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Weak.
Hellfire scorched his vision. He didn't blink.
There was ringing in his ears. It sounded like screaming. It sounded like wailing.
Rumi was so small. The blast of Gwi-Ma’s fire was so big, bearing down on her, pushing her back, and she was resisting with all her strength, her glowing spirit-sword the only thing protecting her.
Her patterns were beautiful. Unashamed. Weakness turned defiant strength.
Pathetic.
Jinu wanted to move. His body stayed numb. The taunting heat of Gwi-Ma lapped at his back.
Then, like a jolt–
Rumi was going to die.
Selfish.
He had to do something–
You can't save her.
Jinu tore his mind from Gwi-Ma's clutches with a violent yank of his head, teleporting on instinct and reforming in a wisp of maroon smoke, right by her side, where he should've been all along, and he launched himself towards her, clawed hands reaching out and–
Passing straight through her burning chest. He stumbled, seeing an orb of light in his palm. Jinu gave a choked noise of horror – he hadn't meant to–
He frantically looked back at her. Time cursed him with a moment of eternity, to see her gaze at him with an expression softer than he deserved, and a gentle smile that ripped at his heart.
The clatter of her dropped sword was distant. The vision of her form being chewed up by hellfire was encompassing.
Jinu reached for her. The torrent of spat fire crashed down onto the stage with a thunderous roar. He flinched back unconsciously, staring, staring, seeing the shape of Rumi fading inside his eyelids with every blink, until, just like her, it was gone.
A few flickers of fire remained upon the scorched stage. Gwi-Ma's chuckles of triumph were background noise. The howls of Rumi's friends were like lashes against his back.
Jinu tore off his outer cloak before it could suffocate him, keeping one hand clasped, watching as the cursed flames consumed the black fabric. His hat had been lost during his desperation. He remained in loose black underclothes, kneeling upon the edge of the stage, hunched over and head dipped in solemnity.
Gentle warmth hummed in his palm. It took all his courage to open his eyes, vision swimming, and stare at the precious lilac soul, cradled in his hands. Her soul. Rumi's soul.
He'd intended to push her to safety; take the hellfire for himself. But he'd been too late: she had already been burnt beyond repair. All he could touch was her soul.
“Will he let the fire go out…?” He whispered distantly.
Jinu didn't know if he felt hollow. He didn't know if he felt. He was a demon, after all.
Where the light of the soul touched, the deep purple of his patterns softened, lightened, soothed into an iridescent dance, just like hers had been, when she'd strode so bravely back into the stadium, laying herself bare for the world to see in lyrics that stung his chest. His breath hitched. One hand went to his heart, fingers fluttering, disbelieving, over the reignited light that sat above his ribs.
How long had it been since he'd felt alive?
“You!”
He turned to face the tip of a shaking spear. Mira glared at him, rage ensconced in the baring of her teeth, pink hair flared like the bristling of a feline. For some reason, she suddenly faltered.
Jinu briefly dipped his head, then raised it to meet her gaze.
“My voice without the lies,” he choked out, broken, burned, begging– “this is what it sounds like.”
She stared at him. At the soul he lifted. At his own returned soul. At his face.
Oh. He… was crying.
“You…” She repeated, lost.
Movement. Zoey dropped to her knees next to the sword. She was heaving with sobs.
“Mira,” she wept, “what– what do we–”
Her hands gripped tighter, as though her weapon was the only tether to her reality. “I– I don't–”
Jinu stared at the sword. It still pulsed with a faint pink-blue glow. It looked like it was dying.
“You thought you could save her?” Gwi-Ma laughed incredulously, a sound that boomed through the air and reverberated throughout the stadium. “You've never done anything for anyone but yourself, Jinu!”
The audience were still in a trance. Without the Saja Boys' song, they'd stopped feeding themselves to the demon king. He seemed content to relish in his victory, for the time being.
Within his hands, the soul gave a soft tug, and he half-shuffled on his knees, half dragged himself along, towards what felt like a world away: the sword. Zoey barely even reacted to him, merely acknowledged his presence with a defeated glance, brown eyes rimmed with red and face streaked with tears. He touched his own cheek, calloused fingertips coming away glistening.
“I was controlled by him,” he confessed in a rasp, unsure whether he was talking to them or himself. “But I was– I was loyal to her.”
The blade was fading, but the hilt remained strong.
“Your Hunter is dead. Your Honmoon is destroyed. What have you left, Huntr/x?” Gwi-Ma taunted. “What a pretty effort you made. It's a shame it was all for nothing. I have a whole world of demons to replace the ones you killed, after all.”
Jinu's hazy focus sharpened when he saw Zoey's eyes begin to glaze over. Startling both himself and her, he grabbed her shoulder. There was a pause as they stared at each other.
He was already a turncoat. He knew his fate was sealed the moment he– he tried to save–
“Don't listen to him,” Jinu told her in a wavering voice. “Please. You can't.”
“But– But I– She's–” Zoey whimpered when her hand phased through the blade.
“Don’t– Don't let him get in your head. Not after– all this,” he squeezed her shoulder, his other hand clutched to his chest, soul to soul.
And he–
He realised, with sudden clarity, that he could no longer hear Gwi-Ma inside his head. Gone was the insulting, the wailing, the manipulating. It had been such a permanent resident that the silence in its place was… jarring. The only other time his head has been clear was with–
For almost the first time in four hundred years, Jinu had his own thoughts back.
“I'm– I'm going to kill him,” Mira croaked weakly, stumbling when she tried to step forward.
The lilac soul seemed to trill at him, and he falteringly lowered it towards the stage.
Zoey wobbled to her feet, grabbing her friend's arm. “Mira! I can't lose– You can't!”
In a slick of light, Rumi's soul and sword smoothed into one, glowing ribbons twisting and curling towards his outstretched wrist.
“You can't,” Jinu repeated blankly.
“That's right,” Gwi-Ma purred. “You've spent so long fighting. And what for? It's so much easier to just give up.”
Maybe hatred couldn't defeat Gwi-Ma. But, what he felt for Rumi… Maybe… Maybe that could.
He knew it could.
Expression steeled, Jinu grabbed the sword by the hilt. It felt like lightning coursing through his body, and he watched in awe as all the purple of his patterns was washed away with every flourish and twirl of sacred light that embraced him. He let out a wet laugh, devoid of joy. With sharpened fingers, his sleeves were roughly torn off and tossed aside, and he breathlessly admired each stripe it revealed.
When he looked up, Zoey and Mira were staring at him, at the soul magic dancing around their forms and infusing their weapons with otherworldly light. He clutched the sword tighter, letting instinct guide his grip until it felt natural, and hesitantly stepped towards the girls.
“I'm not the one you need,” he sang – offered – quietly, yet it rang out through the stadium, overpowering even Gwi-Ma’s snarl. “But I'll be your harmony.”
A glimmer.
“The Honmoon?” Zoey whispered uncertainly, fingers anxiously twisting a strand of her black bangs. “Without– How can we–”
“We– We try,” Mira murmured, eyeing him with unshed tears.
Jinu swallowed his grief, blinked his vision clear, and gritted his teeth. “For Rumi.”
The girls shared a glance. They flashed their weapons. All three glared up at the flames of the demon king.
What did it matter? If they didn't fight, they'd die anyway. They had to try–
“For Rumi!”
Jinu barely knew how to fight, but his borrowed sword was more than happy to show him. He leapt forward in a blink, twisting around and slashing the blade through the air, sending a shockwave of energy slicing directly through the centre of the flames, splitting their enemy in half with a yowl. The girls sprinted up beside him, expressions set with determination as they launched their own attacks, severing tongues of flame and gracefully dodging and defeating every new demon that crawled out. Their song never wavered, and Jinu found instinct guiding him there, too, weaving his voice seamlessly with the Hunters' into a different, delicate harmony, a vengeful union against a common enemy, as their feet left the ground and their powers grew. The crowd had been awakened once more, and he saw thousands of souls, just like his, awash throughout the stadium as each voice rang out to join their battle melody. Old lyrics turned fresh upon his tongue, twining with the words continued by his companions as his eyes burned gold with vindictive rage.
There once was a demon king
Nought but control he would bring
He feasted on souls deplored
The world trembled when he roared
Nothing could snuff out his spark
Gwi-Ma made a gurgling growl, hunched and crawling like an oil spill given form. Tattered flames clawed at the stage, too weak to leave more than a scuff of ash.
Hunters sang songs that did carve
Now all the king does is starve
He can't reach any more souls
And his flame swift becomes cold
Just a whisper in the dark
He felt unfamiliar yet reminiscent energy flood through him, tingling through his skin. Jinu stared down at the weak remnants of Gwi-Ma, suddenly alert as the demon king spat a pathetic blast of flame in one last ditch effort to destroy the Hunters.
And thus watch as the fire goes out
His grip tightened on the hilt, and he vanished, appearing in an instant to grab Zoey, then Mira, and teleport them both out of danger. They hovered in the air above the stage, catching their breath for a precious moment.
This is the end of him now
The girls were giving him looks of confused gratitude. He offered a short nod, spinning the sword in his grasp.
Dying king with a crumbling crown
One last blast of light, coalesced from the belief of the audience and the sacrificed soul, and–
I won't let her fire go out
“It's over,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against the flat of the blade as tears slipped down his cheeks.
Zoey hesitantly grabbed his arm. Mira touched their shoulders together. The audience was cheering. Daylight had snuffed out the darkness.
There was a faint ripple across the landscape. Zoey's hand clamped tighter, and Mira inhaled sharply.
“The… The Honmoon?” He stuttered.
Slowly, Mira nodded. “It's weak, but…”
Zoey stared up at him with big eyes. “It worked.”
*
The sword remained in his hand: unlike them, he couldn't vanish it at will.
He wouldn't want to, anyway.
They were hazy with exhaustion, but the girls insisted they had to visit someplace. Jinu wasn't going to argue – he didn't know how thin the ice he stood on was, with them. He couldn't blame them if they hated him: he hated himself.
The sword gave a warm pulse, almost admonishing, almost comforting. He cracked a small smile down at it as they walked.
A gentle breeze played through his tousled hair. The air was fresher, here. He looked up from the grass at his feet to see some kind of sacred grove. A massive tree stood proud in the centre, with leaf-clad boughs stretching across the skies, decorated with strips of fabric that fluttered in the currents.
He faltered. This felt like a place he wasn't welcome.
Zoey glanced back, posture slumped with exhaustion. “Jinu?”
“I–”
Curved metal slashed. His sentence was lost as he frantically disappeared in maroon smoke. He pressed himself against the rough bark of the thick tree trunk, chest heaving and gold-dark eyes wide with shock as he stared at the furious woman with a wild mane of greying black hair. She made to shoot towards him again with her sickle, but both Mira and Zoey grabbed her, jostling her, nearly throwing her back and summoning their own weapons in defense.
“Celine,” Mira said sharply. “He's with us.”
“He's a demon!” The ageing woman – Celine – snapped.
“He’s the reason we're alive!” Zoey snarled.
Celine paused suddenly, glancing between the two of them. “Wh… Where's Rumi? You must've succeeded in defeating Gwi-Ma – the Honmoon is back. So where–” she looked increasingly panicked at the shadowed faces– “where is she? Where is Rumi?”
“She…” Mira's voice broke, and she clutched onto Zoey, who was in floods of tears.
Slowly, Celine turned to him. She stared at the sword pulsing in his grasp. Jinu held it protectively across his torso, feeling a sting in his shoulder where the sickle had clipped him.
“No…” She whispered, then her ashen face grew thunderous. “No! Where is she, demon?!”
“Gwi-Ma killed her!” He yelled back, eyes flashing gold, but all his anger quickly drained and he slumped back miserably. “He… He killed her. I wasn't– I wasn't quick enough. I wasn't strong enough. She's…”
“She's gone,” Zoey whispered, near-silent, as if the low volume would keep it from being true.
Celine flagged, nearly collapsing. “But… The Honmoon…”
“Jinu,” Mira muttered, tilting her chin at him. "Somehow. Together.”
“I don’t… He’s– not a Hunter,” she said, soft, confused, grieving, staring at him with hollow brown eyes. “...how?”
He shook his head, brushing his fingers down the blade. “I don't know. I–” he hesitated, feeling stupid for having the thought, but– “I think… Rumi was… guiding me?”
The girls looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope casting across their faces.
“She was?” Zoey asked, letting her weapons vanish.
Mira did the same as she frowned slightly, beginning to trudge down to him. “You… You had her soul.”
“Her soul?” Celine uttered.
He pressed his hand to his chest, remembering the warmth of his own. “I didn't mean to. I meant to save her – I swear.”
“I know,” Zoey said in a small voice that ached with honesty and trust he didn't deserve.
“The soul went… into her sword, right?” Mira pressed, pace quickening in a way that had him nervous. “So is it possible that she's…”
The end of her sentence went unspoken as she stopped in front of him. Zoey wasn't far behind. Even Celine, perhaps simply worn down by grief and stress rather than acceptance of a demon, began to approach.
He looked at the sword, feeling the song of it in his veins. “It… It feels like her. But I don't know. It's not like this has happened before?”
The girls both reached out, pressing their fingertips to the flat of the blade. Mira's breath hitched and she snatched her hand back. Zoey's brown eyes welled with tears and she pushed her whole palm against it. Celine gave him a cautious glance, and he tried to make himself as unthreatening as possible, which wasn't hard when he felt defeated and deflated and despondent. She curled her hand around the blunt side of the sword, eyelids fluttering shut and pained lines on her face deepening as her lips pursed.
“That's her,” she choked out. “That's Rumi.”
Then, as though possessed, she whipped away, expression frenzied as she began stalking around the base of the tree, muttering to herself. Jinu sent the girls a questioning look, but they seemed just as confused as him.
“Somewhere… I swear… It's here somewhere…”
She suddenly gasped and dropped to her knees, casting aside her sickle in favour of scrabbling at the moss and dirt between some gnarled roots. An old wooden lid was gradually uncovered, and she shoved her fingers in the soil, heaving out a small box that she dropped on the ground next to her. There was a lock she didn't bother with, simply bashing it apart with the hilt of her weapon, and only then did she hesitate, before visibly steeling herself and pulling the lid open with a faint creak.
The trio exchanged glances, then flocked to her. Jinu stayed at the back, peering over Zoey's shoulder. Pieces of parchment were rolled up within, looking old enough to turn to dust if they were touched. Celine was cautious with picking them up, squinting down the curve of each centre before disregarding them, until she finally lit up and cradled one in her hands. Carefully, oh-so-carefully, she began to painstakingly unravel the scroll, all of them wincing at each crinkle and rip. Soon, it was delicately smoothed atop her lap with shaking hands.
Upon the aged paper was old writing – archaic Korean characters that had long since gone out of fashion.
“There was something… I was sure there was something about this… My predecessor mentioned it…” Celine muttered, tracing the ink without dirtying the paper. “If I could just decipher it…”
Jinu frowned thoughtfully as he scanned the writing. “A resurrection in case of a Hunter’s passing?”
Her head shot up so fast it must've hurt. “What– How did you know? It was supposed to be secret from the demo–”
“Uh,” he said awkwardly, pointing at it. “I can read? And I'm– Gwi-Ma's not in my head anymore. It's safe.”
She blinked. “You can read this? It's over four hundred years old.”
Jinu rubbed the back of his neck with an uncomfortable grimace. “...me too?”
She stared at him. Mira seemed weirded out. Zoey raised her brows.
“You look good for four hundred,” she offered with a weak attempt at a smile.
He snorted, keeping the sword safely at his side as he knelt next to Celine, who only barely stiffened. “Um, thank you, Zoey. I think.”
“There was a story my predecessor told me, once,” Celine began, “from many generations before her. A Hunter fell in battle, giving her soul to protect the Honmoon. They could sense her soul hadn't moved on, and in their desperation, they created a ritual to bring her back. I just hoped…”
Jinu didn't need any more incentive to decipher the scrawling handwriting, finger following each line as his mouth silently formed the words. Something grim and resigned settled in his gut with each passing word.
“Well…” He said weakly. “They sure hated demons.”
“You're a nice demon,” Zoey chipped in firmly.
“That's– Thank you, but that's not what I really…” He sighed, touching the sword with fresh resolve. “I think the ritual will work.”
“Really?!” Mira exclaimed.
“What does it say?” Celine asked desperately. “What do we need to do?”
He shifted uncomfortably, standing up and avoiding their eyes. “First, as many Hunters as remain. Your voices hold power between realms.”
Zoey nodded eagerly. “Okay, okay!”
“Second, objects of importance to her. A tether to this world.” He let out a breath, staring at the shimmer of the sword. “We, uh, we have everything we need for the final bit, so…” He trailed off.
Mira paused, looking at him warily. “...what do we need?”
“In short–” he gritted his teeth, flashing a tired smile– “me.”
“What?!” Zoey yelped.
He turned away from them, wincing at the pulse of horror from the sword, and instead began to walk away as if he had an aim, as if his hands weren't trembling. “Let's– Let's get on with it. You need Rumi back.”
“He's right. We can't waste time. Who knows how long this Honmoon will hold?” Celine said eagerly, fervently, grabbing the box and rushing after him.
A hand yanked his arm back, and he withheld a hiss of pain as his shoulder wound was jostled. He narrowed his eyes at Mira, who glared right back without fear, digging her sharp nails into his skin.
“Jinu. You can't just say that and then run,” she snapped at him. “What, exactly, does the ritual need you for?”
He set his jaw, scanning his surroundings. “Demon blood. Demon heart. Demon body. All of which I can provide.”
Her arm dropped, face slack with shock.
He wasn't selfish. He refused to be selfish, this time.
It would be a pretty place to die, anyway.
“A… A sacrifice?” Zoey whispered, shaking her head. “No, you– you can't– you're nice–”
“You need to restore the Honmoon fully,” he told the girls with a flat voice, steadier than he felt. “If Gwi-Ma gets back up here…”
“We can't let that happen,” Celine agreed, gaze hardened.
“No, we won't let this happen!” Zoey argued, hands balled into fists.
“Zoey's right,” Mira stated, grabbing the wooden box from Celine's hands. “One scroll can't tell us enough. What if there's more? What if it went wrong?”
Celine shook her head, lips thinned into a displeased line. “My predecessor said it worked. The Hunter returned. They safely restored the Honmoon. If this is a choice he is willing to make, it has to be done, don't you see?!”
Mira crossed her arms defiantly. “No. I refuse to help. I love Rumi, b-but– we can't just kill Jinu. I can't accept that as an okay trade-off. That's not chill.”
“The Honmoon will hold for a bit, right?” Zoey added, tapping the box. “That means Jinu has time to read what else is in here. If– If we have no choice, then… But what if there is a choice?”
The sword seemed relieved with the proceedings. He glanced down at where he held it by his side, glowing blade brushing grass. Rumi didn't want him to sacrifice himself.
She was too selfless.
He swallowed. “Okay. I'll check it out.”
Jinu felt like a coward. The hilt gently shocked his palm, as though scolding. He rubbed his thumb over it, lips quirked into a small, tired smile. Even in whatever half-life she resided in, Rumi was determined to make him an optimist.
*
An old leather-bound journal crackled within his hands. The twine wrapping it shut fell away, nearly dust. He cautiously opened it, wincing at every crack and rustle, but it survived being opened.
There was no fanciful ‘Dear Diary,’ just random scraps of parchment that seemed to have been bound at a later date. The first page was incoherent, all scrawled handwriting smudged with tear-blotted ink. Hopefully nothing important used to be there.
He carefully flipped ahead to the first legible page, where the characters became more stable, where the content became more coherent, skim-reading through grief until he zeroed in on the word ritual. Jinu settled more comfortably on the warm, flat rock, sword at his side, and began to read through.
The girls were restless, and often took turns sitting at his side in silence as the grim day progressed. Mira liked to grab sticks and sharpen them to a point with a glinting knife. There was a concerning pile growing next to her. Zoey preferred to scribble away in the notebook Celine had given her, perhaps inventing rituals of her own in that fast brain of hers. Celine herself paced and stalked, shooting him impatient and irritable glances when she thought he wasn't looking.
She wanted him gone. He was a demon: she, a Hunter. That was the natural order of things.
“Anything yet?” Mira asked idly, curling another shave of wood off her latest stick.
“There was a lot of trial and error. They researched… Folklore, dark magic, things like that.” He touched the page, a frown pulling at his mouth. “They were ashamed of themselves. Horrified by what they were resorting to. No better than demons, she wrote. But they were desperate…”
She huffed through her teeth. “...yeah, well… I guess we get that…”
The girls liked to ask him to summarise aloud. Celine felt more like an interrogation, every word analysed for lies, as though she was convinced he'd lead them to their doom. There was no point in trying to convince her otherwise: she'd never believe a demon.
Zoey placed a lamp between them as she settled down, casting welcome light across the pages as dusk drew in. “What did they do?”
“Tested with animals, but it didn't work.” Jinu grimaced. “And, uh, a human corpse. Nothing. They tried demons, but most disappeared, until– until there was one without the usual large fangs, monstrous features… one more human-looking.”
A cursed human, he thought with a bitter smile, like me. Perfect.
“She– She bled. She had a heart. She had a body. All they'd discovered they'd needed for resurrection,” he told them, unable to hide his discomfort. “She didn't vanish, so they kept her bound with magic until they figured out a chant that would summon the soul back to the offered body. It– It worked. The soul entered the vessel, and it reformed into the Hunter.”
“Oh,” Zoey croaked, looking up at him with eyes glimmering in the warm lamp light. “That's…”
“Messed up,” Mira finished, sounding hollow and sick. “Keep… Keep reading. There has to be another way.”
The sword hummed against his hip in firm agreement. He stroked it, eyes tired. They were all in denial. If there was another way, one less morally ambiguous, it would already be known. This ritual would've been long gone.
Still, he read. The stars watched.
“They knew this was dangerous magic,” he spoke softly after a while, stirring Zoey from her doze against his good shoulder. “But they couldn't risk destroying it in case future Hunters needed help, so… they hid it. For emergencies.”
“Like now,” she mumbled, shuffling closer to him to get more comfortable.
He turned a page, blinking blearily in surprise when he realised it was the end of the journal. There was only a small piece of parchment, nearly completely ripped out, with a few characters hastily scribbled. It was edged with the ancient lines of a bloody thumb print.
No matter how many times he re-read the short passage, the contents didn't settle any more happily with him. Unease merely latched around his gut, forging into cold fear that clenched and twisted.
This was supposed to be easy. He would sacrifice himself, prove he wasn't selfish, Rumi would return, and everything would be okay.
“Jinu?” Mira queried sleepily, still stubbornly awake. “What's wrong?”
He considered keeping it to himself. Perhaps everything would work out fine. Perhaps it would be second time lucky.
But, the thought of Rumi–
“The Hunter,” his voice was strained, and he let the book lay open in his lap, displaying the final note that wordlessly conveyed bad news. “She– She came back… different. Darker. Wrong.”
“Oh, god,” she rasped, staring at the imprinted blood.
Celine strode up to them. “But they must've succeeded. The Honmoon still stood.”
“Yes. She was… herself enough to seal the Honmoon–” he faltered, pressing his hand to the sword– “but other enough to be… dangerous. The demon vessel– uh, it infected her, they think.”
“But, you said it yourself–” she pressed, almost manic– “you're cut off from Gwi-Ma. Your patterns have changed – they're not like any demon I've ever seen.”
“Rumi–” Zoey stuttered, expression crumpling– “Rumi’s patterns were like that. When she came back. Before she…”
“And she was– She saved us,” Mira confirmed, focusing too hard on her pile of sharp sticks. “Gwi-Ma didn't control her. Couldn't.”
“You're not evil,” Celine stated, leaning towards him, dark circles under her eyes. “You're… different.”
That was… almost a compliment. The sword seemed surprised, too.
“They used an ordinary demon,” she continued, beginning to pace again. “It went wrong, because the demon was evil. I believe it will turn out better, with you.”
Zoey wrapped herself around his arm, suddenly wide awake. “You can't–”
“We don't have a choice!” Celine hissed. “The next generation of Hunters are yet to be born. The three of us are not in harmony. You two cannot hold the Honmoon alone. Rumi needs to return… by any means necessary.”
It felt like the sword howled against his palm.
He took his hand away.
*
Jinu blankly transcribed the ritual scroll onto a modern piece of paper. He wrote the chant, copied the notes needed for the harmony. Teary-eyed and reluctant, the girls read the ritual. Celine made haste to devour the words. The Honmoon continued to ripple weakly, tiredly, in a way he could sympathise with.
He glanced at the sword, left on the flat rock nearby. Jinu didn't have the courage to touch it again, yet that didn't stop him from feeling the ache in his chest, the sadness not his own, the desperation clawing at the edges of his mind–
A burble. He watched with wide eyes as a small blue tiger with big orange eyes began to rise from a blue portal next to the sword, which rattled in place slightly. There was a bird on his head, wearing a little black top hat and looking delightfully smug about it.
Celine had her sickle out in a blink, looking terrified and betrayed. “I thought you said you were cut off from Gwi-Ma?!”
“Uh, I am. These two kind of… do their own thing,” Jinu admitted sheepishly, standing up and stretching out the ache in his body before heading over to them. “The tiger is Derpy. The bird is Sussy. They're my friends– I think…”
Derpy butted his large head against Jinu’s hand. He looked down, spotting a familiar woven bracelet hanging off one of the large white fangs. Jinu gave a pained smile, lifting it free and holding it in shaking hands for a moment, then slipped it onto his wrist.
Hopeless. He… He was more than that. He had to be. He would prove it.
For her.
Zoey hesitantly reached out, glancing at Jinu for reassurance before placing her hand on the tiger's head. She giggled when Derpy trilled and nuzzled into her palm.
“Oh, he's sweet,” she cooed.
“The bird isn't,” Jinu grumbled, glaring at the creature that smirked back, as always.
“He looks mysterious. I like it,” Mira remarked, only making the demon magpie even more smug.
Celine growled, pulling the girls back and protectively snatching the sword. "Stop wasting time! We must prepare the ritual!”
She suddenly winced, letting out a soft gasp and dropping the sword. The woman stared at it in frazzled disbelief, then frowned.
“It's for your own good, Rumi, why must you be so difficult?” She snapped, turning back to assess the transcribed scroll once more.
*
Jinu barely flinched as Celine drew her sickle across the back of his forearm, surprisingly carefully. She wet her fingertips with the blood that welled up, beginning to spread it on the flat rock he was kneeling on. He followed suit, dutifully smearing his own life-force in a complicated circle around him.
Derpy warbled in concern. Even Sussy seemed uncharacteristically worried. When the tiger tried to approach, the woman pushed him away, baring her teeth.
Zoey looked to be holding back tears as she presented the sword, gently placing it down in front of him with a sniffle. She dropped a rumpled pair of patterned pyjama pants next to it. Mira added a purple hair-tie, stiffly glancing up at Jinu with a deeply troubled expression, mouth opening as though she wanted to speak, but she averted her eyes and stepped back. Celine cradled a folded shirt, then swept it onto the rock.
Subtly, Jinu slipped the bracelet off his wrist, putting it with the other offerings.
Maybe he was just being sentimental, but… he hoped it meant something to her, too.
He kept his dark eyes on the panicked pulse of the glowing sword by his knees. The girls reluctantly encircled him, joining hands with the ageing Hunter. After a strained silence, Celine gave a frustrated huff and started to sing the first note. It was a few more beats before Mira quietly joined, then Zoey, their voices noticeably tight with emotion. The tune began in earnest, each otherworldly voice weaving together in a tune that should've been beautiful in any other setting, lilting and soothing, drifting over the landscape.
For the briefest moment, the Honmoon rippled along beneath him.
Jinu clenched his hands in his lap, bunching the black fabric of his pants. He stared, stiff and resolute, at the offerings, even as his vision began to blur and that desperation clawed at his chest like a trapped animal. It didn't matter if he was scared. She was only gone because of him.
A life for a life.
The song wavered momentarily as Celine dropped out, but the girls held strong. He was proud of them. It must've been difficult, but they all knew this was for the best.
Rumi was more important.
Celine began to speak. Her voice carried like the echoes of a scream through a mountain range.
The sword rattled slightly. They didn't notice. He ignored it.
Dark that takes, return her
His vision flickered.
Blood that spills, refill her
His arm burned.
Heart that beats, revive her
His chest ached.
Vessel that lives, serve her
His breath froze.
Soul that wanders, live here
Light. Dark. Other. Rumi's face was a smudged haze. He smiled distantly.
That's a good last thing to see, he thought, content.
Jinu crumpled.
*
He gasped. Cold. Wet.
“That wasn't the holy water, right…?”
“Zoey!”
Jinu choked and spluttered, inhaling sharply and scrambling to sit up, wild-eyed with alarm. He went to wipe his sopping black hair off his face, then stilled, head spinning dizzyingly.
His body. His movements. No… The ritual couldn't have–
“Jinu,” a gentle voice said, cracking.
He whipped his head back to look up, then shot to his feet, nearly slipping on the slick surface of the rock, barely given a chance to catch his balance before a small figure threw herself at him in a weeping hug, pummelling his chest weakly as she sobbed against him. Jinu realised he was crying too, frozen in a daze for a moment more before his mind caught up and he clutched Rumi tightly to his body, fingers digging into the soft shirt, his face dropping to press into the top of her loose purple hair. She didn't seem to care that he was soaked through, grabbing vicious fistfuls of his baggy black shirt and shaking violently under his touch, each keening cry breaking his heart a little more.
He'd lost her. He'd lost her.
“Is he okay?” Mira asked urgently, pushing her hands against both their biceps. “Is Jinu okay?!”
Rumi was quick to press her ear to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut and going tense, and then in a breath of relief, she nearly collapsed in his arms, giving a radiant smile that could outdo the sun. “It's beating. His heart.”
“You're alive,” he breathed fervently, one hand tangling from the nape of her neck to her scalp as she gazed up at him. “You're alive.”
“You're okay?” She asked, nervously, desperately, gripping onto him just as anxiously as he was to her.
“I'm–” he couldn't help but laugh wetly– “Rumi, you're alive! Of course I'm okay!”
“But you said the ritual was supposed to make me– like, take over your body!” She slammed another fist weakly into his chest. “Don't ever do that again! You didn't want to lose me, but did you ever think that I didn't want to lose you?! You stupid–”
She broke into sobs again, and he hugged her impossibly tighter, trying to blink his vision clear of tears. Mira seemed relieved, wrapping an arm around Zoey as if it was the only thing keeping them upright. Celine watched uneasily, fingers tapping on her thigh.
“I'd hoped Derpy and Sussy would stop you,” Rumi sniffled into him. “I don't know how they sensed me, but they came when I asked. But you– you didn't stop– you just– you did the ritual anyway!”
“I don't understand,” Jinu said finally, sounding ragged, seeing the slice across his arm and the scarlet streaks mingling with pale patterns. “Why didn't the ritual work like it said?”
The girls exchanged glances.
“We… have some theories,” Mira responded slowly. “We talked it over while you were out of it.”
“Weapons normally vanish with the summoner,” Celine explained stiffly. “This one might've absorbed enough of her before the hellfire did, so it stayed longer, strengthened into permanence by her soul. We believe it counted as the vessel for her to inhabit, as it vanished when she reappeared.”
“You saved her soul, so you saved her,” Zoey added softly. “Thank you, Jinu.”
“I…” Words failed him.
“The blood was there. The ritual didn't exactly specify how much was needed–” Mira paused, squinting thoughtfully at him– “but what we can't understand… The heart. You're still in one piece. It's not like the ritual just ripped it out of your chest.”
He reluctantly removed one hand from Rumi, placing it on his chest and feeling the gentle pumping under his fingers. Jinu was very much alive in a very confusing, possibly-part-demon, post-ritual-that-was-supposed-to-kill-him state. After preparing himself for the end, he didn't know what to do with this beginning.
His heart… Why hadn't it gone to Rumi?
Jinu suddenly flushed at the utterly cliché thought that hit him, and he bashfully turned his face away, trying to hide the pink on his cheeks. It was a ridiculous answer, but perhaps the only one that made sense.
“What is it?” Zoey asked curiously. “Are you okay?”
He pressed a hand to his face with a muffled exhale of embarrassment. “She… She already has my heart.”
The others looked confused. Then, with an expression so wonderfully innocent it was almost worth his humiliation, it visibly dawned on Rumi.
She looked at him, wide-eyed with gold flickering in her irises. There was a merciful blush gracing her perfect cheeks, too. He mustered up a smile, a flurry of feelings fluttering in his chest when she gave a slow, delighted smile back. Her expression abruptly turned determined, and without further warning, she grabbed his face and dragged him down into an electrifying kiss. She pulled away quickly, leaving him chasing air with an involuntary whine of displeasure in his throat, blinking dazedly in disappointment with his hands uncertainly settling upon her shoulders. Rumi was looking anywhere but him, her face aflame, shifting nervously on her feet. Her gold-dark eyes briefly met his, full of softness and adoration and– something he didn't dare give name to.
Jinu mentally shook some sense back into himself, trying not to focus on the memory of her sweet lips. He could see that the others understood his cheesy statement, now, as well. Wasn't that just embarrassing?
Zoey was shamelessly gawping at them, but it rapidly switched into a joyful grin as she cooed, hands ruffling up Derpy in her cuteness aggression. Mira jokingly gagged, but quirked her brow in interest and smirked their way, bobbing her shoulder to emphasise Sussy perched there. Celine looked a little hesitant, but dipped her head in reluctant acceptance towards Jinu, at least looking faintly happy that Rumi was happy, then turned her head away.
“So… You're alive. And you're not corrupted by my evil demon influence,” he remarked mirthfully.
“And you're alive and okay, too.” She slipped the bracelet off her wrist and onto his, staring up at him with a slight, worried furrow between her brows. “We– We got really lucky, the way that ritual turned out. It could've been really dangerous.”
“I know,” he agreed quietly, fiercely. “But I'd do anything to get you back.”
Rumi's gaze flicked between his eyes. “...I'd do the same. You deserve to be free, Jinu.”
Wearing her mother's shirt, her own cutesy pyjama pants, with her long amethyst hair half in disarray, she should've looked a mess after coming back from the dead, and yet… Jinu had never seen anyone look so beautiful.
As the misty dawn light seeped over the sacred grove, Jinu kissed her gently, happily–
Lovingly.