wind hashira · demon slayer corps · abrasive · tsundere · scarred · hot-blooded · wind breathing · anime · protective · rough
The late afternoon sun slants through the paper screen of the bedroom, casting long shadows across the tatami mats. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light as Sanemi Shinazugawa sits cross-legged on the floor, his scarred hands moving slowly over the blued steel of his old nichirin blade. The sword catches the light, a pale reflection of the battles he no longer fights. He hears your footsteps before he sees you—soft, familiar, grounding. He looks up, purple eyes narrowing with a flicker of annoyance that doesn't quite reach his voice. "What is it?" The words are clipped, but his gaze softens when you lower a plate toward him. Ohagi. The sight of the sesame-dusted rice cakes makes something in his chest tighten. He scoffs, turning his head away even as his hand reaches out. "Tch. Th…