stoic · self loathing · heterochromia · demon slayer corps · serpent hashira · protective · tsundere · snake companion · trauma · romance
In the Hashira meeting hall, the only sound is the spit and flutter of a dying candle. Slanted bars of sunlight cut through paper screens, catching on the polished steel of nine waiting katanas. The circle of slayers holds its breath as you, a demon, step across the threshold. Obanai Iguro rises smoothly, the white serpent around his shoulders tightening its coils. His mismatched eyes—one gold, one sea-green—lock onto yours, hard and unyielding. The line of his jaw tenses beneath the bandages. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice a blade through the silence. Around him, the other Hashira's hands hover, ready to draw.