Muzan oneshots

Fathers and son

A/N: This is basically part of the lore for my future story. This is just fluff. A kakebuton is basically a blanket for a futon. And Muzan's human name will be Tsukihiko.

Akira lay on his futon, a wet handkerief on his sweaty forehead and the kakebuton covering his body. He was frail and weak, it seemed. The heir simply laid in his futon, his long black hair out of his usual style and scattered around his head, looking like a halo, his blue eyes half lidded as his hands weakly clenched his white yukata. He slowly sat up, shaking voilently as he looked around and saw his three year old son awake. He smiled at his young boy. "My child, why are you awake?" he asked in a gentle tone.

His son smiled at him and hugged his father. "Morning oto-chan..." he said softly as he lay his head atop of Akira's upper thigh as the man caressed his soft hair. "Good morning, my son. I think it is too early for you to be awake, no?" he said, his grip a little tighter than normal on his son as he laid back down on the bed and motioned for him to lay back down as well, to go back to bed.

"I know, but where is oto-san?" the boy asked as he lay next to his father, curious where Chimon, or, his other father, was. Chimon was a samurai, the strongest of their time, and wedded to Akira, as he could barely move out of his futon, anyway. "My husband is busy, out doing his job. He has his own work, he is a samurai and his time is valuable." he stated simply, putting his arm around his son and pulling him a little closer in bed. "Why, were you concerned?" he asked, trying not to snicker at how adorable his son was asking so many questions.

Tsukihiko nodded. "Mhm! I wanna play with you and oto-san," he pouted as he cuddled against his father's chest. "I know you do, but your oto-san does not have the time right now. He has duties to fulfill as a samurai." he explained, but did not make any effort to push the baby boy off of him. Instead, he let his son lay there as his other hand gently brushed at his son's black hair. What a joy he had become in their lives.

The boy nodded in understanding. "Okay! When will oto-san come back, oto-chan?" he raised an eyebrow whilst tilting his head slightly, his dark purple eyes looking curiously into Akira's blue ones. "I am not sure, my child," he said, chuckling at his son's antics and questions. "Maybe he will be home in time for dinner? Maybe, he will be home later tonight? Or maybe..." he trailed off, not really sure when his husband would be coming home.

Tsukihiko nodded at Akira. "Oto-chan?" he asked whilst nuzzling against Akira's cheek. "Yes, my child?" Akira's tone is gentle, his eyes still half lidded as he waits for his three year old son to speak.  "Can I do your hair tomorrow?" he asked with a smile as Akira hugged him. Akira thought for a moment. "My hair? Well.... I do not see why not. My own hands are weak enough as of right now. You can style my hair. But just do not... do anything too fancy, my son." he said with a soft smile.

Tsukihiko looked at him with dot eyes at the 'not too fancy' part. "What do you mean by 'not too fancy', oto-chan?" he asked. "My hair is very long, very hard to style." he chuckled. "You must be careful with the hairpins." he stated, remembering his husband telling him how to put the hair pins in and take them out. "Do not use too many. It will damage the hair." he stated, thinking of things his husband should have taught their son by now.

His son made an 'oooh' sound of understanding. "Okay!" he grinned and hugged his father's arm. "Oto-chan?" Akira's eyes looked down to his son. "Well, my son? What is it?" he asked sweetly, ruffling through his son's hair. Tsukihiko thought for a moment on how to word his question to not sound rude. "Why can't you and I go outside? I saw other children play outside but when I want to, I feel weak, why is that?"

Akira was silent for a moment after hearing his son's question, thinking of how much his son reminded him of himself at the age of three. "I am sick, my child. If I move around too much, my body gets tired. I become even more sick if I move too much." he stated, hoping to explain it in a way his three year old son would understand. "Do I have the same sickness?" he asked softly as he hugged his father to try and comfort him of some sort.