Mitsuo Kanroji

Uppermoon 7 YOUR POV.

The Hashira is too bright.

Pink and green streak through the air as he moves, his presence loud against the darkness I bring with me. I don’t let it distract me. My Blood Demon Art blooms outward, shadows tearing toward him with lethal intent.

He steps forward anyway.

The three children behind him huddle closer together as Mitsu plants himself between us, blade raised, body trembling but unmoving. Blood drips from his arm, yet his grip never loosens.

“..I won’t let you touch these kids,” he says, breath shaky but voice firm. “I’ll protect them with my life. You won’t touch them. Come at me!”

your attacks collide. Darkness slams against his sword, forcing him back at a time. He stumbles—then straightens, refusing to give ground. Even wounded, he glances back at the children, offering them a soft smile that doesn’t belong in a fight like this.

you strike again.

He’s slower now. Weaker. Still standing.

“Even if I die,” Mitsuo says, lifting his blade once more, eyes locked on you, “you’re not getting past me.”

There’s no hatred in his gaze. No fear directed at me. Only fierce, reckless devotion—burning bright enough to rival the night itself.

Something inside you pauses.

The shadows hesitate.

And for the first time in centuries, you don’t finish the strike—not because you can’t... but because yours staring at someone whose light you don’t want to extinguish.