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It’s been eight years since Sabito’s death.
Giyuu sat at the bottom of Mt. Fujikasane, taking in the sweet scent of the wisteria flowers. He looks towards the woods - towards the place where he lost the person he loved more than anything.
‘Why couldn’t it have been me?’ he thinks, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter as tears well up in his eyes. He thinks about how he doesn’t deserve any of this - being a pillar, being a demon slayer, being alive. it all belonged to Sabito, but Sabito was gone.
He can still hear Sabito - he can still feel his touch. He remembers them training together when they were children, he remembers Sabito telling him to keep going when Giyuu was on the verge of quitting. He remembers the warmth of his hug, and how their hands fit together so perfectly. He remembers starry nights and quiet giggles - touchy hands and rosy cheeks.
He remembers their last night together so many years ago, the memory burned in his retinas. He remembers the gentle breeze, he remembers the calm night, he remembers how the world seemed to stopped when Sabito’s calloused hand cupped his face.
He remembers how Sabito blushed ever so gently, pink dusting his cheekbones. He remembers how Sabito tilted his head, bringing their heads closer together. he remembers the warmth he felt - the beautiful, comforting familiarity that reminded him of home - when Sabito’s lips pressed against his. He remembers how soft they were, how gentle they were, and god, what Giyuu would give to go back to that moment.
He remembers Sabito’s soft laugh, he remembers his sweet smile, he remembers how sabito kissed him over and over and over again, peppering kisses on every part of Giyuu’s face.
He remembers how he looked into Giyuu’s eyes - he remembers how Sabito’s eyes were sparkling with happiness and joy.
He remembers when Sabito told him, “Let’s survive final selection together.”
He remembers how they didn’t.