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Dirt kicks up into a violent cloud, carried away upon the late evening breeze. Rumi kicks off with startling strength, lunging at Celine front on, sword raised in offence. Celine thrusts her training blade straight at her chest. Rumi, slamming a foot down to pivot, another cloud of dust is sent towards her mentor and spraying in an arch around her body as she springs to the side, flipping over the blade on track to land a solid blow. Celine recovers easily, following after her clean dodge with a sideways swipe, the force of the blow was felt even without the whizzing of a wooden blade cutting through air. Rumi skipped backwards, dancing in leaps and jumps to avoid each follow up strike aimed to maim.
Mira and Zoey shared a cautious glance, this was a spar. It was originally supposed to assess where each girl stood within training at that moment, and where to go next. But both girls thought the entire mock fight was very quickly turning into something more than mentor-to-student. It felt personal. It felt dangerous. Neither of them knew whether or not they should step in, or whether or not they could.
Aunt to Niece, blows are traded at a much faster pace then either girl could keep up with. Where Celine shot forward like a bullet, just as fast and twice as deadly. Rumi kept pace with the precision of someone training their entire life, bounding across the field with the grace of a dancer and the precision of a fighter. Despite the bond the trio shared within the Honmoon, bitterness curled deep and ugly within their hearts to be faced with such a daunting skill difference. If even their eyes couldn’t keep up, then how could they ever hope for their bodies to.
It felt overbearing, the weight pressing down on their shoulders. No doubt, a weight Rumi carried twice as heavy for much longer then they had, but watching the way these two moved around each other felt like watching a relentless predator to desperate prey.
Celine struck again and again, letting her blade send streaks of force tearing up grass as they veered away from the packed dirt of the field and towards the outskirts where plush grass grew vibrant. Celine pressed forward again and again and again until Rumi’s body was sagging under the onslaught, a sweat building up on the back of her neck from both the heat of constant movement and the nerves set alight within her stomach, Celine wasn’t backing down despite Rumi’s stuttering breaths.
“Celine- Hang on-” A swing. A thud, the tearing of fabric and the slicing of skin concealed behind a torrent of leaves previously raked in a neat pile to the side, now showering the pair in a gentle cascade. The air froze glacier cold, tension settling between the duo.
Rumi stared up at Celine with a flash of fear, shoulders hiked up to her ears, arms wrapped around her waist where blood began to seep through the fabric and stain her pale skin crimson. And Celine, Celine stood towering before her with an expression widened in disbelief, gaze snapping from Rumi’s open expression, to the way her arms wrapped a protective vice around her midriff, to her own training blade held within her shaking hands. She couldn’t believe what she’d done, as her mind turned hazy and all she could see were the lecherous vines creeping up her niece’s arms, the flash of gold across her pupils, the small tinge of a canine sharpened only slightly more to a point than an average person. Her mind switched to work mode before she could stop herself, attacking again and again until Rumi was completely and utterly overwhelmed.
Rumi, who stood stock still under Celine’s searching expression before watching in real time as it shuttered closed, back to her usual stern mentor shtick. Celine turned, towards the duo of trainees craning their heads over to catch a peak at the action on the opposite side of the estate to them, unsure if they should go to them or wait for their return.
Celine stepped up to block Rumi’s hunched form from their view, easing an arm around to guide Rumi away from them and towards the house. “Girl’s, I’d like you to practice your fluid strike forms for a moment, Rumi and I need to talk.” Her voice carried across to the pair awaiting direction easily despite the distance, and they both nodded with only a slight twinge of concern flashing across their features, their eyes tracking Rumi and Celine as they disappeared into the mansion, turning to give each other pensive looks. “You think she’s in trouble?” Zoey mumbles, voice low enough so only Mira standing right next to her could pick it up, despite the duo now standing alone in the field.
Mira shrugged with a pinched expression. “Mmn. Let’s go.” She brushed the concern away. Her hair trailed after her form as she spun away from the house to step towards the training dummies huddled not far away. “We’ve got a game of catch up to win.”
— — —
Their training continued in constant grueling motion, Rumi was gone for practice the next morning, and no matter how stubborn with their questioning the pair were, Celine refused to elaborate beyond ‘mandatory absence’.
Mira, true to her character, was pissed. The 'nepo princess' missing training that they had to work their asses in was unacceptable. She took it as a slight to her abilities in comparison, and a deep, swirling jealousy settled heavy in her gut.
Zoey, also true to her character, with a repetitive history of pleasing people, chose to instead give her the benefit of the doubt. Celine and Rumi went hard in their spar, trading blows like their lives were on the line. Giving their all into every swing and step and block. She admired the purple haired girl she was destined to work beside, and maybe the sting in her heart when she heard of Rumi’s unexplained absence could be traced back to the gnawing inferiority in her mind, but she refused to turn that disappointment to the girl who’s been training since she could walk.
When Rumi returned that afternoon, the pair instantly noticed the lull to her energy. Her usual prim and proper politeness, the plastic of poise clinging to her limbs like a wire trap had clearly melted away to an image of sluggish dizziness.
The harsh comment on the tip of Mira’s tongue sputtered off into a jumble of words and slack jawed astonishment, Rumi stood beside them before Celine, whose gaze swept over her frame with a strange flash of something across her expression. Zoey felt a nervous sweat line her forehead, her smile wobbling. “We’ll begin with a quick warmup before jumping into spars. I want to test you girls with each other.” She stepped off to the side, dropping the barrel filled with practice weapons before the trio. “Take your pick, I’ll give you ten minutes to stretch your bodies and get a feel for the weapons before we begin. It’s imperative to your abilities as hunters that you girls learn each other's rhythm in a fight, and the best way to learn is to experience.” And so they did. Rumi was quick to snatch up a wooden blade the length of her forearm, dragging herself off to the side to swing in repetitive motions that seemed to send her reeling forward a step with each swing. Mira turned a curious glance to Zoey, who matched her with concern.
Mira took up a polearm, swinging it around in wide arches before nodding to herself, stepping back to allow Zoey free reign over the barrel. She practically dove in, head buried within polished wood and she clattered and clamored in her search. Each weapon she took up felt too heavy in her arms, each swing too tight, not enough fluidity to her moves. She dropped a hatchet to the side and pulled out a set of small daggers, the blades curved into an arch at the ends. They matched her well, not too much weight to slow her lunges, with the added bonus of potential ranged attacks. She skipped away to run through her stretches.
All while Celine stood like a drill sergeant in the backdrop, watching with a steely glint in her eyes. Although her gaze flickered back in frequent intervals to Rumi, no longer was the girl stumbling over her every strike, she hid it well behind practiced forms, but there remained a chip within her edge. The way she was dragging her feet was enough for Celine to keep track of her weary strikes with eagle focus. Enough for both Zoey and Mira to pick up on, that is. The pair were begging to stress over the tension building like a storm cloud in the air around them.
The matches were quick, Celine called them off before they’d done any real amount of anything. It was starting to grate on Mira’s nerves, the way she’d lean slightly more towards Rumi, who stood as still and perfect as a meticulously shaped marble statue at her side. Her eyes stared off into the distance, glazed over and dilated as Celine hovered over her shoulder. “You.” Mira hissed through her teeth, eyes slit into sharp lines. Rumi startled at the acknowledgment, turning her attention away from the distant foliage to Mira’s icy glare, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in confusion. Either Rumi didn’t notice the impending implosion, or deigned to ignore it. Mira was angry either way.
“I want to fight you properly, I don’t think I got a very good read on your body language.” Her plastered smile twisted into a grimace as Rumi nodded with hardly a second thought, let alone a first. Mira snatched her polearm up from the ground, stomping to the small ring they’d drawn for these spar sessions in particular. Zoey stood off to the side, eyes nervously tracking Mira’s stiff posture and tension heavy steps. Rumi was trailing after her, shoulders hunched in half an inch more than usual, her hand holding the grip on her sword trembled like it couldn’t stand the effort of bearing its weight for much longer. Zoey took half a step forward, ready to call for a break, when Celine stepped up instead. Arms folded over her chest like she was about to announce judgment day. “Very well.” Her voice was stiff as she spoke, the tension hiking her shoulders higher the closer the pair got the ring. Zoey couldn’t help but feel her own anxiety rise.
Mira stood before Rumi with a determination set in her gaze, steely eyes locked onto her target that only deepened when Rumi dropped into a brace. Usually, this was the part where tensions raised, where their eyes met and sparks flew. But Rumi’s gaze remained foggy, and her stance was off by a millimeter. Mira’s eye twitched, a sneer crossing her lips. “What, are you underestimating me, princess?” Her jab flew over Rumi’s head spectacularly, and Rumi’s head lolled to the side, confusion creasing her brows. “What…?” She mumbled, and through the daze, her eyes struggled to meet Mira’s, a heavy puff of air left her lips as her shoulders dropped. An expression of disbelief bled through Mira’s irritation, and she used Rumi’s lack of guard to lunge, polearm raised over her shoulder to send a leftward swing rocketing towards Rumi’s hovering arms. Rumi twisted, twirling away before staggering back half a step more than she meant to, struggling to gain her balance past the numbness creeping up her legs. Rumi could feel the heat Celine’s gaze scorched into her back.
Mira continued on, swinging, blocking and pushing until Rumi was dancing tight circles around the border. Her movements were no doubt off, sluggish in a way even a beginner would recognise. The pathetic display fuelled the flame of Mira’s ire like a spark to gasoline. She sent a wide arc towards Rumi's back, the girl turned, her foot skidded in the dirt as she twisted. Rumi misjudged her step, staggered to the side and directly into the force of Mira’s blade. The polearm connected with a thwack that echoed through the air, but all anyone could hear was the pained whine that left Rumi’s mouth, she put in half an effort to reorient herself before toppling to the dirt, her pale grey jumper staining a deep, unmistakable red at an alarming rate. Celine moved before anyone could even think to, quickly scooping Rumi’s sobbing form into her arms and carrying her off to the house without so much as a glance in their direction. Zoey practically scrambled to chase them in, hesitating a mere moment to glance at Mira before shooting off into the house behind them. Mira couldn’t bring herself to move, gaze locked on the bloodied puddle like it would jump out and stab her through the chest should she turn her back.
— — —
That night, Mira lay awake in her bed, the mattress dipped perfectly around her form. In a way, it felt wrong against the stiffness in her body and the turmoil in her mind. Too comfortable. Her hands clenched into fists, stretched outwards, then clenched once again. A repetitive motion that would usually help her calm her racing thoughts. Tonight, it hardly helped at all. She wanted to move, she wanted to get up, storm her way into Rumi’s room and slam the door open, demand answers, demand to know if she's ok. Demand she get better.
After a few more tense minutes of twisting and turning and clenching her hands into fists again and again until crescent dents were pressed into her palms, that's exactly what she did.
She shot out of bed, feet padding across the room and out the door in record time, she practically flew down the hall, ignoring the dull orange light underneath the room across from her own in favour of the door further down. She stood, practically staring holes through the door rather than simply raising her hand and knocking to announce her presence. The door was dark, the wood cold against her palm, no lights shone from inside, but Mira didn’t let that stop her. She needed to see Rumi. Now.
Ever so gently, Mira pushed the door open, a quiet creak floating through the air. Mira glanced into the darkness inside, the glow of the moon outlining the edge of the bed, sheets pressed to a perfect flat surface. Mira’s brow furrowed.
“Mira?” A sleepy voice called out from across the room, Her head swung to the far corner. There was a chair she could only just make out, plush and draped in a soft throw blanket. Rumi sat propped up with a book in her hand, it was too dark to make out the title, but Mira could see the way the leather cover was worn down with love. It was a fairly lengthy book, by the looks of it.
“Is everything ok?” Rumi asked, a worried lilt to her voice, she sat up straight, book set aside on a small circular coffee table as she made to stand. Mira rushed to push her back down by the shoulders, eyes locked to the wound buried under the layers of a hoodie. “Don’t move, shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” Mira’s voice was gruff and harsh, even to her own ears. She couldn’t hide the wince as Rumi leaned away from her touch. “I’m fine, Mira. You should be in bed, too.” Mira could see the playful look in Rumi’s eyes, the glare of the moon framing her face in a gentle hue.
When Mira didn’t respond with her usual snark, Rumi’s playful gaze fell into something more pensive. “It’s not your fault, you didn't know.” She mumbled, sighing out loud as if to dispel the tension clogging the room. “I knew enough!” Mira’s voice was louder than she meant it, and she snuck a quick glance to the open doorway before she moved to click it shut. With her back turned, Mira continued. “I could tell something was wrong… I could tell it was serious.” She huffed, arms crossing over her chest. “I was just so fucking angry, you’re amazing in a fight, and I struggled to keep up in everything we do… I knew something was up and I still pushed you like that.”
Mira cast a sad gaze over her shoulder, meeting Rumi’s attention head on. “I chose not to see your pain, and instead acted like a total ass… I’m sorry.” Her bare foot scuffed at the floor, gaze trailing away from Rumi’s intense expression to instead stare at the glowing stars stuck childishly to the ceiling. Her expression widened in surprise. Rumi seemed to follow her gaze, and an embarrassed flush rose up her cheeks and painted her ears a cherry red.
“I- I insisted on less bed rest.” She mumbles, cheeks puffed up in stubborn ignorance of the teasing smirk playing at Mira’s lips. “Didn’t want a rest at all, really. It was my own stupidity at fault.” Mira scoffed and didn’t even attempt to hide the obnoxious roll of her eyes. “Celine should have forced you to, then. It was reckless of her to allow that.” Mira stated her words like fact, Rumi felt herself shrink under her intensity. “I insisted.” Mira countered, “She should have insisted harder. It was your spar with Celine when you got hurt, right?” Rumi couldn’t meet Mira’s eyes. “You two went hard. She knew how bad the wound was, and still let you skip out on proper rest. She let you spar for fucks sake!” Rumi rushed over to shush her as a door opening and gentle footsteps rang from down the hall. The pair stilled.
The footsteps were quiet, like someone was making an effort to be sneaky and failing miserably. The duo felt their breaths catch as the footsteps paused in front of Rumi’s door. It only took another brief moment before one gentle knock followed. It was quick, hesitant in a way where both girls doubted the person on the other side knew they were even awake. The handle twisted and the door cracked open enough for a head to poke through. It was Zoey. She took in the scene with a critical expression. “You guys are having a sleepover without me?” Her voice was cautious, and her words were obviously an attempt at breaking the ice in a way only Zoey could make endearing. “Can I join?” The pair were quick to usher her inside, the door clicking shut silently behind her.
They found themselves wrapped around each other in bed, Rumi was cushioned within the middle, her body treated like glass in a way that didn’t feel like suffocating guilt. Instead, it felt like silent support in a way that Rumi wasn’t used to. A soft warmth wrapped around her so thoroughly that the sleep that alluded her previously came back with a vengeance, her eyes blinking slowly, pressed against Zoey's chest. Mira was curled around her other side, long limbs bracketing her in bed in a way that didn’t prickle her mind with claustrophobia. But rather, left her chest feeling warm and her mind blank in the best way possible. They’d discuss things further in the morning, but for now, the trio settled into the gentle lull of midnight like they’d done it a million times before.