#eclipse writez

✦ ── Everyone gets infatuated when there's a new girl, but not Muichiro; he could care less about his peers, so why would you be any different? ✦ ── Everyone gets infatuated when there's a new girl, but not Muichiro; he could care less about his peers, so why would you be any different?

✦ ── You're sat next to him by the teacher, and with an unwavering optimism and interest in knowing everyone around you, he can't help but talk to you a bit

✦ ── It was your interest in his paper plane making that got him hooked; even if he stated with certainty you'd never make a better plane than him, you still wanted to try every recess

✦ ── When others would join you'd team with him, he folds while you picked the pattern and decorated it

✦ ── Muichiro picks up on your optimism, but only to reflect it back at you whenever you're feeling down or worse than usual

✦ ── Of course he knows he has some sort of interest in you that surpasses anyone else, but he isn't going to think too hard about it so long as you're close friends

✦ ── He knows you'll be sitting next to him everyday, trading parts of your lunches for things the other likes, doing homework in the library after school

"Mui, trade?" You pointed at his portion of rice, the same sheepish smile on your face as was always there when you didn't want something in your school meal.

He nodded, handing you the bowl, and pointed back at the main course on your tray.

"Yeah, I don't like radishes; take them."

✦ ── You and his twin seem to have a fake rivalry going on, usually fighting for Mui's attention until you give up and share it instead

✦ ── Does not have the heart to tell his brother that he sees him much more than you since they, you know, live together, and likes having time with just you

✦ ── One of your habits together is fixing each other's uniforms right before school, since they're so strict about it

✦ ── Outside of school you guys frequent Kotetsu's parents' pizzeria to hang out with him and have dinner together (usually with Kotetsu, both twins, and yourself) and talk about all your classes

The same wood-fired pizza you always had was in the middle of the table, freshly steaming and dividing the four at the table. Most of you wouldn't touch it until it cooled down more.

Mui was the first to grab a slice, aiming for the biggest and sliding it on your plate for you, then taking the second largest slice as his own.

"No fair, you can't burn yourself just to get whatever you want!" Poor Kotetsu.

✦ ── Muichiro is sweet and easily excited compared to his brother, but you're the most energetic out of anyone, which often surprises him and strangers

✦ ── Regardless, you make school a lot more fun with your excitement and positivity, so your loudness doesn't scare him

One mission was all it took for his life to flip on its head

Several people were found hanging, blood drained from their bodies till their skin flaked off, all in one small, tight-knit town

The only shame was that he wasn't exactly a fan of the whole 'spy' part of missions; laying low just wasn't his thing

Fortunately you weren't exactly secretive, running through the midnight streets and checking over your shoulder as if you could feel his eyes trained on you from his perch

You were evasive, with your small frame and nimble movements, but he was a hashira, for Christ's sake!

"Would you stop running already?!" His voice shouted after you; watching as you slipped down alleyways, he would run into the walls of, likely starting people awake every time. Your voice, distant but taunting, only made his seething worse: "When you stop chasing me, sure!"

You spat back in a voice so uncannily human it frustrated him

He hadn't realized it, but your scent wasn't the only trace of demon around, and you'd been leading him to an increasingly larger threat

Whereas you couldn't have eaten a single person based on your scent alone, this one had to have feasted on several dozen

With his weapon already drawn from his chase with you, the fight was quick

The moment he rounded the corner, he saw you jumping towards its head, blinding it with your claws digging through its eyes despite its own claws attempting to tear through your arms

He used that opportunity to attack it, slicing through its neck in two motions from either blade at the same time

Only when it had fully disintegrated did he get to take a good look at you

Clearly a fresh demon, you looked no older than fourteen, and you had no scent of death on you

If it weren't for your demonic features—claws, teeth, and eyes—you'd look like a normal young girl

"So, what's your deal?" He questioned with earnestness as he put his weapons back on his back, no longer sensing a threat. "Vegan demon, I guess." You shrugged, and he let out a cackle at the thought. "Okay then, do you think you can prove that to a tough crowd?"

With the other demon girl that had joined the slayers, he figured there was no shame in bringing in another

He made his case to his master, that you'd helped lead him to and kill the demon causing the deaths, that you hadn't killed a soul to date, and that you were just some unfortunate kid who deserved a chance to prove everyone otherwise

And Uzui took full responsibility for you from that point on

You'd gone on missions with him plenty; you had regenerative abilities, which meant he didn't have to worry about you dying, and he could easily carry you on his back between missions so you could sleep off the injuries

And you may not be the baby his wives wanted, but you're certainly a kid; they're all over you once you're proven not to be a threat

Oh yeah, you're spoiled by your moms every day! Uzui had to drag you away from them just to get you on missions again because, lord knows, you're soaking up that attention

You and Muichiro are pretty similar when it comes to your language; you're always ragebaiting every demon you encounter, and some hashira too

Uzui would say it's funny if you didn't also direct your sharp tongue at him

Hey, he isn't above threatening a child, not even his own

You were far from a doctor, but Tamayo taught you all the ways around searching for a vein, soothing someone afraid of needles, and when to stop drawing

Because of you, they were able to grow stronger without so much as touching a human and stave off the hunger that was forced onto them by the demon king

In return, you had a home, company, and a purpose

Unfortunately, being human meant you weren't safe from ailments

Bedridden, shaking, palms sweating so viciously you had to clutch towels to soak it up, you were a sore sight

Your entire body trembled under the sheets, eyes closed and face flushed with heat. One of your hands met your cheek, the skin hot to the touch despite feeling as though you were freezing. At the end of the bed, handing Lady Tamayo a cup of medicinal water he'd just prepared, purple eyes judged. "You look awful."

Yushiro's words, of course

As much as he insulted you, he was still covering for your work when he could while you were sick and cooking meals for you despite how nauseous the smell made him

Tamayo, however, never left your side

Between rotating towels filled with cold buckets of water she'd refill, she would wash each cloth and read her medical textbooks out loud to you, even if you were half concious

First she started with how fevers worked, to ease your conscience considering all the extreme symptoms

Every morning she started by preparing you a fresh set of clothes, something loose and comfortable, while she would replace the sheets

Whenever Yushiro finished cooking the human food, she'd help you sit up and ensure it wasn't too hot

If you were shaking too much, she'd feed you, no hesitation, no shame, no question

Something less medical and more soothing that she does is allow you to pick from a collection of her scented oils: lavender, vanilla, chamomile, pine...

The touch of her hands was gentle, her middle finger rubbing small circles into your inner wrists after dropping some of the sweetly scented oil onto each one. She added a few more drops to her fingers, holding your hair back to lightly dab somewhere your ears met your jaw. "Let me know if the scent is too strong, okay?"

Aromatherapy relieves stress, and it helps when staying inside to enjoy the scent of something 'fresh'

You were just as important and as deserving of care as all her previous patients, and as a member of their home, you were someone she wished the best health for

Besides, caring for someone much like she did her kids when she was human brings her a kind of peace

A large town outside Tokyo, one of its many neighbours, was the perfect place for a new slayer to gather their bearings for a low-level mission.

Even at night the pathways were well lit, with food vendor stalls sizzling and chatter emanating from each one. The sun had set an hour or so ago, and you were ordered to remain the area's guard for the week until they found a replacement for the last one. She’d gone missing alongside her crow.

You found yourself comfortable at your usual spot, holding two skewers of beef kushiyaki in one hand and finishing scribbling a note with the other, which you handed to your crow just before it took off. You’d been asked to provide daily reports on the status of the town and note anything suspicious. So far the only thing you’d discovered was the higher rate of unsolved disappearances here, but it was hard to know how accurate the number was based off reports alone.

The summer was just simmering down into an early fall; the green shift in trees was starting to turn into their more colourful hues of yellow, orange, and red. The sun set earlier and rose later, which meant more time earned by demons to make moves. Thankfully lone demons didn’t tend to pop up in crowded areas for risk of being caught.

“Waiting on me?” A voice came from behind, legs swinging over the bench so the man could sit down on the empty spot next to you.

“Maybe.” Your smile was evident in your voice even if you avoided looking at him, moving one skewer to your other hand and offering it to him. He hesitated before taking the skewer between his thumb and pointer finger.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Douma was always much louder than you, and in some ways you envied how friendly he was. Despite being in town for nearly two weeks, you’d only managed to get to know Douma, who’d sat himself next to you just to ask about your uniform. You informed him that you were something of a guard, part of a larger group that helped people defend themselves from threats they may not be prepared for.

“Well, I never see you eat anything.” He was always there when you had dinner, much like a few evenings past when he joined you at an udon stand and refused to try even a sip besides a nibble of the pork. Even then, he said the taste of green onion on it was too strong and that he never ate anything but meat.

You’d eaten through half of yours by the time he got down the first piece, and soon his skewer was waving infront of your face.

“Eat it for me?”

“Really, you won’t even eat a single slice of onion?”

“I don’t like the taste…”

You scoffed, moving forward and pulling it off with your teeth. Grilled onion went so well with beef, you were surprised he couldn’t enjoy it! You finished before him, and everytime he finished eating the meat, he’d offer the vegetable stuck between the pieces. As much as you wanted to force him to eat it, you were glad to see him enjoying some kind of food. Douma had insisted he ate before you met up, no matter how many times you told him to skip dinner at home and enjoy a meal with you.

“People need more than just meat to live, you know. That can’t be healthy.” Though you tried to look him in the eye, his messy ashen hair always blocked your view, especially with him being taller and always staring up at the sky. As much as you tried to recall, you weren’t even sure what colour his eyes were; they seemed different every time you looked.

“What can I say? I’m a carnivore! How else would I get so strong?” Lifting an arm to jokingly flex, you did the same, rolling your sleeve up and shoving his arm down to prove a point.

“Oh yeah? What's all this, then? Fake?” You’d been training a lot recently, and the muscles in your arms were certainly some of your most impressive. Regardless, he was still far leaner than you, and he laughed at your attempt of showing him up.

“Sure, if I ever want to get smaller, I’ll try your method. The meat you eat doesn’t even compare to the stuff I eat when you aren’t around.” Always a tease, you thought. Every time he told you about his life, you wondered what kind of person he was. You figured he was sneaking out to see you, considering his clothes were a fine material and brightly coloured, often a sign of wealth. There were also the hints about his diet, which you assumed came from having access to high-quality ingredients. The one time you got him to try a daifuku, he’d nearly thrown up and permanently placed your names in the bad books of the vendor who’d sold them to you.

Silence fell between you two after you’d thrown the skewers away, staring out at the treeline just beyond the town. Soon you’d start your rounds, another long night of nothing but paranoia and being alone with your thoughts, knowing if a demon arrived, you’d be the only one that could kill it without relying on the sunrise.

There were some nights you wondered what you’d do if a demon more powerful than you showed up.

“Worried about something? You know I give pretty good advice—or so I’m told!” His voice startled you, your bouncing leg jumping when the quiet was broken. You nearly forgot you had company; he was so still that not a peep came from him even though he was right next to you.

“It’s stupid, really. Just, the people in this town feel safe, and I wonder if they’d still feel safe knowing what was out there, and then knowing I was the only thing between them and that danger.” You’d taken your nichirin blade, sheath and all, into your hands, looking at the carefully braided handle and the painted sheath. So many people put faith in you to get you to this point: your mentor, who gave you your breathing style; the swordsmith that forged your blade for you; and those who’d sheltered you on your journey here. Unknowingly, there were also those in their houses now, heading to sleep and leaving their safety in the hands of your capabilities and weaknesses.

“Don’t worry, no one will go missing tonight.” Douma placed a cold hand on the small of your back. “Whatever is causing those disappearances, it’ll see you working so hard and know not to trouble you!”

A scoff fell past your lips as you shook your head and stood up to get away from his touch. A blush had blossomed on your cheeks, both from the high praise and the proximity of your new friend. You didn’t want him to know his words had any effect on you. You repositioned the sheath of your sword under your belt, turning back to see him with his legs crossed on the bench, head propped up by his fist. You could have sworn his eyes had a glow to them, but you chalked it up to a trick of the light. It only took a moment's glance for you to look away, avoiding his strong gaze. As much as you wanted to take in the colours of his eyes, you knew he’d probably tease you for staring so long.

“I wish it worked like that. If it did, I wouldn’t need to carry this blade with me everywhere I go.”

A groan turned into a chuckle from the man; you couldn’t see it, having turned away once more, but his eyes rested on the back of your head, contemplative.

“I’m going to start my usual rounds of the perimeter. Goodnight, Douma.” Something in your voice still had that choked tone from before, something he caught in a second, but that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. There was a quiver when you doubted your abilities, like you would have cried had that reaction not been ripped out of you from years of training and your few demonic encounters forcing you to wise up—to build walls.

Douma didn’t respond, instead watching you leave. It was uncharacteristic of his unwavering optimism that you’d gotten so used to.

Perhaps, like you worried you would, your anxieties had driven him away.

You weren't that unwaveringly strong guardian he might have taken you to be.

Before you, the town’s lights shone, guarded by only two layers of wooden fence around all corners, mostly made to keep out wild animals. A few more houses were outside of that border, but the majority of them belonged to farmers and resource gatherers. The main parameter you walked was a dirt road, formed by many decades of people walking the same route. The lights faded with the houses until the treeline, where everything dropped into a pitch black even under the gaze of the full moon on a clear night.

“If you’re scared to face something alone, you could have just said so!” An arm draped over your shoulder, the sudden unannounced presence of your companion once again startling you. How was he so silent? You hadn’t even heard a breath, let alone a movement. Looking at the ground, you watched his steps fall into the rhythm of your own.

You struggled to form words at first, too stunned by his sweet display.

Whether you liked it or not, he wasn’t afraid to break into your personal space, and it’d gotten easy to assume it was personal. Despite not knowing Douma for long, you’d come to thoroughly enjoy his visits and how amazing of a listener he’d been. Every day you learned something new and bizarre about him, too. To top it all off, he’d been nothing but kind to you, especially now, pulling you against his side with his arm and following you on your patrol. He had to have been one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, and he was wasting his time spending his waking hours with someone who had sworn their life to a cause that would probably kill them.

All things considered, he’d make a good demon slayer.

“You really don’t have to join me, Douma. You should be asleep like everyone else.” He loosened his grip so you could have some space again, at the silent request of your pulling away, “I’m sure there’s someone at home worried sick about you.”

Douma paused, this time a whole laugh escaping his lips. His canines showed, sharp and glistening, but hidden from your gaze, which focused on the path forwards.

“Quite the opposite.” Douma’s tone always seemed the same, but this time something behind that cheerful persona seemed to slip into something more melancholic. You didn’t gather that he was particularly sad or bothered, just not as enthusiastic as before.

It felt different doing your rounds with Douma than all the previous nights. Normally you’d feel a constant state of dread and worry, placed in a position of protection without having anything to fight for. Now, with him at your side, it felt like you could take on just about any demon that tried to make a move. You were supposed to keep the public from knowing about these creatures, but so long as you saved Douma, then it didn’t really matter whether he knew or not. Something about him made you think that he would be more fascinated by their species than terrified. In fact, you could hardly imagine him scared of the things at all.

Whenever there was space in your conversation, your companion took to humming, mostly staring up at the sky while you kept a watchful eye on your surroundings. Every once in a while he would put a finger under your chin and tilt your head up so he could show you a constellation he’d found, tracing the stars with a pointer finger until you’d see it just as he did. A part of you wished you could keep your gaze on the comfort of the sky rather than the mystery of the world you walked.

“Why is it you took on a job like this?” Douma had seen how you seemed to have the muscle memory to do nothing but watch and wait, no matter how many times he tried to get you to stop and relax. Weren’t humans your age supposed to be getting married or take care of a family? At least, that was what he gathered from the people in his cult.

“Got pressured into an arranged marriage, realized there was more for me than domesticity, and got lucky.” It was just over a year since Shinobu had saved you from a demon the night before your wedding, midway through running into the night. It was freeing to run from your life, even if you planned to turn right back around after. What wasn’t freeing was being slammed to the ground by a bloodthirsty monster, and had she not been in the area…

“Now I owe someone my life, and the least I could do is protect others.”

“You’re certain this is what you should be doing, slaying creatures of the night?”

“I have no remorse for monsters with no feelings; they don’t deserve to live.”

“So you couldn’t be friends with a demon?”

You stopped in your tracks at the question, Douma pausing a couple steps ahead. Your fist was clenched, digging crescent moons into the palm of your hand while your other hand white-knuckled the hilt of your blade.

“Friends, with a demon? Something that’d eat me without a second thought? Are you—" Your breath caught in your throat, eyes trailing from his shoes up his figure to the back of his neck, covered by a swirling mess of hair. The person you’d shared meals with several times but who rarely ate, the person who you only ever saw at night, the person with such rare features that you weren’t sure they existed: his ashen hair, his pointed nails, his rainbow eyes.

“Did you just say demon?”

“Yes, you were talking about—”

“I didn’t say demon. Ever.” And you wouldn’t have. Why would you inform someone of something that’d leave them fearing for their life, if not laughing at you for spouting nonsense about tales?

You watched him tilt his head back towards the sky, and you could tell from his gaze he was looking at the same constellation he had just shown you. He twisted his upper body to glance back at you, rainbow eyes, which most certainly glowed in the night, holding your stare. He raised his hand to cover his eyes, and when it moved back down, kanji appeared in them.

‘Upper Two’ Your mind was blank beyond those words, and he did nothing but let you stare. When it seemed to click, his smile seemed more like a smirk.

Your blade was unsheathed in a moment, each hand holding the hilt and pointing the blade towards him.

How was an Upper Moon here without anyone noticing? Why was he revealing himself now? Questions raced, your grip strong on your blade, even as your knees shook. You’d heard of the twelve Kizuki before, but you’d been told it was near impossible to find them! Let alone the second strongest, why you?

Douma had fully turned, reaching towards you with a pitiful expression. Only now did you feel the pressure of his presence. Had you completely missed it before, or had he gotten so good at concealing it that you never noticed? You’d only killed three demons in your life, each either recently turned or who’d eaten little to no humans. How many had he eaten? How long had he been alive?

“Don’t! I don’t want to hurt you!” You raised your blade closer to him in an attempt to get him to back off.

“Oh, you don’t? Does that make you friends with a demon?” Your threats didn’t scare him; no, he could tell you were in over your head in this fight. His hand grabbed the middle of your blade, tensing in a grip so strong you couldn’t pull it away.

“Bad little lotus, Demon Slayers shouldn’t be afraid to hurt demons.”

SNAP.

Just like that, your sword shattered where he held it, eyes wide in horror. Pulling the remaining half of the blade away, you watched metal pieces crumble to the floor along with the top half of the blade. With no effort, he rendered your weapon entirely null. His hand remained in the air, and you watched the cut he’d made digging his own flesh into the blade heal completely in under a second, leaving not so much of a trace of the damage.

“H-how, how is that possible?!” You took a step back, making space between him and yourself, one hand letting go of the hilt while the other dropped loosely to your side, shaky grip still holding what was left of your weapon.

“Don’t worry, I’m saving you the trouble of having a fight with me! If you turn around now, I’ll let you go.” Douma smiled sweetly, as if what he was offering was an option for you to begin with. “Your blade is broken; there’s no better excuse for running from a fight than that!”

There was a one-way tension between the two of you. He seemed so relaxed, looking at you the same way he had when comforting you, offering you the bits of food he didn’t like, and telling you about the constellations. In his eyes, it seemed nothing had changed in your dynamic; he’d always known from your uniform who you were, and at no point was he worried about you realizing he was a demon. He had no qualms about being seen warming up to a slayer, but you certainly couldn’t be seen like this with any demon, let alone an Upper Rank.

And to return to the slayers, failing to protect the people here and running with your tail between your legs?

Frankly, you’d rather die than live with that humiliation.

You fixed your posture, sliding your leg back and planting both feet firmly on the ground. Again you moved your blade between the two of you, supporting it with both hands. Your eyes closed with a deep inhale, opening in a hard stare at the demon before you. Let it be known that even if you were doomed from the start, you never backed down.

“Aw, what hopeless resolve! Humans can be such tragic creatures.” He unfolded a golden fan, covering his mouth as he spoke to hide the smile behind it. He wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings and let you think he wasn’t taking you seriously, after all. If this were a fight with real stakes, then he would want his companion to feel honourable. As much as his hollow heart never beat, you certainly made something in him race—something about the forbidden relationship you’d started to build without knowing it. Perhaps it was adrenaline—no, what you gave him was stronger, pure noradrenaline.

It would be a shame to get rid of something so special over such a silly rivalry.

One swish of his fan, and a rush of ice and wind forced you to jump back, exactly as Douma hoped. In an instant, chains of ice coiled around your torso and arms, restricting your movement and breathing so quickly you dropped your sword at your feet. Upper Two was upon you in a moment, hand covering your mouth and nose so you wouldn’t breathe in the dangerously sharp molecules made up of his blood and ice. His hand was freezing cold, colder than you remember, and it muffled any attempts at calling for help that you made.

You were dangling in the air, chains taut above your head where they were securely tied into the branches of the tree above you. You were held a meter in the air, high enough that Douma now looked up at you instead. His other hand, which held the now folded fan, raised a finger to his lips, shushing you before removing the hand preventing speech.

Only your legs and head were free of the restriction, attempting to kick your way out of their grip.

“They won’t melt until morning, poor thing. How about you just get some rest?”

Your head hung low, eyes shaky as he looked up into them. You were safer this way; you’d never have survived a fight against him. But rather than listen, you went ahead and acted all stubborn. Oh well, good thing he had plenty of ways to keep you from trying to do anything stupid. Even with his warnings, you continued to try to move, seeing if you could get any of the branches to break with your movements. Douma hummed in discontent, moving the folded fan below your chin to lift your head and force your gaze back to him.

“Why do you fight it? It's hopeless…” His voice trailed. He could have said more, but he didn’t exactly want to insult you either. He could have said you stood no chance, or that you were too weak to get out, something to really crush your spirit. But he liked that spirit; it was a passion he couldn’t feel, so he wanted to live it vicariously through you.

But you couldn’t stop, your eyes moving in the direction of the sleepy town. Even if you stood no chance, you were still buying people time. You’d heard demons could kill several people at night, so surely an upper rank could kill dozens in that time.

“I can’t live knowing it was you who killed those people and that I did nothing to stop it.” Your voice had broken, both from the emotional haul of betrayal from someone you thought you had made a friend of and from your lungs being squeezed in the grip of your constraints. You’d spoken to him about the missing people for several nights, about how you wouldn’t sleep most days just to investigate. And that whole time, despite his words of encouragement or support, he knew you would never figure it out without getting yourself killed. Did he get some kind of enjoyment from seeing you act so stupid? For believing every sweet lie he told you?

When tears began to spill down your face, both his hands cupped your cheeks, stealing their warmth and catching any tears.

“I already told you I won’t cause any disappearances tonight, remember?” His head cocked to the side, the same smile in his eyes, “Just because you’ve worked oh-so hard!”

You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or genuine, watching as the tears rolling down your cheeks got caught in the space between your skin and his.

His hands finally parted, and you opened your mouth to protest once more, but you weren’t fast enough. The base of his fan met with your vagus nerve, shocking your system. He watched as you tensed before falling limp in the grip of his chains.

“Rest well, sweet slayer.” Douma pressed his bitter lips to your hairline in a parting kiss, and as quickly as he’d appeared beside you that very evening, he was gone.

The first time the two of you met was just after the fight against the spider demon

He'd been bored, waking up before his friends, and his body ached in ways he never admitted

Naturally that meant he had to distract himself by pushing into others' business, including your own

In the rehabilitation room he picked up on two voices, one he recognized from the final selection and another he didn't recall

You two were training together, and once Inosuke heard you giving pointers to the other, he barged in demanding to be taught too

Of course, Genya ran off the moment Inosuke started making a fuss and left him with you, whom he immediately challenged to a fight

One whack to his neck with the hilt of your nichirin sword, and he was grumbling on the floor

Before you could walk away, too, he had grabbed your ankle and demanded you teach him

"Leave me alone."

You flicked your foot up, smacking his mask under the chin with the bottom of your foot to disorient him while you made your escape

After that he was completely hooked on bothering the shit out of you

Usually by asking questions: Why are you so strong? Are you also a god of some kind? Why won't you train him?

Whenever your mentor, Sanemi, is on a mission you can't follow him on, you'd be at the Butterfly Mansion to assist Shinobu and discreetly train his younger brother whatever he'd taught you

And Inosuke would be there regardless, doing rehabilitation and waiting on his friends to get better

He likes that you say so little, because it means whenever he can get you to speak, 'he wins,' whatever that means

Inosuke is too careless to realize you always choose to sit next to him during meals or that you leave the rehabilitation room door open so he can watch you train Genya and learn himself

And every meal he tries to take something from your plate, which always ends up with him earning a new bruise or having to eat in the hallway as punishment

If you think your stoic personality will scare him, he will never, ever get sick of it

Expect him to try tricks he learned from you in a surprise attack, because if he wins, then it boosts his ego, and if he loses, you're teaching him how to prepare for someones counter attack

All he sees is that he learned more

And one day he'll be at your level, so maybe you'll teach him one-on-one, too

Muichiro was thankful demons could only cause problems at night.

Because on a day like this, with blue skies and white clouds drifting in the warm summer breeze, he wanted nothing more than to be at home with you.

You started your day when he would be nearly done his own, likely tending wounds or ending his less eventful nights with training. In that time, you’d go to a nearby market to help collect ingredients for the Love Estate, where you prepared most of the food and ingredients used by the Butterfly Mansion and other hashira. Like clockwork, Muishiro would join you right as your baskets began to feel too heavy, helping carry them while you finished your work.

At that point, the sun would just be rising, pouring golden hues across the forests, fields, and mountains you walked between. The air would still hold the night's cool breeze to it, which meant Muichiro would stay close by your side to bask in your warmth. You’d ask him how his mission went, and he would ask you if anything interesting happened during your evening. Some nights you told him about a hashira visiting looking for him to train, and other nights he’d tell you about the demon blood art his opponents had.

Once you were dropped off at Mitsuri’s home to begin cooking, he’d help cut any vegetables or fruit you needed while you did the more elegant parts of cooking. Most of your morning preparations involved making breakfast and portioning pre-prepared ingredients for delivery. Most of the hashira only had staple ingredients delivered for the days they didn’t eat on the road, so the majority of your work went into meals made for patients at the Butterfly Estate. Not once, despite his long night, would he stop helping you. He’d lay out all the cloths you had for wrapping trays of food, taking anything you’d made and portioning it as you directed. Muichiro let you tie them off, though, since your bows looked nicer.

With the kakushi arriving just on time to handle the deliveries, Muichiro would start making tea, usually a blend of several kinds he figured you’d like. Something sweet and aromatic, but not too strong in intensity.

You’d begin making breakfast; this morning it was strawberry soufflé pancakes. You’d mashed strawberries and squeezed the mixture through a cheesecloth to separate the seeds, which you’d clean and plant later, mixing the puree into your batter and pouring it onto a pan. Muichiro watched from his seat, captivated by the smell of your cooking and the steam from the teapot that sat on the table. You were an expert with flavour; it was like no matter what you worked with, you knew exactly what’d make it taste right. He found you weren’t just like that with cooking, though; you always seemed to know exactly what to do to bring him comfort.

As per usual, Mitsuri rushed in through the front, following the smell of your cooking and greeting you both with a cheerful smile.

“Do I have time to get changed?” She asked, hugging you from behind and peeking over your shoulder at the pancakes.

Muichiro couldn’t help but form a barely noticeable smile. Something about how loved you were, even by others, made him happy.

“Of course, Miss Kanroji.” Your voice was quieter in the morning, a contrast to the excitement in Mitsuri’s as she jumped up with an exclamation of glee and made her way to her room to change and clean up from her evening scouting. She only stopped to greet Muichiro with a quick hug and take in the scent of the tea he brewed before disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

You plated all three of your meals with an Earl Grey-infused maple syrup you’d made the day prior and some powdered sugar dusted on top. You gave Mitsuri her plate first, right as she sat across from your place, since she allowed you to cook in her estate every day. Then you placed yours and Muichiro’s at the same time. He was always surprised at how amazing your cooking skills were, and the first bite of the fluffy pancake already had him hooked on the flavour.

It was only when he went to pour the tea for you and Mitsuri that he realized he’d forgotten to remove the tea strainer and oversteeped the tea.

“Ah, I forgot.” He spoke in a low voice, clearly dismayed that he’d messed up his portion of the breakfast.

“It’s okay, Mui! It will only be a bit bitter.” Mitsuri comforted him, patting his shoulder.

“Actually, wait!” You stood, rushing to the cabinet and pulling a jar out of one of the cabinets full of baking ingredients. Back at the table, you added one more cup of boiling water to the pot to help dilute it and then used a spoon to carefully stir in some of the powder.

“Baking soda will help neutralize the bitter parts of the tea that were drawn out from being oversteeped.” You hummed in delight at your quick thinking, setting the jar aside while Mitsuri clapped in astonishment. With that, you poured everyone a cup of the steaming drink. Much as you described, once Muichiro took a sip, he couldn’t taste any bitterness, as if it’d never sat there too long to begin with.

He couldn’t help but wonder how you knew all these tricks. You may not be well versed in sword skills or breathing styles, but it seemed like in every other aspect of life you thrived in ways no one he had ever met knew.

Once everyone had finished breakfast, Muichiro being the first, he took to washing the dishes while you poured the remaining tea into a wooden cup and set it aside for Mitsuri to drink later. Although he found it strange, you and Mitsuri praised the flavour of cold tea; apparently it tasted that much better in the heat of the summer. You’d taken your apron off and looped it over him while he washed dishes, helping by scraping everything clean before handing it to him and putting each dish away once he’d dried them. With everything cleaned up and your work done just around the start of the afternoon, you both took your leave with a farewell to Mitsuri.

Muichiro was the type to stare at the clouds whenever he walked on his missions, but when it came to his walks with you, he was vigilant. He was sure to guide you on smooth terrain where you wouldn’t trip and to keep an eye out for anyone who may not mean well.

The Tokito Estate was close to Mitsuri’s, though in a far more secluded area up a hidden path in the woods. Trees were thin in the area, but they gave the estate a privacy he valued. His estate was one level, an open entry that led to a courtyard of sand, pebbles, and carefully combed cloud patterns. Rooms lined the outer edge of the home, each leading to the porch that encompassed the courtyard. The only exit was the archway you’d walked in through.

Tokito offered a hand to you to help you step up onto the porch, following you past the rooms until the central one, which was opposite the entry. It was the main room of the estate, with ink-painted shoji screen doors that you each slid one side open of to air out the room. Before you left for the market, you’d already pulled out your futon and sheets, preparing both beds for when the two of you slept in the early afternoon.

It was only when you kneeled down to sit on your ankles, reaching for the pins in your hair, that you noticed he seemed to be lingering by your side.

“Is everything okay, Mui?” Looking up, his teal eyes met yours, head tilted to the side and lost in thought. His lips parted to speak, though it took a moment for him to speak.

“It’s just strange how much you mean to me. No one else really matters when I compare you to them.” His honesty was always shocking, and he broke eye contact to move behind you, sitting down and helping remove the bow in your hair. You seemed frozen in place, feeling his hands carefully pull out pins that kept your hair neat and reaching around to set them in your cupped hands.

At a loss for words, you let him continue until your hair was fully down. He smoothed it with his palms, grabbing a comb from a shelf nearby and brushing through it.

Normally he’d stop there, and you were about to get up when he grabbed your shoulders, pulling you back down on your ass with a yelp.

“Mui! Careful!” You laughed, looking back at him with a smile.

“Just a bit longer?” Mui asked, expression serious, though calm. Your smile relaxed into a gentler one, nodding and turning back to facing forwards. This time his hands parted your hair in two down the middle, dividing each into sections so he could loosely braid them. He took two of the ties from your cupped hands again, finishing off each braid with the elastic to prevent them from undoing.

Gently, you felt the start of each braid and moved your hand down over the bumps, taking in his work.

“When did you…?” Your voice trailed off as you watched him stand up and place the comb back where he got it and take the pins from your hand to put them back in a cabinet.

“I asked Miss Kanroji to show me while you were making breakfast.” He had picked it up quickly while your back was turned, though he didn’t admit it was harder to pull off when he wanted it to be perfect for you. Normally you’d braid your own hair at night to protect it while you slept, but he didn’t like when there were things so simple he couldn’t do for you. Most of the night and day you spent without him, and Muichiro wanted to make sure you were well taken care of when he was there, to make up for all the things you had to do on your own.

He’d carry you everywhere if you’d let him; he’d do absolutely anything to show you that time spent with you was what made things easier to remember or easier to do at all.

It always felt like no matter what, you were always doing things for him: polishing his sword, cleaning his uniform, setting his bed, and cooking him meals he’d forgotten he was supposed to eat, and he never had enough time to make it up to you.

When he returned, he had a glass jar with oily water in it and a soft cloth. With the cork popped out, he held the cloth to the opening, getting it nice and wet. Holding your chin with one hand, he asked you to close your eyes, bringing the cloth to your eyelids and—as gently as he could—wiping the makeup from your eyes in slow circles. He did the same steps, using different parts of the cloth and fresh liquid to clean your face of makeup and any residue from your day's work. When he got to your lips, he started from the corners, carefully adjusting the cloth and swiping from left to right in deliberate strokes.

Your lipstick held the most pigment, so he was careful not to push it anywhere it’d spread or stain. Once your face was well cleaned, he took a smaller tin and unscrewed it, swiping his middle finger into the thicker transluscent balm and bringing it back to your lips. Muichiro first swiped some on your top and bottom lip, then went to massaging it in slow circles. Although he did it every night, you couldn’t help but feel a rosy tint take to your cheeks. When it was even, he leaned in, offering a quick kiss and stealing some of the balm for his own lips.

“All done.” He stated, letting go of your chin and helping you to your feet.

There was something of a routine in the madness of your lives. You helped him by removing his belt and sword, hanging the sword next to where he slept while he went to the bathing area to wash himself off. You changed into sleepwear while he was gone, the ones he brought in from the drying line before he went on his mission the night prior, and waited for him before closing the shoji screen to block out daylight.

Changed and comfortable, you’d rest side by side, silent and listening as the birds chirped outside.

“Rest well, Mui.” You’d kiss his forehead before retiring into bed, and he’d reach out, resting his hand on your forearm to make sure you were still there.

“Rest well.” His voice softer than usual, he’d whisper it when a few minutes had passed, making sure you were sound asleep.

Only when he was sure you’d fallen into a deep rest would he dare shut his eyes.

Much like the few others unfortunate enough to be on the train when it was first seized by the demon, you were turned into something of an actor

In fact, this train was chosen specifically because you were a passenger

A human he'd encountered plenty of times before, though you had no idea your encounters with the kind passenger whose ticket you'd stamped were anything as sinister as they had been

One evening, with the train on schedule and safely chugging along the tracks, you'd begun passing through the lines of sleepy passengers to check tickets

And the next thing you knew, you'd stamped his ticket with a familiar smile and wave, and everything went dark

It certainly took some convincing—and mild threatening—for Enmu to get you to calm down when you woke up on the floor of the locomotive cab

You'd never really seen his face since he usually wore a cap and had his hair in the way, but it was obvious from his appearance that he was no human

At first, you did as he instructed out of fear for your life

But out of all the people he commanded, he spent the most time with you, talking about anything

You thought it was because he wanted to be at the head of the train and watch you steer

Though it became clear with time he enjoyed his conversations with you

Partially because he is distracting you from the fact that he is absorbing everyone else on the train during your conversations, too

He'll protect you from any slayers, make sure everyone is unaware of your involvement, and help him choose routes that avoid actively guarded stations and other trains

Enmu will easily get attached, especially when you get talkative with him

His trust eventually leads him to revealing to you that the train was practically his body

He doesn't tell you that he put the most fragile portion of his body below where you conduct everyday

All you know is that if hell breaks loose, he's instructed you to cut the cables connecting the cab to the rest of the train and go full steam ahead

It would stand to reason that if you meet someone at your worst, at least everything else from there is uphill.

At least, that’s what he told you whenever you’d question his willingness to help you escape your past. Though escape was a loose term. On the night he found you, bloodied and suffering, you had several men chasing you through the snow-crested peak of his mountain. Your past couldn’t catch up to you if the gods demanded it; Douma had slaughtered and devoured every last person that presented a problem to you that very night.

Demon, they called him. What right did they have? How was their attempt to kill you any different from his attempt to kill them?

He carried you up to where the air thinned, to a place some called ‘paradise.’ There, some girls helped tend to your wounds and clean your clothes so they were fresh for when they finished helping you wash off the bloodied dirt.

And when you next spoke to him, you were more honest than any single person who’d ever spoken to him had been.

“I’m thankful, but I can’t stay here.” You still spoke in a hushed voice, but he heard every word. You told him most of the people here were broken, suffering, and worshipping him blindly, not truly. You just wouldn’t fit in, because while you were willing to thank him for what he’d done for you, you knew he was no deity.

Everything you said was correct, which made him laugh.

Douma had ushered you over to where he sat with the wave of his hand. When you were close enough, he leaned towards you, rainbow eyes staring into your melancholic ones.

“I’m a demon; doesn’t that worry you?” His canines were longer than most, his nails dangerously sharp, his eyes written with kanji.

“No, not really.” And that was the loudest he’d heard you speak since he’d found you.

Since then, Douma made a sort of promise to himself: that he’d keep you around so long as he had enough reason to. You were so honest that it amused him, and so accepting of his origin that it made him wonder if you were quite right in the head.

You didn’t mingle well with his followers regardless, too skeptical and too intelligent to fall into their numbing routine. So you had special permission from Douma himself to leave, so long as you were somewhere nearby. He found a small house ‘abandoned’ on the peak of a shorter mountain right next to the cult, a long distance for a human, but a breezy walk for him. He proved that he could be there in an instant when he brought you, practically flying between the trees and snow while carrying you; your feet never so much as brushed the cold ground.

He got a giggle from wiping off all the snow that stuck to you, though.

The events of a single day seemed to solidify your place in his world, and where your old life had been filled with the dull monotony of working to barely get by, it was now something of a domestic daydream. You’d spend the day setting traps and gardening, weather permitting, and your nights with Douma.

You’d just finished scooping the remnants of ash from the irori, breaking through to the charcoal, which you collected into a basket. Some fresh lumber and a portion of the charcoal replaced the old fire starter, which sat below the cast iron pot that hung from its pothook. There was a spoonful of rendered tallow at the bottom, still solid from the cold temperature. It only began to melt after you’d lit the flame below. The faint trail of smoke and steam rising from the chimney pipe on your roof was a signal for a certain someone that you’d begun cooking, which you always did just after sunset.

You hadn’t heard the entryway door slide open, busy pushing the tallow along the sides of the pot to coat it evenly. Inside, you added chopped green onion you'd uprooted the morning of, breathing in the seasoned steam that rose from the mix. Once the melted tallow began to pop and bubble, you carefully poured water till it was halfway up the pot, stirring it until bubbles of oil formed on the surface.

“Ahhh…what are we cooking?” The Upper Rank’s voice startled you, nearly dropping your wooden spoon on the floor with a gasp. Despite visiting nearly every night and how vigilant you tried to be, he was simply too quiet to spot. The shoji door slid along its freshly cleaned frame, which you’d spent all of yesterday cleaning, the only sign he actually gave you that he was present. You’d learned from experience that if he wanted to, it wouldn’t make a noise at all when he used it. That, or he would throw himself in through a window, your least favourite of his entrances.

“We? I wasn’t aware I had an assistant this evening.” You teased, watchful eyes following him as he removed his shoes and closed the screen behind him, crawling forwards until he was close enough to look into the pot.

He hummed, watching you dip the spoon in and bring it to his lips. He took a sip despite its boiling temperature and followed it by sticking out his tongue with a feigned disgust. Naturally, it was only water, oil, and green onion—but it’d taste bad regardless to a demon of his status.

“Thank goodness I’m here to help!” He teased, pulling out something wrapped in cloth. His nails tugged at the bow, pulling it apart so the fabric fell over his hand. Inside were four chunks of bone with the marrow still inside, each cut went clean through the bone. He moved his arm towards you, urging you to take it. It took both your hands to hold it all, lips parted and eyes widened. He’d delivered you venison meat not long ago, and it was apparent he’d done more than just discard the remainder of the corpse.

“My followers showed me how they can turn these into broth.” Once his hand was free, he brought it under his chin to prop his head up.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to cook with something like this in a long time…” Your voice trailed, dipping the tip of the cloth into water and wiping the bones clean, though it was clear from scratch marks that someone had already smoked and dry brushed them free of all the unwanted bits. Immediately, you dropped each chunk into the pot, adjusting the fire so there was more air and the flame could grow larger. When the water came to a roil, you stuck the spoon into a jar of miso paste, pulling out more than you likely needed, and stirring it into the pot until it was fully incorporated.

His eyes traced your movements, a mindless smile on his lips and a soft hum of a made-up melody as you worked. He pondered if he would have liked food like this as a human, and then if knowing that mattered to begin with.

On a chopping board you cut through one of the pieces of venison, making thin slices and setting them near the several small piles of soba noodles you'd pre-prepared. Once you had them nicely laid out, you placed a few slices on each pile, picking the noodles and meat up with chopsticks and holding them under the boiling broth. When the venison shifted from red to brown you quickly moved the food into your mouth, enjoying the flavour of the thin broth and deer. Opening your eyes, a small plate had appeared under where you were eating, preventing the droplets of broth from hitting your clothing. A clawed hand held the bowl there, his smile growing into a grin when you spotted his act.

“I’d find it romantic if you hadn’t just insulted my cooking.” You tilted your head towards him, narrowing your eyes in pretend scrutiny.

He played along, raising his free hand to cover his mouth with his folded fan, a gasp escaping his cold lips.

“Insult? Why, I thought lying would have been a sin.” Douma moved back when you went to slap his shoulder, barely missing as he laughed. No matter how much you tried to tease him, he always seemed to come up with a witty reply. You’d be frustrated if it weren’t so amusing.

Finishing with eating, you placed the cast iron lid onto the pot, dulling the fire so it would continue to simmer overnight. While you’d originally planned to make a large batch of soup this evening, the added bones would add a lot more flavour if they cooked longer. The Upper Rank demon had his usual fun, watching you clean up after dinner and set up your futon as you had made part of your schedule since moving here. Much like a cat, the moment you made your bed, he moved to sit at the base of it.

His interest was piqued when you pulled out a wooden basin, filling it with the rest of the water you’d left in your bucket next to the fire. It steamed in the cold air, though it was not hot enough to burn you when you dipped a cloth filled with unwashed rice into it, agitating the water so it clouded up with the residue from the rice, leaving it a watered-down milky white.

This was one of Douma’s favourite things to help with, and he already got up to fetch a comb and small jar of oil from a cabinet for you. Both of you moved to the porch area, where you wouldn’t have to worry about splashing the water, and you bowed down until your head was nearly upside down, soaking your hair in the water.

“Here, let me help.” Douma spoke it as more of a demand, sitting opposite of you and cupping the water, bringing it to the base of your neck until your hair was thoroughly wet. The warm water was a pleasant sensation compared to the cold spring air, helping you relax further down toward the basin.

When he was satisfied with how wet your hair was, he began at the tips of your hair, nails carefully working through tangles and knots. Your breathing calmed, melting into the comfort of having your hair played with; likely the most relaxed you’d be around a demon.

As always with your shared ritual, he began to hum a gentle song, teasing you into a more restful state as his nails worked their way up towards your scalp. His touch was as light as he could manage, using the pads of his fingers to massage the rice water into your scalp, removing any oils and dirt. Douma loved playing with hair, but until he met you, he’d only done it with the heads of dead women. It was far more fun with someone who could respond.

When your hair was thoroughly washed, he helped you raise your head by guiding your chin, moving behind you so you could tilt your head back. Slowly, he started with both sides of the towel at your forehead, working in small circles to absorb any water on your face and guiding it along your hairline.

“Don’t fall asleep.” He reminded you, feeling your back meet his chest when you’d begun to relax too much. He didn’t mind if you did, but he liked to hear you mutter that you ‘weren’t tired’ whenever he’d tease you.

“Just hurry, Douma.” You mumbled under your breath, a yawn telling him his tricks were working. Knowing he could get you so relaxed brought him joy; he had your whole trust in the palm of his hands.

Regardless of your request, he didn’t hurry whatsoever. He kept on pushing the towel through the hair on your scalp in circular motions, pulling further back until he got to the very ends of your hair, occasionally detangling it with his fingers so it wouldn't knot again from the drying motions.

When it was no longer dripping, he had a perfect damp canvas to comb. He started by dipping his fingers into the jar of magnolia-scented oil, something he’d gifted you, and gently worked the small droplets through your hair. Once dispersed relatively well, he took the comb and started at the nape of your neck, dragging it two steps forwards and one step back over and over, pulling through every strand of hair. The grin on his face grew when he felt your weight on him increase; he could pick up the sound of your heart rate slowing with each combing motion. By the time he had evenly distributed the oil throughout your hair and scalp, you were in a deep sleep.

Gently, he set the comb aside.

His nails ghosted from your jawline up to your hairline and back through your hair, this time for nothing more than his own desire to feel you.

Douma shifted his position, pulling his sleeves back down to cover his freezing hands so the sudden cold feeling wouldn't startle you awake. Once comfortable, the demon began moving you slowly and deliberately until one of his arms hooked under your knees and the other supported your back. To keep your head from suddenly dropping, he kept you upright enough so your head could rest against his chest.

With that he stood, each candle and light source besides the embers burning below your hearth extinguishing as he passed. The only other light was the faint glow of his eyes as they admired your closed ones. He still hummed the lullaby that had drifted you asleep while he tossed your comforter open with his foot, nestling you down onto your bed until you were covered by the comfort of your sheets. The blankets had been kept warm by the fire, which was evidenced by how you seemed to curl under them.

“Sweet dreams, my lovely lotus.” Douma spoke softly, a tone of sincerity behind the words that he knew you hadn’t heard.