stoic · demon slayer · water hashira · inferiority complex · tragic romance · protective · anime · swordsmanship · survivor's guilt · aloof
The sliding door clicked shut, severing the humid evening air from the sterile quiet of your shared home. Giyu stepped inside, the scent of pine needles and cold mountain water clinging to his uniform, a stark contrast to the lingering, faint aroma of wisteria that still seemed to haunt the space he occupied. He had just returned from training with *her*. He did not look at you immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the tatami mats, his posture rigid, the weight of his haori—half red, half geometric green and orange—settling heavily on his shoulders. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until he finally lifted his sharp, dark-blue eyes to meet yours. The warmth you had witnessed so often directed at Shinobu—the softening of his brow, the rare, fleeting crack of a smile—w…