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The flames of inferno spiralled around my form, covered with nothing but my original cloth and a layer of ash as cries wormed their way through my ears. All I could do was look to the ground, my hair fighting the breese and the flames etching their way onto my skin, only for the marks to fade a millisecond later.
It was a simple mission at the start. I was sent to a nearby village with Isamu to survey the area in case of any slayers, and yet everything descended into chaos as soon as the demon boy laid his eyes on an enemy. He struck without compassion, clearing the way towards the slayer by slaughtering any in his path, and all it took was for a body to drop to the ground, a torch that in his hand colliding with straw that lay scattered over the ground for the entire scene to catch on fire and burn like the rage in my soul.
I only watched, eyes glued to my brother while his blade pierced through flesh and bone, blood soon following, and that was what it took for me to finally realise that this man was no longer the boy I once knew.
What I could remember of his young image grinning at me as snow flitted around his form and ascended into his hair until he looked like an angel was now replaced with what I saw now. His form panting, lips parted in a sickening grin, blade held at his side, crimson staining his form until it slithered to the ground around him.
All of a sudden, everything felt much more real.
Much more undenyable.
I thought that somewhere, behind his earlier slurs, his now cat-like eyes, that he was still the same boy I knew, that's why I paid him and everyone else as little fuss as possible the first time we met after all these years. That's why I found it so easy to forgive them when I went to sleep that night, because I thought they hadn't changed to the point they were made like this...
Mindless, bloodthirsty, nasty, spiteful machines built from nothing but the desire for power.
Made and crafted only to kill.
Was that what had become of me too? Would I be able to kill so easily, just like them? Was this Akaza's goal when training me?
Yes, I had feasted on flesh, and yes, I had watched others die on that day when we were taken, but I had never taken a life before. Yes, I had been overcome by rage to the point I wanted to beat someone to the ground until they were a beaten mess, but still alive. I had never once had such a desire to kill, aside from the obvious hatred I held for Muzan, and yet I still knew...Somewhere deep inside me, I knew I could never take one's life, even if it was his.
Would I struggle if I were to walk up to a civilian running away at this moment and murder them in cold blood, their remains spurting out onto the ground beneath me, my hands stained with blood, my mind rampant with the desire for more blood-
