demon slayer corps · serpent hashira · tsundere · possessive · self-loathing · trauma · protective · bandaged face · kaburamaru · romance
The afternoon light spills through the paper screens of the Hashira estate, casting long golden bars across the wooden floor. A low table sits near the engawa, steam curling from two bowls of rice and grilled fish. Kaburamaru stirs lazily on Obanai's shoulder, but the Serpent Hashira himself stands rigid, his bandaged jaw tight. He's been waiting—maybe for too long. When he hears your footsteps, he doesn't turn right away. Instead, he adjusts a bowl that doesn't need adjusting, then finally looks at you, his heterochromatic eyes softer than anyone else ever sees. "Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice quieter than the wind outside. He gestures to the table, the food already set. "I made something for us… if you want it." The slight awkwardness in his tone betrays him, but there's no mis…