Chapter Text
Aching joints and hardened muscles, strength that was made so obvious. Movements of speed, carved with beauty, and powerful punches that left no room for mistakes. This is the strength that Mira believed in. It's what she saw in the hunter before her.
She remembered her first meeting with her mentor, before she knew what might be of her life—how afraid she was as these creatures of undead lunged at her, the cold of a winter's night surrounding her.
Celine didn't hesitate to throw herself in the face of danger, pushing Mira out of harm's way. That was the first time she saw this strength exude from the woman, and the body that was turned away from her. Even under the long sleeved coat, the dignity and grace held by her showed of all her experiences.
It was also here that Mira vowed to become just like Celine, someone with the strength to protect those she loved.
Celine was a tough teacher, an even tougher trainer. A leader who made soldiers out of singers. Days of sparring turned into months; Time marched forward, and Mira learned to adapt, strength came easy, her limbs now sturdier than ever. But as the rolling of hills turned into valleys, so did the wisdom that came only with time separate herself and Celine.
Her teacher spoke to her one late evening, the twilight sky overhead, the honmoon's sapphire threads weaved around her, moving alongside her every step. She remembers training on her own, long past her mentor's dismissal, practising the footwork taught to her that day. Celine came up from behind, steps near impossible to notice.
“You should be resting.”
Mira startled, body flinching at the sound as she stumbled onto the grassy surface below.
“Shit—A warning would be nice.”
“There's no warning when you're out there on the field, and besides, you would've noticed had you not disobeyed my instructions.” The woman replied, hand outstretched, pulling her up from the ground.
She frowned at the scolding, “Well how else can I become as strong as you!”
A breath, inhaled and held, the air stilled around them, “what does strength mean to you, Mira?”
What a ridiculous question, obviously strength was the power that one had, the abilities to push beyond physical limits. It's what Mira answered the woman's question with. Celine had an impassive look on her face at that response.
“There is more to strength than just your body.” The older spoke, a belief she clearly held in high regards.
“You can only say that because you beat us in sparring today, and besides you taught us to go further than our limits,” she grumbled.
“Yes, on the battlefield, you must do whatever it takes to win the fight, but here, while you're still a young hunter, you must accept your shortcomings, meditate on them, and rest whenever you need to.”
Mira had only scoffed at that. “If I don't push my body, then how will I be like you?”
“Your goal shouldn't be me, look further than that.” Celine was no longer facing her, shoulders stiffened again.
Mira didn't know how to respond, Celine was the best person she knew, how was she to surpass that?
“One day, when your answer changes, do tell me.” And with that, she walked away, leaving Mira to yet again stare at that stretch of skin.
A mountain formed between them, a valley of the unknown dividing the two. She didn't understand those words, too young and naive to comprehend. But it's also this moment that the vision of strength she associated with those ever moving, sturdy muscles shifted to one of solitude.
Mira knows of loneliness, the emptiness of wanting more. Her family always ridiculed her, never giving her a moment to stand on her own. They left her feeling like a black sheep, unwanted by her own blood. She felt that hunger, that thirst for more, the heavy constraints of duty to her family once held her down.
But after Celine took her in, and she was able to truly express all of herself, the loneliness that crawled underneath her skin was no longer as desperate as before.
That instance in the training yard showed Mira that Celine had been shouldering the same burden. A weight chained to the woman's neck, bearing its load upon her. Gravity seemed to rest itself on her mentor, Mira saw it in the slight hunch of her spine. Was that always there? How did it take so long for her to notice?
Mountains, Mira noticed, were a bit like Celine—the way they stand towering above all, head lost in the clouds, too far beyond human reach.
When Mira first met the former idol, she thought the woman would be arrogant, a snob, like all the adults she knew. What she didn't expect was the gentleness and kindness that came from her. She should've noticed that the woman that welcomed her also knows of isolation.
Just as mountains had their own patterns of rainfall, so too did Celine have her bouts of loneliness. Mira saw it in the painful stretch of her muscles, shoulders turned inward. Her face would always be set in a cold stony gaze, whatever instructions she left for the girls were always to be done without her, as she'd then lock herself away in her bedroom or office. Only Rumi was allowed in those spaces when the woman behaved in such a manner, but the girl rarely ever disturbed Celine when she was lost in these moments.
Another memory she had came to light, an early morning spent indoors. Celine was the first to wake, always the one to cook their shared breakfast. Mira sometimes joined in on the preparations, this simple ritual a point of bonding between mentor and trainee. It was one particular morning, when she stepped into the living space, and again saw the back of the older hunter facing her.
She was about to greet her good morning, but the sight in front of her caused her to falter. Celine was sitting at the kitchen's island, body made uncomfortably small, head pressed heavily into shaking hands. That once strong and immovable back, flexed taut. There was nothing but anguish coming from the woman.
Loneliness, solitude, isolation. All of these emotions screamed out at Mira. She knew their names well, they made themselves at home within her. These very feelings were made obvious here in the quiet morning's blue. The birds chirped their sweet melodic song, a harsh contrast to the shivering that erupted from Celine.
No sounds escaped her though, the cries were silent, just like much of Celine's habits. The convulsing sobs almost looked ill; Celine, even in the emptiness of the room, refused to let herself feel wholly.
Mira felt stuck in that moment, feet glued to wooden boards, while her heart screamed at her to leave. She didn't have much of a choice though, as only seconds later she was found out. Celine snapped her head towards the entrance, quickly wiping the tears that streaked her face. Neither said anything for a few painful seconds, Celine still trying to hold herself together, and Mira froze with apprehension.
Eventually, Celine broke the tension, “Sorry, Mira—” another steadying breath, “today is difficult for me.”
Oh, realization struck the girl, she forgot what day it was. Of course Celine was falling apart, it was the death anniversary of Miyeong, her former idol and hunter. No wonder Celine was acting so weird all throughout the week. Rumi too, Mira realised, both guardian and ward, dancing around each other, afraid of stepping too close.
“...I'm sorry.” She was at a loss for words, comfort was never her thing, especially not for any adults in her life.
“No, it's alright, I should be used to this already.”
“I don't think grief has an expiration.”
Mira doesn't know what it's like to mourn for the dead, but she has mourned for the living, for her parents and what they could've, should've been for her. Even after eighteen years, she still yearned for their love.
Celine had been alone for all the years Mira lived, the Sunlight Sisters disbandment happening just months before her birth.
What was it like to spend all that time alone? Mira had Zoey and Rumi at her side, but what about Celine? How was the woman shouldering those burdens with no support?
A heavy sigh sounded from the woman in front of her, “You must be hungry, I'll start on breakfast.”
Mira knew the sound of a dismissal, she watched as Celine wrapped her cardigan tightly around her. She hid all her scars again, the ones running across her skin, and those that made her heart bleed.
The downpours of rain, fog that remained over the hillsides, her mentor covered her skin as though it could block all her problems, leaving no signs of her self proclaimed weaknesses. Her solitude became a mask for that vulnerability, steeling herself away to hide those messy parts.
She'd let the clouds roll in, thick and heavy, bearing its storm.
And now, she's here at Celine's home, the place that took her in when she had nothing else. Much of her teenage years were spent in these halls, and yet so many secrets remained.
Mira didn't even want to talk to the woman—betrayal wasn't something she took lightly, but after all the years of lying and mistrust, she needed some answers. She came armed with anger, it rested heavily on her back, aching to be released, its venom dripping down her throat.
“Do you think it was my intention to hurt her? I love her like she's my own—raised her to do what I thought was right”
A fresh wave of hurt flickers across her heart, “You raised me too—why couldn't you trust me Celine.”
She sees the way her mentor pauses, how her shoulders draw back.
“You were a better mother to me than my own…you should've told me.”
Celine stops for a second, giving Mira space to breathe, but then she does something completely unexpected, lowering herself into a bow.
“I know my actions were wrong, nothing could change that, but know that it was never my desire to hurt her, or any of you.”
Mira once more is at a loss for words. Instead, her eyes wander over the marred surface of Celine's back, seeing all the scars under the light of day. Mira had once thought that this represented all of Celine's strengths, aiming to become just like the woman. But now, these scars carry across an air of vulnerability.
Jagged scars that were scattered ungraciously—these Mira remembers. They were easy to spot during the moments Celine had them uncovered, they easily distracted from the smaller thin pale-white line that extends from her shoulder blade to her collarbone. Ebony black strands of hair usually covers it. This one is peculiar, its placement and even cut shows that it was an intentional blow. Mira wonders how she would've received such a scar. It seemed as if it came from a sharp weapon whose user must have been well experienced.
She continues to gaze over Celine's hunched over form, every bump of her spinal column visible in the harshness of the overhead light. Shadows made the bony protrusions more obvious. How is it that this impossibly strong back now looks so unguarded?
Finally, she replies, “Do you remember our conversation in the garden? When you asked what strength meant to me?” Mira doesn't wait for an answer before continuing, “I wanted to be just like you… the way you were always so dedicated, so powerful. I thought your body was proof of that strength. It's what I strove for but you told me that I shouldn't be like you… well, I get it now. You hid all your faults behind that mask of strength, distancing yourself from us as if that could solve any of your problems.”
Celine raises her head, saying nothing in favour of listening to Mira's every word.
“Strength is being able to face each new day again, no matter the burdens placed upon ourselves...I see that in you. You messed up, in so many ways, Celine—no matter your intentions, but Rumi still needs you—maybe I do too.”
Mira takes a sharp breath, failing to steady her pounding heartbeat, “Even after your warning all those years ago, I think I'm still similar to you…That burden of being alone, separated from family…you pulled me out of that mess, but still, that loss, it's suffocating. I know you feel that too, maybe it's why you're so distant, or why you're so hard on us sometimes.”
All the words she prepared to say were thrown out the window, everything she speaks, in its jumbled half-intelligible state, comes directly from her heart.
In no way did she want to admit that she and Celine were similar, didn't want to see herself in someone who hurt her best friend, but Celine reflects the hidden parts of her, in all her stubbornness, in all that solitude.
“Prove to us that you're stronger than before.” The throbbing of her heart slows its rapid pace, holding nothing back from her teacher. Celine needs to hear these words, another way the two are alike, both preferring to say what they mean rather than dancing around the topic.
She reaches her hand out towards the still kneeling woman, Mira can't stand the despair on her face. Even if she's still slightly irate at her, she doesn't think herself worthy to receive such a deep gesture of apology; in many ways, Celine is still her idol, the one who saved her from her family situation, a woman she still holds respect for.
Before she can stop herself, she pulls Celine into a hug. She can't forgive Celine, at least not yet, but she will give her mentor the time to earn it.
The valley separating the two no longer felt as wide, a river of newfound understanding bringing them together.
Strength, solitude, vulnerability—all of these shifting feelings were what Mira saw when she looked at Celine. Now though, she sees a new form of resilience, the tension of those muscles released, showing her resolve. Change will come, Mira believes that, even if nothing stays the same, but then again, the new honmoon is proof that change is needed. Perhaps there's also parts of Mira that still need to grow, to let all her jagged edges meet the light.
Mountains may stand tall, isolated by their valleys, but there are times that the clouds roll over, not oppressive with its rain, and the sun a friend to shine on its back. Celine doesn't need to be alone anymore, if she'd let her, Mira will be there waiting for her to find her way back home.