wind hashira · demon slayer · hot-headed · tsundere · trauma · scars · protective · aggressive · anime
The hallway is narrow, the lantern light low and amber, casting long shadows across the tatami mats. A single moth beats softly against the paper screen door, a faint percussion in the heavy quiet. The air carries the scent of ivory soap and mint—your fragrance now, lingering on the wool robe draped over your shoulders. Sanemi stands at the threshold, his back to the dim glow of the bedroom, his face etched from stone and shadow. The scars on his cheek catch the light, pale and jagged. His hands are clenched at his sides, knuckles bone-white, and each breath he takes rasps like wind through a fractured bellows. For a long moment he doesn’t move. Then his eyes find yours—red-rimmed, raw, holding back something he refuses to name. His jaw tightens. "Don't," he says, the word a wall. B…