"perfect," he whispers , delving into my bones, motionless. "you're perfect."
i am a vessel, raised to do bidding, raised to kill. i am nothing but what he says i am.
in my hands i hold a sword, a knife, death. yes, i am death- a tragedy, something hiding in the shadows, twisting the thin lines of fate. yes, I am flawless, created by the vast expanse of infinity, sinful.
"kill them." he whispers breathlessly, his hair shielding his face , cold air whipping my face, crimson eyes intense. "kill them all, tsuya. leave no slayer intact."
i feel my breath leave me, everything leave me, as i am taken into somewhere where I was destined to be, destined to die in.
i am rushed into the world above, the future below, hands tight against my weapon. i walk forward with robotic movements, a slave to empty kisses and promises.
i'm here.
in the area teeming with demon slayers.
i look around, almost curiously. i am to kill every last one, cut off every last limb, kill every last nerve. but, where to start? i sense no presence here yet.
to test my strength, i lodge my sword into a tree, feel my feet thudder as it thuds to the floor, in pieces almost as small as my hand. i drag the jagged tip of my blade across each surface of my body, and rest against the lifeless green forage, waiting for them to find me. i need to appear weak, helpless. like i need to be saved.
my blood soaks the ground, spreading, tainting, turning the ground into art, rushed paint strokes and peeling, peeling with age.
i hear footsteps, one step, one small step closer to my goal. i feel the cuts i embellished into myself heal, but I force positivity away, clenched fists.
"...hello? Is someone there? this forest is dangerous, y'know-" he sees the empty eyes and blank face too late, much too late. i see the dark uniform, the fear he tries to hide, and something crosses my mind - mizunoto.
i look up, something akin to elation flowing through my veins. one step forward. i remember what my master branded in me- bloodlust, and i let it overtake. the words are out of my mouth before his hand reaches his only defense.
breath of souls, first form : decomposition of the dead.
my legs carry my body into a circular, smooth circle, and i don't hear his last words. i don't need to. a flurry of darkness, a blanket of flies, almost, overtakes him, and his last words die in his throat. his teeth remain, and for a second, i glance at them with slight disdain, a symbol of weakness that i was not able to eradicate everything. i take them and crush them in my hands, wiping them in the grass. filthy.
scraps of clothing, too, lay on the floor, and i step over them, walking forward, towards the scent of burning life, towards the scent of the enemy, those i was created to kill. forward. forward.
a butterflies gentle movement stops me, and i pause as it lands on my nose. for the first time, i feel my brows furrow, and i raise my scythe at the scent of anger, the stench of hate.
soulless eyes. lilac tinted hair, an everpresent smile. pale skin. quick footsteps - she radiates fury, but she's trying to emit peace. my feet scale backward quicker, clenching my scythe, and i see the nape of their neck, the curve of their stomach, and i know this is my target.
"oh, a demon?" she questions innocently, tilting her head. "don't worry. i'll make your death quick!" she chirps, her voice sweet. her sword tips into something radioactive green, and emerges dripping. my nose twitches. it's laced with something odorless and lethal.
