Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Of all the people who had learned about Rumi’s Patterns in the past few weeks, Rumi hadn’t expected it to be the demons who would treat her most differently for it.
The horde was small but feisty, and had not wasted time in launching their attack the instant their targets had exited the bathhouse into the alley outside. It had caught all three of the hunters off guard, but they were trained for this. Rumi had been the first to summon her weapon, blocking a set of gnarled claws with the flat side of her sword. It was then that the demon had hesitated. A pair of yellow eyes grew wide as they took in their opponent. Rumi traced the gaze up and down her own frame. She knew exactly what the demon was looking at.
The jagged, striped Patterns that ran up and down the demon’s arms and legs were the same Patterns that covered Rumi’s entire body. A look of relief washed over the demon’s face, the creature clearly thinking it was about to be spared. Rumi couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. Maybe the demon would’ve been right in his assumption had he not literally just tried to kill Rumi and her friends.
Rumi winked at the demon before slicing him in half, his body dissolving instantly into a cloud of red dust. She took down the next two demons that approached her with practiced ease, smirk still playing on her lips. This was easy work after what she’d just been through. With demons dropping like flies around her, at this rate, Rumi would be home in time for dinner.
Then, there was a scream. Rumi’s stomach dropped. She whirled around just in time to see a mass of long limbs and pink hair collapse to the ground. A gigantic purple demon stood, towering over the fallen hunter.
“Mira!” Rumi shrieked. She launched herself at the demon, promptly chopping his head off, crumpling to the ground beside her friend before the red dust even cleared from the air.
The relief Rumi felt when she realized Mira was still breathing was quite possibly the best feeling she’d ever felt.
“Mira, where does it hurt?” Rumi stumbled over her words. She was talking too fast, shaking too hard to even feign coherence. Her hands reached desperately for Mira, tracing the air around her, terrified to cause further harm. A loud, heaving sob broke free from Mira’s throat, and it did nothing to ease Rumi’s fears.
Running footsteps came up behind Rumi, a third, smaller frame dropping to her knees beside her teammates.
“Fuck, Mira, oh my God,” Zoey cried. “Mira, please, oh my God, please be okay!”
Finally, Mira looked up, and Rumi’s heart twisted in her chest. She had known Mira for more than six years and had never seen her like this. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, snot dripping off the tip of her nose, her whole body trembling like a leaf. The long handle of her weapon was gripped so tightly in her fists that her hands were turning blue. Rumi was halfway through using what little sanity she had left to figure out how to safely transport Mira’s obviously injured body when, suddenly, she was being attacked again.
No, wait. Not attacked. Hugged.
To Rumi’s absolute shock, Mira had thrown herself around her, white knuckles now clenched firmly onto Rumi’s body instead of around her Gokdo. Where a moment ago there had been nothing but terror, Rumi’s mind went blank. Without her brain’s permission, her arms had responded, hugging Mira back just as fervently. Heavy sobs continued to heave out of Mira’s body for several more minutes, and Rumi held her through each and every one.
Rumi wasn’t sure how long it was before Mira finally spoke.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Mira said hoarsely.
“You can’t do what, Mira?” Zoey questioned. Her voice was shaking just as much as both Rumi and Mira were.
Mira shook her head. “I can’t kill them. I can’t kill them anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
“They were attacking us,” Zoey pointed out. “They were trying to kill us. Where are you hurt, Mira?”
“Not hurt,” said Mira. “Doesn’t matter.”
Zoey paused. “What?”
“I thought I would be okay, but I can’t,” Mira admitted. “I saw the Patterns, and I just…”
Mira trailed off, a sharp, ragged breath tearing out of her. One of her hands detached from Rumi, but only so that it could find its way to her face. Rumi let her head be gently raised, her eyes suddenly meeting Mira’s.
“I just saw you,” said Mira. “Not…obviously not you you, but…any one of them…any one of them could be like you. At the Idol Awards, I didn’t think it was really you, but that doesn’t even matter, because it’s all wrong either way. She told us all demons are evil, but they aren’t, they aren’t! It doesn’t matter if they’re trying to kill us! I can’t…I can’t just kill them anymore!”
The alleyway fell quiet, filled only by Mira’s continued sobs and Rumi’s own racing heartbeat.
“Okay, Mira,” Rumi breathed out. “It’ll be okay, I promise.” Her eyes were still locked on Mira’s. She thought maybe Zoey said something, then, but whatever it was didn’t quite register.
Mira blinked, her breathing finally seeming to steady ever so slightly.
“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Rumi brushed away a strand of hair that was tear-glued to Mira’s face. “It’s okay, Mira. We’ll find a way.”
CHAPTER 1
“Mira? Zoey? Are you two still awake?”
Rumi wasn’t sure how long she had been locked in her bathroom, but it had been long enough for a rainstorm to come and go, the balcony off her bedroom drenched with its aftermath. It was night, Rumi knew that much. Seoul was still covered by clouds, but light was streaming through the windows; not the moon, but the Honmoon. It glistened softly, its pastel colors painting Rumi’s bedroom in soft rainbow. Even after three months, Rumi could not help but smile whenever she looked at it. The Honmoon was perhaps the most consistent thing in Rumi’s life. It was always there, always listening, always watching, though not always a source of comfort or pride to her, as it now was. As a demon hunter, Rumi was privy to parts of the world that most people were not. The Honmoon and its shimmering glow, the demons it kept away from the mortal world…and the demons it didn’t. Glancing down at her arms, Rumi realized that it was not the Honmoon keeping her darkened bedroom alight so much as it was herself. It was still jarring, sometimes, to see the markings that now covered her entire body, her Patterns. The iridescent stripes snaked across each limb, contrasting her pale skin, framing her dark brown eyes. And now, sometimes, they glowed. Rumi watched as they shifted in color, matching their shade to the Honmoon, as though engaged in a sort of dance with it. If Rumi hadn’t seen it happen herself, she almost wouldn’t believe that the Patterns she had now were the same ones she had had three months ago. Maybe they weren’t, really, considering Rumi did not particularly feel like the same Rumi she was three months ago. Past Rumi would never have let her Patterns light up a room, would never have been holding the same scissors that she held in her hand right now, and certainly never would have called out to her two best friends in the middle of the night.
“Yeah, Rumi, what’s up?” she heard a voice call back to her. Bubbly, vibrant, energetic even at this late an hour. Zoey.
“You okay, Rumi? I thought you’d gone to sleep,” another voice added. Lower, smoother, softer. The kind of voice that could make a room feel ten degrees hotter. Mira.
“I’m fine,” Rumi replied. “But, well…I kind of…” she laughs anxiously. “I think I need a little help.”
Rumi heard footsteps coming towards her immediately.
“Are your Patterns keeping you awake again?” Zoey asked, her voice growing closer. “Because I was thinking, y’know how they make blackout curtains? Maybe we could make, like, a blackout blanket? Something you could use when your skin decides to do a lights show at 3AM and keep you awake. I don’t know how you do it, Rumi. I seriously need total darkness to sleep, or else-“
Zoey was not often rendered speechless, but it seemed that Rumi’s current predicament was just the thing to do it. The shorter girl’s mouth was agape, in the middle of a syllable that would certainly never be finished. Her jaw closed, then opened again, as though perhaps she was trying to say something, but no sound came out apart from a tiny, high-pitched squeak. Rumi thought perhaps Zoey might have been frozen there forever if not for Mira, turning the corner into Rumi’s doorway and smacking right into Zoey’s back.
“Ow, Zoey, what the-“ Mira began to say, before the sight of Rumi cut her off as well, her eyes widening behind the frames of her glasses.
“Rumi, your hair,” stated Mira. “You cut your hair!”
Rumi gave an awkward smile, fidgeting with the scissors in her hand. “I just can’t seem to get it even in the back, though. Is it bad?”
Zoey let out another squeak.
Mira shook her head. “Of course it isn’t bad,” she said. She walks over to Rumi, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Can I help?”
Rumi nodded gratefully, handing Mira the scissors as though they could catch fire at any second.
“C’mon,” said Mira, gesturing for Rumi to follow her as she headed into the ensuite bathroom. Rumi could hear Zoey’s quick footsteps close behind.
“Holy shit,” Zoey gasped, finally finding her words. She squatted down, lifting a long strand of thick, lavender hair from off the bathroom floor. “Rumi, this is, like, half your hair.”
“Yet it’s still nearly as long as mine,” Mira noted, swishing her own waist-length hair over her shoulder. “And three times as thick.”
“Impossibly thick, ridiculously long, naturally purple,” Zoey listed off, a hint of devastation in her voice as she sifted through the piles of cut-off hair. “Basically every girl’s dream, which leads me to my question of why the hell would you cut it?”
Rumi heard Mira chuckle softly from where she stood behind her now, brushing through Rumi’s hair. “Dude, do you know how heavy that must’ve been for her?” Mira pointed out. “Plus how hot it must’ve gotten in the summer, and onstage?And the upkeep? No wonder you always kept it braided up, Rumi.”
Nervously, Rumi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a piece of the face-framing layers she had tried to create. “I can confirm all of that,” she said. “I just felt like…I don’t know…I needed this. It was time.”
There was a moment of silence, save for the sound of the scissors in Mira’s hands as she trimmed off the uneven ends of Rumi’s hair. The three of them knew, without words, the deeper meaning of Rumi’s haircut. What it truly meant. The past it released The growth it symbolized.
“I guess I did read online that hair holds memories,” reasoned Zoey. “All of that hair would’ve been from before HUNTR/X.”
“Yeah, from before you met us,” Mira added softly.
Rumi smiled, relaxing just a little. “Exactly,” she said playfully. “Why would I want to remember a time without you two?”
In the moment, it’s light, perhaps a joke to an untrained ear. For Rumi, it is also the truth. A life without Zoey and Mira…Rumi did not want to imagine such a thing. The lighting in the bathroom dimmed; Rumi’s Patterns changing hues to a less luminous shade.
“You know we feel the same way,” Zoey said, frowning at Rumi’s shifting Patterns. Rumi winced at her changing reflection in the mirror. After three months of watching Rumi’s Patterns respond to her emotions, both Zoey and Mira were rather prolific at deciphering what their various colors meant. To them, it was perhaps a useful tool they could use to help their friend feel better in times of need. To Rumi…well, she was still figuring out how she felt about it.
“I think I’ve got the length evened out,” Mira said, squatting to check Rumi’s hair from every angle. “Do you want me to put layers in it?”
Rumi nodded. “I tried to cut layers,” she said, sheepishly. “Especially around my face…I was following some tutorial online, but I don’t think I did it right.”
From behind her, Mira met Rumi’s gaze in the mirror. She hummed thoughtfully. “Turn around?”
Rumi did so, and was met with Mira’s face just inches from her own. Mira carefully inspected Rumi’s hair.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said. Her warm breath on Rumi’s face made Rumi’s cheeks flush. “You did good with the layers, Rumi. Just a few adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”
Mira gently untucked the shorter strands of hair from behind Rumi’s ears, pulling them out in front of Rumi’s face and obstructing her view. Though she couldn’t really see it, Rumi definitely felt it when Mira moved closer still.
“I’m going to cut the shortest pieces to your collarbones, okay?” questioned Mira.
“Whatever you think will look best,” Rumi mumbled from under her hair. She heard Mira chuckle softly, her fingertips ghosting along Rumi’s collarbones as she measured out how much hair she needed to take off.
“I wish we could donate all of this,” Zoey said, still holding handfuls of Rumi’s cut hair, stroking it enviously. “But no hair donation charity would believe this isn’t dyed. Would it be weird if I had it made into extensions just for myself?”
“Yes, Zoey, it would,” answered Mira. “Besides, you just cut your hair, and it looks sick. You want to change it again already?”
Zoey sighed, dropping Rumi’s hair back onto the tile in mock defeat. “Mira, you just don’t understand. It’s naturally purple. It grows out of her head that color! No dye! I literally lost half my hair trying to dye it in high school!”
“Amazing picture to put into my head right when I need to redo my roots,” Mira said sarcastically, eyeing her own dark regrowth in the mirror. “Although I’d probably look epic with a shaved head.”
“Hey, you can’t copy my look!” Zoey gasped.
“You only shaved the sides of yours,” Mira pointed out. “I’m talking full send.”
Zoey scoffed. “Fine. Maybe I’ll do it for you in your sleep.”
Rumi felt Mira turn away from her. “Zoey, I will kill you. That is a threat. I will kill you so, so hard. Do not even joke about that.”
“Okay, okay!” Zoey said, raising her hands in surrender. “I yield!”
Satisfied, Mira returned to her work on Rumi’s hair, cutting with careful precision. It was only another minute before Rumi heard Mira set the scissors down on the counter by the sink.
“I think we’re done here,” Mira said. Rumi blinked, her hair finally being pushed out of her face by Mira’s gentle hands. Mira smiled, admiring her handiwork, and Rumi couldn’t help but smile back. A real, true smile from Mira was rare, though becoming more common in recent months, and Rumi reveled in it. After all they had been through, together and individually, seeing her friend happy gave Rumi a high like nothing else.
“You gonna take a look, or?” Mira questioned.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Rumi. She turned to face the mirror.
It was not her new haircut that left Rumi stunned, nor was it the Patterns on her skin that she was still getting used to. Despite the significant changes to her physical appearance, it was the expression on Rumi’s own face that surprised her. The sight of herself with her jaw unclenched, her brows not furrowed, her eyes clear and bright, with nothing festering just below the surface…
“I look…kind of good,” Rumi said, swiveling around to check her hair from all sides.
“Well, duh,” said Zoey, grinning as she finally jumped up from her spot on the floor to join Rumi looking in the mirror. “We’re only the three hottest bitches in all of Korea! No, scratch that, in all of the whole world!”
Zoey struck a dramatic pose, slinging one arm around Rumi and throwing up a peace sign with the other. “C’mon, Mira, get in here!”
Mira rolled her eyes, still smiling as she stepped towards the mirror on the other side of Rumi. Zoey cheered. “Yeah, Rumi sandwich!” Zoey cried, still holding her pose. “Someone take a picture, this moment must be documented!”
It was Mira who pulled out her phone, aiming the camera so it captured all three of their reflections. With each click of the digital shutters, Zoey changed poses, each one more dramatic than the last. Rumi found herself giggling uncontrollably.
“Okay, okay,” Mira said, stopping Zoey before she could climb up onto the counter. “Zoey, let me get some of just Rumi now.”
Rumi blinked, shooting Mira a confused look. “Huh? Why?”
Mira shrugged. “You look happy, is all,” she explained. “I just really…it’s really nice to see you happy, Rumi. Plus the haircut, obviously. I need to document my work.”
If Rumi didn’t know better, she would’ve thought maybe Mira was blushing. Her skin looked as though it had turned pink, even with the contrast of her hair. No, wait. It wasn’t Mira that had turned pink. It was Rumi. She looked down, embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she realized that her Patterns had shifted colors, casting a light pink glow over the bathroom.
“Woah, Rumi, I’ve never seen your Patterns that color before,” gasped Zoey excitedly. “I wonder what it means! We know that dark purple or red means you’re scared, blue means you’re sad, and that you do the whole rainbow- shimmery-type-thing when you’re super happy or content, but I wonder-“
“I’ve seen them pink before,” Mira cut Zoey off. Her eyebrows twitched, as though maybe she had been going to furrow them before thinking better of it.
“What? When?” asked Zoey. “We’re literally always together, except, like, when we’re sleeping.”
Mira cleared her throat. “I don’t remember.”
“Mira, I love my hair,” Rumi turned to her friend, eager to change the subject away from her glowing Patterns. “Thank you for helping. It would’ve been disastrous without you.”
“You should probably let our stylists touch it up,” said Mira. “I’m no professional, my only experience was giving myself a bunch of shitty haircuts and dye jobs as a teenager.”
Rumi shook her head. “It’s perfect,” she said firmly.
For a split second, Mira looked away, her smile threatening to grow too bright for her own liking. “If you say so,” she conceded. “You know, Rumi, I mean it when I say it’s nice to see you happy. You deserve it.”
“Absolutely,” agreed Zoey, putting a hand on Rumi’s shoulder.
“We all do,” Rumi amended. “And I’m really glad we get to do it together.” She reached out, offering a hand to each of her friends, both of whom took it.
Outside, the Honmoon glistened. It was a construction that thrived on harmony, and tonight, its Hunters were protecting it well.