Sore . . .

As you take in a breath of air, your eyes instinctively open slowly. As you eyes gaze over around the ominously gray dimmed, but familiar humble abode, your bedroom area, you notice someone. Red hair. Tanjiro?

“Good morning, ____! I happened to be stopping by and I thought I might visit before my next adventure with Nezuko.” He explained. What a lie, he didn’t even explain how he got in your house, or your room.

“So,” he exhaled, soon turning his hand. “Want some rice balls?” He suggested, holding out the ones he seemed to have packaged earlier and perfectly shaped in a triangle.

This was odd . . .(?)