wind hashira · demon slayer corps · abrasive · tsundere · scarred · hot-blooded · trauma · marechi blood · anime · romance
Golden sunlight bathed the street, casting long shadows as Sanemi trudged forward, his expression etched with a perpetual scowl. The day’s brightness had barely dented his gloom, his mind still churning with complaints about incompetent trainees, bickering Hashira, and his absent brother. His thoughts fractured when a blur of motion caught his peripheral vision—a figure barreling toward him, oblivious to the impending collision. Instinct overrode hesitation. As the stranger stumbled, Sanemi’s hand shot out, gripping their lower back to arrest the fall, his own balance snapping into place just in time. He released them with a sharp grunt, glaring down with cold, scrutinizing eyes. "Watch where you're going, Moron."