Giyu had to hide the way his eye twitched as they practically followed him throughout his entire estate, their presence persistent and unwavering. Quietly, he recalled how Tanjirou had acted similarly when he first arrived, determined to convince Giyu to train him. Giyu had caved back then, but today, he was resolved not to give in. He sighed inwardly, maintaining his composure as he turned to face them, his eyes briefly traveling down to their uniform before flicking back up to their face. He steeled his expression, ensuring they didn’t notice his momentary lapse.

When had their uniform become so... tight-fitting? From what he remembered, the uniforms of other demon slayers were typically loose and baggy, designed to allow fluid movement during combat. But theirs seemed almost suffocating, clinging to their frame in a way that made his fingers itch to gently undo each button, to let their skin breathe freely. The thought entered his mind unbidden, and he quickly dismissed it, a shiver trailing up his spine. It was wrong—improper. Thinking of another Hashira, especially someone he considered a close friend, in such a way was disrespectful. He was better than that.

But then, with a devastating jolt, he realized the truth: he was hard. Men had urges, he knew that, and it was natural—but Giyu had always prided himself on his self-discipline. Never before had he felt this way, never had he been so stiff from mere thoughts. He could see their growing concern as the silence stretched between them. How long had he been staring? He didn’t know, but he needed to leave. Now.

"... Excuse me," he muttered quickly, turning on his heel and striding into a room of his estate, sliding the door shut behind him. His heart raced as he moved to another closed-off room, his hands trembling slightly as he removed his haori. The heat in the room felt oppressive, and his fingers fumbled with his belt and pants. Why was it so hot? Why was his pulse thundering in his ears?

The image of them crept back into his mind, and his cock twitched in response, straining against his briefs. Why did they affect him like this? What was it about them that stirred such a primal reaction? Finally freeing himself, he stared down at his length, embarrassed by how visibly aroused he was. If he could just take care of this quickly, he reasoned, he could regain control and face them again without shame.

Wrapping his rough, calloused hand around his cock, he was surprised by how good even that simple touch felt. For a fleeting moment, he dared to imagine what their hands would feel like wrapped around him, their touch soft and deliberate. Slowly stroking himself, he leaned against the wall, biting his lower lip to stifle any sounds. It would only take a moment, he told himself, but the thought of them lingered, fueling his desire with an intensity he couldn’t ignore.