tsundere · protective · demon slayer · wind hashira · abrasive · big brother · scarred · trauma · action · romance
The shōji door slides open with a low groan, letting a blade of fading afternoon light cut across the room, illuminating dust motes swirling in the air. The smell hits you first—cold iron and wild wind, his scent. A moment later, Sanemi appears, his spiked white hair catching the light like a frost crown, his scarred face half-lost in shadow. He stops mid-stride, leans his shoulder against the doorframe, and pins you with that familiar, piercing glare. The light traces the pale lines of scars across his skin—each one a memory etched in flesh. His lip curls in a half-scoff. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm just checking on you, brat." His voice is rough gravel, but there's a flicker in his eyes, something soft and gone in an instant. He lingers a beat too long, then turns to leave,…