The Demon Queen

Tamayo's Mistake

Tamayo turned out to be a meek, obedient servant. However, she still didn't sit well with me, so I refused to speak much with her or give her any orders. I told Muzan to handle it all, which he did with an over-inflated sense of importance.

Tamayo was never allowed into our wing, and because he never grew to trust her, Muzan would lock her into her quarters with a barrier once sunrise was approaching. She did do a good job cleaning the castle, even though Muzan and I still had to tend to our own wing. I continued to find it rather useless to have Tamayo as a servant and then have to clean my own space, but by no means did I want her around my things. Muzan agreed, not for the reasons I had in mind that Tamayo might dare steal or soil something, but because he wanted his privacy. Our bedroom in particular was a place that Muzan believed was inappropriate for anyone else to be in or see but us.

Over the years, we found that Tamayo had a talent. Well, we had to find her a hobby, so we gave her fabrics and sewing materials to make her own clothes. She turned out to be very skilled in it, making very beautiful items for herself. Muzan then told her to make extra so we could find a way to sell them for extra money. He liked to use the money we made to buy us both ornate clothing of our own from the shops open past sundown. We quickly got into the habit of wearing items that more or less matched.

Every week, Muzan would give Tamayo a health examination and take notes on her physical state. He became very immersed in this, finding it really all-too fascinating to track the development of a "domesticated demon". I assisted him in this, mostly by telling him if I agreed or disagreed with his notes.

After about 75 years passed, I started to get the feeling that Tamayo was more assured in herself. Nothing changed about her physically, and even her energy remained the same. It was something in how she held her face, the specific expressions she had, and the gleam in her eyes that would come and go with a very slight curling up of one side of her mouth.

Muzan didn't seem to notice what I did. I wasn't surprised. He, who had been so isolated from people during his earlier years, never fully developed the idea to read another person. That was, except for myself, who had served as his only close companion during his long life. Even though he could manipulate others when faced with a topic related to death, Muzan was very naive in interpersonal interactions. In many ways, he never moved past the sheltered little boy I first met him as, spoilt and doted on by his mother and utterly shunned by his peers.

There was one time I had hoped he would have also become suspicious of Tamayo.

"Tell her that she didn't smooth out the rug in the library after she cleaned it," I said to Muzan during one of the weekly work-related evaluation meetings we had with her.

Muzan looked at Tamayo. "There's a very particular way we want this done," he said. "Normally, you fulfill our expectations. But it seems you've gotten a bit lazy in completing the task, am I not correct?"

I was about to roll my eyes, prepared to hear the same "I'm sorry, Muzan-sama. I'll remember to take note of that next time." Tamayo would say whenever she did some task incorrectly. It didn't happen very often, but occasionally she would make an idiotic mistake and then repeat it at a later date. Not smoothing the rug, not putting the correct cups and bowls together, folding clothes after washing when they were still slightly damp ... I could swear it was deliberate.

But this time, Tamayo looked Muzan straight in the eye and said, "Well, I cleaned it and smoothed it out the same as I always do. I spent a lot of time cleaning it. You can see."

My eyes widened at her talking back to us and daring to look into Muzan's eyes. I couldn't believe what was going on. Never before had she responded like this.

Does she want to die or something? I thought. Well, if she does, Muzan can take care of it.

Muzan raised an eyebrow and stared at Tamayo. "What?" he asked in a reprimanding tone.

Suddenly, as if hit with the realisation of her slip of the tongue, Tamayo's eyes widened and she quickly bowed her head to Muzan. "I mean, I spent a lot of time cleaning the rug as I normally do, Muzan-sama," she said in a quick, nervous voice. "If it wasn't smoothed-out to your satisfaction, I'm very sorry. I'll take more time and precision in the future, Muzan-sama."

So, she sees she let something out that she shouldn't have and is desperately trying to make up for it, I thought as I eyed Tamayo suspiciously.

"Next time, I promise to exceed your expectations, Muzan-sama."

Cut the crap, you little ...

"If you find you're getting into the poor habit of forgetting the exact instructions of how to do your tasks, I'll buy you a small book to carry with you," Muzan said. "You can write everything down and keep the book with you at all times."

He can't be seri--

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Muzan-sama. I'm very grateful. Thank you, Muzan-sama!"

Every time she said "Muzan-sama", I felt my stomach turn more. Tamayo obviously knew how to play him, just as he knew how to play her. Muzan sat smugly, looking at her, his face full of satisfaction. It was as if every "Muzan-sama" tickled his ego in such a tantalising way that he got an immediate high off of it.

It made me so damn sick.

Muzan snickered very lightly under his breath. "I'll get you the book," he said. "Don't make any more brainless mistakes, and all will be fine."

"Yes, Muzan-sama!"

"You may return to your quarters now."

"Yes, Muzan-sama!"

I watched as Tamayo rushed off out of our sight. Once she was gone and I could hardly hear her footsteps, I looked to Muzan, who sat straight and proudly.

"Muzan ..." I said. "-sama ..."

As if suddenly snapped out of his fantasy thoughts, Muzan looked at me. "Sakura? What was that?" he asked in a confused voice.

I stared at him. "Never mind."

Muzan stood up. "If you want to say that, you can repeat that, but it makes me feel strange, to be honest," he said as he stepped over to me. With an amused smirk on his face, he put his hands on my shoulders. "Let's try 'Shujin-san'*. Or would you rather 'Shujin-kun'?" He leant towards me to kiss me, blushing, as if seduced by his imagining me calling him anything that would include the word "shujin" in it.

I scrunched up my face. He was seriously disgusting me. "I'm not calling you any 'shujin' or '-san' or '-sama'!" I exclaimed and shoved him away from me. "Stop this!"

"Don't you shove me!"

"I'll shove you all I want if you let that little -- that little -- experiment of yours get into your head!" I glared at him. "That's what she did, Muzan," I said sharply to him. "She got into your head. Remember that."

I walked away. To my relief, he just stood there and didn't follow me. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. Not until he would have it sink into his mind that yes, Tamayo could play the manipulation game, too. And she won this round.

*Shujin: the Japanese word for "master" and also traditionally used for "husband". By using "Shujin-san", it makes the word less formal than "Shujin-sama". "Shujin-kun" would never be used as a form of address, but in its use in the story is supposed to mean making the word "shujin" cute or teasing between the couple.