Morning, Argus Hospital
The doctors themselves insisted that Rinko stay within the hospital and will still stay there within the following days. It's been a day since he was relieved from the Nightmare's grasp.
Right now, he's sitting on his bed as the sunlight bathed the entire room he's in.
And yet, his mind is on a different place.
Yesterday, Evening
Rinko's fingers curled slightly against the sheets, feeling the fabric crumple beneath his grip. His body was still heavy, sluggish—like he was wearing a suit of lead beneath his skin. His mind felt much the same, weighed down by memories that weren't his, emotions that weren't entirely his own.
He was here. Awake. Alive.
And yet, something inside him felt hollow.
The dreamscape was gone, but the echoes of it clung to the edges of his mind, like the remnants of a nightmare that refused to fully fade. He could still feel the weight of that world—the way it had unraveled around him, slipping through his fingers like sand. Kakashi had been there until the very end, watching him, grounding him in ways he never expected.
Now, though, it was just him.
No more voices whispering in the back of his mind. No more illusions pulling him away from reality.
Just Rinko Schnee, lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by the people who had been waiting for him.
His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the faces of his friends—his family. He could see the relief in their eyes, the warmth in their smiles. It should have been comforting. It was comforting.
But when his eyes landed on Weiss, the warmth inside him twisted into something else.
She was smiling, but only barely. The exhaustion was plain in her posture, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way her arms folded tightly over her chest. And beneath it all—beneath the relief, the quiet acceptance—there was something distant about her gaze, something Rinko couldn't quite place.
Because she wasn't really looking at him.
She was looking at someone who wasn't there anymore.
Rinko swallowed, his throat dry.
He had known, deep down, that things would never go back to the way they were. That even if he opened his eyes again, some things would remain broken.
But knowing it didn't make it any easier.
The original Rinko's words lingered in his mind when the time Beacon fell.
Flashback (From Chapter 50)
...
"You... want to thank me?" Kakashi asked cautiously, his gaze shifting between the outstretched hand and the other Rinko's face.
The original Rinko nodded. "You've kept my body alive. You've protected my family, my sister, my legacy. You've done more than I could have ever hoped for. And for that... I owe you."
Kakashi hesitated, his mind swirling with uncertain emotions.
Slowly, cautiously, Kakashi reached out and clasped the other Rinko's hand. Their grips were firm, their gazes locked in an unspoken understanding.
"If you're here, what does that mean? Are you taking your body back?"
The original Rinko shook his head, a quiet certainty in his gaze. "No. This is still your fight, Kakashi. I've already had my chance at life. This second chance... it's yours."
Kakashi didn't respond immediately. His mind raced, trying to process the enormity of the words. He inhaled deeply, composing himself as he stepped forward. "Mine...? Why? Why not take back what's yours? What's the purpose of giving your life to me? Surely you could—"
Rinko Schnee raised a hand, cutting him off with a subtle gesture. His expression softened, though his eyes remained steady. "Because you're more worthy of this life than I ever was. I couldn't protect them, Kakashi. Not my family, not my sister, not the legacy I was meant to uphold." He sighed, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and resolve. "But you... you can. That's why I'm entrusting everything—my name, my legacy—to you."
Kakashi's brow furrowed. "Legacy? Protecting your family? That's a heavy burden to bear. Why are you so certain I can do it?"
Rinko Schnee turned away slightly, his gaze distant as if looking into some unseen memory. "Because I've been watching you. Every moment, every decision. You've done more with my life than I ever could..."
"Wait—!" Kakashi started, his voice urgent.
But Rinko Schnee raised his hand, his smile calm and reassuring, though there was a hint of finality in his eyes. "Good luck, Kakashi. And... take care of her."
The last thing Kakashi saw was the original Rinko's face, serene and unwavering, before the dream dissolved entirely, pulling him back into the waking world.
End of Flashback
Morning, Argus Hospital, Current Time
The golden sunlight stretched across the white sheets of his bed, casting soft shadows on the sterile walls. The faint beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence, a steady rhythm that contrasted with the turbulence in Rinko's mind.
His fingers curled slightly against the sheets, just as they had last night. Only this time, the weight in his chest was heavier.
He had spent the entire night thinking.
Thinking about what the original Rinko had said. About what it meant.
"This second chance... it's yours."
His.
Rinko Schnee had entrusted his name, his body, his legacy to him. Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. But because he had believed in him.
And that was a truth that Rinko—the one lying in this hospital bed, the one who had lived as Kakashi Hatake—had to accept.
Because no matter how much he struggled with it, no matter how much he hesitated, the fact remained: He wasn't him.
He would never be.
And Weiss... Weiss knew that too.
That was why she looked at him the way she did. Why her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Why, even though she was relieved he was alive, something inside her still ached.
She was looking at someone who wasn't there anymore.
And the worst part?
She was right.
Rinko exhaled, his grip tightening on the blanket as his gaze drifted toward the door.
He could keep pretending. Keep moving forward as if nothing had changed. But that wasn't fair. Not to Weiss. Not to the real Rinko Schnee.
And not to himself.
A sigh left his lips as he lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing at the lingering headache that had settled in ever since he woke up. The weight of his thoughts pressed against his chest, coiling tightly like a serpent refusing to let go.
With a quiet groan, he leaned back against the pillows, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling. The stark white panels above him felt unfamiliar—cold and impersonal, much like the reality he had found himself waking up to.
"What a pain..."
The words left his lips in a muttered breath, not meant for anyone but himself.
Rinko turned his head slightly as the door swung open.
Selene entered, carrying a tray of food in her hands. Her movements were composed, elegant as always, though there was an unmistakable sharpness in her gaze. She carried herself with the same air of professionalism that defined her, but even then, Rinko knew she wasn't the type to miss details—especially not when it came to him.
"Master Rinko," she greeted, her voice steady yet gentle. "Breakfast is ready."
She adjusted her glasses slightly before stepping closer, setting the tray down on the bedside table. The faint clink of porcelain filled the air as she arranged the dishes with practiced precision.
Rinko sat up, forcing his body to move despite the exhaustion weighing him down. He reached for the tray, fingers brushing against the warm surface of the plate.
"Thank you, Selene," he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.
She simply nodded, taking a seat beside him on the small chair near the bed.
Rinko stared at the food for a moment, absently picking up the utensils. The scent was pleasant, and logically, he knew he should eat. His body needed the energy after everything it had been through.
But he didn't feel hungry.
His movements were slow and mechanical as he brought a small bite to his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, but the taste barely registered. It all felt... empty.
Selene, ever observant, took notice.
She watched him, taking in the slight furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes, the way he barely made an effort to eat.
"Master Rinko," she began, her voice soft but firm.
He paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
She studied him carefully, her sharp gaze unwavering. "Is something bothering you?" She hesitated for a brief second before adding, "You seem... troubled."
Rinko blinked at her before chuckling lightly, though there was little humor in it.
"I'm fine, Selene," he said, offering her a faint smile.
It was a weak attempt at reassurance, one that did little to convince her. Selene remained silent for a moment, but her expression didn't waver.
She didn't believe him—And truthfully?
Neither did he.
A heavy silence settled between them, lingering like an unspoken truth neither wanted to address.
But before Selene could press further, the door creaked open once more.
Rinko turned his head as another familiar figure stepped inside.
Oscar.
No—this wasn't just Oscar.
The way he carried himself, the deliberate calm in his movements, the faint wisdom in his eyes—it was Ozpin who was in control.
Selene straightened subtly in her seat, ever composed, but there was a flicker of acknowledgment in her gaze.
Ozpin closed the door behind him with a soft click before moving forward, his presence unintrusive yet firm. He approached with the same measured steps as always, an air of quiet authority surrounding him.
Without a word, he pulled a chair closer to Selene's and sat down beside her, positioning himself near Rinko's bedside.
His expression was gentle, but his gaze held layers—observation, curiosity, and something deeper.
"How are you feeling?" Ozpin asked, his voice even.
Rinko exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair before offering a weak smile.
"Better."
It was the truth, technically. He wasn't fighting for control over his own body anymore, wasn't trapped in an endless illusion. He had woken up. He had survived.
And yet, better didn't mean fine.
Ozpin and Selene exchanged brief glances—subtle, but noticeable. A silent conversation passed between them, their thoughts aligning before Ozpin turned back to Rinko.
The older soul cleared his throat lightly, breaking the quiet.
"Weiss told everyone what happened within the Nightmare," he began, his tone measured but deliberate. "That you weren't the Rinko Schnee she knew but someone else."
Selene raised an eyebrow.
Rinko's fingers tensed slightly against the edge of the tray, but he said nothing.
Ozpin studied him for a moment before continuing.
"Qrow and Team JNPR were taken aback by this revelation. As you can imagine, it wasn't an easy thing to hear."
Rinko exhaled through his nose, his grip loosening as he leaned back against the pillows.
"I figured," he muttered. "Not exactly the kind of news you can just drop and expect everything to be fine afterward."
Ozpin hummed in quiet agreement. "No, it isn't."
A moment of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Selene remained composed beside them, but her gaze flickered between Rinko and Ozpin, watching their exchange with careful attention.
Rinko swallowed, forcing himself to meet Ozpin's gaze directly.
"And Weiss?" he asked, voice quieter than before.
Ozpin's expression didn't change much, but there was something softer in the way he regarded Rinko now.
"She didn't say much after explaining it to the others," he admitted. "She stayed quiet for the most part. But... I don't think she has fully processed it yet."
Rinko's jaw tightened.
He had expected as much.
After all, how could she?
"I see.." Rinko murmured to himself, his voice heavy with resignation.
Ozpin's tone softened as he continued, "Rest assured, everyone here—except perhaps Weiss—doesn't see you differently. Since you joined Beacon, they've come to know you as Kakashi in Rinko's body. In their eyes, you are still the brave, resourceful warrior you always were. The only person deeply affected by this transformation is Weiss. She shared a bond with the original Rinko Schnee—a connection that ran far deeper than simple camaraderie. Because of that, she struggles to reconcile the man she once knew with the person you are now."
He paused, his eyes briefly meeting Rinko's before adding, "But take heart. The others have accepted you, and they continue to call you Rinko, as it is what feels right to them. In time, Weiss will come to understand too, even if it takes longer than the rest of us."
Selene listened intently to Ozpin's words, but a flicker of confusion passed through her usually composed features.
'What did he mean by that?'
She had been by Rinko's side throughout the night, ensuring he was stable and well-rested. However, she was not present when Weiss revealed the secret to the others.
Her grip tightened slightly on the hem of her skirt as she processed Ozpin's words. Something significant had occurred while she was absent—something that had shaken Weiss to her core. Selene prided herself on knowing everything that transpired around the Schnee family, yet this was an unfamiliar piece of the puzzle.
She turned to Rinko, her piercing gaze searching his face for any unspoken truth. He avoided her eyes, instead focusing on his half-eaten meal, pushing the food around with his chopsticks rather than eating. That alone spoke volumes.
"Master Rinko," she said, her voice steady but laced with quiet concern. "What exactly happened?"
Rinko turned to Selene, his grip tightening slightly around his spoon. His gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, searching—perhaps for something he couldn't quite name. She was expecting an answer, but the truth was tangled in a mess of revelations, lies, and long-buried grudges.
She didn't know.
She didn't know that she had killed the original Rinko Schnee.
The memory clawed at the edges of his mind, a dark reminder of how things had changed—how she had changed. How she had once been an enemy, a shadow lurking beneath the Schnee household with a quiet, deadly resolve.
She had been patient, methodical. Poison slipped into tea—elegant, precise, untraceable. A silent execution born from years of resentment, of hatred toward a family that had once embodied everything she despised. The Schnee name had meant greed, cruelty, and exploitation to her. And Rinko? He had been a target, just as much as Jacques had been.
Yet, that hatred had not lasted.
Through conflict and understanding, words and promises—through the man Jacques Schnee became rather than the one he once was—Selene had changed. She had abandoned her vendetta, learned to trust, and believed in the possibility of something better.
Throughout the months she spent more with Rinko and Jacques within the Manor after the Atlas-Hospital Incident, she became faithful to them—that they've changed.
And now?
Now she sat before him, unaware that the very crime she had committed was already done. Because the Rinko Schnee she had once sought vengeance against was long gone.
Unaware that her goal of killing one of them had succeeded—and Kakashi replaced him.
And the one sitting before her, the one she had sworn to serve, to protect now... wasn't truly him.
Everything was—and still is—so complicated.
Life itself brought so many complex scenarios.
And Rinko—Kakashi—could only sigh at the thought.
Rinko exhaled slowly, forcing himself to maintain his composure. "It's... a long story," he said finally, voice measured. "One that Weiss has already told the others."
He could see the way her eyes sharpened at that, calculating. She wasn't the type to accept half-answers.
"And what about me?" she asked. "Why am I only hearing this now?"
Her words were measured and controlled. They probed gently beneath the surface, searching for the truth that was being kept from her.
And Rinko... Rinko didn't know how to answer.
Because how do you tell someone that their hatred, their revenge, had already been fulfilled—and they didn't even know it?
That the person they had once despised was already gone, and the one before them was someone else entirely?
Rinko inhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe later, Selene." Rinko murmured. In reality, there was no easy way to say it. No perfect moment to reveal something so... twisted.
So, for now, he chose silence, not like it would matter. She will know too.
Selene studied him for a long moment, her gaze unwavering as if weighing the weight of his words. Then, with a slow nod, she dipped her head in acknowledgment.
"As you wish, Master Rinko," she murmured, her tone as composed as ever, though there was an unspoken understanding in her voice—a silent promise that she would remain vigilant, even in his absence.
Rinko barely had time to acknowledge her before he felt the firm yet reassuring weight of Ozpin's hand on his shoulder. The headmaster's expression was calm, but his eyes carried the wisdom of someone who had seen countless struggles, countless griefs, and the long, painful road to healing.
"Give Weiss time to grieve," Ozpin advised, his voice low yet steady. "Pain like this does not fade overnight, nor can it be rushed. She has lost something—someone—irreplaceable, and no words, no gestures, will take that pain away in an instant. Right now, what she needs most is space. Time to process, to understand the weight of it all. Pushing her too soon will only deepen the wounds."
Rinko exhaled quietly, his fingers unconsciously curling at his sides. He knew Ozpin was right—of course, he was right—but that didn't make it any easier. He hated seeing Weiss like this, withdrawn and hurting, and the knowledge that there was little he could do gnawed at him.
But even so... he would wait.
For as long as it took, he would be there.
Just then, Ozpin gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, his expression unreadable yet understanding.
"If you ever need guidance, you know where to find me," the headmaster said before turning toward the door. His cane tapped softly against the floor as he walked, each measured step fading into the distance. He left without another word, giving Rinko the space he needed to process his thoughts.
Rinko exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. His mind was a storm of emotions—concern for Weiss, frustration at his own helplessness, and a lingering exhaustion that weighed heavy on his shoulders.
Before he could dwell on it further, the door creaked open again.
"Rinko?"
He looked up just as Team JNPR entered the room.
Jaune led the way, his usual awkward energy subdued by something gentler, more cautious. He offered Rinko a small, uncertain smile as if testing the waters. Pyrrha followed beside him, her green eyes filled with quiet concern, scanning his face for any signs of distress. Ren and Nora came in last, the former offering a polite nod while the latter, for once, didn't bounce into the room with her usual energy.
There was an unspoken understanding in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the weight pressing down on all of them.
Jaune was the first to break it. "We just want to make sure you're okay," he said, his voice careful, measured.
Rinko offered a small, tired smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either.
Jaune didn't press further, but the way he studied Rinko suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.
They stepped further into the room, the atmosphere tense yet laced with familiarity. Then, after a brief pause, Nora finally spoke up.
"So... it's true?"
Rinko sighed. He already knew what she was referring to. There was no point in hiding it anymore.
"Yeah," he confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's true."
A weight settled in the room. Even after everything they had been through, saying it out loud still felt surreal.
Rinko turned slightly, catching Selene's gaze. As always, she remained composed, standing with perfect posture, her expression as impassive as ever. But there was a sharpness in her eyes, a quiet curiosity she rarely let show.
Rinko sighed. He turned to Team JNPR. "You know, Selene wasn't really updated with the things that happened."
Ren raised an eyebrow at Rinko. "You didn't tell her?"
"Well... it's complicated," Rinko admitted, rubbing his temple. He exhaled. "Honestly, I didn't know how to."
That was enough for Team JNPR to take over. One by one, they started filling in the gaps, their voices weaving together the story that had unraveled within the Nightmare.
They spoke of the strange, distorted world that had trapped them. Of the battles fought not just against foes, but against their own minds. And, finally, of the truth hidden beneath it all—
That within Rinko Schnee, there had never been a true Rinko Schnee.
Only Kakashi Hatake.
Selene remained silent throughout the explanation, absorbing every word without so much as a shift in her expression. But Rinko knew her well enough to recognize the subtle signs—her fingers twitching slightly at her sides, the way her gaze flickered to him ever so briefly.
Then, when the last words settled into silence, she finally spoke.
"I see."
The words were simple, yet they carried an undertone Rinko couldn't quite decipher.
He had expected confusion—perhaps even a flicker of hesitation. But Selene, as always, remained a fortress of unreadable emotions. Her face betrayed nothing, her posture impeccable, her presence unwavering. Yet something about her voice had shifted.
And Rinko wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
The conversation with Team JNPR continued for a little while longer—idle reassurances, light-hearted attempts to ease the heavy atmosphere. But eventually, they knew Rinko needed rest. With quiet well-wishes and lingering glances of concern, they took their leave, one by one, until only Rinko and Selene remained in the stillness of the hospital room.
A tense quiet settled between them.
Selene sat beside his bed, her back straight, hands resting lightly on her lap. She wasn't looking at him, her gaze instead fixed downward, as if searching for answers in the creases of her gloves.
Rinko, for his part, said nothing. He merely waited.
He knew Selene well enough to understand that she didn't need things spelled out for her. She was sharp—dangerously so. She had a mind built for strategy, for deception, for connecting fragments of information that others would overlook.
After all, she had once devised an entire assassination plot against him and his father.
And now, she was piecing together a different puzzle—one that involved a brother who had never truly been Weiss' brother at all.
At last, she turned to him, her gaze as cool and measured as ever.
"I get why you hesitated to tell me," she said, her voice steady, betraying no emotion.
Rinko met her stare, knowing there was no point in denying it.
"Yes," he nodded.
Selene studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The weight of realization settled over her like a slow-moving storm, dark and inevitable.
Then, ever so slightly, she exhaled.
"So I succeeded in killing you—no—the real Rinko Schnee?"
"It appears to be so," Rinko replied, his voice calm, yet carrying an unshakable finality.
Selene lowered her head, her fingers tightening against the fabric of her skirt. The implications of her past actions unraveled before her, each thread leading back to an undeniable truth—she had almost succeeded in killing the wrong man.
The Rinko Schnee she had loathed, the one she had planned to destroy, was already gone by the time she set her plan in motion.
The person who had stood in his place, the one she had so ruthlessly hunted, had never been the source of her suffering.
She had tried to kill a stranger.
A stranger who had never wronged her.
The weight of that realization was suffocating.
Her chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself lost in uncertainty. What did this mean? Could her past actions ever be justified, knowing that her vengeance had been misplaced? Was there even a difference between the old Rinko Schnee and the man before her now?
Her hands curled into fists against her lap, her posture still poised but betraying an unspoken turmoil.
Rinko remained quiet, watching her. He didn't press, didn't force her to speak. He merely waited, giving her the space to navigate the storm raging within her.
Minutes stretched on in silence.
Then, at last, Selene released a slow breath, steadying herself.
"Back in Atlas, it makes sense now—why your personality shifted so dramatically," she said at last, her voice measured, as if piecing the truth together aloud.
She thought back to that day—the moment everything changed. The poison, the cold, calculated plan she had orchestrated with such precision. And then, the unexpected. The man she had aimed to kill had reawakened, yet something about him was undeniably different.
"You began to exercise," she continued, her eyes narrowing in recollection. "Your voice became more collected, more composed. Your eyes... they weren't the same as before. Everything about you changed after you woke up that day."
Her words carried no accusation, only observation. She was analyzing him, as she always had—dissecting every shift, every inconsistency.
Rinko remained silent, unmoving. There was nothing to refute.
Selene exhaled softly, turning her gaze toward the window. The late afternoon light glinted off her glasses, obscuring her expression.
"And to know the original Rinko Schnee truly died back then..." She paused, her voice betraying the faintest hint of something deeper.
Then, with chilling finality, she said,
"Then that's good."
Rinko's eyes flickered, but he did not react.
Selene did not elaborate, nor did she need to. Whatever emotions lay behind her words—relief, satisfaction, or something else entirely—she kept them buried beneath her carefully composed mask.
The room felt colder at that moment.
Rinko studied her, weighing her words carefully. He could sense the finality in them, the way she had come to accept this truth with unnerving ease.
For her, it wasn't a tragedy. It was justice.
And yet, for all her cold pragmatism, Rinko couldn't ignore the way her hands remained clenched against her lap, her grip tightening as if trying to hold onto something unseen.
She was composed—always—but something about the way her fingers curled, pressing into the fabric of her skirt, spoke of emotions she wouldn't allow to surface.
Rinko understood Selene.
He understood the pain that had shaped her, the suffering that had carved her into the person she was now. He understood her hatred, her grief, and the cold resolve she clung to like armor.
But deep down, he also knew something else—Rinko Schnee had been misunderstood.
The boy she had once despised, the boy who had worn his family name like a shield, had lived and died without ever truly being seen. He wasn't a monster. Just a boy who had been caught in something far bigger than himself.
But Rinko didn't say any of this.
Because to Selene, it wouldn't matter.
Her judgment had already been made. The past was a closed chapter in her eyes.
And so, the silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them broke the stillness.
It was a strange sort of understanding that existed between them—one built not on forgiveness, but on acknowledgment.
Then, the door creaked open.
Breaking the silence.
Rinko turned his head just as familiar figures stepped into the room.
Team RWBY.
The air in the hospital room seemed to shift, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing in as the four girls approached. Ruby, Yang, and Blake were visibly relieved to see him awake, their smiles easing some of the tension lingering in the air. Weiss, too, was there—her presence steady but subdued, the usual sharpness in her gaze dulled by exhaustion.
They greeted him, Ruby's voice light with reassurance, Yang throwing in a few well-placed jokes to lift the mood. Blake, ever the quiet but thoughtful one, placed a book on the bedside table—a copy of Ninja of Love, Volume 11.
"Figured you might need something to pass the time," she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Try not to overanalyze the fight scenes."
Rinko huffed a small laugh, nodding. "No promises."
One by one, they said their goodbyes, filing out of the room. Weiss lingered behind, the last to leave. She gave him a small nod—acknowledgment, hesitation, something else he couldn't quite place—before turning toward the door.
"Wait."
The word left his lips before he could stop it.
Weiss froze mid-step, her posture straightening ever so slightly. Slowly, she turned back to face him, her expression unreadable.
Rinko hesitated.
How could he say that he had met the soul of the brother she had once known? That in the space between life and death, Rinko Schnee had spoken to him, not with hatred, but with love? That, despite everything—the resentment, the distance, the years of bitterness—her real brother never truly hated her?
He wanted to. He wanted to give her that closure, that piece of truth that might lighten the burden she carried.
But as he met her eyes, the words wouldn't come.
The weight of it all—of her grief, of the truth—was too much. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't ready to hear it just yet.
Rinko exhaled, shaking his head.
"...Nothing."
Weiss studied him for a long moment, something flickering behind her icy blue eyes. But she didn't press.
She let out a slow breath, then turned toward the door. "Get some rest, Kakashi."
And with that, she left, closing the door softly behind her.
Rinko let out a slow breath, sinking back into the hospital bed.
"Damn."
[End]