Chapter Text
A sour stench slammed Mira’s nostrils as she unscrewed the bottle of hair dye. Once again, it was that time. Her roots were showing, just the faintest discolouration poking up above her scalp. As the visual for Huntrix, she had an image to maintain. But that didn’t make it any easier. ‘Twas the same ordeal, every six weeks. A sensory assault, with that stink following her around until the dye had processed and been rinsed off. As bad as it was for Mira, it was even worse for Zoey. Said odour overstimulated her sense of smell. So much so that whenever Mira dyed her hair, Zoey would have to keep her distance until it was all finished.
Normally, that didn’t bother Mira too badly. But this time was different. After the events at Namsan Tower two weeks ago, they had talked things out. Over the following days, they’d all grown closer. Much closer. The thought of Zoey having to stay away, even for an hour or so, now sent a pang of sorrow through Mira’s heart. Perhaps she could dye her hair later this afternoon, just before going to bed. Her roots could show for a day or so. After all, they were on hiatus, and under strict instructions not to work. Bobby had been quite firm about that.
With that in mind, Mira screwed the lid back onto the bottle. After getting changed, she strode out into the main area of the penthouse. This time, much more pleasant aromas filled the air. Rumi moved about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Zoey sat on a stool at the counter, watching and talking. Mira joined her, taking the next one over. Greetings were exchanged, then Zoey’s eyes flicked up to the top of Mira’s head.
“I know,” said the taller woman. “It’s that time again.”
Without looking around, Rumi gestured towards their bedrooms with a spatula.
“That time? Oh. The heating pad’s in my room. There’s some EVE-A in the medicine cupboard, too.”
Mira blinked.
“What? No, not that time. It’s-”
She broke off as her gaze landed on Rumi’s braid. As usual, ‘twas perfectly dyed purple. Now that she thought about it, Mira realised she’d never seen Rumi’s roots.
“Rumi, how do you do your hair?”
Rumi turned around, a bemused frown creasing her brow. With her free hand, she pointed to her head.
“Like this. You’ve helped me with it.”
To Mira’s left, Zoey chuckled.
“I think she meant the dye job, Rums.”
Rumi’s frown deepened.
“Dye job? I don’t…I’ve never done that.”
Both of her bandmates bent forward, hands slapping the counter. A single word simultaneously shot from them.
“What?!”
Zoey leaned further over, pushing herself up off the counter.
“You’re really saying that’s your natural hair colour?”
Rumi just shrugged. Her patterns flashed red for a heartbeat. It caught Mira’s gaze. Her eyes widened as realisation dawned. These days, Rumi’s patterns usually matched the iridescence of the Honmoon. Strong feelings would elicit flashes of different colours. But on that night, when those demonic duplicates had ripped her jacket off, they’d been purple. Almost the same shade as her hair.
“It’s because you’re half-demon, isn’t it?” Mira asked. Both Zoey and Rumi turned to her. The latter gave another shrug.
“I guess. Just never really thought about it.”
Mira nodded. That explained a bit. How she’d never smelled the stink of hair dye from Rumi’s room, how Zoey had never had to distance herself from their leader.
“Mira, why don’t you go natural, like us? We are on hiatus,” Zoey said. Mira didn’t reply immediately. Her breath caught in her throat. She stood abruptly, the stool wobbling beneath her. With a few swift strides, she made her way to the coffee machine. As she poured herself a cup, she felt her hands shaking. No more secrets. That’s what they’d promised two weeks ago. But she had been keeping one, albeit unintentionally.
“Mira? What’s going on?”
Rumi’s voice, from just over her shoulder, caused Mira to jump. She stepped back and sipped her drink, trying to stop her racing heart.
“Sorry,” Rumi said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” Mira replied. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Rumi and Zoey exchanged a look. A worried frown creased the latter’s brow. But Rumi’s expression was soft. She met Mira’s gaze. No judgement or anger filled those beautiful brown eyes. Just concern.
“It is about my parents-”
She broke off. Rumi had clasped Mira’s free hand in hers. That warm touch grounded the dancer. Seconds later, another pair of arms wrapped around her waist, from her right.
“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Zoey assured her.
“It’s not exactly demon marks,” Mira replied without thinking. A chuckle came from her left. Good, she hadn’t offended Rumi. She took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out.
“My father’s hair went grey by the time he was thirty. Family secret, he’s been dying it for decades,” Mira said. Her voice shook, but she continued. “He taught my brother and me how to do that, too. We’d both inherited that gene.”
A bitter laugh escaped her, little more than a bark.
“One of the few moments he actually seemed like a father. But it was for the family’s benefit, of course. Couldn’t have nature interfere with our image. Just cover it up and keep going.”
“I know how you feel,” came a whisper from Mira’s left. She turned, meeting Rumi’s gaze. This time, understanding was joined by something else. Sadness, if the tears welling up were anything to go by. Rumi released Mira’s hand and dashed back over to the stove.
“Sorry, this’ll burn if I don’t look after it.”
“Right,” Mira replied. She didn’t buy it. Something she’d said had startled Rumi. Part of her wanted to demand answers. But the last time she had tried that, an entire subway train of people had died. Her fingers twitched, but she managed to restrain herself. Barely. She did not want to push Rumi away. To risk losing her again.
“So, was it already silver when you went pink?” Zoey asked, cutting through Mira’s thoughts. The taller woman thought back.
“About half of it.”
Zoey nodded, and her eyes landed on the top of Mira’s head. A familiar gaze came into them. Usually, it meant their maknae was in the middle of thinking up lyrics. But this time, Mira suspected Zoey was imagining something else. Before long, a hungry smile curved Zoey’s mouth. Her tongue poked out, licking her lips.
“You know, Mira, I think that look would suit you,” she said. Mira’s heart raced, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. While she didn’t mind that sort of reaction from Zoey, this was not the best time.
Breakfast was soon served, and the three women tucked in. But Mira still couldn’t relax. Rumi seemed fine now, chatting away as usual. Yet she had been startled. They’d have to keep an eye on that. But that wasn’t the only thing bothering Mira. Ever since her little confession, something had been gnawing at her. Despite the comfort from her girlfriends, the tremble in her hands hadn’t quite gone.
Zoey was talking about some new turtle research, a recent discovery. Rumi was asking questions, but the maknae’s words just bounced off Mira. Maybe the other two shot Mira a concerned glance, but she didn’t really notice.
Dyeing her hair had become a habit. Simply a routine she’d done for the better part of a decade now. This morning was the first time in years she had actually thought about what she was doing. How she was still doing what her father wanted, even if it was in a manner that had infuriated him. She had built her entire image on being a rebel. Yet in one of the most iconic aspects of her appearance, she wasn’t really rebelling at all.
“Mira?”
Mira blinked. Zoey stood before her, a hand on her knee. Mira hadn’t even noticed the maknae’s gentle touch. A worried frown creased the shorter woman’s brow. Behind her, Rumi shared a similar look. Her patterns glowed a pale yellow colour, which they’d recently learned meant concern.
“Just thinking,” Mira explained.
“About your parents?” Rumi asked. Mira nodded. Rumi’s expression remained the same, but something shifted in her gaze. It was the second time this had spooked her. Mira thought back. What had she said earlier?
“It’s not exactly demon marks.”
“Just cover it up and keep going.”
Those two thoughts collided, and realisation thundered through Mira’s mind. Her father had told her to conceal this grey hair to avoid bringing disgrace on the family. ‘Twas similar what Celine had said to Rumi. Lower stakes, that was true. But the same shame.
Mira blinked. She’d been staring at those iridescent patterns. Patterns Rumi had embraced in the last couple of weeks.
“Do you really think I could pull off the silver look?” Mira heard herself asking. Zoey’s head nodded as though it were one of those bobblehead dolls. Rumi’s patterns glowed a deep pink, darker than most of Mira’s hair. Her cheeks almost matched it. Mira could’ve guessed what that colour meant, but she didn’t want Rumi too flustered. Right now, it was just enough to be cute.
“Yes,” Rumi said a few moments later. “It may allow you to be more flexible, too.”
Zoey raised an eyebrow.
“You weren’t complaining about her flexibility last night.”
The sound Rumi made would have put a teakettle to shame. A light chuckle escaped Mira.
“Careful, Zo. Too much and she’ll vanish up to the roof again.”
Zoey smiled, and her eyes twinkled.
“There’s my Mimi.”
Mira chuckled again, her funk gone.
“That’s not what I meant!” Rumi spluttered, having found her voice. With her right hand, she waved to her tank top and the patterns it half-covered.
“I couldn’t have worn this three weeks ago,” Rumi continued. Mira bit back the reply on her lips. Rumi could’ve done so. They would have understood, with a calm explanation. She shook her head. Now was not the time for wallowing in what could have been.
“Oh!” Zoey exclaimed. “It’s the colours, isn’t it? Mimi, you’ve said there are some shades you can’t wear, that they’d clash with your hair.”
A nod from Rumi punctuated the maknae’s sentence. Mira almost sighed. This had just shifted the problem. Hair grew slowly. To let it grow out would take months, if not a year. Especially with the length she wore.
Realisation dawned a heartbeat later, bringing a grin with it. She wouldn’t have to wait at all.
“Zo,” Mira said. “You still doing that snack run today?”
Zoey nodded.
“I finally got a lead on that chocolate I was looking for. It may be a bit out of our way.”
“That’s okay,” Mira replied. Any supermarket should have what she needed. Both women turned to Rumi, inquiring looks on their faces. The half-demon glanced down.
“I was going to look at some costume designs. See what I can put with my patterns.”
“Rumiii!” Zoey protested. She stepped over and lay her hands on the purple-haired woman’s shoulders. Mira stifled a smirk. She knew what was coming next.
Sure enough, Zoey’s gaze softened. Her entire expression took on a cute, chibi-like quality. Mira didn’t know how she did it, but it worked. Rumi was already starting to melt.
“I suppose that could wait until later,” Rumi admitted. “But Bobby’s stopping by for lunch. I was hoping to discuss some ideas with him.”
Mira got to her feet. She bent down, bringing her eyes level with Rumi’s.
“Come on, Princess. We’re not supposed to be working.”
Dining with Bobby didn’t count. That was social. He’d been visiting once or twice a week since the Idol Awards.
“Alright,” Rumi said. “Let’s do this.”
The other two women grinned. A few minutes later, they’d changed into their usual disguises and were heading down in the lift.
Mira appeared calm, but the flutter in her stomach wouldn’t go away. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Making her decision had been one thing, but now the reality of carrying it out lay before her.