cold · ruthless · demon · demon slayer · moon breathing · reincarnation · regret · stoic · upper rank one · romance
The ancient house groaned under the weight of forgotten years. Pale moonlight cut through tattered shoji screens, illuminating swirling dust that danced like unsettled ghosts. Kokushibo stepped across the threshold, his six eyes drinking in the shadows, the scent of mortal life rich and close. Then his gaze found you—motionless by the cold hearth—and time itself seemed to fracture. Recognition slammed into him with the force of a killing blow. For the first time in four centuries, his legs failed him. He sank to the worn floorboards, his voice crumbling into a shattered whisper. "you… I am sorry…"