𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ー muzan kibutsuji
𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ー kokushibo
"WHATEVER you need or desire, (L/N)(Y/N), I will obtain it for you," Muzan announced as they wandered through the crowd, their hands still tightly locked together, his eyes flicking from stall to stall of the market-lined streets. "Like I've told you, I despise leaving a debt unpaid."
"What if I ask for a building?" She questioned.
"Then I will buy it."
"You're making me believe that I can demand almost anything from you, and you will give it to me," (Y/N) chuckled softly under her breath.
"Was there ever a moment where I made you believe I wouldn't?" He exhaled softly, as if irritated that she would think so lowly of him—as if irritated that she would ever think that he would not be able to attain for her whatever she asked for. "Ask for jewels, ask for clothes, ask for a building... whatever you want, as I've said, I will give you."
(Y/N) lowered her gaze to the ground.
No matter if Muzan didn't put much thought behind his words, it was enough to make her heart flutter ever so softly.
It was a strange sensation, she noted.
Allowing herself to browse through the multitude of shops that lined the streets, she watched the vendors in brightly-colored clothing shouting at those passing by to buy whatever it was that they were selling: woven cloth with patterns like that of the sea or of the earth, spices of all kinds that made the air smell of parsley and sage, jewels that ranged from diamonds to rubies that glittered so effortlessly in the light, cutlery and pottery and tea bowls that looked to be carved and set with a patient hand, and boundless amounts of other treasures.
She breathed in deeply.
Closing her eyes, the sounds of laughter and chatter, the sounds of materials clinking together, the smell of burning fire and cooking food, and the steady thrum of her heartbeat all wove together in a harmony that she felt drowned out the world.
And then there was Muzan's hand holding hers.
The way he held her close so she wouldn't stray was almost protective, and she truly wondered what sort of act he was putting up, if it were an act at all.
(Y/N) glanced up at Muzan.
She stared at him.
She traced his features.
"Have you ever had long hair before, Kibutsuji Muzan?" She suddenly questioned, the man not turning around since he had felt her burning stare, now realizing the reason behind it. "I think it would suit you. Has anyone ever told you this before? I wouldn't be surprised if they did."
"Why are you suddenly interested in my hair style?" Muzan frowned.
"There's no reason," she shook her head. "It was just a thought when observing you. You can learn a lot about others through observation. I'm sure you already know this, though."
"You're correct," he hummed. "I've learned many things about you through observation alone."
"Like what?"
"We've been walking around here for thirty minutes, and you've yet to find something that's caught your eye," Muzan lifted his chin as he continued walking, his red eyes flaring with a type of foreign emotion that he was satisfied (Y/N) couldn't see. "It means that you do not willingly throw everything away for gaudy wealth. Or more like, the facade of wealth. However, it could also mean that you truly do not want for anything."
"I am pleased with my situation, you know this."
"That's what baffles me," Muzan scowled, his grip on her hand tightening, but not to the point where it hurt her. "Humans always crave for more to the point they're insatiable."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Your obsessive ambition to survive is insatiable, isn't it?" (Y/N) mused with a tilt of her head as she lifted her fingers to run them through the purposely frayed, intricate ends of hung tapestries. "It's what led you to murder and kill and create more demons for the past hundreds of years, isn't it? Because you want more? Because you want to walk in the sun, no matter if it means wasting immortality on trying to find such a cure, no?"
"I've gained a strong body," Muzan spat out. "But it's imperfect. And as the being the closest to that perfection, it's only natural that I try and obtain it."
"The more you fight, though, the more you lose."
"You know nothing."
"You're wrong," (Y/N) immediately cut him off, her expression set in a determined and rather stoic manner that Muzan found himself entranced by, if only for a moment before he turned his gaze forward. "The tighter you hold on to something, the easier it is for it to snap in your grip, making you lose everything. I enjoy our talks, Kibutsuji Muzan. It would be a shame if they were to end."
Muzan stayed silent.
And while he would never admit it aloud, he too enjoyed their conversations.
Their conversations were distracting to the point where he could almost think of nothing else, his mind consumed with (Y/N) and the way she looked when speaking, of her words, of her peaceful and graceful manner. Glancing back at her, finding her smiling softly at a pair of children running past her laughing, his gaze then dropped to their still interwoven fingers.
Such a fact had momentarily slipped his mind.
But now that it was presented before him so clearly, it was all that he could think about.
Muzan strode forward to try and get to the end of the market-lined streets where it wouldn't be so crowded until he felt a slight tug on his arm, turning to find that (Y/N) had suddenly stopped with her head twisted in a certain stall's direction, her (E/C) eyes large and blinking with slight awe. Allowing his arm to go slack, he followed her to said stall, then following her gaze to a pair of earring nestled neatly into a plush, velvet box.
They were simple enough with a silver frame, but the earring itself was so deep a red that it almost resembled blood.
But to (Y/N), it resembled something different.
"How pretty..." she murmured as her smile softened, Muzan's stare fixated on such an expression. "They remind me a bit of your eyes, Kibutsuji Muzan. Such a shade of red is rare... it almost seems like fate, doesn't it?"
Muzan's lips parted.
"Yes... it seems so."
つづく | to be continued