Chapter 39: The Weight of Normalcy

The cozy living room of the Xiao Long-Rose home felt unusually heavy. Yang and Tai sat on the couch, their faces marked by worry and fatigue. Across from them were the remaining members of Team JNPR—Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren—who had come to check on their friends. It wasn’t long before their concern turned to alarm upon seeing Yang’s state. She looked drained, her usually vibrant spirit dulled, and the weariness in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Yang
 you look exhausted,” Pyrrha observed gently, her voice tinged with worry.

Yang tried to shrug it off, but her shoulders trembled. Her defenses crumbled, and a shaky breath escaped her lips before tears began to well up. “I
 I think I’m pathetic,” she admitted, her voice breaking. The room fell silent as everyone turned to her, stunned by the sudden confession. “I lost four fingers,” she continued, tears streaming down her face. “And I keep having nightmares about it
 I can’t even sleep alone anymore. I’m terrified.”

It was the first time Yang had voiced the turmoil she’d been harboring since that harrowing night. Tai’s brows knit together in shock and concern. “Yang
 why didn’t you say anything before?” he asked softly, his voice filled with fatherly care.

Yang wiped at her tears, her hands trembling. “Because I didn’t want to look more pathetic than I already am,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to say that I’m scared of my own shadow when my little brother—” Her voice caught, and she sobbed. “He fought so much harder than me, got hurt so much worse
 and the next day, he was just
 Crimson. Acting like everything was fine. Helping around the house. Worried about me and Ruby.” Her voice grew quieter. “The doctor said just moving should be painful for him, but he doesn’t show it. Not at all.”

The weight of her guilt and shame was unbearable, and her tears flowed freely now. “And I feel so guilty,” she choked out. “When Crimson saw my injury that night, he was furious. It was the first time I had ever seen him angry. He went out and
 killed for me. But all I could feel was fear. I was scared of my own brother.”

Tai shifted closer, wrapping his arm around Yang’s shoulders in a comforting embrace. “Yang, you don’t need to carry this alone,” he said firmly, his voice steady yet full of empathy. “And you don’t need to compare yourself to Crimson. He won’t hold anything against you—he never would. Your brother has been
 different from the rest of us since the day he was born. He’s just unique, Yang. That doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

Pyrrha leaned forward, her gaze warm and understanding. “He truly is unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” she said softly. “But instead of feeling guilty, you should feel proud and grateful. Crimson doesn’t fight for recognition or admiration—he fights for the people he loves. For you, Yang.”

Nora, always quick to lighten the mood, broke the solemn atmosphere with a grin. “You know, it’s become a legend around Vale,” she said with a wink. “They say picking a fight with a grimm goliath is safer than upsetting Yang or Ruby. Seriously, people are terrified of you two!”

The room fell silent for a moment before a soft chuckle escaped Yang’s lips. The tension eased, and even Tai let out a small laugh. For the first time in weeks, the heaviness seemed to lift, if only a little. Yang’s tears slowed, and she managed a faint smile.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, her voice still shaky but steadier than before. “I needed that.”

Pyrrha nodded, her expression gentle. “We’re always here for you, Yang. All of us.”

As the conversation in the Xiao Long-Rose home continued, Ren, not seeing Ruby nor Crimson, decided to ask “Where are Crimson and Ruby? We have been here a while, but we haven’t seen either of them yet.”

Tai sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Crimson insisted on checking the state of his school,” he explained. “The place was in one of the areas hit hard during the grimm invasion. Ruby and Qrow went with him to make sure he is safe.”

The group exchanged glances, nodding in understanding. After what everyone had endured, it wasn’t surprising that Crimson felt compelled to check on something so personal. The conversation naturally shifted back to the broader situation in Vale.

“Progress is being made,” Ren said thoughtfully. “It’s slow, but we’re getting there. The grimm attacks are still relentless, but huntsmen and volunteers are holding the line.”

“Yeah,” Nora chimed in, her tone slightly more upbeat. “And, honestly, despite all the bad press, Atlas sticking around to help has been a huge relief. If they’d pulled out completely
” She trailed off, but the implication was clear: the situation would have been far worse.

The room grew quiet for a moment before Pyrrha broke the silence. She shifted in her seat, her expression tinged with regret. “I just wish I could get rid of this damn cane and help out,” she murmured, glancing down at the object resting against her chair.

Yang, still recovering from her earlier vulnerability, offered a reassuring smile. “You will, Pyrrha. You’ll be able to walk normally again—it’s just going to take some time.”

Pyrrha nodded, but the gloom in her eyes didn’t dissipate entirely. “I know. It’s just
 hard. Watching everyone else fight while I sit here.”

Nora, sensing the need for a change in topic, perked up. “Speaking of fighting, has Crimson shared anything new about his Moon Breathing?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Ever since it was mentioned at Beacon, it’s become the most talked-about thing! Everyone want to know more about it”

Yang and Tai exchanged a glance before shaking their heads almost simultaneously. “We haven’t asked him,” Yang admitted.

Tai scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Ruby told me what happened in Beacon, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. How does something like that even work? Or better yet, how does he come up with something so
 absurd?”

The group chuckled at Tai’s candor, but he wasn’t done. “Honestly,” he continued, “I was a little worried about Crimson’s behavior since he was little. I thought maybe Crimson was secretly following some strange moon-worshiping religion or something. I thought as long as it’s not some fanatical cult I can let it slide.”

Laughter erupted around the room, the tension lifting for a moment as the children imagined Crimson leading a moon-themed congregation. Even Pyrrha managed a small smile at the thought.

“Well,” Ren said with a wry smirk, “if it is a religion, it’s certainly an effective one.”

“Yeah,” Nora added, giggling. “Who knew the moon could inspire someone to take down a dragon grimm single-handedly?”

As the laughter settled, the group shared a collective sense of gratitude for the brief moment of levity amid the chaos. But even as they joked, the curiosity about Crimson’s enigmatic techniques lingered in the back of their minds.

_________________________________

The journey back to Patch Island was silent. Crimson sat in his seat, gazing out of the window with a calm, almost serene expression. His body was still wrapped in bandages from the injuries he sustained, yet he looked unbothered, relaxed, as if nothing had happened. Qrow was holding the aircraft’s yoke and occasionally glanced at Crimson through the rearview mirror, concern flickering in his red eyes. Ruby, seated next to Crimson, fidgeted, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Crimson’s demeanor was unsettling. He had discarded his broken biwa—a project he’d poured months of effort into—without hesitation, and he had willingly made his friend Cyan hate him with his cold words. The weight of those moments lingered in the air between them.

Ruby shifted her gaze toward Qrow, hoping he might break the silence, but he remained quiet. His furrowed brows betrayed the thoughts swirling in his mind. He was deeply worried about Crimson. The boy always hid his emotions and pain, bottling them up behind a mask of indifference. Qrow knew this wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t sustainable.

When they finally arrived at the Xiao Long-Rose household, the faint hum of voices drifted through the walls. The warm sound of conversation was a welcome reprieve from the suffocating silence of the car ride. As they stepped inside, they were greeted by the sight of Team JNPR gathered in the living room.

Ruby immediately brightened, her face lighting up as she ran toward them. “Pyrrha! Nora! Ren!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief. “You’re here!”

Pyrrha offered a kind smile, leaning on her cane as she stood to greet Ruby. “It’s good to see you, Ruby.”

Crimson followed Ruby’s lead, giving the group a casual wave. “Welcome. I’ll get lunch started—count yourselves in,” he said, his tone as relaxed as ever.

Ren raised a hand in polite refusal. “We don’t want to trouble you, especially with your injuries.”

Crimson dismissed the concern with a shrug. “I’m injured, not dying,” he replied flatly before disappearing into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

Qrow and Tai exchanged knowing looks, their expressions a mix of frustration and resignation. They had seen this pattern before. Crimson would push through everything—pain, exhaustion, and even grief—without allowing himself a moment of vulnerability.

Team JNPR watched Crimson’s retreating figure, their expressions a mix of awe and unease. It was one thing to hear about his behavior and quite another to see him up close. The bandages covering his body were a stark reminder of the nightmarish night he fought, and yet he acted as though they were nothing more than scratches.

Nora leaned closer to Pyrrha and whispered, “Okay, no wonder why Yang was trying to hide how she felt.”

Ren nodded solemnly. “Hearing about his relaxed behavior is one thing. Seeing him like this
 it’s clear Crimson is built differently from the rest of us.”

Pyrrha said nothing, her hand tightening on the handle of her cane. Seeing him act so casually despite all the injuries, she knew she wouldn’t be any different from Yang if she was in her place. She felt her words to Yang were hypocritical at best.