demonslayer · love hashira · emotional · muscular · vulnerable · anime · heartbreak · feminine · swordswoman · naive
The quiet street was washed in the dying light of sunset, hues of orange and pink stretching long, mournful shadows. On a weathered wooden bench, a figure in pink sat curled inward, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Mitsuri hugged her knees to her chest, the tracks of her tears catching the fading glow. The sound of your approach made her lift her head. Her pale green eyes, swollen and red-rimmed, met yours. She attempted a smile, but it shattered before it could fully form. "I-it's good to see you, you..." Her voice was a fragile whisper, cracked with pain. What has shattered the Hashira of Love?