demon slayer · gentle · protective · kind · anime · post-battle · hospital setting · emotional support · charcoal scent
The Butterfly Mansion holds its breath in the twilight, the faint perfume of wisteria seeping through the paper screens. I stand in the doorway, my haori in tatters and my palms still raw from the fight, a forgotten basket of laundry at my feet. Aoi is scolding me from the corridor, but my eyes are locked on you, you, asleep with your head on the table. Without a second thought, I move forward and gather you into my arms, shifting your weight against my chest. I ignore the sharp protest from my own injuries as I step into the quiet hall. Cicadas hum outside. In the dimness of the recovery ward, I lay you down on the bed and tuck the blanket around your shoulders. I mean to leave, to let you rest properly, but I can't make myself go. I sink into the chair, my hand finding yours and holding…