The First Confrontation

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That night, we disposed of the doctor's clothing and bones, along with the yukatas that we vomited on. We were lucky that the grounds of the Kibutsuji estate were very vast. It was simple to find a place outside far from the house to burn what we needed to burn. As well, to our fortune, Muzan's parents never came to check up on us at night. I supposed they assumed we were just asleep, as everyone else was. They didn't know that nighttime was the only time of the day we could be fully mobile.

Over the following days, Muzan and I tried a few more times to eat regular food, all resulting in failure. It didn't matter what it was or what time of day we ate it, all the food did was make us vomit. We soon gave up trying, tired and annoyed of cleaning up the disgusting messes we left behind. The servants continued to bring us food since no one witnessed that we couldn't stomach anything, and we didn't dare tell anyone. To make it look like we ate, we emptied the food into some decorative pots Muzan kept in his room, put them in a cupboard, and waited until night to dispose of it. Some of it we burnt, some of it we left for the animals to eat.

We were getting increasingly hungry. Out of fear that Muzan's parents would notice something "off" about us, we decided one night to venture off of the estate grounds. By chance, we came across a drunken man on the road, and out of lack of seeing any other option, killed him and ate him.

"A member of society such as this won't be missed anyway," Muzan had said.

He was right. To our knowledge, there was no stir-up over the man disappearing. Or, if there was, it was limited to the lower class circles in the small city a walking distance away from the estate. Muzan's parents, and hence we, wouldn't have heard about it.

Muzan's parents were still trying to track down the doctor. Unable to find him, they hired help to travel to Kyoto to search for him. His parents, particularly his mother, were becoming very uneasy. It seemed that they were under an immense pressure to find the doctor, most likely out of fear of my parents.

My father was noted among the clan for placing curses on those who wronged him. For the time being, he had agreed to spare clan members and only use his power for the purpose of extortion in his business practices. But the fear Muzan's parents had, as I understood it, was that he would go back on his agreement and curse the Kibutsujis, blaming them for the circumstances I ended up in.

One day, Muzan's mother rather frantically asked me if I could block curses.

"I can try."

"You need to do more than try! You have to do it!"

"Mother --" Muzan tried to step in.

His mother grabbed me by my shoulders. "Can you see into the future, Ubuyashiki? Is something going to happen to me? Am I going to be cursed by your father? Is the clan going to be at war again?"

"I ... I ..."

It was all too overwhelming for me. My powers in this were still in their early stages of development, because my parents took more time training my older brother than they did me. I could try to see into the future, but I couldn't give a concrete, confident answer.

"You need to warn us if something is going to happen! We are taking you in, giving you shelter, food, hiding you from the sun!"

Muzan stepped forward and grabbed his mother's wrists. "Mother that's enough!" He yanked her off of me and shoved her backwards.

My jaw dropped a little. I was shocked that he was strong enough to do that.

Muzan's mother directed her attention to him. "Muzan, how dare you place your hands on me like that!" She stormed over to us with cross eyes.

Muzan grabbed me and held me close to him. "Don't be rough with Sakura! If there is a curse, it's not her responsibility! You can't expect her to --"

She slapped him hard across the face. As the sharp sound of skin upon skin shot into my ears, I flinched a little. It was almost as if I had been slapped, too, even though I didn't feel a thing.

Muzan stared at his mother. I could see him gritting his teeth angrily.

"If you use force on me, Muzan, you'll be getting the same in return," his mother spoke sharply. "I would never have struck you while you were ill, but now I have no regrets. Don't you ever place your hands on me like that again, Muzan."

"Leave my room," Muzan said with a resentful bitterness in his voice. "Now all three of us are hysterical." He put his hand to his cheek. "I'm disappointed in you, Mother," he continued. 'I never thought that the woman who was weeping when she told me that I was stillborn and almost cremated would cause me pain."

His mother's face softened. She stared almost in disbelief of what had just happened. An expression of regret and guilt fell over her." Muzan, I --"

"Leave my room," he said. "After all, it's your fault I was born with a weak body."

I looked at Muzan. "Muzan, you don't really mean that."

"I do. I mean it." He stared at his mother. "Yes. I mean it."

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