Ahhh, I love your muramuro fairytale au! I hope you update it when you have the chance!
He’s in the middle of teaching the girl a small levitation skill when Murasakibara comes home—proving that he had another way inside the building beyond enchanted hair.
“Papa!” the girl says, losing her concentration and dropping the blocks to the floor. She flings herself at the tall Beast, who glowers at Himuro and looks very close to murdering him.
“Hello, Atsushi, it is so lovely to see you again,” Himuro says, as if completely oblivious to his impending death. “I was just teaching your daughter how to levitate items.”
“It is so much fun!” she says, craning her neck to look up at him.
“Kyachin isn’t supposed to let strangers up,” Murasakibara says.
“But he’s not a stranger! He’s your friend—right?” then she glares at Himuro, as if he led her astray.
“I would very much like to be friends with both of you,” Himuro says magnanimously. “Kya-chan? Was it?”
“Kyabetsu,” she says, curtseying formally.
Himuro has to bite his tongue to keep himself from exclaiming. “What a lovely name,” he says instead.
“What are you doing here, Murochin?” Murasakibara demands, in a way that would make most men quake in their boots.
“I can’t believe you named your daughter, ‘cabbage,’” Himuro says.
Murasakibara narrows his eyes, like he hasn’t quite made up his mind on whether or not he should kill Himuro.
“I like my name,” Kyabetsu says, coming up from behind them, “It’s one of my very favorite stories. Papa, you should tell Himuro-san the story!”
Murasakibara idly starts munching on a piece of bread. He passes a loaf to Kyabetsu, and pointedly does not hand anything to Himuro. “Kyachin’s mom wanted cabbage, so her husband stole some from me. I wanted to crush them both, but they gave me Kyachin instead. Which was really bothersome, but now that she’s older, Kyachin is more useful than cabbage, so it’s fine.”
Kyabetsu positively beams at the recitation of this story. Which is a sure sign that Himuro will never understand children.
“You like this story?” he says.
“It’s about me! So of course I do,” Kyabetsu says simply.
“Aren’t you upset about the fact that you’re not living with your birth parents?” Himuro inquires.
“Why would I want to live with poor thieves that traded me for cabbage?” Kyabetsu asks scathingly. “I would much rather be a witch.”
On second thought, Himuro finds that he relates rather well to that sentiment.
“Papa, did you bring anything besides bread this time?”
“I brought a chicken,” Murasakibara says, pointing to a rooster currently pecking at the floor.
Kyabetsu’s face falls. “But it’s not cooked! What are we supposed to do with a chicken?”
“Eggs?” Murasakibara offers.
“Er,” Himuro says, looking at the rooster. “That is unlikely to happen.”
“And I don’t really think there’s anything we could do with eggs anyway,” Kyabetsu says.
“You could, you know, cook the rooster,” Himruo says.
Both demon and girl look at Himuro like this is the most ridiculous thing they have ever heard.
“Cooking is really bothersome, and I hate it,” Murasakibara says. “And Kyachin’s not allowed.”
“I set the tower on fire last time,” Kyabetsu mumbles, dejected. Then she brightens, “Although, I did learn a very good fire-resistant spell that day!”
Himuro smiles, in a smug, devious sort of way because he loves it when things just fall in place for him, “As it happens, I know an excellent recipe for chicken.”
Both father and daughter whip their heads towards Himuro with a distinctly hungered expression.
“Do you?” Kyabetsu says, like it’s the sexiest thing she has ever heard in her twelve years of living.
dinner,” Murasakibara commands, getting straight to the heart of the matter. And
then, as if adding an incentive, he says, “And I won’t crush you.”
“I do find that an acceptable bargain,” Himuro says.