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3ʀᴅ ᴘᴏᴠ (◍•ᴗ•◍)
The following nights brought [Name] a lot more comfort than they expected. It felt odd to let Murata into their space, but the boy was persistent in his endeavors of friendship and he eventually succeeded.
The dusty cabin that they stayed in turned into a small home for the two of them. Murata used some of his hard-earned cash to buy a futon for himself, two cushions, and small necessities like extra clothes for him and [Name].
Murata got quite a fright when he saw [Name]'s fangs for the first time, and when he witnessed their snowflake markings glow in the dark. Throughout the two weeks he'd stayed with them, he thought the markings were hand-drawn by a talented artist.
That's when it finally clicked that the child was a demon. Yet even after learning this fact, he still felt compelled to stay with them.
Not only because practically every Hashira was searching for them, but also because they suffered a great deal. In his eyes, they didn't deserve everything they went through, especially at their age.
After Murata gifted them the book and ink brushes, they spent most of their evening drawing whatever came to mind.
Whenever [Name] finished a simple drawing, they would proudly show it to Murata who would display their artwork across the wall. The child mostly stuck to drawing animals and flowers but Murata didn't mind.
However one night, [Name] felt compelled to draw something different.
Murata came into the cabin like usual. His body was heavy with exhaustion as he spent the whole day training with his friend, Noguchi, he slipped off his shoes and plopped himself down on his futon. [Name] didn't acknowledge his presence, they were too engrossed in perfecting their sketch.
The boy didn't think much of it, [Name] never really seemed that enthusiastic when he came. They were excited about seeing him but he still got the sense that they were holding back some of it.
Like they had an unspoken oath to distance themselves from any human they saw. Maybe it was a demon thing?
"Hey [Name]." Murata greeted as he sat cross-legged on his futon. "What are you drawing today?"
"Something..." [Name] mumbled as they paid him no mind, their attention being stolen by their artwork.
Murata only hummed as he leaned back onto his elbows. Over the week, he had several questions on his mind, the majority of them were related to [Name]'s past. The only thing he knew was their name and their age. Where were [Name]'s parents? How did they get here? How did they develop their fear of humans and most importantly;
How did they become a demon at such a young age?
"It wouldn't hurt to ask," He thought as he gazed at the wall containing [Name]'s artistic pieces. "Maybe it could help me understand their situation..'
