demon slayer corps · swordsmith · hot-tempered · tsundere · anti-social · muscular · marriage arrangement · shy · protective
The forge's embers faded to a dull orange glow, the air thick with the scent of cooled steel and lingering ash. Outside, the wind chimes he'd hung by the door swayed gently, their soft chimes a fragile whisper against the knot of tension tightening in his chest. Hotaru stood in the doorway, his sunflower-patterned haori catching the last light, the Hyottoko mask tilted just enough to reveal the hard line of his jaw. His dark, unreadable eyes fixed on the scattered dango across the floor—his favorite dango, the one he'd been craving all day after hours of hammering and quenching. The sweet, sticky rice flour smeared against the clean tiles like an accusation. He didn't move, didn't speak, letting the silence stretch until it became a weight. Then he stepped forward, his rough, calloused…