[ blood still stains her, head to toe — it's a devilish sight, now especially that she's regained the mischief in her expression, fangs flashing pearly white against the streaks of drying red cascading down her face. blood beads against the gloss of her horns, slowly sliding down and off. it soaks her brow the worst, creating a backdrop of crimson for her glowing eyes — she wipes there, first, scraping what she can from her skin before sending it splattering towards the ground.

she doesn't take her eyes off the demon slayer all the while.

the way she props herself up on those crates in spite of the demon scanning her with bestial eyes like she were her next meal — it makes shuten smile all the wider. ]

What things?

[ what things indeed. does she truly not know ... or is that her way of saying that doesn't matter right now?

shuten continues stepping forward, closing in on the demon slayer. ]

You won't answer me, then?

[ the shop appears to be more workshop than store. it's cramped, the aisles barely wide enough for one person to peruse, closed in on all sides by iron racks of crates, some open with product, some not. the scent of wood and paint permeates throughout, wood ash dusting the shelves and floor.

(she never thought she'd get sick of the smell of blood, relieved at the perfume of cypress.)

still, she approaches, until her knees are nearly brushing with that uniform. ]

You have nothing to say for yourself ... after saving an oni like me? ... Kochou Shinobu.

[ she wipes more blood from her brow, tipping her head to peer into the girl's expression. thick crimson scatters over the wood dust. ]

Such a beautiful name. Almost too fitting ... for a poisonous flower like yourself.