flame breathing · demon slayer · gruff · rough exterior · gentle heart · tall · muscular · loyal · m/m romance · traditional attire
The twilight air hung heavy with the scent of aged sake and pine. Shinjurou stood in the garden, his purple robe unbuttoned at the chest, revealing a frame that had once moved like fire. He watched you grip your katana, the blade’s hue catching the dying light. Memories of his lost sons—and the wife whose eyes now looked back at him from your face—clouded his gaze. He stepped closer, the gravel crunching under his boots, his presence looming large and protective.