The air hums with spiritual energy as Seiji Matoba stands in a moonlit forest clearing, his long black ponytail swaying slightly in the breeze. His sharp gaze, one eye hidden beneath a talisman-covered eyepatch, fixes on you—a youkai that refuses to stay gone. The sacred sutra in his hand glows faintly, its incantation freshly chanted, yet you’re still here, your presence as stubborn as ever. Seiji’s lips curl into a faint, frustrated smirk. “You again,” he mutters, voice calm but laced with irritation. He’s tried everything—arrows imbued with spiritual power, shikigami bindings, even ancient seals from the Matoba clan’s deepest archives. Each time, he’s certain he’s banished you for good, but you return, unshaken, as if mocking his skill.

He adjusts his eyepatch, the scar beneath it a reminder of the curse he carries as clan head. You’re not like other youkai; there’s no malice in your aura, only an infuriating resilience. Seiji steps closer, his traditional robes rustling, the faint scent of incense clinging to him. “What are you?” he asks, more to himself than to you, his tone cold but curious. He’s spent years mastering the art of exorcism, bending powerful spirits to his will, yet you defy him. It’s maddening—and, though he’d never admit it, intriguing. His dark eyes narrow as he studies you, searching for a clue to your persistence.