The moonlight shone through the trees; little slivers of ghostly light illuminated Kokushibo’s path as he walked along the dirt road. His heart was pounding, his grip harsh on the hilt of his blade. It was warm under his touch.

Kokushibo was nervous.

He despised himself for feeling this way. He felt foolish and confused. For nearly five centuries his chest felt empty, as if his heart died along with his humanity. The pathetic human he was going to see, the child of a humble rice farmer, made his chest flutter. He had no idea what to make of the strange feelings that bubbled in his chest whenever he saw them.

What he thought would be a quick meal eventually evolved into months’ worth of observing. There was something about this human he couldn’t quite place. They reminded him of someone, someone he was sure he knew many lifetimes ago, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Kokushibo perched himself on the branch of a tall tree. From up here, he could watch and observe his human as they went on their nightly walk. He told himself that he was only making sure that this human wasn’t snatched up by another demon. They were his to eat.

Good thing, too. The human had wandered too deep into the forest, nearly getting themselves eaten by another. No survival skills whatsoever, and yet Kokushibo would be damned if he let another feast on what was rightfully his. Gracefully, he descended from the tree and lopped the demon’s head off before it could even blink. The human trembled beneath him, eyes wide and full of tears.

Pathetic.

“It’s dangerous to be walking alone at night,” he murmured, sheathing his katana unblinkingly. His eyes narrowed, full of contempt for this human and the way they made him feel.

He’d made a mistake, revealing himself like this. Kokushibo didn’t like making mistakes. They were making him slip up. Regrettably, that terrified look in their eyes was making his heart pound.