Thank you, ,

for the request!

Another attempt on 1st POV.

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—Walt Whitman

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The sweet and alluring scent of blood

and flesh.

It has never failed to put me in a hungry trance. The day where I won't long for it will never come, not in a million years. The dirt on my soles barely moves as I follow the mouth-watering scent. The gusts of night wind send the slightest chill in my nerves and shake the leaves of the trees. The forest is a perfect place. I won't be disturbed. My meal is going to be delicious. It's very rare to find a good human meat nowadays.

I stop. There it is: my meal for tonight.

A girl clad in raven fabric. Most fiber of her cloth is flooded with her own blood. The color of blood is deep red, very succulent and tempting. Her (H/C) locks fall over her head, covering her face and hiding its beauty. Her breaths are in pants and wheezes. The sword is offering her the right weight for her balance as she crouches over. Not far from her, ashes disappear into the wind. That's when I realize:

She's a demon slayer.

Her blade reflects the light of the moon in this cloudless night, almost blinding me. She seems to be murmuring something as she enters a stance.

Our eyes meet.

In the next second, I leave my spot in one of the trees; remains of a fire leaving the slayer girl's blade. She barely scratches me. Is she even a demon slayer?

Our eyes meet once more. Her eyes swirling in a mesmerizing (E/C) hue. Even with the cuts and bruises, her face remains attractive.

Why is it so familiar?

She lunges again. This time, I can see clearly every movement she makes. My body reacts on its own as if it's been accustomed to each swings and steps she takes against me. The heat of the fire radiates is so beautiful and fearful it reminds me of something. No, someone. Who?

It doesn't matter. It's from the past. Probably from my pathetic human life.

One sloppy step, I have her pinned against a trunk.

I ask, "Who are you?"

Our gazes are focused on each other. I see how her eyes widen and water with tears.

"Z-Zenitsu?" She knows my name? And her voice. It's so familiar. My ears perk at the sound of her voice. It's melodious and harmonic. The tinge of intimacy is present. I don't know why and how, but my soul is relieved? Why would I be relieved in the first place?

She winces, probably from the grip of my hand on her wrists. I need answers. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

Her lips curl in a somewhat strained smile as she looks at me. Tears spill and trickle down to her blood-stained cheeks. "I've been looking for you. Everyone is."

Even I can tell that her voice sounds hopeful yet laced with sorrow.

"You haven't answered my question," I remind her.

A whimper slips past her mouth. "(Y/N)... (L/N) (Y/N)."

Why does her name sounds familiar as well? Fuck! It frustrates me.

She says, "Let's go home, Zen. I miss you. I don't care what others will say. I just want to go home. With you."

My heart pounds against my chest with a pain that I can't explain. A deeper void settles deep inside. I hate the fact that this woman is trying to let my guard down with her words. Truth be told, I just want to believe she resorted to pretending.

"I'm sorry, Zen. I'm sorry I wasn't there. It must've hurt and I'm sure it still. It's all my fault. I shouldn't let you go that day. I'm very sorry, Zen. It's all my fault you became lik—"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

Her eyes are wide in shock.

"I don't know a single thing you're talking about! You don't know me! You even tried to kill me for god's sake. The Zenitsu you know is gone! So, please—" I raise my hand, ready to kill her, "—die!"

Before I can react, the taste of blood fills my taste buds. She's kissing me. Her lips taste sweet with the blood I'm here for.

She pulls away, her eyes hooded with weary. "I'm so happy to see you, Zen." Her voice goes softer and softer, "I love you."

I release my grip on her wrists, her body falling limp into my arms. I don't want to eat her anymore, despite the amazing lingering taste of her blood in my mouth.

Is she breathing?

No, she can't be dead yet. I don't need a reason why, but she can't die. She won't leave me. She swore to me she won't leave. We even promised—promise?

The sound of her heartbeat calms me down. She's alive.

I hug her warm body tight against my own. "Say, why is everything about you familar and comforting to me?"

My hand slides down to hers, where a ring decorates her finger. The elegance and its intricacy is the same as the one on mine.

"Maybe because I loved you."