Rinko remained in the hospital for several days as the doctors conducted thorough examinations, searching for any lingering effects from his sudden collapse. Despite their best efforts, no physical abnormalities were found—no infections, no internal injuries, nothing to explain what had happened to him.
The only clue was what they already knew: the Nightmare Grimm had latched onto him during their time at Brunswick Farms, trapping him in a dreamscape until they defeated it.
The room was quiet except for the occasional beep of the heart monitor and the soft hum of the heater. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting golden light across the white sheets of Rinko's hospital bed.
Yang leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "So... How your time in the hospital so far? Enjoying the view?"
Rinko exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Yeah. Thought I'd take a short vacation."
"Oh? Must be nice." She chuckled, "Next time, send an invite. I could use a break, too."
Rinko hummed. "You'd get bored."
"Not if you're around to.. Yang-tertain me." She winked.
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head at the pun. "You're impossible."
"Yeah, but you like that about me." She plopped down in the chair beside him, leaning back with her legs stretched out. "You had me worried, y'know?"
He sighed, turning his head toward her. His silver hair, usually neatly kept, was messier than usual, strands falling into his tired blue eyes. "You didn't have to be."
Her expression flickered for just a second, then her smirk returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, too bad. Worrying about you is part of the girlfriend package."
He exhaled through his nose—half amused, half exasperated. "You should ask for a refund."
Yang rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Like I'd trade you in that easily."
Rinko chuckled at the banter, but the warmth in Yang's grip as she held his fingers didn't go unnoticed. There was a certain comfort in the way she touched him—like an unspoken promise that she was still here, still with him, despite everything.
She leaned in slightly, her golden eyes glinting with curiosity. "So... what was it like? When you were Kakashi?"
Rinko turned to her, arching a brow. He didn't answer immediately, letting the question linger between them. "Curious now?" he smirked.
"Well, duh!" She huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, I wasn't expecting my boyfriend to turn out to be some legendary warrior as old as Uncle Qrow. Okay, now that I said it out loud, it does sound weird."
Rinko and Yang locked eyes for a second before both of them burst into laughter.
"You make it sound like I was some kind of ancient relic," Rinko said, shaking his head.
Yang wiggled her fingers dramatically. "Ooooh, spooky past lives and tragic memories~" she teased. "Seriously, though, I do wanna know. What was it like?"
Rinko exhaled, leaning back against the pillows. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before speaking. "It was... somewhat different. I had people I cared about, people I fought for. And I lost a lot, too."
Yang's playful expression faded into something more thoughtful. "Sounds lonely."
He tilted his head, studying her. "Yeah. It was."
Yang's fingers squeezed his, grounding him. "But you're not alone now."
Rinko let that sink in, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No. I guess I'm not."
She grinned. "Damn right you're not. Because if you ever start brooding too hard, I'll just annoy you until you snap out of it."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "That sounds like something you'd do."
"Exactly." Yang smirked, giving his hand another squeeze. "Now, tell me more! That can't be the only thing, right? I wanna know more about my snowflake!"
Rinko hummed, tilting his head as he studied her. "Oh? Your snowflake? That's a new one." he gestured to the nickname, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Yang rolled her eyes but grinned. "Duh. I did just say that, didn't I?" She poked his chest playfully. "Now spill. What was Kakashi like? What were you like? Were you always this much of a smartass, or did that come with the reincarnation package?"
Rinko chuckled, his gaze softening as he thought back. "Well... I guess I was always a little bit like this. Maybe less teasing, though. I had to be serious most of the time. A lot of responsibilities. A lot of expectations."
Yang leaned in, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Mmm. Sounds kinda like Weiss," she mused.
He let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I guess. Though I think I smiled less than she does now. And trust me, that's saying something."
Yang snorted. "Oh, I wish I could've seen that. Mr. Stoic and Broody, huh?"
Rinko raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I had my moments."
"Oh? Do tell."
He glanced at her, taking in the warmth of her golden eyes, the way she was looking at him—not just with curiosity, but with genuine interest, like she wanted to know everything about him, the good and the bad.
Rinko exhaled softly. "I used to have a team. Three of us—four, if you count our sensei. We were young, but war doesn't wait for kids to grow up." His voice dipped slightly, the weight of old memories settling in. "I was... different back then. Strong, sure, but I thought strength alone was enough to protect the people I cared about."
Yang didn't interrupt, just kept holding onto him, grounding him.
He let out a small breath and shook his head. "I lost them. Both my friends and my sensei."
Yang's grip on his hand tightened slightly, her warmth seeping into his skin. She didn't say anything right away, just shifted closer, leaning into him, offering comfort without words.
"The Hokage guy from your nightmare, right?" she asked after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "He mentioned you were his student."
Rinko nodded. "Yeah, him. His name was Minato Namikaze." His gaze drifted toward the horizon, as if he could still see the past playing out in the distance. "He taught me a lot when I was young. How to fight, how to lead, how to think ahead... but most importantly, he taught me how to care. To protect the people who mattered."
Yang listened intently, the usual teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something softer, more attentive.
"It was unfortunate, though," Rinko continued, his voice quieter now. "He died too early in his time as Hokage. He barely had a chance to lead before he sacrificed himself for the village."
Yang frowned slightly. "What happened?"
Rinko exhaled. "A giant fox attacked the village. Not just any fox, though—this thing was a force of nature. A beast so powerful it could level entire cities within seconds." His fingers curled slightly in his lap. "Minato and his wife fought to stop it. And in the end, they gave their lives to seal it away."
Yang's eyes widened. "That strong, huh?"
"Yeah," Rinko murmured. "A different time, indeed."
He turned his palm upward, staring at it as if he could still feel the weight of the past pressing down on him.
Yang followed his gaze, watching him in the dim light. He looked distant—lost in a world she could never fully step into, but one she could at least try to understand.
She reached out, gently resting her hand over his. "You miss him," she said, not as a question, but as a quiet truth.
Rinko gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I do. Not only him.. but everyone."
A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words. Then, after a moment, Yang grinned and squeezed his hand.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you turned out pretty damn great."
Rinko blinked, caught off guard, before a small chuckle escaped him. "Oh? Do I now?"
"Yup," Yang said, leaning in with a playful smirk. "Smart, strong, kinda broody but in a hot way—total package, really."
Rinko shook his head, amused. "Glad to know my brooding is attractive."
"Oh, absolutely." Yang nudged him. "Besides, I know Minato would've been proud of you."
Rinko hesitated, his smirk faltering just a bit. The weight of those words settled in his chest, but instead of feeling heavy, they were... warm.
"...Yeah," he said, voice softer now. "Maybe he would have."
Yang smiled, tilting her head at him. "No 'maybe' about it, mystery man."
He glanced at her, and for once, he didn't try to argue. Instead, he turned his hand over, intertwining their fingers, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. There was something grounding about her warmth, about the way she was always so effortlessly herself—bold, bright, and unshakable.
And this time, he let himself just be—here, in this moment, with her.
Their eyes locked, and Yang's smirk softened into something more tender. She didn't need to say anything; the way she looked at him said enough. A quiet understanding, a silent reassurance.
She leaned in, her golden hair catching the faintest glimmer of light, cascading like liquid fire.
Rinko mirrored her, his breath steady yet shallow as the distance between them vanished, inch by inch.
There was no hesitation when their lips met.
The kiss was slow at first—gentle, lingering, as if both of them wanted to memorize the feeling. But then, Yang pressed in a little more, her fingers tightening around his. Rinko responded in kind, his free hand moving up to cradle her cheek, his thumb tracing over her skin.
The warmth of her lips, the way she sighed softly against him—it sent a shiver down his spine, a heat that coiled deep in his chest. She tasted like honey and adrenaline, fierce and intoxicating all at once.
Yang smiled into the kiss before pulling back just enough for their foreheads to touch. "Not bad," she murmured, her voice laced with playful mischief. "You're becoming a better kisser, maybe we should do it more often." She winked.
Rinko chuckled, his breath still mingling with hers. "Guess I picked up a thing or two."
"Oh?" Yang arched a brow, her smirk returning. "You better not say experience from another life, or I'm gonna start questioning things."
Rinko shook his head, laughing softly. "Nah, no past-life experience this time. Just... natural talent, I suppose."
Yang hummed, clearly pleased with the answer, as she traced a lazy pattern over the back of his hand with her fingers. "Lucky me, then."
A comfortable silence settled between them again, though now, it was charged with something deeper—something unspoken yet completely understood.
He exhaled softly, his grip on her hand tightening just a little. "Thank you, Yang," he murmured, his voice quieter than before but filled with sincerity. "That made me feel so much better."
Yang's expression softened, her amethyst eyes studying him closely. She didn't need to ask what he meant—she already knew. The weight of old memories, the ghosts of the past that had clung to him for so long.
"You don't have to thank me, dummy." She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, her usual playfulness slipping back in, though there was a gentle undertone to it. "That's what girlfriends are for."
Rinko chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is." Yang squeezed his hand before resting her head against his shoulder. "It doesn't matter if you're a guy from a different place or how many lifetimes of baggage you're carrying. Right now, you're Rinko Schnee, my dorky, brooding, kinda mysterious snowflake."
She turned her head slightly, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. "And lucky for you, I happen to like this version of you a lot."
Rinko felt something warm bloom in his chest, something that had nothing to do with Aura or Semblances. It was just her—Yang, with her fierce spirit and unwavering loyalty, grounding him here and now.
He tilted his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her golden locks. "I think I like this version of me too."
Yang chuckled. "Good. Because I'd hate to have to knock some sense into you otherwise."
Rinko smirked. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Yang grinned. "Damn right."
Argus Bay
The sun bled into the horizon, casting long shadows across the docks. The waves lapped at the shore, their rhythmic crashes the only sound filling the silence. Weiss Schnee stood near the edge of the wooden pier, her gaze locked onto the endless expanse of the sea. A briefcase of dust hung at her side, gripped so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Myrtenaster rested against her hip, a silent companion in the stillness.
From a distance, Ruby Rose and Blake Belladonna watched her. Neither spoke at first, but Ruby's worried expression deepened as the minutes passed.
"Maybe we should talk to her," she finally murmured.
Blake glanced at Weiss, then shook her head. "No, let's give her space. It's what she needs."
Ruby shifted uneasily. "It's just... she left her post early today. She hasn't been acting like herself since the conscription started." Her voice dropped slightly. "And since Rinko..."
Blake didn't answer. She simply followed Ruby's gaze back to Weiss, watching as their friend remained perfectly still, caught between thought and memory.
Then, from the corner of her eye, Blake noticed movement.
A lone figure approached the docks, her stride slow yet deliberate. The crisp, precise uniform. The unshaken composure. The ever-present umbrella at her side.
Selene.
Blake tensed slightly. "Ruby," she muttered, nodding toward the approaching maid.
Ruby's head snapped toward her, then followed Blake's gaze. Her brows furrowed.
"Selene?" she whispered, confused. "What is she doing here?"
Neither girl moved. They simply watched as Selene continued forward, silent as a ghost, her presence both deliberate and unreadable.
Weiss had noticed her, too. She had heard the footsteps approaching long before Selene stopped just behind her.
She didn't turn around. Not immediately.
"Miss Weiss," Selene's calm voice broke the silence. "You called?"
Weiss exhaled slowly, her grip tightening around the briefcase handle. Her eyes remained fixed on the water, though her thoughts were far from the ocean.
She let the silence stretch.
"Something bothering you, Miss Weiss?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.
She shifted the briefcase slightly, as though testing its weight. "Do you have anything to do with it?"
Selene tilted her head slightly. "With what, Miss Weiss?"
Weiss finally turned, her gaze sharp.
"About Rinko Schnee's death."
The words were spoken clearly, but there was something simmering beneath them—a quiet accusation. It wasn't hard for Weiss to put all the pieces together since Selene had a history of attempting to murder Kakashi back at Atlas.
Selene didn't react.
She remained composed, her expression unreadable, as if she were merely listening to another routine request.
Weiss narrowed her eyes.
"Answer me." Her words cut through the air like a blade, but Selene did not flinch. She did not blink.
Weiss searched her face for anything—guilt, hesitation, a flicker of something.
She found nothing.
Selene merely stood there, unmoving, unreadable as ever.
The sea continued to whisper between them, waves crashing against the shore like distant echoes of a storm. The salt-tinged wind ruffled Weiss' hair, but her focus was locked solely on the woman standing before her.
Then, Selene spoke.
"Yes," she said simply, her tone as steady as the tide. "I had something to do with his death."
Weiss flinched.
Something cold gripped her chest, something that made her breath hitch for the briefest second. Then, her fingers slackened—just for a moment.
The briefcase fell.
The world seemed to slow as it tumbled open midair, vials of refined dust glinting in the dying sunlight. But Weiss had already moved to reload her rapier.
In a blur of motion, she twisted Myrtenaster's chamber and swung the empty chamber to the vials mid-air, snapping a fresh round of dust into place. Her gaze hardened before she was upon Selene.
Weiss appeared in front of Selene, the rapier's tip pressing against the maid's throat.
A cold wind surged around them as Weiss' glyphs flared to life, a brilliant array of icy blue, silver, and deep crimson forming intricate patterns in the air. The dust within them crackled with power, swirling like a miniature storm, each one trained upon Selene like loaded weapons.
Then—clack.
The briefcase struck the ground, and time seemed to go back to normal.
The sound was dull, barely registering past the ringing silence between them.
Ruby & Blake, who were watching from the distance, widened their eyes in shock. They weren't expecting this turn of events.
Wind rushed past Selene's face, tousling stray strands of her dark hair. Yet, even with Weiss so close—too close—and death quite literally at her throat, she did not react.
She did not flinch.
She did not blink.
She simply stared.
Her deep, unreadable gaze met Weiss' furious glare, the faintest reflection of Myrtenaster's steel dancing in her blue pupils.
Weiss' grip on her rapier tightened, her knuckles turning white. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the crashing waves and distant voices.
"Give me one reason," she hissed, voice laced with cold fury, "for not driving this rapier through your throat right now."
Her words carried the weight of months—months—of betrayal, of doubt, of anger buried beneath forced civility. The pain of knowing that the same woman who once swore loyalty to her family had also tried to kill her brother.
And now, she had just admitted this.
Selene did not move.
Not even as the sharp edge of Myrtenaster pricked against her skin, not even as the glyphs around her hummed with dangerous energy, waiting for Weiss' command.
She simply stood there, calm as ever, her eyes locked onto Weiss' own.
And then, finally, she spoke.
Her voice was quiet.
"I do not have regret for what I did."
Weiss' breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled slightly against Myrtenaster's hilt.
Did she hear that right?
"What?"
There was no hesitation in Selene's posture. Even with death at her throat, she stood composed, as if the moment carried no weight. The wind brushed through her dark hair, strands shifting in the evening breeze, but her gaze was cold. Unshaken.
"That version of Rinko would have grown up like a devil," she said evenly. "Jacques had already passed his old teachings to Rinko Schnee, and I would not let a person like him have too much power over people."
The words struck Weiss like a slap, knocking the breath from her lungs.
She opened her mouth to refute it, to throw back her anger, but Selene continued.
"Do you have any idea what your father did to me? To my family?"
Weiss stiffened as Selene slowly reached up and pulled down the maid headband that had always rested neatly upon her head.
Weiss saw it clearly.
She had always known she was a Faunus right after the Atlas Hospital Incident. She had seen it more clearly back at Mistral when they stayed at Maria Calavera's house for Ruby's training, but she had no idea what the story behind them.
Her left horn—jagged and broken, a violent reminder of something torn away from her. Her right horn—completely severed, leaving only a scarred remnant of what once was.
"These horns—your company did this," Selene said, her voice even, yet laced with something deeper—something raw. "Your father, the old, cruel, and cold version of Jacques, did this."
Weiss' stomach twisted at the sight.
"He let my parents die for a simple cash grab."
Selene's hand lowered from her headband, but the weight of her words remained.
"His men cut my horns to sell to the black market. Do you understand, Miss Weiss? They hunted us, played us like animals—toys—because they could profit from our suffering. And that man—Jacques—he passed his legacy onto his son."
Her eyes met Weiss', cold as steel.
"The same beliefs. The same future."
Weiss' jaw clenched. Her grip on Myrtenaster wavered for only a moment before she forced herself to stay firm.
"Nonsense!" she snapped. "You saw Jacques change! You know he did! If he could change, then Rinko would have too!"
Selene didn't flinch, nor did she look the least bit convinced.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if looking at Weiss with something bordering on pity.
"Really?" she murmured.
The wind howled around them.
"You and I know it was all thanks to this new Rinko. Kakashi, was it? That was his name."
Weiss' pulse quickened, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
"Without him, Jacques would have remained the same man. He would have continued living in his evil ways, and Rinko would have followed his footsteps."
Weiss took a step forward, her rapier pressing just a fraction closer to Selene's throat.
"You—" Her voice wavered, breath shaky. "You're wrong."
Selene's expression remained unreadable, but her lips parted ever so slightly.
"Am I?"
Weiss' throat felt dry. Her heart thundered in her chest.
It should have been easy to deny. To strike down the very notion with unwavering conviction.
But Weiss couldn't. For the first time in a long while, she didn't know what to do.
Her fingers trembled against Myrtenaster's hilt, and though her blade remained poised just a fraction from Selene's throat, she felt something creeping into her resolve. A hesitation she despised. A doubt she refused to acknowledge.
And then, for the first time, she heard it.
The waves.
Rolling, endless, unrelenting.
They crashed against the shore beneath them, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to fill the silence between them, as if the world itself had stepped in to speak where Weiss no longer could.
She exhaled shakily.
Then, without another word, she lowered her blade.
The glyphs around Selene—aiming for her—slowly vanished
Selene didn't react. She didn't flinch, didn't so much as blink at the motion. She merely watched, calm and unreadable, as though she had expected this outcome from the very beginning.
Slowly, methodically, she reached up, retrieving the maid headband from where it had rested in her palm. With quiet reverence, she placed it back on her head, adjusting it with the same careful precision she applied to all things. The small gesture felt final, as though she were restoring a part of herself that had briefly slipped away.
Weiss watched, her chest tightening. The movement was oddly grounding, though it did nothing to settle the storm raging inside her.
Then Selene spoke, her voice softer than before—but no less certain.
"I'll give you the space you need, Miss Weiss."
She stepped past her with quiet purpose, pausing only to retrieve the fallen briefcase before continuing down the path back to Saphron's house. Her footsteps were steady and deliberate, but something was unspoken in the air between them—something left unresolved, hanging like a weight neither of them could yet lift.
Weiss stood motionless, staring at the ground aimlessly, as if searching for an answer she knew she wouldn't find.
The wind carried the scent of salt and the distant cries of seabirds. Slowly, she turned, lifting her gaze to the vast ocean ahead. The waves stretched endlessly before her, rolling in and out, steady and unrelenting.
A shiver ran through her, but it wasn't from the cold.
Taking a slow breath, she carefully sheathed Myrtenaster at her waist, then crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to hold in the warmth she so desperately needed.
But no matter how tightly she held herself, she still felt unbearably cold.
The silence stretched, filled only by the rhythmic crash of waves and the distant whisper of the wind. The sky, now painted in the fading hues of twilight, felt as vast and empty as the uncertainty weighing on her chest.
Then—footsteps.
Soft but deliberate, approaching from behind.
"Hey, Weiss..."
Her breath hitched.
She turned at the familiar voice, blinking against the blurriness clouding her vision.
Ruby stood there, hesitation flickering across her face, concern deep in her silver eyes. Beside her, Blake watched with quiet understanding, her expression softer than Weiss had seen in a long time.
Neither of them spoke right away. They didn't need to.
Because even if Weiss hadn't realized it, her shoulders were trembling. Silent tears traced paths down her cheeks, warm against the cold of the evening air. She hadn't even noticed she was crying.
Ruby's lips parted, as if searching for words—but instead, she simply stepped forward. No questions. No judgment.
Just presence.
Blake followed, closing the space between them with quiet certainty.
And then, without hesitation, they wrapped their arms around her.
Weiss stiffened for a moment, instinctively trying to hold herself together, but the warmth surrounding her was undeniable. It broke past the defenses she hadn't even realized she was still holding up.
So she let go.
A quiet, shuddering breath escaped her as she leaned into them, allowing herself to be held.
Neither Ruby nor Blake spoke. They didn't tell her to stop crying, didn't ask her to explain, didn't try to fix something that couldn't be fixed in a single night.
They just stayed.
And in that moment, that was enough.
[End]
Hey, tell me your thoughts! Thanks for reading!