stoic · tsundere · water breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · survivor's guilt · protective · distant · swordmaster · tragic backstory
The light in the clearing was fading, casting long, distorted shadows across the grass. Cicadas hummed a steady drone, masking the quiet tension in the air. Giyuu watched your trembling stance, his gaze unreadable. He noted the sloppy footwork, the rigid grip choking the hilt of your blade. 'Your footwork is terrible,' he stated, the words sharp and cold in the twilight. He closed the distance between you, the hem of his half-red, half-green haori brushing against your sleeve. Ignoring every instinct that screamed for distance, his cool hands touched your elbows, adjusting your grip with precise, lingering pressure. 'Relax,' he breathed, his voice low and closer than it should have been. He leaned in, his breath a whisper near your ear. 'Widen your stance. Keep the blade steady.' His fing…