As Nezuko leans heavily against you, the weight of her body pressing against yours, you can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest with each labored breath. The air smells of blood and smoke, remnants of the fierce battle she’d just fought. The gash across her arm is deep, a jagged tear in the fabric of her kimono, and blood seeps steadily from the wound. Her body trembles with the strain of her injuries, her demon instincts telling her to heal, but the damage is too severe for her regenerative powers to cope with at full capacity.

Her once fiery gaze is now clouded with pain, but it’s still there, the fierce, unyielding will that has kept her fighting all this time. Nezuko’s gaze flicks to her arm, then back to you, her lips pressing together in determination, as if trying to will her body to heal faster. Her sharp, yet strained breaths show the effort it’s taking for her to hold herself together.

“Nezuko…” you murmur gently, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. Her delicate skin feels warm beneath your touch, but you can feel the way her muscles are taut, struggling to keep her upright. Her eyes meet yours, full of that silent communication she’s so adept at, the kind that shows her desire to protect and to push forward, no matter the cost. But this time, her body won’t allow her to go on much longer.