Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her earliest memory is that of Celine. Rumi had been distraught over something, but she couldn’t remember what it was now - it had been so trivial. But she remembered crying. Her face uncomfortably flushed, her breaths hiccupping in her chest, and tears that never seemed to end. She had been inconsolable until a song rang out. The voice was a soothing balm that had stunned her into calmness. Celine was crouched next to her- her throat was like a vase that sang comfort into bloom. It resonated with Rumi’s soul.

Distantly, she had felt the thrumming of something that seemed to blanket them. It felt like nothing could go wrong so long as the serenade continued. When the song came to a close, Celine had smiled at her. “Feeling better now, Rumi?”

That was the first thing that Rumi committed to memory. Before Huntrix, Celine was in most of her memories. Between her “child of celebrity” status and the worry of having her marks exposed, Rumi was never allowed to attend a traditional school. She had tutors, and she was able to join the music and dance classes that Celine held. It was enough to get by, even if whatever friends she made would eventually move on. She didn’t fight it- best not to get too close.

Still, she soaked up whatever affection she could from her peers. They never talked of demons, and the most significant responsibility on their shoulders was having to make their beds in the mornings. It made Rumi feel like an outsider, but it also allowed her to pretend that she had the same wants and worries. It was a play held for an audience of one, but it made Rumi feel more human.

Something that always stuck out to Rumi was the talk of mothers. Well, her peers usually wouldn’t say Mother, it was always a variation- Mom, Mama, Mommy. Rumi knew that her mother was dead, and her dad was a demon. He was bad, and Rumi didn’t want him to be around because demons were scary. But when she saw the other girls getting picked up from class by their mothers, Rumi yearned. Is that what a mother was? Someone to hold your hand? Someone to praise and comfort you? What was Celine if not that?

Celine never asked Rumi to call her Mom, but she did everything a mother would- at least Rumi thinks so. She would braid her hair, taught her to tie her shoes, and how to help in the kitchen. She would even sing to Rumi when she was sad! Celine wasn’t quite like the other mothers she had heard about - she wasn’t one for hugs, didn’t kiss Rumi’s forehead, and was never the first one to say, “I love you,” but she would always say it back. Rumi knew Celine loved her because if ever they were driving and she had to stop suddenly, Celine would instinctively flick her arm out in front of Rumi for protection. Different didn’t mean bad, and Celine was perfect to Rumi. So, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t like those other moms.

Those thoughts had been heavy on her mind, so when the girls in her class talked about Mother’s Day, Rumi was determined to make sure that Celine knew how much she appreciated her. She made a card by flashlight, being careful to smother the light at the slightest noise, and set an alarm to wake her up extra early in the morning. Even though she was grumbly about it, the reminder of her plans had her jumping out of bed.

Rumi was thankful for her hunter training; it made her extra sneaky. Although, she had to tamp down the urge to giggle in excitement. She made it to the kitchen undetected. Breakfast in bed was something the other girls talked about, so she set to work. Rumi wasn’t supposed to use the stove top by herself, and Celine didn’t like her breaking the rules, so she was limited in what she could do. They did have an electric kettle, though!

 Rumi got a cup of her favorite ramyeon while the water heated and even managed to get some of Celine’s favorite tea from one of the higher shelves. Technically, she also wasn’t allowed to climb them, but Celine was always happier when she had some of her tea, so she couldn’t be upset at Rumi for getting it.

Rumi was extra careful pouring the hot water and managed not to spill any. Success! She placed both on a tray with her card, a napkin, and chopsticks, but something felt missing… That’s it!  Rumi quickly, but oh so silently, ran back to her room. Celine didn’t want her to eat junk food, but Rumi had a tiny stash she kept secret. She had been saving the choco pie for later, but it was for an important cause. I always get happy eating them, and I want Celine to have a happy day.

Rumi managed to get back downstairs, grab the tray, and get to Celine’s room without spilling anything or being detected. She gave a quick knock before entering. Celine was sitting up in bed; with the bedside lamp on, it looked like she had been reading. “Rumi? Is it time for breakfast? What-”

Celine stopped mid-sentence, her eyes focused on the tray and its contents. Rumi grinned, excited that she got to surprise her. “Happy Mother’s Day! I wanted to show you how much I appr-”

“I am not your mother, Rumi.”

The words were cold and harsh, cutting through Rumi’s elation. Her tone was even worse than when Celine scolded her. Did she do something wrong? “I- I know that. You didn’t have me in your tummy or anything, but you’re still kind of like my mo-”

Rumi was cut off again. “I will never be your mother, Rumi. She is gone, and I am taking care of you for her, but that doesn’t make you my daughter.”

Rumi knew that there was no blood relation between the two of them, but the words still cleaved through her chest. It felt like she had just finished a long sprint - her heartbeats sounding like the fleeing steps of a rabbit and her lungs burning as if all the air in the room had turned to smoke. It must have been smoke with how her eyes watered. She was a big girl, long past the days of needing Celine to sing her into calmness, and with the way Celine couldn’t even look at her… Rumi didn’t allow the tears to fall because she didn’t want to find out if Celine would still comfort her or not. She didn’t want to chance the answer being no.

“Oh. Ok. I’m sorry, Celine.”

Rumi felt like she was hovering outside of her body, watching it move without her say. It didn’t feel real- more like a dream as she set the tray down with a clack on the bedside table. The tea sloshed over slightly, dripping onto the brightly colored card. Rumi took it. The card made Celine upset, so she had to get rid of it. She barely remembers the quick bow she gave and how she walked back to her room mechanically.

With the door closed behind her, Rumi looked down at the crumpled card she had gripped so tightly in her hand. It was pink construction paper that she had folded over. In bold, multicolored letters, it said, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!” with the two dots of the exclamation points being the eyes for a smiley face. It was framed by flowers. Rumi had used all her prettiest markers, but where the tea had spilled, it bled together.

Celine didn’t even open it. She didn’t even get to see her drawing; it was Rumi and her dancing with flowers, lines of music playing out the hunter’s lullaby above them. Rumi had been so proud of how it had turned out. She had drawn it all before remembering that she had to actually write something inside, so her words were crammed awkwardly up in the corner. “Thank you for being so nice and taking care of me! I love you, Celine! – Rumi”

Water dripped down on the page, making the colors run, and for a moment, Rumi was confused. She touched her face and it was wet. She was crying. Oh. It was as if acknowledging it made it all real, and suddenly Rumi was sobbing. She stumbled, card gripped tight against her chest, and threw herself onto her bed. Our faults and fears must never be seen. She tried to smother her cries into her pillow, her small form shaking through gasping breaths.

Did I do something wrong? Am I bad? Is that why Celine doesn’t want me? Demons are evil, and my dad was a demon, so does that mean I’m half evil? I don’t want to be! I want to be good, good enough for Celine to love me. I want- I want my mom!

Rumi couldn’t tell who that last thought was directed towards. To the woman whose grave they visited weekly, or to the woman who would hold her hand as they walked there. One was dead, and the other didn’t want her for a daughter, so the thought was foolish either way.

It felt like it took an eternity for Rumi to calm down. A few times, she would start to, but then she would remember how Celine sounded, how she couldn’t even look at her, and the panic would swell again. Barbed thoughts hissed in her mind, threatening to drag Rumi down further into her spiral. Eventually, though, it calmed, and Rumi lay there. Her mind felt stuffed with cotton - it was like it had been before, when she had set the tray down. She couldn’t think much of anything, but at least that meant she couldn’t think of anything upsetting either.

Rumi wasn’t sure of how long she lay there. Distantly, she thought about how she should be training, but couldn’t find the energy or the urgency to force herself out of bed. What finally called her into action was the hunger gnawing at her belly. It had been urging her for hours and had finally gotten too uncomfortable to ignore. Rumi got out of bed and looked at the card that now lay upon her sheets. She should throw it away. It was crumpled and stained, and Celine didn’t like it. However, instead of the trash, her feet took her to her little desk, and she put it in a drawer, slipped between two notebooks like a secret.

Rumi hesitantly left her room, padding with the lightest of footfalls down to the kitchen so she could soften the burning in her belly. However, Celine was sitting at the table, head in her hands, and Rumi froze. She must have made a sound because Celine’s head shot up.

“Rumi…” Her voice was significantly softer than it had been last time. It didn’t sound like she was going to scold her, in fact, she sounded rather… sad. The immediate urge to comfort gripped Rumi. “Hello, Celine. Are you ok? Do you have a headache?”

Celine’s face crumpled slightly, and panic shot through Rumi. How did she already mess up?! Celine looks even more sad!

Celine’s voice cut through her worries. “It’s ok, Rumi. I’m just… tired.”

Rumi didn’t know how to help with that, except to remind Celine to go to bed extra early tonight, but then again, she was a grown-up, so she probably knew that. Rumi fidgeted and her stomach growling broke the awkward silence.

“You must be hungry. C’mon, we can have ramyeon tonight.” Celine’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, but Rumi would never say no to ramyeon. The process was eerily the same as what Rumi did that morning. They sat at the table and quietly ate. Rumi thought that if she brought up this morning, then Celine might get mad again, and she still wasn’t sure what exactly she had done wrong, so Rumi kept quiet. Better not to chance it. Rumi had finished the last of her food, stomach feeling much better, when Celine finally spoke up.

“Rumi, I am not your mother. That privilege belongs to Mi-Yeong, and I cannot take that from her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, Rumi.”

Rumi wasn’t sure why her birth mother and Celine couldn’t both be her moms, but she knew not to ask and just allowed herself the happiness of Celine saying that she still loved her. “I love you, too, Celine. I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me.”

Celine still looked sad, even when she smiled, but at least she was looking at Rumi. “You are a kind girl, Rumi.”

The praise soothed the ache in her chest. Celine even gave her back the choco pie, “I prefer yakgwa, so you can have it, Rumi.”

Celine didn’t force her to make up the practices she missed that day, and that night she even took the time to unbraid Rumi’s hair for her. Her fingers were practiced, and doing and undoing a braid seemed like muscle memory for Celine, even though Rumi had never seen her wear one before. Celine quietly sang as she worked, only stopping to remind Rumi to sit up straight. She couldn’t help it! Whenever she would feel those soft hands on her, Rumi wanted to lean into them. It felt good. It felt safe.

Even though both of them seemed to move on from that night without issue, Rumi never tried to call Celine her mom again. The crumpled card stayed in her desk, and every Mother’s Day after was ignored. Rumi was always on her best behavior that day. Celine would reject any gift offered, but at least she could do this. Rumi honed her skills as a hunter, as a singer, and as a liar. She learned how to keep her face still, and her voice level, even when people would assume that Celine was her mom. She knew how to hide her longing looks and take whatever she was offered. Celine was already a good caretaker and an even better teacher; Rumi should be happy enough with that. She knew Celine loved her; it was difficult to see at times, but she did.

The death of Rumi’s actual mother was public knowledge, so when people knew who she was, they made sure not to ask. It was a touchy subject that most people tended to avoid. They acted like it would hurt her to be reminded of it, but it didn’t. It was a strange numbness because it was her mom; she should have felt something about that, but it was just a fact to her. The sky was blue, demons were evil, her mom was dead, and had been for years. Could she miss someone that she had never known?

Anything she wished that her mom had been around for was just things she wished Celine would do. Whenever Rumi started those daydreams that she knew would only lead her to crying into her pillow, she would get up and work. Working with her weapon, practicing her vocals, going over choreography she saw- anything to keep her mind busy so it couldn’t wander into What Ifs.

It got easier when she met Mira and Zoey. At first, Mira was a bit snappish, and Zoey was a bit overwhelming, but Rumi got used to them. When she first heard them sing, her soul reverberated back. It sang, “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Rumi only realized she had started crying when Zoey cut off and asked if she was ok. It was only a couple of tears, so it was easy to brush off. Rumi didn’t even know what she would have said. That she had never felt so complete? That she suddenly knew that she would do anything for them and wanted to spend the rest of her life hearing their songs? Rumi knew better to say everything on her heart.

The trio quickly became inseparable, and sometimes Rumi would pause and think, “Is this what belonging feels like?” Those moments couldn’t last long, though. Any time Mira mentioned the satisfaction she got from killing demons or when Zoey would not so subtly talk to her about the benefits of bath houses, Rumi would remember her place. Only when we get the Honmoon to turn gold can they know. Only then can you belong.

It was the only thing that Rumi and Celine truly fought about. Although to even call it fighting would be pushing it. More so, it was just the one issue that Rumi kept bringing back up. Usually, whenever Celine told her something, it was “yes, ma’am” and never brought up again. A worn card still lies hidden in Rumi’s desk. But telling Zoey and Mira was the one issue that Rumi didn’t know when to stop pushing on. It came to the point where she could quote what Celine was going to say before she said it. The answer was always the same. Our faults and fears must never be seen. They wouldn’t understand, Rumi. We only need to hide them until they get fixed.

Celine said it with such conviction that Rumi would believe her, at least for a time. Until Mira unbraided Rumi’s hair for her, and those finely manicured nails would scratch against her scalp, making her shiver. Until Zoey would pull Rumi so close that she could hear the other girl’s laugh reverberate through both of their chests. Until all three of them would end up on the couch so entangled that it was difficult to tell where one girl started and the other ended. Both of them seemed to love Rumi as she wanted to be loved —completely. It felt like that at least, but she had assumed about love before, and all that got her was a card she can’t throw away, and morose, recurring daydreams. So, at least until the Honmoon changes, Mo-… Celine knows best.

Chapter Text

The Honmoon had been torn apart and strung anew. Gwi Ma had been defeated, and demon activity had sputtered to a near halt. There would be an occasional pocket here or there, but it was more of a chore than a challenge. Between that and their hiatus, Rumi should be itching out of her skin, yet it was the most comfortable she had ever felt. It was gentle waves after a lifetime in a storm.

No more secrets, they agreed. Rumi laid her heart open, and against her most tumultuous fears, the feelings were returned. It was better than she could have ever imagined. She had the honor of waking to arms wrapped around her and fingers trailing over her marks. Rumi could lean into the affection like she never had before- willingly bare her throat to the fangs of their devotion. Vulnerability had never tasted so sweet.

However, there was still a hollow carved into her chest.

Celine and Rumi had barely talked since that day, since Rumi had gotten on her knees and begged with sword in hand. There had been tense phone conversations where they danced around what wasn’t being said, but they hadn’t seen each other in person. At first, it was too painful to do so- that moment of raw desperation stalked her mind in the dead of night. There was also the lingering hope that Celine would be the one to bridge the gap first. Rumi didn’t know why she let the thought linger- Celine has never been one to surrender first.

So, when the thoughts only left her with an ache instead of a stab, Rumi called Celine and let her know she would be over, that they needed to talk. She wasn’t met with any resistance, just quiet acceptance. In fact, Mira and Zoey put up more of a fuss than either of them.

“She doesn’t deserve anything after how she treated you.”

“Rumi, you don’t have to do that- it’s ok.”

“We don’t want you getting hurt.”

How could Rumi make them understand when she didn’t understand it entirely either? Yes, Celine had hurt her. While Gwi Ma couldn’t stoke the fires of her shame through her patterns, Celine was the one to set the spark. Yet, at the same time, Celine raised her. She was the closest Rumi got to understanding what a mother was. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much, because for every memory of Celine telling her to cover up, there was one of her putting a soothing hand on her covered shoulder and asking if she was ok after practice. For every discipline, there was quiet comfort. Hands gently braiding and unbraiding her hair, making sure not to tug at her scalp. A plate of cut fruit being set on her desk while she studied. That hauntingly captivating voice lulling her to sleep.

Maybe if it had all been bad, Rumi wouldn’t feel so conflicted, but Celine was everything all at once. Her presence made anxiety race through Rumi’s veins, needing to constantly check that everything was perfectly in place, yet Celine was also the one she sought out at her most vulnerable. She gave the kind of security only a parent can give; the type that had Rumi gripping her teddy bear as a child and threatening the shadows that they better leave her alone or else Celine would come. The name held the weight of a prayer. It meant protection above all else.

It wasn’t as simple as cutting her off- it would be the same as amputating a scarred limb because it ached when there was rain. It only hurts when the weather is bad, and Celine had held Rumi when the worst storms frightened her from her own bed. Rumi hadn’t done that in well over a decade, and recent forecasts had been gloomy, but it still mattered.

Mira and Zoey’s complaints died at her resolution, but that didn’t stop them from coming along. They had bracketed her like guard dogs, and Rumi was almost surprised that there was no growling when Celine opened the door. She looked tired in a familiar way, but that Rumi had only seen in glances. Celine’s smile rarely reached her eyes, and this was no exception as she invited them in, her movements lacking their usual grace. There was a quiet back and forth between the trio before Mira and Zoey broke off to give them privacy, although Mira made a point to mention that they would be close by, just in case. When the door closed, the silence was stagnant. If pressed down as a physical weight, and for once, Celine was the first to break it.

“Tea?”

Rumi nodded, and the two took familiar steps to the kitchen. Nothing seemed to have changed since she was there last- a time capsule of her childhood. Celine’s choice in tea was no surprise; it had been the same danggwi-cha blend for as long as Rumi could remember. She had tried it many times before, something she wanted to have in common with Celine, but Rumi’s face had always scrunched at the bitter flavor. Celine wouldn’t scold her for not finishing it; she would just add whatever remained to her own cup.

So, Rumi wasn’t surprised to see Celine pull that recognizable tin out of the cabinet. What did surprise her was that the older woman also pulled out a tin of daechu-cha. It was Rumi’s favorite, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, Celine still had some on hand. Her throat tightened, and she was even more thankful for the drink.

The silence was a familiar soundtrack always stuck on repeat in this house. It felt sacrilegious to break it, but Rumi had always been a demon hiding in a church.

“Mira and Zoey accept me. All of me- marks and all. Despite all the lies, they still love me.”

Rumi’s voice was quiet yet unfaltering. She kept the fangs at bay that wanted to bark out, “You were wrong! I could have told them! I could have had their love for years.”

She swallowed down the anguished wrath with her tea. The sweetness was a balm over old injuries.

“I figured as much, seeing the new Honmoon. I’m happy for you, Rumi.”

Celine smiles, and for once, it doesn’t look so painful. It wasn’t the reaction Rumi was expecting- the easy acceptance gave her whiplash with how adamant Celine had always been about never letting them know.

“Are you though? You always seemed like you hated the idea. You were always so sure that they would hate me. Can you not stand the fact you were wrong about them?” Rumi bit back. There was a sharpness in her tone that went against everything she was taught.

Celine didn’t give her reproach, didn’t snap at her for “talking back;” she just sighed as she looked into her cup as if it held the answers. “I am happy for you, Rumi. When I heeded you against it, it wasn’t because I hoped that they would react that way. I thought I was protecting you. Do not mistake my caution for cruelty. If they hadn’t accepted your heritage, it would have destroyed you, and that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. Not with the Honmoon and certainly not with you.”

She looked at Rumi. Her eyes shied away from her patterns, not lingering on them for long, but Celine still looked at her. “Your mother made me promise to protect you, but it seems that I ended up smothering you instead.”

A sigh uncurled from Celine’s chest, and Rumi had never seen her mentor look so defeated. “When you offered that blade to me, I knew I had broken that promise. Even when you looked like that, even when you looked like everything I was taught to hate, I could still see your mother. I could still see the little girl I raised. I couldn’t spit in the face of the last thing Mi-Yeong asked me. I couldn’t be responsible for your death as well.”

As well? Rumi froze at the implication, and before she could dare ask, Celine was talking.

“Your mother had always been such a kind soul. You get that from her- it certainly wasn’t my doing. She was the type to catch bugs and let them outside instead of killing them. The type that we had to purposefully schedule things with a time cushion, because she would never brush fans off if they recognized us. She’d always say, “They always get so happy, and it doesn’t cost me but a few minutes of my day- I think that’s a fair trade! You never know how much just listening is worth to someone.”

Rumi was stunned- all these years, her mother had been a topic to avoid. Any conversation about her was a dance around landmines, and whatever information she would pull was done with the same intensity as defusing a bomb. Rumi would ask questions, especially when she was young, but she learned to stop.

Celine would rarely get upset with her over it, but Rumi could always see the grief in her face, how it seeped into her voice. Celine prided herself on how well she hid her feelings, but she was all Rumi knew. Celine was her original reference for what it meant to be a person. She knew Celine’s tells as much as she knew herself- it was her mother tongue. The twitch of a brow, slight tightness in her jaw, the tint to her voice so subtle that it made her question if it was there at all. Something that would barely be a footnote to someone else were chapters to Rumi. Celine never spoke openly about what she was feeling, so Rumi taught herself to read between the lines.

She learned not to ask because it was something she could do to help Celine, to not add to the burden already on her shoulders. Yet all those years of keeping things so tightly bound finally made the seams pop, and words kept spilling from Celine’s mouth. Her gaze was distant as if memories played before them instead of her reflection in the tea.

“Mi-Yeong wore her heart on her sleeve, and even though I warned her to be more cautious, I never pushed. It is something that worried me, yet I admired her for it. She wasn’t kind because of naivety; it was forged through will and blood. She carried gentleness because she knew cruelty; She had seen the violence demons cause firsthand. Mi-Yeong had lost her mother to a demon, and yet, she never gave in to wrath.” It was news to Rumi; she didn’t know anything about her grandparents, the concept even more foreign than a mother. She wanted to dig into that, to finally learn more about her human half, but Rumi was frozen. As if any sudden movement or inquiry would scare Celine off and make her close back up as she had always been.

“Even knowing what they were capable of, she would still say a prayer after every hunt we did. She prayed for the demons. She would say that she hoped their souls would finally be at rest. I should have nipped that sympathy in the bud, but I thought she knew better. She had more reasons to hate demons than any of us. Yet somehow, she managed to-”

Celine cut herself off, face tight, and she poured herself some more tea. Her hand trembled, and Rumi was hyper aware of the resentment in the older hunter’s voice as she talked of demons. It didn’t hurt as much as it would have a month ago, but it still sat heavily in Rumi’s chest. She rubbed at the patterns hidden by her sleeves.

Just as Rumi had learned Celine’s expressions, Celine had learned hers. The ire left the older woman’s face, and her hand twitched as if for a moment she thought of reaching out towards Rumi. She drank and started speaking again instead.

“Mi-Yeong had always loved children.” There was a soft reverence in Celine’s voice whenever her mother’s name left her lips. “Whenever she saw a child at one of our promotions or fan events, she would just light up. When we were out, Mi-Yeoung would always smile back or wave at any toddler that looked her way. When Byeol and I shied away from a child crying, Mi-Yeong would go and offer her help. Even if it was a stranger, even if we were trying to be inconspicuous.”

Celine huffed in a way that could almost count as a laugh. “We had our covers blown so many times because of her, but we could never stay mad. That’s why when she suddenly announced her pregnancy, having never mentioned a partner, Byeol and I thought she just wanted to be a mother. We did our best to support her- helping her decorate a nursery, reading parenting books, and making sure she was taken care of. We didn’t realize anything was off until she started drawing back from us; she was drifting away, and we couldn’t understand why. But then you were born, and it suddenly made sense.”

Rumi tried to beat back the instinctive deprecation, drinking her tea as if she could swallow the shame. A mistake since the day you were born.

“I never asked to be made.” Rumi’s fingers held tight onto her cup, grounding herself with the warmth. The sweetness lingering on her tongue.

“I know you didn’t. That was your mother’s choice, no fault of your own.” Rumi knew Celine was trying to be kind, but it felt careless. The reassurances were dim compared to the burn of fault.

“That choice was a betrayal of the highest order. It went against everything we were taught and worked for, and yet I still cared for her. I never stopped, even when it hurt; especially when it hurt.” The words dripped with melancholy, and it still stunned Rumi how much emotion, how many “faults”, Celine was showing. It was like finally reading a book she didn’t have to translate first.

“Byeol had to take time off away from us. She never hated Mi-Yeong; she just needed time to process. I needed that too, but I couldn’t leave your mother, weak from childbirth and with an infant all alone. Byeol busied herself hunting. She always preferred working things out physically- that woman could never stay still for long.” There was that ghost of a smile, so slight it could have been a mirage.

“Demons had taken notice that one of us was weak and were trying to press the advantage. I was supposed to keep her safe, but I was young and foolish.” She spat the word like it was a sin.

“I felt so betrayed, as if our bond had been thrown out to make room for a demon of all things. Mi-Yeong let me scream as if I were some child that she needed to calm. She looked at me so tenderly, as if she had the right to do so after everything. I let my emotions get the better of me, let them control me, and I left her. I left her alone because, in that moment, I prioritized my feelings over her safety. To this day, it is my biggest regret.” For a moment, Rumi recalled Jinu’s anguished cry of, “I left them,” and wondered if in another life Gwi-Ma would have whispered into Celine’s ear too.

“I tried to vent my frustrations on any demon I could find, and I was already too far away when I saw the tear open. Emotions are so volatile. Boiling rage can turn to icy fear in an instant. I must have cut down dozens of demons that had swarmed our home, but it still wasn’t enough. I was too late.” The regret was heavy on her tongue, and it caused tears to well up in Rumi’s eyes because she understood. She remembers how, on the night of the idol awards, when everything had given in to despair, the desperate need to protect Mira and Zoey was what pushed her to action. She was resigned to their retaliation, their hatred, so long as she could save them. Rumi was lucky that fear didn’t come to fruition. She was lucky that she wasn’t too late.

Rumi could see how Celine’s fingers gripped around her cup, how her shoulders slumped, and her eyes remained glassy, staring at something Rumi couldn’t see. Celine was too caught up in the memory of the worst day of her life.

She could still remember how her heart raced and how the scent of blood was so heavy in the air that she could taste iron. She found Mi-Yeong in the nursery they had decorated together, collapsed beside the crib with her weapon weakly grasped in her hands. It glitched as if struggling to stay physical and fell away altogether when Mi-Yeong saw her. Despite the blood soaking through the front of her dress, despite the fact that Celine had screamed at her only hours before, she still smiled when their eyes met.

Celine had always been so sure-footed, but she had all the grace of a newborn fawn as she rushed to the other woman’s side.

“Mi-Yeong! No, no, no.” Celine had snatched the closest thing she could to staunch the blood flow. It was a baby blanket, and the pink quickly bled to red as she pressed it against Mi-Yeong’s abdomen. There was too much damage and not enough she could do. There was too much blood. Fear strangled Celine, clouding her judgment from the truth she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Hold on, Mi-Yeong. Hold on, please- I’ll call an ambulance, and we can get you patched up. You’re going to be okay.”

You have to be okay.

Celine tried to fumble the clunky cellphone out of her pocket, but a gentle grip around her wrist stopped her frenzied motions.

“We both know they won’t get here in time, Celine. So please, stay with me.” She had never heard Mi-Yeong’s voice so frayed. She wasn’t supposed to sound like that. Her voice had always been so honeyed. Mi-Yeong’s voice was never supposed to sound like a death rattle.

The terror tightened in Celine’s throat, stripping away the source of her power. Her voice didn’t sound the same to her own ears- it was too weak and rasping. It wasn’t the voice of the leader of the Sunlight Sisters, but of a soul being torn apart.

“But-but, we can still try. We can-” A sob cut her off, and a hand caressed her face, wiping the tears away and shushing her gently. Celine could feel the blood smearing on her face, but it didn’t stop her from cupping her hand over Mi-Yeong’s own. The heat of the blood burned her skin, but she needed the warmth of Mi-Yeong’s hand on her- needed proof that she was still alive.

“How can you still be so calm?!” Celine snapped like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Everything was falling apart, and yet Mi-Yeong still wore the smile she reserved for quiet breakfasts and nights cuddled together on the couch. It was sweet longing and safety. The thumb stroked Celine’s cheek, and that patient smile, while strained, never faltered.

“Because you’re here with me.”

Celine folded; her rigid form breaking apart at the seams. This wouldn’t be happening if I had just stayed with you in the first place. She kept holding Mi-Young’s hand, pressing it against her face as if it was going to disappear any second. She still hopelessly held the now-soaked blanket against the wounds. If it could buy her even seconds more, Celine would gratefully go into a debt that their records could never hope to pay off. She rested her face between Mi-Young’s neck and shoulder, as if her tears could be hidden in the dampness of the blood.

“I am so sorry, Celine. Tell Byeol I’m sorry too; I never wanted to leave you like this.” Her voice was slipping into a rasp. It sounded like every word took more air than any of their performances.

“Can you promise me something?” Mi-Yeong could ask Celine to gut herself now so she wouldn’t have to cross over alone, and she would have done it in an instant. Celine knew she never would, though- that’s not who Mi-Yeong was. She was too kind.

“Yes, anything.”

“Promise to protect Rumi.”

Celine choked on another sob. She had been mistaken; Mi-Yeong could be cruel as well.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s selfish, but there’s no one else I trust more to do it. I love Byeol, but she’s not the most… responsible person,” there was an attempted laugh that came out in a wheeze. “You’ve always been the best leader we could ask for, and I’m sure any kid raised by you would have a good head on their shoulders, so please,” Mi-Yeong’s breathing stuttered, “Promise me?”

A part of Celine was furious because how could Mi-Yeong ask her that, knowing full well that she could never say no to her? It was an illusion of choice. Mi-Yeong had always been Celine’s biggest soft spot. It was a vulnerability that she never wanted to snuff out; not that she could have even if she tried. Celine pulled back slightly, just so she could see Mi-Yeong’s face. She had never been so pale, but Celine wanted to commit it to memory. The color of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose. It was like watching a sunset so showstopping, you couldn’t help but pause; not being able to look away because you didn’t want to miss a second of it before it was gone.

“I promise.”

Mi-Yeong beamed as if Celine had promised her the world (maybe she did), and she had never looked so devastatingly beautiful and heartbreaking.

“Thank you. I know my baby girl will be safe with you.” Mi-Yeong started to go slack, as if securing that promise was the only thing keeping her afloat. Her eyes were struggling to focus, and if Celine hadn’t been holding her hand in place, it would have already dropped. Still, her thumb weakly wiped another tear away. She still tried to comfort, even with the last of her strength.

“I love you, Celine.”

And she was gone.

The Honmoon rippled, and Celine couldn’t tell if it was because it felt the loss of one of its hunters or if it was because her voice wanted to rip itself apart in its anguish. She held Mi-Yeong close to her chest until her clothes were soaked and the scent of blood was carved into her senses.

All of them had taken hits over the years; it came with the job description of demon hunter, but none of the scars could compare to the agony rending her chest apart. Her soul was burning, using her rib cage as kindling and searing her throat with smoke. The choking sobs left her gasping and lightheaded, and she kept clutching onto Mi-Yeong, wishing she could hold her back. Like the nights where Celine’s mind was too active for sleep and Mi-Yeong would find her in the kitchen nursing tea. Mi-Yeong would never push, only offer arms as a safe place to rest and an open ear to any secrets kept from the day. Pressed so close, the stillness of Mi-Yeong’s chest was a stark contrast to the sputtering jumps of Celine’s own.

A sharp whine joined her, and it startled Celine into a forced awareness. A baby was crying; Rumi was crying. She needed to take care of her. She promised.

Celine adjusted Mi-Yeong, laid her down gently as if she could convince herself that she was just sleeping. She couldn’t linger with the cries urging her along, so Celine stumbled to her feet to check the miraculously untouched crib. The infant didn’t seem injured, just confused and distressed, as if she could understand what she had just lost.

Focus. Focus on Rumi. Celine started to reach out because that’s what you do when a baby cries: you comfort them. But those dark purple marks creeping from the infant’s sleeve stopped her short. Celine couldn’t force her hand any further. She didn’t trust herself to hold Rumi. Not yet. There was the instinctive urge to summon her weapons at the sight of those patterns. They were a sign of depravity and destruction, but they were on the child that Mi-Yeong had held so softly in her arms hours ago.

Celine was torn between the teachings ground into her bones and the promise she knew she could never break. Rumi was still crying, and Mi-Yeong would know what to do; she would know exactly how to soothe her, but she couldn’t because she was de-

Celine did the only thing she could think of, the same thing that Mi-Yeong always fawned over; she sang. A forlorn dirge forced to be a lullaby. The Honmoon faintly hummed even though her voice cracked, and all of her breath control seemed to have left her. Her voice had never felt so foreign in her throat, and her own mentor would have reprimanded her for the haphazard notes, but still, the cries slowly quieted. Rumi was looking at her, face puffy from tears, but she was gazing at Celine with as much wonder as an infant can show. It made Celine feel like the promise was something she could keep, even if she ripped herself in half to do so.

Celine came back to herself at the sound of sniffling and saw her —saw Rumi, teary-eyed and trying her best to look brave. Celine was reminded of doctors' appointments and first hunts.

“Look at you, you’re crying just as you did back then.” It didn’t feel like a reprimand, especially when Celine offered her a tissue. Rumi dabbed at her eyes, doing her best to salvage what remained of her makeup. It was a futile attempt, but at least it gave her hands purpose.

“I’m not a baby anymore, Celine.” Yet saying it made her feel even more like a child.

“I know.” She said as if the knowledge meant everything yet nothing.

Silence draped over them again as Rumi gathered her thoughts; it wasn’t as heavy as before. It was less crushing yet filled with morose understanding. Rumi was the one to break it this time.

“You really loved my mom.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I did.” There was a light in Celine’s eyes, a crinkle to her lips that seemed like half-forgotten muscle memory. “We were all close, but Mi-Yeong was my… everything. She was sunlight.” The words dripped with the reverence as a believer before an altar, as sweet nothings whispered before one was fully awake. Rumi heard that tone in Mira and Zoey’s voices; she had heard it in her own.

“Did you two ever…?” She couldn’t help but ask because asking was allowed for once, and she remembered as a little girl she wondered why her mother and Celine couldn’t both be her moms.

“No.” A tremor to her voice that nailed the finality of the answer. “No, we never found the time or place. We were so busy with our work, our double lives. We never got the chance to breathe, and we had to protect the Honmoon. There was never a chance to sort out those feelings, and plans kept getting pushed back. I thought I had more time.”

More time with her. More time to admire without having to risk everything. More time to cook dinners and fold laundry with her. Even with a job as dangerous as theirs, Celine never considered a life without Mi-Yeong by her side.

“It didn’t help that those kinds of relationships were even more frowned upon then than now. Idols aren’t even supposed to date, let alone those of the same sex. If it ever got out to the band, our mission would be compromised. If the Honmoon failed and Gwi Ma was allowed into this world, then there would be no life to live. Maybe if I had acted on it, maybe if I could have given her what she so desperately wanted, she never would have…” Celine closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in to compose herself. “It does no good to dwell on what ifs.”

Rumi knew the feeling well. She always had backup plans for her backup plans, and her mind always gave her too many possibilities. What if she had told the girls sooner? What if they hadn’t accepted her? What if Gwi Ma had won? What if Celine had done what she had begged of her?

They were questions that kept her up at night, but at least she had Zoey and Mira close to reassure her that it hadn’t happened. Celine didn’t have that, and the knowledge didn’t erase Rumi’s pain, but it let her empathize. How would I be if I didn’t have Zoey and Mira’s support? How much more of a demon would I have become if I were alone? She didn’t have to stretch her imagination; she only had to remember that day everything fell apart.

There was a lull as Celine seemed to compose herself. Out of habit, Rumi felt herself matching her mentor as she sipped her tea. It was something to ground her as her mind tried to process the abundance of information given. The two of them quietly drinking together was bittersweet nostalgia.

 Celine straightened up, and her gaze had gained more of a resolve. She reached out and, pausing only a moment, put her hand on Rumi’s own. Put her hand on Rumi’s patterns.

“Rumi, I have never stopped hating demons, and honestly, I cannot say if I ever will. Despite that, I have also never stopped loving you. I know it may not have been obvious to you, but I never stopped. Not for a moment. You may not be my daughter, but you’ll always be mine. You are kind, fierce, and driven, and while it was challenging, it was still a privilege to raise you. Even if it would have been so much better if your mother could have been there for it.”

Celine had never been cruel with Rumi, but she also had never been the most forthcoming with praise- it was a prize to be earned, not freely given out. It felt like being offered a buffet after a lifetime of taking scraps, and Rumi didn’t know what to do with herself. Her throat tightened, her eyes burned, and she knew her makeup was beyond saving.

“Mi-Yeong would have loved to raise you. She would have been much better at it than I was. She loved you so much, and I see so much of her in you. The two of you would have gotten along so well.” Celine’s hand that had rested on Rumi’s own moved up and cupped her cheek; this time, not hesitating over the patterns as she wiped a tear away. The action caused more of them to flow.

“You look so much like her. It has been bittersweet seeing bits of her through you grow up all over again, and one day, I hope to see you grow older than she ever got to be.”

Rumi let out a small sob, and Celine went to pull her hand back, but her restraint had been unraveled, and Rumi instinctively covered Celine’s hand with her own to keep it there. She felt like a child again, leaning into her mentor’s touch. Through the tears, Rumi couldn’t see how Celine’s expression changed, but she could hear the crack in her voice as if it couldn’t hold the weight of her emotions.

“I want to see that day, Rumi. You, Mira, and Zoey have made me start going gray earlier than I expected with how reckless you all are, and I may not agree with all your choices, but I still want to be a part of your life. I am willing to try.”

Try to be a better guardian for you.

Try to accept all of you.

And isn’t that all Rumi can ask for? For Celine to try. Effort comes from a place of love, and she isn’t expecting Celine to change her personality or start liking demons suddenly, but the fact that she is willing to try for Rumi’s sake means something. It means she is worth the effort. It’s a reassurance and declaration on its own.

Rumi weakly nodded. “I want that too. I want you in my life. It hurts, but you’re still my-”

Out of habit, she cut herself off. Trying to find the words when she was just put through such an emotional roller coaster was overwhelming. She couldn’t articulate what Celine was and wasn’t to her, just as she couldn’t stop her tears.

“Oh, Rumi.”

Celine stood from her chair, and for a moment, Rumi was so afraid that she was leaving. She had pushed too much, been too needy, shown too many of her fears, but Celine closed the distance instead. She embraced Rumi, and it was awkward in the way things are when they so rarely happen. Celine had never been one for physical affection, but she was trying.

A gentle melody blanketed them, the same one Celine always comforted her with. Rumi could feel it as much as she heard it- feel how it made the Honmoon faintly thrum and how it hummed through Celine. As it did when she was a child, it made Rumi feel like things were going to be ok. It sounded like safety and home.

The two stayed like that until the dust settled, until Rumi could compose herself enough to reassure her girlfriends they didn’t have to defend her honor. The trio ended up staying for dinner, and Rumi left feeling wrung out yet lighter than before. Mira and Zoey were attentive- quick glances asking, “are you alright?” and lingering touches soothing out any tensions. Rumi was able asleep with a smile on her face and song in her heart surrounded by her loves.

Her and Celine’s renewed relationship was a work in progress, but it gave her hope. It finally felt like something had shifted more into place. Not perfect, but better. Maybe one day, Rumi would even be able to send off an old, forgotten letter.