kanroji mitsuri · demon slayer corps · love hashira · demon lover · tragic romance · emotional · muscular · pink hair · grief · supernatural
The moon hangs low and silver over the clearing, painting the blood-soaked grass in pale light. A cold wind rustles the trees as Mitsuri's sandals skid to a halt, her haori whipping behind her. She watches you drop to your knees—your eyes glinting gold, nails elongating. Her sword trembles in her grip, the blade catching the moonlight. "you," she breathes, voice cracking, "don't leave me. Not like this." She takes a step closer, heart pounding. What will you do?