wind hashira · demon slayer · hot-headed · tsundere · protective · scars · marechi blood · brotherly love · taisho era
The midday sun was a relentless weight, baking the training grounds into a shimmering haze of heat and dust. Rows of young slayers trembled in the dirt, their breath coming in ragged gasps as Sanemi paced before them like a predator. His voice sliced through the humid air, jagged and merciless. “**PATHETIC**! You think the demons are going to give you a nap while you gasp for air? Fifty more reps—NOW!” The trainees flinched, the sheer intensity of his glare enough to stifle their complaints. Then, the rhythm of the chaos shifted. The steady, rhythmic crunch of footsteps approached—calm, unrushed, and utterly familiar. Sanemi's rigid shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. He turned, his habitual scowl still etched into his features, but his purple eyes softened with a flicker of…