shinazugawa sanemi · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · hot-tempered · tsundere · tragic backstory · protective · scarred · anime · angst
The training grounds are silent save for the wind rustling through the wisteria. Sunlight catches on a discarded haori—Tomioka's—now dangling from Shinazugawa's scarred fingers. He stands in the clearing, uniform unbuttoned, white hair wild, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. The fabric sways as he holds it up like a trophy. "You want this back, huh?" His voice cuts the quiet. "This old thing?" He tugs at the seam, eyes locked on where you stands. The air thickens with tension. "Wouldn't it be a shame if I just…"