[POV: Cardin Winchester]
—Three Years Ago—
Rain hammered the shadowed streets of Mistral's commercial district, turning alleys into rivers and neon signs into smeared streaks of light. Thunder cracked above, and the storm howled like some furious gods. Beneath the flickering glow of a broken streetlamp, two figures stood locked in silent confrontation.
One of them—a young man—was on his knees.
Drenched, bruised, and barely conscious, he gasped for air. Ginger hair clung to his forehead, and his bloodshot blue eyes struggled to stay open. His torn black shirt, soaked in rain and blood, clung to his body. Mud covered his orange tracksuit pants, marked by twin black stripes, and his battered sneakers looked ready to fall apart.
That young adolescent was Cardin Winchester, second son of Morrison Winchester—once heir to Winchester Inc.
Now, he was just... angry.
Not the anger of a spoiled, immature brat who got offended from a cliche novels, but a pure, unfiltered fury—toward one man.
Across from him stood a man—calm, poised, and seemingly untouched by the storm. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember glowing like a quiet threat. He exhaled slowly, eyes sharp and calculating.
???: "Interesting," he said, voice cool and detached.
His gaze moved over young adolescent Cardin like he was dissecting something rare.
Gun: "I always thought Eli Jang was the only one with real potential. But you… the fallen Winchester... To think you'd land a blow that left me a scar—only with your Talent and Aura, even though your Semblance hasn't manifested yet. Very impressive."
The man was tall and lean, muscles chiseled beneath a bare chest riddled with old scars—the newest a bleeding slash across his torso. Tattoos marked both of his forearms. His hair was shaved on the sides, slicked back on top. But it was his notable scar between his eyes that drew attention: pitch black, glowing with pale white irises.
A manifestation of a rare, terrifying state he called Ultra Instinct—a power apart from his Semblance. One he rarely needed.
Cardin's knuckles dug into the soaked asphalt as he spat blood into the gutter, trying to rise.
Cardin (gasping, furious): "Shut… your… disgusting mouth!"
Gun grinned, more amused than insulted.
He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling in the rain like a serpent.
Gun: "The fact that you're still talking... says a lot. Most don't even crawl after I'm done."
This man was Gun Yamazaki, known in Mantle's underworld as Shiro Oni—The White Demon. The infamous right hand of Charles Choi, and the half-blooded son of the dreaded Yamazaki Clan.
He was also the one who had hunted down and destroyed the Hostel Crew—a ragtag family of orphans and runaway fams who survived off a simple food stall and janitorial gigs while trying to make a life in the kingdom of Mistral, despite its dangers.
The very man who destroyed them.
Gun: "As a favor to the dead man… I'll spare your life along with the rest of Hostel. Whether you want revenge or not—that's your problem. I look forward to our next meeting, young Winchester. がんばれ. (T/N:Good luck.)"
He paused, narrowing his eyes for just a moment.
Gun (quietly, almost to himself): "You remind me of him... too much."
With a final glance, he turned and disappeared into the rain—leaving Cardin bloodied, broken, and alone.
Cardin (weakly shouting): "Come back! You bastard—this isn't over! I'll get my revenge… for them...!"
But his strength gave out. He collapsed, face-first, into the mud.
The rain masked his tears.
Somewhere nearby, a voice screamed his name—a blur in the storm—as a figure sprinted toward him.
???: "Cardin! Hold on—don't close your eyes, dammit!"
Then everything went black.
---
[Present Day – Beacon Academy Dormitory, After the events of Forever Fall]
Cardin shot upright in bed, gasping. His chest heaved, sweat clinging to his skin.
Another nightmare.
No—a memory.
He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing. The bitterness never faded.
Cardin (to himself, muttering): "It's fine, Cardin. Just a bad memory. Forget it. Move on. No need to dwell…"
But he knew that was a lie.
Some wounds didn't close. They just bled quieter.
The alarm clock read 7:20 AM.
Time to get ready for another day at Beacon Academy—a place where most trained to fight the monsters known as Grimm, to become Huntsmen and Huntresses who protect the world. A place for bonds—friends, family, and lovers.
For Cardin, it was an escape.
A prison with nicer walls.
A place to run from a past soaked in guilt, shame, and failure—the failure to avenge the only people he ever truly called family:
"The Hostel Crew."
And his mother—still in a coma after that White Fang attack incident at Vale during his childhood.
He sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant hum of the academy, the muffled sounds of early risers going about their morning routines.
The weight never left him. He lived with it. Slept with it. Woke up drowning in it.
Across the dorm room, someone stirred.
Sky Lark, his teammate. His best friend. His brother in all but blood, lay silently in his bed. Eyes half-open. Listening.
He'd heard it all.
.
Sky (softly, to himself): "You can't outrun the past forever, Cardin. One day, you'll face him again. I just hope... your guilt doesn't eat you alive first."
And so, the members of Team CRDL carried on—studying, training, sparring, preparing for the upcoming Vytal Festival. Where students from different huntsman academies from other kingdoms had gathered to participate in a tournament to prove themselves. But also a place where they had time to live. Laugh. Breathe.
But soon, someone from Cardin's past...
Was already on their way.
To finish what was started.
Will he be able to face the past that made him to what he is today?
[Chapter End]
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A/N: Yep...A RWBY fanfiction with some lookism elements on it and it would be more focused on the Cardin Winchester himself since most of RWBY fanfiction are mainly focused on Jaune Arc, OC, or Self Insert...