Chapter Text
"Who in their right mind would choose to become a demon?"
"I never said I was sane. I became a demon because I had a messed-up brain," you replied, a hint of bitterness in your voice. The moon, full and resplendent, captured your gaze, momentarily pulling your attention away from Tengen.
"Besides," you added, lips curling slightly, "you wouldn't have met me if I hadn’t turned, right?"
Your voice—soft, almost melodic—was the last thing one would expect from a blood-drinking demon.
Tengen studied you with an unreadable expression, equal parts curiosity and guardedness. His eyes met yours, and a mischievous grin crept onto his face.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re a hag," he snickered.
You narrowed your eyes at him, barely concealing your annoyance.
The more time you spent with the Sound Hashira, the more you realized his favorite pastime was teasing you like the insufferable prick he was.
"How old are you again?" he asked, this time with genuine intrigue.
"I'm not sure. I stopped counting a long time ago." You chuckled softly, though a trace of melancholy clung to the sound.
"Was it worth it?" he asked after a pause. "Giving up your life for immortality?"
You turned your gaze back to the sky. "It has its ups and downs, but... no, I don’t regret it."
In truth, becoming a demon had been your final act of salvation—a desperate clawing for life when you'd already been teetering on the edge of death.
You hadn’t really lived. You had existed. A ghost among the living.
Tengen's words lingered in your mind, reminders of the bleak monotony that had been your life. The world you came from was merciless—survival trumped joy, and prosperity was a myth reserved for the lucky few.
In a place like that, death rarely waited until old age. Most people were claimed early by violence, sickness, or cruelty.
In the shadows of your dirt-poor hometown, poverty seeped into every crevice. You watched people waste away—bodies collapsing from hunger right in the streets. It was a familiar sight, but no matter how many times you saw it, it always stabbed at your heart.
Dreams turned to ash. Faces that once smiled in hope now haunted your memories. You had dreams too. Hopes that clung to the edges of your soul. But reality was harsh, and fate was unkind.
Then came the night everything changed.
You stood at the edge of despair, ready to let the darkness take you—when a figure emerged from the shadows. Muzan. Pale as death, elegant as moonlight.
Fear flooded your veins. You raised your bread knife—pathetic, really.
A weapon meant to slice food, not monsters.
But Muzan didn’t attack.
"Please don’t waste your life," he said, with a voice that was both venom and velvet.
The words cut through the fog clouding your mind. His presence was overpowering, an eerie mix of charisma and dread that rooted you in place.
"I’m not here to hurt you," he whispered, his hand brushing your chin, his touch unexpectedly gentle. His crimson eyes met yours, piercing through your soul. "You are far too magnificent and precious to die like this."
You could barely speak, barely breathe. But the question still escaped your lips, trembling.
"Who are you?"
"I am your salvation."
You didn’t know it then, but that salvation would come with chains.
And even now, so many years later, you could still feel them.
A curse etched into your blood. A voice that lingered in the back of your mind like a shadow waiting to devour you whole.
*
“If there’s one thing I truly regret,” you murmured, "it’s meeting you... and Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma... too late. If only we’d crossed paths when I was still human—I would’ve fought with everything I had to stay that way.”
Tengen’s expression tightened, pain flickering in his eyes.
"And if I’d been born a little earlier," he replied, voice soft, "I would’ve asked for your hand in marriage. The five of us could’ve built something—something warm. Something safe."
You let out a sigh, heavy with dreams that would never be.
"I couldn’t have said it better," you said with a sad smile. "But... I’ll take what I can. Immortality led me here. I can die content—knowing I was loved."
Tengen, though a warrior of justice, was tangled in a truth he couldn't ignore: he loved a demon. One of Muzan’s own. A sworn enemy.
But you weren’t like the others.
You had protected him once. During your first encounter, he’d planned to kill you—swords drawn, mercy absent. But then you had stepped between him and another demon’s attack, shielding him.
He’d stared at you, stunned. A demon had saved his life?
"Aren’t you going to finish him off?" you had asked casually, breaking the tense silence.
That was the moment everything changed.
Now, seated beneath the same moonlit sky, the air between you felt heavier.
Back then, his tone had been cruel, his gaze sharp with disgust. And rightfully so. Like many demons, you had once reveled in killing—fueled by rage and the need to survive.
The night you turned, your hometown burned. The people who had hurt you... suffered.
Your path mirrored that of Gyutaro and Daki. Perhaps that’s why they sought you out, why you sometimes visited them in the Entertainment District like old, broken friends.
But unlike them, you grew tired. Revenge had lost its taste. The grief had consumed you—but staying there, in that anger, would’ve destroyed what little of yourself you had left.
So you changed. You learned to hide from Muzan. To kill only when survival demanded it. And you became an expert at walking the razor’s edge.
The turning point came when you risked everything for Makio. A demon had attacked her, and you—despite the pain the sunlight inflicted—rushed to her side. You shielded her. Carried her to Tengen.
He’d mistaken you for the attacker. But Makio defended you, told him you’d saved her life.
Everything shifted after that. Even Hinatsuru and Suma grew close to you. You became... something like family. Essential. Trusted.
Tengen’s encounter with Nezuko months ago only solidified the change in his heart. If she could fight her instincts—if she could live without harming a soul—then maybe, just maybe, you could too.
Maybe, just maybe... there was hope.
"You know," Tengen said gently, "we have a new Corps member. She’s a demon too—hasn’t eaten a single human in two years. Just rests and sleeps to recover. Makes me think... maybe there’s still a future for you, Y/N."
Hope glinted faintly in his voice.
But you shook your head, eyes lowered. "I killed hundreds, Tengen. Maybe thousands. I don’t deserve that kind of grace."
"It doesn’t matter," he said firmly. "You’ve changed. I know you have. I can vouch for you."
The words stunned you. A Hashira—a protector of humanity—risking everything to defend you.
Tengen felt it too. The depth of what he was saying. His fingers brushed the ring on your hand—the one he and his wives had given you. A gift on your newly declared birthday. A symbol of love and belonging.
"I love you," he said.
You froze.
The truth of it was too heavy to bear.
"I love you," he repeated, firmer this time.
Tears slipped silently down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized they’d started to fall.
"Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma love you too. Please, Y/N... reconsider—"
"Don’t," you whispered. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."
He went quiet, listening.
"The Flame Hashira’s death is a reminder. My kind... we cause destruction. You’re only in danger because I exist. Your wives are in the Entertainment District right now, risking their lives to save humanity. You don’t need more chaos in your life."
You reached for his hand, gently squeezing.
"Your friendship means the world to me, and knowing you love me... that’s enough. I can live with that."
Tengen, always flamboyant and loud, sat in uncharacteristic silence. His eyes turned from the moon to you, and he gave you a bittersweet smile.
"Then at least... let me wipe your tears."
You laughed weakly. "More will fall if you do."
"Then I’ll keep wiping them," he said playfully, brushing your cheeks with warm fingers.
You leaned into his touch without meaning to. He chuckled, his thumb stroking your cheek before giving them a soft, playful squish.
"Maybe in another life," he said wistfully, "all five of us could live under one roof."
Your smile trembled. "That would be a dream come true."
He smiled that radiant smile of his—and stole a swift kiss before you could pull away.
"I love you, Y/N," he said once more.
Later, as Tengen departed to prepare for his mission, a chill settled over you.
The girls in the Entertainment District—his spies—had gone silent. That alone was reason for concern. Tengen had to act.
You shared everything you knew with him before he left. Then you remained behind, atop the mountain where you'd spent so many nights together.
The moon now hid behind clouds, the sky dim and still.
To the wind, you whispered, "I love you too, Tengen."
But fate—cruel, cold, ever watching—had other plans.
"I have no need for a traitor like you anymore," a voice echoed through your mind.
Muzan.
You should’ve known. You had dared to love. To speak it aloud. That was the trigger.
The curse etched in your blood surged like fire through your veins. Your body arched in agony, muscles tearing, bones splintering.
No scream left your lips.
Only pain.
You collapsed onto the grass. The sky had lightened. Dawn was near.
You welcomed it.
Perhaps this, too, was a kind of salvation.
I dared to love, you thought.
Maybe that was the real betrayal.