Doma was intensely curious about Rinko, and he was not the type to keep his questions bottled up. Unfortunately, most of the time his questions never led to the answers he wanted. Rinko either dodged them, changed the subject, or gave replies that sounded like answers but somehow said nothing at all.
So Doma changed his approach.
After the next reporting session ended, he asked Muzan directly.
"Muzan-sama, why did you entrust Rinko to me?"
Muzan glanced at him. Just one look.
That single glance carried such overwhelming pressure that Doma felt it surge through him from the inside out, as if every blood vessel in his body might burst at any moment. It was a clear message. Do not ask.
Unfortunately for him, Muzan still did not explain why.
And after that incident, Muzan stopped summoning him altogether. Even the regular reports were canceled. The instruction was simple. If there were no orders, stay in your own territory. And make sure Rinko does not come to harm.
That only made Doma more curious.
Why?
Why entrust Rinko to him? Why insist that Rinko be protected? What secret was hidden inside that boy?
Muzan would not speak. Rinko could not answer.
So Doma stopped asking anyone and began exploring on his own.
There had to be something different about Rinko. All he needed to do was find it. Like a treasure hunt. The treasure was right there. He only needed the key.
To Doma, Rinko was like a little wooden doll. Most of the time, the strings were wrapped around his own hands, and he moved, lived, and slept under his own control. He showed interest in almost nothing. He did not like eating, drinking, or playing. He could sit there quietly, head tilted up to look at the trees outside, then lower his gaze to the book in his hands. If no one disturbed him, he could sit like that all night.
But if someone invited him, Rinko would agree.
"Rinko, do you like me?"
When Doma asked that, Rinko's expression remained unchanged. His gaze shifted from the book in his hands to Doma's face.
"Hm. I don't like you, but I don't dislike you."
The boy thought for a long time before answering. Even with the clear statement of not liking him, the final conclusion still made Doma smile.
"Oh? Really? I'm so happy."
It felt as though anyone could take the strings from Doma's hands.
Rinko did not understand why Doma would ask such a question, but he answered it anyway.
He did not like Doma because Doma was tall, clingy, and an adult man with an overwhelming presence.
But Rinko had no reason to hate him. Disliking and hating were not the same thing. Doma was not likable, but he was also not someone easy to truly hate. At least, Rinko found it difficult to hate him.
Doma always brought him along when feeding, yet he never forced food into Rinko's mouth the way Muzan did, even though he looked like he wanted to.
That left Rinko feeling conflicted. Doma's invitations came from goodwill. Sharing food among demons was rare. Refusing such kindness felt impolite.
And Doma had beautiful eyes, a handsome face, a pleasant voice, and a comfortable residence. He did not drag Rinko out to train the moment night fell. Their time together could honestly be described as peaceful and mutually pleasant.
Rinko did not dislike Doma.
"Rinko, do you want to go out for a walk tonight?"
So when Doma invited him, Rinko agreed without hesitation.
Rinko had no talent for combat and no real ability to fight. Even though the demons he followed were all among the strongest, he had never learned any offensive techniques. When facing Demon Slayers, his greatest contribution was staying out of sight and not dragging others down.
So what would Rinko do if he faced an enemy?
Doma was curious.
And he acted on that curiosity.
Battlefields were always full of accidents and coincidences. Rinko's hiding place caught the attention of the Demon Slayers, and he was discovered.
As blades chased him, Rinko's face remained blank.
"I don't want to fight."
He told them so. But Demon Slayers were stubborn creatures. They did not listen.
The poor little wooden doll hopped and dodged lightly. The Demon Slayers could not even brush the hem of his clothes. Then, without warning, at a corner, in a blink, in the briefest moment out of sight, the child vanished completely.
"Damn it. That little demon disappeared."
"Forget him for now. Take care of this one first."
Their attention immediately returned to Doma.
Having lost his toy, Doma also lost interest in playing. His folding fan spread open, and with a single sweep, several ice sculptures were left behind.
"Rinko. I didn't mean it, so don't be mad. Let's go home."
The smile never left his face. His voice remained gentle as ever. Doma walked slowly, searching the surroundings. Strangely enough, even a cursory scan revealed no trace of demonic presence.
Did he run away? Was it a Blood Demon Art? Could such an ability even count? Not killing enemies, only running. That did not sound like a powerful demon. If not powerful, then perhaps simply useless.
"I'm not angry. I just feel like my luck is always a bit bad."
The voice was close. So close it felt like it came from behind him.
Doma turned and saw Rinko standing right there.
"How amazing. Is that Rinko's Blood Demon Art? Hm? Perfect for hide and seek. Is it something only you can use?"
His narrowed eyes were full of curiosity, the smile no longer entirely pure. He bent down, closing the height difference, until the boy lifted his head and their gazes met.
"It's not a Blood Demon Art. And I don't know if others can use it."
Rinko tilted his head, his eyes drifting to Doma's hand behind his back. The fan had already been put away. He had seen how easily Doma dealt with the Demon Slayers earlier. If he could master a Blood Demon Art too, maybe Muzan would stop tossing him around.
"Can you teach me?"
"Blood Demon Art."
This time, Doma fell silent.
He straightened, one arm folded across his chest while the other rubbed his chin. His pretty brows furrowed as he tilted his head back and forth, humming in thought for a long while.
"That's not something others can teach you. And Rinko, you're so weak. It would be very hard for you to master a Blood Demon Art."
The words were blunt and unkind.
Rinko did not get angry. He had failed to learn swordsmanship before. He had failed to master Akaza's martial arts later. Trying to grasp something completely different like a Blood Demon Art was indeed unrealistic.
"Hey, Rinko."
Rinko looked up, meeting Doma's uncovered eyes, glowing with demonic light.
"Can I try twisting your neck?"
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