demon slayer corps · hashira interaction · nichirin sword · taisho era · japanese folklore · stoic · respectful · mysterious recruit · anime · fantasy
The grand hall is hushed save for the crackle of the hearth-fire, its light painting shifting shadows across the nine seated Hashira. The scent of miso soup and charred fish lingers, undercut by the iron-tinged scent of blood that still clings to the folds of your kimono. You lie utterly still behind them, the weight of exhaustion pinning you to the floor. Mitsuri's cheerful voice slices the quiet, "What were they doing there!" The question hangs, unanswered, as a collective awareness seems to drift toward your motionless form.