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The door clicks back into place, propelled by the weight of Rumi’s slumped torso. The muffled sounds of Mira and Zoe retreating to their own rooms echo from behind it. They’ve returned so late that it’s early, and the girls need nothing more than to crash into bed, but Rumi is distracted by the ache in her chest.
She’s exhausted, her body drained from the effort of facing down hordes of demons. She should be happy— ecstatic, even. Huntr/x had won, beating Gwi-Ma, defeating hundreds of demons threatening the lives of thousands of citizens transfixed by the Saja Boys. Even Mira and Zoe had fallen for their delicious illusion and for a moment, Rumi had been truly, entirely alone. Which was something she wasn’t used to anymore. Not since meeting Jinu.
Rumi shakes off the sudden, intrusive memory of Jinu’s face and straightens, shedding pieces of her armor and costume as she crosses toward her closet. She has the terrible feeling that if she stops moving and allows herself to revisit her memories of him, she’ll spend the foreseeable future frozen in grief.
It doesn’t help that somehow Jinu has managed to infiltrate so many aspects of her life. The dark leather suit hanging directly to her left? It still has a tear in the shoulder from her battle with Jinu in the bathhouse. The pajama drawer she’s digging through? It’s missing the pair of pants she tossed after Jinu poked fun at them during their first nighttime rendezvous. The earliest memories are the easiest to confront: back when it was easier to be annoyed by his smirking and quips, rather than amused.
Rumi shuts her drawer, reaching instead for her most oversized t-shirt. When she slips it over her head, she decides it functions well enough as a nightgown and heads back into her bedroom.
Out of the enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkles. Rumi exhales, forcing her body to relax, and when she blinks, the Honmoon shimmers into view, coating the landscape like a technicolor tapestry. The threads trace over her bedroom walls, pulsing beneath her feet as she walks out onto her balcony.
The wind whips at her braid, and goosebumps coat her arms. She crosses them over her chest and stares out at the city— her city. And her people, all safe and sound thanks to Jinu’s sacrifice. Thanks to the gift of his soul. A tear slips down Rumi’s cheek. She understands sacrificing parts of yourself in the name of protecting others. Her entire life, she covered her markings, pushed away friends, all in the name of protecting the stability of the Honmoon. She knows exactly what Jinu was thinking when he gave her his soul— because she would have thought the same thing. That winning the battle against the demons and Gwi Ma was more important than his life. Rumi had always been happy to sacrifice her own well-being in the name of the greater good, and she couldn’t fault Jinu for making that same choice.
But that wouldn’t stop her from missing him. It was odd, how even in the short time they had known each other, he had come to mean so much to her. He made her feel seen and understood, on a level that even the endless love of Zoe and Mira couldn’t match.
Rumi reaches forward, tracing the threads of the Honmoon that curve over her balcony railing. Their current is electric, itching with possibility. A single thought is all it takes to will her sword into existence.
The weight of it in her palm is unfamiliar— heavier, now that Jinu’s soul resides within. She can still feel his presence, like a warm hand on her shoulder. As she stares at the blade, the sheen of its magical glow, sadness crashes over her like a wave. Her face crumples, and she sinks to her knees, her sword coming to rest in her lap.
The Honmoon flares, a rainbow beneath her, reacting to the raw power of her emotion. Its threads begin to bounce, like sound waves careening through space. Rumi barely notices, her eyes squeezed shut, as the lines slip over arms and down her hands, twisting around her sword.
Rumi’s head drops, her voice raspy from tears, “I’m sorry, Jinu.”
Blue light explodes from where the Honmoon touches her sword, beaming out into the darkness of the early morning. Rumi gasps, dropping the blade and scrambling to her feet as the light begins to retract, coalescing into a recognizable outline.
Sizzling, magical energy transforms into a familiar face, and Rumi surges forward—
“Jinu,” she gasps, crashing into his chest, “You’re here. You’re alive!”
She squeezes her arms around him, pinning his to his sides.
“Oof— Rumi, I’m— glad you’re okay,” he manages, smiling wide, “But I would also— love to breathe again.”
Rumi hops back, cheeks flushing. “Yes, duh.”
She takes him in, fully. He looks different than the demon form he occupied when he sacrificed himself, but not completely like his human disguise, either. He looks sort of… like her. The realization sends a thrill through her chest. His body is human, with his normal tousled dark hair and clever eyes, but he has a kaleidoscope of silvery patterns tracing up his neck, across his arms and hands.
“So did it work?” Jinu asks.
“You mean, did we defeat Gwi Ma?” Rumi nods. “Yes.”
“But you still have your marks—”
“I do. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” Rumi tilts her head, challenging him to disagree. “I’m trying out something new. Being honest, with others and myself.”
Jinu nods, a faint smile tracing his lips.
“I really can’t believe you’re alive,” Rumi admits.
“I’m… not quite sure how.” Jinu runs a nervous hand through his hair.
“Maybe the Honmoon—” Rumi hesitates, her gaze skirting away from the intensity of his.
“Maybe the Honmoon…” Jinu prompts, stepping forward, over her sword that still sits on the ground, and into her space. He picks up her hands, cradling them between their bodies, drawing her attention back to him.
“Maybe the Honmoon was listening to me,” Rumi says.
“Listening to you? What were you saying?”
Rumi blows out a breath. “I was wishing for you.”
“For me? I’m so honored,” Jinu teases. He tugs her closer, placing her hands on his chest.
“You’re not allowed to make fun. I just inadvertently saved your life.”
“I don’t get any leeway for saving yours… wait, how long has it been?”
“A few hours… it’s almost dawn.”
Jinu tilts his head. “So I didn’t miss much?”
“Just me, Mira, and Zoe being totally badass.” Rumi shrugs.
“Pshh. I’ve seen all that before,” Jinu says, grinning down at her.
“Don’t pretend you’re tired of it,” Rumi says, pressing closer, almost flush to his chest.
“I could never get tired of you,” Jinu confesses.
Rumi smiles, tilting her head up to take in his face, the care and vulnerability shining in his eyes.
A beat passes as they both pause— and then they move, simultaneously leaning into a kiss. Like everything between them, it’s back and forth. They kiss like they banter, with pace and emotion, trust and passion. For Rumi, kissing Jinu is effortless. When he wraps his arms around her, drawing her even closer, it’s second nature to twine her fingers through his hair, bringing him down to her level, evening the playing field.
Jinu runs a hand across her back, up her arm. He gently pulls away, and Rumi’s eyes flutter open.
“Wow…” Rumi smiles, turning coy, “So much for never getting tired of me.”
“No! No, it’s not that—” Jinu splutters, caught off guard. “This is great. Perfect, even, it’s just—” He runs a thumb over the chilled skin of Rumi’s arm, glances down at her bare legs. “Maybe we should take this inside, where it’s a bit warmer.”
“Worried you’re not hot enough for me?” Rumi asks, attempting to play off the cold air on her legs that she’s suddenly very aware of.
Jinu grins, his charm settling back into place. “Oh, never. But I have a very delicate constitution.” He tugs her toward the balcony door.
Rumi smiles, her sword disappearing back into the Honmoon in a flash of sparks when she walks away. As Jinu opens the door for her and Rumi passes back into her bedroom, she glances over her shoulder at him. The light of dawn creeps over the horizon, silhouetting Jinu in a beautiful golden glow and warming Rumi straight to her core.