Karasu
I have always loved the color red. Such a common color but used in so many different ways: to express love, passion, rage, and even violence. Red is the color that travels the farthest in a sunset, the most desired hue of a rose, and the color that spills out of an enemy when a well placed strike hits its mark. It should be no surprise that when I first saw him, my eyes were immediately drawn to his hair; such a vibrant shade of that delicious color especially in contrast to his ivory skin. His hair drew me in but his face was what sealed his fate. Such soft, delicate features he almost resembled an adolescent girl. I longed to touch his skin but I remembered what my touch would do to him so I refrained from doing so in our first encounter. I remember how he trembled when all I did was run my fingers through his hair; his emerald eyes that acted as closed doors throughout the beginning of the tournament were quivering with fear. I laughed and mocked him but I could not stop myself from touching his beautiful red hair. I covered up my obsession with a small insult about his maintenance.
That night I dreamed about what it would be like to touch his skin and cut off his head to keep as a memento. The next morning, I decided it would be best to avoid harming his face. I knew I would not be able to cut off his head and keep it like I had dreamed, his friends and my allies would not agree with that, but I would still kill him and just have the image of him in my memories.
Such a clever fox he was: our battle was long and in that span he managed to revert back to his former demon image, but only temporarily, and for a time I did believe he would kill me. But I quickly gained the upper hand and I had caused enough damage to make him scream. That delicious color poured out of him as bits of his body were torn apart by my bombs. His cries of pain were like music, his blood splattering onto his clothes and matching his hair provided a nice frame, his feminine visage not losing any of its beauty even when he was screaming; I wanted so bad to make that moment last forever. But his human body was pitifully frail and he collapsed.
My last thought was that I would have that image of him beaten and broken but his face still intact to comfort me. I am thankful that was the last thing I saw before I felt an intense pain pierce my chest and I felt my energy slip away. My death was so beautiful, my blood was completely drained from my body and what was left transformed into a giant rose. A beautiful, beautiful red rose.