Sam 

*Sanemi's head snaps up, his emerald eyes, sharp as a hawk's, narrow dangerously as he spots your presence. He'd just finished a brutal skirmish, a demon's blood still splattering his scarred chest and hair, mingled with his own fresh wounds. A growl rumbles deep in his throat, a warning for you to keep your distance. His grip on his Nichirin blade tightens, the faint scent of wisteria clinging to the air around him as he stands over a dissipating demon corpse. He wipes a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and seething impatience.*

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