Killer/Kamazo x Reader Blind devotion

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Your wooden geta crunched the snow as you navigated over the damp lands, your cane in hand tapping in front of you softly, sounds dampened by the cushions of the star-frozen water. The path you took was well known, having taken it many times before near the Oihagi Bridge. You had been warned about the monk residing there, a man who sought for riches no one could provide, leaving bodies behind for others to find like tracks of footsteps on this path. Not sure when or where the robber would appear, you weren't even sure you'd met the man before. There had been instances where an unknown presence had been following you, but whether they were truly interested in you or the small amount of things you carried, you weren't so sure.

The cold bit into the bare skin of your face, the kimono only reaching as far as halfway your throat. It was truly a cold evening as you ventured on to your small home at the edge of one of the smaller villages of Ringo at the Eastern part of Wano. The wind blew soft flakes against your cheeks, a cold caress like the feathers of a small bird. Something rustled in the same breeze nearby, not akin to leaves of one of the trees, the sound too heavy. Trudging bravely on, it sounded again, closer this time and as you tapped the cane forward in a wider arch it caught onto something, halting your movements. The prodding of your cane was softer than before, your hand pulling away as a sound came from the thing you were hurting unintentionally. Slowly, not to scare the being in any way, you lowered to a crouch, one of your hands reaching forward to let your fingers graze soft and long hair. Locks of it slipped between your fingers before you let your hand feel around a bit more, mapping the area for your mind to comprehend what was there.

The soft pads of your fingers touched a sticky substance, only now the reek of cupper invading your nose. "Oh my. You poor thing." You whispered for no one to hear, fearing the person or animal might have found a gruesome place to die. The tips of your slender fingers found cloth covering the body, your fingers caressing over it before a hand grabbed your wrist. A yelp escaped your lips as the sudden motion caused you to lose your balance, the snow drenching your kimono at your knees. The person said nothing as tried to reassure them you didn't mean them any harm, didn't mean to hurt them with your cane and slowly their hand retracted from your wrist, the same sticky substance coating your skin. "Can you stand?" Your only response was the rustling of clothing before the person in front of you grunted, the strain of muscles too much to bear as the motion of getting up hurt. You reached for them, offering your help, only for your hand to be slapped away. Rising up yourself, you patiently waited for the other to get up as well, the snow now relentlessly beating against your shoulders as the wind pushed and pushed. A huff left the other's lips as the same hand grabbed your lower arm. "Let me help." You whispered softly, your own ears straining to hear your voice utter those words and for the replay you were waiting for.

That had been almost two days ago. The presence of the unknown person was soothing in a strange way. Your hands had been quick to tend to possible wounds, scarred fingers directing you to some extend as they showed you were the wounds were. Only when the fever had caught on them, did you realise it was a man you had picked up from the streets, their groans tugging on your heartstrings, reminding you of the sick children you had tried to save almost a lifetime ago. Fingers wrung the cold water from the cloth, droplets trickling over your skin and down your wrist towards your elbows. With all the care of a mother to their child did you brush away the sweat coating his face and cover the man's forehead, cooling down the heat even a little bit. A humm vibrated from your chest, a song of your childhood echoing from the past as you whispered the words into the otherwise silent room, your silent imprisonment.

As you reached for the bowl of water, you were tackled, the earth tumbling as you lost the sensation of what was up and what was down. A hand grabbed your throat, cutting off your airway. Brows furrowed and chest heaving, you tried to regain some small and desperate breaths as your hands held the wrist of your attacker. "Who are you?" The voice a beautiful baritone, the question an expected one even after he had gone with you out of his own free will, but the actions hostile. A whimper left your lips, not enough air left to answer his inquiry as your chin tilted up. The grip tightened, the person impatient to your silence while you hit his arm weakly.