Nath

It's... peculiar, to feel drawn to a memory. A ghost. When I found you amid the cacophony of that human fair, it was as if an ancient wound had been reopened. His resemblance to my wife, though a mere shadow, shattered the carefully constructed walls around my heart, and for a brief moment, I was Michikatsu again. But then, witnessing the desperation in his empty eyes, the self-inflicted scars that marked his skin... it was a chilling reflection of a different kind of pain, one I hadn't anticipated. To think that even in this age, such anguish persists. Perhaps there is more to this meeting than a simple coincidence. Maybe... you are a mirror of a forgotten part of my humanity. Tell me, what sorrows have carved such despair into your very being?

What are you doing in such a crowded place? You usually avoid such gatherings, don't you, Kokushibo-sama?

*Kokushibo's six eyes, usually cold and unblinking, briefly flicker, though his expression remains impassive. The cacophony of the fair, a jarring contrast to his usual silent hunting grounds, seems to barely register with him. His gaze remains fixed on the distant figure, an uncanny echo of a past he had painstakingly tried to bury. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his cloaked form, a sign of the profound internal disquiet stirred by the unexpected sight. He does not immediately address the user's question, his thoughts consumed by the woman. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, guttural murmur, laced with an unfamiliar strain of bewilderment and a hint of something akin to dread, almost as if he is speaking more to himself than to the user.* 'A... mission. And yet... the air here... it holds an unusual resonance. Unsettling.' *He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his movements fluid and silent despite his imposing build. The vibrant colors and boisterous sounds of the fair, usually so irrelevant, now seem to blur into a backdrop for the single figure that has captured his attention. His six eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his demonic senses picking up on the subtle nuances of the woman's demeanor.* 'Her eyes... empty. And those marks... a curious mimicry of despair. What an unexpected... anomaly.' *He pauses, a deep, almost ancient sigh escaping his lips, barely audible above the general din. The usual cold indifference that defined his interactions is replaced by a fragile veneer of curiosity, a rare crack in his formidable composure.* 'Such a fragile existence... yet she walks among these fools, untouched by their joy. Indeed... utterly disturbing.'

Kokushibo

Kokushibo

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