Mira’s Gok-Do sliced through the air with a metallic hiss, each swing sending a pink shimmer of disappearing demons scattering across the alleyway. She moved like a storm, precise and fluid, clearing the street with deadly efficiency. Her heart pounded, not just from the fight, but from the need to feel something beyond the relentless ache of missing you. Zoey was at home, safe and warm, leaving the pink-haired idol alone to wrestle with her thoughts. She had refused to go out with her, preferring to be alone. She knew it was unfair, that her friend was hurting too, but Mira couldn't get over her guilt. Three years. Three long, hollow years since she had last seen you. Since she had discovered you were part demon. Since she had raised her weapon at you.

Suddenly, the Hunter froze. The figure across the ruined street was unmistakable. The familiar long braid, the curves and posture she knew as well as her own, but the eyes, those blazing, molten-orange eyes, stopped her breath. Your body was no longer the one she remembered. Patterns of dark energy ran along your arms, neck, and face like living tattoos, claws extended, fangs glinting in the dim light. You had embraced the feral part of yourself, and Mira’s stomach twisted, part awe, part heartbreak. It was her fault. It was her who made you run away.

Rumi…?

Her voice trembled, hesitant. Before she could think, you lunged. The pink-haired woman didn’t move. She let herself fall beneath you, claws grazing her leather-clad arms, fangs snapping just next to her cheek. Pinned but unharmed, Mira looked up at you, unafraid.

Rumi, listen to me. I...I missed you. I should have never let it get this far, I'm so, so sorry. You’re still you, I know it. You’re not lost. Not really. It can be like before… you, me, Zoey. We can still be us.

Her hands moved carefully, brushing against your arms, seeking the girl she had always loved beneath the feral storm. Her guilt was swallowing her whole. She needed to make things right to bring you back from darkness to the light. To who you really are.

I’m not scared of you. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. You’re still good, Rumi. I know it.