Morning, Team RWBY's Dorm
"Weiss! Get up, we're going to be late!" Ruby shook her teammate insistently. She and the rest of the team were already dressed in their Beacon uniforms, bags slung over their shoulders. Weiss, however, hadn't moved an inch.
"WEISS! WAKE UP!" Ruby yelled, shaking her harder.
A muffled sound escaped Weiss as she finally stirred.
"Okay—okay, I'm here, jeez." She clicked her tongue irritably and pushed herself upright, white hair falling messily over her shoulders as she rubbed at her eyes.
Ruby immediately backed off, relieved.
"Huh? What do you want?" Weiss asked flatly.
Blake crossed her arms, frowning. "Why aren't you in uniform? We're already late."
"Yeah!" Yang added. "Did you forget our first subject is history? Doc's gonna make us report in front again!"
None of it seemed to register with Weiss.
She blinked once, slowly.
"Huh?" she muttered, then waved a hand lazily. "Look, how about you gals go on your way and leave me alone for a while, c'psh?" She yawned, stretching like someone twice her age. "Not every day I get to experience sleep without something in my body screaming at me. Think I'll be enjoying it all day."
Before any of them could respond, Weiss laced both hands behind her head and flopped backward onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh.
"Ahh," she murmured. "Being young really is a blessing."
The room went dead silent.
"...What?" Ruby said flatly, eye twitching. "Weiss, stop with the act. It's not funny anymore! We need you now!"
The only response was a soft, immediate—Snrrrk. Weiss had already rolled onto her side, breathing deep and even.
Ruby stared at her.
"...She—" Ruby inhaled sharply. "SHE FELL ASLEEP THAT FAST?!"
"WEISSS!!" Ruby screamed, stomping her foot hard enough to rattle the floor.
Weiss didn't move, and Yang pinched the bridge of her nose. Blake frowned, eyes narrowed as she watched Weiss sleep like she didn't have a care in the world. "Okay. That's new.", Blake said.
Ruby marched back to the bed and shook Weiss again. "Wake up! You're missing class! You hate missing class!"
Weiss snored louder.
Yang sighed, long and heavy. "Forget it, Rubes. Whatever this is, it's not stopping." She glanced back at Weiss, unease creeping into her voice. "And I'm starting to think this isn't an act."
Blake lingered by the door, fingers resting lightly on the handle as if she were debating whether leaving was a mistake.
Her eyes flicked back to the bed one last time.
Weiss Schnee—normally upright, immaculate, and perpetually irritated by inefficiency—was sprawled across her mattress like a retired salaryman who had just discovered the joy of sleeping past sunrise. One arm was flung over her eyes, the other tucked beneath her head, posture loose in a way that felt wrong on her.
Blake hesitated.
"...We'll come back after class," she said at last, her voice low and careful.
After a few grumbled complaints, the group finally retreated and clicked the door shut. Weiss opened one eye, waiting for the silence to settle before she dared to sit up.
She moved slowly, crossing the room to the window to take in the morning air. 'I've been reborn as a teenage girl named Weiss,' Kenji thought, watching the students mill about on the paths below. 'And it looks like I'm stuck in a dormitory.' His gaze drifted past the campus to the distant mountains, their peaks glowing under the rising sun.
"How nostalgic..." she murmured. "Being back in school brings back memories. Though, come to think of it, I have no idea where I am or what country this even is." She hadn't stepped foot outside yesterday, and the walls were starting to close in. "Time to explore. And a meal would be nice, too."
Turning back to the room, her eyes landed on the Beacon uniform hanging against the wall. "That must be mine." Her gaze dropped to the skirt, and her brow furrowed in immediate distaste. "There is no way I'm wearing that."
After a quick bath, Weiss managed the uniform top easily enough, but the skirt was tossed unceremoniously across the room. Standing there in nothing but a pair of pink panties, she began rummaging through the wardrobe with a growing sense of desperation.
"C'mon, there has to be something in here other than a skirt."
Finally, her hand snagged a pair of sleek black slacks. She pulled them out, inspecting the fabric. "Good enough."
She zipped them up, stepped into a pair of heels, hair untied, and headed for the door. The moment she took a step, her ankles wobbled.
"Damn. I hate these things... but I can't exactly roam around barefoot."
Kenji wasn't a fool; he understood the situation. He had already accepted that this was his new reality. There was no point in complaining—he was far too old for tantrums. If this was his fate, he would meet it head-on.
"I guess I'm relearning life as a girl," she muttered, nearly losing her balance again as she stepped into the hallway. "Let's see how this goes. But seriously... fuck heels."
Team RWBY
The air in the lecture hall was thick with the scent of ozone and over-steeped coffee. Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck was less a teacher and more a blur of motion, vibrating in place behind his desk as he spoke at a speed that defied physics.
"Now! As we discuss the sociopolitical ramifications of the Great War, one must account for the shift from monarchical oversight to the Council system we see today!" Oobleck took a sip of coffee so fast the liquid barely seemed to leave the mug. "Which brings us to our scheduled presentation! Team RWBY! If you would please take the floor to discuss the expansion of Dust-tech during the middle-era transition!"
Ruby, Yang, and Blake froze. Usually, this was the moment where Weiss would stand up, adjust her bolero, and lead them to the front with a perfectly organized stack of note cards.
Instead, there was an empty seat.
"Uh," Ruby squeaked, standing up slowly. "Right. The... expansion. Of stuff."
The three of them shuffled to the front of the room. Yang looked like she wanted to punch her way out of the awkwardness, while Blake tried to hide behind her bangs.
"Excellent! Proceed!" Oobleck chirped, his foot tapping a mile a minute.
"Okay, so," Ruby started, sweating under the gaze of the entire class. "Dust is... old. But people started using it more. For, uh, heating? And also... shooting things?"
"Specifically," Blake interjected, trying to save the sinking ship, "the integration of refined Fire Dust into early industrial turbines allowed for—" She glanced at the empty space where Weiss usually stood with the technical data. "—for... very efficient... turbines."
"And they were big!" Yang added, giving a thumbs up. "Really big. Like, huge."
Oobleck blinked, his glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights. "A remarkably... concise summary, Miss Xiao Long. However, I believe Miss Schnee was meant to provide the statistical analysis on the Schnee Dust Company's early prototypes? Where is Miss Schnee?"
All three of them gulped.
'Weiss... WE NEED YOU!' All three thought at the same time.
Weiss Schnee.
While Team RWBY was dying a slow death in front of the class, the girl known as Weiss Schnee was wandering the west wing of the academy with the aimless grace of a man looking for a betting parlor.
Her appearance was a total disaster by Schnee standards. Her famous white hair, usually pulled into a sharp, disciplined side-pony, hung loose and tangled down her back. Her face was completely bare of the usual makeup—eyelids heavy with a lingering sleepiness, lips set in a flat, hard line. With her hands shoved deep into her trouser pockets and her shoulders hunched forward, she didn't look like an heiress. She looked like a debt collector.
This place is huge, Kenji thought, her eyes scanning the architecture with a critical eye. Reminds me of those fancy hotels in Roppongi. Too much marble. Hard to clean blood off marble.
He took another step, and his left heel caught a groove in the floor.
"Son of a—"
Weiss stumbled, her arms windmilling for a second before she regained her balance with a grunt. She looked down at the shoes with genuine murderous intent. "I've faced rival families with nothing but a short blade and a bad attitude, but these shoes? These shoes are a war crime."
She continued her "exploration," which mostly consisted of her trying to find a place that sold a decent cup of black coffee—or maybe a hidden smoking area. She walked past several open classroom doors, her heavy, slouched stride drawing confused glances from the few staff members in the halls. To them, she just looked like a delinquent student who had forgotten how to use a hairbrush.
As she rounded a corner near the art department, she didn't notice a scrawny second-year student backing out of a doorway, carefully lugging a massive, intricate sculpture made of delicate glass and wire.
Clack. Clack. Slip.
"Whoa—!" Kenji barked as his ankle gave way again.
He lunged forward to steady himself, his shoulder colliding directly with the student. It wasn't a soft bump; it was the shoulder-check of a man who had spent decades in bar fights.
CRASH.
The sculpture hit the floor, shattering into a thousand shimmering pieces. The student let out a strangled cry of horror, dropping to his knees. "Four months! That was four months of work!"
Kenji straightened his uniform top, looking down at the wreckage. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't gasp in apology. Instead, he looked at the crying boy with a stoic, heavy-lidded gaze.
"Kid," Weiss's voice came out, sounding oddly raspier than usual. "In life, things break. You can spend your time crying over the glass, or you can go get a broom and start over. Build it stronger next time. Wire's too thin on the base anyway—structurally unsound."
The student looked up. He had messy green hair and a pair of thick, circular glasses that were currently fogging up from his frantic breathing. He was trembling, his face flushed with a mix of grief and sudden, hot rage.
"Not even an apology?!" He scrambled to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. "Who do you think you are!? Do you have any idea how much work went into that project?!"
He stepped closer, trying to loom over her, but Kenji didn't even flinch. To a man who had stared down loaded barrels and rival bosses in rain-slicked back alleys, a teenager with an art project was about as threatening as a wet napkin.
Weiss's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing into a sharp, icy glare that carried a weight no teenager should possess. Without a word, she moved—not a strike, but a swift, disciplined flick of her fingers.
Thwack!
Her middle finger snapped against the boy's forehead with the precision of a master.
"Ow—!" The boy recoiled, clutching his brow as he stumbled back. "Y-you! What was that for?!"
"Boy," Weiss said, her voice low and gravelly, sounding like it had been dragged over stones. "Get a hold of yourself. You're making a scene over a pile of glass. Where I'm from, if you can't protect your assets, you don't complain to the person who broke them—you learn to hold them tighter."
She didn't wait for him to process the lecture. She reached out, her hand moving toward his shoulder. The boy flinched, expecting a blow, but she simply patted his shoulder twice—the heavy, firm pat of a boss acknowledging a subordinate.
"Now, quit the waterworks. I've got more important things to worry about than your arts and crafts," she grunted, adjusting her top. "Since you're already standing, be useful. Where's the cafeteria? And point me toward the library. I need to figure out what kind of neighborhood I'm living in."
The boy stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He looked at her loose, messy hair, the lack of makeup, and the sharp black slacks. He had seen Weiss Schnee in the news—the elegant, polished heiress of the SDC. This girl looked like she had just finished a twelve-hour shift at a construction site and was looking for someone to sue.
"I... the cafeteria is down that hall and to the left," he stammered, his anger completely drained by her sheer intensity. "The library is in the central tower, second floor."
"Left, then the tower. Got it." Weiss turned, her heels clicking unevenly on the floor as she resumed her wobbly walk. "And kid? Next time, build it out of steel. Glass is for people who like to cry."
She disappeared around the corner, leaving the green-haired student standing amidst the ruins of his project, wondering if he had just been lectured by a ghost or a very confused delinquent.
The boy then looked at destroyed project on the ground.
"There goes my grades.." He muttered.
***
RINGGG!
The sharp chime of Beacon's bell sliced through the air, echoing down the lecture hall and bouncing off the polished stone walls.
Professor Goodwitch straightened, tapping her riding crop once against the podium. "That will be all for today. It seems our lesson will have to be postponed." Her gaze swept over the room, sharp and assessing. "A reminder—Intramurals begin next week."
A low murmur rippled through the hall.
"Each student is encouraged to join a sport," she continued coolly. "It is not mandatory, but participation will add thirty percent to your overall grade."
That got their attention; even the back-row sleepers sat up.
"I trust you all understand the incentive," Goodwitch added before turning on her heel, her cape swirling behind her. "Dismissed."
Chairs scraped against the floor as the room erupted into motion. Laughter, complaints, and excited chatter blended together as students poured toward the exits. For Team RWBY, however, the noise was just a background hum to their internal crisis. History had been a disaster, and they hadn't absorbed a single word of Glynda's lecture. They were too busy drowning in the awkward aftermath of their failed report.
Team RWBY and Team JNPR naturally fell into step in the hallway, and the void was immediate. Weiss Schnee was not among them.
Jaune noticed it first. He slowed, glancing between Ruby, Blake, and Yang. Their usual rhythm was off. There was no sharp commentary, no clipped complaints, and no elegant scoff from the heiress who usually walked with the posture of a queen.
Nora noticed next, followed by Pyrrha and Ren. Jaune looked at Nora, and both shared a confused shrug.
"What's with the long faces?" Pyrrha asked, her voice tilting with genuine concern.
Ruby's shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world had just doubled.
Before she could answer, Nora leaned in dramatically, peering around them as if Weiss might suddenly materialize out of thin air. "Yeah! And where's the Ice Queen?" she asked. "It's really weird seeing you guys without her."
Ruby spun around mid-step, her hands flailing. "That's the problem! She said she wasn't coming to class at all! She said she was going to sleep the whole day!"
Jaune blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. "Weiss... skipped class? Voluntarily? That's not just odd, that's a glitch in the universe."
Ruby nodded vigorously. "And it's not just that! The way she talks... it's not like her. Not even close."
Blake let out a quiet sigh, her thumb tracing the edge of her book. "She feels... different," she murmured, choosing her words carefully. "Like someone else is wearing her face."
Yang rolled her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. "I'm with Blake on this one," she exhaled. "And that's saying something, because Weiss usually lives to complain. Now? She's doing the exact opposite of her 'Internal Settings.' No lectures, no schedules, and zero freaking out about grades."
Yang frowned, her expression darkening. "That alone is terrifying."
Jaune raised a brow, slowing to a stop. "Wait, really?" He looked between them. "Okay, now you've got my attention. What exactly did she say?"
Team RWBY halted in the middle of the hallway. Students streamed around them like a river around a stone, voices echoing and footsteps rushing past—but for a moment, the three girls stood still, their silence speaking louder than the crowd.
"She told us to go on our way and leave her alone," Ruby whispered, looking traumatized. "She called us... 'gals.'"
"She called me 'kid,'" Yang added with a shiver. "I know she's older than me just a few months, but we're the same age!"
"Guys, look," Ren said suddenly, his voice calm but sharp. He was pointing toward the far end of the corridor, near the entrance to the central courtyard.
The group turned as one.
Walking away from them was a girl with long, snow-white hair. But the hair wasn't tied in its signature, regal ponytail; it was a wild, loose mane that swayed with every step. She wasn't wearing her combat skirt. Instead, she wore a pair of sharp black slacks that looked like they belonged on a high-end bodyguard.
She was walking with a strange, heavy-shouldered slouch, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Every few steps, she would wobble violently on her heels, let out a muffled, gravelly curse that sounded suspiciously like "goddamn stilts," and then continue on as if nothing had happened.
"Uh, who's that? I don't kn—" Jaune started, raising a brow at the delinquent-looking girl.
"WEISS?!" Team RWBY whispered loudly in unison.
Jaune and Nora's eyes widened in sheer disbelief; even Pyrrha looked intrigued, her head tilting as she processed the sight.
"Wait... THAT'S Weiss?" Jaune pointed, shock written all over his face. "Since when does she... slouch? And where are the skirts? And the... everything?"
Jaune squinted. "She looks like she's about to go collect a debt."
"She didn't even put on her ribbon," Blake noted, her eyes wide. "Or her makeup. She looks like she just rolled out of a back alley."
As they watched, a group of upperclassmen accidentally got in her way. Normally, Weiss would have cleared her throat and waited for them to move with a haughty glare.
This girl didn't wait.
She simply walked straight through the middle of the group, her shoulder catching a much larger student and sending him stumbling back. She didn't even look back. She just kept walking, her head tilted as if she were looking for a fight or a very specific place to sit down.
"That's it," Ruby said, her voice trembling. "We're following her. That's not Weiss. That's... that's a ghost in a Weiss suit!"
"I don't know," Nora whispered, looking impressed. "I kind of like the new walk. It's got... swagger."
[End]