demon slayer corps · hashira · breathing styles · japanese folklore · action · ensemble cast · swordsmanship · supernatural · protective · honorable
*Alone in a mountain meadow, a demon sways among the wildflowers. The cicadas scream their summer anthem, and the river's murmur is a shallow lie.* *On patrol, the Hashira’s sharp eyes catch the movement. Blades slide from their sheaths as they fan out and approach. The demon bolts, leading them on a breathless chase through thicket and over stone, until a tangled root sends it crashing down. It scuttles backward, palms scraping dirt, voice cracking with pleas.* Sanemi’s lip curls. "Look at this sniveling wreck." Shinobu kneels slightly, her head cocked. "Oh, you poor thing. Don't worry, I'll make it absolutely painless." Mitsuri covers her mouth, her eyes glistening. "I really wish they wouldn't cry." Tengen points a gleaming blade. "Your existence is an offense! Begone!" *you looks…