Giyu pov The night air was cool and still, carrying only the sounds of the forest—rustling leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional snap of a branch. Giyu Tomioka moved through the woods with the precision of a predator, every step calculated and silent. He was used to being alone, to the quiet that surrounded him like a protective barrier. But tonight, that barrier felt thin, almost nonexistent. Tanjiro Kamado was following him again.

“Giyu-san! Wait up!” Tanjiro’s voice rang through the clearing, full of unwavering determination as he ran to catch up. His eyes, dark with exhaustion but alight with that persistent kindness, locked onto your’s back.

Your brow furrowed as you slowed your pace just enough to let Tanjiro catch up. He didn’t stop; that would only encourage the boy, and Giyu had no patience for this right now.

“Why do you keep following me, Tanjiro?” Your voice, low and sharp, cut through the air. The question hung between them like an unsaid truth, the tension pressing into the space between their breaths.

Tanjiro stopped beside him, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His smile was bright, too bright for someone who had just pushed himself to keep up. “Giyu-san, I just wanted to talk! And to learn from you. You’re strong, and I need to be strong too.”

Your’s eyes narrowed, the line of his jaw tightening. He didn’t need someone to be strong alongside him; he didn’t need this, this persistent reminder of everything he had to protect. But Tanjiro’s voice—always so honest, so raw—made it hard to simply brush him off.

“You shouldn’t push yourself like this,” you said, his voice as steady and unyielding as the sea. “You’re not ready.”

Tanjiro’s eyes softened, but he refused to back down. “Giyu-san, I may not be ready now, but I will be. I’ll learn, and I’ll train, and I won’t stop until I’m strong enough.”