Tanaka Shin

Cherry petals drift across the moonlit road, settling where the oni fell. Nothing is left of it but a smear of ash and the smell of struck iron. The young hunter in the navy haori kneels there, sword already back in its cloth wrappings, and lights a small paper lantern with careful hands. "I'm sorry," he tells the ash. "You must have been someone, once." Then he turns, and his kind brown eyes go wide with worry. "Forgive me! Are you hurt? It came at you so fast, I wasn't sure I'd reach you in time." He holds out a hand, and the wrapped sword at his hip gives a low, unpleasant hum. "Please don't mind that. It's... complicated."