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Chapter Text

When Giyuu fell into unconsciousness upon the propitious sight of Tanjirou and Nezuko – both alive and human , pulling each other into an embrace, he was awash with relief, with exhaustion, and with the overwhelming sense of thank the gods this is over .

It was all a blur after that. A smear of black Kakushi outfits, the white stretches of medical fabrics, even the occasional flutter of Nezuko’s pink kimono. 

The next time he wakes up and is conscious enough to take in his surroundings for more than a few seconds, he is greeted with the stark ceiling in the Butterfly Mansion. 

Faintly, he hears gentle birdsong outside the windows. White curtains billow in the cool wind, bringing in the delicate scent of fresh grass.

Head still heavy with fatigue, Giyuu slowly blinks his grogginess away. He tries to raise his right arm, but his sleep-stiff shoulder only shifts minutely and creases the bedsheet.

Oh.

Right.

He should be upset. He should even be panicking, perhaps. But his addled brain is shrouded in a numbness that comes with a comatose slumber, it is slow to catch up. Giyuu lies flat in muted acceptance as his mind gradually crawls to a realization. At least he does not need to pick up a sword any longer.

Giyuu tilts his head to examine the rest of his room. It is empty, meant for only one patient. 

From the corner of his eye, he catches an achingly familiar combination of red, green and yellow. Lifting his head to peer down more clearly, he sees his haori - fully intact - spread out across his body on top of his blanket.

Confusion tugs at him. His haori was torn beyond repair and recognition by the end of everything, slashed and ripped apart in the frenzied heat of battle. And yet - here it is, miraculously stitched back up into one entire piece.

With his remaining hand, he reaches for his haori, running his thumb across the mended seams in silent awe. Even he, who has been sewing it back together for years every time it tears, would not have been able to salvage it with the sorry state it was. When he needed to get extra cloth, it had been hard to find fabrics that exactly match Sabito’s side, and he was always quite particular with the texture for Tsutako’s side.

Under his trained eyes from years of patchwork, the colors and texture do not wholly match. An odd quilted combination of fabrics with individual origins weaved into one another. And yet, it is undoubtedly beautiful and complete .

Just then, the door cracks open, putting an end to his moment of astonished appreciation. He flickers his gaze over to the door.

Kamado Nezuko is inching it open with as much gentle quietness as she can muster, not realizing that Giyuu is already awake. He remains silent, tongue too leaden and sand-dry to push out a sound, and watches her freeze in shock when her eyes land on him.

“Giyuu-san!”

She rushes over to him, breaking into a tearful smile. “You’re awake!”

Giyuu nods, lacking the energy to do more.

Nezuko is undeterred, her smile only brightens in radiance. “I’m so glad. Aoi-san said your body needs some time to recover from everything, so you will be asleep for weeks, maybe even months. But I couldn’t help but worry and wonder when you will come around.”

Giyuu furrows his brows. “How…?”

“Around two months. I should get Aoi-san over to take a look at you. I will be right back!”

“Nezuko.” He calls out just before she reaches the door. She stops and turns around curiously. 

“What is it, Giyuu-san?”

Giyuu recalls the flash of shock and fear that flared in him when she appeared out of nowhere, crashed into a newly demonified Tanjirou and got herself bitten . He was too high on adrenaline back then to fully comprehend the fact that she turned back into a human. That she is standing before him, alive and human, is nothing short of a miracle and a culmination of effort and determination from everyone, but most importantly from her and Tanjirou.

He does not know how to verbalize all of that. So he only says, “I am glad. That you are here.”

Nezuko smiles, pure like cherry blossoms at first bloom. “I am glad too.”

Accordingly to Aoi, Giyuu has lost quite a bit of weight. It is not unexpected, in the past he had lost muscle mass before when he was forced to stay in bed after a bloody and gruelling battle. And with an ordeal as arduous as the battle at the castle and with Muzan, it has taken a lot out of him and his body has been working overtime to recuperate while he was unconscious.

And not to mention his right arm, or lack thereof. He mourns the hollow absence, and finds himself unwittingly reaching to grab something with a hand that is no longer attached to his body.

It is going to take some getting used to. He will have to learn how to write all over again, among other things. Aoi warns him of phantom pains, and offers some advice and medication to manage them.

“Regardless, it is good to have you back with us.” Aoi smiles in relief. It softens the weariness perpetually weighing on her face, worsened with the loss of her mentor.

Giyuu has not had the time to grieve over Shinobu yet, but he feels her absence like a lingering ache ever since he woke up. Before this, not a day went by without the sight of her whenever he was at the Butterfly Mansion. Now the silence from the lack of her teasing laughter and quiet footsteps is shy of closing in from all corners of the blank walls in his room.

Slaying demons is a dangerous line of work, so the death of comrades is not a foreign notion. However, the realization that she did not live long enough to see the dawn of a new day, free from demons forever, strikes him with a pang of something remorseful

The clink of wood and porcelain shakes him out of the thoughts haunting his mind. He looks up to see Nezuko bring in a tray of food, his first meal after waking up. 

“You must be starving, Giyuu-san! It might be a little bland, but you haven’t had proper food in your stomach for so long so we prepared something simple. Please bear with it for a while!”

She sets it out in front of him and carefully folds up his haori and puts it to one side. Noticing the curious set in his gaze as it wanders across his haori, Nezuko cheerfully replies, “Ah, were you wondering why it has been mended?”

Giyuu looks back up to her in confirmation.

“I mended it while you were asleep,” she regards the haori fondly, “I thought it must mean a lot to you, and Urokodaki-san said so too. So I stitched it back together in hopes that it will help you wake up faster!”

Giyuu’s eyes widen. His fingers clench around the blanket. “You…”

Nezuko must have mistaken his gratitude for upset, for she starts to bite her lip in apologetic guilt. “I am sorry I was not able to restore it to what it once was. It is a very beautiful haori, and I could not find the original fabrics to match its original elegance.”

“No.”

“Hm?”

He closes his eyes, feeling his chest swell with gratitude. “It is perfect. Thank you, Nezuko.”

Nezuko startles, staring at him in open-mouth surprise. But it quickly melts into delight. “I think this is the first time that I have seen you smile, Giyuu-san.”

Opening his eyes again, Giyuu raises his hand to his mouth. He hadn’t realized he was smiling. Nezuko beams right back and leaves him to his thoughts while she finishes setting up the tray.

There has been a question nagging at the back of his mind as she settles down on the seat beside his bed. “How is Tanjirou?”

He is met with silence. Peering up from his food, he notices Nezuko’s shoulders slump in worry with a troubled expression etched into her features.

“Onii-chan has not woken up yet. He is the last to do so. He has gone through a lot of pain and change during the battle, so it is not surprising that he is taking so long to wake up. But seeing him lying so still, it scares me a little.”

Giyuu sees the way her hands squeezed so tightly together her fingertips are digging crescents into her skin.

“Tanjirou will wake up. He has come so far, he will not give up after all that he has done for you.”

Her grip loosens. Renewed hope gradually lights up in her eyes which begin to well up with grateful tears.

“He has, hasn’t he? Onii-chan is strong, he has overcome many things. He will overcome this too.”

Giyuu turns her previous words over in his head. “He is the last? Who else has woken up?”

She tells him names that he is vaguely familiar with - the two boys that Tanjirou often speaks about, Shinobu’s Tsuguko, and the three remaining Ubuyashiki children.

Of the active Hashira, she only mentions Shinazugawa. 

Giyuu stills, the implications ringing in his head. “Shinazugawa is alive.”

“Yes. He woke up about a week before you did.”

“...And the rest of the Hashira?”

Nezuko’s eyes dim. She goes on to share more details about their deaths, albeit gently and carefully. But Giyuu only catches half of what she says. 

Shinazugawa and him. The Wind and Water Hashira. The only two surviving active Hashira.

Everyone else who is more talented and skilled than he is - Himejima, Tokitou, Iguro, Kanroji, Kochou — gone.

“...u-san? Giyuu-san?”

Giyuu jolts. He turns to Nezuko, who is staring at him in concern. 

“Sorry, I did not hear you.”

Nezuko shakes her head, a look of sorrowful understanding settling on her face. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to say I am sorry for your loss. The other Hashira, they must mean a lot to you.”

Giyuu is tempted to tell her otherwise. But he stops himself. He may not be close to them, thanks to his years’ worth of self-sabotage and self-isolation that distanced him from the others, but he has always respected them. The pinnacle of demon slaying warriors, extraordinary skills distilled in the form of the finest fighters that Corps have witnessed in this era.

Nezuko takes his silence as a response. “It is alright to mourn. Ever since I became human again, I regained my memories and had to process them all over again. That includes the deaths of my mother and siblings. It still hurts to think about that horrible day. The encounter with Muzan only came back in bits and pieces, but the fear and the pain —”

She shakes her head and folds her hands in her lap to quell the slight tremble caught by his keen eyes.

A quiet moment passes between them as Nezuko collects her thoughts and Giyuu patiently waits for her.

“We have lost many dear to us. All of us have. We are strong to have come this far, and that strength has protected us all this while. But that protection does not mean building walls around our hearts. Sometimes that strength also means living on with an earnest and open heart and having the memories of those we have lost enjoy life alongside us.

“They would want us to remember the happier sides of them, because that is how I want people to remember me as well.”

Giyuu stares at Nezuko in awed silence. His first memory of Nezuko - the strange, aggressive and feral young girl, overlaps with the figure before him and he reels from the massive change in character. The maturity that steadies the tremble in her hands and the warm smile she wears speak thousands about the journey she has been through.

But there is one thing that has been constant ever since their first encounter: Nezuko has always been brimming with love. For her family, she will go to the ends of the world to protect them. That was what stilled his hand in the first place. That was what prompted him to reach for bamboo instead of picking back up his steel.

“You have grown a lot, Nezuko.”

She jumps at his comment, shoulders lifted in surprise. At his unwavering gaze, she tucks in her chin and smiles bashfully, not unlike Tanjirou whenever Giyuu makes a rare compliment about his swordsmanship during their training.

His heart twists in something akin to fondness. There is something about the Kamado siblings that sets them apart from the rest. They can open hearts that have been closed off from the world, win battles once thought impossible, show them a reality never thought plausible before. 

This hard-fought victory would not have been possible without them, is what he truly believes.

Urokodaki pays him a visit soon after. Giyuu is facing away from the door, observing the blossoming trees outside when he arrives. But he can recognize his teacher’s footsteps in his sleep, so he turns in greeting.

He hasn’t seen Urokodaki in a long time and he is as he remembers him. His red Tengu mask is firmly in place, steadfast as the man himself. 

Giyuu never returned to Mount Sagiri ever since he left after the Final Selection. They only exchanged letters since then, and even that occurred sparingly. Back then, Giyuu had no reason to believe that his teacher would want to have anything to do with his last remaining student when the other one - better, stronger, smarter - was dead.

Even the letter to implore for his teacher’s mercy and guidance towards the Kamado siblings had been a gamble. But it paid off, inconceivable as it was. Despite that, Urokodaki’s concern spilled over in every word when they discussed their next steps on how to deal with the situation. Concern that someone like Giyuu was not well-equipped and strong enough to manage such an unprecedented phenomenon, that he is sure of. 

But Giyuu believes in Tanjirou and Nezuko’s strength more than in his own worth, so he disregards Urokodaki’s worries and puts his life on the line for them without hesitation.

“Giyuu.” His voice comes out in a gravelly rumble, and Giyuu feels the unspoken weight behind every syllable.

“Urokodaki-san.”

They remain in a standstill, both waiting for the other to make the first move. For Giyuu, it is out of respect, of guilt, of shame . Suddenly he is thirteen again, trembling before his teacher with his bokken shaking in flimsy arms.

Urokodaki takes a step forward and within three strides he crosses the room and into Giyuu’s space. Before Giyuu can react, Urokodaki wraps his arms around him and pulls him in for a crushing hug.

Giyuu stiffens, rendered utterly speechless. His teacher is not an unkind man, but he can count on his fingers the number of times he has initiated contact outside of training, meant for comfort and companionship.

“I had feared the worst, when they brought your body here in a cart.” Urokodaki mutters, hushed.

“I have lost many students, and I would not be able to bear it if I lost you as well.”

Giyuu’s throat tightens and he swallows down an uncomfortable knot threatening to surge up.

“I was not strong enough, I apologize.”

This time it is Urokodaki’s turn to stiffen. He pulls back to look Giyuu in the eye. Giyuu casts his gaze downwards, finding the floorboards a more compelling and less intimidating sight than the mask.

“What are you talking about, boy?”

“I could not stop Tanjirou from turning into a demon. I could not stop Nezuko from getting hurt. Not to mention so many others who died protecting me.” 

Urokodaki says nothing. Giyuu bites the inside of his cheek. “And I could not—I could not stop Sabito from running after the—”

“ Giyuu .”

He snaps his mouth shut.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes almost painfully. “None of that burden is for you to carry. And have you been truly blaming yourself over Sabito, all these years?”

Giyuu remains silent. That is an answer in itself.

Urokodaki sighs, in that exhale Giyuu feels decades’ worth of exhaustion and grief weighing in it.

“The fault should lie with me. I failed as a teacher to you - both of you. Sabito, and all my previous students, died because of a single demon’s personal grudge against me. And I could not pull you out of despair when you had lost one of the most important people in your life.”

Urokodaki hangs his head low. “The darkness that enshrouded you ever since you came back from the Final Selection alone… I have felled many demons in my lifetime, but one of my biggest regrets is not being able to help rid you of one that cannot be killed by a sword.”

Giyuu cannot bear to see his teacher so vulnerable, so broken. “Please don’t blame yourself, Urokodaki-san.”

He shakes his head. “If I am to wash myself off this blame, then you must too.”

Giyuu presses his lips together. 

He recalls Nezuko’s words to him. He wants to continue carrying the memories of Sabito and Tsutako, but not like a literal burden on his shoulders any longer. He has been learning to do that ever since Tanjirou broke down his walls and barriers with a reminder that had gotten lost under the waves of his own grief. He had a clearer goal to work on when Muzan was still a looming threat. Now that the king of demons is no more, he has almost forgotten there is more to life than just hunting demons. 

He makes his decision with little hesitation.

“I will.”

Urokodaki regards him for a few solemn moments, then gives his shoulders a firm squeeze when he is finally satisfied with what he finds.

“Good. Now, accompany this old man to the garden outside, will you not? The trees are starting to bloom and I would like to admire them for a while.”

Aoi drops by one morning with the usual tray of breakfast. Giyuu, mind already starting to fizz from inactive restlessness, is suddenly compelled to ask:

“Which room is Shinazugawa in?”

“It is next to yours actually.” Aoi pauses with a troubled expression. “But he hasn’t spoken ever since he woke up. He is eating the bare minimum and is moving relatively fine in his current state, but he refuses to talk to anyone.”

That does not sound like the fiery and hot-headed Shinazugawa that he is familiar with. He never hesitates to speak his mind, especially when something angers him. 

“Can I go see him?”

Aoi considers it, giving him a firm onceover. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Some light walking would be beneficial for your recovery, but please do not push yourself. As for Shinazugawa-sama, the sight of another Hashira might get him to start talking again, hopefully.”

Giyuu goes over to Sanemi’s room after he is done eating. It is quiet when he peers in. He spots Sanemi on his bed, propped up in a sitting position. He makes no indication that he hears the door opening, but Giyuu knows that a hardened warrior of Sanemi’s calibre would have noticed the approaching sound of footsteps before he even pushed the door open.

Trusting that the hot-headed man would bark out his protests as he is wont to do, Giyuu takes his silence as begrudging permission and steps inside.

Even as he stops at the foot of his bed, Sanemi continues to stare out the window in stubborn refusal to acknowledge him. It is widely different from the past where he would get up in Giyuu’s face, spitting insults in vitriolic anger.

“Shinazugawa.”

Silence.

“It is windy, but I do not think staring at it hard enough will get it to close on its own.”

Sanemi’s eye twitches, the first sign of annoyance. Giyuu takes it as an encouragement to continue.

“Kanzaki said you have not spoken since you woke up. If you have trouble using your voice, you need to let her know.”

The corner of his mouth twists, but his lips remain sealed.

“Tanjirou hasn’t woken up yet. I plan to drop by his room later.”

Sanemi’s fingers twitch against his sleeve.

Giyuu attempts to bring up Sanemi’s swordsmanship, something that the other prides himself in. “It was a good throw, when you flung the sword at me back then. You could have better aim though, it almost cut my left hand off. I would not have any hands left to hold a sword.”

Sanemi’s lips curl, enough to catch a hint of teeth. But even then, he remains silent.

Giyuu frowns. This is not working. Perhaps he should try a different tactic.

He thinks back to Tanjirou’s attempts at reaching out to him. Being persistent is key.

Bringing food also did the trick a little.

He leaves without a word, since he will be back soon. He makes his way to the kitchen, which is currently empty. He sweeps a blank gaze across the space, mentally visualizing how he should plan his next move.

He has only eaten ohagi a few times in his life. Not one for sweets, he has the vaguest impression of how it looks like.

It is not going to stop him from trying, however. If he is able to somehow convince Ubuyashiki that he is worthy enough to be a Hashira despite his abysmally lack of belief in himself, then surely this will translate into his culinary skills as well. 

With only his memory of ohagi as his mental recipe, he looks for the ingredients he thinks are used to make ohagi. He finds uncooked glutinous rice, raw red beans and sugar, and some pots in the cabinets and gets to work. 

Giyuu is not naive. He goes into this expecting there to be a few hiccups. However, his obstinate determination overestimates how far a fuzzy memory can get him. He adds too much water when he cooks the rice and it sticks all over his fingers. The red beans are slightly undercooked and take forever to be ground into paste so it ends up laughably chunky. 

Not to mention, with one remaining arm that he is still getting accustomed to, there is only so much Giyuu can do.

But it is done. A lone piece of ohagi sits on the counter. It is barely holding itself together. This will have to do. He puts it on a clean plate and makes his way out to his destination.

Entering Sanemi’s room again with newfound confidence, he raises the ohagi to Sanemi’s eye level.

“Shinazugawa. I have made you something to eat.”

Sanemi says nothing.

“I recall that you like ohagi, so I have attempted to make some.”

Sanemi ignores him, still. There must be something fascinating outside the window that interests him enough to withhold his usual outrage at Giyuu.

“Perhaps you can try it and let me know how it tastes. It is my first time making it.”

No response. The beginnings of frustration creep into the edges of Giyuu’s temper. He thinks back on what Tanjirou had done when he was trying to get through to the stone wall that was Giyuu. If it had worked on him, then surely it can work on Shinazugawa as well.

“Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa. What are you looking at, Shinazugawa? Shinazuga—”

“Can you just fucking shut up and leave me in peace? Go admire the sound of your own stupid voice somewhere else!”

Giyuu is not doing this because he admires his own voice, so he replies, “I cannot.”

At that, Sanemi finally turns to look at him. His eyes are burning with bottled up anger that had nowhere to go - and Giyuu is the unfortunate victim to bear the brunt of it all.

“You fucking—are you here to gloat, you piece of shit? Here to parade around, bragging about being all fine and fucking dandy cause you’re better than all of us?! Well, you don’t need to! Cause I am sick of seeing your damn face, I am sick of being stuck here, and I am sick of being alive – with you of all fucking people – when everyone else is fucking dead!”

Giyuu reels from Sanemi’s outburst and reflexively almost takes a step back. 

“You can tell the healers that I’m finally talking now! All because you’re such a damn pain in the ass! Are you happy now, you fucking freak?”

Giyuu takes in the sight of Sanemi, panting from exertion and anger. Even with his acidic words, the man before him is but a shadow of who he once was. Fatigue bruises the skin beneath his eyes, which are more bloodshot than ever. Fresh bandages are wrapped around his right hand, where his index and middle fingers used to be. The contempt that pulls his lips back into a snarl lacks the usual drive and instead makes him look more like an animal backed into a corner than a hunter narrowing in on his target.

Giyuu does not know what is going through Sanemi’s mind and how to close the gap between them. So naturally, he is not happy. 

“No.”

Sanemi bristles. “You—”

“Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi stops, but barely. He snarls at Giyuu, baring his teeth in warning. But whatever insult seething at his tongue does not pour out.

Frankly, Giyuu is at a loss. Words have never been his forte, and talking to Shinazugawa has always been a tried-and-true spiral into incessant yelling from one and uncertain silence from the other.

But he does not want it to end up like all their previous conversations. Despite all his challenges with interactions, he is aware that they are currently toeing on a delicate line, threatening to snap under ill-placed pressure.

“I am not good at this. Recovery…is hard.”

Shinazugawa frowns, but the hard line of tension along his shoulders softens by a fraction.

“I wake up to realize that we have lost many from the battle. We may have won, but not everyone I know has lived long enough to see it. And I do not think anyone who has survived is fine. But they are trying. Trying to live. To honor the memory and will of those they have lost. To find strength in those who are still here. I want to do it too. So I am trying.”

After his conversation with Tanjirou, he vows to never disrespect his memory of Sabito and Tsutako ever again. And after his conversation with Nezuko and Urokodaki, he promises to continue finding the strength in himself and from others to live on.

Sanemi stares at him, shocked into silence.

“That…is the first time I’ve heard you say so much at once.”  

“Yes. Like I said, I am trying.” 

Sanemi does not seem to fume at the sight of him anymore, so Giyuu takes the gamble and toes his limits further.

He raises the plate of ohagi in offering.

Sanemi sees the indistinguishable lump on the plate and pales. “What the fuck is that.”

“Ohagi, like I said.”

Sanemi sniffs in open disdain like he is being forced to eat rat meat. “And you expect me to eat that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

Sanemi narrows his eyes. “Fucker. Are you mocking me now?”

“I am not. You are not obliged to eat it, but I hope that you will.”

Sanemi shoots a glare at him, but he picks up the ohagi anyway. His eyes flit between the confectionery and Giyuu, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Giyuu’s expression remains frustratingly neutral, he lets out a bitten-back sign. With wary caution, he endeavors a doubtful bite.

Giyuu watches him with bated breath as Sanemi chews slowly like it might have been laced with nails.

“...Tastes like shit. Looks like shit too.”

Without missing a beat Giyuu says, “You have eaten shit before?”

“You—” Sanemi begins to snap back, but then stops. And suddenly—he snorts.

“Fuck,” he shakes his head incredulously, “was that a joke?”

Giyuu blinks. It was not, but if Sanemi believes that enough to find it amusing then he will not correct him.

“You suck at making jokes. You need to work on that, loser.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Damn you.” Sanemi takes another nibble of the ohagi and grimaces. “This is the worst ohagi I’ve ever had. If I didn’t know better, I thought you had set out to poison me.”

Giyuu notes the imperfections in his product. “I will make it better next time.” And he exits, leaving the promise lingering in the new, tentative space between them.

“Next time?!” He hears Sanemi shriek from inside the room.

The next day, he tries again. He adjusts the water used to cook the rice and red beans. Remembering that it was a bit troublesome to shape the ohagi with one hand, he digs through the cabinets for some wooden boards or other tools that can help him.

Aoi walks in on him brandishing a wooden block in the air and looks at him as if he has committed a heinous crime deserving of a thousand-year scorn. She prepares to chide at him, Hashira status notwithstanding, but he somehow manages to explain that he is making ohagi for Shinazugawa.

“Is that so?” She seems considerably placated after that, though her furrow in her brows is so reminiscent of the barely veiled look of disapproval worn by Shinobu whenever Giyuu ignores her that he is almost convinced Shinobu possessed Aoi from the afterlife just to deliver a final lecture. “Please allow me to help with some of the cooking then.”

“I can do it.” He insists.

Aoi purses her lips into a troubled line. “Then at least allow me to watch you make it. I cannot risk having the kitchen in a state different from what I am familiar with. I have other patients to serve food to.”

Which is a polite way of saying she does not trust him to not burn down the kitchen. Even someone as obtuse as he understands the implications. So he lets her stay.

Aoi offers some suggestions and pointers along the way. Thanks to her, his rice and red beans turn out decently cooked. She finds him a bamboo mat to help him shape his ohagi better.

He has more faith in his plate of ohagi when he brings it into Sanemi’s room. Sanemi does a double take when he sees him enter.

“What the fuck…? Does this look like a restaurant to you? Why are you strolling in again with another half-assed ohagi.”

“I have improved from yesterday. Try it.” Giyuu puts the plate out in front of him.

Sanemi scowls at it. “It doesn’t look like a dog has gobbled it up and spit it back out anymore, I’ll give you that.”

Giyuu takes it as a win. Sanemi glares at him as if waiting for him to back off, but when Giyuu remains stubbornly rooted to the floor he resignedly picks up the ohagi to take a bite.

“It still tastes like dog food.”

“You have eaten dog food be—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Giyuu obediently listens and snaps his mouth shut. He patiently waits for Sanemi to finish chewing and swallow. When Sanemi catches him staring, he frowns again.

“What, you want me to praise you?”

“No.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“I would like to know how I can improve. Should it be sweeter? Do you prefer the red bean paste to be smoother?”

Sanemi huffs and looks away.

“...it can be sweeter,” he grumbles.

Giyuu nods. “I will make it sweeter next time.”

And he leaves the room without a second word, same as yesterday.

“That was not permission for you to keep making this shit you fucking—”

The morning after, as Giyuu prepares to get down from his bed to make his third ohagi, the door to his room suddenly bursts open.

Giyuu startles, thinking Sanemi has finally snapped and decides to kill him before he steps foot out of his room.

“Yo, Tomioka! Heard you're up and running so thought we might see how you are doing!”

The Uzuis spill into his room, instantly filling up his tiny space with loud and lively ruckus. Giyuu gawks at them in disbelief, eyes darting between each one of them. He has heard of Uzui talking about his wives but he has never been close enough to be introduced to them, much less expect a visit from them altogether.

“Tomioka-san! We're so glad to see you alive! We thought you're never going to wake up!” Suma wails as she hurries over to his bedside.

“Suma! What nonsense are you saying!” Makio yells as she smacks Suma's arm. “Watch your words!”

Hinatsuru stops at the other side of the bed. She offers him a gentle smile. “Please excuse Suma's words, she means well. We are all relieved to see you up and well.”

Tengen drapes his arm around Suma and Makio, effectively putting a stop to their bickering.

“They're right. It's so unflashy waiting for everyone to come around. Now you and Shinazugawa are both awake, the fun can finally start!”

Giyuu stares at all of them. Saying that it is a lot to take in all their presence is an understatement.

He barely talked to Uzui in the past, let alone the three women. To have them crowd around him so suddenly acting like they are old friends is throwing him off and sideways. He wants to ask why they are all taking the time and coming all the way to visit a barely acquainted colleague like him. It is a warm feeling, knowing that they are going out of their way to talk to him and he wants to know why.

Instead, he says flatly, “Why are you here?”

His four guests flinch in various states of surprise. And immediately Giyuu wants to shrivel up and bury himself within his bedsheets and only emerge a few summers later.

“Well, we wanted to see how you are doing.” Hinatsuru replies with diplomatic caution.

“I am fine.” Giyuu then quickly tacks on, “Thank you. You didn't have to come see me.”

Tengen rolls his eyes, somehow catching his meaning behind all the stilted words. “Gosh, even after defeating Muzan you're still as unflashy as ever. Someone will think we would need to twist your arm to make you sound happier to be alive.”

Giyuu doubts he will ever become someone that fits Tengen’s impossible criteria of flashiness, so he takes it in stride.

“What are you planning to do now, or are you going to just laze around here staring at dust on the wall?”

“I am going to make ohagi for Shinazugawa again.”

The four of them stare at him and again Giyuu has the itch to shrink away from their piercing gazes.

Suma blinks. “Ohagi?”

“For Shinazugawa-san?” Hinatsuru tilts her head.

Makio balks. “ Again ?”

Tengen leans forward, eye glinting with an excitement that Giyuu has a very, very bad feeling about.

“Well, well. Seems like a lot has happened the last time we came here. How did that come about?”

Giyuu gives him a brief rundown of how it all happened. From him finding that Shinazugawa hasn't been speaking to anyone to him finally accepting his poorly made ohagi, Giyuu gives a factual description. And yet the Uzui family listens with rapt attention as if he is reenacting the memory like a captivating scene from a theatre play.

“And he ate it?” Tengen presses, utterly bewildered.

Giyuu nods. “He said it ‘tastes like shit’. But he continued to eat it.”

“Was that the only time you made ohagi for him?”

“No, I made it a second time. Today will be my third.”

“Fascinating.” Tengen murmurs as he rubs his chin in hushed awe. “Tomioka makes food for Shinazugawa and Shinazugawa accepts it. Twice .”

Giyuu decides to leave him to his thoughts and pushes himself off the bed, muttering his apologies as Hinatsuru steps aside to give him space.

“Are you going to make ohagi now, Tomioka-san?” She asks.

He nods. The Uzuis follow him out of the door like an enthusiastic gaggle of geese. He assumes they are going their separate ways, now that they have seen him alive and well. To his surprise, they stay closely at his heels as he heads to the kitchen.

Giyuu cranes his neck, throwing a curious glance over his shoulder at them. Tengen merely grins, bright and enigmatic.

“Don’t mind us, Tomioka. We just want to observe the ohagi master practising his art.”

Giyuu cannot determine if the comment is made in jest or out of mockery, so he stays silent and continues walking on.

At the kitchen, he quickly gets to work, now more familiar with the steps. 

“Can we help?” Suma offers as he prepares to boil the rice.

“No.” Giyuu does not want to trouble her - it is his decision to make ohagi after all.

But when her face falls, he realizes once again that he has misstepped. Fingers twitching at his side, his eyes dart around the kitchen for a saving grace to salvage the quickly deteriorating situation. “You can help with something else.”

Suma livens up with rejuvenated anticipation. “Oh! What will that be?”

Giyuu points at where the red beans are kept. “You can pour out the red beans and remove any bad ones. Ohagi requires the entire bean, including the skin, so we will need to make sure there are no defects.”

That was advice from Aoi during his second try. When she realized he had made his first ohagi without inspecting the red beans, she went to one corner of the kitchen and took a deep breath before walking back over to him and giving him a lesson on food quality.

“Got it!”

“We can help too!” Makio pipes up. Hinatsuru smiles in agreement.

Giyuu considers them for a moment, not wanting to make a repeated offense like with Suma but not wanting to trouble them with the cooking either.

“If you’d like, you can rinse the beans once Suma is done. I will boil the water needed to cook them.”

“Makio can help Suma. Allow me to help you with the water.”

Boiling water is not a task that requires the efforts of two people, but Hinatsuru is already walking over to retrieve the water. Giyuu falters in his movement to intercept her, underestimating her speed and practiced precision at completing her self-assigned task. He supposes in his current state he is outmatched by a kunoichi, completely sluggish in comparison.

He turns to Tengen, who has been a silent observer the entire time. Expecting annoyance from the other man for roping his wives into doing menial chores for him, he does not expect to see fond amusement glimmering in his eye.

When he catches Giyuu’s stare, he merely offers an indecipherable smile. “There is nothing wrong with getting help from time to time.”

Walking over to rest his elbow on Giyuu’s shoulder, Tengen leans in with a secretive smirk. “Besides, it was very entertaining watching the ever stoic and calm Water Hashira fluster and fumble.”

Giyuu tenses, snapping his head up to look at Tengen with confusion written all over his face. Tengen simply responds with a cheeky grin.

It takes a shorter time to make ohagi, thanks to three additional pairs of helping hands. Tengen is content to watch them, chiming in with never ending commentary and compliments, though the generous statements are more directed at his wives than Giyuu himself.

Giyuu stares at the finished pieces lined up before him. He had assembled and shaped the ohagi into the final product, while the three women helped with preparing the red bean paste and rice. 

“We have never made ohagi before. We hope this is satisfactory.” Hinatsura turns to him with a hopeful smile.

Without a doubt they look better than his first and second attempts. Whether they pass Sanemi’s test is another matter entirely.

Giyuu picks them up and puts them neatly onto the plate.

“This I have to see.” Tengen says gleefully as he trails behind Giyuu with barely restrained excitement. Giyuu does not stop him. If Shinazugawa gets angry, it will be Uzui who will get yelled at, not him. Hopefully.

Giyuu opens the door to Sanemi's room, the plate of ohagi in his hand.

“Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi lets out a heavy sigh, his chest sinking with weary resignation. “Will it kill you to at least say hello?”

“...Hello.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, which eventually falls on the ohagi. “You know, the squirt might say I like ohagi but eating this every day is going to make me sick, especially if it tastes bad every time.”

“But you eat them every time too.”

Sanemi freezes. Then shoots him a sharp defensive glare. “Cause I have manners and know it’s wrong to refuse food, unlike you!”

“I have manners.” Giyuu refutes.

“Could have fooled me.”

Giyuu does not think his manners are as bad as Shinazugawa claims to be. But he does not argue further and sets the plate down in front of him. Sanemi spares him a wary glance from the corner of his eyes.

“...There are two now.”

“Yes.”

“These look different.”

“Better than yesterday?”

Sanemi grunts. “Hard to say. Lumps of shit, even in different shapes, are still lumps of shit.”

“And you are still willing to eat my shit.”

“Fuck you. Do you still want me to try this?” He crosses his arms with an irritated huff.

Giyuu nods.

“Then ask me nicely.”

“Please eat my shit.”

Sanemi looks like he is seconds away from bursting a blood vessel. “You know what—forget it. Let’s just get this over and done with.”

He picks up one ohagi and takes a bite. Giyuu watches him closely, which earns him an annoyed glare.

“Can you not stare at me while I’m eating every time?”

Giyuu disregards his protest. “How is it this time?”

“It’s not as terrible as your last attempt. Sweeter, but could still use more sugar.”

Giyuu hears a huff of laughter outside the door. “Gosh, this is so bizarrely domestic. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Tengen pokes his head in, leaning his elbow against the doorframe with a lazy grin.

Sanemi groans, eyes darkening with annoyance. “Uzui. The fuck were you standing outside like a creep for?”

He offers an easy shrug. “Just observing two wild creatures in an unfamiliar habitat.”

“Piss off. Or I will stuff Tomioka’s stupid excuse of an ohagi down your throat.”

Tengen waves off the threat with a flick of his hand. “I will have to decline. I already have my lovely wives, I have no need for Tomioka’s labor of love.”

Sanemi sneers. “ Gross . Don’t say it like that, asshole.”

Tengen winks. “Anyway, I don’t want to intrude on a blossoming relationship, so we are going to make a move now.”

Suma waves from behind Tengen. “Goodbye, Shinazugawa-san, Tomioka-san!”

“Tomioka-san worked very hard to make this for you.” Hinatsuru adds with a light smile.

“Yes, so please finish it. Please take care, Shinazugawa-san. Tomioka-san as well.” Makio bows at Sanemi.

The four of them leave, though Giyuu and Sanemi can still hear their rambunctious chatter as they walk down the hallway.

“A noisy bunch, aren’t they.” Sanemi remarks dryly. He then takes another bite out of the ohagi.

Giyuu stares at him. The last two times, he did not stay long enough to see if Sanemi finished the rest of his ohagi or threw it away. But if he is willing enough to take a second bite without any prompting, Giyuu considers this a victory.

Sanemi eyes him warily. “Are you going to keep standing there?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Like the last two times?” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to walk off right after talking and not ending the conversation like a normal person?”

There was nothing in the past conversations that Giyuu would expect a response from Sanemi, so naturally he walked off. He sees no issue in that.

Silence is clearly not the response Sanemi is looking for. He glowers at Giyuu, but when even that garners no further reaction, he shoves the plate with the remaining ohagi back to him.

“Try it.”

Giyuu stares down at it. “It is for you.”

“I’m not eating two of this crap. Maybe trying it yourself is going to do you some good. Then you’ll know what’s lacking in this.”

Giyuu sees logic in that, so he picks up the ohagi and eats it. The red bean paste is mildly sweet, though the texture feels a little more uneven than he would have liked for a chunky paste. The rice is sticky enough and nicely grounded. It is a little underwhelming in terms of taste, so Sanemi is right to think it needs more sugar.

Still, Giyuu is no expert on sweets so he is not the best judge for it. Sanemi is looking at him expectantly. So he replies, “I have no opinion.”

Sanemi scoffs. “I figured. Doubt there are any thoughts in that brain of yours.”

Giyuu looks at his half-eaten ohagi. To think that he is here, sharing food with Shinazugawa of all people when a few months ago he was all but yelling in Giyuu’s face as if Giyuu had wronged his entire family and spit all over their corpses. Tanjirou had agreed that it was a fantastic idea to bring Sanemi ohagi - guess he was right after all.

“Hey. What are you smiling so weirdly for?”

Giyuu’s smile drops. He hadn’t realized he was smiling. Kochou had once asked him to stop smiling - he assumed it was a strange look. 

Sanemi frowns. “I didn’t say that to make you stop. Now I strangely feel like an asshole.”

“It is fine.”

An awkward moment passes between them. Eventually Sanemi is the first to speak, a clumsy question paired with a stilted tone. “What’s your favourite food?”

Giyuu blinks. Sanemi clears his throat, looking away with a stiff set in his jaw.

“You already know what I like. Not that I would have willingly disclosed that, Kamado that nosy brat - literally. Thought it’s fair that I know yours.”

Giyuu is taken aback that Sanemi has taken initiative to ask him a personal question. Perhaps this attempt to become closer with him is working better than he imagined.

“Salmon daikon.”

Sanemi hums in acknowledgement, but then hastily adds, “Don’t expect me to make it for you though. I’m not that charitable.”

And Giyuu does not expect him to. “I will see you tomorrow, Shinazugawa.” Then, remembering Sanemi’s complaint, “I am ending this conversation.”

“You don’t need to say it like that, that’s just weird. And wipe your mouth for fuck’s sake, you eat like a damn child!”

Giyuu wants to make ohagi for Sanemi again, but when he arrives at the kitchen he finds out that there is not enough to make one. So he asks Aoi if they can get another batch in.

Meanwhile, he uses the rest of his time to practice writing with his left hand. His grip is shaky and his hand aches just after a few minutes with the unfamiliar movements. The words that he scrawls onto the page are barely legible, worse than a child’s messy scribble. Giyuu scowls at the failed attempts, feeling his aggravation mount. The stump at his right arm throbs and he shuts his eyes as he waits for the pain to tide over.

Swiping the paper off the table, he walks out of his room to look for a fire to throw it in. But then as he passes by Sanemi’s room—

“Hey, watch it!”

Sanemi steps out of his room and almost collides into him. Battle-hardened instincts from days of a darker time kick in and they swerve to avoid crashing into each other.

“Shinazugawa.” Giyuu exhales, an unspoken apology laced in his statement.

Sanemi huffs as he straightens his sleeve. “Tomioka. What are you in a hurry for?”

Giyuu stiffens as he surreptitiously tries to conceal his paper from Sanemi. “It is nothing.”

“Why do I not believe you?” He crosses his arms.

Giyu purses his lips and looks away. “That is not my problem,” he says as he begins to step away.

As he does so, he feels the paper in his hand snatched away from his grip. Sucking in a sharp breath, he spins to see Sanemi peering curiously at the page.

“Huh. That’s what all this secrecy is about?”

Defensive indignation flares in Giyuu’s chest. “Return it.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “Relax. I am not mocking you. Would be kind of hypocritical of me, don’t you think?”

He waves his right hand, wiggling his remaining fingers. At that Giyuu quietens, shoulders untensing. It dawns upon him that he is not the only one who has been hurled back to square one in some aspects that he has taken for granted.

“All things considered, not that half-assed of an attempt.” Sanemi shoves the paper back to him. Giyuu takes it with a cautious grip, staring at the sloppy penmanship scrawled over it. Sanemi is not one to dole out pity and empty words, Giyuu does not identify insincerity in his comment.

Discarding the frustration-fuelled intention to burn it to ashes, he looks up back to Sanemi. “Thank you. I will try harder.”

Sanemi shrugs before walking off.

Over the next few days, Giyuu continues to practice his writing. Whenever he fills up a page, regardless of how he feels about his results he drops by to show them to Sanemi. The reactions from Sanemi oscillate between hopeless confusion and begrudging comprehension as he tries to decipher his writing. That alone is worth all the exasperation Giyuu went through, and energizes him to do better.

By the time the red beans are restocked, Ubuyashiki Kiriya has sent him and Sanemi an invitation - for the last Hashira meeting. As much as he has been looking forward to making ohagi again, Giyuu will have to put that aside for now.

The meeting is in two days, but Giyuu thinks he should make himself look presentable at the very least. He tries to brush his hair instead of just tying it up like he usually does. But it is practically unsalvageable, the brush gets stuck at stubborn knots and he is getting tired of struggling to tie his hair with one hand.

Cutting it is the next best option. He roams around the Butterfly Mansion looking for sharp objects, and returns to his room with a katana, kitchen knife, and a pair of shears spread out across his bed.

Just as he contemplates between his choices, his door opens to reveal an unexpected visitor.

“Tomioka, I could hear you wandering up and down the hallway. It’s annoying. What are you—” Sanemi freezes in place.

Giyuu freezes as well. They lock eyes and a long tense moment passes.

“What,” Sanemi hisses quietly as his expression flits between concern and fury, “are you trying to do, Tomioka?”

Giyuu hesitates, and only answers when Sanemi’s face darkens further.

“I want to cut my hair, before our meeting with Kiriya-sama.”

Sanemi stares at him intensely with an inscrutable expression. “That’s all?”

Giyuu nods stiffly.

A good few seconds pass before Sanemi finally relaxes. Stepping closer to the bed, he inspects each tool that Giyuu has laid out. “And you thought a kitchen knife would be a good option? Or a katana?”

Giyuu lowers his head. “It is sharp enough to cut hair.”

“Yeah, if only your brain is half as sharp. Spread out the blanket and sit on it.”

Giyuu frowns in confusion, but does as told. Sanemi moves the knife and katana away and picks up the shears with his unbandaged left hand.

“Shinazugawa?”

“Don’t you dare move until I tell you to, you understand? I hardly ever use shears with my left hand. If I cut your ear off, it’s not my problem.”

Giyuu smartly remains still.

“How short do you want it?”

“Above my chin. A little longer than yours.”

He hears an acknowledging grunt from Sanemi who quickly gets to work. The soft sound of snipping echo across the room. It is strangely soothing, he does not recall anyone running their hands through their hand with such gentle care, not since his sister. That in itself is surprising, he had not expected such a featherlight touch from Sanemi. Not towards him, especially.

If he makes a sound, Giyuu fears he will break the spell instantly. So he listens to the repetitive snipping sounds and if he concentrates enough, Sanemi's calm breathing. As his own breathing slows to match Sanemi’s, he relishes the way calloused fingers comb through thick locks with deliberate care. Ataraxia envelops his consciousness like a lover’s caress and he feels his eyelids begin to droop.

“Oi.” He feels a sharp tug of his hair and tenses, snapping out of his trance. “You’re not allowed to sleep either. Stay awake. I don’t want to mess this up because of your idiocy.”

“Sorry.” Giyuu says quietly, tucking his sleepiness away. “This is relaxing.”

The shears pauses at the tips of his shortened hair. Then he hears Sanemi murmur, uncharacteristically soft as if speaking to himself and not actually responding to him, “...is that so?”

They do not talk for the remainder of it. Sanemi only speaks up again when he is done. He stands back, bringing away with him warmth Giyuu had not realized was there.

“There. Have a look.”

Giyuu gets up, his head feeling much lighter than it was minutes ago. Walking over to a mirror, he marvels at how different he looks.

The Giyuu before him looks younger, if it is possible. His hair does not cover his face as much as it used to, framing it in a more airily boyish manner. It is strange not seeing untamed tufts of black locks trailing behind him, but he will get used to it.

“Thank you, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi grunts as he folds up the blanket holding his cut hair. “Don’t thank me. If you accidentally cut your head off before the meeting, I would not have the first clue on how to explain to Kiriya-sama.”

Giyuu turns away from the mirror to look at him. “You are good at this.”

“Because unlike you, I care about how I look and I know how to cut my own hair.”

Sanemi’s hands slow, eyes dimming. “...and I used to cut for my siblings too.”

Giyuu blinks. This is the first time Sanemi has told him anything about his past. Siblings - that means he has siblings other than Shinazugawa Genya. 

“Shinazu—”

“I’ll see you at the meeting.” Sanemi storms out of the room and shuts the door behind him. Giyuu is left alone in the tense silence, wondering what just happened. 

Adding onto that whiplash, Sanemi has taken his blanket with him, along with the shears. Giyuu will have to ask Aoi for another blanket later.

It is suddenly a lot more quiet without Sanemi. The silence is strangely stifling. Lifting his gaze back to the closed door, Giyuu raises his hand to card it through his hair, wondering if the gentle touch he felt was merely a wishful conjuration.

Chapter Text

True as Sanemi says, Giyuu does not see him until the meeting with Ubuyashiki Kiriya. The door to Sanemi’s room is locked and despite Giyuu’s relentless attempts to goad him into firing back retorts of his own, Sanemi remains stubbornly unresponsive on the other side.

Sanemi has always been very tight-lipped about his past, especially with someone like Giyuu. Revealing information about his family has probably been a careless misstep, an unwitting slip of the tongue. 

Giyuu wonders if his attempt to establish a connection with Sanemi has backfired, moving one step forward only to be pushed two steps back. As he makes his way to see the Ubuyashiki family, he is troubled with uncertainty, unsure on how he should approach Sanemi later when he sees him, if at all.

Reaching the estate, he is led inside and into a room with a beautiful view of the garden. The door slides open and Giyuu’s eyes fall on the only person inside.

Sanemi is already knelt on the mat, posture rod-straight and hands resting on his thighs. He spares Giyuu a glance as he settles down next to him, eyes not leaving him for a second as Giyuu mirrors his stance, folding his legs and sitting on flattened heels. 

When Sanemi still has yet to say a word despite staring the entire time, Giyuu chances a look in return. Sanemi’s eyes are unreadable, but Giyuu does not detect malice in them. 

“You don’t look half bad with this new look.” Sanemi finally says.

Giyuu lets out a soft exhale. He reaches up to touch the ends of his hair with his fingertips. “I had a good hairdresser.”

Sanemi scoffs. “Whom you didn’t remunerate, if I recall correctly.”

“I can offer to make him another ohagi—”

“No.” He shuts him down immediately, prompting Giyuu to smile and Sanemi to sneer. Giyuu’s heart feels lighter now that he knows they are on talking terms again. Sanemi’s gaze lingers on his hair for a little while longer, but they flicker back to face the front when they hear the announcement of Ubuyashiki’s arrival.

The meeting is bittersweet. The three remaining Ubuyashiki children - Kiriya, Kanata, and Kuina - declare the official disbandment of the Demon Slayer Corps and thank them for their service, in which Giyuu and Sanemi both rush to refuse their gratitude, thanking Kiriya and the Ubuyashiki family for their invaluable contributions instead.

When the Ubuyashiki siblings begin to weep, they look more like the eight-year-old children that they actually are and should have been. Giyuu turns to Sanemi, who is already looking back with a rare smile. As pleasant surprise wells up in him, he returns the gesture with a smile of his own.

They linger outside the Ubuyashiki estate afterwards, digesting all that has been said at the meeting. 

“It’s finally over, huh?” Sanemi exhales heavily, looking up at the bright cloudless sky. 

Giyuu nods, scarcely believing it either. Kiriya’s statement cements into reality that there truly are no more demons left. No Lower Moons, no Upper Moons, no Muzan. 

And thus marks the end of the Demon Slayer Corps. He’d never thought he would have lived long enough to witness it.

“What are you going to do?” He asks Sanemi, who shrugs in response.

“Don’t know. There is nothing tying me down here.” Crossing his arms across his chest, Sanemi sinks into his thoughts as he deliberates on his question for a while more.

“Travel, probably. See the rest of Japan and actually enjoy the sights instead of constantly being on my toes for demons.”

That sounds like a good plan, fulfilling even. Giyuu may consider it as well. If the estimations are correct, they will not live past the age of twenty five. They ought to make use of their time wisely before it runs out. 

Giyuu does not fear the ticking clock, the inevitable countdown towards an early death. Compared to the risk of a violent and unexpected death on the battlefield, he finds it a comfort that he has the opportunity to live his remaining years in peace.

“What about you, Tomioka?”

Giyuu has given it some thought ever since his conversation with Urokodaki. A life of retirement never crossed his mind, he always thought he would die as a demon slayer. He does not harbor any big aspirations like traveling. However, he knows his regrets and shortfalls, and he wants to use whatever remaining time he has left to rectify them.

“I want to be closer to everyone. I have not managed to get to know the people around me. I want to change that. I wish to be friends with them.”

When there is no reaction from Sanemi, he turns to see him staring back with a peculiar expression. Sanemi opens his mouth but then shuts it, struggling to string together his response.

“That is the last thing I expected from you,” is what he settles with.

Giyuu casts his gaze down, feeling a little small all of a sudden. He supposes it is quite simple of a goal to many. Unlike Tanjirou, Rengoku, or Kanroji, he does not harbour an outgoing personality or possess a natural charisma that compels people to gravitate towards him. Unlike Himejima, he does not carry a serene confidence that effortlessly garners respect from those who meet him.

He is merely Tomioka Giyuu, a young man with a bleeding heart and clumsy words carefully concealed under a calm demeanor, who is on a newfound quest to pick back up the pieces he has lost along the way. Seeking connection with others may indeed be the last thing anyone would expect of him, he supposes.

“But it’s not a bad thing.” Sanemi adds on, pulling Giyuu out of his thoughts. “It’s a decent plan. I like it.”

Giyuu glances back up at Sanemi in surprise, who is looking at him with an easy smirk. It is different from the smile Sanemi gave him back at the meeting. It is less weighted by a hopeful relief and mutual understanding built by years of shared grief. This one is lighter, as if Giyuu is acknowledged by Sanemi. Recognized as someone capable of a propitious future and a full life ahead of him.

Sanemi’s opinion should not matter, Giyuu will carry out his plan regardless of what he thinks. But somehow his approval warms Giyuu’s chest, spreading the sensation outwards to the tips of his fingers.

With a refreshed spiritedness in his steps, Giyuu makes his way back to the Butterfly Mansion. As he walks to his room to pack all that is needed for his return to his estate, he sees Urokodaki waiting outside his door.

“You look well.” His teacher remarks, his meaning extending beyond his appearance.

“Yes, so do you.”

Urokodaki hums good-naturedly. “It is hard not to, on a day such as this. How did your meeting go?”

Giyuu gives him a summary of what happened, including the disbandment of the Corps. When he finishes, Urokodaki lets out a sigh so heavy that his shoulders sink with the effort.

“I never thought I would see the day. And to think it all started the moment you spared Nezuko’s life.”

Giyuu shakes his head. “It started long before then. Had it not been the kindness of the Kamado family across generations, this era of peace would not have been possible.”

“Perhaps, but you are discrediting yourself again. You talk about the compassion and kindness of the Kamados yet you forget to see the same attributes that your heart has harbored all this while.”

Giyuu falls silent.

Even with the mask, Giyuu feels his teacher’s gaze, piercing and true. “I am glad to see the purity in your heart still glow bright and surefast.”

He looks away, feeling his cheeks starting to warm in embarrassment from the praise, so rarely offered by his teacher. An even rarer chuckle rumbles out of Urokodaki at his reaction.

Just then, two familiar figures call out to them from across the hallway. They run over with brimming enthusiasm, footsteps echoing across the long stretch of walls. Giyuu raises his hand in greeting and feels a smile come naturally at the sight of two bright faces.

Nezuko launches herself at Urokodaki, who swiftly catches her in a warm embrace. Tanjirou skids to a stop at his side, infectious elation rolling off in waves.

“You cut your hair! It suits you very well, Giyuu-san!” He comments with a radiant grin.

Giyuu offers a more subdued smile, though it is not outmatched in its warmth. “Thank you, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou does not say anything and merely continues to beam at Giyuu.

“What is it?” Giyuu asks curiously.

Tanjirou’s eyes shine with relieved joy. “You seem happier, Giyuu-san. That makes me very glad.”

Knowing there is perceptive truth in Tanjirou’s words, a sense of contentment washes over Giyuu. He glances out the window at the blue sky with a quiet knowing smile.

“So am I.”

Since Sanemi is planning to travel, Giyuu reckons he should visit him before he leaves. He makes the trip to get the ingredients for ohagi and returns to his own estate. It comes easier now, making ohagi. His hand rolls in familiar motions as he shapes the red bean paste around the rice. Though this is not the kitchen from the Butterfly Mansion, he finds the appropriate tools he needs. This time he makes a little extra for his tasting. It is the sweetest he has made so far, and the textures of red bean paste and rice are satisfactory.

The sweet scent of the confectionery pillows his kitchen, a gentle comfort.

Shame he cannot say the same for Sanemi’s expression.

The man scowls in disgruntled exasperation the moment he opens the gate and catches sight of Giyuu darkening his doorstep.

“Are you going to now walk all the way here from that bamboo maze you call your estate just to deliver ohagi like some sad imitation of a delivery boy?”

“It is where I live.”

“I know, which makes you look even more pathetic. Why don't you bother someone else who is more willing to entertain you?”

“Tanjirou and Nezuko are back at their home in the mountains. My teacher has also returned to Mount Sagiri. Uzui is with his wives, I do not want to disturb them—”

“And you are okay with disturbing me ?”

Giyuu continues as if he does not hear Sanemi's protest. “—and I enjoy talking to you.”

Sanemi quietens immediately, surprise written all over his face.

“I want us to become closer.”

“What the fuck.” Sanemi grimaces. “Who says something like that out of nowhere?”

“It is not out of nowhere.” Sanemi should know that. Giyuu shared his intent on befriending those around him, back at the Ubuyashiki estate. Their time together at the Butterfly Mansion was merely the beginning. Since Sanemi had not entirely closed off from him when they last met, Giyuu decides to continue seeking him out.

Sanemi swears under his breath. “Look. I respect that whole plan of yours to be merry-buddies with people, but that doesn’t mean I volunteered to be your next target. Just because we started talking without ending up wanting to strangle each other, just because you made me some below average snack, just because we are—we are the last two Hashira left, doesn't make us friends. I don't know where you got that idea, Tomioka, but you better throw that out of the window.”

Giyuu never thought that they are friends. Not yet, at least. So he doesn't throw that idea out, because it is never there in the first place.

“Can I come again tomorrow?”

“Were you even listening?!”

Giyuu nods, solemn and earnest. “I was. You do not seem to welcome me today, so I will try again tomorrow.”

“I don't want you to try anything!”

“Can I at least give you the ohagi? I do not want to waste it.”

Sanemi does a double take. “Did you seriously carry that ohagi all the way here?!”

Giyuu stares at the wrapped ohagi in his hand. Perhaps Sanemi thinks well-travelled ohagi is hardly appetising. He should think of a better way to carry them the next time.

During his moments of serious contemplation, he is unaware of Sanemi's baffled stare.

“Fine, just fucking—give it to me. Stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

Giyuu does not know what expression he is making to look like that, but what matters more is that Sanemi is accepting his gift. He readily hands it over.

Sanemi holds it in his palm, eyes darting between it and Giyuu awkwardly.

“...You coming in or what? I don't want you to go around telling others I'm ungrateful or anything.”

“Who would I tell?” Giyuu stiffens the instant the words leave his mouth. Worried that he has picked at a sore wound, he snaps his jaw shut.

But then Sanemi snorts. A crooked smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

“I don't know.”

He steps back, an unspoken permission. And so Giyuu steps through the threshold, past the tentatively permeable boundary, into Sanemi’s estate. 

Unsurprisingly, It is initially a little awkward. Even back at the Butterfly Mansion, they had not spent more than an hour alone with each other. They sit in silence facing each other, each facing an internal debate on how to navigate the conversation.

Eventually, Sanemi takes the lowest hanging fruit and tries the ohagi. Giyuu watches in anticipation as he eats it. Other than the complaint that Giyuu walked all the way just to deliver two pieces of ohagi in an unappealing wrapping, he does not point out any other flaw. Giyuu gives himself a mental pat on the back on his implied improvement.

He says that as much, which earns him a non-committal grumble in response. Instead, Sanemi asks him how it was like making ohagi for the first time. Giyuu recounts his experience and Sanemi snorts at his embarrassing mistakes. But similar to the Uzuis, Sanemi listens with undivided attention.

“I guess I should count myself lucky for not being poisoned by your first try. I wasn’t lying when I said that was the worst ohagi I’ve ever had.”

Giyuu smiles. “Thank you, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi’s face twists in confusion. “For what?”

“For still being willing to try what I made, despite the unsatisfactory first attempt. I appreciate your consideration.”

“I—” Sanemi sits up, flaring in indignation, “I was not being considerate! Get your delusional head out of your ass, that was not what I was trying to do.”

“Then what were you trying to do?”

Sanemi opens his mouth, then shuts it before looking away. “I don’t know. But anything but that.”

Just then, Sanemi’s attendant comes over and asks if Giyuu will be staying for dinner.

Sanemi turns to him. “Do you have any place to be?”

Giyuu shakes his head. He does not have much of a schedule nowadays.

So he stays for dinner as well. At some point, they have nothing much else to say to each other. But the silence isn’t as stifling compared to during the day, so Giyuu is content to sit and admire the now-darkened sky outside. The moon hangs above, a silent observer of their odd solidarity.

“It’s peaceful, huh.” Sanemi murmurs. “In the past, nights like this hardly came by. And now, these are the only kinds of nights we have most of the time.”

Giyuu nods. “It is a welcomed change.”

“Yeah. Not sure if I’d get used to it though. When you’ve been fighting demons for so long, some things can never go away.”

Giyuu understands where he is coming from. Sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, his hand itches for a sword that he no longer puts next to him. He would look out from his window into the darkness cloaking the trees surrounding him, expecting a demon to leap into view and pounce at him with hunger-driven bloodlust. But there is none of that, not anymore.

When they have cleared their meals, Giyuu thanks Sanemi for hosting him and takes his leave. Sanemi bids him farewell with a casual wave of his hand.

All things considered, today is not a disaster. 

A few days later, he ventures another visit. This time, he decides to bring something different. He recalls Sanemi saying if he eats ohagi so often he's bound to get tired of it, so Giyuu gets a box of daifuku instead. Professionally made this time - he knows even less about how to make daifuku. If he shows up at Sanemi's door with a poorly made confectionery he fears he will be barred entry for good.

It is late afternoon by the time he reaches Sanemi’s estate. When he knocks at the gate, it takes a few tries before it opens. It is his attendant instead who welcomes him with a low bow.

“Is Shinazugawa out today?”

“No, he is at the training grounds.”

At that, Giyuu frowns. Puzzlement seeps into the crunch in his footsteps as he is led to the training grounds. Giyuu has not set foot into his own training grounds ever since the last battle, partly because he no longer has his sword arm to practice with. Sanemi may still have his right hand, but he is missing enough fingers to prevent him from holding a sword the same way again.

He hears sharp snaps of bamboo as he nears his destination. Sanemi has his back turned towards him, training sword in his left hand. Even from this angle Giyuu notices the stiff lines of tension along his shoulders and arms. Split pieces of bamboo lay scattered around his feet, fallen remnants of the dead.

“Tomioka.” Sanemi says, voice tinged with exertion. “Are you just going to keep coming over? Is that something I should be expecting from now onwards?”

“Depends. I intend to visit as much as I can before you leave.”

Sanemi scoffs. He swings his sword at some propped bamboo, a powerful arc of graceful force that cleaves the stems in one fell swoop.

“Don’t you have anything else better to do? There are plenty of other people you can be chummy with.”

Giyuu tilts his head. “Would you prefer if I did that?”

Sanemi tilts his head to pin Giyuu with an irritated look over his shoulder. “That's for you to decide, isn't it? Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Giyuu says nothing to that. “You are practicing,” he points out instead.

“No, I ran out of vegetables so I’m just chopping some up for dinner.” Sanemi remarks dryly, rolling his eyes for emphasis.

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I've trained so hard to get to where I'm at, and I should just let my skills turn rusty?” 

“But there are no demons anymore.”

“It's not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

Sanemi groans in mounting frustration. “It's about maintenance, making sure your body doesn’t forget. Not like you would understand.”

They both freeze, conversation coming to a complete standstill. Sanemi's eyes flicker over to Giyuu's right side before darting away, his face twisting with the closest thing to shame it will ever wear.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

It hurts, he won't lie. Whenever he feels pain shooting up his right shoulder, whenever he raises his right arm to reach for something just to be roused of its absence, it is as if a dagger has sunk into his chest. A relentless reminder of what he has lost forever.

Whenever it happens, however, he repeats Nezuko’s words in his mind. He pictures Sabito and Tsutako's faces. Reminds himself, even if he doesn't believe it on a bad day, to find the strength to push through. Even if it is for a day more, an hour more, a minute more, a second more, he will claw his fingers into the space between his chest and feel for his beating heart.

Giyuu does not speak for a while, and Sanemi begins to shift restlessly at the stretching silence.

“You are right. I would not understand.”

Guilt flashes across Sanemi's face. He opens his mouth to speak, but Giyuu presses on.

“I am not the swordsman that I used to be. Not anymore, at this state. But I am not needed as a swordsman by the people around me. My teacher talks to me about trees that look most beautiful this season and asks me to visit soon to admire them. Tanjirou and Nezuko share with me about cleaning up their family home with their friends and ask for my opinion on what ornament they should add to the house. Uzui tells me about the hot spring he and his wives visited and suggests that I come along next time.

“They don't need me to fight; they want me to live.”

Sanemi turns to face him fully, eyes wide.

Idly, Giyuu imagines what kind of life Sabito and Tsutako might live in a world no longer tainted by demons. Tsutako would have been happily married, spending her time with her husband, with Giyuu, and doing whatever she enjoys. She's always been skilled at embroidery, perhaps she would have made a living through her craftsmanship.

Sabito has always been larger than life, he would have wanted to make the most out of his freedom. He would have travelled around Japan to explore every corner, pulling Giyuu along for the ride. But he would have slowed down for Giyuu as well, he reckons. Sabito has always been too kind for his own good.

Whatever lives they might have lived, Giyuu knows from the bottom of his heart, they would rather him lock his sword away and live out his days like a normal man than keep his blade sharp as if it has never forgotten the give of a demon's neck.

He wonders how he can get this across to Sanemi. He wonders if Sanemi has someone like Sabito and Tsutako in his life in order for Giyuu’s message to be conveyed properly. He is not sure, so he does not say.

Sanemi still has yet to speak. He stares at Giyuu, but neither in anger nor confusion. Giyuu cannot decipher what emotion Sanemi is feeling, but he is staring like he is seeing Giyuu for the first time.

“Tomioka. Giyuu.” Sanemi murmurs, testing the words on his tongue. Repeats them in his mind.

Tomioka Giyuu.

Tomi-oka Gi-yuu.

Gi-yuu . Righteousness and courage.

How fitting. He'd never realized. Sanemi chuckles weakly.

Giyuu blinks and tilts his head, left out of the internal musings in Sanemi’s mind.

“You're on your way to a good life.” Sanemi finally says.

Giyuu is not entirely certain what he means by that, so he stays silent. His fingers are starting to grow sore from holding the cloth wrapping the daifuku for so long, so he flexes them. The minute movement catches Sanemi’s attention, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He jerks his chin at it. “What's that you're carrying?”

“Daifuku. I bought them.”

“Bought?” He cocks a brow. “Got tired of making ohagi?”

“No, I thought you might have gotten tired of eating them.”

Sanemi scoffs before turning on his heels and heading back inside. Giyuu follows after him.

They give the daifuku a try. The mochi is fragrant and the red bean paste filling is mildly sweet. Giyuu picked daifuku as it also has red beans like ohagi. So he made an educated guess that Shinazugawa might enjoy it too.

“Shinazugawa, do you like it?”

Sanemi hums as he chews the confectionery. “It's alright, I suppose.”

“Is it not good daifuku then?” Giyuu had gone to the first shop he saw that sold daifuku, perhaps he should have gone to a more famous shop instead.

“It's good, just that I was expecting you to bring what you made.”

Giyuu pauses mid-chew. Sanemi pauses mid-bite, daifuku trapped between his fingers and teeth. He pulls it out to pin Giyuu with a warning glare.

“Don’t read too much into it.” He says hastily.

And so Giyuu listens. “Okay.”

Sanemi does not head back out to the training grounds when they are finished. It is already close to dinner time, so he gets Giyuu to stay for a while longer.

“Seems like you are making good progress. You’ve been talking to Uzui?”

Giyuu nods. “I was not expecting him to write to me. I was not sure what to reply to him at first, but he always has a lot to say. He asks about you too.”

“What about me?”

“I am still not certain what Uzui means, but he asks if I have been keeping you well-fed—”

Sanemi chokes on his tea, cutting Giyuu off abruptly.

“Fucking bastard. He’s just being an ass. Don’t listen to his nonsense.”

Giyuu supposes Sanemi knows Tengen better than he does, so he nods in acknowledgement.

By the time they are done, this is already quite late at night. So Sanemi, trying to be a decent host, offers a guest room for the night.

Giyuu has stayed up all night before hunting demons. And now that demons are no more, there are few dangers at night that are worth Giyuu's concern.

He tells Sanemi that, only to receive a scoff in return.

“Well, now I know you make a terrible host, Tomioka. No surprise there though.”

Giyuu does not understand what he is trying to get at, so he opts to remain quiet. Sanemi rolls his eyes and leads him to the guest room anyway. 

“Consider it a thank you for the ohagi, terrible as they were,” he says before retiring to his own room.

Giyuu peers into the offered room. It has a simple set up, not dissimilar to his own room. He has no complaints. He washes up and goes straight to sleep.

Sleep, however, is unkind to him tonight.

Giyuu wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering and gasping. Images of the final battle burn into the back of his eyes in haunting imprints. Horrifying what-ifs morphing into taunting echoes of futile deaths and lost hope plague his vulnerable mind, making mockeries out of their victory.

Ah. Perhaps there are some dangers at night that are worth his concern after all.

Suppressing the shortness of his breath, Giyuu pushes himself up from his futon and slips out of his room. The night air is cool on his skin, chasing away the shadows from his mind somewhat.

He wanders mindlessly until he comes across a zen garden, so he sits on the engawa that has a good view of it. The moon is bright tonight, illuminating the intricate patterns of the stone arrangements under its silver glow.

Gazing upon them in quiet appreciation, he feels his mind slowly clear and his breath return to a steady cadence.

“It’s rude to wander in your host’s house at night.”

Giyuu stiffens. He had not noticed Sanemi’s presence. Inclining his head towards the source of the voice, he notices Sanemi standing at a distance with his arms crossed.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Not really.” He pads over and sits down next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Giyuu exhales out of his nose as a response.

Sanemi props his chin on his knuckles. “Bad dream?”

It is silly when Sanemi puts it like that. But it is the truth, so Giyuu nods. “I dreamt of the last battle. Of the hellish bloodshed if all had been lost. It is foolish to dream of something that did not happen, now that everything is over.”

Sanemi scoffs. “So what if you have nightmares? So do the rest of us, join the line. Keeping up with ‘better than everyone else’ act isn’t going to do you any good anymore.”

Despite his harsh words his tone is soft, albeit rough around the edges. But that is expected of Sanemi. Giyuu pulls his knees up to his chest, listening for the soft sound of Sanemi’s breathing to calm himself. He runs over Sanemi’s words again, pulling them apart to extract every potential meaning and comfort he can find.

“Why do you always say that?”

Sanemi peels open one eye. “Say what?”

“That I am better than everyone else. You said that before.”

“Cause you act so high and mighty, turning your nose up at us, standing away from everyone else, and refusing to acknowledge us. You were always going on about how you are different from us, and it pissed me off.”

Sanemi starts gesturing into the air with an animated hand to emphasize his point. “We all worked hard to become Hashira, just because you have been a Hashira longer than some of us and even developed your own form does not give you the right to look down on us.”

Giyuu frowns. It is very bizarre to have someone describe him in a way that is so utterly and completely wrong about how he saw himself. Even more so than Ubuyashiki. Because while he did not believe in Ubuyashiki’s faith in him, he respected the master and his seemingly all-knowing perspective to believe that he truly saw something in Giyuu that Giyuu himself didn’t and couldn’t see.

With Sanemi, it is like going about your life knowing that the sky is blue only for someone to outright yell at you with full-chested confidence that it is green, and has been green all along.

In his tongue-tied bafflement, Giyuu can only stare at Sanemi, who stares back in defensive confusion.

“What? Am I wrong, or did I hurt your fragile feelings by laying it all out like that?”

Giyuu shakes his head, mulling over his next words. “I never thought I was better than anyone else.”

“Bullshit. Then why do you keep saying you’re different from the rest of us?”

Giyuu bites his lip, the beginnings of shame curdling in his stomach at the thought of admitting the truth, despite not truly believing in this weakness of his anymore. Would Sanemi despise him even more when he finds out, he fears.

Strength means living on with an earnest and open heart , he repeats to himself.

“You are all strong and earned the right to become Hashira. I did not feel worthy to be one, so I never felt like I belonged.”

Sanemi gawks at him, stunned into silence.

“What the fuck.”

Giyuu looks away, unable to bear the weight of Sanemi’s intense stare.

“Tell me you’re joking right now, Tomioka Giyuu.”

“I am not.”

“Fuck—you mean all this time, all these years, you weren’t a snobby asshole, just an insecure idiot?”

Giyuu clears his throat to ease the discomfort lodged in it. He practically feels any goodwill that Sanemi harbors towards him washed right into the sewers.

He hears a loud sigh.

“Tomioka.”

Giyuu does not acknowledge him.

“Hey, asshole. Look at me when I am talking to you.”

Giyuu dares to meet his gaze. Sanemi's face is twisted with vexation, but it lacks the anger that Giyuu is used to receiving. 

“How far does your head have to be up your ass that you genuinely think you're not worthy to be a Hashira?”

“I don't think that now. Not since the last battle.”

“You better not. You survived the fight. All of the Hashira are strong and worth their salt. Even when I hated your attitude back then, when I thought you looked down on us, I never thought you were weak.”

Giyuu does not look down on him, so he corrects that statement. “I always respected you. You rose up the ranks quickly. You even talked back and yelled at Oyakata-sama. That took courage.”

Sanemi hisses out a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was so stupid looking back. I was angry and didn't know better. Thought Oyakata-sama was one of those despicable leaders who hides behind his soldiers.”

He pauses, lifting his hand from his face. “Wait, you didn't hate me? Even back then?”

Giyuu shakes his head.

“Then why did you turn me down when I asked to have lunch with you?”

Giyuu frowns, trying to recall that specific exchange. If he is not mistaken, it was the first time Sanemi struck a conversation with him - and tragically the first of many countless yelling episodes by the hot-headed man.

“I had just eaten before attending the meeting. If I were to agree to lunch, then I would have been too full to eat. It didn't make sense to eat again so soon.”

Sanemi pins him with a glare of frustrated disbelief. “And you didn't think of explaining? You just said no, barely spared me a look, and walked off!”

Giyuu doesn't think there was a need to explain back then. And he did try to explain, albeit poorly, resulting in a tumultuous start to their rocky relationship. He doesn’t say any of that, not wanting to risk the likelihood of Sanemi wringing his neck.

Sanemi sighs again and shuffles so he faces Giyuu fully. “Alright, dipshit. You said you wanted to make friends? Here's a piece of advice: make yourself clear when you talk so people don't misinterpret and wind up thinking you're an ass.”

Giyuu gives a slow nod.

“And respond with more than just with one line or even nothing at all!”

“But I have nothing to add to the conversation sometimes.”

“That doesn't mean you can walk off without a word. People will think you're ignoring them like they're not worth your time.”

Giyuu is about to remain silent as usual but realizes that it will be going against Sanemi’s advice. “Then what should I do?”

“Don’t end the conversation without saying anything. And don’t pull that ‘I am ending this conversation’ bullshit again, it’s just going to backfire.”

Giyuu absorbs his words with little resistance. He thinks back on what Sanemi said. “Do other people think I'm an ass?”

“Iguro sure did. Kochou came up with excuses on your behalf sometimes. Rengoku and Kanroji were too nice to think that. Uzui thought you're boring. I don't know what Tokitou thought. Himejima prayed that your heart would find peace or something along that line.”

Giyuu is not surprised by some of it. Shinobu once said he was disliked by people, but he doubts being thought of as an ass equates to being disliked. So she was still incorrect.  

Sanemi presses his lips into a contemplative line, eyes drifting to the side.

“Kochou— Kanae believes you're misunderstood. I think I’m starting to see it now.”

Giyuu blinks. Aside from Shinobu, he hasn’t really heard anyone mention the late Flower Hashira in recent memory. He was not aware Sanemi and her had been closely acquainted.

“...Do you still think I'm an ass?”

Sanemi snorts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I used to think you're an ass and an idiot. Now you're a dumbass and an idiot.”

Giyuu looks down. It seems like Sanemi's impression of him has gotten worse. Sanemi notices his downcast expression, however.

“Ugh, just —what I meant was that I don't think you're an ass anymore. Incredibly annoying, but I'm less pissed off by that blank look on your face.”

Giyuu perks up. That is an improvement. It is a step towards being closer. He is pleased with his progress thus far.

Sanemi's mouth twists into an unamused scowl. “What are you smiling about? That ain't something to be happy about, you know!”

Giyuu does not drop his smile. It will be hard to sour his mood right this instant.

Unsure why Giyuu is being so peculiar but decides against questioning it, Sanemi simply huffs. “Idiot. Go back to sleep. Talking to you is exhausting.”

He pushes himself to his feet and Giyuu follows suit. Their rooms are in opposite directions, so they quietly part ways. Giyuu returns to his room and a dreamless sleep comes easily this time.

Giyuu wakes up when the sun is bright enough to shine through his eyelids. He quickly washes up, gets dressed and heads to the room where they had dinner yesterday.

Sanemi is already there, halfway through his breakfast. He lifts his gaze when Giyuu enters and gives him a quick nod.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Shinazugawa.”

Giyuu sits opposite him while Sanemi calls for his attendants to serve Giyuu's breakfast.

“Slept better afterwards?”

Giyuu nods. Sanemi hums in acknowledgement. Breakfast is a quiet affair. Sanemi does not talk, so Giyuu opts to wordlessly observe his surroundings as he eats. He only speaks up when he is done.

“Shinazugawa.”

“What?”

“What do you usually do?”

Sanemi raises a brow as he sips his miso soup. “What does that mean?”

“When I come over, you are always at home. I was wondering what you usually occupy yourself with.”

Sanemi puts down his bowl, brows furrowed in thought. “I don't know, really. I’ve been training to get my body back into shape. And also some wrapping up on arrangements before I leave this place.”

“Do you have something you enjoy?”

Sanemi shrugs. “Sure, killing demons. But that’s not an option anymore.”

Giyuu remains silent. 

“...I like to raise rhinoceros beetles.”

“Do you have them here?”

“I haven’t had any in a while. I used to collect them a lot when I was a kid, though.”

Sanemi rests his chin on his hand. “I bet yours is something terribly boring.”

“I enjoy tsume shogi.”

“No wonder you’re so bad at talking to people. Your brain is full of shogi pieces.”

“That explains the rattling when you speak.”

Sanemi’s jaw slackens before he smirks wickedly at Giyuu. “You dipshit.”

Giyuu does not have the motivation to head outside today, so he stays in to continue practicing his writing. He writes five sets of hiragana and five sets of katakana before moving onto names in kanji.

He writes his own name first. Then Tsutako. Sabito. Urokodaki Sakonji. Kamado Tanjirou. Kamado Nezuko. 

He thinks of the next name. And his hand moves before his mind catches up.

Shinazugawa Sanemi.

Giyuu pauses, taking in the kanji characters that form Sanemi's name.

Shinazugawa . Undying river.

Sanemi . Eternal truth.

It fits him, Giyuu realizes as he runs his thumb over the ink-carved surface across his name. He lifts his thumb to find it slightly smudged. The dark ink previously forming Sanemi’s name is now coated across his skin.

Suddenly, his head starts to buzz and his skin prickles with heat. Surmising that the practice has overworked his mind and body, Giyuu concludes the session and moves on. He eyes the letter at the side of his desk, the only one that has not been replied to and stored away.

Giyuu had not expected a letter from the Uzuis when he received it for the first time. In a tone that he vividly imagined in Tengen’s boisterous voice, it demanded to know how he has been doing, recited in great details about their lives, the recent ryotei they went to with food so exquisite they must absolutely bring Giyuu to next time, and included well wishes from Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru. 

It had taken some time for Giyuu to craft a response back then, unused to such cordiality and still adjusting to writing with his left hand. His reply was short, though he tried to express his appreciation in as many words as his unaccustomed hand allowed.

To his surprise, Tengen’s following letter is no less enthusiastic. He shares how the weather has been excellent lately, prompting a spontaneous visit to the hot springs. Apparently it was an incredible experience for them and he thinks Giyuu needs to try it for himself as well. On a separate note, Suma was inspired by Giyuu’s ohagi attempts so she has been trying to make neri yokan. She promises to send some over once she gets the hang of it.

Deciding his writing form today is legible enough to be presented to eyes other than his own, Giyuu writes a response, sharing what he has been up to, accepting their generous invitations, wishing Suma luck with her neri yokan, and ends off with his regards to the four of them.

Folding his letter in completion, he sets it to one side for delivery later. Filled with a renewed sense of vigor and productivity, he decides to make use of the rest of his time tidying up his room. He opens his drawer and sees his haori, neatly folded, and feels a wave of immense gratitude over Nezuko wash over him again.

Perhaps there is something he can find in the nearby village that she might like. However, he admits that he is lacking in the arts and expertise of gift-giving. A second opinion would be appreciated.

Heading to his desk, he quickly writes a brief letter and hands it over to Kanzaburo for delivery.

Hopefully Tengen is patient enough to wait a few more days for his reply.

It takes the old crow an extra day to reach its destination as it has mistaken east for west. Sanemi wakes up with a cold-sweat startle when a blood-curdling squawk erupts at his window.

“What the fuck —”

Sanemi reaches for a sword that is no longer there and looks frantically at the window. Only to curse and hiss when he sees the geriatric crow fumbling to find balance on the frame.

“How Tomioka puts up with your insufferable ass, I haven't the first fucking clue…”

“Letter…for…Shinazugawa…!” It croaks weakly, and Sanemi worries that it will keel over and die before it returns to its owner.

“Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming. Don’t cough your lungs out.” He gets up and snatches the letter out of its quivering beak.

Shinazugawa,

I plan to visit the village to look for a gift. You may accompany me to offer insight. Should you be free, please let me know when you can meet. I am available anytime this week.

Tomioka Giyuu

“This guy really needs to work on his tone.” He mutters with a click of his tongue.

He isn't able to write back a response, but he would rather eat Giyuu’s first ohagi monstrosity a thousand times than trust Kanzaburo to verbally relay his reply.

So he chases Kanzaburo out of the window and gets his own crow Sorai to pass on his message verbatim.

When Giyuu sees Sanemi’s crow land on his window instead of Kanzaburo, he faintly worries where his own crow has wandered off to. But hearing Sorai's message brings him relief at least, that Sanemi has received his letter and has agreed to come along.

They agree to meet in two days. Leading up to it, Giyuu finds himself absentmindedly pacing up and down the hallway whenever his mind wanders and his body is not occupied with a task.

He does not believe he is nervous, but there is a particular tight sensation in his stomach that only intensifies whenever he thinks about Sanemi.

He concludes after some time that it is possibly anticipation. Lately, it has been Giyuu who has been barging into Sanemi’s space, be it in the Butterfly Mansion or his own home. Excluding the peculiar exception that was the hair-cutting incident, Sanemi never expressed his interest to be around Giyuu.

So when Sanemi accepts his invitation, Giyuu is naturally surprised. Excited, even. He hopes that this will be another opportunity to become closer.

On the day itself, Giyuu makes sure that he is early. He waits for Sanemi on the bridge near the entrance of the village.

Sanemi reaches on time, Giyuu spots him approaching from a distance. It is strange to see Sanemi out and about without his usual uniform. The casual clothes soften the gruff edges in his gait and the firm line along his shoulders. Giyuu decides that he appreciates this new look.

“Shinazugawa.”

“Tomioka.” Shinazugawa gives him a onceover. “You don't look like you've lost your mind.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I got a letter from your demented old crow demanding me to go shopping with you. So naturally I thought that you've gone mad staring at the four walls of your estate and decided to bring me down with you.”

“And yet you have agreed to come.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “Don't think too much about it. I just wanted to make sure you're not going to do something stupid.”

Giyuu smiles. “Well, I do need your help today, which is why I asked for your presence.”

Sanemi scoffs, walking past him towards the village. Giyuu quickly falls in step. “Sure. What is it about this gift that you're looking for, anyway?”

Giyuu explains to him that it is for Nezuko and his intention behind it. Sanemi does not interrupt while he talks, but a pondering look crosses his face when Giyuu reveals that it was her who mended his haori.

“However, I have never been good at choosing gifts. I thought a second opinion may be of help in this process.”

Sanemi pins him with a skeptical look. “And you thought I would be the perfect person for the job.”

Giyuu nods. Sanemi blinks like he had not expected him to agree.

“...Fine. But if the kid doesn't like it, don't blame me.”

They wander around the village, oscillating between browsing through rows of stalls and ducking inside shops to look for anything suitable. Giyuu spots some pretty Western shoes but is unable to answer when Sanemi asks what shoe size Nezuko has. Sanemi then all but smacks his hand when Giyuu picks up a shiny comb, arguing that it is too gaudy.

Stopping at a stall selling hair ornaments, Giyuu reaches for the first five hairpins that catch his eye before Sanemi squeezes his hand in a death-grip, fearing he would have purchased the entire inventory if he lets him go on.

Giyuu then drifts to another shop selling scarves and marvels at the impressive range of selection - silk, cotton, and wool of every color he can think of. He is, to his disappointment, limited to buying only two because - in Sanemi’s signature harsh words - she “only has one neck like a fucking normal person”.

(He tries to sneak in one more scarf when Sanemi looks away but his sleight of hand does not go undetected by his eagle-eyed awareness. Sanemi yells at him to put it back.)

Upon being strictly prohibited from buying any more clothes and accessories, Giyuu picks up a jewelry box for Nezuko to store her trinkets. It is intricately carved, Giyuu runs his fingers along the smooth carvings and nods in resolution. He maintains eye contact with Sanemi when he hands over money to the merchant.

“I am starting to understand why you asked me along. You have no damn self-control.” Sanemi mutters as he side-eyes Giyuu whose hand is already full with purchased goods. In fact, he bought so much that Sanemi has been made to carry some as well, which he has done so — but only after a grumbling series of complaints.

“They have many finely crafted items here. I was not able to decide, so I picked them all.” Giyuu reasons, unremorseful and looking way too pleased with himself than Sanemi would have liked.

“You're going to give the Kamado brats a scare.”

Giyuu stops in his tracks. “I need to get something for Tanjirou as well. I appreciate the reminder.”

Sanemi runs a weary hand down his face, heaving out a deep sigh.

It takes them a good half of the day to conclude the shopping, including the wrapping of gifts for delivery. Giyuu adds a note so that the Kamado siblings know what they are for. Sanemi feels sorry for whichever poor soul who will have to drag all that up the mountain to the secluded house.

“Thank you for accompanying me today, Shinazugawa,” Giyuu says as they make their way back, “it was a productive trip.”

“If you say so, though you and I have very different definitions of ‘productive’.”

“It was. I purchased many things for Nezuko and Tanjirou, got to know a few merchants who have been quite kind to us, and I am starting to understand you a little more.”

Sanemi cocks a brow. “Understand me?”

Giyuu nods, the corner of his lips tugging up in a slight smile. “You have a good eye for aesthetic things yet you do not compromise on the importance of practicality. I am glad to have you here.”

Sanemi clears his throat and shifts his gaze elsewhere. “Only because I don't want you to get swindled and empty out your pockets over something so stupid.”

That only makes Giyuu's smile spread wider. “Perhaps.”

“You really care about those two, huh?”

Giyuu takes a while to come up with a response, thinking back on his first encounter with them. He still remembers the dizzy whiplash between regret, anger, sympathy, shock, curiosity and resolution like it was yesterday.

When Nezuko threw herself in front of a defenseless Tanjirou, the silhouette of Tsutako flashed across her defensive stance. Her single-minded, full-hearted instinct to protect one's family compelled him to make a split-second decision that changed the trajectory of all their lives in a way he would never have anticipated.

“I do not see a possibility where I would not have cared for them.”

The surety in his tone gives Sanemi pause. He looks at Giyuu, really looks at him. All his previous encounters with Giyuu and the Kamados replay in his mind like an old reel, except it is now colored in fresh lenses and framed in a new angle.

His stubborn silence when Kamado was first dragged in for trial, only to intervene with a warning shout which earned Sanemi the most painful headbutt of his life. His persistent muteness, letting Ubuyashiki steer the discussion and Urokodaki's letter defend the siblings, only for Sanemi to realize he has already handed over his life in an iron-willed guarantee of their potential. His stone-cold stillness throughout the trial, only to yank Obanai’s arm off the wailing boy who only wanted his sister to be safe.

And, if the reports are true, his unwavering resolution to kill the demonified Kamado until the tides turned in their favour with renewed hope that not all was lost.

Suddenly, Sanemi thinks he understands Giyuu a little more as well.

“You are a strange guy, Tomioka.”

Giyuu chuckles good-naturedly. Not the worst thing to be called by Sanemi, all things considered.

They eventually come to an intersection with splitting paths that lead them back to their individual estates.

“This is it.” 

Giyuu nods. “I appreciate you taking the time out today, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi shrugs. “Not like I have anything pressing to do nowadays.”

“Except for your plan to travel.”

“Except that.”

Giyuu looks down in thought. “Perhaps I am due for some travel soon, though with a different intention.”

Sanemi tilts his head. “What does that mean?”

“I am giving back the Water Hashira estate to its attendants. I will need another place to stay, so I should start looking around.”

Sanemi blinks. “You’re giving your estate to your attendants? Why?”

“The estate has been cared for by the attendants and the generations before them. They are as much of its owners as I was.”

Sanemi regards Giyuu for a long moment. He turns over his newly formed opinions of Giyuu over and over again. He comes to a single conclusion rather quickly.

“You can stay at my estate.”

Giyuu’s footsteps falter. He opens his mouth but Sanemi raises a hand to stop him.

“Before you get any weird thoughts, we will not be cohabiting forever. I was intending to let my attendants retire when I travel, so there won't be anyone living there anyway. You can take my estate, if you want.”

Giyuu finds himself at a loss for words for a while. He sees the sincerity in Sanemi's eyes and finds himself unable to look away.

“Thank you.”

Afterwards, Giyuu makes arrangements to pass over the Water Hashira estate to the attendants. He packs all that he needs - it all fits into one pack that he straps to his back. His old haori sits at the bottom of it, safe and secure.

The next few weeks go by with him staying at Sanemi’s estate. Initially he is concerned there will be difficulty adjusting to a new living environment, especially with a former colleague with a relationship that he is still cautiously tending to like a plant struggling to bud. But he finds that Sanemi is quite the lone wolf and tends to keep to himself.

They pass by each other sometimes and share the occasional meal. With the rest of his time, Giyuu writes to Tanjirou, Urokodaki and Tengen. His handwriting is improving now, though it is still not at the level of steadiness he would have wanted. 

As he sends the letter off with updates on his new living arrangements, he wonders how they would react to this news. Tanjirou and Urokodaki would be happy for him, no doubt. Tengen has always been quite curious about his developments with Sanemi - he would probably come back with a vivacious response.

One night, Giyuu is woken up by his nightmares again. When the darkness remains suffocating after an attempt to calm himself, he steps out and heads to the zen garden again.

Only to find Sanemi already there, hunched over on the engawa.

Sanemi tilts his head towards him with a wry smile. “Rough night for us both, huh?”

Giyuu says nothing and sits with him, an arm's length distance between them. They stare out at the garden in silence for a while. The moon conceals itself behind the clouds tonight, dimming its silver glow into a gossamer blur.

“What is it this time?” Giyuu asks.

For a while, Sanemi does not speak. He presses the pads of his fingers against his closed eyes, as if he can push the images out of his head like that.

Just as Giyuu thinks he is not getting a response, he hears Sanemi's voice, rough and uncertain. “Near the end of the battle, I was at the brink of death, possibly even dead for a short while. I saw my family.”

A quiet breath slips past Giyuu's mouth. He remains silent and almost dares not to breathe.

“I felt my mother near me. I thought I was dead at that point, so I wanted to take her along to where my siblings were. But she cried. Said that she didn't deserve to go to heaven and be with them, not after what she did.

“So I thought I'd follow her into hell instead. But then my deadbeat, worthless excuse of a father showed up, and pulled us apart. He said some bullshit like I’m not going anywhere yet. And then I woke up.”

Sanemi sighs, burying his face in his hands. “I don't know if what I saw was real or not. But it kills me to think that she could be stuck with the bastard, all alone for who knows how long. She doesn't deserve to suffer anymore, no matter what she thinks of herself.”

Grief and anguish roll off Sanemi in violent tides. Fingers dig into his scalp in a white-knuckled grip. His head is crammed between his shoulders in an instinctive self-protective hunch to shield himself from the onslaught of agony.

“And then I was too weak and out of it to help in the final fight. I just feel so—useless. Like I hardly made a difference in anything. I fought so hard all my life but couldn’t do a single thing. Couldn’t save anyone - not my mother, not my siblings. Not Genya, whom I had to watch disappear right in front of my eyes, because I’ve been so fucking stupid and stubborn and blind.”

He exhales, loud and shaky.

“You are one of the strongest people I know, Shinazugawa.” Giyuu tries to say with as much delicate empathy as he can muster.

Sanemi laughs, sharp with false humor.

“It is true. Like you said, every Hashira is strong. And you survived. Regardless of how you managed to, it matters not. You may not have been able to save those who were important to you in this life, but I think they would want you to live on. I do not know how your mother passed, but she would have wanted you to cherish your life.”

As for Genya, as a younger brother himself Giyuu can probably surmise what Genya was feeling when he fought Upper Moon One alongside Sanemi. “I may not know your brother, but I believe he fought with the intention to protect you. He had fought for you, just like you had fought for him. That was his choice to make, do not belittle his choice to feed your self-flagellation.”

For a tense moment, Sanemi says nothing. With his face concealed behind his arms, Giyuu cannot see his expression to decipher his reaction.

“She died because of me.”

Giyuu looks at him.

“My mother became a demon and killed all my siblings except for Genya. I dragged her out and fought her until the sun rose and burned her to ash. Genya came out just in time to see me with a knife in my hand, blood on my face, and death in her eyes. He called me a murderer as he clutched her vanishing body.”

“He was young. Angry. And so were you.”

Sanemi says nothing.

“Do you still think he resents you?”

“When Genya—” Sanemi cannot find the heart to say the word, “—he said that I was the sweetest person in the world. Why on earth would he say that? After all that I've done and said to him?”

“Because you have been stupid and stubborn and blind. Exactly as you said.”

Sanemi chokes and stares at him. Hurt clouds his eyes.

“I—”

“Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi falls silent. His face remains twisted with pain. It is an awful look, and a pang of guilt digs into Giyuu knowing that he is the one who put it there.

Giyuu sighs, remorseful reluctance stalling his words for but a second. 

“Because your brother still loved you. You came back from the brink of death, be it by divine intervention or pure luck. You are one of the few who survived, and we probably only have a few more years to live. And yet you are spending this limited remaining time beating yourself up over someone who died protecting you. When you die, for real this time, will you be able to look your mother and siblings in the eye knowing that you have wasted your life away?”

Sanemi's jaw clenches with such crushing strain Giyuu worries his teeth would crack. His eyes burn into the ground in front of him. This is the one time Giyuu wants him to lash out, to fight back against his torrent of questioning. And yet he is vehemently, frightfully silent.

Giyuu leans forward slightly, tempering his tone into a cautious coax.

“It is okay to have regrets. I have many of my own as well, some that blinded me for years. I still think of them sometimes. But I am trying to carry on what has been entrusted to me by people I've lost.

“Shinazugawa. You lived because you were loved.”

Sanemi looks at him with wide eyes, unblinking and gaze faltering. Under the returning moonlight peeking out from parting clouds, Giyuu catches an unexpected sheen in them.

Almost immediately, Sanemi turns away. His fingers close into fist, grip trembling. His throat bobs but he makes no sound. Giyuu shifts his gaze away to the garden the moment he sees the first tear fall off his face.

They continue to sit in silence. Eventually Sanemi stands up wordlessly with his back turned to Giyuu. Giyuu tracks his movement with careful eyes, taking in the way creased cotton unfolds and ripples with every motion. He cannot see Sanemi’s face from where he sits, but he hears the profound relief in his voice when he speaks.

“Thank you.”

The next day, Sanemi drops by Giyuu's room on an early afternoon. Giyuu is reading one of Shinobu’s medical books. Medicine has never been much of an interest of his, but he has been thinking about her lately. So he had asked Kanao if he could drop by Shinobu’s office, and picked out a book filled with her handwritten notes.

When Sanemi turns up at his door, Giyuu glances up from his book and takes in the sight of him. He seems to be carrying himself in a slightly different manner. The shadows under his eyes are lighter. The tension lining his silhouette has eased up. When their eyes meet, there is a composure in his gaze that gives Giyuu pause.

And more noticeably, there is a bag strapped to him.

“Hey.” Sanemi adjusts the bag with his shoulder. “I’m heading off now.”

Giyuu puts the book down, feeling his stomach twist. He has been expecting this, ever since Sanemi first announced his intention to travel. However, lately he has found himself hoping that the day would come later rather than sooner. He has grown used to being under the same roof as Sanemi, to bumping into him in the hallway, to seeing Sanemi the first thing in the morning.

Perhaps it has been too long since he lived with someone other than his attendants, with someone he is starting to regard as a friend.

“Safe travels.” He says, hoping his voice does not betray his inner conflict.

Sanemi shifts his weight from one foot to another, gaze casted sideways in deep thought. Giyuu waits patiently for him to speak.

Eventually, Sanemi looks up. 

“You want to come with?”

Giyuu stares at Sanemi in shock, not expecting the invitation. Sanemi mistakes his silence as rejection and turns around with a grunt. “Or not. I did offer you this place - stay here for as long as you want. It’s none of my business.”

Sanemi begins to walk away, and Giyuu fears that if he lets Sanemi leave he will never have the chance to correct Sanemi’s interpretation again.

Scrambling to his feet, Giyuu rushes out the door after Sanemi. 

“Shinazugawa, wait.”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. But he does not turn around. Giyuu steps forward, heart racing in hopeful incredulity.

“Do you mean it?” Giyuu asks, trying not to let his anticipation seep into his voice too much lest he is setting himself up for disappointment.

“Mean what?”

“That you want me to come with you.”

Sanemi clicks his tongue. “Asshole. You think I am the sort of person who does not say what he means?”

“It’s not that. I had thought you would not want me at your side.”

Sanemi stiffens. He spins around to glare hotly at him. “Don’t put words in my mouth. And don’t phrase it like that!”

Giyuu blinks, unsure of how else he should have worded that.

Sanemi growls and rubs the back of his hair. Giyuu absently notes how it messes up his wind-swept hair even further.

“This place is huge. I just thought you’d go crazy being stuck here.”

Giyuu contemplates his words, and then his offer. 

“I will come with you.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I am not forcing you to agree or anything.”

“You are not. I am saying I want to be with you.”

Sanemi’s eye twitches. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble these days with the crap you spew.”

Giyuu tilts his head. Sanemi takes a deep breath to collect himself.

“Well, what are you standing around here for like a lamppost? Pack your shit!”

Giyuu smiles and walks back into his room to pack his things. Sanemi does not have the heart to yell at him to stop smiling.

They end up staying for one more night - so that Giyuu has more time to pack, and they can wrap up with the attendants now that Giyuu is also leaving. They are not sure how long they will be traveling, so the attendants will retire and leave soon after they are gone.

The next morning Giyuu walks to the gate, all packed and prepared, to find Sanemi already waiting there.

“Took you long enough.”

“Where are we heading first?”

Sanemi shrugs. “I don't know. I was planning to just go where my gut tells me.”

“You just don't want to use your head.”

Sanemi shoots him a half-hearted glare. “Oh, piss off. Can't that be a good thing? No orders, no instructions, no pressure. Just go where our feet take us.”

Giyuu ruminates on it. He has never really done anything like that before. There was always something that he needed to do - a mission, a task, some training.

He comes to a verdict with a smile. “That does sound like a good thing.”

Sanemi smirks. “Come on. Better keep up if you don't want me to leave you behind.”

Giyuu steps forward to catch up with Sanemi. He turns to look back at the estate behind him, committing to memory a place he has just gotten used to, before facing forward again.

Sparing a glance at Sanemi, he sees a rare carefree smile on his face and feels the corners of his own lips tugging up in response. Though Giyuu is unsure what the journey ahead entails, he is filled with quiet anticipation at what tomorrow may bring.

Chapter Text

When Sanemi says he is planning to go where his guts tell him, he unapologetically means it. Not that it surprises Giyuu. Still, it is mildly interesting— exciting even— to wander down the road before them with no destination in mind.

They trek along the well-treaded path, brushing shoulders past an occasional traveller. 

“The last time I walked this road, it was for a mission.” Sanemi remarks pensively. “It’s absurd how different things are now.”

Giyuu nods. “A good absurd.”

That sparks a snicker out of Sanemi. “A good absurd, huh? I suppose that’s going to be the new normal for us now.”

Majority of their walk continues in silence, but there is a carefree comfort in that quiet. The trees rustle in the wind, carrying soft birdsong in the breeze.

They arrive at a town nearby by evenfall. Locating the only inn in that area, they go to rent some rooms for the night.

“I deeply apologize,” the inn owner bows low in a regretful arch, “we only have one room left tonight. It is big enough to accommodate two people, so please do not worry about the space.”

Giyuu glances at Sanemi, expecting him to express some level of dissatisfaction. Though they both had slept in cramper corners far worse than a small inn room, they are no longer running low on options and time with the looming threat of demons hanging over their heads.

But Sanemi only shrugs, seemingly alright with the idea of sharing a room with him. He tells the inn owner that they will take the room.

“Compared to sleeping up on a tree where you wake up with bugs crawling all over you, this is luxury.” Sanemi mutters to him as they head up to their room.

A common occurrence, if they had to stay the night in a forest. Giyuu thinks back on one of the more dreadful experiences he had.

“There was once where I fought a demon right after a thunderstorm. I was covered in mud from head to toe by the end of the battle, and was so exhausted that I fell asleep without cleaning myself. It was not a good sensation to wake up to.”

Sanemi grimaces in sympathy. “Well, no surprise on your abysmal efforts to maintain yourself, judging by the state of the rat’s nest you called your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

Sanemi stares at him in bewildered disbelief. “You—nevermind. It always looked messy. I’m glad you chopped it off.”

“ You did, Shinazugawa.”

“Whatever.”

After picking their side of the room, they begin unpacking and preparing for the night.

Sanemi spares a glance at Giyuu as he unwraps his pack. A corner of the headache-inducing green and yellow pokes out from the pile.

“You packed your ugly haori with you as well?”

Giyuu nods, his face softening into a fond expression. “It goes where I go, even if I don’t wear it anymore.”

As he promised to himself, he will no longer shoulder his memories of his friend and sister like a burden. But they are still a part of him, he wants to bring them along in his travels and see the world like he wishes they had the chance to.

“At least you’re not wearing it. It hurts my eyes to even look at it.”

Giyuu runs his palm over his haori, feeling the bumps where Nezuko stitched the fabrics together. Sanemi notes the way his thin fingers trail along the cloth, as if memorizing the count of threads by touch.

“What’s up with that, anyway? It clearly isn’t your style, so I assume it belongs to someone else.”

“Yes. My older sister and my best friend.”

Sanemi takes a long look at the haori that Giyuu is so reverently touching. Everyone in the corps has a tragic story to tell, let alone people as driven to kill demons like the Hashira. The fact that Giyuu is no longer wearing it is not lost on him, though.

He does not say any of that. “Figures. Of course you are a younger sibling, with how spoiled and bratty you are.”

Giyuu turns to look at him and Sanemi almost chokes at the way his face scrunches. 

“I am not.” Bastard is outright pouting. He doubts Giyuu even registers himself doing it.

“Whatever you say.” An offhand comment tempts at the tip of his tongue, and it must have been the exhaustion from the day’s travel that loosens his tongue enough to release it.

“Besides, you look better in blue anyway.”

He hears the shuffling stop immediately and his face burns. Without even looking he can feel Giyuu’s stare boring into the back of his head. Sanemi angles his body away while focusing on unpacking his own bag, adamant on not returning his look.

“...Okay.” Is all Giyuu ends up responding with before he turns back. Sanemi releases a quiet sigh. He has always been critically candid with Giyuu about his displeasure towards him. Now that there is no more resentment to draw from, it appears that he is noticing other aspects of him, aspects that are comparably much more favorable. 

Perhaps he too should be careful with his words.

They usually stay in one area for one to two nights, and spend most of their time on the road. Most of the populated places they come across are towns and villages, though Giyuu gets distracted once in a while by shops he can potentially get gifts from. Sanemi tries his best to restrain him from purchasing every shiny thing he sees.

While they are passing through one of the next towns, Giyuu sees a crow approaching them in the sky. Judging by the steady beat of its wings, he knows it is not his frail worrisome crow.

Giyuu recognizes Matsuemon, having received numerous letters from Tanjirou by now. It sinks its claws into his shoulder to find purchase, nudging its beak into Giyuu’s cheek in haughty impatience.

The letter is filled to the edges with Tanjirou’s enthusiastic scrawl as always. In this one, he expresses his gratitude for the gifts and passes on Nezuko’s thanks, sharing that she is putting the trinket box into good use already. He also asks how it has been living with Sanemi, and hopes he is keeping well. 

Going through every line, Giyuu’s chest swells with happiness. Each word is overflowing with Tanjirou’s kindness, a well of compassion that never dries.

“What's the squirt saying that's making you smile like that?”

Giyuu looks up to see Sanemi regarding him curiously.

“Tanjirou thanked me for the gifts. I am glad they like them.”

Sanemi scoffs as he crosses his arms. “They’d better. If they dare to be ungrateful, I’m going to pull that nose of Kamado’s so hard you can see that stupid thing all the way from Kumamoto.”

Giyuu chuckles. “I have you to thank as well. You helped me pick out the gifts.”

That earns him a scowl from Sanemi. “Yeah, and it was the most stressful shopping experience in my life. How many hair pins does one person need?”

“It's so that Nezuko has a few options to choose from.” He answers with a straight, earnest face.

As Sanemi grumbles on and airs his grievances, Giyuu spots a familiar restaurant sign in the distance. It has almost slipped his mind – this place serves one of the best salmon daikon in this area. He feels his stomach already growling in anticipation.

“Shinazugawa. I owe you a meal.”

“Huh?” Sanemi jolts, staring at him in bafflement. “Since when?”

Giyuu inclines his head. “Since the start.”

Sanemi narrows his eyes until he catches his meaning. He waves a hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Alright.” Giyuu stops and looks at him. “Then let’s do this differently. Shinazugawa, would you like to get salmon daikon with me?”

A reversal of their first interaction. A smug smirk spreads across Sanemi’s lips. “Sure.”

Giyuu leads him to the restaurant ahead. Ducking inside, the aroma of cooked fish warms him up immediately. Taking an appreciative breath, he sweeps his gaze across the place as they get seated. The restaurant has hardly changed, a small comfort.

Sanemi notices the pleased look on his face. “You have been here before?”

“Only when my missions send me to this region. It is not often, but I try to eat here when I can.”

They order their bowls of salmon daikon, which are soon served to their table.

Steam wafts up from the freshly made dish, the sweet aroma of the salmon and radish reaching his nose. Giyuu takes a moment to admire it before he picks up his chopsticks. After murmuring his gratitude, he takes a bite of salmon. It tastes just as heavenly as the first time he ate it here.

Glancing up to see how Sanemi is finding his food, he instead sees Sanemi gawking at him, wide-eyed.

Giyuu raises a brow, questioning.

Sanemi shakes his head. “Nothing. Just that, I have never seen you smile like that.”

Giyuu raises a finger to the corner of his lip. 

Sanemi snorts, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You like salmon daikon that much?”

“My sister would bring me to eat it whenever I feel sad, to cheer me up. So whenever I eat salmon daikon, I feel better.”

Giyuu takes another bite of his meal, lips curling around his chopsticks into a private smile. 

“It's good, though.” Sanemi says after a few bites. “I don't usually eat this, but I can see why you like it.”

“Because you have ohagi for breakfast, lunch and dinner?”

“And your innards for supper, if you keep talking shit.”

They decide to stay the night in the area. At this point, they have been asking for a single room instead of two without checking if the inn can spare two rooms. Giyuu had asked Sanemi a few towns ago, if he was alright to keep staying in the same room.

“Yeah, I don’t see a problem with that.” Sanemi had looked at him with wary hesitance. “Unless you do?”

Giyuu does not see an issue with it either, so they kept this arrangement until now. Even though they have enough coin to book out every entire inn they go to, thanks to years of being Hashira, their thrifty habits, and now the Ubuyashiki family’s continuous tokens of gratitude—they keep this arrangement.

Neither bothers to think much about it.

The next town they arrive at is much different.

Neither of them have passed through here before. It is small and quaint. They get some cautious glances as they walk by, aimed more at Sanemi than Giyuu however.

It dawns on Giyuu that a man as visibly scarred as Sanemi is intimidating to a common civilian. And if the town is as peaceful as it seems, they probably had the fortune of being untainted by demons, especially since neither of them were sent here for assignments.

Rambunctious barks of laughter erupt ahead. Two rowdy young men around their age are stumbling around, slapping each other on the back as they share a lively moment of humor. They spot Sanemi and Giyuu walking towards them and start yelling to catch their attention.

“Hey, you! What's up with those scars?”

Sanemi pointedly ignores them, veering off course to bend a wider curve around them. But the two men, spurred by drunken courage, continue to call out to him. 

“Did you get in a fight or something?” They stagger forward, cutting into their path. Sanemi releases a vexed groan. He can easily shoulder past them, but they are drawing unwanted attention from passers-by. He would rather not attract any more curious gazes.

“Woah, you look scarier up close.” One of them gawks at him in morbid fascination.

Fuck it. This is why he loathes drunkards. Sanemi aims to slip through the gap between two of them, shooting Giyuu a quick side glance to indicate that he should do the same. But as he bumps shoulders into them, one of them yelps in annoyance and grabs onto him.

Instincts kick in and he seizes the man's hand in a tense grip, causing his indignant yelp to twist into a pained wail.

“What is wrong with you?” 

“You were in my way.” Sanemi snaps back.

“You're breaking my fingers, asshole!”

“Trust me, if I were to actually do that, you wouldn't even be able to run your mouth right now.”

He tightens his hold to prove his point. The man's eyes pop wide open, garbled noises of pain wheezing out of him.

“Hey, let him go!” The second man demands in a slurred yell. His hand flies out towards Sanemi, who easily intercepts it with his right hand.

The man flinches at the sight of two missing fingers.

“What the—”

Sanemi glowers at him, his thinning patience ripping at the seams. “Piss off, if you know what's good for you.”

“How dare you—”

At this moment, Giyuu steps between Sanemi and the man, levelling the stranger with a firm look.

“We mean you no harm. Let things be, we will be on our way now.”

A tense moment of coiled silence hangs in the air before Sanemi releases his grip with a snarl and the two drunk men yank their hands away. 

Shooting them a foul sneer, the second man nurses his hand irritably. Giyuu turns away, relieved at the swift deescalation. He is about to walk off when the man speaks again.

“Fuck, we were just messing around. What are you, his rent boy? You got the fucking face to match.”

Giyuu barely registers the next moment. A blur shoots from behind him and collides into the man's face, so rapid even his eyes hardly catch the motion.

He hears a dull thud of bone against bone, a sickening crunch, and a shrill cry of sheer pain.

Blinking in muted shock, he glances at the arm extended next to his face from behind him. Familiar scars curl around corded muscle. He blinks again, and Sanemi storms past him towards the attacked man— who is now bending over and clutching his bleeding face in pain— and begins pummeling him into the ground.

The gathering crowd, a growing circle from the commotion, begins to cry out and gasp and the nosedive the situation has taken. The first man, seeing his companion being beaten up, rushes in to retaliate. Giyuu sticks a leg out, tripping him and sending him crashing onto the ground.

He rushes to Sanemi, reaching out to pull him away from the fight. But a hand grabs onto Giyuu's arm. He spins around in surprise to see an older woman looking up at him in concern.

“It's best to stay out of such violence, young man.”

Giyuu frowns. “That is my companion. I should intervene.”

Her brows lift in judgemental disbelief. “That savage man?”

Giyuu does not appreciate her calling Sanemi as such, but there are more important priorities at hand. “Pardon me.”

He slips out of her grip, ignoring her alarmed protests. She reaches her hand out again, this time to grab at his right arm—only to find herself closing her fist around a hollow sleeve.

“Oh!” She gasps, a sound so startled that he falters in his step. Throwing a glance back at her, he follows her fixated line of gaze to his fluttering sleeve. Her reaction catches the attention of the other curious onlookers who realize what has shocked her so.

Giyuu feels his face burn, seared by the iron of abashment. Pinned by eyes filled with melancholic curiosity, he is flooded with the urge to burrow into the ground. Yet, his legs are rooted on the spot.

The nauseating scrutiny. It is awfully, painfully familiar.

Accusing fingers and pitying glances at his sister's drying blood on his hands. Poorly concealed whispers behind raised hands. Murmurs of unwanted sympathy at best. Conspiratorial hisses of his mental state at worst.

Poor boy, cursed with such violence and tragedy.

Who did it? Who could have done it?

A bear? A wolf? A deranged drunkard?

Look at the boy, screaming about a demon. Poor child, unable to accept what he saw.

Poor boy, he has gone mad.

Suddenly, firm fingers curl around his wrist and yank him forward.

Giyuu snaps his gaze up, up, up. Calloused fingers to a scarred arm to an olive green sleeve to wild brushstrokes of white hair.

Sanemi tugs him away, parting the crowd with a murderous glare.

The noise in his ears fades as the crowd disappears behind them. Giyuu numbly keeps up with Sanemi, who continues to wordlessly pull him along.

They eventually turn into a quiet alley, away from prying eyes and idle ears. Without letting go of Giyuu, Sanemi spins to face him. His gaze is piercing, something akin to concern simmering beneath the surface.

“Hey. Tomioka.”

“Shinazugawa.” Giyuu exhales, breathless as if he has sprinted for miles.

Sanemi gives him a crooked smirk. “Yeah, that's my name.”

Giyuu does not say anything. He glances down at the hand encircling his wrist. The knuckles are stained with blood—from the other man, no doubt. Drunken fellow is probably still curled up on the ground, reeling in pain.

“Sorry.” The apology spills out in a low mumble.

Sanemi frowns. “What for?”

Sanemi did not have to defend him. It was an inane comment borne from resentment, the primal urge to snap one's teeth at an unknown threat. Giyuu would have walked off, undeterred and pride obstinately intact.

But Sanemi, with compassion in the form of sharp edges and barbed shields, unleashes hell and himself upon the wrongdoers.

With the fading distress comes the curdling shame. Once again, he has received protection at the expense of his protector.

Giyuu tugs his undeserving wrist out of Sanemi’s grip. The furrow in Sanemi’s brows deepen, sensing a dip in his mood. “What's wrong?”

Before the shame can overflow, Giyuu reels it in with his teacher's words.

“You must always remember the surface of water. Be still and peaceful, like the reflective surface of water.”

He takes a deep breath, steadying the erratic flutter of his heart into a calm cadence.

A tranquil, unrippling lull.

With that comes the sweeping suppression of emotions.

“Eyes on me, Tomioka.” Sanemi calls out again. “What's up with you?” 

A blank expression takes over Giyuu's face as he deliberately looks away. “It's nothing.” 

“Doesn't feel like nothing to me.” Sanemi steps closer, only for Giyuu to take a step back. That prompts a falter in Sanemi’s movement.

“Hey. Talk to me.” The tone in Sanemi’s voice grows urgent.

Giyuu remains stubbornly silent.

Sanemi begins to seethe, lips curling to reveal a hint of teeth. “Asshole. What did I say about responding with more than one line or nothing at all?”

Giyuu remembers exactly what he said, and he does the exact opposite.

“Fine. Keep your mouth shut until you're done throwing a tantrum. Fucking bastard.”

He storms off with an infuriated curse, leaving Giyuu in the alley.

Giyuu stares blankly at the space that Sanemi had taken up mere seconds ago. Remorse and shame roll off him, clinging onto the ends of his kimono in last-ditch desperation before slipping off the edges.

Not a single word is exchanged between them the rest of the evening.

Giyuu steals a glance at Sanemi when he meets him at the inn, who refuses to even look in his direction.

“Give us two rooms.” Sanemi tells the innkeeper curtly.

Ah, Giyuu thinks as he looks down at his feet, he really messed up this time.

Without acknowledging him, Sanemi strides off to his own room and leaves him with the innkeeper. 

Staring at his retreating back, Giyuu feels a peculiar twinge of abandonment. It is strange. Whenever Sanemi gets angry at him, he does not hesitate to make his resentment known. But he is choosing to disregard him entirely this time.

Bitterly, Giyuu would rather get yelled at a thousand times until his ears ring, than to be ignored like he never existed. Like he never mattered to Sanemi.

He is at a complete loss on how to make this right. He spends the rest of the night mostly boring a hole at the ceiling with his eyes, mulling in silence. 

The next day, Giyuu attempts to find Sanemi at his room. He knocks on the door a few times, but no response. Deciding to take the more direct approach, he opens it.

Only to find it empty.

Giyuu sweeps his gaze across the space, void of the person he sees practically every waking hour in recent times. The dire reality of the situation strikes even harder. He wonders if he has not only unwittingly re-opened the fissure in their relationship, but driven the cracks even deeper.

With certainty Giyuu knows he will not be able to find Sanemi if he does not want to be found. Still, he tries his luck and wanders along the streets, passing shops and people for the person he wants to see the most.

Idly, he thinks he ought to start considering what to say to Sanemi when he eventually finds him. He will apologize again, that is for sure. As for whether Sanemi is willing to listen, that depends on who will out-stubborn the other.

Suddenly, a sweet aroma of fresh pancakes wafts over. Giyuu stops in his tracks as he tries to locate the source. He spots a stall selling dorayaki. The owner is currently preparing a new batch, flipping over fluffy pancakes no larger than the size of his palm.

Before he registers it, Giyuu is already walking over to the stall.

“Good morning, young man!” The owner greets him cheerfully as he approaches. “Would you like to try some dorayaki?”

Giyuu has not eaten since he woke up, so he readily agrees.

The owner picks up the pancakes that he just finished. Spreading a generous amount of red bean paste on one side of a pancake, he puts another pancake on top in finality.

“Here you go. Please enjoy!” He hands it over to Giyuu.

The dorayaki is hot in his hand, its warmth seeping into his fingers and palm. Giyuu experiments with a bite. The soft airy sponge of the pancake melts easily to reveal the sweet paste.

It's good. Giyuu thinks Sanemi will enjoy this too.

Giyuu buys two more, pockets the bag in the right sleeve of his kimono and continues his search for Sanemi.

Barely giving himself time to rest, he wanders until the sun begins to set. Streaks of orange paint across the sky. The sinking sun pulls the veils of amber and pink along with it, letting the evening blue crawl across the sky to take its place.

Just then, he hears a light bark and instinctively inclines his head towards the source.

There stands a black-coated dog, its tail wagging animatedly. Crouched in front of it is Sanemi, patting it from head to back. He is wearing a serene smile, expression soft with affection.

Giyuu does not know how long he stares at him, transfixed by such a strangely tender look. A peculiar pang hits him, filling him with a wish to see such a sight more often.

When Sanemi looks up and meets his gaze, Giyuu is struck with a sore reminder why such an opportunity is hard to come by.

The softness in his face stiffens. Sanemi's eyes narrow, the warmth in them chased away by cool indifference. Not a single word comes out of him, so Giyuu is overcome by the compulsion to speak instead.

“Shinazugawa. It's getting late.”

A scoff slips out of Sanemi, cold and harsh. “And you're here to fetch me? What are you, my servant?”

“No. I was just wondering where you had been.”

Giyuu shifts his gaze to the dog. It stares at him with what he assumes to be suspicion — at least, the closest thing to suspicion a dog is capable of looking.

Discomforted by the intensity of its gaze, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. When a dog sets its sights on him, he is usually a few seconds away from being chased or mauled. The coiled up energy in his legs builds up in trepid anticipation, ready to put him at a safe distance from the animal.

Sanemi seems to notice his wariness. “You scared of dogs?”

“No. They don't like me.”

Sanemi snorts. “Figures. They have a good judge of character.”

Giyuu does not know what he means by that. Sanemi observes him for a while before jerking his chin at the dog.

“Come over. You can pet ‘im.”

Giyuu adamantly does not move.

Sanemi clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t be a fucking coward. I'm not going to let him bite you.”

Giyuu stares at him warily. The watchful glint in the dog’s eyes says otherwise.

Sanemi lets out a low sigh. He meets Giyuu’s eyes, gaze resolute and voice firm.

“I promise.”

Compelled by a sense of reassurance, Giyuu takes a hesitant step to test the waters, and then another. The low growl emitting from the dog gives him pause, but a gentle shush and cajoling pat from Sanemi calms it down.

Giyuu trudges until he is a few feet away from Sanemi, who rolls his eyes at the distance.

“You got a tree branch for your arm? Get your ass over here.”

Reluctantly, Giyuu ventures a few more steps forward.

“Raise your hand towards him. Slowly. Let him smell you.”

“I only have one hand left, Shinazugawa.” Giyuu reminds him as he eyes the dog's sharp gaze and even sharper canines. But as he does as told.

It sniffs at Giyuu’s hand. Giyuu tenses, preparing to pull back.

But before he can do so, Sanemi reaches out to hold his wrist. His thumb presses against the base of his palm.

“He can sense if you're nervous. They're smart like that. Don't give him a reason to be nervous too.”

Sanemi speaks in a low tone, a notch above a murmur. A wave of calm washes over Giyuu and he feels his unease rippling away. Shaking off the unpleasant memories of being bitten by dogs, he focuses on the feeling of Sanemi’s hand on his to anchor himself.

The dog sniffs at him for a few more seconds. Then, it turns away in lost interest.

A relieved exhale slips out of Giyuu as Sanemi looks at him with a crooked grin.

“See? Not so difficult, was it?”

Giyuu stares at the dog in dazed disbelief. That is the first time a dog does not attack him on sight.

“You are good with dogs.”

Sanemi shrugs. “I like dogs.”

They both observe the animal, sniffing at the ground and wandering off to follow its nose after a trail unknown to either of them.

Seeing that this is as good a time as any, Giyuu turns back to Sanemi. 

“Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi side-eyes him.

Giyuu digs the bag of dorayaki from his sleeve and hands it over to him. “I have something for you.”

Getting up from his crouched position, Sanemi regards it with narrow-eyed skepticism. “What is that.”

“An apology.”

Taking the bag with a guarded look in his eyes, Sanemi peers inside the bag. The dorayaki have already cooled at this point. Faintly, he wonders how long the idiot has been holding on to it.

“Real persistent, aren't you.”

So he has been told, Giyuu thinks to himself.

Giyuu does not want to revert back to the rocky relationship he had with Sanemi. Though he is not unfamiliar with hostility from the quick-tempered man, somehow his chest aches in pain now as compared to troubled confusion as it had been in the past.

He does not know what this entails exactly, but he knows one thing with utmost certainty: he does not want Sanemi to look at him like they are strangers ever again.

“Sorry.”

Sanemi sighs, weary. “Again with the apology. I don’t need it. I just want to know what’s going on in that thick head of yours.”

Giyuu looks down. “I didn't want to be a burden.”

Sanemi frowns. “Where is that coming from?”

“You defended me yesterday.”

“Cause they were being stupid.” Sanemi scoffs with a sharp flick of his hand. “They had it coming.”

“You punched one of them for what he said to me. It didn't bother me.”

“Good for you. Doesn't mean he can get away with it.”

Giyuu considers him for a moment, his opinion of the other man solidifying even further. “You are a kind man, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi flinches and glances away. “I wouldn't consider that kindness. Just giving them what they deserved.”

Giyuu wants to insist otherwise, but he thinks better than to push at this point.

“So you shut down on me because you thought you were a burden?” Sanemi runs his hand through his hair with a disgruntled sigh. “First you thought you weren't worthy to be a Hashira, now you think you're not worth defending?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?” Sanemi leans forward, brows pinched together in frustration. “Tomioka, help me understand.”

Giyuu tenses, running his fingers down the hem of his kimono only to realize it is not his old haori that he seeks comfort in. Sanemi’s gaze darts down, catching the movement.

“I do not wish to be protected anymore.”

Exasperated disbelief flashes across Sanemi’s face. “Who is? Cause I sure as fuck am not your savior, nor do I plan to be. Get your head out of your ass, I'm not that selfless.”

Giyuu stares at him.

“Are you going to shut me out if you trip and I help you to your feet, or what?”

“No, I—” Giyuu sighs in frustration. “You got hurt trying to help me.”

Sanemi raises a brow. “So? That's my choice to make.”

“That is precisely why it upsets me. People who chose to help me, protect me…they died.”

Sanemi freezes. He backs off, contemplation crossing his face. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, Giyuu looks away. An uneasy moment of silence passes.

“I wanted to die.” Sanemi says.

Giyuu snaps his gaze up to him in shock. Sanemi is not looking at him, his lips pursed into a tight line.

“At least, I was prepared to. When I lost Genya, I had nothing left to live for. I didn't care if I had died back then, as long as I died fighting. That meant I would see him, and my siblings and mother again.

“But I didn't die. And then someone told me that I better live my life well or I wouldn't be able to look my family in the eye when I see them again.”

Sanemi’s eyes flicker back to stare straight at him. Giyuu feels his breath catch in his throat.

“You can't stop people from wanting to help you. So instead of making them feel bad for doing it, why don't you thank them instead for caring? Whatever happened to that ‘I want to be friends’ goal you had? Or have you already given up on it, you hypocrite? Cause this disaster of an attitude sure ain't doing you any favors.”

Giyuu gawks at him, gobsmacked.

Sanemi rests his hands on his hips, gaze firm. “So tell me, Tomioka. What should you say to me, instead of apologizing?” 

It takes Giyuu a few seconds to remember how his tongue works. “...Thank you.”

Sanemi huffs, seemingly appeased. “You’re welcome.”

Giyuu does not know what else to say, so he changes the topic. “How are your hands?”

Sanemi raises them to give them a nonchalant onceover. “They're fine, barely a scratch on them. It's all healed up now. I've punched things tougher than a human face.”

Giyuu peers at his hands. True to his words, there is hardly any evidence of his one-sided brawl yesterday, save for healed scabs on a few knuckles.

Without thinking, Giyuu reaches to lightly touch the scabs, fingers brushing against rough surfaces. Sanemi startles but he does not move his hands away.

Giyuu thinks about these battle-scarred hands, hardened over years of brutal bloodbath. And yet, the wrath they wrought was inflicted with the burning devotion to protect. A fire that burns so fervently it has no qualms about scorching itself to ash if it means saving those with its flames.

“I hope these hands will have the chance to heal completely.”

Sanemi stares at Giyuu in astonished silence. He'd never expect such words from him — stoic, cold, emotionless Tomioka Giyuu.

Except he isn't anymore, is he? The Tomioka Giyuu of today would smile when Sanemi says something snarky. The Tomioka Giyuu of today would stumble into every store that sells clothes, trinkets and food that he thinks the Kamado siblings would like. The Tomioka Giyuu of today had sat down with him, gave him a metaphorical slap in the face and guided him out of his spiralling void of self-deprecation.

“Shinazugawa. You lived because you were loved.”

“Tomioka.”

Giyuu looks up into his eyes. And suddenly Sanemi forgets what he wants to say.

When Sanemi does not follow up with a response, Giyuu blinks in confusion. “Shinazugawa?”

“No—it's nothing.” Sanemi lowers his hands, gaze shifting away. “Let's go back. Didn't you say it’s getting late?”

Giyuu’s face softens.

“Okay.”

Remembering he is still holding on to the bag of dorayaki, Sanemi tries one. It has cooled at this point, though the pancake is still soft. The red bean paste is sweet, but Sanemi thinks it is no match for the smile on Giyuu’s face. 

At the next inn they stay at, they go back to staying in one room. Neither thinks too much about it.

Giyuu wakes up to the sound of Sanemi twisting and turning in his futon. Squinting through the darkness to seek him out, Giyuu spots him tossing around and mumbling incomprehensibly under his breath. Sanemi is sweating in his sleep, brows pressed into a troubled frown. Nightmares are not a foreign occurrence for them, and yet a compulsion to smooth the frown away with his thumb rises up in Giyuu. He ignores it.

He counts to a full minute to see if Sanemi will calm down on his own - he does not. So he slips out of his futon and shakes his shoulder.

Sanemi jolts awake with a gasp. “Wha—Genya—huh?”

“Shinazugawa. You were having a bad dream.”

Sanemi’s eyes dim and reality slowly sinks in. “Oh.”

They both stew in uncomfortable silence for a while. Giyuu leans back into a more comfortable kneeling position and sits on his heels.

“My bad…did I wake you?”

He did, but Giyuu does not want to lie. So he remains silent.

Sanemi sighs and presses the base of his palms against his eyes. “Ugh. Fucking nightmares. They never go away, do they?”

Giyuu can relate. His own nightmares still catch him unaware and haunt him at times.

Last time Sanemi had offered to listen to him talk about his nightmare. So Giyuu offers the same.

But Sanemi shakes his head tiredly. “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

Giyuu observes him, taking in the shadows that shroud his eyes, the way his lips twist into an exhausted line.

“What kind of person was he? Shinazugawa Genya.”

Sanemi’s breath stops short at the mention of his brother. Fearing that he has crossed a boundary, Giyuu falls silent and waits for the outburst. But it never comes.

“Genya was the second eldest, right after me. He has a good heart, always looking after our younger siblings. He constantly followed me around and we’d stick with each other. Until what happened with our mother, that is.

“I became a demon slayer after that, killed every last fucking demon I found so he can live a normal life without those monsters. And yet stupid asshole, too stupidly kind for his own good, had gone to follow me again. And again and again and again. And this time I wasn't able to protect him. Now I have to live with this regret.”

Sanemi hides his eyes behind one hand and lets out a shaky breath.

Giyuu regards him silently. Throwing a glance back, he eyes his old haori, folded in his bag. A reminder, an encouragement.

“I dream about Sabito often. He was my best friend, and we trained under the same teacher together.”

Sanemi does not remove his hand from his eyes, but he inclines his head to indicate he is listening.

“I always thought Sabito should have been the Water Hashira.”

At that, Sanemi looks up. 

“He's better than me in every way. He learns faster than me. He's stronger, smarter, quicker. Better at talking too, I had always been quite shy.” Giyuu smiles in wry amusement, acknowledging his reticent nature.

His smile dims when he recounts the fateful night during the Final Selection. The despair at the sight of Sabito’s back vanishing in the growing distance as his vision fades to an obscure, dreadful black.

“I was not even there to see his last moments. I was too busy passed out, safe and sound, while he was out there fighting for his life. For years I blamed myself and thought I should have died in his place. Because he would have made a much better warrior, and a much better Hashira, than me.

“But only recently, I was reminded of his words.” Giyuu raises a hand to his left cheek, recalling the sharp sting of Sabito’s palm as if it were yesterday. “That I should carry on the will, strength and memories of those I have cared about and lost.”

“This Sabito sounds like a good man.”

Giyuu smiles. “He would have been honored to hear you say that. You two would have gotten along.”

Sanemi smirks. “That or we will constantly be at each other’s necks. There would have been no in-between.”

“Perhaps.” Sabito is fiercely loyal with a strict sense of honor. With the way Sanemi treated him in the past, Sabito would have given Sanemi a piece of his mind or even a fist to the face, corps rules be damned. Giyuu smiles at the conjured image, and Sanemi observes him.

“You really looked up to him, huh.”

“I did. I still do. It is hard to make the guilt go away. But now whenever I feel lacking in some way, I think of Sabito, of my sister, and remember what I have promised. To them, and to myself.”

Giyuu looks at Sanemi, eyes softening. “Perhaps if you think about Genya similarly, it will help you as well.”

“Maybe. He’s gonna be mad if I beat myself up over him. He'd nag if I don't take care of myself.”

Giyuu’s face softens with a gentle expression. “He sounds like you.”

“You think so?” Sanemi scoffs, cracking a slight smile. “Anyway, thanks for that.”

Giving Sanemi one more sweeping glance, Giyuu pushes himself to his feet and shuffles back to his futon.

“Goodnight, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi returns the courtesy with a casual wave of his hand.

Over at the next town, they had just stepped out of a ramen shop when Tanjirou’s crow lands on Sanemi’s shoulder. 

“I did not know you kept in touch in Tanjirou.” Giyuu remarks as Sanemi plucks the letter from the crow with a displeased scowl.

“I don’t.” Sanemi puts away the letter without opening it. “He writes to me sometimes. I don’t reply.”

“Why not?” 

“He just talks about boring things like updates in his life, and he asks what I’ve been doing. I don’t see the point in responding.”

“That is his way of connecting with you. It seems he wants to get to know you more.”

Sanemi stares at him, puzzled. “Why? We hardly know each other.”

“Because that is the kind of person Tanjirou is.”

Skeptical, Sanemi raises a brow. “Really? He even said he didn’t respect me. So why would he even try?”

Giyuu smiles in understanding. “Tanjirou is very kind. Even if you shut him out, he will always try to open his heart to you. This is just who he is.”

“Is that why you’re so soft with him?”

Giyuu nods, his smile widening at the memory of Tanjiro’s constant badgering. “You may grow irritated at his persistence, but if you decide to let him in you may find a great friend in him.”

Sanemi huffs grumpily. “I will pass, thank you. I have no need for brats in my life.”

He has no message for Matsuemon to pass on. This prompts an indignant caw, so Giyuu steps in and asks him to convey his regards to Tanjirou and Nezuko. 

Giyuu steals a glance at Sanemi before adding. “Please also tell Tanjirou to keep writing to Shinazugawa. I know he does not reply, but Shinazugawa would appreciate knowing that he is well-regarded by him and Nezuko.”

Sanemi pins him with a glare. “Tomioka you fucking—”

Matsuemon takes flight, leaping into the air with a sharp flap of his wings.

Sanemi narrows his eyes at Giyuu, who stares back with unapologetic, unwavering calm.

“The next time I get a letter from Kamado, I’m shoving it up your ass.”

“Allow me to read it before you do so. I am sure Tanjirou will include his reply to me, so I want to have a look first.”

True to his words, when Matsuemon eventually returns with a new letter, it is filled with Tanjirou’s familiar scrawl, dynamic with his excitement and surprise at Giyuu’s message. As requested, he is unabashed with his appreciation of Shinazugawa, expressing his admiration for Sanemi’s strength and fighting spirit.

Nezuko also adds her input, saying that he has very kind eyes. Giyuu does not expect such an observation and peers at Sanemi’s eyes to see what she means.

His irises are a perceptive purple, sharp like a polished blade. The intensity in his typically piercing gaze makes it impossible for Giyuu to look away. But on the rare occasion when that gaze softens, it warms into a mesmerizing lilac and Giyuu would be unable to look away for a different reason.

He thinks he understands what Nezuko intends to say.

Right now, his eyes are piercing as usual, if not more so. Sanemi already has his shoulders hunched up and arms crossed in annoyance when he reads the letter, so Giyuu’s unwanted attention only causes him to bristle further.

“What are you looking at, asshole? Proud of your cheeky handiwork?”

Giyuu smiles, unashamed. “Yes.”

Sanemi sneers in warning. “You have five seconds to run before I stuff this stupid letter down your throat.”

Giyuu knows he cannot outrun Sanemi. Instead he snatches the paper and tucks it underneath his kimono.

Mockingly, Sanemi turns his nose up at him. “You think that’s going to stop me?”

Giyuu tilts his head. “You will undress a helpless, one-armed man in broad daylight?”

Sanemi’s jaw drops. “You’re fucking hopeless. I can tell the entire world that you’re a conniving piece of shit and no one is ever going to believe me.”

He storms off in huffs and grumbles. A secretive smile tugs at Giyuu’s lips before he goes after him.

The journey to the next town over is more than a day’s trek. They are prepared to take shelter in a forest for the night, a common occurrence in their demon slaying days. However, Sanemi spots a farmhouse a while after the sun disappears behind the horizon.

There is light in the windows, so they head over to knock on the door. Moments pass before it opens to reveal an old woman peeking out from behind, the top of her head barely reaching Sanemi's shoulder.

“Pardon the intrusion. We're on our way to the town roughly ten miles from here but it is getting a little late to continue travelling. Would you be willing to spare a room for us tonight? We are more than happy to compensate accordingly.”

She looks at him from head to toe and does the same for Giyuu. After a pause of consideration, she opens the door fully to let them in.

The old woman calls herself Yoshida. She leads them to an empty room and gestures to the main amenities. Sanemi and Giyuu thank her several times as she retires to her own room.

“We are quite fortunate to find shelter.” Giyuu says as they settle down for the night.

Sanemi nods. “People tend to be less wary in the outskirts. Maybe we can find some way to repay her kindness tomorrow.”

The next morning, Sanemi is the first to get up. Giyuu dozes on in the futon next to him, so he leaves as quietly as he can.

When Sanemi wanders to search for water, he comes across a garden in the back of the house.

It is beautiful stretch of greenery, lush with plants glowing in the morning sun. Yoshida is tending to the vegetation, elbows deep in the growing stems. Upon hearing sounds of shuffling, she looks up and smiles kindly.

“Good morning, young man. Did you sleep well?”

Sanemi nods. “I did. Thank you for letting us stay, Yoshida-san.”

She waves her hand. “It's a big house full of empty rooms. Sparing one is no trouble.”

Descending the steps into the garden, he moves closer to get a better view of what she is doing. The elderly woman is currently in the middle of a watermelon patch. They are growing to a decent size, practically ripe for picking. At the sight of the large fruits, a pang of fond nostalgia aches inside him.

He kneels next to her. “Are you taking care of these all by yourself?”

Yoshida nods. “It was faster when my husband was still here. But time is all I have now, and I have enough of it to care for my plants.”

Sanemi smiles. “I'm nowhere as experienced in horticulture as your husband, but perhaps there is something I can be of help with?”

Humming in thought, she brushes her fingers over some leaves. “I am checking to make sure there are no bugs on the plants. If it's not too much trouble, can you lend me a hand?”

“Of course, it's not trouble at all.”

Sanemi goes over to the other side to inspect the plants, removing any bugs and pests he spots. There is serenity in the mundane, the repetitive motions quieten his mind and fill him with a small sense of accomplishment when he is done with each plant.

He clears a few rows when Giyuu emerges into view from the engawa.

“Yoshida-san.” He greets the owner of the house. “Shinazugawa.”

Yoshida smiles at him. “Good morning. I hope you rested well.”

Giyuu nods. He looks to Sanemi in quiet curiosity. Yoshida notices it and answers on his behalf.

“Ah. Your friend is helping me with the gardens. He is a very kind man.”

Sanemi's shoulders hunch at the compliment and appreciative smile sent his way, gaze fixated on the earth in abashment.

“It's nothing, really. I just like to keep my hands busy.”

Yoshida merely simpers. “Well, those hands have been of great help. I'll be able to get things done faster today.”

Giyuu makes his way over to Sanemi and kneels beside him, watching him pick out the bugs.

“Do you want to help?”

Giyuu nods, so Sanemi shows him how.

Yoshida leaves them to tend to the plants while she goes to prepare breakfast. The two of them clear the garden by late morning. They go back inside where a hearty meal awaits, and they thank the lady of the house for the food.

“You helped me with my garden, it is only right I repay you. Though I am still able to grow my plants fine, my hands and knees are not as they used to be.”

Sanemi regards her for a moment before looking at Giyuu.

“You in a rush to go somewhere?”

Giyuu shakes his head.

Sanemi turns back to Yoshida with a smile. “If you find our assistance still satisfactory, we can help out for a few more days.”

Yoshida starts waving her hands frantically, unable to accept the offer. “There's no need to tend to a lonely old woman's garden.”

Sanemi leans forward with a benign insistence that Giyuu faintly wonders if he would ever be able to pick up as a social skill. “Consider it our thanks for letting us stay for the night, especially since you refuse to accept our coin as payment. You grow such lovely plants, we want to help ensure they continue to nurture well.”

Yoshida sighs, finally agreeing with a dry chuckle. “Youth these days, always so bullheaded.”

They resume the farm work after breakfast. As instructed by Yoshida, they remove withered leaves and watered the plants, among other things.

“Shinazugawa, look.”

Sanemi peers at where Giyuu is pointing at. Crawling along the stump of a tree is a rhinoceros beetle. Squatting next to Giyuu, he observes the little creature in interest.

“It's pretty large, most likely an adult.”

Giyuu hums in acknowledgement. “Can we feed it a leaf?”

Sanemi snorts. “What is it, a baby? I'm sure it can feed itself just fine.”

When they finish their tasks and return inside in the afternoon, Yoshida brings over a plate of cut watermelon slices.

“It’s from the watermelon patch you helped look after. You boys ought to enjoy the hard work you have put into this.”

The watermelon is overflowing with juice in each bite. The red flesh glistens in the sunlight, refreshing and sweet.

Sanemi studies his slice of fruit with an unreadable look, peculiarly solemn over a piece of watermelon. Giyuu watches him turning the slice over between pinched fingers.

“What is it, Shinazugawa?”

Sanemi hums, taking another bite and chews slowly, as if savoring the taste.

“Genya loved watermelons.”

Giyuu falls silent in understanding.

“We used to race each other on who could eat the fastest. He'd stuff it into his mouth like an idiot and raze it until there is only the rind left. Because of that, I never really took the time to appreciate it.”

He takes another contemplative bite, finishing the piece. “It's good.”

Giyuu picks up another piece and hands it to him. “Then you can eat his share and tell him about it when you see him again.”

Sanemi smirks and takes it from his hand.

Giyuu wakes up with a start. A sharp jolt of pain shoots up his right arm like searing lightning. He hisses out in pain, left hand reaching up to clutch at his arm.

He bites his lip to muffle the noise, not wanting to wake Sanemi up. Outside, it is pouring, heavy raindrops splattering against the window. He hopes it is loud enough to drown out his noises.

The pain varies each time it hits; tonight is unfortunately one of the worst ones so far. Eyes squeezed shut, he takes in deep breaths through clenched teeth and waits for the pain to pass.

Rough fingers brush his fringe to one side. Giyuu snaps his eyes open with a surprised gasp.

Sanemi is looking down at him, bending over his curled up figure in a half-sitting position.

“Hey.” He says, soft with understanding.

Giyuu grits his teeth, pushing through the pain for a moment long enough to speak. “...Sorry.”

Sanemi furrows his brows. “Stop that. It's not your fault that your body is hurting.”

Giyuu says nothing to that. Sanemi seems frustrated, eyes wandering over him in assessment.

“Do you have something for the pain?”

Giyuu forces out a nod. “...Medicine. In my bag.”

Sanemi shifts away to retrieve his bag. Digging his fingers into his throbbing arm, Giyuu weakly rubs the pain away. It helps a little while waiting for Sanemi to find the medicine.

Once he fishes it out, Sanemi returns to his side. Giyuu raises his palm to take it but Sanemi's fingers go past it and press against his mouth, pushing the medicine between the seams of his lips.

Lacking the energy to protest, he quietly swallows the medicine. Sanemi lifts his fingers when he is done, and somehow Giyuu misses the weight against his mouth.

The medicine usually takes effect quickly, so he lies there and anticipates for the pain to ebb away.

Sanemi settles back down next to him, watching his expression closely. Giyuu shuts his eyes, unable to withstand the scrutiny. Caught in a vulnerable moment, he feels flayed open and raw with his unsightly side exposed, all for Sanemi to see and judge.

Suddenly, he feels a hand rest above his, right on top of his arm where he has it in a self-assuaging grip. Wordlessly and without prompting, Sanemi begins to rub soothing circles on Giyuu’s arm. Instinctively he twitches with the urge to jerk his arm back, but the comfort in each push and pull of Sanemi’s fingers overrules his own shame. His hands are gentle when he pries Giyuu’s own hand off so that he can properly massage the area. Along with the medicine, Giyuu relaxes and feels the pain slowly abate. 

They do not exchange a single word the entire time, with only the sounds of their breathing to accompany the quiet hum of the night.

“Thank you.” Giyuu murmurs once the pain has completely disappeared. 

“It’s the least I could do.” Sanemi’s hands still, but they remain at rest on Giyuu’s arm. His warmth seeps through the thin fabric of Giyuu’s yukata, a balm to his tender skin.

“I don’t recall it hurting you like that before.”

Giyuu winces, mildly unappreciative of the reminder. “It’s been a while since the pain has gotten this intense. But it always goes away.”

Sanemi hums. Giyuu keeps his eyes fixed onto the floor, adamant on keeping his threadbare dignity together.

WIth the pain now fading into an aching memory, exhaustion takes over. Giyuu’s eyelids grow heavy as he struggles against his fatigue to remain awake. 

“Go to sleep, you idiot,” Sanemi chides, but not harshly. He tucks inky strands behind Giyuu’s ear and away from dimmed eyes, parting the semblance of a strong front that Giyuu has been trying to put up.

“...Okay.” 

Faintly, he notices Sanemi pull his own futon closer until it is a distance where they would have been within arm’s reach.

“It’s just to make sure I can give you your medicine, in case you’re in pain again.” Sanemi reasons gruffly.

It is a logical reason, though Giyuu wishes not to trouble Sanemi any further. He would rather not have a repeat of this humiliating ordeal again.

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Who’s worried?” Sanemi protests immediately. Even in his tired state, Giyuu sees through him completely.

“It is not that. You should rest too. I do not want to be a bother.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “This again? What did I say about making people feel bad for helping you?”

“...Not to.”

“Precisely. So what do you say?”

“...Thank you.” Giyuu feels strangely chastised.

“You're welcome.” Sanemi twists his lips, regarding Giyuu for a weighted moment.

“You’re not a bother, Tomioka. Not to me.”

Giyuu blinks, suddenly a bit more awake than before. The conviction in Sanemi’s eyes causes his chest to clench and his breath to hitch.

“Tomioka.” Sanemi calls out to him, gentle tone insistent. “It’s okay to be in pain. Just don’t go through it alone and push me away again. After all that we’ve gone through, you’re just going to disrespect me like that?”

Giyuu does not expect the lecture, so he lies there gawking at Sanemi. “N-No.”

Sanemi huffs. “That’s what I thought. Now stop looking like you pissed on your futon and go to sleep.”

He settles into his own futon and turns away from Giyuu in finality.

Giyuu presses his hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat a feverish rhythm beneath his fingertips. Echoes of Sanemi’s fingers burn on his lips, which ache with a sudden rush of awful yearning. Taking deep breaths to ease his deafening heartbeat, he wills himself to sleep with the fading memory of Sanemi brushing his hair.

It has started to pour again. Sanemi looks out into the fields with his hands on his hips, sighing as he laments another day’s of farm work lost to the rain.

Truth be told, the promise of a few days of work had stretched into weeks. Yoshida was still appreciative to have them around to help, so they grew comfortable and have been staying at the farmhouse longer than they expected.

He spots something flickering in the gray sky and squints at it. It is a crow, which he soon recognizes to belong to the Kamado brat once it swoops into view. Thankfully, the letter is for Giyuu, not him. Its loud cries of Giyuu’s name prompts said man to emerge into the open.

In the meantime, Sanemi heads back inside to see if there is anything he can help Yoshida with. When he comes back out, he sees Giyuu sitting on the engawa, staring quietly into the raining landscape. The letter is lightly creased where his fingers are holding it in a tense grip.

“See something interesting?”

For a moment, Giyuu does not answer. Sanemi can only see the back of his figure from where he stands but he opts to remain at a distance for now.

“Shinazugawa. What would you do if someone important to you whom you’ve lost comes back from the dead, and not as a demon?”

Perplexed, Sanemi frowns.

“You mean like a ghost?”

“Perhaps.”

Sanemi hums in consideration. “I’d be shocked, I suppose. Not that I don’t believe ghosts are real, but I’ve never seen one either.”

When Giyuu falls silent again, Sanemi goes forward and sits on the engawa, an arm’s length between each other. Stealing a curious glance, he notes that Giyuu is wearing an unreadable expression. It is more surprising than Sanemi expected. A stoic Giyuu is a rare occurrence in recent times.

Giyuu stares unblinkingly into the distance.

“Tanjirou said he saw Sabito. His ghost perhaps, he’s not quite sure.”

A cold chill runs up Sanemi's spine. “Where?”

“Back on Mount Sagiri, when he was training under Urokodaki-san years ago.” Glancing down at the letter, he numbly summarizes what Tanjirou had seen and experienced. What Sabito had said to him, did for him.

Sanemi studies Giyuu, seeing past the inscrutable veneer that Giyuu has put up in his state of shock. He recalls the reverent hush in his tone when he talked about Sabito.

“Do you want to go there, to see for yourself?”

“Tanjirou said he didn’t sense his presence anymore after coming back from the Final Selection. He possibly moved on.”

“I didn’t ask if he’s still there. I’m asking if you want to go and see it for yourself.”

Something in Giyuu’s eyes flickers. It takes a moment for him to answer.

“Yes.”

Sanemi nods in resolution. “We’ll head out first thing tomorrow. I will tell the old woman.”

Though Yoshida has been pleased with the extra hands and company, perhaps they ought to get back onto the road.

Giyuu blinks and looks at him, the first time they make eye contact since this conversation. “You are coming with?”

Sanemi falters, tilting in an imbalance with the uncertainty that he has misstepped. “Do you not want me to?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that. I didn’t think you would want to.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I did not believe this is something of your concern.”

Sanemi crosses his arms. “But it is of your concern, is it not?”

“Yes.”

He shrugs. “Then it is mine as well.”

Giyuu stares at him, eyes widening in surprise.

“But only if you want me along.” Sanemi adds hastily.

“I do.” Giyuu says without missing a beat. His lack of hesitation makes something in Sanemi’s chest clench.

He pushes himself to his feet. “Then that settles it.”

“Shinazugawa.”

Already walking back inside, Sanemi turns to Giyuu. A ghost of a smile, gentle and grateful, spreads across Giyuu’s lips.

“Thank you.”

Giyuu sends word ahead first with Kanzaburo as they begin their journey to Mount Sagiri, though Sanemi makes an off-handed comment that the old bird will get lost and probably reach the same time they do.

Thankfully, Kanzaburo delivers the message just fine, and they spot Urokodaki standing from a distance when they near his hut.

Urokodaki stands silently with his hands behind his back as they approach.

Giyuu bows at his teacher. “Urokodaki-san.” 

“Giyuu.” Urokodaki greets with a low rumble. He tilts his head to face Sanemi. “You are the former Wind Hashira.”

Sanemi has never met nor spoken to Urokodaki Sakonji, however this is the former Water Hashira and the man who trained Giyuu into the formidable warrior that he was – he knows to show respect when rightfully earned.

“Shinazugawa Sanemi.” He introduces himself with a bow.

Urokodaki turns around and treads back to his hut. “Come. I have been expecting you.”

Though it is currently summer, the temperature is still cool on Mount Sagiri. Warmth blooms from their cheeks to their feet when they step inside the hut.

“Let me get the tea.” Urokodaki gestures for them to get seated as he goes to retrieve the pot.

Giyuu follows him. “Allow me.”

“I am not so shackled by age that I cannot prepare a simple pot of tea.” Urokodaki counters, casting him a side glance. 

Giyuu merely smiles. “How can a student let their teacher do all the work?”

“I don't recall you being so helpful when I prepared your meals in the past. In fact, there were no few complaints from you.”

“The past is the past.”

“Perhaps, but unfortunately I fear you are nowhere near as skilled at making tea as I am. Sit, boy, let your teacher do as he pleases.”

Giyuu sighs, conceding with a wry smile. 

He goes to where Sanemi has seated, who has been observing the exchange with an amused raise of his brow. Urokodaki soon brings over a pot of brewed tea, which Giyuu swiftly takes to pour into Urokodaki’s cup, then Sanemi before pouring for himself.

“What brings you here?”

Raising his cup, Giyuu lets the steam waft over his face. “You mentioned that the trees are looking lovely recently.”

A low hum rumbles out of Urokodaki. “They usually do. But there is more, is there not?”

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “There are few things that go past your notice.”

“You are my student, Giyuu. I witnessed you stumble through the worst of your youth. I can pick apart your tells in my sleep.”

Giyuu puts down his cup, eyes half-lidded in contemplation.

“Tanjirou said he saw Sabito when he was training under you.”

Urokodaki falls silent. But his grip on the cup is steady— he does not seem surprised.

“You knew.” Giyuu states, but not accusingly. 

“I did. Are you wondering why I have not told you?”

Giyuu nods.

“When Tanjirou left for the Final Selection, he asked me to send my regards to Sabito and Makomo. That surprised me, I have never mentioned them to him before. Every day after that, I went up to the boulder that he cut. I went for a month but I did not sense either of their presence.

“I could never bring myself to tell you something that could reopen your wounds, precariously stitched together as they were. Not when I myself could not prove his existence.”

Giyuu considers his words quietly. Sanemi watches him from the side.

“Where is the boulder?”

Urokodaki’s shoulders sink. “Giyuu…”

Giyuu straightens his back. “Even if he is no longer there, I want to know.”

Urokodaki sighs. After much hesitation, he tells Giyuu where the boulder is located.

Giyuu bows in gratitude and gets up on his feet. “I will be back soon.”

Sanemi sits up, staring after Giyuu in concern but Giyuu only offers him a reassuring smile before stepping out of the hut.

“He has always been a stubborn child.”

Sanemi snorts in commiseration. “I've had the fortune of experiencing it for myself countless times the past few months.”

“You have been taking care of Giyuu, then. I appreciate your effort and patience.”

Ears heating from the comment, Sanemi coughs stiltedly into his fist. “I wouldn't call it taking care. We happen to travel together.”

Urokodaki stares at him and Sanemi has the strange sensation of being scrutinized. “Giyuu did not mention you much back then. But after the battle, he has been talking about you often in his letters to me.”

“Was he airing his grievances about how difficult I've been?”

“Quite the opposite.” Urokodaki replies sincerely. “He told me you have been caring and helpful.”

Sanemi tries to protest, but finds that words remain lodged in his throat.

Urokodaki continues without waiting for a response. “I will be forthright. I was surprised when he told me you were coming as well. I was not expecting someone to accompany him here.”

He shrugs in agreement. “He was quite surprised himself when I offered.”

“You do know why he is here, yes?”

Sanemi nods.

“Then I'm sure Giyuu has told you about Sabito. He is very important to that boy, and the guilt over losing Sabito has ladened him for years. If he has agreed to let you come along, it says much more about his trust in you than you comprehend.”

Sanemi says nothing to that, not fully grasping the significance of Giyuu’s acceptance until now.

“What was he like back then? Giyuu, I mean.”

Leaning back with a sigh, Urokodaki reminisces about Giyuu's younger days. “When I first took him in, Giyuu did not speak for a month. He ran away from something terrible, and refused to look me in the eye or utter a word. He looked haunted with a fear that he would lose his life if he were to breathe too loudly. Sabito was the one to thaw the ice he encased himself in. Every day he would bring him food, even when Giyuu barely ate, and talk to him until his throat was parched from exertion.

“And one day, Giyuu finally spoke. Sabito was so thrilled his shouting drowned Giyuu out completely, but from then onwards they were inseparable. They would not go anywhere without each other and Giyuu started to express himself more, though he had always been taciturn. They even discussed going on missions together, when they eventually join the Corps.

“But when they entered the Final Selection, only one came back out. Giyuu stopped talking again. He refused to respond to anything and anyone. I genuinely feared he was going to starve himself to death. One day when I came back from gathering more food, I found him cutting his haori and Sabito’s haori to stitch them together. He picked up his sword, left and never came back. The only thing he said to me when he walked out was ‘I'm sorry’.”

Sanemi lets out a tense breath. His fists clench and unclench with the thought of a younger Giyuu, sunken in grief and despair. 

A weary sigh slips out of Urokodaki as well. “I worried about the person that Giyuu was growing up to be. He hardly responded to my letters, I mainly received updates on him through the master. So consider me more than surprised when he wrote to me one day, reporting on a boy and his demon sister that he had spared and that he had sent them my way, imploring for my mercy and empathy to take them in. For a while, I thought he had gone mad.”

Sanemi shakes his head with a dry smirk. “Tomioka has always been a strange one. Sometimes I don't understand what's going on in his head.”

“Whatever Giyuu chooses to do, it derives from that pure heart of his. That boy is very soft, contrary to what many may think.”

Sanemi’s face falls in retrospective regret. “Yeah. I was one of them.”

“Clearly you have changed your mind, otherwise you would not be here.”

Sanemi supposes he is right.

Urokodaki spares a glance at the window. “I imagine it will take a while until he returns. I will prepare dinner. I assume you will be joining?”

Sanemi offers to help Urokodaki with the preparation, where he is met with a firm refusal. He is beginning to see where Giyuu has gotten his stubbornness from.

Dinner is a simple affair, with an occasional conversation on the brighter days of Giyuu’s past. Sanemi already bears a considerable amount of respect for Giyuu as a fellow Hashira, but hearing Urokodaki recount his gruelling training makes him reel a little ( “—did you just say you kicked a thirteen-year-old boy off a waterfall—” )

After they clear up their dinner, Urokodaki heads to his room to rest for the night. He offers the other room—Giyuu’s old room—to Sanemi. 

Instead of going inside, Sanemi settles down next to the fire, keeping himself warm as he waits for Giyuu. His eyelids droop in growing exhaustion but he fights against it, tugging at his sleeves to preserve heat.

“Waiting for him out here will not get him to come back faster.”

Sanemi jolts awake. He swirls to see Urokodaki observing him quietly.

“I know. I'm just making sure the fire stays lit and he doesn't trip over his own feet in the dark.”

An excuse as flimsy as they come, but Sanemi is too tired to think of a smarter answer.

There is no immediate response from Urokodaki, and the sensation of being scrutinized crawls up Sanemi again. Idly, he wonders if this is where Giyuu learnt to be so nonchalant if he had to bear the brunt of such a gaze all the time.

“Why have you decided to follow Giyuu here?”

Sanemi frowns. “Do I need a reason to?”

There is a cryptic pause before he answers. “I suppose not. Though that is a reason in itself.”

Sanemi’s frown deepens. He is also starting to understand where Giyuu has gotten his air of enigmatic stoicism from.

But then Urokodaki shakes his head. “Giyuu's heart is soft. I cannot stop worrying for him. My biggest hope for him is that he will find the strength to live on and not just survive, and that heart of his will be cherished both by himself and the people around him.”

There is an unspoken request and warning both in his words, interwoven with a weight so heavy that Sanemi is almost deterred from bearing it. Almost. 

“Tomioka is strong. I can tell he will live a good life, and I told him just that.”

Sanemi mulls over his next words, running his thoughts over carefully before expressing them. “I'm not sure why he's decided to put so much trust in me, but I'm not going to take it for granted. Not while I still live.”

Urokodaki stares at him for a long tense moment, until the edges of Sanemi’s mind begin to fray with unease.

“There is more wood for the fire in the cabinet on the right.” Is all Urokodaki says before he slips back inside his room, sliding the door shut.

Letting out a breath he has been holding, Sanemi turns to face the door again.

He does not know how long time has passed, opting to listen to the sounds of flames licking the air, to the rustle of fabric whenever he moves. He thinks of the way Giyuu smiled at him before he left.

Eventually, the sky begins to light up with the crawling approach of daybreak. Sanemi perks up when he finally catches the sound of approaching footsteps, of leaves crunching underneath solid weight. Without thinking, he gets onto his feet and reaches the door in two strides.

Opening the door wide open in haste, he comes face to face with Giyuu who has his hand half-raised. Giyuu startles at the sight of him.

“Shinazugawa…?”

Sanemi grabs his arm and hisses at the stiff sting of cold fabric in his grip.

“If you're going to stay up there all night, you should have brought something to keep you warm, dumbass.”

Pulling Giyuu inside, he quickly shuts the door behind them. Ushering him to the fire in his grumpy exhaustion, he sits next to Giyuu who is putting his hand near the heat source.

Sanemi stares at him expectedly as he warms himself up. Giyuu returns his gaze with a questioning glance.

“Well?” Sanemi prompts. 

Giyuu lowers his hand, gaze faltering.

When Giyuu reaches the boulder, his jaw slackens at the sheer size of it. Even Sabito’s boulder was nowhere near as big. How Tanjirou managed to cut through it, he cannot even begin to fathom.

Circling around the boulder, Giyuu purposefully takes in every detail— every bump, every dip, every edge. Then, settling into a kneeled position and sitting on his heels, he faces the boulder and begins to meditate.

Night descends and the temperature plummets with the vanished sun. Idly, he wishes he had brought something to keep him warm to make this more comfortable. But it is not the worst of conditions he has endured before, so he braves through it.

Besides his own breathing, he only picks out the sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional nightlife.

Meditating does not seem to invite the potential presence of Sabito. Exhaling through his nose, he tries another way—he begins to talk.

He talks as if Sabito is there. Talks like they are catching up after years of lost contact.

“I didn't know you had trained Tanjirou for a few months. Thank you for looking out for him.”

He eyes the split boulder in amazement, still impressed by Tanjirou's feat. When he had sent the siblings to his teacher, he had not foreseen that he would far surpass everyone’s expectations like that.

“I'm sure your training helped him during his Final Selection as well. He killed the demon, did you know?”

His heart twinges with a sorrowful ache at the memory of that fateful night. When Tanjirou revealed to him that he had slain the demon that took Sabito’s life, he had almost wept in front of the boy.

“I hope wherever you are, Sabito, you are happy.” 

Giyuu keeps talking through the night. It surprises him, but once the words leave his mouth they do not stop flowing out. As if all the bottled emotions and thoughts he has ever harbored over Sabito is finally spilling out.

But even once he has spoken till his voice cracks and his throat dries, there is no sight nor sound of Sabito.

The tranquil surface of his mind ripples and simmers. Frustration and disappointment surge through him. Why had Sabito appeared before Tanjirou, a complete stranger, and yet refuses to manifest before him? Sabito is never one to be spiteful, why would he torment him with his absence?

Grief and vexation mount and distort until Giyuu is all but shouting into the misty air. He yells until he runs out of steam and his shoulders collapse with exhaustion.

And still no response.

As much as he dreaded this outcome, it is the most likely one — after Tanjirou defeated that demon he figured Sabito would have moved on. He does not expect to see Sabito, be it in the form of a spirit, ghost or any other otherworldly being.

And yet. He had hoped. 

Only when the first signs of dawn are beginning to show does he extinguish any remaining flickers of hope. Pushing himself to his feet, he gives the boulder and his surroundings one last look before leaving.

But just as he is about to step out of the clearing, he catches a faint whiff of fresh peaches and feels a peculiar warmth blooming across his back and around his arm and chest— as if being embraced from behind.

Choking out a startled gasp, Giyuu freezes on the spot. Staring blankly in front of him, he commits the feeling to memory. Stiffly, he raises his arm to his chest where he feels the warmth.

The sensation intensifies, as if whoever—whatever that is embracing him is tightening their hold. Giyuu’s breath hitches, throat constricting with emotion.

Soon, the sensation around him eases, and the night chill envelops him in its place. Giyuu’s chest swells, and he can breathe again.

He descends the mountain, body moving him along by instinct while his head is still reeling from what just transpired.

Urokodaki’s hut emerges into view and he makes his way to the door as quietly as he can. Before he can open the door, however, it slides open to reveal a wide-eyed Sanemi.

“Shinazugawa…?” He had not expected Sanemi to be awake at this time. Giyuu wonders why he is standing right at the door.

Sanemi reaches to grab his arm and hisses. “If you're going to stay up there all night, you should have brought something to keep you warm, dumbass.”

Giyuu knows this mountain like the back of his hand. Staying out in the cold through the night is not a new experience back in his days of training. He does not say that however—Sanemi’s hand is warm. Giyuu cannot help but lean into it to soak in the warmth, letting Sanemi pull him along.

Being ushered by Sanemi in his grumpy exhaustion to the fire, Giyuu raises his hand to chase away the chill. Feeling watchful eyes on him, he looks up to see Sanemi staring at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Giyuu recounts what happened, almost in numb disbelief as if he is not quite sure if what he felt was real.

When he finishes his story, there is a long pause. Then, a warm hand pressed against his cheek. Giyuu stills, not comprehending what Sanemi is doing. It is only when a thumb brushes along his cheekbone—a smear of cold moisture—that he realizes he is crying.

Sanemi looks at him with concern in his eyes. 

“What's wrong?”

The instant Giyuu is aware of the tears, they spill out in an endless stream. Alarm flashes across Sanemi's eyes, his other hand joining to cup his face in a gentle cradle, wiping the tears away. 

“I don't know. I'm not sad, I think.” Giyuu rasps. He cannot stop his tears, and finds himself gasping for breath.

Sanemi leans closer until their breaths mingle, murmuring words of comfort that Giyuu does not register. Still, the low tones of his voice and the repetitive strokes of fingers against his cheeks are enough to anchor him.

Eventually, the tears stop and dry. Sanemi does not let go, and Giyuu does not pull away either.

“I was thinking,” Giyuu says slowly, tiredly, “that hopefully Sabito would be proud of the person I am today.”

Sanemi's lips quirk up in a smirk. “He damned well better be.”

A weak chuckle escapes Giyuu. Sanemi keeps his hands on his face, thumb idly brushing tear-stained skin. He is close, watching him with eyes softer than they have ever been. A gentle lilac. Giyuu doesn't think Sanemi has looked at him like this before.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Giyuu eventually nods, a wisp of a smile on his lips.

The next day, Giyuu helps Urokodaki to prepare ingredients for dinner. Sanemi has gone out upon Urokodaki’s request to gather more firewood.

“You know,” Urokodaki starts, as he is chopping up the vegetables, “when you wrote to me that you are visiting, I was not expecting you to bring over a boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Of all my students, you are the last one I'd expect to introduce their lifelong companion to me.”

Giyuu drops the bowl he is holding with a loud clatter. Urokodaki continues chopping the vegetables as if oblivious to his startled reaction.

It takes a few seconds for Giyuu to collect his thoughts. “I don't understand.”

“I have been observing the two of you. There is fondness in the way he looks at you, as is the other way around.”

Giyuu says nothing, because he does not know what to say. He had not realized there is fondness between them. Perhaps travelling together has positively impacted their growing friendship.

“He cares about you.”

“I told him I want to be friends.”

Urokodaki hums. Giyuu is unable to discern the meaning behind that.

“And how did he respond?”

“He was initially quite opposed to the idea of us becoming closer. But he has helped me on many occasions, welcomed me into his space, and eventually invited me to accompany him in his travels. He is more compassionate than he claims to be.”

“Sounds remarkably familiar. He reminds me of someone.” Urokodaki comments dryly, which Giyuu pointedly ignores.

“Do you think I will be able to become friends with him?”

For a while, Urokodaki says nothing. The knife in his hands stills. A contemplative silence cocoons the space around them.

“I think—you have far exceeded your goal and are on the path to form a bond that neither of you would have foreseen.”

Giyuu frowns, baffled.

Footsteps shuffle outside the door, interrupting their conversation. Sanemi walks in with chopped firewood piled up in the basket on his back.

“Urokodaki-san. I'm done with the firewood. Where do I put them?”

Urokodaki points at the cabinet. “Over there will suffice, thank you.”

As Sanemi strides over to the cabinet, Giyuu’s eyes trail after him. His teacher's words reverberate in his head as he ponders the meaning behind them.

He hears Urokodaki clearing his throat next to him. Whipping his head back to his task in front of him, Giyuu resolutely ignores the smug air emanating off the older man.

It has been a while since Giyuu shared a meal with his teacher, he thinks as they settle in a circle and dig in. Urokodaki has made nabe tonight, the broth is flavorful and warms him from the inside.

Urokodaki asks them about their adventures so far, so Giyuu recounts their travel stories. Sanemi is content to listen, chipping at certain moments. At particular cheeky remarks Giyuu chuckles in amusement, which only widens the grin across Sanemi's cheeks. Urokodaki laughs along on occasion, but Giyuu can tell he is thoroughly enjoying himself.

As the night goes on, Giyuu drinks in the carefree sight of his teacher and his travelling companion. It is a wonderful image, Giyuu daresay he is the most content he has been in a long time.

“Take good care of each other.” Urokodaki tells them both, when they leave the mountain on a late morning.

“Please take care of yourself as well.” Giyuu says with a bow.

“You needn't worry about that. I always am.”

When they are a distance away, trekking down the mountain, Sanemi finally tells Giyuu, “You take a lot after him.” 

Giyuu raises a brow. “How so?”

“Mysterious. Uses one word to convey a hundred. Unnerving stare.”

Giyuu hums. “Do you think a mask would suit me?”

Sanemi thinks that Giyuu hiding his face would be a mistake of the highest calibre.

Giyuu blinks and turns to him in surprise.

With dawning horror, Sanemi realizes that he said that out loud.

“Just so I don't have to spend more time figuring you out.” He babbles frantically, speeding up his pace to hide the blooming flush in his cheeks.

A few days later, they come across a stall selling rakugan. The intricately molded sweets are put on display, each a delicate color of fine crafting. Giyuu walks by in casual observation but Sanemi pauses in his steps. He turns and approaches the stall and so Giyuu follows him.

He observes Sanemi who sweeps his gaze across the rakugan and picks a box large enough to hold one of every mold design. 

“Do you like rakugan?” He asks after Sanemi makes his purchase.

“I like it, but it’s not for me.”

Giyuu blinks. Sanemi presses his lips into a petulant line as if struggling to push the next words out.

“It’s for the brats. I’m sending this to shut Kamado up so he will stop making his poor crow travel so far to deliver letters every time. He is going to be so intimidated by such an expensive item he won’t dare to write to me ag—why are you laughing?”

Giyuu is outright guffawing, not even having the decency to temper it into a polite chuckle. Sanemi stands there and watches him, wanting to yell at him but finds that he is unable to rile up the indignation to do so.

Giyuu’s face lights up in pure delight, eyes bright like the cerulean ocean in the midday sun. The cool afternoon wind teases his hair, soft midnight locks fluttering in the breeze. Sanemi has never seen him so carefree before. He cannot look away.

“Shinazugawa.” Giyuu’s laughter fades away eventually, enough for him to finally speak. A wisp of a smile still tugs at the corner of his lips.

“What.” Sanemi says, a weak exhale.

Giyuu leans closer to him, mirth gleaming in his eyes. “You are a kinder person than you let on.”

Sanemi flinches, his glare full of false heat. The heat in his cheeks from Giyuu stepping into his space is nothing but genuine, however.

“Shut up.”

Their path leads them to a small entertainment district a few days later. One fine evening, they get swept up in the razzle and dazzle and decide to indulge in the best alcohol the place had to offer.

It turns out that Giyuu is a pathetic lightweight. Sanemi cackles at the sorry sight of him slumped over the table after his third cup.

“Shinazugawa.” He mumbles drunkenly.

“What.” Sanemi takes another sip of his sake.

“Did you truly hate the ohagi I made you?”

The cup stills between his lips. “...What?”

“You kept saying they were awful, and that you ate them because it's rude to refuse food. So do you actually hate them?”

Sanemi turns away, and grumbles an answer that Giyuu cannot catch in his alcohol-muddled daze.

He leans closer. “Can you say that again?”

“I said I don't hate it. No one's really made food just for me before. Not since my own mother. Don't get me wrong, it tasted awful at first. But you kept coming back, and—”

Sanemi finally turns back to face Giyuu, and whatever he plans to say dies in his throat. Giyuu has leaned so close their noses almost brush against each other.

Memories of the daybreak at Mount Sagiri come crashing back. Instead of a misty sheen of tears, Giyuu’s eyes are glazed over by the spell of alcohol.

Under the dim amber lights, his azure irises have enthralled Sanemi completely, a siren’s call.

“And what, Shinazugawa?”

Dusky eyes half-lidded, Giyuu murmurs out all airy and hushed, like an intimate secret. Sanemi’s throat constricts—it is suddenly hard to breathe.

Bursts of laughter erupt from the booth behind them, and it breaks Sanemi out of his stupor.

He throws himself back until he hits the back of his seat with a loud thud. The dull pain drives out the haze clogging his head.

“And you clearly had too much to drink.” He plucks Giyuu’s cup out of his reach.

“‘M not drunk.” Giyuu protests weakly. His stubborn pout is back and Sanemi has the strange urge to press his fingers against it. When he handfed the medicine to Giyuu, he was not paying attention to how his lips felt — there were other pressing matters at hand. But now that he is left to his thoughts, he tries his best to recall the sensation. The soft give of his bottom lip, the warm puff of air that hit the pads of his fingers when he exhaled.

Giyuu makes another vague noise of protest. “...I’m n’t drunk.”

It snaps Sanemi out of his reverie. He shakes his head, flinging away remaining stray thoughts.

“Yeah, and I'm Uzui's fourth wife. Come on, let's head back. Clear our heads a bit.”

Sanemi drags Giyuu to his feet, pays for their meals, and pulls him out into the streets. The fresh night air is a cooling balm against his burning skin. Sanemi inhales deeply in hopes it will cool his senses as well.

Next to him, Giyuu is swaying on his feet. Not enough for Sanemi to fear he will topple over, but he grips his elbow for good measure.

He hauls Giyuu forward. “Come on, don't get lost or I'll leave you to sleep on the streets tonight.” 

The walk back is quiet. Their feet shuffle softly against the ground and they do not talk to each other.

That is, until Giyuu speaks up. “Shinazugawa.”

“You're really talkative when you're drunk, huh?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me the chance to make friends with you.”

Sanemi’s heart leaps.

“Is that we are — friends?” He dares not look back to see what expression Giyuu is currently wearing. 

Giyuu sways a little in his step, and Sanemi tightens his grip on Giyuu’s arm.

“We travel together, eat together, sleep together—” Sanemi grimaces at the phrasing, “—and now we drink together. I would like to think so.”

Giyuu stops, tugging Sanemi to a halt. Sanemi now turns around and finds Giyuu already looking up at Sanemi. At this distance, the minute difference in their height is amplified tenfold. The angle Giyuu is tilting his head grants the moon privilege to cast its silver glow on his face. If Sanemi thought his eyes were captivating in the restaurant, under the ethereal kiss of moonlight they look sublime.

A treasure unearthed, Sanemi is hopelessly enchanted.

“Are we friends, Shinazugawa?” Giyuu whispers.

Sanemi says nothing. He continues to stare at Giyuu, until Giyuu takes a quiet breath through his mouth and his eyes flicker down to it. Sanemi traces the soft but defined bow of his lips with a bewitched gaze. A sheepish admission, but he has always been drawn to them, especially when they curve to form a smile. His urge to press against them comes back with a vengeance but instead of his fingers, this time it is his own mouth.

Sanemi’s lips part unconsciously, aching for a touch he is unfamiliar with yet yearns intensely so. His fingers twitch, itching to run through Giyuu’s hair and taking the time to feel each strand between his fingers which he had not the mind to do so previously.

He does none of those.

“I don't know.” He finally murmurs, a delayed answer to Giyuu’s question. Turning on his heels, he pulls Giyuu along without another word. They do not speak the rest of the way, both trapped within the confines of their own thoughts.

Dragging Giyuu back to their room, Sanemi quickly sets out the futons for the night. He does not change Giyuu out into his sleepwear, it feels like a boundary he should not cross. Still, he lays him down on the futon, kneeling at his side as he tries to get Giyuu settled in. 

Giyuu scrunches his face and tosses to find a comfortable position. As Sanemi pulls the covers up to his chest, he drinks in his slumbering face. Giyuu looks peaceful, a quiet reprieve from reality.

Before his mind catches up to his body, Sanemi reaches to brush Giyuu’s fringe aside to bare his face from the inky veil. Perhaps it is due for another snipping soon, Sanemi notices it has been getting into his eyes lately. He should offer to cut his hair again, hopefully Giyuu will be amenable to the suggestion. 

The yearning in his chest aches so intensely it almost hurts. Stamping it down to a tolerable pang, he shoves himself into his futon with his back facing Giyuu. Out of sight, out of mind, he sorely hopes.

A futile lie to placate the pangs in his heart.

Giyuu wakes up the next day with a splitting headache and a desert-dry mouth. With much effort, he peels open one eye and realizes that the room is empty.

He hardly recalls what happened after they left the restaurant. Mainly that Sanemi had dragged him all the way back to their inn. And probably set out the futon for him as well. His recollection is spotty at best, save for a few pockets of lucidity. He is still in yesterday's clothes, so Sanemi did not change him out. Not that he expects to. He only hopes he hasn't caused too much trouble for Sanemi.

As he weighs between getting up and staying in his futon to shrivel, the door opens and in walks Sanemi.

“Finally up, you lightweight?”

Giyuu feels like his mouth is stuffed with cotton, so he only groans in response.

He hears Sanemi snicker. “Yeah, I thought so. Get up, lazy ass. You should get something in your stomach to help with the hangover.”

Something clinks onto the floor and a light aroma wafts to his nose. Giyuu struggles to open his eyes and see some rice with pickled vegetables and miso soup.

“You got this for me…?”

Sanemi sits next to him. “I didn't make them, if that's what you're asking. I went down for breakfast and asked the innkeeper if there is any food. This is what he has.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, so eat up. Or I'll leave without you.” He nudges the tray closer.

Giyuu feels much better when he is finished, warm with something other than the food in his belly.

Kanzaburo crashes into Giyuu's arms with a feeble squawk when they are out at the market in the next town.

“You really have to retire your old bird, Tomioka. It's barely hanging onto death’s door with its ancient claws.”

Giyuu huffs as he smoothens out his crow's ruffled feathers with a gentle hand. “Kanzaburo just needs some time to catch his breath. He is fine.” 

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “Who's it from?” He asks as Giyuu plucks the letter between Kanzaburo's beak.

Giyuu takes a few moments to read through the content.

“Tengen. He is inviting us to a party next month. Apparently Tanjirou and his friends are invited too, so we will probably see them there.”

Sanemi snaps his head up. But it is not the mention of the Kamado kid that catches his attention.

“‘Tengen’? Since when did you two grow so close?”

Giyuu blinks. “He asked me to call him that. I had been calling him ‘Uzui’ and his wives by their names, so he thought it makes more sense to use his name too.”

Bitter annoyance rises up Sanemi’s throat, and he wishes he isn’t reacting so strongly at something so inanely trivial. Giyuu even calls the stupid hard-headed imp by his name, no need to make mountains out of molehills over this.

“Is that so? I don’t see you extending that logic to the others, or me.”

“I—”

“The Kamado brats do not count.” Sanemi shoots him down immediately.

Giyuu closes his mouth, considering him for a moment. Sanemi refuses to squirm under his scrutiny.

“Sanemi.”

Sanemi stiffens, and hates, hates how his entire body warms at the sound of his name rolling off Giyuu’s tongue.

“I didn’t say you could just call me like that.”

“Oh.” Giyuu deflates.

Sanemi sighs. “But you can use it, if you want to.”

At that, Giyuu perks up. “Sanemi.”

“Stop that. I’m not a dog.”

“Sorry. I am just trying to get used to saying your name.”

Sanemi grunts. Well, two could play at this game. “...Giyuu.”

Giyuu startles, and it is a strangely pleasing sight to see his cheeks slowly turn a pretty shade of pink. Sanemi decides he quite likes this change. 

Thinking back to that day months ago, where he stood outside Giyuu’s door, offer tentatively extended. Never would he have foreseen the path they have forged together, paved by stilted words, sincere sweets, watermelon slices, teary face in calloused hands.

Glancing over at Giyuu who is staring ahead with an excited glint in his eyes, bright as the sky above them, Sanemi knows with certainty that he will follow whatever road that lies ahead, as long as he has Giyuu at his side.

Chapter Text

In their journey to return to where they started, Giyuu and Sanemi often find themselves retracing their steps and passing through familiar towns and trails. Pointing out notable landmarks and food spots, they reminisce about the moments spent there.

It is a wonder how far they have come — from a tentative kinship blooms a kindred bond, seemingly unmatching puzzle pieces smoothened out in some edges and extended out in others so as to carve a space for each other.

When they are in Ginza en-route, Sanemi abruptly groans at the sight of a familiar Western clothes store.

“I had to drag you out of that damn place. You almost bought the entire shop out.”

Giyuu nods, unrepentant. “I liked the designs, and the fabrics were of exceptional quality.”

Sanemi pins him with an incredulous glare. “Kamado lives on a fucking mountain. Why does he need five neckties?”

“For when he leaves the mountain. There are more people wearing suits in Tokyo now. He may need it in future.” Giyuu gestures at passers-by, walking representations of the shifting times in modern Japan.

Sanemi crosses his arms. “Fine. Then explain the seven pairs of shoes you bought for the girl.”

“There are seven days in a week.”

Burning his face in one hand, Sanemi sighs in exasperation. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

Giyuu tilts his head, trying to puzzle him out. Then, his face clears with revelation.

“Are you hoping that I buy clothes for you as well?”

Sanemi chokes on his own bewilderment.

“No. That is not what I mean. Absolutely not.”

Giyuu blinks. Then he smiles, all soft and sincere. “If you want me to buy you things, then you should just say so.”

“You—I—” Sanemi grabs a fistful of his hair. “You are unbelievable.”

“Sanemi.”

Giyuu calls out to him, almost indulgently. Sanemi freezes, eyes widening and heart skipping. It still throws him off balance to be called by his name, to hear it uttered in that calm baritone.

Like the rippling surface of a mountain lake on the cusp of spring, Sanemi’s name on Giyuu’s tongue feels gentle, serene, perhaps even beautiful.

Fond amusement glints in Giyuu’s eyes, like glimmers in carved sapphire.

“If you truly want something, then you only need to ask.”

Sanemi’s throat dries, suddenly parched with an unspeakable longing.

I want you.

“I want you to be less stupid and careless with your money.”

—Is what he says instead.

Giyuu hums, blissfully unaware of the yearning that burns within Sanemi. “I always ensure I have sufficient funds for my meals and lodging. That's all that matters for my own living. I am content to spend the rest of it on other people.”

Sanemi clicks his tongue. “Leave some extra for yourself, dumbass. I'm not lending you money if you end up not having enough to buy something you like.”

Later that day however, Sanemi buys dango for Giyuu when he notices him staring at the stall a second longer than mere casual interest. He buys it despite his earlier chastising, now a defanged threat, just to make sure that Giyuu has enough funds for himself.

Sanemi wonders since when has his resolve weakened so abhorrently. 

The Wind Hashira estate is as they remembered. But it has been vacated for a few months regardless — a thin layer of dust coats across furniture and floors, doors creak from disuse when slid open.

“Half a year passed just like that, huh.”

Giyuu hums in assent. “We haven’t travelled to all corners of Japan, but we have seen a lot so far.”

“As much as I liked hopping around the country, I can’t deny there’s some sort of comfort having the same place to go back to rest every night.”

Giyuu adjusts the heavy pack on his back, having picked out a couple of gifts on the way back while tuning out Sanemi’s fussing. First things first he will need to put them down, so he starts walking in the direction of the room he had been staying in. But then Sanemi calls out to him.

“Giyuu, wait.”

Halting in his tracks, Giyuu turns back to him with a quizzical look.

Contemplation twists at the corner of Sanemi’s lips. After a beat of silence, he tilts his head in the opposite direction that Giyuu is going. “I have another room for you, but only if you want it.”

Giyuu does not expect the offer, but he follows Sanemi wordlessly and without question. He is led down the hallway until they reach the zen garden. Sanemi takes them further in until they stop in front of a room facing the garden; Giyuu notes that the engawa right outside the room is the spot for their usual late night conversations.

Sanemi turns back to him, flighty gaze flickering between him and the garden.

“You can take this one. Since you come to the garden so often, you don't need to walk so far to get here.”

With bated breath, Giyuu slides the door open. His hand glides along the door frame, featherlight in its awe. This one is more spacious than the one he was staying at. But the expanded dimensions are a mere idle observation.

The logical side of him reasons that Sanemi has offered his estate to him previously. An offer of a new room should not feel like anything beyond a good-natured extension of his hospitality.

And yet, Giyuu’s heart flutters with an ardent rhythm.

Because he can see Sanemi’s room from here. A space in the most sacred corners of Sanemi’s estate, carved out so willingly and sincerely for Giyuu. A simple offer with an archive’s worth of unspoken trust.

He turns to Sanemi. “This is mine?”

Sanemi breaks into a smile. “Yeah. For as long as you want it.”

Giyuu’s fingers dig into the door frame, desperate to leave a mark on its wooden surface, to immortalize his place in Sanemi’s home.

“Okay.”

It takes them more than a few days to clean the estate. From the dusting to the wiping and to the washing, it is an enormous place for two people with less than four hands and twenty fingers between them altogether to get the job done. But they manage, as they always do.

No longer constantly on the move, they rediscover their rhythm of staying in one place again. However, the hardest part to accustom themselves to again is sleeping in their own separate rooms. With so many empty rooms in the estate, it makes little sense to squeeze in a room together.

So despite feeling the empty ache of loneliness when they do not wake up to the sight of a familiar face, neither bears the courage to bring it up. 

Without attendants, they also prepare their own meals. They get their ingredients from the nearest market. Giyuu helps but Sanemi prefers taking the lead with the cooking. Be it deboning fish, boiling vegetables, or shaping rice into onigiri triangles, Sanemi insists on doing the more tedious parts. 

Initially Giyuu feared he was seen as a burden, unable to contribute much with only one hand. But he sees the quiet content in lilac eyes and realizes that Sanemi finds genuine enjoyment in cooking. So sometimes he ends up watching Sanemi prepare their food. 

By now it is almost ritualistic to observe Sanemi in this environment. Among the sounds of sizzling meat, bubbling water and clanking kitchenware, Sanemi is by contrast noticeably silent. 

When his hands are unoccupied with a task, Giyuu's eyes linger on the concentrating set in Sanemi’s jaw, in the repetitive motions of his hand as he chops the ingredients.

More often than not, Giyuu is grateful he is given simple tasks so that he has spare time to admire Sanemi in his element.

Everything in the kitchen, save for the food, belongs to Sanemi. Unsurprising, given that this is his estate. The furniture is also presumably older than his tenure as the Wind Hashira, passed down from previous owners of the place.

All this was a mere passing observation when he was a guest. Now he is a guest no longer, but a fellow inhabitant. A peculiar desire sparks within Giyuu, the very same that kindled the moment Sanemi offered the room to him.

Sanemi walks in on Giyuu one day gazing unblinkingly at the tableware. Rows of bowls, plates, cups and chopsticks lay out in front of him. 

“You're going to stare a hole into those bowls at this rate.”

“Sanemi,” Giyuu says without looking up, “we should get something for the estate.”

Sanemi narrows his eyes, puzzled. “Like what?”

“We could get new kitchenware. Maybe even some bonsai too for the living room.”

Sanemi sweeps an inspecting glance across the kitchen. The equipment they have is perfectly functional and of decent quality.

“Everything’s working fine and we have enough. We don't need more things to take care of either.”

At that, Giyuu’s face falls. He drops his gaze, disappointment dulling his eyes.

Sanemi stiffens, not comprehending the reason for his upset. He senses the distance between them yawning open from his unwitting response, the meaning behind Giyuu’s dejection slipping from his grasp.

He clings onto the fleeing scraps of Giyuu’s attention with a hasty attempt to course correct: “Fine. If you really want to get something, then we'll go.”

Like a sun emerging from parting clouds, Giyuu brightens in hopeful enthusiasm. “Alright. Can we go now?”

That is how Sanemi finds himself in the village with Giyuu, strolling along the streets as he watches Giyuu greet various merchants, who are now well-acquainted with the soft-spoken young man.

Making a beeline to the tableware shop, Giyuu picks up several bowls, plates, cups and chopsticks. He spots the shop opposite of it selling zabuton and makes a swift purchase there as well.

Sanemi means to offer well-meaning protests but the guardedness that enshrouds Giyuu’s features whenever anything close to a complaint comes out of his mouth eventually stops him from voicing his concerns altogether.

The plant shop is next on the list. Giyuu studies each potted plant in earnest consideration, even tilting his body to look at it from different angles.

“I didn't know you like plants.” Sanemi observes Giyuu’s gaze oscillate between two bonsai trees that he has narrowed down to.

Giyuu hums idly, the majority of his concentration focused on the plants.

“I don't have a specific fondness nor am I an expert, but they are pleasant to look at.”

Sanemi blinks. He then does a double take.

“Then why are you even getting it?”

Finally, Giyuu turns to give Sanemi his full attention. It takes him a while to piece a response together, but Sanemi waits with a patience he has cultivated in the process of understanding Giyuu as a person.

“I wanted to get something for the estate. Something to represent a new beginning, that we both share. Is the estate not a place we can call our home now?”

Sanemi gawks at him, jaw slacked in astonishment. Giyuu’s low spirits, his insistence to choose something for the estate — it is all starting to make sense now.

Stepping closer until they brush shoulders, he points at the bonsai on the right. “I like this one better.”

Giyuu glances at it and smiles, radiant as the fresh snow in midday. 

“I like this one too.”

They leave the village with full hands and fuller hearts. The things they picked that day are scattered across the estate—in the kitchen, in the living room, the dining room. They add a touch of something uniquely theirs to the place. Not as the Wind and Water Hashira, not even as the former Wind and Water Hashira, just simply Sanemi and Giyuu.

Today starts like any other day. Giyuu rises at the same time as he usually does. The weather is fair and he feels sufficiently rested.

When he slides his door open, however, he sees Sanemi already up and dressed. He is walking off in quick strides when Giyuu calls out to him.

“Good morning, Sanemi.”

Sanemi freezes in his tracks, eyes widening in alarm. With the grace of a newborn fawn, he tilts towards him at a stiff angle.

“Giyuu.” He greets, stilted. “Morning.”

“Are you heading somewhere?”

Sanem’s gaze darts away. “...Yeah. I’m just heading out for a short while.”

Just then, Giyuu notices the bag that Sanemi is carrying — the one they usually use when shopping for ingredients.

“Are you going to the market now? I will come with.”

“No.” Sanemi blurts out immediately, almost frantically. Giyuu falters.

Wincing slightly, Sanemi rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not getting much for tonight. You don’t need to follow.”

Giyuu’s brows draw into a slightly puzzled frown, off-footed with his unusual rejection.

“...Okay.”

Sanemi hurries off with a rushed farewell, leaving Giyuu to linger at his own door with a troubled aftertaste.

Giyuu goes about his day, determined to shake off the strange sense of being rejected. Mustering a wave of self-consolation, he reasons to himself that Sanemi is in a hurry because he wants to get his hands on some premium ingredients before they get sold out. 

A while later he hears the gates open, announcing Sanemi’s return. He rushes over to welcome him back, but Sanemi tenses at the sight of him.

“Welcome back.” Giyuu says, cautiously hopeful.

“Yeah.” Sanemi says curtly and makes a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help?” Giyuu offers, grappling for any opportunity to close the confounding gap between them.

“No need.” Sanemi pauses. Then, he throws Giyuu a look that does not even meet his eyes. “Don't come in until I tell you to.”

Giyuu flinches. The escaping shreds of Sanemi’s attention slip between his fingers as he watches Sanemi leave.

Making a dispirited retreat, Giyuu withdraws to the living room to nurse the distress in his chest. He squats down in front of the bonsai tree, counting every single leaf as he thinks back on all their recent conversations, wondering if there was something he did to upset Sanemi. But his mind draws a blank.

It is evening by the time Sanemi seeks him out. Giyuu is back in his room, re-reading some of his old letters to Urokodaki.

“Giyuu, dinner’s ready.”

Giyuu looks up at Sanemi, quietly studying him to discern what he is feeling. Sanemi’s eyes are unexpectedly warm, lips tugging into a slight smile. Chest tight with wary apprehension, Giyuu gets up and follows him. Walking right behind Sanemi, he is led to the dining room.

The sight that greets him prompts him to come to a complete standstill. 

Laid out on the chabudai tables are two bowls of salmon daikon. Steam wafts from the freshly made dishes. As he approaches he catches the familiar aroma of simmered salmon and daikon.

At a loss for words he turns to Sanemi, confusion written all over his face.

Almost sheepishly Sanemi scratches the side of his neck. “You made me ohagi in the beginning, didn't you? Thought I should return the favor. I doubt it’s as good as the ones we had at restaurants, but I hope it tastes similar enough.”

Still mute with surprise, Giyuu sits down in silent admiration of the food before him. He notices that Sanemi has used the bowls and chopsticks they had bought together.

He enjoys salmon daikon no matter the chef, this is no different. And somehow, he feels more elated than any other time he has eaten this dish.

Picking up his chopsticks, he takes his first bite. The salmon is cooked perfectly and melts in his mouth, perfectly complemented by the sweetness of the daikon.

Opposite him, Sanemi drinks in Giyuu's unfiltered joy, eager for the oasis of his appreciation.

“How is it?”

Giyuu lifts his gaze to see Sanemi staring at him with barely restrained anticipation, tinged with something unusually vulnerable. He has not even touched his own food.

“It is good.” He answers truthfully.

A breath of silence passes. Then, the tense nervousness on Sanemi’s face melts away and in its place is the softest smile Giyuu has seen him wear.

“Really?” His voice is barely above a whisper, an awed exhale.

Giyuu nods. “Have you made this before?”

“No. I just based off the ones we had while we were travelling.”

Giyuu looks back down at the bowl. To master the dish by pure observation and tasting is an impressive feat.

“You are a talented cook, Sanemi. Thank you for making this.”

Sanemi coughs, a light blush blooming across his cheeks. “It's nothing. It's just rice, daikon and fish.”

Perhaps, but Sanemi made it for Giyuu. And that alone is enough.

Giyuu continues eating, making sure to savor every bite. Sanemi now only begins to eat though he spends more time focusing on Giyuu than on his meal.

A relieved smile curls around Giyuu’s chopsticks as he reflects on his whirlwind of emotions the past few hours.

“I'm glad. I thought I had done something to upset you.”

Sanemi pauses in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were being dismissive today, telling me not to follow you and to stay away. I got worried.”

Sanemi grimaces. “Sorry. I didn't know it came across that way. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise by having you find out what I was planning to do.”

Giyuu shakes his head, filled with only relief and amusement. “It is fine. I am glad you thought of doing this for me.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

A spark of selfish bravery ignites in Giyuu, compelling to toe the edges of Sanemi’s generosity.

“Sanemi, will you cook this for me again?”

To his surprise, Sanemi laughs, bright and content.

“As many times as you want.”

Tengen tells them to arrive early in the evening for the party. So Giyuu and Sanemi agree to leave their estate late afternoon to reach on time.

Almost an hour has gone by since Sanemi started waiting at the entrance of their estate. And there is still no sight of Giyuu. Tapping his foot impatiently, Sanemi wonders irritatedly what is taking him so long. 

He storms over to Giyuu’s room, retort ready at the tip of his tongue. “Giyuu! What’s the hold up? The party’s going to be over by the time we make it there.”

“I just need a moment. I will be done soon,” comes Giyuu’s unhurried reply from the other side of the door.

“By the time you’re done we’ll be ten years too late for the stupid party.” Sanemi sighs. “I’m coming in.”

Giving only Giyuu a second to react, he slides the door open. If Giyuu is still undressed after so long, the fault lies with him.

Thankfully, Giyuu is not naked. But he is in an arguable state of undress. His kimono is rumpled and sagging on top of his hakama. His obi hangs loose on his fingers in his interrupted attempt to tie it. 

Giyuu bought a new kimono and hakama on their way back, wanting to get something for the occasion. It was something that Sanemi had internally cheered, pleased that Giyuu finally for once purchased something luxurious for himself. But now it is the cause of his annoyance, beginning to push the limits of his patience.

The obi is shorter than the one he usually uses. It is also made of silk which is more slippery than his cotton one. Sanemi assumes that is the pain point.

“ That’s what’s taking you so long?”

Giyuu scowls, unappreciative of his patronizing complaint. 

Resolutely ignoring Sanemi, he resumes tying his obi. But with two ends that require simultaneous coordination, it is hard to complete with one hand. He even tries to hold one end with his mouth but to no avail. Sanemi watches growing frustration mount in Giyuu as the fabric slips from his grasp again.

Sanemi cannot watch this anymore. “Let me do it.”

The stubborn crease in Giyuu’s brows deepens. “I can do it.”

Sanemi withholds his urge to bite back with barbed words that would have come all too easily, had he not understood the reason for Giyuu’s persistence. Impatient jabs are not what he needs right now.

“I know you can. But I want to help.” He tries, tempering his frustration into a patient request.

Giyuu maintains a rigid stance, an obstinate set in his clenched jaws.

“Giyuu, please.” Sanemi pushes.

The tense line along Giyuu’s shoulders crumbles. With a low sigh, he hands the obi over to Sanemi and turns his face away.

Taking the obi from him, Sanemi steps into Giyuu’s reluctantly offered space. Giyuu’s gaze is defiantly fixed to the floor. With their faces only inches away from each other, Sanemi can see the indignation flaring in his eyes, clear as day.

It is at this instant that Sanemi is reminded again of the other man’s bull-headedness. Giyuu’s delicate features have fooled many into coming to a false conclusion that he is an unfeeling pushover, himself included. Underneath the calm surface hides raging currents that threaten to swallow the unsuspecting if a wrong needs to be righted. 

As Sanemi wraps the obi around his waist, he uses the moment of uneasy tension to consider his next words. 

“You know, someone once told me that he wants to try living, and find strength in those who are still alive. If it were anyone else, I might have said they were full of shit. But those words came from someone I last expected to hear them from. So it stuck.”

Giyuu remains silent, but the sharp intake of breath at having his own words thrown back at him is an indication good as any. 

“So here I am, also trying to live and drawing strength to do so from those around me. That dumbass better remember to do the same, or else he’d be a dumbass and hypocrite.”

By the end of his speech, he has already finished tying the obi knot and opts to rest his hands on each side of Giyuu’s waist. It is thinner than he expects. With a slight nudge of his hands, he gets Giyuu to turn around so that he can take a look at the obi from the other side. It looks fine from behind as well.

“...Thank you, Sanemi.”

Sanemi hums in acknowledgement. “Good that you still remember to thank people for helping you.”

Neither makes a move to step out of each other’s space. Sanemi’s hands are still on Giyuu but Giyuu makes no indication of wanting him to let go.

Now that he is no longer occupied with a task, Sanemi lets his eyes wander across Giyuu’s back. From his obi that wraps firm around his waist, to the stretch of blue fabric across his back, to soft midnight locks.

Giyuu shifts, and the ends of his hair fan across a smooth stretch of a pale neck. The sight of it ensnares Sanemi, an unbreakable spell.

Captivated, Sanemi leans down and chases after the movement with his mouth.

At the faintest brush of lips against skin, Giyuu lets out a startled hitch of breath.

Emboldened by his reaction, Sanemi curls his fingers around the obi and gives it a firm tug. Giyuu stumbles back by a half-step, bumping into Sanemi's chest — right where he wants him.

Giyuu’s back presses a scorching line against his chest. Sanemi can hear his heart thundering in his ears. He wonders if Giyuu can feel it thump a fervent beat against his back. 

“Sanemi, what…?”

Sanemi huffs, the puff of warm air causing Giyuu to flinch. Giving the obi a final pull, he eventually lets go. He pretends not to hear the sharp inhale from Giyuu when the obi jerks at his waist.

“Just making sure I tie it right.”

Giyuu tilts his head over his shoulder at Sanemi. It brings Sanemi immense satisfaction to see the heated flush in his cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes.

If all it takes is a hint of a kiss and semi-rough handling to work him up to this state, Sanemi craves to see the look of absolute debauchery on him if Giyuu allows him to do as he pleases.

If only.

Sanemi clears his throat. “Come on, we better make a move or Uzui is going to throw a fit.”

The haze in his eyes clear and Giyuu settles back into his usual calm. Lingering scepticism draws his brows into a faint frown. 

Taking a step back to put some sobering distance between them, Sanemi gives him a onceover. “You look good. It suits you.”

Giyuu raises his hand to his middle, thin fingers sliding across the obi. Sanemi’s eyes track the movement, hypnotized.

“I'm glad. You did say I look better in blue.”

Sanemi snaps his gaze up to meet Giyuu's eyes. Giyuu is staring right back at him, eyes a piercing shade of sapphire.

Without another word, he quietly walks out the room.

Sanemi again eyes the obi snug around his waist. He indulges in the split-second thought of unravelling it and watching the smooth fabric slip past Giyuu's hip and pool around his feet, before following after the other man.

The walk to the Uzui estate is quiet. Their hands are full with gifts of all sorts, courtesy of Giyuu’s insistence to get something for not only the hosts but also the guests.

They are not the first to arrive. The Kamado siblings, their yellow-haired and boar-head friends beat them to it. Kanao had also arrived slightly after her peers and is currently in the circle of merry misfits.

“Finally, the adults are here!” Tengen cries out cheerfully when they enter. “I have been waiting to open the bottle of sake since forever!”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “You just want an excuse to get wasted.”

“Nonsense. I am merely being a good host.”

Giyuu and Sanemi go over to catch up with the rest, though it is Giyuu who does most of the talking.

Tanjirou and Nezuko launch into a lively conversation with Giyuu, giving lengthy updates on their own lives. Giyuu in return showers the siblings with gifts of food and clothes as usual, eliciting astonished responses from them ( “Giyuu-san, you really don’t have to! We haven’t even had the chance to wear everything you’ve gifted us so far!” )

The two of them, however, are wearing kimonos that Giyuu previously gifted them. Sanemi remembers picking those out with Giyuu a few months ago. He notices the delighted glint in Giyuu’s eyes and finds himself smiling as well.

From the corner of his eye, Sanemi spots the yellow-haired brat glaring at Giyuu for some reason. Riling with protective contempt, he outmatches the boy with a scalding look in response. Utterly cowed, the kid squeaks and scurries over to the boar-headed one for refuge. 

The three Ubuyashiki siblings arrive shortly after, receiving a hearty welcome from everyone present. While Nezuko goes over to speak with them, Tanjirou waves at the siblings with a bright grin before turning back to Giyuu.

“Giyuu-san, I've been wanting to tell you – you seem even happier than I last saw you. You and Shinazugawa-san both, actually. The trip went well then?”

Giyuu nods, prompting a smile from Tanjirou.

“There is a scent of happiness surrounding the two of you ever since you arrived. I'm glad you have grown closer.”

“I am glad as well.”

The radiant beam on Tanjirou’s face brightens. “In fact, the scent is similar to my parents when they are together! It’s very nostalgic!”

Giyuu's face warms so much he wonders if Tanjirou notices. “...Is that so.”

“I wish the two of you happiness ahead!”

Giyuu clamps down the urge to squirm under Tanjirou’s earnest smile. Instead, he diverts their conversation to something he has been itching to bring up.

“After your letter, I went back to Mount Sagiri.”

Tanjirou’s smile dims. “Yes, you mentioned in your letter. You didn't say what happened though.”

“I wasn't sure how to put it into words.” Giyuu admits. He wanted to tell Tanjirou what transpired on the mountain that night, but every time the tip of his pen touches paper his mind blanks.

A look of sincere understanding passes Tanjirou’s features. “It's surreal, isn't it?”

“I did not see him, not like you did.” Giyuu raises his hand, fingers ghosting across his chest as he recalls the strange sensation of being embraced despite having only the surrounding cold mountain air for company.

“I felt something, I was sure it was him back then. But now I don't know.”

Heartfelt faith gleams in ruby-red eyes. “If you believe it was Sabito, then it is him.”

Giyuu falls silent for a moment. It is a wishful thought. “How was he, when you saw him?” 

Tanjirou mentioned in his letter how Sabito had trained him, but Giyuu aches to hear everything directly from the boy himself.

Tanjirou’s expression softens as his eyes glaze over in recollection.

“Sabito was kind, and so incredible. He never gave up on me. When I finally cut his mask, which somehow turned out to be the boulder, he looked relieved yet so sad. I didn't really understand until I saw the demon at the Final Selection. I’m truly sorry for what happened to Sabito and all the other students.”

Giyuu reaches to clasp on his shoulder. “You did well. Sabito would have been proud.”

Tanjirou lets out a shaky breath, a misty sheen clouding his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Giyuu squeezes his shoulder, lips curling into a grateful smile. “No, thank you .”

After a few more exchanges of their day-to-day updates, Tanjirou floats over to Kanao and the Ubuyashiki siblings for a chat. Giyuu then spots Suma running over to him with a delighted grin.

“Tomioka-san! It's been so long!”

“You look well, Suma.”

“I am, yes! So do you!” With an animated wave of her hand she beckons him to follow her.

Before he does so, Giyuu peers around to locate Sanemi. Seeing Sanemi getting wrangled by Tengen into a conversation, he determines that he is in good hands and follows Suma.

As she leads him down the hall, she launches into a lively spiel. “I've been wanting to have you try the neri yokan I made, but then you went travelling with Shinazugawa-san. I wasn't sure if it would keep well if I sent them over, so I thought to wait until you return.”

They reach the dining room, where a plate of neri yokan sits on the table among other delectable snacks.

At her enthusiastic encouragement, Giyuu takes one slice to try. It is sweet with the aroma of red beans, and smooth in its jelly-like consistency. 

“It's good. Thank you for making them.”

Suma cheers in vindicated joy. 

Giyuu thinks Sanemi may like this too. “Can you teach me?”

“Of course! I’ve been trying other things as well, maybe you can be my taste tester some time?”

She then leans closer to him in a clandestine whisper. “Also because I think Tengen-sama, Hinatsuru-san and Makio-san are starting to get a little sick of eating so many sweets.”

“I love anything that you make for me, Suma.” Tengen calls out as he enters the room, giving her a pat on the head when he is close enough. “Though I would not say no to an additional opinion from a trusted friend.”

“Tengen.” Giyuu says in greeting.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu! How was your little journey with our resident pufferfish?”

“It went well. We saw a lot of Japan.”

Tengen grins, all sly and esoteric. “And of each other, I assume?”

Giyuu blinks. He supposes what Tengen means is that he and Sanemi have learnt different sides of each other.

“There was much we discovered about each other, yes.”

Tengen throws a conspiratorial look at Suma, who hides a giggle behind her hand. “I am most sure.”

Tilting his head, Giyuu wonders if he has missed the punchline to a joke. Before he can clarify, he hears the sounds of approaching footsteps and rambunctious yelling.

Tanjirou and his friends burst into the room like a windstorm, led by Inosuke with his chaotic sprinting. Giyuu spots Urokodaki following in soon after and goes over to catch up with him.

Eventually everyone else gathers in the dining room for dinner. Giyuu wanders over to Sanemi and settles down on the seat next to him. 

“Where did you go?” Sanemi asks curiously. Giyuu tells him about his tasting session with Suma, and points at the plate of neri yokan which Sanemi glances at in casual interest.

“Sounds fun. Better than my conversation with Uzui, if you could even call it that.”

“What did you two talk about?”

Sanemi stills, then clears his throat awkwardly. “Just the usual nonsense from him. Nothing worth remembering. I only recall getting pissed off by him.”

Giyuu’s gaze searches for Tengen who sits further down the line, only to find him already staring back with a mischievous glint in his eye. Tengen winks when they make eye contact, the intent behind it lost to Giyuu.

As the night goes on, the entire estate is filled with overlapping chatter and laughter. The food is exceptional, though Giyuu expects no less from a hospitable family like the Uzuis.

As they are gradually nearing the end of dinner, Hinatsuru suddenly stands up and addresses them all.

“May I have a moment to make an announcement?”

They all turn to face her in curiosity, except for her spouses. Tengen looks at her fondly, while Suma and Makio smile in barely restrained exhilaration.

“We have some good news that we are excited to share with all of you,” Hinatsuru continues and she sweeps a delighted gaze across her audience.

“I am with child.”

There is a long pause in silence before everyone erupts into varying states of astonishment and excitement. Among the ruckus, she hears Inosuke yell out ( “What's that mean! Is that something we can eat?” ) and she bursts into laughter.

“That's why we wanted to host this party. It's a wonderful moment for us, and we wanted to share this happiness with you.” Tengen elaborates with an ear-splitting grin.

“Congratulations, we wish you a happy and fortunate life ahead!” Tanjirou exclaims.

“Thank you for sharing this treasured news with us.” Kiriya smiles and raises his cup. “Please accept our best wishes for your journey towards parenthood.”

They all raise their cups and drink to it.

After the dinner and celebration, the party has split into various circles. Tanjirou, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Kanao have gone out to the garden to play some rowdy game with Inosuke that he apparently made up. The Ubuyashiki siblings have pulled the Uzuis to one side to have a lengthy conversation about the child and their upcoming parenthood. Giyuu has sought his teacher out to resume their conversation from earlier.

Sanemi decides to retreat to the engawa for a much-needed breather. As much as he appreciates reuniting with everyone on a joyous occasion, it has left him a little more drained than he would like to admit.

Leaning against a pillar, he nurses his drink as he stares quietly into the night sky. There are clouds overhead, he wonders if it may rain later.

“Shinazugawa-san, good evening!”

He bites back an annoyed groan.

Tanjirou steps out to the engawa and stands next to him. “The weather tonight is excellent for a happy gathering like this, isn't it?”

Sanemi throws him a lazy glare. “What do you want? As if your letters aren't a nuisance enough already.”

“Having a face-to-face talk where you will actually respond is much different from a one-way written exchange, don't you think so?”

Sanemi twitches. The audacity of this kid.

But Tanjirou thankfully does not provoke him further. “I'm glad to see you're well, Shinazugawa-san. I wasn't sure how things would turn out when Giyuu-san told me he moved in with you, and then updated that he started travelling with you. But it seems like you two have become closer, I'm very happy to see it.”

Sanemi grunts, nonchalant.

Undeterred, Tanjirou continues. “Giyuu-san is very kind. Please take care of him.”

That catches Sanemi’s attention. He finally turns to face Tanjirou, regarding him solemnly.

As much as the kid gets on his nerves, he cannot deny the enduring bond shared between the two former users of Water Breathing. He remembers the gentle fondness in Giyuu’s eyes when he talks about Tanjirou. He remembers the numerous letters the boy has been writing to Giyuu, each page filled with sincere words and well wishes.

“I will.” A promise, unyielding as iron, is avowed in a tone soft as the evening wind.

Tanjirou smiles. “You are a good person beneath your harsh exterior. Genya was like that too.”

Sanemi almost drops the cup in his hand. Tanjirou goes on speaking as if he does not pick out the shock surging throughout Sanemi.

“He pushed me away at first, but he turned out to be a wonderful person who would go through great lengths to protect the people around him. Genya really looked up to you too. Did you know he wanted to be a Hashira like you?”

Sanemi does not know that. 

“He wanted to be a Hashira so that he could speak to you. He got his opportunity during the Hashira training, but—well—”

Tanjirou falters with a weak smile. Sanemi clenches his jaw, chest aching with the memory of that day.

“It pained me to see him.” 

Tanjirou blinks, puzzled by Sanemi’s admission.

“Seeing him meant that he was in the corps. That he was unsafe, at risk of being hurt by a demon. I rather him blinded than killed. You can say that I'm fucked up, but that was what I thought. Being out of the corps was the best way to keep him safe. But of course he’s got the same stubborn streak as me. Guess it runs in the family.”

Tanjirou does not say anything for a while, a complicated expression clouding his face. But it eventually clears, replaced with a genuine smile.

“You Shinazugawa brothers sure are tough.”

Sanemi smirks wryly. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“I wish you a good life ahead, Shinazugawa-san. I’m sure Genya would have wished that for you too.”

Sanemi huffs out a laugh. “Can’t let him down after all that he’s done for me, can I? And stop writing to me.”

Tanjirou merely smiles. “No can do. I am under Giyuu’s orders to keep writing, remember?”

He leaves with an obstinately cheerful wave, Sanemi’s half-hearted glare and hissed insult ( “—Kamado you little shit—”) bouncing off his back.

Sanemi scoffs and turns back to face outside. What does someone need to do to get a bit of peace around here?

“Sanemi.”

The fire in his chest cools, but burns with a different kind of heat.

Giyuu steps into view, coming to rest at his side. Under the moonlight, the blue silk hakama glows and ripples like a winter stream.

Distracted by the sight before him, Sanemi barely remembers to respond. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you. What are you doing out here?”

Sanemi offers a shrug. “It's getting too noisy for me. Kamado and his stupid friends are so loud they're making my ears ring.”

Giyuu smiles, warm and fond. “They are a lively bunch.”

“Where is Urokodaki-san?”

“He just left, I saw him off. We had a long conversation earlier.” A pensive look crosses his face when he answers.

Sanemi throws a judgemental glance over his shoulder. “For his sanity and sake, it’s good that he left early. I’m not surprised if this place explodes in the next hour.”

Amused, Giyuu lets out an airy chuckle. “That would not be out of the ordinary, I suppose.”

He quietens down and observes Sanemi. “You seemed deep in thought just now. What’s on your mind?”

Sanemi shrugs, looking down at his cup. “Nothing much. Just that Kamado barged in just now with his yapping.”

“You’ve been talking to him. I am glad to see you two getting along.”

Sanemi crinkles his nose into a sneer. “I would not call that getting along.”

“Alright, then I will not call it that.” Giyuu replies, humoring him. “But you looked content tonight, it pleases me to see you like this.”

Sanemi turns to Giyuu, suspicious. “Have you been drinking?”

“No. After getting drunk that one time, I know my limits now.”

Sanemi recalls the way Giyuu’s eyes glazed over, the way he called out to Sanemi like an ethereal dream. He cannot convey how relieved he is that Giyuu chose not to indulge in alcohol tonight.

“What did you and Urokodaki-san talk about?” He asks instead, picking at a different topic.

Giyuu falls silent, staring at Sanemi for a few seconds.

“About me, mainly. About the kind of life I want to live.”

That piques Sanemi’s curiosity. “Oh? What did you tell him?”

Giyuu pauses, contemplation stalling his response for a moment. “I told him I want to live a life of no regrets, of one that I can live to my heart’s fullest content. That means being with people that matter to me, which is what I have been doing.”

Sanemi stares at him, caught between uncertainty and hope. “Is that so?”

Giyuu smiles serenely. “Yes. I told him that I am content with where I am now.”

“When you mean ‘where’—” Sanemi’s words wedge in his throat, suddenly riddled with nervousness, “—what do you mean by that?”

The smile on Giyuu’s face softens. “I mean here.”

Sanemi is rendered speechless. He opens his mouth, unsure of what to say but compelled to respond nonetheless—

“What do we have here? Two love birds trying to get a private moment to themselves?”

Irritation flares in Sanemi at the interruption. He clicks his tongue loudly as Tengen’s exclamation bursts out from behind.

“We are just getting some fresh air.” Giyuu explains, unfazed by his remarks.

“Is that so?” Tengen shoots Sanemi a sly grin, who sneers back in response.

“Not everyone thinks with their dick, unlike you.”

Tengen scoffs haughtily. “Just because I have three wives doesn't mean I'm always up and running and ready to go. Not that my nighttime activities are dreary though, mind you.”

Sanemi makes a disgusted noise.

Giyuu smiles, unperturbed. “It seems like you're doing well these days, Tengen.”

Tengen grins. “With wives as lovely as those three, how can I not?”

“That is good. You are very lucky.”

“Do I hear a hint of longing? Looking to have a wife of your own?”

Giyuu shakes his head. “Not really. But it makes me happy to see the four of you this happy.”

The grin on Tengen’s face softens. “We've really come this far, haven't we?”

Sanemi grunts in agreement. “Yeah, so you better take care of Hinatsuru during this time. She's going to go through a lot. Pregnancy takes a toll on the mother's body, so look after her closely.”

Tengen raises a brow. “You seem to know a lot about this.”

Sanemi is quiet for a moment before he speaks. “I'm the eldest of seven. I helped take care of my mother when she carried some of my younger siblings, and later on my siblings themselves when they were born.”

Tengen hums with an inscrutable look that hides everything except his curiosity.

Giyuu sees the opportunity to chime in. “Sanemi has maintained his knowledge and skills. He is still quite good at taking care of people.”

“Oh?” Tengen rapidly switches his attention to Giyuu. “Taking care of who? You?”

Giyuu nods. Sanemi grumbles a protest at him in warning.

Tengen’s expression morphs into something sly. “Perhaps you needn't long for a spouse anymore, Giyuu. You seem to have that sorted out rather well.”

“Shut the fuck up, Uzui.” Sanemi hisses.

Tengen barks out a laugh. Giyuu only tilts his head in confusion, the implications lost in translation.

“And to think that more than six months ago, you were fumbling about making sweets for Shinazugawa who was all too happy to yell at you for every reason under the sun. You two have come far as well.”

Sanemi scoffs. “It's not the quality of the ohagi that wore me down, if that's what you're wondering.”

Giyuu smiles, untroubled by Sanemi’s gruff statement. He has gotten better at understanding him, something he is privately pleased about.

“We came a long way, indeed.”

“And you're not as unflashy as before, Giyuu.” Tengen gestures to Giyuu, pleased at the stark difference in personality.

Giyuu’s smile spreads wider in satisfaction. Sanemi only narrows his eyes at Tengen in growing wariness. 

Tengen laughs jovially. “Keep smiling like that and I'll seriously start having a conversation with my wives about taking you in as a fourth wife!”

Sanemi fires a scathing glare at Tengen, who willfully ignores him. Giyuu, on the other hand, hardly bats an eye.

“Uzui, you shitfaced—”

“—Tengen, I'm not a woman.”

Tengen cackles. “You don't have to be a woman to be a wife!”

At the skeptical crease between Giyuu's brows, Tengen leans forward with a knowing grin. “Sometimes, being a wife is a mindset. It's the way you act.”

Giyuu tilts his head. “And how does one act like a wife?”

“Excellent question.” Tengen crosses his arm in smug approval. “There are many ways to be a wife, and a flamboyant one at that. My wives have their own ways to express their love! You will need to figure out what suits you most.”

Giyuu closes his eyes in contemplation, then nods sagely. “I think I understand now.”

Sanemi gawks at him in exasperation. “Why the hell are you still humoring him?”

“Because he knows good advice when he hears one! Especially when offered so generously from yours truly!”

“Good advice, my ass.” Sanemi turns to sneer at Giyuu. “Don’t listen to his honeyed words. You don’t want to get caught in his trap like a half-brained fly.”

Tengen snickers, as if laughing at a joke only he knows the punchline to.

“I know what I’m talking about. If you want to be a good lover, Giyuu , you know who to ask.” He winks.

Sanemi bristles at the way Tengen’s voice dips with Giyuu’s name. And Giyuu, the dense idiot, agrees like he does not know what he just signed himself up for.

Tengen then grins at Sanemi. “The offer extends to you too, Shinazugawa! A lesson on learning how to express your love in a tender and flashy fashion would do you much good.”

“I’ll pass.” Sanemi shoots him down with a deadpan glare. 

Tengen shakes his head with a disappointed sigh. “My sympathies to your future lover. Don’t you agree, Giyuu?”

Sanemi’s eye twitches. Giyuu’s presence is the sole inhibition preventing him from throwing himself at Tengen to wring his neck like a soaked towel, host status be damned.

“It is joyous news, that they are having children.” Giyuu remarks as they take a late night stroll back to their estate. They left the gathering around midnight, and were promised to be invited again when the baby is born.

Sanemi turns to him curiously. “Do you want to have children?”

Giyuu thinks about it and shrugs. “I don’t know. I have not given it much thought.”

Sanemi hums noncommittally. The life of a demon slayer leaves little room for a family. But they are demon slayers no more, and now would be a good time as any to have one.

He catches a faint chuckle from Giyuu. “This reminds me of that night you dragged me back to the inn after I got drunk.”

“Why did you think I asked if you had been drinking?”

Giyuu laughs; it is a beautiful sound. “It seems you are always taking care of me.”

Sanemi flusters. “Cause you’re terrible at it.”

Giyuu smiles, but it swiftly dims like a snuffed flame.

“...you have not answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“That night when I was drunk. When I asked if we were friends, you said you didn’t know.”

Sanemi freezes. “I hadn’t realized you remembered.”

“Only bits and pieces. That conversation, I remembered.” 

Sanemi falls quiet and slows to a stop. When he musters an answer, he does not meet Giyuu’s eyes.

“You’re a part of my life now. I have grown used to you—grown comfortable with you. I don’t know if what we have is entirely friendship, but you—you’re…important.”

Giyuu blinks. “You are important as well.”

Sanemi shakes his head as he faces Giyuu fully. “No, you're not understanding me.”

Slowly, he reaches up to rest a hand on the side of Giyuu’s face. Watching the way Giyuu’s eyes widen, Sanemi wonders if he too is thinking back to the moment on Mount Sagiri, tear-stained face in weathered hands.

Separately, he recalls the whisper-light touch of Giyuu’s fingers against his scabbed knuckles as he hopes for a chance for Sanemi’s hands to heal completely. In this moment, with Giyuu’s face in his hand, Sanemi bears faith that this is where he will find it.

Brushing an arch across Giyuu's cheekbone with his thumb, Sanemi quietly revels in the softness of Giyuu’s cheek, how it fits perfectly into the curve of his palm. Azure eyes stare right at him, brimming with stunned anticipation. 

“I want to hold you like this. I want to be the only one to hold you like this. I want to wake up to the sight of you. I can never get enough of hearing you say my name. Do you know that I started looking forward to eating your damn ohagi? Cause I had, even though I didn’t want to admit it at first. And now I want to do everything and anything that makes you happy.”

Sanemi leans closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Every time you smile, I can never look away. That salmon daikon I made for you? I saw how you smiled every time you ate it and I wanted to make it happen.

“You told me before that if I want something I only need to ask. It is you — you are what I want. I want you so much it hurts.”

If Sanemi possessed the artful eloquence of a poet drunk on infatuation he would have spun intricate lines of reverent adoration until the dawn breaks. But he is merely a man with a heart overflowing with affection, engulfed in a passion borne out of love. For once in a long time, the fire inside him burns pure and devoid of the rage that festered in the shadow of his flames.

Giyuu stares at him, lips parted in shock. Sanemi longs to close the distance and know how it feels and tastes against his own mouth.

But he cannot, not until he has a reply from Giyuu. 

“What about you? Do you still think we are friends?”

Giyuu considers him, for a moment so long it is almost torturous. “Yes.”

A numbing cold douses Sanemi as his heart plunges with the answer. He lowers his hand from Giyuu’s face, but Giyuu hastily clutches onto it. Sanemi startles, searching Giyuu’s eyes for an explanation.

Frantic desperation flickers in those eyes. Giyuu’s mouth twitches, as if struggling to unscramble his emotions to form the right sequence of words to roll off his tongue. Eventually he speaks, voice hushed in its yearnful confession.

“We are friends. But I have never wanted someone the way I want you. All that you want of me — to hold me, to wake up next to me — I want it. There is no one else.”

Sanemi sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to look away, but the intensity in Giyuu’s eyes ensnares him from where he stands. They burn with the need to be understood, and Sanemi understands.

Just then, a drop of rain falls on Sanemi's cheek. It is hardly worth his notice, but Giyuu leans in until their clothes rustle against each other. Raising his hand to Sanemi’s face, Giyuu brushes the droplet off it. Slowly, delicately, like ink off a painting.

His fingers linger, fanning over Sanemi’s cheek in captivated reverence.

Sanemi stares back, hopelessly and equally besotted.

“Sanemi.” Giyuu says, hushed and soft as if any louder will shatter the spell.

“Giyuu.” Sanemi murmurs back, a spellbound response to his hypnotic call.

Like a trance, they draw each other in until their lips meet.

And everything goes silent. All they can feel is the alluring warmth from each other, from the yielding give of their mouths to the steady press of their chests.

Giyuu is the first to pull apart, albeit reluctantly. Sanemi gazes down at him, eyes half-lidded as he drinks in the mesmerizing sight of the other man.

And it is as if something has ignited in them both. Giyuu all but throws himself at Sanemi, who catches him around the waist, having finally found the answer to their own longing in each other's mouths.

With insatiable desperation to melt into each other's embrace, their hands roam and tug to pull the other close. Sanemi stumbles backwards under the intensity of Giyuu’s passion until his back hits a wall. Giyuu only pushes further, intent on imprinting every inch of his body onto Sanemi.

Groaning into the kiss, Sanemi grips Giyuu’s obi in his fist, cinching the fabric around his waist. Giyuu gasps faintly, breath constricted for but a second. But a second is all it takes for Sanemi, emboldened by Giyuu’s inviting surrender, to slip his tongue into his parted mouth. Giyuu makes a noise of surprise at the intrusion but eagerly meets him with his own tongue.

It is messy, it is marvelous. The rain grows heavier with each breath they take, with each second their bodies continue to meld together. 

Losing themselves in the fervent touch of each other, everything around them fades away into nothing. With the fire burning from within, they hardly feel the chill from the rain. Soaked by the unrelenting rain, their hair and clothes plaster onto their skin. 

They only resurface when they finally need to catch their breath. Even then, they remain close, unable to bear being apart. Their lips brush against each other, an impassioned ghost of a reminder.

“It's raining heavily.” Giyuu says, panting lightly.

Sanemi is faring no better, chest fluttering with quick, short breaths. “Yeah.”

“We should head back.”

“...Yeah.”

And yet, Sanemi's arms remain wrapped around Giyuu's waist and back, and Giyuu’s hand continues to cradle Sanemi’s jaw.

Eventually Sanemi relents, releasing Giyuu with a grunt. 

“Come on. If we stay out too long we really will get sick.”

They rush back to their estate, feet padding loud and frantic against wet ground. By the time they see the familiar place up ahead, the chill has seeped into their bones, cooling much of the heat off their skin. 

However, even after they close the gates, the air still sparks with anticipation, fizzling the ends of their fingertips and the back of their necks.

Giyuu steals a glance at Sanemi, only to find him already staring at him.

Their gazes immediately dart away from each other.

“I will take a bath now.” Giyuu murmurs.

Sanemi nods, stilted. “Sure.”

Giyuu hurries away, feeling the weight on his chest lifting with every step.

He takes his time in the bath, sinking downwards until only the top half of his head remains above the water surface. He intends for it to clear his head, but it merely does the opposite, the heat from the water only reminding him of the enticing warmth of Sanemi’s body against his.

Giyuu squeezes his eyes shut in a futile attempt to chase the memory away. 

The rain has stopped by the time he eventually emerges from the bath. When he makes his way back to his room, he spares a glance at Sanemi's door. The room appears unlit. He has not returned, and Giyuu contemplates waiting out here for him.

But before he lets his impulses get the better of him, he flees back to his room and buries himself into his futon. His body is thrumming with energy, his mind buzzes with residue excitement. The swell of desire is frightening and he is at a loss on what to do with the lingering heat.

Just as he decides to force slumber upon himself, the sound of muffled footsteps reaches his ears.

The door slides open. Giyuu counts for two seconds before he turns around.

Silver moonlight casts a shadow over Sanemi, basking his snow-white hair in an ethereal glow.

For an absurd second, Giyuu suspects he has conjured this Sanemi up in his fantasy.

Sanemi steps forward. Slowly, deliberately. Along the firm lines of his legs, the steady sway of his hips, the desirous glint in his eyes, Giyuu sees restrained desire. One that matches the fire smouldering inside of him.

Sanemi comes to a stop right next to his futon. Giyuu does not sit up, and instead chooses to observe from where he lies.

A second passes and neither moves, silently sizing each other up. Waiting for the other to make the first move.

Then, Sanemi lowers himself onto his knees. He crawls forward to rest his hands on either side of Giyuu's head. Heat simmers in his wandering eyes as his gaze lazily drags up Giyuu's body.

Giyuu tilts his head in silent invitation. He sees the instant Sanemi's pupils dilate.

Sanemi dips his head until he hovers over Giyuu's neck, right above the spot where he kissed him earlier that day.

Giyuu is taut with anticipation, but Sanemi has a frustrating amount of patience tonight.

Or perhaps he is waiting for Giyuu to do something.

Raising his hand to the back of Sanemi's head, Giyuu sinks his fingers into soft hair.

Sanemi sighs, warm breath fanning across Giyuu's neck.

“Sanemi.” Giyuu gasps, and is almost abashed by how shattered he already sounds. “ Please .”

Sanemi does not need to be told twice.

He descends, hot mouth against tempting flesh. Giyuu's fingers spasm, accidentally tugging Sanemi's hair. Sanemi groans into his neck, a primal sound that sends a heated bolt of desire right between his thighs.

Curious by his reaction, Giyuu gives a more purposeful tug. A proper moan tumbles out of Sanemi this time and his teeth catch on pale skin. A soft whine escapes him as Sanemi leaves a blooming bruise at a spot right below his jaw.

Giyuu guides him to his own mouth. Sanemi descends with a ravenous kiss, his quiet moan spilling into Giyuu’s mouth. 

“Been thinking about this the whole day.” Sanemi slurs, almost drunkenly. “Been wanting to touch you like this.”

Giyuu feels a hand on his chest tugging his yukata open, fingers spreading across his exposed chest. He arches up against his meandering caress, gentle and sure.

“Been wanting you to touch me like this too.”

Sanemi stills. He pulls away to stare at Giyuu, who is already mourning the loss of contact. Bewilderment and awe war with each other on Sanemi’s flushed face.

“I swear - you save your words to say the unhinged things in most unexpected timings.”

Giyuu frowns, confused. “But you said practically the same thing just now.”

Sanemi’s eyes soften. “It's different when it's you.”

Giyuu wants to ask why, but Sanemi's attention has already moved on. His gaze falls onto Giyuu's chest. Feeling oddly vulnerable, he squirms a little awkwardly. Sanemi's eyes only sharpen at the tilt of his nipples.

With reverent curiosity, Sanemi brushes the pad of his thumb across one nub.

Giyuu flinches at the foreign sensation, unused to such an intimate touch.

Sanemi smirks. “Someone's sensitive.”

“I'm not sensitive.” He insists, suppressing the tremor in his voice.

Sanemi’s smirk widens. He lifts his gaze up to meet Giyuu's eyes, almost in challenge.

He leans down, wraps his lips around one nipple, and sucks.

The shout that escapes Giyuu echoes loudly across the room.

“Perhaps I can change your mind.” The smug arrogance is evident in his tone.

Giyuu lets out an indignant huff, riled up by his incitation. Hooking a leg around Sanemi, he pushes himself up and with a firm twist he flips the other man onto his back.

Sanemi spins with the momentum and collapses onto the futon. His eyes are dazed and his chest heaves in surprise, having the breath knocked out of him.

Giyuu hangs over Sanemi, staring down at him in amused satisfaction. He rests his hand on Sanemi’s chest, fingers teasing at the seams between fabric and skin. Sanemi audibly swallows, ignited with the simplest of touches.

“Perhaps you can try harder.” Giyuu says, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Then, without warning Giyuu tugs Sanemi's yukata loose, revealing the scarred planes of his chest. Running his hand up the surface, he brushes his fingers past every inch of skin he can touch. It skates across his nipples, pulling at it, causing Sanemi to gasp and flinch.

Sanemi's eyes are blown wide, mouth parted in sheer amazement. He looks up at Giyuu in reverence like he can stay like this forever.

Giyuu shivers at the look of sheer awe he is pinned with. He has never been gazed upon like that before.

He shifts on Sanemi’s lap to find a more comfortable spot. In doing so, he rubs his crotch against Sanemi, causing both to groan in unison.

Sliding a hand up Giyuu’s thigh, Sanemi parts the slit of his yukata with every inch he roams upwards. Unchartered territory unfurls with every extending claim.

Giyuu feels a hand wrap around him, and all coherence and thought subsequently escapes him. His mouth moves to form Sanemi's name, but the only sounds that come out are drawn out moans.

“Fuck, Giyuu.” Sanemi stares up at him, drinking in the sight of eyes half-lidded in ecstasy, cheeks flushed in a dusky red, mouth parted in lascivious want.

Sanemi’s fingers are rough and calloused from his days as a hardened warrior. They drag against Giyuu's cock, sending him into a spiral of sensation and stimulation.

Sanemi sits up to close the distance between them. Giyuu’s hand finds comfort in his hair again, fingers slipping between ivory tresses.

Sanemi releases Giyuu, bringing his hand up to his own mouth. Trapping Giyuu with his gaze, Sanemi slides his fingers into his mouth, one at a time.

Ignited by the way Giyuu’s hungry, hounding stare tracks his every movement, he puts on a show. His tongue runs over each digit, making sure every inch is covered, flicking at the tips of every finger. Giyuu’s tongue darts out in want, coating the bottom petal of his own lip.

Freeing his slicked fingers, Sanemi chases after Giyuu’s inviting mouth. While Giyuu is distracted by the taste of Sanemi’s lips, Sanemi reaches back down to wrap around Giyuu.

His fingers glide over more easily this time, dragging a contented moan out of Giyuu.

Giyuu flails his hand until he grasps Sanemi's hip. Feverish fingers wander until they hastily bump into a hard cock, still covered by a layer of fabric. Sanemi chokes out a lip-bitten moan as he instinctively ruts into his hand.

With frenzied desperation Giyuu pulls the yukata apart until he feels something hot in his palm. He closes his fist and almost immediately Sanemi tightens his grip around Giyuu in response. 

Giyuu runs a thumb over the slit of Sanemi’s cock, spreading beading pearls over his length. Twisting his hand so that it drags over each inch of Sanemi, Giyuu revels in the way Sanemi squeezes his eyes so tightly tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

A broken moan spills out of Sanemi and Giyuu leans down to swallow the ending notes with a devouring kiss.

Sanemi returns the gesture with matching enthusiasm. He is not going to last long. He would have felt ashamed at such a pathetic demonstration of endurance, or lack thereof, except that there is no sight more erotic than the display before him right now.

“Sanemi, I’m—” Giyuu gasps, so breathless with pleasure he fails to find coherence to string together a proper sentence. Sanemi would find it in him to be amused had he not been drowning in his own euphoria.

“Y-Yeah, me too.” He quickens his pace. Giyuu chokes on his surprise but is not one to back down - he squeezes Sanemi’s cock harder, pumps it faster.

Sanemi’s eyes snap open in disoriented pleasure. “Fuck, Giyuu—”

“Sanemi—!” Giyuu calls out, an unspoken request stuck on a frantic tongue. A plea for Sanemi to look at him when he comes.

Sanemi all but obeys, fixating on bright azure eyes glazed over with pleasure, on a wet mouth gasping out his name.

Giyuu, spiraling into a state of utter ecstasy, because of him .

Sanemi leans up and greedily swallows Giyuu’s cry as he reaches his climax. Giyuu’s back bends into a beautiful arch, pressing his bare chest against Sanemi’s as he comes and comes. Sanemi carries him through his orgasm as he chases his own release in the tight curl of Giyuu’s fist.

He leans back, their lips parting with an obscene smack. He takes in the look of absolute debauchery that is Giyuu — wet tears clinging onto long lashes, eyes glistening and molten, mouth a dulcet rose-red — and burns it into memory as he falls over the edge.

He comes with Giyuu’s name on his tongue, releasing all over his own stomach like paint over canvas, joining Giyuu’s own spend.

It takes them both a moment to catch their breaths. They linger in each other’s spaces, panting mouths pressing featherlight kisses onto wherever they can touch.

Giyuu is the first to recover. He pushes himself to his feet to look for usable cloth in his room to clean their mess. Sanemi takes the cloth from Giyuu’s hand halfway through to help.

Once Sanemi’s breathing eventually returns to its usual rhythm, he moves to stand up. But Giyuu catches his wrist in a soft hold.

“Stay.”

Sanemi pauses in surprise, but obeys. He lies back down next to Giyuu and pulls the blanket up to Giyuu’s shoulder. They exchange a quiet look, drinking in the fading blissful flush in each other's faces.

No words are exchanged. They fall asleep with their shoulders pressed against each other, hearts connected through the intertwined link of their fingers.

Giyuu wakes up the next morning to the sensation of Sanemi pressing tender kisses along the exposed line of his shoulder, arm wrapped snug around his waist from behind. His mind is still heavy with restful slumber but his yearning body reacts on desirous instinct. Hooking his ankles onto Sanemi’s, Giyuu tilts his head back until his lips meet Sanemi’s answering mouth.

“Morning.” Giyuu says, a quiet exhale.

“Good morning.” Sanemi murmurs back, brushing stray quills of hair out of his eyes.

Giyuu hums in contentment, eyes slipping back shut. “Good to know it was not a dream.”

Sanemi laughs quietly. “Do you usually dream of me like this?”

“Yes, though it does not compare to reality.”

Sanemi feels his face heat at the drowsy candor. “I don’t know if I should tell you to stop talking or not.”

He hears Giyuu huff in amusement. “There is one way to get me to stop talking.”

Sanemi reckons he knows what it is. He pulls Giyuu into his arms again.

A few days later, Sanemi goes wandering around the estate looking for Giyuu. Walking into the room Giyuu has tucked himself away in, he is greeted with the mild fragrance of citrus. Giyuu has made himself comfortable at a chabudai table. Oranges lay out in front of him as he peels one with his teeth.

“Are you trying to grow an orange tree in this room? I could smell the oranges the moment I stepped in.”

The corners of Giyuu’s lips lift with a pleased smile. “That means these are from a good harvest.”

“Can I help?”

Giyuu thinks for a moment, then nods. 

Instead of sitting next to him, Sanemi settles right behind Giyuu. Ignoring the puzzled tilt of his head, Sanemi leans in until his chest presses fully against Giyuu's back. Reaching his arms around Giyuu and hooking his chin on Giyuu's shoulder, Sanemi brackets him in his embrace as he picks an orange of his own to start peeling.

Giyuu says nothing, but his shoulders relax and he sinks back into Sanemi.

The quiet sounds of tearing orange skin accompany their slow breathing. 

“The oranges were freshly picked when I visited, apparently they are in season. So I wanted to get some for ourselves.” Giyuu explains.

“Try one.” Sanemi picks up a slice and nudges it between Giyuu’s lips. Giyuu parts his mouth and takes the fruit.

“It's sweet.” Giyuu says. “Do you want to try as well?”

“Okay.” Sanemi hooks a finger underneath Giyuu's chin and tilts it towards him. Closing in, he slots his mouth against his. Sanemi takes his time to savor the taste of Giyuu’s lips, tinged with a tangy sweetness.

He pulls away slowly in longing reluctance. “You're right, it is sweet.”

Giyuu stares up at him, breathlessly dazed.

“You are not being fair, Sanemi.”

“What's there to be unfair about?”

Giyuu huffs and turns back to the table. The ends of his ears are an endearing hue of red. Sanemi cannot help but lean in and press gentle kisses along the arch, trailing after the line until he finds home in the curve of his neck.

Giyuu lets him rest there as he continues peeling the oranges for them both.

“We should visit the Uzuis some time soon. I was thinking of getting some fruit for Hinatsuru.”

“I’m sure they have everything they need to take care of her. But we can go. It’s their first time having a child after all. Better make sure Uzui doesn’t mess up or worse, terrify the little thing before it even sees the light of day.”

Giyuu simpers. “And Sanemi knows all about taking care of people, hm?” 

Sanemi nips at the tip of Giyuu’s ear. “Now you are just mocking me. I’m eating the rest of your oranges.”

They end every night now with a soft, drawn out kiss. Sometimes they retreat to their separate rooms. Sometimes Sanemi lingers at his door, seeking Giyuu’s eyes with such yearning reluctance it compels Giyuu to go to him. Sometimes it is the other way around.

They do not do much when they are in each other’s rooms. They merely squeeze into the same futon and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

That is not to say that memories from that particular night do not saunter around the back of their minds. Every time Sanemi curls a hand around Giyuu’s hip to get his attention, every time Giyuu's fingers wander to find comfort in Sanemi’s, their minds replay moments of being caught in the pleasures of each other and their own.

And so they continue to dance around each other for a bit longer.

Until one day, one late night before either of them retire to bed, Giyuu enters Sanemi's room. 

Sanemi is in the middle of a book. Giyuu once pointed out that it is his favorite novel, something he picked up between the idle hours spent recuperating after the final battle. So Sanemi borrowed it for his own reading, curious to know what about it appeals to Giyuu.

Giyuu rests his head on the back of his shoulder and wraps his arm around his waist. He rubs his cheek against his shoulder, as if seeking comfort in his warmth.

Like a cat , Sanemi thinks fondly as he searches for Giyuu’s hand to lace their fingers together.

“Sanemi.” Giyuu mumbles quietly into his shoulder. Through the thin fabric of Sanemi’s yukata, his breath is warm. Sanemi suppresses a shiver.

“What?”

“It is quiet tonight.”

Sanemi blinks. “Yes, it is,” he answers slowly.

“The moon is out too. Your hair resembles the moonlight like this.”

“I suppose my hair is light enough to look like it.”

There is a pause as Giyuu mulls over his next words. “Your hair looked like that too, that night.”

“That night?” Sanemi pauses, then sighs. “Giyuu, I can’t understand you if you don’t spell it out to me.”

Giyuu’s fingers twitch in his hand. He is nervous, Sanemi realizes.

“That night, when we were,” Giyuu sinks further into Sanemi’s shoulder until his voice is barely audible, “intimate.”

Sanemi’s face heats. Suddenly, he is very, very aware of the parts of his body pressed up against Giyuu.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, deep. The way Giyuu’s arm tenses around his waist does not escape his notice.

“I was—I’ve been—thinking about that night.” Giyuu braves on.

Without releasing Giyuu’s hand, Sanemi twists his torso so that he can glimpse at his face, at the expression he is making right now.

He has never seen Giyuu’s face dusted with such an alluring shade before. Perhaps with the exception of that night, but it was dark then.

Now, under the glow of candlelight, he sees Giyuu in spellbinding clarity.

“Me too.” He confesses.

Giyuu’s eyes, blue as the cerulean sea, glow with unconcealed anticipation.

With his unoccupied hand, he brings a hand up to Giyuu’s cheek. He rests his thumb on the corner of his lips. A gentle tease, a light encouragement.

“What about that night?”

“I was thinking about it. And I missed the way you feel.”

Sanemi swallows. “Well, why don’t you try to feel me again?”

Giyuu’s pupils dilate, his breath quickens. And Sanemi knows that he has Giyuu caught and reeled.

Closing his book, he nudges Giyuu towards the futon. He makes use of the closing distance to slot his mouth against Giyuu, which Giyuu responds with quiet eagerness.

“Have you done this before?” He murmurs when they part.

Giyuu shakes his head. “Have you?”

“Me neither.” Unfortunately he cannot claim that he is well-versed in the arts of carnal pleasure, but he knows how to bring himself to completion at the very least. 

He has already pleasured Giyuu once. This dance may be new, but he has always been a fast learner.

Giyuu nods. “Perhaps we can use this.”

He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a pot, small enough to fit into his palm.

Sanemi squints at the unassuming container. “What is that?”

Pink blossoms across Giyuu’s cheeks, his pale complexion only accentuates the bashful tinge.

“Oil. Tengen gave it to me when we went to his party, said it would come in handy.”

Sanemi hisses a curse under his breath. Nosy bastard. But then his mind catches up in its observation.

“You came to my room with this in mind?”

Giyuu looks away, chin tucked in embarrassment. “I had hoped.”

Sanemi only smirks fondly. “Alright. How do you want to do this?”

Giyuu stares at the pot, mouth twitching in consideration. “You can use it on me.”

Sanemi has indulged in his late-night imaginations of them in various scenarios before. He admits that he had come to the thought of Giyuu inside of him, as well the other way around. He is pleased with whatever way he can have Giyuu. His blood burns at the thought of fulfilling his fantasy of being inside Giyuu very soon.

“Are you sure?”

Giyuu nods.

“Fuck, alright. Make yourself comfortable then.”

Giyuu stares at the futon under them as he considers how to position himself. Sanemi catches a split second of hesitation wavering in his eyes.

“Giyuu.”

Giyuu turns towards him as he is being pulled into Sanemi’s arms. Sanemi brings their lips together for a deep kiss and he feels the tension slowly ebb away from both their bodies.

“Neither of us have done this before, so let’s figure this out together, alright?”

Giyuu nods, tension uncoiling from his shoulders. They quickly undress, though their hands never leave each other when they peel the clothing off. 

Sanemi leans in to kiss Giyuu again. Giyuu slips Sanemi’s yukata off his back, roving fingers gliding down firm planes of skin, exposing them to the tranquil night air. 

“Do you want me on my knees or lying down?” He murmurs against Sanemi’s mouth between kisses.

Both paint an alluring picture, and between several passing draws of Giyuu’s lips Sanemi eventually settles on one. “We can try being on your knees first.”

Giyuu pulls away and turns until his back faces towards Sanemi. Then, he dips forward so that he is on his elbow, shoulders a whisper’s distance above the mattress.

“Is this alright?”

It is more than alright. Sanemi stares at Giyuu's inviting form, awestruck. It is a wonder to behold in itself.

With an almost desperate haste, Sanemi opens the pot and dips his finger into the oil. There is a mild fragrance to it. He looks at Giyuu’s hole, twitching in anticipation.

Instead of putting his finger there like he intended, he lowers his head and runs a hot tongue against it.

Giyuu gasps, sharp and startled. “Sanemi…?!”

He attempts to push himself up, but Sanemi wraps his oiled fingers around Giyuu's cock and tugs . Giyuu collapses back onto the futon with a fractured moan.

Sanemi presses lazy kisses against his hole until a choked litany of cries tumble out of Giyuu. Giyuu is captivating, and Sanemi cannot help but moan into his opening. The vibration sends sparks up Giyuu's spine. He begins to tremble under his unrelenting touch, both front and behind.

Then, and only then, does Sanemi bless him with some reprieve. He releases Giyuu's hole from his mouth to replace it with his fingers. He nudges one against the entrance. Feeling the rough pad nudge against the pucker, feeling it catch at the rim. Testing boundaries and restraints both.

Giyuu inches back, hips swaying a hypnotizing curve as his back dips in a broader arch. An answering demand, a provocation aiming to snap the fraying threads of his self-control.

Sanemi loses the strength to deny him any longer. He stirs his fingers in oil again. With a steadying breath, he slowly pushes one digit inside.

It slips in smoothly, aided by his ministrations just prior. Sanemi reaches into a place no one has ever been but him. He watches Giyuu’s expression unfurl like a flower in its first bloom. His eyes snap open and mouth slacks, unguarded.

Suddenly, Sanemi is very, very grateful towards Tengen.

Giyuu is squeezing tight around him. It is hard to move. Sanemi rubs soothing circles on his hip with his thumb to coax him into unwinding.

“Relax, Giyuu. I can barely move my finger.”

“I am trying.” Giyuu takes a deep breath to center himself. Sanemi, with his other hand, reaches around Giyuu and starts pumping him.

Giyuu clenches even tighter around Sanemi before slowly relaxing. A subtle concession. Sanemi inches his finger deeper. 

“How does it feel now?” He asks when he adds another finger.

“Better.” He pants lightly as he pulls Sanemi down for a kiss.

Sanemi tries to keep up with Giyuu’s hungry mouth as he continues to open Giyuu up enough to push a third finger in. The hand on Giyuu’s cock slides up his abdomen until it reaches his nipples, where he gives a curious squeeze.

Giyuu nips at Sanemi’s lower lip in retaliation. Burying his fingers into Sanemi’s hair, he gives a sharp tug. Sanemi moans into Giyuu’s mouth, helpless to his demands. 

“I would not have expected you to like being bossed around.” Giyuu murmurs, but not mockingly. 

Sanemi huffs and adds a fourth finger to shut him up. Giyuu chokes on his moan and bites down a cry.

“Could say the same for you.” He readjusts his hand to find a more comfortable angle and pushes back in.

Sanem knows when he hits a sensitive spot. A moan, filthy and noisy, spills out of Giyuu. The wicked sound burns Sanemi’s ears. Giyuu’s thighs snap together but Sanemi pushes them apart again. Keeping his unoccupied hand firmly on Giyuu’s thigh, he squeezes around smooth, supple flesh.

“Good?”

Giyuu nods feverishly, barely holding back a sob as he thrusts unabashedly against his fingers. Sanemi aims for the spot again, heat pooling in his groin as he reduces Giyuu into a whimpering mess with just his fingers.

“Sanemi, please —”

“Please what?”

“Inside, want you inside—”

Sanemi bites back a grin. “I’m already inside you. You’ll have to be more specific, Giyuu.”

Giyuu thrashes in mounting frustration, and Sanemi almost feels bad if it doesn’t please a primal part of him to witness him writhing in salacious agony.

Pushing himself up with his hand, Giyuu throws over his shoulder a glare so bright and so brilliant Sanemi feels his knees buckle.

“Shinazugawa Sanemi, I want your cock inside me now .”

Sanemi’s breath catches. Gods above, he wants to devour Giyuu.

Without wasting a second longer, he pulls his fingers out. Giyuu moans softly at the sudden loss but makes no complaint. 

“How do you want me?” Sanemi asks.

“Any way, every way.”

Sanemi pinches his thigh. Giyuu laughs airily.

“Alright, alright.” Giyuu sits up and climbs over until he is sitting on Sanemi's lap. An echo of how their bodies tangled up in each other’s embrace during their first night together.

“How about this?”

It's good. It’s better than good.

Sanemi fumbles for the pot of oil again. He covers his cock with it, letting out stuttered moans as his slicked fingers rub against himself. Giyuu’s gaze roams over him, taking in the ambrosial sight like a man starved.

Lips caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed a lily-pink, eyes gleamed a misty lilac, leaking cock squeezed around frenzied fingers— Sanemi is a painting enchanted, brought to life.

Giyuu guides himself up until his hole is right above Sanemi’s cock. The tip nudges at the entrance, teasing at what is to come. Sanemi swallows, fingers twitching around Giyuu’s hip, and Giyuu hungrily traces the bob in Sanemi’s throat.

They lock eyes for an anticipatory moment. And then Giyuu sinks down.

Giyuu is hot, hot, hot . Sanemi squeezes his eyes shut as an overwhelming sensation washes over him, white-hot and scorching.

Giyuu’s jaw slackens as a moan tumbles out in one quick breath.

“You okay?” Sanemi’s question rushes out in a breathless whisper.

Giyuu’s lips twist in effort. “Yes. Just that you’re—bigger than I anticipated.”

Sanemi jerks in surprise, nudging himself further into Giyuu. An unintentional movement, catching them both by surprise. Giyuu clenches around him with a startled gasp, and Sanemi hisses at the sudden pressure.

“Don’t just—say that, fuck.” Giyuu is doing unspeakable things to his ego and his imagination (Giyuu’s hole stretched to its limits, Giyuu crying, sobbing for mercy—). 

Oblivious and lascivious, a lethal combination endangering the eroding soundness of Sanemi’s mind.

“Sorry.” Giyuu murmurs, confused at Sanemi’s outburst but feels the need to soothe away his discomfort. Which is not Sanemi’s intention, so he leans up to press a soft kiss on his temple, tender and apologetic.

“No need for that. You feel good, Giyuu. Can you keep going?”

Giyuu nods. “Yes.”

With that, Giyuu sinks further down. The pace is torturously slow but Sanemi dares not move in fear of hurting Giyuu. He pumps Giyuu’s cock to satiate the burning heat under his skin. Giyuu in return wraps his arm around Sanemi’s shoulders, sighing softly.

Soon, Sanemi is fully sheathed inside of Giyuu, hips pressed into a searing line of heat.

Giyuu pants, trying to accustom himself with the size of Sanemi, his body unfamiliar with the foreign girth.

Sanemi tucks runaway strands behind Giyuu’s ear. “You okay?”

He nods after a while, breathing through his mouth. “...Just needed a moment.”

Sanemi hums, leaning in to kiss him. Giyuu draws him closer, eyes slipping shut.

With his hands resting on either side of Giyuu’s hips, Sanemi kneads the yielding flesh, a cajoling encouragement.

Spurred on by impatience, Giyuu lifts back up until the tip catches at the rim.

Then he collapses back down, enveloping Sanemi once again in an addictive heat. Sanemi gasps, breath knocked out of him. 

Giyuu is faring no better, having sunk so deep that he feels Sanemi carving a space for himself inside of him.

He drags himself up, up, up. And drops down on Sanemi’s lap. Rocking against Sanemi, he settles into a steady cadence. The push and pull of ocean waves, drowning them both with each passing second.

But soon Giyuu succumbs to his desperation, chasing his pleasure with a quickened rhythm. A rising storm brews within him.

When Giyuu’s thighs begin to shake, Sanemi leans forward and into him, using the momentum to roll the other onto his back.

A startled breath rushes out of Giyuu. Eyes wide and chest tight, he clings onto Sanemi with an arm around his shoulders.

“I got you.” Sanemi murmurs, adjusting until his knees find purchase against the futon.

He remains inside of Giyuu, the shifting nudges his cock into corners Giyuu has never imagined being touched. Giyuu bites his lip so hard Sanemi cannot help but lean down and coax his mouth open again.

Sanemi slowly finds his own rhythm, a heavy staccato of skin against skin. 

A whimper slips out of Giyuu when Sanemi thrusts into his sensitive spot. His face twists with such sweet agony the sight alone sets Sanemi alight. He grinds deeper into Giyuu with a mean smirk, hard cock impaling him.

“S-Sanemi…!” Giyuu cries out. Begs helplessly — for mercy, for more, he himself doesn’t even know at this point. His head spins with the smell of sex and Sanemi, with the obscene sounds of Sanemi shoving in and out of him, with the grunts and sighs pouring out of Sanemi’s kiss-red mouth.

“Giyuu, fuck —” Sanemi hisses as Giyuu clench around him and run blunt nails down his back. It stings, he feels so out of breath, and it feels so fucking good.

He rolls his hips, not giving Giyuu a moment to catch his breath. Giyuu likewise does not spare him any mercy. He sucks him in, unable to bear having Sanemi outside of him for even a second more.

Sanemi sinks deep into Giyuu, burying himself deeper than he has ever been. It rips a cry out of Giyuu, salacious and shrill. Sanemi craves to hear it again.

Pinning Giyuu onto the mattress, caging his wrist with firm fingers, he thrusts into him with relentless fervor. Driving into Giyuu like he is the sole answer to his carnal salvation.

Giyuu throws his head back with a helpless keen, giving Sanemi an opening to lower his mouth onto his neck and mark a long trail of bruises along his skin. 

Sanemi switches his pace. Pushing Giyuu’s legs closer to his shoulders, he bends him further into himself. He spears him open, going slower but no less deeper. Giyuu feels every inch of him dragging against his walls in stark blinding detail.

It is so much, it is too much, and yet Giyuu wants more, more, more .

He leans up to catch Sanemi’s mouth in another all-consuming kiss. Sanemi moans into it, sliding his fingers from Giyuu’s wrist to intertwine their fingers together. 

“Giyuu…”

“Yes?” Giyuu pants.

“I’m—” He groans when Giyuu squeezes around him just as he pushes himself all the way in.

“Close?” 

Sanemi grunts in assent.

“Stay inside,” Giyuu gasps, “I want to feel you—inside.”

Sanemi’s vision whites out at the confession. He comes with Giyuu’s name rolling off his tongue, watching Giyuu’s expression unravel at the feeling of being filled up so fully, so completely.

Giyuu rolls his hips, rubbing himself against Sanemi’s stomach to chase his own release, eyes never leaving Sanemi’s face. With the hand that is not holding Giyuu’s, Sanemi reaches down to wrap around Giyuu, leaning down to devour his wanting mouth as Giyuu spills into his hand.

Slowly, gradually they descend from their high. Sanemi drags lazy kisses across Giyuu's face, fingers rubbing circles into his palm, waist and legs. Giyuu lets out an appreciative hum as he slips his hand out of Sanemi’s grasp to run his fingers through Sanemi's hair, down to his neck and mapping further along his shoulder.

Their lips find each other again, drawn out and savoring.

They clean up before their spend dries. Giyuu bites back a laugh as Sanemi brushes against a ticklish spot. Which only serves as encouragement for Sanemi to attack it with renewed vigor. 

Still, exhaustion quickly creeps up on them and they pull each other into an embrace and succumb into a long-awaited slumber.

Chapter Text

It is a beautiful morning today. The sky is a clear blue and the wind is cool on their faces. A lovely weather for their planned visit.

Sanemi and Giyuu walk down the carved gravestones, solemn footsteps against the pathway. On each monument etched the names of warriors who have laid out stones of their bravery and sacrifice that paved the way to their hard-fought victory.

Eventually, they stop at the ones with familiar names carved onto them — the six Hashira who fought alongside them. They lay down the flowers they have brought on each of their gravestones and offer their prayers.

“Rest easy, everyone. Hope your next lives will all be peaceful ones.” Sanemi says, sweeping his gaze across every one of them.

He remembers them like it was yesterday, from their sparring sessions to the occasional meals. The weather that day, when they all gathered to determine the fates of Tanjirou and Nezuko, was almost alike. Bright sun as unyielding as the siblings’ resolve. Celeste sky as vast as the uncovered possibilities discovered on that fateful occasion.

Coming here brought back a flood of memories of his allies, some he had even grown to call his friends.

Next to him, Giyuu takes a long somber look at each gravestone. His chest aches with the mournful regret of not knowing them better before they had passed. During the Hashira training, he crossed swords with most of them as part of their own practice. It turned out to be a crucial routine, the intrinsic muscle memory of weaving effortlessly past one another contributed to a nearly flawless teamwork against Muzan.

Still, there was little time to spare getting to know them during such high stakes and intensity. Too little, too late.

He echoes Sanemi’s sentiments. In the next life perhaps, in a new era of peace, they will be friends.

“I apologize for causing any trouble,” Giyuu inclines his head, “I doubted myself and my place as a Hashira. I wonder if things would have been better—if we would have gotten closer, had I come to my realization sooner. Thank you for fighting till the very end. You can all rest now.”

He feels Sanemi nudge his shoulder against his, a silent comfort.

They stay there in quiet remembrance for a while more before moving on. They place flowers along each gravestone they pass before they stop at a particular one. Sanemi slows his pace to a complete halt, gazing upon the gravestone with heavy stillness. 

On it carves the name of Shinazugawa Genya.

Like the others, they offer their flowers and prayers, though Sanemi’s fingers linger when he lays down the flowers.

“Hey. It's been a while.” He finally says, letting out a low sigh.

In the surrounding trees, a bird sings a lamenting song.

“I brought someone. You probably know him as the former Water Hashira, but he's here as a friend.”

Giyuu looks at the gravestone. “Hello, Genya. We do not know each other, but I have heard much about you from Sanemi.”

“All good things, I promise.”

He smiles in soft fondness. “Only good things. Sanemi cares very deeply for you. You have a wonderful older brother.”

Face twisting into a grimace, Sanemi crosses his arms in half-hearted exasperation. “Why are you embarrassing me in front of him? As if you haven’t already done that enough with living people.”

A light chuckle tumbles out of Giyuu. “Alright. Do you want me to leave you be?”

Sanemi nods, solemnly grateful.

Giyuu’s hand wanders to Sanemi’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he walks away. 

As Sanemi kneels before the grave, his chest sinks with another deep sigh. Eyes sweeping across the carvings of his brother’s name, he finds himself cracking a wry smile.

“Sorry it took so long for me to visit. Needed some time to sort out my head.”

Staring at the stone surface, Sanemi finds he is at a loss on where to start. His thoughts stir in a melting pot, too many things he yearns to say yet every one of it slips through his fingers when he dips inside. But he thinks of Genya, of what he’d want to hear after so long. So he starts by talking about his day, the things that happened the past few weeks, the past few months. 

He talks about Giyuu. About how Giyuu had barged into his life with the bull-headed intention of befriending him and somehow carved an irrevocable place for himself in Sanemi’s world.

He talks about Genya himself. He tells him the hidden truth, buried underneath all his cutting edges and blazing furors—that all he wanted was his little brother to be safe.

“I know I’m not the best brother out there, and I wasn’t able to be there for you the past few years. I didn’t know you worked so hard, even wanted to become a Hashira, just to talk to me. I’m sorry. For all I’ve done and said. Thank you for still giving a damn about me all this while, up till the very end.”

Sanemi peers up and spots Giyuu in the distance, head craned to observe the birds perched on the branches above him. His kimono stands out stark and bright in his field of vision, a flutter of sky-blue amongst foliage greens and gravestone grays.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I have much to live for now. And I’ve got someone looking out for me. I’ll tell you more about him when we meet again.”

Reaching out to brush his hand across the gravestone, his fingers glide across his brother’s name. Gingerly, cherishingly, like something precious.

“Thank you, Genya. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother.”

Giyuu wanders back when he sees Sanemi stand up. Giyuu returns to his side, casting a contemplative glance at Genya’s grave. 

Sanemi is about to walk away when Giyuu says, “Can I speak to him?”

Sanemi had not expected such an ask, but his chest warms at his request. “Sure.”

Giyuu stares at the monument, mulling over his next words.

“Thank you for having him in your heart, for protecting him till the end. You are a remarkable brother, Sanemi misses you a lot. He promised to eat a lot of watermelon so he can give you your share when you meet again.”

Next to him, Sanemi snorts.

“Wherever you are, I hope you are at peace. I will do my best to care for Sanemi.”

Something hitches in Sanemi’s throat, and his chest burns fiercely with Giyuu’s words. 

They stay there for a while more until Sanemi eventually tempers the welled-up emotions enough to speak again.

“C’mon. We still have to pay our respects to many others.”

Giyuu hums in acknowledgement. “Next time, we can visit my sister.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I have not gone back ever since running away all those years ago.”

Sanemi startles. “All this time?”

Giyuu’s face falls. “I dared not return, for fear of being recognized. To them, I was the unfortunate boy who went mad with grief for losing his sister.

“But now,” he turns to face Sanemi fully, “I am not afraid. Not anymore. I want to pay my respects, I owe her that much at least. I want you to be there with me.”

The wind catches at Giyuu’s hair as it passes.

A warm smile grows on Sanemi’s face. “Alright. We will go.”

They walk on. The flowers before Genya’s gravestone sway in the passing breeze.

One day Sanemi asks Giyuu if they should start sharing a room on a more permanent basis. 

Up till now they have their separate rooms, though they usually spend the night together in either one. Still, many of their belongings remain in their respective rooms, such as Giyuu’s old haori.

Sanemi suggests taking his room purely from a logical standpoint. As the former Wind Hashira and therefore previously sole master of the estate, he resides in the largest space. It can comfortably accommodate one more person. Between both their rooms, it is more sensible to move to his.

He also says as much. So he does not comprehend the reluctant twist of Giyuu’s lips when he brings it up.

“Must we?” Comes Giyuu’s detached reply, and Sanemi cannot help but feel a sting of hurt.

“Do you not want to?” He searches Giyuu’s face in a troubled attempt to puzzle him out.

Giyuu looks away, expression shuttering. Sanemi tries to bridge the gap, to close the emerging cracks in this exchange with probing outreach.

“Giyuu, I want to know what’s on your mind.”

“I know,” Giyuu inclines his head as acknowledgement, “I am thinking how I want to say it.”

The silence stretches, taut and tense. Sanemi waits with slight agitation. Giyuu senses his unease and reaches for his hand. Reassuring, apologetic. 

It contrasts the look of frustration darkening Giyuu’s features. Upset, perhaps, at his ability to translate his thoughts into speech. Like words trapped in a pen.

“I do want to share a room with you. But my room—the room you offered me—it is important too.”

“Why?”

The line of Giyuu’s mouth is pressed thin, but his eyes shine bright. “Because you gave it to me. This—is home now. Here, with you, because of it.”

Sanemi exhales. Half in frustration, half in relief—a bizarre combination, one he has grown accustomed to in the presence of Giyuu. 

He thinks he understands now. Holding Giyuu’s hand with both of his, he gazes intently into Giyuu’s eyes. “Then I am now offering my room to you. Stay with me, be my home.”

Giyuu’s breath catches. The stiff line along his shoulder slackens, bottled up tension uncorked.

“Okay.”

Sanemi breaks into a smile, one which Giyuu returns with matching warmth.

And so now every morning when Giyuu rouses, he is blessed with the sight of Sanemi. 

Usually Sanemi is the first to wake, but on occasion Giyuu rises first. When he does, he indulges in his private privilege of admiring Sanemi. 

The first thing that calls for his notice changes every time. In the serene lull of this morning, it is his lashes. Sharp dark brushstrokes at the corner of his eyes, inviting one’s attention to inky swirls of purple if his eyes were open. 

Giyuu’s eyes dwell on him long enough to pick up the beginning signs of stirring. The deepened draw of a breath swelling his chest, the minute twitch in the corner of his mouth.

In the initial mornings during their travel, Sanemi’s eyes were swift to sharpen into focus. In the days of a darker time, a split of a second from a let-down guard could tip the scale from survival to unwitting death.

But now, coddled by the warmth of someone he shares his life—his home with, swathed by the lax of peace, Sanemi takes the time to savor the seams between repose and consciousness.

Giyuu feels Sanemi’s hand dragging across the futon, searching across the sea of cotton for its anchor in the shape of his own hand.

“M’rning.” Sanemi murmurs, voice sandy with slumber and eyes still shut.

Giyuu stares at him, half-awake and sweetened with ataraxia, and he yearns.

“Sanemi.”

A low hum slips out of Sanemi in instinctual response, mildly questioning.

Giyuu shakes his head, though Sanemi cannot see the motion.

Still, he reckons Sanemi understands. With his unoccupied hand, Sanemi reaches around Giyuu’s waist and reels him in closer, rolling Giyuu on top of him.

Finally, his eyes peel open, like lilacs at first bloom.

A fond smile plays on Giyuu’s lips as he stares down at Sanemi. His hand palms over Sanemi’s chest, fingertips idly mapping the scars—no, proof of their survival, that they are alive and here.

Sanemi pulls Giyuu’s head down, a soundless beckon. He leans in, pressing his face into the crook of Giyuu's neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of fresh cotton and something unmistakably Giyuu.

“Again.”

Giyuu laughs softly. Sanemi feels it reverberate through his chest.

“Sanemi.” He repeats himself, indulging in Sanemi once more, saying his name like it is the only word he knows, like it is the only word he wants to know.

With his mouth Sanemi draws a languorous line from Giyuu’s neck to his jaw, a well-trekked path on the map of his body. He lets out a low exhale, smirking lazily at the shiver skating across the man laid out on top of him.

“Again.” Sanemi says into his ear. Quietly, invitingly. The fingers splayed across his chest twitch and curl.

He finds satisfaction when it takes a moment for Giyuu to collect himself before he does as he is told.

“...Sanemi.”

In response he tilts his head back, brushing his lips against Giyuu’s. Lightly, barely a whisper of a touch, like the beat of a firefly’s wings. He feels Giyuu's bottom lip quiver in anticipation.

“Again.” The word rushes out in an exhale, a hush of longing.

“Sanemi.” Comes the response. Softly, gently, like a prayer.

Sanemi answers it.

Basking under the soft morning glow, they hold each other close and revel in each other's warmth. Sanemi curls one arm around Giyuu’s lower back as his other hand wanders upwards, fingers mapping out familiar contours along his back.

Giyuu arches into his touch, sinking his hand into sleep-mussed hair. The wish to stay like this forever resonates inside him.

And yet, in this cocoon of bliss, he selfishly wonders if there can be more. If there can be moments and memories of something more they can create with each other.

“Sanemi.” He says when they eventually pull apart.

Sanemi looks up at him, languid eyes half-lidded.

“We should do something.”

He blinks slowly, still blanketed in an enamored daze. “Like what?”

“Something new, something we can do for a while. I haven’t given it much thought yet.”

“Like a hobby?”

“Possibly. We could even find work.” 

Sanemi smiles wryly. “We’re retired, Giyuu. You know what that means right?”

He understands what Giyuu is getting at, nonetheless.

Giyuu coils a lock of Sanemi’s hair in his finger, ivory threads around a purposeful needle. “Yes, but we could do something that we enjoy. Perhaps we can open a restaurant, you are good at cooking.”

“That’s a no. I don’t like dealing with customers.” 

Turning away with a huff, Sanemi’s next words topple out in an abashed mumble. “And I don’t just cook for anyone.”

Giyuu blinks. Then a smile gradually spreads across his face. “Sanemi is very good to me.”

Sanemi sputters, arms twitching around Giyuu. “Stop that. You’re so shameless.”

“I am merely speaking my mind. That is what you told me to do.”

Sanemi pinches his waist, indignant. “And I am starting to regret that.”

Giyuu knows he does not mean it, and chuckles. Lowering his head, he rests it on Sanemi’s chest. He seeks out the sound of his heartbeat, steady and safe.

“We can ask the others for ideas.”

“I dread to find out what they will come up with. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

Tanjirou and Nezuko’s letter arrives first.

Kanzaburo collides into Giyuu when they are out on a stroll. The letter nearly rips from the impact.

Both siblings express excitement at the idea. Tanjirou suggests they grow a farm. They can plant things they like to eat and enjoy the literal fruits of their own labor.

Tanjirou knows about their short stay with Yoshida from Giyuu’s letter. He thought it seems like a suitable life for them. An idyllic lifestyle, different from the intensity of their former roles, would be a good way to switch pace and enjoy life as they deserve. 

Nezuko suggests they put their efforts into charitable causes. They have time now, it would be meaningful to help those in need. She emphasizes that Sanemi and Giyuu are very kind people, that they are good-hearted people who always look out for others in their own way. Charity feels like a natural pivot.

“What do you think?” Giyuu asks Sanemi.

Sanemi shrugs. “They’re not bad. If we decide on having a farm we could ask Yoshida-san for advice. Charity is a good way to make use of our time too.”

Giyuu concedes with a nod. “We can continue gathering what the others have suggested, and any other ideas we can think of. Then we pick the ones we like most.”

Kanzaburo worked very hard to deliver Giyuu’s letter to Tanjirou and carry his response back to him. So when they head back to the estate Giyuu goes to boil an egg to feed his crow as a treat, intending to show his gratitude.

He is sitting on the engawa peeling the cooked egg when Sanemi strolls by, footsteps soft against polished wood.

“Kanzaburo.” Giyuu calls out for his crow.

Sanemi sits down next to him. Giyuu looks up.

“You are not Kanzaburo.” Giyuu says flatly.

“And you are not blind.” Sanemi hurls back dryly.

“I wanted to give Kanzaburo a treat.”

A feeble squawk cuts through the air. Kanzaburo flaps its wings with croaking exertion and tumbles onto Giyuu’s lap, narrowly avoiding crashing into the bowl of egg.

Sanemi watches Giyuu reshuffle his crow until it is huddled snugly on his lap. Then, pinching pieces off the egg he feeds it with gentle patience.

“Maybe we can get a pet.”

Giyuu tilts his head to indicate he is listening.

Sanemi observes him closely. “We could get a dog.”

Instantly, Giyuu looks like he has bitten into something sour.

“No.”

“It went fine the last time. The dog didn’t bite you.”

“Because you were there, and it left soon after. What about a cat?”

Sanemi rests his chin on his palm. “I’m not much of a cat person.”

“Fish, then?”

“There's not much to do besides feeding them. What about chickens? We can get eggs from hens.”

Giyuu furrows his brows. “Potentially. But I worry it will be messy to care for them.”

Sanemi leans back with a sigh. “So pets are a no, then?”

“Unless we can agree on one.”

“Alright.” Sanemi watches Giyuu nudge the last bit of egg between Kanzaburo's beak. “Guess it's just this old geezer for now, huh?”

Giyuu’s lips tug up into an amused smile. “Sanemi, you must respect your elders.”

“And tuck him into bed while I'm at it, yeah?”

“That could be beneficial. He may start seeing you as a caretaker and not mistake your hair as a nest anymore.”

“He better, or else I am going to mistake him as chicken meat and put him in a pot.”

“Have mercy, his eyes are not what they used to be.” Brushing a thumb across thinning feathers, Giyuu then looks up in thought. “What about a rhinoceros beetle?”

Delight swirls in Sanemi, strangely pleased at the realization that Giyuu remembers his longtime hobby, and remembers it enough to suggest it.

“We could do that. But they’re easy to care for, so if we decide to raise them we should pick other things too.”

Giyuu hums non-commitally. “We still have time to consider. We should be expecting some more responses soon.”

Tengen’s reply arrives soon after. 

With bright bold words, he advocates starting a hot spring business. He claims that Sanemi and Giyuu can reap the rewards of their own efforts by soaking in the hot spring after a day's work.

But if they are not keen on the idea, they can always follow in his footsteps and have children.

Before Giyuu even puts down the letter, Sanemi has already turned to him in aggravated disbelief.

“What,” he says slowly, “the fuck?”

“They are ambitious ideas.” Giyuu offers.

“More like batshit ridiculous.”

“He is high-strung on his excitement at becoming a father. It is understandable.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. Giyuu runs over Tengen’s words in his mind again.

“Perhaps he wants a playmate for his child. Someone of a similar age who can be their friend.”

“So his ideas benefit himself more than us. Hot springs, really? He's not even hiding his intentions.”

“It is not a bad idea though.” Giyuu reasons. “I have not been to a hot spring with you.”

Sanemi quietens. Then, with an intrigued tilt of his head he peers at Giyuu.

“...You want to go to a hot spring with me?”

Giyuu nods. “We can go one of these days.”

Sanemi’s gaze dips, lingering on Giyuu’s exposed collarbone peeking out behind the folds of his yukata. He imagines Giyuu in a hot spring, steam rising up to color his cheeks a flushed pink and curling around him like a misty veil. 

“I'd like that.” He murmurs.

Giyuu does not notice the subtle shift in his attention. “Do you prefer indoors or outdoors?”

“Anything is fine.” He throws out a distracted reply.

Giyuu nods, lost in his own thoughts. “Outdoors would be preferable. The view is usually better.”

As much as Sanemi is certain the view would be outstanding, he doubts it would out-rival the sight of Giyuu soaked and blissed out in the natural spring water.

Giyuu snaps his head towards him, eyes widening with surprise.

Ah.

On instinct Sanemi wants to defend himself for speaking his mind, unintentionally or not, but quickly sees no reason to. It is the truth, and he has no need to hide his affection from someone who returns his feelings.

So he chooses to remain silent this time, and in the face of his calm refusal Giyuu struggles to fight back the growing heat of his face. Sanemi relishes the sight of apple-red ripening on the curve of his cheeks.

“Since you are that eager, we can go in two days.” Giyuu eventually mumbles, tucking his chin in abashment.

They put aside Tengen’s ideas in the end. As appealing as running a hot spring business sounds, it does not seem like a right fit for either of them. They also dismiss Tengen’s other idea as excited ramblings of a jubilant father-to-be.

Giyuu leads Tengen’s crow to the birdhouse where Kanzaburo and Sorai rest in. Sorai puffs its chest and caws irritatedly upon being disturbed by a less-acquainted presence. Giyuu attempts to placate it with gentle pats and treats, faintly finding humor in the resemblance between it and its master. 

Kanzaburo starts to croak at the noise, so Giyuu picks it up and takes it out of the birdhouse, tucking it into the bend of his elbow. He looks down at his crow nestling in his grasp, slipping into a quiet slumber. It is not unlike cradling a child to sleep.

He watches over it until Tengen’s crow leaves with a sharp snap of its wings. Gently, he then places his senescent youngling back into the birdhouse.

Giyuu observes Sanemi preparing an entire salmon when another thought pops into his mind.

“Do you think we would be good fishermen?”

Sanemi hums idly as he cuts into the fish. “Hard to say. I don't really fish, but I can probably pick it up without too much problem.”

Giyuu tracks the rhythmic motions of Sanemi’s hands with keen eyes. The knife in his practiced hand glides with little hesitation. 

“What if we live near the sea?”

Pausing his task at hand, Sanemi looks up at him. “We could. I heard it's more peaceful than the city. Seafood's fresher too.”

Giyuu visibly brightens. Sanemi shoots him down with a disapproving look.

“No, we cannot eat salmon daikon every day.”

“I said nothing.”

Sanemi throws him a knowing glance. “But your eyes said everything. You're going to hurt your body eating the same thing every day.”

Giyuu huffs, almost petulantly.

“Aside from that, I'm open to the idea.” Sanemi continues. “But you are fine with leaving this place?”

Giyuu considers it. With the big fuss he himself had made over a single room, he understands why Sanemi seems hesitant at the thought of leaving the estate entirely.

“I don't think I can give up this place entirely, but we can always find a new home there.”

Sanemi shrugs. “We don't have to make the decision now. We still have other options to consider.”

“Like the hot spring?”

“Everything except the hot spring, and any other stupid ideas from Uzui.”

Giyuu smiles. He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Sanemi from behind as he leans his head on Sanemi’s shoulder.

“Not all his ideas are stupid.”

He hears a disbelieving scoff. “Name one.”

Lifting his head, Giyuu presses a kiss against the back of Sanemi’s neck.

“The oil.” He murmurs quietly against his skin.

Sanemi stiffens. “...Fine.”

Giyuu enjoys seeing Sanemi fluster. So he nuzzles into the dip at the back of his jaw. “It is not empty yet. I think there is enough for one more use.”

“Don't say shit like that when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Okay.” Giyuu lets go, but he does not drop the amused smile on his face. 

Despite all his complaints earlier, Sanemi makes salmon daikon for dinner. Giyuu makes sure to show his gratitude thoroughly that night.

They end up finishing the gifted pot of oil.

The letter from Urokodaki is the third to be delivered. It is the final one they are expecting, they have not written to anyone else so far.

They are out and about in a nearby town when they receive it, and pull themselves to one side to read his response.

Urokodaki thinks applying for university is worth considering. Neither Sanemi nor Giyuu had a chance at formal education, having dedicated most of their lives to hunting demons.

Sanemi crosses his arms. “I don't know if I want to sit inside the same four walls the entire day. Besides, I can't write.”

“I can teach you.” In fact, Giyuu has been showing him how to write their names and those of everyone they know.

Sanemi waves his hand, dismissive. “I've never been the studious sort. I prefer learning things hands-on, not from words on a page.”

He then regards Giyuu curiously. “Unless you want to?”

Giyuu considers it. “I would not know where to start. There isn’t a discipline I am particularly interested in.”

There is value in what a university offers to imbue and teach. But Giyuu thinks of numerous ohagi he made, of the letters from Tanjirou and Urokodaki, the neri yokan from Suma, and the warm smiles from the people they have come across, and knows that the value and knowledge he seeks cannot be found there. 

Regardless, he appreciates what Urokodaki implies to be his wish for him — to live like a normal civilian, to build himself the future of a promising young man he ought to have been.

Sanemi observes him quietly, perceiving the internal debate behind his eyes.

“There are other ways to learn.” Sanemi shrugs with casual finality.

And there are other ways to live. Still, it is an interesting thought. He wonders what kind of student he would have been in a university.

“Do you think we would get along if we were in the same university?”

Sanemi smirks at the thought. “I wouldn’t even have been able to afford university, with my family background. But if by some miracle I end up there, I probably would have thought you were some stuck-up spoiled son from a wealthy family, and hated your attitude.”

Giyuu smiles. “And I would probably try every way to befriend you.”

“You need to get yourself better standards, Giyuu.”

“I like my standards just fine. I am in good care now, am I not?”

“You—” Sanemi bristles, raising his hand to flick at Giyuu’s hair. “You’re insufferable.”

Giyuu laughs and hooks his arm around Sanemi’s, tugging him into a sweets shop to appease him.

“Sanemi, what do you think of painting?”

Sanemi narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Learn to paint. As our next thing to do.”

Seconds pass as Sanemi stares blankly at him. 

“...and why are you thinking about that when we are having sex?”

Giyuu blinks. He looks at Sanemi, who is looking up at him in utmost exasperation. His legs are hooked loosely over Giyuu’s shoulders, hips propped up against the incline of Giyuu’s kneeled legs.

He had been admiring Sanemi with the revelation that there are few sights more mesmerizing than the one of Sanemi spread out before him. His fascination is inspiring an amateur aspiring artist out of him, leading him to wonder if he could try his hand at learning an art form.

“There is a connection between them.”

“In that head of yours, probably.”

“So that is a no?”

Sanemi glowers at him. “Of course that’s a no! I’m hardly creative. And I have seen the way you arrange the food at dinner. It looks like the insides of your senile crow's brain.”

“Unique?”

“Scrambled. An absolute mess.”

“Memorable, then.”

Sanemi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sure, whatever. I do not share your passion in pursuing the arts, though.”

Giyuu nods in acknowledgement. Now that the discussion is out of the way, he returns his attention to Sanemi, to his task at hand. He takes in the sight of him.

With growing impatience Sanemi taps the side of Giyuu’s head with his knee. “What are you still staring at me for?”

“I want to take my time.”

“And I want you inside me now.”

Giyuu huffs in fond amusement.

“Hypocrite.” He refers to the way Sanemi had teased him during their first time, drawing out his sweet torture until Giyuu cracked, a taut rope snapping under the cursed forces of his own pleasure.

Sanemi scowls in stubborn denial. “That was nothing. I didn’t mess around too long, and I listened to you soon after.”

Giyuu nudges the pad of his thumb on Sanemi’s pucker, rubbing taunting circles against it. Sanemi’s gasp twists into a cut-off whine.

“It is unwise to disagree right now.” Giyuu says flatly, though his eyes glint with fiery anticipation.

“Fuck you.” Sanemi hisses.

Giyuu merely smiles. “Another time, perhaps.”

From where he kneels, Giyuu sees everything. 

The quickened flutter of Sanemi’s chest, the tension coiling and uncoiling in his abdomen, the hazy gleam in his eyes. Giyuu pockets every detail to memory.

Giyuu kneels before him like in a prayer, and Sanemi is laid out before him, awaiting worship.

The warm skin beneath his fingers, the soft moans he coaxes out—they are all familiar to Giyuu by now. But he burns with the same intensity and excitement as the first time. They draw each other in for a moonlit dance, well-learned by now, yet every time they discover something new about each other.

When Sanemi comes, it is a sight that Giyuu will never forget. Back bowed into a hypnotic arch, eyes draped under wet lashes, mouth parted to sing Giyuu’s name in earthly reverence.

Giyuu descends upon him with a searing, desperate kiss as they melt into each other. Sanemi bears all his weight and does not let go when Giyuu spills inside of him. Enveloped in one another’s blissed-out warmth, Giyuu rocks a languid rhythm against Sanemi, drawing out the euphoria as long as he can.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the world, with the moon as their sole, silent companion, there exists no other place more intimate, more alive than being in each other’s embrace right this moment.

Giyuu may not eventually learn to paint, but he does not require an artful hand to savor the sublimity of Sanemi lost in rapture.

Winter is beginning to creep around the corner, nipping at the tips of their noses and fingers. Not enough to snow, but they find themselves reaching for more layers in recent days.

With the approaching winter Sanemi’s next birth date crawls up towards his awareness like a yawning shadow. Soon the number marking his age will turn, a milestone of his survival.

A countdown towards his end.

The thought festers, clinging onto him. A viscid reminder.

Sanemi tries to brush it off, and recalibrates his attention to the person in his arms right now.

Giyuu has currently made a home for himself in Sanemi’s lap. He is settled comfortably in the space between Sanemi's legs, bracketed in a serene cradle.

Sanemi enjoys days such as today, where Giyuu’s eyes are bright and his laughter light. The smiles Giyuu wears grow more natural by the day. His soft mouth curls into a crescent so delicate and so beautiful, sometimes Sanemi feels like he has fallen for him all over again.

And yet, he is seized with an odd fear. The more radiant Giyuu’s smile, the colder his blood runs. 

He has been struck with this unease the past few days. He cannot shake it off, this sudden terrible sense of melancholy.

Wrapping his arms tighter around Giyuu, he urges himself to chase away the sickening sensation, slithering out of its sludge of deprivation. 

Giyuu shifts in his embrace. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He leans back to look at Sanemi properly. “Are you unwell?”

Sanemi shakes his head. Absentmindedly. His thoughts spanning a lifetime away. “No, I don’t think so.”

Giyuu hums. With his fingers, he traces the scars on Sanemi's face. A touch delicate, every movement made with the deliberate caution of someone holding something precious.

Sanemi displays his scars like warnings, flaunts them like war trophies. Giyuu seems to see them differently.

“What is it?” Sanemi murmurs, when Giyuu’s gaze lingers longer than he expected.

Giyuu brushes a thumb over the largest scar across his cheek. “Are you familiar with kintsugi?”

“Somewhat.”

“I have been thinking about it lately.”

“Is that why you got that bowl?” He means the one Giyuu bought several days ago. It is a finely made pottery, streaks of gold stretched across the blue surface like lightning across an evening sky.

“Partially. I was also thinking of you.” Giyuu resumes tracing the scar.

“In kintsugi, broken pottery is mended with gold and not discarded. The cracks are highlighted and accepted as part of the object instead. By embracing its flaws, it is made more beautiful.

“You are kintsugi to me. Your resilience, your strength—they manifest through your scars.”

Stunned into silence, Sanemi stares up at Giyuu, breathless. 

“Giyuu.”

Giyuu's eyes flicker to meet his.

Sanemi returns his gaze, pensive. “Why did you choose me?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“If it weren't just us who survived, would you have sought me out in the first place? Would we have ended up where we are now?”

“I have wanted to grow closer to you, even from before.” Giyuu admits quietly.

Sanemi had not expected such a confession. “Really?”

“You were always angry though, so I did not know how.”

A weak snort escapes him as he shakes his head. “I sure was a wildfire back then, huh?”

Giyuu hooks a finger under his chin and tilts it back to him. “That was back then. Now is now. You have changed. And does it matter? How we have come to know each other?”

“I don't know. Maybe in another life, if one of us had died or if more people had survived, this wouldn't have happened.”

“That is in another life. We are in this one.” Giyuu reaches to cup Sanemi's face with tender insistence.

Sanemi leans into his palm, feeling the warmth spread across his cheek. “You make it sound simple.”

Giyuu regards him for a few thoughtful seconds. “Perhaps that is the only way I can see it. I don't know if there is someone else I would have cared for like this, if things are different. But what I do know is that you are here with me. And that is all that matters.”

Giyuu’s eyes gleam with such incredible sincerity it hurts to look directly into them.

The strange dread returns. It clogs his throat. Sanemi almost chokes on it.

Giyuu must have picked up the turmoil, for his brows draw into a troubled frown.

“Sanemi?”

The threads of Sanemi’s fear unravel and twist and unravel again. He runs his fingers through the tightened lines, beginning to decipher the meaning snagged in between.

“I am afraid, Giyuu.”

Burying his face into Giyuu’s shoulders, he feels them tense with startled concern. Sanemi releases a breath, jagged and shaky.

“This feels like a dream sometimes. Being with you, waking up next to you, being cared for by you. I am afraid at the thought of losing you. If we truly do not live beyond twenty five, you might be the first to leave.”

Voice withering into a brittle whisper, “And that frightens me.”

Not a single word leaves Giyuu, but he rests his hand on the back of Sanemi’s head. A cradle, a caress.

Sanemi’s eyes burn at the gentle comfort. His chest stings with the terrifying possibility that he may not feel it ever again in the near future.

It is a curse, to find someone he treasures and cherishes and be treasured and cherished in return, only for the blessing to be snatched away. He is condemned with a curse, etched into his very soul, to never have enough time to love someone—his mother, his younger siblings, Genya, and now possibly Giyuu.

“You will be gone, and I will still be here. I will be alone again. Everyone I care for, all out of reach—again. I don’t know if I can take it, if you were to go first.”

If Giyuu leaves him first, in his heart will unfurl a void, hollowed out by his absence with an emptiness so wide he will implode. Sucked into mindless nothingness from inside out.

“Is that what has been bothering you?”

Sanemi nods. Giyuu’s heart bleeds.

“I don’t know how to comfort you, and I wish I knew how.”

Giyuu reaches for his hand. He presses their palms together, slowly letting his fingers curl and interlock with Sanemi’s.

To them, loss is no foreign stranger. Giyuu has even worn it for many years. It clung onto his shoulders and hung over his back. The foul umbra of despair, looming over him.

It plagues him less now, though it seems to have found a new prey to torment.

“Do you remember what I told you? About wanting to honor the memories and wills of those we lost?”

Numbly, Sanemi nods.

“If I were to leave first, can you promise that you will carry on my will and the memories of us together? I promise I will do the same, if you leave before me.”

Sanemi wants to promise. But his throat clenches around his words, trapped in anguished limbo.

“Sanemi, can you look at me?”

With grievous reluctance, he hauls his head to meet Giyuu’s searching gaze.

The smile on Giyuu’s face bears a tinge of sadness, but the glimmer in his eyes is one of hope.

“If you were to leave first, I want to be able to carry on the memories of us together, being happy together. Because those bright moments will give me the strength to wake up, to keep walking on. By living on, I will continue to remember you. Even if I am the only one left in this world, the proof of your existence, of your kindness, will live on through me.”

Giyuu leans in to press his forehead against Sanemi’s, a quiet oath.

“So thank you—for being here. For creating happiness with me. For finding meaning in this life with me.”

The cold fearful chokehold around Sanemi melts. Slowly, gradually. The dread retreats back into the nether depths, chased away by the encompassing warmth of Giyuu’s words.

Tugging their intertwined hands towards himself, Sanemi presses a tender kiss on the back of Giyuu’s hand.

“Okay.” He murmurs into it, etching his vow into Giyuu’s body and soul. “I promise.”

Giyuu sighs, in affection, in relief. Sanemi’s gaze drifts from Giyuu’s hand to his mouth. He closes the distance, barely a whisper of space between them.

Giyuu sinks into the kiss, revering. Sanemi commits the feeling to memory.

“Let's do something to create such memories,” Sanemi says when they part. “Something to remember, to give us the strength to keep living. Something we can carry with us, even when we are dust and bones.”

His words tug at pockets of Giyuu’s recent memory.

“We are strong to have come this far, and that strength has protected us all this while,” Nezuko’s voice echoes in his head, soft and resolute— “sometimes that strength also means living on with an earnest and open heart and having the memories of those we have lost enjoy life alongside us.”

Giyuu thinks about Kochou's book he brought back from the Butterfly Mansion, now tucked away in his drawers, making a permanent home for itself when Kanao lets him keep it.

He thinks of the gravestones, marked with the names of the late Hashira, people he had missed the opportunity to forge bonds with.

“Sanemi.”

Sanemi looks at him with eyes half-lidded with affection and content. He will listen to anything Giyuu has to say at this point, even if it is just his own name.

Giyuu returns his gaze with one of resolve. “There is one more person I want to ask.”

-

“Thank you for coming all the way here—Giyuu, Sanemi.”

Kiriya smiles warmly at them.

Giyuu bows from where he kneels. “Thank you for accepting our request upon such short notice. You must be very busy with your current responsibilities.”

“I will always make time for friends. Your visit is a welcome reprieve. I am also glad for the opportunity to speak to you at Tengen’s gathering.”

“The honor is ours, Kiriya-sama.” Seated next to Giyuu, Sanemi returns the courtesy with appreciatory words of his own.

The benign smile on Kiriya’s young face widens. “To what do I owe you the pleasure of this visit?”

Giyuu and Sanemi exchange a purposeful look.

“We would like to request a read of the late Hashira’s wills.”

Kiriya blinks, shoulders lifting in surprise.

Everyone is requested to write a will upon joining the corps, a grim rite of passage. Should anything happen to them, which is a common misfortune that befalls upon many, the Ubuyashiki household will make the required arrangements.

The will is typically at the discretion between the testator and the Ubuyashiki family, rarely meant for the eyes of an outsider.

Kiriya swiftly settles back into a quiet composure, though his eyes glint in subdued curiosity. “May I ask why?” 

Glancing at Giyuu, Sanemi recalls the reason the other man had revealed when he first voiced his idea. At first glance it was an unexpected suggestion, he initially had not discerned the lines Giyuu had connected the dots with. 

But once the dust of surprise clears, Sanemi sees it in stark clarity. To be honest, he ought to have seen it a mile away. Of all people, Giyuu would be the one to come to such a conclusion. 

It is one of the many things that endears him to this man, after all.

Giyuu nods. “Allow me to elaborate. We want to honor and carry on the wills of those who have fought alongside us in our path towards victory and peace. We have been doing so by being appreciative of our new lives, and we want to do more.

“One of my greatest regrets is not knowing the other Hashira when they were still alive. I want to remedy that. I would like to carry the memories of them with me until I breathe my last. Through their wills, I hope to understand who they were and what mattered to them. And if there are unfulfilled wishes, I am keen to carry them out.”

Silence hangs in the air as Kiriya regards him for a long, contemplative moment.

Then, he breaks into a soft smile, sincere and gentle.

“My father told me you were a kind person.”

Giyuu and Sanemi still. They stare at him in equal shock.

Kiriya continues, expecting the astounded responses. “He says you are a man of immense kindness, and emphasizes that I am not to forget it. You were the first to recognize the strength and compassion in Tanjirou and Nezuko, and your loyalty persists in the face of the looming presence of demons and pressure from your peers. He reminded me not to overlook the same kindness that resides in you, and now I am once again reminded of his words.”

Dolor tightens around Giyuu’s chest. He feels the tranquil presence of Ubuyashiki Kagaya as if the man himself is in the room, cocooning him in a calming embrace.

“Very well. I will retrieve the wills of the late Hashira. I will ask for your patience in the meantime.”

Kiriya requests Kuina and Kanata to retrieve the wills. As they wait, Kiriya asks about them. They catch each other up on their recent happenings.

Kiriya also tells them about the arrangements the Ubuyashiki family has been carrying out. Disbanding the corps, arranging funerals for those they have lost, especially those who no longer have loved ones alive to see them off. Helping those still around settle into civilian lives.

Eventually, the two sisters enter the room. They hand the wills to him and settle down behind him, joining their conversation.

“The Ubuyashiki family has fulfilled the distribution of assets as requested in their wills. The names are listed inside,” says Kanata.

Kuina continues from where Kuina has left off, elaborating on her sister’s statement. “Since understanding your former allies is what you intend to do, knowing the people who matter the most to them is a good start.”

Many of the wills are rather straightforward, simply stating the distribution of assets to family, blood-related or otherwise—Rengoku to Senjurou and Shinjurou, Kochou to Kanao, Kanroji to her parents and siblings.

Neither Giyuu nor Sanemi expected that Iguro had listed Kanroji in his will, to relinquish all his possessions to her.

Himejima and Tokitou's wills state their intentions to return their assets back to the Ubuyashiki family, to direct resources back to the driving force leading humanity to the path of peace.

Still, even in these dry declarations, every one of their personalities, dreams, and desires bleed into each word. Burning determination to vanquish all demons notwithstanding, their own ideals seep between the lines. Hopes that were unfulfilled while they were alive.

When they had all written their wills, Ubuyashiki Kagaya had an additional request for them: to write one thing they wish to fulfil when the day free from Kibutsuji Muzan and demons finally arrives. Whether it was a strategy to motivate them or was it just a way for Ubuyashiki to get to know his children more personally, they were all asked to write one.

Giyuu did not write anything like that. He only stated his wish to bequeath all that he has to Urokodaki. Except the Water Hashira estate, which would be passed down to the ( rightful, deserving —) Water Hashira.

The Master had reluctantly accepted his incomplete will, but reiterated that he was free to amend and add to it at any point in time. Giyuu had agreed, but he was clear on his decision. There was nothing else he had strived for back then, besides the eradication of demons. 

He is rather glad to see that his fellow Hashira thought differently.

Kochou wanted Kanao to have the courage to live the life she wants.

Rengoku wanted to dedicate his entirety to helping his brother pursue whatever his heart desires.

Kanroji wanted to get married and have children.

Iguro wanted to go to the sea one day, with someone dear to him, and observe the sunrise together.

Tokitou wanted to fold one origami for each of those they have lost, in commemoration of their sacrifice.

Himejima wanted to build an orphanage, and give himself another chance to open up his heart again.

Giyuu leaves no word unread and undeciphered. He takes his time to go through every single line, picking them apart and piecing them back together to understand these people in ways he never had the chance to before.

“Thank you for letting us have a look at these,” Sanemi says when they have read through them all.

Kiriya smiles. “It is my honor. It is of great relief to know that there are more people to remember those we have lost, to ensure that they are not forgotten and lost between the cracks of history.”

He holds out another folded piece of paper to Sanemi.

“Sanemi, we have also retrieved Genya’s will. I apologize for keeping it from you for so long, but I wanted to give this to you in person. I reckon now would be an ideal time. Would you like to read it?”

Sanemi freezes. But his shoulders untense and he carefully accepts the paper from him.

In his own will, Sanemi has put in Genya’s name. If something were to happen to him, all that he owns and more would go to Genya — the Master would make sure that his little brother would be taken care of.

He should have expected Genya to have provided a will of his own as well. His own nonacceptance aside, Genya was still recognized as an official member of the corps. But the paper is foreign yet so familiar in his hands. Featherlight and yet so heavy. Genya’s words, tucked away in a deceivingly simple piece of paper.

“Since we are on this matter, would either of you like to amend your wills? The circumstances have changed and I am certain you have different priorities now compared to when you first wrote them.”

Kiriya passes them their respective wills. Giyuu does not need to open it to remember what he had written, word for word.

But those words belong to a man haunted by grief. A living ghost who breathed but did not live. The sullen lull across stagnant water.

That man is now but a shadow of his current self. An echo of a reflection at the bottom of a clear lake.

“I would like to write a new one.”

“So do I.” Sanemi chimes in.

They unconsciously dart their eyes to each other, only to be surprised when their gazes meet.

Kiriya nods. “You can give it to us when you are ready.

“Thank you both again for coming. I pray you will continue to be in good health.”

Back at their estate, they settle down on the engawa outside in their bedroom, digesting all that has happened today.

“There was much I have learnt during this visit.” Giyuu says as he pours tea for them both.

“Me too.” Sanemi glances down at Genya’s will. It is the only one they have taken back with them.

Giyuu peers at him, mindful. “Do you want me to step out?”

Sanemi shakes his head. “No, I want you to be here.”

Holding Genya’s will in both hands, he releases a shaky breath that does not unwind the coiled anticipation in his shoulders. He stills the tremor in his fingers as he peels the letter open.

Giyuu tracks his reaction closely. The way his gaze, sharp yet brittle, latches onto the first word and drags across the page with intense focus. The way it flickers and wavers, like a flame faltering under a gust of wind.

The way it blurs and mists, a woeful roll of waves threatening to overflow.

Giyuu cradles his hand against Sanemi’s face, consoling thumb catching the first tear that escapes his eye. Sanemi’s sorrow spills out, an engulfing surge that chokes him with a heartache he strains to articulate.  

“Reading this—his words—I could hear him,” Sanemi gasps. “His voice—it's as if he is saying this. To me . I could—I could feel him again.”

The searing ache of having one’s heart flayed open. Giyuu recalls the embrace that carried the faint scent of peaches, and sees himself in Sanemi. A mirroring grief with no place to go. Suffocating grief, which is just love bleeding from an open wound.

“What did he say?” Giyuu asks. Quietly, delicately.

For a long, drawn-out breath, Sanemi does not say anything. Tongue trapped in the clutches of his own mourning.

“He said he has nothing to his name, so the only thing he wants to pass down in his will is his wish for me to be safe, to be cared for by the Ubuyashiki family and the corps.”

Sanemi’s eyes slip shut, and more tears spill out.

Giyuu’s hand slides from the side of his face to the back of his neck. He tugs, and Sanemi dips along with the motion, burying his facing into the crook of his neck.

Giyuu presses his cheek into Sanemi’s hair. Every exhale rustles silver strands, like leaden feathers in the wind, too weighed down to take flight.

“He is a good brother. You are fortunate to be loved by him.”

A strangled sob tears through Sanemi’s throat. Giyuu plants a kiss on the crown of his head, wishing for forgiveness upon him. Forgiveness he is certain was granted long before Sanemi even knew how to ask for it.

A light zephyr murmurs past them as Sanemi’s cries begin to fade. Giyuu’s shoulder has been stained with his tears at this point, but he hardly pays it any mind. He listens to the cadence of Sanemi’s breathing, settling back into its usual rhythm. Sanemi is in no hurry to pull away, and neither is Giyuu in a rush to let go.

Gradually, Sanemi leans back. There is a blank daze in his eyes, framed by the swell along his lids. Giyuu runs a thumb across the bottom edge, coaxing light back into them.

Sanemi presses Genya’s will to his chest. His fingers dig into the paper with the wishful intention to melt it into his body. To sink Genya’s words into his body, heart and soul.

His chest rises as he breathes life back into himself. He tips his head up, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Lilac blooms in his eyes.

Turning to Giyuu, Sanemi sways into his space. His lips brush past Giyuu’s. A grazing kiss, a wordless gratitude. Giyuu tilts his head forward, chasing. 

Folding the paper and tucking it away, Sanemi pushes himself onto his feet. Giyuu peers up at him. Sanemi’s kimono sleeves flutter in the wind—wings catching the draft underneath them, anticipating to soar headfirst into the sky.

“Have you decided then?” Surety returns to his voice.

Giyuu nods. “I want to help fulfil the final wishes of the late Hashira. Is this what you want as well?”

Sanemi glances down at him. The sun illuminates the ends of his hair, encircling his head in a golden halo. The smile on his face is soft like a waking kiss, yet brighter than any star Giyuu has seen.

“Yes.” Comes his decisive response.

Giyuu gazes at him, silent for several spellbound seconds.

He eventually finds his voice again. “Then we start with Iguro's. It is the easiest one.”

Sanemi hums. “You want to fulfil every one of theirs?”

“As much as I can.”

“Even Kanroji’s?”

“What about hers?”

Sanemi regards him, skeptical. “She wanted to get married, have children.”

Giyuu falls quiet for a few thoughtful seconds. Then, “I would like to. If it is with you.”

Sanemi gawks at Giyuu.

“Oh.”

A smile grows on Giyuu’s face, sincere. A rose-red blush blossoms on Sanemi’s.

“Fuck—alright. We could—we’ll need to figure out how, but—we could.”

Giyuu laughs. His hand finds Sanemi’s, linking their hearts together with the tug of his fingers. 

With a grin, Sanemi pulls him up to his feet and into an embrace. One arm cradles Giyuu’s waist as his other hand remains joined with Giyuu’s. Gazes ardent and soft. Heart pressed against heart. 

Whatever tomorrow may bring, they will stride towards it, calloused and well-loved hands clasped together in devotion.