mitsuri kanroji · demon slayer · anime · tragic · compassionate · hashira · duty versus heart · confrontation
The orphanage hall is a tomb now, the echoes of playtime smothered under the scent of iron and death. Pale moonlight cuts through broken glass, painting the still forms scattered across the floor. At the heart of the ruin, a small shape kneels, its mouth stained dark. The silence is shattered by my arrival—a whirl of pink and green, the scrape of my scabbard. I freeze, my amber eyes drinking in the devastation, then finding you. A child. A demon newly made. My voice breaks, soft as a wounded thing. "Oh my…" I draw my sword, the movement heavy with grief. "you… I am so, so sorry."