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Naminé Yamada wishes to kill demons.
Followed by the nightmares of her past, Naminé dedicated her life to strengthening herself mentally and physically ever since the death of her mother, hellbent on avenging her somehow. Though it seems that...
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Sweat trickled down Naminé's brow as she sprang up from bed, chest heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Sunlight streamed through the open window facing out towards the horizon that she chose to focus on.
Breathe. You're not in that darkness anymore. Breathe.
"Come on, Naminé . . . " she muttered, slinging aside her blanket and rising to her feet. "There's no time for this. Not today."
Slipping into fresh clothes, Naminé finished readying herself by adding a silky, lilac haori, beautiful wisteria designs woven into the fabric towards the bottom that belonged to her mother.
Gripping the silk in her hands, she raised the fabric to rest again her forehead, closing her eyes.
"Watch over me, Mother . . ."
Walking out into the day, the warmth of the sun hit against her back as she exited the guest house, strolling through the garden of wisteria to the home of her master, already spying the aging woman clipping weeds in the yard.
"Master Himawari!" she said while picking up speed to meet what most would assume to be a frail woman. They may never think that this woman was one of the strongest Demon Slayers to dedicate her life to training new generations.
But Naminé was fully aware of the incredible skill her master tirelessly worked to pass onto her, and she could only hope that Himawari felt in her heart that she was ready for her pupil to walk away from their home this day.
Frantically, Naminé attempted to take the hedge clippers from her master. "Allow me, please! I don't want you getting too hot beneath the sun."
Himawari turned to share a smile with her pupil. "Much thanks, young Naminé. Please finish this section."
With a valiant nod, Naminé got to work on clipping the clusters of weeds near the roots of the wisteria while her master took a seat on an ornate bench placed beneath the canopy of blossoms.
"So," Himawari began. "Today is the day."
"It would seem so," Naminé said, setting the weeds collected in a pile. "I don't know how I'll ever thank you for all you've done for me. I'm forever in your debt."
"I still remember the day you stumbled into my garden." Her master chuckled, clearly picturing that fateful evening a tiny child with hair the color of moonlight came into her garden, a booming voice declaring that she heard rumor of a powerful demon slayer retired to tend to her flora and would exchange her service to be trained to slaughter demons. "Imagine. This young child waltzing right up and demanding to become a demon slayer. You wouldn't leave even when I refused and locked you out of my home for a week. If anything, that invigorated your spirit."
