One moment, Douma was looking into the vibrant violet eyes of Shinobu and the next he was looking into the dull brown eyes of a corpse, the taste of blood in his mouth and an intense hunger in his stomach. He was holding it so tightly his claws stabbed through the skin and into the bone and his whole body was hunched over it protectively – no, possessively. Like someone would steal it and eat it for themselves.
He blinked, slowly uncurling himself and taking in his surroundings. He was in his temple. Its appearance was slightly off, but he recognized it. Most notably, it was full of corpses. Familiar half eaten corpses. He didn't know everyone's name, but they had been dead for decades. His first slaughter.
A dream?
He hadn't dreamed in… well, since he could last fall asleep.
He licked at the blood that had leaked onto his chin. He could taste it. Not a dream, then? Had… Shinobu been a dream? He had dreamed of having emotions before. It was possible. His heart raced at the thought of it being fake.
He paused and then put a hand over his chest.
No, no that had been real.
He had died.
And now he was alive.
He looked at the bloodied corpse again. Red tinted his vision as he took in sight and smell of the blood and his hand darted up to his mouth to stop the saliva that began to pool out. He hadn't felt like this in years. Since he had first been turned into a demon. Was he really back to the first day? He was so hungry.
He bit clear through his thumb and palm, his own blood shocking the hunger out of his system for what he knew would only be a moment. He focused on the corpse's face. He had a great memory, but as a human he hadn't really bothered getting to know his follower's names. He didn't know the man. No particular memory stood out either. He would not be remembered by anyone.
He couldn't hold himself back anymore.
He continued to eat.
He went off to finish the other half eaten corpses as well. It was best to devour the entire body to get the most nutrients. He'd been careless last time and discarded them for the best tasting bits. He let them rot, cold and alone.
Last time.
Was it truly the past? Perhaps it was a Blood Demon Art he was under the influence of? A side effect of too much poison? It felt so real though.
He could test it. To wake from Enmu's dream you had to kill yourself. He would try it here.
All he needed was a little sun. Since he had taken the time to eat everyone, bone and all, it should already be dawn. He made his way to the entrance of his temple and placed his palm on the door. It would not slide open. His followers, the ones who survived, had barricaded him and his victims inside. In the past his hunger drove him to break it down the same night to kill everyone else. He'd been too driven by bloodlust to even notice there had been a barricade until several days later when he got ahold of himself. Now he knew he had to be careful or else he'd be washed in sunlight. It took some careful maneuvering but soon he was able to get a sliver of sunlight into the temple.
He stretched a claw out, then flicked it out into the sunbeam and back into the shadows at a speed no human would be able to track.
The pain in his hand was indescribable. Only a single digit had been touched by the sun but all the cells in his hand had been sent ablaze and burned away.
He laughed.
Real. This was real. He was somehow back in his temple from almost two hundred years ago. He killed and ate everyone again and didn't feel a thing!
The energy used to regenerate his hand from the sun's burn almost completely drained him. He could feel he was not as powerful as he once was. He doubted he even had his Blood Demon Art to call upon. He'd need to get stronger. He'd need to eat more.
Douma couldn't look outside so he tried to listen. While he had the enhanced senses of a demon, they were not as good as some of the other Upper Moons. His body simply wasn't built that way. He could definitely hear a crowd if he closed his eyes and focused, but it was still far from the house. Each minute that passed further shaded the house until he was waiting by the door, hand on the frame, senses strained. His instincts screamed warnings of the warm sunlight on the other side but he didn't move.
When finally, finally, the sun disappeared, he went outside.
He followed the smell of burnt human. He couldn't smell Ume under it but burned skin and hair would overpower that, surely. He couldn't smell Gyutaro either. He might not be home yet. No, he wouldn't have gone to work. Would he? Had he gone to kill his boss?
Ume then. He'd have to turn Ume first. It'd been hours, she might not be able to wait. Gyutaro would follow, he'd never let her do it alone. Douma would find him after.
A portion of the sky was red and dark smoke was billowing in the air, carrying far more than the smell of burnt humans. Had the fire spread? A crowd was running away from the direction of where he assumed the pyre was. To escape the flames, undoubtedly but also… he could smell blood?
He may have shoved a few humans aside more roughly than usually would have but the crowd was getting more hectic, and he found he was lacking the patience to go around them. At one point a shove had his hand pulling away with tiny droplets of blood at the tip of his claws. The crowd eventually thinned, and he found exactly what they were running from.
The most notable thing was the large fire burning some of the buildings in the district. The second was the ring of dead bodies spreading out into a trail leading towards Douma. Most of them looked like guards or samurai – members of the magistrate too. An unfortunate few looked like they just got in the way. At the center of it all was the blackened figure of Gyutaro.
Gyutaro's walk was staggered, his legs burned black and curled in on themselves. Ume's own burned form was on his back, unmoving, though some of her features were still discernable unlike last time. This was completely different from the first time Douma had turned them and he couldn't help but take a moment to note the differences.
One last human attempted to strike him down and Gyutaro stabbed him with a wooden stake he must have pulled from the pyre. He stumbled back as he pulled it back out of the body and then continued his trek towards Douma.
The stench of burnt meat was almost unbearable. Douma stepped closer to meet him halfway. Gyutaro swung the stake and it shattered before it could pierce him. Upon closer observation, Douma could see his eyes were blank and unseeing, his body seemed to be moving on its own. Douma could barely hear his heartbeat. He didn't even seem to be breathing.
Gyutaro should not be alive, much less standing and walking. Whatever was left inside of him, his desire to kill everyone in his path or his desire to save his sister, must have been the only thing keeping him going. Douma put his hand under Gyutaro's chin to tilt his head up.
"Gyutaro?" he called.
Empty eyes widened and what was left of the stake was dropped onto the ground.
"Save Ume," Gyutaro croaked. "Save Ume. Please."
Douma smiled. "I'll save both of you."
Just because it was real didn't rule out the possibility he was under the effect of a Blood Demon Art. This could have been Muzan's doing. He could see the benefits of time travel, but he could not see the benefits of weakening him. He tried reaching out to other demons, mostly Nakime, to see if they knew anything about it, but nobody answered his call. He even tried enticing them to contact him by bringing up topics of interests. He tried to project impressions of swords, fighting, music, pots and demons who could walk in the sun, but he doubted any of it really got through. At one point he mentally felt something akin to a hand batting him away but that was the closest he got to any acknowledgment and the connection was so weak he didn't know who it was.
He was far weaker than them. Easily overlooked and ignored.
He was working on his strength by devouring humans. He wasn't killing as many people but devouring every piece of them until there was no trace behind made up for it. It was safer as well. His followers that had fled this time had spread the word and demon slayers were on the hunt for him, but he left no trail behind. He was confident he would be able to handle them if they did find him, but it was better to be safe than sorry since he was now only a few days old.
Currently he was eating a couple who had snuck into a barn for a midnight romp. He would not turn down an easy meal when it stumbled so eagerly into his temporary shelter. Their last words were cries of each other's names. It was so very romantic.
It made him think of Shinobu.
Getting accustomed to his surroundings and increasing his strength had left him little time to think over their encounter.
He did notice something… different.
Thinking about her felt like an indulgence. An activity everyone should want to partake in. Something he could do that not everyone else could. This was a ridiculous thought, because Shinobu was just one person. The 'activity' was just thought. It was too specific. Too minor a subject.
Did he… enjoy… thinking about her? Personally?
His heartrate increased and he dropped the arm he was eating to put both hands on his chest.
"Again? What are you up to in there?" he whispered to his heart. "You've never done this before. Stop that."
It continued thumping at its rapid pace. He cocked his head to the side at its disobedience.
He could remember it. The feeling. The… love. Because what else could it have been? He'd spent over a hundred years listening to the problems of humans. Many stories involved love. A lack of love. An excess of love. It would only make sense that the first emotion he felt would be love.
Shinobu, Shinobu.
'My name on your lips makes me sick.'
Heat flushed into his cheeks. He wondered what it looked like on his face.
He wanted to see her again. He couldn't wait to see her again. Remembering the feeling was one thing. Feeling it again was another. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, envisioning Shinobu's face. Her eyes. Her smile. His heartrate eased into a gentle flutter.
"We'll see her again," he promised.
Ume's burnt figure let out a choked squeak. She might have been trying to say something. She was probably in a lot of pain. She probably didn't even know who was holding her. It had looked so painful when Gyutaro had separated her arms to unwrap them from his neck. He had lowered her to the ground as gently as he could in his state and curled up beside her, one arm over her back. His own breathing turned shallow.
"Save Ume," he said again. "Save Ume. Save her."
Such suffering.
Douma kneeled down in front of them, using his claws to slice open his arm.
He could turn them into demons now. Everything would turn out ok.
…
Would it, though?
They had already suffered so much in life. As demons they would bring more suffering to countless people. In the end, they would die miserably, screaming and hurling insults at each other.
He watched his blood drip onto the ground in front of the siblings. Gyutaro had lost consciousness. Ume was still whimpering.
It would be a mercy to absorb them.
To let them become one with him, where they'll be safe and rest in peace.
Heaven and Hell did exist, after all. They would not have nearly as many sins now as humans than they would as demons. Surely, they would go to Heaven? Turning them into demons would sentence them to Hell. It would be better for them to stay human and be reborn into a better life.
His arm stitched itself back together and he scooted forward, cupping the back of their heads with his hands. For a moment he considered using his Blood Demon Art to try and heal them, but it was pointless. Stupid. They were too far gone and his ability too ill-equipped. He should absorb them.
But…
Gyutaro had said please.
How sad it was that Douma was the only one Gyutaro felt he could turn to for help. A stranger he had known for only a few weeks.
Something was twisting his heart. Douma didn't like it.
"What now?" he asked it, frowning.
Of course, it didn't respond. He sighed wearily.
"I promised we'd see Shinobu again," he said. "It makes sense to turn them into demons. Their role was important. They need to be Upper Six. I can't stay in this rank for them. And their death… their death was important too. It was the first time an Upper Moon was slayed."
He stroked the siblings' heads with his thumbs as he thought. "You two want to be demons, don't you?" he asked. "Gyutaro, you said please. You know what that'd mean to me." He nodded to himself. "I'll turn you. Because it's what you wanted."
Douma was no stranger to people wanting things from him.
Giving people what they wanted. Making them happy?
It was why he was put on this Earth, wasn't it?
He wanted Gyutaro and Ume to be happy.
He lifted Ume's head with one hand.
She didn't have the pins he gave her, he noticed. Then, she hardly had anymore hair for them to support.
Her heartrate was beginning to stutter.
His own began to speed up.
He gouged it out and crushed it in his hand. His palm filled with blood and he tilted it into her mouth, massaging her throat so it would go down. After a few more handfuls of blood, Douma wiped his fingers onto Ume's shriveled tongue and burnt lips.
His heart had already regenerated, beating just as quickly as before.
He ripped it out again and moved to Gyutaro.
