Pyrrha's footsteps were heavy as she made her way back to the house, the night air cool against her skin, but it did little to ease the weight on her heart. Every step seed to carry the burden of the conversation she'd just had with Crimson, each word echoing in her mind. The silence of the mountain felt louder now, the quiet a stark contrast to the turmoil she felt inside.
As she entered the house, her friends were gathered around the table, faces lit by the soft glow of a lantern. They turned to her as she stepped inside, concern imdiately evident in their eyes.
"Pyrrha!" Ruby exclaid, standing up quickly. "Did you find him?"
Pyrrha paused at the door, her gaze lowering to the floor. She swallowed hard before speaking, her voice a quiet whisper. "He left."
Yang's eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing her features. "What do you an, he left? You didn't—why did you let him go?"
Pyrrha took a deep breath, her gaze flickering toward Ruby, who stood silently beside her sister. She could see the confusion and worry in their eyes, but there was no anger—only the desperate hope that Crimson could be brought back. The weight of their expectations hung in the air, but Pyrrha knew she had no simple answers.
"He thinks he's a demon," she said, her voice faltering. "Unworthy of a family. He told that he acts out of hatred, not love. His anger consus him. He doesn't believe he's worthy of you."
The room fell into stunned silence. Ruby's eyes widened, and Yang's expression softened, her usual fiery resolve replaced by sothing darker, more sorrowful. It was clear they had no idea how deep Crimson's struggles ran.
"But why?" Ruby asked, her voice breaking through the silence. "Why does he think that? We... we are his family, we care about him."
Pyrrha shook her head slowly. "It's not that simple. Crimson carries so much guilt—he's convinced that everything he's done, all the choices he's made, have been driven by hate. He doesn't believe he's capable of love, and that you don't deserve to have a demon for a family"
Yang clenched her fists, frustration etched across her face. "But he's wrong! We've all seen what he's done. He's always been there for us. He's… he's not a demon."
Pyrrha's eyes hardened slightly, her own feelings raw as she spoke. "That's what he believes. He told he's been wondering if he will ever be anything but a monster driven by self-hatred."
The words hung in the air, heavier than any of them could have expected. Ruby looked down at the ground, clearly processing the enormity of what Pyrrha had shared. Yang looked just as stunned, her usual sharp wit gone, replaced with the quiet silence trying to comprehend the emotional devastation her brother was enduring.
Ozpin, who had been silently observing the conversation from the corner, finally spoke up, his voice calm yet laced with concern. "Crimson's state is worse than I had anticipated. He's begun to deny his own emotions, distancing himself from any form of attachnt. His guilt has clouded his perception to the point where he doubts every action he's taken. He believes that he's only driven by hatred, not by love, and it's consuming him."
Ruby's gaze lifted, eting Ozpin's eyes, her face filled with desperate determination. "Is there anything we can do? How do we help him?"
The room fell silent once more as Ozpin, despite his usual wisdom, seed lost for words. He looked between the group, the weight of the situation clear in his eyes.
"I... I don't know," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Crimson's mind is trapped in a spiral of self-doubt and guilt, and right now, even I am unsure of the best way to help him."
The words stung more than any of them could have expected. Ruby's expression faltered, her shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation set in. Yang's gaze hardened, but there was no outlet for her usual resolve, no way to fight this battle with the sa straightforward approach she was used to.
Pyrrha stepped forward, her heart heavy, but she knew the truth of the matter. "We need to give him ti."
Ruby, with determination returning to her voice, looked up at Pyrrha. "Then we will wait. And when he's ready, we will be here for him."
Pyrrha nodded, a faint, sad smile forming on her lips. "Yes, we will."
________________________
Crimson walked through the forest with unwavering resolve, his steps steady but heavy. The sun rose and set as he continued, his mind clouded with thoughts too dense to lift. The battle with the Grimm along his path was a fleeting mont—their snarls and claws posed no challenge. Each creature fell with a single strike of his blade, leaving no room for interruption in his solitary march. By evening, he arrived at a serene pond, its surface reflecting the fiery hues of the setting sun. Exhausted but restless, he sat beneath a tree, his back resting against its rough bark, his gaze fixed ahead as if lost in a trance.
Anyone who might have seen him there would assu he was ditating, perhaps even at peace. But within him, a storm raged. Crimson's mind churned over the choices that had brought him to this point, the lives he had lived, and the question that gnawed at his soul: why had he been reborn? His regrets ran deep, and his purpose felt more elusive than ever. For six days, he sat unmoving, lost in this internal battle. Neither hunger nor thirst touched him; his body ached, but he did not heed it. The world around him faded as his thoughts consud him entirely.
On the seventh day, his stillness was broken by distant screams. They echoed faintly through the trees, urgent and desperate, but he remained unmoved, his trance unbroken. Then, a single word rang out: "Brother!" The cry shattered the walls of his mind, dragging him back to reality. The voice was sharp, innocent, and filled with fear—a voice that pierced deeper than any blade.
Crimson's eyes sharpened. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword as he leaped to his feet and dashed toward the sound. Breaking through the trees, he found two rabbit Faunus boys huddled together as a Grimm ursa lood over them. The beast moved slowly, savoring their terror. Crimson surged forward, his blade flashing in the waning light. In a single, fluid motion, he beheaded the Grimm, its body crumpling to the ground before vanishing into the ether.
The boys stared at him, their fear gradually giving way to awe. Crimson's eyes softened as he looked at them; they couldn't have been older than Yoriichi had been when he left their ho.
"What are you doing out here alone?" he asked, his voice steady but firm.
The boys hesitated, then one spoke up, "We ca to get firewood. Our father's busy with Mama. She's about to have a baby."
Crimson nodded. Without a word, he walked to a nearby dry tree and sliced it into neat pieces with the swings of his sword. The boys watched, amazed, as he worked. Then he turned to them and extended a hand.
"Give the rope," he said.
One of the boys fumbled to hand him a coiled rope. Crimson tied the firewood into a bundle and hefted it onto his shoulder. "Lead to your ho," he instructed.
The boys exchanged glances before nodding and guiding him through the forest. Before long, they arrived at a small, humble house nestled against the mountains. A nearby settlent was visible in the distance. As they approached, the boys' father ran out, his face a mixture of anger and fear.
"Rowan! Kerwyn!" he shouted. "Why did you leave without telling ?"
The boys shrank under his scolding but quickly explained, "We wanted to help! You couldn't leave Mama alone."
The father's stern expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Don't do it again," he said firmly, then turned to Crimson. "Thank you for bringing them back safely."
Crimson nodded slightly and set down the firewood. From inside the house, the screams of a woman in labor pierced the air. The father turned and rushed inside, the boys following close behind. Crimson stood outside, hesitating. He turned to leave but stopped, glancing back at the house.
Monts later, he stepped inside and called out to the father. "Is there a doctor in the settlent?"
The man's face darkened. "There is, but he won't help us. We are Faunus," he said bitterly.
Crimson's expression remained stoic. He turned and left without another word. He went to the settlent, reaching it in minutes, he sought out the doctor and found him quickly. "There's a delivery," Crimson said curtly. "You need to co."
The doctor hesitated, then began gathering his supplies. "Where?" he asked.
Crimson didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed the man's bag with one hand and hoisted the doctor onto his shoulder with the other, ignoring his protests. Crimson ran back toward the house at a speed that defied belief, reaching it in re minutes.
The doctor, pale and trembling, took one look at the house and froze. "I won't go in," he said in a final tone.
Crimson's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his voice cold as ice. "Be thankful for the chance to deliver a life. You are not allowed to turn your back on them. Because if you do, your body and head will be separated with sadness."
The doctor's knees buckled under the weight of Crimson's presence. Swallowing hard, he nodded and entered the house. Crimson stayed outside, leaning against the wall in silence. Ti passed slowly, but eventually, the cry of a newborn pierced the air. Crimson froze, the sound stirring sothing deep within him. It was the first ti he had ever played a role in bringing life into the world rather than taking it. He stood there for a long mont, unsure of what to feel.
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