Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All Ruby Rose had ever wanted was caring friends and a loving family. She dreamed of laughter, of shared moments, of finding a place where she truly belonged. But life, it seemed, life had other plans. From the moment she was born, Ruby’s world had been filled with stories—stories her mother, Summer Rose, told with passion and wonder. Stories of adventure, of heroism, of brave souls who fought for the greater good. Summer painted a picture of a world filled with purpose and love, and Ruby’s heart longed to be a part of it. She wanted nothing more than to follow in her mother's footsteps, to be a Huntress like Summer, like her father, Taiyang Xiao Long, and like her uncle, Qrow. It was a dream that gave her purpose.

But dreams, Ruby learned, are only dreams.

Ruby’s world shattered the day her mother died on an unknown mission. The woman who had filled her heart with hope was gone, and with her death came a mystery that Ruby could never unravel. The pain of loss was sharp, but the emptiness left behind was worse. What was once a life full of love and possibility became one of cold silence.

Her father, once a pillar of strength and warmth, withdrew from the world. Tai threw himself into his work, into training Yang, or disappeared into the quiet solace of his alcohol. His grief consumed him, leaving Ruby to face the empty space in their home, and in her heart, alone. He didn’t have time for her anymore.

For a brief time, Ruby found comfort in her sister, Yang. They had always been close, bound by their shared love for their mother and their shared loneliness in the wake of her passing. Yang was Ruby’s anchor, the one person who understood what she was going through. She was Ruby’s best friend, her closest confidante, the one who helped carry the burden of grief. But even that connection faded. One day, Ruby overheard an explosive argument between Tai and Yang, followed by the sound of Yang storming out, her steps heavy with anger. It was the first crack in the foundation of their relationship. After that, Yang became more distant. She was still physically there, but emotionally she was slipping away, her presence like an echo of what had once been.

Ruby noticed the change, and felt the distance growing between them. Yang wasn’t just busy. Something was wrong, but Ruby didn’t know how to fix it. She tried, desperately, to reconnect—to play games together, to talk, to share her heart—but Yang’s excuses became more frequent. She was "busy with training," or "too swamped with schoolwork." But Ruby could see through the lies, even when she was young. Yang wasn’t pushing herself away because of her schedule; she was pulling away from Ruby, and Ruby couldn’t understand why.

Without Yang, Ruby was left to face the silence alone. Her father, Tai, was wrapped up in his own grief. Her sister, once her closest companion, was now a stranger. And so, Ruby turned to her uncle, Qrow. He became the one stable presence in her life, the one who would teach her to fight, who would help her build her weapon. Qrow’s mentorship gave Ruby purpose, and for a time, it felt like she wasn’t so alone. But even Qrow wasn’t constant. He would be with her for a few weeks, offering wisdom, guidance, and the comfort of his presence. But then he would leave, vanishing for months on end, leaving Ruby to fend for herself. And every time, the silence would settle back in, as thick and suffocating as ever.

As the years passed, Ruby grew up alone. She had learned to hide the loneliness, to bury the pain, but it never truly went away. It was always there, a quiet ache in her chest. She threw herself into training, becoming more skilled with her sniper-scythe, a weapon she had crafted herself. It was a way to channel the pain, a way to control something in a world that had always felt beyond her grasp. But no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much she trained, the loneliness remained.

By the time Ruby entered Signal Academy, she was a prodigy. Her skill far surpassed that of most students, but it only served to isolate her further. Whispers followed her wherever she went—rumors that she had been trained by mercenaries, or that her skill was the result of some unfair advantage. No one believed her when she said that she had no special training, that she had worked tirelessly to hone her craft. They didn’t want to believe her. And so the distance between Ruby and her peers grew. She was feared, admired, but never truly accepted. She could never be part of their world, never be their equal. It wasn’t just her skill that set her apart; it was the gulf of isolation that ran so deep she couldn’t see the other side. Yet, despite the growing chasm of isolation, she held onto the hope that one day she could bridge the gap and find a place among them.

Ruby began to fear that this was how her life would always be. She was destined to be alone, separated from others by the very thing that made her special. She longed for friendship, for connection, for something that felt real. But it always seemed just out of reach.

Then, on one fateful night, Ruby’s life took an unexpected turn. While visiting the local Dust shop, "Dust to Dawn," to buy ammunition and a snack, she found herself in the middle of an attempted robbery. She didn’t act because she wanted to be a hero; she just couldn’t stand by and do nothing while someone innocent was hurt. Her actions that night caught the attention of Professor Ozpin, and she was offered an early acceptance into Beacon Academy—two years ahead of schedule.

At first, Ruby was elated. Beacon was her chance for a fresh start, a chance to prove that she wasn’t just a prodigy, but a person who could belong, to be surrounded by new faces, new potential friends, to be part of a team, to finally belong. She might have been younger than the others, but that didn’t matter. This was her chance to prove herself, to show that she wasn’t just a prodigy but a person worthy of connection. She longed for a team, for friends who would stand beside her, just as she had always dreamed.

But Beacon was not the place she imagined.

From the very first week, Ruby felt the distance. Team RWBY, her team, wasn’t the family she had hoped for. It was supposed to be the culmination of all her dreams, but it often felt like a team in name only. The bond she had hoped for was absent.

Weiss was always consumed with her own world—her studies, her personal issues—and Ruby could feel the coldness in her responses, the indifference behind every "sorry, I'm busy." She wanted to connect with Weiss, but it seemed like no matter how hard Ruby tried, Weiss wasn’t interested in building any real connection.

Yang, her sister, was physically present but emotionally distant. She was too consumed by her own training, her friends, and her life to notice Ruby, who had become a mere afterthought. Yang wasn’t intentionally cruel, but her indifference felt worse than any harsh words could have. Her smiles were dismissive, her laughter hollow—it no longer held the warmth it once did. The bond that had been so strong between them as children seemed to fade with every passing day. Ruby didn’t understand what had happened to her sister, but the emptiness in their relationship hurt more than she could have ever imagined.

Blake, the quiet one, was a mystery. She kept to herself, always hiding in her books or disappearing into the shadows of the dorm. Every time Ruby tried to connect with her, Blake would offer a polite nod or a quiet smile, but there was no substance behind it. Blake’s heart, it seemed, was somewhere else entirely.

In the rare moments that they were together outside of class, she had hoped—maybe this time, they’ll stay. But no. It was the same cycle. A brief moment of connection before one of them would find an excuse to slip away, to leave her standing there alone.

At first, the pain was unbearable—far worse than Ruby had ever imagined. She had come to Beacon with the hope of forming lifelong friendships, of being part of a team that would support each other, sharing both victories and hardships. Ruby had always dreamed of making memories and experiencing moments of joy with people who truly mattered to her. But now, in just a few short weeks, it all seemed to be falling apart

As the weeks passed, Ruby realized the painful truth: her team didn’t need her. She wasn’t their leader in any meaningful way. She was just a title, an empty position they never really respected. Her efforts to bond, to study, to share moments of camaraderie, were always met with polite avoidance. They had their own lives, their own priorities, and Ruby was just a side note.

As the weeks turned into months, Ruby's efforts dwindled. She stopped asking to study with Weiss. She stopped suggesting games with Yang. She stopped trying to talk to Blake about her favorite books. Once, she attempted to join JNPR during their downtime, but it was clear she wasn’t welcome. It wasn’t that anyone outright rejected her—they didn’t need to.

The silence between them became deafening. It wasn’t loud or angry, it was quiet, cold, and growing more unbearable by the day. Every time Ruby entered the dorm, she felt the weight of the emptiness around her. The team she had dreamed of—her family, her friends—wasn’t there. They were strangers, living in the same space but worlds apart.

In those moments of realization, when the loneliness became too much, Ruby would retreat to the roof of the dorm, gazing at the stars. She didn’t know what she was hoping for—maybe some kind of miracle, some sign that things could be different. But deep down, Ruby knew the truth: no one was coming. No one was going to change.

And so, she sat alone under the vast sky, watching the rose in her heart lose its petals, piece by piece.

Chapter Text

Ruby sat alone in the empty workshop, her shoulders slumped as she carefully polished the blade of Crescent Rose. The rhythmic motion of the cloth against the steel was soothing, but her mind was far from peaceful. She needed this—the quiet hum of the room, the sharp scent of oil and metal. It was the only place that still made her feel like herself.

Her scythe had always been more than just a weapon; it was her companion, her constant. When everything else in her life shifted and fell apart, Crescent Rose remained. But lately, even it felt heavier in her hands. She told herself that she was just maintaining it, just keeping it in top condition for battle. But the truth was, this ritual had become less about care and more about escape. When she was here, tending to Crescent Rose, she didn’t have to think about her team.

Sunday nights were supposed to be for studying, but one by one, her team had found reasons to leave.

Weiss had gone first, claiming she needed to rerun some of her Dust lab experiments. It was a flimsy excuse, and Ruby saw right through it. Weiss was a prodigy when it came to Dust—there was no way she had made mistakes serious enough to warrant a late-night redo. No, it was just an easy way to step out, to be anywhere but here.

Blake was next, muttering something about needing to clean and repair Gambol Shroud for Professor Goodwitch’s class on Monday. Ruby almost offered to help—after all, weapons were her passion. She knew the ins and outs of everyone’s gear better than anyone. But she stayed quiet, because she understood. Blake wasn’t really going to the workshop. She was just finding her own way to disappear.

Then, it was just Ruby and Yang.

They sat in silence for nearly an hour, neither of them speaking. Ruby wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, Yang would stay. That she wouldn’t find a reason to leave like the others. But, just as expected, Yang eventually stood up, stretching as if she had just made a casual decision.

"I’m going to step out for a bit."

And then she was gone.

It had become a pattern—one that Ruby had noticed for weeks now. Someone would leave, then another, then another, until she was the only one left. It had stopped feeling like coincidence and started feeling like expectation. And yet, despite knowing what would happen, it still hurt.

She couldn’t bring herself to sit alone in the dorm, suffocated by the silence and the reminder of just how isolated she was. So, she gathered up her things and made her way to the workshop. It was the only place she knew she could be alone on her own terms.

Figures.

She tried to push the bitterness away, but it lingered.

As she ran the cloth over Crescent Rose’s blade, a sharp sting made her flinch. A thin line of crimson bloomed on her fingertip, a single drop of blood falling onto the spotless steel. She swore under her breath and set her weapon aside, crossing the room to retrieve the first-aid kit—only to find it empty.

"Of course," she muttered, frustration bubbling up. Hadn’t she just restocked it?

With a heavy sigh, she resigned herself to returning to the dorm for her sparring kit. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do.

As she walked through the halls, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider. Around her, teams moved together—laughing, talking, studying side by side. It was everything she wanted, everything she should have had. But somehow, she was always the one left behind.

She was about to pass the library when she heard a familiar voice—Yang’s. Ruby hesitated, curiosity prickling at her. Then, another voice joined in—Blake. Ruby’s steps slowed, every instinct screaming that she didn’t want to see what was up ahead.

Quietly, she slipped inside, moving through the aisles with practiced stealth. As she neared the game area, she stopped behind a bookcase, pressing herself against the shelves. She shouldn’t look. She should just leave.

But she couldn’t help herself.

Carefully, she nudged a book aside, just enough to peer through the gap. Her breath caught in her throat.

Around a game table, laughing and talking, sat Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Team JNPR. They were relaxed, joking, completely at ease with one another. Even Weiss, usually so uptight, had let down her guard. Blake, who always carried a quiet distance, was leaning in, engaged in the conversation. They were together. They were close.

And Ruby… wasn’t there.

A sharp pang of something bitter twisted in her gut, but it was quickly swallowed by a deeper weight—loneliness. A quiet, aching kind of loneliness that settled deep inside her bones.

Then she heard Weiss’s voice, cutting through the chatter. "She’s always so… cheerful. It gets exhausting."

Ruby froze. Her breath hitched, her body locking up as the words sunk in.

"What’s the point of hiding it?" Weiss continued, a dismissive edge to her tone. "She’s going to find out eventually."

"Who cares if she does?" Nora chimed in. "It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong."

"Listen, I know she’s a bit of a brat, but I feel obligated to at least pretend we’re not just sneaking away to get time away from her," Yang sighed. "She’s just… too young. It would be weird."

It was always something, Ruby thought bitterly. There was always some reason she was alone.

"Speaking of," Pyrrha added thoughtfully, "how did she even get into Beacon so young?"

"Yeah, did she bribe someone? Or wait—did she kill someone? Break someone’s legs?" Nora joked, laughter following her words.

"She stopped Torchwick from robbing a Dust shop," Yang replied shortly.

"You’re joking, right?" Weiss’s voice was sharp with disbelief. "A brat like her could never have done something like that."

Ruby could see Jaune, Nora, and Blake nodding in agreement.

So I’m a brat, she thought. Her head started to pound, but she kept listening.

"Believe it or not," Yang continued, "she’s a monster on the battlefield. A complete freak with that scythe."

A monster. The word stung more than she expected.

"Surely you’re mistaken," Pyrrha replied. "I mean, we’ve seen her in combat class. She struggles against average students."

"She’s holding back in class. But I promise you, if she wanted to be, she’s dangerous."

Ruby’s vision blurred. The voices became muffled, quieter and quieter as she shrank back. Her knees felt weak. They all felt this way?

The words hit Ruby like a ton of bricks. Her hands clenched into fists, the hurt swelling in her chest. The loneliness, the endless rejection—it all came crashing down on her at once. They didn’t even care enough to hide it. They didn’t want to be around her. Not even Yang.

Her team. Her friends. The people she had wanted so desperately to bond with, to trust, to build a family with—they were all against her. They had been for so long, and Ruby had been too blind to see it.

The silence that followed was deafening. Ruby stood only feet away from everything she had ever wanted, her eyes full of tears. Hidden and alone.

Holding back her sobs, she quickly ducked out of the library and down the corridors.

The hallway was empty. The laughter, the conversation—it felt so distant, like it had never belonged to her. Ruby was already so far from them, so far from everything she had ever wanted. The loneliness, the pain—it all crashed down on her.

And as she walked into the night, she left behind nothing but a trail of rose petals, their bright red color fading, falling to the ground like discarded dreams. A single silver tear fell from her eye, unnoticed by the world around her.

And then, just like that, the rose—once full of life—began to wilt.

Chapter Text

Ruby Rose’s footsteps echoed through the nearly empty streets of Vale, the distant hum of city life growing softer with every step. It had been hours since she had disembarked from the transport, her mind still swirling with the sharp sting of the words she’d overheard at Beacon. It wasn’t just the words—those cutting remarks from her teammates. It was the silence that had followed, the painful absence of anything that might have repaired the rift she felt in her heart. The loneliness had taken root in her chest and seemed to grow with each passing minute.

Her eyes were red and puffy, a mix of exhaustion and quiet sadness clouding her usually bright demeanor. Yet, despite the tears she’d shed earlier, none came now. She had no more tears left to cry, no more energy to expend on emotions that seemed to keep circling back to the same questions: Why did they say that? What did I do wrong?

Her footsteps were heavy, each one dragging her further from the place she thought of as home. Time was the only thing she wanted now—time to figure out how to make sense of everything. Had any of her teammates heard her slip away from the door before she started crying? No one had come after her. No messages, no words of comfort. It made her feel invisible, as though her pain didn’t matter.

She wasn’t even sure where she was going. The streets twisted and turned in ways that almost seemed to mock her sense of direction. Every corner she rounded led to another alley or unfamiliar street, and Ruby didn’t care. She needed to be anywhere but near Beacon.

The hours crawled by, and the sun slipped further below the horizon, leaving only the faint glow of the streetlights to illuminate her path. The night had come in full force, bringing with it a coldness that seemed to creep under Ruby’s skin. Fall had settled into Vale, and the wind now carried the chill of the changing seasons. She hadn’t prepared for this. The light red sweatshirt she wore, stained with grease from the workshop, offered little protection against the biting wind. 

She found herself walking through the outskirts of the Warehouse District, where the streets grew quieter and the buildings more industrial. It was there, on the corner of an empty street, that Ruby noticed something that seemed almost too whimsical to be real.

A large neon sign flickered in the distance, casting a soft pink light over the dim street. On top of the building, a giant ice cream cone spun slowly, and beneath it, the words Parlor Express glowed brightly, as though inviting her into its warmth.

Ice cream, Ruby thought, her heart lifting at the thought of something simple. Something that might make her feel a little better, even if only for a moment. Ice cream had always been her comfort food, a sweet distraction from the world’s more complicated emotions.

She pushed open the door with a soft chime, greeted by the cozy atmosphere of the small shop. The air smelled of sugar, vanilla, and something familiar that made her feel just a little bit lighter. She walked up to the counter, her shoulders slumping from the weight of everything she’d been carrying for the last few hours. She barely even noticed the Faunus behind the counter until he greeted her.

"Hello, ma’am! What can I get for you?" he asked cheerfully, his long rabbit ears twitching slightly as he prepared to take her order.

Ruby smiled weakly. “Um, could I get a scoop of cookies and cream... and one of strawberry?” Her voice was soft, polite, but there was a sadness in it that even she couldn’t hide.

"Sure! That’ll be eight lien," the Faunus said, ringing it up.

Ruby reached into her pocket, but as she pulled out her wallet, her heart sank. There was nothing inside. Not a single lien. She stared at the empty compartment for a long moment, her face flushing with embarrassment.  She felt the sting of shame crawl up her neck, and she opened her mouth to apologize, ready to make a hasty exit.

How stupid could I be?

She had spent her last bit of allowance earlier that week. Her stomach twisted as she realized she didn’t even have enough for a simple treat. The moment she’d been looking forward to, the one thing she thought would offer her a little bit of peace, had just slipped through her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby began, but before she could continue, a voice interrupted her.

"Ah, Miss Neopolitan! The usual?" The Faunus looked past Ruby, speaking to the person behind her.

Ruby turned, surprised to see a woman standing behind her, a short, striking figure with multicolored hair—matching her name. Ruby couldn’t help but admire the way the woman’s colorful parasol twirled lazily in her hand, the soft chime of its tip clicking against the floor. 

Neopolitan smiled at the Faunus, her gaze flicking to Ruby for a brief second, and then back to the counter. Without a word, she stepped forward and handed over the lien for her order.

Ruby, still in shock, stood there like a statue as Neopolitan received her enormous banana split. The moment felt strange—almost surreal. Neopolitan had barely acknowledged Ruby, but Ruby couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman had been watching her all along. Had she seen the loneliness etched across Ruby’s face? Her thoughts began to spiral.

"Here you go, Neopolitan," the Faunus said, breaking the tense silence as he handed the woman an absurdly large banana split, which she accepted without a word.

Neopolitan, without sparing Ruby another glance, placed eight lien on the counter, turned, and walked out with a casual twirl of her parasol, her ice cream in hand. Ruby stood there for a moment, utterly perplexed. Hadn’t she already paid?

As Ruby was about to turn and leave, too embarrassed to stay any longer, the Faunus called her back.

"Don’t worry about it, Miss. Neapolitan already covered it." the Faunus behind the counter said, his tone casual.

Ruby’s jaw dropped. She stared at the clerk, her thoughts racing as gratitude mingled with confusion. Why?

Ruby blinked, startled. "Wait, what? She... paid for me?"

The Faunus nodded, unfazed.

The Faunus simply smiled, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "Miss Neapolitan is a frequent customer here. Sometimes she likes to pay for others—especially when she senses someone’s having a rough day. She does it for the kids who don’t have enough lien too. It’s just her way.

Ruby stood there, dumbfounded. The surprise in her chest quickly melted into a warmth that spread through her. She hadn’t expected this at all. After everything that had happened today, she hadn’t expected anyone to show her kindness, least of all a stranger. Ruby could hardly believe it. Was that really why she did it?

“I... thank you,” Ruby said softly, almost to herself, before quickly gathering the courage to look up at the Faunus. "Please tell her... I said thank you."

The Faunus smiled and nodded, and Ruby hurried to take her cone, still in a daze. As she stepped out into the cool night air, she looked around for Neapolitan, hoping to at least thank her in person. But the woman had vanished, as if swallowed up by the city. There was no trace of her, no sign of her parasol or colorful hair.

Ruby sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Guess I'll have to thank her next time."

Ruby continued her walk through Vale, the chill wind biting at her skin, but the ice cream she clutched in her hands provided a strange kind of comfort. Despite the cold, despite everything she was carrying with her, the act of kindness felt like a beacon in the darkness.

She ate slowly, savoring each bite, allowing the simplicity of the moment to wash over her. The swirling mix of cookies and cream and strawberry felt like a small moment of peace, one that she hadn’t even realized she needed until now. It didn’t fix everything, but maybe that was okay. Maybe sometimes, small things could make the difference.

When she pulled out her scroll and saw how late it had gotten, Ruby knew it was time to return to Beacon. The thought of going back wasn’t easy. She wasn’t sure how she’d face her teammates, how she’d repair the cracks between them, but for the first time that day, Ruby felt like she wasn’t completely alone.

As the shuttle door closed behind her, Ruby couldn’t stop thinking about Neapolitan, the woman with the colorful umbrella. She didn’t know why Neapolitan had been kind to her—hadn’t even had a chance to thank her properly—but she held onto that kindness, feeling it wrapped around her like a warm, gentle light in the darkness.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay after all.

Chapter Text

By the time Ruby returned to her dorm, her team was already asleep. She stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at their sleeping forms, wondering if they had noticed she was gone. They must have—how could they not? But if they had, they hadn’t waited for her.

She sighed softly, stepping inside as quietly as she could. She knew she’d hear about it in the morning—Weiss would surely have something to say about her “irresponsibility.” But for now, for just a few short hours, she could rest. She climbed into bed, turning away from them, and let herself drift off, thinking of the unexpected kindness Neapolitan had shown her.

Morning came too soon.

Ruby had barely pulled herself from bed before Weiss started in on her.

"Out late again?" Weiss’s voice was sharp as she stood by the mirror, brushing out her hair. "I don’t even want to know what kind of nonsense you were up to, but as team leader, you should be setting an example—not sneaking off to do whatever it is you do."

Ruby rubbed her temples, too exhausted to argue. "I wasn’t sneaking off," she muttered.

"Then what were you doing?"

Silence.

Weiss sighed in exasperation. "Unbelievable. Do you have any idea how irresponsible you’re being?"

Ruby barely listened as Weiss went off on one of her usual speeches about duty, discipline, and leadership. She had heard it all before—so many times, in so many different ways—that she was starting to memorize it.

She wanted to snap back, to tell Weiss she didn’t get to lecture her about leadership when she never once treated her like one. But Ruby bit her tongue, swallowing the words before they could spill out. It wasn’t worth it. Not this early in the morning.

The rest of the day didn’t fare much better.

In Port’s class, Ruby had barely taken any notes, distracted by her own thoughts. She liked Professor Port’s stories, even if they never really seemed to have a point, but today, her mind kept drifting—to the library, to the things she had overheard.

"Ruby!" Weiss’s voice snapped her out of her daze. "Are you even paying attention?"

Ruby blinked.

Weiss sighed, rubbing her temples. "You’re just proving my point. You need to start taking this seriously."

Ruby said nothing. Just nodded along, too drained to fight.

Then came combat class.

Ruby had been barely holding onto her patience all morning, and now, standing beside her team, watching the sparring matches play out before them, she could feel it fraying further.

Her mind drifted again—to Neapolitan, to the brief moment of warmth she had felt in the cold of last night. Why had Neo been kind to her? What did she gain from it?

"Miss Rose," Glynda’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and unforgiving.

Ruby snapped her head up, suddenly aware that all eyes were on her.

"Do you find my lessons boring?" Glynda asked coolly.

Ruby straightened. "No, ma’am," she replied quickly. "Sorry, I just—long night."

Glynda’s expression didn’t change. "Then perhaps a sparring match will wake you up." She turned to the class. "Any volunteers to face Miss Rose?"

A hand shot up almost instantly.

"Ooooh, me!" Nora’s voice rang out, excitement practically radiating from her.

Ruby sighed. Well, at least this would be more interesting than watching.

She stepped down from the stands and made her way toward the lockers, changing into her combat gear. By the time she returned, Nora was already waiting in the ring, bouncing on the balls of her feet with an eager grin.

"Alright, girls," Glynda announced. "Even though the Vital Tournament has been postponed until next semester, we will continue practicing for it. Standard tournament rules apply: the first to be knocked out of the ring or to have their aura reach the red zone loses. Prepare yourselves.”

Ruby exhaled slowly, tightening her grip on Crescent Rose.

"On my mark… Begin!"

Nora moved instantly, flipping backward as Magnhild shifted into its grenade launcher form with a metallic clunk . She fired without hesitation, the first explosive shell tearing through the air.

Ruby was faster.

She blurred into a flurry of rose petals, dodging left, right, spiraling between the explosions as they detonated in bursts of heat and force. The shockwaves sent cracks through the arena floor, but she kept moving, weaving through the chaos like a ghost.

Then, she closed the distance.

Crescent Rose swung in a gleaming arc of red and silver, aimed straight for Nora’s side.

But Nora was ready.

With a loud clang , she raised her hammer just in time, blocking the strike with brute force. Sparks flew from the impact, and for a moment, they were locked in place—Ruby pushing forward, Nora standing firm.

Nora grinned. “That all you got?”

Ruby said nothing, shifting her stance and striking again—fast, precise, relentless. But Nora matched her move for move, her hammer swinging in wide, powerful arcs, forcing Ruby to duck and weave between each bone-rattling strike.

They danced across the arena, neither giving ground, neither backing down. Ruby struck high—Nora blocked. Nora countered low—Ruby sidestepped. A parry, a dodge, a feint, a strike.

Then, in the midst of it all, Nora’s grin shifted into something sharper.

And then she spoke.

“So this is all the monster has to offer?”

Ruby’s breath hitched.

Nora kept going, her voice slow, deliberate. “You know, when Yang talked about you, she made you sound like some kind of prodigy. A real beast in battle.” A pause. “But honestly? I expected more.”

The words hit harder than any strike.

Ruby faltered. Just for a second.

But in a fight like this, a second was everything.

Nora’s hammer slammed into her side. The impact was like getting hit by a freight train. Ruby felt her aura flare in defense, but it barely softened the blow—her body was already airborne before she even registered what had happened.

She hit the ground hard, rolling across the arena floor. Her vision spun, her breath torn from her lungs. It wasn’t the pain that made her chest tighten—it was the realization that they knew.

The whispers. The looks. The library.

It wasn’t just frustration. It wasn’t just a bad day.

This was how they really saw her.

Something inside her cracked.

Fine.

If they wanted a monster, she would show them one.

Her fingers clenched around Crescent Rose’s handle, her knuckles white. The world bled red at the edges of her vision.

With a sharp movement, she switched Crescent Rose into its sniper form.

Then she fired.

A single bullet shot across the arena, aimed straight at Nora’s center mass. She barely had time to raise her hammer to block before Ruby fired again. And again.

The shots came relentlessly.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each impact forced Nora back a step, her aura flickering under the strain. She was strong, but she wasn’t invincible. And Ruby was done holding back.

At first, Nora kept blocking, her hammer absorbing the shots. But Ruby didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. Her finger squeezed the trigger with machine-like precision, each round whittling away at her opponent.

Then, Ruby saw it.

A hesitation.

For just a fraction of a second, Nora moved to dodge instead of block.

Ruby was already moving.

In an instant, she blurred into motion, her semblance propelling her forward like a bullet.

Nora barely had time to react before Crescent Rose came crashing down.

The impact was brutal. The force of the strike sent Nora flying, her body hitting the arena floor before skidding toward the edge.

Her aura flared—then shattered.

She was out.

Silence.

The whistle blew.

Glynda approached the fallen fighter, heels clicking against the floor. "Miss Valkyrie is out of bounds. Match over."

Ruby barely heard her.

She saw Team JNPR rushing over, saw Jaune’s expression shift from worry to something else—something almost fearful. Pyrrha studied her, intrigue flashing behind her eyes. Ren… Ren just looked confused.

She turned away before she could see more. Before she could process what she had done.

"Miss Valkyrie should be taken to the infirmary," Glynda continued. "That impact may have left her concussed."

Ruby didn’t wait to hear the rest.

She turned on her heel and left.

Her hands still shook. Her breathing was uneven. The roaring in her ears drowned out the class, the murmurs, the world.

All she could hear were Nora’s taunts.

"Monster."

The words clung to her, digging under her skin like splinters, embedding themselves in her heart. They wouldn’t stop repeating, wouldn’t stop gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Her legs moved before she even realized where she was going. She pushed forward, her feet pounding against the pavement as she picked up speed.

Faster.

Away.

Chapter Text

Roman was having a bad day.
No, bad didn’t quite cut it. He was having a miserable day.

It all started with one of Cinder’s "brilliant" plans—this time, to transport a batch of stolen Dust through the Forever Fall Forest in broad daylight. Broad. Daylight.
Genius.

To be fair, no sane person would venture this deep into Forever Fall unless they were a Huntsman—and even then, only with backup and a damn good reason. Cinder had taken some precautions. Scouts were stationed along the path to watch for large packs of Grimm, and the route was chosen to avoid crossing paths with returning Vale patrols. That part, at least, had gone according to plan.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg.

The real kicker? He and Neo had been stuck with escort duty. Babysitting a caravan full of White Fang fanatics hauling crates of volatile Dust like it was their lunch break. Roman hated the White Fang. They were sloppy, loud, and worst of all, true lunatics. And now he had to play errand boy for them. This wasn’t the life of elegant crime he’d signed up for—it was glorified grunt work with a chance of fiery death if someone dropped a crate.

Still, Roman knew better than to complain too loudly. He and Neo had been in Cinder’s pocket for a while now, and trying to bail wasn’t exactly an option. Running would only get them hunted. If they were lucky, she’d send someone to kill them quick. If not... well, Cinder had always struck him as someone who liked making examples.

So, for now, he kept his mouth shut and played along. Not like he had much of a choice.

And to top it all off? It was pouring. Absolutely pouring.
Cold, relentless rain soaking through his pristine white suit, his hat doing little more than delaying the inevitable. He hated the rain.
With a passion.

"What could possibly make this day any worse?" Roman muttered to himself, just in time for the universe to respond.

One of the White Fang scouts sprinted toward him, slipping slightly on the muddy trail. Panic was written all over the guy's face.

“Oh, great . What is it now?” Roman sighed, not even trying to hide his irritation.

“A Huntsman,” the scout—some lizard Faunus with twitchy eyes—said between gasps. “There’s a Huntsman approaching!”

Roman blinked. A single Huntsman? This far out in the forest?

That didn’t make sense. If they’d been found out, Vale wouldn’t send one Huntsman, they’d send a team. Maybe two. This smelled... off .

“Any other particular details you feel like sharing,” Roman asked, voice dry as dust, “or were you planning on saving the juicy bits for story time?”

The Faunus swallowed nervously. “They’re attracting Grimm. Lots of them. Like... intentionally. And they’re just—slaughtering them.”

Roman raised an eyebrow.

Now that was unusual.

Sure, Huntsmen sometimes cleared nests solo, but actively drawing Grimm in? That was borderline suicidal. Especially in a forest like this, one crawling with ancient Grimm such as this.

Roman exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Fantastic.”

This complicated things. If the Huntsman was just doing a Grimm-clearing op, maybe they could steer the caravan around and be done with it. But if they got spotted—and the Huntsman kept attracting Grimm like a living beacon—this entire operation could turn into a massacre.

“Neo, darling,” Roman said, turning to his partner. “Be a dear and go check out our new friend. See if we need to take the scenic route.”

There was no reply—just the sound of shattering glass as Neo vanished from sight.

Roman reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. He paused, eyeing it with longing. Then he remembered the rain and sighed, tucking it back in with a muttered curse.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Definitely a miserable day.”

—------------------—------------------—------------------—------------------

Ruby tore through the forest like a blade through silk, but there was nothing elegant about it.

Each swing of Crescent Rose was heavy. Not with effort—but with emotion.

Anger. Hurt.

Sadness.

Every time her scythe cleaved through a Grimm, the weight in her chest pulsed—throbbed—burned. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was . She could cut down a thousand Beowolves, raze the entire forest to the ground, and it still wouldn’t quiet the ache.

The rain came down in sheets, cold and merciless. It soaked her through, clung to her skin like ice, but she barely felt it. Numbness had already set in.

Another Beowolf lunged.

She met it head-on. No dodging. No dancing.

Just steel, rage, and an impact that sent a shockwave through her arms.

One swing—schlkk .

The Grimm split apart, ichor spraying across her cloak.

She didn’t flinch.

She didn’t stop.

Another came. Then another. Then another.

It didn’t matter. They were just shadows, just obstacles, just… noise.

Because the real battle wasn’t with them. It was in her head.

"So this is all the monster has to offer."

Nora’s voice.

"She's a monster. A complete freak."

Yang’s voice.

That word.

Monster.

Ruby had spent her whole life fighting monsters. Training to be the one who stopped them. And now her own sister called her one?

Was life one sick joke?

Her hands trembled on the handle of her scythe as she stood over a pile of fading Grimm. Her chest heaved, lungs burning, throat tight like she might scream, or cry, or both—but nothing came out.

She hated this. Hated feeling like this. Like everything was slipping away, like she was all alone.

Why did they all hate her?

What had she done?

All she had ever tried to do was be their friend. To help.

And for what?

To be called a monster? To be taunted by those around her?

A growl cut through her thoughts. Then another.

She blinked.

Four, five pairs of glowing eyes, shifting in the darkness, circling like vultures waiting for something to die.

Beowolves.

Their eyes burned in the darkness—hungry, patient.

She should’ve felt something. Fear, maybe. Adrenaline. Anything.

But all she felt was tired.

Tired of trying. Tired of pretending. Tired of being alone with the weight of it all—of forcing a smile that feels empty, of masking the exhaustion with a façade of cheerfulness, of being the bright, friendly girl everyone expects, when inside she's crumbling.

She raised Crescent Rose again. Slower this time. Heavier.

But steady.

The Grimm rushed her.

She met them with a scream—raw, hoarse, human.

A sound born of heartbreak, not hatred.

The fight wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t graceful. It was messy. Desperate. Fueled by exhaustion, grief, rage—everything she had been holding back for far too long.

Crescent Rose howled in her hands—a whirlwind of steel and vengeance. She struck again, again, again—until there was nothing left but ash and silence.

Then—

A howl.

Not from the dying Grimm.

From something else.

Something large.

The ground shook. Branches trembled. The air itself felt heavy.

For the first time that night, something like fear crept into the back of her mind.

Whatever was coming—it wasn’t a Beowolf.

She needed to keep her distance. But the forest was dark, the storm thickening, reducing her vision to mere shadows. If she stayed here, she could be ambushed—trapped.

Ruby’s heart pounded.

Find an open space. Move.

She tore through the trees, weaving between trunks and leaping over roots, ignoring the sting in her limbs and the exhaustion in her bones. The earth trembled beneath her feet, each step of the approaching creature booming like thunder.

Then—an opening. A clearing just wide enough.

She skidded to a stop in its center, Crescent Rose raised, breath ragged, muscles coiled.

The footsteps grew louder. Heavier. The sound of a mountain dragging itself forward.

Ruby’s grip tightened on her scythe, rain dripping from her chin.

Then, at last—it stepped into view.

Ruby froze.

It was massive.

It looked like an Ursa, but it was nearly twice the size of the largest Ursa Majors she had fought before. Its body was almost entirely covered in thick, white bone armor, with red accents descending from a central point on its head.

Its claws were the size of Crescent Rose’s blade, and its pale armor bristled with jagged protrusions.

Bigger than any Grimm she had ever faced alone.

Bigger than any Beowolf, any Alpha, any monster that had haunted her nightmares.

The storm raged above.

And Ruby—

She readied herself.

With a practiced motion, she quickly shifted Crescent Rose into its sniper form and pulled the trigger—ping.

Empty.

Her stomach dropped, but she had no time to panic. In one fluid motion, she flipped Crescent Rose back into scythe form. Her boots dug into the mud as she launched herself forward, hoping to catch the monster off guard and land a few early strikes.

But to her horror, the Ursa blocked her.

Its massive, armored arms moved deliberately, intercepting each of her attacks with precision. Every strike that should have cut deep into flesh merely glanced off hardened bone.

Ruby barely managed to disengage, flipping backward to put distance between them.

This is bad.

Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding. Every bit of training, every instinct she had screamed the same thing— this was an Ancient Grimm.

It wasn’t just powerful. It was smart. It had read her moves, recognized her attack pattern, and countered using its most armored parts.

The last time she had fought something like this, it had taken four students just to bring it down.

And now—

She was alone.

The Ursa reared back and let out a deafening roar before charging, its massive form moving with terrifying speed and agility.

Ruby barely had time to react. She activated her Semblance, dodging and weaving through the blur of razor-sharp claws, the rain whipping past her as she twisted through the air.

Then—

She slipped.

For just a fraction of a second, she mistimed her movement.

And that was all it took.

The Ursa’s strike connected, a devastating force slamming into her side.

Ruby barely had time to register the pain before she was sent flying, crashing through the trees like a ragdoll before slamming into the drenched earth.

The world spun. The rain poured.

And the Ursa kept coming.

Her Aura was shattered, but fear and instinct screamed at her to get up.

Ruby mustered what little strength she had left, slung her scythe onto her back, and turned away from the monster. Run. That was all she could do. She forced herself forward, dashing into the forest, pushing her aching body beyond its limits.

She couldn’t fight this thing—no one could handle something like this alone.

Behind her, the Ursa let out another thunderous roar, shaking the earth with its weight as it lunged after her. The ground trembled beneath its massive frame, closing the distance between them far too quickly.

Then—

An image flickered beside her.

Ruby barely had time to register it before she squeaked in confusion—and then her body hit the ground.

She landed hard in the mud, the wind knocked out of her. Blinking through the rain and dirt, she saw it—herself. A ghostly double of her own form, still running, sprinting deeper into the trees.

Before she could even process what she was seeing, she couldn’t move.

It was as if something was pressing down on her, an invisible force pinning her to the cold, wet earth. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The Ursa was coming. She could hear it. Feel it.

And in that moment, she thought about how alone she really was.

This was it.

She was going to die, out here in the middle of nowhere—forgotten.

The world trembled as the Ursa closed in. The sound of its monstrous approach roared in her ears.

Then—

Silence.

The trembling faded. The heavy, suffocating weight pressing her into the mud suddenly lifted.

Only the storm remained. The steady patter of rain. The distant rumble of thunder.

Ruby opened her eyes.

Standing in front of her was a woman.

A black parasol rested on her shoulder, shielding her from the rain. Her outfit was an elegant mix of black, white, and pink, the colors flowing together seamlessly.

But what caught Ruby’s attention the most was her expression.

Sympathy. Concern. Worry written all over her face.

In her hand, she held out a scroll, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. A notes app was open, a single sentence displayed:

"What are you doing out here, Red?"

Ruby didn’t know what overcame her.

Her body moved before her mind caught up.

She lunged forward, tackling the smaller woman in a desperate embrace—

—and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Chapter Text

Neo moved with quiet determination as she strolled through the forest, her parasol resting lightly against her shoulder—offering only the barest protection from the rain. Each step was deliberate, her boots barely disturbing the damp earth beneath her. She was closing in on the location where she suspected the elusive Huntsman—or Huntress—was operating.

This stranger had been dragging Grimm toward themselves… and, by extension, toward the Caravan. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

She approached a clearing, ears pricking at the unmistakable sounds of battle just ahead—the guttural snarls of Grimm, the clash of steel against bone-plated armor.

This can’t be good, Neo thought, narrowing her eyes.

She kept to the shadows, hugging the treeline. Visibility was awful; the storm overhead churned in thick gray sheets, the rain falling in heavy curtains. She could only see a handful of feet in front of her.

I need to get closer.

She crept forward, one cautious step at a time, sticking to cover as she moved toward the source of the fighting. Eventually, a figure came into view—a single Huntress battling a massive Grimm.

Neo frowned. Something about the girl felt… familiar.

She squinted through the rain, eyes narrowing. The Huntress was clearly in bad shape: soaked to the bone, mud staining her tattered outfit, movements sluggish and desperate. Her weapon was scratched and weathered from overuse.

And then Neo saw her eyes—silver.

They had a faint glow, even through the storm, casting light against her pale, dirt-smudged face.

Neo froze. The dim recognition flared into full realization.

It’s her.

The girl in red.

The one she had bought ice cream for just yesterday.

Neo didn’t know what possessed her to move—maybe instinct, maybe impulse—but just as the massive Grimm launched the girl into the trees, directly toward where she had been hiding, Neo reacted.

She cast an illusion, falling back deeper into the woods and out of sight.

From her cover, she watched the girl hit the ground hard. Struggling. Barely moving. Then, forcing herself upright—and running.

And Neo—without knowing exactly why—followed.

Of all the things Neo had expected when chasing the so-called Huntsman who had caused so much panic near the Caravan, this wasn’t it.

She hadn’t expected to see her.

And she certainly hadn’t expected to get tackled into the muddy ground by a crying girl in red.

As Neo lay flat on her back, staring up into the pouring rain with Ruby clinging to her like a lifeline, she was... stunned.

She was a criminal. A thief. A master of improvisation. She’d escaped impossible odds more times than she could count. But this?

This wasn’t in her playbook.

She didn’t know what to do.

So, she simply stayed still.

And after a beat, hesitantly—awkwardly—she began to rub the younger girl’s back. Slow, small circles. She wasn’t sure if it was comforting, but Ruby didn’t let go.

Eventually, the sobbing began to subside. The storm reclaimed the soundscape around them, a steady rhythm of rainfall and distant thunder.

Neo waited.

When enough time had passed, she shifted slightly. Ruby took the hint and finally rolled off her, collapsing into the mud beside her with a quiet sigh.

They sat like that for a while. Saying nothing.

Just listening.

After a few minutes, Neo stood and retrieved her scroll—she had dropped it during the tackle. Wiping the screen clean, she opened her notes app and typed out a simple question.

She turned it toward Red and held it up.

“Do you feel better now?”

Red blinked at the screen, sniffled, then let out a weak, wet laugh.

“…A little.”

Neo gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Neo quickly typed out a message to Roman, letting him know that she had taken care of the Huntress situation—and that there was an ancient Grimm lurking in the area. She warned him to be extra cautious and that she would meet him back in Vale.

With the message sent, Neo turned back to face the red-themed girl, tapping away at her scroll again. She held it up for Red to see:

"Who are you, and why are you out here by yourself?"

Red rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, giving a sheepish smile.

"Oh, I’m Ruby Rose. Huntress-in-training at Beacon," she said. "I just... needed to blow off some steam."

Neo raised an eyebrow at that. She typed a quick, sharp reply:

"In the middle of a Grimm-infested forest? Alone?"

Ruby’s smile faltered. As her silver eyes read the words, Neo caught a flicker of something deeper—something painfully familiar.

Sadness.

Not the fleeting kind, but the heavy, lingering kind that comes from being truly, profoundly alone. Neo's expression softened, memories of her own isolated childhood flashing through her mind—rigid rules, harsh expectations, and no one truly on her side.

Without hesitation, Neo typed again before Ruby could respond:

"You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to. Are you able to jog or run?"

Ruby wiped at her face, giving a small nod. "Yeah... I think so. Just not as fast as usual."

Neo’s fingers flew across the screen:

"Good. Let's get moving. We need to reach Vale before they lock the gates at 2 AM."

Once Ruby finished reading, Neo spun on her heel and started power-walking, forcing a determined pace. If they didn’t hurry, they would be stuck outside the kingdom all night.

The two walked in silence.

Ruby kept glancing at her silent companion, piecing together bits of information: Neo didn’t speak, and given how fast she relied on her scroll, it wasn’t just a preference—it was likely something deeper, something permanent.

The forest gradually thinned, and the towering walls of Vale loomed ahead.

The rain had finally stopped, which Ruby was immensely grateful for. She might still be soaked and muddy, but at least she wasn’t getting more miserable by the second.

As they got closer, the walls seemed to stretch higher and higher into the sky. Ruby spotted the main road and, more importantly—the open gate.

They had made it.

Ruby reached for her scroll to check the time, only to realize with a sinking heart that it was dead. Completely drained.

Panic prickled her skin.

"Miss Neapolitan—" she began, only to be cut off as Neo spun around and poked her in the forehead lightly.

Neo smirked and held up her scroll:

"Call me Neo. Drop the 'Miss.' I’m only 19."

Ruby blinked, stunned for a second, then stammered, "M-my scroll’s dead. I won’t be able to get through security!"

Panic flooded her chest.

Ever since the White Fang’s attack on the Vytal Festival earlier that semester, security around Vale had been tightened to extreme levels. No ID, no entry. And if she somehow managed to talk her way in, she would still face the consequences back at Beacon—curfew violations weren’t taken lightly.

Expulsion even hovered at the edge of her fears.

Neo, meanwhile, just rolled her eyes and typed out a new message:

"Stay close. Don't say a word unless I tell you. No sudden movements. Stay behind me."

Ruby swallowed hard and nodded.

As they neared the entrance, Ruby’s stomach twisted itself into knots.

The guards were fully armed—Atlas-issued battle gear, state-of-the-art weapons, and automated sentry units scanning everyone passing through. They looked ready to stop a battalion, not just two exhausted girls.

Still, Ruby obeyed, sticking close behind Neo.

Neo, for her part, walked forward confidently, almost casually, as if she belonged there.

And something strange happened—

Nobody stopped them.

They moved through the checkpoint like ghosts.

Ruby’s heart pounded so hard she was sure it would give them away. But the guards didn't so much as glance at them. Even the mechanical sensors seemed to overlook them entirely.

By the time they slipped past the last guard, Ruby was trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the adrenaline rush.

They had just broken the law.

Sneaking into Vale wasn’t just a rule violation—it was a serious offense. Ruby had expected to feel deep shame. Instead… she felt exhilarated.

They had made it.

Eventually, Neo slowed down and turned to face her. She tapped away at her scroll again and held it up:

"Okay, Red. You have two choices.

Go back to Beacon and hope they don't roast you alive...

Or tag along with me, and tell me why you were alone in the forest... over some ice cream."

Ruby's eyes widened slightly at the last part.

Her exhaustion, fear, and anxiety melted away almost instantly.

"Ice cream?" she said, almost breathlessly, like it was a sacred word.

Neo’s smirk widened. She knew she had her answer without even needing to hear it.

Ruby bounced lightly on her feet despite herself, her spirits visibly lifting.

Ruby quickly nodded in agreement, but then her excitement dimmed as reality set back in.

"I would," Ruby said shyly, "but... it's really late. I don't think there are any ice cream shops open in Vale right now." She looked down, almost embarrassed. "And... I'm still broke."

Neo simply smirked at that, not missing a beat. Without a word, she turned on her heel and pointed toward the warehouse district, motioning for Ruby to follow her.

Ruby stood frozen for a moment, torn. After all, she was already way past curfew. What harm could a little longer out really cause? It’s not like... anyone was waiting for her back at Beacon, she thought bitterly.
Ruby quickly shook the thought away—no use dwelling on it—and hurried after Neo.

They wound through the dimly lit back alleys and narrow side streets of Vale, the distant hum of city life muffled by the heavy stone and steel buildings around them. The rain-slicked pavement reflected the occasional neon signs, splashing pink, green, and blue across the deserted alleys. Ruby struggled a little to keep up, the exhaustion creeping back into her muscles.

Eventually, a familiar pink neon glow broke through the darkness ahead—the Parlor Express, its sign flickering slightly but still burning brightly against the shadows of the warehouse district.

Ruby blinked, genuinely surprised.

They're still open?

Neo led the way inside, and the moment they stepped through the door, a wave of warmth hit Ruby like a physical force. She hadn't realized how cold she had gotten. Her Aura had been working overtime, barely keeping the chill from sinking into her bones, and her still-damp clothes clung tightly to her skin. The rich scent of sugar, waffle cones, and cocoa filled the air, immediately making her stomach growl.

At the counter, Neo poked Ruby sharply in the side, drawing a surprised squeak from her. Ruby looked down to see Neo pointing insistently toward a secluded booth tucked away in the corner.

Ruby got the message. Wordlessly, she trudged over to the booth and sank into the aged leather seat, feeling her body relax for the first time in hours.

Neo wasn’t long. Soon enough, she arrived with a bowl piled high with two scoops of ice cream—cookie dough and strawberry. Ruby’s favorites.

Ruby beamed. "Thank you!" she said earnestly before digging in, the cold, sweet dessert tasting like heaven after a night like this. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was. The ice cream disappeared in record time.

When Ruby finally looked up, she found Neo sitting across from her, making hand signs—Vale Sign Language.

Ruby shook her head, a little sheepish. "I'm sorry... I don't know Vale sign."

Neo gave a small nod, clearly not surprised, and pulled out her scroll. She typed quickly, then pushed the screen across the table for Ruby to see:

"So why were you in the forest, Red?"

Ruby stiffened slightly. She had known this conversation was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

She fiddled with the spoon in her now-empty bowl.

"I was... trying to let off some steam," Ruby said, her voice low. "Needed time to think."

Neo tilted her head, a silent prompt, and typed again:

"Did something happen?"

Ruby hesitated. The memories came rushing back—the harsh words, the accusations, the betrayal. Her heart ached. Tears stung her silver eyes before she could stop them.

"They... they called me a monster," she whispered, staring down at her lap. "My own sister. And Nora. They said I was dangerous..."

The dam broke. Ruby told Neo everything. About overhearing her team in the library. About Weiss berating her. About Nora’s words in combat class. About feeling completely isolated and abandoned.

As she spoke, tears rolled down her cheeks, and she curled in on herself, trying to become smaller, to hide. "I just wanted friends. People who cared about me. But now... now they probably all think I'm some kind of monster..."

Neo listened without interruption, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. Occasionally, a flash of anger crossed her face—disgust not at Ruby, but at the people who had hurt her.

Finally, without warning, Neo slid out from her side of the booth and dropped down beside Ruby.

She wrapped her arms tightly around the younger girl, pulling her into a hug.

Ruby froze for a second—then shattered, sobbing into Neo’s shoulder. Neo just held her, steady and silent.

Minutes later, when Ruby’s tears had finally slowed to hiccupping sniffles, Neo pulled out her scroll again and held it up.

"You are NOT a monster."

"You’re talented. Gifted. Don't let other people's ignorance decide who you are."

Neo pulled the scroll back, typing something else, then presented it again:

"I've met monsters. My parents were monsters. Trust me—you’re nothing like them."

Ruby stared at the words through her blurry vision—and smiled.  Here was someone who hadn't just saved her life, but who listened to her, believed her... without judgment, without conditions. Someone who saw her.

Neo handed over the scroll once more:

"Give me your contact info. If you ever need anything, message me."

Ruby's smile widened. She eagerly took Neo's scroll and entered her information, handing it back with a small flourish.

Neo typed another quick question:

"So, Red... what do you like to do?"

And just like that, they fell into easy conversation. Ruby talked, and Neo typed.

They chatted about favorite weapons, fighting styles, sweets, even silly things like favorite colors.

Ruby didn’t notice how much time slipped by—only that she hadn't felt this happy, this normal , in what felt like forever.

Eventually, though, Neo tapped her scroll again with a soft click , ending the conversation.

"Red, I need to head out. There's a hotel down the street. Tell them you're a friend of mine."

Ruby blinked. "But... I'm not old enough to rent a room—"

Neo smirked.

Ruby tried again. "But I don't have the money—"

Neo cut her off by sliding a small wad of cash across the table.

Ruby stared, open-mouthed, then looked up at Neo’s scroll:

"Don't worry about it."

As they stepped outside, Ruby turned, hesitating. "Does this... does this make us friends?"

Neo grinned mischievously, gave her a thumbs-up, and turned away with a playful twirl of her parasol.

Ruby's heart swelled.

She made a friend.

— Later, across the street... —

Neo lingered under the faint glow of a broken streetlamp, watching Ruby make her way toward the industrial district’s infamous "Thieves’ Inn."

Despite its name, the place was relatively safe—Roman and Junior had bought controlling interest years ago under a series of fake companies. Roman had always said the name was "too iconic" to change. Neo thought it was a little too obvious, but she supposed it kept certain types away.

She pulled out her scroll and sent two quick messages:

"Have a friend stopping by. No funny business."

"I might have found our solution to the burning problem. We might finally be free of her ."

Neo closed the scroll and smiled to herself, the cool autumn air swirling around her.

Maybe... just maybe... everything was finally starting to fall into place.

Chapter Text

Months Earlier

A lone bulkhead slipped silently through Vale’s airspace, its engines whispering as it descended toward the outer zone of the industrial district. It dipped low, sliding between two massive warehouses until it disappeared into the shadowed docks—undetected, unseen.

“That was close,” Roman Torchwick muttered with a sigh as the hatch hissed open. He adjusted his hat, stepping down onto the slick metal catwalks of the airdocks.

This was supposed to be simple. Just another Dust job. He’d scoped the target for a week straight: no Huntsmen patrols at night, no upgraded security, no silent alarms. It should have been clean, fast, easy.

But nothing had been easy since he and Neo were forced into working with her.

Roman grimaced, his lip curling. He thought back to that first meeting with Cinder Fall—if you could even call it a “meeting” and not a shakedown. Every instinct had screamed to run, to grab Neo and vanish before the spider’s web finished closing. Should’ve told her to run, he thought bitterly. Should’ve cut and run myself.

But he hadn’t. And here they were.

He shoved the thought aside, trying to clear his mind as he strode toward the nearest warehouse. His boots echoed against the wet steel. “Maybe if Neo had been there... maybe if Red—”

A sudden burning sensation seared up his arm. Roman cursed, yanking back instinctively. His head snapped toward the source.

“What the fu—”

The words died in his throat.

Cinder stood a few paces away, hand raised. Smoke curled lazily from the scorch mark she’d just branded into his sleeve. The immaculate white fabric was now a ruined mix of brown and black. Her eyes glittered with something unhinged, and for a heartbeat Roman was sure she was about to turn him into ash where he stood.

“What color were her eyes?” she asked.

The question caught him completely off guard. He expected a lecture about the near-miss with a Huntress, not… whatever this was.

“Pardon?” Roman blinked, his usual smirk failing him.

Wrong move.

Cinder’s eyes darkened, glowing with a molten, primordial amber. Her voice sharpened, every syllable edged with fire. “Her eyes. What color were they?”

Roman’s mind raced. He replayed the fight in his head—the store, the chaos, that kid with the red hood. “I don’t know. I swapped places with you as soon as I saw the Huntress.”

“Not her.” Cinder’s lip curled, her tone venomous now. “The child.”

Roman froze. His chest tightened. Red.

Why would Cinder care about a kid’s eyes? He closed his own for a second, forcing himself to remember. He recalled the way she’d moved—faster and sharper than anyone that young should’ve been. The way she’d dismantled Junior’s goons without killing a single one, though she easily could have. The strength in her strikes, the control. And then…

This is the end of the line, Red, he’d shouted, about to fire a Dust crystal.

And she’d turned. They’d locked eyes.

Silver. Bright, burning silver. Not gray. Not pale. Silver.

Roman’s stomach sank.

He opened his eyes again and found Cinder’s gaze boring into him, molten fire in human form. If he told her the truth, that girl was finished. Hunted. Torn apart by whatever madness Cinder was chasing.

Roman Torchwick was a thief. A liar. A crook who never pretended otherwise. But there were lines even he wouldn’t cross. And siccing a psychopath like Cinder on some wide-eyed kid? That was one of them.

“She had gray eyes,” Roman lied smoothly, forcing a shrug. “Not too different from that gray-haired kid you’ve always got tailing you around.”

Cinder’s flame flared higher, licking at the air between them. The heat pressed against his Aura, searing hot.

“Are you absolutely certain?” she asked, her voice low, dangerous.

Roman forced a grin, though his palms were slick with sweat. “As certain as you are crazy, sweetheart.”

For a long, terrible second, he thought that was it. That he’d gambled wrong, and his ashes were about to decorate the dockside.

Then—just as suddenly—Cinder relaxed. The flame died. Her expression smoothed back into that sarcastic, lazy smirk she wore when she thought she had all the power in the room.

“Very well,” she said, brushing past him, her heels clicking against the steel. “Next time, don’t be sloppy enough to get foiled by a child playing hero.”

Roman didn’t move. Not until she disappeared into the warehouse shadows.

Only then did he exhale, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the encounter. He stared at the scorched hole in his sleeve and shook his head. One wrong answer, and I’d be a pile of cinders myself.

Still… his mind wouldn’t let it go. Silver eyes. He didn’t know what they meant, but he knew this: they’d rattled Cinder. And anything that rattled her? That was opportunity.

If it turned out to be nothing, fine—he’d at least spared the kid from a monster’s obsession. But if it was something?

Roman Torchwick intended to find out.

Weeks Earlier

The bassline thumped like a pulse through the walls of the nightclub, the air thick with perfume, smoke, and sweat. Roman Torchwick slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, his hat tipped low and his white suit gleaming under the neon haze.

He noted the changes immediately. The place had been closed for weeks, and now there were fresh furnishings, new tables, and tellingly, a faint black scorch along one wall where the wood and steel had been patched over. Junior’s bouncers pretended not to notice, but Roman smirked.

So the rumors were true. Some blonde hothead had turned the place into a bonfire.

He chuckled darkly to himself. Good thing it wasn’t the witch. If it had been Cinder, this whole building, and everyone in it, would’ve been nothing but ash by now.

He strolled up to the bar where Junior was polishing a glass, his face as sour as the whiskey he served.

“So, Junior,” Roman drawled, leaning against the counter. “What did your informants dig up for me?”

“Not much,” Junior replied curtly.

Roman’s smile slipped. His usual smug mask dropped as he straightened, fixing Junior with a sharp look. “What do you mean ‘not much’? I paid good money. I’ve been putting business your way for years.” His tone wasn’t angry, but firm—confused, even. Junior’s intel web stretched across Vale and beyond. If you wanted someone found, Junior found them. That was how it worked.

Junior exhaled through his nose, setting the glass down. “Listen. The girl’s name is Ruby Rose. She was a student at Signal Academy, a junior Huntsman school. Got bumped up to Beacon two years early.”

Roman’s eyebrows rose. “Two years? No formal reason?”

“None given,” Junior said, shrugging. “But considering her reputation, I’m not surprised.”

Roman leaned in, interest piqued. “And what reputation would that be?”

Junior flicked his eyes toward him. “Prodigy. Leagues above her peers. According to the combat reports I got my hands on, she could fight three or four aura users her age at once without breaking a sweat. Sometimes Signal’s instructors even pitted whole teams against her just to give the other kids a fighting chance.”

Roman’s lips curled into a frown. That explains how she kept up with me. And how she mopped the floor with your guys, Junior.

But Junior wasn’t finished. “Thing is… she was an outsider. Didn’t have many friends. The other students started whispering about her. Said she was unnatural. A monster. That she must have done something inhuman to get so strong so fast.”

Roman went still.

Monster. Outsider. Rumors and whispers. It all sounded too familiar. He remembered his own childhood in Mantle—always the odd one out, the boy nobody wanted to trust, a den full of snakes ready to bite.

“What’d you find on those rumors?” Roman asked after a moment.

Junior snorted. “Nothing but hot air. Petty gossip. No proof of anything. Just kids scared of someone better than them.”

Roman tapped his cane against the counter, thoughtful. So Red’s been an outsider from the start.

“Anything else?” he pressed.

“Family of Huntsmen. From Patch. Beyond that?” Junior shrugged. “Nothing special.”

Roman clicked his tongue. “Nothing special, huh?” He leaned forward on the counter, eyes narrowing as he swept a quick glance around the club before pressing, “Alright then—what about the second thing?”

Junior hesitated, then ducked behind the counter. He returned with an old, worn book and dropped it on the bar. The cover read: A Tale of the Silver Warriors and Other Fairy Stories of Remnant.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “A children’s book? Really? That’s what you’ve got for me?”

Junior’s voice was flat. “You asked about eye colors. Colored eyes are everywhere. You want legends, that’s all I found.”

Roman stared at the book for a long moment before sighing. He hated when Junior was right. This didn’t give him answers—only more questions.

He stood, tossing a fat wad of Lien onto the bar. Junior scooped it up without a word.

“Thanks again, Junior,” Roman said, tipping his hat. Then he paused, his voice dropping low and sharp. “Oh—and if anyone else comes sniffing around asking about her? Or about Silver Eyes? Lie. Tell them nothing. Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”

Junior gave a single nod and slid the Lien under the counter. He understood. For all the chaos in the underworld, there was still a code. Men like him and Roman might be crooks, but they weren’t savages.

Roman turned and left the bar, his mind racing.

Silver eyes. A prodigy. A kid already marked as a monster by the people around her.

He adjusted his hat against the neon glow as he stepped back into the night.

A tap on his shoulder.

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Neo leaned against the wall, twirling her umbrella idly, her mismatched eyes sparkling with that playful glint.

“Took your time,” Roman muttered, forcing a smirk.. “I was beginning to think you’d ditched me for a new dance partner.”

Neo rolled her eyes and signed a sharp gesture with her fingers. Did you find what you were looking for?

Roman exhaled through his nose, the smirk dying. “…Not enough.”

For a moment, the rain-slicked street felt heavier. He didn’t like chasing shadows, and this—this business with the kid’s eyes—reeked of something ancient and ugly.

He glanced at Neo, who cocked her head expectantly.

The smirk slipped away entirely now. “If our firestarter witch is rattled just by Red’s eyes, then there’s something bigger we’re not seeing.”

Roman pulled a slim cigar from his case, turned it between his fingers, and stared at it like the answer might be written in the leaf. After a long beat, he set it back, snapped the case shut, and slid it into his coat with a growl.

“…And until we figure out what, we dig.”

Neo tilted her head, lips curving into the faintest smile—more secret than playful this time. She twirled her parasol once, tapped it lightly against the cobblestones, and fell into step beside him without a word.

Chapter Text

As Ruby approached the inn, a knot began to twist in her stomach.

The Thieves’ Inn had a reputation in Vale. Whispers of shady clientele and backroom dealings clung to it like cigarette smoke, never fully proven, never fully denied. The Vale PD and Huntsmen had raided it more than once, yet always came up empty-handed. Still, its location near the docks and deep within the industrial district kept the rumors alive. Crime flourished all around it, yet somehow never seemed to touch it.

When Ruby pushed open the heavy door, the knot tightened.

The interior looked exactly like she had imagined a place for criminals to gather: slightly run-down, dimly lit, and furnished with battered relics that could’ve been there since the end of the Great War. The stale air smelled faintly of oil, wood polish, and smoke.

Did Neo set me up? The thought slithered into her mind, unbidden. She had only just met Neo, saved by her, yes, but trust was another matter entirely. Could she betray me too?

Ruby swallowed down the fear burning in her chest and forced herself to walk up to the reception desk.

The man sitting behind it looked old, older than Qrow, maybe even Ozpin. Bald, with a scar that ran jaggedly down his face from brow to mouth, his skin leathery from years of battle. His eyes, half-focused on the glow of his computer screen, flicked briefly at Ruby before dismissing her.

Ruby shifted on her feet and quietly raised what little aura she had managed to recover. She knew better than to underestimate anyone. People underestimated her all the time, and she had proved them wrong.

She stood there. Waiting. And waiting. After nearly three minutes, she coughed softly.

The man finally looked up, his voice gravelly and slow. “Ah. How can I help you tonight, little miss? Lost, are you?”

“Hi. No,” Ruby replied meekly. “I was hoping to get a room for the night.”

The man frowned, sighing. “Little miss, you don’t look old enough to rent a room. Especially not here. If you’d like, I can call a driver to take you back to the city.” His tone carried no malice, just tired dismissal.

Ruby froze. He was right. She wasn’t old enough. And not here, of all places. She bit her lip, unsure what to say, until she remembered.

“Wait. I—I’m friends with Neo.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor changed. His eyes sharpened, his posture straightened. “Ah. Miss Ruby, correct?” Gone was the lazy rasp; his tone was steady now, respectful. “My apologies. I hadn’t realized. That will be 250 lien.”

Ruby quickly counted out the bills Neo had given her and handed them over.

“Second door on the right,” the man said, pointing toward a shabby seating area.

Ruby blinked in confusion. “What door—?”

Before she could finish, the couch and the wall behind it swung open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a secret passage. A large round foyer opened beyond, its two hallways lined with modern carpeting and copper-trimmed doors. Elegant light fixtures glowed along the walls, a crystal chandelier hanging above a polished table at the far end. Two suited men sat at the table, weapons resting at their sides. They nodded politely as she entered but made no move to rise.

Ruby’s heart hammered.

“Don’t worry, miss,” the receptionist chuckled. “They’re here for security.”

Ruby nodded stiffly and stepped through. The wall sealed behind her with a click, leaving her alone in the quiet hall.

She reached her assigned door, then froze. No key. She turned toward the guards, ready to ask, when the door opened on its own.

Inside was a lavish suite: a full living and dining room, modern décor, and a second door that no doubt led to a bedroom. Ruby quickly entered, locked the door, and shoved a chair under the handle for good measure.

Then she began to search.

Mirrors shifted, drawers opened, outlets checked, walls tapped. She combed through every corner with practiced paranoia. When satisfied there were no hidden entrances or listening devices she could find, she opened the second door.

The bedroom was just as extravagant, bed, bathroom, and all. Ruby sighed, exhaustion pressing heavy on her shoulders. Qrow would kill me if I didn’t check, she thought bitterly. Summoning the last of her strength, she repeated the process.

Again, nothing.

Except one detail, a spare charger. With relief, Ruby plugged in her scroll, peeled off her cloak, and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep hit her hard and fast.

RING RING RING

Ruby groaned, slapping her scroll. Her eyes opened slowly, awareness trickling back. A: she had slept in her mud-stained clothes. B: yesterday had actually happened.

“…Crap,” she muttered.

She unplugged her scroll and blinked at the notifications.

Four New Messages.
Three Missed Calls.

One from Beacon. Two from Qrow.

Ruby’s stomach dropped as she read the messages:

Qrow: Ruby, where are you?
Qrow: Please be safe, kiddo. Call me ASAP.

Her lips trembled into a small smile. At least Qrow still cared.

The message from Beacon made her blood run cold.
Your absence has been reported. Please report to the Headmaster’s office as soon as possible.

Her chest tightened. Would she get detention? Suspension? Expulsion? Tears stung her eyes before she shook her head. Later. Worry about it later.

The last message pulled her up short:

Unknown: Hi Ruby. I should’ve given you enough money for the hotel and a little extra. Feel free to use it however you want :) – Neo

Ruby’s eyes softened. She saved the number and quickly added Neo as a contact. Thank you again, she typed back, fingers shaking slightly.

Then she pressed Qrow’s number.

After a single ring, his raspy voice snapped through the receiver. “RUBY—WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Ruby winced, holding the scroll away. “Hi, Uncle Qrow, I—”

“Are you okay? I couldn’t reach you yesterday!” His voice dropped into worry, almost pleading. “Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

Ruby’s throat tightened. “No, I’m fine. My scroll died. I’m in Vale. I couldn’t get back to Beacon because the shuttles had stopped. I… I stayed at a hotel.” Half-truths. Enough to calm him.

Qrow’s sigh was audible even through static. “Ozpin said he saw you take off into the forest, then lost your signal. What happened?”

Ruby stared at the floor, silence dragging between them.

“I… had to blow off some steam,” she admitted softly. “I lost track of time hunting Grimm.”

Another heavy sigh. “Ruby, you know how dangerous that is. Alone? Out there?”

“I know. I know. But I just… didn’t want to be with my team. I needed space.”

Qrow’s voice softened. “It’s alright, kiddo. Just—next time, let someone know. And bring spare batteries for your scroll.” A faint chuckle. “I’m in Mistral for a job, but I’ll be back in Vale in a week or two. How about we go hunting together then? You can tell me all about Beacon.”

Ruby smiled, tension breaking just a little. “That sounds nice. I’ll talk to you later, Uncle Qrow. Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo. Stay safe.”

The line clicked dead.

Ruby sat there, scroll in her lap, staring at her reflection in the black screen. Relief warred with dread. She would have to face Ozpin soon. But for now, at least, she wasn’t completely alone.

Once Ruby had gathered her bearings and cleaned herself up as best she could, she packed her things and prepared to leave the inn. One of the suited guards quietly guided her through a side corridor and a hidden exit, pointing out a narrow path that would avoid security cameras and keep her movements unrecorded.

Ruby didn’t argue. She followed their instructions step for step, and before long she was back in Vale’s urban district, boarding a morning shuttle bound for Beacon.

The ride was uneventful, though Ruby noticed a few passengers giving her side-eyes. Her cloak and boots were still stiff with dried mud, her gear scuffed and dulled by yesterday’s rampage. But in Vale, no one stared for long. Huntsmen were a common sight in far worse states of disarray after missions. A girl her age still drew some whispers, but they quickly died away.

By the time Ruby touched down on Beacon’s landing pads, the first classes of the day had already begun. That gave her a small blessing: the walk to the headmaster’s office was uninterrupted. Still, she felt uneasy at how quickly she reached the elevator. She hadn’t fully decided how to explain her absence or what pieces of the truth she could safely admit.

The elevator chimed, and the polished steel doors slid open.

“Good morning, Miss Rose.” Ozpin’s calm, measured voice met her as soon as she entered. He sat at his desk, steaming mug in hand, his gaze warm yet unreadable. “How was your hunting?”

Ruby froze. The shame that had been building in her stomach since last night twisted tighter. She rubbed the back of her neck and avoided his eyes. “Good morning, Headmaster. It… went well enough.”

There was a pause. Then, quieter, almost too soft: “Professor, do you think… do you think you made a mistake? Letting me into Beacon two years early?”

Ozpin set his mug down gently, the porcelain clink echoing in the silence. He leaned forward, folding his hands. “Ruby. I've made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment I would not consider your acceptance into Beacon among them. Nor your appointment as leader.” His green eyes sharpened, pinning her in place. “Do you consider it one?”

Ruby’s throat tightened. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Miss Rose,” Ozpin continued, softer now, “you are not in trouble.”

Her head snapped up, startled.

“I understand there was an incident yesterday during combat class,” he went on, his tone matter-of-fact. “Words exchanged. A spar that escalated. Miss Valkyrie’s remarks struck a nerve, didn’t they?”

Ruby swallowed hard. “Yes, Headmaster. She… she called me a monster.” Her voice cracked, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. “I came here to learn how to fight monsters. Not to be treated like one.”

The words hung in the air, raw and heavy.

Ozpin regarded her for a long moment, then leaned back with a weary sigh. “Ruby, I have spent lifetimes fighting monsters. I have studied them, chased them, lost friends and students to them. And I will tell you plainly—you are not one of them.” His voice firmed, carrying the weight of certainty. “You are gifted. Trained far beyond your years. You carry a will and a compassion that many lack. Do not let careless words diminish that truth. You may be younger than your peers, but you have the heart of a leader—and you will succeed, if you choose to.”

Ruby blinked, surprised by the conviction in his voice. Her eyes burned, and she managed a small, “Thank you, Headmaster.”

He nodded once. “Now, I understand you remained in Vale last night because you missed the last shuttle back?”

Ruby nodded quickly. “Yes. My scroll died too, so I couldn’t call anyone. I didn’t mean to—”

Ozpin lifted a hand to cut her off, his smile faint but reassuring. “It happens. For future reference, you may contact Beacon’s emergency line if you are stranded. We will ensure your safe return, even within Vale.”

Ruby frowned. “I thought the emergency line was only for… well, emergencies. Like Grimm attacks, or bandits.”

For the first time, Ozpin’s expression shifted. He sighed, heavier, older and swiveled his chair to face the towering window behind his desk. The spires of Beacon gleamed in the morning light, but there was a shadow in his voice.

“These are dangerous times, Miss Rose. The White Fang has grown bolder. Attacks are escalating. And…” His words slowed, as though he were weighing each carefully. “…there are forces at work that even I do not yet understand. They seek to undermine the Kingdoms. The Academies.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “Sir?”

Ozpin turned back, and just like that, the weight in his eyes seemed to lift. “For now, focus on your studies. Leave the larger problems to those whose burden it is to bear. But if you ever feel in danger, or find yourself lost again—use that line. Understood?”

Ruby nodded, chastened. “Yes, Headmaster.”

“Good.” He smiled faintly, reaching for his mug again. “One last matter—you have been excused from classes today. Use the time wisely.” His eyes flicked meaningfully to her outfit. “I would suggest acquiring a replacement for your combat attire.”

Ruby glanced down, truly seeing her outfit for the first time. The cloak was threadbare at the edges, the reinforced fabric shredded and hanging on by stitches. Mud caked nearly every seam. What she had thought were superficial scratches were actually deep tears, some barely holding together. She flushed scarlet.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she mumbled.

Ozpin gave a knowing nod.

Ruby retreated quickly to the elevator, exhaling only once the doors closed behind her. On the ground floor, she wasted no time—her semblance carried her in a blur across Beacon’s lawns and halls, straight back toward her dorm. Now acutely aware of every stare, every whisper that might follow her ruined clothes, she could think of nothing else but changing before anyone else noticed.

Ruby zipped down the empty halls, a crimson blur echoing in the silence. She was grateful most students were still in class, fewer eyes to notice her ruined clothes or the storm still brewing behind her silver gaze. As she neared the dorm, her pace slowed, until she was only walking, each step heavier than the last.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob. A cold knot twisted in her stomach.

What if they’re inside?

The thought hit like a punch. She could almost see it—three pairs of eyes waiting beyond the door, staring at her with contempt, with disappointment.

Ruby shook her head violently. No. They’re in class. They have to be.

She forced herself forward and opened the door. Relief flickered through her when she found the room empty. Moving quickly, she grabbed her regular clothes and slipped into the bathroom.

Steam filled the air as she turned on the shower, stripping off the tattered remains of her outfit. The first touch of hot water made her hiss, but then she let it wash over her, carrying away the mud and grime caked into her skin. She leaned against the cool tile, letting her thoughts drift where she didn’t want them to go.

Why do I still care about what they think of me she wondered bitterly. Why do I keep hoping they’d accept me? Even after everything?

The truth stung. Some part of her, small and stubborn, still wanted their acknowledgement. Still craved the comfort of friendship. And it made her feel weak. Pathetic.

Ruby scrubbed at her skin harder, as if she could erase the thought.

Eventually she stepped out, wrapped herself in a towel, and began changing into her casual clothes. As she tugged her shirt over her head, her mind kept circling back to the same point: Why should I care for people who don’t want me? Who will never—

The sound of the dorm door opening froze her in place.

Ruby stiffened, every muscle tense. She pressed herself against the bathroom wall, straining to listen.

“I told you, Blake—she’s not back.” Weiss’s sharp voice cut through the muffled air.

“She’s right, you know.” Yang. Annoyed. Dismissive.

Ruby’s chest tightened.

“She’s a kid, running from responsibility,” Weiss continued, voice dripping disdain. “When she’s done being a childish brat, she’ll crawl back.”

Ruby’s breath hitched.

“That’s not entirely fair,” Blake’s voice interrupted.

Hope flared in Ruby’s chest. Blake…?

“People have reasons for running away,” Blake continued carefully. “Sometimes it’s not as simple as—”

“For Brother’s sake, don’t defend her,” Weiss snapped. “She runs around in a cape like some storybook child.”

Whatever.” Yang’s voice came again, flat, almost bored. “She’s strong enough to handle herself. If she wants to act like some unstoppable monster, then let her. Monsters don’t need anyone to look after them.

The sound of two sets of footsteps followed, fading toward the door.

Ruby stayed frozen, her heart hammering. One voice lingered.

“Blake, come on—we’ll be late.” Weiss again, impatient from the hall.

“I’ll be there in a second.” Blake’s reply was quieter.

Ruby barely breathed as she heard footsteps approach the bathroom door. For a moment, she swore she could feel Blake’s golden eyes burning through the wood, seeing her cower inside.

“I don’t understand you, Ruby,” Blake said softly, her voice barely carrying. “But I don’t hate you either. Just… if you really are the monster Yang thinks you are, I won’t let you hurt her.”

And then Blake turned and left, her footsteps fading into silence.

Ruby stood there, gripping the sink so tightly her knuckles went white. Whatever fragile hope had stirred at Blake’s defense was gone, crushed under the weight of Yang’s indifference, Weiss’s contempt, and now… even Blake’s guarded threat.

A monster.
A brat.
Childish.

She swallowed hard. Her reflection in the mirror wavered, silver eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Ruby’s scroll buzzed, dragging her out of the spiral in her head.

Neo: Happy to help. Let me know if you need anything.

Ruby stared at the message. Her thumb hovered over the screen, trembling. A part of her wanted to delete it, shove the scroll away, pretend she didn’t care. Reaching out would mean admitting she did need someone. Admitting her team had broken something in her.

Her chest ached. She almost set the scroll down. Almost.

But then she remembered Yang’s words. Weiss’s contempt. Blake’s warning. 

Monsters don’t need anyone to look after them.

Her jaw tightened. Fine. If they wouldn’t stand by her, then she’d stand with the one person who had.

Ruby’s thumbs moved before she could stop herself:

Ruby: I know it’s sudden, but could we meet? I need a new combat outfit… and I’m not exactly fashionable.

For a moment, nothing. Ruby’s heart sank, regret bubbling up until her scroll lit up almost immediately.

Neo: Of course. Meet me at Dress to Dawn, Southside shopping district. It’ll be fun.

Ruby blinked. That was fast. Too fast. Almost as if Neo had been waiting.

She let out a shaky laugh anyway, though nothing about it felt funny. A monster. A brat. Childish. The insults still burned, but Neo’s words glowed warm on her screen. It’ll be fun.

“Fine,” Ruby muttered. “Let them think I’m a monster.”

She typed back, her fingers steadier than expected:
Ruby: On my way. Thanks… for being here.

Slipping the scroll into her pocket, Ruby stood taller. Her team could keep their distance. She wouldn’t beg for their approval. If they wouldn’t be her family, then she’d forge new bonds, fragile or not.

And maybe, just maybe, Neo wanted that too. Or maybe she wanted something else entirely. Ruby pushed the thought away. For now, she was just glad not to be alone.

Chapter Text

Ruby felt out of place standing in front of possibly the fanciest store she had ever seen. The glass windows gleamed under the streetlights, showcasing mannequins draped in gowns and combat gear that looked more like art than clothing. Inside, clerks eyed her from behind their displays, their sharp gazes silently whispering: you don’t belong here.

Ruby tugged at her frayed cape and sighed. Of course Neo would pick a place like this. Even Neo’s own outfit, simple but clean, paired with that ever-present parasol screamed “practical elegance.” Meanwhile, Ruby had only the few lien Neo had slipped her earlier, and that definitely wouldn’t cover the cost of Dress to Dawn. She’d have to talk to Neo, find something closer to her speed.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump. Ruby spun around, and the tension bled out of her when she saw mismatched eyes sparkling with mischief. A smile crept across her face.

“Hi, Neo.”

Neo returned it with a small smile and nod.

Ruby glanced back at the display windows, then whispered, “Look… I don’t think I can afford this place.”

Neo tilted her head, confused, then snapped her fingers and strode toward the doors as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ruby hesitated, then hurried after her.

The change was immediate. The moment the clerks saw Neo, their once-dismissive looks melted into bright, almost sycophantic smiles. Ruby frowned. Weird… but okay.

“Neo, I really can’t afford this place,” she whispered again.

This time Neo stopped and faced her, brows knit together. She shook her head firmly, then pulled out her scroll and typed “Don’t worry. This one’s on me, Red. You’ll just owe me a small favor later.”

Ruby blinked. “A… favor?” But Neo was already striding toward the counter, leaving Ruby flustered and following close behind.

“Miss Politan,” the clerk greeted, tone respectful and warm. “How may I assist you today?”

Neo didn’t answer aloud just pointed over her shoulder at Ruby, then made a crisp circle with her fingers.

“Understood,” the clerk replied smoothly. “Will you be requiring additional assistance?”

Neo tilted her head, thoughtful, then glanced back at Ruby. Her eyes lingered on the girl’s worn black-and-red outfit, the frayed cape, and the scuffed skirt. With a small nod, Neo turned back to the clerk.

“Very well,” the clerk said, dipping her head. “The private room is available. Someone will be along shortly to attend to you.”

 Ruby’s mind spun. A “favor” that could pay for this? What could Neo possibly want? She didn’t have long to think before Neo waved her parasol like a conductor’s baton, signaling Ruby to follow deeper into the labyrinth of polished displays.

They reached a private dressing, large, with a wall mirror, cushioned chairs, and its own changing area. Neo flopped into a chair, pulling out her scroll. Ruby shifted nervously.

“Neo?” Her voice cracked. Neo looked up, giving her full attention.

Ruby fidgeted with her cape. “What exactly is this… favor?”

Neo considered, then typed. After a moment, she held up the scroll:

It’s nothing big, I promise. Just wear these. At least for now.

She produced a small gray box. Ruby opened it cautiously, revealing two translucent circles.

“…Contacts?”

Neo smiled, miming the act of placing one in her eye, her iris shifting color for emphasis.

Ruby frowned. “Why?”

Neo’s expression softened, almost apologetic. She typed again “I can’t explain. Not yet. But please, Red. Wear them everywhere.”

Ruby searched her face. There was weight in Neo’s mismatched eyes, something she wasn’t sharing. “Is… this it?” Ruby asked, her voice uncertain, still struggling to wrap her head around this so-called favor.

Neo only smiled and nodded, the motion almost playful but undeniably firm.

Ruby hesitated, then picked up the first contact. Moving closer to the mirror, she carefully, almost fearfully slid it into her left eye. She braced for the sting, the irritation, but… nothing came. No pain, no discomfort just the faintest weight, so light it was only noticeable if she focused on it.

Blinking, Ruby leaned in to study her reflection. A startled laugh slipped out. With only one contact in, her eyes were mismatched, one dull gray, the other still a brilliant silver. For a strange moment, she looked almost like Neo herself, a mirror of heterochromia staring back.

But the longer Ruby gazed, the stranger it felt. Something about that half-changed reflection unsettled her, as though she were peeling away a part of herself without knowing why.

Biting her lip, Ruby picked up the second contact. Slowly, carefully, she placed it over her silver eye.

When she opened them again, the silver was gone. Staring back at her from the mirror was someone… ordinary. Two dull gray eyes, unremarkable, unthreatening. If someone hadn’t known better, they might have believed she’d been that way her whole life.

Ruby turned from the mirror toward Neo, searching for some kind of anchor.

Neo regarded her with those mismatched eyes, and after a long moment, gave a sharp nod of approval.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” Ruby said quickly.

A stylist entered with an array of fabrics. Neo inspected them with sharp, decisive nods, glancing back at Ruby now and then. Piece by piece, an outfit came together reds, blacks, greys tailored not for fashion but for movement, durability, and a touch of Neo’s influence.

Neo flipped through the clothes with quick, precise motions, occasionally glancing back at Ruby as though measuring her against the fabrics. Piece by piece, she pulled whites, greys, and splashes of red into a loose ensemble. Ruby got the hint, scooped the clothes up, and slipped into the private changing room.

A few minutes later she emerged, tugging awkwardly at the hem of the shirt. The discomfort on her face said everything.

Neo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head. The stylist standing by caught the cue and nodded in agreement. “Miss…?”

“Rose,” Ruby supplied quickly.

“Miss Rose,” the stylist continued smoothly, “what would you consider your color palette? And what are your absolute yes’s and no’s?”

Ruby froze, caught off guard by the question. Her eyes flicked back to the battered outfit she’d left in the changing room—the black skirt, the worn shirt, the cape that had been with her through everything. Then she turned back to the stylist.

“...No heels, no yellow,” she started slowly, then gathered momentum. “Reds. Blacks. And…” She caught her own reflection in the mirror, those gray contacts staring back at her. “...Greys. Nothing too flashy. It has to be durable—combat-ready. And I want a way to reuse my old cape.”

The stylist nodded briskly, then walked over to examine the frayed fabric of the cape before disappearing into the back.

What followed was a blur of outfits. Ruby tried one after another, each judged with a tilt of Neo’s head or a simple approving or disapproving look. The stylist moved like clockwork, pulling new combinations with every rejection.

An hour later, the process finally ended, not with something extravagant, but with something that felt… right.

Ruby stood before the mirror in an outfit of greys, blacks, and deep crimson. Black combat boots traced with faint red highlights. Slim grey leggings that matched the shade of her altered eyes. A red-and-black belt, clasped with a silver rose pendant. A dark grey shirt with black edging, layered beneath a fitted crimson corset traced with black lace and silver trim. Over it all, an asymmetrical bolero jacket with a rose decal etched into the back.

And finally, her cape. The stylist had folded and repinned it with care, folding it to drape only over her right arm without hindering movement. Shorter now, but still distinctly hers.

Ruby turned slowly in the mirror, fingers brushing the altered fabric. It wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. But maybe… different was what she needed.

Ruby stared at herself in the mirror, and the longer she looked, the more it felt like something inside her was shifting. Not just her reflection, something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name. The outfit fit, it worked, but it also carried the strange weight of loss. As if a piece of her old self had been quietly folded away with the cape scraps and fabric clippings.

A soft jab to her arm pulled her back to reality. Ruby blinked, realizing she’d been standing there in silence, lost in thought. Neo was right behind her, expression expectant, and the stylist hovered nearby, waiting for her verdict.

“I… I like it,” Ruby finally said, her voice small but steady.

Neo grinned instantly, throwing up her hands with an exaggerated finally! motion that almost made Ruby laugh.

Still, Ruby’s gaze lingered on the mirror. Something tugged at her as Neo began tapping out a message for the stylist. It was then she noticed the little details she hadn’t seen before, the matching shades of grey, the shared splash of red, the subtle echoes in cut and style.

We look similar, Ruby realized with a jolt. Standing side by side, they could have been deliberate reflections of one another. Not identical, but linked. Like a pair of mismatched pieces that still belonged to the same set.

Once the combat outfit was settled, Neo insisted Ruby pick out a few more pieces of everyday clothing to match her new look. Ruby didn’t argue. With Neo and the stylist’s help, she left the store carrying not just one outfit, but a small collection of casual wear that actually fit the new her.

Checking her scroll, Ruby blinked. Hours had slipped by without her realizing. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew she had to get back to Beacon, at the very least to grab her books and start on homework. Just because she’d been excused from class didn’t mean she’d be excused from assignments.

“Hey, Neo,” Ruby said, shifting the bags in her arms.

Neo tilted her head, waiting.

“I hate to cut things short, but I need to get back. Thanks again for today… I really needed it.”

Neo nodded, already tapping on her scroll. “No problem, Red. Just remember to keep the contacts in.” She paused, snatched the device back, and added another line before turning it around again. “And keep your original eye color secret, unless you absolutely trust them.”

Ruby frowned. “What about the people who already know?”

Neo’s answer came after a thoughtful pause. “Lie”.

Ruby’s stomach knotted. She chewed her lip before answering, “…I can try. But I’m not exactly a great liar.”

Neo twirled her parasol, then showed another message. “Then we’ll make time to practice.”

Ruby wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. Lying didn’t sit right with her—not unless it was to protect someone. She hesitated, and Neo must have noticed, because another message popped up in her face almost immediately. “Huntresses don’t just fight monsters. Sometimes you need to lie to gather information, or protect your team. Besides… lying can be fun if you know how.” Neo’s grin was mischievous, like she’d just offered Ruby a forbidden sweet.

Ruby thought about Qrow, how he worked, how many things he must have kept secret in the name of the mission. She’d never considered that lying might one day be part of her own role as a huntress. Slowly, she nodded. “Alright. We can try. But no promises that I’ll be good at it.”

Neo’s eyes sparkled as she gave a satisfied nod, then typed out a final message: “Everyone starts somewhere. Think of this practice as just the first step.”

As Ruby started toward the exit, she paused, then turned back. “Neo… if you ever need anything, just let me know. You said this favor covered what I owed you, but it still doesn’t feel fair. So, if there’s ever anything else I can do… I mean it.”

Neo only smiled and waved her off with a flick of her fingers, parasol resting neatly against her shoulder.

Ruby walked out into the street, shopping bags at her side, a new outfit tucked under her arm, and a strange but undeniable pep in her step. She wasn’t sure where this new path was taking her but at least Neo had her back.

Once Ruby returned to Beacon, the campus was already buzzing with activity. Classes had ended for the day, and students lingered in groups, chatting and heading back to their dorms. Ruby kept her head down, weaving through the crowd until she finally reached her team’s room.

This time, there was no hesitation. No stutter at the door. No pause to consider who might be inside. If someone was there, so be it she didn’t care anymore. To her luck, the dorm was empty.

She slipped into the bathroom and changed, piecing together an outfit partly from what Neo had bought her and partly from her own wardrobe. Once satisfied, Ruby sat at her desk, pulled out the homework she had missed over the last two days, and slipped on her rose-themed headphones. The world melted away as she focused, pencil scratching across the page with steady determination.

An hour, maybe two, passed before she realized she wasn’t alone. The touch of a hand on her shoulder jolted her back to reality. Ruby sighed, pulled off her headphones, and turned to face her team.

“RUBY, WHERE HAVE YOU—” Yang’s words cut off, her expression collapsing into shock. “What’s with your eyes?”

The others stared too, each with their own blend of surprise and confusion.

That familiar sting of judgment made Ruby’s temper flare. She stood sharply, her chair clattering to the ground as she shoved Yang’s hand away. “Why? What’s wrong with my eyes?!” Her voice dripped with venom, daring Yang to press further.

Yang staggered back, wide-eyed at the sudden outburst. Now that Ruby stood, the full effect of her new look was clear, outfit sharp, eyes cold, every detail different from the sister she remembered. “They’re… grey,” Yang said at last, disbelief heavy in her tone.

Ruby remembered Neo’s words. She had grown up alongside Yang, but trust was a fragile thing and maybe this was her chance to rewrite the story. “They’ve always been a shade of grey, Yang.”

Confusion flickered across Yang’s face. “No… no, they were silver.”

Ruby scoffed, her anger bubbling over. “Don’t be childish. No, they weren’t.” She bent to pick up the chair she had knocked over, her voice sharp as glass. “They’ve just lost their luster. Not that you’d know anyway.”

Yang froze, struggling to process the words, leaving the air heavy with silence.

“That still doesn’t explain where you’ve been,” Weiss interjected, her voice crisp.

Ruby considered her for a moment. These were her teammates, yes, but that didn’t mean she owed them her entire life. She exhaled, calm but firm. “I apologize for leaving without notice. But you’re not entitled to know what I do on my own time, princess—especially when I’ve been excused from class.”

Weiss’s expression shifted rapidly, smug, then angry, then confused. After a moment’s pause, she settled on indignation. “You should have at least told us when you returned.”

Ruby’s gaze slid toward her, steady and unflinching. “Blake knew I was back.”

Weiss whipped around to face Blake. “You knew?”

Ruby said nothing more. She turned back to her desk, slipped her headphones on, and let their voices fade behind her as Weiss and Blake broke into an argument. It was wrong, she knew, but a small, guilty part of her relished the discord. At least, for once, the target wasn’t her.

As Ruby finished her homework, she slid off her headphones and realized how quiet the dorm had become. The earlier tension had given way to a heavy silence as everyone focused on their own tasks. Yet even without words, Ruby could still feel the weight of their glances. No one dared meet her eyes when she looked up, but the stares lingered all the same.

Fine. If they were going to judge her, they could do it without her around. She gathered her scroll from its charger, coiled her headphones around her neck, and walked to the door. Without looking back, she spoke loud enough for all of them to hear.

“I’m going on a walk.”

She didn’t wait for a response before slipping out.

The halls of Beacon were nearly deserted. Most students were either training in the gyms or tucked away in their dorms, finishing homework of their own. Ruby walked without purpose, headphones on, letting the music drown out her thoughts. She wasn’t heading anywhere in particular, just moving, just breathing, just delaying the inevitable moment when she would have to return and sleep in the same room as her team. She wasn’t ready for that.

Eventually, her wandering brought her to one of the common areas. She dropped onto a couch, pulled out her scroll, and absently scrolled through videos. After a while, even that lost its charm. She shut the device, closed her eyes, and let the music carry her.

When the footsteps halted before her, Ruby sensed the presence more than she heard it. She cracked one eye open and met a pair of calm, pink eyes. Ren.

Ruby had barely spoken to him before. He was Nora’s partner, quiet, reserved, a shadow to her storm. Given how close Team JNPR was to Team RWBY, his presence was… unwelcome. But he hadn’t done anything to her directly. With a small sigh, she tugged off her headphones.

“Ruby?” His tone was careful, almost uncertain.

“How can I help you?” she asked flatly.

Ren hesitated only a moment before speaking. “I’d like to apologize for Nora’s actions yesterday.”

Ruby blinked. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that hadn’t even been on the list. She sputtered, caught off guard, before muttering, “Thank you,” and looking away.

“I’m serious,” he continued, voice steady, sincere. “She was out of line. I might not know you well, Ruby, but no one deserves to be called a monster. I hope, in time, you can forgive her.” He extended his hand toward her, an unspoken offer of truce.

Ruby stared at it, and her anger bubbled again. Where had this sentiment been when the others had spoken ill of her? When her own team had called her names? But before her frustration could boil over, it ended. Maybe it wasn’t fair to lay the weight of everyone else’s words at his feet. Maybe, just maybe, he had spoken up and she’d been there to hear it.

“I won’t forgive Nora,” Ruby said finally, her voice low but firm. “But I won’t hold you responsible either. If she wants to apologize, she’ll have to do it herself.”

Ren slowly lowered his hand. “I understand,” he said, and though there was disappointment in his eyes, there was no judgment. Only acceptance. After a pause, he added, “My team holds a game night every week. If you’d like to come tomorrow, you’d be welcome.”

That's the second time he had caught Ruby completely off guard. Only days ago, she would have given anything for such an invitation. To laugh, to play games, to feel normal again. To be just a girl with friends. Some part of her longed desperately to accept.

But then she found herself reflecting on the events of the day with her team, and the moments she’d shared with Team JNPR earlier that week.

“I would like to…” she began, then faltered.

Ren’s expression softened, almost knowingly. “But?”

Ruby’s shoulders slumped. “Listen, Ren. You seem like a nice guy. But I don’t think I’d be welcome with your team right now.” Her voice was quiet, defeated. “Maybe another time. Maybe when things are… better.”

Ren nodded once, without pushing. “I understand. But if you ever want to talk, you can always find me.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Ruby sat there long after he was gone. No music, no distractions. Just silence, and the thoughts she couldn’t outrun.

A soft ping from her scroll broke through the stillness.

Neo: so how homework go?

Ruby exhaled through her nose, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. She typed quickly.

Ruby: It was alright. Had a confrontation with my team.

Neo: That sucks.

And just like that, the heaviness eased. The two of them slipped into an easy rhythm, texting back and forth about anything and everything, jokes, nonsense, little thoughts that didn’t matter. For once, Ruby didn’t feel judged. Didn’t feel like a monster. She just felt… heard.

And that was enough to carry her late into the night.

Yang staggered back, startled by Ruby’s sudden outburst. Now that Ruby was standing, the full effect hit her. The outfit was different, sharper, but still recognizably Ruby. The eyes, though, were not the eyes she had grown up with. Cold, flat grey stared back where once had been light.

 “They’re… grey,” Yang said, the surprise draining from her voice.

“They’ve always been a shade of grey, Yang.”

Yang’s frown deepened, confusion settling heavier than anger. “No… no, they were silver.” She had seen them her whole life. She knew.

Ruby’s glare cut sharper than a blade. “Don’t be childish. No, they weren’t.” She bent to pick up the chair she had knocked over. “They just lost their luster. Not that you’d know anyway.”

The words stung, sharp and dismissive, leaving Yang reeling. Her ears rang, the room’s argument fading into a blur. Ruby’s voice, Weiss’s, Blake’s, they all became muffled noise as her own thoughts drowned them out.

Her knees buckled, and she sat heavily on her bed, closing her eyes. Memories pressed in, memories she’d buried, but never forgotten.

Snow crunched under her boots. The air was biting cold. A red wagon squeaked along behind her, carrying a bundled-up Ruby, still fast asleep. Yang had been younger then, smaller, but so stubborn, determined to find her mother, not Summer, not the woman who had raised them both. She had dragged Ruby along, convinced she could find answers.

As Yang dragged the wagon, the steady crunch of snow beneath her boots was broken by a sound that hollowed her chest, the guttural growl of a Grimm.

Her head whipped around. It emerged from the treeline, massive and deliberate, red eyes glowing from behind an ashen bone mask. Easily twice her size. Yang froze, then instinctively stepped in front of the wagon. Her pulse hammered, but she forced herself to raise her arms, shielding Ruby’s sleeping form.

If she were a Huntress, this would be nothing, she told herself. But she wasn’t. Not yet. All she had was Dad’s old pistol and the hunting knife Qrow had left her.

She leveled the pistol with shaking hands and fired. The cracks of gunfire shattered the forest silence. Bullets sank into the Grimm’s black hide, and Yang let herself grin. I hit it, I hit it.

Then the beast’s eyes blinked back at her. Unblinking. Unstopped. Unharmed.

Her stomach plummeted.

The Grimm snarled, muscles coiling, and then it lunged.

Yang shrieked and dove forward, knife flashing. She hacked, stabbed, swung desperately. The blade scraped uselessly along its armored hide. With one contemptuous swipe of its claw, the Grimm knocked her flat. Her knife skittered into the snow. Pain thudded across her ribs and legs, she’d be black and blue by morning, if she even saw morning.

Her hands scrambled for the pistol. *Click* empty. She’d fired every shot.

Her vision blurred. Her heart thundered. She sprinted back toward the wagon, yanking Ruby up into her arms. Ruby stirred faintly against her shoulder but did not wake. Yang ran, snow dragging at her feet, lungs burning.

Behind her came the sound of plastic splintering, the wagon crushed underfoot.

Then the pain. A burning slash tore across her back, driving her to her knees. The world spun. She collapsed into the snow, still clutching Ruby to her chest.

The Grimm’s shadow loomed over them. It knew. It knew she couldn’t run, couldn’t fight. Its red eyes glowed brighter, savoring the moment.

Yang’s tears fell freely, blurring her sight. She curled around Ruby like a shield made of paper, thin, fragile, entirely inadequate. The cold reality pressed in: nothing she did could stop what was coming. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, every word heavy with failure. “I’m so useless…”

The Grimm roared, the ground trembling beneath its charge—

And then…silence.

Yang braced for teeth, for claws, for the end. Nothing came.

She forced her eyes open. Ruby was awake now.

Her silver eyes blazed, unnatural, unearthly, brighter than the moon itself. They burned with a light no child should carry, a light that wasn’t kind or warm but ancient. The air itself seemed to bend under their glow. Yang turned, expecting the Grimm’s claws, its mask, its hunger, only to find nothing. The monster was gone. Just empty tracks in the snow, as though it had never been.

Yang’s chest seized with terror. She turned back, but Ruby’s eyes had already closed again, the silver swallowed as if it had never been there. The little girl snuggled into her cloak, face soft, innocent, unaware.

Yang’s hands shook violently as she pulled out her scroll and called home.

Even now, the memory made Yang’s stomach twist. The shame of dragging Ruby into danger, yes, but deeper than that was the fear. Fear of those eyes. Fear of the power she had seen flare within them, a force that had erased a Grimm from existence as though it had never been. Fear of the silence afterward, when the forest itself had seemed wrong, emptied, unnatural.

She had been left with questions, too many, and no answers. Questions that had spilled into the biggest fight she’d ever had with her dad.

Yang blinked, and the memory slipped away. The dorm returned. Ruby sat quietly at her desk, head bowed over her homework, dull grey eyes scanning the page as if they had always been that way.

But Yang knew better.

She knew.

They weren’t grey. They had never been grey. They were silver, impossible, unnatural, terrifying silver.