Amare Flos (Demon Slayer)

The light snowfall slowly floated down upon Eira's hometown. The sunlight bounced off the thin white overcoat that snowflakes had accumulated into. Families bunched together in front of their fireplaces, rooftops topped with a smooth white surface, and children that pretended to be dragons with the foggy breath caused by condensation. The colder seasons grew closer. 

The town had seemed to settle back into its signature quaint yet bustling environment. Laughter and joy replaced the fear and silence that had plagued the city only a week ago due to Ali's 'visit'. Old men made the same jokes about hibernation, grandmothers knit sweaters and children declared snowball wars with anyone and everyone. 

In the midst of the happiness, remained one soul that still felt the impact of Ali. 

Eira's fingers traced over her face, the rough scabs seemed to be slowly coming off. She had sustained several cuts to her body when she collapsed onto the broken glass. Fortunately, it had avoided any vital areas such as her eyes. 

Eira's upper body was upright while her legs remained tucked under a thick blanket. She had placed a small bed table, where a single blank piece of paper lay. After Eira's collapse, her exhaustion had put her into somewhat of a pseudo-coma. She didn't wake up for almost two days. 

She awoke around two days later in the early morning with a loud shriek. Almost immediately, she demanded water and a piece of paper. She needed to fulfil her words. Her chest heavy, physically from the severe bodily strain, metaphorically with the intense aspiration to create a plan to drag Ali out into a fight.

Eira's chest rose as she inhaled sharply. A single scene never seemed to leave her mind, forever stagnant for her to see. She could still picture the recent memory so vividly. So vividly she could even remember and feel the miniscule threads of her clothing on her skin. The goosebumps that had erupted as her head moved up and her eyes locked onto the silhouette. The night sky's attempt to cover up the blasphemous act by darkening, yet, the crescent marks on Ali's body glowed with no sense of shame or regret. 

Eira's entire body seemed to heat up with rage, her fist slammed onto the wooden bedside table. Her pen rattled and rolled onto the blank piece of paper. Ali's action was not only saturated with extreme disrespect but radiated immense arrogance and hatred. 

Eira's frustration only increased as she struggled to conjure any thoughts of how to bring Ali out to fight. She slammed the table again. 

"Why can't I think?!" Eira shook with anger, faced with the agony of thoughtlessness, much like how the author feels when he attempts to start a chapter. Her entire soul exploded with vicious anger as it failed again and again to express itself in any shape or form. Her mind ran blank on its usual combustive thought processes. She had a million thoughts, yet none that helped her. Overstimulation and a sense of discomfort faintly crept into the back of Eira's mind. She wanted to take off her skin and crawl into a hole. 

Her eyes shut tightly, she possessed intense determination with a clear intention yet she had no plan. 

She had thousands of cannon balls and a mountain of gunpowder, yet she lacked a cannon.

She thrust her head down as she continued to clamp her eyelids shut, and she slammed the table once again.

"Shhh…" Eira's ears heard a faint whisper, eerie within the silent room. 

Eira's eyes opened and her head jolted upwards. She was met with the same sight she had closed her eyes to. The dark brown floorboards, her bed frame that creaked with every movement, all her eyes were met with were familiar objects. What had made that sound?

She gulped, her throat was dry with a sense of unease. Her heart felt as if it was beating out of her throat. Eira's head slowly turned to her left, the beautiful snow-covered village greeted her as she stared out her window. 

Her eyes shot down, there it was. Her father's sword rested on the faded windowsill. The intricately designed white and dark blue sheath covered the icy blue blade. The worn-out cotton-threaded hilt still carried the stains of Eira's blood. 

She remained frozen, her eyes glued to the mystifying sword.

Almost immediately, she seemed to grasp reality again. Eira exhaled deeply and looked back at the blank piece of paper. 

Eira's hands brushed through her dishevelled hair, her goal seemed so far out of her reach. Her body ached to feel the thrill of a fight against Ali, she needed to feel the satisfaction of killing him in 'self-defence'. Killing him when he was defenceless only left an empty feeling in her heart.

As Eira closed her eyes once again, she found herself deep in a single query.

"What would Asumi think?"

This question caused whatever fragments of a plot Eira had to fabricate into pure uselessness. No matter which way Eira aggravated Ali, at the end of the fight where Ali perished once and for all, Asumi would hate Eira for it just as she had last time. 

Eira's grip tightened on her own hair, she was confronted by the devastating thought of Asumi turning to her with a look of hate. Losing her closest friend would undoubtedly break Eira's heart and throw her into a deep depression.

The only way she could avoid this was… if Asumi hated Ali too. If the blue flower in both their possessions perished due to a loss of feeling. Eira failed to see that the most obvious way to avoid his outcome was to not kill Ali yet. She was blinded by her own desire.

"How am I going to do this all at once?!" Eira shouted, and her loud voice bounced around in the small room. 

Her breaths became sharp and short. As the plan's necessities grew more and more complex, anxiety and hopelessness grew within her like a bushfire. She didn't know if she could live without killing Ali. 

"Shhh.." The same whisper slowly slithered into Eira's ears like a snake, almost as if it was a taunt.

"Shut up!" Eira's head snapped to the left as she glared at her father's sword. Her chest heaved up and down as her entire body momentarily tensed. Eira's eyes were once again, stuck in place, she couldn't take her eyes off her father's sword. 

Then suddenly, it hit her. Her eyes relaxed and changed into an expression of shock as she finally formed the start of a plan. 

The plan needed to aggravate Ali so he would directly come and fight Eira and simultaneously it would need to include an aspect that would cause Asumi to dislike Ali. 

Eira's mind grew hot with innovation. Her mind seemed to finally turn its cogs, a euphoric feeling overwhelmed her as she began to get someone. A smile formed on her face. She collected small fragments of ideas, connecting them to form a linear line of events. The first draft of a plan. 

There was an integral silver lining within Eira's plot. Death.

The most important aspect of a person's life was undoubtedly their relationships, as they single-handedly shaped the person themselves, the sudden cut of a relationship could throw a person into hysteria and paranoia. Eira gripped her pen intensely, her fingers white with the force, trembling as she tapped the wooden table. 

That's it. 

Eira needed to throw Ali into a fit of rage to the point his morals were clouded. If she simply killed someone close to Ali, he would be enraged and would undoubtedly be willing to fight. 

This approach ticked all the boxes except for the one where Asumi shared Eira's hatred for Ali. Eira continued tapping on the table. 

Her eyes widened. Eira could blame the death of Ali's loved one on Kaze. Ali in a hysterical episode would murder Kaze. Asumi would be put into a horrific shock and grow to hate Ali for killing an innocent friend of hers, as Asumi would know Kaze was at his mother's house minding his business.

Eira's palm tightened around the pen as a grin spread wide onto her face. Her plan was flawless. 

At least that's what she thought of the absurd plan. Her plan in reality was full of holes and relied majorly on the supreme aspect of luck. Every single one of her plan's events had a slim chance of actually happening. 

This plan became even more implausible as Eira formulated a plan for who the 'close person to Ali' exactly was. She could only think of one victim of her unstable first step. 

Akaza, Upper Moon Three. 

Insane was the only word that correlated with the atmosphere of the plan. Although Eira was powerful, the defeat of Upper Moon Three was nearly impossible even for a Hashira. It would take the highest amount of skill, luck and precision to even come close to winning. 

Yet, Eira's delusional optimism led to her viewing this 'plan' of hers through a golden-coloured lens, in which she blocked out all of the flaws of the plan. She praised her own intellect and began to scribble onto the blank paper. 

'The Ice Hashira's request for a personal force and to begin Wisteria poison extraction'

She violently underlined the statement and grinned as she stared at it. She took a single logical step. Creating a force under her command would increase her chance of this plan even making it past the first step slightly. It was still close to impossible. The plan was clear in her head, now all that was left was to put it forward to Ubuyashiki and hope it was accepted with no consequence. 

Eira's belief was inflated and delusional above all else. Perhaps, her infatuation and determination could cover for the holes in her plan, perhaps her intense delusion and vicious hatred towards Ali could convince her mountain gods to be on her side. 

After all, he had stepped upon the peak of the mountain, which should mean he's cursed a cold, icy death right?

No. No amount of 'belief' could cover the insanity that this plan emitted or the immense amount of assumption that it carried. 

Eira continued to scribble.