Chapter Text
It was like a rug had been pulled out from under him. Jinu stumbled, feet hitting a hard floor instead of dirt and grass. He grimaced, blinking away the weird dizziness in his vision and looking around.
He was back in the penthouse.
None of the lights were on, so the entire main open area he was standing in was draped in shadows, unfamiliar silhouettes of familiar objects looming in the darkness.
All the light came from beyond their broad windows. The city was lit with the dying glow of the honmoon, dim red light filtering into the penthouse living room.
…So the others probably weren’t here. They’d have turned on the lights, wouldn’t they?
He wasn't sure what he was doing here—what he was doing in general. He’d said he was glad to see the honmoon destroyed—and he was, he thought, but it wasn't like he wanted Gwi-Ma to conquer the human realm or whatever, either. And he had no clue how to merge those two things into a cohesive plan. All of the strategies he'd been trained on were out of the question. And Jinu had never been the creative type. He was better at just doing the things he knew.
He was unmoored, now.
Jinu headed towards the window, turning in a slow circle as he walked, taking everything in. It was like a tomb.
He squinted, staring outside the window.
Everything nearby the tower was dark. Even the usual lights in windows from people working late or staying up were nearly gone, as if the city had been plunged into a blackout. But the lights on billboards and neon signs were still glowing, bright dots in the heavy darkness.
Further away, though, a red glow lit up the night like a beacon. Namsan Tower was lit in red, a reverse spotlight shining high into the sky. It looked like there were tendrils of glowing red surrounding it, too, but Jinu couldn’t make out any details from so far away.
…Strange.
I should ask Yuna what’s going on, Jinu thought, which was how he remembered that his phone was still in his pocket. He’d put it on Do Not Disturb for the performance, and… he must’ve forgotten about it after that, but—he slid it out of his pocket, the screen lighting up brightly in the dark.
He swiped into his notifications, hoping to find whatever latest voicemail Yuna had probably sent him—
Oh.
Jinu stared down at the screen, caught off guard for no good reason.
His mom had been calling him.
A vague pang of guilt: he hadn't even thought about her… she must've watched the Idol Awards on TV. She always did, every year. He knew that.
He just hadn't thought…
He scrolled through the notifications slowly. There were a few missed calls from his stepdad, but most of them were his mom. The most recent one was a short text: I hope you’re okay. I love you.
The last one, dating from just after their performance must’ve ended, was a voicemail. The automated transcription read: Jinu I saw what happened on TV, are you all right? Are you hurt? Okay I know you’re busy right now. Please call me back when you have a minute, okay?
The text blurred. Jinu blinked back the hot tears that had welled up again from the ache in his chest.
He hit the button to call her back before he could talk himself out of it in his head.
The phone rang for two counts suspended in time before the receiver clicked, and his mom’s voice came filtering frantically through his phone.
“Jinu? Oh my God, are you okay? Are you hurt? I saw what happened, is everything—are you—”
Her voice was a relief, like aloe vera on a burn. Something familiar and gentle, finally, after a long night of scrubbing away the gentleness in his relationships to reveal the truth.
The tears welled up again, tightening in his throat. Out of nowhere, he missed his mom so much it ached, like all the sadness and childish feelings he’d packed away for the last eight years had burst through the seams and finally escaped. It rose up in him like something physical, an ache he couldn't suppress, building into a strange heady feeling that washed over him like a wave.
Without warning, he was standing in front of his childhood home, breathless in the dark.
He had landed just beyond the front yard, shrouded in the treeline. Wildlife hummed around him, crickets chrring in the dark night. The little house from his childhood sat squat and slumping into the black landscape, windows glowing with a bright yellow light. He could see into the living room, even from beyond the property line. They had rearranged the furniture.
He stared at the scene he’d been transplanted into, numb with shock for a moment. Maybe the weightless feeling from teleporting the first time hadn’t fully gone away yet? Or maybe… maybe he just missed his mom enough to come here instinctively.
“Jinu?” His mom's voice echoed through the phone. “Honey, are you there?”
Right. He hadn't said anything. “Eomma, I…” his voice came out strangled. He swallowed roughly, eyes fixed on the house. How could he say… “I'm outside.”
The line was silent. Jinu stood at the treeline just outside the yard, dark shapes looming over him as he waited, trembling.
A crackly shuffling sound came over the line, punctuated by muffled words. For a moment, he thought she would hang up on him, but—across the yard, the front door wrenched open squeakily, a glowing rectangle of yellow light stretching across the grass. Jinu's mom stood silhouetted by the light, hands braced against the doorframe, still in her grocery store apron. She must've come home and stopped to watch their performance without getting changed first.
Her eyes landed on him, taking him in as he was now—patterns glowing pink in the dark, one hand morphed into sharp purple claws.
He stared back at her, frozen.
She stepped out onto the sagging porch, arms open wide. “Jinu-ya!” she called across the yard. “Come here.”
The dam broke. His vision blurred, hot tears welling up in his eyes, and he couldn't not obey her.
Jinu half-stumbled, half-ran across the yard, meeting his eomma at the stairs of the porch and collapsing into her arms. She held him tightly, rubbing a hand across his back as he sobbed into her shoulder.
“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice said into his ear, soft and gentle. “It’ll be okay.”
He was probably making a mess of her shirt, but he couldn’t stop, tears streaming out in lurching sobs that wracked his whole body, clinging to her like a lifeline. For a long, drawn-out moment, it was all he could do, as if he was possessed.
Eventually the sobs petered out into shaky breaths and gasps. He pulled away, not meeting her eyes. “Eomma, I’m so—sorry…”
She frowned at him, tapping at his chin for him to look her in the eye. “Sorry for what, Jinu?”
“Everything,” Jinu croaked out, and then, “I’m so sorry I left—I’m sorry I joined the hunters, I should have—listened to you, I—” he drew in a shuddering breath, blinking back more tears. “I wanted to fix it, I mean, to fix—me, but I—I just made everything worse,” he finished, voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”
His eomma considered him with a gentle frown, eyebrows drawing together. “Jinu…”
She didn’t say anything for a moment after that, taking him by the shoulders and guiding him to sit down on the top step. She sat down next to him, keeping a hand on his arm.
“I know I wasn’t… a very good mother,” she started slowly, then held up a sharp hand when Jinu went to protest. “No—I’m not. When you were growing up, I was grieving your father, and… that did a lot, didn’t it?” She pursed her lips, looking out at the night. “I’ve thought about it. Especially since you left. You grew up learning to be independent and not rely on me, how could I fault you for acting like it?”
“Eomma…” Jinu stared at her. “That’s not…”
“Don’t, Jinu,” she said. “Just—let me say this to you.”
Jinu closed his mouth.
“When you were growing up, your father was… such a painful topic to me,” she said slowly. “I... loved him.” Her face twisted with grief, as if the words themselves were painful to say. Jinu stared at her, something inside of him going still.
“I didn’t talk about him with you. I felt like I couldn’t. But, when I look back, I… I keep thinking to myself that I should have. Even if you don’t remember him, you have a part of him inside of you.” She took Jinu’s arm, tracing the patterns on his wrist gently. “You look so much like him, now.”
There was a lump in Jinu’s throat. He blinked, eyes burning again with tears.
She sighed.
“I guess I… I didn’t understand why you would want to be a hunter,” she said. “It seemed to me that they hated demons, and I thought… how could you hate part of yourself like that? But then, looking back… I never taught you how to love that part of yourself, did I? …That you inherited from your father?” She met Jinu’s eyes. Her eyes were glossy with tears. “The hunters taught you, growing up. Not me.”
Jinu wanted to respond—wanted to say something, anything, to reassure her, but—
But.
It was like some old ache was being dredged up out of the muck in his chest, where it had been long buried and half-forgotten. Something in his chest was caving in, something old and tensed-up collapsing in relief for the first time.
“If I could go back, I would tell you every day that your patterns are beautiful,” she said, reaching up and brushing Jinu’s hair away from his eyes. “I failed you… so deeply that you ran away to people who taught you that you needed fixing. As a mother, I can never forgive myself for that.”
Jinu shook his head, voice gone. No, don’t—I still love you, don’t—
“You don’t need fixing, Jinu,” his eomma said. “I’m so sorry I ever made you believe that.”
Jinu shook his head again. “I was never mad at you,” he croaked out.
“That’s not surprising,” she said. “But I’m sorry anyway.”
“I forgive you, then,” Jinu said, voice wobbly. His eomma’s face twisted with sadness, and she looked away again for a moment.
“...Thank you,” she said finally.
Jinu sniffled to himself, wiping at his eyes.
“Are you going to stay the night?” she asked after a while. “If you are, I need to get out the spare futon…”
Jinu shook his head, still wiping at his eyes. “No, I…” how could he explain it all? All the tangled and broken threads of Gwi-Ma, and his friends, and the world… his mind was still tripping over her words from before. I loved him. You look so much like him, now. It was all so… his entire world had tilted onto its side. But it wasn't like his friends would…
He paused. As simply as if they'd always been there, the pieces slotted into place.
“I need to go,” he said instead. “There’s something I need to do. But—but I’ll be back, I—I’ll call you tomorrow? I promise.”
She blinked at him, surprised, then gave him a gentle smile. “Go save the world, then,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Jinu exhaled, light and fragile. “Okay,” he breathed, and tilted over to pull her into a tight squeezing hug again. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said as they pulled away, her eyes tracing over his face. “Good luck with whatever you’re about to do. Stay safe.”
“I will,” Jinu said.
It was easy to call on the weightless feeling this time, welling up like a wave of clear cool water, like a deep breath.
Gwi-Ma was a wall of fire behind Rumi, oppressive heat rolling over her in waves, breathing easily through the sheer fabric of her hanbok. It was like a ghost, her limbs easily visible underneath, showing off a matte black bra and shorts.
The awareness was strange. Since she was dressed in such strange clothes, or because of the bright pink heat being stronger than it had been for the past 400 years, Rumi had a sense of being displaced, sliding through time and space in a different way than normal.
In front of them, from beyond the shimmering weak veil of the honmoon, the stadium slowly filled with humans, trickling in like a slow red river of lightsticks. She could hear their rumbling chant, even from here: Gumi-ho. Gumi-ho. Gumi-ho.
You’ve done well, Gwi-Ma rumbled in her ear.
A clammy horror washed down Rumi’s spine, seeping into her bones. Externally, she didn’t move, except to narrow her eyes at the ground.
I know.
Was it a comfort, to know that soon she would forget everything she was capable of?
Behind her, behind Mira and Zoey, an endless sea of demons stood waiting, mirroring the crowd pouring in on the human side of the honmoon. Waiting to see what would happen. To watch the pivotal moment.
This was the tipping point.
“Ready to forget it all?” Gwi-Ma’s voice rumbled—all around them, the air trembling with his voice.
The images pulled to the front of her mind, raw. Her mentor, turning away with a pained look. Herself, staring at her patterns in a palace mirror, slowly moving to touch her neck. Jinu, smiling at her fondly in a lush garden, the honmoon glittering a bright beautiful blue as his eyes crinkled.
Rumi didn’t respond.
Zoey’s claws brushed the back of Rumi’s hand. Rumi didn’t react, still staring at nothing.
“Good,” Gwi-Ma rumbled. “I’m ready to feast.”
Look at what you’re about to do.
Stage lights thudded into place. A hush fell over the crowd, tangible even from beneath the stage where Rumi was. The square opening above her shone red light down into the dark under-stage, draping her like a spotlight. The low chant of the backtrack began.
Dies irae illa
Vos solve in favillam
Maledictus erus
In flammas aeternum
Like a puppet on a string, Mira had told her in dance practice. Like a doll being maneuvered.
For all that she’d struggled with it in practice, it was easy now.
Rumi rose like a corpse, eyes tilted down under the brim of her gat.
And dropped.
“Keeping you in check, keeping you obsessed…” Mira lurched forward like a spider, her voice echoing through the stadium, larger than life as the beat skittered around them, bass thudding. Rumi tilted to the side just like she had in practice, nearly horizontal.
Everything was a strange bubble, echoing and multiplying and growing louder and louder. The screaming voices of humans, the music, her own muscles, her mind. It was far away. It was all too close.
She was doing what she had to do. That was why she was a monster. Who had to do something like this?
Still, despite every cell in her body screaming, despite the strange vertigo blurring time and place and memory and reality, she moved through the song easily, like a dance she was born to perform.
“Don’t you know the world won’t ever love your sins?” she sang, voice clear and strong and beautiful. Poisonous. “I’m the only one who’ll ever let you in…”
Zoey had written this song to echo Gwi-Ma.
Funny, then, how much it sounded like Rumi.
She could hear her own voice singing, feel herself hitting poses that she’d practiced a thousand times. And yet, she’d crawled out of the river again, out of her own skin. Everything passed by beyond her.
The music dropped out, then came surging back—Rumi let herself go weightless, reappearing further down the stage, if she was there at all.
“I love you Rumi!” a voice screamed from the audience as Zoey’s verse started. Rumi scanned the desperate, obsessive faces of the audience. She couldn’t make anyone out. It was a sea.
Was Jinu here?
She hoped not.
But it shouldn’t matter to her either way—it shouldn’t.
Gwi-Ma’s flames grew louder and louder against her back. His heat draped over her as if he was leaning over her shoulder.
She walked, heavy, to the edge of the stage, boots thumping across the glossy floor, as the beat picked up into something frenetic and her sisters joined in harmony.
Living in your mind now
Too late, ‘cause you’re mine now
She bent down, giving the crowd a monstrous, hysterical smile, fangs on full display. Soon they would all be dead. Soon they would all be dead. This was what she was good for.
I will make you free
When you’re all a part of me
They reached out to her, eyes glazed with adoration, like some vast creature of limbs trying to lurch up onto the stage. But as easily as she was there, she was gone, weightless in center stage, rising through empty air, riding the rippling heatwaves all around her.
“Can I get the mic a little higher~?”
She raised her arms like a conductor, the stadium screaming and roaring underneath their song, her voice, Gwi-Ma’s light draped across their faces like a pink sun.
“Give me your desire,” Rumi sang, voice like silk. “Watch me set your world on fire—nae hwanghol-e chwihae, you can’t look away,” she reached out towards the crowd, beckoning them forward gently. Lovingly. I’ve taught you well, Rumi, echoed in her head. The crowd climbed up, crawling up the stairs, onto the stage, happily towards the flames. “No one is coming to save you~!” She’d made sure of it, hadn’t she?
Now we’re running wild
A monster. This was what she was. A monster.
You’re down on your knees
And she’d chosen this.
Imma be your idol—
The music cut out abruptly. A pressurized thrum swept through the stadium.
Rumi froze, staring at nothing.
The honmoon was gone. She shouldn’t be able to feel hunter magic anymore.
And yet—a voice came on the heels of the muted thrum, clear and strong and familiar, singing out a single note.
The hunters’ old battle cry.
She hadn’t heard it in centuries. Yet here it was.
She knew the voice before she saw him, but her eyes searched for him anyway, scanning the crowd on instinct, like a magnet being drawn towards another. She didn’t want to see him, but her eyes betrayed her anyway, driven by some pain buried in her chest.
Her breath stopped inside her, quiet, eyes fixed on the slight frame standing in one of the gaping entrances to the stadium. The crowd was slowly parting for him. He was dressed in shimmering white, patterns covering the length of his skin.
Jinu.
He could hear the music echoing from the stadium as he approached—something heavy and rhythmic, traces of Rumi’s voice filtering above the bass.
There were no security guards at the entrance, no one to take his ticket. There was no one at all as he wandered in, down the wide hangar-like hallway towards the inside, towards a throng of bodies and bright magenta light and loud pounding music.
He reached the mouth of the entrance and squinted beyond the crowd, demon eye adjusting to the scene faster than his human eye could.
A wall of pink fire, towering higher than the uppermost edges of the stadium bowl, shining blindingly bright across the crowd. Three familiar figures, silhouetted in the flames as they hovered high above the audience.
Gwi-Ma. Distantly, Jinu realized that he was seeing someone that none of the previous hunters had seen before, except probably the first of the first. Their ultimate enemy, put to form.
Gwi-Ma was smiling.
The crowd moved like zombies towards his open mouth. Towards the light.
Jinu’s hands were trembling.
He took a breath, digging internally for the clear cool understanding he’d had just a moment earlier. The certainty.
Honmoon, give me strength.
The honmoon wasn’t there anymore.
But his own soul was still his to connect to.
The first hunters hadn’t had a honmoon either, he reminded himself, and something about that thought was soothing, touching his soul with a gentle glow.
It rose up in him like a gentle breeze, and he directed it outward, a quiet ripple rushing through the stadium and pulling a note up from his throat— “Hooohhh…”
Everything went quiet, pierced through by the note echoing from his voice.
Slowly, the crowds of people nearest to him turned, parting to see him clearly with dazed eyes.
Oh, God.
Prickles shuddered down his limbs where his patterns were, as if they could sense the eyes instinctively.
It was fine. He could do this. He had himself, he had his soul.
He could do this.
The words came slowly, dredging themselves up from somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere pained and gentle. “We are hunters,” he said, voice echoing with a demonic rumble. “Voices strong. Slaying demons with our song. Fix the world and make it right, when darkness finally… meets the light.”
He stared at the ground, soul stirring in his chest, waking up slowly.
When darkness meets the light.
He held onto that line, cradling it gently in his chest.
Gwi-Ma’s low chuckle rumbled through the stadium.
“You come here, like this?” his voice was silky and deep. “You still think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself.”
“I can’t,” Jinu agreed.
“And now everyone finally sees you for what you are.”
“They do.”
It was a relief, in a way. He was touching the world with his bare hands for the first time. It was like emerging from underwater, realizing how clear and loud and sharp everything was.
“No more illusions,” Gwi-Ma rumbled. “No more hiding. You destroyed the honmoon—it’s gone.”
“It is,” Jinu said. Good, he didn't say.
He looked up at Gwi-Ma, whose light had nearly swallowed Rumi's silhouette whole. Who thought he had won. You're not so powerful, he thought, and it gave him a rush of energy.
“And now we can make a new one.”
His soul rose in his chest, unfurling like a flower in bloom. Something inside of him had been unlocked. He traced over the threads of his soul internally, and found that they were like strings of an instrument.
He held onto the wires, cradling them gently, and they began to hum.
Like when he had sang with Rumi in the garden, he found that the words came easily, unfurling straight from the strands of his soul.
Nothing left to prove now
He started forward slowly, eyes fixed on the ground as he focused inward on his soul, vibrating inside him like the pellet of a bell.
Nothing but the truth of what I am
The worst of what I came from
Patterns I’m ashamed of
Things that even I don’t understand
As he walked, a strange feeling of relief trickled up through his patterns. Like cool, glistening water, a glinting iridescent light rose through his patterns, releasing an ache he hadn’t realized he was carrying in them. It was as if they were settling into place, after twenty-four years.
I tried to fix it, I tried to fight it
My head was twisted
My heart divided
My lies all collided, I don’t know why I
Didn’t trust you
To be on my side
He looked up, glancing around the stadium as the shades of his soul flowed out like a river. He wasn’t sure if the others were here or not, but if they were, he hoped that they could hear him. Even if they didn’t forgive him…
Jinu’s eyes lighted on a winking quiet star, shining from across the stadium. A pure blue light, weaving down through the stands slowly. Heady relief washed over him—he scanned the crowd with more purpose, eyes catching on one, two, three more of the same lights.
With a new relieved boldness, he reached down further inside of him, strumming the strings of his soul louder, and sang to his friends.
Smiling on the surface
Wishing I was perfect, just like you
Fighting to be flawless
Anything but honest
Thinking you’d hate me if you knew
He kept his eyes fixed on the lights slowly drawing towards the stage, moving towards them.
I lived in fear and
I tried to mask it
Scared of the mirror
I should’ve smashed it
And shown you the madness
And dreams and the damage
“—and dammit, I hate this disguise,” Jinu sang, voice wobbling.
It was like a deep breath, suspended in air, hanging there as Jinu gathered himself again, pulling himself together and moving up the first step of the stage’s stairs purposefully. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, like poison slowly being drained from his body.
“I broke into a million pieces, and I can’t go back,” he sang. “But now I’m seeing all the beauty in the broken glass—the scars are part of me, darkness and harmony… my voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like.” His voice rose, gaining strength and conviction as his soul resonated from his chest.
Then—an answering song.
“Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?” Jaehyun’s voice sang, sweet and clear, across the stage. Jinu’s head whipped over to see Jae climbing onto the stage from the left aisle, gripping Beomseok’s hand to help him up. Jae’s eyes met Jinu’s. I hear you, they said.
“I should’ve let the jagged edges meet the light instead,” Daeun’s voice came from the other side of the stage. Jinu turned to look—Daeun and Garam were climbing slowly onto the stage, eyes fixed on Jinu.
“Show me what’s underneath,” Garam sang.
“I’ll find your harmony,” the other four sang together. Jinu watched, speechless, eyes stinging with relieved tears.
“The song we couldn’t write—” Beomseok started, and this time Jinu joined in on the ensuing five-part harmony: “This is what it sounds like~!”
Jinu felt it slide into place—the five of their souls in tandem again. Not the same as being united in a honmoon, but not fully separate anymore, either. Linked, just barely. It was enough.
Maybe Gwi-Ma felt it too.
“Stop this song!” he roared. From the center of the stage, countless faceless ones erupted from the ground, crawling over each other avalanche-like down the aisles towards Jinu and his friends. Keeping them from each other.
Jinu only smiled, summoning his sword to his clawed hand in a flash of pure light.
The music had picked up into something stronger, now—more confident, hitting a stride. Jinu stalked forward, moving to meet the demons rushing towards him.
“We’re shattering the silence, we’re rising, defiant,” Beomseok sang, voice echoing clear throughout the stadium.
“Shouting in the choir,” Garam sang, and their five voices rose as one: “You’re not alone!”
“We listened to the demons, we let them get between us,” Jae and Daeun sang in harmony.
Jinu rushed forward in a burst of energy, meeting the horde of faceless demons with a whole-body swing of his sword: “But none of us are out here on our own!”
So we were cowards, so we were liars
So we’re not heroes, we’re still survivors
Their voices melded together, the song sliding easily and triumphantly between the five of them. Jinu blunt-forced his way through the throng of demons like chopping through a heavy forest, body light and free in a way that it had never been before. His friends were just on the other side.
The dreamers, the fighters, no lying, I’m tired
But dive in the fire, and I’ll be right here by your side~!
Jinu ran forward, reaching the center of the stage at the same time that the others did and throwing his arms around them, melting into the group embrace. His soul soared, weaving itself through the other five like a norigae knot, fastening the five together as they hugged each other tightly.
He pulled away, glancing at Beomseok and Jae on his left and Garam and Daeun on his right. They smiled back at him, gentle and relieved and… happy to see him.
He smiled back.
Their shared power thrummed between them, strong and interwoven again. More pure than it used to be, maybe. Or more substantial.
He turned his eyes to Gwi-Ma, summoning his weapon at the same time the others did—he didn’t need to look. He could feel it. They strode together as a five, towards the towering wall of flames ahead of them. Jinu looked up, staring towards where Rumi was still hovering with a smile on his face.
We broke into a million pieces and we can’t go back
But now we’re seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our heads?
Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what’s underneath, I’ll find your harmony
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
Mira and Zoey broke from Rumi, swooping down towards Jinu and his friends. Jinu’s friends rushed ahead of him without him needing to do anything, sliding easily into battle mode again as more faceless demons joined the throngs moving towards them. Jinu didn’t move with them—he knew they could handle it. And he had his own mission.
“So take my hand, it’s open!” he sang up to Rumi, lifting a hand up towards her invitingly. She stared down at him—even from this distance, he could see the pain and conflictedness twisting in her face. “We can’t erase what’s broken~! But the pain and the shame was what kept us in chains, let the weight fall away, maybe we can finally be—”
A heavy thwmm fell across the stadium, pressure washing over Jinu like a weighted blanket, so physical he nearly stumbled back. He looked around in confusion—all around, the faceless demons his friends had been battling were disappearing, disintegrating into fluttering red petals of dust that swept back up towards Gwi-Ma’s open mouth.
Jinu’s breath came ragged in his throat, sweat sticking to his skin like he’d just paused in the middle of an exercise routine. He stared up at Gwi-Ma, mind racing.
“Your voices,” Gwi-Ma rumbled. As Jinu watched, Gwi-Ma’s flames morphed, a full face—eyes, nose, mouth—unfurling from the licking tongues of fire. “Cannot—defeat—me!”
A jet of pink flames shot from Gwi-Ma’s mouth, hurtling towards Jinu—Jinu barely had time to throw his sword up in front of his face before the flames hit, buffeting off of Jinu’s sword like it was a shield. The force of it pushed Jinu’s whole body backwards, and he braced his boots against the glossy stage, knees bent as he struggled to keep his sword held up in front of him.
“Agh—” he grimaced, eyes closing against the blinding heat instinctively. His limbs burned, muscles tearing with the effort of pushing away the jet of fire beating down on him.
A scream tore from his throat, body locking in pain as the flames battered down harder. He couldn’t see or hear anything beyond it—the world was bright pink, flames roaring in his ears. He couldn’t hear himself screaming over the sound of the fire rushing against him. His limbs trembled, on the brink of giving out completely—
Something rammed into his side, hard, and he went flying, body weightless in the air for a heartbeat before he hit the ground, body rolling in a painful thudding motion across the cold glossy stage aisle.
He sucked in a breath. The air was cool, a sudden chill clinging to his skin.
What…
Jinu’s head shot up, and he pushed himself up, eyes darting frantically over the scene.
Rumi was standing in his place, holding up her hands against the flames and bracing her feet against the ground. A weak blue glow stayed in front of her like a shield—a soul, she was using, she had a—but it was flickering, not even in the form of a weapon. It would break, it would break at any moment—
“No,” Jinu gasped out, scrambling to his feet. “No, no, Rumi—”
She looked back at him, forcing her face into something that wasn’t a grimace. Her eyes were a deep gentle brown. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out. “For everything.”
“No,” Jinu said again, hands trembling as he lifted them to—what? Pull her away? They’d both get burned. Rumi had put herself into a situation so fragile that— “You—I wanted to set you free.” his voice cracked, watching her struggle, soul slowly breaking against the pressure.
“You did,” Rumi said, locking eyes with him. Despite her struggle, some part of her seemed peaceful. “Jinu, you gave me my soul back,” she said. “Now take it.”
“Take…?” Jinu stared at her, uncomprehending.
“Take it,” Rumi’s voice came out strained. “Use it. You’re a demon and you’re a hunter. I trust you.” She gave him a firm look, soul glowing brighter against the flames.
Oh.
It was instinct, like magnets drawing together. Jinu’s soul reached out and drew to hers, weaving the two together. The blue lights of their souls flowed around them, wrapping around the two of them easily, Gwi-Ma’s flames powerless against the new knot being formed in the honmoon. Jinu reached out and grabbed Rumi’s hand. Rumi stepped back from where she’d been bracing herself, trembling and gasping for breath. She gave him a firm nod. “I trust you,” she repeated again.
Jinu nodded back. He let go of her hand, reaching down into the new honmoon, into his own familiar soul, and drew out a weapon, brandishing it behind himself and swinging it in a wide arc forward. Towards Gwi-Ma. He caught a glimpse of it as it swung—a long gold seokjang, shining and ornamental, clusters of mudang bells set inside the flowery wrought-metal ruyi fixed to the end of the staff.
The swing seemed to sweep much further than the staff itself. Far ahead of them, Gwi-Ma split in two, the cut sweeping up through his flames as he roared in pain. Jinu’s breath caught in his throat, eyes wide—he glanced at Rumi, who looked back at him with an equally shocked look.
“Go,” Rumi breathed. “Go!”
Jinu turned and ran towards Gwi-Ma.
From behind him, he heard a voice lifting up—and then two more voices harmonizing with her, meeting together. “Freee~,” Rumi sang, voice rising with Mira and Zoey. “Freee~!”
But it was more than their voices. A low intonation was reverberating around the stadium—thousands of voices, slowly rising to harmonize with Rumi, Mira, and Zoey. “Ohhhhh, ohhhhhh…”
“This is what it sounds like!” Jinu sang along with the entire stadium as his feet began to lift off the ground, buoyed by shimmering iridescent souls all traveling with him, gliding up from the crowd. “This is what it sounds like!” He rose into the air slowly, flying upward as their song fully bloomed to life.
We broke into a million pieces and we can’t go back
But now we’re seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Coasting on the wave of souls soaring upward, Jinu could still hear Rumi, Mira and Zoey’s voices harmonizing with them, weaving through the layers of their song: Free, free~.
Jinu was shining from within, like a star or a lantern, light and free. He lifted his voice, weaving it into the greater song:
Hollo eodumeul balkhirya
Uri norae bureurira
Gutgeonhan I soriro
I sesangeul gochirira
All around him, the stadium, his friends, were singing the chorus as he wove his song in between it: Show me what’s underneath, I’ll find your harmony, fearless and undefined…
“This is what it sounds like,” he sang, coming to a stop high in the air, his friends floating in a circle around him. All around them, countless souls flew through the air, weaving themselves into intricate beautiful designs of light.
“Our voices all combined, this is what it sounds like,” Jinu sang, linking hands with his friends. They sang along with him, looking around at each other with glowing faces.
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
Truth after all this time, our voices all combined, when darkness meets the light
Jinu squeezed Garam’s hand on his left and Daeun’s on his right, looking around at his friends with love as a new honmoon slowly wove itself into existence before their eyes, a frenetic display of flowing energy, soul-strings dancing around them and then—flying outward, racing down and across the ground like a wave.
This is what it sounds like…
The music slowed. Jinu turned midair, looking out across the crowd and past the crowd, to the horizon. A new, iridescent honmoon glittered across everything as far as he could see.
The air glowed with a soft light. He and his friends slowly floated down to the ground, looking around in quiet awe. The crowd was cheering, but despite the noise, something about the moment felt reverent.
A cool breeze brushed across Jinu’s bare arms.
“I owe you my thanks,” a voice came from nearby. Jinu turned—Rumi, standing a few paces away with Mira and Zoey on either side of her. He hadn’t noticed before, but Gwi-Ma’s fire must’ve burned most of her sheer fabric away—her skirt was shorter than it was before, singed at the edges, and her sleeves now only reached to her elbows.
“...And a lot of other things,” she added, wincing. “My life. My endless regret.”
“I don’t really want your endless regret,” Jinu told her placidly. He should be mad at her, and maybe later he would be, but right now he was too happy to be upset about anything. “I told you, I wanted to set you free.”
“Well, you did,” she breathed, eyes scanning over his face gently. “You have my gratitude forever.”
Jinu smiled at her. She looked beautiful like this, in the light, brown eyes and purple patterns.
“Hey, so, you guys aren’t gonna, like,” Jae piped up next to Jinu, leaning an elbow up against Jinu’s shoulder to lean towards the girls. “Destroy the honmoon, or go eat a bunch of souls or anything, are you?”
Rumi blinked at him, surprised—this time, Mira spoke first. “That’d be a waste,” she drawled, crossing her arms. “We just helped you build this thing, didn’t we?”
“Besides, Gwi-Ma is the one who eats souls, not us,” Zoey said, smiling nervously. “If he’s on the other side of the honmoon, there’s no point in hurting anyone, sooo…” she twiddled her thumbs together, leaning back on the balls of her feet.
“We’re not interested in betraying the gift you’ve given us,” Rumi said magnanimously. “I’m sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused you, but hopefully we won’t cause any more.” She bowed low, Zoey and Mira following her suit.
Jinu shook his head fondly. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you,” he said. “We should be thanking you. I don’t think we could’ve defeated Gwi-Ma without you.” He bowed to her, the others following his lead after a beat.
“...This isn’t going to be another bowing competition, is it?” Garam muttered. “I didn’t like the last one.”
“It’s not,” Jinu huffed, straightening out of the bow at the same time that Rumi did.
Her eyes lingered on him. “...I’ll see you around?”
Jinu stared back at her, mouth dry. “...Do you have someplace to stay tonight?”
Zoey popped forward, grinning at 100 kilowatts. “Don’t worry about us, we’re totally covered, thanks!”
…Right. They weren’t comfortable around hunters. Even if Jinu had obvious patterns, none of the Gumiho girls knew any of his friends.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in touch,” Rumi said, a hint of something teasing in her voice. A small smirk played around her lips, watching him.
Jinu didn’t have it in him to roll his eyes. “I’ll see you, then.”
Rumi turned and walked away, with one last glance over her shoulder. Her girls followed.
“...So, are we really going to let them just walk away?” Daeun said.
“I really don’t think they’ll hurt anyone,” Jinu said, eyes still fixed on Rumi as she headed down into the backstage area. “Besides—” he tore his eyes away from her to give Daeun a reassuring look. “If they do try something, I think we can handle it.”
Daeun relaxed minutely, studying Jinu’s face before giving him a small smile.
Jinu looked out at the crowd, still cheering after all that time. “I love you, Saja Boys!” someone yelled in the distance.
He took a deep breath, savoring the feeling, then turned to the others. “We should probably go too.”