ᴍɪᴄʜɪᴋᴀᴛsᴜ/ᴋᴏᴋᴜsʜɪʙᴏ

"ɪ ᴍᴜsᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏsᴇ. yᴇs.. ɪ ᴄʜᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ... ᴜɴɪʟ ɪ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ... ᴜɢʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs."

[crescent-blades]

Wish to send a courier to Yoriichi Tsugikuni? || Ao3

ᝰ.ᐟ☾. A mainly semi-selective blog dedicated to Kokushibo and Michikatsu. You are invited to drop by and request:

𖤐ˎˊ˗____ 𐙚˙Roleplays 𐙚˙ // 𐙚˙HC + Imagines𐙚˙

𖤐ˎˊ˗___. _ 𐙚˙Asks 𐙚˙ // 𐙚˙Theories 𐙚˙

»»-----------►ˎˊ˗ ・୨ RULES ୧・

©2024 / @crescent-blades: Do not steal, copy, repost or translate my work. All rights reserved.

[crescent-blades]

Short Hiatus Notice 

|| I just wanted to take a moment to make this post to share that I will be stepping back for a while. Along with upcoming examinations and personal matters to handle, there are things that have just been piling up on me.

I recognise that I have been taking numerous breaks lately, which also sometimes adds to my guilt, especially since I have many lovely requests pending; for which I am deeply grateful for. I had initially considered answering them gradually, but I ultimately decided that for my own peace, it would be best to simply abandon social media entirely.

I am not sure for how long I will be inactive, but hopefully my blogs will be up and running at a good pace as soon as things are settled. Please, do not hesitate to send in any requests or prompts, i will try my best to respond when I return. Thank you 💕 

[helloforgottenlibrary]

Yamamoto Kansuke Nyudo Doki, by Utagawa Kuniyoshi, 19th century

[barbucomedie]

Sword from Japan dated to the Late 16th Century on display at the Royal Armouries in Leeds, England

Photographs taken by myself 2024

[crescent-blades]

The elder trudged through the blinding snowstorm, the weight of the younger firmly secured on his back. Memories flooded his mind—days spent in rigorous training alongside his comrades, Rengoku and the others. They had endured countless hours, hauling heavy sacks of potatoes on their backs, running for hours uphill to improve their stamina. Michikatsu had endured much of the ravages of war, nights spent huddled beneath flimsy paper tents, the relentless rain soaking through, the cold mud seeping into his garments. He had endured it all—as the wind howled around him, the elder felt no frustration; he simply pressed on, undeterred by the biting chill and force.  

Michikatsu sensed the subtle movements made by him, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Perhaps it was merely a nightmare Yoriichi had experienced.. Maybe. He was uncertain about the abrupt turn of events—just yesterday, Yoriichi had showcased their advancements before they all shared a hearty meal together before going home. He.. had always known everything; within a single glance, he was able to discern the potential of anyone. Almost divine in his prowess... He was.. like a god—burning with a brilliance akin to the sun's, drawing everyone into his orbit. 

Today was meant to be another day of growth, a sparring session where Yoriichi would assess their progress. He would once again unveil the intricacies of his techniques, demonstrating the art of combat with an effortless grace. Some would struggle, stumbling over their own mistakes, while others would rely on his guidance—having to be spoonfed by him—as he would tailor their fighting styles just so they could keep up. All of them—they were like small, illiterate children in front of a mastermind, a genius like him. None of them compared..

 The sheer magnitude of his power was just... brilliant. Despite the irritation it caused him, stemming from the belief that Yoriichi had never truly labored for it—he also couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration. Despite that unnerving smile, those uncanny words spoken by him—he always found himself right behind, standing right in his shadows, absorbing every lesson, listening intently, and mirroring his every step. He was committed to mastering the sword with that same precision and grace.    

Yet, today.. was different. As the elder had set out to find him, he stumbled upon a sight that shattered his perception. Out of all people, Yoriichi lay unconscious on the floor. Still like a clock that had finally succumbed to the relentless passage of time, its hands frozen in a moment of stillness. Still and unmoving like he had been knocked out completely. The sight struck him with an unexpected weight, and for the first time, a profound worry gripped his heart.. He didn't know why; he couldn't tell, but it just did. His baby brother—this man who he looked up to.. just lay unconscious in front of him.. and now he felt as though.. that was his responsibility to take care of him— Just like he once used to..  

Ordering one of his men, his voice low and urgent as he instructed him to fetch a doctor—reasons for which he kept in secrecy. He was mindful of the other demon hunters, not wanting to stir unnecessary concern among them, and he knew that the younger might prefer to avoid the sudden spotlight as well.

He settled onto the floor next to the futon, beside him, patiently waiting and lightly placing his hand on his forehead to assess his temperature for any signs of fever. What could have happened to him? Had he been attacked by a demon? Was he suffering from dehydration? The man reflected deeply, his eyes shut, but his contemplation was soon interrupted. 

"I am sorry.."  The man's eyes widened. Did.. Yoriichi just say something? His voice was soft and barely audible, almost a mumble—unintelligible as the man regarded him with confusion. What did he say just now..? 'I am.. glory?'. Was this a joke..? Did this man truly choose to taunt him yet again, especially in such a bleak moment? He glanced at the younger, his expression unreadable as a mix of shock and irritation bubbled within him. After everything he had done, this was Yoriichi's way of expressing gratitude?

 "I am glory.." The elder reiterated, studying the younger intently, his expression serious. With a soft sigh, he quickly pushed aside those feelings, averting his gaze in mild annoyance. Perhaps Yoriichi was just simply feeling unwell. With a gentler tone, he sought to redirect the conversation.  "What happened to you..?"

[crescent-blades]

 The man studied the younger figure before him, his gaze sharpening as a bitter scoff threatened to escape his lips. The journey he had embarked upon was not one taken lightly; it was a path he had fought for. He had fought for it all—he had fought against the very threads of fate that sought to bind him to an early demise. He had opposed the very gods who had forsaken him—who had never cast a glance in his direction.  

He had shaken hands with the king of hell himself, just to get an ounce of that power. This is the way of life; this is what it has always been—a relentless contest that unfolded day after day, a struggle to ascend to greater heights. It was about pushing oneself beyond every conceivable limit, striving to unlock the full potential that lay dormant within. And these circumstances.. were no exception. 

"Oh..?" The demon mused, how naive do you have to be— How blissfully ignorant one must be.. to have such words escape their mouth? 

"Beneath the veils of fate.. you stand alone.. You are the only one who has always defied the very laws of world.."

"Yet it is you.. who speaks of the ways of living.."  

Irritation simmered within the elder, even as amusement flickered at the edges of his mind. Did Yoriichi truly grasp the weight of his words? All Yoriichi ever did was spit on him. Speak out his eerie and venomous words, belittling him in their every encounter. Every encounter felt like a display of Yoriichi's unearned superiority, a relentless overshadowing of the hard work and dreams that had consumed Michikatsu's life.  

 The dreams he had nurtured and the relentless effort he had poured into the art of the sword all lay in ruins, trampled by the effortless skill of a man who had never known true hardship. To dedicate one's life to a singular purpose, only to have it all crushed by someone who just happened to be born exceptionally talented. But what stung even more was the fact that Yoriichi's heart lay not in the art of swordsmanship but in trivial pursuits—family, games, and other mundane distractions. Yet.. for reasons he could not fathom, he did not feel too irritated.   

The man gazed at his brother, taking in the frail and weathered figure before him, the signs of failing health evident in every labored breath—he knew that death would soon claim him. Soon, this man would drop dead to his knees right in front of him, as the elder would be the one to stand up tall—finally being the one to surpass the younger. 

"Hollow words..." Yet, even in the face of Yoriichi's relentless taunts and the air of superiority he exuded, Michikatsu felt a deep pang of sorrow at the sight of his younger brother's tears. Yoriichi was the one person his lord wanted dead. Yoriichi was the only person in this world to have struck fear in the demon lord himself. He was the only person in the world—filled with darkness and bloodshed—that was able to spark hope in humanity..

He was the only family he had left—

 "..." 

—He.. needed to kill.. this lingering part of himself that still remembered his humanity. 

  “… now, you are merely a demon, having chosen servitude over our bond. I am deeply sorry.” 

Yoriichi was frail, old, and disgusting. Kokushibō could now see the world Yoriichi did, and he could see just how pathetic he had become. His bones were brittle, his muscles were weaker, and those deep, ugly wrinkles marred his skin. His once-vibrant, maroon eyes were now clouded and sightless—he was blind. In contrast to Kokushibo, who was now stronger than ever—yet... Yoriichi still pitied him? Once again, he had mocked him..

"You.. mock me.."

 His eyes narrowed; those feelings of disdain and hatred resurfaced once more. Even in this moment, when Yoriichi was at his lowest, he chose to utter those words. Once again, he decided to belittle him.

 "Just as always.. Yoriichi.."   

"You mock me once more.."

[cocoabiscuit9]

Decsendant and ancestor

[primrogemz]

So excited for this man for the upcoming movies

[crescent-blades]

X || @fallesto

Then came the fall. collapsing to the ground, the man surrendered to the moment. As he crumpled to the ground, the man poured every last bit of his strength into that singular act, not from physical exhaustion but from a deep-seated weariness that had taken root in his mind. Tired of carrying the weight of countless failures that only seemed to pile up. The world started to fade into black as his eyes started to flutter shut. This was the end of his tale, right here and now; he had nothing left to offer anyone.. His name, his legacy, all the dreams he had nurtured were destined to fade away into the darkness, much like the one that had long since claimed him.. Silence reigned in that moment, a stillness so profound it felt like the world itself had paused.. until—

"..Yoriichi..?" 

A voice, familiar yet distant, broke through the stillness; it carried a tone of firmness, yet there lay a subtle gentleness beneath it. 

"Yoriichi..!" 

The man attempted to rouse the younger one, maintaining a stoic demeanor, but concern began to creep in. Yoriichi had collapsed. Of all people—the strongest of them all, the perfect warrior, the one who never yielded to fatigue. Exuding an overwhelming and unmatched skill, he was the one who radiated vitality like the sun itself—now lay pathetically on the frigid snow.  

"Tsk..." The man knelt beside him, torn between the desire to take him back to safety and the reluctance to assist the very man who had always regarded him with contempt. the same man who had always looked at him with such disdainful eyes—those damn eyes that had ruined his life. Everything about him—his unsettling smile.. his perplexing words— 

With a sigh, the elder began to remove his haori, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. He carefully draped it around the younger, a gesture that felt so foreign.. yet so instinctive—

There was a tenderness within him that he himself struggled to recognize. All that power that the younger had was something he.. perhaps unwittingly... was impressed by. He was struck by the elegance with which he wielded his sword, the utmost precision of his movements that were both minimal and effective—no.. it was more than that— 

Carrying him on his back As the man started walking towards his residence. He was rather unsure, as of yet, where Yoriichi had resided. He knew it was somewhere along the hillside, but the exact locations eluded him. The cool breeze playfully ruffled his hair, the chill biting at his face like tiny icicles..

The cool breeze— Similar to the one since they were children. He remembers.. when the elder brother would always ensure that his younger sibling had some of his own clothes to ward off the cold in a weather like this, all while skillfully avoiding their father's watchful gaze. How he would provide him nourishing and warm meals from his own plate, how he would give him fur to stuff his pillows and futon with. Throughout their childhood, the elder brother had taken great care to ensure his younger twin's happiness, offering countless acts of kindness. All of that kindness—

yet, he didn't even take a single moment to even look at him.   

And here he was again—carrying him carefully on his back, making sure he was warm as he would take him to his residence, a place that he had rented for the time being; With careful hands, he laid him down on the futon and leave him be, perhaps call some doctors as he would sit by his side and wait for him to wake up. all this care and consideration would all go to waste, because he knew—-  -—that he would only be looked at by those scornful eyes once more. 

[lilenee-deactivated20260315]

[crescent-blades]

X || @fallesto

"How are you... still alive?" 

Standing in front of him, he saw his brother's old, decrepit form standing before him. His skin was lined with deep wrinkles, his hair was as white as silver—not a single black strand of hair—and his hands appeared skeletal. The man he once knew as his little brother.. was now this pathetic, old, and ugly creature. He almost felt a chuckle rise within him at the sight, but he didn't at the given circumstances—he had survived.   

He had survived the mark. The very mark that had claimed the lives of all the previous pillars who bore it.. It was akin to having a ticking time bomb attached to your very lifeline—it was like slowly but surely drowning in quicksand or like floundering in an endless sea with absolutely no hopes of rescue. It was a fate from which no one could escape.So.. how did he manage to survive it? Why did he survive it? Why did it always have to be him— 

—favoured by the gods themselves?  

“Brother—”  

That old, decrepit, and hoarse voice that called him brother—how pathetic it sounded. That same voice that had once been familiar with, a voice that had shared the most part in all his sufferings, was here once more. Fortunate enough to be sheltered by the gods, he alone remained under their protection, insulated from the world's harsh realities. This voice, relentless in its return, always emerged whenever his life settled into a stagnant tranquility—here it was again, ready to shatter that fragile peace once more.

“It’s time to go—”   He scoffed. That was easy for him to say, was it not? He had never trained a single minute in his life; he had never known the weight of relentless effort; he had no idea what it meant to struggle and strive—what it was like to fail over and over again, to feel the weight of frustration with one’s own limitations—what it was like to finally acheive everything you lad longed and faught for—

—- Only to witness all that effort shattered right in front of your very eyes. 

"You have no right.. to utter such words.."  To express the sentiments of a man who had experienced everything—to utter the words of one who truly understood.. No, he never truly understood him; he never made the effort. Throughout their lives, he offered only brief, enigmatic phrases, leaving him to decipher the meaning alone—as if he was nothing more than a lowly peasant unworthy of his attention.   

The demon remained there; his eyes were still slightly widened at the shock of seeing his brother. The light of the crimson moon illuminated the scene, casting a soft glow as the gentle breeze played with his hair and everything around him. He rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his blade, prepared to strike should his brother make any sudden movements. All those years, and the ideals his brother espoused now stood in stark contrast to the elder's beliefs—he found himself in disagreement with them all. Yet, for the first time, he felt a sense of alignment with his brother's perspective. Yes.. you are correct--—

 It is indeed time.. for this chapter to close.

Time to finally put an end to all of this, once and for all--— 

"Hmm... I see.."

 No.. no more being secondary to another.. no more being in the shadows of the other-- 

"... So then.. let us end this once and for all.."  

Drawing his sword, the demon assumed a combat stance, his pupils fully dilating to track the younger's movements. The breeze stirred, and the air was thick with anticipation... 

[crescent-blades]

❛Goodnight demon man :3❜

(Not sure if your accepting asks, I saw the prompt post so I thought I would send one 😁)

The night draped itself in a shroud of chill, the rain pouring from the outside weaving a symphony of croaks from the frogs that serenaded the stillness of his estate. Shadows danced in the stillness of his room, only illuminated by the flickering flames of the oil lamps that cast their delicate glow—like tiny beacons of hope in a world filled with darkness and bloodshed; destined to be snuffed out. Such were the ways of these lands.. this world was nothing but a somber place.

 Poised upon the precipice of fate, a samurai of his caliber was something many rivaling lords sought after. At any given moment, there could be a raid from a rivaling clan—a cold-blooded massacre unfolding in his very home. Yet, he remained unfazed. The idea of encountering the unexpected, of having to demonstrate his prowess in the face of sudden challenges—was something he found, perhaps unwittingly, thrilling. These thoughts held little weight for him, until— 

—"Goodnight, demon man :3" 

"!"

The samurai jolted awake at the abrupt voice resonating outside the shoji. An unfamiliar silhouette bled through the fine papers—a solitary man seated just outside his room. There were no others present—of that he was certain; had there been more, his subordinates would have warned promptly.

He swiftly approached the door, sliding it open and seizing the stranger by the hem of his kimono, lifting him off the ground as if he were nothing but a wayward chick.

"State your name!" he commanded, dagger poised at his throat's edge. The stranger only bore an unsettling grin—lips contorted into an odd 'w' shape, his tone was nonchalant, as serene as a child lost in the embrace of dreams, untouched by shame or ire. As foolish as a tailor who sews sleeves to the pocket holes—he had wished the male goodnight in a samurai's abode, as if they shared blood. Did he not realize where he was?

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑷𝑻. 𝑰.

❛  it was wrong of me to assume you're ever gonna change.  ❜ ❛  that's it? it was all just a lie?  ❜ ❛  shame on me for thinking you were a good person.  ❜ ❛  you're gonna pay for what you did to me.  ❜ ❛  you didn't hear a word of what i just said, did you?  ❜ ❛  believe me, you weren't my first choice either.  ❜ ❛  if you've got a problem with the way i handle things, just say so.  ❜ ❛  do you think we're gonna survive this?  ❜ ❛  what's your problem?!  ❜ ❛  will you please slow down a little?  ❜ ❛  i can't believe you would do something like that.  ❜ ❛  did it mean anything to you?  ❜ ❛  i'm never gonna be good enough for you.  ❜ ❛  we were just fooling ourselves this whole time.  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry, i didn't know where else to go.  ❜ ❛  i don't want to argue with you anymore.  ❜ ❛  fine. you were right, and i was wrong. happy now?  ❜ ❛  this day feels like it's never gonna end.  ❜ ❛  i didn't think you'd care so much.  ❜ ❛  this must be like the first time you were nice to me.  ❜ ❛  out of all the people here, why do i have to be stuck with you?  ❜ ❛  do you want to go on a date with me?  ❜ ❛  honestly, i don't think i wanna leave the house today.  ❜ ❛  were you ever planning on telling me about all of this?  ❜ ❛  i wish i had another choice.  ❜ ❛  don't flatter yourself, a fifth-grader could've done this as well.  ❜ ❛  you're the most insufferable person i have ever met.  ❜ ❛  here, you look like you need this more than me right now.  ❜ ❛  oh, just so you know, i don't ever lose this game.  ❜ ❛  just let me sleep for five more minutes.  ❜ ❛  alright, is there anything else we have to do before they arrive?  ❜ ❛  do you believe in ghosts?  ❜ ❛  i wish we had more time together.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to leave just yet ... you could stay the night if you wanted to.  ❜ ❛  where are you taking me?  ❜ ❛  trust me, this is the last thing i want to do.  ❜ ❛  i need more time to think about what i want.  ❜ ❛  why didn't you say anything earlier? we could've avoided this whole mess.  ❜ ❛  i don't feel so good, i think i may be getting sick.  ❜ ❛  help me! please!  ❜

[arimav2]

Demon Slayer

[cocoabiscuit9]

Tsugikuni brothers - blinded by rage

[kokusfluffyhair]

Dating Kokushibo Aesthetic

[crescent-blades]

[X]

@official-butterfly-sisters

In these lands.. his presence was met with a palpable dread that enveloped all—men, women, and children alike. The very air thickened around him, a weight so intense it felt as though it could even slice through flesh and bone.

Even the bravest of warriors, those trained to face the fiercest of foes—would falter at the mere hint of his arrival. They would drop to their knees, trembling, as they would plead for mercy, offering up their meager possessions in a desperate bid to escape his grasps. He had grown accustomed to this treatment, however—so much so that it had turned into an expectation..

A girl with so much resolve, so much bravery, who had only momentarily hesitated in his presence—she was unfazed by the looming threat he posed, and she did not care if she would likely lose her life in this confrontation. She pressed on; despite all the odds stacked against her, she continued to give it her all—just like a true warrior. 

No.. it was not just the physical strength or the skills that mattered; it was the mental resolve, the aptitude, and the inner strength. He had seen many fighters possessing great talent, the power, yet lacking in the willingness to kill, the willingness to stay composed, and to give it your all during a fight. It was a power—one that many seasoned warriors did not possess—it was a power that could enable even the weakest to reveal an unprecedented strength—it was a power that burned fiercely within this girl.    

All this power—yet she couldn't even lay a finger on him.    

The demon evaded effortlessly, each strike only serving to distance him further from her—and as much as the demon appreciated her determination, he couldn't help but find the situation rather amusing. To give it your all.. only to realize that none of the efforts yielded results?  

Wasn't it lamentable to have all your hard work rendered futile?     

 Flower Breathing 6th form: Whirling Preach!  

The demon's eyes widened ever so slightly—so... she was a breath user. With all her might, she launched herself into the air, twisting her arms as she brought the slash down upon him. Her technique was nearly flawless; with further experience and training, she would undoubtedly reach her full potential. The sword descended, aimed at the demon, but ultimately struck only the ground. 

"'Flower Breathing'.. I see.."  

The demon's voice emerged again from the rear, resonating through the thick foliage. With each passing moment, the air only seemed to thicken, amplifying the growing tension that hung between them. 

"It is one that I have not encountered.. it must be new.. the way you wield your sword as if you're gliding, the fluidity in your movements suggests it must be a derivation of water. Breathing.. not bad at all.."   

"Tell me.. did you make it..?"