"Hmm... aren't you the kid from Akaza-dono's class? What brings you here?" Douma asked casually, his tone as breezy as ever, as he rose from his creaky wooden chair.
His fan-like sleeves swayed with his movement, and his sharp, almost playful gaze settled on Obanai.
He tilted his head slightly, the ever-present smile on his face deepening with curiosity.
Douma remembered this kid well—one of the few brats who didn't shed a single tear when his family was massacred by demons. At the time, the boy had caught his attention.
There was something fascinating about that cold detachment, something that made Obanai entertaining to watch.
But as with most of Douma's toys, the novelty eventually wore off. When Obanai no longer amused him, Douma handed him off to Akaza for "training."
"Yes, my lord. I am from Lord Akaza's class," Obanai replied, stepping into the room and giving Douma a respectful bow.
His movements were precise, almost robotic, as if he'd been drilled into perfection.
In this timeline, Obanai was a far cry from his canon self.
Found as a child by a demonic hound, he was taken in and raised under the strict tutelage of the demons.
Brainwashed and molded into one of their hounds—essentially a student—he had grown to hate demon slayers instead of demons.
In fact, he aspired to become a demon himself, dreaming of wiping out the very people who were supposed to save humanity aka the slayers
A perfect Uno reverse card, if there ever was one.
"Lord Douma," Obanai continued, keeping his gaze lowered, "Lord Akaza has sent me to inform you that Lord Kokushibo has summoned all instructors to his training grounds for a meeting."
Douma's playful expression remained unchanged, but his eyes flickered with subtle amusement as he observed the boy's demeanor.
Obanai's posture, the way his head stayed bowed—everything screamed discomfort. And Douma could sense it.
The kid didn't dare meet his eyes. It wasn't out of respect, though. No, it was something deeper, more primal.
A fear that had taken root the first time they crossed paths and had only grown since then. Douma found it endearing, like a tiny bird trembling in the palm of his hand.
"Lord Kokushibo?" Douma finally responded, his tone light but laced with curiosity.
ven though Douma loved to mess around and play his twisted little games, there was one line he didn't dare cross—anything involving Kokushibo. Let's be real, Kokushibo wasn't like the others.
While most demons barked loud and bit soft, Kokushibo didn't even bother barking. He'd just rip you apart with one clean, terrifying bite.
"Hmm... well, class is about to end anyway," Douma thought, tapping a finger against his chin.
After a brief pause, he clapped his hands together and announced cheerfully, "Alright, you're all dismissed! Go grab your lunch in the cafeteria."
And just like that, he was gone. One moment he was standing there, and the next, he moved so fast that none of the kids could even process it.
One second he was in their field of vision, and the next, the room felt eerily empty.
First-Person POV
The second that lunatic walked out, the classroom turned into chaos. Every kid bolted for the door like their lives depended on it.
And honestly, who could blame them? Their faces lit up, a spark of excitement replacing the soul-sucking depression they'd all been wearing during class.
Why the sudden change? Simple. The demons were absolutely loaded.
What's that got to do with anything? you ask. Well, let me spell it out for you: we're eating like kings here.
Wagyu beef, Yubari king melons, cakes, pastries—you name it, they've got it.
And not just on special occasions, mind you. It's every damn day. Tell me you wouldn't sprint out of class if a five-star buffet was waiting for you on the other side.
Honestly, I'm starting to like it here purely because of the food. Before all this, my life was... well, let's just say it wasn't exactly gourmet.
My mom used to make me steal food from the markets, and guess who took all the blame if I got caught? Yeah, me.
And if I didn't get caught? She'd take the food anyway, barely leaving me enough to fill my stomach.
So, yeah. This setup isn't half bad. A little misery during class is a fair trade for stuffing my face with the best food I've ever had.
But forget that for a second—I needed to focus on the master plan I came up with a whopping 2.69 seconds ago. It was genius. Flawless. Probably stupid, but hey, it was worth a shot.
I sprinted at full speed, weaving through the kids rushing out of the classroom, and caught up to Obanai.
Unlike the others, he wasn't running. He was just walking, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
"Your eyes are so pretty and cool," I said, slapping on my best fake sincerity as I gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Total lie, of course, but Obanai froze like I'd just revealed the secrets of the universe.
His mismatched eyes went wide, and for a moment, he seemed completely shell-shocked. Was this the first compliment he'd ever received? Judging by the way his cheeks flushed pink, probably.
"Wh-what?" he stammered, blinking at me like I'd grown a second head. The blush deepened.
Great. Success!
"Wanna be my friend?" I said, flashing a grin. Except I wasn't really asking. And by "friend," I mostly meant "free slave." Though, maybe an actual friend, too—let's see how useful he turns out.
Third-Person POV
Meanwhile, in another part of the demon stronghold...
"Lord Kokushibo, why have you called all of us here?" Douma asked, his usual cheerful tone slightly subdued.
He was seated on a plain wooden chair, surrounded by the other Upper Moons, all of whom wore varying expressions of confusion or irritation.
It wasn't every day that both Kokushibo and Muzan called for a meeting like this, and the air was thick with tension.
Douma leaned back, trying to maintain his nonchalant demeanor, but even he couldn't deny the rare seriousness of the situation.
Kokushibo, calm as ever, sat at the head of the room, taking a slow sip of tea. The porcelain cup was a relic from the British Empire, one of the finer treasures he'd acquired over the years.
Setting the cup down with the kind of grace that made you think he moonlighted as a nobleman, he finally spoke.
"How should I put this..." Kokushibo began, his voice steady, measured, and just a little ominous. He paused for a moment, almost like savoring the dramatic tension.
"But the Demon King is missing."
{A/N: Drop some comments for an extra chapter!}