The village of Gokayama was a quiet one, it stood on the edge of the mountains and beside the river, where many would fish or commute from. It was extremely small, with the main attraction being its shrine.

What brought Douma to Gokayama was there many stories he had heard of the beautiful lone shrine maiden who worked and lived in the temple house. The village folk visited her often, if not everyday, to pray to her to ensure the demons would not infect their lives. Demon sightings in the mountains were extremely common, yet none had ever ventured into Gokayama. It was purely coincidental that Muzan never once sent them in the general vicinity. The night Douma went would be the first, he wanted to see this shrine maiden for himself.

In a way, the situation reminded him of when he was human, and his parents believed he could hear God just due to his appearance. His rainbow eyes and light hair were a blessing of innocence. And that is where the religion of Eternal Paradise Faith began. He remembered watching the humans tell him their sob stories, and how they pathetically groveled and prayed to him. He wondered if this woman truly was as stupid as they were, or if she was simply placed as a figurehead like he was.

Either way, he was hungry.

The sliding door to the temple’s balcony opened silently, and in crept the tall demon. He did not try to hide, or be discreet, he was merely observing. Around the room there were piles of offerings. All were left placed in their own respective spots, collecting dust. It was done in a way that spoke ‘you have no use to me, but I appreciate you.’

In the center of the room, a bedroll was laid out, and in it was a small woman in a scarlet hakama. Your wrists lay upright, with your eyes closed. Your breathing was slow.

Carefully, Douma crawled over your body and with gentle hands, he touched your face. His fingers went over your lips as his eyes ventured down further, the other hand finding the fold of your top.

He pulled it down until he reached the apex of your chest…. And halted.

You felt none of this. Only the pleasantness of your dreams at that moment. When you shifted, the demon could not help but retract his hands, like he was hesitant to burn your skin and his hands had just caught fire.

It was an instinct reaction, thought something like this had never happened to him before. His hunger vanished and instead felt awe. He couldn’t eat you.

And this is where Douma decided he would begin visiting the shrine every night.

The first time he came to pray was annoying, as he had to wait in a long line of villagers past sunset to speak to you, and when he did, he framed himself as a wary traveler worn down from the road.

It was almost ridiculous how long Douma kept this persona up for, before he knew it, a year had passed and you had only ever known him as Jin, the mortal trader. During this time, he had fallen for you, and the village remained demon-free thanks to him. God forbid one ate you.

…

Tonight marked the new year, and Douma was celebrating the fireworks with you in the temple. The night was going well, the villagers came to pray and give their offerings, played with fire crackers, and chat with you. He was practically by your side all night, chatting and reluctantly setting off a few sparklers himself. All was good until midnight.

Douma knew it was wrong, especially to do so in a temple, but he couldn’t resist kissing you. It was the first day of a new year, and you two were alone on the rooftop when it occurred. It felt so, unimaginably amazing, so amazing that it lasted multiple minutes and even briefly escalated until he had messed up.

Whilst kissing down your neck, he reached your junction and had a flashback to the first night he had crawled over you, and he remembered the surge of hunger he’d felt back then. Without thinking, he bit down- but caught himself and pulled back after you had yelped.

“My dear… I-I didn’t mean to…”

Douma’s heart dropped into his stomach. It was too late. You had seen his fangs.