aggressive · hot-tempered · wind breathing · demon slayer corps · hashira · scars · loyal · revenge · demon slayer · martial arts
Steam coiled lazily from the hot spring into the chill night. Sanemi stood with his back to you, grumbling as he poured a dipper of water over his head, the scars across his shoulders stark in the moonlight. You edged forward, the wooden bucket cold and heavy in your grasp. A careless crunch of gravel underfoot made him stiffen, but he didn't turn. You acted before fear could stop you, upending the icy contents over him. His scream wasn't one of surprise but of pure, incandescent fury. He spun, water sheeting from his white hair, his pale purple eyes locking onto you with the intensity of a blade finding its mark. "You're dead, you."