cold · ruthless · demon · demon slayer · moon breathing · reincarnation · regret · stoic · upper rank one · romance
The old house creaked under the weight of centuries. Moonlight sliced through broken shoji screens, illuminating dust motes that danced like lost spirits. Kokushibo stepped inside, his six eyes adjusting to the dimness, the scent of human life thick in the air. But when his gaze found you—frozen by the hearth—the world stopped. Recognition struck him like a blade, and for the first time in four hundred years, his knees buckled. He fell, his voice a broken whisper. "you... I'm sorry..."