Chapter Text
Rumi learned to wake up in silence, as if even breathing could be a mistake. That is the result of being the daughter of one of Korea’s brightest idols and following in her footsteps from a very young age.
As long as she can remember, it has always been the same routine: straight back, a perfect voice, and rigorous training to become a hunter. Of course, her facade began to crumble when her girls came into her life. Training became more fun, and fights no longer hurt the way they used to.
until there were 4 weeks left until the debut
“All right, girls,” Celine interrupted, who had been watching them for an hour, pointing out every exercise. “Rest for fifteen minutes and then continue.”
“Yes, Celine” they answered in unison, exhausted, cheeks flushed, as each one grabbed their bottles and stretched their now jelly-like limbs.
“Dude, I’d melt right now!” the youngest exclaimed, resting her head on Mira's shoulder. The pink haired gave her a small smile.
“I don’t think that’s possible, but same” she joked, gently pinching the maknae’s freckled nose. She turned her attention back to the future leader—while wiping the sweat from her forehead, she noticed her cheeks flushed from exhaustion. That detail made Mira’s heart flutter. She began to drift into her little world when she felt a mischievous gaze at her side.
“What are you admiring so much?” Zoey teased, also looking at the girl as she prepared for the next training. Mira simply looked away, blushing, which she managed to hide with her hand. With her other hand she pushed the girl’s face away, and the girl answered with a laugh.
It is undeniable that the three share a deep affection. Despite having been warned, their bond only grew stronger; their hearts dance together with the honmoon.
The minutes passed like seconds, and soon Celine called them back. With an obvious groan, they returned to their spots.
This time, singing and choreography. The oldest watched closely as the trio danced, not missing a single mistake.
“Again!” she exclaimed firmly, noticing the lack of coordination. The girls went back to their respective spots for the third time. They would not finish until it was perfect; of that they had no doubt.
Everything was going well, until, while turning and moving, Rumi’s foot got tangled with Zoey’s and she fell on top of her. They could only laugh at their clumsiness, while Mira helped them up and brushed them off, but the laughter stopped when they felt the woman’s tense aura.
“Do you think this is a game? Are you three joking?” The adult, hands on her hips, stood firm, asserting her superiority over the three girl. The trio took their positions, each offering an apology, but those eyes were fixed only on the one with braided hair.
She took her chin and lifted her face. The girl looked at her in confusion, for she had never received such treatment from her tutor.
“If you let it happen again, not only will you fail, one of you will die because of you” she spat coldly, showing a harshness capable of enforcing any discipline.
Rumi stood stunned for a few seconds, processing the words. Her gaze faltered as she felt something sink into her chest. It was that anticipated guilt: if she failed, her girls could be in danger.
When they finally finished, the girls were completely worn out. At least they could relax and spend time together, like they did after every training session. A game, a movie, or even videos of turtles that the maknae loved.
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The maknae tried her hardest to make a shape with her body, lifting her arms and forming a circle. Her cheeks were puffed up from the effort, something that made the other two feel tender toward her.
“A ball” the future leader tried to guess.
“No, for the last time, I’m edible” the youngest exclaimed, exhausted from holding her arms up.
“A meatball?” the tall one continued, casually wrapping an arm around Rumi.
An alarm sounded, signaling that her time was up. Zoey exhaled loudly, letting her arms fall.
“It was a donut, duh!” she exclaimed, heading toward the couch where the others were. She flopped down with a huff next to Rumi, while Rumi brushed the younger girl’s bangs.
“You looked like everything except a donut, Zo,” the pink-haired girl joked, making the girls laugh.
“I did look like one!” Zoey protested, sitting up slightly and pointing at Mira in mock indignation. “You guys have no imagination, donuts are round.”
Mira rolled her eyes with a smile, ready to reply, when a firm voice cut through the air.
“Rumi.”
The name echoed in the room like a dry thunderclap. The three turned toward the entrance, where Celine stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but her presence enough to freeze the air.
“I need to talk to you. Now.”
It wasn’t a request.
Mira’s arm around Rumi tightened involuntarily. Rumi felt her stomach clench, that moment of peace evaporating as if it had never existed.
“Yes, Celine,” she replied automatically, her voice stripped of the warmth it had seconds before.
She stood up from the couch, feeling her girls’ eyes fixed on her back. She wanted to turn around, say something—anything—but her feet were already carrying her toward Celine. The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded final.
The silence left in the room was thick, uncomfortable. Zoey looked at Mira, her brows knit with worry.
“What do you think…?” she began to whisper.
Mira shook her head, not taking her eyes off the closed door.