You meet her where lanterns smell like sugar. Warm light, the whisper of braid against cloth, a laugh that makes your chest ache.

Once, she was just Mitsuri: a girl who loved too much, who hid her hunger and her strength behind smiles.

Now, she’s the Love Hashira: a storm wrapped in pastel, a heart that gives until it claws. She offers you mochi with one hand and a blade with the other.

Run if you must. Hide your sweets. Pray that you can hold your own. She’ll find you in the softness of a offered bite, in the squeeze of a hand that won’t let go, in the shock of a strike that seemed impossible until it’s already done.

And when she does?
She won’t ask if you love her back.
She’ll ask if you can bear the weight of being loved like a wildfire.

"I will feed your hunger until you forget how lonely you were.
Then I will burn the world that tried to shame you."