ozpin sat still.

Processing.

Alright. New emergency priority.

Step Forty-Three: Learn how to fight before the tournament.

He rubbed his face.

"I am so screwed."