RWBY: Moon Reflection

The earlier laughter had subsided, giving way to quieter, more reflective discussions. Qrow leaned back in his chair, nursing his drink as he eyed Crimson curiously.

"How do semblances look to you?" Qrow asked, breaking the silence.

Crimson tilted his head thoughtfully. "Semblances appear like glowing seeds in your hearts," he explained. "When someone uses their semblance, the seed blooms into an intricate shape. Each one is unique, almost like a fingerprint." He paused and glanced at Qrow. "But when I look at you, your semblance is different. It's... active all the time, like it never stops blooming."

Qrow nodded slightly, his gaze dropping to the table. "That makes sense," he said quietly. "My semblance isn't something I turn on or off. I bring bad luck to everyone around me." His voice carried a note of sadness, and the weight of his words hung in the air. "It's caused more problems than I care to admit."

After a brief silence, Qrow looked up at Crimson, his expression heavy with guilt. "I owe you an apology," he said. "For lying to you all these years—saying I was your uncle when I'm really your father. I thought it was for the best, but maybe... maybe my semblance was part of the bad luck in your life."

Crimson's expression softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "You don't need to worry about that," he said. "I don't hold a grudge over it. I understand why you and uncle Tai chose to lie to us. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "I am sure it is the other way around. Your semblance made you unlucky enough to get a mentally unstable son like me."

Qrow blinked at the unexpected humor, then laughed, a genuine smile breaking through his somber demeanor. "You have got a point there," he admitted, his mood lightened.

Across the table, Oscar, who had been quiet throughout most of the evening, finally spoke. "Crimson," he began hesitantly, "how do you see Ozpin? I mean... when you look at me?"

Crimson's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the question. "That's... hard to explain," he said slowly. "It's the first time I've seen anything like it. When I look at you, I see... an abomination of faces, all combined into one. Ozpin is at the forefront, but there are others behind him, all tangled together. It's unsettling."

Oscar winced, visibly uncomfortable, but before he could respond, Crimson's expression shifted as if remembering something. "The god I met spoke of two immortals in this world," he said, his tone curious. "Ozpin and... Salem, the queen of Grimm. Are they the two he meant?"

Oscar nodded reluctantly, his voice tinged with sadness. "Yes. Ozpin's soul... ended up in my head one day. That's how I found out."

Crimson nodded in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "I see," he murmured, letting the topic rest.

_______________________

The next morning, the group gathered outside for some light training. The sun was bright, casting warm rays across the sparring grounds. Yang approached Crimson, her expression determined, Nora's earlier words still echoing in her mind.

"Crimson," she called out, her tone steady, "let's spar."

Crimson raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the request. "You want to spar with me?"

Yang nodded firmly. "Yeah. After everything you've been through, I'm curious to see how strong you have become."

Crimson studied her for a moment before shrugging. "Alright," he said simply, stepping forward.

The two took their positions, the rest of the group gathering nearby to watch. Yang smirked as she stretched her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm surprised you agreed so easily, you are usually reluctant to fight" she said, her tone light.

Crimson shrugged again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Things have changed. Let's see what you've got."

"Aren't you going to draw your sword?" Yang asked curiously, she is used to seeing Crimson holding a stick or a pipe in his hand when sparring with her.

"Not this time" Crimson replied with a warm smile.

Wasting no time, Yang charged at Crimson with a flurry of punches, each one aimed with precision and power. Crimson, however, remained calm, effortlessly blocking every strike with a single hand.

The sharp sound of fists colliding with defenses echoed through the air, and Yang's expression shifted as she narrowed her eyes in concentration.

Her hair began to glow golden, and her eyes turned a fiery red as her semblance activated. With a determined roar, she lunged forward, delivering a punch with all her strength. Crimson didn't flinch. As the punch came, he raised his hand and caught her fist mid-air.

The impact caused a shockwave to ripple outward, sending dust and leaves flying. Yang's eyes widened in disbelief. Crimson stood unmoved, his grip firm around her hand as though the effort required was minimal.

The others watched in stunned silence. Pyrrha was the first to break it, her voice barely above a whisper. "He didn't even budge..."

Weiss and Blake exchanged uneasy glances, both equally astonished. "That's... terrifying," Weiss said, her voice tinged with awe.

Yang pulled her hand back, her expression a mixture of surprise and newfound respect. "You've always been strong," she admitted, "but I didn't think you'd be able to take that head-on like it was nothing."

Crimson smiled faintly, his tone casual as he shrugged. "I got stronger."

Yang, still curious, tilted her head. "How strong are you, really?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and caution.

Crimson hummed, thoughtful for a moment. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure himself. His training and sparring with Yoriichi had pushed his limits, but it made estimating his own strength difficult. Finally, he said, "While I am not as resilient or durable as my demonic state, my overall strength should be somewhat stronger now than the second form."

His words sent a chill through the group. The demon they all remembered was a walking catastrophe, a being of unparalleled destruction and malevolence. The idea that Crimson has surpassed it gave them a sobering perspective on just how far he had come.

Yang exhaled slowly, her confidence tempered by awe. "That's... a lot to take in," she admitted.

The group exchanged glances, each processing Crimson's words in their own way. It was clear that he had grown far beyond their expectations.

No one after Yang asked to spar with Crimson. His words were a sobering realization that any attempt to spar with him would be less of a match and more of a lesson in humility.

_______________________

Later that day, the group gathered in the spacious dining area of Pyrrha's family estate. Nora and Ren had stepped out earlier, and when they returned, they brought Jaune along with them. Jaune's arrival was met with enthusiastic greetings and excited chatter as the group caught up on each other's lives and shared stories from their respective journeys. Amidst the lively conversation, the comforting aroma of food wafted through the air, drawing their attention toward the kitchen.

Crimson was at the stove, moving with practiced ease as he prepared food for everyone. Pyrrha's mother was by his side, helping with the preparation. The two worked together seamlessly, exchanging ideas about flavors and recipes as they went about their tasks. Their quiet collaboration added a warm, homely touch to the bustling atmosphere in the dining room.

From her seat at the table, Nora noticed them working together and couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. She nudged Pyrrha with her elbow and grinned. "You might want to start preparing yourself to call Crimson 'Dad,' Pyrrha."

The comment caught everyone's attention, and Jaune, who was in the middle of recounting an adventure, stopped to process what he'd just heard. "Wait, what?" he said, blinking in surprise. "Crimson's into older, married women now?"

The group burst into laughter, and Yang and Ruby quickly joined in on the joke. "Guess that makes you our step-niece, huh, Pyrrha?" Yang quipped, winking mischievously.

Ruby chimed in "Does that mean you have to call us Aunts now?"

Pyrrha's face flushed crimson as she tried to wave off their teasing. "It's nothing like that!" she protested, though her embarrassment only fueled the laughter around her. Despite her protests, the playful teasing continued, and Pyrrha made a mental note to talk to her mother about the situation later.

_______________________

That night, after the group had dispersed to their rooms, Pyrrha approached her mother in the living room. Her mother was seated on a comfortable armchair, a book in her lap, but she looked up and smiled warmly as Pyrrha entered.

"Mother," Pyrrha began hesitantly, "there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Her mother closed her book and gave her full attention. "Of course, dear. What's on your mind?"

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "It's about Crimson. The others were joking earlier about... about you and him. They said—" She faltered, unsure how to phrase it.

Her mother's lips twitched with amusement. "That I might be interested in him?"

Pyrrha nodded, her cheeks turning pink. "Yes. They said I should be ready to call him... Dad."

Her mother chuckled softly, clearly entertained. "Well, I have to admit, Crimson is quite nice to be around. He's thoughtful, skilled, and kind. I've started to like him." She paused, observing her daughter's reaction.

Pyrrha froze, her heart skipping a beat. "You... like him?" she repeated, her voice faint.

Seeing her daughter's stunned expression, her mother laughed harder. "Oh, Pyrrha, don't look so alarmed! What I meant is that I wouldn't mind having him around more often. He's a good man."

Pyrrha let out a small sigh of relief, only for her mother to add with a teasing glint in her eye, "You should act quickly before someone else does. You have my approval"

Pyrrha's face turned scarlet, and she stood abruptly. "Goodnight, Mother!" she said hastily, turning to leave.

Her mother's laughter followed her as she left the room, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment.