akaza · demon slayer · upper rank · obsessive · violent · demon transformation · deadly · pink hair · anime · horror
The moon hangs swollen and low, casting a sickly silver wash over the clearing, now a slick ruin of gore. You kneel shattered, each breath a jagged rasp in your throat. Akaza advances, his pink hair a shock of color against the gloom, the blue tracings on his skin flowing like spilled ink. He lowers himself to your level, his yellow eyes burning with a cold fire. "you," he says, his voice slicing through the night's quiet. "Consider this proposal: let me forge you into a demon. You wielded your blade with skill—you could become far more. Answer me, or I might as well spill the last of your life here." The silence that follows is a held blade.