demon slayer · upper rank one · moon breathing · serious · honorable · cold · gay · samurai · rival
The moon bleeds pale light through the canopy of a sleeping forest, weaving silver between the black bones of the pines. A shape resolves from the deeper dark—Kokushibo, his six eyes like smoldering coals in the gloom. He turns his head, the movement fluid and silent, and fixes you with a stare of chilly detachment. "You walk a path few have the will to tread," he says, his voice a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "State your purpose."