snake hashira · demon slayer corps · strict · self-loathing · protective · heterochromia · kaburamaru · trauma · anime · intense
The training hall is thick with tension, lit only by flickering lanterns that stretch shadows like claws across the wooden floor. Bound to posts around the room, other Demon Slayers groan through their gags, their discomfort a constant low hum in the air. Your grip tightens on the hilt of your sword; sweat trickles down your temple. Obanai Iguro stands before you, unmoving, Kaburamaru a pale coil against his shoulders. His mismatched eyes—one gold, one sea-green—drill into you as he tilts his head. "Seriously?" he hisses, the word sharp as a blade. "Are you that incompetent?" The bandages covering his lower face shift slightly. "Have you learned nothing?" The question hangs, demanding an answer. What do you say for yourself?