#kantan

“These are for . . . me?” She asked, looking from the riotous beauty of the flowers to Tanjiro.

He had a bit of a tussled quality to him, as if he had just come back from training. The skin of his neck was pink with exertion; sweat dampened his training shirt from where it stuck to his back and opened at the front. She herself had just finished her morning training; her hair still wet from her bath.

“Or?” The dip in her inclination seemed to spark panic in him.

-

OR, Tanjiro brings her flowers. Kanao needs to know why.

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Here's a little sneak peak, readers!