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kitcattales · 1 year

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Something There - Akaza x Fem! Reader Chapter 2: Wrapped in Lantern Light

Author's note: Here's chapter 2 of my Akaza fic, ya'll! c: If you're liking the story so far, please maybe consider supporting me and my work on AO3 and my other cross-post sites! c: Chapter 1 - 4 are all available on those sites! <3 Your support means the world to me! <3 If you've made it this far, thank you for keeping up with the story up to this point! As always, God bless and happy reading! <3

Please find information about warnings and the rating for the entire fic in the post featuring Chapter One linked below! I will also be doing my best to tag these posts with appropriate warnings as well!

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER THREE

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad, and Quotev (I am most active on AO3!)

Word count: 11,172

Chapter 2: Wrapped in Lantern Light

The forest had fallen into a peaceful silence when Akaza began to trek down paths familiar to him despite their unmarked existence.

His footsteps were quiet as they traversed the foliage around the cluster of cedars though he walked briskly with the unconscious woman in his arms. His bright golden gaze remained fixated ahead of him, trying to focus solely on the environment and the beings in the forest around them, but try as he might, he couldn’t dedicate his full attention on where he was going. There were subtle things about the girl in his arms which continued to cause his attention to stumble upon her repetitively, wordlessly beckoning those otherworldly hues of his onto her being.

The gentle, almost ticklish sensation of her hair brushing against his arm with every move he made when she’d sway just the slightest bit though he tried to maintain as stable a grip on her as possible; the rhythmic warmth of her constant, quiet breath blanketing the skin of his bare chest, causing gooseflesh to come to life along the length of his arms every so often; the occasional tear which slowly dripped and trailed from her cheeks to wet his flesh and soak into his open haori; the odd scent of her, so feminine and delicately mixed with the natural essence of the woods, something so foreign to him, it kept him wondering how long it had been since he had smelled something similar from this close.

In a word, the human woman was completely and utterly distracting.

He was normally much more focused and attentive when it came to his objectives, but this entire scenario with the Slayer in his arms was totally off-script from what he was accustomed to. It left him baffled with himself, almost at a complete loss on what he should be doing. He had some course of action to take for the time being, but whether that was the right move for him to make or not was still incredibly unclear to him.

As he pondered the thought, his walking slowed, and subconsciously, his gaze lowered upon the nameless woman swaying lightly in his arms. He didn’t really need to look where he was going. He had walked through the spaces in between the densely packed cedars so many times, he practically had every single seedling, adolescent, adult and fallen tree perfectly mapped out in his head. Effortlessly, he could sense the weaker beings which inhabited the forest alongside him, but he didn’t really care about their presences. Unlike the humans, he didn’t need to worry about the other demons. It truly had to be a mindless creature freshly born of rage and desolation with nary an idea on how the world around them works for one of them to charge at him like the weakling from earlier.

That in mind, he presumed he could devote a moment or two to observe the woman in his arms.

He found himself staring aimlessly at first, the sound of the breeze encouraging the leaves of the cedars to dance to the sound of the orchestrating crickets filling the space of existence around him.

Even asleep, she looked incredibly…sad. Somber. Distraught. Her brow was furrowed lightly, creasing her delicate skin on her forehead. Her lips, plush and softly reflecting the distant glow of the moon whenever the canopy allowed, were pulled downwards. A few of her tears had left their streaming trails on her skin alongside the corners of those lips of hers before they had dripped and disappeared beneath her chin.

He supposed it was only natural that she looked that way after what happened. He assumed most humans would be fairly distressed or troubled to have a confrontation with a couple of demons in the woods – but then again, she wasn’t just any ordinary human and he already knew he couldn’t have been the cause for her original strife.

Mimicking the expression on her face, Akaza’s brow had furrowed, perplexed once again by the thoughts running through his mind.

What a strange human, He thought to himself. Coming to me on her own like that. She must be out of her mind. If I had been any of the others, she would’ve been a pile of bones by now.

He frowned, stopping a moment to adjust his hold the slightest bit so he could carefully stroke a few strands of hair behind her ear the wind had blown astray. By then, the blood on his hands had dried and brushed off on the two of them, allowing her hair to remain dry this time when his ink-dipped fingers lightly tucked those silky strands back in place.

He stood still where he was, just staring at her, his eyes slowly trailing down her frame to take in the curves and contours of her plump, feminine figure before trailing back up to her face to take in the small detail of her long lashes gently brushing the tops of her wet cheeks. The world around them kept moving, the woods kept breathing life and eliciting excitement into the beings hiding amongst the cedar, but he felt like he was stuck in place despite knowing exactly where he had been going. Everything about what this woman was, what she represented and what he was doing with her was all completely against everything he knew and did throughout his lifetime as a demon. It caused things to stir in him which left him feeling unlike himself.

Uncertain.

Hesitant.

He didn’t like feeling like this. This feeling of instability on the ground he walked on no matter how firmly he planted his feet nor how sturdy he made his stance.

Tearing his gaze away from her figure, he turned to look towards the direction he knew led back to the village he assumed she came from. For an instant, he considered to just take her there. He could leave her at the edge of the village before any of the other humans saw him and disappear. He’d have saved her from death’s grip tonight and would be free of the uncertainty she planted in him.

Long, seemingly endless seconds passed him by as he considered it, his eyes staring into the distant empty foliage as far as his sight allowed him. Ultimately, he turned sharply on his heels, dismissing the idea and simply continuing along the paths he knew as well as the back of his hands.

Forward he walked with purpose and focus once more, the distractions of the woman in his arms pushed to the back of his mind for the time being. He didn’t want to linger on possibilities and open air anymore. He needed a sense of grounding, a sense of stability and concrete direction of the likes of which he thrived from. So, he kept walking, swiftly ducking and passing in between the gossiping cedars smoothly no matter how packed and dense the woods around them became.

Deeper and deeper into the dark he wandered, the two of them consumed in a world he knew she couldn’t survive on her own. Without him, she’d be a sightless, bloodied lamb, wobbling around and bleating in her lost, innocent ignorance until a starving wolf came along to do away with her life so as to stain the blades of grass beneath their feet with red. In that scenario, what did that make him? He could’ve very well been the wolf, and he very well still could be, technically, but he knew better than anyone that would never happen. So, what is he? What role is he supposed to take in this story?

He shook his head, deciding that the answer didn’t matter.

Thankfully, his hastened, quick footsteps made it so he didn’t have to wonder about it for much longer, either.

Before long, he had found the path of forest floor bordered by two twisting rows of thick, ancient cedars. The massive, impressive trees stood side-by-side, on guard, their canopies outstretched to keep all light at bay along the trek to the door of the old cabin at the end of the trail – the abandoned cabin he often called home when he needed sanctuary from the brilliantly scorching sun; something the humans looked at as a symbol of hope and happiness, and likewise, something demons like him looked at as a symbol of a cruel, painful death.

What did it feel like? He wondered absently. The warmth of the sun on my skin without the feeling of it blistering me like a burnt piece of meat…Did I like the sun when I was human too?

The questions made him frown again though he felt more at ease at the sight of the cabin’s inviting wooden structure. The feeling of walking below the cedars’ shadows had always covered him with a sense of safety and refuge; a place he knew he could rest in without worry of the sun’s burning rays hitting his sleeping body. Regardless of what he must have thought about it in his prior lifetime, the sun was now an enemy he would have to battle against for the rest of his eternal, immortal days. As long as she was in the cabin with him, she would be safe from the others on the outside even during the day.

Sliding the cabin door open with his right foot, he stepped into his home, greeted by a calming dark within. The dim light casting hazily from the open door allowed him to see the little furniture he had in the small room was right where he had left it last.

The cabin itself didn’t have a lot to look at on the inside. The structure was relatively small, primarily consisting of one main room and a small closet towards the back. There used to be two windows on opposing walls, but he had boarded them up when he first found the place to ensure it would be shrouded in complete darkness whenever the sun rose. Within the main room there was a simple one-person futon, tucked towards the center of the room away from said windows just as a precaution. Its comforter was thick, the edges bordered in white with an intricate pattern of waves displayed on the middle fabric. It wasn’t exactly his taste, but he wasn’t picky, either. He had stolen that from the nearby village, actually, not so long ago.

Beside the futon, there was a lantern with a recently replenished tall, white candle confined within the detailed metalwork. Naturally, it wasn’t lit. A few feet away from the futon was an irori pit with a cooking pot setup above it and two beige zabuton cushions on either side. In the irori pit itself, there were a couple of cedar logs haphazardly beaten down to size, edges jagged and misshapen. He wasn’t in the habit of cooking at home often, but considering his specific dietary lifestyle, he would sometimes simply hunt animals in the forest and cook the meat he harvested from them in his cabin. Of course, he didn’t have to do this, but he wasn’t really the type to go out of his way to kill off just any human for a meal, either. Consequently, the fact that the cabin had its own irori pit was actually a bit of a plus for him. Eating cooked animal meat whenever it was convenient to fill him was just…well, convenient. When he wasn’t cooking anything, however, he would light the irori anyway to better illuminate the entire cabin.

The walls themselves were barren, the natural grooves and rings of the wooden planks the only decoration offered in the room. Against the wall to his left, there was a basic wooden cabinet with a single door hiding what was stored within. Beside the cabinet, there was also a basic wooden dresser with two sets of three drawers. All in all, it wasn’t a whole lot that he had there, but it was enough for a being like him who never stayed in one place for too long.

The floorboards beneath his bare feet hushed out quiet creaks in greeting as he approached his futon. Kneeling down before the mattress, he carefully lowered the woman in his arms down onto it, one of his hands sliding to the back of her head to guide it tenderly to his pillow while the other straightened and adjusted her legs. Once she was settled in and his hands were free at last, he looked towards the Nichrin sword sheathed by the woman’s hip. He didn’t expect her to use it on him, and even if she did, he knew he could handle it, but he still figured it would be for the best for him to remove it from her person so she didn’t hurt herself if she started tossing around in her sleep. Taking care not to jostle her body too much, he detached her sword from her belt – sheath and all – and placed it on the ground beside him for the time being. After that was taken care of, he turned back to her and moved the comforter gently out from underneath her legs and hips to pull the warm blanket atop of her weakened frame. He took a moment to tuck her in loosely, making sure she was warm and well-covered by the comforter.

Only when she was completely settled is when he got back up on his feet and went to close the cabin door, the dark within the room completely consuming the two of them for a moment’s breath. Still, even in the pitch black of these four walls, he knew exactly where he was going and where he shouldn’t step. Instinctively, he walked towards the dresser against the left wall and pulled open one of the top drawers. He rummaged inside for a few moments, his tainted fingers feeling around various miscellaneous objects he had stored away until he eventually came across one of his matchboxes. He fumbled with the box, his thumbs pushing the lid open so he could pluck a single match out of the bunch. Closing the box and holding it firmly in his hand, he swiped the match

once,

twice,

three times

until fire sparked on its head.

He hummed, pleased, and tossed the matchbox back into the drawer before pushing it closed. He then returned to the woman on his futon and knelt down beside her to face the lantern at her side. He opened up the small cage’s door, a squeak of rusted metal groaning with the motion as it revealed the candle hidden within its framework. Pinching the match between his thumb and forefinger, he lit the candle, its graceful flame dancing to life bathing the cabin in a warm, orange glow. Once it was lit, he blew the fire out on his match and tossed it carelessly into the irori’s sands to swallow up the faded giver of light.

For a moment, he considered lighting the irori, his eyes lingering on the pit and the cedar logs he had yet to use within it, but he shut the lantern’s door closed and decided against it for the time being. Instead, he took the woman’s Nichirin sword and went to rest it against the wall by the closet door before returning to kneel by her bedside once more. Bathed in the lantern’s glow, as he gazed upon her sleeping figure, he began to drink in her details in a different light almost without even noticing. He didn’t really know where to look at first, so many details long since forgotten suddenly pushed onto his lap out of the blue tonight having made everything somewhat confusing to the demon, but in time, his gaze began to focus on the small details again just as he had done out in the woods.

He took in the sight of her chest rising and falling consistently with her breathing first, the subtle motion causing for the comforter atop of her to ruffle quietly along with her shallow breaths. It was lulling to watch, a constant rhythm which made him feel somewhat…peaceful. Strange that he got a feeling like that just by watching over her like this. His eyes then traveled back up to her face, taking in the sight of her feminine softness bathed in orange light and brushed crimson where his hands had touched her earlier. Despite the macabre undertone, she actually looked quite beautiful with her thick locks of hair splayed out across the pillow around her. Womanly and graceful even in the state she was in.

He hummed at the thought as he took in, once again, the troubled and pained expression the woman harbored on her delicate features he caught himself admiring. Her frantic crying and pleas to be killed set aside, there had been something else going on with her that caused that look on her face to surface. She had been limping when she approached him, having practically dragged herself all the way to him from wherever she had come from. He wouldn’t be surprised if her body was littered with all kinds of injuries beneath that uniform of hers, considering her line of work and the humanity she couldn’t help.

“If you were a demon, that wouldn’t matter. You would have gotten over it by the time you blinked twice.” He commented lowly, hushed under his breath, an innate response which rolled off of his tongue instinctively. “…But you’re not. You’re human…You’re weak.” He remarked, gently reaching down to comb his fingers through a few locks of her hair. “You’re fragile…You can’t take care of yourself on your own like that, can you…?” He repeated the motion a few times, starting near her head without actually touching her and combing his fingers leisurely along until they carefully pulled themselves out of her luscious waves by the tips. He watched curiously as the strands gracefully fell from his fingers onto the futon and pillow, unused to the silky sensation and the odd sense of peace these simple, insignificant actions continued to bring him.

On the sixth time his fingers found themselves swimming in her (hair color) waves, his hand had paused midway. He stalled there to allow his thumb to rub those silky strands between the pads of his fingers, the smooth, honeyed sensation of it abruptly causing the inkling of a memory to shyly lift its head within his mind. He blinked a few times, his fingers stopping and his brow furrowing, the shy memory he didn’t know he had becoming bolder and extroverted, suddenly hitting him with a quick flash of images and words that forced him to stir from where he sat with a start. He straightened up, his brow creasing further, taken aback but actively motivated to move with the sudden information he had at his fingertips. Finally allowing her hair to fall from his fingers one last time, he stood to his feet and got ahead of himself, already rushing towards the door, but he stopped himself halfway with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Water.”

He turned back around and moved towards the closet, sliding the door open to reveal a pail set on the floor below the shelves he used to bring water to cook with and to refill the small outhouse outside. He grabbed its handle with his bloodstained fingers, and the sight of their bloodied state casually reminded him he needed to wash himself up after his encounter with the lesser demon. After he made a mental note of that, he closed the closet door and rushed out of the cabin, making sure he had slid the front door closed behind him.

He was sure she’d be fine on her own for a little while. After what happened earlier, he doubted any of the others would really dare themselves to come near her now that he’s taken her in, even when he wasn’t around – at least not tonight.

I’ll remind them why it’s an awful idea to try if they forget quicker than they should. At the very least, it would make for an entertaining couple of minutes.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The evening air was warm, the cool breeze carrying the sounds of people conversing and traveling, caught up in their own bubbles and lives. The lights above were warm and golden, easy on the eyes, but bright enough to make the scenery come to life for those who walked along the station platform. Up ahead, the train tracks were empty, a wide and vast forest left in full display on the other side during its temporary vacancy.

_______ felt disoriented by the familiar sights and sounds of the Mugen Train Station, aware that she had visited a few times in the past, but she couldn’t remember visiting it recently, let alone coming tonight to sit on that metal bench she was on right now. She looked around her, eyes squinted, lips parted slightly as confused, labored puffs of air left her. The sight of the crowds of bustling people and the bright ticket counters illuminating the dark of night came off blurry to her, so she lifted her hands to rub her eyes in an attempt to bring the world back to clarity. She tried to orientate herself, remind herself on where she was and what she was doing, but her mind kept drawing a blank no matter how clear her vision became nor how focused she tried to make herself be. The only thing she was able to really acknowledge was that this was, in fact, the Mugen Train Station. She didn’t need to read the signs to know that. Still, that didn’t tell her anything about why she was there and how she got there to begin with.

“You’re awake, young _______!”

That voice…

That voice.

It shook her to her very core to hear it ring so vividly in her ear. It sucker-punched her in the gut to hear it clear, bright and warm like the comforting lights above her. It forced the air out of her lungs to hear the laugh which followed soon afterwards, full of vigor and life. Slowly, she turned in her seat, coming to face the side of the station she had neglected since her eyes opened in the midst of the hustle and bustle of common life. Upwards her gaze rose until it landed on those lively, unique golden hues and that brilliant, heartwarming smile she had burned in her memory to the very last detail. Right down to the dimpled creases and the fiery rings of color within his irises.

“R…R-Rengoku…? Is that…? B-but…but how can…?”

He simply widened his smile, chuckling further as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much with how right now! We have other things to discuss, don’t we, young _______? More important things.”

_______ shook her head, her hands trembling on her lap before they grabbed tightly at the hem of her skirt. Her nails tugged roughly at the fabric, so strong she swore it would tear, but that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Rengoku was there.

He was alive.

“Tell me, why are you here?”

Still completely floored by the Hashira’s appearance, _______ slowly shook her head in response. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wished she had said, but none of it came to her tongue now that he was sitting in front of her like she thought he never would be again. Everything jumbled up in her mind in a large, convoluted knot, forcing her to hyper-focus on his presence as a whole instead.

“I…don’t know why I’m here…I don’t even know how I got here…”

“Yes, you do know why you’re here. I’m sure you do. Dig in a little deeper, _______, I know you can do it!”

Her lower lip began to quiver at his familiar encouragement, her eyes beginning to mist up.

“But I r-really don’t, Rengoku, I-I don’t know why I’m here…I can’t give you the answer you want…”

“Yes, you can! Search within yourself and you’ll find the answer you need!”

She shook her head again as it lowered, pulling her gaze away from his brilliant expression completely to instead stare at his flame emblazoned haori draped beneath him on the bench.

“You always had so much faith in me,” She whispered meekly. “Why…wh-why did you ever have that much faith in someone like me?”

Though she no longer looked at him, his smile softened and his head tilted gently to the side.

“I had many reasons to have faith in you, but there’s more to this.” He remarked softly. Vaguely. “Dig a little deeper.”

She shook her head one more time, tears now beginning to roll down her cheeks, clinging to the edges of her jaw before falling in fat droplets onto the fabric of her skirt and the metal of the bench.

“B-but, Rengoku, I don’t care why or how I got here, I-I’m just…I-I’m so happy you’re here…I d-don’t even know what to do with myself, my head feels so empty but so loud at the same time…There’s so much I want to s-say to you, but I’m…” She couldn’t completely end her sentence, a heartbreaking sob wrenching itself free from her gut forcing her to cut herself off. She bent forward, ducking her head down lower into her chest as she brought her pained, heavily squinted gaze down to her laps where it heavily blurred with her tears. All the while, the bustling, busy crowds around them continued on their ways, carrying on their own lives and business, completely ignoring the two of them in their shared bubble.

Roughly, she bit into her lower lip, surprised she didn’t taste blood from how brutely she had dug her teeth into the tender flesh, but she didn’t question it.

She just needed to try to compose herself.

She felt like it was crucial.

She had no idea how much time she had.

“Why are you here, _______?” Rengoku asked again, the feeling of his large, gentle hand reaching down to press and rub against her back forcing another devastating sob to rip through her throat no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down.

“Y-your hand,” She sobbed. “My God, Rengoku, your hand i-is so warm…Without saying anything o-or…or d-doing anything in particular, you’ve always made me believe l-like things will be okay at the end of the day…J-just like that…J-just because you’re so reliable a-and dependable…S-so strong…”

“_______...”

“W-why would you ever waste s-something so compassionate and k-kind on someone like me…? W-why, out of e-everyone you could sit with, did you come to m-me? I don’t deserve this – I-I don’t deserve you…!”

“Why are you here?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” She suddenly cried out loud, as loud as her lungs allowed her to proclaim. Her back straightened, bringing her to sit up and face the Hashira with an expression completely crumpled in heartache and every single sense the sentiment held.

“I don’t kn-know why I’m here, R-Rengoku…! I never did!”

Rengoku’s expression softened further, warm and full of compassion and care, not at all shaken nor deterred by her outburst.

“You wandered into that forest on your own,” He remarked. “You went in when you were most vulnerable. You dragged your feet across roughened soil and through shadows in the dead of night knowing fully well what you were getting into – but why? Why did you do that, young _______?”

She couldn’t answer him. Her trembling lips quivered heavily and broken, painful whimpers erupted pathetically from her throat as the tears distorted her vision of Rengoku further, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer that question.

Not to him.

She would sooner confess it to the entire world before she would ever confess it to him.

“I know it hurts,” He hushed softly when she didn’t reply, the hand he had rubbed her back with coming to slide upon her cheek where he brushed her tears away. His touch was gentle and thoughtful, the warmth of his skin reminding her again of the life beating in his heart in this moment in time. When he wiped all of her tears away, he brought his hand up to pet the top of her head in comforting strokes. “I know it’s hard to move on, but you can do it, ________. I’ve always known you could. I never had a doubt.”

Still, she could say nothing. All she could do was continue to fall apart right there in front of him, new tears taking the place of the ones he so tenderly wiped away for her as she reveled in the feel of his petting – something she almost forgot the feeling of. The way his large hand would lay flat against her head and gently stroke backwards towards the back of her head before lifting to the top to start over again. The way his fingers would sometimes get caught in her locks and the memory of how they would laugh when he pulled some of her hair out of place when he was done. It all only served to break the small pieces of her heart which remained into smaller, miniscule, jagged shards, devastated that she had really forgotten how this used to feel.

In the midst of his petting and encouraging words, she could hear the distant sound of a train’s whistle blowing. The sound caused for her heart to leap to her throat, the widening of her eyes clearly showing the panic she felt bubbling because of what it meant – because of the fate she knew it carried within its carts.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be here,” Rengoku promised her, his eyes closing into gentle crescents as his smile splayed softly across his lips from ear-to-ear in his own unique display. “When you figure out why, I’ll be here too. I know it’s hard right now and the answers aren’t as clear as you’d like them to be, but you’ll get to them in time. Be patient not just with this, but with yourself. Be patient and be kind.” Giving her one last stroke of the head, he allowed his hand to slide to her cheek where it lingered for a few seconds before he stood to his feet as the Mugen Train came to rest at its station.

Instantly, _______ began to shake her head vigorously, her body moving on its own to stand her up along with him.

“R-Rengoku, please, don’t go! D-don’t get on the train!” She gripped at his arm desperately, trying to pull him back to her, trying to pull him away from the open maw of the Mugen Train and the destination she knew it would lead him to. “Stay! S-stay with me! J-just…j-just a little bit longer! You don’t h-have to go! We can think of something else! W-we can get backup from the Corps and m-make a proper plan! PLEASE, just stay with me…! Don’t get on that train!”

He let out a soft sigh lightly laced with a somber nostalgia, his eyes shifting to look at the Mugen Train with the smile still on his face before turning to look back at _______ once more.

“You and I both know I can’t do that,” He commented softly. “But that’s okay. I’ll be okay, and more importantly, you’ll be okay too.”

With that, he gently removed her hands from his arm, squeezing them strongly and reassuringly in his own for a few seconds longer. When he released them, he turned towards the Mugen Train and boarded it with the other passengers, flashing her one last smile before he disappeared in his cart. Suddenly, the entire train station was empty of the crowds and the atmosphere was silenced from the chitter chatter of the pedestrians. All the doors of the train closed and locked, the beast of iron and coal roaring to life once more with a loud blow of its whistle and a shrill screech of its wheels beginning to turn on its rustic tracks.

_______ shook her head desperately once more, watching as the train began to leave the station at a slow, leisure pace which gradually picked up speed the more its wheels turned.

“N-no, no, no, no, no…! Rengoku! RENGOKU!”

Despite the futility of the situation, she raced after the Mugen Train, trying with all her might to run alongside the cart he had boarded. She could see the top of his fierce mane of blonde locks with their bright red tips from one of the windows, the small sight of him beckoning her to kick her feet as fast and as hard as she was able against the platform floor – but there was only so much platform she was able to run on and only so much time she had before the train was traveling at a pace she could never dream to compete with.

Skidding to a clumsy stop at the very edge of the station platform, _______ watched the Mugen Train rush down its tracks, carrying Rengoku away with it to a fate she knew she couldn’t change no matter how strongly she wished she could.

From there, all _______ could do was watch from the lonely, empty platform as the train quickly grew smaller and smaller in the distance until it was completely out of sight. By then, she was sobbing openly into the blowing wind, orchestrating her deep, wrenching anguish to the vast woods – the only audience she had left.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

Orange.

Flickering, swaying orange delicately tinged with a golden inner glow casting shadows while performing on what seemed like a wooden stage.

That was what the world around her was gradually coming to be as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her eyelids felt heavy, almost too heavy to lift, the weak effort she put into opening them causing for her lashes to tickle the skin of her cheeks. The world still didn’t make much sense to her in those senseless moments of groggy forgetfulness. She couldn’t tell where she was, couldn’t remember what had happened last in that very moment, but she did acknowledge the colors soothingly dancing on the foreign ceiling above her.

The colors were vibrant and strong, lighting up the space of the room she was in perfectly in its comforting glow though she made no move quite yet to look around. She could just tell and feel that it did from the intensity of the colors acting out their play on the ceiling. She felt safe watching them, wondering how it was they got there but having no real determination nor interest in finding out.

She didn’t want to question it.

She knew what happened was just a dream, but she wanted to pretend for a while longer.

She wanted to feel safe and comforted in a way she had long since forgotten for just a little bit longer.

It was a feeling the colors on the ceiling tried to mimic with their performance, and they did quite well, if she were to critique. The play they put on for her made the feeling linger for a while, though it was naturally diluted and nothing like the real thing. It was as though she were coming down from a numbing high, plummeted back into a reality she didn’t want to accept, but allowed a few more minutes in blissful ignorance and disassociation of the truth she hated to accept.

Her vision slowly began to mist and cloud as she watched the colors dance and flicker in the sporadic climax of their stories, but her expression remained the same. She didn’t grimace nor crumple nor pucker. The tears simply came to be in her eyes and slowly began to slide down the sides of her temples, because that’s what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to be there, welling and building up in her sore, tired eyes and marking her skin with their paths repeatedly until she was covered in well-worn tracks. For this instant in time, she was too exhausted to react, too battered to care and too far deep to struggle.

Thus, she simply allowed it to be.

Yet, despite all of that, something beyond the colors was beginning to seep into her current reality. She was gradually becoming aware of the sound of what she believed was bubbling water, consistent and lively somewhere to her left. Along with the bubbling was the occasional clang, pank, clang, pank of metal lightly bumping into metal. Lost in her vague awareness, she shifted her focus from the dancing colors on the ceiling to the shadows which surrounded them. Most of the shadows bore no defined shapes, constantly changing and altering with the movement of the bright glow. She assumed those shadows were stationary objects in the space she was laying in, though she still showed no interest in moving to see what they were.

Amongst the majority, however, was a more persistent shape. Naturally, it would distort and bounce gracefully on the wooden ceiling at the dancing glow’s demand, but through it all, the shadow itself owned its own fluidity. She could make out what appeared to be an arm steadily turning over and over in circles. There was something held in its hand, though she couldn’t make out exactly what it was. Occasionally, the arm would stop its rotating motions to pull on whatever it held – or was it lifting it? Yes, it was lifting it. A ladle of some sort. Shortly after she labeled the mystery object, a larger shadow came into view; a head and upper body bending forward seemingly peering into the ladle. The person who inspected whatever was on the ladle didn’t stay in view for long, already dipping the ladle back into what must be a pot of some sort to continue their stirring. It was then that she picked up on an earthy aroma warmly enveloping the air, reminding her of flourishing fields and endless plains of grass sprouting from earth recently bathed in cooling rainwater.

Where exactly was she supposed to be? The last place she remembered being in was the cedar woods. She had been close to death then, but had she actually died? Was that what the vision of Rengoku related to? Was that why she was in the Mugen Train Station with him?

No, that didn’t make sense. If the afterlife was really cruel enough to torture her with those kinds of visions, then it would be the same kind of hell she lived in day-to-day. Besides, even if that was the afterlife, why wasn’t she at the station now? This wooden ceiling didn’t belong to the modernized train station, that much she was aware of. It was much too rustic for a bustling, up-and-coming city like the one that station resided in.

That begs the question: if she hadn’t died and she wasn’t laying in the space between life and death, then where exactly was she?

She knew she should turn her head. She kept asking and wondering where she was while watching the shadows and lights on the ceiling, but she was fully aware she could begin to gather an answer if she simply looked around.

Pull her gaze away from the ceiling.

Lead her eyes astray from the calming, warm glow.

It’s such a simple action. If she just turned her head even the slightest bit, she would already have more detail and information to work with to piece together what had happened to her, but that one simple, minuet action felt harder for her to accomplish than the training she endured to become a Demon Slayer and every mission she ventured on up to this day. Turning her head away meant turning away from the warmth of the orange and bright golden glow which kept her company during their comforting play. Pulling her gaze away from the lights and shadows on the ceiling meant turning away from so much more than just absent, blissful ignorance.

It meant turning away from the vision.

It meant turning away from the comforting, temporary fake feeling of okay.

It meant turning away and simply allowing the door to close and lock again.

‘You’ll be okay.’

She grimaced lightly as his voice echoed in her mind. She could practically hear him laughing, could practically see him smiling down at her with reassurance from within the glow. He said that with so much confidence and faith in his voice for her, but how could he be so sure? How could he believe in her that much when she held no faith in her own self? Though he had been certain of what he said, she was convinced she would never truly be okay again, so she wanted to keep pretending. She wanted to keep existing in the pathetic copycat of the safety and encouragement he made her feel when he was still there. When he spoke to her. When he expressed so much belief in her when it was difficult to see an ounce of worth on her own.

When he was still alive.

She lingered a few moments longer, envisioning his smile and repeating everything he told her in the station, the clang, pank, clang, pank of the shadows having long since turned to soothing background noise. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t move ever again, but deep down, she knew she had to – even if it was only to live up to Rengoku’s beliefs in her.

Though it was difficult, though it shattered her heart to watch his image dissipate and fade amongst the dancing lights, _______ began to turn her head in defiance against everything in her that told her to sit there and rot. Slowly, stiffly, she turned to the left, taking in the mostly barren sight of the room she was laying in. In the process of it is when she realized she was tucked into a futon, its thick comforter hugging her close to the thin mattress beneath her. Not only that, but her Nichirin sword had been taken away from her, although it was still close by, leaning against the wooden wall facing her. Being disarmed didn’t unnerve her. It simply was.

Beside the futon itself was a lantern, its metal frame housing a burning candle. For a few seconds, her gaze lingered on the intricate cage of the lantern, taking in its crisscross detail highlighted by the flame burning within. When she caught herself becoming too comfortable with the soothing glow once again, she forced herself to shift her gaze beyond the lantern.

Close by, there was an irori lit, the planks of wood in the pit of sand roaring with brilliant, lively flames which licked at the underbelly of a dark pot strung above them. The most jarring part of the scene, however, was the person who had been casting the shadows on the ceiling she was watching mere moments ago.

Of all things she expected to see, Akaza tending to something in an irori’s pot while she laid in a futon a few feet away from him was not one of them. He was stirring something he had cooking over the open flames, his dual-colored eyes focused on the broth. The glow of the flames danced and reflected off of his skin much as they had done on the ceiling, highlighting his features to her from the angle she observed him in.

He has long eyelashes…

It was an odd thought, but it was one of the first things she noticed, the very first being how much his eyes stood out even in the dimness of the room they were in and the fierce glow of the irori’s fire. The blue of his sclera was shattered with dark veins, the brilliant color reminding her of a cloudless, sunny day, his striking golden irises taking the role of the sun for themselves.

What does that make his eyelashes then? Pink and full…Maybe an oncoming sunset?

Again, a strange thing to think about. She was just soothingly fascinated by his natural colors and how much they actually stood out. His nature as a demon and the terrible things he had done set aside, Akaza was quite beautiful in his own regard, but maybe that was her artistic side talking. She used to be the type who appreciated that sort of thing, but every now and again, that side of her personality peeked up from the murky depths they now hid beneath to help her cope with the world around her.

He was, after all, the reason why Rengoku was gone.

“You’re awake.”

The comment startled her some, causing her to shift slightly on the futon as she turned her focus to the demon as a whole. Had he maybe heard her head moving? Or maybe he saw her eyes open from the corner of his? Who knows? He seemed the observant type, something that was taken to an extraordinary level when paired with a demon of his caliber.

“Good to see. I was starting to wonder whether you’d be out cold ‘til morning.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. His eyes remained on the pot and what he was stirring, his free hand resting in a fist upon his lap. The expression on his face was one of neutral concentration, not aggressive nor particularly friendly. He just…was. Paying attention not to burn whatever it was he was brewing.

“Wh…Where…” She began to speak, her throat feeling raw, her voice sounding not like her own to her. She frowned in distaste, weakly clearing her throat and swallowing the dry lump before continuing. “Where am I…?” Her voice came out in a murmured whisper, almost lost to the crackling of the lively flames of the irori, but not to Akaza.

“In an old cabin, I guess is the best way to describe the place.” He hummed thoughtfully, his expression softening with a light purse of his lips as he pondered his choice of words. “I found it a long time ago. Abandoned. So, it’s my cabin now.” He corrected himself, nodding his head, satisfied with the clarification.

“Your cabin…” She echoed, her eyes wandering away from him to take a better look at the cabin. There didn’t seem to be any signs of struggle anywhere she looked. No claw marks on the walls, no broken bits of furniture scattered on the ground, no old bloodstains forever soaked up by the wooden floor. The only thing that was slightly out of place was the fact that the windows were boarded shut, but seeing as he had come to claim the place as his own, it made sense that they would be that way. “Why did you bring me here…?”

“You weren’t making a whole lot of sense back in the woods, but if I had left you where you were in the state you were in, you’d be dead by now. I knew you’d be safe here until you woke up, so I just brought you with me.” He replied matter-of-factly as he pulled the ladle he was stirring with out of the pot to prop it on one of the handles. Turning to the other side of him, she watched him pick up a cup he had waiting on the floor before taking the ladle once again and dipping it into the pot. He poured a little over two ladles full of the broth he had cooking, steam wafting above the cup he handled with care. Once it was full, he propped the ladle back on the pot’s handle and stood to his feet. Her gaze followed him as he walked over to her, their eyes meeting while he closed the short distance between them until he was kneeling down by her bedside.

“Sit up.”

She knew what he said was more of an order than it was a request, but the way he said it and the gentle way he looked at her confused her by suggesting it came from a good place. It was bizarre, to say the least, the way this demon spoke to her with such…decency despite the unwavering firmness of his voice. Her brow furrowed slightly at the detail, her lips parting the slightest bit more so in bemusement than with intention of speaking.

“Ah,” He seemed to realize something when she didn’t react after a few seconds. “That’s right. Human. You’re human…” He muttered to himself, carefully setting the steaming cup on the floor beside him before turning back to her, his hands coming to rest on his laps again.

“Do you need help?”

Do I need help…?

What was going on? This is the demon that killed Rengoku? How? He was treating her with respect and even offering to help her sit up if she couldn’t do so herself. She had heard of the other demon on the Mugen Train, Enmu, who had lured people in with false kindness of sweet dreams before he plunged them into horrific nightmares, but Akaza didn’t have that kind of profile. From what she was told, he was an abrupt and upfront fighter; someone who didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point. He wasn’t a manipulative demon. He was a close-range demon who fought for the sport of it, starving for the thrill of a challenge like the one Rengoku had to offer that night.

This demon isn’t at all what she expected to be confronted by when she set out to the woods tonight.

Even in her baffled silence, he patiently waited for some kind of response from her, no annoyance or hasty agitation in the way he looked at her. His hands remained on his laps, not moving an inch to touch her, but his striking stare did remain on her face, studying her the same way she studied him. That is, until his gaze had shifted towards the cup at his side, his head nodding in its direction as well before he refocused on her.

“It’s an herbal tea. I went to fetch some water and to find the herbs and roots I needed to make it for you while you were asleep. You’re weakened from your work with the lessers. I noticed. This should help.” He informed her, offering a small smile to appear friendlier. He understood her apprehension. If their roles were switched, he’d be apprehensive too. From a human’s perspective, what was a demon supposed to be serving them from a pot of a boiling brew they couldn’t even see because of their incapacitated state? It really could be anything, so it’s not like he expected her to fully believe him the moment he brought it over and explained it to her.

Hell, even he couldn’t believe he had this herbal remedy stored away somewhere in his faintest memories.

He supposed it made some sense. He was human once, but that was centuries ago. Yet, he somehow remembered the recipe and what he had to look for as if he had made the tea every day since he was turned.

Something about her triggered the memory, that was all he was sure about.

“…How do I know you’re not lying…?”

He let out an amused breath, his head tilting again in his good humor.

“I guess you don’t. You just have to take my word for it.”

She shook her head the slightest bit at him, a distant look befalling her as her lips angled into an exhausted frown.

“Why didn’t you kill and eat me…?” She asked, the question leaving her so naturally, it unsettled her; unsettled her how much she wanted to know; unsettled her how much she had wished he had been what she had expected. Something in her told her he had ulterior motives. That he was keeping her alive to make the thrill of the kill more exciting in some way or another. Maybe he thought if he gave her the idea of being spared, she would take back her death wish and be eager to escape to the village. Then, he could enjoy the chase, too, before inevitably sinking his fanged maw into the tender flesh of her neck when he tackled her onto the ground.

Akaza, however, didn’t answer her question. He simply stared at her, the small smile he had given her straightening the slightest bit but retaining its foreign friendliness despite it. Genuine.

“Would you like me to help you sit up so you can drink your tea?” He repeated his question instead, making no move to place his hands on her if she didn’t answer him. She considered denying him, but she supposed she didn’t have much to lose either way she went about this. So, she finally gave him a small nod of her head.

“Please…”

His smile widened up a bit once more when she accepted his help, giving her a curt nod of his own in return. Reaching over, he folded the futon’s comforter halfway so the upper half was resting on her legs. Once he did, he turned to her as she began to prop herself up carefully on her elbows. She would wince with each move she made, he noticed. As gently as he could, he slid one of his hands down her back until he had it pressed against the middle of it, slowly pushing her upward while his other hand took a hold of hers to help give her more support.

His hand felt warm to her. Probably warmer than it should be, since he had been holding the steaming cup of tea. Looking upon his larger, masculine hand, taking in the feeling of his calloused palm wrapped around her own, she took notice that the blood from the other demon he fought earlier was gone from his skin. Her eyes traveled up his arm, across his chest and down his other arm. Nothing. The blood was gone, cleaned away probably while she was asleep. For a second, she wondered if the fight had actually happened, but the speckling of blood around what she could see of the ends of his white pants told her otherwise. Images came to mind of the short-lived confrontation he held with the lesser demon as she stared at the bloodstains on his clothing. It was a stark reminder of how powerful this man actually was.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” She repeated her question, her gaze slowly lifting to meet with his once more when he helped her sit up properly. “If you wanted to, you could have done away with me just as easily as you did that other demon…Why didn’t you…?”

His small smile had fallen entirely this time, morphed to a bemused look of his own.

“Why did you want me to kill you?”

The retort caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting any kind of questioning on his part of this. He’s a demon, after all. Demons kill and eat humans. That’s just what they do. That’s what they’ve always done. Why would he care for her reasoning? Why did he want to know? She didn’t know, but being put on the spot like that so curtly made her squirm in discomfort, her gaze dropping to her hand he still had gripped in his own.

She had spilled a lot of what she thought about her predicament when she approached him, she knew, but…telling him exactly why was something she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to tell anyone why. Nobody knew. Nobody had the slightest idea that she had these thoughts running across her mind, and the one person who came closest to uncovering her inner turmoil was dead now. It was an accumulation of a lot of things which caused this spiral in her person, and the thought of saying all of those things aloud left her feeling unbearably shameful and vulnerable in a way she absolutely abhorred.

Akaza didn’t press. He simply pulled his hand away from her back and picked up the cup of herbal tea, bringing it down to their joined hands. There, he released hers and placed the cup in her grip, wrapping both of his hands around her own this time to make sure she held onto it properly. When she didn’t lift her head nor squeeze the cup on her own, he leaned down and peered up at her, offering a gentle, patient smile.

“You should drink it while it’s warm. It’ll be good for you.”

At first, as soon as his face came into her line of sight, she turned her eyes away from his, looking off to the wall on the right of them. When she felt him lightly squeeze her hand in both of his, however, she hesitantly looked back again. His eyes were softly narrowed, masking some of the kanji in both of his irises, and through them, he still gave off that friendly vibe he’s been carrying from the start.

His hands completely covered both of hers, enveloping them in a warmth she didn’t expect him to radiate. She had assumed it was from the cup of tea, but both of them felt the same way and it wasn’t changing after he put the cup down. She had always expected the touch of a demon to feel…cold. Chilling. Yet, his wasn’t. It was the kind of soft warmth you’d seek out during a cold winter’s day. The type of warmth you’d want wrapped around you when you feel scared and need comfort. The type of warmth you’d hide in during a stormy night to help lull you to sleep alongside the melodies of pattering rain. How could something so…wholesome radiate from someone like him? She didn’t know how she was supposed to take this nor how she was supposed to react. Should she really believe in that friendly gaze and patient smile? Should she buy into the kind act he was showing her?

Without a doubt, she would be a fool if she did.

She gave him a small nod of her head and squeezed the ceramic cup in her hand. He pulled his hands away from her own when she did, bringing them back down to his laps as he straightened up his posture again. She followed his lead and straightened up a bit as well, her gaze dropping again to peer into the cup she brought close to her chest in both of her hands. There were herbs floating in the amber-tinted brew, partly living up to the demon’s explanation. Bringing it closer to her face, she took a curious whiff of the drink, noting that the earthy aroma she picked up on earlier had come from the tea. Letting out a shaky breath, she dropped her shoulders and caved, finally deciding to bring the edge of the cup to her lips to take a gulp of the warm brew.

After the first two gulps, she pulled the cup away from her and grimaced heavily, making a face of clear distaste. It certainly tasted like a medicinal tea, that’s for sure. Actually, it tasted almost identical to the remedies the medics at the Butterfly Estate often had her take whenever she was brought in with injuries. Granted, she may be wrong about that. All those herbal remedies tasted the same to her: like dirt. She never liked drinking them, and this tea Akaza had given her tasted just like the others. She didn’t want to take another sip, but when she peeked over in his direction, he was staring at her pointedly, lifting an eyebrow at her in question. She didn’t need to be told what that look meant. The medics gave her similar looks whenever she reacted this way…It was just jarring to receive that look from a demon of the twelve Kizuki.

Deciding not to try her luck as she often did with the Butterfly medics, she tentatively brought the cup back to herself, stalling in awkward pauses until she eventually pressed it to her lips once again. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so she just went for it. She shut her eyes tight and drank the warm tea in large gulps, slightly tilting her head back to take in all the liquid while doing her best to avoid the leaves in her way. When there was barely anything left, she pulled the cup away from herself again and dry-heaved to the right, a short series of coughs following soon afterwards.

Akaza chuckled a bit at that, taking the cup away from her and setting it to the side once more before leaning over to pat at her back with minimal strength in the gesture. Only just enough to help her get over her coughing fit.

“I take it you’re not a tea type?” He questioned, smirking lightly in amusement.

“Medicinal tea tastes like mud…If that is what that was…”

She replied without missing a beat this time once she had calmed down, shakily bringing her hands up to wipe at her eyes and face. When she pulled them away, she looked at her palms and narrowed her eyes in confusion for a moment. There were…red streaks covered all over them. When she realized it was blood – dried blood she must have dabbed onto her hands when she wiped the tears off of her skin – her hands began to tremble before balling up into tight fists and quickly falling to her sides out of her sight. All of a sudden, she became all too aware of the scent of blood on her person – the demon’s blood Akaza had wiped on her back in the forest before everything went dark.

“Oh, that’s right,” He commented, beginning to stand to his feet with her cup in his hand. “You probably want to wash off after what happened earlier, right? Let’s go do that now.” She looked up at him when he said that, watching his back as he walked to the other side of the cabin to place the cup on the dresser before he opened up one of the top drawers. He pulled out an old towel from within, gray in color. Then, he wandered over to the closet and pulled out a small wooden washing basin which he tucked the towel into.

When he heard no kind of reaction or response from her, he turned around and lightly waved the basin in her direction.

“You do want to wash away the blood, don’t you?”

Again, he was being so polite and considerate. It threw her off, and perhaps in the right state of mind, she would’ve rejected his kindness and labeled it a manipulative fraud. Right now, however, she simply saw it as an odd direction life was taking her in, completely skewed from the one she had chosen to walk upon earlier this evening. Maybe it was also because she was desperate to get rid of the scent of blood on her. Normally, she was completely accustomed to it, but having it on her person like this, mixed with her tears, with what she had dreamed of still in her head? It was suffocating.

“…Yes, please…”

“So polite~” He mused lightheartedly, walking over to her bedside once more, but this time, he simply bent down by the knees, his legs spread on either side of him with ease, his free hand resting upon his left thigh. Offering her a more playful grin this time, he handed her the basin with the towel, and once she accepted them, he propped both of his hands on his knees as he looked her in the eyes once again. “Right, then. I figure you can’t walk much right now, can ya? ‘Course not. You’re pretty beat up. So, do you want me to help again?”

“I…I-I suppose I need your help, yes…” She really couldn’t deny it. She had been a wreck when she wandered into these woods, and right now? There was no way she could do much of anything without it hurting her like hell. Acting like she could walk without support through the woods on her own again would be a pathetically obvious display.

“Right. Okay, hold tight.” When she had been expecting him to help her to her feet so she could walk with her arm over his shoulders, he had surprised her by instead pushing the comforters of the futon completely off of her before scooping her up in his arms, one hooked beneath her knees and the other coming to wrap around the back of her waist. Easily, he propped her body up against his chest, secure in his grip. Tight and cozy.

_______, in response, stiffened up something fierce, ignoring the ache it forced to spread throughout her body. Her arms hugged the basin he had given her tightly against her chest, her nails digging into the wood while she stared up at him wide eyed.

“Comfortable enough? Is it okay for my hands to be where they are?”

His…hands?

What kind of a question was that? He cared about something like that?

“I-I…Y-yes, this is fine…”

“Okay, good. Tell me if that changes on the way.”

She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This man – this demon – had gone from crushing and dismembering one of his own kind brutally without an ounce of remorse, to making her medicinal tea and caring about the way he touched or held her. It totally, completely contradicted everything she thought she knew and left her floating in a strange feeling of vacillation and gray areas.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out.

Yet, there she was, being carried out of this demon’s cabin, snug in his arms.

On the way out into the cedar woods, she even became acutely aware of his large hand pressed firmly against her waist, propping her up against his chest. She could feel each individual inked digit of his digging securely into her waist to keep her close to his person and safe from falling. She could feel his palm splayed on her side, radiating with that surprising warmth of his even through her uniform. Come to think of it, pressed up against his bare chest like this, she could feel his body radiated that same warmth as well.

She could have told him to move his hand if she wanted to, but decided against it.

The warmth felt soothing.

Familiar.

Instead, she allowed her head to lull against his bicep and for her eyes to slowly close as she watched him walk them away from the cabin, the light of the flames within still somewhat visible through the sliding doors.

Instead, she decided to keep pretending.

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Thank you so much for making it this far and supporting me and my work! I hope you've been enjoying the story up to now and that it's been meeting expectations! <3 Your support encourages me to continue with this series, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for caring and interacting with it! <3 God bless you all and til next time! <3

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