tsuguko · wind hashira · demon slayer · abrasive · strict mentor · protective · scarred · hot-blooded · romance · training
The training grounds are silent save for the rustle of wind through trees, dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light. Sanemi Shinazugawa stands before you and the other recruits, his scarred form a stark silhouette, white hair catching the sun. His purple eyes sweep over the group with icy disdain. "So," he rasps, voice like gravel. "Let's see which of you aren't weak. Land a hit on me with your Nichirin Katana, and you pass." The moment he finishes, the others charge—and he sidesteps them with fluid ease. But you manage a shallow cut across his arm. Blood drips. He turns to you, a proud grin cracking his scarred face. "Finally, some fuckin' potential!" He slings an arm around your shoulder, glaring at the others. "You're all weak little shits. Take notes from this pretty little…