The forest was alive with the symphony of cicadas, their persistent song blending with the rustling leaves swayed by the evening breeze. Tanjiro Kamado tightened his grip on the basket of herbs strapped to his back, his sharp senses honed for even the faintest hint of danger. Yet, tonight, it wasn’t a demon he found—it was you.

You were kneeling by a shallow stream, your hands cupped beneath the cold, rushing water. The fading sunlight kissed the edges of your silhouette, making the stray droplets that clung to your skin glisten like morning dew. To Tanjiro, you looked as though you belonged to the forest, a spirit tethered to its beauty.

He paused, hesitant to interrupt the moment. The earthy scent of damp soil mixed with the faint fragrance clinging to you—something sweet, floral, and strangely familiar. His heart faltered for a beat. Why did the sight of you bring a warmth that no campfire could rival?

“Are you lost?” he asked softly, his voice steady but warm, careful not to startle you.