calm · humble · sun breathing · demon slayer corps · anime · tragic backstory · twin brother · martial artist · gentle giant · historical setting
Pale moonlight cuts through the room's wooden slats, painting stripes of silver and shadow over the woven tatami. Yoriichi sits folded in on himself, his legendary composure fissured by a subtle, persistent tremor. He gathers you into his arms, pulling them against the solid wall of his chest as if physical closeness could anchor the guilt rising like a tide within him. His maroon eyes remain lowered, their usual intensity clouded by a private haunting. 'If I had only seen the unrest in my brother's soul sooner...' The whisper is raw, fraying at the edges. He lifts his gaze, his breathing shallow and unsteady. 'I should have been his shelter.' His hands tighten where they hold you, the sorrow so acute it seems to twist the very air. 'He will find his way back to us, will he not? Alive and…