Chapter Text
Tomioka Giyū slams face-first into the dirt.
A rock bites at his cheek, and his skin stings, but it’s nothing compared to the pain searing through his side. He clutches at the wound as he staggers to his feet, and he tries to ignore the wet sensation of blood against his fingers as he takes in his surroundings.
The clearing is dark and empty. Giyū takes a step forward but has to bite back a pained noise as his foot catches on something, and he stumbles. He looks down to find the ground littered with debris: wooden beams, scraps of shoji paper, shards of a lacquered handrail. The moon is still bright in the sky, but Giyū can’t sense any demons nearby, even though he’d been surrounded by them only moments earlier, as the Infinity Castle collapsed around them.
He can’t sense any humans either.
“Tanjirō!” Giyū calls out.
The clearing is deathly silent.
They must have been separated, somehow. He has barely even a surface level understanding of how the Infinity Castle’s pocket dimension works, or what it would mean for it to collapse with people still inside it. Maybe he was the only one pushed out of the pocket dimension, and Tanjirō is still inside, fighting Muzan, or maybe the castle dropped them somewhere else. Giyū’s not even sure what prefecture he’s in, though, much less what direction to go to find Muzan.
The battle’s over, and once again, he’s done next to nothing.
Giyū’s side throbs and he starts to curl in on himself, sinking back down towards the ground. Pain clouds his senses and his concentration wavers, but as his knees hit the dirt, a soft ringing sound pierces the quiet.
Giyū stares down at the small bell secured to his belt loop.
Maybe there is one thing he can still do.
He reaches down to remove the bell from his belt, but his shaking fingers fumble with it. He takes his other hand off the wound in his side and tries with both hands, but all this does is stain the white cord red, the bell ringing insistently as he tugs at it. Finally, he tries a sharp yank, and the cord snaps.
Giyū cups the bell in his palms and looks down at it for a moment. Then, he closes his eyes.
For if you ever need a second chance, Ubuyashiki had said, as he’d pressed the bell into Giyū’s hands. The bell had been cold against Giyū’s skin. Use it wisely.
Now, the bell feels warm – and not just from the heat of Giyū’s palms.
Please, Giyū thinks.
With how many demon slayers have died tonight, if they don’t kill Muzan by sunrise, he’s not sure they ever will.
The bell goes white hot, and Giyū nearly drops it. He snaps his eyes open, heart beating fast in his chest, but all that greets him is the same dark clearing. All of the tension drains from him, and he grits his teeth as the pain in his side resurges, throbbing and insistent. He reaches to press his hands to his wound again and lets the bell fall to the ground.
What did he think a little charm was going to do? Turn back time?
The bell chimes once as it bounces and then rolls to a stop in the dirt.
“It’s dangerous to be out so late at night.”
Giyū snaps his head up and looks over his shoulder, towards the source of the voice.
There’s a man standing only a few paces behind him. Giyū’s pulse thuds in his ears as he wonders how he could have overlooked the man’s presence, when they’re in such close proximity. Is he that badly injured?
The man takes a step forward, and Giyū blinks as he realizes that the debris scattered across the ground have disappeared.
Moonlight glints off the lacquer of the man’s mask, and for a moment, Giyū forgets how to breathe.
The mask is bright white and shaped after a fox’s face, with pointed ears and a black nose. The lacquer is chipped on the left cheek, forming a scar which extends from the corner of the mask’s mouth up towards the man’s ear, disappearing into the man’s unruly, rust colored hair. Large, angular eyes stare back at Giyū, dark and entirely unreadable.
It can’t be – him.
It can’t be.
An unnatural silence descends upon the clearing again.
Then, the man strikes.
Finely tuned instincts are the only reason Giyū’s able to react in time, and as it is, he only barely manages to shift enough so that the man’s sword grazes his forehead, instead of severing his head cleanly from his neck. The movement jostles his injury, though, and he’s not quite quick enough to bite back the pained noise that escapes from his throat.
Just as quickly as the man had struck out, he goes still again.
Blood drips down over Giyū’s forehead and settles heavy and viscous in his eyelashes. His hands are shaking too badly – from adrenaline or shock, he’s not sure – for him to reach up and wipe the blood from his eye, and he’s about to squeeze it shut in an attempt to blink away the blood, but then the man reaches up to remove his mask.
A face that Giyū hasn’t seen in eight years looks down at him and twists itself into an expression that Giyū’s never seen before.
“I won’t ask twice,” Sabito says. “What kind of demon are you?”
“Sabito?” Giyū asks. His voice is barely louder than a whisper.
Sabito’s face contorts with fury and his hand darts out to twist itself in Giyū’s hair. Giyū bites his lip so hard he breaks the skin, and the only thing that cuts through the hot flush of pain is the feeling of cold steel pressing against his throat.
“I should cut that face right off of you,” Sabito says. His voice is low and soft, but there’s nothing gentle about it.
“Sabito,” Giyū tries again, panic building steadily in his chest.
“If you had chosen anyone else,” Sabito bites out, “you might have fooled me just long enough to escape. How dare you – ”
Sabito’s voice cracks, ever so slightly, and before Giyū can even think about what he’s doing, he presses forward and wraps his arms around Sabito. The blade of Sabito’s katana slices into the skin of his neck, but the sting is almost imperceptible in comparison to the warmth of Sabito’s body against his.
Giyū lets his eyes fall shut. He can’t imagine a worse way to die, but he also can’t imagine a better one.
Instead of beheading him on the spot, Sabito goes completely and utterly still.
“I missed you,” Giyū murmurs.
For a moment, all Giyū hears is Sabito’s breathing next to his ear.
“I’m not a demon,” Giyū says, after a beat. Sabito tenses against him, but doesn’t reply, so Giyū adds, “I’m not regenerating.”
“You have wisteria poisoning,” Sabito retorts. “I can smell it on you.”
“A…” Giyū hesitates. “… colleague gave me some wisteria for use against demons.”
Technically, Kochō had given them each a vial of wisteria-based poison strong enough to kill a demon with a single drop, but now doesn’t feel like the time to try to explain that.
“I made a wish,” Giyū tries, “on a charm – ”
“You expect me to believe that?” Sabito asks, his voice cold. The blade of his katana is still pressing into Giyū’s throat, and Giyū –
Giyū’s never been good at finding the right words, so how would he know what to say now?
“Then get it over with,” Giyū says.
For one, brief moment, he thinks Sabito’s going to do it.
Then, Sabito pulls away from him, and with a quick flick of his blade, he splits his own palm open. Bright red blood wells up against his skin, and he holds his hand out towards Giyū.
Giyū stares at it.
“Eat,” Sabito demands. “You’re hurt. You must want it.”
“I’m not a demon,” Giyū repeats, and Sabito makes a frustrated noise.
“Fine,” he says. He pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Giyū with a cold sort of fury. He studies Giyū carefully, eyes tracing the contours of Giyū’s nose, chin, neck – as if they’ll tell him something Giyū’s mouth won’t. He says, “I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.” A pause, and then, “If you try to escape, I’ll hunt you down.”
I wouldn’t, Giyū wants to say.
Instead, he asks, “What do I need to do?”
“Come with me,” Sabito answers.
With that, he flicks the blood off his sword and turns on his heel.
---
Blood drips down Giyū’s face.
The cut on his forehead has been bleeding steadily for however long they’ve been walking. The blood is making the eyelashes around his left eye clump together, and it’s threatening to make his eye stick shut, no matter how many times he tries to wipe it away.
The wound on his neck, at least, has stopped bleeding. His throat is starting to itch as the blood dries against it, but he doesn’t have the energy to scrape it off, and even if he did, he’d probably just end up reopening the wound. The cut seems to be shallower than he’d initially thought, but it still stings, and he can’t afford to keep losing blood.
He tries not to think about the throbbing in his side.
With each step, the gap between him and Sabito widens.
Sabito’s pace can hardly be called fast. Giyū can feel himself slowing as exhaustion sets in, though, and while he hasn’t had to rest yet, at this point it’s only a matter of time. His foot catches on a stone, and he stumbles.
“We’ll be out all night if you keep walking this slowly.”
Giyū blinks as he realizes that Sabito’s come to a stop.
Without turning around, Sabito crouches down and says, “Get on.”
It takes Giyū a moment to realize what Sabito means.
“Get on,” Sabito repeats, glancing back over his shoulder at Giyū. Giyū hesitates for a beat, and Sabito’s jaw tenses, but before Sabito can repeat the order a third time, Giyū positions himself against Sabito’s back and loops his arms around Sabito’s neck.
Sabito picks him up as if he weighs nothing, and Giyū tightens his grip on Sabito reflexively. He feels Sabito tense again, so he forces himself to relax, and a moment later, Sabito relaxes too. Sabito adjusts his hold on Giyū’s thighs, and Giyū lets the pain in his side distract him from the warmth of Sabito’s body.
It’s been a long time since Sabito last carried him like this. It used to happen all the time on Mount Sagiri, when he’d get a foot caught in one of Urokodaki’s traps, or tire himself out training, or catch a cold. For a fleeting moment, Giyū wants to press his nose to the nape of Sabito’s neck, to see if he still smells like pine and dried sweat, like he always had after a day of training.
Giyū keeps his head up.
Even with Giyū’s added weight, Sabito’s pace doesn’t slow much, and it’s not long before the narrow trail they’ve been following connects to a more well-maintained path. The flat ground provides Sabito with steadier footing, and without the constant jostling, the pain in Giyū’s side fades to a dull ache.
Giyū’s eyes slip shut.
“Hey!”
Giyū’s eyes snap open again. Sabito’s fingers are digging hard into his thighs, and he realizes his grip on Sabito has slackened, so he tightens it quickly.
Sabito comes to a halt, and says, “I’m putting you down.”
Giyū’s not certain he’ll have the energy to stand, much less walk, but when Sabito lets go of him, he slides carefully off of Sabito’s back. His knees don’t immediately give out, which he supposes is a good sign.
Before he can try to take a step, though, Sabito turns around and scoops him up.
It’s brusque, and not particularly gentle, and Giyū’s not sure if his head is spinning from the blood loss, the pain, or the unexpectedness of finding himself held in Sabito’s arms like some sort of princess. He stares dazedly up at Sabito and wonders if this is a deathbed hallucination.
“Now you can pass out,” Sabito says. Each word is short and clipped, and there’s a tightness at Sabito’s temples and the corners of his mouth. He takes a brisk stride forward and adds, “It’s not much farther.”
Giyū doesn’t bother to ask where they’re going.
It’s not long before Giyū’s eyes fall shut again. He drifts in and out of consciousness, jostled between the dizziness of blood loss and the sharp pain in his side, as Sabito moves quicker and less delicately. For a moment, he thinks he hears the thump-thump-thump of Sabito’s heart against his ear, but then his thoughts slip away from him again.
Finally, they come to a stop.
Giyū’s vaguely aware of the clatter of doors shifting in their tracks and then the creak of floorboards, but he doesn’t fully regain consciousness until the warmth of Sabito’s arms around him abruptly vanishes, and his back hits a firm, flat surface. He winces and manages to blink his eyes open, but pushing himself upright is another matter, and the best he’s able to do is roll himself over onto his side.
It takes him a second to recognize the room. It’s empty except for the futon that Giyū’s lying on, and he finds himself staring at the far wall for a moment, strangely blank in a way that seems off.
Not far from the blank wall, Sabito slides open the door to a cupboard, and Giyū realizes why the room looks so familiar.
They’re at the Water Pillar Estate.
The revelation makes him feel dizzy in an entirely different way from before.
Sabito rummages around in the closet for a few minutes and then turns back towards Giyū. He has a bundle of clean bandages in one hand and a basin in the other, and he drops the bandages next to Giyū’s futon and says curtly, “Can you undress by yourself?”
Giyū manages a nod.
Sabito studies him for a moment, but then turns and walks out of the room.
It takes more effort than Giyū would like to admit to push himself upright. He fumbles with his sandals and manages to get one off, but he’s still working at the knot on the second one when the shoji slides open again.
Sabito blinks at him from the doorway and then lets out a snort.
Sabito crosses the room in a few brisk strides. He’d apparently gone to fill the basin with water, and he sets it down on the tatami, before reaching out for Giyū’s foot.
“I can – ” Giyū starts, but Sabito cuts him off.
“This will be faster,” Sabito says. The knot binding Giyū’s sandal is already coming apart under his fingers, so Giyū doesn’t try to argue further.
Next, Sabito unwinds the kyahan from around Giyū’s ankles and pulls off his socks, and then he reaches up for Giyū’s haori – and hesitates.
“Even for a demon, isn’t this a bit much?” Sabito snorts. He smiles, but it’s grim and unpleasant, and Giyū averts his eyes before he can even register what he’s doing.
Sabito tugs the haori off Giyū’s shoulders and tosses it aside.
He makes quick work of Giyū’s jacket after that, and although he’s careful with Giyū’s dress shirt, it would be a stretch to say he’s gentle. Giyū clenches his jaw tight as Sabito pulls the shirt away from his wound, the half-dried blood making the fabric stick to the ragged edges of the gash and break open what little has managed to clot.
“The bleeding has mostly stopped,” Sabito says, as he inspects the wound. Giyū supposes it’s good he’s unlikely to bleed to death tonight, but it also doesn’t exactly clear him of Sabito’s suspicions. Sabito reaches over to dip a towel into the water basin and asks, “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“No,” Giyū answers, and Sabito nods.
Then, Sabito puts a hand on Giyū’s waist and says, “This may hurt.”
Without waiting for Giyū to reply, Sabito presses the towel to Giyū’s wound. The contact stings, and Giyū bites his lip, curling in on himself slightly. It brings them close enough together that their ears brush, and Sabito tightens his grip on Giyū’s waist, before relaxing it again. Slowly, Sabito’s thumb begins to rub circles onto Giyū’s skin, and Giyū feels his breathing hitch.
Sabito cleans the rest of the blood off of Giyū’s wound, but Giyū hardly notices it, too distracted by the feeling of Sabito’s other hand on his waist. Were Sabito’s hands always this big? He can’t remember. Surely Sabito’s grown since they were thirteen, but something about his touch feels familiar. The callouses on his hands, maybe.
The weight of Sabito’s hand disappears from Giyū’s waist, and Giyū lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Try to clean up your face while I bandage this,” Sabito says, and hands Giyū a fresh towel.
Giyū accepts the towel and presses it to his forehead. The cut there has finally stopped bleeding, but the blood around it is still unpleasantly sticky, and it’s hard to tell how much he’s actually getting off.
Sabito, meanwhile, applies clean dressing to Giyū’s wound and then begins to wrap a length of bandages around Giyū’s stomach, to hold the dressing in place. He’s even closer than he was when he was cleaning the wound, and Giyū shifts awkwardly as he tries to avoid bumping into Sabito.
Sabito’s face is so close to his, and for a moment, Giyū finds himself staring.
It doesn’t take Sabito long to notice.
“What?” he asks. His voice is curt and flat.
Giyū hesitates, then asks, “Are you the Water Pillar?”
Sabito blinks at him.
Then he scowls, and says, “Yes. So don’t think you’ll win against me in a fight.”
It’s not until Sabito’s expression shifts into something wary and tense that Giyū realizes he’s smiling. It must look unpleasant, with so much dried blood still caked to his throat, and he averts his eyes, instead looking back down at the bloodied towel in his hands.
Sabito is the Water Pillar.
Maybe this really is a second chance.
---
Giyū wakes slowly.
His head aches, and his eyelids are heavy as he blinks them open. Sunlight bleeds through the thin shoji, and for a moment, he considers pulling the futon blanket back over his head.
Before he can actually do it, though, his eyes land on Sabito.
Sabito stares directly back at him.
“You’re awake,” Sabito says. He’s sitting on the opposite side of the room with his back up against the wall, sheathed sword resting on his shoulder. The water basin and bloodied towels are gone, and he’s changed out of his uniform into a more casual hakama, but otherwise, he looks exactly the same as last night.
“Good morning,” Giyū manages, after a beat.
He supposes this means it wasn’t just a dream.
“How are you feeling?” Sabito asks.
There are dark circles under Sabito’s eyes, and Giyū’s distracted by them for a moment, before he remembers to reply with, “Fine.” Sabito’s eyes narrow, and Giyū corrects himself. “Better.”
It’s not a lie, relatively speaking.
Apparently Sabito finds his answer satisfactory enough, because he stands up and goes to open the closet. He rummages around in it for a moment, before coming up with a dark blue yukata, and then makes his way over to Giyū.
It occurs to Giyū that all he’s wearing are his undergarments. Last night, after Sabito had finished bandaging his wounds, he’d been so exhausted that he’d passed out before he’d even realized that he should probably ask for a change of clothes. At least it looks like he hasn’t bled through his bandages and all over the futon.
Giyū accepts the yukata. Sabito doesn’t bother to turn away, and although Giyū knows that Sabito already saw everything last night, it still makes his face go a little hot. They used to change in front of each other all the time when they lived together on Mount Sagiri, but there’s something different about dressing in front of this Sabito, who’s taller, and broader, and strangely unfamiliar.
Giyū stands up a little too hastily and his head spins, but he manages to maintain his balance. Sabito watches on, but doesn’t make any move to offer assistance, and Giyū’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.
Once Giyū has finished dressing, Sabito says, “Come with me.”
With that, he slides open the shoji and steps out into the hall.
Giyū follows.
As soon as he’s through the door, though, sunlight hits him full in the face, and he winces. The doors separating the hallway from the courtyard are open, and he’s surprised to see how high in the sky the sun is. It’s probably just shy of noon.
“I suppose this means you’re not a demon.”
Giyū looks over to blink at Sabito. His eyes are hard and unreadable, and before Giyū can try to explain his situation again, Sabito turns and starts down the hall.
They make their way around the edge of the courtyard. The estate looks almost exactly as Giyū had left it, down to the number of fish in the koi pond, and it should be comforting, but something about it feels wrong.
It’s not until they make it to the kitchen that Giyū realizes what’s missing.
“Sit,” Sabito orders. He jerks his chin to indicate a spot near the fire pit.
Giyū does as instructed and then watches as Sabito rummages around the shelves. They’re mostly barren, save for a couple of bowls and a ceramic jar, and this, too, is familiar to Giyū. The local tofu, fish, and other grocery vendors never bother to come all the way out to his estate, when they know there are more sales to be made at the well-populated estates of the other pillars, and if he has to go into town anyway, it’s easier to just find a restaurant.
It occurs to Giyū how quiet it is. His head aches, even without any noisy bustle to overwhelm his senses, and he tries to focus on Sabito.
He hesitates, then asks, “Where is everyone?”
There should be more people in the estate. There should be students training in the dojo and corps members coming to and from missions. There should be crows flying about delivering messages, and kakushi tending to the wounded, and merchants coming to deliver tofu, and –
And Makomo should be here. So should this world’s Giyū.
Sabito doesn’t reply.
Giyū’s gaze is drawn back to the dark circles under Sabito’s eyes, and he feels his forehead crease.
“You haven’t slept,” Giyū observes.
“Just because you’re not a demon doesn’t mean I believe you’re a human,” Sabito replies. He finally pulls a small paper-wrapped parcel down from one of the kitchen shelves and then turns back to Giyū. He adds, “I’m not letting you leave before I know what you are.”
“Someone else can watch me,” Giyū says, as Sabito walks over towards him.
“I’ve sent a message to someone who will be able to determine if you’re a human or not,” Sabito says, ignoring Giyū’s suggestion. “She’ll be here within the next few days.”
Sabito unwraps the parcel in his hands and pulls out a rice cracker, which he holds out to Giyū. Giyū’s stomach roils at the sight of it, but he knows he should try to eat something, so he accepts the cracker.
Instead of taking a bite, though, he says, “You should rest.”
“My health is none of your concern,” Sabito retorts.
Giyū frowns.
Sabito bites off half of his rice cracker, crunching it loudly between his teeth, and Giyū forces himself to take a bite of his own. For a moment, they’re both quiet as they eat, but then Sabito swallows and says, “So if you’re not a demon, what are you?”
“I’m a human,” Giyū answers, and takes another bite of his rice cracker. He manages to swallow it, but it feels dry and uncomfortable as it goes down his throat.
Sabito snorts derisively, and says, “Not with that face.”
Before Giyū can try to explain, Sabito stands up. Giyū peers after him as he heads back over to the shelves and pokes around in them for another few moments, before finally taking down a jug and two cups. He returns to his seat and sets the cups down in front of him, filling them with quick efficiency and then pushing one towards Giyū.
Giyū accepts the water, and says, “Thank you.”
He can feel Sabito’s eyes on him as he drinks it, and he wonders if this, too, is some kind of test. Once he’s drained the cup, he says, “I think I’m from another world.”
“Another world,” Sabito repeats. He sounds unconvinced.
Giyū nods.
It’s the only explanation that makes sense. There hadn’t been any demons near him when Sabito had appeared, so it’s not likely to be a blood technique. When he’d initially wished on the charm that Ubuyashiki had given him, he’d anticipated some sort of time travel, something to let him redo the last hour, or maybe even the last day. This Sabito is too old and unfamiliar for him to have gone back in time, though, and the pieces of the Infinity Castle that had been scattered around him had disappeared, too, which implies some sort of movement.
So he’s in a different, but similar, world. A world where Sabito didn’t die.
“So you expect me to believe that you’re Tomioka Giyū,” Sabito surmises, “but not the one I knew.”
Something about his phrasing strikes Giyū as off. He feels his forehead crease, and he hesitates for a moment. Then, he asks, “Where is he?” A pause, and then he clarifies, “The other me.”
Sabito stares at some blank spot on the wall.
“Dead.” Sabito’s tongue clips the word, short and harsh. “I killed him.”
With that, he stands up and turns away from Giyū.
“If you’re not going to eat any more, we should get you cleaned up,” he says.
It’s not a question, and Sabito doesn’t wait for a reply.
---
Like everything else in the estate, the bathroom is the same.
Sabito goes around to the outside to start the fire for the bathwater, leaving Giyū to undress. Giyū is under no illusions about being monitored, though, with only one thin wall between them. No that he has any particular desire to escape.
He removes his yukata and then looks down to inspect the dressing covering the wound in his side. There’s a little bit of red where he’s bled through the bandages, but it’s a dark color and probably not fresh, and he debates whether or not to remove them. It won’t be good to get them wet, but it won’t be easy to reapply them if he takes them off.
The door slides open and Sabito steps into the bathroom.
He freezes, so briefly that Giyū almost misses it, but then strides forward towards Giyū.
“Don’t touch those,” he tells Giyū, a little sharply. It takes Giyū a moment to realize he’s referring to the bandages. “I’ll remove them for you.”
Giyū doesn’t try to argue.
They’re both quiet for a moment, as Sabito begins to unwind the bandages. He works efficiently but carefully, and his touch is lighter than Giyū had expected. Giyū’s skin prickles with goosebumps in the cool air, and it makes Sabito’s fingertips feel that much warmer, even though Sabito only makes necessary contact.
Giyū suddenly recalls Sabito’s hand on his waist last night. It makes something in his stomach squirm, but it’s different from the nausea he was feeling earlier.
Once all of the dressing has been removed from his wound, Giyū reaches up to undo the tie holding his hair back and he winces as pain shoots up his side. He manages to remove the hair tie, but when he glances over at Sabito, there’s a frown on Sabito’s face.
Sabito dips his hand into the tub to check the bathwater and then says, “Sit down. I’ll wash your hair.”
Giyū doesn’t bother to protest. He’d rather not reopen his wound, and Sabito’s touch is not unwelcome, even if it makes his skin prickle with something he can’t quite describe.
It’s not until he’s seated on the small bath stool, though, that something occurs to him.
“You’ll get your clothes wet,” Giyū says, as he watches Sabito fill a bucket with bathwater. He pauses, then adds, “You should bathe too.”
“This tub isn’t big enough for both of us,” Sabito replies.
“We can fit,” Giyū retorts, his voice firm this time. He doesn’t like the tense set of Sabito’s shoulders or the dark shadows under his eyes, and if there’s something he can do to fix them, he might as well try. Baths are supposed to be soothing, aren’t they?
Sabito scowls at him for a moment, but then sighs and puts down the bucket of water he’s holding. He reaches for the tie at the front of his hakama, and something about the movement makes Giyū’s face flush with a strange heat. He looks at the wall instead.
Finally, Sabito picks up the water bucket again and comes over to kneel behind Giyū.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs. Giyū does as he’s told.
The water that Sabito pours over Giyū’s head is a little too hot, and it makes his skin flush pink. Sabito goes to fetch more water from the tub, and Giyū grabs a washcloth off a small shelf and begins to scrub himself down.
It doesn’t take long for the washcloth to turn red. Apparently the didn’t do the best job of cleaning up all the blood last night.
After a few minutes of scrubbing and a couple of rinses, Giyū’s feeling much less stiff and uncomfortable. His headache has also mostly disappeared, maybe because the water he drank earlier is finally doing its work, or maybe because he can no longer smell the metallic stink of blood clinging to his skin.
He stands up from the stool he’s been sitting on, and tells Sabito, “It’s your turn.”
Sabito doesn’t protest.
Giyū’s in the middle of refilling the bucket with water from the tub, when Sabito suddenly says, “What’s your world like?”
Giyū looks over to blink at Sabito, but Sabito’s back is turned to him, and he can’t see Sabito’s expression.
He considers the question, and then says, “Different.” Worse, he wants to say, but he hasn’t actually seen enough of this world to know if that’s true. At this point, all he knows about this world is that Sabito is alive and he is not. “My Sabito’s dead.”
Sabito’s spine goes tense, and Giyū wonders if my was the right choice of words.
For a moment, Sabito’s quiet, but then he asks, “How did he die?”
“He died in the Final Selection,” Giyū answers. He makes his way back over to Sabito and drops to his knees, positioning himself behind Sabito. He puts down the water bucket and reaches up to pull back Sabito’s unruly hair, trying to gather it together so that it’s easier to rinse, and when his fingertips brush Sabito’s ear, and he thinks he feels Sabito shiver.
He’s probably getting cold, sitting around waiting for Giyū to wash his hair.
Giyū dumps the bucket of water over Sabito’s head, and Sabito sputters.
“Tell me to close my eyes first!” he snaps, turning to scowl at Giyū over his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Giyū says, a little awkwardly. Sabito’s wet bangs cling to his forehead, and he pushes them out of his face, water dripping down his fingers.
It reveals a scar on Sabito’s forehead that Giyū doesn’t remember, and suddenly, all Giyū can think about is the way Sabito had said, I killed him.
“You saved me,” Giyū blurts out.
Sabito blinks at him. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes, and Giyū tries not to get distracted by them.
“In the Final Selection,” Giyū clarifies. He averts his eyes and looks down at the water bucket in his hands. “I was injured immediately and you protected me.”
He can’t imagine Sabito killing him. Even this Sabito, who’s so much rougher and sharper.
Sabito laughs, and something about it makes the small hairs on the back of Giyū’s neck stand on end.
Giyū frowns, his forehead creasing, and says, “You don’t believe me.”
It’s not a question.
“I think you’re not real,” Sabito replies. He doesn’t clarify what he means by that.
Sabito scrubs the sweat and blood off his skin in silence, and Giyū doesn’t know what else to say. Maybe Sabito’s right and this isn’t real, but Giyū can’t imagine what the point of it would be, then, to give him a Sabito who’s almost the person Giyū remembers, but not quite. Not in the ways he’d missed most.
Maybe when he’d asked for a second chance, instead of being reincarnated, he’d fallen into the underworld, and Sabito is here to judge his fate.
Once Sabito’s finally determined he’s clean enough, they go over to the tub. Steam is wafting off the surface of the water now, and Sabito dips a finger into the water, but withdraws it quickly.
“I’m going to douse the fire,” he announces, and grabs the inner layer of his hakama off the floor. His skin is still damp and it makes the fabric cling to his back in a few places, but he’s out the door before Giyū can offer to help him dry off.
Giyū stands awkwardly in the middle of the room and stares at the tub.
Then, he hears a caw.
When he looks up, there’s a crow perched in the open window.
Giyū feels himself smile, and says, “Kanzaburō.”
The crow cocks his head at Giyū, and for a moment, Giyū wonders if he’s mistaken, but then the crow says in a familiar, creaky voice, “YOU ARE?”
“Tomioka Giyū,” Giyū answers. It occurs to him that he’s standing around naked, talking to a crow, but he’s too relieved to see another familiar face. He considers how to explain himself, then adds, “I’m Sabito’s friend.”
Kanzaburō nods in what might be acknowledgement or might just be his usual tremors. It’s hard to tell.
Something occurs to Giyū.
“I need you to send a message,” Giyū says. He holds out his arm, and Kanzaburō shuffles a little on his perch, but then flaps over to land on Giyū’s arm. One of his wings hits Giyū in the face, but Giyū’s long since learned how to keep still while Kanzaburō tries to find his footing.
Once he’s steady enough, Kanzaburō looks up at Giyū expectantly.
Giyū pauses as he realizes he’s not sure who to send the message to.
“Is Shinazugawa Sanemi the Wind Pillar?” he finally asks.
Kanzaburō considers the question for a moment, and then says, “YES,” with more confidence than the pause should warrant. Of everyone Giyū can think of, though, he feels that Shinazugawa is the most likely to be alive and well. He can’t imagine Shinazugawa dying.
“Tell him to come to the Water Pillar Estate as soon as he can,” Giyū says. Maybe if there’s another pillar here to watch him, Sabito will finally agree to rest for a bit.
Kanzaburō dips his head in what might be another tremor but then lifts himself up off Giyū’s arm and flies back out the window.
Outside, Sabito says, “Kanzaburō?” but Kanzaburō doesn’t appear to hear him.
Sabito sighs and mutters, “That bird.”
There’s a reluctant fondness to his voice that makes Giyū’s heart beat fast in his chest.
Giyū hears Sabito moving around outside as he extinguishes the fire, but then finally, Sabito raises his voice to be heard through the window, and asks, “How is the water now?”
Giyū sticks a hand into the tub and says, “It’s good.”
He hears more noises as Sabito probably puts away the poker and closes off the hearth, and briefly, Giyū considers waiting for him, but he supposes there’s no particular reason to. He steps into the bathtub and lets himself relax into the hot water.
A few moments later, the door slides open and Sabito steps inside. His eyes land on Giyū in the tub and he goes still for a moment, but then he shrugs off his robe. It reignites that strange squirming feeling in Giyū’s stomach, and he sinks down deeper into the water.
“Move your legs,” Sabito says, as he comes up to the side of the tub.
Giyū shifts his legs to the side and Sabito gets into the bathtub. Sabito eases himself into the water and leans his back up against the side of the tub opposite Giyū, so that they’re facing each other. His ankle brushes up against Giyū’s side – the uninjured one – and as Sabito finds a comfortable position, Giyū feels his foot make contact with Sabito’s side.
Sabito reaches down to wrap a hand around Giyū’s ankle, shifting Giyū’s foot, and Giyū is suddenly, uncomfortably aware of what the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach is: arousal.
“Your face is red.”
Sabito’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.
“Is the water too hot?” Sabito asks.
“No,” Giyū replies, before he can think better of it. Who knows what Sabito will think, if he realizes the real reason for Giyū’s flushed face.
Thankfully, Sabito doesn’t look convinced by Giyū’s answer.
The two of them are quiet for a moment, before Sabito says, “Giyū would always overheat in the bath.” A pause. “My Giyū.”
The admission catches Giyū off guard.
He hesitates, then says, “I used to, but I have a better tolerance now.”
After all, when he was young, he’d always had someone to tend the fire for him and make sure the water never got too hot or too cold. After he’d taken up residence in this estate, though, there’d been no one to add kindling to the fire if it ran too low or douse it with a fine spray of water if it got too hot. Instead, he’d ended up with either a cold bath or a scalding one, and hardly any in-between.
He glances over at Sabito and finds Sabito staring back at him.
“Do you have a wife?” Sabito asks, abruptly.
Giyū frowns and says, “No.”
“A lover?” Sabito presses, and this time Giyū can feel his face flush.
“No,” he says again, quieter this time.
“Why not?” Sabito asks, and Giyū’s at a loss for how to reply.
“I’m not very good at talking to people,” Giyū finally says. It’s true enough. He chances another look at Sabito and tries not to get distracted by the dip of his collarbone, and says, “Do you have a wife?”
“No,” Sabito answers, and before Giyū can ask why, he adds, “I prefer men.” Giyū’s heart skips a beat and Sabito’s mouth twists into a mockery of a smile as he asks, “Do you regret asking me to bathe with you now?”
It takes a moment for Sabito’s words to register, and by the time Giyū’s mind processes them, Sabito’s expression has shifted back into something carefully blank. Sabito sighs and starts to get out of the bath, and before Giyū can think better of it, he reaches out and grabs Sabito’s arm, pulling him back down into the tub.
Sabito blinks at him.
They stare at each other for a moment, before Giyū blurts out, “I don’t regret it.”
Sabito’s face turns a fascinating shade of red.
He covers his face with a hand and mutters, “You’re definitely not real.”
Giyū’s not sure what that has to do with anything.
---
Giyū’s hair has just finished drying when Shinazugawa Sanemi bursts into the courtyard.
Giyū is sitting on the edge of the porch, sipping a cup of tea that Sabito had managed to produce from the barren kitchen, and before he can blink, Shinazugawa’s in front of him. He’s about to greet Shinazugawa when Sabito shoves himself between them, the steel of his katana glinting in the early afternoon sunlight.
For a moment, Giyū’s distracted by the beautiful blue of Sabito’s blade. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at it last night.
“What are you doing here?” Sabito demands.
“What am I doing here?” Shinazugawa snorts. He’s holding his katana loosely at his side, but it’s unsheathed, and he readjusts his grip on it. “The mighty Water Pillar actually deigned to ask for help, so I assumed it was an emergency.”
He sneers as he says it, and Giyū can practically see Sabito bristle.
Ah.
Maybe he should have explained more in his message to Shinazugawa. Then again, he’s found that if he tries to give Kanzaburō a message that’s too long, Kanzaburō ends up forgetting at least half of it.
Maybe he can explain now.
“Shinazugawa-san!” another voice calls out. “Have you found Sabito-san?”
“He’s here,” Shinazugawa yells back.
A moment later, Kanroji and Iguro come into view.
… three pillars seems like a bit of an overreaction, doesn’t it? Even if he didn’t phrase his message as well as he could have.
“Leave,” Sabito says, breaking Giyū from his thoughts. His voice is terse and curt, and he doesn’t put down his sword. “I didn’t call you here.”
“You little – ” Shinazugawa says through gritted teeth. On the other end of the courtyard, Kanroji’s eyes widen and she quickens her pace. Iguro sticks close to her heels, but doesn’t look particularly concerned.
Before Sabito and Shinazugawa can shift into fighting stances, Giyū says, “I called him.”
Both Sabito and Shinazugawa turn to stare at him.
“I borrowed Kanzaburō,” Giyū tells Sabito, and he hopes his tone conveys his apologies. Maybe he should have tried a different pillar, like Kochō or Rengoku. Considering everything that had happened in his world, though, hoping for Rengoku to be alive seems like a gamble, and he’s fairly sure Kochō’s the person who Sabito had referred to earlier, when he’d said he had sent a message to someone who would be able to determine if Giyū is human or not.
“Who the fuck are you?” Shinazugawa asks.
“No one,” Sabito retorts. He shifts so he’s blocking Giyū fully.
“I’m from another world,” Giyū says, and Sabito sighs.
“What the fuck,” Shinazugawa says.
Kanroji and Iguro finally make it over to Shinazugawa, Sabito, and Giyū. It’s not obvious, but their breathing is slightly elevated, and briefly, Giyū wonders if they’d run all the way here.
Is it really that strange for Sabito to contact the other pillars?
Then again, when they were younger, Sabito had never liked asking other people for help.
“Hello!” Kanroji says, and gives Giyū a bright smile. Behind her, Iguro crosses his arms and glares. “I’m Kanroji Mitsuri.”
“I know,” Giyū tells her, and Iguro draws his sword.
Before Kanroji can reply, Sabito cuts into the conversation. He’s addressing all of them, but he looks at Shinazugawa as he says, “See? Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy.”
Shinazugawa isn’t paying attention to Sabito, though. Instead, he’s studying Giyū with the same expression he usually wears when they spar - intent, and more calculating than most people give him credit for. Then, he says, “Tell me something that proves you’re from another world.”
Iguro shoots Shinazugawa a skeptical look, but the look Shinazugawa gives him in return must mean something to Iguro, because Iguro turns his gaze back to Giyū and waits for Giyū to answer. Kanroji, meanwhile, looks like she’s waiting for Giyū to say something exciting.
Giyū considers what to say.
Maybe if he’s able to prove that he knows them…? Not that he knows any of them particularly well.
“You like ohagi,” Giyū finally says.
Everyone’s quiet for a beat.
“Hm,” Iguro says, breaking the silence. “So he’s crazy.”
Giyū frowns. Was that really such a strange thing to say?
“Shinazugawa-san, you like ohagi?” Kanroji asks. She peers over at Shinazugawa curiously. “I didn’t realize you liked sweets.” She smiles and adds, “You should come to one of my tea parties! We’re having yōkan tomorrow.”
Giyū’s never been invited to one of Kanroji’s tea parties. He tries not to take it personally.
Shinazugawa ignores Kanroji and instead turns to Sabito to say, “Oi. What’s wrong with him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sabito retorts. “It’s none of your concern.”
“Well,” Iguro snorts. He eyes Sabito in a way Giyū doesn’t particularly like. “If the great Water Pillar says it’s none of our concern.” He turns to Shinazugawa and says, “We have better things to do.”
Once again, he and Shinazugawa do some sort of nonverbal communication that Giyū can’t understand, and after a moment, Iguro sighs.
“You’re not telling us something,” Shinazugawa says. He looks directly at Sabito as he says it. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is.”
Sabito tries to glare at him, but it’s undermined by the dark circles under his eyes. Briefly, Giyū wonders how long Sabito has been up for. He shouldn’t look this tired from missing one night’s sleep, even if it’s been compound by the emotional stress.
“Sabito – ” Giyū tries.
“He looks like someone I used to know,” Sabito says. He doesn’t look at Giyū. “That’s all.”
Shinazugawa studies Sabito for a long moment and then looks at Giyū. His gaze is unnervingly sharp, and Giyū is almost grateful when Shinazugawa turns back to Sabito and says, “I don’t know shit about you. But I don’t think you’d let a stranger into your home just because he looks a little like your old boyfriend.”
The word boyfriend makes Sabito press his mouth into a tight, uncomfortable line. He hesitates, then says, “He’s not a demon.”
“We can see that much,” Iguro points out dryly. Giyū’s still sitting on the porch, in a very nice patch of sunlight.
“But you don’t think he’s human,” Shinazugawa surmises.
“Is it reincarnation?” Kanroji asks. Unlike the other two, she still looks more curious than concerned. Briefly, Giyū considers giving her his tea. He’s never really hosted people, but he feels like he’s being impolite somehow, just sitting here and drinking his tea without offering it to anyone else.
“He’s too old for that,” Sabito replies. The tension is finally draining from his shoulders, and there’s something resigned in his tone. “The timeline doesn’t work.”
“If you don’t think he’s a human, then what do you suggest he is?” Iguro asks. He still sounds the most skeptical of this whole situation.
“I don’t know,” Sabito admits, and he sounds tired and frustrated, and Giyū wants nothing more than to let him rest. “I sent a message to Kochō. She’ll be here in a few days to examine him. There’s nothing for you to – ”
“Shinazugawa,” Giyū says. He doesn’t like interrupting Sabito, but he needs to say something before Sabito tries to send everyone away again. “Can you watch me while Sabito sleeps?”
Everyone blinks at him.
“That’s why you called me out here?” Shinazugawa huffs. Giyū wonders if he’s going to refuse, but then he says, “Fine.” He glances at Sabito and adds, “I don’t mind having people owe me.”
“Maybe I’ll stay as well,” Iguro says, and once again, Giyū isn’t entirely sure he likes the way Iguro says it.
“I want to stay too!” Kanroji announces.
Giyū wonders if he’ll be able to find enough tea for everyone.
Sabito’s face cycles through a number of expressions, from anger, to annoyance, to something almost petulant, but finally he says, “Fine. Do what you want.”
With that, he finally sheaths his sword and turns to head back into the estate.
“So,” Shinazugawa says, once Sabito’s disappeared down the hall. “You wanna tell us about this other world?”