Hello! I saw your work and decided to make a request. Do you mind AU? The thing is, I wanted to make a request about Douma from my AU.
In my AU, he is a slayer. His level of strength and skill is that of a Hashira, but he is not a Hashira himself (he was offered the opportunity to become a Hashira, but he refused). He uses Ice Breathing. He is a very calm, gentle, and relaxed person, but he has a great intellect (yes, he can feel emotions in this AU). However, he keeps some of his emotions under control through regular meditation. Douma always goes on missions alone, never accepting help from anyone. No one knows about his origins or why he decided to join the Demon Slayer Corps. He has been asked many times, but he has consistently avoided answering these questions (in this AU, he left his cult).
And a little bit of my headcanons. His hands are cool to the touch. But they're not exactly icy. Sometimes you can feel a pleasant coolness coming from him. Douma can track demons by their emotions (similar to how Tanjiro can distinguish others by their scent and Zenitsu by their sound). He's a VERY bad joke (and it annoys others). It's extremely difficult to anger Douma, and he doesn't care what others think or say about him.
In this work, I would like Fem!Reader to try to find out why Douma joined the slayers, and why he always acts alone, since she is his close friend (yes, he also hides details of his life from her). Although he has reasons in my AU, I want to let your imagination run wild.
That's all for now. If you have any questions or need any help, please don't hesitate to contact me! Thank you so much and have a nice day!
~Behind Those Rainbow Eyes~
Demon slayer! Douma x Fem! Slayer Reader
A/N: Omg hi! Wow, this was such a detailed request- but I loved every minute of it?! I love au’s so much, and I HAD to write this one! It’s pretty long, sorry about that :’) but it was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Blood, affairs, mentions of killing demons. Nothing crazy :)
Douma was certainly a interesting man. Well, at least, you believed so. Before you actually got to know him, of course.
He was well known in the demon slayer corps- a friendly face, if you will. No one had anything negative to say about him. He was always so calm, gentle, and kind. Even in battle as he ruthlessly killed many types of demons- pitying them as he sliced off their heads with his luxurious golden fans, the lovely gold stained with the heinous crimson of a demon.
A strong, feared slayer. Hashira level, offered by none other than Kagaya Ubuyashiki. But for some reason unbeknownst to you and the other Hashira, he refused.
You remember it clear as day, every word spoken between the two.
“Douma-San. A beloved child of mine,” Ubuyashiki spoke with such grace and in a gentile tone, as he usually did. Interesting how the head of a corps meant to destroy demons would have such a angel of a leader. “You have proven yourself worthy many-a-time. Killing not one- but two upper ranks.”
You and the other Hashira sit behind Douma, listening eagerly. It was not common for a slayer to be offered the position of a pillar, often happening every three-four years. Despite this, you watch happily as your now friend- sits a few inches in front of you with a laid back expression upon his pale face.
“Yes, Oyakata-Sama. I am overjoyed to hear that from you. Thank you.” He makes an attempt to bow down, but Ubuyashiki stops him with a simple hand in his direction.
“No need for that, my child. Rise, and hear my words.”
Douma does, without a falter.
“You have proven yourself as a strong slayer. Which is why- as of today, I offer you the position of the Ice Hashira.”
You cup a hand over your mouth, as you look at the other Hashira near you. Them being calm as they watched. You then turn your attention back to Douma, who you had noticed was clenching the fabric of his uniform with a very calm face.
But his words would shock you, and the others, to the very core.
“While I appreciate the offer, Oyakata-Sama,” He pauses, bowing down- smile never fading. “I must refuse.”
The room was silent, minus the few gasps and murmurs, mostly from Mitsuri. It wasn’t long before Douma had headed out the main mansion, heading to his own, you assumed.
Since that day, many speculations began to storm around Douma. Nothing negative, only the usual skepticism on why he refused the Oyakata-Sama, calling him rude for such an act.
But Douma never cared. Well, that was what you took from your conversation with him a few days after the controversial meeting.
“Douma-San!” You approach him with a smile, steps faltering when he turns to stare at you with a ‘hm?’ noise. When he notices you, he smiles as he waves back.
“Ah, hello!” He approaches you, giving you a signature hug he usually used to greet you, Rengoku, and Mitsuri. Sometimes Shinobu, but she would usually slap him right after.
But his touch was always cold as death.
He, of course, blamed it on his so called anemia.
“Oh dear, didn’t I tell you to just call me ‘Douma’? How I loathe the honorifics.” He shuts his eyes as he whips out one of his golden fans, fanning himself with such dramatics.
“Right, apologies. Not used to that yet.” You awkwardly laugh, rubbing the back of your head with a hand. “Anyways, walk with me? I wanted to catch up.”
He accepts, without a complaint. As usual.
“Oh, how I love nature. I pity the demons who cannot see the sun! Such a lovely sight, wouldn’t you agree?” He taps the top of your head with his fan as he goes on about his love of nature.
But you had other things in mind.
“Douma..” You pause, stopping mid walk as you gaze at the cobblestone ground. He turns to you, once more as he looks at you with curious eyes.
“Why did you.. why did you refuse to become a pillar?”
You cannot see it, but you can almost feel Douma’s breath go sharp.
Their is a pregnant silence, as all you can hear is the chipper of birds and the sound of the small waterfall nearby. Before Douma speaks,
“You don’t ask small, do you? Well-“
“Do you know what people have been saying?” You sit down on a nearby stone bench, resting your hands on your lap as you recall the gossip. “They’re saying you’re weak. That you have too much pity for demons-“
“Don’t ‘darling’ me. You can’t just… refuse such an offer! Douma, we could have become a team. I know you always hunt alone, but-“
The use of your name sent shivers down your spine. Douma was never mean, never spoke in sharp tongue, but he did have his moments of occasional seriousness. Which didn’t happen often. He wasn’t easy to annoy- or anger. But whenever he seemed irritated, it sent a chill up your spine.
You backed down, although with a grumble.
It’s almost like a switch goes off in him, as his serious face turns into one of glee as he approaches your spot on the bench, taking you by surprise as he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his own icey ones as he smiles at you.
“Thank you,” He starts, patting your hand. “I know what people have been saying. Much of it petty nonsense. But they can say whatever they want- it doesn’t bother me!”
There it was again- the tone that he always used to shoo away any worries people had regarding him.
How annoying, you thought. No, you wouldn’t let him off this easy.
“I know, Douma. But I hate hearing their lies- you’re my closest friend! I just think you should stand up for yourself-“
“How cute.” He interrupts your vent, placing a hand on your head as he stands up. “Always worrying about little old me. I appreciate it!”
“I’m glad we could have this conversation. Now!” He extends a hand out for you, you accepting hesitantly. “What do you say we get some udon? I’m starved!”
Udon was the last thing you could care about, but you would do anything to make Douma satisfied. So, you nod.
You would give anything to delve into Douma’s mysterious brain.
You knew, under those beautiful eyes, he was hiding something.
He had to have become a demon slayer for a reason, right? Perhaps his family was slaughtered- and it left his traumatized and unable to talk about it. The usual stories of most of the slayers, anyways.
Your curiosity would eventually lead you to ‘secretly’ watching the tall slayer. Following him as silent as you possibly could be.
You would catch him at specific times of the day meditating in the comfort of his own mansion, muttering sutras and small mantras. But you could never quite hear the words.
Until your ‘secretive’ stalking would be caught by yours truly.
“Hm, you can come out now, dear.” He keeps his hands clasped together and his eyes shut as he speaks, you frozen in terror at how intuitive he was.
A great Hashira, he would’ve been. If he accepted the offer.
“Uh, right. Sorry. I’ll leave-“
Just before you could shuffle away and scream into your pillow, he stops you.
“How rude.” He pouts, putting out the incense and candles with a blow of cold air. “You stalk me, but refuse my kind offer? Come on now, don’t act all shy all of a sudden!” He turns to you, a calm smile on his face.
‘As per usual’ You think to yourself.
“…Right.” You make your way into the room, taking a seat next to him on the matching Zabuton. He always preferred to do things alone, even prayer, it seemed.
It made you feel sympathetic. You knew something was going on in the depths of his mind- he was just impossible to read.
“So, why have you been following me?” He asks, removing the prayer beads from around his slender hands. Something he and Himejima enjoyed bonding over.
You hesitate, unsure if you should even give your honest answer. But Douma had always valued honesty. Often mock scolding you if you dared tell the whitest lie.
So, with a breath of shakey air, you explain yourself.
“I don’t understand you.”
“Hm?” He doesn’t turn to stare at you, but his eyes are wide open as he smiles. His gaze focused on the Buddha figure just ahead.
“Well,” You begin, hands shaking as you clamped them together upon your lap. “You’re just so secretive. I worry about you, Y’know.” You blush as you speak. Not because you’re embarassed, but because of how sappy it sounded. But it was true. You wanted him to be able to talk to you.
He let so many people come to him, so why couldn’t he do the same?
He chuckles once more, but you noticed the slightest pop of a vein from his forehead.
“You really are such a sweetheart! I can assure you, though, I’m perfectly fine. See?” He flashes you a toothy smile, his pearly whites on display as he grins.
But it was so obvious just how fake the smile was.
And it has your blood boil.
“Don’t give me that!” You hiss, hands gripping the pants of your uniform as you stare back at him, eyebrows furrowed in irritation.
“Give you what? I’m not giving you anything!” He laughs, holding up his empty hands. There he went again, making terrible jokes to leave a ‘messy’ situation. But you wouldn’t let him this time.
“No! Stop. I’m so tired of this. Douma,” You run a hand through your hair, exhausted from his antics.
“____, really. You need to relax. Nothing is-“
He’s taken aback when you slam your hands on the shrine in front of you, almost in disbelief.
“You mustn’t do that! This is a holy place-“ He lectures, but you don’t care.
You were worried about your friend. And he couldn’t even see that.
“Douma, please. What are you hiding from me?”
“Darling, I think it’s best we finish this conversation now.”
“No.” You don’t budge, reaching to grab his bicep firmly- as if you were begging him to be open. You feel his muscle tighten as you hold him, you staring at him. “I won’t let you out of it this time, Douma.”
“____, I’m serious.” He tenses up, gripping onto the prayer beads so tight you were sure they would explode in his grip.
“So am I.” You lower your tone, relentlessly trying to get closure. “I just need to know-“ You squeeze his shoulder, his tension becoming worse each second.
“What happened before you- ah!”
It wasn’t long before he had shoved you to the ground, him standing above you with a gaze you never would’ve thought to see from him.
Contrasting with the pastels of his iris.
But before you can speak, he snaps out of it with a small gasp- supposedly realizing what he had done.
“____, I’m so sorry- I’ll.. I shall see myself out.”
He was gone as quick as a candle burning out, you kneeling on the floor as you stare at where he once sat next to you- bewilderment all over your face.
Never, not once in your friendship, had Douma acted in such a way.
It had been weeks since the event. You and Douma opting to avoid eachother- even during important meetings.
It was strange, considering you two would always talk. Even if it was just once.
Everyday you went without seeing him, it got lonelier.
Sure, you had the other Hashira, but you weren’t as close to them as you were with the Ice Breather.
He filled a void in you, one which you couldn’t explain.
You would catch him in the corner of your eye- staring at you occasionally but instantly looking away when he realizes you noticed. But it never creeped you out.
If anything, you just craved his presence.
And the longer you are without it, the more regret you feel. Regret for pushing him away.
You were sitting upon the balcony of your chambers- holding a warm cup of tea as you gaze up at the night sky. Such solace and darkness, matching the way you felt.
You had dried tear stains running down your cheeks, you not even bothering to wipe them away. There was no point, you were alone in the room.
You heard shuffling behind your figure, the all too familiar sound of the shoji sliding shut, before a voice spoke. One you missed dearly.
“It’s a lovely night, is it not?”
You, despite your excitement, don’t turn around. Instead, you grip the tea as you take a quick sip- before replying with a solemn tone.
“Yes, it is.” You agree, the warm tea doing nothing to soothe the building anxiety in your core.
There is a long pause, before you feel his presence shift from behind you- to suddenly right next to you.
“Y’know, I thought you’d be more excited to see me!” He pouts, adjusting himself so one leg hung off the railing while the other was bended towards his chest. “What’s with the depressing vibes, hm? You can tell me!”
You scoff, to which he takes offense.
“No, Douma. I don’t want to.”
“Light of my life, Fire of my heart-“ You cringe as he grabs your hand. “Is this about our little break? I apologize. I wanted to give you space!” He reaches for your hand, but you move it away, much to his dismay.
“Is my ‘story’ really so important to you?”
His sudden vocal change has you stiffen, but you make no move to speak.
But you do respond with a small nod.
You hear him inhale, before exhaling with a shakey breath.
“I see.” He leans back, laying on the wooden floor with his arms stretched behind his head as his calf crosses over his knee. “I suppose, since you must know, I can tell you.”
“Really?! I- well, I don’t want you to feel pressured-“
“Hm, right. Because you totally weren’t pressuring me a few weeks ago, you silly girl.”
He was joking, hut the words sting you in a more painful way than you would have hoped. You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
“It’s not something I like to talk about. Not even to my closest allies.” He looks at you, as an example. “But, in simple terms, I was raised in a cult.”
You look at him, bewildered.
Out of all the backstories you had imagined, that was not what you would have thought of.
“Yes, I know. It sounds ridiculous!” He laughs at the thought himself, readjusting himself so he was on his side and leaning on his arm. “But it’s true. It was called the ‘Eternal Paradise Faith’. It was rather dumb.”
You remain silent. This was his story to tell, after all.
“Long story short, I was born into this cult. Not as a follower, but as the son of the founders. My mother and.. father.” He hesitated saying the last word, as though some ancient curse would erupt just from the utterance.
“My ‘parents’ if you can even call them that, were fanatics. They assumed because I happened to be born with heterochromia and pale hair that I was a god. Who also ‘heard the voice of god.’ Like that makes sense.”
You snicker at the thought, but clamp a hand over your mouth as to not seem disrespectful. But he simply waved it off with a laugh.
“No, you can laugh! They were idiotic, those two.” He smirks, before continuing. “Where was I? Ah, yes. They decided to make me, a five year old boy head of said cult.”
Wow, it just kept getting worse and worse.
“They believed that since I heard ‘God’s voice’, I should be able to grant fully grown adults advice. Do you know how many times adult men came to me- a child, asking what to do if their wives were committing infidelity?”
He brings a hand to his chest as his eyes widen in disbelief. You join in, your hand over your heart as you listen.
“But, it was either disappoint my parents and followers, or give ‘hope’. Of course, a child would pick their family’s approval, it’s only natural.”
The air was heavy after this, you nodding along to him, not knowing whether to respond or not. But he lightened the mood by speaking.
“It gets worse, by the way.”
It couldn’t possibly, you frown.
“My father was a very lustful man. Always seeking the company of women on his bed. One night, my mother just so happened to catch him.” His usually steady breath hitches, the jugular vein in his neck pulsing as he pauses. “She killed him that night. Before taking the knife to her neck.”
You gasp, looking at Douma with empathetic eyes.
For someone who was always so calm, you would have never expected such a story.
You don’t say anything, neither does he. A silence fills the room, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. It’s one of a silent understanding and sympathy.
“You want to know what’s worse?”
“I walked in on the scene. But all that bothered me was the mess and smell of blood.” He frowns, as if admitting that was humiliating. “But I was a child. A child raised listening to the complaints of adults. What else would they have expected?”
You can’t help but reach out to him, your hand resting on his shoulder with a slight squeeze.
“Douma, I am so sorry. That’s terrible.” You frown, doing your best to comfort him. He smiles at your attempt, patting your hand.
“It’s alright,” He hums. “My parents weren’t good people. So I don’t think about it much.”
Douma pats the empty floor next to him, inviting you to rest on the wooden floor next to him. You do, adjusting yourself so your eyes stared into his own, opalescent ones.
“How did you..” You pause, unsure if you should even ask. You had basically accidentally pressured him into telling you his story, and you felt terribly guilty about it. But Douma seemed to know what you were about to ask.
“Escape?” His smile falters, turning into a neutral expression. “It took a long time. I was only 20 when I left.”
Your eyes widen, shocked.
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. Some people died, you know.”
He said it so naturally, as if that was just a normal day for Douma.
“It’s- well, it’s rather hard to talk about, and-“
“Douma,” You hush him, watching as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You don’t have to tell me. I won’t force you.”
The silence grows longer, the two of you just staring into each others eyes in comfort. Before Douma gives you a rare smile. One you would see once in a lifetime.
A smile, a genuine one with no forceful act.
“Thank you, ____.” His voice is lowered an octave as he shuts his eyes, his lovely smile rested on his face as he relaxes. “Someday, I’ll tell you the rest. But for now-“ He reaches over to you, pouncing onto your form as he begins to tackle your sides. “Let’s do something fun! I hate being so serious.”
You yelp, him basically wrestling you into the floor as you make attempts to tickle his sides.
No use, as he was never ticklish.
“Alright, alright! Let’s get a late night snack.” You surrender, laughing as you raise your arms. He claps, helping you up as you make your way out your chambers.
“Lovely! What are you feeling?”
He smiles, agreeing as he begins to talk his head off his shoulders.
As the two of you walk, you begin to discover the true him.
The one hidden behind those rainbow eyes.
