Chapter Text
The first time they were together, Kokushibo didn’t actually remember it all that clearly. Or well, to be honest, he remembered every single thing that happened, just not the reason behind it. He knew his lord had ordered him to go find Douma at his temple, complaining that he’d been shirking his duties for too long and needed to be reprimanded. It was pretty obvious that his lord had grown tired of repeating himself to Douma and had decided to send the only person ranked above him to scold him. It should’ve been easy to lecture him and leave, even if Douma would just laugh at his words like they were the best joke Kokushibo had ever told. Which was strange, considering Kokushibo had never told a single joke in his life.
The point is, after the completely ineffective scolding, Douma started talking far too much to him. Some human gossip that he definitely didn’t listen to, some tasks Douma was bored of doing, and so on. And while Douma talked, he kept getting closer. And closer. To the point that he was basically lying on top of him. The real question here is: why didn’t Kokushibo push him away? The answer to that was beyond Kokushibo’s understanding—he genuinely didn’t know, not even back then. Nor why he allowed it to continue. He was only very sure that the right thing to do was leave after that. Not that he’d say it out loud.
It should’ve ended there. Definitely. But then his lord summoned him again and told him to go check whether Douma had understood what Kokushibo had supposedly told him. And what Douma had very likely ignored. Too busy running his hands up and down Kokushibo’s arms to pay attention to anything. And if he had listened, that was worse. Because instead of answering about what he was supposed to have done in the two months between both visits, Douma just smiled and invited him for tea sometime. Kokushibo didn’t respond to that. It was obvious neither of them could drink tea, but he didn’t reject the invitation either.
Not that he planned to go. He didn’t want to stare at the collection of human skulls Douma liked to comb in his free time. Which was, essentially, all the time. When he wasn’t eating people or listening to his followers’ problems. There wasn’t much to do for someone immortal with no apparent interests. Not even in improving his combat skills, which was outrageous, in Kokushibo’s opinion. That’s why he made up his mind to teach him how to fight better the next time he visited. It would help his lord’s plans and improve the performance of the second most powerful demon. Unfortunately, he failed again. Third time’s the charm, they say. In Kokushibo’s opinion, the first should be enough. Everything else is just useless excuses to justify your own failures. And yet, he found himself going back a fifth time—was it the sixth?
It was definitely the tenth, he thought. He didn’t know. He should’ve still been convinced he wasn’t going on his own, but Kokushibo wasn’t the kind of man to make excuses for himself. Or so he liked to believe. Because he kept telling himself he could still convince Douma to at least try to look for the Blue Spider Lily. Even while Douma’s arms clung to his waist, his head resting against his stomach. Smiling as if he’d defeated yet another opponent. Which he probably had.
“Kokushibo-dono, why don’t you stay this time?” Douma lifted his head to look up at him, smiling. His blond hair was even messier than usual, and his eyes glowed in the dark. “When you leave, I feel so lonely. You’re the only one of my friends who comes to visit me.” Friend wasn’t the word Kokushibo would’ve used to describe whatever was going on between them. Work acquaintances felt much more accurate. But Douma wasn’t exactly reliable when it came to social perceptions. He even said Akaza was his best friend, when it was obvious that man despised him.
Douma shifted, and the Buddhist necklace hanging over his collarbone rattled softly. Kokushibo tried to comprehend the odds that Douma had done what he did while wearing a religious necklace around his neck. He didn’t care much about religion; he knew his lord was the only being more powerful than himself. But still, he understood that there was something unsettling about the whole thing.
Because honestly, sleeping with a man while wearing that necklace was definitely a serious offense. But Kokushibo knew Douma had never cared in the slightest whether something was serious or wrong. Just like being half-naked in bed with your superior. Corporate ethics, or whatever. That’s what Kokushibo figured Douma would think if he ever brought up any of those topics. Not that he would. But that wasn’t exactly the point.
Kokushibo, despite his actions, did respect corporate ethics. Hierarchy was the only thing keeping the demonic structure in order. That’s why he had things to do. Like training, improving, and carrying out their lord’s tasks. He also understood that these encounters needed to end. This whole situation was a little absurd.
“I don’t think we should repeat this nonsense.” The back of Douma’s head bumped against Kokushibo’s chest as he shifted. Kokushibo still didn’t understand why Douma could never stay still. In his opinion, calm came much easier when you didn’t move. Kokushibo himself wasn’t moving now, so there was no reason for his heart rate to fluctuate. Not in the slightest.
The sheets were uncomfortably scattered all over the bed. It was a mess—definitely a lot of laundry for Douma’s servants. He didn’t know why he was noticing that when Douma clearly wasn’t. Since he kept fidgeting like nothing happened. “Well, I don’t really think this is a problem,” Douma said, waving a hand theatrically in the air while staring at the ceiling. “Think of it this way: if that man hasn’t said anything about this, it probably isn’t that bad.” Now, his free hand was idly playing with the waistband of Kokushibo’s pants. Kokushibo assumed Douma’s strength came from his ability to multitask so pointlessly. Saying nonsense while doing nonsense. Which Kokushibo was definitely paying attention to. “It’s only happened, like… three times?”
It was the twelfth time. Kokushibo remembered that clearly now. He wouldn’t say it, though. Maybe that would make things worse for both of them. Still, he wouldn’t let this happen again.
“Look, look.” Douma sat up, and the necklace rattled even louder. It almost made Kokushibo grimace. Almost. “If that man hasn’t said anything, he probably thinks it’s a good thing.”
“A good thing?” Kokushibo said, and he sounded more lost than he wanted to admit. Though it had always been obvious that conversation wasn’t his strength. And that was frustrating, because this was entirely Douma’s territory.
“Consider your temporary stay as an incentive for me. I promise I’ll work harder if you stay for a while.” Surprisingly, Douma moved quickly, using his body to position his face above Kokushibo’s. Not that Kokushibo couldn’t have pushed him away—ranks existed for a reason. He just didn’t mind Douma’s face that close, nor his hair almost brushing against him. Almost. That’s why there was no problem. “Besides, you do know there’s not much you can do during the day, right?”
That was true, actually. Daytime was basically free time for demons. Especially the higher-ranked ones, since they couldn’t carry out their lord’s missions or hunt humans. Kokushibo usually spent those hours training within the walls of the Infinity Castle. Every single day. He wasn’t about to change that just because of some lower-ranked demon’s whim.
“Taking a break from your duties won’t kill you, I do it all the time and look at me.” The fact that Douma was using himself as an example was already reason enough to say no. Although Kokushibo’s attention was more focused on how Douma’s fangs glinted with saliva when he smiled. “I’d never try to defeat you—not even in a million years. You’re way too powerful for that.”
“Fine.” Kokushibo said when Douma’s knee got a little too close to his thigh. From this distance, he could clearly see the maze-like pattern in Douma’s eyes, darkened into something else. Though he didn’t manage to figure out what it meant before Douma suddenly jumped off the bed, cheerfully singing about how much fun this was going to be as he got dressed to go bathe. Dawn was approaching, and soon the followers would start arriving.
Kokushibo sighed. He figured the thirteenth time would have to be the charm.
…
Once again, Kokushibo didn’t know when exactly he had given in to this point. About an hour and a half had passed since Douma had left to get dressed. He came back clean, his hair neatly combed, and those heavy robes cascading down like a waterfall. Thankfully, this time he wasn’t wearing the necklace. Though the hat didn’t help—it was far too large. Always awkward when Kokushibo had to remove it from him. The robes were awkward too. His tight clothes as well.
He interrupted his own arbitrary thoughts. He was rambling. But that was much better than listening to Douma’s whining, who still wouldn’t let him leave the room.
“Come on, it’s obvious you can’t go out looking like that.” Douma grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly, trying to knock some sense into him. Which wasn’t necessary. Kokushibo understood his point. His eyes would definitely scare those stupid creatures. But in his defense, it was Douma’s fault for not thinking this through. First, insisting he stay during the day. And now, asking him to change his appearance? The audacity, Kokushibo thought yet again. Though he was tired of repeating it to himself, so he didn’t say it. He just stood there silently while Douma kept talking. “What will the followers think if they see a six-eyed demon radiating creepy energy?”
As if Douma cared about what his followers thought. He literally made one of the gods they worship his own lord. The only smart thing Douma had ever done, really. Besides managing to keep him here until now. Though that wasn’t a good thing. No, definitely not.
“Don’t worry, if you were actually ugly as a human, I promise I won’t make fun of you.” Despite the words, Douma’s smile made Kokushibo think the exact opposite. Since he looked like he was already mocking him, and Kokushibo hadn’t even shown his face yet. And it wasn’t that he was insecure—no one had ever told him he was unpleasant to look at, and that was enough. Some unnecessary compliments when he was human, but nothing more. He simply didn’t want to stain his image as a demon by returning to something as pathetic as a human form. That would basically dishonor what his lord had granted him. Not that Douma cared about that, since he kept rambling. “You know, I’ve got several followers who are pretty unpleasant-looking and no one says anything to them. Actually, they get treated even better because people feel sorry for them.”
The defeated sigh Kokushibo let out was answer enough. Both for himself and for Douma. He wasn’t doing it because Douma’s words struck a nerve, nor because the thought of someone—some human—pitying him bothered him too much. He simply understood that his lord wouldn’t be angry at what he was about to do. It was necessary to maintain the facade of a cult that worshipped his lord. Besides, he had done this occasionally on infiltration missions. Where his lord wasn’t present, of course. He would never show himself in human form before him. But Douma wasn’t him .
So he closed all his eyes and began erasing every out-of-place feature. From his fangs to his skin, now he was sure he looked completely human. It wasn’t a sight he liked to see, given the memories it brought back, so he never stood in front of a mirror. Not that he did as a demon either, but that wasn’t the point. He just didn’t remember it being that bad—no one had made strange faces when looking at him like this. Nothing explained the expression Douma had when Kokushibo finally opened his eyes.
“Oh, wow.” Kokushibo thought this might be the first time he’d ever seen Douma at a loss for words, without the usual teasing smirk his face carried. Just his eyes slightly widened, brows raised in a look that was far too confused. Was that… admiration? Or was it actually disgust? It could even be pity—he had said he pitied ugly people. But Douma wasn’t laughing at him, and Kokushibo knew Douma found ugly people funny. “Wow.” That thought turned out to be wrong—the smile was returning to Douma’s face. He was going to laugh again, definitely. Kokushibo wasn’t going to allow it this time.
“If there’s something wrong with my face, you can—” But before Kokushibo could finish, he was cut off by Douma’s voice.
“Don’t say anything!” Douma covered his eyes with one hand, and with the other, used his fan to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “If you keep talking to me with that pretty voice of yours, I’m afraid I’ll end up in second place.” Now, he pretended to be horrified by the very idea.
Kokushibo raised an eyebrow in response. This was what made his human appearance unpleasant—there were too many possible expressions with two eyes and eyebrows. Facial gestures were harder to control. Unlike Douma, who kept shifting from one expression to the next with ease. At this moment, he was fanning himself as if it were hot. As if the ice demon, specifically, could feel heat. Reacting directly to Kokushibo’s raised brow.
“You see, around here I’m praised for my immensely beautiful appearance…” There was something strange about a person referring to themselves as immensely beautiful . But Kokushibo understood well enough that Douma was strange, so he didn’t question it. He was just watching this whole performance carefully. Waiting to hear if Douma would tell him what was wrong with his face. “But I don’t know what I’ll do if someone too handsome stands next to me.”
“Excuse me?” His brows furrowed in confusion, and Kokushibo internally scolded himself for the gesture. He hoped that didn’t show on his face too. He wished he’d never agreed to this entire ridiculous situation.
“How was I supposed to know that under that terrifying face of yours there was such a pretty one? Now my followers will stare at you instead of me.” Douma started pacing around the room like this was the biggest crisis of his life. As if his followers weren’t already completely obsessed with him. To the point where they wouldn’t even glance at anyone else. “What am I supposed to do if someone confesses to you? I’ll have to protect them or you’ll kill them.”
Kokushibo also thought he could point out the fact that Douma already killed them himself anyway. But instead, he stated another obvious fact. “I don’t remember my face very clearly, but I’m sure I don’t have such exotic features as yours.”
After hearing those words, Douma’s head turned quickly. His smile returned as if it had never left, but the raised eyebrow made it clear he had heard something he wasn’t going to let go of. Something he’d use to gloat over from now on. “Did you just call me pretty?” He started walking toward Kokushibo.
“I’m pretty sure those weren’t my words.” But that statement, and everything it implied, clearly wasn’t enough to stop Douma. Who wrapped his arms around Kokushibo’s neck, tilting his head as he spoke. Fingertips brushing the base of his ponytail.
“There’s no need to play hard to get right now. No one would dare offend you with that face of yours.” Kokushibo didn’t even understand what he meant—that had nothing to do with the conversation. So, even with his socially awkward mind, he tried to steer his response.
“Is there something wrong with my face?” Kokushibo turned to look away, avoiding Douma’s eyes. Maybe, for once, not having access to the Transparent World wasn’t such a disadvantage.
“Hm?” Douma tilted his head, moving to catch Kokushibo’s human eyes again. It was easy to be drawn in by the color. “There’s nothing wrong at all. I like purple.”
Kokushibo doubted Douma even had a favorite color. He probably didn’t care about any of them. Still, the fact that he specifically mentioned that color—the one he knew Kokushibo’s eyes had—felt a little uncomfortable. He could’ve said anything else, like his nose or his cheekbones. But of course, mentioning the color of his eyes was unsettling. It had always been the only thing different about him. Different in a way that reminded him of someone he didn’t want to think about right now. Or ever. So he pushed Douma’s arms away and headed for the door, stepping out into the hallway.
Then, as he walked further, he heard Douma yelling that he was going the wrong way. Honestly, this temple was even more confusing than the Infinity Castle. It was almost like an extension of Douma himself, somehow. Because Douma knew exactly where everything was. So he started leading the way to the prayer hall once Kokushibo returned to his side, jaw tight.
Douma didn’t mention anything this time. He just started talking about the gossip from the servants that Kokushibo would soon meet—again. All while casually grabbing the sleeve of one of Kokushibo’s robes to pull him along. A purple sleeve, specifically.
…
Being around humans, unlike what Kokushibo remembered, might have been a bit overwhelming. More than he’d admit out loud, since his face remained completely impassive—or so he hoped—while all the servants came out. If he had listened to Douma enough not to get lost in the endless stream of nonsense he’d thrown at him during the five-minute walk, the servants woke up an hour early to prepare everything. He thinks Douma also mentioned how stupid they were for believing he actually woke up early. Kokushibo, once again, wouldn’t point out the fact that Douma had probably told them that lie himself, just to seem more dedicated than he actually was.
He simply stayed silent when the servants approached to greet Douma, bowing before him. And then, when they stood up again, they shot nervous glances at Kokushibo. That meant his intimidating, respect-demanding aura was still working, he thought proudly.
Although Douma made sure to shatter that image when, upon noticing the expressions on the humans’ faces, he threw an arm around Kokushibo’s shoulders. Shaking him slightly. Good thing Kokushibo wasn’t someone who got dizzy easily, honestly.
“You’re robably wondering who this adorable guy is.” This time, Kokushibo was sure he didn’t manage to control the tic in his eye when he heard the word adorable. The audacity—calling your superior adorable and belittling him in front of humans. But if he said that out loud—which he really wanted to—the humans would definitely realize something was wrong. If they hadn’t already, considering how visibly they swallowed hard when they met Kokushibo’s gaze. The only one not uncomfortable here was, of course, Douma. “Well! I’ve decided to get myself a bodyguard for the time being!”
The disbelieving look everyone gave Douma should have been a clear sign that he was talking nonsense. In the servants’ case, they looked genuinely concerned as to why a bodyguard was even necessary. Nothing bad had ever happened at the cult; people just disappeared to go to paradise. Other than that, all Douma asked of them was to be happy and live a peaceful life. Telling them that if they had any problem, they should come speak to him and be heard. Which happened quite often, since the cult was mostly made up of the sick, the poor, and fugitives.
On the other hand, the disbelieving look Kokushibo shot at Douma was even stronger, mixed now with a hint of frustration. Which had slowly dripped out of someone who was otherwise completely composed—step by step, thanks to someone like Douma. How dare his subordinate reduce him to such a degrading role? Kokushibo served only his lord, and Douma knew that. But he liked to pretend he didn’t. And apparently, he hadn’t missed the way everyone else reacted either, because he kept talking.
“Don’t look at me like that, guys. Things have been getting really dangerous in the nearby town lately.” Kokushibo almost let out a disbelieving snort, since he was the only one aware of the real reason for that. In response to what their lord had ordered Douma, he had started sending his ice clones into the town to kill people. Pathetic, miserable beings— sad little creatures, as Douma had called them when explaining his supposed progress. And yet, he still had the nerve to use that to not only tell an unbelievably bad lie but also to undermine Kokushibo’s rank.
This time, he definitely wasn’t going to stay silent. He opened his mouth to speak—but was cut off by Douma’s hand covering it.
“Besides, it’s good to have someone super strong to protect us from any danger.” If the smile Douma wore while saying that—knowing full well that he was the third most powerful being in existence—wasn’t audacious enough, the way he started toying with the fingers of the hand still draped around Kokushibo’s shoulders certainly was. And the servants noticed that too.
“Oh, don’t worry about what he was going to say. He tends to get very talkative and say all sorts of nonsense.” That was the strangest and most unrealistic description of himself Kokushibo had ever heard in his life. But he was too busy trying not to be overly uncomfortable with Douma’s hand still covering his mouth. This went beyond insubordination—if another demon, like Akaza for example, saw him like this, the damage to the chain of command would be irreparable. The idea that the Second Upper Moon could silence the First like this… Honestly, it was a complete humiliation that he wasn’t doing anything about it.
“Come on, let’s get ready before everyone else wakes up.”
Maybe the servants had also been about to say something, but they were interrupted by Douma’s arms gently pushing them forward. It was clear he wanted them gone before his obvious lie became too obvious. So the servants started walking ahead without protest. Honestly, Douma’s ability to control those poor humans was remarkable. And Kokushibo wanted to believe he wasn’t one of them. Because once again, he tried to say something—what exactly? He had no idea. Not that Douma let him get a word out before interrupting him again.
“No problem, right? We have to maintain the facade.” Douma whispered softly, so no one nearby would hear. He even leaned down a little to look up at Kokushibo from below. At that moment, the dangling ornaments on Douma’s hat swayed as he spoke. Then, he leaned closer to Kokushibo’s ear to whisper, cupping his hand as if he were sharing some sinful secret. “I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.” His eyes narrowed mischievously as he smiled. Because, of course, Douma was the only one who could say something like that while dressed as a religious figure.
It wasn’t strange for Douma to play these complicated games. He did it with every other demon and person he met. All the Upper Moons constantly fell for his provocations—especially Akaza or Hantengu, who reacted far too emotionally to Douma’s presence. Kokushibo was the opposite. But that didn’t save him from being dragged along too. In his own way. Because even though everyone eventually gave in, getting to the point of disguising himself as a human and being reduced like this… was something that had only happened to Kokushibo. Really, he was the only disgrace.
So he sighed and followed Douma as he started walking through the halls. Watching him greet the servants and new followers with a friendly smile, his robes flowing behind him as he moved confidently. Making everyone bow as he passed.
Kokushibo didn’t understand why anyone would bow so easily to someone who only spoke empty promises. But when he heard Douma’s laughter echo through the place, he thought… maybe he understood a little more. Just a little more.
.