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A demon leaps out of the darkness, fangs bared and claws poised to strike. Before Rumi can even raise her sword, Mira’s gok-do pierces the demon’s side, reducing them to a harmless cloud of pink smoke.
Rumi huffs as she turns to face her next attacker. “I had that.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.” Mira smirks as Rumi rolls her eyes. Her gok-do streaks through the air, dispatching two more demons with one sweeping cut. “That’s four for me tonight. And you’re still at one.”
“It's not a competition,” Rumi snaps, dodging the demon lunging at her and slicing across their torso. “But I definitely have three.”
Mira laughs, her grin stretching even wider across her face. “Whoever takes down the most demons tonight gets to pick what we watch during dinner this week.”
“This isn’t a game, Mira.” Rumi grits her teeth as she blocks a blow from another demon. “We need to focus. Celine won’t—”
Mira kicks the demon attacking Rumi into the alley wall before stabbing through their stomach. “Celine hasn’t been on a hunt with us in months. And she won’t find out if you don’t tell her.”
Rumi turns to face Mira, opening her mouth to argue just as Zoey sprints past them. Zoey jumps and pushes off the side of the alley, leaping into the air above them and launching a flurry of shin-kal at the demons below. “I’m at five!”
“Come on, Rumi.” Mira squares her shoulders, adjusting her grip on her weapon before facing off with the next demon. “You better step it up if you don’t want to watch turtle videos with your ramyeon for the next week.”
Rumi hesitates for a second, then charges around Mira with her sword swinging. Just before she can strike the nearest demon, one of Zoey’s shin-kal hits the their chest and they vanish in a small puff of smoke.
“Zoey!” Rumi shouts with mock indignation, fighting down a smile when Zoey flashes her a cheeky grin. She whirls around to find her next target, running her sword through a demon’s chest just as Mira stabs them from behind. “That one counts as mine!”
“No way.” Mira hits the butt of her weapon on the ground, her other hand planted on her hip. “I got them first.”
“No, you didn’t! I—”
“Guys!” Zoey yells, pointing behind them. “They’re getting away!”
Rumi and Mira both turn to see the remaining demons fleeing down the alley. They look back at each other long enough to share matching grins, then take off running with Zoey close behind them.
The chase leads them into a run-down industrial area, weaving through buildings covered with sheets of rusted, corrugated metal. They easily keep pace with their prey, carefully avoiding the broken glass and garbage scattered in the alleys as they gain on the retreating demons. Right before they catch up with the group, the demons make a sharp turn through the smashed doors of what looks to be an abandoned warehouse.
Rumi, Mira, and Zoey hurry after them, bumping into each other as they jostle to be the first through the doors. The inside of the building is mostly empty with a few scattered piles of rubble and old machinery on the ground floor and a network of catwalks above. The demons are already halfway up the rickety metal stairs leading to the second floor, the rusted, bent steps creaking under their combined weight.
Rushing ahead of Mira and Zoey, Rumi takes the stairs two at a time to reach the upper platforms just after the demons. She hurls herself at the closest enemy, her shoulder slamming into them hard enough to knock them down, and she finishes them off with a downward stab of her sword. “That’s five!”
Zoey bounds up the stairs behind her, knives flashing through the air and forcing two of the demons to take cover behind a low cabinet. Mira runs past Rumi, sweeping her leg out to send another demon crashing down onto the metal grating. She raises her weapon to deliver the final blow, but one of Zoey’s shin-kal gets there first and the demon disappears into a small pink cloud.
“Hey!” Mira yells, scowling when Zoey sticks her tongue out at her.
Rumi laughs, a friendly taunt on the tip of her tongue, freezing when she sees one of their attackers sneaking up behind Mira. “Look out!”
Mira spins around with her gok-do held diagonally in front of her chest just as the demon lunges at her. The demon’s hands wrap around the handle of her weapon, pushing forward hard enough that Mira staggers back a step. Rumi charges with her sword raised, and the demon shoves Mira as hard as they can, slamming her into the catwalk’s railing. There’s a horrible metallic screech as the rusted metal gives way, and Mira disappears over the edge of the platform.
“Mira!” Rumi’s heart leaps into her throat, dread coiling in her stomach as she strikes down the demon with shaking hands. She stumbles toward the broken railing to carefully peer over the edge. Mira is lying unmoving on a mound of debris below, her gok-do still clutched in one hand.
Rumi looks back just in time to see Zoey sprint by her, features twisted with rage as she flings her shin-kal at the remaining demons. The determination on Zoey’s face makes it clear the demons won’t last much longer, so Rumi jumps down to the ground floor, landing heavily before rushing to Mira.
Mira is unconscious, her body sprawled over chunks of broken cement and rusted metal. Rumi scans her for injuries, her eyes quickly landing on the twenty centimeters of rebar sticking out just below Mira’s ribcage. Rumi’s legs buckle, and she drops her sword as she falls to her knees. She crawls forward to press her fingers against Mira’s neck, her entire body sagging with relief when she feels Mira’s heart still beating. Leaning forward, she carefully lifts Mira’s head just high enough to slip her hand underneath. Her fingers come away bloody, and she has to fight down a sob as she stares at the red liquid dripping down her hand.
“Rumi…” Zoey’s shaking voice comes from behind her, and Rumi gently lowers Mira’s head before looking back at her. Zoey is staring down at Mira, wide eyes fixed on the twisted piece of metal protruding from Mira’s abdomen. “Is she…?”
“She’s still breathing.” Rumi wipes her bloody hand on her pants before taking off her jacket. She folds it as neatly as she can, hands trembling even harder as she slips it under Mira’s head.
“There’s barely any blood,” Zoey says weakly. Rumi turns to face her just as Zoey sways, her lower lip quivering. “Shouldn’t there be more blood?”
Rumi gets to her feet and grips Zoey’s arms. “Zoey. Zoey, look at me.” She has to shake Zoey gently before she tears her eyes away from Mira to meet Rumi’s gaze. “We have to get Mira to the hospital. I need you to call for help while I watch her vitals.”
Tears fill Zoey’s eyes but she nods, reaching into her pocket for her phone. Rumi releases her and kneels next to Mira to check her pulse again. Logically, she knows it won’t have changed in the last thirty seconds, but she feels for it anyway, trying to steady herself with the beat of Mira’s heart under her fingers. She’s vaguely aware of Zoey talking to a dispatcher over the phone, explaining Mira’s injuries and their location, but she can’t make out the words through the ringing in her ears. Rumi squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She can’t let herself panic or check out. She needs to stay present for this, no matter how awful it is. After another slow breath, she opens her eyes and presses her fingers to Mira’s neck one more time, the blood on her hand smearing on Mira’s skin.
“Five minutes,” Zoey says, her voice loud enough to bring Rumi’s attention back to her. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”
Mira stirs, her gok-do slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor. She grunts and winces, her features contorting with pain as she raises her head.
“Mira.” Rumi reaches out, hesitating just before she touches her. “It’s better if you don’t move.”
Mira doesn’t seem to hear her, unfocused eyes wandering over her body until they land on the rebar sticking out of her stomach. She blinks slowly as she stares at the twisted, bloody metal, her eyes snapping into focus right before she lets out a strangled scream.
Panic explodes in Rumi’s chest, billowing outward until every part of her is shaking and numbness tingles in her fingertips. Her vision swims, each beat of her pounding heart sending pain throbbing through her aching head and body. At the same time, white-hot, searing agony rips through the space just below her ribs, and she doubles over, gasping for breath.
Mira is breathing just as heavily, sobbing quietly as her trembling hands reach for the piece of rebar.
Rumi fumbles to stop her, still caught in the haze of fear and pain clouding her mind. “Mira, please.” Her fingers wrap around Mira’s wrists, stopping her just before she touches the metal. Mira’s eyes meet hers, and the raw terror in them rips a sob from Rumi’s throat. “Please stop moving.”
Mira makes a choked noise, fighting weakly against Rumi’s grip until her head lolls back and her body goes limp. Zoey screams, the sound morphing into a sob as Rumi scrambles to check Mira’s pulse again. It’s weaker than before, but still there.
“She’s alive,” Rumi gasps, tears streaming down her face. “She’s still alive.”
Zoey is crying even harder now, her words broken up by heaving sobs as she struggles to explain what happened to the dispatcher. Rumi smacks the palm of her hand on the cold ground, digging her fingernails into the concrete as she forces herself to take several deep, shuddering breaths. Panicking will only make things worse. She has to stay calm.
Once her breathing is under control, Rumi lifts her head, doing everything she can to avoid looking at the bloody rebar poking out just below Mira’s ribs. She focuses on Mira’s chest instead, on the rise and fall of each breath. That’s the only thing that matters right now. Mira just has to keep breathing long enough for help to get here. Just a few minutes longer.
Zoey gradually quiets, her conversation with the dispatcher lapsing as she cries silently. Rumi is still staring at Mira’s chest, her entire world hanging on the seconds between every inhale and exhale.
Mira breathes in.
A strong gust of wind hits the side of the warehouse, the loose metal siding clanking as the broken window panes rattle in their frames.
Mira breathes out.
Zoey starts to pace behind her, toes dragging with each step as if she’s forcing herself to keep moving, like she’s afraid she won’t get up again if she stops.
Mira breathes in.
Water drips in some far corner, the gentle plink echoing strangely loud in the large, empty space.
Mira breathes out.
The sound of distant traffic is faint, but still audible, and Rumi strains to hear sirens mixed in with the dull roar.
Mira breathes in.
Zoey mumbles something to the dispatcher that Rumi can’t quite make out, her voice breaking more and more until the sentence ends in a sob.
Mira breathes out.
Sirens rip through the night, getting closer and closer until they abruptly cut out. Vehicles screech to a stop, painting the inside of the warehouse with their flashing red, white, and blue lights. Car doors slam, voices shout, and footsteps rush toward them. Hands grab Rumi’s shoulders, gripping tighter as she fights to stay near Mira. She gets a glimpse of two medics crouching down to examine Mira before more bodies block her view.
Two firefighters guide Rumi and Zoey off to the side to check their more minor injuries. One of them shines a flashlight in Rumi’s eyes. “Did you hit your head?”
“No.” Rumi squints through the beam of the flashlight, standing on her toes and craning her neck to see Mira.
“Can you flex your fingers? How about your toes?” The firefighter waits until Rumi nods, then reaches out to palpate a bruise on her arm. “How does that feel?”
“It hurts,” Rumi says with a wince, still focused on the group around Mira. The other firefighters who responded to the call have now joined the medics, and Rumi strains to hear their conversation.
Before she can make anything out, the firefighter in front of Rumi puts a hand on her shoulder, pulling her attention back to him. “I’d like to take you to the ambulance for a more thorough check.”
Rumi shrugs off his hand. “I’m fine.”
The firefighter turns to Zoey. “What about you?”
Zoey hesitates, glancing at Rumi before looking back at him. “I’m fine, too.”
The firefighter frowns, but holds up his hands to show he won’t push. “How did your friend get hurt?”
“She fell.” Rumi points at the broken railing above them. When she looks back at Mira, one of the firefighters splits off from the others to jog toward the firetruck outside. He reappears a moment later holding some kind of hydraulic tool that looks like a large clamp.
The firefighter holds up the tool for the medics to see as he rejoins the group. “I can cut her free whenever you’re ready.”
Both of the medics nod, one of them moving to secure Mira’s head with a neck brace while the other sets a backboard on the ground next to them. The rest of the group situates themselves around Mira, one by her legs and two on either side of her.
“Lift straight up on my count,” the medic near Mira’s head says. “One, two, three."
On cue, all four of them lift Mira a few centimeters off the rubble.
Mira screams.
Pain erupts just below Rumi’s ribs, burning and stabbing through her flesh as her chest constricts so tightly she can barely breathe. Zoey grabs Rumi’s arm, fingernails digging into her skin.
The firefighter with the hydraulic tool carefully works the device under Mira. “Okay, that’s good, I can reach. Hold her steady.” He presses a button and the jaws of the tool close.
The rebar jerks as it’s cut free, sending another burst of pain radiating out from Mira. Zoey staggers sideways into Rumi, and Rumi’s shaking legs threaten to give out until the two nearby firefighters grab their arms to hold them up.
By the time Rumi’s head has cleared enough for her to look up again, the medics have strapped Mira to the backboard, wrapped the rebar in gauze to stabilize it, and lifted her onto a stretcher. They roll Mira outside, heading toward the ambulance as Rumi and Zoey trail behind them on unsteady legs. The medics haul the stretcher inside the vehicle and close the doors, cutting off their view. A few seconds later, the ambulance speeds off, sirens blaring and lights flashing as it carries Mira away from them.
“Hey!” Rumi turns to see a police officer waving them down, pointing to the open door of her cruiser. “Get in and we can follow them to the hospital.”
Rumi accepts with a wordless nod, taking Zoey’s hand and leading her to the car.
Rumi sits hunched forward with her elbows propped on her thighs, staring down at her clasped hands. She catches movement at the edge of her vision and looks up at the same time as everyone else in the hospital’s waiting area. They all collectively hold their breath as a woman wearing scrubs approaches, but she passes between a set of double doors without speaking to anyone. Everyone settles back uneasily in their chairs and Rumi hangs her head, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt just a little tighter around her face. It’s only been three months since Huntrix debuted and this is the last place their fans would expect to see them, but she doesn’t want to risk getting recognized. The idea of signing an autograph right now makes her want to throw up, and she couldn’t bear answering any questions about why they’re here. But so far, no one has paid any attention to her or Zoey, letting them blend into the dozens of other anxious family and friends waiting for news of their loved ones.
Slumping back in her chair, Rumi leans her head against the wall and lets her hands fall loosely in her lap. They’ve only been here for half an hour, and this waiting room has already earned the top spot on the list of her least favorite places in the world. The automatic doors on the other side of the lobby open and close almost constantly, blaring sirens and honking car horns filtering in each time. A K-drama rerun plays on a television hanging in the corner, the dramatic swells of music so loud they almost drown out the low buzz of conversation between the people waiting. There's a child crying a few chairs away from her despite their parents' best efforts, and someone on Rumi's other side is watching videos from their social media feeds at almost full blast. All the noise and underlying anxiety swirls together in a thick, formless fog that weighs heavily on her chest, and Rumi has to consciously breathe a little deeper to avoid succumbing to its hazy, jittery restlessness.
Rumi turns her head to look at Zoey in the chair next to her, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Zoey hasn’t said a word since they arrived at the hospital. She’s currently sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she stares blankly at the floor in front of her.
“Hey,” Rumi says softly, wincing when Zoey jumps. “Sorry. Just wanted to, uh. Ask how…how you’re doing."
Zoey holds Rumi’s gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. After a few seconds, tears build in her eyes and she looks away.
Rumi quickly grabs a box of tissues from a table nearby and holds it out. Zoey pulls a few tissues free, wiping her eyes and dabbing away the last of her mascara before balling them up in her fist. Rumi moves the box of tissues into her lap, drumming her fingers against the cardboard for a moment before she reaches out to rest a hand on Zoey’s back. The gesture feels awkward and insufficient, but eventually, Zoey’s shoulders stop shaking and she goes back to staring at the floor. Rumi watches Zoey for a little longer, debating if she should say or do anything else. But everything she’s tried so far has only made things worse, so she pulls her hand back and fidgets with the ripped edge of the tissue box.
A shadow falls over her and Rumi looks up, caught between relief and disappointment when she finds Celine standing in front of her instead of a doctor.
“Rumi.” Celine gently takes Rumi's face in her hands, pushing Rumi's hood back and turning her head from side to side to examine her injuries. After a moment, she shifts to do the same to Zoey. “Are you two all right?”
Rumi opens her mouth, then closes it, throat burning as she sets the box of tissues aside. “We’re fine. But Mira…”
“I’m glad you two are okay.” Celine sits down next to Rumi. “What happened?”
Rumi takes a deep breath, forcing the words out through the ache in her chest. “We were fighting demons. Some of them ran off and we were racing to see who could—”
“Racing?” Celine’s eyes narrow slightly. “You were being reckless on purpose?”
“No, we…” Rumi hangs her head, shame burning across her cheeks as guilt squirms in her stomach. “Yes. We were trying to see who could take out the most demons. We chased them into an old warehouse and one of them shoved Mira off a catwalk. She fell onto a piece of rebar that—” Rumi stops when Zoey lets out a choked sob, her hand automatically finding Zoey’s and squeezing hard.
Celine presses her fingers to her temples and lets out a long exhale. “Okay. I have more questions, but we’ll worry about those later. For now, we’ll just have to wait until Mira is out of surgery.”
“What’s our strategy?” Rumi asks, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Our PR strategy,” she tries again when Celine frowns. “We need to explain why we were in that abandoned warehouse. And how Mira got hurt. Our fans—“
Celine holds up a hand to stop her. “You don’t need to worry about that. Bobby and I will handle it. You two just focus on taking care of yourselves.”
Rumi shakes her head. “But—”
“I could feel it.” Rumi and Celine both turn to look at Zoey, and she withers slightly under their combined gazes. “When Mira woke up and saw how hurt she was. And when they cut her free. I could feel it.” Tears slip down Zoey’s cheeks as she curls even further into herself. “She was so scared and it hurt so much and I could feel all of it.”
Celine reaches behind Rumi to rest her free hand on Zoey’s shoulder, giving them both sympathetic looks. “Hunters are connected to each other through the honmoon. If a feeling is intense enough, it can bleed through that connection. I imagine that was…an unpleasant way to experience that for the first time.” Zoey shudders and Celine squeezes her arm.
“Will it happen again?" Zoey asks, her voice trembling slightly.
“Hopefully not," Celine says slowly. "But it might.”
Zoey shudders even harder and Rumi reaches out to take her hand again, squeezing gently before lacing their fingers together. Rumi closes her eyes, curling her free hand into a fist as she lets the waiting room's anxious fog fill her lungs, hoping she can sink deep enough to drown out the memory of Mira’s fear and pain coursing through her.
Rumi shuffles along behind the doctor as they weave through the ICU, following her into one of the private rooms. Mira is lying in the room’s only bed, clad in a hospital gown with an IV in her arm. Rumi half-expected her to look like she was sleeping, like actors always say in TV shows. But Mira’s body is too slack, her arms hanging too limply at her sides to give that impression. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Rumi might not think she was even still alive.
Zoey moves to stand next to Rumi at the end of Mira’s bed, close enough that their shoulders brush. Rumi turns her head to give Zoey her best attempt at an encouraging smile before wrapping an arm around Zoey to pull her in further. They’ll both need the support if Mira isn’t doing well.
The doctor clears her throat, and Rumi looks at her just as she starts speaking.
“My name is Doctor Yoon. I was Mira’s surgeon, and I’m happy to report that her surgery was successful and that Mira is stable.”
Relief washes through Rumi, so strong and sudden that it makes her head spin. At the same time, the knot of anxiety that had been squeezing her lungs for the last few hours releases enough for her to take what feels like her first real breath since arriving at the hospital. Zoey relaxes against her, the tension leaving her body so quickly and completely that Rumi tightens her grip on Zoey’s shoulders, worried that her legs might give way.
“We were able to remove the rebar and debris and stop the internal bleeding,” Doctor Yoon continues. “But her kidney was damaged."
Doctor Yoon keeps talking, throwing out phrases like ‘fluid management,’ ‘potassium levels,’ and ‘possible dialysis’ that Rumi’s tired brain refuses to fully process. She forces herself to tune in again when Doctor Yoon moves on to Mira’s other injuries.
"Her head wound was minor and the CT showed no skull fracture, and we were able to close the laceration without stitches. We automatically put her on our concussion protocol but won't be able to assess the severity until she wakes up.”
Rumi wonders vaguely if she should be writing this down. She’s pretty sure the only thing she’ll remember from this conversation later is that Mira is stable. Zoey looks like she’s having just as much trouble concentrating, so hopefully Celine is actually absorbing what Doctor Yoon is saying.
“We gave her two units of blood and she’s currently on IV antibiotics and pain medication. We’re going to keep her in the ICU for a few days to monitor her, and a nurse will be in to check her vitals every hour. Mira should wake up on her own in a few hours. Please hit the call button when she does or if you need anything.”
Celine thanks Doctor Yoon, waiting until she leaves the room before sitting down in one of the chairs against the room’s outer wall.
Zoey hesitates for a second before moving to the side of the bed. She reaches out to caress Mira’s face, her fingertips starting at Mira’s temple and trailing down her cheek until they rest on her jaw. “Please wake up soon,” Zoey whispers, her voice so quiet that Rumi almost doesn’t hear her. “You have to be okay, Mira.” She lets her touch linger for a moment, tears shining in her eyes. Then she takes a deep breath, pulls her hand away, and walks over to sit next to Celine.
Rumi is still standing at the end of the bed, staring at Mira with a lump building in her throat. Mira looks so…small. Rumi is used to Mira taking up space, loud and brash and formidable. The opposite of everything she is right now, lying unconscious with dark bruises forming on her face and arms, her skin unnaturally pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Swallowing hard, Rumi looks over at the empty chair next to Zoey. The idea of sitting again, restless and helpless and waiting, makes her skin crawl and she suppresses a shudder. “I’ll get us some tea,” she says, her voice rough. She leaves before Zoey and Celine can acknowledge her, careful not to look at Mira again as tears threaten to spill down her cheeks.
“I brought more snacks,” Rumi says, holding up two small bags of shrimp chips.
Zoey doesn’t even look at her, just nods, her eyes fixed on Mira still unconscious in the hospital bed.
Rumi sighs and sets the bags down on the table already littered with unopened snacks and cold, untouched paper cups of tea. “Do you need anything else?”
Zoey shakes her head, sniffling as she blinks back tears.
“Okay. I, uh. I can get—”
“Rumi.” Celine’s voice is firm but not unkind. “Sit.”
“But—”
Celine pats the seat of the chair next to her.
Rumi bites back a sigh and sits down. She regrets it immediately, restlessness making her legs twitch, but forces herself to stay seated. The hospital chairs are somehow even more uncomfortable than she remembered, hard and unyielding no matter how much she adjusts her position. After a moment, she gives up on being comfortable and slouches awkwardly, joining Zoey in staring at Mira. Doctor Yoon said that Mira would wake up on her own about three hours ago, but there was no way to predict when that would actually happen. Rumi’s eyes eventually focus on the one part of Mira that’s still moving, on the gentle motion of her chest with each breath.
Mira breathes in.
The machines monitoring Mira hum softly, lights blinking on their interfaces as they track her vitals. A clock ticks far too loudly on the wall, counting seconds like heartbeats.
Mira breathes out.
Doctors and nurses rush around the ICU outside Mira’s room, their voices and footsteps loud enough to filter through the closed door. If she listens closely, Rumi is pretty sure she can hear someone crying in one of the other rooms near them.
Mira breathes in.
Zoey sniffles again and Celine combs through the snacks piled on the table to unearth a box of tissues. Her chair creaks as she leans over to offer it to Zoey.
Mira breathes out.
Mira breathes in.
Mira breathes out.
Mira opens her eyes.
Rumi and Zoey leap out of their chairs at the same time, running to the side of the bed. Celine calmly walks to stand on Mira’s other side and hits the call button. Mira groans softly, looking at them blearily as her eyes struggle to focus.
Zoey reaches for Mira’s hand, giving it a gentle, cautious squeeze. Mira looks down at the fingers laced with her own, blinking slowly before glancing up at Zoey’s face. Zoey gives her a tearful smile, and Mira does her best to return it, her face twisting into a grimace a second later.
Rumi leans forward, arms half outstretched. “Are you okay?”
Mira rolls her eyes, raising a shaky hand toward Rumi with her middle finger upright.
“Mira!” Zoey gently smacks her arm, pulling back with a gasp when Mira grunts in pain. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry.”
“S’fine,” Mira mumbles. “Not where I got stabbed.”
Zoey laughs weakly, her grip tightening on Mira's hand.
The door to the room opens and another doctor strides inside, smiling when he sees Mira. “Good to see you’re awake!” He looks at Rumi, Zoey, and Celine gathered around the bed. “I'm Doctor Hahm. I need to evaluate Mira’s mental state, do a thorough physical exam, and check her injury sites. It’ll take about fifteen minutes, and I’d like to make sure she isn’t distracted.”
“Of course. We’ll get out of your way.” Celine moves toward the door, gesturing for Rumi and Zoey to follow her. Zoey gives Mira’s hand one last squeeze before she and Rumi leave the room. As they walk out into the hallway, Celine puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you eat anything since I got here. There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”
Rumi frowns. Just the thought of eating is enough to make her queasy. “I’m not hungry.”
“Let’s go down anyway," Celine says as she steers them out of the ICU. “I think we could all use a change of scenery.”
Three hours later, Rumi, Zoey, and Celine are still in Mira’s hospital room. Celine had left briefly to get them a change of clothes, but is now sitting in one of the chairs against the wall beside Rumi. Zoey is curled up in a chair next to the bed, having moved there about half an hour ago so she could watch the TV mounted on the wall, and Mira is lying back with her eyes closed.
“Okay, they just got to her brother’s apartment.” Zoey leans forward, brow furrowed in concentration as she narrates the K-drama on screen. “They’re digging through his stuff looking for the will and…oh! They found a hidden safe! The combination was the birthday of their family pet growing up, obviously. Okay…okay, they found the will. They’re reading it now and…their mother left everything to a horse!”
“A horse?” Mira scoffs, opening her eyes to glance at the TV. “Since when does she have a horse?”
“Don’t look!” Zoey lunges sideways to cover Mira’s face with her hands. “The doctor said you aren’t supposed to look at screens! And you said it made your head hurt.”
Mira bats Zoey’s hands away but closes her eyes as she settles back again. “Fine, I won’t look. But how the hell does the horse fit into this?”
“Okay, lemme see…” Zoey squints at the screen. “The horse was…a gift from their step-father before his mysterious disappearance!”
Mira lets out a long, melodramatic sigh. “Of course it was.”
Rumi laughs, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. Mira looks tired and her bruises are even darker than before, but she’s been talking and moving her arms for the last few hours without much trouble. And Zoey is brighter now that Mira is awake, almost back to her usual bubbly self.
Taking a deep breath, Rumi leans back in her chair, closing her eyes as she allows herself to relax for the first time all day. Mira will be in the hospital a while longer, but she’s clearly doing well. All they have to do now is wait for her to be released, and everything will be fine.
“Mira?”
The worry in Zoey’s voice makes Rumi open her eyes, her entire body tensing.
Mira is staring into empty space, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to respond to Zoey.
Rumi stands and moves to the side of the bed, heart pounding painfully against her ribs. “Mira?”
Mira doesn’t seem to hear her. She’s breathing heavily now, sweat beading on her flushed face.
Zoey grabs Rumi’s arm, eyes wide and fearful. “What’s happening?”
Rumi reaches out to touch Mira’s hand and finds her skin feverishly warm. “Something’s wrong.”
One of the machines hooked up to Mira starts beeping, the numbers on its display flashing urgently. Rumi jabs the call button on the side of the bed with a shaking hand, fighting to keep her breathing even as panic unfurls in her chest.
A doctor hurries into the room almost immediately, glancing at the monitors before grabbing a thermometer from the room’s supply cart. She scans Mira’s forehead, frowns at the number on the display, and leans her head back to yell out the open door of Mira’s room. “I need help in here!”
The doctor motions for Rumi, Zoey, and Celine to follow her, ushering them out into the ICU just as two nurses converge on Mira’s room. Rumi catches the word ‘sepsis’ before the door closes and they’re rushed back into the waiting room.
The three of them stand frozen until Zoey claps both hands over her mouth to muffle a sob. Rumi quickly guides her to a chair, grabbing a box of tissues before sitting down next to her. She wants to say something to comfort Zoey, but she can’t think clearly enough to come up with anything, her mind still reeling from Mira’s sudden change.
Celine stays where she is, the muscles in her jaw working as she stares at the doors to the ICU. “If Mira…” She stops and takes a deep breath, pausing long enough that Rumi and Zoey both look up at her. “If Mira doesn't make it, you’ll feel it through the honmoon.” She glances at them, then back at the doors, throat bobbing as she swallows hard. “I know that’s hard to hear, but I have to warn you. I wasn’t prepared for how awful it was.”
Zoey cries even harder, shoulders shaking as she wraps her arms around herself. Celine sits down next to her and places a steadying hand on Zoey’s shoulder. Rumi offers Zoey more tissues, feeling utterly useless as she chokes down a sob of her own. She wants to scream, to punch as many holes in the wall as she can before collapsing and letting all the fear and grief overtake her. But she knows that would just upset Zoey even more and make everything worse. Instead, she forces her feelings down until tears no longer prick her eyes, rubbing slow circles on Zoey’s back as she holds out the box of tissues again.
“Rumi.”
Rumi wakes with a start, groaning when she registers the aching crick in her neck. Sitting up stiffly, she rolls her shoulders as the thin blanket she was covered with falls into her lap. She briefly glances at Celine standing over her before her eyes dart to Mira still unconscious in the hospital bed. “Did she wake up?”
“No, not yet,” Celine says, crossing her arms. “But you and Zoey need to go home.”
“What?” Rumi jerks her head up to look at Celine so fast her neck pops. “Why?”
“You've been here for two days.” Celine’s voice is quiet but firm. “It’s time to go home and take care of yourselves.”
Rumi clenches her jaw as she holds Celine’s gaze. She can tell from the look on Celine’s face that this is not an argument she’s going to win, but how can she leave Mira? “No. Not until she wakes up.”
“I’ll stay. She won’t be alone.” The corners of Celine’s mouth tick downward in the beginnings of a frown when Rumi shakes her head. “This isn’t optional, Rumi. Maintaining the honmoon is going to be much harder without Mira. You and Zoey need to be at your best.”
Without Mira.
The words punch all the air from Rumi’s lungs and she sits back heavily in her chair, struggling to breathe though the ache in her chest. Celine wants her and Zoey to leave without Mira, to go through their usual routines without Mira, to prepare to protect the honmoon without Mira. She’s expected to go to the home she shares with Mira—furnished with decorations Mira picked out and kitchen cabinets stocked with Mira’s favorite snacks and a bedroom full of Mira's things—and go about her life like it’s normal to do all of these things without Mira. Because there’s a very real possibility that she might never have another dance practice, might never stay up late for another movie night, might never share another meal, might never do anything ever again with Mira.
A sob works it’s way up Rumi’s throat before she can stop it, escaping as a strangled whimper right before she clamps her mouth shut around the sound.
Celine crouches down in front of her, resting one of her hands on Rumi’s knee. Rumi meets her eyes automatically, tears blurring her vision as Celine’s face softens slightly. “Go home. Shower, put on clean clothes, eat a real meal, and sleep in a bed. You can come back to the hospital again in the morning.”
Rumi wants to argue, wants to scream and cry and do whatever she has to do to convince Celine to let her stay. But her body won’t listen to her, still paralyzed by the realization that she might have to go through the rest of her life without Mira.
Celine stands, picking up Rumi’s phone from the table and the bag with their old clothing from the floor before offering them to her. “There’s a car waiting for you outside. It’ll be at the penthouse in the morning to bring you back.”
Rumi continues to stare numbly at Celine, her eyes drifting from the items in Celine’s hands and back up to her face, still unable to process what she's being asked to do.
“Rumi?”
Zoey’s voice is hesitant, and Rumi turns to find Zoey watching her with concern etched across her features. Zoey is clearly exhausted, her face drawn and dark circles under her eyes. Spending two days constantly worrying at the hospital has obviously taken its toll on her.
Rumi sucks in a breath, pushing through the heaviness clinging to her limbs as she forces her body to listen to her again. With jerky, unsteady movements, she stands, takes her belongings from Celine, and reaches out for Zoey’s hand.
Zoey stares at Rumi’s outstretched hand, the crease between her eyebrows growing even deeper. “We’re really leaving?”
Rumi nods. “Celine is right,” she says, her voice hoarse and hollow. “We have to go home so you can take care of yourself.”
Tears shine in Zoey’s eyes as she shakes her head. “But Mira…”
“Zoey,” Rumi chokes out around the lump growing in her throat. She doesn’t have it in her to fight Celine and Zoey right now. And she can't bear Zoey making this any harder than it already is. “Please.”
Zoey holds her gaze with a determined set to her jaw. After a moment, the resolve on her face slips, her lower lip trembling as her shoulders slump. She stands, head hanging as she takes Rumi’s hand and follows her out of the room.
Rumi roughly opens the drawer of her dresser, grabbing a t-shirt before slamming it closed. She pulls the shirt over her head, moves to her closet, and reaches inside to yank a hoodie off a hanger. This isn’t right. She shouldn’t be home freshly showered and putting on comfortable clothes. Not when Mira is at the hospital. Not when Mira might be dying and it’s all her fault.
Tears sting her eyes as she bunches the hoodie in her hands, staggering backwards until she hits the end of her bed. She sits down heavily on the mattress, hands shaking as they clench into fists around the fabric. The sequence of events leading up to Mira’s fall replays in her mind for the hundredth time that day, highlighting every chance she had to try harder, move faster, act sooner, do something to stop Mira from getting hurt.
Rumi closes her eyes, gritting her teeth as the first tears slip down her cheeks. She shouldn’t have agreed to make the hunt a competition or run ahead inside the warehouse. As the leader of Huntrix, it was her job to keep Mira and Zoey safe. Instead, she’d encouraged them to take even more risks, and now Mira was paying the price for her mistakes.
She drops the hoodie on the floor, curling forward to hold her face in her hands. Panic tightens her chest until it hurts to breathe, followed by a wave of guilt so strong it makes her nauseous. Mira might die and there’s nothing she can do about it. Her only option is to wait helplessly, knowing it’s her fault that Mira is hurt, it’s her fault that—
A quiet sob from the main room of the penthouse cuts off the downward spiral of Rumi’s thoughts. Zoey must be crying again. Rumi’s body shudders with a barely contained sob of her own as she presses the heels of her palms against her eyes. That’s her fault, too. All of Zoey’s tears and pain are because of her.
Rumi takes a deep, shaky breath, wiping her nose on the back of her hand before bending down to grab her hoodie. Even if all of this is her fault, there’s still a chance she could help Zoey. She can’t do anything for Mira right now, but taking care of Zoey is still her responsibility. Celine had told them to shower, change clothes, eat, and sleep. So far, Zoey had showered and put on fresh clothes. It’s too early to sleep, but there are leftovers in the fridge they can eat, or they could get takeout. Ordering all of her favorites from that little place down the block is always guaranteed to make Zoey feel better.
She sits for a moment longer, breathing slowly until her hands stop trembling. All of her guilt is still there, squirming through her stomach and filling her throat and infecting her lungs, but she can ignore it all to focus on helping Zoey.
Putting on her hoodie, she leaves her bedroom and closes the door behind her as quietly as she can. Zoey is curled up on the couch in the main room, shoulders shaking as she cries. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, and she lets out an occasional sob or whimper as she rocks her body back and forth.
Rumi freezes, her stomach sinking into the floor as she watches Zoey swipe roughly at her eyes. She can already tell that suggesting eating or sleeping won’t be enough. But she knows she has to do something, so she pushes away from the door, walking toward Zoey with slow, hesitant steps and desperately hoping she’ll think of a plan by the time she makes it to the couch.
Zoey raises her head as Rumi approaches, quickly wiping her tears away. “Sorry.” She sniffles, pulling the collar of her hoodie a little tighter around her neck. “I can be quieter.”
Rumi stops next to the couch, feeling something rip open in her chest when she realizes the hoodie Zoey is wearing belongs to Mira. Zoey holds Rumi’s gaze for a few seconds, eyes slowly filling with tears until she looks away. Rumi just stands there, hands flexing uselessly at her sides. Zoey clearly needs something to comfort her, but every attempt Rumi has made in the last couple days hasn’t helped at all, and she’s afraid of making things even worse.
The weight of all those hours at the hospital, of all the crying and waiting and anxiety, hits Rumi all at once, her body trembling as her legs threaten to buckle. Celine has been there for all of it, acting as their rock as the two of them struggled to keep themselves together. She’d offered plenty of small touches to bolster them, always placing a steady hand on their backs or knees while they floundered. But Rumi realizes in that moment, as she fights to keep the guilt and uncertainty from swallowing her whole, that what she needs most is a hug, and that Zoey probably needs one just as badly.
“Zoey.”
Rumi’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but Zoey still hears it. She looks up, and Rumi doesn’t say anything else, just opens her arms wide.
Zoey doesn’t hesitate, throwing herself forward to wrap her arms around Rumi’s waist. Her head presses against Rumi’s chest and Rumi puts one arm around Zoey’s back, her other hand resting on the back of Zoey's neck. Zoey starts to sob again, fresh tears soaking into Rumi’s hoodie as they pull each other close.
“It’s going to be okay,” Rumi says, her voice cracking as her own tears start flowing. “She’s going to be okay.”
Neither of them know if that’s true. But it’s a little easier to believe with their arms wrapped around each other.
Later that night, Rumi and Zoey are curled up together in Mira’s bed. Zoey hasn’t let go of Rumi since she first offered that hug a few hours ago. Her arms are around Rumi now, holding her close with her head tucked against Rumi’s chest and their legs tangled together.
Closing her eyes, Rumi marvels at the feeling of Zoey against her, vibrant and warm and alive, Zoey’s ribs expanding between her arms with each breath. She’s never held Zoey like this before, never this close or for this long. And Zoey has never held her like this, clinging to Rumi like letting go would mean losing something she couldn’t bear to be without.
Rumi takes a deep breath, her chest constricting when she picks up the scent of Mira’s perfume on the hoodie Zoey is wearing. She squeezes her eyes shut to stop the building tears, a lump rising in her throat as guilt and fear swirl through her. It takes everything she has left to keep her head above the rising tide, almost too exhausted to fight this time. Part of her is tempted to just give in and let the emotions pull her under, drowning out every part of her until she can’t feel anything at all.
Zoey’s arms tighten around her as she nuzzles her face against Rumi’s chest. At the same time, a soft pulse radiates out from Zoey through the honmoon. The burst of energy cuts through the storm of emotions roiling behind Rumi’s sternum, its waves subsiding into ripples that no longer threaten to overwhelm her.
Rumi stills, holding her breath as she waits to see what happens next, but Zoey doesn’t move again. She isn’t entirely sure that Zoey meant to use the honmoon just now, probably acting more on instinct than conscious thought. All three of them knew their souls were connected, but they had never tried anything like that before.
After a moment, Rumi reaches out through the honmoon, cautious and fumbling slightly with the new sensation. She’s worried she might be overstepping, but Zoey meets her without hesitation, instantly opening herself to the connection. Rumi has just barely dipped into their shared awareness when she feels the tempest of emotions raging inside Zoey, filled with the same pain and heartbreak that had been tearing her apart for the last two days.
Tears gather in Rumi’s eyes as she pulls Zoey closer, caught in a strange mix of relief and sorrow. Seeing Mira hurt had cut Zoey just as deeply, and the idea of losing Mira was just as devastating for both of them. Rumi thought she was helping by keeping her emotions suppressed, but it’s clear now that sharing this weight is the only way they can possibly bear it. She holds Zoey as tightly as she can and sends another pulse through the honmoon, the ache in her chest easing when she feels Zoey’s internal storm fade just like her own.
Resting her chin on top of Zoey’s head, Rumi breathes in deeply through her nose even though she knows it means smelling Mira’s perfume again. She doesn’t fight her reaction this time, letting the emotions swell in her chest before rushing through the rest of her. They don’t scare her anymore, not when she knows she can weather them here, safe in Zoey’s arms. She relaxes her body, her breathing slow and even as she allows herself feel whatever she needs to feel, letting herself exist here with Zoey without worrying about what comes next.
Rumi and Zoey breathe in.
Their combined awareness slips seamlessly into the honmoon and they twine together, their souls pulsing steadily as they pour themselves into each other, not stopping until every part of them is connected.
They breathe out.
As one, they reach out again, searching until they find their missing part. Mira’s soul is far away, its light dimmer than usual, and they carefully pull her close to cradle her between them. They absorb her into the flow already connecting their souls, holding nothing back as they gently envelope her in all of the feelings, memories, and hopes the three of them have created in the short time that they’ve known each other.
Rumi, Zoey, and Mira breathe in.
They breathe out.
They breathe in.
They breathe out.
And by the time Zoey and Rumi fall asleep, Mira's soul glows just a little brighter.
Two days later, Mira finally wakes up.
Zoey is first to Mira’s side, hitting the call button before reaching back to grab Rumi’s hand. She intertwines their fingers and pulls Rumi close, both of them holding their breath as they watch Mira’s eyes struggle to focus on her surroundings.
After a moment, Mira’s gaze lands on them, and recognition passes over her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice gravely from disuse.
Rumi laughs weakly. “I was just about to say that.” She gives Mira a small, hesitant smile, warmth blooming in her chest when Mira returns it. “How are you feeling?”
Mira’s smile drops slightly. “Not great. But better than before.”
Rumi nods and opens her mouth to ask another question, but stops when Zoey lets out a sob.
“Sorry,” Zoey says between gasping breaths. She wipes her eyes with her free hand and gives Mira a watery smile. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”
Rumi lets go of Zoey’s hand and turns to face her, arms open wide. Zoey eagerly steps into the hug, pulling Rumi close as her tears soak into Rumi’s shirt. They break apart a few seconds later when the door to Mira’s room opens and Doctor Hahm and a nurse Rumi doesn't recognize walk inside.
“Nice to see you awake again, Mira.” Doctor Hahm beams at Mira before gesturing to the nurse next to him. “This is Nurse Chon. We just need to do a quick check and we’ll be on our way.”
Rumi and Zoey step back so Doctor Hahm and Nurse Chon can stand on either side of the bed. Nurse Chon sets a small caddy of supplies next to Mira’s leg and pulls out a pair of exam gloves. “I need to draw some blood.”
Mira makes a face as she holds out her arm. “Getting stabbed once already wasn't enough?”
Nurse Chon chuckles as she preps Mira’s arm for the blood draw. “It’s just a little poke. Nothing you can’t handle.”
“Just focus on me and you won’t notice a thing,” Doctor Hahm says, waving to get Mira’s attention. “Now, I have a few assessment questions for you. First, do you know where you are?”
Mira nods, wincing as Nurse Chon pricks her skin with a needle. “The hospital.”
“Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?” Doctor Hahm gives Mira a thumbs up when she demonstrates. “Good. How’s your pain level?”
Mira shrugs. “I think okay? It hurts, but not too much.”
Nurse Chon sets the vial of Mira’s blood in her caddy and pulls out a thermometer. “Just need to check your temp now.” She scans Mira’s forehead and shows the number on the display to Doctor Hahm.
“All right, everything looks good.” Doctor Hahm beams at Mira again as Nurse Chon puts her supplies back in her caddy. “Someone should come by to check your vitals every hour, but otherwise you’re good to go. Hit the call button if your pain changes, or if you need anything else.” He motions to Rumi and Zoey, his grin somehow growing even wider. “These two have hardly left your side the entire time you’ve been here, so I’m sure they’d like us to get out of their way.” He turns to wink at them before he and Nurse Chon leave the room.
Mira is silent as Rumi and Zoey approach her bedside again. After a few seconds, she looks up at them with a small crease between her eyebrows. “You really stayed the whole time?”
“We went home a couple times to shower and sleep.” Rumi rests her hand on top of Mira's, squeezing gently. “But besides that, yeah.”
“Oh.” Mira stares down at their hands as the beginnings of tears shine in her eyes. “Thanks.” She takes a deep breath, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face and her expression shifts into a grimace.
“You okay?” Rumi asks, watching Mira carefully.
“Yeah. I just feel really gross.” Mira pulls an even more exaggerated face. “I haven’t showered in forever and I think my hair is getting matted.”
Rumi jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward the bag sitting on one of the chairs along the wall. “We brought some stuff from home that we thought might make you feel better. I think there’s a hairbrush in there.”
“Yeah, that might help.” Mira pauses as her eyes flick to Rumi's face, then down to their hands in her lap. "Could, um. Could you brush my hair? I think my arms are too tired.”
“Of course.” The warmth already nestled in Rumi’s chest grows, spreading out through the rest of her body as she squeezes Mira's hand again. Zoey walks over to the chair to grab the bag, bringing it back to the bed and setting it down near Mira’s legs before riffling around inside. Rumi moves further up the bed, helping Mira sit up away from her pillows. Once Mira is settled, Rumi takes the hairbrush from Zoey and gently works it through Mira’s hair, keeping her movements slow and careful to avoid pulling too much. Mira sighs contentedly, eyes fluttering closed as her shoulders relax.
Zoey rummages inside the bag again and produces a bag of nail polish. “Some of the paint on your nails is chipped. Do you want me to touch it up?” Mira nods and Zoey grins, handing her the bag. “Just let me know which color you want. And, um.” Zoey’s cheeks tint pink as she opens the bag one more time, pulling out a well-worn turtle stuffie. “I also brought this. Just in case it would help.”
Mira takes the stuffie from Zoey, cradling it in her hands. She stares down at it silently for a few seconds as a fresh wave of tears gathers in her eyes.
“Sorry, it’s kind of silly.” Zoey blushes harder as she reaches to take the stuffed animal back. “You don’t have to—”
“I could feel you.” Mira sniffles, swiping a hand under her eyes as the first tear slips down her cheek. “Through the honmoon. Even when I was passed out. I could feel both of you…holding me.” Her voice wobbles and she stops, swallowing hard as she holds the stuffie to her chest. “So, um. Thank you.”
Rumi rests her hand on Mira’s shoulder at the same time Zoey leans down to give Mira a gentle hug. “We’re here for you, Mira. Always.”
Mira nods, giving Rumi a watery smile as she wraps an arm around Zoey. “Could we watch the rest of that K-drama episode from before? I want to know what happens to that stupid horse.”
Zoey laughs as tightens the embrace. “I brought my laptop, so I’ll see if I can find it. I can narrate while I do your nails.”
After holding Mira for a few more seconds, Zoey moves one of the chairs next to the bed and gets out her laptop. Rumi resumes brushing Mira’s hair while Mira sorts through the bottles of nail polish, still holding Zoey’s stuffie to her chest with one hand. All three of their souls pulse steadily, thrumming in tandem as the honmoon sings around them.