Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The shriek cut through the penthouse like shattering glass.

Mira was out the bedroom within a heartbeat, putting out a hand to catch Zoey and keep her from fully shoulder-checking the wall as she slid out of the studio room already angling herself down the same hall as Mira. 

The pair burst out of the hallway, weapons in hand, eyes frantically scanning for Rumi, or demons, or Rumi being hurt by demons. 

What they saw instead registered a fraction of a second later than the similarities between now and then, that night charging back into all three women’s minds like a runaway bullet train. 

Rumi, standing in front of them, glowing purple patterns, one yellow eye, panicked and scared and looking for someone, anyone to tell her it was going to be ok.

The smooth handles of their weapons in their hands, once comforting now cold as ice, pointed right at their oldest, closest friend. 

Mira and Zoey didn’t un-summon their weapons so much as violently throw them away like the handles had burned them. The reason for Rumi’s distress filtered through the panic at last. Her hands, curled up in front of her chest like they had just been burned, patterns on her fingers becoming so dense and dark they looked solid purple, her nails elongated and sharpened into wicked looking claws. 

Zoey and Mira shared a quick look, having a whole conversation in a single moment. Then once more they moved as a unit, but with a different purpose this time. They approached Rumi with steady confidence, even as she seemed to shrink back a bit and choked out a “No…” between panicked, hyperventilating breaths. But the three of them had this discussion already, and Rumi had told them herself (with their help) that if she were ever freaking out about her half-demon nature the best thing they could do is show her that they weren’t scared of her.

That they wouldn’t abandon her. 

So the pair split up, Mira stepping behind Rumi and wrapping her arms gently around her waist and leaning her face into the top of Rumi’s head, shamelessly drinking in the smell of her shampoo. Zoey stepped up to Rumi’s front, carefully reaching out a hand and running her fingers up Rumi’s arm, before entwining their fingers and slowly but insistently pulling the hand away from Rumi’s chest, bringing it up to the side of her face and leaning into it with a content sigh. 

For some amount of time, the trio stood there. Rumi babbled panicked, choppy phrases, about hurting them by accident and self-deprications about herself. Mira and Zoey didn’t move away an inch, Mira rubbing soothing circles into Rumi’s hips with her thumbs while Zoey engaged in one of her favorite pastimes, looking at Rumi like she hung the stars. They would stand here all night, and the next day, and the next after that. However long it took. 

Eventually, Rumi’s words quieted and her breathing leveled out as her panic passed. Mira could feel the change in the silence, it was time to say something. 

“Girl, I love your nails.”

What??? Her mind shouted at her mouth, but the mouth offered no helpful answers. Thankfully, her instinctive, blurted icebreaker seemed to have been just the right choice. Zoey let out an ungraceful “Pffft!”, turning her head to try and muffle her laugh into Rumi’s hand. Even Rumi let out a snort, smile tugging at the corners of her lips involuntarily. 

“Thanks, I just got them done.” She replied, voice a little hoarse and tone a little thin, but unmistakably their girl. 

Zoey raised an eyebrow at her, silent question obvious but non-pressuring. Rumi responded with just as many words, flicking her eyes and subtly nodding her head toward the kitchen counter. Her phone was face-up, still on, next to five deep scratches carved into the solid marble. 

Zoey, the closest, reached her free hand over and grabbed the phone. Mira watched her face as her eyes flicked across the screen, her face dropping into anger and disappointment the longer she speed-read. Eventually, her eyes shot back up to Rumi. “WHAT??” she cried indignantly, Rumi only sighing and nodding in response. Zoey let out a string of English curse words as she turned the phone screen around so Mira could read it herself. 

An email, sent to all three of them, Rumi just happened to see it first. (A quiet, animal part of Mira hissed and spat, wishing she could have seen it first, could have eased the blow and saved Rumi some of the pain. Mira picked that voice apart. Rumi didn’t need to be saved). The executives at the Sunlight Group company had reached a decision, and like so many decisions made by executives, it was a bad one. In the name of “Maximizing profits”, Huntr/x would have to cut 3% of their staff, the innocuous single digit equating to hundreds of people who would be laid off and out of a job. Celine had been outvoted. She and Bobby were going to try and massage the rest of them, but she warned the trio that they should prepare to start making some hard calls. The girls had taken pride in hiring people that, while still qualified, had been overlooked for unfair reasons and had struggled to find work. While being able to put Huntr/x’s name on a resume would be nothing to sneeze at, it still left a sour feeling in their stomachs. 

“Fuckers!” Mina added her own emphatic swear to the tail end of Zoey’s. Her fingers dug into Rumi’s hips at the injustice of it, and thankfully Rumi didn’t take it the wrong way, just nodding her agreement once more. “What do we do?” 

“We take a paycut ourselves?” Zoey suggested. It was a quick, easy, dirty solution. Everyone knew the execs didn’t really care where the money came from, so that would probably appease them for now. But it wasn’t a perfect solution. 

“Slippery slope.” Mira muttered into Rumi’s hair.

“Last resort.” Rumi agreed. 

Zoey grumbled into Rumi’s palm, but still nodded her agreement. 

The trio lapsed into silence, all three minds running down different tracks to try and solve this new problem. Mira pulled away from Rumi’s back, but kept one hand on her hip and used it to guide her (and by hand-holding extension Zoey) over to the couch. Rumi and Mira dropped down next to each other, Rumi immediately leaning into Mira’s side. Zoey sat down perpendicular to and away from the pair, confusing them for a split second until she then flopped backwards, laying across their laps like a giant, satisfied cat. 

“That cannot be comfortable.” Mira said, faint smile betraying her deadpan tone. Since the jig was already up, she decided to start petting Zoey’s hair too. 

“Derpy seems to enjoy it.” Zoey shot back, cheeky smile on her face.

“I’m not sure Derpy isn’t part liquid.” 

“Hey guys? I, uh, I have claws.” Rumi cut into their banter, faraway look back in her eyes. 

“Had.” Zoey corrected, groping blindly with a hand until it found Rumi’s arm, and tracked it down. Holding it up above her body by the wrist, all three women saw a totally normal human hand, save the finest of Rumi’s patterns tracing up and around the digits, the longest ending just after the middle knuckle on her middle finger. 

“Oh. Well, that’s one problem solved.”

“Not a problem.” Mira firmly, bluntly interjected.

“Definitely not a problem. Hot girlfriend with claws? We won the lottery!” Zoey cheered, throwing up her hands and just barely avoiding clipping Mira in the face. “The only problem would have been if you weren’t able to make them go away. It would have made it really hard to-”

“Not the time.” Mira cut her off, covering Zoey’s mouth with one of her hands. Though she could tell from the answering confident smirk under her palm that both of them enjoyed seeing Rumi (and her patterns) flush a deep embarrassed red. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like how we’re going to get those moneyhungry assholes to back off our staff.” 

“Right!” The determination in Zoey’s voice was slightly muted by the hand covering her mouth, so Mira decided to show mercy and uncover it. 

“Together?” Rumi asked, quietly. Hopefully.

“Of course.” 

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And both Mira and Zoey were relieved to see a big, genuine smile spread across Rumi’s face.

Chapter Text

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

Mira kept up the easy 4/4 rhythm, rubber ball bouncing once off the wall, once off the floor, back into her hand, and then waiting for a half-beat before throwing the ball again with the other half. She let her mind wander through some solo choreography as she did, her own imagined fluid motions passing through her mind in time with the beat as her eyes gazed out the window without really seeing anything. 

She was alone in the penthouse today, Zoey and Rumi out at an elementary school for a charity event, singing with little kids. It sounded adorable and chaotic, Mira chuckled to herself as she pictured an army of little brats trying to climb Rumi’s braid like the rope in gym class. Bobby promised her plenty of photos. 

She was more than ready to go too, but there always seemed to be a reason for the school board to deny her.

Well, it’s a choir group, there’s no choreography involved. Mira sings too you know.

We won’t be able to afford to book all three of you. It’s a charity event, no charge.

It didn’t take long for the excuses to get petty and silly, until finally they had to just come out and say the truth.

We don’t want her…influencing our students.

[black sheep black sheep black sheep-]

The indignation of her girls (and Bobby) was legendary, and they were halfway through a VERY strongly worded cancellation letter before Mira had stopped them. Yeah it stung, but they didn’t need to punish the kids just because the adults were assholes. The trio had already received a picture of the kids holding a heart-meltingly cute handmade “Welcome Huntr/x!” sign that had gotten “Aaawww” from everyone who saw it. It soured the experience a bit that they would have to fib and say Mira was on bedrest for that day, and it soured the experience a lot that it felt like they were caving to these PTA jerks, but sometimes you had to swallow it and do the mature thing. 

(That, and Bobby had already reworded and triple-enforced in their future agreements that Huntr/x was a package deal from now on, three or nothing)

So here Mira sat, still ticked that she was being pushed out by pearl-clutching jerks but trying to make the best of it. 

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

thock! “Ow!”

Mira’s head snapped to the side, shock and confusion briefly paralyzing her thoughts. There, rubbing her head where a rubber ball had just bounced off it, was Rumi. 

Somehow. 

“Wh- what-” Mira was at a loss for words as she practically leapt up and crossed the space to Rumi in a few long steps. “When did you get here?”

“Uh, just now.” Rumi said, and her sheepish smile made Mira pause. 

“I didn’t even hear the door.”

“Uhh-”

“And you have-” she checked her watch “three more hours on the charity event.”

“Right…”

“And where is Zoey??”

 As if on cue, Rumi felt her phone buzz at the same time she heard Rumi’s vibrate in her pocket. Grabbing hers, she was unsurprised to see Zoey’s name starting a video call between the three of them. Mira leveled one of her most unimpressed looks at Rumi, who was beet red and refusing to make eye contact. 

Mira answered the call. 

“Mira! Rumi is missing!” Zoey’s distressed voice tore through the speakers the second the call had connected. Mira returned her unimpressed look to Rumi, who winced and scrambled around behind Mira so she would show up in the video feed to Zoey. 

“Zoey, Zoey! It’s ok, I’m ok! I’m sorry I just disappeared like that.” 

Zoey didn’t reply for a moment, mouth slightly open in shock as the gears turned in her mind. “Wha-but you were just behind me! The penthouse is an hour away!” 

“About that…” Rumi trailed off, eyes becoming glassy and unfocused as she apparently zoned out mid sentence. Mira was just about to ask if she was ok, when she pffed away in a cloud of blue smoke, and suddenly she was standing beside Zoey. 

“Holy-!” Zoey jumped back slightly, eyes snapping to Rumi. Mira couldn’t blame her, she probably would have done the same thing if she had been looking when Rumi had-

“Teleporting! You can teleport??” Zoey shouted, letting Mira infer they were at least alone in whatever room they had ducked into for a breather. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Rumi ducked her head apologetically. “We were just talking about how much we missed Mira, and then, you know…” Rumi began not-so-sneakily sneaking closer to Zoey, puppydog eyes cranked to the max. Mira smirked to herself at the display.

“Mmmm. I can’t be mad about that, I probably would have done the same.” Zoey huffed, dramatically jutting out her cheek to the still mock-stalking Rumi. Rumi brightened immediately, punching the rest of the way forward and peppering Zoey’s face with kisses and wrapping her arms around Zoey’s shoulders. Zoey could only hold her faux-aloof face for a few moments before breaking down into giggles. Mira felt a warmth bloom in her chest and let it spread to her face, there wasn’t a reason to hide it from her girls. 

“By the way, you don’t seem all that surprised by this new demon power Rumi.” Mira pointed out lightly. 

Rumi froze mid-kiss, guilty look back on her face. “I kind of…already knew I could?”

“Really?” Zoey twisted in Rumi’s arms to face her.

“I only did it once before today. It was before Gwi-Ma.”

“What happened?” 

“That’s a…heavy story. I’ll tell you, but back when we’re all home together.” Rumi’s eyes got heavier, and the mood simmered down with them. Everything after the Idol Awards and before Gwi-Ma was heavy territory.

“Ooh, could you bring me to Mira?” Zoey perked up, a new limit test of Rumi’s powers successfully steering the conversation in a new direction. 

“Ah, better not.” Mira cut in. “If she can only teleport between you and me, and she brings you TO me, then…” Mira trailed off, making a vague hand gesture to finish the thought. 

“Right. No one here to finish the event. We should probably get back to that actually too, Bobby can only stall for so long.” Rumi pursed her lips as Zoey nodded, and the two refocused on Mira. Her absence hung between them like gravity just increased, pulling them down. 

“Go, have fun, make those kid’s lives.” Mira said, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. It wasn’t perfect, but that’s how it was sometimes. 

“We’ll be back soon. Mwah!” Zoey duck-faced the camera in an over-exaggerated blown kiss, one Mira mimed catching and pulling to her chest. Rumi was about to do the same, but paused, and Mira watched a devilish smile spread across her face. She had barely opened her mouth to form the word “What-” when, in a blue puff of smoke, Rumi was gone. She felt real, warm lips pressed against her cheek, and had just enough time to watch Zoey’s face morph into an affronted gasp and see Rumi's face pressed against hers in the front facing camera of the video call before Rumi was back on the other side of the screen, perfect picture of cherubic innocence. 

“No fair!” Zoey cried, lightly pounding her fists against Rumi’s shoulder. “I get to kiss Mira twice when we get back!” 

“Kissing Mira is not a finite resource.” Mira said dryly, but not even attempting to hide the smile on her face. “There’s plenty of kissing Mira to go around.” 

Zoey froze, and she and Rumi shared a look that made Mira’s blood (and face) heat up. “Promise?” Zoey purred. 

“You are in an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. GOODBYE.” Mira said with finality. Zoey and Rumi had just enough time to call out a synchronized “Love you!” before her thumb hit the End Call button. 

The sudden quiet of the penthouse was slightly jarring, but Mira was left feeling mostly warmer after her call with her girls. She didn’t stop herself from smiling as she bent down to retrieve the rubber ball and returned to her spot on the couch, choreography daydreams flowing back in but this time she couldn’t help but invite her girls into the dance. 

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

thump - thump - smack - shh(throw)

Chapter Text

Zoey split her gaze between the map pulled up on her smartwatch and the rooftops they were running across, an absolutely terrible idea unless you were a badass Hunter with over a decade of training and practice under your belt. 

Which is why when her foot snagged on a broken chunk of concrete, she quickly turned the impending fall into a forward roll and didn’t break her forward momentum OR her ankle. 

“Almost there, 50 more meters!” She called out to her partners, only a half step behind her not by any physical differences, but just because she knew where she was going. 

Not for the first time, Zoey silently considered how Hunters of old had done it, and allowed that feeling to transfer into an appreciation of modern technology. Nowadays Celine could have dozens of social media scrapers checking for any mentions/photos of demons, cross-reference them to confirm they’re actual demons and not a popup store stunt, send the location of the geotagged posts to Huntr/x, and then scrub them so the panic didn’t spread, all pre-programmed and without having to lift a finger. A nightmarish violation of privacy for sure, but if the Hunters could get a piggyback ride from Big Brother in order to save more lives faster, they would swallow that bitter pill. 

What had they done in decades passed Zoey wondered. Did they have some kind of magic that technology naturally phased out? Did they have nothing, and just have to run in the direction of cries of terror and try to stop the losses that had already come? Put a band-aid over a wound instead of stopping the injury in the first place? How many disasters did they run to that weren’t demons, and had to help as best they could anyway because that was who they were? Were previous Hunters expert firefighters, EMTs, detectives, and more? 

Zoey’s foot landed on something with give, something that bent and snapped and hissed at her as she drove it into the ground. Ah, we’re here. She stowed the historical musing for later contemplation, switching back into fight mode. With barely a thought her shin-kal were in her hands, and she could feel just as much as see her girls landing right in front of her, weapons already summoned and ready. 

A terse moment passes, a staredown done more out of habit than anything else. Some demons like to trash talk them, goading and barking in frankly very un-creative ways, but letting them have that was the least Huntr/x could do for them before the asskicking they were about to impart upon them. But this group of demons was silent, simply staring back at them, cocky smirks and arrogant gleams in their eyes. 

The moment passed. Claws glinted and blades flashed. Game on.

The thing about fighting was that, at least in the very beginning, there were some choices and methods that were simply the most optimal, and those were important when you REALLY didn’t want to die. Mira in the front, the long reach and large swinging arcs of her gok-do providing the best defense of the three. Rumi in the middle, the versatility of her saingeom able to fill in anywhere that might be lacking. Zoey in the back, her pinpoint aim and only weapon with a strong range capability making her the best choice to bring up the rear. 

Of course, that wasn’t the only dance Huntr/x knew. The unpredictable nature of their enemies and chaotic nature of their fights meant they had to be ready to take up any formation. Sometimes Mira would be in the middle or back, stabbing her polearm between Rumi and/or Zoey with the speed and grace of a mother lovingly patching the clothes of their adventurer child. Sometimes Zoey would be in the front, the sacrifice of range granting her unparalleled slashing and stabbing speed. And that was all nothing to say when the fight spread out, and a pair of them found themselves back-to-back while one fought solo.  

All of this to say that Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were no strangers to fighting. 

But the demons had their own tricks too. 

Ironically, they seemed to be best suited to sneak attacks and ambushes. The ability to disguise themselves perfectly as humans (at least in look if not mannerism) meant they could very easily go undetected and catch the girls by surprise and possibly even kill one or all of them, but they all seemed to be too arrogant, revealing themselves far too early and throwing away their advantage. 

But, in extremely rare cases, even that arrogance could be a weapon. An invasive seed blooming a flower of complacence. Because if you fight 99 guys who all claim they’re hot shit, and all get folded like tissue paper, you don’t expect 100 to be any different. 

Zoey felt the little twitch in the back of her mind before her consciousness caught up, but she thinks fast. One of her strongest weapons. 

9 total. 3 down. 2 with Mira. 2 with Rumi. 1 here. 

Where was number 9?

The prickle in the back of her neck was suddenly stabbing into her brain stem. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, one demon lost in the shuffle happened all the time, a runner they had to chase down. But she hadn’t heard the telltale signs of panicked footsteps or the environmental signs signalling a hasty retreat. 

Time seemed to slow as her brain screamed into high gear, begging and dragging her body to follow. Her gaze craned slowly from where she had just kicked her demon into the wall hard enough to crack brick, towards the one place where no one was looking. The passing seconds clicking by like the spinning cylinder of a revolver. Her arm came up, already locked into another throw. The demon was floating a foot off the ground, eyes rolled back in their head, patterns jet black. That was different. Too different. Bad different. 

Her arm swung down. She felt the instinctive training, the millimeter-adjustment of her grip that let the blade’s handle slip out without even needing to open her hand. 

When the last bit of contact slipped out of her grasp, time crashed back into full speed. “Shit!” She shouted, the “this is really bad” kind of shout that had Rumi and Mira looking over in alarm, just in time to see a sphere of darkness expand out from the demon, fast as an explosion but with none of the bombastic energy. It was perfect in a cold and definitive way, with no sound or feel but still sending a bolt of ice down Zoey’s spine as it passed over her. 

Everything changed in an instant. The girls had excellent night vision, but this was different. This darkness was encompassing, total, unrelentingly magical. The only faint light was her shin-kal, no brighter than dead glowsticks. 

She felt a searing pain in her side as something thudded into her ribs. It didn’t break the skin, but being unable to predict the blow made it hurt ten times worse. She couldn’t help but cry out and stumble back, frantically swinging her blades even as she felt a deep embarrassment for how she must look to the demons now, flailing her blades like a child. Behind her, she heard Mira gasp in a heart-twisting way, the only thing louder in her ears was the blood-boiling howls of laughter from the demons. 

Once again, something got snagged in the flow of her thoughts. One gasp. Before the thought even had a chance to unfold, it was answered by a familiar hand on her shoulder and her name in the air. The hand tugged her back insistently and she followed, the trust in that hand re-carved into her bones, only made stronger by being purposely and deliberately re-etched after hurt and betrayal had sanded it clean. 

She tripped and stumbled along, following where she was led and being carefully but insistently pushed down into a crouch, something solid at her back as cover. 

“Are you guys ok? What happened?” Rumi’s voice cutting through the dark. There had been days long past where “What happened” was said with accusation, but now it was only concern. 

“Wh-what happened? What do you mean what happened?” Mira’s voice said from her left, and now that she focused she could confirm it with the glow of Mira’s blade. But there was no glow from Rumi’s.

One hand for me. One for Mira. None for sword. How did she find us? Why is she confused? The questions all pointed to several answers , but there was only one that satisfied them all.

Zoey could hear Rumi’s inhale to answer Mira, but she interrupted it with a hand, clumsily swinging up and cupping around Rumi’s jaw. Whatever words she was about to say died on her lips, replaced by a confused “Zoey?” 

“Hold still.” Was Zoey’s only reply. She traced her fingers up Rumi’s cheek until they found a position she remembered in her soul, and saw in her mind’s eye the entirety of Rumi’s face. Using that well-explored map, she brought one of her shin-kal up to rest the sharp of the blade against Rumi’s forehead like a sun visor, and with it her answer was confirmed. Rumi’s eyes looked back at her, and thought the glow of her weapon was blue, there was no mistaking the golden, familiar color of both of Rumi’s irises.

“Oh.” Mira said softly.

“Rumi, Mira and I can’t see, that demon used some sort of magic. It’s pitch black.” Zoey was struck by how she and Mira must have looked to Rumi, eyes glazed over and poses constantly shifting to keep their balance without visual input. She imagines how silly it would look in any other circumstance, and how terrifying it must look now. 

“You can really still see?” Mira asked, not accusatory but surprised. 

Rumi nodded before catching herself. “Yes.” 

“So, what now? You go out there to fight them alone?” Mira asked, bringing Zoey back to the task at hand. There were still six demons out there that needed to be dealt with somehow, letting them go was not an option. Mira’s voiced suggestion wasn’t pleasant, but it was the most reasonable choice. One v. six wasn’t a good position to be in, but it was better than one v. six plus two flailing teammates more likely to do more harm than good. It was the best choice in this situation. 

But it still left a curdled feeling in her gut. One she could see mirrored in Rumi’s golden eyes. They shifted back and forth, thinking through all their options, reworking and recombining and planning and scrapping. 

Then Zoey saw it. The moment Rumi made her decision. Her eyes shifted, the light the same even behind a new color. Not the confidence of knowing you’ve solved a puzzle and just need to execute the steps, but the determination of deciding the answer you’ve chosen WILL work, even if you have to bend and break and reform the puzzle until it does. 

“No.” Rumi’s voice was flat, allowing no argument not from Zoey and Mira but from the universe itself. “Rule one. No Hunters fight alone.” 

“Well then what do we do?” Mira’s voice again, tight and clipped with anxiety and helplessness. Zoey sees Rumi take it in and let it go, forgiving the sharp tone and understanding its cause in the same heartbeat. 

“We change up the dance.” Rumi replied. “How’s your one handed technique?” 

“...I haven’t used it in a fight in a while, but I keep in practice.” Mira replied carefully. 

Rumi turned to Zoey, same question in her eyes, not even needing to ask it out loud before getting Zoey’s excited grin and nod in response. Was this way more dangerous than Rumi going alone? Almost certainly. But boy was it going to be fun. She saw the look in Rumi’s eyes shift again, dropping into the confident mischief she so rarely got to let out, far too busy being the leader to be allowed the chance to have fun.

“Looks like I get to take a crack at choreographing a dance.” With a little bit of shuffling, Zoey felt Rumi’s right hand slide into hers, and bet Mira was feeling her left entwining her fingers. It was a familiar feeling with how often stood like this, side by side in front of the camera flash, in front of the crowd, against the demons. 

Zoey wasn’t a fool, she knew this plan was borderline madness. Trying to fight against enemies who could see using nothing but the motions and words of one person in place of her eyes was almost invariably doomed to fail. But she knew, in the same way she was 100% confident that Mira and Rumi knew, that this wasn’t about sense. She had felt that wordless conversation. Everything changed in an instant. This was about proving that their bond was strong, stronger now for having all but snapped in the all too recent past. They wanted to, needed to, look these demons in the eye. The past versions of themselves in the eye. Everyone who’s ever tried to push them down, make them small in the eye. And say no, you can’t do this to me. You don’t have the strength to do this to me, because it’s not just me. It’s us, all of us together. Moving as one. Standing as one. 

Of course, there was sweat and blood and grit where their ideology met reality, but they were ready for it. All three of them knew that this was going to be a challenge, that even with Zoey and Mira finding perfect flow and allowing every spin and turn and pull and thrust from Rumi to echo through them like a perfect mirror, that this was going to be somewhat inelegant. Their well-oiled machine forced to run at a different time signature, this dirty trick from the demons earning them more sweat on the girl’s brows than they were worth.

But now, in the perfect swirling combination of darkness and motion, Zoey found it easy for her mind to wander back to the past. This felt so similar to when their machine wasn’t so well-oiled, when she and Rumi and Mira dealt out as many accidental elbows to the ribs or stepped on toes as they received. She even giggled a little at the memory or Mira nearly breaking her nose with the butt of her gok-do. 

She felt that same friction here, felt the swings that she knew were misses, even as she felt the whole new style of fighting flow through her veins. She felt when Rumi swung her backwards to give Mira more power in her swing, felt when the hand in hers eased up on the pressure by just a hair, signalling to let her blade go and summon another instead of hold it in preparation for the next swing. On occasion she could even feel the breeze from Mira’s body as it swung past hers in their orbit around Rumi.

In the dark like this there wasn’t much else to do but feel. 

And then, just like that, it was over. The return of the light was even more jarring than the spreading of the darkness. There was no noise, no readjusting of their eyes, no easing back into it. The sudden return of the neon and LED lights stabbed into Zoey’s eyes like hot pokers. She winced, squinted, and brought up a hand to shield her eyes even as she looked forward for demons, scanning for threats. 

What she saw instead was one demon, the one that caused the darkness, standing there with one of her blades buried up to the hilt in their chest. They had time for one last look of surprise before scattering into sparkling particles. 

The trio stood for a moment, reorienting themselves to the familiar and normal. The return of the world after its brief time behind the curtain. 

“Holy shit.” Mira muttered more to herself than either of them, voice dripping with shock and disbelief and breathless fun.

Instead of using her words, Rumi chose to maneuver them one last time, bringing them together in front of her. Zoey and Mira reflexively unsummoned their weapons and wrapped their arms around each other, catching their bodies and lessening the impact. Before they could turn and ask, Rumi collided with them, burying her face in the spot where their shoulders met, wrapping her arms around both of them and pulling them both closer together and to her. A long explosive sigh filled with almost every emotion Zoey could think of leaked out of her, ending in the breathless words “So how’d I do, lead choreographer?” 

“Mmm. Pretty good.” Mira answered with a playfully thin layer of faux-discernment. “We may just make a Kpop star out of you yet.” A smirk played across her lips at Rumi’s slightly-manic laugh. “Something tells me we may want to start training with blindfolds though.”

“Oh gods, please don’t make me think about training right now.” Zoey’s hug turned more into a slump, one which Mira and Rumi easily supported. “Can we just go home for now? That was awesome but also I’m super drained.”

“Seconded.” “Agreed.” Mira and Rumi replied in tandem. “Think you can take us back the fast way?” Mira added, glancing at Rumi. 

“Yeah, I think I can swing that.” And with a last smile and a puff of blue, the trio disappeared from their makeshift arena like they had never been there at all.

Chapter Text

“Zoey.”

“Come on, just a bit?”

“Zoey.”

“Just a tiiiny little bit?”

“Zoey!” 

“It doesn’t have to be too deep! Just enough to stay embedded in my skin forever!”

“You need a cold shower!”

“Promise to join me?”

“Good gods Zoey!” 

“I hear intense voices, what’s goooo…”

“Mira! Yes, thank you! Tell Zoey that these fangs are a serious deal!”

“Oh Rumi baby, that’s not why she’s so quiet.”

“Wha- Mira, not you too!” 

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“I’m not going to bite you! Either of you!”

“So you literally hate us??”

“These fa- don’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry.”

“These fangs aren’t like tiny little vampire fangs in movies, they have to be at least an inch long, maybe two!” 

“Rumi we’re already interested, you don’t have to sell us on it harder.”

“I could seriously hurt you!”

“You figured out how to use the claws just fine.”

“That’s…those are different.”

“Are they? Start with a nibble and work your way up, we’d be more than happy to sit still for you.”

“Now you’re talking like I’m some sort of teething baby.”

“I mean, are you? In the demon sense at least? Do they ache or hurt or anything?”

“...they ache a little.”

“See! There you go. Here, just gnaw on my arm a bit, I bet it’ll help.”

“Why would biting you help?” 

“They’re demon fangs, I bet they cut their teeth on human femurs or something, but since you’re obviously not gonna do that this is the next best thing. Besides, I bet you’ve had the urge this whole time and have just been resisting it because you’re worried.”

“...”

“...”

“I hate it when you’re right at my expense.”

“Don’t worry sweetie. It’ll only happen a lot more for the rest of our lives. Now get over here and lay ‘em on me.”

“Fine. But not the neck or near anything vital!”

“Deal.”

“I’m going next.”

“Of course you’re going next Mira, there’s no one else here. Unless Rumi just bit herself.”

“...” 

“Oh no no no! You already promised, don’t take this from us Rumi!” 

“Alright, alright. Just…hold still…” 

Chapter Text

Zoey hummed cheerfully, swinging both sets of hands clasped in hers and practically skipped down the street. Mira and Rumi were on either side of her, more subdued in their walking but unashamedly enjoying Zoey’s excitement. It was Zoey’s turn to pick the date night, so that meant the trio were once again on their way to the aquarium. Mira and Rumi certainly enjoyed the aquarium, but Zoey was on a whole different level. She would pinball between the exhibit signs, eyes flashing frantically across the words like a dying man in the desert coming across an oasis, and pressing her face against the glass like she was trying to phase through it and start swimming with the fishes herself. They would, of course, spend the largest amount of time near any tank where turtles were present, and certainly be leaving the gift shop with a fresh round of plushies/stickers/magnets/calendars/posters/whatever the trio could fit in their arms. It was the one time Zoey seemed to outperform Rumi’s enhanced strength. 

Looking back on this night over the next few days, each girl would hold themselves responsible. Zoey would think “If only I hadn’t been so loud, so visible in public.” Mira, “I should have been more observant, more ready.” And Rumi, “If only I had been anyone else.” 

“Oh my gosh, Huntr/x!” The voice stopped the trio dead in their tracks. They turned, carefully assessing. One man, big sparkly fan eyes, wearing a minimalist Huntr/x hoodie. The rest of the street was clear this late into the evening, so the trio shifted into Fan Mode. It wouldn’t take that long, and they were always happy to make someone’s day. 

“Hey.” Mira started off, cool and aloof public persona sliding in place easily. Zoey matched the fan’s excited smile, and Rumi donned a more confident and cocky one of her own. The personas weren’t lies, more simplifications. Mira’s snorting giggles, Zoey’s unglamorous hyperfocus, Rumi’s dorky ramblings were kept private, just for the three of them and extremely close friends. 

“Oh my god, I’m like your biggest fan! Can I get a photo with Rumi!” The fan unzipped a camera bag, holding out a nice looking camera with excitedly shaking hands. 

A tourist then. Mira thought, taking the camera as Rumi got in position next to him. The fan looked like they were going for a more casual pose, one hand in the hoodie pocket and the other throwing up a peace sign, so Rumi mirrored it, leaning her weight casually on one foot while throwing up her own peace sign. Zoey leaned around Mira’s side, using her maknae privileges to excuse getting a bit too close, gazing into the viewfinder screen as she lined up the shot. 

BANG!

The noise was sharp and unexpected in Rumi’s ears, and coupled with the blinding light of the flash it made her instinctively throw up an arm in front of her face and fall back a step. As she blinked away the spots in her vision, her eyes landed on something that made her heart drop cold and hard like an iceberg into her stomach. 

Fragments of the camera thrown across the ground. Mira and Zoey, lying on the ground, eyes open. Not moving. Blood leaking out of the spots in their faces, in their eyes, where shards of the camera had embedded themselves. Pooling on the pavement. 

The ringing in her ears didn’t seem to fade. If anything, it got louder. Each second seemed to crawl by like an hour in a waiting room. She was aware, vaguely, of the fan babbling beside her, but the words that penetrated into her consciousness were “-finally-” and “-n’t believe I got both-” and “-e together now Rumi!” 

She turned to face him, stony as a gargoyle. For a half second, she waited. She waited for the disguise to drop, for the demon face to smile back at her. But it never would, she realized. He wasn’t a demon, just a fanatic capable of…

of…

MURDER

Rumi’s hand shot out, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pushing him into a wall. The cold fury burning underneath Rumi’s skin wasn’t stopping, or slowing down. She could feel it fueling her demonic traits like an ember falling into a pile of dry hay. She watched the fanatic’s face fall as hers shifted, teeth elongating. Her nails sharpened and extended, shredding the fabric clenched within them. Her vision clarified, and she could feel the demonic power coursing through her veins, ten thousand times more potent than adrenaline. She had never transformed all her features like this at once, and she could feel that it wasn’t done. She could feel sharp pain in her temples, could feel bone breaking and skin tearing as a pair of horns, dripping her own blood, sprouted out of her head like growing bamboo played in fast-forward. Some part of her knew, felt intuitively that this was different from any other demonic change to her body that had happened so far. These horns couldn’t be withdrawn, tamed. They were her own bones, grown sharp and wicked, fed by the howling hatred in her mind that said the fanatic trembling beneath her claws needed to PAY. To SUFFER. To DIE. To return what he had TAKEN from her.

Her claws dug further into his chest, puncturing the skin. Blood began to seep into the material of the hoodie, as if her claws had been dipped in ink and allowed to rest on a page. The fanatic winced, but seemed too paralyzed to cry out, or speak, or do anything beyond gaze up in horror at the figure towering above him. 

Rumi felt the hurricane of rage and pain and sorrow in her chest reaching out along her arm, the one holding the fanatic against the wall, and she let it. She encouraged it. She watched as a rolling twisting wave of deep red and magenta and black rolled down the patterns on her arm, past her elbow, into her fingers and out her fingertips, penetrating the fanatic’s body through her claws like a poison through a needle. There was no physical sound, but Rumi was positive the fanatic could hear the roaring of the storm in his soul. 

The storm began to withdraw back into her, the negative pressure pulling something along with it. Rumi saw a pale blue light under her palm, watched as it leeched into her hand and flowed up into her arm, faint blue quickly lost and eclipsed in the sea of blood red and black. The Honmoon trembled around them, not tearing but crackling, discordant and echoing. 

Rumi didn’t hear it, didn’t see it. The only thing she saw was the light behind the fanatic’s eyes beginning to dim, the only thing she heard was the roaring of her pulse in her ears. 

The light under Rumi’s hand went out. With barely more than a whispered sigh, the fanatic slumped down onto the ground. His heart was still beating, but his eyes were vacant. 

Rumi didn’t spare his body a second longer than it deserved, turning and dropping to her knees between the bodies of her girls, barely registering her knees hitting the concrete hard. 

The shrieking rage in her mind had mostly quieted, revealing the yawning chasm of pain underneath. It was as if someone had reached into her ribcage and torn out her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath. 

Do something. Do ANYTHING. You can’t let this happen. No matter what it takes, what it costs, you have to bring them back. 

Rumi’s hands fell onto their chest, palm above their heart. Her claws dug into flesh again, but this time there was only needy desperation where before there was roiling fury. She felt the power humming in her body, power she had never felt before, and she didn’t hesitate for a second as she pushed it out of her and into them. 

It hurt, physically it hurt. It felt unnatural, every instinct telling her this was wrong. Don’t give. Claim. Hoard. Take. She screamed through it, pushed through the agony in her bones because the agony in her heart was and would forever be infinitely worse if she didn’t fix this NOW. The Honmoon rippled, for the first time not just out across the surface but down, deep into the earth where wicked things lurked. A message, a promise, a challenge. 

Rumi’s eyes were closed and full of tears, her body hunched forward, nose practically scraping against the ground, long low wail echoing in her vocal chords. She didn’t see the wounds on Zoey and Mira’s face begin to shift as small shards of glass, metal, and plastic began to worm their way out of the skin, plinking onto the ground. A different light, white and gold and laced with strands of pink was shining out from her hands, soaking into Mira and Zoey’s bodies. Permeating through the skin and tissue and bone, settling into a recently emptied space. 

Beneath her palms, Rumi felt a familiar pair of heartbeats.

The pair on the ground on their backs blinked up at the sky.

They rocketed up into a sitting position, taking greedy, gasping inhales of breath. For a moment, all Zoey and Mira could manage to do was sit there, eyes staring off into space, panting. 

They had died. 

As in-sync as ever, both heads whipped down to look Rumi at the same time. She was still kneeling on the ground, heaving and panting like she had just run a marathon. Her body was half-angled up like she wanted to rise but couldn’t lift herself another inch. One hand was braced against the ground, the only thing still keeping her sitting. The claws and fangs were gone, but there was no missing the two fine-pointed horns newly grown from her temples.

“You’re ok.” It was barely a whisper. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes rolled back. She tipped sideways as black spots covered the world around her. 

“Rumi!”