Archive of Our Own

Up in the mountains filled with tall trees, near a tiny waterfall that flows into a stream that supplies many a creature, there’s a small house with a family. 

Kokushibou stalks it at night when the snow shines in the moonlight, wondering how he hadn’t noticed this building before throughout his many years. But upon further inspection, it was newly built. 

He can sense the people moving around in the house. Even though it’s too deep into the night for any regular human, these two parents feed their child. The baby was wailing ten minutes beforehand, which made Kokushibou investigate, which led to him discovering this house. 

And for a moment he thinks about eating the parents, but he goes against it. He may be unfeeling, but he still has his dignity. 

So he leaves the family alone, standing on a tree branch that was suggestively close to the house, listening to the mother singing to the baby. 

Kokushibou knows his time is almost up before the sun shows its hideous light, so he leaves with the sound of the baby laughing in pure joy. 

He comes back seven years later. He stands on the ledge of the waterfall, noisy as the splendid moonlight glistens in the water.

Kokushibou jumps down to the calmer part of the water, putting a pale hand into the water, the coolness making his skin rise. 

He hears light footsteps from the left of him, where the river continues into a forest that leads on and on in mystifying darkness. 

His fingers twitch and he wants to grab his sword, but a voice reaches his ears. 

“I hear the waterfall, Papa!” 

Kokushibou jumps up back onto the ledge, stepping back to make sure he went unnoticed. 

Peculiar pale hair the color of birch trees bounced as the young child ran to the bottom of the waterfall. There’s a bucket in tiny hands as the kid waits for their Papa to catch up. 

“Douma, please don’t run like that!” A man dressed in a dark jinbei yells, his eyes stern yet worried. 

“Sorry, Papa!” Douma laughs, leaning down and putting the wooden bucket into the water. 

Kokushibou notices the boy stumble as he stands back up with the filled bucket, and it only takes two steps before Douma falls down, the bucket spilling into the soil. 

The child’s eyes are closed to the sky, but quickly flutter open and Kokushibou focuses all six of his eyes to the boys. 

Red, blue, green, yellow, orange, purple- Kokushibou sees it all in this boy’s eyes. 

If Kokushibou believed in any God that wasn’t his own lord, he would believe that this boy was blessed by one. 

The boy gets up and grabs the bucket, a smile on his face even though his father badgers him with questions and concerns. 

Douma tries to pick up the filled bucket again, and succeeds, much to his father’s relief. 

They soon leave, and as the two walk back into the forest, following the stream, Douma looks behind him, up to the ledge. 

He doesn’t seem to notice Kokushibou, and turns back around and catches up with his father. 

Kokushibou comes back six years later, this time he’s on the roof of the house, listening in on the stern voices that are edging towards yelling. 

Apparently, Douma had gone down into the village at the foot of the mountain without his parents knowing. 

“Douma! You know what will happen if someone sees you in the village!” A woman hisses. “Those awful boys will hurt you again! And we don’t want that again, now do we?” 

“No, Mama,” The boy whispers, “It won’t happen again.” 

And it’s silent. The moment Kokushibou hears light snoring, he jumps off the roof to begin his food hunt. 

Kokushibou comes back the next night, first stopping at the waterfall. 

I’ve been slacking off, the demon thinks, staring into pale birch hair that shines in the moon’s radiance. Douma sits at the ledge, looking down at the forest. It’s rather late for him to be here. 

He thinks of leaving first, stepping away, and only leaving the dust behind, but the boy’s head turns and the eyes of the blessed boy. 

“A demon.” Douma gasps, his body freezing. “I- don’t kill me.” 

Kokushibou squints his two middle eyes, walking closer to the child until he’s a mere 2 feet away. 

Douma bows in fear, his forehead to the stone as he silently pleads for his life. 

“Keep your head up, boy.” Kokushibou commands and the boy looks back up, rainbow eyes wide. 

Kokushibou sits down next to him, giving them four feet of space. 

He can sense the freight in the boy’s blood but gives the brilliant moon his attention. 

“Were you the one who killed the four villagers yesterday?” Douma asks. The question was unexpected, but Kokushibou isn’t bothered by it. 

He nods ‘yes’ and Douma gulps. 

“You’re familiar.” The boy states, his voice slightly wavering. “I’ve seen you before, Demon-sama. When I was younger. Was that you?” 

Kokushibou nods again. 

“Oh,” Douma gasps once more. “You aren’t going to kill me?” 

The demon doesn’t say anything but he unsheathes his sword and Douma scoots away a few inches. 

Kokushibou glances over to Douma before placing his katana in front of him. The eyes on his blade staring up at the moon. 

It’s silent for the rest of the time the two stay at the waterfall. 

He notices Douma’s body slowly falling forward and Kokushibou effortlessly keeps him from hitting his head on the stone or falling into the harsh stream of water. 

He picks up his sword and then the boy, travels to the mountain house, and places Douma in front of the door. 

Kokushibou looks down at the sleeping figure once more and leaves. 

Two months later, he finds Douma at the waterfall again. 

The boy turns his head and smiles. 

“Hello, Demon-sama.” 

Kokushibou says nothing as he walks over to sit next to the human. He places his sword down in front of him. 

“Thank you for getting me home that night,” Douma says, looking up from the sword and at the moon. “My parents were only curious about me sleeping outside. I was able to lie easily,” he giggles. 

Kokushibou doesn’t say anything, but the boy doesn’t need any prompt to make him talk more. 

“I came here the day after to try and find you, but you weren’t there. So I tried the next day, and then the next, and, well…” He scratches his neck, “You don’t come here often, I guess.” 

“...I travel here more often than in any other place.” 

Startled by the demon finally talking, Douma only blinks until he quickly goes back to his joyous mood. 

“Oh? Is this your favorite area, Demon-sama?” 

“I have no favorite place.” 

“Of course! Of course.” 

Douma doesn’t say anything after that, and they sit in silence until Kokushibou can already see the sky getting warmer in color. 

He grabs his sword and prepares to jump into the dozens of trees. 

“Oh, you’re leaving,” Douma says with a yawn. “I didn’t realize I...I should’ve been asleep a long time ago,eheheh…I should head home too.” He looks down at the boy and his lazy smile. “Goodbye, Demon-sama. I hope to see you soon.” Douma stands up and bows. Kokushibou nods at him and leaves. 

He comes back after five years, standing on a tree branch as he watches the house. Kokushibou senses no life. 

Where has he gone? Kokushibou asks himself, running over to the waterfall. 

He doesn’t find the boy there. 

Kokushibou steps into the forest, scaring away the birds and rodents that lived there while he searched. 

He searches the entire mountain before he notices the dreaded sun and makes a hasty retreat. 

Seven months later, he finds himself sitting at the waterfall.. 

There’s a change in the air behind him, and he hears a hum. 

“Demon-sama,” a voice chides. Slightly deeper than the one he remembered, but it still held the slight bounce in tone. 

“Douma,” Kokushibou turns around and stills at what he sees. 

“Oh, you know my name!” Of course I do. 

Douma was taller, perhaps the same height as Kokushibou. His birch hair was longer, in a loose ponytail in the back that was barely noticeable. He wore a haori that was black at the shoulders but the color ended with uneven tear-like shapes, the rest of the garment being a dark red. Underneath the haori, however, was the uniform of the Demon Slayers. Douma didn’t wear the usual bands on his legs, letting the fabric be loose, but still showing the geta’s he wore on his feet. 

What took Kokushibou more by surprise was the mask that Douma wore. 

It was a fox mask, the eye slits that were surrounded by a light shade of red were made to look mischievous with the added smile to the white porcelain mask. 

“You’ve become a demon slayer.” 

Douma hums, sitting down next to Kokushibou. He grabs something hidden underneath his haori: two golden fans. 

They shine in the moonlight as Douma sets them down in front of him, as Kokushibou puts his blade down as well. 

“My parents died two years ago. Demons came into the house and killed them.” 

Kokushibou nods. “You wanted revenge.” 

“Kind of,” Douma shrugs. “I already planned on becoming a demon slayer.” 

“To become stronger?” 

“To be recognized.” 

Kokushibou looks over to Douma. “The mask.” 

The human chuckles. “I didn’t want to be made fun of for my looks. The hair is already peculiar, but mostly people are stunned by the eyes,” Douma puts a hand on the cheek of the mask. “Made it myself, you know. It took a long time.”

Douma still smiles, but it seems strained. 

The sun comes sooner than Kokushibou expected. He stands up, blade in hand. 

“Hey, Demon-sama,” Douma starts. “It’s stupid of me to think that after this we could continue being friends, huh?” 

Friends? Kokushibou says the word in his head.” We were never friends, only mildly familiar,” he remarks. “Now, we are enemies.” 

“Of course! Of course. Safe travels then, enemy .” Douma waves, looking away from Kokushibou. 

The demon leaves, wondering why he feels like something was wrong. 

He comes back four years later, standing on one of the tree branches near the house, focusing on the two in the wide space in front of the house. 

Douma, still wearing his mask, watches a teen boy from the shade of his house, as the boy holds a sword, slicing at the air, grunting and yelling. 

“Bring your left arm up slightly more, Sakonji!” 

Sakonji does exactly what Douma says and continues to strike nothing. The boys’ clothes are all wet, and he’s shivering slightly which makes Kokushibou wonder what happened. 

Kokushibou looks back to Douma and he sees the man turn his head toward the demon. 

“Sakonji, you can go inside now!” Douma claps his hands, his voice was cheerful. “I’ve already made food, so go eat that after you change your clothes!” 

Kokushibou hears the boy grumble: “I wouldn’t have to change if you didn’t make me stand in the waterfall…” but the boy quickly heads inside, handing Douma the nichirin blade that glistened. 

“Please come out now, Demon-sama!” Douma hums, stepping out of the shadows and underneath the moonlight. 

Kokushibou lands in front of the human, staring straight into where Douma’s eyes should be, remembering the eyes blessed by Gods. 

“Hello, enemy, here to kill me?” Douma steps closer, putting a hand on Kokushibou’s shoulder which makes the demon step back. “It’s risky for you to be here, my tsuguko can sniff out anything,” he giggles. “He’s like an animal, has the manners of one too.” 

Kokushibou looks back to the house. “...Tsuguko?”

“Ah, of course, I have to tell my enemy that I was promoted to a Hashira two years ago!” He can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve killed over a hundred demons! Isn’t that fun, Demon-sama? One of the former Hashira’s was killed by a Demon Moon, so I took their place.” 

“A moon is nearby?” 

“Oh, are you going to go find your little pal? Should’ve figured that out, heh,” Douma steps closer. “There’s been a few reports, but I haven’t seen anything. Maybe they’ve left...But let’s not talk about them, Demon-sama~” Douma tries to hug Kokushibou, but he dodges it, Douma pausing. He turns his body, his hand gripping the nichirin sword. “Say, enemy, ” Douma pauses. “We’ve never fought before! How can we be enemies if we’ve never even fought?” The demon stares at the porcelain mask. 

Kokushibou unsheathes his sword, and he can feel Douma’s excitement, can already imagine his widening stare.

The Hashira drops the nichirin blade on the ground, taking out the two golden fans, they unfold to show off the sharp glimmer. 

“Swords are icky,” Douma states. “My nichirin fans are way more fun than any blade.” 

Kokushibou attacks first and Douma is gone.

He’s fast, maybe faster than me. There’s a presence behind him and he quickly turns, blocking the kick aimed at him with the flat side of his blade and pushes Douma away, but he rises to the sky as if he could fly. 

“Ice Breathing, third form,” Kokushibou looks above to see Douma blocking the moon’s light. “Frozen Lotus.” Sharp and burningly cold lotuses spring out as Douma flicks his fans. Kokushibou barely misses all of them, the air becoming increasingly dry and cold. Douma falls back to the floor, landing on his geta’s. He puts his fans back into their hiding place, and he jumps over to Kokushibou.

“I’ve never seen someone as fast as me, Demon-sama! Oh, you’re so full of surprises,” Douma says, putting his hands on Kokushibou’s shoulders. His voice is full of excitement, but there’s a slur in his words, his chest heaving a bit too hard. “But I suggest you leave now, I can tell that my tsuguko is getting restless waiting inside.” 

Kokushibou puts back his blade, watching Douma back away and picking up the nichirin blade he left on the ground. 

“Goodbye, Demon-sama,” the Hashira bows, and he walks to the house door, sliding it open and entering the building. 

Kokushibou stays for a few more seconds, but as soon as he hears the voice of that Sakonji boy, he leaves. 

He comes back a week later, much to Douma’s surprise. 

Douma is alone in his house, something Kokushibou has never witnessed before. He has the common courtesy to knock, and when Douma opens the door, he’s greeted with a warm smile and-

Somehow his eyes are brighter than before. There’s a shade of pink that certainly wasn’t there all those years ago. 

“Demon-sama, you’re here! I wasn’t expecting you,” Douma moves aside, prompting Kokushibou to enter the house. 

The two sat at the wooden chabudai, Douma sipping a cup of tea. 

“Do demons drink tea? Can you drink tea?”

“There’s no reason to. It won’t give me power.” 

“Ah, of course, my bad.” Douma continues to drink his tea. 

Douma talks about his job. Talks about the other Hashira’s, the demons he’s killed, and he talks about all of it. He goes on tangents and forgets some parts of his stories, but there’s not a moment where he skips a beat. When he wants to talk, he’ll talk, and Kokushibou doesn’t need to input much to make Douma continue. 

“Sakonji is the first person I’ve ever trained. He came up to me and asked for me to teach him my breath technique and I didn’t want to say no to his face, have you seen his face? Even when he’s angry, he still looks adorable, I can’t take him seriously sometimes.”

“Has he learned your technique?” 

Douma waves a hand, settling his cup down. “Kinda, I guess. Somehow he’s learned the breath of water through my lessons, but there is overlap between the two so I can’t really say it’s a bad thing.” 

“Were you wishing to pass down your technique?” 

Douma glances up at Kokushibou, focusing on the demon's face.

“Not really,” the birched hair shakes with his head. “Sakonji is happy with water breathing anyways.” 

Douma rests his face in his palm, his posture awful as he looks at Kokushibou. 

“We have pledged our lives to two very different people, Demon-sama. But I’m…” Douma looks away for a moment, “-grateful that you risk yourself to talk to me. Especially since you’re so high up on the demon food-chain,” Douma giggles, tapping the skin underneath his right eye. “Uppermoon One, hm? How old are you?”

“Centuries and then some.” 

“I couldn’t imagine living that long. I bet it’s lonely.” 

Kokushibou sees Douma’s eyes droop ever so slightly as he stares to the empty space to the right of him. 

“...I suppose it is. Doesn’t matter to me anymore.” 

“Of course, you demons are better than us measly humans. Why worry about stupid things?”

Douma mutters the word stupid under his breath, closing his eyes as he smiles. “You know that some people think I’m a demon? I guess it’s the eyes and hair, but even though I’m a Hashira, they think I’m lying.” Douma touches the black and red haori he wore. “I’ve cleaned this thing so many times so that you can’t smell or see the blood on it. When they see blood on me, they think I’ve eaten someone,” he laughs. “I was surprised when Sakonji wanted me to teach him, but he said something about how I didn’t smell foul, so I guess it was a compliment.” 

“The humans should respect you,” Kokushibou purses his lips. “You are much higher up than the rest as a Hashira.” 

Douma nods, opening his eyes and whispers:

“I don’t know if that’s what I want.”

Kokushibou leaves the house an hour later. 

He comes back a month after. It’s snowing, the cold reminding Kokushibou of Douma’s breath technique. He can already sense Sakonji at Douma’s house. From the trees, Kokushibou can hear the boy’s voice through the walls that muffle him. 

“I don’t know if I can take your place, Douma-sensei.”

There’s soft laughter from Douma. “Don’t cry, Sakonji, you will kill me with your cuteness if you start to cry.” A few sniffles follow those words. “I’ll see you at your welcoming ceremony, okay? Now go prepare, sleep well. Don’t waste your time! The other Hashira won’t like that.” 

A few minutes of silence pass before he watches Sakonji slide open the door. He scrunches up his nose. 

“There’s an awful smell out here.” He yells into the house. “I can search if you’d like-”

“No no, just go! You have a big day ahead of you!” Douma yells back and that makes Sakonji finally leave, disappearing into the leaves. 

Kokushibou jumps down and walks to the door, announcing his presence. 

Douma lets him in, three cups of tea on his chabudai, two empty, and the one that was filled was on Kokushibou’s side. 

“I will be gone for a little while. I’m going to be travelling for a year or two.”

Kokushibou nods, and Douma smiles. 

“I’ve always loved the moon.” He says, but then starts to ramble about nothing. Kokushibou would be lying if he didn’t find it amusing. 

Kokushibou comes back two months later, and as expected, Douma is nowhere on the mountain. He spends his night at the waterfall, watching the splendid moon stare back at him. There’s a layer of snow on everything, and it shines so bright in the pale moonlight. 

Three years later, Kokushibou comes back to feel three people in Douma’s house. 

He watches the house, and sees the door open, Douma stepping out in a black kimono with his haori, porcelain mask covering his face. His hair was longer, almost as long as Kokushibou’s now. 

Douma looks directly into Kokushibou’s direction, and smiles, ushering the demon to come out. 

The smile grows once Kokushibou is in front of Douma. Blessed eyes twinkling, and he steps closer to Kokushibou, the snow beneath them crunching with each step. 

And he wraps his arms around Kokushibou’s shoulders. 

“Gahh, I should’ve expected you demons wouldn’t be warm!” Douma sighs, Kokushibou acutely aware of the breath that touches his bare neck. He feels the long fingers clutching onto his own clothes, 

“All that travelling was so difficult. My legs feel weak!” 

Douma releases Kokushibou, and the demon has never realized how cold he truly is. 

“Who are the people inside?” 

The human blinks, looking into Kokushibou’s middle eyes. 

“Oh! Why don’t you meet them, hm?” 

Kokushibou furrows his face, not daring to move away from his spot. “Come on, Demon-sama! It’ll be fun!” He brings out his hand, a warm smile on his face.

Kokushibou hesitantly holds up his hand, his skin so very dull compared to Douma’s, and their fingers intertwine. 

Douma opens the door, revealing two people sitting at the chabudai. 

Frozen, freightened, and glaring at the two standing at the door, the two children look to Douma for answers. 

“Ume, Gyuutaro, this is…” Douma glances over to the demon. 

“My name is Kokushibou.”

The girl frowns, her eyes still in a sharp glare. 

“Kokushibou is a demon,” Douma adds, and he watches the girl’s whole body twitch. 

“I thought you were a demon slayer?” The girl, who he assumes is Ume, hisses. The white hair of hers moving with every exaggerated motion she made. She had bright green eyes, sharp yet elegant. Kokushibou had the urge to look into Douma’s eyes and see whether or not that green was the same as the green in Douma’s. 

The boy was the opposite of his sister. His face awkward and eyes droopy, not to mention the dark markings on his pale face. His hair was stark black, only separating him more from his sister. 

“No,” Douma chimes, “I’m an ex -demon slayer. There’s a difference, Ume-chan-”

“You’re insufferable sometimes!” The girl groans, threading her tiny hands into her hair, Gyuutaro putting a reassuring hand on Ume’s back. 

“Why are you hanging with a demon, Douma?” The boy raises a thin eyebrow, his voice was quite raspy for someone that didn’t look that old. 

“I’ve known him for a long time! Don’t worry, he won’t kill you two!” Douma mutters a light I hope underneath his breath but the two children didn’t seem to notice. 

Ume’s eyes soften, but still weary. “Can you at least close the door then?” 

Douma turns around and shuts the door, the cold air no longer blowing on his back. 

The homeowner smiles, pushing Kokushibou to sit down on the opposite side of the siblings. 

“I’ll make tea.” 

During the devastatingly long time Douma makes tea, Kokushibou pretends not to notice the stares the siblings aim at him. He doesn’t care anyways, as he watches Douma prepare four cups of tea. 

Once the four cups are placed in front of them all, Gyuutaro and Ume glance up to Douma, as if they were waiting for him to approve. But once he took a sip of his, hissing about how it’s too hot, the two siblings back away from the tea. 

“I know that this is an awkward situation for you two,” Douma starts, the happy tune of his voice slowly dulling. “But I need you two to never speak of Kokushibou-sama ever being here.” 

Ume glances over to the demon, untrusting. 

“We’ve seen you kill demons, isn’t that a betrayal to his kind?” Ume frowns, “I don’t trust this, Douma.” 

“Of course, of course, I know. But, please. This is the only favor I’ll ever ask of you two. You can always refuse, and I cannot blame you, but it will make my life,” Douma chuckles, “a lot harder than it is right now.” 

Gyuutaro makes a sound, putting long fingers in wavy, black hair. “Maa, why him? What makes him so special?” 

Douma looks over to Kokushibou. “Well, he was my first friend and my first enemy,” the man hums, “I also think the six eyes are pretty! Which ones should I look at? So many choices…”

Gyuutaro snorts, finally picking up his tea cup and drinking it, Ume following his actions. 

“Only you would be weird enough to befriend a demon, Douma.” The boy says, coughing into the sleeve of his kimono.

 “We don’t have anything with the demon corps,” Ume states, her tone trying to stay unwavering. “We don’t owe them anything, but we do owe you. ” She looks back to Kokushibou, the two locking eyes before she looks back to Douma. 

“Thank you, Ume, Gyuutaro,” Douma claps his hands. “Now, you two can heat up in the baths outside, and I’ll make dinner and get your room ready!” The two siblings nod, walking outside, lingering at the door before eventually leaving. “They’re both sweet children once they like you,” he hums. “I met them in the Red Light District-don’t look at me like that, Kokushibou-sama! You think such awful things.” Douma playfully huffs, leaning closer to the demon. “They killed a man who was trying to do a lot more than what he paid for. I only gave them a place to stay.” 

Kokushibou nods, feeling the warmth that radiated off the human. “What of the man?” 

“I left the body in the forest, must’ve fed the animals or a demon, so at least he was useful even after death.” 

“Will you teach them your ways?”

Douma shrugs. “If they want to, I will. For now, I will buy them a gift! I think that sounds like a good idea.”

Kokushibou feels the need to scrunch up his face, but he soothes out the feeling before he could express it. 

The former Hashira does eventually start dinner, and Kokushibou leaves before the children come back inside. 

He meets Douma at the waterfall three days later, golden fans stained in red, reflecting the moonlight. 

Douma turns to see Kokushibou, and smiles, dusting off his loose yukata. 

“It’s the cold season,” The demon points to the pale chest that was mildly exposed. “You should cover up more.” 

Those blessed eyes light up as Douma chuckles, throwing his head back slightly as he puts one of the golden fans to his chest. 

“Don’t worry about me, Kokushibou-sama, I can withstand the cold better than most.” Douma leans down, putting a hand in running water. “And I was only out for ten minutes, making sure the area was safe.” Douma cleans off the blood from the golden fans. “When I was travelling, I made the stupid decision to not wear my mask out in town,” Kokushibou steps closer to Douma, his shadow looming over the human. “There were people who were afraid of me, but there were also people who believed me to be a sign of the gods,” he laughs. “I never heard anything so bizarre before.” 

“You have eyes that show the color of the skies and hair like the birch on the trees,” Kokushibou watches Douma pause his menstrations. “It’s not bizarre to think that you are someone who is blessed.” 

“It is bizarre,” Douma tuts, turning his head to look up to the demon. “Do you think I’m blessed, hm?”

The two look at each other. 

“Yes.” 

Douma blinks, and Kokushibou didn’t know that a single blink could be so pretty. 

“I don’t want to be remembered as someone blessed by the gods when I’ve never heard or felt them in my life.” The former Hashira says, looking away and back to the moon. “I was a burden on my parents, not a blessing. I didn’t even have friends,” there’s a hum following those words. Kokushibou senses the tenseness in Douma’s body even if it’s barely present. “But I do thank you for talking to me and not eating me,” he chuckles. “The nicest thing anyone besides my parents has done for me.” Douma stands up, patting Kokushibou on the shoulder, leaning in and kissing the demon underneath his right lower eye. 

He watches Douma leave in a blur, letting Kokushibou look up to the moon. 

Kokushibou visits every other day. Ume and Gyuutaro very slowly allowed his presence near them. 

Ume refuses to look the demon in any of his eyes, only talking to him when Douma is nearby. She constantly shows off the crescent moon earrings that Douma had bought her. 

Gyuutaro talks to himself whenever the two are alone. Of course Gyuutaro talks as if there’s someone with him, but he mumbles his lax words, quiet and harsh. He is very quiet about his gift from Douma, but the necklace with the crescent moon on it is easy to see. 

The two siblings try to help Douma in any way. They’ve started to cook the food, do the laundry, and even go into town to buy things they need. 

“They aren’t cut out to be trained,” Douma said once the two fell asleep after they had dinner. Kokushibou and Douma sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the moon. “Gyuutaro is an incredibly strong boy, like he was born with power, but he’s too thin and the two are joint together. If he were to ever become a slayer, she would have to, and they have already been through enough. I only wish for the two to rest. They’re quite young.” 

Kokushibou looks down at the hand on top of his. Cold skin against warm. Douma seems unphased, still looking up to the sky. Kokushibou relishes in the slight warmth. 

“They only want to be useful.” 

“Of course, of course. I understand the feeling, but to go to demon slaying...I’ll go into town and see if I can find them a job. They might like work, it’ll give them their own spending money…” Douma trails off, the smile that was always on his face falling, and Kokushibou decides to interlock their hands.

“You’re warm.”

Douma looks to the demon, eyes wide. He looks down to the hands, letting the image soak into his head. 

And then, a small smile on his face, bright and almost humbling. Rainbow eyes gleaming. He scoots closer to Kokushibou, grabbing onto his black and purple kimono and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re warm too! Do you not feel it?” Kokushibou shakes his head and Douma holds him tighter. 

Kokushibou puts his arm around the human, letting birch hair rest on his chest. 

They stay like this until the moon starts to fall and the sky starts to turn orange. 

Kokushibou effortlessly picks a sleeping Douma up and carries him inside. Ume, who usually wakes up first to start cooking the first meal, watches in astonishment. Once he settles the man in his room, Kokushibou bows to Ume who still stood in her weariness and surprise. 

He leaves the house, closing the door and going back into the forest. 

It’s been two weeks since the two hugged on the rooftop. Kokushibou thinks that hugging shouldn’t let Douma act this touchy, but Kokushibou likes the touchiness. 

“Gyuutaro delivers packages to everyone in town,” Douma smiles. “He didn’t want to do it, saying that his face would scare people off, but after I talked to everyone in town he felt better.” He giggles.

“Ume?” 

“She’s working at the store that Gyuutaro works for! They wanted to work together, and luckily the store already needed two people. But they come home late, and there’s been some pesky demons roaming around the mountain and even killing their friends won’t make them leave. Do you moons always have to flaunt your rank? I know I used to do it, but for some of these moons who are easily replaceable...it’s embarrassing.”

Kokushibou frowns. “There are moons here?”

“Yup, they come and go. I’ve only killed two so far, but they’re everywhere. One of the ones I haven’t foughten, I’ve seen. He had pink hair and was greatly exposed! So bold…”

Kokushibou furrows his face.

“Did he have blue markings on his body?”

“I think? I’m not that good of a detective…”

Akaza.

His frown deepens, and he gently pushes Douma away, standing up.

“Are you going to meet your pal?” The human smiles. “Can I go-“

“No.” Kokushibou bites out. “I will deal with it.”

“Hey hey! I know I’m not as strong as you but if you are under the oath of your demon lord,” Douma starts, standing up and dusting off his pale hakama, reaching into his black and red kimono to take out golden fans. “It’s even more dangerous for you to try and make one of your own not eat a human like me! Stay here, make sure the kids are safe. If some demons come by, say you’re going to eat them!”

He puts a hand on the demons shoulder, eyes smiling at him. 

“I can easily run away too if the demon is too strong, I’ll be fine, Kou-kun!” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright,” Douma giggles. “I’ll be back, pinky promise on it, yeah?” he takes the hand of Kokushibou’s shoulder and brings up his pinky. 

It takes the demon a minute to complete the pinky promise, but when he does, Douma leaves in a blur.

Four hours later, the moon starts to lower, Douma returns, walking into the normal entrance of the former hashira’s land.

Blood in his birch hair, scratches and bruises on his pale skin. He jumps, limps as he walks and he looks up to see Kokushibou. 

His eyes stained red, and he fell into Kokushibou’s arms. 

“H-he was the one to leave, so I won th-that,” Douma chuckles, putting a kiss to the demon's neck. “You uppermoons sure are tough.” 

He doesn’t dare look at Douma's eyes, not allowing the pit in his stomach to grow by looking at the tainted rainbow. 

“Treat your wounds.”

“Of course, don’t worry about it. Just-“ he sits down on the rooftop, pulling Kokushibou down with him. “-let me relax, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Kokushibou spends his time sitting down at Douma’s side, Watching the man doze off. 

The sky turns orange and Kokushibou picks Douma up with ease, not surprising the human. 

“I’ll see you later, hm?” Douma smiles, his split lip trickling with blood. 

“Treat your wounds first.”

“Alright, I will.” 

Kokushibou jumps off the roof, Douma making a little sound when they reach the ground. He opens the door and walks to the end of the hall where the humans room was. 

There was a window but it was boarded up. Underneath it was a unlit candle, with matches near it. 

Kokushibou lays Douma down on the tatami mat, putting the thin blanket that seemed to be tossed to the side on top of the man. 

“Hey, Kokushibou?” The demon looks at Douma with all six eyes. “Could you stay here? There’s no sunlight coming into my room, you’ll be fine, I think...” Douma waves a weak hand, motioning for the other to come closer.

“I’m just going to sit here while you recover?” 

“You could sleep with me! You demons sleep, right?” 

“As a pastime.” 

“Then come!” Douma pats the tatami mat. “Sleep with me, it’ll be nice.” He looks up at the demon with hopeful eyes. 

He should say no. 

But Douma looks at him with eyes so beautiful. 

Kokushibou wakes up with warm arms around his waist. Douma’s face nuzzles into Kokushibou’s collar. They’re both underneath the thin blanket, and Kokushibou slowly pulls Douma closer to make sure the human gets ample warmth, even if Kokushibou isn’t as warm as the other. 

He closes his eyes, dozing off once more. 

Nightfall comes, and Kokushibou leaves a still sleeping Douma. 

He wonders if Ume or Gyuutaro saw the two of them sleeping. If so, he’s relieved the two didn’t disrupt Douma’s sleep. 

But as he walks through the forest, he spots what he’s looking for. 

“Akaza.” 

He glares over at the pink hair and almost grey skin. The Uppermoon two had a frown on his face, eyebrows scrunched. 

“That human you spent all day with is quite strong. Got his fan into my neck.” 

“He’s faster than you, not a surprise.” 

“Faster than a demon? Don’t make me laugh.” 

“You should have seen it yourself. He was able to counter my attacks. He got his fan into your neck.”

Akaza huffs, his fist clenched. 

“I’m going to kill him, and then I’ll aim for you.”

“If you can,” Kokushibou retorts. “I won’t stop you. I will always accept a match to determine our rankings.” 

Akaza doesn’t say anything, only stares in anger. 

“Do you care for the human?” 

Kokushibou frowns.  “He’s a human.” 

“Would our lord like you spending time with a slayer, huh? How would you explain that to him?” 

“He’s only a slayer, and he’s retired. A mere hashira that can be easily defeated. Do not think our Lord would be offended or threatened by some human.” 

Akaza looks up at Kokushibou, his mouth in a sneer. 

“I’ll fucking kill you.” 

“Request the match next time. I expect that to be the next time we meet,” Kokushibou flatly says, and the younger demon deepens his glare, disappearing in a blur. 

Kokishibou returns to the house, Gyuutaro sitting at the chabudai,  steaming tea cup in his hand.

The mark on the boy's face was outlandish and ugly, and did not complement him in the slightest.

“Did you always have that on your face?” Kokushibou answers, walking to the chabudai and sitting down, resting his sword down at his side. 

“Yeah,” The teen sighs, blowing on his tea. “Heh, ma always said it was ugly ‘would never make you money in this district’ ” he mocks, making his voice higher and adding a slight nasally sound. “As if she made money even without this fucking thing on her face. Ume got all of ma’s beauty, not me,” he sips the tea. “She also has tea making skills, this tastes awful,” Gyuutaro coughs into his Yukata.

“Douma is injured. I will be staying in his room with him to make sure he heals properly.”

There’s a snicker, and Kokushibou frowns. 

“Staying in his room, huh? That it?” 

Kokushibou scoffed, making Gyuutaro laugh. 

“Hey hey, don’t blame me, Douma says you two are together, I don’t judge.” 

“He said that?”

“Won’t shut up about it. Swoons and sighs about ya all the time, real annoying too.”

Kokushibou feels his mouth twitch, head light. 

Gyuutaro sighs, putting the tea down on the wooden chabudai. “Douma has done a lot for me and Ume. Practically saved us from that hell hole of a district- and we owe him a lot…And if he’s hurt…”

Kokushibou nods. “I understand.” 

The boy presses his thin lips together, closing his eyes and nodding. “Good.” 

Gyuutarou passes his tea to Kokushibou. “Imma go back to bed, please don’t be loud, walls are thin. You probably knew that unless you demons can’t feel the cold.” 

He watches the teen walk back,  as Kokushibou tries to feel the coldness in the house.

But he feels the warm tea on the chabudai, and drinks it all.

He returns to Douma’s room, the man still asleep. Kokushibou lays down next to him, letting his arms wrap around the warm body as he drifts off as well.

Douma eventually heals properly, no longer needing to be at bed rest. The night Kokushibou plans to leave, to eat, he sees Ume outside, her bare feet in the snow. 

“Thank you.” She says, looking down to the snow as her body shivers. 

“...Go back inside, you’ll get sick.” 

“I’m not stupid!” She yells, but Kokushibou is quick to leave before he can hear anymore. 

And he visits every night. Sits by as they eat dinner, talk about their day. He holds Douma’s hand during dinner, when they sit outside on the rooftop, or when they’re more intimate at night; he still holds Douma’s hand. Pale with a certain roughness that shows the scars of battle. 

It’s comforting in a way that Kokushibou had never realized. It wasn’t until he found himself in front of his lord. The modern black and white suit being a stark contrast from the traditional house that the two were in. 

He feels two humans sleeping in the room above them, but he dare not mention that. 

Muzan is at a desk, reading a book that he closes with a soft thump.

“You haven’t been eating,” Muzan frowns. “This Douma you think of must be quite the human then if you are not trying to retain your power.” 

“I apologize, Muzan-sama. I will do better.” Kokushibou says, his hands on his knees as he bows.

His lord hums in acceptance. “To be in love with a hashira like this. I expected better from you, Kokushibou. Are you turning on me?” 

“No, Muzan-sama. I swear my loyalty to you. You may kill me if I ever give you anything below my utmost obedience.” 

“As if I need permission to kill you,” Muzan glares, and Kokushibou dares not to look up. “Would you kill Douma if I asked?” 

Kokushibou wants to clench his mouth, but he remains cool. “Yes, I would.” 

“Look at me.” 

He looks up to scathing red eyes that were filled with power that he could barely touch. 

“Humans, pathetic as they are, will die.” 

Kokushibou nods, and Muzan opens his book. “You are dismissed.” 

And he leaves the house, hearing the soft footsteps from upstairs before he steps outside.

He goes back to Douma, holding him close to his chest as the two lay down. The warmth from the human enveloping the demon. 

“Become a demon,” he whispers, and Douma chuckles softly, shaking his head ‘no’ as he dozes off. 

Kokushibou holds onto him tighter. 

Years are passing a lot faster than he remembers. Winter comes and goes with its graceful snow, the moon flickers on and off; it’s all moving a lot faster. 

He doesn’t realize how fast time moves until ten years later. 

The two are laying down in Douma’s room, when Kokushibou sees something shining in Douma’s hair. 

And while Douma’s hair is already pale and silver-like, but, these hairs that hide in with the rest are different. 

Signs of age.

Kokushibou feels his chest tighten, and kisses Douma’s neck. Drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat.

“Become a demon.” 

Douma raises an eyebrow, the two sitting at the opposite sides of the chabudai that has scratches and peeling wood. 

“No. But that was funny, Koku!” 

Kokushibou frowns as Douma blows at the hot tea in his hands. There was one for the demon, but he hasn’t touched it yet. 

Those eyes look up at Kokushibou, a light smile on his face. 

“If I become a demon...Everything I’ve ever done that’s remotely good would just…” Douma makes a ‘poof’ sound, followed by a little hand motion. “There’s no reason to become a demon, for me at least.” 

“You can live forever-“

“I don’t want that.”

“You’re an idiot if you’re throwing away your chance at living for centuries, Endless power that a mere human could never imagine will be yours.”

“I don’t want power- I’m fine with my mortality.” Douma murmurs, sipping his tea. “That’s what you want, not me.”

“What I want, is you to stay alive,” Kokushibou bites out. “I don’t want to see your power be wasted like this. your eyes-“

“Are a curse to me, Kokushibou,” He Hums, chuckling.. “Your arguments haven’t been that convincing.”

Kokushibou reaches out for Douma’s hand, and Douma gives it to him. 

“I love you.” 

Douma looks up, blinking, eyes turning glossy as tears drip down his face. He still smiles.

He wipes his face with his haori’s sleeve. 

“If you love me, please understand my decision.” 

Kokushibou retracts his hand, looking down at the tea he hasn’t touched. 

And maybe it was a bit childish of him, but he didn’t care. He throws the cup of tea behind Douma, watching it crash into the wall and shattering. 

He leaves and Douma doesn’t bother to watch.

Kokushibou wanders, as he used to 35 years ago.

He eats double, trying to make up for the amount he's lost, and he does something that only his lord tends to do; he transforms.

He makes it so that he only has his middle eyes, and he wanders in the villages and towns at night. 

He stumbles upon countless demons who all know who he is, who run away from his power. 

13 years later, he finds himself back at the waterfall, and to his surprise, the tsuguko is there. 

“Sakonji.” 

The man snaps his head to look behind him. He wears a red tengu mask, the cloud jinbei he wore drenched. 

“ You,” he gasps, grabbing for the sword at his hip. “You were the demon I smelt all those years ago.” 

“I was.” 

“Douma-San had protected you . Are you here to gloat at me?” Sankoji spat out. 

Kokushibou shakes his head. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here because this is my land now.” Sakonji stands up, sniffling. 

Kokushibou takes out his sword, watching Sakonji prepare to step, but he places the living sword down on the stone but the Hashira doesn’t falter.

“Has Douma left?” 

Sakonji’s mask only states directly at Kokushibou. 

“You don’t know?” he whispers. 

“His body is buried near his house.” 

Kokushibou stops. His heart beating, letting his blood flow into his head that hurts. 

“How?”

Sankoji grips on his sword once more. 

“He had brought himself in yesterday,  and confessed to having kept a demon in his house. Protecting it. He wished for seppuku, and I was the Kaishakunin.” 

Kokushibou wishes to grab his sword, but he refrains himself. “You were cleaning off your sword.”

“I was.” 

“Where are those kids- Gyuutaro and Ume?”

“They left a few years ago, but came back so we could bury him- don’t go after them, please. Let them mourn.” 

Kokushibou nods, grabs his sword and leaves Sankoji. 

He hears a sob but doesn’t linger on it too much.

When he enters the house, it’s quiet. The candles that were around the house all out, the windows all uncovered. 

Douma’s mask was on the chabudai, and he wanted to destroy it.

But he doesn’t, instead, he sits down at the chabudai, and rests his head on the blistering wood.

The house is silent.

He doesn’t return to the mountain. Not wanting to disturb Sakonji and the children that he now teaches. 

And he continues to travel.

“You’ve been eating a lot more,” Muzan tells Kokushibou one night, the two looking like normal humans as they walk through a town. Muzan disguised as a woman this time.

“I’m trying to make up for the past years.”

“Your human’s dead.”

Kokushibou looks down. “Yes.” 

His lord stops walking so he does too. 

“Tell me about him.” 

And he does.

“He loved the moon.”

Lights are fading. He watches his body deteriorate. 

His own descendant and co has defeated him, and he watches them cry over their dead.

There’s a certain peace to knowing he’s going to die. He feels calm. Not like the relaxed feeling he gets after a good meal, but a sense of understanding. 

He wonders if Douma felt this way before his head was cut off. 

Almost half a millennia of life, and he finally wonders: 

Have I taken the wrong path?

He closes his eyes, quick to allow himself to leave once and for all.

————————————- Koji is cold. He wears his school’s winter uniform, but had forgotten his coat at home. All he has is the flimsy scarf that he’s had since he was a child. 

His family is waiting for him to finish his walk and return home.. He always walks at night, when the moonlight hits the snow perfectly. His eyes taking in the beautiful snow that covers everything, no matter how cold it makes him feel. His glasses fog up every now and then, but he still soaks in the beauty of winter. 

But in his pathway was a person, in Koji’s school’s uniform, no jacket, on their hands and knees searching for something in the snow.

The person looks up, and Koji’s body stops.

The hair of the stranger was already peculiar, its pale color almost the same tone as the snow, but their eyes.

The strangers' eyes were beautiful.

“Oh! Uh, Hello.” The stranger blinks, a polite smile. “Can you help me find something? If you have the time, I understand if you have homework or something.” 

Koji shakes his head. “What did you lose?” 

“An earring,” the stranger stands up, walking up to Koji and pushes back some strands of silver hair to a dangly crescent moon earring. “It looks Just like this One.” 

Koji nods, noticing that this stranger was close to his own height. 

The two start looking, digging around the snow to find it. 

“The school allows you to wear earrings? Especially being a guy and all…” Koji mentions, and the stranger laughs. 

“I already get yelled at for my hair, but the earrings are easy to hide. And, I might be a boy but I look good in earrings,” the stranger smiles and Koji looks away, his face flushing.  “I’ve never seen you before, what year are you in?” 

“2nd year.” 

“Oh, me too,” the stranger hums. “Big school, I guess.” Koji nods and watches the stranger shiver, and he looks to the short sleeve button up that the other wore. 

“Do you want my jacket?” 

“No no, I don’t need it. I always forget my coat, it’s fine.”

The longer they look the more Koji believes he has frostbite.  

He brings his hand down to the floor once more and-

“Ow!” Koji hisses, looking to his hand and seeing a slice on his finger. He looks back down to the floor and sees shiny metal. He picks it up and sees the clear crystal that was cut like a crescent. “I found your earring.”

The stranger rushes over to him, and Koji hands him the earring. 

“Oh, thank you- are you okay?” The stranger points down at the bleeding finger.

“It’s just a cut, I’m fine.” He sucks on the wound, and a moment later the blood stops. 

“I’m glad we met,” The strange sighs, smiling. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost this!”

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s a family heirloom, I think. It goes with this-“ He takes out a chain from underneath his shirt, showing a larger crystal crescent. “-necklace!” 

“They’re really nice on you,” Koji says and the other laughs, giving him an embarrassed ‘thank you.’ 

“I’m Sasaki Koji.”

“Tanaka Yuuta,” the stranger smiles, his rainbow eyes glowing, face a pretty pink. “Why are you out so late?” Koji shrugs, and the two begin to walk.

“It’s calming. I always come here at night. You?” 

“I just moved here two weeks ago,” Yuuta waves a hand. “I’m wandering around to remember places. But I also love looking at the moon.” 

“Yeah,” Koji nods. “ It’s nice.” 

And the two look up at the full moon that watches over them. Allowing the teens to bask in the radiant glow. 

The snow shines in the moonlight, and Koji looks back into those rainbow eyes and feels a tug in his chest, as if he’s trying to remember something from long ago. 

But he pushes that feeling away, letting himself wade in the beauty of the snow and moonlight. In the beauty of-

“Douma.” 

Yuuta smiles wider. 

“Kokushibou.”