Chapter Text
Mitsuri Pov:
The Hashira meetings were always a strange mix of serious discussions and tense silences. I remember one time when Sanemi and Tengen got into a shouting match about the best way to deal with a clever demon. Their voices echoed through the hall until Himejima stepped in, his calm demeanor quickly ending the argument. Scenes like that weren’t unusual, which made today’s quiet atmosphere even more unsettling. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t just empty—it was charged, like the air before a storm. Everyone seemed to sense it, their movements and words slower, as though afraid to disturb whatever was lurking beneath the surface. It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Even the sunlight streaming through the shoji screens seemed duller, as though it didn’t want to intrude.
I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on Giyu. He was standing in his usual spot in the corner, arms crossed, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. Honestly, he reminded me of a lonely cat—silent, distant, but oddly endearing. The thought made me smile.
That’s when it happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Giyu’s leg lift—smooth and precise, like a cat stretching. My eyes widened as my thoughts scrambled to understand what I saw. Was I dreaming? No, it was real—too real. The controlled motion, the strange elegance of it, made me wonder if I’d wandered into some kind of bizarre daydream. My brain stalled, struggling to process what I had just seen. For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. But no, it was real. His movements were graceful and deliberate, almost mesmerizing in their strangeness. Then, to my complete shock, he began scratching his neck with his foot. Not a small, subtle scratch, but a full, deliberate one.
“Huh?” I whispered to myself, blinking rapidly to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Was this some kind of new technique? A breathing form I didn’t know about?
I couldn’t hold back a giggle. It bubbled up so fast that I barely had time to cover my mouth. Obanai, sitting closest to me, shot me a sharp look.
“What’s so funny?” he hissed, his mismatched eyes narrowing.
“I-I think…” I pointed toward Giyu, trying to suppress another giggle. “I think Giyu just scratched himself with his foot! Like, with the precision of a cat! Who even does that? For a second, I thought he wasn’t human. Maybe he’s some kind of demon-cat hybrid we missed this whole time. It’s so bizarre I can’t decide if it’s funny or worrying!”
The room fell silent. Completely silent.
“What?” Sanemi barked, his voice rough with disbelief. “What are you talking about, Love Pillar?”
“I saw it!” I said, my voice rising in defense. “He lifted his leg, like a cat, and scratched his neck. With his foot!”
Rengoku laughed, his voice booming with dramatic flair. “Mitsuri, your imagination knows no limits! Giyu, acting like a feline? Preposterous! Next, you’ll tell me he’s secretly a shapeshifter!"
“It’s true!” I crossed my arms, pouting. “I swear I saw it. Giyu, tell them!”
All eyes turned to Giyu. He blinked, his face as blank as ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“See?” Sanemi growled. “You’re making things up.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but then it happened again.
This time, everyone saw it. Giyu, right in the middle of Shinobu’s report about demon activity, lifted his leg and scratched his neck. He did it so calmly like it was the most normal thing in the world. A collective gasp filled the room. Tengen choked on his breath, leaning forward to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Rengoku’s laugh rang out again, this time more startled than cheerful. Sanemi slammed his hand on the table, his voice rising in disbelief. Even Himejima’s calm expression cracked as he blinked slowly, trying to process what he had just seen. The absurdity of it froze everyone in place.
“What in the actual—” Tengen’s voice trailed off, his eyes wide. He leaned forward, squinting. “Did I…did I drink something weird this morning?”
“…Giyu, are you…okay?” Shinobu asked. Her usual teasing tone was gone, replaced by genuine concern.
Giyu paused mid-scratch, his foot hovering near his neck. He slowly lowered his leg and looked at us, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?!” Sanemi exploded, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You just scratched your neck like a damn cat! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Giyu said evenly. “Can we move on?”
But no one moved on. The Hashira exchanged confused looks, the tension in the room now replaced by bewilderment—and a little bit of poorly concealed amusement. Even Himejima raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe it’s a new stress-relief technique?” Rengoku suggested, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “Very creative, Giyu! Care to teach us?”
Giyu sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. For a moment, it seemed like he might explain. Instead, he turned and walked toward the door.
“Meeting adjourned,” he said quietly, leaving us in stunned silence.
As the door slid shut behind him, I couldn’t help but wonder: was Giyu always this mysterious, or was something else going on? A part of me wanted to laugh it off as just another one of his quirks, but the way he acted today felt deliberate. Was there some hidden reason, or were we just seeing a side of him we didn’t know existed? Whatever it was, I felt this was only the beginning of something much stranger. Today’s meeting won’t be forgotten anytime soon.
Sanemi Pov:
That meeting was supposed to be another waste of time, like usual. We’d sit around, talk about demons, argue, and go our separate ways. Standard stuff. But no, today had to be different because Giyu decided to act like some damn stray cat.
At first, I thought Mitsuri was just imagining things again. But then I saw it. Giyu actually lifted his leg and scratched his neck with his foot.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” I said, my voice louder than I meant. The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at Giyu like he had grown a second head.
The guy didn’t even try to explain himself. He just stood there with that blank face and said, “I’m fine.” Fine? Really? Like scratching yourself like a cat in the middle of a meeting is totally normal.
I felt my blood boiling. “You just scratched your neck like a damn cat!” I yelled, pointing at him. “Are you serious right now?”
And what did he do? He ignored me. Just walked off like nothing happened. I looked around, expecting someone else to back me up. But no, everyone looked as dumbfounded as I felt. Even Rengoku, who usually found a silver lining in anything, couldn’t make sense of it.
“Stress-relief technique?” Rengoku finally said, trying to spin it positively. It was so ridiculous that it almost made me laugh if I hadn’t already been so annoyed. How could anyone take this seriously? The guy had just acted like a stray cat in the middle of a meeting, and here Rengoku was, trying to make it sound like a self-help method. It made my blood boil even more.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My fists clenched so tightly that the veins in my hands stood out. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered, pacing to try and shake off the frustration. When Giyu adjourned the meeting and walked out, I felt both relieved and irritated. Relieved because I didn’t have to watch him pull another stunt. Irritated because now I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
As the others started leaving, I stayed behind, trying to figure it out. Was he sick? Under some kind of demon spell? Or was he just messing with us? None of it made sense. Yet, there was something in how he left, almost like he knew exactly what he was doing and didn’t want us to figure it out—at least, not yet.
I clenched my fists again, staring at the door he’d walked through. “This isn’t over, Tomioka,” I muttered. Whatever his deal was, I was going to get to the bottom of it—even if it drove me insane.
Rengoku's Pov:
As everyone shuffled out of the meeting room, I couldn’t shake the curiosity buzzing in my chest. Giyu’s odd behavior was unusual, yes, but there was something oddly captivating about it. My mind swirled with possibilities as I found myself following him down the hall. Surely, there was some explanation for this strange, feline-like demeanor. Perhaps he had a good reason.
“Giyu!” I called, my voice echoing through the corridor. He didn’t stop, nor did he turn to look at me. It was as though he hadn’t heard me, which only piqued my curiosity further. Quietly, I quickened my pace to close the distance between us.
When I rounded a corner, I saw him in the courtyard. At first, he stood still, staring blankly at the sky. Then, to my utter shock, he crouched down. My eyes widened as I watched him lick the palm of his hand—a slow, deliberate motion. My breath hitched. “What is he doing?” I whispered to myself.
Before I could rationalize it, he began rubbing his now-wet hand against his head. The motion was so cat-like, so unnervingly natural, that I froze in place.
“What the…?” The words escaped me before I could stop them. Giyu’s head snapped in my direction, his usual unreadable expression firmly in place. For a long, awkward moment, neither of us said anything.
Finally, I managed to speak, my voice a mix of confusion and forced cheer. “Tomioka! That’s a rather…unique way of grooming yourself. Care to share your inspiration?”
He said nothing. Instead, he stood, dusted off his uniform, and walked past me without a word. The silence he left in his wake was deafening.
I stood there for a moment, my mind racing to make sense of what I’d just seen. “What in the world…” I muttered, shaking my head. It seemed the mystery of Tomioka Giyu had only deepened.
I followed his retreating figure for a moment longer, unsure whether I should let it go or dig deeper. “Tomioka, wait!” I called, but he didn’t pause. This time, however, I noticed something peculiar—his shoulders twitched slightly, as if he had overheard me but decided to pretend otherwise. The deliberate calmness of his steps made me feel like I was chasing after a phantom.
I returned to the courtyard, still replaying the bizarre scene. His behavior wasn’t just odd—it bordered on animalistic. Could this be some sort of stress response? Perhaps a side effect of overwork or a secret training method we weren’t aware of? The thought lingered as I crouched where he had been moments before. The faint outline of his handprint in the dirt was still visible. “Strange,” I muttered again, shaking my head.
Over the next few days, I couldn’t get the image of Giyu’s actions out of my mind. During missions, during meals, and even in moments of quiet reflection, his strange, feline-like demeanor haunted me. Was this the beginning of something larger, or was Tomioka simply…different? One thing was certain: this wasn’t the end of the mystery.