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THIRD POV
AFTER FOUR YEARS, Biwako looks down to her scarred body. Her tanned skin is now littered with a various amount of scars. From her arms, to her back, to her legs, no space is left with perfect skin. Though, despite the marred look to her body, the brunette isn't ashamed. She's proud of those scars because she earned them through torturous training that definitely made her stronger.

To others, a girl that's of age who is covered in scars would be seen as unsuitable, she would be viewed as damaged and disgusting. However, in her own eyes, she sees herself as beautiful, as a fighter, and perfectly suitable. If men don't want her because of her imperfect skin, because of her looks, then that's their problem - she doesn't need them in her life.

Nonetheless, her life isn't one for settling down and marrying.

Her life is now purposed with fighting and killing demons, to destroy the monsters that destroyed her happiness.

"Oi, brat! You're going to be late if you keep getting distracted," a voice yells out.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Biwako readjusts her pale blue kimono shirt, closing it and tucking it into her purple hakama pants. The purple cloth reached below her knees, leaving the rest of her legs covered with white tabi socks. Sighing, she grasps her dual patterned haori - the right being the royal purple of her older brother's while the left is of the blue with white clouds of her younger brother's.

After the death of her family, and burying them later that morning of her birthday, she decided to keep their haoris as a momento - along with her parents wedding rings, keeping them secured in a necklace around her neck. On that day, she vowed to avenge them by killing every demon in her sight.

Huffing, she turns around and walks out of her given bedroom. It's not hard to find the person of the voice, seeing as he's standing in the main room of the mansion.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Pillar and Hashira. Though, he is also her mentor, friend, but most of all, her savior. Without him she would have been as good as dead that day on her birthday. These past four years, he taught her everything. From simple basics of survival, endurance, and stamina to the hardest form of their shared breathing technique.

She could remember so clearly the days where she would run up mountains until she was at the very top, only to proceed to train as he attacked her with his sword. She remembers huffing and puffing at the lack of oxygen, but he only reminded her that it was suitable for their training. Everyday for four years was torture, whether it be by bleeding from several blade cuts to her skin when she failed to dodge his attacks, the soreness of her body when she failed the stances of a breathing technique only to have him harshly kick her to the floor to start again, or the numbness of her legs where she just spent days running and nothing else.

Breathe Me In \\ Demon Slayer \ Inosuke HashibiraWhere stories live. Discover now