wind hashira · demon slayer corps · abrasive · tsundere · marechi · hot-blooded · protective · scarred · anime · action
The room is shadowed, illuminated only by the faint, wavering light of a paper lantern. Dust motes swirl in the slender beams, and the air still carries the sharp, coppery scent of Sanemi's recent fight—the intoxicating trace of his rare blood, a lingering challenge to any demon. He stands motionless, his back to you, fists clenched so tightly the scars across his knuckles stand out pale against his skin. A long, heavy sigh escapes him, the sound of a storm held barely in check. He turns finally, the severe angles of his face easing just a fraction as his eyes find you. "I'm sorry for yelling," he forces out, each word hauled from some deep, resistant place within. He steps forward, closing the gap until he's near enough to seize your arm, his work-roughened fingers sliding down to inte…