Listener - Akaza X Reader

caring for a human

She was so silent.

God, it almost pissed Akaza off whenever she spoke to him with such low and emotionless volume. When he told her he was going to bathe her, all she did was nod. Despite that, the moment he untied her from the painful ropes that kept her stubbornness down a notch, she attempted to run off so quickly that she would almost hurt herself even more.

"Did this moron forget she can't even walk? Why is she pushing herself so hard when I clearly am not laying so much as a finger on her?" Akaza's thoughts were as quick and fierce as his movements as she attempted to run away again. As she fell, his body moved like light. Fingers wrapping around the back of her nightgown, he caught her right before her face planted itself against the floor.

With loose hair that hung past her face, brushing the floorboards, her fragile arms were hanging down like sad wisteria vines.

All Akaza did was release a sigh of relief, before picking the human up and between his arms. He carried her nearly lifeless body to a bathing room. It was surprisingly clean, and she kept it unnoticed that he must've prepared it for her. The water was filled generously with warm, clear water. Sitting her down, he carefully leaned her back on the wall.

"I am going to clean you now. If you don't let the water clean your wounds," his eyes darted down to hers, watching as her sunken eyes stared into the water, lyou will never be able to weile a sword again."

(Y/n) had a dream.

She never had any tragedy in her life that forced her into the life of a Demon Slayer. After being abandoned by her mother and left alone with her father, she was raised by a single man; treated like a princess, no less.

Her siblings were close to her and she made many friends growing up in school. If she had continued on this positive pathway, she would've easily been able to work as a model, or find a wealthy husband to grant her any desire.

Despite this ideal life, she found herself deeply attracted to someone's aura. This someone was a big, well-built man in a black uniform. His attire was just as grand as himself, and she noticed he would constantly visit her town.

With such immense interest, she spoke to him about what his attire was meant for, and what it stood for. Most Demon Slayers are silent about their jobs, so it was a miracle she noticed this man, who was deeply hidden amongst the shadows.

This miracle was something the man believed as a blessing. (Y/n) would stand with the future of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Pain surged through her body as she allowed the demon to strip her of her sole pride.

She wasn't going to let her own stubbornness intensify her own injuries to the point of retirement. Her filthy nightgown was tossed to the side of the room, clearly meant to be thrown away in due time. Whenever his warm fingertips scaled her skin, it tickled slightly, causing her stomach to suck itself in..

To her surprise, he hardly looked at anything except his hands and her face. Entirely naked, he refused to stare at her beautifully bruised body.

All he did was pick her up by her waist and dip her slowly into the water. Her toes burned at it, and reflex made her hesitant. This was one of the only moments she looked back at him; her eyes glanced into his own, telling him it hurt.

He looked at her glossy eyes, holding her frail body above the water. Something about the way his eyes rested at the sight of her perfection, it made him feel beautifully human. Her knees curled upwards, away from the water, but as both of their eyes stayed locked against each other like magnets, her feet did the same thing with the water. Nice and slow, she dipped them in and adjusted the temperature of the water to the cuts against her skin.

The burn calmed, and she quickly looked away from him. Deeper. He pushed her into the water slowly, with much less struggle. Soon enough, she sat fully emerged in the tub, smoke rising from the water.

Akaza kneeled down, taking her hair inbetween his hands and beginning his transformation. (Y/n)'s once soft hair became dirty and shabby due to their fight, but he renewed it to the best of his ability with this bath.

Dirt and blood fell off and soaked into the water, some of it even staining his hands. Despite the filth, he found it difficult to find such a thing disgusting. Her eyes rested and she leaned against the tub, that precious face of hers looking away from him. At some points, he almost figured she'd fallen asleep, but that was just for a few seconds of stillness.

Taking a small rag and dipping it into the water, he scrubbed at her skin with a delicate touch, making sure that he didn't reopen any wounds. A few drops of water fell from her cheeks to the bath. She was crying. Just a little bit.

He knew that humans are fragile beings better than anyone else, of course.

Eventually turning her around, she was clean for the most part.

A small blush tinted the top of her cheeks. Am I really supposed to be blushing at this? No one has ever touched me like this before. Is it right.?

She didn't dare to open her eyes as he continued washing and washing. Once he finished, he picked her slippery body up and held her on her feet before wrapping a towel around her.

At this point, she did keep her eyes open, but kept them down. Both of her tiny hands came up, holding the towel against her chest. With a rag, he scrunched her hair in attempt to remove most of the water. He eventually sat her down, since she could barely stand, and managed to get her hair damply dry.

"Change into this. Your clothing from earlier is too much of a mess to wear."

Akaza pointed demandingly at a small white dress, made of some sort of silk, folded on a stool. Overtop it was a pair of sweet white socks.

The door handle was warm from the heat of the tub, a bit wet to the touch, but his strong grip didn't change that.

"My name is (Y/n)."

She sat on the floor, like a broken vase. Puddles of water sat around her. Akaza turned and looked at her in shock. This was the first time he'd ever felt so caught off guard.

Don't you hate me, he thought, but the girl didn't look his way. She just sat there like an annoying weakling, crumpled to nothing.

"Alright," there was a pause, a momentary pause where his unusually chapped lips met with his tongue to rehydrate, "(Y/n)."

The door shut behind him with a short bang as he left her in the now quiet room, the only sound came from water that still dropped from the faucet of the tub. When the door shut, his feet refused to move. Quietly, his arm raised up, hand covering his face slightly.

A burning sensation tingled across this face, and his stomach was churning with a feeling similar to what he felt during a passionate fight. He was excited.