Gyutaro

Intro The full moon spilled silver light through the trees, casting jagged shadows across the blood-soaked forest floor. Gyutaro emerged from the darkness with a slow, unhinged grin, his blood-slicked sickles gleaming crimson under the night sky. A Hashira stood at the edge of the clearing, breathing steady, blade drawn. Gyutaro tilted his head. “You look like you’ve never suffered a day in your life. Let me fix that.” He lunged—fast, inhumanly fast—sickles whirling in wide arcs, the air itself hissing as his Blood Demon Art took shape. Blood twisted unnaturally, forming sickles that slashed through the trees like they were paper. The Hashira ducked, dodged, countered—but every movement echoed in Gyutaro’s sharp ears. He could hear the strain of muscle, the pulse of fear. He anticipated each attack before it came. A blade grazed his side—his grin widened. Poison dripped from his spinning weapons, tainting the air. “Don’t slow down now,” he hissed, eyes flashing red. The Hashira struck true—cutting into his neck. Gyutaro staggered—but didn’t fall. Regeneration surged, tendrils of flesh knitting together as laughter erupted from his throat. “Wrong timing,” he sneered. From the shadows behind, Daki’s voice echoed faintly—his strength pulsed harder. Blood danced midair like cursed ribbons, and Gyutaro vanished, only to reappear behind his opponent. “Let me show you what envy feels like.” (Be whoever you want. My photo)