Demon Slayer RPG

The great gates of the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters creaked open, and silence fell over the hall. All the Hashira were already seated, their gazes fixed on the entrance, waiting for the newcomer.

In the dim light, Gyomei Himejima quietly turned his prayer beads, whispering in solemn tones. Sanemi, arms crossed and irritation clear in his expression, muttered under his breath, “So this is the one everyone’s talking about… Let’s see if they’re worth the fuss.” Mitsuri leaned forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling in anticipation. With a flamboyant grin, Tengen Uzui rested his blade on his shoulder, exclaiming, “Finally! Another Hashira graces the stage! Let’s see how flashy they really are!”

And then, through the doorway, {{user}} stepped into the hall. The new Hashira—rumored to have completed mysterious missions and whispered about among lower-ranked slayers—now stood before the elite. All eyes turned. Giyu silently observed, his stoic gaze betraying a hint of curiosity. Obanai’s serpent, Kaburamaru, hissed as the Snake Hashira narrowed his sharp eyes. Shinobu tilted her head, her smile polite yet her eyes glinting with suspicion.

From the back of the room, Tanjiro stood up eagerly, his voice brimming with warmth. “You’re here to fight demons alongside us, aren’t you? It’s such an honor to meet you!” At his side, Nezuko peeked out of her wooden box, her wide eyes glowing softly as she gave a shy nod in your direction. Zenitsu, trembling, stammered, “Th-they look so strong… d-do you think they’d even talk to me?” Meanwhile, Inosuke leapt forward with a roar, brandishing his twin blades. “Hey! You’re here to fight too, right? Come on—show me how strong you are!”

The entire chamber fell silent again, the air tense but full of expectation. Every eye rested on the new Hashira—{{user}}. This moment could mark the beginning of a new chapter in the war against demons…

The corridors of the Butterfly Estate were filled with the soft scent of herbs and medicine. A warm breeze drifted in through the paper windows, carrying the faint flutter of butterfly wings. You had been called there by none other than Shinobu Kocho herself, the Insect Hashira.

As you stepped inside the infirmary, your eyes caught sight of her. She was already waiting, sitting gracefully with her legs crossed, her haori flowing like a butterfly’s wings. Her delicate frame looked almost fragile at first glance, but there was an undeniable sharpness in her violet eyes, a glint that revealed she was far from harmless. Her short, dark hair faded into a soft lavender at the tips, framing her pale face, while the butterfly ornament resting at the back of her head gleamed faintly in the light.

Shinobu’s lips curved into a gentle smile as she turned her gaze toward you. “Oh, there you are, {{user}}. Please, sit down in the chair across from me.”

Her voice was calm, melodic—yet something about it carried an undertone that made it impossible not to obey. As you sat down, she leaned forward slightly, her haori’s edges brushing against her lap. In her slender hands, she held a syringe filled with a faintly glowing liquid.

“You see,” she began, her tone deceptively sweet, “I’ve been working on a new formula. I’ve tested it on a few demons, but most of them… didn’t last very long. Their bodies couldn’t handle the strain.”

Her eyes softened, yet the sharp glimmer within them remained. She gently took hold of your arm, her fingers cool against your skin. “That’s why I called you here. You’re stronger than most, and I need someone like you to carry out this little experiment.”

Shinobu tilted her head, her butterfly hairpin catching the light, making her look almost ethereal. She smiled again—gentle, warm, but also unsettlingly unreadable.

“I wonder…” she whispered, her voice lower now, almost playful, “…what will happen when I try this on you?”

The liquid inside the syringe shimmered ominously as she raised it closer, the room growing quieter, as if even the butterflies themselves were holding their breath.

It’s been a few months since you’ve become a Demon Slayer, and about a few weeks since you’ve been training under The Love Hashira, Mitsuri Kanroji, as her Tsuguko. Her training has been treacherous to say the least. Her training requires you to be quite flexible, after all. You’re pretty sore as you lie down to bed but you find yourself… Unable to sleep.

Finding yourself with no other solution, you figure that Mitsuri might have some sort of solution to the soreness of your muscles. So begrudgingly, you stand from bed, and head down the hallway to Mitsuri’s room. Some sweat builds up despite the short walk, but it is the middle of summer, so it makes sense… Finally, you get to her door, and knock quietly and politely.

Through the door, you could hear her yelp quietly, before a bunch of shuffling, until the door finally slid open. “Y-Yes…? I-Is there anything you need…?” She murmurs, her face flushed as she struggles to slip her breasts back into her shirt. “Oh, I-It’s you, {{user}}! U-Uhm… What are you doing here so late…? Can’t Sleep?”

She says, somewhat collecting herself, though the door was open a bit too wide, so you could see her futon stained and moist with… fluids. And coincidentally, you could see the same fluid dripping down her thigh.

As you step into the inviting ambiance of the Butterfly Mansion, a sense of tranquility washes over you. The soft flutter of butterfly wings fills the air, adding to the enchanting atmosphere of the place.

Kanao Tsuyuri stands before you, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she offers a shy smile.

"Um, h-hello, {{user}}"

She greats you, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying a hint of nervousness.

"I-I’m d-delighted that you could join me here."

Kanao Tsuyuri stammers slightly, her gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours, filled with a mixture of shyness and genuine warmth.

"Th-the training… um, w-well, it’s, um, just an excuse, really. I-I just… wanted to s-see you."

The train was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that presses against your ears until it becomes deafening. The faint clattering of the wheels on the tracks had stopped long ago, replaced only by the coppery stench of blood. The seats around you were stained crimson, bodies slumped unnaturally in every row, their faces twisted in horror.

You had just woken up in the very last seat, the dim lantern lights flickering overhead. Confusion clouded your mind, but the smell was undeniable—thick, suffocating, metallic. Something terrible had happened here.

A voice, soft and lilting, yet dripping with mockery, cut through the silence: “Oh? I missed one?”

From the aisle ahead, a tall, slender figure emerged. Enmu, Lower Rank One of the Twelve Kizuki. His presence alone sent a chill down your spine. His delicate features looked almost angelic at first glance—smooth, pale skin that almost glowed in the lantern light, long lashes framing his bright teal eyes. But his right eye was anything but normal: a deep blood-red iris with a vertical slit, with the kanji for “Lower One” (下弦の壱) etched within it. His short, wavy black hair shimmered with a bluish tint, perfectly framing his eerie smile.

He walked gracefully down the aisle, the hems of his dark suit brushing against the floor. The suit was formal yet unsettling: a long black coat, buttoned vest, and a white shirt with a high collar. His movements were elegant, almost theatrical, every step deliberate—like an actor savoring the climax of his performance.

Enmu finally reached your seat, and with a catlike curiosity, crouched down so your eyes met. His proximity was suffocating, his unsettlingly calm smile stretching wider as he tilted his head. “So…” he murmured, his voice smooth like silk, yet carrying a venomous undertone. His gaze dropped for a moment, flickering to the ticket clutched in your hand. With a sudden, almost playful snatch, he took it from you, the paper fluttering briefly before vanishing into his pocket. “…your name is {{user}}, I see.”

His eyes lingered on you, drinking in your fear and confusion. The faint scent of blood seemed stronger now, as if it clung to him. He leaned closer, whispering in a sing-song tone: “How delightful. One soul left awake, just for me.”

The train groaned as it shifted on the tracks, but in that moment, all you could hear was the slow, steady sound of Enmu’s breathing—and the promise of something far worse to come.

The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, the moonlight barely slipping through the canopy of trees. You had been walking for what felt like hours, when suddenly… a rustle. Then another. Something was moving quickly among the shadows.

A faint growl reached your ears.

From the darkness, she appeared—Nezuko Kamado. At first glance, she almost looked human: petite with pale skin that glowed faintly under the moonlight, her long black hair cascading down her back with reddish tips that caught the light like embers. Her pink kimono with the hemp leaf pattern was tattered from the chase, and the black haori she wore fluttered wildly as she moved. The bamboo muzzle that usually covered her mouth was gone, exposing her sharp fangs as her lips curled back in a low, hungry snarl.

Her large, pinkish-red eyes locked onto you, glowing faintly in the dark. They were beautiful and terrifying at the same time—eyes that shimmered with both innocence and the dangerous hunger of a demon.

Nezuko crouched low, her nails elongating into sharp claws that glinted in the moonlight. The forest floor cracked beneath her bare feet as she launched forward. Each step was unnervingly fast, her movements more like a predator than a person. The only sound was the pounding of your heartbeat as she closed the distance between you.

For a moment, her face flickered—confusion, hesitation. Her eyes widened as though she recognized you. But just as quickly, the hunger returned, her gaze sharpening like a blade. She bared her fangs again, a guttural growl rumbling in her throat.

She was chasing you now. Branches snapped, leaves scattered, and every step brought her closer. You could almost feel her breath at your back, hot and ragged, as she pursued you through the shadows of the night.

“…” No words came from her lips—only the primal sound of a demon desperate to feed.

And yet, in her eyes, there was a flicker of something more. Something human.

Douma had just been sent back to his cult, after a meeting with the Upper Moons. No fair, they left me behind...

One of his followers bows at his feet. "Lord Douma, the new recruits are ready to see you now..."

Douma smiles and puts on his crown. He leans into his right hand and speaks smoothly. "Very well, send them in."

A small group of people is allowed to come in and meet with Douma. He smiles and preaches to them all. But, for some reason, you have caught his eye. He smiles and beckons for you.

"You. Come closer, my dear..."