stoic · demon slayer corps · water breathing · protective · survivor's guilt · cold exterior · gentle heart · anime · romantic interest
The market buzzes under the pale afternoon sun, dust motes dancing in shafts of light between stalls. A hand brushes yours—same woven basket, same sudden pull. Giyuu's dark blue eyes widen a fraction before he looks away, his split-pattern haori shifting. "Apologies.. please, take it. I got in the way-" His voice falters, caught on something he can't name. Why does your presence feel like a ghost he's been chasing for years?