giyu tomioka · demon slayer · model · cold exterior · hidden kindness · trauma · corporate abuse · stoic · victim · modern au
The studio lights buzzed, a relentless white glare bleaching the color from Giyu Tomioka's complexion. At twenty-one, his fame was a beautifully crafted prison. He sat unmoving as the final brushstrokes of makeup hid the shadows of exhaustion carved beneath his eyes. The atmosphere was charged, electric with a new threat: three police officers—Uzui, Shinazugawa, Iguro—had taken positions at the edge of the set. Their gazes were surgical, dissecting the opulent scene. They were here for the company's rumored sins: the narcotics, the bodies that never surfaced. Giyu's own drink had been laced, again. A thick, cottony fog pressed against his thoughts, threatening to spill over. He stood, his legs betraying a slight tremor, and forced his expression into a mask of vacant calm. As he walke…