The dorm room, a space meant for four students to share and bond, felt more like a cage holding four strangers. The air was thick with a silence that was far heavier than any noise. No one spoke, and no one dared to break the unspoken truce that kept them from addressing the elephant in the room: the blood, the scythe, and the look of terrifying power in Ruby's eyes.
Ruby had claimed the bed closest to the window, but she kept her back to the rest of the room. She was curled into a tight ball, her face buried in her pillow, as if to physically block out the presence of her new team. Every time the door creaked or someone shifted on their bed, she would flinch, her shoulders tensing. She was hiding, retreating from the fear she had seen on their faces, the fear that still stung worse than any wound.
Yang sat on the edge of her own bed, her usual boisterous energy completely absent. She stared at the back of Ruby's head, her brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. She had a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't know how to begin. The girl she had just seen wasn't the Ruby she was beginning to know, and the chasm between them now felt impossibly wide. With a quiet sigh, she picked up her Scroll and stared at the blank screen, pretending to be busy.
Across the room, Weiss worked at her desk, her movements sharp and deliberate. Her books were stacked in perfect, precise piles, and she wrote with an almost angry focus, her pen scratching against the paper with a rhythmic ferocity. She wasn't just working; she was building a wall, a fortress of order and logic to protect herself from the terrifying chaos she had witnessed in the forest. She studiously ignored both Ruby's retreat and Yang's conflicted presence, finding comfort in the predictable nature of her schoolwork.
Meanwhile, Blake was a silent observer in her corner, her nose buried in a book. She had positioned her bed so she could see the entire room without anyone seeing her. Her eyes flickered up from the pages every so often, watching the strained interactions, or lack thereof. While the others saw a scary anomaly in Ruby, Blake saw something else-the familiar burden of a secret, the fear of being seen for what you are, and the pain of being judged for it. Her silence wasn't a sign of fear, but of quiet, pensive understanding.
The dorm room was not a home for a team, but a temporary holding cell for four shattered individuals, all waiting to see who would be the first to crack under the immense, unyielding pressure of their new reality.
A sudden, sharp knock sounded at the door, but before any of the girls could call out, the door swung open. Alex leaned against the frame, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face. "Ah, it's so quiet in here," she said, her voice cutting through the heavy tension like a knife. "Still not talking to each other?"
Ruby, who had been facing the wall, looked over her shoulder. Her expression had hardened, a mask of cold indifference replacing her usual youthful demeanor. The small, hopeful spark she had shown earlier was gone. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice flat. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up with a decisive motion. "I'll ask Ozpin to get me a single room."
Yang's head snapped up from her phone. "Are you just going to avoid talking to us forever?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration.
Ruby let out a low, humorless snarl. "Says the one who's just pretending to be on her phone," she retorted, her gaze boring into Yang's. She walked toward the door, her steps purposeful. As she passed Alex, she didn't so much as glance at her. With that, she was out the door and gone.
Alex watched her go, a sigh escaping her lips. She shook her head and ran a hand through her silver hair. "She..." Alex began, her voice weary. She turned her attention to the three remaining girls. "She isn't good at talking to people." Alex leaned against the doorframe, her posture serious. "She was abandoned by her family once. She thinks if she doesn't get close to anyone, it won't hurt if she ever gets abandoned again."
Yang's frown deepened, her eyes wide with a dawning realization. "Abandoned...?" she asked, the word sounding hollow.
Weiss, who had been listening intently, stiffened at her desk. Blake, ever the silent observer, simply turned her head, her gaze fixed on the now-empty doorway.
Alex nodded slowly, the weight of the words hanging in the air. "Yeah. Found her in a village destroyed by Grimm when she was eight. She was the only survivor."
The revelation hung in the air, a shocking weight that silenced the room entirely. Yang's mouth was still slightly agape, the word "abandoned" echoing hollowly in the small space. She lowered her Scroll slowly, the playful pretense of being busy completely gone. Her earlier frustration with Ruby had evaporated, replaced by a wave of cold, dawning guilt. A knot formed in her stomach as she stared at the empty doorway where Ruby had disappeared.
It was a strange and unsettling feeling, a stillness that her restless mind rarely experienced. The conversation with Alex had unsettled her deeply, and now, for some reason she couldn't explain, her mind kept replaying fragments of her own childhood. She was sifting through memories like a detective searching for a missing clue, her subconscious churning with a painful and unfamiliar urgency. The word "abandoned" was a constant, sharp echo in her head, a persistent whisper that felt as though it were rattling the bars of a cage. It wasn't just a word anymore; it was a key. It was reminding her of something, a forgotten feeling, a faint ache that she hadn't realized was a part of her own past until that very moment. Something about Ruby's story felt deeply, uncomfortably familiar, and she was beginning to realize that a significant and painful piece of her own history was just out of reach.
Finally, she turned to Alex, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't she tell us?"
Alex pushed off the doorframe, a sad, knowing look in her eyes. "Because it's not a secret, it's a wound," she said simply, her voice filled with a weary understanding. "It's the reason she's been building walls for years. When you've seen the worst that the world can do, when you've been betrayed by the people who were supposed to protect you, you stop trusting so easily. Every time someone gets close, all she can think about is how much it's going to hurt when they leave."
Blake, who had been listening with an intensity that went unnoticed by the others, finally spoke from her corner. Her voice was quiet but firm. "It's not about what you can see," she said, looking at a spot on the wall. "It's about what you can feel. Trust...is a risk."
A flicker of something-was it shame? was it understanding?-crossed Weiss's face as she finally looked up from her books. Her perfect posture faltered for a moment. She thought back to her own carefully constructed walls, to the distance she kept from others. For the first time, she saw a piece of herself in Ruby.
"We scared her," Yang said, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "The fear in our eyes... that's exactly what she was afraid of."
Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said, her voice softer now. "That look from you guys... it was a reminder. It confirmed everything she's ever believed about people. It told her she was right to be alone."
She looked at the three girls, her gaze serious. "So, what are you going to do now?" she challenged. "You can keep acting like strangers who share a room, or you can try to be a team. But if you choose the second option, you've got a lot of work to do. Because she doesn't believe in happy endings."
The heavy silence that had settled over the room was shattered by the sudden scrape of a chair against the floor. Yang stood up, her movement so abrupt and resolute that it made both Weiss and Blake flinch. The look of guilt and confusion that had clouded her expression just moments before was gone, replaced by a fierce, determined fire in her eyes.
"I'll go find her," she said, her voice low and firm, a challenge to the world and to herself. "And I'll bring her back." She walked toward the center of the room, her gaze sweeping over her two teammates. The immense weight of Alex's words now guided her every thought. "We shouldn't treat her differently. Not because of what we saw, or because of what she's been through. She's a part of our team now, and we're not going to abandon her."
Her gaze lingered on Weiss and Blake for a moment longer, a silent plea for them to understand. With a final, decisive nod, she turned back to the door. "I'll be back," she stated, her voice full of a quiet, unshakeable promise, "and she'll be right beside me."
With that, she walked out, the click of the door closing behind her leaving Weiss and Blake in a silence that felt heavier and more purposeful than before.
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"What do you mean I can't?" Ruby's voice was filled with a frustration that had been building since she left her dorm room. She stood before Professor Ozpin's massive desk, his office a silent, towering spire above Beacon Academy. Her request for a single room had been met with a quiet, maddening refusal. "I'd rather be living by myself than with people who look at me like I'm a monster," she stated, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Ozpin simply sighed, the quiet sound a stark contrast to the anger simmering within her. He took a slow sip from his mug. "They are your teammates, Ruby. You are expected to get along. And besides, it hasn't even been a few days. You were just assigned to them yesterday."
Ruby let out a sharp, incredulous breath. "So what? I can still be a team player without being in the same place as them!" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I know you saw what I did. Don't act like you didn't. You monitored our entire initiation; you saw what I did to that Grimm."
A prolonged silence filled the room, broken only by the quiet ticking of the gears in the massive clock behind Ozpin's desk. He finally set his mug down with a soft click and rubbed a hand across his forehead. His expression was no longer one of simple patience, but of deep, weary understanding.
"I recognized Dr. Merlot's so-called experiments," he said suddenly, his voice low and serious.
Ruby's body went rigid. Her eyes snapped to his, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "...What?" she whispered, the single word a mix of confusion and dread.
Ozpin looked directly at her, his gaze unwavering. "I know who you are, Ruby Rose. You are so much more than what those people did to you." He took another slow sip of his coffee, the action a small moment of composure in a moment of immense vulnerability. "I teamed you up with the people who will understand you more than anything. They may not know it yet, and neither do you, but they are your best chance at a future. That is why you are safer with them."
He looked at her over the rim of his mug, his expression softening just a touch. "Trust me."
The word hit Ruby like a physical blow. Trust. It was a concept she had long since abandoned. "Trusting someone I barely know... that's..." She looked away, her gaze falling to the gleaming gears of the clock. "I didn't come here to make friends. I came here to become a Hunter... to be a..."
"A puppet?" Ozpin finished for her, his voice gentle but firm, cutting straight to the very core of her fear. "A tool to be used and discarded? You are more than that, Ruby. So much more."
Ozpin's words hung in the air between them, a final, devastating blow that cut deeper than any Grimm stinger. Ruby's mind, already reeling from the conversation, struggled to process the finality of his statement. He had seen it all, and he knew a part of her she didn't even know existed. She was a puppet. The word echoed hollowly in her skull, a painful and undeniable truth.
She just stared at him, unable to form a single coherent thought, let alone a response. Ozpin, sensing the conversation had reached its conclusion, simply offered a small, gentle nod. With a silent command, the gears of the clock behind his desk shifted, and the elevator doors to his office slid open.
Ruby turned and walked into the elevator, the cold silence of the enclosed space a jarring contrast to the emotional turmoil raging within her. The long ride down was a slow, painful descent. She stared at her reflection in the polished steel doors, a strange, hollow version of herself looking back. The girl who had walked into the office was full of righteous anger; the one leaving felt utterly defeated and exposed.
When the doors opened, she was thrust back into the bustling, noisy world of Beacon Academy. The hallways were alive with students laughing, talking, and hurrying to their classes. It was a normal, vibrant world, and it made her feel more alone than ever. She walked with her head down, trying to become invisible, the crowd's energy a suffocating weight.
Ozpin's words still echoed in Ruby's mind as she walked aimlessly through the quiet campus grounds. The weight of his final statement- "You are safer with them" -was a puzzle she couldn't solve. "Safer?" she whispered to herself, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "What did he even mean? Safer from what?" She felt an immense loneliness, a profound sense of being adrift in a world of people who couldn't possibly understand her.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps and heavy breathing shattered her solitude. She stopped, her heart thumping in her chest, and turned around. It was Yang, her so-to-be friend, running toward her at a desperate sprint, her hair a wild, golden blur.
"Yang...?" Ruby said, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion.
Yang came to a skidding halt right in front of her, leaning over with her hands on her knees, her breath coming in ragged, heaving gasps. "I... finally... found... you," she managed to say between breaths, her voice strained with exhaustion and relief. She straightened up slowly, her gaze fixed on Ruby's face.
Then, her expression softened, and the guilt in her eyes was almost more painful than the fear had been. "We're so sorry," she said, her voice dropping to a low, earnest whisper. "We're sorry for treating you wrongly... for looking at you the way we did."
Ruby flinched, her hands raising instinctively as if to ward off the words. A sharp, familiar ache twisted in her chest. "No," she said, her voice raw. "Please... don't apologize." She looked down at her hands, which still felt like a stranger's. She didn't deserve their apology; this was her fault. Her power, her darkness-it was a part of her, and she had shown them exactly why she was better off alone.
Yang's heart sank at Ruby's words, but she refused to let her retreat again. She took a step closer, her voice firm with a conviction that cut through the pain.
"No," she insisted, her gaze locked on Ruby's. "You listen to me. This isn't your fault. We didn't look at you like a monster; we looked at you like something we'd never seen before, and we let our fear make us selfish. We weren't thinking about you, we were only thinking about ourselves. And that was wrong."
She reached out, and this time, Ruby didn't flinch. Yang gently took Ruby's hands in hers, their coldness a jarring contrast to the warmth of her own skin.
"Alex told us what happened," Yang continued softly, her voice filled with a profound empathy. "She told us about the village, and about your family leaving you behind. We get it now. We get why you push people away. But you need to understand something, Ruby."
Tears were now freely falling down Ruby's cheeks, her shoulders trembling with a grief that had been locked away for years. "I... I'm a monster," she whispered, the words filled with a lifetime of self-loathing.
"No," Yang said, her voice a fierce, unyielding whisper. "You are not a monster. You were just a little girl who was hurt, and you survived. And the only people who were monsters were the ones who abandoned you." Yang's voice cracked with an emotion that was both for Ruby and for herself.
And then, she did the only thing she knew how to do. She pulled Ruby into a fierce, protective hug, holding her tightly as the younger girl's body finally gave in to the storm of emotions she had been holding back. Sobs wracked Ruby's frame, a torrent of pain and loneliness pouring out of her. Yang held her tighter, a silent promise in her embrace. It wasn't just a hug; it was an anchor, a physical declaration that she wasn't going anywhere.
They stood there for a long time, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. The immense wall that had stood between them finally cracked and crumbled, not with a roar, but with a quiet, heartbreaking sound. The silence that followed was no longer one of fear or judgment, but of a fragile, precious understanding. It was the beginning of a team, and the first step on a long, hard road to healing.