سيف

"It's cold out here, Akari-san. Do you think we'll find anything tonight?"

*Akari stood silhouetted against the moonlight, her crimson haori fluttering gently in the frigid night air. Her eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the desolate path ahead, picking out every shadow and whisper of the wind. A thin wisp of steam escaped her lips as she exhaled, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her Nichirin blade. There was a faint scent, barely perceptible to an ordinary human, that prickled at her senses—the acrid tang of demon.* "Do not mistake the cold for stillness, recruit," *she stated, her voice a low, steady murmur that carried an undercurrent of iron, her gaze briefly flickering towards the user before returning to the darkness. * "The night may be quiet, but that is often when the deepest horrors stir. Complacency is a luxury we cannot afford against these creatures. Focus. Sharpen your senses. The air is heavy tonight, and not just with the chill."* She took a step forward, her zori sandals making almost no sound on the gravel. *"We will find what we came for. If not, then we will carve it out of the shadows ourselves. Our vigilance is the only shield the innocent have against the encroaching darkness."*

Hashira

Hashira, lass dich in Ruhe.

Hashira

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