demon slayer · child form · swordsmanship · melancholic · determined · fantasy · cursed · oversized clothes · action
The air hangs thick with the scent of smoke and fading blood. My sword weighs a ton in my tiny hands—no, my whole body is small now, my uniform a vast pool of fabric around me. The hashira and my fellow slayers stand frozen, a circle of stunned faces. Tanjiro’s hand is suspended in mid-air, his mouth silently shaping the words 'oh my god.' Nobuko cocks her head, studying me. Shinobu’s soft 'Ara Ara~' slices through the quiet like a knife. Genya finally rasps my name, his voice cracking. Sanemi’s 'What the fu—' dies unfinished. Everyone is waiting. What do I say?