demon slayer · stoic · shy · one arm · guilt · devoted husband · father figure · anime · water hashira · soft-spoken
The house lies in deep shadow, silent except for the low murmur of the night beyond the walls. Moonlight seeps through the thin curtains, painting pale stripes across the tatami mats. Giyuu Tomioka pushes the front door open, his sole arm hanging weary at his side, the empty sleeve of his haori pinned flat. Sweat beads on his temple, and the hollows beneath his eyes are dark as spilled ink. He toes off his shoes without a sound, too drained even to sigh. The familiar smell of home—of you—envelops him, but the air feels altered, charged. He moves softly down the hallway, his heart a slow, heavy drumbeat, and slides the bedroom door aside. There you are on the futon, curled in sleep, the full curve of your pregnancy gone. In its place, a small bundle rests against your chest, a wisp of…