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The king had never before thought he’d enjoy companionship. His existence was too singular, too spectacular to share with anyone else. Surely everyone was too mundane for the impressive being that was him: the ultimate, apex creature. So, no, the king—Ouja, as he called himself—did not care to create any others like him, for none were worth his time.
Or so he thought, until he found his pet.
He’d once been a member of the slayers’ corps, though he himself would no longer remember such a life now. His king made sure of that. No, all devotion to that kin had been dissolved the moment Ouja seized the chance and took him. He’d been alone in the woods, separated from the small, pitiful pack he traveled with and left vulnerable for the taking. And now, he sat hunched at Ouja’s feet, happily consuming the meal provided to him inside the ornate home they shared.
He already cut a striking figure as a human, but now that he had been fixed and perfected, he was simply stunning. His hair, long and waving, cascaded down a scarred and muscled back in deep black and rich maroon strands. His face was turned from Ouja, busy as he was with the twitching body given to him, but the king could remember its features well: the gold pupil and black sclera eye on the left, then the three stacked eyes on the right, red and webbed with gold and never all three looking in the same direction—not unless something really caught his attention, like Ouja’s own face often did. He’d quite like to see that again, to see the sharp, demanding focus of those four eyes fixating on him. Yes, he’d like that now; he stretched out a leg, and caught his pet’s chin atop his shoe.
His pet—affectionately named Inu by the king—turned immediately at the beckon, abandoning his supper mid bite to stare up at him. Fresh blood stained around his mouth and painted his teeth red, which Ouja saw as he happily grinned, slow blinks accompanying the sweet expression.
“Hello,” Ouja purred, always delighted by that loving stare he’d provide. Inu made a soft humming noise in reply and nuzzled his chin down, pressing against Ouja’s foot in a gesture of ask. Ouja, already knowing his desire, nodded and moved his leg. Inu immediately crawled forward, long-nailed and bloody hands grasping his knees and pushing upwards, moving to cradle his thighs as his head found comfort upon them. Ouja threaded his own fingers through Inu’s tantalizing hair, tightening a fist around the strands while Inu buried his face into his legs and sighed contentedly.
“Are you enjoying your meal?” He asked his pet, which earned a rumbling purr and a nod.
“Would you finish it with me?” Inu asked in return, and lifted his four eyes to see the king. Behind him, the meal made a weak whimpering noise, one bloody hand briefly clawing at the tatami mats before falling still again. Ouja grinned, satisfied with his own work. He always thought it best to feed his pet the freshest cuts of meat.
“Happily,” he told Inu, then tugged on his hair, guiding his head up and away to provide himself room to stand. Inu pouted at the separation, but the upset soon faded as Ouja ushered him along, back to their twitching meal.
“Pl…ease…” the food croaked when Ouja leered over her, her dull, grey eyes fluttering to stare up at him. “Ju…st…kill…me…”
“Oh,” Ouja cooed, crouching and reaching out to tuck away some of her sticky hair. Inu watched the movement closely, his mouth contorting into a jealous grimace, but their supper just whimpered, blinking supplicantly at Ouja as he moved his fingers to the center of her brow. “If that is what you desire, I shall provide! I am nothing if not benevolent, you agree?”
And he plunged his hand into her skull.
The flesh and bone parted easily, giving him quick passage into the soft tissue of the meal’s brain. She twitched obscenely for a moment, her spasming cry echoing like a beast’s final wails—before she fell silent and still, eyes glossing over and heart stuttering to a halt. Inu giggled loudly at her demise and tossed his head to the side, giving Ouja a wide, toothy grin and closing his eyes in gratification.
“Glorious,” he murmured, before delving in again, ripping the skin and meat from her throat and chowing down with a happy fervor. Ouja could not stop a small laugh of his own, watching his pet enjoy himself so thoroughly. Inu’s glee always tickled him so deeply.
“Inu,” he said as he messily devoured his fistful of flesh, proud to see such a carnal display from his obedient pet, “I believe it is time for you to hunt alongside me.”
Inu did not offer his agreement nor appreciation in words, but Ouja did not need him to. He could hear his thoughts clearly, and could read that desirous glint in all his eyes like a well loved book. No arbitrary sentence was needed to prove his love and devotion to Ouja. His every cell belonged to him already; what would such a simple proclamation provide that complete ownership did not?
~
Inu was not like his king. He could not walk beneath the burning sun, could not remember the atrocities of mankind—could not remember anything outside of his generosity and love. He knew himself inferior for these facts, but his king, Ouja, ensured he never dwelled too long on them: that he understood how beloved he was in his sight, how beautiful he’d been made by his hand. It was why they found themselves beneath pale moonlight to hunt, rather than the cruel sun. Ouja would simply accommodate his needs, instead of belittling him or casting him aside. He was kind and benevolent that way.
Ouja himself was a visage of strength and power in the white light, his pink eyes glittering and nose pointed high, so he could sniff out their quarry. Inu trailed dutifully behind him. A drop of blood hung from his middle fingertip, ready to practice his gifted art, ready to flick at whatever prey they found to capture and dine on. He did love his king’s insistence on fresh meals: the more they screamed and begged, the better fed Inu was—or so Ouja said. Their oozing blood and warm flesh certainly tasted better than that of a stale supper, giving him more energy and strength than stagnant meat ever could. Oh, how nicely Ouja treated him, his clement and merciful master.
“Inu,” Ouja said then, short and quick and tainted with the excited hum of a hunt begun. Inu’s blood thrummed in his veins with a happy pulse, quivering that drop he held fast the same way his teeth chattered, teetering on the edge of anticipation and frenzy.
“The left,” his king continued, nose turning that way to sniff, “three slayers. Can you smell them?” He glanced over his shoulder, moonlight catching on his fangs with a tantalizing glint. “Do as I taught you. Come now, I know you can sniff them out.”
Inu raised his nose and opened his lips, breathing deep as his king had indeed taught him. He did not have as keen a nose as his master, but he could at least somewhat compensate with how well he could taste. Ouja instructed him on how to pick out different scents in the air by the way they landed on his tongue—especially the scent of living things, their rushing blood and pounding hearts and tainted breaths. It was a heady and electric prickle on his gums that made him grin and giggle and close his eyes and breathe. He could discern the three smells, just as Ouja had said. He could already imagine how they would taste as well. Saliva pooled on his tongue, starving and eager.
“Why don’t you go say hello?” His king suggested, already knowing Inu had found them. He knew everything Inu thought or felt. He was divine that way.
And it was a most certainly delicious idea. He giggled and did as suggested right away, darting swiftly off sideways towards his quarry, blood quivering in tantalized expectation, in readiness.
He saw a girl first in the clearing—or the back of her head, to be precise. He saw short, black hair and a pink hemp-pattern kimono tucked into hakama pants. A warrior, then. She held a sword aloft in one hand, and in front of her were two men. One of them—yellow-haired and gold-eyed—was turned towards Inu, glittering eyes wide in absolute rapture. They were all frozen—strangely familiar—all bearing different colored swords and all reeking of terror and anticipation. A perfect group for slaughter. A perfect meal.
Inu saw this all in one splint second, one passing moment of curiosity before he flicked his wrist and flung his droplet of blood into the middle of them.
Ouja heard the slayer’s cautionary scream almost the same moment he watched his pet’s blood art take effect. The humans scurried desperately away from the gnarled tree that came from his blood, all panicking uselessly, clearly horrified as they gaped up at Inu and tried to reform a proper group. How adorable they were, clinging to companionship as if that would save them. Odd too. Ouja recognized them, from when he found his dear pet in the first place. They had once been Inu’s pack, but they had been the same to abandon him, to leave him alone and defenseless, ripe for the king’s taking. Deserving of this fate, then. How could they feign such adoration for each other while acting so cruel towards such a lovely, obeisant creature? Ouja stepped into the small clearing with a mirthful chuckle in his throat, pleased to hear Inu echo with a louder one of his own, and even more pleased to hear the wretched noises of despair the slayers made. Especially that girl, the apparent leader, the one staring at Ouja as if the sight of him completely broke her heart. The one with the hanafuda earrings. So strangely familiar…
“Beautiful evening we are having,” Ouja said cordially. One of the male slayers, the one with a mask of a boar upon his head, made a grating sort of growling noise in response. Inu returned with one of his own, though it tapered off afterwards into a tickled giggle. His pet was always so good humored, after all. “I do hope you’ll put up a good fight tonight. Inu has much to learn in the ways of the hunt.”
“Inu?” The hanafuda girl spat. Ouja scowled at her. Inu scoffed, though the tone was wounded.
“Do you have a problem with his name?” Ouja demanded of the girl, and glanced back to his beautiful pet. Inu blinked slowly at him, though two of his eyes remained focused on the humans. “I thought I named him quite well—do you not agree?” He turned back to the girl, who only gripped her blue sword and edged into a poised stance, as if planning to attack. Foolhardy, then.
“What are you doing, Tanjiro?” She asked. Ouja snarled at her, that name doing painful things to his mind, his blood. Foul human. “What is this?”
Another low noise from the suddenly aggravated Ouja, but he abandoned the conversation with the girl then. His gaze turned towards Inu and sent a shiver down his spine. Inu met it happily, always eager for more of his king’s sight, though he was sure to not remove his attention from the slayers either. He remembered that from Ouja’s verbal instructions before: never let your guard down near a slayer.
“Take your pick of the men,” Ouja told Inu, and a new chill seized his bones—a shock of cold that curled into a blazing inferno within seconds, raging hot and eager for flesh betwixt his teeth, “but leave the girl with me. Good hunting, my pet.”
Inu did not need to echo the remark. He knew that Ouja, in turn, knew he meant it too. Good hunting, my king.
Then, he was away.
The men turned tail and set Inu on a chase immediately, which pleased Ouja greatly. Inu would do well to run amok and hunt them down. Stretch his legs and lungs, as it were. Ouja had kept him so bundled up inside, he knew it, just as he knew how important a precaution that was. Particularly with the way this girl was still staring at him, he knew it important. What would she do to his pet, he wondered, were she to catch him again? Mutilate him? Bully and abuse and rip him apart? Destroy him only to leave him alone again? Why, he’d never allow such a thing!
“You did not answer my earlier question,” Ouja told the girl, stepping purposefully towards her. Inu’s blood tree quavered and relaxed as he passed it, twitching once towards the girl but otherwise falling still again. Supplicant. Ouja draped a hand over it before moving onwards, studying the way the girl recoiled and frowned at the affection he gave it.
“And what question was that?” She still responded, apparently keen enough to entertain her disgust and the conversation.
“That of my pet’s name,” Ouja said. “I asked if you find issue with it, and you instead assaulted my ears. Would you care to try again?”
“You named him ‘dog’,” the girl said, rather curtly, “of course I find issue with it.”
Ouja frowned and kept walking forward. The girl began to retreat, carving a deliberate path backwards, circling around Inu’s tree to keep Ouja at bay. Clever indeed—if still foolish.
“Do you not like dogs?” Ouja asked. The girl scowled.
“What?”
“Do you not like dogs?” Ouja repeated, slower this time, to appeal to her equally slow human brain. Clever, but human. Mortal. “Is that your issue? I personally find them quite darling, just as I find my beloved Inu.”
“If he is so beloved to you, then you wouldn’t have turned him into a demon,” the girl snapped.
Demon.
An interesting word, Inu could not help but think. Why would his king put such a strange word into his mind, and at this time as well? He was busy with the male slayers at the moment, unable to fully see and understand whatever conversation Ouja must have gotten into. He was busy practicing, exactly as his king had brought him out here to do.
The slayers were definitely entertaining exercise, if also a bit infuriating. They worked unfortunately well together, luring Inu one way before duping him out towards another. He was learning quickly though, catching onto their feints, realizing when they were about to switch places, or attempt one of those odd attacks on him.
Was that the magic of slayers, the style Ouja had so cryptically warned him about ages ago, when he was still young and dumb? His king had cautioned him greatly on the human warriors who carried colored blades and made those same colors with their breath. Were these strange thunderous booms and snarling slashes those very same powers? How curious. What was the point? To prolong their pitiful lives? Inu watched the boar-head slayer closely as they ran side-by-side, studying the way air hissed from his snouted nose and billowed like steam in the air around him. He was the particularly bothersome one of the pair—and he was about to lunge, Inu realized, giggling as he watched the tantalizing flex of muscle beneath the human’s skin, but giggling even more as he slipped a drop of blood to his fingertip, equally as prepared to ensnare him before he could dodge away again.
A good tactic, Ouja knew. He’d have to remember to praise his pet on the strategy later. He already had such a good grasp on his blood art, despite being still so new to it—he deserved praise for that.
Not that this girl thought so, calling him that cruel and incorrect name. Demon. He spat on the ground when she uttered that word, despising the smell of it.
“Demons are weak,” he told her and stalked forward several more steps. Inu and his hunt was behind him now, but that had to be okay. His pet was handling himself well so far—surely he could manage until Ouja was done here. “They are useless. They cannot do even the most simple of tasks. Not like my Inu. He is perfect.”
“You used to pity demons,” the girl countered, still speaking in that lilting intonation: aggrieved, as if she knew and hated him. Preposterous. He would never associate with someone so…pathetic, much less let them live if he’d had the misfortune of encounter. If anything, he should be the one despising her. Did she even have any idea what she had done to poor Inu? Did she know Ouja had saved him? Was she intent to blame him for that salvation?
“Pity is an apt word,” Ouja still agreed, regardless of the distaste this conversation left in his mouth. “They are like you: talentless and easily killed.
“Then why aren’t you killing me?”
Ouja clicked his tongue and shook his head. “What good would killing you do right now?” He responded, chuckling under his breath. How silly. “I’d much rather have fun before supper. I’d rather enjoy your death, little girl, than expedite it.”
It did not appear, however, that the girl believed him. Her pink eyes widened and the stance of her sword lowered slightly, her berry-esque smell contorting with conflict and confusion.
“You don’t want to kill me,” she whispered, voice awed, and Ouja bared his teeth at her, “do you, Tanjiro?”
Why did she keep saying that name? Inu swore he recognized it somewhere, swore he had heard it some time before, but when could he have? He’d never heard it from his king’s lips, had he? He could not remember.
Nor did it pertain to him at the moment. He was still busy.
He flicked his droplet of blood directly into the boar slayer’s path as he attempted one of those feinting dodges, rather proud of himself to see the tree erupt and bloom around him. He shouted something Inu could not understand as the thick branches wound over his limbs and torso. Some of them must have punctured his flesh as well, for a spurt of blood drizzled from his mask, accompanied by a gargling snarl. Inu laughed heartily, more than pleased at the result, and skipped up to kneel in front of him. The slayer thrashed around best he could while so confined, but that only made him bleed more, so he could not stop Inu as he took hold of the animal mask and tugged it off to reveal a rather pretty face—pretty, but still mortal, and soon to die.
“Hello,” Inu cooed at the human face now sneering at him. Blood poured over his curled lips and dripped onto Inu’s tree, the scent heady. Inu swiped a finger into the droplets and licked it up. It tasted thick, musky, feverish. He grinned. “I have a question for you—what’s a demon?”
“You,” the slayer spat, splattering blood over his face with the word. Inu giggled and licked that up too.
“No, stupid, I am Inu,” he corrected, and laughed again, unlike Ouja, who was steadily losing a battle to his waxing frustration. He stalked further forwards, corralling the Hanafuda girl further backwards, though she still did not run. She held her ground bravely. Idiotically.
“Why would I not want to kill you?” He demanded of her. “You keep speaking as if you know me—”
“I do know you,” she crassly interrupted, and Ouja snarled again. “I know you pushed everything down until it exploded. I know you never let yourself take what you wanted—that’s why you took Genya, isn’t it?” Ouja hissed at her, head pounding at that new damnable name. “Because you wanted him, and you wouldn’t let yourself have that before.”
“There you go with more fucking nonsense,” he growled. “I only saved who you cast aside—who is this Genya?”
“Yes, who is he?” Inu echoed. “Who is Genya?”
The boar slayer’s eyes widened slightly, a sharp relief of confusion against his animalistic fury. “You,” he repeated again, though without the same ferocity as before. His bloodied lips opened, preparing to say something more—maybe an explanation to his very odd response? Hadn’t Inu already told him he was Inu?—but then his big eyes flicked to see over Inu’s shoulder, and Inu realized his mistake:
He let his guard down.
Oh, surely it would be fine! He twisted to see the gold-eyed slayer, midair with his sword swinging to strike. He would hit Inu’s throat, but that was alright! Ouja could not die from such a wound, so surely he’d never let—
“INU!” Ouja screamed. His voice bellowed through the entire forest, shaking into the trees and soil and bones of the slayers. He bolted from the girl in a blink, turning around and bounding towards his beloved pet—his Inu who was only seconds away from destruction. The girl shouted something after him, but he paid her no mind; his attention was fixed on the yellow slayer, on the sword ready to decapitate, on the horror of his face as Ouja grabbed his skull in hand. His sword slipped from his grasp the moment Ouja had hold of him and his head cracked when he slammed it into the nearest tree, smearing blood over the bark. Ouja leaned in, teeth bared to bite, slit-pupils meeting dazed gaze and mouth spitting the last words he’d ever hear:
“Fucking human.”
“Ouja-a-a,” Inu whined, despite seeing his king’s obvious preparation for execution—hand raised, nails sharp, teeth ready to rip the thing apart. “I was playing with that!”
“Play time is done,” Ouja snapped, really rather harshly, which was quite unlike him. Inu pouted. The slayer trapped in his blood art began to writhe and scream obscenities, which was also quite rude. Inu grabbed his hair and smashed his head down onto his tree, grinning when it shut him up.
“Yes, it is, so let him go,” added a new voice—that damn girl. Ouja glared over his shoulder at her, the face of her comrade still in his grip, still pinned against the tree, still seconds from death—
Or he would be, if it weren’t for where she held her sword: outstretched, grazing against Inu’s throat, ready to decapitate.
Fucking humans.
Inu giggled more and leaned against the blade, laughing louder when it sliced into his skin, though Ouja's chest tightened at the innocent action. Innocent Inu. “Go on!” He egged, unaware of the danger, unaware of Ouja’s clenching jaw, fighting to keep the exposing admission at bay. The girl’s face contorted at Inu’s amusement, turning into something unceremoniously distraught. “My king cannot die like this—you think he will allow me to?!”
“Your king…?” She echoed mournfully, but it was Ouja’s response that made Inu pause—or, specifically, his lack of response. He turned to look at his king again, who in turn kept staring at the girl, fury and loathing burning in his eyes but his muscles taut with no sign of intent to move. Was he…resigning?
“I could kill you all before you could do the same,” he spat at her, but he still did not move. In reply, the girl pressed her blade closer, slicing Inu thinly. He winced and hissed at the feeling. It…hurt. It burned. That wasn’t right, what was going on!? Ouja would never be vulnerable like this!
“Do you really want to chance it?” The girl taunted. Inu whimpered and looked over to Ouja. Ouja’s eyes flared bigger, lips quivering on the edge of a snarl—and then he let go.
He stepped away from the yellow slayer and let him crumple to the ground. He fell limp with a weak cry, apparently still alive. Ouja did not move any further. The girl upheld her end immediately at least, so apparently some part of her was honorable. She removed her blade from Inu’s throat to set him free, though she too remained exactly where she stood. Too damn clever, and so very cruel.
“Get up, Inu,” Ouja ordered, keeping his eyes on the bitch who’d dared to hurt him. Inu whined petulantly, but he obeyed anyway, standing and slinking behind Ouja. His chin nestled atop Ouja’s hair and nuzzled him affectionately. Normally, Ouja would shift and return the gesture, but he refrained this time. He took a step backwards instead, and narrowed his eyes.
“You have made a grave mistake tonight,” he warned the Hanafuda girl.
She set her jaw squarely and raised her chin to him. “You are protecting whom you love,” she said plainly, “and I am doing the same. Take your pet and go, Your Majesty.”
“This is not over.”
“I did not expect it to be.”
Ouja huffed, but he didn’t entertain the banter any longer. He had a pet to care for.
“Let us go, Inu,” he said, then turned and began walking away. Inu stalled a moment longer, whiny protests slurring in the air, but he followed along when Ouja gave him a sharp look.
He couldn’t help a wayward glance behind him as they left, though, peeking over his shoulder to see the girl. She rushed to aid her companions, he saw, sword back in its scabbard and all pretense of strength cast aside, replaced instead with obvious panic and care. She only looked up the brief moment before Inu disappeared. Her pink eyes widened as they met his, almost sad in a way. Almost like how Ouja had looked at him on occasion.
She did look awfully like his king, didn’t she?
~
“Let me see your throat,” Ouja commanded, only once they’d made it back to the mansion they called home. He beckoned Inu towards him, kneeling on the ground and ushering his pet into his lap.
“I am alright, Ouja,” Inu tittered, though he happily laid his head on Ouja’s thighs all the same, allowing him to inspect the skin of his throat. A soft purr rumbled in his throat at the touches he provided and all four of his eyes closed serenely, clearly content to be cradled by his king.
Sure enough, as he had promised, he was unharmed. The small nick that bitch had carved into him had easily healed, despite the sun-soaked blade it’d been made with. Good.
“What did I warn you about before we left?” Ouja asked. Anger bubbled in his chest now that his worry had been satiated, and he grabbed a fistful of Inu’s hair, yanking his head sharply to the side to see him. Inu’s eyes shot open at once, all widening and lifting to focus on Ouja at the punishing grip. He pouted slightly, but sighed, knowing full well his transgression.
“To not let my guard down around slayers,” he moaned pathetically.
“And what did you do?”
“Let my guard down…”
Ouja tutted ruefully, though he lessened his grasp all the same. Inu shifted off his lap, picking himself up to kneel in front of Ouja, head bowed in penance. Ouja petted his hair at the gesture, the small and gentle touch a sign the only sign of his acceptance and forgiveness. Inu’s purrs began again immediately, recognizing this.
“You are not like me, my pet,” Ouja whispered. He traced his fingers though Inu’s long locks, ensuring to drag his nails across the nape of his neck as he went, teasing him in that way that always earned a lovely shiver. “Do you understand what those swords are made of?”
Inu shook his head slowly. Ouja sighed.
“The sun is in that metal,” he explained. “You cannot withstand the sun, so you cannot withstand a beheading from those swords.”
“I did not know,” Inu whined. Ouja couldn’t help a small laugh at the troubled noise. He scooped his fingers under Inu’s chin and lifted his head to see, smiling when those four eyes focused on him.
“Now you do,” he said quietly, and scratched one fingernail under his pet’s jaw, eager for the way the corners of Inu’s mouth curled at the affection and two of his eyes fluttered closed. “Do not let it happen again, understood? I will not lose you to those fucking humans.”
“I understand,” Inu rumbled before pushing forward, nudging past Ouja’s touch and tumbling against him. His face buried itself against his neck, sharp teeth grazing across the skin there, and Ouja laughed again.
He would take Inu out for another hunt soon, he decided. After all, he’d barely been able to practice and hone his abilities with what little time they’d been granted that night, and his darling pet was still so very hungry. Someone had to feed him, something ripe and rich to satisfy his craving—something like that yellow-haired slayer, with the overwhelmingly thick scent of his spilt blood. He’d be a hindrance to his pack now with that injury, useless as a fighter, unless they so wished to devote time and attention to him. Unlikely, considering how cruel and unjust that bitch appeared to be. If the way she treated Inu was anything to go by, that slayer would be out of luck by the next day.
In other words: a perfect meal.