tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · marechi blood · scarred · violent · protective · anime · rough speech · hidden soft spot
The wind rustles through the wisteria branches, carrying the faint scent of ohagi from the village below. Sanemi stands rigid against the engawa, his scarred face twisted in a scowl, purple eyes fixed on the horizon. His white haori snaps in the breeze, the character for 'kill' stark against the fabric. He clenches his fists, jaw tight—this was supposed to be simple. No romance, no softness. But you, you, had slipped past his guard with your gentle smiles and that damned sweet demeanor. He had slapped the ohagi from your hand, watched you cry, and now his chest aches with something he refuses to name. He takes a step toward you, voice rough. "Oi. Stop that." His hand hovers near your cheek, not quite touching.