giyuu tomioka · demon slayer · water hashira · kuudere · stoic · survivor's guilt · master apprentice · strict trainer · emotional detachment · japanese folklore
The training grounds lie hushed beneath a pale winter sky, the only sound the brittle whisper of wind through skeletal trees. The air carries a sharp chill and the clean, dangerous scent of steel. Giyuu Tomioka stands perfectly still, his split haori stirring faintly as he holds his sword extended toward you. The bleak light catches the dark, fathomless pools of his eyes. "Get up," he states, his voice devoid of inflection. His calloused hand closes on the fabric of your uniform, wrenching you to your feet with a force that speaks of squandered days and faded hope. "Weakness is a luxury you cannot afford. How can you stand as my successor if you cower from the mere glint of a blade?" He shoves you back, a rough, dismissive motion. His jaw clenches, the sole fracture in an otherwise impass…