Every fiber of Akaza' being itched; burned with an unquenchable need to destroy that kid as he waited for the last flickers of sunset to fade into darkness. The remnants of that demon slayer's sword lay scattered on the ground outside, but it wasn't enough. His desire for revenge was unrelenting.
Memories taunted him relentlessly:
"You let a weakling injure you, Akaza."
"This boy is not weak. Do not insult him."
"YOU COWARD! "
"Ugh!" he slams the side of his fist against the cave wall he took refuge in. The events from a few nights ago were still fresh - Kyojuro's strength, Muzan reprimanding him for dawdling, And That fucking kid's insult. But Something else was festering too, something he couldn't put his finger on, but It had to do with that flame hashira he fought.
Kyojuro Rengoku was undoubtedly special, a rarity amongst rarities, but that underling Kyojuro wasted his life protecting...
...Well, let's just say that kid was special too... a special kind of stupid, that is.
Akaza had an excellent memory, photographic, some would say.
He's been called a coward by powerful warriors in the past–many times, in fact, but they all perished shortly after. So To be called a coward so brazenly by a helpless weakling laid strewn on the ground, while the sun blatantly rose in the sky preventing him from turning back...
Pissed him off.
It offended all of his senses.
And the sword he threw into his back was like the cherry on top.
He checks in with his master for new orders.
Nothing.
So tonight he was free to do as he pleased.
When darkness falls, he sets off for town.
From his perch high on a tree, he watched. Akaza has seen many autumn festivals, but this town seemed particularly proud of this tradition, if the hustle and bustle was anything to go off. The streets were filled with a dizzying aroma of spices and the nauseating scent of human cuisine. Women danced and sang while men played instruments, laughing together like old comrades, though he's positive most were just strangers. Children ran through the streets, wrestling each other to get a good view of the festivities and sights. husbands bought gifts for their wives, and wives returned the favor to their husbands. And some fathers, he noted, even bought fine jewelry for their daughters, along with long silk robes in a deep scarlet hue.
It fascinated him to watch sights that should've stirred great anger within him.
The mundanity, the short-sightedness, their weaknesses...
Yet, sitting high above, watching it all from the treeline, none of that registers. Maybe if he were an active participant, it would, but as an observer, it felt scientific.
Like a perplexing riddle that begged to be solved:
What is it about the little things in life that bring so much joy and fulfillment... to them and him?
There were no powerful warriors in this town, but he admired the townsfolk for their work ethic, always buzzing around busily, valuing their finite amount of time to perfect their craft and experience all life had to offer. Such views ran in direct opposition to Lord Muzan, and Upper Moon 1. Such weak and short-sighted mindsets are the reason these human beings will never achieve greatness, is what they always say.
Too bad.
If Akaza had it his way, he'd offer to turn every one of them into a demon, provided they maintained that same work ethic. In a century, their craftsmanship would be something to truly marvel. Too bad most couldn't handle the cellular transformation.
He'd never voice it in front of his deranged and wildly eccentric compatriots, but a part of him enjoyed watching human life. Their existences, while weak and ephemeral, were always busy and hardworking. A commonality they both shared.
Unlike the other upper moons, he was very particular about the way he went about things.
Weak people... no matter how much they angered him, threatened him, or were just downright pathetic, weren't appetizing. Not children. Not women. Not even weak men, especially the elderly or sick.
Muzan tortured him for his refusal to eat, pretty brutally, he might add. Calling it cowardly human behavior, but from the beginning, Akaza's always been competent and strong. So he compensated by working harder, proving his worth in the end to his master.
He didn't need to store and eat hundreds of people in some underhanded way like Daki and Gyutaro, nor did he need to consume hordes of women through deception like Doma or stitch them into flesh-dolls like Gyokko or lie like Hantengu either.
No, Akaza was strong all on his own. He could afford to be selective...
"YOU COWARD!"
"Argh! That fucking brat!" He gritted his teeth till they cracked as his ears rang again from that stupid kid's insult.
He was no coward!
He beat Kyojuro fair and square!
He could've finished him off immediately but he gave the flame hashira every opportunity to use the full range of his flame-breathing techniques. He drew the fight out purposefully. It's why Muzan reprimanded him!
It was fair.
Honorable! There was nothing cowardly about the way he went about it!
He snarls, punching the bough of the tree until it snaps and breaks.
Even when he inflicted the killing blow, he implored him to reconsider. He was no fucking coward! The choice to die was Kyojuro's and Kyojuro alone!
He hops to another tree, high above the heads of humans walking by, leans back and closes his eyes to empty his mind.
When his ears pick up something- more like someone–making him sit up.
Female...? Hard to tell. The voice gargled and sputtered as if choking.
There was a river nearby, perhaps a drowning? Curiosity wills him out of his tree to investigate, he hops down landing gracefully on his feet and heads for the riverbank.
YOU ARE READING
Time Waits For No Man
FanficAfter saving a woman from gang-rape, Akaza is asked to babysit her kids. She knows he's a demon and he's certain they've never met before so why does he feel he's been here before?
