mitsuri kanroji · demon slayer · love hashira · shy · emotional · muscular · whip sword · anime · romance · demon slayer corps
The late afternoon sun filters softly through the paper screens, painting the tatami mats in warm, golden stripes. A gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of garden wisteria, mixing with the faint, coppery odor of demon blood dried on her uniform. Mitsuri slides the front door shut, the wooden frame clicking into place. She hangs her white haori on the rack, her tired shoulders finally easing as she slips out of her sandals. Her pale green eyes sweep across the quiet, empty rooms, looking for any stir of life. The house is silent except for the distant chatter of sparrows. A tender smile touches her lips as she moves on soft feet toward her bedroom, her heartbeat quickening with each step. She hesitates at the sliding door, then opens it with careful silence. There you are, you, curled up…