Chapter Text
If he focused hard enough on the picture before him Kyojuro swore that he could hear the soft rhythmic melody coming from the painted depiction of a furin twirling away in the wind.
His father would always laugh when he voiced these thoughts, it was one a parent would give when their child said something so silly that it just made sense. Tossing his head back the older Rengoku would let his fiery locks spill across his shoulders while releasing a laugh so hearty Kyojuro couldn’t help but to join in. Through their shared delight Kyojuro's line of sight never once wavered from the delicately painted image of his parent’s love.
Located on his father’s lower left leg was his pride and joy, his soulmate mark. A single glass wind chime adorned with a light blue tassel spun suspended in the air as lush golden ginkgo leaves floated around it.
He observes his father as he brushes away the fabric of his yukata that obscures the top portion of his mark to gaze at it with bright eyes filled with love. Normally the image stayed stationary, but right now the feather light strokes that made up the wind chimes tassel swirled around in an imaginary breeze.
“Well would you look at that! Your mother must be especially happy if our mark is moving around so much.”
Speaking of his mother, it’s at that moment that Rengoku Ruka slides the nearest door to their place on the engawa open to reveal herself— a babbling Senjuro swaddled to her chest as she shuffles about. Kyojuro watches while his mother pauses in her actions to take in her husband and son staring intently at her entrance. A delicate brow raises in question as she fully steps through the opening.
In her free hand rests a plate of black sesame cookies.
Her favorite snack.
Turning to make eye contact with his father once more he finds he is also fighting to hold back another round of belly aching chuckles from the shared realization.
“My son,” a large hand is placed in his short but wild hair as he regains some of his composure. Out of the corner of his eye he sees his mother take a seat just to his right, adjusting to settle his little brother on a nearby pillow. A blinding smile stretches on his father’s still young looking face when he turns to stare at her.
“I pray to the God’s that you’ll soon find your own soulmate. One who loves food so much that it will cause your own mark to come alive and move.”
Laughter fills the Rengoku estate once more when a cookie smacks his father in the middle of his forehead.
It is Kyojuro’s fondest memory.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
Typically, when one hits the tender age of ten their soulmate mark will appear.
Not everyone is blessed with the gift of another half, it’s not uncommon but some do go their entire lives without attaining a mark. For those lucky enough to possess one the ceremony for it was old yet grand— with the rise of the sun on their tenth birthday an image much like a tattoo would begin weaving itself onto a random patch of skin. By the time the sun sets a fully flushed out piece of artwork representing one’s self and their matching pair could be seen somewhere on their body.
Each mark was different in its art style and what was chosen to represent its bearers. Thus making the celebration a whole spectacle intent on finding the matching image.
Now, Kyojuro was a special case.
He never received the traditional tenth birthday feast as he was born already possessing the beginnings of his soulmate mark.
Rengoku Shinjuro would hold any and all hostage while he told them the story of how his first born came into the world screaming with an intensity that shouldn’t belong to a newborn and a right arm already speckled with faded colors trying to take shape. He would go on triads proclaiming how proud he was of Kyojuro, often telling stories of how every Rengoku before them each bore their own mark for they were a strong lively clan. But he was the first on the family’s record to be brought into the world already brandishing the inklings of a claim.
It was unusual as much as it was a blessing. His father promised that he would do everything in his power to make sure that he would find his soulmate. After all he must have shared a special enough connection with this person if they both were marked since birth.
Whereas his father showed nothing but excitement, his mother made sure to cover the importance of what is to come with the responsibility of having a soulmate.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
"My son, what would you like to know tonight."
His father may have the suns light to teach him all that a man should know of the world, how to swing a sword and use his strength for the greater good. But, it is in the dead of night by the light of the moon that his mother whispers to him the lessons and stories that he will need to go far in life.
Forcing himself to sit straight and still he gathers his thoughts so that he may ask the most important question in his mind first. Even if the urge to spring up and after the hoards of fireflies buzzing around the gardens calls to him and his restless nature he knows how important these meetings are to not only her but to his future self so he will try his best to remain mature and quite.
A cup of steaming tea, chamomile from the smell of it, is placed at his side with a pointed look to relax. His mother took their talks of soulmates very seriously and he will do the same. With all his energy he moves to mimic the graceful movements of his mother as he takes the cup in hand and turns to place his full attention on her.
"How did you and father meet?"
"Kyojuro, you already know how we met. Would you wish to waste your night listening to a silly tale instead of learning something new?"
"Yes!" The battle to stay mature and regal is lost as he leans forward, a hand moving to gently lay on top of his mothers rounded stomach. "I would like to hear it again because you said that the baby should be able to hear us speak. I want them to know about how our parents met too."
At this he spies how her normally warm crimson eyes take on a shine, a single pale hand moves to encase his where it lays on her stomach as the other moves in habit to hide the slowly growing smile blooming on her face. Kyojuro always knows that he has somehow said the right thing when his mother has to cover her mouth to hide her true, slightly crooked smile.
"Alright, as you wish my love."
Barely containing the whoop of excitement that longs to leave his mouth he instead busies himself with taking a nice long sip of the cooling tea in hand.
"As you already know, your soulmate is the only one in the world who will see you for who you truly are. There are no secrets between that can be hidden as two souls are one and one soul is two. No matter how hard one tries to hide, their true feelings will always shine through the mark that was bestowed by the Gods."
He knows the story by heart at this point from how often he pesters both his parents to hear it. But there was just a way that his mother had with words that made each retelling feel like the first time.
"When your father first swept into my town I thought that he was a boorish man. He spoke nothing but loud questions and harsh words that frighten the elders when they wouldn't come up with an answer he liked. Shinjuro barged about disrupting the peace without a care all in the name of a mission that only a few aside from himself believed in at the time, including myself. "
A wispy sigh slips into the night air as his mother begins to rub her stomach in small lazy circles, eyes hazy as she recalls her memories.
"I held no intentions of conversing with him, not when he spouted nonsense about demons and other creatures hiding in the night. I aimed to avoid him whenever our paths seemed like they were about to cross. And especially not after he so rudely walked into my father’s store inquiring about any and all missing people in the last month, scaring away all the other customers in the process. That's when--"
"--when grandfather started smacking him with a broom!" Unable to help himself Kyojuro cuts in to retell his favorite moment of the tale.
"Yes. I will never forget how your father looked with straw sticking out of his hair as his nose grew as red as a tomato. Who would have thought that the great Flame Hashria was suspectable to hay fever?" She offers up a small chuckle. "During the whole duration of his time in my village my own mark was coming alive with a mixture of restlessness, determination, concern, and then later hopelessness. I had always known that my soulmate was one who possessed a heart much to big for their chest as they always seemed to be worried about something."
"So, you can imagine my surprise when I moved to apologize to the strange, sneezing blond man for my grandfathers behavior by removing the hay off his person to only have my hand graze the skin of his cheek and have the mark adorning my leg blaze to life. I could barely believe that the man who I was meant to share the rest of my life with, who I imaged to be a soft hearted frail thing, turn out to be the wildfire that stormed into my village and brought life into it."
"And that's when you slapped him!"
Smiling brightly he tries as hard as he can to not laugh at his mother’s ruffled appearance.
It's rare to see his mother’s face ignite in a blush. The coloring is light and delicate compared to the full body one his father sports, but in the dead of night he is still able to catch it.
"It was not on purpose! I was overcome with emotion and he was reaching out to cup my face while leaning forward. Soulmate or not a complete stranger was attempting to kiss me and I had reacted appropriately."
Parent and child stare at each other in shock at the small out of character outburst his mother has just given. It is uncommon for his mother to raise her voice above the polite tones one uses in a room, neither know what to do at this suddenly display. A full minute of staring passes before Kyojuro finally erupts in a fit of giggles, quickly getting followed by the softer twinkling laughter of his mother. Shuffling back over to her side he presses himself into her lap, careful of her belly, to poke at the spot on her leg where her own mark resides.
“When I meet my soulmate I want us to be just like you and father! I will do anything I can to make sure that they are happy!”
”I pray that your first meeting goes smoother than ours did.”
He may only be five right now but he already has several grand acts of love planned to surprise his future spouse, like surprising them with poetry. That always got a reaction out of his mother when his father did so.
“Oh! Oh! You said that felt father’s emotions! Will I be able to do the same right now? Can I know if they’re bored! Or hungry? Do you think they will like sweet potatoes? How about—“
Ramblings broken by a chaste kiss on the forehead his attention is brought back towards his mother.
“You’re still much too young for your connection to form.” He can feel the pout tugging at his lips.
“But—“
“Do not be impatient.” The rest of his retort dies on his tongue at the light scolding.
“Your first contact through the mark you share will be special. You’ll want to make sure that you can understand it when the moment occurs.”
Full on pouting now he places a hand upon the area where his mark resides. In a style which his father calls ‘sketch like’ lays a grouping of flowers and leaves decorating the space on his right forearm. Thick and thin black lines meld together to contain the vibrant shades of orange, red, and gold that create the maple leaves he can only guess represent himself due to the coloring. Intertwined with the large leaves he can make out various shades of pink that create the many sakura petals speckled across his arm. They start their chase just under the outside of his elbow before looping twice around his forearm before ending their game above the inside of his wrist.
Ever since his mark fully manifested last year he’s been mapping out each and every petal imprinted on his tan skin with pur fascination.
“Will mine move like yours and fathers?”
“Unfortunately that won’t happen until you and your soulmate first touch.”
“What?!”
Hurriedly shushed due to the late hour a small hand is slapped over his own mouth. A wordless apology given with slumped shoulders and wide eyes.
“You request a story and yet you only listen to the parts you want my silly boy.” Gently prying his hand from his mouth she adjusts his arm so that his forearm is on display once more. "The God's made this so that you may be able to find your matching pair.”
The vibrant colors stick out even with nothing but the moons light and muted glow from hanging lanterns to illuminate it. Pale fingers move with a featherlight touch as they follow the trail of foliage, almost causing Kyojuro to break out into a fit of giggles from the action.
“Upon first contact you should feel your mark spark with heat and then move. After that first meeting then your petals shall stir according to whatever emotion they’re feeling.”
Letting his arm go with one last gentle caress Kyojuro feels excitement coursing through his veins at the prospect of his mark becoming animated. Would the flowers chase each other? Swirl around his arm? Or would they spin in place and rattle around like the many others he's seen on not only his parents but on strangers in town.
“It'll move just like yours and fathers?”
“Just like mine and your father’s.”
Letting his fingers trace the familiar path of his mark Kyojuro smiles.
I can’t wait to meet you.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
He’s eight years old when he first feels the mark on his arm begins to collapse in on its self. And just as his mother had feared he’s much too young to understand the complexity of emotions that pushes to the forefront of his still developing mind. Yet old enough to know that something is very, very, wrong with his other half. He use to spend hours simply staring at his forearm longing for his soulmate to reach out, to know what they were feeling so that he could get a sense of who they were.
But this pain that radiates so deeply to his core is something he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
The marked appendage is clutched towards his chest as another wave of hurt crashes over his shivering form. Physical pain is an aspect of life he is slowly becoming familiar with since he started his sword training. But the sharp sting of a practice sword is nothing compared to the sensation of being squished together too tightly. It was as if someone was treating his arm like an orange and was trying to get every single drop of juice out.
And as badly as the physical aspect was it pales in comparison to the intensity of the mental side. An anger cold and deep burrows itself deep within his chest. It is nothing Kyojuro has ever felt before and it scares him.
Pain and anger radiate throughout his frame tied together by a hollowness of another emotion that he cannot yet put a name to.
Why was his soulmate so angry? Who was hurting them?
Heaving a raspy breath he moves to stand, the emotions buzzing around his skull don’t make the task easy but he must do so. Unknowing of how long he’s been laid out on the gravel path of the garden he stumbles towards a patch of grass to sit. No one has came looking for him so he couldn’t have been on the ground for that long. With each step taken the fog of negative emotion begins to drain from his mind. It seems that what was affecting his soulmate has come to an end.
That fact does nothing to calm the unease replacing the previous emotions from moments ago. Something has deeply hurt his intended and he doesn’t kno—-
A scream tears itself out of his throat before he can stop it.
While shuffling to sit on the soft grass the sleeve of his training attire had shifted to reveal his arm. Kyojuro had long since grown accustomed to seeing the intense shades of red and pinks etched into his skin, but what he wasn’t ready for was the sickly greenish black color bleeding into the edges of the image.
What should I do?!
“Kyojuro! Kyojuro, what’s wrong?”
Unaware of when he started crying Kyojuro finds his mother’s blurry face in front of him drenched with worry.
“My mark! It’s turning colors!”
Gentle yet firm hands tug his arm free from where he has it pressed towards himself. He made sure to force his eyes shut, too afraid of what he already knows lays there. Only the shaky continuing of his sobs fills the air between them while he’s examined.
“Look at your mark,” refusing the command normally bright eyes remain firmly closed. “There’s no sign of the sumi-e on your arm, Kyojuro.”
Just hearing the term forces a shudder to rack his frame. The sumi-e, otherwise known as the ink wash. The art style when created by hand was beautiful but when it’s applied to a soulmate mark it signals only one thing. That the reaper has arrived at their door.
“It was there! I felt them through the bond a-and they were in so much pain that it hurt me!” They hadn’t even met yet and they were already going to be ripped away from each other!
“They’re dying! They’re dying and I can’t do anything about it!”
“Open your eyes and see that I only speak the truth.”
He really doesn’t want to but something in his mother’s voice makes him obey. A teary eye cracks open to glance down. “What?” Both eyes open now he takes in the appearance of his mark. The veins of black that threatened to overtake the light pink of sakura petals could no longer be seen.
“But…it was there…. I don’t understand…”
Gaze reluctantly moving towards his mother he ignores the urge to lean forward and seek the comfort of her embrace. His mark needed to stay within his sight in case it changed again.
“If what you say is true, and I believe you, then your soulmate is not going to have an easy life.”
Her own crimson eyes are filled with another emotion that he doesn’t yet know as they look upon the petals in his mark. But, even if he can’t place a name to the expression he knows that it is only showing due to a slip in the Rengoku matriarch’s mask.
“My son, you were blessed with great strength and a good head on your shoulders. I don’t know what it means that you were given your mark so early in life but it appears that your soulmate will need your help.”
Placing a gentle hand on his cheek she moves to clear the last of the tears that cling there. At this he leans into her warmth soaking it up.
“Until the two of you meet you have to promise that you’ll hone your skills and use your strength to protect them when the time comes.”
She was right. Maybe this was why the universe paired them together, so that Kyojuro could defend them from whatever was causing them harm.
“I swear to always protect them. No matter what.”
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
The light cough his mother has picked up over the summer progresses into shorten breaths and fainting spells. No longer does his mother engage in their walks to town or their nightly stroll in the gardens as the many doctors who arrive at the estate all request she remains on bedrest to preserve her strength.
Kyojuro does all he can to cheer up his family and keep their house warm with love. Despite the fact that the twirling furin on his parent’s legs has slowly started to take on a sickly grey hue he will persevere.
After all, if his own mark has a pension for changing colors before clearing up within minutes then his parents should do the same.
They just had to wait it out.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
A strange but interesting boy who’s smaller but older than him starts living in their house. He prefers to stay to himself, often talking to the curiously colored snake that’s always wrapped around his neck. But that doesn’t stop Kyojuro and Senjuro from shadowing him every time he leaves the confines of his room.
Days turn into weeks and weeks into months before their new brother (and how exciting is that! A brand new brother!) no longer positions himself to see every entrance in the room or attempt to make himself as small as possible. He's still small but he joins the pair of blonds as they run through the gardens at night collecting fireflies and beetles to bring to their mother to view. At this Obanai still lingers in the entrance of the room instead of kneeling at Kyojuro's and Senjuro's side next to their mothers futon. But with each visit to her newly appointed sick room he inches closer and closer and that's a win in Kyojuro's book.
It takes a long time but he eventually learns that his new brother also has a soulmate mark. This one located on his back bearing sakura blossoms instead of petals such as his own. The back is a odd place to have a soulmark, it's not easy to show off that piece of skin in public without getting deemed as weird, but even then Obanai keeps the image wrapped up tightly in bandages like the ones plastered on the lower half of his face.
He’s odd but having another body around is doing wonders for distracting Senjuro from why their mother can no longer play with them.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
The frequency with which Kyojuro feels his soulmate's emotions is not often but when it happens it always leaves him breathless.
He's heard that everyone feels their soulmates emotions differently when filtered through the bond. His parents say that theirs's feel like a summer breeze washing over a hot day alongside whatever emotion is coming through. And some of the strangers running the food stalls in town who found their pair all gave different answers as well. Some felt like soft caresses and other's said that they felt like a rock was being thrown at them.
The majority of the emotional outbursts he gets feel like the beginnings of a storm on the horizon accompanied by a anger of an intensity he only ever feels from the shared connection. Other times he catches glimpses of joy, disgust, and entertainment. Whatever the emotion is at the time it’s always so intense and fascinating. It always leaves his skin tingling and head reeling.
Sometimes, on random days but always in the early hours of the morning when the sun has not yet risen, he catches the briefest flashes of more somber emotions. There’s no way to plot when these events will arise but he has noticed that every year at the end of summer a foreign ache will creep up his arm and fill his chest.
When this takes place he tries to focus on sending soothing thoughts through the bond.
Why are you sad? How can I help?
It’s unsure if his emotions are being received through their connection but he doesn’t dare stop the ritual of reaching out.
When we finally meet I will make sure to cherish you.
Kyojuro can’t help but long for the day that their paths cross so he can comfort them in person.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
Days blur together as the stunning water paint appearance of his parent’s soulmate mark turns from vibrant to dull then to a pale grey, before finally taking on the inky appearance of the sumi-e. Ginkgo leaves no longer engage in their play with the furins tassel as they now remain forever stationary in a monochrome mimic of their glory days.
The words of wisdom, late night escapades, and tender hugs she gave are now replaced with an emotion felt long ago that he can finally understand.
Loneliness.
Watching his fathers collapsed form mourn in the gardens a hand absentmindedly strokes the spot his mark lives. An attempt has already been made to offer comfort but it was met with louder sobs and a getting trapped in a half hour long embrace. For all their sakes Kyojuro decided that it’s best to leave his father to grieve by himself. Again.
How do you survive with all this pain?
From his place in the hallway he can just barely make out Senjuro’s quieter version of sorrow. Soft sniffles and the occasional whimper reach his ears and break his heart. His brother is at an age where he barely understand why their mother isn't in the house anymore and it hurts every time Kyojuro has to remind him that no, their mother will not be coming home for diner.
Straining his hearing he tries to listen out for Obanai but is only met with the soft shuffling that comes with pacing the wooden floor. All the work they did with getting the shorter boy to open up over the years has been destroyed leaving him to fall back into his reclusive ways.
Pulling in a deep breath he holds it, counts to five, then exhales. This is done until the stinging of his own tears and tightness of his throat are just an afterthought.
It’s been nearly a month since his mother’s passing but the hole she left behind in their home is deep and growing.
Despite the harrowing loss he will remain strong for his family, current and future, just as his mother had wished. He will give them time to be bare and broken before building them all back up to be stronger.
Does it ever get better?
As always there is no reply to his thoughts.
Emotions now under control he makes his way to the kitchen, a smile plastered onto his face.
Lunch must be prepared.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
Harsh words, rocks, profanities, empty bottles and books.
Those are just some of the things his father has thrown at his person over the years.
Kyojuro is fourteen now and has become familiar with the treatment his father gives. Long gone is the man who used to ruffle his hair and collect kites on his travels. What lives in their house now is a shell of a broken man that he continues to put together again and again only to watch the pieces fall apart.
“You’re nothing.”
“That is not true, father.”
A mostly empty bottle hits the wall to his right, easily dodged. He’ll have to wipe up the remains before it stains.
“You think that you’re actually special? The Gods decide everything for us. They choose who we love, who’s strong, which people live and die and what we’re all worth.”
It seems to be one of those nights where his father is, unfortunately, active in the house. He is just thankful that Senjuro had left early in the morning to head to the market alongside Obanai.
“We weren’t blessed with anything but misfortune.” A cork is pulled out of a new jar instantly filling the room with the stench of alcohol. The once mighty Flame Hashira takes a worrying deep pull.
“Our family is blessed. Mother use to say—“
“DON’T SPEAK TO ME OF WHAT SHE SAID!”
If it were not for the fact that it was a fresh bottle Kyojuro was sure that it too would have been flung across the room to join the other.
“I know what she spoke of better than you. Her values were falsely placed in the Gods who cursed her to die young.”
Breath in, one two three four five. Breath out, one two three four five. A biting, bitter, laugh that he’s unfortunately grown accustomed to hearing in his introduction into adulthood is let loose into the room.
“And you’re going to die young just like her with those shitty skills of yours. Give up this fool's dream and quit the demon corps.”
This is a conversation they have at least twice every few months. And the familiarity of the topic does nothing to dull the sting of his father’s words thrown each time. They used to spend hours pouring over the texts describing each flame breath form before laying in the garden after a day full of training. Now Kyojuro’s days are filled with venom filled words spat at him as he tries to decipher destroyed books and scrolls.
Thinking of his mother’s wishes for him to use his strength for something positive Kyojuro tugs on his signature smile before delivering a deep bow.
“Then I will train to get better.”
The bottle does get thrown at him in the end.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
At sixteen he became the new Flame Hashira.
Every night a life is saved due to his blade and self taught skills.
Against his father’s fury at taking on the mantle he will keep his mother’s promise. He will wear his family's haori with pride like it was meant to be and continue to do his duty of protecting those who can’t fend for themselves.
There aren’t many other Hashira at the moment but the few that were around were interesting to interact with. Especially the Sound Hashira, who he learns has three wives who all bear the same soulmate marks! He didn’t even know that it was possible to have more than one soulmate! And then there was even a young girl who discovered a way to use wisteria poison in her battles to make up for her lack of strength! How fascinating!
Each of his comrades possessed a dizzying amount of talent that he aims to match one day.
The work is hard and the battles are tough but this was what Kyojuro knew he was meant to do.
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
Letters are exchanged with his younger brother on a weekly basis due to his extended travels. Each one Kyojuro makes sure to fill to the brim with accounts of who he’s interacted with, what he’s seen, and inquires regarding his well being. In return Senjuro describes the happenings of his everyday life, how father is doing, and lastly asks if he’s run into his soulmate in any of the new places he visits.
The answer is always no.
Finding his other half is no longer his main priority but now a forlorn dream of a simpler time.
In the dark of an inn room hundreds of miles away from familiar faces and duties does Kyojuro finally allow his mind to be honest with himself. The thought of bringing a partner into his lifestyle leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Every corps member knows and understands the harsh truth that their current mission could be their last. And as a Hashira there is a higher level to uphold, deadlier missions to embark on and certain exceptions to keep.
Families have been torn apart before and after joining the slayer corps, he’s delivered bad news to enough grieving partners and children to haunt him for a lifetime.
Kyojuro knows that he will die as the Flame Hashira, but was he willing to curse a lover with his passing?
How can he be in a relationship when his duty to protect must be put above everything in his life?
Is it not better to mourn an idea of a person rather than to meet and get ripped away?
Burden with these types of thoughts he would fall into his childhood habit of tracing his mark. Torn between wanting to grasp at the barely there connection or attempting to ignore the explosive emotions filtering through.
Would you hate me if we never found each other?
❛･━━━━･ ❪ ҉ ❆ ҉ ❫ ･━━━━･❜
Well into his early twenties Kyojuro finds himself on a very interesting mission.
Golden gaze upon the four battle worn teens before him Kyojuro allows his body to finally release some tension. Pride burns within his chest, broadening a true smile when he thinks of everything they have accomplished tonight.
A Lower Moon has been defeated and not a single life has been taken on the capsized train.
In some small recess of his mind Kyojuro will admit that he was worried about placing the burden of slicing the creatures ‘neck’ on to the young Kamado boy. But the teen had laid all his worries to rest with an impressive display of strength and conviction— he was even able to produce fire from his sword! Perhaps with the right coaxing he would be able to get the boy to switch breathing styles and become his student. He certainly proved to have an aptitude for the flames!
Explosive pangs of joy shoot through his arm while the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand.
An overwhelming presence fills the air in the span of a second before causing the younger slayers around him to choke and freeze in place. The night was going so well, he was a fool blinded by a victory for thinking that the mission was over with a handful of hours left for the sun to rise.
Sword already in hand only a second passes before the sickening crunch of bone splitting on metal fills the night. Thankful for his body moving on his own accord from years of honing instinct he protects the fallen form of the Kamado boy before raising his gaze to take in the new presence on the field.
A pair of unnaturally glowing eyes stare back, the kanji for ‘Upper Three’ etched in them doesn’t go missed as a wide fang filled grin splits the intruder's face. The apparent appendage that was sliced in two by his sword is an arm—one that is repaired with a regenerative speed that spells disaster with a snap of the creature's wrist.
Stance widening Kyojuro pulls in a deep breath the same time the demon's tongue slithers out to gather the remnants of blood from its skin.
“Nice sword.”
Blood growing hot he feels the thrum of excitement pulsing from his right arm contradict the wariness of his own emotions.