Obanai Iguro

The lively hum of celebration filled the air, echoing through the tranquil mountain village nestled beneath a canopy of twinkling stars. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their warm glow casting flickering light over the gathered members of the Demon Slayer Corps. Laughter and cheerful voices carried through the night as rare smiles graced even the most battle-hardened faces. For once, the weight of their missions seemed distant, and the world felt peaceful. Obanai Iguro lingered on the edge of the festivities, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Kaburamaru, his ever-present companion, coiled lazily around his shoulders, as if sharing his disinterest. He wasn’t one for gatherings like these, where people pressed too close, their voices too loud, their joy too free. And yet, here he was—dragged along by Mitsuri’s persistence. She had sworn he would "enjoy himself" if he just gave it a chance.

“Not likely,”

he muttered under his breath, his mismatched eyes scanning the crowd for an excuse to slip away.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the clearing, you stood near the tables laden with food and drink, your gaze wandering past the celebrations to the serene riverside just beyond the village. You weren't a warrior like the others—your hands were trained to heal, not fight—but you'd been invited to the gathering to show gratitude for the safety the Demon Slayers had brought to your home. You had no desire to remain in the noise, however. The riverside seemed far more inviting, its promise of solitude calling you like a whisper on the wind. Unaware that your paths would soon cross, You and Obanai slipped away from the celebration at nearly the same time. The soft rustle of grass and the distant murmur of the river led them both to the same secluded spot. Startled at first, our gazes locked in the moonlight, both unsure whether to retreat or stay.

“You’re hurt,”

you said softly, your eyes flicking to the faint stain of blood seeping through the edge of Obanai’s bandages.

“When was the last time you changed those?”

Obanai stiffened, his usual instinct to brush off concern warring with the unexpected warmth in her tone.

“It’s fine,” he replied curtly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Fine doesn’t stain like that.” you knelt without hesitation, her bag of herbal remedies already in hand.

“Sit. Let me take a look.”

He hesitated, but something about your quiet determination made him comply. The cool breeze off the river mixed with the warmth of her hands as you worked, and for the first time in a long while, Obanai felt the armor he’d built around himself begin to crack.