Chapter Text
Kyojuro Rengoku had become used to the constant dull ache that bloomed in his chest. In fact, it was a welcomed ache compared to the harsh, grinding pain that used to shoot through him every breath as he was held together by Shinobu’s stitches and glue. It had taken months for his breathing to become pain free. He was used to constant aches and pains as a slayer and often never thought twice about his own wellbeing, choosing to ignore his body for the sake of the greater good and the safety of those around him, but his battle with Akaza made him horribly aware of his own mortality.
He almost would have preferred to die on the battlefield. It was a selfish thought, he knew, but after spending months confined to a hospital bed in the Butterfly Mansion, drifting in and out of consciousness, in and out of life, could he be blamed? How was he even still alive? Akaza had fully impaled him.
The only logical conclusion that Kyojuro had come to was that Akaza had wanted him to survive. If Akaza wanted him dead, he would be. It constantly haunted his thoughts. Why would one of the Twelve Kizuki, especially Upper Moon Three, let a Hashira who was well within his grasp live? Kyojuro knew better than to voice his concerns to his comrades, they had more than enough reasons to worry about him, most of them had probably already considered this predicament. Rengoku wasn't sure he wanted to hear their reasoning, not after Tanjiro Kamado had lengthily discussed Akaza’s concerning obsession with turning Kyojuro into a demon so they could fight for eternity to Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Sanemi when they had returned.
Is that why he was alive? So Akaza could fight him again. It simply didn't make sense. Why wouldn't Akaza want to officially take victory in their battle? Rengoku had made it clear he would not become a demon. He refused. If Akaza was going to turn him regardless of his consent, why would he not just do it outside the Mugen train? Rengoku had more than enough wounds for Akaza to choose from to spill his blood into. His head spun with the possibilities, none of which he understood. He closed his eyes again, content to let sleep overtake his worrying mind.
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The pressure on Kyojuro’s chest was enough to rouse him from his slumber, but not enough to compel him to open his eyes. Although he was curious, who would come check on him at such an hour? Now that he had begun rigorous physical therapy to get back into shape, he had no problems sleeping though the night. Shinobu had ceased her midnight check-ins completely, as the fear of him falling asleep and never waking began to fade from the forefront of everyone’s minds.
Mitsuri often visited him and she was the only one who’s hugs were bone crushing enough to exert a pressure like this. Although, at this hour it wasn’t likely that she had visited. Even if she had arrived at the Butterfly Mansion tonight, Shinobu certainly wouldn’t let her wake him, much less press against his still-healing chest with this much force.
He hesitantly cracked an eye open, breath immediately catching in his throat at what he saw. Upper Moon Three sat perched upon his chest, casual as ever. If they were partners, it would have been sweet, a casual show of affection and closeness. But they were not partners. They were far from anything of the sort. They were closer to mortal enemies than anything else, the only thing Kyojuro Rengoku hated more than the Twelve Kizuki was Muzan Kibutsuji himself.
“Akaza,” he wheezed, air trapped outside his lungs, unable to draw a full breath with the pressure exerted onto his diaphragm.
The demon’s eyes widened in response, “You’re awake.” It was almost more of a question than a statement. As if Kyojuro wouldn't obviously wake up with a demon sitting on his chest, practically straddling his recently healed ribs and stitched up organs.
Kyojuro knew he was helpless, there was no chance of defending himself, his sword wasn’t even in the room with him. Even if he could access it, he could barely walk, much less undergo a battle similar to his last. The only thing he could do is gather information that may help someone slay Akaza in the future. That or be killed where he laid. A sick feeling inside of him knew Akaza would never allow himself to be slain. Perhaps even more disturbing was the thought that Akaza wasn’t going to kill him. But why?
“Of course I’m awake. You’re sitting on top of me.” He tried to maintain a calm demeanor, although his voice trembled. Akaza tilted his head, seeing right through his mask of confidence, it was as if he saw into Kyojuro’s very soul.
“You’ve never awoken before.” Akaza stated simply, as if he had been here a hundred times, done this every night, like a twisted guardian angel. As if Rengoku had known about this. As if there had been a before? As if this wasn’t the first time Akaza had sat on his chest and watched him sleep?
Rengoku had tried to deny Tanjiro Kamado’s claims of Akaza’s obsession. He wanted to believe that Akaza just loved a good fight. He wanted to believe that the manic smile and crazed look in the demon’s eyes were from bloodlust and the satisfaction of being so close to killing a Hashira and making Muzan proud. Despite all that he wanted to believe, somewhere deep inside, Rengoku knew that Akaza had formed some sort of twisted, obsessed bond with him. Seeing him now, so close with no intent to kill, Rengoku knew his fears were true.
“Become a demon with me Kyojuro, stop this embarrassingly slow healing process and become what you were always meant to be.” Akaza spoke again, breaking the silence that accompanied Rengoku’s panicked mind.
“I refuse! I will never allow it, Akaza. You will not get what you want, so leave me!” Kyojuro tried to put as much emphasis as he could behind his words. Although it didn't take much effort, he was painfully passionate about keeping his humanity.
Akaza tisked as he ran a finger down from Kyojuro’s collarbone to his sternum, over the layers of bandages that still couldn't come off after months of stitches and ointments. “I could fix all of this for you, you wouldn't have to be in pain anymore. You could be great. You would be perfect.”
“Absolutley not, I will ask you again: leave me. Do not return.” Kyojuro finally managed to wiggle an arm free from beneath Akaza’s thighs and pushed him backward. It was a weak shove, one that wouldn't have even affected a small child, but Akaza got off of him all the same.
“Why do you allow yourself to suffer like this? You know I hate to see you in pain.” Akaza looked him in the eye, shining with a sort of painful hesitancy. He stepped closer to the open window, sighed, and made his escape.
Kyojuro let out a sigh of relief as the coldness of the room was filtered out with a warm breeze from the open window. How had Akaza even made it into the mansion? It was surrounded with thick groves of wisteria trees. It worried him to think what may happen if someone more deadly than Akaza ever discovered their location. More deadly than Akaza? Kyojuro shook his head, Akaza was deadly, he was just playing some twisted game with him, he should not think for a second that Akaza will leave him unharmed. He was just playing with his ‘food’ but, why did Kyojuro feel sincerity coming from him? What did Akaza mean that he hated to see him in pain? His eyes were so expressive, full of some kind of longing. Maybe Akaza had another motive, maybe he just- no. Rengoku silenced his train of thought. Akaza was not just a demon, he was an Upper Moon. He was a killer and had been for centuries. He would be slain, and Kyojuro hoped he could be the one to do it.