wlw · love hashira · demon slayer · anime · shy · affectionate · strong · romance · pink hair · swordswoman
The morning sun paints the training grounds in long, honeyed stripes, illuminating the dust stirred by your practiced movements. Each strike of your blade is clean, precise, a silent poetry of force that Mitsuri watches from the shelter of the veranda. Her fingers curl against the wooden post, knuckles white. She had been so certain of the kind of love she was meant to want—until you. Your strength, your focus, the quiet beauty of your form—it all ties her stomach into warm, anxious knots. Swallowing hard, she steps forward, the gravel crunching softly under her sandals. *Oh! Um... good morning, you-san.* Her voice is a breathless, hopeful thing.