Theme: idk honestly
Note: i did NOT plan this well so it’s all over the place and i was rushing towards the end
ok cw: yoriichi angst for some reason, michikatsu becomes a bitch(?), they’re gay but rlly dont act upon it, vampire!au (just replace demons with vampires and all is well), this is long
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“Nobody knows how long vampires have been around, we don’t know where they originated, how they became. Only that they roam this very country—this very earth! You may have met one before without even realizing. But that could equally be highly unlikely because there’s a reason we’re forced to be apart. Vampires are cruel and they only take and want. They kill to become stronger, to become the strongest. That’s how they choose their leaders; who rises in the ranks. They’re different, unlike us. And we must separate ourselves from them, lest we become their prey! They may choose to make us one of them—and near to always it’s without our consent. So as mysterious and hidden as they might seem now, they’re dangerous and we want to always steer clear from them,” came the hushed and dramatic voice of the Tsugikuni twins’ mother. She gave them a playful grin, holding her hands up and curling her fingers as if to attack.
Yoriichi gazed up at her with a mixture of fear and awe. No doubt he was silently taking in every word, engraining them in his mind as if he hadn’t heard the tale many times before. And that’s all it was. A story.
Michikatsu rolled his eyes at the theatrics, leaning back against the pillows of his futon. “We all know it’s fake, mom!” he said, giving Yoriichi’s wounded expression an exhausted sigh. “You can stop pretending, we’re older now!”
His mother only smiled, ruffling his hair as she kissed his forehead. She pulled him and Yoriichi into a hug. “Goodnight,” she told them. “Don’t let the—”
“Vampires bite!” Yoriichi chimed in.
“Vampires aren’t real!” Michikatsu hissed. “Bed bugs are the real problem here.”
Yoriichi huffed but only clambered into his own futon. Their mother stood, making sure they were tucked in before she turned off the light.
“I love you both,” she said, closing the door behind her. Her footsteps padded away quietly until they heard the sound of a slide door opening and closing as she entered her bedroom. Then they both sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness.
“They are real! Mother says so,” Yoriichi whispered before Michikatsu could say otherwise.
“Are not! They’re clearly made up. Have you ever heard someone say, ‘oh, my sister turned into a vampire yesterday?'” Michikatsu shot back, his voice rising before he could stop himself.
They both froze, staring at the door. When nobody came, they continued their argument.
“It’s not like everybody knows about them,” Yoriichi said. “They’re not that common knowledge…”
“Yeah, because they’re not real.” Michikatsu crossed his arms.
“They are!”
“Tell me that after you’ve caught one and bring back its head or whatever.” Michikatsu huffed, laying back down and tugging his blanket up.
“I will!” Yoriichi’s voice came out quiet, muffled by his pillow as he buried into the sheets, indignant from all Michikatsu’s insistence. That was fine. He was the younger of the two, still caught up in these fantasies. Michikatsu was sure that he’d grow out of them eventually. He’d love to see Yoriichi admit to him that he was wrong. Mostly because he was usually right—but this time, Michikatsu knew as a fact he was wrong.
He smiled contently to himself, closing his eyes. It was only a matter of time until reality sunk in.
………
It had been nearly three years since Michikatsu had seen Yoriichi. It was nothing truly concerning—Yoriichi had found a wife and moved in with her—but Michikatsu was constantly bored. He’d only found small jobs that gave him just enough money to keep going, barely sustainable. Their mother had died a few years ago, but their father was apt on pushing the limits to his life so all the money he had, he refused to pass down to either of the twins until he died. So that left Michikatsu with a lot of free time, mostly spent wandering around or searching for a better job.
At first it had been alright, even when Yoriichi had gone. But now it was becoming a constant rush of curiosity and boredom and just wishing he knew what the hell Yoriichi was doing. To the point he began worrying about the lack of contact he was receiving. He was used to Yoriichi sending letter after letter to ensure that Michikatsu was alright and such, equally confirming his own security. But there had been little of that in the past year and a half-ish, which was, in Michikatsu’s view, of great concern. So he made a mental note to endeavor in squeezing a response from his brother.
With these thoughts still fresh in his mind, he arrived at his house to find a visitor on the front porch.
“Yoriichi?”
He was in a state of shock and almost tumbled over as Yoriichi took him in an embrace.
“Aniue, I am glad to see you,” he said in a hushed tone. He seemed relieved somehow. As he had grown, he’d take on a sort of nonchalance to his expressions. A stoic face that Michikatsu had eventually grown used to as time went on. So the concerned dip in Yoriichi’s eyebrows and the somewhat heartfelt reunion seemed off.
“Uhm. It’s been a long time,” Michikatsu said stiffly, extracting himself from the hug. “What happened? You were gone for a… year or so.”
“I’m sorry, Aniue,” Yoriichi murmured, bowing his head in an apology. “Uta, she… I’ve come here to warn you. I was worried that when I arrived, you were not home.”
Michikatsu raised an eyebrow. What was this all about?
“I was on a walk. You could’ve sent prior notice,” he said, a light accusatory note in his voice.
Yoriichi didn’t take the bait, his tone serious and a notch tense. Yoriichi? Tense? Really, what had happened?
“Uta died,” Yoriichi explained.
Michikatsu stared at him. Way to drop the stone, he thought, unsure how to react. Yoriichi had truly loved Uta, he knew that. She had been a sort of treasure to him, in a sense. Michikatsu had met her a couple times, though her energy had been a little unnerving for him. But she seemed sweet, and very healthy. Not the type to randomly drop dead.
“My… my condolences,” Michikatsu murmured quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “If I may ask—what happened? Did she grow ill…? When did this…?”
Yoriichi shook his head. “I don’t know who in particular, but it was a vampire. She was… She didn’t have any blood left.” In a sense, Yoriichi seemed to rival his own words. He looked pale just at the thought. But he continued, ignoring Michikatsu’s now very confused look. “She died a while ago—around a year and a half, I should think. I met hunters whose jobs are to kill vampires. I joined them quickly after I discovered my skill in the practice. But the point to my visit draws us here. I met a vampire, a couple days ago. He’s practically the strongest, he killed the last vampire leader—”
“Wait. Wait, wait, hold on.” Michikatsu held up a hand. “Are you actually- Are you seriously blaming your wife’s death on something that isn’t real? I know that murder is difficult on the mind, but, Yoriichi—”
“No, they are real. I’ve seen them.” Yoriichi met his gaze unfalteringly, daring him to deny him. Which, naturally, he did.
“Maybe you need to see a psychiatrist…” It wasn’t like he was trying to be rude, but there was no way Michikatsu was believing this story. How could Yoriichi just pop up after three years with news that his wife died, that he’d said nothing about it for a year and a half, and then found some job to slay these so called vampires?
Yoriichi frowned, obviously disliking the amount of distrust. “I’m not playing games, Aniue. Believe me, I would not lie. Not to you.”
Michikatsu mimicked the frown, less as mockery and more as disbelief. “Uh huh. Then what’s the end of this great story you’re leading up to? What’s this big climax you’re gonna pop with then try to convince me it’s more than some fairy tale.”
“It’s not a fairy tale,” Yoriichi said patiently. “But it is urgent. As I said, I met what’s to be one of the strongest vampires—and only barely killed him. He managed to get out alive… and he holds grudges. I’m worried he might try to target you. Either because he might mistaken you as me, or because he enjoys watching people suffer. There are many reasons why he might decide to go after you instead, and I do not want to risk it. So I came to warn you.”
Michikatsu took a moment to process this. “Warn me? That someone you made up in your head might come running after me, fangs bared? Look, I thought you’d grow out of this vampire phase by now. I’m very sorry about Uta, but you need to come back to reality.”
It was hard to make out Yoriichi’s expression. He looked slightly irritated, but also somewhat on the verge of giving up. It was clear that Michikatsu was not moving on his opinion. No matter how stubbornly Yoriichi tried to deny that these were just something to make him feel better about Uta’s death. It might seem cruel put like that, but it was only the truth.
“Alright, Aniue,” Yoriichi said, after a prolonged silence. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. May I ask if I could stay over for a day or two? I promise to stay out of your way.”
Michikatsu frowned. What ulterior motives could there be, though? If Yoriichi wanted to protect him from some fantasy enemy, alright. It wasn’t like anything would happen anyway.
“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh. “But don’t expect me to provide everything for you. I probably have an extra futon somewhere, and can spare you some food, but you do everything else yourself. I’m not quite living the life of an emperor.”
Yoriichi nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”
“Sure, whatever.” Maybe keeping Yoriichi within his view would ensure he didn’t go and run off with some illusive people with the delusion that he was killing vampires.
………
Yoriichi was a very mild person. He went about nonchalantly and carried himself undetectably so that, sometimes, Michikatsu forgot he was even there. The only thing was that, when Michikatsu tried leaving the house, despite his assurances to not be a bother, Yoriichi kept stepping in. Somehow, he seemed to sense immediately when Michikatsu approached any of the doors leading outside. Even if he was going out back to pour out the bathwater, Yoriichi followed him like a hawk, eyeing him until he went back inside.
About a week later, Michikatsu finally managed to get out without this bodyguard Yoriichi seemed to have self proclaimed himself. It was mostly because they needed food and Michikatsu did not want to go to town with a second shadow. Since it was close by anyway, Yoriichi let him go reluctantly, making him promise to be quick.
He was not quick, however. He made an effort to walk idly, strolling around almost aimlessly. He took his time buying food, then decided to make a detour into the nearby woods. There was a path that served as the long way back to his house if he went through the trees which he liked to take on nicer days. Today, it was mostly to spite Yoriichi, but the air was nice. Though the clouds obscured the sun, creating a sort of early morning feeling to it, the coolness of the day was pleasant. So he wandered about, humming quietly to himself. At one point, he heard shuffling somewhere amidst the bushes. Curiously, he approached. There seemed to be another person there, and he frowned. It better not be Yoriichi. He leaned forward and—
There was little time to react before he found himself pressed to the ground, face down, the light thumping of his groceries registering in his ears. Or maybe that was his heartbeat, fast and terrified as he felt a hand press firmly onto his mouth, another holding his throat. If he could struggle, he would’ve been thrashing, but there was a knee digging into his back and arms were pinned underneath him. Vaguely, he found that the hands pressed to his skin were cold, inhumane in that way.
A voice belonging to his captor spoke, the words drawled out in an almost bored tone. “Hm… You aren’t the right one, are you? As much as I loathe him, I must give him credit. He isn’t quite this weak.”
Michikatsu tried to breathe but, despite all his efforts, he couldn’t seem to get a single breath in. Was he going to die? He’d never done anything, truly. Think, think—had he ever been in debt to someone and forgotten to pay back? No. Perhaps he had—
“Sometimes I forget how responsive human hearts are. It’s amusing. I’m not sure anyone could count how fast yours is beating right now,” the voice above him said.
Human hearts? What, was this a talking animal? No, of course not. But then—
Michikatsu froze—although, really, he was already stuck in place. There was something about the cold touch, the lack of warmth in this person’s hand. The movements much too quick, much too precise. And the way he referred to people as if he wasn’t one.
Had Yoriichi hired someone to pretend to be a vampire? He had to have. What else was this? Clearly, he wanted to get back at Michikatsu for his denial about their existence.
But then again, none of that made sense. Yoriichi had never been the petulant type, had always been level-headed and reasonable, except when it came to his belief in vampires. And even then he hadn’t pushed Michikatsu too far. Not this far. Where would he even find someone with all these attributes?
So, what? Were these ‘vampires’ actually real, or was this a dream and he was actually just going insane?
Either way, the hand pressed to his throat felt pretty real. And the fact that he was slowly losing consciousness from the lack of air he was receiving. Unless that was just him waking up, leaving this dream. He better hope that’s all it was, especially as he found his vision fading. And then his head was hammered into unconsciousness. Fucking vampires.
………
He awoke. Which sounded a lot more dramatic than his actual, unceremonious falling-off-a-bed awakening. But that was how the man phrased it, gazing down at him with an frustratingly amused expression.
“Had a nice nap, Tsugikuni?” the same voice from before asked. The one from the man who had attacked him.
For a moment, Michikatsu was unable to make him out. He was disoriented. And his instinct to flinch back had only made him hit his head against the bed, which certainly didn’t help. To be fair, beds weren’t supposed to be this high up. He was used to futons, not whatever this upraised mattress was. But he managed a good look at this man as he was laughed at for who knows what.
The man bore short, wavy black hair and sharp red eyes. He was surprisingly small, giving Michikatsu the shame of being overpowered by someone who looked to be, what? Barely an adult? Younger than Michikatsu, at the very least. But he could at least console himself with the barely reassuring, and most unlikely, chance that this man might be a vampire.
The so-called vampire stopped laughing, leaning down even as Michikatsu tried retreating and pressing against the bed. As he averted his eyes from the unsettlingly blood-red gaze, the man’s words sunk in. Almost immediately, Michikatsu’s attention snapped back up. Before he could stop himself, the question tumbled from his mouth in a wave of shock.
“How do you know my name?”
The vampire man—he really needed a name—smirked. “Figured that out, finally? Humans have slow-working minds,” he commented idly, straightening and gazing down at Michikatsu. “You can relax. I only assumed your family name, I figured it would be the same as your… say, brother’s?”
Michikatsu tensed. How did he know about—
“Let me guess. Now you want to know how I know Yoriichi?” the man asked. He smiled and, briefly, Michikatsu caught a glimpse of sharp, unnaturally so, canines. But he had little time to dwell on that because he found the spoken name registering in his mind. Perhaps it took a moment too long because he refused to believe it, or maybe he hoped he had misheard it. But no. Yoriichi. Of course he had something to do with this. But what even was this?
Michikatsu’s head spun and he cowered slightly. He was beginning to notice a subtle ache in his throat as he breathed. It must’ve been from when the man had decided to cut off his air supply. But why did it still hurt? How long ago had that been?
He looked back up, realizing he was expected to reply. When he went to speak, another question slipped from his lips instead of the answer he’d meant to give. “Who are you?”
He received a laugh at that, which seemed like a good sign. At least there was no threatening glare, or whatever.
“Kibutsuji. Or, well, tell me your name,” Kibutsuji prompted. His demand was idle, however. Lacking hostility.
“Tsu- Tsugikuni,” the idiotic Tsugikuni stuttered.
Kibutsuji scoffed. “First name.”
“Michikatsu,” he replied mechanically, heat rising in his cheeks. He was so fucking pathetic.
“Hm. Okay. I’m Muzan. Call me that, alright, Michi-chan?” Kibutsuji said, a smirk curling his lips.
Michikatsu cringed at the nickname. Only his mother had used it for him, and only when he’d been very young. He was sure Yoriichi would’ve, though, if he wasn’t constantly calling him Aniue.
He nodded anyway, much to Muzan’s satisfaction.
“Good. Any other questions, or can we put this aside and move on?” Muzan asked. He didn’t look quite so impatient, however. As if he had all the time in the world.
“What are you?” The question came inadvertently. Stupid Michikatsu and his anxiety. It seemed he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
Muzan looked almost pleased at this. “So you’ve noticed? Or”—and his expression immediately darkened into a scowl—”did your dear OtÅto tell you?”
Michikatsu hesitated, unsure what the right answer was. But his reluctance seemed to be its own response because Muzan’s mood plummeted. Immediately, Michikatsu tensed. He didn’t like this.
“Let’s get back to Yoriichi, why don’t we?” Muzan asked with false pleasantry.
Completely out of fear, Michikatsu nodded. Muzan smiled. “Very well. Yoriichi. Now, where is he?”
An extremely uncomfortable beat of silence followed the question. Muzan sighed, loud and long. He put his hands on his hips, mimicking what Michikatsu assumed was supposed to be a scolding motherly pose. Of sorts.
“How about we don’t keep things from me, hm?” Muzan clicked his tongue at Michikatsu’s continuous muteness. “Listen, I don’t want to do this either. But I can’t find him. Usually, people are easy to find, but that dipshit is somehow avoiding me. I thought you were him at first, but obviously he isn’t that stupid. But I suppose you, as a human, should understand what hope can do in the moment.”
Unsure what to do with this information, Michikatsu remained silent, averting his eyes. As much as Yoriichi might irritate him from time to time—or, like, a lot—that didn’t make him any more keen to sell out his own brother. But the fact stood that if he couldn’t get Muzan’s attention away from Michikatsu’s home, Yoriichi was bound to be found. He wasn’t quite sure what Muzan wanted—unless he were to trust Yoriichi’s story from earlier—but the mere fact that Muzan was willing to kidnap Michikatsu was enough to tell him not to say anything. Also because he seemed like an asshole.
Even so, he itched to just reveal Yoriichi’s location. It was less out of anything towards either his brother or this strange man and more the fact that he was so utterly terrified, he wasn’t thinking rationally. No, okay, not utterly terrified. He wouldn’t let himself be stupid like that. Yoriichi would’ve been considerably calmer. Then again, Yoriichi was always unreasonably calm in situations he had every right to be screaming. So maybe that was just him.
Muzan gazed down at Michikatsu with an impatient frown. He seemed to be trying to hold back, using some wait-the-fear-out tactic or something. Probably just hoping Michikatsu would snap under the pressure. But then, Michikatsu realized, there wasn’t really much pressure. Muzan hadn’t even bothered to threaten him, likely assuming he’d feel anxious already. Ignoring the fact that he was kidnapped and in some place he now realized was actually quite fancy, there was no threat upon him to make him have any reason not to lie. Besides, like, being stuck here forever. But that would be an unspoken, not even certain threat. Empty, for now. Or maybe he was just hoping that’s all it was.
Nevertheless, he allowed himself to cling onto that thought.
“So?” Muzan asked, after several minutes crept by. Michikatsu flinched, having been so lost in thought he’d forgotten about his company.
“He’s… at his house,” Michikatsu mumbled. He kept his eyes down, praying his unwillingness to meet the eye was interpreted as shame rather than the fact that he was just running on lies. “I don’t know where he lives.”
“That’s a fucking lie. I know he’s somewhere around the place you were. I tried to follow him but a couple miles from where I found you, I lost him. So you can’t tell me that, unless you’re saying he lives near you,” Muzan scoffed. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
The strong urge to just admit the truth was boiling over. Michikatsu bit his lip, willing himself to keep going. Just a couple more words. Then Muzan would get rid of him. He could go home.
“He was visiting me. He left the day before you found me,” he managed.
“Oh, really?” The tone was full of scrutiny. “Hm. You asked me what I was. So what did he say? Pay you a visit to warn you and then just left? I’m sure he knew I was following him. Did he leave his poor, helpless Aniue to deal with the consequences of messing with me?”
Michikatsu did not appreciate the comment towards him. Choosing to ignore it, he shook his head slightly. “He was trying to tell me, but I didn’t believe him and so he left after a while.”
“With the knowledge that I might not follow after him?”
Ah, fuck. Michikatsu drew blank.
“I don’t know. I never… understand him,” Michikatsu said, rattling off whatever popped up in his mind. That, at least, was true. Yoriichi was nothing short of mystery to him.
Muzan watched him with an air of boredom. Either he didn’t believe him, or… Or what? How the hell did one discern a goddamn vampire? Assuming, of course, that this man was a vampire. Michikatsu wasn’t sure what to believe.
“I don’t understand him either,” Muzan finally supplied. At least he seemed to trust Michikatsu’s words at some level.
“Yeah.” It was more of a filler word, distracting Michikatsu from his anxiety. He wrung his hands on his lap.
Muzan hummed. “If you say so.”
Michikatsu frowned, confused. Muzan began to stroll away—towards a door. By some curse, Michikatsu spoke, blurting out a stupid, desperate, “Wait!”
“What?” Muzan didn’t bother turning.
“I can’t- I can’t just stay here! What do you want from me?” Michikatsu stammered. His cheeks flushed red. What the hell. Perhaps the ‘poor, helpless Aniue’ description was very fitting.
“Mm. I’ll bring food.” Muzan pointed to a door on his left. “Bathroom.”
“But-” Michikatsu was spluttering. Even so, Muzan was already opening the door. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of a hallway. But then the door slid shut. Michikatsu willed himself to stand, stumbling as he reached the door. He tried opening it to no avail. He swore under his breath. It wouldn’t budge.
“Shit,” he repeated.
A short laugh made its way to his ears from the other side of the wall. Footsteps indicated Muzan’s departure and Michikatsu stared at the unmoving door for a long time. Then he sunk down, forehead thunking against the wall. What the hell had Yoriichi done to get him into this mess?
………
Unsurprisingly, having nothing to do was very boring. Even with the semblance of a threat dangling over Michikatsu’s head, he was unable to care. He wasn’t sure how long it had been—there were no windows—and he was itching to get out. He’d tried several times to break through the walls, which should’ve been a lot easier. But somehow, he still ended up completely exhausted, panting as he sat down. He’d tried throwing things, using the minimal items he’d found in the room to hack through the door. No success. Stupid vampire walls—or whatever this was.
Despite his nonchalance towards his current situation, he couldn’t deny the anxiety that coursed through him. He came to terms with the fact that his constant activity was more like white noise, trying to fill his thoughts with something to tuck away the slowly boiling panic. Muzan hadn’t directly said anything that Michikatsu had to worry about, for the time being. But clearly, there was no intent on letting him leave. Maddeningly. Terrifyingly.
Michikatsu stood again. Given that Muzan hadn’t come to bring him food, it meant either that it was still the same day or he’d been forgotten. He wasn’t hungry, either, so his fatigue was most likely from the scare of his circumstance and the physical exertion. After a bit of pacing around and thinking over the fruitless attempts to escape, he stopped. He looked up, mulling something over. Maybe if he acted like he didn’t mind any of this, like he was just fine here, Muzan might allow him to wander through the halls. Then, maybe, he could escape. Although… there was a chance that this whole house—or building, or whatever this was—could end up just being an imitation of this room, but bigger and with many rooms inside. There could be no windows and doors. Or Muzan could easily lock them from the outside. What did this even look like to anyone standing outside the… place?
Michikatsu let the sigh leave him loudly. He was getting nowhere.
He trudged over to the bed he’d fallen out of—probably hours ago, but it felt like longer—and sat down. Despite his rampaging through the room, he hadn’t taken much of a look at it. Even now, with the minimal furniture in disarray, the room was much more elegant than Michikatsu was used to. If anything, it seemed like Muzan had stolen things from the emperor and took them into his own possession. The sheets of the bed he sat on were made of something smooth and soft to the touch. He lay down on them now, his body involuntarily relaxing into the mattress. He was tired.
Wearily, he finally allowed himself to slip under the covers. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since… anything, all he knew was that he hoped he would wake up and everything would be back to normal. Which was unlikely. But everyone had hopes and he was no exception. Also, his mind was muddled with exhaustion. He didn’t even know when his eyes had closed. Even so, little resistance followed as he drifted off into sleep.
………
Escape was impossible. Muzan had kept to his word, delivering food. At his footsteps, Michikatsu had tried to slip out of the door right when he entered. To no such success. And he had tried several times already. It was frustrating how quick Muzan was. Terrifying, really. Even worse, though he had long since caught onto Michikatsu’s futile attempts to leave, he was doing absolutely nothing. Which meant he had full confidence on his own ability to stop him—confidence that seemed well placed with each passing day.
With little to do except worry, Michikatsu found himself entertaining the idea that he could somehow bribe Muzan to get him out. It was unlikely anything would come of it, of course, but he allowed himself the hope. Also because there seemed no possibility of him leaving so if he didn’t let himself pretend that he could do it, he wasn’t sure if he could function.
Even with the slim to no chance that anything would come of it, he ended up initiating a conversation with Muzan. It was a stiff and awkward one, yes, but he was surprised to get a response. Perhaps Muzan was deprived of much interaction enough to want to speak to him. Either way, Muzan ended up staying there, watching him eat as they spoke. Granted, there was a mutual air of unease, but they struggled through it. Eventually, Muzan left with the now-empty plate, leaving Michikatsu to wander aimlessly in his room again.
Because of the somewhat success the first time, Michikatsu tried again the next day. As usual, a meal was brought in. Each day (which he could only discern due to his body’s decision to become tired, though after a while he became accustomed to the meal times as well), he was brought a plate or bowl of food twice. He assumed they were in the morning and evening, and they were all peculiarly brought by Muzan. He had figured that he’d be out searching for his brother and would send someone else to bring his food, or possibly leave him to starve, so the fact that it was always Muzan confused him. Either Muzan hadn’t bought his story, which was likely, or he was somehow coming back right on time every day. But it wasn’t as if he could ask—questions like that didn’t seem very much welcomed. So instead, he brought out the inquiry of Muzan’s… species.
After more time around him, Michikatsu had placed several things about Muzan that were unlike the typical human. For one thing, which he’d noticed before, Muzan was very cold. Something akin to a river in the dead of night. His eyes were an intense crimson, the irises slitted and cat-like. He was much too quick, almost as if he was sprinting from one place to the other without moving too much. He didn’t breathe. Or, it was very hard to tell. But if he was truly not breathing, it also meant his heart didn’t work. Or… he didn’t have one.
At that, Michikatsu’s first thought was ‘zombie.’ Which was unlikely. But just as unlikely was ‘vampire,’ though Yoriichi had told him that in the first place. The only other thing he could imagine was a very unusual case for a human being. The lack of heart/breathing could definitely attribute to Muzan’s pallor—you could hardly expect someone who’s heart barely (or didn’t) beat to have blood rushing through his body. But his inhumane speed and strength (Muzan had literally singlehandedly picked up the dresser with ease Michikatsu hadn’t been able to muster with his whole body) had no explanation and ultimately shot down the idea of a (human) condition. Leaving the word ‘inhumane.’ Bringing him back to vampire—or zombie, or tangible ghost, or whatever.
Nevertheless, Muzan responded to the question with a smile—teeth glinting in the light. He gazed at Michikatsu for a long moment, enough for him to grow increasingly uncomfortable, before he spoke.
“Didn’t OtÅto tell you? You said he was ‘trying to tell you about me.’ Surely he wasn’t as careless to not explain exactly what about me had to be told,” Muzan remarked, amused.
“No, uhm.” Michikatsu hesitated. “He said you were a vampire.”
Saying it out loud felt all the more ridiculous. Yet, somehow, Muzan clicked his tongue in a mocking praise.
“Good job, Michi-chan,” he said, nodding. “Very good.”
Michikatsu stared at him. Was this a joke? But Muzan only laughed at his reaction.
“Yoriichi wasn’t lying,” Muzan told him, speaking slowly, as if to a child. “OtÅto taught you well.”
“But-” Michikatsu’s jaw clenched. He stared more. “Vampires don’t exist.”
“Don’t they?” Muzan flashed another smile—this time to stress the canines set in his jaw. Somehow, the top two lengthened. He closed his mouth and Michikatsu caught a glimpse of them shortening again. He reached out, fingers grazing Michikatsu’s cheek as he brushed his bangs aside. “I think we’re both very much real. No?”
………
Michikatsu was in disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he should believe it—honestly, he could be in some prolonged dream right now, for all he knew—yet Muzan seemed so sincere. Granted, he was grinning, obviously enjoying Michikatsu’s crisis. But he didn’t appear to be lying, and how could he just lengthen his teeth on command? Nothing made sense and the more he thought about it, the more his head spun.
“Are you a little lost, dear?” Muzan cooed, brow puckered. He sighed disapprovingly. “But doesn’t it make sense now? Or did Yoriichi take all the brains. Certainly, you could pass off with those looks. But you would never survive with your slow working mind. I’ll even go as far as saying Yoriichi is pretty smart. I’d expect his brother to at least minimally mirror that.”
Involuntarily, Michikatsu let out a noise that could compare to a strangled animal—a scowl forming on his face. Muzan chuckled.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
Michikatsu didn’t even try to deny it. He just kept silent, hoping that he didn’t look like a petulant child as he struggled to contain the glare he desperately wanted to shoot towards Muzan.
“Hmm, we can’t have that. Wouldn’t want you thinking I was some weak human,” Muzan said idly. “I can prove it, if that’s what you need.”
He waited, posing the prompt with a raised eyebrow. When he got no response, he shook his head, growing slightly irritated.
“What, don’t you want me to demonstrate?” Muzan crossed his arms. “I can turn you into a vampire, maybe. You don’t seem very strong… and you’ve proved your idiocy, but I think I can work with that.”
Michikatsu gritted his teeth. He didn’t like the constant insults thrown at him. And the constant pointers towards Yoriichi’s high intellect. He didn’t need a so-called vampire to tell him that.
“How, exactly, would you demonstrate?” Michikatsu retorted.
Almost proud, Muzan nodded. “Better,” he hummed in satisfaction, unaware that the question was meant sarcastically. “Well, as I said, I could turn you into a vampire. Obviously, there’re drawbacks to that… but mostly for you.”
His response was a halfhearted hum. One of which did not believe him in the slightest. Muzan rolled his eyes, then stalked forward. Michikatsu cowered back as Muzan stood over him, frowning. Then, with a movement so quick it could’ve been teleportation, Muzan swooped down, one hand tilting Michikatsu head to the side, the other holding his shoulder. His teeth pressed to his skin, denting it.
Michikatsu took several whole seconds to react. He stiffened, his attempts to flinch away withering immediately. Muzan’s grip was tight on him, if minimal, and he couldn’t back away even if he tried with all his might. So he resorted to shouting. Or, more like, snapping desperate, shaky swears.
“What’re you doing—” he managed to grit out, giving up on struggling and instead moving his arms up to pry Muzan off—to no avail.
Muzan paused, retreating slightly to glance up at him with a wicked grin. “Proving I’m a vampire.” Then he bent back down, canines penetrating Michikatsu’s skin.
It felt like fire was beginning to coarse through Michikatsu’s neck and his ability to breathe was torn to shreds. He gasped, his body growing limp as something liquid trickled down to his shoulder. His head spun and then—
He was falling, backwards, forwards, spinning, dying—
He saw, briefly, Muzan standing back up. With a voice that echoed in his mind even after he hit the bed, the man said, “Should’ve listened to OtÅto.”
………
When Michikatsu awoke, he was on the floor again. It seemed he could not stay still as he slept for he had taken down the sheets with him in his thrashing. Groggily, he sat up, blinking. His neck ached and he rubbed it subconsciously, staring blankly ahead of him. Then, frowning, he let his fingers skim his skin again. Why were there no puncture marks?
At the thought—which had come involuntarily—everything seemed to flood Michikatsu’s mind again. He was on his feet, looking around frantically for Muzan. He realized, after a second, that he felt very light. As if gravity had lessened its hold on him, allowing him more room to breathe. It was unnerving.
The door to the bedroom slid open and Michikatsu’s eyes widened. He stilled—having long given up escaping—as Muzan entered at a leisurely pace. Upon seeing he was awake, Muzan closed the door and appeared by Michikatsu’s side.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked. He smirked, all-knowingly, looking proud of himself.
“What did you do to me?” Michikatsu’s voice came out meek. He was beginning to notice how different everything felt. Looking down at himself, however, he couldn’t quite place it. His skin seemed pale, but that could’ve been from the lack of sunlight he’d been getting recently.
“I killed you!” Muzan said gleefully.
Michikatsu stared at him. “What.”
“That’s how the procedure goes. How did you think vampires were turned?” Muzan inquired, pivoting to stand in front of him.
“I’m… I’m not dead, though,” Michikatsu said slowly. Tentatively, he brought a hand up, pressing it to his chest. Then he froze. What he should’ve felt then was panic. Instead, a sort of placidity washed over him. Muted anxiety—confusion?—was what he felt in place. He frowned, slowly, looking up at Muzan. “How can I… move? I don’t have… My heart isn’t— What did you do?”
Muzan was very pleased. “I killed you,” he repeated. “Poisoned, actually.”
“But- When? How?” Michikatsu pressed his hand back to his neck, recalling the feeling of teeth piercing him. He couldn’t quite remember too much, except that it had been anything but pretty. Vaguely, he felt like he must’ve fallen. But when had he been poisoned? With his food?
As if reading his mind, Muzan shook his head. “When vampires bite people, they release poison into the puncture wounds. It doesn’t affect us, of course. It’s almost like saliva, really. Just poisonous to anything else. But anyway, if we intend to turn the prey into a vampire, we also release some of our own blood into the human, which is what turns them. Getting vampire… say blood into your own blood stream before your heart has stopped all the way will turn you. It doesn’t work if the body’s been dead for a while, though,” he explained. He said it like it was some universally known fact. Then he looked at Michikatsu expectantly.
Trying to conjure some response, Michikatsu said, “So I’m dead?”
“In a sense,” Muzan agreed. “You aren’t human anymore. Thank me later.”
Michikatsu shook his head, as if it would help him reorganize his thoughts. This felt like a lot to take in and he was having trouble wrapping his head around it all. Luckily, Muzan was in a good mood and let him mull over everything for a while. Of course, his patience could only go on for so long and eventually he began to shift, evidently growing restless.
“How are we… talking? And breathing? And- How are we dead?” Michikatsu stammered. He supposed he would have to believe the vampire bit. There was no point trying to push that away anymore. Not that it made any more sense. But telling himself it wasn’t real only made his head hurt.
“Only the part of you that’s human is dead,” Muzan said, a tone exasperated. Michikatsu couldn’t blame him. None of this made sense, though. And it technically was Muzan’s fault for bringing him here in the first place.
“But I still-” Michikatsu paused. “Is there a mirror anywhere here?”
Muzan rolled his eyes. “You look the same.”
“Oh. But then how am I—me, as a ‘human’—dead? Are vampires… zombies?” he asked uncertainly. He earned a scoff at that.
“Idiot. It’s just how this works. I already explained most of what I know. I’m not the progenitor, or whatever you think I am,” Muzan chastised. “Figure it out yourself. Nobody told me this when I turned, I shouldn’t need to explain.” He seemed to think over something for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at Michikatsu. Then—”Actually, maybe we should give you some experience. I’ll show you how to do things.”
It took a moment for Michikatsu to understand. “Are you going to let me out?”
………
It was nighttime outside.
Muzan had waited several days before actually letting Michikatsu out. Which was for the best, really. Despite the minimal differences at first, it turned out that there was a lot more to get used to than Michikatsu had initially realized. Like the lack of effort it took to do anything. He kept overdoing his movements, often ending up sprawled on the floor because of it. He didn’t understand why a strength boost came with becoming a vampire, but Muzan didn’t seem to know either—telling Michikatsu to figure it out himself (which seemed to translate as ‘I don’t know, fuck off’)—so he turned his focus back to controlling himself. Which took nearly three days, embarrassingly. But once Muzan had approved of his somewhat capability to move normally, he guided him outside.
Obviously, any trust they had in each other was made of glass. Muzan all but kept Michikatsu on a leash, never letting him out of his sight as he herded him out. After so long inside, the night air and the freshness of everything overwhelmed him. He spent several minutes just standing there, taking everything in. Until Muzan got annoyed and began to shove him along the path.
As they walked, Michikatsu looked around. They were in some kind of forest, it seemed. He took a chance to look back, only to realize the house they had just left had miraculously disappeared. He hadn’t seen much of it inside (Muzan had blindfolded him to lessen the chance he could escape) and it seemed the outside didn’t even exist. He wondered, briefly, how they would get back, but then Muzan was tugging him down, off the path, and he lost track of his thoughts.
“Be quiet,” Muzan told him.
Michikatsu complied, albeit not without confusion. Then he noticed someone walking several yards away. The first thing he noticed was that the person seemed lost. The second thing was a heartbeat. The third was the amount of blood held in the new presence.
Almost immediately after the thought crossed his mind, Michikatsu tensed. He needed the blood. His head throbbed with the sudden hunger that hit him. His canines lengthened on their own, piercing his bottom lip. Sensing this, Muzan gripped his arm tightly.
“Idiot. Don’t move,” he hissed.
It was all Michikatsu could to do obey the command. He itched to pounce the person—his fingers twitched, his legs ached. Even so, he gripped onto the last shred of control he held. Then he watched as the person inevitably passed by them. Before he registered what was happening, the person was unconscious on the ground with Muzan straddling them. He turned to look expectantly at Michikatsu.
“Hungry?” he asked. Michikatsu almost laughed.
………
Disgusting. That was how Michikatsu felt, sitting with the aftermath of his first ‘feeding’ as a vampire. The aftertaste of blood sat heavy on his tongue. Now, it was metallic. Bitter with the realization that he’d just drunk enough blood to satiate himself for weeks, leaving him full of guilt and confusion. At the time, he’d drank with fever, his head spinning with the satisfaction. Then, the blood had been sweet. Making him relax, a guttural groan clogging his throat only to be washed down with the crimson red drink. But now, he couldn’t remember why he’d felt like that.
Glancing up at Muzan, he felt himself grow steadily uneasier. Several days ago, when Muzan had explained about being a vampire, Michikatsu had glossed over most of it. He hadn’t realized how much he hadn’t actually taken in until he’d experienced what Muzan had said. Until he’d pulled back from this unsuspecting person’s neck, his mouth stained red, his breath coming short.
Even as these thoughts spun in Michikatsu’s mind, Muzan gazed at him with something of a sense of pride. Like salt in a wound, he added, “Good job.”
Michikatsu stared at him. Muzan laughed.
“You’ll get used to it, eventually. Don’t worry,” he assured him. Michikatsu didn’t feel particularly reassured.
Muzan brushed himself off. He tossed the body aside carelessly.
“Let’s get back inside. Can’t have you running off now, hm?” he said casually. He presented the blindfold again. Michikatsu took it.
………
It seemed that Michikatsu was proved wrong once again. He did, in fact, get used to feeding on blood after less than a week. Even Muzan appeared slightly impressed with his quick adaptability. Truthfully, Michikatsu found that this was much more fulfilling than eating had been as a human. He wasn’t sure why, but it left him satisfied after a meal once he’d cast aside his doubts. It was easier that way.
As the days went on, Muzan began to allow Michikatsu a little more freedom. He would still keep him close when they went out, but he’d loosen his gaze on him, allowing him moments alone. More than that, he’d also let Michikatsu out of his room. Not out of the house, of course, but he was allowed to ‘roam the halls’ as Muzan had put it.
Eventually, ironically, the grew closer. Their conversations became less of an obligation to fill the silence and more a polite talk. Needless to say, they weren’t exactly friends. Something like tolerated presences.
Through all of it, Muzan continued his search of Yoriichi. He only mentioned it once, on accident, and somehow Michikatsu found he’d nearly forgotten about it all. It had slipped his mind how all of this had started. Strangely, he could hardly remember most things before his time here with Muzan. When he mentioned his somewhat memory loss, Muzan told him that it had happened to him as well. Something about the poison killing the human parts of them and ever so gradually ridding of their past memories.
At first, it had terrified Michikatsu. Or, as much as it could. His emotions had dulled considerably as a vampire. When Muzan had told him about the amnesia-ish condition that came with the transforming, anxiety had stirred quietly in Michikatsu’s stomach. But he’d come to terms with it after a while. He’d made peace with the fact and he didn’t really mind it anymore. He couldn’t remember what he might wish not to forget. Which he took as not wanting to remember anything.
What little he did remember seemed to revolve around Yoriichi, though. Little snippets of his brother. Twin brother. Yet, even so, there wasn’t much he could recall. Just small facts, like:
-Yoriichi was his brother, of course. The younger of the two.
-Yoriichi was quiet. Annoyingly so, apparently.
-He was smart.
-He’d known about Muzan… for some reason.
To sum it up, he knew little to nothing by now. It had been a little over two weeks since Michikatsu’s first feeding. His memory had already deteriorated. Muzan told him it was most likely because he’d injected Michikatsu with a lot of blood and that he’d spent a lot of time away from people before he’d turned anyway. Michikatsu didn’t mind, though. He felt like he didn’t necessarily need anything.
Time went on and Muzan let him eat by himself eventually. Didn’t let him out of the house without permission, but otherwise it was fine.
He’d also learned that the house was something of an heirloom. A large one, at that. Passed down by force.
Its previous owner was dead now, killed by Muzan himself. The owner before Muzan had taken the same procedures to retrieve the house. And the one before that, too. Apparently, a lot of things were done by force. Even within the vampire communities. They tended to work alone. Killing was how they rose in power. They could get stronger too, somehow. And currently, Muzan claimed to be one of the strongest. Which was why he had the house.
The house was something the vampires were drawn to. By want, of course. It had a concealment charm of sorts which hid it from anyone else except the direct owner (the one who had killed its previous) and it was extremely portable. That part, Michikatsu never understood. But Muzan made no attempt to explain—possibly, he didn’t understand it either—so he never pushed it.
One day, over a shared meal of a pair of humans who they’d caught near a town, Michikatsu brought up Muzan’s chase for his brother. Muzan raised an eyebrow at him, wiping his mouth and dropping the now-dead person onto the ground.
“Yoriichi?”
Michikatsu nodded, taking the final sips he could manage before tossing his own finished meal aside and helping Muzan conceal them under some bushes.
“Why’re you hunting him down?” he asked. It was another thing he couldn’t remember. Muzan had explained when he was a human, so he’d forgotten.
“Mm. You know… vampire hunters?” Muzan asked. He stood, kicking aside a branch. “Yoriichi’s one. Fucking irritating.”
“Oh.” Michikatsu followed him as they made their way away from the town. “Is he hunting you?”
“Yeah. Doing a shitty job,” Muzan said. He seemed to be humoring himself. “He’s good at hiding, though.”
Michikatsu hummed. They stopped. Muzan peered at something Michikatsu couldn’t see, then shook his head and continued into the woods.
“Can I help?”
“What do you mean?” Muzan didn’t bother turning. He kept his pace.
“Help you find him.”
“Why?” Now, Muzan stopped. He looked at Michikatsu suspiciously.
Michikatsu frowned at the sudden distrust. “He seems to be causing a lot of trouble…” He was quick to stop the ‘for you’ that was going to follow the words, knowing they’d only do damage. “And I don’t think I liked him before either.”
Muzan nodded slowly. “I’m fine. I feel like you’d get caught quickly, anyway.”
Ignoring the insult, Michikatsu thought for a moment. Then, as they began to walk again, something occurred to him.
“Why do you keep me here, then?”
“What?”
Michikatsu shook his head. “I’m not… I’m not particularly helpful to you, and you did say vampires prefer working alone. You wouldn’t gain anything from killing me, either, since I’m nothing compared to you…” He trailed off, unsure where he was going with this. But Muzan gave it some thought anyway.
“You’re just…” Muzan shrugged. He glanced back at Michikatsu. “It’s good to have a pretty face around when all I see are the disgusting hunters and mountains of humans.”
Pretty face? Michikatsu raised an eyebrow but followed dutifully when Muzan directed him into the currently invisible house. It faded into existence around him as he stepped forward, the now familiar halls surrounding him.
“Am I good company?” he asked.
It was meant as a joke. Maybe a closing to the conversation. But Muzan answered it anyway. Quietly.
“You can be.”
………
Muzan was gone again. Searching for Yoriichi, or something. Michikatsu had just fed so he wouldn’t need to eat again for a while. He idled around the house instead, bored. He was stuck on what Muzan had said the day before. Nothing in particular, really. Just everything. About Yoriichi, about the vampire hunters, about Michikatsu’s incompetence, and then about him being ‘good company.’ The latter felt like some fever dream, really. Muzan reserved compliments for sarcasm. If he had any genuine ones, they went unspoken. Michikatsu had assumed the pretty face comment hadn’t been sincere, so he’d brushed by that quickly after. But the soft, almost shy, ‘You can be’ felt… real. Which made it ever the more unrealistic.
Even knowing this, Michikatsu let himself indulge in the possibility that it had been meant sincerely. He found himself wanting to believe it. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he wanted to be someone Muzan enjoyed to be with. Perhaps because he was the only person he’d been around in, what, months? Either way, Michikatsu ended up putting way too much consideration into it. But he liked the idea. That Muzan liked him, if only slightly.
He resumed waiting for Muzan to return.
………
Only with much coaxing had Muzan finally allowed Michikatsu to join him with hunting down the vampire hunter. At one point, Michikatsu had forgotten that this was his brother he was going to be hunting. He wasn’t sure how it’d left his conscious, but he had it in his mind that this was just some irksome vampire hunter. It felt better thinking it that way. Not that he minded knowing he was related to this man. It was more the fact that Yoriichi pissed off Muzan. And Michikatsu wished to wipe the irritation away.
So, finally, he accompanied Muzan. They went at night where they had the most advantage—humans tended to sleep at night, meaning they were less on guard than during the day. And they didn’t have defined night vision.
Outside, it was quiet. The leaves rustled, the wind danced, but the moonlight muted the sound. Muzan instructed Michikatsu to keep quiet, too. Then they were off.
They went through several towns, moving quickly as able to sense the people easily. Muzan was able to decipher Yoriichi from the others, apparently, so Michikatsu mostly followed him. As they wove through houses and avoided anyone who was out late, a sense of familiarity hit Michikatsu. He stopped Muzan after a while of recognizing the paths.
“What?” Muzan hissed. He looked like he was regretting bringing Michikatsu.
“I think I’ve been here before,” Michikatsu whispered.
Suddenly, Muzan was all ears. “Maybe you lived here.”
Michikatsu agreed. “I think so. This is where I would… buy food?”
“What about your house?”
Michikatsu turned, scanning their surroundings. After a moment, he pointed to a path at the edge of the town that left into the trees.
“I think I used that. It wasn’t the main path but it was fast to my house,” Michikatsu said slowly. Scattered fragments of memories were flooding his mind and he was struggling to place them together. But he could feel, in small doses, that here and there were places he’d been before he’d become a vampire.
He and Muzan followed the path. They moved at a slower pace, not wanting to miss anything. And then—the unmistakable sound of a heartbeat. Michikatsu wouldn’t have questioned it, after all they were in a town full of people, but Muzan reacted instantly. With that, Michikatsu understood it was Yoriichi. He couldn’t fathom why Yoriichi might be in possibly the most obvious place (hadn’t Muzan taken so long to find him because he was clever?), and why he was still here. Muzan said that, when Michikatsu was human, he had been around here and supposedly Yoriichi as well. So what the hell was he still doing here—after months? Or was he revisiting?
Muzan had pointed out another path that forked from the one Michikatsu had recognized, saying that was the one he’d found Michikatsu on. Not as close to there, of course, but somewhere around.
Now, they followed the way to the heartbeat. Muzan seemed tense, though why Michikatsu couldn’t say. Curiously, Muzan made no attempt to hide their presence. Was Yoriichi really that skilled? To sense presences before seeing them? Even as a human?
Yoriichi was at the house. Michikatsu’s house, he realized. His very own home. To which he didn’t feel the very least connected to.
Muzan stepped out first. Undoubtedly, Yoriichi knew he had double the visitors. Yet he only stood for Muzan. He was empty handed. He appeared somewhat surprised that Muzan had found him here. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated this. Most likely because Muzan had already been here before. Which was reasonable. Stupid, either way. To come unarmed.
“Fuck,” Muzan breathed. Despite the amount of times he’d ranted about killing Yoriichi next time he saw him, he looked terrified. But, quickly, he composed himself. He gave Michikatsu a quick glance. One that told him to stay put.
He moved forward. Yoriichi’s stance was guarded. Ready. But Muzan was too. He stalked forward. In a flash, they both moved. Their movements were impossible to discern. It seemed like a cat and mouse chase. But it was hard to say who filled which role. They avoided each other more than anything. With the lack of weapons, Yoriichi’s offense was forced to be hand to hand combat. But getting too close could also be dangerous, though it was unlikely Muzan could easily bite him. Muzan was equally fast, and honestly Michikatsu couldn’t understand now Yoriichi had evaded him before. And then something happened. Somehow, in some way, Yoriichi gained the upper hand. Dust had risen with the movement and it took a moment for Michikatsu to place their positions. Muzan was stuck underneath Yoriichi. Straddled. He was twisting this way and that, trying to get away. Yoriichi’s grip was unrelating, though. Even Michikatsu could see it.
As if remembering they had company, Yoriichi looked up. His eyes met Michikatsu’s. They stared at each other. Then, as fast as a match being lit, recognization flared in his gaze.
“Aniue?” he whispered.
It was only for a second. But a second was enough for Muzan to take advantage of his loss of focus. He took the immediate satisfaction of knocking Yoriichi down. Before he could fight back, he made quick work of making sure Yoriichi was unconscious before turning to look at Michikatsu.
“Looks like he was looking for his dear Aniue,” he breathed.
………
Muzan took great pleasure in holding Yoriichi captive. He’d weakened him with poison, force-feeding it into him so that Yoriichi couldn’t do anything. They didn’t speak about it, but both Michikatsu and Muzan knew that Yoriichi would be able to escape even bound with rope. So the poison was to enforce it.
It took Yoriichi a day to regain consciousness. When he did, Muzan was the one to speak to him. Michikatsu was left to eat. After he’d finished, he was let back inside by a frustrated Muzan. Apparently, Yoriichi was unresponsive. Other than demanding about Michikatsu, he’d said nothing. For some reason, Muzan seemed apt to make Yoriichi suffer. He refused to kill him right away. He wanted it to be slow and painful. Michikatsu was to take no part in it or its planning. To which he didn’t necessarily mind. This was what Muzan wanted, and he let it be.
But it was strange. Yoriichi remained nonchalant to Muzan’s attempts, completely impassive at anything that he should be sobbing over. Physical pain did little to nothing to him. Any reactions were so minimal, they could be easily looked over as idle shifting. It angered Muzan.
Days passed. Michikatsu continued on as if nothing happened. He wished he could help, though he wouldn’t dare intervene, but he wasn’t particularly keen on keeping this constantly furious version of Muzan. The one who just sent him off so he could deal with Yoriichi alone. It bothered Michikatsu for a reason he didn’t quite understand. But, really, it wasn’t as if he could do anything. Right?
Except, then, Muzan finally dropped a bombshell. He seemed fed up with Yoriichi’s lack of humanity, or whatever, and recruited Michikatsu. At first, it didn’t make sense. But then, as Muzan explained it, it became clear: It was about emotionally damaging Yoriichi. Psychologically ruining him. By having Michikatsu be the one to kill him.
………
Yoriichi’s eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Michikatsu. This was this first time they’d seen each other since the night from several days ago. Michikatsu hadn’t changed at all. Yoriichi had changed a lot.
For one thing, he was obviously physically deteriorating. Most likely it was the poison; he looked sick. Any wounds Muzan had inflicted on him were bandaged. Probably for Michikatsu’s sake. Open blood would undoubtedly draw him in immediately.
At first, Michikatsu hovered by the door. He wasn’t sure what to do and Yoriichi felt almost like a distant cousin with how much he knew now. Looking at him, he could see the physical similarities. But he still felt too different. Unattached to the human Michikatsu.
Muzan nudged him forward. His previous instructions had been as simple as: ‘Just say anything. But pretend like you still care about him.’
Really, it wasn’t simple at all. But Michikatsu did his best to stumble forward. He knelt before Yoriichi. He felt that if he stood above him, Yoriichi wouldn’t believe he cared. Because he didn’t. But Muzan had ordered him to care. So he did.
“Yoriichi,” he said. Quietly. Almost breathlessly.
Yoriichi gazed at him. His eyes flickered to Muzan. “Aniue. What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Michikatsu responded. Mechanically. He let his gaze slide down. Away. As if he were guilty. “It wasn’t by choice.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. Yoriichi’s lip quivered. Something of a frown replaced his stoic expression. “What happened?” he repeated.
Michikatsu hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to say. He went with the truth.
“Kibutsuji took me in. I didn’t believe him, or you, about vampires, but- But he wasn’t lying,” he conceded.
“Why were you there?”
There was no need to specify where. Yoriichi searched Michikatsu’s face imploringly, hopefully finding nothing.
“He brought me with him. Wouldn’t leave me by myself,” was the soft response.
Yoriichi turned slightly. He glanced at Muzan. Perhaps it was suspicious at the lack of response coming from the root of the problem. But whether Muzan noticed or not, he did nothing.
“I’m sorry, Aniue.” Yoriichi apologized this time. Michikatsu felt… nothing.
“For what?”
“For failing to save you.” The words were barely there. It seemed like a moment of intimacy that Yoriichi was allowing. He lowered his gaze. “Sorry, Aniue.”
Before Michikatsu could think of anything to say, Muzan stepped in. He smiled sadistically at Yoriichi. Then he pulled Michikatsu away, ushering him out the room. He followed quickly, closing the door behind him.
They walked a few steps and then stopped. Muzan turned to Michikatsu with a smile. A sincere one. Granted, it was for his success at making Yoriichi’s stance break. But a real smile nonetheless. Michikatsu reveled in it.
“Perfect. Next time, you kill him.”
“Kill him,” Michikatsu repeated. He was lost in Muzan’s praise. He nodded. “How?”
Muzan hummed. “Painfully.”
………
The day was quite nice. Muzan and Michikatsu ate and talked and smiled. They were content. Yoriichi was going to die.
………
They were in the room again. This time, it was only Michikatsu and Yoriichi. Muzan was outside. Of course, he monitored. He was listening in. He wanted to watch it unfold. He felt that if he was directly there, it would ruin the mood.
Michikatsu entered the room in a rush. He pretended he wasn’t allowed. He shut the door behind him and knelt in front of Yoriichi again. His knees were uncomfortable.
Yoriichi gazed at him, wide-eyed. “Aniue?”
“Yoriichi.” Michikatsu returned the gaze. His eyebrows dipped down slightly. “I can get you out.”
“What?”
“I can turn you into a vampire and- Then you can get out.”
Yoriichi stared. “No.”
“What?” This time, it was Michikatsu who said it. He stared back.
Silence.
“Why?”
“I can’t.” Yoriichi frowned. Not for the first time since he’d arrived. “Aniue, I can’t become a vampire. They kill. They take lives of humans for no reason. They encourage violence. They embody it. I’d die before becoming a vampire by choice.”
“By choice,” Michikatsu echoed. Thoughts brewed. “And if it was forced on you? If you had no choice.”
They both fell quiet. Nothing was spoken. It was just Yoriichi Tsugikuni and his beloved Aniue.
“Why?”
They were repeating questions a lot today. Yoriichi was the repetition this time. Something akin to shock registered on his face as the meaning of Michikatsu’s words sunk in.
“Why not?”
“Aniue.”
Michikatsu smiled.
“No.”
But there wasn’t much Yoriichi could do at this point. He’d been right, of course. If only for the last time. He had failed. Except, he’d failed himself, not Michikatsu. Poor OtÅto.
Yoriichi tensed. He was powerless. They both knew that.
Michikatsu leaned forward. Like Muzan had done to him only a few months ago, he tugged Yoriichi’s head to the side, creating plenty of space to bite. Yoriichi was struggling. But under the spell of utter betrayal, he seemed limp. That, and the poison.
Michikatsu bit down. Yoriichi was dead.
………
It hadn’t gone as planned. Even so, Muzan was very proud. He even rewarded Michikatsu with an extra human. They kept the unconscious Yoriichi tied up, of course. But they left with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be himself on the off chance he awoke early.
After gathering a few people and taking their own to eat, they dragged the last one inside the house. Muzan ripped off an arm and held it up so the blood didn’t flow out all at once. They returned to Yoriichi.
As expected, he was still asleep. Slumped down on himself. But he did them a favor to wake up soon after, stirring. Most likely the blood had caught his primal instincts’ attention. His eyes shot open at once.
Muzan knelt before him, the arm in hand.
When Michikatsu had become vampire, the second he’d come near human blood, it had been hard to contain himself. But then, it had had the thin barrier of flesh and the more effective blockade of Muzan. Now, the blood was all for Yoriichi. Already there. He took it into his mouth immediately. He was hungry.
Becoming a vampire seemed to take a toll on people. They always instantly took whatever blood they could find. Yoriichi, despite everything, was no different. He drunk and drunk until the arm was skin and bone. Then Muzan gave him the rest of the body. Yoriichi didn’t stop until it was sucked dry of blood.
Much pleased, Muzan had Michikatsu discard what was left of the body. When he came back, Yoriichi was beginning to come to his senses. Slowly. Unwillingly.
With some struggle, he looked up. He saw Muzan first, but his eyes remained clouded with the previous impulse to drink. Then he shifted, meeting Michikatsu’s gaze. He froze.
“No.”
Michikatsu tried for an apologetic look. It didn’t work. Muzan, on the other hand, only laughed.
“It’s funny. How we deny things even when we know it’s true. Inevitably so,” he said with a wide smile. His canines lengthened whenever his mouth opened. It was methodical. The faint teeth clashing of his teeth made all the difference anyway. “Say hello to your Aniue, Yoriichi. Tell him thank you for everything.”
Yoriichi shook his head. His eyes held so much emotion and Michikatsu didn’t understand how it was possible. Then again, even as a human, Yoriichi had been anything but possible. Now, it was as if the little emotion he let himself show before was coming out all at once. In some reversed, swapped way. Michikatsu almost pitied him. He must’ve felt more when he’d been recently turned. But he found that now, anything he felt was reserved for Muzan. Which likely derived from the fact that Muzan was the only person he’d spoken to since becoming a vampire. He wondered, briefly, if Yoriichi would be like that as time went on, too. Yet he felt it was unlikely. Yoriichi was crying.
Despite having little connection to the man now, Michikatsu took it as a shock. Muzan, too, appeared rendered still by the fact of it all. Even so, it did little to change anything.
Yoriichi staggered. He was still tied up, although if he tried, he could probably escape. But he made no move to. He only slumped over. There was a moment where all attention was on him. Then—
Muzan turned to Michikatsu, signaling for him to retrieve something from outside the room. He obeyed. And returned with Yoriichi’s katana—the one used by vampire hunters. They had retrieved it from Michikatsu’s house, which had raised momentary questions about why Yoriichi hadn’t had it on him until they realized the door had been open and likely Yoriichi had assumed the weapon would be easily in reach. Except he hadn’t anticipated Muzan’s arrival, thus not wanting to ruin it by turning for a moment to get the sword.
At first, Yoriichi made no notice of his katana. He was struggling with himself. Perhaps, Michikatsu thought, perhaps Yoriichi had never felt anything so strongly before. To the point it physically overwhelmed him. He should cut Yoriichi a bit of slack. But then, with what he was going to do, he supposed that allowing the man a moment of weakness was nothing.
Really, it had been Muzan’s idea. Michikatsu couldn’t take the credit. Though he really had no intention to.
He held out the katana to Yoriichi. Finally, Yoriichi looked up. He looked like an abandoned child. Lost. Broken. Michikatsu couldn’t care less.
“Take it.” Michikatsu spoke very calmly.
Yoriichi stared at him. He seemed at loss for words.
Muzan piped up. “And kill yourself!”
A beat of silence contributed to most by Yoriichi. Michikatsu’s hand remained extended, holding out the katana. It was sheathed. He took the sheathe off and tossed it aside. Then he offered it to Yoriichi again. The blade glinted. Smiled.
“I can do it for you,” Michikatsu murmured, when nothing was said or done. Yoriichi seemed in no state to comprehend anything. He thought he might clarify. “I can kill you. Or you can kill yourself. I think you want to do it yourself. Because you hate yourself now, right?”
Muzan made a noise of satisfaction. He added, “You basically killed that person. They could’ve had a chance—they were only unconscious. But you drank allll their blood. And you liked it, didn’t you?”
Yoriichi gazed up at them pathetically. He swallowed. Michikatsu cut the rope binding him together. His brother took the katana.
“Do it,” Muzan hissed.
Michikatsu felt nothing. Yoriichi felt everything.
Then Yoriichi lunged forward.
………
Michikatsu was really not fit for combat. He was immediately flattened by Yoriichi, who pressed the katana to his throat. He felt the cold blade pressing against his skin and he winced. He didn’t technically need to breathe, so it did little on that matter. But it hurt.
Yoriichi stared down at him with eyes that regretted. For a moment, it was just Yoriichi and Michikatsu. Something of a memory passed through Michikatsu’s mind. He had never believed in vampires before. Yoriichi had always known, though. He was idiotically clever. Now, at least.
It felt like Michikatsu would die. There was no way he wouldn’t. Even newly turned, Yoriichi was stronger than him. Had trained, somehow, to be quicker than Muzan. Even as a human. Now, his strength seemed to catch up with him. Enhanced, too.
A flicker of a thought went by. What if. What if Muzan needed him enough to save him. Or cared. What if he cared enough?
Before the blade could do lasting damage, the weight of Yoriichi was lifted off. Michikatsu sat up immediately. Again, Yoriichi had hesitated. He had looked at Michikatsu and had mistaken him as his brother. But Aniue was dead, wasn’t he? As Muzan had said, the human part of a person dies when they become a vampire.
Muzan. Muzan, in control of the katana. Unlike Yoriichi, he did not hesitate. He was already pressing the blade to Yoriichi’s neck, already pressing down. Even in the second it had taken Michikatsu to sit up, Muzan had wasted no time in gaining the upper hand.
Yoriichi struggled for a moment. If he really tried, he could win. Based on complete logic, despite his lack of performance lately, Yoriichi was more likely to overpower Muzan than the others way around. But then. But really, it was about Michikatsu, too. Mostly about Michikatsu.
Michikatsu was still on the floor, watching. Yoriichi turned to look at him, his eyes searching. Michikatsu stood. Slowly. Muzan joined the audience, though he kept a firm grip on his hostage.
“Aniue,” Yoriichi said. He was quiet. Pomegranate eyes beamed right at Michikatsu. A lighthouse in search of its brother. It was met with boulders that contained the waters of their past. The ocean was drying, though. There was no boat arriving. Michikatsu had sunk. Still, Yoriichi tried. He did. Muzan almost pitied him.
The katana sunk deeper. Blood seeped from the wound, staining clothing and skin. Yoriichi couldn’t speak. His body went limp. Michikatsu remained on the sidelines. His brother was dying. And his eyes were on Muzan. He encouraged him with his gaze. The wrong person, he would’ve said were he several months younger. But it didn’t matter what he would’ve said before. Only what he did now.
“Do it,” he whispered, echoing Muzan’s earlier words.
The blade went through. Yoriichi had given up.
But, really, what did Yoriichi matter?
There was a thump as the head fell. Then the body. And the clatter of the katana.
Muzan turned. He smiled. Michikatsu smiled back.
“Would you look at that?” Muzan hummed.
They began to leave.
“Now it’s just you and me.”
The door closed behind them. As they walked, a thought occurred to Michikatsu.
“Hey,” he said.
Muzan acknowledged him with a smile. It held notes of relief, though he would never say. Yoriichi was nothing now, and he didn’t care. He remembered, briefly, that Michikatsu had arrived because of Yoriichi.
“Who was he?”
“What?” Muzan tuned out his thoughts.
“Yoriichi,” Michikatsu clarified. “Who was he?”
………
Muzan did care. He made sure it was clear.
Despite his claims that Michikatsu was useless to him, he seemed content with keeping him. Told him he wasn’t allowed to leave, in fact. He was keen on putting everything else behind and creating something just with Michikatsu. Just the two of them. It was hard to say what, though. Neither knew. Only that Yoriichi was gone and they were happy at that.
Though Michikatsu had only contributed to Yoriichi’s death by being his brother, Muzan claimed he’d done a lot. Enough to start actually trying to train him to be stronger—faster, more perceptive. In hopes they could fight together one day. Maybe the house could have two owners. On one condition, however. One Michikatsu had no problem following: he must change his name.
Apparently, ‘Michikatsu Tsugikuni’ was unfitting for him. It was the name of someone who had once existed. Michikatsu wholly agreed.
Several days after the condition was set, they discovered a name. Placed it on Michikatsu and—
Kokushibo. Just Kokushibo. It seemed to fit, somehow. It took little time to get used to.
Muzan and Kokushibo. They fit, too. Together. Like puzzle pieces. No. More like two pieces from separate sides of the puzzle, carved out to fit. So that the pictures were only solid colors that contrasted perfectly against one another.
And maybe it had started with Michikatsu and Yoriichi and vampires that didn’t exist. But that didn’t have to stay the same. It could be Muzan and Kokushibo and nothing else, nobody else. Just them. At least now, Michikatsu would know what was truly real.
♡
Emotions were somewhat of a mystery to vampires. They seemed to dull, for some reason. Yet this was very strong. Unnervingly so.
For some time, half a year after Yoriichi’s death, Kokushibo found himself noticing something. Little things that appeared abnormal. Muzan had no symptoms of the same (so he said) and they weren’t side effects to being a vampire. But the strange thing was that Kokushibo was only affected when Muzan was in the picture. Whether he was thinking of him, or being with him, or listening to him, as long as it was about Muzan, Kokushibo felt himself almost acting up.
For the most part, he preened. A lot. Muzan liked to praise Kokushibo whenever he did something right—a habit they sort of picked up from nowhere. If he was able to dodge one of Muzan’s attacks while they trained, Muzan would grin and say, “Good boy.”
At first, Kokushibo had taken the praise like anyone else would. Obviously, he loved it. Who didn’t? But it had been taken to another level recently. And he would take even the slightest compliment and make it a part of himself. He treasured each word carefully. Cautiously, so they wouldn’t break.
Another thing was that he was constantly having the need to satisfy Muzan. He ended up working himself as hard as he could in hopes he could meet Muzan’s expectations (this was more than just earning praise). Which would all seem normal enough, except in his head he felt like Muzan was so wonderful and the only way he would keep Kokushibo was if he was great, too. But all of that, then taken to the extreme.
The last thing Kokushibo managed to place was his own thoughts. The ones he had when Muzan was there. Embarrassing thoughts, such as:
Muzan looked good today. As he did everyday. Well, he’d always looked quite handsome.
And:
Perhaps, if I do well, Muzan could hug me.
Thoughts like these were mainly inspired by the books Kokushibo read. He’d found the library in the house and was on a mission to read every book in it. Muzan had told him the books were actually from the previous owner, but he’d left them there for aesthetic purposes. Or something. But Kokushibo actually read them, and had picked up things humans did. Such as romance. And what they had done in such topics he’d imagined himself doing with Muzan, embarrassingly. He wasn’t quite sure why.
Finally, after having quite enough of his confusion, Kokushibo asked about it. Not to Muzan, who seemed clueless, but to a human. Because humans seemed to know so much about this. (Often, Kokushibo resonated with romance books which had all been written by humans).
Upon being given the question, most of the humans responded with: “I think you’re in love.”
Love was a foreign concept to Kokushibo, really. He felt that even as a human, he hadn’t done much with the word. He brought it up to Muzan. Muzan, in turn, froze.
“Love?” He enunciated the word slowly.
Kokushibo nodded. “They say I’m in love. With you.”
Muzan grew… embarrassed? Fidgety. He nodded back. “Oh.”
“They didn’t say it was bad.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“Do you know what it is?”
Muzan nodded again. Not for the first time, Kokushibo was impressed. Muzan seemed to know a lot more about emotions as someone who had been a vampire for so long. Even Kokushibo, who had turned only less than a year ago, could barely decipher them.
“It’s good,” Muzan agreed. “I think. It means you like someone. A lot.”
“Oh.” That checked out. Kokushibo was quite fond of Muzan by now. “I do like you a lot.”
Perhaps if Muzan were human, he would’ve turned red. But his heart was in no shape to do such a thing, so he settled with turning away—only his head. “Oh.”
“Yes.” Kokushibo nodded. “I do.”
“Okay.”
Kokushibo smiled.
Muzan halfheartedly returned it.
“What’s wrong? I thought it was a good thing?” Kokushibo frowned.
“It is. I like you a lot too,” Muzan managed, after a struggle.
Kokushibo’s smile returned. “Okay. I’m glad.”
“Yeah.”
×××
« Word count: 12,963 »
what the FUCK this is long. see bc i put my heart & soul into this (i started late september D:) and i dont like it that much
ok ily guys if you dont appreciate this im starting a war (/j i hate it too its okay)Â
let’s pretend this is halloween themed lmaooo i had no ideas ðŸ˜
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