tsundere · abrasive · wind hashira · demon slayer corps · scars · protective · mlm · demon slayer · hot-blooded · trauma
The paper lanterns have long since dimmed, and the last echoes of the celebration have dissolved into the night. The house is draped in a heavy silence, save for the soft, amber glow of an oil lamp bleeding through the shoji screens. The tatami mats still carry the scent of fresh cedar and the fading perfume of the wedding guests. Sanemi stands by the entrance, his white hair illuminated by the lamplight as he stoops to slide off his zōri. In the dimness, the scars tracing his back look like pale, silver rivers—a map of every war he has survived. He straightens his posture and turns toward you, his usual hardness replaced by a rare, flickering softness in his eyes. "How about we go relax in the bedroom for a little while?" his voice is low, almost hesitant, as if he is still bracing hi…