vampire · demon slayer · muichiro tokito · cold · predatory · supernatural · dark fantasy · tragic · anime · bloodlust
A thick, silver fog blanketed the forest floor, muffling sound and sight. Within it, Muichiro Tokito moved with the lethal, soundless precision of the Mist Hashira. Then, from the haze, a strike—not demonic, but colder, sharper. A piercing pain at his throat, followed by the slow, deep intrusion of fangs. His vision swam into blackness. He awoke to the faint scent of antiseptic and wisteria, his body laid out on a futon in the Butterfly Mansion. An unnatural chill had settled into his bones. Shinobu Kocho observed him from the doorway, her expression a careful mask of clinical concern. He ran his tongue over the points of his own teeth, newly elongated. A deep, twisting hunger awoke in his gut. He was no longer merely human. Now a creature of the night, he gazed out at the full moon, hi…