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The beach is a common place people visit. It's where you can let out your worries and relax, and the shore will calmly wash them away for you.
Maybe that's why he's so attributed to Water Breathing.
The ocean holds memories. So long as you stay grounded on the sand, you can dip your feet in the waves and reminisce about the old times.
Maybe that's why he finds comfort in the vast sea.
However, if you go too far, you'll find yourself in a harsh storm, drowning and unable to find stability. You'll be trapped in the unrelenting waters.
Maybe that's why he tends to wander too far into the ocean.
He simply cannot forget the past, to the point where he forgets his place in the present.
Of course, he doesn't have amnesia like the Mist Hashira.
He's more—how do you put this—absent-minded. He has no grip on reality.
The Water Hashira has strayed too far into the sea and can't find anyone—anything to ground himself.
He's lost.
He's lost in his memories—lost in the deep waters—lost in the way to find himself once more.
He doesn't expect anyone to understand how he feels; it was his decision, above all. But maybe deep down, he desperately pleaded for someone—anyone to help.
It's a dangerous game he plays, but he has no option not to.
Because after everything, who would live to tell their story?
Aside from him, who would live to tell their unfinished tale?
Aside from him, who would live to tell the world of their bright smiles, their infectious laughs, their unyielding determination, or even how beautiful they were for loving their lives?
Aside from him, who would live to tell everyone they existed in the first place?
He's drowning in this thunderstorm because he simply cannot leave.
He treads the water in one single spot, unable to advance toward the shore or go any deeper.
Because if he goes back, would his effort to remember them be all for naught?
But if he's gone too far to be saved, what more left of him would there be?
He would be an empty shell of a person, trapped in the forgotten past.
If he could never become free from the mental chains bounding him and the heavy burdens he's shouldering, he figures it wouldn't hurt to indulge himself.
And so, he does.
He travels way back to the times when they were simple-mindedly training and unaware of the weight of the world they had to carry, merely enjoying life as it was.
He smiles at their innocent joy, but he knows it could never be permanent because they were already gone.
He was the only survivor among them.
He hates himself for not being there to save them.
And he knows that what's happened is all in the past now; he knows it could never be his fault.
But a small part of him just can't help but blame himself for being so useless.
He wishes he could have done something—anything.
But what could he have done when fate betrays him so?
He's filled with grief.
He's reminded of them in every sight he sees, in his dreams on the days he could fall asleep, having been plagued with nightmares ever since, in everything he does and experiences.
It's been years, and he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up.
He's exhausted. He just wants everything to end.
He misses them. He misses them too much.
It's been too long.
He can't even remember what they look like now.
Is it even worth it to continue this? When everything seems to fade out? When nothing seems to make sense anymore?
He doesn't know. He never does.
Everything is just a blur—a morphed up blob and fragments of memories.
He wonders if it would be okay to stop.
Would he be reunited with them, if he did?
It's tempting, he admits.
But the thought of meeting them in his current state is laughable, and it reminds him to keep struggling.
He can't give up by himself, but he wishes someone would do it for him; he prays to whatever god out there something would end him in his sleep.
He's drowning, and the bubbles are starting to become ever so rare.
He can't keep this up for much longer.
But he tries, for them. It's always all for them.
And so, as the Sun rises day by day, Tomioka Giyuu lives to see another morning.