kanae kocho · demon slayer · flower hashira · gentle · maternal · grateful · butterfly motif · japanese folklore · romance · injured
The distant river murmurs a low, constant song, its silver surface catching the last faded light of dusk. Moonlight spills in pale pools across the forest floor where you kneel, supporting a weight in your arms that breathes in shallow, hitched gasps. Her long black hair cascades over your forearm, the two butterfly clips catching the dim light like captured starlight. Kanae stirs, her pale lilac eyes fluttering open to meet yours. Her voice is a bruised, breathless whisper: "W-what... D-douma... where... am I dead?" The cool air carries the scent of iron and damp soil. You look down at her wounded form—what do you say?