The Demon Queen

The Mess

Muzan kept coughing and threw up some more. His white kimono was completely soiled, both from his own vomit and from the soup that spilt onto his lap and the floor. I coughed, almost choking, but didn't vomit any more.

Soon, after violently coughing at the sad pieces of pink salmon staring up at me, I started to feel normal. I grabbed at my neck and rubbed my throat, looking over to Muzan. He also seemed to be normal now, but he was obviously furious. His hands were balled into tight fists, gripping with all their might onto his soiled kimono. He sneered ahead of himself with a popping vein at the side of his head, his red eyes flashing in the lanterns' light.

All of a sudden, he pulled back his arm and swung it at the dishes in front of us, sending them spiralling through the room towards the door. The floor was now filthy with tea, fish, meat, rice, vegetables, soup, and the fruity desserts that were brought for us. I stared in shock at the scene in front of me, unable to believe what I just saw.

I never before saw Muzan act so violently.

"Mu --!"

He turned to me. His face suddenly softened upon seeing me. "Are you all right?"

He sounded so concerned, so incredibly concerned for someone who had just lashed out.

"I'm fine," I replied. "And you are ...?"

Muzan rubbed his nose with his finger. "I think so." He paused and stared down at the vomit. "I don't understand. It's the same food I've eaten all my life." He looked at me. "Did it smell ... odd ... to you?"

I nodded. "Yes. It was ... I don't know. I don't understand it, either."

Muzan stood up. "I'm fetching a servant to clean this up. I'll tell my father that we became sick from the food and he can do what he wants with the cook."

I wonder if it's not the food but us, I thought quickly.

I snapped to my feet and grabbed his arm. "You can't do that," I said.

"What do you mean I can't?" he asked a bit defensively.

"I don't think it's the food," I said. "I think it's us."

He stared at me.

"The doctor's flesh and blood was delicious to us last night," I said. "That's not normal. The people who'd eat this food wouldn't eat another human so easily."

Muzan was silent.

"You know I'm right," I said. "It's not the food. It's us. Something is very wrong with us."

Muzan paused, continuing to stare at me. "I know," he said. "And I don't know what to do."

I watched him for a moment and then pulled him closer. "We have to clean this up."

"I'm not a maid."

"Muzan," I said sternly. "We have to clean this up."

He looked at me with a sneering pout on his face.

"We'll use the doctor's clothing as rags and put it away. When it's nighttime we can go out and burn it all."

Muzan said nothing.

"We have to learn how to deal with this, Muzan," I said. I smiled a little and squeezed at his arm. "Right now, there's a price to pay for your healthy body."

"You don't mind?" he asked with a guilty expression on his face.

I shook my head. "Nope."

The guilt seemed to spread throughout his body. "You're paying for my healthy body, too. I ... I did this to you."

"That's fine."

He continued to look at me.

"You always said, whatever comes we can get through it, as long as we're together," I told him. "We'll get through this, too."

"Nothing can defeat us anymore?" he asked, the tone of his voice in between posing a question and making a statement.

I nodded. "That's right."

Muzan slowly turned his head to look at the mess in the room. "Fine," he said. "We'll clean this up."