Archive of Our Own ^beta

There is a lake near where Giyuu lives.

It is deep. Giyuu gathers a couple thousand feet, maybe more. He has sat by it before, throwing stones and watching them sink down into the murky deeps below. On occasions, he’d sink his legs into it, feeling the cool water against his skin. The water was always too cold to swim in, Shinobu was sure it would get him sick. So he never did.

But Giyuu couldn’t help but throw stones into it. His stones never skipped, simply sinking it from the throw. They would plop, then fall into the murky water below. It was boring to most, but Giyuu found some enjoyment from it. He always felt strange envy towards the stones. In a lot of ways, Giyuu felt heavy like one himself. Just waiting to be thrown into the water. To sink. He would never say it out loud to anyone. Not even to Tanjiro. But giyuu decided, one day, this would be a perfect place to die.

Giyuu didn’t exactly make plans for it. He didn’t pick a date or plot it out step by step. Just that one day, he would put his sword and haori next to the lake, and fall. The water would envelope him and then that would be that. Giyuu decides that, before that, he should at least leave everyone with pleasant memories.

It’s the least he can do, after all.

Shinobu is first, he decides. Out of all the hashira, Giyuu would consider her his closest friend. She could be venomous when she wanted to be, but she was never hostile with him. She reminded Giyuu a lot of his sister, if he was honest. Giyuu wonders if they’d get along, but quickly shakes his head. No need to dwell on that. Giyuu walks to the butterfly mansion, humming to himself as he walks. Shinobu’s home always brought an aura of calmness, he should visit it more often.

Well, he would. Maybe another time. He reaches the door, greeting Aoi with a polite bow. “Is Kocho-san home?” he asks.

Aoi nods. “She’s in her office, but she is busy,” she warns him. He gives a small nod, utters a small thanks, and walks. He can hear the sound of the butterfly girl's footsteps, working hard to keep the place in order. He doesn’t hear Tanjiro or any of his friends, and he’s a little thankful for it. Right now, he wants to focus on Shinobu. He peeks into her office, watching her work. Shinobu is a well oiled machine, her focus much stronger than his at times. Sometimes he ended up more zoned out than anything.

“Shinobu?” he finally says. She jumps a little, clearly so in the zone that he threw her off. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Oh, Tomioka,” she flashes a small smile at him. “You’re fine, if anything you did me a favor. This kanji started looking all the same after a while.” she laughs. “What can I help you with? Is it a mission?”

Giyuu shakes his head no. “No, nothing like that. Just uh …” he shifts, moving his haori to reveal the basket he brought along. “..Are you hungry?”

She blinks at him, purple eyes wide. “A picnic?” she asks. He nods. She purses her lips. He can practically see the gears turning in her head. He doesn’t blame her. Up until now, Giyuu wouldn’t have done this for her. He honestly feels bad it took this for him to spend more time with her. Her stare is piercing, trying to think of any reason as to why he’s doing this. It seems she doesn’t think of anything, and Giyuu is thankful. She stands from her seat, fixing her haori. “Is there tsukudani?”

Giyuu smiles.

She leads him out into the backyard, sitting herself down at the edge of the veranda. He follows, placing the basket between the two of them. He opens it, handing her a bowl of rice. As promised, ginger tsukudani sits atop of it. Shinobu’s smile is small, but genuine. That’s all Giyuu wanted, if he was honest.

They sit there, half comfortable silence, half small talk. She talks of Kanao, he talks of Tanjiro. She speaks of funnier injuries she’s taken care of, and Giyuu tries not to lose his lunch. It’s only until she finishes her last story when he notices the orange of the sunset upon the grass. Had they been out there that long? Wow. Giyuu apologizes for taking her time, and she shakes her head.

“I needed this,” she tells him. His smile grows ever so slightly. She helps him pick up the bowls, placing them back into the basket. She walks him to the exit of the mansion. He turns, bowing goodbye, before beginning his descent to the water estate.

“Giyuu?” Shinobu calls out, his first name light and welcoming on her tongue. He turns to her, eyes wide. Her smile is so genuine it could kill him. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Giyuu feels a pang of … something. He’s not sure what, but something. With a small nod, he returns to walking.

Happiness looks good on Shinobu.

Mitsuri is next, Giyuu decides. Aside from Shinobu, she always tried to be kind to him. Giyuu always tried to ease her away from him -- she was too kind to a person like him. She simply didn’t deserve to deal with him. But she never stopped trying, always encouraging him and inviting him to spar or just to get food. He always turned her down, and it always weirdly hurt more than made him feel happy. Though, perhaps he deserved to hurt for said rejections. Who in their right mind would reject someone who was so nice? So kind?

He has many apologies to say before he decides it's time. He walks quietly to the love estate, fidgeting with his hands. There's anxiety this time. With shinobu he and her have spent more time together, they understood each other. He and Mitsuri didn’t do that, not really. What if she kicks him out upon seeing him? She wouldn’t, he knows that, but still. She wouldn’t be wrong for trying. He stands on her veranda, hands shaking as he gives the doors a small knock knock.

Okay, Giyuu, you still have time to run before she answers. He shakes his head. No, steel your nerves and breathe. Ding dong ditching is beneath you, plus it would be very hard to explain why you ran away from Kanroji of all people. The doors in front of him open quickly, met with wide green eyes. He blinks at her, her smile so bright he’s sure to be blinded.

“Tomioka-san!” she's so excited. She reaches out for his hand, holding it in both of hers. “What a lovely surprise! I didn’t hear about a mission or anything, is there something i can do for you?”

Giyuu feels his throat dry up. She is too nice, he swears. He clears his throat, looking down bashfully. “Do… do you want to hang out?”

She blinks, then tilts her head to the side. She’s trying to figure out if this is some sort of dream, he assumes. Once she’s decided this is without a doubt real, she squeals. She grabs his hand and nearly drags him inside, rambling on and on about things to do. Giyuu didn’t have a plan for her like he did Shinobu, just that it would be nice to be around.

They settle on letting Mitsuri do his hair. It wasn’t that Giyuu didn’t take care of it -- the texture would be too terrible to bare if he didn’t -- but he never did anything special with it. And, apparently, she’s been dying to braid his hair. So, he lets her. First, she wets his hair. The water and the soap warm against his scalp. Her fingers drag through his hair slowly, feeling for any knots. Then her comb follows, it’s pink and pretty like her. It flows through his hair like water, removing any knots and tangles. His sister used to do the same for him as a child, he remembers. Sitting him down and taking time to make sure his hair felt nice. The memory feels so far away, yet for a moment, he can pretend Mitsuri’s smile is Tsukato’s.

This time, he’s sure she and her would get along.

Once the knots are gone, she dries his hair the best she can. Then, she drags him to her vanity, sitting him down. “Now, Tomioka-san,” her hands rest on his shoulders. Smiling at him in the mirror. “Any requests?”

Giyuu thinks, then shrugs. “You have the reins, Kanroji-san.”

She squeals. “Please, you can call me Mitsuri.”

“Mitsuri,” he repeats, her name bouncing on his tongue. He nods, it’s a good name. “Then, you can call me Giyuu.”

Her smiles have never been that big before, he swears.

Giyuu finds it hard to stay awake as her hands go through his hair again. She decides on a braid, from what he can tell. She’s humming a little tune, rocking back and forth on her heels. “You know, I used to do this for my little sisters. I don’t get to do this as much now that I'm away.”

Giyuu hums. “My sister used to do this for me too.”

Mitsuris eyes soften. “She must’ve been great at it.” she doesn’t push further, she can tell just by the tense. They’re both talking in the past, but Mitsuri just has to take a moment to visit her family. Giyuu has no grave to return to. He shuts his eyes, a calmness washing over him. Just like Shinobu, he feels no need to force conversation. He can just sit here as she braids his hair and hums her songs. Giyuu can just be a person here.

After a while, she finally finishes. She pulls her hands back, motioning for him to look at it. Giyuu turns his head a bit, catching a glimpse in the mirror. His ponytail remains, but there are two braids leading down to it, a blue ribbon braided within it. It almost looked like a waterfall in his raven hair, which felt fitting. He feels the braid under his fingers, the softness of his hair a surprise. Mitsuri did such a good job, he almost looked approachable.

“Well?” she blinks up at him, her smile wide.

He laughs. “It’s wonderful.”

Her squeal hurts his ears, but Giyuu doesn’t have it in him to care. She walks him to the exit, telling him how to take care of the braid and the ribbon. “And if you ever want me to do something new for you, please come back,” Mitsuri grabs his hand again. “I would love to do this again, Giyuu.”

There’s that pang again, right in his chest. How strange. He gives her a small smile, then bows. “Thank you.”

She waves goodbye as he walks. He turns once more, waving as well, before he’s gone.

Giyuu smelled like sakuras all the way home.

Muichiro is a special case. He’s the youngest of all the hashira, closest to Tanjiro in age. Because of that, Giyuu doesn’t know how to relate to him fully. With Shinobu or Mitsuri it was easier, they were closer to his age. But with muichiro … he felt a need to think more. He wasn’t Tanjiro, he couldn’t do whatever he did with him. He rummages through his mostly empty room, coming up just as empty. That is, until he spots something.

An origami crane, one Tanjiro had made for him.

Giyuu blinks. Maybe there was something he could do for him.

Instead of finding Muichiro, he sends his crow out to bring him to him. Not before purchasing more origami paper, of course.

It doesn’t take too long for Muichiro to arrive at his estate, quiet footsteps on his lawn. Giyuu looks up from where he sat -- atop a nice blanket, near the small koi pond.

“Tomioka?” muichiro’s voice is as numb as always, but he can see the curiosity in those light blue eyes. It’s rare for anyone to get called to the water estate, let alone him. “Is something the matter? Did I do something?”

Giyuu shakes his head. “No, no,” he’s quick to reassure. “Sit with me, Tokito.”

Muichiro obliges, sitting down the blanket. His eyes darted to the origami paper, before returning to Giyuu’s hands. They work fast, creating an origami turtle in the blink of an eye. Muichiro blinks at it as giyuu hands it to him. He takes it in his hands, cradling it, before his gaze returns to Giyuu. There is a spark in his eyes.

“Teach me.”

He was going to thank Tanjiro before this was all over.

Giyuu isn’t a bad instructor, it seems. Muichiro catches on quickly to the turtles, then the cranes, the birds, the horses, everything. The folds are precise and perfect, and Muichiro’s smile is worth it. During his third -- fourth? He can’t recall -- origami cat, Muichiro looks up at him. “Has your hair always been like that?”

Giyuu had nearly forgotten about the braids. Knowing Muichiro’s poor memory, he probably did too. “Ah, no,” Giyuu’s hand fidgets with the ponytail. “Mitsuri did it. Does … it look okay?”

Muichiro finishes his cat, nodding. “It’s nice.” he compliments. “It’s different.”

Different is good.

“One more,” they’ve nearly wasted all the paper, so many cats and foxes and turtles. But there was one more thing. He folds and twists the paper, creating a paper boat. Like before, Muichiro follows the instructions perfectly, creating a boat. “You catch on quick. When I was taught this, it took me a while.”

“I like to make paper airplanes,” Muichiro says. “This is the first time I've really dabbled in origami, though.”

Giyuu chuckles. He motions to the koi pond, shifting to put his boat upon it. Muichiro follows, letting his boat go as the two float around, stopping at the other end of it.

Muichiro’s eyes are so full of life, Giyuu is so thankful. Muichiro’s crow eventually arrives, letting him know of a new target in a new village. He pouts, and Giyuu gently rubs the top of his head -- much like Urokodaki used to do to his head. “I’ll put them all somewhere safe.”

Muichiro smiles, hopping to his feet. “You’ll teach me more next time, right?”

Next time. Giyuu’s chest feels so heavy. He gives a small nod, and that’s enough for him. “Thank you, Tomioka-san.”

The child leaves, a hop in his step. Giyuu sits on the blanket, eyes glancing back over to the origami boats. Giyuu’s has sunk.

He turns in for the night.

Gyomei is a tall, quiet figure. He stands the tallest out of all the hashira, and he’s often seen praying. Giyuu never liked to bother him, if he could. He always seemed so focused on whatever his goal was and Giyuu admired that. It’s why approaching him was so strangely nerve wracking. Gyomei didn’t bite, not unless deserved. In fact it was rare for him to snap at any of the hashira -- he was stern, but gentle. As if he saw the hashira as something more than coworkers at times.

The rocks beneath his feet alert Gyomei of his presence, the taller man tilting his head slightly as Giyuu approaches. This was a nice place, a bigger pond in front of them. The breeze hummed softly against the trees and the lily pads.

“Himejima-san?” Giyuu’s voice is soft, not wanting to surprise him. Gyomei hums a reply, patting the spot next to him. Giyuu sits down, hands folded in his lap. They sit there, silent.

“It is a lovely day,” Gyomei finally says. Giyuu gives a responsive hum. While he doesn’t like talking that much, he knows he needs to. It’s not like Gyomei can see him nod or make any faces. “Could you describe what it looks like to me, Tomioka-san?”

Giyuu blinks. Describe it to him? Giyuu’s no poet, he can’t wax poetic about how the day looks at all. But then again, Gyomei’s not asking for that. Giyuu looks up at the sky. “There’s no clouds. The sun is beaming, warm. There’s a slight breeze,” he looks back down. “The water in the pond is shining, the lily pads are floating … the water lilies have bloomed.”

“What color are they?” he asks.

Giyuu reaches out, capturing one in his hands. “Pink.”

Gyomei smiles. “Anything else?”

Giyuu fidgets with the flower petals, the thin petals weirdly soft against his fingers. “There’s you, there’s me.”

“And?”

Giyuu thinks. “And we are having a wonderful day.”

Gyomei pats the top of his head. “Thank you, Tomioka-san. That was nice of you to do.”

Giyuu blinks, unable to hide the small smile appearing on his lips. He releases the water lily back onto the pond, watching as it reaches the center, surrounded by other lilies.

“You should sit with me more often,” Gyomei says. “Your company is not as terrible as you might think, you know.”

Gyomei’s words hit something in his chest, adding to the strange heaviness in it. Giyuu simply gives Gyomei another hum, as he stares out into the pond, at the rocks that sunk down below.

They say nothing more after that.

Sanemi and Obanai were tricky. Giyuu would give really anything to properly be friends with them, to understand them. He always felt terrible when Obanai insulted him and felt worse at how Sanemi would enter a bad mood if Giyuu so much as arrived. His hands fidget as he sits in his room, thinking of anything -- anything he could do for them. It’s not like he could ask them for a picnic like shinobu, they’d say no. They wouldn’t just hang out with him like Mitsuri or Gyomei. And he doubts they’d be interested at all in an origami lesson. So what? what could he do, if anything at all?

Giyuu groans, landing on his futon with a heavy oomf. He looks up at the ceiling, blinking tiredly. His hand fidgets with the ponytail and braids in his hair, feeling the ribbon. He hasn’t taken it out since Mitsuri did it.

.. wait.

Mitsuri.

Oh!

He sits up quickly, reaching to grab some letter paper and a pen.

It was cheating, sure, but Mitsuri would know about Obanai’s likes and dislikes. If he can figure something out from there …

Let’s just hope Kanzaburo can deliver this letter without getting lost.

He would thank Mitsuri a thousand times over for the information. Apparently, sometimes, Sanemi and Obanai would train outside together. Occasionally, Muichiro would show up too. She told him where in a letter written with such cute handwriting, he was more thankful than words could say.

He fidgets with his braids the whole time, heart beating much too fast as he approaches where they normally train. Like before, he knows there’s time to back out. To run away, to hide.

Your company is not as terrible as you might think, you know.

Giyuu stops. Huh. weird.

He continues on, then. Closer until he can hear the sound of wooden swords, wind, and the hissing of a snake. Giyuu finds his eyes captivated by the sight of greens and purples, illuminating the dark sky. Giyuu sits down, hands folded as he watches. Sanemi and Obanai didn’t seem to hold back at all. If anything, their strengths seemed to match each other -- perfectly balanced. It shows their closeness.

They don’t seem to notice he’s there until they finally stop, heavy pants on both ends. It’s Obanai that notices him first, eyes squinting as if unbelieving. “Tomioka?”

Sanemi pauses, turning his head. Their expressions aren’t as mad as Giyuu thought they’d thought they’d be. They’re more confused than anything. “Hi,” he greets. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

“Whaddya want,” Sanemi’s gruff voice pipes up. He holds the wooden sword behind his shoulders. Giyuu stands, hands shaky as he holds up his own wooden sword. Sanemi and Obanai just stare.

“You want to join?” Obanai gets the hint a bit faster than Sanemi. “Seriously?”

Giyuu nods. “If … it’s alright.”

“Why?” Obanai asks, stepping closer. “Wanna show off how much better than us you are?”

Giyuu blinks. “Show off …?” he repeats. “I don’t … show off... do i?”

Obanai stares at him like he’s stupid. “...seriously?”

Giyuu is staring at him with wide blue eyes, expecting some sort of answer. Slowly, Obanai tilts his head to the side. “You really didn’t come here to brag or something?”

“I didn’t realize I bragged,” Giyuu replies.

“Seriously!?” Sanemi shouts. “The whole ‘I'm not like you all’ schtick? The fact that you never hang out with any of us? You never really take any missions with us unless the master forces you,” he motions. “You brag everyday of your life, dumbass.”

Giyuu blinks, eyes widening. I’m not like you all, I don't need to be here, the isolation and the quietness of it all. It came off as … stuck up. As a brag, like he was better. When he knows good and well he’s the opposite of that. They’re both staring at him, waiting for an answer. Giyuus grip on the wooden sword loosens as it drops to the ground. In a similar way, he bows his head down, apologetic. He can’t see Obanai or Sanemi’s surprised expressions.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to come off … arrogant, not at all. You’re both incredible warriors -- all of you are. When I said I'm not like you I meant that you’re all … stronger. You all deserve to be hashira,” he shuts his eyes tight. “I don’t.”

There is tense silence, all Giyuu can hear is his heartbeat as it drums in his ears. Obanai and Sanemi have every right to kick him out, to make him rot in that isolation. Instead, though, Obanai picks up his fallen sword. He hands it back to Giyuu, eyes now pensive.

Giyuu stares at him, blue eyes meeting yellow and blue in response. Then his stare flicks to Sanemi, the anger in his expression less prominent -- though, it’s hard to tell when Sanemi has resting i will murder you face.

“Get in position,” Obanai says, taking his place a few feet apart. Sanemi does the same, also in a battle stance.

And if either of them saw the excited smile on Giyuu’s face, they didn’t mention it.

Giyuu doesn’t know how long they're out there, just that after a while he finds himself panting as he sits down. His eyes shut as he breathes in and out. There’s a sting in his lungs and sweat drips from his forehead. But it feels great, probably one of the best spar matches he’s ever had if he’s honest. He hears footsteps, looking up and being met with Obanai. He holds out a gourd, full of water. Giyuu hesitates for a moment, before taking it. The water is cold as it goes down his throat.

Sanemi sits down on the other side of him, panting as heavily. He hands him the gourd, and the wind hashira chugs it down. The three of them sit there, in a comfortable silence. For the first time in ages, Giyuu doesn't feel tension around them. He feels almost relaxed. He glances over at Obanai, who is staring at his hair. Giyuu then glances towards sanemi, who is apparently doing the same. His face burns.

“I … should probably head back to my place now,” Giyuu’s voice squeaks out. He stands up, dusting himself off and grabbing the wooden sword he brought.

“Tomioka!” Obanai calls out. Giyuu turns. “You better do this with us again. That was too much fun to be a one time thing.”

Giyuu blinks, then nods.

“And Tomioka?” Sanemi turns, pointedly looking away. “The hair. It looks nice.”

Obanai nods in agreement. Giyuu is going to hope and pray to whatever god exists out there that they can't see how his pale face is burning red. He bows thankfully, and walks home.

That was much too fun to be a one time thing.

Giyuus chest keeps hurting.

He should visit Kyojuro’s grave more often. That is at the forefront of his mind as he walks through the cemetery, hands clutching his haori. He doesn't let his mind wander too far, but there is a pang of jealousy for everyone who was allowed to be able to bury their loved ones. It's quickly snuffed out by his empathy, no one deserves to have to bury them. No one.

He finally reaches where Kyojuro’s grave had been, spotting a very tall, familiar face.

“Uzui?” He says. The retired sound hashira looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Well, well! If ain't Mr. Water breathing,” Tengen greets. “Funny seeing you here.”

Giyuu looks down. “I can leave, if you want, if you'd rather it be pr--”

“Hey, hey,'' Tengen cuts him off. “I didn't say you had to leave. C'mere. The girls are busy today so I'm left with all this sake and food for just me and Kyo -- and between you and me, he's a very slow eater right now.”

Giyuu lets out a breathy laugh, covering his mouth. He walks to where Tengen sat, sitting across from him. Tengen pours him a shot of sake, and hands him a bowl of rice as well. Giyuu says thanks, eating slowly. He leaves the sake for later -- with the way Tengen downs his shots is quicker than giyuu could drink one.

“So,” between his bites of rice, Tengen points his chopsticks at him. “Do you visit Kyo often?”

Giyuu swallows. “Not…as much as I should.”

“It's alright,” Tengen replies. “I'm sure he wouldn't be mad at you. He'd say something like oh, I'm glad you're following your dreams and living your life to the fullest! Then he'd pat you on the shoulder too hard.”

Giyuu stifles another laugh, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his haori. Tengen definitely hears it regardless -- nothing gets past his hearing. “Dang, Tomioka. Didn't know you could laugh!”

“Hush,” Comes the reply. “Maybe you just never said anything funny.”

Tengen blinks, before throwing his head back in a chortle. “Wow! You do have a sense of humor! Where have you been hiding that?”

Giyuu reaches over and smacks his arm gently. Tengen cackles again, choosing to not comment further. Giyuu settles, now placing slightly with his chopsticks. “...he was always nice to me,” he says. “Rengoku, I mean. He was always encouraging … never pushed, never insulted me. He thought I was odd, but I thought he was odd too. We were odd together.”

Tengen stares at giyuu, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, claps his shoulder. “Kyojuro.”

“..what?”

“He would want you to call him Kyojuro,” Tengen says. “Not Rengoku.”

“I couldn't--”

“He was your friend,” Tengen sits back. “Just like how I'm your friend. You can call me Tengen.”

“I--” Giyuu’s mouth feels so dry. He chokes back the emotions, swallowing them down, trying to be hollow. “Tengen.” The name is strong and sturdy on his tongue. Tengen smiles. “Tengen and Kyojuro.”

“Wow,” Tengen cackles. “You are not at all used to that.”

Another smack. Tengens laugh echoes.

“Let's do this again, okay?” Tengen says as giyuu begins to leave. “God knows the girls would love to properly meet you -- and between you and me, Kyojuro needs more people to eat food with,” he whispers that last bit, as if Kyojuro was right next to them. Giyuu hesitates, then bows.

He walks off with the taste of sake on his tongue, and a throat full of words he didn't say.

He would not leave this world without saying goodbye to Tanjiro. There is no world where Giyuu doesn’t say goodbye, he would never allow it.

The villages they stay at often have festivals -- sometimes they’re big country wide events, other times they’re related to just the village. This time around it was the latter, a small festival to celebrate the origin of the village. Giyuu had asked Tanjiro if he’d like to accompany him.

Tanjiro looked ecstatic. It was always nice to find a reason to not be slayers just for the night. He let Tanjiro bring his friends and sister, praying for Inosuke to behave himself just once. The kids would run to the food stalls, wanting to try every last bit of the greasy street food. Nezuko found herself entranced by the sparklers, and Giyuu bought one for each.

“Thank you again, Giyuu-san,” Tanjiro says, watching as the other three run ahead to see more of the festival. “Especially for inviting Nezuko. It’s been a nice reason to get out of the mansion.”

Giyuu bites into his yakitori, humming. “It’s no problem.” and it wasn’t, really. Giyuu liked letting the younger corp members just be children. The laughter from Zenitsu and Inosuke, and Nezuko’s excited gaze … yeah, this was good. They find themselves settled somewhere in the fields near the village, resting on a picnic blanket as they await the fireworks above. Nezuko’s head rests atop of Giyuu’s lap, eyes closed with a smile on her face. Tanjiro rested his head on Giyuu’s shoulder. Inosuke and Zenitsu found themselves on the other side of Giyuu, laughter so loud it echoed in Giyuu’s ears.

He reaches down, stroking Nezuko’s hair, watching as she leaned into the affection. Giyuu looked back up at the sky, closing his eyes as the first firework reached the sky. The ooh’s and aahs of the children making a faint smile appear. When Giyuu opens his eyes, he’s met with a blue firework in the sky, sparkling and shining, before it disappears into the sky.

They walk back to the butterfly manor, Nezuko on Giyuu’s back as the other three walk, rambling about which firework was their favorite. Tanjiro hangs back with Giyuu, a warm smile on his face.

They reach the doors of the butterfly manor -- Shinobu is sitting out there, a cup of tea in her hands as she waves to them. It’s rare to see her in more casual wear or with her hair down, but it looks nice. Giyuu greets her with a nod, handing Nezuko to Tanjiro.

“Thank you for the invite, Giyuu-san,” Tanjiro says. “Let’s do it again next year.”

Next year. Giyuu gives a nod, bowing a goodbye, before walking away.

Tanjiro stares as he leaves, a confused expression on his face. Shinobu looks at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I .. don’t know,” Tanjiro replies. “He smells … sad.”

“Sad?” Shinobu repeats. “But he seemed … so happy.”

“He was,” Tanjiro sits down next to her. “But … when i mentioned next year it … changed.”

Shinobu presses her lips into a thin line. She looks out to where the water hashira had been.

Just what are you doing, tomioka?

The heaviness has been developing ever slowly. Maybe he was born with it. Giyuu can’t recall a moment where being light lasted. But the heaviness is particularly difficult today. He stands from his futon, staring at the empty walls, the space in his room. A deep inhale, a deep exhale.

Now’s the time, he guesses.

Rising from his futon, Giyuu walks to his living room. He grabs his haori and sword on the way, sitting himself down. He picks up a piece of paper and a pencil, and begins to write.

To whoever may find this letter,
If you’re reading it I am most likely gone now.
You will find me in the lake nearby.
Please do not worry for me.
This was for the better of everyone,
Including the demon slayer corps.

Tomioka Giyuu.

Weird. His hand feels shaky as he finishes it.

He glances outside, the sun had been setting, leaving a golden hue out on the grass. He leaves the letter where it is, walking outside. His crow looks at him from his perch, head tilted to the side. Giyuu reaches up, scratching under his chin. “Thank you for being so loyal, Kanzaburo,” he mumbles. “You can go now.”

Kanzaburo tilts his head again as giyuu walks away, into the nearby woods. His wings flap, sending the old crow into the sky. He turns, and flies in the direction of the butterfly manor.

Giyuu should feel something about this, he’s sure. But there’s a weird sense of calmness as he approaches the lake. Maybe it was acceptance. He doesn’t know. Is this how people feel before they die? This weird acceptance? Is this how his sister felt? How Sabito felt? How Makomo felt? A strange peace, contentedness? He reaches the lake, sitting on his knees and glancing down at his reflection. He looked tired.

He is tired.

Slowly, his haori is removed and folded. His sword goes atop it, leaving behind just this evidence. This will be all that is left of him when this is over.

He stares at his reflection once more, frowning. He looks up at the sky, glancing as the sunset gives into the twilight. Soon.

He just … needs a moment.

“Isn’t it worrying?” Shinobu questions, pacing back and forth. Her hands can’t stay still, fidgeting with the fabric of her haori. Nearby her, Mitsuri sits, biting at her thumb in thought. Sanemi and Obanai aren’t far, each lazily sitting on the veranda of the butterfly mansion. “I mean -- Tomioka suddenly coming to all of us? Doing nice things? Isn’t it just … strange?”

“Is it possible that we just aren’t used to him being outgoing?” Muichiro is laying down on the grass, staring up at the sky -- now a dark color, the sun having set not long ago. “I mean -- if Sanemi suddenly grew a conscience, I think that’d be weird.”

“Watch it, toddler,” Sanemi retorts, not opening his eyes. “Those are not the same thing.”

“That’s different,” Shinobu mumbles, continuing to pace. “I mean -- a sudden picnic, hair braiding, origami lessons, sparring?” she sits down, leg thumping anxiously.

“There isn’t really a connection to any of those,” Obanai speaks up. “Maybe Tomioka finally pulled the stick out of his ass.”

“Iguro-san!” Mitsuri squeaks.

“Sorry, sorry,” he replies. “But I'm serious. None of us know what’s going on in Tomioka’s head--”

“Thank god,” Sanemi interjects.

“Shut up,” Obanai resumes. “Maybe he was just tired of being isolated.”

“So suddenly?” Shinobu asks. “It’s … a possibility.”

“I did think it was .. a little strange that Giyuu-san came by,” Mitsuri admits. “But it was just so nice to see him smile for once.”

“..training with him wasn’t terrible,” Sanemi admits.

“I haven’t stopped making paper boats,” Muichiro added, sitting up.

“It was nice to sit by each other,” Gyomei said with a small smile on his face. “It’s nice that he wanted to spend time with us. I don’t recall us ever doing it for him.”

“Because anytime any of us invite Tomioka places he either stays silent and broody or politely declines, depending on the person,” Sanemi pipes up, one eye open. “Seriously, i think you’re overthinking it Shinobu, nothing is--”

The cry of Kanzaburo is enough to shut Sanemi up. Shinobu raises her forearm to allow the crow to land on her arm. He looks sullen, head hung low. “Kanzaburo…?” Shinobu’s expression holds … something. “Where is … where is Tomioka?”

The crow doesn’t respond. Just quickly flaps his wings, and then flies in the direction of the wind estate. Shinobu breathes in deep, then runs. She can hear the footsteps of the rest of the hashira behind her. Good. she’s not sure she could do this alone.

When they arrive, Sanemi nearly busts down the door. They manage to barely avoid destroying the door in Giyuu’s house. Quickly, Sanemi and Mitsuri move to check any of the other rooms. Muichiro looks outside, expecting to find him. Gyomei sticks close to shinobu, a comforting hand on her back.

“Nothing in the rooms -- really, there’s nothing,” Sanemi returns, Mitsuri close behind. “Tomioka’s house might as well be abandoned, it’s empty.”

“I didn’t see anything either,” Muichiro pokes his head back inside.

Obanai glances around the room, eyes landing on a piece of paper. He picks it up, handing it to shinobu who nearly tears it from his hands.

“If you are … reading this letter,” A shaky voice, unbefitting of the insect hashira. “I am … most likely gone now.”

The silence is deafening. “The lake.” Shinobu drops the paper, running outside. “He might still be alive!”

Something in Shinobu screams -- you can’t take another sibling from me.

I will not let you.

Giyuu hits his reflection in the water. The ripples distort his face, some of the water hitting his face. Just get in the water. Stop waiting for something, nothing is going to change. Are you so weak that you can’t even die properly?

Giyuu balls his fists. He takes a deep breath, and leans to dive in.

“Now, most people take off a little more to swim.”

Giyuu stops. That voice.

Slowly, he turns his head to stare. Kyojuro stands there, a smile on his face. Giyuu swears he’s glowing. Giyuu thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Rengoku?”

“Kyojuro,” the figure corrects, sitting himself down next to Giyuu. “Tengen told you earlier to call me by name didn’t he?”

Giyuu bites his lip, then turns away. He stares at his reflection. “It doesn’t feel right to call you that,” Giyuu says. “I barely visited your grave.”

“You have a life to lead, Giyuu,” comes the reply. “You don’t have to visit me if you’re busy--”

“That’s the thing I'm not!” giyuu interjects. “I’m never busy -- whenever Mitsuri invites me for ramen, or Shinobu wants to sit and chat for a while -- I say no. I pushed everyone away and i …”

“And you?” Kyojuro asks.

“And I deserved it,” Giyuu finishes. “I’m unfit to be a part of this. Of all of this.”

Kyojuro frowns, tilting his head to the side. “Do you truly believe that?” he asks. Giyuu nods. “Giyuu, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You’re a survivor, a fighter! You’re flexible like the element you represent, you’re reliable where it counts. Sure, you hide yourself away, but you did it for the sake of others.”

Giyuu doesn’t dare look up at Kyojuro as he speaks, too many emotions stuck in his throat. “But I … I deserve this, don’t i? I’m wasting my time here as a hashira, as a person --”

“Giyuu, i don’t think you want to die,” Kyojuro cuts him off. Giyuu looks up at him now, meeting a serious expression on Kyojuro's face. “I think -- out of all the hashira -- you want to live the most.”

Giyuu’s chest feels tight. Was he right? Did he want to live? To have Mitsuri braid his hair again? To eat food with Shinobu? Make more boats with Muichiro? Enjoy the sky with Gyomei? Spar with Sanemi and Obanai? Visit Kyojuros grave and catch up with Tengen?

Did he want to watch Tanjiro and his friends grow up and live?

He reaches up to feel the ribbon and braid in his hair. Let's do this again. Each hashira wanted to spend time with him again, they wanted him around.

Giyuu doesn’t remember when the tears began to flow. Just that his lungs hurt despite never even entering the water. A sob rips at his chest, finally tearing the last bit of numbness he’s been holding onto. He wants to live. He wants to be alive.

His sobs are what guides Shinobu to him, her eyes widening. Giyuu was alive.

She barely has time to slow down so as to not accidentally knock him into the lake, skidding on her knees. She takes his face in her hands, the tears washing over hands. She checks him for injuries, finding none, and then letting out a tense breath of relief. “Giyuu!” her voice cracks. “Don’t you ever -- ever do that to me again, okay!? You’re not allowed --”

She chokes on her emotions, face buried in his shoulder. Mitsuri is the first to catch up with them, her own eyes watering. “Giyuu-san!” she cries, sliding down and joining the hug. Giyuu isn’t used to so much contact.

It doesn’t help when Muichiro joins in next, face buried in giyuu’s back. Then Obanai, who rests a hand on his head. Sanemi has a hand on his shoulder. And Gyomei, in all his fatherly acts, has himself wrapped around everyone as best he can.

Giyuu is stunned into silence, breath stuck in his throat (Gyomei may be squeezing too tight.) His eyes glance past the bodies around him, finding Kyojuro's warm smile in return. The flame hashira nods at him.

Then, Giyuu lets his eyes close as sobs leave him. “I’m so sorry -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers. Then, even quieter: "Thank you for finding me.”

He doesn’t remember much from the aftermath. Gyomei carried him back to his estate and laid him down in bed. Shinobu pulled the covers of his futon up to his chin, and Giyuu slept.

He doesn’t know when he woke up, just that he awoke to noise. Mainly, the sound of a gruff voice arguing with … someone. He sits up, tired eyes glancing around his room. The arguing from the other room gets louder, but that’s not the only thing he notices. There’s the smell of food, warm food. As well as … laughter.

He stands up, shakily walking to the door and making his way to the other room.

“To the right -- right not left Obanai, goddamnit --” Sanemi’s voice cuts through first. “Tokito, give us a hand with this.”

“Busy,” comes muichiro’s response.

“With what?” Obanai’s voice.

“Origami does NOT count, help us with the damn kotatsu!”

“I bet the table looks perfect, Shinazaguwa,” gyomei’s voice pipes up. Sanemi is silent, but Giyuu can tell he’s frowning.

“If you all keep arguing you’re not getting any of this flashy meal we’re making!” Tengen’s voice booms throughout his house -- honestly, it hurts his ears a bit.

“These pancakes are gonna taste so good and you’re not getting one itty bitty bit!” Mitsuri adds.

Giyuu walks closer, now seeing the scene. There was furniture -- actual furniture now. A kotatsu in the center of his living room, chairs out on his veranda. There are things hanging on the wall -- when had they done that? Sanemi catches him, nearly dropping his half of the kotatsu, much to Obanai’s despair. “He’s up!”

Muichiro’s eyes spark to life. “Tomioka!” he holds up an origami koi fish, excitedly showing it off. Giyuu manages a small smile.

“Giyuu-san!” Mitsuri calls out. He looks into his kitchen -- did they bring him more bowls and cups? He didn’t have some of those pans before, either. There are plates of food on his counter, too. “Just in time, me and Tengen have the perfect breakfast spread for you.”

Giyuu glances at Tengen, a wink (or is it technically just a blink?) met in return. “We’re still finishing it up.”

“Shinobu’s outside,” Gyomei says softly. “You should talk to her.”

Giyuu’s breath hitches. Now he sees her, sitting at the edge of his veranda, staring off into the woods. Slowly, he passes Muichiro -- ruffling the kids hair with his hand -- before he opens the sliding door. He closes it behind him. He sits down next to her, looking out into the woods as well.

“Giyuu,” she finally speaks. Giyuu felt that if the lake didn’t kill him, she certainly would. “I was .. so worried about you.”

Giyuu tries to think of a response, anything to say at all, and simply can’t. So Shinobu keeps talking.

“I was so happy, at first. You were breaking out of that shell, talking to us -- to me. And then Tanjiro mentioned your strange sadness and I recognized what you were doing.”

She turns to look at him, she is barely holding together the mask she tries to keep up. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “If i had known you were suffering --”

“You didn’t know because i didn’t reach out,” immediately, Giyuu stops her. “This -- what could’ve happened was not your fault, Shinobu. I promise.”

She exhales shakily, reaching to gently hold his hand with both of hers. “Talk to us. Talk to me, if no one else. Okay?”

He gives her a nod. “I promise.”

“Good.” Shinobu stands, he follows. “Tanjiro and his friends will be joining us after breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Tengen brought you a kotatsu, Sanemi brought you the chairs.”

“Alright.”

“Obanai said your empty walls are depressing, and Mitsuri painted some hearts on them.”

“That’s fine.”

“And Giyuu?”

“...yeah?”

Shinobu smiles. “Let’s have lunch together this week, okay?”

Giyuu smiles. “Okay.”

For the first time in years, Giyuu’s chest feels light.