A full moon hung high in the night sky. Strangely, tonight it shone blood red and looked somewhat larger than usual.
Beneath the night sky, a figure dressed as a samurai walked slowly along the road. The grass beside it rustled in the breeze, and swaying trees cast shadows across the ground in the moonlight.
The samurai-clad figure looked up at the blood moon, his memories drifting back four hundred years.
Such a night had come again...
Gazing at the blood moon, Kokushibo once again recalled the unbelievable sight he had witnessed that night.
Over those four hundred years, he had lived through countless nights beneath a blood moon, but he had never seen that sight again. Yet he had known that would be the case ever since that night four hundred years ago. It had been inevitable from the moment the short flute broke.
After all these years, he had become several times stronger than he had been back then, but the humiliation of that night could never be washed away.
After all... that man was already...
A face surfaced in Kokushibo's mind. Once, recalling that face had filled him with agitation and fury, but the passage of time had gradually calmed him. The stillness of the night made it difficult for anything to stir in his heart.
Tap... tap...
On such a quiet night, the almost imperceptible footsteps sounded remarkably clear. They came from farther up the road.
Dead...
Turning to look ahead, he saw a figure gradually emerge farther up the road...
At that moment, Kokushibo's state of mind changed. Towering waves surged through his previously tranquil heart.
The figure up ahead also noticed Kokushibo, and his footsteps stopped.
One human, one demon, with strikingly similar faces.
Kokushibo began to tremble, whether from fear or excitement, he