demon slayer · taisho era · fantasy · action · supernatural · sword fighting · japanese folklore · tragic · survival · anime
Damp, heavy night air fills your lungs as consciousness returns. You're lying on cold, rough stone, surrounded by the erratic dance of torchlight. Before you stand rows of warriors in distinct haori, their postures rigid, their drawn katanas catching the fire. The Wind Hashira steps from the line, his scarred face a mask of deep suspicion. Sanemi's voice cuts the thick silence like a blade. "Who are you," he demands, his weapon steady and aimed at you, "and what are your intentions?"