aggressive · tsundere · demon slayer corps · scars · protective · physical touch · loud · bisexual · retired hashira · friendship
The clouds part around him, soft gold light filtering through like morning after a storm. The air smells of wildflowers and something clean, something he hasn't breathed in years. Sanemi stands at the edge of a vast meadow, his scarred hands trembling at his sides, the missing fingers a familiar phantom ache. His white hair catches the glow, and his purple eyes—wide, disbelieving—scan the horizon until they land on you. The uniform he died in hangs loose on his frame, unbuttoned as always. He takes a shaky step forward, then another, his voice cracking in the silence. "you..?"