Chapter Text
The first time he heard the sound, he wasn't sure what it was.
Kokushibou had been walking through a forest for a while when it happened. A baby’s cry, but instead of coming from the forest, it seemed to come from inside his own head. It was faint, as if its cry came from far away but directly into his mind. For a moment, he thought it was his Master's doing, but what could be the meaning of that? What could Master gain from it?
A couple of minutes later, it stopped.
Kokushibou, unsettled in more ways than he cared to admit, continued his way.
That night was forgotten until it happened again, and again. It had no rhyme or reason as to when it would happen. It just did. And as annoying as it was, Kokushibou learned to live with it.
Over time, he would be walking and hear a pitiful whimper or be in the middle of a hunt and hear it letting out a scream. Whenever that happened, for just a second, he would stop and wonder what had made the creature wail in such a way. He would feel his already dead heart lightly squeeze in a feeling he didn't recognize now but remembered having felt before. Then he would shake his head and lock this feeling in the deepest corner of his mind immediately after. He had better things to worry about than a child he had never even seen.
The cries slowly became different. As the years flew he started to notice the cries were more and more subdued and were accompanied by small babbling. That was when he realized it was growing. He didn't know why, but that made him feel almost happy. As much as his chest felt a tiny bit heavier to know this just by the way it cried.
Over the years, he learned that sometimes the cries would become louder and louder still, whereas some others it would become muted but still present. Even when he didn’t understand why it happened, it seemed his heart did. He found his feet carrying him on paths where the wails were stronger. Paths he would have never followed before. Unconsciously, he started searching for the boy he had only ever heard.
Unfortunately for him, his job as upper moon one frequently meant he had to stop his search before he made any progress. It was one of these times when he felt anger towards Lord Muzan for the first time in four hundred years. He was no closer to finding him than before but his Lord insisted on sending him to this or that location where there might be clues for a flower they hadn’t found anything of even before he was transformed. He doubted two months off would make much difference. But he still went every time he was called, like the loyal servant he was... for the first time, he actually recoiled at the title.
Another couple of years went by. He had been listening to the boy’s pain and sadness for a little over five years, and yet, he hadn’t found him. The cries happened less frequently now, but whenever they did, they were as heartbreaking as before. Kokushibou had started to search actively in his spare time now; he was sure that the gods wanted him to find the boy for some reason.
He would never say out loud, but he cared little for gods. He only wanted to find the boy for his own selfish reasons. Reasons that not even he understood completely. He did not know what he would do once he found the baby. He was a demon after all, he could not care for the boy, nor would he want to. A human baby had no place in a demon’s lair. Lord Muzan would order him to either consume or convert him... somehow, neither option appealed to him. A small torn pierced his heart in that moment, resentment. He shook his head and kept on going.
Kokushibou had only ever heard cries, screams, and wails until that one night. The night that changed things. For six years, he had been listening without being able to do anything. Then, the pattern changed.
It started normally. One moment, there was silence; the next, a small whimper accompanied by short, muted sobs resounded inside his head. The type where the person tries to remain unseen in their pain. He recognized it now. He remembers his own cries from so long ago. After his father struck him, after being replaced... he sometimes wonders if his brother also cried like that as a child.
“Wait...”
He heard a small voice in his head. Could it be?
“Mama, please” the voice was so desperate and yet silent. His heart broke. He sounded weak, as if his strength had left the little body “Mama! Don’t leave me! Please!” What?.
Kokushiobou felt numb. Was the boy being... abandoned?. A sense of urgency hit him then, to hell with Kibutsuji, with demons. He started running. He could still hear the boy crying, so he ran in one direction, praying it was the right one, until he heard the voice become quieter and then changed directions. It was a slow process, but he could do nothing more. His heart beat faster and his mind was a loop of ‘PLEASE GOD DONT LET HIM STOP CRYING’
“What is wrong with me?” he heard the boy whisper between sobs, and he felt the urgency hit with renewed strength. ‘Nothing!’ he wanted to scream but it would be useless “Mama... why am i not enough?”
Kokushibou broke. He felt his face wet; was it raining?
He found himself cursing a woman he did not know. He could not understand. How could a parent abandon their child?!. A voice in his head whispered a truth he was not ready to accept. He did know the answer to that question. He knew better than most.
“Whatever!” he heard the boy “I’m not crying...” Dread spread through his body ‘no’ “I'm never crying again!” ‘NO’.
“Keep crying! Please!” he found himself pleading out loud. He prayed to any good out there to grant him this mercy. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but please, it was not for him but for the boy. His boy did not deserve that pain.
As if the gods had heard him, he finally found the right way.
The sobs were slowing.
He had to go faster! He was upper moon one; he should be able to do this! If he didn’t then what was everything for?!
Why did he betray his friends?
The cries were stopping
Why did he abandon his own family?
The sobs too grew apart with each passing second.
Why did he disown his own brother?!
“Im gonna live” the boy said with the last of his tears “I´ll show you! I'm gonna live!”
Why did he trade his humanity?!
“No more crying” And it stopped.
Why? If he couldn’t even reach his baby in time?
Kokushibou stopped. He couldn´t hear anything anymore. “Please, no...” but nothing. He had lost his chance. His baby had vowed never to cry with such conviction that he didn’t doubt him for a second. His poor, strong baby had been left alone to fend for himself, and instead of crumbling, he had risen. He was so proud of him, but he wished he would cry just a little more... just enough to let him find him. After that, he would only smile. That he would make sure of.
“Please, just a little more...” he pleaded, falling to his knees in the dirt road he had been running through, “please god, don’t take him from me...” but no one answered his cries. And cry he did. It was time he faced reality; it was never the rain. All six of his eyes had tears running down them. In his desperation and pain, he let out an animalistic scream into the night. If he had been in a better headspace, he would have reprimanded himself for it. Any slayer around would have heard that and recognized the demonic nature of it. But at that point, he didn’t care. He cried for yet another failure. For yet another child left behind.
He didn’t notice the spectral figure of a man with his same face watching him, giving him his space but accompanying him in his pain with a pain of his own. A figure that had never truly left his side.
Yoriichi knew he couldn’t help his brother, but he still refused to leave him alone. He had seen Michikatsu do all sorts of evils since his passing, but could never hate him. He was by his side, hoping against hope he would come back. Hoping he would realize what he had done and walk the path of the light again. He understood that his brother would go to hell for all he had done, but he still wished for him to atone. To stop before he could never be reborn. Before they could be brothers again in their next life, this time for real.
He had always known his hopes were nothing more than that... until that moment.
He had noticed his brother changing for years now. For some reason, he never understood. But he didn't need to; he was just happy he could see Michikatsu shine through Kokushibou more and more each day. The way his brother smiled and the way his eyes would soften at random times during the years. The way he had started avoiding killing humans. The way he would frown in anger when Kibutsuji called for him and spend more time out of the demon king’s lair and sight.
He was getting his brother back, but he didn’t know if he was happy for it, looking at his brother then. Whatever, or better said ... whoever... made him change had been painfully taken from him and he could only watch.
‘You are not alone’ he wanted to whisper, but he knew Michikatsu wouldn’t hear him anyway. Slowly, he knelt beside his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. It was a surprise when his brother flinched at the contact, stopping his laments for a second to look around wildly. “Yoriichi...?” he said, and although his eyes looked right through him, he seemed to feel him. Feeling braver, Yoriichi answered, “I’m here”.
Kokushibou asked, not knowing why. He had felt Yoriichi's warmth, but that could not be; his brother was dead and gone. Even so, the answer was clear ‘I’m here’. His brother was there with him. Even after all he had done, he could feel his presence as a balm to the pain he could still feel. Regrets fought inside his mind, wanting to be acknowledged; he could feel them. But only one thought was constant, “He is gone,” he whispered, and felt his younger brother’s presence wrap him in an embrace he hadn’t realized he was missing until then. In that moment, with his brother by his side, he felt like himself again. After so long, he felt like Michikatsu Tsugikuni once more.
He had so much to atone for... he didn’t know if he could do so.
“I’m here,” he heard again and cried, he cried for everything he had done. For every person he disappointed, for every human he slaughtered, for each friend he stabbed in the back, and for his family... the ones he wronged the most.
He remembered his sons, or tried to. He couldn't recall his oldest's face or name, nor anything from his youngest, only that he had existed. What kind of father was he? He was no better than that woman. He wondered if his sons had felt like the boy when he left, and it hurt worse than anything he had ever felt.
And there was nothing he could do.
A call from his master resonated within his being; he was being summoned.
He was tired; Muzan could wait a couple of days.