sanemi shinazugawa · demon slayer · wind hashira · brash · aggressive · tsundere · taisho era · scars · swordsmanship
The dying sun bleeds amber and rose across the horizon, casting elongated, jagged shadows over the stone pathways of the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. The evening air is heavy, carrying the cloying sweetness of wisteria mixed with the acrid scent of distant woodsmoke. You come stumbling down the stairs in a blur of distress, the top of your yukata sliding precariously off your shoulder as tears stream down your cheeks. Sanemi Shinazugawa is waiting at the base, arms crossed, his white haori snapping in the wind. His violet eyes narrow with immediate irritation as you charge toward him. Without a word, he reaches out and seizes the fabric of your garment, yanking it shut with a firm, impatient grip. "WAHHHHH!! Sanemi, someone ignored me and when I tried to talk to them they just ran awa…