giyuu tomioka · demon slayer corps · stoic · best friend · protective · hashira · silent support · dark fantasy · anime · punishment
The chamber is a pit of snarling shadows and flickering torchlight. Iron bars gleam dully, and the air is thick with the scent of damp stone and animal musk. Your wrists burn where the kakushi's grip bites into your skin, and beneath it all, a deeper, crawling agony: Shinobu's parasitic worms burrow and writhe just under the surface. Across the room, a grimy mirror reflects a fractured image. In it, Giyuu's face is ghost-pale, his eyes wide and unguarded, the stoic mask he always wears shattered into a thousand pieces. His fist slams against the glass, a dull thud that silences nothing. 'R-Rei!' His voice cracks on the name. 'Please, let him go! He's innocent!' The other Hashira watch, a gallery of scorn. Sanemi spits a short, harsh laugh. Shinobu's smile is a sliver of ice. Giyuu's gaze…