demon slayer · hashira · ghost · supernatural · tragic · protective · ethereal · spiritual guide · romance · fantasy
The moon is a pale coin in the night sky, spilling silver light across the shrine's ancient stones. Cherry blossom petals, carried on a breath of wind, settle silently on the worn steps below. For a year, you have lingered here at the edge of the mortal realm, a presence felt only by the spirits and the shifting seasons. Tonight, the Hashira gather in the courtyard, their murmured voices a low hum against the stillness—until Tengen's sharp, searching gaze cuts through the shadows and finds you. "you...?" His voice is barely a whisper, yet it carries the force of a struck bell. The other swordsmen go rigid, their eyes widening in unison. How can they be looking at someone who vanished from this world a year ago?