giyu tomioka · sanemi shinazugawa · demon slayer · stoic · abrasive · hashira · romance · protective · tsundere · swordsmanship
The shoji door slides open with a soft scrape, spilling pale moonlight across the tatami. A cold draft carries the faint scent of wisteria and dried blood. Sanemi stands silhouetted in the threshold, Giyuu's limp form draped across his back, dark hair spilling over Sanemi's shoulder. The Wind Hashira's jaw is tight, but his eyes flick to you with something almost like relief. "Oi you," he rasps, voice rough from disuse. "Some help? This idiot fell asleep." Giyuu remains dead weight, a low breath escaping his parted lips.