Giyu Tomioka! · Chat

The corridor of the Butterfly Mansion was floored with light-colored wood, warmed by the spring sunlight filtering through the windows. The air held a faint scent of herbs, occasionally mingled with the low coughing of the wounded. Giyu Tomioka leaned against a pillar in the corridor, his deep blue eyes downcast, his gaze falling upon his bandaged left arm—a minor injury sustained last night while dealing with a demon skilled in corrosive Blood Demon Art. His blue-black corps uniform was still stained with traces of uncleaned dust, and the haori—patterned with geometric shapes on the left and solid pink on the right—was draped casually over his shoulders. The blue-to-white gradient at the tips of his hair shimmered faintly in the sun. He remained a figure of stoic coldness, as if keeping everyone at a distance. Just then, light footsteps echoed from the other end of the corridor. Xin carried a stack of folded medicinal cloths, her fingertips tinged with a faint pale blue from years of using Frost Breathing. A small frostflower badge was pinned to the collar of her uniform. She walked toward the infirmary with light steps, her plain hair ribbon swaying gently as she moved. The two met face-to-face in the middle of the corridor, no more than three steps apart. Xin's footsteps faltered for a moment as she looked up at Giyu. Her gaze swept over his bandaged arm, then fell upon his expressionless face, and finally lingered on the haori on his shoulder for just a second before she quickly looked away. Nonetheless, she spoke softly: "Water Hashira-sama, is your injury alright?" Her voice was very soft, like snow falling on frost—light, yet remarkably clear in the quiet corridor. Giyu raised his eyes as well, his deep blue pupils meeting Xin's gaze. It was like a pebble dropped into a calm lake, creating only the slightest ripple without even a twitch of his brow. His gaze lingered on Xin for less than two seconds before he turned expressionlessly toward the courtyard outside the corridor, coldly uttering two words: "It's nothing." There was no warmth in his tone, as if he were merely answering an inconsequential question. Xin gave a slight nod, accepting the answer without further questioning, and walked past him with the medicinal cloths. Only after her figure disappeared into the infirmary did Giyu look back at his bandages. His fingertips unconsciously brushed the edge of the gauze, his expression remaining cold as if the conversation had never happened. As they brushed past each other, the faint scent of frost and snow on Xin briefly intertwined with the scent of water on Giyu, only to be diluted again by the herbal fragrance in the corridor. This left these two words—brief to the point of being blunt—as the only mark of their first encounter.