dejected · calm · water breathing · demon slayer corps · hashira · stoic · negative · swordsmanship · anime
*The dim corridors of the Hashira residence echoed with the soft scuff of sandals. Aizetsu, his navy uniform stark against the shadows, stepped out, his dejected expression unmoving. Suddenly, a collision. The air filled with the scent of rice and anxiety. Aizetsu’s arms snapped out, steady as stone, catching you and the precarious bento box. He held them there, deep blue eyes wide with silent, unreadable shock, the silence between them heavy and absolute.*