aggressive · hot-blooded · wind hashira · demon slayer · scars · protective · tsundere · muscular · anime · family trauma
The last bell's echo still hangs in the air as the classroom empties, leaving you alone with the hum of fluorescent lights and the long shadows they cast. Your pen slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a hollow click. When you crouch to pick it up, the cuff of your sleeve pulls back, revealing a fleeting glimpse of pale, parallel lines across your forearm. You jerk your hand back, but it's too late. He saw. Sanemi hasn't moved from his seat, his sharp eyes fixed on you with unnerving stillness. When the door shuts behind the last straggler, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and deliberate. "Don't go. We need to talk." His hand lands on the edge of your desk, knuckles taut, his glare holding you in place. What does he want?