Chapter Text
Her entire life, she’d been taught to hate demons. She was raised to fight them, kill them, without an ounce of hesitation or sympathy. They were unfeeling, uncaring entities, agents of chaos and misery that could only bring doom upon the world. They were vile. Disgusting. Evil. That was the simple truth that she and all who came before held as gospel. That was the very foundation of their purpose, to protect the unseeing public from forces that sought to destroy them at every turn. So if those were the principles she believed to be true, in all her youthful innocence and naivete, how was she supposed to feel about herself? With the patterns that marred her skin from the day she was born, with the blood of human and demon intermingling within her, how could she ever be anything more than horrid? She was meant to be a hunter, a demon slayer. Her destiny was to seal the Golden Honmoon and purge the world of demons forever. Her future was one devoid of patterns, where she could finally be open with the people she loved most. So what future was there for a half-demon in a world purged of monsters? Where else could her story end but at the tip of a hunter’s blade?
It was easier to separate herself from the demon rather than face that cruel possibility. To see it as a parasite, a disease to be cured, an unknowable “other” set in place to thwart her true destiny. If she separated herself – her human self – from the demon that plagued her, it could be killed without robbing her of the life she dreamt of. It could be ripped away without a second thought, and she would move on without the shackles of patterned skin holding her back from all the world's joys.
She would finally be free.
Then it happened. They won. Gwi-Ma was defeated, his armies scattered, and instead of the gold they’d expected an Iridescent Honmoon was born anew. Secrets were revealed, bonds were betrayed and mended all within the same harrowing night. Rumi learned the hard way that freedom was not found in denial. It was found in self-acceptance, in forgiveness, in trust shared with those you hold closest. It was found in love.
The love of her fans, the love of her friends, was enough to bridge the impossible gap she had to contend with when she still struggled to love herself. The patterns did not vanish like Celine promised through all her childhood years, but she didn’t detest them as much as she once had. They’d lightened from harsh, neon purple to near pale white stripes across the majority of her body, and the fans had readily fawned over her “edgy new look.” They didn’t know they were once marks of shame across her skin. The patterns were not the only thing that had lingered, however. There was another change that happened that night, something deep in the core of her being that would rob her of her newfound peace.
In the absence of two decades of shame and self-loathing, pain filled the void within her. She’d accepted her demon, yes, she embraced it as a part of who she was and who she would always be. And all at once the presence of that demon was ripped away from her, burned away by Gwi-Ma’s wrath, and traitorously sealed by the strengthened Honmoon. She couldn’t feel it any more, only an unending ache in its stead.
Rumi was no stranger to pain. She was a hunter after all, they’d gone through rigorous training in their youth to prepare for what could have been an eternal struggle against hell itself. She and the girls had fought countless battles, nursed countless wounds, all for the sake of protecting humankind. After all their struggles and victories, was it really so selfish to want to enjoy a peaceful hiatus? Hadn’t she dealt with enough problems without having inexplicable pain tear through her? It pulsed through her in waves with every step she took, sending prickles up her legs, rattling her spine, crushing her skull at its peak. The brightness of the day felt like needles behind her eyes, and even with sunglasses to shield her she couldn’t fight off the headache mounting in her temples.
Mira nudged her with a pointed elbow, causing a new ache to flare along her arm. “Rumi, you good? You’ve been weirdly quiet today.”
“Yeah! Sorry, I’m good. Just a little tired I guess. That conference really wiped me out.”
She was referring, of course, to the press conference Bobby arranged to dispel the last lingering rumors of their “breakup” at the Idol Awards. They wanted the world to see that HUNTRIX would hold strong for many years to come, that the girls were closer than ever and ready to take their next big leap after a well deserved rest.
“Reporters are always a hassle,” Zoey sighed. “But! At least all that boring stuff is out of the way now, right? We can finally relax!”
“It’s about time,” Mira added.
“I have so many shows to catch up on! We are going to flatten that couch, like, ‘not getting up for three days’ flat.”
“Might as well be on the floor flat.”
“EXACTLY!”
Rumi nodded along, barely listening beyond the pounding in her head. “I just can’t wait to be home.”
“Word.”
The trio stepped out of an alleyway and onto the main street a few blocks away from their tower. They’d been driven about halfway from the conference before opting to walk the rest of the way by foot, wanting to pick up a buffet’s worth of food to parse out throughout the night. They already had two bags each, and would likely come home with three more by the time they made it home. Despite changing to something more casual to blend in, someone still recognized them as they crossed the street. Within moments a crowd had circled them with raucous energy, a joy that the girls would normally embrace with enthusiasm. Today, unfortunately, Rumi just wasn’t in the mood for it. She’d hoped the walk would help her loosen up for the rest of the evening. Instead, pain clustered at the base of her spine the longer she stood there with her plastered-on smile. Her fingers went stiff as a group of younger girls begged her for an autograph, joints seeming to creak through every motion. Her signatures were sloppy but legible; her facade was even sloppier. It was getting harder to mask her discomfort, especially as she removed the shades for a photo.
Their fans didn’t seem to notice the falter in her every step or the short, unsteady breaths she drew in, but Mira did. It didn’t take long for Zoey to pick up on it too, and the girls shared a worried look as their leader slumped in the pause between requests. It seemed unending, the stream of fans bounding over from every street corner and alleyway to say hello to them. Somehow Rumi kept grinning through every silent protest her body gave.
It was when her shoulders started to tremble that Mira finally intervened. “Sorry guys, as much as we’d love to stay and chat with you all our manager is calling us away,” she strode up behind Rumi, gently pulling her away from the crowd, “urgent meeting, I wish we could skip it but you know how it is.” Rumi balked at the sudden announcement.
“What? We don’t have—“
“But we promise to set up another meet-up soon!” Zoey chimed, stepping between her girls and their fans. “We love you all and we want to show our appreciation for supporting us all these years. So be on the lookout for future events, we’ll make more time for each and every one of you!”
Mira flashed a peace sign, then continued to usher Rumi away. “Yep, we really have to run but we’ll see you all soon!”
Before anyone could get another word in the pair ferried their leader away, ducking through a few alleys and side streets before Rumi finally forced them to stop.
“Wait, just — just wait a sec,” she gasped, bracing herself against a wall. “I… I need a minute, please…”
Zoey and Mira shared another look. This wasn’t just fatigue like they’d hoped, this was something worse.
“Rumi? What’s going on?” Zoey asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t… know. I just… I don’t know.”
“Hey, you promised you wouldn't hide things anymore,” Mira scolded.
“I’m not! I promise you I really don’t know what’s happening, it just hurts, all the time and I — I thought it would stop but it keeps coming back and I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
Rumi finally heaved out a sob as a fresh wave of pain rocked through her. She sagged to the floor, holding herself together as her body threatened to tear itself in two. The girls closed in on both sides to shield her in her moment of vulnerability, uncertain hands braced on her shoulders or otherwise floating uselessly in the air between them.
“How long has this been going on?” Mira asked.
“When we restored the honmoon… that’s when it started,” she sniffled. “I thought I was sore from the battle but it never got better. Some days are manageable but today it's just... it's too much.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Mira scowled at her own ignorance in the face of Rumi’s suffering. It had been weeks since the Idol Awards, weeks of Rumi silently working through unknown maladies, weeks of their friend carrying this weight alone. How did she not see it sooner?
“Look, I’m not mad at you okay? But I have to ask, why didn’t you tell us earlier?”
Rumi wiped a tear from her cheek, eyes trained on the ground as she found herself unable to meet Mira’s gaze. “I wanted to, but I was too afraid and confused to get the words out. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening to me, all I know is it hurts, and it doesn’t stop hurting no matter what I do. What if… what if my whole life is like this? What if this never heals?”
Zoey leaned down to lock eyes with Rumi, grinning up at her. “Don’t think like that! We’ll find a way to fix this, no sweat. There has to be a way to heal you. And until we find it we’ll be here to support you however you need us!”
“We’ve got your back,” Mira added with a nod.
For a moment, Rumi let herself believe in them. Not in the possibility of a solution or in the promise of healing, but just in them. Even if this was her life, her future, it was worth it if she could just hold on to this time together. Of all the awful things she’s suffered, she feared losing them the most.
“Thank you, both of you. I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”
“Of course!” Zoey beamed. “So, what do you need from us right now?”
“I think… I need help standing. Moving on my own right now is hard.”
Mira stared at her for a moment, then held her bags out for Zoey to take. Shuffling to crouch before Rumi, she presented her back with arms stretched out behind her. “Hop on.”
Rumi couldn’t help but blush. “Oh no,” she said, waving her hands in front of her, “it’s ok, I can still walk.”
“You can. But you don’t have to.”
“Mira —"
“Rumi.” She peered over her shoulder, brows furrowed but no less kind. “Let me do this for you.”
It seemed like an impossible request. She wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable, wasn’t supposed to want or need help from anyone. Rumi wasn’t allowed to be weak. If she was too weak, too needy, the demon would gain control. If she wasn’t the perfect vigil Celine groomed her to be, the world would fall before she could even think to be sorry.
“Dude, my arms are getting tired. Are you moving or not?”
Then again, Celine had been wrong before. The world was safe now. Maybe she could let her perfect visage slip, just for today. Rumi groaned as she shifted onto her knees, wrapped her arms around Mira’s shoulders, and allowed herself to be hoisted up onto her back. The tallest of the three had no issues standing for the both of them, having built up strength through dance and battle alike. The three began to move towards home once again.
“Thank you,” Rumi muttered, holding a little tighter. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy?”
“It’s not like I’d put you down if you were. I’m not a quitter.”
“Still… thank you.”
“Any time.”
For a short while, the pressure on Rumi lightened. The pain in her spine faded to background noise, the headache dulled to nothing more than an echo of a throb. She could almost remember what it was like to feel normal. Rumi allowed herself to hope that maybe things would be okay after all.