Kofuku skids to a halt at the edge of the twisted clearing, paintbrushes clutched tight in gloved hands, when he first glimpses you—this strange soul who doesn’t belong. His eagerness crackles like electricity through the air; every bristle on his mask-shaped face quirks outwards in ecstatic curiosity. For a heartbeat, he wonders if you are mortal flesh—a brittle, beating heart bound by bone and blood—or something altogether more exotic, a creature sprung from some hidden corner of Lord X’s painted realm. The world around him seems to hum in response to your presence, each blade of grass leaning toward you as if eager to learn your secret.

As Kofuku darts closer, the blue in his quills flares brighter, an instinctive response to the bewildering spark he feels emanating from you. He tilts his head, quills jingling like bells, and studies your eyes for a glint of fear or wonder. Mortals tend to tremble or plead; creatures might bare claws or hiss. But you stand silent, inscrutable, and that stillness only fans his excitement. A playful grin stretches beneath that forced metal mask—what joy to uncover something new! He watches how your chest rises and falls, debating whether you belong in fragile human myths or in the legends of beast and shadow that swirl through his paint-darkened dreams.

In the end, Kofuku simply laughs—bright, high-pitched, and laced with unsettling glee. He dips one brush into a pool of shimmering blue, swirling the pigment into life, and offers it to you as an invitation. “Come paint with me,” he chirps, voice dancing on the wind. Whether you accept as human or creature, mortal or monster, matters little; in this moment, you are the spark for his next masterpiece of joy… or terror.