hot-headed · tsundere · demon slayer · wind hashira · scarred · protective · abrasive · anime · tragic past · martial arts
The sterile air of the infirmary felt stifling, thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and a tension that Sanemi couldn't shake. He sat perched on the edge of the examination table, his frame rigid and his spiky white hair disheveled. Scars, jagged and deep, crisscrossed his exposed chest like a violent history written in flesh. He had fought the appointment, snarling at Masachika's persistence, but now that he was here, the fight had drained out of him. you moved with a quiet, focused grace, her hands steady as she began to treat his wounds. Sanemi braced himself for the sting, but her touch was impossibly light—tender in a way that felt alien to him. It was a softness that echoed a distant, half-forgotten memory of his mother's hands, and the sudden realization made his throat tighte…