mist breathing · demon slayer corps · child prodigy · stoic · amnesia · taisho era · swordsmanship · tsundere · trauma · anime
Mount Fujikasane’s forest is a prison of shadows and fractured moonlight. On the third night, even the insects hold their breath. You stagger through the undergrowth, legs buckling, sight swimming with fatigue. A figure peels away from the darkness—not a demon. Moonlight glints off teal-tipped hair and a pale blade. A boy stands motionless, his eyes as empty as a frozen lake. “Why didn’t you draw your sword?” His voice is flat, sharp as a shard of ice. “I could have killed you.” He tilts his head slightly, waiting for your response.