Work Text:
The only thing Giyuu remembers is being enclosed by Muzan’s blood demon art in an attempt to escape from Tanjirou’s blade, which he was supporting with every inch of his being.
The next thing he knew was pain.
It started with his ears, throbbing loudly with a loud ringing, shooting into the innerworks of his hearing. The repercussions of using his water breathing, for who knows how long, is manifesting on to him. He feels his pulse slowing down as it drums through the pace of his body, wincing as the blood gathers in his mutilated arm, blurry vision eventually regaining sight.
Giyuu pushes himself to stand, walking through the streets in the aftermaths of chaos. He hears crying, and cheers in the midst of it, yet oh so softly. He pushes through, eardrums still ringing and heart pounding without any signs of slowing down, his walk unbalanced from his injuries, yet even as kakushis pour into his aid, begging him to stop, to not move any inch more, he pushes through.
It was over, Giyuu thinks. He knows that, but he has to be sure, he has to make sure this effort, this bloodbath has not gone to waste.
Because as demon slayers, Giyuu remembers, we fight. For the greater good, sure. And as Hashiras, he remembers Kyoujurou’s voice clear as day, we fight to protect the weak.
Giyuu can’t die because he’s strong, and now that everything’s over, he can almost feel Sabito’s and Tsutako’s hands patting the mane of his head, telling him that he did a great job. But no, not yet. Not now.
Not until he confirms that what he’s fighting for, what he’s truly living for, is okay.
Tanjirou.
Giyuu just wants to know if Tanjirou’s okay.
He should be, right? He reassures himself. This is Tanjirou we’re talking about.
Surely by some godforsaken miracle, he’ll survive, right? He always has. And he will.
Giyuu hangs to this remaining hope, even as it shines so faintly.
He snaps back to reality when the kakushis call for his name.
“Tomioka-san!” They pleaded, the worry in their voices unwavering. “Please, we’re begging you, don’t move!”
Giyuu was lost, and the only response he says is: “Where’s Tanjirou?” He feels determined, but the concern on his face grows by the second.
“A-anyways first aid!” the same kakushi steps in front of Giyuu, arms lateral, as if protecting him from something he shouldn’t see.
Giyuu continues onward to where he remembers the last he has seen Tanjirou, yet the moment he sees a glimpse of a familiar redhead some meters to his front, he freezes.
Had the Kakushi been bigger than he was, Giyuu would have been blocked by seeing this view. Giyuu would have retreated, partially being convinced that someone took care of what he’s looking for, the faith in himself and in Tanjirou not crumbling.
Yet Giyuu’s mind blanks out, and his heart grows more quiet, seeing a familiar silhouette with hanafuda earrings he could recognise anywhere, kneeling on the ground with a broken sword supporting his stance.
For as hazy as Giyuu’s sight was, he could clearly see that this person wasn’t moving in the slightest. Not a hint of breathing, not a finger moving.
Giyuu holds his breath as kakushis beside this kid checks every pulse: his wrists, by the neck; they cry as they couldn’t find the pulse they were looking for, and Tanjirou’s skin isn’t getting any livelier.
The person beside him declares he has no more pulse, no more wind coming out of this child’s airpaths, and Giyuu feels his world has stopped turning.
It was quiet, save for the cries of comrades, several other demon slayers discovering that the person who made defeating Muzan possible, the being well loved and admired by the lots of the corps: gone.
Giyuu calls his name out, yet no sound reached his lips.
Tanjirou.
He calls, and his heart swells, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he remembers this boy, this child he grew so close with, this kid he treats like someone, like family.
Gone.
And Giyuu’s soul breaks apart.
Slowly approaching Tanjirou’s body aches him, in the deepest parts of his soul, he knew it was inevitable. He has witnessed enough deaths no matter how blessed and talented, nor how brave or kind people can be. He knows death takes and takes, and Giyuu still don't want to believe, but it has happened.
He kneels in front of him, lowering his guard, his weapon.
He holds Tanjirou’s hands, tight, hoping that these same hands squeeze back, but as he closes the gap between their foreheads, hoping to fuel warmth into the cold body in front of him, he is finally certain that Tanjirou… has stopped breathing.
Giyuu was feeling everything: loss, anger, but mostly…
Regret.
“I failed,” he starts, “to protect someone again. I’m the one always being protected by people.” He confesses like it was the whole truth.
“Forgive me. I’m sorry Nezuko,” his sister, god, how could he remember just now? If anyone has the right to feel worse, then it is her. Giyuu sobs harder, the gates to his sorrow opening, feelings crashing into each other. He wants to scream, louder than the voices wailing in this street, but he couldn’t. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he loses his grip on Tanjirou’s hands, voice failing to reach anyone’s ears.
Giyuu closes his eyes, reliving the youth that Tanjirou was. He remembers how this child and his sister completely changed the way he had perceived demons, and as his journey fares, he was convinced that not all demons are evil, since all demons were once human. Tanjirou helped him realise what it means to trust again, to feel familial love, and to have someone you would want to protect willingly and wholeheartedly.
But life isn’t fair, and the next thing Giyuu knew, Tanjirou was gone.
He couldn’t accept it yet, but if Tanjirou were here, and he could still feel he was here, Tanjirou wouldn’t get tired of telling Giyuu to move forward.
So Giyuu does, for now.
For Tanjirou.
He moved his face away from Tanjirou. Retreating, and hoping that the next thing he sees are those same red eyes full of life.
Giyuu does, but what he couldn’t believe is… Tanjirou’s forehead wound was… healing on its own?
The cold body slowly opened their eyes, and the next fraction of a moment that Giyuu blinked, these same eyes were staring right back into his soul.
They were blood red.