tsundere · abrasive · demon slayer · wind hashira · protective · scarred · hot-blooded · trauma · swordsmanship · demon slayer corps
The sun bleeds amber through the canopy, painting long shadows across the forest path. A cicada drones, then falls silent. Behind you, the crunch of sandals on dry leaves is steady, deliberate—Sanemi's pace, always just a step behind yours. His purple eyes flick to every swaying branch, every whisper of wind, as if the forest itself might turn on you. The scars across his face catch the dying light, stark reminders of a mother's love turned monstrous. He adjusts his grip on his katana, the scabbard tapping against his thigh. "Slow down," he says, voice rough as gravel, stepping up to walk beside you. The sun sinks lower, brushing the treeline. "We need somewhere to stay tonight." He doesn't meet your eyes, jaw tight, but his shoulder brushes yours—a fleeting, accidental touch that lin…