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Akaza chews absently at his nails as he walks along a narrow path high above nothing in the Infinity Castle. He went to the effort of cleaning up before coming here, but he always has to chew and lick the blood out from under his nails after a good fight.
And it had been a good fight. Good enough, interesting enough, to make him come to this place he hates.
His teeth grind down too hard on one of his nails and take the tip of his finger off, causing a little explosion of his own bitter blood on his tongue. It overrides the taste of the Hashira, making him grumble as he comes to a stop before an edge looking down into empty space. The air is heavy, almost stagnant down here.
He wiggles his toes over the edge of the platform as he reaches into his consciousness, feeling out the threads of life that exist there. Kokushibou’s is easy to find, steady and strong, and he gives it a gentle nudge. Though he continues to have a deep contempt for the older demon, he doesn’t think it’s reciprocated; actually, he thinks Kokushibou almost… likes him? (Well, he must like him a little to have not killed him after their blood battle, but Akaza doesn’t like to think about that.)
The curious nudge is returned, and he takes a deep breath before spinning on his heel and dropping backwards. And he falls for a long time.
He hates the Castle, which is a shame because he actually doesn’t mind the biwa woman. But her Blood Demon Art, being inside of it, it’s an assault on his senses. Even without activating his compass, his senses are stretched and frayed at the bloodlust and killing intent soaked into every cell of the place. It makes his teeth feel like they’re itching, makes his eyeballs feel like they’re throbbing, makes his lungs feel like they’re collapsing. The constant movement, constant growth, plucks at his attention from every direction until he can barely tell which way is up.
Falling through the Castle isn’t better, but the air rushing along his skin feels nice, especially as it takes on the scent and feeling of Kokushibou’s presence. Though he’s never outright stated it, every demon knows that the deep reaches of the Castle are his territory. But he suspects an exception will be made for him.
He tucks himself into a roll and flips a couple of times before landing hard on his feet, fists clenching as he rights himself and tries to quiet his compass.
Which is a pointless endeavor, he knows, because being surrounded on all sides by Kokushibou’s presence just makes everything worse. His skin prickles at the danger danger danger he’s in, but he straightens his back and starts walking.
This fear, this shameful prey instinct, it’s a weakness that he must shake off. And he will; he’ll endure it until he adapts, until he’s strong enough to rip the ranking out of Kokushibou’s scornful eyes.
At the end of the hallway, a door slides open. On the other side of it is Kokushibou, kneeling in perfect seiza with all six of his eyes closed. Akaza keeps his steps measured and even, taking care not to stomp unintentionally. His being invited in is a miracle, even with Kokushibou’s… strange feelings regarding him, and he doesn’t doubt that if he acts out he’ll pay for it.
When he gets to the doorway, he pauses on the other side and looks at the kneeling demon. He is, as always, the picture of majestic and composed. Drawing in another deep breath, he lifts his hand and raps his knuckles on the doorframe before stepping through and listening to the shoji snap shut behind him.
“Akaza… this is rare,” he drones as a greeting. His middle right eye opens and focuses on him. “Why are you here?”
“I have a question.”
At that, his left middle eye also opens and they both lock on him. The back of his neck prickles under the stare. “A question?”
“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can answer it.” Kokushibou inclines his head in encouragement, and Akaza chews the tip of his tongue as he gathers his words. His eyes linger on the flame shapes swirling over his face and down his neck, and he sees Kokushibou’s eyes narrow slightly. “What happens… what is it that causes a human to develop demon marks? Like the ones you have.”
Kokushibou clearly wasn’t expecting that, and those middle eyes go wide as his lower eyes crack open. He stares hard at Akaza, making him feel pinned.
“Sit down… and tell me… everything.”
Akaza purses his lips. He’d wanted to avoid having to do that, but his need for answers is stronger than his need to be away from this place. He lowers himself to the floor, pulling one knee up to his chest and propping his elbow up on it. If the informality bothers Kokushibou, he doesn’t show it.
“A couple of nights ago I had a fight. The Rumble Hashira. He was wonderful, his spirit was so bright and fierce! He said no, when I asked him to become a demon, they always do.” He can’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. Kokushibou grimaces a bit, and he knows that the other wants to ask him why he remains obsessed with turning a Hashira, but that conversation only takes them in circles. “Anyway. He said no, the fight went on, I ended up smashing his ribs and ruining a couple of organs. Usually that’s when the fight starts winding down, you know, and they die after that. And I expected that, but then… I don’t know, something happened to him.”
Kokushibou cocks his head to the side. “Something happened to him?” he repeats.
Akaza nods, straightening up and pulling his knee closer. “It was strange. It was like… his spirit was still strong but it suddenly got brighter, bigger. It was incredible. He should have been on the ground in agony, or bleeding out, but suddenly his defenses were tight and he was fighting as though I’d never injured him! Even better than before, actually, he was so much faster and stronger, I could practically feel the heat coming off of him. And these marks… not really like yours, exactly, they were kind of orange and they appeared on his chest and up his neck.” He knows he’s gushing and it’s a little embarrassing but he just can’t help it. He’s fought so many Hashira, seen so many beautiful martial arts and spirits, but when this one told him they’d go to hell together… for just a moment he’d almost believed it. “And I know his power increased with the mark. I still killed him in the end, but that final stand… I’ve never seen anything like it. It was… exhilarating.”
Kokushibou is silent for a moment, one hand coming up to idly trace along his own marks. He himself was a Hashira, and Akaza is positive that those crests are the same as whatever happened to his latest kill.
“His heart… you could hear it?”
Akaza scoffs at the question. “Of course I could. It was racing. Come to think of it… I’ve never heard a human’s heart beat that fast.”
“Yes… the demon mark… increases a human’s capabilities. Greatly. Only on the most powerful slayers… and in the most extreme circumstances… does it appear. Those who survive… manifesting the mark… can cause others to manifest… their own marks. As though… the power resonates… between humans.”
“Then you have seen it before?” Akaza asks eagerly, leaning forward and pulling his legs down to cross in front of him. “Aside from on yourself?”
“Yes. During the Sengoku Era… many of the Hashira… developed such marks. But the price is great. The strain put on the body… to meet the requirements… it causes extreme degradation. Those who develop the mark… and survive the encounter… will inevitably die when they reach twenty-five.”
Akaza blinks as the words wash over him. Usually he hates Kokushibou’s long, rambling explanations, but this time, he’s glad for the pause. The answers are about what he expected, but that last bit…
“That’s such a waste,” he eventually says. And he means it. Humans chosen to carry power that could put them on par with demons shouldn’t be fated to be struck down in their prime. “All the more reason for a Hashira with one of them to become a demon!”
“Akaza… you are special… to have driven a Hashira to such heights. But know this… few will ever reach it. I doubt the corps… even has records of it… they wouldn’t know of the cost. And if they did… it wouldn’t drive them to you.”
His teeth grind together. He’s never sure what to do with Kokushibou’s praise, so he’s going to pretend he didn’t say it. But that last comment grates on his nerves; the hypocrisy of it eats at him. “Then why did you become a demon?” he snaps. Immediately, he wishes he could reel the words back in as his skin prickles with danger again. He chews on his bottom lip and wishes, not for the first time, that he’d forgone the third pair of eyes for eyebrows. It would make communicating with him so much easier.
“For the same reason… that you did. To become stronger.”
Akaza huffs and shakes his head, fairly sure that there’s more to it than that. His impudence is ignored, and he lets his head drop back with a groan.
“So, what happened a couple of nights ago probably won’t ever happen again?” He tries to keep the whine out of his voice, but he feels a little cheated. Like something delicious was dangled in front of him for a night before being yanked away.
“It might not…” Kokushibou agrees, “but it might. You have done it once… do it again.”
For a moment, Akaza wonders if Kokushibou is talking about driving a Hashira to develop a mark, or if he’s talking about issuing another challenge. He doesn’t make it a secret how much he’d enjoyed their fight.
The lull in conversation is as good a reason as any to take his leave, so he makes his way to his feet. And, because he wants to leave without being scolded or losing any limbs, he inclines his head to Kokushibou.
“Thank you for entertaining me. And… I will. One day, I’ll have my Hashira and I’ll kill you. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
As he crosses the threshold of the room, he hears a hum. “Do your best.”