Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was cool and quiet the evening it all fell apart. The moon hadn’t dared show any of its faces to the heavens, as such light so usually failed to do when it came to Kotoha. Never any witnesses, never any intervention.

She’d stopped dreaming of such things long ago. All that mattered - all she could rely on - was the strength in her gait and the power of her lungs.

She was running, desperately. Her feet caught on fallen boughs and twisted tree roots and she did not pay any mind to the rocks she stumbled over. All that mattered was pressing onward - as fast as she could. Every now and again she’d gently breathe a begging ‘shhhh’, trying in vain to quiet the screaming child in her arms. Tears were streaming down her bruised face and one of her large emerald eyes was swelled almost completely shut which didn’t help navigating the darkness.

It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter

She could taste the alcohol - smell it on her still. His disgusting presence still dug its nails into her skin even with the distance between them. Familiar bruises ached more than the cuts from the brambles or the chafing. She could not stop - she would not stop. There’d be worse than hell to pay if she did.

She could hear his distant shouts pursuing her, or maybe screaming in frustration at the wood he’d lost her in. He’d always been quick to give up, but she knew better than to hope for the best. She was never so fortunate. Her son still wailed to the sky, betraying their location and she could not risk it. She stumbled through trees, tripping over roots and stones in the darkness of the moonless night. The baby, swaddled in blankets screeched louder, either affronted that he was so rudely ignored, or still in pain.

"Shh," Kotoha whispered to her son, holding him closer and ducking under a low-lying branch. "Shh... it's okay... it'll be okay."

She took a moment to listen. No more distant shouting, but that hardly meant anything. If that drunk was pursuing them, he was doing so quietly which only chilled her bones and forced her to take off again. It was too easy to imagine a familiar hand reaching for her in the dark.

The baby continued wailing and Kotoha continued running. It was too late, that moment of rest robbed her of the precious adrenaline that had kept her going. It drained out of her like lifeblood from a beast’s neck and left her heaving as she forced herself to take another step.

Keep going. Keep moving.

The cold seeped in, no longer held at bay by the raging tide. It crept through her thin kimono, dotted with blood, and clung to her like a second skin. Oh gods, maybe Inosuke sobbed because he was freezing. Maybe they’d outrun one monster to die to a faceless one.

No, no. No, there had to be more. There had to be something. She pulled the baby closer, tightening the blankets that swaddled him as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands were beginning to tremble, and with the respite she’d been given she could see the blood under her chipped nails.

She hoped, at the very least the bastard hurt. She hoped her nails had dug deep enough, that she had swung hard enough, that something would ache in that monster. Then again, if that was true and he caught up -

She was running again. Directionless and foolishly she had no other choice, never did when it came to such things. She had to hope she was heading south. There were more towns to the south, miles away but towns all the same.

She would make it, she had to.

At the very least she’d try. Her foot caught on a well-hidden root and she slammed into the ground doing everything in her power to land on her side which jarred a new pain in her hip. Inosuke was screaming again: startled, but unharmed thanks to how she’d fallen.

Everything in her objected as she pushed herself up, soothing Inosuke with half-breaths. She winced to catch sight of her scraped knees, but was more concerned about the ache now radiating in her hip.

She could not stop. Forward. Move, Kotoha. Move.

She did. She pulled her child into her chest and tried to push herself further. It seemed the forest had gone silent in the wake of their misery, not a bug or a creature stirred. Then again, she could hardly hear her own son's wails over the rhythm of her panicked heart. Her run was more of a quickened job but even that was tearing her apart like a pack of wolves.

She needed to find shelter. She needed to get away. She had to keep moving until -

Light!

She let out a cry of relief and stumbled through the trees. It was distant, glimmering on a distant hill but it was there! Now she just had to hope whoever was home would let her in, everything else would be dealt with later.

She slowed, finally, at the foot of the hill. It was a large building, far bigger than any home she expected to see. There was no clear path to it either, just a couple of worn foot-trails. Someone powerful lived here? Rich? She trudged up the hill, taking greedy deep breaths as her mind raced.

It would take an especially heartless person to turn away an injured mother and child - but it would take an average person to demand some payment for their kindness. What could she offer?

She held Inosuke closer as she paused, her body trembling for a different reason.

She had to go. She had to. They wouldn’t make it in the cold. Tears slipped down her face as she gathered the remnants of her courage. Whatever they asked, whatever they needed, as long as they let her stay - just the night. All she needed was the night.

Someone was watching.

Her attention snapped up and she whirled around, everything in her body on high alert as familiar instincts screamed she wasn’t alone. They were rarely wrong. She clutched Inosuke closer, backing away as her wild eyes studied the woodline.

Something was out there - she could feel it. Something… predatory.

A bear? Maybe…

The forest was silent, as it usually was when it came to dangerous things. Whatever it was - it was watching her. The hair on her arms stood on its end and her back was prickling with anxiety.

Paranoid. She was just paranoid. She had to be. And if she wasn’t, few predators attacked when you looked at them. She kept her eyes everywhere, straining for a hint of movement as she backed further and further towards the house.

She felt exposed, isolated - the worst thing for a piece of meat to be. And maybe it wasn’t a bear. Blessed adrenaline returned as the realization snapped through her.

Maybe it was him.

She turned and sprinted with a newfound energy. Make it to the door. Make it to the door - just make it to the door!

She did. She collided with the thing. It wouldn’t budge. Inosuke was wailing again - he must sense the same thing. Something stalking closer, something wanting. She desperately began to pound on the door, looking behind her as if expecting to be pounced on at any moment.

Nothing in the wood stirred. Nothing approached. That didn’t quell the terror rising in her throat because there was something out there! The forest was bare behind her, the shadows flickering in the glow of the monastery, but no monsters emerged from its depths, neither demon nor man. That did not quell her fear.

After an eternity, and yet only a minute, an older woman opened the door. They both paused in surprise at the visage of the other.

The woman was well-kept, despite the hour. It didn’t seem as if she’d been sleeping at all, dressed for the day with her hair up in an intricate style. The building was bright, flooding Kotoha’s senses with incense as its air drifted into the sky.

The stranger’s eyes grew wide as they took in the tragic sight on their doorstep. Kotoha let out a shaky breath, knowing full well she did look a mess.

The bruises, the dirt - the eye. There was a bit of blood splattered on her kimono from her husband’s broken nose. Leaves and twigs were caught in her messy dark hair, which was tangled beyond recognition at this point. Inosuke, ever the opinionated one, was wailing miserably and was flailing his small arms at the unfairness of it all.

The stranger hesitated and for a terrifying moment, Kotoha thought she was about to close the door.

"Please!" Kotoha cried falling to her knees. Anything, anything - she’d do anything. "Please offer me sanctuary! My husband! My husband is chasing me - He can’t, please don’t let him - Please help me!"

The words caught in her throat as desperation tore her raw. She’d stopped again - fallen to her knees. Nothing in her body wanted to stir now. Running? Her legs wailed against the idea.

Please. Please, please, please -

“Goodness, of course! Come here.”

A warm hand gently took her free one, helping to pull her to her feet. The woman was not that much older than her, but she smelled like honey and her hand was remarkably smooth, not a callus on her palm.

Soft brown eyes led her in and held her up as Kotoha numbly removed her shoes. Her bare feet were blistered and battered much like the rest of her, and she tracked dirt on the wooden floor.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind.

“Take a seat, rest a bit,” she urged as she led Kotoha to a nearby cushion.

Rest. Kotoha leaned on the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting. The adrenaline faded into a distant roar as her breaths finally slowed. Her senses returned to her, and only then did she realize how loud Inosuke truly was. She had to smile - she had to. Such spirit tied into her unbroken, wild son. Something her husband had never tamed. Would never now. She’d gotten away. She laughed so, so weakly and bounced the baby in her arms.

"Shhhh," she soothed lovingly, tears still streaming down her face, "Shhhh."

He stopped crying eventually, pulling his arms back to his chest and opening his large green eyes. Those eyes matched his mother's, and for that, she’d always be thankful. He gazed up at her and whimpered, as he tended to do when he was puzzled. Kotoha only smiled at the boy and bounced him.

It had been a confusing few hours for someone so little.

"It's okay now... It's going to be okay," Kotoha murmured, planting a kiss on the boy's forehead.

"Here’s a blanket. Are you okay?" the woman was back, offering Kotoha a piece of fabric softer than anything she’d owned. She took it, gingerly and covered herself and Inosuke with it. His hands were cold to the touch, and she wasn’t any better.

"I am okay," Kotoha nodded, her eyes glued on her child. Now. She was now.

The other did not respond, likely because she could clearly see the answer to her question. It was painted all over the newcomer, from the blood on her kimono to the bruises on her face. It stirred something self-conscious in Kotoha that died just as quickly.

She’d gotten away. She’d gotten away!

"I'm going to go get a doctor... and awaken the Gracious One to tell him you're here," the woman murmured.

"What?" Gracious One?

"You're in the Eternal Paradise Temple, don't worry. The Gracious One will not mind you being here, but he will want to know about this," the woman assured her, before running down the hall and vanishing from sight.

Kotoha only let out a small breath and slowly tried to slow her tears. The details were something to worry about another day. Gracious One aside, the temple was much warmer than the outside world and for that she was thankful. She began to relax and smiled in relief as the candlelight flickered over her wounds and her filthy kimono.

She was lucky, it seemed. These people seemed kind.

A coo directed her attention back to her child who was reaching for strands of her loose hair. She giggled and stroked her son's cheek with the back of one of her fingers.

"No one's going to hurt us anymore," Kotoha promised her son. "No one's going to yell at you anymore."

The baby looked up at his mother's face, his large emerald eyes settling on the large purple bruise on his mother's cheek. His lip trembled and he let out a whimper before crying again. This time, however, he was quieter.

Such a clever boy, her Inosuke. Always had been.

"No... no, it's alright," Kotoha soothed, "This isn't your fault."

The baby's large eyes looked up at his mother's matching ones which regarded him with nothing but love and adoration.

"Babies are supposed to cry. Every good parent knows that. It's not your fault that he got upset."

She could hear her husband's voice in her head, cursing her child, her son, for crying too much. He was raging against a baby for crying...

Fear died under a moment of rage, and then the cold steel of acceptance. She held her boy closer and wished, not for the first time, that she had been stronger. Faster… anything other than what she was.

"It's not your fault," she soothed weakly.

Inosuke let out a snotty babble.

She could almost see his huge hand being raised to strike her child as if it were happening again. Oh, she had wanted to kill him. Wanted to make it all stop. All she could do was grab the nearest thing she could and slam it into his face.

She remembered hurting. Everything hurt and she had begged it to stop. It didn't, he didn't. She remembered finding his hand in her mouth and biting. Biting his hand with all of the force she could give. She remembered him screaming and that had been the prettiest music she’d heard in a while.

Then he’d punched her.

She reached up and gingerly pressed at her swollen eye. Oh she must look quite the fright. But… remembering how he had looked with a twisted nose and blood running down is face. Gods, she wished she had been stronger.

The tears were coming fast now. The realization was setting in and she needed to calm down. She’d run. She’d run. There was no going back now. She’d taken Inosuke - there was no going back.

It had been so easy too. He’d punched her and then went to tend to his hand. He must’ve expected her to stay there, cradling her face. She hadn’t. She’d thought - it was foolish now - but she’d hoped that even drunk and raging the man she’d married would never raise a hand to their boy.

She remembered scrambling over to her baby, her son, who was screaming and crying and wailing as he so often did when things got bad. She grabbed him and she ran.

She had run and she had gotten away.

She made it.

The baby in her arms babbled something unrecognizable and was able to grab a strand of his mother's hair. He tugged on it lightly and laughed when she bowed her head to his whims. In response, Kotoha smiled and pressed her forehead against her little one’s.

"We're safe now Inosuke," Kotoha told the boy. "We never have to be afraid of him again, okay?"

Inosuke cooed and touched his mother's face, not understanding what she was saying but smiling regardless. It was so rare he got to see his mother so happy.

The doctor came within the next minute: an older gentleman. That same woman was back too. Amaie, she introduced herself as. She’d brought a fresh change of clothes for Kotoha and the baby.

“We have a room, and you’re welcome to stay however long you need,” Amaie vowed. “You and your little guy.”

“I can’t pay you -”

“My dear,” the doctor chastised. “You are in the Eternal Paradise Temple! We charge nothing for those in need of our services, save respect and performance to our lord.”

“Your… lord?” Kotoha echoed warily.

“Don’t mind him, the Gracious One rarely demands anything of newcomers, and he certainly won’t mind you taking your rest,” Amaie soothed. “Come on, we’ll take you to your room.”

“I… When you say perform -”

“Nothing like that! No, some sing, some dance, some tell stories - it’s to entertain our divine lord with mortal things. Don’t - don’t worry about any of it.”

Kotoha likely should’ve worried about it, but the temple was warm, and Inosuke had stopped crying, and the Doctor was offering her food… cult or no, she’d take the rest. She could play along - and who would come looking for her here?

She followed the two deeper into the temple, relishing the kind lamp light and the rich smells. There were more people up than she’d expected, tending to the gardens or talking in the halls. They looked… alright. Healthy and unharmed. It didn’t loosen her grip on Inosuke. A few glanced at her, a few stared, and one even gave Inosuke a little wave which uncoiled some of her anxieties. No one moved to intervene.

“Ah, our lord has returned from his evening walk,” the doctor hummed, turning towards a window. Kotoha craned her neck to peer over the doctor’s shoulders.

The window looked out to the entrance of a garden, a large wooden gate separating it from the outside world. A collection of people bowed as one man stood above them all. He was tall with platinum hair, but Kotoha couldn’t tell much else about him. Something was tingling in the back of her neck, but it was likely just lingering paranoia.

“Come on,” Amaie laughed. “You’ll meet him soon enough. First, you should bathe and rest and eat -”

“Not in that order!” the doctor objected. “You should eat first, get some nutrients in you and the boy!”

Kotoha chuckled weakly as the two began arguing, but kept her eyes on the strange figure outside. He was greeting those who bowed to him, his back to Kotoha and she was content to try and pick him apart. He seemed human enough - exactly what she’d expect from a cult leader.

Because… well, this was definitely a cult. Or something adjacent to it. But… it was all she needed. She could run, again, if necessary, but she hadn’t sensed any malevolence from the two she’d met so far.

The ‘Gracious One’ turned, and Kotoha felt her interest piqued.

He stared at her, through the window. They were too far away to make out any finer details, but his eyes seemed colorful. It was a momentary look - maybe he sensed someone staring at him as she could. He smiled; or did something similar, and then went back to talking with his devotees.

Kotoha was shaken out of her thoughts by the doctor: “Fine! We’ll compromise. My dear you go to the baths with Amaie and I’ll fetch you some food. What would you like?”

What would she like? She didn’t think she could eat much of anything right now.

“Something… light? Please,” she managed.

“Of course! And some mashed food for the little one!” She’d give it to the doctor, he was… something. The old man pressed on and Amaie shook her head with an exasperated smile.

“Don’t mind him, he’s noisy and opinionated - and very forgetful, but he means well.”

“I don’t mind him at all,” Kotoha smiled.

“Good. Now, come with me. I think you’ve earned your rest.”

Chapter Text

Douma didn't enjoy, well, anything.

As with all emotions, he could fake it extremely well. If he may brag, of all emotions he could put on the front of pleased better than even Muzan could. And, he supposed there was a level of entertainment value in what was aesthetically pleasant. The gatherings the temple had every night after dusk when the meager humans would perform for him and each other were pleasing. He would lounge in his chair and smile when acts were impressive and give a polite nod when they were terrible.

And, he supposed, their nature could be described as enjoyable. Watching a collection of mortals do their very best to impress him was somewhat endearing - in a fruitless pathetic sort of manner.

It was how things had always been. Sometimes the performances would help him decide who to eat and who to spare - who was noisy, obnoxious, and who was manageable and pleasant. He liked the ones who were polite. The ones who were passionate. Well, liked was a strong term but he supposed they were more interesting than the others.

There was nothing particularly interesting about the newcomer. He supposed her story was somewhat tragic which made his little followers all the more endeared to her. The young woman seeking refuge from her husband a few weeks back. She'd been given a new kimono and was now much cleaner than she had been when Douma had first seen her. Without the dirt and the blood and the unwanted nests in her hair, a human may even call her beautiful. She would probably taste decent too.

It had taken her a long time to offer her gift, and even now she did it with a performative reverence. There was no awe in her eyes or hesitation in her form and that was far more interesting. Maybe she didn’t buy into his divinity. It had been a long time since someone had looked him in the eyes and dismissed such. That kept him cautious, but somewhat entertained.

Would she run, eventually? Once she had grown bored with this little haven. Would she pretend? Swallow her beliefs for a safe place and a warm bed. Humans had to worry about so many useless things - such fragile creatures.

Her new green kimono matched her soft eyes and reminded Douma of a summer meadow on a moonlit night. Her smile was sweet and polite when she bowed - but nothing more. The strangest thing had been that she hadn't put her child down. The boy, who looked identical to his mother, was quiet and glanced around the room entranced by the many colors and sounds. Duoma was not as familiar with human children - it was so rare to have them in the cult. Most of his followers fled from society for a variety of reasons, but usually, all came alone and all came as adults. Some fled from the law, some from hierarchy or expectations or pressures or whatever else humans were subjected to. The demon didn’t mind, it kept the numbers up and kept his appetite satiated.

Honestly, his fellow moons made it so hard on themselves. Humans were just moths, set up a warm light and they’ll fly right into your teeth. Good food, a warm bed, a haven of paradise - and they’ll call him benevolent until the very end.

The child interrupted his musings. He was wrapped in a warm black blanket and sat still in his mother's familiar arms, beginning to squirm in what he had to imagine was discomfort. Surely she didn't mean to perform with him. That would be… odd.

"Gracious One," the woman greeted warmly, smiling at Douma, as all humans did.

"Kotoha," Douma greeted in return. He "knew" all of the human's names but they weren't names to him but rather mere placeholders for the word "human", just as "human" was a placeholder for "food". Still, she smiled to see he remembered her.

How easily impressed his followers were.

"My gift to you tonight is my voice.” It was a simple declaration but had a few of the room’s inhabitants grinning with joy. Ah, she must be a pleasant personality to have so many excited.

Perhaps he’d keep her alive then. Pleasant personalities kept everyone at ease. He’d eat the previous act though - they’d been so boring. Then again, if this woman’s voice was grating he’d rather hate to keep her around.

As if to answer, Kotoha looked down at her son and began to sing. It was something akin to a lullaby and the boy grew silent almost instantly, eyes wide as his mother rocked him.

It was probably supposed to be moving, Douma supposed. Humans were always so pleased with good parents and little children. He’d never understood it, but he listened politely all the same. He did find it interesting that she was more entranced with her son than him. She never once looked up to see if her Gracious Leader was paying attention, nor did she look to the audience for a hint of recognition or praise. She just stared at her son.

Was she nervous? Hard to tell, it was always so tricky to decipher those pesky emotions on a human’s face. Her smile was far too steady, though. He found himself leaning forward in his seat to try and decipher that look in her eyes.

What was that?

It wasn’t familiar but his instinct was to call it adoration. No, Douma knew what adoration looked like. He was adored every day; waited upon and bowed to. He was reverently respected because he was adored.

The woman, however, was gazing upon her son with an emotion that the demon couldn't quite place. He always considered himself bad at placing new sentiments, but this time it was bothersome. He didn't even have a clue. It was one thing to confuse irritation with bloodlust, it was another to be completely lost.

How intriguing.

As the woman's voice rang out Douma was torn away from his thoughts. Her voice was clear and seemed to glisten as it rang through the air. It wasn't the typical loud and impressive voices usually displayed. Her voice was softer, gentler. It reminded him of the night sky; soft and comforting and yet twinkling with the sincerity of stars... oh he was getting poetic now. Perhaps he should give a hand at poetry one of these days, for the kick of it. It may prove entertaining...

Sincerity - yes, that poetic word likely described the woman's tone. Every word she sang was full of some strange but very true emotion, and every bit of it was aimed at her son who watched her sing to him silently.

Odd. So fascinatingly odd. It was as if he wasn’t even present - as if no one in the room existed except for that bundle of flesh in her arms. He’d heard his cultists call her a good mother, and while he’d never seen any he supposed that must be what this was.

But to lose the world as she did. To pay no mind to the demon before her or the mortals to her back. What was that like? How did that feel?

The singing stopped and Douma blinked. Over already?

Finally, the woman looked up, a relieved smile on her face: "I'm sorry Gracious One, that is all I have to offer.”

There were the nerves he was familiar with, the momentary eye contact followed by a nervous shuffle. Oh, she was self-conscious. How strange.

"That was beautiful," Douma murmured finally, something similar to amusement on his tongue. "I don't think I've ever heard anything more exquisite."

Kotoha seemed even more embarrassed, "It was a... just a lullaby... but thank you."

How easily flustered she was now - where was that unshaken bravery she’d had a moment ago? Oh, he was fascinated.

“Please, sing whenever you’d like,” he put on his best smile. “I think everyone here would enjoy it.”

Indeed his followers didn’t have to fake their enjoyment. They beamed and whispered and congratulated the young mother as she hurried back to her seat. Kotoha, Kotoha, Kotoha… yes he’d keep her alive. That was an entertaining performance thanks to her and her son. And the little lump of flesh had all those around him cooing and coddling him - even while he slept.

Maybe this was a chance to observe human children - to see how a child was supposed to grow. It would be tragic, of course, to watch another mortal grow into something powerless and pathetically emotional, but tragedy had never bothered him.

If anything it would be informative.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

He had made a gross miscalculation. He did not know the baby’s name. Not a huge oversight on his part, but it wouldn’t do to go questioning his followers so openly about names - not when he’d made a habit of memorizing them so the puny things wouldn’t question his divinity.

The issue was all his followers just called the baby… well… the baby. He was the only child in the cult and so had collected a variety of nicknames from the little guy to the cute menace.

None of these were appropriate titles to refer to a child, not from its god (not that Kotoha believed in his divinity - of that he was certain now. But another small experiment of his was to see if the child would inherit his mother’s skepticism. Was that sort of belief taught or ingrained? What would win out, his mother’s logic or his community’s fanaticism?

It was a fascinating little side experiment he had going. But he still had the very present problem of not knowing the baby’s name. He’d have to fix that.

That was what initially had him straying further from his usual routes. Kotoha was held in one of the many corners of the cult, in a comfortable but private community, composed of only women. It had become the unofficial wing for those seeking such refuge and Douma had never had much reason to visit it.

Not that he was visiting it, more lingering around the gardens and hoping to overhear someone call the child’s name. The indoor gardens were his usual haunts so no one questioned him, even if he was favoring the east gardens more than usual. No one ever questioned him, not for long anyway. Hmm… actually he was going to have to eat that one scribe of his - the man was getting too nosy about the last mass disappearance and wasn’t buying the usual: pilgrimage excuse.

Ugh, but old men were always so sour.

“Yes, aren’t they pretty?”

The distant voice had his attention immediately, a pleased hum rumbling out of him. Or as near-pleased as he could get. Seems she came to him… inadvertently.

He strolled silently around familiar trellises, peeking around as he found the source of the whispers. Kotoha was by the lotus pool, sitting with her feet in the water and that child of hers on her lap, reaching eagerly for the closest bloom.

Oh, how sacrilegious.

Despite him not making a sound or move the woman turned, eyes widening as she recognized him.

“Oh - oh my go - I mean gracious one, I didn’t -”

“Please,” he stalled her before she could jump up. “Don’t rouse yourself.”

She pulled her feet out of the water all the same: “I meant no disrespect -”

“My followers believe these pools to be sacred because I frequent them,” he purred. “That is not a belief I instilled in them.”

That didn’t seem to quell her fears. Interesting. What… would? Humans valued… companionship? Similar natures found kinship, so perhaps…

He took a seat a few feet away and slipped his own feet in the cool waters. They were still warmer than he was but the lotus’ danced at the ripples in a somewhat pleasing manner.

Aha, that had worked. Kotoha seemed to relax, rearranging the baby on her lap who was… gnawing on a stone? That didn’t seem very comfortable - or clean…

“I can go -”

“I don’t mind either way,” Douma supposed. “Though it is late to be out.”

“Inosuke couldn’t sleep.”

Inosuke. Perfect, and so easy. There you were, problem solved. He was truly a genius. Inosuke, at the sound of his name, threw the stone he was holding and babbled some incessant nonsense that had his mother smiling again.

“I thought babies were supposed to sleep more than adults,” Douma mused as he took in the chubby child’s ridiculously pudgy hands. Such fragile-looking fists were swung with serious ferocity. Kotoha had to pull her head back to avoid being smacked.

“You would think.”

Oh, such a tone. Sarcasm. It had been a while since someone took that tone with him, he didn’t mind it; never minded anything, but especially didn’t mind this.

“He’s never been great at sleeping through the night,” Kotoha supposed slowly. “But he likes exploring so… I just…”

“How kind of you,” he praised with a familiar faux smile.

She stared at him for a minute and he blinked. She didn’t smile back - usually, humans smiled back when he praised them. Did it not sound sincere enough, was they something wrong with his smile? Oh, keeping up appearances was so exhausting.

Maybe she didn’t like the praise? That would be odd…

“What… keeps you up, gracious one?”

So respectful suddenly. Did he have a switch too? Something to flick on and off to keep appearances. Oh-ho! If so which side was the real Kotoha?

He grinned at her: “I’ve never been good at sleeping through the night either.”

Sleeping at all, in fact. Even back when he was human, those many boring years ago, he’d never taken to those long slumbers.

“Well, thank you for your understanding, divine one - I’ll be off now,” Kotoha managed, standing quickly.

He could stir the pot a little, couldn’t he?

“No need to keep up appearances when it’s just us two.”

Kotoha stopped - why did he smell fear? He hadn’t meant to be imposing. He studied his reflection in the water and tried to recreate a softer face. Ohhh, he was always so bad at looking earnest.

“I… I don’t know what you mean.”

Well, he’d dug this hole. He’d either bury her in it or satiate his curiosities: “No need to call me divine when you don’t believe it.”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back; “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about and I mean no disrespect -”

“Relax,” he waved her off with his best smile. “I meant what I said. No need to keep up appearances.”

Her expression darkened into… interest? Anger? It was so hard to tell.

She drew closer - that was unexpected. He rested his chin in his hands and watched as she sat back down at the water’s edge, studying him. Oh was he the subject of interest now?

“Are… are you saying you’re not divine?” She ventured.

“What do you think?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. She had a curious gaze, wide and green. There was something… deep. She was staring at something deeper than the colors in his irises.

“Do you think I’m divine?” He asked again, something smug worming its way into his tone. His complexion was perfect, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors - even before he achieved demon hood he was the pinnacle of divine-human beauty. That always made it so easy to impress people. And as a demon? That had all been accentuated. Maybe if she looked close enough she’d see Muzan’s rankings hidden away.

“Answer honestly now,” he urged the woman through her silence.

“...No.” Such a nervous answer… all unexpected.

“No?” he echoed.

“I mean no disrespect -”

“None taken, though I wouldn’t echo that sentiment to some of my followers -”

“You… you don’t mind?”

“Not particularly.”

“How did you know?” she asked suddenly. “That I… didn’t…”

He smirked: “Buy it? Call it intuition.”

She hummed at that, studying him intensely. What was she looking for… what did she see there? He wanted to ask her but was also morbidly fascinated with the child in her lap splashing in the water without a care in the world.

“You’re alright with me staying… even if I…”

“Of course,” Douma shrugged. “You have a beautiful voice and seem to be a good person. The people here enjoy you and that is all I care about.”

“Really?” That almost sounded like a challenge.

He nodded, mindlessly swirling the water with one of his nails. It was fun to make the surface freeze just a little bit. The cold melting away before one could notice.

“Well… thank you.” The tone caught him off guard. He looked at the woman and grappled with his confusion.

“What?”

“Thank you,” she repeated. “For being kind.”

He blinked.

Kind? What part of this was kind? No part of him was kind. Well, maybe to a human he carried a level of benevolence - Hantengu certainly wouldn’t have approved of being insulted. Oh, and Muzan would’ve killed the woman immediately for daring to insinuate he was anything other than perfection. But Hantengu was obnoxious and Muzan never had an eye for aesthetics. Gyokko would understand it -

Or not, he’d probably just eat the woman and kill the kid. He’d never been one for exploring interesting avenues. Artists had their flaws and Gyokko’s was his lack of curiosity.

“Tired already?” Kotoha’s voice chuckled. The upper moon glanced over and found Inosuke starting to doze in his mother’s arms. Was that usual, he wondered; for children to sleep so close to their mothers?

“Seems so,” the demon hummed.

“I have to take him back, but thank you… gracious one,” Kotoha murmured. She stood and smiled at him with… something. Something! What was that expression? What did it mean?

He was so fascinated by it.

“Whatever for?” he dared to taunt.

“For surprising me.”

Then she left. She left and he sat there staring at where she’d been in… what was that? Confusion? Amusement?

Slowly he reached up and ran a hand over his chest. There was discomfort there… a… a strange sort of twisting. What… was that? Had he been poisoned? No, he’d eaten more than a week ago, any poisons in the human’s blood steam should’ve been worked out seconds after consuming them.

For surprising her?

How had he surprised her? What did that mean? He was so curious but also utterly… lost. She was meant to be fascinating to him, not the other way around. He was not fascinating he was revered. Respected. Adored. Fawned over.

Something was happening to him, he wasn’t sure what it was but something was happening to him and she had done it. That was interesting - entertaining, even!

He’d keep her around until he figured it out. 

Chapter Text

Kotoha continued to be ever the confusing one. After their little pond-side chat she took it upon herself to sing more regularly in the evenings - much to the joy of her newfound friends. She sang many times over the next few weeks, smiling and laughing whenever someone asked her to do so. Each lullaby was different and brought a sense of peace to the temple. Each and every single one stirred something in Douma's chest - in the oddest way.

She was fascinating, more than that she was moving. She had people understanding how she felt and she… looked at Douma. She didn’t stare or gape or gawk or… no, she just looked. She smiled, sometimes. Their eyes would meet and she’d give him a small smile - a smirk, even. What did that mean? What was it supposed to mean?

With a startling epiphany, Douma realized he was feeling. Her sad songs rested heavily on his chest with a startling discomfort and her joyful ones warmed him. Odd. Oh, it was all so odd - but so fascinating!

The demon paced restlessly in his room during the night, trying to understand why it was he was now... feeling things. He couldn't understand what had changed or what made Kotoha's songs any different from any other song, but he knew that they were different... he just couldn't understand if that was a good or bad thing. Feelings... Feelings. What did this mean?

Eventually, he began to seek her out. Not… obviously, but he dared to become more invested in this little mortal than he usually did. Luckily, it seemed most of his followers shared his interest. He could make an offhanded mention about seeing Inosuke crawl and one of his followers would happily update him on the duo. So he learned much about his new ‘devotees’ through… well… gossip.

It was quite the change from his usual apathy towards the cult’s gossip but he found himself leaning into conversations whenever Kotoha's name was mentioned. He was strangely invested in it. Inosuke was barely older than a year. Kotoha was at the mere age of twenty and had been married years ago. Everything else was a mess of opinions and heated whispers that he strained to make out over the usual prayers. And it was… impactful, in the strangest way.

He had overheard someone mentioning the state she had been in when she had entered the temple - her weariness and the bruising and something in him had twisted. He had stumbled, surprised by the sudden warm stab in his heart. Odd. So odd. It was as if the notion had somehow translated a new sort of pain to him. Somehow the idea of such brutalization had him growing hot. She was such a pleasant human - everyone agreed that she was kind and helpful and doting to her boy. All desirable traits, he supposed. How very odd that she’d been treated so poorly: completely illogical.

The burning-twisting thing was strange, though, and he didn’t like it. Anger… one of his cultists supplied. Kotoha’s story, apparently, invoked rage. It made others furious, not at her, but for her - and always behind her back. How strange, and needlessly complicated.

But… their descriptions did match up with his own… feeling. Did - did the thought make him angry? How preposterous, he’d butchered several thousand people. There was no conceivable way one little human’s sob story could make him angry…

Feelings didn’t listen to logic apparently, so Douma was left to dislike it. He was not a fan of feeling angry… At all.

He wasn’t sure he was a fan of feeling at all. Though it wasn’t all unpleasant.

That warm-tingling-pleasant sensation he had whenever Kotoha sang her lullabies was happiness. It was… probably the most enjoyable sensation he’d experienced. Better than being full or being satisfied, it was just… enjoying something. He was almost jealous that humans got to experience such an emotion so readily.

But these human things were messy.

Sometimes, he liked it, and sometimes... he wondered if pulling the twisting thing out of his chest would be a better decision. Sometimes, he debated whether or not he should even keep Kotoha alive seeing as her singing was so... impactful. Maybe he could just avoid her singing and he'd get better. His head could clear. Yes, he just would stop listening when she sang. There: problem solved. He’d always been skilled at zoning out when he needed to.

Or... not.

It was just… so hard. He liked experiencing her performance and he liked those brief moments when they talked. She was just so… odd. Not… not in any noticeable way but just in how she treated him. Everyone else basked in her presence as he did, but those passing smiles were different than all her other ones. Like there was some secret they shared, and maybe in her mind there was. She did not buy into his divinity and he supposed he’d reinforced that.

“So… how did this all… start?” she dared to ask him one day. The lotus garden had become an impromptu meeting space. Sometimes they met there, sometimes they didn’t. It was a random thing from both sides which made it all the more… off.

“This all?” he echoed.

“This,” she waved at the walls around them, her words hardly louder than a whisper. “What made you start this?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he mused. “This was my parent’s work - I simply continue it for my own sake.”

“Your… parents?” she pried.

Such a dangerous thing, human curiosity could be. But she always did it so… earnestly. No ulterior motives just… curiosity. Not entirely unlike his own pryings. As long as she didn’t stick her nose into his eating habits he supposed he could satiate some of those ponderings, as she did for him.

“Yes,” he put on a familiar performance. “When I was born, they were so enraptured with my eyes that they were certain I was a gift from the gods. They built this haven to worship me.”

“Since you were born?”

“Indeed.” What an odd tone for her to take, she sounded… stressed. Worried? Mortified??

“They worshipped you as a child?”

“Obviously.”

“Were you… did you have friends? Did you… could you leave?”

“Why would I?” he had to chuckle at her audacity. “I had all I could want, right here. They gave me tutors, ensured I was cared for - they ensured my future by building these walls.”

“Well… forgive me for this but… that doesn’t sound like much of a childhood.”

He glanced over and found her staring at him with… something. Heavens she was so frustrating to decipher.

“I don’t think I needed much of a childhood,” he mused.

“Everyone does. I don’t mean to be insulting -”

“You’re not.”

“Well…” she pulled Inosuke’s hair out of his face. The boy was sleeping in her arms again, clutching another river rock close to his face. “I just think that sounds very lonely.”

Lonely…

What an odd notion. Not… incorrect, he supposed. Still, he’d never thought of it that way. He glanced at her again and found her smiling at him - it was such a strange smile. It was going to kill him, not actually, but it was beginning to get frustrating.

It was so warm and deep - as if he had found something in him that he recognized.

“I suppose it was… isolating?” he haphazardly guessed. “Though I don’t think I would’ve fit in with others anyway.”

“I think you fit in just fine,” Kotoha shrugged.

“As their god, of course -”

“And with me?” she posed and his purr caught in his throat.

That was… also… true. Their conversations were strangely easy - and she wasn’t forced to converse or respect him. She didn’t believe in any faux concepts of divinity.

Why… did she talk to him, actually?

Odd.

“I… don’t quite know what to make of you,” he supposed, honestly.

She laughed. She laughed. Why was that funny?

“If it helps,” she managed, muffling the last of her giggles: “I don’t know what to make of you either.”

It didn’t, but he supposed it counted for something.

But to digress Kotoha was an absolutely confounding presence in his life that was neither unpleasant nor annoying. Her son was in a similar place. The demon had always been impartial to younger humans - inexperienced was a better word, but fate seemed determined to shove them together.

One definitive day in their relationship, as Douma stayed inside, hidden from the sun's dangerous rays, Inosuke stumbled upon him on his lonesome. The baby crawled past the open door, looked inside, and found himself staring straight into the rainbow eyes of Douma.

The demon was sitting on the floor, pondering when his next meal should be, and looked right at the child. They stared for a very long moment.

Children were dangerous things to demons. The youth and the elderly often saw things that others did not. Children were always the first to deduce that there was something wrong and were always the first to discover a demon's true nature. It was surprising that Inosuke hadn't started balling.

Inosuke, ever the one to defy expectations, only stared at the man. He sat up and peered at the demon from the doorway. The baby was wearing a small grey kimono tied together with a blue sash that matched the blue tints on the end of the boy's hair.

"Hello," Douma grinned, plastering on fake happiness.

The boy tilted his head and let out a babble of incomprehensible words before rocking to his feet and toddling over. His movements were uneven but eventually, he reached Doma where he fell in the demon's lap, much to the demon's surprise. Inosuke was perfectly content to settle himself on the demon's crossed legs. He babbled a few more unintelligible words from his new seat.

"You're quite fearless," Douma praised, faking shock.

Inosuke looked up at him and giggled before reaching up for the loose ribbons that hung down from Douma's headdress.

"Don't you know, I could kill you?" Douma smiled sweetly raising his fans and opening them. That earned a gasp from Inosuke who eyed the fans with fascination. Inosuke forgot the ribbons and instead made it his mission to touch the fans. He climbed to his feet and stepped on Douma's crossed legs to try and reach the fans.

"You're quite the foolish one," the demon observed raising his fans just out of the boy's reach. The boy cried out indignantly and puffed out his cheeks before sitting back down on Douma's lap and staring at the man.

"Aiantit!" the boy babbled pointing at the fan.

"What?" Douma asked.

"AI. ANT. IT" the boy babbled angrily.

"You want it?" Douma asked waving the fan in a little taunt. How wonderfully simple children were to toy with. Inosuke nodded eagerly and giggled. Douma folded, then lowered the fan interested to see what a child could want with such a thing. Inosuke grabbed it hungrily. The golden weapon made the child's face light up as he babbled all sorts of unknown words and looked at his reflection on the gilded surface.

"Don't you see I could kill you with this?" Douma asked holding up the other fan and bringing the blade close to the baby's neck. Inosuke put the fan that Douma had relinquished into his mouth and began to suck on it happily, oblivious to the fact that it was a weapon that could slice his mouth open.

"I suppose that's a no," Douma assumed. He removed the fan from Inosuk's neck and placed it on his side, watching with mild amusement as his other one became coated in baby spit.

"I wonder... do babies understand feelings when they first get them?" Douma pondered aloud.

Inosuke looked up at him, still innocently sucking on the fan which was now drenched. The child pulled the fan out of his mouth and laughed before dropping the golden weapon and standing on Douma's crossed legs once more. He reached for the ribbons hanging off Douma's headdress and finally grabbed one. He pulled with all of his might and the headdress came tumbling down, right onto the boy.

Douma's eyebrows raised as he waited for the child to start crying but to his surprise, infectious laughter reached his ears. The boy now lay in his lap, clinging to his headdress and giggling madly as he hugged it. Douma looked into the boy's eyes and when the audacious child laughed again, Douma felt something unquenchable burn in his chest. It tumbled and shifted through his being, seemingly reaching the very tips of his toes. The boy was so stupid and yet so strangely happy. It was beyond entertaining.

The boy giggled and Douma once again found something happening to his face. His cheeks pulled his lips up on their own accord, and he chuckled.

For a moment, he was stunned. He had laughed plenty of times but it had all been a laugh he had learned and perfected over the years. His laugh was beautiful, majestic, fake. The chuckle that had erupted from his throat was natural and strange to his ears... ugly and uneven… but it was real.

His chuckle only made the boy giggle even more as he hugged Douma's headdress. That made Douma chuckle again. It was a strange little cycle of laughter that made his chest tighten, not unpleasantly though.

"You and your mother... such strange things," Douma murmured pulling the bangs out of the boy's face as he’d seen Kotoha do.

Not a hint of fear in those green eyes. Not an ounce of reverence or respect. As if he was just…

"Inosuke!" someone called down the hall.

Inosuke perked up and sat up, still holding Douma's headdress: "Mama!"

"Inosuke!?" Kotoha called, "Where did you go?"

The woman passed the door and stood there mortified for a moment as she realized what had happened.

"Oh my god - I'm so sorry," she murmured covering her mouth and looking to Douma. She bowed immediately, though Douma knew very well she didn't truly believe his divinity. This was just a... mortified show of respect perhaps; "Please excuse me, Gracious One, I was letting Inosuke play while I helped in the kitchen. He must've run off - oh no - I'm so sorry for this intrusion."

"Sorry?" Douma questioned as he looked down at Inosuke. "There is nothing to apologize for. Inosuke and I were merely discussing the issue of emotions."

Kotoha straightened up and walked over before kneeling beside Douma, completely oblivious to the fact that she was sitting beside a killer. She dismissed the strange bloodstain on the top of his head as a cultish tradition just as she dismissed most of the outlandish things of her haven. It offered her safety - from what Douma could tell that was all that mattered to the woman.

"Issue of emotions?" Kotoha questioned, looking nervously between Douma and Inosuke.

"Yes," Douma nodded stroking the boy's hair. Inosuke had decided that Douma's headdress was a perfect thing to gnaw on and so had set off chewing on it. "They're just such strange and complicated things."

Kotoha smiled, perhaps there was some relief hidden there when she saw how gentle Douma was being. Then, she nodded, "They are, indeed."

"Kotoha," Douma had spoken her name before his mind had time to process why. He looked over at her and found her looking right back at him expectantly.

"Yes, Gracious One?" Kotoha asked.

"Please," the demon murmured, "Call me Douma."

His logic was starting to leave him and, for the life (or...death?) of him, Douma couldn't understand why he had told her such.

"Douma," Kotoha echoed. For some reason, the way she said his name made another feeling twist in the kizuki's chest, and he couldn't place it.

"Yes... Kotoha... I was wondering if you would mind singing to me," Douma asked simply.

"Sing?" Kotoha murmured. She seemed embarrassed, for some reason, but she acquiesced. "What? Now? Are you - I mean, of course, what would you like?"

"I want something... something... emotional," Douma murmured, looking down at Inosuke who was responsible for covering the top of his headdress in drool. First his fan, now his headdress. This baby was slowly claiming all of Douma's possessions.

"Emotional... hmmm," Kotoha murmured, pondering the request.

"Not something too ridiculous... something... moving I suppose," Douma elaborated with a subtle wave of his hand. “Whatever you’re in the mood for.”

Kotoha smiled and nodded, still tainted with a bright shy blush, "Yes... I think I know a song."

She opened her mouth and began to sing. It was another soft lullaby-like song and yet again, Douma lost the meaning of it along with the words and only listened to the tune and the sound of Kotoha's voice. She was looking at Inosuke - again, Douma tried to look between her and the child to understand what it was she kept seeing in the boy's face.

The song was full of regret and perhaps pain. Douma couldn't place it but the song was unusually sad for Kotoha's repertoire and yet it was tragically beautiful. At one point, Kotoha's voice cracked and Doua looked back over to her and realized she was crying. Her eyes were closed as if fully immersed in her song as tears streamed down her face. Did she not realize she was crying? Douma supposed not. He listened intently, allowing the feelings within him to ride the melody that echoed through his room.

When the song ended, Kotoha looked at Douma and her eyes widened.

"Gracious - uh - Douma! Are you alright?" Kotoha asked worriedly.

"What? Why - yes. What's wrong?" the demon snapped out of his trance and looked into her beautiful soft eyes, which were full of a strange emotion - Douma would later place it as 'concern'.

"You're crying," Kotoha murmured reaching out to touch his face. She stopped, likely realizing what she was doing, and forced her hands back to her lap. Douma reached up and touched his face to find that she was telling the truth. He was crying... the feeling in his chest was twisting so viciously that it was almost painful and he hadn't even realized that it had made him cry.

He… cried??

"I suppose I am," the demon breathed looking at the wet residue on his fingers with morbid fascination. He was crying. He could cry. He'd never actually cried before! He'd taught himself how but not like this! He was almost excited. He could cry - you could cry without meaning to!?

Kotoha looked apologetic.

"Kotoha," Douma asked near eagerly, "What was that song?"

Kotoha fidgeted for a moment before responding, "It was what my mother sang to me."

The demon's eyes narrowed, "Then why is it so..."

"Sad?" Kotoha offered with a dry laugh.

Once again, a chuckle resounded out of Douma's chest, surprising the upper moon. "Yes... sad is a good word."

Kotoha shifted with a sigh.

"It wasn't a sad song when Mother sang it to me. But, I can't find the tune happy anymore."

"Why?" Douma asked tilting his head. The idea of a song being happy, and then not, was even more confounding than the strange occurrence of tears.

"Oh... well...I was taught that family was everything," Kotoha murmured clenching her hands, "And yet, once I left my family... I never saw them. They never came by to check on me or my son. They never came to see if I was alright. The song now seems more of an insult than a comfort."

"Interesting... the lies of the song translated to the lies of your family," the demon pondered trying to put two and two together; "And so that… translated to the tune?"

That made sense. Human memories led to human emotions and those in turn fed into the songs they sang. Well… it didn’t make sense but it was explainable.

"I suppose so," Kotoha smiled, her voice was laced with another surprising emotion. Douma thought it was something like sadness or perhaps anger or spite.

"Forgive me," he murmured, "I'm afraid I'm rather new at this emotional thing, but... you seem angry?"

Kotoha seemed to come to that same realization. She smiled again and let out a small laugh, "Yes, you're right. I suppose I am."

"How odd. At what?" Douma asked, curiously. “Your family?”

There was a moment of silence broken only by Inosuke's muffled babbles as he continued to chew on the headdress.

"No," Kotoha murmured finally, "More... at the path fate put me on."

"Fate," Douma pondered. What a strange concept.

"Yes. But... I probably shouldn't be so angry. Fate brought me Inosuke, and what more can I ask for?"

At her words, Inosuke giggled a bit before going back to chewing on Douma's headdress.

"Perhaps an Inosuke with a little less drool," he offered, serious in his words.

Kotoha, however, burst into laughter and her face lit up in such a wonderful way that Douma's face too curled into a smile.

"Perhaps," Kotoha giggled as they sat there together, hidden from the sun, smiling at one another.

Inosuke looked up from his gnawing and cooed at the sight of his mother laughing; it was a laugh the babe had never heard before from his mother.

Chapter Text

Months passed and the two shared a level of… cohabitation? It was more than that but Douma lacked the words to describe it. Kotoha was just… pleasant. He enjoyed her company - the way she could just derail his every expectation.

They spoke of past pains and current struggles. She had plenty of opinions about how to improve the cult and he was lacking human insights. She was deceptively good at making him laugh (which was apparently a sort of uncontrollable reaction). Once, during a prayer, one of his particularly loud devotees had sung praise for twenty minutes and it had been fine until he’d met Kotoha’s gaze. 

It was impossible that she saw he was bored. He was the picture of divinity and interest up on his throne… and yet somehow she knew. Their eyes met and she rolled her eyes . It was playful - mocking in an amusing way. So much conveyed in a simple movement and he’d almost laughed . 

He guised it under a cough, which still concerned his cultists, but in his defense, something about it had been disarmingly amusing. He couldn’t even explain it!

She was deceptively observant, recognizing his emotions before he did.

“I can ask Tsu to tone down the presentation ceremonies.” She’d make some offer of the like and he’d frown.

“Why?”

“Do you… like them?” she’d asked incredulously as if the alternative surprised her. Which… how? He always smiled and nodded and did all he was supposed to!

How did she know ?

“I find them… repetitive.” He’d finally admit it and she’d grin as if that was a victory.

“What if I told you Tsu does too?”

It was no surprise when he elevated her to… well Eternal Paradise didn’t have ranks but he supposed she was a sort of right-hand. A consultant? A top entertainer? She came and went as she pleased but she took precedence over his usual repertoire of prayers and praises.

She still sang, for the community, and sometimes for him - always for Inosuke though. She played a sort of liaison between him and the cult, it seemed his followers were happy to talk to her and for some incomprehensible reason she was happy to talk to him.

Eventually, and painfully, he gathered that she believed they had some shared kinship. That was preposterous, a human woman sharing any likeness to him was so utterly idiotic he failed to comprehend how she came to that conclusion. But, telling her such would definitely kill those gentle talks they shared later at night in the gardens or in the halls - and he… enjoyed those.

He enjoyed… a lot about her. Inosuke too, in a way. The child was just so… blank. A clean slate that loved to eat and laugh and cause all sorts of mischief in a way he supposed children were supposed to do.

One time he plucked him off the floor before the child could eat a stick of incense and wondered who decided to leave such offerings on the floor. Then he was thrust back into a plethora of memories that were borderline unpleasant of his own childhood with numerous thuribles burning low to the ground or offering plates within reach.

He found himself wondering if he’d ever burned himself. Had he ever crawled? It seemed as if one day he just… stood up from his padded cushion and had been tended to ever since.

Perhaps… Kotoha was not completely unfounded when she critiqued his upbringing. Inosuke seemed far more typical than he had been. Wild, destructive, and yet disarmingly charming.

“You’re manipulative in your own way, I suppose,” he accused the boy in his arms lightly. The child wasn’t picky about who held him, as long as they respected when he wanted to get down.

The baby was trying to eat the ribbons of his hairdresser again, for the hundredth time. He’d actually had to replace them… stranger still he hadn’t minded. The ribbons had the boy wanting to stay longer and there was something to admire in such a little human. His heart beat so fast but his laughs were so… honest. He was such an honest little thing, even when he was trying to trick an adult into giving him a snack - blind to the dangers of the world, obviously, as he leaned on a demon's chest.

It would be pathetic if it wasn’t so endearing when the child leaned on his shoulder and fell asleep. Babies, he decided, were odd but pleasant things.

Or maybe it was just Inosuke. He and his mother were… they were doing something to him. They had to be.

Douma found it harder to eat. Every human he killed suddenly tasted... different. Each and every woman began to remind Douma of Kotoha and that made something foreign in his stomach twist so viciously that he felt he may be sick.

For a while, he thought he was dying. That was a foolish thought he dismissed; demons don't just... die.

Right?

He slowly began to feel as though there was some weight in his chest, pressing down on him every moment. He didn't know what it was or how to make it go away. It worsened whenever he was away from Kotoha and became nearly unbearable when he feasted.

The only time that weight left him was when Douma was around Inosuke and Kotoha... especially Kotoha. She’d said their friendship was a good one… and while the notion of Upper Two being friends with a human was moronic, he did like how the phrase rolled off his tongue.

Yes. They were… friends.

Sometimes he wondered why the woman was still alive and why he hadn't eaten her. It was always a fleeting thought that was paired with a vicious gnashing of some emotion he had yet to name.

He told himself it was her voice... yes; it was her voice and gorgeous looks that prevented her from dying. She was pleasant and useful and pleasing and he valued such things in a human. Even as he recited the reasoning, he knew it all was a lie. The thought of killing and eating her or her son made the weight in his chest ten times worse. It was like being stabbed in the chest, no, it was worse than being stabbed. He knew the feeling of being stabbed, this was an interior pain for which there was no cure or regeneration. 

Demon Slayer swords hurt less than this did. He would know.

He couldn't understand and finally, unable to bear it, he questioned Kotoha about it. She seemed to have these 'emotions' figured out. She could probably fix him.

"It sounds like you're feeling guilty about something," Kotoha pondered, putting a finger on her chin. They were sitting in one of the outdoor gardens one night as Inosuke ran around chasing the last of the summer fireflies.

"Guilt?" Douma wondered looking up at the starry sky. "Hmm... perhaps."

Guilt? That was a strange notion. The great Douma, the left hand of Muzan Kibutsuji, the god who'd taken human flesh, the Gracious One, the infallible and unbeatable Douma... feeling guilty ?

For what?

"That's how it feels for me at least," Kotoha continued. She smiled as she watched Inosuke fall into the grass only to jump to his feet and angrily continue his pursuit of the glowing bugs. Douma felt another chuckle in his throat at the sight. 

She continued: "Whenever I feel bad about something, it feels like I'm ten times heavier - like someone's forcing all of the air out of my lungs. My heart falls into my stomach and everything just feels... terrible."

"Guilt..." Douma murmured, considering her words. What was he feeling guilty about? If he was indeed feeling guilt.

"As for the stabbing in your heart," Kotoha breathed, "That sounds as though you're afraid... or you may be… hurt."

He didn’t much like the way she looked at him. It was akin to sadness but… distant. As if she was sad about something. Confounding creature his friend was - he’d almost given up trying to understand her.

Besides she was wrong about this.

Douma didn't know much about emotion but he didn't think the stabbing in his chest was something like fear... it was different, and he had no reason to fear anything. He was Upper Moon Two, the third strongest being on earth, bested only by Muzan himself and Kokushibo. He had nothing to fear.

"Mama! Mama!" Inosuke cried toddling up to his mother with his hands clamped around something. He slowly opened them showing his mother the cricket in his palm. The cricket, happy to be free, bounded out of Insouke's hands and disappeared into the grass. Inosuke puffed out his cheeks and stomped his feet angrily as he looked for the escapee.

"That's okay," Kotoha assured her son, picking him up and placing him on her lap, "The cricket wants to be free, you should let him go and be free."

"No! I no ant-oo," Inosuke objected in baby gibberish that Douma had actually begun to understand. It was an odd sort of language that made more sense the more you heard it.

"Well, what you want doesn't matter this time," Kotoha explained softly. "The cricket wants to go so who are you to make him stay?"

Inosuke huffed and scowled before spying another firefly and taking off after it. Kotoha giggled as he went and her eyes gleamed. Douma found himself… staring.

Under the moon, she was the image of perfection, and Douma did not say that lightly. He'd seen perfection, he knew what to look for - Muzan had taught him what to look for. Her dark blue hair glowed as the silver beams danced off her. Those eyes shone like strange jewels of dew on the grass. Her face was as soft as it had always been and her smile was its usual bright self but for some reason, it all seemed so much more gorgeous at that moment. Douma watched her, recognizing each of these things as he studied her.

She was perfect in a way he hadn't understood before he gained these pesky… emotions. She was happy, currently, he could see that much. The contentedness was painted on her serene expression like a gilded wash.

He’d also come to find that emotions made you partial to… imperfections. Douma had seen Muzan take many different forms, each one infallible in its physique or structure. Kotoha wasn't physically perfect. She had stray strands of hair that stuck into the air when the humidity increased. She had splotches and faded freckles on her collarbones and the edges of her cheeks that had grown darker in the summer months. She had a chipped tooth that was just barely noticeable except for when she smiled so very wide. All of those were very clear imperfections, yet... Douma knew those things made her a perfect form of Kotoha. How strange.

 Suddenly, something in his chest suddenly made him speak before he had time to think.

"You're very beautiful," he observed, and if he had any sense he would've slapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

Instead, he looked into the garden and blinked as his thoughts churned: what an odd thing to say. It was true but he had no reason to say it.

She was blushing - that was a new expression. He… liked it: "Thank you Douma. You're quite handsome yourself."

He smiled politely, used to such words - and still in shock that he had just complimented a human. So… blatantly too. What was wrong with him?

"I honestly love your hair," Kotoha admitted sheepishly.

That caught Douma by surprise. It was usually his eyes that were the first to be complimented.

"My... hair?" This woman and her surprised

"Yes," Kotoha nodded eagerly . Her eyes were glued on his head which seemed to glow silver in the moonlight. "Sometimes it looks golden blonde and sometimes it's... it's like a brilliant silver. It's always so bright and unruly! It’s nothing at all like that serious face you put on: It makes me happy!"

"My hair makes you happy?" Douma asked, deadpanning as he tried to decipher that .

Kotoha began to rub her head furiously, her face turning a brilliant shade of red. Douma could almost see the steam of embarrassment pouring from her ears.

"I-I mean, yes! Is that weird? That's sort of weird. I just..." she took a deep breath and composed herself. "I just love how it sticks out in all sorts of directions and how it swings and bounces when you walk. It's just pretty. I didn't mean it in a bad way-"

Douma suddenly laughed - a real laugh. He would've stopped in shock but it felt so natural, it seemed a crime to cut his laugh short. This laugh was rough, ugly, imperfect... but it was real. She kept doing this to him.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Douma smiled after he had finished his short bout of laughter. His hair made her happy. That was strange and so strangely wonderful and her embarrassment had been nothing short of... cute.

Kotoha was beaming: “That was a real laugh.”

He found his smile real too… weaker though, as he looked away. She just… saw him. Knew him. She had called him superficial, his every act some grand masquerade but unlike anyone he’d known she’d taken it upon herself to tear apart every mask until she found something earnest.

It was so… odd. So disarming.

He found himself hoping she never found his true self. Maybe she could just keep reinventing whoever he felt he was now. He… liked who he was now. With her. 

Suddenly, a cool wind blew through the courtyard, almost blowing Douma's headdress off of his head. A shiver went down Kotoha's spine and she smiled.

"I suppose winter's coming," she murmured, looking away from Douma for just a moment to stare at the horizon over the garden wall.

"I would guess so," the demon nodded. He looked at her and noticed that she looked cold in only her grey kimono. The temperature didn't affect him but it likely affected her. That made every step that happened logical, in his opinion. He easily lifted his ceremonial black cloak off of his shoulders and draped it over Kotoha. His followers knew better than to question him by now, and they’d all gone to bed as they usually did.

"O-oh, thank you," Kotoha murmured, her face turning red again - it was strangely warming for Douma to see her cheeks wearing that soft shade of pink. "But aren't you cold?"

"Cold?" Douma asked. "No, I'm quite used to the cooler temperatures." You grew used to the cold when ice flowed through your blood and soul. If anything it was comforting.

The two of them sat there for a while. Douma looked up at the stars and tried to understand once again what he was feeling. At some point, Inosuke had gotten tired and had climbed into his lap, yawning and gurgling some unintelligible words before falling asleep in the demon's crisscrossed legs. Fearless and oblivious as always, that little child. But then, a few minutes later, a strange weight suddenly settled on Douma's shoulder, and when he looked over he found Kotoha sleeping, resting on his shoulder.

He couldn’t quite call her oblivious. Too trusting, always . He could kill her, probably should , but he never would. Oh, how certain he was of that in such a moment. It all became so clear with them so close. It was like the sunset, a peaceful moment that rested his confusion and emotions, blanketing him in comforting warmth.

Douma looked down to the baby who was on the brink of snoring, drool dripping out of his lips and threatening to touch Douma's pants. The demon only smiled the warmth within spreading to his chest as he listened to the two breathe. 

They trusted him. More than the adoring fanatics or loyal followers. He was just a human to them and they trusted him. Why was that worth more?

"You two..." he breathed brushing Inosuke's bangs out of his face and glancing at Kotoha's peaceful expression. "What are you doing to me?"

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The unraveling of Upper Two had only begun. Muzan called him for a mission to the north - kill a collection of demon slayers who were being a nuisance. It was obnoxious but familiar. Douma took the chance to feast. Then, as a treat, he was ambushed on the road by some would-be thieves. He enjoyed their corpses too; he had been terribly hungry. They didn't taste as sweet as his cultists but they also didn't make his stomach twist as terribly as it did.

He'd only been gone a week, enjoying the peace and the blood on his tongue, but it seemed the moment he left hell released another demon in his territory. He returned to the warm candlelight of his cult and was not two seconds through the door before he was immediately greeted by a frantic cultist.

"Gracious One!" the woman cried thankfully bowing low to Douma. She should be at dinner - that was when he’d planned to make his entrance but he supposed being ambushed by the door was par for the course.

"Amaie," Douma greeted with a fake smile, "What is it?"

"We received two new joiners in the temple," Amaie explained, her voice shaking.

"Oh, wonderful."

"Gracious One," Amaie cried, her voice trembling terribly. Douma stopped and looked back at the girl. "It's Kotoha's husband..."

Something in Douma's chest suddenly seized. The strange sensation made him bite back a gasp as a strange sort of snap shuddered through his being. What a terrible sort of feeling - he would have to dissect it later.

"Oh?" was all he managed to say without dropping his mask of happiness.

"They came a few days ago, Kotoha's husband and his mother. They're looking for her, Gracious One, she's terrified and hasn't left her room!" the girl was frantic and tears were in her eyes.

Strange... how humans could so easily feel emotions for others. Douma knew that Amaie wasn't too close to Kotoha, they couldn't have been much more than acquaintances, and yet here this girl was on the brink of tears for Kotoha.

There was something almost admirable about it. Douma wouldn't have thought so a few months ago, but now was a different time. He was a different demon. He almost wished he had that same gift. It certainly would make deciphering emotions easier - because what was ribbing through his ribs? It felt… eager.

"Is she alright?" Douma asked.

"I don't know," Amaie shook, "She won't step a foot out of her room and she keeps Inosuke with her at all times. We've all been trying to keep the two away from her and Inosuke but... but they're stubborn! I’m so sorry for the intrusion on your meditative time -"

"I will deal with this," Douma assured the girl as his eyes darted down the hall. The lights of the temple were burning bright and the halls were quiet. “Go to dinner. I will be there shortly.”

"Thank you. I… I’ll prepare your place," Amaie breathed bowing to Douma again as he took his leave.

The demon slipped into the temple, trying to stay unseen by his followers. He didn’t have time for distractions, or so said the hunger in his heart (where hunger had never been before); he had somewhere to be. He strode over to where Kotoha was staying and with a bit of his demonic speed and the blessing of long legs he got there within the next minute.

An unfamiliar scent wafted into his nose causing that hunger to howl at the smell of bad breath mixed with a hidden tone of alcohol.

The wing Kotoha was staying in was a smaller one, familiar as he’d walked these halls with the woman more times than he could count. They were usually so quiet and peaceful, the occasional cultist bowing or laughing from their rooms. It was very different now. The halls echoed with shouting, splitting through his usual serenity. Another emotion flooded through Doumaand , he identified it rather quickly; anger. 

He’d expected to find Kotoha - not this .

A sneer made his lip curl exposing his fangs as he approached Kotoha's room, spying a man who stirred something in his blood. He didn’t have time to reflect on that feeling’s nature.

A man was hammering on the wooden door. He reminded Douma of a weasel with the body of a rectangle. He was a man comprised of angels and anger. Angles were so easy for Douma's fans to catch on, and anger would make his blood curdle on Douma's tongue. He could so easily be ripped apart.

Oddly enough those murderous desires were back without the stabbing in his chest. But… there wasn’t the usual pleasure at the idea of eating. Odd… but not odd enough to question currently.

He was a little busy  trying not to stain his clean hallways.

"Kotoha!" the human yelled into the door as Douma silently approached, opening his fans. "Kotoha, I know you're in there."

Oh. Douma would enjoy killing this one.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kotoha was huddled on the opposite end of the room watching the door fearfully as she clutched Inosuke to her chest. She was shaking and Inosuke recognized it.

"Mama?" he asked, tilting his head. He was wrapped in blankets and his emerald eyes were wide as they looked up at his mother.

Kotoha looked down at Inosuke and forced herself to smile even though tears of terror were threatening to burst from her eyes, "It's okay... It's okay."

"Kotoha! You bitch, let me in!" that monster demanded on the other side of the door, banging on it once again. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm her frantic breathing wishing it would all just go away. The knife in her hand shook and she clenched it all the same. It was all she had if he... if he...

The cultists would take him away soon. They'd demand he leave her room alone. She just had to wait... just a little longer. He couldn't break the door. He couldn't break the door. He can't break the door. 

She’d fight but she wouldn’t win - she’d never win. Why, why did he come back? How did he find her? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone !?

A sob broke out of her throat and she hugged her baby boy even tighter, the knife’s tip gleaming in the glow of her tainted haven.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"You can't fucking hide from me, you bitch!" the man yelled trying to force the door open. It gave just the slightest bit and a grin broke on his face. Suddenly, a firm hand was placed on his shoulder and a cold voice made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"Please do not harass my followers," Douma asked, sweetly. 

The man whirled around and looked up at the demon before him. Douma knew many things about himself. He knew he was tall, which seemed to matter when it came to annoying mortals. He knew that he held an air of superiority, and all his life he’d known that he seemed otherworldly. It all culminated as he leaned closer and relished the smell of a man's fear. Strange. He’d never much cared for the smell of fear before - and never from a man. Maybe just from this man. 

The kanji over his pupils seemed to jump out as his colored eyes danced in rage. His smile was curled in a way so that it was impossible to miss his huge fangs that stood in his gums. His long blue fingernails were wrapped around his golden fans that gleamed dangerously.

"My wife is in there," the man explained, "She ran away, you see, after she attacked me and stole my son from me!"

"Oh my," Douma cried, faking shock and swallowing venom. "How terrible!"

"I just want my son back!" 

"Ah," Douma nodded. "I shall have to discuss that with the woman herself. But first, I suggest we go to the dining hall."

"I've waited months to find my son and that bitch, and I'm not waiting any lo-" 

Douma snapped his fan shut.

"Oh dear, you seem to have misunderstood me." Interestingly enough, pretending to have emotions was much harder when you truly had them. There was such a burning inferno in Douma's chest that wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around the man's throat and squeeze until his head popped off. It was impossible to swallow that emotion because the visual was just too appealing.

Perhaps the man (Douma refused to give him a name - he refused to give this human anything akin to a placeholder . This sack of flesh ) recognized the danger in the demon's voice because he took a small step back. Maybe he saw the way Douma's fingers longed to dig into his neck. Maybe he saw the eagerness in Douma's teeth to sink into his jugular and rip . Maybe he saw the eagerness of a predator in the way the demon stood. Either way, he retreated a precious step back.

Good.

"See, I suggested that we should go to the dining hall. What I really meant was for you to leave now while I tend to my follower," Douma instructed, his tone slowly changing from its fake sweetness to his anger that was threatening to erupt. He hoped his voice danced with all the wonderful ways he was envisioning killing this bag of flesh.

His eyes were practically gleaming in anger, the kanji in them dancing unnaturally. It was so… hard to control himself. Why? He’d always excelled at it. It all got so complicated when it came to Kotoha...

"Alright," the man nodded, trying to sound unafraid even though his knees were trembling.

"Go," Douma ordered - he almost had to whisper it lest he lunge instead.

The man turned and walked away, clearly trying to escape with an air of dignity while still putting as much distance as he could between him and the demon.

Douma waited until he was certain that the weasel of a man was gone and all that was left was his disgusting scent. Then, he looked to the door and knocked softly.

"Kotoha?" he called gingerly. 

Something settled in the wake of his rage… something… delicate. Aching.

The door unlocked after a moment and the door slid open exposing the fearful woman who looked around nervously. Her face was etched with terror and her usual soft emerald eyes were hard in a mix of fear and resolve. She was shaking so viciously that Douma was worried she might collapse. In her one arm, she held Inosuke who was unnaturally still and silent as he watched his mother. How strangely terrible that it was now for Inosuke to stay silent.

She had a knife in her hand, he noticed. Her knuckles were white around the kitchen item. 

"Thank you," she murmured unable to look the demon in his eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry?" the words almost caught in Douma's throat as he gazed at the woman. The emotions in his chest were a turbulent mess of anger and another burning, piercing feeling.

Why were they all coming at once? Why couldn't emotions just take turns? Annoying~ he had bigger issues to deal with than his own mess of chest-feels.

"I brought them here... I - " Kotoha shook clutching Inosuke.

"No," Douma soothed his hand coming up and touching her face. She flinched making Douma retract and sending a rush of anger through the Upper Moon. The unquenchable rage made him want to commit murder and twist that bastard of a man until he begged for mercy. He'd never minded when humans flinched away from his touch because it was understandable , he had deserved it. He still deserved it. But it was different with Kotoha - everything was different with Kotoha. "There is no fault to be had.”

For anything . She couldn't do anything worth blame. Not to Douma. Strange... she almost seemed more perfect than Muzan at this moment.

No . No, he couldn't think that - that was practically begging to die a traitor's death. Muzan was perfect, infallible...

But... perhaps... so was Kotoha...

"But - " Kotoha shook, tears spilling from her eyes.

Douma placed his hand on her cheek, not pulling away when she instinctively tensed. He brushed the tears off of her face and gazed at her. He would be gentle, he would never make her flinch - he would make sure she never had another reason to flinch. Not from him. 

He was certain of that. More so than he'd ever been.

"Of all the people who could apologize for your misfortune, you are not one of them," he tried to smile. She was infallible to him. Truly and totally, without question.

And he’d gazed upon perfection plenty.

Kotoha began to sob and held Inosuke closer, tears running down her face in a river and falling on Inosuke's cheeks. The baby only looked at her, confused and concerned. His lip began to tremble and he whimpered.

So the boy did know fear, just not for Douma. Why was that such a gutting thought? 

"I'm sorry," she whimpered looking down at Inosuke, "I'm sorry."

She fell to her knees and Douma moved with her, a strange urge possessing his mind as his body acted without thought. Suddenly, his arms wrapped around the woman and he pressed his forehead against hers.

Contact . What was a strange notion, and yet with her in his arms, Douma felt whole. So long his contact had only come from reverence touched or cold corpses and yet ever since she'd been here he'd been able to touch and hold a living, breathing person. It was in contact that Douma found himself to be nearly as infallible as Kotoha.

"You do not have to be afraid," Douma vowed, trying to do everything in his power to hold her gently. Kotoha looked up at him, her pupils growing large as her large tears slowed. Perhaps he was being too obvious; his tone was too reverent, his hold too possessive; he was on his knees for god's sake.

Something was screeching from his blood that this was ridiculous, a much louder voice in his chest was too certain to listen.

"He will never hurt you or Inosuke ever again, I swear to you I will not let that happen," he promised, gazing into Kotoha's eyes. Kotoha began crying again, but this time they were tears of gratefulness (Douma hoped so at least). She leaned into the demon's chest and sobbed into the space where his heart should be as his arms wrapped around her. 

Never… never had he seen her cry like this. A few tears or a wet gaze from old memories but never like this . It was awful. Disarming but also… oh it burned in him. It set something aflame that riled and roared and climbed up his chest like a hungered beast.

"I'm sorry," he heard her tremble again. Inosuke babbled between them, chubby hands grabbing at Douma's linens.

"Don't be sorry," Douma soothed, holding her closer.

Never. Never. Never you’re perfect . The emotion of anger burned in his chest and made his eyes dance in fury guaranteed it. Someone had to pay. Something had to be done.

And he had so many options.

It took only a few moments for Kotoha to compose herself and as she leaned away and wiped her eyes Douma made a startling realization. He knew that smile. That mask. She wiped her eyes until they were try and rubbed her face until her emotions were buried.

She smiled at him. It was fake.

He hated it. Oh, he understood it all now.  They were similar... and that realization was terrifying.

"I'm sorry..." Kotoha sighed ruefully as she pulled her hair back, Inosuke still content in her lap. “I’m sure this is the last thing you wanted to deal with after a week of traveling -”

 "None of that now. Let's go to dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Douma smiled, putting on his normal fake smile. Dinner was for Kotoha...

He would eat later.

Chapter Text

They entered the dining hall together, so close they may as well have been touching shoulders. He was greeted with a reduced amount of fanfare. His followers stood, bowed, welcomed him back, sang his praise - the usual. They also minded his space, distracted by other matters, it seemed. 

Douma saw Kotoha's husband before she did. The weasel was sitting in the corner of the room, the picture of poorly-repressed anger. He glared at everyone who passed and didn’t seem to know how to hide any of his emotions. An old woman sat by his side - his mother, Douma assumed. The old woman matched her son's scowling face and the crone looked ready to bite the head off of any poor soul who came near. It was obvious that the duo was given a wide berth by the other cultists, secluded in their little corner. Unsurprising, even a human would recognize their stench.

His followers were also terrible at hiding their opinions. A few stared openly at the duo, scowling. Ohhh, the wonders of an open-door policy paired with a no-violence order…

Maybe Douma should’ve made an exclusionary clause for exes and mother-in-laws. Could divine beings make additional clauses to heavenly-mandated rules? Probably…

The mother saw Kotoha first, her gaze latching like a constrictor snake as the cult began to settle down and allow their gracious one to take his place. Douma rather obviously switched sides with Kotoha, who was prattling on about changing the seating arrangements as she tried very firmly to ignore the glares on her shoulder.

Douma had no such qualms and stared at his newfound “followers” with an empty, pleasant smile. The poor things tried to glare at him and Douma almost laughed at their audacity. Maybe they saw something in his gaze because they suddenly looked away, unable to glare at him any longer. Unfortunately, that meant Kotoha was the subject of their gaze, and that just wouldn't do at all.

He felt Kotoha tense as she dared a glimpse at the two at the worst possible time. She was drawn up tight like a bowstring, holding Inosuke just a little firmer. Her husband stood up and seemed ready to storm over. Douma dared him to and, for the second time that day, the human made a smart decision and retreated, backing down into his seat. Several other followers did the same - funny… they’d mirrored him. Hmm, perhaps his followers were a bit more adept at this whole business than he’d expected. My, my, had he fostered a cult capable of murder?

Intriguing.

Douma only gave Kotoha's shoulder a reassuring grip and he thought he felt her shoulders relax as they grew closer together.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered to her leading her towards his grand chair. "This is my domain, he can not harm you here unless, of course, he has a death wish."

Douma almost hoped he had a death wish. Then again - perhaps it wouldn't do well to have Inosuke witness decapitation at his age. He also wasn't willing to test Kotoha's friendship with grandeur actions of extreme grotesque violence. It just didn't seem conducive to long-lasting friendships. Though... circumstances being what they were Douma wasn't ready to clear the option from the table.

Kotoha took a deep breath and stared at the floor as she walked beside Douma. The Upper Moon walked up to his chair, covered in comfortable pillows, and grabbed two before placing them on the ground. He led Kotoha to one and sat down on the other, right beside her in a perfectly absurd display.

He knew no one would dare question it, not when he’d so kindly returned from his ‘week of prayer’.

A few cultists noticed and they all smiled. A few giggled at the sight and began their usual gossip. One man gave Kotoha a thumbs up which made her blush in the very slightest despite the circumstances. Odd, as ever. Inosuke, seeing his mother smile, let out a huge screech of happiness earning a laugh from a few cultists as they ate and brought a smile to Douma's face.

Ah, he really didn't give the humans he surrounded himself with credit. They were all kinder to Kotoha than he could ever be.

A meal was brought for Kotoha but, as expected, she hardly touched it. Instead, her every moment was focused on feeding Inosuke who seemed to hate everything except shrimp tempura. Douma could respect the boy's pickiness, he had been the same with his meals not too long ago. Too quickly, the boy got tired of the slow rate he was being gifted small bits of shrimp and proceeded to snatch and stuff an entire shrimp into his mouth before giggling at his mother's horrified expression. Somehow, Inosuke didn't choke but that didn't keep Kotoha from scolding him gently. As she ranted, Douma let his eyes wander upwards and rest on her once-husband.

Such a meager little human, capable of so much strife. How annoying .

The human was fuming at the distance between them. His mother placed a hand on his arm but she too glared at Kotoha as if she was trying to plant daggers in the woman's back. Douma instinctively leaned into Kotoha and relished her scent as he hid what he could from their gazes. He almost forgot about them for a moment as he breathed in her presence. It was like a meadow, natural; she smelled like the woods and the river after a rain. She must've taken Inosuke for a walk before all hell broke loose.

"They're glaring at me, aren't they?" Kotoha murmured as she fed Inosuke.

"Uh... no, in fact, most of them are grinning at you," Douma whispered in her ear looking to his followers who just wouldn't stop giggling . Why were they laughing? What was comical about this situation? What did they know?

Kotoha gave a small smile.

“Your jokes are getting better.”

"Oh... you meant those two," Douma realized, looking back up. He met the gaze of Kotoha's husband who seemed to be trying to kill Douma with a look. Ha, good try but even if the man did have a sword he'd be dead before he could draw it.

"No... actually, it's me Weasel-Bastard is glaring at," Douma observed.

His nickname for her husband made Kotoha snort and then giggle uncontrollably which made something in Douma glow. He wasn't sure how she'd react to the blatant disrespect of her previous engagement but seeing as it made her laugh he was happy to continue doing so.

"He does look a bit like a weasel," she admitted softly - like she was afraid she'd be condemned for it.

"Moor Mama!" Inosuke pleaded, breaking out of his blankets and, reaching for the tempura.

"You need your vegetables too," Kotoha scolded putting the chopsticks down and rearranging Inosuke in her lap.

"I no like vetabal!" Inosuke denied.

"They're good for you."

"NO!"

The argument of vegetables and no vegetables went on for a while with neither side giving in until Inosuke shrieked in unhappiness and threw the assorted greens across the room. A few people laughed fondly, some mumbling how they agreed with Inosuke's view of veggies while Kotoha reprimanded her boy.

Douma pondered for a moment and then snapped his fingers in a realization. He actually did have experience with this, at least. He’d watched Muzan’s pet wife do something similar years ago with her toddler and while he’d been a little busy trying to appease Muzan’s horrendous temper the visual had been somewhat amusing.

Maybe it would work on Inosuke.

"May I give it a try?" Douma asked. Kotoha smiled and gave him the chopsticks. Douma plucked a bit of mushroom off of Kotoha's plate and taunted the little manipulative Inosuke.

He would learn true deception today.

Inosuke gazed at the demon and looked skeptically at the food on the chopstick. Douma only waved it further out of his reach - Inosuke was so easily distracted by anything that moved.

"Here comes the bird, flying into the nest!" Douma grinned waving the chopsticks playfully. Inosuke's eyes widened as the food approached and he eagerly opened his mouth and chomped down on the mushroom, munching happily afterward.

Kotoha gasped in disbelief.

And Douma? He had never felt so victorious. Akaza could go jump off a cliff at this point, Upper Three would never understand or feel the jubilation that came with victoriously feeding a child vegetables. Never. Kokushibo too. Neither of them could hold a candle to this victory, Douma was certain. This was arguably the greatest victory he’d ever had - definitely the only one that had him smiling earnestly.

Kotoha giggled and Douma beamed as Inosuke clapped his hands excitedly and demanded an encore.

“See, two can play at manipulator,” Douma teased as Inosuke’s demands grew frustrated. “You want more ?”

“YA!”

Most of the cultists watched the interaction and gossiped to one another fervently and happily about how cute the two looked. Others, especially those close to Kotoha, watched Kotoha's husband and mother-in-law carefully, ready to jump to her defense in case something happened.

Douma listened and watched all, almost hoping that the weasel-man and his crone of a mother would do something. Wishing for them to give him a reason to use his golden fans that seemed to be humming in his hand, desperate for blood. Kotoha seemed to be trying to push their presence out of her mind and she focused solely on Inosuke, something that Douma guessed she had done when she lived with that man. But every now and again, they'd touch and Douma would watch all of the fear drain from Kotoha's eyes as her face changed color. Those were the best moments when Douma knew he'd already won the unfought battle with the bastard in the back.

That man and his mother had no control over her now. She did not have to hide here - she had control here, not them. A wrong move on their part would make Douma's day. Hers too.

Of course, he did need to figure out what to do with them…quickly.

Eventually, the dinner ended and everyone began picking up and preparing to settle down to bed. Douma stood up and offered Kotoha his hand once her meal had been taken. The first order of business was getting her out of collateral’s way. He was barraged with greetings from the cultists and kept Kotoha close by putting an arm around her shoulder and slowly leading her down the hallway. Inosuke had begun to fuss, insistent that someone other than his mother hold him which Douma was all too happy to take advantage of. A second Inosuke victory in the same day - oh absence truly made the heart grow fonder. Well… either that or Inosuke had just missed Douma's headdress ribbons.

The room was much emptier with many people retiring to bed - perhaps that was why the two grew strangely bolder. They followed, quickly, weaving through the scores of people and jogging to catch.

"Hey!"

Kotoha tensed at the familiar voice and Douma's anger flared again. The demon turned around with a smile and pulled Kotoha closer to him as the Weasel-bastard-fucker approached. He got it now. He understood it now. He finally got why Akaza was so angry all the time if these were the types of people he was eating.

Maybe this was why Akaza couldn’t help but respond with violence .

"Why hello, what can I help you with?" Douma asked sweetly, so sweetly in fact that the man almost flinched.

"That's my son," Weasel-man snarled jabbing a finger at Inosuke who was still trying to reach for Douma's headdress ribbons.

"Your son?" Douma pondered looking at Inosuke as if he was considering it. "That's strange... Kotoha... didn't you say this was your son?"

Kotoha looked at Douma fearfully, until she saw that playful glint in his eye she apparently knew so well. She almost smiled. Almost.

"Yes... Gracious One," she nodded, relieved, but there was still a quiver to her voice. It was so odd on her.

"Oh dear," Douma sighed as he looked back at the waste of oxygen. "Now, usually I would believe you, but I have yet to meet a man who has given birth to a child. Therefore, I have to believe that the child is Kotoha's."

With that, Douma smiled innocently and went to turn around.

"That's my wife," Weasel-man snarled pointing to Kotoha.

Kotoha almost began trembling, something catching in her throat as she tried to speak up. The words died in her throat, it seemed. 

"Your wife?" Douma almost sounded mortified but there was no color on his face or emotion in his eyes.

Not in front of Kotoha. He couldn’t kill him in front of Kotoha.

"Yes!" Weasel-man shouted. He didn't notice the cultists watching him carefully, ready to jump in if needed. His mother did.

"I assure you, sir, that must be impossible," Douma smiled at the man, almost too pleasantly. "See, Kotoha here is quite small and very gentle. You said your wife attacked you, you've told others she did it without warning. Now, I know Kotoha to be quite level-headed, and never once have I seen her resort to violence needlessly. I find it quite out of character, don't you?"

"You probably think you're fucking funny, don't you?" Weasel-man demanded.

"Now hold on," Douma grinned because yes, in a sick way, he did think this was funny.

“ You attacked me .” They all looked over as Kotoha stood a bit firmer. Her voice was trembling but her glare was… enrapturing.

“She was in a terrible state when she arrived,” Douma concurred. “And long have I wondered who was responsible -”

"I don't know what happened to her after she kidnapped my son!" Weasel-man objected.

"So, you deny any knowledge of Kotoha's terrible treatment?" Douma asked, tilting his head innocently despite the hatred in his eyes. "I find that very unlikely."

Kotoha could run, he tried to make that clear. He released her shoulder and took a step toward the people that made her quiver. If she didn't want to be here, she could leave. She could run and if they chased after her Douma would relish their screams. But she took a step forward with him... she grabbed his hand. She glared at the two flesh bags and Douma would swear on his immortal life that she seemed braver than any demon slayer choosing to stand up against him.

"I never laid a hand on her!" Weasel-man denied.

"Well then you can't be her husband," Douma concluded with a fake laugh, squeezing Kotoha's hand and hoping he wouldn't have to rip away to commit a murder. "If you never laid a hand on her then you couldn't be her husband and this couldn't be your son. And if you did - then they are still no longer yours ."

Douma was still beaming but his eyes held a sort of danger. It took everything he had to keep smiling, to keep himself beside Kotoha. He wondered how she looked… how she felt…

His emotions were burning so clearly but… perhaps hers were messier. 

Kotoha's mother-in-law came forward and sent a nasty glare at Kotoha which almost lost her the dark eyes in her sockets.

"Dear, why do you spread these - these lies about your husband? He's done nothing but provide for you and care for you as any husband should. This is how you repay him?"  

“You know that’s not true -” Kotoha began, almost pleading. “You know -”

“You two were such a happy couple. Such a sweet couple, and now you’ve run off and taken your son to a cult !? What would your mother think?”

Kotoha shied away, looking down. Douma did the opposite; he leaned forward, looking at that wrinkled mess of flesh folds and liver stains in the eyes and relishing in how she backed away fearfully.

"Oh dear," he feinted horror as he straightened up and put a hand on his heart. "Dear sir, I beg of you not to panic, but the thing to your left just spoke."

The mother-in-law’s jaw dropped oh-so-satisfyingly. Both Weasel-man and Kotoha gawked at Douma's blatant disrespect. Kotoha though, covered her mouth to hide a smile. He knew her by now - that was a look of amusement.

"You should respect your - " the crone began, and before 'elders' could slip from her lips the demon grinned and shut her up with a look.

"Now if you don't mind, I really must be going and I'm sure Kotoha needs to put Inosuke to sleep. I wish you goodnight!" Douma smiled turning around and calmly leading Kotoha away from the two who were sputtering with rage much to Douma's newfound satisfaction.

Of all the new emotions, smug satisfaction was likely one of his favorites. Oh it just made him feel so lively -

He saw Kotoha risk a glance over her shoulder, and he just barely turned his head to do the same; They both saw the glares that chased after them. Kotoha drew herself closer to Douma and looked down... and she smiled . Inosuke, who was peering over Kotoha's shoulder had caught one of Douma's ribbons and was chewing on it happily. He looked at the two angry people staring after his mother and proceeded to be oblivious to it, instead, focusing all of his efforts on chewing on Douma's headdress ribbon.

“You can’t just -”

Weasel-man strode forward angrily, his face red as a beet but was stopped by a burly, tall cultist. Tsu was his name if Douma remembered correctly. Yes, the man and his husband had been chased out of town for their marriage and now they both stood over Weasel-man with rage in their eyes.

"The Gracious One must retire to bed now, I must ask that you not disturb him," Tsu explained standing in Weasel-flesh-bags's way. He needed to come up with a better nickname for the fuck.

"That's my wife!" Weasel-man objected.

"Is it now?" Tsu asked dangerously, "If that's the case, then I know plenty of people who would like to thank you for her kind treatment."

Weasel-man took stock of the situation and then noticed the group of cultists watching him. All of them had been clearing tables and had weapons ranging from chopsticks to entire frying pans. All of them were glaring at him and his mother. All of them shared the same rage that their leader had - and their leader had just made his position very clear.

Kotoha would stay.

"Not now," his crone of a mother spat grabbing his wrist, "Later... we'll settle this later."

"I'm gonna kill that bastard," Weasel-man spat angrily looking around the burly Tsu and staring at Douma's back. "YOU HEAR ME! YOU WHORE! I'M GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING SMUG BASTARD AND THEN WHO'LL DEFEND YOU!? BITCH!"

Tsu yelled something and others did too but it hardly shut the bastard up.

The man continued yelling and Kotoha edged closer to the demon whose veins were boiling fury. It was so powerful he thought he may have been growing warmer as his anger grew.

"Kotoha," he soothed looking down at the woman who looked as though she was trying not to cry.

"Yes?" she asked looking up at Douma.

"For... precautionary reasons... how would you like to rest in my quarters for now?" Douma asked gently. A familiar blush tinted her cheeks and she seemed flustered. "They're the most well-guarded," he assured her, and they were, for obvious reasons.

"Y-you really don't have to. Inosuke wakes up often a-and I'd hate to be a burden," she began nervously.

"You are not a burden," Douma assured her, "I will ask a few of my followers to bring me another mat and perhaps a few more blankets for Inosuke. Besides, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much after my travels."

He was not risking that bastard trying to break down her door in the early mornings. The very thought made him wonder how slowly you could kill someone.

Kotoha looked down before murmuring a quiet; "Thank you."

Douma could feel her shaking in his arm and he gripped her shoulder, trying to assure her that it would be alright.

She would be alright.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

She still had the knife on her.

He noticed it as he arranged his new linens on the floor. It was purely performative - he hadn’t slept in his room in… ever, but for the sake of appearances he supposed it was important to set up a place to sleep. He’d offered to take a different room but that seemed to horrify Kotoha more than invading his space.

She still had the knife, in her sleeve.

“Were you going to kill him?” The question just sort of rolled out of him before he had time to think. It was just… an odd image. Not far-fetched he supposed.

Kotoha stood up from her own bed-arranging startled: “What?”

“The knife,” Douma elaborated with a lazy wave of his hand. “Were you going to kill him?”

“No. No, no, no,” She denied it so quickly. “It was just - if he broke down the door I… I took it from the kitchens for protection. I wasn’t going to -”

“I mean I would hardly blame you.”

She didn’t respond immediately, tucking Inosuke in before pulling the small knife out of her sleeve. She stared at it for a moment, turning it over in the candlelight.

Douma sat down and found himself wondering… wondering and wondering and…

“Do you want to kill him?”

Kotoha looked up and that wasn’t horror . It wasn’t eagerness either. Maybe it was fear but not at his offer… at least he didn’t think it was. It was something set and firm but trembling all the same.

“I…” she fought for words, her eyes landing on Inosuke: “I don’t know…”

“That sounds like a no -”

“I just want him to disappear,” Kotoha managed. “I wish he’d just leave and never come back. I don’t want - I just don’t want anything to do with him and I wish… I wish…No matter where I go or what I go he’s always going to be there. I’m… I’m always going to be afraid. I can’t leave - I can’t do anything .”

She sighed and sat, pulling at the sheets. He tried to sit still and calm the fury in his blood, but every time he looked over at Kotoha a new icy pain clutched his heart.

“I will dismiss them, in the morning,” he supposed. “It’s rare, but we have forced followers out -”

“They’ll only come back. He always comes back.”

“Perhaps,” he hummed.

Perhaps he would just kill them on the road - far away from Kotoha’s observations.

She was crying again, softly. 

“Do not blame yourself,” he tried.

“I blame him ,” she hissed vehemently. “I - I…”

As if it burned she dropped the knife beside her pillow and pulled at her hair.

“I hate him. And… and yes I… I would’ve.”

Douma watched, and he wondered, but he said nothing. Kotoha didn’t either. She lay in her bed, and he did so in his - neither sparing another word as the hours ticked by. She did fall asleep eventually, but all the demon could do was stare at the ceiling and… ponder.

He should just kill them. Logically that made sense. There was just the worrisome notion that Kotoha would know . She knew so much and could always just tell .

But, doing nothing was like letting a rat gnaw at his ribs. Obnoxious .

Early in the morning, only mere hours after midnight, Douma stood up from his cot and looked over to where Kotoha was resting. She had refused to let Inosuke sleep alone and was sleeping peacefully beside him. Inosuke had a frown on his face and was kicking his blankets off as he dreamt. Kotoha also had her brow furrowed as her eyelids danced - she too was dreaming, although Douma had a terrible feeling that she wasn't dreaming about anything pleasant.

Slowly, he walked over and pulled a few of her bangs out of her face. Something in his stomach was burning and it was much stronger than his hunger.

"I'll be back soon," he promised her. He couldn't explain the strange thing in his heart or why he was so furious but he was... and he wasn't going to fight it. He was hungry... for something other than the usual.

He pulled Inosuke's covers back onto the child and chuckled when the baby babbled something in his sleep and clenched the sheets with his small, fat hands. So small, so spirited - so weak. Rage bubbled in Douma's stomach as he imagined someone hurting something so small.

He had. He had hurt plenty like him - but it hadn't been Inosuke. It didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, Douma supposed hopelessly, but it mattered to him now.

Douma then silently left the room and turned to the expanse of the temple. He strode forward with the speed only a demon was capable of. His eyes burned and glowed with anger as the emotion in his chest festered with every passing moment.

There was a rhyme or reason to it, but still… a demon feeling such virulent emotions for a mere mortal. A weasel? A rat. A mortal who had harmed other humans: who had hurt Kotoha and Inosuke. Douma could feel a growl in his throat as he envisioned images he never wanted to see... strange... he had never shied away from horrors before, why now? Why when it came to them?

He took a pause in one of the larger gardens, looking over its dark shadows and trying to plan the perfect murder. He’d done plenty of imperfect ones… and then there was this annoying little twitch.

Did he… deserve to kill them? That was foolish, of course, he did. They annoyed him - angered him even. That was all it had ever taken to turn the fury of Upper Moon Two against you. All it would take was one teeny little move and it would all be over. Weasel dead. Problem solved. Kotoha safe.

It didn’t make sense. The guilt didn’t make sense. Why - why did he feel guilty ?

He ran his nails down a large river rock, craving thick crevices into it as he tried to reason it all. The anger he could get but the guilt ? The hesitation? Kotoha's husband and mother-in-law had been given a small home on the far side of the temple. Douma's cultists had put them there to keep them away from Kotoha. No one would hear their screams. It would be so easy !

So why wasn’t he going ?

He rubbed his face and cursed his confusion for the millionth time. Whatever was happening to him was making him soft. Terribly so - and half the time it didn’t make sense!

Half the time it felt like -

Oh? What was that?

Douma stood slowly, ears straining to make out footsteps on dewed grass. His cultists sometimes had similar sleep schedules to his own, but never did they sneak by the fences. Douma silently began to follow, and it didn’t take long to identify the stench.

The anger began to rot into something… satisfied .

He smiled.

The demon mirrored the intruder on the other side of the large fence, pausing as they did, and grinning as the fool began to try and scale the fence. He would give it to the man, Kotoha’s husband was nothing if not determined. Stupid, but determined.

The demon was on the other side of the fence faster than a mortal could see, standing behind the little rat. He watched with with a sadistic level of pleasure as the man tried to pull himself up the large fence, a large knife held between his teeth.

“Plan to kill me while I sleep?” Douma taunted

Shock. Fear. Anger. Panic .

It was rather nice being able to identify the emotions as they flashed in the fool's eyes. Being snatched off a fence and dragged by the throat could be so disarming to a human but Douma had never had the chance to truly understand everything that likely went through someone’s skull.

“You -” the man cried in shock from under Douma’s nails.

“Me.” He smiled.

It seemed his mind was made up then, another moth, another flame; another human between his teeth.

“I would admire your audacity,” Douma supposed as he dragged the man back to that distant corner house, choking any screams out of him. “But I’m not in the mood to admire.”

The weasel couldn’t get any words out other than the beginnings of questions. His sick anger began to die into fear. He couldn’t break out of the grip. His knife was long gone. He was being lifted as if he weighed nothing more than a child. He was helpless.

Douma wondered what was going through his head. He wondered what thoughts fed that delicious fear he saw.

He kicked the door down to their quarters and heard the mother-in-law startle.

“What are you - “ Killing the old woman was simple, he accidentally did it too quickly and cursed himself with a grin painted on his face. The grin was fake, for some reason, nothing about this brought the usual bought of pleasure killing usually did. It all felt…

It felt necessary .

“Oh dear,” he supposed dryly as he stared at the stain of crimson. “That was quick.”

The demon dropped the weasel at his feet and watched him squirm.

“What - what did you - what are you! ?” 

A familiar scream.

Douma felt a laugh tug at his throat: “Something far more dangerous than you .” 

Kotoha's husband lasted only a few minutes longer. When the man begged for mercy Douma leaned in and smiled.

"Did Kotoha ever beg?" Douma asked softly. He knew the answer, Kotoha wasn't weak by any means but she was gentle and sweet... people like that would beg and plead at the end of it all… and the idea of that made Douma sick. Of all those he’d heard, he never wanted to hear her plead or beg...

This man had.

And he gave him a timid answer: "She… I guess?"

"And... did you show mercy when she did?" Douma smiled, his bloodied golden fans itched to sever this monster's ties to Kotoha. They itched and his blood boiled.

"I - I never went too far, please ."

The man's next words were shattered as Douma's hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed. There was no entertainment in how the human struggled like a fish out of water. Nothing was entertaining about it. Nothing.

How… strange…

"Did you show her mercy?" Douma hissed, leaning closer so he could make out every fascinating emotion dancing in those small dark eyes. “Don’t lie now…”

The silence was such a heavy answer. It almost brought Douma joy to see the man's hope shrivel and die. Almost.

“Well then,” the demon supposed.

The man's scream was cut short by a slice of a golden fan and a river of scarlet blood. Then, all was still and blessedly quiet. Tranquil as it so usually was.

Douma looked over the scarlet-bathed scene and took a breath, composing himself.

Interestingly, there was no temptation to eat or even the instinctual joy of food, instead, there was a calm relief. Never again. They’d never bother her again. He licked his lips and spat what blood touched his tongue. Disgusting creatures, they even tasted rotten.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Being unable to eat the corpses, for whatever reason, left him with the problem of disposing the bodies. Not to worry - he knew just the demon to rely on.

“Delivery,” Upper Two hummed as he dragged the corpses through the infinity fortress. Nakime was always so quick to respond and Gyokko was always hungry.

One of the many doors of the fortress slid open and a familiar pale face poked out.

“Oh, Douma ! How wonderful, what inspirations have you brought for me today?”

Gyokko was a familiar useful subordinate, or at least Douma had always considered him such. They’d shared interests once… now they just shared victims.

“Some blank canvases,” Douma supposed pleasantly enough as he tossed the two bodies before Upper Five. “I wasn’t fond of their taste, so perhaps you’ll find some use for them.”

“Pawning off your scraps on me!?” Gyokko cried.

“Is that a problem?” Douma fell into the usual routine easily enough. Smile wide and laugh lightly, lean in a bit too close, and make the threat clear. Danger. That was what he was and had almost always been. Danger. It felt odd now, like wearing the wrong clothes - or perhaps the wrong skin.

Gyokko shied away as he always had, fumbling about how the two may be of some use after all.

“Wonderful! Thanks so much, buddy!” Douma laughed as he left. 

“What’s the rush?” Gyokko demanded with a familiar lilt: “It’s been so long since we’ve compared artistry.”

“Afraid I haven’t been very artistic much of late.”

“A shame… oh - actually I did have a question!”

Douma stopped in the doorway and found himself having to fight to keep his composure. There was still a house to clean and his clothes to scrub and a million more things to do before Kotoha awoke.

He didn’t have time for this. But he would’ve used to . 

“What is it?” He turned with a broad smile, faux joy bubbling at his stitched seams.

“I was wondering when your next little culling would be,” Gyokko giggled. “I have some ideas for what to do!”

“Looking to leech off my meals, oh how cute ~”

“Not at all! Not at all! Well… okay maybe one …”

Douma raised an eyebrow, waving himself with his fan: “ Oh ?”

“I heard, up our lovely grapevine, that the cult’s taken in child,” Gyokko grinned. 

Nakime was spying then. Unsurprising but… it did something to Douma. It carved something out of him and placed a pit in his stomach.

Gyokko was still talking: “I think it’s a wonderful trade, seeing as you’re not a big fan of the stringy ones. You know how much I love using them as a base -”

The fan snapped shut and Gykko had lost four of his hands. The demon flinched as his superior stepped back into the room

“Oh dear,” Douma pouted, his eyes sparking with a familiar mania. “Sorry - a slip of the hand.”

“You - you could’ve just said no !” Gyokko whined, retreating back into his pot with a wail. “What’s got you so happy ! That hurt!”

Hah. Happy. What a notion.

Douma felt his gaze melt into a glare as he stared at the pot and the bodies before it. Slowly, one of Gyokko’s hands reached out from its pot and grabbed a hold of the bodies, pulling them closer and closer until they disappeared into the porcelain with a sickening ‘pop’.

Inosuke. He’d been talking about Inosuke . Inosuke in the place of those two bodies - in the place of the hundreds of bodies that had come before him… that little charming manipulator in Gyokko’s hands…

He needed to leave.

“Just a good night, I suppose,” Douma hummed, turning and leaving as fast as he arrived, his tone failing to match his glower. “Till next time buddy! Oh Nakime~”

A door opened to his left and led him back to his haven, closing that realm up as he stepped through. Immediately something seeped out of his being - why did he feel exhausted ?

And… angered?

He held his head and sighed. These emotions were getting annoying again. He had work to do.

He cleaned up the house quickly, taking a few minutes to scrub the blood off the walls and throw out anything bloodstained. He then turned to his clothes. It was a commonality now, and Douma was able to clean himself of blood in a reasonable time. It helped when you wore mostly black and red.

Two hours later, he walked back into his room absolved of his crimes and evidence. It was thankfully silent in the haven of his chambers. Kotoha and Inosuke still slumbered… mostly.

Inosuke was beginning to fuss and had kicked his covers off again. The boy slowly opened his large emerald eyes and was about to cry when Douma's strong hands gently removed him from his position and held him up. Inosuke looked at the demon and smiled sleepily.

"No crying," Douma instructed with a faux sternness. "We don't want your mother to wake up; she needs her rest."

The baby cooed at such a familiar face and settled into Douma's arms, the same arms that had just slaughtered two people without remorse. The demon began to gently bounce the child, as he had seen Kotoha do, and slowly Inosuke fell back asleep. There was a strange sort of wonder that emerged from Douma as he watched the child sleep. It had been a ridiculously long time since he had been able to sleep, being a demon and all, and he couldn't remember the last time he had dreamed.

What would Inosuke dream of? Crickets? Beetles? Perhaps they would be more meaningful. Perhaps he dreamed about his mother and her smiles. Were his dreams always happy or could they be terrifying?

The time went by quickly, Douma enjoyed the distraction of keeping the child asleep as it occupied his mind. It was surprisingly involved. Any wrong move would have the little thing stirring and whining.

Then, suddenly, Douma heard Kotoha's breathing grow short and hurried. Her heartbeat tripled in its rhythm, and with a gasp, she awoke. She looked over to where Inosuke had been and, realizing he was gone, she sat up fearfully and cried; "Inosuke!?"

That knife was in hand again.

"He's here," Douma assured her from the side of the room. 

That knife was turned on him. He blinked and she gasped. Tears were spilling from her emerald eyes once more as she quickly put the knife aside. 

“I’m - I’m so sorry -”

“What for?” Douma slowly approached, trying not to scare her. He sat down just a few feet away, offering the baby in his arms.

She would not be able to see in the dark, but Douma could make out every detail on her face: The trembling of her moonlit skin. That soft face twisted in haunted fear and those eyes were dark with memories.

"He was fussing," Douma explained softly looking down at the boy, "And I wanted you to sleep. I'm sorry if it startled you."

Kotoha reached over and brushed Inosuke's hair out of his closed eyes as if ensuring that he was real. She then let out a shaky breath and leaned back, biting her lips. She let him stay where he slumbered.

"What happened?" Douma asked gently.

Kotoha shook her head, "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Douma echoed unbelievingly. He pushed a bit of her hair behind her ear and met her gaze.

Kotoha bit her lip again and took a shaky breath as she looked into space. "H-he was here... he was - I... I tried to scream, but I couldn't a-and he said that he'd kill me once he was d- done an-and - and he was going to take Inosuke and..." her voice cracked and trembled as held her head in her hands. “It felt so real -”

Douma reached over and pulled her to his side. She was warm as all humans were but her warmth made something in Douma feel… whole.

"He will not get you and Inosuke is not going anywhere," Douma promised her, pressing his nose to the top of her head. 

"I know," Kotoha breathed shakily, she leaned into him, and with the next shaky breath she smiled; "I know."

Douma began to stroke her hair again, marveling at its softness. At everything with her as he so usually did.

"I know I'm safe," she murmured looking down to Inosuke who lay in Douma's other arm. "And I know Inosuke is too."

Douma smiled softly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"You've been nothing but kind to me," Kotoha shook as she rested on the demon. "And... and I can't repay you for any of it."

"Repay me?" Douma questioned incredulously; "What are you talking about?"

Kotoha laughed a little: "You're too benevolent... You welcomed Inosuke and me, you've given us everything we could've dreamed of, and... and you protected us even when it became dangerous to you."

Douma grinned a bit at the thought of him being in 'danger'.

"No Kotoha," Douma murmured, his eyes resting on Inosuke. "You misunderstand, I'm trying to repay you."

Kotoha slowly sat up with a puzzled expression on her face. Douma put a hand on her cheek and smiled.

"The time you’ve spent with me," Douma murmured. He took his hand off of her cheek and grabbed her hand before pulling into his chest. Could she feel it? The turbulence of emotions raging in his chest? The sign that he was different. "Don’t min the dramatics but I... you’ve made me realize something and I didn't know what it was for the longest time. Now I believe it’s happiness. Kotoha, you did something I didn't even think was possible - I am happy . Pathetic or not as that sounds, I… I can't ever do enough to repay that."

Kotoha stared at Douma with large eyes; there was a new sort of light in them as her nightmare was forgotten. She was beautiful in the dark and he wished he could show her. Her dark hair and ethereal eyes were something that Muzan could only ever dream of mimicking.

"Douma," Kotoha smiled as she pulled her hand away from his chest and grabbed his hand with both of hers. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time but... but I thought it would be rude a-and rather disrespectful, and you may... this may be terrible... but... I… I think I love you."

Douma looked at her, unsure of how to respond. Love? What was love? Was love the twisting burning feeling that was flaming in his chest and urging him to hold her and comfort her?

Kotoha's face was a blush pink and her eyes were on the cot as she nervously awaited an answer.

"You - you were always so kind to Inosuke. I didn't know men could... I didn't think anyone could... and you are so kind to me. You're sweet and funny and... and gentle and you understand things -" She was rambling now and Douma felt something pushing him to do something.

Douma released logic and instead acted based on the burning feeling in his chest which made him reach up, and put a hand back on Kotoha's cheek, it was stronger this time. He didn’t know what he wanted to do but he knew he wanted her close. She looked at him and something sparked in those eyes that made her sit up and kiss him.

Douma almost jumped back in shock as the warmth invaded his senses. He had enough sense to control himself and as her scent flooded his nose and instead let himself lean into it.

There was nothing but a certain sort of adoration in the motion. The kiss was a promise and an assurance. Kotoha was timid after the initial contact and Douma was unsure but the purpose was clear; whatever this was... it was…kind. Sweet as their touch. Soft as her eyes.

She beamed at him as they pulled away, making the fuzzy feeling in Douma's chest grow which made him feel lighter than air. It was a wonderful and strange feeling. Douma pressed his forehead to Kotoha, breathing in her familiar scent and forgetting all other thoughts than the ones that demanded the protection of the woman before him and her son in his arms. Oh had it always been this easy? To drop all concerns and thoughts to just wallow in this wonder.

"I am married," Kotoha murmured nervously, fearing that perhaps fact would deter him.

Douma only chuckled knowing full well that the fact no longer applied, "I’ve dismissed them.”

She blinked, leaning back.

“What?”

He blanched. Why did he say that?

“They won’t bother you anymore,” he answered honestly, but slowly.

She just stared at him, searching his gaze for something. He did not look away… what did she see… what did she know?

“Did you…” she began and he knew what she was going to ask. 

He looked away.

“Douma did you…”

“If I did?”

“ Did you?” She pressed. “Did you… kill them?”

There were a million and two reasons to lie. He looked at her and sighed.

“Yes.”

Wow. Why did he say that!?

She sat further back, gazing into space with… disbelief. Horror? He couldn’t tell. He reached over and lay Inosuke in her arms - probably for the best now as he was making every blunder possible.

The warmth was fading from his lips - his hands. She was drifting further away and he could not hold on to her. He cursed himself.

What was the point of all that cleanup if he was going to blurt out the truth!?

“Just… just like that?” Kotoha breathed.

“... Yes.”

She shook her head: “I don’t… why ?”

“He…” Oh well that was a complicated question and his emotions weren’t being very polite: “I did not want you to be afraid.”

That… that was it, right? The crux of the matter. The reason for it all. Kotoha was still staring at him.

“You can go where you like now, be whatever you want. It wasn’t right to see you… scared. It wasn’t… I didn’t…”

It sounded so awkward in the air like that. It may far more sense in his head. She was still staring at him. Oh, this was the end wasn’t it? This is where it all fell apart -

Kotoha leaned closer: “So… you would… you would be alright if I left?”

No. Douma frowned at the thought. Forcing her to stay didn’t feel any better though. That made him feel equally sick.

“If… you want…” he managed. “I can’t keep you here. I would… miss you, I suppose. I… I just did not want you to be scared anymore. It felt… wrong.”

She just kept staring at him ! What did she want? What was he supposed to do!?

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he managed, his mouth suddenly very dry. Maybe he should’ve eaten. “I… apologize. Good night.”

He stood, rather quickly. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go but it was better to be anywhere other than under her gaze. Heavens, it had all fallen apart so quickly.

“Stay.”

It was such a simple request that shook every thought and emotion to its core. He looked down at her. Shock didn’t begin to describe it.

“Stay,” she repeated. “Please.”

The request made something Douma soar as he settled back down and muttered what may have passed as an 'of course'. 

“You don’t frighten me,” she murmured, reaching out and taking his hand. “You don’t.”

“I probably should.” That was an understatement, actually, but he wasn’t going to be that honest.

“I do… have some questions,” she managed dryly. “But I also figure I probably shouldn’t ask.”

“I would… prefer you don’t,” he winced.

Why was he still being honest !? Had he just forgotten how to lie!? Did emotions do that !?

She ran a finger over his knuckles, thinking about something.

“Is this… have you killed people before?”

“... Yes.”

He was tempted to dig a claw into his chest and pull out whatever streak of honesty had him by the throat. She hummed at that, turning his hands over and studying his palms. Then she laughed.

“Always full of secrets,” she hummed.

“That doesn’t… bother you?”

She looked at him again - really looked at him: “You’ve never once frightened me.”

“Well - well, I’ve hardly confessed to killing someone . Have I?”

Was that why she seemed so unsurprised? Did she… know!?”

She just laughed: “And you call me strange.”

“You are!” he objected, somewhat affronted. He’d just confessed to murder and she was holding his hand!

She nodded, her laugh breaking into a mix of disbelief and something darker: “Maybe…”

“Are you… angry?”

“No.”

“Sad?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Nothing like that. I’m just… I’m surprised it's over so easily.”

Their eyes met and he barked out a chuckle. He could not believe her. Every time - every time . She surprised him every time.

“You’re such an odd one,” he managed.

“You are too.” She was holding his face again, cupping it in her hands as she shook her head. “But… thank you.”

Slowly, he reached up and met those hands, something dangerously wonderful pulling at his lips: “Thank you .”

They settled down with Inosuke between them as if they were some protective barrier for the child. Douma and Kotoha stared at each other for a few moments taking in one another's beauty before Kotoha closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

“I still love you,” she murmured softly. Certainly.

He smiled: “A questionable decision.”

She opened an eye and something warm sparked in her gaze: “Maybe.”

Not a hint of fear - not a hint! After a few minutes, she succeeded and Douma smiled to see a peaceful expression back on her soft face. Inosuke had also fallen into a deeper sleep which almost made Douma jealous.

They were both safe now, there was something about that fact that made Douma feel as though he could stride into the sunlight and remain untouched. The sudden disappearance of Kotoha's husband and mother-in-law would be dismissed as a cowardly move of the two to run away. Kotoha wouldn't have to dedicate another thought to the monsters and she would live peacefully.

He could protect that a little longer. Protect . He would protect a human.

Oh, his logic was screaming at him. Kotoha was merely mortal: she’d die in a few measly years. He… he could turn her into a demon but that thought was followed by the familiar stab of guilt. No; Douma couldn't do that for some reason... his emotions forbade it. She would lose her gentle smile if she was turned into a demon and that would hurt more than any demon slayer nichirin sword.

The logic warned about the inevitable, about what would happen when she found out he was a man-eating monster. Sure she took to these murders surprisingly well but surely she had a limit. Surely he was too far gone for someone as kind as her.

She was a human. It was supposed to be an inevitability that this whole… thing would end in blood; Her blood. Douma almost growled at himself and put a hand to his chest. He would not eat her. That he was certain of, he wouldn't let anything else happen to the woman... or her son.

Even if she did grow to hate him, even if she forsook him, he would protect her because she had made him feel and those feelings were the most confusing and wonderful things he had ever experienced.

Douma watched Kotoha and Inosuke sleep, gentle fondness filling the void made earlier by his boiling anger.

“I believe…” he murmured to the night. “I believe I love you too.”

Love. What a funny word for such a deep feeling.

Chapter Text

The months passed with surprising ease. Winter and spring came and went with their familiar joys and entertainments, one of which was Inosuke's first real snow. The boy had plunged into the cold substance with no fear and had laughed even as his fingers had turned blue and he shivered. He was immediately brought inside and warmed but that didn't stop the boy from trying to run back into the frigid weather.

It almost drove Douma mad as he failed to fathom how this child had no self-preservation instincts! He was a human - weren't humans supposed to have some sort of cowardice built in to keep them alive!? If so, then Inosuke got the short end of the stick. The boy seemed to think that near-death experiences were fun or something.

Winter came and went and somehow Inosuke survived it. Spring emerged in all its glory, filling the temple with outside activities as people celebrated the warming world.

The warmer weather also brought a reminder that Douma was not without responsibility.

Near the end of the Spring season, after the blossoms had all fallen and Inosuke had grown an inch or two, Douma found himself summoned to Muzan alongside Akaza. The two bowed before their master and listened as he ordered them to go take care of a collection of demon slayers who were staying in a town to the west so they could cause some sort of diversion for the demon lord.

Douma and Akaza obeyed, naturally, and killed the demon slayers easily enough. Then came the problem of witnesses, no one was supposed to know they existed and with twenty devoured corpses and an area soaked in blood, it was inevitable that someone noticed something... which meant that the little village had to go. It was simple work, the two demons stayed clear of each other for most of it. Akaza happily fought the warriors and men on his side of the town while Douma dealt with his side with no discrimination.

There was a new pain to it, Douma found and forced away. Every woman who screamed reminded him of Kotoha's cries of fear and every child made him think of Inosuke. Part of him screamed that the new emotions were making him weak and he pondered that for a while. Should he falter from his path, Muzan would definitely kill him, and if Muzan knew why he had gained emotion...

Douma ripped apart the shrieking woman in his claws and tried not to think. Quick. He'd make it quick. Yes... yes, he could be strong and show mercy. Then at least he wouldn't disobey. He could be merciful... Muzan would not be...

He shuddered to think of how merciless Muzan could be when it came to humans. No... No Muzan must never think he'd grown weak. He could not be weak. He killed and he killed trying not to think about how it made his stomach want to leap out of his throat and choke him with his own bile.

Akaza and Douma met up near the end of the town once the work was nearly done. As Douma walked up to the final house he found Akaza was waiting for him.

"What? You waited for me," Douma grinned, faking happiness. Akaza sneered and looked to the house behind him.

"It stinks of women, I'll leave it to you," Akaza snarled.

Douma looked at the rickety old house and slowly stepped inside. He heard rustling in the closet and threw it open.

He took a fearful step back.

The women - no, they were mere girls - in the closet were shaking, they were covered in bruises and whimpered when they saw Douma. The familiarity of their scared faces pierced Douma in his chest. They were young, sixteen... or eighteen? far too young to have those terrible bruises or such fearful eyes. It was like looking into Kohota's fearful eyes... back when...

"Douma?" Akaza questioned from the doorway, watching the Upper Moon's face in wonder. Douma looked... dare Akaza say it... he looked scared. That was wrong; Douma didn't feel anything, especially fear.

Douma slowly knelt and leaned towards the girls, his eyes gleaming with something that no one could read.

"Who did this to you?" Douma asked in a growl as he looked over the girls,

One of the girls slowly pointed to the roof with a shaky finger, "Th-they're u-up-st-upstairs," she quivered.

Douma nodded and then stood up. He stared at the girls and Akaza watched in wonder as the demon who months ago would've relished an opportunity to torment such easy prey disposed of the girls quickly. They didn't even have time to scream.

"What's up with you?" Akaza demanded as the higher rank stared at the carnage. Douma's blood-stained fans dripped with scarlet as the demon stayed perfectly still. Akaza could sense something pouring off the demon.

Something real and true; rage.

In a flash, the demon let out a frustrated scream as he ripped the closet door off its hinges and raced up the stairs. The guilt in Douma's heart seemed to rip him apart as he tore apart that damn house until he found the sick bastard responsible and made him suffer.

No survivors. No survivors. He forced himself to remember that over and over again. He had no choice, Muzan had ordered him to leave no survivors! No one must learn of the demon's existence! No one could tell the slayers what happened here! But those girl's eyes haunted him like lanterns in foglight. His claws tore through wood and doors alike, ripping skin and drawing blood as he took out his helplessness on whoever he could.

Akaza waited in the doorway, his brows knitted together as he listened to the terrified screams that echoed out of the house as Douma disposed of its owners. This was... unusual. Akaza was used to listening to hours of torment as Douma played with his food like the sick fucker he was. Upper Two hadn't even tasted those girls before he killed them. And Douma hated eating men, he said they tasted sour or something but by the sound of whatever was happening upstairs...

What the hell was happening?

When Douma emerged a few minutes later, his hands, chest, and chin covered in blood, Akaza watched him carefully. He tried to read the dark shadows under those bright eyes or the way the blood stained the demon's fangs.

"What was that about?" Akaza demanded as gestured to the carnage of the closet. "Not hungry?"

"Not tonight," Douma smiled innocently as his eyes avoided the scene. His expression shared nothing, not a thought or an emotion, but Akaza had a sneaking suspicion both those things were now knocking around in the upper rank's brain. Douma had never been easy to read and the fucker definitely wasn't now as they walked away from the town. Akaza's eyes narrowed and he watched the demon carefully. Douma looked to the north, where his temple lay, and nodded to himself.

"I suppose this is where we part ways," Akaza scowled to his fellow upper moon.

"Yes," Douma answered softly... there was a tint of... happiness? Akaza studied the demon carefully, mystified by the change in him. Douma looked at him, his fake smile plastered all over his face once more like a freakish doll. "Until next time close buddy! Be careful!"

With that, the demon took off leaving Akaza wondering what was going on. Douma hadn't done anything bad per se. They'd obeyed Muzan; they'd killed all they were supposed to. Akaza couldn't justify a reason to report Douma's mystifying change back to Muzan. It wasn't treason to suddenly change your ways... though seeing as Douma did it - perhaps it was tantamount to it.

Akaza shook his head and tried to come to grips with what he's seen. The rare - no, the nonexistent break in Douma's mask that had led him to kill in rage. When was the last time that had happened - Akaza could tell you; never. Never. Douma didn't feel emotion. He didn't feel vindicated or rageful or sorrowful or anything.

He didn't. He was a sick fuck who would be dead if Akaza ever got the opportunity. Douma didn't feel anything.

But, then what was that!?

Douma returned to the temple where he found his followers waiting for him. He greeted them all warmly but his heart soared when a familiar laugh reached his ears. He turned as he smelled her scent and found her standing, holding Inosuke in her arms. Kotoha was smiling, still wearing a simple kimono but still somehow appearing so inexplicably divine.

Douma wrapped his arms around her causing the maiden to blush. Inosuke babbled a few things and reached up for Douma's face. The toddler squished the demon's cheeks and giggled furiously making Douma feel was wonderful warmth burn through his deep-settling gut. He could almost forget the eyes that haunted him when he felt the warmth of the two lights in his life.

"I missed you," Kotoha murmured warmly.

"And I, you," Douma smiled once Inosuke released him. The Upper Moon then leaned down and kissed the woman earning a squeal from one of the cultists, Miki, who was, apparently, already secretly planning their wedding. Douma had learned to ignore many of his followers, but all of them seemed overjoyed at the prospect of their leader finding love and were even happier seeing that it was with someone as deserving of happiness as Kotoha.

Strange, how they were so accepting of their god falling in love.

"How was the week of prayer?" Kotoha asked. The question brought the familiar pierce of guilt to Douma's heart as the lie slipped off his tongue.

"It was uneventful," he answered. And the guilt multiplied when he thought of the girls... of the girls who had just been younger, broken pieces of his beloved. And he had slaughtered them. Worse... he was lying about it and he was lying to Kotoha.

What was he if not another hand in their pain? Another monster whose blood would taste wretched... rotten?

To these people, he was a connection to the heavens - that was a lie. To Kotoha, he was her love - a truth. To Kotoha, he was someone who would stay by her side and grow old with her in love - a lie. There were stacks of lies piled on small twigs of truths and the new emotion of guilt was piercing Douma with every lie, especially to Kotoha.

She was too trusting, too naive. She had full faith in Douma and so never questioned him as to where he went off or what he did. She'd told him softly, months ago, that she didn't think he was divine - but she thought him good and that was enough for her. He'd smiled back then and admitted he wasn't divine in the slightest - a truth... but not how she'd interpreted it. He hadn't been able to admit he wasn't good... but he lay still that night trying to steady his trembling heart.

"Why aren't you more inquisitive?" Douma asked her one night under the pale half-moon in the temple garden.

"What?" Kotoha asked.

"You never press for answers," Douma recognized, pondering the fact. "My habits aren't exactly typical - and yet you never...demand an explanation?"

"Do you ever 'demand an explanation' for my nightmares?" Kotoha asked, smiling up at the demon as she threw his words right back at him.

Douma was about to point out the difference but Kotoha continued.

"Or how about why I prefer sleeping closest to the door? Or why I sometimes frantically try and shush Inosuke for no reason. Why don't you demand an explanation for why I hate the sound of thunder or the smell of alcohol?"

Domua looked at her, puzzled. He didn't ask because he knew and if he had his way he would kill the bastard responsible for it a thousand times more.

"You understand that those things are just part of who I am," Kotoha murmured putting a hand on Douma. "You wouldn't be Douma without your mysteries. Your nocturnal habits, your quirky actions."

There was something true in that but Douma still half-wanted her to demand the truth from him. He wanted her to scowl and pry it from his corpse - find the truth in his empty ribcage. Hiding the truth felt like swallowing a monster that tore away at his organs and ripped at his bones.

"I trust you, Douma," Kotoha laughed in assurance. "Just as you trust me."

Her sentence was meant to soothe Douma but it only worsened the painful guilt that twisted in his chest.

"Thank you, Kotoha," Douma smiled softly looking at the woman who beamed at him. She looked over the garden and leaned on Douma's shoulder.

Inosuke's head popped out of a bush and he proudly hoisted up a beetle.

"Mama! Oma! ook!" he cried happily running up and showing off his catch.

"It's quite pretty," Kotoha applauded studying the bug.

"Pwetty," Inosuke repeated looking at the beetle that was glistening in the moonlight.

"Good catch," Douma chuckled.

Inosuke gave a toothy grin and placed the beetle on the ground before pointing at his mother. "Pwetty!" he announced. Kotoha grinned at her son.

"Thank you, Inosuke," she smiled with a small blush.

Inosuke then pointed to Douma, "Pwetty!"

Douma smiled and rubbed the boy's head. Inosuke giggled and toddled away repeating his 'pwetty' montage. Kotoha smiled and resumed her position of leaning on Douma, a sleepy but blissful expression dancing on her lips.

"He's growing up too fast," she sighed happily. "That's the third word he's learned this week."

There was a pang of sadness with that truth for Douma. Yes, Inosuke and Kotoha were growing older, but him? He wouldn't be able to follow. How long until they saw that? They'd notice - they would....

How long could he keep lying?

How long should he keep lying?

The answer came to him in the most unexpected form; Demon Slayers. They arrived at his doorstep needing shelter and medical attention as one of them was badly wounded. Douma listened to the gossip but made sure to stay far away, not willing to risk being exposed. Heaven forbid one of the slayers saw him and deduced what he was. Heaven forbid they tell their superiors.

Damn it all, what if they sent a hashira after him? What if he had to kill them? What could he do? He would have to kill them. Why could that thought make him want to rip out his own throat!?

He realized he was frightened.

He had no control over what those demon slayers said and if their knowledge of demons were to get back to Kotoha, would she put two and two together? Douma knew she would, she was a smart woman. Trusting, gentle, sweet, and smart. She knew he was odd, she knew him better than anyone else did. She knew to close the blinds before he walked into a room, she knew of his teeth and his peculiar eyes - not just their colors but their kanji.

Douma shook his head to clear his mind and sat in his room, trying to sort out his thoughts. It didn't work. It never worked. It wasn't thoughts he was trying to sort, it was emotions, and those were messy and refused to be sorted.

As the days went on he overheard the rumors flying around the temple. The demon slayers were comprised of three boys and two girls. One of the boys, who was about seventeen, had been badly wounded fighting a demon. The cultists knew nothing about demons and so were very intrigued about these children's hunt for strange blood-thirsty monsters. The rumors continued to soar and eventually, Douma heard the news he had feared - they were looking for him. The group came investigating possible demon activity in the area where they had run into a surprisingly strong demon who had caught them unawares a few miles away. The demon slayers had dragged their wounded comrades through the forest until they came upon the temple, completely unaware that they were staying in the wolf's den.

First and foremost - Douma went and dealt with the demon wandering the outskirts of his territory. He dealt with them swiftly. Such a fool. Such an incompetent stupid idiotic damn useless excuse for a demon. They'd led the demon slayers right to Douma, right to Kotoha. Damn them! Damn them to hell and back!

Then, he excused himself for being sick and decided to stay isolated until the slayers were gone.

As the days came and went, Kotoha too became involved in the demon slayers' recovery. She would return and tell Douma (who feinted sickness quite poorly he found) all about the strange children who all seemed too young to be fighting so viciously. She would often tie connections of them to Inosuke, saying that they were 'bold, just like little Inosuke' and had 'just such big hearts', which would make Douma's chest hurt in terrible guilt as the images of the demons slayers he had killed flashed in his mind.

They had all been children, hadn't they? Or sisters, or brothers, or mothers. They had all been Kotoha's and Inosuke's.

The girls in the closet that he slaughtered haunted him as those thoughts did. Every person, every living breathing person had been someone. Not just a human or a meal. Someone's Kotoha, someone's Inosuke, someone's love, child, sibling, parent, and he had killed them. Eyes and screams haunted him and one day as he hid in his room he looked up and swore, swore that he saw the girls in that damn closet staring at him from his own shadow.

He collapsed to his knees and screamed as his nails dug into the wood.

He had been given no choice they had to die. He had to kill them. He had to.

But the ones before hadn't. The meals before Kotoha. The humans before Inosuke. The dozens, hundreds, thousands? How many? How many haunted him?

He couldn't even count. He hadn't thought to...

Tears streamed down his face as all the screams of his past meals came to tear at his mind. So many people... so many people. So many lives and he'd taken them all without any remorse. Worse... worse he had mocked them, he took everything from them, he had thought himself better!!

Better!? Him!! He had thought that he, a lowly dog for a fucking demon had been worth more than any of those people. He had spent years thinking that he was powerful when he was nothing more than a walking corpse; a fucking puppet!

He wanted to be sick. He wanted to vomit and pull every damn piece of flesh out of his gut but it was too late. He could never take it back. The blood was on his hands, it was stained into his very existence.

He was a monster. He always had been and he'd always known it... but now... now he finally understood why that was such a tragedy.

The weeks the demon slayers spent recovering were some of the most painful weeks of Douma's life. He grappled with himself constantly, knowing that it was his duty as an upper moon to dispose of them but also knowing that he simply couldn't. Not only that. He wouldn't.

Never again. Never again would he spill blood. He would rather cut out his tongue than taste flesh again. The screams of those long gone would haunt him forever, as they should, but no more would join that cacophony. Not as long as he lived.

He couldn't kill anyone anymore - what kind of demon was he!? A darker side of him revolted against his epiphanies. No more death!? No more food!? Had he gone mad?! He would be slaughtered for this, if not by a competitor demon (Akaza came quickly to mind) then he would absolutely be ripped apart by Muzan.

He was being foolish... at least that's what a little nagging voice warned. A voice that sounded too much like Muzan.

The thoughts were almost maddening and they flew around in a discombobulated mess as they intertwined with his emotions. He tried to block them out but they were stuck in his head and he cursed them.

The 'snap' came when an old thought, one Douma had repressed with all of his energy, erupted to the front of his mind.

Why not just kill her and feast!?

The fact that he had considered it was enough of a sin to Douma, but for his mind to constantly toy with the idea made him want to scream. He dug his nails into his scalp drawing blood that healed and disappeared instantly. No pain he could inflict on himself would stop it. Pain meant nothing anymore. He was a demon. A monster.

His instincts screamed at him, telling him Kotoha and her son were dangerous: that they were compromising his safety and loyalty to Muzan. Douma knew those instincts were right but everything else in his body refused to listen. Her scent, her voice, everything about her made him want to protect her and cherish her. He never wanted to know the taste of her blood or the scent of her corpse.

His instincts warned him that she'd find out. Warned him that she would be disgusted by what he was and terrified of what he could do. Unlike him, she was good. She would run as soon as she discovered it and would never look back. She'd hate him. If she knew the screams that haunted him, she'd hate him. If she knew the blood on his hands. She'd hate him. If she knew... if she knew...

That was the first time Douma sobbed. He didn't know the experience but as the tears made his lungs seize he curled up in his room by himself and felt what amounted to eons of discourse snap apart. Oh how terribly poetic that it was after he was a demon he experienced such humanity. The tears dripped from his eyes as he realized the truth of the matter - he couldn't hold on to her much longer. As soon as she began aging and he didn't... as soon as his hunger took over and she discovered it... as soon as demon slayers found him and fought him... as soon as Muzan demanded he get rid of this weakness... she'd run out of fear of what he was.

It hurt like a thousand nichirin swords being dug into his chest but he eventually reached a conclusion that settled his tears and thoughts

She deserved happiness...

He did not. He didn't even know what happiness was until she entered his life.

She deserved to know.

He deserved to suffer. The thousands of lives he had ruined deserved to be avenged in some way...

He had to tell her.

When the Demon Slayers finally left one evening, Kotoha wished them farewell and watched them walk down the trail until they were completely out of sight. Then she walked back into the temple with a thoughtful look as she contemplated the nature of demons and demon slayers. She picked up Inosuke who was playing with a few wooden toys that had been gifted to her by a kind cultist by the name of Yoi. With Inosuke in her arms, she set out in her search for Douma. She found him standing in the garden, staring at the moon. Strange...

He had been acting strangely, and although Kotoha had pretended not to notice, she was deeply concerned.

He hadn't greeted the children who called themselves "demon slayers". He had barely left his room. He had told her that he was feeling ill but that in itself was wrong - when had Douma ever fallen ill? He had also seemed jumpy and distracted every time she saw him. There was, lastly, something else in his eyes, a sort of sadness every time he looked at her as if he was treasuring every moment, cherishing every second as if it would soon be gone. She knew that look and she hated it.

He was almost distracting enough to make her forget the demon slayers. She was worried, truthfully. Something was wrong with him - she could feel it.

"Douma," she called stepping into the garden, "Are you alright?"

"No," the man answered back softly. Something about his voice made Kotoha stop.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Inosuke looked to Douma as well, tilting his head, confused as to why the man was so far away and why his mother wasn't moving any closer.

"Kotoha..." Douma murmured, looking up at the slim moon. "Do you think man-eating demons exist?"

Kotoha rolled the question around her head as she tried to understand where the question was coming from; "I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to believe. It certainly would explain that boy's wounds. But... I've always been a little critical of such things."

"They came looking for a demon, correct? A powerful one?" Douma asked softly.

"That's what they said... are you alright? You're acting strange," Kotoha asked taking a step forward.

"It's me!" Douma spat out, it was as if he had to force all of his willpower into the sentence. He turned slowly and Kotoha realized he was on the brink of tears.

"Douma," she murmured walking closer. He held up his hand and gestured for her to stay away.

"They were looking for me," Douma explained in a soft voice.

"What are you saying?" Kotoha asked.

"I am a man-eating demon," Douma explained, everything within his mind and body was dedicated to keeping Douma from breaking down as he confessed. Still, he was trembling.

Kotoha's eyebrows furrowed and she still showed no signs of fear.

"I wanted to tell you," Douma murmured truthfully. "Every time you looked at me I wanted... I needed to tell you... but I was scared. I was more scared of the unknown pain than of the guilt that - it killed me every day, every day that I lied to you. But you just continued to trust me, and that only worsened the guilt by the day! I thought I would go mad with all these lies and I have. I have gone mad. I can't do it anymore..."

"Douma," Kotoha breathed as the demon continued to explain.

"You brought me emotion... something I had dismissed as fiction. I was so selfish in my fear of those new emotions that I forgot yours," Douma confessed, "It wasn't until I remembered you that I gained the strength to do this."

"I don't care," Kotoha smiled reassuringly. She didn't know what was happening but she didn't care either. "Douma, I trust you. I've always trusted you. Demon or no you're still a good pers-"

"But that's the thing!" Douma objected painfully, "I'm not!"

Kotoha couldn't speak as Douma continued.

"I'm not 'kind', I'm not 'good'," Douma explained sorrowfully. "Those demon slayers had a reason for hunting me! Kotoha, I've killed thousands... thousands of people! I've eaten humans! Humans like you! I used this cult as a meal plan!"

Kotoha was beginning to take slow steps backward, clutching Inosuke tighter. He couldn't be telling the truth - he couldn't... but this wasn't like him. He wouldn't mess around with this. He didn't lie...

Could she believe it? Could she really go from not even knowing what demons were to accepting that this man - Douma - was one? Douma, was a demon. It seemed impossible, ludicrous even.

"You know where I was a few weeks ago?" Douma asked desperately, "I was massacring an entire town on Master's orders. I killed at least a hundred people and ate who knows how many of those!"

Kotoha's look made Douma want to cry but he had to finish. He hadn't come this far only to break down.

"I'm a murderer. I've lived for hundreds of years, hiding from the sun and demon slayers. I'm a monster Kotoha," Douma stated simply, his franticness died with a strange level of darkness. Perhaps this was acceptance. "I feel no pain. I cannot age. You stab me and I will not die."

Kotoha shook her head. "No... no, this isn't funny. It's not true." But she must've seen some truth in his words as she continued to back away. Surely she was putting the pieces together; why he never came into the sun. Why he never ate. Why she'd never seen him in a deep sleep.

Douma spread his hands wide, trying to put a mask of happiness on. Why, why was it so hard to smile? "You fell in love with a man-eating demon, Kotoha! And not any demon, but the third strongest demon in the world! One who has killed more humans than there are stars in the sky! One who murders children like those demon slayers whenever he can! Kotoha... I am a monster."

Kotoha was backing away into the temple, Douma didn't pursue. He knew where she was going. Tears were streaming from her eyes and she was shaking as she held a confused Inosuke.

"Run... run Kotoha," Douma instructed softly to the maiden. Perhaps it was the fangs in his mouth or the way his eyes glimmered supernaturally. Perhaps she was finally connecting the dots; how he avoided the sun, how the cultists spoke of old friends who had long since vanished without a trace, how the demon slayers had seemed so uneasy in their halls. Perhaps she just trusted Douma's words and saw the genuine pain in his eyes - the most painful option of all.

Either way, Kotoha swallowed a sob and ran down the hall leaving Douma alone in the garden. Douma plastered on a smile and took a step forward. Instead, his legs gave out and he collapsed to his hands and knees as something ripped through his chest, tearing everything apart in the most painful way imaginable.

Tears flowed endlessly from Douma's eyes and tumbled to the grass below like new-fallen dew. He clenched his fists as he sobbed and cursed his existence. He curled up on himself and tried to suppress the painful emotion that was raging inside him to no avail.

She was gone. Likely running as far away as she could. She hated him. But... That didn't change anything in him. Why wasn't anything in him changing!? She was gone! She hated him! He'd never see her again! Why... Why did he still love her?

Why!?

Ah... So this was heartbreak.

Douma faked a smile for himself as he reached up and dug his nails into his chest. The pain within his chest made him want to rip his heart out of his chest and throw it away. Then, he remembered her smile. He saw her laughing and the pain in his chest tripled but the smile on his face became very real.

He still loved her.

She was still free. She still had a life out there. She would grow old caring for Inosuke who would grow into a wonderful young man. She would live!

Douma continued sobbing but there was silent happiness in those sobs. He had told her... she knew the truth. He had atoned to her for those lies...

She had changed him, he could feel it. He could feel.

He knelt there in his garden for hours, awaiting the morning. She was gone and he had never felt so content. The stabbing guilt in his chest had vanished and the weight on his shoulders and lungs was finally lifted. He imagined what sort of life Kotoha could have after him and smiled at the thought. He sat up and took a deep breath.

He had lived long enough.

He had caused enough pain.

It was time for him to go. Distantly, he wondered if he would meet a god and what they would say to him. If there was a hell, he knew he was going there. He also knew Kotoha would be going to heaven so he'd likely never see her, even if there was an afterlife.

"Gracious One!" someone called. Douma opened his eyes and looked up at one of his followers. She was looking at him concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Douma breathed thankfully.

"Oh... Have you seen Kotoha?" she asked next. Douma smiled because, of course, they would be looking for her - everyone loved her. Kotoha was joy and life and wonder and everyone fell in love with that woman. Of course, they would notice she was gone.

Douma smiled as he looked up at the reddening dawn, "No... no, I haven't," he murmured.

"Oh dear," the follower sighed walking away. She didn't notice Douma's strange calmness as he stared at the sunbeams breaking through the clouds. Tears formed in his eyes again and Douma held his chest again.

"So... this is the fear of death," Douma smiled to himself. "Funny... it can't compare to heartbreak... "

The sun's rays lowered and Douma closed his eyes and envisioned Kotoha's face. She was smiling as she held Inosuke who was babbling something about his Mama. When she saw him she had beamed and that image made Douma something akin to peace even as tears trickled out of his eyes and his hands trembled.

"Douma!" Kotoha's voice called. Douma dismissed it at first, thinking it was another cultist... But who else called him by name?

"DOUMA!" Kotoha cried making Douma's eyes open. She was there, standing on the temple's porch staring at him with tearful eyes. Douma stood up in awe as he looked at her unbelievingly.

"K-Kotoha?" he questioned softly, wondering if he was hallucinating. Truly, were emotions so strong that they could ruin his eyes? His senses? His sanity?

There was no more time to question. The sun burst over the fencing of the garden and touched him. Doema collapsed as agony rippled over his skin, burning him alive and drowning out all else.

He hardly heard Kotoha's panicked shout when she saw him fall over or feel her arms wrap around him and drag him into the shadows of the temple, covered by the sacred safety of the fence's shade. When he was out of the sun's gaze his cells began to regenerate and he panted painfully. Kotoha was kneeling beside him and was crying as she looked him over, wanting to hold him but fearing to touch the terrible burns that covered Douma's skin.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her tears falling from her face. "I'm sorry."

Douma's burnt face looked to her in confusion and he weakly reached up and touched her cheek with his burned hand. She was real. She was with him. Why, why was she here?

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" Douma wondered aloud weakly. "You've done nothing wrong."

"All you've ever been is kind to me," Kotoha sobbed looking at Douma. "You've always protected and cared for Inosuke and me! You never gave me any reason to be afraid or doubt you. All you've ever done is been wonderful..."

"I - " Douma began.

"Even if you are a monster, I - I can't just leave you," Kotoha cried as she closed her eyes.

"That's not true," Douma denied trying to sit up. The agony was too great and he almost gasped. Pain had never bothered him before so why now?

Damn emotion. What? Did it affect pain tolerance too!? That was ridiculous!

"Stay down," Kotoha pleaded gently forcing him back down, "You... you..."

"I'll be alright," Domua murmured, his eyes looking over to Kotoha. "You... you came back."

"Of course!" Kotoha choked. Douma reached up and held her cheek in his hand. She reached up and held his hand as tears streamed down her face.

"I don't... I don't understand," Douma wheezed. "Why?"

"Because..." Kotoha murmured, smiling under her tears. "Because no matter what, I still love you."

Could it be that simple?

All that pain, all that inner turmoil and it was just that simple.

Tears sprung to Douma's eyes and he choked on a sob. He sat up and hugged Kotoha, holding her desperately close and crying into her shoulder. She hugged him back and smiled softly as she heard the demon wail.

Never had he seemed so broken but as she held him close she heard him, clear as day, cry a muffled confession into her shoulder.

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

Inosuke was waiting in the arms of a few cultists who had taken the boy from Kohota when she had rushed away, apparently looking for Douma. No one had known what she was doing out of the temple or why she had looked as though she had run a couple of miles but they didn't have much time to question her either. She'd flown past everyone in such a flurry that all they could do was grab the boy and watch her run off, perplexed beyond all reason. Many were already gossiping about what had transpired between the two and some already feared the worst. Then Douma and Kotoha walked into the dining room, arm in arm, and beaming at each other and the gossip almost exploded to excited chatter. No one noticed or questioned why Douma smelled like smoke and burned flesh. He looked fine and his smile looked even purer.

Kotoha retrieved Inosuke from Tsu and thanked him before returning Inosuke to his normal position in her arm. He looked to Douma and let out an excited babble as he yet again reached for the ribbon on the demon's headdress.

"I can't tell if it's me he likes or my headdress," Douma pondered.

Kotoha laughed and leaned on his shoulder, "I'm certain it's you."

Saying life had 'meaning' was something no demon had really considered. There were goals in life. Akaza sought to become the strongest. Kokushibo sought to serve Muzan as best as he could. Muzan sought perfection. But what meaning was there in the life of an immortal?

Douma hadn't realized how empty life had been until there was a meaning to it. A reason to stand up every day and function, to look forward to each day. A reason to smile and continue to live. Douma would often ponder his earlier useless existence and would always come to the same conclusion: He had been a dog. A mindless sort of beast that was content to eat and live and pondered nothing of its purpose because it lived only to bring joy to its master. Demons were "the top of the food chain". That was truth, in a way, but an absolute lie in another. Demons had no sophistication in their lives... they didn't live. If they ever thought for themselves they'd be slaughtered or dragged back to the infinity fortress by the Kibutsuji curse at Muzan's orders.

It wasn't life... it was eternal servitude.

With Kotoha and Inosuke, Douma lived. His purpose was to stay by their side and watch their lives play out, his calling was to Kotoha and her smile. The happiness in his heart became a common feeling and he adored it. How much had he been missing all these many years? What a sad existence he had lived.

"You've got that face again," Kotoha laughed one day as she looked at him. The two were walking down the hall of the temple, keeping away from the windows but admiring how the warmth of the sun streamed into the halls.

"What face?" Douma asked.

"You're staring at me, and you're thinking about something," Kotoha smiled, trying to read the emotion in his eyes. "Something serious."

He pondered that for a moment before returning the smile, "I suppose I'm simply thinking about how lucky I am."

"Oh aren't you a sweet talker," Kotoha giggled lightly bumping into Douma which made something in him flutter nervously.

Nervousness, he had decided, was his second least favorite emotion, next to guilt.

"I'm telling the truth," the Upper Moon murmured wrapping an arm around her waist; "I can't think of a demon who could ever be luckier than I."

That was the truth. Pure and simple.

"You're not the only lucky one," Kotoha smiled leaning on his chest as they walked the halls they knew so well.

Years passed. Four to be exact.

Douma didn't hunt anymore, even though hunger tore at his stomach he refused to prey upon his followers. He killed and ate the stray demon that crossed his path (though they tasted absolutely retched). He tried to satisfy himself with wild animals; their taste was only slightly better but it didn't stab him with the familiar guilt he got whenever he killed humans or their twisted humanoid counterparts. Even if demons were evil, Douma couldn't hate them as much as he hated himself, they still screamed like humans. Their crimes hardly amounted to his own sins - insignificant to the horrors he'd wrought upon the earth.

As much as he hated hunger, guilt felt and tasted ten times worse. Pain, hunger, starvation... those were insignificant to him. Hardly a price to pay.

He did kill humans, on occasion, but he tried to do it for others and he never consumed their flesh - he didn't dare. Whenever someone came to his temple seeking asylum and was pursued, Douma made it his duty to deal with it. He suspected Kotoha knew but she never asked and she didn't seem too bothered either. He also figured she suspected the true reason behind the disappearance of his husband and mother-in-law. If she did, though, she never brought it up save for a small raise of her eyebrows and a shrug.

Blood, flesh, death, those things could bring drool to Douma's lips and leave him clawing at the floor like a rabid animal... because in the end, that's all he was, right? He had just been transformed into some rabid animal with a tight leash to his master's hands.

Well no more. No more flesh. No more food. No. More.

He was an animal no longer. He had a job, a duty, a love, and that all had nothing to do with Muzan Kibutsuji.

"What chy'a thinkin' about, old man?" Inosuke snickered as the young boy looked up at Douma. His knees were skinned and his face was bruised but the child looked proud as a lark in the midday yard.

"I'm thinking about how much trouble you are for your poor mother," the demon chuckled as he gently applied a wet cloth to the boy's knees, ignoring the way the scent of blood filled his mouth with saliva. It was easier to resist when it was Inosuke. The thought of eating the child could literally turn Douma's stomach sour.

"I'm no trouble!" Inosuke objected, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms.

"Oh, Inosuke... you're nothing but trouble," Douma laughed softly as he finished cleaning the wounds. He reached up and ruffled the boy's unruly hair that still had sticks stuck in it, picking out a small twig or two. "That's alright, though... I wouldn't change you for the world."

Inosuke grinned a wide toothy grin (one of his front teeth missing and a new tooth just pressing past the gums).

"Mama says I'm the best kind of trouble!"

Douma smiled in response and nodded. Kotoha was right, obviously, but she was right in so many ways. Inosuke truly was the best kind of trouble.

The boy had grown to be the wildest of children, so unlike Douma and that was wonderful. There were days the demon feared to think of Inosuke growing up as he had, sitting still, revered... that wasn't the life for little Inosuke, perhaps it wasn't a life for any child. The boy would rip through the temple, often losing his shirts for some reason (although he had luckily grown out of the "stark naked" stripping fazes once he passed toddlerhood), and would race into the forest like the trees and moss called to him. Kotoha had surprisingly worried very little about it, even though it gave the Upper Moon several heart attacks.

Concern was his third least favorite emotion. It made him feel like he couldn't breathe sometimes. He didn't have to breathe as a demon, but he still liked doing it!

The cultists explained that Kotoha's peace of mind came from something called "mother's instincts". It sounded so ridiculous, but Douma learned that it was very real very quickly. If she was worried about Inosuke, the boy would return bruised, bleeding, or with missing teeth (still baby teeth though so Douma could breathe easier), claiming that he had fought a boar or a wolverine or something of the like - half the time the boy was being dramatic, the other half though... Douma wasn't so sure. If Kotoha wasn't concerned, Inosuke would return with a gift for his mother that ranged in the forms of berries, nuts, rocks, or sometimes a randomly "tame" young boar or wolverine.

If there was something Douma struggled with, it was learning to dismiss emotions, and so keeping calm confidence with the child was trying at times. Still, he loved it - and when Inosuke first called him Dad at five years of age, the demon quite literally could've died and been happy.

"What was that?" Douma asked, breathless as the boy glared up at him. He had been wrapping Inosuke's skinned arm for what felt like the fifth time that month when the boy had, very clearly, indisputably, referred to him as "Dad."

"I said shut up Da- " Inosuke suddenly seemed to come to the same conclusion Douma had. "AH - WAIT WAIT - I didn'tmeanit I - I - I was only tryin' to say shut up you - you - you jerk!!"

"My little Inosuke called me 'Dad'!" Douma cried in joy that was not fit for a man of his age of a few centuries. He was squishing his own cheeks and smiling like an idiot at the blush that had taken over Inosuke's face.

Dad... what a word. What a wonderful, wonderful word.

"Shut up!" Inosuke roared in embarrassment, and you could almost see the smoke pouring out of his ears in fury to match the red on his face. "You're the worst!"

Douma kept on grinning for the rest of the day, and Inosuke's furious blush never went away. It had left Kotoha laughing for a solid five minutes.

Kotoha and Douma were now a common scene in the temple. It wasn't unusual to see them kissing in the halls or sitting together at dinner - the cultists also dually noted the times when Kotoha asked one of them to babysit Inosuke for a night...

As servants to Douma, they said nothing. He was their god, their leader, and their life.

As friends to Kotoha, they talked and teased her absolutely non-stop. The woman was easily flustered and embarrassed which made it only more enjoyable to tease her. Their giggles filled the halls and joined the symphony of joy that the cult flourished under. The cult had never been so large or bursting with so many smiles. It was like a shadow had been lifted from these halls, and in a way, it had.

For Kotoha, life couldn't have been more perfect. Her son was loved and cared for by a huge family who all loved him dearly. She was always safe, there was no doubt about that. Whenever Douma wrapped his arms around her, she would close her eyes and enjoy the gentle strength that would surround her. He was her heart. He was always patient with her, holding her whenever the nightmares returned and soothing her with his voice. Whenever she flinched he would always move more gently, softly caressing her fears away and replacing the memories of pain and bruises with gentle touches and soft kisses. Their love was made of a soft understanding, she had nothing to fear when he was around - and he was always around.

She had thought that he would be cold, being a demon, but sometimes she found that he was indeed rather warm. The temperature wouldn't bother him but on those winter nights when it was too cold, he would wrap his arms around her and pull her into his chest, giving her the useless warmth that he couldn't feel. He smelled of lotus blossoms and the sharp crisp scent of a clear spring and that grew to become Kotoha's favorite smell.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about him was the bond he had formed with Inosuke. There hadn't been any hesitation in the demon when it came to caring for the boy. Whenever Inosuke had sleepless nights, Douma was by his side, soothing him and caring for him giving Kotoha much-deserved rest. Douma's protective nature sometimes made Kotoha giggle for the demon would panic whenever the boy came back with a busted lip. She could understand it from his perspective, nothing could hurt the demon and he knew too well that humans were too easily hurt. A scratch on a human sent Douma into a panic because for all he knew it could take months for those wounds to heal.

There were certain quirks about her Love that made her wonder about him. He had told her that sometimes he may be called away by some "Master" and the mere mention had left him in a somber mood with his familiar fake smile that she saw right through. Whenever someone was bleeding, his eyes would sharpen and his movements would become careful and purposeful - Kotoha wondered if it was due to his diet. She had noticed his lack of food and always felt a pang of guilt. How long had he gone without food? She didn't ask for two reasons, one - she didn't have a solution to the problem, and two - she didn't want to know the answer.

Still, she wondered and she worried. In a way, that was normal she supposed. Despite the differences and difficulties, both were still somehow immensely happy.

Their lives began sharply changing when Kotoha began to get sick. It was random and she didn't quite understand why, but sometimes when she woke she would have to run and lose her last meal. Doma was worried sick himself and hardly left her side. Then, a mere few days into the sickness, he was called to his "Master" for the first time in years.

"You have to go," Kotoha had told him as she was being treated by some of her friends. Tsu was checking her temperature and gruffed to Mao something about her pale complexion. Miki and Amai were watching Inosuke and were keeping him in a different room so that he wouldn't catch whatever his mother had.

Douma was trying to understand what was wrong with her, but she smelled fine. There was no sour tang of sickness, in fact, she smelled wonderful. The fact that the demon didn't know what was wrong terrified him. He couldn't just leave. What if the mission took time, what if something happened while he was gone...

What if she was dying?

"It can wait," Douma assured her.

Kotoha looked up and read her lover's eyes. Douma had two phases, he was either unreadable when it came to emotions or he was an open book. Whenever his "Master" was in the conversation he was latter, his eyes flickering with fear. Kotoha didn't know who this "Master" was, but it made something in her chest squeeze to know that Douma was scared of someone. It filled something in her with rage to know something made her love tremble.

"You should go. I'll be fine," She assured him.

Douma knew she was right. If he refused, he feared to think of Muzan's reaction. Funny, he never used to be afraid of anything before. Fear was his fourth least-favorite emotion as it wasn't unbearable, just annoying. And of course, Muzan would call on him now of all times.

He'd always had fantastic timing.

So, reluctantly he bade her farewell and went to Muzan's side.

His mission was a quick one, thank the gods. He was to look into a rumor about the blue spider lily. Douma did it as quickly as he could and was almost relieved that Muzan was mistaken. The rumor was spread by a stupid flower vendor trying to pawn off normal blue lilies as a rarity. Douma disposed of the distraction (without committing murder, as it turns out humans keep very quiet when they think you're always poised to kill them) and then he returned as quickly as possible to his temple.

It had been a mere three days but the Upper Moon had a heavy feeling in his gut. He returned in the early morning to find Kotoha up and about, much to his relief. She greeted him warmly and for the rest of the day, the two stayed together. Some giggled to see him trailing after her like a very tall puppy.

Then, as the two settled down to bed she turned over to face him and smiled.

"What?" Douma asked trying to read her expression.

"I... um... How do you feel about children?" she asked, a small tint of pink coming to her cheek. Douma, being the oblivious demon he was, didn't catch the hint... or even realize there was a hint to catch.

"I don't mind them," Douma answered, oblivious. "Inosuke is really the first one I've ever - "

"I'm with child," Kotoha announced nervously, biting her lip.

Everything in Douma's world froze.

Demons couldn't have children. That's not how demons reproduced. But... but he knew... wait... hold on... that wasn't... that's not how... that isn't... Wait. What?

Oh gods he couldn't think anymore.

"Are you happy?" Kotoha murmured nervously snapping Douma from his trance.

"Yes," he answered and that was true. The idea of another child - his child made something in his chest grow warm. His mind flashed to his own father, a man that he'd never cared for, even when he was covered in his own blood, and Douma wondered what would make a better father. "Yes... I'm just also... puzzled," he answered pulling Kotoha closer.

"Puzzled?" Kotoha questioned.

Douma looked at her, "Demons aren't supposed to be able to have children."

She also seemed to ponder that. Her eyebrows narrowed for a few minutes before she smiled.

"Well, then I suppose this is a miracle," she laughed placing a hand on her stomach.

He felt another warm feeling spread through his body and he smiled, "I suppose you're right."

Though he was still fearful. There was so much he didn't understand and now, suddenly there was a child in the mix. All logic seemed to have fled Douma's life long ago.

What would a demon child be? What would Muzan think? Douma shuddered to think and closed his eyes to purge it from his mind. Muzan hadn't looked through his eyes in centuries because the demon king trusted him so if Upper Moon Two played his cards right... perhaps Muzan would never know.

Douma sighed and held Kotoha a bit closer as he tried to chase away terrible thoughts. Strangely enough, there was still a warm feeling in his chest.

Emotions truly made everything unstable but strangely, he'd grown used to it.

Kotoha had no reservations about the child, though it was comforting at times to know that Douma would've supported her if she did. He worried enough for the both of them. The two of them fretted, of course - who knew what complications would arrive, but miraculously, as with everything else, nothing arose out of the ordinary. There were times when she'd reflect on it to him, smiling as she leaned on his shoulder and gazed at Inosuke.

Fortunate, she'd say. She was so surprisingly fortunate - as she deserved to be.

Nine months later, the much-awaited moment sprang upon Kotoha. The hours of labor were long and strenuous for both her and Douma.

The smell of blood had never bothered Douma but the smell of labor... he could live another eternity without experiencing it. Kotoha's screams and her struggle were both terrible to watch and listen to, but he did not leave her side (and it wasn't only because of the iron grip she clenched his hand with but GOD where had that strength come from!?). He wasn't sure what to do or how to help but luckily the midwife seemed more than capable and only called on him to remind Kotoha to breathe which he did with only a few mild panicky pleas.

Who knew humans needed to remember to breathe? Wasn't that an instinctual thing!??

Suddenly, there wasn't any more screaming or coaxing or assurance. There was a dead silence that was, a moment later, broken by the wail of a newborn.

The hours of pain and anxiety were quickly forgotten as a bundle of blankets was handed to Kotoha's exhausted self.

"Congratulations," the midwife explained in a quiet voice; "A healthy and beautiful little girl."

Kotoha cradled the baby, tears of joy forming in her eyes as she looked down at the small thing. She looked over to Duoma and found his eyes wide, completely infatuated with the infant whose wails had fallen to small whimpers.

The demon had never seen anything so vulnerable.

The baby moved her chunky limbs stiffly and wildly as she tried to rub her eyes and kick out of her blankets. For a moment, there was nothing more beautiful in the world than that child. The emotion in his chest burned brighter than he had thought possible and Douma looked to Kotoha before smiling in disbelief.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Did all parents feel this way? Was this the thing that humans called joy?

He thought of his parents, the last time he'd seen them both; with his mother plunging a knife into his father, again and again, screaming and sobbing her insults, her tears mingling with her victim's blood. How his father's screams had died into gurgles trying to meagerly defend himself from Mother's jealousy and rage... Douma thought of how little he cared about that memory.

He promised he'd be better. He looked at Kotoha and knew that they would be better. He had to be...

The baby slowly opened her eyes and Kotoha's smile could've blinded anyone. The girl's eyes were just like Douma's, the multitude of colors made her eyes seem almost fluorescent as they wandered the room in wonder. Suddenly, Douma could understand why everyone called his eyes beautiful.

"Hello," Kotoha cooed at the child pulling the blanket away from the baby's face. The baby stared up at her in wonder before its eyes wandered to her father who felt as though he was about to combust due to the emotion in his heart. Honestly, he could explode and he wasn't sure he'd be sad about it.

A weak smile pulled at Douma's face as he gazed into his daughter's eyes that, to his relief, were sparkling with emotion. She wasn't born a monster... she wasn't him. The little girl giggled before letting out a shriek of joy that exposed her gums... which were not empty. Douma and Kotoha both realized that their little girl already had small bumps of white fangs pointing out of her red gums.

Kotoha looked to him as if waiting for him to assure her that it was fine, as if Douma had any idea. The demon gave her a smile but his own heart was conflicted.

If a child was born of a human and a demon... was it a human... or a demon?

"What's her name?" someone whispered from the door. Douma and Kotoha looked up to see at least ten of Kotoha's close friends peeking through the open door.

"I... I don't know yet," Kotoha laughed in response before looking back to the girl. Then the room was swarmed.

"Aw, she's so cute!"

"She's got her father's eyes."

"That's her mother's soft face, look at how she smiles! That's all you, Kotoha."

"She's so happy!"

"You did wonderfully, Kotoha."

"Hello there, little one!"

The cultists all admired the baby from a respectable distance, not wanting to crowd the new parents but wanting too desperately to fondle over the child.

"What should we name her?" Kotoha asked Douma, catching him completely off-guard. That's right; names were a thing!

Douma had no answer and instead had a newfound appreciation for names. They weren't just placeholders, they were something much more meaningful and the fact that what they chose now would stick with their daughter, was suddenly very scary.

Names they had discussed floated in Douma's mind; Lotus, a Kotoha jr., there was a plentiful amount of them but his thoughts were interrupted by Kotoha's soft voice.

"What about Mirakuru?" she offered. The name was familiar and he felt as though Kotoha had brought it up before.

He looked at her; "As in Miracle?"

She nodded and smiled as she looked down at the child. "Our little Miracle."

Mirakuru's large eyes looked at her father and Duoma stared right back.

"Yes... yes, I think that's perfect," Douma praised breathlessly.

"Moooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!" someone yelled, rushing down the hall and exploding into the room; A nearly six-year-old Inosuke.

"Hello Inosuke," Kotoha smiled.

"Is it over!? Did I miss the yucky stuff!?" Inosuke demanded running over to his mother's bed. That earned a scoff from Amai.

"Yes, yes you did," Kotoha assured him.

"Awww man!" Inosuke pouted.

Miki and Mao, two of Kotoha's friends ran in, quite winded.

"We're so... so ... sorry, Kotoha," Miki gasped, leaning on the door.

"We... couldn't... keep... him... from you," Mao panted, his chest heaving. The two then sat down in the doorway, catching their breath. Kotoha only giggled weakly. Inosuke went up on his tiptoes to try and peer over the mass of swaddled blankets in his mother's arms.

"What is it?" Inosuke asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's your baby sister," Kotoha answered leaning down so Inosuke could see her face.

"Sister!" Inosuke cried in disgust. He then glared at the baby, "You were s'posed to be a guy!"

That made one of Douma's followers explode in laughter and earned a scowl from Douma.

Mirakuru tilted her head as she looked at her brother and then giggled a bit before yawning. The movement seemed to touch the five-year-old's heart.

"Well..." Inosuke admitted, "Okay, I guess you're alright. And you already have fangs - so you're cool."

Kotoha smiled as her son talked to her daughter.

"I'll teach you how ta be fierce! Like a wolvamarine!" Inosuke grinned with his toothy smile. "You'll be an awesome girl, like a mama boar. Ya know, Mama boars can run you over, trample you real good and then rip ya apart with their big ol' tusks!"

Everyone's faces in the room fell. Mirakuru let out a giggle as she watched her brother's animated faces. Kotoha also broke into a weakened laugh as Douma began to explain to Inosuke how girls were perfectly wonderful, and that of course, he could teach her how to fight but only once she's older! And discussing the goring of children by boars would have to be put off by a few years. Yes, and the discussion about the mauling of wolverines. Yes, bears too. By the end of it, Douma had his head in his hands, and Inosuke was ranting about how he would teach Mirakuru all about how to hunt and how they'd start with mice and Kotoha just couldn't stop laughing,

Such a wonderfully strange family.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be impossible.

She wasn't supposed to exist. By all laws of nature, of reality, of demons... Douma shouldn't have been able to hold his daughter in his arms. But he did; wrapped in a soft blanket and subject to the night air. The baby had grown fussy, though not out of hunger, only discomfort, and so Douma took her for a walk. Say what you will but not having to sleep had its perks, such as letting your love rest.

He bounced as he walked, keeping the child asleep and soothed as he paced his garden that was thick with lavender, humming a lullaby that he'd learned from Kotoha. He didn't sound nearly as beautiful as she did, but Mirakuru didn't seem to know a difference. She slept on just the same.

Douma smiled as he pulled the blanket away from the girl's face, taking in her chubby cheeks and small fingers. So small... so helpless...

All humans started out this way, round, helpless, and soft. All of them started out with wide eyes and a shrieking giggle that could force the most heartless of men to melt. Douma continued humming and bouncing as he smiled to himself.

He supposed every demon slayer was once like this too... every demon as well if you thought about it. He had been like this, once. What happened? Was life that cruel? The demon studied the girl in his arms and wondered what life would do to her. She would also grow callused... that was life... but how? Would she keep her smile? Would she keep the wonder in her eyes?

He hoped so...

"You're doomed. You know that, right," a cool voice interrupted and Douma felt his spine grow rigid.

He whirled around, fan drawn as the suffocating scent of lavender, lily, and other heavy scents filled his nose. How had he been so blind? So unprepared? There was a demon so close and he hadn't even looked for it. He had assumed he was safe - that no idiot would step into his domain!

His lungs froze and he clenched his jaw, pulling Mirakuru closer to his chest. There, on the porch of the garden stood a very, very old face.

"Tamayo?" Douma laughed in disbelief. Surely not. Surely the traitor wouldn't so willingly show her face to him.

Something ancient in him yearned to drop the child in his hands and drag that traitorous demon back to their master. She'd been allowed to live only because she wasn't a threat - that didn't mean Muzan didn't want her captured and put down. There was a duty to drag her back and put her down - an expectation... an order.

"Douma... it's been a while," she smiled softly as she stepped into the garden.

He felt strange. Like he was the prey here when it was so obvious that she should be the one trembling in fear. He was Upper Moon Two - her superior! Muzan's favored!

"Wow, you must really have some sort of death wish." Douma chuckled darkly as he held his fan out in a warning. "Why on earth would you come to me? I'm sure you know what I'm going to have to do to you - "

"Turn me in? Go to Muzan, dragging me along kicking and screaming?" Tamayo asked coldly. Her eyes were hard and deep... like the frozen-over surface of a purple lake.

Somehow... it was off-putting.

"It is my duty as one of the Twelve Kizuki to turn you in," Douma grinned, his mask of a face hiding his mess of thoughts well.

Why was she here? What did she come for? What should he do? What about Mirakuru!?

Tamayo didn't seem the least bit concerned about his threat. She reached out and ran her hand over the guardrail of the garden, blood dripping from her fingers as her blood demon art made purple patterns dance in the corners of Douma's vision. That same blood dripped onto his garden, staining the ground that Inosuke would play in.

"You know, of all the Demon Moons... you were one of the last I expected to betray Kibutsuji," Tamayo murmured, unbothered and seemingly unconcerned. Her blood dripping down the wooden banister, racing down the grain with sickening sounds only demonic ears would pick out.

"Betray?" Douma laughed dangerously. No, no, no he hadn't betrayed Muzan. That... that would be death. For both him, Kotoha, Inosuke... Mirakuru... No, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

"I figured Akaza was a likely candidate. He only serves Kibutsuji because that man is strong enough to earn his respect. I knew Hantengu was too far gone, he practically worships the ground Muzan steps on just to stay alive... but he's selfish, and that selfishness can be manipulated. Gyokko is too vain but as I said... selfishness can be problematic for such a prideful man as Kibutsuji. The younger two, Six, I don't know them well but they seemed kind enough to each other to one day make that breakthrough in Muzan's spell. I think the only Kizuki less likely than you to betray him would be Kokushibo... and that's because Upper One is far too gone to be pulled back. But you? You: Douma... The great betrayer."

"I've betrayed no one. I've done nothing wrong," Douma smiled, trying to hide the lace of anger in his throat.

He'd drag this woman back if necessary if only to prove it to Kibutsuji. Yes... yes, he was a dog and he knew it, but dammit he wasn't risking Kotoha or the children. He'd be the best dog for Muzan if it meant his family lived.

Tamayo's eyes only slowly fell to the blanket in Douma's arms. She then warily looked back up at him... a strange emotion in her eyes. It wasn't aggressive or hateful or spiteful or anything Douma expected to see. It was sad...

It was pity.

The very realization made the Upper Moon's gut twist in recognition. He never would've spied that emotion a decade ago, but he knew what it looked like and he hated knowing that this fugitive was pitying him. Him: Second only to Kokushibo in Muzan's eyes!!

"Do you know what he's going to do to her?" Tamayo asked softly. "Do you know why I am here?"

"You will not touch her," Douma's mask shattered at the mere thought. A part of him had feared this. Mirakuru was half-demon, half-human... both sides of the war would want her dead no matter what her life became. Had Tamayo come to try and kill Mirakuru before she could grow stronger? Did she think Muzan could use her!? How did she even know about her!? Was she willing to -

"I do not want to harm your child," Tamayo soothed softly... and against all reason Douma trusted that pained lilt in her voice far too quickly. He heard something there... an old pain... an old wound.

Empathy, Kotoha had tried to explain to him once, was feeling the pain of others. Sympathy was sorrow for the pain others endured. Douma wasn't able to tell which one he was feeling at the moment but as he stared at the traitorous demon in his garden, he knew he felt something for the woman. She'd once been human. She'd once been like his Kotoha... she'd once been a child in someone's arms, like his little Miku...

"Then what do you want... why would you come here?" Douma demanded. The woman took a step closer and he took a step back. Why? Why? He could take her... he knew he could...

But Mirakuru was in his arms and he would not risk that. So he retreated another step to mirror her advance.

"You love her... the human... don't you?" Tamayo asked softly, her voice just barely louder than the wind. "You think others haven't noticed your lack of appearances - your lack of appetite?"

Douma only stood there, staring intently, trying to pick apart what this woman could possibly want and dissect the reason he hadn't turned her in yet. His chest was churning and a very real fear was blossoming in him. Surely... surely he wasn't that obvious? The fear of what Muzan would do to the child slumbering in his arms. The fear of what this meant for the world. But those thoughts were so big and his home was so small he didn't want to think it yet, so he squashed it down and swallowed it, like a lump of flesh and bone that made his stomach churn.

"Love, Douma... is a feeling most demons forget. Yet you learned it. You learned it... and you brought life from it. That's incredible, it's... it's a miracle. The devil does not look kindly on such miracles."

"What does that mean?" Douma demanded, though he already knew the answer to that.

"What do you think Kibutsuji will do once he learns about your daughter? If he doesn't know already. What do you think is going to happen to a child born of two worlds? Do you think Muzan will let her live?"

"She's no threat to him, and how do you know - "

"Her very existence is a threat to him. You're loyal to your family and that is a threat to him. Everything that doesn't center and serve him is a threat to him."

Douma swallowed hard and glanced at his daughter before looking back to Tamayo who kept staring at him, still heavy with the infuriating pity.

"So answer the question, why are you here!?" he hissed.

"Because I want to see you survive, Douma," the woman answered sharply. She reached to the bag held over his shoulder and pulled out a syringe full of a thick red substance.

"What is that?" Douma eyed it carefully but he already knew what it was. The smell was suffocating even from across the garden; blood. Not the type of blood that was making visions of flowers dance in his mind and weakening his senses but thicker, richer, scarlet blood.

"The Kibutsuji curse is a powerful, dangerous thing. The more blood you took from him the easier it is for him to drag you back to his palace. He can look through your eyes, he can sense what you feel, you are a puppet to him... but I can change that."

"Are you mad? He would kill me, you know. That wouldn't be pleasant at all." He tried to throw the fake smile back on, but it wouldn't stay in place.

"It's a choice, Upper Moon Two. An option for when Kibutsuji threatens the ones you love - because he will. He will either force you to harm your loved ones or he'll do it himself. When that happens you need to be able to escape him."

"Escape him? I will not betray him. Mirakuru is no threat to him. She is nothing more than a human. He has no reason to forsake me..."

"Do you truly believe that?" Tamayo asked as she set the syringe down on the smooth grey river rocks at their feet. "If so... smash this needle against a rock and be done with it. But if the thought has crossed your mind, if the fear has gnawed at your heart, then keep it. Keep it and use it on yourself when Muzan comes for you. The curse will still cling to you but Muzan will not be able to see you or sense you. His power can't drag you back to the infinity fortress and you will be his blind spot."

"It's your blood..." Douma concluded with a skeptical eye. "The blood you've engineered to evade him."

"It's a cure, not one strong enough for a demon with as many sins as you... but it's the beginning of a cure."

"I cannot use that... I will not - "

"Then don't. I came to let you know you have options, Douma. You do not have to be a slave for eternity, selling your soul to protect your loved ones. There are other ways... ways away from Muzan. I've waited years for another demon to realize what I have and I'll wait many years more."

"I think it's time you go," Douma stated pleasantly, the threat clear.

"You're considering it though," Tamayo smiled softly, staring right through his rainbowed irises. "You're not a drone... you're not a servant anymore. If ever the time comes... I will try and find you. Together, we may do great things. I wish you luck, Douma of the Twelve Kizuki."

"Leave." The Upper Moon's mask fell as he ordered it. Tamayo only smiled softly and turned, the blurring scent of lavender following her and fading away in the moonlight as she slipped into the hallways and out of Douma's sight.

He didn't follow her. She walked away from the room where Kotoha slumbered and Inosuke dreamed - that was enough for him. Only after her scent had fully vanished from the air did he gingerly walk over and pluck up the syringe, biting his lip as he held it between his fingers. Mirakuru was still tucked in one of his arms, warm beneath the cool moon. The syringe's blood was crimson and thick, powerful enough to send something in Douma retreating - the Kibutsuji curse? Was his blood recoiling so heavily at the mere sight of this thing?

No. No, he didn't need this. He wouldn't need this. He wasn't a traitor...

He wasn't!

The baby in his arms stirred, Tamayo's relaxing scent vanishing and bringing her out of the slumber she'd fallen into. Douma stared at the little girl and let out a heavy breath that crystallized with his blood demon art. He stared at the syringe, and then his daughter. Back and forth for another moment before letting out a long breath and closing his hand around the syringe.

He slipped it into a fold of his kimono and went back to bouncing Mirakuru, his stance taunt and tense now.

Just in case, he told himself. It wasn't betrayal... only extreme caution. It was just in case.

Akaza could hardly believe his eyes.

Douma had just let the traitor get away. Upper Three crouched there, jaw clenched and fingers tapping as he perched in a tree far outside Douma's range of hearing but close enough to see Tamayo waltz up to the bastard and walk away. He had half a mind to pounce the traitor herself, but several quandaries stood in his way.

One - this was Douma's domain. Causing a scene would surely put him at odds with the bastard. Two - Tamayo, demon or not, was a woman and Akaza had made his stance on such needless violence fairly evident to Muzan. Three - he didn't have any stake in Tamayo's presence. Muzan wanted her out of the way, but she'd been no threat, nor pain, nor obstacle.

The most pressing issue to the Upper Moon wasn't the renegade, but Douma. The man couldn't be conspiring with Tamayo, there was no way. Absolutely no way.

But Akaza had been watching for months now, dropping in now and again just because he couldn't believe it. He'd been doing it for years - at a distance. He'd watched spontaneously but recently it had been a planned excursion, a monthly check-in... and Akaza couldn't stomach it. Douma spent nearly every waking moment with a woman. With the same woman who hadn't yet been eaten.

That alone was hard to swallow but the... the affection. The way they seemed to cling to each other - the children!? It was confounding and strange.

Douma had "played" with his food before but never like this...

Akaza wasn't even sure it was playing. There was a boy, a brat, one of the kids that hung around Douma. He wandered in the forest now and again, playing pretend and laughing to his animal friends. Akaza had watched out of interest and nothing more, but the child had said things that left Akaza's blood curling in... well he wasn't sure what emotions he was feeling, but confusion was one of them.

Upper Two never ate anymore, at least not that Akaza had seen and Douma was never a clean eater. The pompous, gluttonous Douma wasn't feasting.

Why did Akaza care? That was a damn good question and he thought about that often as he spied in on a life that couldn't make sense to him. Douma had... changed. His fighting spirit was bright... something that Akaza never would've guessed could happen to a person like that. Douma was burning now, happier even, and not the creepy-happy he always had been. He had just been... different in the glimpses Akaza had caught.

It was strange... it was different... and for some reason when Akaza watched Douma and his human pet walk together in the moonlight something in his chest twisted with the sound of fireworks, the image of a snowflake, and the smell of blood.

Douma had changed... perhaps he had moved against Muzan... but if so that was not Akaza's business. The demon stood up and let out a long breath.

No one needed to know what he'd seen because he didn't even know what he was seeing. Besides, if he rose in the ranks it would be because he beat the shit out of that fuck, not because he was a coward who ran to Muzan and whined. There was no reason to go snitch, not on Douma - it was Douma, who knew what went on in that man's head

But there was something else too; Douma had been carrying a baby in his arms... a baby who very clearly had belonged to his human woman, a baby whom Upper Two doted after and wasn't eating! Akaza had seen the stages of the pregnancy progress from afar and he knew it belonged to Douma's pet who had been around for years. There was a slew of possible reasons but only one was making sense and that was the one that was the most impossible.

Akaza swallowed something heavy in his throat and fled, trying not to think about the weight on his chest. Good fucking god, Douma... what was that stupid rainbow-eyed demon doing? Akaza wished he had enough strength to wring that bastard's neck.

Chapter Text

For six brief and wonderful years, Douma was able to forget about his traitorous meeting with the ancient betrayer, Tamayo. For six bright years, he kept that syringe hidden in his robes and clothes, and he let himself forget about it. It was easy to forget such things when things so much more important grew before his eyes.

Mirakuru transformed from a helpless lump of giggling into an inquisitive, strong little girl. At six years old she was a force to be reckoned with. She loved to help, especially her father, but would never miss an opportunity to run away into the forest with her eleven, almost twelve-year-old, brother. Her rainbow eyes were large and vividly expressed a multitude of emotions, her hair was like her brothers and mother's and she loved whenever someone fixed it up, usually that someone was Douma.

He would sit for hours on end with Mirakuru in his lap, listening to her try and read him poems as he braided her ever-growing hair. She'd taken to learning much more eagerly than Inosuke who still resisted the lessons Kotoha would give. Kotoha had taught herself to read (something Douma hadn't even realized was a privilege he'd been given as a child) and she insisted that Inosuke learned. The boy had to be dragged into such lessons and would often escape to the woods to evade them, but Miku was happy to learn the texts her father showed her if the woods were an adventure too far. She had her Mother's eagerness to learn and intelligence and her father's patience.

She quickly became the golden child and Inosuke couldn't have cared less. The boy refused to be beaten in everything except schooling.

"But whyyyyy do I need to learn?" he'd whined as Douma tried to get him to write.

"So that you can learn more about the world," Douma instructed with a smirk.

"But I don't care about the world! If someone's trying to say something they should just say it! Who cares about stupid paper?"

"What if that person is very far away and wants to talk to you?" Douma asked gently. He glanced over at where Kotoha was softly reciting syllables with Miku and smiled to see both of their eyes gleaming with joy as Miku mastered it.

"Who wants to talk to me?" Inosuke demanded, pulling Douma's attention back to the boy.

"Well, I would like to talk to you if I'm far away," Douma chuckled.

"But you're not gonna be far away!" Inosuke argued. "You're gonna be right here and if you want to talk to me, just talk!"

Douma sighed and ruffled the almost-teenager's hair.

"Maybe I want to tell you a secret, and I don't want anyone else to hear," Douma smirked. Immediately, the boy perked up.

"What sort of secret, Old Man?" Inosuke asked with a suspicious look.

"Oh, all sorts of secrets. I know a lot of things," Douma teased dramatically. "Things I can't say out loud, but alas, I guess you'll never be able to learn them."

"Hey - hey, I know how to read okay! And I can write stuff too!" Inosuke argued. "You can totally tell me, or - or write to me!"

"No, no, what if you misinterpret a word - what if I use code?"

"Why would you use code!" Inosuke snapped.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"FINE! Give me that!" the boy snatched the pen from Douma's hands and scowled as he began to scribble on the paper. Douma smiled and shook his head as the boy sloppily began to transcribe a few lines from his book.

Another victory for Douma. Honestly, these small battles were more fulfilling than any fight he'd held with a demon slayer.

"Papa! Ino-san! Listen to this!" Miku called from across the room. And like that, Inosuke's focus was broken. Oh well, what could you do but laugh?

Inosuke was still plenty of trouble for the cult, but Miku had her own quirks.

Whenever Douma sat and listened to the prayers, needs, or confessions of his followers it was almost guaranteed that Mirakuru was about, either sitting at her father's feet while engrossed in a picture book or was sitting in his lap and watching him intently. Sometimes she'd make a poorly-timed interruption to ask her father what a word was and Douma would have to smile politely at the devoutee as he explained how to pronounce a specific kanji to the girl in his lap. Other times, she'd watched too closely and people would become unnerved by the girl's inhumanely bright eyes that were filled to the brim with wonder.

Douma's daughter was a strange girl, everyone knew that. Nothing seemed to hurt her and wounds would be fully healed in less than a day - something that annoyed Inosuke to no end. If they both fell out of a tree it was Inosuke who was bedridden the next day - it truly ticked the boy off that he, for some reason, wasn't superhuman and he vowed one day he'd figure out how to heal faster. Douma could live with him never figuring it out.

Mirakuru, or Miku as she more commonly came to be known also had strange sleeping patterns, sometimes not sleeping for days and then falling asleep for a whole month which had scared the high heavens out of Kotoha when it first happened. If not for Douma, the entire cult would've gone mad with worry (not that Douma had been in a much better state when it happened but he could at least smell that the girl wasn't sick or dying). The girl also didn't eat large meals. She always preferred the meat in her meals anyway but the meal was always small and sometimes she only ate a snack. Many dismissed it as a godly blessing passed down to her by her father and in a way, they weren't wrong... but in many ways, they weren't right.

Mirakuru was a demon in more ways than one. She didn't have to eat or breathe or drink to survive - she liked doing those things but she didn't need to. Her regeneration was efficient, her speed was incredible, and her strength was unmatched by any other child her age. She was a brilliant child and learned all sorts of things, from sonnets and poems to stories and a multitude of songs from her mother. Mirakuru was also human. She didn't crave human flesh, something Douma thanked whatever god existed for every single day, and she could eat human food (though only in small amounts). She could sleep, though in strange intervals, and could dream. Perhaps most importantly, she could play in the sun without being the least bit affected. The sun.

When she first stumbled into the unrelenting rays Douma had almost screamed, panic taking over as his toddler babbled and toddled into the cruel golden light. He had been a second too late, his speed hadn't been fast enough to grab her... but he didn't have to. She had walked into the sun without a hint of fear or pain, turning around and giggling at her father who had stared at her in wonder from the safety of the shade.

The sun. That, in his mind, cemented her humanity. She was no demon, she wasn't damned. She was human, like her mother, like her brother. He had only barely tainted her and she was human enough. She was strange but also perfect and when Douma saw her playing in the gardens in the middle of the day, he thanked the universe and smiled in joy. If anyone deserved the warmth of the sun, it was Miku.

Still, there were questions. Most of them, Douma could wave away. His daughter was blessed by heaven, of course. It's merely a blessing from above. It's completely normal. No, no, there's no need to worry.

Other questions... those weren't so easily avoided.

"Why are you and Miku different?" Inosuke asked softly.

Douma felt his world freeze and slowly, he forced himself to unclench the hands he held together.

"What do you mean, Inosuke?" He asked.

"I know you are," the boy stated. "I can feel it. You're different."

"You're going to have to elaborate," Douma chuckled dryly, forcing himself to stay calm. It would be perfectly fine if Inosuke knew. Inosuke should know, the boy deserved it. That didn't ease his ever-growing terror.

"You don't go out in the sun. You don't eat either. Miku barely eats and Mom doesn't tell her to eat her vegetables! She heals fast too! What's it about? I'm old enough to know!"

"You are old enough, now," Douma nodded slowly as he stared over at the moonlit window. "But it's a bit complicated... and I don't want to scare you - "

"You can't scare me!" Inosuke announced proudly. "I'm too tough! So tell me! Why are you different!?"

Douma sighed and wondered where to breach the topic of demons. How far was he to go? Was Inosuke old enough to not only learn about man-eating demons but that Douma had once partaken in such activities? Should Inosuke learn about the blood on Douma's hands?

"Your father is special." A soft voice jarred Douma out of his thoughts and he smiled. He hadn't sensed her coming because Kotoha's presence was such a commonality. He was completely at her mercy sometimes, it was funny really.

Kotoha walked in, ink on her fingertips and a black stain on her cheek from where Miku had doubtlessly gotten too eager to open the ink.

"But why? Why is he special?" Inosuke demanded.

"Because I am a demon," Douma murmured. Kotoha's arrival reminded him how to be brave... how to be honest.

"Huh?" the boy tilted his head and stared. "What do you mean?"

And so Douma told him. He told him about demons, demon slayers, and the dangers of both. He told him about the type of monsters that are much worse than those hiding in the closet. He told him about the strength and horror of those creatures, but before he could get to his own sins, Kotoha placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"Like Douma said, you need to be cautious of other demons, because your father is a very special man, just like Miku. He and Miku are kind and good. This is a secret though, so you have to keep it safe" she smiled softly, giving Douma's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Inosuke had been gaping the whole time and now that silence filled the air he grinned.

"THAT'S SO COOL - "

Oh, the wonders of childish innocence... but Inosuke wasn't much of a child anymore. That brought a bitter-sweet smile to Douma's face as he watched his teenager gawk and grin over Douma's demonic state.

The years had passed... and so much good had come from it. It didn't begin to make up for all the evil that stained Douma's hands, but it meant so much more to him.

Miku was bright and happy, Inosuke was growing stronger and braver with every day that passed, even Kotoha seemed to grow more beautiful and serene with every sunset.

As for Douma, he couldn't have been happier. It had been ten years since he had first met Kotoha and yet for all those years, the time had seemed to move at a perfect pace. Douma hadn't been called to Muzan's side in years and the Upper Moon appreciated the peace. He also hadn't eaten in years. It became strangely bearable as the years went by and while the scent of blood could still make him drool, the hunger had become a mere normal pain in his daily life. The bit of hunger was always worth the happiness of every day. There was no more guilt in his heart or heaviness on his chest whenever Kotoha leaned on him. There was no self-doubt whenever Inosuke came home with a scraped knee and a broken arm (which had happened seven times). There was only love and devotion to his family.

But, happiness is not in the cards for a demon - It never was.

One night the peace broke. Inosuke and Mirakuru were asleep in their rooms. Kotoha had fallen asleep leaning on Douma as they had sat talking in the garden. All had seemed peaceful until the acrid scent of Muzan Kibutsuji invaded Douma's senses.

His approach was silent and still, the only way Douma noticed him was his scent and how the hair on the back of his neck sprung upright. The Upper Moon looked up suddenly and found himself staring at Muzan who stood across the garden, hands behind his back. The demon was a terrifying figure and the very air seemed to tremble in the presence of the demon king. The half-moon above bathed him in a white light that illuminated the fury-filled ruby eyes.

"Master," Douma breathed. He would've gotten up but Kotoha was still leaning on his shoulder and he feared to disturb her - strange how he feared that more than Muzan's wrath.

Muzan was glaring at him in such a way that Douma knew he was about to suffer. His only thoughts, however, were on the woman next to him and the children in their rooms.

"Bring your daughter to me, immediately" Muzan ordered coldly, keeping his steady stare on the demon.

A blossom could've dropped from the tree and Douma would've heard it clear as day in the silence that followed. His heart would've stopped had it still been beating.

"What?" Douma's question was a breath of wind.

"Do not tempt me, Douma, bring your hybrid of a daughter to the infinity fortress. I've waited long enough," Muzan's voice was thick with anger and so Douma didn't dare question how Muzan knew or what he wanted.

"Yes... Master," Upper Two answered slowly, the words nearly catching in his throat.

Without another word, Muzan vanished leaving his damned demon there, fearful for the first time in a very very long time.

"What will he want with her?" Kotoha demanded, her eyes still clouded in sleep as she watched Douma walk back and forth, likely about to wear a path into their room's tatami flooring.

"I don't know," Douma answered softly as he paced his room. Kotoha sat on her cot, clearly distressed.

"Will he hurt you?" Kotoha asked fearfully. "Will he punish you for what you've done?"

Douma looked at her, unsure of how to respond.

"Are demons not allowed to love?" she asked fearfully. She was scared... for Douma. How ironic was that? She was a mere human on the receiving end of the demon lord's rage and she was scared for Douma.

"It's not a rule," He dismissed, trying to smile to assure her. He then went back to his pacing as he thought. "No, he shouldn't punish me for that."

Kotoha bit her lip before speaking again, "What about not killing humans?"

Douma turned abruptly to face her, "Kotoha - "

"I know you haven't eaten in a while," Kotoha admitted, her voice shaking. "I know you've been starving yourself and I know that's made you weaker."

Douma opened his mouth to argue but there was nothing to refute, it was all the truth.

"I... I suppose that would be the reason for his anger," Upper Two concurred softly. "He'll likely reprimand me for my insolence and demand I continue to stay strong, to which I'll agree... to a point. He'll study Mirakuru because she is something that is unheard of but will likely come to the same conclusion I have; that she is just an immensely strong human. A human. He has no other reason to hurt me or Miku," Douma concluded.

Kotoha clenched her hands together and looked at her lap.

"Please don't get hurt," she pleaded. Douma sat down beside her and gently laid one of his hands over hers.

"I will be fine," he vowed. He then reached over and pulled her closer. "I will keep Miku safe. We will be alright."

She leaned into him and nodded, the scent of fear and apprehension radiating off of her. Douma kissed the top of her head and began to stroke her hair. He tried to soothe her but it did little to soothe the worry in his own heart that hadn't beat in centuries.

"I promise," he told her. "I will be back with Miku."

And he prayed to his fate that he didn't just tell a lie.

"Papa, is this 'Master' nice?" Mirakuru asked, tilting her head as Douma led her through the infinity palace, his hand holding hers. Douma had been gentle when he woke her up and held her tightly as he allowed himself to be pulled back to this place.

"He's very powerful," Douma told the girl carefully. "You must be very respectful."

"Okay," Mirakuru answered uncertainly as she looked around. She tightened her grip around her father's hand and moved her feet faster to keep pace with him.

"Why couldn't Inosuke and Mama come?" Mirakuru whimpered.

Douma didn't answer but kept a firm hold on her hand. He kept his pace slow so she could keep up but also so he could sense any dangers. He recognized the emotion of cold nervousness flowing through his body. He tried to calm himself by repeating the same thing he had told himself for the past few years; they were not in danger. He had not done anything wrong. There would be no punishment. They were going to be alright. He was still loyal.

There was the sound of a biwa as the blood in Douma's flesh pulled him away, Miku's hand still in his. Suddenly, Douma and Mirakuru were standing on a platform. Mirakuru would've been awed at that magical act if not for the man standing feet away from her. She stiffened in fear as the aura of the demon washed over her. She released her father's hand, instead choosing to cling to his pants as she shied away and hid behind him. There was something about that man - the white-suited man, that made her very skin crawl... she wanted to run away as fast as possible. He just felt... wrong, like someone was clawing under her skin or picking at her lungs. So very, very wrong. She looked up and up and up until she saw his eyes. His eyes. They were terrible. Terrible! Her skin crawled and her blood curdled to see those eyes the color of staled blood.

Muzan stood on a raised platform, staring down at the duo coldly. He had dawned a new skin and aura, Douma realized. His pale face was now framed with wavy black strands of hair that made his light red eyes appear to glow. He was a tall young man dressed in a white tuxedo and topped off the look with a white fedora. It was stylish, perhaps, but not a look Douma would ever adorn.

Douma bowed reverently but did not kowtow as usual - something about going down on his knees made him uncomfortable. He wouldn't be able to move quickly, it was better to stand especially with Mirakuru trembling behind him.

But he was being foolish, he wouldn't have to move quickly. It was going to be alright.

"Douma," Muzan greeted with a sneer.

"Master," Douma returned the greeting happily, covering his emotions up with the familiar mask of fake sweetness. "It's been a while."

"This is your spawn?" Muzan asked, turning his attention to the girl cowering behind Douma's leg.

"Yes," Douma nodded, leaning down and reaching back to assuringly rub the girl's back. He was trying not to let any of his anger bleed into his smile. Spawn? Had Douma ever been so blindly arrogant to call living, breathing children spawns? He hoped not.

"She is half-human and half-demon?" Muzan demanded an answer and Douma forced himself to cheerfully give one.

"Yes," He agreed.

"How?" Muzan asked with narrowed eyes.

"I don't know," Douma answered truthfully with a fake smile. "Just happened, I guess."

Muzan's eyes narrowed and he looked back at Mirakuru. "Girl," he ordered, making her flinch. "Come over here."

Mirakuru shook her head and pressed her face against her father's leg fearfully. Douma leaned down and gently pushed her towards Muzan. "It's alright," he assured her, completely unsure of the truth in that statement but knowing that blatantly refusing the lord of the demons was not the answer.

Mirakuru reluctantly released her father and gingerly walked over to where Muzan stood, keeping her eyes down the entire time so she wouldn't have to see those eyes. Muzan stepped off of the pedestal and knelt before the girl, grabbing her chin with his hands and studying her face.

"She can heal herself?" he asked, directing the question at Douma while studying the girl.

"Yes," Douma answered curtly, trying to swallow a surge of anger. No, no, he must not get angry. That was just how Muzan was; he studied things like objects. He hadn't come to the same epiphanies Douma had, he didn't see people as anything more than pawns and objects.

But had it been anyone else touching his daughter like that, they'd be dead.

"And her speed and strength are enhanced?" Muzan persisted, grabbing Miku's chin to keep her still as he judged something in her eyes. The girl whimpered under that gaze and tried to look back to her father for guidance.

"Yes," Douma responded again, he swallowed another surge of answer and forced his hand to stop trembling.

"She hasn't eaten any humans?" Muzan pondered.

"She has not." Stop touching her, was what Douma wanted to hiss.

"And... she can walk in the sun..." Muzan finally released Miku's chin and the young girl had tears in her eyes as she took a fearful step back and hugged herself. She was scared. Douma wanted to swoop her up and cradle her, promise it was alright, take her away so this was just some terrible nightmare to her.

He could not, so instead Douma carefully watched Muzan, his feeling of unrest growing by the moment. "Yes..." he murmured.

"Good," Muzan concluded, his eyes set on Mirakuru as he stood. "Then she is what I've been looking for."

A beat of silence that Douma's still heart couldn't break.

"What?" Douma breathed.

Muzan's grip struck like a snake and latched onto the girl's wrist, much to Mirakuru's horror.

"PAPA!" she screeched as her arm was grabbed and she was dragged away. She couldn't even begin to compete with the strength in that hand. Douma surged forward but was stopped by a strong hand grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and a sword pressed against his throat; Kokushibo. The Upper Moon stood behind Douma, his six eyes piercing Upper Two with their glare. Douma hadn't even sensed his approach!

"She's not one of your demons!" Douma objected, glancing at the sword pressed to his throat. "Devouring her won't grant you immunity to the sun! She is more human than she is demon!! She is not the answer you're looking for! I promise - I swear!! She's no threat! She's of no use!!"

Muzan turned slowly to Douma, ignoring the struggling girl he held by the wrist. "She is very much one of my demons. The same blood that courses through your veins runs through hers. Her born immunity is something I have been seeking for years, and you saw fit to hide it from me. You hid what could be the key to my perfection away from me."

"I hid nothing!!" Douma objected, his expression breaking in horror and his voice cracking.

"No?" Muzan taunted. "Not the fact that you've spared humans or that you've grown weak in your constitution!? Not the fact that you've spared demon slayers or starved yourself to a miserable point of frail weakness, sullying the name of the Twelve Kizuki? Or perhaps the fact that you lusted after a human girl and through some strange case of experimentation had her bear you a child?"

"It wasn't lust!" Douma cried though it felt stupid to argue that point of all points, but it was the one that made fury rise in his heart the most. "There was no experimentation! I love her! Mirakuru is the result of that! I've never done anything against you Master, I swear! I never meant to keep anything from you! I am loyal! I fell in love, that's all!"

To that, Muzan only laughed and turned away. "Demons can not love. What you fantasize are only mere lustful delights."

"PAPA!" Mirakuru cried, desperately trying to wiggle out of Muzan's gasp.

"No! No you can't!" Douma cried trying to rip away and lunge for Muzan. He was trying to lunge for Muzan. What was he doing!?

"PAPA!"

That was his girl. His little girl.

Douma would've called out for her, he would've tried to tell her it was alright, he would've tried to call after her all of which were lies but he would've tried to tell her something. He never got the chance. Kokushibo's sword sliced through his throat, causing a river of blood to pour out of him and drown his next objection in a cry of pain and anguish. Douma went to try and stem the bleeding, horrified at the slow rate at which it was healing. Kokushibo released him and shoved him forward, holding his sword at the ready. Surely not... surely he would not be decapitated here... by his own kind...

He'd done nothing.

He'd done nothing and both he and Miku would die for it!

For Mirakuru it was too much. Seeing her father bleed so much, hearing him try and scream, knowing a strange and terrifying man was dragging her away, all of it struck something in her that made her tremble. Something in the girl shuddered and wanted to erupt and with her next scream, she let it, her blood curled and her lungs seemed to burn as something strange in her awoke.

Her blood demon art burst forth and a scream erupted from her lungs making Muzan stumble and forcing Kokushibo back. It was at such a decibel that the very air shook and clashed together in disjointed chaos of sound and cacophony. Douma looked up and found he wasn't affected as the others were, Miku's scream was just that to him; a scream. He didn't waste a moment. He practically flew forward, his golden fans flashing as he drew them. Muzan stumbled around just as Douma struck. There was a splash of scarlet as the fans sliced through Muzan's neck and arm.

To Muzan, Douma looked as emotionless as ever. His eyes were dull and his movements were merely reactionary. To Douma, however, everything was vivid and sharp, with Mirakuru at the center of it all. He hooked an arm around her before rushing away towards the familiar biwa player.

Nakime had also been affected by the sonic shout and hadn't recovered yet when Douma crashed into her, kicking her in the head, and decapitating her so that she couldn't hinder his escape. Mirakuru saw nothing for she was too busy sobbing fearfully into Douma's shoulder as he held her in one arm. In his free hand, he held his open bloodstained fan and was prepared to use it against anyone else in his way. The wound in his neck was still bleeding profusely but that hardly mattered to him.

He whirled around and with a snarl unleashed one of the most brutal and destructive forms of blood art he ever had. The drops of blood spilt on the floor erupted in pillars and explosions of ice, blocking the demons from him and spreading in unrefined, ugly bursts that only served the purpose of giving his pursuers a hindrance.

He had to get Mirakuru out of the infinity fortress. He had to escape. Damn him for his blind hope and devotion - it was going to get them both killed. He needed to run - he could run! He was faster than Kokushibo - not as skilled, but definitely faster. Muzan... he just had to pray that Muzan didn't take immediate chase.

As he ran he pondered the consequences of his actions. He was going to die for this, there was little doubt about that, but that didn't scare him nearly as much as the thought of letting Mirakuru go and allowing her to be devoured. Letting her go with Muzan.

There was something strong in Douma, something he had never felt with Muzan. Later, he would realize it was staunch loyalty. An unwavering bond tying him to Kotoha, Inosuke, and Mirakuru. It was nothing like the flimsy bond of reverence he had once held for Muzan which was why when it came down to it, Douma didn't hesitate to betray the demon lord.

Gods, he hadn't hesitated. He was so immensely dead, but it hardly mattered anymore.

What Douma loved came first, always and forever. His free hand brought his fan to his face where he held it between his teeth allowing that hand to slip into a pocket in his pants and pull out a syringe he had held secret for years; Tamayo's blood.

He jabbed the ancient thing into his neck, making Miku flinch at the sight.

"It's okay," he tried to soothe as he kicked down a wall and jumped down a verticle hallway. He pressed down on the plunger and felt that foreign blood enter his system. It ripped through his essence and Douma almost faltered, almost.

He stopped for only a moment as a wave of dizziness came over. Something ancient in his blood was fighting back, screaming at him for his insubordination, but that was quickly overrun by an overarching sense of freedom. Douma shook his head and charged forward as the feeling seized him. He could not be spied upon by Muzan, he could not be summoned against his will... his collar and leash were gone.

He still could not say the demon lord's name... but that was hardly important to him. He was free and that was all that mattered.

Douma crashed through the infinity fortress following his nose towards the exit and beating any walls and doors in his way aside.

Right when he found an escape, Akaza emerged in front of him causing the demon to skid to a fearful halt. Akaza looked just as surprised as Douma felt. The newfound freedom in him screeched a warning.

Akaza looked Douma over in confusion, noting the strange child in his arms, the familiar child that Akaza had only ever seen from afar. He'd been summoned under the pretenses of a "promotion", whatever that meant... now suddenly it was making sense. The girl in Douma's arms was trembling and when she turned slightly to stare at Akaza, the demon found the eyes of Douma staring back at him in her sockets.

Akaza's expressions spoke for the demon as he took a step back in confusion. The child - the woman - Douma. The truth was staring at the pale demon and his head was screaming with the sound of fireworks.

Douma had somehow, someway, had a child. Akaza felt his very chest shaking as he stared at Douma and saw a fighting spirit so bright and so pure radiating from a fellow demon. It was something both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He'd never seen such a desperate and bright fighting spirit from a demon.

"Miku, I want you to run as fast as you can to that door," Douma instructed softly nodding for the door beyond Akaza.

"What about you?" Mirakuru asked timidly, clenching her father's shirt as she whimpered into his shoulder.

Douma would've responded had Akaza not stepped out of the way, leaving Douma to watch Upper Three in shock.

"Go, I never saw you," Akaza ordered in perhaps shock and quick understanding. Nothing and everything made sense all at once to Akaza and all he knew was that he wanted nothing to do with it. The noise in his head was too much and he couldn't hear anything over the sound of fireworks, fireworks that only he seemed to hear.

"No, you didn't," Douma agreed softly before taking off once more and crashing through the final door. He emerged into an empty alley and raced for his temple, running as if satan himself was chasing him - which wasn't too far from the truth.

Chapter Text

He was a dead man.

That was all that rang in Akaza's skull as he bowed before Muzan. He was a dead. man. His strength would not save him this time, not against Kibutsuji. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to -

"Bring him to me and you'll be forgiven." Kibutsuji's voice was ice grating over Akaza's bones. The demon lord stood but a foot away, his eyes burning with rage and his veins bulging from his skin. "You did not know what he meant to me. I will forgive you for letting him go. But you must bring him and his daughter to me. Do you understand, Akaza?"

Akaza slowly nodded as he sat up from his reverence. His hands were shaking - why were his hands shaking. What about those two had pierced his mind? What were the images fighting for his attention? Why did it hurt?

He kept seeing that girl. Douma's girl, with his eyes and his face. With a big fearful expression that almost matched her father's. Her father's.

Douma had indeed produced a spawn. And now Muzan wanted her. She was the key to his perfection: Her. That was another thing, was he expected to fight the little girl? And what about Douma's woman - the mother of the child. He should stop thinking.

"That would be wise, indeed," Muzan scowled. Akaza tensed under the tone and felt something strange in him as he prepared for punishment.

He'd been here before... not... not here, but someplace similar. He'd been beaten and bruised, his back had hurt and his wrists burned. They had burned so terribly. It had been his third tattoo mark, a blue stripe staining his wrists for the third time marking him as a thief.

A thief. A pickpocket.

Akaza shook his head and grimaced. He couldn't think. He couldn't think about it right now.

"You will go with Kokushibo. You will bring me Douma and his daughter. What you do with the other humans is none of my concern. Do this and I'll forgive you," Muzan ordered.

His voice though was overlayed with the other, older voice... the magistrate. The Magistrate.

The Magistrate. Who beat him for stealing. Why had he been stealing? He couldn't recall -

"As you demand it, it will be done," Kokushibo spoke for the both of them and Akaza managed a mild nod.

"Then go. Quickly," Muzan ordered of them, and they were off. Akaza did not waste a second, nor did his superior. He ran alongside Kokushibo and as Nakime's string sounded out they found themselves bursting into the open air.

The night was thick, the stars were dim, and Akaza was a hunter... so why did he feel hunted?

He ran faster, his feet pushing him forward past Kokushibo. He didn't have to breathe but for some reason, his breaths felt labored, heavier. He felt smaller, younger... weaker. He was running as fast as he could and he needed to get stronger. Why? To fight. Why? To fight against those who come back for what I stole. To fight back against the Magistrate. Why? To get the medicine! WHY!?

Akaza nearly tripped on himself, stumbling as the memory seared into his mind like the burning ray of sun. It wasn't a full memory or a full thought... but it meant something. The same fear in Douma's eyes had been the fear Akaza had carried with him as he walked into that damn house and saw his father hanging there. Still. Limp. Dead - No! No, he couldn't think about this! He had to keep moving! He had to capture Douma and his damn daughter. Why? Because Douma had disobeyed! Look at your wrists! All you ever did was disobey!

No. NO. Stop thinking, just run. Run and do as your told. Since when, Hakuji? That's not my student talking. Followin' the rules now?

That voice... There was a name to that voice...

Master... No, not Muzan, his actual Master. His teacher. His sensei...

Akaza's head throbbed as he ran, branches smacked his face as he took off through the forest. Why was he thinking of this now!? Why was he remembering this now!?? He needed to stop. He needed to pursue. He needed to move.

He'd go to Douma's cult first. See if he was there, if not this hunt would be more complicated and he couldn't fail. The punishment would be unbearable -

It hurt. It was his voice but it hurt. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to think about Douma's eyes or the girl's eyes - how they reminded him of things. A father and a daughter. A teacher and a student. Rainbow eyes burst into fireworks in Akaza's mind and it bit into his very existence like a wolf's fangs.

It hurt, but he continued.

After all, he was apparently used to pain.

Part of Douma was surprised when he ran back to the temple and found Kotoha and Inosuke waiting for him, nervously. The moment Kotoha saw him she ran forward and put her hands on his face, looking fearfully at the scar that was still slowly healing on his neck and the bloodstained clothes. She was scared, he smelled it - but there was something sharper too. Something that filled her eyes with something fierce.

"Mama!" Mirakuru sobbed reaching out and jumping into her mother's arms.

"What happened?" Kotoha asked as she managed an armful of her little girl.

Before Douma could offer an answer, Mirakuru began to sob.

"They're all mean Mama! They're mean! He tried to kill Papa!" she sobbed. "He tried to take me!"

Kotoha looked to Douma concerned and before Douma could do anything, agony ripped through his eyes making him gasp and fall to his knees, holding his face.

"Douma!" She was at his side, kneeling as he hissed. The pain was not so unmanageable, but it burned - his own cells rebelled against him in a constant reminder of what was never fully his. This body. This existence. This demonic corpse -

"Dad?" Inosuke asked doing the same.

Douma breathed heavily and slowly looked up, two large X's sliced through his eyes, making Kotoha's breath hitch.

"Your eyes," Inosuke realized. Douma let out a weak smile - it seemed Muzan had finally figured out he wasn't in the infinity fortress - and he was livid. Douma could feel it. He was livid because he couldn't drag Douma back. Muzan may've owned him once, but that leash was gone. Silently, Douma sent a quiet thanks to Tamayo.

"It's alright," he assured them all. Their faces were full of fear and yet still a concern for him... even though this was his fault. Even if this was a calamity he had brought upon them all.

"What do we do?" Kotoha asked, ready for action.

"We need to go," Douma explained looking at her. "We need to leave now."

Kotoha nodded and looked to Inosuke who jumped to his feet.

"I'll be right back!" Kotoha announced firmly. Douma could only nod as she ran into the cult with Miku in her arms. Anxiety prickled on the back of his neck as he imagined the demons that were now on his trail. He shuddered to think how close Kokushibo and Muzan could be on his heels. How fast they'd catch up - what they'd do -

But Kotoha only took a moment. She ran back out not a moment later, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the buildings that had once been their haven.

"I told Tsu to evacuate the cult. I've given him a letter, it should explain everything. They'll run and hopefully get away," she nodded and Douma praised her merciful heart that he could not compare to.

"You wrote a letter?" Douma murmured, dumbfounded.

"I had a feeling it went poorly," Kotoha explained briefly with a firm nod. "And thought it best to plan."

"Well - perhaps you'll spare them a worse fate," Douma nodded, emotionless. His newfound feelings didn't extend to his cultists... not in this circumstance. Perhaps he felt slivers of guilt when thinking of Kotoha's friends... but not as that worry extended to his family. Muzan may kill his followers but what he would do to Kotoha or Inosuke or Mirakuru was nothing short of terrifying in Douma's eyes. He had to prioritize and his priorities consisted of three people.

He'd always be a monster.

"Where're we going?" Inosuke asked as he took pace with them.

"Far away," Douma answered, gesturing for Inosuke to get on his back. "Hop on, we'll have to move faster than our pursuers."

"You can't mean you're going to carry us?" Kotoha objected.

"I do," Douma said firmly. Inosuke leaped up and wrapped his arms around Douma's neck while the demon scooped Kotoha and Mirakuru up. He held Kotoha under his knees and back, in return, she kept a firm hold on Mirakuru.

"What should we do Dad? How can I help!?" Inosuke demanded, looking around as he clung to Douma's neck.

"If you see something, tell me," Douma instructed. He then moved with a speed that only a demon could utilize, a speed Inosuke's eyes could barely track.

He ran away from Muzan and his plans. Away from all reason and sense that had for so long monopolized his life.

He would keep his family safe.

To say that Muzan was angry was an understatement. The demon lord was furious.

The fact that he had been betrayed... betrayed by that idiot of an emotionless demon infuriated him to no end. It was one thing for the Lower Moons to be rebellious... but an Upper Moon? Upper Moon Two no less. It was almost as bad as Tamayo's betrayal.

Except Muzan could understand why Tamayo betrayed him. The woman hated him. She despised him with every cell in her body, she basically always had. There hadn't been a moment after that blood-soaked night that had lessened her loathing of him. Douma? Douma didn't feel anything. Never had. Never would. Why would he throw it all away for a mortal?

Muzan had always hated the demon but Douma had at least been reliable. Douma wasn't one to act on his feelings because he had none. He had been loyal, stubbornly so! Ambition didn't apply to Douma, he wasn't always stretching for power as Akaza was. Hatred, passion, anger, none of it swayed that demon.

And yet a mortal did.

A human.

When Muzan had first seen it he had dismissed it as Douma being Douma. The annoyance loved to experiment with the little pests. It was one of his more desirable traits. The man had been playing a familiar mascarade of emotion. Then... the demon had starved himself, scarcely eating. He'd diminished in power. And why? He suddenly found morales. Why? Why?

Muzan had 'forgiven' the demon as soon as his child was born. That girl was the answer. She was half-demon, half-human. Consuming her was one of the best chances he had to finally reach perfection. She'd grown and once Muzan was certain the child's two halves weren't tearing her apart he began to plan for his own godhood. His key to that future had been snatched away by that traitor.

Muzan wanted nothing more than for Douma to utter his name and have Muzan's curse enacted. He wanted to tear Douma apart for what he had done.

His veins bulged, his eyes glowed, and his jaw clenched.

Akaza and Kokushibo had left quickly after their orders but Muzan hardly noticed they were gone. He paced his halls, clenching his hands with half a mind to chase Douma down himself. Fury pounded in his head as he imagined where Douma could flee... the chance that he'd immediately lure them all to some demon slayer nest was too great. Besides, what would it look like to the demon world if Muzan lost that much composure? He was supposed to be infallible, above the trivial matters of the demon world.

What would this look like to his subordinates?

What would happen if word of this got out? The word that an Upper Moon had betrayed him...

How many demons would follow in Douma's footsteps?

None, Muzan swore to himself. No demon would follow in Douma's footsteps for he would make an example of him. No demon betrayed their lord. Muzan would make Douma remember why his name made all demons tremble; why merely uttering his name meant death.

He was Muzan Kibutsuji, the lord of the demons, a step down from god. He was not to be crossed.

He would make traitors suffer.

Douma, while Muzan fumed in the weeks that followed, found joy. Weeks after he had fled from his old life, he had found that his emotions still rang true. Even when his world fell apart, he still loved.

"And I'll chase em' down like this!" Inosuke explained fervently as he held two chopsticks, one in each hand. He treated them like swords and grinned toothily as he depicted his future fights with his enemies. He ran about the small mountain cabin in his imaginary fight - a most dramatic fight if Douma was to comment.

Kotoha smiled fondly at the boy and rubbed his head as she walked by and crouched down.

"You're already so strong, Inosuke, no one would stand against you," she smiled, 'booping' his nose with one of her fingers.

"I'ma get super strong!" Inosuke laughed, putting his hands on his hips. "That way I can protect everyone!"

Douma smiled fondly from where he sat on the floor. Mirakuru was in his lap, gawking at an ice lotus he had constructed with his blood-demon art.

"How do you do it?" Mirakuru asked holding up the small ice sculpture and looking up at her father puzzledly.

"For me, it's not so hard," Douma explained softly as he opened a hand in front of her. A small ice boar formed in his hand much to his daughter's amazement. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"So cool," she breathed reaching out and grasping the ice sculpture.

"You'll learn to control your blood art eventually," Douma soothed. "It's much like exercising a muscle. I'll help you learn as you grow."

Miku only cupped the ice in her hands and smiled in wonder.

Douma smiled at his daughter's awe, a small smile that happened without his knowledge. Mirakuru held the ice sculptures and looked up, her eyes slowly drifting up and resting on her's father's rainbow eyes that had those large x's slicing through them. They'd been scary at first, but now she was growing used to them... still... they weren't pretty to look at.

She had always loved her father's eyes and now they were all ruined because of that man.

Mirakuru placed the ice sculptures on the floor and stood up, grabbing her father's cheeks and looking into his eyes. Douma was confused but at this point understood that humans, especially children, were strange.

Mirakuru stared at Douma's eyes, her own rainbow eyes wide in a large current of emotions.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, with a tilt of her head. Her long black locks with blue tips spilled down below her shoulders.

"What?" Douma asked.

"Do your eyes hurt?" she asked again, worriedly.

Douma put on a smile, his chest possessing some warmth for his daughter's naive concern.

"No," Douma lied, rubbing her head assuringly. Pain was not important to him, it never had been.

"Good," Mirakuru nodded, releasing Douma's cheeks. She still stared at her father.

"What's wrong?" Douma asked, tilting his head.

"You're still pretty. You know that Daddy?" Mirakuru asked.

Douma's eyebrows raised. That was hardly something of concern.

"Your eyes are still super pretty, even if that meanie did put X's through them," Mirakuru assured her father.

Douma chuckled. Muzan the 'meanie'. He would be sure to throw that insult at the demon lord the next time he saw him.

"Yeah, you just look awesome!" Inosuke agreed eagerly, coming to his sister's side. His green eyes seemed to sparkle with his large grin.

Douma smiled at the two lights: "Thank you..."

"Dinner," Kotoha told the two children. Inosuke's head swiveled and he shot off like a bullet at the sound of food. Mirakuru took her time and walked over with a smile. Douma stayed where he sat and glanced out the window.

It would be dawn soon so he had little reason to fear, but every night seemed like a terrifying journey until the sun rose again.

They had settled in a small abandoned cabin in the mountains for a few days but Douma was certain it wouldn't last long. Muzan still wanted him dead. Douma was certain that sooner or later, he would face the consequences of his actions and when that happened, he prayed he could spare Kotoha and the children from it.

Kotoha came up beside him and smiled as she saw the worry on his face.

"Miku's right, you know," she murmured, softly. "You are still pretty... and you are still strong."

Douma looked at her and gave her what counted as a broken smile. "Not strong enough..."

She reached up and cupped his face. "You're strong enough."

Douma smiled as she pulled him down for a kiss and felt her strange magic worm its way into his heart and make him feel confident.

"EW!" Inosuke announced over his plate

"It's not Ew!" Miku argued back. "People are s'posed to kiss if they love each other!"

"But not in front of me!" Inosuke whined.

Kotoha pulled away from Douma and smiled as she looked into his arms.

"Perhaps there will be consequences... but for now... it's just us," she murmured. And she was right.

Consequences would come sooner or later, but for now, Inosuke was starving and looked like he was ready to eat his chopsticks.

The consequence came sooner, not later. They had stayed too long, Douma should've moved them. He should've been more diligent in how they moved. He had thought it was far enough, he thought he had thrown them off his trail. He had thought and thought and thought but at the end of the day, the consequences came with the moonrise.

They came in the form of Kokushibo and Akaza. The two demons came shortly after night fell, a little after the family had risen with their new nocturnal schedule. As soon as Douma had sensed them he had sent Kotoha and the children off.

"You can't fight them off!" Kotoha had objected, grabbing his arm and reading his thoughts as she often seemed to do. There was a ferocity in her eyes as she urged him to come with them. "We should run. We can escape!"

"Akaza is fast than me and Kokushibo will be right on our heels, you need to run - far. Look for demons slayers, look for wisteria houses, just run," Douma demanded as he handed Miku to her mother.

"You can't fight them off!" Kotoha cried, her face stern but her lip trembling.

He had merely smiled with his mask of a smile.

"I can buy you time," he had murmured back, softly breaking out of her grasp.

"I'll fight em' with you!!" Inosuke yelled in a challenge. Douma only rubbed his head and shook his head.

"You must protect your sister. Clear?" Douma asked softly, anything to get the boy to go with Kotoha.

Inosuke deflated and he stared up at Douma in puzzlement. "Yeah... until you get back."

"Good," Douma nodded.

"Once you beat them, you'll come to find us, right?" Mirakuru asked, fearfully looking up at her father.

Douma reached and rubbed her hair as well.

"Of course," he nodded. He opened his hand and an ice lotus former, much to Mirakuru's delight. "Hold on to that until I get back, alright?" the demon chuckled upon seeing the joy in his daughter's face.

Mirakuru grabbed the ice lotus and nodded, "I will! I promise!"

He then looked to Kotoha, he cupped her face and pressed his forehead against hers as she held back a sob and looked up at him with those large pleading eyes. But she didn't say another word. She was strong in that way and Douma wished he could hold a sliver of that strength that resided in her eyes. They had fled and Douma was forced to ignore the pain in his chest. He couldn't identify this feeling when it came, it was simply a pain in his chest as he watched them go for what he feared was the last time.

And so there he was, sensing two great enemies grow closer like stalking wildcats and all he could do was stand, wait, and breathe. A few minutes later, two figures emerged from the forest, the opposite way that Kotoha and the kids had fled.

Douma's face fell back into its fake smile as he opened his fans and turned to face his foes. Time. They needed time. As much time as he could manage. Kotoha was clever, she'd find a way to hide them. She'd find a way to escape, she just needed time.

"Kokushibo-chan! Akaza-San!" Douma greeted with fake joy. "What brings you here?"

"Your insolence," Kokushibo answered darkly drawing his sword. Akaza said nothing but glared at Douma.

"Oh?" Douma faked confusion. "Then I guess we're not buddies anymore?"

"Give us the hybrid child, and come willingly," Kokushibo ordered. "Master may have mercy on you."

"Oh, you poor thing," Douma sighed in empty pity. "You really haven't figured it out."

"I shall give you one chance, and then I shall strike you down," Kokushibo threatened. Douma saw his sword and knew it wasn't an empty threat.

Douma's eyes darkened and he lunged for Kokushibo, his golden fans flashing as they went for his neck. Kokushibo's sword moved just as quickly and was barely blocked by a fan that sent sparks flying in the darkness, like fiery stars. Kokushibo backed away and Douma turned his attention to Akaza, an ice attack flying outward, forcing the Upper Moon back as he defended himself. Kokushibo slashed outward with his sword, an attack that Douma dodged with ease. He had a bit more trouble dodging the punch of air that struck his shoulder and sent him skidding backward; Akaza's work.

"What would happen should he actually gain perfection?" Douma asked his old comrades as he steadied himself.

The only answer he got was Akaza flying for him. The two exchanged blows until Douma's fans caught on Akaza's neck and sliced his head off. Douma then lost an arm as Kokushibo's sword flew. He had to act quickly. He had to be quicker! Time - they needed time! Douma put one fan in his mouth and picked up the other with his free hand as his arm regrew.

The fight was already taxing and dawn was still hours away. Douma felt panic seize his chest... was this what humans thought when they realized they had no chance at life? Was this how every demon slayer he'd killed had felt mere seconds into their fight?

Dammit, he needed time!

"I've had emotions for but a few years and I have already seen the truth of our lives. You two had held emotions for years and yet somehow you are blind to it!" Douma accused the two demons once his arm regrew and he could take the fan from his mouth.

Blows were exchanged again. Ice attacks flew outward to be cut apart or smashed. Sword, fan, and fist clashed in a whirlwind of attacks. Dust flew, trees fell, and by the end of it the ground was saturated with demon blood and covered in frost.

Douma tried. He took every opportunity he could, slashing, scratching, even biting if it came down to it, and hey - it made Akaza back off for a second as his fingers regrew and he looked at the demon in disgust. Whatever worked, Douma was willing to do it. He winced as Kokushibo nearly sliced him in half, twisting out of the way just in time so the attack only caught one of his legs and sent him to his knees.

Time. He needed more time.

Kokushibo was holding back - that much was obvious. Muzan must want him alive. Akaza also seemed to be hesitating - which meant Muzan really wanted him alive. But how to abuse that? How to capitalize on Muzan's vindictive nature? How far could he push it before either demon decided their Master's punishment was worth Douma's death? He ducked before Kokushibo could take his head and caught the demon's wrist, slicing it apart with his fans as his legs regenerated. He panted and felt his body struggle to keep up with the strain. His stomach roared in starvation and his vision blurred for a terrifying moment. Still, he lunged and he fought.

The end of it came when Douma inevitably reached his limit.

He was kicked to the ground by Akaza where he was sent skidding across the forest floor. Douma trembled. The years of starvation were catching up to him, his regeneration, his strength, it was nowhere near his full power and now even his reserves were used up.

Kokushibo came from above. One of Douma's fans was kicked away while Kokushibo's foot pinned Douma's other hand down. Another foot was planted on Douma's chest and the flesh sword's tip was pressed against his throat.

"Master requires you to be brought back alive," Kokushibo stated simply, his six eyes holding no pity as he held his sword steady above Douma's neck.

Douma allowed the anger in his chest to erupt.

"Don't you see!?" he demanded to the Demon Moon above him. "If he eats Mirakuru and gains complete immortality he will have no more use for you!"

Nothing, there wasn't a flinch in Kokushibo's demeanor.

"We are nothing but dogs! Dogs that serve our Master and when our Master has no need for us, he will put us down!" Douma spoke in a tone that was unusual for him. It was passionate and desperate.

"We owe him our lives," Kokushibo reprimanded coldly.

"This is not life!" Douma hissed back with such certainty that Kokushibo's eyes widened, only slightly, but it was something!

"This! This is servitude!" Douma struggled with his words as he tried to convey what he knew. "Surely you see it. Surely you knew from the moment you entered into it. Surely you felt it. You felt it!"

There was no answer. Douma looked over to Akaza who stood by, watching.

"We are nothing to him and my fate is proof of that. What are my sins!? I loved? I felt?" Douma challenged.

"You struck out at him," Kokushibo sneered.

"HE WOULD'VE KILLED MY DAUGHTER!" Douma roared back, trying to rise.

Kokushibo's sword stabbed into his throat, forcing the demon back down as the sword silenced him. Blood poured out of the wound and trickled from Douma's lips as the demon gurgled.

"Akaza," Kokushibo ordered, looking to the demon a few feet away. Akaza was looking at Douma, strangely perhaps, but his gaze eventually met Kokushibo's.

"Yes?" the demon asked but Douma thought there was just a hint of a hesitation too long. There had been something in Akaza's eyes this entire fight and Douma was desperate to grasp at any chance he had.

"Find the hybrid girl Master desires. Kill the others," Kokushibo ordered.

"No," Douma rasped desperately, lunging for his fan. Kokushibo's sword was yanked out of his throat and flew again and Douma let out a hiss as he lost his hand. He was forced back to the ground by Kokushibo's foot and held there by the superior demon's strength, which broke his ribs and pierced his lungs heartlessly. Kokushibo looked back up to Akaza, questioning why the demon wasn't already gone.

"Go," Kokushibo ordered.

Akaza nodded, giving one last glance to Douma before taking chase. He did not miss the tears that seemed to be building up in the previous Upper Two's desperate eyes.

"No... no, PLEASE - PLEASE AKAZA!" Douma yelled after him, despite the wounds in his throat and the pain in his chest. He would grovel, he would beg. Anything, anything, please just give them more time! His voice rasped and gurgled as blood filled his lungs and throat, spitting out to the frosted ground as he screamed. "AKAZA!"

Kotoha wasn't sure what she could do or how she could help. She had felt hopeless from the moment Douma had been called to take Mirakuru to his Master... the hopelessness had only inflated from there.

She knew only one thing: No one would harm her children. Not while she still breathed. That was the truth she'd lived with for years and it didn't end now. Whether the threat was human or demon, it would have to take her first. So, when the pale demon with the blue stripes landed before her in a display of power and superiority, she didn't hesitate. Inosuke and Mirakuru were shoved behind her as she faced the demon with a hitched breath.

Akaza faced the woman and kept his gaze firm.

"Give me your daughter," Akaza ordered. "I will let you live."

Now, Akaza wasn't supposed to - but he didn't like the idea of slaughtering a woman merely because she was tied up with Douma's affairs. Akaza felt no joy in this fight. Kokushibo would understand and if he felt so bothered by it, Upper One could come to finish off the problem himself. The woman and her son's blood would not soil his hands.

"Where's Douma?" Kotoha demanded, her voice trembling as she was.

"Hand over your daughter and you and your son can live," Akaza sneered, impatience dripping off his tongue.

The offer didn't phase Kotoha. No. She could not trust this demon and she would not leave her daughter to his mercy. Was Douma already gone? Tears dotted her eyes but she pushed all fears aside. If he was gone then she was all her children had.

She could not falter. There was a determination in her stance that Akaza had seen before - but usually from arrogant slayers with steel between their fingers. Mirakuru clenched her mother's kimono desperately and squeezed her eyes shut. Inosuke was raging inside and wished more than anything that could do something.

"I will not ask again," Akaza snarled.

"Mama," Mirakuru whimpered, absolutely terrified. As she held her mother's kimono she also clenched the ice lotus her father had given her, feeling it starting to melt away in her hand.

"You stay away from my sister!" Inosuke yelled at the man trying to run forward. Kotoha held him back.

"You cannot have my children," Kotoha murmured, summoning what strength she held. "You have taken Douma but you will not take my daughter."

"Douma begged me to spare your life and I am doing so, do not tempt me," Akaza sneered. "I do not like killing women."

That sentence struck Kotoha and quite suddenly, she recalled the stories Douma had told her. He'd told her of all his colleagues, except his master. Kokushibo; the six-eyed ancient demon. There was a fish who loved pots. An old man who feared his past crimes. Two siblings. He'd tried to tell her everything but only one demon had held such a staunch honor code of his meals.

"Mama, I don't want to go," Mirakuru sobbed desperately.

"We ain't gonna let you go!" Inosuke swore to his sister. "The stripey bastard's gonna have to get through me first!"

"You're Akaza, right?" Kotoha asked slowly, watching the demon's eyes narrow. Tears leaked from her eyes as grappled with the idea that Douma was already... surely not. It didn't matter, if he was gone she had to mourn later. She stayed upright as her chest screamed. She had to stay upright. She had to keep her children alive, no matter the consequences.

"How would you know?" Akaza asked cautiously.

"You let Douma go once," Kotoha pleaded, begging to find some soul in the monster before her. "You saved him and my daughter once!"

"I stood aside," Akaza corrected with a snarl. "I didn't know better..."

"Then stand aside again!" Kotoha begged as large tears fell from her face. "Of all the Demon Moons, Douma said you possessed the largest heart so I beg of you, please... please let my family live!!"

Akaza sneered and went into a fighting stance. 'Largest Heart'... it almost made him sick. Not as sick as the thought of killing a woman. Killing a child. He had few morals left in this cursed existence but Muzan had always respected his decision to abstain from some meals. Now... now though he had orders - explicit orders. He couldn't turn a blind eye and turn up empty-handed.

But his mind hurt. His memories, blurry and sharp, ripped into him like the slice of a whip, the beatings, the pain as they held down his wrist and tattooed the symbol of his crime on his wrist. He looked at Kotoha and he saw something in her eyes. Something he'd seen before...

A terrible, reluctant acceptance. An acceptance of her own fate. He'd helped someone like that... he'd hated that look in her eyes. Like she knew there was no recovering from this, but she refused to roll over and die. She refused to let life be stolen from her...

Akaza blinked and the image was gone. Koyuki...

Akaza looked back to Kotoha as stood between him and her children. He looked into those large green eyes that held that same look Akaza had seen so long ago: she didn't think she was going to survive.

"I won't enjoy this," Akaza warned her... as if that was any consolation.

Kotoha choked on a sob and fell to her knees, holding her children close. What could she do? Where could she run, all around her was thick shrubbery and trees. Hiding was a doubtful option. Mirakuru lost it upon seeing her mother fall to her knees and began wailing as she hugged her mother in fear.

"PAPA!" she screamed as she looked at Akaza in terror. "PAPA HELP!!"

Inosuke grabbed a stick from the ground and held it. He was a child of eleven but he would not go down without a fight. Not that he could do much with his mother hugging him like this -

Akaza clenched his jaw and tried to tell himself to move. Lunge. Kill. Do his job. Then a voice rang out in his mind. A desperate, terrified voice:

'We are nothing but dogs! Dogs that serve our Master and when our Master has no need for us, he will put us down!'

Douma struggled as Kokushibo's sword plunged into his neck again.

"Stop resisting. There is nothing you can do," Kokushibo growled to the pinned demon.

Douma shuddered.

Had Akaza caught up to them already? Was he too late!? He had to escape. He had to save them!

"You will die for what you have done," Kokushibo growled.

Douma looked up at him with certainty. Rage and grief roared in his head and he found nothing would bring him more relief than tearing this demon apart.

"Then I'll meet you in hell when our Master sends you there," Douma growled with centuries of loathing behind it blood bubbling out with those words.

Kokushibo went to snarl a response but before he could, he looked up, sensing something. That something raced up on the duo and kicked Kokushibo away with the full force of over three hundred years of martial arts experience. Kokushibo flew off of the mountain, landing somewhere below throwing up a huge amount of dirt and breaking a few trees.

Douma looked up at his savior and his eyes widened. Akaza was glaring down at him.

"The hell is wrong with you? Get up. We're leaving," Akaza growled turning on his heel and running the way he had come. Douma got up and immediately stumbled, his power wanting. Akaza glance back and cursed.

The pale demon ran back and threw Douma over his shoulders.

"Akaza?" Douma questioned as he was carried like a sack of potatoes. This was... not how he expected this evening to go.

"We don't have any time for you to act like a pitiful weakling. If you want to survive we will have to outrun Kokushibo and we'll be traveling with cargo. Hurry up and heal so you can run!"

As he said that, Akaza took off into the woods.

"Why?" was all Douma could ask as the world passed him in a blur.

"I will be the strongest," Akaza vowed in a growl. "I cannot prove I am strong if you're dead. You are my rival who I swore I would one day best. This... this is not besting you."

Douma said nothing, he wasn't going to push for the truth when it was a miracle he was still alive.

Akaza skidded to a halt and put him down.

"Douma!" "Dad!" "DADDY!" familiar voices cried. Douma looked in unmeasurable joy at his children who ran at him. Inosuke barreled into him first, jumping and wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Mirakuru came next and she threw herself into Douma's outstretched arms. Kotoha came next and she wrapped her arms around the demon and smiled, clearly relieved.

"You're okay," Douma breathed as he relished in their scents. "You're all okay..."

"You're okay!" Kotoha laughed and god Douma loved that laugh.

"They won't be after Kokushibo catches up to us," Akaza snapped, breaking up the reunion. "We have to go. Now!"

Douma nodded as he looked at Akaza. He stood up, still somewhat weak. He put a hand on Akaza's shoulder and genuinely smiled thankfully.

"Thank you, Akaza," Douma murmured.

Akaza huffed and glared at him. "Can you pick up them all or do you need me to carry them, you weak fuck!?"

Douma chuckled and nodded, looking to his family.

"I am well enough," he nodded. "But first... you need to drink my blood."

Akaza gawked: "I think I would literally rather walk in the sun - "

"If you don't, he will drag you back to the infinity fortress and slaughter you. Drink it," the demon urged as he offered his bloodied arm.

Akaza sneered, glancing from the humans to the demon. He sighed, looked to the stars, and then looked back.

"Don't make me regret this Douma," he muttered.

"Never, dear buddy," Douma grinned. Akaza almost punched him again.

Kokushibo raced up the mountain and snarled. The demons were already fleeing and Kokushibo doubted he could catch up. Akaza was one of the quickest demons and Douma... though weak, Douma was still plenty fast. There was also the issue of whether he could kill them or absorb them in a reasonable time without the other intervening. Douma he could deal with. Both, he could probably still deal with, but it would be messy and risky. He wasn't much of a fan of such risks.

Now, Kokushibo was faced with a dilemma. Pursue the demons pointlessly or report to Muzan and suffer the inevitable wrath. Muzan would want to know of such a development.

What the hell had possessed those two? First Douma, now Akaza!? Surely this was some sick joke. The Upper Moons hadn't changed ranks in decades and now two of them committed outright treason. This had to be a joke - a sick joke played by fate.

Muzan would not be pleased... he would not be pleased in the slightest.

Chapter Text

Wrath. Anger. Fury. Hatred.

It all filled Muzan to the brim in a broiling, simmering existence. He wanted to kill and destroy everything in his path. Everything, anything that dared stand in his way. And by that he meant Douma. The traitor who dared to stand and fight and draw his Master's blood - Muzan's sacred blood. The same blood he'd so benevolently bestowed on that disgusting worm and Douma had turned against it for a little mortal girl. A maggot in comparison to a god.

But his rage didn't stop there - couldn't stop there. Douma's betrayal made him want to tear the demon apart organ by organ and see how long it took for an emotionless fool to learn the true meaning of fear. Akaza... Akaza's betrayal made him want to raize the world to ashes and blood.

It was one thing for it to be Douma. It was one thing for Douma, the Upper Moon he had always hated, to betray him. Douma, who could get under everyone's skin like a writhing little worm with a demure smile and a filthy mind. Douma, who had only been good for his hunger and power - his inhumanity that allowed Muzan to stomach the Kizuki's god complex. Douma was no real loss of loyalty. But Akaza?

Akaza... Akaza had been loyal, stubborn, and had held a drive for strength. He'd always been true. He'd always obeyed. Muzan called, Akaza kneeled. Muzan pointed, Akaza killed. Those were things Muzan needed - no - those were things Muzan desired in a subordinate. A god did not need.

Why then, had he betrayed and deserted Muzan? Why had he joined up with the very demon who he despised? Akaza helping Douma? Such a thing was so inconceivable that Muzan couldn't wrap his head around it. It didn't just fail all reason - it was impossible! Gods themselves wouldn't be able to make the two of them get along! They'd been at each other's throats for centuries! But - reasoning was useless. It had happened and Muzan now had two immensely powerful traitors. The "why" and "how" couldn't matter anymore.

This... this was even worse than Tamayo. Suppose the two found Tamayo... suppose she was to test their blood and find a way to kill him. What if they had already found her (that would explain why he couldn't see through their eyes or drag them back. Why he couldn't snap his fingers and have the two writhing in agony, screaming for mercy they could no longer afford to buy). Tamayo would take them with open arms - no matter how much time passed he knew her too well. She'd grin with those sharpened teeth, eyes gleaming with an old hunger. Because those two were Muzan's trusted, just as she once had been, and look at the chaos she'd wrought all alone. With Douma? With Akaza? No, that could not happen! That cannot happen!! He would not allow it.

What demons could Muzan send to kill them? They were two of his strongest! How could he stop this!?

Kokushibo was a force to be reckoned with, but could he stop both of them? Could he snatch the hybrid child? Could he risk them infecting Kokushibo with whatever moral stupidity had overtaken both of them!?

No. If Upper One was allowed to use his full strength, he'd defeat the fools, but there was no way they'd avoid detection. And having the slayers turning their attention to Muzan now? God, it was all so annoying! Those two were strong enough - fast enough - that Muzan himself would have to be involved himself to ensure victory... but surely Akaza and Douma knew that. Surely they expected him to show himself, they were many things but neither of them was a fool. They would have a plan.

If he wasn't careful he'd walk into a trap... He could stop both of them in their tracks, of that he was certain. But he'd been certain that Akaza was loyal. He'd been certain that Douma's pet humans had been just that; measly pets. He'd been certain and now he was paying for it. If he wasn't cautious... if he wasn't careful...

Muzan hissed and in his bloodlust and rage grew. Someone had to pay. Someone had to be punished! Someone!

The demon lord's blood pounded in his ears and his fingers thrummed with uncontrolled anger. He stalked the streets of a city, until he found himself a meal to drag into the fortress... one that screamed and begged. One that gave to his whims as all mortals do - as all eventually do. Once that human was dead and devoured, scores of others followed. The blood soothed Muzan's anger as his hunger was quenched and watching mere mortals contort in fear and agony at his whim was enough to calm the fury that resided in his eyes.

That's right, he was all-powerful. He was near-perfect. He would make those two rue the day they'd fallen from grace. The blood on his hands and lips ensured his strength.

When it was done and only the carnage remained, Muzan summoned Nakime and had her send Kokushibo. The one constant that Muzan was certain would never sway (but certainty was a fickle thing as of late).

"Master," Kokushibo bowed. He was tense - he expected his lord to scold him. Muzan chuckled as he wiped the blood off his lips - always such a perfectionist. It was why he liked his Upper One: yes, him losing Akazan and Douma was inexcusable but... Muzan had to keep loyalties close. Douma and Akaza were terrible threats to his existence and should demons start turning to those two... Muzan would face a terrible threat.

Kokushibo was his favored - and he needed the demon to remember that. The demon lord approached his subordinate, the floors beneath them both stained with fresh crimson that exhilarated their senses. Hunger. Death. Power. That was their calling as young deities. If Muzan was a god then Kokushibo was his disciple - and even the strongest gods needed some believers.

"Thank you for your loyalty, Kokushibo," Muzan told the demon. Of all the pawns he held, Kokushibo was one of his most favored, and Muzan would not lose him to the temptation of rebellion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Muzan may even consider Kokushibo the closest thing he had to a partner. He was powerful, staunch, full of fortitude and loyalty. He must be kept close. He must be.

"Master?" Kokushibo questioned. His thoughts were always open for Muzan's prying - never hiding. He was confused - his shame melting into distrust of such blatant admiration. It was... rare for the demon lord to be kind, to anyone, especially after they failed. Muzan only wiped his hands on his coat and smiled as he gestured for Kokushibo to rise. Rise from the bloodied floor - there was work to be done.

He needed demons he could trust close to him and would cull the rest. It was time to cleanse his ranks.

"This scenario has shown me that loyalty in my ranks is weak... Yet, I fear no such betrayal from you," Muzan explained, a gentle smile on his face. It was a familiar tactic, it was the same one the demon lord used on that young fool, Daki. Compliments were meant to soothe Kokushibo's ruffled feathers. Upper One knew the tactic too and was not so easily soothed: He'd failed and that was unforgivable. He'd work harder to make up for such mistakes. His thoughts vowed it.

"So... what are your wishes?" Kokushibo asked. Muzan's false smile turned into a true one full of malice as he regarded his favored demon. Upper One: always one to get right to the point.

Muzan looked away from the demon and instead stared out over the Infinity fortress and narrowed his eyes. "I will have no more rebellions. Akaza and Douma will suffer greatly for what they have done but before I can inflict pain on them, I must ensure that my ranks are full of nothing but fortitude and loyalty. Do you understand?"

"You wish to test the other moons?" Kokushibo asked.

"Yes," Muzan growled. "Not just the moons but all demons. Every insect and lowly worm must know I am their god. They will fear me but most importantly they will worship me. If they do neither, we kill them and start over."

It would be difficult and most lowly demons would likely fall through the cracks but it was doubtful such weak specimens would be able to do anything if they rebelled. It was doable though... and Muzan ordered it, so it must be done. That was Kokushibo's strength - in his simplicity.

"That sounds prudent, my lord," Kokushibo nodded.

"Yes..." Muzan trailed off wistfully, "I know."

It came as no surprise that Gyokko and Hantengu were loyal. Gyokko was too vain and stupid to be much else and Hantengu was petrified of the demon lord. The lower moons were loyal... but they were also weak.

Kamanue, Lower Six, was too rebellious in his thoughts. The young demon was slaughtered immediately. Muzan would not let such rebels stew in his home. He'd learned that lesson twice now and would not be learning it again.

Rui, Lower Five, showed no fear and merely accepted the fact that if he was to die it would be by Muzan's hand. The boy lived and Muzan spared a few soft words to encourage a stauncher loyalty. He'd always been a familiar boy - a cruel one. Perhaps Muzan could make something great out of him yet if the boy's meager power ever found a breakthrough.

Mukago, Lower Four, begged and groveled for her life, pledging absolute loyalty and swearing nothing else. She lived. Muzan could live with cowards

Wakuraba, Lower Three, tried to save his own skin. He was struck down mercilessly for his cowardice and rebelliousness. If they did not care for Muzan above all else - they were no disciples of his.

Rokuro, Lower Two, made the mistake of trying to beg Muzan for blood to prove his strength. He too was reduced to a stain of crimson on the floor.

Enmu, Lower One, was the perfect example of what Muzan desired. A devoted servant who served with suicidal loyalty. He lived without question. If only his demon art was practical, Muzan would've made him a replacement upper moon, but alas, the demon was only good as a human killer and would be a laughing stock if he rose any higher. A dreamer? As Akaza's replacement? Muzan had no interest in making a fool of himself any further.

Once the lower moons were dealt with, Muzan went on to the last and final of the twelve Kizuki, a pair he'd saved for last because, if he was honest, they were the most likely to leave him. His dark intentions glimmered in his eyes at the thought of those two writhing beneath him. He would cull the weak and purge the traitors. Their screams would be music to his ears.

But. But. It wouldn't do to kill them just because he wanted to. No matter how badly he wanted to. His ranks were weak. He needed to be prudent.

A test, perhaps? A true cleansing.

"Gyutaro," Muzan murmured, summoning the final demon he would test personally.

Gyutaro knelt before him, alone as Muzan had requested. Muzan glared down at the true Upper Moon Six and bit back a snarl. Gyutaro could be so much more if he released his pointless devotion to his sister. Misled devotion was what had torn Douma away from his loyalty... Muzan would not let it happen again.

"Yes, master?" Gyutaro answered evenly, his eyes glued to the ground as he bowed.

"Are you loyal to me?"

Gyutaro looked up, panic apparent on his face, singing in his mind. "Of course, Master Kibutsuji! I am your loyal servant!"

A well-rehearsed answer.

"And yet, you owe your life to Douma?" Muzan mused, softly.

Gyutaro looked down and made no response. It was true, which only made Muzan want to wring the boy's throat. Duoma had saved his and his sister's life all those years ago. The demon king sunk his claws into the demon's mind and searched for those lingering loyalties - anything he could use as an excuse - no - no, as a reason.

The news of the Upper Moon's betrayal had come as a shock but Gyutaro had never really known the man. There was no kinship, no loyalty. Perhaps there was the smallest hint of gratitude that bloomed on cold nights but it was easily squashed beneath Gyutaro's heel. Douma was beautiful, privileged, wonderfully perfect and Gyutaro envied him so heavily he had often imagined ripping the bastard's eyes out and squishing them between his fists; Ruining that perfect stupid face. Oh, the envy...

There was no loyalty to Douma.

"I... I have no other reason to know him. Besides, to follow him would be death. Everyone knows what you're planning to do to him. I would not betray you, Master," Gyutaro spoke truthfully.

Muzan's eyes narrowed. "Are you willing to prove it?"

"Anything," Gyutaro nodded eagerly. He didn't see the glimmer of cruelty in Muzan's eyes.

"Do you know why Douma betrayed me?" Muzan asked softly.

"... No."

"He claimed it was in the name of love. That he loved his family more than he loved me," Muzan continued, there was fury in his voice he didn't both to hide. "He couldn't bear the thought of his mortal family dying for my passage into perfection."

Gyutaro's heart leaped into his throat, constricting him in fear as he started to put two and two together. Forsaking the idea that Douma had loved (no way in hell), Gyutaro knew enough to read the room. He had been called here alone, without Daki, which was strange in itself. Muzan was questioning his loyalty. Not Daki's. He was asking him to prove himself. Not Daki.

She'd been so jealous. She worshipped Muzan and had pouted when Gyutaro had to come alone.

Tell me how gorgeous he looks, I hear he's taken a new form. You just have to tell me Gyutaro! Oh, why didn't he call for me? That's so unfair! Unfair! Unfair! You have to tell me everything!! she had begged of him but as Gyutaro tried to take in Muzan's form, all he could do was feel sick.

"You are a smart man," Muzan approved of the panic rampant in the boy's mind, raging towards a precipice. "Do you understand what I'm asking of you?"

Gyutaro's throat was dry. His heart was thumping in his chest and he was trembling.

"Prove to me I have no reason to challenge your loyalty. Kill your sister," Muzan ordered coldly.

"D-Daki is one with me, lord... I-I don't know how I could - how I could possibly - " Gyutaro began desperately. He was shaking - he hadn't felt such fear for a long long time. Not Daki. Please, please she was just his stupid little sister! She wasn't -

What a pathetic stream of thought.

"It's very simple, really."

Gyutaro looked up at his master, recognizing the dangerous look in his eyes. Go ahead, Gyutaro: argue. Deny your god. Fail. If Muzan could not rip Douma apart, perhaps one of his turned would satiate the demon lord's bloodlust.

"Take your sister. String her up in a courtyard. Leave her there for the sun to deal with. Sever yourself from her and grow into what I need you to become." Muzan explained coldly.

Gyutaro shuddered at the thought... what choice did he have? If he refused... he and Daki would die anyway. Little stupid, beautiful perfect damned Daki would die either way...

Muzan's eyes narrowed. The boy was considering doing it. A part of Muzan was disappointed. That disappointment gave way to relief. Gyutaro would finally rid himself of his stupid sister and could read his full potential. He would prove himself a loyal demon and Muzan would have at least one demon to replace the two he had lost.

"I-I will do it," Gyutaro murmured, the words almost choking him.

"We will see," Muzan growled. "Do so and return to me when it is done. Do so, and I will reward you, handsomely. If you fail and you betray me... you will suffer a terrible fate. You and your sister both."

"I... I won't."

"We shall see."

Muzan's threat hung with Gyutaro all the way back to the Red Light District. It danced in the air with the laughs of the oirans. It settled deep in his gut as he slowly pushed into Daki's room, slipping in through the window.

"You could knock," she reprimanded immediately, not even turning to see him. It made the sickles in Gyutaro's hands heavier as he realized she wouldn't even know what hit her. She was oblivious to his intentions, as always, and was fussing with her hair, insistent that she looks her best. She never had to change much, she was always the prettiest in the room, clearly, but still, she tried. She always tried.

"So, Master had nothing to say then? Was he really as pretty as those demons said in that new form? How'd he wear his hair?" Daki asked as she pulled her hair up, struggling with a few strands. Usually, this would be when Gyutaro intervened and tried to help. This would be when his fingers wrapped around hair, not weapons. She'd laugh at his poor handiwork, but she wouldn't fix it, and then would repay the favor by braiding some of Gyutaro's hair and promising to fetch him the best meal. Lure in the prettiest, loudest sort of asshole who'd scream and beg, and they'd laugh as they shared.

Gyutaro tried to make himself do it. He tried to lunge forward and decapitate Daki. Tried to tell himself that it was for the best. He would drag her to the courtyard and tie her down, pin her with his scythes. Wrestle her in ribbon form until she couldn't split anymore. Until she was too weak to reform. She would never forgive him, but Muzan would be happy, and he would live...

He would live without her.

It struck him like a lightning bolt. He had no purpose without his sister. She was all he had left, she was all he had ever had. Thinking of her dying reminded him of cold nights, with Daki's soft hands nursing painful wounds. Her beautiful face pulled up in a smile as she stared at him. Her face was a mess of charcoal and embers when he found her in a ditch... His Daki, burned alive and barely breathing for taking out a samurai's eye because the man had insulted Gyutaro. Everything she'd done in life she did for Gyutaro. Everything she risked in life she'd done for him. He'd nearly watched her die once in the fire. Not again. Never again!

Daki was taken by surprise when her brother suddenly hugged her from behind.

"Gyutaro, what's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head as she looked back at him. She didn't even glance at the scythes in Gyutaro's hands. She was so stupid. So trusting! Stupid! Stupid! He didn't deserve her! She trusted him too much! What an idiot!

"Stop it! You're going to mess up my hair!" she cried.

He squeezed her and hissed in her ear, "We have to run."

This was it. He was betraying Muzan. He was going to die.

From afar, Muzan hissed. He had spoken too soon, the boy didn't have a strong enough constitution.

Gyutaro was betraying him. What a pity. It seemed he'd be able to satiate some bloodlust after all.

He immediately willed the boy back. He looked through his eyes and imagined pulling both of those brats close enough to end them himself! He imagined sinking his claws into the blood granted to those brats and pulling them back to infinity fortress. Nakime strummed her biwa and Muzan waited to feel their will bend to his whim. They'd appear at his feet. Daki would run, Gyutaro would fight. He'd kill Gyutaro first, make that brat watch as he disposed of the only strength she had. Maybe he'd let the sun take Daki - she did so fear the fire. Maybe he'd let Gyutaro live and make him watch her burn first!

He salivated at the thought as the biwa strummed.

Nothing.

Silence...

What?

The blood in the moons wouldn't obey. For a moment, all Muzan knew was panic.

Why!? Had he grown weaker - could he not pull them both - had he...

No... No, he knew that feeling. He tried to pull deeper into the siblings and felt something in their blood revolt against him; Douma's blood.

All these years later and that demon's blood still sat in Upper Six's bodies. It was still a part of Douma and it changed as he did. Whatever Douma had done to himself to resist Muzan now lay dormant in Gyutaro and Daki. Whatever protected Douma activated in the sibling's bodies and Muzan felt fear strike him pure and true.

That would mean any demon who Douma had changed would be immune to Muzan's whims. That would mean any demon Douma did turn would be immune. An army of demons could rise and Muzan would have no control... No... NO! Muzan felt his chest close around his still heart and he screamed.

"KOKUSHIBO!" his voice roared and that scream resonated in the head of every demon in a fifty-mile radius.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The two fled the Red-Light District as fast as demons could, Gyutaro explaining everything. Daki's eyes were wide and once the story was over she cursed Muzan out in every filthy and vulgar way she could. It was almost impressive, how quickly her idolization of the man turned into disdain. Had any other demon sprouted such words, Daki would've sneered and turned them into a stain but she trusted Gyutaro more than anything and if he said Muzan wanted them dead then Muzan wanted them dead.

"I can't believe him! Me!? I thought he liked me!" Daki whined.

"I don't think he likes anyone," Gyutaro hissed as they darted over the streets. Had Muzan not realized their treachery... they hadn't been dragged back yet...

"What a bastard! Me!? He wanted you to kill me! What a prick!! That's so mean! That's so wrong! I did everything he asked! I made myself prettier! I learned how to kill to make him proud! I - I did everything!"

"He thought we would join up with Douma!" Gyutaro hissed.

"Why?! We were loyal!! You hate that guy!"

"Because he's paranoid! Now shut up and run!"

"Don't snap at me you fuck! Don't be mean!"

Unfortunately, the two met with a hurdle in their escape; Kokushibo.

"Master expected your insolence," the six-eyed demon stated simply. He was growing quite tired of chasing run-away demons. "So... you must die."

The two faced him on the outskirts of the Red-Light district and watched in horror as he drew his sword. Gyutaro's mind raced and he felt his gut plunge. Not Upper One, it could only have been worse if Muzan himself showed up. Why hadn't Muzan shown up? Why hadn't they been dragged back to the Infinity Fortress!?

"What do we do?" Daki whined to her brother who was petrified. "Do you think that if Kokushibo's here, the bastard Muz-y can't pull us back? Do you think that was a lie too? Maybe he's not even that strong - "

"Do not speak such slander!" Kokushibo snapped.

"I'll curse out Muz-y all I want!" his brat of a sister snapped back and Gyutaro almost admired what Muzan would've called stupidity. Muzan...

As if Gyutaro knew why the hell they hadn't been dragged back kicking and scratching, it wasn't important and he really didn't care. With sickles and ribbons at the ready, the two prepared to fight. Daki was just barely trembling as her ribbons danced around her, a familiar look in her eyes that she'd learned from Muzan. Gyutaro's brow was furrowed as he rapidly created a plan to escape.

This was it... was this how they died!? Gyutaro looked between Daki and Kokushibo as a desperate sort of plan formed in his head.

"Daki," Gyutaro murmured. "Run."

Daki almost looked offended. "You run."

"Only one of us should face him at a time so that - " Gyutaro began to argue but Daki was already lunging at Kokushibo, her fears suddenly gone as she immediately understood.

"Good plan!" she cackled as she ducked under Kokushibo's first blow and struck out for his face. Her ribbons were extensions of herself that shielded her from the terrible sword blows and plunged themselves towards Upper One.

Damn it Daki, Gyutaro could've strangled her. But she'd made the decision and, trying not to feel like a coward, he ran, almost stumbling when he heard Daki scream in pain. But no... no, she would live if he lived. They could sprout from each other - that was their strength! They were not alone! They would not die!

Like a parasite, or perhaps a tumor, Gyutaro felt his back begin to bulge and, in only a moment, Daki was bursting from his spine, colored red from his blood and wearing a look of fear and fury. She abandoned her earlier body and doubtlessly it was turning to ash somewhere behind them.

"He killed me so fast!" she cried as she clung to Gyutaro's shoulders and pulled the rest of herself out of him, her ribbons curling around them both to shield them.

"Then you run, get some distance. I'll be useful," Gyutaro scowled as he readied his sickles.

Daki bit her lip but launched herself off Gyutaro's shoulders and continued fleeing as Gyutaro pivoted on his heel was immediately met with Kokushibo's furiously strong attack.

The sibling demons may have been the "mere" Upper Moon Six, but they had something on their side that Kokushibo did not; numbers. They were the only demon moons that were composed of two bodies, two demons, and two hearts. In that way, they had an advantage. No single thing could kill them if they were separated. As long as one lived, both would...

And to think, Gyutaro mulled scornfully, that Muzan dared call this connection weak.

As one sibling faced Kokushibo, the other fled. When the one facing Kokushibo was struck down, they merely sprouted from their sibling and continued running. Both had to be beheaded to permanently die and that meant that as long as one was running and one was fighting, they had a chance. Kokushibo killed them both hundreds of times over but that did not stop them.

They had always been good at running.

It came close, once.

Kokushibo's hand wrapped around Gyutaro's throat and pulled him back. A sword pinned him to the ground he slammed into.

"Enough of these games," Kokushibo snarled. "We will stand here until the sun rises and at least one of you will die."

"You filthy bastard!" Gyutaro spat as he tried to blind the demon with a scythe attack. Kokushibo didn't even flinch. And he wouldn't. He could pin Gyutaro here for eons, he could wait and Gyutaro wasn't hurt enough to abandon the body. There was no way he could reconnect with Deki. So then this was it. He would die here and -

"OFF MY BROTHER, YOU FUCKER!" Daki's scream accompanied a flood of ribbons that filled Gyutaro's vision. Her vicious surprise attack sliced through Kokushibo's defense. He stumbled and Gyutaro ripped himself free of the sword and the hand that held him still.

"Daki! You idiot!" Gyutaro cried as he took off running.

"You're welcome! Stop being mean!!" she was at his side, sending her ribbons behind them at their enraged pursuer.

"He can kill us both!" Gyutaro scolded as they both jumped to avoid one of Kokushibo's attacks of terrifying proportions. Trees fell, cut cleanly, and the siblings both ran.

"Next time I'll let you roast!" Daki rolled her eyes as she leaped to the tree branches above. It didn't help much when Gyutaro got decapitated but, as he pulled himself from Daki he did murmur a small thank you.

She only scoffed and the two of them kept running.

Even when the sun peeked over the hills and they recognized death, the two siblings didn't stop fleeing. Kokushibo finally relented, recognizing that he had failed. Gyutaro and Daki were now traitors... they would likely find Douma and Akaza. Muzan would not be pleased. Kokushibo cursed his inability. He was unbeatable in a fight, but as a hunter, he seemed poorly equipped... His skill was in proper fights, not these foolish games.

And like a coward, he had to duck away from the sun. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a familiar chuckle of his brother, taunting him still from the afterlife.

Gyutaro and Daki finally rested right when the rays of the sun threatened to brush their skin. They hunkered beneath the covered roots of a large tree - both of them digging deep into the root system (much to Daki's chagrin). Once they were safe, Daki curled up in her brother's arms and began to pick the dirt out of her nails. It was a familiar routine and left plenty of time for her mind to wander. It had been a shitty night. Betrayed by their own kind... where could they go? What the fuck was the plan now? What would happen when Kokushibo came for them again? When Muzan came for them?

She'd already thrown a small tantrum while they were digging this disgusting refuge out, cursing and damning Muzan as much as she could until her claws dug into her skin and her screams made her voice crack. Finally, she calmed down and sat next to Gyutaro... and she felt... warm... dirty, but warm.

Not like she was burning... just a gentle warmth. She wiped her eyes and looked at Gyutaro who eyed the sun rays at the entrance of their dug cave. He'd chosen her... he'd chosen her over Muzan. She hugged him. She studied his messy hair and hugged him. All that mattered was that they were together... but still... where would they go? What would they do?

"We're gonna find Douma," Gyutaro explained as if he read her mind. "See if we can tag along with someone stronger - give Kokushibo a reason to think twice before messing with us."

"Douma?" Daki questioned as she reached up and began picking branches out of Gyutaro's matted hair. "Why?"

"Because," Gyutaro shrugged. "He saved us once... if we're lucky, he'll do it again."

"But you heard the bastard Muzy; he's all soft now! Why can't we just go find a new place to live and eat?" she whined.

"And risk Master finding and killing us? No way, we're better off with a stronger, prettier, stupider demon to take the heat off of us," Gyutaro muttered. "Even if I hate his face."

"But it's Douma," Daki sighed. "What if the rumors are true and he doesn't eat people anymore? We'll starve!"

"It doesn't make me happy," Gyutaro growled. Daki looked up at him and smiled as she played with his low-hanging bangs.

"That's right, someone's jealous of that stupid clown," she teased as she paused her playing with his hair to poke his cheek.

"Douma's a prick... and a handsome one! Just thinking about his pretty little eyes makes me want to gouge them out and eat them!"

Daki stuck her tongue out at that visual - the bastard probably tasted g-r-o-s-s. "Then we don't go! I don't want to go anywhere if it makes you unhappy, you brat."

"You're the brat!"

"No - you!" Daki flicked Gyutaro's forehead for extra emphasis. "We don't go if you're unhappy."

"Then let's try and if he's a prick we leave," Gyutaro muttered. "We should still try. Or are you that much of an idiot?"

She puffed her cheeks and rolled her eyes as she sat up and began to braid his hair. Her fingers needed something to do - anything after the night they'd had. "Fine, but if we leave we should go far. Like... far, far."

"As far as you want..." Gyutaro nodded. "We'll go to the ends of the earth."

"Together," Daki stated.

"Of course, I'm stuck with you - you're like a parasite," Gyutaro snickered.

Daki gawked in shock and slapped her brother upside the head. "If anything you're the ugly parasite, you fuck! You'll be lucky if Douma's changed or else I'm going to make your life a living hell!"

"Oh, whatever will I do?" Gyutaro asked sarcastically. "My hellspawn of a sister threatens to be herself."

"FUCK YOU!"

Ah, if only Douma knew the chaos that was approaching. No, he was completely oblivious to the sibling's trial. As the sun rose his now nocturnal family retired to bed leaving him to contemplate other matters. He and Akaza sat in a windowless room of an inn as Kotoha and the rowdy kids began to settle down. They heard squealing as Inosuke tickled Mirakuru and Kotoha's soft yet firm order for them to go to bed.

"What's the plan from here?" Akaza asked, his arms crossed. His eyes now too dawned the large X's through them. Neither Demon tried to hide the scars carved into them, though they could.

Douma opened one of his fans and closed it again. He repeated the motion as he pondered their predicament. It was their second day on the run together an in all fairness the first day had been spent with as much space between the two demons as possible. It seemed Akaza had sacrificed personal space for strategy.

"We have no allies," Douma murmured. "He will kill us if he ever gets his hands on us and I doubt the demon slayers would be overjoyed to have us join their ranks."

Akaza scoffed at the thought. Douma understood the feeling: Demon Slayers. Those humans would attack before they could get a word in edgewise.

"But..." Douma continued. "He wouldn't be as eager to attack us if he thought we were working in tandem with the demon corps."

Akaza almost laughed. "That would be a wonderful idea. Greetings demon slayers, recognize me? Yes, I'm an Upper Moon, you know, one of those guys you've been trying to kill for centuries. Yes, I've eaten a bunch of you too! Man, you tasted great. How would you like to be buddies?"

"You would have to be more diplomatic for one thing. For another, I never said we'd actually be working with the demon slayer corps," Douma corrected Akaza, ignoring the demon's sarcastic tone.

"Then what do you mean?" Akaza asked in a growl.

"Kotoha and the kids would be safer among demon slayers," Douma pondered.

"They'd kill your daughter and you know it," Akaza scowled. "She's the one thing they've been fearing for years: a demon immune to the sun."

"She's not a demon," Douma hissed, his gaze darkening.

"They won't care," Akaza growled. "She's the secret to his immortality, at least he thinks so. The demon slayers will come to the same conclusion and kill her to keep her out of his hands. I don't think those humans are above killing innocents to keep him mortal."

Douma stared at his fans. "Then I don't know what to do. We can't go back to him and we can't find any help."

"We don't need help," Akaza sneered. "We're not weaklings. I doubt even Kokushibo could take us both on if you were at your best."

Douma wanted to argue that he'd never be at his best.

"So you need to eat," Akaza continued darkly.

"No."

Douma's answer was solid and firm, leaving no room for question. His fan snapped shut and the demon looked to Akaza, his rainbow eyes flickering with emotion - a sight that was still strange to Akaza.

Akaza's fist came quickly, it burst through Douma's chest, ripping through tissue and bone until it protruded from Douma's back. The demon let out a shocked gasp and looked to Akaza, betrayal lingering in his expression.

Akaza wore a look of indifference as he ripped his arm out of Douma's body, leaving the superior demon to lean back in his seat, holding his wound, still speechless. Damn, his blood was ruining the floor. How was he going to explain this to Kotoha?

"The Douma I knew wouldn't have flinched at that attack," Akaza growled, flicking the blood off his arm and growling.

Douma took deep breaths, finding that the wound healed faster when he did so. "Well that was rather rude..." he breathed.

"You're weak. Pitifully so," Akaza explained coldly. "If you want to stand a chance, you must feed. You have the entire demon race gunning for you and your humans."

Douma held his chest and let out a shaky breath.

"I..." he began.

"Don't say you can't," Akaza sneered. "I don't care how moral you think you are. I've watched you tear young women apart like they're wings off butterflies."

Douma looked down and stayed silent. He almost saw those eyes again... those girls in the closet... never again. Never again.

"If you don't eat... you'll be slaughtered the next time Kokushibo comes for us," Akaza growled. "Where would that leave your family then?!"

The two sat in silence, Akaza tapping his foot as he watched Douma think. Finally, with one less wound in his stomach and much thought, Douma sat up.

"Akaza..." Douma sighed after a few minutes, "Do you think hell exists?"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Akaza demanded.

"Well... I always assumed that heaven and hell were imagined objects of a human's mind, due to emotion and all that. And now I have emotion... so do you think heaven and hell exist?"

"How would I know!?"

"I was just wondering..." Douma murmured.

"Oh, please. What, you're scared of hell so you don't want to kill anyone?! Got some morality or something?" Akaza sneered. "Sorry, fucker, it's too late for both of us in that regard. We're so damned, hell's almost too high a place for us."

"Oh no, it's not that," Douma assured the other demon. "I just... if it does exist, I would hate it if Kotoha tried to follow me there."

Akaza narrowed his eyes.

"Are you kidding me!?" the pale demon demanded.

"No," Douma murmured. "If there's an afterlife, no matter what it is, if it exists I want to be there with Kotoha... which means I have to find a way to redemption."

Akaza rolled his eyes at the word 'redemption'.

"You still have to kill people," Akaza sneered.

"No," Douma smiled, putting on his familiar empty smile. "I won't. I have to stay strong, at least until I've kept Kotoha, Miku, and Inosuke safe. I will do many things Akaza but I will never eat flesh again. Never again."

Akaza scoffed. The two demons again fell into silence. Douma went back to opening and closing his fan while Akaza leaned back and stared into space.

"He knows we'll keep your family safe, especially the girl. He'll send demons after us and we'll slaughter them. Our best chance would be to stay on the move, keeping up our strength and searching for a way to kill him," Akaza explained. "That's impossible with flesh. We need blood to keep us strong."

Douma nodded, thinking. "We could eat the demons he sends our way. We'll survive off the scraps of Muzan's blood in those demons. There's plenty if we look hard enough."

Akaza stuck his tongue out in disgust but didn't object. A few moments passed by before Akaza sighed and looked at Douma again.

"There's another thing we need to discuss; what are you going to do about your... humans," Akaza asked, the tone of the conversation changing.

Douma looked to Akaza, puzzled: "What do you mean by that?"

Akaza rolled his eyes. "They're humans, what happens when they die?"

Douma blinked.

"What are we going to do in eighty years when they're dead and gone?" Akaza asked with a glare.

Douma thought for a moment, opening his fans slower this time.

"After they die... I find a way to retribution," Douma explained, his voice void of emotion. "Our first priority is keeping them safe and staying away from him. I want them to live. I want them to have a life, to be happy. I'd like it if they could live without fear and trouble. Once Mirakuru dies, and she will for she is human, he won't have any other reason to chase us except for the fact that we're criminals. It's then that I find out how a demon can atone for his sins."

"This again, atone? Douma... we're past atonement," Akaza scoffed.

"Perhaps," Douma murmured, staring at the floor. "But... if I can kill him... perhaps that'll count for something..."

Akaza almost laughed at that. "Well... if there are gods somewhere, I'm sure they'll appreciate it if we kill that devil."

"Perhaps," Douma shrugged.

"Dad?" a voice asked from the doorway tearing the two away from their conversation. Inosuke stood there looking at the two demons.

"Yes, Inosuke?" Douma asked sweetly, in a tone Akaza almost punched him for. It was still offsetting to hear the man all paternal-like. "What are you doing awake?"

"Mama and Miku are sleeping but I've gotta talk to you," Inosuke explained curtly.

"About what?" Douma asked.

Inosuke walked over and sat down in front of the two. "I wanna learn how to fight."

"Oh."

"You guys are demons, so you're really strong. I wanna learn how to fight so I can fight demons. That way I can protect Mama and Miku."

"Inosuke... Demons are - "Douma began.

"You'll have to train to death, weakling, and it'll take years for a scrawny human like you to be a good fighter" Akaza growled. Now it was Douma's turn to almost punch Akaza, the smile didn't leave his face though (it was trying, it was very trying).

Inosuke? Fighting demons? Absolutely not.

"I can do it," Inosuke grinned.

"Yeah?" Akaza sneered. "Not likely."

"Yeah!" Inosuke nodded eagerly, jumping to his feet in a challenge. "Inosuke will be the best! No one will be able to hurt me!! I'll eat demons for breakfast!"

Then, Akaza laughed. It was a condescending one, but it still showed that the demon was entertained. It was different from his usual arrogant cackle.

"I like you're fighting spirit," Akaza jeered.

"So I'll learn how to kill demons!" Inosuke asked eagerly. "I will be the best!"

Douma looked at Akaza and Akaza looked at him with a shit-eating grin that was beyond dangerous - it was infuriating.

"We'll see Inosuke," was all Douma managed.

"We'll see what you have brat!" Akaza smiled wickedly. "We'll make a fighter out of you yet."

Dear heavens. Douma was going to have to kill Akaza. He was, wasn't he?

Chapter Text

Akaza was different.

Douma wasn't going to say a word about it because that difference had saved him from death, but it was still strange. The ex-upper moon was... tame.

Still angry and bristling, of course, but calmer, perhaps even somber. Douma struggled to place it. The demon had changed on a coin flip and had hardly fought Douma over... anything. Even abstaining from human flesh - Akaza had relented and agreed to it for now. That - and Akaza hadn't made a single overly cruel remark to Inosuke who literally hadn't shut up about learning how to fight since their last conversation. Akaza's patience was usually razor-thin (at least as long as Doma had known him), and now the demon didn't even bash his head in when Douma slipped back into his mask of false emotions.

But Douma wasn't going to say a word...

But Akaza also said thank you to Kotoha when she held the door open for him. When did Akaza thank anyone?

Okay... so maybe Douma was going to say something about it. It would be bad for him to ignore sudden emotional changes in his... teammate. Were they teammates? Allies?... Buddies? No. Not buddies. Who knew anymore?

ANYWAY.

They'd fled and found refuge in an old cottage that was likely once lived in by someone with plenty of money, but not at the moment and if the owners came back well, what could a human do? As night fell the family had awoken and Inosuke had bounded into the woods, set on exploring - Miku was on his heels. Akaza, meanwhile, had strayed over to a bench that overlooked a small koi pond and was finding some sort of delight in throwing small air attacks into the water by flicking his finger and scaring the fish.

Douma was torn between following Inosuke and Miku, just to make sure they didn't find some bear to fight, or speaking with Akaza, who was probably worse than the bear. He almost went after the kids until he saw Kotoha jog into the woods, her kimono was traded in for a baggy pair of pants and a shirt swiped from the house's unguarded drawers. The clothes were too big for her but she'd made do and had her hair tied back. Douma felt a subconscious smile pull at his lips to see her like that, all ready to take on the world with a soft smile on her face. Well, then if Kotoha was going to take on the possible bear... he'd take the other problem. He gently approached Akaza, keeping his feet heavy so the demon would hear his approach.

"How are you doing?" Douma asked, and he tried to remember how to be sincere. He lowered his voice, spoke slower, raised his eyebrows, and let a natural frown take over his face. He tried to let his concern translate - it was hard, with someone who'd known him to hide behind a mask for long. It was hard as half the time he couldn't tell when he was faking - when was he trying too hard? When was he being sincere? It only became more muddled with Akaza who knew his old habits like a nasty scar.

"We're fugitives, we have nowhere to go, nothing to fall back on, and your genius plan has us starving until we waste away and get dragged back to his feet. How do you think I'm feeling?" Akaza growled back. Douma saw the way the striped demon bristled and he tried to read the emotion in those yellow eyes; he failed unsurprisingly.

"Well - we have each other!" Douma smiled instinctively. Then he realized the mask of a smile had come back on and he quickly wiped it away.

"Yeah - what a joy," Akaza sneered.

Douma clenched his jaw as he tried to think about what to say next. Conversation was complicated when you were trying to think about other people's emotions; overly so.

"May I... could I ask a question, Akaza?" Douma asked gently as he sat next to the demon.

"No."

The fish all raced away as another attack splashed into the pond.

"Why did you help me?" Douma asked anyway. He then studied Akaza's reaction, the way the demon tensed and flexed his fingers; like he was holding back a punch.

"Like I told you," Akaza bit, but he refused to meet Douma's eyes. "I can't best you if you're dead. There's no victory for me if - "

"No," Douma denied brightly - dammit the mask came on too easily when Akaza was around. It was like second nature for Douma to wear it, it was the only way he knew how to communicate. He had to stop it. He had to be sincere. "No," he stated again, seriously - softly even.

There was no response to that and Douma let out a small sigh. They sat in silence a few moments longer until Akaza finally broke it.

"Why are you so damn interested?" he snarled. "Can't you just be grateful and leave me alone?"

"I am, grateful that is," Douma answered. "I don't know what would've happened had you not... if you hadn't, Kotoha and the kids would've... I don't know what I would've done. And I am grateful. I'm just... confused. Happy, but confused."

Akaza clenched his jaw and his fists. Douma watched it all and he wondered if there was something he was supposed to say next. Something he was supposed to do to ease the tension building on Akaza's brow.

There wasn't... it seemed to fall away all on its own.

"I... remember..." the demon murmured. Douma perked up and felt something strange pull at his lips.

"Remember?"

"I had a different name..." the demon murmured, looking at the blue stripes around his wrist. "A life... a reason for being marked with stripes."

"We all came from somewhere," Douma nodded, thinking of his old life. He hadn't ever forgotten it, he had just never really cared for it.

"But I had forgotten it..." Akaza breathed. "I forgot why I hated weaklings and cowards. I forgot what I was taught and I was forced to forget. Those people, those things - they were taken from me."

There were things hanging on those words that Douma couldn't place. Emotions that felt so deep and heavy that they made even his shoulders ache. He couldn't think of a time when Akaza's eye's had looked so conflicted.

"Do you want to talk about - "

"No," Akaza hissed. "You asked and I'm telling. I hate our master because he made me forget. He made me forget people I swore I'd honor... and instead, I've sullied their name... I've tainted the very strength I was taught. The fault is mine... but I have to atone for it and as you said, the only answer is taking out the bastard who twisted me into this. If you're living without tasting human flesh I can too, I will too. I don't think we can ever atone - but if you of all demons can be better, then you better damn bet I can too."

Douma slowly nodded as he studied Akaza. There was something... familiar. Something that resonated with Douma's chest as he saw the way Akaza's eyes burned, the way tears (just barely visible) were pooling at the corners of Akaza's eyes.

"You loved," Douma breathed softly, and Akaza's eyes widened before his fist flew.

Douma recoiled as his blood was spilled and the only reason he didn't retaliate was because Akaza looked as shocked as Douma was. The pale demon pulled his fist back and Douma was left holding his shoulder which was now busted open and bleeding.

"Don't," Akaza warned, his fist still shaking as he pulled back and stared at his bloodied knuckles. Rage and grief poured from him, filling Douma's nose.

Douma gave a small smile because... because he understood. He got it now. This whole empathy thing was starting to make sense. He didn't just understand why Akaza would hate Muzan, he was of the same mindset. If Muzan ever made him forget Kotoha - if he woke up hundreds of years later to discover he'd continued to kill as he once had - that he had given Kotoha a reason to fear him... he would hate the demon king too... hell, that's practically what he'd done except he'd committed atrocities before he fell in love. To imagine the inverse could almost make him scream. He stared at Akaza and felt a sincere smile pull at his lips. They were the same... somehow.

"I get it... and I'm sorry," Douma spoke slowly and let himself release whatever was twisting in his stomach. It made his smile grow as his eyes twisted to convey the part of him that hurt alongside Akaza.

All the pale demon did was scowl and look back to the pond. A gentle night breeze had picked up as they talked and it danced over the surface of the water.

They sat in silence for most of that night. In some sort of gentle understanding that Douma didn't even know was possible. It was something that felt so special and rare he didn't dare shatter it. He only smiled at the fish in the pond and didn't say a word when tears slipped down Akaza's cheeks. To call attention to it would be perceived as calling out a weakness and Douma didn't dare. He let the demon silently mourn whatever it was he mourned and Douma let himself learn sympathy so that he could mourn alongside him.

It seemed, in those hours, that they had learned more about each other than centuries spent together had taught them. And to think, all it took was a soft night and a few hours of silence away from a monster's crimson gaze.

Tamayo, as she had promised Douma she would all those years ago, found them.

Douma wasn't sure how and that disturbed him a bit, but she found them.

They'd taken a risk and holed up in a city. Kotoha and Inosuke needed food and Douma needed money. Say what you will about retribution and atonement but Douma considered petty theft just that; petty. A threat there, a bag sheared loose there, even a few fellow thieves hung by their ankle on the rare occasion lent Douma more than enough to make sure they could pass as some sort of functioning humans in this new world.

And Akaza was always too eager to beat up deserving assholes. He'd even made a game of it; to test his restraint and how soft he could land his punches. He'd gone from nearly killing a man in a blow to only breaking a few of his ribs and it was only their third night there. Douma wasn't sure he approved of the game, but Akaza's exploits were immensely successful in acquiring money - and his smile was earnest when he returned home.

Tamayo knocked twice on the door when she arrived. They were gentle knocks that made Akaza's eyes grow sharp and Douma's nails grow sharper.

"Who's there?" Kotoha asked carefully as she stood a few feet away from the door, holding a hand out to signal for Douma to wait.

The silence was deafening and the only assurance Douma kept repeating to himself was that a demon would've already broken down the door. Muzan would've already been ontop of him tearing his throat out.

"I'm an old friend," a soft voice broke through the wooden door of the apartment they'd rented. The two-story ryokan had a good rate and space available but all Douma could think about now was how he should've bribed the owner more to keep her mouth shut. It could be Tamayo, it could be a demon mimicking Tamayo, it could be Muzan himself.

"You don't need to be afraid, Douma and Akaza of Muzan's Kizuki. I am not your enemy."

Akaza looked at Douma and Douma returned the look before he glanced at Kotoha. The only one who knew the two of them and could say Muzan's name was -

"Tamayo?" Douma called uncertainly. Kotoha crept to the door and slid it open slowly, glancing at Douma once before revealing the Lady Tamayo. She looked just as she had all those years ago and Douma took a long breath: so did Akaza.

"You broke free," Tamayo smiled gently.

"You found us," Douma retorted.

"Indeed, Yushiro is quite skilled at finding things that don't want to be found," she gestured to her side as another demon came into view. Both of the ex-Upper Moons had already sensed him but it was clear he was not one of Muzan's. His very aura seemed different, softer like Tamayo's instead of the sudden and suffocating presence of one of Muzan's demons.

"May I come in?" Tamayo asked Kotoha who gave a very skeptical nod.

"I suppose," Kotoha stated, her gaze hard. "As long as you mean us no harm."

"I swear it," Tamayo vowed, and apparently whatever emotion was in her voice was enough for Kotoha who beckoned them in.

They gathered around the low table, kneeling formally with not a relaxed muscle between them. Akaza and Tamayo's boy were having some sort of staring contest that left Douma praying for some divine intervention to ensure that Akaza didn't commit murder when he lost.

"So, do I get an introduction?" Kotoha asked as she knelt down beside Douma.

"Oh - of course, Kotoha this is Tamayo. She escaped our Master years ago of her own making. She is part of the reason I was able to escape him. She's... trustworthy, at least I hope so," he ended with a tight smile.

Yushiro sneered and Akaza looked ready to restore to violence, though Douma couldn't tell if the action would be taken against him or Tamayo's companion.

"Then, you have my gratitude," Kotoha murmured, giving a soft bow to the woman.

"Please, don't thank me. I came to thank all of you," Tamayo denied with a gentle wave of her hand. She smiled at Kotoha. "You've enacted great change... all of you."

"What sort of change?" Akaza demanded.

"The type that offsets the balance of power. The demons are in disarray. From the rumors, more demons have defected, and those who haven't are being culled. It's a mess for Muzan and that gives us opportunities to - "

"Kill him?" Douma asked pensively.

"Do not interrupt the Lady Tamayo!" Yushiro snapped suddenly which made Akaza sneer.

"Not kill, not yet," Tamayo answered. "But I think this may allow Muz-"

"Can we come out yet??" Inosuke yelled as he emerged from the side bedroom. "I'm bored!"

"Me too!" Mirakuru whined as she emerged from behind her brother.

"Inosuke!" Kotoha sighed in exasperation. "Miku..."

"What did I say about hiding, you brat!? You have to stay quiet!" Akaza snapped at the kid. Douma only shook his head with a smile and gestured for the kids to emerge.

They did, Inosuke barreling in with a grin and sitting himself next to his mother before pointing an accusing finger and Yushiro.

"Who are you!?" the boy demanded.

"None of your business," Yushiro sneered.

"Is too, you're in my house!" Inosuke argued with a wicked grin.

"This is Yushiro," Tamayo interjected with something warm in her expression. "And I am Tamayo."

"You're very pretty Miss Tamayo," Mirakuru murmured as she sat between her parents.

"Thank you," Tamayo smiled gently, but there was something behind that smile that Douma couldn't place.

"He looks like a cat!" Inosuke cried as he pointed to Yushiro who looked like he was ready to act the part of a feral animal.

"You're not wrong," Akaza snickered. But before Yushiro could snap a response Kotoha raised a hand for silence.

"Enough, boys," Kotoha shook her head and placed a hand on Inosuke's head. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"

"...No," Inosuke grumbled, crossing his arms.

"No: now be polite and say sorry."

"Sorry I called you a cat," Inosuke muttered as he glared at Yushiro.

"Apology not accepted," Yushiro stated.

"What!? But I apologized! That's not fair!" Inosuke cried.

"Not accepted."

"Accept it!"

"No."

"I'll make you accept it!"

"You can try!!"

"Inosuke!" "Yushiro!" both women scolded at once making their assigned boys return to their positions, upright and respectful but still glaring daggers at each other.

Akaza threw back his head and laughed and it seemed that Miku couldn't help but join him with a snicker.

"All that fuss, over such a little child," Tamayo murmured as she stared at where Miku slept, her head propped up on her father's leg. They'd talked for a while about smaller things, Inosuke and Mirakuru had already known their father and Akaza were different but now the word 'demon' was a label. Tamayo had been patient in answering all the children's and Kotoha's questions and Douma came to a shaming realization that he hadn't told his family much of anything so he too explained as much as he could.

They both avoided evoking Kibutsuji's name however until the children fell asleep.

"I still don't quite understand, this... this Muzan, he thinks she'll make him immortal?" Kotoha asked as she gently threw a blanket over Inosuke who was sprawled out snoozing on the floor. The sun was fully in the sky now and the nocturnal family seemed to have hit their limit. Even Miku, whose sleep schedule was anything but normal, seemed to be exhausted.

"Yes," Douma nodded. "But she won't."

"Yes, you told me that... but I'm just confused why he still thinks she will - I mean... does he just eat every demon who does something spectacular?"

"There is no demon who's done what the two of you have done," Tamayo murmured, shaking her head. "Creating life? It's unheard of."

Her eyes seemed glued on Mirakuru but her gaze was distant. Douma was left to sympathize again with whatever strange emotion was in Tamayo's gaze. Was it loss? He couldn't tell.

"Another thing too - I would not recommend speaking Muzan's name around her. If she were to slip up and say it, I can't guarantee the curse won't kill her. I don't even know if she's considered one of Muzan's demons or not. Either way, best not to risk it," Tamayo murmured.

"I understand," Kotoha nodded.

"Best to not tell that brat either, I don't think he knows how to keep his mouth closed and if he goes around spewing it he may attract unwanted attention," Yushiro stated as he pointed to Inosuke.

"Be polite," Tamayo instructed curtly.

"Yes Ma'am," Yushiro smiled obediently.

"I still don't see why you came," Akaza muttered from where he sat. "We already knew all this - we're fucked and wanted criminals. Who cares if the demon world is in chaos, we can't do anything about it."

"It gives the demon slayers a chance at winning," Tamayo murmured.

"Oh, great the demon slayers. Surely they'll save us," Akaza sneered.

"You mustn't look down on them, they deserve to be revered for what they do," she retorted firmly. "And if my intel is true, I may be able to put in a good word for you."

That made Douma perk up.

"You interact with the Corps?" he demanded almost too desperately.

"With their leader; Kagaya Ubuyashiki," Tamayo nodded. "I've worked with the family, giving them information and insight into the demon world from afar. Who do you think told them Muzan's name? They know me, but the majority of the Corps would still kill me on sight. Their master is reasonable, but the others have suffered greatly by our kind's hands and don't believe there's a good shred left in our tainted souls."

"Probably for the best," Akaza shrugged. "That scrutiny keeps them alive. And they're not necessarily

"

"But do you think collaboration is... possible? Would they help us?" Kotoha asked softly.

Tamayo slowly looked over to Kotoha. "They'd help you. Without question. They'd help Inosuke... as for Mirakuru, I cannot say. I know the Master is good and would not stand to see an innocent suffer but if she is Muzan's secret to immortality then some in the Corps may wish to dispose of her in a preemptive strike... and they are not forgiving of demons."

"Then we don't go to them." The words came from Kotoha and they rang out like ice. Douma glanced at the woman and saw a steely determination in her eyes.

"If they aren't willing to accept my daughter then I want no part of them." She looked to Douma and nodded. "I'd rather stay with you, anyway."

"Still... a good word won't hurt," Tamayo murmured gently. "But, I can offer some more useful assistance as well to rogue demons - I happen to have resources that would be most... beneficial to your changed hearts."

"Such as?" Akaza grumbled.

"I can supply you with blood," Tamayo explained softly.

Douma and Akaza both stiffened.

"What?" Douma asked darkly.

Tamayo raised her head: "I have long donned the guise of a doctor -"

"Guise!?" Yushiro scoffed: "My lady is an excellent physician, there is no disguise there!"

Tamayo smiled, but continued: "As such, I request blood for transfusions for faux surgeries. It's all humanely acquired and it keeps up your strength well enough. If I'm careful I can even get marechi blood to keep you satisfied longer. It would keep you strong and fit. It is not honest... and I'm sorry, Miss Kotoha, if you find it distasteful," Tamayo apologized, perhaps some uncertainty hidden under her tongue.

Kotoha only shook her head and smiled. "I think it's brilliant," she said as she threw a glance at Douma. "You did say you were trying to find a way to keep your strength up."

"I won't drink human blood," Douma stated. "I refuse."

"Well - hang on... it may be a good idea," Akaza refuted. "It would keep us stronger than animal and demon blood will."

"I will not."

"We can keep your humans safe if we're strong. We can take on Kokushibo if we're strong. We won't be top dogs forever if we keep starving ourselves!" Akaza argued.

Douma clenched his jaw and glared at the table.

"When you used my blood you changed your physiology. You don't need a significant amount of blood to keep your strength, you simply will not grow any stronger without falling back into the Kibutsuji curse. But I can estimate the amount you would need, and I would be happy to supply them. They would be bi-monthly deliveries. A pint or so for you two to share. It isn't much, but if you supplement that with your other hunts... you may lose a bit of your strength, and you will not grow stronger, but staying at your power level will give you a good chance at survival." Tamayo looked earnest and Douma couldn't help but wince.

The idea of drinking human blood made his gut twist... but it wasn't the worst of ideas.

"Perhaps... I'll think on it," Douma murmured.

"I'll send the deliveries... it's up to you if you choose to drink it. Don't worry about how I'll find you, as I said - Yushiro has his ways." She shifted and looked regretful as she spoke again; "But I must admit, the real reason I came was... to ask for a favor."

"A favor?" there was nothing but distrust in Akaza's voice.

"I want some of your blood," Tamayo explained. "I'm working on a cure - a cure for demons and a poison against Muzan. For it, I need demons who have drank much of his blood and been in frequent contact with him. I need you."

"A cure?" Douma asked, in disbelief. "You can't really think you can - "

"I can not know until I try," Tamayo cut him off sharply. "And I am willing to try."

Akaza shifted his position and slowly curled his lips into a frown.

"Poison... that's your best plan against him?" the demon sneered darkly. "A coward's victory?"

"It would weaken him and even the playing field. Call it what you will but it's crucial to bringing down his defeat. I want blood samples but I will not force them from you - "

"No... take all you need," Douma denied as he held out his arm. Tamayo looked at him and he smiled.

"Any chance to make that man's life more difficult," he grinned.

Something was stirring in his chest and it never left him. A cure for demons. A poison against Muzan. Was it really possible? Was something like that achievable? He looked over to Kotoha and wondered, for a split second, what that could be like... being human again, with no Muzan to worry about.

All of a sudden, Douma had something more precious than any gift Tamayo could've brought.

Chapter Text

After Tamayo's visit, they moved - quickly. They bounced from place to place leaving no trail and avoiding all signs of demons. Even though Tamayo's visit was a fortunate turn of events, no one was willing to risk a visitor with a different intention.

As they moved, Douma did find some resolve to eat. Akaza too. They had to. Strength was necessary no matter what distasteful form it came in. So, despite Akaza's original protest, they swallowed their hunger and forced themselves to gorge on less-than-pleasant meals.

Animals and demons became their main food sources. While they were immensely better than preying on humans, the demonic kills could make Douma's stomach revolt. They were too much like humans - too sentient. Every bite set his blood aflame, the fire dying away into a chill so sharp and cruel, it felt akin to nichirin in his bones. The struggles of such cannibalized meals could make him want to claw his throat and stomach out with how the guilt burned into his mind. But... he needed their strength. If Muzan found them... if Kokushibo found them he and Akaza were the only line of defense. Should he fail, Kotoha would die, Inosuke would be slaughtered, and Miku's final moments would be at Muzan's hands. He could not let that happen, so he swallowed his bile and tried to tell himself it was for the best. He'd take a few bites and string the demons in the sun, ensuring they wouldn't continue down the bloodied path Douma had found them on. Still, sometimes the screams of demons echoed with the voices of human victims' long dead and Douma would stumble away, his old meals clawing up his throat.

They were all people, weren't they? Demon? Human? What difference did it make in the end? He was a monster all the same...

"I don't think so," Kotoha hummed one night, taking her place next to him.

He was too busy staring at his trembling hands, a bit of blood stuck under his nails, and he couldn't wash it out.

"The guilt proves you care - it shows who you truly are," Kotoha supposed.

He rued such an excuse: "It doesn't bring them back."

"No," Kotoha admitted, reaching over and grabbing one of his hands to still them. "But it shows that you're open to change. We'll find another way. You won't have to do this forever."

"And if I do?" his voice grew weak at the thought.

She squeezed his hand: "It won't change a thing."

Kotoha was not afraid of what Douma was doing. Nor Akaza. She feared for them when they were out - images flashing of a red-eyed demon pulling them back to whatever hell they crawled out of, and he unable to help. But that was fear for them, never of them. She did not fear the iron on their breaths or the blood beneath their nails, though it was clear how the two tried so hard to hide it from the children. She suspected that half the time they were gone, they were simply trying to clean themselves of gore: hide the evidence from the children that they were anything but good. She explained it all the same when the two asked.

No, she did not fear the demons in her home. The only feeling that could cripple her was momentary guilt. Guilt: when she thought of demons who may have been like her love, or like Akaza. Lost and misled, trapped in an immortal hell of starvation and pain. But, like she said, it was momentary. That guilt was quickly dispelled whenever she saw Douma and his true soft smile. This was her family, no matter what. Inosuke and his wildness, Mirakuru and her sweet demeanor, Douma and his unexpected gentle nature, - even Akaza had grown on her.

She knew of other demons, she knew the caliber of monsters that shared a species with her family. They weren't much different from the worst of her own kind and when she reminded herself of that, she could sleep easier at night. Perhaps it was selfish... perhaps it was evil, but when she awoke to find Douma sitting vigilantly by her, his breath thick with iron but his eyes bright and strong from his last meal, she felt safe.

Whatever it took to keep her family safe.

Still, there were always challenges. The questions of where they would go next. Where they would stay. What would they eat. How would they move. She played liaison for them when the sun was out, but other than that she felt hopelessly useless. All she could truly do was lend some sense of normalcy - bring comfort where comfort was scarce. Her songs were constants, and Inosuke fell asleep to them no matter where they slept (though she suspected he could sleep on anything). She was trying to learn how to cook - something it seemed no one in the house was particularly skilled at though Akaza was willing to try. There was never any time to plan ahead, and all she could do was embrace that. All she could do was her best.

Still, she wished she had been more prepared for everything. She wished she would've been ready. She wished every challenge didn't catch her by surprise. Those wishes culminated into one when the first shipment of blood came. She wished she had been more observant of Douma and prepared... for his sake.

The blood arrived on a cat, strangely enough, though Kotoha supposed strange was the new way of things. The cat with a tag around its collar arrived with a meow that made Akaza leap to his feet in surprise and almost obliterate the poor thing.

"Easy, easy - it's Tamayo's," Douma soothed as the cat hissed and spat at Akaza's fist that had been moments away from crushing it.

"Fucking - invisible - what the hell!" Akaza spat back as he retracted his punch and stomped away.

"WOW!" Inosuke and Mirakuru cried in wonder as they raced towards the cat, falling to their knees before the thing whose hackles were still lowering.

"It can turn invisible!" Inosuke grinned. "That's so cool!"

"It's so cute!" Mirakuru giggled as she offered a hand for the cat to sniff. The cat gave it a suspicious sniff but then perked up and rubbed against her knuckles.

"He likes you!" Inosuke grinned as he gently shoved Miku.

"Of course he does!" Mirakuru smiled. "I'm the best!"

"Hell ye - WAIT A SECOND, I'M THE BEST - " Inosuke caught himself before his core beliefs could contradict each other.

The cat meowed again and moved from Miku's hand to Douma's leg, brushing against him and offering the box it carried. Kotoha watched Douma's eyes sharpen as he reached down and unclasped the lock on the rectangular wooden box strapped to the calico's back. Kotoha leaned over his shoulder and saw a rather large plastic bag squished within, filled with a thick red substance.

You didn't have to be a genius to guess what it was.

"Tamayo's blood delivery." Akaza supplied the title.

Douma reached down and pulled out the bag, but Kotoha saw the slight tremble in his hands. It wasn't noticeable, just the regular amount of uncertainty that any human would carry in their fingers; but Douma wasn't human.

Kotoha's gaze turned to her lover's face. She read the furrow between his brows, how the colors in his eyes gleamed with something ancient and strong, how his jaw was clenched just the slightest bit. He was scared. She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder; a gentle sort of contact in a reassuring touch. A similar touch to the ones he'd grant her when old memories awakened new fears. He didn't flinch, but she could see the subtle tensing of his fingers.

"Are you alright?" she breathed softly as they both studied the thick blood within the bag.

"Ewwww! Does that even taste good?" Inosuke wrinkled his nose at the sight of the blood. Miku was beside him and seemed to regard the bag with a similar distaste.

Akaza was walking for the cabinets nearby when he whirled on his heel with a strict reprimanding: "No, it doesn't, so don't you ever try it."

"Awww," Inosuke whined.

Akaza ignored it all as he rustled around and searched for the cups. It allowed Kotoha to usher the children off to play. It wasn't something for them to gawk at. It wasn't the most tasteful of sights and while she was certain neither of her children could afford to be squeamish, she wasn't sure Douma would appreciate the audience.

The two children were out in the yard by the time Akaza successfully found two cups to present to the table. Doua poured the blood into the cups easily enough. Nothing after that was easy.

He was paler than usual as he stared at the viscous liquid in his cup, as if he expected it to bite. Kotoha sat beside him and squeezed his arm in a silent question. He glanced at her for a second and then averted his gaze. Oh, there was a lot of uncertainty in those eyes. Fear, even.

The smell of blood was just barely tangible in the air for Kotoha to make out but it expectedly had a more profound effect on her demonic company. They were breathing (which wasn't a requirement for them). Breathing heavily at that, with their mouths open and their eyes brighter than she'd seen them. There was a predatory stance to the way they sat, both guarding their cups instinctively like they thought someone was going to reach around them and snatch it from their fingers.

Douma's breath was strained... and shaking.

"Kanpai," Akaza toasted half-heartedly, gently tapping Douma's cup before gulping down its contents. He drank like a parched man, gulping down the blood and not breaking until the cup was dry. He pulled away like the cup burned and took a long breath. The striped demon's body shook for a moment and his eyes reverted to their crossed-out form, the colors brighter and awakened.

"Are you alright?" Kotoha inquired, both out of curiosity and concern - Akaza almost looked pained.

"Yeah, no... it's great. It's good... but strange, you can almost tell... never mind," the striped demon shook his head. "Drink up."

That last part was directed to Doua who looked like he was about to be sick. He was just staring into his cup, eyes wide and breaths heavy.

Kotoha stared at him and, not for the first time, wondered what he was thinking about.

It was a woman's blood.

He knew it. He smelled it. He recognized it. He wanted it.

His senses were flooded with the scent of human blood, which wasn't anything new, but the fact that he could actually consume this elixir was making something feral and desperate in him beg for a taste. An old starvation was clawing its way to Douma's throat and he couldn't stop it. The blood that sloshed around in the cup was awakening his senses in ways he had forgotten they worked. He could hear Kotoha's heart beating in her chest, pumping her blood. Her arteries. Her vessels. Her lungs. He could smell breakfast on her breath, fatigue in her muscles, everything... including the blood. He wanted to lick the cup dry to satisfy the hunger in his stomach and that terrified him.

What if he couldn't stop? What if he tasted it and he wasn't able to stop? The craving. The need.

Fear, stronger than hunger, made his hands shake. He was warring with himself as the red liquid mesmerized him and his mind screamed to throw it away. He didn't consume blood, he couldn't - he can't. He wouldn't be strong enough to resist it. He knew it would taste like life and strength, sweet and thick and wonderful -

No!

"I can't - " he breathed, and he was gone within the second, the cup left on the table, the door slid ajar, and his feet carrying him as far away as they could until the damn smell wasn't staining the air and his soul. But it was too late. It was stuck in his nose and he couldn't get it out. He couldn't make himself stop wanting it.

He held his face in his head and tried not to scream as his body roared with disappointment. He was better than this. He needed to be better. It had been so long since he'd tasted something human but that shouldn't mean he devolved into some animal!! He wasn't this. Please, please he didn't want to be this!

"Douma." There was that soft voice accompanied by the sweet smell of sweat, flesh, blood, and grass. Douma wanted to curl away until he was nothing but a stain on the floor. She would see him like this, fallen and hideous...

"Douma, it's okay - there's nothing to be afraid of." Why was it fair that she sounded so beautiful? The blood in her veins pumped with a symphony that went kindly with her voice. With a start, Douma realized there were terrible ancient thoughts that he thought he had buried years ago. Images flashed through his mind so invasively he wanted to take a knife to his brain and carve them out himself. They weren't his thoughts. They couldn't be his thoughts. Please don't let them be his thoughts, don't let them be him -

She put a hand on his shoulder and he almost tore away from her warmth. There was something to be afraid of! There was! It lived in his chest and feasted on his fear and it would kill her if he wasn't careful!

"Hey, shhh, it's okay. Breathe, my love. Douma, it's okay." He was in her arms, she was hugging him, and that damn cup was a few feet away sitting on the ground, he could smell it. She was all around him, her blood pumping mere centimeters from his fangs, and that terrified him. He reached up and grabbed at his clothes to keep his hands away from her - to keep his claws turned against himself. He squeezed and pulled as he turned his fangs away from her - the fact that it was difficult was another nail in his coffin.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, and it felt like a growl to his ears.

"You're okay. It's okay," she soothed. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on, please."

Douma shook his head and stopped breathing to keep that smell out of his nose. He couldn't - he wanted it so badly and it scared him. Where did the want end? He couldn't even trust himself enough to smell it, let alone taste it... not with her here.

"You don't have to talk, but you need to know that I know you are not a monster. I know," she swore. But she didn't. She didn't. She couldn't!

"I don't." he managed weakly. "I don't... and I can't. If - if I drink I don't know if I...I'm not sure I can - if I lose control and you- "

"You are not going to lose control. You aren't going to hurt anyone," Kotoha soothed, and finally, Douma pulled himself away from his hands dared to meet her gaze.

She was smiling, smiling so, so softly, with her eyes gleaming like gems in their own right. She cradled his face in her hand and somehow that smile grew even softer. There wasn't a shred of doubt hidden in those eyes and not a muscle in her body was taunt with fear.

Douma could've screamed. She saw him. He knew he could see him. All of him. All of this. She saw was he was tensed to attack, the predator within him had clawed into his gaze and brightened it with bloodlust. If she looked hard enough maybe she'd even see the growl building in the back of his throat or the way his hands were longing to rip something apart and feed his mouth that was salivating with no end in sight. That hunger. That monster he would always be!

He could've screamed at her stupidity. Why didn't she run? Why didn't she scream? Why did she stay? What had he done to her -

"You are strong. And you are going to be alright," she soothed.

"I can't drink it - I can't -" Douma managed to voice desperately. Images flashed before his eyes, older meals, sweeter meals, deadlier meals. Ones armed with swords, ones armed with perfume, and some so drastically unarmed they never even knew what tore them apart.

"I will not make you," Kotoha's voice broke through the images as a cup was gently placed into his shaking hands. "But I trust you. Trust yourself to do this."

"I - " Weak, his voice was so weak, he was so weak. He was far too powerful to be this weak. Too strong. And she... she was always so strong... but...

"Nothing is going to happen, look at me," she ordered. He did as she bade. "No matter what, it's all going to be alright, I promise."

He didn't believe her. He didn't. Did he? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what he was feeling as he looked into the cup and felt his stomach twist.

He would drink to stay strong. He would drink to protect Miku, Inosuke, and Kotoha. He wasn't drinking for pleasure. He wouldn't drink this for pleasure; he'd never enjoy the taste of humans again. That was a lie.

That was a lie from the moment he thought it to the moment he forced himself to drink.

It felt like ichor and paradise, soothing parts of him that had long since roared to be fed. It was the sweetest of meals and he nearly found himself licking the bottom of the cup, it wasn't marechi but it was heavenly. No, no that was the wrong word. It made his heart tear apart too viciously to be anything from heaven. Time had vanished and anything that had happened between the start of his guzzling and its end was lost to him. It took a shameful amount of willpower to pull the cup away from his lips.

He threw a hand over his mouth, to hide the bloodied teeth from Kotoha, he told himself. But he knew the truth, he stared into Kotoha's eyes that were looking at him with support and adoration. He covered his mouth to hide the drool that was nearly dripping from him. He wanted more. GODS, he wanted more. And he'd looked for the closest source. He met her gaze and a growl powered through his lungs making him double over and claw at the ground in desperation.

"It's okay" Kotoha's hand was on his back. "It's okay."

No! No, he wanted to say, but how would he say it? There were tears in his eyes and he couldn't fight it - he couldn't fight any of it! How could he explain this!? How could he explain the things he was thinking? The horrors he knew a part of him wanted. How he knew that the blood that coated his throat belonged to a middle-aged woman past her prime by the way it sat just a little tart on the roof of his mouth. How his entire body registered the blood and told him whoever this donor was still lived and her blood could still be drunk from like a fountain. How it was like tasting the sweetest of any food and made the edges of his mind foggy.

How his senses were now zeroed into the way her heartbeat? How he was still salivating, and the hunger would never be satisfied. He felt filthy and monstrous, like every terrible thing he'd tried to hide now emerged in all its horrific glory and Kotoha was witness to it all. Victim to it all.

"Douma... talk to me," Kotoha begged. She grabbed his free hand and squeezed it tight... that was... grounding. He slowly sat up and there they sat, staring at one another, his hand still covering his mouth and her smile sincere. There was no horror in her eyes. She didn't know...

And maybe she wouldn't care if she did.

Douma slowly pulled his hand away and he felt that he should do something, say something, be anything other than whatever he was. But she smiled anyway.

"I'm sorry," was all that tumbled out of his mouth. He wanted to hide his face again, he knew his teeth were stained despite how badly he wanted to lick every crimson substance away.

"For what?" she asked with that smile, that holy, perfect smile that wasn't tainted as he was. She picked up his hand and kissed it gently, her warmth spreading down his nerves like fire, or perhaps sunlight.

"For what I am... for how I am..." he tried to explain but his words all seemed to fall short of the magnitude of his crimes.

"You are Douma," she laughed as she stared at him. "And I love you."

What else could Douma say to that, but; "I'm sorry. I love you."

Horrific blood shipments aside, their lives had settled into something... normal? Douma watched his children grow in strength and marveled at how little Inosuke and Mirakuru grew by the day. Kotoha remained steadfast - a constant strength in their ever-shifting world. The woman's songs emerged at dawn when the family rested, and they lulled all into a sense of peace and serenity. Douma would always love her for the feelings she instilled in him. The nervousness made his heart flutter every time she kissed him. The joy when she fell asleep beside him. The love that filled his entire being every time she smiled.

It had yet to fade - it likely never would. When she held his hand at the blood deliveries, when she laughed at Inosuke's antics, when she smiled at Miku's charm... it was as if he were back at that pond falling in love all over again.

What had happened to him?

It was almost laughable how much he had changed. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure he was the same demon. Memories of his old life seemed distant and out of place as if they were some foreign apparition. The scent of blood was still sweet and ever tempting - but never stronger than the way he despised what it did to him. The taste of flesh was no longer and would never be delightful. The feeling of power in his veins now felt irrelevant and useless unless it came to using it to protect Kotoha and the children. What had happened to him? Douma was pondering it one day as he devoured a deer a few miles away from where the family was. He stared up at the night sky and wondered why emotions had changed everything about his life. Was it possible emotions controlled thought? Morals? Actions? Of course, they did... but to this extent? He had practically made a 180-degree turn in his life choices simply because he had gained them.

How could humans be evil to one another if they felt this way? How could demons who carried emotions be content to feast on humans? It made no sense. Did they not feel guilt? Did they not understand it?

There was a tingle that went up to his spine, jarring him from his existential thoughts. He looked up knowingly and composed himself.

Gyutaro and Daki, Upper Moon Six... they traveled alone and they moved quickly. They must've stumbled upon his scent because they moved with a purpose... straight towards him. That was interesting, they came for him instead of the family. 

Intriguing.

How odd for Muzan to send those two. Perhaps it was a punishment, a mission they were sure to fail. The poor things. He didn't have much pity for them, actually, but he was happy they beelined for his location. Perhaps they just hadn't smelled Mirakuru or Akaza yet. Speaking of which, Akaza was with Kotoha and the others; he could protect them if things went south. Then again... it was very doubtful things would turn ugly. Daki and Gyutaro were an annoying pair to fight, and they were fully capable of slipping past him, but if he took one and Akaza took the other? Forget that - if he incapacitated one, the other would be at his mercy. 

Oh it was so familiar to fall back into old egos and confidence. He could fight them, he could win.

The Ex-Upper Two crunched down on a leg, feeling the bone splinter between his fangs as he ripped through flesh and muscle. The blood was thick and putrid on his tongue but he ate it easily, quicker than usual. Leaving this corpse would be a waste that would sit heavily with him later, even if it was a lone deer.

A few minutes later, Gyutaro and Daki seemingly appeared before the ex-upper moon. Hopefully, he was no different than how they remembered him.

The tall demon sat in a puddle of blood as the remnants of his last meal were strewn around him. His lips and chin were covered in blood and he wore his normal fake smile as his white fangs glistened in the silver moonlight. Douma put a few of his fingers to his lips and licked off the crimson blood on them, keeping his brilliant luminescent eyes on the two. Familiar - rehearsed even.

A shudder went up Daki and Gyutaro as they watched his 'human' eyes melt away until they were his old demonic eyes now dawning two hideous X's, one through each eye.

Good. They remembered their place then.

"Hey!" Douma greeted, feinting sweetness. "It's been a while! What brings you here?"

Daki looked over the carnage carefully, her lips parting after a long moment. Before she could speak, Gyutaro dropped to his knees and bowed. That was... odd. Douma stared for a moment - Daki's jaw dropped.

"Lord Douma... we're looking to join you," Gyutaro explained reverently.

Douma's eyebrows raised at such a notion he slowly opened his golden fan which flashed in the moonlight. Lord? He was Lord now?

"Join me? Why ever would you do that?" Douma asked, still wearing his fake smile.

"Because," Gyutaro hissed, looking up to meet Douma's gaze. His eyes suddenly shifted, X's tearing through their center in a familiar damning motion. Daki's eyes reverted as well and Douma spotted a bit of... guilt? It looked as though guilt resided in her gaze. Daki? Looking ashamed?

Douma wasn't convinced. It could easily be one of Muzan's elaborate schemes. It could be a facade so that the two could get close to him and snatch Mirakuru away. It could be a trick. It probably was a trick.

But yet again emotions were making him think foolish things.

"And what on earth could've gotten you two excommunicated from the Upper Moons?" Douma inquired, tilting his head with a snap of his teeth.

"The same thing as you," Daki hissed.

Douma severely doubted that.

"He wanted me to kill Daki," Gyutaro explained, standing. "I couldn't."

Douma's eyes narrowed. It was... plausible. Muzan would be testing the Twelve Kizuki and executing others on a whim. It was common knowledge to everyone except Daki herself that Muzan thought she was a brat and a waste, so their story was possible, but it was also too perfect... still questionable. How did they even get away from Muzan in the first place? Why weren't they being dragged back to the demon king's lair as they spoke?

"How did you get away?" Douma asked. "If he wanted you dead, you should be dead."

"You're not!" Daki snapped back in fury. "I don't think he can drag us back."

"He definitely can," Douma denied, his brows furrowing. "So, how did you escape?"

"Hell if we know, dumb luck - but we'd like to keep it that way!" Gyutaro scathed.

"Why should I ever consider trusting you?" Douma smiled falsely, his sweet tone contradicting his words. That dangerous feeling was back though, poking at his skull.

"Please!" Daki spat out. "We're... we're not lying."

Now that was unusual. Daki pleading for help? The only thing stronger than Gyutaro's jealousy was Daki's pride and here it was... shattering before Douma's very eyes. How entertaining, in a way. How damning, in another.

"We have nowhere else to go," Gyutaro explained with a growl. "We ran from fucking Kokushibo!"

Again: how did they get away? Their blood art would be perfectly tailored for escape but Kokushibo was a force of nature. Either they were the luckiest demons imaginable or they were lying.

"Why come to me?" Douma pressed, his tone was still falsely sweet. "I am the largest target on his radar. You're inviting trouble."

"We have nowhere else to go," Gyutaro grumbled.

"I don't believe you," Douma murmured. "You shouldn't have been able to escape him. I think he sent you."

"To what, die!?" Daki cried. "We can't beat you!"

"No," Douma grinned. "You can't."

They took a wary step back. Daki's lip was trembling - oh my, was the girl about to cry?

"We don't know how we escaped, but we did - and now we have nowhere else to go! That's it!" Gyutaro argued as if that was the best argument he had.

Maybe it was, Douma realized. Maybe these two were telling the truth and maybe they were truly just desperate and lucky. 

"What makes you think I would want to help you?" Douma asked tactically.

The two physically recoiled at that.

"B-because!" Daki fumbled with her words, fear lining her voice in a fairly convincing act.

"Because?" Douma echoed, unimpressed.

"You - you did it once!" Gyutaro cried, his voice cracking.

Then, Douma saw it. There was a familiar emotion tumbling in that demonic boy's eyes. It was an emotion Douma had seen in Kotoha's eyes too many times; desperation.

What emotions he saw in the two seemed true. If he had been the demon he once was, he would've dismissed the two without hesitation - maybe even tried to take some of their blood to satiate his hunger. But... he knew more now. He recognized more. Emotions were strange things, in what they could make you do, and what they could change. So once again, emotions changed his heart easily enough.

He could recall the image of two siblings in the street, shivering in the cold. A young girl, maybe once beautiful, but beaten and burned and barely clinging on to life. The older boy had his arms wrapped around her, his hideous body shadowed by the eyes of desperation that had once pleaded with Douma. Pleaded for help.

Douma had given it to them then, for a very different reason.

Douma would give it to them again. If nothing more than to satiate the guilt gnawing on his bones. And if they betrayed him, then he and Akaza would have a feast (even if the thought made him ill). The elder demon stood and noticed the flinch that ripped through both Daki's and Gyutaro's bodies. He then laughed and spread his arms welcomingly.

"Well, as long as you promise to be nice, and promise to live by my rules, I don't see any reason we can't all be buddies!" he announced. "Just don't be lying to me now!"

Gyutaro's and Daki's expressions spoke for themselves.

Akaza didn't think himself a sentimental demon, far from it. He was harsh, unrelenting - merciless, even. At least... he considered himself to be. He had been teaching Inosuke, who was starting to remind him way too much of himself, well, of Hakuji. The boy's footwork was a mess and he was far too eager to skip to the 'fighting' part, but he was eager, and that quelled Akaza's impatience and anger. He was getting better at patience thanks to the child's lessons.

Patience with Inosuke. Not with Douma, especially when the fucker came with unwanted guests!

"Inside: we'll finish this later," Akaza ordered, as he shoved Inosuke behind him.

"I don't wanna wait till later!" Inosuke cried angrily.

"Get inside," Akaza ordered, glaring at the boy.

Inosuke hated authority, but he understood the tone. He ran into the house, muttering curse words under his breath that made Akaza wince... Inosuke's bad language was likely his fault. Douma would kill him for that later.

If Akaza didn't kill Douma first.

As soon as Douma was in sight, Akaza sneered. The tall demon raised a hand in greeting and before he could think, Akaza was tackling him and strangling him. Okay, so he wasn't stellar at self-control yet but this was justified!!

Daki and Gyutaro jumped away, Gyutaro's scythes emerging in his hands as Daki's ribbons danced in the air.

"What are you thinking!?" Akaza demanded, shaking Douma.

"Hi-yo," Douma smiled sweetly.

"You led them here!?" Akaza sneered, pointing at Gyutaro and Daki.

The two were absolutely working for Muzan, without a doubt. They manipulated Douma's new 'moral mind' with their sad sibling antics and the dumb demon welcomed them in like a fool! Akaza wasn't falling for it. He glanced at the two and almost dared them to try and make a break for the house. Let them try to attack the humans in it, they'd be dead before they took a step. Well, not dead, but he'd show them just how many times you had to tear an Upper Moon in half before their regeneration gave up.

"They're on our side now!" Douma explained with a smile.

"Bullshit," Akaza hissed. He grabbed Douma's shirt collar with his hand and shook the demon as if he was a ragdoll. "You led them here!! They're spies for him. What's next? You're gonna believe Gyokko when he waltzes in spewing a sob story!?"

"Don't worry, unlike Gyokko, we can trust them," Douma assured the demon, not trying to get up. "He kicked them out for caring about each other. Sounds familiar, right?"

"And you believe that!?" Akaza sneered. "If that was true he would've torn them apart, likely in front of each other. Starting with her and ending with him!"

Daki and Gyutaro both grimaced at the thought. Good. As soon as he was finished with Douma he was moving to them!

Then Douma gave him a smile, it wasn't his normal fake smile that made Akaza want to punch his face in, it wasn't the loving smile he gave to one of the humans, it wasn't even the soft smile Akaza had spied on the demon's face a few times. The smile Douma gave him was one full of mirth and playfulness. The little shit!

"Don't tell me you believe them -"

"Of course I do!" Douma chirped.

Akaza almost punched his face in. Almost.

That's a lie, he absolutely broke that fucker's nose.

Kotoha was mildly surprised when Douma introduced two newly traitorous Upper Moons to her, by the names of Daki and Gyutaro. Then again, she had a half-demon daughter, two demons living with her, and a little boy who wanted to learn how to kill demons... oh, and she was expecting a delivery any day from an invisible cat. There wasn't too much that could take Kotoha by surprise anymore.

"Pleased to meet you!" Kotoha smiled, extending a hand as the two new demons looked at her, oh-so apprehensive. They were... nervous, it seemed. Also rather cute. The girl had a ribbon wrapped around her brother's wrist and they seemed to be trying desperately hard to look unafraid. They were tall but were so familiar in how they carried themselves - like children lost on the street. These were the siblings Douma had talked about briefly. The two conjoined Upper Moon Six.

"Thanks," Gyutaro responded coldly. He seemed so confused. He took her hand, shook it, and then pulled away quickly as if her touch burned. The situation was beyond awkward and the fact that Akaza was glaring at him like a criminal allowed Kotoha to read the tension in the room. Akaza didn't like these two... at all.

But Douma trusted them. He trusted them enough to bring them into the house but had placed himself between her and the two. He was also making very poignant eye contact with her. This was a test then, for them. She could play along.

"Momma, can we come out now!?" Mirakuru asked, poking her head out of the closet Kotoha had ordered her to hide in. As soon as Inosuke had run in she had expected the worst but luckily, it had been mere paranoia. Or... mistaken paranoia. She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"Yes, Miku, you can come out," Kotoha smiled. "Stay close to Akaza, for now."

No sooner did the granted permission leave her lips than her eldest brought ruin for any peaceful transition.

"ALRIGHT! WHO CAN I FIGHT!??" Inosuke roared, kicking the closet door open and brandishing two chopsticks as weapons. He took one look at Gyutaro and his eyes practically sparkled. "YOU! NEW GUY! FIGHT ME!"

Oh... Inosuke.

Saying Gyutaro was prepared for a young human boy to challenge him to a chopstick fight would be a lie. The demon looked flabbergasted and Daki deadpanned. Kotoha had to cover her mouth to hide her smile and the laugh that was fighting her chest. It shouldn't be funny - it shouldn't! Her son was threatening a demon... but it definitely was.

Douma gave a quick cough to hide his own laugh: "That would be Inosuke."

"Touch him and I'll kill you," Akaza's threat was simple, monotone, and paired with his signature glare. The siblings almost shrunk beneath it, but in classic Inosuke fashion, the boy wouldn't have it.

"You better not! I'm gonna fight them!" Inosuke lectured. "I gotta practice."

Kotoha shook her head: "You will not be fighting them, Inosuke."

"But Mooooom -"

"Listen to your mother, brat," Akaza reprimanded. It was only then that Kotoha realized that in Inosuke's chaos, Miku had slipped away and snuck closer to the two demons, still in the safety of her Father's shadow.

"Wow," the girl's voice tore Daki away from the show of Inosuke and Akaza. The two made eye contact and stared for a very long moment.

Mirakuru gawked at the demon and said the first thing that came to her mind. "You're really pretty... are you a demon, like Daddy is?"

Kotoha smiled.

Daki tried not to sneer, which wasn't surprising. From what Kotoha remembered, these two were rather prideful. But, the demon held her tongue rather well all things considered.

"Yes," Daki answered slowly after a long, long moment.

"Wow, can you do cool things?" Mirakuru asked, creeping closer.

Daki scoffed and probably wondered why Douma had forsaken his life of immortality for this.

"You're really pretty and I bet you're strong too... of course, you're not as pretty as Mommy but that's okay!" Mirakuru grinned.

Kotoha placed her head in her hands and lamented her children's lack of social skills - not that there was anything she could do about it. Running from the demon king didn't leave her kids much time for socializing but she had to try and teach them some decorum one of these days.

Daki's eyebrow twitched Kotoha did not miss the momentary death glare sent her way. It likely would've been terrifying if the other demon, Gyutaro, wasn't still standing donning a picturesque look of confusion as Akaza and Inosuke's disagreement evolved into a full-blown familiar argument - the poor demon boy still at the threatening end of some chopsticks.

In her anger, however, Daki's eyes reverted to a familiar slashed form, and Mirakuru gasped. The little girl ran over to the kitchen and ran back with a stool in hand. She placed it down beside Daki, which had Douma drawing ever closer, and the Daki watched in utter confusion as the girl clambered up to her eye level. Douma, only a few feet away and watching very closely. The little girl grabbed the demon's cheeks and squished them as she looked into Daki's eyes.

Kotoha held the bridge of her nose and held in another sigh. She was going to have to sit these children down and talk about boundaries.

"Miku -"

"You're hurt too! Inosuke, come look she's hurt too!" she gasped as she looked at the demon's eyes. "So the mean man was bad to you too! You must be super brave, just like my Papa! Did you have to escape the scary place too? Did you get hurt? Did the mean man hurt you!? If he did, then he's super mean!! Don't worry though, the cuts only made your eyes look tough! That's what Inosuke says! You're still super pretty!" Mirakuru announced.

Okay... actually, maybe her kids were good at being endearing because that was adorable. Kotoha looked up and found Daki's eyes wide as she regarded the child with a new sort of appreciation. Oh good, at least one of her children was endearing. The other -

"I WANNA FIGHT HIM!" Inosuke roared, deaf to everything Miku had just said as he pointed a chopstick to Gyutaro.

"YOU COULDN'T FIGHT A KITTEN IF I DECLAWED IT!!" Akaza roared back, stepping between the two, trying to keep his tongue civil for the children present.

"I CAN FIGHT YOU!!" Inosuke challenged.

"REALLY!?" Akaza shot back.

"Inosuke," Kotoha interjected, shutting the boy up. "Be nice and greet our guests."

Inosuke puffed out his cheeks and then stuck his tongue out at Akaza. He then turned to Gyutaro and Daki before bowing.

"Nice to meet you. We'll fight later," Inosuke grumbled.

Douma finally broke, leaning on the wall and chuckling to see the antics. Kotoha did the same, looking over their little... gathering. What a strange group they were.

Chapter Text

Gyutaro was supposed to be jealous. He was supposed to be hateful, spiteful, and furious. Sometimes he was. He had to coexist with two demons who'd haunted his every insecurity. Akaza and his strength. Douma and his beauty. This should've been a new form of hell for him. But he was laughing. Against all odds his chest was curling with sick warmth and his mind was empty of rotting envy. He was laughing because Douma's kid just got fucking slapped by Akaza and the kid had just got a face full of dirt! It was hilarious! He'd almost fallen off the branch he perched on, he was laughing so hard.

"Keep your feet closer together; up, we do it again!" Akaza ordered. Surprisingly, the kid went from laying sprawled to charging in once more with fearless determination, with a tiny roar on his lips. Gyutaro only hummed from where he sat in the trees. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic...

Akaza easily dodged the little kid's futile attempt at a punch and danced around the child, giving him the gentlest kick Gyutaro had ever seen the demon deliver. It still made the kid double over, coughing and rasping as his breath left him. The kid fell to his hands and knees, like the useless little thing he was, and Gyutaro snickered to see that pretty face contort in fury and pain.

"You're too eager. Keep your emotions in check when it comes to your control. Get as angry as you want but use that to perfect your attacks, not weaken them. Understand?" Three's voice was stern and Gyutaro wanted to sneer at how smooth it sounded. Nothing like his own voice... nothing like him...

The envy was back in his chest, gnawing on his ribs like his hunger.

"I get it! Okay!? I get it!" Inosuke yelled back surprisingly heartily as he pushed himself up again and whirled around, his fists raised.

"Open your palms," Akaza encouraged - his tone always strange to Gyutaro. Something in the way the traitorous demons spoke made his skin crawl. It was... wrong; cushioned and dull. Akaza's voice had always been sharp, like a slayer's blade through demon flesh. Douma's had always been light and piercing, like the shrieking sound of two blades when they met. Now both demons spoke with their voices dull and gentle, like their teeth and claws. It was just wrong.

"They're open!" the human boy's snark pulled Gyutaro back to the entertainment at hand. The boy copied Akaza's stance and stood ready; in preparation.

"I'm going to punch, and you're going to block," Akaza stated dangerously, there was the tone Gyutaro was more familiar with.

"Come at me!" the brat challenged.

Akaza did so and the kid went fucking flying. Gyutaro almost fell out of the tree, cackling, as the kid fell backward, sprawling. GOD! Didn't the brat get that it was useless? That was Upper-Fucking-THREE and he was a scrawny lump of flesh! It was too good -

"Well if you're so prepared, why don't you come down here and try it, Six."

Gyutaro stopped laughing as that dangerous tone was turned to him. He looked down and met Akaza's glare. The damn brat was at his side, wiping blood off his nose. His pretty little eyes were tearing. Oh, come on - was Three really about to punish him for making a human cry?

He could do so much worse.

"You heard me," Akaza growled and Gyutaro's skin crawled. Akaza wasn't a Muzan-level threat, but he wasn't much further down. If push came to shove Gyutaro had a feeling Akaza could rip him apart and stake him to the ground until the sun rose. He'd probably enjoy it too.

Best to obey and get the worst of it over. He climbed out of the tree, sneering as he walked up and glared up at Akaza. He stood perfectly still and threw Akaza a glare he wouldn't have dared level with Muzan. The best thing about defecting, was now his superiors couldn't read his mind so he could thin whatever he wanted! So come on, get out your fucking anger you emotionally-constipated-striped idiot.

But... there was no punch thrown. Gyutaro cocked his head in confusion as Akaza rolled his eyes and stepped away.

"You're really going to defend yourself with that stance?" Akaza demanded.

Defend? Defend!?

"What?" Gyutaro hissed.

"If you think you stand more of a chance than Inosuke, put up your damn hands, and let's see how trained you are," Akaza demanded.

"Fuck him up, Akaza," Inosuke grinned, his voice nasally as he held his nose. Gyutaro glanced at the human boy who was staring at the two, so irritatingly intrigued with a dumb grin on his face.

Gyutaro would give him something to cry about if the brat wasn't careful.

"Language," Akaza threw the boy a glare as he gestured for Gyutaro to get into position. "And no weapons, Six. This is open-handed combat."

Gyutaro slowly mirrored the superior demon and scoffed: The fuck was the point of open-handed -

The punch came like a lightning strike and collided with his gut. It was clear Akaza had cushioned his blow because while his insides got scrambled and a rib definitely cracked, the punch didn't go clean through him. His organs were fucked but they stayed nicely inside him.

Gyutaro went for Akaza's neck, meaning to pierce it with his claws but Akaza's other hand was there, knocking his hands away and flying for Gyutaro's exposed face. Gyutaro's jaw shattered under the blow and he stumbled back, his chest still fixing itself as his organs reeled from the pain. Akaza was there again, fist poised for his face once more.

Oh fuck.

Gyutaro stumbled back and threw up his hands, sickles coming to their position to defend the next blow but again, that never came.

"Put your weapons away and open your damn eyes you idiot," Akaza's voice pulled Gyutaro back. The demon had fallen still, backing away. There was a shame creeping up Gyutaro's neck as his sickles evaporated - and he couldn't figure out why. The striped demon looked exasperated as he tore Gyutaro apart with a glare. The judgment - it twisted the lesser demon's gut more than the punch had. "Bring your arms away from your face, you've left your chest wide open. Keep one hand by the chest and the other a little higher - yes! Like that. Inosuke - get into position. You're both imbeciles!"

"The fuck are you doing?" Gyutaro demanded as the striped demon turned and gently pulled Inosuke's hand closer to his face to fix his posture.

"Teaching you how to fight, Six. Since you were so eager to make fun of the brat, figured you should get a taste of it. Both of you are pathetic weaklings - amateurs!" Akaza scolded in exasperation.

"Hey!" Inosuke cried, offended.

"I was laughing because there's no way that kid's ever getting to your level!" Gyutaro snapped back.

"Neither will you," Akaza stated, though the threat was as clear as the fury in the demon's eyes. Don't fuck with him - Gyutaro knew that message well enough. "But here you are, learning. So shut up and fix your posture."

Stunned, Gyutaro stowed his sickles away.. and he obeyed. What else was he supposed to do?

The kid snorted as Gyutaro relented and the demon sneered. It was humiliating, honestly, to have such a low-level human demean him and live. Why would Akaza put up with it? Why would Douma?! Were they happy letting this human flesh bag grow up to be so arrogant and wrong? It was like watching a dog eat at the dining room table. Gyutaro glanced at the kid's face and felt the familiar wave of envy seep into his blood as Akaza praised Inosuke's footing before giving the kid a slow demonstration of a kick (one the kid was almost prepared to block).

Why was he envious? Was it the brat's natural soft face? How it still held that cute childish stupidity that had never clung to Gyutaro. Was it the boy's innocence, even though he was nearly grown? The fact that the human had been spoiled and pampered even though he'd grown up in a cult. Fucking brat got everything he wanted, no arguments or punishments. No... no, it was something more.

Gyutaro saw how gentle Akaza was with the boy... how tenderly Douma called his name. This boy was loved and that was grossly, disgustingly unfair. Gyutaro squeezed his fists until his nails dug into his skin as he imagined all the wonderful ways he could take out that jealousy. His skin itched and begged to be ripped into so he scratched at his neck, tearing into his own hideous stupid terrifying body. The envy... the envy... Such pretty images came to mind that brought Gyutaro comfort. Pretty eyes could be gouged out. Arrogant tongues could be ripped. Humans were such soft, squishy things. Gyutaro could rip that spoiled brat apart inch by inch by inch -

"One day, I'll be as good as you!"

Gyutaro's mind skidded to a halt and he stared down quizzically at the child who was grinning up at him. Akaza had gone off to find a stick... for something and now it was just the two of them in the clearing. The visions were still dancing in Gyutaro's head... and it would be so easy. Of course, he'd immediately get torn apart by Akaza and that would be... unpleasant. The kids eyes though, he didn't get the look in them - the shine as the brat grew closer to a predator who'd love to know how sweet his blood ran.

"What?" Gyutaro sneered at the boy, his nails stopping their scratching, his own blood caught beneath them.

"Positions!" Akaza barked from the tree line and Gyutaro resisted the urge to snark back, but arguing with Three would probably result in his ass getting handed to him... for real, this time.

He and the boy did as Akaza bade but the boy looked up at him again, with something strange in his eyes. No fear... no disgust... just something bright and eager.

"Akaza barely had to pull his punches! You're strong and look like a real badass! And your weapons were so cool! I'll be as good as you one day, just you watch!" the boy grinned.

"As good?" Gyutaro questioned. What was this kid talking about -

"Focus Inosuke! Go through your forms; now!" Akaza barked again, walking over with a large tree bough, and the boy obeyed. "Gyutaro! You're with me, we're fixing that horrendous thing you call a stance."

Gyutaro felt almost dazed as he squared up to spar, he was sparring, with Three. The brat was sparring a literal tree limb and Gyutaro was sparring with Akaza. The demon fixed his posture in strange ways and began to teach him how the fuck the guy fought with no hands. And not once did his blows break Gyutaro's hideous skin. It wasn't... totally awful. As they went through the motions, Gyutaro dissected the look the brat had given him. He rolled that expression over in his mind as he tried to ignore the obvious.

Gyutaro was shunted out of his thoughts as he jumped away from Akaza's blows. Akaza's next kick was way too predictable for the demon's normal repertoire, but his blocking technique did cushion the power there pretty well. It shook his body, but no bones broke.

"Hey, look at that, you can improve," Akaza chuckled as he backed away.

Gyutaro ignored the desperate pride in his chest. He wasn't that pathetic to need praise from a bastard like Three. Still, as they reset, the demon looked over to where Inosuke was punching the large tree branch - gently.

"Keep your mind from wandering." Akaza's order startled him and he snapped back into position.

"It's not wandering," Gyutaro defended.

Akaza only rolled his eyes: "Sure. Well, whatever it's doing is distracting you. Get control of it, I'm going to help Inoske before he splits his knuckles. I'll be back."

Gyutaro watched him go and found his answer.

That look. It was the same look the kid gave when Akaza splintered the branch with his kick in a demonstrative show of power. It was... wonder. Admiration. Gyutaro studied the kid intensely because the notion was ridiculous... but... it was the same look. The boy... admired him. Not only because he was strong (which he wasn't compared to Akaza or Douma... his envy could scream all it wanted but that was true), but also because he, Gyutaro, looked... cool.

He looked cool.

Huh... he looked back at the kid and felt himself pick apart the words again as he looked at his twisted form and discolored skin. A real badass...

Who would've thought? The kid would never be as good as him...

But he... wanted to be?

Daki nearly puked when Douma handed her the corpse of a bird.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with that!?" she demanded of Two.

"Eat it," Douma explained flatly. His lips were stained with scarlet from the damn rodent he'd stuffed in his face. The smell of the bird was curling Daki's stomach - she was supposed to live off this!?

Was it too late to change their mind about this whole alliance shit?

"You expect us to live like this!?" Daki demanded. The memory of sweet blood sat on her tongue like a ghost. All the wonderful tasting women who smelled as tender and sweet as they tasted - the way their blood was a rush of warmth and strength. This... this animal's blood smelled a sewer and Daki had a suspicion it would leave her feeling like one.

"You get used to it," Douma laughed, a fake laugh, of course. He tossed her the grey pheasant-looking thing and Daki caught it, her lip curling as her hand touched the blood of the foul-smelling thing.

She considered just dropping the joke of a meal, but when she looked up, Two's eyes were a piercing weight of expectance. This was a test, she realized. This was how he tested whether or not she was loyal. Whether or not she and Gyutaro meant it. Maybe her plan to sneak out with Gyutaro later to find some real food wouldn't do her any good. Maybe this whole idea was terrible -

"If you don't want to eat it, you don't have to," Douma shrugged. "I just thought you may be hungry."

And he started walking away.

Daki watched him go warily, glancing between the back of his head and the bird in hand. It was definitely a test... right? To - to see how loyal she could be, how well she obeyed. Yeah, that made sense -

Oh god, but she had to eat this thing!?

She slowly brought the feathered monstrosity to her lips and crunched downward. It was vile. She sputtered out the feathers and the flesh as the sour, revolting taste of animal blood flooded her mouth. She felt filthy just tasting it.

"Not to your liking?" Douma asked and Daki looked up to find Two staring at her from down the slope. His expression was unreadable, but Daki didn't like the darkness in his eyes. There was a staunch familiarity to the way Muzan held himself right before he snapped. That same sort of calm, cool, callousness that made Daki's legs shake.

"No! No, it's fine!" Daki defended... not desperately, never desperately. She just needed to be better. If she played this charade long enough she and Gyutaro could slip away. This was a stupid idea in the first place. It was going to get them both killed! Stupid! Stupid Gyutaro! Why was Gyutaro so stupid? Why did he think this was a good plan!? Why -

"Hey." Clawed hands snatched the bird out of Daki's hands and Daki almost flinched. Douma held the bird in a hand and smiled... not... not a dangerous smile, but a soft one. Could be a fake one.A sort of smile that curled his colorful eyes and softened his gaze. "No worries, I'm not a big bird person either - Akaza though, he loves these feathery things. He plucks them before eating. We'll save it for him."

Daki was so shocked she hardly noticed her hands were shaking. He - he wasn't angry with her? She basically spat out the gift he gave her and Two wasn't angry!?

"Do you think you'd prefer something with fur? Or maybe scales? I don't usually eat reptiles but if you'd prefer them I'm sure we could find a few," Douma continued. He continued walking away like he hadn't just left Daki in a crisis.

She forced a sneer to her face and followed Two. She'd watch him: watch for what made him work. What made him tick. She'd learn the boundaries and how to survive. She'd done it with Muzan she could do it with Douma...

Except... Did she really do it with Muzan though? Apparently, the demon lord had hated her enough to make Gyutaro kill her... but, but he had said she was doing wonderfully. He'd called her beautiful! If she messed it up that badly with Muzan, maybe she was already fucking it up here. She could feel the strength ebbing away after a few days of starvation. She could play nice with Douma, until he got tired of her too. They always got tired of her... it seemed.

She continued trekking after Two, shame and hatred prickling in her blood and on her skin. It had all been lies. Maybe it had always been lies. She wasn't pretty, she wasn't brilliant, she wasn't useful, she wasn't stronger. Maybe she never had a charade to keep up after all.

Muzan had always known what she was... and she hadn't fooled anyone. Not Gyutaro, not Kokushibo, and apparently not Douma...

She wasn't Upper Six... She was just a girl with blood on her hands. Weak and scared but strong enough to kill. Just Ume.

A beat. A breath. Branches broke and birds startled. Daki's breath came in heaves as if her still lungs were tasting the air for the first time.

Her ribbons had splayed out, impaling and gripping the trees around her. One had even caught an unsuspecting mouse and squeezed the life out of it, just on instinct. Her vision was white and the air seemed cold. Why was it all so cold and burning?!

Ume. She hadn't thought of that name in years and she hated that she still could. The fuzzy memories were beating at the back of her mind. Gyutaro had always remembered - it was his job to remember. Not hers! She could forget! She wanted to forget! Let her forget again!

"Daki! Daki, what happened?" that was a familiar voice: not a good voice but a familiar voice. It was a strange name too... Daki? No, no she was Ume - NO, she was Daki! Daki! Upper Six! FUCK, no she wasn't even that anymore!

Where was Gyutaro? Gyutaro would know what to do.

"Daki!"

Her eyes flew open and she found herself kneeling on the ground, holding her head, her ribbons still surrounding her in a protective and violent knot. Upper Two stood just outside of it, staring down at her like he had stared down at her in that foggy, fuzzy memory of a cold night when everything in her had burned. Always the same. Alway the same...

"Where's my brother!?" Ume demanded. No - not Ume. She couldn't be Ume! Ume was weak and worthless and useless and dead! But Daki wasn't much better...

"Gyutaro is back at the house, do you need me to get him?" the demon asked... softly. Why was he so damn soft!? He was Upper Two! Heartless, creepy, cold, beautiful, a killer! A stone-cold merciless hungry killer! Just like Muzan.

But he seemed so warm and the air was so cold!! Or maybe it was too cold... too cold, it burned...

"He can make the memories go away! Make them go away!" she screamed. Ume, Daki, it didn't matter she just wanted her head to stop tearing itself in two!

"Calm down." An order. Daki was to obey orders - that had kept her alive this long. Except it hadn't! It hadn't because Muzan wanted her dead now for doing nothing! She was to be punished and she hadn't done anything this time! She didn't deserve to burn!!

"You're right," Douma soothed. "You didn't deserve to burn."

Dammit - she'd said that aloud. God, she couldn't even panic quietly!

"Go away! I want Gyutaro!" she demanded. She was acting childish but goddammit she was a child! She and Gyutaro were both kids so give her Gyutaro! He could fix this! He would! He fixed everything!

"You're not going to burn," Douma promised. "Breathe, Daki. He cannot make you burn, not here. You're safe."

But she wasn't. She wasn't safe anywhere... Muzan would hunt her no matter where she went. Both her and Gyutaro - because Gyutaro hadn't been able to kill her! The through cut her like a knife and she slammed her fist into the ground.

If Gyutaro died it would be her fault. It's always been her fault!

"I HATE HIM!" she screamed. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I didn't do anything! Why did he want me dead!? Why!? He wanted Gyutaro, not me! Why!? Why!? Why!?"

Her ribbons fell to the ground and the rage in her blood broiled dangerously. Still, the world was clearer now. She was Daki... she had once been Ume but that was a long, long time ago. The memories were still blurry and she was okay with that, those memories brought nothing but pain.

"He hurts what he can't understand," Douma explained, taking a tentative step forward.

Daki ground her teeth against each other as Two knelt down before her, his eyes gleaming. She saw a strange sort of emotion in those rainbow irises... it wasn't pity, and it wasn't pride. It was something between the two.

"He can't understand the love you and Gyutaro have. He can't understand how someone would be willing to sacrifice everything for someone else because he wouldn't sacrifice anything... for anyone." Douma slowly reached out and placed a hand on Daki's shoulder. She slowly dug her claws into the dirt and felt the rage die away, just the slightest bit.

"You did nothing wrong: we were damned from the moment we turned - there was never a way to please him. You can't reason it out because there is no reason. He is just... evil."

"So are we," Daki sneered as she glared into Two's eyes. "I did everything for him! Everything he wanted! I... I thought I did good."

"I know," Two soothed... and the worst part was he did. Daki knew he did and she hated that she could see the empathy in this bastard's face. She couldn't even belief the fucker was faking! The sympathy was too raw. Too real. "I know... but you're free now."

That sentence made her pause. Free? Clearly, her confusion showed because Douma smiled.

"You're free to go, whenever you want, wherever you want. I only ask that if you want to stay with us, you don't harm humans," he explained.

"Why do you care so much for those flesh bags anyway?" Daki muttered scornfully. "They'll die in a few years! Why would you tick him off for something so stupid? He actually liked you! You would've stayed safe!"

"Safe? No, no, we were never safe. And as for why I fell in love with a human? Well, that's the beauty in it, isn't it? Love doesn't care about all that... I think. It just... happens? Besides, humans are strangely beautiful because they don't last as long. Maybe you'll see it soon, but I think humans are far closer to perfection than demons are. Maybe that's why he will never reach perfection... because he strayed too far from humanity too long ago..." Douma's voice tamped off for a moment as he thought before he seemed to snap back into reality, clap his hands together, and smile. "My, my, seems I rambled a bit. Sorry about that, now let's finish up this hunt and head back!"

With that, Ex-Upper Two got to his feet and left Daki to stand on her own and crawl over the shards of truth and realization that were scattered at her feet.

Freedom... she was... free? She... loved? After spending so much time hating the concept was sort of... ridiculous? Hate formed her - molded her. She'd carved everything soft out of her when she climbed out of that ashen pit and yet... Muzan hated her because she... loved? She thought of the little warmth Ume had known, and how it was always in the arms of her brother. That was... love? It was the only thing she'd ever really cared about.

She loved her brother... he was all she had... but she loved him? Maybe... maybe she did...

Either way, fuck Muzan.

"Ta-da!!" The human brat Miku announced as she showed off her mother's new hairstyle which consisted of too many bows and loose strands to be even remotely attractive. It brought a smile to Douma's face and that smile was something strange for Daki to study.

Honestly, it all just made her head hurt.

The door to the cabin they had "temporarily stolen" opened and in walked the three idiots. Douma's other kid ran up to his mother and began to rant about his stance and how he'd gotten better and how 'no mom, the blood was from my nose - no Dad, Akaza didn't hit me that hard!'

Speak of the devil, in walked Three, looking as aggressive and idiotic as ever. After him came Gyutaro who looked... strangely calm.

The night progressed and Daki slipped closer to Gyutaro. The two of them found themselves in a corner of the house, alone enough to sit down and think it all over. For their second day here, it hadn't gone bad. Neither of them had 'died' yet.

"So, what do you think? Do we hang around?" her brother asked softly. Daki only shrugged and listened to Douma telling his two brats a story - one Akaza kept critiquing. Kotoha was laughing... and Daki would bet she still had Miku's horrendous hairstyle up.

"I... don't know," she murmured in response. "It's... weird here."

"Yeah... it is." Gyutaro crouched down and leaned on her leg, a sickle in hand that he fidgeted with.

"It's warm."

He looked up at her, tilting his head like a puppy or a young child. She... remembered him doing that. He'd looked different, but the expression had been the same: "Warm?"

"It's warmer here, not too hot though... I don't know why," Daki murmured. "It just is."

Gyutaro only hummed in response.

It seemed... that the two would stay.

Things changed drastically for Gyutaro and Daki after that. Their feeding habits were strictly monitored by Douma and while it was reminiscent of serving Muzan there was definitely a more intimate touch granted, one that might even be mistaken for a sort of bond that sat beyond the definition of an alliance. No human flesh meant they'd be protected and after a month or so, the family was delivered a pint of blood on the back of some cat that wore a paper slip on its forehead and bore an apology for the late delivery. Akaza, Gyutaro, and Daki split it amongst them and were delighted to find it was indeed marechi. It wasn't much, but Daki and Gyutaro felt that this just may be survivable.

They didn't have to walk on eggshells anymore and strangely enough, they seemed to feel themselves change as they hung around gentler, kinder people. Shaped once into monsters it felt like they could be shaped back into... something else. How strange...

How strange...

How warm.

Chapter Text

Years passed in surprising swiftness. Inosuke grew from a young menace to a young man. He wore the pelt of a deceased boar he'd befriended. He claimed it to be the 'spirit of the mountains' and Douma had heard stranger. He learned to just accept whatever Inosuke rambled on about with a smile and a level of confusion that would never be satisfied. The boy had learned dual-wielding from him and perfected it with Gyutaro. He was, apparently, a menace to humans with his skill in hand-to-hand combat, courtesy of the deemed "Uncle Akaza", and had taken out a good few unfortunate demon slayers who'd gotten too curious (and, Douma wasn't placing blame but it was usually Gyutaro or Daki's fault).

Tamayo sent as much blood as she could, but it wasn't always enough and while Douma could easily do without, Daki and Gyutaro didn't hold such thoughts. A skimpy meal would lead to the forest animals being decimated, and if any decent demon slayer was around, the sight of a demon tearing an animal apart wasn't the most reassuring of scenarios. Miraculously, the two siblings hadn't killed anyone of note yet. They hadn't even tried. The same could be said for Inosuke honestly.

The boy had been twelve when he first saw a demon slayer try and take on a very self-controlled Gyutaro, and Douma was impressed to say he had to drag his menace of a child off the poor human while Gyutaro did nothing but cackle in the background.

So yes, Inosuke had grown from a little wild child to a full-grown beast. He sparred with Akaza on the regular and had somehow managed to learn to manipulate his organs around his body to cushion them from some of the demon's harsher blows (When Douma said he almost committed murder when he saw Akaza punch the boy so hard his lungs should've burst, he meant it. The striped ball of anger issues only lived because Inosuke jumped back to his feet and laughed it off). The boy was also known to give Gyutaro and Daki a good spar once in a while, though Daki apparently "cheated" too often and Gyutaro was a poor loser (and so never lost). It only pushed Inosuke to be better, faster, stronger... Taking on the occasional demon that they stumbled upon and learning to sense danger before it sensed him.

He was a true menace, and Inosuke was proud of it. Kotoha was too.

Douma only felt... guilt? The child had grown up on the run, fleeing a monster that sent even his father trembling. That lifestyle and his natural heightened senses made him a very aware individual. Douma had forced that on him. He'd mandated a lifestyle that forged warriors. The boy knew all too well the dangers of demons and demon slayers alike but he possessed a strange calling - a calling to hunt the monster who for so long hunted them.

Douma blamed himself for that too.

Inosuke, meanwhile, figured his father gave himself too much credit. He was the great Lord Inosuke - he was gonna be great no matter how he grew up! And he had a mission!

"A demon slayer?" Gyutaro sneered as he messed about with his scythes, his eyes hungrily following a small bird a few feet away. "Why would you want to do that?"

"To kill demons," Inosuke huffed back, holding two swords that he had stolen from attacking demon slayers. Douma had let him keep them and he'd been delighted. Inosuke had made the most of them and wore the serrated blades proudly. They'd slain mountain lions and bears alike and they'd taste plenty of demon blood one day, he'd make sure of it.

"Again, why would you want to do that?" Gyutaro demanded, sending a glare at the boy as they sat there on the moss-covered mountainside.

"If I kill the minor demons, there'll be less trouble for you and the old man. Besides, if I stay, I'll be a burden," Inosuke growled, sitting down beside Gyutaro who was on the ground, staring up at the moon.

"Burden?" Gyutaro echoed with a snark.

"I'm human, and I'm weak," Inosuke grumbled. "It'll be easier for you all to protect yourselves if you don't have to worry about me."

Gyutaro shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.

"The old man's not gonna like it," Inosuke continued.

"No, probably not," Gyutaro agreed. "But hell, do what you want to do."

Inosuke chuckled and looked up at the stars, his eyes glimmering with raw energy and passion. "I want to get strong and be the best. I want to kill all of those demon bastards, and slaughter their king."

Gyutaro's eyes darkened at the mention of Muzan but he nodded. Once upon a time, a few years ago, Gytaro had despised the boy he now talked to. The boy was beautiful, lively, and loved, all things that made Gyutaro sick with envy but Inosuke held a certain idiotic charm to him. After years of watching the boy grow, even Gyutaro could admit that there was a spirit in the boy that surpassed his outward appearance. He hid behind a boar's mask not because he was ugly but because he didn't care for his appearance. One could even argue that the boy helped teach Gyutaro a level of humility. For those reasons, Gyutaro hoped that Inosuke never happened upon the demon lord... Gyutaro hated the idea of another pretty spirit getting burned alive by the fires of hell...

Muzan was fair when it came to killing. He didn't care if you were ugly, beautiful, spirited, lively, or better off dead. He killed all humans just the same. He'd slaughter Inosuke without a second thought. Gyutaro had been like that once. But even then Muzan had possessed a cruelty that no demon seemed to be able to live up to.

"You'll need to get stronger before you can even dream of challenging him," Gyutaro sneered.

"I'll get there," Inosuke cackled, jumping to his feet. "I'll be Inosuke! King of the mountains and slayer of demons!"

Gyutaro gave a wry grin and nodded, "Well... you'll have to go to final selection."

"What's that?" Inosuke asked, looking back.

Gyutaro leaned back and pondered for a moment. "I hear it from demon slayers sometimes, it's some initiation ritual or something. A trial to prove your worth."

"I'm worthy!" Inosuke yelled.

"Probably," Gyutaro nodded. "But if you actually make it in the corps, you need to keep your damn mouth shut."

Inosuke cackled, "Who would I tell!? They're all weak humans anyway!"

A dry chuckle rumbled from Gyutaro's chest. "Exactly."

Douma was less than pleased. He listened to Inosukes's announcement with a blank expression on his face. Inosuke looked at his adoptive father and knew that he was talking to a solid wall. The guy wouldn't even consider it. He was wearing that face; that face he put on when he had made up his mind.

His parents stood in the doorway, the night sky above them. Inosuke had planted himself outside, his swords strapped to his sides, his boar mask up, and the proudest posture he could manage. Knowing it was a losing battle when it came to his father, Inosuke changed targets.

"Mom," Inosuke pleaded, looking to Kotoha who was holding herself uncertainly.

"I-I don't know Inosuke," Kotoha murmured. "It's going to be dangerous. We already have a target on our back - "

"I know," Inosuke grinned proudly. "I can do it! Besides, we don't even know if the demons know what I look like, and I have a mask!"

"No," Douma stated firmly. "You will not become a demon slayer."

"Why not!?" Inosuke demanded. His fists at his side were trembling. "I can't just sit around here for the rest of my life! Not while you guys are being hunted! I can help! I have to help! This is the best chance for me to get stronger! I will kill the damn dogs who serve the demon king and their corpses will serve as springboards to my success!! Every demon I kill will help me until I am strong enough. Strong enough to be helpful!"

Kotoha bit her lip, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. Perfect. No offense to his dad, but Inosuke knew his mother would at least try to listen. Douma was just so... scared sometimes.

"Mom, I want to help," Inosuke pleaded. "Let me do this. I can do this. You know I can!"

Kotoha swallowed a dry lump in her throat and forced a sort of smile. She looked up at her son and recognized that he was grown. He was fit, wild, and desperate to do something in his life other than run. It hurt her, in a way she couldn't quite place, but what she could place was empathy. She knew that the worst possible fate for a person was to force them to stay somewhere they didn't desire to stay. She couldn't stop him, it would only create a divide between them. She treasured her son... but there was a difference between love and possession. She'd learned that long ago. Inosuke was his own person... this was his choice.

"Alright," she agreed, reluctantly. "But you must swear to me that you will be careful. And I mean swear, Inosuke."

"I will -" Inosuke began.

"He will. Because he's not going," Douma stated simply.

Kotoha and Inosuke both looked to the demon, stunned. As if they should expect any different. Douma's hands shook so he held them behind him because all he could see, all he could think about were the many different corpses he'd feasted on. All the different blood-stained uniforms, all the broken swords, all the screams and the choked gasps and the wails... and he saw Inosuke at his feet, sliced or torn or ripped into too many pieces to count.

"Douma - " Kotoha began, her voice heavy.

"No." Douma's face was blank, his hands folded behind him.

"I can do this - " Inosuke argued with reignited fury.

Suddenly, there was a golden fan pressing against the side of Inosuke's neck. The boy looked up shocked at Douma who stood before him, his rainbow eyes flickering with emotions. Kotoha had jumped at the suddenness of it all.

"If this had been in the hands of any other demon, you would be dead," Douma stated monotonously, his lips curled into a scowl.

Inosuke hissed in displeasure, shoved Douma's arm away, and drew his two swords. "If it were any other demon, I wouldn't have let my damn guard down."

"And if it disguised itself? If it took the form of me to get your guard down!? If it took the form of your mother!? Of Miku!?"

"Inosuke! Douma!" Kotoha cried in outrage.

"No, Kotoha, I will not sway on this matter," Douma stated firmly, drawing his other fan slowly, letting it glimmer in the moonlight. "Slayers walk a path of blood and death, the same which has led thousands just like him to their deaths. Inosuke, how are you any different from demon slayers who've been slaughtered and devoured."

"Uh -I won't die!" Inosuke yelled back, getting into a fighting position with an arrogant grin on his face.

Douma was upon him in moments, his fans clashing against the worn nichirin steel of Inosuke's twin blades.

"No... because you will stay here," Douma hissed.

Inosuke bared his teeth and forced Douma away with a yell, retaliating with a few slashes of his swords, all of which were avoided by Douma. Douma's face was shadowed when he moved again, appearing behind Inosuke pressing the edges of his fans against either side of Inosuke's neck once more. The boy's eyes didn't even widen, there wasn't a hint of fear in his eyes.

It could've made Douma scream. Had he raised his boy to be so blind to the dangers of his kind!?

"What happens when you meet a demon like me? One who's devoured thousands of lives and has their power surging through their blood? One who is favored by him?" Douma demanded coldly. "One who won't show you a shred of mercy!?"

"I'll kill them," Inosuke yelled back, using his swords to push the fans away and whirling around to face Douma. The boy was quick. Eager and flexible. His attacks were fierce and his speed would've startled any lesser demon. Douma was no lesser demon. He blocked his son's blows, simply, his rainbow eyes unchanged. Inosuke continued, not phased in the least. He seemed to put everything he had into his attacks, cruelly trying to hack his swords into Douma's flesh. It was futile as Douma was faster, stronger, and smarter. Had he been trying to kill Inosuke, the boy would be dead, and Inosuke knew it.

"Alright, stop it!" Kotoha demanded firmly. "This isn't solving anything!"

Douma ignored the woman, his love, his light, and instead slashed out with a fan, clashing with Inosuke's swords, the mere strength of it making one sword fly out of Inosuke's hand. Inosuke made the fatal mistake of looking back to where the sword had fallen, too shocked to think. Too shocked to save himself. Douma knocked him down and stood over the boy, stepping on his wrist so that the boy couldn't lift his remaining sword.

"What happens when you can't kill them?" Douma taunted coldly. "What happens when you meet one who can't die no matter how many times he is sliced, beheaded, stabbed, burned, ripped apart, or crushed!? What happens when the sun is hours from rising and you lying in the grass, bleeding out as a monster like me approaches you? What happens then?"

Inosuke growled and struggled, trying to pull his wrist free but Douma did not budge. Could not. Would not.

"Best case scenario: you're eaten," Douma answered cooly. "Painfully. Worst case? You'll be the next foe on our doorstep."

Inosuke froze at the concept.

"He hates me, Inosuke. I feel it every day, in my blood; he hates me," Douma explained darkly, leaning down to stare his rebellious son down. "If he cannot harm me then he will do whatever he can to hurt those close to me. That means your mother, Mirakuru, and you. He will bend and twist you as he's done with every other demon until you don't even remember your own name. He'll send you to hunt us down because he thinks that of all the demons to bring Miku to him, it'll be the one I cannot kill! And he is right to think so." Douma's voice was laced with emotion as he bore his fangs and spoke his fears.

Inosuke looked up and realized that Douma's eyes were tearing.

"If he finds you... if he changes you... Inosuke... I don't know if I can kill you."

It haunted Douma every waking minute. The thought of what Muzan could and would do to make him suffer for his betrayal. He couldn't risk it... he couldn't. If he could have nightmares, they would be of Inosuke wearing a demon's grin, Kotoha laughing a demon's screech, or Miku with human blood on her lips, staining her teeth. They would be Muzan's hands around Miku again, or Inosuke, or Kotoha...

"That's a stupid fear," Inosuke's voice shattered the nightmare.

Douma blinked: "What?"

"Of course you can do that!" Inosuke laughed - far too confidently. "If I'm turned into a demon, then I'm not Inosuke anymore! If I can't break out of it like you, Uncle, Gyutaro, or Daki, then that's embarrassing and you can kill me no problem! I won't be Inosuke anymore!"

"And if you die!?" Douma hissed.

"I'm gonna die anyway," Inosuke shot back. "Either of boredom or when one of those attacking demons gets lucky and snags me. Why wait for death to come to me? I can go find it and fight it head-on!"

Douma was trembling, just the slightest bit.

"Come on, Dad. I don't want to wait around and die - I want to fight! I want to go. I need to go. Please!" Inosuke yelled, resorting to a plea.

"Douma," Kotoha murmured. Douma looked at her and saw her giving her that sad look. The look that meant he knew what to do even though he really didn't want to do it. "We can't hold on to him forever."

"But - " Douma tried to argue. His words died on his lips when he looked back at Inosuke. The boy had grown and was barely a child anymore... his human life was a fleeting one... and his choices were his own: but that was just it! His life was so short, couldn't he treasure i!t? Couldn't he live in what false security he could instead of running headfirst into a life of pain, loss, and heartbreak? Douma struggled to find another reason to make him stay, to force him to see reason. Inosuke had never been immensely reasonable... But he couldn't just let him go. Not to die. Not to die as so many had died...

"Come on, Douma," a voice sighed. They all looked over to see Akaza leaning on a tree. "If the brat wants to go, let him go. He's probably safer away from us anyway. He probably doesn't know what the brat looks like so the kid's gonna be fine. Or at the least he's got to make his own choices."

Douma ground his teeth together but slowly let Inosuke up. The boy got to his feet and sheathed his one sword, he then went to retrieve the other - too smugly.

"Brat," Akaza ordered of Inosuke.

"What!?" Inosuke demanded as he picked up his weapon.

"If you lose a fight. You die. Do you understand?"

Inosuke rolled his eyes. "I won't lose."

"If you lose a fight, die. Don't plead for your life, don't grovel to those bastards, you die. Understand?"

"I'm no pathetic weakling," Inosuke sneered, strapping his swords to his waist as he pulled his boar mask up to show his determined gaze.

"I know," Akaza grinned maniacally, "But who knows what those weak demon slayers will teach you!"

The two chuckled at that for a minute before the window to the house was thrown open with a clattering of eaves.

"Hey! If you idiots are done fighting, we finished human dinner so get your asses over here!" Daki yelled, sticking her head as far out as she could, which was fairly far given her ribbon neck.

"We made noodles!" Mirakuru cheered, hoisting up a bowl as high as she could so all could see it. "And I helped Daki catch a bear for the demons!! It's huge!!"

"She's getting pretty good at that demon art," Daki snickered as she slipped back into the house. "Poor bear didn't stand a chance."

Miku giggled at that. At the interruption, everyone slowly released their tension and Douma looked to his feet.

"Inosuke," he called to the boy who turned to face him.

"Yeah?"

"If you are to go... you must swear to me you will be careful."

"Of course," Inosuke grinned. "Don't worry."

"Oh, Inosuke," Kotoha muttered, coming over to Douma's side and grabbing his arm gently. "It's in your father's nature to worry."

"I don't fucking know about that," Daki sneered, suddenly emerging behind the doorframe before turning to Douma. "I'm gonna go help Gyutaro patrol. If you need me, call."

"If you all keep using that language around my daughter, someone will be left in the sun," Douma threatened with a smile on his face, his eyebrow twitching.

"Whatever you say," Daki rolled her eyes, she'd learned long ago to ignore empty threats. "Now go eat."

Inosuke followed the group back to the safe house, grinning to himself.

He was going to be a demon slayer.

And so, Inosuke went off that next evening, to find out how to become a demon slayer.

"You wear this mask at all times," Douma instructed as he placed the boar mask on the boy. "Demons may know your mother's face... which means they will know yours."

"Ah, you worry too much old man," Inosuke growled, but he didn't take the mask off. Douma knew the boy was fond of it and hopefully it would spare him.

"You keep your swords close, and stay safe," Kotoha smiled softly. She walked up beside Douma and rubbed the top of the boar mask.

"Don't worry Mom!" Inosuke cackled. "I'm Lord Inosuke of the Mountain!"

"Nii-chan!!" Mirakuru cried, running out of the small cabin that sat behind the couple and almost tackling Inosuke with her inhuman strength. She wrapped her arms around his stomach and squeezed him, making him gasp a bit. "I don't want you to go, Inosuke!!"

"Oi! Oi! Oi! What'chya crying for!?" Inosuke demanded, seeing his little sister with tears in her eyes.

"Wh-what if that bad man with the red eyes finds you! What if he tries to hurt you? I don't want you to get hurt Nii-chan!" Mirakuru cried desperately. Inosuke crouched down and cackled as he ruffled her hair.

"I won't get hurt! You all keep forgetting I am the great Lord Inosuke!!" Inosuke roared and with that, he hoisted Mirakuru into the air and put her on his shoulders before proceeding to run around the area making Mirakuru's saddened face turn into one of joy as she threw her hands in the air and laughed atop her brother.

Douma smiled and Kotoha leaned on his shoulder.

After a few minutes, Inosuke placed Mirakuru on the ground and ruffled her hair again.

"I'll be okay, I promise," Inosuke smiled.

Mirakuru bit her lip but bravely nodded, "Okay. Can... can I come with you?"

Inosuke grinned; "Course you can! Get a bit older and we'll kill demons together!"

He ignored the way Douma looked like his soul had left his body... again.

Miku grinned though and hugged him again.

"Please be safe Nii-chan... don't die..."

"I won't." Inosuke hugged her back. When they separated, he stood and looked at his parents before putting his hand on his hips and cackling. "I'll go kill loads of demons! Bet on it!"

"I will," Kotoha nodded, a sad murmur in her voice.

With that, Inosuke took off down the forest path, cackling like a maniac as he set off to find Final Selection and become a demon slayer.

"AY! AKAZA!" Inosuke yelled into the trees as he ran. "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE YOU PALE BASTARD! WHEN I COME BACK, I'M GONNA MAKE YOU BEG FOR MERCY!!"

Perched in a tree, Akaza snickered as he heard the boy's arrogant announcement ride the night air. He rearranged and laid with his hands holding his head and smiled.

"Maybe you will, but I doubt it," Akaza smiled.

"SAME GOES FOR YOU GYUTARO!" Inosuke's voice yelled into the darkness.

"JUST SHUT UP AND SCRAM BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF YOU FUCKING BRAT!!" Gyutaro's voice echoed back which made Akaza laugh.

Back at the house, Kotoha sighed at the sound of Gyutaro's cursing and Douma's face grew stern.

"Mom," Mirakuru asked, "Why does Gyutaro always say weird words like fuck?"

"Because he wants me to kill him," Douma smiled happily, hiding his emotions of simmering rage.

"Oh... that's weird," Mirkuru pondered.

"It's not weird sweetheart, it's lovable. One day, when you're a bit older, you can use those words too." Kotoha smiled, picking Mirakuru up and walking into the house. Once she was gone Douma looked up at a tree nearby, one which Daki was perched in.

"You'll keep an eye on him?" Douma asked.

"Yes, of course. I'll make sure your idiotic sack of flesh doesn't get himself killed," Daki rolled her eyes. "And probably get killed doing so."

"Thank you," Douma murmured too earnestly.

"Don't waste your thanks on me, just save me some of that blood bag. I'm gonna be starving out there," Daki scoffed before a fond smile lit up her lips and she disappeared into the trees, following Inosuke's trail as the boy set off for his future.

Chapter Text

Inosuke's choice left Douma feeling anxious. Extremely so. He had been gone for months and every day in a quiet house was a painful reminder of what he'd lost. He feared for the boy out in the world, even with Daki secretly tailing and watching out for him. Death took but a moment and if something happened... if Daki couldn't reach him in time... if the demon slayers found out where he came from... if Muzan found him...

He tried very hard to not consider such things.

He... he did understand that the boy had to go; he'd always had a wildness to him so it was only natural he chased after danger instead of fleeing from it. That still didn't stop Douma from seeing terrible visions of Daki bringing back a corpse. He found Kotoha crucial in soothing those daydreams away.

"It's normal to worry," she told him one day, as they took shelter in a small empty building. Douma was watching the warming horizon brighten with a familiar ferocity in his gaze. Daki hadn't returned for her check-in, which meant his boy was too far away, or...

Kotoha approached slowly: "You're not the only one."

"It doesn't feel normal," Douma confessed as he held his aching chest - it pained him. This worry pained him like a physical ailment and that couldn't be good for anyone. Kotoha wrapped her arms around him and laughed, pressing her forehead into the space under his shoulder blades.

"Gyutaro's worried," she murmured. "So's Akaza. I'm sure wherever Daki is, she's worried too."

"Gyutaro?" Douma asked, caught genuinely by surprise. "He's just... angrier."

"That's how you know he's worried," Kotoha teased. "We all show our worry differently. Gyutaro's been so irritable lately because he's scared for little Inosuke. You've been so quiet because you're scared too. Miku's been so determined because she's insistent on being just like her brother."

"Oh please no." If Douma's heart was still beating, it would've had palpitations at the thought of Miku going off to hunt demons.

Kotoha laughed as she slid under his arm and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his face. "It's how I know we love each other; the worry we hold."

That did ease some of the pain, strangely enough, replacing it with a prickling warmth that echoed through his very being. They settled down, Douma laying his head in Kotoha's lap and staring up at the wooden ceiling as his mind wondered...

 Akaza was out on a hunt and Gyutaro was off acting independently as he often did. Douma didn't care for what the demon did as long as it didn't affect what happened back home and didn't end with humans dead. The younger demon was bothered by Daki being so distant and deserved some leniency. It had been centuries since they'd been separated. Douma was willing to let a few... atrocities slide.

Both Gyutaro and Akaza had taken a foul hobby of... eliminating certain humans if they fit a specific match and make. Akaza had occasionally let his hand slip and killed a few monstrous humans they'd met on the road, especially any in power... Gyutaro had lashed out at more than a few people who'd raised a hand at a child. It was beginning to drive Douma insane and he'd made it as firm a dictate as he could; no humans. 

But he killed his monstrous human? Hadn't he? As he looked up at Kotoha he thought of a distant night with a sick man's blood on his fingers. He'd killed monsters in human skin...

So when Akaza came home covered in blood, a flower in his hand from a thankful family spared from a terrible fate... Douma only gave him a gentle look. When Douma found Gyutaro comforting a sobbing child in the woods, her monster of a father dead in a ditch, Douma helped the girl to her Aunt's house and only gently slapped Gyutaro upside the head. He reprimanded them... and then let it pass.

Did that make him a bad person? What made them different from any demon Inosuke ran across? What made them better? Morales? Emotions?

God... Inosuke...

Out there with two swords and a very frail mortal body standing between him and death itself. Gyutaro was right to be killing more demons out of rage... Kotoha was right, they were all worried. Akaza had been on high alert ever since the boy left and Gyutaro had feasted on demons like it was his last meal. They must all envision the same thing... little Inosuke, covered in his own blood with no way out -

Douma clenched his hands together and he heard Kotoha giggle, pulling him out of his ponderings.

"You're still worrying," she reprimanded gently.

"I am..." Douma managed with a weak smile, meeting her gaze as she leaned over him.

"He's going to be alright," Kotoha soothed.

Douma closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax with Kotoha's soothing voice. She messed with his hair; braiding it and then undoing it to form more elaborate braids, experimenting with his long silver strands gently. Douma pondered her words as she assured him, sighing before looking up at her again.

"Do you worry?" he asked.

"All the time," Kotoha agreed with a small chuckle, taking one of his bangs and twirling it in her fingers. Her eyes were distant as her mind was occupied by the many things that caused her some fear. "I worry about you - about... Muzan. I worry about Akaza and whatever haunts him. I worry about Gyutaro and Daki, they've got such anger harbored against the world and that concerns me. Of course, I worry about Inosuke and the dangers he's getting himself into. And I worry about Miku... I worry about what this world means for her."

Douma glanced over at the small girl who was curled up on her tatami mat, wrapped in blankets, and sleeping the day away. She'd been asleep for a few days now and if she didn't wake up soon he would have to carry her to the next safe house.

"But, worry is a comforting sort of thing," Kotoha continued. "Because I worry, I know that I am lucky to have so many people close to me that I care for. I have faith in you and Akaza and Daki and Gyutaro, and of course, in Inosuke. To worry is to suffer twice, and I learned long ago I have no control over it."

"It doesn't that... bother you?" Douma strained.

"No... control is... scary," Kotoha murmured honestly. "I wish I could force Inosuke to stay and be safe but to do that would hurt him in ways I'd never want to. I wish I could give Gyutaro back his childhood. I wish I could take back all the terrible things Daki suffered. I wish I could force Akaza's pain away. I sometimes wish I had control... but control means that you're responsible for so much more... I don't want that. I want this."

With that, she leaned down and kissed Douma's forehead, her hair cascading around his face, and her smile illuminating his entire face. A small smile pulled at his lips and his hand reached up to cup her face lovingly.

"I want this too..." he breathed truthfully, allowing his worries to flow off of him with his next breath.

Kotoha giggled and for a moment, he felt nothing but warmth, comforting and filling flooding through every corrupted cell in his body. She deserved the world... a fresh, living, bright world of daylight and wonder... she chose to be here and somehow here made her happy... somehow he made her happy.

"You know... there's going to be a spring festival in the villages," Douma murmured, his mind suddenly remembering something Gyutaro had complained about; all the lanterns being strung up in the town down the street. It made lurking in the dark hard.

Kotoha's large eyes blinked in wonder above him. Gods, he loves those emerald eyes, bright as a sun-touched field and deep as a forest. "Oh?"

"Perhaps, if you would like, we could participate in those festivities?... I think Miku would appreciate it... and... it could be... fun," it was a messy offer, but an earnest one.

If the girl woke up for the festivities that was... he almost chuckled at the thought. She'd be livid if she slept through such an occasion.

"Is that... would that be alright?" Kotoha asked in hopeful wonder. It had been so long since any of them had dared to go into a town unless it was necessary, especially all together... and a festival was nearly unheard of.

Douma's smile broadened as he stared up at his love's hopeful expression. Kotoha's large eyes glimmered with excitement and he felt familiar satisfaction and excitement curl in his chest. He did like how those emotions curled and purred between his ribs.

"I think that sounds wonderful!" Kotoha exclaimed.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Wonderful barely described it. The small town the group came to in the dark of night glimmered like a star on earth. Lanterns were strung above the streets, giving off a soft glow to the dirt streets that weaved between carts and caravans selling all sorts of baubles and trinkets. Such beauty wasn't something that was lost on Douma: even when he had no emotions, he had recognized beauty. This was something gorgeous, not only the celebration itself but the way his Love and child's eyes lit up as they darted around.

Little Mirakuru demanded that she see every traveling performer and her mother was always eager to agree as she too enjoyed watching festivities. They watched an array of magic tricks, they had an old man tell them their fortunes, they watched as a woman performed glassblowing over a furnace and eagerly learned how to make small paper lanterns with the other children. They seemed to try everything they could.

"Papa!!" Mirakuru grinned as she ran up to Douma. "Look! Look!" 

She proudly showed him a small origami swan that she'd just made, the lopsided uneven paper thing rather sad in her palms.

He crouched down and rubbed her head as he gingerly plucked the swan up by its wings. "It's lovely Miku."

"Do you want it?" Mirakuru asked, giggling as she watched her father look over the paper swan lovingly.

"You would part with it?" he teased with his smile. The girl giggled to see her father's fangs bared in a playful smile.

"Well... I did work pretty hard on it, so you would have to pay me a whole lot if you really wanted it," she could hardly contain herself with this new joke, her smile growing to such a length that Douma had to smile.

"A whole lot..." he pondered thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Hmmm, well, let's see what we can find." With that, he picked up little Miku, who wasn't quite so little anymore, and wandered around the festivities, looking for something the child would deem 'worthy'.

He stopped at a small jewelry stand. Little girls liked jewelry, right? It was shiny and pretty. Inosuke would probably like jewelry, Daki did think the boy would look good with some earrings. He reminded himself to have a gift prepared for the boy whenever they ran into him again.

Mirakuru's eyes were as wide as the full moon above as she gawked at the gorgeous display of craftsmanship.

"Would one of these pay for your swan?" Douma offered.

Mirakuru looked at him with awe and amazement. "Oh Papa, can I... really?"

Douma chuckled because of course his child could. He had plenty of money from the many different threats and raided houses he'd taken part in (it was only at the moment that he realized how bad that would've sounded aloud) but he could easily afford half of the things on the stand and if worse came to worst, he was not above using some gentle threats to get his little girl some jewelry.

So maybe morality was still a far goal for him to achieve...

Mirakuru's eyes sparkled as she peered at every piece before her, her eyes glazing over ruby-encrusted rings and emerald necklaces, finally settling on a small green and blue hairpin.

"That one," she exclaimed pointing at the glimmering piece. Douma studied it and nodded. It was a small blue Lotus Flower with a small sapphire in the center, glimmering in the firelight. It sat on a green leaf that twisted to form the pin of the hairpin. It was decent.

"A good pick," the woman behind the counter smiled, her wrinkled face pulling into a large smile. "A blue lotus stands for wisdom in its perfection, so you may have a brilliant little one on your hands," she directed that last statement towards Douma who smiled as he picked up Miku and paid for the hairpin.

"I'm afraid she's already quite the brilliant little girl,"he praised.

"Papa!! I'm not little!" Mirakuru exclaimed.

"You are compared to me," Douma grinned.

"B-But you're like... SUUPER tall. Even Uncle Akaza says too," she puffed out her cheeks which only made Douma chuckle.

"Well Uncle Akaza is quite little too," he teased, knowing he was likely going to get punched for that later. Somewhere in the world Akaza was probably standing up and planning his murder.

"Here you are," the old woman smiled as she handed Mirakuru the hairpin and accepted the payment. "You'll look lovely in it dear."

"Thank you!" Mirakuru smiled as Douma began to walk away. She then wrapped her arm's around her father's neck and hugged him. "And thank you Papa, I would've just given you the swan if you really wanted it..."

"Oh I know," he laughed as he held up the small origami swan, "But I wanted to get something pretty for you."

At that moment, he bumped into a smaller woman and quickly apologized. It seemed Akaza was right, he really was too tall and a danger to the shorter-being community.

"So sorry..." Douma's words tampered out as the woman looked up at him angrily. She had a rather intimidating scowl etched on her face and her purple eyes danced with annoyance that quickly faded to horror as she looked up at him. She was dressed in a simple black kimono with purple butterfly patterns that matched the pin in her hair. She looked at him and then to Mirakuru.

There was nothing too strange about her, other than the fact that she smelled heavily of wisteria which sent Douma's senses recoiling. That wasn't uncommon. There were plenty of wisteria trees around, the only real downside of springtime festivals.

"Sorry about that, I didn't see you there," Douma dismissed, turning and walking away. He couldn't place his fingers on it, but there was something... odd about that. About her... what was it?

Movement from the rooftops caught his eye and he saw a familiar ribbon twist through the air... Daki: she must have news from Inosuke.

"Let's go find your mother," Douma smiled as he scanned the road for Kotoha, finally following her scent to a food stand where she had bought her and Mirakuru something to eat.

"Mama! Mama, look what I got!" Mirakuru grinned as she wormed out of her father's arms and held up the hairpin.

"Oh my, it's so pretty, just like you," Kotoha smiled.

"No, like you," Mirakuru grinned, her rainbow eyes glimmering with happiness.

"Well, why don't you eat your takoyaki while I fix up your hair? Douma... I think Daki's back in town" Kotoha offered, leading Miku over to a bench where the little girl happily sat down and began to eat the snacks her mother had so diligently bought. 

"I think you're right, I'll be right back," he dismissed himself easily enough while Kotoha set about to fix their daughter's hair. 

"Tell her hi for me Papa!" Miku urged.

"Of course," the demon smiled over his shoulder as he took off at a brisk pace, eager and worried at what tidings Daki brought. Kotoha shook her head knowingly as her Lover slipped away.

The demon quickly found himself in an ally hidden in the shadows of the festivities.

"Daki?" he called quietly.

"Douma," the familiar voice answered as the female demon jumped down from the roof. She landed with her usual grace before her hands went to her hips and her mouth curled into a softer sneer.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Thought I'd tell you what was happening with your brat," Daki answered. "He's in a medic ward recovering at the moment after having a run-in with Rui."

"The lower moon." Douma pondered the thought with a healthy amount of horror.

"Yeah, look: your brat is crazy," Daki deadpanned. "He passed that whole 'final selection', no problem, which is great because that entire mountain was covered in wisteria and I couldn't have helped him if I wanted to. Then, he got stuck in a damn demon house and I almost had to decapitate a drum fuck but two other demon slayers came and your brat made friends... After punching them. Humans are fucking weird. Anyway, he had a run-in with one of Rui's bullshit family members and almost got his throat crushed."

Douma stared at her, his fear turning into a bit of a glare.

"Okay, I would've stopped it before it happened, god don't look at me like that. No, a hashira showed up and saved the brat... and then tied Inosuke up in a tree... That was fucking funny."

"And he's alright?" Douma pressed.

"Yeah... and I'm fine too, thanks for asking," Daki growled, brushing herself off with a sarcastic tone. "Nearly got decapitated by a butterfly bitch but that's fine, I'm fine. Your welcome for tailing you crazy brat by the way. I'll be out with Gyutaro if you need me. Inosuke has like, a while before he can leave because humans take forever to heal, so I can do whatever the fuck I want," Daki grinned fixing up her hair. "I'm starving, you saved me some blood right?!"

"Yes, and... thank you" Douma managed. Of course the kid would go find a lower moon mere months into his life as a demon slayer... Muzan didn't know about him... right? The moon hadn't been sent to find Inosuke, right?

"See you later," Daki dismissed before vanishing to the rooftops and away leaving Douma to his internal crisis.

He rubbed the back of his neck to try and work out the tension he'd just received from that interaction. He slipped out of the alley and returned to find Mirakuru sitting alone on the bench, looking around with an expression of... worry? Her hair was fixed up with the hairpin but her eyes were tumbling with anxiety.

"Miku? Are you okay, where's Mom?" Douma asked as he came over.

"She went to talk to a pretty butterfly lady. She said she'd be right back but... I think something's wrong," Mirakuru looked crestfallen.

That... that didn't sound like Kotoha at all. She would've never just left Miku here by herself.

Everything in the ex-Moon's senses went on high alert. Something was wrong.

"Well, let's see if we can find her," he murmured, picking up Mirakuru and looking around. He tried to find Kotoha's scent but the overwhelming scent of wisteria flooded his nose and he took a step back. It was... powerful now: filling the streets, as if someone had thrown it in the street lamps.

Wisteria... There was only one group that knew a demon's aversion to wisteria and that would surely explain why the scent was suddenly so potent. 

Shit.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kotoha knew who these people were before they revealed their uniforms under their kimonos and put on their swords: Demon slayers. Two sisters by the looks of it, both wearing similar butterfly ornaments in their hair. She knew the look in their eyes so when they demanded that they speak with her, she told Miku to wait for her father, hoping Douma would be able to read the signals to know something was wrong and could get her and himself to safety.

Hopefully, by now, they were already heading out of town. Douma was smart, he'd figure out something was off and Kotoha would slip away later. The demon slayers they'd met before had never cared about humans and this wouldn't be any different. In this situation, she was the safest distraction they had. She then had the duty to distract them as long as possible.

"Miss, this will be hard for you to hear," the younger sister stated, anger in her gaze as they pulled her into an alley. "But that man you're with is a demon."

Kotoha wouldn't lie,  the immediate assumption that she was ignorant made her gut broil. She was not stupid, nor was she blind, but... but, Douma was a special case. There were likely no demons like that man and she knew she couldn't blame these girls for doing what they thought was right, though the sight of their swords still made something in her chest harden.

"You don't seem surprised," the older sister recognized her brow knitting together.

Kotoha sighed as her mind raced. Maybe she could at least distract the siblings long enough to give Douma a headstart.

"I... do know he is a demon," Kotoha managed, "but he's not a bad one."

Ah, brilliant argument. She sighed at her inability to argue.

"There are only evil demons," the younger one tsked and there was such condescension in that tone, Kotoha crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. 

"Shinobu," the older one reprimanded gently with a smile on her face before Kotoha could argue. Then she looked back to Kotoha, some curiosity in her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"He... he doesn't eat innocent people anymore. He... he did once, but he doesn't want to anymore. He... he's different." 

Both sisters looked at her with pity, like she was someone ignorant or naive... like she was a victim of a terrible crime.

"Alright, I know it sounds crazy! I know it doesn't make sense and that you won't believe me, but he is a good man - "

"Kotoha," a familiar voice rang out and her heart dropped.

As much as she loved him, goddammit, she could take a page out of Akaza's book and punch him right now for being so stupid. His usual mask of passive happiness was broken and his eyes were full of concern as he took stock of the situation, recognizing one of the slayers from earlier and noting their weapons.

"Douma..." Kotoha began slowly, noticing how the girls were slowly going for their swords. "Run."

The younger one drew her sword first, meaning to pierce his shoulder with a strange blade but the demon dodged that easily and pushed the girl into the common street. Kotoha tried to grab the eldest but failed to catch the swift one.

People took notice, saw the younger girl, saw the sword in her hand, and began screaming and fleeing.

Douma, meanwhile, looked to the next sister and found her sword racing for his neck. He ducked, pulling Mirakuru closer to his chest before jumping into the air. He clung there for a moment, sinking anchoring of his hands into the wall. He stayed perched above the group, holding his daughter close with his other arm and looking past the elder demon slayer at Kotoha, trying to figure out how to get her without risking Mirakuru.

Douma noted the fleeing crowd, noted Kotoha's firm expression... how she was ready to intervene if necessary. He also noted Miku's tense body, like she too was ready to strike even though she trembled in fear...

The older woman was fast, much faster than other demon slayers he'd met recently. She had leaped up after him, and he was forced to retreat further as her sword grazed his neck.

"DOUMA!" Kotoha cried after seeing the close call. She ran towards him and wondered how she could stop the two.

"RUN!" he pleaded as his mind began working out the situation.

Could this woman be a hashira? She was certainly strong. And her sister? The one that smelled of wisteria? Was she just as strong? Why was the younger one's sword so peculiar?

"Papa," Mirakuru whispered into his chest as she clung to him.

Miku. He had to get Miku away. If the demon slayers discovered what she was they would - 

A searing pain raced up his leg as something punctured his ankle and he pulled away before landing on the earth beside Kotoha. He recognized the pain that spread through his bloodstream temporarily before it was dispersed. He kicked the younger sister away, trying to use as little force as possible but it still sent her skidding away from his family.

The youngest held up her sword triumphantly and suddenly the design of the sword made much sense - she used poison. Her petite body probably wasn't capable of beheading demons so she'd improvised. She was quick. Douma would have to keep an eye on her, but it was the elder one he was concerned about. She was just as fast but her swing could decapitate him in perhaps two swings, should he flounder.

He couldn't fight efficiently while clinging to Miku but he was reluctant to let her go. He felt Kotoha grab his sleeve and he let out a breath.

As long as he could keep these two girls on him, perhaps Kotoha and Miku could get away. And... perhaps... if he made large enough of a scene, Daki would sense he needed some help and the two of them would be able to make a large enough diversion to both get the humans to safety and slip away from the demon slayers

He could feel the demon slayer's eyes boring into him as he glanced at Miku in his arms before returning his gaze to them. They were posing to attack again, searching for his weaknesses, likely.

"Mirakuru, listen to me," Douma whispered in her ear. She was still clinging to his robe, crying as she buried his face in it. "Run with your mother, keep her safe."

"What 'bout you," her muffled voice whined. "I don't want to go! I can fight -"

He stared at the demon slayers who were blocking the way out of the alley, the only way to go was up to escape, unless...

"I'll be right with you," he answered, before gingerly putting her down and shuffling her behind him. Kotoha swept her up quickly and held the child close, despite how big she was getting.

"Can you beat them?" Kotoha asked softly.

The Ex-Upper Two unfurled both of his golden fans and allowed himself to drift back to that familiar persona that he had so long grown accustomed to. He threw Kotoha a glance and watched her nod, her faith in him apparent.

Then, he lunged. He forced an opening between the two girls, chasing them into the street and letting Kotoha slip away with Miku.

The slayers and demon clashed for only a few precious moments before they separated again, the women searching his body for anything they could utilize against him. Douma only stood taller and hoped he was enough to intimidate them... this wouldn't go well for the town or the girls if they drew this out.

"Truly fate is lucky to let me have this run-in with such beautiful slayers, though I am rather saddened that this means the festivities will have to be cut short," Douma fake pouted as he smiled at the slayers.

"You lie to that poor woman, claiming that you're good and moral: Your just another murderer," the younger sister snarled.

"Well that's a little harsh," Douma laughed, hiding his nerves.

The way the eldest eyed him up was... unnerving: "Demon, do you know of the Doro family? Are you responsible for their demise?"

Douma's mind raced. Doro? Who were they? They hadn't killed a family recently... would Akaza? He did sometimes get reckless with his little 'games'. The perverts and abusive assholes that made themselves known to him were known to get pounded but few were actually killed. Besides, Akaza only killed men, that was one of the most predictable things about him - 

"Three of the young men of the family were slain and their corpses dragged away by some 'forest demon'," the older one clarified. "Are you that demon?"

Dammit, that was absolutely Akaza. Douma was going to have his head for this. Did he really kill an entire group of men and not tell him!? As an answer, Douma lunged forward and pushed the two girls back, sparks flying as his fans clashed with their swords.

He heard Kotoha make it out of the town, glimpsed it in his periphery, and let out a breath of relief that turned cold as he tapped into his blood demon art. An attack of ice and frost shot out, making both girls retreat further as the frost clung to their clothes and threatened to pierce them.

Most of the civilians had fled now but Douma could hear the frightened heartbeats of nearby humans in the surrounding houses. Best not to destroy anything... for now. But, there was another problem to consider, Muzan would hear about this and Douma would have enemies on his tail within the next day.

All because two demon slayers happened to find him. Akaza was so fucking dead.

There wasn't much more time to think as a pink blade soared for his face and he was forced to deflect it with his fans. There was no doubt these girls were talented, strong and agile in one's case, while the other was quick and toxic. No good way to deal with them except, of course, the easy answer, which was to kill them. But that would be counterproductive as these were demon slayers who had the same goal as him; kill Muzan.

Besides, there was something more. Something in the back of his mind, feeding him some strange emotion that he hadn't quite grasped yet. Guilt? No, he knew guilt. This... this was strangely personal. He could imagine Inosuke in these girls' shoes, two slayers doing their duties and being unlucky enough to come across a beast like him... 

Worse yet, he could see Mirakuru in these girls' shoes. What would happen if he died to Muzan's hands; would she grow up with hate in her heart, devising ways to kill demons instead of fantasizing about how to catch a fairy? Weren't these girls just twisted reflections of what all humans could become should they lose someone? Is this what his daughter would be if the world wore her down? Inosuke too?

Perhaps he was just thinking too deeply. Damn emotions.

He deflected another blow from the elder and twisted to avoid being sliced by the younger.

Could he flee? Not likely, these girls were inhumanly fast on their feet and had made a living keeping up with demons. Where was Kotoha - ah... there. Douma spied her sprinting down the path, her sandals abandoned as she sprinted to the forest... to safety...

Good. If she reached Akaza, no harm would come to her.

"You are both very talented," he mused as he jumped to one of the rooftops and watched the two follow. That's right, follow the demon... further and further away from the woodline.

The younger girl clenched her sword and fixed her jaw as she stared Douma down with absolute hatred. "I don't want compliments from you."

"Oh, but there's so much to compliment," he smiled falsely, his golden fans glistening with frost.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Shinobu hissed in displeasure. This was a very irksome demon, what with his masquerading as a human and tricking an innocent woman and her daughter that he was harmless. It was a clever trick to throw demon slayers off his trail while he massacred humans. What didn't make sense was why he was so strong... the signs had all pointed to a lower demon who could only handle killing two or three humans at a time but this... this demon was very different... 

Kanae was upon him in moments, her sword too fast for Shinobu to register but the demon had no issue parrying her blows with his own. He was relaxed, much different than when Shinobu had first seen him.

Were his emotions simply a mask and this was his true nature? Cold and calculating with a cruel smile dancing upon his lips. Shinobu's hands shook with rage and she took a breath to compose herself. She balanced herself on the balls of her feet before leaping upon the roof and racing toward the demon, tag-teaming with her sister as they tried to throw the demon off with their dual strategies.

Surely, her poison must be kicking in, she'd stabbed him earlier but he didn't seem to flinch at the poison, perhaps there hadn't been a large enough dose with the first delivery. 

The next blow was substantial enough as she sliced deep into his cheek, piercing under his cheekbones and ripping all the way to his ears. She'd been aiming for his neck but she took whatever opportunity she was given and waited expectantly for his skin to start decaying, and it did... but it grew back just as fast.

The demon blocked Kanae's next blow and put a hand to his face, cradling the healing rot there.

"You should take pride," he said, looking to Shinobu as he blinked away the blood-shot veins in his eyes. "I've not met any poison users this effective."

This effective. Shinobu felt her blood boil as she tried to understand why it hadn't worked. Sure, it hadn't been a large amount of poison but that should've still crippled him momentarily, it was powerful enough to take down a lower moon with two slices but...

What was he?

"Nee-san" Shinobu murmured tentatively as Kanae landed next to her.

"Yes?" Kanae asked, upbeat as ever.

"I think... I think he's an upper moon," Shinobu murmured.

"Oh, I'm almost certain," Kanae nodded and Shinobu could've strangled her sister had they not been in the middle of a battle.

"You know?" Shinobu hissed as the demon looked at them both.

"It would explain his fast regeneration and calm demeanor, also - in the midst of the fight when you pierced him, there were kanji glistening in both of his eyes, briefly, he's concealing them."

Shinobu's heart fell into her gut.

"Yes, you are right," the demon nodded as he shrugged. "I was an upper moon, but that holds little importance now since you've decided to kill me without even granting me a conversation," the demon wore a pleasing smile the whole time which made Shinobu want to punch him.

"Grant you a conversation, after the countless lives you've taken?" she hissed.

"Oh come on, is talking so hard? I'm sure we can talk about this," the demon grinned gently.

"Sure," Kanae murmured, her face set in stoic indifference. "The woman you're with - she claims you're a good demon."

The demon's face seemed to grow tight for a moment, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened.

"And the little girl," Kanae continued. "She has your eyes."

A familiar expression seized the demon's expression and the air grew colder. Rage... the demon's eyes held rage. That was familiar.

"Nee-san," Shinobu warned under her breath as goosebumps raced up her arms, both from the cold and the power radiating off that demon. Her instinct screamed danger.

"They are both humans," the demon spoke slowly, clearly, decisively. "They have nothing to do with this."

Well, that was a... strange tone.

"Is the girl your daughter?" Kanae asked, her voice soothing and gentle, her sword still held at the ready.

The demon tensed most slightly before he laughed, it was a false laugh. "Impossible... how could a demon have a child?"

"She could've been your child before you turned," Shinobu muttered. "Or you're impersonating her father."

"She has nothing to do with this," the demon reiterated coldly. "I'm the demon you're trying to kill, you do not quarrel with humans, unless of course, the righteous demon slayers have suddenly changed moral tactics."

"We do if they're harboring your kind!" Shinobu shot back. Why weren't they attacking? Why were they giving this demon time to heal!?

Now, the demon truly looked angry. Shinobu cried out as the demon lunged too fast for her to react, her sword knocked aside and his palm colliding with her chest. Her breath left her lungs and she was nearly sent flying off the roof if Kanae had not caught her. The elder sister wrapped an arm around Shinobu's shoulder and held her sword out separating them from the demon while Shinobu caught her breath and rebalanced her breathing technique, reclaiming her sword quickly.

"You will not touch them!" the demon snarled. "I do not wish to kill you but I will."

"No," Kanae soothed, slowly lowering her sword. "No, we will not harm them."

Shinobu looked at her in disbelief.

"Nee-san!" Shinobu cried as her sister took a step forward, leaving Shinobu behind.

"I see something strange in your eyes, demon," Kanae murmured. "It's my duty to strike you down... but should you give me information about your master, perhaps we can work out a deal."

"Him?" the demon chuckled dryly. "You'll need decades before you can even think of taking him on. If you cannot handle me - it's pointless to try."

Shinobu felt anger flow through her system like liquid fire. How dare he.

"Does he have any weaknesses?" Kanae questioned.

"The sun," the demon chuckled. "He's afraid of death, afraid of losing control. But I'm afraid if there's something else that can kill him, I don't know of it."

"Where is he now?"

The demon shrugged, "I do not know, I don't want to know. I make it a point to avoid him."

"His information is useless," Shinobu scowled, her sword still at the ready. 

"Demon..." Kanae spoke again. "What is your name?"

The demon blinked, once, twice, then he grinned. 

"How scandalous of you, asking me to give my name to an unassuming woman. I'm afraid my heart's already been taken - "

"You smug arrogant bastard - "Shinobu began.

"Your name," Kanae asked again, sweetly.

"Well... if you must know it's - "

"DOUMA!" 

The sisters suddenly tensed and turned on their heels as a second demon landed behind the first. The pale demon was shorter, and stockier, with a hand that clapped on the taller's shoulder and shook it.

"Akaza?" the first demon asked. "What are you - "

"It's him. Even I could sense your damn demon art from miles away! He's coming, I felt it. We need to run, now," The one named Akaza ordered.

Fear. That danced in both the demon's eyes. The one named Douma looked back at them and smiled; an obvious fake smile that made Shinobu sneer.

"Lovely talking with you ladies... but you definitely can't win now that I have back up, so I accept your surrender. Besides, it would be best for all of us to run now for you see... we'll have some company and I would bet Upper One is on his way and he's not one to be messed with, believe me," Douma smiled sweetly. "Don't worry we'll lead him away from the town, and we can all pretend this never happened."

"Upper... One?" Shinobu breathed in disbelief.

"We cannot just let you leave," Kanae murmured. 

"Let's go!" Akaza ordered as he took Douma's arm. "Leave the damn demon slayers. Gyutaro and Daki are already moving Kotoha and Miku, so let's go!"

"Alright... Akaza, we're having words later," Douma sighed as he threw another look back at the slayers.

"We cannot let you - "Shinobu began as the demons took off. She went to run after them when Kanae placed a hand on her shoulder. "Kanae - what are you doing!?"

"Did you see his eyes, Shinobu," Kanae murmured. "Did you see both of their eyes?"

"What - why!?"

"They're both Upper Moons."

A chill ran up Shinobu's spine. "... What?"

"They are both outcasted upper moons. You can just barely see their kanji glimmering in the moonlight. Two and Three."

Shinobu felt her resolve crumble at the thought. "Ousted Upper Moons..."

"We have to report this... and tell the other hashira."

"We should track them!" Shinoby snapped: "Make sure they don't kill anyone."

"No... no there was something else... something else in their eyes, did you see it?"

"Fear?" Shinobu muttered as she sheathed her sword and tried to make out the demons who had already disappeared into the forest. It seemed the taller colder one was yelling at the striped one... and now they were arguing... and they were gone.

"Love," Kanae corrected gently as she smiled at her younger sister. "Those demons love... unthinkable, isn't it?"

"... You're crazy Nee-san."

"Maybe... but either way we need to tell the others."

"Shinazugawa is going to think you're insane. You could lose your rank for this!"

"Maybe - but something like this can't be taken for granted. A demon that can love... love a human no less. How peculiar." Kanae tapped her chin and seemed to smile to herself. "And the child... how peculiar indeed."

Chapter Text

It was... intriguing.

Kokushibo studied the remnants of the battle, running his fingers over frosty walls and recognizing Douma's blood demon art. The disgraced Upper Moon had fought here... he fought demon slayers based on the residue of wisteria in the air.

Kokushibo didn't pursue the scent of the demon slayers or the residue of Douma. He was not too eager to draw attention to himself when Muzan had so explicitly told him to stay discreet.

He wasn't to engage Douma, just observe his movements. It was more salt in Kokushibo's very open wound.

Muzan didn't trust him to do his duty well enough. Muzan didn't believe Kokushibo would be able to take on both Douma and Akaza (and perhaps Six if the rumors were true). All these years, all this time, and Kokushibo was still underestimated.

Surely Yoriichi was laughing at him for his failures... for his shortcomings...

Kokushibo shook his head and slipped back into the infinity fortress closing the door behind him and locking out the cold demon-touched wisteria air. He was getting distracted.

Focus. On ex-Upper Two. On the demon slayers. On his duty to Kibutsuji.

If Douma was fighting demon slayers, then they weren't working together. That bode well for Muzan and Demonkind. If Yoriichi's students refused to recognize their greatest salvation, that was their greatest loss. Perhaps it would be the demon slayer's hatred of demons that would snatch their hope away from them. The thought quelled some of the anger in Kokushibo's chest.

Demon slayers working with demons? Never. The slayer's ego and beliefs would never allow it, and that would let Kokushibo rest easier.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Damn demons.

Damn demon slayers.

Damn wounds. Damn weaklings. Damn medicine.

"DAMMIT!" Inosuke roared. The girl wrapping his arm jumped away for a moment as he flailed and cursed some more.

"Inosuke! Calm down!" Damn Tanbachiro - or whatever his name was. Always making rules or making Inosuke feel all fluffy and warm. Damn him too!

"I am perfectly calm!" Inosuke growled as he crossed his arms and tried not to wince as the movement pressed on his wrapped broken ribs.

"Yeah. Sure," stupid Zenbitu rolled his eyes and Inosuke could've punched him if he wasn't bedridden. The big-ol' spider demon had done him in well and he could almost hear Akaza's roaring laugh in the back of his head.

"Beaten by a weakling like that! Pathetic!"

"Hashibira, we need to finish wrapping the wounds in your arms," the little girl at his side pleaded as she held up her gauze. She made her eyes as big as she could - like Miku would, and it took all Inosuke had to not groan and whine as he held out his arm and huffed.

They finished wrapping his wounds - tightly, showing no mercy whatsoever. Inosuke growled and ripped his arm away once they were done, glaring at the foot of his cot as the girl left him.

"Don't be so angry, we all survived," Tanbuko... Tinjoru? Tanjourno? Tanjiro, there it was, Tanjiro was lecturing Inosuke and he dramatically rolled his eyes.

"How am I supposed to kill the king of all demons when I'm taken out by a lowly low-life demon like that?" he retorted as he glared Tanjiro down.

The two looked at him with pity and it made Inosuke seethe. No one looked at him with pity - not Akaza, not Gyutaro, not Daki, not even Douma (No, Douma would just look worried, like he was about to have a heart attack). No one pitied him - they knew he was strong! They would know it was his own damn fault he'd gotten hurt. 

These two humans we very different from his family, and that fact only ever reared its head when they looked at him like they were now.

He'd met Tanjiro and Zenotosu - Zentosu? Zenetso? Zenitsu? Whatever, the point was that he'd met the two of them in the middle of a drum demon's house. He'd sensed that feeling - the same power that followed Gyutaro, Akaza, or Douma. That sensation of an apex-predator pacing behind an unlocked door; a demon moon.

He'd raced into that house with an unsatiated hunger, his blades yearning to taste that bastard's flesh. The place had been a maze and it had messed with his damn beast breathing that he'd been honing.

Tanjiro had gotten to the demon first. Inosuke could've killed the brat for that. What sort of decent beast walks into a fight meant for two and steals the kill? Unforgivable. Akaza would've never done that - and Gyutaro would've at least teased him a little bit for being too slow. All Tanjiro did was look sad and shit while he accomplished what Inosuke couldn't.

Screw Tanjiro, because of him Inosuke would never know if he could take on one of the lower moons, or at least that ex-lower moon.

The only reason Tanjiko wasn't dead yet was because he had a demon sister and goddamn it, Inosuke was happy to find out he wasn't the only one. Nezukon (that was her name, right? ah, doesn't matter), Nebukon was a lot more 'demon' than Mirakuru but hell Inosuke couldn't care less and it was nice to know his family wasn't the only weird one. It was pretty cool, you know?

Tanjoku and he got along great after that. Zenotosu thought they were both crazy (he reminded Inosuke of a high-strung Gyutaro sometimes). Of course, neither of them knew Mirakuru was half-demon (he wasn't stupid, okay). Douma had been pretty clear about what was and was not safe to say. Telling a bunch of demon slayers that his Dad was an ex-upper moon who'd fathered a half-and-half kid would be a one-way ticket to a 'fucked-up-station' as Gyutaro would've put it.

Anyway - 

"How are your ribs?" Tanjiro asked.

Inosuke perked up and laughed, despite how the action pushed against his shattered bones. "The demons are going to have to do better than that if they want to take down the Great Lord Inosuke!!"

"You're crazy, you know that right?" Zentosuu deadpanned. "You got like three broken ribs, can hardly speak, and almost bled to death."

Alright... that was kind of true. Though Inosuke would much rather die than admit it - and you know what, knowing Douma, he may as well. If Dad ever figured out he got that fucked up he may kiss his life goodbye. He would never live it down. He'd lived swaddled in blankets for the next five years.

Though, in his defense, Inosuke did not believe it was solely his fault.

He'd been traveling with Tanjiro and their blond friend for a while until the stupid spider mountain got in their way. Tanjiro had apparently fought a lower moon while Inosuke was stuck with the monster-beetle-spider-father-bullshit that broke his ribs, nearly crushed his throat, and got him strung up by that stupid water hashira. He had absolutely no control over it.

And apparently, he'd yelled too loud and made himself hoarse. Embarrassing, hopefully Daki never found out.

So, all-in-all, Inosuke's life as a demon slayer was going sucky. He was useless as ever and he'd almost died - just like Douma said. That very thought made Inosuke's blood broil. He'd hardly killed any demons of decent stature which meant there were just as many demons after Mom and Miku and Dad as before! He was useless!!

He threw his pillow across the room in frustration and seethed with anger.

"H-hey, calm down. What's your problem?" Zenistue demanded, quaking a bit as Inosuke's boar mask turned to glare at him.

"Stronger," Inosuke growled. "I need to get stronger."

Across the room, Tanjibo sighed and smiled. His eyes were warm and his smile was soft as he nodded in agreement. He was always smiling - it was weird!

"We will. We'll get it," the dark red-eyed boy assured him. "We survived; that's the first step."

"We're useless like this," Inosuke growled through a rasp. "Waited upon by kids and nurses, having medicine shoved down our throats like we're helpless - "

"AND IT TASTES TERRIBLE!" Zenbotu whined.

"Exactly Zenbotu!"

"It's Zenitsu."

"Whatever - We're helpless and useless here while the demons out there only grow stronger and create other demons! If we ever want to go give em' hell we gotta get strong, quick!"

His announcement was met with a silence that filled the air and hung on an unsettled note. Tanjiko looked determined as ever and that let Inosuke breathe a bit easier. Everyone here shared his drive (mostly... who knew what the fuck Zenbotu was doing here) and everyone dreamed of decapitating that Master-fucker-demon-king.

"We'll work hard. We'll get stronger, just you wait," Tan-ji-ro smiled.

"Then we'll put that fucking demon king in the ground!" Inosuke cheered, coughing once as his throat acted up.

"Inosuke..." it was Zen... Zen-it-su, it was Zenitsu who spoke. "You never did answer my question back then."

"Back when?" Inosuke demanded.

"What makes you want to kill Kibutsuji so bad?" Zenitsu asked.

"Who's that?"

Zenitsu deadpanned. "You're... an idiot."

"Who are they? Are they strong?" Inosuke demanded with a grin.

"Muzan Kibutsuji," Tanjiro murmured, clenching his fists together from where he sat. "He's responsible for the creation of demons."

Inosuke felt his chest swell at the name. Was that him? The one that had carved X's into his Dad's eyes. The one that made Akaza tense up like a hissing cat. The one that made Gyutaro tremble and Daki hiss. The one that could almost bring Douma, his fucking Dad, who only ever seemed unbeatable, to his knees?

"Is he their Master?" Inosuke asked; his father's name for the bastard curling on his tongue. 'Master', what a disgusting phrase. It sat festering on Inosuke's tongue. Shithead had a better ring to it.

"Yes," Tanjiro nodded.

"Muzu Kibutusoji," Inosuke muttered.

Zenitsu's face fell. "Nope, not even close."

"Munza Kibut... Kibuto... what was it again?" Inosuke grumbled.

"Kibutsuji," Tanjiro supplied. "Muzan Kibutsuji."

"Ki-but-su-ji." There it was. The name; the bastard had a name now. "Yeah... that's him. I'm going to kill him."

Tanjiro chuckled. "I hope so."

"I'll kill him. Then I can go home to Mom and Miku. I can shove it in Akaza's fucking face. I will kill him," Inosuke swore up and down, again and again. He'd put his sword through that fucker's neck.

They sat in silence for a long time after that. Inosuke let himself lean back and smile. He'd always wondered who was chasing them. Mom knew but she didn't want Miku learning it... Something about a curse killing her (because of fucking course there would be some curse), the demon king did seem like a coward using curses and other weird stuff to do his dirty work. He wasn't like Inosuke who would deal with problems head-on.

"Hey... Inosuke. If you don't mind me asking, why'd you become a demon slayer?" Zenitsu asked after a moment. 

"What?" Inosuke demanded.

"Well - " Zenitsu sputtered. "You talk about your Mom a lot and your little sister - and don't forget your Father or your Uncles or that one Aunt of yours - "

"What's that got to do with anything?" Inosuke puffed out his chest and smiled. Of course, he talked about them. Everyone had some sort of family - wasn't his fault he had the best one. Sure Daki was annoying as hell and Gyutaro could be a dick but they meant well, and Akaza had his moments too - but it was still the best family. Also... had he called Daki an aunt? Daki was not an aunt. He'd have to clear that up because... okay he didn't exactly have a title for Daki, she was just Daki, but Aunt sounded so wrong -

"Well... why would you become a demon slayer... why would you set your sights on Muzan if you could be happy? If you could be home?" Zenitsu asked nervously. 

"Home?" Inosuke echoed.

Tanjiro was looking at him earnestly, curiously perhaps. 

"Why the hell would I want to go home?" Inosuke demanded.

Tanjiro's face fell.

"They're... they're your family! You're lucky to have that!" Zenitsu cried.

"My family lives in fear of demons," Inosuke growled, pointing viciously at Zenitsu. "Lucky my ass. I became a demon slayer to become the strongest. The more demons I fight out here mean the fewer demons they have to be afraid of."

Both Zenitsu and Tanjiro had an expression Inosuke wasn't familiar with and he seethed against it.

"I'm not going back home until this Muzan bastard is dead and my Dad can stop worrying. I won't stop until every evil demon is dead - that's a promise."

It was Tanjiro who nodded slowly, perhaps in understanding. Inosuke didn't know the details but Tanjiro had mentioned, briefly, that his family had been eaten - maybe he would get it. Maybe he wouldn't.

"I think..." Tanjiro murmured - " I think that if I had known about demons before my family was killed, I would've joined the corps too... just so they wouldn't have to be so afraid."

Zenitsu looked between the two of them and sighed. "Seriously? Neither of you would settle down? Live a little! Enjoy family?!"

"Not until they're safe!" both Inosuke and Tanjiro announced at once. The perfect synchronization made all three of them laugh.

"You're both crazy," Zenitsu sighed at last.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Inosuke may very well have been crazy, but he also was determined.

As soon as he could move, he trained. As soon as he could scream, he yelled. He trained harder than Akaza had ever trained him. He and Tanjiro were forces to be reckoned with in the morning. They'd jump out of bed, see who could do the most push-ups, run a good few miles, try to drag Zenitsu into rehabilitation training, and eventually tried to figure out Total Concentration Breathing; constant.

That was a whole other fiasco but Inosuke be damned if he couldn't figure it out. He would figure it out, he had to!

Breathe. Hold. Release. Hold. 

Like the pulse of a beast's breath, the thunder of boar's hooves, the growl of a mountain lion. His breath was the woods he'd grown up in, the meadows he'd played in, the moon he'd lived under. He lived, breathed, and slept to kill demons. It was his only goal.

There were other good things about the place too. The butterfly girls were all either strong or helpful and that was great. Miku probably would love it here, especially with all the flowers and butterflies. Hell, she'd probably like all the swords too! One day maybe Inosuke will go back and teach her how to be a demon slayer! She'd kick some serious ass.

Anyway, the butterfly girls;

The big one was Ka-something and she was strong as hell. Soft-spoken though and always really gentle with how she talked. She had a pink sword that Daki would've loved and a style that would've made Gyutaro envious as hell. 

Inosuke preferred the younger butterfly swordsman though. Shibonu or something like that. She snapped orders and scowled all the time but that was something Inosuke could get. She was strong, no doubt and he wondered if his Dad knew half the stuff she did about demon poisons. She was all purple with a weird sword and a closet full of wisteria stuff that made his nose curl. He really should snag some wisteria flowers so he could shove them into Gyutaro's face and watch him gag. It would be funny as hell.

Both Ka-something and the purple girl looked at him weird though like they recognized him at first. He knew the younger one had apparently saved Zenitsu on the mountain and the elder one was the hashira who found him strung up in a tree. She hadn't looked at him weirdly then...

But then the two went off on some mission and came back right when Inosuke was able to start taking a few steps out of bed. After that, they both just studied him and it was a little weird but... maybe it was just their medicinal shit-personality.

He didn't fucking know. Anyway:

There was the one fucking-fast girl that they trained with. Another Ka-something but this one was the short one and damn was she too fucking fast. Inosuke promised himself one day he'd be faster. He'd be better, but for now, he'd keep losing to her over and over and over again.

The tea-throwing exercise, the keep away, he'd best her in all of them! Tanjiro too! He'd already decimated Zenitsue, Kano-something was the real challenge and once Inosuke beat her it was on to the purple butterfly warrior next and then the big ol' pink lady. He'd be the strongest. Just you wait!

He told himself that again and again as they set off for their next mission; The Mugen Train. He'd beat this demon and he'd become the best.

Just you wait...

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kanae watched the new slayers train in the garden and she couldn't help but stare at the wildest of the bunch; Inosuke Hashibira.

The resemblance was uncanny. He looked just like the woman that ex-Upper Moon had protected. Inosuke was human, without a doubt - unlike the other child, the Moon had defended. Suma had spent too long forcing the boy to relax so he would heal.

Inosuke...

Was it a coincidence? Pure and simple? But the eyes and the hair. The resemblance was too uncanny.

She watched the boy as he went down for another push-up, focusing on his breathing. Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho all cheered the boys along. Kanao was there too, meditating by the look of it. Kanae hoped that the girl would soon flip a coin and decide to interact with the children... they were all her age... it might do her well - 

"Kanae!" a bright voice bellowed from the doorway and Kanae smiled as she turned to see Rengoku Kyojuro, all smiles and teeth as he usually was.

"Kyo!" she greeted warmly, stepping away from the window and leaving those thoughts mulling the garden. "Off so soon? The boys don't leave until tomorrow."

"I'm heading out now, to scout ahead and see if I can prevent them from seeing combat at all! I wanted to bid farewell and ask how those siblings were doing!" he grinned.

Kanae felt her chest warm at the man's concern. So many of her fellow hashira were impartial or hateful of Nezuko's existence... it was reassuring that Kyojuro cared enough to check. Together they began walking through the halls.

"They're doing well. Nezuko has been nothing but sweet when she's awake and her brother has healed up well. He'll be accompanying you on your mission so you can see them in action," she explained.

"So Shinobu told me, I look forward to it!" the man grinned. He sombered only for a moment as he seemed to ponder. "You say the demon has acted kindly towards everyone?"

"Yes, Nezuko has been very sweet," Kanae grinned. "I think she may even get Shinobu to smile one of these days."

To that, Kyojuro laughed. "If she does that, she can melt even Sanemi's heart."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Kanae managed. "He's too stubborn for that."

Kyojuro only grinned. "He was quite worked up about this whole scenario."

"Yes..." It was Kanae's turn to feel somber. Sanemi was... difficult, good-natured but full of hate. She tried to talk with him after the meeting but he'd been so worked up he'd run off... he hadn't done that to her in years.

Apparently, he was keeping himself busy with missions now and ignored all the crows she sent. She couldn't tell if he was angry with her... or how she defended Nezuko. She hadn't seen him this upset since the day she'd accidentally called him Nemi...

"Kanae... are you alright?" Kyojuro pulled her out of those solemn thoughts.

"Yes, yes," she assured him. "Just worried for Sanemi."

"Understandable, he's quite prone to harm don't you think?" Kyojuro chuckled. "Have no fear, I'm sure he'll turn up eventually with a broken arm or self-inflicted blood loss."

"Oh, I swear he's going to make me steal his sword one day," Kanae sighed. "He's too reckless."

"It is our duty to be so," Kyojuro smiled. They'd made a small lap around the house, as was their tradition, and now they were in front of the door again, listening to the boy's train in the garden. "Speaking of duty, I must be off now, take care Kanae."

"Kyo - " she grabbed his arm and stared at him forcefully. "I want to tell you something before you go; it's about one of the boys you'll be traveling with and what happened to Shinobu and me on our last mission."

Kyojuro looked at her in concern. "What?"

"Hashibira, the boar-mask child... he bears a striking resemblance to a human Shinobu and I ran into. She was harbored and protected by that ex-Upper Moon Master spoke of."

Kyojuro clearly had no idea what to do with that information.

"What does that mean?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Kanae answered honestly. "I just wanted to warn you in case it should come up."

To that, Kyojuro smiled warmly and pat her head which made her glare at him playfully. Of all the hashira, Kyojuro struck her as the most brotherly. They'd bonded over being the eldest child, but Kyojuro always seemed to pass that energy along wherever he went... 

"Thank you for the warning, Kanae," he grinned. "I'll be careful, whatever this means."

"Please do," she smiled. "And do so without pulling a Sanemi."

Kyojuro laughed again as he made his way towards the door. "Don't be too hard on him, he does survive those injuries after all!"

"Barely," Kanae grinned. "Take care, Kyo!"

"And you Kanae!" he threw the words over his shoulder as he left for his next mission. Kanae stared after him, her thoughts wandering from him to the green-eyed boy in her garden, to the rainbow-eyes Upper Moon and his child... back to Sanemi.

She would send another crow to Sanemi...

"Nee-san?" Kanae startled out of her thoughts as she found Shinobu walking towards her, an arm full of linens.

"Shinobu," she smiled.

"You zoned off," the girl scowled as she came to a stop beside Kanae. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing! You worry too much," Kanae teased. "I was just seeing Kyojuro off!"

Shinobu obviously didn't believe her, narrowing her eyes but relenting.

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"Yes, I was just passing along some information. No worries."

Shinobu hummed in understanding before a familiar frown took over her lips.

"Alright, then go help Aoi with the laundry, it's piled up like a mountain," she demanded. "Those boys don't know how to keep their clothes clean -"

Kanae giggled as Shinobu walked away, still grumbling.

"Remember Shinobu! You look so much nicer when you smile~" she teased after her little sister before heading towards where she knew Aoi would be.

As she left she heard Shinobu scoff and that made her chuckle, her earlier thoughts forgotten in the bright light of the Butterfly Estate.

Chapter Text

"Inosuke!"

Inosuke jolted awake. Awake!? What the - oh, he must've fallen asleep. He rubbed his face and groaned as he opened his eyes...

And found himself very much not on a train. That was... wrong. He was on a train, right? That fiery guy Rengo-something had just killed two demons. It had been badass and cool! They'd finished the mission and then he'd eaten and then... where the hell had it all gone!?

"What the hell?" he muttered, looking around. He was in a field, a bright, full moon overhead with more stars in the sky than he'd ever seen. Fireflies danced and he narrowed his eyes as he looked around.

What the fuck was going on?

"Inosuke! Come on!!"

Inosuke jumped to his feet and looked over his shoulder, up the grassy hill to the top. Miku was there, grinning toothily as she waved at him.

"Come on!" she cried. "Or we're gonna be late to the festival!"

Inosuke recoiled as he tried to grapple with that idea. A festival? What festival? When had he gotten here, how had he gotten here... Where was he!? Miku took off down the hill and Inosuke was torn about following her. Something felt wrong...

Where was he supposed to be? Again, he recoiled as he tried to think. He wasn't supposed to be here... but where was he supposed to be? The fuck?

"Zoning out on us, huh? You should've gotten more sleep," a hand clapped on his shoulder and Inosuke jumped, reaching for his swords that weren't there.

It was just Douma. His father smiled down at him, concern in his eyes.

"Inosuke, are you alright?" the demon asked and Inosuke struggled to answer as he quickly looked around for his swords.

"Where are my swords? I just had them... I swear." He checked the grass, and the hillside, he looked for anything that glimmered in the moon.

"Your swords? Why would you need swords?" Douma asked softly, gently stilling by gently squeezing his shoulder. The tall demon leaned down and his smile helped Inosuke's chest relax as his breaths suddenly stopped being so controlled.

No... no, he was supposed to concentrate on his breathing. Constant concentration breathing! Why? Because, that's why. Because... because... shit. Shit, he couldn't remember.

"I'm a demon slayer... I, I need swords to... I need them to..." Inosuke fumbled as his head clouded in confusion. Something was wrong here but he really couldn't figure it out.

"Inosuke," Douma laughed. "It's over. Muzan's gone. You killed him, remember?"

Inosuke recoiled and gawked.

"I what?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No way," Inosuke grinned. Douma laughed softly, warmly. He was so relaxed, not a ounce of tension between his shoulders.

"You truly didn't sleep well. I told you the field would be uncomfortable, even if the stars are beautiful."

"Are you two coming or not?" They both looked up the kill where Kotoha stood impatiently in a new kimono decorated with green-stitched koi fish. Inosuke broke into a run and collided with the woman, wrapping his arms around her as he laughed. She laughed and hugged him back.

"I killed him? I killed Muzan!?" Inosuke laughed in wonder as his mother held him.

"Of course. Don't you remember? You're my little warrior after all, of course, you killed him. I knew you would," Kotoha laughed. "Now I'm fairly certain I asked you to change into something a bit more appropriate, though I suppose a boar skin does make quite the impression."

They pulled apart and Inosuke laughed in disbelief. Douma was there, his smile still bright and joyful as he looked at them all. Inosuke's parents took his hands and lead him, over the hill and to the village below. The town was so bright and he smelled food - was that shrimp? Oh god, it smelled like shrimp tempura! YES! Inosuke followed the two eagerly and saw Miku in the distant streets, on Daki's shoulders. Gyutaro and Akaza were arguing about something while Daki and Miku laughed at them. Well, Miku was laughing, Daki looked annoyed.

He'd missed this.

Why had he missed this? Had he left? He stood there at the top of the hill, looking out over the night scene and wondering why this felt so incredibly right.

Kotoha and Douma were walking down the hill, toward the rest of the group. His mother looked over her shoulder and smiled up at Inosuke, Douma followed her lead.

"Are you coming?" Kotoha called up.

Inosuke grinned and shook his head before bounding down the hill after them, a grin on his face.

And then the sound of screeching metal and splintering wood jolted him awake.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The demon/hashira run-in was long behind them and they'd managed to slip under Kokushibo's radar. The anxiety of that run-in had faded into a running gag as everyone and their mother (literally, Kotoha was included) made fun of Akaza for it.

Yes, he'd killed three men. Yes, they'd deserved it, and no, he wasn't apologizing. Yes. He would be more careful next time. Sorry Douma. Not really, fuck off.

But Douma wasn't really the problem. The problem was the situation had ended peacefully: Akaza had been forced into house arrest for a few months, and now Akaza was bored.

Extremely bored. It wasn't that he figured this fugitive life-style was going to be exciting, but somehow, among all the constant threats and the weekly occurrence of running for their lives, Akaza had grown bored. Maybe it was the fact that Inosuke was gone... the kid used to monopolize his life with training and now their lessons sat bare. Miku had asked him to start teaching the basics and they went through forms a few times a week, but she was also honing her blood art with Daki and Douma. She also wasn't as obsessed as Inosuke was and that was probably healthier.

Still... Akaza had grown bored. He'd found a chance to slip away and scoured the nearby farmland for any higher-level demon he could pummel. He would take almost anything. It had been weeks since he'd been able to punch something without holding back. And he'd found just the thing.

He raced along the earth, his feet kicking up dust as he raced the wind. He broke into an open field and crossed it within seconds. The scent was stronger now; Muzan's blood was close.

There were fewer challenges to face, and nearly no foes to best. He lived for that, he thrived for that. He couldn't hunt anymore and while that left his stomach curling in discomfort it was a welcome pang, but unfortunately, that meant there were no more humans he could test, no more battle challenges to issue. There was no challenge, no way for him to become stronger.

He burst through a forest and felt anticipation prickle along his spine. Closer. He was getting closer. His blood pumped in his head as a laugh nearly built up in his throat. It wasn't quite becoming of the "reformed demon" notion Douma kept trying to sell himself, but Akaza had never pretended to be anything different.

He'd betrayed Muzan years ago and there was no going back. He'd wanted to do it. Douma of all people made him want to do it. So maybe Douma was different, and Akaza never would be. Ex-Upper Three supposed it was the demon's fighting spirit. One of the reasons Akaza had despised Douma so desperately back when they were Muzan's dogs was the lack thereof. Douma never wanted to fight, he only wanted to gouge himself on flesh. He was gluttonous, proud, lazy, and his fighting spirit had been nonexistent. Sure; he was strong but all that meant to the demon was that he could devour more. When that had changed... when Douma's aura turned a bright burning icy blue, it was easier to... get him. Easier to see him as less of a rival and more of an opportunity; an opportunity to get stronger. An opportunity to break out of the shackles he'd been in. To... not change, but shift.

Dare he say it - he'd even grown to enjoy Douma's company. The way their fighting spirits fed off one another, the way their banter could spark something in Akaza's chest. Kotoha too, she had a bright spirit, something rare in a human so tame. Tame was the wrong word... she was gentle. Gentle, but strong. She reminded Akaza of... well, she reminded him of days in a life he had nearly forgotten.

And it was Douma who had helped him remember Hakuji... the man he used to be. That alone shifted Akaza into something more palatable: brightened that frozen fire in his chest.

Yes... he thought about it as he burst out of the trees and laughed at the sight below. Yes, he'd grown to love this new life, this life with people who... cared. A life that seemed to feel more... fulfilling. A life that not only promised him strength but a purpose; a purpose to take down the most powerful demon in the world. A life that maybe, just maybe, could start atoning for all the ways he had failed and could make Koyuki forgive him. Maybe he could make Keizo proud. Maybe he could make his father proud. Maybe he'd murder the bastard who made him forget their names! What could be more exhilarating!?

He was the demon Akaza, and it had been so long since he'd had a good fight. He wanted to fight, he wanted to win. He wanted to find a fighting spirit strong enough to withstand him and he wanted to go toe-to-toe. He'd been itching for a fight, like the ones he was used to with a demon slayer at his neck or the ones with blood between his teeth. And now... now there was an opportunity on his doorstep: he could smell it. The stench of Muzan's blood was thick in the air; one of his favored demons was near. A demon who'd just recently tasted the ichor of their sick god and was running on a high. Gods, Akaza hoped the demon was an upper moon.

He'd been sensing them for a few days now, always by these train tracks - but he hadn't had the opportunity for a run-in like this. He wanted to fight, his blood demon art yearned to activate. He yearned to use it. Just for a moment, he wanted that rush.

So he ran. He ran out of the forest and came to the train tracks where he'd sniffed out his next fight. There was a demon approaching and by gods, he couldn't wait to rip it apart. He ran along those tracks until the night was split by a warm yellow light in the distance and he cackled.

His prey. His fight! His victory!

Let it be Upper Four or Five... were they the new Three and Two now? Ha! They thought they could take his place!? Even a lower moon would suffice his lust for death. Anything, anything that would put up a fight!

The train bellowed out a screaming whistle as the conductor spied the pale demon sprinting for them. The whistle was drowned out as Akaza's feet launched him into the air, a cackle on his lips.

"HELLO DEMON!" he laughed, his voice shattering as the roof of the first train car did beneath his feet. "COME AND FACE ME; SHOW ME YOUR STRENGTH!"

This was usually the part where humans screamed and ran for their lived. Instead, they all slept. They all stayed slumbering and that made Akaza grin: even better, no audience. Akaza only had his senses trained on that scent. Muzan's stench was everywhere but where was the demon who held it!?

He felt the change in the air as the wood beneath his feet turned to flesh. The air grew thick with the scent of blood and Akaza cackled.

"That's how you hide!?" Akaza challenged as his demon art immediately lent him the weak points in the train (or rather the body of the demon itself). It definitely wasn't a blood art he was familiar with which cut out all of the opponents Akaza had been hoping for.

Someone was running on the train roof - demon slayers perhaps based on their well-placed footwork. Akaza paid them no mind until the door to the car he had broken into slid open.

"Ah-ha, you've certainly made an entrance!" a voice broke through his concentration and Akaza turned to face a bright-eyed man with fiery hair. "Was it you who tried to put me to sleep? Rather bold of you to emerge now."

It took a moment to spy the sword at the man's side and Akaza managed a half-sneer as he dismissed the slayer. The slayer did not dismiss him, the flame-decorated human waltzed into the room without a shred of fear. Perhaps his stance would've been intimidating to a lesser life form, but Akaza was no lesser.

"No... you have a different feel to you," the slayer murmured as he drew his sword. Akaza blinked and resisted the urge to show the kanji hidden under his eyes. Petty intimidation was below him and he wasn't here for human blood.

"Calm yourself, slayer, I'm not here for you," Akaza growled as he shifted into his position and felt his blood curdle. He set his stance and activated his eager blood art.

Oh, the fighting spirit of the slayer was immense. Focused. Forged... beautiful. Akaza looked over at the man and couldn't help but feel a wave of anticipation and a yearning to fight him. Just test how far that big a flame could take a human. But no... no he was looking for something else.

In the sliver of a second he had, he pushed away from the visual of the slayer's fighting spirit and let his senses spread. Muzan's dog was somewhere around here... or perhaps all around here... Whoever it was lingered in every blind spot but yet nowhere tangible. Akaza sneered as he realized this wouldn't be a fight... this demon wasn't a fighter. He was a coward.

Cowards had no need for spines.

"I've found you!" Akaza growled as he looked beneath his feet.

So the demon's neck was in the engine. How juvenile. Now... how to get the demon to revert back to his old form so Akaza could feast?

He burst out of the car, to where the engine joined with the cars, a smile on his face as he took action. Akaza's foot slammed down and with the screeching of metal and wood, the connection between the engine and the train cars snapped, just like the sound of a demon's neck.

BEHIND his Compass Needle warned and Akaza ducked out of the way of that slayer's fiery orange sword. The slayer's heel planted in the crashing train and twisted, his sword flying again for Akaza's neck. To have such agility when the floor was demon flesh itself! To have such balance!!

What a fighter! What speed, what skill; Akaza had to at least know his strength. He threw up an arm to see how deep that sword would cut and watched in wonder as the sword sliced through his flesh like butter.

That hadn't happened in a long, long while.

The slayer didn't give him a moment and was once again trying to decapitate him. Akaza laughed as he caught the sword between his palms.

"You're strong," he applauded as their faces stood mere inches apart. The strength and emotion in those burning human eyes was nothing short of alluring. Such anger - such drive!

He can't kill this man, he can't - he can't. They were demon slayers, they had the same purpose... oh, but Douma wouldn't know, would he? It wouldn't hurt just this once, right? No, no. Inosuke was one of these damn humans and damn it all Akaza liked that kid. It wouldn't do well to go killing one of the kid's fellow flesh bags. Even in the pursuit of a glorious fight... because oh this was a foe who would give him a fight!

Hakuji rebelled from Akaza's soul and he felt himself smile. No... no, there would be no murder, only respect for this foe.

"You'll kill no one here tonight!" the slayer vowed.

"Relax. I didn't come here for human flesh," Akaza cackled as his Needle once again informed him of an enemy. No, no - enemy was too much credit for this coward; his prey. He threw the demon slayer's sword away and lunged past him. The slayer would've defended himself but Akaza wasn't aiming for him. The train demon had appeared pulling himself out of the shaking train's floor as the engine of the train grew further and further away from its cars. His second body was failing him and it would be in the best interest of the demon to revert to his old form and escape...

Not that escape was an option for this demon!

Akaza laughed as he collided with the pitiful weakling, his hands wrapped around the demon's neck. So pliable in his hands; was this really a demon moon? The two of them flew out of the train, tumbling to the ground, the little pest screeching the whole way as the train rushed by them, losing momentum.

"It's you! Traitor! Our great Master knows of you -" The demon pinned down by Akaza couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut as Akaza chuckled darkly. He kept one hand on that demon's throat and with the other pried wide the demon's eyelids to check what sort of pest he was dealing with.

Lower One, huh?

"Pathetic, couldn't even rise above the lower ranks with three of us out of commission?" Akaza taunted.

" I am our master's chosen vessel, I shall ascend the ranks soon enough," the demon vowed, eyes going distant at the thought. 

Akaza almost gagged at the smell of Muzan's blood. The demon was clearly still riding the high. Newly 'blessed', then. Seems Muzan was just granting his blood to any demon loyal enough - ha! So he was desperate then.

"Pathetic," Akaza muttered and he easily plunged a hand into the demon's rib cage and ripped him apart. He'd string this little weakling out in a field and wait until he was certain the sun had done its job.

"Our master will have your head," Enmu croaked despite the hole in his chest. Akaza sneered, reaching out and grabbing the demon's face in a vice-like grip

"He can try. If all he has at his disposal are weaklings like you, I don't have much to fear. He's no master. He's simply strong, and thanks to you, I'll be taking some of that strength."

"But I know now... I know the truth..." the demon grinned and Akaza's eyes narrowed. Were they hiding something? Was the demon bluffing? Akaza couldn't think of anything off the top of his head that would be important...

"I know about the boy - the slayer boy," Enmu grinned and Akaza felt something in his veins twitch. He couldn't mean... No, no way - Inosuke was still in recovery, right? 

"What are you talking about?" Akaza growled, tightening his grip on the demon's jaw.

"The boy - The ex-Upper Two's human flesh pet. He's become a slayer, you know... I had the honor of putting him to sleep. I saw his dream, his happy little dream. Such a treasonous little dream."

With that Akaza clenched Enmu's jaw and ripped its lower part off, tossing it to the side. The regeneration of the demon was quickly undoing all of Akaza's work but that was the least of his problems. He grabbed the demon's head and slammed it against the ground again, again, and a few more times for good measure.

Not Inosuke.

"What did you do!?" Akaza hissed, rage flowing through his very essence as images from a life he never remembered living came to mind. Bloodied corpses of people he hated to remember. The idea of Inosuke in that position... the idea of what may have happened... "If you killed him I swear you'll wish your master's blood burned you alive!"

"Oh... I don't think he'll live much longer in the life he's chosen, don't you think?" Enmu smiled softly after his jaw re-formed. "So tragic that he couldn't live his dream. Truly tragic that he couldn't die when he was most happy. So tragic that he must live in such a hard world with only traitors and sad little humans on his side. Our Master will make quick work of them, no?"

The demon was trying to rile him up but all Akaza could do was breathe easier. His rage diminished as soon as Enmu's words washed over him. Then, a smile came to his face. Of course, Inosuke wouldn't lose to a weakling like this... not his Inosuke. The kid was too stubborn, too strong. Akaza was sure of it. He felt himself relax as he raised his fist and punched the lowly demon again, the demon's bones shattering under the blow and blood spurting all over Akaza's skin, sticking out like a sore thumb on his white-tainted skin.

He licked his fingers and was pleased to find the taste of Muzan's power still thrumming there.

"You never could've made it in the Upper Ranks," Akaza sneered as he stood, placing a foot on Enmu to keep him down, but this weakling's regeneration was slowing, a few more rounds of this and he would struggle to keep up. "Your demon art puts others to sleep, right? That's your play; to attack when your prey is weak: when they're helpless. I can see it, every attack you're thinking of making, every weak spot in your abilities because I am strong and you are meant to be culled with the weak. You can't fight fellow demons because you can't put us to sleep. Your Master was right to send you to fight humans, it's all you're good for. A coward through and through. You'll kill no one else here tonight. That I can promise you."

Enmu tried to say something but Akaza shifted and crushed the attack dog's face. He wouldn't look forward to eating this demon, but Muzan's blood ran through him and Akaza could use some power. He grabbed a fist full of flesh and resisted gagging.

It tasted putrid, but it didn't make his conscience scream at him... and that was enough.

"So you came here to cannibalize your own kind?" a familiar voice scorned. Akaza let out an annoyed huff as he stood up straighter and looked at the slayer who'd finally caught up. The train had crashed quite a ways back... it seemed the hashira hadn't been in the biggest rush to follow. The man stood there, sword at the ready, his fighting spirit a flame, and Akaza fought to be stronger than a mere moth. He licked the blood off his fingers and recognized some form of strength returning to him, tingling on his tongue with that rotten scarlet ichor.

"I told you, I didn't come here for you or your kind," Akaza muttered as he gestured down at the carnage at his feet that was trying to sit up. "This one was all I wanted."

"You are still a demon - I sense the blood you've shed, the lives you've taken. It's my job to destroy you," the demon slayer readied himself and Akaza licked his bloodied lips and tried to hide a smile.

He shouldn't... he couldn't.

It would be wrong. But the slayer seemed too strong. He'd be such an opponent, so much more fulfilling than the pathetic lowlife at his feet. Akaza clenched his jaw and bounced on the balls of his feet as he tried to control his bloodlust.

It would be wrong.

But it would be fun.

The slayer lunged and Akaza's still heart would've soared at the speed at which the slayer cut through his defenses. Akaza laughed and on instinct summoned his blood demon art. He had to know... he had to see how well this human could withstand him. His punches and blows reverberated with power as their shockwaves carried enough power to turn a human into a mess of flesh. But the slayer's sword was there, every time, every single time Akaza's fist was blocked and his spirit soared.

What an enemy, what a foe!

He hardly registered Enmu rising to his feet but his blood demon art knew his every blind spot and told him of all his enemies. He had turned on his feet and grabbed the demon right as the human flew past them both and suddenly Enmu's head was rolling on the ground, the body in Akaza's grip turning to ash.

The demon had a moment to screech and claw at Akaza's forearms, then nothing more. Akaza laughed darkly and threw the disintegrating body away as he turned to the slayer.

"That was going to be my meal," Akaza scolded, but hell if he really cared.

"You'll simply starve then," the slayer stated darkly and Akaza could take it no longer. That spirit, that glare, Akaza had to know.

"What's your name," Akaza asked, a smile on his face and energy pumping through his veins. It was all worth it, every disappointment in this hunt was worth it to face this human. A human that had withstood him far better than Lower One had.

"Why do you ask?" the slayer retorted, but there was a smile on his face too. Did he enjoy this as much as Akaza did? Were they cut from the same cloth? Men with too much fighting spirit, too much power on their hands - is this what became of them when they met on the battlefield? How glorius.

"I know power and strength when I see it. I respect all my opponents who are truly strong... I have to know. Let me know you so that I may remember you."

They clashed again. The slayer slashed apart one of his hands but finally, finally, Akaza drew blood and he felt himself relish that victory. This fight! This fight!! It was all he wanted!!

The slayer jumped away, not even flinching at the bloody gash on his side from Akaza's attack. It wasn't fatal, far from it. Akaza had only scratched the slayer but even knowing that a blow from Akaza was lethal, the slayer's spirit didn't flicker.

"I am Kyojuro Rengoku... the Flame Hashira, and you will fall here demon." Rengoku. Kyuojuro Rengoku! Akaza laughed and committed that name to memory as he committed the gorgeous flame before him. Powerful - confident.

"Kyojuro, you're the best fight I've had in years. To think... Lower One thought he could hold a candle to you! Funny, in all my years I've never met a Flame. But... I do not want to kill you - you still have work to do. You and I have the same purpose and as much as I wish to test our steel against one another... You cannot beat me."

Akaza readied himself for another attack and tried to grapple with the part of him that wanted. The part of him that wanted, so, so desperately, to see if he could kill this human. The rest of him - the part of him that heard his old sensei scolding him - knew he had to resist the temptation.

"Do not underestimate us humans!" Kyojuro laughed. The Flame Hashira darted forward and they clashed again. Sword against fists. Akaza laughed as he lost a leg, falling to his hands and flipping as to buy his regeneration some time. He landed on his new leg and lunged back into the clash.

"Face it, Kyojuro! Even if you fight to the death, you can't win. Those impressive slashes will heal completely. But what about you? Even if we were on equal levels, a human cannot beat a demon!"

"You're too proud in your stance. I have a duty as the Flame Hashira; I will not fall here!"

They both jumped away and hesitated, each picking the other apart as they circled. They both hungered for the fight, Akaza could tell. He could tell. They faced each other, both of their fighting spirits burning. Akaza's mind warned him not to be so hasty - don't fall into such a pitfall. He was different, changed... but the fight. Oh, the fight they have - the fight they could have.

Kyojuro seemed to understand him and readied himself again. They both got into a position and tensed. What a dual - what an opponent! What a -

"AKAZA, YOU FUCK!"

Wait a second -

He flinched as a serrated sword slammed into the side of his skull, the blunt side bouncing off of him with a clang. Kyojuro looked horrified but Akaza only blinked a few times as he looked to the side and there, standing proud, was the brat himself.

"Ha- Hashibira, no!" Kyojuro warned, desperately trying to remember the boar-faced child's name that he'd only known for a day.

But it was way too late.

Akaza had him pinned in seconds, the boy squirming under him.

"Did you just throw your fucking sword at me!?" Akaza cried as he held the boy down by his throat.

"So what if I did!?" Inosuke argued back, and then suddenly he was twisting out of Akaza's hold, sweeping his feet out from under him and pinning him down.

Since fucking when!?

"You willingly disarmed yourself!!" Akaza scolded as the boy put on a smug smirk. "Had I been any other demon, you'd be dead!"

"Yeah, you and Dad keep saying that; if you were any other demon I'd be smart!! And who's got who pinned now!? If I was any other slayer you'd be dead!" Inosouke snarked back and Akaza had thrown the kid off in seconds. He plucked the boy up by his feet and hung him upside down which was difficult... because Inosuke was...

No...

No.

"AM I FUCKING TALLER THAN YOU!??" Inosuke cackled as Akaza struggled to hold the boy high enough to look him in the eye.

"No." Akaza fumed. There was no way the boy had grown that much in a few months!

"I AM! I AM AREN'T I! HA! TAKE THAT YOU FUCK! SHORTY -"

Akaza dropped the kid and relished the pained sound that emerged from the boy's mouth as he landed on his face.

"Take that you pest," Akaza scorned as Inosuke picked himself up and rubbed his head furiously.

"You fuck," Inosuke growled. "That hurt!"

"Good! Maybe it knocked some sense into you! What are you doing here anyway!? Daki said you were in the hospital, healing! She says you got bested by a lower moon!" Akaza lectured. "And now I learn you're here getting messed up by another lower moon!?"

"I knew someone was spying on me! That spying snitch!" Inosuke crossed his arms and pouted. "I got better weeks ago, I just had to train up my damn body again - why the hell would Dad send Daki to stalk me? A lot of help she was!" Inosuke was about to continue his rant and it was then that Akaza noticed the innate lack of a boar mask.

"And where the hell is your mask!?"

"I lost it when you fucking wrecked the train!"

"Oh, am I supposed to apologize for you losing what belongs to you!? You know you're supposed to hide your face! There was a Lower Moon here, you idiot! You're lucky I got here! He may have reported you back to his master! You little shit, I told you to be careful!"

"Well, I would've spent more time looking for it if you hadn't been out here trying to fucking murder Renokugi!" Inosuke pointed to the hashira who was just... standing there. Akaza glanced at the slayer and sighed as he turned back to Inosuke, rubbing his head.

"His name is Rengoku, you idiot."

"Shut the fuck up, I know his name!" Inosuke defended.

Akaza leveled his glare: "You don't."

"I do!"

"Don't."

"Do."

"What is the meaning of this?" Kyojuro's voice interrupted their argument and they both looked to the hashira who had straightened out of a combat position but still held his sword at the ready.

"Oh shit, did you do that to him!" Inosuke scolded as he gestured to Kyojuro's side. "You fucking attacked a hashira, what's wrong with you!?"

"I was attacked first, what would you want me to do, roll over like a pathetic weak dog and die!?" Akaza challenged. He then turned to Kyojuro and swallowed whatever was building up in his throat; annoyance with Inosuke most likely.

The hashira watched them intently.

"I know the brat, Kyojuro." Akaza explained simply.

"He's a good demon, I swear," Inosuke intervened.

"I would not be so sure," Kyojuro warned. "That's an Upper Moon by your side. One of Muzan's finest."

Akaza sneered at the name and tried to ignore the shiver down his spine. "I'm no longer an Upper Moon. I left."

"He's not working for Kibut...Kibuti... BAH he's not working for the Muzan guy anymore. He's a traitor. He works with my Dad, I've known him for years now, he isn't evil and if he is I'll fucking kill him!" Big words from a little Inosuke. More concerning was the lack of fear he had speaking Muzan's name.

"You can try you brat," Akaza teased and the kid had the audacity to glare at him. "And watch throwing that name around so carelessly!"

"Inosuke!" a new voice called.

"Inosuke, what the hell is that!" Another new voice shrieked.

More slayers. Akaza sighed as he looked the way Inosuke had come. Standing there were two more younger slayers, about Inosuke's age... one with a fighting spirit to match Kyojuro's. Where did Inosuke find these people!?

"EY! Tanboku and Zantisu, this is my Uncle Akaza!" Inosuke smiled proudly as he pointed to the said demon in question.

The slayer's expressions spoke for themselves and Akaza sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

And he didn't even get a proper meal.

Chapter Text

Kyojuro Rengoku was many things. A demon slayer, a mentor, a friend, a brother, a lover of good food; he was not an all-knowing being. 

He couldn't tell if it was better to kill the Upper Moon (or ex-Upper Moon as he - it - insisted to be called) or if it was better to wait and get more information. There were more demons apparently, perhaps stronger, perhaps weaker. Either way they were not of the same breed that the Kamado boy's sister was. This demon was a murderer, of that Kyojuro was certain.

And yet they followed him. They followed like lambs, or perhaps they were better labeled as foxes, lured into a trap because of their own damn curiosity; smart enough to know what danger looked like, but too damn curious to avoid it. 

They'd been walking for the better part of an hour and in all that time Kyojuro had been given a chance to observe.

The boar-boy (Inosuke Hashibira, if he remembered what Kanae had told him...) had sworn that this monster wouldn't hurt them, and if Kyojuro hadn't seen that demon tear apart one of his own kind without giving a second glance to an innocent bystander then Kyojuro wouldn't have believed it. But the pale, striped demon had struck out at its own kind - better yet it had chosen to attack another demon over Kyojuro. Sure, demons cannibalized each other but it wasn't by choice. It was always either a last-ditch effort at satiating their hunger or a feast to gain power.

This was obviously neither. 

Then... there was a conversation between the two demons. The pale demon leading the way was a traitor... a traitor to Muzan? Was there such a thing, could that even exist - in the form of an Upper Moon?

No. No, Kyojuro was certain it was a trap. He was certain...

"I'm telling you, Tanboku here has a demon sister," boar-boy (Hashibira, right?) swore as he gestured to Kamado. The boy held the straps on his shoulders and eyed the blue-striped demon warily. Good to know that the boy wasn't falling for this either.

But what was the play here... and why such a long haul? Was Hashibira working with the demons or did he truly believe this one was peaceful? Was the demon lying through his, no its, teeth? Were they being led to a nest with even more dangers!? Was it better to take him down now - 

"No way. The Demon Corps wouldn't let a fucking demon live peacefully among humans," the demon denied as he - it - slapped a tree branch away, cracking it off of its trunk and sending it flying. It then looked back, smirking at Kyojuro of all people. "Isn't that right, Kyojuro?"

And then there was the fact that he (it) kept using Kyojuro's name. When was the last time a demon had asked for his name? Probably back when he was a mere boy fighting a demon way out of his league. This pale-skinned, pink-haired, yellow-eyed abomination seeped with pride, arrogance... and strength. Kyojuro didn't just suspect this demon had the bite to his bark, he'd felt it - he knew. This demon was powerful, far more powerful than anything Kyojuro had ever faced...

Maybe that was why he hadn't struck yet.

Did that make him a coward? Was he leading these poor children to their deaths because he feared he couldn't win? Or was it the curiosity in Kanae's words - the idea that there were strong demons that had rebelled against Muzan... 

The demon scoffed and turned to face him. Kyojuro froze and gripped the hilt of his sword. Was it now? Did the demon show his true colors now?

"You're probably still waiting for me to start tearing you apart," the demon laughed, crossing his arms. "Right? While it's tempting, if I wanted a fight, Kyojuro I would've simply continued what we started down by the tracks. I appreciate that strength of yours though... that confidence in your beliefs. I almost wish we'd met years ago when I was a different - "

"Shut up," Hashibira interrupted, without fear. Without hesitation. "You're not sparring him. He'd kick your ass."

The demon almost looked offended. "He would not. I'd slaughter him."

Hashibira scoffed and took off walking. The demon stared after the boy with his mouth agape, his arms spreading in disbelief.

"I would. What has a few months with the demon corps made you think demon slayers are untouchable!?" the demon challenged as he took off after the boy.

"No. Most of em' are fucking whimps, but Rengigiku will fuck you up," Hashibira stated simply. 

"He would not. No slander to you Kyojuro - " The demon almost looked apologetic as he glanced back at the slayer - "but I'm still a demon. Humans can't withstand demons."

"He'd cut your head off and you'd be dead," Hashibira snickered. The boy raised his sword and smoothly cut off the tips of one of the young evergreens that were sprouting up around them. As the tip of the tree fell down Hashibira smirked at the demon. "Just like that."

"Oh shit, you actually worship the hashira," the demon scorned.

"They're badass. And yeah, Rangokugo will fuck you up," Hashibira snickered.

"It's Kyojuro Rengoku and it's a miracle you're still alive." With that final announcement, the demon pushed past the child and began to trek up a slope. 

"I know his damn name," Hashibira grumbled as he followed the demon up the steep slope. "Kyoburo Rengoki."

"You're getting closer if it's any consolation" Blonde-boy trembled, coming up beside his fellow young slayer. Kyojuro ascended faster than them, trying to keep himself between the demon and the boys now.

As they walked... Kyojuro watched. He watched the demon lead them through the mountains and he listened to the whispers behind him.

"You don't think mentioning your Uncle Akaza was a demon would've been good for us to know!?" blonde-boy (Agat-something... Was that was the crows called him? Agatsuma?) was quite terrible at whispering and Kyojuro just had to pray the demon wouldn't get fed up with him too quickly. Though... the other half of Kyojuro just wanted this damn thing to stop toying with them and show its true colors.

"You guys wouldn't have given him a chance," Hashibira defended. "He's a good guy and it's not his fault he's a demon. I'm not stupid. If I went around telling everyone my family's full of fucking demons they'd have more problems. I joined this whole corps so I could cull out my family's demonic problems, not give em' some human ones!"

Agatsuma hushed his friend desperately. "He'll hear you!"

"I already do," the demon muttered from ahead. Immediately Agatsuma shut his mouth but Hashibira and Kamado did not.

"Inosuke..." Kamado murmured... darkly perhaps. "Whatever that demon's told you... I think he's lied."

"The hell are you talking about?" Hashibira snapped.

"That demon... he's eaten thousands. I can smell it. He reeks of death and blood. His scent is strong... almost as strong as Muzans... he's not just any demon Inosuke - "

"Damn right." The demon ahead of them stopped his climb and looked back at them. Kyojuro kept his hand on his sword and prepared himself. It would be difficult with the demon holding the high ground, but not undoable.

The moon was behind the demon, his silhouette looking black to those lower down the slope except for his bright yellow eyes; they glowed. They glowed so brightly - and then they shifted.

His pupils shifted, darting out of their black forms and morphing into kanji symbols. Standing out like a firefly in the darkness his kanji burst forth.

Upper Moon Three.

Kyojuro felt his chest still. He'd suspected something of the sort... but it was still a bit of a shock.

That wasn't all, though. Arcing through both of the demon's eyes were mangled bloody X's. Each crossed over the pupil perfectly, scarring the eyes and bringing out something odd in the demon's eyes; emotion.

"I did eat thousands," the demon explained. "When I served under my old master I was urged too, praised even. I only ate men though... those who were strong... those who would put up a good fight. That was my prey."

Kyojuro slowly began to pull out his sword; he knew a pre-feast speech when he heard it.

"I am a monster, boy. You've got a sharp nose," the demon tapped his own pale nose as he smirked down at Kamado. "But I'm not the monster you need to worry about anymore."

And, against all of Kyojuro's predictions, the demon turned and reached the top of the hill, blinking once and hiding both his kanji and the X's through his eyes. Slowly and oh so cautiously Kyojuro sheathed his blade again and followed.

What was the game here? Why continue this charade? It made no sense - 

"My Dad fought back against that bastard Muza -" Hashibira began to explain.

"Do not say his name" the pale demon pointed down from the peak of the slope.

"Oh fuck off, I'm not cursed!" the boy shot back, pulling his boar mask over his head. They'd had to scour the train for that and the demon hadn't let him leave without it. It had sat atop the boy's head till now.

"Don't tempt him then. Maybe you're not cursed but that doesn't mean you just throw his name around, alright!? Unless you're asking to die!?" the demon ordered as Kyojuro reached the top of the hill. The three boys weren't far behind him and the demon stared at the boar-headed one for a few moments longer.

"Alright... I won't say his name. You're a coward though," Hashibira sneered.

"Call me a coward again and I'll punch you so hard you'll still be reeling in the afterlife," the demon threatened, raising a fist.

Hashibira didn't even flinch. 

"Fine. You tell the damn story then," the boy muttered, crossing his arms. 

"I'm not in the story-telling mood. That'll be Douma's job if he lets me live long enough to explain why I'm bringing a fucking hashira to his doorstep," the demon turned and trudged down the other side of the hill, towards a distant flickering light that Kyojuro could only assume was their destination.

"Oh, don't let Dad tell it - that'll take all night! They rebelled against Muzan, alright," Hashibira explained quickly.

"What did I say about that fucking name!?" the demon snapped as he turned around sharply.

"Shut up! Anyway, the damn demon king wanted to kill my sister and my Dad said no. Easy as that. When the damn demon king came to try and kill my Dad, Akaza saved him. Now Muzan wants them both dead and they're running from him."

"I don't run," the demon muttered, but he continued down the path and yet again Kyojuro only had the choice to follow.

The next step suddenly brought him another choice. He drew his sword as he sensed the presence of yet another suffocating demon. 

So it was an ambush.

"Arm yourselves!" Kyojuro tried to warn the boys.

"Calm down - it's just Gyutaro and Daki!" Hashibira laughed as he looked at the trees. "AIN'T THAT RIGHT YOU FUCKS!? COME OVER HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASSES!"

The forest fell deadly silent. Kyojuro's skin prickled as he tried to locate the other demons and figure out why the hell the pale one hadn't lunged yet. Kamado was armed, and so was Agatsuma.

"I can hardly smell the other demon... the scent's been so strong, it's almost impossible to differentiate them all. I think they're strong though," Kamado warned.

"Ha, not as strong as me," Hashibira laughed, throwing down his swords and clearly possessing some death wish.

"It's so loud... Tanjiro... it's just so loud," Agatsuma whimpered.

"What?" ah, Kamado, always the kind one worried about his friend's fearful state.

"The sound of demons... it's like a cacophony here... I've never heard it so loud... even when we were on that damn scary spider mountain!"

A flash, a move, something lunged and tackled Hashibira and Kyojuro only managed to slash the lower half of it. The two tumbled down the hill and Kyojuro raced after them.

An arm caught him and paused his chase; the pale demon. Kyojuro ripped free and a second later, the Ex-Upper Three had lost his arms... again.

"Calm yourself, Kyojuro. Inosuke's not in danger - look!" the pale demon urged as his hands grew back at a rate that could've made Kyojuro's skin tingle.

He was tempted not to. It was a trick as old as time itself... but then Inosuke laughed and something in Kyojuro had him lower his sword and look behind him where... sure enough... the boy was wrestling with a demon, almost like it was a playmate. They had landed at the bottom of the hill, a few meters away from a cottage tucked into this valley, a warm light emanating from its windows.

"Oh, I missed your fucking ugly face!" Inosuke laughed as his face (under his mask) was pushed to the ground, the demon's hand on the back of his head.

"I didn't miss you, you brat! The hell you doing here!?" the demon atop him was a twisted sort of monstrosity but his smile... that was strange. Strangely real. Dark twisted locks fell over his green-tinted skin, but there was no malic in his twisted smile even as he pinned the boy to the ground with a knee in his back.

"I'm - beating you!" Hashibira, in an incredible feat of flexibility suddenly folded backward, his legs wrapping around the demon's neck, using his own weight against the demon the boy flipped the demon forward and then scrambled on top of him.

"HAHA!" the boy laughed as he put his hands in the air. "I AM THE GREAT LORD INSOUKE, AND I - HEY!"

The boy's mask was snatched off his head as yet another demon appeared behind him. This one was composed, with beauty in her form and cold in her eyes. Still... there was something about the way she smiled as she taunted Hashibira with his boar mask.

"Still oblivious as ever you little shit," the new demon snickered as Hashibira snatched the mask back from her, right before the demon under him threw him off. "Bet ch'ya didn't even know I was following you!" she teased.

"You fucking snitch!" Hashibira cried. "I know you told Dad about the damn spider mountain!"

"Of course I did!" she defended as the boy was locked into a headlock by the other demon.

"LET ME GO GYUTARO! I'VE GOT TO PUMMEL DAKI!" Hashibira demanded.

"Say you give up and I'll let go," the green-tinted demon taunted.

"HELL NO - "

There were too many demons now... Kyojuro cursed himself for not taking action sooner. This had just gone from dangerous to deadly.

The door of the cottage slid open and Kyojuro bit back all of his words as real, actual fear rose in his throat. The demon in the doorway was tall but it was the way the light refracted off his colorful eyes that made Kyojuro's throat close.

Ghostly kanji sat hidden in the reflected light from behind the demon... the X's were also apparent, though well hidden.

Upper Moon Two.

All Kyojuro thought about was the strange run-in that the flower hashira had a few months ago. All he did was hope that his strength was enough; no one would die here... not on his watch.

And perhaps... perhaps a small part of him hoped that maybe, maybe it was possible. Maybe this was possible. Maybe what Kanae had said held truth - maybe there was something shifting in the demon world.

The demon in the doorway stepped out, a smile painting his lips as his rainbowed eyes darted to Hashibira.

"Inosuke... you came home."

Chapter Text

Everything smelled wrong.

They'd walked into a house full of dangers and, as Akaza beckoned, had knelt before a table as bowls of food were placed in front of them with the strange bloodied ice-smelling demon apologizing for making too little food for their unexpected guests. The Demon's voice had made Zenitsu pale as it had explained something about not expecting so many guests so late. The demon's stance had made Rengoku tense. The demon's words had gone over Tanjiro's head as the smell nearly overpowered him from where he knelt, his heart hammering in his chest. That demon was immensely powerful and clearly unsettled by their arrival. 

The warm air of the house smelled thick with the residue of demons, but even that demonic scent had a firm and terrible metallic hint to it. Not a fresh scent of blood, but a deep one, like something had been left to soak in crimson for years. It clung to every demon in the house...

Except for the youngest.

The little girl sat across from Tanjiro, slurping up her very normal noodles as noisily as Inosuke before she finished first and slammed the bowl down. She smelled like Nezuko in a way, an off-putting scent of something inhuman, but it was very faint with the smell of a beating heart, hardly noticeable over the stench of Tanjiro's surroundings. 

Perhaps she wasn't a demon at all...

"DONE!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air as Inosuke gasped and slammed his bowl down next, also empty.

"No fair! I had more than you!" Inosuke cried indignantly.

"Nu-uh, I won fair and square!" she smiled sweetly, crossing her arms in smug satisfaction.

"Mom! Tell Miku I had more than her!" Inosuke cried as he looked at the head of the table.

"I can't do that," the table's head laughed lightly. "Besides, you two know your manners."

The woman who sat there, next to Tanjiro, was graceful in every sense of the word. There was a level of control in how she held herself that was very out of place with the predatorial demons around her. She didn't look fearful or intimidated... she looked comfortable and smelled loving. She looked down both sides of the table, smiling as she gazed past Inosuke to the demons, her smile fading into something small and polite as she regarded the demon slayers. The demons who knelt on the tatami mat for the meal chose the opposing side of the demon slayers, save for Inosuke of course. It almost felt like a line being drawn in the sand and no one was sure if they should cross it.

There was Akaza, across from Rengoku, and the two of just stared at each other. Akaza was offered no meal and Rengoku hadn't touched his which was very out of character for the usually famished flame-hashira. Tanjiro had given the meal a good sniff and deduced that if it was poison... it was well-masked.

"What are you two; animals? Use your damn chopsticks!" The ribbon demon demanded as she walked past Inosuke and his sister, gently slapping both of them in the back of the head with a ribbon. She smelled sickly sweet, like perfume mixed with rotten corpses, reeking of danger. There was power in those ribbons that probably could've sent Inosuke's head flying off his shoulders but Inosuke only scoffed and his sister merely giggled at the gentle taps.

Zenitsu shared a side-ways look with Tanjiro that said he too had expected Inosuke to go flying.

"Gyutaro doesn't eat with chopsticks," the little girl teased as the demoness made her way to the windowsill to perch with the sickle demon who smelled like his sister, if not even more rotten.

"Stop fucking snitching!" The said sickle-demon demanded, looking over his shoulder with a horrified expression that would've been comical had Tanjiro's sanity not been climbing up his throat at the sickening smell of power and death.

"Language," came the gentle scold of the final demon at the opposing end of the table. He smelled the most peculiar, like the fresh rain on a cold day... with a very clear tone of blood in its puddles. His voice was ice, his body was tense and he kept looking at them with something akin to wariness.

That was the other, confounding thing. With all this stench of death and blood, Tanjiro could smell no malice. That icy demon, ex-Upper Two so the shadows in his eyes hinted, smelled only of mistrust... a scent that Rengoku-san, Zenistu, and Tanjiro himself all shared in spades. The others though? The siblings perched in the window seemed impartial to the entire thing, Akaza's aggressive bloodlust that Tanjiro had first scented was completely gone, now replaced with a strange sort of curiosity as he studied the flame pillar's eyes. The human woman smelled warm, also mistrusting, but soothed and welcoming. 

They all sat in still silence for too long, even Inosuke noticed. He perked up after filling his bowl with seconds and looked around the table with an exasperated expression.

"Are we just gonna stare at each other all day or are we gonna - " Inosuke began.

"Patience, Inosuke," the woman murmured softly. "This is a lot, give them time."

"We don't need time," Rengoku stated firmly, a smile somehow still on his face as he glanced at Inosuke. "But I would like answers, Hashibira, if I am to refrain from killing these demons."

Well, that was one way to change the scents in the room. The icy demon's scent spiked with aggression though his expression hardly shifted. His rainbow eyes flickering over to the hashira on his left, a dangerous smile on his face. The two siblings in the window glanced back uncertainly, preparing to flee or fight... Tanjiro couldn't tell, but he put a hand on his sword regardless.

"No need for that Kyojuro. None of us mean any of you harm," Akaza spoke firmly, throwing a glare at the siblings in the window who visibly forced themselves to relax. "If we did, you'd be dead."

"That would have to be seen." Rengoku's words were firm and somehow empowering. For a moment, Tanjiro almost believed they'd be able to take on every foe in this room. He believed it for only a moment though.

"We do not wish you harm," The icy demon echoed again, killing any hope.

"I have no reason to believe you," Rengoku laughed. "But I entertain this because you've done nothing to contradict it."

"Believe me then, if it's demons you mistrust." The woman spoke again, smiling as she did so. "My name is Kotoha Hashibira. You've met my son, Inosuke."

Inosuke grinned proudly before drinking his noodles straight from the bowl. Akaza shoved him, lightly though.

"Chopsticks you brat," the demon ordered under his breath.

"Don't tell me what to do," Inosuke hissed back, sticking out his tongue.

It was a foreign experience; watching man-eating demons give etiquette orders.

"On your left is my Love, Douma," Kotoha gestured to the demon on the opposing end of the table who gave them all a warm smile but a cold stare.

"Pleased to meet you all. Again, I'm very sorry for this... I didn't know Akaza planned on inviting company over - " Douma began with a bite in his voice.

"It was your Inosuke's idea, for the record," Akaza defended, putting his hands up. "I told him it was a bad idea."

"Then next time don't go pick a fight with a fucking hashira and I won't have to play peace-keeper!" Inosuke snapped, his mouth full of noodles.

"Finish chewing!" half the house scolded making Inosuke grumble back into his bowl. The girl, Miku, tried to hide her giggle in her hands.

It was terrifyingly confusing. On the one hand, nearly every being in this house could kill him and Tanjiro could smell it. On the other... there were scents and emotions baked into the demons over the smell of death and blood. Fondness, adoration, protectiveness; things that Tanjiro could remember his own home smelling like...

"I'm sure you're all very confused and, trust me, this isn't exactly something I hoped for. But you're all here now, for better or for worse, and I suppose that means some explanations are in order," Douma continued. "I am - was - Upper Moon Two. I served that man for many years and... yes, I can see it clearly in your faces, I committed atrocious actions on the innocent. We all did."

"Well, not all of them were innocent per-say," the sickle-demon began, balancing one of his scythes on his pointer finger.

"We committed sins that we cannot atone for," Douma stated firmly, not even glancing at the interjected, and the sickle demon shrugged as he tossed said sickle in the air before catching it.

"You can atone for them, quite easily," Rengoku stated. "Avenging the deaths of those you murdered would certainly negate your evils."

There was no doubt every pure-blooded demon in the room tensed at the words.

"And then what? We die and he gets what he wants?" Akaza challenged, raising his chin. "No... No, I'm not going to die until the demon king is dead and no more suffer from his cowardice. That is our atonement, Kyojuro. That's what I told you; we have the same goal."

"But why?" Tanjiro found himself speaking before he could control himself. "What would make you turn away from Muz-"

"Ah - ah - Tanboku, you can't say that in this house," Inosuke hissed quickly.

"You said the name all the way here!" Zenitsu cried.

"Yeah, but that's different. Miku's here," Inosuke explained frantically, gesturing to the girl at his side.

"I'm old enough to not use his name you know," Miku stated firmly, throwing Douma a firm gaze with the eyes that matched his. "I'd like to know it, I promise I won't say it. Pinky promise!"

Douma truly looked exhausted as he propped an elbow on the table and rested his face in his hand. Tanjiro didn't have to smell it to know what being overwhelmed smelled like and the tallest demon was definitely there.

"Miku..." the demon breathed.

"Please, Papa," she pleaded earnestly, offering her pinky.

"Muzan Kibutsuji." It was Kotoha who spoke it at last and everyone in the house seemed to feel a chill at the name. Miku took in the name with an ounce of skepticism before nodding solemnly.

"Thank you, Mama."

"You are old enough to know," Kotoha nodded. "You're old enough to know all of it." She then looked cooly at the demon slayers.

"When I was a young woman, I was married off to a cruel man. From that came Inosuke and escaping that marriage brought me Douma." The affection she threw across the table with her eyes was unmistakable and the waves of adoration the demon reciprocated nearly blind-sighted Tanjiro.

This wasn't a falsehood or a lie; those emotions were terrifyingly true and strong... and reciprocated.

"At the time, I didn't know he was a demon. But he took me in and he protected Inosuke and me when my husband came after me," Kotoha continued, she was looking straight at Rengoku now. "We fell in love, strangely enough, and each of us changed. I grew happier, and Douma grew more human."

"I grew remorseful..." Douma interrupted softly. "I became aware of myself and the monster I was, the monster I am. I vowed to change. I revealed myself and she accepted me... and I changed... too little too late perhaps, but I changed." 

"His change caught Muzan's attention and the demon lord tried to kill us... tried to punish him for becoming a better person," Kotoha continued. "Akaza was sent to kill us... but he spared us."

Akaza held up a hand as if to reject the praise. "I did the right thing... It was just ironic that I did it for this loser." He glared at his old superior who chuckled at the faux aggression.

"So our merry little band grew," Douma grinned, looking Zenitsu, Tanjiro, and Rengoku up and down. "You can expect he was furious that two Upper Moons rebelled, especially Upper Two and Three, so he sent everyone he could after us and began culling his ranks of weakness and insubordination - "

"He grew fucking paranoid," the sickle-demon muttered.

"Language. Gyutaro," Douma chided again.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Gyutaro groaned. "But it's true!"

"He was so unfair! He tried to kill us for no reason!" the ribbon demon cried, whirling around to look at them all and rant like a child. "He told Gyutaro to kill me! My Onii-chan would never, but Muzy still tried to make him - so we escaped!"

"Funny thing is, we weren't moral like the rest of these crazy-ass ex-moons," Gyutaro muttered as he gestured to Akaza and Douma. "We would've continued to stay his attack dogs. We would've continued killing humans. But he pushed us away, he tried to make me kill Daki... and that's unforgivable."

"And that's how we got the twins," Akaza grumbled.

"We're not twins!" Both of the siblings snapped back.

"I'm like five years older than Daki!" Gyutaro cried.

"He's such an old man!" Daki whined.

"The point is, for better or for worse, for morality's sake or our own selfishness... we've sworn off human flesh and serving our master," Douma explained. "We feast on fellow demons, animals... and though it may sound disgusting, we receive shipments from a fellow escaped demon. They're blood shipments from donors, humanely received... and they satisfy us."

Tanjiro's heart almost jumped into his chest.

"Blood shipments?" Tanjiro breathed.

"From a very sweet doctor and her assistant," Kotoha nodded.

"You can't mean from Lady Tamayo - " he began.

It was too perfect to be a coincidence.

"Why yes, actually," Kotoha smiled. "You know her?"

Everyone was looking at him in wonder now, it was making his skin crawl.

"Well... yes, I ran into her when I ran into Kibutsuki. She helped save Nezuko and I - " Tanjiro began.

"OH MY GOD - Tonkujo, you have to show them your sister!" Inosuke announced, flying to his feet.

"Huh?" Tanjiro felt his mind go terrifyingly blank.

"Dad! They have demons allowed in the corps! Tanjiro's sister was turned into a demon, but she hasn't eaten anyone - she's weird but they've let her stay! So they'll definitely let Miku stay!" Inosuke addressed Douma but pointed to Tanjiro who suddenly wanted to get both he and Nezuko away quickly.

What would these demons make of her? What would they do to her?

Douma's eyes glinted with curiosity as he regarded Tanjiro and the box on his back. Tanjiro grabbed the straps over his shoulders and held them tighter while he glimpsed Zenitsu's hand slowly and shakily shifted for his sword.

"That would explain the weird demon in the box," Akaza nodded to himself.

"Inosuke," Kotoha reprimanded firmly. "Enough. You can't expect them to feel safe and you definitely shouldn't force the poor boy to trust us... or demand that he shows off anything. Sit back down, and introduce us to your friends."

Inosuke obeyed, without any grumbling this time, and sighed. "Blondy's name is Zenkuku - "

"It's Zenitsu! Zenitsu! If we die here and I have to hear you call me something else one more time -" Zenitsu was definitely hysterical and it took Tanjiro gently nudging him to force the boy to stop himself. The lightning breather was trembling so badly Tanjiro could hear his sword shaking against its sheath.

"I'm Kamado Tanjiro," he tried to be polite and sincere, or at the least keep his voice steady. Kotoha's eyes brightened and she nodded at the names.

"It's nice to meet you, Zenitsu and Tanjiro; thank you for looking after my son," she smiled.

"Onii-chan doesn't need looking after, he's awesome!" Miku beamed. "But thanks for being his friends - he's bad at making friends."

"WHAT? Am not!" Inosuke cried, appalled and betrayed.

"He beat up all his boar friends once... they didn't hang out with him for a whole week," the younger sister continued to tattle.

"I did not beat up all of them, and if they didn't want to get smacked they shouldn't have challenged me!"

"You still hurt their feelings. "

"They came back!"

"Because they were good friends."

"So I make good friends!"

"No - you just happen to find good friends."

"Why are we counting pigs as friends!?" the sickle demon interjected in shock.

"Shut it Gyutaro!" Inosuke cried.

"Anyway," Douma pressed onward with exasperation in his tone. He looked to Rengoku expectantly and his tone chilled. "And you, hashira, who are you?"

The eldest slayer met his gaze, his eyes burning and his smile still strangely bright even when his words held a bite to them.

"Rengoku Kyojuro, I am the Flame hashira."

Douma smiled. "Nice to meet you, Rengoku."

"I have one more question," the hashira demanded brightly. "Have you ever crossed paths with the flower hashira?"

"Flower?" Douma pondered, a wary look in his eyes. "I'm... not sure..."

"You mean Kanae-san?" Tanjiro interjected in confusion. What would she have to do with this?

"Pink butterfly lady?" Inosuke tacked on in shock. "Did all of you take on fucking hashira while I was gone!?"

"You know the butterfly ladies!?" Miku cried before someone at the table could reprimand Inosuke for his language.

"Well, 'course I know the butterfly ladies - how do you know the butterfly ladies!?"

"They tried to kill Papa!" Miku shot back, putting her hands on her hips. "Meanies - both of them."

"They were not mean, Miku," Douma corrected softly. "They were just doing their job."

"Which in turn meant they tried to kill you," Kotoha's voice was suddenly firm as she looked up from her food and looked cooly across the table. "That doesn't make them saints."

"Hold on Mom, they're super cool - " Inosuke tried to intervene. "They totally fixed me up when I got hurt by this spider demon."

"Schooled. You got obliterated," Daki snickered.

"A lot of help you were then!"

"I was busy trying not to get stabbed by the purple butterfly slayer - you're welcome by the way. I almost died for you."

"Bullshit!"

"The slayers are fulfilling their duty," Douma stated certainly. "And we are demons. It is to be expected."

"So you have had a run-in with her?" Rengoku demanded firmly.

"You could call it a small skirmish," Akaza nodded. "We didn't stay long."

"Why do you ask?" Douma raised his head a bit and narrowed his eyes. "Are they alright?"

"Yes." Rengoku nodded with a strangely critical look in his eyes. "This fact assists your case. You spared a hashira... and there are theories about why you would disobey Muzan so readily."

"Theories? You hear that old man - real discreet you are," Gyutaro snickered. "The slayers already know about us."

Douma looked at the wall and Tanjiro thought he smelled a hint of anger, for only a moment.

"The entire reason our cover was blown was because someone -" he glared at Akaza " - did something he shouldn't have."

Akaza shrugged and looked cooly at the demon slayers.

"I killed people."

There was such a nonchalant tone in that explanation that Tanjiro took a moment to register the words, which in turn gave Akaza more time to speak.

"There were three men," he continued, holding his fingers up as a model. "One didn't understand what no meant out of woman's mouths. One was willing to turn the other way. And one was too happy to assist. I won't say I'm a saint, but people were glad to be rid of them. I didn't think we were going to rehash this -"

"We do not have the right to take lives - " Douma sighed like this was a repeated argument. Maybe it was.

Rengoku had his eyes narrowed but he wasn't reaching for his sword. Tanjiro felt that sense of wrongness descend on him again. This very conversation was a contradiction of everything he'd fought for.

"I didn't eat them," Akaza shrugged as if perhaps that made it better. "And I don't need to defend myself. I know that because I did it, it was wrong - but it needed to be done, and I was willing to do it."

"So you are willing to play judge and executioner." Rengoku's tone was dark.

"I don't like sitting by idle and watching innocents suffer. I'm sure all of you can understand that," Akaza's tone was equally dark.

"But you didn't have to steal lives, Akaza," Douma murmured.

"I did." Akaza sneered. "Actually."

Kotoha didn't seem to disagree, carefully turning to her meal with a shrug.

"This is pointless." It was Daki who spoke, rolling her eyes and she lounged on the window sill, still looking out. Perhaps they were watching for more demon slayers. "We're still demons and they're still humans, that's not going to change. Akaza's always going to have a bleeding heart, Douma's always going to scold him for it, and demon slayers will always hate us. Why are we still here?"

"Daki..." Douma warned.

"No!" the demon whirled around and jumped down from beside her brother. She strode up to the table, hands on her hips as she glared at them all. "Why are we arguing about this? It's useless. We won't change, Muzy won't change, and neither will these sword-swinging flesh bags. There's no way this hashira will listen to us - he doesn't trust or like us, I know we can all sense it! If he had his way he would kill us all so let's just go! Everyone leaves, we pretend this never happened: Easy peasy!"

"It's not my place to kill you," Rengoku's voice cut through Daki's whine like his sword. "It's true... I do not like any of you, but the master would want to judge this. You are all anomalies in our work and upon Kanae's words, it's been asked that I invite you to headquarters if I deem you to be honest enough."

"Honest?" Kotoha asked. "Honest about what?"

Rengoku looked at her and Tanjiro saw something strange in his eyes. "You. Kanae claimed the demon protected and cared for two humans... one who shared a strange aura of a demon." 

Everyone at the table tensed and glanced at Miku.

"Me?" she asked, pointing at herself.

"Kanae claimed that you all could be detrimental to Muzan in ways we never could be and that making enemies of Muzan's enemies would only worsen our circumstances. She believes that demons and humans may be able to work together, and Master shared her sentiment, so I will do as the Master would wish."

The room fell into silence and Tanjiro found himself reminiscing about the flower hashira and the kindness that flooded off of her.

It was true... Tanjiro could remember when Nezuko was first brought to light. It had been Kanae-san who had sided with Giyu before the Master had even left the house. She'd stopped the Wind Hashira when he had been ready to harm Nezuko. Tanjiro remembered it vividly, the scarred man had nearly stabbed through the wooden box when there'd been a flash of pink fabric and a smell of flowers. Kanae-san had grabbed the Wind Hashira's wrist and held it there while scolding him.

"Shame on you, Sanemi. You, of anyone here, should know his pain, and the lengths the eldest child would go to protect the little ones. Put your sword down and wait for the Master." She'd made the Wind Hashira falter and snatched the box from his hands, placing it down next to Tanjiro as she knelt back down, the wind pillar growing smaller under her glare. The Wind Hashira, Sanemi had knelt back down silently until the time came to test Nezuko, then he had too willingly spilled his own blood to tempt her. Even then, Kanae-san had been quick to come to Tanjiro's aide. Reprimanding the Snake Hashira for being too harsh and smiling when Nezuko proved herself. She'd doted on Nezuko afterward as much as she doted on the other slayers... Tanjiro remembered fondly that evening he found Kanae braiding flowers into Nezuko's hair and the smile that had adorned his little sister's face.

Yes... if any of the hashira would have an open heart, it would be Kanae.

But Nezuko was different from these people... Tanjiro stared at them all and smelled the blood in the air. Nezuko had never given in to temptation. Nezuko had never harmed someone...

The box creaked open and Tanjiro felt panic flood his chest.

"Nezu-"

But she was already out. She stood in her short stature and looked around the table in wonder, studying each and every demon and human. It seemed she'd already recovered from helping them awaken on the train. That was... more than surprising. She'd used up so much energy. Maybe the demonic energies had awoken her?

All the demons stared at her, she stared back.

It was Miku who broke the silence first, leaning over to ask Inosuke; "Whoaaa, is that his demon sister?"

Nezuko hummed as she walked around the table. She stopped and stared at Douma critically, humming as she stood a few feet from the Ex-Upper Moon. Perhaps she was drawn to the strongest demon in the room? Tanjiro felt his heart climbing into his chest at all the uncertainty.

"So the demon slayers really just allow a demon in their ranks?" Akaza pondered as he kept his eyes on the young demon.

"Ne... Nezuko's never eaten anyone!" it was Zenitsu who spoke up, a little shrill. "She's never harmed a soul! She's innocent, with a human heart."

The demons all looked critically at the little demoness and all seemed to ponder what she was and what she meant.

"I can remember Muzy talking a bit about her, she was the demon who broke away from him," Daki pondered. "He wanted her dead pretty badly."

"Well it's fortunate he's failed again then," Douma supposed.

Nezuko just stared at Douma, standing terrifyingly still.

"Is everything alright?" Kotoha asked as she watched this interaction, glancing at Tanjiro for confirmation.

"I... I don't know," Tanjiro managed, hoping Nezuko didn't take this room of demons to be a threat. "She's undergone some hypnotism to discourage her from eating humans... but that doesn't apply to demons so she may feel threatened or confused - "

Nezuko reached over and pat Douma's head. Even as he knelt he was taller than her so she had to go on her tiptoes to reach it.

Oh, the silence that followed felt like a tension that couldn't be cut... that was until Gyutato started cackling, doubling over as he held his stomach and laughed.

"Threatened!? Oh yeah, she's so scared!" Gyutaro wheezed as Nezuko continued to pat a very confused Douma. Daki snickered, Akaza tried to hold in a laugh, Inosuke and Miku joined the loud cackles as they saw their father's face, Kotoha smiled, and Tanjiro couldn't help but feel a cautious smile come to his face.

The air smelled less wrong now... still thick with danger, but a promising lightness to it; like the world after a rain.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Demons and humans. Demons and demon slayers together, under the same roof. Gyutaro watched it all with a bit of morbid fascination. He watched that flame pillar sit tense and ready to fight. There was a confidence resonating in his stature that not even the old him would feel comfortable rushing into. The other two were insects compared to the hashira, though Gyutaro would admit the boy with the box smelling of wisteria had thrown him off.

It had taken a while to deduce there was a demon in there... and that came with its own slew of consequences.

So the Corps was willing to work with demons. Gyutaro could see the way that idea sparked something in both Akaza and Douma.  It was no secret ambition; they'd discussed it plenty: 

How Mirakuru and Kotoha would be safer with their own kind. The demon slayers may be weak individually, but there were many of them and they weren't to be messed with. All that nichirin dissuaded even the petrifying Kokushibo.

How they had the same goal as the demon slayers; to take down Muzan. To rip that man's pretty eyes out of his skull and watch as he squirmed in the sun. To listen to him beg just as they had groveled. To make him suffer... but it would never work; the corps would never accept them, never forgive them. Fifteen hashira had fallen to Gyutaro's hand and far more inexperienced slayers, Daki had more than half that. They'd walk into that place criminals and walk out murderers.

And yet... and yet...

The corps let a little human boy travel with a demon sister. They had enough faith in this demon, faith that she wouldn't snap one day and devour an innocent or her brother. Faith that she was stronger than her instinct.

Could they prove the same to the corps? That they were stronger than they once were? That they had shifted from their course...

Had they?

Sure they didn't needlessly kill anymore... they didn't eat humans. That didn't mean Gyutaro forgave the blessed, forgave humanity. He knew how ugly it could be... uglier than him...

"But you're not ugly, Gyutaro. The world is cruel and it tells us those lies; it's our hearts that make us beautiful and despite how hard you try, I know you have a good heart. I know you're a good person, I can see it in how you treat us."

Kotoha had said that. He risked a glance at the matriarch of the house and saw her studying the scarred boy... Tanjiro, if Gyutaro remembered correctly. She was studying him with a familiar look in her eyes as Tanjiro explained coming home to a house of a dead family. She'd given Gyutaro that same look when he told her that his mother tried to kill him... multiple times. She'd looked at him with that soft look and then she had hugged him. She'd hugged him and told him some shit about the world being cruel to those who never deserved it. She'd hugged him...

That had been an interesting day.

Gyutaro sighed and leaned on Daki as they watched Akaza do the dishes while everyone else seemed enthralled with the scar-boy's story of his sister, his run-in with Muzan, and his adventure getting the slayers to accept Nezuko.

The entire time it was painfully obvious that Douma was thinking of Miku.

Daki mindlessly began to run her fingers through Gyutaro's hair, setting out to braid some of it as she too listened to the story, pausing a few times when the kid got to the more nitty-gritty parts of his poor tragic past. Gyutaro rolled his eyes a few times... but he could appreciate it.  He'd do the same for Daki if he stayed human... regardless of if she ate humans or not. He glanced at the little demon girl who had taken to exploring the house, not yet daring to venture close to the siblings at the window. She couldn't have been much older than Daki had been when they turned, based on the boy's age. Gyutaro wasn't sure what to do with that information.

Minutes ticked by and the sun began to rise, forcing Gyutaro and Daki to retreat inside and draw the windows close. They took their new place in the corner, Gyutaro with a few more braids than before and Daki with her head on his shoulders, bored out of her mind by the look of it. He began to return the favor by braiding her hair and that seemed to soothe the tension from her shoulders. He would admit; the voices and the exchanging of stories and tense moments were lost on him as he focused on taming Daki's white unruly hair. Once she absorbed the last of her ribbon remnants from the red-light district she had returned to her true form and hair color, but that had been years ago... still, Kokushibo's sword swings lay fresh in his mind.

He nearly decapitated the young demon when he felt someone pat his head. It was Nezuko... she was staring at him with a bit of wonder and a strange bit of familiarity as she pat his head and watched him braid Daki's hair.

Great. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Daki looked back nonchalantly at the little demon before closing her eyes and resting - not sleeping, obviously, but probably just tuning out the minor annoyances; mostly Inosuke. Gyutaro finally voted to ignore the girl and set back to braiding. This was apparently the wrong choice as the girl leaned closer to study what he was doing.

"What the fuck do you want?" he demanded in a hiss.

As if to answer, she sat down in his lap and took some of Daki's hair in her hands, and began braiding.

Okay - what the actual fuck was supposed to do now? His first instinct was violence, but that was a no-go and he was trying to be better at that, okay? His second instinct was to be cruel, but that was something else he was trying to work on. His third instinct... he didn't have a third instinct so he just sat there in shock.

Daki was immediately alert as she felt someone else start braiding her hair. She glanced back skeptically at the little demon girl before coming to some conclusion, shrugging and returning to her original position.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Gyutaro demanded.

"How am I supposed to know?" Daki shrugged. "Don't let her fuck up my hair."

"A lot of help you are," he hissed.

She only snickered and Gyutaro considered (for only half a second) yanking her hair.

"And you think they'll be willing to listen to us... to hear us out?" Douma's voice broke Gyutaro out of his world and he tuned back into the "serious conversation" happening over at the table.

"I believe so. No one would do anything until the Master willed it," the hashira explained. "But if the Master willed it - "

"Would any harm come to Kotoha... or Miku?" Douma pressed.

"Douma! We've talked about this," Kotoha scolded gently. "I won't go if they won't accept you."

"I just... want to know," Douma murmured, perhaps a bit ashamed.

After a few moments of silence, the hashira spoke again. "The corps would not harm innocents."

"Would they harm Kotoha, Miku, or Inosuke for what they know?" Douma pressed.

A moment. Then two.

Then finally; "I would not allow them to."

That made Gyutaro look up. The flame hashira was still sitting tall, but there was something in his gaze that was strangely more agreeable. Akaza walked over and, having finished the dishes like a loser, leaned nonchalantly on a wall.

"You would protect them?" Akaza grinned.

"Inosuke is my tsuguko. And as far as I know, the other two would be considered innocent so I would not allow harm to befall them. I cannot say the same for you." 

"But your... your Master would hear us out?" Douma asked gently.

"Yes."

"Has anyone considered that this could easily turn into a trap?" Daki asked suddenly. "We go walking into the slayer's headquarters and they all jump up on us?"

"It's been considered," Douma murmured.

"And if they hear you out and decide that you're still guilty?" Kotoha challenged. "What do you do then?"

"Same thing we've always done... run," Douma managed.

"Oh boy, what fun," Gyutaro scoffed. More running, more close calls. That would not be fun, maybe a bit more fun than running from Kokushibo... actually scratch that, it could be even less fun.

"But we need to consider what happens if they hear us out... if they agree to work with us," Douma explained. "We'd get a home. We'd get a legion, we'd get stability. Miku could grow up in the same house with friends and fellow humans. We all could stop looking over our shoulders... and we'd be closer to Inosuke. We could work with the demon slayers to develop new poisons... maybe even a cure..."

A cure? Gyutaro's head snapped up at the sound, as did the scar boys... Tanjiro. 

"There's no cure for demons," Daki spoke Gyutaro's mind.

"Not yet... but there may be..." Douma murmured and Gyutaro didn't have time to dissect how that made him feel.

Being human again? Being weak but still monstrous? Being - 

"I say we do it. Try it, at leat. We have more to gain than we do to lose," Douma explained.

"I disagree, to lose any of you is to lose something irreplaceable," Kotoha murmured, looking over all the demons. "It's a huge risk."

"But it may be a necessary one. If they're willing to talk, we should talk."

"And if it goes south?" Kotoha challenged. "If they try to kill you? Could you take on that many? Could you escape?"

"If we're together?" Akaza asked. "Without question."

The demon slayers tensed at that statement but Gyutaro felt his shoulders relax. It was true. Four (well three if you got technical) Upper Moons working together would spell ruin and surely the hashira knew that.

"It would be worth the risk... please," Douma pleaded.

Kotoha hung her head and looked around the table, her eyes sitting on the hashira's figure.

"Very well, but I will stay behind... with Miku and Inosuke," Kotoha murmured.

"What!?" Inosuke demanded.

"The slayers will not harm you - " the hashira began.

"I do not trust them to not use us as bait," Kotoha answered cooly, staring at the Flame hashira. "You may claim good intentions, but Douma's right: you're demon slayers, my family is made up of demons. It's foolish to assume otherwise. If Akaza believes that you can take on the slayers, I will believe that. But you, Douma, fight best when you don't have to worry about us, so we'll stay back."

"What if a demon comes - " Douma tried to argue.

"I have a demon slayer now," Kotoha smirked proudly as she gestured to Inosuke. That made Inoske's eyes gleam with pride, his earlier outburst forgotten.

"Really?" he asked. Gyutaro grinned... the kid had no idea the grey area he was in. He was happy to serve his family even as they discussed the possibility of fighting the very corps he was in. God bless the idiots.

"Of course," Kotoha smiled softly, looking back to Douma. "This way, if it goes well, we'll come to join you. If not, you return to us and we continue running."

There were a few flaws in the plan, but if they moved somewhere new... and played their cards right... it wasn't the worst idea.

"Sounds good to me," Gyutaro nodded. "I like contingency plans."

"It's not the worst of ideas," Akaza agreed, looking to Douma and then the hashira. "What do you think Kyojuro, would that work?"

"You're asking someone on the wrong side," the hashira answered, something different in his tone as he looked at Akaza... and that difference made Akaza smirk smugly.

What was all that?

Nezuko hummed in his lap and began a new braid pulling Gyutaro to the task at hand. Whatever they decided he'd go along with it, even if it was suicidal. That just seemed to be their life. As long as they all got to sit together at the end of the day and laugh about it, he'd be fine. That was the strange thing now that he smiled to himself about. No matter what the situation was, as he glanced from Kotoha's firm eyes to Douma's strong posture and Akaza's bright grin, he knew that they'd survive it.

After all, he hummed to himself as he finished a new braid alongside the little demon, he'd always been too good at surviving.

Chapter Text

"I won't go during the day."

Douma looked up at the stars and took a breath for patience, his smile twitching as he tried to coax his stubborn companions once again.

"Daki, we have to - "

"No!" She cried, crossing her arms and sitting on the ground like Inosuke used to do when he threw his tantrums. "No, I won't go if it's during the day!"

"Daki, it would make the demon slayers more comfortable and it makes sense from their perspective - " 

"And it traps us!" Daki snapped. "If this goes wrong we'll be caught in a trap, we won't be able to escape, we'll die! I don't want to die!"

"We won't die," Douma lied through his painful lack of knowledge that he knew may just kill them all. "We're upper moons, that's why they want to meet in daylight... because they know they can't kill us. We are dangerous. We won't die."

"We will! You know we will," Daki whined. "I don't even want to do this and I definitely don't want to go when the sun is out!"

"I'm with Daki," Gyutaro announced, surprising absolutely no one.

They sat around a rocky forest clearing. Kotoha, Mirakuru, and Inosuke had all moved to a safe location, close enough to the slayer headquarters so Douma could reach them if this went south but far enough so no slayers wouldn't stumble on it. It was an impressive little inn that charged a decent price and had a good amount of wisteria trees around to discourage any demons from venturing closer. It didn't do much against demon slayers though...

The moon was overhead but Douma could sense the sun was only an hour or so from rising. If they wanted to get to the Slayer headquarters and even have these talks, they needed to leave soon. It had been hell and a half convincing Kotoha to let him go and even then, she had held his face and kissed him like it was their last.

He promised her he'd return... as much as he intended to keep that promise, the threat of a demon slayer's sword was closer than ever. It seemed Daki had faced that same realization because this was the fifth time they'd argued over this.

"We are four of the most powerful beings on this planet," Akaza spoke up from where he leaned on a tree. "Of course the humans are cautious. Meeting during the day makes them feel as though they have some control. If we all work together, there's no way they can kill us. If they try, we hold a shaded position until night comes. Our stamina can outlast any demon slayer, no matter how powerful they are."

"But we'd be at a disadvantage. We'd be on their turf, man." Gyutaro argued. "They'd have the upper hand: hell, I can smell the wisteria from here. And I hear half of them are batshit crazy - what if they just blow the roof open!?"

"I could form a thick enough ice shell," Douma pondered. He'd never tried, honestly - but with debris and a bit of luck it was in the realm of possibilities.

"Douma and Daki can keep us shaded, and then we cover each other's back. If one of you gets grotesquely injured or poisoned, we cover you until you're back at full. We would have to be conservative with our offense so we don't bring the place down around us. If we are attacked, staying inside and keeping the building together should be our top priority. Douma can keep slayers locked at bay, the two of you have long-range attacks, and I can cover our asses if they get too close - "

"That assumes we have to fight them." Douma picked some old dirt out from his nails with a sharp sigh. "We're not looking to fight them..."

"The odds of that aren't exactly in our favor," Gyutaro sneered.

"Yeah! You heard the hashira! He hates us!" Daki whined. "They all hate us! They won't work with us! This is going to be pointless! It's a trap."

"Maybe," Douma soothed. "But... you two never would've done half the things we have if you were half a century younger, maybe they can surprise us too."

That was true. The idea of Daki giving up feeding or Gyutaro working with Douma likely still gave Muzan a headache to this day. Nevermind Akaza.

"But they're humans," Gyutaro sneered.

"And so were we," Akaza smirked. "We changed. We grew desperate, maybe they have too. It's been centuries and they've gotten nowhere close to killing that bastard. We're the best shred of hope they've ever had." 

A wind picked up through the trees drawing Douma's attention once more up to the stars that peeked through the swaying branches. Fading... they needed to start moving.

"So... I guess it all depends on what matters more to them; their dumb morality or their chance at killing Mumu once and for all?" Daki pondered.

"Ey - ey, what's with you being all smart?" Gyutaro teased, sitting down next to Daki.

"Shut up!" Daki cried, her ribbons flicking with displeasure, one slapping her brother in the face.

"So, are we accepting that we're heading off to the headquarters? Finally?" Douma demanded before Gyutaro could cry in indignation.

"No," Daki answered, jutting her chin in the air as she sneered. "But you're gonna go anyway and that means we have to go with you."

"I am going to go," Douma nodded.

Daki sighed and threw herself dramatically on her back, waving her arms as if she were making a snow angel in the grass. "You're gonna kill us all."

"Maybe he will," Akaza agreed. "But it'll be a fight to remember."

The two siblings groaned at that familiar mantra.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kyojuro's crow led them to the mansion (so it was crows that had allowed the slayers to send information so fast. Interesting). It was a good-sized house though the stink of wisteria flowers was overpowering. Personal demonic qualms aside, Akaza could admit it was a good base of operations. Nothing compared to the vastness and intricacies of the Infinity fortress, but it was suitable. Crows funneled in and out of the house and the stench of nichirin swords and demon blood was practically baked into these walls.

Kyojuro's crow perched on the roof of the house and studied the four demons as Douma approached the door.

"Do we just knock?" Daki asked skeptically. She stood at her brother's side, ready to jump into action. Every muscle was taut and ready to snap, every ribbon unusually still. Gyutaro was a bit better at concealing it, but his eyes betrayed his nerves. He was picking every shadow apart like it was a slayer in hiding and every so often he fidgeted with one of his scythes, rolling it over his fingers in a display of mastery...

Akaza himself was a bit tense, but what idiot wouldn't be when walking into a nest of slayers? He doubted Muzan would feel confident doing what they were about to do... Actually, Muzan wouldn't have even considered it. Sunrise was minutes away and in a few steps, they'd be trapped inside this mansion with the sun as their prison, surrounded by wisteria and steel. Was it stupid? Yeah. Definitely. But Akaza wouldn't lie, a part of him was thrumming with excitement. Whether this went badly or well, something was going to change. If they joined the slayers, they might just be able to pull off the murder and coup of the century. If not, well Akaza would get the fight of his life, and god no matter how moral he got, that thrill would never grow old.

Koyuki would be frightened of him if she was still here... but Hakuji was dead and like it or not he was Akaza. Akaza lived to avenge Hakuji and make all who had loved him proud... but if he didn't have that, he still had the fight in his heart and the idea of fighting a group of slayers at the same level as Kyojuro was... exhilarating. Would they all have that spirit? That passion? That strength?

A knock pulled him out of the spiral and he consciously relaxed his fist. Douma had knocked and the crow on the roof cawed in tandem.

Within a moment the door slid open and the demons came face to face with a young girl possessing the creepiest eyes Akaza had seen in a human to date. She stared at them all with a controlled smile on her face and blinked exactly once.

"Welcome. The Master's been expecting you, please come in." Her voice pinged uncomfortably off Akaza's spine, familiar in nature but oh-so wrong. It was monotone, controlled... still, it had the same lightness to it that Miku's had. She was a kid, but the level of control she had over her movements and expressions... It was the same control Kyojuro had held as he sat at a table surrounded by enemies, a smile firm on his face as his eyes glimmered.

Of course this girl would share that level of control. She worked with demon slayers, traumatic acceptance and discipline were practically carved into their existence. Why was he surprised, he mused such ponderings to himself as he slipped through that condemning doorframe. They followed the girl through the halls, Daki bristling at every creak in the floorboards. Gyutaro tensed every time their hall intersected another one, prepared for an ambush. Douma managed to stride without revealing a sliver of nervousness, he had his mask back on again showing the world a demure, polite expression as he observed the house passively.

Akaza only rolled his neck as the suffocating smell of wisteria filled his every sense. Their senses would be worth shit-all given all this wisteria in the air. He wrinkled his nose and tried not to cough - something the damn twins failed at.

Finally, the girl turned back to them, gesturing to a door to their side.

"The Master wishes to meet you before the hashira meeting." Nothing else, just a statement and a gesture of her hand to the door. Akaza clenched his jaw and ignored the subconscious fears that rolled in his mind. He could activate his blood demon art to sense any dangers but that might seem aggressive. Still... something felt off about this and the fact that he couldn't be sure frightened something mortal in him.

Daki and Gyutaro were perturbed too, they were practically merging into one with how close they stood beside each other. Daki's ribbons pulsed with her nervousness and while Gyutaro had stowed away his sickles, Akaza had grown familiar with the way the boy fidgeted with his fingers - always ready.

Douma, with that mask of false politeness, bowed to the girl.

"Thank you," he murmured as he turned to the door and slid it open.

Akaza would begrudgingly admit that he braced himself. He waited for the attack, the flash of nichirin, a sudden battlecry. His senses were scrambled, his confidence wavering, if there was a slayer on the other side of the door, he couldn't smell them over the wisteria or hear them until they moved.

But nothing came.

The door slid open and they were met by candle-lit warmth, tatami mats, another child, and the master of the demons slayers. All things considered, an underwhelming display.

The master was not a warrior. His fighting spirit was warm in a way Akaza hadn't quite seen before. There was determination there, simmering under a weaker, diseased figure. There may be a rage, the gentlest of ones if so, but the violet spirit that burned in the master's soul was... burning in a way Akaza didn't have time to dissect.

"Master Ubuyashiki," Douma bowed and Akaza followed suit, stiffly and respectfully. Daki and Gyutaro lowered their heads but did nothing else. The two were atrocious at hiding their thoughts: Gyutaro was skeptical and Daki was unimpressed by the blind man they faced. They were never allowed to play poker.

But, he could get their disbelief. This was the master of the demon slayers... 

"You must be the Moons," Kagaya Ubuyashiki smiled, and there was strange warmth in his tone Akaza wasn't sure he could understand. They were demons, monsters that had slain many of this man's followers... and that surely caused the rage hidden in those clouded eyes, yet the man could smile sincerely.

Strange.

"Please," Kagaya urged, gesturing to the ground as he stared straight beyond. They all sat on the mats, kneeling in Douma and Akaza's case. Akaza took care to study their surroundings.

There was another door to their left, different from the one they'd entered that had now been slid shut. There was light peeking out from under that door's frame and Akaza could make out the distant sound of rousing birds. Surely that door led outside - they'd have to be wary of it. The roof didn't seem to be harboring any threats and strangely enough, there were no guards, only another young girl sitting by the master's side.

Did the Master trust them that much to not take a chance to kill the leader of the demon slayers? Or was this a test? He looked to the rafters and tried to listen.

"I admit, I'm curious," Kagaya's gentle voice pulled Akaza away. "When Kanae first offered her thoughts on reformed demons, I wasn't sure what to think. Similarly, when Kyojuro explained the situation I remained skeptical. I'm skeptical still... but curious, and recently curiosity has borne good fruit. Indulge me, then. I want your names, your stories, I wish to understand why such high-level demons would claim to rebel against Muzan... why they would turn to their enemies."

They all glanced at each other and unsurprisingly it was Douma who spoke first.

"I am Douma, I was once Upper Moon Two," he introduced.

Kagaya slowly turned his head towards the girl and she smiled. That smile sent a prickle of needles down Akaza's spine.

"He's the tallest of the lot, leanly built but muscular, as expected. His silver hair catches the light with a gilded sheen - its unruly, though striking. He is the rainbow-eyed demon that Kanae-san described, with the red stain on the top of his head and the golden fans on his belt. He's comfortable with polite courtesies and hides his emotions well behind a rehearsed smile." The girl's descriptions were given swiftly and succinctly. Coldly, even. Kagaya smiled with gratitude for her and then continued with interactions.

Akaza introduced himself, then Gyutaro, then Daki with perhaps a bit more snip to her voice. Each of them was described quickly, highlighting recognizable visuals and weapons. Each one left one of the siblings shifting uncomfortably while Akaza did his best to understand the mortal child before him.

"He's well-built and shorter than the first. The stripes he dons are blue and cover his arms and parts of his chest. His hair is pink, much like how Kyojuro-san described and he bears no weapons, though he holds himself like he's at a dojo. Unlike the first, his expression is a scowl, though his stance remains assured."

"He is slightly more misshapen than the rest, he knows this well and hates my mention of it. He appears lithe but above all else fierce. Birthmarks mar his face, his teeth are sharpened, his eyes are dark, and his sclera are golden. I know he has sickles, from what the reports state, but he's stored them somewhere I cannot see. His wariness is evident, and unlike the others, he makes little effort to mask his emotions."

Gyutaro snarled at that one.

"She is sticking closely the sickle demon. She's immensely human appearing, much like the first, but very pale in complexion. Her attire is more revealing, yet the ribbons at her waist shift organically, likely an extension of her Blood Demon Art. Her hair is long, fading into a light green, and her eyes are golden with a center of red. She resembles the demon Giyu-san and Shinobu-san encountered on Natagumo Mountain. She also does not mask her emotions - she is... perturbed."

Daki, indeed, was. 

Akaza, however, was simply intrigued. She was so serious, so orderly. Ignoring her vocabulary, her simple monotone descriptions made Akaza's skin crawl as she routinely dissected each of them with their stances alone.

Kotoha had been able to look at someone and guess what they were feeling, but she did it with an air of warmth and caring. This girl... this girl looked at them and tore apart the details into flaws, descriptors, and warnings; it was calculated, like how Akaza's demon art could locate weaknesses. All the while Akaza stared at Kagaya and the girl, who he eventually deduced through the thick stench of wisteria to be his daughter. Kagaya nodded politely and seemed to commit all of their descriptions to memory.

"Thank you, Nichika. Welcome, allies," he murmured eventually. "If that's what you are."

"It's what we desire to be," Douma answered diplomatically. Always one for pleasantries... 

"That is my hope," Kagaya murmured wryly. "Please... tell me how all this came to be - why would you all leave the comforts of your horrors?"

Douma took a moment before going into the age-old story that Akaza had probably heard far too many times.

"I used to be in charge of a cult, though that sounds unsavory it is where such things began. Kotoha, a human, joined and through a series of happenstance, we - "

"No... before that," Kagaya interrupted softly, startling both Douma and Akaza. "Tell me how you became a demon. Tell me of your sins and your triumphs and your life. Tell me of Muzan and yourself... and then tell me of why you left him. Explain to me all you have been, and why you changed."

Akaza felt his throat close, strangely enough. The master wanted all of that!? He thought back to the hashira he'd slain and the slayers that fell to his hand and he had a sneaking suspicion that they would all be asked similar questions. This was a trial in itself and... if they couldn't convince the master, perhaps they would have to fall on plan B after all and fight their way out. Maybe this was the prerequisite - the test to see if they even deserved a trial...

Very suddenly Akaza didn't want to be here. He had no desire to spill his heart and soul to a stranger, let alone an old enemy. He would not use Hakuji's tragedy to defend Akaza's sins. What happened when he was human would not excuse what he'd done as a demon. He'd admit to slaughtering slayers and gouging on humans. He'd... he'd admit to Muzan's cruelty. Escaping from under a monster's whims was reason enough?

What use did his human life have in such matters?

Douma took a breath he didn't need before beginning again and Akaza cursed him. Douma, of course, was willing. This was his chance to give Kotoha and Miku a home, a permanent place where they could grow old.

Gods damn it all this was their chance to feel safe again. Akaza clenched his jaw and tried to prepare himself. Fuck. Fuck -

"I was born a strange child..." Douma murmured through Akaza's staunch headspace. "These eyes did not come from demonhood they were... always mine. A sign from the gods, or so my parents claimed. I spent my whole life on a pedestal. I was a superior being not because I was divine, but because I could fool everyone into thinking I was. From that pedestal, I would not know emotion for a very long time."

Like a wary river, it all trickled out of Douma's mouth. His childhood in a cult, his mother's descent into jealousy, the murder of his father, the arrival of Muzan, and in excruciating detail... the horrors of demonhood. Douma didn't hesitate to spill his guts and Akaza both cursed and admired his honesty as the demon lay bare all he did and enjoyed as an early Moon. He explained finding Gyutaro and Daki, turning them into what they were now, he explained his rivalry with Akaza, and he explained his nonchalant attitude to the entire world that he held no emotion for.

"And then... I met Kotoha," Douma murmured, his voice trembling for almost a moment. "And like... like an epiphany, she brought me emotions. It all changed so quickly and drastically and I... I fell in love with her. I cherished her son, Inosuke."

Kagaya visibly brightened at the mention of the young demon slayer and Akaza felt strangely reassured by that.

"I loved Kotoha... and I had to change because the monster I was and the man she fell in love with were too drastically different. Because I fell in love with her... I appreciate humanity and grew to love it too."

 Akaza glimpsed Daki openly roll her eyes and Akaza had to throw Gyutaro a harsh glare when the demon almost snickered.

"I am not... good. I easily fall into old pitfalls and emotions are not... it is sometimes easier to shut them away when they interfere but... but I cannot go back to who I was. Not after... not after her. And fo course, when I stopped eating humans I gained unwanted attention. He would not hear of a demon falling in love with a human, so when he threatened my family I knew I had to escape - "

"Yes... so I've heard," Kagaya smiled, "Though, I must admit there is a discrepancy in the story you're telling and our... findings."

A pin could've dropped three rooms away and Akaza would've heard it.

"A discrepancy?" Douma echoed warily after a moment.

"Kanae spoke of a young girl you travel with. One who shares your eyes and a faint aura of a demon, though nothing she's ever sensed before. Kyojuro also mentioned her, specifically how you failed to mention her in the retelling of your escape."

Akaza felt his muscles trying to tense and he pushed them back down. There was no aggression in Kagaya's tone yet... Maybe Miku's story would have to come out sooner than intended...

"If you wish us to believe you are truthful in your intent, I must politely demand the truth from you all," Kagaya explained, firmly perhaps but not cruelly. "We have theories, but I'd rather understand you all fully before I propose anything to my children. Please, let me have honesty. Who is the girl?"

Douma glanced to Akaza, as if he had any idea what the fuck to do, and then slowly began again.

"She is human."

"Is she?" A challenge.

"The child is Mirakuru. She... she is Kotoha's daughter. And mine," Douma breathed slowly.

Kagaya didn't interrupt.

"I do not know how exactly she was able to be created but she was. Kotoha became pregnant while we were together and when Miku was born it was obvious she wasn't normal."

"How so?" Kagaya asked when Douma remained silent for too long. Akaza wanted to shift, prepare, brace, do anything other than sit there but they were riding a line between danger and safety that Akaza refused to break.

Meetings with Muzan rode a sharper line and Akaza had mastered the art of sitting still and emptying his mind if required. He found himself doing it now even when this human couldn't possibly know the thoughts that gnawed at his mind.

"She didn't need to eat, she healed remarkably fast, she was faster and stronger than any human should be... she was a strange hybrid of human and demon. She..." Douma took a long moment before continuing. "She could walk in the sun."

Again, Kagaya displayed nothing in his expression. He gave no indication he was surprised. When the silence stretched on for a long moment he straightened and smiled, perhaps in understanding though Akaza wasn't sure.

"So Muzan tried to take her for her immunity to the sun?" he posed. "And because he tried to kill your daughter, you took Tamayo's advice and you fled, forsaking your diet of humans and changing, for the better."

Damn. That's right, Tamayo worked with this master. Akaza cursed himself for forgetting.

"Tamayo's mention us?" Douma's asked, suspicion eating into his tone.

Kagaya chuckled airily: "Of course... I'd known of your existence and your daughter because of Tamayo. I couldn't send my children after you and you did not seem willing to come to me. Tamayo spoke well of you, but I wanted to judge you all for myself. I'm glad you decided to tell the truth."

"If you knew everything, why ask us!?" Daki demanded suddenly.

Gyutaro seemed to try and quell her outburst by grabbing her hand. Daki had always been the most outspoken of the Upper Moons, but she'd barely known Muzan's cruelty. If this was a different breed of meeting, she would be a stain on the wall for the interruption, but Kagaya only smiled.

"I didn't know everything. I knew of you all, of your abilities... I knew of a hybrid between humans and demons and I knew that Tamayo trusted you. I still wish to know all of you. Doubtlessly you have committed atrocities that many of my children will not be able to overlook, but I find it easier to understand redeemed characters when they have a moment to be truthful and prove themselves."

"Prove themselves?" Akaza questioned. That never sounded good.

"Redeem?" Douma, as always, focused on the wrong thing.

"I am here, alone... unprotected. If you were aiding Muzan, it would be a good time to strike," Kagaya's words grated against Akaza's skull like a sword against a stone.

"No, it wouldn't!" Daki cried. 

"Daki," Douma warned over his shoulder.

"No, I'm with her," Gyutaro objected. "The sun's coming out and we have no idea if he's actually unprotected. There could be plenty of hashira in this house waiting for us to strike." 

"It's a dumb way to prove our loyalty! I thought you guys were supposed to be clever!" Daki demanded.

"So you don't think you can take on my children?" Kagaya asked. That question sang through the air and tensed all of the demon's shoulders. It cut through the tension and left Akaza's head buzzing.

Gyutaro flexed his fingers and was clearly going to reach for a sickle. Akaza threw him a warning look that stopped him. Daki's ribbons only swayed with her own uneasiness.

"We wouldn't want to," Douma answered carefully, tiptoeing the tension for them.

"Good," Kagaya smiled simply. He turned his head towards Akaza, though he looked right through him. "Akaza, was it?"

"Yes," he answered quickly.

"Tell me your story," Kagaya urged.

Akaza's back tensed and he felt his chest grow tight. 

They'd all, in some way, shape, or form, exchanged their pathetic sob stories. It had been a long day hiding from the sun and Kotoha had gently pried stories from Daki and Gyutaro, asking about their lives, their childhoods... their deaths. She had held Daki for a long time as the girl sobbed about how unfair it was and Akaza couldn't remember a time when Gyutaro had looked so... vulnerable. She had soothed them, telling them that they had been wronged by the world. She had told Daki that it was unfair, that no one should've suffered like that... and she applauded Gyutaro for killing the sick bastard who tried to take advantage of a thirteen-year-old.

Upper Six had cried like children... because they were... and then Gyutaro had looked to Akaza and recognized something.

"We spilled our fucking guts for you, Three... your turn. What's your baggage?"

A brat through and through. He honestly was surprised he'd never connected how young the two were until that day. But... oh, what a day that had been. It had been a terrible time admitting it, speaking it, airing those terrible times, and facing the fact that they were real. It wasn't until you spoke of something that it truly felt real strangely enough...

Hakuji's life had been so real when he spoke it aloud..

It had been hard enough in front of Kotoha, Douma, Daki, and Gyutaro... it was near impossible now.

To a stranger... to a slayer... 

Douma was looking at him... concern in his eyes. Daki and Gyutaro both stared at him, expectantly...

Akaza's forehead burned. Kotoha had kissed it after his story. Daki had tried to hide how her eyes misted for him... how strange had that been? Even Gyutaro had looked pained... At that moment, Akaza had felt human - but weak. They'd all been weak... human in that moment. They'd faced their past together, their vulnerabilities... 

He didn't want to be weak in front of a stranger.

He had to be weak... he hated being weak.

"When I was a human, I went by a different name. As a child, my father grew sick..." Akaza began, and he hated how his voice grew tight already. He wasn't weak - he wasn't human. He was Akaza. He closed his eyes and imagined Inosuke, grinning as he managed to punch him through his defenses. He imagined Miku laughing as she fixed up Gyutaro's hair with Daki.

He wasn't weak. He wasn't Hakuji anymore, he was Akaza... he had to take whatever strength he could in that. He could speak of Hakuji's failures, his stupidity if it meant that Miku, Kotoha, Inosuke, and hell even Douma could rest easier at night without the fear of Muzan's dogs coming for their throats. That, he could do.

"I stole to try and pay for his medicine and got caught three times by the magistrate. I earned these stripes, the mark of a thief." He spared a glimpse up at Kagaya and found the man without a hint of judgment in his eyes.

"My father committed suicide shortly after, knowing if I was caught stealing again they'd take my hands..."

And it spilled out of him slowly, carefully. He mentioned no names, only figures... placeholders. He would not let Koyuki's name be tainted here. He explained meeting the sensei of the dojo... meeting his daughter. He hesitated when it came to the marriage but Kagaya had asked for truth and Akaza wasn't going to allow himself to be the reason this peace mission failed.  He forced himself to push through the memory of finding their bodies... of learning of the poison in the well. He refused to look at Kagaya when he explained the retribution he took on that rival dojo... or how Muzan chose him because he was practically already a demon in human bindings.

Strangely enough, telling his life as Akaza was easier. He was strong as Akaza, regretful, but strong. He explained how Douma had stirred memories he'd forgotten and how it had been enough to force him to recall what he had stood for and what Muzan had taken from him. By the end of it, his knuckles were whiter than they'd ever been, his jaw was clenched, and his voice was laced with anger.

He looked up and found Kagaya's brow just slightly furrowed.

"I cannot atone for my sins, but I can kill the man who took my memories from me and made me dishonor all who wanted me to become more than what I was," he finished resolutely. "That is why I want him dead. That's my story. That's why I come to my old enemies; to kill him. Not love. Not safety... just... retribution."

Kagaya nodded, but said nothing, seeming to roll the story over in his head. Akaza felt deafened by the sound of his memories but the master's heart was as steady as it had been when they entered.

"Vengeance drives many of my children," Kagaya murmured finally. "And hatred is a strong, but self-destructive motivator... I sense it's the same for you two."

He was referring to Daki and Gyutaro.

They visibly tensed and bristled as their turn came around and Daki looked like she wanted to sneer. Still, they too recognized the gravity of the situation and after Akaza poured his damn heart out, they had no fucking excuse to clam up. Not now.

"I'm not going to apologize," Daki began sharply. "I - I know you're probably looking for that, but I'm not going to apologize for any of it."

Douma winced and Akaza held in a long suffering sigh. Kagaya said nothing, and so Daki brashly continued.

If this was a meeting with Muzan, she'd be screaming in pain and Muzan's glare would make nearly everyone quiver. He'd soothe the pain with kind false words to Daki at the end of it but the lessons would ring clear; don't stand up, don't stand out, don't speak without fear... stay reverent.

Daki thrived without the rules.

"We - the district we were raised in showed us no mercy, so we showed it none. We killed people, yes... and some of them were probably good - but - but... that place made us. If it didn't want demons it should've been better. For as many good people as we killed, we ate plenty of nastier one. We don't eat flesh anymore and... and I don't think we will again, but I won't apologize! I can't - I won't ever forgive them. So... so don't go looking for any sort of apology!" She held herself taller and spoke prouder than Akaza had ever heard her sound.

Kagaya only nodded slowly and waited for more.

"We were raised in the Red Light District. I was Gyutaro... she was Ume," Gyutaro began as he saw how uncomfortable Daki had become, staring at her trembling hands in her lap. "I was ugly, she was beautiful, there was nothing else to be said."

And off they went, retelling their tale of woe. How Gyutaro found he had a knack at fighting, how Ume's beauty summoned demons of a different breed. What befell them... How Douma had found them... how they relished getting vengeance...

"We're... we're not good people," Daki admitted softly. "We... we didn't choose to leave him. I'm sorry... but we would not have chosen to change like Two and Three."

"So why did you?" Kagaya asked softly.

Daki looked at Gyutaro and Akaza saw the bond they held. The pureness that was there...

"He asked me to kill Daki," Gyutaro admitted softly like it was still a crime that hung over his shoulders. "He wanted me to rid myself of familial connections so that she couldn't question my loyalty like Kotoha or the kids questioned Douma's."

Kagaya nodded.

"But... my brother couldn't, and we ran," Daki elaborated, with pride. "We found Douma and the deal was if we stopped eating people, we'd be protected. So we did."

The silence descended and Kagaya seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

"Would you eat a human now, if Douma allowed it?" 

The question was obviously a test and strangely enough, Akaza was certain there was no way the two would be able to lie their way through this. Even if this human wasn't in their head, he seemed omniscient in other ways. The silence sat heavy and once again Akaza felt danger prickling his muscles.

"He wouldn't -"

"But if he did, hypothetically," Kagaya hummed. "Since you are so keen to obey other's whims."

"Hey!" Gyutaro warned. He shut up when he saw Akaza's glare but the damage was already done.

"...I don't... I don't think I could," Daki admitted. "But I don't know."

She looked over at her brother who deflated beneath her gaze.

"I... I don't know either," Gyutaro agreed.

"Why the shift?" Kagaya asked, a curious hint in his voice. "If you see no fault in your old ways, why stray from them?"

Daki and Gyutaro looked at each other.

"I... " Gyutaro seemed to struggle for words while Daki turned to stare at the ground knowingly.

"We learned to love humans again," Daki explained after a moment. "Kotoha... she's... she's like Douma says; she's the nicest person ever. She's... she's the best part of humanity and hurting humans doesn't... it doesn't feel good anymore. It did, because you all suck, and I won't say sorry for that... but it doesn't anymore."

"Inosuke too," Gyutaro chuckled dryly. "I dunno, they just changed how we... humans weren't appealing anymore. I can't explain it. Shit just... doesn't need to hurt anymore."

Kagaya smiled. "Not the most confident of answers, but it suffices."

"Suffices?" Douma asked carefully. 

"I've heard your stories... and I know you all now to some extent," the master murmured. "I don't know how much you know of me, but I love every slayer who comes under my wing."

Well that wasn't good. Akaza threw Douma a glance but the superior demons didn't return it, too enraptured with whatever the human was saying.

"It pains me, but does not surprise me, that Muzan treats his subordinates so terribly... but I do not know if that excuses your sins," Kagaya stated.

"What does that mean?" Daki demanded, her ribbons twitching with her words as her eyes narrowed.

"You've all been honest, and for that I thank you. It pleases me to know that some of my fallen children are remembered by the monsters who slew them. It's saddening that others are not. It's also strange to converse with the demons that I for so long hoped would meet their end."

"You don't think we can be redeemed," Douma supposed.

"No," Kagaya answered simply. 

"So you don't accept us," Akaza demanded sharply.

"If I said I did not?" Kagaya posed carefully and there was a threat there that Akaza couldn't quite understand.

"We'd go our separate ways," Douma answered firmly. "We desire no bloodshed. If you refused to forgive us, we'd leave you to your own devices."

"And if I did not let you leave unscathed?" Kagaya's threat was clearer now and Akaza could've screamed as Daki and Gyutaro jumped to their feet. He threw them another glare but they were far to jumpy to spare him a glance.

Gyutaro snarled: "This is a trap?"

"Told you," Daki hissed knowing as she clung to her brother's arm, her ribbons swaying like snakes about to strike.

"If it is?" Kagaya asked carefully, without a shred of fear in his voice. Akaza's skin crawled; were there slayers in hiding around them? Was that why the master could be so confident? Did he merely not value his own life and safety? Why was he so calm?

"You tell me!" Gyutaro snapped. "Is it?"

"Could you fight your way out if it was?" Kagaya's head tilted towards Akaza.

Was this a trap... or a test? Was this condemnation or salvation? Who the fuck knew anymore. They walked in and were forced to be honest with themselves and with this man, maybe that was just what they had to continue to do.

"No." 

Douma, Gyutaro, Daki... they all looked at him in horror.

"What?" Daki sounded small and Akaza took a long breath. Honesty and all that crap, don't fucking fail him now. He looked at Kagaya and continued.

"I exchanged blows with Kyojuro and I know that he is strong, almost on par with my power... even as a human. If there were two of him, even I'd feel challenged in the state I'm in, and I know the hashiras are likely at least close to that. If it was during the night, even if we were pressed and nervous, the four of us would win without question. But... during the day, we're limited to this house so none of us can be remotely as destructive as we could be without risking exposing ourselves to the sun. I don't think we could win if this was a trap, but we would take some slayers with us. Plenty, actually." Akaza stared at Kagaya, knowing full well the man wouldn't see him, and watched as that fighting spirit flared just the slightest bit at Akaza's threat at the tail of his confession.

"But - but you said we could!" Daki wailed.

"We may, but we may also die," Akaza bit back regretfully. Yes, he told them they'd be fine because Douma had been rubbing off on him and he had hoped for the best.

"And yet you still came," Kayaga murmured softly. "Knowing the dangers and the risks... you still came."

"We had to," Akaza answered coldly.

"No we didn't!" Daki lamentations fell on deaf ears, except for maybe Gyutaro who was still holding her hand.

"Why?" These incessant questions were purposeful and Akaza's eyes narrowed at the ever-inquisitive Master.

"Because at the moment all we do is run," it was Douma who interjected. "And that's no life for the people I love."

Daki and Gyutaro, sensing the worst of the dangerous tension was fading, made the right decision and settled back down, crouching now but no longer looming over the group.

"We run and escape... but we want to fight," Douma explained. "I want to create a world where my daughter no longer lives in fear, where I don't have to worry about what he will do to her if I fail."

"Your desire to kill Muzan supersedes your self-preservation," Kagaya inferred. "Your desire to keep your family safe has made you do something foolish and dangerous... which means you think the reward is worth the risk."

"Some of us," Gyutaro murmured cautiously.

Kagaya smiled at that and something in Akaza's chest loosened at the expression.

"Then my mind is easily made," the master explained.

They all felt their nerves seize for a moment as they leaned into the next words, Douma more visibly than anyone.

"There will be no trial today; you will not be executed no matter what my children decide. This will be a discussion on whether or not they are willing to forgive and fight alongside you and you with them. If we cannot reach a consensus, then I will bid you farewell and there will be no bloodshed. I deem you guilty of your crimes but worthy of the chance to avenge yourselves... I do not think you wish us ill-will... and I do not think you are irredeemably evil."

To explain the weight lifted off Akaza's shoulders would be impossible. There was an inexplicable worth to Kagaya's last words and Akaza felt like he had to shake his head to ground himself again. Douma was beaming like an idiot.

"Thank you, Master Ubuyashiki," Douma bowed reverently.

Daki and Gyutaro looked skeptical.

"So... what was with the threats" Gyutaro demanded. Daki nodded her head viciously:

"Yeah, I thought you were about to call on a bunch of hidden slayers to kill us."

Kagaya chuckled warmly, as did his daughter. "And yet... you didn't strike out at me. A weak and helpless man threatened you, and you did nothing."

"That was a test?" Daki demanded. "Isn't that kind of stupid for the master of the Corps to do?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Kagaya smiled wryly.

"Yeah, because we didn't actually want to kill you..." Gyutaro sneered. He seemed to come to an epiphany as he continued. "What if you were wrong?! What if we were actually working for him and tried to kill you!?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Daki agreed. "Do you demon slayers just lack will to live!? Are you all that stupid!?"

"I assure you, I'm not completely foolhardy," Kagaya's smile only grew as he looked over at his daughter. "Nichika... would you?"

His daughter stood and made her way over to the side door that reeked of wisteria and fresh air. She slid the door open and there, to Akaza's minute horror, were who he could only assume to be the hashira.

They had been standing, hands on their swords, stances tense but as the door opened they immediately went to their knees and bowed reverently.

Akaza's horror immediately vanished when he saw the priceless faces on Gyutaro and Daki. It was comical, honestly, and he knew they were thanking whatever gods they didn't act up. Oh, sometimes the universe was wonderfully entertaining.

"There were minute contingency plans if this went wrong, for my children's sake," Kagaya explained warmly. "Though... I sensed you all had good intentions the moment you humbled yourselves and dared to come to such a meeting."

Kagaya slowly got to his feet, with a bit of pain and hesitance that made his daughter - Nichika, if Akaza remembered correctly - come back to his side so she could help him to the edge of the porch where the sun could touch him.

"Good morning, my children," he greeted.

"Good morning Oyakata-sama!" a pink-haired energetic bubble of a slayer greeted. "I'm glad to see you're in good health and we didn't have to jump to your aide and kill the demons!"

A few other slayers visibly tensed at her upbeat mention of a worse scenario. Akaza took the time to run down the line and pick apart these powerful humans.

He recognized Kyojuro, the man looked happier now, far more comfortable in friendly territory, but his fighting spirit hadn't changed. There was the other one; the butterfly girl they'd run into briefly. She stared calmly at Akaza and smiled serenely. When Akaza looked at the slayer next to her, he became strangely thankful it was her they ran into.

The furious dandelion that was the hashira next to her looked ready to commit murder in several different ways, and his fighting spirit seemed willing to lash out at anyone near him. They wouldn't have been able to talk a spirit like that down... at all.

"Moons, before you is the greatest batch of hashira I think the Corps has ever produced," Kagaya introduced with a hint of pride in his voice.

He went down the line and Akaza etched each name into memory as doubtlessly, if they were on the same level as Kyojuro, they'd be important in the future.

Obanai Iguro; Heterochromic-eyed, snake man who also looked ready to strike. He was probably sneering but it was honestly hard to tell behind the mask. His spirit brooded and coiled, swaying patiently, but furiously.

Kyojuro was... well, Kyojuro, and Akaza smirked to see that broad grin. Strangely enough, Kyojuro met his gaze and smiled in return. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa was the infuriated scar-collection who didn't know how to button his shirt. He glared at Akaza and Akaza glared right back.

Kanae Kocho was the butterfly woman with a soft and bright fighting spirit. She had that sweet smile reminiscent of kinder people Akaza had known.

Gyomei Himejima was a unit of a human and Akaza would admit that was his first and only thought as he stared in awe at the fighting spirit that blazed in that man. It was practically a bonfire.

Tengen Uzui was certainly a character and Akaza decided he would kindly reserve judgment until later. Gyutaro was already locked into some sort of staring contest with him so Akaza figured he should be lenient with the 'flamboyant' human.

Mitsuri Kanroji had a similar fire to Kyojuro's, but it was... warmer? It seemed more volatile and bright, a burning brilliant light that reflected her cheerful nature well... a bit like Inosuke, actually.

Muichiro Tokito was... familiar? Strangely... Akaza stared at the immense fighting spirit paired with the blank uncaring stare and felt like he'd seen that mixture before. He didn't have much time to dissect it as the master moved on to the last one.

Giyu Tomioka. A strange spirit, muted but wanting to burn bright. Either that man hated everyone... or just the wall he was staring at.

"And these-" Kagaya explained softly as he gestured to demons - "are the Upper Moons who've come willing to work with us. Douma; the previous Upper Moon Two, Akaza; Upper Three, Gyutaro and Daki who together make up the Upper Six demon."

Douma bowed, Akaza huffed, and Daki waved self-consciously when her and Gyutaro's names came up. They received a conglomeration of glares, curious looks, and fascination.

"And you find them willing, Oyakata-sama?" Kanae asked softly.

"I do," Kagaya nodded. "They are enemies of Muzan, for good reason. They seek asylum for their human compatriots, which I am willing to offer."

"And the demon girl?" It was Obanai, Iguro Obanai, who asked it so coldly. "Did they confirm or deny her existence?"

"Her name is Mirakuru," Douma's blunt streak only came out when it came to his kids and Akaza temporarily cursed it as the previous Upper Two glared at the snake hashira.

"I don't quite care," Obanai responded and his snake flicked its tongue in agreement (if Akaza had to decipher that tongue flick as a sentient choice).

"They did Iguro," Kagaya nodded. "The child is indeed a half-breed."

Just like that the hashira seemed ready to jump to their feet again, save for Kyojuro and Kanae.

"That's impossible," Shinazugawa spat.

"How can this be? How did they do it?" Obanai demanded.

"Flamboyantly, I would bet," Uzui grinned. Interesting word choice, so once again, Akaza wasn't sure whether to judge harshly or laugh... Gyutaro went with the latter, choking out a laugh.

"We don't know how, and we may never know," Kagaya soothed, and like that the tension was gone. It was incredible to watch the hashira react to their superiors. Minor outbursts were soothed and opinions were validated... it was... foreign.

Akaza knelt there and felt a part of himself shift into memories of Muzan's meetings. The blood, the sharp words, the condemnation, and punishments...

A wrong word, a wrong thought, and a demon would be groveling, begging, or whimpering in pain. Even Upper Moons were not spared if they were truly foolish in a poor moment. The pain eased after the first few times, but Akaza learned quickly to not speak or think or even wonder while Muzan spoke. He learned to read Muzan's moods and react accordingly. This was so different, even in the way the slayers held themselves. There wasn't a shred of fear here... only respect.

"I understand accepting the humans and if we're willing to allow a full-blood demon into our ranks, I understand why you would allow a half-breed. But those Kamado siblings are a different story altogether! These are full-blooded man-eating Upper Moons!" Shinazugawa's snarl pulled Akaza out of that shallow memory. There was anger festering in his every word and much of it breezed past the master who continued to smile serenely.

"I know, Sanemi... and I completely understand your dislike of the situation," Kagaya nodded.

"Dislike doesn't begin to quantify it," the hashira hissed. "We're supposed to forgive these demons because they've eaten enough humans to suddenly understand that they can stand up to Muzan? We're supposed to ignore the thousands of lives lost to their appetite simply because they may choose to help us now!?"

"No," Kagaya answered simply. "But we must also consider the benefit of their help."

"I see no benefit," Sanemi... Akaza could appreciate that hate in his eyes and figured it was time to start referring to him by his first name, even if the slayer would likely hate it. That was a brilliant spirit of vehement hate. The man would fight until he was ripped apart, Akaza knew the type.

 "There is no benefit," he continued. "They've murdered innocents, slayers, good slayers, hashira! They cannot be forgiven."

"We're not looking for forgiveness," Douma answered cooly. "We're looking to kill him."

"And you'll kill us while our backs are turned!" Sanemi objected. "I can't trust you any further than I can shove my sword through your neck! If anyone here can trust you, they're fools... I'm sorry Master - " he didn't sound it - "But even humoring this meeting is despicable and dishonorable to everyone who's died to these monsters."

Kagaya took that criticism with grace Akaza knew Muzan never possessed and he was so in awe of it he almost missed the sibling's reactions. Gyutaro tensed at the word 'monster' and Daki sneered.

"We're right here, you know," she bit. "And it's not like demon slayers have shown demons much mercy."

"That's completely different," Obanai interjected forcefully. "Demon slayers kill to protect the innocents you would murder. Demons kill to feed and protect themselves."

Gyutaro extended and hand and pointed accusingly at that snake-man, his eyes flickering with dislike. 

"When you wake up and know nothing but hatred, pain, and hunger... it doesn't feel like a choice or an act - it feels like a necessity. It's the sort of hunger that tears you apart until you quench it, so don't judge what you don't know," he sneered.

"We will judge it all we want. It is a selfish unsatiable hunger that kills, and that deserves judgment," It was Tomioka Giyu who spoke and Akaza smiled to see Gyutaro's sneer deepen. He should probably be taking a side here but, honestly, this was entertaining to watch.

"This is also a moot point." It was Kanae whose voice pulled them all out of their squabble. "We're not asking if the demons can be redeemed. We're deciding if what they can offer us is more important than what they were and what they've done."

"They can't truthfully offer us anything!" Sanemi snapped. A simple look from Kanae soothed him ever so slightly, loosening his stance and forcing his eyes down.

"They are four of the strongest beings we may ever face," Kanae explained firmly. "They know Muzan and his ways far more than we can ever compare. They offer us an opportunity that we would be foolish to squander."

"I acknowledge their worth to our mission..." It was Himejima who spoke and Akaza wasn't even going to pretend that the man somehow wasn't deserving of a first-name basis. Just look at the guy! "Their stories are tragic and their hatred is true. We can weaponize that if we are ever able to look over the moral evil we would commit by ignoring their crimes."

Alright, so apparently Himejima had listened to their sob stories and Akaza wasn't quite sure he appreciated that at all. How many hashira had heard!? He sneered at the thought.

"If their story is true... it's proof that their love has made them better!" Mitsuri beamed. "I think if they're willing to open their hearts, we must allow them to redeem themselves! But... that's my opinion... I leave the decision to the Master."

"Opening their hearts is nothing but bullshit!" Sanemi spat. "They can never atone for what they've done."

"My atonement is killing him," Douma stated firmly. "It's all of ours. Surely that's worth something."

"Maybe for you, but not for the innocents that you devoured!" Sanemi hissed.

"Perhaps we can consider a compromise," Uzui smiled. "A flamboyant sort of agreement that works for both sides!"

"Such as?" Kyojuro urged curiously.

The 'flamboyant' hashira pointed at the demons as a serious look took over his face. "You, Moons, help us take down Muzan Kibutsuji and in return, we protect the humans and the half-breed to keep her out of Muzan's clutches. Once that is over and done with, if we are able to take down Kibutsuji, we avenge the people you killed."

"No way!" Daki cried, jumping to her feet, and immediately Sanemi, Obanai, and Himejima were reaching for their weapons, Sanemi was on his feet.

"Daki," Douma warned urgently.

"We didn't fight through hell just to let some human decapitate us! If we fought and won against Mu-mu there's no way I'd just roll over and die after that! After we won our freedom!" she cried.

"A freedom you stole from countless others when you took their lives!" Sanemi cried started to unsheath his sword. "When you devoured them!"

Gyutaro was up by his sister's side protectively and Akaza tensed. The bubbly girl from before aww'd at the scene of a protective Gyutaro even though it was very likely that the two groups were about to rip into each other.

"Sanemi," Kagaya soothed, remaining calm even as he listened to nichirin slide out of a sheath. "Please don't be rash."

"Master...  we can't trust a word they say... especially if they're not even willing to feel remorse for what they've done," he hissed. "They're still hungry, cruel, uncontrolled animals."

"Watch yourself slayer," Gyutaro sneered. "You haven't been at the top of the food chain for a long time."

His sword was out and Akaza hoped he wouldn't have to jump between a sword and a dumb sibling in the next few seconds.

"We've started a long path towards betterment," Douma tried to soothe urgently. "I am sorry for what I am and what I've done, even if my companions don't completely share my sentiment."

"So you think you can be forgiven now!?" Sanemi challenged as his hateful eyes tore Douma apart. "You think because you woke up and decided to be good that you can atone for the centuries of evil and pain you wrought!? You think you're any less monstrous now because you've decided to suddenly be better!?"

"Sanemi - " Kanae snapped, but the man turned his sword on himself without hesitation and had slit open one of his arms quicker than Akaza thought possible.

His scarlet blood splattered on the stone garden and immediately Akaza felt his mouth water.

It was marechi. The damn hashira had marechi blood running through his veins. Real, pumping, thriving marechi blood. Not out of a bag, or a cup, but dribbling out of a human's veins and splattering onto the sun-touched stones. Daki visibly trembled and forced herself to step back with Gyutaro to get as much space between them and that blood as possible. Douma's hands were trembling slightly and Akaza was certain he was doing the same.

"Look at yourselves! You are as monstrous as the rest of your kind!" Sanemi cried as he stuck out his wrist and strode into the darkness with confidence that was straying into the stupidity category.

"You must truly have a death wish," Akaza chuckled at the sight, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. "Or confidence that we won't all devour you."

"I have confidence that if you do, I can take at least one of you down," Sanemi scowled.

And to that, Akaza laughed. Truly, truly all these people were wonderfully resistant to death, fear, and built to fight! He smiled and shook his head as that human's tempting blood trickled on the wood and made Daki whimper as she held her nose. Gyutaro wasn't any better off.

"You're making a habit of staining Oyakata-sama's floors, Sanemi," Kanae chided softly.

"I apologize, master," Sanemi stated, without even looking at the man.

Kagaya only stared outward and listened while his daughter watched.

Sanemi was closest to Douma and the demon stared up at the boy, trembling ever so softly. Slowly, and purposefully, Douma stood and stared down at him, his face full of an emotion Akaza couldn't read.

"You're right, unfortunately..." Douma breathed. "I am as monstrous as I was before I recognized it. We are starving creatures, hardly more than dogs who've rebelled against their master."

Douma reached out, not threateningly but the slayer tensed all the same, grabbed the tip of the green sword, and brought it to his neck.

Now Akaza got to his feet because goddammit Douma! Now was not the time to get a death wish!

"Douma - " he warned. Kotoha would kill him if he came back and told her how Douma had gotten beheaded due trying prove a point. No, literally, if there was any human who would actually be able to do it, it was Kotoha. Akaza could not fight her.

"If you can guarantee that my family will be safe. If you can promise that you'll kill him and stop this cycle of pain. If you can swear that I can die and know that my children will never suffer by that man's hand again, then you can kill me here and now to avenge those I've feasted on." And Douma stood there, with a slayer's sword pressed against his neck, a true calm expression on his face.

"Douma!" Gyutaro snapped. "The fuck are you doing!?"

"We're not just going to watch you die!" Daki objected, her ribbons coming up in attack formation. The snake man, Obanai was his first name, began to draw his sword at the sight, as did Uzui (Was his first name Tengen?).

Akaza held up a hand to at least keep the siblings in place as he watched with a mix of anticipation and horror, same as everyone else in the morning garden. He kept his eyes fixed on that green blade.

"Can you swear to me, Shinazugawa, that you protect my daughter, my son, my wife... and kill him? The demon that every demon slayer has been trying to kill for centuries?" Douma demanded. "If so, I will gladly offer my pathetic existence as a trade."

Sanemi only stared, blood still trickling from his arm.

"He can't promise that," Akaza warned. "And I won't let this happen."

"You will if it's what must happen," Douma answered curtly, never breaking eye contact with the hashira whose sword was at his throat.

"No, I won't," and for the second time in his life, Akaza purposefully did something immensely stupid to save Douma. He stepped up, ignoring how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into flesh, and pushed the hashira's blade away. The resistance he met, strength-wise, was far more than he expected and Sanemi's fighting spirit flared angrily at the intervention.

Akaza pushed Douma away from Sanemi and glared at him, keeping his back to the angered hashira which was a terrible combat choice, but hopefully, he wouldn't regret it.

"We don't trade lives here," Akaza spat. "Even if it's a bluff you're making, I won't let you make it."

"If it's what must be done - " Douma began.

"We don't treat each other like we're expendable. We can't treat ourselves like we're expendable. I won't allow it and you know Kotoha would never allow it!" 

Douma looked beyond Akaza to Sanemi, Akaza only stayed trained on that idiot's rainbow eyes.

"If you died to save Kotoha, Miku, or Inosuke, they'd have your head and you know it. You said yourself, we're family and we stay together. No sacrifices."

Douma seemed caught by surprise for a moment, perhaps by the Upper Three's sudden earnestness.

The damn bubbly girl was squealing again at the word 'family'. Goddammit that had slipped out, hadn't it?

Akaza ignored her and finally turned to face Sanemi. "We'll worry about answering for our crimes after he is dead. I, personally, have no reason to cling to this world if I can get my vengeance. If it's retribution you want, you'll get it for my crimes; but we have to kill him first."

"I'm not so keen on that - " Gyutaro began.

"Fine," Sanemi's bite surprised Akaza honestly as the hashira sheathed his blade. "But you're not trusted, and I'll hold you to that damn promise. When this is over and done, I want you all to pay for what you've done."

Maybe Douma's act surprised Sanemi... maybe it was Akaza's warm little speech, either way the hashira stepped back into the sunlight and spared a glance over his shoulder at the demons.

"The dead must be avenged. We kill Kibutsuji first... and then you answer for what you've done." The hashira looked back to his comrades, his stance powerful, but his injured arm trembling. "If these are the terms, I'll agree to use these monsters to kill the bigger of our demons."

Kanae smiled softly at her fellow hashira and her companions nodded slowly.

"I accept those terms," Uzui grinned. 

"I see no flaw in using the gifts we're granted," Himejima agreed.

"The conditions are viable to change if necessary, but I think they'll suffice," Obanai hissed. "If they step out of line, we'll kill them."

Gyutaro and Daki were beyond uncomfortable, but they said nothing, miraculouly. Worse comes to worst, if they actually managed to kill Muzan (an absolutely gianormous if), Akaza would cause a diversion long enough to allow the two brats to escape when this was all over and done with...

But... if they did actually do it. If they did finally destroy that monster - he almost smiled at the thought. Dying victoriously had never sounded so sweet. But then he spared a glance a Douma and recognized the wariness there.

Oh... right. Kotoha was not going to be too pleased by this.

Chapter Text

Kotoha was indeed... not extremely pleased. They'd spent an awkward rest of the day waiting in the Ubuyashiki mansion, conversing sparingly with the Master and whatever hashira stayed around to keep an eye on the demons. Douma had no doubt that there would not be a moment of privacy, not while under a slayer's rooftops. But he'd grown used to surveillance and at least these spies couldn't see through his eyes.

But, all things aside, they had returned and in one piece. They were alive. They returned without a scratch to an overjoyed Mirakuru and an eager Inosuke who had thrown himself into Douma and tried to lift him in a hug. The scary part was that the boy almost succeeded - he had truly grown stronger, and Douma was both proud and utterly terrified by such a notion. Kotoha had been beaming too, at least until she heard the entirety of the story.

Oh no, now she seemed to be simmering.

"What."

"It sounds worse than it is," Gyutaro grimaced.

"You told them you'd be willing to die after you kill Muzan?" Actually, it sounded exactly as it was, but Kotoha managed to say it in a way that made it all seem just a bit more die. She crossed her arms as she glared up at Douma. Her anger was... deserved... he supposed.

"Well - well, that's just what he told them," Daki tried to intervene, eagerly so. She'd plopped down and started messing with her hair, a familiar trait to soothe old anxieties.

"Yeah, he didn't mean it," Gyutaro nodded eagerly. "There's no way he's going to - "

"He meant it," Akaza, the snitch, muttered from where he was sitting. "I meant it, too."

"Then you both are crazy!" Daki cried, jumping to her feet and glaring at both of them. "Why the hell would you keep your word!? Especially to a bunch of slayers?"

"There's no guarantee they even will kill him, so it is, as Kanae said, a moot point," Akaza shrugged.

Douma stood perfectly still, subject to Kotoha's gaze as she stared at him.

"Douma..." she began softly, not gently, just softly. "I do not want to lose you. I will not lose you. How could you offer up something like that?"

The demon swallowed the lump in his throat and cupped the side of her face in one of his hands.

"You won't," he vowed... and he prayed once again he wasn't telling a lie. "I will not leave you or Inosuke or Miku - "

"That's not what I mean," she stated firmly as she grabbed the hand that held her. "I don't want you to be traded for our happiness. Even if they uphold their end of the deal, walking into this knowing we traded your life for it - "

She was angry, and Douma's gut curled in guilt strangely. Maybe it wasn't guilt. Maybe it was something else... but there was also a steely sort of certainty: this was not her decision to make. That did not mean it would be pleasant for her. 

"We'll have a home," he soothed. "We won't have to run anymore, we'll be close to Inosuke... Miku will be safe. We'll all be safer - "

"Until they complete their mission!" Kotoha objected vehemently. "And then what? You die for something as stupid as this? I will not let you die for me! I won't walk into this knowing we're safe until they kill Muzan."

"If..." Douma murmured. "Many have tried to kill him before, and I don't know if we can. If we can, it'll be the greatest thing I've ever done. And if we do in your lifetime, I can try and convince the Master to grant me a few more years... he's benevolent..."

"It's the idea of it that bothers me. You are not something to be offered or sacrificed!" she objected. "None of you are!"

"I am," Douma tried to argue gently. "And it's... it's more than a simple exchange... I should've died centuries ago -"

"But you're not dead. So live. No matter how this goes; live."

He stared at her, and what steadfast approach he'd had with the slayers began to trickle away. He had been willing to die, wholeheartedly. Still was, maybe would always be. If that was the trade to keep Kotoha safe he'd do it right then and there... And that would hurt her. He saw it in her eyes how it hurt her. How the very idea of it pierced her heart and put fear in her eyes; fear he had caused. She loved him for whatever reason, and if he left her alone on this earth... that would be his final sin. He gripped her hand and smiled - a hand that did not show the rot it should.

The hand of a dead man, whether she admitted it or not. Whether he admitted it or not. But they'd been so good at denying such things.

"I will," he vowed, gently kissing her knuckles. "I will live."

Somewhere, Gyutaro rolled his eyes and mouthed a familiar: Get a room.

Kotoha didn't see or didn't mind. She squeezed Douma's hands and huffed out the remnants of her anger: "Good."

She squeezed his hand and refused to let it go, even when she turned her scowl to Akaza: "And the same goes for you!"

"Me?" Akaza demanded, startled.

"Yeah!" Daki agreed firmly. "All that talk about 'no sacrificing each other' better not be a bunch of bullshit! If we kill Muzy, you better bet we're all gonna live to celebrate it."

Akaza scoffed: "That's assuming we don't die when he dies. We're dealing with hypotheticals -"

"Fine, hypothetically," Gyutaro snickered as he pointed to Akaza. "If you lay down and die after all this, I'll never stop making fun of you until the day I die."

"This is all assuming they even find a way to kill him." Akaza waved the concerns away.

"Well, hypothetically, I would hope that you, too, would stay with us, Akaza," Kotoha challenged softly. "Our family would not be the same without you."

Douma smiled to recollect Akaza's announcement at the slayer headquarters. He'd called them a family. Akaza saw the look on his face and sneered.

"Stop fucking thinking!" he demanded.

"What? I'm not thinking of anything," Douma defended poorly.

"You are, I see it in your damn smirk!" Akaza accused. "I'll wipe it off your face for you -"

"What?" Kotoha asked curiously as she looked between the two of them. Douma's smile only widened as Akaza grew more flustered. "What happened between you two?"

"Akaza called us family!" Daki teased as she snuck up behind Kotoha and hid behind the woman to better snicker at Akaza. "You should've heard him."

"He finally admitted it," Gyutaro snickered, coming to his sister's side and also hiding behind Kotoha, as if he had any room to tease.

"Shut the fuck up - You haven't even admitted it!" Akaza accused. "You can't lecture me!"

"I sure can," Gyutaro smirked, ducking behind Kotoha, who was beaming.

"We're PACKED!" Inosuke kicked open the front door, hoisting up a bag of trinkets and the few things the family had collected over the years, Miku by his side.

"I even got Gyutaro's feather collection!" Miku announced proudly.

"WAIT - " Panic set in Gyutarp's face as he whirled around. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone!"

Miku's face blanched: "Whoops."

"That was yours!" Inosuke cackled wickedly. "I thought it was Miku's!!"

"Shut up, you fucking gremlin!"

Pure chaos descended in the next few minutes, and all the while, Douma stood there. Kotoha kept a firm hold on his hand as she leaned into his side and smiled at it all.

"Promise you'll stay?" she whispered softly as they watched Akaza hold a rabid Inosuke back from a cackling Gyutaro.

"I promise," Douma murmured... and he couldn't tell if that was a lie. He watched as Miku jumped onto Akaza's head to free her brother, whom the striped demon was holding back despite Gyutaro's relentless taunting. The ex-Upper Two smiled at the ungodly shriek that slipped from Gyutaro's face as Inosuke wiggled free and barreled into him. Daki was on the floor laughing, no help at all, as her brother fell victim to one of Inosuke's wild charges.

"...We should probably do something," Kotoha murmured after a few moments of listening to Inosuke and Gyutaro exchange insults as they tumbled over the floor in some wrestling match.

"Yes," Douma agreed as they crashed into a wall: "In a few minutes."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

When they arrived, Kanae watched them carefully. She watched for any malicious smile or any threatening stances. She watched for the stillness before the strike, for the calm before the storm. No matter how much she wanted to trust that this would work, it was foolish to drop her guard.

I have nothing to say about this idiocy.
Be careful, Kanae.

Despite what Sanemi voiced in his first and only reply thus far to Kanae's letters, she wasn't an idiot. She knew this could very well implode and spell disaster and destruction for the haven she so carefully crafted with Shinobu. This could kill them all, and it would be her fault, solely and completely. That's why she told each of the girls of the dangers - the possible disaster - and offered them somewhere else to go. Surely the Ubuyashikis would care for them, or some wisteria house would take them in. They did not have to stay here and take her risks.

Aoi had looked at her like she was crazy... like Kanae had insulted her by offering her somewhere else to go. Sumi had cried, Naho had blubbered, and Kiyo had begged that Kanae let them stay. No matter the demons. No matter the danger. Their home was here. They didn't want to run from another one.

Kanao had only smiled serenely, not even bothering to flip the coin as she stayed seated and stared at Kanae.

"I'll stay..." she murmured, and Kanae had felt such warmth at that announcement. A true decision... made without an outside force. That warmth was dwindling now as she looked over at her tsugukos. Shinobu was tense with her signature scowl, and Kanao's face was like an expressionless doll, a sure sign she was bracing herself for the worst despite the smile on her face. Kanae couldn't blame them, she looked rather serious herself.

They came down the road shortly after dusk, and funny enough, it was the Hashibira boy who led the charge, carrying the young hybrid girl from before on his back, charging down the road with a cackle on his lips. The demons trailed after him, walking as slowly as humans did, wincing so often when a strong waft of wisteria hit them. 

Daki. Gyutaro. Akaza. Douma... Kotoha... Mirakuru...

Kanae had ingrained those names into her memory so that by the time Inosuke skid to a halt at the garden's threshold, she could smile and greet him.

"Hello Inosuke," she greeted softly, noting how Mirakuru, her arms around her brother's neck, shrank lower at the sight of her.

"Those are the butterfly ladies that tried to kill Papa," she whispered into Inosuke's ear, not as secretive as she thought herself to be.

"Nah, Ka-something and Shinonu are cool. Ka-o's cool too," Inosuke denied obliviously as he set down his sister. "Promise!"

The skeptical look Mirakuru gave the three demon slayers made Kanae truly smile. It seemed caution wasn't warranted solely on her end. Their guests, too, were nervous.

"Hello Mirakuru, we got off on the wrong foot, it seems," she explained as she crouched down and smiled. "My name is Kanae."

She watched Mirakuru's eyes narrow further in skepticism. She gripped the fur of her brother's pants and took a step behind his side - a familiar tactic to protect herself. Shinobu used to do the same... distantly, Kanae allowed herself to wonder how many demons, slayers, and the like had come for this little one. 

She thought for too long because her sister had gotten annoyed with the tense scowl on the hybrid's face.

"You may call her Kocho." Shinobu corrected, scowling down at Mirakuru - and the scowled up at her.

"Kanae-san's fine," Kanae refuted gently, standing back up as the rest of the group arrived. Miku seemed to relax a bit as she stood at her brother's side; the same could not be said about the rest of her demonic company.

Daki was tense, but not aggressively so, likely just nervous based on her tight shoulders and how her ribbons danced. Gyutaro never took his eyes off them, staring as critically at Kanae as she watched him. Akaza seemed to be admiring the writing above the gate's threshold, unconcerned and distracted... or so it appeared. Kanae had no doubt that if Shinobu drew her sword now, there'd be no time to stave off the counterattack.

Douma was at the tail end of the group, his arm intertwined with the woman who bore startling resemblances to both her children, the woman whose critical eye rivaled that of Mirakuru; so this was Kotoha. She looked so much more comfortable than she had when they first met in that alley so long ago.

"Hello," Kanae bowed gently. "I hope the trip was easy."

They didn't have much, a single pack under Akaza's arm and a small bit of luggage on Kotoha's other shoulder. Kanae supposed there wasn't much time for material things when you were constantly hunted by Muzan himself.

"Easy enough," Douma smiled broadly. "Thank you again for this."

"Is it true we're going to live with you?" Mirakuru asked curtly, raising her hand. "Because Gyutaro thinks you're going to try and kill us."

Gyutaro's eyes widened to a comical level, and Kanae had to stifle a giggle.

"You can't say that!" Gyutaro cried.

"I mean..." Daki shrugged, which only urged Miku on.

"But you do!" The now eleven-year-old argued. "And if you won't ask, then I will!"

"I can promise I will not try and kill you," Kanae managed through her giggles. "Despite how she may glare, I can promise Shinobu won't either. And neither will Kanao. You're safe here."

She gestured to her tsugukos with a smile and saw how Shinobu bristled in her peripheral vision, an unsaid threat in how she glared at the ex-Moons.

"As long as nothing is initiated." Shinobu's swift interjection came with its own warning.

"Great..." Gyutaro muttered sarcastically as he met Shinobu's glare. "I feel so safe already."

"Now, come along!" Kanae grinned over the tensions. "I have already set up your quarters."

She led them through the gate and silently felt her heart warm at Mirakuru's little gasp at the flowering garden, all of the moon-blossoming flowers turning their heads towards the silver rays. The flower hashira stepped into the mansion itself and led them to the wing of the house that had been shuttered shut, the wing where Nezuko would stay when Tanjiro returned from the next mission that he'd been sent on.

The new demonic wing. She almost laughed at the irony of it all.

"Will they be able to walk around in the day?" Kotoha's voice pulled Kanae away from the silent tour. The woman was at a window, running her hand over the closed shutters.

"Yes," Kanae smiled at the demons in the hall. "This entire wing should be available for you to peruse at any time - though if one of these windows is unshuttered accidentally, please inform us as soon as possible. There is an entrance to a shaded porch in the garden, a training room, and different bedrooms."

It was a small wing, but it worked for what they needed it for.

"And you're alright giving all of this to us?" It was Douma who asked the question so tentatively.

"Of course!" Kanae grinned. If an Upper Moon asked so politely, she simply had to bask in it.

"Now you guys get to be right here!" Inosuke cackled excitedly. "Every time I come back from a mission, I'll get to hang out with you!"

"Oh joy, so now we're stuck with you," Daki groaned... There was mirth in it, though.

"Aren't we taking up medical space?" Gyutaro asked sharply from his sister's side, scratching his neck subconsciously.

"Pardon?" Shinobu asked just as sharply.

"I can smell it all over the place, even though the wisteria - this is a sort of hospital for demon slayers," Gyutaro explained, scratching harder. "You really think housing us here is the best choice?"

"Do we have to worry about you and the smell of blood?!" Shinobu challenged, oh, always the one to antagonize - it was endearing sometimes. Kanae threw her younger sister a gentle gaze.

"I'm just asking if you're trying to tempt us into going feral with the stench of - " Gyutaro was stilled when Kotoha grabbed the hand that was starting to break the skin of his neck.

"You'll hurt yourself," Kotoha scolded softly, and immediately Gyutaro hunched even further over.

"He's right, you guys aren't trying anything sneaky, are you!?" Daki demanded with a shrill snap, pulling every ounce of attention the room had to spare. "Tempt us with easy snacks or something!?"

"You proved yourselves when you resisted Sanemi's marechi blood," Kanae soothed gently. "I told the Master I didn't think there'd be a problem and that if anything, it would prove your self-control to the other hashiras."

The demons seemed to perk up at those words.

"So you really have that much faith in us?" Akaza demanded, arching a brow.

"No," Shinobu grumbled, soft enough not to speak for everyone.

"I do trust you," Kanae contradicted. "Fully and completely."

The group wasn't sure what to do with that and were strangely silent for the rest of the tour. They eyed up the porch and the training room without a word of protest, at least until Kanae showed them the five rooms of the wing.

"I get my own room!" Mirakuru cried in joy, erupting from the silence.

"We get our own room!" Gyutaro and Daki were equally awed.

"FUCK YES!" Gyutaro dove for the first room he could, Daki on his heels.

"You cretins," Akaza hissed after them. "Control yourselves!"

"Inosuke! Inosuke, you need the room next to mine!" Miku demanded, pulling Inosuke after her (which was surprisingly easy for the young girl to do).

"What are we, animals!?" Akaza cried as they pushed past him. "We need to allot rooms fairly!"

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Inosuke and Gyutaro's voices came from opposite sides of the hallway in a comical moment of synchronization that led to both of them cackling.

Douma was chuckling as he stared down the hall, Kotoha leaning on his arm with a smile on her face. They were as entertained by this as Kanae was.

"Go pick out your room, Akaza," Kotoha urged. "We'll take whatever's leftover."

Akaza grumbled on his way to the furthest door on the right, next to the room Six had taken for themselves, muttering all the way. Kanae watched them settle in and couldn't help but giggle a few times.

"They're loud," Shinobu muttered as she turned and went to go on her nightly check of the recovering slayers. Kanae smiled after her and looked over at Kanao as the chaos continued.

"What do you think, Kanao?" she asked softly.

The girl stood there, smiling, not saying a word or betraying an opinion. Kanae took that to mean something good and chuckled. She had a good feeling about all this, the same feeling she had with Tanjiro and his sister. The same feeling she had about little Kanao. Change was such a risky thing, but it meant progress. It meant opportunity.

Douma and Kotoha turned around and looked at her, something strange in both of their eyes. It was Kotoha who walked up and smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Kanae. Thank you for all you've done," she bowed.

"It's my pleasure, Kotoha," Kanae greeted with equal politeness. "I hope you all grow to trust me, and that you find a home here..."

Kotoha seemed to have a strange but happy look in her eyes. She was critical, perhaps of Kanae's intentions (which was understandable given their first meeting), but there was no denying an excitement at the word 'home'.

She looked back at Douma, and Kanae saw him smile at whatever he saw in her face.

"I do too," Kotoha murmured finally, looking back at Kanae. "It's been a while since any of us had a home."

"Mama!" On cue, Mirakuru came skidding out of her new room. "Can I go explore the garden?"

Kotoha glanced at Kanae. "That's a question for Kanae-san."

The girl looked to the hashira expectantly, and how could Kanae say no? She was too cute! 

"Of course!" she cried happily. "The gardens are yours to explore, just be kind to the plants."

"Yay!" The girl took off like an arrow down the hall and towards the porch, blowing past her parents and Kanae with an inhuman speed. Her youthfulness seemed to make even Kanao's smile purer, and Kanae felt her chest blossom in hope.

Her next letter would be a lovely rebuttal to Sanemi's pessimism.

Chapter Text

My Dear Sanemi,

She would admit, she was slightly smug as she began her letter, the ink scratching nicely against the paper.

Despite your preconceived notions,
the demons have done well here.

She looked out of her window and listened to the night air, full of crickets and other insects that sang to the moon. Every now and again, she would hear Miku's infectious giggles when she was found or did the finding.

Hide and seek was apparently the family's preferred game and based on how the roof creaked, Kanae would bet Daki was hiding somewhere up there. The first time the demon had slid up the eaves, Kanae had been startled by the ceiling shifting above her and she was ashamed to admit that her first thought was a poorly-planned surprise attack. Shinobu had almost torn through the ceiling and a few of the slayers they were tending had been startled, but Daki had apologized surprisingly profusely.

"I swear I didn't mean to freak anyone out of anything - " she had begged and Kanae could only laugh.

"You're alright! We were just startled!" she had managed through her laughs. It was hilarious how tightly strung they all had been - and all over a child's game! "I'm sorry we got you found."

"I'm not! She knows she can't hide in the ceiling! We'll never find her!" Gyutaro had snipped from down the hall.

"Yeah!" Inosuke's infuriated cry had almost reduced Kanae to pure giggles.

They're much more human than I ever could
have imagined.  Though I'm sure you'll
roll your eyes at that.

They play games with each other, and Miku, 
the littlest demon, has made friends with
Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho. Sometimes I hear them
all playing together in the yard.

It's true; Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo had found an affinity for their fellow playmate, and while they were still hesitant to play with the demons, there were a few times Kanae had smiled and watched the girls race around the garden in a game of tag. When was the last time her girls had been so childish?

The girls were sleeping now, and the moon was high, which meant the demons were wandering, and by the sound of it they were letting the young girl win. Kanae smiled as she heard Douma's false woes of how he'd been found and Miku's loud, victorious battle cry from the moon-lit garden. There would be none of Inosuke's familiar cackles, he'd left on a mission a few days ago...

She'd never forget the worry etched on the demon's face... any of their faces as that human went down the road.

"Please... let Daki follow him," Douma had begged her. "She has before - just to keep him safe."

"I cannot allow it..." she had informed him regretfully. "The master insisted you all stay here for now... but I will ask him if it's possible. You could be of more use on the field than off of it."

"We'd be willing to fight," Akaza had nodded from Douma's side. "If the Master allowed it."

"Please, just Daki - she won't harm anyone," Douma had continued to plead.

"I cannot," Kanae allowed herself to stay firm. She would not go against the Master's orders, especially if they made some form of sense. "But I know Inosuke can handle himself for this mission. I promise, before he goes out on another one, I will present the idea to the Master."

The demons care deeply for their
demon slayer boy.

They've offered to help on the field
just so that Inosuke won't face terrible
demons alone.

I have approached Master Kagaya with the
option, and he seems open to it. He may be
assigning demons on missions alongside
hashira, to test their fortitude and loyalty.

I thought of all the hashira, you should be the
first to prepare yourself for such an alliance.

She smiled as she leaned back in her chair and listened to the wind blow through the house. What else to write him? What more would annoy him? What more could she write that would make his heart rate speed and his breaths fume?

What more to do so he would get angry enough to write her back? Angry enough to stomp home?

Ah... She could get petty...

Genya passed through town and met briefly
with Mirakuru.

He had a similar thought process to you,
but he grew in his beliefs when she offered him
a flower as an olive branch. He's  flourishing
as a young slayer, and I'm proud of how
far he's come. He's a sweet young man now.
You should've seen him.

Despite my tone, I do hope you're well, Sanemi.

Please remember to rest your body and mind.
I've sent the crow off with ginger and other herbs
to prevent infection. Please use them.

Times are changing, but I do miss you still.

Kind regards, despite our estrangement.

Your Kanae

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kanae,

I know I can't change your mind.
You're set on this.

Just keep your eyes open, no
matter what they claim, they're demons.
Given the chance, they'll show  their
true nature.

Stay safe.

Kanae sighed as she stared at the crudely folded piece of paper with Sanemi's atrocious handwriting scribbled in the center. She looked at her crow and shook her head.

"He's stubborn," she murmured. "And he didn't even mention Genya..."

The crow only stared at her from the windowsill, bathed in the warm afternoon light. Kanae reached for a piece of paper to write the hashira back.

At least he had written back...

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

My Dear Sanemi,

I'm sure that by now you've heard 
the order that the Master sent out.
The Moons will be accompanying hashira
on  some of their missions.

The night air was crisp and thick with the promise of danger. She felt empty without Shinobu or Kanao by her side, but the flower hashira ran on regardless. As she ran over the rooftops, she spied ribbons in her peripheral, Daki was keeping up.

It's voluntary, of course, and I've already
offered my services. I head out tomorrow.

There was a demon in this town, it had already killed four slayers and who knew how many travelers and village folk. Kanae perched on one of the higher roofs of the village and listened to the night air; Silent. Unnervingly so. There was no clear aura of a demon, at least none other than the one who traveled with her. Kanae strained to make out any signs, but all she was met with was a dirt road and rickety wooden houses that had sat for far too long, stagnant, small fires burning in a few of the windows around which families would be eating their meals.

I've been sent off with Daki while Tengen
has gone off on a mission with Gyutaro,
and I have high  hopes that we both  will
find the siblings wonderful companions.

"I don't feel anything." The demon landed beside Kanae, a skeptical look in her eye. Her ribbons danced uneasily as she too scanned the street. "I think it's hiding."

"Could you think of any way to flush them out?" Kanae probed. Their best bet would be to wait until the demon revealed itself... but with an ex-moon here, who knew how unpredictable this situation could become. Would Daki urge the demon to flee or fight? Was her presence a lure or a deterrent? 

Only one way to find out.

"Nothing that wouldn't get the human's attention," Daki answered fretfully. She bit her lip and seemed to think for a bit. "I wish Gyutaro was here... he's so much better at this whole planning thing."

"I'm sure we can find something," Kanae laughed reassuringly. Daki was so self-conscious for an Upper Moon, it was adorable and worrisome all at once. It was also not completely unlike how Shinobu used to be when she first became a tsuguko.

Kyojuro will be going on a mission with
Akaza in less than a week. He too volunteered,
though he asked for Akaza specifically. I dare  say
Akaza looked more than pleased.

Douma has not offered to leave the house
nor do I think he will too soon, his mild
paranoia  won't allow him to let Miku out of his
sight for  more than a few hours. Though he may
tag along after Inosuke once the boy returns.
Luckily, according to his crow, the boy has
suffered little on his mission.

"You go low and I'll stay high, perhaps we can startle them out of hiding," Kanae offered. Daki thought for a moment before nodding and without another word, Kanae took to the skies, running and jumping eave to eave, house to house.

Ribbons flew, and Kanae noted with interest that Daki could detach them from herself while still showing immense control. The ribbons burrowed under houses and into crevices that could never be reached, and Kanae tried to keep track of them all.

Funny enough, Douma worries, even more than
Shinobu. He looks forward to every letter Inosuke
sends  and you would be surprised at how human
they  all look when the boy writes home.

It reminds me of how Shinobu looks when
Kanao makes her own decisions. She's
doing that more often now. I think Tanjiro,
Zenitsu, Inosuke, Nezuko, and even Miku do
her well. She's allowed to be a child again.
Same with the other girls; I saw Aoi laugh
just the other day.

There. A flash of movement, just a flash, avoiding Daki's ribbons. Kanae flew, and the demon was nimbler than she imagined. It darted out of the way, her sword just grazing its neck.

"No! No - not like this, not to traitors - " the demon shrieked, but he didn't get far as Daki's ribbons struck like snakes, wrapping around his ankles, wrists, and waist, pinning him in place, suspended in between two houses.

"Got him," Daki cheered from the rooftop above.

"Well done!" Kanae praised, and she noticed how Daki beamed under the words. 

Distantly, Kanae wondered how Muzan encouraged his subordinates. How he twisted demons to his whim. It wasn't hard to see how eager Daki was for praise, childishly so sometimes, and it hurt her to think of how vulnerable that must have made her for Muzan's apparent silver tongue. If Kanae were crueler, it wouldn't be a challenge to twist little impressionable Daki into something different.

It wouldn't be hard to take advantage of Daki's impressionable nature. Of Gyutaro's protectiveness. Of Akaza's vengeance. Of Douma's adoration.

But she was not cruel, so she would not, nor would Master Kagaya. She was certain. Muzan though...

She shook her head to dissipate the thoughts. It was time for the real challenge at hand. Kanae turned her attention to the struggling demon that would not escape, no matter how he pushed and pulled against the elastic ribbons.

"What's your name?" Kanae asked softly.

I know there's little chance I can convince you,
but these demons are different, Sanemi. They were
manipulated and twisted into something their
old selves wouldn't recognize. Now, they're allowed
to grow.  They've been given a chance to live.

"Go to hell!" the demon spat back.

"That's where you will go if you don't listen carefully," Kanae answered curtly. "You don't need to die here."

The demon stared at her in disgust.

"Don't hold your breath, Kanae-san," Daki muttered.

I will work with these demons because I
believe they are the hope for our future.
If humans and demons can coexist, Muzan
will no longer have power over demons
or humans.

"I offer you a chance you live free of Muzan," Kanae offered. "To be free and live peacefully, coexisting with humanity - "

"Never," the demon hissed. "I'll never lower myself to those dogs! I'll kill anyone who gets in my way - I'll never bow to them again! I'll never suffer as their equal! I won't make the mistake you did!"

The demon glared right at Daki, who sneered back, her teeth clicking together.

"Very well," Kanae murmured. "I'm sorry then, and I hope you find solace with the dead."

I know you think it's impossible...
But I must believe in it, Sanemi. I
must  believe that there is a way.

I hope this letter finds you well.

I hear from Himejima that Genya is
progressing well, creatively, but well.
I also hear you haven't stopped to take
care of yourself. Your crow tattles on
you.  I'm sending more medicine and rice
crackers along with the order to  rest.

You can't do anyone any good if you're
dead.

Hoping you too stay safe,

Your Kanae

The demon's head fell quickly, without enough time for him to feel a thing. Daki's ribbons relaxed on the corpse, and the demon smiled at the hashira.

"How was that?" Daki asked, her eyes resting too long on the disintegrating demon.

"Wonderful! I wouldn't have found him so fast if not for you!" Kanae grinned as the demon hopped down beside her.

They began walking back towards headquarters with a strange expression on Daki's face.

"What's wrong?" Kanae asked gently.

"I just... It's nothing," Daki dismissed.

"Please," Kanae urged. "Tell me."

Daki bit her lip as they walked, her ribbons wrapping tighter around her now that they had rejoined with her main sash.

"I just remember what it was like in their place... angry and hungry," she murmured.

"That's why I gave him the chance to change," Kanae answered softly.

"I don't know if I would've taken it in that circumstance," Daki muttered honestly. "I don't feel bad, just... odd..."

"You're empathizing," Kanae supposed. "That just shows you're more human now, you can see yourself in the plight of others."

"I don't like it," Daki whined. "It makes me feel weird!"

To that, Kanae only smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry if it distressed you - "

"No, no no no no!" Daki interrupted quickly. "I'm not, like... sad or anything. Just weird... like... I'm thankful I'm different now, or something. I dunno - like I said, it's weird."

To that, Kanae giggled.

"Sometimes... weird can be good," she grinned.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kanae,

Tell Uzui and Rengoku they're fools.
And I've asked for a new crow. You can
keep the snitching one.

Don't do anything foolish.

Kanae looked over the page at the disowned crow and sighed as she stroked the bird's feathers. It clicked its beak but said nothing... it was one of the quieter of the crows. She knew it loved Sanemi, and she sighed at his spontaneous cruelty.

"He'll ask for you back, don't worry. I'll make sure Master Ubuyashiki sends a particularly noisy one as your replacement," Kanae smiled, and the crow ruffled its feathers in reply. Kanae picked up her pen and began to write... she'd have to send this one to Master Kagaya directly so he could send it with the new crow.

My Dear Sanemi,

You should stop trying to solve your problems
by disowning them and pretending they don't
exist.

Harsh? Definitely. Kanae scratched out that line, grabbed a new piece of paper, and began anew.

My Dear Sanemi,

I will hang on to your crow for now.
You know where to find both him
and  me.

She could hear Inosuke, Tanjiro, and Zenitsu training in the morning light of the garden. Miku was cheering them on, perhaps even joining in herself by the sound of it. Kanao was there too... Kanae had seen her when she walked to her office.

Her youngest tsugoku looked happy to be doing sit-ups alongside the boys. She looked happy.

The more Kanae listened, the more she heard. Beyond the sound of the children training, there were the loud, distant sounds of a more serious sparring match. Kanae smiled.

You'll be more or less pleased to hear that
everything at the Mansion is going wonderfully.
Gyutaro and Tengen returned without a scratch,
though neither is too fond of the other. Gyutaro
swore he went deaf, and Tengen felt more or less
insulted by such an announcement

As for Kyojuro and Akaza, their mission went well.
From what I've heard, they were brutally efficient.
Now they spar at the mansion when Kyojuro has  free
time. I dare even say they've become friends. The
children watch from time to time  to get  a feel
for how far they can grow. 

Kanae sat there thoughtfully for a few minutes, tapping her fingers on her desk as she stared at a butterfly that futtered out her window.

"Kanae," that was Kotoha. The Flower hashira sat up and looked to her doorway, where a tired Kotoha smiled, her arms full of a tray of vials.

"Kotoha! Shouldn't you be asleep?" Kanae laughed, standing to help. It was far past morning.

"Yes, yes, I'm heading that way. But I wanted to get these to you." Kotoha's smile was always polite. "There wasn't much of an effect on the blood with the dried wisteria... but the sun-dried one seemed to at least be a bit more detrimental."

Kanae took the tray and the papers that Kotoha had stowed under her arm.

"My, my, you have been busy," she smiled as she ran down the carefully transcribed rows of tests and outcomes.

"Allured, honestly," Kotoha admitted. "It was fascinating, I lost track of time."

A yawn confirmed that, and Kanae smiled as she set the tray to the side.

"Get some sleep, it's too far into the day," she ordered softly.

"Happily, good Day, Kanae," Kotoha dismissed as she left for her nocturnal sleeping schedule, her black-curtained, shuttered wing, and her lover who would doubtlessly be waiting for her.

Kanae watched her go and immediately smiled before slipping back behind her desk and continuing to write.

Speaking of how far we can grow, Kotoha's asked to help
us with the  experiments on the Moon's blood. She was
interested  in poisons and eager to be of  assistance. 
She's a fast learner, too.

As far as the Butterfly Mansion goes, all is well.

When it comes to Genya, I'm told he's been
sent on a solo  mission. Shinobu, too, has gone on
a mission, and I have faith that both our
younger siblings will return safely.  It's been
quieter on the front, so I trust they  won't get into
any trouble, though I  pray all the same for them.

Master has been worried about the recent decrease
in demon activity. It all seems to have vanished after
the  Moons assisted us in the field. He worries Muzan's
planning something, so stay safe.

If this decrease in demonic activity leaves you bored,
you're always welcome to stop by. Both I and your
crow will be waiting on your return.

Safe travels,

Your Kanae

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Kanae,

I know the new bird was your idea.
Please send my old one when you
inevitably write me.

I will not return anytime soon. 

"See," Kanae smiled at the moon-lit crow smugly. "I told you it wouldn't take long. What did I say? A month a most? And look, it's only been a week and he's asking for you back."

Sanemi's crow, Nezu, was their name, apparently, ruffled its feathers again and nodded.

"And even more progress," Kanae smiled as she waved the paper around the still night air. "He may not be coming over, but he didn't insult anyone -"

The bird pecked at the paper and pulled it over so that Kanae might see the message on the back that rebuked her too well.

Also, be wary. If anyone's planning
anything, it's those Moons.
Please be safe.

Sanemi

"Well... at least he signed his name... and said please," Kanae sighed half-heartedly as she folded up the paper and held her head in one of her hands. 

The crow stared at her... she could almost hear the sigh there, and it sounded just like Shinobu's scorn.

She reached for another piece of paper and her quill.

My dear Sanemi,

I know you're not pleased with how
things have turned out. I know you're
angry, but I truly think that if you took  the
time to understand these demons  you
wouldn't be so prejudiced.

Gyutaro's gone on a mission, this time
with Mitsuri and Iguro. I doubt that will
go smoothly given Gyutaro and Iguro's
personalities but who can know for sure.

Daki's headed off with Giyu, and I'm sure
that will be an interesting match.
I would recommend Akaza if you were to
take a demon along with you; he matches
your energy and vindictiveness. You may
even grow to like him, though knowing
you,  it's doubtful.

I can't make you forgive these demons.
I can't make you face Genya so that he
may know that you don't hate him.
I  can't make you rest. But I'll urge you  to
anyway.

Kanae was about to start another paragraph when she heard the distinct sound of running. It was the middle of the night - who would be running!?

"Kanae! Kanae!" Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi came rushing down the hall right as Kanae stood up.

"What's wrong!?" she demanded as she took in the girl's state. They looked like they had just woken up and were worried out of their minds.

"It's Daki!" Sumi cried.

"Someone's hurt!" Naho explained.

"Come quick!" Kiyo begged.

Kanae needed nothing else and took off the way they had come, towards the medical wing. You always knew it was bad when you smelled the injury before you saw it. She raced into a room and found Daki panting, tears in her eyes, her ribbons patterned with slayers and stinking of blood that wasn't her own.

"Daki?" Kanae asked.

"They're all about to die - it was the only thing I could think of!" Daki cried shrilly, tears in her eyes as she took a step back defensively.

Kanae understood immediately.

She was afraid of punishment. She'd caught humans in her ribbons, freezing them in some sort of stasis to keep them alive... and she was afraid she'd done something wrong. She'd saved lives on her mission, and she was afraid she'd done it wrong.

Kanae immediately raised her open hands and nodded encouragingly.

"Alright, good thinking," she praised. "Can you let them out one at a time?"

Daki nodded slowly, laying one of her ribbons on a hospital bed and tensing it. The first slayer emerged from its fabric, immediately wheezing for help and crying in pain. Kanae was there within the moment, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho all by her side.

They tried to stem the bleeding, tried to ease the pain. Daki stood behind them, unable to flee but unable to watch, salivating and biting her lip.

The first slayer was not in too bad a shape; Kanae had seen worse. He had a broken leg. The bone had been splintered and the limb jerked around to a point where she could easily see bone. He bled and he screamed, but he would live.

She looked to Daki once she had the first one stabilized and nodded.

The next one was laid on the bed, and the first thing she did was scream in agony.

They went one by one in excruciating, terrible, clockwork. Some were worse off, and some just let themselves sound like they were dying.

It wasn't until halfway in that they got their first, true, time-is-of-the-essence wound.

The young man had a large wound on his torso, and as soon as he left the safe stasis of Daki's ribbons, he began bleeding out. The bed was colored crimson in seconds, it dripped onto the floor, it covered Kanae's hands as she tried to stem i,t and yelled for Sumi to grab more stitches and gauze. It was everywhere.

She didn't have anything large or thick enough to stem the bleeding, and the boy was already fading; his wheezes grew softer, his heartbeat slower.

Someone next to them was screaming in his bed, but Kanae had long drowned out any other cries of pain. No one else was as important as this boy dying in front of her, so she tried to press harder.

There was a ribbon. Quick, brutal, but soft. It wrapped around the boy's torso and squeezed. He screamed in pain, but the bleeding slowed.

Kanae looked over at Daki, shocked... and Daki looked just as surprised. She had a hand over her mouth to hide her salivation, but the emotion in her eyes was pure and true...

She was worried.

"Please - please save him!" Finally the screaming from the cot behind Kanae pierced through her mind as she glanced back at the boy behind her. He sat with a broken spine and a broken voice. "Please save my brother," he sobbed.

Oh, and did it make sense then, as Kanae looked from the dying boy to Daki and back at the boy's brother. Siblings were a soft spot that both the hashira and demon shared.

"Keep holding it there," she instructed Daki firmly as she wiped her hands and grabbed the stitch kit she would need.

Would this work? Who knew - but it was worth a shot. The boy was missing an entire part of his torso. She could try and salvage the organs, but it would be hard keeping them in place...

It was arduous and far too long. Too many times did the boy's breathing slow, and Kanae feared they would lose him. But Daki would rearrange her ribbons with a squeeze as requested, the boy would whimper... and that would be enough.

She saved what she could of the organs... but she had no other idea for the rest of him. How could she lock all the blood and the organs inside?

She stared at the ribbons.

"Daki... could I stitch part of your ribbon to him?" she asked sharply.

"What?" Daki demanded.

"It might save him - "

"Of course!" Daki cried angrily. There wasn't a moment of hesitation, just annoyance that Kanae had taken so long. Even Daki looked surprised at her own outburst.

They stared at each other for a moment too long...

"Save him..." the brother pleaded, now too drugged to be lucid but too much in pain to fall asleep.

The spell broke, and Kanae set to work. The ribbons were hard to pierce, but Daki tensed them to make it easier. Soon enough, there was a large patch on the boy's side that would allow the skin to grow back under it and would dissolve in the sun when he was ready...

It was crazy, it could go terribly, but the boy wasn't dead.

Kanae looked back at Daki and saw she was trembling... though no longer drooling.

"How many more?" Kanae asked sharply.

"Two," Daki answered.

"Good."

These demons are doing things that amaze me
every day. It seems they only grow more and more
human every day. I have seen compassion, empathy,
pain - things I thought demons forgot when they
turned.  But these demons are remembering,
Sanemi. They're  remembering, learning, and forgiving.

Just today, Daki  saved eight slayers.
Giyu and her found a demon that  had been
hoarding injured slayers to eat later. 
She thought fast and gave them enough time to
get  to me while Giyu fought the demon.

She didn't hesitate, she only acted in their interest
and because of it, I've seen the firmest proof I will
ever need to stand by their side. I have seen how
these demons feel others' pain. I feel it too.

We all feel it.  The pain of someone who's lost
something they'll  never get back. They're
like us, they're more like us than anyone
will admit.

I hope you ponder it all, Sanemi. I hope you learn
as they have.

And I hope to see you soon. I do miss you.

Your Kanae

Chapter Text

Gyutaro groaned as he was subject to yet another, and thankfully, the final hug bestowed on him by the Love Pillar. By hug, of course, he meant a bone-crushing embrace that would kill a lesser being. She hadn't ceased trapping him in such embraces for the entire trip at seemingly random intervals. Where did she hide that much strength in that little frame?

"Thank you so much for all the help, Gyu-chan!" the girl grinned as she lifted him off the ground despite his struggle. Didn't she know he could (and was almost willing) to kill her here and now for this blatant breach of his damn personal bubble?

Hashira or not, even if she was incredibly strong, flexible, friendly, bubbly, sweet, and kind - if it came to a fight, he would win... probably...

He very suddenly didn't want to think about this splash of pink smiles and sweetness stained in blood, so he very simply didn't. It was getting easier to stop imagining things like that.

"You're welcome," was all he grit out instead, and she put him back down lightly.

"We should do another mission again sometime!" Mitsuri laughed joyfully. "Except next time you won't be all 'meh' and 'grrr', and we can 'swoosh', 'shing', 'baaam' all the demons quicker!"

Five days had unfortunately gotten Gyutaro used to this foreign language of onomatopoeia that the Love Hashira used too frequently. It had irked him at first, but to the same level as Inosuke's constant bickering or Daki's whining.

"Sure, man, you know where to find me," Gyutaro shrugged as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the Butterfly Mansion.

Mitsuri clapped her hands eagerly, hopping up and down as she went back to Iguro's side.

Ah... Iguro. Obanai to Misturi, but Gyutaro didn't think they were on a first-name basis just yet. Hell, they'd never be on a first-name basis if the snake guy got his way. Gyutaro was very okay with that.

Their relationship had been... rocky... at best. It started with a staring contest that only intensified whenever Mitsuri got remotely close to Gyutaro. But clearly, the hashira didn't completely despise him because the snake-boy had covered Gyutaro's back when one of the many demons they'd run into tried to attack his blind spot.

It really wouldn't have been a big deal if the demon had struck; Gyutaro's regeneration skills far surpassed any lower demon, but Iguro jumped in to help regardless. Now, the ex-Upper Moon wasn't willing to say he was grateful, but it made imagining the guy roasted over a spit feel a little uncalled for. He'd claimed he had just 'used Gyutaro as a distraction', but Mitsuri didn't buy it, and Gyutaro didn't either. Now, that didn't mean he believed Mitsuri when she said the guy liked him - there was way too much murderous intent in that gaze to insinuate otherwise. But the guy didn't let him get stabbed in the back. So that was something.

Oh well, who the hell knew what the human was thinking? What any human was thinking... ever. Snake-boy was at least better than Mr. I-have-three-wives-what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it Hashira.

Yeah, he hated that guy. Never again.

"Stay behaved, demon," Iguro muttered in what was probably a threat. His ever-present snake was resting on his shoulder and opened one of her eyes lazily before closing them and falling back to sleep. She at least liked him - Gyutaro could vibe with the snake, and that was the only thing helping his case when it came to Iguro.

Gyutaro only chuckled arrogantly, tilting his head to sneer at the hashira.

"Sure thing, snake-man. Watch your back," he snickered.

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence, Iguro glaring from under his bangs, Gyutaro doing the same. Mitsuri let this go on for a few seconds before sighing and grabbing Iguro by his arm.

"See you later, Gyu-chan! Say hi to everyone for us! Tell Shinobu-chan and Kanae-chan that I love them!" The Love Pillar dragged the Snake Pillar away, Iguro's eyes never breaking their contact with Gyutaro's until they were turning a corner and leaving Gyutaro alone a few feet away from the Mansion.

He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and simply settled on the fact that all demon slayers were weird. Very, very weird. There wasn't a normal one among them so, of course, Inosuke had fit right in. Hell, even he, the hideous, violent misfit from the red light district, fit in somehow... at least according to Mitsuri.

Slipping through the gate, he couldn't help but smile to himself a bit as he waltzed through the garden and slipped into their wing. That's right, their home. They had a wing, a room, a territory, something to call their own, and who gave a fuck if it belonged to some flower hashira? It was theirs. It wasn't the Red Light District, hardly comparable in size, but that wasn't a bad thing... It wasn't a bad place...

He walked down the hallway and snickered to see Miku sprawled on the floor, snoring away like a thunderstorm. He crept a bit further towards the candlelight, leaning on the open doorframe to Douma and Kotoha's room.

They were sitting on the floor, reading quietly, and as soon as Gyutaro stepped in, they smiled.

"You're back early," Douma observed warmly.

"How was it?" Kotoha beckoned as she stood up and softly demanded a hug with her open arms.

Goddammit, Gyutaro had to give in. He hugged her before pulling away and giving a shrug.

"Eh, it was boring. We ran into a group of demons off to the east - it was weird to see so many grouping together, but I didn't get much info out of them," Gyutaro explained. "It was nice to snack on a few, though - "

"And the hashira? How did it go with the Snake and Love pillar?" Douma encouraged wryly. "Better than the last, I hope?"

Okay, for the record, he'd been behaved with the Sound Pillar. No one believed him, but he had used every possible ounce of control at his disposal to keep from mucking it up for Daki and the rest. He only threatened to eat the guy like... twice, but no one appreciated the effort he put in.

"Ehhhhh," Gyutaro managed instead of saying all that. "I think Mitsuri likes everyone, and I think Snake-man hates everyone."

"You two should get along great then," Douma chuckled to himself as he turned a page.

"Ha-ha, shut up," Gyutaro muttered dryly. "You're dull as always. Anything happen while I was gone?"

"No," Douma denied. "Inosuke went off on a mission with Zenitsu; I'm told it's a minor problem, maybe not even a demon, so I didn't accompany him. Miku's been sleeping for two days now, so it's been too quiet, but I think she'll wake up soon. Akaza got back from his mission last night... and... I think that's it..."

He looked to Kotoha, and she nodded.

"Yeah... It's been quiet here. Daki got back maybe three days ago, and she had a bit of excitement from the sound of it. She saved a lot of people, and we're all rather proud of her - she wanted to tell you about it, so I'll leave it to her. Other than that... It's just been quiet." She smiled as she patted Gyutaro's shoulder and went back to her seat. "I'm glad your mission went well."

"Good. Speaking of Daki, I have to go tell her I'm back. G'Night," Gyutaro dismissed himself and waltzed out before either could ask any more questions. He made his way to his room and slid the door open softly.

Daki was, unsurprisingly, fixing her hair. She immediately froze, whirling around and grinning when she saw him.

"Gyutaro!" she grinned as she jumped to her feet, abandoned her half-braided hair, and leaped into his hug. "You're back!"

"Ey! You miss me?" Gyutaro laughed as he hugged her back.

Separation was a difficult concept. The first time Daki went out on a solo mission, he'd been admittedly a wreck. Maybe that had something to do with the miserable time he had with the Sound hashira, but it had also been... enlightening? That felt like a good word. He and Daki hadn't been separated in nearly over a century - not really. They'd always been a quick sprint from each other, at least. Then Douma had asked Daki to trail Inosuke and ohhhh he'd hated that. All of that. But he'd gotten better. They'd gotten better. 

Was it strange? That he was starting to be alright with a quieter mind - without Daki's thoughts constantly accompanying his own. That it was somewhat nice to be able to be apart, knowing they'd reunite like this?

"Oh! So much has happened! You missed everything!  I went on a mission with the Water Pillar, and we found all these demons! I killed them all, right, because I'm strong and all - and that hashira, Giyu, he's great, really quiet though - "

Gyutaro nodded intensely as he tried to keep up with Daki's ramblings. It was strangely wonderful to see her so energized. The two of them sat down as she continued, almost bouncing in joy as she explained it all. He settled with his own thoughts and let out a long breath as he threw his feet up.

"And he told me I did great, and I was like 'of course I did great, who do you think I am?' and then there was another demon, but I sensed it first, so we went up the mountain - "

When was the last time she had been so eager and proud? Gyutaro leaned back and searched his mind for such a memory as Daki rambled on about the demon who was trapping slayers and stowing them to save for later.

"And I'm like: this guy must be super weak if he can't eat all these guys at once, and he was, but there were a bunch of slayers and they were all wrapped in this goo - it was super gross actually. So Giyu was all: 'help the humans, ' but, like, what was I supposed to do? If I took them from the goo, they would bleed out, and then I had this great idea, and Kanae-san even told me it was a good idea. So anyway, I had this idea and I looked at Giyu and was like; I have an idea -"

If Gyutaro thought hard enough, the last time Daki had been this excited had been when they first became Upper Moons. Muzan had praised Daki for her brilliance, for her brutality, and Daki had looked over to Gyutaro from where they knelt, eye gleaming, smile beaming, her very being vibrating in pride. Even that had been a strange, dark, and mature pride, a vindictive pride in her own power and anger.

This... this was childlike pride. Innocent pride... the type that couldn't be translated into words behind a smile that was incomparable to anything Gyutaro had seen. No... wait... he had seen it. Where had he seen it before? When had she been like this?

"And then... I - I... Gyutaro... I..." Her voice began breaking, and Gyutaro jumped out of his mind to see what he was hearing.

She was crying.

"Hey! Hey, what happened? What are you crying for? What did that Water Pillar do? Did something happen - " He was compiling a very quick list of how to make a water hashira disappear off the face of the planet without arousing immediate suspicion.

"No - no they're happy tears," Daki managed as she rubbed her eyes and laughed weakly. "I... I saved someone. A - A lot of someones!"

Her ribbons were swaying calmly, so calmly that it was so clear she was happy - but Gyutaro had never seen her with such an expression in her eyes. They were both sitting, but he moved in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders as she sniffled, wiping her eyes and grinning.

"What do you mean? What happened?" Gyutaro asked.

"There - there were all these demon slayers in the goo. They were going to be eaten later, I think... and they were dying. I just... I just acted. I just did it. I wasn't sure if it would work and I couldn't ask, but I had to do something, and... my ribbons..." she grabbed one of them and held it gently in her claws, a smile on her face.

"What about your ribbons?" Gyutaro probed, leaning in and grabbing her hand. She gripped it back.

"I saved people with them, Gyutaro," she was smiling so wide that Gyutaro thought she might combust. "I... I've never done anything like that in my life... I've never saved someone - "

"We have - " Gyutaro began to argue.

"Not like that," she denied. "There was no reason to save the slayers. I could've just left them and helped Giyu kill the demon, but I just felt like I should, and I did. I didn't... I didn't even think. These... these ribbons; I've used these ribbons to hurt so many people, and they saved those slayers. I didn't even know they could... oh, and I patched wounds with them! I stemmed the bleeding, I kept the humans alive long enough to get them to Kanae-san, and it was... wonderful. It was so nice; they smiled at me..."

She was crying again, still smiling, but crying as she held her ribbons.

Gyutaro managed a wry smile, but something in him warmed to see her so... innocent. The smile on her face was a youthful smile he hadn't seen on his sister's face in a while.

Muzan had once called her impressionable, and that was true. Just a few years among the moral and Daki was crying about saving people, just a few years among the blessed, and Daki was as sweet as Ume had once been. A few years with people better than him... and she was infinitely kinder than he ever could be...

"Did you like it?" Gyutaro smiled weakly.

"I did - I really did," Daki nodded. She then seemed to come to her senses and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I know you just got back and everything - but I really needed to tell you and I was so excited and - "

Gyutaro wrapped her in his arms and felt something that sat tight in his chest release after centuries of pain... and guilt he could now recognize. He had missed this side of his sister - and he was ashamed to say he had forgotten it. He missed the side of his sister, the kid who would cry in shock when she found an injured bird on their doorstep. This side of his sister would beam at the sight of someone being proposed to in the street. This side would urge her to hug Gyutaro after a long day.

The side of her that always had been good.

Daki was doing good. Daki was good again. His little sister was crying for others...

"Gyutaro?" she asked from within the embrace. "What happened? Did the mission not go well?"

"No," Gyutaro laughed at the warm, muffled questioning. "No, it went great. I just missed you..."

And he had. He really had.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"Yes! That's the way Kamado!" Kyojuro praised as Tanjiro's feet finally found their positions and his sword flew, splitting the wooden dummy apart, a thin line sending its torso off its waist. The boy had leaned too far into the swing, as was usual with water-breathers who were used to constantly moving and shifting their center of balance - but the boy adjusted his position quick enough, centered himself, and used his weight to further the swing.

It was a clever hybrid of the two styles, and he likely wasn't doing it purposefully.

The boy straightened up and grinned; "It feels a lot stronger - very similar to the Hinokami Kagura - but less raw..."

"Who knows!" Kyojuro laughed. He didn't - and based on the state of his ancestors' Flame journals, they'd never know. He would never hate his father, but there was always a simmering pain to know that it had only taken one lost man to destroy centuries of their family's life. "But for now, you seem to be catching on quick!"

There was a splintering of wood, and Kyojuro smiled broadly, knowing exactly who it was. Inosuke's swords had decimated his target, his body in the air to push weight in his stee,l but his posture was familiar - he too was applying stances and blending them with his own inventive breathing style. Granted, it took Kyojuro's trained eye to recognize any hint of Flame breathing in his movements, but they were there. Who knew what Inosuke had pulled from when creating a style completely on his own (which was a feat in itself), but it seemed to have the same ferocity that Flame focused on.

The only one who hadn't incorporated any changes into his style was Zenitsu, but the boy was still present, going through the exercises and smiling at his comrade's success. The blond wasn't suited for Flame breathing; his style relied on quick, sudden movements, precision as finite as you could get it. Flame was similar to water in its rhythm, though where water breathing taught reversal of energy, especially when facing a stronger opponent, Flame focused on fluctuating strength; on keeping your own flame and strength constant and careful until your opponent faltered. 

Zenitsu simply was suited to a technique as raw as Flame breathing that cared for speed and precision over strength and ferocity, but that didn't mean he stopped improving.

The boys were growing. Tanjiro was adding more to his repertoire, refining his Hinokami Kagura (Sun breathing... the only thing Kyojuro had gleaned from his father was the name; Sun breathing), and now he had mastery over water breathing along with the basics of Flame. Inosuke's ferocity and raw style were being refined by the intricacies of Flame Breathing; he was more conscious of his balance, of his footing, and while he still fought like a wild animal, there was an intelligence in his attacks that was undeniable. Zenitsu's physical strength had grown exponentially, and while his confidence still needed work, his hands no longer trembled when reaching for a sword. He could decapitate lower-level demons (while conscious) without so much as a shriek from his lips (though one may follow afterward).

Kyojuro was quite proud of them. They were progressing wonderfully as tsugukos.

"Hey! You guys better pick this mess up!" Kyojuro smiled and turned as Aoi walked past the garden with a bin full of linens. "You left a mess of splinters the other day!" the girl ordered sharply.

"Absolutely, Aoi!" Tanjiro agreed firmly. 

"We will clean up to our very best abilities!" Kyojuro announced loudly, and Aoi sighed with a roll of her eyes that was reminiscent of one of Shinobu's expressions. She walked away, and Kyojuro turned to the three. "You heard her, let's clean!"

"I'm gonna get the most!" Inosuke immediately challenged, diving for Tanjiro's splintered dummy, hoisting it over his head, and running to discard it in the woodpile.

"Hey - hey! Not everything's a competition!" Zenitsu cried, picking up an armful of his own fallen targets and taking chase. Tanjiro smiled as he too followed with his own handful. 

Kyojuro went to pick up some remnants himself when he heard Kanae's gentle footsteps make their way from the mansion to his side.

"Kyo," she greeted warmly, as always.

"Kanae!" he grinned as he straightened up. "Do not worry - this garden will be clean before we leave it!"

"Oh, don't worry about that, the training garden should have some evidence of a mess. That's how I know it's well-loved," she laughed, gazing towards the corner where the boys had disappeared. "I take it training is going well?"

"Very well!" Kyojuro grinned. "They take to self-improvement like a fish takes to water!"

"Wonderful, that's wonderful!" Kanae smiled. She looked up to the afternoon sky and grinned. "Though it seems your training has an audience."

"What?" Kyojuro asked, following her gaze up to the tree that sat between them and the sun. It only took a moment of searching through its branches to see who Kanae was referring to; it was Miku.

She squeaked when she met Kyojuro's eyes and quickly slipped out of the branches, landing with a hard thud on the ground and looking nervously at the hashira.

"I'm sorry!" she cried loudly, not quite apologetically, just loudly. "I didn't mean to spy or anything! I promise!"

Kanae was laughing again while Kyojuro was quickly contemplating why on earth he hadn't sensed the child; was he so complacent and comfortable here that he hadn't been alert? That was dangerous - 

"Did you like watching?" Kanae asked sweetly.

"Yes!" Miku cried eagerly. "It's so cool to see Nii-chan use his swords! Everyone's so cool and strong! I want to do it someday!"

"Oh, my," Kanae murmured with a grin. "That would be quite dangerous - "

"If Inosuke can do it, I definitely can!" she stated proudly, pointing at herself. "I've never, ever broken a bone - Inosuke's done it nine times!" 

"She makes a good point," Kanae murmured to Kyojuro with a playful smile. 

"Please!" Suddenly, Miku had come closer to both of them. "Please teach me how to slay demons! I learn quick - and I'm already pretty strong!"

"I cannot do anything of the sort unless your parents allow it," Kyojuro stated firmly. It would also have to be run by the master; teaching Mirakuru breathing techniques and sending her off to fight demons would be a terrible risk should anything happen to her.

Muzan would stop at nothing to snatch her away.

"I would be happy to teach you!" Kanae grinned. 

"Kanae - " Kyojuro began in shock. This needed to be considered carefully - there needed to be a layer of discretion and care! And parental consent!

"Oh, just a little training in the garden. Just the basics. We'll see if flower or insect breathing clicks with you, and if not, I can talk to the other hashiras and see what might suit you best." Kanae waved Kyojuro off as she smiled at the girl.

"Really!?" Miku demanded in pure, juvenile excitement.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Kanae smiled. "I'm sure Shinobu would be happy to help, too!"

There was no arguing with Kanae when she got like this, and doubtlessly, she would forge forward without hesitation, despite what Kotoha, Douma, or Kagaya said. She'd always been like that; spontaneous and instinctive. If it was a good idea at the moment, then it was a good idea. Though Kyojuro could give credit where credit was due, Kanae's ideas were usually exemplary, and her fearlessness was impressive. 

There was a reason that even Sanemi bent under her unbendable will. She was certain of her path, no matter whose opinions it crossed with. Maybe that was why she took to Tanjiro so fondly - that same stubborn resolve.

"Can I get a sword!?" Miku cried eagerly, now nearly jumping with excitement. 

"Maybe not quite yet... let's go see what training swords we have and I'll start teaching you some footwork," Kanae offered, leading the girl back towards the house. "We'll also have to run it by your mother, but I'm sure she'll allow it."

Kyojuro was not so sure about that, but that was a problem left for Kanae. The boys were returning. Still, he watched as Kanae and Miku disappeared into the mansion and sighed with a smile.

There was no stopping such a force of nature. Idly, Kyojuro wondered if Akaza would be returning from his mission soon so that he could ask the demon what he thought of Miku's slayer desires. It did bring a wry smile to his face, because he was certain he could guess what it'd be.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

No failure. No failure.

Mukago's fear was so thick she was sure everything in a ten-mile radius could smell it. That was okay, though... her fear was her strength. Her cowardice would be her greatest success - Muzan's words, not hers.

Lower Four. She had only been Lower Four! After Muzan had eliminated the unloyal and problematic Lower Moons, he'd refused to change the remainder's rankings, demanding they work up to such a level. Mukago had devoured humans like she never had before, desperate for his approval...

Desperate to continue living. She'd seen the other three lower moons fall like they had been ants beneath the heel of a man. Sometimes she could still feel Lower Two's blood splattering on her face as Muzan cleansed the ranks.

She'd sworn that she would avoid a fate like that.

Then Rui died. Damn him - damn him to hell and back, the boy's failure had turned the devil's eyes on them once again. Muzan had summoned the two sole Lower Moons and hissed that they both had one more chance. Lower One, Enmu had been filled with blood, and with the way he had screamed and thrashed like a fish, Mukago had feared for her life. If she came next, she would die - surely, she would absolutely die.

"I need subordinates who will be of use to me," Muzan's voice resonated in her mind again and again.

She trembled as she raced through the trees, feeling his disappointment radiate through her being. She had only been spared that day because she was of use, and if she continued to be of use, she would continue to live.

Unlike Enmu...

"Lower One has also failed me, miserably," she hated to remember the unsaid threat in the way he had held her face. "So why should I keep you around if you are even less promising than him?"

She had begged. She was doing what he bade of her. She had grown stronger; she would grow stronger still!

She bounced silently to a bough of a thick tree and stared down at the collection of slayers that were to be her prey. She flexed her hands and elongated her nails as she began to manipulate the space around her fingers. She would be of use.

"I no longer care if you can rise up the ranks," he had told her, his crimson eyes boring a hole right into her existence. "The worst of possibilities for demonkind is being faced at this exact moment. Traitors walk with our enemies and slay your kin before they have time to taste their second meal. If you want to prove yourself to be of any worth, you'll do exactly as I say."

Of course! Of course! She would do just as he commanded! Anything! Anything! Just let her survive!! And he had smiled wickedly at that.

But she must focus - stay in the moment. Swallow that fear to fuel the void of terror in her stomach. Become one with that fear!

She pounced, fixing on points of each of the four slayers beneath her, unaware of her approach. Like the pop of a bubble, four spaces erupted in chaos and violence. Like a vacuum, the small bubbles took a portion of the slayers. One lost her arm, two lost their legs, and one's waist went, his sword with it - the swordless one would serve as the other three's first taste of power. What use was a creation if it didn't have its sword?

Mukago descended and raced quickly to the one missing her arm, pinning that one down by her throat. Quickly, she threw bubbles over the other three's heads, silencing their screams and making it easy to kill them if they tried to interrupt. They thrashed and screamed helplessly, which only made them seem even more pathetic... they acted terrified, but what did they know of true fear? What in this world could they possibly see that would instill more terror than those red eyes...

"You flee at the first sight of hashira, there is no way you can do what I need you to do," he had scorned.

She had begged. She had groveled because it was true; she'd do anything to live, even something as dangerous as this. Give her time. Give her time.

He'd hummed at that... he'd considered it. He knew her mind. He knew that she was willing - he had to!! She had been sobbing through her pleas, but all he had done was lean closer, his fangs glinting with malice.

"If I give you the means and the time to do what must be done, would you do it?" he had challenged. "Would you risk facing demon slayers daily for my greater purpose?"

Of course! Of course! Anything was better than that awful place of a fortress, that awful terror that was so unlike anything else she could experience. There was the fear of death, and then there was Muzan Kibutsuji. One was not even comparable to the other.

She looked at the slayer pinned beneath her and raked her claws down her own arm until demonic blood came bubbling forth and the girl beneath her began to plead and scream. Mukago ignored her; such screams were incomparable to her own that had spilled when Muzan had gifted her blood.

It was lucky she had grown so much stronger, or she wouldn't have survived that much of Master's blood back when the Moons had first been culled. But she had! She had and now she did his bidding far more successfully than any of her successors! She would! She had to!

Her blood dribbled onto the slayer beneath her, sizzling as they made contact with open wounds. Screams turned to gurgles, and those gurgles turned to snarls soon enough. Mukago stepped up and back from her creation, studying it with passive disappointment; was this how Muzan saw her? So weak and primal; so insignificant?

She looked down at her new creation, and it looked up at her, not knowing, but understanding instantly what the kanji in both her eyes meant.

"Will you do what must be done, Mukago? Will you accomplish what even my highest-ranking demon could not?" Muzan had held a tone that Mukago hadn't understood, but she didn't care.

She would! She would!

There was no other choice! She studied the demon at her feet and turned to the others; there was no other choice. She blinked, relishing the way the kanji sat in her eyes; Upper Six. 

The newly turned demon growled as it saw the humans, frothing and trembling as it waited for permission from its master to eat. Mukago stilled it with a gesture of her hand and crouched down to change the next human into something more useful.

She would be more powerful than her successors. She would not falter. She would be of use. She would not die. She'd grown too powerful to die now.

Chapter Text

Breathing is hard! Miku never thought it could be so hard! She thought she was good at it. She could beat Inosuke in all of their breath-holding challenges. Papa always pointed out that it was because she didn't need to breathe as frequently as he did, but she was still good at breathing.

This was hard. She had to remember to breathe all the time, and she had to breathe a certain way. It was - it was just hard!

It was also amazing. Kanae moved so gracefully as she swung her sword in the garden, like a petal in the wind. Miku tried, she really did. She followed the footwork and swung her own wooden sword. She had the strength and endurance to start right away, but her lungs didn't like the rhythm of the light total-focus breathing. She could mirror the balance and the movements, but they never had the clean precision or grace that Kanae had.

"You're doing great!" the kind hashira would praise, and Miku would try to smile. She didn't feel great. It felt... weird. Maybe that's because it was still new, but it just felt wrong, like she was trying to dance with an extra leg, and always out of breath when she did so.

She didn't know, so she went to Mom, because Mom knew everything.

"You should tell Kanae it feels awkward," Kotoha smiled as she poked a syringe into a cup of concentrated wisteria. It made Miku's nose burn, but she watched her mother work regardless. She was working hard, making all sorts of strange things as she wrote notes in her journal. Sometimes she made poisons for the bad demons, sometimes she made antidotes for demonic poisons.

She'd spent a whole day with Gyutaro studying his scythes - he complained that he could still smell the wisteria, but she'd come away with a 'formula' that was super helpful against bad demons' poisons. She would explain it sometimes, but Miku found the explanations wayyyy more boring than watching the actual stuff happen. She didn't really need to understand it anyway.

"If you don't feel comfortable with the form, perhaps you should ask Kanae about others. Aoi was telling me about breathing styles and their many different techniques. You may be better suited for something else," Kotoha smiled as she pulled over a petri dish of Papa's blood and injected the wisteria concentrate into it.

"But... what if she stops training me?" Miku objected, peering into the dish. "What if I don't get to train anymore?"

The red pool flinched at the touch, contorting and rotting for a moment before the blood calmed and the red color returned. Kotoha leaned back with a sigh, putting the syringe down and pulling the thin gloves off her hands.

She turned to Miku and smiled softly.

"I don't think she'd ever be upset at you for telling the truth. And, even if she was, I'm sure we'd find someone else who'd help if you still wanted to so desperately."

Miku stood there self-consciously, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Oh, Miku," Kotoha stood and swept up her daughter in a hug, pulling her into her lap with a small laugh. "No one's perfect at anything when they first start. Do you know how many times your brother came home with a busted nose when he first started training?"

"But - but I want to be good at it!" Miky objected. "I want to be strong and good at it - so that I can help!"

"You help," Kotoha soothed as they separated from the hug. "You're so much help -"

"But I want to be able to protect everyone! I want to be awesome quick! Or Inosuke will always be better than me!"

To that, her Mama laughed. "You can't rush these things. It takes time; you'll get there, I'm sure of it. My next fierce little demon slayer. Mirakuru; the hashira."

Miku brightened at the sound of that. 

Mirakuru, the hashira. Yes... Yes! That sounded perfect! Maybe if she worked hard enough, she could beat Inosuke to the top - HA! He'd be so mad it would be awesome!!

"Miku!" Sumi ran to the doorway, bouncing up and down excitedly, and Miku felt herself grin. All the people here were so nice - Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho were her friends. She'd never really had those before (Daki said that animals didn't count). She was still trying to be a good one, better than Inosuke had been with his boar-friends.

"What?" she asked eagerly. Was it a game?

"Want to play tag? Aoi has some free time and agreed to play with us!" the butterfly girl beamed.

Aoi! Oh, she was always busy, so this was special. Miku wiggled down, giving a quick hug to Kotoha before racing off after Sumi. Maybe they could even get Kanao to join in (but she always won, so maybe not).

"Let's go! Bye, Mom!" she cried over her shoulder as she sprinted after Sumi. She was the fastest of the two, but she slowed her pace to keep in time with the girl. She heard Kotoha laugh after her, and she smiled. Kotoha never said no to her playing.

It always felt like they had time to play nowadays. Even if Daki and Gyutaro and Akaza and Inosuke spent more time away, fighting demons and all that, there was always time to play when they were home. They always had time to themselves.

They could do what they want, when they wanted. They didn't have to run anymore, and that was the best feeling in the world. She could put up with missing Gyutaro and the way he fixed her hair. She could put him with missing Daki and how they could wrestle even if her ribbons always ended up wrapping her in an inescapable cocoon (Inosuke was right, it was almost cheating). She could even put up with missing Akaza and their sparring days because whenever they came back, there was plenty of time to make up for it.

She continued practicing, too! She did it without Akaza when he was away, but that meant she got to do it sometimes with Inosuke and one of his friends, sometimes with Kanao, and sometimes all by herself. The most special of circumstances came when she couldn't sleep; Douma would come out and teach her a bit about how he fought with two weapons, one in each hand. He'd only let her hold his fans once, though, but that had felt right. She wanted her breathing to feel like that: right.

She started training with Shinobu the next day; maybe she'd feel better with insect breathing!

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Despite all initial fears, Douma felt happy. 

Miku had friends; she ran around the house with the three young girls of the estate, and he would hear them giggle or laugh from all corners of the mansion. Little Kiyo was soft-spoken and shy, but she'd presented Douma a cup of tea once that he'd gently taken from her trembling hands, and that seemed to be enough to earn her trust. Sumi was a bit harder to read; she was brasher than the other two, but cautious of all demons, other than Miku - Douma could respect that. Naho was the sweetest by far and held no reservations whatsoever, smiling and slayer and demon alike.

Granted, Miku was now learning how to swing a sword, but that came with merits. Though it scared the living hell out of him, he had to feel that warm glow of pride whenever Miku showed off for him. She was growing too quickly, wonderfully so.

If only she would stop giving him heart attacks when it came to her swordplay. Could she just live with using the wooden training swords instead of insisting on borrowing her brother's when he came over!? She was incredibly reckless, and he did not understand why his children failed to inherit a human's desire for safety.

Inosuke had friends too; he'd come home roaring triumphantly with laughter with his two fellow slayers at his side. Zenitsu was a coward, but a good-hearted one, and honestly, Douma was pleased there was at least someone in that trio who had a lick of common sense. Hell knew Tanjiro lacked self-preservation and was too kind-hearted for his own good, and Douma had told him such.

"I'm happy you think so," the boy had beamed. "I fear sometimes this life has changed me... not for the better."

It had been one of those rare nights when Nezuko was awake. On that moonlit evening, Mirakuru had taken it upon herself to show the older girl everything in the garden, where the crickets hid and the best hiding places, and the flowers that only bloomed under the moon. Nezuko was happy to follow, paying less attention to the girl's words and more humming along to her tone.

"I've never met a slayer as kindhearted as you," Douma had told the boy honestly as he watched the girls. And he didn't say such things lightly; he doubted that even Kotoha would be able to cry for a demon as Tanjiro did. It was a fault in the child's psyche, but not one Douma would demand he change. "Be careful with such a heart, Tanjiro."

The boy had only smiled: "You too, Douma."

Yes, the boy even used his name. How someone with so much pain could keep such a big heart, Douma would never know. Humans were still tragic things, but for very different reasons than he'd once thought. Regardless, both Zenitsu and Tanjiro were good for Inosuke. They kept an eye on him, they protected him, they reminded him to be afraid and to be kind... and they reminded him to write home - they were all good kids.

Kotoha laughed and pulled Douma out of his thoughts. She was reading Inosuke's most recent letter home, and it piqued his interest.

"What happened?" he asked with a smile at Kotoha's stifled giggling.

"Oh, nothing. He's just being Inosuke, bragging about himself again," Kotoha smiled. Douma felt warm at the sight of her beaming. Admittedly, she hadn't changed much since they found a home for themselves. The experience was more noticeably changing those like Daki and Akaza, who smiled more than ever.

But there was something about Kotoha that seemed ever so different. Maybe it was the renewed purpose she had thrown herself into, searching for a cure. It had started with poisons, different forms of wisteria concentrated, dried, crushed, whatever she could do to it to see just how effective it could be against demons. The middle Kocho girl, Shinobu, was eager to share a bit of knowledge with the woman, less so with Douma but that was understandable.

Still, Kotoha was convinced that there must be some way to purify demonic cells, not just destroy them. It was her new project, and when she wasn't reading Inosuke's letters or enjoying the time with her family, she was in the medicinal wing of the butterfly mansion, a scarf wrapped around her mouth to resist the fumes and a focused glint in her eye. Douma wouldn't lie; it was good to see her imbued with a purpose - a goal. It seemed to revitalize her in a way that Douma had never seen. She would rant about roadblocks in her research or simply about her work in general, and Douma could just lie there and watch that spark grow and grow. It was good to see her so excited.

"You're staring again." Kotoha's giggle pulled him out of his thoughts and over to where his love sat peeking from over Inosuke's letter.

Douma only smiled. "I can't help it. You're simply mesmerizing."

"That may be the cheesiest thing you've said to date," Kotoha laughed, putting the letter to the side and walking over to where he sat.

"I don't know, I'm sure I've had worse," Douma admitted with a grin as she took a seat by his side and leaned on his shoulder. "But it is true."

She only laughed and looked up at him. "Then I guess we both got lucky."

Naturally, they pressed together and shared a tender kiss that ended with them pressing their foreheads together and enjoying each other's presence. When their eyes did meet, they stared at each other for a moment until Kotoha's eyes flickered with an emotion Douma struggled to understand. He reached up to cup her face as she looked away.

"What's wrong?" he urged gently.

Kotoha only shook her head and let out a short breath; "It's nothing - "

"Kotoha," he pleaded.

"I have a feeling," she admitted softly, grabbing his hand gently and squeezing it. "I wish we could be like this forever, I wish I could just freeze time and feel like this forever."

"No, you don't," Douma denied gently. "Mortality is beautiful. Impermanence is beautiful. You are beautiful - "

Was this an aging thing? An appearance thing? A mortality thing? Sure, she wasn't in her twenties anymore, but all that showed were a few worry lines on her forehead and a wiser look in her eye.

"It's not that," Kotoha assured him fondly. "I've never had a problem with the idea of - well, of my mortality. I just... this - what we have here. I have this terrible feeling it won't last as long as I want it to."

She put a hand on his chest and looked up at him, her eyes full of something he didn't understand, and her words settling uneasily in his gut. He cupped her face again and relished the contact of his fingers on her warm skin, the sensation of her blood pulsing at her cheeks. They stared at each other, and he let the warmth he'd grown accustomed to chase away the doubt.

"Kotoha," he vowed. "I will not let anything happen."

Kotoha cut him off with a fond chuckle. "Oh, Douma, you can't control everything - and you should never promise something like that. This weight you put on your shoulders isn't fair, and will only hurt you if something happens."

"Nothing will happen." They had so much more than they once held. The hashira, three of the six Upper Moons, the protection of the estate, the favor of Master Ubuyashiki... 

"Things happen," Kotoha soothed. "People die, they grow old, they don't accomplish everything they want to."

"They get killed," went unsaid, but Douma probably thought it loudly enough for the both of them.

"All I'm saying is that I wish we could just last forever, right here," she smiled softly as she cupped his face back.

Douma took a long breath but managed a smile.

"I do too."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"So - Miku's learning to swordfight!?" Akaza laughed as he threw a punch. His self-control gained in the last few months was impressive, but as it crashed against Kyojuro's blade, it was clear the demon was only holding back so far as not to be lethal or break another training sword - not that he needed to worry too much about that, there were plenty of replacements, no matter how Aoi scolded them. Although they'd both have to be a little sheepish around the poor girl if they broke any more training equipment.

Funny enough, experience had taught Kyojuro that Akaza would not take it too far. But still, every sparring match should be treated like the real deal, so he slashed back with renewed vigor, the wooden sword heading for Akaza's neck.

Akaza's hand was there to deflect it, but it nearly buckled under the weight Kyojuro threw at him. Kyojuro couldn't help but smile - he, too, was gaining skills from these sparring matches. His strength and speed had been forced to improve to surpass Akaza, and right when it felt like the flame hashira could start going easy on the ex-Upper Moon, Akaza would stop holding something back, and Kyojuro would be had square one again. The demon's compass needle was an impressive ability that truly made the fight feel like an uphill battle. Of course, at square one, the hashira could still give the striped demon something to worry about. 

There was a resounding crack as he tore his blade away, fueling its speed and arcing it through Akaza's defenses and into the demon's ribs. He may have broken something there, but if Akaza felt pain, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled and grabbed Kyojuro's sword (which they had agreed many times was cheating since the real deal would slice off his fingers, but Akaza did it anyway).

"So I hear!" Kyojuro laughed as Akaza held his weapon hostage. "She's skilled, but hasn't found her breathing style yet!"

Akaza smirked. "Have you thrown your style in the ring? It may befit someone as hotheaded as her!"

He'd let his guard down. Kyojuro smiled, twisting his feet and ripping the sword out of Akaza's hands before trying to stab it back into the demon's stomach. Akaza attempted to sidestep, the blow glancing off his side as he raised a fist and threw it for Kyojuro's face. He knew well that while the blow wouldn't take his head off his shoulders (unless Akaza willed it), it would still hurt. Instinctively, he shifted so he could duck the blow.

He was open, but so was Akaza's stance. 

Akaza tried to throw another punch, this one angled downward to slam the flame hashira into the floor - typical. Kyojuro fixed his stance, bent his knees, straightened up, and tried to take out Akaza's knees.

Apparently, he too, was getting predictable because the demon halted his attack and hopped over the blow, landing a few feet away.

"You're getting repetitive, Kyojuro. That fighting spirit never lies," Akaza taunted, his grin always on his face. It lacked all malice, though, as the demon hopped up and down - not to warm himself up but in an attempt to release the excitement building in him.

"You too," Kyojuro chuckled, readying his stance in case the demon lunged. 

It seems Akaza wasn't in the mood to up the stakes. He stopped the faux warming up of his legs and smiled.

"Seriously, though - why haven't you tried to teach Miku?" Akaza asked. "I figured after dealing with Inosuke, Miku would be easy."

"I would have no qualms with it," Kyojuro admitted, lowering his training sword and shrugging. "The girl just hasn't come to me yet - and I'm not even sure if demons can learn breathing techniques."

Akaza hummed like he hadn't considered that. "So you don't think she can?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen the girl train," Kyojuro answered honestly. "And in all fairness, she is not fully a demon."

It was clear their battle had come to a close, with no clear winner, as usual, so he walked over to the familiar wall and hung up his wooden sword, his true one sitting patiently in the sheath on his hips. When he turned back, Akaza was frowning.

"What's wrong?" the hashira asked, feeling his brows furrow. What was with that expression? It was... sometimes tricky to try to interpret Akaza's few expressions.

"I'm just thinking," Akaza dismissed after a moment. "I never really considered whether or not demons could learn total concentration breathing - we don't need to breathe... but..."

"Miku is only half-demon; her struggle to grasp insect and flower breathing may simply be that she doesn't work well with those forms," Kyojuro tried to assure him. It was almost touching how concerned Akaza was for the little girl - then again, the intimidating demon never looked happier than when he was around the children.

"It's not that," Akaza explained. "I'm sure Miku could do anything if she put her mind to it."

To that, Kyojuro laughed warmly. "I'm sure you're right."

The two of them began walking towards the door, where the evening air welcomed them and the sound of crickets roared gently over the breeze. There was a full moon tonight, and it glared down at them in all its bright, brilliant glory. They stood in the doorway, and Kyojuro was still trying to make sense of the strange expression on Akaza's face.

"So then, what's troubling you?" he asked as he looked up at the same moon Akaza stared at.

"Upper One fights like a slayer," Akaza mused simply. "Before now, I never put much thought into it - but I don't know if he breathes. If so, was he born a demon from the body of a slayer, or did he teach it to himself?"

Kyojuro pondered that concept. "This is... Kokushibo, right?" he tried to recall.

Akaza laughed coldly, "Yeah, that one."

"He must be ancient then if you don't know his origin."

"I am not that old," Akaza snickered.

"You know that's not what I meant to insinuate," Kyojuro scoffed, a smile tickling his lips. "I just remembered you saying that you were well over a couple of centuries."

"Not well over... I think."

"Again, not what I meant to insinuate."

Akaza laughed, warmly this time, and Kyojuro smiled. At times like this, the demon looked startlingly human, with a complexity of feelings hidden in his strange eyes and a gentle grin on his face. It was nice, it was strange, but it was nice. To glimpse humanity in something so inhuman.

"Ah, maybe I'm just overthinking things," Akaza admitted after a moment.

"Like what?" These types of conversations were not rare, but for some reason, it never felt like they had enough of them. There was an idle curiosity in Kyojuro whenever Akaza mentioned his past or his future. Akaza seemed similarly intrigued whenever Kyojuro brought up Senjuro, or something similar. It was easy to discuss such things, somehow. Akaza's views contrasted starkly with Kyojuro's own... but no... so sharply. Rather, it was almost a welcome shift in perspective.

So these talks were... welcome.

"Well, Kokushibo is one of the only demons fully capable of killing other demons," the ex-upper Moon explained. "That's why he was almost never challenged. Losing to him meant death."

The thought began to sober the lightness in Akaza's eyes. "If that's a skill that can be learned, I haven't figured it out yet."

"You've tried?" It surprised Kyojuro a bit; he knew how much Akaza adhered to the ideal of empty-handed fighting.

"Once or twice, but the steel you slayers carry makes me feel like I'm going to be sick, and I can't remember the last time I breathed unconsciously," Akaza explained. "I discarded the idea... because what was taught to me is sacred and I never wanted to lose that part of me, even when I was a monster. Well... even when I acted as the monster that I am."

Sacred. Kyojuro watched Akaza's face carefully. An interesting word choice. Akaza hardly discussed his past, though it had been made known to Master Ubuyashiki and to Gyomei, who heard all. Kyojuro knew none of it, though there were things Akaza said, things he mentioned and that lent itself clues.

He hatred poisons, of all sorts, and that made his interactions with Shinobu strained. It's a coward's tool, he'd said, and he had listened silently to any counterpoints. He had learned martial arts as a human, remembering it as instinct as a demon.

Instinct...

"Perhaps demons cannot learn new styles," Kyojuro supposed. Akaza glanced at him inquisitively. Kyojuro looked back.

"All you know about fighting is what you learned as a human," Kyojuro continued. "You were born as a demon with the instincts granted to you from your time as a human. Perhaps it's as you say, and this... Kokushibo... this demon is a slayer-turned-demon from centuries ago. I am curious... why are you worrying about this? You've hated the idea of picking up a sword."

"I haven't hated it, it just doesn't appeal to me," Akaza murmured simply. "I'm just... I'm thinking about what may be useful to us and what may harm us."

"Learning a breathing style could be useful," the flame hashira offered.

"And demons capable of killing other demons could be ruinous," Akaza murmured. He shook his head and smiled. "Then again, if he truly wanted demons to be able to kill other demons, he would've been changing slayers on the spot. He's probably terrified at the thought of his own creations being the ones to kill him, though -"

"And I doubt the slayers would be so keen," Kyojuro murmured, steeling himself. "I know few slayers who would take becoming a demon over death."

Akaza laughed, not as warmly as before, almost ruefully. "No, Kyojuro. I sense you'd probably rather die than join my fate."

"It's not personal - "

"No, no! I understand... and I would agree," Akaza's voice was drifting, his mind elsewhere and his eyes flickering down to his hands... his wrists more precisely. The demon gripped the place where his blue stripes wrapped around his pale skin, and his jaw clenched. "The process itself is brutal, and slayer's constitution may be able to resist it long enough... you'd probably die before letting yourself be turned. He's not one to ask for permission, but..."

It probably shouldn't have been asked; he probably should've thought before he spoke, but there was such pain in Akaza's expression that he had to know.

"He didn't offer it to you, did he?" Kyojuro's voice was so soft he hardly heard it over the crickets. "You did not desire... this." 

Akaza balled up one of his fists and stared at it, leaving Kyojuro to fear he'd crossed a line.

"I... didn't fight it," Akaza murmured finally. "I gave in. I was weak... I wanted my life to end, and, in a way, I suppose I got what I wanted."

So much... pain. So much suffering and agony in those words, and they pierced Kyojuro in a terrible way. He knew Akaza, or he liked to think he did. The demon had the roughest of exteriors (well, maybe not compared to Gyutaro) but a large heart. Sanemi had tried to tell him that all demons were heartless, and Kyojuro was prepared to die on the opposing hill.

He could not look at Akaza and say the demon had no heart. He couldn't.

Akaza's heart was immense. He loved so fully and so completely that it reminded Kyojuro of himself sometimes. Akaza loved Kotoha, Douma, Gyutaro, Daki... he loved Inosuke and Miku most of all. Akaza would lay his life down without hesitation for them, and not only them. The demon snarled when someone questioned Kanae's expertise. He sneered whenever an injured slayer snapped something they didn't mean while in pain, making one of the butterfly girls cry. He did kill when a demon tried to ambush Kyojuro.

So much love, and so much pain. The flame hashira did not like to think about who he'd be if he became a demon, but current events had forced all of them to confront that uncomfortable reality. Kyojuro moved his hand before he could think and placed it gently on the demon's shoulder. The ex-upper moon flinched at the unexpected touch, but he did not pull away; he just stared straight ahead.

"I am sorry for prying," Kyojuro murmured.

"Don't be sorry," Akaza assured him quickly, daring to glance at him. "I would not tell you if I didn't want to."

And Kyojuro knew it was true. Akaza took a long, conscious breath, probably to smell the thick scent of blooming flowers (other than wisteria, although based on his grimace, he smelled plenty of that too).

"Besides," the demon chuckled after a moment. "It's not too surprising that he doesn't ask for consent. Nezuko didn't ask for this. Few do, I think."

No... no, definitely not.

"Still, I'm sorry," Kyojuro stated simply. "You did not deserve that."

"Perhaps I did..." Akaza shrugged. "I was not good, and I was not... strong enough -"

"You did not deserve that," Kyojuro interrupted, certain and brash. Akaza looked at him, and Kyojuro easily summoned a smile. "No matter your crimes or your morals, a demon's fate is something no one deserves. Even if you did ask, how would you have known the torment? I think you're right, it's just a fate best never walked."

Of this, he was certain.

Akaza shook his head, but a warm smile returned as he reached up and held Kyojuro's hand on his shoulder. It was a strange sensation, initially cold as most demons but giving in to a simpler warmth.

"You're a strange one, Kyojuro," Akaza murmured.

"I'm afraid you can't say much on such a subject, seeing as you've just finished sparring with a hashira."

"Point taken," Akaza smirked. "A more accurate term would be... you're a good one, Kyojuro. Better than most."

"I do not know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"How could you not be good?" Akaza challenged. "What more could you do?"

He smiled at that; So much more. If he were truly good, he would know of a way to bring joy back to his house, to bring a smile to his father's face, to bring light to Senjuro's eyes, to bring laughter to their home like his mother would have wanted. Someone good would not have failed so many people, slayers, and citizens who lost their lives to his own failures.

"I can always do more," Kyojuro smiled up at the moon. He could feel Akaza smiling at him, and that made something strange in his chest burn brighter.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"A mission?" Douma sounded shocked, and Kotoha watched his expression dance over a plethora of emotions.

"Only if you're open to the idea," the young Ubuyashiki son explained. He was so mature for someone his age, with a steeled voice and a steady gaze. His hands shook, though - he was nervous.

Kiriya Ubuyashiki had come as his father's liaison, offering a mission to the one demon who had yet to stray from the mansion. Kotoha smiled at the boy's nervousness, and at her expression, he visibly relaxed. He was doing wonderfully, and Kotoha hoped his father would tell him so when he returned home.

She was still trying to tell if this was a test for the boy, or for Douma.

"I - I'm not sure," the demon replied with a tight smile... nervous. Always nervous.

"My father has reconciled your concerns about leaving the mansion unattended. Several hashira are to stay at headquarters, and the demons Daki and Gyutaro are not to be sent out until you return. This way, the mansion is thoroughly protected while you are away."

A decent plan, Kotoha was beginning to realize such things were typical of Kagaya.

"Is there..." Douma seemed to be reaching for words from where he stood. Kotoha sat at her desk a few feet away, watching it all. "Is there a reason I'm needed for this mission?"

"My father would like to see how you are in a high-stress environment - " Kiriya explained.

Kotoha smiled wryly at the idea of Douma's high-stress environment. Such a thing wasn't out on the battlefield, but rather in the medical wing with Inosuke missing a tooth and donning new claw marks down his arm. That was Douma's high-stress environment.

The thought brought a small giggle to her lips.

"Also - " the boy continued," - as ex-Upper Two, you may be able to gather intel that isn't readily available to the others. Gyomei is a capable hashira, and with his help, perhaps the two of you can discover what Muzan is planning with these strange demon occurrences. There have been numerous missing slayers at the location, and Father has a bad feeling."

"Ah... I see," Douma pondered.

Kotoha did too - they'd discussed the change in demon activity with Akaza, Gyutaro, Daki, and even Kanae. Demons were quieter now, striking less frequently but hard in scattered places. Nearby demon slayer patrols were typically too low-level or too unprepared to deal with an attack so large and were lost before more skilled slayers could reach them, now typically accompanied by a demon of their own.

Gyutaro thought it may be a diversion tactic; to scatter the slayer resources. Daki naturally concurred with her brother. Akaza posed the idea that the attacks weren't random and that perhaps these demon bands were given a specific task by Muzan. Maybe they were striking places with a large number of marechi, maybe they were after something else, maybe there was some sort of competition in the ranks of the Kisuki after the death of Lower One, so there were even more ranks to fill, and plenty of demons were willing to join together for a moment to try and reach for it.

It couldn't hurt to get Douma out there and throw another theory on the table. Douma glanced at her as if asking for permission that he knew he didn't need.

"Whatever you want, love," she assured him. If he wanted to stay, he should stay and do what it took to quell his anxiety. If his curiosity was burning, then he should go; it wouldn't hurt for the demon slayers to grow more comfortable with him.

"I..." Douma managed. "I... will try."

Kiriya smiled, perhaps in relief. "You will?"

"Yes... I think I've holed myself in here long enough," Douma muttered with a wry smile. "Akaza has been telling me I need to get out more."

"I couldn't hurt," Kotoha concurred, swallowing some nerves she couldn't place. "It may even be fun."

"Let's not get too hasty," Douma laughed. He was nervous, it was obvious - but they'd discussed how he couldn't protect them forever. They'd discussed his control issues and how it was right for him to leave from time to time. The fact that Gyutaro and Daki were staying seemed to calm his fears, and Kotoha was thankful for that.

Maybe this would be good for him...

So then why did she have a terrible pit in her stomach... why did she feel that something bad was about to happen?