Chapter Text
Akaza watched with a stony face as your blood dripped from your wrist into the teacup set aside for Kokushibou. The full force of his bloodlust was reigned in, but he was silent and unmoving, leaving him a gaping void of sensation. The only way you knew he was there was the fact that you watched him sit down there to begin with. Otherwise, you’d not be able to tell that he was within your home.
It wasn’t detachment, it was like walls came down forcing his emotion in a separate plane than yours. But you didn’t need your limited empathy in order to know his disapproval for you bleeding for another demon. For you bleeding to begin with…
When your eyes went back to check on Akaza, despite knowing that there was no change, you were stopped by a cool hand catching your cheek and stealing your attention back - Kokushibou’s six eyes were staring down into yours, cold and maybe a hint territorial, but grounding.
“I shall… take care of you…”
Him? Take… care? Of you?
Your confusion lasts only for a moment, because he’s gone from your sightso quickly that you didn’t even notice he had gotten up.
Akaza clicks his tongue loudly, drawing your attention to his half-lidded eyes, dark tarnished gold as they stared into your own before roaming your body with such intensity that your blood burned hot under your skin.
He’s by your side in an instant, bringing your bleeding wrist to his face while his heavy stare is locked into your eyes, like he was peeling back every layer of your being and peering into your soul. And, for all you knew, he was.
Then, he pressed his cool lips to stinging cut, eyes not moving from yours for even a moment.
“There, I kissed it better.”
In the next moment he’s gone, torn off of you by your other demonic guest and leaving a burst of chilled air in his place. You could hear his snarl, his bloodied teeth, aimed at the Upper Moon One and the look of his six eyes narrowed apathetic contempt.
You then look and see the clean cloth and bowl of water that Kokushibou brings, and he is quick to clean and bandage your self-inflicted injury, leaving the teacup of blood to the side for the moment.
But while he took care of your wrist you noticed that there is a hatred in Akaza’s golden eyes, aimed at the other.
You always liken the man - demon - to a feline. Lithe muscles, cool looks ranging from indifference to the calm before the storm, the way that he makes himself comfortable by draping himself over your furniture, the catty eyes and feline smirk of glee, slow blinks, his silent walk sounding of danger, the way he pounces, the posturing and hisses when his hackles are raised - but there is something distinctly wolf-like about the way that he lunges, the way his grin stretches over sharp teeth in excitement, in the way that his anger is hot and fiery rather than frigid like a cat’s.
The way that Akaza is restraining himself, muscles taut like he was collared and leashed, despite his lowered stance, bared teeth, was all wolf. Alone, yet standing for his pack - you. He didn’t need to growl, he didn’t need to crouch on all fours, for you to see the way the way that the backdrop of the full moon and the wilderness would suit him so perfectly.
You weren’t oblivious to the way that the two demons, who both directly served under the same orders, didn’t get along.
Well, that was an understatement.
You simply couldn’t NOT notice the way that Akaza looked ready to tear out Kokushibou’s throat with his bare hands, nor the way that Kokushibou looked down on Akaza like he was a rabid animal to put down. The two of them would kill each other if your back was turned, though that didn’t happen despite how often they must cross paths while they were out of your sight.
You can only hope that you won’t lose either of them… and you can only hope not to each other.
When Kokushibou released your arm, you felt a sense of relief as you came back from your thoughts to yourself; Akaza was no longer as on edge. Upper Moon One had cleaned your wound and bandaged you with cool serenity and detachment.
Your vision of a kiss with him was far in the future, if it was truly meant to be prophetic at all. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, should it happen or not.
Especially when you realize the feelings that you and Akaza share aren’t… the way that friends feel. You know you’ll need to talk to him about it, but you worry about how your relationship with Akaza will go when you point out the metaphorical elephant in the room.
Speaking of…
“Is the tea not to your liking, Akaza?” You asked upon seeing that he hadn’t taken a sip.
His eyes flashed with something hot and syrupy before they landed on you again. His feline smile was honeyed, and he spoke with a purr.
Like a cat.
A big, fluffy, giant house cat.
(Or a tiger with his prey between his teeth, smug as can be)
”You called me Akaza~”
You frowned in confusion, and then it hit you.
“A-apologies, Akaza-San!”
Feelings.
Not friendly.
Friends don’t feel like this—
His grin turned lupine. Wolf-like.
“Nah-ah-ah, Princess, I think I like it when you—“
“Fujishiki-dono asked you a question. You would do well to answer it,” Kokushibou cut in sharply, eyes narrowed into slits. For once, his slow cadence is deliberately forgone, fast and harsh staccato punctuating his words.
It was cold, all of a sudden, you think. The teasing atmosphere made by Akaza, the rushed apologies and embarrassment from you, it was like cold steel(or rather, Nichirin) had sliced through it all like ribbons and left it to cool in the unforgiving air.
Akaza bared his teeth, grabbed his teacup none too gently, brought it to his lips and threw it back like a shot glass.
The cup, now empty, was loudly slammed back onto the table rattling everything on it. Except you noticed that it was the heel of his palm that hit the table, the cup had no cracks and was cared for with a gentle consideration from your- friend. Your friend.
It was oddly reminiscent of the first time you met him, when you first invited him for tea. You noticed that he hadn’t touched his tea, you asked him the same question, and he drank it in the same way. Just… with added hostility, for flavor or something.
Right.
”The tea is fine,” he said in a hoarse, strained voice. Like he was restraining the urge to jump over the table and strangle Kokushibou, or maybe just start a fist fight. Akaza didn’t seem the type to grapple, just punch.
You couldn’t hide the way your knuckles went white over your knees and fingers dig in, but you did quickly smooth over the skirt of your kimono and deliberately relax your posture.
You think that your unease was seen despite your effort to hide it, because the tension in the room dropped.
Jeez, both of these men just need to get laid.
…what?
You felt your face catch fire, your ears too, and you quickly bowed your head.
What?! Did you seriously just think that?? What are you thinking!! You can’t just— that’s too— shame on you! Shame on your cow - but you don’t have a cow - what?!
You’re not dealing with feelings right now.
Your hands shakily reach for your own teacup, and you knock it back in the same way that Akaza had, welcoming the scalding burn down your throat for the distraction it gave you. You breathed in the night-chilled air, huffed it out, and schooled your features.
It would not do well to be a bad host.
“I must admit my curiosity,” you begin with a shallow breath, then forcing your lungs to expand into a deeper breath. Calm yourself, you’re fine. “I apologize if I overstep but… Kokushibou-San, you clearly do not like Akaza-San, so, forgive me, but… why did you come here?”
Your question is met with silence. A moment passes, and then another, and you see that the room is frozen like a painting. The only way you know it is not is the flickering of the flame of the candles, time and time again dancing to a tune that you do not hear.
Your resolve crumbles, but you do not let it break. You smooth over its edges and stay steady, unapologetic for your curiosity yet ready to weave some placating words if it means your continued survival.
No. No… you know that you will not meet your end by his hand. Yet his aura is so oppressive, danger screams from every bone in your body, cries and heartbreak and fear warning you off but something wild and untamed like a hurricane telling you that it’s okay. That you are protected, and he will not hurt you and he cannot hurt you.
Rain is your blood and thunder is your heartbeat.
Finally, Kokushibou dips his head in a half-nod-half-bow. A concession to your stubbornness and the fact that you hadn’t backed down.
He turns his body towards you, and shifts his legs so that he is kneeling before you, and completes his bow into a full, formal bow.
“I am tasked with your protection, Fujishiki-dono,” he murmurs.
“You will not know harm,” my queen’. The last address was left unsaid, not only meant to be hidden as of now but it was also chafing at something in Kokushibou. His pride, his core values.
Because you are weak.
And he resents that his master, so strong and so powerful, has chosen you to be his queen. How could he respect you when you were so disgustingly fragile?
He hates and he hates, but he knows that in the hierarchy he will always be below Muzan.
And so he must protect you, and make sure that you are the most protected thing on this earth.
(But, despite his loathing of your weakness, he cannot stand to admit it but he respects your ingenuity. You had tied a sword above your doorframe for a threat that you are too weak to stand against. You had stood your ground and held your head high, and you knew your actions intimately before you made them. It made you graceful, respectable, but only in the way of your mind. For if you lacked even that, Kokushibou cannot imagine that he would have any conviction at all to protect you, let alone share the same general space as you.)
Fall brought falling leaves and cooler breezes. Frost had just begun to set across the grass at dawn, and the harvest was ripe for the picking.
But, somehow, you found yourself in the halls of a temple rather than in your garden.
People ran past you as if you weren’t even there; and perhaps you weren’t. This was a vision of some sort, you knew it in the way that you knew your blood pulsed with your heart.
Though you saw nothing in your arms, saw nothing in your hands, you kept them held up and around the basket of vegetables that you had just picked. It looked awkward, cradling something that wasn’t there, but you didn’t want to end up dropping what you had just worked hard to collect.
It smelled of fresh linen, white towels were being washed by hand, dried in the sun, and folded by several young women in white fabric. In the shade sat older men and women, smiling out at the sunny day and enjoying the fall breeze.
You turned and the vision shifted. The scenery was stretched and, in a meld of colors and the contortion of shadows, you saw the night sky outside of a window.
A man sat under the moonlight, eyes a kaleidoscope of colored gems. Like a light prism, the rainbows in the sky, but carved in the flesh of his eyes and inked in the irises were kanji words that you understood all too well.
Upper Moon Two.
An omen.
You’ve befriended Upper Moon Three.
You’ve been acquainted with Upper Moon One.
It was coming time to meet Upper Moon Two, now, wasn’t it.
You prayed that you would continue on your path blessed by the gods in good luck, because the look of hunger in his eyes made you feel like nothing more than a carcass.
