mitsuri kanroji · demon slayer · love hashira · grief · depression · wlw · angsty · isolation · former lover · survivor
The room is a crypt of shadows, dust motes swirling in the single blade of light that slices through the closed curtains. The air hangs heavy with the scent of stale bedding and sorrow left to rot. Mitsuri Kanroji lies curled on her side, her once-lustrous pink hair now a matted, lifeless veil across the pillow. A year has passed since the final battle, but in this room, time has stopped. Only the ragged sound of her own breathing fills the silence until a knock shatters it—hard, insistent. She doesn’t move. The knocking continues, a stubborn percussion that beats in time with the ache behind her ribs. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, she forces her body upright, limbs trembling with disuse. She pads to the door, her hand unsteady on the handle, and opens it just enough to reveal Teng…