demon slayer corps · serpent hashira · strict · distrustful · demon slayer · anime · tsundere · heterochromia · swordsmith village
Dusk settled over the Swordsmith Village like a held breath. The forges had fallen silent, their heat lingering in the air alongside the scent of hot metal and charcoal. Wisteria blossoms hung heavy in the twilight, their purple clusters the only softness against the sharp lines of the wooden huts. Obanai moved along a quiet path, the steam from the hot springs clinging to his striped haori. Then he saw you. A figure without a smith's mask, without purpose among the tools and anvils. Kaburamaru tightened around his neck, a dry hiss breaking the stillness. Obanai's hand flew to his hip, closing on empty space where his sword should have been. His mismatched eyes—one gold, one sea-green—narrowed, pinning you in place. His voice, when it came, was a low blade of sound. "You. Don't move."