Chapter 23

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It's a burning fire against a raging blizzard in his heart, mind, soul and body.

As he drinks more water, the faint taste of blood is clearer in his head, and it satiates his hunger and tones it down by a fraction. It quells the fire in his heart, and calms the snowstorm. He pants heavily, and he pulls one of the towel over himself, as he glances down at the wound in his solar plexus.

It had fully healed.

He breathed a sigh of relief, as he could feel bones knit together and realign themselves. But there was the hunger, growling, ravenous, staving and gluttonous, which clung to his mind. It pulled at his limbs, begging him to leave and find a way out of the cabin no matter the cost.

He wonders if it was this hard for Nezuko to fight against her own instincts.

He's burning and yet he's freezing at the same time. He can feel flames lick at his skin, and ice piercing through his wounds from inside out, and it confuses his senses, throwing them into disarray as pain and pleasure are one and whole. The scent of his own blood is so heavy in the air, and he binds his own hands in a towel as he tries to restrain himself from giving in to the primal, demonic hunger for flesh and blood.

His senses told him that drinking blood would taste like nectar upon his own lips. It would heal him, make him strong, bless him with power, and divine pleasure. Any blood would do, even his own. He just needed to open his mouth, and let a single drop land upon the tip of his tongue.

Why was he starving himself from pleasure?

He couldn't give in. His fingers twitched and spasmed, as he held his own limbs close to him and tried to breathe and control his own movements. He was more demon now than he was human, he supposed.

But he can't.

He can't give in.

He Refused to do so.

Removing the bindings on his arms temporarily, he brings his arms over his eyes, as he takes a blindfold and ties it over his eyes. It takes an insane amount of effort and concentration to focus on the task at hand and not stare or be drawn in by his own pool of blood. But he could do it. He would do it.

If he could deprive or block off his senses, he could limit and control his mind better. He finds a clean cloth and ties it over his mouth, before he reties his hands and binds it together. He breathes, as he calms his mind and focuses on the sound of snow.

Inhale air, and contain it to the limit of his breaths, before exhaling it quickly, akin to ignition and the spark of flames.

It warms the freezing cold in his veins, melting away the frost and ice, as he exhales, throat burning but warmth flows through his limbs, and with it, control, action and energy.

His will burns like fire against the falling snow.

Explanation

'He can feel flames lick at his skin, and ice piercing through his wounds from inside out, and it confuses his senses, throwing them into disarray as pain and pleasure are one and whole.'

- Flames represent his humanity. Ice represents the demon side within him. Both are warring against each other, one trying to warm him up, give him life, while the other trying to force him to consume more blood in order to numb the pain.  

'Inhale air, and contain it to the limit of his breaths, before exhaling it quickly, akin to ignition and the spark of flames.'

- So this is sort of my own idea of how the Breath of Flames works, where the user must hold their breathe in until they reach the max capacity of their lungs, and exhale immediately and quickly in one go, just like how one strikes a match against the match box and lights up a match. 

Essentially, akin to ignition, which would allow the user to bring out their peak performance instantaneously like a spark. 

'It warms the freezing cold in his veins, melting away the cold and ice, as he exhales, throat burning but warmth flows through his limbs, and with it, control, action and energy.

His will burns like fire against the falling snow.'

- He regains the ability to use his Breath of Flames, in which he wins out over his demon side. 

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