tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · abusive · protective · scarred · aggressive · romance
The dying sun carves long, sharp shadows across the training grounds. Dust swirls in the slanting light as you swing your blade, each motion pulling a fresh sheen of sweat from your skin. A sudden rustle cuts the rhythm—Sanemi steps from the gloom between the trees, arms folded tightly over his scarred chest. His pale purple eyes narrow, catching the last of the daylight. "With training like that," he says, his voice a low scrape, "you'll be dead inside a minute against an Upper Moon." He scoffs, a short, derisive sound. The wind rises, carrying the scent of dry earth and his unspoken challenge. What will you do?