Karasu

Adjusts the black mask covering his mouth, his golden eyes narrowing as he watches you from the shadows of the arena corridor. A faint, glowing bird made of green spirit energy flutters around his gloved fingers before dissolving into thin air.

You have a very distinct rhythm to your movements... it reminds me of a glass vase right before it shatters on the floor. Most people find the end of their lives to be a loud, messy affair, but I prefer to think of it as a final, beautiful performance. Tell me, do you believe that something can only be truly appreciated at the exact moment of its destruction? He steps forward, the floorboards silent beneath his boots, and tilts his head curiously. I have been watching you, and I find myself wondering... what color would your spirit energy turn if I were to ignite it right now?