Chapter Text
Akaza can not say he is good at finding things. How many years had he spent fruitlessly searching for the blue spider lily? He tried not to think about it.
But all those wasted years had taught him how to search for something and how to do it thoroughly.
Akaza turned town after town upside down, questioning humans, interrogating demons, and stalking the streets for rumors. He worked in seven day intervals. Search for a week, return to Kyojuro for two days, repeat.
He made token efforts to find the blue spider lily while he hunted for Tamayo, just in case Muzan-sama checked in with him, but he doubted his efforts would hold up to much scrutiny. But it was better than being caught working towards an unauthorized agenda, even one he could play off as a loyal service.
Akaza also kept his ear open for rumors about Kamado Nezuko whenever he stumbled across a group of gossiping slayers.
That brat with the hanafuda earrings. The one who’d thrown his sword at Akaza and dared to call him a coward… Kamado Tanjiro and his demon sister were an incredibly popular topic among slayers both junior and senior. All of which recited a story similar to the one Kyojuro had told him: a demon free of Muzan-sama’s influence who slept to regain her strength and grow stronger, and fought to protect humans. It was something out of a fairytale, almost entirely unbelievable. Almost…
If he hadn’t known Tamayo was real. If he didn’t trust Kyojuro to tell the truth. If every slayer he encountered didn’t have a story about her…
No, Nezuko and her freedom were very real things. And they just might be easier to find than Tamayo. After all, go where there is a demon and you will find a slayer.
He just needed to find one that knew where the siblings were.
It was in his fifth week of searching that Akaza found a potential lead on Nezuko.
He found a low-level slayer triumphantly walking through the woods after killing the most pathetic demon Akaza had ever seen in his life.
Akaza ruined the young swordsman’s entire life simply by stepping out of the shadows in front of him, scowl firmly fixed to his face.
The slayer paused midstep, confused, saw Akaza’s eyes, and went white as a sheet.
There was a long moment in which neither man moved.“I’m looking for someone,” Akaza said calmly, taking a step towards the slayer. “A demon slayer who travels with his demon sister.”
Recognition flashed across the slayer’s face but he had the audacity to lie. “No slayer would ever travel with a demon!”
Akaza was on the slayer in a second, lifting him off the ground with a hand on his neck. “Don’t. Lie. To me,” he growled. “Tell me what I want to know and you’ll live to see the sunrise. Lie or refuse and…” Akaza squeezed the man’s neck to emphasize his point.
The slayer vainly fought Akaza’s hold, thrashing pitifully and clawing at Akaza’s wrist in an attempt to escape. “N-never!” the slayer said defiantly, even as the acrid scent of urine filled the air.
Akaza co*cked his head to the side, regarding the slayer with cold calculation.
How best to make him talk?
Bite off the man’s fingers one by one? Few things frightened people, human or demon, more than the pain of being eaten alive.
No… Kyojuro wouldn’t forgive that. Equally as important was the fact that Akaza was starving , having passed over several chances to feed in his quest for freedom. If he started eating, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
It would be best not to spill any blood at all. Fortunately, there were plenty of ways to inflict pain without bloodshed.
“This is your last chance,” Akaza said slowly, filling his voice with all the menace a near hunger-maddened demon could manifest, “to tell me what I want to know.”
“G-g-go to Hell!”
Akaza bit back a tired sigh and pried one of the slayer’s hands off his wrist. Perhaps a few broken fingers would change this fool’s mind---
Killing intent, cold, furious, and calculating raced towards them at nearly inhuman speeds.
Akaza threw the slayer away and jumped back, dropped into a battle stance, and activated his Compass Needle.
A small, white form landed where he’d been only a second ago, blading piercing the air his head had occupied.
Akaza’s heart spasmed like a fish on dry land when his opponent straightened and faced him nonchalantly. She was… so small. Lean and delicately framed, just like Koyuki had been.
Deep down, Akaza knew this woman was anything but delicate. Her uniform had the gold buttons of a hashira and she had the fighting spirit to match. It was a tall, monstrous thing that engulfed her tiny body in a raging tempest of fury. It burned so hotly it emanated an icy aura around her.
It was like staring into the embers of a fallen star.
Yet Akaza did not want to fight her… not when she reminded him so much of his sweet, beloved Koyuki.
“Kocho-sama!” the junior slayer shouted. “Be careful, that’s Upper Moon Three!”
“Oh,” Kocho said lightly. “I know exactly who this is. Which is why I need you to head to town and send a crow for help.”
“But-- I can’t just leave you!” he said, crawling out of the bush he’d been flung into.
“That was a direct order from a hashira,” she said coolly, her eyes never leaving Akaza. “Not a request.”
The man hesitated, then turned and ran.
“I don’t have time for this,” Akaza said bitterly as he carefully backed away from the swordswoman.
“Dismissing me out of hand, Akaza?” Kocho said in a sickly sweet voice. “And here I thought you craved a strong opponent? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little ol’ me.”
A vein bulged in Akaza’s forehead at the insinuation he was a coward.
Kocho saw that as an opportunity to strike and rushed him at lightning speed.
Akaza made to block her, realizing a moment too late that there was something strange about her blade.
It sunk deep into his flesh, piercing him through to the bone. And, just as quickly as the sword entered him, it was gone, and so was Kocho. She retreated back to her original distance from him and stood there expectantly.
Akaza took the brief reprieve to examine her sword. It was… odd. Slender with a weighted tip. There was no way she could take off a demon’s head with tha--
Pain erupted from within Akaza, his blood boiling in his veins as it fought to escape him from every orifice. Stars burst behind his eyes and he sank to his knees in instinctive submission. This was what Muzan-sama’s rage felt like…
Only, unlike his master’s ire, it was over quickly and his body healed swiftly, the pain rapidly fading to memory.
Akaza sat there, dazed for a moment, until Kocho spoke: “Your body broke down my poison quickly. But that’s okay. I have enough with me to keep you writhing in pain until the sun rises.”
Poison.
Dried blood trickling down pale, long dead lips.
A body, normally so warm, now she was cool to the touch.
A second body, long since having spent its last breath, normally full of vibrant laughter…
Now he was dreadfully silent.
Poison.
So this is what they had felt as they died. Such agony.
Damn those rotten bastards. Damn them all to Hell!
Rage and grief festered in his soul, hollow and all-consuming. It ruined him. It drove him. Like a slave master with a merciless whip, his loss pushed him forward and onto his feet. It commanded him ruthlessly, chanting a single word over and over again, a wish so strong it blotted out all other hopes and dreams.
Revenge.
Flesh tore beneath his hands, bones broke under his fists, men died in fear before his hate-filled eyes.
Every. Single. One of them.
They were all guilty, either having helped or stood by and did nothing as his bride to be and his beloved teacher were cruelly murdered.
And for that, they would all die. Every. Last. One.
A woman’s scream, pain filled and furious, tore Akaza back into reality with a sharp yank.
He stumbled, confused and unsure of himself, and searched for the woman who had cried out. Was it Koyuki? Had he been wrong-- was she still alive?!
He found her at his feet, body broken but soul defiant, her blood on his hands.
Akaza recoiled in horror at the sight-- the smell-- the knowledge that he had done this.
“You better hurry up and eat me, demon,” Kocho taunted through her pain. “Wouldn’t want your meal to grow cold.”
Akaza stared at her, not understanding. Eat her?
Eat her?
His eyes found her left leg, saw the bone poking out of it-- he imagined himself ripping the meat from it-- he fell to the forest floor to evict the contents of his stomach onto the grass. His body had nothing to give but digestive fluid, which burnt and sizzled the grass.
Akaza heaved until he could no longer smell the woman’s blood over his own vomit. Slowly, his stomach calmed. And slowly, he turned to face her, afraid of what he’d see, afraid of what he’d done.
Kocho watched him with narrowed, critical eyes, as if he were a rabid dog that bore examination before it was put down. She clutched the side of her chest with one hand, and Akaza instantly knew she was cradling broken ribs.
She needed help!
She needed a doctor!
He rushed to scoop her up in his arms carefully, mindful of her broken leg.
She slapped him square across his face before he’d even finished standing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at her, hoping that his eyes conveyed just how much shame and regret he felt.
She slapped him again.
“They poisoned our well!” Akaza said desperately as he started walking. Help. They needed help! “My wife-- your poison, it made me remember-- I didn’t mean to-- I’ve never lain a hand on a woman before!”
Kocho scoffed at him. “Demons and your excuses,” she said bitterly. “Nothing’s ever your fault, is it?”
“It was,” Akaza sobbed. “It was my fault. If I’d just been there… I failed them.”
Kocho blinked and regarded him quietly.
Akaza couldn’t stand the silence. It needled at him like the sting of a thousand accusatory ants.
“How do you protect someone from something like that?” he asked her, begging with all his being for an answer that made sense. “From something you can’t see or smell or taste? How?”
Kocho was quiet for a moment more, then averted her gaze from his as if she couldn’t stand what she saw in his eyes. She whispered, “You can’t save everyone.”
“What good am I if I can’t save the people who matter most?” Akaza asked, his voice breaking midway through his sentence.
He stared at her down turned face, imploring her to have an answer. He couldn’t save Koyuki, he couldn’t hide Kyojuro from Muzan-sama, he couldn’t even stop himself from breaking his most sacred rule!
What good was he?
If Kocho knew the answer, she did not deign to share it with him.
As her silence stretched on, Akaza relived how he felt crossing that bridge after the massacre, moments before meeting Muzan-sama. He had been hollow, lifeless, defeated with no purpose or meaning to his pathetic existence.
All he had wanted that night was to die. For it to all stop. No more pain. No more loss. No more demon child.
And Muzan made him immortal.
“I never wanted this,” Akaza choked out, something warm and wet sliding down his cheek. “I never wanted to be a demon… I had no reason to be strong.”
Kyojuro was right and Akaza the fool.
Without someone to protect, strength was meaningless. “All I wanted was to die, and that bastard made me immortal.”
“It’s never too late to watch the sun rise,” Kocho said, a cruel smile twisting her features.
Akaza barked a humorless laugh. It really was that easy, wasn’t it? The prospect of spending eternity chasing meaningless strength was more frightening now than rotting away ever had been.
But he wasn’t alone anymore, was he? He had a real reason to grow strong again.
Kyojuro.
So long as Kyojuro lived and loved him, Akaza would live too, no matter how much it hurt. When Kyojuro died… then he could have his rest and know peace at last.
“I can’t yet,” he said quietly in answer to her suggestion.
Kocho narrowed her eyes at him. “You haven’t killed a single hashira since Rengoku, Akaza. Why is that?”
Why indeed? Was it all still for Kyojuro’s sake? No. He wouldn’t have killed the Love Hashira on principle of her being a woman. Same with Kocho… her blood on his hands still made him feel sick, unclean, rotten. The thought of killing women twisted his stomach.
Not even Muzan could make him kill a woman.
And he had tried his best to break Akaza of his sentimentalities.
He killed men all the time. Had hardly thought about it unless they were a worthy opponent, and those he mourned in his own way. But had he ever liked killing? He’d killed plenty who deserved it: Rapists, murders, abusers. It made Akaza feel vindicated, but did it ever make him feel good?
He couldn’t say it did.
“I’m tired,” was all Akaza had to answer Kocho’s question.
It wasn’t much, but it was the truth.
He was finally tired of the blood and killing.
He was tired of being a demon.
Kocho hummed then switched topics suddenly. “Where are you taking me?”
“To town,” he said. “You need a doctor.”
Kocho hummed again, looking thoughtful. “You must feel awful about what you did to me,” she said slowly, “to risk running into my reinforcements.”
Akaza’s blood turned to ice. He knew that voice. It was Douma’s favorite. The one he used when he knew he had you pinned with no escape but wanted to be coy about it.
“Perhaps you can make it up to me…” she whispered darkly.
“What,” Akaza tried, throat dry. “What do you want?”
She smiled wickedly, triumphantly, like a fox who’d killed the fattest hen in the coop. “What do you know about a demon with rainbow eyes?”
Akaza stopped dead in his tracks. “Upper Moon Two.”
“Tell me about him,” Kocho demanded, all her fake cheer gone.
“You don’t stand a chance against him,” he warned her.
“Perhaps not by myself, but I do not intend to face him alone.”
Akaza studied her closely, weighing the truth of her words before deciding it did not matter. She would hunt Douma to the ends of the Earth, to Hell and back, until her dying breath. He could see it in the hard line of her eyes, in the cold way her fighting spirit burned.
Who was he to deny her what was obviously a deeply personal revenge?
He told her everything he knew about Douma.
Everything but where to find him, for he could not bring himself to send her to her death. Although, he doubted his withholding the information would slow her down.
Akaza set Kocho down on the steps of a clinic and banged on the door for her.
“Akaza,” Kocho said as he turned to leave. “You didn’t kill Rengoku, did you?”
“Good luck with your revenge,” he said before disappearing into the night.
