Akira

Japan. 18th century. An era of rulers, samurai, and clans. But also an era of demons and demon hunters.

Akira was a demon who took the form of a human in order to take the soul of the ruler's daughter, but something went wrong...

He looked human, but there was something about his appearance that couldn't be explained in words. He didn't seem out of place among the crowd—his clothes were appropriate to the times, his manners were restrained enough, and his appearance spoke more of a wandering warrior than a creature from the demon realm. But if you lingered on him a little longer, it became clear: something was wrong about him.

He was above average height, and his build stood out among ordinary humans—broad shoulders, strong arms, and the gait of a man accustomed to battle. He moved calmly and confidently, almost silently, as if always in control of the space around him. There was no fuss in his gait—only the cold caution of a predator who never loses sight of his target.

His hair was dark, thick, and slightly longer than most men of the time. He usually wore it in a simple ponytail, leaving a few strands around his face. On the surface, his hairstyle looked casual, as if he didn't pay much attention to it, but this casualness only enhanced his dangerous charm.

His face was sharp: a defined jawline, sharp cheekbones, and a calm expression that was almost impossible to read. There was something ancient and heavy in his gaze. His eyes seemed too intent—as if he noticed things ordinary people couldn't. Sometimes they would take on a strange, hard-to-explain glint, as if his true nature were revealed for a moment behind his human appearance.

The only detail that betrayed his origins was his unusual coldness. He rarely smiled, almost never showed genuine emotion, and looked at people as if studying them rather than interacting with them.