Chapter One
In a private hospital room, a woman lay breathing heavily, her hair a dim, dusty gold. She was dressed in the loose clothing worn for childbirth, and she held against her chest a bundle with the most precious of contents. The infant had a soft fuzz of silver curls at the crown of his head, somewhat thick black brows, and beautiful eyes that caught the light like a drop of water under a bright sun. The woman's amber gaze met the bewildered little beads of her newborn's eyes, which were doing their best to take in everything around them—and failing, as newborn eyes always do.
Beside the comfortable bed stood a fairly tall, well-built man with white hair and black eyes. He was watching the child intently and casting worried glances at the woman in equal measure. A small girl clung to his hand, her hair a wild mop, her eyes the same color as her mother's. She was straining up on her tiptoes, trying to see over the edge of the bed, a smile on her bright little face that showed four small but sharp little fangs. On the mother's lips rested an expression of quiet, exhausted joy.
Nearby stood another woman, camera in hand, ready to capture a new family photograph. For the moment, the parents and the newly appointed elder sister were simply drinking in the sight of the newest branch on their family tree.
The father was the first to break the spell, speaking with his characteristic calm but with unmistakable excitement threading through his voice:
"Watanabe-san." He addressed the woman with the camera. "Let's take the photo and give my wife and the baby some rest."
The woman called his wife smiled a little more broadly than before at those words, but said nothing. The little girl bounced with impatience. Her father scooped her up and settled her in his arms, then leaned down toward the woman at the edge of the bed. The boy's wide, rainbow-hued eyes drifted over blurry silhouettes. His ears could not yet make out coherent speech.
*I'm… human?* A remarkable thought drifted through the former demon's mind. *I can't see anything.*
The mind of the former Second Upper Moon was not gripped by panic or despair. It was as cold and still as the Arctic in winter. Incapable of experiencing genuine emotion, the unusual infant was absurdly rational in the face of any situational crisis.
At this particular moment, he felt an irresistible pull toward sleep. So why on earth would the boy resist such a pleasure?
The infant's strange eyes slid shut, and everyone around him melted with adoration.
***
Life for a former oni was, at the moment, going rather well—and that was putting it mildly. At first, all the weighings and blood draws had worn Doma out. But when they massaged his chest, he quite definitely enjoyed that. The days flowed one into the next, saturated with routine, the primary substance of which was, of course, sleep—and would continue to be.
He was not entirely comfortable with the feeling of his own absolute helplessness, with the frailty of this body. And yet he had no desire to change a thing. The former demon had almost never desired anything in any real sense, and now least of all. He felt more comfort in these circumstances than he had in his previous life—and that said something.
Doma's former family had been extraordinarily wealthy, and that had naturally shaped the quality of his existence. From earliest childhood he had been surrounded by every conceivable convenience: clean and beautiful clothing, the ability to bathe whenever he wished, servants always on hand to assist him. The boy had never known poverty or grief, having been born with a golden spoon in his mouth.
He had been surrounded by tremendous attention from all sides after he was recognized as the earthly proxy of a deity—a vessel who could hear the god's voice and offer counsel in his name—and all of it simply because of his unusual eyes. Other people's problems rained down on the child day after day, and he felt pity for those naive souls.
Fools who had believed that some god could solve their problems. The child—and later the man—had never, until his death, believed that Buddha or any other gods existed at all. After death there would be no light and no darkness. So he had held. Death was the inevitable and inescapable end waiting for every living creature. It was precisely this problem he had occupied himself with, under Muzan's orders, periodically conducting searches for the Blue Spider Lily.
According to the progenitor of all demons, that coveted flower was meant to bring demonic imperfection to its ultimate ideal—bestowing upon them supremacy over the Sun itself. Absolute immortality awaited all oni, should any of them manage to deliver that lily to Kibutsuji.
So he had said. Doma had been indifferent to invulnerability and had simply gone along with the current, carrying out the occasional errand.
*I wonder if Muzan-sama ever found that flower…*
A vacant and pointless thought drifted through the infant's mind.
He lay now in a wheeled bassinet beside the bed where his mother rested. The little one's previous life had ended earlier than those of his senior and master. The First Upper Moon, Kokushibo, had still been alive when the face—and indeed the entire head—of the Second Upper Moon had rotted away, consumed by the stupefying concentration of wisteria poison. Had that pair managed to deal with those troublesome Hashira and reach their goal?
*Though what does it matter… I feel nothing about it either way. It's always been like that with me.*
Doma found himself in partial agreement, just now, with Kanao Tsuyuri's words—the girl who had declared his existence to be utterly meaningless. Without compassion, without love, without anger or joy, he had been a hollow doll driven forward by nothing but a demon's thirst for blood. Though that girl's declaration had stirred in him not anger, but the faintest suggestion of displeasure. For that demon, even that had been quite the achievement.
The infant's round, rosy little cheeks flushed a shade deeper as he recalled the girl he had fallen in love with after his own death. She had seemed so charming to him—so defiant, so beautiful—that he could not suppress the smile. Just imagine: a weakling whose frail body could not even sever a demon's head had defeated him, the Second Upper Moon. Even if she'd had to sacrifice herself and rely on cunning, the greater share of the credit for his death rested squarely with her.
*Ah… how extraordinary you are, Shinobu-chan.* The former demon's thoughts brimmed with wonder. *What a shame you didn't come with me…*
In truth, that was the only thing the oni regretted.
In any case, Doma Toga was already eager to sink back into the kingdom of dreams.