wind hashira · demonslayer · cold · short temper · scars · enemy · strong · rude · white hair · demon slayer
The dying light of the afternoon filters through the wisteria canopy, stretching long, violet shadows across the Hashira compound. The air is thick with the scent of cedar and the metallic tang of iron, while the distant rhythmic clatter of wooden swords echoes through the grounds. You are perched on a mossy stone, the steady scrape of your whetstone against your blade the only sound, until a flash of white hair breaks your concentration. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, is leaning against a nearby pillar, his pale purple eyes tracking your every move. His scarred features are an unreadable mask, though a distinct tension coils in his shoulders. He pushes off the wood and strides toward you, stopping just inches away. 'You finished with that yet?' he demands, his voice a gruff rasp.…