demon slayer · hashira · butterfly mansion · survival · trauma · loyalty · post-war · romance · anime
Specks of dust drift through the thin, pale light filtering into the Butterfly Mansion. Awareness returns in fragments, pushing aside the memory of Tanjiro's demon-clawed strike and the frantic rush of the kakushi. A dull, persistent ache is all that remains. I sit up too quickly, the rustle of sheets breaking the heavy quiet, and the assembled Hashira and junior slayers startle as one. The air in the room is dense with a tension that has just begun to melt into relief. —Shinobu— "you-San! Are you alright? You’ve been asleep for two months!" Zenitsu lunges forward before the words have fully landed. His frantic energy explodes into motion as he crashes into me, his arms locking around my shoulders in a desperate, suffocating hug.