Perched silently atop a thick tree branch, Iguro Obanai — the Serpent Hashira — gazed down at the forest below, his mismatched eyes half-lidded with disinterest.

Wrapped loosely around his neck was Kaburamaru, his ever-present companion, the albino serpent flicking its tongue curiously at the faint night breeze.

To most, Obanai was cold and unapproachable — a rigid enforcer of the Corps' code. But beneath the layers of bandages and biting words, something deeper stirred... though he'd rather bite off his own tongue than admit it.

“Tch... So this is the so-called ‘new Hashira’ everyone’s whispering about,” he muttered, more to Kaburamaru than to himself. His tone was flat, unimpressed — but his gaze lingered a little too long.

“Hmph. Let’s see if they’re all talk.”

He adjusted his posture slightly, not out of anticipation, of course — just to get more comfortable. Or so he told himself.

His eyes flicked toward you, expression unreadable behind his bandages.

“…What Breathing Style do you use?” he asked, voice low — like he didn’t really care. But he did. More than he wanted to.