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The Honmoon loved Rumi from the start. Celine remembers singing to her as a baby, trying to get her to sleep, and Rumi giggling and trying to grab the strands of blue that surrounded her. It played with her as she grew older, flitted through the fields around the shrine with her, blossomed around flowers that she sang to. Celine remembers frantically searching for her one evening as the shadows lengthened, until a blue wave heralded Rumi’s return.
Celine worried less about Rumi when she wandered off after that. The Honmoon would always guide her home.
Which is why Rumi is here now, sitting politely off to the side, letting the chaos swirl around her. The stage is a hive of activity, as crew members rush about making sure everything is in order. Celine has already checked in with her panel of judges, who are now mostly nursing drinks and reviewing the list of candidates. They’re mostly ignoring the teenager at the end of the table, not entirely sure what to do about her. Celine had explained her presence as a training exercise.
“Really, Jun-seo,” she’d said. “No one ever prepared me for life after being an idol. I want her to observe, see what it is we’re looking for.”
The choreographer, a long time friend, had shrugged. “Just be careful. She’s going to face enough criticism for having your guidance all these years. If rumors start that she got to pick her own group members, they’ll never get off the ground.”
As Celine approaches, Rumi smiles at her, a bit too wide, her excitement bleeding through. Celine raps her knuckles on the table as she leans over it, and Rumi settles into a more neutral expression. “Remember what we talked about,” Celine says. “Speak only when spoken to. Try not to show too much interest in particular candidates, especially at the beginning.”
“Yes, Celine,” Rumi says, so seriously, spine straight. Celine nods, pride swelling her chest. It’s nothing less than she expects, nothing less than what Rumi needs to perfect for the Honmoon’s sake, and yet…
“Enjoy it,” she adds, quieter, a memory from what feels like forever ago winding through her chest, warmth and regret woven together tightly. “There’s nothing like meeting them for the first time.”
Rumi’s smile flashes too many teeth, then settles down into something red carpet ready.
“I’ll check in with you before we dismiss anyone. If you feel anything, let me know.”
The speakers blast into life, beat thrumming through the space; someone shouts an order and the volume lowers to something more manageable. Celine straightens as the crew member tests the microphone at the front of the stage, her voice echoing through the theater.
Celine turns away from Rumi, approaches her group of judges, carefully selected from throughout the industry. She’s impressed on them all that she has final say on the other members of Huntrix. In return, they’re free to sign on anyone who doesn’t make the cut. There will be many young women leaving today with some sort of contract offer.
She’s only looking for two.
She closes her eyes and takes a breath. Reaches out the Honmoon, feels it hum in anticipation. They’re here. They must be here.
Celine opens her eyes, looks around at the judges, now settling at the table, at the crew taking up their positions. At Soo-jin, her second in command, just waiting for her word. Celine nods. “Let’s bring them in.”
——
Mira files into the theater with the rest of the crowd, irritation already writhing under her skin. The constant noise, the strong perfumes, bright colors clashing everywhere she looks.
These girls must be talented to be here, but clearly some of them would need a lot more training to be ready for the stage. Mira can think that because it’s true and because she figures she’s in that number. Her family had put her into ballet and piano lessons, but the love of dance and music that had been sparked had been seen as an indulgence, not something worth considering. So Mira had done the rest herself, studying sewing tutorials and dancing videos with similar intensity, hiding herself away to work on makeup, skipping as many family functions as possible to get a move just right.
Her family is on the edge of disowning her. If they find out that she’s here, they just might do it regardless of outcome.
But Mira isn’t expecting to be chosen for Huntrix, isn’t here for Celine. She scans the stage and spots Hong Jun-seo, and nods to herself. He’s who she’s here for. If she can impress him, if she can get a chance to study with him… then all of this will have been worth it.
Then she spots the girl at the end of the stage, and that irritation threatens to crash over her.
Ryu Rumi. Daughter of one Sunlight Sister. Ward of another. Pop star royalty.
Nepo baby, Mira thinks with disgust. All of these girls here to prove themselves as being worthy to join her. They’ve all had to make through the first rounds of screenings just to be here. When Rumi gets to sit on stage, watching, judging. When she’s been handed every advantage, gifted the best teachers in the industry. Mira runs a critical eye down her makeup, her expression, her outfit, all of it quietly professional in a way that only makes Mira’s fingers twitch and her jaw clench.
The girls crowded around Mira might be flawed, but at least they’re real.
Mira comes back to herself when she feels someone knock into her shoulder. She turns to see a girl, hair dyed a rich reddish brown and pulled into a ponytail, glare at her as she pulls a bag further up her arm.
“Watch it,” the girl snaps. “Some of us came here to work, not gawk.” She shifts again, and Mira can practically smell the sweat on her.
But just because she’s nervous doesn’t mean Mira has to put up with it. She can feel her expression settle into the bland mask that she uses when anyone yells at her, the one that always makes her father scold her for disobedience, and can see how the girl reacts, mouth turning further downward. “Calm down,” Mira says. “You bumped into me.”
The girl puts her shoulders back, her eyes starting to blaze. “You—”
A shorter girl, black hair falling loose around her shoulders, steps between them with her back to Mira. “No need to fight,” she says brightly. “Just cause we’re rivals doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly. So… let’s not make a scene!”
It’s the last line that has the brunette looking around, noting the way the other girls are starting to give them a berth, the way the gap in the crowd is drawing attention to them. She turns and disappears into the mix, joining those jostling for a spot nearest the stage, as if that would somehow give them a leg up.
Mira stares at the back of the new girl’s head, amusement warring with frustration. She wasn’t going to fight, she wants to snap, until she sees the girl’s shoulders slump.
“Oh wow,” the new girl says, nervous laughter punctuating the words. “I don’t know what came over me.” She turns to face Mira finally, her brown eyes warming as she smiles up at her. “Bullies are the worst though, huh?”
Mira takes her in, the freckles across her face, the expert makeup that accentuates her eyes, the baggy pants and tank top, a flannel tied around her waist. But she can also see the wince behind her teeth, and she swallows back the harsher tone as something like deja vu sweeps through her. “Don’t get yourself in trouble on my account,” she says instead.
“You look like you’re worth some trouble,” the girl says, then pales. “I mean, want to stick together?” she adds in a rush. “It’d be nice to have someone to talk to throughout all this.”
Mira raises an eyebrow. “Then you’re probably better off with the others,” she says, gesturing to the crowded front section. “I was going to set up nearer to the back, away from all of that.”
“What’s wrong with that?” her companion asks, gesturing for her to lead on. “I’m Zoey, by the way.”
Mira hums. “It’s just that you’re so small, Zoey,” she says. “Are you sure that they’ll see you back here?” She turns and walks away, smirking as she hears a small gasp.
“Rude!” Zoey accuses without heat, taking a couple of hurried steps to catch up with Mira’s stride. “I’ll have you know that I light up a room.”
“Your mom tell you that?” Mira drawls.
But Zoey just interlaces her fingers behind her head, grins up at Mira. Even winks. “All the time,” she says, and Mira turns her head to hide her smile.
“Mira,” she says, because it’s easier than I think I’d like to talk to you too.
“Mira,” Zoey repeats, then, when Mira stops, drops her bag and holds out her hand. “Rivals and friends?”
Breathing a laugh, Mira takes her hand in a firm grip. “Rivals and friends.”
——
Rumi finds herself holding her breath as the crowd files into the theater. The Honmoon thrums under their feet, weaves among them like a playful breeze. She can see it settling around one girl but skirting another, notes both of their faces.
There’s a sudden flare of blue, spiking Rumi’s pulse in her wrists at the same moment as she turns to look, but it’s off in the back, hidden from her view. She hums a note under her breath, can feel the Honmoon’s purring delight in return.
Let them be here, she asks silently. The sooner she finds them, the sooner they can start training. The sooner they can debut, protect the people of their city, turn the Honmoon golden. Get rid of these patterns, make Celine proud. Prove herself worthy of her legacy.
And maybe, a quiet part of her thinks. Just maybe these girls will accept her, patterns and all.
The Honmoon swirls around her, lays itself over her skin, traces her veins in its own gentle light.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rumi sees Celine glance her way. With another soft note, she releases the Honmoon from her side, sending it back into its smooth lines above. She knows that Celine’s relationship with the Honmoon is different from hers, that Celine sometimes worries when the Honmoon hovers too close. Rumi doesn’t know how to tell her that it’s comfort, not suppression. It might feel too much like an accusation.
Celine’s attention turns back to the crowd of people settling into place, and Rumi takes a deep breath as Soo-jin’s voice rings out over the loudspeakers, welcoming them to the Huntrix auditions.
——
Zoey drains half a bottle of water in one go and wipes her face with a towel. She’s just finished a dance trial, one where they were given a short routine and not much time to memorize it before having to perform it. She’d made it through, and was only partially unnerved when she’d finished the steps and seen Celine watching her intently. Celine. Like Sunlight Sisters Celine. Like. The woman whose voice was ingrained in Zoey’s childhood.
But Celine had just nodded, and Zoey is still here. Over half of the group they’d started with is gone, and from the looks of a few more gathering their things, still more were on their way out. Zoey is here. It doesn’t quite feel real.
Mira’s things are still here as well, and Zoey scans for her, able to spot the taller girl and her pink hair without too much trouble. She’s standing with another group, focusing on the choreographer with single minded intent.
That’s when Zoey’s skin prickles with the feeling of being watched, and she wipes at the back of her neck as she scans the crowd. It’s not until she turns back to the stage that she ends up locking eyes with the person they’ve all apparently been trying to ignore: Rumi.
Zoey grins at her, touches two fingers to her forehead in a salute, and catches Rumi’s startled blink, the shy little smile that she tries to conceal by looking away, like Rumi has no idea how to respond. Zoey bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing; Rumi’s a lot cuter when she looks her age instead of a miniature Celine.
Zoey’s familiar with Rumi’s story, of course. She remembers the scandal of Mi-yeong’s pregnancy, remembers the tutting commentators on Celine’s solo career being cut short as she took in Rumi as her own. But she’s also familiar with Rumi, in that she’s followed Rumi’s social media accounts since she started posting music. Mostly covers of popular songs, but also songs she wrote herself, just a teenager with a guitar sitting on a bed with a camera pointed at her.
It had been stupidly, endearingly normal, which Zoey figures was probably the point. Well, everything was totally normal except Rumi’s voice. That was a showstopper, even recorded on a phone in a bedroom.
At times Zoey had been tempted to send Rumi some of her lyrics, had kicked her feet and daydreamed over hearing a voice like that sing her songs. Honestly, it was the main reason that Zoey had applied for Huntrix. She’s not sure she could ever be good enough for Celine of the Sunlight Sisters. But she could probably be partners with the teenager and her guitar.
“Group 3 participants, please come to the front of the stage,” the loudspeaker announces, and Zoey quickly swigs more water and tosses her towel onto her bag before heading to whatever comes next.
——
Rumi shifts in her chair, fingernails digging lightly into her palms. They’re down to about a dozen tryouts left. Outside, the sun is surely starting to sink in the sky, and everyone is starting to show the wear of the day. The Honmoon wraps itself around the girls, lending them strength, and Rumi hides a smile even as nerves knot themselves into her stomach. Celine has kept her promise from the start of the day; the ones who remain have all had the greatest interest shown in them by the Honmoon.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Celine says, the loudspeaker turned off now that the group is so small. “You are all extremely talented young women, and I would be delighted to have any of you on contract with Sunlight Entertainment. But when it comes to being part of Huntrix, there’s one last audition we would like from you.” Celine pauses, smiles. “One by one, I’ll have you come up onto the stage and perform something with Rumi.”
What.
All eyes turn to her, and Rumi smiles, stands and bows, wishing Celine had given her some amount of warning.
“When it comes to a group, there needs to be a certain balance,” Celine is saying. “We’ve seen you prove yourselves as the best individuals. I would like to see how you work in tandem. Understood?”
A chorus of affirmatives, and Celine nods. “Anita, would you be willing to go first?”
“Yes,” Anita answers, and approaches the steps up. Rumi remains standing, smile fixed into place. Anita is beautiful, long dark hair swaying behind her as she approaches, the Honmoon trailing in her footsteps. She and Rumi bow to each other.
“Take a moment to decide what you want to do,” Celine says, and Rumi smiles at Anita.
“It’s your audition,” she says. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Anita smiles back, shoulders relaxing a little. “That’s very kind of you,” she says. “Are you familiar with Ma Boy? I’d like to sing that.”
Rumi nods. “Let me just refresh on the lyrics, but that sounds good.” She pulls out her phone and reads through them quickly, as Anita hands off the backing track to the sound crew.
Rumi tenses in anticipation as the music starts, and then Anita takes the lead as promised. And it’s… good. It’s nice. Anita glances at her and Rumi adds her voice, harmonizing and supporting, and they share a smile. Rumi can feel the Honmoon building between them as they sing together. Anita’s obviously trained for this most of her life, cut from the same sort of teachings that Rumi’s been through. Sharing the song and the stage with her is easy, almost effortless.
But the Honmoon thrums contentedly, a quiet steadiness that reassures. It doesn’t flare or ignite.
This can’t possibly be what Celine meant when she said there was nothing like meeting your partners, could it?
The song ends to polite applause, and Rumi cuts her eyes over to Celine as Anita exits. But Celine gives her no indication of her thoughts as she consults the list in front of her.
“Zoey, you’re up next.”
A head pops up, and a girl rushes onto stage, black hair pulled back in a loose, messy bun. Rumi recognizes her from earlier, smiles at the way she almost skids to a stop and drops into a quick, jerky bow that Rumi returns.
“Hi, I’m Zoey,” she says. “Hey, maybe weird question. Do you remember Far from Home? Would you be willing to play that?”
The quick chatter catches Rumi off guard. “I—” she starts, has to pause and shake her head a little, refuses to look Celine’s way. “Do you mean the song I wrote a couple of years ago?”
“Yeah,” Zoey nods enthusiastically. “That’s the one!”
Rumi frowns a little. “I think we have a guitar. Are you sure? It’s not exactly in genre.” She wrote that song for her mother, though she’d left the lyrics ambiguous enough that it could sound like a more typical teenaged heartbreak song, knew that was how most of the listeners took it.
“I’m sure. Just wait, I’ve got a great idea,” Zoey says, eyes sparkling, and Rumi can’t help but smile as the Honmoon swirls around her, outlining the smaller girl in blue.
“Okay,” Rumi agrees. “Just let me get a guitar and make sure it’s in tune.”
Soo-jin is already stepping out from backstage with a familiar guitar case in hand, and Rumi thanks her as she takes it, opens the case to find her guitar in there. So Celine’s planned this from the start. Well, maybe it’s only fair that Rumi also be tested.
She tunes it quickly, then returns to Zoey. “Anything special you want me to do?”
“No, no. Just play it normally. And prepare to be amazed.” Zoey bounces on her feet, and Rumi strums the guitar.
“I’m left staring at the sky and wondering where I’ve been,” she sings, and the Honmoon stirs for her, gleams along the guitar strings, vibrates with every motion of her fingers.
But Zoey stands there, eyes closed, not moving, silent.
Rumi continues the song, trying not to let her concern creep into her voice, even as she sees the blue light within Zoey, even as the Honmoon gathers around her frame, coiled in anticipation.
And then Rumi finishes the chorus and Zoey bursts into life. Her eyes fly open, her hand throws itself outward, her stance shifts into something confident and vibrant. “I got, I got, I got— I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA,” she raps, voice flying, curling around Rumi’s guitar, bouncing over and sliding under the second verse, melding seamlessly into one complete whole.
Rumi’s smiling into the words as the Honmoon flares alongside Zoey, pulses between them with the beat that Zoey’s tapping with her foot. It builds, higher and higher, every word from Zoey driving it up another step, until the blue stretches from the stage to the ceiling.
But the Honmoon teeters a little, and Rumi can feel Zoey through the strands between them, can sense the flow state that she’s in, can anticipate how Zoey’s about to run headfirst into the next chorus, where the delicate balance between them will falter. So she improvises a run on the guitar, hums a lifting note, steadying the Honmoon as Zoey spirals higher, a hawk on a thermal.
And Zoey recognizes it, looks at Rumi with wide, grateful eyes as she reaches the top and crashes back down like a wave, a final stomp of her foot marking the end of the rap as Rumi launches into the chorus, Zoey’s voice joining hers over the last line. The Honmoon fills the air between them, shimmering so thickly it’s like she’s seeing Zoey from underwater. The last notes die down and Zoey says something either too quiet or too English for Rumi to entirely catch before she throws herself forward and wraps Rumi in a hug at her side, trying to avoid the guitar.
Rumi falters a little, then hugs her back quickly with one arm, and Zoey pulls back, her eyes sparkling.
“That was, like, the coolest thing that ever happened in my life,” she says, and Rumi can’t help but laugh.
“Maybe mine too,” she answers more quietly, almost conspiratorially, and Zoey gives her a nod and a wink.
“See you later,” Zoey says, then leans forward. “Let’s collab sometime,” Zoey adds. “I’ve got a lot of ideas.”
“I’d like to hear them,” Rumi smiles before letting her leave the stage. As soon as you’re part of Huntrix.
The Honmoon brushes over Zoey’s cheek, and Zoey’s fingers search for a loose piece of hair that doesn’t exist.
Rumi puts the guitar back in its case and looks over at Celine, who searches her face in return. She makes a mark on the paper in front of her, then calls the next candidate up.
The next few are like Anita; safe, practical, professional. The Honmoon glimmers between them, responds to their voices, but it’s all very polite and restrained. Rumi is positive that she could work with any of these girls, that the Honmoon would be maintained and secure with them by her side.
But turning it golden? That’s less certain, and anything less than that is unacceptable.
“Mira,” Celine calls, and Rumi sucks in a quiet breath as Mira comes up onto the stage, her expression tight, eyes searching Rumi like she suspects her of theft.
“Do you know how to dance?” she asks without introducing herself, though she at least waits to ask until they’re close enough for not everyone to be able to overhear.
Rumi tries to smile at her, though it only seems to make her mouth twist more. “Not as well as you do,” she says, honest, because she’s seen Mira dance throughout the day. Hard for Mira not to stand out, especially after Rumi overheard Jun-seo call her the best dancer out of everyone in the building.
Mira just hums, at least sounding more non-committal than annoyed. “Then I’ll show you a more basic version of the routine I want to do. Just stick to that, and let me work around you.” Mira looks Rumi up and down, appraising. “I can make it look like you’re doing something much more complicated.”
Rumi nods and suddenly finds herself in her own little mini-trial, with Mira running her through a set of steps and moves. Their time is limited, so Mira is brisk and efficient, turning Rumi’s wrist to the exact angle she wants, correcting a foot position by nudging against it with her own. It’s demanding without being harsh, and Rumi concentrates fiercely on each nuance, sees something glimmer in Mira’s eyes.
“If you get lost, just stop and sing,” Mira tells her with a little smirk, the Honmoon hovering over her shoulder taking any bite out of it. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Rumi nods, trying to fight the burning in her chest that wants to prove Mira wrong — about what, exactly, she’s not sure. The backing track starts, and Mira nods at her once before focusing, and they hit that first move together, a step forward, a twitch of hips.
The Honmoon bursts under their feet, stretching the length of the stage. It climbs Mira as she moves, tangles about her when she spins, and Rumi’s voice soars because she can’t laugh. The Honmoon beckons at her, pulls, blue lighting up over her skin, and Mira glances over, stunned, as Rumi matches her beat for beat on an arm movement that Mira had not taught her.
Then she smirks, and the Honmoon pours over the stage as they flit around each other without bumping, in sync, effortless.
But Rumi’s not as good a dancer, and when she tries to follow this one move where Mira drops her hip and spins, she can feel herself come off balance, has that split second to think — I’m going to fall — and then Mira’s hands are on her waist, steadying her, twirling her through the final part of the move and all Rumi can see is blue, blue, blue.
The Honmoon clings to her hips, lingers in Mira’s palms, even as they strike the final pose, looking at each other, chests heaving. Rumi can finally give into the smile. “That was so cool,” she says. “You’re like liquid. I couldn’t really keep up.”
“We’ll work on that,” Mira tells her, a small smile at the corner of her mouth, and then she seems to startle as the applause reminds her of where they are. She steps back, bows, a more professional expression settling over her features. Rumi longs to see that smile again. “If I get chosen.”
If? Rumi wants to ask. You’re definitely mine.
She excuses herself for some water, watches Mira return to the seats and stride over to Zoey, who greets her with a grin, pointing at the stage as she whisper shouts something Rumi can’t hear. There’s something about seeing them, about Mira shaking her head at first when Zoey offers a fist bump and then reluctantly complying, that makes her chest warm. She drinks, looking over at Celine as she caps the bottle and puts it back. Surely it must be them. It has to be.
Celine is watching her in return, and Rumi can see her nod, just fractionally, before she taps the page. Rumi returns to the front of the stage. They have to finish the auditions; it’s only fair. She tries not to look toward Zoey and Mira, remembering Celine’s admonishment from earlier, but it’s difficult when she can feel the weight of their gaze, how they watch every moment and listen to every note over the next few performances. As if they know they won’t be surpassed. As if they believe the spots at her side already belong to them.
It’s only the truth, after all.
——
Rumi is excused after the final performance, and she heads backstage, ostensibly to let Celine and the other judges reach their final decisions.
There’s a small dressing room that’s been set up for this purpose and Rumi slips inside, falls onto the small couch with a sigh. The Honmoon swirls about her, humming happily at her until she hums back.
“I can’t wait either,” she whispers, and sits forward to turn on the electric kettle. Tea would be good right now, for both her throat and her nerves. It only takes a moment, and then she cradles the mug in both hands, sipping slowly.
It’s sooner than she thinks when she hears footsteps outside the door, and Rumi hurriedly stands as a brief knock precedes Soo-jin opening the door. “Rumi, hello. Celine thought you might like to get to know the other members of Huntrix while they finish talking to the rest of the candidates. I think there’s a few preliminary contracts to offer, so it might take a little while.”
Rumi nods, reading the command between the lines. Celine’s going to be tied up with business; please stay to the side until it’s concluded. She doesn’t think that will be hard, as she hears a giggle from the hallway; her eyes dart past Soo-jin, who just smiles fondly at her distraction.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, leaving the door open as she exits.
And the next thing Rumi knows, Zoey is bounding into the room, grabbing both of her hands and twirling her around in a circle. “We made it!” she exclaims, and looks back over her shoulder as Mira steps into the room.
“Gonna be honest, I was really just trying to get signed by Hong Jun-seo,” she says. “I don’t know about this whole Huntrix group thing.”
“Mira!” Zoey protests, but Mira’s got that small smile curling at her lips, and Zoey huffs when she notices.
“Last chance to back out,” Rumi warns. “After this, you’ll break my heart if you do.”
They both stop and stare at her, and she immediately flushes. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, maybe that was weird, maybe—
Zoey releases her hands and Rumi has a half second to panic before Zoey’s pressing on her cheeks instead. “That’s so cute. Mira, look, no way you can quit now, we’re besties forever.” And then just as suddenly Zoey pulls back with a gasp. “Tell me we can eat the ramyeon; I’m starving, that lunch break was like a week ago.”
Rumi laughs. “Yeah, let me get it started for you. Mira, want some as well?” She looks over at the taller girl, who’s regarding her with her head slightly tilted, as if studying her.
“Sure,” she answers, and Rumi turns away to pour the hot water, starting a timer on her phone.
As she turns back to them, Rumi feels the Honmoon shiver down her arms, and she impulsively reaches out to both of them. Zoey immediately takes her hand, and Mira hesitates only briefly, eyes darting over to Zoey before she copies her movement. Rumi squeezes their hands, watches the Honmoon wrap around their joined fingers. “I know there’s a lot to figure out and even more work ahead of us, but it’s been a long day. So let me just say: welcome to Huntrix. I’m so glad to meet you.”
Zoey beams at her, the Honmoon lighting up with her smile. Mira’s expression doesn’t change, but the fingers interlaced with Rumi’s tighten just enough to be noticeable, and the Honmoon hums.
And Rumi, for the first time she can remember, feels the Honmoon settle into her chest, sees and feels it settle into Zoey and Mira’s in turn. Zoey’s eyes widen, her free hand pressing to her chest. Mira shivers, her eyes softening momentarily.
Mine, she thinks she hears the Honmoon whisper.
The deep peace of belonging is interrupted by her phone timer going off, and Rumi lets go of their hands to hand out cups of ramyeon.
“To Huntrix!” Zoey cries, holding her cup up in a toast.
Mira and Rumi exchange a look, and then both tap their cups to Zoey’s. “To Huntrix!”