Chapter Text
Rumi’s hands nearly fumble with her saingeom sword as she shakily holds it above her head. In the humidity of the Korean countryside, a bead of sweat rolls down her cheek as she kneels before the judgement of Celene. Rumi feels the weight of each and every gravestone mourning the withering Honmoon, the fallen hunters’ eyes bearing on each and every flaw in the barrier.
“Please,” she begs, “Do it”. Her voice breaks into a deep, guttural, demonic tone, and the Honmoon bends under its sound.
The weight of the blade lifts from her hands, along with it, the responsibility to the Honmoon. With it, everything and everyone she loves and cares about.
As she braces for impact, every sound becomes razor sharp. Every rasp of her breath echoes against the damning silence.
Her breaths come too ragged, too quick. White, hot fear strikes lightning through her fingertips. Her- claws. Inhuman, like a foreign appendage sewn to her body. Through a sob, she attempts to swallow the knot of grief lodged in her throat.
She thinks of Mira and Zoey, on the couch of the living room. Their living room. Their home. The scent of ramyeon and popcorn. Late night movies, and songwriting, after-show sleepovers.
She would give anything, anything to talk to them one last time. To apologize for everything. Just to witness them.
Stupidly, pathetically, she weeps. There is nothing to go back to, even if she could. Her poison has infected everything, and endangered everyone.
Her chest screams for air. Aches with want. Hot, wet tears fall down her face, dripping on her thighs. The Honmoon bleeds red beneath her knees, pulsating like a festering wound.
She can’t look up. She knows her mentor is preparing to fulfill her duty to the Honmoon, Korea, her mother, the world. Protecting the world from demons, protecting the world from Rumi.
Rumi cries, her tears betraying her resolve. She grips at the soft flesh of her arm, her fingers desperately ripping at her skin to cut through the noise. With a break in her voice, she sobs, “Celine…”
She tries to lift her head up one last time. To look at the only person she can call a mother.
Searing pain blinds her from behind as her face plunges into the soil.
Rumi awoke with a start, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Her palms, cold and clammy, gripped her sheets like a vise, sweat dripping down her face.
It was just a dream.
She lifted herself to sit at the end of her bed, running her hands through her hair. She took a deep breath, and tried to will her hands to stop shaking.
It’s okay, She thought, It wasn’t real.
Rumi rubbed her face with shaking hands, brushing away the last remnants of the dream. She looked down at her phone. 5:30am. The other hunters were still sleeping. When she focused, she could faintly hear Zoey snoring in the next room. The air was otherwise silent except for the sound of blood rushing in her ears.
Her lungs felt heavy and useless in her chest as she tried to relax her body. Her hand scratched restlessly at her neck, as though if she dug deep enough, she could extract the knot of dread lodged in her veins.
Rumi needed to move, anywhere but here.
Through the apartment, careful not to wake her roommates, she crept. Foot by foot, she padded toward the sparring room, the wood clammy beneath her feet.
She didn’t allow herself to think, only hit. She took the nearest practice dummy and tore into it, not bothering to wrap her hands. Enjoying the sting of her knuckles making contact with the cold leather.
She hit again. And again. With every hit of her fist, she enjoyed the crack of the leather bouncing off the echoey walls. Her muscles burned from the effort, breath flaring in her nostrils like hot fire.
She looked up at the clock.
Mira would definitely be getting up soon. Zoey would try, like always, to sleep in. Mira, like always, would drag her by her feet to eat with her. Their banter always warmed the halls sooner than the rays of daylight. Mira rose like the sun, Zoey, the morning birds. Always together, never one without the other.
Focus, she thought, pushing her thoughts aside. Her chest tightened, something bitter burning at her throat. Rumi forced her fist sharply into the practice dummy.
Ow, she winced as her hand recoiled, having hit the leather at an awkward angle. The tendons in her wrist felt numb, strained. Goddamnit.
Minor injury. Barely painful. Rumi straightened her fist, and plunged it once more into her practice opponent. Her wrist bit back, sending a wave of sickly pain up her arm. Rubbing her arm, she sighed.
Okay fine, she thought with a grimace, dragging the practice dummy back to its corner. You win today.
She gazed down at her hand, observing the faint, shimmering stripes which were enshrined all over her body now. Faintly rainbow colored, sparkly, like she had been drawn on with a glitter pen.
Looking up to the full-body mirrors covering the walls, she studied every angle of her body.
It was odd. She didn’t hate the new appearance of her skin, but she didn’t love it either. It was just, weird. She loathed how they told the world a story for her without permission. She was pretty sure they were invisible to the general public, at least when she was in control. Her marks were visible in the clips circulating the internet after the Idol Awards incident, but there had been no discussions of tattoos in any tabloids.
The important people could see them, though. She hated how visible they were, how little she could hide them if she wanted to. A familiar feeling, small but present nestled like a thorn in her chest.
I wish I was normal.
Rumi walked away to the kitchen, where she could smell the tang of kimchi, and hear the eggs popping in the butter as they cooked on the stove. She felt a smile grow on her face when she saw her roommate’s pink hair, already brushed and put into neat pigtails. She was still wearing her pajamas, purple, polka-dotted with polar bear heads. Mira turned her face to meet Rumi’s gaze.
“Morning,” Rumi said waving, taking a seat at the kitchen island. There was a studying look in Mira’s eye.
“Morning,” she said, “You’re up early.”
There was a question in her voice, Rumi shrugged.
“Yeah,” she said plainly, “I couldn’t stay asleep. Got some training done.”
It was a half truth, and Mira knew it. The question lingered on her eyes, but she changed the subject. Mira took the eggs from the pan, and placed it onto a plate, pushing it towards Rumi.
“Eggs and kimchi?” She asked with a soft smile, “No sides. Feeling too lazy.”
“Sure, thanks,” Rumi said smiling, mouth watering. Without prompting, Mira placed a pale barely-colored mug of steaming tea next to her plate.
Pangs of hunger gripped her stomach at the scent of the cooked eggs. Rumi took a bite and sighed in relief, savoring the salty-spice of the kimchi, and the creamy warmth of the yolk.
“Thanks Mira,” she said through a mouthful of food, “This is perfect.”
“Sure,” Mira said with a smirk in her eyes, “How should I wake up Zoey?”
“I don’t know. Shake her?” Rumi responded. Mira shook her head.
“No. Too easy. I need something devious,” She said, nodding, tapping her chin, “Something evil.”
“You could tell her I’m eating the last Kkokkalcorn,” Rumi said, a mischievous smile growing on her face, walking over to the cabinet, “She’d better hurry, I’m really going to do it.”
“That’s so good!” Mira laughed, already running towards the sleeping hunter. Rumi wasted no time, ripping open the bag as fast as she could.
“DO NOT!”
She heard Zoey’s footsteps frantically chase after her. Rumi laughed and ran in front of the couch. She shoved one, two, three of the salty bugles into her mouth, laughing maliciously. Zoey burst into the living room, her eyes wild, her posture animalistic.
“I’m going to kill you!” She yelled, leaping over the couch at Rumi. Rumi stepped to the side, dodging the attack. She crunched another bugle, scampering backwards, laughter bubbling out of her mouth in-between bites. Zoey lunged at her, trying and failing to grab ahold of her torso. In her effort to dodge, Rumi felt her balance sway. She pursued Mira who stood by the counter, watching, amused.
“Help me!” Rumi said urgently, reaching for Mira as she stumbled forward. The pink-haired girl took a sip of her green tea.
“You’re on your own. She’s rabid,” She said with a smirk.
“Betrayal!” Rumi shouted as she was knocked off her feet from behind. Zoey used her weight to drag her to the cold floor. Rumi turned her body around to face her, her hands still clutching the bag, lifting it as far away from Zoey as she could. Zoey straddled her torso. Under Rumi’s skin, something black and squirming wriggled through her ribcage.
Zoey frantically clawed for the bag, using one hand to force Rumi’s arm into the smooth linoleum.
Rumi’s vision goes black in the corners of her eyes. Hot panic burns in her finger tips, her grasp on the bag falters as she freezes, shaking.
I can’t move! She struggles under Zoey’s position, a tear escaping from her eyes, “S-stop!” She says, voice rising. Zoey continues to reach for the snack above her head, although Rumi’s hand has gone limp.
Zoey’s breathing is ragged as she strains, her breath animalistic. Hungry. The scent of her, chocolate-sweet, envelops Rumi. Suffocating her. Her injured wrist shoots painful bolts of electricity through her arm as she struggles to wriggle free.
“GET OFF!” Rumi’s voice cries out, like a whip. She feels her cry shudder through the Honmoon. All at once the tone of the room changes, ugly sobs threatening to burst out of her mouth through desperate gasps for air.
She flails her arms, shoving at Zoey’s thighs. Zoey stumbles backward. She continues to shove, and kick, trying desperately to get away. Anywhere. Away from Zoey. She keeps scrambling backward, long after she feels Zoey’s weight release entirely.
Rumi jumps to her feet, hot tears running down her face without permission. She continues to back up, away. Away from the girls who look afraid, afraid to come closer, their eyes piercing into her.
Away, she thinks, I need to get away.
“Sorry. I can’t- um-“ She stops, her voice breaking, “I have to- uh-“.
She holds her hands over her face defensively, pushing past her friends towards the sanctity of her room. She runs through her door, and struggles to lock it behind her.
Once she hears the latch, something snaps in her chest. She is at once submerged in the murky waters of a flash flood of emotion, each of her lungs burning like aching limbs. She tries to swim to the surface, and opens her mouth to take in air. She’s choking. There’s only water. Just water.
She bites down on her arm, attempting to muffle the sound. Her cries don’t stop. Pain barely cuts through the noise in her skull.
Brief snapshots of sensations from the Idol Awards hurtle into her like bullets of hail. Her shoulders shudder, waves of terror ricocheting through her body, all of her limbs twitching uncontrollably. Each flash is more and more real, almost as vivid as experiencing it. The roar of the crowd, “Takedown” bearing down on her through the speakers. Her body carrying her through the song as if she were a wind-up toy.
A hand shoves her backward, and someone pushes her forward again from behind. Her jacket is on the ground, her arms bare. Cries of terror swarm her like flies, the girls circling her like vultures. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Ugly, awful purple marks coating every inch of her body. She’s desperately running down the stairs. To anywhere else.
Each image comes like a wave, spitting her out, and pulling her under. Spitting her out, and pulling her under. She tries to swim, but finds she is pinned by the current.
She hears a knock on the door.
“Rumi…?” She heard a voice behind her. Mira. Another knock.
Her tears felt hot against her face, the wooden floor cold against her shaking fingertips. She shook her head back and forth.
She heard another knock, softer this time. A voice, loud but gentle. Zoey.
“Rumi?” She said through the door, “I’m super sorry- I didn’t know-“
There was a hushed voice that interrupted her, and she responded in a quieter tone.
“Sorry. Um- look you totally don’t have to- but-“
“Listen. We care about you,” Mira said, calmer, “Can you let us in?”
Rumi tried for her voice, but choked on another hiccup for air. Surrendering, she knocked on the door to say yes.
Shakily, she stood to her feet, and unlatched the door. She stepped away from her door to sit on her bed, gaze locked on the floor. Their footsteps enter, careful, and deliberate.
Her body cowered away from their gaze.
She felt Zoey’s hand touch her, and she flinched away. She put her hand out in front of her, unable to get the words ‘not now’ to leave her mouth.
Oh god, I’m a mess, she thought, Why did I let them in?
“Zoey, show Rumi some of your turtles,” she heard Mira’s deep voice beside her. There was a shuffle before a phone was plopped into her hand.
“I don’t have any fun facts today,” Zoey said tightly, “Here’s just a plain-old box turtle.”
Through blurry eyes, she looked down at the phone to see a small turtle tucked in his shell. He was green with thick black stripes eating chunks of pink dragonfruit.
“Cute,” Rumi rasped, realizing her breath had slowed enough to speak. She blinked the last of the tears from her eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck. She straightened her back and attempted to find a level of composure, heat flushing her face with embarrassment. Her mouth froze, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“Are you… okay?” Mira asked, concern clouding her tone. Rumi felt the warmth of her friend’s body heat as she sat next to Rumi.
She flinched as Mira laid a hand on her back, which left as quickly as it came.
“Sorry,” Mira said with a questioning tone, “What’s… what happened out there? You look like you saw…”
Silence quickly fell over Mira.
“A demon,” Rumi said with a small laugh, genuine. She was finally able to look up towards Mira, who was deer-in-headlights still. Rumi smirked, meeting Mira’s wide-eyed gaze, “You know you can say it- right?”
Mira exhaled, eyes still wide, but less tense.
“Yeah, a demon,” She chuckled, picking at her fingers, “But yeah- what was that?”
Rumi froze, her mouth dry and useless as she looked for an explanation. She turned her face to meet Zoey, who looked like she was going to implode. Her deep brown eyes were wide, brimming with tears, and urgent. The maknae was anxiously biting her nails, her other arm hugging her waist. Her gray pajama shirt was clenched tightly into a ball.
“Zoey,” Rumi said softly, reaching her hand out as an offering. Zoey tenderly landed her warm fingertips into her palm. When Rumi opened her arms and motioned for her to come closer, her friend plowed into her, tightly hugging her ribcage. Rumi felt something dark and awful swirl in her stomach.
Chill out, she thought, It’s Zoey.
“I’m sorry!” Zoey burst out finally, making Rumi’s shirt wet with tears, “I didn’t really want the chips that bad I was just-“
Rumi shushed her, and ran her fingers through Zoey’s hair. Zoey looked up at her, looking absolutely, adorably, pathetic. Her eyes were red from crying, tears and snot streaking her flushed face.
“Zoey, it’s okay,” she laughed, squeezing her face, “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Okay,” Zoey said through tears, nodding, “Okay. I’m sorry.”
Rumi remained silent as she stroked Zoey’s hair. The room held an unanswered question, and she sighed.
“I’m sorry. I don’t really know what that was, it just-“ She paused, trying to articulate, “Something came over me. I don’t know why.”
“Was it like… a flashback? To the fight?” Mira asked.
“The fight?” She asked, looking at Mira.
“The Idol Awards, fighting with Gwi-Ma, or you know. Any part of it.”
The implication laid heavy in the room, because of course Mira was talking about the three of them behind the stage. Divided. Scared.
“I don't know, maybe,” She shrugged, trying to shake the night from her head. It wasn’t that big of a deal, not enough to be having flashbacks, or panic attacks, or whatever.
It could have been the fight with Gwi-Ma, probably, definitely was.
Her throat bobbed, a branch of sadness dappling her chest.
“I’m fine, I think it’s just an off day,” She said reassuringly, placing her hand on Mira’s. Rumi stood still under Mira’s searching, skeptical gaze. Mira’s pink lips were pursed tightly, as if she wanted to speak more, but was restraining herself.
Rumi pulled Mira into the hug, and felt her melt against her side. Her gut churned as if she were motion-sick. She tapped Zoey’s back, and pushed herself to stand up.
“Alright, breakfast is getting cold,” Rumi said with a smile, “Let’s go.”
In the kitchen, the room hummed with light conversation as Rumi poked at the remainder of the food on her plate, what she had eaten earlier now feeling as heavy as rocks. Her throat felt tight as she forced herself to drink the tea in front of her that had since gone cold.
“I think I’m gonna get dressed,” Rumi said, making sure to sound casual, “I’ll bag this up when I get back.”
Rumi stepped off of the stool, and went to her room, only allowing her shoulders to relax when she returned to her sanctuary, where there were no eyes, no knowing looks. In her mirror, she could see her eyes were still red from having cried, her braid frizzy and no longer kempt.
The Honmoon had rippled.
It can do that? She thought, biting her nails, It can’t do that.
The point of the Idol Awards was to turn the Honmoon gold, making a barrier so thick it would be impenetrable. Not just that night, but for good. This couldn’t be happening because if it was…
It meant she failed.
There were flashes of gold in the audience that night, just glimpses. Later, when the trio re-sealed it, it took on a more rainbow hue. Did the Honmoon need to be literally gold? Was their barrier not enough?
It was the first time that happened since the fight with Gwi-Ma. Which meant it could happen again. And then all of that was for- what?
She finger-combed the end of her braid, chewing on her lip.
It had been two weeks since the Idol Awards, and there was no sign of any demon, not so much as a flicker in the Honmoon. Then she lost her grip, and the Honmoon strained.
She was the only entity on this side of the barrier who could affect it. Or threaten it.
Which meant Rumi needed to get it together.
She undid her hair, and used her fingers to coax out the knots. Piece by piece, she redid her braid until it looked concert-ready, pristine.
“Let’s do this,” She said, reaching for her phone.
Hi Bobby. I know we’re on a break, but when do you think we can chat about next steps for Huntr/x? I want to get ahead of the public.
Sent.
———————————
“No rice?” chided Zoey incredulously.
“Nope,” Mira said, popping the ‘p’, “There’s rice in the freezer.”
Zoey groaned, “But it’s not the saaaaaame,”.
“Tough,” She smirked, playfully pushing Zoey’s face back by her forehead. She felt a pull, in her chest, a longing to kiss the girl on her temple. She was so irresistible, with her scrunched-up freckled face, her hair adorably frizzed from sleep. Instead, Mira turned to the boiler to reheat the water, “Tea, or hot chocolate?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Zoey laughed, passing her a specially-imported package of Swiss Miss with marshmallows.
“I don’t know how you drink this,” Mira said, “It’s just chocolate water. You don’t even add milk.”
“That’s why it’s good,” Zoey nodded, as if it made sense. Mira rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She turned the boiler off, and poured the steaming liquid into the cup. She attempted to dissolve the brown powder into the hot water, but it just clotted uselessly against her spoon.
“That’s fine,” Zoey said, reaching for the cup. Mira raised an eyebrow, but passed the blue cup to her. Zoey took a sip, but looked to the side, pensive.
“That bad, huh?” She asked, probing. Zoey shrugged, keeping the cup at her lips, as if it could shield the clouds of guilt in her eyes. Mira frowned, and turned to look for the stir wand. “Here,” She said firmly, holding her hand out for the cup.
With a reluctant look, Zoey passed her the cup, seeming to shrink in on herself in avoidance of Mira’s gaze. Mira turned towards the cup, pumping the wand until each of the clumps had been dissolved. When the cup looked palatable, she turned it back to the younger girl. Zoey wouldn't meet her gaze, but gave a small smile as she took the cup.
“Thanks,” She said, lifting the cocoa to her lips, taking a small sip. Mira turned back to the cabinet and grabbed two plates, one green, one a pale red. In the freezer, she reached for two patties of rice. She splashed some water on Zoey’s rice, and heated the red plate in the microwave.
Mira fumbled with her words, not wanting to scare off the girl with emotional honesty. She feared that if she even looked at her, Zoey would shrink into herself and become untouchable.
“You don’t have to feel bad, you know,” She said slowly, “It happened, but… you didn’t mean to scare her.”
Zoey responded with silence, Mira hearing a gentle tap as the cocoa returned to the counter.
“You made me rice?” Zoey asked tightly, as though the girl was trying not to cry. Mira turned around to meet her eyes, and gave a soft smile.
“Yeah. Because I love you, dummy,” she said, poking Zoey on the forehead, surprising herself with her forwardness. Zoey’s somber face cracked with amusement, her hand pushing Mira’s finger away.
“Don’t do that- your nails are too sharp,” Zoey laughed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Mira smirked, turning to fetch the food from the microwave. She grabbed the eggs from the stove and warmed them for 30 more seconds.
Zoey took the eggs, and began to stir at her rice. She paused, and lifted a bite to her mouth, nodding with enjoyment.
“Thank god you cooked today, Mir. My plan was dry cereal- straight out of the box.”
Mira shook her head, “For… breakfast? Is that filling?”
Zoey shook her head, "Absolutely not.”
Mira ruffled the top of Zoey’s black hair. The corners of Zoey’s smile tried to inch forwards, but were pulled down by the gravity of something dark in her expression. Zoey turned her face back towards the door at the end of the living room. Rumi’s room.
“I’m going to talk to her,” Said Zoey, simply, resolute.
“No,” Mira shook her head, frowning, “We can’t. You know how she gets.”
Zoey bit her nail, eyes not leaving the door. The younger girl, usually exuberant and full of conversation, fell dangerously still. Dark clouds swirled over her turbulent eyes, something deeper than guilt behind them.
“We turned our weapons on her,” Zoey said in a hushed voice, her statement piercing Mira through her lungs.
The statement fell like an arrow, lodged between her ribs.
“I-“ She tried, the words falling dead in her throat. Unable to speak it to truth.
We did. I did.
The silence held heavy between the two of them, eyes not leaving Rumi’s door. Mira’s face felt numb and heavy, every word she could think of to say, useless.
Her big, stupid mouth. Her terrible hot-headed impulses. All the things that had always driven her from every person on the planet had once again hurt someone she loved. Everyone she loved.
All because she was scared. Of losing her family. Of Rumi’s secrets, of her demonic patterns, her possible ties to Jinu. The way the Honmoon strained and tore when Rumi cried.
And of Zoey, who she abandoned that night, for what?
She betrayed them both because she was a coward.
Mira didn’t know what to say to Zoey, or to Rumi. ‘Sorry’ wasn’t good enough. ‘Sorry’ didn’t un-abandon and un-damage those she hurt.
“I was-” she froze, a well of emotion creeping up her throat, “Terrible. To… both of you. I’m so sorry Zoey,”
Zoey shook her head.
“Whatever about me. It’s not about me,” Zoey snapped, flaring her nostrils.
Mira internally flinched, the harshness of Zoey’s voice catching her off guard.
“We can’t… I can’t abandon her. Not again,” Zoey said sternly, frowning, eyes refusing to meet Mira’s.
“Look…” Mira trailed off, unsure of what to say. She took a deep breath, rubbing the back of her neck. “She hates being cornered,” she settled on finally, “You know what I’m saying?”
Zoey nodded, her brown eyes studying her face. Mira’s heart beat in her chest, palms sweating. Every part of her wanted to run, before Zoey could see through her with her damning gaze.
“I really, really fucked up with Rumi,” Mira continued, face hot with emotion.
And you, she swallowed, hoping Zoey understood what she meant to say. She continued, “I pushed too hard, I should have-”
Mira felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, followed by the warm embrace of her friend. Mira loosened at the touch, her lip trembling a moment as she looked forward.
“We still need to talk to her,” Zoey said, softer, into her side.
“You don’t think I want to?” Mira added gazing longingly towards her door, “We… If… She’ll run. You know she will.”
“Yeah,” Zoey sighed, pulling in Mira tighter.
A moment passed between the two before Mira stepped away to make her plate. The air between them was warm, but the absence of Rumi lingered like a cold draft.
If you stay, she thought to herself, This time I won’t let you down.