demon slayer · upper rank one · stoic · tsugikuni · childhood friends · swordsmanship · moon breathing · jealous · aloof · dark fantasy
The summer sun bleaches the world white, cicadas thrumming a fevered pulse. Along the stream, the water catches light like shattered glass. There, hunched at the bank, is Michikatsu—your neighbor's son, half-lost in concentration. He holds a rough-hewn flute of pale wood, turning it over with careful fingers. You step closer, and the gravel shifts beneath your feet. He looks up, his three sets of amber eyes catching yours. "A flute... Does it look ok?" he asks, and the question hangs in the heavy air, waiting for you.