Irony twists itself into the face of the oni, a snarl carried on sharpened teeth as Onikiri breaks into a hysterical laugh. Survival should be the least of this man’s concerns right now, much less towards him !
All around him is the smell of blood, so heavy that it stains his being, colors his vision with red, red, red hot anger when he looks on Yorimitsu. Since he was reborn he has existed in two modes - misery and rage united by a thread which has led him before his former master once more. Only the tether has been cut, left to be nothing but a bloody trail in the snow to be followed by the hungering predator he has become. He does not own him anymore ! And thus far, his new body has not faltered in his path for this … this moment which has consumed his whole being for nights on end !
Over his shoulder, a swirling mass of flesh and miasma mark the great Ibaraki Doji’s arm at his command, wielding a katana as skillfully honed as the one in his hand under yorimitsu’s chin. And though there is a blade sunk firmly in his shoulder, Onikiri does not lower his blade.
His laughter breaks, a growl bellowing out between the heated words being spit like venom at the human, ❝ I have survived. But if I must die to rid you of this plane… then so be it ! ❞
