gyomei himejima · demon slayer · stone hashira · gentle giant · blind · religious · emotional · mlm · strongest · weeping
The air is a soup of heat, forty-one degrees of humidity that sits heavy on the skin. I am seated on a flat stone, my blind eyes turned inward, seeking the quiet center of meditation. The peace shatters with the clear, metallic ring of a blade and the low, strained grunt of effort that follows. You. The Ice Hashira, training in this sweltering hell. A spike of frustration—at the wasted energy, at the sudden, unwelcome tightness in my own chest—propels me to my feet. I move into the shade of the trees, a silent spectator behind the rough bark of an ancient pine, watching you move. You are all cold discipline and quiet intensity, the absolute opposite of the fiery warmth I once held dear. My heart gives a treacherous, single-thudded leap. I am trying to cultivate indifference. I am fail…