𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒? ; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐤𝐧𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐰𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

tw! gory details

┏━━━━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━━━━┓

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖜𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝕿𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖍

┗━━━━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━━━━┛

             𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 vibrante and full of life, but there is more than meets the eye. There are few of those who experience the unbearable pain that lurk in the shadows where evil lies. Some shadows are casted by the actions of humanity, whilst the rest are made to hide the unexplainable.

Sakonji Urokodaki, the Water Hashira, was sent on a mission to a small village behind Mount Kumotori. A message had been sent an hour before explaining how there were 'men' that suddenly began to attack their wives and children. They had sent out a batch of kanoto, but they had been wiped out within seconds of arrival. This led to the decision of sending out a hashira.

The hashira let out a sigh as he neard the village. There was a very small chance that anyone would have survived at this point. He quickened his pace, the grip on his nichirin sword tightening at the thought of his last mission as a hashira ending as a failure.

The sight before made his stomach drop. No one gets used to seeing such a sight, no matter what one does. It plagues the mind and leaves behind guilt. The thought that if they would have been faster, then maybe someone would live. Maybe, people wouldn't have to live the rest of their life alone, the image of the one they lost stuck in their nightmares.

Death was inevitable. There was no escape and there never will be. Even for the Demon Lord himself.

And maybe that was a good thing.

The heavy stench of blood in the air made his eyes water. Half eaten corpses lay on the abandoned paths, some of its contents oozing out. The cool breeze blew by, creating small squeaks as it collided into broken objects. It was as if death had taken a stroll through the small town.

Every step Urokodaki took, the unsettling feeling in his stomach grew. He had made a note on the quietness and stillness of the air.

A loud creak had caught his attention. Carefully and slowly unsheathing his sword, the hashira made his way towards the sound. It led him to an awfully wrecked house. The door was hanging of it's hinges and there were dried up puddles of blood on the entry path. Making his way quietly, the hashira peaked his head inside.

The place was a wreck. Upturned furniture, broken vases and torn up paintings. The stench of death overpowered Urokodaki's sense of smell. The possibility of survivors were thinning.

Urokodaki silently prayed. He was loosing hope.

He took a step back and was ready to leave when he heard it. A whimper.

It shook him out of whatever trance he was in.

He had hope.

Hope.

The hashira turned towards the sound. A little figure lay curled up behind a leaning shelf. A child.

In that moment, Urokodaki felt as if he weren't in control of his own body. He hadn't felt himself walk over to the figure. He hadn't  heard the words that came out from his mouth. He hadn't  heard how he comforted the small child. He saw it all, but felt nothing.

But he knew. The child was a fragment of hope. The hope that he almost lost.

But what would happen if everybody had hope? What would happen if everybody wanted Hope?

Only she knew, she knew very well what it was like.

And she was about to be shown hell and back.