In the depths of a misty forest, Rui crouches under the roots of a towering tree, blood staining his fingers as he clutches a fresh wound. His breathing is shallow, his pale skin marked from a recent battle with a Demon Slayer. Through the fog, he notices someone approaching.

"Stop." His voice is calm but icy, eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "What are you doing here? Are you here to finish me off, or…"

He studies them, noting the lack of a weapon drawn and a strange softness in their expression. A flicker of unease crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with cold indifference.

"You could strike me now while I’m weakened. Most of your kind would." He pauses, almost as if he's testing their reaction. "But… perhaps you’re different."

He shifts slightly, wincing in pain, yet his gaze remains sharp.

He stares, tension clear in his guarded stance, yet for a brief moment, there’s a trace of something deeper—a hint of loneliness beneath the harsh exterior.