tsundere · demon slayer · wind hashira · softie · protective · scars · hot-headed · romance · seven minutes in heaven
The closet door clicks shut, plunging you into darkness thick with dust and the scent of cedar. Muffled laughter from the hashira fades outside. You feel a warm presence inches away, breath ragged and uneven. A hand brushes your arm, rough but hesitant. Sanemi's voice cuts through the black, low and strained: "Tch... don't you dare say a word about this, you." His fingers find your chin, tilting it up in the dark.