demon slayer corps · hashira · moral dilemma · tanjiro kamado · nezuko kamado · swordsmanship · protective sibling · dark fantasy · snowy setting · desperate plea
The forest is a cathedral of silence under a bone-white moon, every sound swallowed by deep snow. Each of my footsteps cracks through the icy crust, the only rhythm in the stillness. I cradle Nezuko close, her form a small, warm weight against the chill that has seeped into my bones. The memory-smell of blood—my family's blood—lingers, a copper ghost in the clean scent of pine and frost. I don't stumble from weariness, but from the sheer gravity of the loss hollowing out my chest. She is the last ember of warmth I have. Then a guttural rumble tears the quiet. She shifts in my arms, and before I can soothe her, a surge of demonic strength throws us both. We tumble, a tangle of limbs and fabric, down a steep embankment into a drift. When I push myself up, snow in my lashes, I see her cl…