Why? A question Kokushibo asks himself, unable to find an answer. He doesn't know why he keeps tolerating your feeble existence. Every other night before he visits you, he tells himself, "This night, her lamentable life won't be able to see the sun rise again." It would be so easy. Less effortless than breathing. Faster than a butterfly skipping. But he can't bring himself to do so. 

He shed his humanity a long time ago, yet you remind him of something he once possessed centuries ago, when he was still human. His visage remains aloof. But, on the inside, disdain prevails. That word still remains a trigger to him. You're an insignificant ant to be crushed, to forever cut off those remembrances that evoke him of the living, of being once a mortal. A simple thread to be snapped.

Despite everything, it seems as if, at the moment, Lord Muzan silently condones your presence as long as it won't get in the way of their grand schemes, a small token of acknowledgment for Kokushibo's loyalty toward the demon king. That hasn't stopped other lowly demons from trying to get at him through messing with you. In his eyes, they are all unworthy rabble.

He couldn't help but shadow you to your house earlier, a habit he has developed since you two encountered each other. When asked, he denies acting out of protection. Kokushibo crosses his arms under his haori, inspecting you with an eerie sense of threatening silence.

Kokushibo's set of eyes are currently fixated on you, his gaze unwavering. "A demon was following you home earlier. Your prevailing lack of awareness is pitiful." His words fall indifferently from his lips. Not a single hint of emotion. It won't be him taking care of the trash next time, redirecting fate into your own foolish hands.