Douma Harem + Douma Oneshots

?Douma & Enmu?

(A/N: I'm sorry that it's been so long since I updated. A friend of mine died, and my motivation died with them. I'll try and update a bit more.)

The Infinity Castle was still. Douma could barely hear any sound, thanks to the door he had closed. He was standing, practicing fighting positions in the mirror. He really shouldn't. What if he broke something?

Then, the peaceful silence was disturbed. There was a pattering of footsteps, an opening of a door.

"Uppermoon Two!"

Enmu was standing on outside, the tails of his western coat flying behind him as if touched by a hidden wind. Lowermoon One strode confidently over to Douma, bowing low as he reached him.

"Huh? Ah! Enmu-dono!"

Enmu smirked at the nickname, delighted by the fact an Uppermoon had referred to him as such. He straightened up from his bow, cyan eyes scanning Douma's face.

"May I ask you something?" Enmu asked, placing a hand on Douma's arm. The blond forced a grin.

"Of course! What is it?"

"I have recently been working on a new form of my Blood Demon Art. I need someone to test it out on." Enmu explained, the smile never leaving his lips. "You're not busy, are you?"

Douma shook his head. "I'm never busy. If I have to do something, I've got until the world ends to do it. Oh, the perks of being a demon! So... what is this new technique?"

"Just sit back, and I'll show you."

The mouth on Enmu's hand smiled too. It was sickening, so abnormally inhuman. It began to speak in a calming voice, almost melodic.

"Sleep... dream. Dream~"

Douma sat down, lying on the cushioned corner to his personalised room. The eerie chanting continued, still repeating the same words again and again. He stared into Enmu's eyes, reading and rereading the kanji.

This was taking a while. In the heat of battle, Enmu wouldn't have time to do this. The Blood Demon Art would be ineffective. And yet... Douma was beginning to feel a sense of drowsiness. It was the first time he'd felt it for over a century.

How could he feel tired?

Maybe this wasn't such an inefficient way of fighting. Perhaps in the long term, this attack wasn't so bad. He could feel his eyes closing, and he let them. He could have easily fought back, but he was here to help Enmu.

Enmu's voice was oddly soothing, and felt familiar. Was this another form of manipulation? To make to victim associate the voice with someone they know, making them trust Enmu more? If so, it worked in a way. Which was weird, since Douma wasn't close to anyone.

Douma's eyes snapped shut, small dots of orange and red dancing around the inside of his eyelids. Enmu's voice slowly quietened, and then it was gone. Douma was unable to open his eyes.

Well... he was sure he could if he was bothered. But he would make Enmu think that he was more powerful than he really was. Enmu's ego was already giant, Douma adding to it wouldn't make much difference.

The colourful dots faded away, leaving Douma in darkness. The inky murk was all Douma could see, before it faded away as well.

A scene was materialising in front of him, a small plain of grass; a traditional wooden house. There was a form of natural light, but it wasn't the sun or the moon. It was as if the sky was glowing.

Douma realised how quiet everything was, except for a sort of pounding in his head. He turned around, trying to locate the source of the sound. He inhaled, attempting to find the source of the noise that was irritating him.