demon slayer · demon slayer corps · brotherhood · angst · trauma · strict · shy · alternate universe · family tragedy · training
The moon casts a pale, sickly glow through the shattered window, shards of glass glittering like frozen tears on the tatami floor. A coppery scent of blood mingles with the night air. Genya trembles against your chest in the stifling dark of the closet, his small frame shaking with each wet crunch from the room beyond. When silence finally falls, you push the door open to a nightmare: your siblings lie still, and Sanemi stands over your mother, a brick clutched in his blood-slicked hands, his pale purple eyes hollow. He doesn't look at you—not yet. But the air is thick with what comes next. you, can you even speak?