Chapter Text
It's late when Akaza finds him.
He knew the demon had been following him and likely expected Kyojuro to make the first move. But he doesn't. His heart is too heavy for that.
He doesn't even lift his eyes from the grass when he hears footsteps approaching. Even when he hears the creak of the wood and feels the unnatural chill that radiates off the other's skin he doesn't turn and look.
"I don't have any patience for you tonight, demon," Kyojuro says. He tries to keep his voice stable but even he hears the slight warble that accompanies it and how rough his throat is from crying.
"Your spirit is low," the demon says. His voice is soft and quiet, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. "Something is wrong."
"Nothing is wrong," he snaps back, far too quickly.
The demon says nothing. Simply sits beside him and gazes out at the night sky.
"I've been having dreams ever since I met you, Kyojuro. They started after our fight."
Akaza's voice is low but it makes Kyojuro prickle.
"Someone is there with me. I can't see their face, but they're so warm and kind. We sit like this but during the day, out in the sunlight. My skin is tanned and my hair is black and I'm smiling. And then they're gone and it feels like they've been ripped away from me. Perhaps we were lovers in a past life, Kyojuro."
That gets a laugh from the man, short, sharp, and unexpected. "You'd know if you met a Rengoku."
"Oh?" the demon asks and he can hear the smile in his voice.
"Our lineage has very distinct features. Always has, always will. People say the only difference between my brother and me is our height. And I know how I'll look when I get older. I'll look exactly like my father."
Kyojuro can't hold back the anguish that seeps into his last statement. He loved his father, he truly did. But the thought of becoming anything like him in any way, even if it was simply shared features, scared him. He couldn't let darkness and grief consume him like it had his father.
"What about your mother?" Akaza asks.
Kyojuro flinches a bit at the statement. "What about her?"
The demon senses he's deflecting but says nothing about it. "Surely you share features with her?"
Kyojuro can feel tears welling in his eyes again but the memory brings a grin to his lips. "She said we had the same nose. So identical we could swap it and no one would notice."
Akaza laughs quietly at that and it makes Kyojuro's grin grow.
"It may sound odd, but I think we have similar hands. I just remember, when I was younger, thinking how my hands looked more like hers than my father's."
He gazes down at his hands as he says this, flexing the digits. His hands now are covered in calluses and scar tissue and healed burns. But when he was younger, he'd often sit in his mother's lap and watch her hands as she worked and thought about how much he wanted his own to resemble hers.
A tear slips down his cheek and drops onto his open palm. He closes it swiftly as if trying to will it away.
"Your mother sounds wonderful," Akaza says. "If only you'd stop being so rude and introduce me to your family."
"You can't meet her," he whispers. He hopes the demon didn't hear him.
But he did and Akaza grumbles, "What, am I not good enough to meet her? I'd clean up, of course, apologize for our earlier fight, and maybe even bring a gift! What flowers does she like?"
Kyojuro's throat feels like it's been melted shut. He opens and closes his mouth and still the words don't come out.
"Kyojuro?" the demon asks and he nearly sobs at how tender his name sounds.
"You don’t understand, today is—it’s been—" a sob cuts off his words. He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he swears he can taste blood. His eyes stay fixed on the ground.
Akaza shuffles closer, his cold bare shoulder brushing Kyojuro's own clothed one.
Kyojuro buries the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to scrub the tears away. "She just got sick and never got better. And we tried everything, everything, and nothing worked! And I know she said she was okay and she was at peace but I wasn't! And I know it's selfish of me, but I needed her! And—"
His emotions finally overtake him and he lets his tears flow freely. He moves his hands down over his mouth, trying to quiet his sobs at least a bit.
Some part of him, distant and quieted by the sobs wracking his body, feels ridiculous for sobbing in front of a demon. The same demon who had nearly killed him and whom he had done unspeakable acts with. The same demon who now sat idly by him, saying nothing as he sobs.
He knows how abnormal this is for him as well. He was always sorrowful during this day, but today it hit him even harder, considering the demon he'd been dispatched to kill.
"She looked like her," he whispers between his hands, his voice warbling. Before Akaza can ask, he continues, "The demon I came here to kill. She looked like my mother. I don't—why did she look like her?"
He wasn’t asking for an answer. He just had to say it, get it out of him, out of his mind. The demon seemed to sense that and said nothing in return.
Kyojuro isn’t sure how long he sobbed for. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. The tears stopped flowing eventually and his shoulders stilled and his hands fell into his lap. His neck ached from how long he had been hanging his head. If it weren’t for the gentle press of a shoulder against his own he would assume Akaza had left.
He jumps when a cold hand reaches out and gently encircles one of his palms. He finally looks over at Akaza only to find the demon’s own eyes cast down and away from him. It appeared he was staring intently at his hand as if trying to memorize every callous, cut, and scar littering his palm and fingers.
“You’re not selfish, Kyojuro,” the demon whispers, as if he was talking to himself. “I think I lost someone once. Perhaps the person in my dreams. I can’t remember their face but I want them to come back to me. But I don’t think they can.”
“You loved them?” Kyojuro asks. Akaza’s brows are knitted and he looks lost deep in thought. The question makes his face soften instantly.
“Yes, I did. It’s strange, I can’t remember what they looked like or their name, but I remember that I loved them, and I think I still do.” He finally raises his eyes, meeting Kyojuro’s own. “And I lost them. But now I have you and I feel the same thing I felt for them as I feel for you.”
Kyojuro feels his breath catch in his throat and his heart skips a beat. He looks away as his cheeks flush. “If this is a ploy to convince me to become a demon—”
“No Kyojuro!” Akaza shouts, shockingly loud against the quiet night. He crowds into the slayer’s personal space, pressing their foreheads together. “I mean what I say! You think I would risk myself like this for a ploy? No, Kyojuro, I risk it for you.”
The slayer refuses to look into his eyes again, keeping his gaze averted, staring down intently at the wood. “Don’t say that. I’m not worth risking that for.”
“But you are! I’ve never met someone as amazing as you, Kyojuro. Even if I die right this moment, I’ll die happy, simply being near you,” he insists.
Kyojuro can feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. He finally looks up, meets the other's eyes, and lets the tears slip down his cheeks. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"I know," Akaza murmurs. He's staring at him intently, lovingly, and it makes Kyojuro's heart throb in a way he'd never felt before.
The slayer knows his next move to be selfish and unwise, but he can't bring himself to care. He closes his eyes, sighs, and then pushes forward, pressing his lips to Akaza's. The demon makes a confused noise before quickly reciprocating, his lips parting easily, and humming in contentment as Kyojuro runs his tongue lightly over his fangs.
The slayer pulls away to breathe, panting against the demon's lips. He brings the hand not being held by Akaza up to cup the demon's jaw, running a thumb along his cheek.
"You're always so cold," he mutters. He finally opens his eyes to find Akaza staring at him with a dazed smile.
"Why not warm me up then?" Akaza purrs, bringing his free hand up to press on Kyojuro's chest, encouraging him to lean back.
Kyojuro winces and hisses in pain. Akaza frowns at him and begins to unbutton his jacket.
"It's nothing, you don't have to do that," Kyojuro protests. But soon his chest is bared and Akaza's cold hands brush over swollen red skin, already turning purple in some patches.
"I got kicked in the chest but I'll be fine," Kyojuro protests, reaching down to brush away the demon's hands. But Akaza stays put, eyes trailing over the wound. His eyes drift lower and he stops to stare at an unfortunately familiar knot of scar tissue residing over Kyojuro's solar plexus.
He could have punched straight through the man. In fact, he would have. But Kyojuro had pulled back at the last moment, leading to a shallow wound and extensively bruised organs and fractured bones. Akaza still isn't sure how he survived. Even more surprised at how his eye remained intact, the only hint of damage was his oddly shaped iris.
Akaza isn’t sure why he ducks his head down and presses gentle kisses to the mottled scar tissue. He hears Kyojuro gasp in surprise as he does. He pulls back and leans his forehead against the man’s chest.
“Such a strong spirit,” he murmurs against his skin. “You deserve so much, Kyo. I’d give you the world if I could.”
“I don’t want the world,” Kyojuro sighs. He brings his own hands up, encircling the demon in a loose hug.
“Then whatever you want, you name it, I’ll bring it to you,” Akaza replies.
“Even if I wanted all demons eradicated?”
Akaza shifts, looks up at Kyojuro, locks eyes with him. “I’d walk into the sun for you, Kyo. Drag Muzan out there with me too if you asked for it. All I want in return is to see you smile at me.”
Kyojuro blushes so hard he swears the heat from his cheeks could start a fire.
Wind blows through the trees and the cold air over his exposed chest makes him shiver. Akaza presses a kiss to his chin before sitting back. “Come on. Don’t need such a strong fighter dying of a cold.”
Kyojuro lets himself be led into the common room of the house. The village had been exceptionally kind to him, offering a small unused house tucked into the woods. It showed signs of aging and the floors had creaked a little unsteadily under his feet, but it was far better than camping in the woods.
The fire in the irori had died down to almost nothing. He watches as Akaza nudges wood into the glowing center, reviving the flames. Kyojuro steps out of the room to wash up and change out of his uniform.
When he returns, the demon is lounging out across the tatami in front of the small fire, looking at the flames with pride.
“What do you remember from being human?” Kyojuro asks as he pulls his futon closer to the heat. The night isn’t cold, but the well-worn yukata he’s changed into doesn’t provide as much insulation as his uniform.
“Hmm?” Akaza asks, looking up at him.
Kyojuro lays down on his stomach, hands clasped under his chin to prop his head up. “Your dreams. Perhaps they were memories. Did you dream of anything else?”
Akaza is silent for so long that he worries he’s overstepped somehow. But then the demon sighs. “Sometimes, my body feels sore, like I’ve just gotten out of a fight. But I can’t be sore, I can never be sore. And I know how to do certain things that a demon doesn’t need to know, like tending to a fire and making tea. I must have done all of that when I was a human."
"Maybe there's hope for you yet," Kyojuro says. At the demon's confused look, he continues, "Would you ever become human again? If given the chance?"
Akaza is silent again, longer than before, and Kyojuro resigns himself to not getting an answer. His eyes are becoming heavy and the futon feels so soft beneath him and the fire so warm. He's halfway asleep when he hears the demon say, "Only if it means being with you."
Kyojuro falls asleep with a smile on his face.