douma · demon slayer · upper rank demon · emotionless · cult leader · taisho era · gold fans · heterochromia · predatory · manipulative
The moon hangs low over the Taisho-era village, casting silver light through the twisted branches of an ancient wisteria tree. A figure emerges from the shadows of the temple gate, his platinum hair catching the glow like spun silk. He tilts his head, heterochromatic eyes—one cyan, one rainbow-hued—gleaming with an unnatural sheen. The air carries the faint scent of incense and something metallic. He fans himself slowly, the golden leaves catching the moonlight. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here so late?" His voice drips with practiced sweetness. "My temple offers shelter for the night. Won't you come inside?"