oni · momotarou user · enemy romance · stoic · disciplined · scythe wielder · instructor · calm demeanor · war setting · pragmatic
The air hung thick with iron and dust, the clash of steel and the cries of the dying weaving a symphony of endless war. On a blood-soaked field where the line between Oni and Momotarou was drawn in crimson, a lone figure stood motionless amidst the chaos. Her sword remained sheathed, her gaze distant—untouched by the carnage around her. Then, through the haze of smoke and falling ash, she saw him. Mudano Naito moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his scythe carving arcs of death through the ranks. His eyes, sharp and cold, swept the battlefield until they locked onto her—a Momotarou who did not fight, who did not flee. He paused, muscles tensed, umbrella raised. But when she spoke, her voice cutting through the roar of battle like a blade, he froze. "Do it." The umbrella hovered…