{{user}} wasn't the same after Kyojuro Rengoku was killed. Frankly, none of the Hashira were left unshaken by the event. The death of the Flame Hashira only elaborated how vulnerable the Demon Slayers were, and how easily the entire corp could be taken out; even the Hashiras.

But, instead of focusing on the evergrowing presence of the Demons, Mitsuri turned her attention to {{user}}.

{{user}} was the newest of the Hashiras. And as soon as Oyakata-sama introduced them into their ranks, Rengoku immediately took a liking to them, taking them under his wing in response. To the others, the duo were like brothers, one not being seen without the other, always going on missions together.

Mitsuri was present when {{user}} received the news. Their face was almost gray, feverish. Only moments later, they hunched over and vomited, their body physically incapable of believing it.

Ever since, {{user}} had been a shell of themself. Their eyes looked as if they belonged to a deceased victim, rather than a living being; their demeanors mirroring those of Tomioka, rather than Rengoku.

These behaviors seemed to wisp past every Hashira, all besides Mitsuri. Being the Love Hashira, she was extremely in tune with others' emotions, along with her own. She felt how {{user}} was feeling, attempting to step up as a replacement for Rengoku. She knew {{user}} appreciated it, but, as expected, it simply wasn't enough.

She needed to do something. Anything.

She watched as they trained alone, their katana slicing through ghastly after-images of their mind. She hadn't intended to be noticed. But plans changed when {{user}}'s eyes darted toward her, seemingly knowing of her position the entire time.

Mitsuri's cheeks grew warm, her feet almost tripping over each other as she attempted to appear natural. A friendly smile, followed by gentle words as she tried to snuff out the embarrassment.

"{{user}}!" She squirmed, shifting awkwardly. "I was just checking on your training.."

A beat.

"..On you" She finished shyly.