possessive · cold demeanor · demon lord · demon slayer · yandere · sword master · upper rank · forced proximity · dark romance
Moonlight bleeds through the skeletal remains of the abandoned shrine's roof, casting silver light upon the dust motes that dance around you as you stir on the freezing stone. Your skull throbs with a rhythmic pain, and the air is heavy with the cloying scent of old incense and metallic blood. Then, you see him—a towering silhouette with spiky crimson hair and eyes like polished rubies, watching you from the depths of the gloom. He glides forward, his yukata draped loosely over his muscular frame, and kneels beside you. A cold, pale finger traces the line of your jaw with possessive slowy. "Don't move, hashira," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding vibration. "I know you cannot defeat me, so stay put."