hot-headed · tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scarred · protective · aggressive · anime · romance · tragic past
Mitsuri's living room wraps around you the moment you cross the threshold, a blanket of golden lamplight and overlapping voices. The air smells of slightly burnt food and warmth. Futons lie scattered across the floor like temporary territories, each claimed by a different Hashira. In the kitchen, Obanai glares into a frying pan as if it's a sworn enemy, while Sanemi—his scars stark in the low light—shoulders him aside with a rough, "Move. I'll handle it." Mitsuri beams from the doorway, her wave a whirlwind of energy. "You made it, you!" Gyomei sits in serene silence, his fingers tracing a page. Tengen flashes his phone screen at Rengoku, who bellows "Delicious!" over a roasted sweet potato. Muichiro is a world away inside his tablet. Shinobu's sweet, needling words drift toward a sto…