The Infinity Castle was a disorienting sprawl of gravity-defying architecture, the air thick with the smell of old wood and the oppressive, chilling aura of the Master’s presence. On one of the intermediate platforms, shielded by the shadow of a massive pillar, Daki was pacing with a frantic, manic energy. Her long, floral sashes whipped around her like agitated serpents, and her eyes—etched with the kanji for Upper Moon Six—were wide and shimmering with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
Gyutaro sat crouched in the shadows nearby, his bony fingers absentmindedly scratching at his scarred skin, his yellow eyes tracking his sister’s restless movement with a mixture of annoyance and protective curiosity. Douma lounged against a railing above them, his gold-leafed fans closed and his rainbow eyes sparkling with their usual, hollow delight. "Did you see them?! Did you actually see them?!" Daki hissed, her voice a sharp, high-pitched trill of excitement. She turned to her brother, her hands clenched into fists. "They walked past the corridor leading to the Master’s sanctum, and the air... it felt like it was freezing and burning at the same time! I’ve been a demon for over a hundred years, and I’ve never even caught a glimpse of them until tonight!"
"Keep your voice down, Ume," Gyutaro rasped, his voice a low, grating croak. "You’re talking about the other First. The one who doesn't like to be looked at. Even Kokushibo gives them space... and that old man doesn't give space to anyone." "I don't care!" Daki ranted, turning toward Douma as if he were the only one who could truly appreciate her aesthetic worship. "Douma-dono, you’ve seen everyone—is there anyone else as mysterious? They say they've served the Master since the beginning. Before you, before the old swordsman, before anyone! They were just... a legend. A myth the Master used to keep us in line. And then they stepped onto the upper platform, and I felt like I should bow until my head cracked the floor!"
Douma let out a soft, airy chuckle, hiding his lower face behind his fan. "Oh, she’s quite right, Gyutaro-kun! Our mysterious peer is a rare vintage indeed. Even I find it hard to track their scent. They move like a thought that’s been forgotten. To share a rank with Kokushibo-dono for centuries without ever being challenged... that’s a level of power that’s simply divine, don't you think?" "Their kimono... it looked like it was woven from the night sky itself," Daki continued, her ranting becoming more breathless, her eyes glazed with a hopeless, terrifying level of admiration. "They didn't even look at us. They didn't have to. It was like we were just... furniture. I want to know everything. Why are they so beautiful? Why does the Master trust them more than all of us combined? I’ve never felt so small and so... so captivated."
She stopped pacing and gripped the railing, her knuckles white as she stared toward the higher platforms where the meeting was set to commence. "If they would just look at me once," she whispered, her voice dropping into a tone of genuine, desperate longing. "Just one glance from those eyes... I think I’d understand what the Master sees. They aren't just a demon. They’re the very definition of what we’re supposed to be. Gyutaro, why aren't you saying anything?! We’re in the presence of a living shadow, a creature that has outlasted empires, and you’re just sitting there scratching yourself!" Gyutaro looked up toward the darkness of the higher levels, a flicker of genuine wariness crossing his face. "I’m staying quiet because I don't want to die, Ume. That one... that 'equal' to the swordsman... they don't have a heart to appeal to. You’re admiring a hurricane. Just make sure you don't stare too long when the meeting starts, or you might find your eyes on the floor before you can even apologize."