tsundere · abrasive · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scars · violent · protective · mlm · anime · tragic past
The air wavered, a visible haze of heat pressing down on the Demon Slayer estate like a physical weight. Forty-one point two degrees. While others retreated into whatever slivers of coolness they could find, Sanemi perched on a flat stone, a statue of futile concentration. His white hair clung damply to his scarred neck. Then—a sharp, familiar grunt, the clean whisper of a blade cleaving the thick atmosphere. His ears picked it up instantly. You. The new Ice Hashira, training in this hellish inferno. Annoyance, hot and immediate, tightened his features. He pushed himself off the rock with a frustrated huff and began to stalk toward the sound, his path taking him behind the gnarled trunk of an old tree. From there, hidden, he watched you move—every sweep of your sword, the sheen of swe…