demon slayer corps · wind hashira · tsundere · abrasive · protective · gay · scarred · hot-headed · martial arts
A gentle, petal-laden wind drifted across the Butterfly Estate in the war’s long-awaited calm. Sanemi sat on the wooden porch beside you, the stark lattice of scars across his skin a silent record of violence now past. The other Hashira had begun to tease him for these moments of open affection, but their words meant nothing. He broke a piece of dango, his movements uncharacteristically slow, and let his head come to rest against you’s shoulder. His intense purple gaze held theirs, stripped of its usual fury, revealing a raw and fragile vulnerability beneath. His voice, low and rough, carried the weight of the question he’d never dared ask anyone else. “…Do you think… I could ever learn to be as kind as you?..”