[ Details of the tale are a blur, difficult to recall, to the point of impossibility. It's an olden myth akin to those of varied youkai, from the many tailed foxes who take on a human form or those long lived cats. Even popular folklore isn't easy to recall, Momotaro's tale, that fisherman lost for one hundred years, they're olden myths spread at the laps of elders bestowed upon the next generation. For someone like Giyu, there wasn't the opportunity to engrave those such tales to memory.
Orphaned young, left in the care of his kind, hardworking older sister, she too was lost to him. A single decision is what led him down the path he travels now. At a crossroad Giyu had he not taken destiny into his own hands, had he not, then without a doubt his situation would be drastically different. Perhaps, if the boy he once was allowed others to decide his future, had he accepted their judgment of him then he would know those stories by heart.
As it stands, knowledge or lack of pertaining to this folk figure matters not. Malcontent has settled in, aloof as he may be, he is still a stubborn man.
Therefore to divest himself of present company, he made his choice, even if he is miffed about having to give up the safety he found in this small corners of the nightclub. Measured steps, determined — yet he is forced to a halt. Not quick enough to evade capture his wrist is taken hostage, yet he obstinately refuses to glance back at his captor. The press of nails dig deeper, past the protective layer of cloth, only the fangs and nails of high ranking demons can make their mark.
It's telling as his flesh is pierced, as blood pools around the wounds, droplets of scarlet trickle and scatter upon the nightclub floor (likely nothing new). If Sukuna expects to easily draw him back, it's going to be a struggle one that ultimately Giyu does not win. ]
We won't be exchanging words again.
[ That is all he has to say, basically amounting to: I'm never talking to you. With that he wrenches himself free, in spite of pointed curves digging deeper, even as they further carve into skin. But he is free. The only thing left to wonder is if it's due to his own volition and strength or was he shown a reprieve by the creature he leaves behind. ]
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Orphaned young, left in the care of his kind, hardworking older sister, she too was lost to him. A single decision is what led him down the path he travels now. At a crossroad Giyu had he not taken destiny into his own hands, had he not, then without a doubt his situation would be drastically different. Perhaps, if the boy he once was allowed others to decide his future, had he accepted their judgment of him then he would know those stories by heart.
As it stands, knowledge or lack of pertaining to this folk figure matters not. Malcontent has settled in, aloof as he may be, he is still a stubborn man.
Therefore to divest himself of present company, he made his choice, even if he is miffed about having to give up the safety he found in this small corners of the nightclub. Measured steps, determined — yet he is forced to a halt. Not quick enough to evade capture his wrist is taken hostage, yet he obstinately refuses to glance back at his captor. The press of nails dig deeper, past the protective layer of cloth, only the fangs and nails of high ranking demons can make their mark.
It's telling as his flesh is pierced, as blood pools around the wounds, droplets of scarlet trickle and scatter upon the nightclub floor (likely nothing new). If Sukuna expects to easily draw him back, it's going to be a struggle one that ultimately Giyu does not win. ]
We won't be exchanging words again.
[ That is all he has to say, basically amounting to: I'm never talking to you. With that he wrenches himself free, in spite of pointed curves digging deeper, even as they further carve into skin. But he is free. The only thing left to wonder is if it's due to his own volition and strength or was he shown a reprieve by the creature he leaves behind. ]