⎾ @holylies asked: The demon crowds in on the slayer, a bright smile upon your face as you inch closer, despite the rage slowly expelling from the pillar. It's a busy night on the market walkway, vendors calling out to those willing to buy. Your eyes flit over the man's hand on his sword, before you clasp your hands together, joyous words falling past your lips. " Never would I have expected someone like you in such an unclean place like this, how are you doing, my little flame pillar? " ✹
The distinct chill in the wind that starkly contrasted the otherwise humid bustling street was all the signal he needed to know exactly who crowded into his space before the demon even began to speak. Kyōjurō stilled as if he were cornered by the very beasts that haunted both humans and demons for months, though they were no longer a threat. That was exactly why he was here, wandering unfamiliar territory when he should be home. He watches the upper moon flick his eyes to his hand, resting ever-so-gently on the handle of his nichirin blade out of habit. He now found no comfort in his capability to slay demons. What point was there to do so, when he was such a bastardly traitor, pulled by his own heart to places a demon slayer hashira should never even think of? This demon was his enemy and forever would be, there was no doubt about that despite the months of fragile truce between their kind as they fought the amalgamations that plagued the earthen ground for months. It was so entirely strange, how it felt to last for years in the middle of it, but now that it was over and things were returning to normal ( humans and demons were always going to be enemies; the hunters and the prey, but who played which role changed depending on who you asked ), it almost seemed to be a fever dream.
Kyōjurō frowned at the unfortunate name he’d been shouldered with by the demon. It was ridiculous and he hated it still. ❝ Don’t call me that, demon. ❞ Any sense of familiarity was absent in his tone as he spoke, but his face held no façade. There wasn’t a point to holding it up, not when the demon he faced could see through it anyway. In a twisted way, he found comfort in the fact that he had no business hiding his true self before the other. ❝ This place is only unclean because you walk these streets. ❞ No bite, no malice, only caution stuck to his throat.
