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They’d just gotten back from the bathhouse, Mira leaving to go pick up the mail with Bobby, leaving Rumi and Zoey to sink into the couch and do nothing. It should’ve been relaxing, and yet…
Rumi feels Zoey’s eyes on her. She’s sitting next to her, cross-legged, writing in one of her notebooks, looking up every now and then to glance at Rumi.
Studying, scrutinizing—the kind of intense focus that makes her skin itch. Just a few weeks ago, Rumi would’ve covered up or fled. Now, she tries her best not to panic, though the old feelings haven’t gone away just yet. Carefully, trying to sound casual, she turns to Zoey to ask.
“Something on your mind?”
Zoey’s eyes snap up, realizing that she’s probably making Rumi uncomfortable. She immediately moves back, but that has Rumi’s lips turn down in barely concealed pain. Carefully, Zoey leans forward, making sure to close her notebook before speaking.
“Well, I was thinking-” Zoey cuts herself off, pausing, trying to find the right words.
“Remember that night?” She doesn’t have to specify more. There’s only one night she could be referring to. “Did you really transform, or was that an illusion?”
There’s a painful silence. Zoey tenses up, afraid she’s pushed too far. Rumi feels her anxiety boil up, fingers curling into the palm of her hand. She swallows, and every part of her feels like running.
Taking a breath, she stays where she is. “Yes. I had a demon claw.” There was more, her patterns covering her skin like monuments to her sins, her eye glowing, pulsing yellow as she’d lost control of herself. But those words didn’t come out.
Zoey flips her notebook back open and quickly scribbles something down. Something about Rumi. Something about her demon side. Why would Zoey need that?
Because she needs to know her enemy. The thought comes unbidden, but Rumi doesn’t flinch. It isn’t true. She knows it isn’t true.
Zoey doesn’t want to hurt her. She’s curious, perhaps the most curious person she’s ever met. And that is why she wants to know. The thought lacks the conviction to drive away her fears completely, but it helps steady her as Zoey asks another question.
“Do you know what caused it? Do you think you could do it again?”
The idea of transforming again is repulsive to her, the claw a horror from her worst nightmares. But Zoey’s voice is one of curiosity, not judgement.
Rumi shakes her head softly. “I don’t really know how it happened. It was just there. And I haven’t seen it since,” she swallows down the memories, “since that night.”
It is clear Zoey has more questions, but she closes her notebook. “Thank you for telling me.”
Rumi nods, not trusting her voice right now. She looks down at the patterns on her arms, feeling the tension crawl through her skin like fire. Would she forever be a monster? Was that a part of her that she’d never be rid of? Could it come out at any moment?
You’re a monster. You can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool yourself.
Then Zoey gently touches her arm, and the voice goes quiet.
“Hey. It is okay not to know. There’s so much I don’t know about… so many things.” Zoey’s voice is soft and warm, and when her fingers touch Rumi’s skin, the anxiety fades away. “But that’s part of the fun; it means we can learn new things.”
Fun? Did Zoey just describe her demonic qualities as fun?
She’d never thought about it that way. And coming from anyone else, she might’ve dismissed the idea. But not Zoey. Zoey, sitting there in her turtle pajamas, looking at her with those big eyes like she’s the most interesting thing in the universe. Like she’s a mystery she gets to solve, rather than a monster to be put down.
Rumi doesn’t know how long she sits there. It feels like the whole world has gone quiet, and she’s afraid that if she makes any sound it’ll break the moment. That she’ll wake up in a world where she has to hide again, that this was all a dream. But Zoey doesn’t go anywhere. And so, neither does she.
Until the loud ding of the elevator breaks the silence, announcing the return of Mira and Bobby with the cart full of mail. Rumi shakes her head, snapping out of her thoughts. Zoey is already climbing over the couch to greet Bobby and see what kind of packages their fans have gotten them.
Thank you. Rumi doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to tell Zoey and Mira just how much they mean to her, but as she gets up to join them, she feels a comfortable warmth in her chest where her fear used to be.
Despite the promise of three months of couch, the girls quickly found that Rumi was worse at doing nothing than even they expected. Sure, now that there were no more imminent threats or markings to hide, Rumi was happy to join them on all kinds of fun trips, from the bathhouse to clothes shopping and even a theme park.
But somehow, just sitting on the couch doing nothing was next to impossible. She had to stay busy. She had to do something.
And so, the trio made their way to the gym taking up much of the penultimate floor of their penthouse. After a brief warm-up on the treadmills, they’d made their way to the mat and summoned their weapons to do some sparring.
There hadn’t been any demon sightings since they had banished Gwi-Ma. Mira had asked, late one night, if the girls believed that they’d defeated the demons for good. They hadn’t made the Honmoon gold, and yet it was stronger than ever. Maybe they’d never have to fight another demon again.
But none of them were ready to believe that quite yet.
It felt weird to be at peace after fighting for so long. The weapon drills came easy, countless hours of practice honing their every move. The weight of her Sain-geom felt comforting in Rumi’s hand as she practiced by herself. On the other side of the mat, Zoey and Mira faced off, their moves as much a dance as a fight.
Rumi took a moment to pause, grabbing her water bottle as she observed the two hunters. Their styles clashed perfectly: Mira’s longer reach had Zoey mostly on the defensive, darting around and looking for an opening to launch one of her Shin-kal. Every time she did, she would pause for just a moment, making sure Mira had an opportunity to duck away. Then, the tempo would resume.
It was a dance that they’d never rehearsed, and yet their motions were so fluid it could rival their best performances on stage. Rumi took a sip of water, a quiet moment of introspection making her grateful she got to see this. Their fans would undoubtedly love to witness a masterpiece like this performance, and yet, Rumi was the only spectator.
Her eyes met Zoey’s, and she stopped to smile. A faint warmth blossomed in Rumi’s chest.
But Mira hadn’t expected Zoey to stop.
The motion was simple, and if Zoey had been paying attention, she would’ve effortlessly dodged it. But instead, Mira has to swerve her strike to avoid hitting the other Hunter. A single line cuts across Zoey’s cheek, and the faintest line of red begins to form.
In the moment that follows, a jet-black claw wraps around the blade of her Gok-do and tears it from her grip, then drops it on the floor.
Rumi’s patterns glow like fire, reds and purples pulsing under the thin shirt she’s wearing. As she turns back to look at Mira, one of her eyes burns yellow.
It is silent for a single heartbeat. Then Rumi realizes what happened, and she panics. “I’m sorry!” she yells, and then she runs off the mat and towards the doors.
Zoey wordlessly reaches up a single hand to her cheek, feeling the drops of blood there. Mira blinks, then turns to see Rumi running out of the gym.
“Rumi, wait!” Zoey starts to run after her, but is pulled to a stop as Mira grabs hold of her wrist, strong enough to hold Zoey in place. She turns to find an explanation, and sees the calm confidence in Mira’s eyes. She doesn’t pull away, and as Mira lets go, Zoey stays where she is.
Mira’s voice is calm but measured. “Why don’t you get that cleaned up?” She nods to her cut. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Zoey wants nothing more than to make sure Rumi is okay, but she also understands what Mira is suggesting. If they both chase after Rumi, it might be overwhelming, crowding. She doesn’t want to leave while Rumi might need her, but she also trusts Mira more than anyone.
“If she-” she swallows, then nods. “-if either of you need anything, you let me know, okay?”
Mira nods, taking a moment to hold Zoey’s eyes. “I will. And thank you, Zoey. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
With that, Zoey goes looking for their first aid kit, while Mira heads to the elevator. At least she has an idea of where Rumi might’ve gone.
The rooftop is quiet save for the noises of the city in the distance. Mira sees Rumi pacing back and forth, clearly distressed. Her demonic features have already receded, though her markings are still visibly agitated.
“Hey.” Rumi’s eyes snap towards Mira as she hears her voice. She stops pacing, and after a brief moment of tension, gives a small nod. Mira takes that as permission to approach.
Rumi’s patterns flicker as Mira gives her a careful smile. Her shoulders are raised and she looks ready to bolt. Mira admires her for staying. She lets the silence stretch, letting Rumi speak first.
“I’m sorry.”
It was always going to start with that. Rumi believes that she’s done something wrong. No, that she is something wrong. And if she can’t hide it, she would apologize for it.
Mira’s expression is unfazed, and she doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at Rumi’s apology. Instead, she waits for her to continue.
“I panicked. I didn’t want to scare you. I was afraid, I just-” Rumi’s voice falters, and she looks so small, so scared. “- I don’t want to hurt you. Either of you.”
For a moment, Mira is silent. Then, carefully, she breaks into a smile. When she speaks, it is with her trademark sass dripping from every word. “That’s funny. I thought that it was my Gok-do that hurt Zoey. Not you.”
Rumi doesn’t answer that. Mira takes a careful step forward, and her next words are filled with the kind of gentleness Mira only rarely shows. “Rumi, you’re not being fair to yourself. I know you’ve spent years, probably decades, worrying about your demon heritage. I know that won’t just go away because we know the truth now, but I want you to try to look at what happened objectively, okay?”
“You saw us slip up and stepped in to protect Zoey from injury. That’s what happened. That’s all that happened. You acted on instinct to protect someone you care about. That doesn’t make you evil in my mind.”
Despite the clear words, she can see that Rumi was still having trouble accepting it. Mira won’t back down. “And if it does in yours, then I am far more evil than you are.”
“What? No, you’re not evil!” Rumi sputtered, confusion clear on her face.
Mira’s next line stopped her cold. “What I did at the Idol Awards was far worse than simply disarming you, Rumi.”
Rumi looks back up at Mira, and there are tears in her eyes. “I threatened you with my weapon. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that. It is the worst thing I’ve ever done to you, and I never want to do it again. But if there’s one reason I can keep going without that moment haunting me every time I look at you, it is because I was following my instinct to protect Zoey. I just wish I could’ve protected you too.”
Rumi’s words feel heavy in her throat. “Mira, I never blamed you.”
“I know.” Mira steps closer, hands reaching out to gently rub Rumi’s arms. “But I do. And just like that, you know what we feel like, don’t you?” There’s a hint of a smile on her face as she pulls Rumi into a hug.
“That’s not fair.” Rumi complains into Mira’s shoulder.
“Now you know how we feel.” Mira retorts. The hug is gentle, letting Rumi slip away if she feels trapped. But she doesn’t.
“We know it is hard to accept this part of you. But Zoey and I already have. We care about you. We trust you. All of you. You’ve never once done anything to betray that trust.”
“How can you say that?” Rumi doesn’t pull away, but her voice is filled with rancor. “I lied to you both for years.”
“You were trying to protect yourself, and you were trying to protect us. Your only fault was trusting Celine. And we’re all equally guilty of that. I know you thought about telling us. I know you wanted nothing more than those walls to come down. And you know how I know that?”
Mira lets go of the hug and pulls back enough so that Rumi could see her smile. “I see it every day, in everything you do. And if we’re not allowed to blame ourselves for not noticing it sooner, for not being there when you needed someone to talk to, then you’re not allowed to blame yourself for keeping it to yourself. Okay?”
Rumi nods, her lip wobbling, blinking away tears. “Okay.”
Mira tries to pull her into an embrace once more, but something about the motion has Rumi flinch in pain. Mira immediately lets go. “What happened?”
Rumi carefully raises her hand, revealing a painful red pattern on the palm of her hand where she had grabbed Mira’s weapon. “I didn’t even notice it until I got up here.”
“My weapon,” Mira inspects the injury, seeing the way the blade’s pattern is burned into Rumi’s skin “it burned you?”
Mira has half a mind to berate Rumi for not mentioning it sooner, but she takes a deep breath. None of this is easy, and at least she did tell her. “Come, I think we have a cool pack in the fridge. And I’m sure Zoey has some cute turtle bandages for you to put on it.”
Mira takes Rumi’s good hand and doesn’t let go. Not when they get in the elevator, not when the ding announces that they’ve reached their floor. Only once they’ve cooled Rumi’s burn under the running sink does she let go, and even then, only to help Zoey put a bandage on her cut.
Rumi watches Mira carefully apply the bandage that Zoey picked out, and in that moment, all she can think is how lucky she is to have Mira in her life, to have both of them in her life.
They care about her. No matter what comes at them, no matter what might happen, they would be by her side.
A little while later, they’ve made their way back to the couch. After a quick shower and changing into their loungewear, the mood is already a lot more relaxed. Rumi’s hand is still sore, but most of the heat is long gone. She’s tempted to turn on the tv when she glances over at Zoey.
She’s holding that notebook again. That notebook. The one about Rumi.
Rumi had transformed again. In front of them. Claw and everything. And yet…
Neither of them had run away or drawn their weapons on her. Instead of fear or loathing, Rumi saw care, concern, and compassion in their eyes.
Maybe Zoey is right. Maybe she could learn more about this. And she didn’t have to do it alone.
“I’m still not sure what caused the transformation.” As soon as she starts talking, both Mira and Zoey turn to look at her. Zoey’s pencil stops dead on the page, then quickly starts writing again.
“I just remember seeing Mira’s Gok-do moving, and feeling scared. Then the next thing I know, I’m holding the blade and pulling it away.”
Rumi pauses, something in her memory stirring. “Feeling. I remember feeling concerned. Worried that Zoey might be hurt.”
“There’s something that Jinu told me, back when we first met.” She pauses. They haven’t really talked about the fate of the Saja boys, and now was not the time to get into that. “I said that demons don’t feel anything, and he said,” she pauses, trying to remember his exact words, “he said that’s all demons do. Feel. Feel their hate. Their shame. That’s how Gwi-Ma controls them.”
Zoey’s pencil is furiously scribbling on the page. “Do you think that was what caused the transformation, then? Feeling?”
Rumi nods slowly. “I know I can’t believe everything that Jinu told me, but I don’t think he was lying about that. And if demons are empowered by their strong emotions…”
“Your own emotions might connect you to your demonic powers.” Zoey finishes. “But without Gwi-Ma, there’s no one else controlling them. They’re still your emotions.”
Rumi’s eyes dart from Zoey to Mira, who wears a smirk screaming, “I told you so.”
The little notebook sits there, in Zoey’s lap, and Rumi’s hands reach out for it before she realizes what she is doing. “I just-” she’s quiet now, scared of the words. But more scared of staying silent. “I just wish I knew more about this. I’ve spent so long hiding it, I feel like I barely know anything about myself. And that terrifies me.”
Zoey moves across the couch until she’s next to Rumi, her hands gently helping her open the notebook to a new page. “Then we’ll help you learn. Together.”
At that cue, Mira approaches from the other side, wrapping one arm around Rumi protectively as she affirms. “Together.”
A single tear escapes Rumi’s eyes, and lands on the page. She doesn’t know what this all means. But she knows she won’t have to face it alone.