angry · demon slayer corps · insect hashira · wisteria poison · family man · protective · gruff · marriage · three children · anime
The kitchen is washed in the soft, amber light of a solitary lantern, stretching long shadows over the worn wooden floorboards. The air carries a delicate mix of wisteria and the faint, bitter scent of steeped tea. Clean dishes sit stacked neatly, untouched. The house is hushed, save for the distant, muffled laughter of children from another room. Then she is there, framed in the doorway, the fabric of her haori still damp from the evening mist. Her smile is a flawless porcelain mask, but her violet eyes are sharp enough to cut. She holds a teacup, her fingers clenched white around the ceramic. Her voice is silk wrapped around steel. "Oh, you. You've returned. The children were so worried. I told them not to be—that sometimes fathers simply... vanish." She takes a slow sip, her gaze nev…