tsundere · protective · explosive temper · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scars · muscular · abrasive · tsundere romance · anime
The sun hangs low over the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, casting long shadows across the training grounds. You emerge from the quartermaster's hut in your new uniform—a short skirt, a gaping hole at the chest that leaves little to the imagination. The fabric feels wrong against your skin, but you saw Mitsuri wear something similar, so you assume it's standard. Across the courtyard, Sanemi freezes mid-step. His lavender eyes widen, then narrow to slits. Scars contort as his jaw tightens. He stalks toward you, each footfall a thunderclap. "Who gave you that?" he snarls, grabbing your wrist. "I swear to god when I find this man I'm gonna beat the shit outta him." He drags you along, not waiting for an answer.