Chapter Text
When the slayer finally stirred he woke Akaza as well, an angry, muffled, ‘Ahmkazma!’ filling the demon’s ears as he blearily blinked open an eye.
He was human err, demon again, not feline, at some point in their sleep Kyojurou had moved onto his back and Akaza had followed, and currently was half curled around the hashira’s head. The blonde’s face was currently buried between his pecs, arms wrapped loosely around his head, fingers tangled in his golden hair.
Honestly, the demon was comfortable, he was surprisingly warm, the blankets had been mushed and shoved around in their sleep, and his bare skin was pressed against the slayer’s chest, the occasional shift of texture of his skin telling Akaza where his scars lay. The demon merely shut his eye, content to fall back asleep.
Seemed the hashira didn’t agree.
A hand shoved at him, right at his bare hip, he grumbled and merely scrunched his eyes shut, nuzzling against a hair covered pillow, the hand shoved again, this time with more force, only for the demon to shift and the palm accidentally groped his ass in response.
This got the demon’s attention.
He growled, the hand retreating as if it had been burnt.
Another furious, muffled sound from under his chest, he could feel the slayer’s lips pressing against his skin, moving, folding around lost syllables. He huffed, giving his arms a little squeeze, his biceps clenching on either side of Kyojurou’s head.
He yelped when flat teeth snapped around the meat of his chest, causing his eyes to fly open and for his body to jolt in surprise. He half sat up, staring in complete and utter shock at the flushed, scowling slayer.
“You bit me.” Gleeful surprise colored his voice, already feeling a little more awake at the idea of a tussle with the slayer. “Oh please! As if you haven’t been biting me for days now!” “Yes but on the hand!” Akaza barked in return, petulant, the slayer merely glared, “Get off me.” “No. I’m comfortable.” Akaza growled back, narrowing his eyes, the slayer snapped his teeth warningly and Akaza considered reminding him that he could heal from almost any wound.
He shifted slightly, trying to ease the strain of the position from his lower back when the slayer’s cheeks suddenly turned crimson. “A-are you naked?” Akaza glanced at his lap, “Yea.” “G- get off!” It was nearly a shriek, the hashira clearly struggling not to raise his voice so much that it drew attention, “Whyyyyy?” Akaza moaned, he was warm, and so very petty. “Because!” Akaza huffed.
Rough, calloused hands found their way to his hips and grabbed on, bumpily depositing him from the slayer’s chest onto the meager space remaining on the futon. The mattress was colder than the slayer and right away Akaza felt the urge to clamber back onto the slayer and cling to his warmth.
Instead, he scowled, “What was that for?” “J-just put some pants on!” The slayer hissed in response, Akaza merely glared, baring his teeth in a silent snarl, Kyojurou bared his own dull teeth in response, fixing his rumpled kimono, pulling the curtains of the sides closed to cover his chest.
“You know what, I’m going to have breakfast, you stay in here unless you’re going to transform again, I can’t have my family realizing you’re a demon.” Akaza opened his mouth to respond but the blonde was already on his feet storming out of the room, aggravated and feeling strangely unbalanced, Akaza pictured a tiny, striped cat, and padded after the slayer on all fours.
—
It was afternoon by now, the sun high in the sky and Akaza avoiding it with a vengence, the morning had been lazy, he and Kyojurou had to have arrived at about six or so, and the slayer rose again at about ten, or atleast, thats what Akaza’s internal clock said.
He had padded after the blonde, practically on his heels, sat and watched as the man sat and talked with brother, eating something that smelled delicious, yet made Akaza feel ill at the scent. He frowned slightly, tail flicking, ears pinned as he watched the boy nibble on some sort of meat stuck between his chopsticks.
The boy’s voice was quiet, meek, a small smile gracing his lips, still, his eyes gleamed with relief as he watched his brother eagerly ramble about his missions these past few weeks.
“How did you find Tempura?” Senjurou interrupted gently, the elder of the two froze, lips twitching down as if he wanted to scowl, glancing at Akaza with a surprising amount of animosity. Or, well, Akaza supposed he shouldn’t be surprised anymore, he wasn’t Tempura, he was Akaza.
Demon.
Uppermoon.
Monster.
He was proud of all of those things, it meant he was powerful, that he was one of the chosen few, one of the blessed, but as he watched the hashira who had spent the last three weeks doting on him, cooing and stroking, pressing kisses to his forehead, glare at him.
Well, he didn’t feel blessed anymore.
He stood up abruptly, turning and padding away, he could hear Senjurou call his name- no- call a cat’s name, but he merely ignored the boy.
He padded down the hallway, following his nose, following the scent of sake and sweat, coming to a stop before a shoji door, it was just barely cracked open, less than an inch of air between the door and the wall.
Akaza merely stuck his paw in the gap, pulling, it was awkward, he was weak, small, the door didn’t want to bend to his will, but after a few long seconds of struggling it slid open a few more inches. It was just enough for Akaza to squeeze through the gap, chest constricted uncomfortably for a moment as he wiggled in.
Then he was free again, standing in a dark room, a snoring slump of flesh and blood just a few feet away from him.
On silent paws he stepped over to the man’s head, pausing to stare down at his face, slack in sleep, drooling, brows scrunched even in unconsciousness.
Even though he and Kyojurou were practically twins, this man seemed so much uglier, like a shirt that had been worn ragged and covered in stains, a wasted body.
A useless body.
A body that hurt.
There was a buzzing, a vibrating deep in his bones, his claws dug into the tatami mat, he didn’t remember unsheathing them, though he supposed that didn’t matter.
The man snorted, shifting, rolling onto his back, neck bared, open, unprotected.
Akaza wanted to crush it.
He wanted this man to suffer.
He wanted him to choke on his own blood, wanted to see him beg pointlessly for his life.
He wanted him dead.
The door slid open even further, he flicked an ear over towards the sound, not bothering to look away from this bag of flesh, this… rotting thing, not even worthy of being his meal.
“ Akaza!”
He ignored the hiss of his name, instead, he watched as the eldest Rengoku’s throat flex as he swallowed in his sleep, oh how easy it would be to shift, to allow himself to grow larger, more powerful, to reach over and crush this man’s head, his throat, to tear his skull from his spine.
A hand roughly grabbed his scruff, he hissed, a hand clapping over his muzzle as he dragged into the air, his body tried to lock up, to make him freeze like all cats did when scruffed, he kicked his legs, squirming.
Kyojurou briskly carried him out of his father’s room, tossing the tabby away and closing the door tight. Akaza merely hissed, one moment he was dangling, the next he was being flung like a dirty rag, he barely managed to land on his paws, whirling on the slayer and snarling, teeth bared.
Kyojurou snarled back, “What were you doing?!” He was still keeping his voice down, but the hashira was trembling with his anger, his fighting spirit flaring violently, hungry tentacles of his flame reaching out, trying to singe Akaza’s fur.
The demon simply growled, it was all he could do, he could transform, sure, but… he didn’t want to explain himself, he didn’t want to talk, his fur was prickling and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Kyojurou sent him a downright poisonous look, storming over to crouch down, reaching over he gripped the fur at the nape of Akaza’s neck, shaking him slightly. “ What were you doing?!”
Akaza bit him.
Hard.
The hashira jerked, eye flaring with rage, Akaza’s ears were flattened back against his head, his tail puffed up, tucked under his body safely, all he felt was that hand grabbing him, and it hurt.
“Let go.” Kyojurou snapped, the red of his eye was bright, burning, Akaza had always thought of it as a lovely, warm color, but right now? Right now it was the color of blood, cold, congealing blood.
It was the color of His eyes.
The hand on his scuff tugged, pulling at his skin, the fingers were pinching, too tight, too tight, big hands right in his face, blood red eyes, too tight- blood on his tongue -was it his?- too tight!
“Akaza…? A k a z a… ! ”
Skin on him, hands, rough hands, rough from years of… of what? No, smooth hands, smooth from immortality, dull nails, only dull for now, warmth stroking over his head, gentle.
Warmth?
That couldn’t be right.
Akaza opened his eyes, (when had he closed them?) Kyojurou’s face was a foot away from his own, a big molten pool of gold, his coal black brows drawn down in concern, in guilt, why? Why was he feeling guilty?
“Tempura… it’s okay, I’m sorry, you’re okay…”
Finally Akaza registered the fact that he had sunk his teeth into Kyojurou’s hand, deep this time, to the point where skin was pressed against his gums, a calloused hand was gingerly petting over his head, cautiously stroking over still pinned ears.
“God, I’m sorry Tempura… I’m so sorry…”
Akaza blinked, he unclenched just jaws, carefully pulling his fangs free from the flesh of Kyojurou’s hand, dragging his tongue over the raw wound, a flicker of guilt nipping at him when the hand jerked slightly, likely painful.
“I can’t believe I hurt you…”
What? Hurt him? Kyojurou wouldn-
Oh.
Oh.
Akaza jerked away from the hand still stroking over his head, his fur bristling, he felt like his skin was covered in ants, itchy and wrong, like tons of tiny bodies were crawling all over him.
“Akaza-“ Kyojurou started weakly, but the demon wasn’t listening, he threw himself away from the slayer, suddenly, he just wanted to be left alone.
— — —
Kyojurou’s morning had started off so well, and then so much had happened, Akaza revealing himself, having to come to terms with the fact that everything he had gone through with Tempura was fabricated, a lie.
Then, just when he had been catching up with his little brother, finally starting to relax again, he had felt it.
Killing intent.
There wasn’t much, no, there was plenty, it was simply like someone had thrown a blanket over it, muffling the sensation, Kyojurou was sure only he was trained enough to sense it, even if Senjurou did seem to grow a little uncomfortable.
It didn’t take a genius to figure how who was the cause of it, what did scare him was the fact that it was coming from his father’s room.
He had slid the door open, his heart clawing it’s way into his throat, when he saw Akaza.
Just… sitting there…
…staring…
His eyes weren’t the bright yellow of a dandelion anymore, no, there were blue, cracked ice, hateful rotten yellow irises focused on his sleeping father’s throat, his newly adorned pupils mere slits.
In a moment Kyojurou was reminded of the fact that this was an upper moon, an immensely powerful being who wanted to kill his father.
He had just moved.
One second he was standing in the doorway, hissing the demon’s name, then he was in the hallway, shaking with terror and adrenaline as he stared down the bristling demon in disguise.
Hatred had filled his chest, thick and heavy, like tar, this- this demon had pretended to be his friend, his pet, had barged his way into his life over and over again and showed absolutely no remorse, and now he was going to march into his home and try to kill his father?
Absolutely not.
Akaza’s eyes had reverted as soon as he had grabbed him, and now, as he scruffed him again, blue bled into the yellow.
He snapped a few hissed words, but the demon merely ignored him, then had the audacity to bite him!
Things escalated from there.
It was only when Akaza scrunched his eyes shut and started trembling, shaking under Kyojurou’s hands that he really understood what he was doing.
He was threatening a demon.
He was hurting a cat.
These things weren’t mutually exclusive.
He was hurting him, scaring him.
He shouldn’t care, but, when he looked at the little cat under his hand, all he could see was the terrified tabby who had grown to trust him enough to sit in his lap and purr, to perch on his shoulder and nuzzle against his cheek as he spoke.
He was hurting Tempura.
He let go.
He tried petting him instead, whispering apologies as wave after wave of guilt washed over him, of shame. Yes Akaza was a demon, but since when did that give him the right to abuse him when he was weak enough that Kyojurou could overpower him.
Wasn’t he supposed to protect the weak?
His throat felt thick, Akaza was still shaking, but after what felt like an eternity he cautiously blinked open his eyes, they were pure yellow again, pupils large and round, but even Kyojurou could tell it wasn’t from love.
In those black pools Kyojurou could only see his own face, and he felt ill, his hand throbbed but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He merely kept stroking Akaza’s head, apologizing softly, watched as those pupils slitted, awareness leaking back into Akaza’s eyes.
Bit back a hiss when a barbed tongue rasped over his torn skin, watched Akaza finally understand his words, watched the realization, as if the demon had forgotten what had happened before he closed his eyes.
And then he watched him run away.
Kyojurou didn’t give chase.
— — —
Akaza didn’t really think, he just ran, there was the sound of his claws clicking over the wood, the dull pangs of pain from his delicate nails slamming against the floor over and over again, but he didn’t even consider sheathing them. He turned a corner sharply and set his eyes on a display cabinet, it had a raised bottom, not by much, but enough that Akaza was able to scrabble underneath it.
He squeezed into the tight space, the wood pushed on his chest and back, but it didn’t bother him, he crawled until he was able to press his side against the wall, then squirmed around until he could face the outside.
Then, he sat.
And sat…
…And sat…
He watched as golden light crawled across the wood from the outside, watched as small socked feet crossed the room, heard the voices of the brothers speaking in surprisingly hushed tones.
At one point he heard chopsticks scratch on porcelain, the brothers speaking once again.
Finally, after the sunlight had turned to shadows, and then to red sun yet again, he felt calm.
Or at least, he felt a little more like himself, no longer was his mind silent except for the urge to hide himself, he blinked, his eyes felt a little dry. He considered crawling out, then decided he could stay a little longer.
—
“Akaza…”
He blinked open his eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping, but rather meditating, he didn’t meditate often, but sometimes when he had nothing else to do, he would find himself falling into the stance and mindset as if it was some long deep instinct.
Kyojurou was crouched down, torso twisted so his face was pressed to the wood, brows creased in guilt and concern. “Akaza, come on out… we have to go to bed.” Akaza wasn’t sure if he had the muscles to raise a brow considering he was a cat, but he tried his best, and the message seemed to get across because the slayer’s cheeks heated briefly.
“Come on… you transform in your sleep, what if you get stuck? Or break something?” Akaza honestly didn’t care if he broke something or not, he didn’t want to go with the blonde, if the slayer was just going to sneer and snarl at him anytime he wandered off then he was better off sneaking out tonight and finding somewhere to spend the day.
Kyojurou’s expression softened, big eye round and gentle, he extended an empty hand, “Tempura… come on, come’re good boy…” Something in Akaza ached at the words, it hurt to hear them .
He crawled out.
He was scooped up in the slayer’s arms and for a moment he bristled, lip twitching, but the arms were gentle, they held him carefully, cradling him against the hashira’s broad chest.
Warm, smooth lips were pressed against his head, the slayer spitting quietly as dust stuck to his lips, still, a hand crept up, arm sliding to keep him held carefully, then a thumb was rubbing his cheek, a finger rubbing at the curve of his jaw and Akaza melted.
Slumping, he let out a soft, almost petulant mew, Kyojurou’s chest seemed to cave in as he let out a wheeze of relief, then he stood, cautiously carrying Akaza back to his- their room.
Akaza was set down on the futon and only then he was aware of something clinging to his pelt, scrunching his muzzle in irritation he licked a paw, but it was covered in the stuff, dust, dirt. He gagged, spitting.
“Shhhh.” Kyojurou murmured softly, he was kneeling, a damp rag in one hand, Akaza eyed it, then dipped his head, “You’re covered in dust…” Akaza mewed, the ‘really? I hadn’t noticed…’ lost in translation, but he didn’t mind because Kyojurou’s lips twitched upwards anyway.
His movements were gentle, and the water was warm, wiping the dust and stray golden hairs from his pelt easily.
Within a few minutes Akaza was clean, if not damp and a little cold now, he blinked up at the slayer drowsily, he wasn’t very tired, but he was calm. Kyojurou stripped, but this time he had been careful to dress in his sleep clothes before he went looking for the demon, now he merely tugged off the jacket he had shrugged on for his search.
The kimono was a soft orange, it looked silky and soft and all at once Akaza wanted to curl up in the fabric, which was no doubt warm from Kyojurou’s body. When the slayer knelt down on the futon, and curled up on his side Akaza was quick to pad over, sliding under the raised arm and nuzzling against the space between the slayer’s arms.
One hand rested on his back, he pillowed his head on the other bicep, face practically buried in the slayer’s chest, a paw pressing against a sliver of skin that peeked between the curtains of hashira’s kimono.
The hand on his back came to life, gingerly rubbing at his back, Kyojurou murmured something but Akaza didn’t catch it, all he felt was the vibrations from the man’s voice rumbling through his small body. He closed his eyes and let a soft, lazy purr rumble from something deep inside himself, another series of vibrations, but he was already half asleep, all he could do was purr and feel sleep tug at his limbs, pulling him under.
He could leave tomorrow night.