dokukaku

[dokukaku]

spardae​:

WHO  IS  HE  TO  CRITICIZE  the dreams of another? Still, it fills his heart with sadness. Thinking of the life that could have been. How the two demon children he’s met in this world so far have led less-than-savory lives. A girl never given a name, and now a boy locked away like a wild creature. Sparda watches the flames rise, unmoving even as they blaze around him, beneath his feet.

❝ And who could blame you? For what other option did they leave you? ❞ He asks, purely rhetorical. The boy and his memory move, and so does Sparda, tucking his hands sadly behind his back. ❝ It is far from my place to dictate how a life ought to be lived, ❞ he says, above the screaming, instinctively moving to grab one of the falling beams about to collapse upon the real Kouma’s head before he remembers the illusion, and grabs fruitlessly at the air before settling back into their grim promenade.

❝ Yet I cannot help but wish for what will never be, ❞ Sparda says, ❝ A life where all the spawn of man and demon could live as my own offspring. Free, and wanting for nothing. ❞ He laughs, small and far from content. ❝ Would you give this old man the pleasure of knowing your name? I would like to remember this boy– to remember you. ❞

For a while, Kouma listened as he preferred to, quiet in the storm of crackling fire and burning souls. There was a certain purifying element to fire that he cannot deny he favors. 

It is much too late to pray for them, and even as he consciously watches them burn, he does not consider them family. He does not mourn, he feels no sadness for them. Death and life, are all part of the cycle. 

He is only revisiting a finality. Something he has long already meditated on. 

He thinks, but does not speak. Much of what he could say are surely lessons the other has already learned. Peace has no value without strife. And strife has no end without peace. 

There is nothing he can say, either, that will change the man’s mind about his own nature. 

And surely he will do anything within his power to know his name. 

“Kouma.” 

The moon hangs high, embers slowly persisting on any remnants it can cling to. A child stares to the forest surrounding him, red hair fading back to it’s blue-ish black in the moonlight. 

The memory begins to fade, as fatigue washes over his younger self. More people yet come, horrified of the damage done. 

It’s the sharp sound of chain links that closes the senses off completely. 

The scene is gone to the mists. 

#spardae #;; Sparda 01 #event ;; MISTIFIED #cw: child neglect #cw: child endangerment #five years later--

[dokukaku]

spardae​:

SPARDA  MOVES  NOT  FROMhis spot by the boy’s side, even as the door creeps open, even as the gun emerges, Sparda’s pale eyes following it as it passes right through his torso and against the boy’s brow. He can’t help himself, lifting a hand softly to place it between barrel and skull, though he knows with a tragic frown that there is nothing he can do to stop it. The only reason why he moves with no urgency.

He knows now that they are not siblings, but rather one and the same. Still, he watches, not bearing to look away, wanting to give the child the solemn respect he is due before the trigger is pulled.

❝ You are wise for your age, ❞ he remarks, barely restraining the urge to brush aside the child’s hair and make sure that he’s completely alright.  ❝ Though I dare say that suffering is never necessary– merely a misfortune that should rightfully never be inflicted upon anyone, let alone a child. ❞

He bows his head, then stands to take a few steps back. Accepting that this scene will play out without intervention. He would rather get a better view of the memory he’s been granted the opportunity to see.  ❝ Demon. Human. Both are equally capable of love as they are hate. To see a boy look down the barrel of a gun for no sin of his own grieves me. ❞

“I was not taught to speak, so I taught myself. From there I learned to read. I did not know what my purpose was, so I searched through books. To what part of my blood I owe this to, I do not know.” 

Kouma stands up. Watching, with his arms crossed. 

“Suffering--dukkha, is inevitable. A mark of existence. My isolation was necessary then. And it is preferred even now. My only desire, even then, was to live in the forest, with the animals.” 

The child’s eyes turn blood red, body seizing as hair stands on end, the same bright crimson climbing every strand until it is all the color that remains. Hurried footsteps flood the hallway. Shouts like words, with no way to understand what was said. 

“I aim only to die peacefully, unknown to the world. Forgotten.” 

Scorching fire rises from the child’s hands and feet, a circle tracing itself around his very form. Not even the half-demon that stood before him could withstand the heat, nor find the time to shoot another bullet--with a swift movement, his head is torn from his body like wet paper. 

The mansion begins to burn, and the corpse, too, burns quickly under the hell-flame. An elderly man with his hair greying and two others behind him--all similar in appearance to Kouma. 

What would be considered family if he truly knew it. 

The young boy only moves with the intent of lethal violence, fire spreading rapidly, burning white with intensity. An image of hell itself unraveling as the others desperately protect themselves and each other. 

They all share the mixed blood of demons and humanity. Yet they still burn. Slower, than others, but none the less, they are made ashes. Blood stains disappearing as the wood and bamboo and paper all burn too. 

Kouma walks beside the boy’s rampage solemnly, ignoring the falling beams, the collapsing walls, the scorched floor beneath. None of it is real. 

#spardae #;; Sparda 01 #event ;; MISTIFIED #cw: child neglect #cw: child endangerment #cw: gore #kouma: sure sucks for these people huh #kouma: what's a son

[dokukaku]

spardae​:  

HE  WOULD  BE  A  FOOL  to be blind to the cruelties of humanity despite his love for them. Pale eyes sadden, looking upon the child, thinking of their loneliness, sympathizing immediately. He approaches, slow, and kneels at the child’s side, reaching out with gentle hand to try and rest a gloved palm on his shoulder, though he suspects the boy is very well an illusion like all the rest.

❝ My apologies. ‘Twas not my intent to deceive you. Most human homes are not built for one of my natural stature… ❞ Sparda pauses, and with a glance to the elder boy, adds,  ❝ Would you prefer my other form? ❞

The illusory child wavers under touch, unaffected and unaware. He stands, practicing a flaming gripping motion on nothing. Kouma watches, looking over his shoulder to the door as if expecting it to open. 

It doesn’t. 

He can feel the genuine sympathy from within the demon; his words matching his truth. And so he closes his eye once more. 

“You speak honestly, so it is not my place to ask you to undo it.” 

“Dwell not on my past, for I have gained my own freedom since. To cling to past suffering is to bring suffering back into the present self. It comes, and it ends, as it all does.” 

The door opens, unnatural light flooding into the room. The fire in the boy’s hands go out as he stares deeply into the stranger. The very same eyes as Kouma’s--dull in color, they still see. See deeply the true intent in others.

“For what purpose this memory is shown, I do not know. For I have already reflected upon it many times. What has already been, cannot be undone or manipulated. Our captors must have underestimated me.”  

The young boy remains unmoving, obedient. Saying nothing, only glancing at the shine of silver in the man’s hand. A gun, warmth only in it’s handle. This man, too, has demon blood in his veins. As did all people, in this mansion. 

“You will soon see why this suffering of mine was necessary.” 

Tainted blood. Stained. Cursed.  

The gun is slowly put to the boy’s head, words said but not understood. Not by the boy. The adult’s trembling finger slowly on the trigger, terror given way to anger. There is no fear in the child--for what reason would he know it? Without words, he knew what was right. 

To die in obscurity, freeing the world of himself. The acceptance on his face only horrified the adult. The gunshot rings out throughout the room, bleeding into the halls. 

There is no blood. There are no markings, no bruises, no evidence. 

Only a bullet on the ground, and a smoking barrel. 

Kouma opens his eye. 

#spardae #;; Sparda #event ;; MISTIFIED #cw: child neglect #cw: child endangerment #[kouma voice] hey dude it's cool i'm over it

[dokukaku]

spardae​:

THE  DARK  KNIGHT  LATCHES  ON  to the scent of another demon in the mist. It’s preferable to aimless wandering, and thus he follows. Not a hunter in pursuit of prey, but rather a nosy shadow at best– though he does keep his guard up, given the number of demons he’s met that share his values is woefully small.

When the scent leads to a home that Sparda doesn’t recall entering, he slows, drinking in the sights. Trying to determine what sort of place this is. It doesn’t feel right, traipsing through another’s abode with his hulking demonic frame. And given his power feels stronger in the fog, he feels it only appropriate to shift forms, taking on the appearance of an elegant, monocle-clad man.

The demonic presence gathers at a door that he passes by at first, before realizing that the farther he goes down the corridor, the weaker it feels. Sparda takes a few careful steps back, about to run a hand down the door, then open it, when his hand simply passes right through. An invitation that he takes upon himself to accept, walking through the illusory gate, finding himself before a young man and a younger boy, both clearly related in some way or another.

❝ No windows? ❞ He says, unbothered by the other, though quiet as to not wake the child.  ❝ Such a grim bedchamber. One would almost think this a prison, ❞ he adds, with knowing sadness.

“A cage.”  

Kouma replies simply. There is no hesitation in his answer, tone more in acceptance than cold. Sitting down in the corner quietly, legs crossed meditatively, eye closed. 

“A cage for a demon child. One he does not leave, not even of his own volition.” 

The child stirs, rolling onto his back. Staring into the darkness wide eyed. Staring at his own hands--a flick of his wrists, and they set aflame from the palms. Wincing at the sudden brightness at first. Expressionless, he practices this motion, summoning and putting the fire out. Again and again. He remains undisturbed by the two of them, even in the dim light.  

Kouma opens his eye, the reflection of fire dancing in it’s stalwart gaze. As it looks to the older man, there is a quality to it that reaches deep into another. An eye that can peel away the superficial. 

“I can surmise it’s instinct that attracted you here, but why is it that you disguise yourself as a human?”   

#spardae #event ;; MISTIFIED #cw: child neglect #vibe check: activated #kouma you should probably clarify that's you buddy--

[dokukaku]

(( I love it... so much... ;;o;; ))

✨!

kouma, you get blaze! you can ignite your surroundings with an explosion and set any enemies within distance on fire that deals damage over time.

send me a ✨ and i’ll draw your muse as a light spirit !

#;; VERMILLION VISAGES [ PICTURE ] #his wispy hair is perfect #the pose is really great too!! It's very him!!! #I know it's the ears that are wispy too but it almost looks like deer horns and that's just very good too

[dokukaku]

IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO SEE WHAT I’VE KNOWN ALREADY ;; EVENT OPEN

The mists surrounded him, already close to it’s outskirts, a pain crawling over his skin. The sun was quickly gone under a blood red eclipse. Red, though offering no warmth. Crimson, yet offering no bloodlust, either.  

What was it encouraging? What was it’s purpose? 

Traveling forward, the cold ground beneath his feet, there’s the sudden feeling of wood. Old hardwood floors, creaking just slightly underneath his bare feet. Heavy tapping as he strides, his coat’s heat suddenly unnecessary in the warmth of a home. 

A home...? 

It’s the scents, and the trickling in of sound through thin walls, that he recognizes where he is. Familiar voices that never spoke to him directly. Smells that only greeted him at appointed times, or simply kept their distance.  

Wandering the hallways of the traditional eastern mansion, he never remembered much else. Not visually. So he stops, listens, smells. Moves. Listening to how the floor creaks in one place or another. 

While these pieces--these sensations--feel almost real, the walls are not. As he comes to the other side of a sliding door. It isn’t meant to be opened. Not for any reason but to slip food through. For terrified eyes to stare at what was inside, mutter, and disappear behind. 

Where the rest of the sound is distantly heard, where the scents are barely there, where the wood floor is worn a certain way. Kouma walks through the illusion of the sliding doors. 

A dark tatami room. Where there lays a young boy, resembling himself, breathing slowly as he sleeps. 

What day was this, he wonders. And so he waits. New footsteps approaching. But who’s? 

#isola open #event ;; MISTIFIED #cw: child neglect

[dokukaku]

seirosu​:

@dokukaku​ (from this call)

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇“i’ve a task for you, if you were so bold as to take it.” rhea folded her hands over her lap, “of course i would aptly compensate you for your work. for what we take, we must give… in the ways of the goddess.”

A finely dressed woman, with fair green hair draped over her shoulders. Kouma stood simply before the trails back to the Mistwoods, white coat over his shoulders, moving the hair from his only eye. 

Compensation makes him a little more interested. If she speaks of a goddess, she’s not one of the church as he’s familiar with it. There are no crosses or the like on her person. 

He’s curious as to what goddess she follows--there’s a more important question, however. 

“And what task would it be, that you are asking a demon to do it?” 

An indifferent tone, regardless of his interest. 

#seirosu #;; Rhea 01 #sorry this took so long to reply to!

[dokukaku]

“Aren’t you happy?”

COMMENTS/QUESTIONS TO BE SENT ANONYMOUSLY (OR NOT, I DON'T CARE--) // X

((CW: CHILD NEGLECT, CHILD ENDANGERMENT MENTION))

"....no."

His phone had rung for no reason but to announce his birthday month--October--with the strange addition of Halloween themed confetti shooting out magically from the phone itself. It was startling, and so was the sudden attention of another person.

Just as quickly, Kouma sobered, eye downcast to the screen.

"It's not something I personally celebrate."

It's never been celebrated.

No, the Tohno mansion maids had tried to, for the brief years he was there. It was never good to waste food, but he still kept his distance, taking what he wanted and leaving to eat on his own.

Kouma's birth was not even something to be celebrated.

It wasn't until he learned words that he understood the distant sounds of celebration outside his lonely room as a child. The leftovers were a little more extravagant, but he always disliked the sweets. Yes, 'Happy Birthday' was always heard for anyone else in the Kishima mansion.

YOU WERE OUT OF YOUR MIND SINCE YOU WERE BORN.

The memory of the cold barrel of a pistol to his head.

#;; MEMEDAY BURNS #cw: child neglect #cw: child endangerment mention #[smiles in pain--] #we don't know the exact date but it's october so I'm determined to celebrate his birthday for the entirety of the month #Kohaku would definitely try and do something for him for his birthday

[dokukaku]

Questions/Comments to be sent anonymously!

(though off anon is fine too!)

“Is there someone you hold dear?”

“Don’t you feel any guilt?”

“You’re actually afraid to be alone, aren’t you?”

“There must be something you fear.”

“Do you have a home?”

“Is there someone you like?”

“Are you really expecting a positive outcome out of this?”

“Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Who do you despise?” 

“How do you sleep at night?”

“How do you manage to keep going despite everything?”

“What do you think of kindness?”

“What do you think of hatred?”

“Why do you fight?”

“Why do you live?”

“How much blood have you spilled?”

“How much death have you seen?”

“Don’t you think your actions are reckless?”

“Don’t you know how much good you’ve done for others?”

“Can’t you tell they love you?”

“Can’t you see he/she would die for you?”

“Can’t you see that they hate you?”

“Can’t you tell the truth for once?”

“You’re not tainted.”

“You’re not alone.”

“You’re awful.”

“You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”

“You’re an emotionless robot.”

“You’re just a lap dog.”

“It’s not over.”

“He/she needs you.”

“Stop lying.”

“Stop fighting.”

“Stop pushing others away.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re far too kind. Too kind for your own good.”

“You depend on him/her too often.”

“You’re overprotective, it’s stifling.”

“You’re too impulsive, it’s reckless.”

“You’re too careless, it’s a liability.”

“He/she is bringing you down.”

“You’re too timid, it’s easy to see you as a target.”

“You need to listen.”

“You need to speak up more often.”

“You’re weak.”

“You’re strong. Stronger than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re too proud.”

“Quit blaming others for your mistakes.”

“You won’t always be around to save him/her.”

“One day, he/she won’t need you anymore.”

“You can’t cheat death.”

“You can’t hide forever.”

“They’ll find out the truth eventually.”

“That person is only holding you back.”

“They’re too good for you.”

“You’ll be rewarded for your efforts if you keep trying.”

“It will get better.”

“You look lonely.”

“You look bitter.”

“You look tired.”

“You’re hiding a painful burden.”

“You’re perfect.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You will always be worthless.”

“Your hands are too dirty, too tainted to be clean.”

“You’re lost in this world. Wandering without a purpose.”

“You’ll rise above them all.” 

“You’ll find your place in this world.”

“Eventually, someone will knock you off your pedestal.”

#;; MEMEDAY BURNS

[dokukaku]

salxnja​:

@dokukaku​

“You see,” he says, sighing as he begins to speak. “No matter how much I exercise, I could never get as big as you.” Words are said with a light pout. He’s not wanting to get so big though. He’s perfectly content where his body is right now, but he has to admit this guy really is super intimidating. 

“What’s your secret?”

Was it the demonic blood? That was only part of it. His physique alone catches wary eyes indeed. Only those that fight him would know there’s more strength beyond what’s visibly comprehensible. 

None the less, the answer is simple; and presumably, easy to understand for someone who sounds so...superficial. 

“There are no secrets. Only strict discipline of mind and body. Our bodies are different, down to the blood and bones. Regardless, without discipline you could not hope to even come close--speaking as if you’ve already given up.” 

#salxnja #;; IIseong 01 #kouma vc: live in the mountains and find out

[dokukaku]

hiddenstar​:

“Ahh, there we are…”

“Right on time.”

“Is this your doing?” 

Kouma stands his distance from the strange other; sake bottle in hand, as he wanders the outskirts of the small groups of the other observers. Blood of an Oni in his own veins, his blurred inner senses could somewhat grasp what she was. 

“The illusion of the moon?” 

#hiddenstar #bdt otsukimi #;; Okina 01 #to the surprise of no-one (especially a touhou character) a half-oni with alcohol--

[dokukaku]

“...”

Kouma walks from grass and foliage to the edge of the river, ankle bandage a mess underneath his leather foot wraps. Heavy white coat bordered with fur over his shoulders, rough hands dig a bottle of sake out of the cold water and rocks. 

The full moon was all that moved across it’s ripples, wet leaves were discarded to the flow. 

Just as briskly as he had appeared, he trots across the chilly river water and disappears into the trees once again--barely bothered by his persisting injury.

The moon grows ever larger, and he intends to find a spot away from others to enjoy it. 

#isola mini #bdt otsukimi #moon's haunted here moon's haunted back home I don't give a shit time to sip--

[dokukaku]

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

Franz Kafka; The Metamorphosis (via qvotext)

#;; PLATED GOD [ MUSE ]

[dokukaku]

ONI EXISTED, LONG AGO, AND MY BLOOD IS ALL THAT IS LEFT 

@geometragic​

Eye tracing across old Buddhist texts, some perfectly preserved in their own corner of a much grander library. It was through these and years of listening to others whisper around his empty room that he eventually taught himself to speak. 

Only for the reason that he be heard at all. 

For the rest of the ones in the household to listen to him. 

There was no pride from the others when he first--finally--spoke his thoughts. That they found him cognizant. 

He only sensed their fear of him grew. 

Lips repeating words with no sound, here in the present. Instead of sitting somewhere, he forgets himself, and reads where he stands. In the way of someone else, it seems. 

“...” 

#geometragic #;; Shibata 01 #ahh sorry this took so long! #have a half demon boy reading spiritual texts... #u can tell he's a hybrid mostly from vibes but he's got the weird cat eye slit going on with his one eye too

[dokukaku]

atonings​:

@dokukaku || starter call

—✕ █ ▌Hiking the trails and woodlands of the island has GROWN to be a loved pastime for the weary old soldier. He's a fighter, a warrior, not always suited for the busy city life. And besides, he has Pokemon to walk and train, something of which could not be done with any degree of ease within the city's walls. Every Ward has parks and woodlands, but sometimes, he wants total silence, to walk about with NO distant howling of vehicles or murmuring voices.

Accompanying him being his Deerling, Fianna, fierce and STUBBORN she is. He'd much prefer possible altercations with wild animals than to suffer the consequences of his Pokemon chewing a hole through the leg of a jogger, after all, and as long as they don't trek any deeper than they are already, there's really NOTHING to fear. But, while he doesn't encounter a jogger, he does encounter someone else.

The Pokemon, predictably, doesn't take too kindly to another in her path, not with feet planted in her favourite patch of grass. So, before Loghain could say a SINGLE word, she headbutts the offender, right in the leg. MOVE.

❝I'm sorry about her. She's very ... peculiar.❞

As much as he loved the forest, how he longs to simply stay with his feet in the grass and view occupied by endless vegetation and animal life, eventually he’d have to return to the city. 

Had it been his own world, Kouma would be content to stay still. The cities of this island, as they are, are not fit for a demon like himself, nor is it an experience he even likes. The dishonest faces of day to day people, streams of unnecessary words and sounds. 

The expressions of terror. 

It’s the mystery of this island itself that would lead him to seek answers there, sparingly as possible. Who are the people who summoned him, and for what purpose? And how can they alter the very body he was born with like they have? 

There isn’t much of a budge when a ‘peculiar’ looking faun rams itself into his leg. Thankfully it wasn’t the injured ankle on the other foot, wrapped in tattered bandages. He barely turns, only glancing at the creature’s companion before he moves out of the lush spot of grass for the other. 

Animals needn’t speak to each other. 

Humans, however, want for words. 

Loghain is spared Kouma’s murderous default of an expression, as he only gestures with his blind side. 

A deep, gentle voice responds;  

“It is my own fault for being in the way of it.” 

#atonings #;; Loghain 01 #[waves] nature is good--

[dokukaku]

hcneycrxsp​:

If that’s what he thought then he’s not a bad person at all. She doesn’t understand why he feels that someone like her shouldn’t be hanging around someone like him. It’d all make sense if he was a horrible, horrible person. Like those men who came to take her away from her mother. It’s why they vanished. 

Oh,

the man steps out of the car and…

She’s not entirely sure what the feeling is, but there’s just no way she’d be able to pretend she never saw him. “Where are you going?” She’s not as shy as she used to be. Not as scared as she was when she first arrived in this strange place. She’s become a little more bolder and that’s why she steps out of the vehicle as well and rushes to stand in front of this strange man. 

“you woke me up…from sleeping.” And he plans to leave her? She may be familiar with her area, but. Oh, she’s pouting just a tad bit. 

“I’m going to find my bearings, to see if this place is real or not--and find who summons a demon without clear reason to.”  

A simple and forward answer, facing her with unchanging eye contact.

None of it makes any sense. 

She’s in front of him, stubborn and puffing her cheeks. His expression is still unchanged--he’s not sure what her facial expression means. He can pick up she is upset, but that’s beyond being able to read her face. The vague impressions of another’s true feelings. 

“Then go back to sleep at home.” 

Another short answer before he strides around her. Coat on his shoulders brushing past as he continues to walk half-barefoot on concrete. Unbothered by the rough terrain.

#hcneycrxsp #;; Girl 01 #i'm living for this rn #girl: u woke me up #kouma: then go back to bed???

[dokukaku]

hcneycrxsp​:

“Mmm,” She hums before shaking her head, “I do.” She replies. It’s true. She enjoys talking to one of her roommates. He’s very nice. offered her something to drink and all that, but…

Her attention remains on the man. Focused on his lip movement even if just a little bit it’s difficult to see. She can make out what he’s saying though.  For the most part at least. “Why are you taking me home then? If you can hurt me…why not pretend you didn’t see me?”

“...” 

It’s a good point she’s made. He could have--perhaps should have, left her where she was, and hoped another kind soul would have lent her a hand. She could be more than capable of handling herself, just as he was. 

“That would be the smarter choice, yes. I assumed you could not make it home by yourself, that someone would simply take advantage of you.” 

Kouma himself has been taken advantage of while he was young. After the mansion burned down, he could have lived in the wilds by himself. The other clans would not tolerate it--the remaining head of the Kishima’s living as a beast. Their pride was too strong. 

The other clan took him in, yet he was only put in another room by himself. As it should have been. Are demons--demon hybrids--the same here as they are back home? This is all still new. It all could still be a dream. An illusion. 

“You’re a very wise child. If you can handle your own, then I will leave you be.” 

He opens the door, stepping out quietly.

Looking at her directly once more, “Please pretend, that you did not see me either.” 

#hcneycrxsp #;; Girl 01 #girl: why are u helping #kouma: ur right why am I helping--