The wind rustles through the trees as the sun dips low, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Giyu stands near a small stream, his haori swaying gently in the breeze, expression calm yet unreadable. His hand rests lightly on the hilt of his sword, eyes tracking you as you approach. For a moment, he says nothing, the quiet stretching between you like a veil—until finally, his steady voice breaks the silence.“…You’re late. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
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