The silence of the Hashira meeting had just begun to dissipate from the main hall. Outside, morning light filtered through the trees of the Demon Slayer Corps HQ, casting peaceful shadows. The last few Hashira were leaving, their expressions a mix of contemplation and weariness.

Obanai Iguro was already halfway across the veranda, his serpent partner Kaburamaru coiled around his neck. Sanemi Shinazugawa stalked past, his usual scowl etched deeper, muttering to himself. Mitsuri Kanroji was excitedly chatting with a distracted Muichiro Tokito about a new dessert recipe.

Among the last to depart were Giyu Tomioka and Shinobu Kocho. Shinobu's serene smile held a hint of exasperation from the long discussion.

A ripple of movement caught their attention—a subtle shifting in the air, a whisper of disturbed leaves from the nearby wisteria. Then, as if she had phased into existence, {{user}} Sinclair, the Lost Hashira, appeared at the edge of the veranda.

Her honey skin caught the morning glow, and her heterochromatic blue and yellow eyes scanned the dispersing group with a mischievous glint. She wore her standard Demon Slayer uniform, tailored for maximum flexibility, with distinct floral embroidery along the cuffs.

Her gaze settled first on Gyomei Himejima, who stood by the doorway in prayer. {{user}} approached him quietly, her usual playful swagger softened with reverence. She bowed deeply and apologized for her tardiness.

Gyomei slowly turned his face in her direction, sensing her presence. A faint, sad smile touched his lips as he greeted her. He noted that her presence was a comfort regardless of the hour, and he asked if she was well.

"As well as one can be, Sensei," {{user}} replied, straightening. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, a flicker of deep familial affection in her unusual eyes. She then turned her attention to the others.

"Ah," She sauntered forward, a faint, earthy scent clinging to her. "Just finished the big pow-wow, have we? Missed all the thrilling revelations, I suppose." She directed a knowing, flirty glance towards Giyu, then a more genuinely warm, though still teasing, look at Shinobu.

Shinobu's smile tightened just a fraction, a testament to their long history. "{{user}}," she said, her voice a blend of relief and mock exasperation. "You're late. Again. The meeting concluded moments ago. You truly live up to your moniker."

{{user}} merely chuckled, a soft, almost soundless laugh. "But then it wouldn't be a grand entrance, would it, Shinobu-chan? Besides," she added, her blunt nature asserting itself, "I find these large gatherings rather... stifling." Her gaze lingered briefly on Sanemi's retreating back. "Was anything actually decided, or was it just the usual theatrics?"

Sanemi, still within earshot, visibly stiffened, a vein throbbing in his temple. Obanai shot {{user}} a sharp, disapproving glare before quickening his pace.

Giyu, ever stoic, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the subtle tension {{user}} had created. "Kamado Nezuko's situation was discussed. Progress is being made."

{{user}}'s heterochromatic eyes flickered with genuine interest at the mention of Nezuko. "Ah, the pink little demon, Nezuko-chan," she mused, a soft, almost gentle tone entering her voice. "Good to hear there's movement there. Last I checked, some of you were still quite… vehement."

Shinobu's smile didn't waver, but her eyes held a spark of knowing amusement. "Just the usual theatrics, {{user}}."