Fang-suo

“Tell me, have you seen her?”

The words whispered along the waves, carried in the breeze, fastened by the skies. They spun round n’ round till it felt like they had no simple meaning but to exist; those soft spoken words that he might’ve confused for illusion.

Water met his feet, cool white ocean foam pooling at the dips and falling at the rises of the sandbanks. Evening sun over head–still there, not quickening with passing seconds he had left to give.

Caw!

A gull called overhead, calling out those exact words in matra, in mock prayer. He smelt the lasting grip of death falling away with the wind, away from his body, and he stood born anew. 

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He was alone, so terrifyingly alone; the ocean seemed mute to his calls, for someone, anyone.

It was dreadful, very much so, it twisted his ribs till they felt like shattering, leaving him with a strange alien emptiness that only curdled in his stomach like old flowers.

“Do you see it?”

A voice called out, breathlessly, flowing between the winds. He followed it.

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He found a door, partly sunken into the trunk of an overhanging tree. Wooden and stained with time, tucked away behind the drooping branches, away from his eyes. He found himself holding onto the knob like a lifeline.

“Open it, open the door.”

It opened with a loud creak–quite expected from an olden door.

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“Hello, Joestar.”

It wasn’t what he expected at all.

He froze, stunned in what laid before him in all glory. A woman, standing amongst the large field, turned the other way so her face was hidden. Carrying herself with such an astound sense of grace that made doves envious.

“I must ask something from you… a favor you would say, friend to friend.”

She said it with such certainty that it ought to be true; had he owed her something? 

“Just a small favor, it won’t be much–maybe.”

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“I want you to save her, don’t let her forget; her name is (Name) (l/n), You might know her.”

He thought for a second. Nothing.

“I know what you might be thinking, ‘What’s this woman’s connection with this girl?”

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“She is—You’ll find out sooner or later….”

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“She’s going to forget soon, don’t let her keep waiting…”

The woman turned to face him with a gentle smile. Her smile meant; Was he really meant to save (Name)? Save you? Maybe, maybe it was fate that led him to this very moment, for a greater purpose that is saving you. His world had a way of drawing people together, maybe this was the same.

“The others are waiting….”

She gestured to another door, behind her.

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You knew that you were going to be a Demonslayer one day, just like Father. He wanted all of his children to follow in his steps, even if he had to force them into this choice.

He knew you were a timid kid, born with a weak body, always so quiet when you were younger; in all honesty, it was embarrassing for him to be seen with such a weak child. 

His training methods only really achieved two things: You becoming a Demonslayer, and your shyness reaching new highs.

Fellow slayers found you incompetent, always saying things behind your back: “Look at her! What a disgrace to the (Y/n) Clan’s name!” Or, “Why is she even here? She barely passed the test!”

You were nothing to them, you couldn’t achieve anything in life, you couldn’t do anything great or bold, you were, and always invisible, a disgrace, a filthy mistake that shouldn’t’ve been born at all.

Then you ran into him, him as in referring to what could possibly be Kibitsuji of all demons to come across. Somehow, in some way, you managed to get to safety, no one believed you, none of them did. It seemed too preposterous, for a low ranking slayer to come across the King of Demons, it seemed too much like a lie than a truth. 

Father somehow managed to convince Oyakata-sama that you were lying, just trying for attention.

You weren’t exiled, but whatever you had of reputation was greatly damaged, your pay was cut way too low for comfort; barely enough to buy a proper meal.

So, wanting to do something, you made one of the most riskiest decisions of your life. Between missions, you tried to follow the man. Maybe he didn’t see you? You could use that to your advantage then, right?

…

Muzan, in words, was amused. For the last few weeks he was followed, followed by a Demonslayer that looked quite frail; yet, despite looking the part, the Demonslayer continued to follow him despite it. He simply didn’t mind it, what could you possibly do against him? And no one would believe you anyway.

A few more days have passed, you still were there, following him. When you finally got the guts to follow him into the busy streets, he decided to go in for the scare. So when you tried to reach for his shoulder, he spun around–and he swore he saw your soul fly right out of your body–and acted like the two of you were long-time-no-see friends. 

Rei cocked her head in confusion. “Dear? Do you know this young lady?” She asked. You looked quite young to her, maybe fourteen or so. 

“In fact, I do.” Muzan smiled, a sweet placid smile that looked wrong on his face. “She’s the daughter of an old friend of mine.”

You made no attempt to speak, or move, just a shiver of fear that could easily be confused with the cold. Rei looked on with concern.

“Are you okay, Sweetie? You’re shaking rather badly, are you cold?” You said nothing. Only staring at Rei when she offered up the haori she wore that day.

“I’m—I’m good, thank you.” You let out a slight stutter. Cursing yourself for the decisions you made that led you here. This was a bad idea. Such a bad fucking idea, (Name), you idiot! You’re going to get yourself killed. Why is he acting so buddy-buddy with me??? Help. With all that mental mess jumbled up in your head, you couldn’t hear what the pair was discussing about.

Then you felt it. The cold hand that grasped your wrist, dragging you along to a small shop. 

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He bought you fucking ramen. What the actual fuck is going on. You mentally sobbed. The ramen, however, was really good, despite it probably being your final meal. 

“You’re….. Amusing. Go on, go live.” He said nothing more, only staring at you with that unnerving look. 

Huh. He thought you were… amusing? 

“Thank you for the meal!” you ate and left as soon as you could. You’re more surprised he let you go in the end.

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You followed him the very next night. This time, he waited for the two of you to be alone.

It was a pure shock for him to spin around and pin you against one of the walls–you shook with great fear. I’m so screwed! WHY THE HELL DID I DO THIS AGAIN! You started to sob. 

He demanded answers; and you gave them

“Well—Well—um, that was the first real meal I’ve had in a hot while….. Am I–Am I still amusing enough for o-one more meal?” Muzan stared at you with a bewildered look for a brief moment, then beckoned you to follow him.

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The relationship between the two of you was, well, strange, to say the least. 

At first, Muzan didn’t ask questions–or really demand answers–he just fed you every night. It was a kind gesture, but it still didn’t shake off the fear of him and what he could possibly do.

The two of you started talking, it was awkward of course. First it was his ‘work troubles,’ ranting about how people are incompetent and what not. You listened.

Few times you spoke about Father, his attitude, the (L/n) Clan, the perfection they demanded. You never shared the Corp’s secrets, even if they didn’t like you one bit. He listened, and he remembered– all the moments where your voice strained to talk about troubles, or when you beamed on a random interest of yours.

The conversations were rather generic, but they still happened.

“How’s the weather?”

“It’s…. quite nice, actually.” 

Muzan became the first person who remembered the little things about you, he made you feel appreciated, seen. For him, he didn’t quite notice it, how he learnt to appreciate your company.

He was planning to destroy the Demonslayer Corps, rid of the one thing that has always been a hindrance to him–but you, oh, you. You would live, stay by his side, be free of what hurt you the most.

He made the order: “If ANY of you lay a finger on (Name) (L/n), or even try to protect yourselves from her, I will see to it myself that you are DEAD.”

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It was the call of Mount Natagumo; It was a slaughter fest.

Lower rank 5 – Rui, as you learned later on–didn’t attack you, due to Muzan’s direct orders. But, being the absolute dumbass you were, got yourself tangled in the web on your own.

“Guys?” Nothing. “Guys!” Nothing yet again. “GUYS! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!” They all left, and for the first time since you met Muzan, you felt invisible, alone. For some, you were a filthy liar that didn’t deserve even the lowest rank in the Corp, and not worth remembering.

He was killed–you were left to hang in the webs, stuck till when the sun had set again. 

“How long are you going to dangle there like a puppet?” You were staring into Muzan’s eyes, they were stunning. 

“Hm?” He got you down from the webs, holding you in his arms as you wept into his suit jacket.

“They left me!” The tears were reasonable, and so very needed.

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He made a proposition: Stay with him, stay with him with your humanity intact. Just stay with him, be someone he can talk to.

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It didn’t take much to agree.

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Muzan never thought that he’d ever enjoy the company of a Demonslayer. He never dreamed of the day he promised to protect them with everything he had.

This was reality now. 

He had two goals: Find the Blue Spider lilly, and keep you safe.