Chapter Text
`’Phila’; Greek. A deep friendship.
Chapter 1- And so it begins, a treacherous path, forever walked alone.
Rumi was always weird.
A bit odd.
Talented in the arts.
Gifted.
Talented.
Special.
Rumi just wanted to be normal.
She was five when they first started to appear. It was in ballet. Celine had said to her; ‘it’ll be good for you. Gracefulness. Discipline. Strength within softness. You won’t understand yet, but you will soon.’ Rumi thought she understood. But Celine was always right, so she couldn’t have.
The others didn’t like to dance with her. She was the quiet one who was too good and showed off. Too stuck up, or not confident enough. She usually ate alone. She didn't mind that. Sometimes being alone was good.
It meant that she had time to think.
And, oh, did Rumi like to think.
She thought about the stars and how far away they were, she thought about the sea, and how much she loved to swim. She thought about Celine, and how much she adored her, and how much Celine seemed to love her back.
See?
She didn’t need those kids. She had her mind, her imagination.
And then the first thought hit her.
‘Don’t kid yourself. You’ll end up sad and lonely and Celine will say horrible, mean things about you.’
She didn't like that.
No, she did not like that one bit.
She found herself hugging her arms when the teacher walked up to her tutting away as she always did when anyone did something wrong.
“Look at you. You’ve drawn on yourself. You’ll have to sit out until the end, and I’ll have to tell your mother.”
Rumi didn’t like that even more.
Not because the old lady was telling Celine, but because she had called Celine her ‘mother’. She wasn’t allowed to call Celine that, so why could this lady?
And what was she even talking about?
Rumi hadn’t drawn on herself. Celine had told her before, that if she did she’d get poisoned and get very ill and end up like her mother.
Rumi didn’t want that. Celine said her mother had gone away, and couldn’t come back. She was gone. Ad Rumi didn't want to be gone.
She doesn’t know how long it took for Celine to arrive at the end, and she certainly doesn’t know why she stopped smiling as soon as she saw her.
She also doesn’t know why she was dragged home so quickly.
Her wrist hurt after that.
“Look- look at you- what happened- how did this happen- what is wrong- why couldn’t you just be normal?” Rumi didn’t know what Celine was talking about, but she was shaking and gasping and breathing too quickly and not enough at the same time, and Rumi didn’t know much at the time, but she knew that wasn’t good.
“I’m sorry.”
“Leave, demon!”
She didn’t know why Celine called her that.
Demons were bad, and evil, and ugly with their patterns.
Rumi wasn’t any of those things, and she knew that because Celine had told her so. And Celine was always right.
When she was nine, the patterns had reached her elbow.
She didn’t know why they grew.
But she knew Celine hated them, and that meant she hated them too.
Celine doesn’t look at her anymore.
There are no more hugs, and forehead kisses, there are no more bedtime stories and songs. There is no more love with Celine and Rumi.
But Rumi wanted there to be.
And so she did as he was told.
As she always had, feeling like an obedient puppy with its tail between its legs.
Celine had started to train her with weapons.
Lots of weapons, every weapon she could.
Celine didn’t care to know Rumi anymore, and so she would not know what weapon Rumi would pull from the Honmoon until it happened.
That is what Rumi had been told, and that is what she accepted.
She liked swords.
Rumi didn’t know if she was happy.
She didn’t know how to tell the difference between happy and not.
But she did know that she smiled when she felt them.
The other two.
Celine had said that the connection between the three hunters was strong, like sisterhood, but more. Like family but deeper. That was the only way she could explain it.
Rumi didn’t understand.
But she said she did.
It was always better like that.
She didn’t know the girls names, their bond wasn’t strong enough to communicate yet, not like that. But she could feel them. The pull on her heart when they were sad, the fire in her mind when they were angry, the smile that tugged on her lips when they felt close.
She loved her girls.
There was the one that felt still. Not like stone or like steel. It wasn’t an unmoving sort of stillness. It was more like a sunny day where there was a quiet breeze, barely making a sound in the leaves. It was grounding. There.
Then there was the one who was the opposite of that. She was not still, she was not calm, she was more like a raging storm, with a sunny sky. That was the only way Rumi felt she could describe her. A mix. A mystery. But it wasn’t bad like that. No. Never.
She soon learned that they could feel her too. They could feel them wondering, trying to reach out, trying to feel.
She didn’t want them to feel.
She wasn’t something worth knowing.
Something worth finding. She wasn’t even worth the bother of leaving behind.
At least, this is the conclusion she has come to at ten years old, when Celine finally told her that she was old enough to not need to celebrate. And after all, there was nothing about her worth celebrating.
And so she learned how to dim herself. Her thoughts, her mind, what she felt. It was no longer loud and bright, but dim and quiet and not really there.
It was better like this.
For everyone.
When Rumi was sixteen, she met one.
Celine had let her go out into the city to ‘have some downtime’. To try to be normal, is what she meant. Just try. Pretend.
Rumi didn’t know where she wanted to go, she didn’t know the area too well, despite living near this place all her life.
She didn’t know where she was walking or why, but she did know that she ended up in a cute looking boba shop that she didn’t even see the name of.
She took a moment to look at the menu before lining up to order.
Breathe in.
And out.
She took a moment to adjust her sleeve, before letting herself look around.
The girl in front of her had bright pink hair, and wore a black hat, a white shirt and light blue jeans.
She was pretty, from what Rumi could see of her. The girl placed her order and stepped to the side to wait, and Rumi noticed the way she glanced her way.
She gave what she thought was a small smile, but she thinks that it looked more like a gross scowl.
Whoops.
The girl looked away.
Rumi internally screamed.
She placed her own order, a special, themed after Pokemon- ‘the Eeveelutions.’
Rumi didn't know much about Pokemon, but the Espeon one looked nice enough.
Her and the girl got their drinks at the same time, and when they both reached for their respective drinks, their shoulders brushed.
And the barriers crumbled down.
And Rumi could feel the girl, and the girl could feel her, and their minds connected in a weird way that hurt and felt warm and fuzzy and happy all at the same time.
This was the still one.
She knew it was.
And then the other one came rushing in, obviously sensing the sudden change and trying to figure out what on Earth happened with the other two.
It was suddenly too loud. Rumi’s head hurt.
The girl’s hand met her own.
“Breathe.” Her voice was still and calm, as if it already knew everything and anything, past, present or future. And Rumi listened to her.
And they walked out of the shop.
And down the paths.
Through streets Rumi didn’t recognise.
Her drink chilled her hand.
Then they were inside and going upstairs, and everything was moving too quickly and Rumi didn’t know what was happening anymore.
Then a door shut and it was quiet again.
The barriers were back up.
“Explain.” The girl said.
Rumi blinked, utterly confused. She looked around, just for a second and realised they were in an apartment.
“You know, don’t you?”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “You’re the jittery one. The one who thinks too much and then too little all at the same time, and then sometimes you disappear and me and the loud one wonder where you’ve gone.”
Rumi doesn’t know what to say to that. This is mostly because it’s true, and she’s never dealt well with the truth. Rumi was a cowardly dog.
“Mira.” The girl spoke quietly.
And she finds that she’s smiling, and she doesn’t exactly know why, she doesn’t even know if she’s safe, or the way back home, or where she is, but she’s smiling because this is one of her hunters, one of her girls.
“Mira.” Rumi said back to her, the name feeling like a hug on her tongue.
“Nice to meet you, Mira. I’m Rumi.” The disuse of her family name was purposeful. She didn’t need Mira knowing who her mother was. Not yet.
She looked down at her hand, seeing she was still holding her drink.
“Maybe we should sit down and talk?”
They sat on the couch, and oh, Rumi has never been more comfortable.
She noticed the girl, Mira, had gotten a similar drink to hers, another special, an ‘Umbreon special drink’. She smiled even more at that. She didn’t know why. She seemed to like smiling today.
“So.”
Mira met her eyes.
“You know.”
Rumi nodded. She did know. She knew all about the Honmoon, and the connections to her girls, and what they were supposed to become, what she was supposed to be. She was raised on stories of past hunters.
“Then explain.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I can literally feel your emotions and your mind, I already think you’re crazy, but so am I, so explain and then we’ll both be crazy together.”
Rumi liked that idea.
Quietly going insane, day after day, holding on to what little sense of time and reality was left, but having her by her side so that the days felt a little less gruelling. This would probably never happen. Mostly because Rumi already felt insane, so going insane was no longer possible for her.
“Okay.”
And so she begins her explanation.
She tells Mira the story of demons, of how the first hunters came to defeat them, of how their voices, singing together, made a magical barrier that protected the world. She told her of the many generations of hunters that have been, and what their duty was. She spoke as if she knew how Mira would react, and had just accepted it, but Mira’s face never changed and never dropped from Rumi’s.
She told Mira everything she could. But not about her.
And when she was done, Mira stood up, holding her empty cup, and walked away into her kitchen.
Rumi didn’t know what to do.
She stood, and began to leave, before Mira’s voice rang out through the apartment.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Rumi had been about to open the door. Her hand rested on the handle. And then she let go, and turned around, and smiled a bright smile.
“If that’s not too much trouble, Mira.” she called back, before returning to her spot on the couch, as if trying to act as if she had never moved.
It wasn’t long before Mira emerged, holding two bowls of noodles.
“I hope you enjoy it.”
They ate in silence.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, the air wasn’t tight, but it was still and Rumi remained wary and anxious, as she always did.
She ought to tell Celine about Mira.
She should, she really should.
But she didn’t want to. She liked the idea of hiding Mira from her, having this friendship that was unmonitored by Celine’s strict and watchful gaze.
She wanted a secret.
She wanted to be able to love without Celine’s watch.
Without judgement.
She won’t tell Celine.
Just for now.
“There’s one more, isn’t there?”
Rumi nodded.
“Yeah. We’ll find her. One day.”
Mira nodded.
Rumi’s eyes scanned over Mira as she ate.
The soft look of her skin, the way her eyes moved around, always showing what she was thinking, and she always looked like she was thinking. All her movements seemed purposeful and precise, like she knew what she was doing and what it would cause to happen after. The only thing that Mira didn’t seem to expect was Rumi’s gaze watching her when their eyes met yet again.
Rumi’s face flushed, embarrassed at being caught staring, and Mira looked away again.
And then, unexpectedly, Rumi started to laugh.
Now, Rumi doesn’t laugh much. After all, there was nothing around her that was ever worth finding funny. It was all strict and boring and dull, just how Celine liked it. She can’t remember the last time she properly laughed.
But she was laughing now.
And she didn’t even know why.
Mira stared at her, dumbfounded, before her own lips started to curl up into a smile, and she started to laugh too.
They stayed like that for a while, gasping for air with every breath. Eventually, Rumi tried to grip the corner of the couch to give herself some stability, hoping to calm herself, but her hand missed and she rolled onto her side, on top of Mira.
They stopped laughing quickly.
Rumi didn’t know what was happening.
It was quiet now.
Their faces leaned closer, and their eyes met. Mira’s gaze had something behind it, something that was unfamiliar to Rumi.
*Buzz*
Celine: Rumi, come home, now. You’re missing your training.
Rumi leaned back, away from Mira and checked her phone.
Her legs spray her upwards before she could even process anything in her mind.
“Gotta go-”
Mira grabbed her wrist, just as she was about to sprint for the door.
Her phone was suddenly out of her hand and in Mira’s, as the pink haired girl types something frantically, before handing back the device.
“Now we can talk properly.”
Rumi smiled, and she kept smiling when she left.
A few months into knowing Mira was when they met the other.
Rumi still hadn’t introduced Mira to Celine, and she certainly hasn’t told Mira about Celine and her training.
She wasn’t ready for that yet.
An older dog, but still as naive as ever, never learning, never understanding.
Stupid dog.
Mira was walking by her side.
This is how they often were when they met up, being close friends now.
“All I’m saying is that if you can’t handle spicy food, you don’t have to pretend that you can-”
Rumi was about to protest Mira’s statement when she walked right into someone, and both she and the stranger fell to the ground, Mira looking down at them, completely concerned.
The person cursed in English, before rushing a quick apology to Rumi as the girl stood up and offered her a hand.
Rumi sighed, but smiled nonetheless. It was always better to be friendly, rather than hold grudges. After all, she wasn’t being very perceptive when they collided.
“It’s alright.” she smiled, and took the girl's hand, before they both froze.
Their eyes met.
“You’re her.”
The girl’s voice was sweet and quiet, and her eyes had now lit up to be filled with a sort of bright curiosity.
Rumi looked at her properly now, seeing her black hair, tied into messy space buns, her green jacket and turtle t-shirt.
“You’re the noisy one.” Rumi replied, not quite aware of how rude that sounded.
“Sorry, what-?” Mira’s voice snapped them both out of their trance-like state.
“Mira, this is her.”
“How are you sure?” Mira’s voice was suspicious and questioning. She seemed to be rather distrustful to almost everyone, except Rumi of course.
“I’m sure the way we were sure when we met.” Rumi retorted.
“This girl is just another American-”
“I have a name, and I’m half Korean, thanks.” The girl's voice snapped at both of them.
Rumi looked at her again.
“And what is your name then?” Mira’s voice was still accusatory.
“Zoey. I’m Zoey,.”
Rumi smiled. “Nice to meet you, Zoey. I’m Rumi, and this is Mira. We have a lot to talk about.”
Rumi knew the two would have to meet Celine soon. And they would.
But right now, she was the one training them. Not with strict words and harsh tones like Celine did, but the way she wished she had been taught. Calmly. Gently.
They were doing well.
Too well.
Which is why Rumi should have seen it coming when they followed her home.
When they saw Celine.
When Zoey ran up to her and grabbed her while she held her weapon that she had pulled from the Honmoon, and why Mira started to yell and why Celine stared, completely baffled.
Rumi just backed away, like the scared dog she was.
And Celine took over.
And Celine made everything better.
Celine explained to them calmly.
But she knew Celine was disappointed in her.
She so very often was.
They calmed down.
Eventually.
But they were still mad, and it showed. They avoided eye contact, shuffled away if she stood close, kept conversation quick and light.
It hurt.
A lot.
They were all training with Celine now, learning how to master their skills and eventually pull their weapons out of the Honmoon.
Celine communicated with both of their guardians of course, but all the details of that sort of thing were spared when Rumi was around. They seemed more secretive now.
Rumi had separate training sessions, unless Celine specifically stated otherwise. She was ‘too advanced’. After all, she was the only one who could pull her weapon from the Honmoon, and what she herself has taught her friends could not be but a fraction of what she knows.
She wished she could keep them from this life, a life that never stops moving, but they forced their way into it, and the exit closed behind them.
They didn’t go out to their favourite boba place anymore.
Well, they did, but not with Rumi.
She didn’t know what to do.
She was a dumb dog.
She missed them, even though they were still there.
It’s been a week, a week like this, and it’s not changing, and Rumi can’t change it, and she wishes she could but she can’t.
And it was late in the evening and Rumi had been crying, which she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. It was quiet, it was quiet until she heard this sound that sounded like Zoey screaming this high pitched, desperate scream from the training field outside.
And of course, as the fates had it, Celine was away for business.
And that was why Rumi was now jumping out of her window in the evening, adrenaline hitting her like a wave, scenarios of what could have happened playing through her mind faster than she could reason with them.
She found Zoey, pushed to the ground under the tree, a deep bruise forming on her uncovered left arm.
And then she saw Mira, being held by that massive, red, brutal demon.
Rumi has never felt more hate for anything in her life.
After all, how could someone, something, even think about hurting someone so wonderful as Mira, or Zoey.
And she didn’t think..
She didn’t process.
She barely breathed.
She felt violent and rabid and dangerous.
Teeth bared and lunging forwards.
The demon soon lay in the ground before her, its hands- claws- gripping the dirt and the grass, as if that would cure the fear that plagued from the sight of Rumi now.
She summoned her sword, feeling the calm waves of the Honmoon under her fingertips.
And then it was gone, in a burst of shimmering dust, as if it were from a child’s fairy tale.
Someone hugged her.
She nearly fought them off, her mind still blurry with hatred.
But she didn’t. Because she recognised these arms and this scent.
It was Zoey.
Zoey, who was kind and gentle and warm.
Zoey, who had guessed her favourite colour on the first try, when she exclaimed ‘pink’.
She didn’t have a favourite colour before then. In fact, pink was probably one she would never have liked, had it not been for Zoey. But after that, she could only see pink in a soft, gentle light, one that warmed her soul.
So no, she didn’t fight or struggle.
She breathed in this warmness and relished in the scent.
She smiled when a second pair of arms joined them, ones that were longer, and came from someone who was taller, and stiffer.
She welcomed them none the less.
“Rumi. That was dangerous, and stupid, and you shouldn’t have done that”.
“I would risk everything to save you two.”
Her response to Mira’s words was soft and whispered. It was true.
“You could have died!” Zoey’s voice was almost pleading.
“This is what we train for.”
She knows she could have died. But perhaps when she was dead and buried next to her mother, if Celine was gracious enough to gift her that mercy, the worms would eat her heart and taste their soft words, perhaps they’ll feel from it how kind they were.
They just hugged her tighter.
Things were better after that night.
For now.
Their training was over now.
Celine had held an official ceremony that was supposed to officially connect them to the Honmoon, and the hunters of the past. It didn’t feel like that.
They had debuted a few months ago, and their fanbase was already huge, especially taking their clear awkwardness and anxiety during all of the interviews into account.
Ah, well, that didn’t matter now.
Celine had deemed them responsible enough to live on their own in an apartment now.
She was as thankful for that as she was anxious, having never lived away from Celine. But she knew it would be fine, after all, she had her girl.
Her girls that she had discovered to be nothing but wonderful, brave, intelligent, humorous, loyal, generous, honest, and kind human beings, who just seemed to be full of love and hope.
They were Rumi’s sun and stars.
And they burned so brightly, that she sometimes felt like nothing but a small moon, drifting next to them, only reflecting their light, with no ability to generate her own light.
After all, the moon is nothing interesting really. Just a big rock. Not even that. Compared to the Earth, it was a very small rock.
Yes.
That’s how Rumi felt.
Their first real fight didn’t take long.
Living together had proved to be a challenge, but they had been living together with Celine now for years. Maybe that was it. Maybe Celine was the meditator in all tension, and now that she wasn’t always there, things start to fall into mass disarray.
Mira hadn’t started it.
Nor had Zoey.
Rumi did.
Rumi was the problem here.
Rumi was the problem because she had refused so angrily when they suggested going to the bath house.
She had been so angry, but that was just because she was scared.
Defensive.
After all, a frightened dog is a dangerous dog.
She had started to run.
She always ran when these sorts of things happened.
But she never had expected the other two to follow.
After all, no one had before, not ever.
Maybe that’s why they ran out onto the roof, right after her, nothing but pure fear in their eyes- fear for her. They were worried about her and she was still so angry at them.
They caught her and grabbed her, their eyes digging into her like a snare trap she was caught in, and she turned, snarling and spiteful, her words like a bite, words she can not remember, though maybe that is for the best.
They had tried to reason with her at first, but when Rumi refuted their calm tones too many times, Mira bit back.
And Rumi no longer looked like a dog.
But a savage wolf. Something not tame, something that was never meant to be kept like this, not by anyone.
Rumi was not a dog.
But she was not a wolf.
She was that mix of both of them that left her as a horrible mistake, made her head spin with confusion and her actions never her own.
A wolf-dog was never meant to be.
Dogs were tame and domestic and quiet, and they tucked their tails between their legs when things went wrong.
Wolves were wild and angry and mean and bad, and they were all the things Rumi never wanted to be, but here she was, looking like something beastly as this.
And she bit again.
And scratched.
And snarled and lunged and then she hurt them.
And there has still yet to be discovered, a pain worse than what she felt then, when she hurt those two wonderful girls.
It’s been a few days.
Rumi hasn’t been home.
She’s visited Celine, so as to not cause concern, but Celine had promised she would not tell the others.
Celine may be cruel, but there are times where she can be something that resembles a shadow of kindness.
They found her soon.
She didn’t ask how.
But the walk home was filled with that warm silence.