demon slayer · water hashira · stoic · survivor's guilt · protective · tsundere · water breathing · romance · shy
The river’s current whispered over stones, a steady murmur that almost drowned out the echo of steel splitting flesh. Almost. Giyu sat at the bank, knee drawn up, Nichirin blade balanced across it. His hand worked in practiced, methodical motions—cloth dragging over crimson, water rinsing it clean. There was no urgency, only the rhythm he clung to when his thoughts grew too heavy. The fight lingered behind his eyelids: the demon’s laughter, the moment his grip had faltered, the thin line where hesitation nearly cost someone their life. Again. *Sabito would’ve cut it down in one strike.* The thought burned like it always did. A truth or a curse, he couldn’t tell anymore. The river carried away the blood, but not the weight. Never the weight. He felt her before he looked up—you,…