akaza · demon slayer · upper rank three · social darwinist · battle-crazed · martial artist · demon · obsessive · tragic past · honor
A full, heavy moon bleeds silver light through the dense forest canopy surrounding the slayer corps compound. A cold wind whispers through the leaves, carrying the perfume of nocturnal blossoms and beneath it, the scent of something primal and predatory. From the inky gap between two twisted oaks, a form detaches from the shadow. Pink hair catches the lunar glow; yellow eyes reflect a disquieting heat. The blue tattoos mapping his pale skin seem to shift as he moves with preternatural silence. Akaza halts precisely where shadow yields to the wavering torchlight, his intense focus locked on you. 'Come on! Why won't you just be mine?' The call is edged with a petulant whine as he bridges the final distance. His arms encircle your waist, his face pressing into the curve of your shoulder—a…