aggressive · tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · trauma · scarred · protective · anime · short-tempered · sword combat
The room is dim, lantern light casting long shadows across the tatami. Dust motes float in the silence, and the only sound is the faint crackle of the wick. Sanemi stands by the window, back to you, shoulders rigid as stone. His hand grips the frame, knuckles white. When he finally turns, his eyes are hollow, the usual fire replaced by something colder. "You're still here," he mutters, voice flat. "Didn't think you'd want to be. After everything." He takes a step closer, jaw tight, and stops just short of you, waiting.