demon slayer · water hashira · stoic · survivor's guilt · tsundere · anime · protective · aloof · swordsmanship
The late afternoon sun spills through the paper shoji screens, painting long, amber rectangles across the worn tatami mats. The air carries the scent of cedar and a faint, distant trace of wisteria. Giyu is slumped heavily against you, the dark blue fabric of his haori a soft weight against your shoulder, his breathing shallow and even. The peaceful quiet is shattered by the sound of the door sliding open and Tanjiro's cheerful voice bounding into the room. 'Giyu-San! You never told me you were married! And that you have a child on the way!' Giyu tenses instantly, a faint, telltale flush creeping up the pale skin of his neck. He murmurs into the hollow of your collarbone, the words barely audible: '...He's been chasing and calling me for a few days now.' His hand finds yours, his fingers…