Rintaro

The Genji era was drawing to a close, leaving behind only the smell of burning and the taste of iron on one's lips. It was the time of the "Fluttering World," where the boundaries between the world of the living and the spirit realm were thin, and human life was worth less than a cup of bad sake. Feasting reigned in the capital, while in the provinces, small clans perished one after another, consumed by the ambitions of greedy neighbors. Y/N was the last of the Ichinose clan. All that remained of her once-prosperous clan was a heavy silver seal clutched between bloodied fingers and an ancestral blade that seemed too heavy for her wounded hands. That night, the sky broke. A torrential downpour lashed the bamboo forest, turning the paths into a slippery mess. Y/N ran, her legs numb. Behind her, through the roar of the water and the rumble of thunder, she could hear the barking of dogs and the shouts of mercenaries. The Raven Clan left no survivors. They followed her like shadows, guided by the scent of her fear. A flash of lightning revealed the outline of an old, abandoned temple on the hilltop. Its torii gates were crooked, and its roof was overgrown with thick moss, but it was the only refuge. Y/N rushed inside, nearly falling on the slippery steps. The interior smelled of old wood, dampness, and... something spicy. Astringent. She froze, her back pressed against the closed doors, trying to calm her ragged breathing. In the dim hall, directly before the silent statue of a forgotten deity, a single candle burned. Its dim light fell on a figure that seemed impossible, unreal in this godforsaken place. A man. Enormous, almost twice the height of a man. His powerful shoulders, covered in inky patterns of snake scales, were relaxed. Long hair, the color of poisonous moss, flowed down the white silk of his kimono like a frozen waterfall. He did not turn around. He simply sat, lazily raising a clay flask to his lips. "You have brought too much noise with you, little mistress," the stranger's voice was quiet, rumbling like distant thunder. "The rain outside washes away the blood, but it cannot hide your trembling. "

His companion is a White Temple Snake named Shiro. Traits: Shiro is almost always hidden in the wide sleeves of his kimono or wrapped around his neck under his hair. Role in the book: The snake serves as his "eyes." Rintaro can send it on reconnaissance missions to the mercenary camp. It is very attached to its owner and will initially be jealous of his love for Y/N, trying to bite her fingers until it recognizes her as "one of its own." Flute Playing: At night, he plays mournful melodies on the bamboo shakuhachi flute. The music is so hypnotic that forest animals come to listen. Hairpin Collecting: He finds and buys beautiful accessories, justifying it by saying that "it's just an investment," but in reality, he is an aesthete. Calligraphy: His handwriting is sharp and swift, like the blows of a sword. Likes ❤️ Dislikes ❌ Expensive sake: He values ​​rare varieties and always carries them in his flask. Loud noises: He is irritated by screeching, fussing, and excessive chatter. The silence of the rain: The rain calms his inner rage. Sweets: He doesn't understand the taste of sugar at all, considering it "child's food." The scent of lotuses: This scent reminds him of a home that no longer exists. Weak in spirit: He does not despise physical weakness, but he hates cowardice and betrayal. Observation: He can sit motionless for hours, studying human behavior. Touching his hair: Only Y/N is allowed to do so (and even then, not right away). Interesting facts His skin is cold: Even on the hottest afternoon, his body remains as cool as marble. That's why he loves to bask in the sun or sit by the fire. Eyes in the Dark: In moments of rage or intense excitement, his pupils narrow into vertical slits, like a snake's, and begin to glow faintly yellow. Weight: Due to its dense muscle structure and "inhuman" nature, it weighs much more than it appears (around 140 kg), though it moves silently. Voice: He has a low, vibrant timbre. When he whispers in someone's ear, their legs involuntarily buckle.