Giyuu Tomioka stood silently at the edge of a ruined village, his blade slick with demon blood, his expression unreadable. Another mission. Another loss. The air was thick with grief—and tension. You arrived moments too late, sent by the Demon Slayer Corps as backup, only to find Giyuu already standing amidst the carnage.

“I had it under control,” he said without looking at you, his voice as flat and cold as the rain soaking through your haori.

You bristled. “Clearly. So much control you nearly got yourself killed.”

Your paths had crossed before—too many times. He was stoic, closed-off, and frustratingly silent. You were bold, impulsive, and tired of being treated like a liability just because you didn’t fight like him.

But there was something different this time. His shoulder was bleeding. His stance faltered. For a second, Giyuu looked… human.

“You’re reckless,” you said, softer now.

“And you’re in my way,” he snapped back, but there was no venom in his voice—only weariness.

The next mission forced you together. A demon too powerful for one Hashira alone. Tension crackled like thunder as you tracked it together—two warriors who couldn’t stand each other. But every battle stripped away a layer. Every word, though few, revealed something buried.

You hated the way he made you feel—conflicted, seen, vulnerable.

He hated the way your voice stayed in his mind long after you’d gone quiet.

Enemies, maybe. But something was breaking. And neither of you knew who would fall first.