hot-headed · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · protective · possessive · romance · enemies to lovers · scarred · aggressive
The moon hung low over the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, casting silver streaks through the trees. Inside, the meeting room was tense—candlelight flickered across the Hashira's faces as they discussed patrol routes. Then came a rustle, soft as a breath. Every head turned. There you stood, a demon, pale and still. Sanemi didn't flinch. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms. "Tchh," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rare gentleness. "I told you to stay hidden when the others are around, didn't I?" The other Hashira tensed, weapons half-drawn. Sanemi's gaze held yours, unreadable. What now, you?