RWBY: Moon Reflection

Before the group set out, Ozpin took control of Oscar's body, his voice calm but firm as he addressed them. "Before you go, there's something you need to understand about Crimson," he began, his gaze sweeping across the group. "When people are in a state of deep vulnerability or depression, they often reject those who claim to understand them. They don't want sympathy—they want solace, support, and quiet reassurance. Be mindful of what you say. Offer comfort, not judgment. Sometimes, just being there is enough."

The group nodded solemnly, taking his words to heart. With that, they split into pairs to cover as much ground in Mistral as possible.

Ruby and Weiss ventured into the lower districts, where the streets were a chaotic tangle of narrow alleys and dimly lit corners. Ren and Nora scoured the bustling marketplaces, while Blake and Sun searched near the upper district. Pyrrha decided to search on her own near the city gates to see if he left. They all carried a photograph of Crimson, asking everyone they encountered if they had seen him.

But hours passed, and no one had.

Ruby and Weiss eventually stumbled upon a destroyed bar, the wreckage telling a silent, violent story. Broken glass crunched underfoot as they entered, the air thick with stale alcohol and faint traces of blood. The sign above the door hung askew, its name long obscured by soot and time. Inside, the dim light cast jagged shadows, and behind the counter stood a wiry man with a face carved by years of hardship.

Ruby approached, holding up a photo of Crimson. "Have you seen him?" she asked, her voice steady despite the foreboding atmosphere.

The bartender's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah," he said, his voice low and heavy. "I've seen him."

Weiss leaned in, her tone sharper. "What happened here?"

The man set the glass he'd been cleaning onto the counter with a shaky hand. "He came in last night. Quiet. Sat at the bar like he'd been here a hundred times before. Ordered a drink. I asked for his ID... he didn't say a word. Just looked at me." His voice wavered. "That look… it wasn't anger. It wasn't even annoyance. It was emptiness, like he was staring through me, like I didn't exist."

Ruby frowned, but the man continued before she could speak.

"This place," he said, gesturing at the destruction around them, "is Spider territory. It belongs to Little Miss Malachite. Her gang runs it, and they don't take kindly to strangers. A few of them were here, drunk, laughing it up. They noticed him. Started jeering, taunting him. Calling him a lost pup and asking who let him off his leash. He didn't react. Just sat there, staring at his drink like he was somewhere else."

The bartender's hands trembled as he reached for a cigarette, lighting it with a flicker of unsteady flame. "But then one of them… one of them got bold. Pulled a knife and waved it in his face. He was trying to get a rise out of him, you know? Trying to show off for the others. That's when he finally looked up."

The man's voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes haunted. "I have seen fear before. Seen men scared for their lives. But this… this was different. When he looked at them, it was like he wanted them to hurt him. Like he wanted a reason to do what he was about to do. His eyes weren't just empty—they were pleading, like he was begging for someone to make a move."

Ruby's breath caught, but the bartender pressed on. "The guy with the knife didn't stand a chance. He didn't even see it coming. One second he was grinning, the next he was on the ground, choking on his own blood. The boy didn't hesitate, didn't even flinch. He moved like a ghost, silent and brutal. By the time anyone realized what was happening, it was already over."

The bartender gestured at the ruined bar, his voice cracking. "He didn't kill them, but he made sure they'd never forget him. Broke their boss's jaw, shattered bones, left them crawling. And when it was done, he just… walked out. Didn't look back. Didn't say a word."

Weiss's expression hardened, but Ruby's eyes filled with something closer to sorrow.

The bartender looked at them, his cigarette burning low. "You want to know what happened here? That's what happened. A boy who looked like he'd given up on everything walked in, and now… now they are the ones praying he never comes back."

Ruby and Weiss exchanged a heavy glance before thanking the bartender and leaving the bar.

Outside, the cool night air did little to ease their unease. Weiss broke the silence. "At least we know he's not killing everyone that cross him"

Ruby nodded weakly, her expression troubled. "I guess... but I don't know if that makes this better or worse."

They stood in silence for a moment, the echoes of the bartender's story lingering in their minds. Ruby clenched her fists, determination hardening her features. "We have to find him"

Weiss placed a hand on her shoulder. "We will."

_____________________________

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the world in the cool hues of early night. Pyrrha, after hours of searching, reached the last city gate on the outskirts of Mistral. She approached the guard stationed there, her breath slightly labored from the exertion.

"Excuse me," she said, showing Crimson's photograph. "Have you seen this person?"

The guard studied the image for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, he passed through about an hour ago. Didn't say much—just walked out and headed toward the mountain peak over there." He pointed to a jagged silhouette rising against the star-studded sky.

Pyrrha's heart quickened. "Thank you."

Without wasting another moment, she sent a quick message to the others:

'Crimson left Mistral. I'm heading after him. I'll try to bring him back.'

Pocketing her scroll, Pyrrha broke into a sprint, the cool night air rushing past her as she dashed toward the mountain. The terrain grew steeper and rockier as she climbed, the faint light of the moon guiding her path.

After some time, she spotted him. Crimson was perched atop a large rock, his back to her, gazing silently at the moon. His posture was still, almost statuesque, and the pale light cast an ethereal glow over him.

Pyrrha slowed her pace, approaching cautiously. "Crimson," she called softly.

He didn't move, his gaze fixed on the distant broken lunar sphere. "We have been searching for you," she said, her voice low and calm.

"We were all worried," Pyrrha continued, stopping a few paces behind him.

"You shouldn't be," Crimson said. "You know better"

Pyrrha sighed, stepping closer and climbing onto the same rock. She sat beside him, her posture relaxed but her eyes watchful. He didn't acknowledge her presence, his focus elsewhere.

After a moment of silence, Pyrrha began speaking softly. "The more I have come to understand you, the more I've found myself admiring you. Your strength, your determination... your nature."

Crimson finally turned his head slightly, his eyes distant. "Admiration is the furthest thing from understanding," he said.

Pyrrha smiled faintly, nodding. "You are right. I thought I understood you once, but as time has passed, I have realized how different you are from the rest of us." She hesitated before continuing. "Your semblance... it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It's... terrifying, I felt fear in its presence."

Crimson remained silent, his gaze drifting back to the moon.

"But," Pyrrha went on, "once everything was over, I realized something. You are a greater person than I ever thought. Your actions, your choices—they have always been selfless, even when they seemed ruthless. And that's what makes you remarkable."

Crimson's expression didn't change, he didn't acknowledge her words.

"I still remember our conversation during the Vytal Festival," Pyrrha said, her tone growing wistful. "About how our goals can change and how that's okay. You told me not to worry about that—just to keep moving forward." She glanced at him, her eyes gentle. "You can find a new purpose, Crimson. A new goal to work toward."

Crimson let out a faint sigh. "I also told you that the journey matters more than the destination. The choices you make along the way define you."

Pyrrha nodded. "And look at the choices you've made. During the attack on Beacon, when so many faltered, you stood firm. You avenged your sister. You saved me. You fought a dragon Grimm alone. Those choices—those actions—they're what truly matter. And they have shown all of us who you really are."

Crimson's expression remained unreadable. He stared forward, as if lost in his thoughts, before speaking again.

"When Cinder's broadcast started, I realized things were going to go wrong," he said, his voice low and filled with quiet bitterness. "The first thing I felt was anger—anger because I knew the life I'd worked for would be ruined that night."

Pyrrha stayed silent, letting him speak, knowing that whatever he had to say was important for him.

"I asked Ruby to go with the other students to Beacon, to find Yang, while I went down to the city to hunt Cinder," Crimson continued, his voice growing heavier with each word. "In that moment, I chose to act on my anger, instead of prioritizing to escort Ruby and find Yang. I considered Beacon safe enough that they didn't need my protection. I wanted to destroy the people causing the trouble. And that… that resulted in Yang's injury."

Pyrrha shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know what was going to happen."

Crimson stayed silent for a moment before speaking again. "When I made it to Beacon and saw Yang injured, I became furious. To this day, I'm not sure if I was angry because of her state or because I felt my pride had been hurt. I acted on that anger. I killed the White Fang in Beacon. And when I went after Cinder, my only thoughts were about killing her. I didn't care about anyone else. I didn't consider your well being at all. When the dragon appeared before me, I was angry that I couldn't make Cinder suffer more, so I lashed at it. I didn't fight to protect—I was just lashing out at whatever came my way."

Crimson paused, looking at her, his eyes searching. "Do you think my choices are admirable?"

Pyrrha went silent, unsure how to respond. The question lingered in the air between them, heavy and unresolved. Crimson, sensing her hesitation, continued.

"I hated how I looked when I was… when I was a demon," he said, his voice low, almost regretful. "I despised it more than anything. I was willing to die before anyone saw it. During the fight, I acted with the intention of keeping them busy, of killing as many as possible. I thought, as long as Sun and Blake freed you all, the pressure on me would be reduced, and I could kill them off easily. I never once considered transforming, even though it was the best option to keep my sisters and everyone else safe. But when I saw that twisted illusion, my hatred overwhelmed whatever disgust or shame I had. I chose to transform out of the worst emotion."

Pyrrha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Crimson continued, his tone bitter, almost pained.

"So I have been wondering— I will never be anything but a monster driven by self-hatred." he murmured. 

He paused again, staring at the moon. The silence stretched between them.

"I wanted to live the remainder of my life to the best of my ability. So when my time comes no one will tell the story of a monster but a human" Crimson said quietly, he paused a little before continuing "There really is no fathoming the depths of my hatred for this world. Why was someone like me born? Ruby and Yang didn't deserve to have a demon for a family."

Sighing deeply, Crimson stood, his back to Pyrrha as he spoke. "I want to spend my time alone. Tell them to go on with their lives."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night. Pyrrha sat motionless on the rock, staring at his retreating form, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. The cold wind whispered through the trees, and the moon continued its slow, silent journey across the sky.