The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, a delicate pink contrast to the sharp, jagged edges of your heart. In the world of colors usually held meaning—vitality, warning, or stagnant sorrow. But today, the world just looked like fading ink.
For months, you had become a ghost in his periphery. As his apprentice-turned-partner, you understood the weight of his "work." You knew the scales demanded his focus. But lately, the balance had tipped. He was no longer just slaying Mononoke; he was disappearing into the role of the enigmatic Medicine Seller that the world known him as.
In every village, young maidens begin to noticed him. They flocked to him, drawn by his ethereal beauty and the mystery behind those eyes. And he let them. He would spend hours in a teahouse, surrounded by giggling daughters of wealthy merchants, speaking in his low, melodic riddles while you sat ten paces away, holding the medicine chest like a hired hand.
The breaking point came in the capital.
Kusuriuri had spent the entire afternoon "gathering information" from a group of noblewomen, his painted lips curved in that devastating, aloof smirk, while you stood in the corner, pouting, waiting for him to acknowledge you. When you finally stepped forward to touch his arm, he had pulled away without looking, his focus entirely on the fan a young woman was holding.
"Not now," he had murmured, his voice as cold as the rain.
The argument that followed back at the inn was unlike any other. It wasn't poetic. It was jagged.
"I am not worth your time," you cried, your voice cracking. "You look at them, you talk to them, you charm them—but you haven't looked at me in weeks!"
He stood, his back to you. "Personal attachments... complicate the Truth," he said, his tone infuriatingly level.
"Then let’s uncomplicate it," you whispered, hot tears finally spilling over. "I’m done. I’m not your apprentice, and I’m clearly not your girlfriend anymore. Find your own Truth."
You left that night, leaving the paper bird he once gave you on the floor.
....
For the Kusuriuri, time usually flowed like a river. But after you left, the river stagnated.
He told himself it was easier. The journey felt lighter without your presence. But as he moved from village to village, the "work" felt hollow. He would stand before a Mononoke, demanding its Truth, only to realize he was looking for you beside him.
Maidens still flocked to him, but he found their voices grating, like dry paper rubbing together. He realized he had used them as a shield—a way to keep the world at a distance because the depth of what he felt for you was the only thing he couldn't categorize into "Form, Truth, and Regret."
He had committed the ultimate sin: he had ignored the Truth of his own heart.
....
You had found work in a small mountain shrine, helping the local monks with their archives. It was quiet. It was safe. It was grey.
One afternoon, the scent of incense was replaced by the sharp, familiar tang of tea leaves and old paper. You didn't turn around when you heard the clunk of wooden geta on the stone path.
"The air in this mountain is thin," a melodic voice drifted through the courtyard. "It lacks... color."
You kept your back to him, your heart hammered. "The medicine seller should move on. There are no Mononoke here."
"Are there not?"
You could hear the chime of bells. Closer now. "I find a great deal of Regret lingering by this shrine," he murmured.
You finally turned, ready to scream, to tell him to leave—but the words died in your throat. He looked... different. His posture wasn't quite as rigid. He wasn't leaning away. He was standing directly in your space, his blue eyes wide and focused entirely, devastatingly, on you.
There were no other women. No mononoke. Just the two of you under the falling cherry blossoms.
"I was a fool," he said. It was the most direct thing you had ever heard him say. No riddles. No metaphors. "I sought the Truth in spirits and shadows, and ignored the only Truth that mattered."
He reached into his sleeve and pulled out cherry blossom flower.
"I cannot promise the path will be easy," he whispered, stepping close enough that you could smell the spring on his robes. "The Mononoke will always call. But... I do not wish to face them alone. Not anymore."
He didn't smirk. He didn't look away. He waited.
The anger that had sustained you for months flickered and died, replaced by that old, familiar warmth as you allowed him to tuck the flower behind your ear.
"If you ever ignore me again," you threatened, though your voice was soft, "I’ll hide your Exorcism Sword in a well."
A genuine, rare shimmer of amusement lit up his eyes. He reached out, his slender fingers brushing a strand of your hair.
"A fair trade," he murmured.
He didn't kiss you—not yet—but as he took your hand, the scales on began to sing. Not a warning that there's a mononoke, but a bright, rhythmic chime that sounded exactly like a heartbeat.
Fin.
Note: Nakanaori means to reconcile, make up, or become friends again after a quarrel.
Could I request a one shot of the Medicane Seller, from Mononoke movie 2024, of meeting read we who becomes his apprentices. Like he saved her from a mononoke.
Apprentice |Kon!Kusuriuri x Reader|
It has rained for seven days. Not the cleansing sort that washes dust from tiles, but a wet, oppressive gloom that melts the very edges of reality. The village of Hishida is sinking into it. The papier-mâché masks of the local shrine, usually vibrant, have softened, bleeding their red and blue pigments into the muddy earth like weeping wounds. The townspeople are shuttered, silent, paralyzed by a creeping numbness. They whisper of the "Rain Sickness."
You felt it first as a persistent chill. Then, you stopped being able to see the colors of the rain—the slate grey, the moss green. Now, you only see a dull, creeping void. It’s hard to remember your own name.
You are huddled under the eaves of the abandoned silk loomery, the largest structure left standing. The gloom is thickening. In the center of the muddy path, the void is coalescing into a shape—a shapeless, swirling mass of indigo that smells of ozone and petrichor, but also something sweet and sickening, like old rot. It is the Mononoke of Stagnant Grief. It is the sickness made flesh, and it is here for you, the last one moving.
It is silent, yet its approach sounds like a deafening roar of falling rain in your mind. The air freezes, turning brittle. You back against the weathered wood, the sharp tang of despair rising in your throat. You shut your eyes, waiting for the cold to claim you.
Clack.
The sound is impossible. A crisp, sharp click of wood hitting stone.
You force your eyes open. Standing between you and the indigo maw is a man. He should not exist here. He is a shocking splash of color in this colorless world—a kimono of black, red, purple and blue. Golden eyes, unnervingly still, are fixed on the Mononoke.
On his back sits a large, intricately carved wooden medicine chest, its surfaces covered in tiny, moving brass scales. They are chattering now, a rapid, rhythmic shhh-shhh-shhh.
"It is a heavy thing, grief that refuses to pass," he says. His voice is a low, melodious cadence, lacking standard inflection. "Like a river that has forgotten how to flow."
He ignores you completely. The Mononoke shifts, its indigo center deepening, preparing to strike.
The man’s hands move. They are slender, graceful. He reaches toward his chest and pulls out several sheets of fine, textured washi paper. With a flick of his fingers, they snap in the air, transforming into dozens of protective ofuda (paper charms) that immediately surround the Mononoke in a shifting, humming cube.
"The Form is gathered," he says. He draws a small sword from his sash, the hilt has the face of an Oni. "But it is restless."
The Mononoke thrashes against the paper barrier, its shape shifting from a simple mass into something almost resembling a sorrowful face, then back again.
"Now..." He tilts his head slightly. The brass scales on his back chatter faster. "I must hear the Truth. What gave this sorrow such weight? What anchor holds you to this shifting rain?"
He is looking through the entity, demanding its secret. He doesn't need physical words; he is communicating with the residue of human emotion that created it. The air becomes impossibly dense, the ambient temperature dropping twenty degrees in an instant. The rain stops falling, freezing in mid-air as a million perfect, icy needles surrounding you.
A strangled sound seems to arise from the Mononoke itself—the combined weight of the village’s collective sorrow. They were ashamed of the sickness, hid their faces, and let their despair rot silently rather than sharing the burden. Their shared shame became their cage.
"Ah." A slight smirk plays on his painted lips. "And the Regret. You did not want to sink. You wanted to cry out. You regret the silence."
The Medicine Seller smiles, a gesture that feels more like a geometric revelation than an emotion.
The Mononoke shudders violently. Suddenly, a burning light flares, blindingly bright. The man's form is replaced by another─hair long as spilled ink, skin like the sun marked with red patterns, and eyes like the moon in the night. With a graceful, powerful leap, he pierces the center of the indigo entity.
There is no explosion. Instead, the entity unravels. It is like watching a watercolor painting wash away in a sudden storm. The vibrant indigo bleeds, the darkness recedes, and in its place, millions of invisible threads of old sorrow dissolve into the air.
The rain resumes, but it feels different. Light. Cleansing. The colors return. You see the deep green of the moss, the rich, wet brown of the earth. You can see him in dazzling clarity.
The divine being is gone. Instead, it's just the Medicine Seller who stands there, perfectly poised. He slides the now sheathed blade back into his sash. He reaches back, and with a soft click, the door of his medicine chest closes.
"The treatment is complete," he says, his golden eyes still fixed on the air where the creature had been. "The air is clear. The river will flow again."
You are frozen. Not from the chill of the Mononoke, but from awe. This creature, this man, did not fight; he dissolved a nightmare. He demanded the world explain itself, and it complied.
He begins to turn away, his gait rhythmic, almost like a dance, a farewell. He is walking towards the edge of the loomery, ready to dissolve back into the mist.
"Wait!" The word tears itself from your throat before you can think.
He pauses. He does not turn around fully, but his posture shifts, signaling that he is listening.
"Who are you?" you stammer.
"I am merely a transient medicine seller," he says, his voice receding even as his physical form remains. "A traveler through the shifting seasons."
Your chest swells with a feeling that is not fear, not sorrow, but a profound yearning. You cannot let this vision vanish. This is the truth of the world, and you want to touch it.
You scramble out from under the eaves, your knees sinking into the mud. "Take me with you!" you blurt out, the desperation cracking your voice. "I want... I want to learn. Let me be your apprentice."
The silence stretches between you, thicker than any rain. He turns his head slowly. The painted profile, the pointed ear, the intense, enigmatic yellow gaze.
A slow, soft sound escapes him. It is not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. A low, melodic murmur of amusement.
"An apprentice?" He turns his full gaze upon you. "The path of the Scale is not for the faint of heart... or the loud of soul."
His gaze drops to the mud caking the hem of your yukata, then returns to your eyes, piercing and terrifyingly present.
"Can you find the Truth in a whisper? Can you see the Form when all is dark? Can you shoulder the Regret of others and not sink?"
He is a riddle made of colors and paper. You don't understand the questions, but you know you have to answer them. You can't let him go back into the grey. You nodded desperately.
It's a lie but the Medicine Seller studies you for another long, agonizing moment. Then, hiis painted lips tilt upward ever so slightly. A smile.
"Then follow," he says, a promise disguised as an order.
Without waiting for your response, he turns and continues his rhythmic walk. As he moves forward, a soft, warm blue mist begins to spiral around him, obscuring his multicolored form. You realize with a jolt that he is vanishing into the clearing rain. If you wait another second, he will be gone, like an illusion.
You struggle up from the mud and race forward, chasing after the impossible kaleidoscope of colors that is already fading into the mist. You are chasing rain and light, chasing the man who sees the hidden truths of the world, leaving the silent village of Hishida far behind you, your first lesson having already begun.
Info: Aka Manto [The Red Cloak] is a Japanese urban legend about a masked spirit who appears to people using public or school bathroom toilets. The spirit asks the victim if they want red or blue paper; choosing red can result in being brutally cut to death, while blue can lead to strangulation or having all blood drained. Many variations of the legend exist, but they all feature this dangerous choice, often considered a reference to a real-life incident or a story of revenge.
Summary: Ri!Kusuriuri and you investigate a school and take on the Aka Manto.
Relationships: Kusuriuri x FemReader
Characters: Ri!Kusuriuri, Other-self, you, original male character(s), original female character(s)
Hajinobu Academy.
The medicine seller's kimono sleeve brushed against the classroom doorframe as he paused. "Headmaster Motokuro," he said, voice flat as river stones, "your academy's plumbing system appears excessively burdened by... philosophical inquiries."
Motokuro blinked, adjusting his spectacles. "Philosophical inquiries? Young man, we teach mathematics and calligraphy here." Kusuriuri's gaze drifted to the faint, rust-colored water stain blooming across the ceiling plaster near the girls' lavatory corridor. He didn't smile—his face never did—but the purple mark on his upper lip seemed to sharpen. "Indeed. Particularly inquiries regarding chromatic preference under duress."
You shifted your weight uncomfortably. You didn't like the feeling of the place, as you hugged your beau's arm tightly. You heard Kusuriuri chuckle softly, "Relax, my Kiku."
"I don't like this place. It's giving me bad vibes," you muttered, tightening your grip on Kusuriuri's arm. The scent of damp wood and stale incense clung to the hallway, making your throat itch.
He patted your hand absently, his dark blue eyes fixed on the trembling headmaster. "Patience, Kiku. Truth often lurks beneath denial."
Motokuro huffed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Superstitious nonsense!"
Kusuriuri tilted his head slightly, the blue band in his hair catching the dim light. "I've heard rumors that a young woman named Rikoko Hoshiguchi vanished two months ago."
"Rikoko was one of our finest students." His eyes flickered sideways, avoiding Kusuriuri's unnervingly steady gaze. "She was... sensitive. Artistic temperament. The other girls found her peculiar." He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the heavy silence. "They teased her relentlessly. Called her names. Left cruel drawings on her desk. She stopped attending classes weeks before she vanished." Motokuro tugged at his collar, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. "Ran away, I'm certain."
Kusuriuri remained impassive, but you saw the subtle tightening of his jaw beneath the purple lip mark. He knew. You knew. Motokuro wasn't certain.
"Artistic temperament," Kusuriuri echoed, the words devoid of inflection yet heavy with implication. He gestured towards the stained ceiling. "Such temperaments often perceive truths others find... inconvenient. Tell me, Headmaster, where did Rikoko Hoshiguchi find solitude? Where might she have sought refuge?"
Motokuro flinched, his gaze darting towards the girls' lavatory corridor. "She... she spent much time in the courtyard garden. But sometimes..." He trailed off, unable to meet Kusuriuri's unnerving stare.
"The facilities," Kusuriuri finished for him, tone flat. "A place of quiet contemplation, away from prying eyes. Until it wasn't." He turned, the psychedelic patterns on his sleeves swirling like trapped spirits. "Then my apprentice and I would start our investigation."
You swallowed hard. "Investigation?" you echoed, dread pooling in your stomach.
Kusuriuri’s smirk deepened. "Precisely. And you, my dear, possess a unique talent for provoking spirits." He gestured to the girls’ lavatory. "Tonight, you will sit in the facility. Alone."
Your jaw dropped. "WHAT!? You want me to—to bait the mononoke? Absolutely not!" Your voice echoed down the corridor, sharp as shattered porcelain.
Motokuro flinched, but Kusuriuri merely raised an eyebrow, the red teardrop markings beneath his eyes catching the dim light like dried blood.
"My Kiku," he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. "The mononoke feeds on fear and isolation. Who better to draw it than someone radiating... spirited indignation?" He produced a folded stack of paper talismans from his sleeve, each inscribed with characters that seemed to writhe under your gaze.
"These will shield you." Before you could protest further, he pressed them into your hands. "Remember to stay calm. I won't lead you astray."
Now, perched on the cold ceramic seat in the farthest stall with paper talismans adorning the walls like desperate prayers, you understood the true meaning of "spirited indignation." It had curdled into pure, icy terror. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating, broken only by the frantic drumming of your own heart against your ribs.
"(*Sigh*)...Why me?" The whispered question hung in the stale air, unanswered.
After a few minutes of dead silence, the talismans suddenly activated—sigils curling like burning leaves until the eyes opened, glowing red! You jumped with a slight jolt upon hearing the heavy footsteps echo from outside the bathroom stall.
The footsteps were slow, deliberate, and heavy—each step sounded like a wet cloth slapping against the tile floor. The talismans lining the stall walls began to glow brighter, the ink sigils twisting like living things, emitting a low hum that vibrated in your teeth. You pressed your palms flat against the cold ceramic seat, knuckles white, trying to steady your breathing. The footsteps stopped right outside your stall door.
"Ku-Kusuriuri...?"
No answer. Only the oppressive silence pressing down, thick as wet cotton. A cold draft seeped in, carrying the faint, metallic tang of old blood and something else... stale ink? Like discarded calligraphy brushes left to rot.
The footsteps resumed—slow, deliberate—dragging across the tile like a wet rag wrung out too many times. They halted directly outside your stall door. Beneath the gap, you saw the hem of a cloak, crimson as fresh arterial spray, pooling on the grimy floor.
Slowly, the door opened without a creak—as if the hinges themselves held their breath. The figure stood framed against the flickering hallway light, draped in a cloak so violently red it seemed to bleed into the dimness. Its face was hidden behind a featureless Noh mask, smooth and white as bleached bone. You couldn't see eyes behind the mask's carved slits, but you felt its focus—cold, impersonal, like the weight of a stone pressed against your chest.
Then, a voice. It wasn't human. It vibrated, layered like cheap paper rubbed thin—a whisper scraping over gravel, yet echoing as if spoken down a long, empty corridor. "Human," it hissed, the words chillingly intimate despite the grotesque, featureless Noh mask you glimpsed beneath the hood.
"Paper pleases. Choose: red? Or blue?"
The voice scraped against your eardrums. You froze, breath trapped in your throat. The Aka Manto. Kusuriuri's teachings echoed—red meant flaying, and blue meant strangulation. Neither option ended well.
The talismans protected you physically, but not from the paralyzing dread clawing up your spine. Your mind raced. Kusuriuri was nearby, hidden, waiting for the spirit to fully manifest. But right now, you are alone with a nightmare.
The Noh mask tilted slightly, unnervingly curious. "Paper pleases. Red?" A crimson sleeve lifted, revealing fingers like dried twigs beneath the cloak. "Or blue?" The other sleeve rose, stained a deep, unsettling indigo. The air thickened with the scent of wet paper and decaying roses.
You swallowed hard, throat clicking. Stall. Stall for Kusuriuri. "Neither," you blurted, louder than intended. The talismans flared brighter, humming against the stall walls. "I brought my own!" You fumbled desperately in your kimono sleeve, pulling out a crumpled sheet of cheap, pink paper—the kind used for wrapping candy.
You held it up like a shield. "S-see? Pink paper!"
The Noh mask tilted sideways. Silence stretched, thick with the ozone crackle of activated talismans and your own frantic heartbeat. Then, a low, papery rustle emanated from beneath the cloak. Not laughter. More like dry leaves skittering across pavement.
"Pink?" The voice rasped, layered with confusion. "Pink is... unexpected." The crimson sleeve twitched, fingers curling slowly. "Not red. Pink." It sounded genuinely perplexed; the impersonal menace was momentarily fractured.
You clutched the crumpled candy paper tighter, knuckles digging into the cheap texture. "Y-yes! Pink. For... wrapping candy, like Konpeito." Your voice wobbled, adrenaline sharpening the scent of damp wood and stale incense clinging to the stall.
Behind the mask, you sensed a flicker of something alien—irritation?
"Pink offers no... satisfaction. No release." The words vibrated, colder now. "Choose properly. Red?" The crimson sleeve drifted closer, radiating a sickening warmth like fevered skin. "Or blue?" The indigo sleeve followed, chilling the air instantly.
"I..." The word dissolved into a choked gasp. The crimson sleeve drifted closer, radiating unnatural heat like sun-baked asphalt. The blue sleeve followed, chilling the air to frostbite sharpness. Your fingers trembled around the useless brown paper.
"Aka Manto!" The cry ripped through the bathroom, sharp and commanding, shattering the suffocating silence. Relief immediately washes over you at the sound of your beau.
Kusuriuri stood framed in the lavatory entrance, his silhouette cutting through the gloom. His light teal kimono seemed unnaturally crisp against the tiles, the psychedelic patterns on his sleeves swirling subtly, catching the dim light filtering through a high, grimy window.
The Aka Manto shuddered violently, its crimson cloak billowing as if caught in a sudden gale. The Noh mask snapped toward the medicine seller, the blank eyeholes radiating pure malice.
"Shape," Kusuriuri stated, his voice unnervingly calm. He didn't advance, merely stood poised in the doorway, the ornate sword Ri held vertically before him. The little demon head clacked its teeth. "Manifested as Aka Manto, the chromatic phantom bound to death and sorrow. Observed."
The spirit hissed, a sound like wet paper tearing. Its form flickered, momentarily revealing glimpses beneath the cloak—shifting shadows, the suggestion of tangled limbs, and the glint of something metallic caught in folds of impossible fabric.
Kusuriuri’s dark blue eyes tracked the distortions with clinical precision. "My Kiku, are you unharmed?" You heard him call out to you.
"Yeah... Still alive!" Your voice cracked, but the confirmation was enough.
Kusuriuri nodded sharply, his gaze never leaving the shuddering crimson phantom. The air thickened with the smell of wet paper and something acrid—like sulfur soap left too long in water.
"Reason...?" he murmured, fingers tightening around Ri's hilt. The sword remained inert, its secrets locked.
Hmm, he needed more information.
Just then, the lavatory door slammed open. Headmaster Motokuro stood panting in the doorway, spectacles askew. "What's going on in here!?"
The red cloak snapped towards him. The spirit froze—then shuddered violently. A low, guttural growl tore from beneath the Noh mask. It wasn't layered paper anymore—it was raw, feminine, and choked with fury. "Headmaster..." The name hissed like steam escaping a kettle.
Motokuro stumbled back, face draining of color. "Wh-what devilry—?"
Suddenly, there's a cracking sound as the three watch the noh mask fall off, revealing a dark void filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. The crimson cloak billowed like blood spreading in water as Aka Manto lunged toward Motokuro with a guttural screech—that raw, feminine voice tearing through the air. "YOU PROMISED!" The scream echoed with the agony of betrayal, sharp as broken glass.
"W-WAHH!"
Kusuriuri moved faster than thought. Multiple paper talismans flooded out from the sleeves of his kimono, snapping through the air like startled birds. They surrounded him and Motokuro with a sudden rush of wind, forming a shimmering barrier just as Aka Manto slammed against it.
"Kusuriuri..!" You poked your head out from the stall.
"Stay there, my kiku!" Kusuriuri's command cut through Motokuro's screams.
The barrier flared where Aka Manto clawed at it, each strike releasing sparks that smelled sharply of burnt hair. The spirit's void-mouth stretched impossibly wide, those teeth clicking like castanets. "YOU SAW THEM HURT ME!" A female voice ripped from it, thick with tears and rage. "YOU SAID YOU'D HELP ME!"
Motokuro cowered behind Kusuriuri, trembling so violently his glasses slipped off his nose and shattered on the tile. "W-What the devil is that thing?!"
"Dunno. You tell us." Kusuriuri's voice remained flat, but his dark blue eyes pinned Motokuro like specimens. The headmaster flinched as Aka Manto slammed against the barrier again, the impact vibrating through the tiles beneath your feet. The spirit's scream dissolved into choked sobs.
"You lied...!"
"It seems to know you, Headmaster," Kusuriuri said softly, his gaze never leaving the thrashing spirit. The barrier flickered with each impact, casting shifting amber light across his impassive face.
"Truth," he murmured, fingers tracing the ornate guard of Ri. The sword remained dormant. Not yet.
"Tell me, headmaster... What really happened to Miss Hoshiguchi?" Kusuriuri asked softly, his voice slicing through Motokuro's whimpers.
The barrier flared brighter as Aka Manto slammed against it again, sparks showering the tiles with the stench of singed silk. The spirit's teeth clicked wildly behind its void maw. "YOU BURIED ME IN THE GARDEN LIKE A DOG!" Rikoko's voice tore free—less scream, more shattered sob.
Motokuro flinched as if struck. "I—I didn't know!" His eyes darted wildly, avoiding Kusuriuri's unblinking stare. "The bullying... I told her to endure it! To be stronger! But then she—" He choked, gaze dropping to the shattered spectacles at his feet. "I found her hanging from the ceiling. Already cold." His shoulders slumped. "I-I-I panic. So I cut her down... buried her in the garden." The admission hung thick, sour as spoiled milk.
"YOU PROMISED TO PROTECT ME!" Rikoko's shriek rattled the barrier. The crimson cloak dissolved into swirling shreds of fabric, revealing a translucent girl in a torn academy uniform. Her neck bore a vicious purple bruise. Black tears streaked her cheeks. "YOU LEFT ME ALONE!"
Kusuriuri’s gaze snapped from Motokuro to the weeping spirit. "Truth acknowledged," he declared. Ri began to chatter its teeth again. "Shape: Aka Manto, born of betrayal. Reason: Rikoko Hoshiguchi, abandoned in death. Truth: Headmaster Motokuro’s cowardice." The sword’s guard clicked open. "Exorcism commences."
Motokuro whimpered, scrambling back against the barrier. "Stop it! Destroy that thing!" Rikoko’s spirit lunged again, her translucent fingers scraping the shimmering wall. Kusuriuri ignored him, stepping forward with Ri raised. The blade glowed faintly, humming like a tuning fork struck against bone.
"[Y/n], my kiku" he called, eyes locked on Rikoko’s weeping form. "The pink paper. Throw it." You blinked, clutching the crumpled sheet. "Now." His command brooked no delay.
You flung it through the barrier. The cheap candy paper fluttered like a dying moth, landing at Aka Manto/Rikoko’s feet. She froze, staring at it.
"Pink paper?" Kusuriuri’s voice was soft and deliberate. "For wrapping candy." He took another step forward, Ri humming louder. "Pink... It holds no promise of pain or oblivion. It holds... possibility."
An innocent color.
The world flips. Not like turning a page, but like ink spilled into water—swirling, dissolving, reforming. Kusuriuri’s light teal kimono bleeds into gold, the psychedelic patterns melting into twisting lines of molten metal. His dirty blonde hair streams upward, lengthening into an impossible cascade of white silk unrestrained by any bandanna. Where his pale skin was, dark tan spreads like spilled tea across parchment. The red teardrop markings beneath his eyes invert, becoming golden trails climbing his temples. His dark blue eyes vanish—replaced by pits of liquid night with crimson irises burning like coals at the bottom of a well.
The air doesn’t crackle; it thins. The scent of burnt hair and wet paper evaporates, replaced by nothingness—a vacuum where sound dies mid-vibration. He exists between. Not spirit, not flesh. The Divine Ritual.
His gaze fixes on the crumpled pink paper lying on the floor. The Other Self moves. Not walking, but displacing air like a stone dropped in honey. His golden kimono doesn't rustle; it absorbs silence. He crouches, picking up the pink candy paper—his Kokoro's answer.
His dark fingers, traced with glowing gold lines, brush the cheap, rough sheet. The paper shivers, softens, and bleeds color. It blooms upward, unfurling into a perfect, velvet-pink rose, its stem thornless and cool against his palm. Its scent sweet as candy and floral.
He holds it close to his chest before turning to the Mononoke. Her spectral form flickers, the torn uniform and bruised neck momentarily visible beneath the dissolving crimson cloak.
The Other Self speaks, not with Kusuriuri's layered cadence, but with a voice like wind through mountain pines—deep, resonant, and utterly final. "Your truth is known. Your pain is seen. Rest now."
He raises Ri. The blade isn't drawn; it unfolds like dark origami, revealing edges that drink the light. A single, graceful arc cuts through the air—not at Rikoko, but through the clinging resentment binding her. There's no scream, only a sigh like dry leaves settling. The red cloak dissolves into motes of dull red light that fade like dying embers. Rikoko's spirit stands transparent and whole, the bruise gone from her neck.
She looks at the pink rose in the Other Self's hand, then at Motokuro cowering behind the fading barrier. A sad, fleeting smile touches her lips before she dissolves into soft pink sakura petals that drifts upward and vanishes into thin air.
The world snaps back. The oppressive chill vanishes, replaced by the mundane smells of old soap and damp tile.
"My kiku," Kusuriuri stands before you, Ri sheathed at his hip, his light teal kimono perfectly ordinary. Only the rose in his hand remains—real, velvety, and smelling sweet.
He steps close, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than usual. Without a word, he tucks the stem carefully behind your ear, his fingers brushing your temple. The petals feel cool and surprisingly sturdy against your skin.
Motokuro stares at the spot where Rikoko vanished. His trembling stops, replaced by a hollow stillness. He picks up the broken frames of his spectacles, the lenses shattered like his denial.
"I... I'll go to the authorities," he whispers, his voice raw. "Tell them everything... where she lies. In the garden. Beneath the cherry sapling." He doesn't look at either of you as he shuffles out, shoulders slumped under the weight of confessed guilt.
You both watch him leave.
Later, beneath a twilight sky streaked with lavender, you stand with Kusuriuri in the academy’s neglected garden. The cherry sapling Motokuro mentioned is thin, barely taller than you, its young branches stark against the fading light.
The freshly turned earth beneath it is dark and damp. Kusuriuri produces a simple stick of incense from his sleeve, lights it with a flick of his fingers, and plants it firmly in the soil. The sweet, woody smoke curls upward, mingling with the cool evening air.
You clasp your hands, close your eyes, and offer the only prayer that feels right: "Rest in peace, Rikoko. May your soul find kinder gardens." The incense smoke swirls around your ankles, smelling of sandalwood and something softer—like pressed flowers forgotten in a book.
When you open your eyes, Kusuriuri is already turning away, his geta silent on the path. You catch up, falling into step beside him. Your hand finds his, warm and sure, as you walk away from the school yard.
No words needed to be said. Kusuriuri's hand tightened around yours as you walked, a rare anchor in the drifting twilight.
Heyy I saw your requests are open and I wanted to request ri kusuriuri x reader where the reader gets hurt and our dear medicine seller tends to them both physically and emotionally. And can't help but say I love your works on kusuriuri and how you add folklore elements to your fics. Have a nice day!!!
Fandom: Mononoke | モノノ怪
Relationship: Medicine Seller/Reader
Characters: Medicine Seller (Mononoke), Reader
Word count: 1532
Notes: Yakubyōgami are a class of evil spirits which can cause infectious diseases, injury, and misfortune.
The Medicine Seller moved through the forest like a misplaced stitch in the landscape. His geta sandals crunched faintly on the dry pine needles, the sound swallowed by the immense quiet of the woods. He carried a wooden gyosho bako on his back, its compartments rattling softly with each step.
A faint, medicinal scent clung to him—herbs and incense.
"Who stitches the sky?" he murmured, stopping abruptly. His eyes scanned the canopy where sunlight fractured through pine boughs. Below, partially obscured by ferns, lay a crumpled form. Dark fabric blended with the shadows, but the unnatural angle of a leg betrayed the injury. Blood seeped into the moss, stark against the green.
He knelt silently, the wooden box settling beside him with a soft thump. Long fingers probed the shattered ankle beneath torn silk hakama trousers. The injured individual gasped, eyes fluttering open—dark, dilated with pain. Recognition flickered briefly before agony clouded your gaze again.
Kusuriuri didn't speak. He simply opened a compartment, selecting vials of viscous liquid and folded cloths smelling sharply of antiseptic herbs.
Cool liquid washed over the wound, drawing a sharp hiss. The medicine seller's touch was precise, almost detached, yet each movement minimized suffering. He bound your ankle tightly with clean cloth, immobilizing it with deftly applied splints fashioned from nearby fallen branches. Only then did his gaze meet yours, holding it with unsettling intensity.
"The bone remembers its shape," he stated, his voice low and resonant in the forest stillness. "Pain is the thread pulling it back." He offered a small, dark paste on a wooden spoon. "Eat this. It quiets the screaming." You swallowed it obediently, the bitterness making you grimace, but a strange warmth bloomed almost immediately, dulling the sharpest edges of agony.
He shifted, surprisingly strong arms lifting you effortlessly against his chest. The scent of dried mugwort and something faintly like ozone clung to his kimono. "We move," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for protest. "This forest listens to spilled blood." His gaze swept the deepening shadows beneath the trees, sharp and assessing.
The silence suddenly felt watchful and oppressive.
He carried you towards a moss-covered plinth half-hidden by ferns—remnants of an ancient shrine long forgotten. Setting you down gently against the cool stone, he swiftly unpacked his gyosho bako. Unusual instruments emerged: small charms with wings, strangely folded papers inscribed with symbols that seemed to writhe, and a vial containing liquid that shimmered like trapped moonlight.
"The wound is deep," he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined your ankle again. "But deeper still is the shadow clinging to this place."
His fingers brushed the air just above your injury, tracing invisible lines. "The Mononoke stirs," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "It tasted your pain." He met your eyes, his own impossibly ancient and calm. "To heal the body, we must first name the thing that broke it."
You flinched, the memory of the fall flooding back—not just slipping, but a sudden, icy dread that seemed to pull your ankle sideways. "It felt... hungry," you whispered, voice raw. Kusuriuri nodded, flanking the talismans. The symbols pulsed faintly.
"A Yakubyōgami," he confirmed.
The forest air thickened, pressing down like damp wool. Shadows pooled unnaturally around the ancient plinth, coalescing into a shifting shape with too many limbs. Empty sockets focused on your bandaged ankle. Kusuriuri didn't hesitate.
He placed talismans with sigils onto your ankle binding, a low hum vibrated through the stone plinth. The surrounding shadows deepened, coalescing into a formless shape near the tree line.
Kusuriuri didn't look up. "Focus on the warmth," he instructed, his tone steadying. "The medicine binds your flesh; the sigils bind its hunger. Hold onto the warmth." The humming intensified, pressing against your ears like a physical weight.
The medicine seller stood abruptly, facing the encroaching shadow. He drew his short sword, "Speak its truth," he commanded, his voice cutting through the noise.
"What was forsaken here?" You stared past the swirling darkness. Images flickered—a weathered stone lantern cracked and moss-covered, a forgotten silk offering ribbon bleached grey by seasons, and a deep loneliness seeping into the roots.
"I was..." you choked out, understanding dawning. "Left injured... waiting. No one came."
The kan no mushi's form solidified: a gaunt figure with a shattered leg, weeping dark tears of rot.
The demon head on Kusuriuri's sword clicked its teeth. "The Form is revealed: kan no mushi," he declared. "The truth is spoken: death in abandonment. The Reason..." He paused, his cerulean eyes meeting yours, a flicker of unexpected warmth beneath the ritual's gravity. "...is severed."
A figure appears once the sword is unsheathed—a man with sun-kissed skin clad in gold robes that ripple like liquid metal. His eyes are crimson shrouded in black, and his hair is like snow. He holds the blade, its edge a roaring flame that casts dancing shadows on the baked earth. This other self moved with a predatory grace, sword raised high and ready.
The Yakubyōgami recoiled, its formless shadow tightening into the gaunt traveler shape, weeping rot-dark tears. "Severed?" it rasped, its voice the creak of a broken branch. "Hope festers eternal in isolation." It lunged, tendrils grasping for your ankle.
The medicine seller's other self intercepted the strike, his blade flashing upward. Light met shadow with a sound like tearing silk, and the Yakubyōgami shrieked—a high, keening wail that shook the ferns.
"Eternity is a chain," the warrior-self stated, voice low. He pivoted, driving the creature back with precise, economical strokes. Each parry forced the Mononoke further from the plinth, away from your vulnerable warmth. The bronze mirror, forgotten on the stone, reflected only the struggle: the warrior's hair whirling like storm clouds, the Yakubyōgami's form fraying at the edges.
With a final, decisive thrust, the warrior plunged his sword into the center of the weeping shadow. The blade flared with a soft, blue-white light. The mononoke dissolved not with a scream, but a sigh—like wind through long-dead leaves. The oppressive weight lifted instantly; the forest sounds returned—birdsong and the rustle of squirrels in the canopy. The warrior vanished as Kusuriuri resheathed his sword, leaving only the familiar Medicine Seller kneeling beside you once more.
He placed a cool hand gently on your forehead, checking for fever. "It is done," he murmured, his voice regaining its usual detached resonance, though his eyes lingered on yours with a trace of that shared understanding. "The chain is broken. Rest now. The forest holds only silence." He adjusted the splint binding your ankle, his touch firm yet careful, ensuring the medicinal warmth still pulsed steadily beneath the cloth. The bitter scent of herbs was clean now, purged of the clinging rot.
With the mononoke now vanquished, you felt safe enough to notice the ache in your ankle had softened to a dull throb. The medicine seller stayed by your side, unpacking dried herbs and a small iron pot. He lit a small fire beneath the pot using flint and dried moss, the flames casting flickering light on his impassive face. Soon, steam rose, carrying the sharp, clean scent of willow bark and ginger.
He poured the steaming infusion into a wooden cup. "Drink," he instructed, holding it to your lips. The liquid was bitter but warming, spreading through your limbs like liquid sunlight. "The bone mends faster when the spirit is calm." His gaze, usually distant, held yours with focused intensity. "Focus on the warmth, not the memory of the fall."
Outside the shrine ruins, the forest sounds—birdsong, rustling leaves—felt ordinary again, no longer charged with malice.
Days blurred into a rhythm of quiet healing. Kusuriuri changed the poultice daily, applying fresh pastes that smelled of earth and pine resin. He fashioned a sturdy crutch from a fallen branch, sanding it smooth.
"Strength returns slowly," he observed as you practiced hobbling near the plinth. "Patience is part of the remedy." He spoke little, but his presence was a steady anchor—checking your fever, ensuring you ate, his movements precise and unhurried. The forest, once terrifying, became a backdrop of dappled sunlight and distant bird calls.
One morning, you took several unaided steps. Kusuriuri watched, his head tilted slightly. "The forest path awaits," he said, a rare hint of approval in his tone. He repacked his gyosho bako, the instruments clicking softly. "Your spirit is mended." He offered his arm for support as you both stepped onto the sunlit trail. The lingering dread was gone, replaced by a quiet gratitude.
You walked slowly beside him, the ache in your ankle a fading echo, knowing his care had woven the frayed edges of your fear back into peace.
I was wondering if you could do a Kusuriuri x fem reader smut ( if you don't fem just do gn!)
Could you make reader loving the color pink and just loves playing with Kusuriuri hair and sometimes puts bows on his hair or anywhere on his outfit!
You can make any scenario you like just the smut part having consent💗
Thank you if you write this!!!
Category: F/M
Fandom: Mononoke
Relationship: Medicine Seller/Reader
Additional Tags: established Relationship, domestic fluff, romance, smut warning
A consent sigh escapes Kusuriuri's lips as nimble fingers comb through his ash-blonde hair—an unusual indulgence he allows only for you.
Your pink kimono sleeve brushes his cheek while you hum, securing another ribbon above his temple. He observes your reflection in the polished wood of his Gyosho bako (peddler's box). The way your brow furrows in concentration, tongue peeking between teeth. Your obsession with bows and other cute things amuses him.
A rare softness touches his usually impassive face. He considers the paradox: a being who deals in monstrous truths finds warmth in your simple joy. You tug gently on the finished bow, grinning at your handiwork framing his sharp features. His stillness isn't reluctance; it's savoring the unfamiliar comfort.
"Does it bother you?" you ask, smoothing a stray lock. Your voice holds a playful lilt, but a flicker of genuine curiosity shines through. He feels the slight tremor in your fingers against his scalp—a silent vulnerability mirroring shyness.
"Annoyance is a luxury I seldom afford," he murmurs, the low rumble vibrating through your touch. His reflection shows the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Your... enthusiasm is... unexpectedly grounding." The admission hangs between you, stark against the quiet room.
Your hand stills on his shoulder. The playful atmosphere shifts, thickening with unspoken understanding. You lean closer, your breath warm near his ear, pink silk whispering against his dark robes.
"And grounding...?" you prompt softly, the question hanging like incense smoke. He turns, slowly, deliberately, meeting your gaze. The distance closes not with urgency, but with the quiet inevitability of shared consent. His hand lifts, fingertips brushing the silk at your waist, an answer written in the deliberate grace of his movement.
His usual detachment dissolves, replaced by a focused intensity that feels like sunlight through stained glass—warm and strangely intimate. Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the subtle shift of muscle beneath skin as he leans into your touch. The pink ribbons woven into his hair become anchors, tangible proof of this fragile intimacy.
He murmurs your name, a sound deeper than his usual pronouncements, carrying the weight of acknowledgment and a silent question: Is this truly what you seek?
Your response is wordless. You guide his head gently back against your shoulder, your lips finding the sensitive skin beneath his ear. A low hum vibrates in his chest, resonating through you both—a sound of pure, unguarded sensation. His hands slide beneath your kimono, palms warm and calloused against the smooth skin of your hips, pulling you firmly onto his lap. The intricate folds of your pink silk tangle with the stark black of his hakama, a visual echo of the joining unfolding.
The world narrows to the shared rhythm of breath, the slide of silk, and the press of skin. There’s no grand declaration, only the profound simplicity of mutual desire met. He moves with deliberate slowness, every touch deliberate, every shift of his body against yours a testament to his focused attention. His gaze holds yours, unwavering, as deep as the mysteries he unravels, yet filled now with a startlingly human warmth. The quiet room holds only the soft sounds of movement and breath, charged with an intimacy as profound as any truth he’s ever uncovered.
You're just too adorable—a burst of pink against his shadowed existence. His fingers tighten on your waist as you shift, silk pooling around his thighs. "Grounding," he repeats, voice roughened. "Like roots finding purchase in barren soil."
Your giggle vibrates against his neck, bright and unexpected. He captures your chin, turning your face to his. "This," he murmurs, thumb tracing your lower lip, "is a truth I wish to know deeply."
His kiss isn't hesitant—it's deliberate, a slow exploration that feels like deciphering sacred text. You sigh into him, hands sliding from his shoulders to tangle in the ribbons woven through his hair. He breaks away just enough to watch your eyelids flutter. "Still," he asks, the word a low thrum against your mouth, "do you consent?" Your nod is frantic, pressing closer until the wooden floor bites your knees.
He eases you back, guiding your hips until you straddle him fully. Dark fabric parts beneath your trembling fingers, revealing taut skin beneath. His breath catches—not from nerves, but from the sheer novelty of being wanted.
Your pink sleeve brushes his chest as you lean down, whispering, "Show me." His hands map your spine, unhurried, learning the arch of your back as he lifts your kimono higher.
Cool air kisses your thighs before his warmth replaces it. He pauses, palm flat against your stomach, feeling the frantic flutter beneath. "Breathe," he instructs softly—not a command, but a shared ritual. You obey, exhaling shakily as his fingers dip lower, testing your readiness with agonizing care. A choked gasp escapes you when he finds your center, slick and welcoming.
His eyes lock onto yours, pupils wide. "Yes?" he confirms, knuckles brushing your inner thigh. You bite your lip, nodding again. "Then," he murmurs, guiding himself against you, "we begin."
The room is soon filled with the soft sounds of skin against silk, breath turning shallow and rhythmic. His movements are deliberate—methodical as any exorcism—yet charged with an urgency that surprises even him. He watches your face intently, cataloging every flutter of eyelashes, every bitten lip, and the way your fingers twist in the pink ribbons still tangled in his hair.
When you gasp, arching against him, he murmurs, "Focus," grounding you both in the shared heat. His hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer until there’s no space left for doubt or distance.
You move together like a ritual perfected over lifetimes—slow, then urgent, then achingly slow again. His thumb traces the curve of your hipbone beneath silk, a silent question. "More?" he asks, voice rough. You nod, words lost to sensation as he shifts angles, drawing a sharp cry from your throat. He captures the sound with his mouth, swallowing it like a secret. Beneath the layers of mystery, his touch is startlingly human: calloused palms on your thighs, the tremor in his own breath as you tighten around him.
Time unravels. The gyosho bako gleams dully in the corner, forgotten. Your pink kimono hangs half-open, pooled at your waist like fallen petals. He studies the flush spreading across your chest, the sweat beading at your temple—a map of pleasure he’s learning by heart. "Look at me," he commands softly, and when your eyes meet his, dark and dazed, he smiles—a rare, unguarded curve of lips.
"Good," he breathes, hips driving deeper. The ribbons slip free from his hair, drifting to the floor like discarded prayers.
Release crashes over you both like a wave against rocks—inevitable, shattering. You shudder against him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he groans your name, a sound raw and stripped of ceremony. He holds you through the aftershocks, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. In the sudden quiet, the only truth left is the warmth of skin and the faint scent of your hair—sweet, like plum blossoms.
He shifts you gently, laying you back onto the cool tatami floor. Your pink kimono fans out beneath you, stark against the dark grain. His gaze travels the flushed lines of your throat, the damp curve of your collarbone. A single ribbon, loosened during your movement, drifts onto your chest. He plucks it up, twirling it slowly between his fingers—a splash of color against his pale skin. His voice, when it comes, is softer than silk:
Hi, could you please do a Ri kusuriuri/reader where it turns out they're having a baby and they're panicking because, you know, I don't think our medicine salesman is a human, it's more likely a kitsune or something (I really like that theory), and I don't think they were expecting to have one, they probably thought it was impossible? I know it doesn't seem like it from the request but could you do it with a lot of fluff and a happy ending? I have a lot of things to say to you but this is short.
Expecting |Ri!Kusuriuri x Fem!Reader|
How could this happen?!
Well, you were aware of how it happened but never thought it would actually occur.
Lately, you had been feeling unwell. Exhausted, nauseous, and your appetite had become increasingly... selective.
Kusuriuri, your ever-observant husband, had picked up on your sudden behavioral changes. Before long, you found yourself vomiting every morning, unable to keep even the lightest breakfast down.
Initially, he suspected you might be falling ill, a worry that intensified as your symptoms lingered. However, when he noticed your belly starting to round slightly, his eyes widened in disbelief.
You were pregnant.
The realization struck both of you like an unexpected summer storm. In the tranquility of your wooden home, nestled within the thick forest, the weight of your condition hung heavily in the air. The medicine seller had always been a man of mystery to you, a man who carried his own secrets. Now, the unimaginable had happened: a child was growing inside you, a fusion of the human world you were familiar with and the supernatural realm he navigated so skillfully.
Kusuriuri gently placed his hand on your bady bump. His gaze searched yours, seeking any hint of fear, but instead, he found a curious blend of intrigue and worry.
You never truly believed that you and Kusuriuri could create a child. The idea seemed as absurd as a river flowing uphill. Yet here you were, with a bump forming beneath your kimono, as tangible as the sun's warmth on your skin. The implications were staggering, and you couldn't help but ponder what traits the child might inherit from its father—his sharp intellect, his remarkable ability to interact with Mononoke, or perhaps something even more... extraordinary.
You had always accepted that your lover was not human. Yet, the reality of carrying a child who could potentially inherit his supernatural qualities filled you with both excitement and anxiety. The whispers of the forest grew louder in your mind, resonating with stories of beings born from such unions.
Some were revered, others feared.
Kusuriuri held your hand tightly, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. His expression was a tapestry of emotions—love, wonder, and a hint of concern. "We will face this together," he said firmly, his voice a balm to your racing thoughts. "Our child will be loved and protected, no matter what." His words brought warmth to your heart, dispelling the shadows of doubt that had been creeping in.
Your worries didn't vanish overnight, but Kusuriuri's unwavering support made each day a little easier. He tended to your every need, making sure you had the right foods to ease your queasiness and helping you rest when fatigue overtook you. His care was meticulous and tender, a stark contrast to the sternness he often displayed when dealing with the malevolent mononoke.
As the weeks turned to months, your belly grew round and firm, a clear indication of the new life growing within you. You still accompanied him on adventures throughout Edo, but your pace had slowed, and your steps grew more cautious. Kusuriuri's eyes never left you, his gaze filled with a fierce protectiveness that seemed to ward off any potential danger.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in a warm glow, you felt a gentle flutter against your palm. You looked down, placing your hand on your belly, and felt it again—the first movement of your unborn child. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you looked up at Kusuriuri.
He had been busy preparing a herbal tea, but at the sound of your voice, he spun around, his gaze searching your face. "What is it, my Kiku?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
You managed a smile through your tears, placing his hand on your belly. "Feel," you whispered. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he didn't move.
Then, a soft, almost imperceptible nod from you, and his hand began to move with the same tender curiosity as the flutter within. The moment the baby's movement reached his hand, his expression lit up like the first light of dawn.
Together, you sat on the tatami, his arms around you, feeling the life growing inside of you. The room was filled with a quiet awe that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the air. Kusuriuri spoke softly, his words a gentle murmur against your ear.
"Our child is healthy," he said, affection in his voice. "It wouldn't be long, my love."
You nodded in agreement, snuggling closer to Kusuriuri as the fire crackled in the irori. The warmth of his embrace was a comfort as you felt the baby's movements become more pronounced. Each flutter and kick brought a new sense of reality to the situation. This was happening. You were going to be a mother.
It matters not if your baby was a hybrid; you'd love him or her just as much, and Kusuriuri would too. This child was a gift, a bridge between two worlds, and you felt a swell of pride knowing that you were carrying it.
Content, you tilt your head up and kiss your husband, feeling his softness in contrast to the firmness of his jaw. The kiss was gentle, a silent promise of love and protection. You knew the journey ahead would be fraught with unknowns, but with Kusuriuri by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the fates had in store.
Author's Note: This is Part 2. If you're new or haven't read Part 1, please go check it out. Anyway enjoy, comment, and follow! (ありがとう!♡)
After losing to Kusuriuri, yet again, in a game of Go, you felt a peculiar blend of frustration and affection.
Not wanting to admit defeat, you challenged him to yet another game. This time in a game of Shogi. You figured you'd have more luck with the complex strategy and speed required in Shogi, but it seems your luck hasn't changed.
The pieces on the board danced in a silent battle, and once more, Kusuriuri's smug smirk grew with each of your falters. His teasing glances and gentle taunts only added fuel to the fire of your competitive spirit. Each time he took one of your pieces, you felt a sting of defeat, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.
He looked up from the board, his amber eyes twinkling with amusement. "Checkmate. Looks like I win again, my Kiku," he declared, as he captures your king.
You stared at the board in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. How did you lose again? The pieces lay scattered, a silent testament to your defeat. Kusuriuri's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he took in your flustered expression.
"But... I... when did you...? How?!" Your exclamation as you scrutinize the Shogi board.
Each piece seems to mock you from their positions, a silent testament to Kusuriuri's tactical brilliance. He leans forward, his arms crossed against the table, and his long dark nails tapping lightly on the wooden surface. The lamp light casts shadows across his stupidly handsome features, highlighting the smug smile playing on his painted lips.
"You're so easy to read," Kusuriuri chuckles, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Your moves are predictable that I'm beginning to think you enjoy the taste of defeat," he teased.
Your eyes narrow, and you can't help but feel a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as he says that.
"I didn't expect my lovely Kiku to be such a masochist."
You felt your cheeks warm up, not just from embarrassment, but also from the frustration of losing yet again.
"I am NOT a masochist," you growled, pushing away from the board, your hands curling into fists. "I just want to beat you at something!"
"Is that so?" He leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Then what do you say we play another game?" His voice had dropped to a low, seductive purr, his gaze intense.
The room felt hotter suddenly, and you realized that the tension wasn't just from the game. The air grew thick with something else entirely. However, you refused to be distracted from your quest to win.
You shook your head stubbornly. "No, I demand a rematch!"
Kusuriuri's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing with what could only be described as dissatisfaction. "*Sighs*... If you insist," he said.
He reached out and began resetting the pieces, his movements swift and precise. You watched him for a moment, his fingers gliding over the smooth wooden figures, before your own hand reached out to stop him.
"And don't you dare go easy on me. I-I will beat you," you said firmly, your voice a little shaky.
Kusuriuri scoffs. Those amber eyes, eyeline with purple and red, slowly glanced up at you, glittering with humor. "As if I ever would," he says, his tone playful.
Despite your self-confidence, you were practically melting on the spot as Kusuriuri's gaze held yours. You felt your resolve wavering, but you steeled yourself and focused on the task at hand.
Releasing his hand, you watched him intently as he finishes setting up the Shogi board.
"Well, my Kiku. Shall we begin round 2?"
Your heart races as Kusuriuri's words cut through the thickened air. You nod, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. You sit up straight, placing your hands on the Shogi pieces, ready to play. This time, you swear you won't let him win so easily.
As always, the game was intense with you and Kusuriuri's pieces moving swiftly across the board. You tried to expect his every move, but his strategic brilliance remained unmatched. The sound of the pieces clacking together echoed through the room as you both became lost in the silent dance of war. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you studied the board, your mind racing to outwit him.
Kusuriuri's smirk never wavered as he observed your every play, his eyes flickering with amusement. His fingers hovered over the pieces, stroking them lightly as if caressing your skin. The tension between you grew palpable, a potent mix of competition and the unspoken desires simmering beneath the surface.
The game progressed, each move calculated and swift. The clatter of the pieces grew louder with your agitation, but Kusuriuri remained unflappable. His gaze was a gentle caress, his eyes never leaving yours for more than a brief second to survey the board. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, both on and off the battlefield of the Shogi board.
The moment he placed his knight piece near your king, you felt the noose tightening around your throat. The room grew smaller; the pressure mounting with each of his calculated moves. Your eyes darted around the board, searching for an escape, a glimmer of hope to turn the tide in your favor. But no matter where you looked, you saw only the inevitable.
Your defeat was swift and decisive, the king falling prey to his strategic mastery once more. With a dramatic flourish, Kusuriuri announced checkmate, his voice a velvety whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but face-plant on the table in despair, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat of your embarrassment.
"Why Gods... why is this happening?" You mumble into the wooden tabletop, feeling the heat of your embarrassment spreading through your cheeks.
The room seems to spin around you as the weight of your failure sinks in.
You heard Kusuriuri move as he rounds the table and towards you. You're pulled into his embrace before you know it, his warm hands gently lifting your face from the table. A childish whine escapes your lips, and you feel his chuckle resonate through his chest.
"My poor Kiku," Kusuriuri's voice was a soothing balm to your bruised ego as he holds you in his arms, the smell of incense, cherry blossoms, and ink surrounding you.
You automatically leaned into his embrace, the warmth of his body a comfort against your frustration. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing the strands of hair out of your face with care. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your cheek, a rhythm that seemed to sync with your own erratic pulse.
"I hate you," you whimpered. Though you didn't actually mean it. You just felt so utterly defeated.
"Hm, I don't think I've ever heard that one before," Kusuriuri said, his tone thick with sarcasm while his thumb stroking your cheek gently.
"But if it's any consolation, I admire your tenacity," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm and smelled faintly of mint, a scent that was uniquely his. His arms tightened around you, and you couldn't help but melt a little into his embrace.
"Unfortunately, I've grown bored with this game," Kusuriuri murmured, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. "How about we play a different game?"
Was he serious right now?! After what felt like an eternity of playing and losing, he'd still wanted to play another game with you?
You're not sure your pride can take another beating, but his gentle touch and the hint of something more in his voice were hard to resist. "What game?" you ask, your voice muffled by the fabric of his kimono.
"One without competition," Kusuriuri replied, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. His eyes searched yours, the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smile. "A game of... strategy, where the outcome is already assured."
"What?" You questioned meekly, your curiosity piqued despite your embarrassment.
You felt his fingers trace the line of your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes was unmistakable, the heat there unbearable.
"A game of love, my Kiku," Kusuriuri whispered, his eyes smoldering. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, and you felt your pulse quicken.
The tension in the air shifted from competitive to something more intimate, something that had nothing to do with board games and strategies.
You blinked, your cheeks still flushed from the sting of defeat. "Love?" you echoed, your voice small and unsure.
"Mm," Kusuriuri hummed, his eyes never leaving yours. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip again, a silent invitation that sent a thrill through your body. "Where the only prize is the pleasure we share."
Your face immediately heats up as if you just eaten a chili pepper. Love and pleasure?... He can't possibly mean....
Sadly, you didn't get the chance to finish that thought because you quickly squealed upon his lips against your neck. Sharp canines lightly nipped your skin, and you couldn't help but gasp as a jolt of pleasure shot through you.
Pulling back, Kusuriuri's eyes gleamed with excitement at your reaction.
"And as the victor of our little game, I demand my prize.♡"
A/N: hurray, I finally wrote a lemon about this guy, and i couldn't be happier. Hope you enjoy!♡
The shoji to the living room slides open. "Kusuriuri," you say, entering the room.
You see your husband lying on the floor with one hand supporting his head and the other turning the pages of the book he's currently engrossed in. He looks up at you, his eyes glowing with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.
"What is it, my Kiku?" The low rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine as you approached and kneel in front of him.
You swallow your nerves and speak softly. "There's something I've been thinking about, something I want to try with you tonight." His blue eyes, now filled with curiosity, meet yours as he sets the book aside. You continue, "I want you to be... your other self when we make love." Kusuriuri's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but before he can say anything, you quickly add, "I want to love all of you, every part of who you are."
He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a knowing smile, he says, "Hoh. The Divine, you mean?" His voice is gentle, but you can feel the caution underlying it.
"I don't know. That form - that version of me... He can only exist when the Sword of Exorcism is unsheathe. His only true purpose is to banish malevolent Mononoke," he explains.
You nod, your gaze never leaving his. "I understand that... But I figured that if I'm to be your wife, I should love you completely, even the sides of you that are meant for battle. Besides," you lean in closer, whispering, "I want to know what it's like to be loved by the other."
Kusuriuri snorts. "What? Am I not enough to satisfy your needs?" He asked curtly. Though he hadn't meant to sound offended, you can tell he's slightly hurt. You place your hand gently on his cheek.
"Yes! You are plenty to satisfy me," you tell him, your voice laced with sincerity and affection. "But I want to love all of you, my medicine seller. Not just the part of you that's a loving husband, but the part of you that's a fierce warrior as well. The part that fights to keep this world safe from mononoke."
Kusuriuri looks at you intently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. "The Divine... He is... intense," he warns you, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "He... is strong, rough, and unyielding. He's not like me in that way. I'm worried that you might not be able to handle him."
You can tell he's hesitant, but your resolve doesn't waver. You nod solemnly. "I know he is, but I trust you. I trust him! I'm not asking neither to hold back. I want to love him just as much as I love you."
Kusuriuri sighs, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek. "You truly are a remarkable woman," he murmurs. "However, you are foolish. You do not know what it is you're asking of me, my Kiku. Or the dangerous game you are playing." He pauses briefly, his gaze staring into yours both intently and affectionately and then continue.
"But if it is your wish, I shall grant it," he says, his lips forming a smirk. "Just remember... you asked for this. Whatever happens... is beyond my control."
You couldn't stop the smile that spreads across your face, feeling a thrill of excitement and a hint of nervousness. "Thank you, Otto," you say before leaning in to kiss him. Kusuriuri shudders at the honorific, and for a moment, you can feel the essence of another presence within him.It begs to be unleashed - to feel you, to claim you.
And it is intense.
It had heat and urgency to it, the kind of passion that could only be found in a love that had grown over two and a half years of hunting mononoke and tender moments.
Pulling away, you watched Kusuriuri lick his lips, his gaze darkening with desire. "Wait for me in the bedroom," he says, his voice a deep growl that sends a shiver down your spine. "And wear something nice."
You nod eagerly and retreat to the bed chambers, your heart racing with excitement for what's to come. Opening your wardrobe, you select a kimono that would be suitable. It's a red with delicate white abstract patterns scattered across it. The fabric is silky and light, hugging your body in all the right places, and it hangs off your shoulders just low enough to show cleavage.
You slip it on, the coolness of the silk sending a shiver through your body. You tie it loosely, leaving a gap down the middle that allows you to move freely. Sauntering over towards the futon, you sit down, your legs folded beneath you, and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. The anticipation is palpable, making the air thick with desire.
Moonlight streams through the paper walls of the bedroom, casting a soft glow over the space as you wait for him. The air charged with an electric tension that makes your skin prickle. You wait patiently for your husband to come and join you.
As the minutes tick by, you can feel your excitement and nervousness building. You've never been with Divine before, and you do not know what to expect. But you trust Kusuriuri, and you want to experience all facets of the man you've chosen to spend the rest of your life with. Both he and the Divine are two halves of the same coin, and you wanted to love both of them equally.
The quiet of the night is disrupted by the sound of the shoji sliding open. You feel a presence enter the room, and your heart leaps into your throat. You don't dare look back, focusing instead on the soft sound of his footsteps approaching you.
You feel the futon dip under his weight as he sits behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against his firm chest. You gasp as his warm breath tickles your ear. He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispers, "Are you ready for this?" His voice is deeper, more primal than Kusuriuri's, and you can feel the power of his alter ego resonating through his body.
You take a moment to glance down at his arms that's wrapped around your waist. Unlike Kusuriuri, who is pale, Divine had a darker skin tone, almost as if kissed by the sun. You lightly traced the golden markings aligning his skin, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.
Evidently you nod, your voice a bare whisper. "Yes, shujin. I'm ready."
His arms tighten around you, and you can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a wild rhythm that matches the racing of your own. He leans in closer, his warmth enveloping you like a second skin. His nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, as if to memorize your scent.
"Might I suggest a safe-word?" He murmured, his voice a gentle rumble. "If it becomes too much, I will stop immediately." You think for a minute, trying to come up with a word that you're unlikely to say in the heat of the moment. "Koi," you breathe, and you feel him press his lips against your neck.
Divine nods, pleased with your reply as his hands slide up to your shoulders, pushing the kimono down to reveal your collarbones. He kisses a line down to your shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin."You look beautiful, my Kokoro."
His heart.
"It's a shame it has to come off," Divine added, his voice a seductive murmur that sends a thrill through your body. He carefully unties the sash of your kimono, allowing the fabric to slip down your body. It pools around your waist, leaving your upper body exposed to his hungry crimson gaze.
You feel a tremble of anticipation as his hands explore your bare skin, tracing the lines of your shoulders and collarbones before moving to cup your breasts. His touch is firm, his fingers teasing your nipples until they tighten into peaks. You arch your back, offering yourself to him fully, feeling a wetness growing between your legs.
"Nngh..." You moaned as Divine's skilled hands roamed over your body, eliciting reactions you never knew possible. His thumbs circled your nipples, and his other hand trailed down your stomach to the apex of your thighs, teasing the damp fabric of your underwear. The anticipation was almost unbearable, your body aching to be claimed by him.
With a swift movement, he lifted you off the futon and laid you down. He spreads your legs, settling himself in between them. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh as he leaned over, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss. His tongue danced with yours, demanding and possessive, as if he was claiming every part of you.
Divine's hand trailed down your body, his hand pushing your panties aside, eager to feel your heat. You moan into his mouth as he dips a finger inside, testing your readiness. He smirks, feeling how wet you already are for him. He pulls away, leaving you panting and desperate for more.
"Already wet and I barely even started," Divine chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of arousal and satisfaction. He kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and light nibbles that make you squirm. His finger inside you moves with a steady rhythm, coating itself in your slickness before pulling out and tracing lazy circles around your cl!t. You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out too loudly.
His hot tongue licks around your breast before he takes the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. You gasp, arching off the futon. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. His fingers pump into you, curling and stroking until you're writhing beneath him.
"Ahhh~♡" You moaned as Divine's expert touch brought you closer and closer to the edge. His teeth grazed over your nipple, the sharpness of his fangs a stark reminder of his other form, but it only excited you more. You feel his hand pull away from your drenching p***y, which was then followed by fabric ripping. He tears panties apart, exposing you completely to the cool air of the room. He doesn't bother to remove it entirely, instead leaving it there.
"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he hurriedly unties the red obi of his kimono, the fabric giving way, revealing his firm, muscular chest. His erection is prominent, straining against his hakama, and you can't help but stare at it, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Divine's hand moves to the ties, letting his hakama fall open to expose his cock. It's thick and veined, and you feel a surge of wetness at the sight of it. He leans over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he lines himself up with your entrance.
He leans over you, his long white hair falling around your face like a curtain. "Remember," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, "you wanted this. It's not too late to use your safe-word."
You shake your head, your eyes locked with his red gaze. "I regret nothing," you affirm, your voice trembling with desire. "I love you... I love you both."
To show him you mean it, you wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him and making the tip of his cock probe your entrance. He groans at the sensation, and you can feel his control slipping. "Shujin," you whimper, "please..."
Divine's eyes burn with desire, the intensity of his gaze setting your skin on fire. Without another word, he pushes into you, filling you completely. You gasp as you adjust to his size, your nails digging into the futon as he moves. His strokes are deep and powerful, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You've never felt this full before, this alive. Kusuriuri's lovemaking is tender, but Divine's is raw and primal. It's like being claimed by a force of nature, and you can't get enough of it. Your body responds instinctively, hips rising to meet his every thrust.
"Ahn... Mngh..." You couldn't form coherent words as Divine's cock stretched and filled you, the sensation overwhelming. His movements were unlike anything you've ever experienced with Kusuriuri. Each thrust was powerful and unrelenting, claiming you in a way that was almost violent but oh so satisfying.
Now you fully understand what Kusuriuri meant by "intense." He rams into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room as he claimed you with a ferocity that seemed almost otherworldly. Your body quaked under his, the pleasure bordering on pain but never quite crossing over. You could feel your climax building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.
"My Kokoro," he groans, feeling your inner walls tighten around him as you near climax. His grip on your hips tightens, long red nails digging into your skin; his rhythm growing more erratic as he f**ks you with everything he's got. The sound of your moans and his grunts fill the room, mingling with the rustling of the futon beneath you.
"I'm cumming, shujin!♡" You scream out your release, your body trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure that crashes over you. Divine's strokes become more frantic, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he, too, reaches the precipice.
Warmth floods your insides as the man above you collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding against your chest. You feel the sticky wetness of his release inside you, and for a moment, you just lay there, trying to catch your breath.
Divine's weight is a comfort, his muscles relaxing as he kisses your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice still deep and gruff with desire.
You nod, your hands tracing patterns on his back. You are his, just as he is yours.He pulls out slowly, and you feel a bit of sadness that the moment is over, but he quickly turns you onto your side, pulling you into a spooning position. The afterglow of your love-making fills the room, the only sound being the two of you trying to calm your erratic breathing. You can feel his heartbeat slowly returning to normal as he holds you tightly, his hand resting on your stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. His other hand plays with the strands of your hair, gently stroking and tucking them behind your ear.
Divine whispers sweet nothings into your ear, words of love and ownership that make you feel cherished. His fiery eyes are now gentle, filled with a love so intense it's almost overwhelming. You snuggle closer into his embrace, feeling more connected to him than ever before.
He lightly trails a finger down your spine, making you shiver, and you can feel his cock already erected again. You smile to yourself, knowing that you're not the only one who enjoyed this union. You whisper back, your voice hoarse from the passionate cries of ecstasy, "I'm yours, shujin, forever."
Divine's eyes darken at your declaration as he leans in, kissing you softly, his tongue darting out to taste you again. The kiss deepens, and before you know it, you're both lost in the passion again. His cock, now fully erect, presses against your stomach, leaving a wet trail of pre-cum.
You look into his eyes, almost pleasingly. He smirks, as if reading your thoughts. "Are you up for another round, my Kokoro," he asked, his voice thick with desire. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.
The last thing you remember was the feeling of him sliding back into you, filling you completely once more. Unfortunately, somewhere in the intense moment, you (reluctantly) had to use your safe word, unable to handle the intensity of his lovemaking. But he had been gentle, reassuring, and had brought you back to the edge before plunging you over again once you rested.
"Aren't you going to make a move, my Kiku?" Kusuriuri's voice was smooth as silk, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned closer to the board. His nearness made your heart race, and you could feel the warmth emanating from his body.
You glanced down at the Go board, your white stones outmatched by his strategic black formations. You knew you were defeated, but you couldn't bring yourself to admit it.
"I... I think I'll pass this one," you murmured, fidgeting with the folds of your kimono. You couldn't help but feel a little frustrated at how easily he had maneuvered his pieces, trapping yours in a merciless dance of conquest. Kusuriuri's smile grew wider, his amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Are you sure? There's still time to turn tables," Kusuriuri said, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to echo in the quiet room.
You felt your cheeks flush as he traced a gentle finger over the delicate line of your jaw, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
You knew he wasn't just referring to the game anymore. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, you're lost in the depth of his gaze. It was like looking into an abyss, filled with secrets and promises you weren't ready to explore.
"L-liar," you mumbled through grit teeth, trying to keep your composure. "You know there's no way out for me." Your hand hovered over the board, the warmth from your palm almost scorching the delicate wooden surface.
You could feel the tension building between the two of you, as palpable as the electricity in the air before a storm.
Kusuriuri chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, sending waves of heat through your body. "Ah, but that's where the real fun begins, isn't it?" He leaned in closer, his breath a whisper against your ear. "The art of surrender, the sweetness of defeat♡." His words played with your senses, making it difficult to focus on the game or even form a coherent thought.
You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his proximity made your heart flutter like a trapped butterfly. "This isn't fair," you protested. "You're using your... your charms to distract me!ꐦ"
But even as you spoke, you couldn't deny the allure of his words, the way they painted a picture of submission that seemed almost... appealing.
The sly fox-like still plastered on his painted lips grew into a full-blown smirk, and his eyes gleamed with victory. He knew he had you right where he wanted. "Is that so?" He murmured, his hand reaching for a black stone, poising it above the board. "But isn't that the essence of Go? To anticipate your opponent's moves, to out-think, and sometimes, to outfox?"
Your eyes narrowed in a mix of annoyance and fascination. You knew he was right, but you weren't about to let him have the last word. "Fine," you huffed, placing your hand firmly on the board, claiming your territory. "I concede this round." You leaned back, folding your arms over your chest, the fabric of your kimono rustling with the motion.
Kusuriuri's smirk softened into a knowing smile as he placed the black stone down, sealing your fate. "As expected from my clever Kiku." He said, his voice dropping to a murmur that sent shivers down your spine.
You mentally screamed at the sappy nickname. (Kiku being Japanese for "chrysanthemum.") It has become his affectionate term for you ever since you started playing these games with him, and it never failed to leave you both exasperated and endeared.
Yet, it's still sweet to know he sees you as a flower of beauty and value.
"Would you like to try again?" He leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours.
You thought about it. To play again meant you get to spend more time with him - to be close to him, to challenge his wit, and maybe even get a chance to beat him next time. Plus, the way he looked at you when you played was something you couldn't quite resist. It was like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him at that moment besides slaying Mononoke.
But it also meant risking more of your dignity and possibly falling even deeper into his trap. With a huff, you stood, your legs aching from sitting in Seiza for an hour.
"I... I need a moment." You turned away, trying to compose yourself.
His lustful gaze followed you as you slipped into the adjoining room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. After opening the shoji and stepping out into the hall. You leaned against the nearby wall, listening to the rustling of the wind through the cherry blossom trees outside and trying to steady your racing heart.
Kusuriuri's teasing was so infuriating, yet oddly thrilling. How could you resist playing with him again when he made losing feel like winning in so many other ways?
"Curse him," is all you can think as you take a deep breath.
You run your fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face as you try to clear your mind. You know he's just playing with you, using the game as a pretext to flirt and tease, but somehow it's working.
You can still feel the imprint of his finger on your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your neck. It's maddening, and you know he's aware of it. The games he plays never fail to leave you feeling both irritated and intrigued.
Hey! I have a question, I saw your list, and I saw Kun Kusuriuri. I thought it was Kon Kusuriuri, correct me if I'm wrong, it's just that I've been seeing people use Kon Kusuriuri. I'm just a bit confused 😅
What I heard. "Ri" and "Kun" are the names of their swords. The fandom affectionately uses them as names for the two Medicine Sellers, who don't actually have names to go by. "Kun" is also sometimes written as "Kon." Ri-Kusuriuri is the 2007 Medicine Seller so the fandom refers to him as "Mentor." Kon-Kusuriuri is 2024 Medicine Seller and is referred to as "Student".
Personally, I like to call them Raito (Light) and Kuroi (Dark), which is referring to their color schemes. But hey, that's just me.
Since it has already been implied that Kusuriuri is a Kitsune, is a the Taima Ken Exorcism Sword a Tsukumogami?
What are Tsukumogami?
Tsukumogami are inanimate objects that receive a soul after they have served their owner/s for 100 years, thus becoming alive and self-aware. This phenomenon is often seen in Japanese folklore, where various objects such as clothes and weapons are believed to transform into sentient beings. These Tsukumogami are said to possess memories of their past lives and can exhibit personalities and emotions similar to humans. It is a fascinating concept that blurs the line between the animate and inanimate worlds, adding a touch of mysticism to everyday objects.
I believe Kusuriuri's sword may be a Tsukumogami, imbued with a soul and consciousness. This theory adds an intriguing layer to Kusuriuri, his supernatural abilities, and the mystery surrounding his character. If the sword of exorcism truly is a Tsukumogami, it would explain why it can speak and levitate.
The crisp autumn air whispered through the maple trees, casting a veil of golden leaves upon the serene landscape.
The crisp autumn air brushed against your face as you made your way up the winding path to the old Shinto shrine on the mountainside. The vibrant red and orange leaves rustled gently, creating a soothing melody that guided your steps. A Miko or Shinto shrine maiden, you are, with your pure white kimono and red hakama pants, a testament to your devotion to the Kami.
However, today, your heart was filled with a different kind of devotion as you made your way up the winding path to the old temple on the mountain. A mix of anticipation and nerves flows through you, for this was the place where a particular kitsune, a fox yokai, resided.
Kyojuro Rengoku, with his mesmerizing golden eyes and mischievous grin, captured your heart long ago.
As you approached the temple, you could feel your pulse quicken. Clutched in your hands was a basket filled with Kyojuro's favorite treat: Satsumaimo (Japanese sweet potatoes), their aroma wafting through the crisp autumn air. You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and stepped through the red torii gate, the sacred entrance to the temple.
Kyojuro?!" You called out, looking around temple grounds "Are you here?"
A rustling sound in the wind caught your attention, and suddenly, a handsome young man with golden eyes, fox ears, and a fox tail emerged.
(Y/n)!" Kyojuro exclaimed, his fiery hair shimmering in the fading sunlight as his expression lit up with delight at the sight of you.
"You've come to visit me once again. I'm overjoyed to see you!"
You felt your cheeks flush as you approached him, the basket of sweet potatoes held out in front of you. "Of course. Anyway, I brought you your favorite," you said.
You definitely didn't miss the way his golden and red eyes widened in delight as a grin stretched across his lips.
"Your thoughtfulness is a gift in itself, my sweet flame!♡" He said, his voice rich and melodious.
Your heart flutters at the nickname, and you feel his fingers brushing against your hand as he takes the basket.
After a moment of silence, you mustered the courage to speak the words you'd been longing to say as you took a deep breath, your eyes shining with emotion.
"Kyojuro, there's something I need to tell you."
Kyojuro tilted his head, a curious expression crossing his features. "What is it?"
"I... I love you," you finally confessed, your face on fire as you continued. "I've loved you for so long, and I can no longer keep it to myself."
Kyojuro's eyes widened, and a moment of stunned silence passed between you two. Then, a radiant smile blossomed on his handsome face, and he reached out to cup your cheek while being mindful of his claws as not to accidentally scratch your cheek.
"I love you too, my sweet flame. More than you could ever know."
Without another word, Kyojuro's lips met your in a passionate, tender kiss. The world around them faded away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the warmth of your love as the autumn leaves danced in the gentle breeze and the Kami themselves blessed your union.
As the two of you parted, you gazed up at Kyojuro, your eyes shining with tears of happiness. "I never dared to hope that you would feel the same," you murmured.
"Believe it, my love," Kyojuro replied, his voice joyous and tender. "You have captured my heart, and I am forever yours."
In that moment, you knew that your love for Kyojuro was as eternal as the changing of the seasons and that you love had blossomed, ─ a testament to the power of the heart to find its true companion, even amidst the enchanting mysteries of the Shinto realm.
Hand in hand, the two lovers walked through the temple grounds, their laughter and whispers of affection mingling with the gentle rustling of the autumn leaves.
Hey. Sorry if I'm distracting. I would like to request a kusuriuri/reader yandere. I know the yandere theme has already been touched upon, but I would be interested in reading a specific plot involving the use of "medicines" on the reader. tysm in advance, love your writings!
A/n: No words can not describe the things I've written for this. Honestly, a Yandere!Medicine Seller/Kusuriuri scares me(😨). But hope you enjoy.
⚠Warning!⚠ This story contains sensitive topics, and may not be suitable for sensitive readers. Reader discretion is advised.
The Apothecary's Obsession |Yandere!Kusuriuri x Reader Oneshot|
Kusuriuri gazed upon your sleeping form, his heart swelling with a twisted adoration. You're his everything, his reason for being, and he would stop at nothing to ensure you never left his side. As he watched your chest rise and fall, a sickening sense of possessiveness consumed him.
With a careful hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering on her soft skin. "My beautiful (Y/n)," he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous affection.
"You'll never leave me, will you?"
Reaching into the obi of his kimono, he produced a small vial filled with a translucent liquid. Gently, he tilted your head back and parted your cherry blossom lips, allowing a few drops of the concoction to trickle into you mouth.
You stirred slightly, but remained in your deep slumber.
"Shh, my love," he soothed, cradling you in his arms. "This is just a little something to help you rest a bit longer." He pressed his lavender lips against yours, savoring the taste of you, his embrace tightening possessively.
When you finally awoke, you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the small minka (a traditional Japanese house). Kusuriuri was by your side, a gentle smile on his face, and holding a tea cup and saucer in his lap.
"Good morning, my dear," he said, offering you the steaming cup of tea. "You've been sleeping a lot as of late, so I made you some special medicine to help keep your energy up," he lied.
"Drink up."
"Oh, thank you, Kusuriuri," You accepted the cup, your brow furrowed in confusion. "I... I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope I'm not coming down with head-cold," You said.
Kusuriuri chuckled softly, his hand caressing her cheek. "If you are, then I'll take care of you, my love. But perhaps you're just simply exhausted. Now, drink your tea and rest."
Voluntarily, you sipped the tea, the warm liquid soothing your throat. As the minutes ticked by, you felt a familiar drowsiness settle over your, your eyelids growing heavy.
"That's it, my dear," Kusuriuri murmured, pulling your close. "Sleep now, and when you wake, everything will be alright~♡"
Succumbing to the "medicine's" effects, you drifted off, unaware of the twisted obsession that consumed your lover.
Kusuriuri watched over you, his embrace tightening possessively, Carefully, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss. "You are mine, (Y/n)," he whispered, "and no one else will ever have you." He adds, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity.
"I'll make sure of that."
As you slept, Kusuriuri prepared a second remedy, one that would ensnare you very being to him. He poured the liquid into your mouth, ensuring that every drop was consumed before gently shaking you awake.
"Wake up, my love," he murmured, his fingers tracing the contours of your face.
Your eyes fluttered open, and you gazed blankly up at Kusuriuri suddenly feeling a newfound adoration.
"Kusuriuri,♡" you breathed, your voice dripping with love and desire, "I love you. I love you so much!♡"
Kusuriuri smiled, his plan unfolding perfectly. The remedy he'd given you was similar to a love potion. "And I will always be here for you, my dear. Forever and always."
And so the cycle continued, with Kusuriuri making medicine for you whenever he feared you might stray, his love for you twisted into a dark, unbreakable obsession. In his (twisted) mind, he was the only one who could truly care for you, the only one who could keep you safe and loved.
As the sun set on the small wooden minka, the shadows seemed to grow longer, reflecting the darkness that had taken root in Kusuriuri's heart. And you, oblivious to the true nature of your lover's affection, continued to sleep, trapped in a nightmare from which you could not escape.
Hihi~!!! I saw your Eternal Sorrow, and it was truly amazing and heartbreaking 💔. Soooo can I request funny stories of Kusuriuri with his wife. Like maybe she drunk and is basically like, "If we dont kiss, the world will explode," or funny embarrassing moments that happened to them, maybe they got caught by room service. It's all up to you, of course! I just was funny and embarrassing moments between them!! TY, Love your work ❤️
Little Misadventures |Kusuriuri x Wife!Reader (Drabble)|
Kusuriuri often found himself in the midst of peculiar situations, but none quite as amusing as the escapades he shared with his darling wife. Their bond, forged through a shared love of the supernatural and a penchant for mischief, often led them down unexpected paths, much to Kusuriuri's occasional dismay.
One particularly memorable evening, the couple found themselves in a cozy ryokan, nestled in the heart of Kyoto. You, ever the adventurous spirit, had insisted on trying the local sake, unaware of the potent effects it would have on your delicate constitution.
"Kusuriuri, my love," you slurred, your cheeks flushed with the warmth of the alcohol. "If we don't kiss right now, the world will explode!" You leaned in, your eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and inebriation.
Kusuriuri, ever the composed individual, found himself caught off guard, his usual stoicism crumbling in the face of his your unexpected antics. "(Y/n), my dear, I hardly think that's necessary," he said while gently trying to dissuade you.
"Besides, it appears you had a little too much to drink tonight. You need to rest," He added.
"But I ain't sleepy, dad," You say before collapsing onto the tatami floor.
Sighing, Kusuriuri gently pulled you up before hooking an arm around your waist and under your legs, and used all his strength to lift you up bridal style.
He really needed to get you to bed.
You lazily tilted your head back against your husband's shoulder as your world spun on around in little circles. Quiet giggles bubbled from your lips as you raised your arms in the air.
"Yippee~!" You chortles, as if you were on a carnival ride which made Kusuriuri roll his eyes─all while the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips, despite having to carry you.
"Aw, ride's over already," You complained once he laid you down onto the futon.
"Yes, you need rest." He tells you, but was taken aback by you wrapping your arms around his neck.
"But darling~♪" She slurred softly, "I'm feeeeling frisky! Annnd I love you soooo much~♡"
You soon began peppering his neck with kisses which then turned into light sucking and kitten licks. Kusuriuri grunts, feeling shivers run down his spine upon feeling your little canines nip at his skin, which he knew would leave love bites tomorrow.
"You taste like chocolate. I'm gonna eat all the chocolate... I love chocolate." You chuckled.
"No, my wife! You are drunk. You need yo lay down and rest." He says, removing your arms from him.
However, he couldn't stop the blush that tinted his cheeks as your kimono slowly came undone, as it slid off your shoulders, revealing your chest and cleavage.
"But Kusuriuri, I don't wanna! I wanna have fun," You whined.
Unwittingly, you raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking both your ankles together, trapping him.
"C'mon, play with me," you plead, before slowly grinding yourself against his pelvis.
"Stop it (Y/n), not like this. You need to sleep this off." He scolds, pulling your legs away only for you to then throw a leg over his shoulder.
He never would've thought you could be very persistent when drunk.
"Eehe, sleep is for the sheep," You giggled.
Suddenly, the playful exchange was soon interrupted by a knock as the shoji slid opened, revealing the inn's maid.
"Room service─Oh!" Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the couple in a rather compromising position.
You, oblivious to the intrusion, continued your playful advances, much to Kusuriuri's dismay.
"S-sorry!" The poor woman apologized and quickly closed the door back.
Once she'd left, Kusuriuri sighs. "How unfortunate," he chided, though the corners of his lips betrayed a hint of amusement as he scuffles his troublesome drunken wife.
The next day, the couple found themselves in the midst of a Mononoke hunt. As you Kusuriuri navigated the dense forest, your kimono gets on a spiky stray branch, ripping a hole in the delicate fabric and revealing your underwear underneath.
You squeak, your face flushing with embarrassment, as you quickly tried to cover yourself. However, you caught your husband staring as Kusuriur quicklyi averted his gaze, though the subtle twitch of his lips suggested he was struggling to suppress a laugh.
"Kusuriuri, this is not funny!" You cried, your mortification palpable.
"Of course not, my dear," he replied, his tone diplomatic, though the mirth in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "I'll fix it later. Right now, let us focus on the task at hand and see to the Mononoke."
As the sun set on yet another eventful day, Kusuriuri and his wife found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts full of the memories they had made – a testament to the fact that even the most seasoned exorcist can't escape the occasional, and often hilarious, misadventures of life.
Can I request a Kusuriuri (2007) x fem reader, where it's full on angst plus no happy ending. Maybe where the reader and Kusuriuri broke up or something on a bad note, and she turned into a mononoke. In the end, when she still hates Kusuriuri, maybe like 'I hope I'll never meet you in my next lifetime' (your choices on the last words!!)
I want to bawl my eyes out from crying.
Love your work💗, you don't have to do this request if you don't want to. TY :D
A/n: Ayo, why did you have to go and ask me to write this😭💙⁉ I had to listen to some phonk just to power through it. You asked for it, so here it is.
Seriously through, this was fun to write, despite It being sad. Hope you enjoy♡
⚠Trigger Warning!⚠ for graphic depictions of suicide.
Eternal Sorrow - Kusuriuri x Reader Oneshot (Angst)
The rain poured down relentlessly, casting a somber mood over the Shinto shrine. You stood there, your (e/c) eyes red from endless tears, your heart shattered into a million pieces. Your once vibrant and lively persona had been reduced to a shell of your former self, all because of one man – the enigmatic Medicine Seller.
Or Kusuriuri as you used to affectionately call him.
Your relationship had been a whirlwind of passion and intensity, with moments of pure bliss and unbridled joy. From the first spark of attraction to the deep bond you had formed, everything seemed perfect. But as time went on, differences emerged and challenges arose that tested the strength of your love. Miscommunications turned into arguments, and trust slowly eroded away and the once bright future you had envisioned together began to dim.
"I can't do this anymore," you had said, your voice quivering with emotion. "I can't be with you, not when you're so distant and unattainable. I need someone who can love me, who can be there for me, and you... you're just not that person."
And then, in a sudden and heartbreaking turn of events, it all came crashing down in a devastating finale that left you feeling hollow and alone.
Kusuriuri had stood there, his face betraying no emotion, his cerulean eyes as cold as the rain that fell around your. "If that's how you feel, then so be it," he had replied, his words like a knife to your already bleeding heart.
Now, as you stood alone in the shrine, you knew that there was only one way to end the anguish that consumed you. You had lost everything – your love, your happiness, and most importantly... your very reason for living.
Kusuriuri had been that very reason.
He had been your truth ever since you agreed to accompany him on his travels across Edo, help him fight against the Mononoke, and eventually, vowed to be by his side forever.
With a heavy heart, you made your way to the shrine's inner sanctum, where you would perform Seppuku, a form of ritual suicide. The air was thick with the weight of the moment as you knelt before the altar, the sliver blade of the wakizashi glistening in the dim light. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and whispered one final prayer, feeling the gravity of your decision weighing heavily on your soul as you raised the sword above your head.
Your last thought had been of him - Kusuriuri as your grip on the blade tightened. Tears of sorrow, angst, and hatred streamed down your face as memories flooded your mind.
You remembered the days spent together, the laughter, the love, and the pain. The betrayal that had led you to this moment now seemed like a cruel twist of fate, and as you prepared to take your own life. The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in the silence of the shrine, a steady rhythm that seemed to guide you towards the inevitable.
With a steady hand, you raised the blade and made a swift, decisive cut, feeling the sharp pain as darkness engulfed you.
The warmth of blood trickling down your abdomen brought a strange sense of peace as you slumped forward, the world fading in and out of focus. In your final moments, you could almost hear the whispers of ancestors surrounding you, guiding you towards the next life.
"I hope I'll never meet you in my next lifetime, Kusuriuri. I don't think I could bear the pain of your rejection again."
In that moment, your spirit was transformed, becoming a Yūrei.
After your death, Kusuriuri had been nonchalant, but deep down, he was racked with guilt and remorse. He had loved you more than he had ever loved anyone, but his own emotional distance and inability to truly open up had been his undoing.
Days later, as he stood before your marked grave, Kusuriuri could no longer hold back his emotions. Tears streamed down his face as he knelt before the headstone, his hand trembling as he reached out to trace the engraved letters of your name.
"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "I never meant to break your heart. I never meant to cause you so much pain. If only I had been a better friend, a better lover, maybe you would still be here with me."
Suddenly, the air around him seemed to shift, and Kusuriuri felt the presence of a powerful, restless mononoke. He knew it was you, still tethered to this world by the intensity of your hatred and anguish.
He already knew your shape... your reason... and your truth!
With a heavy heart, he unsheathed his sword, transforming into his other half, Hyper! He could feel the weight of your spirit pressing down upon him, your rage and sorrow palpable in the air.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so sorry for everything."
And with a swift, precise movement, the he thrusts his sword and exercised your restless spirit, finally freeing you from the torment that had consumed you.
As the cherry blossoms continued to fall, the Medicine Seller stood there, his eyes fixed on the grave before him. He knew that he would never be able to atone for the pain he had caused you, and that your memory would haunt him for the rest of his days.
But in that moment, as he felt the weight of your spirit lift, he knew that he had done the only thing he could – he had given you the peace you had so desperately sought. And as he turned to leave, Kusuriuri allowed himself to weep, his tears mingling with the cherry blossom petals that fell from the trees.
Since you do demon slayer and mononoke, can I request a demon slayer reader x Kusuriuri/medicine seller. I heard that he's a kitsune, and I saw that kitsure are equated to demons. So, like the reader is trying to kill Kusuriuri's, but he always manages to escape her attempts (kinda like a cat and a mouse game), and it slowly starts to become a relationship (Maybe he saves her from a strong Mononoke, its up to you lol). Of course you don't have to do this, love your work! ♥️♥️
A/n: This was fun to write. Though I did have a hard time trying to fit Kusuriuri in the Demon Slayer universe. I honestly don't think he would fair against Muzan and his demons since they're basically still humans and Kusuriuri only fights against Mononoke. I am also not good at writing something like a Tom & Jerry chase scenario so forgive me if this doesn't meet your standards.
Anyway, I hope you like, comment, reblog (only if you want to), and enjoy!
Encounter - The Medicine Seller x DemonSlayer!Reader [ᴍᴏɴᴏɴᴏᴋᴇ x ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱʟᴀʏᴇʀ: ᴋɪᴍᴇᴛꜱᴜ ɴᴏ ʏᴀɪʙᴀ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱᴏᴠᴇʀ]
Your Kasugai crow had informed you hours ago to head west. You obediently followed its guidance, sprinting as quickly as you could until you arrived at the rural mountain village where a peculiar string of disappearances and murders had occurred.
During your investigation, you're informed by the residents that a mysterious man has been spotted roaming the streets after dark and leaving behind a number of strange ofuda (paper tailsman) on people's doors and was carrying a box on his back.
He had arrived like the wind, proclaiming to be a medicine vendor, and was last seen wandering down the old pine forest road.
Despite the fear that gripped the neighborhood, no one could say for sure who this mysterious man was or what his intentions might be.
You weren't too surprised. As a Kanoto-ranked demon slayer, you were certain that this so-called "medicine seller" is the demon responsible for kidnapping and killing people.
Though it's likely the vile fiend wasn't as powerful as a Kizuki member, you knew not to underestimate any demon─regardless of their rank.
After all, even lower-ranked demons could prove to be formidable opponents if not dealt with carefully. As you set out to hunt down the demon behind the gruesome acts, you made sure to prepare yourself for whatever challenges may come your way. With your trusted blade and unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever horrors awaited you in the shadows.
When nightfall came, you opted to patrol the streets and wait for the man to strike so you could slay him. You had already instructed your crow to call for backup immediately in case things were to go wrong.
You didn't survive in the Demon Slayer Corps for this long without a good reason. It was your duty to protect the innocent and rid the world of evil, no matter the cost. And you were more than willing to fulfill that duty, even if it meant putting your own life on the line.
Thus, the hunt was on!
At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened, and it was so quiet that you had to fight to remain conscious. Luckily, your time on Mount Fujikasane forced you to always remain on your guard while on missions.
Suddenly, the tap of wooden geta caught your attention, and when you snapped your head towards the sound, you saw a man with a purple bandana tied around his head and carry a strange box on his back.
The box reminded you of the one your friend Tanjiro Kamado uses to carry his little sister Nezuko.
His skin is very pale, his ears are pointy, and he has sharp canine teeth and dark blue eyes. His hair is dirty blonde and he is dressed in a vibrant kimono. Red markings outline the outsides of his eyes, with teardrop shapes underneath. He appears to be smirking, but it's actually because of a purple mark on his upper lip.
He, in fact, didn't appear to be human at all! Surely he must be the demon going around murdering people.
You gripped your katana tightly, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you stared down the strange man before you.
Before you could even think twice, your body reacted instinctively, fluid and precise, as you lunged forward with the intent to behead the perceived demon.
"I have you now, demon!" you declared, voice laced with a mixture of determination and a hint of bloodlust as you unsheathed your nichirin blade.
It was a game of cat and mouse, with you relentlessly pursuing the stranger, driven by your conviction that this man was a demon that needed to be vanquished.
The stranger, however, seemed unfazed by your aggression, and with a brief glance, he turned and fled, disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Without hesitation, you gave chase, your feet pounding against the forest floor as you pursued the fleeing figure.
As the chase continued, the stranger seemed to effortlessly weave through the dense foliage, his movements fluid and graceful. You, however, refused to be deterred, your determination fueling your every step.
"You can't run forever, demon!" You shouted, your voice echoing through the woods.
The stranger remained silent, focusing on his escape. You could feel the frustration building within you, your desire to catch the elusive figure growing stronger with each passing moment.
Suddenly, the stranger took a sharp turn, disappearing behind a thicket of trees. You followed suit, your katana raised and ready to strike. But as you reached the clearing, the stranger was nowhere to be seen...
"Wh-what?" You quickly scanned the area, your senses heightened, searching for any sign of the fleeing demon.
"What is this demon you speak of?" Said a voice from behind you.
Startled, you quickly swung your sword back. However, the stranger skillfully intercepted your strike, effortlessly catching the blade between his index and middle finger.
"I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else." With a quick flick of his wrist, he makes you lower your katana, and you can't help but snarl.
"I am not a demon, but a medicine seller," the stranger continued, his voice calm and soothing. "I am simply passing through," he tells you.
Despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The stranger's words seemed too good to be true, and his demeanor was too composed for someone who claimed to be innocent.
You scoffed, unable to contain your skepticism. "Yeah right. Are you seriously expecting me to believe that?"
The stranger's smile remained unwavering, and his expression betrayed no hint of offense at your disbelief. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and was prepared to face your doubts head-on.
You stepped back, putting some distance between you two, before gripping and raising your katana once more. "With that appearance, anyone can see you're not human," you add, and you launch at him again.
The medicine seller was quick as he countered your attack with a weapon of his own. His blade was sheathed, with the saya (scabbard) being unlike anything you've ever seen. The hilt had the appearance of a komainu that's commonly found in Shinto shrines. And you could swear it clicked its teeth at you.
That's not normal.
You hesitated, unsure of what to make of this eponymous stranger who seemed to be more than meets the eye. However, you were finding it hard to believe his words.
"I understand your doubts, little demon slayer," the medicine seller said, his voice soft and suave. "But I assure you, I'm no demon, just a medicine seller, and my intentions are of no ill-will." He reassures.
"Besides, you should know not to ever judge a book by its cover."
"I..." You balk. "I don't trust you," you muttered, eyeing him warily as you tightened your grip on your own weapon, ready for any sudden moves.
The medicine seller merely chuckled. "Trust is a luxury not easily afforded in our line of work," he replied cryptically, his tone still gentle. "But rest assured, I am here to help, not harm."
Despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The Komainu hilt seemed to mock you with its silent gaze, adding to the mystery surrounding this enigmatic figure before you.
"However, if you wish to kill me, then I am afraid I'd have no choice but to defend myself," he warned, his eyes never leaving yours.
In one swift movement, his weapon clashes with yours, knocking you back some. You attempted to use your Wisteria Breathing technique to counter his attack, but he was already one step ahead, effortlessly dodging your moves with a smirk on his face.
You couldn't help but admire his agility and skill.
As your little fight of keep away continued, you couldn't help but wonder about the true intentions of this enigmatic man.
Was he truly here to help, as he claimed, or was there more to his story than met the eye?
The way he moved with grace and precision was a clear indication of his expertise in combat, making it clear that you were facing a formidable opponent.
Frustration started to consume you as you observed that he showed no intention of drawing his sword or harming you in any way.
"Are you affiliated with Kibutsuji Muzan?" you inquired, seeking clarity.
"Muzan...?" The medicine seller tilted his head, looking puzzled.
"Y'know? The Demon King?" You prodded, trying to jog his memory.
"Hmm, I never heard of him," he responded. "Is he Mononoke?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Oh wow, perhaps he is telling the truth about not being a demon, especially considering his unfamiliarity with Muzan.
You stopped attacking him and took a step back, feeling a mix of both relief and confusion. The medicine seller's genuine expression and lack of recognition of the name Kibutsuji Muzan made you question your assumptions.
Maybe he truly was not connected to the demons in any way. As you observed him closely, you noticed there wasn't a rank or number etched in his pupil, indicating that he's not a member of The Twelve Kizuki.
Despite his bizarre, non-human appearance, you couldn't help but believe him as you took your sword and sheathed it. The medicine seller, seeing this, puts his weapon away as well, tucking it into the obi of his kimono.
The tension in the air dissipated slowly as you considered the possibility that the medicine seller was not your enemy after all. His demeanor, now that you had stopped attacking him, was one of peaceful contemplation.
"So, you're not a demon?" You inquired.
"As I said before, I'm a humble medicine seller just passing through," he restated.
"Are you the one responsible for putting those strange tailsmans on people's doors?"
"Yes," he answered in earnest.
"Why?" You prressed further, wanting to understand his motives.
"To protect people from mononoke," he explained. "They're vengeful spirits that feed off negative emotions, do things like possess individuals, and make them suffer, cause disease, or even death."
"Oh!" You're surprised at this, as the medicine seller continues.
"I use my knowledge and abilities to fend off the mononoke until I can learn the spirit's shape, truth, and reason. Only then can I unsheathe my blade and kill the spirit." He said, gesturing to the seemingly sentient sword in his obi.
"So, you're like me but a ghost hunter?" You asked, now both intrigued and amazed, as stars twinkled in your eyes.
The medicine seller chuckles, "Sort of."
You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that the medicine seller was actually not a threat. The initial fear and tension that had gripped you just moments ago now seemed like a distant memory.
"That's so cool, Mr. Kusuriuri-san," you commented, and he smiled at the name.
Soon, you felt a twinge of guilt for attacking him earlier as you lean forward and bow. "Please forgive me, Kusuriuri, for trying to kill you," you apologized.
"I was quick to judge you without knowing the whole story," you added, feeling a sense of regret for your actions.
But the medicine seller simply chuckled and reassured you that he held no grudges.
"It's okay, little demon slayer. It is a common reaction when faced with the unknown," he reassured you, his tone gentle as always. "You were simply doing your job. I understand it's your solemn duty to protect humanity from this Muzan and his army of demons."
You blushed upon feeling his hand pat your head, a gesture that conveyed both approval and reassurance. In that moment, you felt a surge of gratitude towards him for his understanding. It was a reminder of why you had taken on the mantle of demon slayer in the first place—to safeguard the innocent and uphold justice in a world threatened by Muzan and his demons.
It seems both you and Kusuriuri share a common goal. You, a demon slayer, and he, a mononoke hunter, both seek to rid the world of dark forces that threaten the balance.
"So, what are the mononoke you're hunting, Kusuriuri-san?" You soon asked him.
"They are ikiryō (live spirits) and are the restless souls of the villagers who have been slaughtered by the demon you've been summoned to seek and destroy." He tells you.
"Really?"
"Yes," Kusuriuri nods. "The demon is their truth, but unfortunately, my abilities are futile against such a fiend. So, I'm in need of your aid, demon slayer. If you kill the vile demon, only then can I vanquish the ikiryō, so that they may find peace." He explains.
As you mulled over Kusuriuri's words, you realized the fate of the village rested in your hands, and the lives of the innocent villagers hung in the balance.
And so, with determination coursing through you, you smiled before agreeing to lend him your aid.
"Thank you," Kusuriuri murmured as he then informed you where the demon was hiding.
You were ready to confront the demon and bring peace to the restless souls.
