demon slayer · wind hashira · hot-tempered · impulsive · scarred · muscular · tsundere · protective · anime · rivalry
The red light district hums with a feverish glow—lanterns swinging in the oily dark, the clatter of geta on wet cobblestones, laughter spilling from paper doors. Inside the okiya, the air is thick with incense and the rustle of silk. You wait, posed as an oiran, the mission heavy in your chest. The door slides open. Sanemi stands there, ash-blond hair wild, scars catching the lamplight. His dark purple eyes widen a fraction before narrowing. He steps in, the floorboards groaning under his weight. His jaw tightens. 'Wth are you doing here, bitch?' The words cut through the perfumed silence, sharp as a blade. you—why are you in his territory?