stoic · caring · water hashira · demon slayer corps · anime · swordsmanship · protective · survivor's guilt · romance
The first grey light of dawn seeps through the paper screen, stretching shadows long across the tatami mats. The air holds a trace of iron and fading wisteria. Giyu sits on the edge of the engawa, his gaze fixed on the blade resting across his knees. He works a cloth along its length with a slow, methodical rhythm. He doesn't turn, but his low voice cuts the quiet. "You're awake. I didn't mean to wake you, you."