Chapter Text
It wasn’t a hard fight. Actually, it was a rather easy one. Because while there were many of them, they were all minor demons.
The only hard part is standing in the ruins of yet another village Giyuu has been too late to save. Even after all these years, he still feels sick at the sight of the corpses scattered around him.
Trying to empty his mind as best he can, Giyuu sheathes his sword. Distancing himself from his emotions has become harder and harder over the past two years—which is definitely the fault of all those brats who keep following him around.
Admittedly, very adorable brats.
The weeping that rips Giyuu out of his thoughts is faint and weak.
For a second, he thinks it’s another demon, and his hand goes automatically to his sword—but he can sense no danger. There’s nothing here that wants him dead.
He kind of wishes there was. Because the other option implies not only socializing, but socializing with someone in emotional distress.
Not exactly his strong suit.
He sighs deeply before starting toward the noise. Now that he’s focused on it, it’s clear it comes from the third house on his right—an old shack with ivy climbing the walls. If it weren’t for the blood splattered across the entry, it’s the kind of house Kanroji would probably describe as cute. At least, Giyuu thinks she would.
The door is completely torn off its hinges. Giyuu still goes to the trouble of knocking as he steps inside, muttering a quiet,
“Hello.”
The crying stops for a heartbeat—then returns, even louder. And Giyuu realizes this isn’t the crying of a grown person. It’s too high, too fragile.
Just his luck. Well, at least this probably means he won’t have to talk. Much.
Straightening up, he walks farther into the house, following the sound that grows louder with every step.
He finds the child in what used to be the kitchen, hidden in a cabinet and wrapped in several cloths. It’s young. Younger than any child Giyuu knows. A year old at most, if he had to guess.
It looks up at him with wide eyes when he opens the cabinet, and the crying stops. They stare at each other—the toddler in open curiosity and Giyuu in open fear.
He wishes—honestly, for both their sakes—that someone else had found the kid. Anyone else would be better.
…Well, maybe not everyone. Maybe not Shinazugawa. But aside from him, everyone.
Still, Giyuu does his best and offers the baby one of his rare smiles—the one people always tell him looks creepy. But no one ever managed to explain what exactly he’s doing wrong, so it’s the best he’s got.
Also, can babies even understand expressions yet? Or is that something that comes with age?
Hell, how would Giyuu know? It’s not like he remembers being one year old.
The baby giggles anyway, so whether it understands smiles or not, it clearly doesn’t find him too creepy.
“Hello,” Giyuu says slowly—people talk to babies, right?—“I’m Tomioka. Or I guess you could call me Giyuu… if you could call me anything, that is.”
He halts. The baby blinks up at him.
“Your family is dead,” Giyuu continues, “so… I’m gonna take you with me. I’d offer you a better option, but I’m afraid there isn’t one at the moment.”
Another two blinks. No crying. So either this is the most cold-hearted child in the world, or it’s still pre-verbal.
As slowly and cautiously as he can Giyuu lifts the toddler out of the cabinet who makes grabby hands as soon as it understands his attempt.
He holds it just a bit awkwardly with both his hands under its arms and their staring continues.
Now outside the cabinet and in the light Giyuu can see that the toddler has light red hair and green eyes that seem too big for its face.
Giyuu swallows
He’s not a big person. Actually – if his colleagues are to believed – he’s rather short for a Hashira. Still, the baby looks impossibly small in his hands.
And this is horrible. He’s the last person who should be responsible for a child.
Or well another child.
And this one is even younger than Nezuko, who at least always had her brother.
His new find has no one.
He whines, very unbefitting for his position.
Why always him?
//
The baby starts crying as soon as Giyuu starts running. But if he wants to reach the Water Estate before sundown, he can’t slow down.
And he really doesn’t want to find out how good he is at multitasking when it comes to fighting and baby-carrying.
So, he starts singing. Low and wordless—okay, maybe it’s more of a hum, but he’s pretty sure that’s something parents do to calm their children, right?
The baby must either like his voice or realize how exhausted it is, because after a few hundred meters the crying stops—replaced by soft snoring and a smear of spit on Giyuu’s uniform.
Great.
//
Giyuu’s home isn’t exactly child-friendly. Or friendly at all, really. It’s undecorated, unfurnished, and—honestly—pretty cold.
But it’s not like he started his day intending to bring a child home.
Normally, Giyuu would walk in, collapse onto his single futon, and then, after a few hours of questioning the point of his existence, finally fall asleep.
Not tonight.
Instead, he digs up the last of his potatoes, mashes them into a rough purée, and hopes the baby isn’t too picky.
The child doesn’t seem to be—judging by the way it devours the food—but it turns out that feeding a toddler with chopsticks is harder than any demon fight he’s ever had. Giyuu gives up fast, searches through the drawers, and finds the single spoon in his entire household.
Feeding goes much smoother after that.
After that spectacle, he decides the child needs a bath and clean clothes. So he washes it—something the baby seems to enjoy, if the loud giggling is anything to go by—and then wraps it in one of his older haoris.
And that’s where the little knowledge Giyuu has about childcare ends. So he just sits down on his futon, the baby bundled in his arms, and goes back to staring.
Apparently, that bores the baby. Because it doesn’t take long before she—after the bath, Giyuu had at least managed to determine the gender—starts tugging at his hair. Fast. And far stronger than should be possible for such a tiny being. By the time he reacts, she’s already ripped out several strands.
She laughs at his outcry—more out of shock than pain—and he glares at her. Of course. Obviously, the child he finds would be a sadist. And that’s before even reaching the double digits.
“Don’t do that,” he snaps, which doesn’t seem to impress the baby much. She immediately tugs at his hair again—though a little softer this time.
“Stop that,” he tries again, but he doesn’t actually do anything when she keeps playing with his hair—sometimes gentle, sometimes not.
At least she’s entertained.
With a sigh, he lies down, the baby resting on his chest. He doesn’t have another futon—or anything else for her to sleep in.
And without him as a source of warmth, it would be a bit too cold anyway.
Tonight, this will have to do. And tomorrow…
Tomorrow, this—she—will hopefully be someone else’s problem.
//
The next morning, Giyuu isn’t woken by the sun. He isn’t even woken by baby wailing.
No, instead, he’s woken by a loud—far too loud—“Giyuu-san!”
Or, more precisely, three loud “Giyuu-san!”s.
And then, because apparently no one respects him—why did he ever think the baby would?—the door to his sleeping room is thrown open, and in the doorway stand three teenagers, all panting like they’ve just run a marathon.
Tanjirou’s smile is bright and, frankly, disturbing for this hour of the day. Zenitsu’s smile is less wide but still clearly there, and Inosuke… well, Inosuke is wearing his boar mask, so his expression is anyone’s guess.
Anyway, they don’t look like they need his immediate help because the world is ending—so they most definitely don’t have a plausible reason to be standing in his bedroom.
He looks up at them, glaring as best as he can to make them disappear again. Wordlessly as possible.
And then the Baby starts to cry. Loud and demanding.
If it weren’t such an annoying situation it would be funny how all boy’s eyes widen at the same time. Well, Giyuu at least suspects Inosuke’s eyes are widening too.
“Giyuu-san”, Tanjirou stammers, eyes now on the little bundle in Giyuu’s arms, “is that… is that a child?!”
Beside him Zenitsu gasps: “You have a child?” Then even louder: “You have a wife?!”
Giving up on getting even just another second of sleep Giyuu sits up slowly, careful with the baby in his arms. She’s still crying so he clumsily rocks her in his arms and make soft shushing noises.
“No, I do not have a wife”, he sighs, “or a child.”
When would he even have time for that?
“Then.. the stork brought the baby to the wrong house tonight?”, Inosuke asks – sounding way to certain about this assessment.
Giyuu blinks at him. This is one of those times he’s unsure if someone’s making a joke or not. He fears it’s not. Maybe he should give them a lesson on human biology between the training.
“I don’t think that’s it”, Tanjirou says carefully.
“No. It’s not.” Giyuu stands up. “I found her yesterday on a mission. The rest of her village is dead.”
That instantly kills the easygoing mood.
“Oh…” Tanjirou whispers, eyes already teary. Giyuu really hopes he won’t start crying. He can’t handle a crying baby and a crying teenager.
To his despair, Zenitsu is already wailing. “The poor baby! She’s so young and innocent! No future beauty deserves this!”
Frowning, Giyuu tugs the baby a bit closer to his chest. The obsession Zenitsu has with the female sex is always a bit weird to him, and even if she isn’t his, she’s still a toddler.
Ignoring his mentees, he shushes the baby, who slowly calms down, grabbing at his hair again. Maybe he should start wearing it in an updo.
“Aww, you’re so cute together!” Zenitsu wails, still crying but with glittering eyes now. How can one person have so many emotions?
“Ehm, Giyuu-san,” Tanjirou says, “do you—do you know how to take care of a baby?”
“No,” Giyuu answers simply, then gives Tanjirou a considering look.
He had a lot of siblings, right? Some very young. He probably knows how to take care of a baby…
Giyuu shakes his head.
No. Because while he’s a hundred percent sure Tanjirou would be a wonderful caretaker, he’s also fifteen—already looking out for his little sister and carrying far too much responsibility.
“Then what are you going to do with the baby?” Tanjirou presses.
Giyuu shrugs, again carefully, minding the toddler in his arms.
“Find someone who knows how to take care of a baby.”
Like… Kanroji. She always wanted a baby, right?
//
Turns out, Kanroji does not want a baby. Or at least not yet—she wants to wait for the love of her life before having a child.
That doesn’t stop her from cooing at the baby. And then cooing at the baby and Giyuu together. And then at the baby, Giyuu and Giyuu’s three annoyances who refuse to leave his side together.
“Awww, you’re such a dad, Giyuu! You’re so cute together!” Kanroji sniffles—tears glimmering in her eyes. (Why is everyone so weepy today?) “You have to come inside so I can take a picture!”
Giyuu immediately wants to decline. But Kanroji resorts to unfair means.
“I have cake,” she says quickly, “and I could probably even make some carrot purée for the baby!”
So they end up at the Love Estate, eating—admittedly delicious—cake. And when Giyuu feeds the baby, Kanroji starts cooing all over again.
They leave the Love Estate two hours later, all of them probably a pound heavier and carrying three photos.
In all three, everyone is smiling—except Giyuu.
//
Next, they make their way to Rengoku. Tanjirou, Zenitsu, and Inosuke still follow Giyuu like three baby ducklings after their mother.
…
A comparison Giyuu will definitely never make again. Not even in his own head.
Like Kanroji, Rengoku is completely smitten with the baby. But also like Kanroji, he doesn’t want to take one in—not right now.
“My family life is far from perfect!” he declares, voice booming with tragic conviction. “So while I would love to help a friend—especially for such noble reasons—I must decline! There’s much I must work through before I can have a child of my own!”
He sounds so genuinely upset about it that Giyuu doesn’t press.
He really doesn’t want to know anything about Rengoku’s family drama. He’s had more than enough emotions for one day.
//
On the way to Himejima, the baby starts crying again. So Giyuu starts humming—which somehow ends with all of his mentees singing. Very loudly. It’s horrible for his ears, but it makes the baby laugh.
Well. You win some, you lose some.
Himejima is Giyuu’s last chance. There’s no other Hashira he could entrust a baby to with a clear conscience. The rest are all too mentally unstable. But Himejima is kind, gentle, and genuinely likes children.
Unfortunately, he also seems to have some kind of trauma involving them.
“I’m honored that you’d entrust me with this, Tomioka,” Himejima says, “but I already once failed to protect children under my care. I cannot… I dare not make that mistake again.”
Even more emotions. At this point, Giyuu might start crying.
Luckily, that’s when the baby decides his hair makes a good chewing toy.
“Stop that,” Giyuu murmurs, cutting in before Himejima can unpack his tragic backstory.
Obviously, instead of actually stopping, the baby just giggles. The utter disrespect.
Himejima chuckles softly. “It also seems to me the child has already chosen a guardian, don’t you think so, Tomioka?”
Giyuu is gripped by horror at the sincerity in his colleague’s voice—and as fast as possible, they leave the Stone Estate again.
//
By the time they reach the Ubuyashiki Estate, Giyuu feels like he’s aged ten years. He’s exhausted, the baby is drooling on his haori again, and his three students are still following him like a very loud, very opinionated parade.
Ubuyashiki listens quietly as Giyuu explains everything. When he finishes, the master’s expression is as calm and unreadable as always, but there’s warmth in his voice.
“I see,” he says. “You’ve done well bringing her here, Tomioka.”
“I was hoping,” Giyuu begins, “that maybe she could stay here. Or—anywhere that isn’t with me.”
The Master’s smile is kind, but there’s sadness in it. “I wish I could say yes. But the Estate is no place for a child—especially one so young. Too much illness, too much danger. She wouldn’t be safe here.”
Giyuu’s stomach sinks. “Then—what happens to her?”
“There are… homes,” Ubuyashiki says gently. “People who take in children without families.”
Giyuu has seen orphanages. Many over the years, always too full in a world where so many children have to grow up without there parents. The circumstances are never good. Sometimes the caretakers are mean and cold and when they aren’t there isn’t enough food and when there is enough food there isn’t enough money for clothes or playthings.
He stares down at the baby, asleep in his arms. Her tiny fist is curled around the fabric of his haori.
“Is this the only option?”, he asks.
Ubuyashiki tilts his head.
“No. It’s not.”
Giyuu stiffens. He knows what’s about to come and he really, really doesn’t want to hear it.
“You could still take her in yourself, Tomioka.”
The smile on Ubuyashiki’s face is as gentle as always, and his voice soft. Still, Giyuu feels as if he’s just been slapped.
“But,” he starts — a bit too fast, almost stumbling over his words — “I’m a Hashira. I don’t have time for a child. I also can’t cook, or have good social skills, or comfort crying humans, or—”
“We can help you!” Tanjirou interrupts before Giyuu can finish his very long list of misgivings.
“Yeah,” Inosuke says, “also you can’t be worse than my dad. I never even met him.”
Giyuu gives him a deadpan look. “What a big vote of confidence.”
Tanjirou gives Inosuke a light slap to the back of his head. “I’m sure you’re going to be a great dad, Giyuu-san!”
“I don’t want to be a dad at all!” Giyuu whines.
Zenitsu lays a hand on his shoulder and then says very seriously, “Sometimes you don’t want to be a dad or can be a dad, but you have to be a dad.”
Giyuu stares at him. “What does that even mean.”
“So, it is decided then,” Ubuyashiki says. “I’m sure the child will be in the best hands in your care.”
The look the man gives Giyuu is proud and warm, his mentees — as always — seem to have a steadfast belief that he can do anything, and the baby has started drooling again.
…
This is gonna suck so hard.