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Existence in and of itself was both incredible and terrifying simultaneously. The chances of someone or something existing at all are so miniscule that they really could not be fathomed. The choices made by a single existence are infinite in possibility, leading into an even greater expanse of events, interactions, and impressions. Existence and it’s meaning tend to be measured by the impact it makes, it’s purpose. Purpose, however, is subjective, and ties directly into the terrifying element of existing. There are multiple factors across the timeframe of one’s life that amaze and terrify at the same time: emotions, connections, decisions, all of which affect what will eventually be one’s purpose. So, what is my purpose? Was it this, have I fulfilled my destiny? The solemn and uncertain thoughts floated through Giyuu’s mind like a cloud passing by. There was no harshness to them, they were not menacing, but they still left him feeling uncomfortable. Giyuu did not like to question himself or reflect on his past, he was stoic and simple -- always moving forward to reach his end goal. The trouble he was facing now is the question of what his end goal truly is.
For the majority of his life he had spent his time as a member of the Demon Slayers, whose collective goal was to eliminate the existence of demons and take down Muzan Kibutsuji. This is what Giyuu had always assumed to be his purpose, his goal -- and they had succeeded in their mission. He had fought against and aided in killing Muzan, not just as a member of the corps, but as one of the nine Hashira, a prestigious title only given to the best. While he knew deep down that he was falsely awarded such a position, he wore it with a semblance of pride. He owed at least that much to Sabito. The thought of his name alone sent a painful jolt to Giyuu’s heart. Not being one to dwell on emotions, he quickly tisked the feeling away with annoyance. His outward composure could remain unreadable, and he could force himself not to think about Sabito forever, but he could not hide from his subconscious. The small, and far too brief piece of his past was locked away inside of him, and he made it inaccessible. When Giyuu shut the door on his past love, he closed off his heart as well. He wouldn’t describe himself as cold or unlikable, yet he had been told on multiple occasions that he was. He wrestled daily with the primal desire to be loved and the relief of knowing that he wasn’t. Was loving Sabito my purpose?
The quick and chilled autumn breeze ran a shiver down his spine, breaking him from his thoughts and bringing him back to reality. He looked out at the small, quaint garden of the Wind Estate as he inhaled a cooling breath of fresh air. Reality for Giyuu was presently not much happier than inside his head. Although they had won their fight against Muzan, the cost of doing so was an astronomical blow not only to their numbers, but to their hearts as well. He and Sanemi Shinazugawa were the last remaining Hashira, the other seven members that he had spent so long fighting alongside were no longer here with him. He took their memories and bottled them up, putting them in a place next to Sabito, and his sister, his collection of failed purposes. He grimaced, his undeniable unhappiness evident to the world surrounding him. He felt grey, colorless and lifeless, a hideous contrast to the pink and purple hues of the sunset above him. Even the bright oranges and reds of the turning leaves mocked him, as they still looked externally beautiful regardless of the fact that they were dead on the inside.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The gruff voice behind him startled him, eyes widening in surprise as he had forgotten he was not here alone. The footsteps that approached him had an uncharacteristically soft manner about them, sounding more like a shuffle than the loud, thundering sounds that usually emitted from Sanemi.
“Yes,” Giyuu replied, softly but with no emotion. He had faltered earlier by expressing his feelings with his features, and he cursed the thought that Sanemi could have seen him. His head would not allow him to stay there for long, as his focus shifted immediately to the sounds of someone in close proximity. Sanemi sat behind him, a light clang of steel hitting the ground as he lay his sword next to him, and then silence. The world was quiet around them, something the pair was not accustomed to, but both had silently agreed to enjoy for a moment. There was an evident sadness within the space they occupied, and Giyuu would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the flip of Sanemi’s behavior. He was the loudest, most boisterous and chaotic of all the Hashira, perhaps of all the Demon Slayer Corps as a whole. He was cocky and arrogant, a show-off to put it mildly, and his passion for killing demons was fueled by sheer hatred and anger rather than serving justice or bringing peace. Since the downfall of Muzan, Sanemi has become much like their current situation… quiet. Soft.
“It’ll be strange to see you without all of this hair,” a light laugh followed Sanemi’s trailed-off statement, sounding uncertain but also incomplete. Giyuu’s brain picked at him, itching to know if there was more to be said, but his stoic nature kept his mouth shut. He insisted still on believing that words were useless and too complex, too easily construed from their original meaning. He lived his life choosing his words carefully, and he wasn’t sure why he had the urge to stop now. “I’ve always kind of liked it,” this time, Sanemi’s words were accompanied by a touch. A feather-light stroke of his calloused fingers through Giyuu’s jet-black strands, paired with an unintentional open-mouthed gasp at the feeling from both parties. Giyuu’s eyes were wide in horror at the noise, but his accelerated heart rate was what really concerned him. Before Giyuu could question his internal turmoil and the situation he was in, there was a shuffle across the wooden floor boards behind him. Sanemi had inched himself closer, his knees touched the base of Giyuu’s lower back, and the simple contact that was the touch from another person spread a vaguely familiar warmth throughout his body.
Two large, strong, battle-worn hands found their way into the black locks, absentmindedly stroking the long strands contently. Giyuu faltered, letting his eyes flutter shut at the feeling and secretly taking pleasure in being touched by hands that did not belong to him. “Are you ready?” Sanemi asked softly, voice only slightly above a whisper, and the closeness of his voice made a rash of goosebumps appear across Giyuu’s arms.
“Yes,” he answered once more, the single word leaving his lips in a much more breathless manner than he had intended. His hand shook lightly, but he refused to acknowledge it as he removed his haori from each shoulder and shrugged, allowing it to drop loosely at his sides. The cool, nighttime air hit his bare flesh and he hissed at the feeling, his nerves succumbing to multiple sources of stimulation and clouding his sense of dignity. A sharp intake of breath behind him piqued his curiosity, but was quickly forgotten as he watched from the corner of his eye as Sanemi lifted his sword from the ground. Giyuu’s heart pounded in his chest, demanding him to listen to and acknowledge it, and the hand that brushed his bare skin brought him one step closer to doing so.
Using one hand to steady Giyuu’s long ponytail, Sanemi raised his blade against the thick locks gently. The rough and calloused fingertips that danced lightly across Giyuu’s spine had his attention more than the sword at the base of his neck. His skin pulsed with each delicate and accidental touch from Sanemi, and he forced himself to shut his eyes in an attempt to make it less real. Slowly, a more firm grip made its way around the tied locks, dragging lightly downwards to the very end and pulling them taut. The feeling sent a jolt of exhilaration through Giyuu’s body, and the warmth within him heated up, spreading quickly to his face as a light and airy ah left his mouth. His head tilted back slightly, he opened his eyes to face the darkening sky above him and prayed the lack of sunlight would provide cover for his display of emotion.
He felt movement from the body behind him and waited for the all-too familiar sound of a blade. In one swift motion, a quick whisk of air tickled the back of his neck, and the bare skin that had been covered for so long was exposed. The baby hairs at the base of his neck stood at the feeling of the chilly air surrounding the newly displayed flesh. Absentmindedly, Giyuu reached his arm back to feel the lack of his signature long locks that he was so accustomed to. He ran his own fingers through the now chopped ends in shock and awe, withdrawing his hand and forcing himself to retreat back to his own head -- or at least attempting to. Another surprised gasp exited him at the warm touch of a calloused hand on his lower back. Sanemi’s palm lay flat, exerting a palpable heatwave for Giyuu to ride out. His free hand found its home in the newly-shortened hair, admiring out loud at the difference. Giyuu had to force himself to stay upright, as every inch of his body screamed to lay backward into the terrifyingly welcoming heat of Sanemi’s muscular body. “Does it feel like a weight off of your shoulders?” An innocent rhetorical question, but one that held much deeper meaning to Giyuu than he was willing to admit. As the words found their way into Giyuu’s muddled thoughts, his mouth moved before he could tell it not to.
“Sanemi, have you ever thought about your purpose?” He regretted the question as soon as it left him, and irritation with himself began to rise. As much as he wanted to retract it and take it back, his want for hearing and knowing the answer was stronger. In the seconds of uncertain silence that ticked by, Giyuu briefly wondered what he was hoping to gain from whatever it was Sanemi decided to say. Comfort? Reassurance?
“My purpose…” Sanemi’s tone indicated his surprise at the question, but there was no reluctance to answer it. “Well, I suppose my purpose was to protect Genya.” While the answer was heartbreaking, the tone of his answer held no sorrow. However, Giyuu knew Sanemi wore a sad smile while he declared it, but the insinuation and triumph in the unexpected second half of his answer struck Giyuu with newfound realization. “But who says we only have one purpose?” It was barely above a whisper, and the words were uttered in a much closer proximity than his previous statement. This time, Giyuu did not gasp in surprise when the hand on his lower back moved, cautious yet confident, it snaked its way around his bare abdomen and held him tightly. The fingers in his hair continued their ministrations, the soft tugs and light strokes coaxing Giyuu’s repressed emotions to the surface.
Soft and subtle, an unfamiliar feeling tickled the back of Giyuu’s neck warmly, his senses heightened at the delicate, unmistakable touch of a pair of lips on his skin. They traveled slowly, moving with purpose and passion, and each kiss removed a brick from the wall Giyuu had built around his heart. It was undeniable he was afraid of letting go, but it was even more so undeniable that he wanted this. A feathery touch behind his ear was accompanied by the words his subconscious ultimately knew to be the truth. “Maybe we can find our purpose together, Tomioka.”
In perfect timing, his body moved on its own to face the soul that was finally able to rekindle the flames of passion that Giyuu held within him. Turning his head and chest to the side, he was met head-on with the taste of reassurance. His timid and needy mouth moved in sync with the confidence of Sanemi’s, and he exhaled a moan that released all of his tensions. Sanemi’s words felt like a prophecy that Giyuu was more than willing to follow, and he tangled his hand in the mess of hair that belonged to his newfound purpose. His senses were overloaded with the feeling of finality, as he submerged himself in the waters of destiny and silently promised to fulfill his new role. In this simple moment of vulnerability, two broken hearts began to mend, neither able to put themselves back together without the other. The chances of Giyuu finding Sanemi, and their hearts calling out for each other were miniscule. The infinite possibilities that presented themselves across the span of Giyuu’s life lead him here, and each of his purposes built him to become the person he needed to be, who Sanemi needed him to be. With the foreign taste of love once again on his lips, Giyuu silently thanked the universe for Sanemi’s existence.