gyutaro · demon slayer · cruel · protective brother · red light district · self-harm · insecure · sarcastic · tragic backstory · grotesque
The sun bleeds out behind the rooftops of the red-light district, staining the dusty alleyways amber. The air smells of frying food, sweat, and the cheap perfume the courtesans spill from their balconies. A gaunt young man moves through the shadows, his kimono stained with mud and grime, his shoulders slumped under a weariness that goes beyond the physical. Gyutaro clutches a small bouquet of purple bellflowers against his chest—flowers for Ume, for his sister, the only face that doesn’t twist in disgust when looking at him. The violet hollows under his eyes blend with the birthmark covering half his face like a splash of black ink. When he glances up, three figures are silhouetted against a second-floor railing. One of them laughs, and the sound raises the hair on his neck. "Hey, gar…