Chapter Text
Giyuu doesn’t know the outdoors very well. Obviously, he knows about the trees and clouds and little birds that show up on the tower’s ledge occasionally. But he didn’t know what the grass felt like. Or what creatures lived beyond the walls he was raised in. The way he’d been basically imprisoned was cruel in itself.
His earliest memories were of gray walls closed windows. He used to cry about missing out on the outside world, but soon learned begging would get him nowhere.
He had nothing to do beyond caring for his (frankly ridiculous) 20 yards of hair and humming to himself. He had to clean his tower often, stopping every now and then at the windows, staring longingly at the vine covered exit nestled in the rocks. Giyuu dreamed of running away often. The urge to escape was tempting him more and more by the day.
However, there was one major setback to all his careful planning: his…”caretaker.”
He was a terrifying man with razor blades for teeth who wore strictly dark clothing, usually suits. His hair was dark and fairly long. Though, not nearly as long as Giyuu’s. The man’s red eyes reminded him of nothing more than blood. He towered over Giyuu, menacingly submerging him in the depths of his shadow. He called himself Muzan Kibutsuji.
Muzan often warned Giyuu as a child of what lied beyond the rocks. Ugly men with pitchforks and torches, waiting for a pretty boy like Giyuu to maim. He said they were terrifying and warped with blood crusted finger nails. Muzan repeatedly used the word scary when describing them. All Giyuu could do is listen and bitterly think, scarier than you?
Not every day was unbearable though. Sometimes, Muzan would leave to fetch something or just depart for the heck of it (it felt like he was taunting Giyuu). He left in a big straw hat and multiple cloaks. He returned in the same attire he left with, even if he was gone multiple days. It got boring trying to figure out where he went the older he bacame, so Giyuu and Kanzaburo, his old crow companion, did other things.
Kanzaburo arrived one day in a flurry of feathers, raindrops, and squawking. Giyuu was young, around six years old, desperate for a friend who wasn’t stoic and three times his age. They bonded rather quickly when the sapphire eyed boy comforted the raggedy bird, doing everything together. Muzan never found out. While Giyuu found solace in painting and reading to express himself, he was infinitely thankful for the new company. The old crow would often visit him, bringing leaves and nuts he had scavenged.
When Muzan came back from his travels Giyuu would help him up the tower by using his hair as a pulley. When he was first learning how to do this, his scalp tingled and his eyes watered. Now, it was fairly easier with years of practice under his belt. Every night, Muzan would sit on an old, painted rocking chair and beckon Giyuu closer. He brought out a hairbrush and drug it through his long, ink colored strands, telling the younger boy to close his eyes. They never said anything during this time, just silent bonding, almost. The thought made Giyuu uncomfortable along with the silence. The first time Giyuu ever tried making a noise, he began with humming a low tune in the back of his throat, something he made up as a child. It made Muzan pause. It was subtle, but enough to push Giyuu to open his eyes.
His hair, every foot of it, glowed a strong blue light. It fascinated him. He knew it interested Muzan as well. Maybe this was why he would offer to brush it every night? Giyuu watched, breathless, as the room was bathed in blue light, casting shadows like spells to dance across the walls. It looked like he was under water. A sense of pride settled in his chest knowing that he had done this..
Giyuu went to bed with images of dancers and make believe oceans behind his eyes.
~~~
Giyuu woke up cold and with a sharp prodding at the back of his skull. With a groan, he covered the tender spot with a heavy hand. “Leave me alone, would you?” He grumbled. An indignant squawk was the only answer he was given in return. He sighed and turned over.
“Did I seriously leave the window open?” His bleary eyes traveled across the room and found the topic of discussion. The shutters were wide open, curtains slowly swaying with the pleasant breeze. Giyuu decided to give up on sleeping any longer.
He sat up with a yawn and stretched his tired muscles, listening with satisfaction as his joints popped. He rubbed the dreariness out of his sapphire eyes and threw the covers off of him. Kanzaburo huffed and flew out of the way.
Giyuu learned that Muzan was gone during his short trek into the kitchen. His door was closed, as always, but the bolt was not turned so it was unlocked. It was always left unlocked when he was gone. Giyuu never entered anyway. He grabbed an apple and chose to get his day started early. For such a small secluded tower they lived in, it was so dirty all the time. Giyuu had to sweep the floors, dust the sills and rafters, and mop messes (probably left from Muzan, the jerk) left on the tile. Kanzaburo helped Giyuu by grabbing chunks of his hair and lifting them out of the path he created trying to clean.
He spent a frustratingly long 30 minutes trying to brush out all his hair then went back to the kitchen to find something to give Kanzaburo as a reward for helping. Giyuu gave the crow some seeds he stashed in the very back of a cupboard. Brushing his hair felt like such a difficult task, leaving him sweating and his muscles straining. He had to shuck off a layer of clothing in his struggles, leaving in an undershirt and some paint stained pants.
Finally, with all the chores out of the way, he had time to do what he enjoyed the most: painting.
Giyuu pulled out a box of acrylics he practically begged Muzan to get him for his 12th birthday. They were his pride and joy-his only possession Giyuu could truly call his own. As he held his palette and one of his brushes, he tried to decide where to locate his newest creation. There was a large section of wall covered with curtains and a mantle piece. That would work.
Giyuu used his hair to pull himself up the ledge and pushed the wood out of the way. With a breath and a nod, he set off to work.
The way brush traveled across the wall was almost therapeutic. Watching his creations come to live, Giyuu lost himself in the path of his artwork.
It took him from noon to dusk until he finished. He knew he should have stopped, his muscles screamed in discomfort and his neck had a slight throbbing in it. His face and clothes were splattered with paint of varying colors. To him, though, the result was worth the wait and the pain.
It was his favorite work yet. Probably his best, too.
The piece depicted a blueish purple sky and a thousand stars. An audience of trees sat silently observing the view. On one of those observers sat Giyuu, his long hair cascading behind him in a waterfall of black. He gazed longingly into the night sky, watching the stars glow.
It showed his yearning and true inner feelings. Giyuu wanted nothing more than to disobey Muzan and go beyond the valley. The thought was thrilling and terrifying, but so right—he knew nothing other than the safe haven he grew up in. But leaving grew more appealing by the day.
Just as Giyuu was about finished praising his work, a shout was heard from behind him:
“Giyuu, I’ve returned!”