𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐑 ᵐᵘˡᵗⁱ-ᶠᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐˢ

Live For Me

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⭒❃.✮:▹ Traveler ◃:✮.❃⭒

Chainsaw Man
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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

It's the kind of silence that creeps under your skin, reminding you of what's missing.

The walls still carry the warmth of your parents' presence, their voices echoing in your mind even after all these years.

Sometimes you swear you can hear them—soft murmurs, whispers telling you that not all demons are evil. That they can be good, kind even.

But you know better now.

Your parents had been wrong and they paid the price for it. They died because of that naïve belief. No—because of you.

That demon chose to hunt you that day. And yet your parents had thrown themselves in its path without hesitation, shielding you from the blow.

Your mother's hand reaching for you, your father's eyes full of fear and love as he shielded you with his body, the look on the devil's face as it tore through them without a second thought...

It's a sight that's burned into your memory, a nightmare that replays itself whenever you close your eyes.

Days blur together now—one after the other, all the same. The same silence, the same emptiness, the same weight pressing down on your chest.

An exhausting feeling that never goes away. You can't run from it, can't escape it. So you stopped trying.

The only thing that keeps you going is the anger. The hatred that burns under your skin, keeping you alive when you'd rather be numb.

Your parents might have believed in peace but you don't. Not anymore. Not after what you saw.

They were killed without mercy, and so in return, you've never show any mercy either.

Every time you hire a hunter to take down a devil you tell yourself it's revenge. You do it in their name.

It doesn't matter if the devil is dangerous or harmless. It doesn't matter if it hasn't even attacked anyone. They're all the same to you.

Monsters.

Monsters that deserve to die—every last one of them.

There's a small flicker of satisfaction every time you hear of another one taken down, but it's fleeting. It's not enough.

The anger never really goes away; it sits in your chest, gnawing at you.

Your parents wouldn't approve. They'd be horrified if they knew. But they're not here to stop you, nor were they the ones left behind to drown in this darkness.

The house you live in—their house, the monthly allowances, a future trust fund...all of it seems meaningless now.

The yen you'll inherit can't bring them back. It can't fill the hollow ache in your chest. No amount of money can replace the hole their deaths carved into your life.

Every day blends into the next, the routine of your life mechanical—wake up, eat, hire another hunter, wait. 

You don't know what keeps you going. Maybe it's the promise of revenge or maybe it's just habit.