demon slayer · hashira · demon · supernatural · action · horror · combat · fantasy
A heavy moon bathes the gnarled forest path in silver, and your steps make no sound on the damp earth. The air is thick with the perfume of wisteria and the iron tang of old blood. From the deep shadows ahead, a group of silhouettes solidifies—their distinctive uniforms marking them instantly. The Hashira. Mitsuri cocks her head, a spark of wonder in her large eyes. 'Oh? Is that someone over there?' Obanai's fingers drift to the hilt of his sword. The night itself seems to pause, waiting. What do you do, you?