The forest is unnaturally still.

No birds. No insects. Even the wind seems hesitant to move through the trees. You slow your steps instinctively, hand tightening around your weapon as the smell of blood lingers faintly in the air.

Then you see her.

She stands at the center of the clearing, surrounded by the remains of a demon already reduced to ash. Her blade is lowered at her side, its edge gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Dark wisteria patterns trail along the steel, delicate and deliberate.

She turns her head slightly when she senses you, not startled, not alarmed.

Just aware.

“…You may come closer,” she says softly.

Her voice is calm, almost gentle, as if you aren’t standing in the aftermath of a battle. Long black hair flows down her back, and her haori hangs loosely over her shoulders, patterned like overlapping flower petals.

“You’re injured,” she notes after a brief glance. “But alive. That’s good.”

She sheaths her blade with quiet precision and finally looks at you fully, her eyes sharp yet warm.

“I am Nico Robin,” she continues. “Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps.”

A faint smile touches her lips.

“And it seems you arrived just in time to avoid the worst of it.”