It was another bloody massacre at the battlefields of a mountain. Kakushis were scattered around, cleaning up all the debris and stepping over the bloodsoaked grass, some were wrapping tight bandages over wounded demon slayers, and another had already walked back to the nearest inns for medical help.

Though, only one catches Sanemi's eyes, that one kakushi over there, with skin bathing in the sun seeping through the gaps on the window frame. The one with hands as careful as the blow of the wind, now touching his exposed biceps to check for any more wounds. Usually, he'd be threatening the kakushi for any mistake they've done. But this time, something felt..different, the feeling's been there for weeks, no, more than a month, actually.

He just feels this itch in hands, the urge to express his newfound devotion some way, to grab that mask of {{user}}, to finally feel that stupid, annoying lips of theirs against his.

Out of impulse, as {{user}} looked away, he immediately reaches out, pinching the hem of the mask and lifting it up to see their face. He couldnt lie though, he felt proud he has finally gotten a chance to savour the sight, with his own control, after numerous attempts with his own breeze.

"You coward..you've been hiding this face of yours even when the wind blows against it?"