RWBY: Moon Reflection

Crimson spent a week in isolation, meditating and reflecting in the quiet solitude of his small apartment. When his supplies began to dwindle, he ventured out into the city again. As he descended the creaking staircase, the two small girls he had encountered before were sitting in the same spot. This time, when they saw him, there was no fear in their eyes. Instead, they looked wary, with a faint glimmer of hope shining through their guarded expressions.

He met their gaze briefly but said nothing, walking past them without a word.

The market was bustling as usual, its narrow streets packed with vendors shouting their wares and customers bartering. Crimson spent more time here than during his last visit, picking up cooked meals, fresh fruits, vegetables, and meat. He moved methodically from one stall to the next, selecting what he needed without engaging in unnecessary conversation.

When he returned to his building, he found the two girls standing instead of sitting, as if waiting for him. Their thin frames and hollow eyes spoke volumes. Without hesitation, Crimson handed them a bag containing freshly cooked meals. It was enough to feed both of them for the day.

He paused for a moment before speaking. "If you're hungry, come to my place. Last door on the next floor." He didn't wait for a response and climbed the stairs, leaving the girls behind.

_______________________

The next day, as he sat cross-legged in his small apartment, lost in meditation, a knock at the door interrupted his silence. He rose and opened it to find the two girls staring up at him. They said nothing, their wide, silent eyes fixed on him.

Crimson looked at them for a moment before turning and walking back into the room, leaving the door open behind him. Without looking back, he said a single word: "Sit."

The girls entered cautiously and settled on the floor. Crimson prepared breakfast for them, working quickly and efficiently in the small kitchen. When the food was ready, he placed it in front of them. "Eat," he said simply.

The girls exchanged glances, then looked up at him as if wanting something else. He stood there, arms crossed, watching them. After a moment, he asked, "Need more for someone?"

The older girl nodded silently. Crimson turned back to the kitchen. "Eat," he said again, as he prepared more food.

The girls ate their share quietly, and when he handed them the extra food, they left. From that day forward, they began coming to his apartment for every meal. It became a routine—Crimson preparing food while they ate in silence. Sometimes, they would linger in the room, sitting quietly as he meditated in the corner. He didn't ask their names, nor did they speak. It was a fragile, wordless understanding.

_______________________

Two weeks passed in this manner until one morning, when Crimson opened the door expecting the girls, he found a woman standing there instead. Her pale complexion and hollow eyes mirrored her daughters'. Her shoulders were slumped, and she exuded a sense of deep despair.

"I am their mother," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "Can I come in?"

Crimson stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. She hesitated, then walked in and stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Crimson sat down on the floor and waited.

The woman's composure broke. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she begged him. "Please… take my daughters and leave the city with them. I'll do anything—anything you want." Her voice cracked as she reached for the hem of her tattered dress, pulling at it. "You can have me, or sell me, I don't care—just take them away."

Crimson's expression remained unreadable. "Put your clothes on," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Why not leave with them yourself?"

The woman clutched her dress and sobbed as she explained. "Leaving by aircraft is too expensive. Only the rich can afford it. And leaving on foot…" She shook her head. "It's too dangerous. Hiring a Huntsman here costs more than I will ever have."

Crimson frowned slightly. "Then why come here at all?"

She wiped her eyes and told him the story of her arrival. She and her husband had come to Kuchinashi as part of a merchant caravan. Her husband, a Huntsman, was tasked with protecting the caravan. They were supposed to stay for only a month, but her husband disappeared one day without a trace. When the caravan prepared to leave, she had to make a choice: wait for him or leave without him.

She stayed, but her husband never returned. Without him, life in the crime-ridden city became unbearable. Her savings dwindled, and desperation drove her to work as a prostitute. Then, three weeks ago, one of her clients followed her home and assaulted her in front of her daughters. When she tried to resist, he beat her so badly she couldn't leave her bed for weeks, leaving her daughters to starve. Worse, her daughters had not made a sound since that day.

The woman broke down completely, sobbing as she admitted her regret. "If I'd left with the caravan… if I'd been stronger…" she whispered. "I wouldn't have to beg you now."

Crimson's voice was quiet but firm. "A single moment of weakness can lead to a lifetime of regrets."

She nodded, her tears falling silently, and Crimson added, "But if today is the worst day ever—tomorrow has to be better."

The woman looked at him, her despair flickering briefly into hope. He stood abruptly. "Go back to your daughters. Come to me tomorrow morning with them."

Before she left, he handed her the food he had prepared for the girls. She took it gratefully, bowing and thanking him repeatedly as she left.

_______________________

That evening, Crimson made his way to The Skillful tavern. Opal raised an eyebrow as he approached, clearly surprised. "Thought you'd left the city," she said, smirking.

Crimson ignored her remark. "The Hana Guild. Where are they?"

Opal's smirk faded. "That's not a name you throw around lightly," she said cautiously. "Information has a price."

Crimson tossed a pouch of lien onto the counter without hesitation. Opal weighed it briefly before nodding. She scribbled down an address and slid it toward him. "Three warehouses, all in the Lower Valley. Their mansion is in the Upper Cliffs."

Crimson pocketed the note and left without another word.

That night, Kuchinashi burned. The warehouses, once fortresses of the criminal underworld, were reduced to smoldering ruins, their contents lost to the flames. The Hana Guild's mansion, a symbol of opulence and fear, stood as a charred husk by morning. The city's underworld was shaken to its core, its heart pierced by an unseen hand.

Before the Hana Guild's mansion was consumed by fire, Crimson stood before its leader, a man known as Shingen Hana. The guild master, once proud and untouchable, now knelt trembling, his defiance eroded by the carnage Crimson had wrought. "What do you want?!" Shingen demanded, his voice cracking as fear overtook him.

"Everything," Crimson replied coldly, tossing his scroll at Shingen. "Transfer all your accounts. Now."

Shingen hesitated for a brief moment, his pride struggling against the inevitability of his situation. A sharp glint of Crimson's blade near his throat decided for him. With shaking hands, he entered the account codes and authorized the transfer. The scroll pinged as the transaction completed, and Crimson glanced at the screen to confirm the money had moved.

"You've taken everything I have," Shingen muttered, his voice hollow. "Why?"

Crimson's crimson eyes bore into him as he answered. "I don't know why I am doing this."

With one swift motion, it was over. The blade cut clean, and Shingen collapsed, lifeless, onto the floor. Crimson spared the mansion no further thought as he set it alight, watching the flames rise into the night sky.

By dawn, rumors spread like wildfire, whispering of an unstoppable force that had obliterated the Hana Guild and reduced its empire to ash. No one knew who was responsible, but the sheer speed, brutality, and precision left everyone terrified. The name of the Hana Guild, once a byword for power in Kuchinashi, was now synonymous with ruin. Crimson vanished into the shadows as quickly as he had arrived, leaving behind only fear and smoldering wreckage.

Opal, hearing the news the next day, had her suspicions. "That kid…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. But she kept her thoughts to herself. No one would believe her, anyway.

_______________________

The following morning, Crimson opened his door to find the woman and her daughters waiting. Without a word, he led them to the aircraft platform. Once there, he hired a small transport for them, handing the woman a scroll before she boarded.

"There's enough in there to raise them until they're old enough," he said.

The woman's eyes widened in shock, tears streaming down her face. "I… I don't know how to thank you."

"The sooner you leave, the better," Crimson said, turning to leave.

"Wait," she called after him. "What's your name?"

Crimson paused but didn't look back. He walked away in silence, disappearing into the crowd.

He didn't want to remember them. And he didn't want them to remember him.