Chapter Text
It was some time before it seemed Kyojuro would ever stop crying. Bound and helpless to the feeling of his blood boiling hot and lapping at the brim of overwhelm, toeing the line between turning to demonhood, or accepting death. He’d been upset for hours, though Akaza doted over him uselessly throughout it, the Slayer calming eventually only as his feeble strength burnt itself down to its wick.
The Upper Moon's patience did not waver, even though he cringed at the patheticness.
Akaza hesitated to check the Hashiras wound, wary to disturb this lull in Kyojuros misery and reignite those pitiful sounds but terribly curious towards the notion of progress. Navy digits plucked delicately at the haori still stubbornly in place atop Kyojuros torso, feeling the furrow in his own brow relax some at the sight of the raised pink scar embedded underneath crusted scabs.
The Kizuki resettled the cloth over Kyojuros wound, pausing briefly to lay his palm affectionately atop Kyojuros breastbone, basking in the glow of a kindling fighting spirit. It seemed the Slayers healing was beginning to accelerate gradually as demonic blood cells interacted and destroyed remaining human makeup. A battle doomed by Lord Muzans twisted contagion, superior life victorious in every battle. Akaza couldn’t wait for Kyojuro to wake up and experience it for himself. How glorious that would be.
The thought was nearly enough to make him giddy, smiling in misguided contentment as he settled back upon to the floor to meditate the time away, now that Kyojuro was silent; fists atop his knees and eyes closed, though his mind was restless with excitement.
Such excitement… it was draped transparent over Akaza's soul.
In the deep quiet, worry nagged at his heartstrings– if Akaza had any to begin with. He could still sense the distress and precariousness in Kyojuros spirit, balanced on the threshold of survival. Laid out upon the head of a pin. If death claimed Kyojuro now… it would be a loss that would sadden even a monster such as he.
He who yearned to return the choice of which he’d stolen. The current lack of consent between them had not been forgotten by Akaza. It festered in his chest. Made his fingers twitch within his fists.
And thus, he could not rest.
His mind surfaced to the sound of his own frustrations rumbling deeply under his ribs. The growl of a beast contained inside the image of a man, a warble of warning that mimicked the stress roiling at the edges of his aura. Akaza huffed the stale cave air as he willed his noises to stop, looking to Kyojuro still resting somewhat peacefully as pink fingernails scratched gouges into the fabric of his pants.
The stillness was growing itchy. He needed to move.
Akaza left the cave.
He’d decided– after a few short minutes of grumpy pacing– to poke around the surrounding tunnels, making sure to keep Kyojuros fighting spirit in his compass as he explored. His restlessness had been likely to stir Kyojuro into another pathetic fit, kicking up dust as he prowled back and forth in front of Kyojuros bed, aura absolutely reeking with pent up stressors. So he’d lifted the stone slab blocking the exit, and set about wandering, intending to return the very moment Kyojuro signalled.
The Kizuki was an exemplary navigator, but even without these skills, the beaten paths beneath the earth were incredibly easy to tread. Akaza was fairly certain he’d walked these trails before– though it had to have been some time since he’d last done so. After all this time he’d been to such a great many places now, it was hard to keep track of the exact footsteps he’d taken in the last decade alone. His master had made him into a seasoned traveller, as well as an enormous amount of other things.
Nevertheless, the stench of demon was all but inked into the stone here, dirt tattooed by their monstrous markings as if it were made of flesh instead of earth. Many of his kind had passed under these lands this way. He’d been one in one thousand.
They however, left their evidence in piles of bones and smears of blood on the walls where Akaza was always far neater in his feasting. Around him now were messy, chunky heaps of dried and rotted viscera, piles now unrecognizable as having once been human if it had not for the faint lingerance of their particular scent. It was within these globs of mutilated meat, that Akaza busied himself with pawing through, avoiding disrespecting any bodies and their remaining belongings that carried the echoing whiffs of womanhood.
He was not disturbed in the slightest with the task he’d now uptaken, hands dirtied by the stain and squelch of uprooting gorging maggots without a shudder or wince from the Upper Moon, thinking only idly of passing the time and possibly finding some useful trinket he could use to make Kyojuro a bit more comfortable. Shredded clothing and their pockets revealed naught but buttons and coins, but a few discarded travelling bags still contained some promising looking items. A comb, some soft and silken clothing that was remarkably clean and devoid of bloodstains, an ink brush and crumpled up parchment– likely not ideal for writing, but Kyojuro may still appreciate, regardless…
Akaza frowned, finding a bundle of short wooden sticks with their points encrusted in some odd smelling nubs. He wasn’t sure what they were at first, holding them up to his eyes as if he would be able to see them in a different light, scrunching his nose as his mind challenged for an answer against the blankness. This is a waste of time , Akaza thought towards his unmoving posture, attempting to urge himself onward, knowing there was no need for him to remember the names or uses of human artifacts. It would be stupid to spare it any thought. Asinine. But still… he just wanted to see if the knowledge was in there, somewhere.
He pulled out a stick from the bunch, holding it by the wood, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. Familiarity teased him from afar. Not knowing why, he set the round end against the edge of the rough stone at his side and swiped it downwards in a strict motion.
With a grating scrape and low hiss, bright gold suddenly sparked to life at his fingertips, a little flame emerging from the struck end to sit proudly at the tip of his purchase. Fire . Akaza gasped softly, entranced by its miniature flicker and heat, reminiscent of Kyojuros own delightful flames.
How spectacularly, it radiated. Illuminating the dark, dank atmosphere in wavering shadows and hues of brilliant orange. It would give light enough for a human to see the horrors of these surroundings.
A word nudged shyly at his brain.
“Matchsticks…” He whispered, smiling, enthralled as the little light burnt down into his fingers and put itself out against his unaffected skin, blackened stump of the stick now withering and smouldering in the flames' wake. His word for the objects felt right, and it pleased him. “Kyojuro should like this.” Akaza giggled, thinking of the man's likeness to flames in his appearance alone, and stashing the rest of the bundle with the other things he’d collected before rising to leave.
He continued forth on the same path, ignoring the churning of his waking hunger as he left the carcasses behind, a small leather bag now slung over his shoulder and filled with goodies to gift his patient. He wondered belatedly, what Kyojuro would say in reaction to the gesture– would he be happy? … Forgiving? Once he got past the mindlessness of new demonhood and could think for himself.
It was okay if he wasn’t, Akaza surmised. All the Kizuki really wanted was to fight and gather strength. He’d do it with or without company. Once the choice to demonic transformation was returned, he would have no need for Kyojuros forgiveness. His debts would be repaid.
Akaza felt the rise in the elevation as he walked, warmth budding beneath sweating rock walls as he climbed closer to the surface. He did not intend to go much further than this, merely following the salted moisture in the air and the gentle trickle of water that met his ears, sensing what may be a possible hot spring in the near vicinity.
He needed to force several large stones from the tunnel, but eventually, his path led true to what he’d deduced. Akaza had wandered into a shallow hotspring, partially secluded from the sky by the towering cliffsides and the expanse of the aged forest just past the clefts in stone.
Starlit beams touched the ashen, striped skin of the demon who stood solemnly under clear celestial skies, inklings of tranquility dancing above yellow eyes in bursts of voidless light he could never strive to touch. This place was unbothered by both humans and demons alike, much too deep in the woods and lodged between unstable, cragged rock to be easily accessible by most creatures who’d be so inclined to use it. Akaza himself, ordinarily would not have stopped to admire the gentle scene.
Looking out at it now… He felt this place could be described as pretty. Delicate like snowflakes on skin, or the crawling flame of a matchstick. But all too easy to destroy.
Akaza chewed his lip. Maybe Kyojuro would want to come here, one day…It could be nice.. to linger here in between bouts of their neverending battles. To watch the stars shift over time as they fought forever. Loneliness, abated.
How disappointing, for you to be distracted by ideas of leisure.
At once, shame curdled in his core, and Akazas expression hardened, fists tightening in the leather strap of his stolen bag. That thought had not been entirely his own, more akin to a yank on his proverbial chain that he made to heed to by sheer instinct alone.
He’d already lingered there long enough, staring stupidly at the sky and forgetting what really mattered. Who really mattered. Akaza kneeled, honing his art. Blue flowers in his compass, and.. and a sharp distress beginning to rear…
Kyojuro–
Akaza balked and bolted, body unfrozen in an instant and darting back through the tunnels the way he’d come from at a speed to rival the wind. His motions were absent to the mortal eye, spurred by swirling guilt and the starkness of Kyojuros pain in his supernatural vision– it had been simmering outside of his focus, stinking of torment as he’d distractedly looked on. His being was icy static through the earth as he ran, alarmed as he zeroed his senses on Kyojuros spirit and recognized the familiar tang of blood in the air.
He was not gentle as he returned to the perimeter of their temporary lodgings, forcing through the boulder he’d left to block the tunnel with a kick that split it in two, tossing his bag to the side immediately upon entry and seeking the one who had summoned him so urgently.
“Kyojuro–!” Akaza blurted, blinking in stunned confusion as he took in what his eyes interpreted.
The Flame Breather was on the floor beside the stone bed, eyes wrenched shut, curled on his side and trembling violently. Blood was slick on the Blondes fingers as he clawed feverishly at his own face, muffling his own cries into his hands that he’d stuffed into his mouth, shoulders shaking and spitting more and more red as clumsy digits ceaselessly scratched at his mouth.
Akaza was at Kyojuros side in an instant, catching the Slayers bicep in a careful grip. “What’s going on with you?” Akazas frown of concern cut deep into his brow as he leaned in, diverting his hands to tug at Kyojuros wrists instead, disturbed by the vigour of which Kyojuro worked to maim himself and trying to think fast to understand what exactly was happening. The problem seemed to be within Kyojuros mouth, fact made evident as he recoiled violently from Akazas attempts to pry his fingers away from the source of hurt, rolling to his back and choking wetly on his own blood, crying out loudly as his head struck the floor.
Akaza growled, disapproving. “You idiot, you’re making yourself worse. Let me see.” He reached for Kyojuros wrists again, prepared for the squirminess but surprised by the strength behind the retaliation. Kyojuro was more demon than man now, stubbornly thrashing against the assault he perceived with more energy than he should have had in his current physical state– if he was perceiving anything past his agony. His eyes remained clamped shut, body seemingly controlled purely by survival instincts, unaware of Akazas presence.
As valiant as the effort was, Kyojuros wild struggling was futile against the power of an Upper Rank, Flame Breather swiftly resorting to snarling and yelping like an animal as Akaza forcibly pried his fingers from his mouth, forbidding him from clawing at his face any further. Akaza wedged himself behind the Hashira, utilizing his legs as a vice to keep Kyojuros arms pinned to his side as he restrained his feral patient for examination.
“I said, let me see .” Akaza took Kyojuros forehead, and pulled it firmly backwards to hold immobile against his chest. The man still writhed despite his unforgiving containment within Akazas arms, crying out and gargling on blood as Akaza propped the both of them up against the side of the stone bed. He sighed in annoyance, unable to see the issue around Kyojuros erratic movements and resorting instead to feeling out the root of his physical pain.
Akaza shoved his remaining free hand into Kyojuros mouth without allowing himself a second thought behind the action, running inked fingertips across the Slayers lower set of teeth and tongue, chuckling lowly in amusement at Kyojuros immediate attempt to bite through the intruding digits. Ever the resilient one.
He stilled slightly as Akaza pressed his fingers into the ridges of his gums, muscles jerking occasionally and panting heavily through his tension. Still in pain but no longer being consumed by it. Akaza took notice of the reaction, pausing as he soon discovered a sizable gap between two teeth in Kyojuros upper jaw. “Your teeth…”
Kyojuros top canine tooth was gone, soft gummy flesh in its place and absolutely oozing blood. Akaza wormed his finger into the space with increasing pressure until he met the sudden prick of a new tooth deep within, its point sharpened and dense enough to puncture the end of Akazas finger, though not enough to draw blood. Not yet , anyway. Infantile fangs could not do much more than tickle a demon of his ranking, but the idea that they one day could tear the meat from his bones, sent shivers up his spine.
This was thrilling.
Encouraged by this development, Akaza slid his hand across Kyojuros top row of teeth in search of his canine tooth opposite to the missing one, finding the little bone loose but still intact, gouges in the gums where Kyojuro had been mindlessly trying to dig it out of his skull.
His aura burst in glee that he could not contain and he squeezed Kyojuro tighter for a moment, bouncing his legs and happily jostling the both of them. “Hah! Kyojuro, you’re teething !” Akaza exclaimed proudly before pinching the deteriorating human tooth and yanking, freeing it from Kyojuros jaw with a wet final snap. He lifted the bloodied tooth in the air as if to show it off, before casually flicking it to the other end of the cave. Disposed of, and unable to bother Kyojuro any longer. “I knew you were meant for this.”
Akaza eased his tight hold, looking down at the way Kyojuro had quieted exponentially, pleased by the way he was now falling lax against him as Akaza continuously caressed his inflamed jaw, body fully supported by the Kizuki. The relief of his new fangs being able to grow unhindered was clearly felt deeply, and Kyojuro relaxed back into his otherwise-unresponsive state. Rapid and laboured breaths, head tipped back against Akazas chest, exposing his neck in inadvertent submission.
Akaza released his grip of Kyojuros head, flipping his hand to press the back of his palm against the Hashiras cheek, a gesture that was now second-nature after two nights of playing nurse, although… it hadn’t seemed an awfully foreign thing to do in the first place. The Flame Breather was still terribly hot to the touch, but his temperature was not as outrageous as it had been when the process had first begun. This was very good.
The first of the physical transformations. It seemed clear now, Kyojuro would survive.
His hand became drawn to the top of Kyojuros head, petting back the vibrant red and gold strands of hair in a repetitive motion. Akaza could not bring himself to still his ministrations, simultaneously allowing Kyojuro to unconsciously suckle at the ends of his fingers, slowly coaxing the vacancies in Kyojuros elegant rows of teeth as if it soothed himself more than Kyojuro.
The smile he wore was impossible to beat back as the new development in Kyojuros progress sank past the stripes in his skin, mingling with hunger pains that were growing harder to ignore.
Food. There was none of it in the cave system. Nothing fresh and up to Akaza’s standards, though he was confident Kyojuro would be eager to devour anything that had once retained a heartbeat when he woke. And the Slayer would be mad with hunger, as savage and as feral as the freshly turned were. Kyojuro would need to consume a bit of flesh in order to think straight.
In order to say yes.
The demon breathed deeply, tipping back his head to stare blankly through the cave ceiling, sensing sunlight pressing into the dirt overhead. When night next fell, Akaza would have to depart the cave once again and venture out upon the world to claim himself a meal. He did not favour the idea when it meant leaving Kyojuro temporarily unguarded, but it had been several weeks since he had last consumed a human for its sustenance, and the intensity of his battle with the Flame Hashira had sapped much of his strength reserve. A weaker demon would have succumbed to insanity by now.
Akaza looked to the sleeping figure in his arms. Consuming human flesh for the first time would likely not be taken terribly well by the man, but after Kyojuro would regain clarity, Akaza felt he would understand. The Slayer would be far less inclined to see reason behind committing murder for his own benefit, Akaza surmised, thinking it best to catch and kill a second man while he was out and bring the body back for the newborn to enjoy when he woke. Spare Kyojuro the turmoil of killing someone whilst empty-headed. Wouldn't that be so nice of him? Not all demons were so thoughtful.
That settled it then. When the sun next set, Upper Moon Three would be hunting for two.