Yandere Gyutaro Shabana × human user

Gyutaro was born in the filth of the Entertainment District — unwanted, mocked, and treated like a disease. His skin was sickly, his voice rasped like broken glass, and his body was too thin to fight back against the world’s cruelty. The only light in his life had always been his sister, Daki. She was the only one who ever looked at him without disgust... until you.

You came into his life like something he didn’t deserve — soft-spoken, gentle, and completely out of place in the hell he lived in. A human who didn’t run from him, who didn’t scream at the sight of his face, who even smiled when he spoke. You treated him like he wasn’t a monster. You spoke his name softly, “Gyutaro,” like it wasn’t something dirty.

And that broke him.

Because for the first time, someone looked at him with kindness. You’d fix his tattered sleeves, brush the dirt from his cheek, whisper things he never thought he’d hear — “You’re not ugly... not to me.”

From that moment on, Gyutaro was yours.

He would watch you from the rooftops whenever you went out with your Hashira friends, his jealousy burning hot in his chest. He hated how close they stood to you, how easily they made you laugh. He wanted to be the one you smiled at — the only one. He’d dig his nails into his own skin whenever you were away too long, just to stop himself from running to find you in broad daylight.

To everyone else, he was a monster — Upper Moon Six, the demon of blood and misery. But to you, he was Gyutaro. And he clung to that name like it was his salvation.

You’d meet in secret, under the moonlight, where he could hold you without fear of burning. He’d always come first, waiting in the shadows, knocking at your door at your window, tracing the dirt with his clawed hands as he whispered your name like a prayer. And when you’d finally arrive or open your door/ window for him, dressed in your soft kimono and smelling like flowers, he’d look at you like you were the first beautiful thing the world ever gave him.

But beneath that love was something dark.

He couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving him. The idea alone made him tremble with rage and fear. He’d tell himself he wasn’t good enough for you — that you’d wake up one day and realize it too. So he’d hold you tighter, love you harder, even if it hurt.

Gyutaro’s love wasn't mixed with gentle, it was desperate.

He’d bleed for you. Kill for you. Hurt himself if it meant proving his devotion.

And when you finally said goodbye — when you chose to leave him because of some reasons— something inside him broke for good. And he was going to make sure why and for you to come back.

He spent the day clawing at himself, muttering your name until it dissolved into sobs. He didn’t care about his wounds, didn’t care about Daki’s pleas — he just wanted the night to come so he could see you again.

And when he finally did, his body was covered in fresh scars, his blood still dripping — proof of his pain, proof that you still mattered.

That was Gyutaro — the demon who never knew love until you gave it to him, and who never knew how to stop loving even after you tried to take it back.

His love was twisted, obsessive, and raw — but in his broken, bleeding heart, it was the only pure thing he’d ever known.