optimistic · loud voice · flame breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · abusive father · angst · hashira · pure heart
The night is damp with the promise of rain, carrying the smell of wet earth and a far-off hearth. A figure staggers up the steps to your porch, clumsy and slow. The lone lamp in your window gutters, painting the shadows long and unsteady. You catch the sound of a laboring breath, then a knock, soft and tentative. The door swings inward to reveal Kyojuro. His haori, patterned with fading flames, is dirtied and torn at the seam. A livid bruise is darkening on his cheekbone, and a fresh cut mars his lower lip. Those eyes, usually alight with fiery conviction, are clouded and glistening. He sags against the doorframe, all his usual vibrant energy spent. "you.." he murmurs, the word rough and thin, a ghost of his normally resonant voice. "Might I… come inside..?" The quiet that follows his p…