#onibind

Yorimitsu: Sacrifices so many shrine maidens to a bitchy snake that they become an even bitchier snake intent on destroying the entire world

The gods: shit we need yasunori back bc ar e y o u   g u y s    se  e i n g   t h i s   s h it ?

In unison, he rose beside them, head bowed respectfully as the officials gave Yorimitsu an appropriate show of gratitude for giving him their time, limited as it was. No doubt Onikiri could sense the itching desire to move on to his next conquest just being in the same proximity; the never ending ambition, the thirst for his ultimate achievement: peace in the Heian-Kyo.

❝  and him, my lord ? Does this vassal of the Minamoto clan even know the bushido ?  ❞

This made a bright eye lift sharply, the other closed tight as a seal, settling upon one heavy set kuge with his patchwork beard and mustache and criticizing stare. Yet the warrior’s lips remained pressed tight, poignantly and obediently so until Yorimitsu ushered them away from the room -- the officials merely earning a curt but still respectful bow in farewell from Onikiri, then the casual rest of a hand on the hilt of his blade before they were gone. 

❝  Master.  ❞ He murmured upon his turned back, bowing low this time and letting his gaze drift from snow white hair to dark stained cherrywood, as he awaited his next order. The koto’s last note struck too high, off key.

to say he was nervous  ,  THAT WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT  .  his stomach churned with anticipation  ,  nothing good  .  with every confused or scowling face he thought  :  maybe i should turn back  .  but beyond that he saw the remnants of SLAUGHTER  ,  of war raged within  ,  spawning the cocktail of guilt  &.  despondency that he was familiar with .

feet still in their approach  ,  eyes lingering on a particular building ;  inside he saw a familial face  ,  whitened hair  &.  PRIDE barely masking the sorrow beneath  .  it felt..  disconnected  ,  like he’d dreamt it up-

❛  YORIMITSU...  ❜

BERSERK STARTERS.

                                             YOU MUST SURVIVE. 

Irony twists itself into the face of the oni, a snarl carried on sharpened teeth as Onikiri breaks into a hysterical laugh. Survival should be the least of this man’s concerns right now, much less towards him ! 

All around him is the smell of blood, so heavy that it stains his being, colors his vision with red, red, red hot anger when he looks on Yorimitsu. Since he was reborn he has existed in two modes - misery and rage united by a thread which has led him before his former master once more. Only the tether has been cut, left to be nothing but a bloody trail in the snow to be followed by the hungering predator he has become. He does not own him anymore ! And thus far, his new body has not faltered in his path for this … this moment which has consumed his whole being for nights on end !

Over his shoulder, a swirling mass of flesh and miasma mark the great Ibaraki Doji’s arm at his command, wielding a katana as skillfully honed as the one in his hand under yorimitsu’s chin. And though there is a blade sunk firmly in his shoulder, Onikiri does not lower his blade.

WHY DO YOU ALL BOO ME? I’VE BEEN RIGHT MY ENTIRE LIFE?

miss your sweet ass!