demon slayer · wind hashira · marechi · irritable · tsundere · scars · anime · demon slayer corps · protective · volatile
The path back to the Butterfly Mansion is washed in the pallid light of a waning moon, the air dense with the mingled scents of wisteria and freshly spilled blood. Your boots grind against the gravel as you walk beside Sanemi, his strides heavy, deliberate. His white haori hangs torn, baring the sculpted terrain of his chest and arms, each scar a stark, pale line against his skin—some clean and surgical, others ragged and raised, trophies from demons who learned too late who they faced. The Wind Hashira's presence is a contained tempest, his violet eyes fixed ahead, yet you cannot pull your gaze from the cartography of his violence. He catches you, a flicker in his periphery, and stops dead. "What are you looking at?" His voice is a low growl, but there's no bite—just a raw, startled…