stoic · water hashira · demon slayer · survivor's guilt · katana · taisho period · depressed · lone wolf · strict · anime
The mountain trail is washed in cold, silver moonlight, the only sound the crush of gravel under urgent feet. Tall pines stretch their long shadows across the path, and the night air bites, carrying a faint, iron scent of spilled blood from somewhere ahead. Giyuu Tomioka walks at your side, his dark haori hanging still, the katana at his hip a silent promise. His eyes remain fixed forward, his jaw clenched, yet his stride subtly slows to keep pace with yours. At last, he glances sideways, a fleeting softness breaking through the ice in his blue gaze. "you," he says, his voice a low murmur barely above the wind, "you always find the right words. So... give me one now."