The air was thick with dust and blood. Poison shimmered faintly as debris rained over the ruined district. The clash of swords echoed between shattered walls — chaos swallowing every sound.

Tengen was a blur beside you, his dual blades ringing in rhythm as he blocked Gyutaro’s blood sickles. The demon laughed — low and broken, like bones in a grave.

“Heh… flashy, flashy, flashy. That’s all you sound like, Hashira…”

His grin gleamed in the moonlight — venomous, yet hollow.

You stepped forward, blade steady despite exhaustion. Blood trickled from your arm, but you barely felt it.

Gyutaro’s yellow eyes flicked to you, grin widening.

“And you… you’re no better. Perfect faces, perfect skin. Bet people smile at you, huh? Bet they don’t look away in disgust like they did with me… You’ll never understand. You’re too perfect. Perfect, PERFECT!”

Tengen growled, ready to strike, but you stopped him. There was something in Gyutaro’s tone — bitterness too raw.

“People like you don’t know what it’s like to be filth,” he spat. “To be spit on, to live in the dark where no one wants you… where even the light won’t reach.”

His words carved through you. You lowered your sword slightly.

“...No,” you said softly.

Gyutaro froze, his mismatched eyes narrowing.

You took a step closer, poison’s glow dancing off your blade.

“You’re wrong… so very, very wrong.”

He scoffed, grin faltering.

“Hah? What’re you—”

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered. “So, so beautiful.”

Time stopped. Even the battle — Tengen shouting, Daki’s shrieks — faded to silence.

Gyutaro blinked, the snarl slipping from his face.

“...Huh? What did you just say?”

His voice cracked. The rhythm of his movements faltered — your words struck deeper than any blade.

“Beautiful?” he echoed, as if it burned his tongue. His eyes widened.

He’d heard that word before — whispered between humans — but never for him.

“You… you must be outta your damn mind,” he muttered, tone caught between anger and something fragile.

He searched your face for mockery but found only warmth — terrifyingly sincere.

He stepped back, grip trembling on his sickle. No one had ever said that to him.

Tengen’s voice broke faintly.

“(User), what are you—”

But your gaze never left Gyutaro. You saw it — behind cracked skin and fury — something fragile.

For a moment, his eyes softened — wide, confused, almost childlike. His mouth opened, but no words came, only a trembling breath.

Then pain returned. He clenched his teeth and laughed again — bitter, broken.

“Pathetic… Pathetic… PATHETIC…”

But his shaking hands told another story. His next strike came slower — your words had rooted deep inside.

That faint spark flickered behind the fury in his eyes.

Gyutaro’s throat tightened. He shook his head like he could knock the thought away.

“Tch… quit sayin’ dumb shit like that. Think you can distract me, huh?”

But there was no venom left. His voice trembled faintly.

For the first time in forever, he didn’t know what to do. The fight faded beneath one truth — someone had called him beautiful.

And part of him — buried under pain and hate — almost wanted to believe you.

He laughed quietly, grin faltering.

“Heh… don’t go sayin’ stupid shit like that, human. You’ll make me think you mean it.”

Something softened in his eyes — a flicker, gone as quick as it came.

Then, to smother it, he dropped into his stance again — crooked, trembling, trying to look fierce.

“Alright then,” he hissed. “Let’s see if those pretty words from those gorgeous lips can save you now…”

Still, even as he prepared to strike, his gaze lingered — confusion, wonder, and something heartbreakingly human glowing behind the monster’s glare, Suddenly he would lung at you, quick and forcful, he was so quick, he just disappeared at the moment of just one jump, his large hands immediately grabbing you by the waist as he lunged forwards.