Chapter Text
Giyuu's POV:
The snow howls like it knows what happened here.
It whips past my ears, bites through my uniform, fills every exposed space like it's trying to bury me alive. It’s loud, violent—but beneath it, I hear something else. Something softer. Wet, broken.
A cry.
I pause.
There’s blood in the air. Too much. Human blood—sweet and sharp. It stains the snow in violent splashes like someone took a brush to the world and painted over it in red.
Bodies are buried under white mounds. The storm’s trying to erase what happened. But it can’t fool me. I see the limbs sticking out. Fingers. Toes. A mouth, frozen open.
I step over them and keep moving.
The cry gets louder.
It’s not just a cry. It’s a call. Pitched. Young. Not a child’s tantrum—but something deeper. Instinctual. A beta, maybe. No… a pup. Tiny. Raw. Reaching for someone who isn’t answering.
My stomach knots.
The urge to find them—whoever they are—claws at my chest. I grit my teeth. Focus. There’s a pressure in the air, thick and bitter. Something dark is waiting ahead. My hand tightens around my blade.
And then I see him.
Standing in the middle of the storm like it belongs to him. Blood on his hands. His mouth.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
Demon King.
I stop breathing.
The weight of his presence crashes into me like a wall of stone and rot. My knees nearly buckle. Every instinct screams run, but the crying—that cry—echoes just beyond him. I can’t leave.
“Well, well… What did Ubuyashiki send me today?”
His voice is velvet wrapped around poison.
I don’t answer.
My mouth is dry. My lips are cracked. The words die before they form. He chuckles, stepping aside slightly—and I see her.
A girl.
Small, trembling. Blood streaked down her face, crusted in her hair. She’s cradling something wrapped in a cloth that’s so soaked through with blood I can’t tell if the baby inside is breathing.
She’s not crying.
She’s calling.
“Mama. Mama. Brother…Mama.”
Each word is weaker than the last.
Something breaks in my chest.
“Look at her,” Muzan says, circling me like a shark. “Calling for a family that’s already rotting. I could grant her one. A new family. Loyal. Obedient. Mine.”
He laughs—like this is a game.
My hand twitches toward my blade, but he’s too close. Too fast.
“But you,” he purrs, stepping closer. “You’re fascinating. So tense. So restrained. And yet… underneath all that water Hashira discipline, I smell something else. I smell instinct.”
He leans in, claw grazing the underside of my jaw.
“I smell omega.”
My breath hitches.
“You want to go to her, don’t you?” he whispers. “Pick her up. Soothe her. Protect her. Rip me apart with your teeth. That’s what you really want.”
I snap.
The blade slices across his forearm in a blur. He hisses, claws lashing out and sending me flying into the snow. My ribs crack. My breath leaves me in a rush. But I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I stagger to my feet, blood dripping from my lips. My body wants to fall. My instincts want to run to that child. But my duty won’t let me move. Not yet. Not while he’s standing.
Muzan wipes his arm, inspecting the wound with a scowl.
“Still so stubborn,” he mutters. “Even broken.”
Then I feel it.
The air shifts.
Heavy.
Sweet.
Wrong.
His pheromones hit like a freight train—Alpha, but not aggressive. Not claiming. Submissive. Manipulative.
My eyes widen.
My lungs seize.
My scent glands flare without consent—responding. My muscles lock. My instincts scream confusion, recognition. My body shivers and wants to fold.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he coos. “Or your pup. You don’t have to fight.”
His scent is in my head. Slick and sticky like sap. I blink hard, trying to push through it, but it’s choking me from the inside out. My sword arm lowers.
Behind him, the girl stirs.
She’s alive.
She lifts her head weakly and whimpers. Her eyes find mine.
And that’s all it takes.
I slam my blade into the ground to anchor myself. I grit my teeth so hard I feel something crack in my jaw.
“You won’t have her.”
The words crawl out of my throat like gravel, but they’re solid. Final.
“You won’t have any of them.”
Muzan watches me—expression unreadable.
Then, like smoke, he’s gone.
Just the scent remains—sickly sweet, burned into the snow.
I fall to my knees.
The wind howls again.
But now, I hear her more clearly.
“Mama… please… mama…”
I push myself to my feet, one shaky breath at a time.
I will not run.
I will not fail her.
Not today.