Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hybrid Animals and Why They Are Really Cool

By Zoey Choi

9 years old

Mrs. Brown's 2nd Grade Science Class

~~~

Rumi was hiding something.

She had no idea how she was possibly going to explain this.

Pulling the bath towel tighter around her, she stared in the full-length bathroom mirror, willing the vision to change.

The long, fluffy, purple tiger tail remained in view, swishing lazily behind her.

It had already been enough of a challenge after her pattern reveal to try to pass those off as a mix of a skin condition and tattoos. How were they going to get people to write off a tail as something a normal person has?

I'm going to need to have all my clothes altered… this can't be happening!

Zoey popped up beside her in the mirror. “Don't worry Ruru, it's already super popular.”

Rumi screeched in surprise. “ZOEY! What ar-”

“Sick as hell.” Mira popped out from between the bathrobes hanging on the wall. “Is it soft?” Mira swiped at the tail and Rumi grabbed it, pulling it tight to her chest.

Mira pouted and crossed her arms, still staring greedily at the tail.

“Good news girls!” In an explosion of water, Bobby burst up from the toilet. “Rumi Tiger Tail toys are a hit, we've sold millions!”

Mira and Zoey cheered, throwing confetti in the air.

“Now hurry up girls, you're late for a concert!”

Rumi spun in circles as Mira gave up her confetti tossing, trying desperately to keep her new fluffy appendage out of Mira's reach. The dancer's arms were too long, and she grinned as she caught her prize, gearing up for a mighty yank, when-

An instrumental version of Golden blasted from the phone near her head, jolting Rumi awake.

Half trapped by the sheets, Rumi fumbled with the device before managing to shut her morning alarm off.

The blankets on either side of her were rumpled but cool–no signs of her girlfriends. She recalled them telling her they had early morning plans, but giving only vague details.

Which meant they were up to something.

Given the date, Rumi suspected they were out getting supplies to celebrate her birthday sometime later today.

Before meeting Mira and Zoey, Rumi hadn't done much to mark the occasion outside of Celine making her a huge bowl of miyeok-guk and giving her a couple of gifts. Any thoughts of celebration were dampened by the anniversary of her mother's death only a few days later.

Once the other two Hunters had joined them at the compound, Zoey especially had insisted on having full birthday parties for all of them. These always included a cake with overly-sweet frosting, candles, as many balloons as she could fit in a vehicle, and gifts wrapped in bright paper.

At 25, she was two years older than her mother would ever be.

When Rumi was a child, Celine would play Sunlight Sisters music for her before bed, letting her mother sing her to sleep. Rumi had watched every interview, seen every photo, listened to every sound clip–grasping at fragments of a person she could never truly know. Around the time Mi-yeong fell pregnant with Rumi, the public videos and photos dried up. The K-pop industry wasn’t kind to unwed mothers with no father in sight.

Celine had given Rumi a handful of Polaroids from that time; one a faded photo of her mother with Celine, who lay a hand over the small curve of her bandmate's abdomen; a candid shot with Mi-yeong heavily pregnant, napping on a sofa, her belly heavy in her lap; another candid photo of her, exhausted and triumphant, holding a tiny purple-haired infant against her bare chest, face streaked with tears and sweat.

Mi-yeong was forever frozen in time, the last months of her life collected in half a dozen photos. It never felt less strange to know she'd outlived the woman who'd given birth to her.

Would it feel less strange at 30? At 60? Would she always feel the weight of her mother's lost years?

Rumi shook her head of the pensive thoughts, sitting up slowly.

She had always been a morning person, up with the sun well before her phone could wake her.

Lately, though, the alarm had been catching her more and more.

She was probably just catching up on sleep. Despite her attempts to do just that, her fatigue only seemed to be increasing. She'd been relying on a mixture of caffeine and stubbornness to keep her energy throughout the day.

What concerned her more than the tiredness was the pain plaguing her.

Rumi began a series of slow stretches, forcing life back into her stiff joints. As she stood and folded into a toe touch, she did her best to ignore the jolts of pain running through her neck and shoulders.

Pain wasn’t new.

Not for a Hunter.

The physical demands of being a Hunter on top of being a leader in the K-pop industry were no joke, so it wasn’t a surprise that she’d be a bit sore at times.

Stress always made pain worse, and Rumi certainly had her fair share of that over the last year.

She also suspected her patterns were involved with the pain, as it had gotten worse as they'd spread. Rumi had hoped that sealing the Honmoon would resolve some of the symptoms.

Really, a little pain, stiffness, and fatigue wasn't anything to be concerned about. It all came with the territory.

Except–

Except that they were no longer hunting, and she was still hurting.

Except that the Honmoon had been sealed four months ago, and the aching stiffness had gotten worse.

Except that they were on their break, visiting the bathhouse as often as they could, more relaxed than she’d ever been in her life, and the fatigue seemed to claw at her more each morning.

Rumi had promised her bandmates that she would stop hiding things.

She wasn’t hiding though.

She wasn’t.

Not really.

Because it was going to resolve on its own. She just needed a little more rest, a few more stretches, another visit to the bathhouse.

It would just take a little more time.

She finished stretching, rubbing the stiffness from her fingers as she padded barefoot to the bathroom.

Time was something she finally had.

No more threat of a demon apocalypse looming over her head. No more constant concerts to shore up a weakened Honmoon. No more late night patrols of Seoul, striking down demons before they could feast. No more hiding, covering, holding back, fearing she was one mistake from losing everything.

She grabbed a couple of painkillers from the cabinet and swallowed them with a handful of water from the sink. Her hands shook as she brought the water to her mouth.

Rumi had time. She could finally focus on something other than faults and fears, and she intended to focus on things that mattered.

She'd be feeling better in a couple of weeks, tops.

~~~

A hybrid is when two different species or kinds of animals make a baby together. There are lots of different kinds of hybrids! I’m going to tell you about some of them and why they are cool. I think by the end you’ll agree!

~~~

Rumi was hiding something.

Which was absolute bullshit, given everything they’d gone through 8 months ago.

Mira had come to terms with why Rumi had lied. She could understand the reasoning behind it, even if it was faulty, and Rumi understood why it hurt Mira so badly.

Not that she’d come to terms with it overnight–one magical concert didn’t fix years of deception. It had taken a LOT of talking to work through. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey had stayed up until sunrise more than once in the days after the Idol Awards fiasco. There had been tears, tissues, soju, kisses, confessions, promises.

Mira had thought they were all ready to be truly open with each other.

So the fact that Rumi was hiding something again was both deeply concerning and pissing her off.

Because she believed Rumi when she said she wanted to do better.

Because she loved her, trusted her, adored her.

And because Rumi hid when she was scared.

So what is she afraid of?

Her patterns were in the open. They'd expressed their feelings for each other. The Honmoon was sealed and stable. There were no more demons out stealing souls on the streets. She’s been rebuilding her relationship with Celine. They were doing shows across Korea, and planning a world tour that was starting in a few months.

Everything was going smoothly as far as Mira could see, but Rumi was scared.

As Mira had scrutinized her more closely, she'd seen the cracks in the walls.

She'd seen fear in her eyes when Mira noted that Rumi seemed stiff at choreography practice.

Slight hesitation in her normally confident movements.

Wincing at a twist, a bend, a pose.

Unease in her laughter when teased for going to bed early and oversleeping again.

Tremors in her hands, passed off as low blood sugar.

Zoey noticed as well, sharing her concerns with Mira.

People underestimated Zoey, assuming the bubbly and easily distracted young maknae was oblivious. She was cute and young, and people concluded that also meant naive and foolish.

They were wrong.

Zoey was as sharp as her lyrics. She was just more likely to observe, to internalize, to try to offer support without a confrontation.

Mira, on the other hand, didn’t mind a little confrontation.

She found her at the kitchen table, having breakfast with Zoey. Somehow Zoey had managed to get her hooked on overly-sugary American cereal brands, and they both indulged once a week. Mira preferred slightly fewer neon chemical colors in her food, and always passed on their offers to join in a bowl.

“Rumi.”

Rumi looked up from her cereal, spoon halfway to her mouth. Zoey continued to inhale her own bowl, but her eyes flicked to Mira.

“We need to talk.”

The half-demon’s spoon sank back down into her bowl, colorful marshmallows floating back out into the milk. Her whole body tensed, a nervous smile on her face. “That’s ominous, but okay.”

Zoey looked between Rumi and Mira, concerned. She’d likely already figured out what Mira wanted to chat about.

“You’re hiding something. Again.”

“Mira, no, I-”

“Rumi. Please don’t lie.” She sighed, willing herself to remain calm and steady. “Zoey and I have both noticed.”

Zoey smiled at Rumi, gentle and empathetic. “You’ve just been a bit off lately. At practice, at home.”

“We aren’t mad about it, we’re just worried. We just want to know what’s going on.”

Rumi’s face was carved from stone, cracking at the edges.

Mira watched Zoey reach for Rumi’s trembling hand, moving as if she was a feral cat she didn’t want to spook. Rumi still jumped at the contact, but didn’t pull away. Zoey ran a thumb over one of the patterns on the back of her hand. “Is it your patterns? Are they making you sick? Hurting you?”

Rumi clasped Zoey’s hand. The cracks spread, the walls crumbled.

Mira and Zoey waited.

Rumi’s gaze turned down to her cereal. “Um.”

Plip.

Mira’s eyes flicked down.

Something had dripped into Rumi’s milk, sending a ripple across the bowl. Then another.

Tears.

“Yeah. I don’t…” Rumi looked back up, eyes wet and afraid.

Mira had been prepared for a confrontation. For Rumi to either snap defensively or shut down and insist everything was fine. She hadn't been prepared for the broken face looking back at her.

A quiet dread began to grow in her chest.

This is bad.

She and Zoey swept into their girlfriend at the same time, pressing her between their warm bodies. Mira wrapped her arms around both of them, trying to keep her heart steady. She needed to let Rumi talk.

Rumi continued, shaking. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to hide it, I just thought it would get better.”

Mira kissed her forehead, running a hand over her back as Zoey whispered comfortingly in her ear.

“Jagiya it’s okay, you’re telling us now.” Mira soothed. “It will all be okay, we just need to know what’s going on.”

“I hurt. I hurt all the time.” Rumi squeezed her eyes shut, “I thought it would get better after everything but it hasn’t, it just keeps getting worse. And I’m so tired, and tired of hurting. And…”

Her voice grew even quieter.

“M-my period stopped.” Her voice shook. “It’s been three months.”

The dread in Mira’s chest rose, thick bile that burned up the back of her throat.

Zoey shot a fearful look at Mira, and she swallowed her feelings down. She needed to stay calm, level-headed. She needed to be able to think.

That wasn't good. Mira wasn't a doctor, but the combination of symptoms sounded like a lot of bad things.

But it could also be nothing. She's been overworking herself for years, maybe it's all catching up at once.

Rumi looked at them, wringing her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

The bags under her eyes were dark against her slightly too pale skin.

Focus on Rumi, worry later.

“Thank you for telling us, babe. I can set up an appointment with Dr. Jung, would that be okay?”

Rumi nodded.

“And it could be something minor. Maybe it's low iron!” Zoey noted. “That happened to someone in my high school once. She kept passing out in gym class, was tired all the time, super irregular periods.”

Mira could see the flicker of hope in Rumi’s eyes, the way she latched onto Zoey’s words. “Yeah?”

“Yup, she had to start taking these big iron pills and eating lots of red meat and spinach and stuff.” Zoey gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. “We can have burgers every night!”

Rumi and Mira both groaned, and Zoey waved a hand to dismiss their complaints.

“And we can come with you to see Dr. Jung, and get boba tea after!” Zoey added, brightly. “I'll make sure they put super extra tapioca in yours. In fact, I’ll have them fill a five gallon bucket with it. We could use it for everything! Boba on ice cream. Boba in cereal. Boba in the bathtub.”

Rumi chuckled wetly.

Mira was forever grateful for Zoey's ability to lift a mood. She knew it was, in part, a defense mechanism from her childhood. Covering fear with positivity and acting as a mediator in a household torn in two. It was also just who Zoey was–sunshine bursting through the storm clouds.

Mira squeezed all three of them into a tight hug. “Zoey’s right. You've always been super healthy, and we have Honmoon healing on our side. We don't need to worry yet.”

She still tasted bile in the back of her throat.

Zoey kissed Rumi's cheek. “It'll be okay, I promise.”

~~~

Most people know a hybrid animal already. It’s the mule! A mule is a cross between a horse and a donkey. Mules have been around for a long time. Mules are great because they are stronger and healthier than horses or donkeys. They are SUPER tough. This is called hybrid vigor. I’ll talk more about that later. First I’ll talk about other kinds of hybrids.

~~~

Two months.

Two months of unknowns, anxiety, and waiting.

Two months of going with Rumi for more and more invasive testing.

Two months of watching them take blood samples, hook her up to machines, take more of her blood, poke and prod and hurt her, take even more blood samples. Rumi had been X-rayed, CT scanned, MRI-ed and who knows what else. If Zoey had to watch Rumi's scared face disappear into another scanning machine she was going to scream.

Dr. Jung still really hadn't told them anything, stating over and over that she wanted to ensure she knew what was going on and not speculate based on limited results.

Regardless of Zoey's subtle or not-so-subtle attempts to try to get the professional to leak her suspicions about Rumi's mystery condition, the doctor refused to divulge

Dr. Jung was the daughter of one of the Hunters from the generation before Celine, uniquely able to understand what they did for a living and the only medical professional up to date on Rumi’s demonic heritage. With her Hunter connection she'd been the obvious pick to be Huntrix’s personal medical liaison, although Zoey had no doubt Celine still buried her under a pile of NDAs.

I wonder if she knew about Rumi’s patterns before we did, or if they hid it from her as well?

She suspected the latter, and wasn't sure if that was the better or worse option. Rumi probably hadn’t been inside many medical facilities until now.

At least it seemed like they were getting some answers today, as Dr. Jung had asked all three of them to come to her office to discuss her findings.

Degrees lined the wall behind the couch they sat on in the small office, waiting for the doctor to arrive. The room was brightly lit, clean, professional. A dark coffee table held a couple of medical illustration books (no thanks) and a puzzle contraption that Zoey had solved within a few minutes of their arrival.

While she'd been able to brag about how quickly she'd figured out the puzzle, it now left her with nothing to do.

She started bouncing her leg.

Mira sat on the one side of Rumi, looking at one of the coffee table books. Anyone unfamiliar with the woman would think she was unconcerned. Zoey knew better. She could see the anxiety written in her stiff posture and tightly pressed lips. Her nonchalance was absolutely an act– she was just as worried as Zoey was– but the calm aura she put off still helped. Zoey appreciated having a calm respite in the storm.

Especially since Zoey was not doing a great job of pretending to be okay.

She continued to bounce her leg, anxiety roiling in her gut.

Zoey had always lost sleep when stressed, and it was catching up with her. Rumi had noticed and tried to help, buying her relaxing teas and a new weighted plush turtle.

She's the one who is sick. I need to be there for her, not worry her.

While waiting for answers, Rumi had insisted they keep as busy as always, despite Mira and Zoey both hinting that they should consider postponing the rapidly approaching comeback tour.

Rumi had been aghast at the suggestion, immediately shutting it down.

She argued that it was already being heavily promoted with social media and billboards, they already had contracts with a large number of facilities around the world, and they already had the songs and choreography figured out. At this point they just needed to practice and wrap up last minute details. Whatever was going on with her health, she'd be able to resolve it before the tour started–or at least find a way to manage it.

Zoey suspected Rumi needed the distraction of being busy.

So they'd still been practicing and promoting nearly every day. Despite Rumi’s efforts to hide them, Zoey was all too aware of every sign of pain from their leader.

It's probably nothing. Dr. Jung would have found it faster if it was, like, cancer or something awful. Probably just low on some demon nutrient.

Her knee stopped bouncing.

Shit, what if it's souls?

Her heel hovered for a moment, before resuming a steady beat.

I mean that would be fine, she can have some of mine. We could work that out. Just take little sips like a vampire. No problem!

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Jung entered. She was an older woman, appearing to be in her late 50s or 60s, with mostly silver hair and a crisp white medical coat over her scrubs.

She looked up from the digital clipboard she carried and smiled. “Good afternoon Rumi-nim, Mira-nim, Zoey-nim.”

A chorus of “Good afternoon, Dr. Jung.” greeted her in response, the women standing to bow before taking their seats again.

The physician pulled up a rolling chair to sit across from them, focusing her attention on Rumi. “Thank you for coming to see me today.”

Rumi’s fingers dug painfully into her thighs. Zoey reached out to take one of Rumi's hands, and saw Mira take the other.

“I know it's been difficult waiting for a diagnosis, and I appreciate that you've been willing to do so much testing. That's not easy.”

Rumi inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Dr. Jung.”

Dr. Jung nodded and continued. “As you know, your biology is unique as a hybrid. I had to look into old Hunter texts to ensure I understood demon biology, as well as anyone can, to compare to the knowledge I already had of human biology.”

The doctor paused, seeming to consider what she wanted to say as they waited.

Zoey felt her heart rate increase.

“When a hybrid is created, sometimes there are… incompatibilities. Genes don't match up properly, pieces are missing. Sometimes there are no problems at all and you have a fully healthy hybrid. Sometimes there are so many problems that an embryo can't develop and dies before birth. And sometimes it's something in between.

You are somewhere in between.”

The weight of the silence was a boulder, crushing the room.

Dr. Jung cleared her throat before continuing. “You have multiple genetic incompatibilities. So many in fact, that I strongly suspect the Honmoon has been supporting your body, acting as a buffer. Keeping you alive.”

The doctor's careful, professionally neutral face twinged into something else for just a second.

Pity. Regret.

“Your body is breaking down much faster than it should.”

Zoey felt as if she was listening from outside her body–as if the weight of the room had squeezed her mind out like toothpaste and left the empty tube of her body staring at this doctor who continued to talk.

“The pain and stiffness is arthritis in your joints. The amenorrhea is early menopause. The fatigue and weakness is early stage cardiovascular disease. There is deterioration in other areas as well. All things I'd expect to see in someone decades older than you. The progression of cell deterioration has increased even in the short amount of time I've been monitoring.”

“I… I can't have kids?” Rumi was so quiet Zoey could barely hear her.

Dr. Jung's eyes were painfully gentle as she shook her head. “No, I'm sorry.”

Zoey was certain this was some kind of nightmare. It just kept getting worse.

It must be a bad dream.

Why can't I wake up?

Mira spoke, echoing in the space between Zoey's thoughts. “How do we cure it?”

We have the money, the resources, we'll do anything.

“We can try to manage the symptoms, and try to slow the progression as much as possible, but no, there isn't a cure for this. This is a life-limiting condition.”

Zoey needed out of this nightmare.

She needed out of this office with this woman dropping bombs on her life like she wasn't ending the world. She didn't even know Rumi, how dare she say those things.

“It'll be okay, I promise.”

She'd fucking promised her, she’d promised and now what?

What did this even mean?

They were supposed to get old and shitty together, bitch about how music in their day was better, train and tease the newest Hunter apprentices once they found them.

How long did they even have?

Zoey realized she must have said something out loud.

Everyone was looking at her.

She didn't know how much she'd said.

“Based on what I'm seeing now, and the progression I've observed, you probably have two, maybe three years.”

Zoey needed this woman to stop talking.

Every word she spewed out opened new waves of destruction and she just kept going. Zoey had a fleeting mental image of pulling a shin-kal from the Honmoon and shoving it down the doctor's throat.

“I'm dying?”

Stop her from fucking saying this shit.

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

Stop her from talking.

“It'll be okay, I promise.”

Stop her from breaking her word.

“I have some medications sent to the pharmacy for you, which should help control the symptoms. I would also like to get you into physical therapy, which should he-”

JUST STOP.

“Thank you, Dr. Jung. I… need some time. To think.”

Dr. Jung stood slowly. “Of course, Rumi-nim. This is a lot to process. I will send some mental health recommendations as well, and I will be here to support you through all of this. I…”

Please…

The physician looked away. “I wanted to give you better news. I'm sorry I couldn't.”

STOP!

~~~

Another hybrid a lot of people know about are wolfdogs. You can probably tell by the name that these are a mix of wolves and dogs. Wolfdogs are sometimes kept as pets but a lot of times they are dangerous because wolves aren’t used to living with people. Some dogs like huskies look like wolves, but they are just dogs.

~~~

Things were fine.

Rumi couldn't wait for the upcoming tour. She'd had the three of them doing almost daily practice, with time off on the weekend for bathhouse visits. The hot water really relaxed sore muscles, and her girls had been insistent on it.

Things were fine.

Dr. Jung had been calling and leaving messages, but Rumi hadn't had time to get back to her. The doctor had gotten a bit confused about Rumi's half-demon biology and was worried about her, which was silly. It was clear that Rumi was feeling great–out meeting fans and doing interviews.

Things were fine.

Bobby had been stopping by more lately in preparation for the comeback tour. He was always so helpful and thoughtful, constantly asking if she needed anything, asking how she was feeling, bringing extra treats for all of them. He seemed more anxious preparing for this tour, but that was understandable after the debacle of the Idol Awards. Rumi made sure she showed him extra appreciation. She needed to talk to Celine about raising his salary, but tour prep had left her with no time to chat with her guardian.

Things were fine.

The girls had been a bit on edge lately, but who wouldn't be? This was going to be a massive tour, right on the heels of their last one. New outfits, new choreography, new songs. There were plenty of things for them to worry about, but that was okay because–

Things were fine.

Zoey was begging her to take the medications she'd shoved to the back of a drawer but

Things were fine.

And Mira was pleading for her to go to physical therapy every time she trembled in pain but

Things were fine.

And she was barely seeing Celine anymore because how could she tell her this, she had already lost so much but

Things were fine.

And she hurt and she was tired and she hurt and she was dying and she hurt and she was terrified and she HURT but

Things were fine.

Things were fine.

Rumi sat across the table from Zoey and Mira as they looked through paperwork for the upcoming tour. Each of them had a small stack of contracts, layouts, maps, and other forms in front of them.

While a lot of the details were managed by their management company, Rumi still liked to take a look at everything to ensure it met Huntrix standards. Their fans deserved nothing but the best.

So the three of them sat at the table, papers rustling as they sifted, looking for potential hiccups that may have been overlooked.

Currently, Rumi was a bit concerned about the ability of one of the venues to offer enough bathrooms for their fans. The building was under some renovations, and several of the restrooms were closed until said renovations were complete. The building manager said that the remaining ones would be enough, but…

“Do you think we could ask the concert venue in Brazil to bring in portable bathrooms for the concert?”

Her girlfriends stared blankly at her from across the table, Mira gazing over the rim of her glasses.

“I mean, the nice kind, not the plastic ones. They make trailer versions with running water and everything.”

They continued to stare, and Rumi felt her face heat up. Was her request really so strange? “What? I saw one at a park once. It didn't seem that bad.”

Mira pushed the pile of papers sitting in front of her to the side, resting her elbows on the table. Rumi was pretty sure she hadn't actually been looking at them anyway. “You're worried about bathrooms.”

A statement.

A nervous smile crept onto Rumi’s face. Why is Mira being weird about this?

“Uh, yes. I want our fans to be comfortable.”

Zoey looked like she was waiting for a bomb to go off, eyes darting between Rumi and Mira.

One of Mira’s hands clenched into a fist. “I don't think bathrooms should be our top concern right now.”

Rumi's smile evaporated.

She's upset that I'm focused on something too small. I'm missing a bigger issue.

Her mind raced, trying to think of what bigger issue she could have missed. “Is it the hotel in London? I feel like it's a bit far from the O2 Arena, we could look fo-”

“No Rumi, I'm not concerned about the fucking hotel.”

Rumi startled at the tone, carefully modulating her own voice to not snap back.

“Look, if you don't want to help you ca-”

“I'm concerned about you. What the hell are you even doing?” She waved at the papers on the table. “What the hell is any of this?”

Rumi froze. Forced a smile.

Her vision blurred. Pain cut through her.

Things were fine.

“I'm getting ready for the tour.”

Mira stood, bracing over the table to glare at her. “And what about your health?”

“I'm fine.” No hesitation. Bigger smile.

“Bullshit. You are not fine right now, mentally or physically. You are falling ap-”

“I'm fine!”

Zoey twisted the corner of the paper she held. “Rumi, I-”

“I'M FINE!” The demonic tri-tone pulsed red through the Honmoon. Her chair screeched against the floor as she shoved back from the table and stood.

She could feel her teeth sharpen and see the dark magenta flash of her patterns out of the corner of her eyes. She turned away, trying to slow her thundering heart.

Calm down, I need to calm down.

Things were fine.

She just needed to-

“We're postponing the tour.” Mira's face was cold, carefully neutral.

Rumi whipped back around, braid arcing behind her. “We are absolutely not postpon-”

“It's already done.”

Something inside her fractured. Anger seeped into the cracks, spreading like venom.

“What?” Her voice was ice.

“I told Celine and Bobby. I didn't tell them anything about what’s going on with you–which we also need to talk about–but I told them we need to push back the tour.”

Fangs pressed into her lips, threatening to pierce through the thin skin. Agony tore through her hands as they twisted into claws, because of-fucking-course that hurt more now too, like everything else.

Zoey spoke, voice hesitant in a way the bold rapper never was. “Ru, if you can just come to see Dr. Jung again, we can figure out ho-”

The cracks split. Zoey was in on it too. Of course she was. Poison bubbled through her veins, patterns nearly black against her skin. Her vision blurred again, she tasted copper.

“There’s nothing to figure out, things are FINE.”

She locked onto Zoey’s wide brown eyes, and she flinched.

Rumi was scaring her.

She didn't care. Her head was pounding so hard she could barely think.

“Things are not fine.” Mira moved closer to Zoey, crossing her arms. “I did what needed to be done, Rumi.”

“And what would you know about doing what needs to be done?”

If Mira had done what needed to be done, Rumi would have had a gok-do buried in her chest months ago, and maybe that would have been better than this.

Mira raised her chin. “Clearly more than you.”

“Fuck you.” Her words rippled bloody through the iridescent barrier they’d created, but the Honmoon held.

Rumi left them standing at the table, trying to ignore Zoey’s broken sobs echoing down the hall, and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Framed photos of the three of them rattled on her walls.

She stood a few steps inside the room, chest heaving, body ready to fight.

How could they? I am FINE and they went behind my back to-

In the center of her bed sat two teddy bears, looking at her with shining plastic eyes. A floppy white bear with a pink shirt, and a plush black bear with a yellow cap.

Gifts from Mira and Zoey. They must have snuck them into her room earlier in the day.

It was as if someone had cut her power cord. The rage from moments before bled onto the floor. She felt… empty.

She felt nothing.

Rumi stumbled towards her bed, vision blurring, and the world tilted.

She let gravity take her to the ground, hitting her knees and sending fresh jolts of pain through her legs.

She deserved the floor.

She deserved the pain screaming through her joints, the lethargy like a lead blanket, the headaches and mental fog and nausea.

She could still hear the muffled sound of Zoey weeping, and Mira comforting her.

Of course she deserved it.

I’m ruining everything.

She was letting down her girls. Her mother. Celine. The fans.

She was falling apart.

Things were fine.

Nothing was fine.

~~~

Turtles are some of the best animals, and sometimes there are hybrid turtles. I think these are my favorite hybrids. Scientists have found a few hybrid green sea and loggerhead turtles. They share things from both parents and end up looking in between a green sea turtle and loggerhead turtle.

~~~

Celine's relationship to Rumi had always been complicated.

She hated that a lot of the complication was her own fault, even if it hadn't been her intent.

Celine hadn't been prepared to be a mother figure. She hadn’t been sure if she wanted kids at all at that point in her life. She’d only been 22, focused on the demands of being an idol and keeping the world safe from demons. She barely had time for a social life, and most of that was the carefully curated “social life” of a Kpop star– visiting trendy restaurants dressed in the latest fashions, attending parties where she could network with important industry leaders.

The Sunlight Sisters were breaking records. Celine, Mi-yeong, and Soo-jin had been unstoppable.

And then Mi-yeong, a woman she'd silently loved beyond friendship, was dead. Soo-jin left, unable to cope. And Celine was left with a half-demon infant whose crying could tear the Honmoon, a broken heart, a company to run, and a country to protect from demons.

Sleep became a concept wistfully considered between dirty diapers, demon slaying, and meetings. She hadn’t even had time to read a parenting book when a demon apocalypse was always just a mistake away.

Celine had suffered for it, and so had Rumi, but they had survived.

Somehow, forged by fire, Rumi had grown into a remarkable young woman.

Rumi was strong, the perfect Hunter, born into the role. Huntrix had come together like a dream, each girl so perfectly matched to the others. They were inseparable, in perfect harmony. The Golden Honmoon had truly been within reach. Celine had felt it, seen it flickering on the edge of her vision.

And then Celine had felt the Honmoon scream, fraying around her. Rumi had appeared, covered in patterns.

The little girl who she’d tucked into bed with a story and a kiss every night knelt in front of her, asking to die.

Even in that moment, Celine had managed to keep messing up.

She'd fallen back on old habits, terrified of losing Rumi.

She'd nearly lost her anyway.

Celine had rushed to Seoul on a private jet, feeling the surge of a new Honmoon as it met her soul mid flight.

The pilot had been less than enthused when she’d burst into the cockpit, frantically asking if he could go any faster.

It seemed almost no one in Seoul, including Bobby, was answering their cell phones. Despite that, she’d managed to find an assistant who was able to have Celine's motorcycle waiting for her at the airport. On landing, she’d grabbed her bike and blasted down the eerily empty city streets.

She had no idea where the girls were, so she went to their penthouse and waited.

At that point, she had accepted that Rumi may never want to speak to her again. She just needed to see for herself that she was alive and okay. That all three of them were.

When the girls finally arrived, stumbling out of the elevator bruised and exhausted, they’d been shocked to see her. Celine could only imagine what she'd looked like in that moment– makeup streaking down her face, hair wind-swept, clothing in disarray from the frantic trip.

Celine expected to be asked why she was there. To be asked to leave. To be asked how she managed to so spectacularly fuck up everything she tried to save over and over.

She didn't expect Rumi to ask if she could have a hug.

Celine pulled her into a crushing embrace, weeping into her hair, gasping the scent of the same shampoo she'd used since she was a child.

Rumi had pulled Mira and Zoey in, and they'd acquiesced but given Celine a look that promised future conversations.

Celine hoped that with conversations and time, she could do a better job of showing all three of them how important they were to her.

She wanted to do a better job. She thought she had been.

She and Rumi agreed to meet weekly to spend time together talking about things that weren't business related.

The first few weeks had been awkward. Avoiding business topics had left them floundering on what to discuss. Celine's attempt at a conversation on the use of hardened leather in Joseon Era armor had fizzled out quickly, and she found she could only watch so many of Rumi’s cute internet cat videos before her attention wandered.

But it hadn't taken long for it to feel more natural. Easier. They had plenty of time to spend building a stronger relationship.

Then, about 5 months ago, Rumi had abruptly become distant again.

Celine expected some of it had to do with Huntrix's upcoming tour. She knew the amount of work that went into a world tour, and was doing a great deal of her own backend work on it herself. So she understood why Rumi had started canceling their get-togethers. More than once, Celine had waited by two cups of rapidly cooling tea in her small Seoul apartment, only to get a message from Rumi that she wasn't going to make it, but maybe next week.

The text messages got shorter, less personal, sometimes just one word responses to Celine's attempts to reach out. Gone were the cheery updates, the selfies with the girls, the memes Celine always had to ask her to explain.

She tried to ask if something was wrong, but Rumi just repeated that things were fine. She was fine, just busy. Always fine.

Celine reached out to Mira and Zoey and hit walls in both cases– they both told her she needed to talk to Rumi and it wasn't their place to discuss it. Given that Rumi wasn't talking, this just left her back where she started.

She wanted to push for answers. She held herself back.

I have to do better.

In this case, that meant respecting space and boundaries.

She was concerned, but everything so far could still be written off as Rumi just being busy and stressed.

Then Mira had reached out, asking to postpone the tour.

That had set alarms screeching in her head.

Celine had barely had time to take a breath to ask why when Mira had told her “No questions, I just need you to do this for me Celine. Please.”

So of course Celine had done it, and dealt with the pushback from the company board, and made the calls, and reached out to the dozens of people involved, all while not being able to answer their questions of why.

Rumi had still refused to see her, refused to talk to her.

For nearly four weeks Celine had waited. Doing her best to be patient, to give them space, to let Rumi come to her.

A few days ago, Mira called again to inform her that they were back on track for the tour.

She'd been curt with her former mentor, cold even, ignoring her pleas for more information about what was going on.

Celine wasn’t just worried, she was terrified.

And so she had returned again to the tower, uninvited and afraid of what she would find.

Watching the climbing red numbers above the Huntrix elevator door, she wondered if she was making a mistake.

But something inside her was clawing at her gut, something feral and maternal and afraid.

So she stayed in the elevator as it rose despite the urge to hit the emergency stop button.

She knew all three of the young women’s typical schedules, having been the one who helped drill those schedules into them. At this time of day, they would most likely be in their gymnasium.

The Huntrix gym was a full floor of the tower, with everything they could possibly want. Cardio and weights, a huge dance space for practicing choreography, Hunter training equipment, weapons. If she didn’t find them there, she'd start looking on other floors.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to a scene of destruction.

Training dummies were strewn in pieces across the floor. Foam and sand leaked out of torn and fallen punching bags. Gouges were dug into the floor, walls, and ceiling.

One of the floor to ceiling mirrors had been stabbed through the center with a training gok-do, a shattered mirror image of the room radiating from the point of impact.

A pink blur shooting across the fractured reflection was the only warning Celine had.

Celine was no longer young, but she had never lapsed in her own training.

She grabbed Mira's arm as the younger Hunter attempted to swing a fist at her, flipping her over her head and sending her to the floor. Mira tucked into a roll, popping back to her feet and coming at Celine with a series of vicious punches and kicks.

Mira was a skilled fighter, but something was off.

She usually moved with the grace that her dancing background afforded her, flowing through the battlefield with elegance and precision.

None of that was on display as Celine ducked another sloppy punch, Mira growling at the miss. She was jerky, off-center, sloppy.

Angry.

Celine calmly dodged and blocked, waiting until a particularly poorly swung arm brought Mira into the perfect position. Celine grabbed her, using Mira's momentum to spin her. With a twist, she flipped her face-first onto the floor, Mira grunting as she hit the ground. Following her down, she pinned Mira into the smooth wood floor with her shoulder, preventing her from rising.

Mira bucked against Celine's hold, chest heaving, before going eerily still. Her head twisted to the side, one bloodshot eye staring up at Celine with hate. "You should have died instead of Mi-yeong."

Celine almost lost her hold on the muscular dancer pinned beneath her, the shock nearly knocking her back. "Mir-"

"This is all your fault. I fucking hate you, all you've ever done is hurt everyone around you. And you fucking know it."

It was like daggers slicing into the joints of her armor, and Celine couldn't even deny it.

“Even Zoey hates you. How does that feel? I hope it hurts.” Mira's words dripped through gritted teeth. Tears welled in the eye still staring into Celine, eviscerating her. "All you did was cause her pain, make her hate herself, make her hide. You never cared about any of us, and now she's-"

“Mira, I need you to tell me what's going on.” I deserve this, but please stop.

“It should be you instead. If you hadn't told her to hide…”

To Celine’s ever growing concern, Mira began to shake, her voice cracking. The earlier fire drained from her, expression going empty and body limp.

“...maybe we could've found it earlier. Fixed it.”

Celine relaxed her pin, confused.

She didn’t understand, they’d discussed everything with Rumi’s patterns. While Mira and Zoey didn’t agree with the choices she’d made, they’d been willing to forgive her and move forward. Celine had been working to rebuild those relationships and, like Rumi, it had seemed to be going well until whatever this was had happened.

But what happened?

“Mira, what is going on?”

Mira turned her head in Celine's grip to meet her eyes, and her heart stopped at the empty despair she saw.

A despair she knew.

For a second, Celine stared into her own 22 year old face as she watched everything being washed away from her.

No

No

No no no no no no

“Rumi's dying.”

Celine let go of Mira, falling back.

Not again

Mira pushed herself up slowly, a deep weight bearing down on her as she moved to sit on the floor across from her former mentor. Her normally bright eyes were red, cheeks stained with partially dried tears.

“Mir-” Celine choked, her voice thick. “Mira, what happened?”

Mira laughed once, harsh. “She'll kill me for telling you, so you'll have to get the more complicated details from her. But turns out being a half-demon is not…” Mira swallowed. “She's sick. She's dying. She probably has a couple of years. Maybe less.”

“That’s why… the tour…”

“Yeah, that's why I wanted to postpone it indefinitely. Ease into canceling. But it ended up being a useful bribe to get her to actually take her meds and go to physical therapy.” She managed to shrug one shoulder. “So now it’s back on.”

“And Rumi…”

“Depends on the day, but not good. She's always hurting. Some days she acts fine but is just pretending it isn't happening. Some days she's angry, which is fair. Some days she barely leaves her room except to work. She barely sleeps. Barely talks. Barely exists. That one more often, lately.”

Celine had failed.

She'd failed Rumi over and over. She'd failed Mi-yeong. She'd failed Soo-jin. She’d failed Mira. She’d failed Zoey.

She was a mausoleum to her failures.

It would be so easy to give up, to accept that she destroyed everything she cared about, to walk away rather than risk more mistakes.

But.

Celine saw a broken young woman across from her, staring blankly at the floor, clothes plastered to her skin with sweat, knuckles bloodied and torn.

She reached a hand out, touching Mira's knee.

“And you? Zoey?”

Mira's gaze lifted and locked with hers, assessing.

Celine wondered what she was looking for, and if she would find it.

“Zoey is a wreck. Barely sleeping, but trying to act like everything will be okay. She’s been drinking. Too much.” Mira looked away. “I'm…”

Mira shrugged and gestured at the wreckage of the gym around them, wincing at the sound of something falling behind Celine.

Celine nodded and stood. She couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not again.

“Please, let me help you. No conditions, nothing you don't want to do.” She held out a hand to Mira, who still sat watching her warily. “Just let me help.”

The silence lay heavy.

Mira would have been justified in telling Celine to leave. She’d already made so many mistakes.

Mira scrutinized her. Wary, distrustful.

Celine's hand wavered.

I shouldn't push, I don't want t-

Mira extended her hand, taking Celine's firmly.

“Okay.”

~~~

Did you know that bugs can also be hybrids? I bet you didn’t! One hybrid bug is the killer bee. They are a mix of the European honey bee and the African honey bee. They are way meaner than European honey bees and will sting a whole lot. Some people literally died. Scary! I wouldn’t want to meet a killer bee.

~~~

World tours were brutal in the best circumstances. Packed schedules, intense physical and mental demands, and frequent travel took their toll on idols, and they needed to be proactive to prevent burnout.

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that doing a tour when your body was tearing itself apart was even worse.

The comeback tour still had another 3 months before it was complete. It had been an unusually long tour, having already been going for nearly 5 months. This allowed for additional breaks and time off between concerts. According to their social media releases, this extra time was built in to allow Huntrix to tour the countries they were visiting as well as work on solo projects back at home in Korea.

In reality, the gaps were to accommodate Rumi’s declining health.

Rumi had started to come to terms with the fact that she was dying.

Or more accurately, she was having more days where she wasn’t having an active mental breakdown. She had more moments where she was kind of okay. She’d accepted the reality of her situation, partially because it was increasingly difficult not to.

It had been about a year since Dr. Jung had invited them to her office with as much of a diagnosis as she was able to give. It was hard to give many definitives when dealing with supernatural complications like the Honmoon and demon heritage.

Once Rumi had actually started doing the physical therapy and taking the prescribed medications, she'd seen improvement. She felt more limber, the pain became less intense, and she felt more like her old self again. More than once, she’d hoped that perhaps she would be able to cure herself if she just tried hard enough.

Unfortunately that hadn’t lasted long and her condition progressed, unable to be truly stopped.

She was increasingly fatigued all the time, her damaged heart unable to keep up with the demands of performing. Falls and bumps that would have done nothing before were increasingly likely to leave her dealing with increased pain for days afterward. Migraines and nausea could occur with little warning, leaving her curled into a ball on the cool bathroom tile. She’d had a dizzy spell hit mid-performance, and had to cut that concert short.

Mira had made adjustments to Rumi’s choreography as the tour went on. She was always careful to say it was a change she'd thought about making anyway, but the changes always made Rumi's part a little slower, a little easier. She appreciated it and hated it.

Bobby and Celine were the only other people who knew about her condition, for now. Bobby had ended up figuring it out when Zoey had gotten drunk on soju and he'd found her a sobbing mess in the elevator. Around the same time, Mira had told Celine after their mentor had found her trashing the gym.

Rumi’s birthday celebration with the four of them just a few weeks later had been strained.

She'd wanted to tell Celine and Bobby on her own– she hadn’t intended to wait nearly half a year to let them know. It had just been a difficult thing to face, which made it too easy to put off. She knew it would hurt them, and she just wanted to push that off for as long as she could.

She was already hurting Mira and Zoey enough, and hadn’t relished hurting more people she loved.

They were flying out to finish the last leg of their tour tomorrow, which would be primarily based along the eastern coast of the US. There would be some very highly attended shows for this leg, and Rumi needed to be as ready as she could be. That had meant extra physical therapy over this break, in an effort trying to keep her body from betraying her any faster.

Rumi had spent her morning at another physical therapy session, working on lower body stretches and mobility. Most days she was able to keep up well enough, but today her exhaustion had really been kicking in. Her PT nurse ended up letting her leave early, advising that she should listen to her body and go get some rest.

Rumi was eager to collapse into her bed and try to recover before the girls got home. They'd told her she didn't need to hide how she was feeling, but she still tried to adjust her habits as much as possible to present her healthiest, best self to them.

She entered the penthouse and saw Zoey's jacket flung over the back of the couch.

So much for beating them home.

Mira's jacket and bag weren't hanging up on the wall hook however, so Zoey must have come home alone.

If Rumi was quiet, she might be able to get to her room for a quick nap without Zoey even noticing. With a little luck, she would be playing video games with her headphones on. Rumi could get a little time to sleep and Zoey would be none the wiser.

Rumi moved down the bedroom hallway, harnessing her Hunter training to move soundlessly across the floor. She was about to pass Zoey’s door when the sound of hushed talking caught her attention. Curious, she paused. The door was slightly ajar, and Rumi was able to peer in through the gap.

Zoey sat cross-legged on her bed, face scrunched in concentration. She pulled her fingers through the air in front of her, the Honmoon rippling in response to her touch. Her fingers caught in some of the strands, and starlight sparkled at her fingertips.

“I just, I really think you could do it if you tried.”

Zoey had always had a close connection to the Honmoon. Rumi had caught her talking to it many times before, and Zoey had admitted that she’d treated it like a friend when she was younger and lonely. Now that they’d remade it, Zoey’s connection had deepened.

No one really knew if the Honmoon was closer to being a collection of energy or truly had some kind of sentience that humans could comprehend. It did seem to have some kind of consciousness, based on how it reacted to things in the world.

When Rumi was a child, Celine had told her that when Hunters died, they became a part of the Honmoon. Celine had found her trying to encourage her eomma to speak to her through the veil, pleading for her mother to respond. Celine had explained that although her mother had loved her, her love couldn’t transcend the will of the Honmoon itself.

Rumi had still tried again.

The Honmoon curled serenely around Zoey’s fingers as she talked, brown eyes intensely focused on the filaments.

“You were helping her before.”

Oh.

“I just– I don't see why you can't anymore. Is it something we did? Did we make you wrong?” A tear slipped silently down her face, leaving a wet trail over her freckles.

Oh Zoey.

“What if I helped? Do you need more strength? I can give up my shin-kals, I don't need them anymore.”

Zoey reached out and grasped again at the Honmoon. It lovingly twisted over her hand, then slid back into place. She smiled, undeterred.

“I have other ideas! We could do more concerts, bigger concerts, more fan energy than you could hold! I could– “

Zoey laughed once, a broken sound that skittered down Rumi’s spine, prickling the hairs on her arms. Zoey pressed her hand to her chest and her soul illuminated.

Rumi's own soul turned to ice in her chest, alarm rushing through her veins.

“I could offer my soul.”

Rumi and the Honmoon reacted at the same time, the veil recoiling at the same time that Rumi leapt forward. She ignored the pain spasming through her joints as she ran to Zoey’s side, pulling her into a crushing embrace.

Zoey gasped, before realizing what Rumi had heard. “Ru, I-”

“Zo, never.” Rumi whispered, desperate as she held Zoey’s wet brown eyes with her own. “Never.” The Honmoon thrummed in time with her voice, a celestial emphasis.

Zoey crumbled.

Rumi held her as she wept, rocking back and forth with her and whispering love into her ear while trying to calm her own racing heart.

She can’t, I won’t let her.

Eventually the heaving sobs slowed into sniffles.

Rumi turned her head to place a kiss on Zoey's wet cheek. “Why, jagiya?”

Zoey looked up at her, eyes red and face covered in tears and mucus. She still looked like she hadn't slept in days, despite the increased therapy visits and new medication. “I can't… I can't do this without you. We need you.”

She coughed wetly, and Rumi grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand for her.

“Dr. Jung said the Honmoon was helping you before,” Zoey continued, after blowing her nose. “So I don't understand why it can't anymore.”

Rumi nodded slowly. “She said it probably just couldn't keep up anymore. Things kept building up and eventually boiled over. That's why it's suddenly getting bad so fast.”

Rumi’s vision wavered as she talked. The short burst of adrenaline was fading fast, leaving her feeling even worse. She was probably going to have to tell Zoey she was taking a nap in her bed– she didn't think she could stand again.

“Yes, but what if we super powered it? Give it more energy so that it could help you again.” Zoey’s smile was a little too intense. “It could totally work!”

Her headache was growing by the second. Her body screamed for rest, longing to slump onto the bed.

“Well I absolutely refuse to let you offer your soul.” Rumi's voice slurred, but she had to make sure Zoey understood.

Zoey looked away but said nothing.

Rumi had more to say, but her head felt fuzzy and the words stuck in her mind.

“Okay… but, Rumi.” A desperate hope flickered in her eyes. “The tour could work, right? The fans have been wild at every concert, it has to be making the Honmoon even stronger. If we just try harder than ever, we can power it enough.” Zoey's fingernails dug painfully into her arms. “The Honmoon owes you. It could save you.”

Could it?

But she could hardly focus on the idea. The bed was spinning, her vision blurring and dark around the edges.

Gentle arms guided her down on the bed, tucking her arms to her sides and placing her head on a pillow.

“It will work, Ru.”

Maybe.

A stuffed animal was placed in her arm, and a warm blanket pulled up to her chest. A soft kiss pressed to her lips.

“It has to.”

(It won’t.)

~~~

Lots of plants are hybrids too. Like grapefruit is a hybrid. So is loganberry. I like peppermint a lot and it's a hybrid plant. One time me and my dad got plumcots and they are a mix between plums and apricots and they taste really good. I think a hybrid of a grape and a banana would be so cool!

~~~

Mira dumped the steaming bag of popcorn into a large bowl, grabbing three Ramunes from the fridge. The glass bottles clinked in her hands as she walked back to the couch, where Zoey was waiting.

Huntrix was finally, finally on a break. A real break, not one where they were doing daily promo work and fighting demons until sunrise.

It seemed that sealing the Honmoon had been completely successful, with no signs of any demonic activity since Namsan tower. However, it felt strange to put such a big part of their lives behind them, so Mira and Zoey had continued to train. If there was ever another incursion, they needed to be ready.

Especially since they would likely be fighting as a duo rather than a trio.

Having just finished back to back tours, fans had already expected that Huntrix would announce a break to recover and start creating new material.

What the fans hadn't expected was the announcement of an indefinite hiatus.

Speculation on social media had been all over the place initially. Some wondered if they'd had some kind of fallout, if the fight on stage at the Idol Awards hadn't just been for show. Most fans shut that down, pointing out that they'd just completed another full tour and appeared to be closer than ever. A few of those fans tossed in a #polytrix, which always delighted Zoey. Mira suspected she had an email alert set up for the hashtag based on how many comments she found. Rumors had quickly turned to Huntrix having some kind of big, exciting plans they'd be revealing. After all, the K-pop group was well known for pulling big reveals. Rumi's surprise drop of Golden two years ago hadn't helped with that reputation.

So of course the fans thought this was probably going to be some fun publicity stunt.

Of course they were guessing and making silly posts and videos about it.

Of course they were laughing and happy.

They had no idea that Mira was losing everything, her world dripping through her fingers, rotting away faster than she could repair it.

Lately she'd had a recurring dream plaguing her almost every night.

She and Rumi stood with a crowd at the edge of a steep, sloped stone wall. At the center of the funnel-shaped formation, light faded into a black abyss. She would attempt to look at the dark spot, but it buzzed and squirmed at the back of her brain like living static. She had to look away.

She was frozen. A statue among a field of statues.

As Mira stood, unable to move, Rumi would calmly sit down, push herself over the lip of the cavernous hole, and begin to slide down the smooth rockface. The scrape of her shoes sliding against stone was the only sound.

The crowd stood around the edge, with silent, blank faces. Thousands of fans decked in Huntrix merch, holding signs and light sticks. They never helped, never moved, never made a sound.

Sometimes in the dream, Rumi slipped passively down the wall, quiet until the end. Other times she struggled and screamed as she slid, or even smiled and laughed as if riding a slide at a playground.

Mira would try to pull at the unresponsive Honmoon with leaden arms, to scream for help from the silent masses around her, to follow Rumi off the edge and go with her to that hateful dark, but her feet were rooted to the earth.

Nothing ever slowed Rumi's descent towards the darkness.

Each time the inky black swallowed Rumi, Mira would scream herself into consciousness and sprint to the bathroom to vomit. Often, one of the girls would follow, holding back her hair and placing a comforting hand on her sweat-soaked back.

They didn't need to ask what she dreamed about.

Mira tossed Zoey her soda and took a spot near her, with just enough space for Rumi between them.

Zoey made a show of pretending to fumble the bottle as she caught it. “Hey, chucking glass at my face? What if I'd missed?”

“First of all,” She sang the first line. “Huntrix don't miss. You never miss. Second of all, I think a missing tooth would add some charm. Don't Americans replace them with gold?”

“Rude, and no, most people don't.”

“But you would.” Mira popped the marbles in her and Rumi's Ramunes.

“Hell yeah I would.”

As they waited for Rumi, Mira chucked buttery kernels of popcorn one at a time at Zoey, who grinned and caught them in her mouth.

Slow footsteps approached, and both Mira and Zoey turned to smile at Rumi as she entered.

Rumi took her seat between them, as well as the Ramune Mira waggled in her face. “I hope I didn't miss anything.”

Zoey leaned over the half-demon to grab a handful of popcorn from Mira's bowl, meeting Rumi’s lips in a quick but passionate kiss as she did so. “Nah, we wouldn't start a gem like, uh…” She glanced at her phone. “Yonggary, Monster from the Deep without you.”

Rumi leaned back. “Oh god, this is that awful movie Mira picked, isn't it?”

“Excuse me, it's a classic.” Mira grinned and playfully tossed a piece of popcorn at Rumi.

Rumi reached out to catch it.

It bounced off her fingers, rolling to the floor.

—

The movie really was awful, but it was also a classic. Movies can be two things.

On the screen, scientists try to figure out how to save Seoul from the titular reptile.

Mira was only half watching. She could see Rumi wanted to talk.

She could read it in the tight line of her smile, the way her eyes didn't quite focus on the film, the way her finger tapped against her leg.

Mira was good at reading people. She'd had to be, with a biological family that told tapestries of artfully twisted lies and truths. It had been a useful skill as a K-pop star as well, giving her the ability to see the truth behind the carefully curated masks worn by the rich and famous.

Over the years she'd spent with Rumi and Zoey, and especially in the past couple of years, Mira had perfected the art of reading her lovers. It became as natural as breathing. She knew when Zoey was edging towards a panic attack or needed to gush about a new hyperfixation, she knew when Rumi was feeling guilty about not getting enough done or wanted to cuddle but felt awkward asking.

So she knew Rumi had something to say– but she would let her decide when.

Mira took one of Rumi’s hands, gently massaging it. Pain had become a daily part of Rumi’s life, radiating through her joints like molten metal. Mira and Zoey had looked into what they could do to alleviate some of it. Dr. Jung had been able to get them some lessons with massage therapists, an acupuncturist, and physical therapists, with simple things they could do to help relieve the half-demon.

Rumi hummed in appreciation.

“I had a visit with Dr. Jung today. After therapy. I asked Celine to take me.” Rumi offered, quietly.

Zoey grabbed the remote and muted the film. The giant lizard continued to stomp around silently in the background.

Typically, either Mira or Zoey escorted Rumi to appointments with Dr. Jung. Zoey’s eyes flicked to Mira in question, and the dancer minutely shook her head. I didn't know either.

“That's good.” Mira reassured. “Is everything okay? Still stable?”

“No.”

On the screen, the poorly-made rubber monster suit tore down fake power lines. Fire tore through cardboard buildings, light flashing across their living room. Shadows flickered across their faces.

Mira felt Rumi stepping over the edge.

“She says my heart is getting worse, and she has concerns about some of my blood results. I told her to email you both the full report, so you'll get that.”

Zoey took a swig of Ramune like it was one of the bottles of soju Mira had poured down the drain.

“Celine and I talked. We think it's time to make an official announcement about Huntrix.”

Rumi smiled. A fake ass smile she used to hide her discomfort.

The abyss waited, tendrils of black reaching hungrily.

“You mean disbanding.” Mira's voice cracked.

Rumi wrung her hands, her anxiety leaking through the professional smile. “More like, bringing things to a close on our own terms. I don't want to lie to the fans. I can't…” The smile wavered. “I can't do shows anymore. Not like this. I don't want…”

Zoey began to silently sob, curling into herself, and Rumi turned to wrap her arms around the maknae.

Mira was frozen.

Standing on the edge of a cliff as they all just kept leaving her.

They left.

Her mother, shutting the door to her bedroom as she cried for comfort.

Her family, pushing her out the door to rid themselves of a “problem.”

Her first girlfriend leaving her the next day, saying it was just something she'd been trying out.

The talent scouts telling her over and over that she wasn't what they were looking for, leaving her with another crushed dream.

Rumi lying to her for years, leaving her holding a weapon and questions without answers.

Hurting Zoey, and walking away from her so that for once Mira could be the first to leave.

Rumi kept sliding down that wall, smiling and screaming and peaceful and terrified and inevitable.

Mira's voice fell through the silence like a prayer.

“No.”

She hated how small she sounded. Hated how she sounded like that little girl left alone in a big, dark room.

“Please. Please, Rumi.” She choked on words that stuck in her throat.

Rumi turned to her like the sun, pulled her into an embrace with weak arms as Zoey surged forward, wrapping them all together.

The words kept spilling like vomit from between her lips.

“I can't, not yet, not yet, please I can't lose you yet, I love you, please, please stay please stay, don't leave me…”

She buried her face into Rumi’s shoulder, feeling all three bodies shaking as they wept into each other. She pressed closer, whispering into Rumi’s skin, leaving trails of salt and mucus.

“Please Rumi, I know we will… not yet, I can't do it, stay…”

Mira begged and screamed and raged and pleaded as Rumi tumbled away from her, unstoppably pulled somewhere she couldn't follow.

Rumi, her beautiful girl, looked up from the black hole creeping up her feet, her calves, her thighs.

Looked down at Mira, sobbing in her embrace.

Smiled, bittersweet. “Okay, jagiya. We'll wait.”

~~~

Some cool things about hybrids are that they can help people. Like with mules being better than donkeys and horses, this helped people to do things. And with the plumcots, this helped give us more tasty things. And the turtles give us cool things to look at.

~~~

Zoey opened the door to the limousine, ignoring the strobing of the cameras flashing on either side of her. Mira emerged from the studio entrance, hovering close to Rumi. She leaned heavily on her cane, and the clicking of camera shutters increased, photographers reaching over the barrier they'd placed around the walkway. Zoey bit her lip until she tasted copper to stop herself from screaming at them.

The cane had been a gift from herself and Mira – a beautiful carved wood staff with a curved tiger head as the handle, a tiny black soapstone magpie nestled below his chin.

Zoey had hoped the beauty of the piece would soften the blow of Rumi’s increasing reliance on it. It also helped that as a gift, Rumi would feel some obligation to use it in order to show appreciation.

Given how she gripped it now, Zoey knew she wasn't using it for show.

They had come into this knowing that this would be a media circus, but it was Rumi’s choice. The leader of Huntrix wanted to present herself honestly, which meant not hiding her cane, the weakness and shaking, her concerning weight loss. She didn't want the announcement hidden behind staged photos where she was carefully curated to look “fine”, and her condition was hidden like something shameful. Rumi hoped fans would see this and know it was okay to struggle sometimes, to need help.

Of course Rumi would worry about the fans and how this would affect them, even though it was going to take her days to recover from this event.

Mira helped Rumi into the limo, letting the half-demon brace on her arm as she eased herself into her seat. Zoey could see Mira holding herself back from just bodily picking Rumi up and plopping her into her seat.

Rumi had asked them to not assist her unless asked while in front of the cameras today.

She was trying to strike a delicate balance– she didn't want to hide her failing health from the fans, but still wanted to show the strength and poise she'd always been known for.

To be Rumi, fearless leader of Huntrix, one last time.

With Rumi in the vehicle and secured, Mira and Zoey followed behind her, pulling the door shut behind them. The sound of the crowd of fans and media became muffled.

Zoey released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Their driver, a friendly younger man with an easy smile, glanced back over the partition at the three of them. “Where to, Rumi-nim?”

Rumi still wore a soft, camera ready smile. “Back to the tower, thank you.”

He nodded, and the glass divider slid up, securing with a soft click.

Rumi's mask slipped off instantly, pain pinching the corners of her eyes. “Zoey, can I have some pain meds?” Her hands shook as she asked.

Zoey shook her head. “No, babe, it's too soon after the last dose.” She hated to deny her, but her medication regime had to be closely monitored to keep her safe.

When Zoey had found that Rumi was sometimes missing or almost overdosing on meds without realizing it, Zoey had offered to help. She'd downloaded an app to help track what medications Rumi could take and when, and ensured Rumi stayed on schedule. At this point, she hardly needed the app, having memorized everything. She'd never expected to learn about so many prescription drugs when she was considering Celine's offer of idol training.

In her defense, she did say I'd need to be adaptable.

Zoey could at least offer her an alternative. “We can get you into a warm bath when we get home. Mira and I can join you if you'd like.”

Early on, they'd discovered that soaking in hot water helped loosen Rumi’s muscles and joints, providing some level of pain relief. Bath house visits had gotten harder, so they'd recently splurged on a massive hot tub.

“I'd like that.” Rumi looked out the tinted window as the limousine pulled away from the studio headquarters. Fans lined the block, waving signs and posters for Rumi and Huntrix, sending love and support. There were more than a few tearful faces.

The Huntrix PR team had hinted carefully at what the press conference would be about, not wanting to blindside their fan base. Fans had slowly realized that the indefinite hiatus was not part of some secret promo, that Rumi was battling a serious medical condition, and that this condition was likely to affect Huntrix.

Even before today's announcement, K-pop enthusiasts had pieced together what that was likely to mean– Huntrix would be disbanding.

It didn't make the official announcement any less painful to make.

Rumi folded against Zoey, resting on her shoulder. Zoey laid her cheek on the soft braid of purple hair, breathing in the scent– lavender shampoo and something intrinsically Rumi.

The lights dimmed. Quiet classical music Zoey couldn’t quite recognize but swore she’d heard before played over the speakers.

Zoey ran a hand along Rumi's back, tracing soothing patterns. Her fingers bumped over too-prominent bones.

That's it then.

No more Huntrix.

Rumi had encouraged Zoey and Mira to keep making music after–

Well, after.

Zoey didn't want to think about that yet. Mira clearly didn't either, and they'd avoided any conversations related to “after.”

Without Rumi, it wouldn't be Huntrix, so they'd wanted to retire that title regardless.

Zoey looked over at Mira. Her makeup didn't quite hide the bags under her eyes, hadn't quite held up to the tears that slipped out as they'd addressed the media, didn't completely preserve her mask of calm confidence.

She was one of the most beautiful women Zoey had ever seen.

She was privileged to have her, to have both of them.

After they'd gotten the news about Rumi, she'd needed to just not think, her mind tearing itself apart. The wine and soju in their kitchen had been the obvious solution to her overactive brain, and helped her sleep.

She'd been sneaky at first, careful not to let on how much she was relying on the alcohol. All too quickly, it spiraled into an obvious problem.

Rumi and Mira had tried to help, but surprisingly, Celine had made the most difference. The former Sunlight Sister had opened up about her own struggles, had understood the lure of alcohol and the blissful numbness it brought.

Zoey still looked longingly at the bottles lining the shelves of the liquor store, but had stayed sober.

She still struggled to sleep some nights.

A few nights ago, Mira found her hiding in the kitchen nursing a cup of herbal tea, another midnight stolen by insomnia.

Mira joined her, making a cup for herself, and asked if they could talk. She expressed the guilt she felt over asking to wait to officially end Huntrix.

Rumi had asked to end things six months ago, wanting to go out on her own terms while she was still visibly well, still “looked” like a K-pop star.

Now she struggled to walk, to stand, to speak for long periods. She looked sick and frail under the harsh lights of the cameras. The media would put her appearance at the press conference under a microscope. There would be speculation about drugs, eating disorders, mental breakdowns.

Mira worried she'd pressured her to wait too long.

Zoey reminded Mira that she had agreed with her on waiting, and had supported that request.

(Had raised her shin-kals beside Mira's gok-do, had hurt her, had broken promises.)

They'd clung to each other in the kitchen, kisses and touches deepening between whispered assurances. You'll have me, I'll have you.

Zoey didn't want to face a future without Huntrix either, a future she couldn't imagine.

She didn't know what that future was going to be like.

Different. Bad.

Mira seemed to sense she was being stared at, and her gaze drifted from the streets outside the window to Zoey.

Zoey blew up her cheeks, making a face.

Mira turned her lips down in an exaggerated scowl, bugging her eyes out.

Zoey crossed her own eyes, sticking out her tongue.

Mira pursed her lips like a fish.

Zoey went for the big guns, making a suggestive gesture with one hand and her tongue.

Mira snorted, a smile breaking across her face like the dawn. Zoey returned the grin.

At least I have her.

Mira had been a rock for Zoey– She didn't know how Celine had done it on her own. They'd had so many conversations. If someone had told Zoey three years ago that she was actually going to get pretty close to Celine she would have laughed in their face.

Loudly.

Yet here she was, in daily contact with her former mentor who she'd been ready to kick to the curb for life after the whole “faults and fears and half-demons” thing. She was sending her memes, of all things.

Life was unpredictable sometimes.

Rumi's quiet voice broke her from her thoughts.

“How do you think it went?”

Mira hummed. “As well as it could have. The press was unusually respectful, so I suspect Celine put some fear into them beforehand.” She slid her hand over Rumi’s. “I think you handled all the questions well. It was really brave of you to get up there.”

Rumi pulled her hand away from Mira and sat up slowly, withdrawing from Zoey’s side.

Zoey felt cold without her.

Quiet classical music still filtered into the limo. Zoey recognized this one, from her parents watching Looney Tunes when she was a child.

The car entered a tunnel, and the light dimmed. Zoey watched both of her lover's faces as the shadows shifted over them.

“I don't feel brave.” Rumi whispered.

Her shoulders shook, and she stared into her lap.

“When… when they asked me about what treatments I was getting, I wanted to thank my physical therapist. I wanted to thank her publicly because she has been so kind.”

Rumi looked up at them, eyes wet. “I couldn't remember her name.”

They emerged from the tunnel, and the darkness lifted slightly.

Deep purple washed through Rumi’s patterns, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why couldn't I remember her name?”

Zoey started to reach out but Rumi flinched.

Let her talk, give her space, even if it hurts.

“And I don't know if it's just stress? Or if this is just the next thing I lose. If I just lose myself one piece at a time until I'm nothing. Is this what I lose now?” Her voice cracked. “I don't want to forget.”

It was just stress, you could never be nothing, I won't let you lose everything.

Tears dripped into her lap, splattering over her hands. “I'm so scared.”

Please don't be scared, please let me hold you, I love you.

“I don't want to forget, I don't want to hurt, I don't want to lose, I don't want to end.” The half-demon sobbed. “I don't want to die.”

This time when Zoey reached out, Rumi didn't flinch.

Zoey pulled her (too light) form into hers, cradling Rumi as she wept. Mira unbuckled and slid over, draping her long arms over them both.

Rumi wept.

She cried until she'd drained herself half sick, then laid limp in Zoey's arms, chest shuddering with every breath.

Somewhere between drunk and hungover, Zoey turned one bleary eye to Celine, as she offered her a bottle of water.

“Drink. You'll thank me tomorrow.”

The plastic was cool in her hands, and she'd drained it immediately. She aimed the bottle for the bathroom trashcan and completely missed.

Fuck that trashcan anyway.

She slumped back down into the cool, empty bathtub.

Rumi once told her Jinu had been 400 years old, which was insane. At that time, Zoey had worried that Rumi might outlive them both, a living ghost trapped in amber.

Rumi was supposed to outlive them all. Some fucking sick joke this was.

“Hooow'd you do it, C'line?”

Celine didn't need to ask what she meant.

The former Hunter sat on the edge of the tub, normally crisply ironed clothes wrinkled after a day of trying to do damage control for three imploding former mentees.

“I didn't. Not every day. I looked for ways to give up.”

She looked at Zoey, then looked through her.

“But I had her. I loved her the moment I first held her. She was so small, and I was all she had, and she needed me.”

Her gaze refocused, seeing Zoey again. “She needs you now, too.”

Later, when her brain wasn't being pickled, Zoey would think deeply on that.

In that moment however she just said, “Yeh, well yuuuur a fuggin bitch,” then vomited cold water over the edge of the bathtub.

Zoey kissed Rumi's forehead. “Do you remember the time Mira tried to dye my hair blue?”

Rumi sniffed. “She used too much bleach.”

“Hey, I was 14, gimme a br-”

“She used WAY too much bleach. Absolutely fried my hair. Celine threatened to shave my head.”

Mira grumbled. “And I still maintain that it wasn't that bad.”

“Babe, it looked like straw.”

“It also turned green.” Rumi noted, the corners of her lips twitching up.

“And not a good green. Not like a happy green. I looked like I was growing toxic algae on my head. Algae, Mira.”

Mira gave them both a light slap on their arms. “Oh I see how it is. Alright, in that case do you happen to remember the time you decided to try to make those viral turtle bread buns?”

Zoey gasped. “Mira! We all agreed to never speak of that day! A day that never happened.”

A small, beautiful laugh from Rumi. “The fire department was excited about the signed photos, at least.”

“Et tu, Rumi?” Zoey pulled away just enough to mime being stabbed.

Rumi smiled, a delicate thing.

“It'll be okay, I promise.”

Zoey hadn’t been able to keep that one, but she could make a new promise.

“Ru, I wish I could promise to fix everything right now. I can't, I know that.”

She cupped Rumi's face, ran a thumb by that fragile smile.

“I will be here. I will hold you, and our memories, and our love, and no matter what, I will be here. I promise.”

~~~

Some less cool things about hybrids are that they often can’t have babies. I think this is really sad. It’s called infertile. Sometimes people make hybrids because they think they are cool, but then the hybrids can’t find good homes, like the wolfdogs. Luckily there are rescues that take them! I would take a rescue hybrid sea turtle.

~~~

Rumi sat at the table, listening to the conversation around her as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

A small pile of opened gifts sat next to her spot at the table, except for the one she was currently holding.

A weighted plush “tiger shark” from Zoey. Zoey had affixed a party hat on his head that matched her own, and sat him in Rumi’s lap. Rather than being an actual tiger shark, he had a mix of tiger and shark features, with four paws, a dorsal fin, and a goofy smile.

An adorable little hybrid.

Rumi loved him already.

She stroked his soft fur, letting her thoughts drift, warm and comfortable.

Rumi was going to have a good day.

It was her 27th birthday, and she knew the girls had plans to celebrate with her.

Unfortunately she'd spent most of last night staring at the ceiling, bones aching, waiting for sleep that came only reluctantly and left quickly.

She was still getting used to being back in the deep quiet of the Hunter compound. As the chill of fall deepened, her pain and mobility had worsened. Living in a high rise and trying to navigate a busy city was becoming less of an option every day.

Moving back to her childhood home made sense, even if it felt like giving up. The hanok was quiet, private, and more accessible than the penthouse's multiple floors. Celine had made renovations and added a large new suite with a fully accessible bathroom and enormous adjustable bed. Her girls could work on small projects at the compound, or take a quick flight back to Seoul as needed. They could keep busy without having to worry about Rumi being alone if she needed help. The knowledge that Rumi had helped to earn much of the money being used to fund these renovations and her medical care helped sooth the sting of guilt.

Mira and Zoey were already gone when she woke. She recalled that they'd let her know they would both be out until that afternoon, but she still allowed herself a moment to sulk about it.

She groggily dry-swallowed her morning medications, including her pain pills, and had to lay there for an hour before she was able to get out of bed.

Although determined to have a good day, her body was not cooperating so far.

The girls had gotten her a lightweight electric wheelchair for bad days, but she hadn't touched it yet. Mira had gently teased her for being stubborn, and she knew she was being obstinate to continue relying solely on her cane. She was wasting precious energy and risking a fall, but she just wasn't ready for that yet.

They seemed to understand, even if they worried.

Rumi smiled as Zoey placed a slice of cake in front of her– marbled chocolate and vanilla, with bright rainbow sprinkles spilling off the top. “You really didn’t need to go all the way to Seoul just for a cake.”

It was tradition for the girls to get her some kind of little surprise for her birthday. This year, they’d brought her two.

One of them was the birthday cake, fresh from her favorite bakery in Seoul, which explained why they’d been out half the day.

“It was an easy trip!” Zoey chirped. “Plus, we had to get the other part of your surprise as well.”

Mira agreed. “We just stopped by Seoul and grabbed the two sweetest things there– that cake and Bobby.”

Bobby blushed hard enough to match the dancer's hair.

Celine was waiting in the kitchen with a steaming bowl of miyeok-guk by the time Rumi managed to get out of bed.

It tasted like salt and childhood.

Rumi desperately wanted to finish the bowl, to honor both her mother and the woman who'd raised her and now watched her with hopeful eyes every time she raised the spoon to her lips.

She managed five spoonfuls before her stomach threatened to rebel.

Celine had seemed pleased, but it hurt to watch her dump the rest of the soup in the composting bin.

Dr. Jung visited later in the morning for an evaluation. Rumi didn't expect good news at this point, but she'd been especially unhappy to hear the doctor suggest a nasogastric feeding tube to help try to keep her weight up.

“Your heart and other organs are all burning through more energy now to keep going. I understand you are doing your best to eat, but you've lost another kilo you couldn't afford to lose in the first place. Just consider it.”

She'd also pushed her to use a wheelchair at least some of the time.

Celine had agreed with Dr. Jung on both the NG tube and the chair, which meant Zoey and Mira would know soon as well. She appreciated how much they all cared, but it could be suffocating at times.

By the time the physician left, it was early afternoon. Zoey and Mira were due home any time with whatever birthday surprise they had.

Rumi had to be ready. She wanted to be smiling, happy, superstar Rumi for her birthday party.

“You can take a nap if you'd like.”

Rumi turned to see Celine leaning against the doorframe, watching Rumi. She glared silently back at her guardian, who put her hands up in faux surrender.

Rumi had never been a napper, even as a child, but being sick changed that. She'd begrudgingly admitted that she was better off napping and being more functional when she was awake, than forcing herself to keep moving and getting lost in her increasingly foggy mind.

However, there was no time for rest today. Not when Rumi knew the girls would be home any time.

So she waited.

Rumi looked wistfully at the plate of cake in front of her.

She'd managed to eat nearly half of it, the buttercream frosting almost painfully sweet. Zoey was on her third slice, which meant she'd be climbing the walls later.

I should try to finish my piece, at least.

But her fork felt too heavy to lift.

So instead, she focused on watching her loved ones chat and laugh around the table, until the weight of her eyelids became too much. She let them drift closed for just a moment.

Rumi heard a car pull up the gravel drive,

Mira and Zoey.

Followed by another set of tires, which she wasn't expecting.

A buzz of excitement pushed past her weariness. She glanced at her phone, surprised the girls were so late.

Zoey burst in the door, wrangling a cloud of balloons in with her. “HONEYYYY, WE'RE HOOOOOME! Sorry we're–”

Rumi grinned and stood to greet her.

Everything went black.

A breath later she found herself laying across the couch, staring up at four faces laced with varying degrees of concern and a sea of balloons across the ceiling.

One of the faces was unexpected.

“Bobby, you came for my birthday?” She managed, through the haze.

Jeju Island wasn't exactly convenient for him.

Bobby smiled awkwardly and waved his hands. “Surprise! I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Why am I on the couch?”

She started to push herself up and ended up with more assistance than she really needed, Mira grousing “You stood up too fast. Celine said you've been having a bad day.”

Zoey started grabbing at the balloon strings dangling from the ceiling, gathering them one by one.

Mira looked thoughtfully at Rumi. “Maybe we should celebrate next week, babe. You're clearly exhausted.”

Rumi felt her chest constrict. “No, it's a good day! I promise!”

Celine and Mira both made a skeptical noise in the back of their throats. From over their shoulders, Rumi could see Zoey look between the two of them and hold back a snort of laughter.

“Please,” Rumi pleaded. “I really want to do this. I want to celebrate with everyone today, I've been waiting all day.”

She didn't have Zoey’s level of puppy eyes, but years in the spotlight meant she knew how to work an audience's sympathy.

Bobby caved immediately.

“Welp, I can't say no to that.” He plopped beside her on the couch, adding his own pleading look next to hers.

That was enough to get Zoey tearing up, letting all the balloons she gathered float back to the ceiling as she vaulted the couch to join Rumi and Bobby.

Mira groaned. “Oh my go–stop, okay, you win!” She held up her hands as if to shield herself from the onslaught of three pairs of imploring eyes. “Enough with the sad eyes!”

Zoey swooped in to plant a victory kiss on Rumi’s cheek.

“But!” Mira pointed at Rumi. “You use the wheelchair.”

A second attempt at sad eyes failed when Zoey and Bobby (traitors) sided with Mira. “Fine.” Rumi huffed.

She woke up in her bed, a warm body on either side of her. Based on the soft snores, Mira was asleep. Zoey sat propped against the back of the bed, scrolling through her phone, the light highlighting her freckled cheeks.

She must have felt Rumi shift, and smiled softly down at her. “Hey sleepyhead.”

“Hmmm.” She remembered her surprise, and her heart dropped. “Bobby left? I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Still half asleep, devastated tears pricked at her eyes.

Before she could work herself up, Zoey reached down to run a hand through her hair, scratching gently at her scalp. Rumi leaned into the touch. “Oh babe, don’t worry. He is staying the whole weekend, right over in the guest room. You’ll get to see him tomorrow! We can totally show him all the cool spots we used to hide from Celine in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah babe. We will do so much fun stuff tomorrow, don’t you worry. I have plans.” She brushed her hand over Rumi’s cheek. “But for now, back to sleep for you.”

That sounded like a good idea. She let her eyes drift shut again, the edges of the world dulled.

“Zo?”

“Hmm?”

“It was a good day.”

She felt Zoey’s lips, soft and reverent against her own, before she surrendered to sleep.

~~~

I also think it’s really sad that some hybrids get old and sick faster. That is the opposite of hybrid vigor! A lot of hybrids never actually get born or die really early. This is because the genes are too different. Ligers, which are a mix of lion and tiger, have this sometimes. They can have bad health and get sick way earlier.

~~~

“...How much longer?”

“It's difficult to say. Maybe weeks. Probably days.”

Celine clutched at her chest. As if it was her heart failing, not Rumi’s. It felt like it was.

“She… I was supposed to protect her.”

Dr. Jung placed a sympathetic hand over hers. “I'm so sorry, Celine.”

Celine had never so regretted dumping all the alcohol in the Hunter compound before moving the girls in. She had done so at Zoey’s quiet request. Celine had been proud of her for asking, but now she desperately wished for a glass of something strong. Maybe a bottle. Maybe several bottles.

Celine had always expected that Rumi would bury her in the Hunter cemetery someday, near Mi-yeong and Soo-jin. She’d worried about how it would affect Rumi, who had lost so much before she could even understand what she was losing, to lose Celine as well.

She'd never considered the alternative.

Not until Rumi got sick.

Even then, Celine had held onto some hope that something would happen. The Honmoon would intervene, the doctors would find a new treatment, that somehow Rumi’s half-demon nature would stabilize.

Now she sat at the head of a hospital bed they'd bought for the hanok, staring at the sleeping form of the child she'd raised. Rumi's patterns shimmered faintly against her pale skin, the powerful young woman now impossibly frail.

Mira and Zoey preferred to cradle her between them when they slept, but had both moved to one side to avoid the IV line that now ran into her right arm. Zoey was curled against Rumi, face buried in her neck. Mira was tucked behind her, a hand reaching across to rest on top of Zoey’s, over Rumi’s heart.

They clung tightly to her, desperate to touch even in sleep.

They knew what was coming.

Celine couldn't decide if knowing was worse or better. They'd had time to talk, to prepare, to say everything they could and try to soak every moment possible.

The anticipatory grief was also tearing them apart.

Celine hadn't had time to prepare when she'd lost Mi-yeong and Soo-jin. She was just left standing in the wreckage of her planned future.

She wasn't sure there was a good way to lose.

“She was supposed to outlive me. I can't… I can't protect her from this. I've failed.”

Celine looked up at the doctor. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Dr. Jung looked back towards the bedroom where Rumi was resting. She'd mostly been sleeping these past few days. Even when awake, she wasn't always lucid. Her girls hardly left her side, relying on Celine for reminders to eat, to drink, to shower.

“After all this, there will be two young women who need protection more than ever before.” The physician looked back at Celine, holding her gaze. “You will be there for them.”

Celine looked back to Rumi, surprised to see deep brown eyes staring back at her.

“Rumi?”

She smiled– tired, tinged with pain but alert. “Hey.”

“Rumi, I… I'm so sorry.” She forced herself to keep eye contact with Rumi despite the tears that blurred her vision. “I've failed you, in so many ways.”

“Ce-”

Celine shook her head. “I've learned, and I think I'm doing better, but that doesn't absolve me. I just need you to know. I love you, and I’m sorry.”

Rumi hummed softly. “Maybe… Maybe we both tried our best.”

Rumi turned her head to look at the women sleeping beside her. “Maybe sometimes our best still hurts people.”

She looked back at Celine. “You tried, and sometimes you messed up. You weren't expecting to raise a child, especially one like me.” Her eyes flicked back to her girls for a moment. “I wasn't expecting to get sick. It… hasn't always brought out the best in me.” She shrugged weakly. “Maybe we are both lucky to have very patient loved ones.”

Celine took Rumi's hand. “More lucky than I deserve to be.”

“Hmm, I wouldn't start a pity party you can't win.” Rumi quipped.

Zoey whimpered in her sleep, and Rumi turned her head to face her, whispering words of love that Celine couldn’t quite hear. Mira’s face buried deeper into Zoey’s back, pushing closer in even in the depth of sleep.

Celine looked away, an intruder in a sacred moment.

“I worry about them.” Celine looked back– Rumi's eyes were already beginning to droop. The moments they had with her were getting shorter. “It scares me. I won’t be here to protect them.”

The smell of hot, coppery blood permeated the room.

Celine was too late.

Mi-yeong lay in a pool of red on the ground, throat torn. Even dying, she reached for the wailing infant safe in her crib. “Ru…”

Mi-yeong’s scared eyes looked up at hers as Celine held her, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood.

Celine didn’t have time. She didn’t have time to say all the things she needed to say, the things Mi-yeong needed to hear. What is the last thing you say to the other half of your soul?

The infant whimpered, and her mother’s eyes flicked to her, hand twitching toward her still.

Celine knew Mi-yeong like she knew her own soul, reading the unasked plea in her last, wet gasp.

Celine steeled herself and met the eyes of the woman she loved as they dimmed.

“I swear to you Mi-yeong, I will protect her.”

Mi-yeong smiled as her soul joined the song of the Honmoon.

“I… Rumi, I made a promise to your mother a long time ago.”

Rumi's brow furrowed slightly in question as she waited for Celine to continue.

“Your mother loved you so much. Before she died, she asked me to care for you. To protect you, the one person she loved above anything else. I made that promise to her.”

Celine placed her other hand by Rumi's heart, next to the other two already resting there.

“Now I make this promise to you. I swear to you, Rumi, ttal, I will protect them.”

Rumi’s eyes glittered. “Eomma.”

~~~

In conclusion, hybrids are really cool. There are lots of cool kinds of hybrids from turtles to bugs to fruit. I think there should be more hybrids. Like what if we could have a turtle human hybrid and so you’d have a big shell you could hide in for protection? I think that would be turtle-y awesome! And we could eat bananagrapes and ride on horsetigers. Everyone should learn more about hybrids because they are cool. The end!

~~~

The first hydrangeas had just begun to bloom on Jeju when Rumi died.

The Honmoon had always been made of songs, of hopes, of dreams, of souls.

There was a public funeral in Seoul. A casket filled with flowers sat near the center of the room. The room smelled of recycled air–cool and sterile. Photos of Rumi from throughout her career lined the room. K-pop star, leader of Huntrix, child of the Sunlight Sisters, beloved idol. This was the funeral created by the label, carefully curated to present who Rumi was as a public figure. It wasn't meant to capture all of her–the silly, loving, driven, flawed young woman who'd changed so many lives. Her loved ones still attended, but saved the true depth of their grief for the private ceremony.

Elsewhere throughout Seoul and the world, shrines popped up at concert venues, train stations, malls, and radio stations. Places for grieving fans to remember, spilling over with flowers, drawings, plush animals, and letters. One grieving Hunter left a small token of love at every shrine she found–a folded paper star, vibrant purple with silvery streaks.

The Honmoon had been reborn from the love of three people, whose love wove the shattered fragments of the veil back together.

The private funeral was held at her childhood home, at the hanok where Rumi had been born and died. Her body was laid to rest next to her mothers, the cool soil embracing her.

The scent of hydrangeas drifted across the island on a warm breeze, swirling through the leaves of the dangsan tree. The ribbons, some centuries old and yet seemingly untouched by time, fluttered and twisted into colorful rainbows.

A new ribbon, made of lavender and golden silk, hung low on the branches.

Below the shining silk stood three women, each breaking and broken.

When a Hunter died, they became a part of the Honmoon, their soul joining the song of those before them.

As the sun set, two women remained by the freshly carved stone. Daylight faded, and the air turned chill. They didn’t feel it, lost in their grief.

The Honmoon flowed between them, curling around them like an embrace. They pulled at the sparkling lines, fell to their knees, and wept.

The love of a human couldn’t sway the will of the Honmoon, could never turn the tide of an existence so vast. Many human Hunters had loved and lost. The Honmoon was not bound to the love of one individual, not even to the love of a mother.

Inside the kitchen, a woman who’d lost and lost and lost made tea. She wished to feel nothing. Instead, she felt a nudge, a tide pulling her, a quiet song in the back of her mind she recognized but couldn’t quite place. A song that was almost a voice, go to them.

Not all Hunters were human.

So she went to them.

“Please come inside, ttal-deul. I’ve made tea.” She held out a hand to each of them.

Hands clasped like a promise.

The Honmoon had been remade from the love of three people. A love now shared between two living souls, and one who had returned to the starlight lines that had wrapped around her even in the womb. A soul so strong, a love so binding that even the stars could be moved.

They returned to the warmth of the house.

The Honmoon sang a lullaby, a requiem, an aubade. When they were ready to listen, they would hear it.