Chapter Text
Oscar wasn't sure how he ended up with Penny's hand locked around his wrist, weaving between early morning crowds of Vale. She was stronger than he realized. Every time he tried to slow down to avoid bumping into someone, she pulled him along with casually unstoppable momentum.
"Oscar, look!" Penny's bright green eyes practically glowed, and her lips formed a perfect 'O' as she skidded to a stop in front of a flower stall. "They have sunflowers here. Real, actual, non-fabricated sunflowers!"
He was in the middle of catching his breath when Oscar remembered that she was originally from Atlas. So, seeing real flowers of any kind was all new to her. "Uh, yeah." He adjusted his orange puffer jacket and glanced at the beaming petals that tilted toward the sunlight. "They're pretty common this time of year."
Penny rocked on her heels, making her boots squeak on the pavement. "I have never seen one up close. I saw a flower like this in a book. It made me feel warm and happy. Therefore, I decided I must learn about human hobbies like 'gardening.' Will you help me?"
Oscar blinked when he heard her say, 'human hobbies?' He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar prickle of embarrassment. "Well, I mean, I've done some gardening back on the farm on top of other chores and all."
He swallowed. His voice felt too small in the crowd, too ordinary compared to everyone around them. It was one thing to know how to clear weeds, turn soil, plant seeds, and trim rows until the sun sank behind the barn with Ma, Pa, and Aunty Em in damp earth. But explaining it to Penny, someone who was brilliant, if a bit sheltered, in every sense of the word, made him feel like he was way out of his league. It was as if he were pretending to be important.
But Penny's eyes were bright, her attention wholly on him as if he had just done something incredible. "You have experience!" She said, practically bouncing. "That makes you the perfect teacher for me!"
"I… I guess," Oscar stammered, cheeks pink. "We can find you a good one. One that's strong."
Penny's hands shot up in excitement, and for a second, Oscar thought she might jump. "Thank you, Oscar! Thank you, thank you!"
They moved between stalls, Penny pausing to smell every flower—lilies, daisies, marigolds—her face tilting to catch each scent with curiosity. She asked endless questions:
"Why are some petals shaped like stars?"
"Do you think flowers get lonely when they're cut from the earth?"
"What is compost, and why does it smell so strange?"
Oscar tried to answer each one as best he could. A fellow Beacon student or passerby would glance at him while he answered. He felt his cheeks turn pink under the attention, stumbling over words he never thought twice about back on the farm. His words felt too… plain for someone aspiring to be a Huntsman… a hero.
But Penny listened, nodding, eyes wide, taking in every word as if it were precious knowledge that only he could give her with genuine interest that made him forget his embarrassment, if only for a moment. She didn't mind when he stammered or paused, didn't laugh when words fell apart in his mouth and he corrected himself, didn't even seem to notice the way his hands fidgeted.
As he spoke about how you could tell if soil was too wet or too dry just by how it clumped in your hand, or how planting at the right time could mean the difference between strong blooms and withered leaves, Oscar slowly felt something else stirring beneath the embarrassment.
Pride.
He'd spent years digging in the dirt, hauling water, and tending to small, stubborn life under hot suns and cold winds. It wasn't glamorous, but it mattered. It was real work. And Penny's unfiltered wonder made him realize he didn't need to hide it.
At last, Penny pointed to a small pot holding a sunflower no taller than her forearm, its leaves a bright, hopeful green, petals freshly opened.
"This one!" She announced.
Oscar smiled. "All right. But you'll need good soil and a pot to move it into. And you'll need to water it, but not too much or it'll drown."
"I will take the utmost care!" Penny said, saluting.
"Perfect choice, young lady," the flower vendor said.
Penny pulled out a pouch of lien, fumbling as she tried to hand the coins to the vendor while holding the pot at the same time.
"Here, I can—" Oscar steadied the pot for her, and their fingers brushed.
Penny glanced down at his hands, studying the small scars on his knuckles. "You have hands that know how to take care of things."
Oscar's throat tightened. "I guess... that's what farmers do."
She looked up at him, her bright eyes blinking, gears almost visible turning in her mind, before she gave a radiant smile. "Then I am glad you're my friend, Oscar."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded, holding the flowerpot between them.
As they left the market, Penny held the sunflower close to her chest. Oscar tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. The way she looked at the flower, it was like it was the most valuable thing in the world to her.
They found a quiet spot near a small stone ledge warmed by the sun. Penny carefully set the sunflower down between them, her gloved hands hovering over it as if afraid to touch the petals again.
"I am glad we found you," she whispered to the plant, as if it could hear her. "You will be very happy with me." Penny glanced up at him, her eyes bright but uncertain. "Oscar, may I ask you something?"
"Yeah, of course."
She tilted her head, her braids brushing against her shoulders. "What does it mean to be alive?"
Oscar blinked in surprise at that. "Uh... that's a big question."
"I know," Penny nodded, her smile faded almost immediately. "But I think about it… a lot. My father, General Ironwood, and my friends. They say I'm alive. But sometimes I wonder... is that true? Or is it because I am... useful?"
Oscar swallowed, glancing down at the sunflower, its petals trembling in the wind. What in Remnant's name does he say to a question like that? And where was this all coming from? "Penny… you're not just useful."
"But my purpose is to fight," she said softly, fingers brushing the rim of the pot. "To help Atlas. To protect people. If I wasn't useful, would I still matter?" Penny looked up, eyes shimmering. "Is that silly? To worry that you are not real enough to be loved?"
Oscar felt a pang in his chest. He crouched down, so he was at eye level with her and the flower.
"When I was little, and I helped plant rows and rows of vegetables, Aunt Em told me that every seed had a purpose, even if it was small. Some grew food. Some fed the bees. Some were just pretty, and that made people smile when they needed it." He paused, pressing his lips together. "Not everything that grows is useful in the way people expect. But that doesn't mean it doesn't matter."
Penny clutched the pot as if it anchored her while she quietly listened.
"You chose this sunflower. Not because it was useful, but because it made you feel happy, and you wanted to take care of it. You do that for people, too, Penny. You make people feel happy. You care about them. And that's... that's what it means to be alive."
Penny looked down at the sunflower, a small, trembling smile on her face as she whispered, "I think I understand." She lifted the sunflower, holding it to her chest. "Then I will take care of you, little sunflower, not because it makes me useful, but because it makes me... me."
Oscar nodded, standing up and offering his hand to help her rise. She took it and stood, clutching the sunflower with her other hand. "Oscar," Penny began softly. "I want to protect you."
He blinked. "What?"
"You're my friend," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "My first farm friend."
Oscar's eyebrows went up, both surprised and amused. "Farm friend?"
"You are from a farm," Penny said, nodding. "And I care about you. Therefore, farm friend."
Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "I… I'll take it. I think."
Penny looked pleased. "Then it's settled. I'll protect you."
Oscar opened his mouth, but instead, he nodded. "Only if you let me protect you, too."
Penny considered that for a moment, then nodded with a bit of a hum. "Deal."
The partners walked back toward Beacon, Penny nestled the sunflower in her arms, humming softly—a wordless tune, bright and gentle, that made Oscar think of open skies and spring rain.
"You know," he said, kicking at a pebble on the road, "I can help you plant it outside the dorms. The soil's decent there."
Penny's eyes widened with excitement. "Yes, please! And you can teach me how to care for it so it will grow strong, like you."
Oscar opened his mouth to correct her, to say he wasn't that strong, but stopped. He smiled instead. "Yeah," he said, looking at the tiny sunflower reaching for the sky, "I can do that."
For the first time since coming to Beacon, Oscar realized that maybe being a Huntsman or a hero wasn't about fighting or proving yourself. Perhaps it was about the small things—helping something grow, helping a friend feel seen. Maybe having the wisdom to know that was enough.