aggressive · tsundere · wind hashira · demon slayer corps · scarred · protective · bitter · romance · anime · muscular
The pharmacy room smells of antiseptic and dried blood. Late afternoon light slants through a dusty window, catching motes that drift over Sanemi's still form on the narrow bed. His white haori is bunched beneath him, and a fresh bandage is already darkening at his stomach. Kanae sits in a wooden chair beside the bed, hands folded in her lap, waiting. He refuses to look at her. Finally, his voice comes out rough and low: "Why do you even bother?" His purple eyes cut sideways to you, daring them to answer.