Douma Harem + Douma Oneshots

(Not a ship)?Douma and Mitsuri Sibling AU? (Part Two)

A/N: uhhhh yeah. Enjoy 

Mitsuri froze. Her entire body tensed up, startled - or terrified? - at the smooth voice that had spoken. The person laughed, clearly amused at her reaction.

The person, of course, was Douma. But Mitsuri didn't know that, she just knew someone had said something. Something that has shocked her. 

Did she have a sibling? Yes. She did. 

But he was dead. 

This person was lying. She turned around, furious. How dare someone disrespect her dead brother? How did they even know? All these thoughts were whirling through her head. She faced the person, the figure blurred since her sight was currently blinded by tears due to the fact she had killed - in her mind - an innocent. 

"How dare you!" She yelled, swinging her fist out. (A/N: Mitsuri is in a bad mood :p) The person didn't move when her hand collided with their stomach. 

Douma grinned as the hand hit him. He liked pain. 

She'd gotten stronger. No doubt that training to become a Hashira had increased her strength and durability in leaps and bounds. She didn't know who she was hitting, in fact, she didn't even question why there was someone in the forest in the middle of the night that knew about her deceased sibling. 

Mitsuri wasn't thinking straight. If she was, she would have noticed it was the same person she'd allegedly killed a just a few minutes prior. It wasn't just she'd taken a life, she  was getting rid of all the pent up emotions she'd accumulated over the last couple of months.

 Being a Hashira meant you were always meant to be happy, a symbol of hope. She sobbed again.  But she didn't look up, and see the face that she would have dimly recognised from her childhood, before he disappeared and was presumed dead.

"Why were you even following me?!" Mitsuri screamed, having lost her temper when she'd killed what she thought was an innocent traveller. What Douma - she of course did not know it was Douma - said just irked her more. She was furious. If any of the Hashira could see her, they'd think Mitsuri was an entirely different person. 

She began to swing her other hand towards Douma, landing it in his chest.  As it hit him, he didn't flinch, instead grabbing her wrist as Mitsuri prepared for another hit. She gasped, as if woken from a trance, when the hand grabbed her. Douma's second hand, long fingered and pale, gently tilted her head up. (A/N: it's difficult to picture douma doing anything gentle tbh) He stared at her, rainbow eyes meeting pale green ones.

"I came back, imouto. Just like I promised." He said softly, a smile on his flawless face.

Mitsuri stopped. Her tear filled eyes widened, and she hesitantly took a step back, tugging her hand away from Douma's loose grip. 

 "No...my brother died. He disappeared when he was twelve. We never found a body." Her breath hitched, remembering her  big brother that she'd tried so hard to forget. To forget his smile, his laugh, his unique eyes and silvery hair that had seemed so much nicer that her common black.  

And as much as Mitsuri wanted to deny it, this stranger looked exactly like a grown up version of him.

She rested her fingers on the hilt of her blade, suddenly wary. This could be a demon. A shapeshifter that had snuck into her home and found the picture from her childhood buried deep in a drawer. 

A blurry, black and white of her as a child with her long gone older brother.

 Perhaps that was this demon's sick and twisted idea of fun. To pretend to be him, to play tricks in her mind. She furrowed her brow in anger, drawing her bloodstained whip-like sword out of the sheath.

Opposite her, Douma sighed. A strange feeling was in his chest, one he'd hadn't felt since he was a mere child. One that made him displeased - was that the word for it? -.

Mitsuri glanced down at her sword, a nauseating feeling settling in her stomach. The blood wasn't gone. She touched it, her fingers coming away a scarlet red. It wasn't a dream.

She wished it was. She wished that she wasn't standing in front of this tall, familiar figure.

"You do not believe me?" Douma shook his head, almost disappointed. "I've disobeyed strict orders in coming here to see you, and you choose not to talk to me? Why not, imouto-chan?"

Mitsuri shivered. She wanted to believe it was him. She really did.

But at the same time, she knew it couldn't be. No child could live on the streets since age twelve and look so...well brought up? She glanced up at Douma, taking in the sight of him. He looked exactly like her brother, only older. 

"Give me proof that you're Douma," She commanded. "Or else I will never forgive you for lying to me."

"I need proof?" Douma laughed. It was a mocking sound, filled with hatred for the world, and yet at the same time, care for the woman in front of him. "What do you possibly want me to say?"

Douma's laugh halted abruptly. "This isn't a fairy tale, where I say something like; one night, when we were....," Douma rolled his eyes. "Blah blah blah. " 

Mitsuri shuddered involuntarily as Douma took a swift step forwards, holding out his hand. 

"Mitsuri, I remembered you. I promised I'd never forget you. You just have to trust me. You were always trusting, don't tell me you've changed?" He grinned, and only then did Mitsuri noticed the sharpened canines protruding out from his mouth.  

He was a demon.

She grabbed the hilt of her sword, fingers tightening around the the nichirin weapon. With a sudden movement, she was raising it, the metal making a sharp whoosh as it cut through the air.

She reached the spot where his body was. Or rather, where it should have been. Her blade hit an emptiness where he has been standings seconds prior. She whirled around in confusion, sword trailing behind her.

She nearly screamed when she felt a hand cover her mouth from behind her.

"I thought we could have been civil, imouto-chan. I guess not." Douma's voice, which had been filled with - faked? - joy earlier, was now devoid of any feeling. She could feel a sharp metal tip pressed against her neck, but not hard enough to draw any blood. Douma sighed theatrically.

"I'll just have to kill you."