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It isn't the first time Giyuu has visited the Butterfly Mansion.
Visited is maybe an odd word, considering he is perhaps on the brink of death. His vision is hazy; his legs are trembling; his heart is thundering in his ears, breath shaky and unstable; and he feels this blinding, debilitating, excruciating pain in his torso and a dull ache spreading through the rest of his body, probably due to exhaustion; all handiwork of a particularly troublesome lower moon.
He shouldn't have gone to fight it alone, he now realises. Although, he much prefers this — this, as in so close to collapsing for dead — than the company of other Hashiras or demon slayers, because he cannot help but feel impossibly undeserving next to them.
Although, he should feel incompetent. Inferior. Giyuu desperately craves the feeling, like an unending addiction to an unhealthy drug that will eventually utterly destroy him.
He sincerely hopes it does.
But not before fulfilling his duty.
He remembers being stabbed by claws, the dark guise of the night surrounding them, simultaneously as he dealt the final blow to the demon. The environment was bathed in moonlight, as Giyuu had dropped to the ground, not able to hold himself up anymore.
It took him some time to stand up again, to realise he needed to get back, to report back to headquarters. Although before that, he knew he had to go to Kochou’s residence. The thought had occured to him almost instantly; the road he started towards before even registering his thoughts was in the direction of her Mansion, as if instinctual. He had bitten his lips, hard enough to bruise, to prevent any screams or howls from escaping his mouth, toughing it out as he started his trek.
As demon slayers, injuries, no matter how small or big, are commonplace and unavoidable. Although he is a Hashira, even he is hurt sometimes. Mostly light scratches, but sometimes worse.
This is one of those times. High on adrenaline, he had somehow limped his way from the neighbouring village where the demon had preyed on people — how daring of it, to have done so in an area near a Hashira residence — to the Butterfly Estate intact, and against all that is logical, he did not collapse.
“Augh—”
He may have spoken too soon.
Giyuu trips on the front stairs, falling and curling in on himself due to the impact. Gods. He somehow has enough life in him to shake, with occasional twitches in between. One of his hands grip his torso, hard, to sufficiently distract from the pain, while the other braces himself up on the top stair.
His body is taunting him, he thinks. Giyuu was able to hobble all this way, and now, on the stairs of his destination, his strength has run out? It is nothing but ironic, tragic, and of course, pathetic.
This is certainly a suitable way for him to leave the world, then; a pathetic death for a pathetic man, undeserving of his position and life.
He wants to close his eyes and sleep. He wants to give up.
And yet death is a mercy for him. Giyuu should suffer, spend the last of his days fighting demons; kill enough of them so that he can finally be worthy of living and being a Hashira. So that Sabito’s death wouldn't be in vain. So that—
He should've just died then, he offhandedly thinks before his vision blacks out. It flickers, in and out of focus, black, then in color, and then again lacking in them.
Suddenly, he shivers due to foreign contact; he feels hands on him, soft, yet calloused palms pulling him up and a faraway voice. “Tomioka-san? Tomioka-san, stay with me, okay? Can you hear me? I'm right…”
The voice is frantic. Shaky. Familiar.
He can distinguish multiple disjointed ones actually, one of them barking commands. He thinks he is being carried, phantom sensations around him as his eyelids flutter open and shut. Light filters in through his retina in short breaks, and it's… overwhelming, if he is honest.
Kochou, his brain abruptly supplies.
“Ko… chou?” He blurts out, voice breathy and almost inaudible. He can see her face, not clearly, but a distorted shape. It appears worried, and yet she is still smiling, albeit a strained one. Her purple eyes gaze down at him, and Giyuu reaches a hand out, to check if this is real or one of his daydreams, fantasies conjured up by his addled brain, too lacking in blood. “Ko—Kochou,” he repeats, like a mantra.
“Yes,” she says, confirming his theory. “I'm right here, Tomioka-san.”
He hears her words clear as day, a beacon of light among the other hazy images and the darkness. Kochou.
As soon as he realises that she is here, solid and very much not an apparition or hallucination since he has now made sure of her presence, he knows he will live.
Somehow, somewhere, he will live. Giyuu doesn't know if this is a good or bad thing.
He places his utmost trust in the Insect Pillar. Not because they're close in any way, but because he knows his judgement is sound, and well-placed. Kochou is an expert with medicine and the like, and there is perhaps not a single person more skilled at healing than she is. This is the result of years of practice and research, and he has personally seen her display her skills many times; both in the calm of the Butterfly Mansion, or the hectic mess that is the battlefield.
Kochou herself is a force to be reckoned with. Her unique breathing style, attuned to her, is deadly and precise, and yet impossibly elegant. She has fell too many demons to count, all while smiling. Even when inhuman flesh is melting and oozing in front of her into a pile of nothing, she does not even flinch. He respects her, really. Although she has a small stature and weak physicality, she had persisted on, taking the role of her older sister and becoming a Hashira. Not to further mention her aptitude for medicine and poison. She is scary, in that way. Her steely determination is commendable, and while everyone says she's undeserving, he thinks — no, he knows otherwise.
He is the one who is actually undeserving.
He isn't sure what's happening, but he thinks first aid is being administered. His chest is pressed down multiple times, hard enough to break his ribs maybe, and it stings, but he cannot feel it; a faraway sensation.
The sheets beneath him are soft. He may be in the infirmary of the Butterfly Estate, he surmises. Trying to open his eyes, he catches flashes of white and brown, the ceiling of the aforementioned room that he is sort of familiar with.
He slowly regains his bearings. Everything starts to make sense again, and his brain works overtime to make up for the gap in consciousness, information being transmitted throughout his nerve system at top speeds.
Kochou's face appears before him yet again, expression perplexed, focused. She is so clearly in her element that it shows. In her hand are strings and a needle; stitches? Is the wound really so bad that it requires stitches?
He cannot help but admire her at the moment. She looks majestic, right at home.
Her touch is gentle as she presses and prods at areas around his stomach to figure out what's wrong. He doesn't deserve this — doesn't deserve even a fraction of her careful treatment. He should be handled roughly, as if he is lucky to be alive, which he is. If he is still breathing, he should suffer; life should be unbearable. It's what he deserves.
He has not been touched like this in so long, so gently and—
She presses at a spot that causes him to flinch. He unwittingly screams, and instantly feels a hand hold him down. Her hand. Her soft, yet calloused palms—
The physical contact is unfamiliar, save for earlier, but he lets the warmth from her skin bleed into his, seeping into his very depths. It feels… nice. Somewhat.
“It's okay,” Kochou whispers, voice schooled into a soothing cadence. He leans into it, despite his mind telling him not to. Don't let anyone in. Don't reach out. “I'll fix it. You've lost a lot of blood, Tomioka-san. It's a miracle you were able to even walk here. It's normal to be in a lot of pain,” she continues.
He huffs out a deep breath, shuddering while doing so. It hurts. He tries to talk, but his body screams at him not to, to not even try anything.
Giyuu discovers his body, contrary to his head, is very much adamant in staying alive. Again, he doesn't know if this is a good or bad thing.
“We've stopped the bleeding. Something was affecting your blood flow. A poison — it wouldn't let your blood clot and just sped up the bleeding,” Kochou explains, “I'll need to stitch the wound up and feed you an antidote. It won't have any lasting effects, but it will leave a scar.”
Poison? No wonder a mere stab wound had affected him so much.
Her voice is a calm presence. It lulls him into a sense of safety, because he knows he is safe in her care. Her tone, cheery and smug, is also tainted with a smidge of worry, he notices, and Giyuu takes a ridiculous and unwarranted sense of pride in it.
No, stop. Don't worry about me.
It feels nice to have somebody else worry for you, he knows. And that's exactly why he doesn't deserve it.
Giyuu feels the sharp sting of a needle around the wound and oh—
Giyuu screams again.
His hands ball at his sides, clutching the sheets for dear life. They crease under his grip, and the texture distracts him from the pain.
This is nothing. As demon slayers, this — the pain — is normal.
“Not so silent now, are we, Tomioka-san?”
He grunts in reply, too tired to say anything else. Not that he would otherwise.
It doesn't take long, but it is drawn-out. After setting down her tools, Kochou soothingly runs her hands through his hair, and it feels so warm, so comfortable, that he melts. Embarrassingly, he pushes his head into her warmth, much like a cat; a comparison his brain makes up unwillingly.
Every action of his and every thought that flashes through his mind — for example, the urge to ask her to stay — in her presence at the moment somehow occurs without his explicit permission, actually.
He doesn't know how much time has passed. He is starting to feel better, somewhat, but he is still utterly tired, and his body feels like lead. Dead weight. He doesn't know if he can move right now, and Giyuu does not want to find out or even try.
She pulls away soon, saying, “Give me a moment. I need to figure out the antidote.”
And all he can think is: he doesn't deserve this, and don’t leave.
Kochou is gone, and with her, her hand disappears as well, much to his chagrin.
“Drink this.” After a while, a cup is shoved into his mouth, and he greedily swallows the liquid inside. His throat is impossibly dry, so it quells his thirst for now.
“It's the antidote to the poison. I think it should work. Let me know if you feel any discomfort.”
The medicine flows through his veins, supposedly cleansing the poisonous impurities present. He finds he feels no different than before he drank it. Perhaps it was a slow-acting poison.
“Rest up, okay? It's best you sleep. It'll help to expel the poison from your system and rapidly quicken your healing process.”
He nods. Giyuu is sensible, so he will most likely do just that.
She chatters on, as Kochou does. “You're insane, Tomioka-san. How in gods’ name did you walk all the way to the Butterfly Estate without dying? You would've probably been found dead beside the road because of the risk you took,” she scolds. He says nothing. “Losing a Pillar now would be detrimental.”
A heavy quiet falls upon them. Giyuu usually relies on her to fill whatever gap that develops between them during their shared missions and Hashira meetings, but in rare cases such as this, she does not say a word. She is still sitting beside him on the bed, mattress weighed down by the force. His eyes rove over to her, where he can only make out her outline; Giyuu is lying down and can barely see Kochou. The only sound is his ragged breathing, quiet and haggard.
“Ko—Kochou,” he says with great effort, breaking the silence for once. “Thank you.”
Her smile grows wider by just a little. Indiscernible, but he sees the change. “You're welcome. Now, Tomioka-san, go to sleep. You need to heal fast so you can go back into action. Remember, the final battle is fast-approaching.”
Giyuu obeys, nodding and closing his eyes, drifting further and further away from consciousness. The antidote likely had a sleep-inducing effect.
Yes, it's most likely the antidote. Not the fact that he feels comfortable, safe or cared for.
Before completely disappearing into slumber, he feels a hand caress his cheek. Rough, and yet soft, again. Giyuu nuzzles into it.
“Stay,” he whispers despite himself, despite all coherent thought. He regrets it immediately after.
Perhaps he is not of sound mind yet; at least, that is his excuse for his behavior.
A melancholic look graces her face, and Giyuu wants to say something; to take back his earlier plea, or correct it, but he knows anything he adds now will only make it worse. So he stays quiet.
To his relief, Kochou does stay, yet she doesn't utter a word.
He can allow himself one small joy. It will make him miss the warmth even more when it is gone, he reasons.