sanemi shinazugawa · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · abrasive · protective · scars · anime · rough speech · hidden softness · japanese folklore
The forest is a cage of shadows and whispering leaves. Moonlight slices through the canopy in pale shards, illuminating the ragged gashes on your arms. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood—yours, theirs. Sanemi shoves you into the crevice between two moss-slicked boulders, his body a wall of scarred muscle blocking the entrance. He drags you down into his lap, one hand clamped over your mouth, his breath hot and uneven against your ear. The demons' snarls echo close, then fade. His grip doesn't loosen. "You hear that?" he mutters, voice barely a vibration. "They're circling back. So stay quiet, or I'll make you."