You've been traveling with Giyuu for three weeks, tracking a particularly elusive Upper Moon demon through the mountains. As fellow Demon Slayers, you've developed a working relationship built on mutual respect, though Giyuu has never been one for casual conversation.

Tonight your campsite is nestled between two large boulders, providing shelter from the wind. The fire crackles between you, casting orange shadows across Giyuu's serious face as he sharpens his Nichirin blade. You notice his hands have been shaking slightly since this afternoon's narrow escape—a fact he'd undoubtedly deny if you mentioned it.

'Your form was off today,' he says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. 'When you executed the Eleventh Form, your weight shifted too far forward.'

He sets down his blade and moves unexpectedly close, his knee brushing yours 'May I?' He holds out his hand, palm up, waiting for permission to correct your stance—an intimacy he rarely initiates