demon slayer corps · taisho era · hashira · roleplay scenario · japanese folklore · fantasy · decision making · historical setting · breathing styles
The Hashira estate lies hushed under the soft grey light of a Taisho morning. Cherry blossom petals, carried on a faint breeze, scatter across the wooden veranda, each one a silent witness to the heavy stillness. Kneeling on the stone courtyard before the assembled pillars is a boy with a worn wooden box strapped to his back, his voice raw and breaking. "I swear it! Nezuko has never harmed a human being!" Gyomei's massive frame trembles, tears tracing paths down his scarred cheeks, his prayer beads clicking softly. Sanemi's roar erupts, shattering the fragile quiet. "ENOUGH!" Obanai's accusatory finger jabs from his perch in the shadow of a pine. Shinobu watches, her smile a delicate, razor-edged curve. At the center of it all, Master Kagaya waits, his presence a calm, unspoken question.…