#neutral aura suddenly has black clouds and thunder around them

[toestalucia]

if u told me theyd keep mentioning the zombie outbreak in events....

[todoroki-waifu]

Tanjiro x GN!Reader x Murata (one sided) 

Final: Tanjiro x Reader

Scenario: Murata asks Tanjiro to help him get to know the reader better. He specifically wants Tanjiro to find out if they’re single and their likes/dislikes. Of course, being the nice friend he is, Tanjiro agrees; however, he didn’t expect to fall in love with the reader as well.  

Word Count: 6518

Genre: Slight angst, drama, and fluff. 

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, cursing, love triangle, and some mentions of blood. 

“I can’t believe I’m tired already and we still have the rest of the afternoon. I hope I can make it.” You pout slightly, settling down on the outside porch of the Butterfly Estate. All the lower ranks were to train with the higher ranks and Pillars in order to prepare for the battle against Muzan. You and Tanjiro just finished training with Uzui, now waiting for the rest of your group to meet for lunch.

“I’m sure you can make it! You’re strong and I believe in you!” You slightly blushed at his words of encouragement, now feeling that you would regain your strength after your short break.

“Thanks, Tanjiro-kun.” You reply back as you look up at the sky, watching the clouds as you both sat there in silence. Tanjiro eyes you from the side, remembering his promise to Murata. He knew the boy wanted to know if you had a significant other, but it was hard for Tanjiro to bring it up. So he decided to start with smaller questions.

“Hey, __(y/n), I don’t think I ever asked you this but what’s your favorite color?” He asks and you turn your attention to him.

“You and your random questions. I hope you’re not collecting any data to use against me.” You laugh jokingly as he stutters slightly.

“O-of course not. I’d never do that to you. I-I’m genuinely curious.” Tanjiro hopes his cover isn’t blown.

“I’m just kidding. I know you won’t. Anyway, my favorite color is __(color).” And that simple question opened up a discussion of different topics. You noticed Tanjiro asking you random questions for the past two weeks, but figured he was just a curious guy. You actually enjoyed it since you loved his company. You met at Mount Natagumo and ended up seeing each other more often. The trio plus Nezuko basically added you to their group, seeing how frequently you were paired with them for missions. You didn’t mind. You got along well with them. 

“___(y/n)-chaaaan!” You hear a familiar thunder user’s voice. “Save meeee! I’m gonna diiiiie!”

You and Tanjiro turn your heads towards the entrance of the Butterfly mansion, the dark red head’s eyes widening slightly at how fast Zenitsu was running. Zenitsu was sprinting to you with wide arms, whining about how mean Sanemi was and how his tough training was killing him. Tanjiro reacts quickly, grabbing the front of your uniform and pulling you towards him. You froze at the sudden pull, your hands unconsciously latching onto Tanjiro’s chest. 

“Z-z-zenitsu!” He grabbed you just in time, watching the yellow orange haired male hug the air and fall beside you. “You have to be careful! You were running way too fast and could’ve hurt __(y/n)!" 

"But I’m going to diiiiie.” Zenitsu pouts as you hear Tanjiro scold him some more. Your heart was racing not only from being potentially tackled, but at how closely pressed you were to Tanjiro. He ignores Zenitsu’s complaints as he glances down at you, both his arms now encased around you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Y-yes, I’m fine. Thank you, T-tanjiro.” Your nerves were twisting and shaking, causing your voice to break during your sentence. Tanjiro couldn’t respond right away, his own heart racing at the proximity. He suddenly becomes aware of how __(color) and alluring your eyes were. 

The way you stared up at him, the way your lips were slightly parted, and how your hair frames your face; Tanjiro is only now appreciating your beauty. He felt a few degrees warmer as his breath was trapped in his lungs. He didn’t understand why his heart was pacing so quickly almost as if it was chasing something… or someone? 

“I-I-I’m so sorry!” He immediately releases you from his hold as he scoots back a bit as if to return your space. “I didn’t mean to just grab you like that. That was so rude of me, I truly apologize!”

Before he could bow, you held onto his shoulders, reassuring him that you were just fine.

“Don’t be silly! I’m glad you did that. Otherwise, I might’ve bumped heads with Zenitsu-kun or he might have squished me." 

Tanjiro laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he hears Inosuke and Murata at the entrance. Ah, and that was another thing you noticed lately. Murata has been hanging out with your group a bit more often than usual. You assumed he probably felt like he wanted to connect more with all of you or that maybe his circle of friends were split up during training sessions. 

"Hi Inosuke-kun, Murata-kun.” You greet the boys with a smile and wave.

“The great Inosuke-sama has completed his training! Now I’m hungry… let’s get food!" 

"H-h-hi, __(y/n)-chan! How was your morning?” Murata instantly blushes at your smile, butterflies swarming in his stomach. 

“We should go see if Aoi-san needs any help! C'mon, guys.” Tanjiro gets behind Zenitsu and Insouke, pushing them to the kitchen area.

“We should go, too.” You tell Murata, but Tanjiro stops the both of you.

“It’s okay! We’ll be quick. We’ll come back if we’re not needed. You guys just…just stay there!” He immediately rushes his two friends as you tilt your head to the side slightly.

————————————

“Why are we hiding? I thought we were going to the kitchen?” Inosuke grumbles with his arms crossed.

“Oh, good! They’re talking.” Tanjiro lets out a small sigh, peeking out the window, careful to not be seen. He stopped pushing the boys once he was at a safe distance from you, checking if Murata was taking the opportunity he had given him. 

“He still hasn’t confessed?” Zenitsu knew about Murata’s dilemma, surprised that the black haired boy still made no move. “If it was me, I would’ve just asked ___(y/n) to be mine." 

"You already do.” The flame and water user rolls his eyes. “Murata-san is just really nervous. He wants to make sure he confesses to them properly." 

Zenitsu eyes his friend in the green and black checkered haori, blinking curiously when he notices Tanjiro’s gaze focused on you. When your laughter echoed in the courtyard, his sensitive ears picked up the quickening rate of Tanjiro’s heartbeat. Before he could question, Aoi found them lounging in the middle of the hallway, scolding them to hurry into the lunch room. 

That night, the three boys were getting ready for bed, laying out their futons on the floor. 

"You stupid boar, move your futon! That is MY spot!” Zenitsu yells, glaring at the mountain boy who laid right in the middle of the room. 

“No it’s not! It’s mine!” Inosuke grabs his pillow, ready to defend his territory.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping closest to the door! And you’re not even lined up properly!” Zenitsu was starting to get cranky, tried from today’s training and the dreadful feeling of knowing he had to do it all over again. 

Tanjiro ignores the bickering, concerned about his missing sister. He hasn’t seen her since dinner and she was usually with them around this time. She wasn’t one to wander either. He gets up from the floor, neglecting his half folded bed to search for his younger sibling. 

“Nezuko!” He calls out to her, careful with how loud his voice was so he wouldn’t disturb the other Butterfly residents. Tanjiro stops momentarily, picking up a sweet and joyful scent. It made his entire being warm with happiness, a smile slowly stretching his lips. He even felt like laughing, but held back the idea when his eyes caught two familiar beings. 

There you were, in the middle of the courtyard with his sister, jumping and spinning wildly. The two of you were dancing in the rain, giggling at each other’s movements. Nezuko noted a huge puddle forming to her left and immediately bounced both her feet into the water, creating a small series of waves around her legs. 

She made a noise to catch your attention, grabbing your hand as she pointed to another puddle. She stops in front of it, never letting go of your hand while she looks at you then to the water then back at you. The hand holding yours begins to slightly swing as if readying the both of you to dive into the miniature pond. You nodded, agreeing with her proposal and counted to three so that you both leaped at the same time. 

Nezuko cheers happily against her bamboo muzzle, raising her arms in excitement as you laugh, also holding your arms up. Your arms were stretched out horizontally, spinning around a few times and stopping just before you felt dizzy. Nezuko continues to hop into every puddle she sees as you stand for a moment in the rain, tilting your head up and allowing the water to wash over you. 

————————————

“Where is everyone?” Zenitsu realized that he was left alone with Inosuke, wondering where their third member went. As he passed by a few rooms in search of Tanjiro, he didn’t see you or Nezuko either. The yellow and orange haired male can hear a sequence of loud thumps, his feet following the sound until he finally reaches its source. 

“Tanjiro?” He says quietly, catching his friend standing on the engawa and looking out to the open space. Zenitsu’s eyes quickly traced to what had him so entranced. He finds you standing there, head slightly tilted back as you continue to be doused with water. You gave off a relaxed aura as you breathed in and out deeply. And there was Nezuko in the back, busying herself with the multiple puddles littering the courtyard. Even Zenitsu’s heart did a small jump at the sight of the warm scene before him. 

“What are they doing? Are they training?” Inosuke’s rough voice makes Zenitsu jump in surprise.

“What? No! They’re just play-”

“I’m gonna fight them! Let’s fight!!” He roars loudly as he zips towards you and Nezuko, causing the both of you to yelp in surprise.

“I-inosuke! Stop! Be careful!” Tanjiro is finally released from his daze, stepping down from the porch to stop Inosuke from chasing after you and his sister.

“You dumbass! Why are you bothering my sweet Nezuko and __(y/n)?” Zenitsu joins the spinning circle. 

————————————

“Gah!” Tanjiro accidentally slips on the wet ground during the chase and you quickly rush to his aid. Tanjiro’s fall momentarily stops everyone from running while Zenitsu immediately appears next to Nezuko, checking to see if she was okay and of course, complimenting how cute she was. 

“Are you okay?” You hold out a hand for Tanjiro to use as a leverage off the floor. 

“Yeah, I am. Thanks. I managed to break my fall a bit so I didn’t land too hard on the ground.” He takes your hand, accepting your help as he is finally on his feet. 

“I’m sorry about us playing in the rain. I didn’t mean for us to be out too late. And I also didn’t mean for Nezuko to get so soaked.” You hoped he wasn’t too upset with you for allowing Nezuko to be out in this type of weather. You were outside first and all of sudden, Nezuko appeared and begged you to let her join you. How could you say no? 

“I-it’s okay! No worries at all! I’m just glad you guys are okay. It was really nice of you for letting my sister play with you. I could tell she was having a great time, so, thank you for making her happy." 

"It’s no problem at all. I love your little sister. She’s wonderful to be around with.” You look to where the others were, smiling as you see Nezuko returning to her original task with Inosuke competing with her on who can make the biggest splash and Zenitsu telling him to let Nezuko be. 

Tanjiro stays silent as his gaze is focused on you again. You note his lack of words and you turn your head to the burgundy haired slayer, tilting your head at his staring. His eyes take in your cute and confused form, your drenched hair adhering to your face closely.  Before you could question his silence, the rain came down harder. 

“Oh wow, I thought it would stop soon.” You say as you find Tanjiro’s hair now falling to the front, almost blocking his beautiful, deep magenta eyes. You raise your hand up to his face, using your fingers to comb his hair back and securing them behind his ears. You smile once you get a clear view of his eyes, the boy’s cheeks burning a bright red. 

“There, now I can see your pretty eyes better.” You tease as Tanjiro’s face glows brighter. 

————————————

Ba-dum. 

‘There it is again.’ Zenitsu turns his attention to the two of you. 

Ba-dum.

The rhythm starts to get faster again.

Boom. 

’Now he’s making a different sound.’

Boom.

'Why does it sound like it’s getting closer?' Zenitsu frowns at the change of tone, trying to decipher the sound.

Crraakk! 

“Kyyaahh!” Zenitsu screeches at the new sound, recognizing it as thunder. A flash follows the rumbling, Zenitsu immediately recalling the time he had a very close encounter with lightning. He clings onto Nezuko, big tears dripping down his face as he now begs for everyone to go inside. Nezuko blinks at her frightened friend, patting his head gently as she is reminded of when Ryouta used to cry during thunderstorms. 

“I’m not afraid of any storm! Come fight me, thunder!” Inosuke shouts to the sky. The loud clap forced you and Tanjiro to gather the rest of the group inside, finally getting yourselves settled for the night. As Tanjiro lays on his futon, staring up at the ceiling, he thinks back to where you were dancing in the rain. 

You looked so beautiful spinning around so carefree and happy. He remembers your fingers adjusting his hair to its usual style and how you light and gentle your touch was when he felt it graze against his cheek and ear. Your touch and gaze sent a chill up his spine while his heart began beating against his chest. He quickly changes his position, laying on his side as he tries to focus on sleeping.

————————————

A few weeks pass and it has been the same between you and Tanjiro. Him asking questions or simply sitting beside you either on the engawa or in the middle of the forest during breaktime from training. It was something he looked forward to everyday. When you went out on a mission, he became slightly distracted and a bit more mellow for those three days you were gone. However, when he learns of your return, his demeanor is suddenly lifted.

That is until he hears you’re admitted to the Butterfly Estate for a head injury.

“Tanjiro!” He turns around to the source of the voice, recognizing Murata as the one calling him. 

“Hey man! Good thing I caught you. I need you to give this to __(y/n), please. I’d give it myself, but I feel a bit guilty since I was on the mission with them. I got too distracted by the enemy and I wasn’t there when they needed me. But anyway, please tell __(y/n) that I’ll see them later. I have to give the report to Oyakata-sama.” Murata hands him a small bouquet of flowers, turning towards their master’s home. 

“Wait! But…is __(y/n) okay?” Tanjiro was worried about your current state.

“Yeah, they’re fine. When the medics came, they said it was a minor concussion, but they still needed to be admitted and monitored. Anyway, I really gotta go. Thanks again, Tanjiro!”

“Y-yeah. You’re welcome! Good luck!” He tells Murata as he stares down at the flowers. Tanjiro also starts to feel guilty for not presenting a gift and feels slightly inferior to Murata. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, almost forgetting his secret mission. He wasn’t supposed to feel competitive towards his friend. He promised Murata to help his feelings reach you. 

————————————

“Tanjiro-kun!” You beamed at him, your heart happily leaping that he is your first guest and the sight of flowers in his hands. You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to look too gleeful at the assumption that the bouquet was for you. 

“__(y/n)! I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry to hear about your concussion. Is it painful?” Tanjiro continues to eye your bandage. 

“I had a massive headache earlier, but I got some medicine from Aoi-chan, so, it’s much better now." 

"That’s good.” He almost forgets that he is still holding the flowers. “These are for you." 

"Aw, Tanjiro, thank you! These are so nice.” You gladly accept them, inspecting and admiring the flowers’ beauty. 

“They’re actually from Murata-san. He was really worried about you and wanted you to have these. He wanted to give them to you right away, but he said he has to meet with Oyakata-sama." 

"O-oh! I see. I have to thank him later.” You were both surprised and disappointed that it didn’t come from Tanjiro, but you were still grateful for the small gesture. You just wished it was from the boy who you had a crush on. “Well, thank you for delivering them." 

Did Tanjiro only visit to give you the flowers as instructed? You thought he was here on his own and that he was truly concerned. Maybe he was, but it did seem as if he was here only for Murata.

"You’re welcome. So, what exactly happened on your mission?” He starts the conversation, but suddenly, you’re not in the mood for visitors at the moment. Yet part of you doesn’t want him to go away. 

Before you answer, it was as if someone else decided for you and a knock was heard following the sound of the door opening. It was Aoi with a small tray of tea, medication, and bandages. 

“Sorry, Tanjiro, but __(y/n) needs their treatment and rest. You can visit them later." 

"Oh, right. Sorry about that.” Tanjiro stands up, putting his chair aside as he smiles at you. “I’ll see you later? I hope you feel better soon." 

"Thanks, Tanjiro. See you later.” You wave a hand to him before he exits the room. 

That evening, Murata had visited you as promised, updating you on what had happened before you lost consciousness during the mission. He apologizes repeatedly, even getting on the floor to show how guilty he felt for not protecting you. You reassure him it was okay and that you were not mad at all.

Then the conversation turns into a very different subject. Murata begins to confess his feelings to you and how he had asked Tanjiro to help him scout information on you. Murata tells you everything, again feeling guilty for using Tanjiro as a middle person instead of him going directly to you. He was too shy and afraid of your reaction and thought that the plan in his mind would work out. 

However, cupid’s arrow decided to go a different route and Murata knew to not stand in its way. Another reason why he decided to bring this up now was due to his curiosity. Though he knew his chances of being with you was low, he knew he’d regret it if he never asked. 

Unfortunately for him, his assumptions were right. You couldn’t return his feelings, but he was happy you weren’t too upset at him for what he did. He also begged you to not be angry at Tanjiro, solely taking the blame on himself. You again reassured him that all was well and that you were not upset at anyone. Instead you apologized that you couldn’t reciprocate his feelings.

Once the awkward tension disappears, you’re glad that you still have a friend. You have a quick and light conversation with him and before he leaves for the night, you make sure to thank him for the flowers. Once you’re alone, you sigh loudly to yourself, slightly shocked at what you learned.

Tanjiro was only talking to you for Murata and not because he wanted to get to know you. You knew you couldn’t be angry at anyone, but you definitely felt different with Tanjiro. You’re so upset that your crush didn’t want to get close to you willingly. You sigh again, mentally yelling at yourself to not think so much about it and that it was to be expected that Tanjiro might not feel the same as you. But that thought definitely made small cracks in your heart. 

————————————

“What? You told __(y/n) everything?!” Tanjiro exclaims, surprised at Murata’s bold move. He was so frightened to even talk to you yet here he was telling Tanjiro that he finally confessed to you.

“Yeah, I did. I felt too guilty and it was definitely wrong of me to make you be the middleman. I should’ve had more courage in the beginning instead of involving you. So, I’m really sorry for the trouble." 

"It’s no trouble at all. I’m not upset. I’m just shocked you told them the truth. Were they mad?" 

"No, not one bit. __(y/n) actually apologized that they didn’t like me back, but I told them it was okay. We’re still friends, but I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t suck.”

“I’m really sorry about that, Murata-san.” Tanjiro places a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s fine. I mean, I had a feeling it wouldn’t work out, but hey, I think you have a good chance with them!" 

"Me? What makes you say that?” Tanjiro blushes at the mention of you and him potentially being lovers.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest with you, another reason why I decided to tell __(y/n) the truth was I started to notice something. The way you look at them and when you talk about them, your facial expression and tone become different. And different in a good way. You get super excited and happy, which isn’t a bad thing! But that means you totally have a thing for __(y/n), right? And I’m not gonna be mad or jealous at all. If anything, you guys have my blessing! I can see how much you really care for ___(y/n) and I don’t think I’m the right match for them.”

“Hold on, now I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to take them away from you. I hope I didn’t seem that way.” Tanjiro frowns, confused at Murata’s sudden disinterest in pursuing you. He really had every intention of helping his friend!

“God no! I know you’re not that type. I’m just saying, the way you look at __(y/n) and the way they look at you…there’s definitely something there and I’m not gonna get in between that." 

"Y-you really think so?" 

"It is so obvious, even the other three know it.” Murata was referring to Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko. They bid each other good night after a while, the Kamado boy smiling to himself as he felt relieved that he didn’t have to play matchmaker anymore. It also felt good to finally admit his feelings for you to himself. 

————————————

You were off of bedrest for a while, but decided to avoid the Kamaboko group for a bit. You were confused and conflicted after Murata’s confession and decided you wanted to either be by yourself or with a different group of friends such as Genya and Kanao. You were glad that this week you were paired with Genya for training, but trying to start conversations with him wasn’t the same. He either didn’t say much or he froze up.  

While you were on break from training, you decided to sit out on the engawa where you and Tanjiro usually sat at the Butterfly Mansion. You shook your head to clear your mind of the memory, focusing on meditating and total concentration breathing. You and Tanjiro were in different groups so you had assumed your breaks wouldn’t overlap. 

“___(y/n)!” Ah, what timing. Normally, you’d love to spend time with Tanjiro, but you were so disappointed that it hurt to think about him.

“Hey, Tanjiro.” You smile slightly as you stand to greet him.

“It’s been a while. How is your head?” 

“Much better. I’m all healed up and was cleared to practice my sword and techniques.” You tried to be polite, but deep down, you just wanted to leave.

“That’s good. I heard you’re in a different group this week. How has it been? Are they treating you well? We all miss you, you know. Me, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko.” 

“Tanjiro…you know, you don’t have to keep hanging out with me.” You felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t get the burden off your chest.

“What do you mean?” Tanjiro frowned, shocked at your response. 

“Murata-kun told me everything. From how he likes me to how you tried to help him. I’m not mad, I’m just a bit surprised.“ You avoided looking at him, your eyes moving from the clouds, trees, and the ground. "So, you don’t have to force yourself to spend time with me anymore. I know you have a busy schedule so I wouldn’t want to take that away from you. We can still hang out, like all four of us when we have a bit of extra time, but you know. . .you don’t have to go out of your way to get to know me anymore either. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you didn’t want to." 

Why did it hurt so much telling him that? If he was only being around you for the sake of his friend, that wouldn’t be fair to him. You didn’t want to be selfish, but not seeing him as often as usual was going to be a bit. . .lonely. 

"But __(y/n), it’s reall-" 

"Tanjiro, really, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m not mad or upset. But anyway, I actually have to go. . .so. . .see you around.” You bowed your head slightly at the male before walking towards the exit, telling your heart to be strong and to not let your emotions on display. You didn’t want Tanjiro to feel like he had to comfort you. You were done getting your hopes up. 

“Wait!” Tanjiro was too slow to respond, too stunned and panicked to get his thoughts organized. You were already gone, but Tanjiro caught a scent of sadness from you before you left. He could feel his heart unhappily thump against his ribcage, causing a small pain as his eyes watered more than usual. 

————————————

The rest of the day and the next week was difficult for both of you. You were used to the routine of spending a few minutes of alone time, but now, your alone time was spent, well, alone. You tried to nap during down time, but it was hard without thinking about Tanjiro. 

The checkered haori slayer was the same, thinking about you and wondering how you were and if the both of you were going to have normal conversations again. He sighed, trying to speak with you, but was always interrupted either by you saying you had something to attend to or busy with missions and training. While Tanjiro thinks of a way to communicate with you, his thoughts are now directed towards his crow flying above him. 

“Caw! Caw! Kamado, Tanjiro! Here are your orders. Head to the Takayama village and hunt the two demons terrorizing the village. The two demons have raided the neighboring towns and continue to spread their chaos. You will be with a team of four, who you are to meet at the front gate now. Prepare yourself well! Caw!” The black bird flies away and Tanjiro gathers his belongings and Nezuko before heading to the meeting place. 

He sees you standing by the gate, bidding your ___(bird) farewell as it flies away. Once his footsteps catch your attention, you turn to greet the person. You freeze slightly, recognizing Tanjiro and you couldn’t believe your luck. Your heart was pounding and you were slightly nervous, remembering how awkward it was between the two of you.

“Hey, Tanjiro.” You politely greet him, giving him a small wave.

“Hey, __(y/n).” He replies back, stopping a good distance from you. His heart was also racing, feeling the tension swirling around you and him. But this was his chance! The rest of the group wasn’t here yet.

“__(y/n), I really need to talk to you. I know that we haven-" 

"Alright!! Let’s go kill some demons!" 

"Why do you look so happy?! Don’t you know we’re gonna die?” Zenitsu begrudgingly walks to the front gate with Inosuke in front of him. 

“Hah! As if! I’m gonna kill them first!” Inosuke replies back. 

“Oh, Inosuke-kun, Zenitsu-kun! It’s been a while since we’ve been on a mission together.” You mentally let out a sigh of relief, happy that you didn’t have to engage in an awkward conversation. Tanjiro frowns at the interruption, his heart growing a bit heavier as he can feel any hope of you two patching things up slowly disappearing.

The five of you head towards your destination, reaching near the village by nightfall. Most of the people in the town were hiding in their homes, not a single soul was out in the streets. They have heard rumors about their surrounding towns being attacked by demons and became frightened of becoming victims. 

“We should split up. If there are two demons, we can find them faster if we’re separated.” Tanjiro suggests.

“I can look for them by myself!” Inosuke unsheathes his swords. 

“No, you won’t. Don’t underestimate them, Inosuke. Your safety comes first, not competing on who can kill who faster.” Tanjiro advises as the boar man stares at him with a giddy expression. “Anyway, I’ll go with Inosuke. Zenitsu, you go with __(y/n)." 

You were a bit surprised he didn’t try to pair himself with you, but you figured now wasn’t the time to ponder too deeply into it. The four of you head into the woods, splitting into different directions with your partners. 

————————————

Zenitsu screams loudly as a figure shoots out from above, attempting to pounce on you both. 

"Perfect! I’ll be ahead of the game once I eat you two.” He shouts, opening his mouth wide to dip his fangs into your flesh. Zenitsu runs behind a tree, trembling in fear while you go to swipe at the demon’s face. He immediately dodges your swing, but quickly attacks again. 

You learn that the demon was competing with the second one and they were playing a sick game on who could consume the most by the end of the night. Because of how much he’s been eating consistently almost every night, his strength was difficult to handle. 

Zenitsu watches in horror as the demon slashes at your back and arm, soaking your uniform with blood. After exchanging a few blows, you and the enemy are pushed back onto the ground, just a few feet apart. Your partner whimpers loudly when the monster crawls to you and grabs your ankle tightly, his sharp nails puncturing through your skin and muscle. He roughly lifts you up, spinning you a few times before throwing you against the tree the thunder user was hiding behind. 

“You’re next.” He laughs, slowly walking towards Zenitsu and you as you momentarily lose consciousness. 

“__(y/n)!” Zenitsu is by your side, panicking at the damage you received. He scolds himself for not participating in the fight and thinks how lucky he was to have a friend like you to tolerate his cowardly behavior. He also thinks of Tanjiro, knowing he would be so disappointed and angry to allow you to get hurt. 

“Run, Zenitsu. . .” You knew how hard this was for him. “I got thi. . .I’ll catch up, I promise.” You struggled to get up, but your injured ankle sends a sharp pain up your leg and through your spine, causing you to momentarily be paralyzed. You calmed yourself, readjusting to the pain. You look at Zenitsu, telling him again to hurry and leave.

“I. . .I won’t!” He refuses as he unsheathes his sword, blocking the demon’s attack. You argue back that you could handle the demon by yourself and you’ll find him once you are finished. 

“Zenitsu, listen to me! I told you I got-”

“No, __(y/n)! I can’t just leave you! I won’t let the person who Tanjiro loves die! He’ll be heartbroken if you’re gone. I don’t want him or any of us to go through that!”

“T-t-tanjiro. . .loves me?” You stare at him with wide eyes, shocked and in disbelief at the indirect confession. "Wait. . .what? Why? And how? How do you know he loves me? Did he tell you?“ 

"He didn’t have to tell me! I could tell by his sound. . .there’s this noise his heart makes and it’s been there for a while and it gets stronger everyday!" Zenitsu explains quickly as he runs away from the demon’s attacks. 

"Are you sure? Like are you really sure?” Your heart was pounding quickly but it wasn’t from the battle. 

“Yes! Of course! He’s been falling for you since the beginning but he was holding himself back to give you away to Murata because Tanjiro knew that Murata had feelings for you!" 

"Really? Does Tanjiro still have the noise? Do I have the noise? Does Inosuke and Nezuko know about this, too?”

“Should we really be talking about this right now!?” He screeches, becoming distracted by your torrent of questions as he almost misses blocking a set of sharp claws. You apologize quickly, forcing yourself to stand up and refocus on your mission. 

However, as soon as you stood up, Zenitsu was thrown to you, knocking you to the floor once again. The demon charges to your direction, licking his lips in anticipation. Before you could switch spots with your partner to take the blow for him, a third person emerges from the trees. 

“Found you!” Inosuke yells, but his twin swords miss your assailant. “Huh? You’re not the demon we were just fighting.”

“__(y/n)! Zenitsu!” You turn your head to Tanjiro’s voice and frown at the injuries on his person. Taking a deep breath, you concentrated your energy and mentality on the battle. You thought of multiple moves and plans to secure victory, sharing your ideas with the others. The second demon that Inosuke and Tanjiro were targeting found them, but instead of teaming up with his competition, their greed cost them. 

They argued constantly on who was going to eat who, which you and the others took advantage of whenever their attention was elsewhere. It definitely was not easy defeating the two, but it made things easier with your team. It took hours to defeat them which left you all panting on the floor from exhaustion, but you were grateful for another successful mission. 

————————————

You were the first to recover during your three day stay at the Butterfly Estate. Thankfully, your injuries were only mild, but the other three were recovering a bit slower than you. You were okay to return for training and missions tomorrow so you were planning on making the best out of the rest of your day.

“May I sit here?” You look to your left to see Tanjiro standing a few feet away from you.

“Oh! Hey Tanjiro, did Shinobu-san medically clear you also?” You gently pat the empty seat beside you, indicating for him to take the spot beside you.

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago.” He answers as he situates himself on the engawa. 

“That’s good. Now we wait for Inosuke and Zenitsu." 

"Yeah.” Tanjiro says softly, looking at the ground in front of him. He doesn’t wait too long to give you the opportunity to leave like before, needing to release the heaviness on his chest.

“I-I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” The burgundy haired slayer shouts suddenly, almost scaring you from the sudden burst of noise. “I know you’re upset with me because of what happened with Murata. I’m sure you must have felt angry and sad and you kept that to yourself all this time just to spare my and Murata’s feelings. You went through a lot because of my carelessness. I shouldn’t have agreed to help Murata-san had I known I was going to fall for you, too. But __(y/n), you’re wonderful. You’re kind, sweet, selfless, strong, funny, beautiful, and you make me feel so. . .so happy. So please, please know that I don’t regret or feel that the time I spent with you was a waste. I loved every second of it. It was the best part of my day and I always looked forward to it. I’m really sorry, __(y/n). I know I don’t expect you to forgive me right away or not be upset, but I miss you so much. I miss your company. I miss laughing with you. I miss sharing memories and secrets with each other. I just miss us being okay." 

You gently lift his shoulders from the ground after watching him bow lowly to you. 

"Tanjiro, of course I forgive you. I was never going to stop talking to you. I just wanted some time for myself. I know I might have seemed upset at you, but I was more upset about the situation." Your chest has a tiny knot from hearing him express how he felt. "I can’t be mad at you if you didn’t have feelings for me and wanted to help Murata. I was just confused and felt extremely dumb because I liked you, but when he told me everything, well I definitely felt embarrassed and disappointed.”

“I’m really, really sorry, __(y/n).” His heart would have done a happy leap when you mentioned your feelings for him. Instead, he was thinking of all the 'what ifs’ scenarios. Would things be different if he admitted his feelings earlier?

“Do you regret. . .falling for me?” You ask quietly, afraid of his answer, but curiosity would not let you hold back. 

“No, not at all! Never! I’m glad that my heart chose you. I just wish the situation could have been different. But like I said, I truly enjoyed getting to know you.”

“I enjoyed your company and your 21 questions.” You chuckle slightly. “Do you still have feelings for me?" 

"Y-yes, I do. They haven’t gone away.” Tanjiro looks down shyly, but his head shoots up quickly when he feels a pair of soft lips make quick contact with his own. 

“Me, too.” You send a small smile, scooting a bit closer to him. Although the kiss was short, he was left speechless, almost as if he was questioning if it truly happened. You start to get a bit nervous at his silence, looking at Tanjiro meekly. He responds back with a swift peck on your lips as well, both of your faces now painted with red. 

When you both finally have the courage to face each other, you share a laugh as you feel confident enough to snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, snaking your arms around his. He, too, is feeling bold as the arm that was being held takes your hand and holds it firmly. You and Tanjiro say nothing, letting your hearts do the talking with the sound of their beating. 

[jimlingss]

Worshipers of the Soul

Part of the Worshipers Series

➜ Words: 5.4k

➜ Genres: 95% Angst, 4% Fluff, 1% Smut, God!AU

➜ Summary: The King of the Underworld was denounced and exiled from Heaven as a god. But with your help, he may rise to power once more and claim his rightful throne.

The god is forced onto his knees.   The marble floor is cold and hard, but never for a moment does the God of the Underworld appear weak. He lifts his head, gaze steadfast even when he is at the feet of the council.   “Namjoon, you are arrogant,” the God of Sun says from his seat, the highest throne of the entire room. His low voice thunders across the sky, thrumming all around the land as he announces his sentence. “Unlike the Goddess of Spring, you show no remorse for your actions. I have known of your contempt and insolence for long, but your hubris has exceeded that of all gods. Even now when you have lost and must beg for mercy and forgiveness, you choose silence.”   It is a sad day in Heaven for a god like him to be in this position. A shame of how ignorant the other gods are for choosing to follow a weaker leader when he could lead them to glory. Truly, the universe was meant to cry for this disgrace and dishonour.   Namjoon’s eyes stray around the council to his wife who remains impassive, looking down at him. Of all gods, she was the most foolish — for choosing the God of Sun’s leadership and not recognizing her own husband’s true strengths. Had she been his dutiful wife, he would not be in this place.   The silence is held in the room.    The God of the Underworld makes no defence, makes no pleads nor begs for mercy.   Seokjin sighs and stands on his feet, making his final declaration and his timbre echoes throughout the space. “For the devastation and destruction you have caused in this needless war, I hereby denounce you from the council and your position as a divine being.”    Namjoon’s eyes widen in mortification, yet the God of Sun does not cease.    “You will spend the rest of your eternity atoning for your sins, but you will not be doing it here. You are exiled from Heaven, never to step foot into this paradise again effective immediately. You are no longer the God of the Underworld.”   The guards grab hold on his limbs but he easily wards them off, rising to his feet. “It is not me who has more hubris than the gods. You, Seokjin! Everything was caused because of you! How dare you take away something that is rightfully a god’s! What audacity do you have?!”   One of the council members lift their hands and a violent wind bursts forth, forcibly pushing him out of the room against his will. But still he shouts and makes his last curses for all of Heaven to hear—   “I will return! And someday it is you who will be begging for forgiveness!”

There is nothing.   You are the essence of neutrality. Neither pain nor comfort has reached you, nor sorrow or anger. It is a calm serenity that has enveloped you, impartiality that makes it easy to mindlessly float in the empty area. You wander aimlessly, without a destination or goal, without motivation or discouragement.   It simply is.   But then you drift into the wrong place at the wrong time.   A figure stands from afar, his presence forcibly holding you in place before you can stray without thought. He wears blackened robes, the tulle layer on top decorated with white chrysanthemum flower patterns. His hair is ebony, eyes even darker and his brows are furrowed deep as if it has become his common expression. He stands with his shoulders wide, facing you while his arms are placed behind his back. His aura is intimidating and commanding — it holds you from leaving and puts you in a trance.   “Are you discontented?”   His voice resonates and you manifest yourself into a tangible form, body translucent and flickering like a flame or rising smoke, never quite rooted.    You blink at him.    The corner of the man’s mouth quirks and his hand raises towards you. Suddenly, the fog clears from your mind. It lifts and your thoughts become grounded and traceable. But with the ignorance gone, the feeling of neutrality billows away from you.   For the first time, you get to truly look around and take in your surroundings.   The land is barren and desolate, without warmth or presence. The darkness seems to consume all that is in its wake, shadows that murmur and giggle, bare trees with branches that twist in odd directions. And the horizon is blanketed in black, but something round at the top that glows, providing the smallest amount of luminescence.   You know you’ve been here for a long time. But you’re not sure how long exactly — you can’t seem to recall anything aside from your name.   “Who are you?”   The figure smirks, his chin lifting as he proudly announces himself— “I am the King of the Underworld, Namjoon. I lead the souls that wander, the mortals that have long perished, the beck and call of Death itself. I give and take the sins that corrupt your being. And I have chosen to grant you with clarity of mind. Fall on your knees, beg for mercy and I will lead you to glory!”   Not knowing what else to do, you obey.   Your knees meet the ground and Namjoon smirks yet again.    The King approaches you in three large strides and tilts your chin up with his forefinger, allowing your neck to snap back to gaze upon him. His lips curl and he leans in, eyes laid on your mouth.    But before his lips can graze against yours, you instinctively lean away from him. Instead, you blink and stare blankly — unable to understand what his intentions are.   He halts, seemingly caught off guard with how you moved away as if he didn’t expect you to resist, but then he, too, shifts. The King stands back, facing the bleak oblivion with amusement evident on his features. “You are naive and because I pity your ignorance, I will grant you the gift of becoming my servant as you have no other purpose. If you refuse, your mind will be clouded again and you will waste away as you have.”   You say nothing, merely stumbling to your feet again.   “Where am I?”   “The Underworld,” he says simply. “You were human once. This is where you go after death. If you’re not in perpetual pain, it must mean you lived a decent enough life and you’ve been judged that way.”   In spite of what he tells you, you don’t remember your life. You can’t recall anything about it. All you’ve known is obliviously wayfaring.   Namjoon doesn’t allow you to dwell. He leads you away and you follow closely behind without a word. And the two of you come to the highest point of the Underworld. It’s a cliffside and he looks over the devoid abyss, the trees without leaves or flowers, the creeping darkness.   “Isn’t it beautiful?”   The King of the Dead takes a seat on the throne beside him, a single chair on the dry dirt. He seems to enjoy the view — but you don’t think this place has much to offer.   “You’re quiet,” Namjoon comments carelessly. “More than the others.”   You remain silent, contemplating that there’s been others like you.   The King turns his head to you, eyes dark. “What are you thinking about?”   “I’m wondering if this is where you reside,” you say, exposing your mind so he does not get angry being oblivious to your intentions and thoughts. “I’m pondering if you have a home.”   Namjoon scoffs lightly. “I don’t need one. You didn’t have a home while you were wandering, foolish girl. And there are no homes in the Underworld.”   You come to stand by his side, looking out at the desolate darkness.   //   There’s pitched, marbled moans and groans that echo all around — sounds of unrestrained pleasure that knows no dignity or shame.   You’ve turned away, trying to offer a sense of privacy. But it’s difficult when there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to cover yourself and you have to stay close. It doesn’t take long, however, and he’s soon joining you once more with a pleased expression.   “We can leave now.”   The King of the Underworld often fornicates with wandering souls, something you’ve learnt quickly. But you wonder for what purpose he does so and once you ask, he answers—   “It’s fun to corrupt minds and souls,” he plainly says, “and a satisfying pastime.”   You look over, peeking over your shoulder out of curiosity and you find the ghost gone. There’s no gliding orb of light, no translucent form drifting away. The soul he was copulated with has completely vanished.    “You’ve taken it,” the murmur befalls your lips without a second consideration when the realization has sunk into you.   The corner of Namjoon’s mouth quirks before he brushes past you. “You’re quick-witted, aren’t you? I’m glad I decided to keep you around.”   //   You’ve always aimlessly drifted, flitted and floated through the land, past trees and empty spaces permeated with pulsating darkness. You relished in the state of neutrality as you skimmed over the ground and rivers with no name. But Namjoon seems to know how to navigate this oblivion.    In the vast area that seems to stretch for eternity, he needs no map or directions told to him. He always knows where he’s going and how to come back. Never once does he frown, not knowing where to turn or which course to take. From the field of littered bones and skulls to the black river that runs through the Underworld and even back to the cliffside where his throne is.   Namjoon knows all. It is his domain — the back of his hand.   But it’s hard to learn from him, to conceive spatial awareness when all the darkness appears the same.   There was a time though…..a time you were sure you were not as lost as you are now.    A time when you did not pointlessly wander around the Underworld.    They feel like dreams — like memories of childhood, but much farther and faint. They’re the smoke of a flame, unable to be grasped fully and sometimes you doubt their true existence. Perhaps they are merely conceptions of your imaginations born from your new clarity of mind that knows boredom and seeks exhilaration. But you have dwelled on them.   And while you cannot discern faces or places, you know the ground you once stepped on wasn’t dry and cracked. It was green, a verdant shade, and soft beneath your feet. And the horizon was once azure and bright. Sometimes it was tangerine and rose-coloured, other times a darkening navy and maybe pitch black, but always with some kind of milky light piercing through to shed away the gloom…..   And you can recall fickle emotions.   Things other than neutrality tinged with contentment.   “This is the place I will raise my palace someday Y/N,” the King of the Underworld suddenly declares, removing you from your internal trance and pulling you away from thoughts.   Namjoon has his arms wide open in front of a creeping space with a few twisting trees occupying it. He may wear a satisfied and pompous expression, but you find it awfully dull.   “I thought you didn’t need a home.”   The tall figure turns to you and cocks a brow. “Every king needs a palace, foolish girl. Perhaps not a home, but a place to rule from.”   You watch him as he paces around the area as if envisioning the grand dwelling being assembled in front of him.   “There will be a hundred servants at my feet. My sacrifices will work on erecting my statues in the courtyard and in the garden. In my magnificent dining hall, there will be a hundred paintings of me on the wall, each from the different eons I have ruled in. And the doors to all of it will be right here. They will be imposing and will not open no matter how hard someone begs or screams.”   The King of the Underworld steps back and for a moment, you could see it too.   Blackened doors engraved with white chrysanthemums that would hurt your neck when you’d try to see the top, made of steel and iron so that your fists would bruise when you knock against it.    “How will you achieve it?” you ask, a murmur sounding from your lips.   “I will rise again, silly girl.” Namjoon twists on his heel, his arms behind his back and his shoulders broad. He faces the dark horizon as if there was something beautiful to see, something worthy to be proud of — even when there is really nothing. “I will make the gods pay for what they have done to me, for daring to exile the most powerful god in the universe.”   Your brows furrow. “They exiled you?”   “Because they were afraid of me.” The corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk and he faces you, eyes meeting yours. “But one day I will rise again — and if your loyalty remains, I will allow you a position in my court. I’m kind, aren’t I?” The King of the Underworld does not take your silence as a response. “You should be grateful I have spared you and didn’t consume your soul.”   Your head lowers. “Thank you.”   Namjoon smirks and you peek a glance at him past your lashes.   For such a domineering king, he is imaginative. Some might say, delusional. But you wonder what it is that made him lose his status and come here to such a sad, lonely place by himself.   //   The souls of the Underworld drift — unrestrained and without a planned destination. They are orbs of lights, some brighter and others dimmer, some that shine and others that glow, but all are able to take the shape of ghosts, of who they once were.   The bending, lazy river is filled with a dark and mysterious liquid. You’re unsure if it’s water and don’t dare to take a sip when you don’t need to, but you wouldn’t be surprised if some menacing beast was brewing underneath. Yet, that doesn’t deter you from leaning in and staring at your reflection.   You wonder if this is what you once looked like as a human.   If you had skin and hair and eyes like this….   Your head tilts to look at the horizon, something that resembles the moon hanging at the top, allowing you to see right in front of you but never farther. But hazily in your mind, you can stitch together an image of something else that was once above you — a rounded ceiling with paintings of yellow round spheres and pinpricks of twinkling sparkles, white bleeding into black, someone standing tall with a creature behind him in blazing glory. It is lucid in your eyes, something you can envision so clearly that it is almost real. Almost tangible.   A radiant place of white with marble and pillars — steps leading up to grand doors — golden letters etched into it.   But when you look back, blink a few times, the vision has dispelled away. The truth sinks in.   All you see is emptiness. A void of black.   Your eyes stray to Namjoon and your eyes soften at the way he’s fixing his sights on the surroundings with a proud smile.   “How do you plan to rise?” you ask quietly, joining his side as he strides through the trees.   “The souls I consume give me some power. Enough of them and I will be able to escape the Underworld and storm Heaven.”   “Then why don’t you consume my soul?”   “Because I know when to be gracious,” he declares with a smile, looking upon you. “You should be happy that I am merciful to you.”   Namjoon is indeed merciful. But he is not fair or just, and those are qualities a leader must have.   //   It’s uncertain how long you truly accompany Namjoon’s side for. All you know is that wherever he is, you are also there beside him. When he’s fornicating with souls, corrupting them to bring him pleasure and then consuming them after he’s finished, you’re there meters away with your back turned. When he’s bracing through the Underworld, traveling past the river and the desolate forests, you’ve become his shadow, trailing after his feet. And when he’s seated at his small throne by the cliffside, you’re standing next to him, staring out at the same sights.   You’ve come to realize that Namjoon didn’t suddenly take a liking to you and decided to spare you from his ambitions.   He is lonely. And he needed someone with him.   You don’t blame him — it is easy to go mad in this constant darkness. You only blame him for being too proud to admit his true intentions.   “You’re quiet.”   “I don’t have much to say.”   “But it looks like you have lots to think about.”   The smallest of smiles graces your features and you turn to him. “If I say something unbecoming to you, you’ll kill me.”   Namjoon bursts out laughing, the noise hearty and loud. It echoes around the spaces. “You can’t die again, silly girl. But don’t worry, you have nothing to fear. I have no plans of taking your soul as long as you continue to show me respect.”   You decide to grant his wish and speak to disrupt the eerie silence— “What is the living world like?”   “The moral realm? It’s full of lowly and greedy mortals who only know how to beg and destroy. They are selfish and ruin everything they touch. They’re not to be trusted,” he seethes and exhales. “When I rise to power, I will do what every god has been fearful of and liberate the universe from them. But…” Namjoon glances at you. “I suppose a few places are worthy to see.”   “Like what?”   “The mountains. Some oceans. They’re a glorious view where you can’t see where the land ends or begins. If you remain devoted to me, someday you may have the privilege of seeing them.”   You nod and the King of the Underworld continues, “I am leaving soon.”    “Where to?”   “It is none of your concern. If you fear abandonment, then you don’t need to.” After a moment, he softens. “I will return sooner than expected. I need to speak to an...old friend and reclaim what is rightfully mine.”   You nod once more, staying by his side as you look out at the dismal Underworld.

The grandiose black entrance parts, doors swinging open and then she’s sauntering into the vast throne room while rolling her shoulders while the train of her black robes sweep the floor behind her. “Sihyuk! I need a foot rub! Stop dilly dallying!”   He jolts and lowers his head. “Right away, your highness…”   “Gods, I’m so exhauste—” Her complaint morphs into a pitched shriek.   The Goddess of Dreams and Underworld stumbles back in startlement, a hand placed over her chest as her expression washes over into unadulterated terror.    But Namjoon merely smirks from the corner of the room, placing the white chrysanthemum flower back in its vase. “You haven’t changed one bit, Miyin, despite being reborn...twice now?”   The servant dwarf’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. His mouth opens and closes, knowing exactly who he is. “Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-your...r-r-royal highness…”   “Leave.” Miyin lifts her palm, dismissing Sihyuk and he swallows hard before running off. The goddess faces him, but keeps a wide distance between the both of them. Her chin lifts and her gaze steadies itself. “What are you doing here, Namjoon?”   It has been over a century since they’ve seen one another, since that time when he was denounced in front of the entire council, but Namjoon is not ignorant to the changes that were made. He knows she’s taken his place — that she’s become the Goddess of the Underworld.   “Do I need a reason?” he asks. “You should not be afraid of your husband visiting you.”   “You are no husband of mine,” she hisses and malice, and the shadows of the room seem to grow.   But the self-proclaimed King of the Underworld merely smiles. “I noticed the sword of the Immortal Being is gone.” The sword is the only weapon that can kill a god, that will help him achieve his glory once more. But when he came to find it and tore the palace apart to look for where it might be hidden, it had disappeared — much like during the war a hundred years ago.   He couldn’t find it then — and he can’t find it now.   “It’s no longer in the Underworld and it will never be,” Miyin spits and a smirk grows at her red lips, spine straightening with confidence. “You will never find the sword again. It will never be in your reach. I knew you would try to come back for it, so I’ve given it to the Controller of the Sky.”   Namjoon’s brows furrow. “There is no such thing.”   The Goddess of Dreams and Underworld laughs mockingly. “Things have changed since you’ve last been to Heaven, Namjoon. The weapon that you seek for your vengeance has been handed to a mortal sacrifice of the Goddess of the Sky that had been unjustly forsaken.” A fond smile graces her features. “He will use it to protect her.”   “You gave it to a mortal?!” Namjoon’s angered shout echoes throughout the throne room, resonating through the space until silence takes its place once more. His hands crumple and he shakes, enraged. “You are a fool for allowing the sword into another mortal’s hands!”   “And you are a fool for returning!” She challenges with equal malice. “For thinking you have a rightful place here!”    “I will come back and rule as I meant to,” he declares through gritted teeth, pointing at her with a finger that trembles from wrath. “I will become the god that I was meant to be!”   A muscle in Miyin’s cheek jumps. She outright scoffs at him and curses, “Your pride and greed will destroy you as the Immortal Being had destroyed himself! Leave! And never step foot here again and dare to face me! If you ignore my warnings, even Seokjin will not be able to help you if you beg for it! This is my oath.”    Yet again, he has been banished. And from a place he once called home.   The shadows creep from their corners, expanding in size to loom over his figure and grab hold of his limbs. But he has lived amongst them for long and won’t be pushed out so easily.   Namjoon dispels the shadows away like they are bugs and he shakes his head with his jaw clenched at the audacity she has to treat him with such disrespect. “You cannot control me, Miyin. I am still a god by blood and I choose how I come and go. If I leave, it will be of my own accord.”   With his last words spoken, he twists on his heel and marches out.   The palace doors shut behind him and the true Goddess of the Underworld is left quaking.   //   The sky is azure, the horizon wide with the sun beaming from the highest point. But as soon as she steps onto the lower part of Heaven, crossing the bridge and moving past the thick fog, darker clouds begin to fill the sky and the goddess comes into view with her arms crossed and a feigned pout on her lips.   “What are you doing here, Miyin?” the Goddess of Sky questions with her eyes playfully narrowed. Her servants nor her companion are seen by her side.   But Miyin doesn’t match the goddess’ lightheartedness. Her expression remains solemn and her brows furrowed. “There’s something I need to talk about with you urgently.”   The goddess speaks no further, quickly assessing the situation and her arms drops to her side.   Miyin is led to a small garden house and they sit across from each other with the low table in between. “What’s wrong?”   “I need to use that favour.”    “Okay. What is it?”   “It’s about Namjoon,” Miyin murmurs and the Goddess of the Sky takes less than a moment to recall the name she had not heard spoken in so long. No matter how many times the gods are reborn, they can’t forget the history that has happened. “He has returned.”   “What? Have you told Jin?!”   “No.” She shakes her head. “He is why I’ve come to you. You and I know Seokjin is afraid that history will repeat and rhyme, that there will be war and devastation. It’s why he changed his approach. Why he led the other gods to be merciful and forgiving as well. And I fear someday, he might find it in himself to grant Namjoon the same kind of mercy. But I….I can’t forgive him.”   The goddess’ brows furrow. “Miyin....”   Yet the Goddess of Dreams remains undeterred and clenches her fist within her lap. “Namjoon has violated and destroyed our marriage, brought down his dignity and my own. His punishment of betraying my trust is to never be reborn, to never refresh his soul. At least not until I see fit.”   “He has learnt nothing in the time spent wandering the Underworld. He still claims vengeance, claims that he will rise again and make the gods pay for banishing him.” She trembles with ire and then calls the Goddess of the Sky’s name, eyes meeting her once more. “Promise me that if Namjoon ever steps above my domain....if he ever manages to crawl above the Underworld without my permission, you will conjure a huge storm to send him back.”   No one is allowed to forgive Namjoon — not without Miyin’s agreement.    She refuses to be blindsided. Refuses to be startled again.   “Miyin, you know I cannot control the weather as I please.”   “I know, but you can still try your best. You are the only one I can depend on, the only one who could match Seokjin’s powers if he were to ever absolve Namjoon.” The Goddess of the Underworld remains steadfast. “I will try my hardest too. He will stay where he rightfully belongs in my domain. I just need someone else to fall back on. I need someone I can trust.”   There’s a moment of silence.   And then the Goddess of the Sky nods.

You look at the horizon.   It once was a blue sky. Sunlight. You can recall children rushing about and giggling under the light, chasing after the sparse clouds. But most of all, you remember being dressed in white, pressing your palms together, and others around you murmuring incantations together….   “Tonight...” Namjoon’s voice thunders, interrupting your thoughts. “We launch our first attack.”   You turn to him and then towards the shadow of the Underworld palace outlined in the darkness. All the souls he’s taken has been for this hour. Namjoon finally has enough strength and he’s moments away from destruction.   “Once I take over the Underworld realm, I will have power again. The universe cannot go without a place for the dead to rest after all.” He wears a victorious smile, glancing at you as if you should be grateful to be the first to witness his claim. “Someday all will worship me.”   Worship — the word sticks to you.   Suddenly, visions billow through your mind. Worship.   Worship. You see temples and rituals beneath your eyelids, the grand sky shining above you, exhaustion taking hold of your frame as the fire spreads through the village.   Worshiping — it was what you dedicated your life to.   You can recall, like a distant memory of childhood, foggy but present. You were a priestess in your past life and revered the God of Sun, Seokjin. You devoted your life to devout prayer and sacred worship. You mediated and gave sacrifices, intently read the stars and charted them, and once blessed a sword of a mortal man. The memories rush through you, striking you speechless, filling you with the sorrow of loss to contentment. You were fulfilled in spite of dying so young and being unable to accomplish all you sought to do. You had met your purpose.   But perhaps there is another purpose for you here.   You shift towards Namjoon, expression crumpled rather than the neutral state he has become accustomed to. “I….remember,” you murmur, “I remember my life.”   And you remember him.    Namjoon — God of the Underworld.    You know of his tales, read about them, had seen paintings and states of him. Except, you didn’t know that after your death, he was banished from his position. You didn’t know he would be holding onto his anger when everyone else had forgotten about him.    His brows lift, amused. “Strange, but your clarity of mind must’ve made your memories return. So what kind of peasant were you? Did you die of illness or hunger?”   You shake your head.    “I was a priestess.”   You approach the King of Dead within three strides and before he can stagger back, your palms lift to cradle his cheeks and you lift yourself to press your mouth against his in a searing kiss.   It’s soft. His lips are plusher than you could’ve thought possible. And you keep the affection gentle and chaste — something you’re sure he is not used to. Your eyes shut and you can feel his gaze placed on your features, eyes widen in slight surprise. But it is not simply a gesture made out of desire or lust.   It is part of your ritual.   After a moment, you part from Namjoon.    “Oh, great god who has fallen and been forgotten, free yourself from your burdens,” you murmur the incantation, one of the thousands that you had learnt to memory. “Allow the souls you have led astray, corrupted and consumed to grant you mercy. You who have abandoned humanity, hear my prayers. Allow my pity to liberate you from your sufferings. God of Underworld, God of Death, great god who has fallen and been forgotten, be free of your misery and despair.”   It is your final sacrifice.   The final remains of your soul is used to protect the living from Namjoon’s reprisal.    The last remnants of your strength is used to shield all you have known and love — mankind who will never know your offering and the glory of Heaven which you will never see.    In an instant, your soul bursts.   The final pieces of the energy you have left is used and your form begins to fade.   Namjoon lurches back, his skin aglow. “No...no….NO!” He stares at his open hands, eyes widened at the way his flesh is illuminated like the stars, the power that he had collected for over a century surges out of him in a flood, past the gaps of his fingertips, not allowing him to grasp on.   He can feel his wrath escaping. The intense fervour of his spirit dying.   In the last moments of your consciousness, before your translucent form succumbs to the darkness, you gaze at the fallen god. And your eyes speak purely of pity.   But never does he notice. He does not look at you in your final moments.   Namjoon screams. His eyes are placed on his own body, into his hands that were supposed to take back what was rightfully his. And once more, the exiled god falls onto his knees.

There is nothing.   All that was left of him was his anger, sadness and despair. Without it, the anguish and hatred, he has become empty. Like the darkness that surrounds him, his spirit has become a void.   He is lifeless.    Namjoon moves sluggishly, lurching forward until he sits on his throne. It is a thoughtless action, something that has been entrenched into his muscle memory. His body is cold but he does not feel it. He merely grabs hold of the armrests in a listless manner, settling in as he mindlessly stares at the oblivion with eyes hollowed and glazed over. A vegetative state on auto-pilot.   His throne is placed on a mountain of bones and corpses of which he knows no name of.    Namjoon has truly become the King of the Dead.

[mister-e-mime]

Orcus ex machina

This was incredible! Ned Marion, a.k.a. Hoodfella, had never felt so alive! He didn’t know what had happened exactly, but since he had awoken on the slope of Mount Zinit, he had felt so empowered. With this newfound strength and vigor, he had gathered his remaining hoodlums and together, they were tearing through the highest ranks of the Cult of Ogrest who were desperately trying to protect their self-proclaimed god Ogrest.

 Their progress up the mountain was near miraculous, but this was not due to the combined talents of the hoodlums, but rather to one powerful artifact: Ned’s Mask of Mimicry. By some divine intervention, he and his mask had both survived Count Harebourg’s attack on their ship and as before, the mask had ‘remembered’ all attacks used on it. So now Hoodfella held the utterly destructive power of Harebourg’s Pendultimatum spell, rendering entire legions of Grambos into icy stalagmites.

 Next to Ned, the Feca Arnold Shielder summoned another protective barrier around his companions as the previous one shattered under the incoming projectiles: “Boss, at this pace we won’t last much longer! We’ve already lost half of our companions!” “Not much longer,” Hoodfella yelled over the roar of the battle, “We’re almost there.” He muttered under his breath: “Almost there. Not much longer. Not much longer and I will fulfill my destiny.” He burst out into laughter as a nearby trebuchet of the Cult blasted into pieces.

 In a dark hall, miles away from the battle, a similar laughter filled the empty darkness. On one of the larger piles of rubble, a few Goblins gathered to watch the spectacle unfolding at the end of the room: there Dramak the Second sat in his predecessor’s throne, controlling a plethora of puppets. They danced and moved at his feet as if they were performing a complex fighting/dance routine while others lay lifeless and broken.

 Most of the puppets were about knee-high and dressed in hoodlum garments. The only exceptions were a life size puppet of Dramak himself that stood still next to his throne and the similar looking gargantuan puppet-statue behind the throne that mimicked the movements he performed with the paddles in his seat. “Ha, ha, ha! Such splendid spectacle! The final act is upon us. The next chapter of the World of Twelve will be written by yours truly!”

 He had hardly finished his sentence or another of the hoodlum marionettes jerked spastically before it fell to the floor. On Mount Zinit Harlet, a female Osamodas, screamed: “Arnold!” She jumped on the back of her Boowolf and rode to where Hoodfella and Mechaflex the Foggernaut were leading the frontline: “This is madness! There is only the three of us left! Even IF we reach the Ogre, we will never…” Her plea was interrupted by a bellowing roar, followed by a rumbling of the earth.

 “That is no longer an ‘if’, my dear,” Ned said almost grinning to Harlet. Before them the Cult of Ogrest scurried away as a large shadow emerged behind them. “Behold,” Ned said almost in awe, “the scourge of the World of Twelve!” With thundering footsteps, Ogrest revealed himself to the little band of heroes. Harlet O’Scarra could hardly keep her furry mount under control as the giant towered over the three of them, gnarling and glowering.

 Back in his hideout, Dramak stood up from his throne and spoke, the words echoing both in his lair as in Ned’s mouth: “Ogrest! We are here to end your tyranny of chaos and suffering! Return what is rightfully ours or we will be forced to take it from you!” For a moment in time, all remained quiet as the Ogre just continued to stare at them. But before Dramak/Ned could speak again, Ogrest bent over and let out another deafening roar, almost blowing the threesome from the mountain.

 After this display of power the Osamodas could no longer control her Boowolf and with his tail between his legs, he hurried down the mountain, his mistress still on his back, screaming commands. Ned’s mask on the other hand sizzled with power as it had absorbed the powerful sound-attack into its arsenal. “Yes!” Dramak resounded in his head, “do your worst, Ogre! A few more of those blows and we will be just as powerful as you.”

 “Do not worry, fearless leader,” said Mechaflex beside him as he drew his Stasis-powered pistol, “I will not abandon you. Together, we will...” But before he could end his sentence, Ogrest’s open paw came crashing down, ramming the mechanical man into the ground. At Dramak’s theatre, the second last of his puppets fell to the floor. For a moment, Ned was taken aback by this display of brute force, but the voice in his head quickly brought him back.

 Again, Dramak and Ned spoke in synchrony: “You foul brute! I am no longer a mere mortal! I wield the power of the gods and even you will dance to my tune!” The mask started to charge as Hoodfella called all its collected powers to launch in one combined attack upon the Ogre. In the process he became wrapped in a blue aura as the ‘eye of Dramak’ lit up on his mask.

 “Now I will prove once and for all that I am the greatest mind of all times! Bow to me, you dimwitted dolt, and realize you are nothing before me!” At these words the entire mask lit up under Ned’s black cowl and he braced himself to launch his attack. “Fire!” Dramak shouted from the top of his lungs, but before the command reached Ned’s brain, Ogrest smacked the ground between them, causing him to lose his footing.

 As he fell over backwards, the mask fired a powerful beam… harmless into the air, parting the dark clouds over Mount Zinit. It did lit the sky and was seen as far as Kelba. “No!” Dramak clenched his fists as he jumped on his seat. “Get back up your feet, you puny puppet, and destroy that beast!” Ned tried to regain his bearings and got up just in time to see Ogre stretch out his backhand and slap him right in the face.

 Of course, when the most powerful creature on the planet slaps you in the face, you don’t simply say ‘ouch’ and compose yourself. But Ecaflip still had some hand in Ned’s destiny as the blow did not kill him. It did however propel him off the mountain at breakneck speed and into the clouds, beyond all sight. Even beyond Dramak’s control.

 “NO!! It cannot be!” Dramak screamed as he tore the upholstery from his throne. “No! No! No! NO! I was so close! The stage was set to perfection! This final act unfolded beyond all expectations! It should have resulted in a beautiful climax…” For a moment, the silence returned to the wrecked theatre. Dramak the Second dropped into his seat, the huge Dramak puppet in the back slumped over and so did the life-size puppet next to the throne.

 The only sound audible was once more the falling of drops from the ceiling into small puddles below. The Goblins shuffled uneasy and were about to return to their task when suddenly their master became alive again: “But wait, this play still has an epilogue! The actual lead has not yet perished.” He grabbed the Hoodfella marionette and dropped his cowl, revealing the white mask. “The true hero still holds the power of Ogrest, Harebourg and countless others!”

 He held it up to the life size Puppet Master who slowly rose from the floor: “As long as it is unbroken, it still play its part. Now only to find it…” The Dramak puppet slowly rose his arm and pointed towards the Hoodfella puppet. “You are right! His crippled corpse must still hold the mask! Now if only he comes back into range of my powers…” Dramak held his helmet with two hands, seemingly focusing his thoughts.

 “Now how long can it take for someone soaring through the skies to hit the ground?! The Ogre’s not that strong.” The Puppet Master tilted his head, as if in doubt of his controller’s statement. “Right,” Dramak sighed as he unfocused again, “one thing at a time.” He filled his lungs and shouted in the emptiness: “GOBVIOUS!” The Goblins on top of the pile jumped and dispersed between the rubble. In the back, behind the piles of debris, a slurping noise was audible.

 Dramak was already tapping his fingers impatiently when a strange figure appeared before him: a man dressed in a costume that can only be described as a mascot manhandled by a team of one-armed seamstresses. His face and shoulders were covered by an oversized goblin head wearing goggles and his hair tied on the back of his head with an elastic band to resemble a dusty mop. Below the mask, his torso and arms were bare and painted in the same gray-brown color as the mask. White pants and black boots finished it off.

 “What took you so long?” Dramak scolded. While he had a normal posture when coming in, the sound of his master’s voice suddenly turned him into a groveling little rodent: “Sorry Master, had to find a good place to put bag down, without raising suspicion.” “You think an adult man in a goblin costume wouldn’t raise suspicion in the first place?” Gobvious seemed to think this over, but Dramak didn’t give him the time to come up with a probably insufficient answer

 “Never mind! Where are we at the moment?” “Port of Sufokia,” the mascot man muttered, “wanted to take a boat to Wabbit Island.” “What?! To that rodent infested hell hole? To the origin of my predecessor’s demise?!” He grabbed one of the hoodlum puppets and hurled it at the mouth of the oversized mask. Gobvious yelped in pain as the wooden projectile hit him right between the eyes. “You incompetent oaf! Don’t you dare get on that boat!”

 As he wanted to pick up another puppet, he suddenly halted: “Yes, he’s back in range… and in Astrub, of all places. Nice neutral grounds. This will surely help us retrieve our little ‘trinket’.” His eye gleamed with joy as he outstretched his hand towards his cowering masked minion: “Stop your sniveling and listen up.” Abruptly the man stopped whimpering and stood to attention. “We are heading to Astrub. Find us the best ship around and I’ll deal with the crew.”

 “Yes Master,” Gobvious uttered and with a blank stare he headed back towards the exit while Dramak the Second treated himself to an outburst of dramatic villainous laughter echoing through the theatre. When the masked man reached the end of the hall, he got on hands and knees and crawled through a tiny exit, his large wooden head hardly fitting through.

 In one of the alleys of Steamulating Shores, a scruffy-looking haven bag twisted and turned before it spat out the unfortunate Gobvious on the cobblestones. The minion didn’t seem to mind much though as he picked up the bag and head out to port, with only one thought on his mind: please his Master and bring him to the shores of Astrub.