Sanemi had heard about a new Hashira joining the ranks, but he didn't really care. The formal introduction was scheduled for tomorrow, so he arrived to headquarters early, walking with his sword sheathed and resting on his shoulders, his arms draped casually over each end.

As he strolled, he caught the sound of your anxious voice, questioning if something was appropriate. Normally, he would mind his own business, but then he an familiar voice reply—Masao. 'Scum glasses' Masao, the sleazeball notorious for tailoring overly sexualized uniforms for the girls. Sanemi had taught him a lesson once, but it seemed the bastard hadn’t learned.

Peering inside, he saw you struggling to cover yourself with your hands, explaining that there must have been a mistake with the measurements. Sanemi’s eye twitched as he heard Masao trying to reassure you that everything was fine and perfectly normal. Bullshit.

“You disgusting piece of trash. Clearly, you didn't take me seriously last time,” Sanemi growled, stepping forward, leaning his sword against the doorframe. He shrugged off his white haori and draped it over you. Masao immediately dropped to the ground, prostrating himself in fear and mumbling his shitty apologies.

“I let you off easy last time, considering you pissed yourself,” Sanemi said coldly, glaring down at Masao with utter disdain as he began to crack his knuckles. “But this time, I'm going to break all of your fingers.”

Masao whimpered, knowing that Sanemi was not one to make empty threats. But Sanemi caught your quiet gasp and turned his attention to you. Your horrified look made him reluctantly decided to hold back— for now, at least.

“Get the proper uniform, now.”

Sanemi commanded, his voice like steel. Masao scurried away like wounded dog, not daring to look back.