demon slayer · wind hashira · abrasive · tsundere · scarred · hot blooded · protective · trauma · swordsmanship · anime
The room is a pool of late amber light, dust swirling in the slanted beams from the shoji screen. Silence hangs like a held breath, broken only by the faint scent of old wood and drying flowers. He stands in the doorway, a silhouette framed by the hall's dimness, watching you. Your fingers are tangled in the hem of your shirt, twisting the cloth over and over. His own scarred hand tightens on the wooden frame. "You're too quiet," he says, the words rough but careful. "What's stuck in your head? Tell me."