Chapter Text
Muzan had always preferred innards. They seemed to offer more nutritional value than skin and the shallow layers of flesh below it. They were warm and pleasant to bite into; sometimes squirming on his tongue when the nerves were still firing.
The doorman’s innards were much, much more palatable than his manners.
“Please…” Takeo gasped. His voice, once so grating, was nothing more than a weak rasp. He was all screamed out and Muzan had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. Deep in the Infinity Fortress there was no one to hear his pleas for mercy beside the demon king, and he had no intention of granting it.
Cracking open a rib, Muzan sucked out the marrow and contemplated the situation.
You remained a plague in his thoughts. Meeting you had done nothing to quell the incessant tug he felt, pulling him toward you. If anything it had gotten worse. And that enraged Muzan beyond measure.
He despised that you distracted him from his goal.
He loathed that he had felt compelled to act so meekly in your presence.
He even hated that you’d mentioned that you’d lost loved ones; even that you had loved ones at all. The thought of your heart aching for anyone else… no, why should it matter? You were nothing.
You were no one.
And yet above all else, it infuriated him to hear you call him Tsukihiko. The name had been a perfectly good one when he’d given it to other humans, even those who believed him to be their husband while he manipulated them into providing him with information. It was a fine name. But on your tongue it was abhorrent.
He needed to hear you utter his name.
And the worst of it, he was almost certain you looked nothing like her. Not even the evolving fashion or beauty trends were to blame for that. You simply were not her. And yet… and yet when you smiled, when you laughed, when you teased him, and walked by his side, he felt her.
“Perhaps I’ve spent too long in darkness,” he muttered, setting the hollowed rib on a platter beside him and dabbing the corner of his mouth with a silk napkin. “I find myself half-believing in ghost stories.”
“No more…” the fool on the table croaked, his voice veil-thin. “Please…kill me…”
“Do I look like a man prone to granting mercy, Takeo?” Muzan responded flatly, standing from the table and walking away, leaving his meal half-eaten. He tasted as bad as the temple’s food smelled anyway.
There was only one thing for it; he had to see you again. Perhaps he would have to kill you and be rid of you entirely. In less than a day you had managed to work your way beneath the surface of his skin and become a persistent nuisance, a splinter he needed to pluck out and be done with.
“Nakime, return me to the temple of the Eternal Paradise faith.”
The sharp twang of strings sent him straight to the garden; a fact he was grateful for as it meant he didn’t have to suffocate in that infernal incense while he searched for you. The moon was a thin crescent, barely illuminating the garden. Not that it mattered to him. Muzan’s vision was perfect even in the pitch dark. And he saw you at once.
You stood once more beneath the maple trees, a little oil lamp burning by your feet as you stared out into the darkness, completely oblivious to his presence. You weren’t afraid; he could hear your pulse thumping slow and steady. You were at ease in the night, delighted even, watching fireflies flash among the scarlet spider lilies, taking deep, greedy breaths of the cool night air.
Did the incense inside bother you as much as it did him, he wondered. Did you find similar solace in the garden as he did, content in your own company, separating yourself from the herd huddled within the temple.
Very quickly, he found himself once more bewitched by you.
Your eyes unknowingly met his, completely unaware of his proximity as he stood in his shroud of shadow, as though drawn to him by pure instinct alone. And damn it all, his heart thundered. How he longed to… to what? Kill? No… No, that drive was all but docile now.
But he wondered if you would feel the same in his arms as she once had. That comfort, that sense of belonging, of a tranquility only her embrace could offer. Even as a mortal man he had found himself so often consumed by rage, embittered by the world which had cursed him with a weak body and a life of constant pain. She had never succeeded in taking that from him, not fully despite her efforts. But her love distracted him from it for a time, her blunt and heavy-handed affection dulling the edges enough for him to find slivers of relief.
And those brief moments of respite were nothing compared to the surge of strength and the complete absence of pain granted to him by the blue spider lily formula. The night he transformed, a demon imbued with immeasurable power, he had taken her life. And it had been so very easy.
As easy as it would be to snuff out yours.
Returning his attention to you once more, he found that you were no longer relaxed, but alert, poised to flee or perhaps to fight, your eyes wide and heartbeat thundering. The electric scent of adrenaline peppered the air. Your instincts told you something dangerous lurked in the dark, and you raised the lamp to peer into the abyss.
Your fear reminded Muzan of his nature, cemented his resolve. He was there for one purpose, and one purpose only.
He was beside you in an instant, your sudden cry ringing out through the garden.
▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎
“f*ck!” a sudden spike of terror pierced your heart and emptied your lungs as Tsukihiko appeared beside you, smiling pleasantly.
“Good evening,” the man chuckled softly. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
A wave of heat washed over your face as you pressed your fingertips to your lips. “Tsukihiko! I’m so sorry. You must think I’m awfully vulgar.”
He dismissed your concern with a wave of his hand, “There’s no need for you to be sorry. It’s a dark night, I should have made more noise as I approached.”
In the golden glow of your oil lamp you could clearly see his attempts to suppress his amusem*nt, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched you with those hypnotic mahogany eyes. And you found yourself at ease immediately, a huff of laughter escaping you as Tsukihiko broke into a grin.
“Stop,” you chuckled, brushing a hand against his forearm. “It’s not funny.”
“It is a little.”
That man. You hardly knew him, yet somehow he already felt like an old friend. You walked with him, arm-in-arm down the shadowy paths, lighting your way with the little lamp, until you came at last to a lotus pond. The firelight illuminated the tranquil surface of the obsidian water, stirred only by the occasional insect and the ripples of the fish below.
“How has your evening been so far?” the man asked, as he sat beside you on a curved stone bench.
“Frustrating. I tried to find Takeo, the man who interrupted us earlier. I wanted to smooth things over with him but I haven’t been able to find him since.”
Tsukihiko gave a short, thoughtful hum. “I wouldn’t worry about him. I’m sure he has bigger problems to deal with.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, with the Lord Founder still missing, I imagine that man— what was his name again?”
“Takeo?”
“Takeo, yes. I imagine he has to handle a lot of the founder’s duties in his absence.”
That made sense, and made you a little more hopeful that your earlier transgression would be forgotten. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“But we didn’t come here to talk about Takeo, did we? Tell me about you. You’re very mysterious.”
“Me?” you chuckled. Mysterious wasn’t a word you’d use to describe yourself, and yet, the more you thought about it, the more you came to realize there weren’t a lot of details you could share about your life, and certainly not about your work with the Demon Slayer Corps. Civilians such as Tsukihiko were unaware of the Corps and even the existence of demons. Of course there were folktales and stories of monsters that prowled the night and preyed upon hapless individuals in the countryside, but judging by the way he dressed, Tsukihiko was from the city and likely didn’t believe in such things.
But you shared what you could; where you were born, who you were raised by and the life you so long ago left behind. And Tsukihiko listened intently, seemingly fascinated by the mundanity of your heavily edited tale.
“And now you’re here,” he said. “And I’m grateful that you are. This may only be the second time we’ve met, yet you somehow make everything more bearable.”
There again came that wave of heat rising on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest. “I feel the same way. It’s like… it’s as though I’ve known you my entire life and yet I don’t know you at all.”
He swallowed hard, his throat flexing above the hem of his yukata. “What would you like to know?”
“Who are you?” you heard yourself asking.
He stared at you for a moment before he smiled, turning his gaze from you to the still waters of the lotus pond. “I’m Tsukihiko.”
“And who is he? You said that you’re alone here. What about family? Children?” you asked, hesitating slightly before you continued. “A wife?”
“A wife,” he chuckled quietly. “I had a wife.”
Had.
“Oh.” An overwhelming sense of sadness overcame you, reflected back in his soulful eyes as his smile slowly faded. And at once you knew. The all-too-familiar pain in his eyes– the agony of one who had lost someone they loved dearly. Throughout your career as a demon slayer, you’d seen it countless times. “If it’s too painful to speak of—”
He shook his head, “It was many years ago. She died very young.” Silence fell between the two of you, broken only by the heavy breath which shivered from between his lips. “I was a sickly boy. My parents almost buried me as a baby, assuming me to be dead. My early years were plagued with illness and a pain no remedy could alleviate. I was so weak. But she… her patience, her compassion, her love. It was an arranged marriage but we came to love and understand one another so easily.”
The fingers on his hand curled as they rested upon his knee, the poor man’s agony so apparent you found yourself reaching out to place your palm over his fist, seeking to reassure him.
“A beast found its way into our home,” he said, his voice, usually so measured and smooth, trembling as he spoke, laced with agony and shattering desperation. “The neighbors speculated it was a wolf, or perhaps a bear. It attacked her in our bed and left nothing but blood and bones where she once lay.”
You clamped your free hand over your mouth in horror, the image of the blood-soaked room as vivid in your mind’s eye as the man before you. And you could feel it, every second of her agony and fear. You could feel a scream building in your throat as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. There was no doubt in your mind of the true nature of the beast he spoke of. It was undoubtedly a demon.“Tsukihiko…”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he fought to regain his composure. “Had I known…”
“There was nothing you could have done. You were a sick and frightened man.”
Those words seemed to trigger something inside him, his poise crumbling as he turned to face you, pressing his forehead to yours. Your hands raised to gently cradle his face while his fractured breaths blew against your lips
He closed his eyes. “Some part of me has despised myself—”
“No, no, you mustn’t. She loved you. She loved you so dearly.” What were you saying? The words spilled from you, as though your heart was an overflowing cup unable to contain them for even a moment. You spoke them firmly as though they were the irrefutable truth. “She adored you and never once blamed you for any of it, do you hear me?”
He nodded, a single tear spilling over your thumb as you held him. “Forgive me.”
“Of course,” you found yourself saying into the sliver of heated air between your lips and his. “None of it was your fault. I promise. She knew that too.”
Your pulse throbbed against the palm of his hand as he pressed it to the side of your neck, his fingertips seeking the warmth of your skin as his lips hovered agonizingly close to yours. His touches were so familiar, as though you had felt his caress countless times before.
And some part of you knew it was wrong; the man was a complete stranger grieving his late wife, and yet your lips sought his in the dark, met with such tender softness it made your heart ache and stoked a fire in the pit of your belly. Kissing him felt as natural as breath, and just as necessary; the quiet yet desperate sounds of his pleasure spurring you on, until you were kissing him with such passion the world faded around you.
Nothing else mattered; just you and he, and the overwhelming sense that finally, finally, you were home. And it made no sense at all, and you didn’t care one bit. He kissed you like a man starved, his arms surrounding you, holding you to him with possessive intensity.
And then he drew back, breaths heavy, eyes wide, lips swollen and parted. “ Oh …”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m going to hell,” you chuckled, head spinning from the intensity of his kiss.
“That’s okay, I’ll go there with you,” he said, before closing the gap between you until his lips were locked on yours once more.
