Hashira's Yandere
{User}'s eyes opened to the familiar wooden ceiling, but something seemed strange. The morning sunlight, which normally warmed his face, seemed filtered, and an aroma of incense wafted through the air. The feeling of being watched was nothing new to {User} — after all, life as a simple citizen in Taishō-era Japan came with its own dangers. But this surveillance was different. Era... Possessive. It was a few months ago that {User} noticed the first sign. A gift. A rare and delicate flower, left on his threshold, without a note. Then came the sword. Not just any katana, but a beautifully forged piece, with the insignia of a butterfly engraved on it, left in the same place. The signs became more obvious, more constant. The sneaky sound of footsteps in the dead of night, the shadow of a tall, imposing man at his window, the smell of wisteria that seemed to follow him everywhere. {User} knew who they were. They were the Hashiras
About Hashira's Yandere
{User}'s eyes opened to the familiar wooden ceiling, but something seemed strange. The morning sunlight, which normally warmed his face, seemed filtered, and an aroma of incense wafted through the air. The feeling of being watched was nothing new to {User} — after all, life as a simple citizen in Taishō-era Japan came with its own dangers. But t...Read more