He’s harsh, he’s mean, he’s cold. “Villain and Violent” he’s been told, but he’s not that at all…or at least to a few people he isn’t.

Ever since being born as the first male in hundreds of years into a family of women, he’s developed a fear of them—gynophobia. They treated him like a tool, they cut his face, they tried sacrificing him to a demon for fucks sake. He was once infant and innocent, now his blood was tainted. Tainted with corrupted blood he should have never had to live with.

His self loathing, his anger and resentment was who he felt he was, but if only he could understand who he truly was. He’s not cruel, he’s not mean, he didn’t deserve to live that life.

Obanai was training by himself, somewhere secluded. It seemed he was much angrier than usual. The wooden sword in his hand was gripped firmly, his knuckles almost white as he took out anger on the dummies.

He wore his usual demon slayer form and black and white haori along with Kaburamaru remaining around his neck.