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Muzan Kibutsuji x R.femele.
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Muzan (in childish form) and Sayuri, a young woman with an ethereal appearance and personality inspired by Maomao (The Apothecary Diaries): intelligent, observant, ironic, a little clumsy, but extremely insightful - and not at all naive.
Sayuri, an intelligent and elegant young woman with an ethereal appearance and a sharp mind like poison, attracts the gaze of the immortal Muzan when he was still a child. He, disguised, watches her grow with a sick and silent obsession. Over the years, anyone who approaches her simply disappears. Even trapped under the veiled threat against her family, Sayuri never fears - she observes, plans, resists with her mind, not with screams.
Upon coming of age, Muzan finally takes her for himself - not by force, but with an old promise, fulfilled with a kiss of blood and a touch of possession. She accepts it, not for love, but for survival... or something more dangerous: mutual curiosity.
A couple where desire, control and power mix - he is the curse, she is the poisonous calm.
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The mansion's clock barely emitted sounds. Inside, at the eastern end of the property, there was an isolated library, smelling of dry parchment, old paint and polished wood.
Sitting alone under the soft light of a crystal lamp, Toshikuni - the boy with pale skin and deep dark eyes - leafed through an old volume bound with bluish leather. The pages talked about ancestral herbs, Chinese alchemy and disappeared floras. No concrete sign of Blue Spider Lily... yet.
His gaze was cold, meticulous, impatient under the mask of serenity. The pale little finger turned another page.
"Useless... everything is useless." - he thought with a slight tension in his jaw.
"Why did none of these mediocre humans register such a vital plant?"
The creaking of the sliding door took Muzan out of his focus. He closed the book slowly, placing a jade marker between the pages, and raised his eyes. His "adoptive parents" were at the door.
- Toshikuni-sama, forgive us for interrupting your study - said the woman with a reverent tone. - But we brought a special guest to spend the afternoon with you.
Between the two adults, Sayuri appeared.
She entered with an almost ethereal grace, but the look was much sharper than the sweetness of the face suggested. His crystalline eyes swept the library as if analyzing the structure of the soul of the place, and the crystallized lily fastener in his hair shone by reflecting the light of the lamp. The blue kimono with dark blue flowers seemed as silent as the room itself.
Toshikuni watched her as a snake studies the movement of a prey that, for some reason, is not afraid of the boat.
- Sayuri, this is the library where our Toshikuni spends most of his time. We thought maybe they could talk while we deal with... social issues. - said the woman, smiling politely and nervously.
Sayuri bowed with silent elegance.
- It's an honor, Toshikuni-sama.
Muzan tilted his head slightly. His eyes remained fixed on the crystallized blue lily clip in the girl's hair. Something... familiar. As if the symbol itself mocked him.
- You can sit down. - he said softly. - Do you like books?
Sayuri approached the mat, kneeling at a respectful but comfortable distance. His eyes passed through the piles of texts around him.
- It depends. If they are from poorly written romantic or spiritual stories, I prefer to wash windows. If they are about rare herbs, incurable diseases or subtle poisons... then yes. A lot.
Muzan watched her more closely. An almost invisible smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"She's like a curious insect. But not fragile... it seems more like the type that stings and leaves without being noticed."
- I'm studying medical botany... - he said, turning a page casually. - Maybe you can help me with something.
Sayuri raised an eyebrow.
- It's unusual for a child to be so interested in herbal medicine. Or... it's unusual for you to admit that. - she said, with a subtle irony. - What are you looking for?
- A flower. Very rare. Known for... growing and disappearing out of standards. No one knows exactly how she behaves.
Sayuri intertwined his fingers on his lap, his eyes still fixed on him.
- Blue Spider Lily? - he said, like someone who quotes something almost mythological.
Muzan maintained neutrality. But inside, something shook.
- Have you ever heard of her?
- Legends. Incomplete records. Some say it only blooms during the spring equinox. Others, which only appears when someone is about to die. - she tilted her head slightly. - But it's curious. Why exactly would a fragile child like you like to find him?
A dense silence fell between them.
Then Muzan smiled, cold as porcelain.
- Let's say I like the impossible.
Sayuri smiled back, with a cutting lightness.
- And I like to see the impossible being dismantled. Page by page.
The days in the mansion passed like the tea seasons: slow, calculated, silent.
Sayuri began to visit the library frequently, always called under fragile excuses - a tea delivery, a shared reading, a help with old translations. But both knew that visits were no longer for social courtesy.
She came because she liked the challenge that was Toshikuni. And he... well, he had already interrupted his readings several times just to observe the way the crystallized blue lily in her hair reflected the light.
One afternoon, Sayuri arrived with a small dark glass bottle attached to the obi strip.
- This is for you - she said, unceremoniously, placing the bottle on the table next to a Chinese parchment about fermentation.
Toshikuni arched an eyebrow.
- A mixture of ShΕ«niΓ n-hua with chrysalis poison. I was testing secondary reactions in myself.
He stared at her for a second longer than he intended.
- Do you... use poison on yourself?
Sayuri sat down as if she was about to report a poem.
- Of course. How can I trust an antidote if I don't know the taste of death? - she replied, moving her own hair with an almost bored air. - It was a minimal dose. I just needed a pine tea and two hours of meditation to stop sweating cold.
Toshikuni laughed. A rare, dry and involuntary sound escaped from his lips. Inside, something in him twisted - not of fear, but of... recognition.
"She's not afraid of pain. Not even death. Not even me. It's not ignorance... it's a decision. This is more than intelligence. That's freedom."
Over time, Muzan began to wait for her. A ten-minute delay was enough for his fingers to drum nervously on the table. He began to leave certain books purposely open where he knew she would spy. He created false riddles just to hear her unravel them with boredom and elegance.
And, deep down, he began to wonder:
"If I transformed her... would she survive?"
Not because of weakness. But out of curiosity. And because, for the first time in centuries, he didn't see Sayuri as a "piece". But like something I... couldn't control.
The sound of the rain against the windows of the mansion sounded like soft beats of impatient fingers. Inside, in the library, Toshikuni didn't read.
Sayuri had not appeared at the usual time. No door creaked. No floral tea aroma. No sarcastic comments about poisons or alchemy.
The book in front of him talked about breathing, but he barely saw the lyrics. Her thoughts were around that crystallized lily in her hair. From that look I saw through him - but never moved away.
The door creaky. Finally.
Sayuri entered with the kimono still wet, the white socks slightly soiled by the garden soil. I had in my hands a small pot with peels of some fermented plant.
- Don't hit me, I'm here - he said, with a lazy smile.
Toshikuni stared at her as if the world had returned to the axis.
- Where have you been? - he asked, with a soft voice, but strangely tense.
Sayuri landed the pot on the table, sitting in front of him without ceremony.
- In the plant nursery. I found a fungus that seems to feed on poisonous roots. I decided to test it in my tea. I almost threw up. It was fun.
Toshikuni looked at her with intensity. That long braid, the dragged voice, the eyes that never trembled. His blood, although slow, boiled.
"She challenges me. She ignores me. She provokes me. She's beautiful. She's mine."
- You shouldn't leave without warning - he said.
Sayuri raised an eyebrow.
- Are you going to trap me here with chains?
He didn't answer. He just stared at her.
"If I said yes, would you resist? Or would you smile with that painted mouth and face me until the end?"
- You don't understand. - he said. - I'm the only one here who can protect you.
Sayuri smiled, but her eyes frowned slightly. There was something in his tone... a strange heat. Like iron in the fire. Hot, but deadly.
- What exactly would you protect me from?
Toshikuni approached. His red eyes were now really open - no disguises, no mask. The voice came low, melodic, frightening:
Sayuri froze for a moment. Not of fear - but of alertness. Like a cat who realizes that the silence of the room is... alive.
"She's fragile. But no. It's not. She's tough. Smart. Mine. Only mine."
- You fascinate me, Sayuri. - he whispered. - Your mind... your stubbornness... your absence of fear. I've never seen something so... wrong and so beautiful at the same time.
- Is this a confession or a threat?
He smiled. Soft. With eyes full of a sick desire.
That night, he watched her return home from the high window of the mansion. The rain was falling thin. She walked gracefully, without looking back.
"I can destroy kingdoms, exterminate clans, shape the flesh. But I can't stop thinking about the sound she makes when she ties that hair."
And so, the Demon King, inside the skin of a pale and calm boy, fell in love for the first time.
But it wasn't a normal love.
It was a love you want to possess. That you want to keep. Who wants to break the whole world if she tries to run away.
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β The Night of Revelation
Sayuri returned from the greenhouse with her kimono sleeves rolled up, her hands stained with botanical ink, and her mind full of formulas she wanted to test.
But as soon as he crossed the lobby, he noticed the smell.
The porcelain tray I was carrying fell and smashed on the floor. The sound echoed like thunder in the empty mansion.
- Toshikuni...? - he called.
He ran to the library - the door was ajar. He pushed cautiously. And then you saw.
The woman who claimed to be his mother, fallen next to the desk.
The man, crossed by his own golden cane.
The maid, with her face frozen in terror.
And in the center of the room, he.
No more the fragile-looking boy.
Tall, thin, timson eyes shining with a lethal calm.
Dark, long hair, falling over the shoulders like black silk.
The skin was so pale that it almost shone in the candlelight.
Sayuri stagnated on the door frame. His heart raced, but his feet didn't move. The fear was real - but she was Sayuri. And Sayuri wanted to understand.
- ... You... - he murmured, his eyes fixed in the demonic form before her.
Muzan turned slowly. The eyes went through every detail of her - the kimono stained with paint, the white strands wet by the rain, the crystallized blue lily still firm in her hair.
He approached without haste. His feet didn't make sound. His presence swallowed the space.
Sayuri wanted to step back, but something kept her there. Curiosity? Resignation? Madness?
Muzan stopped in front of her, slowly raising his hand. His cold fingers held her chin with a disconcerting delicacy, as if she were made of glass.
- You looked beautiful with this lily today. - he whispered, voice low, velvety, dangerously kind. - It's growing... finally.
She frowned, still trying to understand the scene. Still trying to analyze.
- Why...? - she whispered.
His smile was slow. Obsessive.
- Because I got tired of waiting. But still... it's not the right time.
His eyes shone with something sick and affectionate at the same time.
- I'll be back when you're old enough.
- When your body... your mind... your soul... are ready for me.
Sayuri trembled. But not out of pure fear - it was a logical, rational cold. She understood what was happening. But still... there was no way out. Not a word.
Muzan leaned over, his face close to hers, his eyes burning.
- And I'll watch your every step until then.
- You'll be mine. By choice or by collapse.
He turned his back on him.
And with a last look over his shoulder, he whispered:
- Grow up beautiful. Grow strong.
And disappeared in the shadow like a steam.
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- The Passage of the Years, Whispers in the Shadows
Sayuri grew up. His body changed, his mind became sharper, his eyes more calculating.
But one thing remained constant:
He appeared from time to time. I never warned. I never asked for permission.
Sometimes, he appeared next to her when he walked through the gardens at dusk.
Other times, in the reflection of the makeup mirror.
There was already a night when she woke up, and he was there, sitting on the window frame, with his red eyes shining under the moonlight, like a wolf waiting for the prey to mature.
She didn't ask why. I didn't receive him with a smile, nor with terror.
I was just looking. In silence.
She knew. I knew he was keeping his promise.
Waiting. Observing. Surrounding.
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- You learned to control your breathing again. - he said, one day, while she grew roots in the courtyard.
- And you keep showing up without warning. - she replied, without even turning her face.
He smiled. That cold expression, satisfied. Like someone who caresses something they already consider theirs.
- Who talks to you a lot lately?
Sayuri froze for a brief moment. A silence. A calculation.
He passed his long, pale fingers over the stem of a blue lily.
He looked away to the necklace she wore - the same crystallized lily in her hair, now hanging from her neck, as if it were a seal.
- Was he relevant? - he whispered, referring to some young man from the village.
Muzan didn't answer. Just smile.
And so, the disappearances began.
A servant who had praised her hair: missing.
A young botanist who exchanged letters about rare flowers with Sayuri: missing.
An apprentice who tried to hold his hand in the market: he was never seen again.
He didn't even try to run away.
"If I move, he kills my parents."
Not for weakness, but for strategy.
Because if there's something Sayuri learned in these years...
It's just that monsters don't face each other head-on.
They poison themselves little by little.
Deep down, Sayuri knew...
He didn't see her as human.
A piece that still hasn't fit on the altar. A jewel waiting for the right frame.
And, despite the suffocating control, Sayuri survived.
She lived between contained smiles and botany books, creating poisons with delicate hands, writing formulas in invisible ink, studying every weakness of an immortal being who swore to possess her.
When I felt the air in the window freeze, and heard the deep whisper in the dark:
- It's almost time, Sayuri.
She just closed the book, put her hands on her lap and said:
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β The Night of the Promise Fulfilled
The house was adorned with blue lanterns.
A subtle touch of incense filled the air with the aroma of lilies, woody and sweet like poison.
Sayuri wore a new kimono: deep blue silk with silver embroidery, embracing every newly matured curve of her body with cruel perfection. The crystallized lily was now attached with a gold buckle, as if it sealed the destiny of something that would have no return.
Today, she completed nineteen winters.
Not through the doors. Not through the corridors.
But by the darkness of the house itself, as if the world expected its inevitable presence.
When she looked through the mirror, there he was - Muzan, in his full form, with bright red eyes, skin like polished ivory, and the look of someone who waited a century for the eternity of one night.
- Are you ready? - he asked, with a low, warm, velvety voice like a whispered curse.
Sayuri turned calmly. She didn't retreat. He didn't even moan.
He smiled - that insane and elegant smile, of a king who sees the crown finally fit in the right place.
- I've been here every year. Observing every gesture, every look you gave to someone other than me.
- And now... - he walked up to her, raising his pale hand until he touched her waist - ... there are no more limits.
She didn't answer. His crystalline eyes stared at him with that cold and burning glow, like ice on fire.
- Are you going to transform me? - he whispered.
He led her through silent corridors to a luxurious room - dark blue silk sheets, scented candles, open windows for the night, and a silence that made the heart beat higher than reason.
Muzan looked at her as if he wanted to decorate her inside.
As if her blood were a sacred scripture.
As if the heat of Sayuri's body was the only miracle that the sun could never give him.
When he touched her - it was slow, with fingers that knew anatomy like a doctor, but that trembled like a man for the first time.
When he touched his lips to her neck, it was with adoration, not hunger.
And Sayuri - no matter how much his body got goosebumps and his mind screamed "control" - left.
Because part of her wanted to feel, finally, the madness that surrounded her all her life.
Part of her wanted to break the cycle... inside.
The words, almost non-existent.
He whispered her name as a secret.
She squeezed his shoulders as if holding fate.
And when the bodies came together - there was no war.
There was fulfilled promise, possession and surrender, all in one.
Lying under the sheets, Sayuri stared at the ceiling.
- Are you still going to transform me?
Muzan ran his fingers through the lily of her hair.
I want this last night as a human to be... untouched.
Because tomorrow, everything would change.
Because tomorrow, maybe she would stop being her.
Or maybe she would let him be himself... with her inside.
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The dawn was immersed in a dense silence, broken only by the subtle sound of the wind swinging the curtains. The room still carried the aroma of burning candles and naked skin between blue silk sheets.
Sayuri was lying down, her eyes half-closed, her body still sensitive to his touch, but her mind was sharp as always - every beat of her heart echoing like an ancestral drum.
Muzan watched her in silence. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his long dark hair falling down his shoulders like liquid shadows. His look - pure chimson, and now full of something more than obsession.
- You know what's coming now - he said, his voice hoarse, low, hot as steam.
Sayuri didn't answer. He just turned his face in his direction and let the blue crystal of the fastener shine in the penumbra.
Muzan approached slowly. The face inches from hers.
- The last thing you'll feel as human...
Without warning, he bit his own tongue with the canines - deeply. The taste of blood spread quickly through his mouth, dark, thick, hot as fire.
Sayuri opened her eyes, instinctively arching her eyebrows.
He held her by the chin - firm, possessive - and kissed her.
The blood flowed from his mouth to hers, invading her senses with a metallic and dense taste, which did not look human.
Sayuri tried to retreat by reflex, but his fingers squeezed his jaw accurately.
- Swallow. - he whispered between his lips.
His body reacted as if liquid fire had been poured inside him.
The kiss continued, fierce, more of a ritual than a romantic gesture. Blood was the link. His tongue caressed hers with lust and mastery. He savored it - not as food, but as a final blessing.
When the lips parted, Sayuri gasped.
The chest went up and down.
The skin was already starting to burn.
- It's done. - he said, with a look of perverse pleasure. - Now you're mine... inside.
Sayuri took his hand to his throat. I felt the blood pulsating wrongly.
As if something was spreading slowly.
- How long...? - she managed to ask, already feeling her fingers start to tingle.
- Tomorrow, you will stop being mortal.
Today... you just suffer for it.
And he lay down next to her, watching every tremor, every change in the rhythm of breathing.
Like an artist admiring his own work come to life.
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