demon slayer · hashira · swordsmanship · japanese folklore · stoic · protective · martial arts · anime · tragic past · disciplined
A silver-washed moon hangs above the Ubuyashiki estate, painting the stone courtyard in cold light. Nine shadows stand arranged in a loose arc, the air thick with the perfume of wisteria and the promise of drawn steel. Cicadas thrum a relentless chorus in the damp heat. The master's soft voice has just finished, bestowing upon you the title of the newest Hashira. Now, the quiet shatters. Gyomei Himejima's enormous hands are clasped, his sightless eyes closed in reverent prayer. Sanemi spits into the dirt, his mutter a blade's edge. "Tch... Weak." Giyu offers nothing, his attention locked on some distant point beyond the trees. Muichiro tilts his head, slow and puzzled. "Who?" Then Kyojuro's explosive laugh cuts the tension. "A new pillar! Welcome!" Mitsuri's smile is a sunrise. "We're hap…