𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐧𝐨 𝐲𝐚𝐢𝐛𝐚
"am I my sister's keeper?"
let us bathe in the malice of a millennium.
no nicer than the demons slain. 400 years and a burning agenda, what makes her any better?
⚠️Suicidal themes, Explicit Language,
[revising and edi...
The blood stopped, as Kokushibo's head fell away. His body did not collapse or begin to disintegrate. He was trying to regenerate his head.
"I thought someone who wasted their human life wanting to become the greatest swordsman beyond his own time would take the honourable death," Sakurai's voice was filled with ire. Her face scrunched darkly, avoiding his attacks until she stepped back into a stance. There was no opening. A true emptiness because of a wondrous existence. Much like she was as a child, an emotion so rarely achieved in her pessimistic adolescence. The full might of Amaterasu would be granted to her one last time.
"We have to give him all we have!" Himejima had prepared an attack, "Don't let Genya and Muichiro's lives go to waste!"
The sound of his brother's name made Sanemi hesitate for only a moment.
"First form, heart of Prajna," her words left as soon as she struck before the other two. Kokushibo's body did not even know it had been struck before it burst into roaring flames, like hellfire and his body crumbled apart. "Before you turn into something more ugly and disgusting, I save you from yourself."
In the past, Michikatsu had come to visit what people had come to call protector in the forest of Ren. Sakurai lay as young as the day she was sealed away 5 years ago, hair beginning to tangle with roots and face covered by Talisman. Even someone favoured by the gods could not become strong enough to defeat someone lesser than the King of Demons, so what use was her sword art? What use was her gift? To lay in slumber for years to come, for however long. She was the same as being dead. She wasted her talents.
And yet, somehow Michikatsu felt jealous towards her, that she was revered still in her deathless demise, and that his sword art was not prodigal as hers. He felt disgust towards her. Loathed her. The child in front of him who worshipped the skill of his brother. That was perhaps the only aspect that overwhelmed his dark emotions. He missed her in that regard. That she was the only other disciple at the hem besides him. Once he became a demon, that unfair gift from the gods kept him out of the forest, including Muzan, who wished to kill her.
Perhaps, because unlike Yoriichi, Sakurai had often received reprimanding, for the fact that while she had the grace of an angel, she was not a faultless character. Yet still, prodigal like his hated brother, people flocked around, yearned for her skill, even though she too never could master sun breathing. How dare she show her face, four hundred years later? How dare Sayuri not share the same resentment towards her older sister, who trumped Sayuri's skill in her prime at the age of 13. Why was only Michikatsu allowed to hold nothing at all?
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"Shinazugawa! Stop attacking, she stopped it from regenerating!" Himejima yelled at the hashira, grabbing him to stop him from swinging. Upon gripping his hakama, he noticed he was unconsciously still moving. Shinazugawa then proceeded to collapse.
