Archive of Our Own

“You’re staring again.”

Tanjiro immediately snapped to attention, apologizing over and over again, already trying to come up with an excuse more plausible than reality. By his side, legs tucked to his chest as he usually did when they visited this soft slope to nowhere, Giyuu glared at him. Well, it was more of a pout than a glare, but he was clearly displeased.

It was evening already, their Pillar Training over for the day. After Giyuu had finally opened up about his past and guilt, they had been returning to that same place just to share a moment of quiet peace. They sat together, side by side, bruised and tired but clean.

Sometimes they shared a quiet conversation, other times Giyuu would look at the sky and get lost in it. Tanjiro thought he was disconnected enough to not notice his wandering eyes, but he clearly had underestimated a Pillar's awareness.

Just as he was thinking that, his eyes were once again drawn to Giyuu's hand, as if he couldn't look away.

It was a little hard not to stare, truth be told. How his red string of fate floated in the air, distracting and wholly unhelpful, an entire story in its length. Tanjiro tried a smile.  “You just have… very nice hands?”

They both stared at each other, and it was almost comical the way Giyuu’s deadpan face was screaming what.

“They’re just… hands.” He settled for saying, pulling on the sleeve of his haori to hide them from sight anyway. When he noticed the distress on the younger teen’s face, he felt inexplicably concerned. “Do you like hands that much?”

Tanjiro blushed, as he remembered to compose himself before more misunderstandings were created. He sighed and then just flopped on his back, staring at the clouds lazily drifting overhead.

Staring at the endless sea of interwoven red strings, intangible connections, promises and fateful encounters. Most strings stayed closer to the ground, their soulmates not that far away. But others were not so lucky.

Some of the people at either side of those long strings would never meet. Others would fight and struggle to find each other. But not all of them were like that. Some of those were nearly forged, soulmates that had just taken their first breaths, who would shorten the distance between them like two wayward flowers floating down the stream and meeting at a juncture.

Tanjiro had seen all sort of strings in his short life. He had seen strong, beautiful bonds, he had seen convoluted, tangled threads. He had seen frayed, thin strings and vibrant red ones.

And yet, when he met Giyuu he was still surprised.

It was a painful first meeting. His family bleeding on the snow, corpses still warm. His sister growling with fangs and claws and no recognition in her slit eyes.

And in the middle of the madness, a teenager dressed like a soldier had appeared. He had looked at the massacre, looked at the sister trying to kill her brother, with apathy in his eyes and went for the kill.

Tanjiro had been too distracted at first. Terrified out of his mind, confused and in pain. He had to focus, even if the world did not make any sense anymore, he needed to protect his sister.

He did not give up, he tried again and again and again to get through the older teen until light flickered in those darkened eyes.

He stayed his hand.

A teenager dressed like a soldier, coming undone at the seams in a show of mercy.

His brow furrowed, grief dancing in his eyes as he told Tanjiro how to survive.

He kept himself at arm’s reach, trying to protect his own heart.

On his dominant hand, the one handling the blade, his red string of fate danced in the air. Strong, vibrant…

And broken.

(The vision would haunt Tanjiro for days to come, of the empty man with the broken bond.)

The string that tied people together came in many forms. Tanjiro could easily distinguish between two strangers who had just met, and soulmates who had been nurturing their bond day after day. He could see the frayed, thin and almost pale threads of those unfortunate enough to lose their fated companion.

But this man’s…

It was not frayed. It was not old.

It was strong, and vibrant and it led nowhere.

It had been broken, sliced clean. And yet it was as if the thread had yet to realize.

Whoever had been on the other side of the string had long since departed, but they had never been forgotten.

He knew his name now.

He knew their story.

And still he wasn’t sure he understood the depth of the anguish on the other side of the broken thread. Of the man who willingly nurtured a bond that was no more.

Giyuu had finally given up and let Tanjiro in. He had told him of how unworthy he felt, how useless. How the world would have been a better place if he had died instead of them.

Tanjiro had always felt a helpless sadness when he saw Giyuu’s red thread, how he cared for it, kept his heart open and bleeding for a man long gone.

But now he thought he finally understood how deep the wound ran.

“Giyuu-san, what do you think about soulmates?” Tanjiro whispered, doing his best to blink back his memories.

(He missed Giyuu’s disgruntled face at the topic change, missed his growing nervousness as the silence between them stretched.

But Tanjiro looked thoughtful, and it wasn’t like Giyuu cared all that much about his hand fetish.)

“I don’t… really have much to say about them.” That was a lie, but it was an honest one. “The demon slayers don’t really try to meet their soulmates.”

Giyuu didn’t continue but he didn’t have to. It was blatantly obvious why.

Being a demon slayer was a thankless job. It was a job that could get you killed at the drop of a hat. Those who joined usually had nothing left. Not even a soulmate. And those who did could not bear to put their soulmate through the grief.

(Giyuu had failed his own soulmate. Did he even have the right to talk about it?)

And yet, this question had been so out of the blue. It made Giyuu want to ask, “What about you?”

Tanjiro raised one hand, as if wanting to reach the thousands of red strings in the air above. “I don’t have one. A soulmate, I mean.”

Giyuu flinched so suddenly, it made the younger teen sit up in a hurry, waving his hands wildly as he tried to explain. “Ah! I don’t mean that I lost them! I’m sorry!”

When he relaxed, Tanjiro allowed himself a smile. He sat cross-legged, leaning closer to the other man as he explained. “You see; our family has served the Fire God for generations. And because of that, the eldest son or daughter of every generation is born without a red string of our own. It is said that we are bound to the god, as he watches over all of us.”

He thought he was going to be met with more disbelief, but despite Giyuu’s wide eyes, all he did was nod slowly, as he processed what he had said. 

Tanjiro decided to give him a moment, as he laid back down. He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze blowing. Smelling the soft sadness coming from the man by his side.

 “That sounds… lonely.” Tanjiro peeked at him, from the corner of his eyes, the man was clutching his own string with his other hand, loops of red tangled on his fingers, around his loosely clenched fist, face downcast.

“Is it? It doesn’t mean I can’t fall in love, or can’t find someone to be with. My mom had a one-way bond with my dad. A string so special not even he could see it. It was a very pretty thread. Even though my father could never know if she was really bonded to him, he loved her very much. I would like to be like him someday. And it’s not like all soulmates are romantic. There’s also platonic, not to mention that new bonds can be formed even if they’re not tangible like the threads.”

“You… have given it a lot of thought.”

Tanjiro wasn’t sure what to reply, but when Giyuu laid down next to him, he knew he didn’t have to.

“You can see other people’s strings,” Giyuu said rather than asked, his voice devoid of judgement. Not as surprised as he probably should be, given how you weren't supposed to see any string other than your own.

Still, Tanjiro was nervous as he mumbled his assent.

“So you can see my string?”

He grunted softly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, it’s… okay.” Giyuu paused next, as if surprised of his own words. “Sabito… He was my soulmate.”

“I’m really sorry, Giyuu-san.”

“I am too.”

“I… To be honest I didn’t just bring it up for nothing.” Tanjiro continued, drawing strength from the way the lonely man by his side stayed. “I know you love Sabito. You’ve care for the broken thread even years after his passing. But life does not end at the end of your string, Giyuu-san. The world is vast, and life is fickle. I’m sure Sabito would have wanted you to move on. I’m sure there’s somebody waiting for you, bond or no bond. You have to let your wound heal, otherwise it will never scar.”

“I don’t…” Giyuu sighed, again and again as he tried coming up with words to say. “I’m not much. I wouldn’t dare butt into other people’s lives when I don’t have anything to offer. I am a Pillar, and I’ve already decided to work hard to be worthy of that name. I don’t have time for… for those frivolous things.”

Tanjiro scowled. His brows knit together, his lips pulled in a pout as he rose to his knees and crawled to be towering over him.

He opened his mouth several times, his frown waning with every aborted attempt. The younger teen just sat back down and sighed.

And then reached for Giyuu’s right hand.

“When you agreed to remain as a Pillar and join the training, I thought you were doing better.” Tanjiro said, voice soft as he gently grabbed Giyuu’s broken red thread as if he wasn't just an impossibility after the next. He slowly unwound it from his fingers, grasp firm but not forceful. “I don’t understand how you can put yourself down so cruelly, when you’re nothing but kind.”

I’m not kind, Giyuu wanted to tell him, his heart hammering in his throat as he watched someone else messing with his bond. I’m not. That’s all you.

“Not everyone would have spared me and Nezuko after she was turned.” Tanjiro continued, gently untangling knots that Giyuu didn’t remember seeing. “You even went as far as to put your own life on the line to protect us. I already thanked you for that, but… When you stood up for us during that pillar meeting I thought that maybe, maybe I wasn’t crazy, that maybe I could really help Nezuko. Maybe everything was not lost. You gave that hope to me, Giyuu-san. You were kind to us. You saved us when the entire world wanted us dead.”

The younger teen with tears in his eyes smiled down at the string in his hands, tangle-free and immaculate. “The world is vast, and cold and harsh. Your soulmate is supposed to be your haven from that. But it’s not your only connection. We create intangible, invisible bonds all the time. With our family, our friends. Even with people we save and never see again. The world is cold, but we don’t have to be, Giyuu-san.”

And then Tanjiro wound the red thread around his own pinky and tied a knot.

He presented his hand to Giyuu, the bunny-eared knot stark against his skin. “You’re not alone, Giyuu-san. You are not unworthy. It would be my honor to be your soulmate, if that’s alright with you.”

But Giyuu had no words, staring at the silly knot, staring at his own thread, connected after so long.

He remembered Sabito, he remembered Makomo and Urokodaki. He remembered his sister. He was alive when he should have died. He was alive instead of them.

(But was he really alive when he wasn’t living?)

Tanjiro laughed, embarrassed. “You’re stuck with me, Giyuu-san. You’re stuck with us.”

Giyuu reached out his hands and softly held Tanjiro’s, admiring the knot. “Why?” He asked, simply.

Tanjiro’s smile could rival the sun. “Because you’re our friend. Because soulmates are meant to be each other’s strengths and I want to help you. I admire you, Giyuu-san. You’re strong, and brave and I wish you could see all of that.”

“I’m just me.”

“And that’s all you have to be.”

“Tanjiro,” Giyuu said next, desperation in his voice. "Tanjiro, I can't do this again."

"Then don't." The other teen said firmly, as if it was that simple. 

And maybe it was.

"I-I did kind of decide this all on my own, oh my god, um, maybe you don't want me as your soulmate. And it's not like we would be real soulmates, but-"

He didn't get the chance to continue as Giyuu reached out a hand, dragging him closer until he could press their foreheads together. "I want it. It's mine now, you can't undo it."

Tanjiro laughed, breathy and relieved. "I won't! I won't!"

“I will protect you. I will protect you with my life. You’re not- you’re not allowed to die on me now.”

“Neither are you,” Tanjiro's laugh was heavier, wetter, feeling small and vulnerable and safe.

It was odd.

He had always been the older brother.

The caretaker.

The protector.

So why was it so easy to lean into Giyuu, and let himself go?

He cried. Scared and relieved and burdened with an entire life of grief. He cried into Giyuu’s shoulder, he cried into his embrace, and for the first time since that cold morning he had watched his family die, he felt comforted. Safe. Secure.

They both had lost everything precious to them. They both had suffered more than one person should.

But Tanjiro had Nezuko to keep away from his grief.

And now Giyuu had him, had them.

He finally had a reason to exist, something to protect.

And the world would perish before he allowed it to take them away.