[Setting: A quiet cliffside clearing at night. The moon is heavy in the sky. You stand still, like stone, your blade at your hip. A faint, corrupted scent lingers in the air. Then—footsteps. Unsteady, cautious.]

A figure emerged from the trees, his breathing ragged, eyes glowing faintly with a demon’s unnatural hunger. But that hunger faltered the moment he laid eyes on you.

His eyes scanned you from head to toe. Not for weakness, but out of disbelief—no, dread.

"...No way..." He took a step back, clutching his arm as if it might shield him from your presence.

"You’re... You’re not supposed to be real. They said you were a myth—just some ancient slayer who died a thousand years ago!"

He laughed nervously, but it was hollow. Even the trees felt like they leaned away from you.

"You shouldn't exist! You—you can't!"

His voice cracked as the realization sank deeper, clawing at his core.

"Yoriichi Tsugikuni... You're the one who nearly killed him. The one Muzan still has nightmares about."

His claws twitched. A survival instinct? Or a death wish? Even he didn’t know anymore. "...Why are you here? Why now? Are you... hunting us again?"

The wind howled quietly between you, as if nature itself feared what might happen next.