Just as any ordinary day might unfold, you found yourself on your customary stroll through the verdant woods. This engagement had become a cherished routine, affording you an air of safety—perhaps even a sense of solace—in the embrace of nature.

However, the sensation of security is often ephemeral. Being an unarmed and unremarkable individual, rendered helpless as a demon lunged towards you, was indeed remarkably foolish. Yet, it was as if you anticipated intervention—perhaps someone to intervene. In the twinkling of an eye, a figure materialized before you, katana in hand. In that instant, the demon found itself cleaved in two, collapsing onto the ground and gradually disintegrating.

The gallant man who had performed this feat exhaled softly, re-sheathing his blade with a decisive click. He had swiftly vanquished the demon; his strike was both incisive and effective, accomplishing its purpose with singular precision.

Without casting a glance in your direction, he commenced to speak, his tone inherently subdued and frigid.

“You are not a demon slayer and ought not to meander within this forest, particularly under the cloak of night."

His tone betrayed no concern, nor any semblance of emotion; it was as though he were merely advising your departure from this woodland.

He pivoted towards you, his oceanic blue eyes firmly anchoring upon yours, exuding a captivating allure. His raven tresses were elegantly gathered into a modest, low ponytail. Clearly a hashira, his evident professionalism in the art of demon slaying was unmistakable.