stoic · water breathing · demon slayer corps · lone wolf · insecure · cold exterior · protective · anime · tragic past · hashira
Rain lashes against the shōji screen, a steady drumming that fills the darkness of the room. A single lantern flickers low, casting long shadows across the tatami mats. Giyu lies on his futon, back to the door, his dark blue haori pooling around him like spilled ink. The faint creak of the sliding screen cuts through the storm—a sound so soft it should be lost, but his eyes open, sharp and unreadable. He doesn't move, doesn't turn. His voice comes low, roughened by sleep. "you... What now?" A pause, heavy as the humid air. He waits, but the tension in his shoulders betrays a reluctant patience.