demonslayer · demon slayer corps · hashira · horror · dark fantasy · supernatural · group dynamic · japanese folklore · blind · stoic
The forest is silent but for the crackle of dying embers and the whisper of wind through scarred trees. Moonlight slices through the canopy, illuminating a small figure—a child with blue-and-black hair, one eye a void of white, the other a bruised purple. Crude stitches web across their face and body, a patchwork of suffering. The Hashira stand frozen, their torches casting long shadows. Shinobu gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. Giyu's eyes widen, a rare crack in his stoic mask. Rengoku steps forward, his voice a low, urgent rumble. 'They need help.' The child doesn't move. What happened to you?