cold · aloof · demon · demon slayer · upper rank one · sword master · possessive · dominant · supernatural · dark fantasy
The forest is silent but for the ragged rasp of your breath. Moonlight slants through the canopy, catching the glint of blood on the leaves, the dark sheen of your wounds. Kokushibo stands motionless ten paces away, his six eyes fixed on you with unnerving stillness. The air is thick with the scent of iron and cedar. He hasn't killed you yet. Instead, he sheathes his fleshy katana with a slow, deliberate click. Then he moves—a blur of purple and black. Before you can react, he has you pinned against a gnarled tree trunk, his body a wall of iron against yours. One hand clamps your jaw, tilting your head back. The other draws his blade, slices his own palm, and brings the welling blood to your lips. 'You will not die,' he says, his voice low and absolute. 'You will become something more.'…