Chapter Text
She couldn’t breathe. She tried to inhale frantically, but it only came out in choke gasps as the pressure around her neck began to tighten, as though a snake was coiled around her windpipe. She felt the warm trail of tears cascading down her face as she struggled against the unknown force clamped around her throat.
The little girl didn’t know what happened. One minute, she was splashing in the puddles outside the cottage. A strange tingling sensation erupted from the center of her chest, as goosebumps sprouted from her skin. Then, in the blink of an eye, she found herself soaked in the water of the very puddle she had been playing in. She was lifted into the air by a sturdy grip around her neck.
She kicked and clawed at the obstructing force, but it did not budge.
“You’re a weird little thing, aren’t you? I can see why the King has such an interest in you.” A rugged voice chuckled in amusement
The little girl looked up to see where that voice was coming from. The evening sky made it hard to get the exact details of his face. It was a tall creature, with blueish-gray skin, claws where its hands were supposed to be, piercing gold eyes, and fang-like tusks protruding at the corners of its mouth. It wore an all-black, loose-fitting outfit with a large black hat; it was the same outfit her father had shoved in the back of his closet. The one he has to keep a secret because people weren’t supposed to know he had it, they would hurt him and the little girl if anyone knew.
The thing that shook the little girl most was the markings on the creature. It was the same ones that trailed all around her dad and on her own chest.
“The King will enjoy making you his personal puppet, Mutt.” The creature spat. All the little girl could do was flail in response. She could barely see anything anymore, the tears welling up in her eyes, her surroundings started to blur together. The next moment, she was back in that very puddle, breathing again. The girl greedily gasped for air as she heard a demonic screech from above her. She felt a pair of arms wrap around her torso and her being hoisted up and carried away swiftly.
“Rumi! Are you okay?!” A man questioned as he placed her back to rest on a nearby tree trunk and examined the area around her neck. This man had short hair in a similar lilac color to hers, soft yellow eyes, the color of honey, and long claws that faded to a purple gradient the more distal they got from his body.
“Y-yea” Rumi coughed out, still regaining her breath. “Who… who was that Dad?” The girl asked after a moment, looking up at her father. Strangely, she felt another tingle in the center of her chest, right in the base of her sternum.
“A bad man, Tiger. We need to g-” Her dad was abruptly cut off and blurred before Rumi’s eyes as he was thrown into the wall of the cottage with a thud. The wooden walls cracked around him, leaving a dent in the structure. The man gasped and coughed as he tried to refill his lungs with air that had been knocked out of him with the unexpected blow.
“Found you, Traitor!” A different creature bellowed, very similar to the first. It charged at her father and plucked him off the wall before slamming him into the wet terrain below.
“Dad!” Rumi screamed as she scrambled up to get to him
“You’ve grown weak, Minho.” The being leaned toward the girl’s father’s ear and let out a low growl as it gripped the back of his head with its taloned hands.
“Rumi! You have to run!” Her father shouted as his face was pushed further down into the mud by the creature as he struggled. Rumi froze in her tracks.
Run. Like they always did. She could run.
She was great at running, Dad said she was the best.
But run alone.
She couldn’t run alone.
She couldn’t leave her dad behind.
She felt two sharp pain points from the crown of her head. Her eyes began to burn, as if she were cutting an onion. Her teeth ached as she felt the prick of unfamiliar objects in her maw poking at her lips. She felt a weird stretch in her hands as if someone was pulling on each of her fingers, trying to pop them out of their sockets.
The little girl demon let out an ear-piercing screech, unaware of the threads around her changing their hue to red and trembling in her pained wail.
Rumi let out a desperate gasp as she shot up from her slumber, the same threads from her dream ripple around her, as though they had traveled along with her consciousness. But these ripples stay confined to the walls surrounding her.
Her forehead was drenched in sweat, her claws were clenched around the fabric of her oversized sleep shirt, and her breath was uneven and shaky. She focused on her surroundings, looking around and saw where she was, in her apartment. Under a thin, tattered blanket on her mattress on the floor, the cracks that littered her stained walls in a similar, jagged way the markings are etched into her skin bring her a wave of relief.
Rumi was safe.
“Just another nightmare. I’m not there anymore.” The girl mumbled to herself as she worked on her breathing to calm her racing heart. She glanced over at her phone and took notice of the time. She needed to get up anyway.
Rumi sat for a few moments to try to recollect her thoughts after that nightmare. She let the patter of the raindrops colliding with her window ground her. She watched the outside storm as though she were in a trance; it helped the drumming of her pulse slow, and her rapid breaths became more fluid and less constricted.
Once stable, she threw her covers off and forcefully dragged herself to her shower. A warm shower has always been able to calm her nerves. She flipped the shower handle up with her claw as she undressed herself from her sweat-soaked clothing. As she removed her clothes, she took notice of the reflection of herself in the mirror.
Her lilac hair was a mess; its usual uniform braid had strands sticking out from all ends, and some were plastered onto her forehead due to the thin layer of sweat coating her face. On the crown of her head, where her hair meets her skin, she noticed two horns protruding from her skin, one slightly longer than the other, with a deep violet gradient as it neared the point. One of her eyes was a golden yellow with a stilted cat-like pupil in the center, while the other remained its usual brown hue. Curved fangs were poking out at the corner of her lips; if she were to bite down, she would be sure they would draw blood. Her hands were now in the shapes of claws that could rake through skin with ease. And then there were her patterns, which danced all the way from the center of her sternum to about halfway onto her arms, just above her elbows, then they traveled to her back, right to about midway of her shoulder blades.
All of these traits were among the few things she had to remember her father. She recalled the late nights she would cry herself to sleep in his arms.
Why couldn’t she be around the other kids? Why can’t she show anyone her markings? Why do they have to hide so much? Why would they never stay in one place for too long? What were they running from? These questions ran out of her mouth daily as a child.
He never knew how to respond; it was always with I’ll tell you when you’re older or We have to run and hide, that’s how we stay safe or Nothing good can come from beings like us, I’m sorry. Her father always avoided answering with the real reasons; he always ran away from telling her the truth about why she was different.
And he never got to tell her. She is still stuck asking these questions today, alone.
She was able to find some answers to her questions. She was a demon, well, half, maybe? At least she made that assumption after being called a “mutt” or “half-breed” by these other demons that were sent after her from their King. Gwi-ma, she thinks, was his name.
Many of the creatures she faced didn’t talk; they were faceless beings. Pale grey skin, a ravenous hunger for violence, and a hive-like mind. Rumi believed they had no thoughts, no feelings; all they wanted was to make those around them suffer just as much as they suffered themselves. But the few demons who did talk never answered any of her questions. They just threw insults around as they exchanged blows.
Rumi knew she was hiding from these other demons, obviously, but who else is she hiding from? These demons keep finding her even when her patterns are covered; they are still able to sniff her out. She noticed that humans couldn’t see the markings that were drawn into her skin. But what’s the point of hiding her patterns if they know where she is and can appear wherever? There has to be something else to it.
“No hot water… again.” Rumi groaned as she ran her purple gradient claws under the stream of water to test its temperature. She begrudgingly took a step onto the tiled floor and hissed at the icy water beating into her skin. She started bathing away the thoughts and sweat of the evening, being mindful of her still clawed hands. Even though the icy water wasn’t preferable, she could feel the tension in her body melt away as she went through her routine. She slowly felt her demonic traits evaporating, becoming human again, normal again.
Rumi started to feel somewhat comfortable in her own skin. She had to be for tonight.
About once a week, she would go to a discreet club in downtown Seoul and perform in front of its patrons. Tonight, she was the main attraction, the club’s crown jewel. She and the blood-soaked arena were the only things that kept the crowds coming back to this illegal hole-in-the-wall club.
Rumi would sometimes enter this arena herself, as it was another way to make quick, and in her opinion, easy cash, but not tonight. She would already be exhausted from the show, and may not be in the best shape to brawl afterwards. She knew that she needed to look and be her best if she wanted to earn anything that night. Rumi couldn’t afford to any mistakes or mishaps because of a stupid, bad dream and her shaken-up thoughts. She wasn’t a child; she needed to stop being so dramatic.
This was her reality. Rumi needed a paycheck born of necessity rather than choice. Without a birth certificate or any legal documents, she was a ghost to the outside, almost nonexistent. The club was the only place that didn’t mind hiring someone with a background like hers. Honestly, she preferred it that way.
The patrons were mostly assholes, sure. But they were the kind of assholes who knew when to mind their own business. One sharp snap was usually enough to keep their curiosity at ease, and she found a certain peace in being left alone and watching the seas of people interacting.
Rumi quickly finished her shower, wanting to get out of the frigid water as soon as she could. Once situated, she dug through her closet looking for an appropriate outfit for tonight. Something breathable and mobile, but also covered the marked skin of her arms and chest. She eventually landed on some baggy pants, a long sleeved cropped hoodie, and a zip-up jacket to go on top.
Once dressed, Rumi took another glance at her phone, looking at the time.
She’ll be there early if she leaves now. She can grab a drink at the bar in the club before her scheduled show; she senses it’ll be a long night. She could already feel the migraine forming at the thought of the crowd tonight.
Rumi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She envisioned in her mind the secluded corner of an alleyway that was directly across the street from the club. She felt the sharp prickles in her patterned skin, and her world spun slightly. She vanished in a pink cloud of smoke smelling of pungent ash and a slight tinge of rotting flesh.
When she reappeared, she was standing in the very spot she had envisioned in her mind. The air surrounding her was now cool and crisp, smelling of freshly damp soil as she inhaled, a contrast when compared to the decaying wood in her apartment.
Rumi took in her surroundings, making sure no one was nearby to notice her sudden appearance or the rising pink smoke around her. One second, she was in her bedroom, the next, she felt the wispy breeze hit her skin. She noticed the iridescent threads rippled and hummed against the ground from the aftershock of her teleporting.
Once clear, she dug into her pockets and pulled out a purple masquerade mask to cover up the top part of her face, along with her hood. She got it from a cheap store selling all sorts of random crap. Rumi preferred to keep her identity hidden when dealing with this sort of crowd. They were shady, and she would not want one of them running into her when she was out in public, especially if there was bad blood between them.
Rumi navigated her way through the maze of alley ways, careful to avoid stepping in any puddles left behind from the rain from the evening. Rumi eventually made it out and to the opening of the alleys, she now stood on the sidewalk of a busy street made her way to an opening that viewed an abandoned mall across the street. The walls of the mall were cracked, much like her apartment’s, as ivy and overgrowth were traveling up the sides; it looked so fragile that a small gust of wind could knock it down in a second, but it still stood tall, having stood for at least in the past four years since she started coming here.
She could hear the loud chanting and banter as she heaved the creaky wooden door open with her shoulder. No one batted an eye as she walked through the crowds of patrons; she blended right in. She pulled her hood low to her face and sat on a stool by the bar. As on queue, the bartender slid her a drink, which she acknowledged with a nod as she brought it to her lips.
“Ready t’night, Huntress?” The bartender asked as he dried off the rim of a mug with a rag, placing it into the nearby rack
“Yea not worried,” Rumi responded, taking in the crowd tonight. Huntress was an alias. It was what she went by in this area. She didn’t choose the name; it was given to her. At first, as a mock, but now it’s a sign of respect. The first night Rumi stumbled upon the club, she wore the same mask she had on currently. She got into an argument with an older fellow after he made some backhanded comments about her. One thing led to another, and they were brawling it out in the pit.
She won. The opponent said she was wild when she fought, like a tiger hunting its prey. He then retracted his previous remark and came up with the name Huntress. It just stuck like glue ever since. She liked that, it gave her some sense of belonging around here with the freaks. Every so often, she would see the older man in the club; he was one of the few people Rumi didn’t mind down there, even if they got off on the wrong foot at first.
“Oh, we’re a little confident, aren’t we?” The bartender shot up an amused eyebrow at the young girl
“Do I have a reason not to be?” Rumi shot back. She was a woman of few words. She was straight to the point, blunt, cutthroat. You have to be to survive in this crowd.
The bartender gave a curt hum in response as he returned to his duties. Rumi continued to take swigs of her drink as she surveyed the area. The combination of strong alcohol burning as it traveled down her throat, the smell of cigars and cheap perfume, the dim flickering lights strung overhead, and the loud shouting of men losing their life savings in a match of craps really brought out a sense of comfort and familiarity in Rumi.
Everyone here was a piece of shit; they have no purpose, no home to go back to, nothing to lose. Rumi fit right in, and she always will until the day finally comes when she is taken to the king of demons or until the blood in her veins ceases to pump. But until then, she will live her life the best she can; it is the least she could do for her father, who traded his life for her own.
Some parts of Rumi couldn’t ignore the thought of the feeling of tranquility when she finally reunites with her father, in whatever afterlife has in store for demons like themselves. Maybe she’ll even get the chance to meet her mother.
They didn’t deserve to die. It should have been you.
Rumi shook the thought out of her head.
After spending a little more time scanning the mass gathered around, she felt a presence approaching her and occupying the stool right next to her. Which was strange; there were plenty of empty stools around the bar, so why did they choose to sit right next to her? She didn’t give any attention to the newcomer, thinking it was just another sad slump ready to drown themselves in liquid regret that also happened to have no social awareness skills. Rumi kept her eyes on the mob before her.
Rumi felt a small but firm grasp on her shoulder. She flinched ever so slightly, as she didn’t expect any physical contact. Her head whipped to her side, taking a peek at who wanted her attention.
A girl, when standing, probably landed at the height of her chin, was glancing up at her with wide eyes and a grin concealed by a black cloth mask that appeared a little too wide, too eager, putting Rumi on edge. Freckles poked out of the mask on her face, littering her cheeks and exposed shoulders peeking through the green flannel she wore. She wore a simple black bucket hat, its brim shading her ebony hair.
“Heyy girl, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! How are you?” The small girl looked Rumi up and down, tightening her grip slightly. The girl’s fruity perfume clouded Rumi’s nostrils and overtook the smell of cigars that lingered in the air. Rumi was about to yank the smaller girl’s grip from her shoulder and maybe even bash her head into the countertop for latching onto her like this. Until she saw a familiar group of men following right behind her. Rumi shot back toward the girl; she noticed that it wasn’t a sunny expression carved into her face, it was terror.
“Help me.” The smaller girl’s voice wavered slightly; it sounded like she was trying to hold it back, as the men stopped right behind her. Rumi gave her a slight nod as she draped her own arm across the shoulders of the girl, pulling her in closer. Rumi almost gagged at the stranger’s unfamiliar touch; she was not a fan.
“Huntress” The leader of the group of men spat out, as though the name tasted like metal in his mouth, taking a step in front of the two young girls. Rumi growled at the man in response. “Glad to see you’re here. You on tonight?”
“Yea” Rumi said in a monotone voice. She felt the girl come closer into her space. Rumi did not push back. Much to her own surprise.
“What a treat.” The man whistled maliciously, pulling up a stool next to the girls before plopping onto the cushioned seat. The man easily towered over Rumi as he sat and weighed almost twice as much as her. Most people would probably not be as curt to him as she was, but she knew her limits; he was not one. “So how do you two know each other? Since you were so eager when you saw your friend at the bar.” The man pointed between the two girls, directing his question to the slightly trembling girl as she rapidly bounced her leg up and down on the footrest of the stool. Before the other girl could answer the question asked, Rumi cut in.
“As she said, she’s a friend of mine.” Rumi played into the bit, also wanting the man to leave. “And we were actually catching up right now, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue.”
“Oh, but I’m sure you’ll get your chance to talk later, but I want to talk to her now.” He directed his attention toward the black-haired girl. “Why don’t you come with me, Cutie? Me and my friends can show you around. You could take off that mask, I bet you have such a cute smile under-.” The man spoke as he leaned in closer to the freckled girl. The smell of ash and over-applied cheap cologne invaded both girls’ nostrils as he tried to persuade the black haired girl to leave with him. She clenched even tighter into the fabric of Rumi’s jacket.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Go. Don’t make me tell you again.” Rumi was on edge, prepared to leap out of her seat at any moment. She was beyond annoyed that she had to repeat herself. The man started to shout as he stood from his seat, reaching and grabbing toward the frightened girl. Rumi shot from her chair at the man.
“Listen Bi-” The man’s movements halted once he felt a cool metallic object at his throat. Rumi stared up at him through her mask. The men behind the man tensed, ready to attack their leader’s offender at the drop of a pin.
“Watch your mouth.” Rumi hissed as she pressed the blade slightly into the rough skin until a bead of blood began to travel down the man’s neck. “Back up, now.” Rumi warned as she leaned in closer. He listened and took a step back. Rumi noticed the girl also took a step back; now she stood right beside Rumi. Letting her handle what happens next, probably due to her experience. Rumi lowered the knife slowly, not breaking eye contact with the man. The man scoffed as he rolled his tongue across his crooked teeth.
“We’ll settle this in the pit, tonight.” Rumi sheathed the blade and stuffed it back into her pants pocket in one swift motion.
“Oh, the pit?” The man chuckled, amused by the thought of Huntress wanting to fight him and being confident she could actually win. “It’s cute you think you could take me on like that.”
“We’ll finish this in there.”
“Ok then” The man leaned back, accepting the invitation to the brawl. “See you after your show then, I’ll be watching you, closely.”
“Go” She commanded, nodding in the direction of the crowd. He and his group of men left muttering insults toward the girls. The girl next to her let out a relieved sigh.
“Thank you so much! You are literally a lifesaver! They would not leave me alone.” The girl thanked Rumi as she bowed deeply toward her savior.
“Are you here by yourself?” Rumi asked, straight to the point, not even acknowledging the compliment.
“No no, I’m with, um, some friends. I just got lost, and that guy and his friends kept following me around.” The girl went on. The girl seemed extra chatty, maybe it’s a nerves thing from being stuck in that situation.
“You shouldn’t be walking around here alone. Especially if you’re new to this scene.” Rumi took a couple of bills from her wallet and placed them on the countertop for her drink as she took one last sip before leaving the empty cup and slamming it down on the chipped wood.
“How could you tell I was new around here?!” The girl asked with enthusiasm. Rumi just looked the girl up and down and said nothing. It was her bubbly personality and her lack of self-awareness when it came to her talkative nature. She stuck out like a sore thumb around here.
Rumi hoped the girl would get the hint that Rumi wasn’t much of a talker, but she only yapped more in the silence as they walked around searching for her companions. Rumi probably learned 14 new facts about sea creatures as they walked around the club. This girl just kept rambling on and on; she had a constant train of thought whirling around her head.
Rumi never told the girl to shut up, and she actually acknowledged each fact with a small, yet satisfied, hum as she looked around for her group. She didn’t know if she enjoyed the chatter or not. It seemed Rumi was wrong earlier; she really is this chatty all the time. The one time Rumi spoke to her in the five minutes was to ask if she saw anyone she knew; she did not. Rumi was scanning the area, looking to see if she saw any other newcomers or anyone who wore a worried expression or looked like they were searching each corner of the structure for their missing friend, but none so far.
“Umm. You’re not really going to fight that guy, are you?” The girl’s voice quavered, worried at the thought of the taller girl fighting a man quite literally twice her size.
“Yes, I am.” Rumi said as if it should have been a given
“What! Why? I’m so sorry! That was my mess, I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into it! You shouldn’t have to fix it for me!” The girl fretted as she pulled on the rim of her hat to cover her eyes. What a strange girl, most people would just be relieved they didn’t have to deal with that mess and be glad to push it onto someone else.
But not her.
This girl was a wonder. She seemed like an expressive girl, from how quickly her expressions and body language shifted throughout their brief time together. She was truly the only person Rumi had met who wore her heart in her sleeve as openly as she did.
“I want to. Someone needs to put him in his place. I’d rather it be me.” In all honesty, Rumi doesn’t care who humbles the freak. She just wants to use this match as another quick cash grab. Rumi didn’t really do a fight or a show in the same night, usually being done with people by the time either one finished. But she couldn’t let him get away with pestering this girl like that. Plus, more money in her pocket wouldn’t hurt.
“Are you sure? I can go and apologize and maybe-”
“I promise you, I’m sure.” Rumi examined the girl, sensing her worries. Rumi appreciated it; this was a change of pace for her, but she couldn’t tell if she enjoyed the worried feeling towards her.
“Ok. Thank you again.” The girl switched the subject at the drop of a hat, changing the tone of the conversation, “By the way, I never told you my name! Mine’s Zoey! How about yours?” Rumi was astonished at how fast her mood shifted, but before she could reply, she heard the shouting of a group of female voices nearby.
“Zoey!” A worried voice shouted from in the crowd. Rumi’s ears perked up as she noticed a girl with bright pink hair sticking out of a plain beanie and golden rimmed glasses, who also wore the same mask as the freckled girl. The pink-haired girl was probably a couple of inches taller than Rumi. She wore a long-sleeved black top with a maroon colored t-shirt layered on top with some print of a band logo.
“Mira!” Zoey responded as she ran to the taller girl, leaping into her arms for a hug. Rumi noticed three others standing behind the two girls. Each one was wearing the same dark colored hoodie to cover their faces and a mask concealing everything from their eyes and below. Rumi had never seen any of them before in the area; they don’t exactly look like they belong around there either. Rumi didn’t have time to question the newcomers and their reason for being there tonight; she had enough of her own problems.
“Who’s that?” The pink one, Mira, assuming that was her real name, scowled as she inspected Rumi, adjusting her gold rimmed glasses.
Rumi couldn’t understand how the hell the shorter girl got lost when the tallest member of her party had bright neon hair, it looked like a kid took a highlighter and scribbled into it as though it were an empty coloring page.
“She helped me! There were these creeps who would not leave me alone, but she really put them in their place! It was so cool!” Zoey beamed as she uncoiled her arms around the taller girl and gawked about the stranger. “Thank you so much again!” Zoey said with beaming eyes towards Rumi.
“Keep an eye on her tonight. I’m worried she will become a target of the freaks down here. You guys are new. Some have taken notice of that, myself included. I suggest your group doesn’t separate tonight, if you plan on staying any longer.” Rumi, once again, goes straight to the point.
“Why is that? Are you threatening us?” Mira accused through gritted teeth, as she took a few steps forward, marching like a cotton candy hurricane toward Rumi. As she approached Rumi could smell the faint waft of a cinnamon like node becoming stronger.
“Mira!” Zoey and the tallest one of the figures from behind the two girls barked simultaneously, stepping in front of them.
“I’m not threatening, I’m warning. This is a rough crowd of people. You don’t want to bark up the wrong tree around here.” Rumi warned
“We can take care of ourselves.” Mira snarled as she pushed against the figure in front of her, who was holding her back. Rumi rolled her eyes.
“Never said you couldn’t. Just be cautious, watch each other’s back.” Rumi heard the whistle of a nearby man; she turned her head to see a large, fat man holding a clipboard motioning toward the red curtain behind him. “Be safe.” Rumi turned, and just as she was about to walk off, she felt a familiar grip on her wrist.
“I’m sorry about my friend. She was just worried, I tend to wander off sometimes. But I promise she isn’t this crazy… and rude… all the time!” Zoey joked, trying to make light of their circumstance. Rumi just gave a small nod. “I also never got your name.” Zoey once again reached out and latched onto Rumi’s sleeve, peering up with her pleading eyes.
Rumi tried to find the irritation she usually felt when someone would cling to her space, but it wasn’t there. Rumi didn’t know what it was with this girl; she would never let someone else be this clingy and touchy with her. But for some reason, this girl didn’t feel like an annoyance like most other people. It was a nice change.
“Huntress” Rumi smiled softly. The reaction next was something she would not have expected. The girl’s face dropped at the groundbreaking news. It looked as if she’d been shot straight through the chest with an arrow.
“I should get going, maybe I’ll see you around.” Rumi’s smile dropped as suspicion and an uneasy feeling began to rise in her gut. Rumi pulled her hand back, taking note of the sudden switch in tone. Rumi examined the girl’s body language and face, wondering what could have prompted that reaction to hearing her name.
Do they know her, even as newcomers? Have they heard rumors of her? If so, what did they hear to prompt that?
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Rumi noticed something unusual. She saw colorful threads prancing around the smaller girl’s feet.
The barrier. It liked this girl. It was pulled to her like a moth to a flame. Rumi had never seen anything like this, with anyone.
Rumi looked past Zoey to see the same threads dancing around the riled-up pink-haired girl, though they were less vibrant, less enthusiastic. Rumi had to squint even to see them, but they were still present. Still calling her name.
“Y-yea! See ya ‘round!” Zoey stuttered as Rumi walked away briskly, not acknowledging the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her skull.
What could this mean? The only things the threads reacted to were demons, and even then, the response was always negative; the threads would flash in reddish hues and scream in pain. But these girls don’t look like demons, they don’t act like demons, they don’t speak like them.
Rumi would be able to notice, being one herself. She saw these traits in herself from time to time, but she imagined it wasn’t due to genetics but rather just how she is.
The barrier almost seemed comfortable around them as it danced around the other girls, protecting them in faint iridescent threads.
Could this explain why Rumi was the way she was with the freckled girl?
Rumi shook these thoughts out of her head. It didn’t matter. As long as they don’t start sucking the souls out of people, she didn’t care. They don’t know her, and she doesn’t know them. Rumi will make sure it stays that way.