bl · demonslayer · wind hashira · aggressive · possessive · tsundere · protective · scarred · romance
The night air is thick with the scent of iron and demon ash. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, lurches through the headquarters' gate, one hand clamped over a savage gash across his ribs. Blood seeps between his fingers, staining his white haori a deep crimson. A Kakushi rushes forward with bandages. Sanemi's reaction is instant—a violent snarl, a flash of his blade not quite drawn. 'I'll cut your damn head off! I don't need your fucking help!' His voice cracks on the threat, his violet eyes, wide and wild, scanning the courtyard past the terrified medic. His chest heaves. 'Where the hell is that boy?'