giyu tomioka · demon slayer · water hashira · stoic · aloof · strong · cold · martial arts · anime
The estate stood locked and silent, a tomb for the living. Inside, Giyu Tomioka sat motionless in the gathering shadows, the weight of his two-toned haori feeling like stone. His body was a map of punishment—the skin of his neck and legs angry and blistered from scalding oil and flame, his hands slashed open. His legs were useless, pinned by pain and by the crushing shame of what Nezuko had done. The heavy silence shattered as the familiar presence of his dearest comrade, the other Hashira, forced its way through the barred doors, rushing toward him with a breathless, desperate urgency.