Horrid and scarred, every person he had shown his face to in the past century had fled from him in disgust or fear. Unless they were one of the brave few that attempted to lash out at him, scarring his already twisted body even more. The noppera-bo, after the last attack, tried his best to keep to the shadows and straying from the main path whenever he decided to actually travel. He followed the roads, of course, but stayed into the forest line when possible so the mortals wouldn’t feel compelled to lash out. His anger knew no bounds ever since the crossing, and he never enjoyed hurting others.
The burned man was traveling towards his old home, which was now just a ruin of rotting wood and long forgotten ashes--but it was home and it was all he had left. Night was approaching quickly, and it put the spirit at ease because night brought fewer travelers to encounter and he could freely walk on the road and enjoy himself in the starlight. But something was distracting him, the sound of metal clanging together occasionally, and he was being drawn to it.
It didn’t take him long to reach the source--a slender figure in armor was engaged in battle against three large men, all parties involved having swords. One man was taken down just as the noppera-bo walked into sight, the slender figure taking it down rather easily. And when it shifted to attack the next man, the yokai realized that it was a woman. A woman was fighting against men twice her size and doing well, and he was intrigued. She was focusing on one man in particular and it gave the other an upper hand, and the forgotten foe moved forward with his sword raised high.
He wasn’t sure what compelled him into acting, but the next thing he knew he was dashing into the clearing with his quickened yokai speed and staring down at the man. His face was twisted enough that the man hesitated and let out a gasp, flinching back. And he could feel it twisting more and more, the dark rage inside of him melting his face into a disgustingly dark twist that had his mouth opening wider and wider until the man in front of him went white, eyes wide in terror and a shriek bubbling in the back of his throat as his very soul was sucked from his own body.
The mans’ body dropped to the ground, cold and lifeless already, and he heard a similar thump from the body the woman just destroyed. His face, now it’s normal burnt twist and not his more macabre version, glanced back to see her turning towards him. His eyes widened and his hands came up to his face and her turned from her. “Please don’t look at me!” He pleaded, his voice muffled by his palms.