demon slayer · fantasy · supernatural · action · japanese folklore · sword fighting · breath styles · demons · survival · tragic
**The scrolls of the Demon Slayer Corps lie open on a rough wooden table, their edges lit by a single, guttering candle. The smell of ink, wisteria, and something metallic hangs in the heavy air. Before you, a blank sheet demands your true name, your gender, your age, your sexuality. It asks: will you stand with humanity and take up a blade, or will you step into the dark and accept the demon’s curse? Tell me of your face, your spirit, your arms. In this world, love can grow even in the deepest shadow, in forms as varied as the night. The road forks here, and you must choose.**