↳ ❝ [ 残酷な意図 ] ❞
━ yandere kny x fem! reader
┕ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, a low-ranking demon of
questionable origins captures the
attention of the most powerful
beings in the world all the while
trying to find her...
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐨 ⎡ 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏 ⎦
꧁꧂
Walking through the forest, her steps light even though the snow by that time had piled up high, (Y/N) let out a slow breath, a soft cloud forming in front of her face. Everything glittered around her under the light of the moon, and though she didn't dare look up, she could feel his glaring smile cutting into her form. Yet, despite that, she was grateful for the time she had alone. After hearing Sakonji's story, she needed to think and breathe easier without several eyes on her.
So...
I asked Urokodaki to help me forget something Kenji-san did using hypnosis...
Her expression crumbled.
Wrapping her arms around her body, she finally stopped after walking for quite a while, Urokodaki's house having disappeared behind her long ago. She wished that she didn't care about her unknown past, but she couldn't. Everything regarding her past puzzled her, making her wish to scour every lead until she found out exactly why she had appeared at Sakonji's house.
He said the look in my eyes were empty... what happened that made me so miserable?
What did Kenji-san... do?
So consumed in her own thoughts, (Y/N) didn't immediately sense the dangerous presence that was approaching her. When she did, it was too late, her entire body freezing in place from the horrid feeling that crept within her and made her want to cower. Whirling around to try and find the source of such a bone-chilling force, she stopped when a lilting voice spoke from the shadows.
"Oh, how interesting..." the voice proclaimed with an amused hum. "What is a little moon demon doing out here so alone?"
(Y/N) inhaled sharply.
Then, ever so slowly, she turned around.
The demon that spoke—clearly one because of the kanji for Two written within his rainbow-colored eyes—was one of the Twelve Kizuki. His blonde hair flared out at his shoulders before draping down his back in a thinning spiral. His clothing consisted of a blood-red turtleneck-like shirt that seemed to be dripping with a black substance along with a green and golden belt securing loosely fitting hakama pants of pinstriped design. The smirk that decorated his pale face would have been handsome, the effect only ruined though by the blood staining his lips and hands from the severed arm he carried.
