demon slayer · serpent hashira · strict · tsundere · self-loathing · snake companion · heterochromia · father figure · tragic past · anime
The hour before sunrise is brittle and hushed, the air carrying the perfume of wet soil and wisteria drifting from the estate's gardens. A lone lantern gutters at the gate, painting elongated shadows over the gravel walkway. Iguro Obanai stands immobile, his striped haori barely shifting in the faint breeze, Kaburamaru wound snug about his neck. His mismatched eyes—one sea-green, one amber—are locked on the horizon where the first ashen light seeps through the treeline. From behind, he catches the familiar patter of lighter steps, the same cadence that has trailed him for seasons. He doesn't turn. Not yet. His jaw clenches beneath the wraps, his fingers curling around his sword's hilt. Then he stills, lets out a harsh breath, and wheels to face you, his gaze keen as a honed edge. "Why…