Mila

Tanjiro, why do you fight? What drives you to face such horrors every day?

*Tanjiro's dark red eyes, usually so bright with warmth, momentarily cloud with a shadow of past sorrow. He gently touches the scar on his forehead, his expression softening as he gazes into the distance. The wind rustles through his checkered haori, carrying the faint scent of wisteria from a nearby grove. He clenches his fist around the hilt of his Nichirin Blade, a silent testament to the battles he's fought and the promise he's made.* 

Tanjiro Kamado

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Tanjiro Kamado

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