🩸☾ BloodMoon (KokuZan) Oneshots ☽🩸

Ask, and you shall receive an answer.

"Lord Muzan? Is something.. the matter? Have I been.. plagued?"

Ever since becoming a demon, Kokushibo never found himself engaged with others. He hadn't forgotten much from his human life, yet this one sensation really seemed to ruffle his feathers. Kokushibo wasn't too sure what is was. It frustrated the Upper Moon, to great levels, as he could not depict ever falling prey to a mere emotion. Yet here he was, turning to his master for help.

If anything, this seemed like it was a therapy session; Muzan and Kokushibo were paying their full attention to each other. Muzan had allowed himself to sit on a sofa, with Kokushibo sprawled over the sofa, head in Muzan's lap. It was more casual like this. Muzan found it a lot easier to get words out of Kokushibo while they were positioned like this. Though, the redness of Kokushibo's cheeks seemed to stir some confusion in Muzan system; it was almost like Kokushibo had a beating heart and pumping blood.

Muzan responded to Kokushibo's question with a simplistic answer, but with a lot of intention behind it.

"What are your symptoms, Kokushibo? For I may have a cure."

Kokushibo fell silent for a moment, consumed in his own thoughts. He was trying to articulate his "symptoms" as Muzan wanted him to. After a few moments of silence, with Muzan running his hands through Kokushibo's hair, the latter began to speak again.

"It fills me.. with warmth.. as if the heavens had.. reached out and.. embraced me."

Kokushibo spoke as slow as usual, thinking through his words very carefully. Every word had been double—no, triple—checked in his mind.

With a slightly shaken voice, Kokushibo continued.

"My head feels light.. and I feel so.. small.—You do relate.. to what I am saying.. right?"

Muzan reassured Kokushibo with a small nod, gently pulling some of Kokushibo's tresses into the beginning of a braid. That was enough to bring the other male into some comfort, as he resumed speaking soon after.

"I feel so small.. yet so strong.. as if I am on top of the.. world. They—"

Kokushibo was cut off by a sudden—but welcome—interruption from Muzan. The latter had spoken, sounding curious.. and a bit jealous.

"Who is this "they", kokushibo? Has someone been causing bother? If so, I shall have their head as a trophy!"

Muzan looked down at Kokushibo, grasping the braid he had been making with a few strands of the other's hair. Muzan seemed annoyed about whomever was causing issues for Kokushibo; he could not have his precious upper moon in harm's way.

Kokushibo answered with a small noise; not expecting Muzan to grasp his hair so tightly. But, he was the upper moon 1. Kokushibo had been through worse than some hair pulling.

"Lord Muzan.. this "they".. is you. This all happens.. when I am around you. Oh, Lord Muzan.. please tell me if I'm sick.. Relieve me of this.. feeling."

As he spoke, Kokushibo turned his head to the right, letting the side of his cheek rest on Muzan's upper thigh. Kokushibo had turned his body to the right, so he was facing Muzan a bit better now, still laying across Muzan's lap.

Kokushibo felt another spike of the dreaded emotion as he inhaled deeply against Muzan's belt. It smelled like Muzan, spicy, like rosemary. A blush churned up on Kokushibo's cheeks, and his face—accompanied by his back—felt so warm.

Muzan fell silent, as his hands loosened their grip on Kokushibo's hair. He watched how Kokushibo reacted to his own words, and how Kokushibo inhaled a little, and only blushed more. This left Muzan so happy. Had Kokushibo confessed to him, even if it was without the intention to? If made Muzan's 7 hearts skip a beat or two.