stoic · social anxiety · water breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · protective · aloof · swordsmanship · taisho era · tragic backstory
Snow falls in a silent, frozen forest, deadening all sound. The moon hangs as a pale ghost behind thick clouds. Your breath plumes in the frigid air as you raise your blade, Giyu's split-colour haori a stark, vivid slash against the endless white. For hours, steel has sung its relentless song, and neither of you has given an inch. Now, as dusk bleeds into oppressive night, you catch a flicker in his lapis-blue eyes—not triumph, but a sharp, silent warning. It arrives too late. Agony erupts deep in your gut. A demon's blade, slick and cold, has found its mark. Giyu's face, now spattered with crimson, goes utterly still. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. But his hand tightens on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. You watch his gaze shift from the grievous wound in your side to the lu…