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your-lovely-rose · 4 months

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“They’re cute” (Daki, Mukago & Nakime || Request by @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme)

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mature

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Romance

➥ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: Fluff || Hurt/Comfort || Dark fic

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ±9.5k || +12.1k || ±15.8k

𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: 38 min. || 49 min. || 1h

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: (Ume) Daki // (Lower Rank 4) Mukago // (Biwa Demon) Nakime x Human!Reader

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: Kimetsu no Yaiba

⚠ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Minor death (suggested & mentioned), Eating people (mentioned)/dead bodies, Threats, Blood, Severe injuries on the body (not Reader), Misogyny, Desecration of a human corpse, Larvae and flies, Blood, Falling into madness, Mental problems, Muzan's goal (Spoiler for: Episode 34/Chapter 67), Presented the character's past (from "Kimetsu no Yaiba Official Fanbook: Kisatsutai Kenbunroku 2"), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining || NOT EDITED

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Before each story, I have included words that may cause readers difficulty. I tried to explain them in text, but if after reading something is still unclear then look there. I hope I've done good research and haven't misunderstood anything - if you have more knowledge on the subject, please correct me.

➵ “They’re cute” Part 2/2 (Nakime)

> (Ume) Daki Masterlist

> Mukago Masterlist

➻ Little dictionary:

Yūjo (遊女, lit. "Woman of pleasure") - common prostitutes, they could be found in brothels (hamirase).

Harimise (張見) - a kind of brothel, where sex workers lined up behind bars around 6 p.m. to attract potential customers.

Oiran (花魁, lit. "Leading flower" or "First flower", comes from the Japanese phrase: Oira no tokoro no nēsan (おいらの所の姉さん) which translates into "My elder sister") - is a collective term for the highest-ranking courtesans/prostitutes in Japanese. Unlike yūjo, in addition to their sexual services, they were artists and were expected to provide entertainment. They were highly skilled in the playing koto, shakuhachi, tsuzumi and shamisen (traditional Japanese instruments), igo (traditional Japanese board game), dance and poetry. They also had to learn from an early age classic Japanese, calligraphy, flower arranging (ikebana or kadō) and the tea ceremony (chadō). In addition, clients expected them to be knowledgeable in scholarly matters, and so it was essential that courtesans had the abilities to carry witty and intelligent conversation and write eloquently. Their art and fashions often set trends among the wealthy and, because of this, cultural aspects of oiran traditions continue to be preserved to this day.

Oiran dōchū (花魁道中, おいらん道中) - the impressive procession with which the oiran moved, surrounded by all the entourage and servants from their seirō. Example of oiran dōchū.

Maiko (舞妓) - is a young apprentice geisha in Kyoto. The equivalent of maiko in Tokyo is hangyoku.

Okāsan (お母さん, lit. "Mother") - that's how the courtesans called the owners of the brothels.

Seirō (青楼, "Green Houses") - refers to the yūkaku licensed pleasure quarters - specifically Yoshiwara. The place where they lived. The term seirō originated in Chinese to denote a pavilion in which a nobleman kept a mistress.

Chaya (茶屋, "Tea house") - oiran place to meet clients and work. To call an oiran, the customer must use a tea house as a mediator, but not just only ask the tea house, they had to spend a lot of money there beforehand. They had to prove that they had enough money and power to play with the oiran. Then, they had the right to call for an oiran.

Kanzashi (簪) - are hair ornaments used in traditional Japanese hairstyles. The term kanzashi refers to a wide variety of accessories, including long, rigid hairpins, barrettes, fabric flowers and fabric hair ties. // Hana-kanzashi - are ornaments usually in the shape of flowers worn by maiko. Each month is assigned a different theme.

Kusudama (薬玉) - spherical ornament made of, among others, artificial flowers or paper (e.g. origami method). Sometimes long colored ribbons or threads are attached to it from the bottom. In ancient Japan, a kusudama was a bag filled with scented substances designed to scare away evil spirits and demons, mainly during the annual "Children's Festival" (Tango no Sekku or Ayame no Hi (Iris Festival)) on May 5. Today, this decoration is used during various ceremonies, such as the opening of a new store or restaurant. Sometimes it serves as a gift. Kusudamas is considered a precursor of modular origami.

Futon (布団) - traditional japanese bedding. It consists of a mattress (shiki-buton) and a duvet (kake-buton). Futons after taking out for the night from the wall cabinet (oshiire) are laid on tatami. After they are rolled up and put in the wardrobe in the morning, you gain free space in the room for the day, which can be used for other purposes.

Tatami (畳) - is a type of mat used as a flooring material in traditional Japanese-style rooms. Because of the fact that they aren't cleaned, you cannot step on them with shoes/dirty feet.

Shōji (障子, しょうじ) - is a door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame. Shōji usually slide, but may occasionally be hung or hinged, especially in more rustic styles.

Kimono (着物, きもの, lit. "thing to wear") - is a traditional Japanese garment. The kimono is a wrapped-front garment with square sleeves and a rectangular body, and is worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased. Oiran wore multiple layers of silk kimono and her outfit sometimes weighed 20-30 kg (44-66 lb).

Genre: Romance || Fluff

Word count and reading time: ±9.5k (38 min.)

⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death (suggested), Eating people (mentioned), Threats, Misogyny, Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining,

Numerous lantern lights illuminated the streets of Yoshiwara revealing to many people a new face of Tokyo - which, because of their bright red color, was often called the Red Light District.

For some, it might have been associated with big, ripe fruit on the trees or the sunset after a beautiful day, but for you, it was associated with a woman’s red lipstick.

In the air there was a strong smell of various dishes and spices that could make you dizzy, as well as brewed green tea from chaya. The night was filled with the sounds of shamisen played by geisha for their audience in okiya, where all sorts of people gathered to rest with their charms, watching them dance, but you didn’t count among them.

Walking down a street full of harimise - brothels with a view inside through the bars, where a lots of prostitutes yūjo were sitting and urging you to visit them by their beautiful looks - and some shops, your eye hung on the colorful paper windmills and various richly decorated hair ornaments exhibited at the stalls.

Since it was still February you could mostly see the hana-kanzashi depicting plum blossoms for maiko. They were meant to remind us of the imminent arrival of spring and were replaced in March into bright yellow flowers of rapeseed and daffodil, pink peonies and peach flowers, as well as multicolored, delightful butterflies, when their true counterparts bloomed on the trees.

All the ornaments were shimmered from the metals they were made of. From gold and silver for the nobles, and brass for the common people. There were kanzashi with one spool, two; in the shape of combs, and many of them had red-pink petals attached to them. From a distance, they looked so real and fragile.

There were also those with white kusudama balls in different origami patterns giving off a strong, floral scent of perfume. To them below were attached long ribbons and threads blowing freely in the wind.

For a moment, you were wondering if you should buy something for her, but you immediately remembered that you have little more just to meet her.

Besides, she had much nicer ornaments and none of them matched her beauty. She was like a rare flower.

And she’s not a child anymore, she would probably laugh at a cheap toy.

“Are you buying something or..?” asked the fat salesman, looking at you in surprise. He’d never seen anyone who look at a piece of colored paper and a stick with such a dreamful and wide smile on face.

“Um, n-no.”

Getting caught watching toys for too long with embarrassment and a slight blush, you put it back. The man just shook his head with a slight laugh.

“Ah, love!” he said aloud with understanding. “Love… it does strange things to people,” he added after a moment of reflection, turning his back to you and waving his hand, but you didn’t see it because you walked away from his booth in embarrassment.

Love?

Do you love her?

Yes, you enjoyed spending time with her and talking to her, but would you call it love?

At the very thought, your cheeks became warmer and butterflies appeared in your stomach, causing a pleasant tickling in your gut…

After a moment’s reflection, you would admit that you might like her a little more than normal.

But you know you didn’t call it love - or rather, you both wouldn’t admit it. Besides, this relationship would never stand a chance, and it’s not just because of her profession…

When you finally stood in front of the tea house affiliated with Kyogoku House, you checked your clothes to see if they looked good and you smoothed your hair, which was messy by the cool, night wind.

Thinking you looked decent, you walked into the lobby and caught the eye of all the people there. As always, you politely greeted the owner of this place sitting at a low table and two hosts from the aforementioned house, sipping tea together.

You were a little surprised to see them - normally they should be in their house and a lobbygow from the chaya would bring them your request to meet after a short time. Then they would deliver your letter to Warabihime, and she would reply by other messenger boy.

Oiran can’t contact any of their clients directly, nor can they contact her - custom didn’t allow it, so you all had to use lobbygow. It was a long process, but you didn’t regret any moment or a coin spent on it.

Also, you couldn’t meet her whenever you wanted - you had to first ask her permission (in a letter) and wait for her answer. She could always disagree. It was the oiran, who decided if they wanted to take the client, not you or anybody else.

But she’s never said no to you. And the attitude of the hosts to you after a short time from satisfaction turned into concern.

Regardless of that, with a polite smile and a bow, holding a letter asking for a meeting in both hands, you handed it to them.

So far, you’ve been her longest-lived client… and her only one - after a few meetings with you, she started automatically refusing other people who wanted to see her.

The host’s wife, a woman named Omitsu, more than once felt anxious going to the demon’s room to deliver a handful of letters, all of which would soon end up shattered on tatami.

She looked at her with irritation written on her face as if she were a disgusting insect and tilted her head slightly to the right in her characteristic manner.

It never bode well…

- - -

When Daki’s patience ran out, she threatened Omitsu, that the next thing she’d tear apart would be her guts, if she brought more letters not from you.

What happened between the two of you during those meetings? Did you put a spell on her? Or is she the one who has some evil plans for you? The owner of Kyogoku House didn’t know and was becoming more and more disturbed about it.

Not feeling right under constant stress, she ordered one of the newly arrived girls to carry the long-awaited letter from you, and the other to massage her shoulders. Warabihime only made her still worry and added her gray hair.

“I will do it, Okāsan,” offered Hinatsuru, because she was nearby and the other workers were too scared.

With a kind smile on her painted lips, she took the letter and went upstairs to the woman’s room, feeling the grateful gaze of the rest of the girls on her back. She could hear their whispers full of concern and questions like: “Will she be okay?”

She saw that something was up - she had been here for a while and had been keeping a close eye on all the Kyogoku House employees. So far, there’s nothing she could do except to not accidentally alert demon about her.

As she walked slowly through the corridors, she read the sender’s name and memorized it so she could tell Tengen if anything happened - the main Oiran was her most likely target, and it is necessary to gather as much information as possible to fight the enemy.

Who were you? One of the demons? A man helping her keep up appearances? Or did you know nothing about her true nature? Can a demon love? Was she really a demon? Or maybe a hunch confounded her?

But even she felt the terror beating from this room and the creature hiding in it. As she approached, she felt like a prey going to a predator for slaughter.

Even the most beautiful purebred cat won’t deny its nature and stop hunting mice.

She knocked and waited for a moment for an answer. Inside, she saw the beautiful Warabihime sitting by the mirror, whom she had already seen several times strolling down the hallway or looking at her from the balcony - she watched as she went with the whole long retinue of dōchū to the tea house to meet her client.

[Frist Name] [Last Name].

She always walked with her head held high and proud, as if everything around her belonged to her. Probably her position allowed her to do a lot, but in the same way, being an oiran meant limitations. Pretending to be human, too.

For Hinatsuru, one small evidence was enough. Any proof. Just enough not to report to Lord Tengen only her unconfirmed hunches.

She wished, she knew how the work for Suma and Makio was going. Maybe if she had better contact with them, she could figure something out. But if the demon noticed or suspected something, they could easily die.

Without even looking at her, Warabihime asked what she wanted while was correcting a red lipstick applied to her lower lip with her little finger. She looked perfect, just like a porcelain doll or a moon goddess. Pale skin untainted by any scar reflected the light of candles giving her a phenomenal appearance - even in incomplete makeup and without ornaments in the hair no one could deny her beauty.

“Okāsan told me to bring you this.”

Hinatsuru pulled a letter from the purple-white kimono hidden in her sleeve and waved it lightly in the air.

She saw the woman suddenly stop in her activity and focus her gaze in reflection on the rolled paper.

“Put it on the table and leave.”

She tried to pretend not to be very interested, but as soon as the paper door shōji closed behind the new oiran, Daki was next to the letter in a second. The rush of air dropped several layers of kimono, ruining the outfit she had just worn, but she didn’t care. Up close, your scent was even more intense, filling her lungs. It was like an aphrodisiac to her.

“Why are you so excited?” Gyutaro asked, scratching his cheek and standing over his younger sister.

He stared on her with letter in hand with a deep frown on his face, not understanding her. He recognized your handwriting, and while it was clear that you were trying to write nicely, it didn’t hide your unskilled hand and your lack of talent for calligraphy.

He had felt a change in the girl for some time and could see how she reacted to the very mention about [Last Name].

When other women even mentioned your name, she’d instinctively keep an ear out to catch as much of the conversation as possible or she’d stand nearby to listen for a while, although when he asked, she’d always deny it.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be happy she found a new toy or worry more. Ever since she started meeting you, she’s become… softer.

Messy.

Defenceless.

He would even dare to say dreamy. Her thoughts wandered unconsciously all the time and were always focused only on you. You were the culmination of her every thought. What did you do? How did you feel? Have you had a rough day? Are you going to meet her today? Is… is there anyone else?

She was no longer thinking about her previous priorities or gaining strength. It began to irritate him and frustrate him. So much, so that to get away from her thoughts of you, he began to leave her body more often. He couldn’t bear to see your smiling face engraved on her mind like a burn scar.

Daki, unaware of how great his dislike for you was, only turned her head to her brother, looking at him with joy hidden in green irises and a broad, but sincere and kind smile - he asked nothing more.

�� • •

Did you know her brother? Yes, although at first he was a passive observer through Daki’s eyes for most of your meetings.

Personally, he thought his sister deserved someone better, 'cause you were really average-looking. He wouldn’t say you were ugly like him or above average beautiful like one person with colorful, rainbow eyes…

But he’d still judge you as a mediocre, who doesn’t stand out in the crowd. You were just average. Ordinary. If he walked past you, it’s very likely he wouldn’t normally noticed or pay attention to you.

That’s why he wasn’t annoyed by your looks, but he was jealous of your talk. You talked freely to his sister and often made her laugh. You’ve probably misled more than one girl with that kind of talk.

The thought provoked an anger that even Daki felt. She silenced him in her thoughts and tried to pretend that everything was all right, but she felt under her skin how her brother’s emotions filled her and how they crawled under her skin like little worms spreading all over her body. His anger was like an unquenchable fire, and he made her feel hot. Soon after, she felt the sweat run down her exposed neck and asked you to open the window.

The cool air from the streets of Yoshiwara was like a deliverance to her, though it didn’t put out the fire inside. She didn’t understand him. Where did this anger suddenly come from in him?

To calm him, she grabbed her hand and squeezed the garment more tightly with the other. That didn’t help. She could barely contain her own trembling and keep a cheerful smile on her face, although she was also beginning to get angry.

But her anger wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at him.

Oh, how much she’d want him to sleep through that meeting with you, like he used to.

Fearing that something would happen to you, she ended the meeting sooner than she wanted and slowly returned to Kyogoku House. People watched her colourful procession of many, both male and female employees from her seirō, but she was the only one who stole everyone’s attention - she was like a diamond. Beautiful flower among weeds and grasses. Although she usually liked the attention she received, today it was unbearably annoying to her.

Her perfectly smooth forehead was flawed by the folds created by her tightly furrowed thin eyebrows.

She tried not to step out of her role and moved with a slow dance step towards her present place of residence, although she could easily get there within seconds even on her black high-soled geta.

After she returned to her seirō and locked in her room, they even quarreled over it all. Very seriously and rough. Although it took place without much damage to the furniture, several other girls said they heard an unknown male voice from her room. Some thought it was just her throat torn from Warabihime’s (no one knew her name except her brother and later you too) screams and it was still her voice, other say that she was insane or possessed by evil spirits.

To avoid do something he might regret later, Gyutaro went outside while the night was still young.

He wandered through side and dark streets killing drunks and couples, looking for some privacy to pick on them and release the accumulated negative emotions, but nothing could improve his mood.

Anger flowed through his veins under his skin, triggering an increasingly strong desire to scratch himself, and he gave in to it (not that he resisted much). He do it so hard that blood started dripping down his forehead and clavicle - he didn’t care about it because he’d regenerate in no time.

Then among the sounds of people walking in the streets, the roar of machines, and the sound of his rough skin torn by his black fingernails, he heard your voice. He looked out of the alley with curiosity and saw you walking in the company of a black-haired man.

You talked to him about something gesticulating vigorously, although the conversation itself didn’t interest him. Seeing your movements and hearing the annoying voice, an idea popped into his head - if you give him reason by which you could make his sister sad, he’ll kill you.

The thought brought a wide, menacing smile to his face, revealing sharp teeth and capable of shivering the body of more than one experienced Demon Slayer.

He knew Daki would be angry, but you were the reason for their argument and his sour mood right now. He felt like with your disappearance, so would his current problems.

The rest of the night he followed you jumping on the rooftops of buildings and listening to what you were talking about - despite his dislike for you, he even laughed a few times at your remarks and comments. He also found out that the man in the brown kimono and tied hair is your close friend Kaito.

• • •

It’s been a few days since he started following you and got to know you better - he already knew how you make a living and what your routine looks like. During the day he hid from the sun in a nearby house (whose owners suddenly disappeared under unexplained circumstances) and waited for dark to fall, when he could again follow you like a watchdog.

He didn’t even notice when all the hatred for you burned out inside him like an old bonfire, leaving nothing but smoking residue.

He was no longer actively looking for faults in you, and followed you more out of habit and curiosity. But he still had mixed feelings for you - maybe not as negative as at first.

Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone (even to himself).

Your friend would show up at your place sometimes with a carriage full of stuff, and sometimes you’d go out with him for drinks at a cheap bar nearby. It was a good opportunity to see what you thought of his sister.

Was she just one of many women for you to play with? Have you been seeing anyone besides her? Did you really respect her? What are you saying about her behind her back?

Thoughts like this popped into his head, but he wasn’t worried about hearing something bad from you about her.

But the words of a drunk are the thoughts of a sober, and with that thought he put his ears to hear you better, when your friend dragged you home. He hasn’t drink to much, because of the experience he’s had with you.

“Ahh, I want to go to Warabihime!” You were whining and trying to get away from your friend. It was a poor attempt, but it was difficult for the demon to judge whether it was alcohol or you were always so weak.

“You’ve been here last time and you don’t have money to meet now. Besides, you have to get permission first,” the black-haired man admonished you, tired of your drunken self.

“No, I wanna now! Let me goooo.”

“If you want to go to prostitutes go to some cheaper yūjo. There are a lot of them in harimise. No one will even know.”

Kaito casually offered knowing the rules of the pleasure district - after all, he used their services not so long time ago.

If oiran chose you as her client after three (very expensive) meetings, during which you tried to convince her that you were worthy of her, you couldn’t use the services of other women. Especially some cheap prostitute or some other oiran - it would be an insult to her, and although you know perfectly well that she would probably never know about it, you couldn’t look her in the face afterwards.

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t. I want to go to Warabihime!”

You still whined like a baby, but no one paid attention. You’ve already moved far away from the Entertainment District. You were surrounded only by low family houses and dark streets lit only by the light of a full moon watching you silently from above. He wasn’t the only one, although the other observer showed more interest, hiding yourself in the shadow.

“Is she really that good?” asked older man without even looking at you and suddenly got hit on the head by you.

The hit wasn’t strong, but it was painful enough that he suddenly let you go and you fell flat to the ground. The scene surprised Gyutaro so much that he stopped breathing, and he might even laugh, if he wasn’t shock of your reaction.

“What was that?!” Kaito asked, screaming in anger.

If it wasn’t for the sake circulating in your veins and spinning in your head, you could see the veins coming out of his forehead and his tightly clenched fists tremble. Your friend hated being insulted. Even as a joke, and now you’re overreacting.

“What was that supposed to be? What’s gotten into you? Are you… A-ah,” he said after a moment understanding and laughed unexpectedly. He didn’t expect that from you. Especially from you.

Yes, he was still angry, but he knew what oiran and other women of her type were like - they said many beautiful words and promised even more just to keep a well-paid client. Their living piggy banks. And you’ve obviously fallen for it more than he thought.

Not long ago he had been dating one, but when the first enchantment had passed he saw how much he had been deceived and trifled. No one has ever humiliated and ridiculed him like that woman had.

To this day, he can still smell her perfume reminiscent of peaches and kept the letters he couldn’t burn. He tried not to get drunk because of you, to walk you home safely, although he would love to do it.

He’d like to keep his mind off the time he was seeing her. To those brightly colored and sunny times with sweet feelings like her lips, and yet… fake.

He would like to forget her unique hair color, looking like the sun and and the deep black of the night at the same time. Throw out a strand of golden curls from her bangs. Forget her loud laugh and her sometimes out of control temperament, which he loved so much. Forget about these light brown eyes, which never looked at him with affection.

Every gesture she made was taught by years of practice, and every sweet word devoid of feeling - she was like an empty porcelain doll, and he found out too late. He always thought she was thinking about someone else, when she was with him.

He learned that she was playing with him by chance, when he heard another drunk man telling about his oiran’s great love for him and showing her letters for proof. Kaito would always recognize the scent of her perfume and her writing style.

However, he hoped it was a mistake and went to Ogimoto House to listen to other women’s gossip. All he had to do was stand by the window and he could have found out everything. The sound of their laughter and mockery directed at him hurt him. Those kind night ladies voices said such bad things about him that he just wanted to curl up and die in shame.

From that day on, he never returned to tea house.

But sometimes he stood near her balcony, when unconsciously his legs led him again towards Ogimoto House, and he would looking with longing and chest pain.

Against his will, he waited for her to see her feisty face with sharp features and small cute nose or silky hair again.

He saw a black crow come to her every now and then, and she’d pick up a letter attached to its leg. She then unfolded the red kimono and hid a piece of paper under it - he could only guess how close it was to her heart and who her lover was…

Sometimes, however, it was she who secretly sent the letter, plunging Kaito even more into dark despair.

Was he angry? Of course, he was. Even mad, but he couldn’t stop loving Makio either.

“All right, it’s fine,” he helped you get up and cleared your clothes. He understood what a wonderful feeling it was to love and be loved, but some of the flowers that grew from the seeds of that love were… poisonous. “Come home and get some sleep.”

Kaito helped you get undressed and put you in a futon. Your grey kimono (not so official, worn only because you didn’t mind destroying or staining it) he cleaned out the sand and dust of the street. The man decided open the window for you, so you could sleep better and the air in the room wouldn’t get stale from your stinking breath.

He was your good friend, but he treated you like you were his younger sibling (although you two were almost the same age). He was also your business partner - he would bring in goods from the far reaches of Japan, and you would sell it on the busy streets.

When Kaito left you had a strange dream - you dreamed that a skinny, grotesque figure stood over you like one of worst nightmares.

His morbidly yellow eyes stared straight at you through a veil of fat, dark green hair, piercing you through like daggers.

Even though you were tucked under a duvet and covered with a blanket to keep you warm, you felt like you were instantly getting cold - probably through an open window (through which the stranger must have entered) illuminating his monstrous face.

He looked like Death or a being closely related to it - did he come for your soul? Maybe he was just a seriously ill homeless man looking for shelter on a cold night?

The stranger was looking at you with a mysterious grin on his face like he wasn’t satisfied with something and was wondering about something at the same time. You felt like a disgusting insect under his judgmental gaze. The man scratched himself on the gray skin on his cheek, causing a rough chill on your back.

Scratch, scratch, scratch echoed across the room when you looked at each other in silence.

For a moment, the thought crossed your drunken mind, that you might be able to fall asleep when your eyelids became too heavy to keep them open, but then the he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“You annoy and irritate me,” his voice was loud in the quiet room like the sound of a bell. “But for some reason I can’t hate you.”

The gray creature leaned over you so that your noses almost touched.

The strands of his bangs tickled your forehead and a piece of loose material hanging around his neck fell on your covered chest. You could smell his bad breath stinking like rotten flesh and blood.

“But if you hurt my sister, I’ll kill you.”

The threatening words sounded like a promise he was determined to keep. Although you had no idea how you’d know his sister.

Still, you picked up something in his voice that made you think he didn’t want to do it. As a trader, you had to be able to read your customers, and that’s why you knew who wanted what, when they were hiding something and when they were honest with you.

That’s why you knew Warabihime was completely honest with you about her behavior, although sometimes she seems to want to show you more than she can. Something keeps her from telling you about her worry, that makes her seem depressed sometimes and she masks it with a gentle smile.

You never asked about that because you didn’t want to spoil the atmosphere and lead to unpleasant situations between you two.

After the man’s words, you were able to sleep. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol circulating in your body or the fear helped you, but when you woke up next day, you almost forgot the night guest. A slight throbbing of your head in the morning and a dry mouth only helped you remember what you were doing early in the evening with Kaito. You remembered the rest when you sat on the futon and saw a huddled figure in the corner of the room.

He squatted with his elbows on his thighs and his fingers touching the floor between his legs. He was so crooked that just looking at him made your back hurt. You didn’t believe he was comfortable like that. You regretted that only piece of his wardrobe was baggy navy trousers and red pieces of fabric loosely tied around his shoulders - seeing his extremely skinny body and morbidly gray-green skin, you had another headache again and you were getting nauseous, which you somehow stopped with a stone face.

The creature looked at you with boredom as if you were an unexpected and even more unwanted guest than the other way around - he didn’t budge or even blink like a grotesque sculpture.

He reminded you of Kaito’s stories of horrible, ugly, stone figures placed on the rooftops of many temples and cathedrals in faraway lands that he’d heard from other people - whether it’s tourists or foreign traders. They called them chimeras or gargoyles, depending on their function.

Was he a product of your mind as a sign to stop drinking?

“Are you finally get up?”

He asked, interrupting the silence and tilting his head slightly in a way familiar to you, but all you could do was nod your head and issue from a clenched throat quietly “Uh”.

You noticed that the window was closed now by wooden shutters and he was sitting under the wall adjacent to it as far away from it as possible.

“Don’t you have work today?”

You swallowed your saliva and nodded your head again. Feeling like an unwanted pest in your own home, you got up and folded the sheets. You put it on the other side of the room (under the window) and moved into the kitchen feeling behind you the watchful gaze of the bulging eyes and the menacing aura of your guest.

You entered the kitchen (the largest room in the house), where you had a low table and a stone stove, but you didn’t use it. An iron kettle for boiling water you set over a small fire. You remember when you dug a hole by yourself and then you covered it with bricks for safety. You liked to use it.

When you looked back, you saw a caricature of a man standing at the entrance to the room, still hidden in the shadows. He watched you from semi closed eyelids with boredom.

Does he have a skin condition? Can the sun hurt him? Is he afraid? Or maybe, like a vampire, you have to invite him?

A distant memory flashed through your head - how, as a little kid, you overheard a conversation among adults about bloodthirsty creatures turning to dust while they were standing in the sunlight. At that time they told you to leave then so as not to scare you, but curiosity was stronger.

Why do you suddenly remember that after all these years?

You shook your head and closed the shutters. To make sure the wind wouldn’t open them, you pulled the metal lock too for safety.

The room was semi-darkness.

Why did you do that?

Just to avoid a worse headache, and he decided to take advantage of it by walking into the kitchen.

Close up, when his position didn’t hide too much from you so you could see how bad he was - appearing rough and sickly skin was marked by numerous black marks, and the abdomen was practically concave. There were also bony hips protruding from behind the his material trousers, and you could describe him as a living skeleton, although he had heavily scratched muscle tissue gathered around his shoulders.

You placed two small clay tea cups on the table (remembering that you still had some medicinal herbs left for a hangover) and caused a mischievous smile on your comrade’s face as if you had done something stupid.

Yet he sat beside you at the table with his legs crossed and watched in silence as you ate a piece of dry meat with buttered bread. You weren’t sure how you were able to swallow when his constant gaze on you made your throat clenched itself. He didn’t even blink.

You paid him back with the same, but you couldn’t stand it for a long time and you started looking into the space above him. When you looked at him, you felt some kind of regret that made you offer him a piece of meat in your hand.

With this you caused him a loud burst of laughter, from which you jumped up in your seat. You amused him so much that he closed his eyelids and covered his mouth full of sharp yellow teeth with one hand, and he started hitting his knee with the other.

You didn’t know what was funny about it, so you just sat in front of him with a disconcerting face and with your hand still out holding a piece of meat pointing at him, but now you felt like an animal who had done a trick.

Gyutaro amused the absurdity of the situation and this irony, as you, a human - practically defenseless against him and unaware of his initial intentions (he still judging you) offer him, the demon, who has killed hundreds of people, a piece of food. If he was hungry, you’d be the first course on his menu.

When he calmed down a little, the broad smile still didn’t come off his face revealing his big teeth and made small wrinkles near his eyes showing how cheerful he was now.

You had a shiver for a moment, but you decided not to show it. If he isn’t a vision of your sleepy mind induced by alcohol, then it was better not to provoke him and didn’t let him know you’re afraid of him.

The stranger, feeling comfortable enough with you, lay down on the floor on his left side and resting his head on his fists, watched your morning routine without moving.

When you went to the other room to pick up some clothes (your house had only three rooms, one of which was a storage room) he just turned his head towards you and again returning to his previous, bored posture.

Even though he wasn’t physically moving, his eyes followed you, tracking your every move.

Then you also had to set up your wooden stall and load the goods on it. Unfortunately, your mare died a few months ago and you had to pull the carriage on wheels to the nearest town. If it weren’t for your expensive encounters with Warabihime, you could probably buy another horse sooner…

Actually, you were planning on taking the day off, but your unexpected visitor made you not want to stay home.

When you came back late in the evening, the only sign of him was the untouched clay cup of cold tea that you put in front of him.

For a moment, you really believed it was just a hallucination, but he came back after a few days.

• • •

You came home again at night after another day’s work in a remote city and he was already waiting for you inside. When you closed the door behind you, cutting yourself off from the sound of crickets in the nearby fields, you heard a quiet, characteristic for him scratch, scratch, scratch carring over a small building. You didn’t have time to escape to the street because he showed up right next to you.

There were several deep wounds on the right side of his face caused by his nervous scratching. Seeing you seemed to upset him even more because his movements got even more intense.

“Ne, ne, where have you been? Why don’t you come to her?”

Completely surprised by his sudden appearance, you took your breath away and all you could do was just stupidly open and close your mouth like a fish pulled out of the water. It was probably the first time, when you didn’t know what to say.

“Daki is impatient. She’s been waiting long enough for you.”

The man said that with a grudge against you. He was mad at you for not trying harder and making his pretty sister angry.

“Who… Who is Daki?”

You only managed to mouthed through a clenched throat as the monster in your kitchen continued to scratch nervously. He paused for a moment, reminding himself that you didn’t know everything yet, so he just said:

“Warabihime.”

Her name made your heart beat a little faster and you started to wonder how much you really know about her? Why did he call her Daki? How much does she have to do with him and who is he?

But before you could ask him anything, he threw you on his shoulder. Afraid he would drop you (or roll over with you), you propped on his bony back, but he had a surprisingly strong grip for someone looking so hungry.

Holding you with one hand, he went out in front of your house, jumped high and landed on the roof of a nearby building. It happened so fast that you only felt a sudden rush of cold air and could see your wooden geta fall down where you were just now.

Surprised and even more frightened, you clung tighter to a man, who seemed to mock your fear. You could have sworn that for a brief moment before he ran on the rooftops toward the bright Yoshiwara District you could see a smile on his face.

The fact that he only held you with one hand didn’t help you calm down at all.

A few minutes later, you were facing your black-haired oiran at Kyogoku House. It was the first time you had been in her seirō - you had always only met in tea house, but you didn’t have a nerve now to look around the room.

She sat in front of you proudly like a princess on a tatami dressed in a beautiful, silk, white kimono with a broad smile on her painted lips and a joy dancing in her bright eyes. She seemed even more radiant with affection, when she saw you.

Unusually, she was dressed more skimpily than usual - when her clothes opened you saw that instead of many other colorful layers of attire she was wearing only pink and black, lace panties and a wide obi of a similar color in a floral pattern tied around her slim belly. Her breasts were covered only by two straps of black material held by the belt, and her long, slender legs were dressed in stockings to match her underwear.

The man who brought you here unceremoniously dropped you off his shoulder on the floor and looked at you as if you were his new problem.

You jumped with your gaze from a figure standing above you to a woman sitting nearby without knowing what to do or why they brought you here.

Finally, the green-skinned man turned on his heel and walked toward the window you just came through, saying:

“I think you two have a little talk to do.”

And he jumped outside. He expected you to be too embarrassed to talk to Daki when he was around (although he was there all the time during your previous meetings, not that you knew about it) and he wanted her to explain this all to you.

You certainly had a ton of questions, and whether you survive afterwards will depend only on you.

Gyutaro crouched over the open window listening attentively to every word. His hand instinctively found its way to his skinny clavicle and began to unconsciously scratch it to relieve the stress.

After a long and, it would seem, difficult conversation for both of you, there was finally a deaf silence. He wondered for a moment if she killed you and if he could come back now. Then you spoke again. You were insecure and nervous - he could tell from your voice, but you surprised him again.

You wanted to try and keep seeing her. Despite knowing they’re both bloodthirsty demons eating your kind.

Gyutaro couldn’t take much time to think about your decision because he saw the black ink sky slowly change to a bright blue and red-orange flashes of the sun appear on the horizon, reminiscent of lanterns hanging in the Entertainment District.

Suddenly interrupting for you two, he went inside and kidnapped you again (despite his sister’s protests) jumping out with you to the street - he didn’t have much time and because you lost your shoes earlier, he couldn’t just leave you there. He knew Daki would be even more upset with him.

- - -

You were at the entrance of your house in just a few minutes. He stopped on the roof and grabbed you tight under the armpits. Your [Hair Color] hair was blowing in every possible direction by the wind and your head was spinning slightly like you were drunk again.

He bowed his head slightly and the orange sky looked like hellish flames behind him. He looked at you from behind his black-green hair, narrowing his menacingly yellow eyes.

“Do you have any idea what will happen if you ever cheat on her?”

Already less intimidated by his appearance, you nodded and said loudly, “You’re going to kill me!” and he slightly tilted his head as if you were irritating his ears.

“At least you’re smart.”

After these words, he let you fall on the gravel road outside your door. You moaned from the pain of a beaten ass, but you didn’t break anything - fortunately the height was too low for that.

Gyutaro watched for a moment as you lay before he disappeared behind the edge of the roof and rushed back to Kyogoku House. You didn’t know why he didn’t stay with you if he’d been there before… unless he was bothered by being with you all day.

Before any of your neighbors could see you, you got up with difficulty and took the geta that had been left on the street. Maybe someday you’ll find another…

You looked over the buildings thinking you’d see a big dark figure running over them, but he was gone, and you still had in your head nervous voice Warabi– … No, it’s Daki.

She told you her real name and what she was. She told you about her older brother and their history. She didn’t plan to hide anything from you from now on and exposed herself to you more than to anyone else.

Many had seen her attractive, firm body hidden under many layers of silk, but no one had yet known her heart.

Could you ignore something like that?

• • •

And you tried to come more often anyway. You couldn’t break your routine, but sometimes she was so impatient that she would even give you money, so you could get there early. Of course, it would have been easier if she intimidated the homeowners, Omitsu and her husband into letting you meet whenever you wanted, but you forbade her.

You could understand eating people, you would be a hypocrite to condemn her for eating the only food she could when you ate beef, veal, chicken and fish, when you were hungry. So that you could live on your own, you ate the flesh of other beings like many other species, and the fact that demons could only eat human was not her fault.

But you couldn’t tolerate, much less accept, terrorizing others so that only for you could meet. You could never accept senseless bloodshed or hurting and scaring others.

Your first face-to-face meeting was two weeks later, and it was the first time you were with all two of them. Gyutaro was ready to go out and hide somewhere not to disturb you, but you stopped him. You didn’t feel embarrassed or disgusted by him, although when you first saw him, he terrified you.

“Huh?” he murmured and his hand raised to scratch his neck. He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and amazement, and Daki felt a pleasant warmth pouring into her interior. So far, only two people have been kind to her brother.

If it wasn’t for her full makeup, you might see her cheeks blushing with delight. She slightly opened her lips in surprise, and her eyes glazed in the light of candles - she looked like a child at the sight of an unexpected, dream gift.

The man looked at his sister to see if she was okay with it and, not seeing any objection, sat down, but still keeping his distance. As time went on, he began to sit closer and closer to you.

You didn’t always just talk - sometimes Daki played koto or shamisen, that already were in the tea house or you played a board game Go.

• • •

Gyutaro finally fully understood why she was so angry when he came back from his long absence smelling like blood and you.

At first she was just angry with him for leaving her alone and even tried to look for him (without success), but when she smelled your strong smell from him she feared the worst. This led to another fight, and this time she didn’t pay attention to the furniture or the appearance of pretending to be a human being.

Frightened Omitsu told all the girls to stay away from her room hearing the sound of broken wood and her screams.

Hinatsuru then became more suspicious of the demon’s identity, but she was unable to send Kasugai crow to Tengen with her suspicions. She had to wait for her, and due to the increased demon activity in the city, she might have been caught. It wouldn’t be hard for a strong demon to kill a bird and then her.

She couldn’t have made a mistake. And she needed a real proof so she wouldn’t accidentally bewray herself by pointing out the wrong person.

• • •

Honestly, you were doing pretty good right now. Your insistence on stil making appearances all the time irritated Daki, who, if she could, would see you every day. Her brother supported you, although on the other hand, he hated saying no to his sister.

However, they both noticed that someone was watching their every move, and not only at Kyogoku House, so they had to continue the farce, at least until they got rid of all the pests.

But back to the present…

After giving the letter of request, the man (the owner of the seirō and Omitsu’s husband, whose name you couldn’t remember) told you that Warabihime was already waiting for you on the floor of the tea house.

Kyogoku House was the residence of oiran, kamuro, shinzou, other workers and owners couples - the women never brought their clients there and specifically went only to the chaya associated with their houses.

Surprised by her impatience, you let him lead you to the room. The little girls (probably kamuro, supporter housekeepers who cleaned and learned the artistic part of oiran work) looked at you with curiosity as always, not knowing how you could want to meet someone as cruel as Warabihime.

Out of politeness, you smiled warmly at them and waved, recognizing a few faces. Behind them, you saw a woman with bright purple eyes, coming out of one of the rooms. Her kimono fit her violet eyes like metal clips grafted into her fantastically arranged long hair. Under her left eye, you saw a tiny beauty mark through the white make-up that adds charm to her.

You thought maybe Daki mentioned about her once or two - she didn’t like her and complained about her a lot. What did she do to her? She never said it, although it was very likely nothing. The demon sometimes acts like a spoiled child around you when she’s completely done pretending.

“So, [Last Name]” the old man began as he stood with you in front of the thin shōji door. “Why are you with Warabihime? What do you like so much about her?”

You answered without hesitation.

“She’s cute.”

And you heard a loud man’s laugh coming out from behind the door. Gyutaro laughed uncontrollably, making the man next to you pale and almost fall over. At the last minute, you grabbed him by the arm and didn’t let him.

He nervously wiped his forehead with a cloth handkerchief and, saying he could handle it now and ran to the frist floor to be as far away from the monster and this cursed room as possible.

When you went inside, you saw the green-skinned demon shaking all over, holding his belly and laughing, covering his mouth with his other hand, trying to be quiet (which he didn’t do very well). His yellow eyes narrowed and took the shape of crescent moon. You thought you saw a tear drops out of one of them.

Daki tried to silence him by standing over him with wrinkled eyebrows, repeating over and over “Shhhh, shhhh,” loudly with her finger pressed against her narrow lips, but it didn’t help. Despite the white foundation all over her face and neck (part of her oiran makeup), you could see her ears turning deep red.

Gyutaro’s amusement also came to you, and after a while you also began to laugh, enjoying the next meeting with the demonic siblings.

As always, you spent a few hours together. Daki was playing shamisen, and you and her brother were playing Go while you were talking. You could have sworn that the whole meeting, the black-haired girl was strangely thoughtful. When you caught her looking at you, she looked away fast and her ears turned red again.

• • •

After all, just as you were leaving, you were suddenly dragged by the shoulder into a dark room. It was one of the new oiran. What did Daki say her name was? Hinatsuru? Maybe a little different.

“Um, yes?”

You asked without knowing what she might want from you. Her eyebrows wrinkled with concern and her lips slightly extended as if she was still hesitating about what she was doing. She kept holding you under your arm, squeezing your clothes tighter.

She had thin and slender fingers, but her grip wasn’t delicate. If you didn’t know, you’d think you were caught by a hard-working young man.

“I–, I need help,” she whispered finally looking into your eyes. She looked desperate. “It’s important and only you can help me.”

“Excuse me?”

There was still a deep horror on her face, worrying you a little bit and making you wonder how you could help her? You had never spoken until now. But despite this, Hinatsuru knew you well - the girls at Kyogoku House talking about you, because you were probably the longest customer of cold Warabihime and now the only one.

She didn’t want to imply anything, but everything suggested that others might be dead, and she didn’t want anything to happen to you. Also, you must have gotten to know the cruel oiran very well by that time and you could help her in her mission.

She now had limited movements and lost contact with the other two women. She tried to send a message to Tengen some time ago by mices, but he still didn’t respond. Maybe the demon found out.

“Please come here tomorrow and meet me. You have to talk to me,” she said as quietly as before.

You were about to ask why, but when you saw the feelings in her eyes... You just nodded. It must have been something important if she insisted, and there was a reason why she couldn’t talk about it now.

Was she afraid of someone?

The first thing that came to your mind was Daki, but she promised you no more terrorizing the inhabitants of her seirō. Maybe you’re thinking too much about her secret and that’s why she’s the one that comes to mind. Maybe it’s not about her at all…

“And take it.”

She handed you a object wrapped in a purple fabric. You couldn’t tell from only the touch what it was, so you hid it smoothly behind your kimono and nodded again.

Now she let you go. And yet you walked out of there with a bad feeling and a heavy burden on your shoulders.

- - -

Hinatsuru breathed a sigh of relief when you said yes. She was hoping to save you. She waited a moment before leaving the room herself and the first thing she saw, was Warabihime’s face contorted in a grimace of anger.

Her head was slightly tilted to the right and she frown to form a wrinkle on her smooth forehead.

“What are you doing?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, cold sweat sweated all over the woman and she was covered with goose bumps. Her whole body was screaming, “RUN, FIGHT!” but she couldn’t move a single limb. It was hard even for her to breathe.

“N-nothing.”

The oiran leaned dangerously close, so Hinatsuru could easily smell her delicate sakura perfume and she whispered into her ear.

“So don’t touch what’s not yours, or you’ll lose your hands.”

Daki stepped away from her, threateningly staring her in the eyes for a moment, and left to return to Kyogoku House. She still could her talking as she walked away:

“I heard some girls disappeared from Tokito House recently. Take care of yourself.”

Hinatsuru felt she had to get out of here. She instinctively squeezed a small dose of poison hidden in the sleeve of the kimono she took with her just in case to simulate illness.

Yes, it’s time to bring in Uzui.

➻ Little dictionary:

Zataku (座卓) - is the generic term for this kind of low table.

Onigiri (御握り) - is made of rice formed into a triangular or oval shape, sometimes wrapped in a nori (Japanese name for different species of edible seaweed). This dish is stuffed with, among others, marinated Japanese apricot, roe, shrimp, fish, etc. The stuffing is usually salty to protect the rice from spoilage.

Gyūdon (牛丼, Japanese Beef Rice Bowl) - is one of the most popular and inexpensive fast food dishes in Japan. Its name can be literally translated to beef bowl.

Ikejime (活け締め) - It is a technique of killing fish neutralizing the nervous system of a live animal from bleeding. This ancient practice, of Japanese origin, has the effect of reducing stress and pain in fish. His muscles are not as tight, his flesh holds better, and his taste qualities are better compared to the usual way of strangulation.

Genre: Romance || Hurt/Comfort

Word count and reading time: +12.1k (49 min.)

⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death, Eating dead body, Severe injuries (not Reader), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining,

Mukago’s life as a member of Twelve Kizuki was… stressful. She thought if she could join a group of the most powerful demons in the world, it would be easier for her, but it’s just getting harder.

She felt the constant pressure exerted by Muzan, the Upper Ranks looked down on her with superiority and contempt, and she was constantly afraid to maintain her position as the Lower Four.

Rui, Lower Five, was strong and probably if he wasn’t interested in climbing the ranks of Twelve Kizuki he could easily beat her - she could feel it just by standing near him during meetings.

He gave off a dense and suffocating aura showing how many people he had eaten and illustrating how ruthless and insensitive he was.

Apparently, he didn’t spare even the members of his “family”, which Kibutsuji kindly allowed him to create. Its size changed very quickly and often - someone joined, someone left (usually from his white hand in monstrous torments) and a new replacement appeared again.

This made him Muzan’s favorite, and all the Lower Ranks looked at him with jealousy, although he didn’t seem to notice or care about it.

She wouldn’t have beaten him if he challenged her to the Blood Battle - she knew her abilities and the differences between their powers that divide them like a deep chasm.

This didn’t mean that she wouldn’t try to defend herself, she would be foolish to surrender without a fight.

He didn’t need weak and cowardly demons. He wanted nothing from them but boundless devotion and ruthlessness. It’s the only way she could go far as a demon, as Lower One and all the Upper Ranks have shown.

And that’s why she was relieved that the spider boy was indifferent to the rat race in the ranks of Twelve Kizuki. As a result, she could still live.

But even though she had been one of Kizuki for some time, she still didn’t feel like a member of their group. It’s like she totally doesn’t fit there.

The Kibutsuji once said that they all should get rid of their humanity. Their greatest weakness, but just because she was a demon doesn’t mean that she still has no human feelings - she could still laugh, cry and feel gratitude for the kindness showed for her.

That’s why she remembers with pleasure her first encounter with [Last Name], which she tries to hide even from the Kibutsuji, fearing how he might react.

She was wounded and running from the Demon Slayer. She hoped her Lower Rank 4 position would somehow deter him, but he was determined to kill her. Too late she noticed that he was one of the kinoe - hashire she would have sensed from afar long ago.

With dizzying speed she ran through the trees, hearing his footsteps behind her, not at all far behind her. He easily kept up with her.

Every time she heard him pull out his katana with a metallic sound, she tilted her head down or changed direction to avoid the colored blade. Once he managed to cut the tips of her horns. She felt sweat run all over her body and her hair stand on end.

This chase could go on indefinitely unless one coincidence - a cliff that neither she nor he noticed.

With the menacing sound of a katana cutting through the air, she tried to dodge once again and cover her head with her hands, but suddenly she lost ground under her feet.

She didn’t have time to scream when she started falling, with the Demon Slayer next to her.

In the dark she had much better eyesight than humans in the dark, and in the dim moonlight she could see a surprise painted on the boy’s face - he didn’t even understand, what was happening before he hit the stones below them with a crack.

The fall, despite appearances, was quiet - the sound of broken bones was no louder than the sound of breaking a dry branch. Neither of them screamed. The only thing that escaped their mouths was the air collected in their lungs, which came out stifled.

She landed on her abdomen - she felt pain in her bent limbs and collapsed lungs.

Her nerve endings were burning her throughout her body, sending a message to her brain about her numerous critical injuries, and liters of blood spilling from her wounds made her feel cold as if she were lying in the snow. The punctured lungs prevented her from breathing, and the blood flooding them from the inside would probably have drowned her long ago, if she hadn’t been a demon.

Either that, or she’d die of pain because, unfortunately, she fell frist on her feet.

The nameless Demon Slayer fell out of her line of sight, and it cost her too much effort to lift and turn her head to see where he lay.

She didn’t hear his groans or heavy, unsteady breathing indicative of an agonizing state of great pain, so she suspected he fell on his head and split his skull. He died quickly and probably painlessly, unlike her - she was waiting for a long and painful recovery now.

If she faints for a few hours it would be a grace, but her mind stubbornly kept her conscious.

After about thirty minutes (which seemed like an eternity to her), her throat regenerated, and although she was still in pain, she was able to emit squeaks of pain. She sounded pathetic even to her own ears - not like a member of the most powerful demons in the world, but like a mouse tormented by a cat.

Tears continued to flow from her eyes, like endless waterfalls, blurring the view of white flowers from her face. It hurt, everything hurt her so much.

Suddenly she heard footsteps approaching her, and then saw a brighter and brighter light illuminating everything in front of her. Rocks, trees, plants… For a moment she feared it would be a rising of the day, but she didn’t burn after standing in all its glory.

The person, who arrived, stood behind her back and she could only guess who it was - a lost trader in the mountains? Another demon? Or maybe another Demon Slayer?

In her present condition, she couldn’t escape. She was scared, but at the same time she wanted all the pain to end.

Will that be the end of her? Will she find peace? Will she go to hell for her sins? Will she be reborn and get a second chance?

The person stood over them for a moment and heard only the hiss of the fire burning land in the candle that human had brought and its faster breathing.

She saw how the light moving and long shadow on the stones in front of her as the mystery figure covered the flame.

The traveler was afraid. She was sure of it. Mugako didn’t have a sharpened sense of hearing as well as the Upper Moon, but the person’s heart was beating so hard that she could hear it as if she had an ear on their chest.

Despite panic, this heartbeat calmed her down a bit. With a sore throat in a hoarse, quiet voice she said:

“He-help…”

And finally, she began to float away into blissful unconsciousness, listening to the sound of a rapid heartbeat.

• • •

Mukago woke up some time later in an unfamiliar place. She didn’t see the black sky above her or even the surrounding her before mountain landscape, but the wooden ceiling of a small house. She lay on a soft futon tightly covered with numerous blankets to keep her warm.

Where was she? Did she die? This is reincarnation?

Her sense of smell was immediately attacked by the numerous sweet smells, which was mixing with each other and surrounding her from all sides. She couldn’t pick up one that would tell her where she was.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of sliding wooden doors and footsteps. With difficulty she turned her head and saw the figure standing in the dark - she knew from the smell that it was a human. Unfortunately, it was too dark for her to tell more about person from place where she lay. She’d have to get up and get closer, but her head (and all the limbs) seemed to weigh hundreds of kilograms.

The stranger gently put down the wicker baskets on the ground next to the entrance and went to the furnace nearby. As quietly as before, person threw in a few logs of wood and lit a fire.

Are you afraid of her? Is that why you were so careful? But then why would you take her to your home?

In the dim orange light from the stone furnace, she saw better the facial features of her new companion. You didn’t look like a Demon Slayer, and your worried, wrinkled eyebrows didn’t indicate bad intentions. More like regret.

Maybe you regretted your decision and wondered what to do next? What should you do with a dangerous demon under your roof?

Suddenly you noticed she was awake and with a quiet “oh!” you froze motionless. In the warm glow of fire, she saw the surprise that appeared on your face for a second and then how you looked at her with those [color] eyes with an expression she didn’t recognize for now. She hasn’t seen it on anyone’s face too long time to tell immediately what kind of emotion it is.

She knew perfectly well the fear hidden in the stiff faces of her dead victims or the sadness when they begged for mercy in tears. She had seen pain and anger, but this… It was something new.

“Are you still going to sleep? Are you all right?” you asked, confusing her even more.

Why would you ask that and care about her? With every moment she spent with you, she have more and more questions popping into her head, and the uncertainty of your intentions twisting her guts. She didn’t know what to expect from you.

She nodded hesitantly and again there was silence between you for a few minutes.

You turned your gaze away from her looking at a distant point in front of you, focusing on your thoughts, and she felt the atmosphere getting more thicker.

You didn’t look like you were planning on speaking anytime soon, so she decided to do it, but before she spoke she already knew that it wouldn’t be an easy - no sound would pass through her dry, sore throat, and her swollen like a sponge tongue, stuck to her palate.

She swallowed her saliva with difficulty a few times and opened her glued lips with a wet sound attracting your attention again.

“Where–?”

“At my house,” you said quickly and didn’t let her finish. “Don’t bother yourself, lie down. Try to get more sleep.”

She closed her mouth obediently and continued to stare at you with a startled look.

Unable to stand her attentive, unblinking gaze, you turned your head the other way and looked into space. You felt awkward when she did it.

The windows were closed with wooden shutters, so the only source of light in the small hut was the fire from the furnace, and the sound that interrupted the uncomfortable silence was the crackling of wood in the heat and your quiet breaths.

When you entered the house you noticed a change - her breathing was no longer as loud and whistling as at the beginning, when you found her.

Have her lungs already regenerated? If so, how long will it take for her to fully recover?

You tightened your lips in anger and frowned slightly in frustration. What are you gonna do next? What will she do?

How stupid you were…

You chastised yourself in your mind for your recklessness and wondered what you should do now, when the demon was watching you all the time.

She could see perfectly well how your face changed under the influence of emotion - honestly, anyone could read you like an open book, but she hoped you wouldn’t suddenly pull out a nichirin blade from somewhere to kill her.

She wasn’t sure, she would have been able to defend herself from you in this state.

- - -

The night passed for you… without much 'attraction' - you didn’t talk to Mukago anymore and after a few minutes you fell asleep by the stove through its warmth and she didn’t try to wake you up. She focused on regenerating as quickly as possible so she could leave.

But unfortunately, she couldn’t sleep at the same time anymore, so she just lay alone with her thoughts, staring at the ceiling. Hunger squeezed and twisted her guts, the recovering drained a lot of energy from her, and when she looked at you, saliva flowed into her mouth.

You looked so good with that calm face untainted by any worries when you were conscious. Your scent filled her nostrils until she got dizzy - she felt drunk from your scent. You weren’t a marechi, but everything in the cabin smelled like you - the floor, the furniture and even the sheets she was lying in.

The years spent in the wooden walls made the entire house to soak up your scent like a handkerchief thrown into the water, although you probably didn’t smell it - demons have a much more sensitive sense of smell than humans, and her hunger with numerous, severe injuries only made it worse.

You were like an aromatic, fat chicken covered in honey over a fire. With skin flushed from the warmth and slightly shiny from the sweat running down your forehead.

You were definitely well seasoned. Just looking at you, she could imagine the structure of your muscles, feel the distinct iron taste of blood on her tongue spiced with your emotions.

There were many chemical reactions in the human body that were also caused by hormones and enzymes - from what she remembered about butchering meat or fish, when she was still human. Apparently, fear killed the taste of meat by the adrenaline and acids released in muscle tissues during stressful situations, so now you were perfect. Hunters and fishermen tried to kill the animal as quickly and painlessly as possible to prevent it. This killing technique is called ikejime.

You weren’t special, but in her condition, you were everything she could have dreamed of right now.

Normally, she’d sneak up on you while you were asleep and kill you before you could react, but she couldn’t. She still had broken bones (not only in her legs) and too severe internal injuries. All she had left was to wait and suffer in the silence still lured by your scent like a bee to a flower.

You unknowingly tortured her and turned your little house into her own private hell. You were her executioner, even though you didn’t do anything to her.

Her belly murmured low and long for food like a dog waiting for a bone, but it was a sound too muffled by the blanket to wake you up. You didn’t even move in your position.

An unpleasant spasm passed through her bowels like a spear, and the emptiness in her stomach became even more painful. Even more saliva poured into her mouth and flowed down her unnaturally pale cheek to soak into the pillow under her head and into her messy hair.

All she could do now was looking at you with a deep hunger in her eyes.

- - -

Shortly after sunrise you woke up - although the shutter was tightly closed and covered with some material she could tell by the singing of the morning birds.

Your sleepy eyes slowly opened and you stretched your bones with a quiet crack. From being in an awkward position for hours, your back and neck hurt. You grabbed the back of your neck to massage your tense muscles and looked around with tired eyes into a dark room, but you didn’t saw anything - the fire from the furnace has long gone out, leaving behind a delicate smell of smoke.

Moving around in a small room using only your memory, you walked up to the door and a little opened it, letting light in - luckily for your adopted guest, they didn’t face east or west, so it was half-dark.

Now you could see a white horned head with silver hair around her like a halo from beneath your bedding. Her dark eyes stared at you, making you less comfortable with a constant observer.

Honestly, if you forgot her, you’d scream in terror until the nearest village heard you and waking everyone up.

How about you become a new legend about a ghost living in the mountains with a killing voice, hm?

Her eyes followed you wherever you went in a small room - whether you made yourself breakfast or a bento for lunch at work. You pretended you didn’t notice how the unnatural irises moved, tracking your every slightest movement. When you disappeared out of their area, she even struggled to move her whole head towards you.

Was it uncomfortable? Yes. Was that disturbing? Most of all.

And you could have left the door locked and forgotten about her… Or leave her in the mountains till morning to burn.

“I’m going to work, don’t destroy or touch anything,” you said coldly when you changed (hiding behind a curtain made from an old blanket and hung from the ceiling on a beam supporting the roof) clothes and turned to the exit.

You didn’t even look at her knowing she’d still stare at you quietly with those dark eyes.

- - -

To your surprise, when you came home that evening, the demon woman was still lying where you left her.

Demons don’t regenerate faster?

You thought slowly chewing an onigiri ball. A little white rice stuck to your cheeks around your lips, but you didn’t pay much attention to it when you were focused on the lying demon.

“You still can’t move?” you asked her, still standing in the red light of the setting sun.

You had a bag of groceries hanging loosely on your one shoulder and an axe in the other hand. You weren’t stupid enough to walk into a dark room with a predator without any weapons.

But you were stupid enough to let a monster in and fall asleep next to her.

You reprimanded yourself quietly in your mind, frowned at that and clenched the handle of the iron axe tighter.

And then you left her unsupervised.

Were you mad at yourself? Yeah, but you can’t change the time. You could only hope she was really too hurt to get to you.

“Hey, come on, move,” you ordered to her still not going inside.

“I-I can’t…” she said in a slightly hoarse voice. You couldn’t tell if it was because of her bad condition or the long time she hadn’t used it.

So far, her body has taken care of numerous internal injuries and setting her ribs in right place. Maybe if she had eaten in the meantime it would have gone faster, but she was completely alone all day without any food.

Unfortunately, despite healing most of the injuries from her body, she felt weaker because of the amount of energy it consumed from her. Probably even after she’s completely healed, she won’t be able to stand on her feet for a while.

“This better be true,” you threatened, and she could have seen your embrance on the wooden shaft of the tool tighten. She even heard the wood crackling quietly under your hand.

You were ready to attack her at any moment if she suddenly jumped at you, and she was sure you wouldn’t hesitate.

You went inside and put a white wrap from a fabric bag next to her. It emitted a strong odor that attracted her on the one hand and repelled her on the other. Like water in a poisoned lake, a dehydrated animal. Like a Venus flytrap bugs.

“Eat,” you said looking down at her, and the command acted on her like letting the dog off a leash.

She had one big word in her head: “FOOD” - she immediately turning to the bundle with a weak, pale hand ending with sharp claws and she tore the material.

It was meat.

She felt she was about to cry. She didn’t understand your kindness and she had many questions.

Who are you to her, after all? You helped her a lot, but your behavior shows her how much you despise her (or her kind). You still gave her mixed signals that caused her a headache.

If she still goes on like this, she’ll go crazy because of you.

With a trembling hand, she grabbed it and shoved it into her mouth, almost choking. The sudden sweetness that attacked her tongue turned into a bitter and tart taste, making her want to vomit.

She quickly spat out a large piece of meat and began coughing and spitting with effort to rid her mouth of the residue. When she looked up, she saw you looking at her frown in a grim grimace of discontent.

She knew that look, you reminded her… It’s better not to mention his name here. Even quietly, because he’d find out, and he’d be angry to see one of his moons in such a weak state. He would probably consider her unworthy of that rank.

And what would he do next? Would he downgrade her to a lower position? Would he expel her from Twelve Kizuki? Would he kill her?

Those thoughts gave her the creeps.

“What is it? Why can’t you eat?” You asked, and your voice sounded sharp in her ears. She lowered her head. She couldn’t look you in the face for some reason.

“You’re a demon, you eat meat,” you said as if you were stating the obvious, such as that it’s bright during the day and birds fly in the sky.

“I can’t,” she admitted quietly and reluctantly, still trembling. “I can’t eat an animal.”

Are you gonna kill her now? You gonna call a Demon Slayer? Why don’t you just expose her to sunlight?

All she heard was your unhappy sigh above her and saw how you take the bag of the rest of the meat from her. There was still probably kilo in there.

“Well, it’s sad, but it won’t go to waste.”

You turned away from her and sat by the stone oven with the dry twigs from the wicker basket. Moments later, you put a pot on it and started preparing food for yourself.

In the next few minutes, the hut was filled with aromas of spices and the sound of bubbling water for sauce. All your attention was turned to cooking and she could see your calm face again illuminated by a yellow, warm flame.

You looked as if you had forgotten about her presence and all your problems - now there was only you and your little cabin. Your home. The outside world didn’t exist. You probably didn’t even worry about the probable sudden intrusion of some dangerous intruder.

Mukago would like to have such a quiet haven. A place, where she can come and forget everything - about demons and people, the rest of Kizuki and about her Master, fear of whether she’ll survive another day or the slayer she encounters is stronger than she is.

But looking at you, she finally calmed herself - it was nice to see you at work, even when you weren’t doing anything special.

Lying in your futon and covered with a blanket (she could still smell your scent, even though it had begun to faded) watching you cook - this scene was almost family-like. Affectionate. Intimate.

If she were human, the smell would make her drool. Maybe you could eat together.

When you were done, you put your food in a clay dish and sat in the corner not far from the furnace that was still generating heat. Suddenly, as if you remembering something, you looked in her direction without moving.

“Are you going to watch me eat like that?” you asked hesitantly.

Surprised, she forgot she was staring at you so intensely. Slightly ashamed, she looked away and focused on the ceiling this time.

Now the roles were reversed and you were staring at her, slowly eating the steaming gyūdon and wondering what to do next.

You should have gotten rid of her this morning, thrown her in the sunlight. What went into your mind to take her with you? If not now, she’ll kill you the next time. The only thing demons can eat is human flesh, and now you’re sure, and she even confirmed it. She’s hungry, you can’t feed her anything else. The sooner you take care of this, the better it will be.

You thought as you put the dish next to you and turned to the door. The sun has already set.

With resignation, you promised yourself you’d get rid of her in the morning (even though you knew, you wouldn’t keep it as usual).

“How long will it take you to regenerate?”

You suddenly broke the silence. The horned demon looked at you and the fire reflected in her silver irises. The red sclera all around it made her look like she really came out of the depths of hell, but there was something endearing about her - if it weren’t for the unnaturally eyes color and horns, she would have been really lovely human.

“I don’t know.”

She admitted it honestly, because she had nothing else and asked instead what will you do with her, still not looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you said as if you wanted to tease her.

Although the way your body was tensed up and your pulse quickened, she knew you were lying, but there was nothing she could do about it.

- - -

Mukago suddenly felt her blanket lift. She wasn’t sleeping - she just lay there with her eyes closed trying to speed up her recovery by focusing on healing individual fractures and injuries rather than trying everything at once.

With her slightly open eyelids, she saw you squatting next to her, holding the same axe on your shoulder as before, and staring at her belly with squinted eyes.

She quickly raised her hands, trying to shield herself from the blows, squealing like any woman in the face of unexpected danger. Surprised she was awake, you shivered and dropped the covering her material. A deep blush of shame appeared on your cheeks from being caught in the act of disgrace.

“I was just checking to see if you’re recovering well,” you said right away so she wouldn’t have any bad ideas…

And you thought you could change the sheets soon, because lying in stains of dried blood leaking through the bandages didn’t seem too hygienic to you, but you never mentioned it.

You sounded like you needed to explain yourself to her.

And stupid.

When you realized it, your surprised (and definitely guilty) face turned into a grimace again. You made a loud “tsk!” with your tongue and walked away from her.

Before you left, you took a big basket with you, and in the first rays of the sun coming through the door, she saw your ears are still red.

She was alone.

Again.

She felt like the small progress you had made in your unexpected relationship had been reduced to zero, and even as if you had taken a few extra steps backwards. She felt guilty about it because you really seemed nice even though you were hiding under the hood of a rough person all the time. She wished she hadn’t kept her eyes closed or called you.

Although she had spent years as a demon, she had not had many opportunities to meet another person to talk to. Humans quickly ended up as her food, weaker demons fled or died fighting for rank, and Twelve Kizuki treated each other as enemies.

Why did she only now feel how lonely she was? Or maybe it’s by tasting a sweet a little bit of the other person’s company?

Is it gonna be hard for her to get back into her life now after that you’ve just walked into it so unexpectedly?

Will she be able to return to those cold, lonely nights surrounded only by the dead bodies of her enemies who only hated her? Who only wanted to kill her?

You never gave her the feeling that you wanted to hurt her or that you were angry with her. You made ugly faces sometimes, but she saw you were only mad at yourself.

You did it when you said or showed her too much. You pretend you don’t care about her, but she doesn’t think it’s true. You’re a good person.

And maybe you were lonely in those mountains too. In these four wooden walls, where it is futile to look for the smell or traces of any guests.

Will she forget the heat from your furnace? The smell of flowers surrounding your home? The sound of your clamly beating heart or quietly breathing while you sleep?

When will she forget your voice or the color of your eyes? Or all those faces, that even though she didn’t feel comfortable with you at first, she found it funny now.

Did you know that when you get nervous, your left temple pulsates?

Here it was so… Pleasant. Nice. Different.

- - -

“How much more time do you need?” you asked when you came to see her in the afternoon.

She was now able to sit up and hardly felt any pain in her abdomen. The only thing stopping her from leaving was the sunlight and the broken bones in her legs.

“About twelve hours.” However, after a moment of reflection, she added. “Maybe a little more.”

Hearing an answer that satisfied you, you nodded your head and put away the new dry branches and charcoal. The last one you got from a friendly family, and the rest you found on the way home from the city where you work.

Despite living near the woods and mountains, you were neither a hunter nor a lumberjack. This meant, you had to get up early in the morning and drive your carretela the next few kilometers to your workplace, but you liked it. The other employees were always nice and there was always a customer to whom you could please with your goods. An additional plus was the specific place where you live allowing you to experiment with it.

And what were you trading?

“What are you doing?” the girl asked, when she felt a little more confident and saw you pull a little wrap from behind your kimono.

“I’m planting.”

You sprinkled seeds from a small handkerchief into a pot and wrote the name of the plant with charcoal on it, before you pulled out a thin notebook from the book cabinet and starting to write something in it. She thought you wouldn’t want to talk to her, but after a while, you started more talking.

“My boss sometimes gives me different seeds to record the growth of plants under different conditions than in the greenhouse.” You paused for a moment to see if you wrote the name on the other page correctly. “And there are also plants that won’t grow anywhere else, but in the mountains because of this.”

“Are you a gardener?”

“I work in a flower shop, but yes - I’m also a gardener. I even have a nice garden in front of my house thanks to this.”

“Do you know a lot of plants?”

“Oh, yes, boss probably brings them from all over the world.” You said in a tone showing that you don’t consider it a great feat. Like you’d be better off without that knowledge. “He has many shops and contacts with abroad. He’s a businessman and lately he’s trying to make a deal for his services with some old family of pharmacists.”

“Is that why you were there? To study the growth of flowers in the mountains?”

The quiet shuffle of the grey pencil on the paper went silent when you looked at her. She was no longer hiding from your gaze - after all, she was Lower Rank 4.

“Yes, you fell into my Hayachineusuyukiso.” Seeing that the name doesn’t mean anything to her, you added. “Also called Edelweiss or Beautiful Star. A rare, white, mountain flower, not difficult to grow, but it was difficult for me to make suitable soil conditions for it.”

The only thing she answered was “oh” as an understanding of the subject of the plant, and then she added even louder and more confidently “Oh!” when she understood exactly what she had done.

She swooped in (along with the Demon Slayer) and destroyed your hard work to grow these flowers. She didn’t know what you had to do to get this, so she was even more worried. And you were probably doing it for your boss. She was hoping, he wouldn’t fire you for it.

“I’m sorry,” she said with guilt, putting her hands on the sheets covering her. There’s almost nothing left of your scent on it, replaced by her sweat and blood.

“You don’t have to, you can’t fix them with words.”

You lifted your eyes from the pages and saw the demon staring at her clenched hands. The bangs and longer strands of hair fell freely over her face, concealing her like a silver hood, but were still too short to cover her tightly held lips.

Was she clutching them out of hunger or guilt?

Even though the thought occurred in your head, you didn’t consider her a serious threat. She reminded you of a child, which somebody yelled at - sad and ashamed of their actions. Sitting in a corner for punishment and left with her thoughts to calmly reflect on her mistakes. Unwillingly, you added while closing the small notebook with a slam.

“I didn’t need them for anything anymore anyway - I just had to get the flowers to unfurl to confirm a theory.”

When you stood up, she followed you with her eyes, watching you slowly getting to leave, before you stopped for a moment.

You came back and put some similar notebooks in front of her.

“If you’re bored, you can read or draw on blank pages. I’d probably be bored to death with nothing to do here.”

“Are you going back to work?” she asked, hoping you’d stay with her.

“There’s a charcoal-burning family on the other side of the mountains, and I promised Tanjiro-kun I’d come and visit them after I checked on you.”

“Oh, okey.”

Her sad and disappointed tone made you feel like you just kicked a little cat. Before guilt and duty completely took over you, you left planning a meeting with the rest of the Kamado family, picking prettier flowers for a bouquet for Mrs. Kie and her two daughters.

- - -

“Any improvement?” you asked when you finally came back.

Although you left your friends before dark (knowing how treacherous mountain roads can be), you still reached the hut only after the sun had hidden behind the horizon.

The abdominal pain practically disappeared along with the dark blue and purple spots adorning her skin and she could move her toes, but it was still a problem for her to bend her knees. She still can’t walk on her own.

“I need a few more hours.”

“Is there any way to speed this up?”

“I could, but…”

She couldn’t finish a sentence knowing there was no way you’d say yes. She looked down and silver hair again obscured her view.

She heard you sighing and leaving. In the backyard, you threw something on a gravel road that gave off a metallic reverberation and dragged it, destroying a few of the stray little twigs.

Through the entrance to the cottage, she saw you standing in front of a wooden trailer. You harnessed a little brown horse to it and started pulling off the fabric bags and bringing them home, putting them in a corner.

She watched your actions with curiosity until you stopped, stood over her and asked with a neutral expression.

“If I help you, can you make it to the carriage?”

She looked at the vehicle one more time and then nodded at you. You uncovered her body, pulled her out of the futon - there was a large dark stain of clotted blood where she lay, but you’ve seen a significant improvement. You were involuntarily happy about it.

She reached out to you like a baby. You held her under her armpits and then you tried to put her hand across your neck. The last time, when you carried her home unconscious, she was definitely heavier and harder for you to maneuver.

Unlike the first time you met her, she was no longer cold - the gentle warmth of her body made you believe she was truly human, if it weren’t for her appearance.

Relying on you, she came to the carriage and you put her in the trailer. Her legs were still weak and flabby, but the fact that she could walk a few steps with the help was a good sign.

“Where are you taking me?”

She asked, watching you step forward and sit in the coachman’s seat. Holding the leather reins, you swung with it at the animal to make it move.

Not very glad with the night ride, the horse initially resisted, but after a few pulls, he finally moved. His clattering hooves resounded in silence along with his loud hisses, making it even less real.

When was the last time Mukago rode in a carriage? It must have been when she was still human.

Was she afraid? No, even though you didn’t answer her question and you kept your distance almost the whole time. She knew you weren’t bad.

And she knew it would finally come. She couldn’t hope that you would let her live with you - after all, you were natural enemies.

When after a long ride you stopped the horse before the entrance between the two mountains, she knew it was time to say goodbye.

You went around the carriage again to get to her and took her down, before you led her deep into a narrow, stone road and sat her on a big boulder.

“I can’t go any further.”

You said crouching at the height of her eyes. You pointed your finger at the dark behind her and added. “That’s where I found you, with any luck he should still be there, if the wild animals haven’t gotten him first.”

The demon nodded. She still didn’t understand what was inside your head and why you decided to helping her so much, but she was very grateful to you.

She looked at your back for a moment as you walked away from her and when your footsteps silenced in the other sounds of the night, she slowly crawl into the corpse of the Demon Slayer.

She had to make several stops along the way to rest, but she had all night to get there.

Surprisingly, the corpse was still lying where he fell. Flowers were arranged around it, as if someone was trying to make it up for the dead boy’s lack of burial.

As she got closer, she could see that the animals had found their way to him during those three days. His right hand was missing and in the place of his eyes were two black voids staring straight at her. The dried blood on his cheeks now looked like tears. Equally bad must have been the hole in his belly, where something was still moving under the stiff material of his uniform.

Unable to complain, she tried to ignore the horrible smell coming from the rotting body and after a few minutes she could walk normally again.

- - -

You didn’t leave from the entrance to the ravine long before dawn. What told you to stay? Guilt? Duty to a stranger’s girl?

No, it’s a demon. You can’t forget that.

But even your own admonitions didn’t move you. Your horse turned his head restlessly waiting for you to let him to turn back and lie down again in the dry straw in a small barn, but you waited.

For what? Until she finishes eating and comes back for you?

Tired, you rubbed your eyes and struggled with drowsiness. You decided to wait another ten minutes, and if she doesn’t signal that she needs help by then, you’ll leave.

- - -

You were awakened from a shallow sleep by the restlessness of the horse. The animal tromped its hooves and neighing, trying to wake you up and keep you away from the danger in front of you.

When you got up quickly, you grabbed the lantern next to you and lit your way, but you didn’t see anything. Not any demon or a wild animal.

Feeling a sudden movement of air next to you, you looked to the side, but there was nothing too. You could have tell someone was here a moment ago - you still felt the warmth on your shoulder.

Deciding you’d wasted too much time here, you ordered for the horse turn around, still looking back to see what would upset him so much. When you took a closer look, you saw on the road an elongated shape sliding slowly into the nearby bushes.

A snake? Well, at least it wasn’t your still hungry friend…

On the way home, you could have sworn that you felt a constant gaze stuck into you like two daggers. It wasn’t very pleasant, you could feel how its hidden owner buzzing with bad emotions and the desire to murder.

It gave you the creeps all over your body and all you could think about was getting back to a safe house as soon as possible.

Maybe it’s just your wild imagination? Being alone late at night in the dark woods are good food for it.

The only thing you heard that night (apart from the moaning of the wooden wheels of your carriage) was the loud flutter of the wings of some bird flying over your head, but because of the thick branches of the trees you couldn’t even see the starry sky above you. You knew something was there because once you even got hit in the head with a pine cone that broke off under his weight.

- - -

For the next few days you had some peace and quiet - no one fell to your flowers or needed your help.

The only people, who disturbed you were mysterious men in brown suits, who came to ask you for the way to the mountains. They explained that they worked for some organization and one of their members had a terrible accident nearby.

The road to this place was easy from your house, so you pointed them in the right direction.

All you saw was how they looked at each other through the gap in the material attached under their hats in understanding and they left you without a word.

The first time you came to this place, the view was terrible, now it must be a lot of worst especially after you left the corpse for decay, wild animals and brought there the starving demon.

But it’s not your problem anymore, although you could have sworn the birds that accompanied them looked at you like they knew what you’d done.

They looked at you with their black eyes, judging you quietly and with the intelligence you’ve never seen in any animal.

But maybe you were just imagining it? Maybe you’re just too paranoid?

- - -

Mukago thought no one would find out about her weak. That it would remain her little secret.

Oh, how wrong she could have been.

As much as she wanted to stay and be around you, she knew it would be too dangerous for both of you. Just thinking about you, no matter how pleasant, could get her (and not only her) into trouble.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, nothing could escape the attention of the Demon King.

One day he summoned her to Infinite Castle by a woman with biwa.

She was wandering through the forest and all she heard was an unexpected sharp tug of the strings of the instrument, when she suddenly stood in front of the cold face of Kibutsuji. The demon was dressed in white pants and a black suit still remaining in his current role of a good husband and father.

The demon has recently found a new family to serve as a cover for him, so he can hide from the Demon Slayer Corps.

What did he do to achieve this?

She couldn’t be sure, but she expected him to stain his hands again with the blood of an innocent person. People were nothing but food and tools to him, just like the members of Twelve Kizuki.

He stood in front of her, staring at her like she was an uninteresting animal. An insect. A miserable subspecies.

Seeing him, she immediately turned even more pale and fell on her knees before him, lowering her head as low as she could. Her forehead touched the hard, dark wood beneath her and she felt how sweat ran down her temples. Mukago barely holds back the trembling from nervousness.

His forehead was not tainted by any wrinkle created by furrowed brows. The man's posture, though it was and did not seem tense, she still could feel the dread floating in the air.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Muzan asked calmly but harshly, standing over her. As he always did when he gave the order for Twelve Kizuki.

“I–”

She didn’t know what to say. How was she supposed to explain all of this? Or was it about puncture the Demon Lord’s pride, thinking he wouldn’t know? Here, among the demons you could die for lesser offenses.

Or maybe she should already start apologizing and writing her last mental will?

“You had a perfect source of information right under your nose,” he started to speak, and his immaculate image began to break like a broken vessel. With every word, she could hear the anger rising within him. “How could you leave so easily? When others work hard to find even the slightest clue as to where Blue Spider Lily is, you just turn down the chance that fate has given you!”

With his scream, something glass snapped near them, making Mukago squirm even more. She trying to hide inside himself and shaking like a frightened rabbit.

She began to wonder if the next thing that snapped would be her skull.

This time, however, he spared her life. It just ended with an unpleasant reprimand that she won’t forget for long, really long time.

Black-haired woman barely teleported her to the vicinity of the wooded areas of the mountains, she already started instinctively running towards you with tears in her eyes.

Were those tears of fear? Relief from a life saved yet again by luck? Happiness of seeing you one more time?

Or maybe just a rush of cold air caused them?

Her whole body was still trembling and covered with goosebumps, the cloud of shock was just started leaving her mind, her heart was beating fast fueled by adrenaline, but there was also an unusual lightness in her legs, as if she weighed nothing.

Her feet carried her to the door of your hut, lured by the familiar scent of flowers from your garden, dug-up earth and…

You.

Mukago is alive.

For now…

- - -

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” Mukago heard your voice along with approaching footsteps.

She waited for you as usual, sitting on the wooden beam supporting the ceiling, that she had spent so much time staring at during her long convalescence.

She has been coming to see you almost every day since she had the conversation with her Master - sometimes she disappearing for a quick hunt.

She tried to deal with it quickly, but at the same time she chose villages a little further away from your home. She didn’t want to bring here another slayer or, even worse, a Hashira.

That would be too suspicious and it could lead them to you.

What would they do when they found out you were friends with a demon? With the murderer of countless people? One of the Kizuki?

She didn’t even want to think about it…

Another reason was a little selfish, because she didn’t want you to hear about her victims. She didn’t want you to start looking at her like everyone else, like the demon that she is.

But this time when you came back, you weren’t alone - she heard other footsteps too.

From the sounds she might have deduced your comrade was a man. He walked quietly, but confidently. She could hear the clatter of the scabbard on his katana slapping against his hip and belt when he was walking, and his calm breathing.

A hunter?

No, the slayer.

And from his strong aura, she could have infer that he must have been high-ranking. Perhaps, he was even a Kinoe.

Outside the door, she heard a man walk away from you. When you entered the hut, for a moment the orange rays of the sunset fell inside, drawing your long shadow on the ground. You immediately looked up expecting to see your guest there as usual.

And as usual, she was there. With a nice smile and soft eyes waiting for you. Just like a domestic cat.

A large, predatory cat that could easily devour you if she only wanted to. She was now like a wild tiger in her territory.

You no longer saw in her the same fear as before or the pretended confidence.

But tigers are big cats, who also like to lie down sometimes without stress.

She often watched you at work too. You didn’t know exactly why she came back to you or where her interest in plants came from, because she never made it clear before what she was interested in. When you asked her about it, she only said:

“Because I can’t and you know a lot about this.”

You sensed her sincerity at the time, even though you didn’t quite understand what she meant.

Maybe if you knew Muzan Kibutsuji you could understand, but she couldn’t tell you about him.

And her mission wasn’t the only reason why she couldn’t leave…

Sometimes you felt like you were playing a game with her, where you slowly discover more and more about each other.

It was nice talking to someone and not going back to an empty hut where no one was waiting for you, but it brought new problems for you.

You began to get attached to her presence and miss her when she was gone. Wait for her to come back to you, when she suddenly disappeared at night after you fell asleep.

How many times have you woken up in the dark and waited for her appear to the first rays of the sun?

How many more excuses are you gonna need for your eyes bags, when people ask for them? When will you stop worrying others with your absent-minded behavior, often getting lost in your thoughts and falling asleep in a quiet corner at work?

“Demons don’t feel love or empathy, they’re monsters.” Someone told you once, and you took those words to heart. “Bloodthirsty beasts, who only want to quench their hunger.”

But are all demons really evil?

Are there any good demons?

You followed the girl coming down from the wooden beam with your eyes. Even though she smiled at you, you could tell she was nervous.

Is it because of that guy with the katana?

Suddenly, remembering something, you asked her putting away your packages of things you bought in the city on the table next to the fireplace.

“There's been some missing in the area lately… Do you know anything about that?”

Mukago seemed surprised by your question - she turned pale (although you didn’t expect it to be possible) and a smile faded from her face, replaced by the uncertainty you saw in her during your first conversation.

“Um, no. I don't think so. Why?”

It didn’t sound very convincing and all you could do, was take her word for it.

Some time ago a child went missing and was found after two days - he had lost into the woods and fallen into an old, but deep bear pit.

Luckily, the villagers found him safe and healthy (not counting the fear and hunger he must have felt during that time, as well as the numerous abrasions he made, when he tried to climb on the slippery rocks).

Mr. Bear was probably on a trip or was long dead, killed by hunters.

Missing husbands were found drunk in pubs, and and young womens were found with their chosen ones not accepted by their families.

But there were also unsolved disappearances, where no clues have been found to tell what might have happened to the missing.

You didn’t dwell on the subject and unpacked your bag, carefully placing its contents in a locker nearby. These included various spices, rice, bread and meat, in addition to seeds from your boss.

You might have gone a little crazy, because you had an unusual customer, who come to see you in the morning.

A mysterious black-haired man in western clothes entered the flower shop before the sun came up and asked your friend Misaki (who was standing behind the counter) about flowers. He wanted to buy something for his wife and daughter as an apology for spending so much time at work.

When she disappeared into the other side of the store behind one of the larger plants to bring ribbons to tie the flowers stems, you saw him looking around, although you could tell from his eyes that he was bored rather than curious.

His red irises wandered along the shelves with vases and multicolored plants without any reaction - none of them surprised or delighted him, as if he had seen them all more than once.

Well, this place certainly weren’t the only store selling exotic plants, there were more of them in Tokyo for sure. The only difference between you and them is the price - because your boss tried to grow most of them here, the prices were much lower than those in the center of the capital.

You barely managed to keep your eyes open, sitting where you usually sit hidden in a corner on the windowsill.

Monstera deliciosa - an ornamental plant, imported from distant exotic forests, with large leaves in the usual heart shape was the perfect cover for you. From behind its jagged leaves, you could see who was going in and out without fear of being noticed. You liked working here, but didn't always feel like dealing with customers.

Misaki, with her open and warm personality, was the perfect worker for such tasks and kind enough to let you laze in your corner. Unlike you, she was unfamiliar with growing plants and thought you were digging up in mud every day. So with minimal work you could have had extra hours of sleep or read a book, sometimes aloud to pass the time for both of you.

But now she is gone and your slumber was interrupted by an unexpected nice voice.

“Excuse me,” the client said with a polite expression. He had an even nicer, smooth face and a gentle smile. “I’m also looking for something for my mother’s grave. She died just a few days ago.”

Surprised, he’s addressing to you, you just pointed your finger at Spider Lily standing nearby. The slender flowers already had their characteristic upward spindly stamens and corrugated petals, giving them their unique charm. They attracted by their furiously red color that matched his irises.

That color spoke loudly: danger! They made you as anxious as when a man turned his attention to you.

You were disturbed, when he talked about his dead relative like he didn’t care what happened to her and how fast he was right next to you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or the creaking of the wooden floor under his weight.

Even more puzzling was how he could see you hidden behind many large leaves in a dark corner of the store.

You wanted Misaki to come back and take him away from you, but undeterred by your unkindness behavior, the man continued.

“Yes, I thought about it, but she didn’t like red. She associated it with bad luck.”

He spoke, looking at other flowers, but you still somehow felt his gaze on you. It was as if he was trying to keep you within the corner of his eye so you wouldn’t escape him.

You didn’t know what they were associating with for her, but from now on for you, they were with his eyes. Red as fresh blood.

“Is it available in blue?”

You swallowed your saliva with difficulty and nodded insecurely, when his cat’s pupils landed on you again without even turning his head towards you. You weren’t even sure you heard him right - he hypnotized you like a snake.

He finally turned his head to you and closed his eyes gently. It seemed to shine its own light. “Where are they?”

“We don’t have them right now… It’s very hard to grow and maintain them.”

You finally managed to gather inside enough to speak up and come out smoothly from an unconscious lie.

The man’s smiling expression turned to disappointment when he frowned. He pulled out a small leather purse from his pocket and handed it to you. The coins inside clinked pleasantly with every shake.

“Well, if you ever manage to grow them, could you keep them for me?”

At the same time Misaki returned from the warehouse with colored ribbons and decorative paper.

He immediately drew all his attention to her as if he had never spoken to you and composed with her advice one lovely, little bouquet for his wife and one for his daughter.

When he finally left, he didn’t ask for a refund or tell you how to notify him when the job will be done.

You felt like you made a deal with the devil and that it was too late to withdraw.

So you did some more shopping after work. Your boss let you go home earlier seeing your fatigue written on your face (again) and thought you were sick.

By the time you returned home, the sun was already slowly sinking into the west, even though it was still early. The charms of the coming winter.

That’s when you ran into the Demon Slayer. Hashira. You’ve occasionally seen low-ranking slayers in the city passing through or staying to take a break there, but you’ve only seen Hashira twice.

Your first meeting wasn’t the most pleasant, and if you could, you’d erase it from your memory.

It was a few years ago, when you still had no idea of the importance of their uniforms and demons walking among humans as myths inserted between other fairy tales.

But one unlucky night, your… friend was turned into a demon.

Terrified and badly wounded, she escaped from her home where the attack took place, but soon after, she was transformed into these things. Driven probably by hunger and instinct, she ran to you - to the place, where she felt most safe and where she knew, she could get help.

In the middle of the night you suddenly heard a loud sound, waking you from a deep sleep. Rubbing your eyes, you weren’t sure what it was until you heard it again.

It sounded more like the roar of a wounded animal than the weeping of a woman - through the thin walls you could hear her heavy gasp and squeak, when she stood in front of your house.

Why didn’t she attack you right away? Was she out of strength? Did she sense anything else? Something stronger than her?

Or was she fighting with herself?

Are there any good demons?

With the only weapon you had (and it was a metal fire poker) you opened the shōji door. There you saw in the full moonlight your friend lying in a pool of blood, curling in pain.

Without thinking, you ran to help her. Your head was empty, all you could think about was your friend. Wounded.

You didn't even have time to kneel beside her when she suddenly threw herself at you knocking you over onto the mud. You tried to push her away with a metal tool, but it was like a new force came into her.

Her jaw snapped in your face, almost biting your nose off. Saliva dripped from her mouth and chin splashing you, but you barely felt it.

Nor did you feel the strong gust of wind blowing her hair and knocking her head off her neck.

Suddenly she froze and her head hit you before fell to the ground next to you. Still on the poker, you held the rest of her inert body, which became even heavier.

“Oi, move.”

He said in a cold tone as he hid the katana in the cover - the green sheen of its blade blinded you for a second.

"Oi, you can't hear what I'm saying to you!? Get out of here!"

He saw you open and close your mouth before you muttered something, still in shock, looking back at the stagnant corpse in front of you.

“You...ed her... Mur...”

"Hmm?" He asked without hearing what you said. He sounded harsh and cold, like what he did was just killing a worm. "What?"

“A murder! You kill, killed her! Mur–!”

You weren't allowed to finish because a stranger punched you in the jaw and you fell face down again into the dirt beneath you mixed with her blood. Then stranger tugged you by the shoulder, dragging you to stand on your knees to look at him.

The air between you, besides the stench of blood, was filled with the strong smell of smoke and decomposing flesh.

"She wasn't a human anymore," he began unconsciously squeezing you by the shoulder and other hand. He almost broke your arm. You tried to wrestle, but you were too weak. "It's a demon!"

"No! It was–"

"It doesn't matter what or who she was to you before," he interrupted you violently and shook you again.

It made you feel some of the shock go away, allowing you to focus more on the man and the environment. You saw he was covered with numerous ugly scars. He reminded you of the monster the old women of your village warned about.

"Demons don't feel love or empathy, they're monsters. Bloodthirsty beasts who only want to quench their hunger."

When he let you go, you fell back to your knees. In an instant, your safe picture of the world crumbled into a million tiny pieces.

Tears slowly flowed into your eyes, but before they blurred your vision, you saw her body crumbling into dust.

Was that true or nightmare?

With nothing more to do for you, the man left. You didn't even notice, when he walked away from you. He left you alone to mourn your friend.

Although that's what he let you do.

Crying loudly, you didn't know what to do. You tried to lift her head, but you couldn't. You were still scared and shaking. You felt an invisible hand clutching your heart and throat as if it were about to crush them.

But you were still alive.

And she was falling apart right in front of you.

When the moon looked out from behind the thick clouds, you saw wet, shiny marks on her crumbling cheeks.

Are there good demons?

And when the sun came out of the horizon, there was nothing left of her but her bloody clothes. The only proof of what happened here.

After what happened and the mourning you shared with her family at the funeral, where you buried only her clothes, you wanted to know more.

You found out who white-haired man is and more about demons, but you didn't become a Demon Slayer.

The first ones killed your friend, the second hurt.

Since then, you've been trying to live your normal life, and you've started asking yourself...

Are there good demons?

You shake your head trying to get back to the present. That was long time ago, and you've get over with it, even though the memories still haunt you.

"I've brought some new seeds, but we'll probably plant them in the spring." You turned to the girl standing behind you.

She smiled at you gently nodding her head. Her silver hair swayed with her movement, reflecting the light of fire.

She looked amazing.

- - -

Your joint meeting was interrupted by a sudden knock and a vigorous shout of your name through the door.

It was Tanjiro Kamado.

Surprised by his visit, you went outside the cabin so he wouldn't see your guest. The snow fell quietly beneath your feet. In the mountains, winter came faster, and in the higher areas it can last even the whole year.

"Hello, Kamado-kun" you greeted him. The frost pinched your face and a small cloud of steam came out of your mouth. "What brings you here?"

"Ohayō!" Younger boy bowed to you. His nose, cheeks, and ears were fiercely red despite wearing a shawl on his head. "I thought you might be running out of coal and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Sweeten by his kindness and sincerity, you thanked him for his efforts. You both lived on the same mountain, but your cabin was on the other side. To reach it, he had to go down to the village, and then walk for a long time along a path circling the mountain before he started climbing again.

The road wasn't hard, but it was a long one, which is why you preferred to buy coal from him when you were downstairs so as not to bother him.

If you were alone, you'd have offered him in and tea. Maybe even the overnight stay, so he wouldn't have to come home in the dark and in the morning you would have escorted him to the village before you went to work.

"Oh, thank you. I'll pay you right away..."

You were reaching for your belt looking for a purse of money when suddenly he asked.

"Do you have a visitor?"

"Um, yes." You've been spin around trying to count the coins, but you've had a hard time doing it without feeling your fingertips.

You figured he must have sensed Mukago. The red-haired boy, as long as you can remember, had a perfect sense of smell. You wondered what exactly he sensed.

"The same one you took care of when she was sick?"

You nodded and didn't stop counting.

"What's she like?"

He asked unexpectedly. He knew a lot of smells, including the smell of human sadness, sorrow, or joy, but this one was completely new to him, so he couldn't determine who your mystery guest was.

"Oh, she's..." You've been thinking about trying to decide which term might best fit Mukago.

To a man-eating demon, who likes to wait for you in your attic. A demon who likes to watch you work on flowers and ask a lot of questions about them. A demon who, when she thinks you're asleep, strokes your hair or cheek gently.

"She's cute."

The boy nodded understandingly, knowing you were completely sincere. Then he stood with you for a while, trying to give you back some of the coins you gave him extra for coming all the way to your house, and you watched him leave happy.

The sun was half hidden behind the horizon and he didn't have time to get home before dark, but you weren't afraid for him. As far as you know, demons are very territorial, and Mukago's presence should deter weaker demons.

You didn't even think of the possibility that there might be a demon more powerful than her nearby...

But you weren't supposed to find out until the next morning from the other villagers and see two survivors disappear among the massacred bodies.

But that's not until tomorrow. Today, blissfully unaware, you returned to the inside of your home and your guest stiffly seated at your low table.

You could tell right away that she was more dreamy looking at you with her slightly spread lips showing white fangs, dilated pupils and...

You weren't sure, but is that the blush on her cheeks? She didn't hear you talking to Tanjiro, did she?

Right?

32 notes · View notes

your-lovely-rose · 4 months

Text

“They’re cute” Part 2/2 (Nakime || Request by @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme)

Rating: Explicit

General genre and genre for this part: Romance || Dark fic

Word count and reading time: ±15.8k (1h)

Pairing: (Biwa Demon) Nakime x Human!Reader

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death, Dead bodies, Desecration of a human corpse, Larvae and flies, Blood, Falling into madness, Jealousy and possessive behavior, Mental problems, Presented the character's past (from "Kimetsu no Yaiba Official Fanbook: Kisatsutai Kenbunroku 2"), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining, || NOT EDITED

Autor’s Note: Okay, so before you read this, listen to me, my reader. The reason why this Request is divided into two parts is that with Nakime I immediately filled the limit of 1k text panels. And also the previous part with Daki and Mukago was light, but here it will be very heavy and dark - I don't even know how it happened because it was supposed to be another fluff. All of them were supposed to be fluffy and light, and each of them with a maximum length of 3k words, of which Daki would be the longest (I expected 9k from the start)! I really have no idea what happened here... I swear! All of a sudden, I felt like it was boring, and I panicked a little bit, and then it got wild. After that I felt like it was boring again, and I kind of forgot the exact request that was... And this was created. I hope the characters aren't too OOC here. I will humbly accept any harsh criticism for this.

➵ “They’re cute” Part 1/2 (Daki & Mukago)

> Nakime Masterlist

➻ Little dictionary:

Zataku (座卓) - is the generic term for this kind of low table.

Hadajuban (肌襦袢, はだじゅばん) - are a type of kimono undergarment traditionally worn underneath the nagajuban. Hadajuban are even further removed from resembling a kimono in construction than the nagajuban; the hadajuban comes in two pieces (a wrap-front top and a skirt), features no collar, and either has tube sleeves or is sleeveless.

Jitō (地頭) - were medieval territory stewards in Japan. Appointed by the shōgun, jitō managed manors, including national holdings governed by the kokushi or provincial governor.

Okyia (置き屋) - residence maiko or geisha and may be inhabited by several of them. The first step of a woman, who wants to become a geisha is to accept in the okiya. The owner of the geisha house, okāsan (Japanese: "mother"), pays for the upkeep and training of their wards. In return, they give part of their earnings to support the house and other non-geisha residents. Okiya isn't a geisha workplace, they work in teahouses called ochaya.

Geisha (芸者) - in Japan, a woman with artistic skills, entertaining guests with conversation, dancing, singing and playing traditional instruments (e.g. shamisen, koto or shakuhachi). She can also conduct a tea ceremony (chadō) and she's as well-read as oiran. They dressed very modestly, but with taste and boasted sugao, i.e. face without makeup. In the opinion of the Japanese, they were considered the ideal of bijin ("beautiful woman"). Before a woman becomes a geisha, she must pass a six-year maiko period. If a geisha has a permanent partner, she must move out of okiya and okāsan can adopt a geisha. She then gains the privilege of a permanent resident of the house. Her debts to okiya are cancelled, but at the same time all of her income goes to upkeep of the house.

Knock, knock, knock.

A loud knocking sounded in Nakime's head. She knew everything that was going on at Infinity Castle.

She could hear the whistling of air as Kokushibo swings his sword when he practiced, the cries of Douma's victims from his Eternal Paradise as he fed and and where its dangerous snares also reached or the hundreds of footsteps of stray, weak demons wandering through her dimension.

It was her domain, her territory, her kingdom. Her world. She was in charge here, and nothing could surprise her.

And yet she didn't expect it.

She knew it was wrong and also that he knew it too. After all, she had His blood in her and could not hide anything from Him.

If he noticed something, he didn't pay attention to it. He was too busy with his tubes and the reactions going on in the glass vessels. For several hours he worked relentlessly mixing his blood with various substances and despite many failures he still managed to remain calm.

'Still' is the keyword here.

Because even he, after millennia of unsuccessful attempts, could finally lose his patience.

Before the knocking could irritate him, she tugged the strings of biwa and moved to another place, the old washitsu room, where her domain merged with the outside world.

So where?

Here, where the smell of blood and stale liquor still hovered. Here, where everything is familiar, though strangely different from what she has created herself with her art and sound.

And where she didn't like to be. This place confused her - filled her with many emotions that she thought she had buried deep and long time ago in her forgotten past, when she was still human.

Sitting straight on tatami mats, she looked around the traditional Japanese room as if it was her first time. There was not much in it: only a low table, at which still stood a clay glass for sake, and a pitcher lying next to it, the contents of which had spilled on the floor long ago.

The zabuton pillow, which she used to use while sitting and practicing on her beloved instrument, began to rot from spilled rice wine and large blood stains staining the floor around her.

The mats were completely ruined by it and had to be replaced, but this was no longer her problem. It belonged to her old life. Just like this house and the emotions it aroused in her.

Anger, grief and sadness all combine into one, giving her both headache and a tightening of abdomen. The smells irritated her nostrils and burning her esophagus.

She wanted to raze this house to the ground to cut herself off from her pathetic, weak, human self once and for all.

It was not her place now.

That woman was dead. She died in an alley by getting carried away in a sea of endorphins, blinded by pride and overestimated her abilities.

Did she really think she could hurt Him? Stupid, pathetic thinking of a weak human.

She lifted up her slender hand holding the wooden batchi pick tighter, ready to give a full show of her power until another knock pulled her out of trance again.

A quick "knock, knock, knock" sounded in the room this time, and it wasn't so loud when it was not only thundering in her head and had to overcome the distance to her in the air. Through the thin shōji door, she could see the shadow of the figure standing behind them in the rays of the rising sun.

She was about to pull the strings again to snagged the person standing at her door, but she heard how familiar voice called her by a name she no longer recognised, adding the honorary title '-sama'.

This voice... evoked a pleasant feeling in her chest, and before the eye of her mind appeared the image of a human. She could not remember the face, because it was shrouded in a thick mist of forgotten like so many elements of her past, but she knew where she remembered this person from.

This human used to come to her shows. Before she was transformed by Him, she made a living entertaining people with her music.

Although many people (traders, craftsmen) came to relax with the sounds of her instrument, she could not afford much at home. Most of her paycheck was taken by her husband...

He was a gambling addict.

And he lost. Time after time. One loss after another. Until finally he finally went too far, took something precious from her and lost it. That was the last straw.

A black-haired woman grabbed her head trying to interrupt the flow of memories. She plunged her sharp, blue nails into her long hair and unconsciously began pulling on them to distract her from them. Wanting to turn the bitter pain of past wrongs into physical.

She couldn't stand it and... What did she do?

Ah, yes.

She killed him.

Now she remembers it exactly. She used a hammer and smashed his head for losing her only kimono in which she could perform, and then she went on stage as usual.

In her head were the voices of people who began to mock her, and their howl hurt her ears. She felt their malicious, unfavorable gazes judging her poor, useless, holey clothes.

The only other kimono she found in the closet that could replace her previous one.

Although she was frightened and humiliated, she tried not to show it and humbly looked down to somehow escape, to separate herself from them, when her legs were heavy as lead, her feet were planted in the ground.

Then her eyes met the only friendly look. Its owner sat the closest to the wooden stage and did not show her the pity, that you feel for a pathetic dying animal. It would only humiliate her even more. He really felt sorry for her. Those eyes were so sweet and gentle. Looking at them from behind her dark bangs, she began to play.

The slender fingers, on which, despite the long friction and washing, she still felt warm blood, moved themselves along the long neck of the instrument, pressing the appropriate chords and getting out of it as much as she could.

The other hand was not left behind, pulling the strings and creating together an unusual composition, although inside her body she was trembling.

She was afraid they would know. That they might already figure out what she did. The tension in her rose and could be felt in her music. Her hands were shaking and sweat was all over her body, but she never stopped playing.

The sounds were as clear as a calm surface of water in a lake and spread throughout the room hypnotizing everyone.

Despite the loud tones of her biwe, she could hear the audience holding their breath at more tense moments or whispering quietly to each other, covering their mouths with their hands or paper fans.

She had nothing left - no kimono, no means of subsistence, no talent...

When she finished playing the first tune, she felt mentally exhausted. She waited for the first signs of discontent among the crowd, but they remained silent. Uncertainly, she looked up from the floor and saw everyone staring at her like enchanted.

A moment later, someone from the end of the room called for an encore, and the rest of the gathered people follow up him, and then everyone chanted for more and more.

Before anyone had time to notice, the night passed them all like a dream. It was... Her best performance so far.

Tired, but drunk with many applause and praise, panting heavily, she returned to her house. Where the smell of alcohol and blood still hovered.

Her hands were all numb and aching from squeezing strings, when the customers was still called for more. Even the owner asked her after the show if she would come the next night and paid her handsomely for her work. She's never made this much money for one show before.

She was planning on buying herself a new, better kimono tomorrow. Maybe even two.

However, when she got home, all her good mood with blush disappear, when she remembered her problems. Actually, the one that was still lying there like she left him all night.

She had no idea how to dispose of the body. Where would she possibly hide them? How long would it take to find them?

Without more thought, she undressed her last kimono and dragged the inert corpse to the other room, which had previously been her bedroom. There she covered them with a sheet and left them.

She was aware of the stench they were about to emit and what might happen to her in return, but she didn't think about it then.

She resisted them and tried to live as before. With an old rag she tried to wipe away the already dried dark stains of blood with tatami, but no matter how much and how hard she rubbed, they remained.

After bathing in the bowl - wiping herself with a damp piece of fabric, she pulled out another futon and lay down in the living room so she not to have to lie next to the corpse and as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell asleep. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon.

She had no dreams that night.

Still hoping for a better day, she got up late in the afternoon and, as she had planned, went out to buy a new outfit.

However, already on the threshold of the house she saw a parcel left at her door. The paper, in which the package was wrapped, rustled when she took it in her hands and after tearing a hole in it she saw inside a beautiful dark material.

It was kimono with silver thread embroidered patterns and multicolored flowers. Among them, she recognized red tsubaki, light pink sakura, purple sakurasou and white ume.

It was beautiful and certainly expensive. She thought it might have cost even more than her paycheck yesterday.

Who could have given it to her?

She'd been offered a patron or danna-san, but she wasn't a geisha. She never went to special schools and was never a maiko. And she's already married, which is unacceptable to a geisha.

Nor was she weak or pathetic enough to accept alms. She could take care of herself and earn money.

But unfortunately, when she returned to the venue in the evening full of energy, her performances were not as unusual as before...

Even though the place was full of people, even though she was wearing a new kimono - a simple, dark brown kimono that she bought the same day from an older woman who ran her own store - and she was calmer than last time, she didn't do so well.

No matter how hard she tried and how much her fingers hurt from the strings after all, she couldn't repeat the success of the night before.

When she finished the first song she looked at the crowd and saw people whispering to each other with disgruntled faces, and the owner looked at her with doubt. Among those closest to her, she even saw a few looking at her with worry written on their faces.

Hoping to improve the situation, she tried again and again, but it was... mediocre. And that was until she started getting nervous and making amateur mistakes.

Anxiety and cold sweat overwhelmed her more and more as she confused the chords or made unclean sounds by improperly pressing the strings. She didn't know what was going on.

Feeling like she was fooling herself, she finished her show earlier than the night before and left. Or rather, she ran away.

She had to get out, she just had to get as far away from them as she could. She felt small under the weight of their eyes and that she was suffocating from the tension.

On the way home, she heard someone calling her. She pretended not to hear the voice, but the pushy person stopped suddenly in front of her, consciously or not, blocking her way back home.

She recognized the person as a client from the place closest to the stage. This was the same customer, who was the only one who looked at her with compassion during her performance last night and today looked worried about her condition.

"May I have a moment?" You asked kindly, bowing and introducing yourself. You was still breathing heavily from running after her.

She think that you have to even fall in the mud, which could be indicated by your dirty clothes on the right side and your wet sleeve.

She didn't want to talk to stranger, but out of courtesy she decided to see what do you wanted from her.

"I saw your performance, and I'd like to ask... Is everything all right?"

"In what sense?"

"During the first performance, you came in a ruined clothes, and today..." You stopped, not knowing how to define today's fiasco.

"Everything is fine, please do not make any more insinuations."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," you said, trying to defend and not upset the woman even more. It wasn't your intention at all.

"So leave me alone now."

Nakime walked around you and was about to left you behind her back, but you showed up right next to her.

"Could I at least walk you home? It's dangerous to walk alone at night," you said, fall into step with her.

She only answered you with a short, sharp "no" and sped up her step even more. You did the same thing, getting on her nerves.

"Then may I at least ask why you did not wear that kimono?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, but she didn't slow down. She frowned in anger. "So it was you. I do not need anyone's pity or charity."

She said through clenched teeth and her fists until her fingernails left crescent moon prints inside her hand.

"Oh, no! No, that was never my intention! I would never dare!" You defended yourself by raising your hands to your chest as a gesture of submission.

"I do not need this. I can take care of myself."

"I just wanted to help..."

"It is not necessary."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was worried to see you like that. You've never performed like this before..."

Sweating from nerves and feeling the anger of a dark-haired woman, you slowed down until you finally came to a complete stop. She didn't do the same and didn't even notice your confusion. Your last words were echoing in her head.

Does that mean you've been coming to her shows for a long time? How much could you know about her?

After a moment of hesitation, you followed her a few steps after her. The night could be dangerous even for a single man, let alone a woman.

She heard rustling of your shoes on the ground, but she didn't stop to look at you again. She didn't want to pay attention to you, hoping you'd get bored soon.

In the end, you escorted her all the way home.

- - -

On the third night, when she again failed to reach the previous level with her performance, she started lost her mind again.

Everyone seemed to look at her with contempt or regret or as if they knew what she had done. In a hurry, she fled to her home, wanting to hide in the safe four walls as soon as possible, but even they did not give her comfort.

You walked her home quietly again. You haven't said a word to each other, and that's fine. Otherwise, she felt like she'd scratch your eyes out or pull your tongue.

She didn't understand what she had done wrong, why she couldn't play like she did then. Is there something wrong with her instrument? Or is it with her?

In desperation and to get rid of the excess of overwhelming emotions, she began throwing clay, decorative jugs and screaming. She did not know how much time she had spent demolishing the room, but when she finished, she was kneeling sweaty on the mats, breathless and on the verge of collapse.

She's been so busy she hasn't heard your quiet knock. She only noticed you after you asked her through the door if she was okay.

She told you to leave, and despite the silence, she wasn't sure if you'd listened to her.

- - -

The next day, she didn't go on stage. Nor the next one, or even the day after that.

She lay apathetic in the middle of the room among broken glass, her long hair looked like a big pool of black blood and listening to the sound of flies buzzing behind a thin wall. The body must have started to rot and give off that characteristic insipid sweet smell that had not yet reached her.

She didn't feel up to anything, even to eat or drink water. When she heard the silent knock, she thought it was just a dream.

Sleep was no longer her salvation and escape from reality. She felt threatened all the time during it and was even more tired after waking up, until she stopped sleeping. Time slipped her slowly as she saw changes in the light coming through the window under the very roof.

Soon after, she was no longer sure she was still trapped in her sleep. An endless nightmare she can't escape from.

Only after long hours, when finally the thirst began to overwhelm her, she get up to drink from the nearby well.

With a slight trembling on her limp and weak legs, she moved to the door and almost fell over the pitcher standing next to it. The vessel tipped over pouring water around. There was also a bowl with a clay lid on it.

Nakime barely sit on the ground. She got dizzy and feel foggy for a while, but she managed to come to her senses.

She lifted a warm lid, and the strong smell of spices and hot steam from her shoulder struck her face. Then she felt a pain in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't had anything in her mouth for a long time.

The bowl had ordinary ramen in it. The black-haired woman swallowed the saliva that flowed into her mouth and lifted the overturned jug with some water left in it. Unlike food, it was pleasantly cool moisturizing her dry throat.

She was about to start crying while she was eating. Food has never tasted so good.

Feeling better, she went home leaving empty dishes on the doorstep. She knew who brought it, and she expected you to come back.

The food was warm, which would indicate you were here recently. Did you come earlier to check on her, too? Were there any more meals? How did it feel to see that she didn't touch the food you brought?

She went to sleep again when she was full. She felt tired, but this time her sleep was peaceful. When she woke up, she felt better, so she decided to do something (although she was still weak).

She carefully collected the glass from the tatami mat and ate the scraps of food she found at home. With the money from the show a few days ago, she bought a big bag of rice and some meat in addition to a kimono, so she still had something to eat.

She hasn't touched any more of the dishes you left her. She was grateful for the meal earlier, but when she didn't need it, she wasn't planning on taking any help from you.

But she didn't spend the day just cleaning room and herself up. All this time, she was thinking too.

Why?

Why aren't her performances so good anymore? Why can't he play like that a second time? How was that show different from the others?

And when someone knocked on the door again, she came to the most frightening conclusions.

- - -

Fuku Ogawa stood at the shōji door of one of the houses. He picked up the dishes earlier that day, before it started to get dark. He was a butcher by profession and a friend of yours privately, so after you asked him to deliver the food here, how could he refuse?

Exceptionally, you couldn't do it in person right now. Well, these things happen sometimes - you have plans, but something came up, something happened, and you have to get out of the routine once or twice.

Fuku knocked on the door again. He heard a murmur behind them and the sound of silent footsteps. For a moment he felt a cramp in the abdomen - the discomfort that occurs when something is wrong. A slight anxiety gently fills our mind and body like poison.

Before he could do anything, the door opened and he saw in it a young, beautiful, but also tired woman. She had long, black, damp hair and pale skin. He saw a slight bruise under her eyes pointing to heavy nights and a black kimono with floral embroidery on it - he recognized them because you bought them a few days ago.

She looks surprised. It was certainly not him she expected to see outside the door, but there was nothing he could do about it. He introduced himself briefly and drew a bowl of food and jug of water towards her.

"Who are you?" she asked, ignoring the dishes in front of her. Instead, she grabbed the kimono with one hand and covered herself tightly. The other hand hung loosely, completely tucked into the sleeve.

"A friend," he said again short, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible. There was a slight, insipid smell coming out of the house, which he did not like and this woman make his hair stand on end.

"Could you take this inside?"

She asked and took a step back to let him come in. He didn't want to do it, he was uncomfortable with that woman, but he also didn't want her to accuse him of being rude.

He carefully entered without taking off his shoes and looked around the dark room. He didn't like the fact that there were no candles burning here and the only light that brightened a few meters in came from the full moon behind him.

"Put the dishes on the table."

He heard next to him. In the dim light on the other side of the room, he saw the outline of a low table and moved towards it, still holding the dishes in front of him.

But with every step he smelled a stronger scent in the house and heard the quiet buzz of insects. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn't tell from where.

Tap, tap, tap - her bare feet made on mats until she stood behind him. He could almost feel her heavier breathing on his neck and the smell of the perfume oils she used for her bath.

He was about to turn around and ask whether to bring some candles for her, if she didn’t have any (he just really wanted to get away from here as soon as possible, he wouldn’t come back here again for all the world) when a heavy object fell on his head.

In contrast, all turned white in front of his eyes from pain and he fell with a bang on a wooden piece of furniture, almost breaking it. The wood crackled silently in protest under his weight. The impact was so strong that he passed out almost immediately, but he was still barely conscious.

Then there was another and another. All he knew was what he got before he lost feeling and awareness of what was happening to him. With the remnants of consciousness, he finally knew what was the odor he smelled at home.

It was the smell of rotting meat.

- - -

Nakime kept hitting the man's head with a hammer until she got tired and left a bloody pulp. The remains of the man's hair and gray brain clung to her murder weapon, hand and also splashed on the zataku underneath.

She was trembling. Her breathing became heavier. She did it. Again.

She looked at the biwa standing on the other side of the room, illuminated by the light coming through the folded door. The strings in the cold light looked like silver thread of a spider. They lured her and summoned with their mute voices.

Now she has to go.

She must be in a hurry.

- - -

At night, you couldn't force yourself to show up at any place to have fun and relax a little. You didn't feel like it, even though some of your friends asked you to come.

They wanted to celebrate with you another big order to some remote place in the mountains. The locals were practically cut off from everyone else, which was perfect for you. Every month you were to send them three wagons with basic food and items - vegetables, flour, rice, spices, pasta, meat, materials and much more. You didn't ask where they got the money, it wasn't your part. What mattered was that they paid.

You liked to talk with them about a lot of things and eat with good music, but... you didn't want to. Why? You had your suspicions, even though you weren't entirely sure.

You've been up all night lying in your futon and flipping from side to side. Your head was still playing the tune of the biwa from a few days ago.

You felt thirsty in the desert. Like a drug addict in rehab. Like a believer who's starting to miss the presence of his God.

But what could you do when your only cure was gone?

Hours went by and you couldn't sleep. You couldn't think either, because your thoughts were filled with one person and their music.

You could've tried to run away until those feelings died off. Stop showing up in pubs, but how could you escape your own thoughts?

How could you hide from the part of you that loves her?

Loves her?

Yes, you could admit you admired her, but loves?

Surprised, you sat on the mattress and ran your hand over your face. You felt stupid. How old were you to fall in love like a naive teenager?

And yet the pleasant warmth inside you and the butterflies in your belly spoke for themselves. Even your friends noticed that you were different after that woman's performance. They teasing you for it, and you couldn't hide your red face or look them in the eye when you denied it.

Everyone thought she was new in town, but that wasn't true. You've noticed her long time before, because you liked her music, even if it wasn't outstanding.

You liked how she kept calm on stage and was always very restrained and elegant. If it weren't for her modest kimono, you'd think she belonged to the aristocracy.

You suppose that's when the feeling began to sprout inside you like a cherry blossom.

But when she showed up that night - terrified, haggard and wearing an old, torn kimono - all you wanted to do was go up to her and comfort her. Take her away from those eyes that surround her.

But then your eyes met and she started playing. She tugged the strings and as if at the touch of a magic wand all the stress and anxiety went away from her.

Then everyone else ceased to exist for you. You thought you and her were the only one in the room... No, in the whole Empire of Japan, or even in the whole world. It's just you and her.

Time stopped, and you could feel your heart beating with hers heavily breathe. Nothing else existed at that time - just you and her, and her music.

When she was done, the spell burst like a soap bubble. Suddenly other people appeared around you again and time went on its normal course.

Yes, it was then that the seed sown in your heart fully blossomed during that one song and gave birth to ripe fruit.

You listened to the rest of her performance breathless and with red cheeks, like she was playing just for you.

It was stupid to think so - she probably had no idea you existed, but there was nothing you could do about it. Everyone likes to dream and think they are special to someone.

So why should you be the exception? Besides, no one will know, it's just your thoughts anyway. Your own private place where you can hide when reality is too hard.

You opened the wooden shutters on a dark night. The moon was hidden far behind the clouds, and you couldn't even see the stars from here. In the background you could hear the quiet life of the insects and the sound of the wind running through the tall grasses.

She doesn't show up for some reason and she doesn't accept your presents.

When you gave her a kimono, you didn't mean to be rude or make it look like you felt pity for her. Same as when you brought her food. You really wanted to help her, but she was too proud.

You were worried about her.

You went out on the wooden engawa at the back of the house and sat down looking out over the meadows and the dark forest towers over the town.

If you wanted to, you could move to a bigger city. Maybe Osaka or Kobe? You could try your luck there. Open a new business of your own. Then maybe you could even afford an apartment in Tokyo? Or not, you don't think downtown would be a good place, it would be crowded. Maybe in one of its neighborhoods? Asakusa? Or Yoshiwara? You could meet a real Geisha or Oiran–...

"No, that's stupid." You scolded yourself in your thoughts. You'll act like a coward, and running away won't bring you anything, but a stain of pride and honor.

You'll keep thinking back here to her. Even if you leave, your heart will stay with her bleeding, because she won't even look at you.

The night was peaceful and quiet. The noise and singing of the wind dancing among tall grasses and branches of trees suppressed other sounds.

Your night passed slowly, looking at the full silver moon as it came out from behind the thick clouds.

Smelled like before the rain. Fuku would say, looking at a scene like this, it's going to be a tragedy. He's always been very superstitious.

But you were here alone.

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

You thought you heard her music from afar, but it was too quiet to be considered real.

- - -

The next morning, your friend find you in front of the house. Initially, you expected to see drunk Fuku, who liked to visit you at any time and was sometimes in a state of intoxication before noon.

Did he have some work today? He was a hedonist, but he was also responsible enough not to drink before job.

But no, it was Kiyoshi Hirano. A clerk. You invited him in and offered to make some tea.

"I just came to tell you that your friend with the biwa is back. You've been a little sad because of her lately..."

"What?" you turned to him with a clay jug. The movement was so fast that the right water poured out of the spout of the dish.

"Last night," he began slowly watching your face. "I was waiting for Fuku, where we used to meet to have a drink when she appeared on stage and started her performance again. She was... good. Looks like her lucky streak's back."

"Really? Do you think she will play tonight?"

You put the teapot in the cupboard where it was before, completely forgetting about the tea, and walked up to Kiyoshi again. You didn't notice his serious look and how closely he watched your brightened face.

"I don't know, I guess so. After all, it's what she does for a living." He interrupted your next question with a hand gesture. "I'm not going there today."

"Why?"

You were surprised by his cold reaction. He seemed angry or concerned about something.

"I'm going to check on Ogawa-san. I didn't see him yesterday and he still didn't show up today. From what I see, he's not here either."

"No, he's not here," you repeated deafly. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Did he say something? What he was planning or where he was going?"

"No, I don't remember anything like that."

"Yhm. So nothing here for me. If you remember anything or see him, let me know."

"Something happened?"

"No, nothing. It's just my stupid hunch. But if I don't find him, I'll go to jitō."

Jitō was the deputy owner of the land on which your town was located. He was supposed to watch over his goods and peace, if a problem arose he had to solve it.

You just nodded at that. You didn't understand his concern about Fuku, you saw him yesterday, and he was fine.

"Okay, so be it. I hope to see you both at the show tonight."

"I hope so too."

He said grimly unconvinced and turned his back on you.

- - -

The orange sun had not yet hidden behind the horizon and you were already sitting in a local restaurant, at one of the tables closer to the stage.

People were elegantly dressed, some even more than was required stepping inside and taking their seats. It wasn’t a real okiya, so you didn’t quite understand their efforts to pretend to be better than they were, but you had no intention of pointing it out to them.

It was quiet. Conversations were conducted in a whisper. Glasses were not brought in toast. You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.

Finally, after a time that seemed to last an eternity. After the sun and its last rays resembling the hands of a drowning man reaching out for help disappeared from the sky, covered by the deep black of the great scape filled with millions of stars, she appeared.

She wasn't looking at anyone. She did not wander around the room with her eyes like a frightened doe. She just took her seat and started playing.

And the music itself was flowing from under her fingers. The sharp notes flooded their all minds.They could not think of anything else, everything outside was in the background. It was just her and them. Her audience.

After the performance was over, there was thunderous applause. Everyone wanted more and more. As we can see, she returned in grand style.

You also listened enchanted. You didn't care that Kiyoshi didn't join you all night. You didn't even notice it. The world outside this room no longer existed.

- - -

"I'm going to the jitō," Kiyoshi told you when you met him buying rice and asked him why he was dressed solemnly.

"Business?"

The man looked at you in surprise, tilting his head as if he wanted to ask if you were kidding.

"I told you I'd go there if I didn't find Ogawa-san anywhere. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Oh, no. Maybe a little. I'm sorry."

"Yes, I can see it," he squinted, looking at you critically.

"Have you been at his place to see him?"

"It was the first place I visited. I asked his neighbors if they had seen him, but no one has seen him since he left for work two days ago."

"Then I guess he's not at the slaughterhouse either."

"Exactly."

"Listen, why don't you wait one more day? We'll go to the jitō together if he's still gone. Perhaps he's lost his way back, because he is drunk again."

Although improbable, such situations have happened. One time he took the wrong directions and tried to get into someone's house. The landlord of the house beat him hard, and for a week he walked around with a swollen face and purple bruises all over his body. Another time, he fell asleep in a truck loaded with bags of rice and was driven kilometers from here.

Although Hirano was unconvinced, he accepted your offer and you spent the rest of the day together.

In the evening, you went to your favorite place to eat with music. You only managed to get in because you came earlier - soon after sunset there was such a crowd that no one else could enter.

You saw Kiyoshi looking for your friend, but he didn't even see anyone even remotely resembling him.

When your food were served, she went out on stage. As always, she moved gracefully and without unnecessary movements, as if she knew that part by heart.

The long black hair fell before her face like a funeral veil. She was still wearing a simple brown kimono, and you were a little disappointed that she dismissed your present with contempt.

She raised a pale hand with well-groomed nails holding a wooden bachi pick. The sleeve of the kimono slid down her arm, revealing more of her slender body and silky skin.

You almost fell back into that stunning trance hypnotized by her music when something discreetly pinched your thigh. It was Kiyoshi. He seemed worried.

Surprised at his behaviour, you raised your eyebrows didn't understand.

"Blood," he whispered. His mouth tightened into a line after he repeated it. "She's got blood on her clothes."

And when you looked at the musician you could see how under the kimono, where the collar around her neck covered part of the white hadajuban was a small red spot. If you had sat further away you would never have seen it.

"It could be anything. Maybe she got dirty?"

"Maybe," he admitted grinding his teeth and not taking his eyes off her. Focusing on a small, meaningless speck. "Or maybe not. It will be revealed. Remember, we still haven't found Fuku."

For the rest of the evening, he didn't speak to you, looking for your friend. You too could no longer focus on the music and let yourself be carried away by the pleasant atmosphere - the stain on her collar was bothering you.

What if someone attacked her? What if there's a dangerous animal in the area? Or a madman? What if something could happen to her?

Your restless thoughts rushed more and more as wild mounts were let loose into the increasingly unpleasant, dark recesses of your mind where irrational fear and unlikely scenarios ruled.

But you still haven't found Ogawa-san, have you?

True, but maybe he just got lost again. Maybe he's tired and sleeping at home now. Maybe it's all one big misunderstanding. Maybe the stain on her collar isn't blood.

Maybe.

- - -

The next day, as soon as the sun rose, you set off with Kiyoshi to Fuku's house. You wanted to be absolutely certain, and according to your comrade's supposition, he wasn't there.

Everything looked as usual. There was a bit of a mess inside, but it was nothing disturbing or new. Ogawa was not one of those who paid attention to where he lived.

The futon, instead of being tucked into a closet, lay on the side of the large room with a blanket rolled up into a ball, as if it had just wake up. Around the room stood many pots of sake, which he did not want to throw away, and other things that he probably used lately.

Yeah, it was a mess, but it wasn't unusual.

"Let's go ask the neighbors," you said quickly leaving the house and not looking at Kioshi.

He managed to stop you by grabbing you tightly by the shoulder.

"I already told you, I did it."

"So what now?"

"We can only go to the jitō and he will hire samurai to guard the security. I think that's all we can do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, for now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I want to know what happened to Fuku. They won't be looking for the missing." He paused for a moment, feeling his anger rising. "They'll just try to prevent more disappearances. They don't care abo–"

Suddenly he stopped before his voice broke completely and then you noticed how tightly he clenched his fists. As he tries to stop the tears in his eyes and not let them flow down his cheeks.

You... You didn't know he was in such pain. That he feels that way.

You felt guilty that you didn't care more about your friend's disappearance, that you didn't start looking for him right away. That the first person you were worried about when you heard about his disappearance wasn't him, but was someone else.

"Listen Kiyoshi," you started insecure. "I want to hel–"

"No." He cut you of. "You would only be in my way, I prefer to work alone."

"Oh... okey."

You agreed, but you were hurt that your friend wouldn't let you join his investigation and also didn't want to argue with him. He was smart, so you knew he could handle it.

"Ah, and one more thing."

He added before you left the house. That was the last time you saw him, but none of you knew it yet.

"Stay away from that woman. Please."

• • •

The man decided not to involve you knowing how distracted you've been lately. Because of that musician, you couldn't concentrate, and you missed a lot of obvious things.

He was no longer just talking about a bloodstain or a lack of concern about Ogawa.

Yesterday, following the woman from a safe distance (so she could not hear you), he noticed that she was not afraid to travel alone through a dark town or wooded area.

It turned out that she did not live in even on the outskirts of the city, but in a village about an hour away on foot.

She never turned around to see if anyone was following her, and that should be a natural reaction for anyone traveling alone in areas where disappearances occur. Especially women, who are inherently weaker than men.

Almost everyone is talking about the disappearance of Fuku - together with a local vet, he had to help assess whether the animal is suitable for curing or going for slaughter.

Local traders and meat farmers ask about him because he was the cheapest specialist in his trade.

If there were any rivers nearby they could be turned to fish, but within a radius of many kilometers there was none and the delivery could cost them a lot.

Sometimes local doctors needed his help when the only way to save their patients was to amputate a limb.

Did Fuku practice on dead animals for fun, or is the profession of butcher and doctor so similar? He didn't know, and he never wanted to ask.

So what could have happened before he disappeared? And how could a musician you love have anything to do with this?

Unlike Ogawa-san, he was not superstitious or relying on mere hunch, but when he looked at the dark-haired woman he saw cold sophistication in her eyes.

Why a woman traveling alone in the dark didn't fear an attack?

Did she have any weapons on her? Or did she know something that others don't? Maybe she knew she had nothing to fear.

Another thing that caught Kiyoshi's attention was the strange smell around her house.

After "walking" her home safely, he ordered to come closer. Kiyoshi wanted to investigate the source of the scent. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was already determined to solve the mystery.

He knew that the more days passed, the chance of finding a friend alive dropped drastically. His mind said he was probably dead, but deep down he still hoped of finding him alive.

It's silly how emotions can affect a person's logical thinking and behavior, but there's nothing he can do about it.

After all, he was only human.

Standing in front of her door, he listened to all kinds of sounds from inside, but there was complete silence. The only thing disturbing it was the sound of buzzing wings of flying insects.

Something sat on his hand and automatically killed the bug. He couldn't see what it was, it was too dark for that, but the next one sat on his forehead and another flew past his ear.

Flies?

You tried, slightly confused by his prying behavior, to pull him away, but he just went to the back of the building where the smell intensified.

"Kiyoshi, please sto–"

"Shhhh, be quiet and help me."

"Wha–?"

"Don't talk, just stand against the wall."

He cut off the conversation quickly so the woman couldn't hear you two and showed you where to stand.

In the dim moonlight, he saw a triangular window under the roof. Because the houses in the village were not tall, he could look through them, but he still needed help to reach it.

"Look, I don't think–"

"Shhhh."

You stood straddle and folded your hands, so he could put his foot on it. Then, with a slight swaying, he jumped on your shoulders.

"But listen, I don't–"

"Shhh, ladders don't talk!"

Holding on to the old boards, he tried to find something he could hold on to. Any holes or roughness.

"Stop fidgeting!"

He rebuked you in a whisper almost falling.

"Then don't stand on my head!"

When he stopped wobbling, you grabbed his ankles harder and at his signal, you slowly began to straighten up. Unfortunately, he still didn't reach the window.

He couldn't even pull himself up because he was still missing quite a bit with his hands stretched forth.

"And what? Do you see anything?"

You asked, in disbelief. Did you just help your friend 'peep at' spy on a woman?

"I really don't like what we're doing. Are you listening?"

But Kiyoshi didn't listen. He was mentally preparing for what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath. Then another one, and curled his knees trying not to fall. If he fails, he'll break his leg or arm.

The moment he jumped up, you walked away from the building. He grabbed the edge of the window and the old wood under his weight crackled in protest - they sounded like they were about to break.

At first he wanted to curse you for it, but suddenly he heard footsteps coming from the other side.

You were too loud.

"Is anyone there?"

A harsh female voice spoke up and he froze. He heard you burst through the bushes surrounding the house, rushing to the nearby trees and she stopped just below him.

Time stopped for a man then. Seconds turned into centuries. Flies flying around him sat on his hands and face, tickling him by thier little legs as they walked on him and bit his bare skin.

To keep them from getting up to his nose, he hid his face in a long sleeve, praying that the wood would stand up and that she would not look up.

The black-haired, looking like a yokai in front of her house, stood there for a moment watching the backyard. Long grass could reach her hips - her husband didn't care much about anything but gambling and alcohol, and none of her neighbors ever had the idea of trying to cut down the plants before they became miniature version of the wilderness for rodents and other small animals.

She was sure she heard the conversation, and the tread in the grass clearly indicated someone was here.

Or was it just her imagination? Maybe she's going crazy? Is it possible the smell of carcass lured the predators?

Still, she should be more careful and dispose of the bodies.

When she finally got back inside, Kiyoshi's arms couldn't hold him longer and he let go. He managed to land on his feet, but he leaned back and fell out of the engava into the sticky mud, which with the thick and long grass cushioned the impact like a pillow.

Scared, that she might come back, he quickly hid under wooden porch to wouldn't get caught, but this time he probably didn't make so much noise, because she never showed up again that night.

Unfortunately, he couldn't pull himself up to look inside nad he wasn't even sure if the moonlight allowed him to see anything.

He liked to think of himself as a rational person and more intelligent than the common man based on his intuition, but the smell was too suspicious.

Maybe it's feelings, but he believed that if anyone could know anything about Ogawa's disappearance, it would be her.

He couldn't ask her directly. He'd just freak her out and she'd do something unpredictable. After all, a trapped animal is ready to do anything to survive.

• • •

The next afternoon, Kiyoshi left the house and instead of going to work, he went straight to the jitō that controlled the surrounding area.

He was a clerk, so his request might have meant more to him than to an ordinary farmer.

Personally, he didn't like Hiroto Sasaki.

He got this job only by acquaintance with the landowner and did the necessary minimum of his work - all the money from taxes (which he did not pay to the landowner) was spent on alcohol and courtesans. He often hosted parties for friends in his home and did not care about the problems of the inhabitants.

People often asked him to stand up for them because otherwise he wouldn't even let them in or send them back home.

Kioshi did not have time to take three steps from the gate when an older, stooped woman approached him (as fast as her rheumatism allowed).

She had grey hair tucked into a low bun and a face full of wrinkles showing how her life was filled with both, happiness and worry. Her hands were resting on a long stick that must have helped her on her way here.

"Hirano-sama?" She asked in a quiet voice full of sadness and her half-blind eyes were even sadder. She bowed slightly to him. The man bowed and asked what she had to do with him.

"You see... My son, Kai, went missing yesterday. I can't find him and he's my only support after my husband's death."

"I see, so what can I do?"

Although he asked, he already knew the answer and with even greater determination went to the jitō headquarters to solve the problem.

One of the servants, whom he had managed to meet during his few visits, led him to the back of the mansion.

There, a fat man dressed in gold and surrounded by comfort women, was eating sweets and fruits.

In the background on biwa played them a geisha, sitting under a cherry tree - delicate petals of flowers swirling around her added her femininity and grace.

Kiyoshi, however, shuddered when he saw her resemblance to Nakime from afar. He probably would never have thought that she looked like her up close, but he still hadn't snap out of after yesterday's close encounter with her.

He did not want to look at her, but the sounds constantly emitted by the instrument remind him, that she is there, not allowing to gather thoughts and relax tense muscles ready to fight or escape.

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sasaki hated Hirano. He thought the clerk always poked his nose into his business and added jobs to him. He hated his visits, but his uncle (and the owner of the land he managed) ordered him to let him in because he had already met Kiyoshi by himself.

He said his remarks were accurate and he was able to listen to people. He thought he'd be a good right-hand man for Hiroto, but he knew he was doing better on his own.

The clerk refrained from roll his eyes hearing him and immediately told about the disappearances and pointed out, if the situation doesn't change, they could suspect either a wild dog attack or a serial killer in the area.

"And what do you think I can do about it?"

"Bring the samurai."

He answered without hesitation, instantly enraging the jitō. The fat man blushed so much with anger, he looked like a tomato.

The glass of saki he threw at Hirano luckily passed above his head and crashed somewhere on the rocks behind his back. All he felt was a few drops of alcohol drenching his clothes.

"What do you think you're proposing? Whose money?! Do you think I have no expenses?!"

"Maybe from the taxes we pay you?"

Only the quiet sound of the wind in the branches of the old trees answered him in their own language and the birds singing in them.

The geisha stopped playing as soon as the clay vessel was broken, but even the man, sitting on a chair resembling the emperor’s throne, fell silent.

The clerk, bent all the time, raised his head slightly to see how Hiroto calmed down and turned pale.

As he suspected - all the money went to his and his friends debauchery.

"If you don't think it's appropriate or unnecessary, I can always write a letter to–"

He couldn't finish because Sasaki came to his senses.

"No. There is no need for that. Starting tomorrow, I'll bring in someone to keep an eye on things."

Several times in the past, Kiyoshi threatened to write to his uncle, but it had to be a complete last resort, because he knew Hiroto would be willing to hire an assassin for him.

Not feeling completely satisfied, he had to agree and let go.

He would rather Sasaki did it today (since many samurai looking for new masters to serve recently), but he also knew that after spending all the money that idiot had to somehow get them now.

He could only hope that by tomorrow there would be some samurai in the area.

• • •

As the sun went down, Hirano was already watching the musician's house from afar. He waited for her to come out, so he could sneak in.

She went out to the perform practically every night, so Kiyoshi knew he should soon see her leaving the building and walking along the sandy road.

And an hour after sunset, a woman appears at the door and stands on a wooden engave looking around the neighborhood. Her eyes were scouring the yard like she was looking for something or waiting for someone.

With loose hair and a black kimono, she looked like a yokai demon.

But he didn't understand why she hadn't left yet. Did she know she was there?

No, it's not possible. He made sure he couldn't be seen by her.

So why?

Suddenly, incredibly brisk for a woman of her small stature, she took a large package wrapped in fabric and ran to the back of the house.

What could be in the package, which she was secretly trying to get rid of? She hid letters from her admirers from her jealous husband? She gave birth to an unwanted baby? Or maybe the murder weapon?

The clerk planned to approach there, but also preferred to wait until she went to work. He didn't want to get caught again, and he was afraid it might be a trap.

That she could watch the backyard from the window, and when she saw him, she'd attack him with something. Although Nakime was a woman, he preferred not to underestimate her, especially since their last meeting had completely frightened him.

So he waited.

And he waited all night.

However, she did not go out again and after sunrise - when farmers began to go out to look after animals and crops - he left.

• • •

During the day, Kiyoshi could no longer watch her - as an clerk he had his duties and had to be careful not to fall asleep.

But it wasn't an easy day for him.

Once he poured black ink from the inkpot, staining the sleeve of a silk kimono, and flooded the papers lying next to it. Or he also had to re-read documents a few times because he couldn't concentrate.

He felt completely exhausted, although he didn't feel that way coming here. Tiredness began to catch up with him.

He looked forward to the sunset indicates the end of his work. The steady sound of rain hitting wooden walls or ceramic tiles made him even more sleepy, and he hoped it would clear up by then.

And as soon as it changed from a sad, grey sky to a blood-red color, he immediately went out. There were large puddles everywhere and it still smelled of rain after a few hours, so he took one of the umbrellas with him.

He hoped that someone hired by the jitō would show up during the day to get a map of the area, but no one showed up.

Neither samurai nor any local villagers he would hire to save money.

As he walked, he could hear Fuku's disapproving voice in his head, who, looking at the sky, would say, "Someone good will die today, the sky and the gods are in mourning."

Many times then he looked at him with a sly smile trying not to taunt him after by quoting his grandmother, but now he misses his superstitions.

How much he would give to be able to sit with him and you on an engava and look up at the sky, drinking sake after work and celebrating the start of the day off.

He came to his home first. He wanted to change into darker clothes, so she couldn't see him.

He was hoping she'd leave the house tonight to perform. If not, he's gonna try to look around the back of the building to see what she's hiding.

Kiyosji looked at the unfolded futon, which he didn't hide. It looked so appealing that he lay down on it for a while - after all, she didn't come out with the sunset anyway. He still had time.

And with that thought - he fell asleep.

- - -

He woke up when it was completely dark. Afraid he was running late, he ran towards her house. If he showed up too late, he wouldn't know if she left.

The run didn't last long, he didn't like to practice. If it weren't for his limp stature, you probably never would have been able to hold him on your shoulders.

Intermittently, he switched once from running to marching and his wooden shoes loudly let the surrounding residents know that he was in a hurry. He was panting heavily, like a wounded animal and he could feel that he had fire in his lungs, but he would not stop.

At least until a black-dressed figure stood in his way.

Nakime walked slowly, holding her precious instrument in her hands. One of the sleeves completely concealed her hand, which surrounded the body of the instrument like a mother hugging a child.

Unbelieving (and feeling goose bumps on his sweaty body) he stopped to catch his breath.

The woman passing him did not even look at him.

He looked at her for a moment - she, as if feeling it, stopped and turned completely to face him. A distance of 20 meters separated them, but for him it was still too small.

They stood in silence waiting for any movement of the other person until they were interrupted by a man in armor.

Samurai.

"So this useless pig did something useful at least once." Thought kiyoshi

The man approached the musician and asked if everything was all right, looking suspiciously at Kiyoshi. He was not surprised, but he was still outraged.

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

She calmly replied him. Her voice was serious, but pleasing to the ear.

There was also an aversion to the samurai, who had to put on heavy armor just for the show - it was impractical if he came to chase someone lighter and would only slow him down.

After a while, each of them went their way - Nakime to the restaurant, he headed towards her house, and the man watched them.

He was probably making sure Kiyoshi didn't hurt her.

But that's good, because now he's sure he won't get attacked from behind and the house is empty.

Suddenly he realized he was more and more convinced of her guilt, although he had never approved of hasty judgments. He believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law or evidence was found to point to the culprit.

Meanwhile, what did he have? Terrible smell coming out of her house and strange behavior. In the past, it wouldn't have been enough for him to pass judgment, but since Fuku's disappearance, his thinking has changed completely.

Standing in front of her house, Hirano stopped and began to listen. The only thing that could be heard from inside was the noise of a flock of flying flies on which the sound he trembled. He hated all kinds of insects, but he forced himself not to vomit or run away.

The odor's gotten worse since the last time he was here, and he had to put a long sleeve on his nose and mouth. He must have blocked it somehow.

It didn't help much.

He planned to get in and out quickly. The building wasn't big, so it couldn't have taken him long.

The door was not locked - probably the smell itself discouraged entering.

Inside, he left them open so the faint moonlight would illuminate this room. He saw the outline of a low table and two seat cushions. In the corner of the wall with the door, there was something white that he thought was bedding.

But in the current light, he couldn't recognize the huge stains on the tatami mats. He needed a candle.

Holding his breath from time to time, he searched the few cabinets inside and found some hidden next to a bag of rice along with a flint.

Satisfied that he managed so well, he started hitting stones against against each other and watched as the sparks light up the room for a moment until he managed to ignite the wick.

What he saw next made his heart stop and all the color drained from his face, making him look like a ghost. At the moment, although he was alone, he felt threatened and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He felt like a deer on a hunt.

Blood was everywhere. Dark stains covered the floor at the table, one pillow and led into the other room behind the shōji door.

On the table he saw overturned white sake glass, also stained with blood, and nearby there was a jug in which there was still some alcohol.

Feeling his body getting heavy he moved into the other room and when he reached out to open the door, he saw that he was trembling. There, the smell and the sound intensified like a warning not to go in.

He was afraid of what he'd see, but he had to...

With one quick move, he opened the door. It slammed and the smell hit him in the face with double force, pinching his eyes. Flies immediately sat on him, looking for something to eat, biting his exposed skin and drinking sweat.

There, in the middle of a small room, were two bodies. He saw the white larvae moving in what used to be the heads of the wretchs, and how far the rotten process had gone.

He couldn't hold out and threw up. It was too much for him. He had to get out. Now. Immediately.

But he didn't even have time to take a step because as soon as he turned around, the hammer hit him in the face, smashing his completely nose and knocking out his teeth.

Through the black spots appeared before his eyes, Kiyoshi saw a figure in front of him and then fell, when she hit him a second time, falling into the death chamber. He managed to block the blow with his hand and heard a loud crack of a broken branch.

He didn't think about it then, but that was the sound of his broken fingers. Because of the adrenaline, he couldn't feel it now.

Unfortunately, he didn't see anything else. The candle fell out of his hand and went out.

He felt a weight on his stomach as the woman sat on him and tried to hit him on the head again. He was still covering himself by his wounded arm and trying to get it off her somehow, but she was too heavy for him.

He hoped that someone would hear his scream and come to help him, because at every moment he weaken.

But no one came, and another body was found in Nakime's room. Now she's done her ritual and she is ready to perform.

- - -

The venue was buzzing of impatient voices. All the gathered people were looking forward to the arrival of their favorite musician, who rarely made herself time off. The long-haired woman hypnotized with her music, causing clients to come back for more.

Her fame quickly spread around the area and it became harder and harder to find a place inside. You had to come a few hours earlier to listen to her melody.

Because of this, some (those who never heard it and just wanted to eat) thought it was stupid. They didn't understand and called her audience fools.

And you were one of those fools. You're in front of the stage again, waiting for her to perform like a dog for a treat. Despite your most sincere attempts to stop or listen to your friend, you could not stop coming. She was like a drug.

Every time you've seen her, you've felt the butterflies in your belly start to dance inside and your mind becomes incredibly light, like when you're drunk with alcohol. But you didn't drink sake so you wouldn't be distracted and fully enjoy the performance.

But today she still hasn't shown up. People began to get impatient and the owner of the premises upset - thanks to her his income increased significantly and if she decided to change workplace meant problems for him.

Some of the guests left mad, and some started wondering out loud where she was. At some point, they started chanting her name, thinking it would make her suddenly show up.

You'd probably be the last person to leave this place and still wait a few more hours for her.

You missed her and her music during the day, waiting for the night to see her again.

But you didn't have to because she finally showed up.

She was wearing a black kimono that you once gave her, but something that caught your eye and prevented you from fully enjoying the performance was the numerous tearing of the material that you seemed to be the only one to see.

• • •

Nakime came home in the morning at her regular time. She was fine, both physically and emotionally, despite the scratches on her forearms and the bruises on her abdomen caused by that burglar. Even a not-so-pleasant meeting with a neighbor did not dampen her spirits.

An old woman called her attention to yesterday's noise and said she already thought her husband was dead. Until recently, quarrels and shouts in their home were standard fare.

It was supposed to be a joke, but she didn't even know how much of it was true. She also told musician to take care of the horrible smell coming out of her house.

She didn't care much about her as she was about yesterday's guest.

She did the right thing coming home. Meeting the samurai made her feel a little insecure and afraid of detection - killing someone outside meant more risk.

She wanted to go back and keep trying to dispose of the bodies. Although they made her nauseous, she found the willpower to cut them into pieces and wrapped in her previous kimono.

She finally appreciated the clothes you gave her because you can't see the blood stains on them. But she felt that if she came out on stage all covered in blood, no one would even notice - everyone was mesmerized by her music.

Sighing, she undressed and went to bed. Then maybe she'll try to get rid of the body parts again.

It was a tedious and difficult task. She had to do it in such a way that the origin of the meat could not be determined immediately.

But she was glad she took care of it because otherwise she wouldn't have found the footprints and other tracks behind her house suggesting an unwanted presence.

She was sure it was her night visitor, but who was the other person? Why didn't they come together?

A normal person would feel scared in a situation like this, but after tonight, Nakime felt invincible. The power she had and the impunity with each subsequent murder made her as drunk as alcohol. She became more and more confident and less cautious.

But she now fell asleep without fear.

- - -

Her work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Her fingers and wrist hurt from cutting hardened cartilage, and her knees from long kneeling.

She got up unstably and washed her hands in a bucket of cold water before she opened the door.

Is it that crazy old lady again? Anybody else in the neighborhood who's bothered by the smell? Maybe it's a samurai?

But it wasn't any of them.

That was you.

You stood insecurely, holding a package wrapped in brown paper in your hands. You didn't look her in the eye. Instead, you focused on the floor.

You took small, short breaths to somehow bear the stench from inside, but you did not make a face. You asked if you could come in and talk.

Nakime moved away from the door to let you in. She tried not to show it, but she was glad you came - she was shaking all over her body at the thought of smashing your head and going to perform again in the evening.

You stood in the middle of the room, and the setting sun lit the room for a moment until she quickly closed the door and darkness set in. She didn't have any open windows here.

"I know everything," you started before she had a chance to come up to you. She quietly took the hammer lying on the cabinet near the door.

"And on the one hand, I didn't want to believe it, I've been denying it all the time... But I can't do this anymore. It rips my heart between what I should do and..."

"What do you mean?" She asked, but she wasn't interested in your answer. She just want you to didn't turn around for a second.

Nakime was standing right behind you with a hammer ready to strike.

"You are the murderer, aren't you? You killed Fuku and Kiyoshi..."

Suddenly you turned around when she had her tool raised and made her hesitate. It gave you the precious second to grab her wrist and lowered it, asking her to talk for one more minute longer.

"I should turn you in, but I can't," you confessed. "I'm hurt by what you did and it will never stop, but for some reason I can't do anything against you."

Your voice broke. She was so close now, she saw you were on the verge of mental breakdowns.

"Please tell me what I should do. If you think it's best to kill me, do it and put an end to my torment."

For a moment she didn't know what to say. She felt she should end it with one punch, but instead she told you to leave.

She didn't like the new kind of arousal caused by your confession, the fluttering of her heart or how the blood came up to her cheeks. She felt she was getting a fever because of you. Her legs are even weaker than they were before.

"Then you'd better kill me," you said firmly, surprising her. "Because I can't live without you–your music."

You were too embarrassed by what you said, so you quickly added the first thing that came to your mind. You were hoping it was too dark to see your blush.

But she couldn't bring herself to lift the hammer anymore. When was the last time she felt that way? If ever it must have been a long time ago.

"Get as far away from here as you can," she began in an imperiously tone. "And come back exactly ten years from now, if you still feel the way you feel, you will come back here and I will play only for you."

And you left her with a bleeding heart after an indescribable loss. Nakime thought she was merciful to you, she condemned you to an even worse fate than if she had killed you - from now on you will carry her sins on your back, the betrayal of your friends and miss her for each of the 3 652 days.

Awareness of all this will not allow you to sleep peacefully. Her absence prevents you from eating and function normally. Losing your friends isolated you.

You never stayed anywhere longer after that, looking for your place and running away from that house at the same time.

She was both, your cure and curse.

- - -

You went to her show last one time and left the next morning with the first rays of sunshine.

Nakime put on another kimono, that you brought her - simple, black, because you noticed she doesn't like glamour and extravagance.

In the full light of the room, she could see how the events of the last few days had affected you. You were pale, lost weight and had big bags of sleeplessness under your eyes.

You looked like a shell of your former self.

It gave her the thought that now you belong to her - she will never leave your mind or heart and will be your only one. For the rest of your days, even though you're not together, she will haunt you in your life as a ghost of the past, when you awake and in your dream.

For some reason, she liked the power she had over you.

The melody of that day was very sentimental and passionate. The performance was definitely different and even better than usual. Some felt goosebumps and coldness during climax moments, and wiped away tears at the slower ones.

It wasn't just music meant to show her talent and entertain the audience - it had a message behind it. And everyone felt it.

It was her goodbye to you.

People talked about it for a long time after you left, hoping she'd do it again, but she never did. Her fame came as far as you ran away, haunting you and never letting you forget your sin of silence.

You pretended not to hear and didn't speak up when the subject of a genius musician was raised. All the venues, where the music played you avoided like the plague.

After you left, she felt like she lost something, looking at the table you used to always occupy. She also became even more ruthless in her actions, which led to her demise.

This one time she chose the wrong person, because he could not be called a human, and gave her a new life as a demon.

You, looking for relief after a few years, ended up with one of your clients. A platinum blonde with rainbow eyes greeted you with open arms after seeing your condition.

His closed community was located in a remote area in the mountains. People there like you were broken and destroyed by life or loved ones.

And what it meant to you, they've never heard of her or her music.

Honestly, it didn't surprise you that most of them were women, inherently weaker physically than men. They couldn't defend themselves, so they always had to run away and hope they'd be better off somewhere else.

Every time the Founder called you a "poor thing", you felt like you were getting goosebumps and when he looked at you with those sad eyes, you thought something was wrong. Like he's faking it.

But it used to be, because with your current state, you didn't care.

You felt a slight discomfort associated with the honor of eating in his private chamber, but he did not seem to care.

You didn't notice when you were talking that he doesn't eat anything from a table full of food prepared by his followers. All he did was push plates towards you to make sure you tried everything. And with his elbows on the table, he listened to you like you were telling a fairy tale. You didn't want to talk about her or your problems, so you told him where you were and what you saw.

With his chin resting on his hand with blue long claws nails and sleepy eyes, he listened to everything like enchanted and curious about you.

He, in order for you to stay, persuaded you to hand over your business to someone else and join the cult.

He argued that by your constant fatigue and lack of strength to handle it. He promised to improve your condition after you moved here - he praised the brisk mountain air, pure waters full of minerals and his connection with the gods, giving comfort to his followers.

You weren't convinced by the idea of being one of his followers, who loved his every move, so you got the role of his guest.

You lived with the rest of them in a big common room - the men and women (with children) had their own separate wings in the large building.

You had there your own responsibilities that weren't too heavy, because the Founder of the cult told you to focus on recovery.

And just like anyone else, you could leave whenever you wanted (in theory).

Many times during the talks he offered you the attainment of your own eternal paradise - explaining that it means a state of eternal peace and happiness, without any worry and pain. His ultimate mercy toward broken people.

The offer sound tempting, you had to admit it, but you had a promise to keep, and sinners like you have no place in paradise.

And now, you found yourself again in front of the same door as ten years ago.

Douma was slightly opposed to your departure, saying you were still unhealed and tried to convince you to stay, but you were adamant about it. He gave up after you promised you'd come back and maybe you'd finally accept his offer.

You had to find out if the last ten years of your life were in vain.

To meet her, you left Douma's cult five days earlier and spent the night at the inn, because you arrived a day too early (than you assumed) and you sold your house a long time ago.

The wood on the door started to splinter, but it was strong enough to withstand your knock.

For a moment you wondered if she was still there or had not been caught, until the door with the loud squeak of the old hinges opened itself.

Inside, you thought nothing had changed - only the smell had left. Where there used to be a second room (with the bodies) she was sitting with her biwa. Behind her was an impenetrable darkness as if there were no walls behind her.

After called her by her old surname (which you didn't even notice slipping out of your mouth) you didn't speak to each other anymore.

You were surprised she still had the same kimono you gave her. You know this, it was made especially for your order, because you could not find anything in her type.

As soon as you took your seat on the only pillow (like it's specially set up in front of her for you), she started playing, and you thought the last decade was just a bad dream.

You've both fallen into a trance by hypnotizing each other. So much has happened that she's forgotten your promise, and if you hadn't come, you'd be a relic of her past.

In the morning, before the sun had time to rise, you left with the feeling that you belonged to each other. She was the musician, and you were her audience.

But before you left for the next 29 days, she spoke to you only once to telling you to call her Nakime.

And with every full moon, you'd come back for more. She didn't invite you but you knew she'd be waiting for you and she knew you'd be back.

She never spoke to you, but you didn't mind. You both understood each other without words and your roles in the relationship.

Sometimes after her performance you felt happy, sometimes more depressed than usual which Douma noticed and always asked about. He seemed to care very much about his followers, so you believed it was a real concern.

As history has shown, you are sometimes very naive and blind.

After a long and tiring series of questions from him, you finally revealed the reason for your sudden departures and current changes in mood.

Once Nakime was ordered to bring in all 12 moons, but she had a problem. Douma, as always, had company in his audience chamber and could not move him, when people were close.

She waited patiently to bring him, when she heard you come in to inform him of your another trip. You wanted to do it when he had an audience so you could get out sooner, but unfortunately he was willing to discuss it with you.

"Oh, you're leaving so soon again? Ahh, I was about to call you. I'm soooo bored here alone. Are you sure I couldn't go with you? Please, I'm begging you."

The blonde asked you with a smile and folding his hands as his followers do in prayer, excited as if you'd already agreed. For some reason, you felt like he was putting more and more pressure on you as this time of the month came.

"Douma-sama, you have responsibilities, and I'll see you in a few days."

Sitting cross-legged on a big pillow, a man puffed up his cheeks like a baby. Sometimes you wonder how old he really is.

You refrained from sighing and running your hand over your face. To stop him from pleading further, you drew your last card against him.

"Besides, I thought you couldn't leave the building during the day. And I couldn't just travel at night, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but it'll take so long and you'll be sad again because of that woman."

He closed his eyes and leaning slightly forward started whining in the tone of a child stating the sad obvious.

Untli he suddenly straightened up as if a new energy had entered him and, clapping his hands, said pleased with his new idea.

"I know! It will be better if you stay here this month! Then you will not take a step backward in your treatment."

But you instantly frowned and clenched your fists. His insistence was slowly starting to get on your nerves.

The blonde, feeling as if he were on thin ice, became sad again and rested his chin on his hand. In the second, he was holding a golden fan.

You once had a chance to get a close look at it, during the affiliation of new members in his this same chamber. He covered half of his face with it after hearing another sad story.

After several times spent with him during this meetings (at his request) you noticed that although all the stories were always tragic, they also sound very similar.

You're surprised they didn't affect his psyche after all these years of listening to other people's problems and expecting them to solve them.

Although perhaps that was the reason for his sometimes childish behavior? When he needed to, he was able to remain serious, although most of the time he acted like an actor on stage - sometimes all too exaggeratedly.

Normally, he'd keep pushing you to stay until you escaped into the sunlight, but he's noticed you've become distant and inaccessible to him lately. This prompted him to rethink and change his tactics.

"I'd better go."

"Will you come back?"

"As always," you said, turning your back to him.

You were getting more and more tired of his personality. And it wasn't just you, Nakime listening to it was also running out of patience.

"My, my. You're really quickly trying to get away from me. Wait a minute longer. I have one more question."

You sighed.

After Nakime performances, you discovered that you are finally managed to sleep peacefully all night without the corpses of your friends blaming you for their deaths, and you waited impatiently for her. On the one hand, it gave you relief, and on the other, a sense of guilt.

You wish you were on your way already, but as a courtesy, you always came to let him know you were leaving and then you had to regret it.

"Yes, Douma-sama? What do you want to ask?"

You asked dryly, wanting just to get out. For some time, Douma seemed too interested in your travels and invited you to spend time together much more often. Even when you were too mentally exhausted and didn't accept the offer, he would come to you. He was literally like a little kid, who didn't understand the word "no."

The black-haired woman clenched her fingernails on the instrument until the wood crumbled a little. If she'd used a little more force, she'd have broken her biwa like a stick. The blue fingernails pierced the neck of the instrument, creating holes, but she didn't care about it now.

"What is she like? You never told me much about her."

"Is that all you want to know? After that, can I leave?"

"Of course," Douma said straightening up and putting his hand on his massive chest dressed in a red turtleneck with a black top. "I always keep my promises."

A man was looking at you with those peculiar rainbow eyes waiting for an answer. They were simultaneously alluring and dreadful. Everyone said they were his gift from the gods.

But like you, he also had his curse and it was those beautiful eyes. Maybe that's why blonde demon thought he was the only one, who understood you and what it was like, in his own twisted way, remembering his beginnings from time when he was human.

Knowing that it would be better to answer him (because you may later regret it by his insistence upon your return), you pondered for a moment.

What is Nakime like?

She was elegant, cold and cruel. Merciless. Yes, but you can't deny that you've noticed the silent acts of courtesy she made to you during your meetings. She was too proud to admit them out loud.

The interior of the house has somehow changed, the blood has disappeared and it is definitely warmer for you on cold nights.

Sometimes you seemed to sense a delicate scent of flowers, completely different from Douma - a strong, suffocating smell of lilies. And sometimes you seemed to sense something else underneath it on him.

She was above it all, but she was also...

"She's cute."

You said with such confidence, that the woman's face instantly turned red. Her heart beat faster and in her belly the long-sleeping butterflies woke up.

What did you do to her?

Douma unexpectedly laughed behind his hand. The joyful, spontaneous sound echoes through the walls of the spacious room making it even louder.

When he finished and did nothing more, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

"Hm? Did something happen? You decided to stay?"

"No, I'm just wondering if that's it."

Douma smiled at you as if you were telling a joke.

"Just like I promised, you're free now." But before you disappearing completely from his sight, he added:

"And remember I can always give you eternal paradise if you ever decide. Then you'll never have to suffer again."

As soon as the shōji door with the painted lily on canvas closed behind you, he was moved to Infinite Castle.

Muzan asked them about their progress in the search for the Blue Spider Lily and their success in eliminating the Ubuyashiki clan, at the same time strongly criticizing and calling them useless. Sometimes he had to relieved his anger on them and somehow get them to work so they wouldn't get too lazy.

Some of the blood of the lower moons was spilled and some of the upper moons were reminded of their place in the hierarchy. Nothing new.

And when the meeting was over in a few strokes of the strings, she sent everyone back where they were. Except for one person.

Douma looked around in surprise wondering why he was not yet in Eternal Paradise in his chamber. As soon as he saw Nakime sitting in the distance, he stood up and waved to her.

"Oh, Biwa Lady, what's wrong? Are you bored too?"

Nakime ignored him and, squeezing the plectra tighter, said imperatively.

"Stay away from that human."

"Hmm?" He muttered, putting his finger to his cheek and tilting his head slightly, thinking for a moment. After that, the man asked carelessly.

"Which one? I have a bit too many of them to guess which one exactly you mean, hahaha."

Douma laughed innocently, pretending not to know what she meant, irritating her even more. If the bangs hadn't covered her face, he could have seen her veins pulsing furiously across her forehead.

As a final warning to him, she repeated this to him through clenched teeth.

"Leave. That. Human. Alone. And. Never. Bother. Again."

"Oh, you mean my friend?"

He tilted his head slightly and with a satisfied smile added.

"But your chosen one lives with me, how could I ever leave my dear friend alone in need?"

Blonde bowed his head slightly, wrinkled in fake worry thick eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Oh, my, my. You're putting me in a difficult position. Friends should help each other and besides..."

He looked at her half-closed, with a predatory smile, and said in a lowered voice. "I don't usually share with my food."

Suddenly Douma was crushed by a wall falling on him from above. When she released him, he looked like a moving mass of flesh and meat.

He recovered quickly as a upper second moon befits, laughing at the woman's reaction. If he wanted to, he could easily avoid it with his speed.

"Oh, my, my, hahaha, you really need it, you're a quite strong, but still too weak and little too slow, my dear."

Seeing that he raised his hand again, he added quickly.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I just bait you. I didn't know you cared so much about this one. If you'd explained it before, I'd understand."

"There is nothing to understand here. Don't elaborate. You're just supposed to stop."

The cult leader giggled again and with a friendly smile refused.

"You see, this is my friend, who came to me for help. Who would I be if I didn't help him get rid of the pain? After all, it's my job."

Before Nakime could pull the strings and hurt him again, he said:

"You're cute."

Imitating your voice and tone. He wasn't the best at it, but it worked well enough that she hesitated for a moment and almost dropped the instrument. Grasping the neck of the biwa again, she changed the acrod, and instead of cutting him vertically with a shōji door, she sent him back to his audience chamber.

It took less than a second, but Douma noticed it, and he was complacent. Although he did not consider himself a master of deduction, as demonstrated by his least fruitful search for the Blue Spider Lily of all the moons.

Who would have expected Biwa Lady to have feelings for human?

But she must have forgotten one thing, when she was ordering and trying to intimidate him, is that demons are very territorial and jealous of their food - especially the upper moons.

Nakime still had over 72 hours left until you arrived, and she started wondered during that time whether it would be better to just lock you up at Infinity Castle after all.

#request #nakime #kny demons #demon slayer characters #demon #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kny nakime #nakime x reader #tw insects #tw blood #tw eating people #tw possession

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