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Chapter Text

The first time Rumi encountered the Hunter she was 11 years old.

(This is a lie. The first time she met the Hunter she was but a few moments old, still covered in blood and viscera from her mother, screaming her lungs out but quieting when she was held, so, so tenderly.

Both of her parents and aunts were there, united for the last time.

But it is Celine who held her first, brushing strands of purple hair out of her face.

You'll have to forgive the lie, she does not know the truth and will not for many years.)

She was lying on a roof, watching demons crawl through a breach in the Honmoon in the alley bellow, Jinu at her side, both of them waiting, for what she wasn't sure.

Her claws itched, the residual ache from tearing the Honmoon, that soul deep ache she got when ever she grabbed the strings with the intent to damage still singing through her veins.

"Why are we still here?" Rumi asked her brother. She wanted to leave, to go back home.

Not that it felt much like home since Dad had turned to ash in the wind.

"Shh," Jinu responded, narrowing his cat-like eyes. Neither one of them were bothering with glamors, patterns exposed to the world. "We're testing something."

"Testing what?" A touch of a whine bled into Rumi's voice, but she didn't care. She was cold. She was tired. She was in pain.

(She was an 11-year-old who had just been forced to damage something her soul was tied to, not that she knew this.)

A glowing weapon slashed through the air, bisecting a demon midway through the breach.

"That."

Rumi made to stand, trying to get a better view of whoever was wielding that weapon, a weapon which made her soul sit up straight, hello old friend, I have missed you but Jinu pressed a hand against her right shoulder, (not her left, never her left, still covered in blisters and burns, cracking and weeping, a reminder, a warning) pinning her to the roof.

"Don't move," He hissed in her ear. "We're just supposed to observe and report back to Gwi-Ma."

Jinu lessened his grip on Rumi, allowing her to lean towards the edge of the roof.

In the alley, a woman holding two sickles, blades arced like crescent moons, shining like starlight, moved to a dance of death. She tore through demons, red ash dust hanging in her wake.

The breach knitted itself closed as she sang, a haunting song, a beautiful song that Rumi wanted to last forever.

The blade swung down a final time, cleaving the head from a water demon, a final rattle exiting his lungs, and the Hunter, because she could not be anything but, paused, crouching down to trace her fingers over the breach.

"Come on," Jinu whispered. "While she's distracted."

Rumi nodded, slinking away from the roof's edge. Tiles skittered under her feet, disturbing pebbles.

The Hunter looked up, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of them.

"Run!" Jinu yelled, yanking Rumi to her feet.

If he had been with anyone else, he surely would have just teleported away.

But Rumi, weak, half-breed, poison to everyone, got her own father killed wasn't good at teleporting.

So they ran, sprinting away from the Hunter Rumi had heard so many stories about from Dad, running for their lives.

Hi Aunt Celine, Rumi thought as they forced their way through a weakened patch of the Honmoon. It's nice to meet you.

~~~~

Celine doesn't know this, but the second (third) time she encountered Rumi, her niece was 12 years old.

(Her birthday passed in the hot summer months, uncelebrated. She does know this. She spent the day by Miyeong's grave, weeping for the family she lost.)

It was a normal fight.

Well, as normal as fights got those days.

Hunters were not meant to be solitary creatures, yet Celine had shouldered that burden for over a decade, parts of her soul torn away.

Red dust clung to her shirt, sickles tearing through clusters of Faceless demons, forms disintegrating into nothingness.

Then, movement, above her.

Decades of training guided Celine's hand, weapon flying through the air, lodging itself in the demon perched in the rafters of the warehouse the rift had formed in.

A startled gasp rang out, echoing around the empty space as red dust filtered down.

Two sets of glowing eyes stared back from the darkness, an unearthly yellow.

Suddenly, both of them were moving, leaping across rafters, heading towards the skylight.

(Later, this would tug at Celine's mind. Demons never ran from the chance to attack a Hunter. So why did these two?)

Another sickle formed in Celine's hand. The weapons were not made to be thrown, but there was no way she would be able to reach the rafters before they escaped.

The sickle flew across the warehouse, glowing briefly illuminating the rafters.

The smaller demon yanked the larger one out of it's path, scoring a line through its shoulders instead of puncturing its lung.

"Jinu!" The smaller one yelped, its voice high and panicked.

"I'm fine, we need to go." The larger one rammed open the skylight, dying sunlight sharpening its features. "Come on!"

The smaller demon stepped into the fading rays of dusk and Celine had to bite back a gasp of her own.

Purple hair, yellow eyes, baby fat clinging to its cheeks, patterns twisting across its face like scratch marks.

How dare they.

How dare they use the form of her dead niece against her.

Celine snarled, a new sickle flying towards the imposter.

HOW DARE THEY!

(Wait, the Honmoon pleaded. Don't do this, not to her, please, not one of mine even if she is lost. I can not lose another.

Celine wouldn't hear this. She would only feel the tear against her soul.

If only she wasn't used to living with that pain already.

Rumi, however, nearly fell off the rafters, a sense of wrongness permeating her very being, sickle missing her skull by inches.)

The weapon clattered uselessly against the wall, demons slipping into the evening.

Tears stung at the edges of Celine's eyes, breath ragged at the edges.

Truth be told Celine had been waiting for Gwi-Ma to weaponize her lost family against her for years.

But bracing for it didn't make the sight any easier.

Next time I see it, I will make sure it regrets ever using Rumi against me. Celine vowed.

(If Celine fell asleep against Miyeong's headstone that night, bottle of soju in hand, tear streaks on her face, well. No one needs to know.)

~~~~

Time was hard to keep track of in the demon realm.

There was no sun, no moon, no stars. Nothing to denote the passing of days.

It wasn't uncommon for Rumi to enter the human realm, bracing for a scorching sun, only to be met with an expanse of stars overhead.

Like now.

They were out of bandages, the stock she, Jinu, and Dad had managed to pull together finally depleted.

Burns took a lot of treatment, desperately trying to keep the injury covered, stave off infection, Dad was the one who first aid, not herself and Jinu, why was he ash not her?

But she needed to get more and the demons Dad they had bargained with previously weren't extending her the same courtesy.

So, 24 hour convenience store in the human realm.

Rumi double checked her glamor was still holding strong; round ears, brown eyes, no patterns, and pushed open the door.

The shopkeeper glanced up, eyebrows knitting together at the sight of Rumi.

Shit. Humans were always weird about her being alone, she had to do this quickly.

Rumi scanned the medical isle, feeling the worker's eyes on her.

A decrepit television flickered in the corner, displaying an interview that Rumi only distantly payed attention to.

Bandages, burn cream, and antibacterial found their way into Rumi's grasp.

No painkillers, the stuff you could buy never worked on demons.

The worker was still watching Rumi when she approached the counter. If she had been able to slip in unnoticed she might have tried teleporting out. But her power of persuasion wasn't good enough to make someone forget her entirely.

So, tapping into the rapidly dwindling funds Dad had left they still had.

"Find everything you needed?" The worker asked, studying Rumi's face.

Wordlessly she nodded, wanting out of here, wanting to get back to Jinu, to some semblance of safety.

The TV changed, displaying a clip of a concert featuring three women she knew like her own face.

Mom, Aunt Celine, and Aunt Sarang.

Seeing them as they were, not what they had become, two corpses buried on holy grounds Rumi would surly never set foot on and an lone Hunter, bearing the weight of protecting the world on her own, made her freeze.

If not for you, they would still be here. Parasite, only good for causing pain, born cursed.

The worker followed Rumi's gaze. "You a Sunlight Sisters fan?"

"Yeah," Rumi felt herself respond, not tearing her eyes away from the screen.

"Me too," The worker continued on idly, "I grew up listening to them."

Same here. Rumi thought, Celine's smile, wild and carefree, nothing like what she looked like now pinned her in place.

The conversation sputtered as Rumi continued to stare at the people who might have been her family.

Rumi paid for the medical supplies, ducking out of the store into the bitter night, anything to escape that feeling.

"You deserve this. You deserve to know your life has brought nothing but pain."

I know.

"Good."

"Don't you ever forget it."

~~~~

Fall was settling in the air the next time Celine encountered Rumi.

A subway tunnel, unevenly lit, magenta arcing from damaged sections of the Honmoon.

Demons flooding into the human realm, Faceless bodies contorting unnaturally, lesser demons shrieking with laughter as they clawed their way through.

A lone head of purple hair, a mockery, a disgrace, claws digging into the Honmoon, shredding through it like paper.

Rage sparked in Celine. How dare it. Wearing that face, destroying generations of work.

Sickles formed in her hands, the demon closest to her turning to dust.

The impostor ignored her, widening the tear, magenta illuminating its face.

Was that fear in its eyes? No, demons didn't feel anything.

Celine started her dance of death, singing tune that rang hollow, missing two thirds of its harmonies.

Red dust coated her hands, forcing her to adjust her grip on her weapons. Another demon lunged at her, falling to her blades as she lodged them in its throat.

Celine spun, carving an arc through a horde of Faceless, then launching herself at a lesser demon, bisecting it and kicking the dissolving corpse into its compatriot.

The moment's overexertion cost her. A Faceless swiped at her leg, tearing away a chunk of flesh before she managed to stab its skull, biting down a scream.

The impostor looked up, maybe noticing the dwindling number of demons, maybe drawn to her pain.

Either way, it pulled its claws away from the Honmoon, slinking farther into the tunnel, intent on running again.

Not a chance.

Celine pushed off the wall, clearing a group of Faceless, pursuing the demon wearing her niece's skin.

Blade met claws as her sickle was deflected.

(And here is another thing Celine does not know. Rumi fights well, but there is no world where a 12 year old, even a child soldier, is able to overpower an adult.)

Yellow eyes flashed in the dim light, patterns rippled across its skin.

Celine struck again, the demon twisted away, using its shorter stature to slip under her guard.

Thin scratches bloomed along her ribs where the imposter managed to land a blow before Celine slammed an elbow into its back, forcing it to one knee.

The demon scrambled away from her, fear in its eyes, fangs bared, a snarl growing in its chest.

Celine ignored the threat, pressing her advantage. She swung again, narrowly missing the demon who retaliated by lunging for her left wrist.

Wait.

Every attack the demon made, it led with its right arm.

Celine deflected another attack, watching more closely.

The demon's left arm lagged slightly, returning to its side quickly, pressed tightly against its ribs like it was trying to avoid moving.

Every part of its fighting style was designed to obfuscate the injury, finely honed to limit the movement of the limb.

That was her opening.

(Later, she would think back and curse herself for being to stupid. Demons didn't develop scar tissue. Why would one have an injury long enough to learn how to fight around it?)

This time when Celine swung, she focused her attacks on the left side of the demons body, forcing it to use the debilitated limb.

This is for my family, Celine thought as the demon's defense opened, left arm straying away from its body for just a beat to long.

The sickle hit true, sinking into the demon's left shoulder, lodging behind its collar bone.

(Please, please, please, cried the Honmoon. You don't know what you're doing. This isn't what I wanted. I'm sorry I chose this. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, either of you. But this isn't right. Hunters aren't supposed to hurt each other.)

Celine pulled, blade slicing through flesh, bone splintering, red arcing through the air, splattering across her face.

But not red dust.

Blood.

That was impossible.

Demons didn't bleed.

A Hunter's weapon cauterized any injury it caused on a demon.

(But not on a human. Or half human at least.)

The impostor screamed, grabbing its arm, crying in pain, blood seeping between its fingers.

Demons didn't bleed.

Demons didn't bleed.

Demons didn't bleed.

Then that meant-

No, that was impossible.

Purple hair, red blood, Miyeong's nose.

The impostor(?) collapsed to the floor, fear in its her eyes, trying to crawl away from Celine.

"Rumi?" The word came out a sob, not that Celine had any right to cry over this. She had done this, had drawn blood from the one remaining member of her family.

Rumi, because who else could she be, stared back, shaking.

"Aunt Celine?" She asked, shaky, terrified, in pain, pain she had caused, fear she had brought about, before her patterns glowed, red like branding irons, and she vanished into the Honmoon.

Celine doubled over and vomited.

What had she done?

("It hurts," Rumi whimpered as Jinu desperately tried to stop the bleeding in her shoulder.

"I know, I know, it's going to hurt worse when I have to set your collarbone."

Tears ran down Rumi's face. "She tried to kill me. I didn't think she'd actually…"

"She's the enemy Rumi," Jinu chastised. "Shes a Hunter. You're a demon, of course she tried to kill you."

Shes a Hunter. You're a demon.

"And never forget that little one.")

Chapter Text

Celine doesn't know this one but Rumi saw her many times over the next few months, waiting for her collarbone to heal.

Slipping out while Jinu was collecting souls, passing through the Honmoon in by gently teasing the threads open then letting them snap back into place.

(Thank you, the Honmoon whispered every time she bent-not-broke its threads. I'm sorry I can't do more, but I can make this easy for you.

Not that Rumi would learn how to hear the whisper for many, many years.)

Watching Aunt Celine fight, from rooftops, the grates of sewers, rafters of abandoned buildings.

Anything to learn how to avoid being hurt by her again.

~~~~

Rumi doesn't know this, but Celine spent the months she was recovering desperately searching every fight, every breach, every patrol for a head of purple hair.

("I'm sorry Miyeong, I think I lost her. I don't know if she'll ever forgive me for what I did.")

~~~~

The stretch of time between jumping off something and landing was one of Rumi's favorite sensations.

The air rushing past her face, the feeling of gravity tugging her down, the faint resistance of wind in her clothes, all culminating in a powerful surge as she impacted, either rolling to dispel her momentum or letting her weight crush whatever she landed on.

Today was one of the latter. Rumi unsheathed the midnight black hwando she'd won off another demon, blade glinting dangerously in the hot summer sun.

Her target moved, dancing away from the strike that would have severed her spinal cord, forcing Rumi to roll into the impact, knees stinging.

Celine swung her sickle, hardened starlight meeting black steel.

It was much easier to deal with a Hunter when you had a buffer between her blades and yourself.

Rumi bared her fangs in a snarl, twisting her sword so Celine's sickle slid, allowing her to step into Celine's guard.

But she blocked with her second weapon, blunt side of the crescent slamming into Rumi's ribs.

She could have killed me then.

Why the hell didn't she?

"Rumi," Celine said, voice cracking with emotion, backing farther away, "please, I don't want to hurt you."

The scar across Rumi's collarbone throbbed. That had to be a lie. Celine was a Hunter. Rumi was a demon.

It was as simple as that.

"Fuck off." Rumi spat, running her claws against the wall of a building, tearing open a new gash in the Honmoon, ignoring the way her soul shuddered as the threads came unbound.

Gold eyes stared back from the rift.

Was that fear on Celine's face? Sorrow? Regret? Rumi couldn't tell and frankly didn't care.

(That was a lie. She cared, she would always care about Celine.)

Rumi forced a grin across her mouth, demons crawling into the world.

It was better this way. With lines drawn clearly.

Celine was a Hunter.

Rumi was a monster.

And when it came time she would die to blade not fire.

Her job here was done.

Hardened starlight blurred as Celine started tearing through demons, a song that was missing something ringing out.

(How she wanted to join in, to let the jagged edges of her soul be soothed by joining her family in chorus.

But instead she teleported away, ignoring the ache that chased her.)

~~~~

Numbness was an old friend these days.

Two thirds of Celine's soul died that horrible night, the man she was starting to consider a friend, consider family disappearing, the bundle of hope and joy vanishing along with him.

How could she be anything but numb?

But honestly, she preferred numbness over the agony she felt now.

Rumi had tried to kill her. Had aimed a sword at her neck. That wasn't even the worst part.

The hatred on Rumi's face, directed at her. The grin as she tore open the Honmoon, broad but not quite hiding the pain in her eyes.

Had she done this? Had she driven Rumi further down that path? Had she turned her niece into a monster?

No.

No.

Never.

Rumi was many things, lost, scared, dangerous.

But never a monster.

The ribbons of the Hunter's tree danced in the wind, almost mockingly peaceful.

You are a Hunter, part of her mind whispered. You kill demons, no matter what shape they take.

"She's my niece," Celine responded out loud. The words broke the silence of the sanctuary, a declaration, a warning, a choice. "She is family. And I am going to bring her home."

Bring a demon to this place? You would desecrate holy grounds?

"For her? Yes. I don't care how long it takes."

Was it her imagination or did the wind pick up; tearing at her clothing, howling like an enraged ghost?

To do this is to forsake your duties. To let one of Gwi-Ma's into our most holy place.

"She isn't one of Gwi-Ma's. She was ours first. Mine and Miyeong and Sarang and Ji-ho's. She is as much Hunter as she is demon." Celine found the oldest ribbons on the tree she could, baring her teeth in a mimicry of Rumi's snarl. "She has a place here and I will make sure she is able to see it."

The oath rippled outward, the Honmoon flickering blue with the strength of Celine's words.

She was going to bring Rumi home.

Whatever it took.

(Thank you, the Honmoon wept. Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.)

~~~~

Years unfurled like the leaves on a vine, Rumi growing, learning, becoming.

(Growing into a weapon. Learning how to more effectively tear open the Honmoon. Becoming more of a threat.

Anything to keep Gwi-Ma happy.)

The 16 year old kicked a rock down the sidewalk, whistling an absent tune.

It was peaceful.

So long as you ignored the fresh gashes on her arm, seeping blood into her jacket.

And the blood soaking her pants, thankfully dark enough to avoid easy detection.

And the way her hands trembled in her pockets, from fear or an adrenaline crash she couldn't tell.

She was fine. The claw scratches would heal over soon. The blood would wash out. The tremors would fade.

Rumi wasn't avoiding returning to the demon realm, she was just…enjoying the night.

Crisp air ruffled her hair, buzz cut starting to grow into fluff. She really needed to trim it. It was starting to reach the length where someone could grab it.

Reaching up to run a hand through it was a mistake. The gash pulsed with heat, fresh blood spilling down her arm, further staining her jacket.

"Dammit," Rumi cursed, debating tearing some clothing for bandages.

Bandages like the type she had stashed back home.

It hadn't been home in five years. It wasn't even a house, just a collection of ruins she and Jinu chose to lay their heads.

…Maybe she was avoiding returning to the demon realm.

But, returning meant returning to the scent of iron. The jeers. The feeling of her blade against flesh.

Breath curled into steam as Rumi leaned against a bus stop, trying desperately to not think about what had just happened.

She failed.

She always failed.

~

"Rumi," Gwi-Ma called, not in her head. Out loud. Meaning this production was meant for an audience. "My hound. We have some dissenters. Some who believe there is a way to get out of the deals they made."

A trio of demons, scared, shaking, patterns dull and lifeless, like they were trying to hide, stood in front of Gwi-Ma's throne.

Heat curled over Rumi's shoulders, back to Gwi-Ma as she took in her targets.

She knew what was coming next. She hated what was coming next.

But she would do it anyway.

It was either that or flame.

"Teach them what we do to troublemakers here."

Rumi launched herself at the trio without hesitation, unsheathing her hwando.

They did not respond with the same haste.

The first one, a green skinned demon with stubby horns, screamed as the blade sunk into his stomach. Rumi wrenched it sideways, blood coating the stone when it tore free.

The green demon dropped, sobbing, trying to keep his organs in his torso.

Rumi turned on the remaining demons, eyes glowing gold.

One of them was braver than the other. And possibly stupider. She lunged at Rumi, swiping with her claws.

Rumi parried, kicking the demon in the chest, sending her tumbling down the steps.

Her head hit stone with a crack. Slowly, she tried to rise.

But Rumi wasn't going to give her the chance. Red smoke engulfed her as Rumi teleported to the base of the steps, sword lodging between the demon's ribs.

For good measure Rumi crouched, grabbing a fistful of hair and slamming the demon's head into the stone again. And again. And again. Until she went still.

Blood dripped down the length of the hwando, steel briefly catching on bone as Rumi pulled the blade free.

The final demon whimpered, dropping to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! It will never happen again! Please don't do this!"

He was shaking, eyes darting between Gwi-Ma, the twitching bodies of his companions, and Rumi.

"What do we think of that idea?" Gwi-Ma asked the gathered crowd. "Do we think he deserves to get off easy?"

A wall of jeers responded. Vying for blood, crying for violence.

"Rumi." She looked into the wall of flame, trying to not let her fear show. "Nothing fancy. Fight him like a demon."

It took her a moment to realize what he wanted.

Demons almost never fought with weapons. And when they did it was heavy and clunky. Nothing like the sword she wielded now. A prize she'd won off a general who'd made a deal with Gwi-Ma centuries ago.

Time had made him complacent.

And now she had a sword and he didn't.

But it was not a demon's weapon.

Rumi sheathed the blade, starting her ascent towards her final target.

The demon scrambled backwards, towards Gwi-Ma. Just like Rumi had years ago, trying to escape Celine.

The crowd must have still been jeering, maybe for her maybe against, but all Rumi could hear was her heartbeat.

Step. Step. Step.

The final demon rose to his feet. Good. Rumi hated it when her opponent wouldn't fight back.

Usually the ones who didn't became ash in the air.

He swung at her, clumsy and unsure. Rumi grabbed his wrist, pulling him in to drive claws into his chest, then pushing him away, letting him stumble.

Gwi-Ma always wanted a show for the last one.

Tears ran down the demon's face. "Please," He tried again.

But he would find no mercy here.

Rumi feinted, pretending to lunge with her right hand, then swiping his legs out from under him.

As he fell, he managed to grab Rumi's arm, claws shredding her jacket, drawing blood.

The fight was over, whether he knew it or not.

Rumi slammed a foot into his sternum, pressing until she heard ribs crack. The demon screamed, fresh tears running down his face.

Normally she would drive her sword into his neck, severing the spinal cord, paralyzing him until the nerves knit back together.

But Gwi-Ma wanted her to finish this like a demon.

Rumi grabbed the edges of his skull and twisted, sharp and quick.

A pop echoed over the stage and the final demon fell silent.

Not dead. None of them were dead.

Only two things could kill a demon.

This was a lesson, not an execution.

Rumi knelt in the blood covered stone, eyes down, the pool of red easier to focus on than Gwi-Ma.

"Very good, my loyal hound." The praise slithered around her ears, sitting wrong. "Let this be a lesson to all of you! There is no escape. There is no way out. You all made your choices."

Then for Rumi alone to hear, "Your father learned that one the hard way. Let's hope you don't make the same mistake. You are dismissed."

Rumi teleported away almost before he finished speaking, forcing her way into the human realm, not caring enough to be subtle, and vomited onto the sidewalk.

~

And so, here she was. Shaking on the bench of a bus stop, covered in blood, trying to pretend like she wasn't an inch away from falling apart at the seams.

What kind of monster does it take to tear apart three people that easily? How far gone do you have to be to not blink at that order?

No wonder Celine wants to kill me.

No wonder I want to let her.

~~~~

Wind kicked up leaves as a Hunter faced off against a horde of demons in a park lit the dying sun.

But something was different about this fight.

Celine had clashed with Rumi more times than she cared to admit. Her coming away with gouges the Honmoon struggled to close, Rumi fleeing with bruises and nicks, Celine unable to stomach inflicting more.

Something hand shifted though. Rumi wasn't fighting like she normally did, fast and lethal.

What's wrong? Celine wanted to ask. How can I fix it?

She didn't say that. Couldn't. Not when she was deflecting Rumi's attack, steel shrieking when it met crystallized starlight.

The sword pressed into the crescent of Celine's sickle, threatening to tear the weapon from her grip.

So she let it, the blade clattering to the ground. A moment later Celine had a fresh weapon in hand, spinning it to impale a Faceless behind her.

Rumi stumbled with the sudden lack of resistance, hitting a tree, claws gouging the bark as she steadied herself.

Celine used the brief reprieve to cleave through the cluster of demons that had tried to surround her, launching her sickle into the skull of a Greater.

It crumbled to dust as the weapon reformed just in time for Celine to deflect a swing from Rumi.

"I am going to kill you and then finally Gwi-Ma will be able to ravage this realm," Rumi snarled, swiping at Celine's leg, forcing her to back up.

"Why would you want that Rumi?" She tried to reason. "What would you gain from Gwi-Ma being free?"

She wasn't going to address Rumi wanting to kill her. Celine couldn't blame her, not after everything.

Rumi didn't respond, instead teleporting away.

Dammit.

Celine bit back a very demonic snarl as she tore through the remaining demons, humming a song under her breath to stitch the Honmoon closed.

It was a relatively small breach this time. To be honest she'd been surprised to find Rumi here. Normally she was the cause of at larger tears.

The threads of the Honmoon relaxed, shifting back to white-blue, the ache in Celine's soul lessening ever so slightly.

A faint hiss of a teleport was the only warning she got before her vision went white with pain, blade piercing just above her hip, sudden weight forcing her to the ground.

Rumi. Eyes gold, fangs bared, patterns glowing red in the fading sun.

Gripping the blade lodged in Celine's torso.

~~~~

Rumi didn't think she'd get this far.

She'd expected Celine to deflect her strike like she always did.

Not this. Not her aunt's blood coating Rumi's sword, trapped under her knee, sickles knocked out of reach.

Helpless.

Like Rumi had been that day.

Like Rumi's victims were.

"Do it." Gwi-Ma ordered, voice slithering into Rumi's ears. "Fulfill your duty."

The blade squelched as Rumi pulled it free, raising it above her head.

Celine gasped in pain, fingers scraping the dirt.

Did she really want this?

Did she really want to kill part of her family, her best chance at a death that wasn't Gwi-Ma's flames, someone Dad cared about, someone who wasn't a monster like her Celine?

"Do it!" Gwi-Ma ordered again, bringing with him memories. Skin bubbling under the heat of Gwi-Ma's wrath, Dad trying to protect her, turning to ash for his effort.

(Please, the Honmoon whispered, strands reaching, reaching, for something, for what it wasn't sure but it had to try.)

~~~~

Celine wasn't sure why she was still alive.

Rumi stared at her, eyes wild, breaths ragged, hwando above her head.

(I'm sorry Miyeong. I couldn't save her.

No, it's not too late. Don't give up. Not now. You need each other. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more.)

~~~~

Rumi couldn't stop hyperventilating.

She needed to drive the sword down.

But her hands refused to move.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? KILL HER!"

(Stop this, what are you doing? That's your family.)

~~~~

Celine couldn't move.

If this were any other demon she might have had the wherewithal to resummon her blades, to shove them off her.

But this was Rumi.

(Don't hurt her. Don't let her hurt you. I can't do both. I'm sorry you were left to shoulder this alone, that never should have happened.)

~~~~

She needed to move. Just drive the blade down and this would all be over.

It would never be over, Gwi-Ma would never let her rest if he managed to enter the human realm.

~~~~

She needed to get up.

Her side ached, but in a cold, detached way.

If she were more coherent that would probably scare her.

~~~~

(Please, listen to me. Don't do this. Hunters aren't supposed to hurt each other. This isn't how things were supposed to be.)

"LISTEN TO ME! KILL HER!"

~~~~

She didn't want to die like this.

~~~~

She didn't want to do this.

~~~~

(I don't want this. I'm sorry I failed you both.)

~~~~

"I WANT HER DEAD!"

~~~~

I'm sorry my love.

~~~~

I'm sorry Dad.

~~~~

I wasn't enough.

~~~~

I couldn't be what you hoped.

~~~~

I'll see you soon.

~~~~

I'll see you soon.

~~~~

Rumi screamed, driving the hwando forward.

Into the dirt next to Celine's head, blade carving a razor thin line across her cheek.

Tears ran down Rumi's face, splattering against Celine's.

After a few moments it looked like they were both crying. Maybe they were.

"I'm sorry," Rumi whispered before vanishing into a cloud of smoke.

Celine remained on the ground, in a pool of her own blood, frozen by shock and pain.

~~~~

"You will regret this decision."

(Thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you, I'm sorry, thankyouI'msorrythankyouI'msorrythankyouI'msorry.)

~~~~

Celine collapsed in front of Miyeong's grave, ignoring the blood seeping between her fingers.

"She didn't kill me," She told the unfeeling stone, shaking, tears prickling at the edges of her eyes. "Rumi could have killed me and didn't."

The world was going grey at the edges, she needed to treat her injury, but Celine couldn't pry herself away from her love, fresh blood seeping into the grave dirt.

"Oh, what is Gwi-Ma going to do to her for this?"