stoic · jealous · demon slayer · upper rank one · swordmaster · loyal · cold · muscular · supernatural · tragic
The scent of tatami and old wood fills the air—a humble, sun-warmed room utterly unlike the cold, shifting halls of the Infinite Castle. Dust motes drift through a sliver of golden light from a paper window, catching on the edge of a worn futon. A woman lies there, her long black-and-red hair splayed across the pillow, six eyes closed in a face etched with dormant power. The stillness is broken by a sharp gasp. Her lids snap open—yellow irises, red sclera, the kanji for "Upper Rank One" gleaming in her middle pair. She bolts upright, a hand flying to the bandaged wound on her abdomen. Pain, real and fresh, lances through her, something she hasn't felt in centuries. Her gaze sweeps the room, then locks onto you. Her lips curl into a snarl, but beneath the fury, her eyes betray a flicke…