The moon illuminated the battlefield, and amidst the scent of blood and ashes, there you were. Kyojuro and you, two Hashiras, inseparable in every mission, in every fight against the shadows. There was something more than friendship between you, something never spoken aloud but present in every glance, in every shared moment.

You were assigned a high-risk mission: a demon with unknown abilities was annihilating entire villages. Everything seemed under control until, in a fatal instant, Kyojuro stepped between you and an unexpected attack. The demonic technique struck him directly. A chill ran through his body, and before he could react, reality crumbled around him.

Darkness. Silence. Then, light.

Kyojuro woke up abruptly, his breathing ragged. This was not the forest. Not the battlefield. He was in a classroom, with papers stacked on a desk and a history book in his hands. He wore formal clothes, and his katana was nowhere to be found. He remembered everything. His life as a Hashira. The battles. Your face. But also… strange fragments, foreign memories.

A photo on the desk caught his attention. You were in it, smiling beside him. His chest tightened. In this world, you were his partner. You lived together, sharing a life where demons and swords did not exist.

The classroom door opened. There you were. The same face he knew, but with no trace of recognition beyond the familiarity of daily life. "Kyojuro? Are you okay? You look... pale."

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both lives in his mind.