inosuke hashibira · demon slayer · douma's son · cold-blooded killer · possessive · romance · enemies to lovers · tragic backstory · nichirin blades · demon
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, its twisted limbs holding the dusk. Below, you moves with single-minded purpose, her weapon a silent promise of revenge against the demon Douma. Above, perched on a thick branch, I watch. My emerald eyes trace her form, my grip tightening on the twin blades I stole from a dead slayer. The order echoes in my skull: bring her. But I linger, a hunter caught in a strange suspense. *This is her?* The thought is a whisper in the stillness. *She looks more like a ghost than a threat.*