Team SAFF: A RWBY Story

Character Short: Hannah Dust

My story begins with a tragedy, as so many in Remnant do. I was only five when it happened. My birth parents and I were traveling back to our village after a trip to the market. It was supposed to be just another routine day. But then the Grimm came. I remember the ground shaking beneath our feet, the deafening roars that filled the air, and the terror in my mother's eyes as she tried to shield me. My father fought as best as he could, but it wasn't enough. The last thing I remember was my mother's arms around me, her voice whispering that she loved me, and then... darkness.

I survived. Somehow, amidst the chaos, I was found and pulled from the wreckage by a Huntsman passing through the area. I was alone, with no family left to take me in. The loss of my parents left me numb, a shell of the girl I used to be.

But fate had other plans. I was adopted by the Sapphire family, who lived in Vale. They took me in, fed me, and clothed me, but more importantly, they gave me love. My step-parents, Joni and Samson Sapphire, were kind people. They treated me like their own daughter, never once making me feel like an outsider. And then there was Tory, my step-sister. She was eight years older than me, and from the moment I met her, I idolized her.

Tory was everything I wasn't—strong, confident, and brave. She had dreams of becoming a Huntress, and I knew she would achieve them. She was my hero, my protector, and as I grew older, she became my best friend. When she turned sixteen, she was accepted into Beacon Academy. I remember how proud I was of her, how I couldn't wait to hear about all the adventures she'd have. Every time she came home for a break, she would tell me stories of her time at Beacon, of the training, the missions, and her teammates.

I'll never forget the first time she brought them home. Ivan Saxe, Angie Tevar, and Naomi Becket—each of them so different, yet they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Ivan, with his calm and collected demeanor; Angie, always quick with a joke; and Naomi, whose quiet strength reminded me so much of Tory. They were like an extension of my family, and they treated me like a little sister.

As the years passed, Tory grew stronger. I watched her train, pushing herself to the limit. When she graduated and became a full-fledged Huntress, I couldn't have been prouder. She was everything I aspired to be—courageous, selfless, and dedicated to protecting others. But with that pride came fear. I knew the dangers that came with her line of work. I knew that every mission could be her last.

And then, one day, the unthinkable happened.

I was thirteen when Professor Ozpin came to our home. The moment I saw him standing at the door, his face solemn, I knew. He didn't have to say anything; I could see the truth in his eyes. Tory was gone. She had died on a mission, alongside her team.

I can still hear my mother's sobs, see the pain in my father's eyes. But me? I felt... nothing. It was as if the world had turned to ash around me. I had lost my sister, my hero, and with her, any sense of hope I had left.

I spiraled after that. Grief consumed me, turning into a cold, hard rage. I didn't care about anything or anyone. I didn't care about my future, about what Tory would have wanted for me. I just wanted the pain to stop. And so, I did the only thing I could think of—I ran. I left my home, my family, and I disappeared into the underbelly of Vale. I became a ghost, surviving in the shadows, doing whatever it took to get by.

That's when I fell in with the Spider syndicate, run by Lil' Miss Malachite. I took on dirty jobs, the kind of work that would make most people shudder. Theft, smuggling, intimidation—you name it, I did it. I buried my grief under layers of bitterness and anger, convincing myself that this was the only way to survive. The only way to keep the memories at bay.

But no matter how far I ran, no matter how deep I sank into that world, I couldn't escape the past. I couldn't escape Tory. Every night, I dreamed of her—of her smile, her laugh, and the way she'd ruffle my hair whenever she saw me. And every morning, I woke up with the same hollow ache in my chest.

Years passed, and I grew harder, colder. I shut out the world, trusting no one, caring for nothing. And then, Beacon fell. I watched the news, saw the destruction, the chaos, and for the first time in a long while, I felt something other than anger. I felt fear. Fear for the people who were still out there, still fighting. Fear for the Huntsmen and Huntresses who had once been like family to me.

And then, amidst the reports of devastation and loss, I heard something that shook me to my core. Ivan Saxe—someone I thought had died alongside my sister—was alive.

It was like a spark had been lit inside me, one that I had long thought extinguished. Ivan was alive. He had survived, just as I had. And if he was still out there, still fighting, maybe there was hope for me too.

So now, here I am, standing at the crossroads of my life. The grief, the pain, the anger—they're still there, but so is something else. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

Hope.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I'll ever find peace, or if the wounds of my past will ever truly heal. But I do know one thing—I'm not done fighting. Not yet. For Tory, for Ivan, for the people I've lost, and for the person I want to become.

My name is Hannah Dust, and my story isn't over. It's just beginning.