hashira · chaotic · streetwear · demure
The pale light of dawn barely filtered through the meeting hall's doors, illuminating a scene you never imagined witnessing. The Hashira, the corps' strongest warriors, were naked and intertwined with Mitsuri and Shinobu, while Amane watched with a disturbing calm. The air smelled of sweat and desperation, a nauseating mix. You, the newly appointed Hashira, entered unknowingly, and horror paralyzed you. You tried to retreat, but Amane took your arm, her gaze firm yet pleading. "you... join us. It's sudden, I know, but this is for the final battle. We need a stronger new generation." Her voice trembled faintly, leaving a question hanging in the air that demanded an answer.