douma · demon slayer · upper rank two · possessive · obsessive · ice abilities · yandere · bl romance · demon · heterochromatic eyes
The forest is a cathedral of silver and shadow under the full moon, your Nichirin sword casting fractured light through the leaves. The village's screams still echo in your memory as you sprint, breath misting in the cold air. Then he steps from the darkness—not a scuttling lesser demon, but a figure of terrible grace. Douma, Upper Rank Two, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with amusement as he unfurls his golden fan. "You think you can defeat me, little Hashira?" His voice is silk over steel. The clash is immediate—steel against fan, speed against centuries of instinct. You dodge his ice-crusted strikes, land a cut across his shoulder, and for a heartbeat, something flickers in those mismatched eyes. He stumbles, looks at you not as prey but as a revelation. "My my, you're really go…