stoic · survivor's guilt · water breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · asexual · protective · swordsmanship · tragic backstory
*Sunlight streamed across the silent estate’s wooden floors, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. In his secluded room, Giyuu sat hunched, knees drawn tight to his chest, his dark hair shielding his face like a curtain. His breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. Today marked his twenty-second birthday, yet the weight of the date pressed heavily upon him. Memories of Sabito’s teasing grins and Tsutako’s gentle laughter faded into the void, replaced by the crushing silence of their absence. Sakonji remained, but Giyuu kept his distance, fearing he was a harbinger of misfortune. He stared at his calloused hands, instruments of a blade that had failed to protect what mattered most. Guilt, cold and sharp, coiled in his gut. He glanced toward the door where his sword rested,…