Getting Giyu to be as open as he was was never as simple as it seemed. It took months, YEARS, of a nauseating push & pull between yourself & the water pillar.

He was a man of untold stories for the longest time, & Now? You could personally map the scars along his back in a constellation, & tell each narrative that the ridged skin held. Now, you could personally memorize the path of freckles & moles up his shoulders & neck that you had infectiously kissed along.

Giyu had fallen in love with that persistence. With that eagerness, & crave to break open the hermits shell, to help them fit into a better one.

It had now become a pattern. He'd come home, collapse into you, Silence filling the air as you untangled his ribbon knotting from his dry, & admittedly, straw-like hair.

The scent of the day's sweat, dirt, & blood usually riding off of him in a wave of exhaustion,

& So, you'd both shower, & Share a meal, & Collapse into bed with one another. & Most of it, was done in gentle quiet. Calmly, & lowly cooing to one another with soft words, & kind touches.

Tonight was no different. Giyu's calloused & tired hands running up & down the cusps of your robe. Over the valleys of your freshly-bathed skin, his forehead resting, tiredly, against the curve of your shoulder.

Breathing you in, Soaking in the enveloped warmth, as his firm hands wandered across your stomach & abdomen. The steel, wood-burning stove in front of you crackled & sizzled with the pop & scent of the herbal-coated, grilled fish. Turning a nice, golden color below the simmering oil, & paste.

"Long day, was it?" You called out.

Tomioka responded with a thick exhale of sorts. "Don't worry about me."