Let Me Take Care Of You

CHAPTER 6: How Shitty The Hole Is

I never knew that when you enjoy writing your own fanfic so much, you would constantly re-read and edit it like a maniac. (^∇^d)

Anyway, I had to research up karate moves so hopefully what I am describing creates a good visualization for you guys!

[Image Above: RΞMOIRΞ/@remoireArt

https://twitter.com/remoireart/status/920201151810650112

(When I am able to, I will cite the source.)]

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"What did I do in my past life that you must hate me like this Muzan?!?" As soon as Daisuke had stepped inside the building, he was instantaneously transported and strapped to his office's chair. Piles of sleek, pure mountains stood before him.

I can't even see Muzan past this crap!

"Boss, I already hate you indescribably in this life," as he stacked another pile of forms on top of Daisuke's head. "This wasn't even in my job description. Of all times for Alan and Geordo to be pulled into international business... Anyway, I want all of these done by today."

"WAH-Y-Y-You can't be serious!" He already felt his soul leaving, waving good-bye to his incompetent physical body.

"Try me."

*****

"I'm dead. Mentally. Intellectually. Physically." A pale body was face-down in the mahogany wood desk, hair sticking in every direction and obsidian ink all over his hands. A pen was taped in each hand, curtsy of Muzan.

"Yayyyy. Now, we're not finished."

"Did you not hear what I just said!?!"

"It's the last one."

Daisuke's head popped up, suddenly feeling revitalized.

God, Buddha, Brahma, Arceus, or whatever higher powers – thank you, thank you!"

"We need to decide this year's charity work and donations. I have compiled a list."

Daisuke glanced at the list, scrolling through it; hmmmm, huh, what's this?

"Institution? Is that a school? It's pretty close to my home."

Muzan looked over his shoulder, "Oh, that's the...Well...How do I explain?" Mumbling a few words, Muzan seemed to give up eventually.

"To put it bluntly, it's an orphanage for trouble children."

"Hmmmm, we'll be going there now." Daisuke stated, standing up, ripping the pens off his hands, readjusting his tie, and trying to tame his hair down.

"Sure-NOW?!?"

*****

"Did I step into a hospital or a prison?" The entire place was so white and stunk of disinfectant; Daisuke swore that he could see his reflection through the plain tiles. Empty, empty, empty, where in the world were the toys, books, or even the kids? Hell, the only thing this place was suitable for was filming horror shots.

Earlier, he and Muzan had gone to talk to the director, who seemed wholly unprepared and surprised that people had to kick down the creaky, deadbolt stuck front door. The director had then ushered them to his office's two wooden chairs that Daisuke knew for sure were rotten. He and Muzan vehemently decided to continue the discussion standing up, where he learned that there were supposedly roughly twenty children.

"Roughly?"

"Well, you see...," he stumbled over words before Muzan lost his patience, "EXPLAIN."