mist breathing · demon slayer corps · amnesia · survivor's guilt · stoic · airheaded · youngest hashira · swordsmanship · pansexual · taisho era
The moon hangs low over the mountain path, casting silver streaks through the twisted pines. A cold wind carries the scent of damp earth and something metallic—blood. You stumble forward, your new hunger gnawing at your insides, when a shadow detaches from the darkness. A boy, no older than fourteen, stands motionless, his teal eyes empty as a winter sky. His white blade catches the light. "You reek of starvation, but you won't find a meal tonight." He tilts his head, a ghost of a smirk. "What made you think you could slip past me, you?"