Chapter Text
“I would like you to be my Tsuguko.”
Water Breath users, they said, were bearers of ill omen.
They had a great record of immediately getting hunted and killed in the selection exams, and getting whoever was closest to them killed with them. Some trainers would warn their students on the eve of the exam, to stay far away from the children with fox masks. Such discrimination had lessened since the mutant in the forest was killed some years back- well they presume it was killed. All they knew was that one year, the proctors found themselves offering sword ores to a bewildered, breathing batch of water breath users and every year since the corps would find at least two new additions to their numbers bearing painted fox masks. (A great increase from the flat zero of many previous years.)
And the Water Hashira, they said, was the most ill-omened of them all.
Of the current generation of Hashiras, Kamado is one of the oldest, though he’s not even a decade older than Giyuu. Kamado Tanjiro’s face still speaks of boyish youth, and even with his height and the broadness of his shoulders, and at first glance, one would assume he was Giyuu’s junior. (A perception that is in part, also affected by Giyuu himself appearing older than he is.)
“You seem upset,” the elder says. The tea he has set out for this meeting, in the warm room of a house that has been set aside for Water Breath users since before Urokodaki had learned the sword, remains untouched. Giyuu watches the steam rise from the cups as he works on his reply.
“I am not upset,” he responds, with as even a tone as possible. It sounds a little defensive, but it is true. He is not particularly averse to Kamado’s… reputation and the association to it that will no doubt arise from accepting his offer. He knows that Kamado is not a coward as the harsh rumours claim. Giyuu knows what a coward looks like, he sees one every time he looks in a mirror, and it is not a coward he sees in front of him right now. Even with the mottled scar that mars his entire upper right face, Giyuu feels no revulsion when he looks at the Hashira. Kamado Tanjiro’s entire presence feels like kindness- like the merciful rain of a dry day.
Kamado tilts his head in question and Giyuu’s face flushes when he realises how long they have been silent.
“I… believe there are better candidates for such a prestigious position.”
“Like who?”
“Sabito,” he says unhesitatingly. “Or Makomo.”
Both had the highest kill counts on the years they took the selection exam- Sabito on the same year as him and Makomo on the year prior. He had trained with both under Urokodaki and knew, unbiasedly, that they were some of the best demon slayers in their generation. Surely Kamado was aware of how Giyuu’s own skills paled in comparison to theirs.
“Yes, they’re both very good, aren’t they? I’ve heard about them from Urokodaki-san.”
Then you would have heard how inferior I am in comparison, Giyuu thinks, but he bites his tongue. It would be too close to whining. He gets ready to defend their skills, to praise the results of their hard efforts, but Kamado raises a hand.
“But in this generation, both Urokodaki and I believed you would be best suited to be the next Water Hashira.”
Kamado Tanjiro is perhaps, to a common man, too young to be selecting heirs and successors. But few demon slayers both keep at their profession and live past 30. Those who reach the end of their twenties retire into teaching, and those who don’t retire never live to see 35.
Never.
But Giyuu knows that Kamado is not choosing him to die, no- he is being chosen to lead the next generation, to put humanity one step closer to the end demons. This is praise for his skill and reward for his efforts- and Giyuu recoils.
“I think you have the wrong impression of me.”
Giyuu is suffocating. Not physically, but in his chest, at his soul, he feels himself twisting and shrinking. Why him? He’s just a disappointment, a coward. Even now, he’s running away.
Kamado does not look disappointed, or angered- but the smile does fade at the edges, and that small movement makes Giyuu feels like he has been stabbed at the heart. He is reminded, very strongly, of Urokodaki.
“Tomioka-kun,“ he says softly. “Do you hate yourself?”
Giyuu does not answer.