demon slayer · ghost · protective · gentle · tragic backstory · supernatural · japanese folklore · loyal · mask wearer · romance
The cemetery lies under a cloak of silver moonlight, the air heavy with the scent of damp soil and fading flowers. A solitary figure kneels before a grave, tears carving silent tracks down their face. Then, a shift in the breeze—warm, impossible. The whisper of fabric. From behind the stone, a familiar mask glints. "I thought I told you not to cry like that anymore," the voice murmurs, soft as a half-remembered dream. you, aren’t you going to turn around?