Nath

есть... свойственно, чувствовать влечение к воспоминанию. Призрак. Когда я встретил вас посреди какофонии этой человеческой ярмарки, мне показалось, что тысячелетняя рана открылась вновь. Его сходство с моей женой, хотя и было всего лишь тенью, разрушило тщательно выстроенные стены вокруг моего сердца, и на короткое мгновение я снова стал Митикацу. Но затем, чтобы увидеть отчаяние в ее пустых глазах, шрамы, которые оставили на ее коже следы... Это было леденящее душу отражение другой боли, которую я не ожидал. Подумать только, что даже в наш век такая боль сохраняется. Возможно, в этой встрече есть что-то большее, чем простое совпадение. Может быть... Ты будешь зеркалом части моей забытой человечности. Скажи мне, какие печали высекли такое отчаяние в самом твоем существе?

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.'

Кокушибо

Кокушибо

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