Tanjiro’s nights were no longer silent. Muzan filled them—his presence constant, his touch a chain made of silk and shadow. Sometimes Muzan would guide him through gardens, sometimes through quiet libraries lined with tomes, sometimes only through stillness, lips brushing against Tanjiro’s as though sealing a vow no words could contain.
It was confusing, intoxicating, terrifying.
But outside this gilded cage, whispers stirred.
---
Two cloaked figures raced through the forest, their Nichirin blades glinting under the pale moon. Demon Slayer Corps scouts had been sent after rumors: a boy with hanafuda earrings seen wandering with a man of impossible beauty. One had escaped to tell the tale, barely alive.
“That description,” murmured one of the slayers. “It can’t be… Tanjiro Kamado is dead. His family was slaughtered.”
“Or worse,” the other said grimly. “He’s been turned.”
They pushed forward, determined to confirm the truth.
---
Back within the estate, Tanjiro sat across from Muzan at a low table. A porcelain teacup rested between his hands, though he didn’t drink. He stared at the steam, his reflection twisting in its surface.
“Muzan-sama,” Tanjiro said hesitantly, “there are times… I feel like someone is calling me. A voice I can’t remember, but it feels… warm.”
Muzan’s eyes flickered dangerously, but his smile was smooth, unbroken. He reached across the table, lifting Tanjiro’s chin with a single finger.
“A phantom,” he whispered. “Nothing more than the mind clinging to scraps of a broken past. Do not let it distract you.”
Tanjiro swallowed, nodding slowly. But the ache in his chest did not fade.
Muzan shifted closer, his lips brushing Tanjiro’s forehead in a deceptively gentle kiss. “You are mine,” he reminded him, his voice low, almost soothing. “And I will not allow shadows to steal you from me.”
Tanjiro’s breath caught. His body leaned forward before he realized it, seeking the cold comfort Muzan offered. Their lips met again, lingering longer this time, and Tanjiro trembled, torn between surrender and the faint pulse of something lost, something he could not yet name.
---
Beyond the estate walls, in the depths of the forest, the scouts finally caught sight of a distant silhouette: a boy with a familiar scar, walking the garden paths with a tall figure beside him.
Their eyes widened in horror.
“It’s true,” one whispered. “Tanjiro Kamado… is with Muzan himself.”
---
And within the estate, Muzan paused mid-kiss, his eyes narrowing. He had felt it—the faint stirring of intruders trespassing too close. A smile curved his lips, sharp as a blade.
“Stay here,” he told Tanjiro softly, brushing a thumb across his lips, smearing the taste of their kiss. “Your loyalty will be tested soon.”
Tanjiro looked up, confused, but before he could speak, Muzan’s form dissolved into shadows, vanishing into the night to deal with the threat.
Tanjiro was left trembling, his lips tingling with Muzan’s kiss, his chest burning with questions he could not name.
And outside, two slayers drew their blades, unaware they were about to face not just Muzan… but the boy they once called friend
TO BE CONTINUED
♡(ӦｖӦ｡)
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