Chapter Text
Bobby had just finished his time at Seoul National University when he heard it.
He was twenty two. Fresh out of college and ready to start his life with a marketing degree in the capital of South Korea. It made sense that if he wanted to really start getting some exposure and making headway then it was best to start in the city. At least that made sense to him. It’s why he went to school in the capital.
However, this plan wasn’t too friendly on his wallet. He landed a small job with advertising for a large soda company and that paid for his apartment but it wasn’t much. It wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. His dream was working with a music band or a solo musician or even with a podcast star—he wasn’t picky—but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for him. As such, he kept his head down and kept working. He could find a better job soon, but, for now, what was more important was being able to eat. All in all, life wasn’t too bad for him.
He was coming home from a long shift of work—his shift technically ended at 7 pm but he stayed very late with some friends—when the noise caught his attention. The streets were nearly cleared of people, everyone already home and in bed, and the cars that occasionally passed by were not frequent. The noise pierced the night sky softly but clear as day.
A baby.
Bobby followed the noise to a small alleyway. He found a basket with a pink blanket poking out the side. He removed the lid and there, nestled inside the basket, was a baby with purple hair and wrapped in a pink blanket with dark pink stars. The baby stared up at him, finally stopping her crying and revealing her large brown eyes, and reached. Next to her there was a note on a white piece of paper. It was facing up allowing Bobby to read it without touching it.
To Whom It May Concern,
I'm sorry. I thought I could take care of her but I can't. She's a special baby, so please treat her well. There's more to her than you may think.
Her former guardian
There was hints of a name at the very bottom of the paper but it was scratched out so much that all Bobby could real was a Cel and nothing more. He assumed that it was the name of the person who left the baby behind.
“Okay. Okay, Bobby. Nothing too crazy. It’s just a baby. A literal infant someone abandoned on the street. You know what to do. You have common sense.” The baby began to whimper when she realized Bobby wasn’t instantly picking her up, “And common sense probably says to…comfort the baby.”
Hesitantly, he picked up the squirming infant and held her. Underneath the blanket, he saw that she was wearing a little onesie with long sleeves. At least whoever dumped her took care to make sure she didn’t freeze when they abandoned her on the streets. Once she was in someone’s arms, she calmed down and nestled into Bobby’s shirt. His heart was pounding so loud that it was probably being used by the baby as a rhythm to listen to while she faded off to sleep.
“Okay…ummm…police! Yes! Let’s get you inside and then we’ll call the police and they’ll find you a good home.” And hopefully the people who left her in a basket.
Bobby brought the infant inside his tiny apartment. The second the lights were turned on the baby’s eyes blinked open, staring at him like she was waiting to see what he would do. He didn’t have anything here to actually take care of a baby, so, for tonight, he’d have to improvise. Bobby set down a blanket and placed two pillows next to the baby. She squirmed, trying to see what the pillows were and what he was doing but she didn’t cry.
That probably was a successful move then, right?
“Are you cold?”
The baby sneezed.
“You have a blanket. We can use…” His voice trailed off when he felt something on the piece of fabric. There was a name. It was sown into the pink fabric with a raspberry color.
Rumi.
“Rumi. Is that your name?”
“Ugh.” The baby—Rumi—gurgled.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, Rumi. Let’s get you all warmed up and then-“ Once again, Bobby was cut off when he noticed lines on her arm. Gently, he pushed the tiny sleeves she was wearing back to reveal small purple lines on her arm, “Are those…tattoos?” No. Tattoos didn’t look like that and the baby was far too happy. If they were tattoos, she would have started wailing when he touched them. They weren’t bruises either. So…what were they?
“Is this why you were abandoned?” Bobby whispered.
Rumi didn’t respond but something told Bobby it was. Somehow, someway, the person in charge of loving and caring for her left her behind because of these marks.
“You’re safe now. I promise you’re safe.” Wrapping her back up in her blanket, Bobby brushed her purple hair to the side and Rumi’s eyes began to close. She was a baby. She probably didn’t know any better but hearing those words broke though. She was safe. She knew that. And now she could rest.
—————————————
Bobby was going to call the police. Really he was. He was going to report Rumi as abandoned and make sure she got the proper care she deserved. He was going to do his part and be a good human.
Then she teleported.
It was instant. One second she was in his arms and the next there was a puff of purple smoke and she was back in her little nest of blankets and pillows, crying because she wasn’t in Bobby’s arms anymore. She didn’t appear injured or in pain, just upset, but there was no denying what he saw. She had teleported.
Not only did she teleport, but Bobby also began to notice that her patterns glowed whenever she cried. Her screams broke the glass around her which just pushed her to cry even harder. And he was still dealing with scratches on his back and arms from when she got really, really upset and one of her hands grew claws and turned purple.
After going to college for four years, Bobby had seen some weird stuff and he’d had some crazy nights. Nothing could have prepared him for a teleporting baby that could shatter glass and glow. There was no denying what he was seeing or the truth of it by the end of the week.
“You’re not completely human, huh?” Rumi giggled.
He couldn’t tell the police. She’d end up taken away and locked up forever. Rumi didn’t deserve that. He had to do something for her and with the police out of the question only one possible course of action remained.
“I’m gonna adopt you!” Rumi tilted her head and stared.
——————————————
Thankfully, Bobby knew someone who could…change documents to make them look official and was able to forge a birth certificate for Rumi and proof of adoption for Bobby. Once he had that, confirming that Rumi was his daughter became much easier for him. There were a couple hiccups along the way and the first few days with the fake documents left him seconds away from having a heart attack, but after two weeks with no issue and no one questioning a thing, his nerves began to calm.
The hardest part of all of this was the hospitals.
Human or not, Rumi needed check ups. Bobby was not going to let this baby get sick after everything he’d done to make sure she was safe. Once they managed to get her an appointment and the hospital accepted his certifications, Bobby was able to calm himself a little but then came the check up itself.
“Good morning! Kim Bobby?” The doctor was a sweet woman but she was also the woman with shots and cold metal. Things that tended to make babies upset and, in Rumi, may trigger something.
“Morning.” Bobby replied.
“Is this her first check up?”
“Yes. This is Kim Rumi.”
“She looks just precious. I do have to give her some shots today though, so she probably won’t like me at the end of our session.”
“Yeah.” He winced.
During the check ups, Bobby spent the entire time in a panic. Worried that Rumi would teleport or her marks would start glowing or she’d hiss or purr—something else that had started happening. Thankfully, most of the session went by with no issue. The worst thing Rumi did was sneeze in the doctor’s face and all she did was laugh it off. She really only became upset or nervous when the doctor had to touch her with a cold piece of metal or stood in between her and Bobby.
“She’s just the sweetest little thing.” The doctor cooed. Rumi giggled when the doctor tickled her chin, “All her tests look normal and stable.” The infant babbled when the doctor came closer to her, grabbing her stethoscope and chewing on it.
“Rumi.” Bobby chuckled, “No, no eating the equipment.” Gently, he removed it from her mouth.
“Uhhh.” Rumi whined, “Ah! Ba! Uh!” Her little arms flapped around as she ‘spoke’.
Both Bobby and the doctor could only laugh, “Talkative little one. I bet she just talks your ear off.”
“N-No.” Bobby stuttered, “Is that bad? Should she be talking?”
“Not at all. I was just kidding. I don’t know any six month old who can hold a conversation beyond babbling.” Six months. Bobby locked that number away in his mind. She was six months old. He needed to look up six month old care.
In the back of his mind though, a question popped up. Who would abandon a six month old infant? Who could look at this happy little girl and think she deserved to be left alone on the streets? The doctor turned back, noticing Bobby’s intense stare. Rumi was a bit too occupied with now chewing on the doctor’s coat to notice his look.
“Single dad?” The doctor’s question brought him back to reality.
“Wha-oh! Yes! Single dad.” Bobby said, “Rumi is all I need.”
A part of him expected some push back. It wasn’t uncommon in the city for people to raise an eyebrow at single parents but, if anything, she seemed enthusiastic about it, “You have no idea how relieving that is to hear.” The doctor smiled, “When did you adopt her?”
“Not long ago. A few months. She came over from America so you probably don’t know the agency or anything I used.” That was a pretty good way to slip under the radar. It had worked when his boss questioned the new baby, saying he didn’t even know Bobby was trying to adopt. When Bobby used the word America and threw around the name of an adoption agency he’d looked up, the questions started to die down. It helped that Rumi was a very cute baby, so all the attention quickly went to whatever adorable thing she was doing.
“Hmm.” The doctor finished her exam of Rumi seconds later. She held up her hand to give the infant girl a tiny high five with a smile, “She’s a perfectly healthy baby girl. Bring her back for her next check up but nothing about her is really concerning me. Alright, sweetie, now we have to get to the part that you and I both hate.”
The doctor reached into a small bin she’d brought into the room, revealing three shots. She sat them down on a towel next to Rumi, bringing out some bandaids and wipes as well. Bobby kept one hand on Rumi’s back and used the other to hold her hand that had a habit of turning purple and growing claws.
“Could you give her the shot on her left arm?” The one without patterns.
“Actually, these shots go in her legs. She’s too young to get them in her arms. First one.” The second the shot hit Rumi she began to whine, “I know. I know. Just two more, sweetie. Just two more.”
The second shot made her cry, “Rumi, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Bobby whispered. The glass on the window began to crack, “Shhh. Shhh. I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re safe.” She still continued to cry but her cries turned silent when Bobby pressed his head against her own. When she could feel his hand curl around her own and feel his face next to her, she pressed herself closer to him.
“Last one.” The doctor transferred to Rumi’s other leg and pressed the injection into her skin.
“ AHH! ” There was no way anyone would have moved faster than Bobby did at that moment. He scooped her up and pressed her against his chest, cradling her and bouncing her in his arms despite her screams. Her voice wavered. She was using her other voice. Her non-human voice, “ Uhh…AHH!! ” The window was nearly broken. How the doctor didn’t notice was a miracle.
Bobby had no doubts in his mind Rumi’s marks were also glowing so he grabbed her blanket and wrapped it around her as quickly as he could before the doctor could notice, “Thank you so much.” He gave the doctor a quick bow, “I’ll just take her and head home.”
“Alright. Make sure to schedule another appointment before leaving.” She called.
———————————
Baby, work, baby, research.
Baby, work, baby, research.
Baby, work, baby research.
In the morning, he took care of Rumi. He fed her, held her, changed her, bathed her, fed her again and then it was off to work. Since he couldn’t leave Rumi with a babysitter or in a daycare—people would probably get suspicious when she started hissing at people or disappearing in smoke—he started working from home. It was a hit to his career but all he could do now that he had Rumi.
After a full day of work, all his attention went back to Rumi. To making sure she was loved, cared for and given as much attention as she wished. Only when she fell asleep did Bobby open his computer and start doing research on her marks. He gathered as much information as he possibly could and put in all her symptoms. Occasionally, he got a few weird results but one was consistent: demons. Like the characters from the stories his grandmother told him. The ones who came to their word to kill people and deliver human souls to their king.
“Rumi’s a demon?” Or at least part demon. Maybe.
Bobby didn’t believe in demons. Those stories he’d heard growing up were always just that: stories. He didn’t believe the sweet little girl who whined when she didn’t get held and giggled when he tickled her and tried to crawl after him was really a creature meant to steal souls. There was just no way.
But he also didn’t know how best to explain all of her weird abilities or the patterns on her arm that never went away.
“Are you a demon?” Bobby asked one day.
Rumi, playing with blocks on the floor of the time apartment, turned towards the man when he asked her the question. She had been pretty content with her mission of stacking and restacking blocks but his question proved to be enough to tear her away and turned towards him. The two stared at one another, neither one knowing what exactly to do, when Rumi narrowed her eyes and made a face.
“Uh?” Rumi tilted her head, “d…da…ah!” She tossed a block she was playing with and laughed.
Bobby chuckled, “If you are a demon, you’re a very cute demon.”
“D…da…”
“You trying to say something?” Bobby asked, “Or just a little gasy?” Either was a possibility. She was nearing one year old and had already tried to create a word before.
Rumi’s face crumpled until she finally found the word, “Dada!” Rumi cried.
Bobby’s eyes grew and he fell back against the couch. The word was clear and loud. She said dada. She called him dada. Her eyes practically sparkled when she did, feeling her sense of accomplishment at finally saying her first word. Bobby, still too stunned to do much but stare at the infant, finally found his words as well.
“You really need me, huh?” Demon or not, she really did, “I can’t say I totally understand you, Rumi, but I’ll do my best. I promise.” It was faint but Bobby swore he felt some kind of wind hit his back despite being inside. With a soft chuckle, he held her close, “Rumi.”
“Dada!”