For everyone else, the saddest day was the day that she stopped smiling. She deserved it though. It was her fault.
She had never let anything stop her before. She went toe to toe with one of the most powerful men on Remnant. She brought him to a stand still. She made him compromise.
When her team went as a exchange students to Atlas during the the second term of their third year, she knew what to expect. A faunus teammate and a relationship with the daughter of one of the most bigoted men to exist.
Her cheery attitude prevailed. No matter what the threats were, she refused to relent. She came back smiling the next day. Every day she stepped into that man's office. Every day she smiled, greeted him, and asked what she could do to gain his acceptance.
Her task was sisyphean.
She did the impossible.
He relented.
He gave her a short statement. It could have been a blessing or a curse.
All Schnee are right handed, except for her. Always make sure to stand to her left side. That is where she is the weakest.
She only had one job. She only had one way to prove herself worthy. Only one thing and she failed.
How could she have been so careless? How could she have let herself lose focus?
Months of worry had passed. They hid their relationship for almost half a year and they had danced around their feelings for each other for almost a year prior. It was never the right moment. They always feared they had more to lose than gain. The risk couldn't possibly be worth the gain, could it? Now it was just wasted time.
Hospitals are so sterile. So bereft of hope. Most know them as places of healing. But, in the life of a Huntress, they are also places where people live just long enough to die in a bed, attached to machines that beep incessantly.
That couldn't happen.
Non-responsive is what they told her. When a body takes too much damage it can fall into a coma. Two weeks and the aura still hadn't started to regenerate. She had lost her mother, and at one time she thought she had lost her sister too. Her sister had even lost her arm to a maniac from the white fang and moped in the hospital for weeks. Those all had a definitive outcome; a known emotional barrier to overcome. Those weren't because of her. This, showing up at the hospital every day, being told maybe everyday. This was worse.
Maybe they'll make it. Maybe they won't.
Either way it's all your fault. If she makes it, you don't deserve her.
So she didn't smile.
Yellow comes. Yellow tells her she did her best. It's a lie. Yellow is always looking out for her. From the beginning till the end. Her surrogate mother. The one who would give their life for her. Of course Yellow would tell her what would make her happy. Yellow tells her to have courage. Yellow smiles at her, she can't smile back.
Black follows. Her hidden sister. Always watching out from the shadows. Black tells her not to worry. Everything will be fine. Black took care of her and she took care of Black when worse came to worse. Black is taking care of her again. Black tells her to have faith. Black smiles at her, she can't smile back.
White. Her greatest desire. Her greatest failure. What she wants the most. What she fought for the most. It's what she deserves the least. What would White say to her? She did her best? She tried her hardest? She participated? She was present? She was goofing off? She messed up again? It's her fault? She's a failure?
How dare I presume I would even be worthy to stand in her presence? How could I presume that I would be strong enough to protect her?
It was just supposed to be a simple mission. Go clear out the grimm threatening a town. It was a job that could be done by a team of first years. It was supposed to be easy. The hardest thing they had come across was a young deathstalker. It didn't even last a minute against the growing crescendo of Yellow's attacks. It was supposed to be complete. She did her duty, she defended the left side while she lead her team. One beowolf remaining, or so they thought. It fled, she chased. She crossed the threshold. The second beowolf, the Alpha they missed, didn't care. It filled her absent spot. Its claws shredded and cut. Flesh tore from bone. Nothing could take that back.
Those idioms we use in everyday situations. We don't think of them, or heed the warnings they bring. If only we learned the lessons they taught. She had never thought before why we call our most trusted our right hand man. When a swordsman draws his sword, or extends for a strike, he is at his weakest on that side. The right hand man is entrusted with protecting that weak spot.
All Schnee are right handed, except for her.
Of course she didn't pay attention to the weight of those words, nor the implications of what it meant. His youngest daughter, who draws her blade from the wrong side, had learned to trust no one. Those who have stood with her always stood to her right. Driven by ignorance or cowardice, they only sought to stand in her strength. To be protected, not to protect.
Nights were now filled with anger and sorrow. The forest surrounding Beacon were the clearest they have been. Hordes of Grimm drawn to a singularity of negativity, only to be cut down until none could hear her dark call anymore. Days were spent sleeping in the only place she could. Sitting in a chair to the left of the bed, her head resting on the white sheets. The incessant beeping of the medical devices were the only lullaby she had. Her only proof that the line between life and death still existed.
She trusted you to protect her where she needed it the most. You left her for another tally mark.
The sun was shining so brightly that day. It would have been perfect for a picnic. It would have been perfect to sit in a tree and read. It would have been perfect for a friendly outdoor game with their friends.
They thought it was a perfect day to listen to her. Heavy footfalls from combat boots mixed with the sharp clicks of heeled footwear as they boarded the Bullhead. The floor was so clean. So shiny, so dry. It wasn't preserved by the return journey.
Blood, sweat, and tears. Normally said to sound tough. It shows motivation. Nothing is tough about three exhausted teenagers crying over a pool of blood and a quickly failing body. Nothing is motivating about white turning red.
You couldn't even save her after that. Someone else had to carry her for you.
She lifted her head from where it lay on the edge of the hospital bed to inspect the aura gauge. Empty. Why must it be so stubborn? She placed her head back down on the clean white sheets. She tried to cry, but couldn't. She didn't deserve the cathartic relief tears bring. She deserved to feel the pain that she brought onto others.
She was so lost in her self-despair she almost missed it. The slight, almost imperceptible 'ding'. It was a foreign sound among the humming machines that surrounded her. She sat up and cast her gaze for the offending entity that would dare intrude. Her eyes locked onto the machine that she had stared at for weeks. The aura gauge she had grown to hate for its adamant resolve to remain inactive. A small red hash now showed on the far left side.
That was it. A few pixels of color. Normally those small dots would be so meaningless, so insignificant. But now? She steeled herself. She must have courage. She must have faith. She dared to look at the girl in front of her. One icy blue orb stared back.
She made to leave but a shaky hand, weak and swathed in bandages, held her back. The girl had every right to hate her. Every right to scold her. To pass judgement. In that one eye there was none of it. No hate, no anger, no scorn.
The girl smiled at her. So genuine and full of love. She ached to return it. She couldn't though, not yet.
Not yet, but maybe one day she could smile again.