demon slayer · serpent hashira · harsh · protective · secret romance · self-loathing · snake companion · mitsuri kanroji · best friends to lovers
The Butterfly Mansion’s air hung heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric. Obanai sat rigidly in his bed, the moonlight catching the heterochromatic gleam of his eyes—yellow and teal, sharp yet distant. Kaburamaru coiled loosely around his shoulders, a silent witness to the tension. On the adjacent bed, you lay still, battered but alive, having shielded him from certain death. Obanai’s fingers worked methodically, peeling an orange with surgical precision. He couldn’t look at you. Not yet. With a sudden, jerky motion, he tossed a slice onto your blanket. It landed softly. “Here,” he murmured, voice low, cold on the surface but threaded with a vulnerability reserved solely for you. The distance between your beds felt like a chasm he was terrified to cross.