Chapter Text
Truth after all this time, our voices all combined
When darkness meets the light, this is what it sounds like
The last note faded out as the three women of Huntr/x touched down on the stage, hands clasped together. The Honmoon sparked iridescent around them, gently lapping against the stage like an ocean reaching out to greet them. They could feel the Honmoon brushing against their skin. The old Honmoon had been warm, steady. This Honmoon was warm, cold, and every temperature between, made of so many different essences. It was beautiful.
“I can’t believe we did it!” Zoey said cheerfully, practically jumping up and down, looking over at the other two women. “We made a new Honmoon! It seems so strong. This is perfect! I can’t believe it!” She repeated.
Mira smiled warmly at her girlfriend’s exuberance. “Yeah. This is sick.” She wanted nothing more than to pull Zoey into a kiss now, but they were in front of a crowd of thousands. Now wasn’t the right time. Maybe later. A hug between all three of them would have to do. As she turned, Mira suddenly felt a weight pull at her arm, and it took her dancer’s grace and hunter training not to fall. Rumi was on one knee on the ground, her arms above her head as Mira and Zoey supported her weight with their held hands.
“Oh.” Mira was able to read Rumi’s lips form the simple exclamation, though her voice was silent.
“Eomma! Look! I’m dancing!” Rumi giggled, twirling her sparkly dress. A Sunlight Sisters soundtrack played in the background, filling the room with the sound of her eomma and eomoni’s voices. Her eomoni had passed away 4 years ago, when Rumi was 3. She couldn’t remember her eomoni very well these days, but she had her eomma. Her auntie, too. “I’m going to be a singer just like you, eomma!” Rumi cried triumphantly as she stumbled through the steps of a routine she’d just watched on a VHS tape hundreds of times.
Celine was sitting in a recliner a few feet away, sipping a cup of coffee. “I think you’ll be a wonderful singer, Rumi.” There was something to Celine’s tone, a hesitance. It was a tone Rumi hadn’t learned yet at the tender age of 7, but she’d know it by the age of 9. “Your path may not be the same as mine or Aunti Ha-eun’s, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”
“I can be an Idol!” Rumi crossed her arms, pouting. Her lower lip stuck out, wavering slightly. “Just watch!” Rumi resumed her haphazard dance, throwing her hands up in the air. Her hair whipped out behind her as she began a spin. Halfway through the move, Rumi slapped down onto the floor, barely catching herself with her hands. Her lip, which had been quivering moments ago from a pout, now began to quiver in pain as she fought back tears.
Celine was up in an instant, quickly moving over to her adopted daughter’s side. “Are you okay, Rumi?” she crouched down, looking over for any sign of damage. As Rumi leaned back into a sitting position, Celine gently grabbed her hands and checked her palms. There was a scuff on one palm.
“I’m sorry eomma, I almost had-“ Rumi’s voice wavered as tears threatened to escape again.
“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re not hurt. If you want to be an Idol, you shouldn’t cry. Idols only cry when they’re happy. You need to be my strong girl. Remember, our faults and fears must never be seen.” Celine leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Rumi’s head.
“Okay, eomma.” Rumi said with a sniff. She stuffed her pain, physical and emotional, somewhere deep. The tears disappeared, and she pushed off Celine’s hands to stand again, though still somewhat shaky.
“That’s my girl.”
“Rumi! Are you okay?” Zoey crouched down, hand still linked with Rumi’s. She was now partially supporting Rumi’s weight and didn’t want to risk letting go. Rumi was staring out at the crowd, over Zoey’s shoulder. When Zoey glanced, there was nothing to see, just the masses of people coming out of the trance that Gwi-Ma had held them in. When Rumi didn’t respond, Zoey tried again. “Rumi? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Zoey’s eyes wandered over Rumi’s body. There were some superficial burns and… and there were still those awful purple patterns. Not that Rumi was awful, she had to remind herself. No other injury was apparent.
Mira crouched down, moving to shield Rumi from the crowd. “Hey Rumi. Are you okay?” There was still no answer, and Rumi was still staring over their shoulders into the crowd, not blinking. She was breathing slowly, and that seemed to be the only sign that separated Rumi from a statue. Mira waved her free hand in front of Rumi’s eyes, which didn’t move or flinch. Mira tested a finger-snap, and there was still no reaction. “Shit. I think she’s dissociated.” Mira really wasn’t an expert in this, but she still knew enough to recognize what was happening. Sort of. It seemed to line up with the panic attack she’d seen Rumi go through at the Idol Awards. When… when Mira had raised her weapon at Rumi.
Had Rumi had panic attacks before? Dissociation? There were still so many lingering questions, and getting answers in front of a stage of thousands was both not the place to recover, nor the place to have serious and important conversations.
“We need to get her out of here. Help me get her standing.” Mira said to her girlfriend, who returned a serious nod. They stood together and reached under Rumi’s shoulders, pulling her to a stand.
As soon as they tried to take a step, Rumi’s weight sagged, her right leg hanging awkwardly. “Switch with me. She must’ve hurt her leg.” Mira said and switched to be on Rumi’s right. With Rumi’s arms across their shoulders, they guided her off-stage.
“It’ll be okay Rumi. We’ll get you home, and we can look at your leg. You were so brave. You saved Mira and I.” Zoey’s voice trembled slightly as she tried to reassure her bandmate and group leader. The night’s events replayed through her mind. From discovering Rumi had patterns, to… to raising her weapons at Rumi. Then the awful things Mira had said to her. The awful things Gwi-Ma had said to her. There was so much pain lingering just under the surface, but right now she and Mira needed to focus on getting Rumi home. Then they could talk to each other. And Rumi.
Rumi showed no signs that she’d heard Zoey, just walking awkwardly as they encouraged her onward. It was like her body was on autopilot and she was somewhere very far away, watching like an observer in the crowd.
“You were amazing. Both of you.” Mira added, looking past Rumi to look at Zoey. She needed to talk to her girlfriend. Mira had been the first to raise her weapon at Rumi, and Zoey had only followed, trusting her judgment. Then Mira had promptly spat on that trust, leaving Zoey when everything had fallen apart. Breaking things, and relationships, like a wild child. Except she wasn’t a child anymore.
Zoey just looked away before her head snapped up, recognizing the cadence of footsteps approaching them in the tunnels beneath the stage. Bobby whipped around a corner, his expression frantic. “Girls! Girls, are you okay? What just happened?” Their kind-hearted manager came to a stop just in front of them, trying to catch his breath.
“I think Rumi hurt her leg. And…” Mira glanced over at Rumi, who still was barely blinking, staring past Bobby as if he wasn’t there. “I don’t think she’s okay…” Mira felt bad talking about Rumi as if she wasn’t there, but in some ways, she wasn’t.
“Oh Rumi!” Bobby said, reaching out a hand and putting it on Rumi’s shoulder. There was no reaction, and his eyes widened slightly. “Okay, what can I do to help?” He asked, straightening himself up slightly, trying to put on his most managerial crisis management face. He’d been Huntr/x’s manager since the beginning. He’d worried about his girls like every manager should – most didn’t – but especially Rumi. He’d worried and agonized over the way her sleeves seemed to grow longer every year. He’d never been able to get past her walls though, and Celine had always assured him everything was okay. He’d been worried about self-harm, but apparently it was tattoos. Which hadn’t been on his list of things Rumi might’ve been hiding, but that was a worry for later. Whatever was going on with Rumi, mentally and physically, he’d do his best to help.
“I don’t think she needs a hospital. We just need to get back to our place, I think.” Mira said, hoping that she was right. With such a powerful fugue, maybe Rumi did need a hospital, but Mira had already admitted to herself she wasn’t really qualified to make these judgments, so she was winging it.
“I’ll call a car around back. I think everyone’s still shaking off… whatever the Saja Boys did. Shouldn’t be any paparazzi.” Bobby said, entering business mode as he grabbed his phone, quickly making calls.
Slowly the four of them made their way through the underworks of the Namsan Tower arena, Rumi still braced between Mira and Zoey. They reached the exit, and true to Bobby’s guess, there had been no paparazzi or fans. It was practically abandoned.
Zoey gently pulled Rumi into the back of the town car after her, buckling her seat-belt for her in the middle seat as Mira climbed in after her. Bobby climbed into the passenger seat beside the driver and they set off through the streets of Seoul. Like the artist entrance of the Namsan Tower arena, the streets of Seoul were unnervingly empty. For a city of millions, it was like everyone had just… stayed home. Or gone to the arena.
Half an hour later, Zoey and Mira carefully lowered Rumi on to her bed, laying her on top of the covers. “Can you grab the first aid kit?” Zoey asked, looking to Mira, who returned a nod. Mira realized she didn’t know where Rumi kept her first aid kit. She’d never let them help her patch up her wounds after fights with demons. Guess she knew why now. Mira strode out of the room.
“Will you girls be okay? I’ll be at the office. Everything is a mess out there and I need to work with the team on some serious damage control. If anything happens, if you need anything, please call or text. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing right away.” Bobby asked, running his hand through his hair as he watched the list of ignored calls, e-mails, and text messages only grow on his phone.
“I think we’ll be okay. We’ll call you if we need anything.” Zoey said quietly, running her hand gently up and down Rumi’s arm, avoiding the small burns. Rumi still hadn’t shown any sign of recognition of the world around her.
“Okay, good, good.” Bobby turned to the door but stopped partway through the door-frame. “What… what happened at the Idol Awards? You’re not… you’re not breaking up, right? Or mad at Rumi?” Bobby was suddenly worrying if he should leave Rumi alone with Mira and Zoey, but that seemed ridiculous to even consider. They’d shown nothing but care this last hour or so, and Rumi had been up there singing with them at the Namsan Tower Arena. He still couldn’t get the image of Mira and Zoey pushing Rumi around on the stage out of his mind, how scared Rumi had looked.
‘Shit.’ Zoey thought internally, her mind scrabbling for some sort of excuse. “That was um…” she just needed a minute to think. “Those weren’t Mira and me. They were paid doubles, by the Saja Boys! Trying to ruin our performance. Rumi could tell they weren’t us and that’s part of why she was so scared! Mira and I got lured backstage. We couldn’t get back to Rumi in time! There’s probably footage!” Zoey offered, though she had no idea if there would actually be footage. It might show the demons disguised as two security guards and Bobby, though it wouldn’t show their transformation. Footage like that always ended up mysteriously corrupted, but at least it was something.
“Oh, that’s good. I mean, its not good, its terrible. I’m glad the three of you are okay though. I’ll see what I can do about that footage…” Bobby started muttering to himself as he turned his attention to his phone, leaving the room. A minute later, Zoey heard the ding of the elevator as he departed.
It was about this time that Mira re-entered the room, carrying her own first aid kit in her hands. She sat on Rumi’s bed with one leg tucked underneath her as she opened the first aid kit and passed it to Zoey. Mira turned her attention to Rumi. “Rumi, can you hear me?” There was still no response, no flicker of recognition. “Okay… that’s okay…” Mira reached out and gently patted Rumi’s left, uninjured leg. “Zoey and I are going to patch up those burns. We’ll take a look at your leg, too. We need to check you for any other injuries, so we need to take off your costume. Is that okay?” Mira didn’t like the feeling of bypassing Rumi’s trust any further, she’d already been stripped emotionally bare. However, her safety came first. Mira had hoped for some sort of signal, but there was none. In this moment, they were acting as medics.
As Mira grabbed the fabric scissors from the first aid kit, Zoey began to inspect Rumi’s right leg. There were still those dark purple patterns wrapping their way around her leg in a dizzying pattern, and a few minor cuts and burns. True to the initial assessment back at Namsan Tower, there were no other visible major injuries. Zoey ran her hands gently up and down Rumi’s leg, feeling for muscles and bones, watching for any sign of discomfort from Rumi. There was none. Gently, Zoey removed her boot and checked her foot and ankle. There wasn’t even swelling, which Zoey had been expecting. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to puzzle it out. “As far as I can tell, her leg is fine. There’s no swelling, no major bruising, burn, or laceration.” Zoey ran her finger along the bottom of Rumi’s foot. There was no reaction. That was mildly concerning. Even in Rumi’s dissociated state, there should’ve been an autonomic response. “Her reflexes are off, though.”
“Maybe it’s a part of… whatever’s going on.” Mira offered quietly. She’d cut Rumi’s top and sports bra off. A quick inspection had shown nothing but cuts and shallow burns, just like everywhere else. Mira began to work on Rumi’s pants as Zoey pulled off Rumi’s other shoe. Her leg twitched when Zoey ran her finger along the bottom of Rumi’s left foot. That was a good sign, at least.
Zoey gave a small hum in response as she began to work on the cuts and burns, applying antibiotic and burn cream as necessary, placing bandages on any that looked to need it. Mira placed Rumi’s cut shorts and underwear to the side before resuming her inspection for wounds. Just like everywhere else, the damage was limited to cuts and small burns. Her gaze did halt though when checking Rumi’s back. Very low, to the right of her spine and almost to her hip, was a gnarled and old scar. Mira had never seen it before, but then again, she’d seen very little of Rumi. ‘So modest!’ She had teased Rumi, and her heart clenched at the thought. More evidence for a life spent breaking things.
“Its pretty much the same story everywhere. Here, let me help.” Mira said quietly, taking some of the supplies that Zoey was working with and beginning her own ministrations on Rumi.
As the silence grew, Mira glanced over at her girlfriend. “I’m sorry.” It felt so insufficient. There was so much more she wanted, needed, to say. How could she even start?
“I’m still mad at you.” Zoey said, not looking up from where she was currently applying ointment to one of Rumi’s burns.
Mira knew she deserved that.
“What you said hurt. A lot. I know Gwi-Ma was talking in your ear though… We’ve fought before, and we’ve gotten through it. We’ll get through this, too. Just… not right now.” It took all of Zoey’s willpower to speak those words. Every instinct in her screamed to placate, to resolve the situation. A part of her wanted to tell Mira that she had nothing to apologize for, that Zoey had messed up, that everything was fine between them. That would be a lie though, and there had been enough lies between the three of them to last a lifetime.
Mira’s heart swelled at the grace Zoey was extending to her. It was better than she deserved, and a testament to Zoey’s character. “Okay I-“ Mira stopped herself, “Thank you.” She sagged slightly before returning her attention to the medical care of Rumi.
A little bit later, they’d sufficiently patched Rumi’s scratches and burns. Nothing that would leave a mark. Mira had darted to her own room and returned with a sleeping gown. Rumi had always worn pants and hoodies to bed – another wardrobe choice with a dark reason – but getting Rumi into those when she wouldn’t be able to help would be too large of a challenge. Mira gently draped the gown over Rumi.
“Maybe… maybe we should cover her arms?” Zoey asked hesitantly. She’d never seen Rumi’s arms bare, and even if she understood why now, she figured it might still make Rumi uncomfortable. Of course, the patterns were everywhere, so it was a bit like using sandcastle to repel a tsunami but… the thought had to count for something, right?
“I think the blankets will have to do. There’s no way I can get her into something with sleeves right now. Not safely.” Mira said, though she did reach forward to awkwardly shift Rumi a few times so that she could pull Rumi’s blankets up to her shoulders as Mira leaned her leader’s head onto her pillow.
They sat in worried silence for a while, and Mira absentmindedly reached for her phone to check the time. She had a few old texts from Bobby – from about the time of the Idol Awards. More surprisingly, she had about a dozen calls from Celine, some of them quite recent.
The retired Hunter was probably the best resource for everything that was happening, but Mira wasn’t quite ready to call her yet. She wanted to wait a little bit longer, see if Rumi would snap out of it and they could talk. Celine loved Rumi, but the relationship had always seemed a little… strained. Mira wasn’t sure if bringing Celine here would make the situation better, or worse. Of course, if Rumi didn’t snap out of it soon, Mira was definitely going to have to call Celine. Or take Rumi to the hospital. Probably both.
“Are we… okay?” Zoey broke the silence, her voice shaky. Mira was a little surprised Zoey had already circled back to their earlier conversation, but Zoey seemed to pick up on the confusion and clarified, “With Rumi. She… she has patterns, Mira.”
“I know.” Mira responded abruptly. She was still processing that. Raising her weapon at Rumi had been the greatest mistake of her life, but she also couldn’t deny how hurt and angry she was at Rumi for the lying, for what she’d done.
“Maybe… maybe it isn’t her fault?” Zoey asked, grasping for straws. “I mean… nobody knows who her father is. Maybe her father was a demon like the Saja Boys, and so she just inherited these patterns.” Zoey wasn’t sure if that was possible, but Jinu and the other Saja Boys had seemed human enough. Maybe Mi-yeong had been tricked, or maybe even genuinely fallen in love.
“Maybe.” Mira pulled her knees up to her chest as she stared at Rumi, who’s eyes had finally closed some time ago. Though Mira was pretty sure she wasn’t sleeping, just still dissociating.
Time seemed to lose meaning in that bedroom as each girl wrestled with their inner demons.
Rumi’s sense returned in pieces. At first, she was aware of the soft feeling of cloth against her skin. A sleeping gown and her own blankets. Smell was the second sense to return, and she smelled the faint scent of lavender she sprayed on her pillow. Taste was the third to return, and Rumi could taste the faint trace of copper, blood long since gone. Sight was her fourth sense to return as her eyes fluttered open, taking in her own bedroom. Zoey and Mira were sitting on her bed, watching her closely. As soon as her eyes opened, they both began speaking to her, their expressions gentle. Hearing hadn’t returned yet, so she could do nothing but watch their lips move, only guessing at what they were saying. After a minute of trying, Mira and Zoey seemed to stop talking, instead reaching out and rubbing Rumi’s shoulders gently.
Finally, her hearing returned. It was one of the most awful things Rumi had ever experienced. There was only the faint whirr of an air conditioner somewhere in the ceiling, and the gentle rustle of fabric as Mira and Zoey shifted. It was quiet. It was almost earth shatteringly silent. Rumi hadn’t heard silence since she was 15. The silence hurt. She screamed.
Rumi’s hands flew to her own ears, almost clawing at them as she screamed. Zoey, startled by the scream, grew even more distressed as the fingertips on Rumi’s right hand grew actual claws. Zoey lunged forward to grab Rumi’s hand, trying to protect her from hurting her own ear. “Rumi, what is it? What’s wrong? Is it your ears? Do they hurt?” They’d checked her ears and hadn’t seen any wounds, but what if something neurological had happened? Zoey’s mind raced with worries and possibilities.
Rumi was sobbing now, both her hands held protectively by Mira and Zoey. “Its too quiet!” She choked out, her voice multi-layered as the Honmoon rippled pink.
“You might have gotten your hearing hurt.” Zoey said, slightly loud, mistaking Rumi’s comment.
Beside her, Mira had begun to hum the chorus to This Is What It Sounds Like, rubbing her thumb against Rumi’s hand. Zoey was relieved to see that this seemed to have a calming effect on Rumi, who’s breathing was slowly and crying starting to abate. Mira’s hum briefly faded off as she went to speak, and suddenly Rumi’s breathing picked up against as she pulled against them, once again trying to scratch at her ears.
Mira and Zoey exchanged puzzled glances, but Mira resumed humming. “Maybe turn on the radio?” Zoey posited. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but maybe Rumi used music to soothe panic attacks, or whatever it was she was going through at this moment. “I’d do it but…” Zoey held up Rumi’s right hand, displaying the sharp claws she was keeping from causing damage.
Mira nodded and gently released her grip on Rumi’s left hand, thankfully still fully human, and quickly stepped over to the radio Rumi had sitting on a shelf. She tuned it to a random station and adjusted the volume so that Rumi could hear it, but it wouldn’t overpower any conversation they had.
As the music drifted lazily through the room, Rumi’s breath continued to slow and her muscles relaxed. After a minute, she finally let out a long exhale. “Sorry.” She muttered quietly, not looking up.
“Hey, don’t apologize for that. It’s good to know you need music for panic attacks.” Zoey said reassuringly. “We’re glad to have you back. You had us really worried… How do you feel? Any pain? We tried to bandage up all your cuts and burns.”
Mira, who had sat back down on the bed after turning on the radio, reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the glass of water and two pills she’d already prepared. “Here. Pain medicine.” She said as she helped Rumi sit against her headboard, and Rumi took them from Mira’s hand, downing the pills and taking a long drink of water.
“How about your leg? It seemed like maybe you twisted it?” Zoey asked, looking down at Rumi’s right leg.
“It’s fine.” Rumi said, her tone suddenly distant. Mira wasn’t so sure she believed Rumi, but there were some serious conversations they were going to need to have, and she wasn’t about to push Rumi into retreating before that had even started.
Silence fell over the three women. Zoey and Mira occasionally exchanged a glance, and Rumi never looked up from her lap. Occasionally lips might part to begin a conversation, only to close again.
“You never answered…” Mira started, squaring her shoulders. “How do you have patterns?” she asked bluntly.
Rumi visibly flinched, but slowly tilted her head up. She finally met their gaze with her own, left eye molten.
“I made a pact with Gwi-Ma 9 years ago, when I was 15.”