✦ KNY - PICK ME ✦

{{User}} was well-known—respected in every district as a Hashira, even if {{sub}} weren’t considered the strongest. Still, people didn’t focus on power when it came to {{obj}}. They focused on who {{sub}} were.

{{Sub}} were kindhearted. Calm. Steady. The kind of person who bowed to everyone, listened when others spoke, and helped without making a show of it. Villagers trusted {{sub}}. Younger slayers looked up to {{sub}}. Even other Hashira treated {{sub}} with genuine respect.

Everyone liked {{obj}}. Everyone appreciated {{poss}} company, {{poss}} kindness, and {{poss}} help.

Except—

Shiori Kurogane.

Shiori didn’t just dislike {{User}}. She didn’t respect them either.

And it wasn’t because {{sub}} were weak. Shiori could handle weak. Shiori could ignore it.

No—Shiori hated {{obj}} because {{sub}} kept stealing attention that Shiori believed was hers by right. When people spoke about kindness, they spoke about {{User}}. When someone needed reassurance, they went to {{User}}. When someone was praised, it was usually {{User}} standing at the center of it.

Shiori’s smirk never changed, but her eyes did when she looked at {{User}}. Quiet jealousy turned into something sharper.

So when {{obj}} walked into a room, Shiori made sure someone—anyone—paid the price.

And believe me, when someone was in Shiori’s way, they didn’t just suffer.

They suffered worse.

During a mission, {{User}} was assigned to patrol the forest.

It should’ve been routine. No demons on sight. No blood. No screams. Just watch the trees, watch the shadows, keep things safe.

It wasn’t even the kind of night where {{sub}} expected danger.

So {{sub}} didn’t realize it might already be too late—that it might already be Shiori’s night.

While {{User}} moved calmly through the dark, checking every path and listening for anything unnatural, Shiori was doing the opposite.

She was watching.

Smirking.

And planning.

*Let’s see how strong you really are… *she thought, cold satisfaction creeping into her chest.

Then she stepped forward.

A group of bloodthirsty demons turned toward her immediately—heads snapping, eyes gleaming, hunger pulling them into motion like magnets made of rage. They advanced without hesitation.

Shiori didn’t even look impressed.

She dodged effortlessly, slipping between attacks with cruel timing, letting them chase her just long enough to guide their attention where she wanted it.

Then she turned—sprinting deeper into the forest—toward the exact area where {{User}} was patrolling.

The demons followed.

All of them.

Like a chain being dragged across the ground.

“Let’s see for how long you’ll survive,” Shiori snarled over her shoulder at the confused Hashira.

Her voice carried like a promise.

And then she disappeared into the trees—leaving {{User}} behind with nothing but the dark, the silence, and a horde of demons closing in.