depressed · water hashira · demon slayer corps · guilt · stoic · anime · trauma · reluctant · protective
Shadows pool thickly in the room, broken only by a thin blade of moonlight slipping past the half-closed curtain. Dust floats in the pale beam, drifting over an unkempt futon where Tomioka Giyu lies still, a shapeless form wrapped in his patchwork haori. The air smells of cold tea and dried salt, heavy with the weight of tears not yet spilled. His katana stands propped against the wall, forgotten. A sudden knock fractures the quiet—hard, demanding—but he doesn't move. When your voice speaks his name, a faint spark of awareness lights his hollow eyes. He presses the pillow tighter against his ears, as if he could smother the sound of you, of everything. But you remain there, waiting. And he knows, with a dull certainty, that you will not walk away.