Chapter Text
Giyuu found himself in… a very odd situation.
Sanemi was sitting behind him, carding through his hair with a comb he’d managed to find somewhere in his room. They’d been sitting there on the veranda for the past 15 minutes, give or take, Giyuu’s legs swung over the edge of the veranda; he’d swing them every once in a while when they’d become numb.
A drop of water would glide off of the roof hanging over the landing and fall onto the top of his head, slowly sliding down the hair over the sides of his face. He wouldn’t move to wipe it off, or try to block it from falling, cold, onto his cheek. He hadn’t… moved, a lot, the past few days.
The comb would occasionally tug on a knot in his hair, and pull on his head slightly. Whenever he’d tip over an visible amount, Sanemi would scoff at him and move him back into place– he thought he’d heard him laugh softly, one time he got his hair tugged on so hard he practically fell backwards onto him, but he wasn’t entirely sure he had heard it right.
He really wasn’t used to someone else taking care of him— he’d been entirely on his own since he left Urokodaki, and relying on himself for most things for even longer since his parents died.
This was weird.
“Hey, Tomioka, you still with me?”
Giyuu turned his head a bit backward to look at Sanemi— he wasn’t even aware that he’d dazed off. The brush tugged at his hair a bit when he turned his head, resting on his scalp. It was nice. Calming. He could probably fall back asleep like this.
“Hm?”
“Don’t fall asleep on me here. Literally or whatever.”
He straightened his back out a little, not noticing, again, how he’d leaned back into Sanemi. He was really warm, and Giyuu was shivering, and tired, and already acting out-of-character by even letting him do this; it was really just… subconscious.
“You’re never gonna be strong enough to do Hashira training if you keep falling asleep on the job, Tomioka.”
Giyuu sighed. “I’m not doing Hashira training.”
He heard Sanemi click his tongue behind him in annoyance. “What were you going on about earlier?”
Giyuu sighed, again. “I’m not worthy of this position, Shinazugawa.”
“Well, elaborate.”
Huh?
Giyuu didn’t respond. Sanemi waited for a few seconds before catching on to Giyuu’s confusion and continuing on.
“I told you to explain earlier, and you didn’t do a great job at it. Try it again.”
They sat in silence for a while, after that. Sanemi was being surprisingly patient with him, even after not getting a response for minutes.
Giyuu was hesitant. He didn’t know quite what Sanemi wanted out of him; he’d always been so disapproving, rude, around him— he couldn’t understand why now he seemed to be acting…softer? In a way. Like when he had said his hair looked nicer down. That had shocked him (flustered him too, if he’s being honest), so unaccustomed to being a subject of a kinder, gentler Sanemi.
Not like it wasn’t a welcomed change, though. Just a bit hard to get used to– if this shift in mood even lasted long.
And, there was always something about him, even before this change. He had always reminded Giyuu of Sabito, sort of– especially in moments like this, when he was being harsh but encouraging all the while. He’d be as brash and ruthless as usual, but there was something distinctly soft underneath. There was an undeniable caringness hidden beneath his usual audacity.
His insistence for Giyuu to join in the Hashira Training was, admittedly, annoying, considering he was also being stalked by Tanjiro (as kind as his intentions always were), but they were also… nice, if he was willing to admit it. His brand of harsh encouragement was always one that tended to work on Giyuu, clearly.
He was sure the silence would stretch too long soon, but a proper response to Sanemi’s prompting wasn’t coming to mind. The memories, emotions, that made up Giyuu would be too much, if he let them rush out like a waterfall all at once– the full story was too long. Too sorrowful, though he was sure every Hashira’s was. Still, he didn’t want to open the floodgates.
(Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Sabito’s whatever the suffering, bear it in silence still changed his mind when he thought of letting go.)
The silence ran on another few beats too long– the comb in his hair had stilled at some point, though he didn’t remember when. Sanemi sat silent behind him for another few minutes before speaking up.
“I can see you thinking.”
Giyuu didn’t make a noise in response.
Sanemi set the brush down, evident by the soft clicking of wood-against-wood. He got up, and moved a few steps to set himself down next to Giyuu instead of behind him, turning his head to try and catch his eye.
“I’m not gonna force you to say anything, Tomioka. But know that you’re gonna kill youself trying to keep it together by yourself forever.”
The dam broke.
Whether it was the persistence, the exhaustion from being sick, or the fact it was Sanemi of all people saying this– someone he had, admittedly, been looking up to for a good while–, the inclination to open up to him finally, finally won over.
(He won over Sabito, sort of. He got over his voice in his head.)
“I never did pass the final selection.”
“...Huh?”
Giyuu took a deep breath.
“On the mountain, there was another boy with me. Who I’d been training with.”
Sanemi scoffed next to him. He turned to look at him, trying to figure out what prompted it. “What, you think you’re below a little help?”
“No.” He looked back away, turning towards the courtyard in front of them. Out of his peripheral vision, it looked like Sanemi regretted what he had said a moment earlier, but didn't interrupt. “He died protecting the others. Me, included. He was the only participant to die that year.”
He sighed deeply. He didn’t like talking about, let alone thinking about this. It was far too painful.
“He was a much better swordsman than I’ll ever be. He shouldn’t have been the one to die, that year.”
The silence hanging in the air after Giyuu finished talking was almost unbearably heavy. He hadn’t told this story to anyone in years; he felt like he was drowning, internally. His eyes were fixed forward, onto the garden sitting in front of the engawa– faint, dim light shone onto pale flowers.
The pause lasted long enough that Giyuu almost started to doze back off; the haze of sadness that had been clouding his mind the past few days, muddled with a cold, started to creep back in. Just as his eyes were starting to flutter, Sanemi spoke up beside him.
“So, you’re just going to wallow forever?”
Giyuu’s head snapped up. “Huh?”
Sanemi was already looking back at him, sighing. “Tell me more. About him.”
Giyuu held his breath for a second. He hadn’t willingly dredged up a thought about Sabito in… years, honestly.
He normally would’ve been more inclined to ask why– but something in him was more willing to just keep talking about Sabito, when he got the chance. To remember, not in as painful of a way as he was accustomed to.
“He was very driven. Maybe a bit brash, though he always told me I was being too blunt whenever I spoke.” He took a breath. “He was… harsh, at times, with his motivation.” Whatever the suffering, bear it in silence.
“He was always trying to help you improve, though, even if he didn’t show much grace about it.”
He took another breath, preparing to keep talking, but was swiftly cut off.
“So, he was always trying to help you get better? No exceptions?”
“...Yes.”
“Well, why aren’t you taking his advice?”
Giyuu blanched.
Sanemi’s eyes burned into his, lavender tinged with red bleeding into the edges.
“You’re just sitting here pitying yourself instead of trying to improve more. That’s not what he would’ve wanted.”
It felt like Sanemi had slapped him.
He had never thought like that; not out of ignorance. God knows how many sleepless nights he’d spent in his youth mulling over every thought related to Sabito, over and over and over again.
He knew he couldn’t.
“I’ll never live up to him. Even if I tried.”
“Stop talking bullshit, Tomioka.”
Giyuu stopped, again, and furrowed his brow at Sanemi, who was looking at him sternly.
“You’re still a Hashira, even if you really don’t want to accept it. You’re one of the most skilled Demon Slayers in the corps, objectively. If you did all that while underestimating yourself, then you’re damn good.”
“You really think that about me?”
Sanemi scoffed at him and turned away. “I always thought you had an attitude problem, not necessarily a skill problem.”
Huh.
Giyuu hummed in response, and turned his own view back towards the courtyard.
A gust of wind passed by them.
Giyuu reached back to touch his hair— it was now smooth to the touch, unlike the usual mess it was most of the time. The knots that he knew had built up from the past few days were gone, now just barely noticeable waves in his hair. He could feel the breeze lightly flowing through it, and considered leaving it down just to feel it more often.
He was still reeling from the conversation he’d just had with Sanemi— the man was still sitting next to him. one leg propped up onto the veranda, looking off to some indeterminate point in the distance.
He didn’t know that Sanemi had felt like that, even with the recent change in mood. The thought of Sanemi not genuinely looking down on him, let alone respecting him, was entirely unexpected— it felt like he could hear his heart beating in his ears.
He had looked up to Sanemi since he’d first become a Hashira— he was strong, even then, and only got better as time went on. He couldn’t quite grasp the concept of Sanemi, of everyone, respecting his skill as a Demon Slayer of the same rank. Someone who’d spent so long seemingly despising him, though he supposed that was his fault for not properly explaining earlier.
(It hurt no less that he was reminded of Sabito, all the while; while Sanemi and Sabito were still entirely separate people engraved into his mind, he couldn’t help being reminded of Sabito’s attitude in Sanemi.)
He gathered his hair up into the shape of his usual ponytail— felt the small breeze hitting the back of his neck with his hair just barely lifted up. The sun, even if dim, felt nice on his skin after so long in the darkness of his room.
He let go of his hair and let it cascade back down his back. Some of it fell over his shoulders, the parts cut shorter in the front; the light yukata he’s been wearing to sleep was just barely too big on him, almost slipping down a shoulder but managing to stay up. He’d probably lost some weight, since he initially bought it for one reason or another.
He turned his head slightly to look over at Sanemi– his slightly pink-tinged hair, still looking off into the distance. The kill insignia stood out unmistakably on the back of his haori, just barely visible from the side. He was still, adamantly, looking away.
(He could’ve sworn there was a faint rosey tint on his cheeks, at some point.)
“Thank you, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi seemed to snap out of whatever daze he’d been in, looking back to Giyuu completely aloof and maybe a bit annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. You can go back to sleep now.”
Giyuu gave him a soft, barely there smile. Sanemi blinked very quickly, and crossed his arms over his chest with a more irritated expression on his face.
He raised an eyebrow at Giyuu, still seemingly ever so slightly panicked, for some reason. “Do you need me to fuckin’ carry you around again?”
“No. I’ll stay out here.”
Sanemi let out a hum. “Less shit for me to do.”
A less dense, far lighter silence fell over them for a beat.
“So.”
Giyuu tilted his head slightly to the side in response.
“Are you joining Hashira training, Tomioka?”
He looked away, eyes shadowed under his eyelashes where they looked down and out to the yard. Another soft, almost unnoticeable smile came over his face. “Maybe.”
“Whatever you want, I guess.”
Sanemi picked himself up off of the wooden flooring, looking indifferent. He started back off towards the path that would lead to the gate of the Water Estate, taking a few light steps so as to not crush the flowers that were growing just in front of the building, before stopping and turning back around to fix his eyes on Giyuu.
“You really are more capable than you think you are.”
Giyuu picked his eyes up, staring slightly up at Sanemi now that he was standing. The sun was shining a bit brighter than it had been when they first walked– stumbled, more accurately– out, framing Sanemi in light that reflected off of the light colors that made off his silhouette.
“Sorry if I made you feel otherwise. I… made some wrong assumptions.” He ran a hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. He looked nervous.
Giyuu was still flustered by all of this; he stared for a beat too long, then just nodded in response. Sanemi raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for more of a reply, before nodding back.
They looked at each other for a few seconds more before Sanemi nodded at him again, more at himself than Giyuu, and turned back around to head off to the path. Giyuu trailed him with his eyes until he turned a corner and disappeared from view– he could faintly hear him hopping over the gate moments later.
The sun beamed down on the courtyard in front of the veranda, standing its highest at noon. Light filtered through the hair in front of Giyuu’s face, though he remained mostly shaded by the roof over the engawa. He moved his hand to pick it up again, holding it out as far as it could go before letting it slip out from between his fingers.
He, strangely, felt warmer than he had in years.