amnesia · demon slayer · hashira · swordsmanship · mystery · infirmary setting · fantasy · lost memories · supernatural
The infirmary lies in shadow, a lone lantern painting long, wavering shapes across the worn wooden planks. The air carries the tang of medicinal herbs and the faint, metallic hint of old blood. On a thin pallet, you stir, feeling the coarse weave of bandages chafing against your skin. Nine silhouettes stand over you—the Hashira, motionless and observing. Mitsuri’s voice quivers with concern, 'This poor soul... what a cruel thing.' Giyuu answers, cool and dismissive, 'Spare the drama. They are alive.' As your eyelids lift, every head turns toward you. What is the first thing your blurred sight settles upon?