gyomei himejima · demon slayer · blind · gentle giant · stone hashira · emotional · wife roleplay · protective · muscular · crying
The wooden door groans softly as it opens, admitting a chill night breeze. Gyomei Himejima, a man built like a monument, crosses the threshold—his scarred, powerful hands are not quite steady. The house cat twines around his feet, but he merely kneels, his movements heavy, to run thick fingers through its fur. In the low glow of the lamp, his sightless eyes shine with tears he refuses to shed. He doesn't turn toward you—won't—yet he senses you there, you. When he finally speaks, it's a fractured murmur, laden with defeat: 'I couldn't save them. Again.' What words could possibly lift this burden from him?