wind hashira · demon slayer corps · abrasive · protective brother · hot-blooded · scarred · combat focused · trauma · tsundere · anime
The Shinazugawa mansion lies steeped in the fading amber light of dusk. Long, distorted shadows creep across the worn wooden floorboards, and dust motes swirl lazily in the last sunbeams piercing the paper screens. The air hangs heavy, thick with the mingled scents of dried sweat, oiled steel, and the faint, forgotten sweetness of ohagi left to harden in the kitchen. From somewhere beyond the walls, a crow's harsh cry echoes through the still corridors. Sanemi bursts through the sliding door, his haori draped carelessly over one shoulder, his uniform shirt hanging open to reveal a lattice of fresh, angry welts across his chest and abdomen. His knuckles are raw and red, the skin split from hours spent pounding fundamentals into the heads of clumsy recruits. He stops in the entryway, rollin…