Tomorrow's Shadow [Demon Slayer x Reader]

by smolsheep

Summary:

You've been...wondering. There are rumors in the village and bloody clues in dark corners- but that's just wishful thinking. You changed your name, cut your hair, and work in a foreign bookshop under the guise of a boy, one of many lies you've woven to keep yourself safe in this oddly familiar world. You're probably better off wondering. It would be pretty bad to have been reincarnated into Demon Slayer, right?

Notes:

Demon Slayer belongs to Koyoharu Gotouge.
This is cross-posted from Quotev.com @AnIntrovert if you want faster updates and more content.

Chapter 1: The End of Luck

The bell jingles as your last costumer leaves. A beautiful starry sky has befallen the day, but Tokyo remains bright with lanterns and chatter.

"Getting lazy, huh? You've got time to stretch? Then you need to work harder!" A cane flies down on your head from behind, but you've learned to dodge Boss's blows over the years. "Ah!? Is this a sign of disrespect, you insufferable boy!?"

"No, Boss." You bow. "It's just closing time, and I was bending to pick up the key, you see?" Your palm opens to reveal the key you were 'bending to pick up.'

"Eh...?" Boss's bushy gray eyebrows kiss as he studies your face. "...bah. You've always been a hard one to read. Well! Then go close the door, you lazy bum!" He swats you away while you do as he bids with a polite smile all the while.

'I can't wait to go home and take off these chest bindings.' You have to stifle a groan while locking the door and flipping the open sign. You worked well over thirteen hours today and only had one break at lunchtime. Boss isn't a bad person, but he loves money more than life itself and asking him to hire a couple new hands would be like asking him to choke his newborn child.

So it's just you in this cozy bookstore. Not that you really mind. It's always just been you and Boss.

"C'mon! You saw I could read English! I even know a little of some other languages- so why won't you hire me!?"

"'Cause you're a tiny brat! Only boys can work at bookstores!"

That was from way back when you were still living in Okutama- the town you'd luckily stumbled across after being reincarnated onto a mountain in the dead of winter with no family, friends, or home to speak of. You hated begging and needed a job. The local foreign bookstore needed a new hire. 

Determined, you showed up the next day with badly chopped hair and a mask ripped from your kimono to cover your lower face. Boss looked down his big, nobbily nose at you for a long moment then asked your name.

"...Shin." 

"Shin? How do you spell it?"

"真."

"...don't that mean 'true'?"

"...yeah."

You got the job. Under a false name that literally means "truth." When he decided to move to Tokyo, you- with nowhere and no one else to go to- followed.

"Take these to the back, boy!" A huge thunk sounds behind you, and you can only imagine the giant box of scrolls and books he just dumped on the counter. Your face curves itself into a perfect smile, and you obey quietly.

"Be safe going home." You call while walking out the door.

"Idiot! I live above the shop. I doubt you forgot from all the times you leeched off me and made me house you!"

'I remember asking to stay and you agreeing under the condition I get no pay. I was literally twelve-years-old and barely had enough for groceries. And It was only the coldest days of winter. This money-pinching geezer- '

"Well, you might fall down the stairs. You know. Age." A pinch of passive-aggressiveness slips into your voice. However, it's too deeply covered by the monotone alto you use to mask your real voice for him to hear.

"Hmph." He grunts, and you walk out the door.

Life is starting to become comfortable.

You have a job, make just enough money for groceries every week, and own two kimonos. With a carefully composed disposition, a monotone color to your demeanor that gives the illusion of masculinity, you've been able to fit in perfectly. Slip yourself into a world that you have no prepared place in. A world you're still trying to understand.

'I wonder...' You think with no real intensity. You've always wondered, and beginning to believe you always will wonder. 'I wonder what world this is.'

A Chinese silk fabric shop makes you stop. In the front, there is row of beautiful veils. Gently, your fingertips feel your own worn veil hanging from your nose and ears. It's so old you can almost see through it now...

'I've saved up enough to buy one, but the last time I went in they kept asking why.' You frown indecisively. They're well-meaning women, but their subtle attempts to trick you into removing your veil did not go unnoticed by you. Even now, while you're stuck in thought, the two young daughters of the shop-owner giggle while pointing and sketching their fantasies about your lower face.

"Now, leave Jin-san alone." The Chinese lady scolds her daughters.

"But, Maaa!"

"He's so mysterious and intelligent, we can't help it!"

"He's probably just insecure. You shouldn't fall for such shallow things as looks." The Chinese lady shakes her head and snatches the sketch away from them. She must admit, though, while secretly glancing between her daughter's work and their muse, pondering something in the middle of the street, it's hard to imagine you have anything ugly to hide when your whole personality revolves around being composed and gentle. You also appear to have a sort of underlying...prettiness. She shakes her head again.

You don't notice your audience, but you've noticed in general you don't quite fit into Japan's typical Taisho era boy. While customs and traditions are easy to learn, imitating roughness and shutting in vulnerable emotions gets tiring.

You don't regret hiding your gender. Rationally, it makes sense in your situation. If you were a girl right now, you certainly wouldn't be working as a bookshop keeper and studying to become a scholar in medicine. No, you'd probably be a housemaid in the village, or- worst case scenario- forced into human trafficking. You're lucky, and you know it. Out of desperation, you made a choice and it's served you well. Still...

It's random times, like this, that you wonder what living without a mask would feel like.

Your clicking sandals mix with the crowd's as you make your way to a produce stand, near closing time. You don't even notice that you're briefly analyzing each person that you pass, or making mental notes on their interactions with each other and you. It's become second nature by now. Being too smart-mouthed, incompetent, dreamy, flashy, strong, weak- or much of anything- will make you stand out, and you've been trying from day one to do the very opposite.

So you watch, and you copy.

"Thank you. I know you usually close by now, so I appreciate you staying open for me." You bow to the produce seller. She nods her head in return.

"What a nice young man."

You smile gratefully and make your way back home.

Only- you never get there.

To be honest, you thought you'd been pretty lucky so far. Lucky enough to find a village when you were first reincarnated. Lucky enough to land a job with Boss. Lucky enough to know some Japanese in your old life. Lucky enough to even remember your old life- your loved ones- your home- your experiences- your anime.

'I wonder...'

That had been your first thought. You wondered and wondered and wondered until the wondering simply became a daily part of life, like breathing. Every day you awoke and laid eyes on this world, you wondered if you already knew it.

'I wonder if this world...'

It was unmistakably the Taisho era, and ghost stories ran rampant. You'd found old blood in corners and shadows on more than one occasion. Once- among the sea of brown and black hair- you'd even seen a head bobbing up and down that looked too familiar and too outlandish of a color to simply be a random stranger.

'I wonder if this world is Demon Slayer .'

You'd never seen any proof before. And that- above all else- had been the greatest luck of all.

Until now.

The sounds were strange, but among the bustle of people, you hardly noticed. They grew louder, though, as you grew closer. Each step you took slowed until you stopped. Right in front of an alleyway.

You stare ahead. Your home is the next door. It's familiar shabby exterior looks so nicely inviting, and your futon is waiting patiently for your return. The best part is the calico stray cat you've been feeding for the past couple years, staring at you with her big yellow eyes, urging you with an adorable smile to simply keep looking ahead. All you have to do is take another step, and whatever is down that alleyway will never know you existed. You will never know it existed.

Then you hear a low, smooth voice.

The picture of comfort is lost the second you turn your head toward it.

There's a man. He's dressed in a Western style suit, satin black. His hat matches his outfit, as he leans closer to the mound of flesh at his feet. It's red. Red, red, red- but not nearly as red as his eyes. They poke out of the shadow obscuring the man's porcelain face as his delicate lips move- murmuring something no one should hear. A single curly black lock dangling on his cheek is all that separates his eyes and your wide, horrified, trembling, revolted, watery-

Relieved eyes.

It must be a crime, you think, to feel what you are feeling in this moment. 

There he is- Muzan Kibutsuji- in the flesh. Your proof.

Your memories are not fake or made up imaginations of a lonely, lost girl. You really were reincarnated, and you really did have a past life.

Memories of his red eyes circle your mind as memories of different eyes and people materialize. His past, his present, his future- you know it all, and for a moment, forgetting that there's a bloody corpse beneath him, you can't help but smile. Finally- here is a puzzle you've already solved. A being you don't have to analyze for once. Somebody familiar. 

A wind lifts your veil for a moment, revealing your smile.

'I know you.' Is what splits your lips and curves them upward in a smile that is certainly not composed nor gentle. It's a smile that recognizes every horrific deed he's ever done and knows every horrific deed he plans to commit- yet shines anyway. Because he has given you your proof. He has become your anchor to reality. 

He is the end of your luck.

'I should probably go now.' You turn quietly from years of practicing and make your way home, as if you could actually ever make it. 

If your fate wasn't already sealed upon seeing the main antagonist of Demon Slayer , then the following second would make sure of it.

A little mosquito a couple seconds previous had landed on your exposed neck- a normal occurrence in the summer. After a little twitching and crawling, it plunges its tiny needle into your neck just as you take your first and last step toward home.

At the sudden prick, you shake your head, correctly stifling any sound of discomfort, though it be entirely in vain. The mosquito flew away, leaving a drop of blood on your neck at the same time a disgusting squelching sound comes from the alleyway.

The spray of blood- partly human and partly demon- extends only a couple meters on the ground, staining it red. But in the air suddenly blows a draft, carrying the mist of red just a little farther- just enough to reach the alley's exist. The race of tiny rubies quickly ends as each dips to the ground at gravity's beckoning, hardly changing the ground's color on impact, but- as your luck would have it- the lightest, smallest, most miniscule dot of blood catches the very last wheeze of air.

It floats no faster than a speck of dust.

Your wound is smaller than a needle prick.

And yet- and yet -

It lands. Right. On. You.

You freeze. Despite it being less than a drop- despite it only just touching your blood- you immediately feel the fire . All your efforts of staying quiet are immediately ruined as you drop to the ground in a loud rustle of clothes and gagging sounds. Not that you care right now. Your neck- your eyes- your chest- everything is burning . You want to claw your skin off. You want to scream. You want it to stop.

"Hahh..... hahh... " You wheeze, wishing if only you had the strength to rip your lungs out.

Haha. Hahaha. HahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

This is it. This is what you've been wanting- craving even- for as long as you've been alive. To know what world you've been reincarnated into. There are so many beautiful people, humans and demons alike. It's a dangerous bloody world, but in the darkest moments the light of good always seems all the more stunning.

You thought if you could find out what world you'd been reincarnated into you could fully appreciate it and the new life you've been given. Knowing you lived in such a fatally unforgiving place, would have made you all the more grateful for your peaceful existence, even if a portion of it would always be fake.

You didn't want to get involved.

Not this- you don't want this . Sobbing, writhing, feeling everything that made you human stripped violently away as something glowing red watches you through your tears. It hurts. It burns. It's unbearably cold.

With less than a drop of blood, your little stream of life has been dammed and turned a saturated, violent shade of red.

It hurts...it hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts-

And then it doesn't.

You gasp. Your eyes snap open. Everything is a swirling mess of colors, sounds, and smells- smells...

What is that smell ?

It's so...sweet. And strong. No bakery, restaurant, or food has ever smelled so good. A dull ache suddenly grips your stomach.

"That was quick." A deep, velvety voice hums next to your ear.

Faster than you ever thought you could move, you jump away, landing in the comforting darkness of the alleyway. Everything is still so overwhelming- especially that sticky, sweet aroma- but one thing remains in focus.

Muzan Kibutsuji.

'I have to run.' The thought overrides everything else, including the ache in your stomach.

"Oh- eh- " You mask everything with a gentle smile as natural as breathing, "I'm so sorry for intruding." You bow deeply. "I-I swear I won't say anything, so- so please I beg that you- "

One second you're bowed, the next your head is slammed into the wall as blood squirts out from everywhere.

"Lord Kibutsuji!" Even your voice has blood in it. "Have mercy- " 

Tears leak from your eyes as excruciating pain throbs through your skull. 

"So weak..." His indifferent voice barely reaches your ringing ears. "And yet...you know my name."

A chill runs down your spine.

"How do you know my name?"

Your mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish about to be gutted.

Yeah, genius, how do you know his name?

You of all people shouldn't know Muzan's name. You're just a nameless human who has never seen a demon, never heard of the Demon Core, and should know nothing of the Demon King. What do you say to that? You can't say were reincarnated knowing everything that will happen in the near future because you watched a Japanese anime called Demon Slayer . Not only would you sound stupid- you'd be better just dying. If even the faintest whisper of the future were to meet the ears of this monster-

You suddenly feel like vomiting.

"Hm." Is the last thing you hear before pain suddenly erupts in through every inch of your body.

It's like each of your blood vessels is about to explode from vibrating.

'What blood technique is this...?' You think somewhere in the midst of your mind as it screams for release. For death even. But it doesn't matter what you want. All that matters is what he wants.

"I- I- " your voice fights through your crushed throat and bleeding lungs, "I saw a demon once- ah- he- he killed my- my parents! But he mentioned- mentioned a name- "

"My name?" He sounds the exact opposite of you. Rich, collected, dangerous.

"Mm..." 

Are you going to die? Why haven't you died? Whatever he did to first make every molecule of your body burst into agonizing pain feels as though it should of killed you. You should look like the man underneath Muzan's shiny white shoes- dead. Past that- your skull is crushed- you can feel it- your left lung has burst- you can definitely feel that.

You can also feel yourself healing.

"What a careless piece of vermin."

'Me? Or the fake demon I told you about?' Your eyes widen as you remember Muzan can read minds. 'Wait! No, no, no, no- '

His soul-sucking red eyes are boring into your barely slit-open (e/c) ones, narrowed and sharp- but they're moving- just barely- between your left and right eye. Again, and again- as if he's trying to understand you.

Maybe- maybe you're wrong. Maybe you didn't feel a speck of his blood enter you, and maybe you're really still human-

"You're my demon now." His words crush your chest more than your ruined lung ever could. "And yet you have such little blood the intricacies of your thoughts are too quiet to be heard."

You almost let yourself breathe.

"But I can still tell you're lying."

'Crap.' Is all you think before his ice cold hand grabs your shoulder and rips .

It's just pain now. You feel like a lifetime has been thrown between you and your cozy home. A quiet heaven is just around the corner. Your hand reaches pitifully toward it as your kimono- the new one you bought a couple years ago- soaks in a mixture of your blood and the dead man's carnage.

It's just pain- and that scent that sweet, sweet smell of blood. 

"Why don't you eat?" His voice brushes your ear again. "You're still weak, so it would take a couple days, but all of this..." He pokes a finger into the shattered part of your skull, making you scream. "...would be gone."

You gasp as his hand forces your face into the bloody ground. With hardly more than a touch.

"How lucky you are." He says as your eyes dilate and your mouth waters. "Just the state of being a demon immediately makes you superior than a human. Even something as weak as you- " He's completely immobilized you with his pinky as if to prove his point, "-is still capable of far greater things than you could ever achieve as a mortal. So, my new creation...how does it taste?"

You've been biting your lips with such frustration as to coat your mouth with blood. It's disgusting in comparison to the mouth-watering aroma right in front of your nose but-

~

A young demon girl with black hair and orange tips stares with striking pink eyes at an arm covered in blood being offered to her. Wounds in her shoulder and stomach burn as she stares at him and drools with hunger and anger. She has every reason to attack- out of her bloodthirst and revenge. Everyone watches.

She turns her head.

She may be a demon, but she is also Nezuko Kamado. A kind girl with her brother's love for others.

She will never taste a human.

~

You turn your head.

Muzan's eyes widen by a fraction of a hair.

The insolence of asking for mercy, speaking his name without him giving it or permission, then daring to lie straight to his face all pales in comparison to what you've just done.

"I see I have wasted my time." His pupils are thinner than needles. "You will now die. " 

"Thank you!" You cry- mind running faster than your new demon speed as you lunge for every crumb you ever consumed in your past life about Muzan Kibutsuji. A memory just now- about a Lower Rank demon- the one who survived Muzan's purging- flashes before your eyes. He thanked the Demon King.

After realizing you aren't dead yet, you realize he was on the right track.

"I- I've been looking for you my whole life." It's not a lie, if not the complete truth. You've been looking, since coming to life, for a character from Demon Slayer to confirm your suspicions. You just never thought it would be this character. "My old village was superstitious, so I grew up believing in demons. B-but you see," you turn your head- much farther than it should be capable of- until you can see his burning red eyes.

There's not a trace of emotion anywhere on his face as your eyes find themselves fixed on his perfect features. You can't look away. You can hardly speak. A tinge of reverence enters your voice as you whisper, "I also believed in a demon above all others. Their creator, ruler, and pinnacle. Someone so powerful he could conquer the sun."

He finally tilts his head.

Then his hand is flying at your face, and you're sure you're dead, you're sure the last thing you'll see is this monster's red eyes trying to bore themselves into your soul, you're sure you'll never get to see the kind, warm eyes of Tanjiro, or his sister's beautiful pink ones, or Zenitsu's golden ones, or-

A soft palm cups your cheek.

You dare not breathe, trembling from head to toe as his cold hand holds you for a single eternity. 

"Your eyes..." He finally murmurs, sliding a thumb to the skin right under your left eye. "...are hardly changed. How disappointing." His fingers glide to your soft lips and pry them open with no resistance. As his index finger rubs your pointy canines, you feel a hot flush of shame wash over you. He's treating you like a dog at a dog show. Prodding and measuring you until he is fully dissatisfied.

He finally stands up then gestures to the corpse.

"He was a failure. Feast."

It's not an invitation. It's a command, and a test wrapped in one.

How do you pass? 

Once again, your mind whirls. His red eyes watch you, and you- in turn- watch him. 

The old tale of the wolf and the lamb. The wolf waits for the lamb to look away so he can bite, and the lamb waits for the wolf to look away so she can run. There's not much time left. Somebody will have heard your screaming by now and will be coming to investigate. Muzan is a meticulous, bloodthirsty person, so either he'll leave before that happens, or he'll kill the person.

You'd very much like the former of the two to happen.

You can't be the lamb. You can't run from this. So you take a gambit and pretend to be a wolf.

Slowly, your body leans over the corpse all the while Muzan stares down his sharp nose, and you stare up at him through your lashes. He watches your hand- so shaky, so weak- take a scoop of flesh and bring it to your watering mouth. Your jaw moves as you chew it- a light brightening your face as you taste the sweetness of blood. You swallow then stand and brush your dirty kimono.

"Thank you." You dip your head, but not low enough to force your eyes away.

"You will not eat more?" His black locks dangle across his face as he tilts his head.

"Being in your presence has filled me enough. But if you wish, I will feast more." You lie.

Your voice is small or maybe Muzan is used to your shrill begging. Your shivering body, fidgeting hands, and shrunken posture makes you look so... submissive. A perfect visual for a demon almost certainly at the very bottom of the hierarchy. However...

You're...looking at him. Your eyes stare straight into his- a perfect reflection of the Demon Lord filling their untouched (e/c) pools. Those eyes... they're not simply looking at him, they're attempting to absorb him into their (e/c) depths- something only he is allowed to do.

Don't you know nobody is allowed to look at him? Don't you understand the only thing worth your existence is cowering underneath him, like a worm? It's all he can do to keep from sneering at your utterly respectless actions.

A thought makes him stop.

"You say you have been searching for...me. Your entire life."

Your permanently wide (e/c) eyes hold no deception.

"There's an awful lot you must know to recognize me just from looking. Still- " He's behind you before you can think and wrapping a hand around your throat. Gently enough to crush your esophagus. "-you understand nothing ."

 

 

---

Taisho Era Meiji Period Secrets!

---

It's not the Taisho Era. MC is off by several years. This means she was born 10 years before Tanjiro.

Okutama is where the Kamados lived.

Without MC, Boss's female customers will lessen.

Chapter 2: A Napping Nuisance

You really don't know how long you've been here.

Well- here isn't quite the right word. That would insinuate that you have been in a particular place for unknown amount of time, which isn't quite right because the place you're in is always changing. Sometimes it's a private library illuminated by an expensive oil lamp- other times your eyes behold a moon from the balcony of crowded city of alcohol and sex- then there are times that you think you're surely back in your old district of Tokyo- only to find yourself in a kaleidoscope of traditional Japanese houses, never-ending, never-ceasing, and always changing.

It's always changing.

And you don't long you've been here.

Your body has slowly but surely healed. A crushed skull, crushed throat, crushed lungs, crushed blood vessels- Muzan must enjoy crushing you. He seems to be trying to crush your spirit right now. For whatever reason.

It's strange, really. You don't remember him paying much attention to any other demons. There was the Biwa Woman that he kept around, but she's useful. A tool.

You're as weak and useless as a wet tissue, yet Muzan has yet to dispose of you.

Today, the Demon Lord is a child. His red eyes locked on your figure are just as terrifying if not more unsettling in the body of a little boy. You've grown better at reading him. Just a look- and you're on your knees, holding your arms out obediently. His little feet step aboard your hands, and you raise him to the appropriate level to put his book away.

Every look, gesture, step, and breath you've memorized- stored away, so when he calls you without calling you, you don't face the consequence of missing it. Not that he needs a reason to punish you. He's so unpredictable it hurts. Even when you think you've begun to pick apart his habits and mentality, he'll thrust a jagged, gut-tearing obstacle in your path.

Like today- he leaves you in a courtesan house in Yoshiwara, Tokyo.

It's beautiful at night. In a way, the life and light it boasts reminds you of your busy city, but there's a veil, like the blood stained one on your face, concealing its real identity: a feeding ground.

"Oh, Lord Muzan." Daki's beautiful, creamy white face lays in the lap of the Demon King as he strokes her face. "I'm so happy you've come to visit me. It's been so boring."

"Have you been feasting well, my dear?"

Daki shivers with delight at the pet-name. "Yes! Oh, yes, my lord. I've eaten so many beautiful women- none as beautiful as me, of course." As if the thought of beautiful women could take her dear Lord Muzan away, she affectionately rubs her head against his hand all but purring- until she spots you in the corner. A shadow with blank (e/c) eyes.

She didn't notice you until now. Lord Muzan's incredible presence completely masked your less than impressive aura, but the second she lays eyes on you, she knows there's something wrong with you. Your dull (e/c) eyes never once look away from her Lord Muzan. It isn't like her to feel jealousy toward a man (especially one as dull and plain as you), but- what is that behind your blank irises? Boredom? Fear? Obsession? Love?

No, she thinks. Lord Muzan's male followers feel nothing but devotion to their lord. Love is out of the question.

So why does she hate you on sight?

"This is...ah." He turns to you, and Daki's nails dig into her palms as if looking at Lord Muzan's back is the equivalent of dying. "What should I call you?"

You'd usually have to mask a deadpan because this guy really didn't even try asking your name before deciding to give one to you, like you were some pet. But right now... it's hard to- to do anything. You're doing everything you can to keep your eyes peeled on Muzan.

'I'm so...hungry. Why am I hungry? Oh right...' You never actually tasted human flesh. That man's blood from once upon a time never actually entered your mouth. It was an old thieving technique you developed while living as a starving child in your old village. A simple switcheroo. By using a tomato you had bought at the market, stuffed up your kimono sleeve, you managed to let the fistful of human flesh fall into the open arm of your kimono while extracting the tomato in its place when Muzan was busy whispering in your ear, and biting that instead.

It's why it took so long for you to heal.

Not that you really know because your sense of time has been totally skewed.

'I wonder if I'm going to die.' You're constantly suppressing your body from trembling. Everything hurts. Your wrist from when Muzan snapped it after failing to provide him with the correct pen hasn't healed yet, and you're pretty sure even as a human it would have healed by now.

"I don't believe he's learned his place yet." That deep, rich voice brings you shivering back to reality. Your body's reaction is for a far different reason than Daki's, however.

"But- " Daki's brow twitches, "you said he's spent every second he's been a demon so far- in your mighty presence...and is still an insolent brat!?"

"Quiet." Muzan's finger touches her lip, instantly shutting her up. "And he is far from insolent. He is simply ignorant to power."

He stands, and your eyes widen. Swiftly as a breeze, you throw open the balcony door while whipping out his coat and hat in response. You have more speed as a demon, that is for sure.

For a second, Daki's eyes widen- but she immediately goes back to loathing you, so you don't really notice.

"Educate him while I am gone."

'Wait...gone?'

"Yes, Lord Muzan. It will be my pleasure."

'Gone?'

Without so much as a backward glance- he disappears.

"Aw, you gonna cry?" A high-pitched flute of a voice giggles menacingly in your ear.

Actually, yes. Your eyes remain dry, but the carefully carved expression on your face softens in every way possible- giving the illusion of falling when you're in actuality basking in relief. Whatever emotion Daki thinks she sees, is far from good in her standards, however.

Your hair is suddenly yanked, but you stifle any noise in your throat.

"Aren't you ashamed? A horrible, ugly, piece of of trash, shouldn't even be allowed to look in Lord Muzan's direction- yet all you've done since coming here was stare at him!"

A kick to your stomach sends you flying into the wall.

~

Bewitching features. An oiran of the highest honor. She values beauty above all else- something as a human she lived and died for.

"Someone as ugly as you- should just die!"

~

She's such a child. 

In comparison to the evil you bathe in every day until you feel like you're drowning in blood and gore- she's a breath of fresh air.

"You're a demon, so I guess I don't have to hold back, huh?" She starts clawing at your face, and you sit, like a doll in the corner as she uses you, like a cat clawing at an old couch. "Hm?" Her brief moment of happiness is interrupted when she realizes you're not even reacting. "So the little bastard thinks he's above me. Just for your information- I'm an Upper Six. Nobody here is above me."

"What about your brother?" You ask blankly.

She freezes, cat-eyes dilating. "How'd you- " she shakes her head, and her frown deepens. "Never mind. He's the same as me, so, like I said, there's no one here above me!" 

You get a harsh slap for that.

Even if you had the energy to try and fight back, you're severely lacking in strength. Just keeping your head attached is a Goliath of an effort. Your complacency has the opposite effect on her than it does Muzan, however, and just makes her angrier. That in addition to your little comment about her brother seems to be driving her insane.

"D-Daki-san?" A muffled voice quivers from the outside of her door, and something blooms in your chest at the sound of a human voice. It's been so long...

Something in your stomach churns, as well.

"What?" Daki snaps.

"U-um, customers will be coming soon, and we wanted to make sure...you were prepared."

"Of course." She rolls her eyes and stands from the bloody corner. After shooing them away, she sighs and wrinkles her nose in disgust her bloody nails. Her lemon eyes sour at the thought of leaving you in peace. "Gyutaro!"

This catches your attention.

From under your eyelashes dripping in blood and eyes hazy with hunger, you're blessed with the horrifying sight of a leathery skeleton emerging from the ethereal oiran's skin.

"Take care of her while I'm out."

~

Ugliness. Misfortune. Hatred. Gyutaro felt it all as a human, and it only grew as a demon. Vengeance on anyone who had a life better than his seemed like the only thing he craved.

"Hehe, disgraceful!" 

~

If you're being honest, you kind of liked him as a character.

He was so...pitiful.

It probably helped that he never actually managed kill anyone, unlike Akaza who killed Rengoku Kyojuro. And though he said some really horrible things to Tanjiro- his choice to toy with the young swordsman inevitably led to his and his sisters demise while saving everybody else.

The uncanny mirror between him and Tanjiro was just too real. Gyutaro and Daki were the reflections of a reality just barely different than Tanjiro's and Nezuko's.

He was a formidable, pyschotic opponent, but you sat on the edge of your seat, waiting for that flashback all the most pitiful souls got at the ends of their lives. And Gyutaro's certainly didn't disappoint. He was just a kid, really. No one taught him love or showed him mercy. How could he have ever been good when he had no idea what 'good' even meant?

He drew a bad hand. But that doesn't give him the right to hurt others just because they drew a better hand.

You think about this while he threads his deceptively bony hand into your hair and holds you in the air. His mouth moves, but you can't really hear anything he's saying. It's just his gleefully trembling voice, softening you mind with old memories of things to come.

Gyutaro waves a hand in front of your vacant face. You don't even blink.

"Hm?" His voice shakes as he sets your body down. It crumples like a pile of rags and stains the floor. "Ohh, nooo." He moans tracing little shapes with your blood. "You'll have to clean this up before Daki get back. You shouldn't mess up my little sister's room so much." He smiles, and his sunken yellow eyes watch for any reaction.

You do actually move this time. You rip off a sleeve of your brown kimono, soaked with old blood, and use it as a sponge for this new blood. Then you lie back down.

Gyutaro blinks.

"You're so pathetic." He giggles, poking your limp form. "It's hard to believe you're actually demon, you know? I can barely smell you at all- yet Lord Muzan showed up with you personally in tow, so I guess that makes you special."

'Especially weak.' Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out.

"Whaaaat?" He drawls while he leans over you, like a spider. "Did you say something? I must not have heard. Come on, speak louder." He grabs your chin. "Speak louder."

You're trying. Is what you want to say, but your body has shut down and you feel your mind slowly starting to slip into bleak unconsciousness.

'Maybe I'm dying.' You think faintly. The only reason you've managed to make it this far without starving to death or, worse, lashing out out a human is because you've been devoting your entire attention to Muzan and his violent, calculated whims. It's been a matter of simple survival. Then again... if you're gonna die of starvation anyway it didn't do you much good.

'No.' You shut the thought away as Gyutaro's voice becomes fainter and fainter. 'No.' You think as darkness swallows your vision. 'No.' You think. You think. And think, and think, and think, and think- 

'I survived once through thinking- I can do it again.' Even though your eyes are surely closed, you like to think the sickly gray demon prodding his apparently dead prey can feel the intensity burning behind your eyelids. 'I didn't take demon's appetite for flesh seriously, and now I'm paying the consequences. The anime always portrayed demon's as evil creatures, who reveled in feasting upon human flesh. Other than Lady Tamayo and Yushiro, I never saw a demon who didn't delight to eat humans. Thus- I never saw a starved demon.'

You heave your sluggish mind to think past that.

'Of course- there's Nezuko who survived purely off of sleep, and I naively assumed I could be like her. But obviously not. She's special. Incredible. I'm just...me. There's no way I would just "happen" to develop an ability that no demon in history has ever done before. Not yet. Not until Nezuko.'

You feel it. A darkness that's eerily familiar begin to drag itself across your mind. It's not unconsciousness- it feels more final than that. At this point, you're not sure you have enough energy to resist it. You can't even feel Gyutaro- whatever he's doing. There's only the unbearable thirst in your throat and the dark emptiness in your belly. The only thing that you can imagine satiating your stomach is blood. And... 

Pink.

Your vision has turned pink.

'Ah, wait. That's Nezuko.' Your mind is foggy, but the memories you hold of her remain crystal clear and in the forefront. Her rose quartz eyes glimmer with a hidden message. A secret technique you dearly wish you had made time to Google in your past life. 

'I just-...' You shudder as your body finally shuts down. 'I just want to be like Nezuko...'

Just before Gyutaro slinks out of the room to find his sister and deliver the upsetting news of their dead plaything, he approaches the limp demon boy and peels his eyelid back.

Your irises are a lovely shade of pink.

---

 

 

Two familiar, voices reach your ears. However muffled they are, it doesn't stop them from being loud and harsh.

How sad. You were really enjoying your nap.

'Wait- nap?'

You make the mistake of fluttering your eyes open.

"-think Muzan will react!?" Daki's shrill voice scrapes your ears as her nails dig into your wrist.

"The little demon is a disgrace." Gyutaro drawls while his skeletal body looms over you. "I doubt he's coming back." 

Gyutaro and Daki's arguing comes to a stop when Daki- who's been using your noodle arm to gesture ferociously at her brother- gasps upon seeing your dull (e/c) come back to life. You find yourself jerked into the air like a doll and held outstretched in Daki's pale hands as you stare bemused into her delighted lemon eyes.

"You're alive! How-...um- " she coughs and throws you at the ground. Oddly, it takes a lot longer than you'd normally think for your feet to come in contact with the floor, and when you do, not only is Gyutaro a giant peering down at you from the clouds but so is Daki. "How irritating."

Her nose wrinkles, and Gyutaro giggles. "You were an ugly boy when you were normal sized, but now you're just an insect. I suppose it makes sense with how desperate you are to cling to Lord Muzan. Really, it's unfortunate. Here I thought you had finally realized your only role in life. To die!" With a indignant kick, she sends you tumbling across the room, but it's not nearly as head-spinning as picking yourself up in front of her mirror.

'I'm...a kid.' You blink. The old kimono falls loosely around your shoulders, piling on the ground in a train of gray and dark red. Your hair is also longer. Matted with blood, tangled with knots, and an all around bird's nest, but longer than it's been in years. It obscures your eyes, teaming up with your disintegrating, blood-splattered veil to completely cover your face. There's less color in your skin, and your nails have hardened into pointy claws, but against the two Upper Moons behind you they may as well be kitten paws. All in all- you look straight out of a horror film. 

"I wonder why is it Lord Muzan asked us to look after him..." Gyutaro muses, slowly itching his neck.

"To teach him his place." Daki rolls her eyes and starts making her way to you. "You skipped a whole week of lessons from me while you were sleeping, you know?" Her words become deathly sweeter with each step. "I was going to teach you how to be a good boy even though you're so drab looking. There's no hope in that area for you, so I wouldn't think about it. Honestly, your features are way too feminine to look good on you." Her hand reaches out for your head. "Now tell me, little boy, how are you going to make this up to me- "

It must be old habits kicking in.

"...your features are way too feminine."

One second Daki's sharp, pale hand is looming over you, the next you're leaping out of the window, somehow evading both Daki and Gyutaro. It seems although you may be entirely lacking in strength, you've got just enough speed to make up for it. 

"Hey! Get back here!"

You land on a kid's shoulder, and he cries out in surprise.

 "Sorry." You murmur in his ear before flying off and darting into the shadowy backways of Yoshiwara.

 

It's an hour until daybreak. The knife you stole from a vendor saws away at your locks in careless, hurried swipes.

"...too feminine."

The dazzling world, like a move screen at the end of a dark, dark theater, glimmers outside the alleyway you've cooped yourself into. Drunken laughter bounces about and gorgeous women pass the screen, pretty ornaments on their suitors arms. Though it looks enticing, you know the dangers of stepping outside the cold safety of the shadows and into its hypnotic light. Human trafficking, child predators, pick-pockets, and old ladies. It's always the old ladies. They've always had some uncanny sense in seeing through your disguise.

"Oh, dearie, a sweet young lady such as yourself shouldn't be out in the cold."

"You're a boy? Oh forgive this old hag- you know how it is. Age and vision."

"Why are you wearing pants, girl?"

You almost had to quit your job because an old lady saw you without your veil once and threatened to call the police. Thankfully, your silver tongue slithered you out of that fiasco, but it left a scar. A scar- like all the others- should be healed now that you're a demon.

Your fingers hang, tangled, in the last lock of hair.

'Why do I care what gender anyone thinks I am?' You blink slowly. 'I had to make sure everyone thought I was a boy, so I could work. But I don't have work anymore.' You blink again, like an owl, lost in the night. 

"Can I...be a girl now?"

It wouldn't be a bad idea, considering the Upper Moon Six duo might be after you. On one hand, it would be sad of them to waste their breath on a demon who couldn't challenge their territory if she wanted to. On the other hand, Muzan Kibutsuji gave Daki a mission. You weren't really listening when it happened, but it sounded like she's supposed to...babysit you? Not that you're an expert, but you're pretty sure you losing the baby is a bad news for the babysitter.

'Mm, I still think it's too dangerous to be a woman. That would put me way too much at risk for becoming prey to human trafficking here in the Red Light district. Especially as a child. My first priority should be figuring out how to get big again.'

The mystery doesn't take as much time to solve as going to sleep does. You just have to remember Nezuko growing and shrinking then imagine your own mass expanding and reforming. The only thing you weren't expecting- it hurts.

"Crap." Your hands shake, making it difficult to slip out of the crusty, gray kimono and into the cheap one you stole along with your knife. Spasms of pain shoot through you and make your muscles crap. Nezuko never looked in pain when she transformed- so why do you? Are you doing something wrong?

'Whatever.' You sigh, ignoring the trembling. 'The sun is rising, and I need to run as far as I can while it's still dark. Time to go.'

With no clear direction to run to, you ended up having to hide from the sun still stuck in the middle of Yoshiwara. More than one hundred years in the past, and Tokyo is still an incredibly huge city. Even with your demon-speed, it would take at least a whole night of travel for you to escape it.

For now, you force yourself to shrink- ignoring the way your bones shifte unnaturally and blood squirts out of your mouth- then crawl into an old fox den below a stack of crates in the back of some lowly courtesan house. Your eyes slide close, your body tucked into a small ball, and your breathing beginning to slow. The adrenaline is far gone, leaving your body aching and in pain. You have yet to uncover how long you've been a demon, but your body still remembers the blood and shattered bones from your first meeting with Muzan. It remembers his swift wrath, unmerciful to your dire condition in your early days of serving as his shadow. It remembers Daki's nails. It remembers Gyutaro's hands in your hair. 

Your body realizes in your state of unconsciousness that it's finally been given a chance to recover. Awake, you've been entirely unfair to it, refusing to feed yourself, twisting and turning around Muzan while dripping blood, and not even attempting to rest.

You sleep for three months later.

---

Your little body stirs.

A low howl haunts the air making you tense. When you realize it's just the wind, though, you slowly relax. A dry bitterness in the air makes you frown, and when you try to open your eyes you find your eyelashes have been frozen together.

"Mm." Your little arms struggle under the weight of something. It's warm...and soft. "Mm!" You wiggle your eyebrows, trying to defrost your eyelids. "Mmmm- "

"Yip!"

You freeze.

"Yip."

"Yip!"

"Yap!"

The thing immobilizing your arms and body is actually a lot of things. You flinch when something licks the frost from your eyes and open your eyes to find four red foxes curled tightly around your tiny body, using your hair as a blanket. Because apparently it's more than long enough to do that now.

'I guess this fox den wasn't actually abandoned.' You think dumbly, while the fluffy creatures yawn and cuddle around you. 'Oh, no.' You clutch your heart. 'I'm gonna die of cuteness. And right after fully healing, too.'

It takes the most willpower you've ever exercised- even more than when you had to resist eating human flesh- to extract yourself form the bundle of serotonin and peek outside the den. Your nose is immediately frozen by the howling wind. After clamping your hands over it, you peek again.

The moon illuminates a golden city, brighter than ever in its glowing white coat of snow. There's still a bustle of people and merchandise, but it seems...slower. Everything is subdued by the season's chill. The veil of snow makes Yoshiwara's vivacious nature ever so slightly less flashy.

Which is probably why the kid with snowy hair brushing his shoulders, standing in front of you shines even brighter than he normally would.

You choke on your spit when you realize the scarlet eyes staring down his nose at your shivering (e/c) ones belong to no other than Uzui Tengen.

 

 

 

---

Taisho Era Secrets!

---

The foxes' names are Yip, Yipper, Yippy, and Yap.

Gyutaro spent more time looking for MC than Daki.

You were with Muzan for four months.

Chapter 3: Guts

"How is Upper Moon Six?" Muzan's rich voice echoes in the never-ending castle after a seemingly never-ending silence. You liked it when he was ignoring you. It gave you space to think about Uzui. His familiar eyes, snowy hair, and self-assured voice. Then the other things. Like his goofy personality, guarded stance, and vulnerable side that you never really saw in the anime.

If you thought about it long enough, you could pretend you were back in the snow, under the moonlight, and listening to Uzui's questions instead of here- trapped in a box, in danger of angering the Demon Lord by breathing wrong, and colder than the winter could ever make you.

"Comfortable." You respond, voice low and monotone.

"And what did you learn?" He slowly pours a shimmering liquid into a beaker.

"..."

What did you learn?

You already know all about Daki's and Gyutaro's blood techniques, though they haven't actually showed you anything, and they seem to be following Muzan's orders to covertly feast upon humans. You highly doubt Muzan sent you to spy on them because you highly doubt Daki is capable of betraying Muzan, something the Demon Lord is surely aware of after decades of carefully manipulating her.

So what does he want you to answer?

"They are weak, my lord." You dip your head enough that your hair slips in front of your face, but you dare not remove your eyes from him. "In a fight, their vulnerability is obvious, and they rely too much on each other. However..."

And this is where it counts. This is where his eyes slide from his life's research and goal to focus on your dullness, awaiting your next words. 

"...they are thousands of times stronger than I." (E/c) against vibrant red. "I could never win against either, which can only mean you are infinitely more powerful. It is incomprehensible to me."

Silence.

But the gleaming magenta of his eyes says it all.

Exactly. That is why I put you there. This is why I keep you here. So you understand how weak you are.

"Good." He turns back to his research. "I was going to lend you to each Upper Moon until you understood, but I see you are a fast learner." He crosses something out in his notebook. Something simmers in pot. His eyes narrow by a millimeter, and you react accordingly by snuffing out the Bunsen burner with your bare hand. You're not quick enough.

Muzan's hand tightens around your wrist- keeping your palm pressed against the searing hot metal. Your bottom lip trembles, but you bite it into submission. 

"Unfortunately." His voice moves with effortless efficiency. There's no hurry to it, yet his tongue never drawls. It's low. It's deep. It's dangerous. "You have still missed the point."

Your heart sinks just as fast his fingers snap. It rings and rings and rings until the glowering silence resettles itself into your prison.

"My lord." A voice speaks.

It's not you.

"Akaza." Muzan's voice stabs the air. You feel it slice your heart open then wrap it in a pretty bow and hand it to the pulsing presence behind you for him to hang. "What do you make of this demon?"

"It's disgusting." He immediately spits, and you can almost feel his contempt threatening to choke you. "It reeks of weakness. I wanted to stamp it out existence the second I laid eyes upon it. I bet a decently built human would be able to defeat it. It's incredible you allow it to be in your presence, my lord."

"Is that a comment on my judgement, Akaza?"

You feel a spike of fear tear through your bones for the Upper Moon Three. The speed and force of Muzan's mood change feels like the distant boom of a glacier splitting.

"N-no- I only meant- "

"Get out of my sight. And take the demon with you."

Muzan leaves you with no command, but just before the haunting twang of the Biwa Woman's instrument can ring out, you catch his glowing eyes and his last words to you come to mind.

"Unfortunately, you have missed the point."

The threat is obvious. You better freaking catch the point this time.

 

 

---

It hasn't even been a week, and you're less worried about whatever 'point' Muzan wants you to understand and much more worried about surviving Akaza's fist. The second you two appeared in a moonlit wilderness of trees and thick underbrush, the indigo striped fist of Akaza hurled itself at you with more than just anger. It was utter loathing.

And you get it, yeah. Muzan got mad at him because he said something just barely wrong. And it was about you- so obviously it's your fault for-...what? Not warning him? Oh, yeah, just so you know, Akaza, I wouldn't point out Muzan's weird tolerance for me because he's apparently sensitive over that. A fact you only became aware of due to Akaza's blunder.

It doesn't help that he quote- "wanted to stamp it out of existence" upon seeing you.

So you let him smash his fist into your stomach that first time and do everything in your power to keep your innards intact. But then he does it again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

"P-please." You splutter blood, and he takes a second to wipe it off his chest before gripping your head and holding you in the air so he can land another hit to the crater he's carved into your stomach.

"Only the weak beg." He answers.

The sun saves you that first day. It's only fear of Muzan's wrath and the uncertainty of what might incur it that prompts Akaza to grab your foot and haul you away from the approaching dawn then bury you in the dark depths of a pond before disappearing to likely find a much nicer abode for the night.

You couldn't sleep with that injury. You'd be knocked out for weeks, if not months. Something tells you Akaza isn't normally one to enjoy beating an unconscious people, but you're not sure with his burning fury for you if that currently holds true. So, with much effort and pain, you drag yourself along the shadowy banks of the pond- attracting the attention of it's fishy inhabitants- and wait for dusk to run for your life.

Unfortunately, Akaza is faster than you.

Sensing you'd try to escape the second the sun went down, he was there to catch your sopping body as it ran in vain from the water in a jolting hug. It lasted for less than a second- and you were forced into a rib-shattering body slam. 

And so the second day turned into another beating session.

You spent the following day at the bottom of the pond, trying to figure out how to regenerate at a pace slightly faster than a snail. That night, Akaza had targeted your right arm. It seemed he was going to methodically destroy each of your limbs one by one.

Lovely.

'I can't believe I ever thought he was hot.' You moan while nursing your purple appendage, twisted in all the wrong angles and oozing blood from the fingertips. It's honestly impressive you haven't blacked out yet. As a human, your mind wouldn't have been able to physically take the pain shooting through your limb and throbbing in your gut. As a demon, though, it seems you're capable of experiencing more pain.

'I mean- yayy, I don't die, but is it really a blessing to be able live through this kind of pain?'

Your mind is in overload, comprehending pain you never felt as a human before, and it screams and screams and screams. Which makes it really hard to concentrate on healing. You doubt any other demon consciously tries to make themselves heal. In the anime, even the weaker ones in the beginning episodes healed faster than you, so they probably didn't spend much time thinking about it in comparison to just waiting for it to happen.

'Ugh. Why do I have to be the weakest demon?'

A part of you wishes Muzan had just given you more of his blood to begin with. So what if your body couldn't handle it and you exploded? At least you'd be dead instead of suffering at the bottom of a pond, like glorified fish food. And if you could handle more blood-

'I'd have a better chance of changing plot.' You think bitterly.

The embarrassing truth of the matter is, however powerful you know Muzan is- however smart you may think you are- you're still naive enough to hope. 

You hope that one day you'll escape him.

That's why you watch the Demon Lord. That's why you dig desperately inside of yourself for a blood technique. That's why you're almost happy to be a demon. That's why you can't give up.

It's also why you won't tell Akaza you're a woman.

It would be so easy. 

Tada! And rip your kimono off while freeing your breasts from their bindings. 

Okay- maybe flashing him isn't the most necessary course of action, but it would prove your point pretty quickly. It's like a get-out-of-jail-free card, your EZ pass to freedom, the shortcut to end this abuse. You're not sure if being a demon changes anything, but Akaza's moral promise is to never hurt a woman, and you are- after demon- a woman.

You'll never do it.

You're not strong, you're not skilled, and you're not even that smart. You just have knowledge. And you would never- never waste a card so valuable on something so stupid- not when there's a precise moment in the future you've sworn to change history with.

Kyojuro Rengoku's death. By the very hands of this demon.

You'll wait. You'll bide your time. You'll take every punch and kick he wants to torture you with if only you can save your precious card to buy a couple minutes- seconds even on that fateful day. What's a little pain now, anyway? You can't die, but Rengoku can and will if you allow yourself to be selfish right now.

'Since I'm not going to tell him I'm a girl, how else do I escape?' You blow some bubbles to the surface and watch them lazily drift upward. 'So far, he's always managed to grab me before I can even fully get out of the water. Is it worth getting a tad burnt my the sun to get a head start on him? I'm guessing I'm not very flame-resistant, though. With my luck I wouldn't even feel it before getting turned to ash.'

You scowl at a particularly nosy fish, inching its way closer to your bloody arm.

'I haven't tried fighting him, hoping he'd just get bored, but it seems he's insistent on pulverizing me no matter my reaction.'

A heavy weight pulls your heart down as you realize the only thing that will save you from this torture is figuring out what Muzan meant.

"Unfortunately, you have missed the point."

Did you not stroke his ego enough? Have you not already given him your submission? Is there nothing that will satisfy his need to crush you?

You're not sure if you're crying. The pond doesn't really allow tears down here. So you lie floating, stuck between the warm sunny surface, and the layer of mud made of rotted fish corpses and decomposing leaves. How fitting- unable to feel the warmth of humanity but refusing to sink into the welcoming despair of demonism. 

'I suppose until I can find what Muzan wants me to understand, I'll just try to minimize Akaza's damage.'

If you tried to fight him, it would be an invitation for him to do more damage, and you know for a fact that he's been holding back. Otherwise you'd have a hole in your stomach instead of a crater.

The following night you tried and failed to make a run for it. It could be your imagination, but barreling at his legs seemed to catch him slightly off guard. However- just like every night before- he caught you and immediately began pummeling you.

That night, though, it didn't hurt quite as much.

You picked up the subtle rhythm of his punches, and although he never missed once and landed each with the force of a bullet train, you squinted through the haze of pain and blood and began to anticipate and react. Instead of simply taking his beating, you let his punches roll off your shoulders, threw your body into his kicks so they wouldn't land with as much power, and kept yourself on the side you half deluded yourself into believing was his non-dominant side.

It hurts, you kept thinking. Why am I trying, you wanted to scream. It was only at the end of your third beating and the annihilation of your left arm that you glimmered the results of your efforts. As your head lolled about the ground, hair tangling with the twigs and dirt Akaza dragged you over, you heard your torturer mutter under his breath,

"...he's even annoying as a punching bag."

'Ha...' A weak smile split your bloody lip before you were tossed in the lake.

Only- you don't hit water.

You hit ice.

"Well, well." A simpering voice slithers itself around your neck. "I didn't think the mighty Upper Moon Three was into these kinds of things."

Akaza's voice- something you've rarely heard- lowers to a growl. "What do you want?"

"Oh? You wanna know what I want?" A shadow creeps over your body, and two feet glide soundlessly next to your ear. "Let's see~ I already have all the women a man could hope for, and I'm quite full on blood on the moment- so the most obvious options out. That leaves...bonding with my favorite Upper Moon!" He claps his hands. "You're not still sour about being lower ranked than me, right?"

You can't believe Akaza hasn't attacked him yet. In the anime, he didn't seem to have any qualms about knocking his jaw off.

"Mm?" You can almost imagine his puppy-like head tilt and unsettling pout. "You're just walking away? But you haven't answered my question!"

Two hands- unnervingly gentle- wrap around your purple and black shoulders, making you bite back a scream of pain, and lift you so you're sitting, like the ugliest doll in history.

"Why would a muscle-head, like you, who couldn't think past his fist if he tried, suddenly be into beating up gi- "

You whip around so fast you surprise yourself.

Still- a pit of horror opens its gaping jaws as you watch Douma's tongue roll lazily in his mouth as he finishes the one word he must not speak. How he even knows escapes you- not even Muzan realizes your true gender. But that doesn't matter right now because his tongue is still moving, and you can feel Akaza's presence with your blood still staining his fists just meters away-

'No, no, no, no, no!'

Your hands- you forgot that they're completely immobile. Even if they could move- it wouldn't be enough time. What can you do? How do you stop him from ruining everything? 

This is the one thing that you can think of to save Kyojuro's life, and you realize- somewhat proudly, in your moment of panic, that you're willing to go to extreme lengths to protect it.

Your lips crash onto Douma's.

Well- your veil separates your lips, but it's thin and you can still feel the shape of Douma's lips and the solidness of his teeth underneath them pressed against yours. In any case- it's effective. Not only does it stop him from saying the "g" word, but it also stops him from saying...anything. 

"Please." You whisper, the low voice you've crafted for your male persona falling away and leaving a small, wavering one. Your eyes stay half-closed in trepidation as your lips- pulled slightly away- move against Douma's icy cold ones. "Don't tell him. I'll do anything just- don't say anything."

It's utter silence.

Then you feel his fingertips on the top of your head sliding like poisoned raindrops, down to your ears, past your jaw, and to your throat.

"Anything?" The breathy whisper in your ear makes your breath hitch.

Your eyes dart behind your lids, looking for an impossible exit, but you have too much to lose to consider backing down.

So you slide your eyelids open and raise your (e/c) eyes to meet a pair of rainbows that shimmer with a joy that doesn't quite match his smile.

~

A beauty as sharp as icicles and an aura that pulls his prey into its mesmerizing colors. His smile and eyes are only a distraction for others and himself from the emptiness of his words.

"You know, everyone's afraid of dying. And that's why I eat them all up. Now they get to live together with me~ forever. All the feelings of my worshipers. Blood. Flesh. I made sure to accept, rescue, and guide them all to enlightenment."

~

"Yes." You breathe, knowing he may be the worst person to utter these words to.

"On second thought, Akaza," you blink when his grip on your neck tightens and pulls you into his chest so he can use your head to rest his chin upon, "I don't really care what you were doing. I'm taking him."

There. It's probably too early and too naive to feel relief, but you've been suffering for the last three nights, and your body is begging you to sleep- the only way you to fuel your regeneration. As long as he doesn't tell Akaza you're a girl, you don't really care.

Their voices slowly begin to fade as your eyes slide shut, and your body begins the uncomfortable process of shrinking. Something 'Muzan' there, something 'whatever' here- it all...fades...to...nothing.

But pink.

 

 

---

Taisho Era Secrets!

---

Muzan forced you to change into a new kimono after stating you smelled like animals and dirt. You cut a veil out of it.

Douma kind of liked the veil-kiss.

You should have more injuries, is what Akaza thought after throwing you in the pond. He was almost impressed.

 

Chapter 4: Demons for Dummies

You promptly dive back into your nest of fluffy orange foxes.

'Crap, crap, crap- ' You feel like your heart is about to explode. What is this? First Muzan- then Daki and Gyutaro- did meeting Muzan, your first canon character, somehow make you a canon-character magnet? No, no, you don't have time to think about this. You only have time to panic because oh man- is he hot even as a teenager- then panic because oh man- you don't know if he's a demon slayer yet.

You get your answer pretty quick.

"Hey, monmonga."

You only get a second to wonder, monmonga? Isn't that a flying squirrel? before a stick slams itself into your forehead, making you wince. Unfortunately, your fortress of foxes is only good for warmth- not physical protection, and you get exactly ten more violent pokes before a freaking hand shoves itself into the fox den. You cover your mouth, eyes shaking in fear, as you and your fluffy companions scuttle as far away as possible from the groping appendage.

"I'm here for revenge! Nobody sneaks up on I, Lord Tengen, Master Shinobi!"

As he continues spewing egotistical nonsense while grunting and waving his hand around wildly, you try to calm your racing heartbeat and think a way out of this.

It takes less than a second for you to realize there isn't one.

'I'm literally in a hole in the ground.' You want to cry. 'It's all I can do to avoid being grabbed and skewered by him- there's literally no escaping.' You tense when you feel four pairs of glimmering dewy eyes trained on you. 'Oh no.' You clutch your heart. 'They're asking me to save them.'

With nothing else to do, you gently wrap your arms around your brother and sisters in peril and hug them close while your eyes search the den for anything that could help you. There's your bloody veil in one corner- the knife you stole to cut your hair dangerously close to Uzui's hand- and...some nail polish you tried experimenting with. You know- to relive past memories when living as a girl wasn't a hinderance.

You decide...to wait.

It obviously doesn't work.

Uzui's arms finally disappears, but in its place is the stick he first poked you with, and it's back with vengeance.

"W-what did I do to you?!" You yelp, kicking the stick away from your face.

"You snuck up on me!" His voice is younger, but it's just as exuberant as his canon one. "Only my elder brother has ever managed to do that, and he's been training as a shinobi for far longer than I have."

"I don't- when did I- ow!" You hold your broken nose.

"If you come out now and state your name, business, and crimes I will consider sparing your life!" He jabs at a fox this time, and you have to catch his blow before it takes its eye out. Bad idea.

"C-consider?" You blink while holding your throbbing palm.

"It's more than my brother or father would give you." His tone deepens with something darker that you aren't used to. Something you only saw glimpses in the anime as he relived short flashbacks of his life as a shinobi. "You should feel lucky I'm even giving you a chance to defend yourself. Somebody with your speed and subdued presence must have been trained in the ways of assassination. Are you from a rival shinobi clan I've never heard of? Maybe a ninja? What are you- "

A small bottle of nail polish hits his fore-head.

"I'm your worst nightmare." Your muffled voice peeps from the hole.

Uzui stares at the bottle of scarlet nail polish lying in the snow. Then stares, unimpressed, at the fox den's opening. "My worst nightmare throws...nail polish."

"..."

"I know you have a knife in there. Why don't you use that, monmonga?"

You blink, surprised that he knew there was a knife in here without ever touching it, and even more surprised he let you keep it.

'He was probably testing to see if I would use it.' You frown, holding said knife. The nail polish was actually just a distraction, so you could grab the weapon and use it...to cut your hair. He's obviously not a demon slayer yet, so you saw no reason to react with violence. He identified himself as a shinobi, thinks the only threats to himself and this world are other humans, and has not stabbed you with a niichirin sword. All good signs for you.

'Why don't I use it? Because you're super hot, and cool, and amazing, and I'd feel bad if I stabbed you- not that you'd let me if I tried. You're too good for that.' You continue sawing off your hair. The foxes watch curiously as lock after lock disconnects from your head. It doesn't occur to them that the reason you're doing this is because they've irreversibly tangled themselves into your hair, unknowingly trapping you in their cozy den.

"You shouldn't wander around at night." Your voice floats out of the hole.

Uzui tilts his head, and a piece of hair sways across his face in the cold wind. "Didn't you hear me? I'm- a- shin- o- bi." He says as if talking to a toddler.

"Shinobi are only dangerous to other humans." You keep your voice carefully low and perfectly monotone. With one last tug, you pull the rusty blade through the last of your hair and take a deep breath. Then you rocket yourself out of the den.

Your body flies at Uzui's face with speed enough to fool the normal human eye into seeing nothing- but Uzui is no normal human, and after his first encounter with you- when you jumped from Daki's window and landed on his shoulder a couple months ago- he's already adjusted to your speed in time to make a grab for your ankle.

And he would have grabbed it. He would have finally got a hold of the tiny girl he told his brother about three months ago- only to be dismissed because his mission wasn't to fight enemies that day. It was to look for a wife. The same mission he abandoned today. 

How lucky he spotted your strange slitted, (e/c) eyes peeking up at him from the ground.

Your eyes aren't the only strange thing about you, however. One second, you're a tiny girl- no older than six- the next, you're a-...boy(?) years older than him, evading his hands with even faster movements and landing behind him.

He's quick, too, though. A knife flicks out from the sleeve of his kimono, and he presses it against your neck the second your bare feet kiss the snow.

"Well, that was pretty flashy." His crooked grin shines, as your blank eyes regard him from under your eye lashes. "What are you?" He asks again, but the question holds a different weight. He's not asking what kind of human you are anymore. He's asking if you're human.

You sigh and close your eyes- something melancholic pulling your shoulders down.

Then you push your soft neck into his blade, and Uzui swears his heart freezes.

"I'm a demon." You whisper as a trail of blood leaks from your lips.

---

You never would have believed you would be explaining demons to Uzui Tengen.

It feels unreal to watch his expression shift with so many different colors besides the confidence, pride, and exuberance he showed on screen. You wonder what his reaction was in canon. Did his nose wrinkle in disgust? Did his lips curl with contempt? Did his eyes every so often trail to the blood oozing hole in your neck?

All in all, he looks...excited.

"A niichirin blade, huh?" He leans against the wall. Even at 14 years of age, he's still immensely tall. "I like the sound of that!"

"It changes color, too, depending on its owner." You hum, soaking in each of his expressions.

His eyes light up, and he disappears then reappears in front of you with a grin. You can see why he called himself a Master Shinobi.

"What color do you think mine would be? It would surely be flashy!"

"Um- " you try to scoot away, but his hand lands on your shoulder. You realize just then that you really are weak. Here is a fourteen year old human boy simply grabbing your shoulder- but it takes all your strength not keep yourself from being pushed into the ground under the weight of his mere hand. "I dunno. Probably something bright- yellow? Orange?"

Now that you think about it- what color were Uzui's giant dual blades?

"I like it!" He laughs, and your chest feels like it was hit with a firework.

~

Tall, handsome, and an incredibly caring man, although he may not seem like it at first. Even under immense pain and pressure, he presses on with an unbothered grin. He lives his life flamboyantly and unapologetically loud. The Sound Hashira.

"How flashy! I like it!"

~

"I guess I should kill you then?" His voice nonchalant comment brings you out of your daze.

"Pardon?"

"Kill. You." He pokes your forehead where several bumps are slowly healing.

"Oh." You cover your head. "Yeah, you probably should."

His empty scarlet eyes stare into your expressionless (e/c) ones for a long, long moment.

"...I don't have a niichirin sword." He finally says.

"You could tie me up and leave me to burn in the sun."

"...you could escape."

"If the knots and rope are good enough, probably not. I'm the weakest demon alive."

"...you could run."

"You're blocking my exit."

"...you could fight."

"I would lose." You run a hand through your butchered hair.

'I would never hurt you.' Is what you really mean.

Uzui Tengen keeps a smirk on his lips, but he doesn't like the way you seem complacent to your fate.

"Why is a young shinobi in Yoshiwara, anyway?" You hum, ripping a strip of your kimono and wrapping it around your lower face.

"To find a wife." He shrugs.

Both of you ignore the fact that you've steered completely clear of the subject concerning your death.

'Low-key was expecting that. His family has a history in polygamy, I think? His father or brother probably accompanied him to make him buy a wife from one of these courtesan houses.' You think, disgust twisting your heart at the thought of buying people like objects. 'I remember being pretty surprised in the anime (and totally jealous) when he revealed he had three wives. I reacted like Zenitsu, thinking he was being selfish, but the way he valued each of their lives and they all adored him while he equally adored each of them made me change my mind. Because I wanted in.'

You grab a fistful of snow and throw it in your face. How dare you think of things when he is but a child.

Uzui must be trying to wrap his mind around demons still and doesn't comment on your behavior, thinking it to be normal for demons. You suddenly feel bad- as if you're deceiving him into thinking demons are all normal-looking, weak, mellow-behaved creatures. At the same time, you know he's not stupid and has probably figured out that most demons aren't going to act like you. At all.

'Ah- back to the biggest problem.' You frown, crossing your arms seriously. 'Uzui doesn't find any of his wives here.'

"You're kind of young." You say, knowing full well he'll be married next year to three beauties.

"You don't think I can handle it?" He smirks sliding the arms of his kimono up then copying your folded arms, flexing his muscles. If he were the same age and height as in the the anime (23, 198.1 cm), you would be a blushing mess- but right now, seeing a teenager showing off his muscles (which are admittedly huge) in a conversation that has absolutely no correlation to them, is just kind of funny.

The corner of your mouth twitches upward.

"Do you want a wife?" You counter with a question.

"Why? Do you want a husband?" The moonlight reflects off his lazy grin as his scarlet eyes regard you suggestively.

Okay, now he's just trying too hard.

"I'm a demon." Your face remains impassive and your voice a controlled monotone, but you're just barely holding back a laugh. "And a man." A hint of hesitance makes Uzui raise a brow.

"Really? My bad. You seemed like a boy at most."

'This brat.'

"I would refrain from flirting with demon's in the future." You respond smoothly. "It takes more time to kill them. And you should tell your father you want to marry a kunoichi."

Uzui's confident grin falters for a second. "What?"

"Or two, or three." You shrug. 

"No."

To your surprise, a flash of darkness flits across Uzui's face. He quickly disguises it with nonchalant shrug and sly smile in your direction. "I'm a gentleman, unlike some guys." You get a pointed look. "It's cruel to force those girls into marriage, and I may not seem like it, but I've always liked the idea of romance. Not blind marriage."

He gestures like he's giving a speech to the world, only to find you listening-... well, yeah. Just- listening. It's much more than either his father or brother have done for him.

He coughs, letting his bangs cover his eyes in a shadow. After a moment, he murmurs, "I think...they deserve better than that."

"Yeah." You shrug. "I still think you should do it, though."

His mouth opens to argue, but you stand, brushing the snow off your shoulders. "They're going to throw their lives away at this point. You obviously value them more than they do themselves, and that's something I'm sure they need to hear." At this point, you're not even pretending to be against polyamorous relationships. "And getting a wife in the Red Light District is way worse." You point out. "So show those kunoichi girls that their lives come first then let them choose how to feel about you. Whether it's romantic or platonic, I'm sure they'll be happy to have a partner who cares about them."

Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru deserve to choose their husband, and maybe they would have chosen differently if they weren't in the service of Uzui's family. However, you know what a wholesome relationship they'll have in the future, which is why you have no qualms nudging Uzui in their direction.

"Haaa..." you sigh, squinting at the sky. It's faint, but it's starting to lighten. It'll be daybreak soon.

First you gave Uzui Tengen a crash course of demons (after openly admitting to being one yourself) then you told him to get married to multiple women (having no dating experience whatsoever). 

'Does he even believe I'm a demon?' You wonder, trying to figure out why he didn't try to murder you. There is the fatal knife wound in your neck, and you've been getting along perfectly alive with it, so he can't believe you're normal. 'Maybe this is good. He doesn't fear me in the slightest- which could be bad in the future- but it might be my ticket out of here. This is the future Sound Hashira we're talking about. If I can convince him- maybe he'll let me tag along. Ooh, he could be like Tanjiro, and I could be like Nezuko- we could even get a cool box- '

It's strange. The freezing cold that shoots itself through your veins is so fast, your mind is still busy with your naive thoughts of hope by the time your realize why there's ice gripping your heart.

"Become a Demon Slayer." You whisper suddenly, clenching your fist. Uzui's scarlet eyes, deep in thought somewhere else, flash back toward yours. There's something wrong with your face, and it doesn't help that you've covered the lower half of it. Your eyes are blank. Your lips move, but it's so small he hardly catches your voice. "Destroy the Upper Moon here."

Something flies at his forehead, but he's never fallen for the same trick twice. Unfortunately, you don't ever perform the same trick twice, and he realizes this when a wind rushes past the place he just dodged.

You're gone.

---

That's what Daki told him.

It's funny, really. He wasn't planning on coming back for the boy at all. The way his wide, (e/c) stare absorbed every tiny twitch of his brow and hung onto his every step made his blood simmer with something. Not even his Upper Moons followed his commands like the little demon did. His word wasn't something so simple when that demon heard it- it was life itself. At some point, he didn't even need to say anything- the demon simply knew.

His fingers itched to plunge themselves into his soft skull and find out what was going on in there. And it would be painful. He would make him scream again- just like that first night. He never screamed for him anymore. He just watched. And watched. And watched.

At some point, he began asking himself if he was keeping the boy around...

...Or was he following him? 

So he gave him to Daki. Those blank (e/c) eyes would finally be out of his sight. He could finally stop...thinking about...them...

Muzan's veins surged with fire when Daki told him the demon was gone.

No, he told himself before his hand could crush the bones in Daki's neck and wrangle her like an old towel. The only thing he wanted in his hand was his neck. He's felt it before. The softness right before the blood. The hitch of breath before his vocal chords were snapped.

A low chuckle drips from Muzan's pale lips. 

It's funny that the little demon thinks he can be 'gone'. No demon- no matter how insignificant or worthless- is allowed outside his grasp. Muzan is almost surprised this demon even thought of escaping when he, above all others should know this. With how closely he kept his (e/c) eyes tied to his master, perhaps he didn't realize Muzan was holding the leash even tighter. No matter how far this boy has run, Muzan will find him and make sure he understands he isn't free until he says-

Muzan's glowing magenta eyes darken into a bloody red.

The crowd of people shuffling through Yoshiwara's snowy streets is blissfully unaware of the most powerful being in all of existence standing still among them. Not even the white-haired boy between Muzan and his demon notices the flesh piercing gaze behind him.

Only you notice. You noticed far before Muzan noticed you. Because you're already moving toward him- picking up the command he has yet to even think.

Any thought of your insubordination dies. Your eyes hold no shame, only fear- the usual, reverent kind that keeps your pupils big, like two black holes trying to suck in his very existence. It's as if they never left his side.

The white-haired boy may never have existed for all Muzan cared.

He slips his hands back into his fine wool pants and meets your unrelenting stare for a moment. Then he turns his attention forward and resumes his calmly menacing walk through the streets. The only difference- he has his shadow.

And he has to wonder again...does he keep his shadow or does his shadow follow him?

 

 

---

Taisho Era Secrets!

---

Muzan wonders why your haircut looks bad.

You threw another nail polish at Uzui to distract him. Coincidentally it was green.

Uzui knows you're not a man.

Chapter 5: Under the Veil

Since I know nothing about Doma's cult other than it exists and he definitely uses it to feed on humans, I've taken creative liberty. Hopefully, it's not too canon-divergent.

"He's so cute!"

"Lord Doma, may I peek under his veil?"

"Aw, who's the mother?"

Do you remember those little foxes from a while ago? The ones in between your meeting with Daki and Gyutaro and Uzui Tengen? Well, you're going to be asleep for a little while, so Yip, fur ball #1, will tell your tell until you wake.

To be honest, the baby fox was surprised to reunite with the "strange fox with no ears and detachable fur" that his sisters and brother adopted all those winter months ago. Yip was just minding his business, chasing pigeons. He's never been very good with directions, you see, so he may have followed a particularly juicy bird just a tad to far- then got distracted by a silvery fish in a creek he happened to stumble upon- and before his fluffy brain knew it, he was riding a boat along a river to who knows where.

He would have been properly done for if he hadn't picked up your scent. Among the alien pine, wet flowers, and underlying blood, your whiff of dusty books (whatever those are) was a beacon of light.

With a surge of courage, Yip made a mad dash for freedom and landed, wobblily, on the river bank.

Yip doesn't want to be judgmental- but your human den is unnecessarily complicated. (I'd like to add, dear readers, that this clumsy, directionally challenged fox could get lost in a box, so I wouldn't take offence.) He did eventually find you, though, and this is the scene he stumbled upon.

In the center of a room covered in rich purple velvets, giving it a private, cloud-like appearance, a human lounges about a large throne, cushioned with only the softest pillows. A handful of women kneel at his seat tittering and cooing over him- no- the bundle held awkwardly in his large hands. A tiny human drowning in a man's kimono.

You, of course.

A chandelier of diamonds hangs above the two of you, casting you in a speckling of light as the creature clogging Yip's nose with blood holds your little body...at arms length. He's been doing that for a while now. He walked in doing it. Even a creature who knows only his furry siblings, hunting mice, snitching fish, and nothing of humans, thinks this man of wild colors and scents is holding you rather oddly.

"Lord Doma, gave me such great baby advice- I'm sure he'll make a wonderful father!"

"..." Doma stares at the sleeping- thing that you've shrunken into. This is the first time he's ever seen a Blood Demon Art like this (there's Hantegu's Fear form, but that seems different somehow). And- well he's never witnessed a demon sleep.

"What is the glorious Lord Doma's son's name?"

For the second time he's ever been alive- Doma is at a loss of words.

When you agreed to do "anything" for him, he had a lot of fun ideas. Oh, where would he even start? Physical pain seemed like something that switched you off- he thought back to your dead (e/c) eyes, resigned to the disgusting lumps of flesh Akaza had reduced your arms to. So he would need to try something else. Something that would bring life to those blank irises of yours. Something that would make them widen with agony or narrow with fury- mmh, it made him want to lick his lips imagining your eyes turning a glossy shade of despair- but, somehow, seeing you in this tiny, vulnerable state, makes all those fun ideas seem- well- less fun...

What is he supposed to do with a baby?

Yip watches from the shadows as the strange man with bushy white hair shrugs and tosses you unceremoniously into a corner (after his worshippers left, of course). That seems like the end of it at first. He dusts his hands and turns to go back to his throne when something makes him stop. A flash of delight flits through his eyes, and a smile cuts his face open wide enough to make Yip cower as far as he can away from the rainbow-eyed monster. He saunters over to your haphazardly discarded form and picks you up with a tenderness completely opposite to the awkward strangeness he held you with before.

"You'll wake up eventually." He drawls wickedly while trailing his finger along the edge of your veil from your nose to your ear, where he cuts it from your face. An easy tap of his nail. "And when you do...I want the first thing you see to be~ me. So you know exactly who did this to you. You're not allowed to make me wait and get away with it consequence-free."

 

 

---

There's never been a moment in your life you smelled like perfume. As a human, you obviously tried to smell clean and occasionally rubbed mint leaves on your wrists and the place behind your ears, but anything feminine you purposely avoided. You can't imagine why you'd wake up doused in it.

The second warning sign is your clothing. You would believe it if somebody told you the fabric was made of clouds. Loose folds of silk lie waiting, draped around your small body. With horror, you realize the humble gray cotton kimono from Muzan has gone entirely missing from your body- meaning you were undressed at some point. Chills creep up your body, and it only gets worse when you feel your face.

There's something on it. It's soft, like lotion, but sits on top of the skin instead of inside it. Your fingers move to your lips, dabbing at the substance coating them. You pull your hand away and crack an eye open to observe it.

It's lipstick.

Both eyes shoot wide open when you look past your stained finger at the two, hypnotic rainbows reflecting your faintly terrified expression.

"Good morning, doll." Doma smiles. His voice, although quiet, feels heavy with the sheer giddiness behind it.

You don't reply.

"Aw, c'mon." He lowers himself onto his elbows, bringing his nose to yours, and ensuring you can see nothing but those two, shimmering rainbows. "I've been waiting for a couple months now to see you."

Your heart hammers itself against your chest. The two of you stay nose to nose, (e/c) against rainbow for a long moment. It's finally interrupted by a tentative knock. Doma's cold breath brushes your face as he groans.

"What is it?" His voice floats kindly to the door.

"There have been inquiries about the date of his lordship's wife will be ready to appear."

You get a terrible feeling about this.

"Tell them soon." Doma waves, resting his head in his hand, next to you. His eyes slide onto your form. "Right, wife?"

You're not sure which is worse- Akaza's fist, or this narcissist's smile.

"C'mon." He says again while poking your cheek. "Get big. I saw you big before, but that doesn't count. I want the real you."

'No, you just want black mail.' You school your features, covered in makeup, into impassiveness, keeping your eyes trained on Doma.

He's childish but cunning. You have no idea what he's planning, nor the reason he's entertaining himself with you. However, with a little observing, strategic submissiveness, and a couple questions, you're sure you'll be able to find out what. It feels wrong to be missing your veil- a key part of your persona that would give you confidence in a time like this. It was something that felt almost like protection against your oppressors. As long as they could never see your true emotions, you were safe.

Now that's gone, a shiver of vulnerability crawls down your spine. And you have a feeling he knows it.

You close your eyes. The stretch and squeeze of your muscles is always unnatural and clumsy in comparison to the quick, fluid transitions Nezuko always seemed to make on screen, but you'll wait patiently for the time that you can ask her how she does it. You have to survive until then, though.

Before you can even open your eyes, however, both your wrists are captured in an frozen solid grip the hauls you over the Upper Moon Two and into his lap.

"Haha! I knew it!" He sounds absolutely delighted, as if every holiday had been jammed into today. His hands, greedy and quick slide up your forearms, to your shoulders, along your shoulders and into your hair, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from flinching. "Really, this world is bursting of gullible idiots. How long have you been parading as a man?"

"...since I can remember." You force yourself to keep looking at him. He's powerful. You keep reminding yourself. He's Upper Moon Two.

"Look at this!" He exclaims like a child while fingering your waterfall of hair. "And this!" He pinches your cheeks. "And..." he looks down. You flush then hurriedly swivel around to give him your back.

He's too much. The room suddenly feels stuffy despite being cavernous. His arms surround you- touching you with hardly more pressure than a butterfly's wing- but caging you nonetheless. A gaze that's simply too intense, too fragmented, and too vibrant weighs itself down on you.

'I need to escape.' You start thinking. He doesn't radiate the same oppressive power that Muzan did, nor does he possess the same violent fury as Akaza, but somehow he's even more stifling. You've always been careful to avoid attention. As a human and as a demon.

His fixated stare puts you in a spotlight that's dizzying and makes your heart pound with anxiety.

There's a problem, though.

 

"Unfortunately, you have missed the point."

 

Muzan's cold fuchsia eyes bore themselves into the back of your eyelids, branding you like a cow for slaughter. His message was clear even if his words weren't.

Bring me a better answer.

You know if you left now- if you somehow escaped this second pair of eyes- you would be disappointing Muzan. And you know how Muzan deals with disappointments.

"I prepared a bath for you." Doma smiles, and it's almost kind. "You're a young demon, right? You wouldn't know, but I'm a pretty important person in our world. However, what really sets me above things like you," he twists a strand of your hair, "and everybody else...is that I'm also a very important to the humans. So by simple association, you've also become something of interest to my devoted followers.

Aren't you grateful?"

He pokes your cheek, but you're too absorbed with your thoughts to realize the hefty implications of his words. He tilts his head. Curiously, he pinches your hair between his fingers and uses it, like a marionette, to wobble your glass-eyed face from side to side.

"They've bestowed their gifts of perfume on you, but I'm afraid you still reek of pond water. So I'll have to have you bathe. You'll smell just like the real you in no time!"

Doma is trying his hardest, but there's only one thing on your mind.

Muzan, Muzan, Muzan...You wonder if he's already disappointed with you. It's probably been far longer than he anticipated, and you're sure, if he wanted to, he could summon you to his side whenever and deliver an appropriate punishment. But no. He's waiting.

Whatever warped reason Muzan possesses that fills him with a need to 'teach you' runs deeper than you first thought. You've also been waiting. You've been waiting for Muzan to simply forget about you. You thought in the meantime you would watch and pick him apart- searching for weaknesses beyond what the anime showed you- but it's been more than a year and nothing has changed. You're still stuck to him, like a shadow, and he's still testing you to see if you can keep up.

It's frustrating.

Is it so much to ask that he forget about you- somebody who, by all accounts, should be entirely insignificant to him? Even though each day at his side feels like a time loop of the previous day (with these strange intermissions at his Upper Moon's mercy), you feel like every second he looks at you, your secrets are in danger of being ripped away.

You slip into a pool of warm water, covered in thick, iridescent suds and soft petals. Somebody begins massaging your scalp, and you let them, acting like an empty doll while a torrent of thoughts pound your mind.

You've been playing a submissive, emotionless creature, hoping to lose Muzan's attention. Hoping he'd cast you aside with a final order to hunt humans and destroy the demon slayers, like every other demon in existence.

This approach is not working.

The itch to just- run is incredible. The wind in your hair, the moon on your skin, and the thrill of a chase seems more of a paradise than Doma's fake one of idle pleasures ever could. But Doma wouldn't let you. You know now from observing Muzan that demons will latch onto you the second you pique their interest in the slightest and cling. Obsessively.

Escaping Doma would be trying to outrun an avalanche, and you're not even going to try thinking about Muzan.

'There's nothing to be done, really.' You sink into the bath, letting the warm, rose-scented water pour into your lungs and drag you deeper. 'Under Doma's eye, I am also under Muzan's eye, which means he knows I'm a woman now, too. I don't know how or when he'll look into Doma's memories, but in any case it's no longer a secret. The only thing good about this is that I highly doubt he cares. I was weak as a man and I'm just as weak as a woman. Muzan won't care, so he won't say anything to Aka- '

"Are you paying attention?"

Wait.

The person washing your hair-

It's not a woman-

Or servant-

'Doma!?'

This time- you can't keep yourself from jumping. A violent spray of water covers your hasty retreat to the other side of the giant bath as you cross your arms over your chest and hope with everything in you that the steam will be thick enough to hide your nakedness. Unfortunately- when you peak your eyes open, you spot the silhouette of Douma's crouched body and his pair of piercing eyes, watching you with an entertained glow.

"You're a bit of a daydreamer, aren't you?" He chuckles, and your heart drops in horror when you hear the splash of something entering the water. "That's okay. So am I."

"I thought you've been pretending to be a man for as long as you can remember, right? You don't care about sharing a bath with another man."

You dip yourself completely underwater and slowly push the water you inhaled out of your lungs then start swimming in the direction you think you put your clothes. This psycho can't actually believe that pretending to be a man would make bathing with a another dude fine. Of course you care- but that doesn't matter because he obviously doesn't and has somehow picked up the movement of water and is coming toward you-

You make a mad jump and skid across the soaked wood floor. As your luck would have it- your clothes were moved. This screwer. Thankfully, there's a pile of towels nearby that you snatch at. And it's just in time, because you hear a small splash behind you then feel a spine chilling breath fan your ear.

"You're so funny." He giggles, placing his hands beneath your wet locks to catch their drips on his fingertips. Now that your hair is wet, it reaches all the way to your hips. "It's not like you have to hide what you are from me." He brushes the hand holding the towel wrapped around you. "I know." He smiles.

Seriously- what is wrong with him? Sure, you technically made a deal with him, but he's twisting it the wrong way to think he's allowed to- to touch you like this! You said you would do anything for him- not he could do anything to you. This- this is inappropriate!

"You know nothing." You reply, cringing at how weak it sounds. Quickly, you take a large step forward and away from him and steel your voice, so it's only flavor is ice. "Yes, I am a woman, but knowing that secret doesn't make you special. It wasn't that big of a deal, anyway."

You shuffle along the slippery floor, trying to find your clothes while remaining ignorant to the darkening expression on Upper Moon Two's face.

It feels strange when his lips twist. It feels strange when his eyes dull. It feels strange to feel at all.

"Not a big deal?" He coos, breath turning into clouds of steam. "Don't I remember you begging me in just the cutest voice not to say anything? Didn't you promise me anything just to keep your little secret?"

You falter- halfway into your kimono.

'Ah, right.' He doesn't realize you don't really care if he told his cult, Muzan, or a stranger that you're a woman. As long as he doesn't tell Akaza, you don't care.

But telling him that would mean telling him your plan, which is never going to happen. 

It brings to mind the nagging thought you've been having since seeing his rainbow eyes- so bright, so distracting, so shallow, so...empty. He's a little like you, isn't he?

You finish tying the kimono and let the towel you'd been wearing under it fall to the floor with a soft whump.

"Lord Doma," you murmur, letting just the tiniest hint of vulnerability into your tone, "you are powerful, and I'm...not. My only weapon are my secrets, and- I have to be careful when and how I use them. Surely, you understand." You lift your eyes.

The steam swirls like a coat of clouds around your figure, dampening your cheeks, like morning dew on petals. Doma blinks slowly, trying to process the image standing before him. It lasts less than a second- gone with just a shift of your demeanor- but for that moment, you let him see into your soul. 

And it's burning with everything you never show.

Doma lets you walk away. You surely have no idea where you're going, so it would take a while if you tried escaping him. He has a feeling you won't, though. You've already figured him out, huh? You know how pointless it is to run. 

Damn it, he thinks with a cheeky smile. You didn't even look disappointed. But- he remembers that moment in the steam, adorned in a satiny black kimono- when you became real. Every emotion you hid inside those blank (e/c) irises glimmered before diving back under your doll-like mask where he's sure they simmer and bloom with an intensity completely foreign to Doma.

 

"Surely, you understand."

 

No... he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand at all.

His pale fingers rise to meet his lips. They start in the middle- the spot you kissed him but didn't- and spread outward until they meet the corners of his smile. How is it- without smiling or laughing- you could feel so much more than he? It's unfair. He works so hard to make his followers twist in ways that make their eyes bleed with emotion, but you... you keep all those delicious feelings tucked away where nobody can see them. Where he can't see them.

"Doll~" he sings, emerging from the steamy bathroom and peering through his lair of Eternal Paradise. "Come back. I wanna play some more!"

He understands that there's more to you, though. 

 

"Surely, you understand."

 

He's sure he will...eventually.

---

'No wonder this guy was so weird in the anime.' You deadpan, observing the mass of people crawling over themselves to get a peek at your...'husband' from the tent's opening as an old woman pleads for his 'divine revelation' in order to find a cure for her dying granddaughter. 'This amount of worship could get to anyone's head. He's so deluded he expects me to be grateful that everyone believes we're married.'

You cringe. Thankfully, Doma hasn't said anything about making you appear publicly for them. In fact, he doesn't seem very keen on letting you have any sort of contact with his humans. Much to your disappointment. Perhaps he senses you would attempt to convince them of his deceit. Or- he just likes to monopolize you. 

With your head resting against the back of his throne, you can feel it shift as he adjusts himself, a clear sign that he's bored.

'He must be.' You think, curling yourself into a tighter ball of black silk, the smell of roses filling your nose as you bury it into your knees. 'I can't think of any other reason he's keeping me around- holding me in suspense as he decides how to use my vow.

Or maybe he already knows what he want and just likes torturing me.'

Other than the underlying suspense, you're bored, too. But you're also sick to your stomach listening to day in and a day out to his nihilistic world view and sweetly poisoned words. There's nothing you can do. Humans have always clung desperately to what makes sense to them, and when Doma feeds them nothing but what they want to hear, their devotion only thickens- no matter how wrong his intentions are.

You would have puked by now if you there was anything in your stomach to puke.

It would probably smell like roses. Everything about you smells like roses since that nightmarish bath. Your hair, your skin, your clothes- and since you literally soaked your lungs with it- even your breath is a floral air-freshener.

It would have been nice if you didn't associate the smell with Doma and his snowflake touch.

"I understand..." His carefree words are swept away, so weightless they're incapable of sticking in your brain. Honestly- you just want this to end. You hate being kept here, completely out of control of yourself- waiting for the moment Doma decides to use your promise- all while being smothered in his constant chatter as he devotes the time he isn't managing his cult to playing with you.

A strand of hair twirls around, around, around your finger, and you get the sudden compulsion to chop it.

Before your stir-crazed mind can decide to do anything drastic, however, a sensation softer than the hair wrapped around your finger meets your hand. You blink- face to face with a fox.

A memory of four warm bodies, sheltering you in your time of vulnerability softens the edges of your eyes.

"Are you...?"

The fox- once kitten-sized- is now...well- still kitten-sized. Maybe puppy-sized. Poor guy must be the runt. He doesn't reply, opting to rest his cute head in your hand. 

"Well." You whisper, rubbing his chin despite your bewilderment. "It's nice to see you, too."

What is it Muzan wants to hear you say?

You told him his pawns were powerful. You praised him for being even more powerful than them. Is that not the reason he sent you to Azaka? Or Daki and Gyutaro, for that matter? Even in the accidental clutches of Doma feels like an allowance made by the Demon Lord.

What are you missing?

Your strand of hair finds itself in Doma's hand, leading you to the edge of his man-made paradise. 

"Oops." He covers his smile with one hand while the other plays mindlessly with your soft locks. You'll never get used to his cold fingers. However delicately they feel your strands of (h/c) or brush the fabric of your kimono, you feel a frenzied pressure just barely contained behind his fingertips that makes your shoulders tense and your mask harden.

"Looks like we're a little early." He hums in disappointment.

You're okay with that. It's been a while since you've seen a sunset. The shadow of Doma's dark abode keeps you alive in its cool cover, but just a step- maybe two- and the shade ends, meeting the sun's golden touch. A beautiful garden extends all the way to the woods, where the soft sound of a river rushes into your ears. Closer, is a fountain of trickling water in the middle of a patio painted with wild roses. A handful of fruit trees laden with glossy fruit dot the scene, but it's roses that dominate the ground, walls, fences, and air. No wonder your bath smelled so potently, and the sweet aroma insists on clinging to you long after. There's no end to the roses here.

In the summer glow of a sunset, it's almost enough to fool you into believing Doma's Eternal Paradise. How nice it must be to have lived well over a hundred years and this be his backyard. It looks nearly untouched. Surely, it must be older than any of the demon's devotees, and you have a feeling it will continue to be long after they're dead. 

It looks so...warm. The waning sunbeams caress each petal with a gentleness that says, yes, I see you. You are beautiful. I love you. A few tired bees bask in the encouraging light, finishing a day of hard work. Your demon eyes, sharper than your human ones, spot Yip, who's been popping around corners here and there to steal a couple chin scratches before scampering off to wherever, creeping through the rose bushes. He finds a patch of sunlight in the thorns and drapes himself happily over it.

Just a couple minutes to dusk. Your eyes glistening with a forgotten love. Without realizing it- you've taken a step forward, heart pulled toward that sinking ball of warmth, the memory of sun on your skin burning in your mind- burning in your heart- 

Two hands harshly snatch you away from the shadow's edge before the sinking ball of warmth can burn your skin,  too.

"What are you doing?" You almost don't recognize the voice hissing in your ear. "That's the sun."

Strange, you think slowly, still shocked by the jolting force gripping your arms and the dawning realization connected to the dipping sun. You've been suffering so much- you've felt pain well beyond the human point of death. But you're not dead. Not even close. Akaza's fist in your stomach, Daki's claws on your face, and Muzan's punishments so fast you're not even sure what he uses to crush you with- all of which still sting your skin.

And yet the gentle hug of sunlight is what could kill you.

You understand why Muzan is so incessantly fixated on conquering the sun now.

You remember he had a flashback in the anime (contrastingly non-tragic to most of the other demons). He mentioned something about how humiliating it was to cower from the sunlight, and- if you think about it now- that must have really hurt his ego. Enough that he risked sharing his power to find a cure.

Ah...the sun.

 

"I also believed in a demon above all others. Their creator, ruler, and pinnacle. Someone so powerful he could conquer the sun."

 

Oh. Oh. Those were your words, yes? This whole time- the whole reason you've been suffering-

It's because you ran your stupid mouth.

But what were you supposed to do in the moment? Except the death Muzan- and only Muzan- could give you? No- of course not. So you said exactly what you thought he wanted to hear. A shot in the dark.

And oh man did you hit the target.

"The sun." Your lips move silently. "The sun." You say aloud.

For a second- the chatter-box looks at a genuine loss for words, staring at your wide (e/c) eyes as something strange swirls in his chest. It makes him want to laugh at the stupid expression on your face, but then he remembers your hand- about to cross the line between life and death- adding a strange twist of horror to his amusement.

He misses the thought that flashes past your eyes, but he definitely feels your hands suddenly cup his face. His eyes widen ever so slightly. A new sort of shine enters his rainbow eyes as he wonders if...

He glances down out your lips.

A shiver of excitement sprinkles itself into the brewing storm of amusement, panic, and- something else in Doma's chest.

The veil separating the two of you last time was a fun experience. What made it better was seeing past your head at Akaza's disgusted expression, probably believing he was witnessing two men making out. Not that Doma was against the idea, but he knew better.

The thought of your real lips on his- without your physical veil of grime nor your metaphorical veil of masculinity-

His lips turn up in a smile that would normally scare you, but you're not looking at Doma right now. You're looking at Muzan. Wherever he is and whenever he decides to look into his Upper Moon Two's memories, he'll see and hear this:

"Ah, the sun." You breathe, turning your head to the last glimmer of light. Just in time, too. You have no idea what you just dodged. "Yes. Every demon fears it. Not even the great Demon Lord has managed to tame it- and yet..." you hum and let your words sink into a song because this is just too funny.

He thinks you lied, doesn't he? But you didn't.

 

"I also believed in a demon above all others. Their creator, ruler, and pinnacle. Someone so powerful he could conquer the sun."

 

Nezuko will conquer the sun, so Muzan could, too.

If he ever manages to absorb her.

Muzan wants you to understand that your words are blasphemy if said without meaning. His power has always been nothing under the sun- so to hear a human boy with no apparent concept of what power is to even speak of conquering the sun must have been infuriating.

"I understand." You breathe turn back to Doma. There's layers to those two words. They extend past the Upper Moon Two and his masked emptiness, past Muzan and his obsessions, and deep into your secret knowledge where your words are made final.

"But I do not refute my words. The sun will be conquered."

'Just not by you.'

Doma blinks.

"Huh?"

 

 

---

Taisho Era Secrets!

---

Doma didn't see you naked. Phew.

Doma told his cult that the baby boy he was holding was his and yours son, but he doesn't like the idea of them knowing you.

Yip misses his siblings.

Chapter 6: Dying Flowers

Notes:

This chapter will contain spoilers concerning Kanae Kocho for anime watchers. Ironically, I am also an anime watcher and have not read the manga. I have, however, read a lot of fanfiction and seen a lot of KNY reels on my fyp. Safe to say- I have been spoiled. You have been warned.

 "Huh?" Doma blinks. His head tilt is almost puppy like.

'Right.' Your lips twitch ever so slightly. 'He has no idea what I'm talking about. He just got the most out-of-context line of my entire life.'

And, honestly, you don't care enough to explain yourself.

You hear crickets. Under the aroma of flowers is the scent of moist earth. A southern breeze plays with your hair. Oh- and Doma. Even in utter confusion, his fingers continue tangling themselves in your hair.

It's not just the air that feels fresh. Your mind is finally free of Muzan's parting words that have been a crushing pressure for the last...however long you've been here. Perhaps it's been hours. It could have been years. Nezuko slept for two, remember?

Anyway, you're free- if only for a second.

"Don't worry." You murmur, letting yourself soak in the momentary reprieve. A rare smile lights your face the second the sun dips below the horizon. "Just talking to myself."

It's then that you realize you're still holding Doma's face. His ice cold skin soaks into your hands for a second longer as the space between you seems so small- is it getting smaller?

You hastily snatch your hands back and take a large step away from the Upper Moon Two, barely refraining from wiping your hands on your kimono.

You suppose obsessively thinking about Muzan made you forget the immediate situation you're in. Suddenly- just like the crickets, flowers, and breeze- you can feel Doma's weirdly adoring gaze coveting every inch of you, as if he were a black hole trying to strip away the layers if your skin, and the ghost of his touch lingering in your hair.

'Mm, time for a haircut.' You think while thinking of an excuse to get away from him. It's only just dawning on you how suffocating his presence has been. You didn't realize because you were drowning in your thoughts, but now that you've escaped that, you're in desperate need of a place without his sparkling rainbow eyes weighing on your skin.

"I- um- I don't like...roses." 

With that, you leave.

---

"I wonder if this counts as a hobby." You hum while snipping your hair. It felt like a chore when you were a human, but now it's become a sort of grounding action for you as a demon. "Thank you for the scissors, by the way."

"N-no! Please let me thank you for allowing me to be in your glorious presence! Even if it is slightly dimmer than our great Lord Doma's!"

'What the-...' You make a herculean effort to mask the weirded out expression that wants to scrunch your face at the maid laying prone on the ground. 'Don't tell me Doma's cult actually believes I'm married to him. And- come on- they expect me to look as ethereal as him, too?'

"Yeah... just..." you try to find words that don't scream run for your life! without actually screaming run for your life! "...don't throw your life away for him."

"B-but..." the dull, charcoal-haired girl shoots up as if you just set fire to her house.

"You can find meaning in life without him, you know? Perhaps- um- he makes it easy, but sometimes finding things out the hard way has its rewards. Like- you get to truly own what you find. Doma- Lord Doma wants what's best for you, right? So he'd want you to learn and grow with experiences outside of here."

You have to cover your face with your newly cut bangs to hide your cringe because you're being pretty obvious with your intentions here. To get her to leave.

You really doubt anything in her life will be drastically altered because of you, and- to be honest- you're not willing to put more effort into changing that. The only reason you said anything was because you felt guilty for that being the case. You're guilty of being helpless. You're guilty of not trying harder. You're guilty of knowing the dangers of this paradise, and letting her delve deeper and deeper into it.

It's just- she's not even mentioned in the anime. While you do earnestly care about other people, you aren't going to pretend to be a saint. That title was flung farther than you could ever hope to reach the second you realized you were reincarnated into Demon Slayer. You know you've already failed so many souls. Her life was probably going to end here either way, and it wouldn't make a difference.

You're biting your tongue so hard blood starts to trickle from the corner of your mouth.

"Oh- uh- you're bleeding! Let me get you some tissues." She snaps out of whatever daze she'd been possessed by and scrambles to her feet, running out the door.

You only pray that she keeps running.

A couple more quiet minutes of snipping pass by, and you start to wonder if your prayer worked. Or perhaps she was wearing a mask, like you, and pretending to not be weirded out by a woman cutting her hair in the fashion of a boy. An opportunity to escape you, and she took it.

That's what you like to think.

It's not like her motionless body lies in puddle of her own blood just down the hallway as her god stares emotionlessly down at her because he doesn't really like the idea of anyone else knowing your secret. His secret. Our secret.

You grab a mirror and inspect your work.

It's...pretty good, actually. Your recent haircuts have been more of hair massacres as you ripped the length off before it could betray you. But now that you have time, a mirror, and actual scissors, you're able to get a nice shape and length. It makes you wonder what other haircuts you could do.

'Later.' You think, knowing 'later' may never come. Somehow, as a being with the image of immortality to look forward to and the future in the back of your mind, you can only think of surviving to the next sunset. 'Later, when I'm safe.'

For now, you're pretty happy about your hair.

"Why would you do that?" A faux voice smiles. Except- he's not smiling. When you turn, in the center of your fallen locks, Doma's face has finally lost its smile.

Leaving utterly bleak emptiness.

"This isn't the real you." He whispers, taking a step forward.

He's nothing compared to Muzan. And yet-

You flinch when he abruptly appears in front of you, reaching out with trembling hands for the empty space between your shoulders and ears. The space your hair used to be.

'Bruh. It's just hair.' A trickle of sweat runs down your brow. 'And- who are you to decide who the "real" me is?'

"I'm still me." Instinct tells you that backing away from here would not work. So you carefully take his hands in yours and put a soft smile on your face. "Does it really matter what length my hair is or if I wear a veil?"

'Speaking of- I'd really like you to give it back to me, jerk.' 

"But..." he whimpers, "I like your hair."

Obviously.

"Well, it's gone now."

You could've put it more lightly.

"Bring it back." He whispers- hands moving easily despite your efforts to keep them still to your head. "I want the real you. I can't understand you if you keep pretending."

His fingers tangle themselves around your head and start pulling- tugging- yanking your hair as if it were wound up tightly in your skull. 

"L-lord- Doma!" You gasp, fighting uselessly to remove his hands as they jerk your head from side to side. "I can't- my hair doesn't just grow!"

"It doesn't?" It's like he remembers something. The fingers clawing your hair, have disappeared, replaced by gentle hands smooth your rat's nest. As easily and jarring as a light switch, he's all cheery again. "Of course it doesn't! Demons aren't supposed to age or change, so naturally growing your hair longer than its original form is simply impossible!"

'Wait- actually?'

"Soo, your natural length must be long!" He claps happily. Too happily. You're starting to believe he has an delusional picture of you in his head. All this 'real you' this and 'real you' that feel like icy chains gagging and twisting you just to make you dance to pretty song of Doma's choosing. "Or, you have a Blood Technique that affects it..." He muses with his finger to his chin, looking slightly less happy. "...that would a pretty useless Blood Technique. It's probably just a side affect of your real Blood Technique."

He looks at you.

"Nah." He giggles, threading his fingers through your new hair cut. You bite back a flinch when he touches you. You haven't forgotten his painful yanking just moments prior. "You're too weak to have a Blood Technique."

You- who had actually perked up at the mention of a Blood Technique- deflate. But then suck back in a little air. Doma said demons aren't supposed to grow hair past their 'natural length,' and your hair was short when you were turned by Muzan. The fact that you keep waking up to find it long has to mean something. Whether that be a Blood Technique or a sign of some wacky kind of regeneration, you don't know. But you'll take it.

'I really am weak if I'm going to grasp at straws like this.' You sigh. Doma rolls backwards then springs to his feet. When he steps out the door, you make the mistake of believing he was leaving.

"Well, aren't you coming?" He turns around with that innocent head tilt.

You blink.

"Where? The garden?"

He rolls his eyes.

"No, to feed you." He laughs then holds out his hand. It looks inviting until you realize you can't decline it. A sick feeling enters your stomach.

"I'm not- hungry." You hesitantly allow him to haul you up from the floor.

"You don't have to be hungry to eat, doll." He brings you to his side, and his hand reaches out of habit for the space behind your waist- only to find it empty. "Hair needs energy to grow, and it won't if you're running on an empty stomach." He chuckles, guiding you somewhere you have a feeling you really don't want to go to. "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't feasted on any of my worshippers. I specifically brought the best smelling ones in, so to- ah- entice you." He hums like offering you human sacrifices is a sweet gesture.

"Thank you." You murmur, well aware you're on thin ice despite how cheerful he may seem now. "But my diet is...special."

Nonexistent, actually. But you don't want Muzan rummaging through Doma's memories and finding out you deceived him that one time.

"Oh?" His voice floats to your ear from behind. "And I even brought a marechi in for you. You really must be a picky eater." 

"...yes."

"What kind of humans do you like then? Men, perhaps, since you don't seem interested in any of my female followers? Young, old? I bet young. You seem like the type to eat babies."

You're...speechless.

'What does that even mean!? Who does he think- when did I ever ask- babies!? WhoOo- what- '

"They're so- raw you know? Especially infants. Life's sorrows haven't touched their hearts or their bodies, so they're very tender. A little unsatisfying, but mild and juicy."

You're still speechless.

"I think there was a village somewhere in the east with a lot of women. I betcha one of them will have a baby for you!"

You're not sure how to properly articulate to his face that he is the second most screwed up demon in the whole world and- politely- should stop existing, so you just- stand. In stunned silence.

Doma misinterprets it as embarrassment.

That's okay. You're a new demon, right? That pink-haired meat-head must have accidentally turned you and upon seeing how weak you ended up being lashed out. Akaza's always been obsessed with strength, so creating something as...not strong as you probably damaged his ego.

Yeah...that's it. He was starving you in punishment, too. That brute. With just a little nourishment, you'll definitely brighten up (and grow back your hair). Akaza definitely didn't feed you much less ask what you like to eat. Doma wonders if you'll thank him.

His smile gets a little wider at the thought.

"I don't...like...babies."

"Oh?" Doma blinks. "What about men? Boys?"

"...no."

'I don't want to eat anyone.'

"You poor thing." 

You blink, finding yourself encased in Doma's arms and cheek pressed against his hard chest. This conversation has been so perverted that you can't find it in yourself to be flustered.

"That brute didn't let you eat anything did he? You don't even know what you like because you don't know what you dislike. I'm surprised you've survived this long. You're lucky that I found you, y'know?" He hums, patting your head. "Who knows what else Akaza would have done to punish something as weak as you. Don't worry." He leans away while keeping you in an embrace you know you couldn't get out of if you tried. You shiver as he brushes a piece of hair from your face, voice lowering into a soft whisper. However soft he may sound, it still comes out of a ear-splitting smile that's torn into too much flesh to know the meaning of kindness. "I'm here now, and we'll show each other how to be happy."

You swallow.

"So!" He switches back to his cheerful facade and steps away, giving you a moment to breathe. "First, let's get you something to eat!"

He's fast. Way faster than you. One second you're in his paradise- the next, wet summer air is rushing past you and everything is a blur of moonlight and trees.

"W-where- " You stutter. How the- you must be miles from Doma's Eternal Paradise by now, and you keep getting farther. You've witnessed the Upper Moon's speed before, in sudden flashes and wicked-fast attacks, but actually experiencing it is something else. As the shock begins to wear off, you realize you're gripping Doma's thin blood red shirt, like he were life itself. Embarrassed, you loosen your hold- only to come back with two hands because holy- he just jumped over a cliff, and now the both of you are plummeting to your deaths.

Obviously, you don't die. But you'd like to. Doma has paused his easy sprint to adjust you in his arms and just noticed your death grip on his shirt. He chuckles.

"You're scared?" He asks, like this is a wonderful discovery. You try to glare up at him, but it doesn't work. Doma's rainbow eyes simply gleam as they soak in the slight quiver of your lip and panicked slits of your pupils. You do a good job of acting emotionless, but Doma can see through it. You're simply bursting with feelings. If he holds you against his heart just a little tighter- like this- maybe he'll feel something, too.

"I'm fine." You reply, wondering why it suddenly feels as though he's...squeezing you?

"Of course."

This night simply can not get any worse.

---

 

 

 

Spoiler! It does! And- everything considered- you suppose...it makes sense.

You pant as blood and saliva drip from your mouth.

There's a girl lying in a growing puddle of red. Her raven-black hair spills around her head, soaking in the ruby liquid seeping out from the back of her head. The black uniform above her stomach is ripped. The only rip in it. Fabric like the one she's wearing isn't meant to be scratched by a lowly demon such as your self. A careful slit created by the deadly hands of Upper Moon Two is the only reason you have access to the soft, pale skin of her stomach. Inside the rip is a gory painting of torn flesh and crimson blood.

The same blood coloring your lips. 

Your eyes shake as you soak in everything from her small feet to her delicate butterfly clip.

She's so...tragic.

In the anime, you remember first seeing her. It was a flashback that wasn't even about her. Kanao, a fragile child that had shattered long ago, was the main character of those couple minutes. Her turning point was a kind girl with raven hair and a pretty pink smile.

Just like the girl at your feet.

Kanae Kocho. The elder sister of Shinobu Kocho.

'Right.' You think numbly. Your bloody hands hold themselves. 'Doma killed her in the anime, didn't he?'

The sun is a couple minutes from rising, and yet- you can't make your feet move. You don't want to move. Your eyes simply can't tear themselves from her.

This means... canon will start in three or so years. Kanae was seventeen when she died, making Shinobu fifteen when she lost the most important person in her life. You know there are so many other characters that lost their loved ones even earlier- Tanjiro, Muichiro, Genya and Sanemi- the list goes on. But it hits differently when you see it in person. In the distance, you can almost see a silhouette of a small teenager running as fast as her legs can carry her- praying- crying- hoping it won't be her. It won't be her to be left behind. Hoping it won't be her sister that she finds in the wake of death a demon of far greater power than any hashira could take on has showered these unsuspecting people with.

Your try to wipe the blood off your lips, but you only end up smearing more blood on your face.

From afar, Doma watches you. You told him you wanted some privacy, something he didn't really understand after dropping his 'gift' in front of you.

 

"You want me...to leave?"

"Just some space." You murmur with a small smile that you hope looks like gratitude and betrays nothing of your horror. "I'm...a little embarrassed is all." You gently pick the Flower Hashira up. Doma's present to you. Her mouth watering blood trickles from the back of her head and onto your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the feeling you get every time you see a canon character. It's feels like a physical firework in your chest now that you're experiencing a canon event. Above the horror, above the bloodthirst, and above everything else- for a moment you feel at home.

"You see- I'm kind of a messy eater."

 

The sun really is about to rise.

With immense work, you take a step toward Doma- only to be stopped by a frail hand holding your ankle.

"Please..." Kanae's soft voice is nothing more than a whisper, "...please...tell me your name."

"I don't think that matters." You whisper back.

"It does." She sounds so firm despite bleeding out and unable to speak louder than a dying breeze. "I need to know who...to thank."

"For what?" You bend down to gently pry her hand from your ankle.

"For saving me."

The silence is long.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." You turn just enough to catch her eyes. They're the most tender shade of lilac, wavering with pain and exhaustion- but full of sure kindness. Kindness directed at you. "I've...never told anyone my name." You murmur, the realization dawning on you as you say it.

"Here."

You look down. She's offering you...a handkerchief?

Her lips move to say something, but then you see the sun.

In seconds, you're darting through the shadows and leaping through and around destroyed buildings all the while sunbeams chase your heels. You don't stop until you're safely tucked in the shadow of a giant boulder. You stare at the handkerchief for a second. It's still warm. And it's embroidered with little wisteria trees.

You untie a ribbon from your kimono belt then tie it to two corners of the handkerchief. You use it as a makeshift veil to cover your face.

And just in time.

"There you are." A voice grumbles as you feel a fist collide with your bleeding gut.

'I recognize these knuckles- this force- the slight twist at the end- yes.' You cough up blood. 

Akaza.

You didn't think he'd remember you- much less come back for you. Is he really so infuriated with your weakness that he came to personally hunt you down the second Doma wasn't looking? If he wanted to kill you that badly, he should have done it when he first had you. 

Still, you can't bring yourself to hate Akaza.

You hate demons. You're hate their dangerous puzzles and twisted games. Doma's suffocating presence, Daki's jealous fury, Muzan's negligent attention- because none of them make sense.

You feel a little betrayed by canon. Isn't Muzan only supposed to care for his precious blue spider lily, the secret to eternity? Shouldn't Daki have just wrapped you in her obi, and left you to burn in the sunlight with no clear orders from Muzan to keep you alive? Is Doma really emotionless under his cheery, carefree attitude, or are you imagining the flickers that pass behind those rainbow eyes and send shivers down your spine?

Akaza is perfect.

Certainly not in any moral sort of perspective- but in accordance to canon, he's doing a wonderful job. Standing ovation. Encore! Encore!

He makes sense.

You're weak. He hates weakness. He's acting on that hatred.

So simple. You could kiss him.

~

Pink hair. Stony muscles. And markings in semblance to human criminals. He lives for battle. The need to be stronger- stronger than anyone- drives his stubborn and near desperate pursuit to fight. His battle-craze comes from a place he doesn't even quite remember. Memories twisted in foggy darkness haunt his mind with the word 'weak'.

"You misunderstand, Tanjiro. I only despise the weak. I only spit on weaklings. Yes. Weaklings make me sick. It is the law of nature that they be weeded out."

~

He was a good guy as a human. Certainly not perfect, but he had a good heart and wanted to protect the weak with the strength and skill he was blessed with. But when it came down to it and he was weak, it must have felt like a punishment to have everything stripped from him. 

You sort of wonder...if you had lost all your memories that were good and had only the empty husk of your human life left- what kind of life would you be leading now? You'd probably hate anything that reminded you of that husk. A liar, who belonged nowhere. A failure, who hid from reality. You had always sort of known what this world was. And yet you waited for "proof" to make a difference.

How many people have already died because of you?

Ah. This almost hurts more than his fist in your stomach. 

Memories swirl around your head, of Akaza's life and yours. You're in so much pain you can't stop them. Seriously- is this going to happen every time you let your guard down around new canon characters?

Ah, well. You're probably going to die, so it doesn't really matter. A patch of warm sunlight illuminates a small clearing just past your boulder, and you have a feeling you'll headed there very shortly. You don't want to die. You have so much to do- it doesn't feel right to be killed before plot can even start. But- if your plan worked- you managed to save at least one person. 

'A life for a life.' You cough up blood.

And- maybe you can do one other good thing before passing away.

A little of the blood you coughed up landed on Akaza's cheek. Usually, he'd just wipe it away- but he's in the middle of trying to understand how a disgustingly pathetic demon blocked him. His fist is digging into your stomach, but between the his hand and your stomach- is your hand.

In perfect replica of the time Sanemi punched Tanjiro during the Hashira Training Arc.

"Hey." You whisper weakly. His vibrant orange eyes shoot up to meet yours lidded (e/c) irises.

His composure almost falters. 

"You've hurt a lot of people." Your hand shakes as it rises. It slides up his chest, following one of his blue stripes. "I- I can't speak for them." You whisper, voice thick with blood. "But I forgive you."

Then you smile.

The funny thing is- those are the very words you crave to hear. The words you're willing to break, bend, burn, and die for. 

The singular patch of sunlight moves with the sun, coming closer, but Akaza makes no move to throw you in it.

You pull your palm out from under his fist, letting it sink into your bloody flesh. Letting feel him feel the blood trickle down his fist.

Tainted gold atop fractured blue. He stares at you.

And then it's ruined.

"Ah! There you are." A very different voice shatters the moment. "Oh, you're here, too!" Doma gasps happily, seeing the pink-ette.

Akaza closes his eyes as every muscle in his body clenches. It's kind of terrifying. And hot.

'I'm gonna die. It's fine. I can think whatever I want.'

"Look at that~ you found my little doll. My deepest thanks." He skips to your side and tries to tug you away.

You choke back a scream of pain. Could he maybe try to remove Akaza's fist first? You weren't really expecting to be saved by Doma, but he should try saving all of you and not just your upper half. 

"Is something the matter?" Doma blinks when Akaza makes no move to release you.

"Lord Muzan has requested I bring him." He states, not even trying to hide his contempt. The two people he probably hates most in the world are in front of him, so he's doing pretty good.

"Ohhh." 

A moment passes.

"Why?"

Akaza finally takes his fist out of your stomach. "You don't need to know."

"Actually." Doma holds you tighter. "I do."

Akaza doesn't even look at the Upper Moon Two.

"He-" Doma gives you a smile that speaks more threats than his tongue ever could. "Owes me something."

"You can collect it later."

Doma pouts. "But-"

Twang.

.

.

.

"Do you understand?" Muzan's rich voice reverberates through you and into the endless castle of rooms.

"Yes."

You soak in every detail of him. Evil still oozes out of him like a pile of rotting trash. He's wearing a black collared shirt today with a white tie and pants. Liquid bubbles in one of his instruments, but his notes look untouched. Several pens lie neatly on the corner of his desk.

His fuchsia eyes bore directly into yours.

"Hm."

And he gets back to work.

'Strange.' Akaza's violent presence is completely underwhelming under the heavy pressure of Muzan Kibutsuji. 'He's hardly done anything while I was gone.' You're pretty sure that vial on the corner of his desk had that exact same liquid the last time you were here. And did he even change clothes?

As seamless as water, you immediately shape yourself around the Demon Lord and bend to his every step, breath, and thought. Eyes soaking in the smallest bits of information.

For a second, though, you glance at Akaza and his slightly bewildered, orange and shattered blue whites. When he catches your (e/c) stare, his eyes narrow. That's fine. Let him hate you. It's keeping you sane in this ever confusing world of demons.

Your lips quirk up as a trail of blood trickles from the corner of your mouth and your stomach slowly begins repairing itself.

"Send him away, Nakime."

"As you wish my Lord."

Twang.

.

.

.

---

The Butterfly Estate is a husk. A summer breeze seeps in through the open window, bringing with it the smell of flowers. Fitting for the delicate girl wrapped in bandages and lying in a soft bed. Kanae always liked flowers. It inspired Shinobu to begin crafting poisons out of them. Although pretty and delicate seeming, the soft purple petals from wisteria spell death for demons if used just the right way. Like her sister. Pretty and delicate- but deadly. 

And...fleeting.

Shinobu holds vial of lavender poison, gently swirling the contents between her index finger and thumb. She's not sure it could kill an Upper Rank- much less Upper Moon Two- but she likes to think it will get there. She will get there. She will lace her sword with the most potent and painful of all poisons then add a thousand more. When she slices open Doma's neck, he will feel hell's fire, and know a small fraction of Shinobu's own pain.

The smile on her lips feels forced. She's sure it looks fake next to Kanae's- the original- but she has to try. Over time, like her poisons, she'll perfect it. 

A pile of bloody gauze, string, and a needle sit next to Shinobu. She knows women in this era aren't supposed to be doctors, and it almost makes her feel proud to have stitched her elder sister's head together at the age of 15.

Almost.

However strongly Shinobu wished against it while she ran and ran and ran to her sister's side, a sinking sickness in her stomach told her her sister was dead. However fast she ran, she couldn't help but feel she was already too late. Her sister was dead or would be soon.

And- she was right. She fell at Kanae's side as tears tumbled from her eyes and onto her sister's pale face because not only was her head split open- the flesh of her stomach had been ravaged by the teeth and claws of a demon.

She cursed them all in that moment.

She would never never be able to look at a demon and feel anything but hatred. She was different from her sister like that. And she dearly hoped it would keep her alive long enough to avenge her. Who- she needed to know- who did this to her-

 

"She...saved me." Kanae's trembling fingers move to the wound in her stomach and...remove it. A chunk of flesh completely disconnected to her, falls to the floor with a sickening splat. 

"She dug out her own stomach out and pretended to feast on me with it."

 

Shinobu trembles, the smile she was working so hard on dissolving in the tears that run down her cheek.

A young demon girl with (h/c) hair, (s/c) skin, and plain (e/c) eyes that look afraid. That's what Kanae said before her eyes finally fluttered shut. 

Shinobu cursed demon's in that moment. 

But she held the hand of her sister- colder and paler with loss of blood, unresponsive to her tears and words- and felt a steady pulse.

 

 

---

Taisho Era Secrets!

---

Shinobu wants to thank the mysterious demon, but she doesn't know how.

Muzan specifically told Akaza to bring MC back the summer solstice, but because of Doma hiding you and your scent with roses, he was late by a couple days.

Doma is angry.

Chapter 7: The Art of Shadows

Occasionally, Muzan will send you to one of the Lower Twelve Kizuki. He deals personally with the Upper Ranks, so you hardly see them anymore. In fact, you have a feeling Muzan sends you away specifically when he's meeting with them. Maybe he looked into their memories and saw something that wasn't to his liking. You wouldn't be surprised. It's very hard to get Muzan to like anything past his precious blue spider lily.

In any case, you get to interact with six Lower Ranks of Muzan's Twelve Kizuki then report back to Muzan.

It feels a little heartless, but your reviews are never nice, regardless of their actions. Your words, as you kneel at the feet of Muzan and stare fixatedly up as he works, are always gentle, never biting. But they drip subtle poison on their image, slowly, but surely staining it red.

You know Muzan will kill them all, anyway. Except for Enmu. Man, you wish he would kill Enmu. So this all could seem pointless. If- however- if there's a chance you get him to kill them all sooner, then you know you'll have saved at least a hundred human lives. It's soul-numbing to witness the demons with power equal to or beyond most hashira- and far more than a normal human- hunt their prey with delight for days on end. And they brag about it, too. They're not dumb enough to think they're babysitting you, so they treat you like a figure from HQ coming to do inspection- unlike the Upper Ranks, who've grown comfortable enough in their permanent thrones above and treated you however they pleased. While you do your 'inspection,' they proudly show off their grand power and hunting prowess.

Unluckily for them, that just puts them even lower in your book.

They're short visits. A month at most. You've become more adept at sleeping and waking in short periods, but it's hardly restful. You carry yourself quietly and smoothly while half-healed cuts and fractured bones litter your body. It's an art, really.

Today, you're tailing the current Lower One - Ubume.

"Who raised you, boy?" She smiles gently, but you don't miss the underlying insult.

You remember reading something about her once. But because she never actually appeared in the anime, you basically know anything about her, much like the rest of the Lower Ranks. 

She gives female-Rui vibes, though.

"No one, my lady." You bow, not really giving her much attention. This is only your second time meeting her, and you've figured her out pretty quick. She's a selfish, sick person who covets the title of caregiver enough to torture the children she 'mothers' into staying sick and helpless. It probably gives her some sort of thrill to control their lives and some twisted boost to her ego when their poor manipulated minds actually thank her for her aid.

"I see." She pats the spot beside her, and you kneel. She's so tiny, her arm is almost fully extended as she caresses your cheek. "You poor soul. Who took care of you when you were sick? Was there anyone for you to thank?"

"I took care of myself, my lady." You keep your voice even and refrain from grimacing at her hand. "And I thanked any kindness offered to me."

"Really?" She hums. "Then why are you not thanking me?"

'Uh- for what? It's been less than a day, and you've already insulted my whole nonexistent family tree for failing to raise a "good boy."'

"There's not much to thank." You reply evenly to Ubume's invisible irritation. "I'm here only to observe, so you need not worry over my comfort. It would be too much for you to bestow anything worth gratitude on a lowly demon such as myself."

Ubume blinks. It doesn't take long for her to settle back into her loving smile.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." 

You don't really pay attention to her. She's the closest to being an Upper Rank, but that doesn't mean she's anywhere near that achievement. Remembering Daki's and Gyutaro's fight in the anime, you can hardly call her strong. She is sneaky, though.

"There was an epidemic in a neighboring village, and I'm sure there will be many needy children in its wake." Her smile doesn't waver as she slips on a pair of sandals and opens the door to a bright full moon. In fact- it gets larger. "You will be accompanying me, I presume?"

"No." You answer. 

Ubume rakes her blood red, kanji engraved eyes over your form kneeling at her table. A cup of blood as a gesture of formality and token of her goodwill (though she can't say she holds much for you) sits in front of you, untouched. Your short (h/c) falls over your blank eyes, but she can feel them watching her. A sensation commonly disliked among the Lower Ranks. 

"Suit yourself." She slides the door close.

You stay still.

The seconds pass by. Then minutes. An hour...

Finally, you stir.

Ubume's house is large, but it's fairly easy to navigate especially knowing her Blood Demon Art. By wafting her fragrance from an incense pot, creates vivid illusions.. The source of her power sits, invisible to prying eyes, atop a pretty glass display case.

You're genuinely have no idea how you know it's there.

It's kind of like when you met Lower Rank Two and knew immediately after making eye contact with him that he dabbled with shadows.

It wasn't surprising when you met Kyogai, the former Lower Six, and knew his power. You knew all about him from the anime and his ability to change the layout of his territory. And when you "accidentally" let it slip that he had reached his limit to Muzan, you met his replacement. Enmu.

Again, it wasn't surprising that you knew his Demon Blood Art. He tried to impress you with it, but you cut him off, already knowing everything about it. The only thing surprising about that interaction was finding out he was Lower Six and not Lower One.

Perhaps you moved up Kyogai's demotion earlier than you thought. It seemed the former Lower One, Ubume, was still alive. No matter, you told Enmu. He'd be Lower One very soon. You didn't catch the widening of his bright teal eyes nor the hitch of his breath at your words.

You did, however, notice both Kyogai and Enmu's Blood Demon Arts were perfectly clear in your head. Your knowledge wasn't limited to flashes of color and lines on a TV screen and anime-esque monologues about their powers- it was if you had an instructional manual carved into your mind. Into your body. For a second- you were crazy enough to believe you could follow it.

You slide open a door.

Three of the six heads swivel toward you.

"S-somebody- somebody's here. To save us!" A little boy with blood matted hair tries to sit up, but grunts and falls back on his pillow, taking panting breaths while his eyes glisten with tears.

"What are you doing here- " An older boy- probably sixteen and wearing a Demon Slayer Corps- uniform hisses. "You'll get killed! Hurry up and get of here while you can!"

"Eh...?" A little girl sits up, rubbing her eyes. She covered in bandages. "Who's that? Is it Mommy?"

"Nana..." the older boy sighs. "Ubume is not your Mommy."

"I- I know." She picks at her bandages. "She may not be real Mommy, b-but she saved me!"

He sighs, as if he's had this conversation too many times to try anymore.

"Would you care to tell me about your Mommy?" Your voice settles into the room. It sounds dead- a stark contrast to Ubume's false sweetness.

It's almost nice.

"Y-yeah!" The little girl's eyes brighten as you move to her bedside. "Mommy saved me when I was sick. She saved all of us."

Pained silence.

"...nobody thinks like me, though." She picks in a way that seems, like a nervous habit. "They say 'cause she keeps us sick that she's bad. B-but she saved our lives, so she's good! Mommy just...wants to take care of us..."

"I see." You reply. You take in her disheveled appearance. Her bandaged arms. The faint distrust she looks at you with. "Nana, does your mommy hurt you?"

Her eyes widen and dart away from yours. A finger picks at her bandages.

"Does she take care of you?"

"Yes." She whispers.

"Why does she take care of you if she hurts you?"

"B-because." Her eyes dart around for an answer that simply doesn't exist. "Um..."

"You have a forgiving heart." A smile quirks up your lips. Nobody can see it from under your veil, but even so, Nana thinks your expression is somehow warmer than Mommy's. "I hope you always keep that. But your mommy doesn't deserve it. She's going to kill you soon." It probably hurts her to hear this, but if everyone is going to get out of here, everyone has to want to get out of here. "All the other children that go missing eventually? They're in her belly."

The demon slayer, a couple beds away, widens his eyes.

"A-are you a demon slayer? You're not wearing a uniform, though... but you know about demons?"

"I am not a demon slayer." You answer.

He falls back onto his pillow. "Dammit." He grits out. "Sorry to break it to you- but you're stuck here. There's a demon torturing us, and she'll either kill you on the spot or make you another one of her 'kids'. Ugh- I thought they'd send a hashira by now!"

The little girl turns to you.

"Did Mommy bring you to make you better, too?" The little girl moves her hand to yours. You flinch when she brushes a deep cut across your knuckles. That was for grabbing the wrong vial for Muzan once. 

"No..." you move her hand away.

"Oh..." she frowns. "Then...why are you here?"

That's an excellent question. 

You can't just free them. That's way too suspicious and would earn even more ire from Ubume, who you're sure now doesn't appreciate being spied on. She'd surely tattle on you to Muzan, and you don't have a good enough excuse to keep your head.

Could you...give them instructions? You have to assume they're under Ubume's spell, which is why- along with their injuries- none of them have escaped. You wonder if they could even see the door you entered in. 

But that would make you suspicious to the demon slayer. If you really were here to help them, then why wouldn't you just lead them out? Giving them instructions then sauntering out like you owned the place would certainly ring warning bells in their heads. 

But...would trying even make a difference?

You didn't save anyone while you held captive in Doma's Eternal Paradise. You didn't even think about warning Daki's fellow courtesans. In general, you've done nothing to stop the bloodshed. There's Kanae- sure- but you don't even know if she made it.

These children are destined to die. It doesn't mean much to plot whether or not they live, so you shouldn't feel bad about abandoning them.

'No.' A voice that's tired whispers. 'Please.' A voice that feels every burning cut and gash that's ever been dealt to you. 'Not again.' A voice whispers that's angry. 'This time...' A voice whispers that still hopes. 'I can't leave them, too.'

As if hearing your innermost prayer- the desperate plea for another chance- a voice answers you.

"Come out, demon!" Somebody roars.

You blink.

"I'll kill you!" The grating voice reverberates through the thin walls- yet no one shows any sign of hearing it.

Under your veil, your face breaks into a wide smile.

"Can you walk?" You appear next to the demon slayer's side just a tad to quickly.

"U-um," he blinks, dazed, "No...but my partner can. He's sleeping over there."

He points to the bed opposite him. You fly to his side.

"Rise and shine." You lifeless voice sounds more adept at raising the dead than waking pitiful teenage boys- but whatever. Ripping his blanket off seems to do the trick.

"E-eh...?" He jolts up, hugging himself. "U-ubume- she's here- Please, don't hurt me- I won't try to run this time- "

You frown. He seems to be deeper in Ubume's spell than the others.

Without really thinking, you roll the sleeve of your kimono up. You feel your nails drag themselves down your forearm and beads of blood begin dripping down it. You slowly move your bleeding arm under the panicked demon slayers nose. Now...

"Shadow Blood Demon Art..." you whisper, a sense of euphoria rippling through your body. Your eyes shift- a deep red bleeding into your irises. It matches Ubume's eyes perfectly. "...Illusion Manifestation."

Immediately, the boy freezes. His pinpoint pupils dilate slightly, and he lets out a quivering breath.

"Wh-where I am?" He looks around and you let the fabric of your kimono cover your bleeding wound.

"Not safe." You quip and point at his partner, who's been watching the two of you in silence. "Could you carry him?"

"W-why?"

"We're leaving." You move to the other beds and start waking their occupants.

"Really?" He gasps.

You don't have time to answer him. If you're right- if you correctly remember the little information about Ubume that you have- then Sanemi Shinazugawa is here to kill her. While you would love to watch from a behind a corner the brutish demon slayer rip Ubume to pieces- you're sure he would recognize you as a demon instantly, unlike these two younger, less experienced demon slayers. He doesn't hesitate. He was the one to stab Nezuko at the Hashira Meeting (something you fully intend to prevent) with no prompting. He wouldn't give you a second to defend yourself before ripping you to pieces, too. 

For the children and your safety, it's best to get out of here now.

"But how do you know where to go?" The demon slayer, who's name is Uraga, asks suspiciously while climbing onto his partner's back.

"Ubume's illusions don't affect me." Ubume's illusions don't affect demons. "Come on, everyone, let's go." You gesture to the groggy kids waking from their slumber. There are questions and chattering, but you hold a finger to your veil and a cold breeze rushes through the small crowd upon seeing your narrowed eyes. Everyone shuts up.

You walk through the door and look behind you to see everyone following you. So far so good. You start walking down the hallway, but a little hand suddenly grabs yours.

"W-wait." A small boy gasps. "We can't go there! There's blood and teeth and spikes- "

Your index and middle finger slide his eyes closed. You look behind him and see the same fearful expression on the little boy on everyone else- save the demon slayer carrying his friend. Of course, you put him under an illusion of your own, so everything you see he sees. 

"Close your eyes, everyone." You murmur. "And hold each others hands. Don't let go."

---

You make it out of the mansion.

Immediately, the demon slayer holding his friend buckles at the knees, and you catch him before he can face plant. Carefully, you set his unconscious body and his friend on the lawn.

"Shouldn't we get farther?" The little who held your hand, still clings tightly to your fingers.

"No." You answer, staring at the mansion with your blood red eyes. "Ubume- your caretaker- will be dead soon."

The little girl- Nana- gasps in horror.

"B-but- "

It doesn't make you a stellar person, but you appear behind her and karate chop her neck.

"Ah!" The little boy, who was holding your hand a second prior, cries.

You don't try to comfort him. Instead- you're staring at the grim expression of the conscious demon slayer.

"You're a demon, aren't you?" Uraga mutters. His hand searches out of habit for his sword- only to find thin air. "So what now? Are you going to kill us?"

You stare at him. 

He glares defiantly up at you. You can see the microscopic twitch of his eyes as they move between your blood red eyes and the veil hiding your teeth.

"Onii-san," the little boy runs to your side and grabs your hand again, ignoring the startled protest of the demon slayer, "is Ubume going to find us? Is she going to hurt us, again?"

Your eyes slide down to the small boy, staring up at you with an emotion you haven't seen in a long while. Hope.

"No."

Your voice is all you leave behind, gone with speed that can only be described as inhuman. The little boy stares at the hand that held his, remembering its burning warmth. The demon slayer clenches his hand at the mixture of emotions swirling in his chest. The little girl dreams of a smile that isn't fake and doesn't hurt.

The other children...genuinely don't know what's happening.

---

Sanemi is so attractive.

If you cover your ears, you can almost imagine that his mouth isn't forming the most atrocious curses known to mankind with the grating voice of Satan. 

His Wind Breathing is brutal, too. You can almost feel the whipping force of his blows from where you watch hidden in a shadow as he attacks...thin air.

'Ah, right.' You slip out from your corner and stalk toward the room that holds Ubume's pot of burning incense. 'He's under Ubume's illusion still.'

You easily smash the old incense pot and trample out its weak embers. 

Really...you're almost disappointed.

Despite being the size of a mouse, you know her strength and speed are far superior to yours. Still- her Blood Demon Art is so weak. Smashing her incense pot doesn't get rid of her illusions, but it weakens them to a point of them being useless on a human who's fully awake.

You feel a little upset that she's the first demon you used your Blood Demon Art to copy. 

"Blood Demon Art..." you whisper, feeling the name roll around your tongue before slipping past your lips with barely contained excitement, "...Perfect Shadow."

Oh, well. Who cares if Ubume's Blood Demon Art is way too location focused and easy to sabotage? You have a freaking Blood Demon Art. And it's low-key cracked.

You should experiment with it some more. Find out what else you can do. How did it activate again? What did you do to-

You duck.

A loud crack splits the wall open, and your eyes rise fearfully up at a sword protruding out of the spot your neck had been seconds ago.

'Right...having Blood Demon Art means I'm still a demon. And demon slayers are gonna try to kill me.'

"You filthy demon! How dare you say those things to Sanemi! He doesn't need your pity!" He growls while charging at you.

It's sweet. Really. You don't remember anything about this guy, but it seems Sanemi had good friends in the Demon Slayer Corps before becoming a hashira. Friends that will get angry for him- even if they're anger is completely misdirected. Since you never knew he existed until now, however, it must means he either wasn't important...or dies.

Here. If you're trusting your gut.

Maybe it's the pride of actually saving people today. Maybe it's the euphoria of finding your Blood Demon Art. Maybe it's just pure stupidity. Whatever the case, you decide instead of running, you'll spread a little more good cheer and Christmas spirit.

"Shadow Blood Demon Art: Illusion Manifestation."

The world shifts ever so slightly. 

You push yourself off the ground and start running for your life. Your blood red eyes widen as they look behind you and see the approaching swordsman. He's already pried his sword out of the wall, like a knife out of butter, and is in hot pursuit. Just a little closer. One fatal swing-

"Wind breathing - Second Form! Claws Purifying Wind." He roars bring his blade down on your neck, ignoring your tears as they splash his cheek-

"Shadow Blood Demon Art: Sleep Inducement." A voice comes from next to the demon slayer's ear. He whips around- realizing a second too late that the demon he just cut through was a trick- only to meet a pair of bright teal eyes. "Sleep."

Your lips move behind your veil, and you catch the immediately limp body of Masachika.

---

Perhaps...using Enmu's Blood Demon Art to put the demon slayer to sleep wasn't a well thought out plan.

Still, you can't regret using it. It's intoxicating to feel power rushing through your body even if it doesn't belong to you.

Sanemi is still doing everything he can to decapitate Ubume, but the little she-demon is adept at dodging. And...

'He's tired.' You note the sweat dripping down his brow and the tremble of his sword. For Ubume, the battle has just begun, but for Sanemi, he's been using Wind Breathing Techniques for a while now even it was only against air.

"Your parents were cruel to you, weren't they, child?" Ubume purrs while dodging another swipe of Sanemi's sword. "Come with me. I'll treat you like a real mother should."

As the battle goes on, you realize there's no way Sanemi can win by himself. He's still like the Sanemi you know from canon but with less scars. While the only thing you want is to prevent him and everybody else from feeling the pain you know canon will bring, you can't help but think that maybe some of those scars you saw on the future Sanemi made him harder. They sharpened him and broke him until he was jagged with brutal anger- until any demon that witnessed his unblinking eyes trembled.

This Sanemi is far from soft, but he doesn't have the same bloody brutality. He's still young. He hasn't become a hashira yet. He hasn't lost a friend yet.

You look at the unconscious demon slayer next to you.

'I'm so selfish.' You clutch the sword you stole from Sanemi's friend. 'I know Sanemi isn't quite a match for Ubume yet- but I can't shake the feeling if this demon slayer wakes up and charges into battle he'll die. And I don't want to see anymore blood. I don't want to feel like everything is my fault.'

You watch Ubume jump around Sanemi's sword and deflect blow after blow. If you watch her just a little more...

"Right...left...jump...block...spin..." You murmur, Ubume's movements a blur of black hair and red eyes. No matter how fast she moves- you keep your eyes pinned on hers.

Then it happens.

Sanemi grips his gleaming sword and growls.

"Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm- " A sickening rip makes your insides churn as you watch him miss Ubume's neck and stumble to the ground. "Crap." He pants. "It reopened."

A large gash across his chest starts seeps blood, leaving a trail of- ah- the most- mouthwatering blood you have ever smelled...

Ubume does not have your preservations. She dives for the blood and brings her cupped hands to her lips. You see her pupils spread until there's hardly any red left in eyes. She staggers to her feet, like a drunkard, and covers a euphoric giggle.

"My, my I knew you were a marechi, but I didn't expect your blood to be so good."

She pauses.

"Who are you?" She points at the dark-haired demon slayer.

"Masachika!" Sanemi shouts. "It took you long enough!" He says that, but he can't stop the grin splitting his face open.

When no response comes, however, his eyes narrow.

"Oi, what's wrong with you?"

The dark-haired demon slayer grips his sword then rushes at Ubume, who's still giggling.

"HEY!" Sanemi shouts and can't hide the panic in his voice because something is wrong- Masachika's form has never looked so sloppy in his life- his face has never looked so dead- why is he running straight at-

Squelch.

Everybody's eyes move to Ubume's chest. 

"Shadow Blood Demon Art: Illusion Manifestation plus Flying Blood Sickle." Masachika's sword protrudes from Ubume's chest, and she's missing both legs. You were hoping to pin her to the ground, but you should have known better. She's a thousand times stronger than you, and the only reason you were able to pierce her heart at all was because you reinforced your attack with Gyutaro's Flying Blood Sickles.

She throws you off of her, and you skid across the ground definitely breaking one or two ribs. But not before screaming at Sanemi.

"Kill her!"

He doesn't need to be told twice. The mirage that was Masachika vanishes, revealing the real Masachika lying unconscious in the opposite room.

Sanemi grits his teeth, but doesn't let it distract him. Just- get this attack in- and-

Ubume dodges. Again.

She flung herself to the side just before getting decapitated and looks- well- furious.

"YOU!" She shrieks, pointing a sharp finger at your bruised body lying a couple rooms away. Her smile is gone now. "What are you doing betraying your own kind?" She hisses and looks like she's about to charge you, but Sanemi makes another swing at her neck. She parries it- but just barely.

"Damn you!" Sanemi growls, looking more and more like the beast you saw in the anime. "Just die!"

Ubume dodges and hisses. "Stay out of it, dear."

She's lunging at you now. If you don't move, she's going to skewer you. Not that you really care. You've felt worse. But if you're skewered, then you can't help Sanemi, and if you can't help Sanemi there's a chance she might win, and if she wins she'll go tell Muzan-

You push yourself out of the way just in time.

But she doesn't give you time to breathe.

"Right...left...jump...block...spin..." You mutter. She looks frazzled. Her perfect hair is falling out and she bears her fangs like a vengeful alley cat. "Right...left...jump...block...spin..." You repeat, following it like a dancer to her steps. You don't remember being this good at reading a person's movements. Then again- under the pressure of your master, you can predict Muzan's next whim if you concentrate enough. Perhaps, your Blood Demon Art helps too- being able to perfectly copy a demon's art makes you naturally better at reading them.

This feels...good.

You're- not fighting really- just dancing around her as she tears the air. But you're not a punching bag, either. In fact- you feel strangely in control. Your body moves with precision and careful timing- aware that just one blow from her and you would be incapacitated. Still- you saw it. When she was fighting Sanemi, you saw an opening. 

You'd never be able to kill her, though, even if you miraculously found it again.

So you make eye contact with Sanemi.

Pinpoint purple and blank (e/c).

You're air born- halfway through a flip to dodge Ubume's deadly claws. Your short hair surrounds your face, like a halo, as a your veil floats just enough to the side that Sanemi can see your lips, too pretty to belong to a boy, mouth two words.

"Let's win."

His heart suddenly burns. His feet are moving before he can give them say. His sword is raised. 

You kick Ubume's pretty snow white face into Sanemi's sword.

"AHHH!" She drips blood from where her eyes used to be, but you aren't done.

You land on the ground in a crouch then send your legs to swipe Ubume off her feet. She's got good reflexes and jumps to dodge, however- still blind and airborne- she's the perfect target for Sanemi.

"I missed." He grips his sword, landing behind you, as a spray of Ubume's blood lands on your face. Despite only her arm missing and her sight back, neither of you holds still for even a second. You're watching every slippery move of Ubume- obviously- but you're wide, unblinking stare also finds itself fixated on Sanemi as he twists and charges with more power than you could ever hope to have.

But- in a way you do. An unmistakable thrill zips through your veins with every attack you land on Ubume, but it's nothing compared to the smile that unfurls when you land an attack with Sanemi. It's like the stars align the first time. Then they align the second time. And the third- you start seeing the thread connecting you and Sanemi, wrapping tighter and tighter around Ubume's neck until she's gasping for air in a relentless tornado of attacks. 

'Is this what it means to "be in the zone?"' You think while scratching Ubume's eyes out for a fifth time. You can't land any fatal attacks, so you distract her then send her spinning to Sanemi where she just barely dodges his flurry of swings.

Just as you began reading Ubume, you begin reading Sanemi, anticipating his sword strikes, so you can compliment them by putting Ubume in a position where she can't dodge without losing at least a limb.

Ubume realizes she's going to die.

"Sanemi." She suddenly smiles, catching your fist just before it can gouge her eyes again. "You've had a hard life- why don't you come home where I can take care of you? I'll love you like your parents never did- "

"Behind you!" You shout. "Above to the right! Your Fourth Form!"

Without even moving his eyes to check what you mean, he whirls around, the tip of his sword connecting with flesh.

"Wind Breathing - Fourth Form: RISING DUST STORM!" He roars as blood explodes everywhere. 

A gust of wind hits you and sends you rolling over your head. The mirage of Ubume smiling while holding your fist vaporizes as the real Ubume's face rolls to a stop at your feet.

"He'll kill you." She whispers, eyes nearly popping out her head. They look just as the red seeping from her neck. "He'll torture you slowly. He'll rip you tiny shreds- and when he's done he'll kill that boy you decided to be buddy buddy with. You're nothing. You're weak, helpless, alone- "

Her mouth falls in an ashy clump to the ground.

"Perhaps." You tilt your head, veil dangling mysteriously over your expression. "But I'll find a friend someday."

She's gone.

You head falls back. Suddenly- everything aches. Your body and mind feel completely sapped and your eyes are pulsing strangely, so you close them, letting your sense dull as a quiet congratulations on killing Lower Moon One.

And that's where you made your mistake.

"Friends?" Sanemi's scar ridden face leers over yours, eyes wide as gasping breaths move your veil. "Demons don't have friends."

Sanemi's striking green sword protrudes out of your chest much like how you stabbed Ubume with Masachika's sword. Hah...even as he gets ready to kill you, the two of you are still playing off each other's moves.

"Sa- gah!" Blood leaks in the back of your throat and sprays over Sanemi's merciless face as you cough it up. "Please- " you garble, clawing at the blade splitting your heart in two. It's terrible. The niichirn metal burns against your flesh as if it were on fire. Tears start to collect in your eyes, as you look into Sanemi's lightless purple ones, close enough to watch as each syllable forms painfully on your tongue. "Let- me-...help you- "

You scream as he places a hand on your chest then slowly pulls his blade out.

"As if." He scoffs and raises his sword lazily. He knows he doesn't need a technique to sever your head.

You lie bleeding on the floor, silently begging with your eyes. Sanemi watches each tear leak from your eye and run down your cheek with obvious disdain. "Tch. Men don't weep over their deaths."

He'll admit, though...it's interesting to see something other than the cold eyes of an animal you hunted Ubume with. On a face that hardly twitched when taking the most aggressive attacks from Ubume in order to shield him- this look of pleading sadness looks almost...sacred. Sanemi feels like he may be the first person to ever see it.

He wonders what it would look like without your veil.

His sword comes down, but not on your neck. You flinch as the tip moves to touch the fabric covering your face. It flicks it away.

Sanemi freezes.

...

"What the hel- "

Twang

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