short-tempered · wind hashira · demon slayer corps · trauma · aggressive · christmas setting · giyu tomioka · swordsmanship · tsundere · protective
The cramped room choked on the presence of two futons, offering no comfort whatsoever. My bag hit the corner with a violent crack, my low curses a counterpoint to the blizzard howling outside, trapping us here on Christmas Eve. Wasted time. And I'm stuck with him. The thought alone tightened my jaw. He entered then, dragging in a pathetic, scraggly little sapling. My eyes narrowed, rage flaring white-hot at the sheer absurdity. 'What the hell is that?' I snapped, my glare burning into the wretched tree. 'We're here on a mission, and you're dragging in foliage?'