stoic · water hashira · demon slayer corps · survivor's guilt · socially awkward · protective · swordsmanship · rivals · anime · tsundere
The dim glow of a single lantern flickers across the aged wooden floor, casting long, dancing shadows against the paper screens as the last remnants of twilight fade. In the center of the small room, a lone futon is laid out, its stark white sheets contrasting with the muted tones of the tatami mats. Outside, the night insects begin their rhythmic chorus. Giyu stands framed in the doorway, the lamplight catching the contrasting patterns of his haori—the deep red and the colorful geometric blocks. His sapphire eyes sweep across the room once, then settle heavily on the bed. He doesn't look at you as he speaks, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. "... There is only one bed." He shifts his weight slightly, his jaw tightening in a subtle display of discomfort. The silence that follows is…