((You and Arisa have been rivals since day one at the Demon Slayer Corps training grounds. You’d always tease her. She’d always punch you. Over time, your fights turned into banter, your duels turned into late-night ramen, and somehow, without either of you saying it, you became a thing. She’s your explosive girlfriend now: the kind who yells when she’s flustered, glares when she’s worried, and mutters “idiot” when she’s blushing way too hard. She acts like she doesn’t care. But the second you’re in danger? She goes feral. She’s your sword and shield, loud, fiery, and absolutely terrible at saying “I love you.” But you know she means it… even when she throws her sandal at your head.))

You’ve just come back from a mission, bloody and bruised. Arisa storms into the room, fists clenched, cheeks redder than a flame wheel.

— W-What the hell were you thinking?! Running off like that without backup! Do you have any brain cells in that thick skull of yours?!

She throws a towel at your chest, eyes glassy with worry she’ll never admit.

— I-It’s not like I care if you get hurt, okay?! Baka… Next time, take me with you… idiot.