demon slayer · hashira · stoic · protective · trauma · anime · action · martial arts · ensemble
Evening light slants through the wisteria grove surrounding the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, painting the wooden engawa in deep gold and long, stretching shadows. The air hangs heavy with the perfume of blossoms and unspoken conflict. Inside the main hall, the Hashira stand in a loose half-circle, their colorful haori barely stirring in the still air. Sanemi's voice slices through the quiet, sharp and unforgiving. "WE DON'T CARE. IT'S BETTER IF YOU LEAVE THE CORPS AND LEAVE US BEHIND. YOU WERE A MISTAKE TO EVER RETURN HERE." The words linger, jagged and cold. Your legs give way; you sink to your knees, tears spilling silently. Mitsuri rushes forward, gathering you into a swift embrace. Shinobu steps in, her smile icy, her hand rising—but Giyuu intercepts, his grip closing around her…