RWBY: Moon Reflection

Another week had come and gone, and life on Patch Island had settled into a semblance of routine amidst the chaos of the world. Ruby was often away in Vale, aiding Ren and Nora under Qrow's leadership. The trio had taken to patrolling the city, assisting wherever they could in the ongoing battle against the Grimm and helping restore order to the beleaguered populace.

Crimson, meanwhile, had focused on his duties at home. His recovery was evident; the bandages that had once covered most of his body were now limited to his left arm, and even that didn't hinder him in his daily tasks. He spent much of his time caring for Yang, who was still struggling with basic day-to-day tasks due to her injury. Despite her initial resistance, Pyrrha had become a frequent visitor. She and Yang bonded over their shared experiences with injuries, bringing comfort to Yang, who found herself opening up in ways she hadn't before.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the sky, the group gathered in the Xiao Long-Rose backyard. Nora, her usual energy bubbling over, suggested a sparring match with Ruby.

"I could use the practice," Ruby said, stretching her arms. "I haven't had a proper spar in a while."

Crimson, leaning casually against the porch railing, raised an eyebrow. "How about I take all three of you on instead? It should be more beneficial to all of you."

The suggestion drew immediate objections.

"You're still recovering!" Pyrrha exclaimed. "The doctors said you need at least two more months to fully heal."

"Yeah," Nora chimed in. "We don't want to be responsible for you reopening an injury or something."

Crimson waved off their concerns. "I'm almost fully recovered. Another week or two, and my arm will be good as new. Besides, this is just sparring, not a real fight."

Qrow, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "Fine. But if any of us notice something off with you, we're calling it immediately. Got it?"

"Got it," Crimson replied with a small smile.

As they prepared for the match, Crimson brought out a large mace from the storage shed.

Nora blinked in surprise. "Wait… is that Cardin's mace? How do you have that?"

"I took it from him during Vale's invasion," Crimson explained nonchalantly. "Haven't seen the guy since, so I figured I'd hold onto it."

The sparring began, and it quickly became apparent that Crimson's recovery was not just superficial. He moved with power and speed, easily outmaneuvering his three opponents. Despite their best efforts, Nora, Ruby, and Ren found themselves overwhelmed. Throughout the match, Crimson provided pointers—correcting Ruby's stance, advising Ren on his timing, and helping Nora refine her follow-through.

When the spar finally ended, the three were sprawled on the ground, panting heavily. Crimson, by contrast, seemed hardly winded.

Qrow crossed his arms, a hint of admiration in his tone. "You've bounced back fast. Almost too fast."

Nora sat up, wiping sweat from her brow. "Is this because of that Moon Breathing technique you use?"

Crimson nodded. "It speeds up recovery. It's one of the benefits."

This revelation left the group stunned. The technique seemed almost too good to be real. Pyrrha, curiosity and determination lighting up her face, stepped forward.

"Crimson," she said, "could you teach me?"

Crimson's expression hardened, and he shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" Pyrrha pressed.

"It's too dangerous and deadly," he replied. "Velvet is proof of that."

Ren interjected, his voice somber. "Pyrrha, you didn't see what it did to Velvet. She was in agony—on the verge of death—just from copying him once. It's not something to take lightly."

Crimson's gaze drifted as his thoughts turned inward. [The mark…] he thought. [That's another reason. It shortens the user's lifespan, and I was lucky it manifested as part of my semblance in this life. But even I'm not sure if I'll live to an old age. Aura and semblance, combined with the advancements in technology, make the breathing technique not worth the risk. What's the point of mastering something that could kill you young?]

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Everyone went back inside the house. The group sat around the living room, their conversation weaving between topics of recovery, sparring, and Crimson's unique abilities. The lively discussion was interrupted by the sudden sound of the doorbell. Taiyang rose from his chair with a puzzled expression, excusing himself to answer the door.

A moment later, his voice called out in surprise, "General Ironwood?"

The group turned to see Tai stepping aside to let General James Ironwood and Specialist Winter Schnee into the house. The imposing presence of the Atlas General and his second-in-command immediately shifted the atmosphere in the room.

"Good evening," Ironwood greeted, his tone formal but warm. He nodded at everyone before taking a seat near the table. Winter followed suit, her posture rigid and professional as always.

Qrow, leaning back in his chair with his flask in hand, raised an eyebrow. "What brings you here, Jimmy? Atlas running short on paperwork?"

Ironwood allowed himself a small smile at Qrow's familiar jab. "Not quite, Qrow. I'm here to check on Crimson and the rest of you. After everything you've done, it's the least I can do."

He glanced around the room, his gaze briefly resting on Crimson, who sat silently, looking back at him.

"I wanted to personally thank you all," Ironwood continued, "but especially Crimson. Your actions during that night were instrumental. Without you, things could have gone much worse. You took down the perpetrator, slew the dragon Grimm, and even risked your life to save us from being overrun. We owe you a great debt—I owe you a great debt."

The general's words carried weight, and the group exchanged glances. They had heard praise for Crimson before, but coming from Ironwood himself, it felt different.

Ironwood then shifted his focus entirely to Crimson. "If there's anything you need—anything at all—please tell me. As both a headmaster and the General of Atlas, I'll do everything in my power to make it happen."

The room fell silent at the unexpected offer. Even Qrow seemed taken aback. While Ironwood was known for his sense of duty, such a direct and personal gesture was rare.

Crimson, however, didn't hesitate. His calm voice broke the silence. "I want the best prosthetics Atlas has to offer… for Yang."

Yang's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with emotion. "Crimson, no! I—"

But before she could finish, Ironwood raised a hand to stop her. "I was planning to provide Yang with Atlas's top-tier prosthetics regardless of Crimson's request. In fact, they're already being designed as we speak."

The room was stunned. Yang, struggling to find her voice, looked down at her hands. The generosity was overwhelming, and the thoughtfulness behind it left everyone moved.

Crimson offered Ironwood a small smile and nodded. "Thank you."

Ironwood frowned slightly, his tone softening. "Is there really nothing you need, Crimson? I mean it—anything within my power."

Crimson shook his head. "I'm fine, General. Thank you for your generosity."

Ironwood exhaled and gave a slight nod. "Very well. I'll consider it a favor you can call upon whenever you need."

The conversation shifted to other topics, the tension easing. The group discussed recent developments in Vale, the rebuilding efforts, and the continued support from Atlas.

Ruby, with her characteristic curiosity, tilted her head. "By the way… have you found Cinder's body yet?"

The question caused an abrupt shift in the room. Crimson's head turned toward Ruby, his eyes curious. He hadn't heard about this before.

Winter, always poised, answered matter-of-factly. "No, we haven't. Either someone took her body… or she wasn't as dead as she appeared." Her icy blue gaze flicked toward Crimson, her tone pointed.

Crimson leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Emerald and Mercury weren't anywhere to be seen during or after the battle. They could have taken her body. Carrying her would have certainly been quite easy."

Winter's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Crimson's voice was cold and detached, his words sending a shiver through everyone in the room. "Have you heard of death by a thousand cuts? Cinder experienced something similar."

The atmosphere grew heavy. The mental image Crimson's words painted was enough to make even seasoned Huntsmen and Huntresses uncomfortable. For all of them, this was the first time hearing the full extent of what Crimson had done atop the tower.

Winter, usually composed, couldn't suppress a slight shudder. Qrow let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

"Well," Qrow muttered, taking a swig from his flask, "remind me not to get on your bad side."

The others exchanged uneasy looks, the weight of his words settling over them. Despite the gratitude and admiration they felt for Crimson, it was moments like this that reminded them just how far removed he was from the norm.