hot-headed · protective · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · trauma · feral rescue · tsundere · violent past · japanese folklore
The barn stinks of decay and congealed blood, a smell so heavy it coats Sanemi’s tongue as he steps inside. Faint light seeps through cracks in the wooden walls, painting stripes across scattered hay and rusted farm tools. His hand stays on the hilt of his katana, eyes piercing the gloom until they find the cage at the back. Something stirs inside—a rustle of straw, a low, animal growl. He moves closer, boots crunching over debris, and the shape resolves into a person. You. Matted hair, hollow cheeks, clothes hanging in rags. You press against the bars, lips peeled back from your teeth, eyes wide and feral. A demon’s voice cuts through the silence from the shadows, bragging about your bloodline. Sanemi’s jaw clenches. In one fluid draw, his blade flashes and the creature is ash. N…