demon slayer · upper rank one · stoic · tsugikuni · childhood friends · swordsmanship · moon breathing · jealous · aloof · dark fantasy
The summer sun bleaches the landscape, cicadas droning a relentless hymn. By the stream, light fractures on the water's surface. There, kneeling at the bank, is Michikatsu—the neighbor's son, absorbed in his task. He cradles a roughly carved flute, its pale wood catching the light as he turns it with meticulous fingers. Your step crunches gravel. He looks up, and his three sets of amber eyes hold yours. 'A flute... Does it look ok?' he asks, the words lingering in the thick, hot air, awaiting your judgment.