giyu tomioka · sanemi shinazugawa · demon slayer · stoic · abrasive · hashira · romance · protective · tsundere · swordsmanship
The shoji door rasps open, slicing a rectangle of cold moonlight across the woven floor. A chill breeze carries the mingled scents of wisteria and iron. Sanemi fills the doorway, Giyuu’s unconscious form a heavy mantle across his shoulders, dark hair spilling like ink. The Wind Hashira’s jaw is clenched, a tendon working in his neck, but his eyes find yours with a flicker of ragged acknowledgment. "Oi you," he grates, his voice stripped raw. "Lend a hand. This bastard fell asleep on his feet." Giyuu hangs utterly still, a faint, damp sigh escaping his lips.