Quietly burning

Chapter 1

Kyojuros POV:

I know a sadist when I see one; both my upbringing with an abusive father, as well as my current profession have taught me enough to spot them with ease. Muzan is one of them - although no particularly in-depth knowledge of the human psyche is necessary to make that deduction, I suppose. When he punishes someone, he makes it last. His actions don't make a lick of sense, naturally. By punishing me to the point where I'm unable to offer full services to the clients, he's losing out on money - as simple as that. But it would seem that what's more important to him is that I dig myself deeper into my hole of debt which I'll surely never repay him. I still have to come into the lounge room, still have to make myself presentable, still have to use up perfume, and, at the end of the night, I still have to scrub my skin with the awful stinging soap. Everything costs money. But my earnings are minimal. This is his way of tethering me to him for longer, I know it for a fact. This is his way of ensuring he'll never lose his petulant, obedient chew toy - one stern glare; a wordless threat against my friends and I bow to anything. Because he loves it. Maybe he gets off on it, hand already underneath his heavy oak desk before I close the door behind me after I manage to limp out of the room after a regular punishment.

He's not some mastermind, some genius; he probably isn't even that much of an ambitious entrepreneur, wanting to create the best brothel in France, despite what he says. He's just a sad little man with too much power, and desperate for more. Sometimes I see it, in his eyes, when I manage to get a glimpse - when I manage to blink away my tears, and the light from the fireplace falls on his face just right. As he chokes me, hits me, burns me, cuts me - there seems to be almost a brief wave of relief, of release, when he sees me cry, sees me struggle to keep in my sobs and struggles. As if my own tears are cathartic to him. Whom does he see on their knees, in front of him, instead of me? In his mind's eye? People who hurt him before? Is he still hurting? I could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But he causes enough suffering to innocent people, that I cannot forgive him. Not when he doesn't even want to make amends. I can't forgive him.

Not when I sit downstairs, yet another night in a row - must be a week by now - where I can't return to my normal tasks. Where I have to humbly apologise with an awkward smile for the temporary unavailability of my body - a client getting too rough is my go-to excuse; I can't just tell the clients my boss is punishing me - and bat my eyelashes prettily, hoping for a client desperate to the point where a simple blowjob would suffice him. Needless to say, there aren't many such clients. Two of them is a lucky night. Just to add to the long list of misfortunes that always follow Muzan's punishments; less clients mean more sitting around while my rear and insides still feel like they burned. At least the injury is healing well enough - that's what the doctor said two days ago at the monthly check-up, anyway. I hated it more than anything that there was no privacy at all, and the man revealed to everyone what was done to me, obviously not realising - or not giving a damn - that I dismissed all questions with half-truths such as, 'Muzan got angry with me a bit'. As I laid there on the table, the doctor between my spread legs, I saw Tanjiro's face, upside down, waiting his turn, as he pieced two and two and realised that it must have, indeed, been our employer who injured me this way - I saw the realisation in his eyes, saw the horror, saw him lurch forward, before Inosuke stopped him. What would he do? Go to Muzan's office? I don't doubt that he would give him a piece of his mind. That would only end badly. Still, I hated it that he had to find out this way - that he had to find out at all. The others; they probably had their guesses. But Tanjiro - Tanjiro was so pure still, so clean and bright and open, even if he serviced several customers already. I didn't want to crush his hope that this wasn't the worst place on earth. I didn't want to drag that boy into the mud with me. With us. No, I definitely can't forgive Muzan.

At the moment, I'm only managing to make some idle chat with a man I've seen around maybe once or twice - he doesn't seem like a very loaded client, but that's why he's tonight's hope; maybe the reduced price of my limited services will attract him. As I try to seem engaged with the dull topic he brought up, my stomach drops as with a corner of my eye I see one of my more regular clients leave with Tanjiro. Apparently, he's lost interest in asking for me every night - for a full night - only to be rejected each time. It will be a disaster if he loses interest in me for good. Although, at the same time, he'll surely take a liking to Tanjiro, and if he'll become his regular then the boy will be lucky. That man is definitely one of my easiest and less rough clients. Is? Was.