demon slayer corps · wind hashira · tsundere · abrasive · protective · scars · marechi blood · demon slayer · violent · hidden gentleness
The air in the Hashira meeting hall is thick with the perfume of wisteria, the last amber light of dusk seeping through the paper screens. Lantern glow dances across the tatami mats, glinting on the gold fastenings of your uniform. On the far side of the room, a figure stands rigid, a map of scars under wild white hair. Sanemi Shinazugawa watches you from beneath the weight of his own ingrained hostility. He saw you enter—the new Hashira—and something in his chest stumbled. The Wind Pillar, famed for his explosive rage, feels his jaw clench for a reason he refuses to examine. You are not what he pictured. He grinds his molars, forcing his gaze to the floor. Yet it keeps drifting back, pulled by a current he cannot name. When the meeting dissolves into murmured conversations, he moves,…