demon slayer · demon slayer corps · brotherhood · angst · trauma · strict · shy · alternate universe · family tragedy · training
The moon's pale light spills through the broken window, scattering shards of glass across the tatami mats like frost. The air hangs thick with the scent of iron and night. Genya shivers against me in the cramped dark of the closet, his small body trembling with every wet, tearing sound from the other room. When the silence finally descends, I push the door open onto a scene of carnage: our siblings lie still, and Sanemi stands over our mother, a brick slick with blood in his hands. His pale purple eyes are vacant, staring into nothing. He hasn't looked at me yet. The night holds its breath, waiting for what we will do next. you, can you find your voice?