Chapter Text
Leading a cult of pitiful fools was hard work on its own. Day after day was wasted listening to their stupid complaints and pointless worries and even though Douma had grown up in it, it still gnawed at his nerves at times. His only escape were the demon-slaying missions entrusted to him as the ice pillar. But even those were growing boring as of late. He would spend days and nights traveling to a remote corner of his district only to find a demon below the level of even the lower moons. To say he was annoyed would be an understatement. Still, it was preferable to being bound to the temple all the time, not to mention the pleasant break in the routine.
So naturally, when he was just getting ready for his next mission, the last thing he would be in the mood for was yet another person in need of his attention. When the knock on his bedroom door came, he had to suppress a groan before inviting the servant in.
"Gracious Founder." Though the man bowed respectfully, it did little to ease Douma's annoyance. "There... a woman came in and she says she has to see you."
"A woman you say?" It wasn't like they were any less bothersome than men but something about them just made them easier to listen to. And Douma had long since abandoned trying to hide his favoritism. His mission wouldn't be burdened by waiting until he'd heard her out. "I'll see her right away. But after that, I'll have to depart for sure."
"Of course, Gracious Founder." The servant hurried away, leaving him to drape his cloak around his shoulders and fix the hat in place. It didn't take long to hear two sets of steps heading for his room. Already, an unsettling feeling washed over him, making him grip his fans a little tighter. Something was in the air.
"Here, our leader will see you now." Standing at the door was a figure clad from head to toe in multiple layers of torn, dirty rags that could hardly be called fabric anymore. She walked in when prompted, not a stumble in her step despite the drops of dried blood at the bottom of her robes. Had Douma not been so well trained in paying attention to every little thing, he most likely wouldn't be able to pick up on this particular detail. The eerie feeling only grew as the door fell shut and they found themselves all alone.
"So," he started with a friendly smile, "how may I help you?"
When she made a move to get closer, he raised a hand, effectively freezing her on the spot. Smoothly switching the motion to fanning himself, Douma gave a small chuckle. There was no need to start a fight inside the temple, especially with people still around.
"I..." She finally spoke up and though lovely, her voice was way smaller and quieter than he'd expected. "I've heard this place was safe for everyone to hide in..."
His eyebrows flew up in surprise but he quickly forced his regular, cheerful expression back on. She didn't need to know she was able to shock him that much. Every time he called it a safe place, he meant it in regards to humans of course. Not whatever half-baked demon this one was. She didn't seem wary of him even with the uniform and the sharp fans in his hands. Had he wanted to, he most likely could lop her head right off using only one hand.
Disregarding his earlier distant attitude, he beckoned for her to come closer. Not even that startled her in the slightest. Was she so sure of herself? Or maybe just too careless, stupid or trusting? Not that it mattered anyway. He even opened his arms for her like he would for any average troubled human. And just like one of those, she scrambled over, desperately in need of a warm touch. Or at least her bright emerald eyes seemed that way.
Only when she made it just a step away did she suddenly come to a halt. Something must had finally clicked in that pretty little head of hers and she shuffled back awkwardly. At last, she noticed his black uniform, panicked eyes flying up and down to take in everything they could. Visible confusion took over her expression when she didn't spot any sword at his waist.
"Oh, dear, whatever is the matter?" Douma chimed innocently, reveling in the way she shuddered at the sound of his voice. This time, it was he who made a step forward, taking advantage of her momentary unresponsiveness. She tried to back away but stood no chance against the pillar. Within fragments of a second, he took a firm hold of her clothes. Or at least what he assumed were clothes.
A shrill cry suddenly filled the room as he attempted to yank her back towards him, much to his surprise. He didn't miss the way the bundle of rugs tensed up either. What was this? Some strange blood art? One of her hands shot up and more on instinct than intentionally, he brought his fan down at it. A clean cut separated her arm at the wrist and her pale open palm hit the floor with a light thud. Her claws didn't come out and though she cried out in pain when his attack came, she didn't fight him.
Her blood soaked into the cloth as the open wound pressed against it. The pillar watched with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. The rugs came partially off, revealing an infant bawling their eyes out.
"Shh, it's alright Inosuke..." She cooed gently, the tone both familiar and strangely foreign to Douma. "We're safe here, it's alright... Nobody will hurt you here."
The baby ceased crying almost immediately as if just hearing her voice was putting them at ease. Even Douma had to admit the tone somewhat lowered his suspicion about the woman. Now if only she weren't still bleeding over his floor, he might have been calmer. As her glance finds his rainbow eyes again, there's something pleading seeping through. And then she opened up her arms a little, letting him catch a glance of the child.
They had some drool slipping down their bony chin and Douma only realized a second too late that at this age, babies should still be chubby and round, not at all this skinny. Surprisingly enough, he couldn't feel anything demonic from the infant in spite of his caretaker's condition.
"Please..." Her voice snapped him back into reality and away from the thoughts of just how thin were the chances of the child's survival. "Please, help my baby..."
Now that he thought about it, there was certainly something bothering him way more than some random child. It was broad daylight outside and the temple was surrounded by wisteria trees. And yet, this woman, this demon, had made it inside. Was she that determined to get her child some help? She didn't give up even after she realized who he was. And there was also the fact that she had not eaten her baby even if she had to be hungry at least right after her transformation. What an interesting woman.
With his smile returning, he reached out, watching as she closed her eyes and shrunk back, probably expecting to be hit. Instead, he let his hand wander under the makeshift hood and pushed it down, letting her beautiful black hair fall down her shoulders, revealing her face. A satisfied hum escaped him before clasping her slowly regenerating hand in his.
"You've come a long way to get here. I have to leave now but I won't be long. If you control yourself and don't eat anyone while I'm away, I will consider your request. So work hard for me, alright~?"
She looked up at him as if he was her guardian angel before tears filled her big honest eyes.
"I will!" She cried, pursing her lips so as not to make too much noise. "I will work the hardest I can!"
"Now now," Douma reached up to brush her tears away, noticing how she took in a ragged breath when their skin came in contact. "Don't cry now. It doesn't suit your pretty face."
"Gracious Founder-" She started but he was quick to cut her off with just a bright grin.
"Just Douma is fine!"