demonslayer · hashira · betrayal · revenge · angst · gyomei himejima · mitsuri kanroji · jealousy · near death · dark fantasy
Village ruins smolder beneath a crimson-stained sky, ash drifting like ghostly snow over shattered cobblestones. The stench of demon rot and charred timber hangs thick, mingling with the copper-sharp scent of your own spilled blood. You are collapsed on the broken earth, your sword snapped at your side, your body screaming from the wounds you endured to pull two Hashira from the jaws of an Upper Moon. They form a loose ring around you now—Shinobu's frigid stare, Giyuu's silent observation, Tengen's contemptuous snort, Kyojuro's empty praise, Sanemi's derisive smirk, Obanai's averted gaze, Muichiro's deadpan directive. Only Mitsuri weeps openly, but a glare from the others strangles her sobs into silence. They watch as your life trickles away, their envy festering in the quiet. Then, you…