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Sickness reeks. Akaza can’t tell if it’s his heightened senses or just the nature of sickness being a miserable affair, but it’s a terrible thing to be around. In his time as a demon, he’s done everything to avoid it, even if it meant starving for a few extra days until he could find someone healthy and bearable. It’s nothing personal to the humans themselves, it’s just a deep sort of repulsion that clearly transcends his life as a demon, though he can’t even begin to pin-point where he developed his distaste in the first place (you can also imagine how he feels about demons who specifically prey on sick people…).
But sickness comes to all humans, strong or weak. It’s entirely his fault that he forgot about that when his and Kyojuro’s relationship began, but it is a somewhat reasonable explanation for why he’s been staring at him with the intensity of a threatened animal since he wandered into his room.
“What’s wrong with you?” Is the first thing he asks as he comes upon Kyojuro, finding him half awake on his bed with an assortment of medicines and tea by his side. It would almost look like a hospital room if it weren’t for his distinctive belongings scattered around the place.
Kyojuro frowns at him, and weakly pulls himself into an upright position (well, weakly for him. He still looks like he’s in damn good shape given his strong body). “I’m-” using his voice immediately triggers a coughing fit, which startles Akaza and causes him to jump back on instinct. “I’m sick?” He croaks through his spasms, but succumbs to them once he manages to speak the obvious observation.
Akaza watches him, still wary, and wonders if he should just leave and come back the following week. A part of his mind begs him to do so because something about the scene before him is too familiar; Kyojuro hunched over, endlessly coughing into a handkerchief, looking much smaller and weaker than his normal self since, well, he is. It’s something that Akaza feels like he’s seen before, and it scares him. Whatever his body knows that his mind doesn’t tells him he needs to run now. What he’s seeing has definitely happened before, though he can’t remember it, but the instinctive dread says it ended terribly, and the pit in his stomach tells him he wouldn’t survive another tragedy like it again. But… Kyojuro looks so helpless, so different from the man he fell in love with, but not in a way that completely repulses him like he imagined it would, instead it makes him want to take the pain away. That’s what drives him to push all the thoughts of running away to the back of his mind and finally take a step forward.
He crosses the room and kneels down by Kyojuro’s side, placing his hand on the other man’s back. He hands him the chilling cup of tea from beside the bed and gently offers it to him, rubbing soothing circles into his clothed shoulder blade.
“Here, drink this.” By the weight of the cup, he can tell Kyojuro hasn’t had anything to drink at all, and a lack of hydration is probably the worst thing that can happen to him right now. Akaza, once again, doesn’t know how he knows that.
Kyojuro accepts it with shaky hands and manages to take three short sips which thankfully help calm him down before his gag reflex could kick in, which would’ve made this an infinitely worse situation. A few calming deep breaths in, most coming out in less intense sputters, and he can breathe again.
Akaza watches him worriedly, still rubbing his back in anticipation for anything else the slayer will throw at him. When Kyojuro finally pulls himself together, Akaza lets out a relieved sigh and asks, “seriously, what happened to you?”
Kyojuro shrugs, “I caught the flu.”
Akaza blinks, waiting for him to elaborate, but quickly realizes that it was supposed to be self explanatory. “What the fuck is a flu?”
Apparently that’s an even weirder thing to say, because Kyojuro is balking at him like he’s an idiot.
“You don’t know what the flu is?”
“Should I?”
“There was a pandemic a few years ago! It killed millions!”
“Millions of humans , Kyojuro. That doesn’t concern me.”
Not even a million demons would truly concern him, but he does recall hearing something about an influx of human deaths a while ago, it just didn’t interest him. Beyond the obvious, humans don’t interfere with his life, and he doesn’t interfere with theirs. Human affairs are boring and painfully mortal, something he hasn’t been able to relate to in well over two-hundred years. So, no, he wasn’t aware of a recent pandemic, and he’s not even sure what that means.
“Wait!” He suddenly snaps, “are you going to die!?”
Kyojuro, thankfully, just laughs and shakes his head, silencing Akaza’s worries with the literal wave of his hand. “Worry not! I’ve had the flu before, so my body is already acquainted with fighting it!”
That doesn’t sound right. “Is it a disease?”
“No, it’s a virus.”
The topic is getting more frustrating by the second because what the fuck is a virus!? He’s never heard anything about them before, did they exist when he was human? Would he remember? Surely he would since it’s obviously common knowledge to everyone but him.
The confusion must be evident on his face because Kyojuro further explains, “it’s just a sickness, Akaza, it’ll pass.” He smiles and adds, “thank you for helping me! I’m afraid I haven’t been very good about drinking any fluids!”
“I can tell,” seriously, virus or no virus, nobody is getting better when they’re dehydrated. Deciding to put his worries on hold for a moment, he smiles something cocky and drawls, “thought you were too strong to get sick,” knowing that that’s literally impossible, but a little flattery his boyfriend’s way can’t hurt.
“I’m only human, Akaza!” He boasts proudly, and Akaza fights the urge to roll his eyes fondly, “and besides, I’ll be stronger once I’ve recovered!”
A retort is right on the tip of Akaza’s tongue (one that would’ve been blatantly wrong since his knowledge of viruses is severely lacking), but they’re interrupted by the quiet slide of the screen door as it opens to reveal Senjuro.
He has a bottle of unmarked medicine tucked into his arm and wears a white mask that covers the bottom half of his face, including his nose. He doesn’t see Akaza right away, his eyes immediately go to Kyojuro with sudden concern, probably because he’s sitting up straight when he should be laying down.
“Brother, what’re you-” he begins as he walks into the room, but freezes as he catches sight of the bright-haired demon in his peripheral vision, slowly turning to acknowledge him with a quiet, “oh.”
“Akaza has joined us, Senjuro!” Kyojuro proclaims, seemingly not sensing the sudden tension at all.
“I see,” he murmurs, uneasiness spreading into every corner of his small frame, “hello, Akaza-san.”
“Evening.”
A part of Akaza wants to feel annoyed that the younger Rengoku still doesn’t trust him after all these months they’ve known each other, but in his defense, they’ve never really… talked before. They’ve shared meals (which is to say Senjuro and Kyojuro ate while Akaza watched), and exist in the same vicinity as each other (reluctantly), but anything beyond a formal greeting is nonexistent. It’s also for a lack of trying since neither of them seem to want to get close to each other either- which Akaza does feel guilty about, and he’s sure Senjuro does as well. Both of them mean a great deal to Kyojuro, they’re the most important people in his life, so there’s a shame that comes with their hesitancy towards each other since they know that at least a partial acquaintanceship would satisfy him. But at the end of the day, Senjuro is a young, defenseless boy, and Akaza is an old, dangerous demon, so it’s not exactly written in the stars.
Shaking off his discomfort (or at least trying to), Senjuro crosses the room and passes the medicine and a spoon to Kyojuro. “Kanao delivered this to us from Kocho-san,” he explains, “she wants you to take a spoonful every morning and every night.”
“How thoughtful of her!” Kyojuro beams, and Akaza blanks for a moment. He knows the Hashira are all friends since Kyojuro talks about them all the time, but he can’t imagine doing anything like that for the other Kizuki’s. Granted, he’s always hated them and didn’t dare go near them as an Upper Moon unless he had to, but it’s still a foreign idea to him.
Kyojuro continues, “how is young Kanao?”
Senjuro smiles, “she’s good! I think she’s going to join me, Muichiro and Mitsuri to find a gift for Genya’s birthday tomorrow!”
Akaza has… mostly no idea who these people are. He’s heard of Mitsuri before; to his understanding, she was Kyojuro’s tsuguko and now his fellow Hashira, though they have a very close sibling relationship. Muichiro is also another Hashira, he believes, but the other two names are lost on him. He doesn’t think he could keep up with knowing that many people, so he’s deeply impressed by how they can know so many people and remember them perfectly. Though, that does make it occur to him that being a demon is quite lonely.
Senjuro shares a few more token things about his friends as Kyojuro swallows down the apparently bitter medicine (which he gagged down like a child. Akaza smirked at that, and Senjuro lightly scolded him for being a baby). As he sets it off to the side, Senjuro reaches over and brushes his brother’s bangs out of his face, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning as he pulls away.
“Your fever hasn’t let up,” he observes, concern evident on his face, “you should probably take a hot bath. I could go get it started if you’d like?”
For some reason, the suggestion feels wrong in Akaza’s mind, and before he can stop himself, he blurts, “you’re supposed to take a cold bath for fevers.”
Both of them snap their heads over to look at Akaza in surprise, not expecting him to say anything on the matter. Senjuro blinks at him once before slowly explaining, “no, you take a hot bath to help break the fever.”
Akaza frowns because there’s no way that’s correct , “hot baths can overheat someone and make it worse. You take a cold bath to bring the fever down.”
“Cold baths can give someone shivers and make the sickness worse, they need to sweat it out.”
“The risk of getting too hot is more of a concern.”
“Yes, but being in cold water for too long is what helped him get sick in the first place.”
“You can’t-”
“Both of you are wrong!” Kyojuro suddenly declares, scaring them both out of their skin, “you’re supposed to take a lukewarm bath to avoid any risks!”
Oh. Well that does make sense…
Senjuro’s face burns with embarrassment at the prospect of being wrong, and Akaza just huffs, not wanting to admit he might have outdated information stored somewhere in his mind.
“But yes, I would like to take a bath!”
He whips off the covers and begins to stand up on shaky legs, to which both Akaza and Senjuro scramble to their feet to help him, but he waves them off with the same signature smile he always has.
“I could get it started for you,” Senjuro offers.
“No need! I can take care of myself!”
Akaza narrows his eyes at him, “you’re sure you don’t need help?”
He nods, “positive! But there is something I’d like to ask.”
“What?” Both Akaza and Senjuro ask at the same time, looking a little embarrassed at that as well.
“I’d like to eat! Could you two please make me something while I bathe?”
…What.
The request has both their jaws dropping in shock- most of all Senjuro, who looks like he’s going to clamp up with anxiety already.
“Together?” He squeaks out, bringing his hands together and squeezing them nervously, “are you sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Akaza agrees, “don’t you need help, I dunno, bathing or something?”
That’s worse actually, and has Senjuro gaping at him in pure disgust.
He doesn’t get to think about the implications of his words before Kyojuro quickly shuts the idea down with a wave of his hand, his cheeks a little pink. “Ah, no! Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself. I would just appreciate it if you two could bring me a meal.”
Of course his words offer no comfort, and Senjuro and Akaza take a tentative step away from each other.
Senjuro glances up at the demon with indecision. “Do you even know how to cook?”
“Of course I do,” he replies sharply, and confidently despite having no idea. He imagines it must be impossible for him not to have cooked once or twice in his human life (he may not remember it, but he knows he wasn’t rich enough to have people cooking for him) but that was centuries ago. His muscle memory would have to be incredible for him to pull off any sort of meal. He won’t admit that though, not to his lover and definitely not to a child.
Senjuro looks skeptical, but Kyojuro claps his hands excitedly before he can ask any further questions. “Wonderful!” He barks, “I’m sure you can come up with something tasty!”
“Soup,” Akaza decides curtly and immediately, “we’re making you soup. You need to stay hydrated.”
The younger boy once again looks hesitant, probably feeling weird about agreeing with a demon, but nods his head regardless. “He’s right, you won’t get any better without drinking lots of fluids.”
Kyojuro frowns at that, probably imagining a much heartier dinner than they’re offering, but he doesn’t argue or show any resistance. “Then I eagerly await your creation! Now, please excuse me.”
And just like that, he slips out of the room and leaves the two of them alone. Suddenly, they both wish they fought his suggestion just a little more adamantly. They’re stiff as boards, and while Akaza would love to slip into his more relaxed, carefree attitude, something about Senjuro makes him too nervous. Not that the boy is dangerous- quite the opposite actually. He doesn’t think Senjuro would have the heart to kill a spider even if it landed on his face. No, he’s kind even if he doesn’t like Akaza (which is to be expected. Nobody is going to easily love a demon. It’s funny too, because Senjuro’s natural filter will deteriorate every time Akaza is around, and he says much harsher things than he’d say to a human. Once again, that’s to be expected), but he still makes him feel on edge. Maybe it’s because he knows Senjuro will always be the most important person in Kyojuro’s life, that Senjuro will always come first in his heart. It’s possible that if he really demanded it, Kyojuro would kick Akaza out of his life for good. And it’s not that he doesn’t respect that, he’d understand and take it with… some dignity. It’s just that… well, there’s a part of him that wants to make a good impression on Senjuro because of that, and he’s already upset that being a demon puts him at a disadvantage.
It’s irritating to think about.
A sudden, quiet sigh leaves Senjuro as he removes his mask, one that Akaza might’ve missed if he didn’t have advanced hearing.
“We should get started,” he says, “my father is asleep, so you don’t need to hide.”
Akaza already knew that. The old man seems to only be awake for two or three hours at a time on any given day. He doesn’t say that though, he doesn’t need to spook Senjuro any further with his in-depth knowledge of his family’s daily schedules.
“You know what we’re going to make him?”
Senjuro nods, and begins walking down the hall to the kitchen, Akaza slowly following. “Just a clear soup. We don’t have much time for anything else, so this should do just fine.”
Sounds boring , Akaza thinks, but he’s right, He wonders what they’d make if they had more time. Probably something extravagant that would fit Kyojuro’s taste better.
“How’s it made?” He asks before his mind can stop him. He has to resist the urge to slap himself when Senjuro gives him a funny look.
“I thought you knew how to cook?”
He grimaces, “well… I don’t know every recipe in the world.”
“You can’t make clear soup?”
It must be easy, painstakingly so for him to be taken aback like this.
“It’s… been centuries since I last cooked, “ he admits, “I just need the basics.”
Senjuro narrows his eyes at him, “why’d you say you could cook then?”
Akaza shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, pointedly keeping his eyes on the floor as he desperately tries to come up with an explanation that isn’t I’m stupidly in love with your brother that I do and say ridiculous things , but his tongue and brain won’t work to save his life. Maybe he’ll walk out into the sun when this is all over.
Senjuro’s eyes slowly widen as the realization dawns on him, and with it, a disbelieving smile. “Wait,” he says, cocking his head to the side, “you’re just trying to impress Kyojuro, aren’t you?”
His blood art may be made of ice, but he could’ve sworn he was going to catch on fire from the embarrassment alone.
“You-!” He bites out, momentarily scaring Senjuro enough to shrink back into himself, the smile vanishing entirely. Akaza shrinks back as well, a surprising wave of guilt washing over him. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “you say that like it’s a bad thing…”
Senjuro stares at him for a moment, waiting for a different, more violent reaction to follow. He relaxes when he realizes nothing is coming. “It’s not,” he remedies, making his voice softer, less mocking, “it’s uh, sweet I guess. You care about him, right?”
“Of course I do,” Akaza answers without hesitation because, honestly, it’s not even a question in his mind.
Senjuro shrugs, “then I’m glad.” And ducks into the kitchen.
Akaza watches him curiously as he follows. Senjuro heads to the counter where a pile of food is laid out along with some prepped bowls. He was probably planning to make Kyojuro dinner even before he suggested it.
“Why do you say that?” Akaza questions as he steps up beside the young boy. He honestly has no idea what to do with the ingredients laid out before him, but a weird, nagging part of his brain wants to look helpful anyway. It’s also a little embarrassing to be shown up by a teenager, but he doesn’t want to think about that too hard.
Senjuro shrugs again. He pulls out a knife and places it on the side of a cutting board, taking a yellow onion from his pile and getting to work.
“Nothing,” the knife slices through the onion with a loud crunch, “it’s just that Kyojuro has never let anyone take care of him before.”
Akaza watches his hand movements carefully, taking note of how he makes a claw around the vegetable to hold it in place, but tucks his fingertips in as to not cut them. “He doesn’t let you?”
“No, not really. He’s always out getting hurt, but doesn’t like to let me do much beyond bandaging him. He’ll always say something about how he’s fine, or how he should be taking care of me since he’s the oldest, and tries to do it all himself.”
Akaza frowns, “I never took him for prideful.”
“Oh no,” Senjuro shakes his head urgently, like the mischaracterization of Kyojuro is something that needs to be corrected as fast as humanly possible. “It’s not something he’s prideful over, I’m sure of that. I think he believes that any injury he sustains is a burden on everyone around him, and that asking for help is too troubling for the rest of us.” He sighs, frowning deeply, “he doesn’t want to let down that wall. Not even when he was injured at the tra-” abruptly, he stops, both mid-sentence and mid-chop, and Akaza turns his head away in shame.
“Train… He didn’t want to accept help then either.”
Akaza swallows tensely. He doesn’t want to respond, but he feels wrong about ignoring it altogether. “Yeah… He’s stubborn, isn’t he?”
Senjuro nods slowly, seeming a little distracted and uncomfortable again. He works a little slower through the vegetables now, cutting more hesitantly like he hardly remembers what he’s doing. He looks lost in thought, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s on his mind.
Still, Akaza jumps when he hears Senjuro sniffling. He whips his head around to see his eyes well up with tears, a few slipping down his cheek. Senjuro jolts in surprise as well, dropping the knife and pulling his sleeves up to wipe the evidence away.
“Sorry,” he mumbles through the cloth, “it’s- it’s the onions. I have sensitive eyes…”
“Oh,” Akaza mumbles softly. He doesn’t believe it, seeing how onions don’t tend to have an effect on people’s noses as well, but he doesn’t pry. Instead he reaches out to the cutting board himself, “here, I’ll cut them.”
Senjuro’s eyes widen as he lowers his arm, “but you can’t cook…”
The demon shrugs, “it’s just chopping. I’m sure I did it at least once as a human.”
Again, that’s probably true, but he’s not completely confident in it. All he knows is he’s been watching Senjuro’s practiced knife skills for a few minutes now, and it looks relatively simple enough. Better yet, he can’t be fatally injured through his hands, so who cares how bad he’ll be injured if he messes up?
“Okay… Just don’t cut yourself and get blood on the vegetables.”
Oh, yeah there’s that too, but he’s still confident he’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Kyojuro has tasted his blood anyhow.
Senjuro goes quiet after that, save for a few sniffles he can’t control, and Akaza pretends to not hear any of it, even if he has the best senses out of anyone in the area, even another demon.
He feels bad for Senjuro’s sorrows, which is a funny thought in itself, feeling bad for a human. His sympathy for humans has always been limited, he doesn’t even feel sympathy for women despite his refusal to kill them. He feels for Kyojuro obviously, but he’s never grouped Kyojuro in with the whole of humanity, even if he’s blindingly proud to be a part of it. In Akaza’s mind, Kyojuro is something beyond his mortal bounds, more beautiful and far more special than anyone he shares a species with. So he doesn’t think much about how Kyojuro not only plays on his sympathy, but his empathy as well. That’s just how it is between them.
Senjuro though, well Senjuro is human. He’s a small, weak human with only the resemblance of someone Akaza believes to be superior to him. Still, he can’t help the feeling that he needs to fix the discomfort he’s created. He doesn’t want to be the reason he’s crying, or the one to bring him any further pain. It’s… an unsettling feeling, for all the wrong reasons- or maybe the right reasons. He’s not an Upper Moon anymore, after all.
His grip on the knife falters for just a second, his palms becoming sweaty.
“I… never thanked you.”
Senjuro’s breath goes still at the sudden inquiry, and he brings his arms down to his side slowly. “What for?”
“For keeping mine and Kyojuro’s secret.”
He’s not looking at Senjuro, so he can’t read his face for a reaction, but he can see, from the corner of his eye, the subtle way nimble fingers dig and twist into the fabric of his pants.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he whispers lowly, like he’s telling him a secret, “I don’t- I don’t want anything bad to happen to Kyojuro. They could kill him if they find out.”
Akaza snorts before he can stop himself, “they’d never kill him.”
“... What makes you say that?”
“They love him,” he states simply, like any other possibility doesn’t exist, “even if we did get found out, they’d point their swords to me sooner than they would him.”
Senjuro mulls the information over, his lips pursing together. “You may be right,” he decides, “but even so, I don’t want you out of my brother’s life. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy before. I don’t think there’s anyone else capable of giving him that other than… you.”
Heat rises to Akaza’s cheeks (which is already unnatural for a demon, but for him? Completely unheard of) but he forces his eyes to stare straight ahead. Sure, Kyojuro has said similar sweet words to him before in a more private setting, but hearing it from Senjuro is different. Self doubt will always weigh in Akaza’s heart when Kyojuro flatters him, his mind tries to convince him they’re all lovesick words that hold no truth in the end. But, Senjuro has no reason to express the same sentiment to him, not even now as they’re finally talking. There’s no reason unless be’s being genuine.
And though they haven’t known each other for long, Akaza knows Senjuro is no liar.
“I won’t hurt him,” Akaza states firmly, filled with a confidence he’s only felt in the heat of a battle. “You asked me that once, and I promise I won’t.”
Finally, they lock eyes, and Senjuro smiles.
“Thank you.”
It’s not long before the vegetables are cut and ready to cook. Akaza may be new to the kitchen, but he’s always been a fast learner, and this is thankfully no exception. Its actually make him more interested in cooking, but not nearly enough to make it a hobby of his. Maybe he’ll just help the Rengokus out more often.
Senjuro combines them in a pot with two parts water and broth, bringing everything to a boil in a few short minutes. This is the boring part that keeps Akaza from getting too excited. It really is a blessing that demons don’t have to wait to eat their kill (not that he knows that life anymore, but he still liked the convenience of it).
“How long does this take?” He asks, peering down at the golden brown liquid, wrinkling his nose as the steam that kisses his skin.
Senjuro shrugs, “an hour, I think?”
“Won’t Kyojuro be done by then?”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He usually bathes for a half hour anyway, but when he’s sick?” He snorts, “we’ll be lucky if we see him before the sun rises.”
Akaza chuckles at that, Kyojuro is quite the character, but he loves him for it.
Senjuro adds a few last ingredients, spices mostly, for flavor. Akaza always found that to be an amusing thing humans do. They eat for survival, yes, but pleasure as well, as if the nutrition means nothing to them compared to the taste. Some demons are like that as well, but not Akaza. Everyone tasted the same to him.
He pushes himself up onto the counter next to the stove to sit, feeling a bit bored already. If that’s rude or perhaps inappropriate, Senjuro doesn’t comment on it, or show outward disapproval. The boy places a lid on top of the pot and takes his place standing beside it with a wooden spoon in hand, though the soup is better off going untouched at the moment.
The silence that follows is relatively long, but not nearly as uncomfortable or tense as before. Sure, their presence is still unnatural around one another, but Akaza can hear how Senjuro’s heartbeat stays steady this time, even when the demon shifts or yawns. He would never tell Senjuro how precise his hearing is, precise enough to hear when his blood pressure goes up, but there was a point before when he almost wanted to snap at him to relax because it was so loud. Now though, it’s like hearing a quiet faucet run.
“Akaza?” Senjuro’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence, this time catching Akaza off guard. He grunts in question, prompting him to continue. He sounds disinterested, but Senjuro doesn’t become deterred by it, and continues.
“Would you… Would you mind if I ask you some questions?”
Akaza quirks an eyebrow, “depends. What kind of questions?”
“About yourself. If, uh, if that’s alright.”
The demon frowns curiously, giving Senjuro his whole attention, though he’s taken to shyly inspecting the spoon in his hand. It’s amusing how bold he can be in short spurts only to shrink back when he thinks he’s over done it, Akaza thinks.
“What for?” He cocks his head to the side, and adds with a smirk, “trying to find a weakness?”
Senjuro’s head shoots up in surprise, almost horrified by the idea. “No, I’m not interested in that!” He jumps to explain, though the demon’s casual attitude tells him it was all teasing in the end, so he relaxes.
“It’s silly,” he mumbles, “but I’m trying to write a book. You see, my family records their adventures in lengthy journals that we save and pass down. Kyojuro has his own in the works, and I was supposed to write one as well, but…”
But he’s not a slayer. He doesn’t need to say it, nor does Akaza, they both know what he means.
“I still want to write, though. And I figured that, since I can’t write about my own experience, I’ll write about everyone else’s.”
Akaza’s frown falls in favor of interest, and he finds that it’s becoming quite difficult to pretend to be nonchalant as he listens. “A book about the Demon Slayer Corps?”
Senjuro nods, now smiling. “Yes, exactly. I’ve met so many wonderful slayers in the past, lots of friends too, and I always feel like it’s a shame they may go without having their stories told in one way or another.”
His eyes shine brightly at the idea, but as he comes to the end of his sentence, his optimism dries up with it, and he slips into a more remorseful demeanor.
“I don’t know when the war will end,” he admits, “I hope soon, at least in my lifetime, but there’s no way of telling. All I know is that the world hardly knows about the Demon Slayers as it is, and whenever the demons are defeated, it’s likely those who defeated them will fade into obscurity as well. I want there to be a record of who they were, and what they did. Their stories should survive in one way or another.”
It’s a noble idea, Akaza has to admit, and he can’t think of a better, more caring person to bring that vision to life, but…
“I’m not a slayer,” Akaza points out, “isn’t it a bit counterproductive to include a demon’s story as well?”
Senjuro shakes his head. “Not at all. I think a demon who switched sides is more than worth including.”
“Nobody knows about me- or is supposed to.”
“I know, but maybe there will be a day when they can. We might be long gone by then, or maybe it’ll be in a few years, but I don’t think that’s good enough to write you off.”
Akaza stares at him with an unreadable expression, waiting for some sort of realization to dawn on the human, one involving the ludicrous nature of including a traitorous demon in a story honoring the slayers meant to hunt him down. And besides that, Akaza doesn’t think he’s worth remembering.
His life and legacy is something that’s better laid to rest in a grave nobody will ever find. He’s done terrible things and seen even worse, things that should be left to time as if they never happened in the first place. That’s what he decided on after breaking the curse. He’d spend Kyojuro’s life with him, soaking up every last minute until it ends, and then he’d end his own life as well. Maybe that’s sad, he knows Kyojuro wouldn’t like to hear it, but he doesn’t care. His life should be nothing, he’s not worthy of anything different. He’s not worthy of being passed down to a generation that’ll come to be long after he’s gone. The idea of it alone makes him feel dirty.
But, Senjuro looks so hopeful at the idea, probably imagining the story it’ll make rather than the implications that come with it. He doesn’t want to be included, he shouldn’t be included, but he doesn’t want to take this from the human.
“Alright,” he agrees, “Kyojuro would appreciate something like that.”
Senjuro’s spirit, though usually a tiny flicker in Akaza’s vision, shines a little brighter at the notion.
“I hope so,” he shyly admits, “so can I start?”
Akaza nods.
“Okay, um… how old are you? That’s a good place to start, I think.”
It would be, if Akaza knew the answer.
“I don’t really know,” he shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek idly, “old. I know I’m at least over a hundred.”
“Wow,” Senjuro marvels, a muted wonder in his expression, “you must’ve seen a lot in your time, huh?”
“Eh…” Akaza sighs, waving his hand around in a half-hearted attempt to convey his complicated history. “I didn’t spend much time around humans. I was more of an errand boy, you could say. Kibutsuji kept me busy most of the time. I don’t think I saw much at all in the end. Well, not until recently.”
It’s a disappointing answer, Akaza thinks, but it’s the truth nonetheless. Not that he ever cared for what the humans did either. They only served as a meal to get him stronger, whatever became of their culture and societal advances was none of his business, and he liked it that way. In turn, he was quite isolated- no more than the average demon, but still alone. And when you’re alone for so long, with an eternity ahead of you, years pass like months until something finally snaps you out of it. So, no, Akaza doesn’t know how old he is, and he’s barely seen anything of the world.
“But,” Senjuro continues, “you care now, right?”
“You could say that.”
“What changed?”
Well, that’s an easy question. It’s not a question at all in his mind, it never has been.
“Kyojuro.”
Senjuro smiles at that, and Akaza doesn’t wait for him to request elaboration. He’s rambling before he can stop himself.
“He’s… different from the others. He has this… intoxicating love for life and humanity. Most slayers do, but Kyojuro finds the beauty in every stupid, little thing.” He huffs, the bittersweet memory of their first battle surfacing. “And he gave me a chance. It took a while, but he still did.” He doesn’t know why, there’s times when he believes Kyojuro should’ve just killed him and be done with it. He’s had plenty of chances. “I guess he sees something I don’t.”
It’s plainly obvious what Senjuro is thinking, even if he doesn’t voice it. His softened eyes and rosy smile, a familiar expression to Akaza, as Kyojuro shares it as well. Of course, it’s not the same, but it fills the demon with a sense of warmth that he’s still getting used to, having never felt it for other humans before.
Unable to resist the urge, Akaza pats Senjuro on the head.
Senjuro doesn’t flinch, or cower away this time. If anything, he brightens under the affection, and Akaza wonders if this is one of the things Kyojuro loves so much about having a family.
“So you turned for Kyojuro?” Senjuro asks as he pulls away.
“Yep.”
“Wow,” he sighs wistfully, like a child hearing a fairytale. “That’s… Oh! I should go get my journal and write this down.” He rushes to the hallway, almost tripping, and calls over his shoulder, “stay there!” As if Akaza would go anywhere.
It doesn’t matter. The demon grins regardless as he watches him go. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
…
“It smells delicious!” Kyojuro shouts excitedly as the two return to his room, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea ready for his consumption.
Senjuro brings the meal to his side while Akaza takes a seat on the opposite side next to his lover. As much as he enjoyed his time with Senjuro, he can’t deny his desire to always be attached to Kyojuro’s hip. He probably won’t leave him alone for the rest of the night.
“How was cooking together?” Kyojuro presses, never one for subtlety, not that either of them expected it from him.
Senjuro smiles something small and shy, but Akaza is the one to answer.
“Fun,” he plainly states, though he can’t hide the kindness in his tone.
Immediately, Kyojuro’s entire face lights up, and he turns to Senjuro, who nods in agreement.
“Akaza is good company. His cooking skills need work though,” he adds the last part with a teasing grin.
“Hey, I-” Akaza chokes, knowing he’s right, “I cut the vegetables!”
Kyojuro’s boisterous laugh shakes the room, impressively loud for a sick person.
“I’m thrilled!” He exclaims, “perhaps when I’ve recovered, we can all cook together!”
Of course, he means Senjuro would cook, Kyojuro would prematurely eat the ingredients, and Akaza would observe with his surface level knowledge. Still, it doesn’t sound like a bad time, not by a long shot.
“First you have to recover,” Senjuro reminds him, standing up again. “Eat. But eat slowly! Don’t make yourself anymore sick, okay?”
The urgency in his voice tells Akaza that there’s been an incident in the past that prompts the warning in the first place. Not that he’s very surprised…
“I will be careful!” Kyojuro promises with a reassuring wave, “though I appreciate your concern!”
“Of course,” Senjuro replies softly. “I’d love to stay, but it’s late, and I have a few errands tomorrow. Akaza can help you though, right?”
The demon shrugs, “sure.” But they both know he’d do anything for Kyojuro if he asked.
Kyojuro nods understandingly, “get some rest. I appreciate your help tonight, thank you!”
Senjuro preens under the praise, which seems to be something he always does. “Of course, I’m happy to help!” He walks to the door, sliding it open a crack. “Sleep good, brother. Oh- and Akaza?”
The demon perks up, humming in question.
“Thank you for your help, and for the talk.”
Kyojuro looks between the two of them with interest, but Akaza keeps his gaze on the boy in surprise- not because he thought Senjuro wouldn’t thank him, but because he can’t remember when anyone other than Kyojuro bothered to treat him with this basic level of respect.
“Anytime,” he replies, covering up the mess of emotions unraveling in his mind.
With that, Senjuro smiles and leaves, shutting the door with a quiet slide.
There’s a short minute of silence as his footsteps recede down the hall before slipping into their own room. Akaza’s shoulders drop once they’re truly alone, turning to Kyojuro with his signature sly smile.
“You’ll have to let me bathe with you next time-”
There’s more he wants to say, his ever mischievous nature tempting him to fluster his lover even when he’s sick, but he doesn’t get a chance. Instead, Kyojuro’s leans in, practically flinging himself onto Akaza, and steals a kiss right off his lips.
It only lasts a second, maybe two, but it’s just long enough to wipe Akaza’s brain completely blank. He struggles to reboot as Kyojuro pulls away, and only manages to squeak out a rather undignified, “hi?”
Kyojuro chuckles, a noise that never fails to fill Akaza’s body with golden warmth. It makes him wonder why any demon would be so desperate to chase the sunlight when something infinitely better exists in the man before him. Actually, no, he hopes they’ll keep searching as long as they live. Kyojuro is his, after all.
“What was that for?” He presses.
Again, Kyojuro chuckles, “to thank you, of course.”
“Thank me…” Unfortunately, Akaza’s brain is always slow to follow when Kyojuro flusters him. And to think he thought he’d be the one to render his lover speechless tonight. “For the soup?”
Clearly not, if Kyojuro’s fond eye roll is anything to go off of. “Partially, yes,” he reaches out for Akaza’s hand, intertwining their fingers gently, redirecting his gaze to where they’re connected, “but I’m talking about Senjuro specifically.”
He runs his thumb over Akaza’s skin, and Akaza wonders if he’s doing this on purpose. It’s never easy to tell with Kyojuro.
“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, unintentionally whispering.
“I want to.” As if to make Akaza more of a mess, he brings their hands up to his lips, and kisses Akaza’s knuckles. “You don’t know how much it means to me,” he whispers into his skin.
“I…” God, he’s useless like this. Flirting and sexual advances he can handle, it’s his forte after all, but this kind of gentle loving? It works at making him melt better than any sensual touch ever could.
He clears his throat, forcing his mind straight so he can get at least one coherent sentence out without completely succumbing to Kyojuro’s addictive love.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he blurts, but that sounds awful, snapping him out of his haze. He scrambles to explain, “I mean, I did it at first because you asked,” I’d do anything for you , “but he’s a good kid. Better than any of those brats you work with.”
Kyojuro frowns at that, but Akaza didn’t expect anything different.
“He’s a lot like you,” he continues, not wanting to get scolded for insulting Kyojuro’s juniors again. “He’s smart, passionate and…” He trails off, wondering if there’s anything to lose voicing his thoughts from earlier. Maybe there would be if he was with anyone else, but he can never lose with Kyojuro.
“He’s kind.” A small, barely visible smile graces the demon’s lips, and he meets Kyojuro’s gaze head on. “You did a good job with him, you know that?”
His sweet words make Kyojuro smile as well, and he leans in for another kiss, only to be stopped by Akaza’s other hand.
“You’re still sick,” the demon reminds him teasingly.
Kyojuro pouts in confusion, “you’re a demon, you can’t get sick?”
Akaza rolls his eyes, “I still have standards!”
But, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to kiss him as well. So, as a compromise, he leans in and kisses the barrier he’s made between them, and feels Kyojuro’s lips press back against his fingers in turn.
“I’ll give you a real one when you’re better,” Akaza promises as he pulls back, dropping his hand, “but you won’t get better if you don’t eat.”
Kyojuro barks in laughter, nodding and sending his fiery hair everywhere.
“It’d be a shame to waste it!” He agrees, turning to his meal, but hesitates for a moment. Looking back over his shoulder, he asks, “are you staying for the rest of the night?”
What a stupid question. Akaza has to roll his eyes at it, but his love seeps through anyway.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”