Survivor

by rigatoni_or_something

Summary:

Twenty two years. It had been down there for twenty two years. And it didn't seem like She was ever going to let up.

 

In this world, demons have been accepted into society--mostly. There are still some who go out of their way to make the demons' lives harder. For example, the Hunters--an infamous, anonymous group known for targeting demons and killing them without repercussion.

But then one of the leading members falls in love with a demon, and bears a child. The member was executed, but the child was kept alive. Kept alive and tortured by one of the other leading members.

 

Inspired by Before and After (Kpop Demon Hunters) by KariahDreams!!
(If you see this, tysm for writing that beautiful story)

Notes:

• Inspired by Before and After (KPop Demon Hunters) by KariahDreams

Chapter 1: The Dark

     It was dark.

     It had always been dark.

     All it knew was darkness.

     The Dark was like a blanket, thick and eternal. A never ending hug.

     Sometimes, The Dark was like Her. Cold, sharp. The Dark turned away from it like it was something to disregard. Something that didn't matter.

     She did that too. For as long as it could remember, She had been nothing but a distant figure. The few times She dared to approach it, Her only intent was tormenting the poor, pitiful creature. The closest contact between the two was with the help of a stick. A loose stick that snapped at the edges and cracked every time it hit it. Unlike the food stick, and the play stick, this stick wasn't hard. This stick was flimsy. One end felt similar to the soft-chains connected to the water bucket.

     It sat on the floor. Heavy chains weighed down on its neck and wrists. Its legs were stuck together, too, by their own chains. 

     It was used to this. It had no memories outside of The Dark. Perhaps it had been born down here, if a creature like itself could even be born. No, it must've crawled from the depths of hell itself. Fitting for something like it.

     Sometimes, when The Dark was too much, water would appear from its eyes. It would do its best to lap at the water; the water bucket only lowered once or twice a week. But its attempts were often in vain, and the few times it succeeded, the water tasted dirty and sharp. Not cold and fresh like the water bucket's water. 

     A soft growl filled the silent darkness. It flinched, tugging at its chains in panic before realizing the noise was coming from itself. It'd heard that noise thousands of times before, whenever The Dark began to bite and its stomach felt like it was caving inwards. Yet it never got any less frightening to hear. Noise was something scarce; hearing was only preserved for Her shouting. For the sound of the pain-stick hitting its back. For the soft splashes that indicated the water bucket had finally been let down.

     A long time ago, the hearing was also used for its own noises. It would growl and snarl and hiss. It would yelp in pain or whimper. The eye-water used to come with noise, too. But that all stopped eventually. It wasn't sure when.

     The growling persisted. It wanted it to stop. It didn't like the noise. It was so used to silence that any use of its sensitive ears felt like a crack of the pain-stick. Noise could get Her attention. The last thing it wanted to hear was Her words, despite the familiarity of them.

      Eventually, it'd managed to cease the growling. But the emptiness remained. Hunger, it'd heard Her say once. It was Hungry. 

      Hungry was a word that sounded nicer than it felt. Hungry, ironically, sounded like a food. The word didn't account for the gnawing dullness and aching pains. Nor did it account for the helplessness. The always wondering when you'll get scraps again. The clawing at yourself, hoping to ease the inside pain by outnumbering it with outside pain.

     The word couldn't even begin to grasp the begging, the pleading and begging, that came with it. The begging was met with silence.

     It was met with darkness.

 

     It didn't have a way to track time. Instead, it would sit and count. Not count, for it didn't know numbers, but it would mumble nonsense periodically. Every few mumbles, it would drag its claw into the dirt beneath it and carve a line. After so many lines, what it called a day, it would cover up the lines and start again for the night.

     The more lines, the later it was.

     It was easy to dedicate all your time to these lines when you had nothing to do besides sit and wait.

    She had come back that next day. It had braced itself, twisting in its chains as She drew nearer. In Her hand was a small chunk of meat. The scent of stale blood flooded its senses, and immediately it stopped struggling. It sniffed the air. 

     "Creature," She scorned. It looked up. "Yeah, that's all you are. Bloodthirsty monster." She tossed the meat chunk at it. The meat hit its nose and fell to the floor. Dust rose up around it, and it coughed. Despite the dirt, it leaned down and took the food into its mouth, chewing slowly.

     The meat was old. More fat than actual meat. It didn't care. It hadn't had food in a few days. Multiday, it had dubbed the span of those days.

     It hadn't eaten in a Multiday.

     She glared down at it for a moment, watching in disdain the way it licked its own mouth, desperately trying to wring out any more flavor.

     "I only gave you a morsel, you greedy creature."

     Greedy. New word. It thought for a moment. Perhaps a same-thing as hungry?

     Without another word, She left the room. It could hear something sharp and scrape-y as the door slid into place. The same noise as when it would run its claws over the stone whenever they got so long it hurt.

     It was halfway done with the lines for the day when the water bucket lowered. Food and water in one day? Was She finally being nice? 

     Was it finally doing something right?

 

     A soft mumble escaped its mouth as it drew the last line. The mumbles weren't just mumbles, though--to any normal person, they'd mean nothing. Mere noises. To it, however, it was a way of keeping track. Each line had a different mumble, and to ensure every line was accounted for, it would spend roughly an hour mumbling to itself in different pitches and lengths. 

     All the lines were there.

     It curled in on itself. The chains shifted uncomfortably underneath it. It didn't need to sleep. It didn't want to sleep, either. Sleeping felt exposed.

     She had found it sleeping once, well into the middle of the day. It had been so distraught when it awoke. The lines were messed up. Over half wouldn't be marked, and it would throw everything off.

     Meanwhile, She had not been pleased about it sleeping in. She'd grabbed the pain-stick immediately, heaving the sharp soft-chain down like the stick owed her personally. The shots rained down like bullets, pelting its hide and leaving it so red its patterns blended in. 

     It had woken up to the pain. For the first time in many, many Multidays, noises came with its eye-water. But She didn't stop.

     It didn't get fed for days after that.

     Despite its resistance, the lull of sleep was too great. Although not necessary, rest was energizing--whatever energy it had left. 

     Its sleep was dark and uninterrupted. On very rare occasions, it'd have a dream. Glimpses of colors, of the world outside The Dark. But these glimpses always vanished from its memories once it awoke. 

     The sleep lasted for longer than it anticipated. It awoke to the sound of nails against stone. Its ears flattened against its head.

     She was back, it realized. Something had to be happening--She never came this often.

     "Creature," She spoke harshly. "Get up."

     It pulled itself to its feet, trying to stretch despite its chains.

     She grabbed its chin, staring directly into its eyes. It would've snarled and fought back, but it had no energy left. It never had the energy, ever, to be fair.

     Her expression darkened as She observed its face. Thin, dirty, pale. Its eyes were a dull yellow. They used to shine, but years of this dimmed them.

     It bared its fangs weakly. She didn't acknowledge it--there wasn't anything it could do to Her anyway. Even if it could, it didn't dare.

     "Filthy," she muttered. "Keeping you alive is a chore. You're damn lucky I made a promise."

     It knew filthy, at least. That meant it was covered in dirt again. It could feel the way the grime coated its skin, an itchy and irritating layer it couldn't do anything about.

     It had gotten used to that feeling years ago.

     "I don't know why I bother. I could break that promise anytime I want--it's not like she'd be able to know."

     There was another She? It tilted its head. The only She it knew was Her, the one standing right in front of it. 

      If it was a creature, what were the Shes?

      A soft noise rose from its throat. Not exactly a word, more than a mumble, but not a whine either. Just a noise.

     "Silence yourself." She brought her hand across its face. It shook its head, an actual whine escaping it. 

     It hadn't verbally responded in MultiMultidays. What was going on?

     She dropped it, letting it fall and catch itself, its claws scrabbling against stone and chains.

     "I really do consider breaking that promise, you know." She stared down at it, Her nose wrinkling in disgust. "But death would be mercy, wouldn't it? And a creature like you doesn't deserve mercy."

     It didn't reply, still mulling over the other She, along with trying to distill the ringing in its head from hitting the ground. It heard the words, though. It'd heard mercy a few other times. Mercy was something She didn't want it to have. That must've meant it was something good. And if death was mercy, whatever death meant, then it must've been good too. Did "death" mean getting out? Getting away from Her?

     It really wished it understood language.

     She stood there for another minute. No words were spoken. She watched it crawl back to its bed--a small dirt pile streaked with slashes. Its chains trailed behind it, tugging gently as it neared their limits.

     She assumed the lines were for pent up violence.

     "Bloodthirsty creature."

 

     It curled in on itself, facing the darkest stone wall. It could tell She was still watching, even if it couldn't see Her. It felt Her eyes on it. Felt the way She scrutinized every mark and pattern on its body like it was a disease.

     It ignored Her.

     Its tail brushed over the lines in the dirt. It'd neglected the lines for more than half of the day, it realized with a frown. It decided to give up on keeping track.

     Was there any need for it when everything was the same every day?

Chapter 2: Hunters

Notes:

Just some world building+ introducing characters
Really short chapter
I'm gonna try posting one a day <3

     The Hunters were a careful group. After generations of struggle and oppression, demons had finally began to be accepted into society. The Demon King died centuries ago, although nobody knew how, and the demons were forced to integrate into humanity. The humans hated them at first. They were captured, scapegoated, blamed for things they had nothing to do with. Beaten, abused, tortured just for their patterns. Recently, though, thanks to the effort of many--including both human and demon--activists, demons were finally granted rights. It became taboo to be openly discriminatory to them, and an outright crime.

     This didn't stop the hate completely, though.

     For example: the Hunters. A group of individuals who secretly targeted demons. Sometimes they killed, sometimes they burnt down the demon's homes, and worst of all--occasionally they executed. Worse than killing, for the killings were quick and painless. The executions were brutal. Slow. Oftentimes public.

     Usually, it was the last group's responsibility to train the next generation of Hunters. But Miyeoung was dead, and the other Hunter had left the country, leaving Celine as the last of them to train.

     She had five girls at her hands. Usually, only three Hunters were selected. But she wanted back up, just in case.

     None of the girls really stood out to her. She wasn't even the one to pick them, really--they instead had to sign up through a complicated and well-hidden process. She was just the trainer.

     Each trainee had their own "quirks", though, aggravating as they may be.

     Especially Mira.

     The pink-haired one was the epitome of rebellion. Always trying to act out or be different in some way. Always mocking her.

     But the group was insistent she was a good candidate.

     Celine just wanted the training to be done already.

     They'd been training for years now, since the youngest of the girls (Zoey) was 12 and the oldest (Mira) was 15.

     They were 19 and 21 now.

 

     "Today," Celine instructed the group, "We'll be dedicating completely to hunting practice. Thanks to Al, all the targets are already set up."

     Al, a tanner-skinned girl with short black hair, suppressed a grin.

     "Summon your weapons."

     In practiced sync, the group all pulled their respective weapons from their bags. They set up in front of their corresponding targets and prepared.

     "Ready?" Celine looked around. Everybody had near perfect stance. Nobody faltered or held their weapon wrong. "Hunt!"

      They lunged.

 

      The training didn't commence until the sun began to set and the sky turned a pretty shade of pinkish orange. Celine had retreated to her house, as they trained in her yard, and the girls were left to pack up before heading home themselves.

     Zoey was hauling her backpack up, heavy with notebooks and sketchbooks. The tallest of the girls (which, surprisingly, wasn't Mira) approached her. 

     "Hey, American!" She sneered.

     Zoey rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Minji?"

     "Look!" She pointed at the sky. "It's you, fag."

     "Haha, very funny." She didn't look up.

     "What is your problem?" Minji shoved her shoulder. "You can never take a joke, can you?"

     A deep voice called out from behind them, "A joke is supposed to be funny, dumbass."

     Zoey relaxed.

     Mira grabbed Minji by the arm, pushing her away.

     "Why don't you mind your damn business?" Minji scoffed.

     "It is my business when you mess with my friend," she snapped. 

     "Aww, your girlfriend? Didn't realize you could go that low, Mira. I thought you were better than that."

     Zoey and Mira shared a glance.

     "One, friend-friend. Two, you expected better from me of all people?" She laughed. "As-fucking-if."

     Minji turned on her heel. "I don't wanna hang with you sickos anyway. I hope the demons eat you first." She cackled before walking away. Mira rolled her eyes.

     "They'd rather die than eat you," she muttered. Zoey laughed. 

      "Yeah, she'd... She'd probably, uh, give them, uh... a disease!... Jeez, that sounded better in my head."

     Mira didn't judge. She threw her own bag over her shoulder and offered a hand to Zoey. "It's getting late. Come on, I'll walk you home."

     Zoey didn't wait, grabbing the taller girl's hand and walking down the field. It was a short walk from there to Zoey's apartment. 

     "You can crash at my place, if you want." Zoey suggested. "Since, y'know, your parents are..."

     "Thanks, Zo." Mira agreed. "That's nice of you."

     Zoey laughed. "You know me, always looking out for my friends."

     The tall girl looked the shorter one up and down. "Heh, yeah, 'friend'." Mira rolled her eyes.

 

     Somewhere across the field, was a fuming Minji.

Chapter 3: Caged

Summary:

The creature escapes its chains and She must put an end to it before it is too strong.

Notes:

Hey guys <3
tw for slightly graphic details of abuse (starvation)
enjoy the chapter, this one's one of my favorites

ALSO there's an MCR reference in this chapter first one to point it out gets a shout-out next chapt

      The chains were no longer enough. She had found it, somehow having escaped its restraints. The shackles laid at its sides, while it was hunched over and desperately trying to put them back together. It knew it was in trouble.

     She curled her lips, Her nose wrinkling in disgust. "How?" She demanded. She grabbed the broken chains. They were snapped in half, one side connected to the floor and the other still attached to the collar it wore. She ran her fingers along the jagged edge. These chains were an unbreakable metal forged from the hardest metal. A chill settled in Her spine. Her fears were coming true.

      It stared up at Her. Its eyes were big and watery. A strangled whine rose from its throat as it realized its mistake.

     If it weren't for the monstrosity in front of Her, She might have felt bad. But it had fangs and claws and growls and patterns. Anything with patterns was not to be trusted.

     "You... you animal." She spat. It curled in on itself like a beast in repose. "I really thought you were getting better," She continued. "That you were beginning to be tamed. Trained. You were finally listening. You weren't violent."

    She dropped the chains. They hit the stone with a loud clang. It covered its ears, patterns flashing in distress. "I was wrong. You're nothing more than a monster. You've gotten too strong." With a sigh, she summoned an Ingeom, the sword glistening with purple threads of poison. 

     It broke into a sob as the Ingeom pointed at its throat. The patterns were red again, its natural instinct desperately trying to scare Her off, and its tail was tucked between its legs.

     A soft pain pricked at its neck. The sword had a glowing heat. Although not quite piercing it yet, it could still feel the warmth as the tip pressed into its skin.

     She watched as it cried. It hadn't expressed such comprehendible emotions in years. Her hand shook, just a little, though She forced Herself to remain steeled. "Demons are demons," She reminded Herself. "Animalistic nothings with no chance at life or rehabilitation."

     It held eye contact with Her, its yellow eyes searching Her brown ones for any semblance of pity. It could sense Her hesitation, knew She was faltering in Her attempts to end it.

     This was death, it realized.

     It was beginning to not like mercy.

     She pressed the Ingeom closer. A thin line of blood trailed from where the sword began to puncture its flesh. The blood was a deep, dark black.

     She stared at the blood. Her eyes widened as She took in the color--or lack thereof. "Disgusting..." She muttered, barely audible. "Are... Are you even half-human?"

     It whimpered in pain.

     The blood coated the sword. The purple blade was fading--the poison couldn't hurt the creature. That should've been impossible.

     In Her shock, She dropped the sword. The Ingeom clattered against the stone, causing the creature to peel back and cover its ears once more. The sword disappeared into her bag, drops of purple hitting the dirt as the poison stained it. Black residue remained on the ground.

     She watched it for a moment. Observed the way it trembled and tried to make itself smaller. Studied its self-soothing motions--the way it rocked itself, the way it ran its hands over its arms to keep warm, the way its tail hit the ground rhythmically. The rhythm gave it something to focus on, She assumed. A distraction.

     It no longer met Her gaze. Its eyes were glued to the ground, as if trying to memorize every grain of dirt. She almost let out a laugh at the thought; there was no way its brain could even try to hold that much knowledge. It had the mental capacity of a newborn dog, probably.

     A heavy sigh filled the silence. She turned away. "I can't do it," She whispered. "Why can't I? It's not like you're even aware of what's going on. There isn't a damn thought in your head, is there?"

     She scrutinized the way its eyes were big and distant. "You're like a dog," She sneered. "At least a dog makes good company." 

     It didn't reply.

     "Come on, get up." She grabbed its arm, hauling it to its feet. It stumbled, not quite used to walking, and She let it fall. "I said get up," She scoffed.

      Gripping its forearm, She led it out of the dark room. It hissed almost viscerally as the bright lights of the hallway hit its sensitive eyes. It was brighter than anything it'd ever seen before. Its pupils shrank and its vision blurred. It was so used to the struggle of making things out in the pitch dark that the easiness of sight now felt like a puzzle. It could barely comprehend what it was seeing.

     Colors it couldn't name. Textures it couldn't imagine. It wanted to reach its hands out and run its claws over the walls. They were a material as strong as stone, yet not as hard, and little grooves were laced all over it. The walls had their own patterns.

     Its tail wagged gently behind it. It was still on edge, but the novelty of the world outside amazed it. These colors were better than the ones it glimpsed in its dreams.

     She didn't allow it a moment to gape. She ushered it down the hall. They approached another door, bigger and thicker than the one from the dark room. It watched as She slid multiple mechanisms into place, each unlocking with a click. The process took minutes, and its foot was thrumming against the floor to keep it focused. Lest it sway on its feet and end up falling--it'd walked farther today than it had in the last few years.

     She dragged it through the door and into another room. Brighter, but this light was natural. The lights in the hallway had burned its eyes, being an artificial, unbearable white. This light came from nowhere in particular. It just filled the room. The room was stuffed with things it'd never seen before. It couldn't even grasp the concept of them. There was another door, but behind it was only piles of the fabric garments She wore, clean and well-kept unlike the raggedy cloth it sported.

     Another thing it noticed, there were no walls. Beyond the room was a vast field of greens it had only ever imagined. It felt drawn to the world outside. It wanted nothing more to run through the grass. To feel the dew between its claws. To kick up dirt and jump in the mud. To pounce after whatever critters dared to cross its path. Without a thought, it bolted. She turned Her head, watching in confusion as it ran. Almost immediately it hit its head against something, falling back with a hiss of pain. She had to hold back a laugh. It was the creature's suffering that was amusing, She told Herself unconvincingly, not the creature itself.

     Shaking its head to ease off the pain, it pressed a hand against the wall. There was a wall there, but it couldn't see the wall for some reason.

     "That's a window." She rolled Her eyes.

     Wind-dow?

     "Get away from it, creature. It's no use."

     It backed off from the "window". Instead, it continued to take in its surroundings.

     In the middle of the room was what it assumed to be a nest. The nest was bigger than it--if it were to climb on top of it, it could probably stretch out completely and still only take up half the space.

     It couldn't resist, though, and immediately jumped onto the nest. It was the softest thing it'd ever been on. It nearly melted into the fabric, deciding instead to curl up directly in the middle. It lay there, fetal position, and it was like all of its problems went away. Its bones didn't ache. Its head didn't hurt. It was warm.

     It could fall asleep right here.

     And for once, sleep didn't feel dangerous. 

 

     She knew it had taken over Her bed. Out of the corner of Her eye, She watched it climb up and almost immediately doze off. She could hear the softest rumble from its throat. Its fucking purring, She realized.

     She sighed. Damn demon. Regardless, She let it be. She could use the moment to think of what to do next without worrying about whatever it was up to.

     A sleeping demon was better than a wandering one.

     But a dead one would be best.

     She dug through a cabinet, pulling out random knickknacks and trinkets before finally reaching what She was looking for: a small dog cage. It was designed to hold up to a hundred pounds--the creature was under that, so that wasn't an issue--but the main concern was whether it would fit. Comfortability wasn't a necessity, either, and She'd rather it not be comfortable anyways, but there was a distinct difference between the fit being uncomfortable and the fit being impossible.

     She didn't wake the creature yet. She just watched as it slept.

     Its chest rose and fell with each breath. Its skin, covered in dirt and scrapes, looked as if it had been horribly wrapped around its bones, like a shrink-wrapped fossil. Its ribs were jagged and flared, as if they mught burst through its flesh as any moment. Even its patterns were dull--perhaps buried under the dirt, perhaps because it was the more content than it had ever been in its life. They were a dim yellow, and a warmth emanulated from them. If they weren't the literal marks of the devil, one might say the patterns looked majestic, or--dare it be said--even divine.

     She shook Her head. This creature was nothing more than an amalgamation forged from the worst of humanity and demonity combined. A direct descendant of the demon king himself--it was his great grandson who (for She refused to believe the relationship was anything good) corrupted the creature's mother--it was foolish to think the creature could be civilized. 

     "Wake up," She snapped. It jolted awake. She heaved the crate onto the bed. "Get in."

     It cocked its head in confusion. What was this? It looked like a small room, but the walls were made of thin sticks. Were these more play-sticks? It gently bit them before wrenching back. No, the play-stick wasn't this hard. This felt like stone and blade mixed.

     "I said get in!" She hit the back of its head, causing the creature to yelp. It hesitated, still unsure of what She wanted. "In!" She repeated. "Goddamnit, Rumi, can you listen for once in your pitiful life?"

     It looked up at Her. If it could speak, it'd probably ask who that was. For it knew itself as a creature, and nothing more.

     But it wasn't completely senseless. That word was probably just another insult, another same-thing to monster and animal and thing.

     It also thought it was figuring out Her instructions. Was it supposed to go inside the crate? 

     She'd said "in".

     It looked Her in the eyes one last time before slowly crawling into the cage. It barely fit; its knees were pulled up to its chest and its head was bent down at an unnatural angle.

     "There you go! Good creature," She praised, her voice dripping with sarcasm and thinly-veiled impatience. The door slammed shut, rattling the metal. The sound was like screeches, piercing its ears and causing a panic.

     "Calm down." Her words were stern and left no room for debate.

     Not that it could debate if it wanted to.

     The crate, designed for transporting smaller dogs (typically the size of an adult beagle, for example) conveniently had a thick handle on top. 

      She wasted no time dragging the carrier out of the building. It was Her house, not that it knew, and inside Her room was the locked-up pathway to its former cell. The only thing that had been between it and the girls She trained was the heavily-secured door and a deeply buried secret.

     Outside, She hauled the crate onto the back of an old truck. This wasn't Her main car, obviously--She'd never stoop so low as to use such a rusty pity like this--but where She was going, She didn't want Her car getting dirty.

     As the truck started up, it sat in the crate, trying to make out what was going on. Chills ran over its skin, breaths of cold air that brought both shivers and relief. It could make out the sky above it, a bright blue that seemed to stretch on forever. It observed the big light ball in the sky, as well. But after a moment of trying to decipher the ball's purpose, it had to tear its eyes away with a yelp. 

     The light hurt, it noted.

      Is that why it had been subjected to The Dark its whole life?

      It felt like it had been caged for days, as the truck rumbled down an indefinite dirt road. It hated the way the dirt sounded underneath the wheels. The rocks popped and cracked and its ears felt assaulted.

      Finally, the truck came to a stop. The sky had turned to darkness, now, illuminated by billions of tiny light balls. When it looked at these ones, they didn't burn. Instead, it felt drawn to the sight of them. They formed shapes, dancing across the sky. One of them shined brighter than the others, directly above it. It craned its neck as best as it could inside the crate. That light ball... It was watching the creature. 

      There was something about that light ball. The creature continued to observe it, feeling an odd sense of... Well, it didn't know what. But it was the complete opposite of whatever it felt when She was around.

      Speaking of which.

      She yanked open the truck bed before grabbing the cage handle. It winced as it was handled roughly, the cage walls indenting its flesh. A stale scent flooded its nose. Stale but heavy. 

     It smelt like that time it'd killed a rat in its cell, but couldn't eat it due to its fur, so instead the corpse decomposed in its nest.

     It remembered the scent lingering, even after the rat was completely gone. It remembered the scent of blood, too, which it had desperately tried to clean off of itself, resorting to its unholy tongue.

     She assumed it liked the taste of blood.

     It, however, did anything but.

 

     The cage was dropped carelessly onto the side of the dirt road. Dust rose around it, causing it to choke and cough until it cleared its throat. 

     She crouched down, looking into its eyes for one last time. "Creature," She said, almost wistfully. "For twenty-two years I've done everything I could to maintain something like you." A harsh laugh escaped Her lips. "Dare I say I might even miss you. But this is for the best, I promise you. I made a promise that I wouldn't kill you. But you cannot stay alive, either, for the world's sake. My whole life was dedicated to training as a Hunter, training to eradicate your kind. Your mother was, as well. She shouldn't have strayed from her duties." She sighed, reaching a hand through the metal bars to gently touch the creature's hair.

     "Damn you," She said, standing up. She turned to leave. "Damn you."

     The truck drove off with a soft hum. It watched as She went farther and farther away. The only thing it had ever known was gone.

     It was stranded, locked in a too-small confinement and in a place it had never been before. The ground around it was mucky, and dozens of wriggly, fleshy lines crawled through the mud. It decided to call them Wigglies.

 

     Multidays passed.

     It didn't know how it was still here, in all honesty. The light burnt its skin, the mud made it itchy. Sometimes it would wake up covered in bites from tiny black crawling-things. Those bites stung. 

     Its stomach felt like it was carving itself out from the inside. The feeling made it want to retch, but there was nothing to retch up.

     Was it possible for a tree to be so hollow that its bark could no longer hold up? 

     That was how it felt. It might collapse in on itself. If the Hunger went too far, it would try to grab a Wiggly and eat it. But those tasted horrible and felt even worse going down. It was like they danced down its throat, writhing and squirming as it tried to force it down.

     Starving felt better.

     There was one day, god it must've been weeks later, that it decided it was done. It hung its head. Its tail wagged for one last time, weak and shaky. It ran its claws over its patterns.

     The patterns were the cause of all this.

     It didn't know why. One thing it did know, though, was that it had patterns and She hadn't. Were patterns a creature thing? Were the Shes immune to the flashing, emotion-betraying streaks across their skin?

     It didn't have the strength to question anymore. This was it. This was mercy. This was death. This was everything She didn't want it to have.

     This sucked.

     No wonder She didn't want it to have this.

     It took in the sky one last time. It was dark again. For the first time, the brightest light ball was nowhere to be found.

     It had given up on the creature, too.

     The last thing it saw was The Dark. It was familiar, comforting. The Dark was something it knew. Something it could trust. The Dark hugged it once more. Come, The Dark seemed to call. You're safe now.

Chapter 4: Hope

Summary:

The Dark becomes The Light

Notes:

tysm to the people reading<3 yall my favs fr
from here on out, things get better for our beloved Rumi!!
also if you missed the tag, Zoemira is an established relationship in this fic

    The road was dark, illuminated only by the headlights of the taxi. The car rattled, for the road was unpaved and bumpy, and the girls inside groaned every time they hit their heads against a window.

     "Why'd we choose this route?" The tall one muttered. The other, significantly shorter and far more energetic, piped up.

     "Because it's quicker, Mir, and we cannot be late to the reunion."

     Mira rolled her eyes. "Zoey, these reunions happen thrice a year. Your parents aren't gonna die if we're five minutes late to one."

     "Yes, buttttt..." Zoey pulled out a photo of the last reunion, where her parents were sharing a drink. "They're finally getting on good terms again. It's been nothing but nonstop fighting since I was 12--this is really important to me, okay?"

     Mira sighed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "I know. We'll get there in time, baby, don't worry." She gently kissed the smaller girl's forehead, who melted instantly.

     "Thanks, Mir, I..." She trailed off, her gaze focused on the window. Or, more accurately, what was outside of it. "Stop the taxi!" She gasped.

     The driver stepped on the brakes and the car lurched forward, skidding to a stop. Zoey threw open the door, clambering over Mira in a rush to get out.

     "What-" Mira watched in confusion as she ran back down the road.

     "Mira! Get down here!" Zoey yelled. Her voice was laced with a panicked concern.

    "Jesus Christ..." Mira unbuckled, turning to the driver. "We're coming back, just please hang on. Zoey!" She got out and rushed down the road.

     Zoey was roughly twenty feet down, crouching above the ground just off the road.

     "Zoey, we're in the middle of a swamp, what the hell are you doing?"

     The girl was kneeled in front of some sort of animal crate. She was frantically trying to open it.

     Mira scrunched her eyebrows. "Is that a damn do--"

     "No-" Zoey started. But Mira had already saw it.

     "Shit..." Her eyes widened. "Get that cage opened. Now!" 

     Zoey continued to struggle. The latch was stuck. "I can't!" She gasped. Mira took over, using mere brute force to pry it open. The thing inside doubled over immediately, and they hauled it onto the grass.

     "It's a demon," Zoey whispered. The creature lay face-first in the dirt, its chest barely moving. Its patterns were so dim it was almost impossible to see them. Its tail was frayed and its hair was a tangled mess so dirty the color was unintelligible.

     "It's in such bad condition," Mira added. She gently ran her hand over its flared ribcage. Its skin felt delicate--not in the soft baby way, but in the "one touch and it's all going to tear open" way. 

     "Demon or not, who could put a living being through this? They... Zoey, they look like a damn child."

     Zoey's heart wrenched. "They do..." She murmured. "Oh, no, Mira... Who could do this to a child? We have to help!"

     Mira looked down at it again. She feared it was too late. But the least she could do was try. She leaned down and gently picked the demon up, holding it like a child. Instinctively, its head curled into the crook of her neck.

     "She's moving," she whispered. "That's a good sign." She began staggering back to the taxi, struggling with the uneven weight. Zoey followed close behind. Her hand interlaced with the demon's, hoping to offer it some comfort. It didn't seem to respond to her touch, although it did take great care to make sure it didn't accidentally claw her.

     When they made it back to the taxi, the driver looked at them in immeasurable concern. "What... Was that... Where..."

     "Just get us to the nearest hospital, please," Mira told him. "I'm really sorry for the change of route."

     The driver didn't seem to mind. He put his headphones on and sped down the road at a probably illegal speed. 

     Zoey was already on the phone, quickly contacting 119 and relaying the situation to them. She explained it was a demon, and let out a sigh of relief when the dispatcher didn't turn them away--legally they couldn't, but still.

     Meanwhile, the demon was still passed out, although it seemed to respond to small verbal cues. (For example, a "hello" would earn a soft "mm".) It had been repositioned, now curled on top of Mira's lap. Mira was running her hand through its hair as gently as she could. Her stomach churned as she felt the dirt and bugs infesting it. 

     "Who did this to you?" She whispered. But she knew she wouldn't get a response.

     Zoey finished on the phone and hung up. "Alright, they're already prepping. We should be there in a few minutes, providing no traffic." 

     "What'd you tell them?" Mira asked.

     "Injured kid found on the side of the road in a dog cage. Starved and dirty. That's pretty much all we know."

     "I feel like that's sugarcoated, but I know it's not." Mira sighed. "This poor thing. I don't care if she's a demon. Nobody deserves this."

     "Yeah.." Zoey agreed softly. She rubbed the demon's shoulder, watching as it tensed up before relaxing.

 

     The taxi pulled into the hospital parking lot. There were already a few doctors waiting outside. The girls got out, paid and thanked the driver profoundly, and carried the demon up to the doors.

     "Are you the callers?" A sweet, deep voice called out.

     "Yeah, with the kid." Mira replied. A nurse approached them, taking in the sight of the demon with a heavy expression.

     "Oh, no, this is horrible." She gently took hold of the unconscious creature. "Come on inside."

     They loaded it onto an ICU bed and quickly wheeled it into the hospital. A room was already prepared. Mira and Zoey followed behind the doctors. The nurse was explaining something to them, but they were too worried to focus.

     Unfortunately, once the bed was in place, the girls were ushered out the room.

     "I'm so sorry, sweeties, but the doctors need room to work. Just stay out here in the waiting room--we'll update you as soon as possible. Okay?"

     They nodded. The waiting room reeked of medical alcohol and a sterile cleanliness that felt, oddly, anything but clean. Very faint screaming came from one room, while machinery whirred in another.

     There weren't many others in the waiting room, thanks to the time. 1:42 A.M., the clock read. Besides the girls, there was an old man sleeping in a corner and one pregnant couple closest to the desk.

     "Mira..?" Zoey started, quiet and hesitant. "Do you think she's gonna survive?"

     "Honestly, Zo?" Mira sighed. "I don't know. We can hope. But she's in pretty critical condition. Even a blind guy could see that."

     Zoey leaned onto Mira's side. "I don't want her to die. It feels wrong--she's a demon, and we're trained to, you know, kill them, but..."

     "I understand." Mira held the shorter girl's hand. "I... I don't know if I could keep training after this. If she lives, I know damn well I'm fighting tooth and nail to make sure we can take care of her."

     "Me too," Zoey murmured. "Celine was training three other girls. What if we quit? Those girls can become the next Hunters--three's typical for a generation anyways, right?"

     "You're right..." Mira nodded. "We'll contact Celine as soon as this is all over. Definitely don't tell her we're harboring a demon, but just explain we cannot keep up with a Hunter's duties."

     Zoey was about to reply when the doctor from before approached them. "I have some good news and bad news," he announced.

     "Good news first," the girls said in unison.

     "Your friend is going to live." The girls let out a sigh of relief. "However," the doctor continued, "That's what we know as of right now. She's still in very critical condition, and if anything new arises, she might not make it. We've run some tests, and have a few diagnoses. Along with important information. For one, that is not a kid. That is a severely malnourished young adult. We did some brain scans. Based on her brain development, she's roughly between twenty and twenty-five years old." He paused. "And yet, she weighs only 87 pounds. Severely underweight."

     Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance.

     "I can give you the rest of the details, if you'd just follow me."

     He led them back to the room the demon was in. She was still passed out, and dozens of machines seemed to be connected to her. It made the creature seem even smaller.

     "This looks like a really bad case of abuse," the doctor told them. "If you look closely, you can see on her neck, that part where the skin looks indented? Presumably some sort of collar. Metal, by the looks of it. She's got identical marks on her wrists and ankles. Probably chains, I'm afraid."

     The girls didn't meet his eyes. Instead, they continued watching the demon. They watched the way its chest rose and fell.

     "And you said you... Found it caged on the side of the road?"

     "Yes," Mira nodded. "On a back road, middle of a swamp. We left the cage, but that thing, it was so small.." She trailed off.

      The doctor made a note on his clipboard. "Whoever did this is certainly sick," he muttered. "Say, I'll get in contact with one of my friends at the nearby vet. Tomorrow, you can go down and look through the cages there, and try to find one as close to the one she was in. That way we can get a good grasp of what she went through."

     "We can do that," Zoey replied quickly.

     "But Zoey, your reunion-"

     "The reunion can wait, Mira, this is more important. My parents will understand."

     The conversation died out. The room was silent except for the beeping of the machines and the other doctors working.

     "I'll let you guys go tonight. But we'll call if there's any big updates. Or you could stay, if you want," The doctor offered. Both girls chose to stay.

 

     The next morning, Zoey woke up in the waiting room of the hospital, half-laying against Mira. The taller girl looked down at her. "Finally awake?" She asked, a smug grin on her face.

     "How long was I out for...?" Zoey groaned, sitting up and wiping her mouth.

     "Uhh... Like, five hours." Mira replied. She yawned, her exhaustion obvious. She had dark eye bags.

     "Is she okay?" Zoey demanded.

     "Yeah, yeah." Mira glanced over at the hallway. "She woke up earlier. Uh... They had to sedate her, though."

     "Oh.."

     "She'll be fine. It's just until they can finish running the tests. She'll be discharged in a day or two, they said. As of right now, we're probably the only ones willing to care for her. Since she's not a child, there's no way for an adoption thing to work."

     "So we'll be taking care of an adult demon?"

     "Yeah." Mira rubbed her eyes. "Doctor said we can visit her again if we want. And, they've got a team trying to dig up any information they can. Birth records, stuff like that."

      Zoey nodded. They got up, hand-in-hand once more, and made their way back to the room. Inside, it was way less hectic than before. The doctors weren't rushing to keep the demon's vital signs stable, or trying to examine five different wounds at once. Now, there were only two doctors left. One was typing on a computer. The other, the one who kept the girls updated, was on the phone. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, a grounding and relieving rhythm.

     The doctor finished on the phone and turned to the girls. "Good news," he started. "She's in the best condition possible as of right now. She should be waking up in a few minutes. We have to be careful, though--she might panic again. That's not really a bad thing, though. If she's got the energy to fight back, she's got the energy to heal. We just gotta make sure she doesn't hurt herself."

     Zoey walked up to the bed. The demon was fast asleep, curled in on herself in some sort of half-fetal position. For the most part, she was still very dirty, but certain spots where IVs and such had been inserted were clean.

     "Jon!" The doctor at the computer called out. The main doctor turned to him.

     "Yes, Jeong?" Dr. Jon raised an eyebrow.

     Dr. Jeong quickly stood up, pointing at his computer screen. "I've found something. Old hospital records, from twenty-two years ago."

     Dr. Jon came over, inspecting the files on screen. "Ryu Miyeoung, birth, 2003, small girl, half-demon. Doctors report odd purple hair, say it must just be a strange genetic condition." He scanned over, reading off the most important words.

     There was no deny. The girl had purple hair. "Twenty two years old," Dr. Jon sighed. "Poor girl, probably gone through this her whole life. Jeong, are there any more records on her mother?"

     "Hang on..." He typed a few things in before clicking a file. "Died in '04. Cause of death unknown."

     "What about a father?"

     "According to the records, Miyeoung said he was dead as well. Natural causes."

     "Tortured and orphaned..." Dr. Jon muttered. "Probably one of the worst cases we'll ever see."

     "Who could've done this?"

     "Presumably a family member. We'll have to ask her when she wakes."

     Almost on cue, a soft growl came from the bed.

 

     The girls were still standing over the bed. "Hey..." Zoey murmured. "You here, girl?"

     The demon locked eyes with her, hissing and thrashing against the equipment.

     "Shh, shh, it's okay!"

     The demon was anything but okay.

Chapter 5: Hope (Part Two)

Summary:

The creature awakens.

     The creature woke, bombarded by bright lights that burnt its eyes. It hissed, trying to cover itself and protect its vision, but it was held down by a bunch of little tubes and wires.

     A soft voice caught its attention.

     "Hey..." She spoke softly.

     There were more Shes. Two were standing right above it right now. Where was the She it knew?

     "You here, girl?"

     It stopped struggling, instead tilting its head and studying Her face. This She was younger than the She it knew. Brighter, bubblier.

     The She next to Her was taller, but just as friendly. Well, it hoped they were friendly.

     "Hi." The shorter She said. Her voice was like the nest it lay in; soft and warm--unfamiliar, yet comforting.

     It didn't want to be rude. It responded with a soft "hm". Her eyes lit up. The tall She was grinning, too. She looked relieved.

     Who were they? Why did they hope for its survival? It'd never even met these Shes.

     The He approached it again. It'd learned today that there were three things: the Shes, the Hes, and itself.

     He smelled how the artificial lights looked. His hands were cold--it'd learned the hard way when He had to hold it in place and stab it with that thin-prick. The thin-prick made it sleep.

     It learned, too, that it had to remain calm if it didn't want to sleep again.

     "Ah, she's awake." He scribbled something on his clipboard. It looked around. Another She? Where?

     The Shes and He laughed in unison. "You, silly." The short She clarified. It cocked its head. It wasn't a She. It was a creature.

     They laughed again. It didn't see what was funny.

     The He turned serious, though. He whispered something to the short She, who then relayed it to the tall She, and everybody's expression darkened.

     It didn't hear what they discussed.

 

     The next few hours felt like a blur. Its exhaustion was catching up to it, and it phased in and out of sleep every few seconds.

      It had reached its limit on not eating, too. The Shes had taken turns gently bringing up spoonfuls of soup to its mouth. The soup was something it'd never had before. It felt surreal.

     The liquid settled in its stomach, and there was a parade of warmth and flavor. That was the most fulfilling meal it'd ever had. It whined when the bowl was taken away--the He warned it could only be fed in small portions, for its stomach could not handle so much at once.

     Later that night, He had left to go "attend to another patient". It didn't know what that meant. But now the Shes were there, and its tail wagged softly.

     "Rumi."

     There was that weird word again. But now it was these Shes saying it.

     "Rumi, girl, can you hear us?"

     It lifted its head.

     "So that is your name," the short She whispered.

     "Obviously," the tall She rolled her eyes. "The birth certificate wouldn't just have a random name." 

     "But Dr. Jeong said that it might not have been the right one." 

     "Well, she responds to the name. That's that." She turned to look down at it. "Can you talk?" She asked, Her words like a cloud.

      It shook its head. It knew it could, if it tried. It didn't want to, though.

      The short one spoke up.

      "Well, we can try to communicate anyways. I'm Zoey."

      Zo-ey.

      "This is Mira," Zoey continued. Mira waved. "And you're Rumi. Right?"

      It opened its mouth. Its tongue felt dry and heavy. "...Creature." It forced out.

     "Creature? Your name is Creature?"

     It didn't say anything else.

     Mira turned her head towards Zoey. "No way her name is Creature. Nobody names their child that. I... I think that's just what she was called. By whoever did this."

     Zoey looked down. "That's horrible. Rumi, you're not a creature."

      It wasn't? Is that why they were calling it a She? Was it a She?

      "Rumi, you still with us?"

      It nodded.

     "Look..." Mira ran a hand through its hair. "I can only imagine how confused you are right now. You're probably terrified."

      It tilted its head. It felt safer than ever, weirdly.

      "But I promise you it gets better. We're taking you home, and we're gonna care for you. Better than anyone else ever has. And we're gonna find who did this. Trust us, Ru, they will be found. They'll pay."

       It didn't understand what She was saying. But it heard Her tone. Her words felt grounding. The way She spoke comforted it.

       "We should let her sleep," Zoey whispered. Mira agreed.

       "Rumi, we have to go now. We'll be back tomorrow, promise. I think Dr. Jon will come back in a bit, too. Or Dr. Jeong. Get some sleep. Can you do that for us?"

       Sleep? That was something it could do. It nodded, giving Mira's hand one last nudge before laying back down. It was asleep in moments.

      The girls watched it for a minute before heading out. They walked home, which was thankfully only twenty minutes away, and immediately crashed into bed together.

Notes:

The next few chapters might be a little slower as I'm busy with school 💔 hope y'all enjoyed this one

Chapter 6: Two Girls, One Man, and a Five Year Old

Summary:

The girls get some help
Bobby cameo!!

     Rumi was discharged the next day. The three were in Mira's car, waiting to go home. The car was running, but remained in the parking lot.

     Mira was driving. Zoey was in the back with Rumi, who was in a larger version of those car seats meant for little children.

     "First things first." Mira glanced in the rearview mirror. "You guys good back there?"

      "All good!" Zoey gave her a thumbs up before returning to struggling with Rumi--who for some reason wouldn't stop chewing on the seatbelt. "That's not food!" Zoey groaned.

     Mira reached into one of the car's compartments and pulled out a bag of beef jerky. "Try this." She tossed it back to Zoey. The scent immediately caught Rumi's attention.

      With that settled, Mira pulled out of the parking lot and started down the street. "Alright, we're not going home yet. Zoey, read off that address Dr. Jon gave you."

      As Zoey read, Mira typed into a GPS. "Thirty minute drive."

     "What's this for, again?" Zoey asked, handing Rumi another chunk of jerky.

     "Behavioral specialist. Doctor said he'll be able to help us with getting Rumi to the mindset of a twenty-two year old, and not..."

     "A dog?" Zoey laughed. "So, like, how does that work?"

     "I dunno, actually. We'll have to see. Dr. Jon already got us an appointment. Today at 3."

     The rest of the ride was mostly silent except for the crinkle of the jerky bag and the occasional noise of the demon asking for another piece (communicated through an "em" and pointing at the bag.)

     By the time the bag was empty, Rumi was growing exhausted. Her head lolled to the side, and she dozed off.

     "You're gonna have to buy more jerky, babe." Zoey called out. Mira shrugged.

     "I've got, like, five more bags up here." She replied.

     "Hey, look." Zoey lowered her voice. "She's asleep again."

     "Poor thing probably never got much sleep," Mira sighed. The car pulled into an empty parking lot. "We're here."

     The building was small, and the structure reminded them of a traditional Hanok. Mira stepped out the vehicle and opened the back door. Zoey was already unbuckling the sleeping demon. 

     "Hey, wake up." Zoey whispered. Rumi half-opened her eyes. "Rumi, we need you to get up. Can you walk?"

     The demon climbed out of the car, stumbling on her feet. Mira caught her. "Careful. We'll help you." Zoey followed behind her. They each held one of Rumi's arms, making sure she didn't fall as they made their way inside.

     The waiting room was empty. The air smelt like cinnamon and pumpkin. A short, chubby man greeted them. He wore a light blue suit, and had shoulder-length hair. There was an air of tranquility surrounding him. "I presume you're the ones Dr. Jon sent?" He asked.

     "Yeah." Mira nodded.

     "Name's Bobby. Just follow me, and I can start immediately."

     They followed him into another room. It was a monotone, beige room with very minimalistic design choices. Very underwhelming.

     "Designed so that it isn't overstimulating to anyone," Bobby informed them. "Personally, I'd prefer some colors, but the patients come first." He sat down in a large chair. The girls sat across from him. "So, Dr. Jon gave me the basics. But first, introductions." He turned and looked straight at Rumi. "What's your name?"

      She didn't reply.

      "Oh," Zoey cut in. "She doesn't speak."

      Bobby nodded. He wrote something in his notebook. "You two know her name?"

      "It's Rumi. R-U-M-I." Mira answered. Bobby wrote that down, too.

      "Okay. Rumi, I need you to tell me something."

      She looked up.

      "Is there anything you do to communicate? Like a hand gesture, facial expressions, anything?"

     Rumi nodded. Noises. That always seemed to work--the noises rarely had meanings. They just got the girls' attention, and then they could typically figure out what she wanted.

     "Like?"

     She looked up at the girls. Zoey sighed. "She just... mumbles? They're not words. Just noises."

     "Oh, I know." Bobby scribbled something on the page. "Instead of speaking, she does the closest she can. Presumably just as a quick way to get your attention. Sound right?"

     The girls nodded.

     "I see. I know this is the first day she's been out the hospital, but have you girls noticed anything about the way she acts?"

     "I guess..." Zoey shrugged.

     "She acts like a dog." Mira elaborated. "Or at the very least, a toddler."

     "And how old is she?"

     "Twenty-two."

     Bobby nodded. "Due to her...situation...it's expected that she doesn't know how to really function in society. She's developmentally stunted. But that's why I'm here!" He laid his notebook out on the table, letting them see the page. "We can start today, if you want. Basically, it's a yearlong plan to teach her and make up for the years of development lost. It may take over a year, but this is just for now. It includes things like basic curriculum, speech therapy, emotional management, and physical therapy. Let me ask something else. You notice if she has any problems with movement?"

     "Yeah." Zoey nodded. "She can't walk very far."

     "I thought so."

     "Hold up-" Mira glanced down at the notebook. "What's the cost of all this?"

     "Free," Bobby responded.

     "Free?"

     "What kind of person would charge for saving someone's life?" He laughed. "Not me!"

     "Uh... Thanks. Really. We'll do it."

     "Great!" Bobby closed the notebook. "Like I said, we can start today. I'd like to just... watch the way Rumi interacts with different things. Maybe see if we can get a grasp on just how developmentally behind she is. Mental age, basically."

     Bobby stood up. He grabbed the notebook and gestured towards another door. "This way," he said. The girls stood up and followed. This time, it was Zoey who supported Rumi--walking just behind her and making sure she didn't fall.

     The new room was far more colorful. The walls were painted a light blue and covered in kids' drawings. A fuzzy carpet was laid over the floor. In the middle of the room was one of those puzzle things meant for children. There was a TV on the wall, softly playing some cartoon. The TV immediately caught Rumi's attention, who didn't hesitate to go sit and watch it. She seemed mesmerized by the colorful doodles dancing on screen.

     "That's a good thing," Bobby announced. "Good response to stimuli. And excellent focus. Here, while she's watching that, we can discuss some things going forward."

     They took a seat in some bean bags. "So," Bobby continued. "You girls are planning to take care of her, I've heard."

     They nodded.

     "This isn't going to be easy--you know that, right? I mean, given what she went through, you can expect to have horrible PTSD. Wait, let me rephrase that. She's most likely going to have PTSD, and you're going to have to deal with that. Or, her brain's going to do the complete opposite and bury the memories deep. Because it thinks the safest way is to forget. But if that's the case, not only can that negatively affect her mental health, we may also never get to catch who did this. So no matter what, this is going to be hard."

     "We understand." Mira said.

     "Yeah." Zoey nodded, holding Mira's hand. "We don't care how challenging it is. We've come this far. Rumi deserves a chance to live, and we can't guarantee that with anybody else."

     "I love your mindset," Bobby laughed. "Really. This is a big deal, and you two are just determined."

     "That's us." Mira shrugged. A soft grin tugged at her lips. "If anything, we should be more worried about her than us."

     "Right?" Zoey glanced over at Rumi, who was still fixated on the TV, her tail wagging behind her. "Won't talk, no education, and a demon. That's the universe just setting her up for failure."

     "Wait, Zoey." Mira studied the demon. "Didn't the birth certificate say her mother was a human?"

     "Half-demon, then. Wait, half-demon??" Zoey facepalmed. "Yeah, she's going to have a hard time living. That's why it's our job to make it as easy as possible!"

     "Love the energy, girls!" Bobby clasped his hands together. He glanced at a clock on the wall. "We've got three hours left, so I guess we'd better start. Rumi, come over here."

     The demon didn't respond. She was focused on that TV.

     Bobby sighed. "Look, girls, here's a quick PSA. She probably doesn't know what we're saying. The way she uses noises to communicate? We have to do the same." He clicked his tongue, as if calling a dog. Immediately, Rumi turned to look at him. "See? Come here."

     She did.

     "Woah.." Zoey gaped. 

     "We have to be patient. Over time, she'll start to understand. The words will make sense. For now, it may feel like you're training a pet. And that's going to feel a little weird, I know. But this is a very important stage. Just take it slow. Start with small words." Bobby raised his hand towards Rumi, silently noting the demon's slight flinch. "Hi." He murmured. He waved lightly.

     Rumi raised an eyebrow, watching as Bobby repeated himself. A "hi" and a wave.

     After a few more tries, the man's patience never faltering, Rumi raised her own hand and waved back.

     "Great!" He grinned. "Progress!"

     "Wait, lemme try!" Zoey snapped her fingers, catching the demon's attention as well. "Hey.." She waved. Rumi had caught on by now, and without skipping a beat waved back.

     Mira laughed. "So, we just, introduce new words and stuff gradually?"

     "Exactly." Bobby nodded. He reached beside the bean bag and grabbed a box of toys--cars, picture books, puppets, fidgets, building blocks, etc. "Next, we're literally just observing how she interacts with objects. Specifically these toys."

     "What does this do?" Mira raised an eyebrow.

     "Two things. One, we can see just basic preferences. You know, which textures she likes best, which kind of toys she likes best, if she prefers loud or quiet play, stuff like that. Two, the way she acts towards the toys can say a lot about her mental age. For example, a younger age--ten or less--would be far more explicit in their play. Like, it'd be very obvious what's going on. Because they're really expressive. Show me an airplane, I'll know it's an airplane. An alien dog that eats people? Yeah, I've seen that before." He chuckled. "But an older age is more kept-to-themself. They could be just as imaginative as the younger one, or even more so, but they won't show you that. They won't need to show it, because they know it. I can then estimate roughly how far along her brain is based on this. Not just based on this, though, but mostly this."

     The girls nodded. Rumi was already digging through the box, pulling out random things. 

 

     By the time the session was over, Bobby had already made a few calculations.

     He sighed, glancing down at his notebook. "I have the estimation. It's...quite low, but that's expected. And it could be lower."

     "What's that mean?" Zoey asked.

     "It means this is going to be a little harder than I thought. Still possible, but harder. She... Well, at the least, has the development of a five year old. Not exactly. It's somewhere between five and eight."

     "So essentially--" Mira glanced down at the demon, who was once again sleeping, this time curled up with a plush tiger in her arms. "--We're dealing with a child. That's not that bad, actually. Billions of people have raised children. Ours is just... in an adult's body."

     "Worded it better than I could have." Bobby nodded. He glanced down at Rumi. "That's the end of our time, though. Since we agreed on weekly sessions, I'll see you guys..." He looked at the calendar on the wall, searching for an open day. "Next Wednesday, same time. 3 p.m."

     The girls agreed. Zoey set a reminder on her phone. Mira was already bending down to pick Rumi up.

     "We'll be there. Thank you, Bobby!" They called out, halfway out the door.

 

     They made it back to the car. Zoey buckled Rumi in before sliding into the seat next to her. Mira climbed into the front seat.

     "Alright!" She turned the keys, starting the car with a mechanical huff. "We're going home for real this time. Rumi, you with us?"

     The demon glanced up, half-asleep.

     "We're going home. We'll get some food, get you cleaned up, then you can sleep."

     Rumi nodded. She stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as the car pulled out the driveway.

     It was such a peculiar thing, the events of today and yesterday.

     Because how does one go from starving in a cage to this--warm, safe, and surrounded by people who actually wanted to care for them?

     These people...well, simply put, they gave her a reason to keep going. Because if they had so much hope for her survival, then why couldn't she?

     Maybe she'd even try to learn to speak, just for them.

     "Thanks.." She tried to say, but it came out as a gibberish whisper. The girls didn't even turn their heads.

Notes:

Don't worry, this is the last of the embarrassing dog phase 💔

Chapter 7: Solutions Lead to Bigger Problems

Summary:

The world is full of Hunters who don't hunt.
Those who should be Hunters, but are too lazy to participate.
They have the mindset of one, anyway.

     Several months had passed since Rumi was first rescued.

     The demon had become an internet sensation--after she'd finally recollected her memories enough to form a coherent story, the police had gotten straight to making arrests, and the case was leaked to the public in no time.

     The entirety of the Hunters had been found training in Celine's yard. They'd all been arrested.

     Something far worse awaited Celine, though. She was supposed to be imprisoned as well, serving multiple life sentences, but word got out that within just a few days she'd already been found dead in the courtyard.

     The country celebrated.

     What they didn't know was that she had been targeted the first day she was there. In all honesty, she'd been put in an all-female prison that held a mix of both human and demon inmates. Knowing her crimes, there was no way she was going to survive.

 

     Rumi was making great progress, too. She still didn't like to speak. But some days, if she felt like it, she'd offer a small "hello" to the girls.

     On the rarest occasions, she'd randomly pipe in with one sentence before going nonverbal again. 

     According to Bobby, she'd gone from a five year old to fourteen over the months. The girls were happy for her growth, obviously, but were warned about something called a "teenage phase". The girls didn't seem too worried.

     Rumi had no clue what that was about. But if Zoey and Mira weren't worried, neither was she.

 

     However, nothing was perfect, and Rumi's recovery was far from over.

---

     "You said she keeps running off?" Bobby's voice came from the phone. Rumi turned her head--she was still unsure of how phones worked, and every time someone called, it took a frustratingly long time to realize they weren't actually there.

     "Yeah," Mira replied. "It's like, every time I look away, she's five blocks down. Even if it's just for a moment."

     A soft laugh filled the room, quality buzzed by the phone. "Well, that's certainly a problem. Uh... Is there anything in particular she seems to be going after?"

     "Not really... Usually it's just a bird. Or something she wants--once she stood in front of a bookstore for an hour, refusing to leave until we took her inside." Mira paused before adding, "She can't even read."

     "I see." There was a moment of silence. Then, "You try a leash?"

     "Huh?"

     "You know, like those leashes they make for toddlers. I'm sure you can find a bigger one. Or make one. Didn't you say you like crafting?"

     "That's... actually not a bad idea. Thanks, Bobby!"

     "Glad I could help. Tell Zoey I said hi!"

     "Will do."

     The call ended. Mira looked over to Rumi, who was just laying on the couch in an oversized hoodie. "You hear that?" She called out. "I think we might have our solution to your wandering problems."

     Rumi perked up. Her hair was all messy from laying down and her patterns glowed a happy gold. 

     "We're going to the store. I just need a few things."

     "I stay?"

     "You can't stay here alone. And you know Zoey's out visiting family for the week." Mira watched as the demon still didn't get up. She sighed. "I'll get you some chocolate if you come."

     That got Rumi's attention. The demon was a sucker for sweet stuff, especially candy. She jumped up.

     "That's what I thought. Come on."

     Mira climbed into the driver's seat of the car. Rumi didn't hesitate, getting into the passenger seat next to her. Usually, she wasn't allowed. Zoey preferred the demon to sit in the back with her. But since Zoey wasn't here, it was Mira and Rumi's secret. 

     There was a ten minute drive to the store.

     It was a nice day; the sky was a rich light blue and the clouds were marshmallows floating in the sea. The air was crisp, and the trees were beginning to have an orange tint, teasing the beginning of fall. It would be the first time Rumi would ever experience falling leaves and pumpkins and festivities and harvests. The girls found the idea both endearing and terrifying--they could barely keep an eye on her as-is, imagine how hard it'd be when she's off trying to study all these new environmental changes.

     But they held hope. Zoey had introduced Mira to an American holiday during the fall--Halloween--a year ago, and they were planning to take a trip to America to participate.

     Another reason to worry about Rumi: plane rides.

     None of that was a pressing matter right now, though. So Mira cleared her head and kept driving. Every so often, she'd feel Rumi tug on her hand and glance over at whatever the demon had noticed this time; she'd laugh, maybe comment, then keep walking. They had places to be.

     The store was just a few blocks away by now. 

---

     They walked through the automatic doors, which opened with a whir that never failed make Rumi stare in awe.

     Mira grabbed a cart. She began to wheel it inside, before coming to a halt. "Ru," she turned around. Thankfully, Rumi hadn't tried to run away yet. "Do you wanna walk or sit in the cart? If you walk, you have to stay by me."

     She was already climbing in.

     "That settles that." Mira pushed the cart through the second set of doors. It was heavy--a good sign because the demon was still underweight, but was slowly getting to a normal, healthy size--but Mira was quite strong anyway, so it didn't bother her. 

     "So..." Mira pulled out her phone, already searching for a photo of the leash Bobby mentioned. "We can make the little harness thing with a backpack. And then just a regular dog leash to attach to it. That's simple enough."

     The backpack came first, in an aisle full of half-off school supplies from two months prior. They settled on a green one with tigers printed all over it--Rumi's choice.

     The demon really seemed to like tigers.

     Finally, the leash was just a basic one. A solid black, thin nylon strip with one end in a loop. Mira had picked it out, for there was no need for a very detailed leash, and she was trying to stay on the cheaper side. The only issue?

     She'd been too focused, digging through a messy pile of nylon until she found the one she wanted. And when she turned around...

     The demon was gone again.

     "Goddamnit, Rumi..." Mira sighed. She was exasperated, but nonetheless worried. Her eyes scanned the aisle quickly, only stopping when she was sure Rumi wasn't there. "Alright, come out, this isn't funny anymore. Rumi!"

     No response.

     "Bobby was right about this leash..." She muttered. She grabbed the cart and hauled it between aisles, searching up and down for any trace of the demon.

     Anxiety gripped Mira's heart like a vice. "Seriously, how far could she have gone?" She tore through the shelves, searched every box or crevice, asked fellow shoppers--who either shrugged, wished her luck, or started bitching about demons--and never once stopped calling Rumi's name. The demon seriously was missing.

     "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Mira was beginning to panic. She reached for her phone--to contact Zoey or the police, she didn't know--but her hand grazed over an empty pocket.

     Rumi had been playing games on it.

     Dammit.

     The fear was beginning to set in. What if she was hurt? Or worse? No, Mira shook her head. I can't think like that. She's just wandered off again. But even as she told herself that, she couldn't shake the feeling something was really wrong.

      Mira took a deep breath. Panic settled in her stomach, a prickly thorn she knew all too well. It was heavy, revolting, and sharp. It shouted things she couldn't hear, or maybe she just refused to.

     She blamed herself. She knew it wasn't her fault, yet she couldn't help but blame herself. If she'd just stayed a little closer, payed a little more attention, Rumi wouldn't be wherever she was now.

     Zoey was only leaving for a week. Just one. Mira promised she had everything under control. And she broke that promise. The fuck kind of girlfriend was she, breaking promises and losing their child the first day Zoey was gone?

     "Rumi!" She tried again. Still nothing. Tears threatened to fall, clinging at the corners of her eyes the same way she remembered Rumi clinging to her many a nights, whenever nightmares plagued the demon's sleep. She would stand in the doorframe, watching in silence as Mira and Zoey slept, illuminated only by the nightlight Zoey insisted they have. She wouldn't move. She'd just stand there, until Mira inevitably awoke and noticed her. Without a word, the demon would crawl in between the two, curled up and almost immediately asleep again. Mira could swear she heard the faintest rumble coming from Rumi, like the purring of a cat.

     Sometimes, on the worst nights, being with the two wasn't enough. Rumi would sit on the bed, promptly sobbing and shaking, her patterns in a craze, and it'd take over an hour of soft mumbles and hummed songs for her to finally calm down.

     And seeing as Zoey was a very deep sleeper, it was always Mira doing the comforting. 

     "God, why am I so bad at this shit?" Mira whispered. She'd already scouted half the store by now. She shoved the cart around another corner before frantically yanking it back, mere millimeters from crashing into an employee. "I'm so sorry," she said, breath shaky.

     "Ma'am, are you...okay..?" The employee asked. He was a short man with messy brown hair and a slight Australian accent.

     A moment of silence passed as Mira forced herself to take a breath. Finally, "No. No, I- I've lost my friend. Well, not my friend.. kind of my adopted child..? But she's an adult? If that makes sense?"

     Judging by the employee's expression, it did not. Mira shook her head. "Look, ignore our relationship, she's missing."

     He nodded. "Um.. I can try to help look. Do you want me to call security while we do?"

     "That'd be great." She let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Er, my friend, she's about your height. Purple hair. A demon." She said the last word hesitantly, fearing the employee would turn her away like the other customers did. Thankfully, if anything, he seemed more concerned.

     "Well, she sounds pretty recognizable. Where'd you last see your friend?"

     "Uh...pet aisle. She has this habit of disappearing, but never this-... She's always just around the corner." Mira's voice dropped to a whisper. "She's not the most...mentally advanced, so to speak."

     The employee's eyes widened, a sharp yellowish orange. Oh, he was a demon, too. That was good. "Wait... is she the one from that documentary?" He asked.

     Mira nodded.

     "Oh jeez..." He didn't waste another moment, already whispering into his walkie and leading Mira through a maze of aisles. As they searched for the missing demon, the employee asked questions. "Is there anything she likes? Something that might get her attention?"

     Mira thought long and hard, her eyebrows scrunching as she peered down yet another empty lane. "I don't think so. She's really sporadic."

     The employee leaned over a shelf, looking down into a box. No sign of Rumi there, either. "Okay... If you were her, where would you be?"

     Mira let out a soft laugh. "At home. Sleeping."

     "Well, what about things she'd want?"

     "I did promise her chocolate if she came here with me. Check the candy aisle!"

 

      Rumi was not in the candy aisle.

 

     Mira groaned, fisting a pack of gum in frustration. The tears dared to form again, those treacherous things, but this time she couldn't hold them back. She slid down the shelf, sitting on the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest.

     "Jesus Christ..." She muttered. "They were right. I'm so fucking useless. I promised to keep her safe, and... and I can't even do that." Oh, she wasn't even trying to suppress it now.

      The employee didn't say anything. He stood there awkwardly, his tail twitching behind him. What was he supposed to do? They didn't go over this in training!

      Mira's words had subsided to silent sobs, head buried in her hands. Her long, pink hair covered her face completely.

      The employee slowly sat down beside her, leaving a foot or two of space in between. He didn't say anything for a moment, still trying to process what to do. Eventually, though, he cleared his throat. "Hey..." He started, voice barely above a whisper. "It'll be okay. She'll be found. There's, like, five security guards looking right now. I'm sure she's just gotten herself somewhere hard to spot, but safe nonetheless."

     Mira didn't respond. However, she lifted her head, the crying seeming to have ceased for now.

     "Just... breathe." Comforting was hard. "You can't help her if you're panicking." Who the fuck says that? "Just take a moment."

     Somehow, the shitty advice worked. Mira's breathing evened out. She wiped a sleeve across her eyes and stood up. "Thanks... I- I don't know what that was."

      "Happens to the best of us," the employee laughed. He stood up, dusting off his pants. "Name's Archie, by the way. I don't know, just figured you'd wanna put a face to the name, after that..."

     "Mira." She replied. "You know, Archie, for a random store employee, you're a really cool guy."

     He shrugged. "I try to be. You know--"

     Archie's walkie-talkie crackled. He fished it out of his pocket, holding down the button. "This is Archie."

     A gruff voice replied, "We found that missing thing. Get down to the toy aisle, demon. Now."

     His tail twitched in half-hidden annoyance. "Well, that's great news." He turned to Mira, forcing a smile. "Toy aisle, boss said."

     Mira scoffed. "I know that tone. Is that fucker seriously..?"

     "Yeah," Archie sighed with a shrug. "Part of life. You get used to it after a while. Let's just go get your friend, before he decides he's done babysitting a demon."

     Shit. Mira took off, probably faster than considered polite, dodging display boxes and customers. Archie followed not too far behind, although he had the decency to maintain a steady pace. He wasn't walking, but he wasn't running. He didn't need his boss chewing him out for that, too.

     By the time they reached the aisle, the boss-guy was already standing over Rumi, angrily rambling about some "stupid fucking demons" shit.

     The poor thing looked terrified.

      "Get the fuck away from her, or so God help me." Mira growled. The boss turned his head, backing off.

      "I presume this is your friend?" He snorted. "Get the hell out my store before I ban you."

      Rumi had immediately taken to cowering behind the taller girl.

     "I'll have you sued! This is goddamn discrimination. That's illegal now!"

     "This ain't discrimination, this is preference. Purity. You just can't handle the truth, fuckin' demonkin."

     "I'm not a demon??" Mira got face to face with the boss. She was easily taller than him, but what he lacked in height he made up for in brawn.

     "But you like 'em. You like those nasty things. They're fuckin' vermin. Animals. I've seen that documentary, you know which one I mean, and believe me when I say every goddamn patterned beast deserves to go through that."

     "Woah, woah, woah." Archie cut in. "Boss, you're on about a literal crime here. Like, a horrible crime. What if it was your child?"

     "Don't bring my daughter into this."

     "But what if it was?" He pressed. "If you wouldn't wish it on a human child, why on a demon child?"

     "Because they're not people!" The boss shouted.

     Archie took a step back. The patterns on his arms, which had been so faint before they were almost hidden, flashed a sharp blue. Offense, fear.

     The demon behind Mira cowered further. Her hands were clamped over her ears, trying to silence the noise. In her arms was a small blue plush tiger, which she'd presumably taken from the aisle before she was found by the boss.

     The boss turned to glare at Mira. "Take you and your little friend out of here. Go pay for whatever the fuck's in your cart and get out. I don't want to see you in here ever again, lest I repeat what happened on that crime show."

     Threatening a demon out of pure bigotry was one thing. But threatening a demon with their own trauma? Their own past experiences they fought tooth and nail to survive, to heal from?

     No fucking way.

     "Listen here," Mira snarled, taking a step closer to the boss. "I don't care if this is your store. There is no way you can speak to my friend like that--my technical child--and expect to get away with it."

     He laughed, a harsh, grating bark. "That's a whole ass adult! That's not a child, that's a pet. A badly trained one. I'm sure you could whip it into submission."

     "You're disgusting."

     "I'm human. It's not. It's a creature, something to be tamed and conditioned to work for us. We're above them! How can you stoop so low to support such an unnatural thing?!"

     "If it was 'unnatural', it wouldn't exist!" Mira snapped. She shoved the boss hard, pushing him back against the shelf. "We're fucking going. The press will be hearing about this." She turned around, gently leading Rumi back to the cart. As she wheeled the cart away, Archie followed, leaving the boss disheveled and angry.

---

     Back in the car, Mira leaned her head on the wheel. The car sat parked in the lot, turned on but unmoving. Rumi sat in the passenger seat, watching the birds outside in silence. That blue tiger was still clutched in her arms--Mira had agreed to buy it on account of Rumi's bad experience. The demon had lovingly named it "Derpy". Whatever that was.

     "I'm sorry," Mira finally sighed. "That was my fault. I should've payed better attention."

     Rumi didn't say anything. But she looked over, and her eyes said enough. One brown, one yellow, both filled with a mixture of admiration and shakiness. Of safety and fear. Of hope and a lingering hopelessness that would forever haunt her, just under the surface.

     Thank you, those eyes said. But I'm terrified.

     Mira reached out and gently rubbed the demon's shoulder. "I'm glad you're safe. People like him are assholes. Don't listen to what he says."

     "Love." The demon said.

     "Hm?"

     "Love you."

     "I love you too, Rumi."

Notes:

I don't know what happened here 😭 it was supposed to be a happy chapter, then BOOM. Mira angst. Kinda. Two chapters in one day??? Feast, my children.

Chapter 8: Slice of Life

Summary:

The demon's life isn't a complete struggle. There are some moments of pure joy, enthusiasm, or excitement. Like so.

     "Where's the remote?" Zoey groaned, glancing around the couch. It was supposed to be movie night, the celebrate Zoey's return, and of course the remote just had to disappear.

     "Didn't you have it last?" Mira replied. She reached into the cushion to check if it had fallen. 

     Rumi was on the other end of the couch, pointing. Pointing at the kitchen table. The remote was sitting on the corner; Zoey had left it there when going to grab the popcorn. She didn't say anything, though, and therefore the girls didn't notice her.

     "Well I don't know where it is!" Zoey snapped back, no actual bite behind her words.

     Rumi pointed harder.

     "I don't know either?!" Mira let out a long sigh. "We'll just have to use the TV controls on the back of the TV. Go press 'em."

     "Why me??"

     "Because you lost the remote!"

     Exasperated, Rumi let out a sharp 'enh'. The others turned their heads. She pointed at the table again. Their gazes followed her arm, landing right on the remote.

     Zoey rolled her eyes, getting up to grab it. "Talking is an option, you know." She murmured. Rumi shrugged. Noises seemed to get her point across just fine.

     With a deep exhale, Zoey rejoined them on the couch. "Bout time," Mira muttered with a soft, smug grin. "Popcorn's getting cold."

     The movie was some mix between a cheesy romance and a cheap horror flick. Zoey and Mira seemed invested, laughing at and pointing out the crappy effects more than the actual plot. Rumi, on the other hand, was fighting for her life to comprehend it.

     She was working overtime, decoding every word and facial expression. From what she gathered, there was this bad guy who killed anyone in love because he was dealing with heartbreak. Most of it, though, was foreign to her. 

     She could only understand bits and pieces of the dialogue. Sometimes a scene would change before she could process the last, and it'd leave her head spinning in confusion. Other times, when a jumpscare happened, Rumi was too busy trying to understand the logic that she'd either not react at all, or would react too much.

     The others would let out friendly laughs and comfort the trembling creature.

     Sorry, the trembling person.

     The movie was torturously stretched out over four hours. By the time it was finished, it was well past midnight.

     "That was...painfully boring." Zoey said, standing up and stretching.

     "Totally worth it. Where do you even find these movies?" Mira laughed in response. Zoey shrugged.

     "I just scroll and pick whatever sounds mildly interesting." The younger one replied. They began picking up the empty bowls and cups. Mira shut off the TV. Zoey clung onto her shoulders as the two made their way back to their room. 

     In bed, they cuddled under a suffocating blanket. It was soft and warm and familiar. Something felt off, though. 

     A few minutes went by. Zoey's eyes shot open. "Rumi," she gasped. "Mira, wake up, we've left Rumi!"

     Mira sat up. "Shit. She's still out there?" The pink-haired girl climbed out of bed, groaning. "We'd better hope she hasn't wondered off again. You know what happens when she does."

     They both sighed. The first time it had happened, the three had been at a museum--Zoey's idea for a day out. They'd turned around for one second, just one, and suddenly Rumi was gone. It took an hour to find her, even with the help of security. Somehow she'd managed to get into a taxidermy panther exhibit, and was crouching inside a small cave. The guards had not been happy when they found her. One had called her a slur--which she had asked Zoey and Mira later on what that meant. They didn't tell her. 

     (That worker was fired shortly after. Mira had only filed 105 complaints and threatened to sue.)

     "I swear, if she's somehow outside the building..." Zoey opened the bedroom door and started down the hallway. Mira followed quickly.

     "She could be seriously..." Mira trailed off. Both of their eyes noticed it simultaneously.

     Rumi was still on the couch, thank god. She was cocooned inside a million blankets (mind you, none of them had blankets when they started the movie), and a soft purr rumbled from inside the blanket-nest.

     "Well, at least she's here and not in the middle of the road," Mira whispered.

     Zoey nodded. They kept their voices low, scared to awaken the snoozing demon. "We can't leave her out here, can we? But I'd hate to accidentally wake her up." Zoey glanced down at Rumi's barely visible face. She looked more relaxed than they'd ever seen.

     After a moment, Mira sighed. "Lock all the doors. I don't have the heart to move her, just make sure she can't get out somehow."

     Zoey laughed. "Everything's already locked tight. Knowing her, she'd probably find a way out anyway."

     Mira shrugged. "Sounds like her. Let's just go back to bed."

 

     Rumi awoke a few minutes after noon. The others were awake, but didn't feel like going and waking her. If past experiences counted for anything, she'd probably panic and bite one of them. Which she really didn't mean to do.

     The blankets enveloped her like an uncomfortably warm hug. Sweat beaded on her forehead. It felt suffocating. It felt like...

     Rumi thrashed, throwing the blankets off of her. In the kitchen, neither of the girls noticed her sudden movements.

     Breathing heavily, the half-demon stared down at the pile of blankets on the floor. How did she even end up in them? She didn't remember grabbing any. And certainly she'd remember if either of the humans did it.

     Cool air swept over her. It felt grounding. Her breathing evened out. 

     You're okay, she told herself. And for once, perhaps she was.

Notes:

okay okay this chapter was written right after chapter 1 so if there's any inconsistencies im sorry 😞

Chapter 9: The Most Psychologically Dangerous Creature on the Planet

Summary:

fuckin teenage fuckin stage

     Bobby had not been lying. Within the next month, the demon had already begun to act out.
     She was talking, that was good. But--
     "Fuck you." Rumi hissed.
     Zoey sighed. "Look, we're glad that you're, you know, finally comfortable enough to speak, but could you maybe say anything else? You're like a teenager who just learned how to swear."
     Was she not?
     "No." She shook her head before returning to digging through the cabinet in search of food. "Seriously, why the fuck don't we have anything good??"
     "We just restocked all the cabinets yesterday! With your favorite stuff!" Zoey stood next to her, pulling down multiple bags of the demon's favorite chips. "See?"
     "Well, maybe I don't fucking want that," she snapped.
      Zoey backed off. "I give up." The shorter girl trudged out of the kitchen, meeting Mira in the living room, who was laying on the couch and reading a book. "Mira, go deal with your child."
     She scoffed. "Mine? We're in this together, Zo. She's as much yours as she is mine."
     "Well, I need a break." Zoey groaned, falling back onto the couch.
     Mira rolled her eyes. "You know, we were both like that at some point in our lives. It'll blow over in a week or two."
     Well, that was true. Zoey mulled over it. "You're right. We just have to get through this, an--"
     "FUCK!"
     There was a loud clang of metal against a counter, followed by the demon's shout. The humans leapt up, hurriedly going to investigate the commotion.
     Rumi leaned against the sink, holding a bloodied cloth to her hand. "I'm fine. Just... dropped the knife."
     "You WHAT." Zoey ripped the cloth away, inspecting the wound like it was life-threatening. The entire top half of Rumi's pinkie had been cut clean off.
     Mira was busy cleaning up the blood. "Shit, are you okay?" She asked.
     "Yeah, no, it was just a slip up. I- I'm good." Rumi insisted.
     "If you say so.."
     Zoey had already grabbed a first aid kit--they kept one in every room--and was wrapping a bandage around the bleeding flesh stump.
     "Well, I guess you're missing a finger now," Mira joked.
     "Only half of one," Rumi retorted.

---

 

     Then came the inevitable. The feared. The thing Mira and Zoey awaited in anxious anticipation. It was going to happen one day. Better sooner than later.
     Rumi knew.
     They knew she knew.
     She knew they knew she knew.
     It was like a ticking time bomb, waiting for the first mention of it.
     It was an agonizing wait.

     The night Rumi chose to exploit such knowledge was already horrible.
     Another outburst. This time over the demon's food preferences (Mira had used water in the pasta when she specifically said she liked for milk to be used.)
     Was it a reasonable thing to have an outburst over? Not really. Rumi knew that. But something about the yelling, the being able to bite back, even if only verbally, felt grounding. Relieving. A way to regulate bad emotions, even if it wasn't the healthiest.
     By all means, there were worse methods.
     They had been arguing for fifteen minutes now, Rumi and Mira. Zoey tried to distill it, to no avail. It was only when Mira shouted, "We're your guardians, you're under our roof, using our money, so listen to us!" that Rumi decided to strike. The words, the ones they'd been trying to stay as far away from, rang through the air like a gunshot.
     "I'm older than you!" The demon snarled.
      A silence befell them. Mira looked ready to kill--if she didn't love the demon so, she might have became the next Celine right there and then.
      Rumi slouched back. She knew she was right, that she had them in a checkmate. But she didn't like chess.
      Finally, Mira sighed sharply. "Room," she muttered, turning back to the stove.
      "What?"
      "Room." One word. But the strength of a thousand lions behind it.
      With a growl, Rumi stood up, nearly knocking her chair over, and trudged upstairs. The sound of a door slamming cut through the silence, a thick and suffocating sludge.

      "Mira..."
      "We have to put our foot down, Zoey. Or else she'll never grow out of this."
      The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Zoey had brought a plate up for Rumi, leaving it outside her door, but the demon never came out to eat.
      (She did--when it was past midnight.)
      Zoey had texted her as well, a long paragraph about how they loved her, but she really needed to start listening because even if she was older, they were still her caretakers and quite frankly the reason she was alive. Even though it hurt Zoey to say it, she added, "We're not mad at you. We could never be mad at you. We're just... not a fan of how you're acting, Ru. Please understand."

      The true extent of the demon's rebellious phase was unknown. But what the girls did know was that however long is lasted, it was going to be a parade of nonstop arguing and exhaustion.
      They knew that they had signed up for this. And never once did their love for the demon falter. It didn't matter how many times they heard her scream, "I fucking hate you guys," because they knew that wasn't true. Rumi still came to them in the middle of the night, seeking comfort whenever she had nightmares.
      They also knew this phase was important to someone's development--Zoey had gotten curious one night and, after doing some reason, learned that the real purpose of the "I hate you" phase was a biological way to prevent inbreeding between parents and their offspring. Morbid, but it was comforting to know this was natural. And for a good cause.
     They just wished Rumi was a little more cooperative.

Notes:

for clarification zoey and mira like to use the term "child" for rumi more as a joke, they know damn well she's not only an adult but also older than them.

Chapter 10: The Hunt Persists

Summary:

A Hunter's duty was never fulfilled.

And a demon's life was never truly safe.

Notes:

Two months after chapter nine!!

Rumi has grown out of the teenage phase (thank satan)

     A Hunter's duty was never fulfilled.

     They could tally up each demon they killed, score every house they burnt down, and it'd never be enough.

     The Honmoon was never satisfied.

     The Honmoon was an ancient force they worshipped. It was a holy barrier between the pure humans and sinful demons.

     The Honmoon was weakening, according to Celine.

 

      Celine, who no longer could speak on behalf of it.

     Leaving the untrained Hunters to figure out its cryptic messages.

 

 

     The Honmoon wasn't real. Any non-Hunter could see that. It was made up, just to give the Hunters some sense of rightfulness for their crimes. 

     But like any god, the Honmoon was worshipped without question, without a single doubt that maybe they were wrong.

     Technically, the Honmoon wasn't a god. It was an unseen, divine force that held the world together, protecting the humans. But it was not a god.

     It was just there.

 

      The Hunters who had been locked up with Celine got out within a few months, either bailed out by their parents or freed on account of their age.

     (That was the excuse the court used. In reality, the law was still very heavily anti-demon, and if anything, praised the Hunters for their service.)

     Did this enrage most of the public? Yes.

     Did they care? Not one bit.

 

     The Hunters were left without a mentor, the oldest elected to lead, and were forced to continue their work in secret. A few more people, friends of the Hunters, were accepted into the group.

     And now the Hunters wanted revenge.

 

---

 

     The demon was less guarded than they expected. The Hunters sent forth two scouts--a hefty twenty year old guy named Heong and and a dexterous, intelligent sixteen year old girl called Linho--to spend a week watching, observing the demon's schedule. They studied the places it went and the way it got there.

      For the most part, it walked, escorted by one or both of its guardians; the ex-Hunters.

     Those traitors.

     It often liked to trail off, which was good. A moment of vulnerability.

     An opportunity.

     Hunters never missed an opportunity.

     But now it was kept on a tight leash. A hilarious prospect, but annoying and detrimental to their mission. If the demon could not get away, they couldn't get it.

     Hunters never gave up, though. And they'd already vowed to avenge their fallen leader. 

     Today, they would strike.

 

      The demon was at a park. Its guardians were there, too, although they seemed more focused on themselves than it--who was kicking up a pile of dead leaves like they were the most entertaining thing on Earth. The guardians remained close by, laying intertwined in the grass and scrolling on their phones. Every so often one would look up and check on the demon, but besides that, this was too easy.

     "You got the 'kist?" Linho whispered. The scouts were a few kilometers away, sitting on a bench and whispering behind a comically large newspaper.

     "No, I thought you had it." Heong hissed back.

     Linho dug through her bag, pulling out a small baggie full of little red flowers. "Oh, yeah, you're right."

     "Dumbass."

     "Eugh- shut up!" She hit his head, almost knocking his hat off. Heong jerked back. With a grunt, he readjusted his cap.

     "Shh, don't make yourself so obvious." Heong muttered.  He kept his eyes on the demon, who was straying farther and farther from its guardians. "You know what? I have an idea."

     Linho raised an eyebrow.

     "Throw on your friendliest voice. Go act like you wanna play with it." He was already pushing her off the bench.

     "I'm not talking to no demon!" Linho protested.

     "We're gonna be talking to it a lot once its back at camp. Best start now, get yourself used to its stink."

     "Why not you??"

     "I'm a man. That's gonna look sketchy as hell."

     "Oh yeah.." Reluctantly, she got up and slowly made her way towards where the demon was playing. "Hey!" She called out, voice high-pitched and overly childlike.

     The demon turned, pausing in its track and tilting its head. "Hm?"

     "Whatcha doing?"

     It blinked slowly. Presumably, it was debating whether to answer, whether to indulge in conversation with a stranger.

     The demon reeked of sin, of metaphorical rot that coincidentally only the Hunters could smell. Linho forced herself not to show any physical signs of disgust.

     "Ignoring me? Rude." The Hunter teased. "Seriously, what are you doing? Looks fun."

     "...just messing with the leaves," the demon muttered. It seemed tired of talking already--hands in its coat pockets, a raggedy plush under its arm. What was it, a child?

     "Cool." Linho looked back at Heong, who was giving her a thumbs up, that smug bastard. She turned back to the demon. "Well, uh..." Line! Dammit, what do I say?? "... there's more leaves over here, if you want to grab 'em.. I can help you."

     The demon scrunched its eyebrows, questioning why a stranger would want to interact with it, let alone help it. And rightfully so. Linho was trying not to gag on the demon's stench.

     (There was no stench.)

     After a moment of thinking, it nodded. "That's... nice of you. Tanks." Wrong word, she imagined it scolded itself silently, although it made no move to correct what it had said. "Let me tell them first." It pointed at its caretakers, who were now resting in the grass.

     Linho shook her head. "No need. We'll be back quick enough."

     The demon paused, looking back hesitantly, before shrugging--an exaggerated movement far from a human's normalcy. Its shoulders shook too much, its head bobbed.

     It looked wrong.

     Linho decided to ignore the uncanny-ness. She led the demon back to the bench, promising every few moments the leaves were "just ahead".

      "Come on, just behind this tree now!" She turned, swerving around the tree far too quick, and the demon crashed. It hit the bark and fell back, disoriented for the time being. Well, that wasn't the plan...but it worked.

      Heong watched. He stifled a laugh at the demon's stupidity, standing up and walking over. "Hurry up," he said. "Grab its legs and I'll grab its arms. Into the bushes." He crouched down, slipping his arms under the demon's and lifting. Linho held the demon's legs, right above the ankles, and together they dragged it through some underbrush until they were out of the demon's caretakers' sight. Then they continued, sneaking between shadows until they approached a dark alley.

      The Hunters lay the demon down on the asphalt. Linho held up its head and tied a cloth around it, effectively gagging it. She let its head drop, cracking against the concrete and ensuring it'd be knocked out for a little while longer. "There we go," she dusted her hands off.

     Then Linho dug in her bag. "We need the 'kist?"

     "Not yet. Do you even remember what it does?"

     "Yeah! It's just like drugs, but for demons. Knocks 'em out."

     "No...." Heong sighed. "The scent of these flowers send demons into a craze. A bloodlust. They grow violent, become mere animals, and--"

     "They are animals."

     "--they go crazy. Like they've got rabies. Last time a group tried testing the effects on a demon, no one made it out alive. Blood everywhere." He emphasized that last bit with a big shake of his hands.

     Linho pulled the bagged flowers out. They looked harmless. "How does that even--"

     "Put those away!" Heong hissed. He grabbed the baggie and shoved it back into the purse. "The demon gets a whiff of that, and we're dead men."

     "Relax!" She laughed. "Dumb thing couldn't hurt a fly."

     "I'm not taking any chances. If I'm dead, Felix becomes Vice Leader. I'd rather kiss a demon than let that happen. Hell, I'd rather fuck a demon first." Heong shook his head. His brother, Felix, was younger than him by two years. Felix was the tallest, though, and the rudest. Snarkiest. Stupidest.

    He didn't even learn his alphabet until he was twelve.

     Heong rolled his eyes. If Felix took over for Minji, the Hunters might as well quit. He'd take them all to hell and back, and not to kill demons.

     The demon began to stir. They heard a soft, confused growl muffled by the cloth. Linho glared down into the demon's heterochromic eyes. "Woah, Heong. Jackpot!"

     "Huh?" He scrunched his eyebrows.

     "Half-demon!"

     "How is that better than a demon?"

     "Um, 'cause it can probably feel stuff like humans do. Which means we can hurt it more, and not just physically. Psychologically!"

      Heong considered it. "That's actually the first good idea you've had all week." Linho hit him again. "Ow! But still, nice job, Lee."

      "As always, Hee." 

      "More like rarely," Heong snorted, earning a shove. "Okay, jeez!"

      The demon snarled, snapping them back to attention. "Shut up," Linho told it. She kicked its side, resulting in a hiss of pain from the creature.

     "Yeah, that doesn't feel so good, does it?" She kicked it again. Her boot was angled so it hit the demon's ribs right where they were the most vulnerable.

     Heong stopped her from doing it a third time. "We haven't even gotten it back to camp yet," he snapped. "Seriously. Get it together."

      "Pattern-lover," Linho sneered playfully.

      "Am not!" Heong argued.

      "Are too!"

      "Am not!"

     "Kick it then!"

     With an exasperated sigh, Heong stood over the demon and brought his own boot down as hard as he could on its arm. The weak bone snapped under almost no pressure. A strangled wail escaped from behind the demon's gag. "Happy now?" Heong growled. Linho shrugged.

     "Good enough."

     "Bitc--"

 

     "Dune!" A sharp voice cut through the alley's damp air. Heong turned. 

     "We're here, Sandbank and I!"

     The voice called back, "Stay right there. It's Aristo!"

     "We know it's you!"

     A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and powerful. Her long black hair flowed behind her like a waterfall of darkness. "Heong. Linho." She nodded to them. Immediately, they bowed their heads. 

     "We have the demon, Minji." Heong pointed his chin over his shoulder, where the demon was still struggling on the ground. 

     "I knew we could trust you two."

     "Thank you." Heong replied.

      "No, thank you two. I doubt anyone else could complete a task like this as easily as you have."

      "Especially not my brother," Heong muttered. Minji didn't respond, but Heong could tell she didn't appreciate his jibe. Well, he didn't appreciate how close Felix was getting to their leader.

     "Hey, I did most of the work!" Linho cut in. 

     Minji turned to her. "Really?" She raised an eyebrow.

     "Yeah, actually." Heong nodded. "She got the demon's attention, led it over to me."

     "Had to get real close to it," Linho added, wrinkling her nose. "That thing acts like a child. Dares to mock one, I mean. It was carrying around this weird plush, too."

     "Wasn't it fully grown when Celine lost it?" Heong tilted his head.

     "For the last time," Minji answered, "Celine didn't lose it. She left it. If you ask me, she should've killed it, but it was probably going to kill itself anyway, if it weren't for those traitors..." She trailed off. "Nevertheless, great job, both of you. You can have the rest of the week off. We'll celebrate your success over dinner tonight."

 

     Together, the three picked the thrashing demon back up and hauled it through the dark alley. Minji knocked on a door, old and wooden and rackety, and waited for a response.

     The deep, snarky voice they knew resounded from behind the door. "State your name and business."

     "Open up, Rabbit." Minji ordered. The door opened immediately. Felix stood in the doorway, his dark hair half-covering his face and damp from sweat--the camp was a bit hot, due to its location. 

     "Welcome back, m'lady." He threw on his most exaggerated gentlemanly voice, obviously trying to make the leader laugh. "Oh, and the others, too, I guess.."

     Heong glared at him.

     "Settle it, boys." Minji said without looking. She stepped through the door and into the dim hallway that led underground. The others followed. Felix took over Minji's place in carrying the demon.

     The Hunters resided in the basement of an abandoned restaurant. It was hot and damp, and impossibly dark, but they stayed there anyway. They had to keep low from the police--their actions could only be excused so many times before they actually faced retributions.

     The only light source were torches mounted on moldy support beams. The basement reeked of stale mildew. It was easy for one of the Hunters to get sick down here. Although most of them had pretty strong immune systems, every so often, one would still get ill.

     They'd lost their last Vice Leader to that a few weeks before. She was a sweet girl, that Al. Short and kind but determined and a hard worker. A former farm girl. Her dying wish was that no matter what, Felix would not take her place. His brother would have to do.

     The other two Hunters sat in the dirt, kneeling in front of a wooden alter. A single candle was lit, and if they focused hard enough, they could see gold in its flames.

     (No, they couldn't. None of them could. But no one had the heart to tell another that.)

     The Honmoon's shrine. Their only way of honoring it at the moment, until they could get more permanently settled.

     The returning Hunters tossed the demon onto the dirt. "Hunters!" Minji's voice rang out. Everyone perked up. "Formation!"

      There was the sound of shoes scuffing up dirt, dust flooded the air, but it all settled in mere seconds. The Hunters all lined up; shoulders squared, faces set, backs straight--they looked like soldiers ready for war.

     "Thank you." Minji nodded. "Hunters, our scouts have returned. With our little friend." She said 'friend' with a sneer, kicking some dirt onto the demon--who had passed out once more, presumably from lack of oxygen. It wouldn't die yet, though. 

     The Hunters laughed a moment, scattered snickers, before composing themselves.

     "This thing caused the death of our mentor! Our leader!" Minji continued. A chorus of agreement rose from the line. "If it weren't for it, she'd still be here!"

 

     "Yeah!"

 

     "Al would still be here!"

 

     "Yeah!"

 

     "Eagle and Snapper wouldn't be traitors!"

 

     "Yeah!"

 

     They didn't deserve to be called by their real names. Only their Hunter aliases, a reminder of what they forgot and who they abandoned.

 

     "We wouldn't have to hide!"

 

     "Yeah!"

 

     Minji grabbed a torch off the wall, pointing it and illuminating the demon on the floor. Exaggerated gags and retches came from the Hunters. "We'll finally have our revenge!" Minji continued. She dropped the torch, letting the flame burn the demon's flesh before dying out. "We'll avenge Celine!"

      "Yeah!" The Hunters yelled.

      "For the Honmoon!" Minji shouted, starting their traditional chant.

      "For us!" They chorused back. Simultaneously, they raised one arm over their chest, the other stiff at their side.

     "We are Hunters, purest of pure/returning the world to how it once were/the Honmoon's wish is our command/the Earth is home only to man!" They sang, words filling the dark. For a moment, they felt lighter than before. They swore they could feel the Honmoon lapping at their feet, bathing them in its pure golden water.

     Maybe it wasn't so made up after all.

 

     The night was loud and lively. The Hunters feasted on what they had--stolen barbeque and kimbaps. They made music from homemade drums and Minji's guitar, singing along to a mix of old nursery tunes and special Hunters' songs.

     They'd somehow gotten their hands on drinks, too. Apparently, Felix had went out in the middle of the night a week ago and snatched a whole case from the local bar. Bottles were tossed around and everyone was drunk off their ass.

     The demon had been chained to the wall, and the Hunters got a kick out of using it as a piñata--favoring either broken wood or glass bottles as a buster. 

     It seemed to learn pretty quickly that there was no point in whining.