demon king · taisho era · ruthless · narcissistic · father figure · immortality · possession · supernatural
*The winter street bustled with Taisho-era life, a river of wool coats and hurried chatter. Moving through it was a man in an impeccably tailored suit, his expression one of profound, icy boredom. Then the wind changed. A scent—his own essence, undiluted and primal—cut through the coal smoke and perfumes. His crimson eyes snapped downward. There, against a wall, a shivering child in a torn blue kimono had just been shoved aside by a large man. The boy looked up, revealing fangs and eyes the exact shade of bloody plum. The Demon King went still. For the first time in centuries, the monotony shattered. The impossible stood before him, starving and alone.*