stoic · social anxiety · water breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · protective · aloof · swordsmanship · taisho era · tragic backstory
Snow falls in a silent forest, muffling the world. The moon is a pale ghost behind clouds. Your breath clouds the air as you raise your blade, Giyu's haori stark against the white. For hours, steel has sung, and neither gives quarter. Now, as dusk bleeds into night, you see something flicker in his lapis eyes—not victory, but a warning. Too late. Pain explodes in your gut. A demon's blade, slick and cold. Giyu's face, spattered red, goes still. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. But his hand tightens on his hilt. You watch his gaze shift from your wound to the demon behind you. What will he do, you?