RWUBY
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Naruto x Pairing
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Story Start
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The grandfather clock in the hallway tolled midnight, each hollow chime echoing through the empty corridors of the Schnee mansion like a ghostly reminder of time's relentless march. Weiss Schnee didn't need to count the strikes—she'd been watching the hands crawl toward twelve for the past hour, curled up on her favorite chaise lounge, a piece of furniture more expensive than most people's cars but tonight offering little comfort.
Her private suite, perched at the very top of the mansion like a bird's gilded cage, felt especially hollow tonight. The silk curtains stirred in a draft, and outside, Atlas sprawled beneath her window—a glittering tapestry of lights and shadows that seemed to mock her solitude. The city's glow painted the falling snow in shades of gold and blue, each flake catching the light like a falling star before joining its brethren on her windowsill.
"Naruto," she whispered to the glass, watching her breath create a small cloud of fog. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered, just as it had for the past three weeks. His absence felt like a physical thing—a weight pressing against her chest, making each breath a conscious effort. Mere weeks ago, he'd been here, challenging her assumptions, pushing her limits, showing her a world beyond the sterile perfection of the Schnee legacy. Now the silence where his laughter should be felt deafening.
A knock at her door startled her from her reverie—three gentle taps, precise and familiar. Only Klein would dare disturb her at this hour, and only Klein would know exactly how to do it without earning her ire. Weiss straightened, muscle memory from years of etiquette training taking over as she smoothed her nightgown and squared her shoulders.
"Come in," she called softly, her voice barely carrying across the room.
The door opened with a whisper of well-oiled hinges, revealing Klein's stocky figure. The family butler's face, usually a canvas of cheerful expressions, wore the concerned frown he'd adopted since Naruto's disappearance. Moonlight caught the silver in his hair, making him look older than his years.
"My lady," he began, his voice gentle as he stepped into the room, "I know the hour is quite inappropriate, but I couldn't help but notice your light..." He trailed off, leaving the real reason for his visit unspoken but understood.
Weiss attempted a smile, though it felt brittle on her face. "I'm fine, Klein," she lied, turning back to the window. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and ethereal against the dark glass. "Just thinking."
Klein's footsteps were soft on the plush carpet as he approached. In the window's reflection, she watched his eyes shift colors—a unique trait that had fascinated her since childhood. "No word from our... energetic friend, I take it?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
The question made her shoulders tense. "None." She forced steel into her voice, refusing to let it waver. "Though I'm certain he has his reasons." The words tasted bitter, rehearsed from countless repetitions to herself.
Klein's hand found her shoulder, warm and steadying. "Miss Schnee—Weiss," he said, dropping formality for a moment of genuine connection, "I've served this family long enough to know that the most important journeys rarely follow straight paths. If young master Naruto touched your life as deeply as I observed, perhaps fate isn't finished with your story yet."
Something hot and urgent pressed behind her eyes, but Weiss refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she covered Klein's hand with her own, drawing strength from the contact. "Thank you, Klein."
After he left, Weiss remained at the window, but something had shifted inside her. The ache of Naruto's absence remained, but it was transforming into something else—something harder, more purposeful. If he had taught her anything, it was that strength came from within, not from names or titles.
That night, as Atlas slept beneath its blanket of eternal snow, Weiss Schnee made a promise to herself. She would forge herself into something new—not just an heiress, not just a huntress, but a force that even her father would have to reckon with. She would make herself strong enough that next time—if there was a next time—she wouldn't be left behind.
Dawn found her in the mansion's private training hall, Myrtenaster singing through the air as she practiced her forms. The first rays of sunlight caught the blade's edge, throwing rainbow refractions across the walls. Each thrust, each parry, each graceful step carried the weight of her resolution.
When she finally appeared at breakfast, Jacques Schnee looked up from his morning papers with thinly veiled disapproval. His coffee cup clinked against its saucer—a sound that once made her flinch but now barely registered.
"You're up early again, Weiss," he observed, his voice arctic. "These morning... activities of yours are becoming quite the habit. I trust you haven't forgotten about your afternoon meeting with Professor Harvest? The charity gala presentation requires your full attention."
Weiss met his gaze steadily, noting how his eyes—so like her own—seemed to contain none of the warmth that made Klein's many-colored ones so kind. "My training won't interfere with any of my duties, Father," she replied, her tone matching his in its coolness. "In fact, I've already prepared my initial notes for the presentation."
Jacques' fingers drummed once on the table—a tell she'd learned to recognize as frustration. "The Schnee Dust Company requires more than just combat prowess, Weiss. Your grandfather may have built this empire with dust and determination, but maintaining it requires... finesse."
"Grandfather built this company by being both a warrior and a businessman," Weiss countered, rising from her barely-touched breakfast. "He understood that true strength means protecting what matters—not just profits, but people."
She left before he could respond, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. As she passed the portrait of Nicholas Schnee in the main hall, she paused, studying the face of the man who had started it all. His eyes, even in paint, seemed to hold the same fire she felt building in her chest.
"I'll make this mean something again," she promised him quietly. "Something more than just money and power. Something worth fighting for."
Behind her, Atlas continued to snow, and somewhere out there, Naruto was fighting his own battles. But for now, Weiss had found her path—and she would walk it with her head held high, no matter how lonely the journey might be.
The charity concert loomed like a storm on Weiss's horizon—another carefully orchestrated performance meant to showcase the benevolent face of the Schnee Dust Company. But this time felt different. Her eighteenth birthday had arrived, and with it, Jacques' expectations had crystallized into something harder, more demanding. She was no longer just his daughter; she was becoming a living advertisement for the Schnee brand.
In the mansion's grand music hall, where afternoon light painted stripes across the marble floor, Weiss sat at the gleaming white piano. Her fingers ghosted over the keys, not quite touching them, as she let her voice carry the melody she'd written years ago—back when she was just beginning to understand the weight of her family name.
"Mirror, tell me something," she sang softly, each word carrying years of unspoken loneliness. The sound bounced off the vaulted ceiling, echoing back to her like a chorus of her own doubts. She thought of Naruto then, how he'd listened to her practice one evening, sprawled carelessly in a velvet armchair worth more than most people's monthly salary.
"Your voice tells the truth even when you're trying to hide it," he'd said, grinning that impossible grin of his. "That's what makes it beautiful."
Now, alone in the vast hall, she forced herself to continue despite the tightness in her throat. Each note felt like a confession, each verse a step toward something she couldn't quite name. Strength, maybe. Or freedom.
The night of the concert arrived with all the grandeur the Schnee name commanded. The Atlas Grand Hall blazed with crystal chandeliers, each facet throwing light across a sea of Atlas's elite. Military officers in pressed uniforms mingled with corporate titans in tailored suits, while society ladies dripped with jewelry that cost more than some villages' yearly income.
Weiss stood backstage, wrapped in a dress that seemed spun from moonlight itself. Her hands, hidden in the folds of silk, curled into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms. Through a gap in the curtain, she could see Jacques in his private box, perfectly positioned to evaluate every aspect of her performance.
The stage lights blazed to life, and Weiss stepped forward. The accompanying orchestra began the opening notes, but she barely heard them. In that moment, standing before hundreds of Atlas's most influential citizens, she made a decision. This wouldn't be another perfect, porcelain performance. Instead, she would sing her truth.
"Mirror, tell me something," she began, and for the first time in years, she let real emotion color her voice. "Who's the loneliest of all?"
The words soared into the rafters, carrying with them every sleepless night, every silent tear, every moment she'd felt trapped in her father's carefully constructed world. She thought of Naruto's absence, of the empty space where his encouragement should be, and instead of hiding from the pain, she wove it into the melody.
The audience leaned forward in their seats, caught off guard by the raw honesty in her voice. Even the journalists, usually busy scribbling notes about her appearance or deportment, stood transfixed. This wasn't the perfectly polished Schnee heiress they'd come to expect. This was something else entirely—something real.
As the final note faded, silence held the hall in its grip for one breathless moment. Then the applause crashed over her like a wave, thunderous and genuine. Through tears she refused to let fall, Weiss saw Jacques clapping with measured approval, his face a mask of calculated pleasure. But for once, his opinion wasn't what mattered.
The days that followed brought a flood of press coverage. "Schnee Heiress Delivers Stunning, Emotional Performance," the headlines declared. "A New Side of the Ice Princess," others proclaimed. But while Atlas buzzed with talk of her musical triumph, Weiss threw herself into a different kind of performance altogether.
She transformed the mansion's training room into her second home. Hours before dawn, when even the security staff dozed at their posts, the sharp ring of Myrtenaster against training drones echoed through the halls. Each thrust, each parry, each glyph summoned was a step toward something greater than the gilded cage of her father's expectations.
When Jacques finally summoned her to his study—that imposing shrine to Schnee accomplishments—Weiss knew the confrontation had been inevitable. The room smelled of leather-bound books and power, with hunting trophies staring down from the walls like silent judges.
"Your performance was... memorable," Jacques began, shuffling papers on his mahogany desk without looking up. "Though perhaps a touch too emotional for my taste."
Weiss stood straight-backed before him, Myrtenaster a comforting weight at her hip. "I sang what I felt was true."
"Truth?" He looked up then, his eyes as cold as Atlas winter. "The truth is, you've been distracted. These combat training sessions, these inquiries about huntsman academies—Beacon, specifically." His voice hardened on the school's name. "What exactly are you planning, Weiss?"
The moment stretched between them like a drawn blade. Weiss thought of Naruto again, of his unwavering belief in following one's own path. She thought of her grandfather Nicholas, who had built an empire not through boardroom dealings but through courage and conviction.
"I'm going to become a huntress," she said, the words ringing with quiet certainty. "Not just a symbol or a spokesperson—someone who can actually protect people."
Jacques' laugh could have frozen running water. "Absolutely not. The Schnee Dust Company needs an heiress, not some wandering warrior playing at heroics."
"The company needs someone who understands what it means to truly lead," Weiss countered, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Grandfather knew that. He didn't just sit in an office—he went out into the world and made a difference."
"Your grandfather's methods are outdated," Jacques snapped, rising from his chair. "This discussion is finished. You will focus on your proper duties, and—"
"I've already applied to Beacon," Weiss cut in, watching his face pale with satisfaction. "And when I'm accepted, I'm going. This isn't a request, Father. It's a declaration."
She turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor like a countdown. Behind her, Jacques called her name with rising anger, but she didn't look back. For the first time since Naruto's departure, she felt truly, perfectly certain of her path.
In the entrance hall, she passed the portrait of Nicholas Schnee, her grandfather's eyes seeming to twinkle with approval. "I'll make things right," she whispered to the painting. "I'll make our name mean something more than profit margins and board meetings."
Outside, Atlas continued its eternal winter, snow falling like stars against the dark sky. Somewhere out there, Naruto was fighting his own battles, following his own path. And now, finally, Weiss was ready to follow hers.
"I will not fail." The words escaped through gritted teeth as Weiss faced down the towering knight, her reflection fragmenting across its polished armor. "Not this time."
The knight's response came in a hurricane of rotating blades, spraying from its shield like deadly confetti. Weiss's hand shot up, a massive snowflake-shaped glyph materializing before her. The projectiles froze mid-flight, crystallizing into deadly ice sculptures before shattering into diamond dust.
She didn't wait for the fragments to settle. Myrtenaster's chamber spun with a metallic click, and she launched herself forward, rapier blazing. The blade sang against the knight's armor, each precise thrust finding gaps between plates, each strike calculated to wear down its defenses. This wasn't just combat—it was a dance she'd rehearsed a thousand times in her mind.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Her lungs burned with each breath, and her muscles screamed in protest, but she refused to yield. This was more than a test—it was a declaration of independence.
Glyphs bloomed beneath her feet like ghostly flowers, launching her around the arena in dizzying arcs. She became a white blur, striking from impossible angles, never staying still long enough to become a target. The knight's massive sword carved through air where she'd been milliseconds before, always a heartbeat too slow.
"Come on," she whispered, feeling her aura flicker dangerously. One final push. That's all she needed.
A massive glyph materialized overhead, its intricate patterns casting eerie shadows across the arena. Weiss launched herself skyward, time seeming to slow as she reached the apex of her jump. Below, the knight raised its sword in desperate defense, but she had already calculated the perfect angle of attack.
Myrtenaster's tip found the precise weak point in the knight's armor—a gap no wider than her finger. Lightning Dust ignited in the chamber, and raw energy coursed down the blade. The world exploded in white.
BOOM.
The knight disintegrated into digital particles, scattering like snow in a storm. Weiss dropped to one knee, chest heaving, rapier point pressed against the ground for support. Her reflection in the polished floor showed a girl she barely recognized—fierce, determined, free.
"Simulation complete. User victory."
The sterile announcement echoed through the chamber, but Weiss barely heard it over the sound of her own heartbeat. Tears pricked at her eyes—not from pain or exhaustion, but from a profound sense of vindication. She had done more than win. She had proven something to herself.
When she finally stood and made her way to the exit, she found a small crowd of Atlas technicians and a single SDC executive waiting. Their faces showed a mix of disbelief and unease. None of them had expected Jacques Schnee's "delicate" daughter to demolish their top-tier combat simulation.
"Well," the executive coughed, shuffling his papers. "That was... unexpected."
Weiss lifted her chin, meeting their stares with ice-blue eyes that had seen too much to care about their approval. "Was there ever any doubt?"
She strode past them, head high, Myrtenaster still humming faintly at her side. In her mind, she could almost hear Naruto's laugh of approval. The thought brought a small smile to her lips.
"You wanted me to fail, Father," she whispered to herself as she walked the empty corridor. "But I'm done living down to your expectations."
The following weeks passed in a blur of preparation and quiet defiance. While Jacques fumed and plotted, Weiss immersed herself in huntsman lore, devouring accounts of legendary teams and their exploits. The tales of Team STRQ particularly captured her imagination—their triumphs, their tragedies, the way they had changed Vale forever. Late at night, surrounded by books and scrolls, she wondered if she too would leave such a mark on history.
Her mother remained a ghost in the mansion's halls, appearing only in the clink of ice against crystal in distant rooms. Sometimes, Weiss would hear footsteps pause outside her door, as though Willow wanted to bridge the gulf between them, but the moment always passed in silence. It hurt, but Weiss had learned to carry that pain like armor.
When the letter from Beacon finally arrived, its wax seal bearing the crossed axes of the academy, Weiss's hands trembled slightly as she opened it. The words inside changed everything:
"Miss Weiss Schnee,
We are pleased to inform you that your application to Beacon Academy has been accepted..."
She read the letter three times, letting each word sink in. This wasn't just an acceptance—it was a key to her cage, forged by her own determination.
The next morning, she stood in Jacques's study, watching his face harden as she delivered the news. The room felt colder than usual, trophy heads on the walls watching their confrontation with glass eyes.
"So," he said, each word sharp as ice, "you're truly abandoning your responsibilities here."
Weiss met his gaze steadily. "I'm not abandoning anything. I'm choosing to serve the Schnee name in a way that actually matters."
"Then go." He turned away, dismissal clear in every line of his body. "But don't expect the SDC's resources to follow you on this foolish crusade."
"Keep them," she replied, voice steady despite the anger churning in her chest. "I'll succeed on my own terms."
On her final night in Atlas, snow fell in lazy spirals from a sky the color of old bruises. Weiss stood in the courtyard where she had spent countless hours training with Naruto, Myrtenaster a comfortable weight at her hip. Her new traveling outfit—white jacket with fur trim, combat skirt ready for battle—felt like armor against the future.
"I wish you could see me now," she whispered to the empty air where Naruto used to stand. "I'm not the same girl you left behind."
"No, you're not."
Winter's voice startled her. Her sister emerged from the shadows, military coat dusted with snow, a rare smile softening her features.
"Father's beside himself," Winter noted, coming to stand beside her. "I haven't seen him this angry since I joined the military."
Weiss allowed herself a small smirk. "Good."
"You've grown stronger, little sister." Winter's hand found her shoulder, warm through the fabric. "But remember—true strength isn't just about winning fights. It's about knowing what you're fighting for."
They embraced briefly, an unusual display of affection between Schnee sisters. When they parted, Weiss saw something like pride in Winter's eyes.
"Safe travels," Winter said softly. "Show them what a Schnee can really be."
Weiss nodded, throat tight with emotion. Tomorrow, she would board an airship bound for Vale, leaving behind everything she'd ever known. She was terrified and exhilarated in equal measure, but one thing was certain: there was no going back.
And somehow, that felt exactly right.
Dawn painted Atlas in shades of rose and gold, as if the city itself was blushing at Weiss's departure. The SDC transport—her father's final, reluctant courtesy—hummed beneath her feet as it carried her toward the airship docks. She kept Myrtenaster close, the weapon's familiar weight more comforting than any farewell speech could have been.
Her luggage was modest: one trunk of carefully chosen clothes and essentials. A Schnee traveling light—the irony wasn't lost on her. But then, she wasn't just a Schnee anymore. She was becoming something else entirely.
"Miss Schnee." Klein's voice cracked as he appeared at her side, eyes shifting through their rainbow of colors. He pressed a hamper into her hands, still warm from the kitchen. "Your favorites. The cranberry scones, and those little chocolate things you pretend not to love."
Weiss's throat tightened. "Klein, I—"
"Now, now." He straightened his vest, trying to maintain his butler's composure even as his eyes betrayed him. "You'll make me emotional, and that would be most unprofessional."
She hugged him then, protocol be damned. This man had been more of a father to her than Jacques ever was. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
Inside the waiting lounge, Atlas's next generation of hunters buzzed with excitement. A few recognized her, of course—some from her concerts, others from society pages or SDC propaganda. They bowed and simpered, offering practiced compliments about her voice. She answered with equally practiced politeness, but kept her distance. Those old roles felt like clothes she'd outgrown.
"Next flight to Vale, departing in fifteen minutes. All passengers, please proceed to Gate 2."
The announcement cut through the chatter, and Weiss found herself drawn to the window. Atlas sprawled below, a city of spires and secrets, of frost-white towers and shadow-filled valleys. Her prison and her home. Somewhere in those streets, she'd learned to stand tall. Somewhere in those training rooms, she'd found her strength.
"Goodbye," she whispered to the city that had shaped her, then turned away before nostalgia could take root.
The flight to Vale offered views that would have cost a fortune to paint. Frozen seas glittered like broken mirrors, mountain peaks wore crowns of eternal ice, and eventually, the landscape softened into rolling hills of emerald green. Weiss spent the journey alternating between studying her huntsman texts and simply watching the world change beneath her.
Her thoughts kept drifting to Naruto. Had he seen these same sights? Had he looked down at these mountains and forests and felt this same mix of terror and possibility? She closed her eyes, letting the engine's steady thrum wash over her. Somewhere ahead lay Beacon, and with it, perhaps, answers to questions she hadn't even learned to ask yet.
Days later, as she stepped onto Beacon's landing platform, the air itself felt different—warmer than Atlas, yes, but also somehow lighter, full of promise. Banners snapped in the breeze, each bearing the crossed axes of Beacon Academy. Around her, future hunters spilled from airships like autumn leaves, their weapons and personalities equally colorful.
"Name, please?"
Weiss straightened, meeting the dock official's eyes. "Weiss Schnee."
His eyebrows did their predictable dance of recognition. "Ah, from the SDC?" He handed her a scroll containing orientation materials. "Welcome to Beacon Academy."
She accepted the device with a quiet thank you, already moving aside for the next student. The name still followed her like a shadow, but here, perhaps, she could step into the light on her own terms.
Her assigned dorm room smelled of new beginnings—fresh paint, clean sheets, untold possibilities. She had barely set down her trunk when her scroll buzzed: orientation ceremony in fifteen minutes. Her heart picked up speed, a drummer keeping time with her thoughts.
"You've faced down mechanical knights," she reminded herself, adjusting her pale-blue brooch in the mirror. "You can handle a crowd."
Beacon's halls wound like arteries through the academy's heart, carrying streams of students toward their shared destiny. Some walked with confident strides, others with tentative steps, but all moved with purpose. Whispers followed her—about her name, her voice, her family's empire—but they felt distant now, like echoes from another life.
When she emerged into the courtyard, sunlight caught her off guard. After Atlas's eternal winter, Vale's warmth felt almost decadent. Students gathered around a central statue, their weapons catching the light like jewels. The air hummed with dozens of conversations in as many languages, punctuated by the occasional clash of practice weapons or burst of semblance-powered showing off.
Weiss paused, taking in the scene. This was what she'd fought for—what she'd defied her father for. A chance to be more than an heiress, more than a singer, more than a name in a newspaper. Her eyes scanned the crowd almost unconsciously, seeking a flash of orange, a confident grin, a voice that had once urged her to believe in herself.
But Naruto wasn't here. This was her story now.
The speakers crackled with announcements about dorm assignments and upcoming addresses. Students began to gather more purposefully around the statue, their excited chatter taking on an edge of anticipation. Soon, Headmaster Ozpin would speak. Soon, their real trials would begin.
Weiss touched Myrtenaster's hilt, drawing strength from the familiar contact. Then, head high, she stepped forward into the crowd. The next chapter of her life was about to begin, and this time, she was writing it herself.
As she reached the heart of the courtyard, where destiny waited to weave her into its tapestry, Weiss felt something she hadn't expected: peace. Whatever came next—whatever trials Beacon held, whatever partners fate assigned her, whatever battles lay ahead—she was ready.
She was no longer just Weiss Schnee, heiress to the SDC.
She was Weiss Schnee, huntress-in-training.
And she was exactly where she needed to be.