Chapter Text
Rumi hummed under her breath, pen tapping against the frustratingly blank page of the notebook—also mostly blank—propped against her knee. She could hear Celine typing on her laptop in the adjacent room.
She’d told her they could watch a movie later for no reason other than that they hadn’t spent much time relaxing together recently, but it felt like a trap. It wasn’t like she'd rescind the offer, but Rumi wanted to at least have the concept of a song written down so she could feel like she’d earned it.
That was hours ago. She’d been staring at the page for so long the sun had set.
She let out a groan and tossed the notebook to the other couch cushion. Celine chuckled from her office.
“No luck? Once I recruit the other two I’m sure-” Celine started, but she was cut off by her phone ringing. She answered it so quickly it made Rumi’s pulse spike.
“Hello?” she asked. She walked to the doorway and leaned against it, eyes flicking over to Rumi. Then, after a silence, “Mira?”
Rumi’s heart lurched. Mira was the girl Celine had said had a connection to the honmoon.
She couldn’t quite make out the words on the other end of the line, but even muffled she could pick up the way the voice wavered. Celine’s eyebrows shot up and she was already heading to the front door, Rumi trailing after her, when she said, “Of course I can. Are you hurt? Where are you?” There was another response, halting and crackly through the speaker. “Okay. Stay there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Celine pulled the front door open. Rumi was used to being left out of the loop, but this felt important in a way she couldn’t explain, so she asked “Celine, what’s going on?”
She turned to look at her and sighed. “I’m going to be gone for an hour or two. I know I promised we’d watch a movie tonight, but this is… urgent.”
“Can I help?” Rumi asked immediately. Normally she’d be upset, but it sounded urgent, and if it involved Mira then she wanted to be useful.
“Actually, yes. Could you prepare one of the guest rooms, please?”
Rumi nodded and headed for the linen closet at the same time as Celine closed the door behind her. The board was set, she had her instructions, and Celine was trusting her to do something important. It was a chance to make a good first impression on Mira.
And she liked being given a task, anyway.
She picked out a thick, fluffy duvet. After a moment of consideration, she also grabbed one of the thinner summer blankets too. In case Mira ran hot. When it came time to pick the pillows she ran into the same dilemma—would Mira like soft pillows or firm ones? How many pillows would she want? Rumi liked to have two to lie on and one to cuddle but, so three seemed like a safe bet, but what if Mira was the sort of person to build an exosuit out of pillows?
She settled on four. She picked a third blanket somewhere between the warmth of the first two as well for good measure and set that one on the bed—she’d decided on the room furthest from hers, just in case Mira wanted the comfort of a buffer room between them—leaving the other two folded neatly at the foot of it.
After some more consideration, she picked a loose, comfortable set of her pyjamas and laid them out at the bottom of the bed, because what if she didn’t have anything to sleep in?
She glanced at her phone to check the time—21:47. She’d spent an hour picking out bedding. What else did she need to do? Food? Would Mira be hungry? It was late when she called, though, so she’d probably already eaten. There wasn’t any point in making her a hot drink because she didn’t know when they’d be back.
Celine had asked if she was hurt, Rumi recalled. She grabbed a box of painkillers from the bathroom cabinet and a bottle of water from the fridge and set both on the bedside table. Just in case.
She was doing a good job. This was a good and normal amount to do. But… but…
Rumi stood in the center of the room, arms folded, sucking her lower lip between her teeth, wracking her brain for something else she could provide, some other small comfort, or-
She heard the door open and scrambled back to her own room, because if Mira first met her standing in the middle of the guest room she’d think she was weird.
She peeked around her door to watch as they came up the stairs.
Mira wasn’t what she expected, from the glimpses she could catch of her from beneath Celine’s coat. There was a shock of pink hair sticking out from under the hood, and she was tall—taller than Rumi and Celine both. She couldn't take in any other details, because something fierce and protective started surging through her when she saw the bruise blooming across her jaw, the dried blood flaking off her lips, and the way her breath kept hitching like she was trying her best to not cry.
Abruptly overcome with guilt for spying on someone so vulnerable, Rumi ducked back behind the door. She could hear the soft conversation through the walls.
“You can stay as long as you need,” Celine was saying in the same tones she'd once used with Rumi when she woke up from a nightmare, or couldn't sleep at all, “Do you want me to contact the police?” When Mira didn't respond she added “It's your choice. I won't do anything you don't want me to.”
Rumi had to strain to hear the answer, and Mira sounded so defeated it made her heart sink. "No point. It's not gonna change anything.”
“Okay. We can talk about it in the morning. There's some painkillers in- oh. There's some painkillers right here, actually.”
The rest of the conversation was too quiet for her to make out, so she dove back into her bed. She didn’t want Celine to catch her eavesdropping.
Her door creaked when Celine pushed it open. Rumi had been so focused on Mira that she hadn’t noticed how Celine looked, eyes soft, brow furrowed lightly, worry more prominent than expectations for once.
When she didn’t speak, Rumi asked “Will she be okay?”
Celine’s eyes refocused on Rumi. “I think so,” a pause, “She’s the girl who I scouted for you, but she hasn’t agreed to join, so just… give her a little time. Don’t put any pressure on her.”
She thought that it was more to remind herself than Rumi. She’d been growing worried about how long it was taking to get Mira to join, and how long it was taking to find the third hunter at all. If anyone was going to be applying pressure, it’d be Celine.
“I won’t. Goodnight, Celine.” Rumi said, instead of voicing her thoughts.
“Thank you, and… good thinking, with the painkillers and pyjamas. Goodnight.”
Rumi tried, and failed, to not preen at the compliment.
It was late morning by the time Mira padded into the kitchen to join them for breakfast. They’d waited for her, but then Rumi began snacking to stop her stomach from growling and Celine caved and started making food. It might have been the smell of it that finally woke her up.
She was wearing Rumi’s pyjamas, she noticed. They were a little short on her.
Now, in the clear light of morning, Rumi could really look at Mira. Her features were all harsh angles, sharp and narrow and feline, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. The bruise on her jaw was worse now, no longer red tinged with blue but instead an angry splash of purple and grey, and she could see a scab forming at her lip.
She looked back at Rumi and Rumi jolted at the intensity of it. Even with her eyes red and puffy, even wounded and half feral, Mira was beautiful. Not just beautiful like a person, but beautiful like a painting, beautiful like she should be on the wall of an art museum for everyone to admire. She made Rumi feel washed out and frayed around the edges in comparison.
Rumi finally understood what Celine had meant when she said she’d just know when she found one of her fellow hunters. She could feel it in her chest, a gentle tug towards Mira like she had a string tied to her heart.
She found herself smiling and saying “She’s definitely right, Celine.” before she could stop herself.
It felt like she’d been missing one of her senses and had finally just now realised the fullness of what she could experience—but there was an edge to it. A missing piece, even still.
They really needed to find their third.
She realised she was staring, and also that she’d said something very weird, when Celine cleared her throat and said, “Good morning, Mira. This is my-... daughter, Rumi.” She tried not to wince at the hesitation.
It wasn’t as if Celine didn’t think of her as her daughter. She knew she loved her—the parts of her worth loving, at least—but she got the feeling that she was trying to not replace her mom. As if Rumi even remembered her mom well enough for there to be anything to replace.
She must have been staring again. She couldn’t help it. She’d never felt so drawn to someone before. She tried to think of something smart and funny to say. She said “Hi.” and felt like an idiot.
“...Hey.” Mira said hoarsely. Now that Rumi could hear her voice clearly she realised that was pretty too, deep and slow like-... she couldn’t think of a comparison, actually. Like coffee? Did that make sense? Her brain was staggering after her, trying to tell her to stop staring and just be normal and she’ll like you, but not if you stare like a creep.
Rumi said “How are you?” and kicked her own heel under the table for it. Mira just stared in response. It didn’t feel creepy when she did it, just heavy. She opted to take a seat at the table instead of answering, which was fair. Rumi busied herself with her plate of food.
“I have to go and run some errands,” Celine said, meaning: the honmoon was fragile somewhere and she wanted to be there if it tore. Normally Rumi would have gone with her, but she was doing fine with combat training and Mira took precedence today, “You can help yourself, Mira. There’s tea and coffee in the cupboard. Rumi can get you a mug. You have my number if you need anything, but Rumi will be able to help.”
Mira nodded silently, her attention more on the food than the conversation. Rumi looked at Celine and was met with her back as she poured her coffee into a travel mug.
She decided to give Mira a little push. She took a plate and piled some rice on, then hovered above each banchan dish, waiting for Mira’s little nod to say she wanted some. She didn’t know what it would’ve looked like if she said no, because Mira wanted a little bit of all of it—something Rumi approved of, because she and Celine were good at making breakfast. She put the plate in front of Mira.
She stared. Mira stared back. Cowed by it, she turned her attention back to her own breakfast.
“I’ll be back around mid afternoon, I think. Don’t forget you still need to practice today, Rumi.” Celine called from the front door.
“I wo-” Rumi started, but her mouth was full of food so she paused to swallow, “I won’t forget. Stay safe!”
Rumi and Mira ate breakfast in silence. It wasn’t completely unusual. Usually her and Celine talked about the plans for the day, or went over Rumi’s errors from the day before, but some mornings Celine was quiet and tense or Rumi was too in her head to realise she was being spoken to.
This felt a little like that. It wasn’t a comfortable gap in conversation, it was a quiet laden with questions that Rumi didn’t think she could ask.
Rumi tried to not stare, she really did, but she kept stealing glances at Mira as she ate. She could see a moment of hesitation before each bite.
When Mira finally failed to hide her wince convincingly, Rumi figured it out. She wasn’t talking because her mouth hurt. She was eating slowly because chewing was painful. She felt stupid for not thinking about it and making something easier to eat, but, well, Celine hadn’t either, and it was too late now. If she tried to take the plate away she’d almost certainly get bitten.
Mira, stubbornly and haltingly, ate everything offered to her. It felt like Celine had brought home a stray dog, a comparison she immediately felt awful for making. Mira watched Rumi clean up afterwards, eyes following her around the room until she said, “Thanks.” It made Rumi startle.
“Oh, it’s fine. Do you want tea? Coffee? We’ve only got instant coffee in, and we don’t have many options for tea, but if you wanted I could-”
Mira cut her off with, “It’s fine. The coffee is fine.”
“Milk? Sugar?” Rumi asked as she touched the kettle with the back of her hand. The water was starting to cool. She turned it back on.
Mira hesitated, then said, “Both. Two sugars.”
She was giving a safe answer. The kettle boiled noisily, and Rumi found herself wondering what the real answer was. She wanted to know Mira well enough to not have to ask, in the future.
Rumi picked a pink mug because it matched Mira’s hair, and tried not to blush when Mira raised an eyebrow at her as she placed it on the table. She turned to face the schedule on the side of the fridge instead.
Celine had taken weapons training off. It made sense—it’d be hard to explain why she’s training with a sword to Mira—but it still smarted. Rumi liked training with her sword, it was something she was already good at, and Celine very rarely had anything negative to say about it.
But… it hadn’t been replaced with anything. She still had to exercise before and practice singing after, but she’d been given a chunk of the day to do whatever she wanted.
Which meant a chunk of the day to spend with Mira.
Huh.
“Mira?” she asked. Mira didn’t answer, but she did make a soft mmh? sound. “I’m going for a run. Will you be alright on your own? Or-... or, do you want to come with?”
“I’ll be fine here.” was all Mira said in response.
Rumi tried not to let her disappointment sound. “Okay. Well, let me give you my number. I’ll be closer than Celine is if you need anything.”
When she looked back at Mira she was surprised to see her blinking at her. Before she could think too hard on what she did to get that response Mira took her phone out of her pocket. She swore under her breath.
“Everything okay?”
“Battery died. I forgot to grab a charger.” Mira mumbled. The state she’d arrived in flashed through Rumi’s mind again. It felt rude to speculate, so she busied herself by grabbing a scrap of paper and a pen.
“There’s a charger by my bed,” she said as she wrote down her number, “you can use it. If you take it to your room just remind me to come get it later.” She slid the paper over to Mira with what she hoped was a disarming smile.
Mira rubbed the corner of the paper between her thumb and her finger thoughtfully, then said, “I don’t know which room is yours.”
“Oh. One door down from yours.”
“Whose is the middle one?” Mira asked slowly. Rumi had the sense that she didn’t like the idea of there being another person she didn’t know in the same house as her.
“Nobody’s. I just-... Celine told me to prepare a room, and it sounded like it was an emergency. I thought you might want a bit of space.”
Rumi couldn’t read the way Mira’s expression shifted at that—not yet. She hoped she’d be able to soon.
“...Thoughtful of you. Thanks.” Mira said simply.
Before the silence could grow heavy again, Rumi slipped her trainers on and left.
Spring had been making way for summer for a few weeks now, and this late into the morning the sun was already high in the sky. A crisp breeze meant it wasn’t an unpleasant temperature for a run, but Rumi would’ve enjoyed it even if it was—she liked running. She liked the simplicity of the exercise, the way it made her whole body vibrate and her lungs ache. It helped her keep her thoughts orderly.
Normally it did, anyway. Today she kept finding her thoughts veering back to the way Mira had looked when Celine brought her home. The injury wasn’t that bad, all things considered. Rumi had sustained worse during training accidents, and Celine had come back with much worse on days she had to hunt demons. There was just something about how resigned Mira had looked about it all.
She wanted to make her smile, and she felt weird for wanting that so badly for someone she’d only just met.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown
Which shampoo can I use?
It's Mira.
It made Rumi snort softly. Who else would it have been? She saved the number before replying.
Rumi
Use mine. It’s the purple one. Same for the bodywash.
Mira
Should’ve guessed. Thanks.
Was that… teasing? Huh.
On her way back she stopped by the store to pick up a charger for her and, after some consideration, took a detour to a clothes store to buy her some pyjamas that actually fit. They could go toiletry shopping some other day, she didn’t mind sharing hers for now.
Rumi got back by midday and called for Mira when she opened the door. It wasn’t that Mira was skittish, exactly, but she had the feeling if she surprised her she’d catch a stray fist for her troubles.
“I’m in my room.”
Rumi headed upstairs and poked her head around Mira’s door. She was sitting at the edge of her bed, scrolling through her phone while it charged, hair still damp and wearing a fresh set of clothes—her own, this time. The paper with her number was still on the bedside table. She looked up at Rumi.
“I’m just gonna grab a shower, but I got you something.”
Mira furrowed her brow, suspicion immediately written across her face. It would’ve made Rumi laugh if it wasn’t so sad. She put the bag on the bed next to her like an offering. This close she could smell her shampoo and bodywash on Mira, and it made her heart do something strange and pleasant in her chest.
Mira looked into the bag and blinked. “Oh. Thanks. I-... thanks for the pyjamas last night, too. I didn’t bring any.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got some free time now. Do you want… we could hang out? When I don’t stink?” She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. She’d made polite conversation with strangers hundreds of times, with tutors and instructors and people who worked for Celine. She’d never been so worried about how she was coming across before.
“Yeah, okay.” Mira responded, and then added, “You don’t smell that bad. But go shower or I’ll change my mind.”
It took Rumi a moment to recognise it as a joke, because Mira’s expression didn’t shift an inch. She laughed, and she didn’t think she imagined the way the corner of Mira’s mouth twitched upwards at the sound.
She thought about it the entire time she showered.
Mira had migrated to the couch by the time Rumi was finished. She looked over her shoulder at Rumi when she entered the room.
“I put your charger back.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Rumi said, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Mira simply nodded and returned her attention to her phone.
Mira was the one who broke the yawning silence this time. “So, a kpop group?”
Rumi blinked at her. “Oh… yeah. My mom and Celine were-”
“Sunlight Sisters, yeah. Celine’s not your mom?”
“No. My mom was Mi-yeong,” she saw Mira’s eyes flick down, “Celine raised me, though.”
Mira hummed softly. “She wants me to join.”
Rumi hesitated. Celine had said to not pressure her, but now she wasn’t sure how to approach the conversation. How could she explain that she needed Mira to join because their souls were connected without sounding completely insane? She settled on, “Yeah. She said you’re an amazing dancer. You staying here isn’t reliant on you joining, though. Not for now, anyway.”
“I know. She said that too. I…” she trailed off. Rumi sat as still and quiet as she could, in case she frightened the rest of the sentence away. “I want to, I think. I said yes before, but my-... things got in the way. Not like I have anything else to do, now.”
Mira’s jaw ticked. The movement made her wince, and the wince made Rumi get to her feet. She looked at Rumi warily.
“You’re still hurt. Let me-... I’ll be back in a second.” Rumi said, leaving for the kitchen before Mira could argue against it. She grabbed some ice from the freezer and wrapped it in a clean dishcloth.
Mira hadn’t moved when she returned, but her expression had gone from wary to downright confused. If Rumi thought too hard about why Mira didn’t know how to react to someone taking care of her she might start crying, so she tried not to. She held the ice to Mira’s bruised jaw, applying gentle pressure the way Celine had taught her. She caught Mira wincing anyway.
“Sorry, I-...” she said as she started to pull her hand away. But then Mira shook her head, and it made her pause. She waited to be told what to do next.
“It’s fine. It’s just cold.” Mira said quietly.
Rumi pressed the ice back against the bruise and watched Mira for more signs of discomfort.
Mira was looking at her with that same intensity from breakfast. Rumi wished she could read her expressions better, because she had no idea what that look meant. It was half way between caution and something softer.
Rumi broke eye contact first and coughed into her shoulder to smooth it out. “So… um. Do you have any family?” Mira’s expression shuttered and Rumi wanted to kick herself because what kind of question was that?
“No.” Mira said sharply. Whatever emotion she was expressing earlier, it shifted to frustration. Rumi understood. She had Celine, but that was… more like a mentor situation. Some days it felt like Celine was her mother, some days it felt like she was just Celine’s protégé. The older she got, the more things felt like the latter.
So Rumi nodded, and Mira didn’t say much else.
Later, when Celine returned, Mira told her she wanted to join, and Celine sat down to explain the honmoon. She took it… remarkably well, actually. Or she was very good at hiding her emotions. She was eager to have something to fight, something she was allowed to hurt.
It was far from the first time in her life that Rumi felt guilt about her patterns, about what she was. It was the first time that she had to swallow the urge to tell someone about it, though, and that hurt in a different way.
Rumi’s schedule had been shifted to work around Mira. She didn’t mind. Until she found their third member, Celine wanted Rumi to focus on teaching Mira how to fight.
She enjoyed the extra exercise. Mira seemed to… tolerate it. She didn’t complain too much, but she got frustrated easily with the weapons training. It wasn’t like Rumi didn’t understand—it had taken her a long time to summon her sword, and she only had pressure from Celine. Mira had pressure from both of them.
They were practicing hand-to-hand today, so they were on the mats in the airy indoor gym space. Rumi thought about the bruise, now ringed with a sickly yellow colour, on Mira’s jaw. She wasn’t sure if it was a great idea, but Celine was pushing for it, and Mira wanted a break from the weapons, so.
She watched Mira take her hoodie off and toss it over the bench, then roll her shoulders.
“Remember, to the ground. We’re only trying to pin each other, not hurt each other.” Rumi said. It was a reminder for both of them. Tensions had been high for the past few days, with Mira being unable to summon her weapon.
“Heard you the first time.” Mira drawled. She took position opposite Rumi.
Celine had taught Mira all the basics, but she left Rumi in charge of the sparring sessions. It was nice to train without Celine spectating, really. Mira wasn’t nearly as critical.
“Ready?” Rumi called.
“Yep.”
She was going to go easy on her for the first few bouts. Not letting her win, per se, but she wasn’t trying to humiliate her either.
Mira watched her, bouncing on her heels lightly, waiting for her to make the first move. It was smart. Mira was smart.
Rumi closed the distance. She was definitely faster, and she wanted to be inside of Mira’s guard.
She realised she’d fallen for a trap half a second before it snapped shut. Mira hooked her arm under Rumi’s, grabbed the back of her neck, and dropped her weight. Rumi was too caught by surprise to do anything about being forced onto her back. She’d misjudged just how strong Mira was.
Mira’s elbow was against her solar plexus and her other arm was still in the grapple. She smirked at her, vicious and proud, and Rumi’s heart beat hard for an entirely new reason.
“...Okay.” was all Rumi said before Mira was releasing the hold and getting back up. She held out a hand and pulled Rumi to her feet.
“I can’t do the weapons, but I’m a dancer, Rumi. You can’t just… out-maneuver me.” Mira said. Rumi could hear the smug grin even as she turned her back to head to her starting point. It irritated her as much as it excited her.
“I won’t go easy on you, then. Reset.” she said.
Rumi tried to use her smaller, faster build to her advantage again, but Mira was deceptively fast. Her height was a problem, too. As soon as Rumi got close enough Mira twisted to the side and caught her in a headlock. She kicked Rumi’s legs out from under her and eased her to the ground.
She held her like that until Rumi tapped her shoulder this time. It irked her. If Mira just assumed she was going to tap out and let go she could pretend that she wasn’t and she was just graciously giving Mira the win. This way, she had to concede defeat. It was a power play.
“That was you not going easy on me?” Mira said as they reset. It sounded like a dare.
Rumi let out a little laugh at that, but all she said was, “Again.”
Another bout, another point to Mira. She was observant, Rumi had to give her that. Rumi knew herself well enough to know her issue was that she was doing textbook maneuvers.
Mira waited for Rumi to start again. She liked to fight defensively, Rumi noted.
Rumi closed the distance, but this time she feinted left and as soon as Mira moved to grab her she moved right, grabbing Mira’s outstretched arm. She kept her grip and turned, twisting downwards and dropping her weight.
Mira hit the mat hard, and Rumi continued the roll so that she was half lying on top of her, almost curled around her head like a cat. Mira blinked at her.
“That was me not going easy on you.” she said, breathless, grinning like an idiot.
Mira scowled, and then, eventually, as if it had to be dragged out of her, she tapped out.
Rumi rolled off her and held out a hand. She was almost surprised Mira took it—she didn't always handle losing well.
Neither did Rumi, usually. But she was having fun. Especially when she realised Mira had a sly smile on her face when she said “Reset.”
The points evened out after that. Mira still had an edge over Rumi with her height, but she kept underestimating Rumi's strength.
They carried on until Celine told them to go and shower before they did some vocal practices.
It wasn’t until Celine asked who won that Rumi realised she’d stopped keeping track of the score.
