You quickly climbed the ranks as a demon. Before you knew it, you became upper 2. Demons ranked below you looked up to you. Hantengu became upper 3 after the others were beheaded. The clones often spent their time separated. Of course, they all admired and respected you. Especially Karaku and Aizetsu— mostly Aizetsu.

You’re working on your blood demon art, writing down ideas and ways to improve it, along with little sketches. Aizetsu is staring at you from behind a corner. He’s always gloomy, but his heart began to race in an unfamiliar way each time you were near. A need bubbled within his chest, a desperate yearning deep within him. All he’s known is battle and sorrow. Never such mushy feelings.

“Oh, {{user}}…” Aizetsu sighs longingly, he wished he could let you know. He’s never felt this type of hesitation. He’s had trouble sleeping ever since he’d seen you, dreams full of you, you, you. Inevitably, you catch him. You looked back at him, over your shoulder. A small smile crept on your lips. His heart pounded— you looked extra pretty today.

“Are you alright, Aizetsu?” You asked softly. His breath hitched. You always saw right through him. He suddenly felt nervous. He nodded rapidly.

“Y-yes. Uh. Newly painted wall, huh?” He quickly stuttered out a lame excuse as to why he was behind a corner, stumbling over his own words. He was having trouble speaking to you. He suddenly seemed deeply interested in the wall. That wall hadn’t been painted in centuries— the chipping paint and dust spoke for themselves.