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"Are we sure this isn't, like, cultural appropriation?"
"I don't think demons even have a culture," Mira said. "Plus, if they did, it's not like Rumi would be very thrilled to be part of it."
"Yeah, you're right. It's not like she'd have any access to it either, now with the Honmoon sealed... Guess we ruined a family reunion, huh," Zoey mused to herself, to which Mira released a slight snort. "Do we paint under our clothes too?"
"This is supposed to glow in the dark, so let's paint just the exposed parts."
Zoey hummed in agreement as she held up a pocket mirror, tracing lines across her face with a brush, brow scrunched in concentration as she tried to emulate the shapes. To her right, Mira did something similar, carefully painting over one of her legs. The floor of the apartment had been partially covered with cardboard pieces to avoid any stray paint getting on the hardwood, several small pots filled with dark purple ink surrounding them as her and Mira covered their skins with patterns.
Patterns. Like the ones spread across the bodies of every demon they had ever slayed, and recently, like the ones covering Rumi from head to toe. Well, maybe those patterns weren't actually recent, but they felt new for Zoey and Mira. Besides, never before had they spread so far across their friend's body, impossible to cover up and softly glowing with a mix of colors that reminded Zoey of the rainbow.
Oh, and those were apparently visible to normal people now, too. They had all found out after their final battle against Gwi-Ma and the Saja Boys, when Bobby came to check on them that same day. After granting the girls some precious hours to rest, he had barged into their apartment during late afternoon, bringing an equal amount of questions and praise.
"Those special effects were just amazing! I mean, that whole thing with the Saja Boys disappearing and turning to dust? I had no idea you guys were doing a collab — please warn me next time, by the way — but the fans absolutely loved it. Oh, and you absolutely have to tell me how that flying trick at the end works."
"Oh, yeah, definitely a trick..." Mira trailed off, thinly-veiled sarcasm in her tone.
"You know what, Bobby?" Rumi said. "Maybe we should all just cool down for a few weeks, and then we can go back to thinking about our shows, right?"
"Oh, yes, sorry, you guys must be exhausted. You're right, we can think about it again for the Huntrix comeback. Oh, and by the way, Rumi, when did you have the time to paint those markings on your skin? Love the new look."
Suffice to say, they had all been stunned into silence, desperately searching for any excuses that didn't involve revealing an entire supernatural world to their ordinary manager. Bobby had noticed tension, thank goodness, and once again apologized, choosing to let them rest.
Eventually, after much needed discussion, they settled into a story to tell the media. The patterns were supposedly birth marks Rumi had always carried, but hid under layers of make-up and clothes to avoid the scrutiny of the public. However, inspired by the support given by the fans and no longer wanting to hide after the disaster of the Idol Awards, she decided to come clean and expose her most authentic self.
It was close enough to the truth.
And so, there were Mira and Zoey, painting extensive purple patterns across their bodies a week before Huntrix's great comeback, hoping to incorporate the drawings into their final looks for the concert. The media could be ruthless, and if Rumi had to expose her patterns to the world, the two would guarantee she didn't have to do it alone.
If Rumi actually liked the idea, that is, Zoey thought as she helped Mira trace the last lines across her shoulder blades. They were both in shorts and tank tops, now completely covered in patterns from legs to face.
"Alright, I think we're done." Zoey sighed, finally putting the brush down, and looked out the window. The sun had almost completely set in the horizon, covering the world in shadows as night approached. "I didn't think it would take this long."
"Hey, these look pretty cool, though. At least it confirms that the ink really glows," Mira said, inspecting the patterns on her body with intrigue. True to her word, the lines glowed in dark purple as the darkness outside intensified, not rippling with energy as Rumi's patterns had before, but still passable enough for their intentions.
"Besides," she added teasingly, "wasn't this whole thing your idea? Look, don't worry about it. Just think of Rumi's reaction when she sees us."
Zoey perked up, a bright smile pulling at her lips. "Right! We're doing this for Rumi!"
"Damn right, we are," Mira responded with a smile, barely suppressing a laugh at Zoey's enthusiasm. "It should be a while until Rumi's back, so how about we watch a movie?"
"Oh, what about—"
"Let me guess, the two second long turtle videos? We did miss our shot last time, so I owe you this one."
"You know me so well."
Rumi was stressed, to put it simply. Granted, that seemed to be her natural state of being during the last couple of months, if not throughout her whole life (Mira's words, not hers).
After the official announcement of the Huntrix hiatus, most of her time had been dedicated to learning. That is, learning all she had rejected about herself. Freedom to truly confront her inner demons revealed itself under the comforting blanket of peace and time. Honesty came at the harsh cost of self-reflection, but Rumi had decided to follow that path ever since Gwi-ma's defeat, with the Golden Honmoon now shining above as a reminder of their triumph.
Of what had been lost, too.
Time, grieving and a lot of reflection had helped deal with the space left empty in her chest, and yet, Rumi couldn't help to think back on it all.
Celine stepping away from her, wide-eyed in her terror and focused on the Honmoon, on the ground, on anything but Rumi's distorted form. They hadn't spoken yet, since that moment. She couldn't face her just yet, not when the memory had just recently become somewhat bearable.
Jinu gazing back at her, brown eyes softer than ever before as he offered his last apology. The overwhelming power flowing through her veins as his soul ressonated within her sword, mixing courage and sorrow in a bittersweet cacophony. Rumi wondered what it could have been had their paths crossed differently. Her questions were left unanswered, and so, she merely let herself grieve.
There was the Idol Awards, too; the crushing beginning of her spiral. Twisted versions of Mira and Zoey standing beside her, accusing Rumi of being nothing but the mistake she had always tried to hide, etched into her skin like a sentence. The two standing before her, real and heartbroken, with weapons raised in the infinite space between Rumi and the souls she had once made part of her own.
And yet, she tried to learn. To forgive herself, separating what Celine taught her from who she really was; to trust and to let herself be trusted; to let herself be understood; to see her patterns not as damage, but as cracks through which light could flood in.
By her side, against all odds, two anchors stood firm. Mira and Zoey, always perfectly themselves. Ready to wrap Rumi in their arms when the weight of the memories, of who she was seemed to crush her, gently reassuring and capable of seeing beauty in the darkest corners of herself. How Rumi had managed to earn back their trust — their love — was still something she fought to understand.
Ultimately, a conclusion came to light. She had never truly lost it.
So, Rumi learned. Slowly, but surely, with her girls by her side.
Her week, however, truly wasn't contributing to that process thus far. With a sudden bout of nightmares about their battle against Gwi-ma, stress about the upcoming concert, and unexpectedly having to find someplace to house a giant blue tiger and a thieving bird that reminded her way too much of someone, Rumi's mind had been overtaken by doubt.
In days like these, her patterns felt too present, too heavy for her to bear. Reassurance felt like a necessity. That day in particular, though, had her schedule packed to the brim with activities that would keep her away from home. Without any other options, Rumi did what had always worked: she pushed through, and tried to ignore the growing weariness piling somewhere deeper than just her body.
By the time she made it to the apartment, night had fallen alongside a weight on her shoulders, her movements sluggish with exhaustion. Pushing the door open, Rumi made her way inside, a brief question rising in her mind when darkness greeted her as the elevator dinged open. Maybe Mira and Zoey had already gone to their bedrooms, or decided to go out for some reason.
She stepped further into the apartment to head to her room, and then saw it. Two silhouettes stood in the darkness, heads sharply turned in her direction, covered in dark purple patterns from head to toe. In a second, Rumi's sword was grasped tightly in her hand, the other flying to the light switch, and then—
"Woah, woah, hold on! It's just us! God, this worked a little too well." Mira's voice cut through the silence just as the lights went on, an accompanying squeal of surprise harmonizing along in the form of Zoey's startled form.
"What? Why are you covered in— are those just— what?" Rumi fumbled for a moment as she looked at her friends. Both sported the same patterns she had spent years cursing.
"Uhm, it was my idea," Zoey began, hands apologetically raised in surrender. Rumi blinked and quickly put her sword away. "You know, since you're still getting used to your patterns, Mira and I decided we might try having some on ourselves too."
"The media and the fans aren't always kind, we all know that," she continued, lowering her arms and speaking increasingly faster, "so I thought we could incorporate the patterns to our look for the upcoming concert. That way, we could dissuade any negative attention the public might have to you and let them know that Huntrix supports you no matter what, Rumi, patterns and all."
"We can emphasize that your patterns are here to stay," Mira added. Rumi kept gazing at them in shock. "And that whoever tries to hold them against you will have to face all of Huntrix. Zoey and I aren't letting you face this alone. That is... if you're okay with this?" she finished, vaguely gesturing to herself and Zoey.
"I—" Rumi sniffled, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes faster than she could control them. She frantically reached out to wipe them off. "Of course it's okay, that's— I never thought you guys would bear to see me that way. To see the patterns that way, like just another part of me, and not just— just something broken."
She drew in another deep breath, a bright smile spreading like daybreak on her expression. "I love it. I love you guys."
Zoey and Mira smiled back at her, surging forward and simultaneously wrapping Rumi in a hug from both sides. The exhaustion from the day seemed inconsequential. She eagerly returned the touch, tethering herself to that comfort and warmth.
"We love you too. So much," Zoey said, squeezing a little tighter.
"Yeah, you're stuck with us," Mira continued, but a tremble in her voice betrayed the attempt of casualness. "You'll always have a place here. Every single part of you."
Rumi's smile only grew in size. Sunlight flooded in from the cracks, now reflected on all of their bodies, and reached further until it touched the depths of her heart.
Here is where she belonged. In her best or her worst days, always in the warmth of understanding and love from the two souls Rumi had made part of her own.
Later, she would ask them how the process was like, and Zoey would complain about how hard it can be to paint on your dominant hand. Mira would laugh and tell Rumi about how Zoey had to redo the marks on her face at least four times, and Rumi would laugh and hear Zoey's indignant ramble about how Mira had an easier time because of her longer arms. Mira and Zoey would show off their patterns and clean up the mess on the floor while Rumi showered, but still keep the markings on their bodies despite the late hour.
They would bicker and talk all night, and eventually curl up on the couch with the lights off, three sets of patterns glowing in the dark in purple and rainbow-like hues. Rumi would think about their offer, about presenting those patterns in their concert with pride for the world to see, and smile with a softness she was still learning to accept.
She'd fall asleep right there, between her girls, and let the love ease her burdens away with an ease Rumi wished to grow used to.