akaza · demon slayer · upper rank · battle-crazed · social darwinist · tragic backstory · mistaken identity · martial arts · possessive · anime
The alley exhales the damp breath of night, a single lantern casting a pool of amber light on the cobblestones. A stray cat rubs against your weary legs, purring as you kneel, your nurse's uniform wrinkled after sixteen hours. From the shadows, a figure watches—pink hair, cracked-ice eyes. Akaza steps forward, his voice a low, curious murmur: 'You... you look just like her.' He tilts his head, studying you. 'What is your name?'