RWBY: Moon Reflection

That night, Crimson sat alone, the quiet night providing a stark contrast to the storm in his mind. General Ironwood's offer weighed heavily on him, a proposition that carried a purpose and weight. The faint glow of the moonlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room. His gaze drifted to his hands, he flexed his fingers, as if trying to grasp something intangible—something that had long slipped through his grasp.

His thoughts returned to the night of the invasion, he remembered the chaos, the screaming, and the fury. Most vividly, he recalled Yang's state that night: battered, bloodied, and barely able to stand. Her eyes had burned with a mixture of pain and fear, a sight that ignited a fury within him unlike anything he had ever known in this life. That fury had driven him forward, his vision narrowing to a singular goal—eradicate the White Fang members and whoever is responsible. He had unleashed a slaughter that night, his every movement fueled by an anger so deep it bordered on primal. Yet, as he sat there now, he realized he had never fully understood the source of his rage. Was it the sight of his sister's suffering? The fact he wasn't there when needed the most? Or was it something else, something buried so deep he feared unearthing it again? He stopped the train of thought abruptly, unwilling to confront the answer.

His mind shifted to a different memory, one that carried its own weight of sorrow. He thought of art school, the place he had once called his sanctuary and future. The image of the school's ruins flashed before his eyes, the building's grandeur reduced to rubble and ash. He saw the faces of his classmates, the people who had shared his passion, now lost forever. And then there was his biwa, lying broken on the ground. The instrument, a symbol of his years of dedication and effort, had been shattered—much like his new peaceful life. The memory of its splintered wood and snapped strings struck him with a cruel irony. He had poured his soul into his craft to replace the violence he embodied once, only for it to be destroyed in an instant. The biwa, once a proof of change, now seemed to mirror his own fractured existence.

Ironwood's words echoed in his mind. The general had spoken of others like Cinder, individuals driven by malice and a desire for destruction. The fact that they had been wary of such threats in advance suggested that this wasn't an isolated incident. Crimson's stomach churned at the thought. If this was not the last time such a catastrophe would unfold, what role would he play in the battles to come? Could he afford to turn away, knowing that inaction might cost whatever life he builds?

His thoughts turned to his brother, Yoriichi. The memories were distant yet vivid, like a dream that lingered upon waking. Yoriichi had lost everything—his wife, his unborn child, the future he had dreamed of. Forced to walk a path he never wanted, his life had been a series of sacrifices and sorrow. Crimson had once envied his brother, blinded by the shadow of his own inadequacies. But now, he understood. The irony was not lost on him; he, too, is being forced into a path he hadn't chosen, a path he wanted to run away from. He felt regret for the envy he once felt and the more he thinks the heavier it becomes. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with resignation.

________________________________

Another month had passed, and the city of Vale began to heal. The scars of the invasion still lingered, but the air of despair that had once hung over the streets was slowly lifting. Grimm attacks grew less frequent, their feral presence dwindling as people's spirits returned. With the city rebuilding and the academy recovering, life was beginning to edge back toward normalcy. Pyrrha, too, had made a full recovery, her resilience a testament to her strength and determination.

With the calm settling over Vale, Qrow decided it was time to act. The pieces of Cinder's scheme still didn't fit together, and he couldn't ignore the possibility that she had allies lying in wait. His investigations pointed him toward Mistral, where whispers of unusual activity had been heard. Without fanfare, he packed his things and slipped away, leaving behind only a vague explanation to the few who noticed his departure.

It wasn't long before Ruby, Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha discovered where he'd gone and why. Determined not to sit idly by while Qrow investigated alone, they decided to follow him. Under Ruby's leadership, the group planned their journey carefully, their resolve solidifying with each passing day. The mission wasn't just about following Qrow—it was about proving they could handle the responsibility of protecting others and uncovering the truth.

Taiyang was the one who discovered their plan, thanks to a letter Ruby had left behind. It was short but heartfelt, explaining her reasons and promising to return safely. When Tai confronted Crimson with the news, he wasn't surprised. While he understood Tai's concerns, Crimson didn't object. With Pyrrha among them, he was confident they could handle themselves. They were bound to catch up with Qrow, and once they did, they'd be under his watchful eye.

That same day, General Ironwood arrived at the Xiao Long household once more, his presence as commanding as ever. This time, he brought with him a package—Yang's new prosthetics. The state-of-the-art hand was a blend of technology and engineering, designed to restore not just functionality but also the strength and dexterity Yang had once had in her hand. While Tai and Yang began testing the prosthetic's capabilities, Ironwood pulled Crimson aside for a private conversation. The two walked out into the open air, the quiet hum of the island providing a backdrop to their exchange.

"Things are looking better here," Ironwood began, his tone lighter than usual. "Vale is stabilizing, and it's time for me to return to Atlas. But before I go, I wanted to hear your answer."

Crimson walked in silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I accept your offer," he said at last, his voice calm but resolute. "But I have a job I need to finish first before I come to Atlas."

Ironwood raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident. "What kind of job? If there's anything I can do to help—"

Crimson shook his head. "It's personal. Once I'm sure Yang is okay, I'm going after the White Fang. And I'll ensure their last breath is one of despair, not defiance. Atlas mustn't be involved. It would be a problem if your kingdom was associated with the kind of destruction I plan to bring."

Ironwood considered Crimson's words carefully. While the general didn't openly condone such actions, he couldn't deny that the White Fang's threat was far from over. Vale itself was proof of the devastation they could cause, and the possibility of their resurgence wasn't something he could ignore.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I can't say I approve of what you said, but I also can't deny that the White Fang is too dangerous. If you're going to deal with them... then so be it. Good riddance."

Though Ironwood didn't voice it, he wasn't particularly concerned about Crimson's safety. In the general's mind, Crimson was no ordinary combatant—he was a force, one that rivaled the Maidens in power, perhaps even surpassing them. Knowing that someone like Crimson was willing to hunt the White Fang brought him a sense of reassurance, even if it came with moral ambiguity.

As they walked back to the house, Ironwood spoke once more, his tone neutral yet firm. "When you have finished what you need to do, come to Atlas. We'll make the necessary arrangements. Until then, take care of your family—and yourself."

Crimson nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I will."

After finishing his business with Crimson, Ironwood left Vale immediately.

_______________________________

That night, the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of settling wood and the distant hum of the wind outside. The faint glow of the kitchen light cast long shadows across the walls, its warmth doing little to stave off the chill of the late hour. Taiyang Xiao Long sat at the kitchen table, cradling a steaming mug of tea in his hands.

Footsteps approached, soft at first, but unmistakable in their purpose. Tai looked up, his brow furrowing slightly as Crimson stepped into the light, his face set in a serious expression.

"Dad," Crimson said, his voice low but firm. "Got a minute?"

"It's late," Tai replied, setting his mug down. "Something wrong?"

"Not wrong," Crimson said, leaning a hand on the back of a chair. "Just… something that needs talking about. It's about Yang."

Tai's frown deepened. "Yang? What about her?"

"Her mom," Crimson said bluntly. "Raven. I think it's time you gave her some answers."

The room seemed to grow colder. Tai leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as his jaw tightened.

"Raven isn't an easy topic," he said, his voice heavy.

"I know," Crimson admitted. "But look at Yang. She's been through hell, Tai. Losing her fingers, fighting Adam… she's strong, no doubt about it. But something's still holding her back. That void Raven left—it's eating at her."

Tai sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. "I've spent years trying to protect her from Raven's choices. From the pain she'd bring. I didn't want her to carry that weight."

"She's not a kid anymore," Crimson said, his tone unwavering. "You can't protect her forever. She needs clarity. Even if it hurts. She deserves the truth about Raven."

Tai didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the table, his fingers drumming against his forearm. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost resigned.

"And what if the truth breaks her?" he asked. "What if she confronts Raven and doesn't get the answers she's looking for? What then?"

Crimson straightened, his gaze piercing. "Or maybe it's exactly what she needs to move forward. Look, dad, you raised her to be strong, to stand on her own. Trust her now. Let her make the decision for herself. Encouraging her independence doesn't mean pushing her away—it shows you believe in her."

Tai's shoulders slumped, the weight of Crimson's words sinking in. "Raven's not like us," he said softly. "She's dangerous. Self-serving. Seeing her for what she truly is… that could shatter the image Yang's been holding onto."

"Better she knows now than be blindsided later," Crimson said, his voice steady. "If Raven's anything like you say, then Yang deserves to face her with her eyes wide open. She's already faced monsters, dad—literal and figurative. She can handle this."

Tai closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a long, measured breath. When he opened them again, they were filled with a mixture of reluctance and resolve.

"You really think this will help her?" he asked.

"I do," Crimson said with conviction. "It'll hurt, no doubt, but sometimes the only way forward is through the pain. And if nothing else, it'll strengthen her resolve. Yang's not the type to back down once she knows what she's up against."

Tai stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll tell her tomorrow." He paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "But you'd better be right about this, Crimson."

Crimson allowed a small smirk. "I usually am."

Tai let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just hope she's ready for what she finds."

"She will be," Crimson said, stepping toward the doorway. "Yang's tougher than you give her credit for. And she's got you and me to back her up if she needs it."

Tai chuckled faintly, a flicker of warmth breaking through the tension. As Crimson disappeared into the shadows of the hall, Tai sat back in his chair, staring at the now-cold tea in front of him.