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fallstreakfeathers · 7 months

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WHERE LIGHT DWELLS

Warnings: au typical trauma, biting, Sekido bites you but not in the Fun Way, septic shock, vomiting. Not formatted for tumblr bc it takes forever on mobile We are now formatted for tumbl.hell, Reader is gn and not described.

Word Count: 8,085 8,385 (update as of 4/9/24)

If it's unreadable, try it on Ao3 : Where Light Dwells

( Taisho Secret: I don't like sekido.)

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Part 1

Your car purrs along the deserted backroad; a not-so-short-shortcut home to avoid the traffic on the main highway. The radio sings in the background, not that you’re really listening to it. You can’t even tell what’s playing over the wind that whips past your open window. Some old classics. Maybe country. It cuts in and out as cell service wanes, and you think that the atmosphere could fit a horror movie despite the daylight. It’s dilapidated enough, at least, and the wind pushes the trees in a way that makes the creaking branches look as if they might just snatch you up. The scenery that blurs past your window is more interesting than whatever song manages to glitch its way into your car. You drive over a pothole and the bumper jumps, jerking you in the seat. You wince. You don't remember that one being there last time, but with the size of the storm that wrecked the shingles on your neighbors roof a week ago, it was a miracle there were no downed logs. Yet.

A dark, unusual shape catches your eye as you navigate the pits and ruts of overgrown foliage and litter amongst a twig-strewn dirt road. At first you ignore it- after all, it’s probably just another bag of trash someone’s dumped in the woods. But, something about the shape of that shadow tugs you back, and you hesitantly slow your vehicle and put the gear in reverse.

Gravel and dead leaves crunch under the wheels as you stop, and the closing door startles you in the uneasy peace of the forest. Even the birds seem quiet today. Heavily aware that you are alone in the woods, on a backroad that is so rarely traveled anymore that it’s more grass than dirt, you creep towards the dark figure and peer over the side of the ditch. Your face pales. That’s… there’s a hand poking out from under a large bush. And ragged clothes that don't hide whatever it is from the suffocating heat. You’re trying not to freak out, praying it’s a mannequin, or even someone's… personal toy. Anything but a corpse. It stinks, a rotting, pungent sweetness that turns your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s whatever is in front of you or if it’s the miles of trash and dead plants around you. Several steel wires had been wrapped around a cedar tree behind the bush, and you swallow hard as you see the iron is stained red. You hope it’s rust. The wind dies down, and you swear you can hear labored breathing as you crouch in the ditch, trying to see under the bush without sticking yourself in reach. Your heart sinks further.

There’s an adult man hiding under the leaves, and you can tell from his pointed ears and the horns that curve out of his forehead that he's a demon. Someone's pet, from the looks of the rusty tag hanging from chains way too tight on his neck. Red, swollen bug bites pock his arms in a furious itchy red. You pull your own sleeves down. The bindings cut his flesh, leaving gaping wounds that cross around his body. They look inflamed, from what you can see. Something yellow oozes from a few of them, mixing with the blood soaking the ground under him.

There’s several deep punctures in his arms that are obviously from another demon’s teeth. Possibly even its horns. Then the wind changes and the smell hits you full force. You stumble back, stomach cramping as you try not to retch. The demon pulls his trembling hand back as the leaves move, trying to hide his sun-burned skin from the heat. Demons… the sun hurts them much faster than it does humans, you remember. At least, prolonged exposure does. From what you’ve heard. Not that you’ve ever dealt with demons. You’ve never even met one, except for the unfortunate, skulking thing your friend kept around. The girl wouldn’t even meet your eyes, shoulders hunched and tense like she was expecting to be hit for even breathing. Her ratty hair had hidden her face. You disapproved of the concept of a demon ‘pet’, but your friend insisted it was better than a dog or cat. Traditional pets couldn’t do household chores. Or wash your car. The demon under the bush stilled, his eyelids shut tight with an ugly grimace on his face. Sharp fangs poked at his bottom lip. He was curled in on himself as much as he could with the bindings. His long, dark hair was matted with twigs and grime, and he trembled. With what, you couldn’t tell. Pain? Cold? Maybe both. You peer around, trying to see if this is some kind of sick trap. A joke. But you’re as alone as you were when you stopped the car. As alone as you thought you were. You shift on your feet, a twig cracking under your weight. It seems to echo on the otherwise quiet road. In a split second, the demon lunges from the bushes with a vicious snarl, his hands outstretched before his body is snapped back by wires that held fast and branches that creaked in their reluctance to release him. You lose your balance on the gravel as you scramble backward, seconds too late. If it hadn’t been for the bindings that tied the demon to the tree, you’re sure he would’ve been upon you. For now, though, drool drips unbidden from his growling mouth, and the demon’s blood-red irises stare at your crouching form with a furious, biting hatred that had you shivering almost as much as he was. He did not want you here- that much was obvious when he attempts to lunge once more, spitting gore and drool on the ground with a howl. The chains and wires whined, creaked, snapped bark off the cedar tree as much as they dug bloody ruts into the man's skin. Then, to your surprise, he slinks back into the bushes and collapses with a pathetic groan. His eyes dart around, unfocused and… confused. Like he didn’t know where he was. You quickly finished giving him his space, breathing heavily. It was horrifying, seeing a sapient being act so beastly, but if someone could chain him to a tree then you couldn’t bear to think about what he must have been through. He’s delirious, you realize. And obviously aggressive. Scared, you tell yourself. Probably scared. Hopefully just scared. The sun is high and the demon shakily pushes himself against the tree to hide again. It’s quiet now, except for his ragged breaths. After several minutes pondering options, you hear the demon move again. He’s in the shade, straining against the creaking metal wire and rustling bush. They seem like they might snap from the struggle, but they cut his flesh more instead. He hisses, struggling like a flailing dog. You look away, unable to watch while the demon stumbles around. He can’t move more than a couple feet in any direction, and the more he moves the more entangled he becomes in the bushes. It’s quite obvious by now that he isn’t thinking clearly. You worry that the chains cutting into his throat will choke him to death, or he’ll die of blood loss. He hasn’t stopped growling, and any time you move he bares his teeth at you with a glare. You take your opportunity when he stops to rest a moment.

“Hey! Hey,” you gently call, raising your hands in a surrendering gesture. The demon swings his head towards you, eyes flashing. He loses his balance more than once as he waits for whatever you’re about to do. But, the growling stops as he stares, and he only releases an occasional grumble if you shift on your feet too much- a warning not to come close. You heed it. You feel like you’re trying to calm a bear. The demon’s wounds aren’t healing, you notice with a frown. Odd. You’ve heard that a demon has much better regenerative capabilities than humans do. They heal within hours. Sometimes minutes, depending on genetics. Unless something is wrong. You wonder if that something has to do with the petals smashed on the chains. A sweet purple color amidst the rusted reds and dying leaves.

He collapses once more, wheezing, and you make your decision. You can’t leave this man to die here, but it’s very obvious that nothing would be accomplished if you couldn’t earn even a little of his trust. You stand yourself up, ignoring his grouching, and quickly return to your car with a final look around the area. “I’ll be back, okay?” You promise. He doesn’t believe you, pretends not to hear- has no reason to. You’re human. Like the bastards that took his brothers. That tied him to this horrid tree. You’ll drive off and you’ll never return. Probably won’t even drive down this road again. You’ll drive off… and he’ll suffer slowly until death finally frees him. Sekido winces quietly as the driver's door closes and the engine roars to life. He’s too spent to move any further than to fall into the bush again, but he doesn’t think himself pathetic enough to try to crawl after you as you drive away anyhow. He’d tear his own throat out before he let himself be that weak, even in his delirium.

You swallow the lump in your throat, increasing your speed to turn a corner. You knew nothing about demons. Didn’t know how much time you would have to save this man’s life. The forest whipped past. Then, you lost sight of him. I am going to die here, Sekido thought. He was going to die at the side of an abandoned road in agony and despair, and nobody would ever care for him or care that he was scared. He covered himself with the bush to the best of his abilities, trying to fight off the chills without letting the cursed sun burn him anymore than it already had. And then, he closed his eyes with a groan. He hoped this would be the last night. Hoped he wouldn’t wake again. Hoped his brothers were someplace better than the hellhole he’d been thrust into.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Time crept along slowly, minutes felt like hours, but eventually Sekido had fallen into a fitful sleep. His respite was cut short forty-five minutes later by the car door that jarred him from rest. He held himself still. Just wants to die in peace. Is so dizzy he could’ve sworn the trees were dancing above him. Footsteps crack on dry gravel, hesitating a moment before retreating to the vehicle.

You approach him slowly, trying not to scare the demon any more than you knew he already was. Or make him angrier. The emotions are so often intertwined, you muse to yourself. In your nervous hands is a package of raw meat and a wide-lipped water bottle, and for a minute you consider the intelligence behind what you were about to attempt. Demons don’t eat human food (according to the website you hastily searched up in near panic), but they can eat uncooked meats. Could even go long periods of time without eating at all, though it wasn’t necessarily healthy. Food was to be ‘used as a reward’, the website had said. Taken away as a punishment. They needed water as much as any other living thing, the article had admitted in its explanation of the twisted expectations of demonic obedience and training. Your nose scrunched in disgust at the casual cruelty. You hoped the demon would at least take the water.

“Hey,” you softly say, crouching on the ground out of the demon's reach. He stares at you as you approach, snarling lowly. His sight locked firmly on you, even as the wind blew strands of matted hair into his face. But, he didn’t lunge, and that was a good sign. Hopefully. You took the opportunity to scan the parts of him you could see. His injuries looked even worse than when you’d found him, and with eyes that seemed to sink into their sockets, he was obviously dehydrated. You wonder how long he’d been strapped to this tree. Part of you thought it best if you don’t know.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’ve got water.” You shake the clear bottle and take another tentative step forward. “I just want to help…” It was strange, speaking to a human-shaped being like he was an animal. But you didn’t know how else to talk to him. Weren’t sure if it would make him worse to be spoken to as an equal.

His eyes are full of doubt. Glazed. Humans don’t help. Humans take, are selfish. Lie and destroy. Beat you senseless for surviving. You can tell how sick this poor, trembling man is- even through the growling and drool. Sweat drips off his face and his skin is so ashy anyone could mistake him for a corpse. Except that he is still yowling his displeasure like an untamed cat. He watches the water longingly. Desperately. “Please let me help you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice quiet. You unscrew the bottle and hold the water out, approaching the demon sideways and angling your body away so you wouldn’t be crawling directly towards him. You hoped that you would seem like less of a threat that way. That’s how the internet had said to approach a stray dog, at least. Your arm is just out of his reach as you await his reaction. You shuffle another step forward. He snarls again, spitting and stumbling to his knees. Droplets of blood wet the crumbling leaves. His unfocused gaze finds the water again, but he doesn’t seem to believe this isn’t some cruel trick, even as he sniffs the air at you. Your eyes mist at his stench. You aren’t sure if the demon is even aware of the way he smells. You hope not. Somehow you think that might be for the best. You wonder if he can even feel shame, dehumanized as he is. You don't let yourself entertain the question of whether someone inhuman can even be stripped of his personhood. The wind shuffles through the bushes again and the dying sun casts long shadows in the forest around you. It makes the demon look more skeletal than he did before. His eyes squinted in fury, teeth clenched so tight it must hurt, like he couldn’t believe the gall you must have to even approach something like him. You knew you would have to push past your own fear before this man would ever let you help him- and that you are his last hope. Nobody else would help an aggressive demon- much less take care of him. Too much work, some posts on that horrible website had said. Not worth it, others lamented. Better for everyone to just cut their necks and get a new demon than to deal with something that’s broken. You weren’t going to let that happen.

And so you gulp your anxiety down, trying not to let your arm shake the water out of the bottle. No use drowning the forest floor. For a moment you fear he’ll lunge. His eyes, red as the blood that drips from his wounds, are locked solidly on you when they aren’t flickering about like a shadow might attack him. When he tenses you freeze until he stops trembling again. Like a macabre game of red-light-green-light.

Your thighs burn. He’s ready to fight you off. That much is clear even with his sickly pale skin and panting breath. Even if he can barely stand. Even if he’s so dizzy it seems the breeze might blow him over. “Please,” you beg quietly again, moving another few inches closer to the shivering demon. A mistake. He howls with panicked eyes, springing towards you and catching your arm before you can do anything. Just as fast, he sinks his sharp teeth into your forearm with a violent snarl, ignoring your screams. He bites harder, dragging you under him as you kick at him. You drop the water bottle and it tumbles, diluting the bloody ground. The demon hovers over you, pinning you to the moss as his blunt nails dug into your flesh.

You could feel the second your skin gave way and ripped. His body quaked in his violence, even as you sobbed. “Stop!” You wailed. You swear you can feel something cracking in your arm, and shriek again as his teeth grind further. Your vision blurs. You push your leg against his stomach, hitting against his head with your free arm in hopes of getting him to release you. It does nothing to stop the hissing beast atop you. “I’m sorry! Please!” You cry. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You know that nobody travels these roads, which is why the demon was dumped there in the first place.

Nobody would help you. You were entirely at the mercy of a violent, sick demon out of his mind with rage (terror). Your blood is hot, painfully so against his sticky tongue.

Almost sweet. He’s not sure if it’s the chills that have wracked his body for the last two and a half days, or if he’s just so starved that anything in his mouth burns like an open wound. A flicker of emotion passes over his face, disappearing as quickly as it came but you recognize the fear through your tears. He’s terrified of you, even as his drool mixes with your blood. You can’t breathe against the grip he has on your neck, and you know it’s going to bruise if you get out of this alive. Flailing weakly, you push against the demon again, grabbing at his cracked, flaky horns, and again it’s useless. Even in his half-starved, dehydrated and ill state he is so much stronger than you. You vaguely remember something about that on the website as black spots dance across your horizon. “Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” you gasped, trying to swallow any amount of air to soothe your burning lungs. Petrified. The demon doesn’t let go, but he isn’t biting any harder. You hope… you hope maybe you’ve gotten through to him somehow. You wonder if anybody would ever find your body out here. If so, would they find the demon as well? You hope he doesn’t have some transferable disease. You curse yourself for stopping your damn car. You hope he remembers to let go of your throat as you finally fall to the darkness and go limp under him. You don’t feel him trembling, collapsing against your chest with a weak groan.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Your throat burns, feels like sandpaper against the flesh as you wake to starry skies and a deeper, throbbing pain in your arm. Something heavy lays over you. Shivering. Muttering something as it twitches. Your clarity returns and your sight adjusts to the dark, revealing the demon that has fallen over you like a limp doll. Pale as death. Exhausted and groaning in his sleep. His eyes flicked under the lids. The demon's teeth had abandoned your arm. Left gaping, circular holes that you try not to look at lest you panic again. You take in your surroundings with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the deserted forest road. The water bottle had been drunk- what was left of it, anyway- and left crumpled on the ground. Streaks of blood painted the inside, like the demon had tried to sweep up any of the moisture that refused to fall with his tongue. You winced, moving your injured arm, but stopped when the demon grunted. His body jerked in his sleep, brows furrowed. Cloth had been tied tight around your wound- the man’s hand was still touching the wrappings. He must have used the last of his strength to prevent you from bleeding out, using scraps he tore from his own filthy, barely usable clothes. And then, he fell from the effort. It would explain the haphazard way he was draped over you. Your nose wrinkles from the stench, and you have to try yet again not to choke as you feel his greasy hair brush your face.

The poor thing seemed to have a permanent scowl, his face downturned even in his restless sleep. You make use of the opportunity to take in his appearance more.

He was almost entirely human-looking, except for the two curved horns on his clammy forehead and the wine-colored cracked skin that stopped before his brows and also colored the underneath of his eyes. His nails, long but blunt, had bits of dried blood under them. You couldn’t tell if they were naturally that dark blue color or it was the dirt caked to them. The demon looked as if he would have been quite built had he not been so emaciated. Even his face, sickly as it was, seemed like it had a hidden beauty to it that couldn’t be marred by his ragged trousers and worn wife-beater that was barely passable as a shirt anymore.

His weight against you is uncomfortable- sharp bone poking in all the wrong places, his breath quick and harsh against the quiet night. You breathe shallowly yourself in an attempt to avoid absorbing his fetid air. Sweat continued to drip from his forehead. You slowly, carefully, hold your uninjured hand in front of his dirt-caked skin and frown. You could feel his fever from an inch away. The wires tying him glint in the moonlight when he shifts. You had bolt cutters in the trunk of the car, along with a cooler of bottled water and more meat. He hadn’t eaten anything- the package was too far out of reach and now ruined by the sleeping sun. Your arm needed to see a hospital. He had missed any arteries, thank God, but you probably needed stitches. And antibiotics. Who knew what was in a demon’s saliva. But… Something in you knew you couldn’t leave this demon alone here, even with the injury he’d inflicted. If you left the demon here and went to the hospital, if the staff found out he was the one responsible, he would be killed without hesitation. You wondered if you might just be crazy.

You had to be.

The demon stirs, slowly opening his eyes. His hands press against you as he blinks, clearing his vision. He growls again with a sharp grimace, then he looked away, scowling tensely at a bush. Like he could light it aflame with his anger. Of course. Was he ever going to stop growling and giving you the stink-eye? It had surpassed the point that it was no longer frightening you. Now it just made you sad. It seemed as if he had no real control over his reaction to people, even if that person was trying to help. As if the anger that found its way through his clenched teeth was instinctual.

You stay very still, trying not to scare him. Or make him angrier. With his weight against your sternum, it's not like you could really move if you wanted to. Quietly clearing your burning throat you open your mouth to speak, then close it, unsure of what to say or how to break the ice. What do you say to a demon who nearly tore your arm off a couple hours ago? You wondered if he’d ever had a moment of peace in his life.

His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment you worry he might attack again. When he doesn’t lunge, despite his feral gaze, you finally speak. Maybe you could still work your way into his trust? Or at least, get him to stop jabbing you with his elbow.

“If you let me up,” you start quietly, softly, almost a whisper, “I can get those wires off of you. And get you food and water, but… but you have to promise that you won’t bite me again.” Your eyes are misty from the pain that throbs in your arm. Gravel digs into your back, and despite your compassion for a demon you knew probably had not an ounce of love shown towards him, and your honest wish to help, you are very scared of what this man might do to you if you tried to do anything without his acceptance again.

He studies you intensely, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, contemplating your offer. Like he knew you’re his last chance. He finally nods with a derisive snort, shakily leaning himself off you and slumping against the cedar tree.

You slowly move back, away from his reach, and realize that you don’t even know what to call this man. “What's your name?” You weren’t expecting an answer, weren’t even sure if the demon could speak. For a long moment there was nothing but silence while he continued to gawk at the ground, then- “Sekido,” he muttered quietly. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. You waited for him to keep talking, but he doesn’t.

Just stares at the dirt. “Okay… okay,” you take a deep breath. A name is progress, even if minorly so. “Sekido, I’m going to go to the trunk of my car. I have bolt-cutters in the back. I’m going to get that wire off you before we do anything else, okay? But I can’t do that if you’re going to bite me again. Do you understand?” You prayed he understood. Prayed that he’d let you get this over with. Prayed this was a bad dream and nobody could be so cruel, and you’d wake up without a bite in your arm.

Sekido’s body stills and he nods slightly, just barely noticeable. “Fine, human…” he grumbles. Spits ‘human’ like it’s a disease. As you shuffle to your feet, your legs numb and tingling, pondering the inhumanity that led this man to be tied to a tree, you think it might as well be.

You limp to your car and open the trunk with one hand, shuffling through the random assortment of items stored there (you’ll use them someday) until you reach a small red toolbox. You take the mini bolt cutter and trudge back to the rut. “I’m going to come beside you, okay?” You’d definitely learned your lesson about approaching this man without explicit permission. You weren’t eager to risk a repeat, so for now you would narrate everything you were about to do (in an effort to keep him from panicking) and wait for Sekido to confirm that it was okay.

He eyes the tool in your hand with scrutiny, trying to read your true intentions, and finally gives the slightest nod of his head. The wires cut into his skin horribly- far worse than you’d originally thought. Every movement sawed them deeper. Some areas, the few those odd purple petals were absent, had begun healing over. Quite literally trapping the metal inside. You couldn’t force yourself to imagine what that felt like, but you cursed quietly. “Sekido, I… I don’t know how to cut these things in a way that isn’t going to hurt,” you admit slowly. “They’re in you pretty deep, and-”

“-Just do it!” He snapped, glaring at you viciously. “Or are you too stupid to cut me free?” You blink at the insult. This demon… is not very nice, you think.

Not that you really blame him. Some part of you thought it was a good thing that he felt okay enough to hurl insults, so you said nothing in return. Maybe he didn’t think he would be punished for it. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care at this point.

At least he was cooperating.

“I’m sorry.” You lift the pliers to cut the first wire, and it twangs loudly, springing away with coiled force. Sekido jumps slightly as the wire breaks, then glares at you again like you weren’t supposed to see that minor display of weakness. Crimson blood dripped from the open wound. “You’re slow, human. Cut me free.” You ignore his impatience, unwilling to harm him any more than he already was. They were good cutters, but the vibrations left from the cut metal sent ripples into your hand. Rendered it numb. Spilt trickles of blood from the wound on your arm that you caught the demon glancing at once or twice. Finally, all but one had been cut from Sekido’s body. The man had torn the metal strings from his healing body as soon as they’d been clipped, despite your horrified gasp. Saved you from fumbling with them like an idiot.

Now, only the one wrapped around his neck remained. You were in awe that anyone could survive these injuries, even a demon, and you stare with hesitation at the wire cutting his throat. That is an incredibly vulnerable area. Sekido, to his credit, kept himself rooted to the spot throughout the process, but he flinches violently when you reach for his neck. Still, he does not bite you again. “Hurry up, stupid human. You’re wasting time,” he grumbles. Tries to hide his shaking hands by gripping his thighs so hard it draws blood. His sanguine glare seems like he’s challenging whether you’re brave enough to even attempt it. “It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper. You aren’t sure if it was for him, or for your own state of mind, as you finally reach his neck. As your fingers finally make contact with his neck and the wire, the demon abandons his bravado with wide eyes and a sharp growl. Within milliseconds, his hand grips your wrist, digging into the skin. “Sekido.” His eyes have glazed again. He wobbles a bit, shifting on his knees with a labored groan and steadies himself with a hand against the moss-covered ground. “Hey, look at me,” you coaxed gently, your voice a mix of concern and compassion. As you reach out, your hand delicately covers his. He hisses at the contact, but you don’t pull away. You realize, now, that even if you managed to get this demon free- even if you get him to a vet- he will never survive the week. His chance at rehabilitation is slim at best. He would never be able to handle people or the basic expectations society has of demonkind. You wonder if he even knows how to respond to kindness. Or his own fear- you couldn’t imagine not being terrified in his circumstance but Sekido seemed to consider it a weakness. Even if you saved him tonight, he would be executed before the end of the month. Unless… “It’s gonna be okay,” you reassure him with startling conviction. You’d keep him. You have to, and there’s not a doubt in your mind now that you’ll have a new, half-feral companion in your house come tomorrow. Somehow, you don’t feel so afraid anymore- not of this man who does not know kindness’s name. He desperately needs to. You just hope that he can deal with that.

Finally, Sekido releases a heavy breath and lets go of your wrist. “Quickly.” He orders, tilting his neck just enough to expose the horrible steel binding. The tension in the air is palpable as you gingerly push a finger under wire, and wince as fresh blood seeps from the open wound.

You can feel Sekido’s studious gaze on you. The intensity makes you want to crawl away and hide. You shake the thought from your head and continue to unwrap the cords. The pain in his tense posture is undeniable, but he holds himself still again until the wire slowly begins to loosen its grip on his throat. You can see the relief wash over him as the pressure fades, but the blood flows steadily now.

Another glint of steel beneath the blood forces your face to pale again. The wire had crossed over itself, pushing its brother deeper into Sekido’s flesh than you’d initially thought. Whoever tied Sekido to this tree wanted him to suffer until his death. You wipe away the misty tears threatening to form. How could anyone possibly be so cruel to any living being? Much less to something so human? “There’s another one,” you manage to tell him. “Sekido, I’m not sure if I can…That one is so deep, I…What if you…” Your voice trails off, your concern too heavy to speak. The depth of this wound is staggering, and the thought of worsening his condition looms ominously in your mind. Wilts away the courage you’d managed to keep thus far. Sekido’s lip curled, his patience wearing thin with your hesitation. The demon grunts irritably, his tone laced with anger and frustration as he retorts sharply- “What? What if I bleed out? Idiot human, I’ve been doing that for days!” He grabs your wrist again, and this time he thrusts it to his neck, nearly bloodying your hand in the wound. “Get this fucking thing off me!” He barked. His pale fangs glinted in the moonlight. “I don’t care if it bleeds! Cut it off!” He’s breathing heavily, grips your ankle as you stand up. You slip one blade of the cutters under the wire without another word, at an angle in an attempt to not touch the exposed flesh underneath. Then, as he opens his mouth to order you again you press the blades together with all your strength. It snaps and you hear Sekido’s teeth crash together again. Sends vibrations up your injured arm. You yelp, collapsing beside the demon and curling over on yourself and clutching your bitten arm in an attempt to mitigate the pain with a groan.

Sekido stares at you, gazes at your injury- the injury he caused- and looks away as you catch him.

He won’t apologize. You don’t expect him to, wouldn’t ask it of him. Somehow you know that’s not in his nature.

Instead, you slowly gather yourself and back away from him- give him his space. Now that he had no reason to force himself to accept your presence you weren’t sure how he would behave. So you rise shakily to your feet and turn to stumble your way back to the car. He watches you. Stares into your back as you put the tool back in the box and contemplate how you could get the demon to follow you now. Thanks to that stupid website, you knew that demons were trained to follow a human's command- under the threat of punishment usually, should the demon refuse. You would never hurt him, but… maybe you could order him into the car? But, would he even listen? You are not his master. You open the backseat door anyway, turn to face the demon who’s eyes seem to glow now in the moonlight. “Sekido,” you start firmly, hoping you wouldn’t have to order him like a misbehaving dog. “I would like you to get in the car.” Sekido’s eyes harden, and his body stiffens. He does not move, glares at you like he’s been doing all evening. After a long and awkward minute of staring at each other, seeing who might break first, you steel your resolve. “Sekido, get in the car,” you order him firmly, though not unkindly. He stays for a moment. You think he might refuse again, but then he slowly, dizzily, stands up and limps his way forward. You want to help him but he snarls when you take a step forward, so you let him crawl from the ditch by himself. He pauses before the door. Grumbles a quiet, “I hate all you humans,” and then slumps over on the seat before pulling himself completely into the car. You almost allow a small, fond smile. What a brat.

“You can hate me as much as you want. I won’t try to stop you,” you replied. You were shocked he was complying so quickly, but it suddenly made sense when he collapses completely in the back. Only then did the thought pass that perhaps you should’ve laid some kind of cover on the seat to protect the leather from the blood and filth. Returning to the back of the car, you grab another bottle of water from the cooler and uncap the lid. You hold it out to Sekido. “Slowly.” Sekido stares at you, then the water, and now your extended hand. He grabs the bottle. Then, he sits there with it, just… staring. “Please drink?” You wait patiently for a few moments, shifting awkwardly on your feet, but he does not drink. You knew the water would be like heaven to his parched throat, but he simply held the liquid, quivering. What else did that awful web article say, you tried to remember. Ah. That’s right. Demons weren’t allowed to have anything, own anything, use anything without permission. Only people own things. You were sure now that Sekido’s previous caretakers had beaten him for simply eating or drinking. Surviving. He obviously wanted the water- his eyes hadn’t left it- but…

You frown, and Sekido gives you a long look- mistaking the downturn of your lips dissatisfaction with him. You look up at the bright moon, steeling yourself for again treating this person as less than, because there was no other way to get through to him right now. “Sekido, drink the water,” you order quietly. He clutches the bottle, crinkling the plastic as he raises it to his lips immediately. Sekido flinches when the cool water drips on his sunburned chin, then he tips his head all the way back and swallows the liquid hungrily. He’s drinking so fast he’s nearly choking on it, and the bottle is empty in seconds- before you even have a chance to request he slow down. “Give me more,” he says bitterly. “I’ll get you more,” you promise slowly, “if you can keep down what you’ve swallowed. You drank that really fast… I want to make sure you don’t get sick, okay?”

You hope he’ll understand your concern. “When we get home, you can have as much as you’d like. And some food, too.” You’d decided against feeding him for the time being- just until you knew he could keep liquids down. If he couldn’t handle water, he definitely couldn’t handle anything as heavy as meat. Sekido glares at you from the back seat. He tries to take a deep breath, but coughs instead. “Just give me more!” He snaps. You want to, you want to more than he knows. “You’ll get more, Sekido. But we have to make sure you don’t stress your stomach. I swear, you’ll have so much water you’ll be bored of it!” His lip curls, and he slams his clenched fist on the leather. “Give it to me now!” he bellows angrily, gripping the back of your chair hard enough to leave imprints from his long fingernails. He didn’t seem concerned at all about consequences anymore. You flinch hard at his volume, startled. Even with all his snarling and grumping, he’d yet to shout at you. You shake your head in frustration, but you could see the desperation in his wrath. In an attempt to keep control of the situation, you take a breath to calm your voice, and you close the back door. “Let’s go home, Sekido,” you say as you slump in the front seat, nose scrunching at the putrid smell that’s invaded your vehicle. You wonder if you’ll have to have the seats scrubbed- remind yourself that it isn’t his fault. Sekido’s head jerks toward the doors as the lock clicked and the engine roared to life. You glanced in the back seat, at the demon you met only hours before- a stranger now trapped in this vehicle with you. His trembling had gotten worse, even with the uncomfortable heat in the car- a burning warmth that brought sweat to your brow. You exit the car again, unlock the rear door, and pop the back hatch to grab an old blanket you’ve kept for emergencies. “Here,” you hold it out to Sekido with your injured arm. He glances at the blanket, then slowly at you- does not take it, even when you push it a little closer. Does not make a sound.

So you make the decision for him and carefully wave it over his back. “Try to relax. Just a little… if you can.” The back door closes before he can respond, and then you’re slowly stepping on the gas pedal to leave the crackling gravel road. You don’t crack the windows.

The overwhelming reality of his situation hits him like a crashing wave, and he clutches the blanket tightly over himself- is grateful your eyes are on the road and not on his pathetic display of weakness. It is the first time he’s had such a simple comfort in longer than he remembers. A sigh leaves his cracked lips at the minimal relief it provided. He is alive. He is alive, and in a car, and someone saved him. Believed he was worth the trouble. It didn’t matter now the reasons behind this odd human’s relentless pursuit of him despite his aggression. All that mattered was that he would survive tonight, even if you would inevitably abandon him. Even if his head was swimming, and he couldn’t focus, and it took all his strength even to sit up. Even if his stomach cramped, and his wounds hurt, and he was still bleeding crimson pus on the leather seats. Even if the heated cushions and warm air did nothing to stave the chills that kept him shivering like a dog. Why on earth was he still so cold?

“Who are you?” Sekido’s gruff voice drifted from the back seat.

You give him your name, tell him you’re nobody special- was just passing by on the road. Couldn’t leave him there. He listens with an almost-amused snort.

Stops cold when you ask him about himself, if he has family. For a long minute, you think he won’t answer. You peer in the mirror, and see his eyes are closed. Maybe he fell asleep. You wouldn’t blame him for it.

Would be grateful, even. Then, slowly, quietly: “I… had… family.” You could barely hear him. It was like the words had to be forced from his throat. The wind whipped past the closed window with a hollow sound as the treeline closed in, leading you into a tunnel.

“Can you tell me about them?” Part of you was afraid of pushing too much, afraid that he wasn’t ready to talk about something personal, so you don’t hold your breath as you awaited his response. You just drive, sailing smooth around bends and corners as you try to bring this tortured soul home- attempting to make the journey as gentle as possible. “Three brothers,” he said simply, his breath heavy. “I had a father… a long, long time ago. Dead now, most likely. The old coward…” he trailed off. He didn’t seem to hold hate for this father of his, despite the insult. You decide not to press further about that one yet. “Tell me about your brothers,” you replied softly. “... Aizetsu is the youngest,” Sekido said slowly. “He’s always sad about something, but… kind. Compassionate.” The demon shifted, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter against himself, hoping the pressure might ease his nauseous stomach. “Urogi is obnoxious, loud and stupid. He never shuts up. Always too damn friendly with everyone. Always has enough energy to go around…” He coughed with a grunt and sigh. You glanced in the back, making sure he was alright but said nothing to ask about his condition. Somehow you knew it would only anger him to be seen in this state of supposed weakness. “Karaku is the eldest under me… and so different. Karaku never gets angry about anything. He always had to be touching you… I-... I hated them,” Sekido lied, choked wetly on his own untruth as he tries to bury his emotions the way he buried his head against the seat. Tries to slow the rapid bump-bump-bump of his heart before this strange human hears it. He had no control here. But then, when had he ever had control of anything in his life? “They sound entertaining,” you offer, thinking of your own family. You wonder what yours is up to now, as you pass fields and factories that dot the side of the road. The familiar sights meant that you wouldn’t have much farther to drive. You can’t bring yourself to consider what might have become of your demon’s siblings.

“They are…” He stopped with a frustrated mumble, trying to choke out the words. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he snarled at his own patheticness, grateful you couldn’t see past the blanket covering his head. “They were all I had,” he finished so quietly you had to strain to hear him over the hum of the engine.

Your own heart ached at the bone-weary exhaustion in his voice. Part of you wanted to tear apart the earth until you found Sekido’s brothers, but you don’t know what they look like and you couldn’t bring yourself to make this man an empty promise. For now, you settled with being glad he was with you, and hoped he would tell you more about himself eventually. Though he had trouble getting the words out, talking seemed to help quell his nauseated stomach a little. “Thank you,” you said, “for sharing. It means a lot.” “Mmmn,” Sekido grumbled quietly. He was trying to act indifferent in an attempt to keep himself calm, but you thought you could feel his appreciation at the same time. Even if he didn’t show it in his stoic, angry face. “Just… drive,” he sighed. You allow yourself to smile as you watch the road in front of you. Sekido’s bossy attitude would be considered a good thing- it meant he might trust that he wouldn’t be hurt for it, and if that was the case then he was welcome to be as commanding as he wanted.

The car was silent for several minutes, except for Sekido’s uncomfortable shifting in the back seat. Then he let out a pained groan. You were already concerned about his awful wounds. You’d hoped they’d start healing, like demons usually do- like you’ve read they usually do, but now that you’re stopped at a traffic light and can finally turn to see him again, you can tell they’re just as inflamed as they were before you got Sekido into the car. Your eyebrows furrow when he releases a small whimper, holding his head with his elbows on his knees. What if… What if something terrible happened before you could get him to a doctor tomorrow? He was incredibly sick already, though the worst had been coming in waves. “Sekido?” He sat back, his head swaying dizzily while he looks at you. Sekido’s bleary gaze wanders aimlessly, unable to focus despite his heavy blinking. His face is pallid, like it’s been drained of blood. “... don’t feel good…”

You debated pulling over but didn’t despite your urge to tend to his distress. You don’t want to upset him more, and you were so close to home now anyway. He opened his mouth and you thought he might say something, but all he does is moan again through clenched teeth as he shudders and holds his stomach. “Sekido, are you okay?”

Drool drips from the corner of his panting mouth as his body wavers. You watch him anxiously. Sekido’s eyes go wide, and his chest heaves, spasms so harsh you can see it in the mirror.

And then he retches.

You can hear it splash on the floor, and your own stomach kicks. “Oh. Oh, God,” you say, one hand against your mouth, pulling over. You crack the window open. Sekido, sits up again with a hiccup, slumps his back against the seat with vomit dripping from his nose and sweat from his brow. Doesn’t have the strength to be disgusted with the bile covering his lips.

He said nothing- looked close to falling unconscious. Or worse, your fear told you. You still know nothing of demons except for what that website promoted, but… he really did look like he might be dying. Sekido’s hands tremble more. You’re trying not to vomit yourself from the smell, bitterly sour and somehow so much worse than the original scent of decay and dirt that had permeated the vehicle with him. You look glance at his wounds again, and the angry infected flesh around them as he falls over again and stays there. Reaching back, you gently pat his upper arm, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain up your own forearm. “Hey…” No response. “Sekido?” You shake him, an icy fear shooting settling in your chest. Something was wrong. “Hey!” Finally, he slaps your hand away with a whiney grunt. Something was very wrong. You shake your head. This demon cannot wait until tomorrow for a doctor. He needs one right now. You tap letters into your GPS system, then your face falls. The nearest 24-hour emergency veterinarian that takes demons is 3 towns away- that's over an hour drive!

Sekido pants something to himself, convulsing with a pitchy groan. His eyes squinted, rolling back as he huffed.

“Hey, you stay with me, okay?” You say with a pained smile and a firm squeeze on his arm. “I told you that you’d be okay, didn’t I? You gotta try to stay awake for me.” “...Tired,” Sekido grumbled quietly.

“Don’t sleep, Sekido. Don’t you dare.” ‘Don’t make me a liar’, you wanted to say. Couldn’t bear the thought of breaking your promise now. Couldn’t bear the thought of this man dying in the backseat of your car after everything.

Weren’t going to let that happen. Tires squealed, quickly turning the vehicle around. You hoped the streets would remain as empty as they have been. Prayed no cops were on the prowl tonight, as you take a deep breath and push your foot on the gas pedal.

Wind tears through your hair, howling as it passes in your race against time. Every second counted.

#pet au #sekido/reader #sekido and reader #hurt/comfort #kny sekido #demon slayer sekido #demon slayer pet au #arkwrites

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fallstreakfeathers · 6 months

Text

MORE Urogi Headcanons (+ molting)

(More) General Body HC’s

Has some downy feathers and contours on his chest that peak between his pectorals. They blend with his skin tone pretty well, but do lighten near the tips

Urogi has soft, long-shafted feathers on his upper legs, instead of furry hakama. They are most similar to an ostrich and Silkie chicken

The feathers on his thighs gradient up his lower back, eventually disappearing and leaving just his skin. They also gradient lowly on his hips, and up around his naval- covering and protecting his genitals. This is also why you can’t see his balls when he’s flying above you :)

Chicken-man is Naked. 100% naked. Except for the string of pearls he wears as a joke because Sekido complains about his nudeness.

His hair is actually feathers that lack barbicels (like a Silkie chicken, but much longer!). Very soft to touch.

Urogi’s feathers can raise or lower as his muscles flex, which has several functions. It also makes him look a bit like a Ghibli character since his ‘hair’ poofs when excited

The scales on his arms gradually give way to flesh. They don’t suddenly stop like a glove.

Has a little finger claw under his alula, like some chickens (or a hoatzin, without the terrible smell). You likely wouldn’t know unless you messed with his wings, though.

He does raise his feathers when he’s upset to appear bigger/more intimidating…not that an Upper Rank demon is ever NOT a bit frightening to be around

Though he dives a lot during battle, his wings are meant for passive soaring and he is quite slow unless he gets enough height first. He often soars high above the other clones to scout large areas. His vision is also incredible- not quite as powerful as a bird’s but close enough that nothing really escapes his sight. Has several calls to alert the other clones of what he sees, down to specifying between a single Demon Slayer or a group, or a wandering citizen. Sharp hearing, too. If he is high enough for a good stoop, you will not see or hear him coming. Always be vigilant if you hear a bird of prey calling in the night.

Molting HCs

Molting time is the most miserable you will EVER see him, especially if it’s a full molt

Itchy bird itchy bird itchy bird itch-

Molts approximately every 4-6 physical months (accumulatory/ the time he is in psychic-baby-jail doesn’t count) Full molts are rare and, obviously, affect him the worst

Useless in battle because he cannot fly, which he relies on, and his itching is extraordinarily distracting. Urogi is left at the hideout during this time.

Preens all the time (very prideful) but it is absolutely incessant when he molts. Almost compulsive.

This is the only time he wears any sort of undergarments and it’s really just a loincloth or something to cover his (now bare) arse, so Sekido stops complaining (Aizetsu complains too) about seeing their counterparts…sensitive bits. They also complain about how odd it looks.

Tends to hide away because he thinks he’s too ugly to look at when he’s missing so many feathers and it upsets him a lot. Doesn’t like the bald spots. Especially on his bum.

Does NOT like to be touched during this time, but simultaneously wants comfort and cuddles?? Cannot decide what he really wants. He’s even more restless than usual.

Easily irritated and can get territorial or aggressive. Has at one point been irate enough to attack Sekido. Unless Urogi comes to you, it’s honestly best to leave him alone for your own safety

His feathers grow back quite slow, especially compared to his ability to regenerate his limbs (his wings ALSO regenerate incredibly slowly. Having his wings sliced off is a huge deal to him! If you are fighting him, avoid cutting his wings because you will find that nothing you could possibly do will piss him off more… )

He was beginning a molt in his battle against Tanjiro

His wings have taken up to four days to fully regenerate with complete feathers after being sliced off. Feathers alone can take around a day and a half.

When he molts, he also loses the extra keratin on his scales along with the barb casings on his new feathers, so you’ll have a bunch of loose keratin all over the floor

Very hungry before and during the molt, needs a lot of protein. If knowing he’s eating more humans than usual bothers you, it’s best if you leave until the molt is over.

He will sleep more during the day, both because molting takes so much energy and to avoid how awful he feels

More vocal than usual during molts. Expect to hear a lot of frustrated squawking and even some tantrums. Try to have sympathy.

How to help (?):

Do NOT laugh at him! He’s already 5 kinds of miserable, already kind of self-conscious. He doesn’t need you making fun of him, even if he normally would laugh too. Assure him that he doesn’t look as bad as he thinks, even if it’s a complete lie.

On that note: try not to draw attention to anything particularly weird that he does to try to relieve his discomfort. Yes, it’s…concerning that he’s biting his own foot. Everyone is wondering why he’s chewing his talons like a mangy dog. Go about your business. Pretend not to see it.

Do NOT try to touch or help him unless he comes to you first. He is most irritable during molt and may snap or lash out at you unintentionally. He’ll apologize when he’s better, but an apology may not mean much when you have several inch-deep lacerations on your arm… However, if he wants cuddles, or for you to help him: do not refuse. He’s clingy (and bossier than usual) and he won’t hesitate to lay all his weight on you and pout until you agree to help.

Don’t pull hard on his feathers! A gentle brush with your hand is all that’s needed, and that way you don't pull any newly grown ones.

If you care about him at all, you will NOT pet his pin feathers against the grain. In fact, it’s probably a good idea not to touch his pins at all unless he says to- he would enjoy it if you would help gently release the feathers from the casing when they’re ready.

Definitely do not intentionally injure his pin feathers. It hurts, they will bleed profusely, and he isn’t likely to forgive it.

Warm baths are great for his itching- the itching, of course, is from dander, keratin flakes, and also the pin feathers coming through his skin.

Stop him from over-preening his new feathers, as he is liable to do in his effort to distract from his discomfort.

Get him a soft blanket that won’t catch on his pins; he’s probably a bit colder than he’ll tell you!

I hope you have a good broom because you’ll be sweeping daily, if not every couple hours. It is a mess, and he actually doesn’t enjoy walking or living in the aftermath of his molt.

His scales get itchy too as the keratin falls off, and he’ll want something to rub them against

Don’t be afraid to offer him some good moisturizing lotion for that.

Light spritzes of water also help if a bath is out of the question at the time.

Does not care that much if you happen to want to keep a feather he’s lost so feel free to snag some nice crafting stuff. Honestly it might make him feel better if you make something out of his loose feathers that you can wear- if you find yourself friends with him then it’d probably behoove you to wear his scent anyway- it will keep you safe from any lower rank demon with a functional brain :)

Praise him praise him praise him praise- Tell him how gorgeous he looks when it's over. He knows he’s pretty, but he wants to hear it from you, and he is going to show off regardless. Stroke his ego.

#arkwrites #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #hantengu #urogi #the prettiest man i ever did see <3 #please help him when he molts- everyone else is so mean to him :(#demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #posts that are barely edited

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