Threads of Misfortune

by AidenJacksonSmithDSBB

Akito Hoshizora had pretty bad luck in general, he had accepted that as a fact however when he transferred to Chiba Academy for some reason his bad luck decided to ramp up for no reason. Also, what's this mark on his shoulder and why is it glowing? This story mainly won't be told from the OC's PoV but from those surrounding him with a few parts on him.

15. Chapter 15 - Ripples in the Ocean

So pretty short compared to the rest of the chapters. Thankfully I managed to not go too far over my limit of around 6-8k words.

The Title of this fic is "Threads of Misfortune" not "Thread of Misfortune", honestly with how the Honkai-Verse functions in general you couldn't honestly expect me not to dip my fingers further in.

-O-

Raiden Estate Dojo – 9:40 AM

THWACK.

THWACK.

THWACK.

The rhythmic sound of fists meeting forearms and palms echoed throughout the Raiden Estate's private dojo. Sunlight poured in through the open sliding doors, casting warm golden streaks across the polished wooden floors. A slight breeze drifted in from the garden outside, carrying with it the distant sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds—a stark contrast to the controlled violence happening within.

Mei sat cross-legged at the edge of the dojo, towel draped over her shoulders, sipping from a water bottle as she observed the ongoing spar. Her muscles ached from the brutal two-hour training session Akito had put her through, and she silently thanked Misako for stepping in and at least preventing him from dragging her out of bed at the crack of dawnagain.

Now, it was Kiana's turn.

The two fighters moved with precision—Kiana, ever the aggressive powerhouse, was relentless in her pursuit, her fists moving at blistering speeds, each strike packed with the sheer force of a runaway train. Akito, on the other hand, was the embodiment of controlled finesse. Unlike Kiana, whose every motion screamed of pure, unrestrained energy, Akito was smooth and deliberate, his movements akin to a leaf swaying effortlessly in the wind. He barely seemed to exert himself as he weaved through Kiana's attacks, allowing her own momentum to work against her.

At the far end of the dojo, Haruto and Airi had their phones up, recording every second of the fight.

"For training purposes," Haruto had initially claimed, but the gleam of excitement in his eyes as he zoomed in on the match told Mei otherwise. Airi, on the other hand, was already scrolling through video settings, no doubt thinking of ways to edit the footage before uploading it online.

Mei barely paid them any mind, too focused on analyzing the fight. She had always known Kiana to be a brawler at heart, but now, with the keen eyes of someone who Akito had repeatedly beaten down, she started to see the underlying structure in Kiana's form. It wasn't just reckless, brute-force aggression—there was something refined buried within her movements. Some of her attacks had sweeping motions as if she were wielding a broadsword rather than using her fists. The aborted slashes and instinctual shifts in her stance made Mei wonder justhowmuch of her fighting style had been influenced by wielding a weapon or ratherweaponsconsidering how some of her movements looked like something small was supposed to be in her hands, a knuckle-duster or gauntlet perhaps?

Akito, meanwhile, barely seemed fazed. He moved in time with Kiana's strikes, subtly redirecting her force without outright blocking her attacks. It was frustrating to watch—he wasn't even fighting her; he was playing with her.

"You gotta be kidding me…" Airi muttered as she watched the fight unfold, narrowing her eyes at Akito's frustratingly calm expression. "Is he even taking this seriously?"

Haruto let out a chuckle. "That's Akito for you. He doesn't fight—he reads. Kiana's the one putting in all the effort, but he's already planned his win conditions."

Airi rolled her eyes but continued watching intently.

Minutes passed. Kiana wasn't slowing down. If anything, her attacks were getting sharper, her movements more refined as she began adapting on the fly. But it wasn't enough.

Mei had seen this was setting up for the kill.

From the outside, it looked like Kiana was doing well—aggressive, and relentless. But Mei knew better. Akito had been applying pressure in small, almost imperceptible ways. Every time Kiana overextended, he struck a nerve point. Every time she threw a punch too forcefully, he redirected it just enough to strain her muscles.

Damage Over Time. One of Akito's favourite strategies.

Kiana didn't even realise it was happening.

Then, in one final exchange—THUD.

Kiana collapsed to her knees, her limbs feeling like they had been set ablaze. Her fingers twitched, her arms felt like lead, and even as she gritted her teeth and tried to force herself to stand, her body refused to obey.

Silence.

Akito, still in a guarded stance, didn't move immediately. He had seen Kiana pull off second winds before—hell, she thrived on counted the seconds in his head, eyes carefully observing her every twitch, waiting for that telltale movement that signalled she would launch another attack.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

A loud groan filled the dojo as Kiana finally flopped onto her back.

"Okay, okay! I give! Ican't feel my arms!" she whined dramatically, her head rolling to the side. "Howthe hell do you make it feel like I've been hit by a truck without actually hitting me?!"

Akito let out a slow exhale, finally relaxing his stance as he shook out his arms. "Nerve manipulation, fatigue stacking, and redirection."

Kiana groaned again, pouting. "That sounds illegal."

"It's not," Akito smirked. "But seeing the results it has on you and Mei maybe itshouldbe."

Haruto finally let out a laugh as he and Airi stopped recording. "That's definitely going online."

"Title it, 'The White Comet gets grounded,'" Airi suggested with a mischievous grin.

Kiana, still sprawled on the floor, let out a noise of pure betrayal. "Traitors!"

Mei couldn't help but chuckle. It was moments like these that reminded her how much she had grown to love this chaotic group of idiots.

And maybe,just maybe,she wouldn't mind losing to Akitoso badlynext time—if only to get better herself.

Mei chuckled as Kiana groaned on the floor, dramatically sprawled out like a defeated hero in an action movie. "This... this is cheating..." Kiana muttered, twitching her fingers as she tried—and failed—to lift her arms. "What the hell did youdoto me?"

Akito, still catching his breath, merely shrugged. "Pressure points, muscle fatigue, and a bit of patience." His tone was completely casual as if he hadn't just methodically dismantled her ability to move over the course of the fight. He crouched next to Kiana, tapping her forehead lightly. "You rely too much on your body's natural stamina. You push through pain like it's nothing, but the pain still adds up over time. You should start training your recovery speed,orlearn to end fights quicker."

Kiana grumbled something unintelligible before Airi burst into laughter. "Oh my god, Kiana, the comments are already rolling in!" She waved her phone in front of her, showing the live chat from their social media post of the fight.

StormBringer99:Bro got deleted by pressure points
ValiantHeart24:Nah, the way Akito just casually dodges like he's in a rhythm game is insane.
ThunderGoddess_Main:HOW IS HE SO CALM? Kiana's going full beast mode and he's justthere.
FinalBoomer:I don't know who trained this man, but I want them to train me too.
FlameEmpressFan:Kiana really thought she could brute force her way through, huh?

Haruto snorted as he rewatched the footage. "The slow-motion replay makes it even funnier. Kiana, you justcollapsed. No grace, no dignity, just—" He mimed a falling tree, earning a glare from the downed girl.

"I hate all of you," Kiana groaned, flopping onto her side dramatically. "Misako! Mei! Someone carry me!"

Misako, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You're on your own, kid. Maybe if you weren't so reckless, you wouldn't be in this position."

"Traitor," Kiana grumbled before glancing at Mei with puppy-dog eyes. "Mei-mei, my beloved, surely you wouldn't—"

Mei, blushing slightly from the nickname, sighed but crouched down, offering her a hand. "Fine, but only because if we leave you here, Akito might actually start using you as a training dummy."

Akito who looked a tad more thoughtful at the suggestion, opened his mouth.

Kiana seeing the look in his eye yelped and immediately scrambled up, nearly knocking Mei over in the process. "Nope! I'm good! I'msogood!"

The whole group burst into laughter as Kiana staggered upright, still shaking off the numbness. Akito, meanwhile, turned to Haruto. "Send me the footage later. I'll use it for analysis."

Haruto rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yeah, yeah, but fair warning, Iamposting a meme version."

"Expected," Akito said dryly.

Airi moved towards the back wall, adding another tally in Akito's favour. The scores currently sat at:Akito: 16, Kiana: 5, Mei: 0for live sparring.

As the group finally wrapped up their training session, they began making their way back inside, still teasing Kiana about her dramatic defeat. Even as the banter continued, Mei found herself stealing glances at Akito. His fighting style wastoorefined—too sharp for just casual training. He wasn't just good. He wastrained.

And that thought lingered in her mind long after they left the dojo.

-O-

Raiden Estate – Dining Room 10:00 AM

The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the Raiden Estate's spacious dining room, the scent of eggs, rice, miso soup, and grilled fish mixing with the comforting warmth of the morning. The sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables echoed from the kitchen as Akito, dressed in a simple black yukata, moved with practiced ease around the stove. His hair was still damp from thelightning-fasttwo-minute cold shower he had taken, but he paid it no mind—this was routine.

It was part of the agreement, after all.

Beat the hell out of them in the morning? Cook them food afterwards. Balance.

At the dining table, Misako sat comfortably with Sasha—her black-haired 'friend'(idiot, dumbass, future headache, fencer-sitter,insert Hanzo's colourful descriptions here), their hands occasionally brushing against each other as they made small talk. It was rare to see Misako so visibly relaxed, but being in Sasha's presence seemed to lower her guard, even just a little.

Across from them, Haruto and Airi were glued to their phones, scrolling through the live feed from earlier and laughing at some of the comments rolling in.

[User: WhiteCometFan77]– "Kiana vs Akito spar when?"
[User: SpectreWatcher]– "We literally just saw that. Did you miss the part where she gotfolded?"
[User: SwordSaint4Life]– "The way Akito moves isillegal—I refuse to believe he's human."
[User: MeiSupremacy]– "Mei's reaction when Kiana lost though "
[User: Just_A_Bystander]– "Did… did AkitonerfKiana?!"
[User: ChaosGremlinAiri]– "Guys, I'm calling it now: Next time, Kianawins."
[User: CallMeCars]– "She's gonna lose even harder. I canfeelit."

Haruto snorted. "Man, they really think Kiana's gonna win next time?"

Airi grinned, tapping on her screen. "I mean, never say never. Iamediting averydramatic highlight reel of Kiana's best moments."

Haruto peeked at her phone and gave her a skeptical look. "…You cut out every moment Akito countered her, didn't you?"

"Look, I'm just saying—narrative isimportant."

Before Haruto could argue further, the shuffling of slippers against the wooden floor signalled the arrival of the last two members of their group.

Kiana walked in first, still slightly damp from her shower, her expression caught somewhere between exhausted andveryvocal frustration.

"Ugh,Istillcan't feel my arms," she complained, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the lingering numbness. "That's gotta be illegal, right? IswearAkito's been doing some pressure point bullshit!"

Mei trailed in after her, offering only a sympathetic hum as she sat down next to her. She had been through theexactsame experience months ago when Akito had first started drilling her in Kendo. And while shehadimproved tremendously under his guidance, she still had vivid memories of how brutal his training could be.

"Trust me, Iknowhow you feel," Mei said, offering Kiana a small smile. "When I first trained with him, I thought my body was going togive upentirely. And that was just the first week."

Kiana turned to her with wide, betrayed eyes. "Mei. Why didn't youwarnme?"

Mei sighed, amused. "Would you havelistened?"

Kiana opened her mouth, paused, then huffed. "…Okay, fair point."

At the stove, Akito chuckled under his breath but didn't turn away from his cooking. "You'll get used to it," he said simply, flipping the last of the fish onto a plate. "You're improving faster than you think, Kiana. But if you rely too much on just your endurance, you're going to find yourself in more situations like today."

Kiana groaned and slumped forward, resting her chin on the table dramatically. "Can't I just punch my problems harder?"

Akito slid a bowl of rice in front of her. "Try that. If the bowl breaks, I'll consider your request."

Haruto and Airi burst into laughter as Kiana groaned louder, flopping against Mei for moral support.

Misako, watching the interaction with a knowing smirk, leaned toward Sasha and murmured, "It's like watching a bunch of siblings fight at breakfast."

Sasha smirked, stirring her tea. "It's nostalgic."

With everyone finally seated, Akito set down the last of the dishes before taking his own seat. The clinking of chopsticks and quiet murmurs of satisfaction filled the air as the group finally dug into their well-earned breakfast, another morning at the Raiden Estate beginning with its usualchaoticenergy.

-O-

The group continued eating, the clinking of chopsticks and the occasional sip of water being the only sounds filling the dining room. For a while, no one spoke, too focused on the well-earned meal after the morning's brutal sparring session. The warmth of the miso soup, the subtle crispness of the grilled fish, and the perfectly balanced seasoning of the rice made for a satisfying start to the day. Akito's cooking had, once again, proven itself to bewaybetter than it had any right to be—though Haruto was too used to it to be surprised anymore.

Halfway through his meal, Haruto glanced up at Akito, intending to thank him for both the food and the recording permission. But before he could say anything, he caught the subtle motion of Akito's hands beneath the table.

Five fingers on his right hand. Three on his left.

Haruto blinked. 'What the hell—'

Then, the memories of the New Year came flooding back.

"Commander, Ensign, and Officer are going to appear tomorrow."

Akito's words from the festival replayed in his mind, and realization clicked instantly. Three dogs—Commander, Ensign, and Officer—would bearriving judging by the fact that Akito was flashing this information sodiscreetly,the girlsstillweren't supposed to know.

Haruto had to physically fight the grin threatening to spread across his face.

Keeping his expression neutral, he subtly reached for his phone and lifted it slightly in askance. 'Can I record it?'

Akito paused mid-bite, glancing at the phone before tilting his head in consideration. There was a brief moment where Haruto couldseehim weighing the pros and cons, before finally, Akito gave a small nod.

But just as Haruto was about to let his amusement slip, Akito locked eyes with him and mouthed,'No live-streaming.'

Haruto rolled his eyes but nodded in understanding. He wasn't stupid—if the girls found outbeforethe reveal, that would ruin the entire thing.

Resuming his meal, Haruto triedveryhard not to smirk.

This was going to beinteresting.

-O-

Raiden Estate – 10:12 AM

The battle of wills had been fierce, but in the end, even Akito was no match for the combined pressure of two determined adults. Misako and Sasha hadinsistedon doing the dishes, tag-teaming him with a level of persistence that would make interrogators envious. Akito, despite his usual stubbornness, had been cornered. And when Kiana and Haruto saw an opportunity tophysicallyensure his compliance?

Well…

Akito found himselfbodilytackled to the floor, Kiana pressing down on his back while Haruto held down his legs, laughing as they succeeded in subduing him. His deadpan expression of resignation was only made funnier by Airi, who stood over them like a war photographer, phone in hand, snapping rapid pictures.

"Hold still, Akito~! Your suffering is gold for the internet!"Airi teased, the sound of camera clicks echoing through the room.

"This is unnecessary," Akito deadpanned, face smushed against the floor.

"No, it's justice," Mei commented from the side, sipping her tea as she watched the scene unfold withbarely concealed schadenfreude.

Moments later, a new post popped up on Airi's social media feed:

Airi K.Victory against the kitchen tyrant! #SufferingOfAkito #JusticeServed #DishesWonThisRound

The attached image showed a thoroughly unimpressed Akito pinned to the floor, Kiana grinning like a gremlin, Haruto giving a peace sign, and Mei looking smug in the background. The comment section wasinstantaneouslyflooded with laughing emojis, dramatic captions, and people demanding a video.

By the time the dishes were done and the kitchen was spotless, Akito had finally been released from histemporary imprisonment. He sighed in long-suffering patience, brushing off his clothes as if regaining his dignity—only for Kiana toruthlesslyruffle his hair just as he was about to speak.

"Alright, let's gobefore you guys try and bury me alive next," he muttered, swatting at Kiana's hands.

Still chuckling, the group moved toward the door, ready to head out for the next part of their day.

The group moved towards the main door, Kiana and Airi leading at the front, their animateddebateabout the day's plans growing louder by the second. Mei, as expected, wasdraggedinto their argument, her attempts to remain neutral failing miserably.

Haruto, walking alongside Mei, tuned them out, instead glancing at Akito, who trailed behind with Misako and Sasha.

Then he saw it—Akito side-eyeing him.

A moment later, Akito casually flashed one finger.

'One second.'

That wasallthe warning Haruto received before Akito grabbed his collar andyankedhim sideways—just as—

BAM!

The front doorexplodedopen.

A wall of fur came barreling in.

Haruto barely had time to react before threemassive,supersizeddogs—easily the size of full-grown lions—charged straight into the house.

A blur of black, white, and brown thundered toward Kiana, Airi, and Mei, completely overwhelming them before they could even react.

At the same time, when the second fur-coveredmissilehurtled towards Misako and Sasha,ploughingstraight into them and effectively taking them out.

THUD.

Then, complete and utterchaoserupted.

Shouts ofshock,confusion, andalarmfilled the air as Haruto, standing off to the side where Akito had yanked him,stared in open disbelief.

THUD.

Athirdwall of fur tackled Misako and Sasha from behind.

The next few seconds werepure chaos.

Haruto, pressed against the wall where Akito had yanked him, quickly took in the absurd scene.

Threegiganticdogs hadambushedthe group.

Not justbig dogs.

These weremonstrous—easily three to four times the size of any normal canine, theirtoweringforms lookingridiculously out of placein the estate's doorway.

The sheermassof the dogs was insane.

One looked like anoversized, ridiculously fluffyhusky—its thick fur making it look evenbigger. Another resembled theunholy fusionof a bear and a dog, all dense muscle and sheer weight. The last, anabsurdly massiveGerman Shepherd, wastoweringeven while seated, its thick tail thumping against the ground like adrumbeat of impending doom.

Haruto was still processing just howbigthey were when he saw them freeze.

Thetacklinghad ended.

The beasts, who had been mid-charge, now seemed to register they hadcollidedwith something.

Haruto barely processed anything before—

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Akito.

Pointing his left hand down.

The effect wasinstantaneous.

All three of the monstrous dogs immediately sat down.

Unfortunately, they chose to sit directly on top of their respective victims.

Kiana, Airi, and Mei—pancaked under two hundred-plus pounds ofenthusiastic dog weight. Misako and Sasha—completely immobilized under the husky, whose sheer fluff was almost deceptive compared to theactualtonnage it carried.

Haruto took a step closer, noticing something even more concerning—

They were completely trapped.

The dogs had leftjustenough room for them to breathe—but notenoughfor them to actually move.

They were effectively pinned.

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Kiana, nowsmotheredunder the colossal German Shepherd, let out afuriousmuffled yell.

"AKITO, GET YOUR DEMON DOGS OFF OF ME!"

Kiana'sfuriousvoiceroaredthrough the estate,muffledby the sheer massive husky currently flattening her into the floor.

Airi—half-crushedunder the bear-dog hybrid—was panting through gasps of air. Mei, who had initially beenwheezingunder the German Shepherd, had gone disturbingly quiet, her soulmomentarily leaving her bodyfrom sheer disbelief.

Misako and Sasha, stilltrappedunder the husky, werelessvocal—mostly because they had been too stunned to properly react.

Pinned beneath thefluffiest husky in existence, they both lookedcompletely unamused.

Misako, eyeshalf-lidded in betrayal, slowly turned her head toward Akito. Sasha, equally unimpressed, adjusted her position slightly, expression unreadable.

Anothermomentof silence passed.

And then—

"Akito."

Misako's voice wasdangerouslyflat.

Akito, standingentirely unfazedwith his arms crossed,deadpannedback at her.

"Technically, you guys broke their fall."

That earned him achorusof muffled groans.

Haruto, who hadjust barelyavoided the fate of beingpancaked, tried—andfailed—to suppress his grin.

He pulled out his phone, snapped a quick picture of theabsolute disasterbefore him, and then smirked at Akito.

"So, Akito…" he started, voice dripping with amusement, "When were you going to tell us you owned actual war beasts?"

-O-

Side Stories Part One: (Omake)The Imaginary Tree

The Imaginary Tree is a theoretical construct representing an infinite structure of interconnected stable worlds, branching infinitely through the dimension of time. Each branch stems from a single moment of divergence, a small decision, a tiny shift, that sets the course of history onto a new path.

Imagine flipping a coin. There are only two outcomes—heads or tails. But in that singular moment, the world splits into two distinct branches: one where the coin lands on heads, and one where it lands on tails.

At first, such differences seem insignificant. But given time, those divergences compound. A minor variation cascades into an entirely different reality.

What if that coin flip decided the fate of a kingdom? The course of a war? The survival of a single person who would go on to shape the world?

Each of these branches reaches a leaf, the current observable state of its world. Each branch is self-contained, with its own timeline, reality, and existence. And yet, these worlds are not truly parallel—for they exist not beside one another, but as echoes, reflections, and possibilities in an infinite structure.

Within the vast expanse of the Imaginary Tree, Akito Hoshizora exists in countless variations.

In some branches, his story was short-lived, his journey ending before it ever began.

In others, the people who shaped him never existed, leaving him a different man—or perhaps, never allowing him to become one at all.

Somewhere, he was an ordinary person, leading a simple life untouched by the extraordinary.

Elsewhere, he was born on a distant planet, in another era, beneath a different sky.

Yet among the infinite branches of possibility, there exist those that are truly unique—paths unlike any other, forged in the unknown, where destiny takes a turn far beyond what anyone could have imagined.

We have some time to kill so let's take a look at one of these worlds, shall we?

-O-

Vale Wilderness – Outside the Kingdom of Vale: Time 9:00 pm

The wind howled through the dense, ancient forest, rustling the canopy of gnarled trees that stood like silent sentinels in the dark. The moonlight barely cut through the thick mist creeping along the forest floor, casting eerie shadows that twisted and slithered like living things.

This place would be unnerving to any normal traveller, if not outright terrifying.

The air was thick with tension, an unseen force pressing down, suffocating, as if the entire world was holding its breath. It was a feeling that any Huntsman or Huntress worth their salt would immediately recognize.

Grimm were near.

Yet, there was something wrong.

Grimm were creatures of instinct, of hunger, drawn to the scent of fear, anger, sorrow—all the negative emotions that made up the essence of mortal struggle. They did not hesitate. They did not falter. They devoured.

And yet… they were waiting.

The usual guttural growls of Beowolves, the chittering of Creeps, the distant howls of Nevermores circling overhead—all of it washushed. The presence of Grimm was undeniable, yet they did not advance. They did not strike.

They were watching.

Waiting for something.

No…

Waiting for someone.

Through the thick mist, it came.

A lone figure walked down the worn dirt path, slow and deliberate, as if it belonged there, as if the creatures of darkness themselves had no power over it.

The Grimm did not charge.

They parted.

Like a sea of shadow and bone, the monsters that terrorized the world moved aside, allowing the lone traveler to pass without resistance.

Not out of fear.

But respect.

Reverence.

The Child had arrived.

A being of myth. A nightmare whispered in hushed voices among the people of Remnant.

To the ignorant, it was a tale told to frighten children. A mere fairy tale, spun from paranoia and fear.

To the few who knew the truth, it was something far more dangerous.

For the world believed that the Grimm were nothing more than mindless beasts.

Few knew that only Salem—the immortal Queen of Grimm—held dominion over these creatures.

But that was a lie.

There was another.

Not a god. Not a queen. Not a creation of darkness itself.

Just a wanderer.

One whose true name had been long forgotten, never given and thus buried beneath the sands of time.

A being despised by humankind—shunned, hunted, and feared for an ability they could not understand.

The power to command the Grimm.

Some called it the Harbinger.

Others, the Spectre.

But most simply whispered the name in fear and awe…

The Child of Grimm.

And it walked unseen, neither accepted by humans nor consumed by the Grimm, existing in the shadows, a legend that refused to die.

A mistake

A force of nature.

A Curse.

-O-

Fifteen years ago, a child was born—one unlike any other in the history of Remnant.

No one knewwhy. No one knewhow. But the moment the child took its first breath, the world changed.

The Grimm came.

They did not storm the village in mindless hunger. They did not attack. They simply...watched.

Beowolves lurked at the tree line, glowing red eyes piercing the night. Nevermores circled high above, their massive wings blotting out the moonlight. Ursas and Boarbatusks stood at attention, silent sentinels awaiting a command that would never come.

They were nothunting.

They werewaiting.

Forhim.

For the child.

Humans fear what they do not understand. And fear makes themdangerous.

The boy's parents—his supposed protectors—made a decision.

Their lives were worth more than a child they barely knew.

So they took him. Wrapped in a simple blanket, still fresh to the world, still unaware.

And theythrew himinto the waiting jaws of the Grimm.

They turned and ran, hoping—praying—that the monsters would be satisfied with that sacrifice. That they would take the child and leave them in peace.

The Grimm did not chase.

They did notkill.

They simply left.

An Alpha Beowolf gently lifted the infant, grasping the tattered blanket between its teeth. The Nevermores above ceased their circling and took flight, leading the way. Ursas formed a protective perimeter, shielding their cargo as Boarbatusks cleared a path forward.

The humans never saw the boy again.

Forfive years, the world forgot about the forsaken child.

Until he returned.

An unnamed town sat on the southern edges of Vale, a place of little significance in the grand scheme of things. It was a town like any other—quiet, routine, and untouched by the chaos of the world beyond its borders.

Thenhearrived.

A child, no older than five, with raven-black hair streaked with silver and red veins across his arms. His eyes, an unnatural shade of burning white and red, held an eerie stillness far beyond his years.

The moment he stepped into town, the whispers began.

The children were warned to stay away. Parents pulled them close, whispering fearful prayers under their breath. The people treated him as something less than human—worse than a Faunus, worse than an outcast.

He was somethingunnatural.

But the boy did not leave.

He did not beg.

He did not cry.

He simply...watched.

He watched the children go to school. He watched them laugh, play, eat, and return to their families. He observed the warmth they shared, the unspoken connections between them. He did not understand it, but he wanted to.

He watched.

And then, someone had enough.

A local boy—braver, angrier, stupider than the rest—stepped forward.

"Stop staring, freak!"

He shoved the boy into the dirt.

The loose, tattered sleeve of the child's shirt slid up, revealing the black and red veins coursing through his skin. The sight sent a jolt of horror through the crowd.

"Monster!"

The word was spat like venom.

Then came the firststrike.

Then another.

Then another.

A mob formed, fueled byfearandignorance. They struck him, clawed at him, screamed at him—trying todestroywhat they did not understand.

And then...

Ablade.

It plunged deep into his chest.

His blood splattered the dirt, the scent thick in the air.

The child did not disappear like a Grimm.

He bled.

He suffered.

He wasalive.

And then thehowlscame.

From the shadows of the forest, from the depths of the abyss,they came.

Howls. Screeches. Roars of fury and vengeance, echoing through the land.

The Grimmhad arrived.

Anarmysurged from the wilderness,unstoppableandunrelenting.

The town's defenses barely held against theland-bound Grimm, but they could not stop what lurked above.

AmonolithicNevermore descended from the heavens, its massive wings casting a shadow over the town.

It landed with a force that shattered the ground.

And itscreamed.

The town's protectors, the so-called Huntsmen, were torn apart inseconds.

The ones who had attacked the child—the ones who had struck him down—were the first to die.

The Nevermore took the child in its talons and ascended into the sky, carrying him away as the Grimmslaughteredeveryone who remained.

The town burned.

The people perished.

And the boy was given aname.

TheHarbinger.

A demon clothed in human skin. Amonsterwrapped in the guise of a child.

But to the fewsurvivorswho made it out alive—who told their story in broken whispers andfearful prayers—

He was somethingworse.

He was theChild of Grimm.

-O-

Western Side of the Emerald Forest – 10:00 AM

A heavy mist drifted between the towering trees of the Emerald Forest, sunlight breaking through in fractured beams. The usual chorus of rustling leaves, distant howls, and the calls of crows was interrupted by an unnatural sound.

Clomp. Clomp.

A rhythmic, measured trotting echoed through the forest, growing closer.

The source of the sound was enough to send a chill down the spine of anyone who witnessed it—a horse, but not an ordinary one.

It was the size of a large human, built for speed, but twisted by darkness. Its body was black and white, a sharp contrast of light and shadow, veins glowing crimson like molten lava running through cracks in a dying world. Its hooves, instead of iron or bone, resembled jagged shards of obsidian, leaving faint scorched prints in the grass with every step.

A Grimm.

Yet unlike any known before.

Most would run at the sight. Others would scramble for their scrolls to send an emergency alert to Beacon or the nearest Huntsman.

But perhaps the most unsettling part of the scene was the figure seated atop the Grimm.

A cloaked rider.

The figure sat with ease, one hand holding the mane, the other resting lazily against their lap as if they had done this a thousand times before. Casual.Comfortable. Unbothered.

As if riding a Grimm horse was as natural as breathing.

The horse slowed its pace to a steady walk, its rider's cloak shifting with the breeze, faint embers glowing at the edges. Their face was hidden, but something about them—the way they moved, the way the Grimm responded to their presence—made it clear.

They were not afraid.

And neither was the Grimm.

Hidden among the trees, a Beowolf lurked, its red eyes glowing like dying embers. It had been drawn here, pulled by something familiar, yet...wrong. It snarled lowly, its claws digging into the dirt.

This should not be.

Grimm could only beCommanded.Grimm did notserve. They did notcarry. They did notobey.

And yet… this one did.

The Beowolf stepped closer, its instincts torn between aggression and an odd, unexplainable pull. Itfeltthe presence of the rider—an overwhelming, suffocating sensation that made the Grimm hesitate.

The rider turned their head slightly.

The Beowolf froze.

For a brief second, somethingpassedbetween them.

A command?

A warning?

The Beowolf whimpered, lowering itself into the grass, ears flattening. A second later, itretreated, slinking into the shadows of the forest.

The Grimm horse continued its path, its rider unmoved by the exchange.

As if this was normal.

As if this wasroutine.

The morning sun climbed higher, casting longer shadows. In the distance, the faint sound of voices—students, trainees, Huntsmen-to-be—unaware of what moved just beyond their reach.

A myth. A legend. A ghost.

And it rode toward Beacon.

The rustling of leaves, the snapping of twigs, and the near-silent padding of paws filled the clearing.

The Grimm had gathered.

Beowolves—dozens of them—emerged from the shadows, red eyes glowing like distant embers in the mist. Their movements were slow, measured, not with hostility… but uncertainty.

Why?

They did notfearthe rider.

They did nothatethe rider.

Instead,they wanted something.

Something they couldn't understand.

Something they had never felt before.

The Grimm horse snorted, shifting slightly, but did not react beyond that. Its loyalty to its rider was unshaken. It did not challenge the Beowolves.

Because it did not need to.

The Beowolves circled, muscles tensed—not in aggression, but inlonging.

Theywantedthe rider.

No. Not as prey. Not as something to destroy.

They wanted them, they hadsomethingthat drove them to them.

To belong to them.

A strange, foreign feeling stirred within them, something alien to their very existence. They were empty creatures—shadows given form, beasts driven by instinct and destruction. They were not meant to want unless it was death or destruction.

Yet they did.

Something about the cloaked figure called to them, pulled at them.

And they obeyed.

An Alpha Beowolf stepped forward.

A towering mass of muscle and fur, its black and red form a symbol of dominance among its kind. Any lesser Beowolf would have expected violence from the pack, a swift and brutal punishment for lowering its head.

But none came.

None dared.

Because this time was different.

The Alpha's head dipped further, its glowing eyes locking onto the cloaked rider.

A silent plea.

A desperate yearning for something it couldn't name.

The rider dismounted without hesitation. The Grimm horse stood still, utterly calm, as if it had expected this.

Slowly, methodically, the figure stepped forward.

A hand reached out.

This should not be.

A Grimm should not allow a human to touch it. To exist so close without tearing them apart.

And yet—

Contact.

Fingers met coarse, bristling fur.

The Alpha shuddered.

For the first time in its existence, it felt something beyond hunger, beyond instinct.

It felt whole.

Complete.

The searing, empty rage that defined its being eased, as if smothered by something warm, something real.

And where once stood a mindless beast, now stood something else.

A silver and black Beowolf, veins pulsing not with raw malice, but something new. Something different.

Something alive.

And the rest of the pack?

They watched.

They understood.

And one by one, they knelt.

-O-O-

The unknown figure observed the Grimm, feeling a sense of quiet satisfaction.

They had changed.

Not in the way humanity would have wanted.

No.

These creatures were still Grimm, still beasts of darkness. They would still hunt, still rend flesh from bone, still feast on the screams of the weak.

But now—

Now they could feel.

Not just hatred. Not just emptiness. Not just the mindless hunger for destruction that had defined them for centuries.

Now, they had more.

They could knowsadness.
They could knowhappiness.
They couldlongfor things,desiresomething beyond death and ruin.
They could feel love, joy, contentment.

And all the figure had done—was let them.

Let them experience more than the simple, twisted instincts they were born with.

Let them be filled.

Let them be complete.

The figure saddled their mount, one hand running absentmindedly along the creature's blackened, bone-plated neck. The Grimm steed remained still, patient, as if awaiting an unspoken command.

The figure had no destination in mind—not yet—but they had spent enough time here.

It was time to move on.

They gave a small tap of their heels, urging their mount forward.

But before they could leave the clearing, they heard it.

Footsteps.

Many of them.

The figure halted, not out of surprise—because they already knew—but out of something else.

Something close to amusement.

They turned their head slightly.

Sure enough, the entire pack of Beowolves was standing behind them, eyes fixed on them.

Not as a predator watches prey.

Not as a hunter watches a target.

But as something watching their leader.

As something watching their purpose.

The Alpha Beowolf stood at the front, its silver-and-black fur already beginning to darken back to its natural hues. It would fade, as it always did. The change was never permanent.

But the feeling would remain.

And that was enough.

The rider sighed—not in frustration, not in disappointment, but with something softer.

A quiet, resigned acceptance.

Then, a small smile.

They raised a hand.

And with a simple gesture forward, they gave the only answer they needed.

Follow.

And the Grimm obeyed.

One by one, the creatures of darkness fell into formation, their footfalls silent yet purposeful.

They did not hesitate.

They did not question.

Because they belonged to the rider.

And now—

They moved as one.

-O-

The small Nevermore remained perched upon the broken security camera, its piercing red eyes watching as the rider and their pack disappeared into the forest's shadows.

It did not follow.

It stayed behind.

Because it had a duty.

The others—the pack, the wolves, the creatures of darkness—had left with their Light.

But someone had to guard the trail.

Someone had to ensure the Witch and the Wizard never found them.

And so the Nevermore waited, its talons gripping the broken metal, wings tucked in close to its small, feathered body.

It could still remember—remember the first time it had seen them.

It was a hatchling, barely larger than a crow. Weak. Unimportant. A creature that would have been torn apart by its own kind if it so much as hesitated.

Yet when it had first looked upon the Child, when its small, blackened wings had carried it toward that figure—

The child had not feared it.

The child had not attacked it.

The child had reached out—not with a weapon, not with a threat—but with awe.

With warmth.

And when the First Wolf had grabbed it—had seized the little being in its powerful jaws—the pack had expected to hear bones shatter.

To watch the small thing be ripped apart as all humans were supposed to be.

But instead—

The First Wolf had carried it.

Not as prey.

Not as a kill.

But as one of their own.

And the pack had followed.

They had abandoned their original purpose—to annihilate the town, to tear apart whatever had called them there—because they had found what they were looking for.

Not prey.

Not blood.

Not slaughter.

But completion.

Contentment.

Purpose.

Things they had never known they needed—but now could never let go of.

The Nevermore tightened its grip on the ruined security camera, its gaze sweeping over the empty clearing.

They did not care about hunting humans.

They did not care for the Witch and her war.

They did not care for the Wizard and his false hopes.

The Pack cared for only one thing.

Their Child.

Their Light.

And if anyone—be it human, Huntsman, or even the Witch herself—ever tried to take them away…

Then the entire pack would tear them apart.

Piece by bloody piece.

The small Nevermore let out a quiet, guttural click, then spread its darkened wings.

It took off, gliding soundlessly into the trees.

It had a job to do.

It had a trail to cover.

What are your thoughts on this Short Story? I'm planning on adding a couple more at the end of some chapters later on. RWBY was the first, as originally I wanted to make a HI3 x RWBY fic with my OC with them...but it felt wrong for me to make that without any context. When I started this fic I was bombarded with ideas for Crossovers I could do but I also didn't want to make new stories that in all fairness probably wouldn't go anywhere... so I'll compromise on this; Alternative Universes. If it says (Side-Stories), then it's Canon to the main story, if it says (Omake), then it isn't, you can simply think of it as another universe. Also, I don't think I've said this yet but Akito won't be shipped with any of the Canon Couples, for the main cast at best he would be a socially inept brother figure.

See you in the next one!