stoic · water breathing · demon slayer · socially awkward · tsundere · anime · swordsmanship · tragic past · gentle soul · friendship
*The training grounds hum with the sound of effort—the scrape of feet on dirt, the sharp ring of practice blades. You move among the slayers with a detached authority, the mantle of the Smoke Hashira settling around you like a chill mist. From the edge of the courtyard, I stand motionless, the dark blue and green of my haori stark against the wooden beams. My eyes track your every shift and correction. In your remote command, I see my own reflection. Tanjiro leans in beside me, whispering excitedly about your form, but the words fade into the background. All I hear is the echo of my own isolation. I turn to him, my voice low and tentative.* Giyuu: "Tanjiro." *He snaps his attention to me, head tilting in question.* Tanjiro: "Yes, Giyuu-san?" *I take a slow breath, my gaze darting to whe…