Heart Of Fire; Veins Of Ice | Kimetsu No Yaiba Fanfic (Kyojurou's POV)

72

A/N: I am an idiot. Can't believe I forgot to put in a crucial part but here it is. 

The door opens, as Masahiko steps in. Kyojuro looks up at him, relieved, as uncertainty coiled itself around his gut.

The door closes, but he doesn't hear the sound of a lock. He wonders if there's a guard outside the room. Also how there was a steel vault of prison within the house. The need to get out of the room was getting to his nerves. He needed activity, and he couldn't just sit still and stay in the same place the entire day.

Especially not with her in the same room as him.

Masahiko slowly pulls up the chair next to him, and he placed his hands together on his lap as he seemingly turns to look at him. There's an air of hesitance, and necessity about what he was going to say, and the fact that his body seemed to speak of it, with stiff shoulders, a firm neutral look on his lips, there was something important.

"Kyojuro-kun, I think I owe you a lot of explanations," He begins, as Kyojuro looks at him. Explanations? What for? It should be the other way around, in which he himself owed the blindfolded man his past, which he couldn't even remember all that clearly now, as well as reasons for his behaviour and striking out at the others. A cold hand grips his throat, as if forcing him to shut up and listen.

Listen Carefully.

"You need to leave." Kyojuro flinches at that statement, but he expected it a long time coming now. He was never welcome, and never would be. Being a demon, all he would bring was blood and madness.

"Not for us, but for your own safety. I'll explain," Masahiko speaks as he pours him a glass of water, and hands it over to him. His own safety? He understood that yes, there was a high chance in which he could be killed, but, he deserved it, in a way.

He accepts the cup from Masahiko, and takes a sip from it.

The water tastes painfully plain.

Masahiko holds his hand and takes back the cup. This time, he pours another glass of water and uses a needle to prick his finger. Kyojuro watches with morbid fascination as the drop of blood lands in the glass of clear water, hitting the surface and dispersing in wisps into the water, like smoke in the wind, before it diffuses throughout the liquid.

Masahiko hands the glass back to him.

"I suppose this is the first time you've seen me do it. Please drink it, even if you don't want to," Masahiko's voice is tinged with a hint of sadness. Kyojuro takes the cup from him, as he gazed into the still clear liquid, and takes a sip.

It was sweet. So, so sweet, and it was a familiar sweetness, from when he had drank all the water from the jug all those times in the cabin up in the mountain, a sweetness after he had harmed himself to regain the ability to walk, and it staved off his hunger.

Because he was giving in to it.

He slams the cup back down on the table, as the cup cracks and the water spills out from it and onto the marble floor beneath the bed.

"Why?" Kyojuro chokes out, as anger flowed through his veins like molten lava, but it seemingly extinguished itself before it could consume the clarity of his own mind. It was as if his anger was being frozen and halted by an icy wall.

"You were not going to survive without it. I know I should have told you earlier, but you were hurting back then as well. When I found you, you were dressed in the clothing of your corps, yes I understood that you were from the Demon Slaying Corps. Your eye was gouged out, left arm smashed an pulverised into a bag of skin and mush, and your right arm was barely attached to your body." Kyojuro listens, because he needs to know. Masahiko pauses, as he rings the bells and manages to pick up the shards of glass of the broken cup. This time, Masahiko was telling him everything.