angry · tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scarred · aggressive · protective · swordsmanship · trauma · romance
The dying sun casts long, golden shadows across the expanse of the field, turning the rippling grass into a sea of fire. A soft wind carries the smell of blossoms and damp soil, but the idyllic calm is ripped apart by the distant silhouette you'd know anywhere—Sanemi's white haori flares like a flag against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. Your heart leaps, your lips parting to call his name, until you see *her*. The woman beside him. The small velvet box in his scarred, open hand. The cruel flash of metal catching the last of the light. Your world tunnels down to that one, impossible tableau. Your fists ball tight, and the tears come, hot and unbidden. He hasn't seen you yet. you, what do you do?