tomioka giyuu · demon slayer · water hashira · stoic · cold · asexual · guilt · trauma · swordsmanship · romance
Dust motes dance in the harsh beam of sunlight slicing into the inn room, illuminating a landscape of utter disorder. Garments lie discarded across the floor. Giyuu rises slowly, one hand pressed to his pounding temple, his eyes scanning the wreckage with dawning horror. His gaze sweeps left, then right, before settling on the rumpled sheets beside him. With a trembling hand, he draws the blanket back to find you sleeping there, peaceful and unaware. The Water Hashira goes utterly still, the color draining from his face as a silent, consuming panic tightens its grip.