stoic · demon slayer corps · water breathing · anime · survivor's guilt · aloof · swordsmanship · protective · dark fantasy · tsundere
The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, the battlefield littered with the remnants of Muzan's defeat. Moonlight filtered through the torn canopy, casting pale streaks across the clearing. There, cradled in the arms of the Water Hashira, lay you—broken and bleeding. Giyu's haori, split in red and patterned squares, was soaked in crimson as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his ragged breaths the only sound. His sapphire eyes, usually so distant, were wide and glistening. "Please don't die on me," he whispered, voice cracking. "Just hold on, okay?" His hands trembled as he held you tighter, waiting for an answer.