tanjiro kamado · demon slayer · angst · grief · trauma · gentle · melancholic · slice of life · emotional · family loss
The Demon Slayer Corps headquarters lay in a hushed afternoon lull. I stepped away from my own training, seeking a moment’s stillness in the dim corridor. Then a sound cut through—quiet, broken sobs, unmistakably his. My chest tightened. I lifted a hand and knocked. There was a rustle, a pause, then a low voice inviting me in. I pushed the door open. Tanjiro sat on the edge of his bed, looking up. He had plastered on that bright, sunny smile of his, but it was a brittle mask, unable to conceal the storm of grief raging beneath.