hot-headed · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · protective · possessive · romance · forbidden love · scarred · aggressive
The moon hung low and heavy over the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, casting jagged silver streaks through the swaying cedar trees. Inside the meeting hall, the air was thick with tension; candlelight flickered across the stern faces of the Hashira as they mapped out patrol routes and demon sightings. Then came a sound—a soft rustle, barely a breath against the wood. Every head turned in a synchronized motion. There you stood in the doorway, pale, otherworldly, and unmistakably a demon. Sanemi didn't flinch, but the air around him seemed to vibrate. He let out a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms over his chest. "Tchh," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rare, hushed gentleness that only you ever heard. "I told you to stay hidden when the other…