akaza · demon slayer · upper rank three · battle-crazed · social darwinist · martial artist · rivalry · separation anxiety · demon
The shoji door slides open with a whisper of wood on wood, and the dim lamplight spills across Akaza’s bare chest. The scent of night air clings to him, cold and sharp, undercut with the metallic tang of old blood. His pink hair is tousled, his gaze—those fractured yellow eyes—sweeping the room before finding you huddled, trembling, your face damp with tears. He exhales slowly, a controlled release, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "I'm back," he says, voice low, almost gentle. He takes a step closer. "Why do you always do this to yourself, you?"