Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shinobu Kochou did not want to be a Hashira. 

She promised her sister that they would slay demons like Gyomei Himejima would. They wanted to save people from the same fate that they had suffered. 

Shinobu can do that without being a Hashira because her sister would be one, and she would be there beside her. She would weaken those goddamn demons, and Kanae would slice their heads off with the sharp end of her blade. 

It was a promise she kept when she was barely eleven. Kanae was fourteen.

Soon, that promise would be granted when Kanae became a Hashira at the age of sixteen. Shinobu would be thirteen. 

“Are you sure I should come, nee-chan?” Shinobu asked, nervously stepping inside the Ubuyashiki Mansion. Today was Kanae’s official initiation as Hashira, and they had been summoned. Shinobu preferred waiting by the Butterfly Mansion, but her sister had other plans. 

“You helped me slay that Lower Moon, Shinobu. You share this honor with me,” Kanae responded with a smile. “Master extended the invitation to you as well. We must honor it.” 

With the mention of the Oyakata, Shinobu knew this discussion had reached its end. She kept quiet as she followed her sister to the heart of the mountain—to the mansion where wisteria trees were in full bloom and stone lanterns were lit despite the sun being high up in the sky. 

She would notice the footsteps they would leave, how significantly bigger her sister’s were compared to hers. It never bothered her at all, but it was a vivid reminder of her limitations. 

Soon, Kakushis welcomed them by the entrance, while another announced their arrival. The rest of the Hashiras were already there, Himejima included. 

“Kanae,” Ubuyashiki called, and then he would turn to her, “and Shinobu. Thank you for being here.” 

Such benevolence urged Shinobu to bow her head. She could never look the Oyakata in the eye. Instead, Kanae replied on their behalf. “Thank you for having us, Oyakata-sama. How have you been?”

“I feel fine lately, Kanae. Seeing you all alive and well greatly relieves me.”  

While Kanae proceeded to join the Hashiras in front, Shinobu stayed at the side. Again, she didn’t mind. Her heart swelled in happiness and pride to have her sister stand on the same level as Gyomei Himejima. It was a great honor to see Kanae be the person they needed the night their parents were slaughtered by demons. 

Shinobu thought that this was fine. 

“We’re still waiting for one more person,” Ubuyashiki said. 

Shinobu soon heard the crinkling sound of zori sandals stepping against the lush grass behind her, urging her to turn around and see a young man no older than her sister. He was in a standard demon slayer uniform with a haori split down the middle into two contrasting halves. He had deep blue eyes and long, black, unruly hair tied into a ponytail. 

He was a bit attractive. If only he didn’t seem too sullen. 

“Welcome, Giyuu. How was your trip? I do apologize for calling you while you were on a mission in Kyoto,” Ubuyashiki greeted. 

Shinobu realized she was staring. She shifted her gaze back to the front—back to their master. Kanae must’ve caught it with how she threw a small smile at her. Shinobu ignored it. 

“Please don’t apologize, Oyakata-sama,” this man named Giyuu replied as he bowed his head. “I apologize for my tardiness. I came late.” 

“You came on time. Please have a seat.” 

He passed by Shinobu, gaze kept straight, and face indifferent. He didn’t regard the other Hashiras as her sister did. Likewise, he only did as told and joined the rest of the lot, staying at the furthest end. 

Shinobu’s first thought was that he seemed lonely. 

“Kanae, Giyuu, both of you are outstanding individuals. Will you two support the Demon Slayers as part of the Hashira from now on?” 

Shinobu remembered this moment. She remembered how Kanae’s smile was bright and endearing as she replied a dignified yes. It was a stark contrast to Giyuu’s, who was low and solemn, like he didn’t want that kind of honor, but bowed his head and accepted it anyway. 

The rest were formalities in which areas were assigned under their command and sightings of the Twelve Demon Moons. Since Kanae and Giyuu killed two of the lower moons, replacements were bound to happen. 

When Ubuyashiki dismissed them, Giyuu turned and left, sparing no words, much to the Sound Hashira’s dislike. “What an unflamboyant man.” 

Himejima would go to them, offer his congratulations, and also leave for his assigned place. “Congratulations are in order. However, missions will be much more difficult, Kanae. Please exercise more caution.” 

Shinobu could understand where Himejima was coming from. No Hashira had killed an Upper Moon for the last century, while they had killed many of theirs. They had to be more careful. 

“Are you curious, Shinobu?” Kanae asked when they were finally alone. “About Tomioka-san.” 

“Who?” 

“The Water Hashira.” 

Shinobu blinked slowly, face giving off a curt no. Giyuu Tomioka should be the same age as her older sister. If there was anything she’d be interested in, it would be the wisteria trees in the Oyakata’s mansion. 

“I think he’s a great man, Shinobu.” Although she had shared a promise with Kanae to slay demons, her sister was transparent in her wish for a normal life for her. She would nudge her slightly like this. A harmless teasing and a useless basis for a crush. 

“Nee-chan, please stop.” Shinobu wouldn’t have it. If Kanae slays demons, then she will too. Even if she couldn’t directly do it. 

“Stop? I’m only praising Tomioka-san. I’ve seen him fight, Shinobu. He’s fast and lethal.” 

“It’s a given. He’s a Hashira now.” 

“I think he’s faster than you.” 

Shinobu paused and stared at her sister’s back. Whatever she was doing, she disliked it. “Nee-chan.” 

“Alright. I’ll stop.” 

“Thank you.” 

“For now.” Kanae winked and continued walking, grabbing her hand as they descended the mountain. 

Silently, as she followed her sister’s footsteps by sundown, Shinobu made a personal promise to keep Kanae alive. No matter what it takes. 

Shinobu Kochou kept all the promises she shared with Kanae. However, there was one she couldn’t. 

“… Shinobu, I’m sorry…” 

Kanae Kochou died in her arms at the tender age of seventeen. Shinobu was only fourteen, and she had lost another one of her family. 

Time came by in a blur after she held her sister’s cold body. One moment, blood from Kanae’s haori soaked hers. And then, she would see the Oyakata bowing his head as he offered his condolences. 

With their aid, Shinobu managed to arrange her sister’s funeral and burial. Friends and colleagues came by. She could see how many people had loved Kanae, whether they were demon slayers or normal civilians. 

Kanao Tsuyuri, an orphan they adopted, had accompanied Shinobu while she grieved. She used to think the quiet kid had no inkling for swordsmanship, but just like Kanae, Kanao was gifted with the blade. So, Shinobu thought that maybe Kanao could inherit Kanae’s breathing style.

She knew, somewhat, that Kanao grieved in her own way. She wouldn't have stayed by her side if she didn't. 

And because a lot of other people grieved for Kanae, Shinobu didn’t find it in herself to show her anger. Her vulnerability. 

Uzui came with his wives and helped with the proceedings. Himejima headed the prayer and ceremony. Ubuyashiki personally came with his entire family. And the newly appointed Wind Pillar, Sanemi Shinazugawa, actually consoled her when he got the chance. 

“Kochou,” he said with a rough voice but with a touch of sadness. “I’m sorry… for your loss.” He was one of the first Hashira to arrive, and one of those who stayed until the end. He visited the Butterfly Mansion whenever he had the time, and he would always bring homemade ohagi for them. 

Kanae was fond of the reckless Sanemi. Shinobu knew that, given how she frequently spoke about him as well. “I’m sorry as well, Shinazugawa-san.” 

Sanemi gave her a small, pained smile and patted her head. “You’re too sharp for your age,” he said, before joining Uzui and Himejima on the side. 

Shinobu stayed outside, keeping herself busy with those who wanted to share their sympathies. If she did nothing, she’d be reminded of Kanae’s dying words. She’d be reminded of a promise she couldn’t keep, and she’d be reminded of the anger swelling in her chest.

A group of demon slayers stood from afar, whispering amongst themselves as they thought they were out of earshot. “She’s quite fortunate, isn’t she? The little Kochou.” 

Shinobu flinched slightly. She heard them call her fortunate to be able to do a proper send-off for Kanae. Most demon slayers didn’t have a body left to mourn for. And the title? Little Kochou. It was simply an insult. 

An insult to her physique. 

An insult to her abilities. 

An insult that was true.

“That’s rude of you.” The stern voice of Giyuu Tomioka pierced through their nerves. They stood still, shocked to have been heard by the Water Pillar. Shinobu turned her cheek and stared blankly at the scene. “Do you have no ounce of honor for your fallen comrade? Kanae Kochou is dead, and you call her sister fortunate?” 

“T-Tomioka-sama,” they stuttered, bowing. “W-We humbly apologize! We didn’t mea—” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” he interrupted, turning his back toward them as he faced Shinobu. “Apologize to her.” 

The demon slayers fretted, running and apologizing to her until they groveled on the floor. Shinobu looked at them, and then at Giyuu. It was the first time she had seen him after the Hashira meeting a year ago. He really did have deep blue eyes comparable to his breathing style, as Kanae once said. 

Then, with a small tweak of her lips, Shinobu smiled. “I do admit, I am fortunate that I was able to retrieve my sister’s body, but that doesn’t change the reality that she’s dead.” The demon slayers shivered at her tone. It was unlike the strict little sister they knew. “So, please do your best to slay as many demons as you can. Slay them on my sister’s behalf.” 

She let them off the hook. Kanae would, too. 

They bowed in thanks with a bit more apology and then glanced at the Water Hashira before they left. Giyuu paid them no mind as he kept his gaze on Shinobu’s, his expression blank. 

They were left in a stalemate for a few seconds, then he exhaled, bowed his head, and said, “My condolences, Kochou.” 

Shinobu tipped her head and smiled softly. “Will you be going inside, Tomioka-san? Himejima-san and Uzui-san are there.” 

Giyuu silently considered it. 

“Shinazugawa-san is there, too.” 

Then he turned his back to the front entrance, unwilling to enter. “I finished what I came for.” 

“Is that so?” Shinobu glanced at Sanemi and him. She guessed they didn’t get along. “Pray to tell, what could that be?” 

Giyuu fell silent for a few seconds. His attention briefly went to her clenched knuckle hidden beneath her sister’s haori. “You.” 

Shinobu dropped her smile, genuinely caught off guard. “Me?” 

The hilt of his sword clunked on his belt buckle as he turned to look at her properly. “You can stop smiling. No one is here but me.” 

The facade she wore broke into pieces. Puzzled, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. How did he know?

“I know what it feels like,” he consoled despite his placid expression. “You can be angry, Kochou.” 

That was all he said before he gave Kanae’s memorial one last glance and left. His body disappeared into the street, leaving only the sounds of ruffling leaves and faint footsteps. 

Shinobu stood outside until he was completely gone. His words rang inside her mind. 

“You can be angry, Kochou.” 

The warm morning breeze brushed slightly against the hems of her clothes. Shinobu closed her eyes and smiled genuinely. “Tomioka-san is an odd man, isn’t he, nee-chan?” 

“Are you curious, Shinobu? About Tomioka-san.” 

Maybe, perhaps, a little. 

Shinobu Kochou, now with the absence of her sister, became the first Insect Hashira at the age of sixteen—a breathing style she invented to accommodate her expertise in wisteria poison. 

The Butterfly Mansion had been passed down to her ownership. She would follow the way Kanae tended to the injured demon slayers, and soon, she would be the main healer of the whole corps. 

Despite Kanae’s passing, Shinobu never truly felt alone. She had Kanao, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho with her. A few months came by, and she welcomed a female demon slayer named Aoi, a Water Breather user who wanted to quit from the frontline. 

Aoi had her reasons. Shinobu could understand. When her tsugukos perished in battles, she even urged Kanao to resign. 

Kanao would stare back at her and press her lips to a thin line. It was the only time Kanao would decide for herself, and Shinobu would drop the question altogether. 

Visitors would come as well, mostly injured ones. Himejima visited at least once every month, while Shinazugawa would drop by and share ohagi once every three months. Oyakata-sama would habitually send her letters, and once again, Kochou would feel treasured despite Kanae’s absence. 

“Kochou-sama, this needs your attention,” Aoi called for her, sliding the door to her laboratory open. 

Shinobu stopped grinding wisteria powder in her mortar, attention taken away. “What is it, Aoi?” 

“We have an injured man by the gate.” 

She quirked a brow. “Then tell the kakushis to bring him to bed.” 

“That’s the problem, Kochou-sama. He doesn’t want to be brought to bed.” 

Shinobu turned back to her craft. “That’s not the first time this has happened, Aoi. Let the kakushis handle it.” 

“But it is! They’re too scared.” 

“Scared?” She left her seat, genuinely curious. “Who is it?” 

Aoi nervously glanced at the hallway, then back at her. “It’s the Water Hashira.” 

“Oh?” Shinobu mused, grabbed her haori from the coat rack, and made her way to the gate. “You should’ve started with that, Aoi.” She patted the girl on her head and smiled. “Leave Tomioka-san to me and let the kakushis attend to the other patients.” 

It had been a while since Shinobu had last seen Giyuu Tomioka. Once every six months for the past year, to be precise. Whenever there was a Hashira meeting. They have been assigned to monitor different places. The Oyakata had also given her more time to focus on the Butterfly Mansion. 

Besides, when it came to injuries, Giyuu preferred to take care of them himself. It must’ve been bad that he had to come here. 

Shinobu saw him standing by the wooden gate as Aoi said. His haori was lightly stained by blood. He had his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing, trying to stem the bleeding. 

“I’d like to welcome you to a great evening, Tomioka-san, but it looks like it hasn’t been great to you at all.” 

Giyuu opened his eyes, sweat trickling down his face. Dried blood stained the corner of his lips. Shinobu could only imagine the pain he was going through. “Kochou.” 

“You were stabbed in the abdomen, and you look like you have a few broken ribs. My, don’t tell me you walked all the way here from your post?” All it took was a glance. When Giyuu didn’t reply, Shinobu turned and gestured for a few kakushis to come and bring in a stretcher. 

“No need,” he dismissed. She wasn’t having it. 

“Oh? And why is that, Tomioka-san?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you think Total Concentration Breathing can stitch your abdomen for you? Fix your ribs back into place?” 

“...” 

“That’ll be great if it's true, isn’t it, Tomioka-san? I wouldn’t have to gather herbs and constantly learn medicinal practices if all it takes is breathing to save someone’s life. Maybe I can finally have the house all to myself and the girls if we don’t have injured demon slayers coming in every day.” 

“I—” 

Shinobu tilted her chin, eyes focused on his abdomen. He might’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but it needed immediate attention. “Oh, but please, don’t take another step, Tomioka-san. Your broken rib might puncture your lungs, and you won’t be able to do Total Concentration Breathing anymore. It’d be devastating, you know?” 

“Kochou,” he called, voice low and strained. “I get it.” 

Then, she gave him a real smile. The kakushis prepared the stretcher, and Giyuu willingly let himself get carried. Shinobu instinctively reached for his hand, the one he mainly used to hold his sword, and gently squeezed it. “I’ll take care of you.” 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary. Shinobu encouraged all of her patients. 

Giyuu looked at her silently, face pale from the blood loss and breathing softly into exhaustion. He nodded slowly, and Shinobu felt him squeeze back before he let go. 

She watched him get brought inside, feeling the warmth of his touch linger on her palm. 

Yes. This should be normal. 

Contrary to everything normal, Giyuu recuperated in just two days. He was up, uniform on, and sword strapped to his waist. 

Shinobu caught him staring at the empty room. Bed made and pillows stacked. “Hmm? Already leaving me, Tomioka-san?” Giyuu shifted his leg to hers, eyes settling on her butterfly haori. He didn’t have his. “You’re missing your haori?” 

He nodded. Certainly a man of few words. 

“I have it here, Tomioka-san,” she said as she raised his clothing freshly dried from the laundry. “It was a challenge to remove the bloodstains, but Aoi-chan worked hard. You should thank her before you leave.”

He reached out to take it, but Shinobu stepped back. “Nah-ah, Tomioka-san. There’s still a hole that needs to be patched. Can you wait for a little more?” 

Without waiting for a response, she passed by him and sat at the edge of his hospital bed.  His mismatched haori lay on her lap, soft from too many washes, and sleeves torn open in a clean crescent cut. 

He stayed in his spot, watching as she threaded the needle with quiet focus—hands steady and patient. A simple whipstitch, just enough to close the gash and keep the cold out.

“Was it a lower moon?” She asked. The one who caused him such trouble.

“One of them was. I fought four demons that night.” 

“Did they use swords, too?” The hole in his haori was sliced neatly by a sharp blade. 

He deliberated whether he should answer her or not. Shinobu could tell. “I wasn’t the first to get to them.” 

“Oh… there were demon slayers who came before you?”

“And those demons used their corpses against me,” he continued, eyes darkened. “I let my emotions get the best of me.” 

She hummed, eyes half-lidded and sullen. “Oyakata-sama had their funerals done yesterday. He was worried about you, Tomioka-san.” When he chose silence once more, she chuckled. “I’m sure they’re resting peacefully now. You have avenged them.” 

Giyuu looked up from his haori to her smiling face. There it was again. That look of defeat. “I was late.” 

“I used to say the same thing when Nee-chan died. Shinazugawa-san had to knock me off my feet to remind me it’s not my fault.” She let out a soft laugh, no louder than the rustle of his clothes. “You gave them justice, Tomioka-san.” 

Shinobu had yet to give Kanae one. 

She tugged the thread tight in each motion, pulling the frayed edges back together. Not a beautiful stitch, maybe, but strong. The kind of fix you only noticed if you were looking for it. Shinobu was almost done, and the silence was deafening. 

She should ask something. “Ne, Tomioka-san, do you know how to sew?” Giyuu shook his head—his bangs cascaded over his azure eyes. “It’s a handy skill to learn, but I suppose you might prick yourself since you’re new to it.” 

“...”

“Tomioka-san, are things usually like this with you?” 

Giyuu merely raised his eyes, as if he asked what it was. 

“Quiet and awkward,” she clarified. 

Giyuu blinked twice, and then he shifted his gaze to the open window. “I’m quiet because I chose to be, but I’m not awkward.” 

She sucked in a breath and feigned surprise. “You’re not?” 

He stared at her—like, really stared at her, partly offended. That managed to make a reaction out of him—if that was even considered one. “Kochou, I’m not.” 

Her smile widened pleasantly. At least this felt like a real conversation. “I see. Well, you should try talking more. The kakushis are scared of you.” She tied a knot as she finished her stitching. The hole was gone. The scar remained, of course, but it would hold for now. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you,” he said almost immediately, and she gasped. 

“Am I dreaming? Tomioka-san, you know how to show appreciation.” 

Giyuu only sighed as he wore his haori, smoothing out the hems as it fell to his legs. “You helped me, both in my clothes and my wounds,” he briefly explained. 

“Of course, I would. You’re a dear comrade, Tomioka-san. I wish you’d rely on my people more when you get injured.” She undid the ties of her gourd bottle and handed it to him. “Please take this just in case. I mixed painkillers inside.” 

She expected him to say no, yet he simply took the gourd from her hands and tied it to the other side of his waist. Again, he said, “Thank you.” 

Ah, so many surprises in one day. Shinobu could only handle so much. “You’re very much welcome. If your haori needs a little stitching, please do pay a visit. I’ll fix it for you.”

He made his way to the door, no words spoken. What a truly awkward man. 

“That goes the same for injuries! Even the smallest ones!” She hollered, but he kept walking until he reached the end of the hall. 

Then he paused, meeting her eyes. “You’ve changed, Kochou.” 

She hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Is that a compliment?”  

The last she saw was the slight bow of his head, and that was enough to lighten the burden in her heart.

Shinobu later received her gourd bottle from a kakushi. It was filled with herbal tea to improve skin complexion. He had also sent a bag of tea leaves enough for her to last a year. 

“The Water Hashira said you were pale,” the kakushi relayed.

This had always been her natural complexion. She didn’t think Giyuu would pay attention to her appearance. She didn’t even think he knew he bought too much. 

Later that night, Shinobu would drink herbal tea with milk and honey while she continued concocting her poisons. It tasted quite pleasant. 

She wrote to Giyuu the next day, thanking him for the tea, while thinking she wasn't the only one who had changed. 

For the next year, Shinobu had been seeing Giyuu often.

The Oyakata frequently assigned them to joint missions after she had adjusted to her position as a Hashira and a healer. Not to mention, this frequency started after Giyuu had been badly injured. 

“Probably because Tomioka-san talks more with you, Shinobu-chan!” The Love Hashira would say. 

As the year went by, talented people joined their ranks as Hashira. Shinobu remembered how she had been promoted, and then Rengoku-san succeeded his father. Soon, Iguro-san, Mitsuri-chan, and Muichirou-san would also share the responsibility. 

It had been a while since they had this many Hashira. Shinobu was happy they had maintained this number for six months now. She even became good friends with them. 

“Is that so? But I think he talks to me because I talk a lot. After all, he was forced to.” 

Kanroji shook her head, braids swinging. “He talks because he wants to! It might not seem like it, but Tomioka-san is quite a chatter when he’s with you. Do you think he likes you?” 

“Likes me?” 

“Like-like you?” 

Shinobu highly doubted that. Whenever they were on missions, Giyuu would either nod, stare into space, or tell her to stop poking him. She couldn’t help but tease him because of that. “Ne, Mitsuri-chan, do you want my dango?” 

Her face brightened by a mile, forgetting about Giyuu altogether. “Let’s share it! We’re both growing women, after all.” 

Shinobu smiled, satisfied that she diverted the topic. 

Merrily, Mitsuri ate her part of the dango. It only took a few seconds before she finished it. “Speaking of Tomioka-san—” 

Shinobu stopped eating.

“—he’s been a Hashira for quite a long time, hasn’t he?” 

Four years wasn’t that long, but for a Hashira, it was a commendable time. Kanae was only a Hashira for a year before she died. “Well, he was promoted the same time as my older sister.” 

“You have a sister, Shinobu-chan?” 

“Yes, but she’s not with us anymore,” she answered with a small smile. Kanroji had a worried expression, guilty to have accidentally brought this topic up. Shinobu didn’t mind it one bit. “It’s fine, Mitsuri-chan, I remember my sister fondly despite it all.” 

And by remembering Kanae, Shinobu would be reminded of her goal. 

“Ah, Tomioka-san! What a coincidence to see you here.” Kanroji’s cheery voice pulled Shinobu back to the present. 

She looked up and saw Giyuu coming out of an udon store. He still wore his standard demon slayer uniform despite it being morning. On the other hand, she and Kanroji wore civilian clothes. 

“My, Tomioka-san, you’re really dedicated to the job, aren’t you?” Shinobu greeted, getting up from her seat. 

“Kochou,” he greeted. “Kanroji.” 

Shinobu could hear Kanroji’s inner thoughts as she beamed. He greeted me! It’s the first time!

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to this morning?” She asked, curious. 

Without a pause, he answered. “To your estate.” 

Kanroji muffled a squeal, looking back and forth between the two. Shinobu could guess what was happening inside her love-stricken mind. It might've reminded her how Kanae would be the same. 

But just like then, she ignored it. “Oh? Were you injured? Or are you visiting anyone admitted?” 

Giyuu stared at her, forming the right words to say. He raised his sleeve, showing a side of his haori that had been torn. “A demon tore my haori.” 

“...If your haori needs a little stitching, please do pay a visit. I’ll mend it for you.”

Surprisingly, Giyuu had a good memory. Shinobu couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. “I see. Let me mend it for you. Can you take it off? The tear might get bigger if you keep wearing it.” 

Promptly, he shed off his haori and handed it to her. Shinobu folded it neatly, treating it with utmost care. Then, she carried it against her chest, turning to her friend.  

“Mitsuri-chan—” 

Kanroji was enjoying this the most. “Oh, don’t mind me, you two! I have some business here in the city. Remember to have some fun, okay?” 

Then, she sprinted away, leaving dust in her wake. 

Giyuu blinked at her, gaze moving to Shinobu. “What does she mean by fun?” 

“I wouldn't know.” She would. It was ridiculous. “Walk with me, Tomioka-san.” 

So he did.

They walked side by side in the crowded street of Tokyo, letting the buzzing sound of life around them speak for itself. Although she often badgered him to talk, she didn't mind a quiet walk together. She respected his choice of silence at times. 

Besides, he was considerate of her, even if he didn’t say it. 

Being a healer and a demon slayer, she was a highly observant person. She knew how fast he normally walked, but he matched his pace with hers whenever they were together. She appreciated it. 

They passed by a textile shop, and Shinobu halted. Giyuu stopped walking, too. 

“Tomioka-san, I think this color suits you.” She pointed to a plain white textile. “Your haori is quite flashy, so a plain color underneath would be good. Our uniform is black, so white will be great as casual attire, no? At least for a top.” 

Giyuu observed how she called for the attendant and pulled the textile closer to him. Without much thought, she reached for his arm and tugged him closer. 

“For pants, I guess black will do.” 

“I don't need one, Kochou.” Yet he didn't move away. 

Shinobu raised her index finger. “I admire your resolve to kill demons, Tomioka-san, but you need a life beyond your uniform. It starts with clothes. Clothes, I tell you. Even Shinazugawa-san wears a kimono when he goes to town, since his uniform shows too much skin.” 

He furrowed his brows, still unconvinced. 

“See this, Tomioka-san? I’m wearing a kimono under my haori.” She gestured to herself. Her clothing was decorated with Sakura petals. “You should choose a color that fits you, like white.” 

Giyuu stared at her blankly. It might’ve annoyed her. 

Not that she vied for his attention, but men would usually get flustered in normal circumstances. She was aware of her effect on other people, too. Stuttered words. Reddish face. 

And him? He was just as stoic as a statue. 

“It fits you, too,” he replied with that low voice of his. “Your haori—it’s white. It used to be Kanae’s, but it looks good on you.” Plus, with a butterfly design. 

He said it so casually, she almost didn’t hear. Then the silence came.

She blinked. Once.

Twice.

Then her heart stumbled. “Oh my, I didn’t think you’d have it in you, Tomioka-san,” she abruptly said, letting go of the clothing. The attendant sulked at the corner. “You can praise other people, too!” Her voice was three octaves higher than usual. She hoped Giyuu wouldn’t notice it.

But he did. 

“I only said what I observed,” he explained, moving back as he waited for her to follow. “Kochou, is there something wrong?” 

“Hmm?” She didn’t look at him, walking briskly as he stayed behind her. 

This. This was not normal. 

“You sound… odd.” 

“One moment you’re praising me, now you’re not. You should choose one side, Tomioka-san.” She wasn’t even walking at this point. Her geta sandals thumped against the ground. 

Giyuu followed her pace. “You stopped your Total Concentration Breathing,” he continued—which only annoyed her more. A Hashira shouldn’t make such a clumsy mistake. 

“I—” 

Her sandals snapped. Shinobu stumbled on her step. 

Before Giyuu could catch her, she tucked his haori close to her chest and planted her hand on the ground,  giving herself a boost as she landed cleanly on her feet. He stared ahead for a long moment, jaw tight, shoulders still. His arm was outstretched, as if he was going to grab her. 

Then finally, he blinked. Once. And recollected himself. “Are you, perhaps, ill?”

What a truly odd man. 

Maybe she was, too.

Shinobu bit back a hearty laugh, shoulders shaking and cheeks flushing. “I’m not ill, Tomioka-san. Just… feeling a bit odd lately. And, if someone slipped, the first thing you should do is ask if they are okay, not if they are ill.” 

Gently, she dusted off the ends of her kimono and checked on his haori. “Ah, don’t worry about your haori. I kept it safe.” 

Giyuu didn’t seem concerned. He gazed down and saw her broken sandals, his thoughts going to places. It couldn’t be mended if he tied it. “Kochou.” 

“Yes, Tomioka-san?” 

He crouched in front of her without a word, hands steady as he offered his back. 

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

He glanced over his shoulder, just enough to catch her eyes. “Come on.”

Shinobu shook her head, defeated. Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs settling around his waist. He rose slowly, adjusting her weight with practiced ease. “You’re lighter than you look,” he murmured.

A smile made its way to her face. Most people would comment on her height. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.” But his voice was soft. Almost amused. 

They soon walked their way back to the Butterfly Mansion. Looks were garnered, of course, but Shinobu paid no mind to it. She was too occupied with messing with him to care. She asked him what kind of stitching he would prefer and if he wanted anything in return for carrying her. Then he would ignore her and say—

“Kochou, don’t you run out of questions?” 

“Speaking of questions, Tomioka-san, do you want a butterfly embroidery in your haori?” 

He sighed. “No.” 

Mitsuri’s question echoed in the back of her mind. “Do you think he likes you?” 

Shinobu didn’t know, but she realized she might’ve been fond of Giyuu more than she’d admit as he carried her back to her house. 

Giyuu had been hiding teenagers from the corps—a demon named Nezuko and her brother, Tanjiro. She knew he harbored deep sincerity for his colleagues, but he also bore hatred for demons. So, this was, none short of a shocker. 

And, for once, Shinobu was angry at him. 

She wasn’t angry because Giyuu hid a demon. She was angry because he didn’t tell her properly. 

Throughout the years they’d known each other, she thought, at least, that he would ask for her help defending these kids from the other Hashiras—that he’d tell her and make her understand why he was doing this. He had exchanged swords with her and even restrained her under his arms, yet still, he didn’t properly say anything. 

Maybe she was the only one who considered the other as a friend. Maybe Giyuu never really thought differently of her from the rest of their colleagues.

How useless, she thought. Shinobu would still defend the Kamado siblings even if he didn’t ask her for it. 

Fortunately, she was a master of her emotions. Even if she was still displeased at him, she made sure Giyuu knew how the siblings were faring. “They are resting in the Butterfly Mansion. You can visit them, Tomioka-san.” There were two other people with them. Inosuke and Zenitsu. 

Giyuu halted his steps. He was about to leave after the Hashira meeting. His gaze remained forward. Unshaken. “It’s okay. I know they’re in good hands.” 

Good grief. 

It was either that Shinobu was foolish or he was getting better at communication because her anger dissipated by a mile on a simple sentence. 

She smiled softly. If her sister were to learn about this, she would’ve bothered her to no end. He had her wrapped around his finger. “Tomioka-san, it seems I’ve spoiled you with my services. Don’t you think you should treat me better? Let’s see… how about when you talk to me, you turn around and look at me properly?” 

He stood frozen, guilty of the claim. Although he wasn’t obligated to share his troubles with Kochou, he did, somewhat, trouble her with the lack of explanation on his part. 

“Turn around, Tomioka-san.” 

He turned, face stoic and dazed. “Good. Now, repeat after me. Will you—” 

“Will you—” 

“—eat soba—” 

“—eat soba—” 

“—with me?” 

“—with… me?” 

Shinobu had a close-eyed smile, pleased. “My, I never thought you’d ask, Tomioka-san. Sure, let’s have soba together! I still have to check on Inosuke-kun and Zenitsu-kun, so let’s meet before sundown. The usual place, right?” 

Giyuu, barely processing the events, merely stared back at her. 

“Alright. See you later, Tomioka-san.” She didn’t give any room for retort as she waved her hand and left. 

The residents of the Butterfly Mansion would notice her pleasant mood throughout the day. It felt undeniably satisfying that she had the upper hand against that man. Even her patients, notably Tanjiro-kun, could smell that she felt great. 

"Shinobu-san, did something good happen?” He asked. 

Shinobu patted his head, smiling. “Nothing unusual. Perhaps, your steady recovery, Tanjiro-kun. Nezuko-chan has been sleeping well, too.” She could understand how Giyuu had a soft spot for these two. They were quite adorable. 

“Please, it’s all thanks to your hospitality.” He bowed his head, immensely grateful. “Thank you for sticking out for us even back at the Hashira meeting.” 

“You give me too much credit. Tomioka-san was also there. He stopped Iguro-san from choking you.” 

“I’m always grateful to Giyuu-san! He found me and Nezuko—” Giyuu-san? 

They were on a first-name basis? 

“—I don’t think we’ll be spared if a different Hashira had seen us…” he mumbled, then stuttered over his words. “O-Oh! But I think things might turn out good if it were you, Shinobu-san.” 

Shinobu hummed. “I wouldn’t know, Tanjiro-kun. Maybe Tomioka-san is nicer than I.” Giyuu had a soft side, it turns out. She hadn’t seen it yet. “How long have you two known each other?” 

“Hmm… I think two years?” Two years? Shinobu was eighteen now, and she had known Giyuu since she was thirteen. 

“Do you like him?” 

“Eh?” He mouthed, caught off guard. “Uhm, Giyuu-san has always been nice to me and Nezuko. He helped us when we had nothing. He had more reason to kill us than to spare us, so I’m eternally grateful for his kindness.” 

“So, you like him.” 

“As a person, yes.” 

“Hnn…” 

“Do you like him, Kochou-san?” 

She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. What a straightforward man. Shinobu hadn’t met anyone like him. Instead, she gave him a close-eyed smile and answered, “Tomioka-san is easily misunderstood, Tanjiro-kun. However, I grew to know him in time. He’s a likable man when he tries hard.” 

Tanjiro nodded enthusiastically. “So, you like him.” 

Shinobu let out a laugh. It was an insane thought, but it was true. “I guess I do.” 

Despite the one-sided invitation, Shinobu would see Giyuu in front of the Soba shop, waiting for her by sundown. She waved a hand, called out his name, and he would turn to look at her, just as she told him to do so. 

She paid attention to how he let her go inside first, pick their seat, and order before he did. “Tomioka-san, I couldn’t believe it, but there’s someone who actually likes you.” 

Giyuu choked on his noodle, falling into a coughing fit. Shinobu laughed softly and handed him a glass of water. “It’s quite the surprise, isn’t it? A pleasant one.” 

He drank from his glass and recollected himself. “I’m not disliked, Kochou.”

“It’s great if things are truly like that, wouldn’t it, Tomioka-san? Iguro-san and Shinazugawa-san were this close to raising their fists against you.” She raised her hand, calling the soba shokunin. “One serving of simmered salmon with daikon, please. Thank you.” 

Giyuu chewed slowly, deep blue eyes boring a hole in her head. 

“It’s odd how you forgot to order it,” she simply said.

He swallowed his noodle, eyes downcast. “I didn’t.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I was thinking you grew tired of it.” Since they were eating it after missions. 

Shinobu shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I only eat it whenever I’m with you. So, no, I’m not tired of it since we rarely eat together.” Then, she ate slowly and relished the rich taste of freshly cooked soba. “Maybe we should eat more often, Tomioka-san? Mitsuri-chan knows a lot of delicious restaurants—” 

She was so lost in sharing her stories with Mitsuri that she failed to notice Giyuu’s undivided attention to the way she eats. When the simmered salmon arrived, Giyuu split it perfectly in half and gave her portion without a word. 

“Ah, thank you, Tomioka-san. Where was I?” 

“Western clothing,” he replied. “How popular it is in Tokyo.” 

Ah. So he had been listening. 

“Oh, right,” she said, smiling. “You pay attention really well, Tomioka-san. Usually, you’d ask me to stop talking by now.” 

And then, barely, his lips moved. The corner of his mouth lifted. Just a little. So slight it might’ve been mistaken for a twitch, or a trick of the light. She was mostly sure it was because of the simmered salmon, but she hoped, even just a little bit, that this smile of his was because of her. 

“Should I?” He mused. 

Ah. It was because of her. 

Shinobu only smiled and ate her salmon, continuing her story until their bowls were empty. 

When it was time to go to their designated posts, she asked, “Tomioka-san, should we call each other by our first names?” 

He looked at her as if she had grown a second head. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, Tomioka-san. There shouldn’t be any problem with it, no? Tanjiro-kun calls you by your first name.” 

He stood there for a long moment, brow barely furrowed. 

“Hmm… maybe that’s a step too far. How about this?” Shinobu craned her head to the side, purple eyes shining brightly against the lantern lights. “Let’s be friends, Tomioka-san.” 

He stared at her, unmoving, as if it were the most bizarre thing he’d heard. But it wasn’t. Was being friends with her so shocking for him?

A long breath left his nose. Not a sigh—he didn’t sigh. Just… breathe.

“Kochou,” he whispered, just enough for her to hear. “Are we not friends this whole time?” 

She froze, the world narrowing to a pinpoint as her eyes widened—slowly, involuntarily—like windows pushed open by a sudden gust.

Friends. He considered her a friend. 

The corners of her eyes crinkled in delight. “We are. That’s why you have to remember, friends rely on each other.” Her gaze fell to the stitches she made on his haori. “A while ago, back at the Hashira meeting, you said nothing, so I couldn’t defend you properly. It’s frustrating, Tomioka-san. When I try to understand you, it’s like you’re finding new ways to be misunderstood.” 

He didn’t say a word, but she knew he listened. 

“So, as your friend, I’d appreciate it if you tell me things, just like how I tell you things.” 

They stood just outside the soba shop, where the warm scent of broth and buckwheat still lingered in the air, clinging faintly to their clothes. Behind them, the clatter of bowls and the murmur of late-night diners carried through the sliding door, muffled but constant—ordinary life continuing, unaware of the dangers of demons by night. 

He had his hands lay limp to his sides, shoulders slightly hunched against the early autumn chill. The glow from the paper lantern overhead cast a soft, amber light along the sharp line of his jaw, but his eyes stayed lowered. It stayed on hers. 

“Shinobu,” he said, finally. The words came rough around the edges, like they hadn’t been spoken aloud until now. “I can’t be as chatty as you.” 

A smile blossomed on her face. Genuine and kind. Her name sounded just right from his mouth. “Giyuu-san,” she called, “you don’t have to cross a bridge that steep. A few sentences would do. I won’t pressure you.” 

“I’ll try,” he promised. Then he looked at her. Not with apology, not with a plea, but with that rare, steady honesty of someone who didn’t often speak from the heart, but meant it fully when he did.

In this solemn view, Shinobu realized she just didn’t like Giyuu Tomioka. 

She liked-liked him, as Mitsuri would call it. 

It hit her—not like lightning nor like a sudden, sweeping wave, just like his breathing style. It was quieter than that. A shift, subtle and irreversible, like the moment dusk becomes night, and she wouldn’t realize it until the stars were already out.

She looked at him—really looked—and saw him not just as the man who walked slowly to match her pace, or the one who would send her herbal tea for her naturally pale complexion, or who carried her on his back without question, without a care for curious stares or shooting glances.

She saw the way his mouth tugged into that half-smile he probably didn’t know he did, and the way his eyes would stare deep into hers. 

And that was when the thought came. Oh. 

Not a question. Not a doubt. Just the clear, simple truth of it.

I love him.

She didn’t say it. Of course, she didn’t. Their circumstances were in a tight noose. They were both Hashiras. 

Instead, she tucked her hands behind her back and smiled. “Okay. That’s a promise.”

She hoped he didn’t notice how her cheeks flushed red, nor how unsteady her breathing might’ve been. 

Because her mind and heart did. And it wouldn’t be forgotten.

Chapter Text

Giyuu Tomioka did not want to be a Hashira. 

It had been too long. He had forgotten what he wanted to be before the night of his sister’s wedding. He had forgotten who he was before his sister died. Tsutako Tomioka. He had only remembered guilt since then. 

His sister had a great future in store for her. Despite being orphaned, she managed to raise him on her own, find a decent husband, and settle for the rest of her life. And in one night, it was all gone. 

He tried. He tried so much to tell the others that his sister was killed by a demon. He tried to tell her betrothed, but none listened. None believed him. 

“Demons are merely tales, Giyuu. They are not real.” 

They called him ill and sent him to a relative who was a doctor. Giyuu didn’t need a doctor. He needed someone who could kill demons. 

So, he ran away. 

Hurriedly, he left the life where things could’ve been normal. He could’ve lived as a civilian with his uncle, who was a respectable doctor. He could’ve pretended demons never existed, and his sister died in an unfortunate accident. 

But at the tender age of ten, he couldn’t do that. Guilt had consumed him every day. 

He didn’t know where he was going. Anywhere would do, just not in ignorance. He didn’t know if he would die before he could find someone who could kill demons. 

And when he did almost die, Sakonji Urokodaki found him. 

From then on, Giyuu would find himself surrounded by people who could understand him. People who knew demons and knew how to kill them. Urokodaki would teach him the way of the Water Breathing Technique, and he would get a direction on where to go, on where to find an outlet for this guilty conscience. 

Urokodaki told him it wasn’t his fault, but he blamed himself anyway. Giyuu carried the thought that had taken everything away from his sister. 

Maybe the former Hashira felt bad and took a lonesome kid as a student. Giyuu wouldn’t know. He wasn’t the best student there. 

“Giyuu, you will train with Sabito from now on.” 

Sabito was tons, if not more, greater than him.

“Let’s train, Giyuu! We’ll be strong enough to be full-fledged demon slayers.” 

By then, the smile that disappeared from his face slowly returned. Being with Sabito had reminded him of a life he used to live, blended perfectly with his goal to extinguish demons. 

However, grief was a fickle little thing. Two years after his sister’s death, Giyuu still grieved. When he would relapse back to depression, wishing that he had died instead, Sabito would smack a reminder on his head. 

“Don't you ever say that you wish that you had died again! Your older sister was getting married the next day! And yet she hid and protected you from a demon! You and no one else! So don't disrespect her death like that! You better stay alive. Your sister sacrificed her life to save yours and to give you a future! So you must carry on living, Giyuu."

The stinging sensation of Sabito’s palm against his face hurt. And then, he realized something else actually hurt. 

This strange sensation of wanting. Not much. Just enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to achieve something he thought he’d never be able to. If Sabito were with him, Giyuu could do it. He could exterminate demons together with them until the last one drops dead. 

“Let’s pass the Final Selection,” Sabito said as he helped him get up from the ground. 

Although hesitant, Giyuu found a new resolve. He took his hand and nodded, promising a future he could finally see for himself. 

The Final Selection passed, and Giyuu woke up in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar letter. 

It wrote the name of Sabito—the names of those who have perished. His friend, who reminded him—without grand gestures, just with presence—that life could still hold moments worth hoping for. 

And he was dead. 

They said he was killed by the Hand Demon. 

The world didn’t stop. It never does. The rain kept falling outside his room like it hadn’t just taken something from him. Like Sabito was just outside, waiting for him to wake up. 

But he was dead. 

The last thing Giyuu remembered was Sabito saving him from a demon he couldn’t kill, and regret crawled its way to the tip of his tongue. If only I could kill one demon. If only I did better. 

If only I could defend my sister. 

If only. 

If only. 

It was an awful thought. It made the food on his side taste bitter. He slept too much, or not at all. Ate only when the gnawing felt louder than the grief. Even as he continued his mission as a full-fledged demon slayer, it felt sickening. 

And the worst part? The brief spark they had lit in him still flickered, somewhere deep, and now it burned.

Because it remembered.

Because it wanted to hope, still.

And that wanting hurt more than the numbness ever had.

“Giyuu, Ubuyashiki Mansion! Hashira Meeting!” Kanzaburo, his kasugai crow, called. 

Giyuu had finished killing a lower kizuki in Kyoto, and he was being called for a Hashira meeting. It could only mean one thing. 

He sheathed his sword, eyes dull and dimmed, and obeyed. Moments came by in a blur, and he rode a train back to Tokyo. The morning came like it always did—grey and sullen. The conductor would smile at him and ask for his ticket, and he would function all the more indifferent.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t frown either. Giyuu just… existed. 

And as he came to Ubuyashiki’s mansion, he would see a comrade who would be promoted alongside him. Kanae Kochou. She was a talented demon slayer, mastering the Flower Breathing at the age of sixteen. They had been on a mission once. He had seen her fight. 

She deserved to be a Hashira. He didn’t. 

There was another in the garden who looked like her. Giyuu did not know her name. 

“Kanae, Giyuu, both of you are outstanding individuals. Will you two support the Demon Slayers as part of the Hashira from now on?” 

Giyuu listened, hands on his lap, eyes steady, the weight of Ubuyashiki’s words sliding off him like rain on stone. He didn’t nod. He didn’t protest. He simply waited until he was finished, until the garden grew quiet from expectation.

“It will be an honor, Oyakata-sama,” Kanae said as she bowed her head. 

Ubuyashiki turned to Giyuu, patient. 

Giyuu knew there were others more willing, even eager. But they had vanished—some taken by circumstance, others by cowardice. When the dust settled, only he remained as the decent wielder of the Water Breathing. Not the best, not the brightest—just the last.

He had no other choice. 

He bowed his head and replied, “Yes, Oyakata-sama.” 

He accepted the position. Not with pride nor with passion. Only with the cold clarity of a man who understood that life rarely offers choices—only outcomes. And sometimes, survival depends not on wanting, but on simply enduring.

Once dismissed, Giyuu was the first to leave. He could faintly hear congratulations from afar, but he didn’t need it. He didn’t deserve this. They should congratulate Kanae Kochou instead. 

He passed by a young girl in the garden, Kanae’s sister, he thought, tersely meeting her eyes. It was a notable one, given that he hadn’t seen such deep purple eyes before. 

She blinked at him and then bowed her head. Giyuu did the same out of courtesy. 

“Shinobu, come here! Himejima-san is asking for you.” He heard Kanae call for her. Giyuu returned his eyes to the road. 

They looked close. It reminded him of his older sister. 

Giyuu had hoped, silently, that things would turn out differently for them. That Shinobu wouldn’t feel what he had felt, and Kanae would only get stronger from hereon. 

Kanae Kochou had died against an Upper kizuki. Two, to be specific. 

Giyuu normally did not join funerals or burials of his comrades. He had grown detached from the lot since Sabito’s death. However, he soon found himself near the Butterfly Mansion with the only blood relative Kanae had left. 

Shinobu Kochou. 

He saw her from afar, greeting guests who mourned for Kanae’s passing by the gate. And, she was smiling.

It was odd, by his standards. 

She should be inside with Kanae. She should spend the remainder of her time with her sister. The other Hashiras should be there, too. 

Giyuu did not have that chance to mourn since he never managed to retrieve his sister’s body. What was she doing outside? 

“She’s quite fortunate, isn’t she? The little Kochou.” He heard one of the demon slayers say from the side. 

Fortunate? 

His chest tightened. Like a door he’d long ago sealed shut had begun, impossibly, to creak open. They said something—sharp, wrong, cruel in the way only truth twisted out of shape can be. And that was it. That was the hinge.

He felt it rise—not like flame, but like floodwater.

Silent. Heavy. Unstoppable.

His jaw clenched. His breath came deeper now, slower, as though he had to pull the air through his teeth.

And then his voice—

“That’s rude of you.”

He spoke in a way that wasn't him. 

His words, normally distant, found the man’s face like a blade finds a throat. “Do you have no ounce of honor for your fallen comrade? Kanae Kochou is dead, and you call her sister fortunate?” 

“T-Tomioka-sama,” they stuttered, bowing. “W-We humbly apologize! We didn’t mea—” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” he interrupted, turning his back toward them as he faced Shinobu. “Apologize to her.” 

This was the first time Giyuu had looked at her properly. He watched them apologize to her, and she smiled at them. 

Not a kind smile. Not even a polite one. It was the sort of smile that made silence feel loud, that pulled the air out of the room like a slow, unseen leak. Her lips curved just enough to be noticed—measured, deliberate, like the drawing of a bowstring.

No teeth. Just calm, controlled tension. 

Really, how odd. 

Why was she hiding her anger? 

When they were finally left alone, Giyuu expressed his condolences. He might not know Kanae Kochou personally, but she was one of the nicest people in the corps. The few missions they had together gave proof of that. 

Shinobu tipped her head and smiled softly. “Will you be going inside, Tomioka-san? Himejima-san and Uzui-san are there.” 

Why was she still smiling? 

Giyuu glanced from outside the gate. He could hear Uzui’s boisterous voice. 

“Shinazugawa-san is there, too.” 

Any sort of idea to come inside was thrown out of the window. Shinazugawa might pick a fight with him if he joined them inside. Giyuu did not want to be disrespectful to Kochou. “I finished what I came for.” 

“Is that so? Pray to tell, what could that be?” 

What was it? 

Was it for Kanae, who couldn’t hear his condolences from heaven? 

Or was it for this young woman, who grieved like him, but in a completely different way? 

Giyuu fell silent for a few seconds. His attention briefly went to her clenched knuckle hidden beneath her sister’s haori. “You.” 

The smile disappeared from her face. “Me?” 

Giyuu was no one special. She shouldn’t keep her appearances to him. “You can stop smiling. No one is here but me.” 

Her facade crumbled, surprise etched in her features. 

The memories of his sister resurfaced. Giyuu could still remember even if he wanted to forget. “I know what it feels like. You can be angry, Kochou.” 

Yes, this was enough. 

Giyuu looked over to where Kanae’s memorial was and bowed his head. He held high respect for his fellow Hashira. It was a huge loss for the corps. 

As he walked back, he’d thought that one day, he would die for his cause as well. 

And when that time comes, he hopes no one will grieve for him as he did for his sister. 

By the next Hashira meeting, Shinobu would join them as the Insect Hashira. 

Ubuyashiki called them and shared that she would inherit the Butterfly Mansion, and, therefore, be the corps’ main physician. Giyuu had to come and listen to this out of obligation. 

He could count the times he had been at the Kochou residence. It was one time, and Kanae was still the head of the house. A cure for a poison. He didn’t impose and left immediately. 

As much as possible, Giyuu did not want to become a burden to others. If he could manage an injury on his own, he would deal with it himself. 

So, when he was forced to go to the Butterfly Mansion, he was at death’s door. 

Giyuu had made the terrible mistake of losing himself to anger when a lower kizuki used his dead comrade’s body against him. He hadn’t noticed he was stabbed until he had difficulty breathing. Begrudgingly, he couldn’t handle this matter on his own, so he needed Kochou’s help. 

A bandage will do. Even a quick stitching would, too. 

His stubbornness would inevitably pull an angry Kochou from her laboratory. Even if she smiled, he knew she was angry. She began to throw questions at him—berate him like a child who wouldn’t want to be put to bed. It was ridiculous. 

“Oh? And why is that, Tomioka-san?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you think Total Concentration Breathing can stitch your abdomen for you? Fix your ribs back into place?” 

It struck him like a chord. He was acting like a child. 

And he was supposed to be three years older than her. Her senior. 

“Oh, but please, don’t take another step, Tomioka-san. Your broken rib might puncture your lungs, and you won’t be able to do Total Concentration Breathing anymore. It’d be devastating, you know?” 

“Kochou,” he interrupted, consciousness fading. “I get it.” 

Then, she gave him a real smile. It was unlike the ones she would normally give to others. 

Giyuu was put on a stretcher. The sword in his palm was replaced by a warm hand. He craned his neck upward, confused about who it was. And it was just her. 

Shinobu held his hand sincerely, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll take care of you.” 

It had been a while since he heard that. He stared at her, making sure she wasn’t a fragment of his imagination. She wasn’t Tsutako Tomioka. She was his comrade. One who sincerely cared for a man like him. 

Slowly, he nodded his head in understanding and squeezed her hand back. 

His consciousness faded, and the last he would see was her gentle smile. 

Shinobu was a hard worker. She had made miracles of his injury, making him recover in a short span of two days.

Unlike Kanae, Shinobu focused on medicine and poison, so he could understand if she was better at this than her older sister. She was good with a needle, too, stitching his wounds and his haori. He hadn’t even noticed it was torn until she said it. 

“Tomioka-san, are things usually like this with you? Quiet and awkward.” 

However, she had also grown very chatty. 

Where was the young woman who quietly sat in the garden those years ago? Has she always been this pale? “I’m quiet because I chose to be, but I’m not awkward.” 

She faked a gasp. “You’re not?” 

He stared at her—like, really stared at her in the way one might react to hearing that gravity had been canceled. “Kochou, I’m not.” Awkward. 

Her smile widened. She had been doing so recently whenever they talked. “I see. Well, you should try talking more. The kakushis are scared of you.” She tied a knot as she finished her stitching.

Giyuu gave it a good look. It was cleanly done. He could tell how careful she had been in handling his haori, even if she didn’t seem like she’d run out of words to say. “Thank you.” 

She had her mouth open, incredulous. “Am I dreaming? Tomioka-san, you know how to show appreciation.” 

“You helped me, both in my clothes and my wounds,” he reasoned. Giyuu knew what genuine care was because he had experienced it with his sister. Shinobu treated him well, and it should be acknowledged. 

“Of course, I would. You’re a dear comrade, Tomioka-san. I wish you’d rely on my people more when you get injured.” It had been a long time since Giyuu had heard that. He watched silently as she undid the ties of her gourd bottle and handed it to him. "Please take this just in case. I mixed painkillers inside.” 

There was a small tug in his chest. He couldn’t explain it. 

He spoke before he could think too hard about it. Before he could give himself the chance to bury the impulse beneath stoicism and silence. “Thank you.” 

“You’re very much welcome. If your haori needs a little stitching, please do pay a visit. I’ll fix it for you.” She asked him to visit again. Him. Out of all people. 

The young woman who desperately held herself together in anger and in frustration was nowhere to be found. He turned, just enough to see her wave her arms from her door, and realized that Shinobu Kochou had found her own person. 

“You’ve changed, Kochou.” 

She hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Is that a compliment?”  

Yes. It certainly was. 

Giyuu wanted to express his appreciation in ways other than a simple “Thank You”. He wrote to Urokodaki that day and asked what tea would be great to balance a woman’s sensitive complexion. 

He soon received a list of herbs, and he would personally go to an apothecary and get them for Shinobu. 

“Deliver this to the Butterfly Mansion,” he commanded a kakushi who was also on their way there. 

The kakushi stared at the bottle and the several boxes of tea leaves behind Giyuu. It had no written recipient. 

“Uh, Tomioka-sama, who should I give this to?” 

Shinobu. He almost said. He forgot there were many of them in that house. Giyuu had always been alone in his. 

“Kochou.” 

When nightfall came, just when he was reinforcing his zori sandals for a night patrol, Shinobu’s kasugai crow flew to him, carrying an envelope. 

Giyuu rustled his pocket and took a walnut he had saved for his own crow, cracking it open and giving it to hers, consequently taking the letter as well. Her flying companion left in good spirits as he unfolded the parchment. 

Tomioka-san, 

     As the autumn breeze grows ever more pleasant, I hope this letter finds you in good health and fine spirits.

     I must thank you most sincerely for the unexpected and lovely gift you sent me. The moment I unwrapped it, I couldn’t help but smile. To be quite honest, I hadn’t imagined you capable of such kindness—and so, I was rather surprised.

     Please forgive me for saying so, but you do tend to carry yourself with a certain aloofness… which may be why your thoughtfulness on this occasion touched me all the more deeply. I realized that the gentle side of you is also part of your true nature. I am glad to know you better, little by little.

     The chill in the morning and evening air has grown noticeably sharper as of late. Please do take good care of yourself, and keep warm as the season changes.

     I look forward to the next time we meet. Do you know when that would be? 

Yours sincerely, 

Shinobu Kochou

Giyuu folded it back into fours and tucked it inside his uniform. 

His ears were ringing. He didn’t know how, but he felt he could hear Shinobu while reading her letter. 

Not knowing what to reply, he got up from his wooden floor and grabbed his sword. 

He could think of what to reply later. 

Giyuu did not write back. 

Maybe Kochou was correct about him being awkward. He didn’t know how to properly converse with someone else, much more with a woman. 

He had also been significantly busy. He had found a demon who did not want to eat humans. 

Nezuko Kamado, and her human brother, Tanjiro Kamado. 

So, when Oyakata-sama assigned Giyuu and Shinobu to missions together, the timing couldn’t be more dreadful. They have been paired frequently after that unsightly moment he got injured. 

“Tomioka-san, do you, perhaps, not know how to write?” Shinobu would ask him, her smile not reaching her eyes as they met halfway to a demon sighting at an abandoned mining cave. “Ah, that wasn’t nice of me. I shouldn’t have asked you that.” 

Kochou was pissed. Once again, Giyuu didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“Have you been well?” She asked instead, dismissing her previous concern. 

He nodded, walking beside her as he naturally matched her pace. For some reason, her mood lightened. “And you?” He asked in turn. 

“I have been faring well. I drink herbal tea every night after all.” 

Giyuu looked to the other side. He couldn’t understand why he felt warm in the chilly night. 

They walked together for a mile or two, then they heard screaming. 

Shinobu immediately changed her demeanor. “Tomioka-san.” Giyuu left as soon as she said it. 

They raced to the mountain’s peak, encountering a demon with many arms and legs. 

The land grew cold all at once.

No wind whispered through the skeletal branches, and even the crows had fallen silent. Beneath the low boughs and broken light, he saw it—that crawling silhouette of memory made flesh. A creature of writhing limbs, stitched from smoke and nightmare, moving with the soundless grace of something that had no right to exist.

An entity like the Hand Demon, which killed Sabito. 

Its hands—too many to count—reached into the air like twisted prayers, clawing at nothing, or perhaps at everything. Some were small, child's hands. Others were warped, grotesque. All moved in restless hunger.

Giyuu did not flinch, though his jaw clenched like a rusted vice. Within him, something ancient and brittle cracked.

He remembered the Final Selection, years ago—when he did so little that it was almost nothing. 

A scream tried to claw its way up his throat, not from fear, but fury. A white-hot, bone-deep anger—at the thing, at himself, at the past. His fists trembled. Not from terror. From restraint.

"Tomioka-san.” 

Her voice called for him. Soft and steady. 

Shinobu. 

She came to stand beside him, her haori stirring gently in the unnatural stillness. She didn’t look at the creature. She looked at him. Eyes that had seen death every day, and eyes that had borne the burden of his silence until he had no choice but to speak.

"Whatever it is you’re seeing, it’s nothing. You’re strong now.”

The hands of the demon flexed. It sensed his fury. It fed on it.

But her words—simple and quiet—were a blade to its hunger.

“You can kill it.” 

He exhaled, slowly. Measured. The storm behind his eyes settled, not gone, but contained—like fire behind glass. The rage was still there, but so was she. A tether to the present. A witness to his pain, and to his healing.

Giyuu unsheathed his sword and dashed to his enemy. It all lasted in that one decisive moment. 

Swiftly, he evaded its attacks and planted his blade to its neck. 

“Water Breathing Third Form,” he whispered, putting force to his palms. “Flowing Dance.” He moved his body and danced in a flowing pattern, slicing its head off its body. 

Giyuu landed cleanly on his feet. The demon’s head rolled into the ground, fading along the breeze. With a flick of his wrist, he brought the sword up, the motion fluid, practiced, almost elegant. Then—swift as a whispered thought—he snapped it down in a sharp arc, ridding it of blood. 

By the time he checked on Shinobu, she was already treating the injured. Fortunately, no one died. 

Their eyes met tersely in a silent understanding. 

He sheathed his sword, and she brought out medicine. Then, they went to work. 

Shinobu didn’t ask him anything. 

Normally, she would ask him the most basic and useless things. She would poke him until she got his attention, and he would tell her to stop. 

But she didn’t. Giyuu didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. 

One day, he met Shinobu by coincidence on his way to the Butterfly Mansion to ask for her help. She was with Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Pillar. A strong woman, too. Rightfully made into a Hashira. They were wearing civilian clothing in contrast to him. 

Shinobu donned a purple kimono with Sakura petals strewn along the fabric. Her haori fitted perfectly with it. 

He didn’t understand why, but she told him he should have one, too. Giyuu considered it seriously when he noticed she was genuinely concerned about his garments. 

“Tomioka-san, I’ve patched up your haori,” she said, laying it out for him to see. 

“Thank you,” he said as he wore the clothing. It was excellently done as always. 

She leaned back, arms folded with a close-eyed smile. The sunlight caught in the strands of her hair, turning them gold for a breath before the wind tugged them loose again. Without looking at him, she said it—quiet, simple, like stating the weather. “You’re welcome, Tomioka-san. That’s what friends are for.” 

The words drifted between them like ash from a long-dead fire. His expression, carved from something harder than stone, didn’t shift. Not even a blink.

Shinobu Kochou considered him a friend. 

They were friends.

“Speaking of which, we have a mission tonight. Oyakata-sama has summoned us to Mt. Natagumo.” 

He felt something foreign and warm pressing against the edges of the walls he’d built too long ago to remember the reason.

Friends.

As if it were that easy. As if the word didn’t weigh more than steel.

Still, he didn’t argue. 

“Tomioka-san, are you listening?” 

With a snap of her fingers, he broke his trance. Giyuu blinked at her, mildly dazed. 

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit it. “You’re good at fixing things,” he promptly answered without much thought. 

She glanced over, wearing a sly smile like she’d tossed a pebble into still water just to watch the ripples. “I’m a cautious person, Tomioka-san. I try to mend things before they fall apart too far,” she said. "Clothes and people. It’s all the same."

He stood there, eyes fixated on hers. The expression on his face was unreadable—smooth and still, like water frozen before a storm knew it would come.

Her smile lingered, teasing the air like incense. He didn’t return it. Didn’t frown either. 

"Clothes and people,” he repeated. He understood what she meant—perhaps more than she knew. 

Mending things before they fell too far apart. 

There was mercy in that. There was fear in it, too.

“I see,” he said at last. Shinobu had been working hard. He should pull his weight as well.

They were friends, after all. 

“Shall we go, Tomioka-san?” 

He nodded, following her closely. 

Giyuu would try his best not to be her burden. 

Shinobu was angry. Really angry. 

For the first time, Giyuu had raised his blade against a friend when she tried to kill Nezuko. When she asked him why, he couldn’t find the proper words for it. 

She had also said some pretty hurtful words. Giyuu didn’t mind hearing it from others, but it was different if it came from her. 

“You haven't realized that people don't like you, then? I’m sorry. What I said was uncalled for." 

What did that mean? Did she dislike him, too? 

“What you're doing is against Corps rules, Tomioka-san. Please give me a reason at least." 

He had to use force on her, restraining her small body with one arm. She really was lighter than she seemed to be. 

“Tomioka-san.” 

Where should he start explaining? When Tanjiro became a demon slayer? "If I'm remembering this right, it was two years ago." 

Shinobu sighed. "Please don't start some long, rambling story from that far back in time." 

In the end, he wasn’t able to explain himself as they had been abruptly summoned to the Ubuyashiki Mansion. Shinobu still walked by his side, calm and collected as she steeled her nerves. 

She was still upset. He could tell by her silence. 

But at least, she stayed with him. 

Shinobu didn’t dislike him, he would think. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have defended Tanjiro and Nezuko in front of the other Hashiras. 

Some badmouthed him and even hurt the siblings, but Shinobu expressed herself clearly, staying on a neutral stance while reminding Shinazugawa and Obanai that everything had a proper procedure. She even got mad at Shinazugawa for once, a person who was close to her and her sister for years now. 

And, she defended him despite all. 

Giyuu appreciated Shinobu deeply. 

“Tomioka-san, it seems I’ve spoiled you with my services. Don’t you think you should treat me better? Let’s see… how about when you talk to me, you turn around and look at me properly?” 

However, after the meeting, she was still mad. Giyuu was a bit guilty. 

“Turn around, Tomioka-san.” 

Giyuu should listen to her now. He owed her that much. 

“Good. Now, repeat after me. Will you—” 

“Will you—” 

“—eat soba—” 

“—eat soba—” 

“—with me?” 

“—with… me?” 

Huh? 

All of a sudden, she wasn’t angry anymore. “My, I never thought you’d ask, Tomioka-san. Sure, let’s have soba together! I still have to check on Inosuke-kun and Zenitsu-kun, so let’s meet before sundown. The usual place, right?” 

He couldn’t utter another word. Shinobu was already leaving by the time he realized they would be having dinner together. 

“Alright. See you later, Tomioka-san.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if the usual weight of measured words had suddenly grown unfamiliar. He glanced down in brief contemplation—searching the ground for a foothold of logic that might explain what had just happened. 

This wasn’t the first time they would eat together, but there was a difference. 

Shinobu was going, and he promised himself that he should pull his own weight. 

Giyuu took a breath and stared at her retreating form. 

They were certainly going to have that dinner. 

When dinner came by, Shinobu was oddly in good spirits. 

“Tomioka-san, I couldn’t believe it, but there’s someone who actually likes you.” 

Giyuu choked on his soba. A sudden, sharp intake of breath where breath didn’t belong. He coughed once, then again, chest hitching. Shinobu laughed softly and gave him a glass of water. 

Why did she say that as if she didn’t like him? “I’m not disliked, Kochou.” He replied, voice hoarse. 

“It’s great if things are truly like that, wouldn’t it, Tomioka-san? Iguro-san and Shinazugawa-san were this close to raising their fists against you.” She raised her hand, calling the soba shokunin. “One serving of simmered salmon with daikon, please. Thank you.” 

Oh. 

Giyuu looked at her with emotions he didn’t know he had. Good ones. 

“It’s odd how you forgot to order it,” she explained. She remembered his favorite food. 

Giyuu shook his head, swallowing his food before he answered, “I didn’t.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I was thinking you grew tired of it.” Giyuu could eat it every day, but he wouldn’t want to force what he liked on Shinobu. She could’ve tolerated it for all he knew. 

Yet she shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I only eat it whenever I’m with you. So, no, I’m not tired of it since we rarely eat together.” She took a slow bite, savoring the rich, comforting flavor of the freshly cooked soba. “Maybe we should eat more often, Tomioka-san? Mitsuri-chan knows a lot of delicious restaurants—”

Giyuu found himself staring at her, her words fading at the back of his mind. 

The soba was still steaming as he lifted his chopsticks, the scent of dashi broth curling in the air between them. He ate in silence as he listened to her stories.

But he wasn’t entirely focused.

Across from him, Shinobu took a sip of tea. Her sleeves were pulled down as she drank, revealing slender wrists, delicate and precise like everything else about her. When she leaned forward to take a bite, a loose strand of hair fell across her cheek. She tucked it back without thinking.

It was an ordinary occurrence, but he watched it happen. There was a flicker of awareness now, quiet and inconvenient.

He was attracted to her. 

They shifted from the topic of restaurants to clothing. She had been talking about Western clothes made popular in Tokyo, too immersed in her own story. When their simmered salmon arrived, he split it between the two of them. 

He entertained a thought he never had, yet left it unspoken.

“Ah, thank you, Tomioka-san. Where was I?” 

“Western clothing,” he replied. “How popular it is in Tokyo.” 

“Oh, right,” she said, smiling. “You pay attention really well, Tomioka-san. Usually, you’d ask me to stop talking by now.” 

Normally, he would. But Giyuu liked talking with Shinobu, even if it was mostly her who carried the conversation. “Should I?” 

Shinobu would blink at him, smile, and continue with her story until their bowls were empty.

The moon soon replaced the sun, and it was time to return to their posts. 

“Tomioka-san, should we call each other by our first names?” She asked nonchalantly and unexpectedly. 

It caught Giyuu off guard. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, Tomioka-san. There shouldn’t be any problem with it, no? Tanjiro-kun calls you by your first name. Hmm… maybe that’s a step too far. How about this?” Shinobu craned her head to the side, purple eyes shining brightly against the lantern lights. 

“Let’s be friends, Tomioka-san.” 

She said simply. She said it like it wasn’t something that could unseat him. But it did.

He blinked, slowly, his hands hanging idly by his side. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he hadn’t expected the question. 

Of course, they were friends. Hadn’t they always been? 

Or at least—he’d thought they were. He thought the long walks in their joint mission, the occasional meals, the quiet moments that never needed filling—all of that was friendship.

So why was she asking?

“Kochou,” he whispered, just enough for her to hear. “Are we not friends this whole time?” 

Shinobu gave a small smile, one that certainly reached her eyes. “We are, Tomioka-san.” She would say how friends should rely on each other—how they should be more open and understanding. Giyuu realized he had been unfair by keeping things from her, even if he didn’t mean to. 

She wanted to know more of him. It had been a long time since he felt this way—since he felt treasured. “Shinobu,” he said. “I can’t be as chatty as you.”

“Giyuu-san,” she called. His name sounded great in her voice. “You don’t have to cross a bridge that steep. A few sentences would do. I won’t pressure you.” 

Yes, she had always been this way. Understanding and kind. 

“I’ll try,” he honestly promised. 

Shinobu blinked slowly, thoughts going to places Giyuu didn’t know. Her mouth opened slightly, words unformed, and it curved into a grateful open-mouthed smile. 

It was a beautiful sight. 

“Okay. That’s a promise.”

Tonight, something moved within him—a thread tugged loose from a seam he didn’t know existed. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t announce itself. It sat quietly in the center of his chest. 

Giyuu wasn’t sure if he should feel this way for a friend. 

Because Shinobu Kochou meant more to him than that. 

Giyuu hadn’t slept enough lately. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of Shinobu. Guilt had, once again, consumed him. He shouldn’t think of his comrade this way, especially of his friend. 

“Do not forget, Kochou. We are Hashira.” 

This was unbecoming of him. 

They are Hashiras regardless of their wishes. They could only be one because they had someone to be strong for. And not once had he forgotten the reason why he swings his blade—why he became a demon slayer. Giyuu Tomioka did not waver when it came to demons. 

But he did waver when it came to Shinobu Kochou. 

Now, standing amid the scent of wisteria and old memories, he realized she had become part of his silence. The way her voice lingered in his thoughts when he was alone. The way her presence filled the air, even in her absence. The way her smile made his chest ache—not from pain, but from the unfamiliarity of wanting something for himself.

He stepped through the garden path slowly, going to the cherry blossom that was in full bloom. 

Then, as if summoned by the mere act of longing, she appeared.

Shinobu stood beneath the tree, a strand of hair falling loosely over her cheek. She looked up, eyes catching his like the first strike of lightning before a storm.

“Ah,” she said, smiling. “So the stone-faced Water Hashira does know how to find his way to the Butterfly Mansion without official summons. Should I be honored, or concerned? From what I remember, we have no joint mission tonight.”

Giyuu also realized that his thoughts brought him to her home. Did he have any excuse to be here? 

“Ne, Giyuu-san, are you lost?” She stepped forward, letting her shadow spill across his shoulder like an unspoken challenge. “Or... perhaps you're just here to see me?”

What should he say?

His eyes shifted to hers, briefly. “You’re loud.” 

“By your standards, everyone would be loud,” she replied.

“Shinobu-san, you have a letter from Oyakata-sama,” Aoi called out to her. She visibly flinched when she saw Shinobu wasn’t alone. Giyuu only bowed his head and turned around to leave. 

He had seen Kochou today. This was enough. 

“Wait, Giyuu-san.” Shinobu reached for the sleeve of his haori, tugging him back. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving when you just got here. Come, take a seat. It’s not often you visit me.” 

“... Who told you I’m visiting you?” 

“Oh, are you visiting someone else? Tanjiro-kun was released a month ago.” A small smile curved her lips. “Ah, but maybe it’s not a person you’re visiting, but this beautiful tree behind me.” 

“...” 

Shinobu let go of his haori and walked to the open room. “Aoi-chan, please bring me my brush. I’ll be writing here to keep our guest company.” 

He blinked slowly, face remained stoic. “You don’t have to.” 

“I know, and I would very much like to give you and that tree some alone time—” 

Giyuu noticeably frowned at that. 

“—but I would also like to stay with you. So, please indulge this young woman’s request. I’ll let you sleep under the tree for tonight.” 

“Shinobu.” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m not here for the tree,” he replied without missing a beat.

Shinobu’s eyes softened, though her smile stayed in place. “I know.” 

Gently, she unfolded the letter and read its contents. Soon, Aoi delivered her brush, her inkstone, and a small table by the engawa, and Shinobu immediately wrote her response. 

Giyuu stayed under the cherry blossom while she did so. He had been standing there this whole time.

Her eyes remained on the paper. “Giyuu-san, you can sit with me. I won’t bite.” She patted the space beside hers. “Here, join me. Please sit here.” 

“I’m comfortable here,” he defended in slight panic. 

She paused, the brush hovering just above the page, the last line still wet and glistening in the lantern light. “Are you saying you’re uncomfortable when I’m next to you, Giyuu-san?” 

Giyuu closed his eyes and surrendered, at a genuine loss for words. He steadied his breathing and approached her, inevitably occupying the space next to hers. She wore a satisfied smile as she returned to writing.

What a truly odd woman. 

He watched her work silently. Breathing steadily and expression unreadable. She muttered something under her breath—a calculation, a warning, but surely something related to medicine and wisteria poison—and dipped her brush into the inkstone, pressing the tip lightly against the paper.

That was when it hit him.

A strange ache, not painful, but terrifying in its clarity.

Giyuu was not a man prone to indulgence, least of all in matters of the heart. Emotion, to him, was a thing to be mastered—like a blade honed daily on the whetstone of discipline.

He looked at her, and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. Every memory of her pressed forward in his mind, demanding to be reevaluated. Every smile, every offhanded remark, every shared hour—suddenly luminous with a meaning he had been too careful to name.

He wasn’t just attracted to her. He was in love with her.

The realization didn’t shatter him—it was gentler than that. But it was final. There would be no returning to the way things were.

And still, he said nothing.

Because love, to him, was not a declaration. It was a vigil. A quiet honoring. And at that moment, he vowed, not with words, but with the quiet conviction of a man who has never spoken lies—that he would carry it and keep it.

Even if he did not deserve to feel this way. 

“Giyuu-san?” She called, unaware of how his name on her lips affected him. “I know you always look out of it, but you really look like one right now. Tell me, what are you thinking?” 

You. But he didn’t say that. 

“Soba,” he said quietly, as if he shared a secret. “Will you eat soba with me?” 

Shinobu blinked slowly, eyes going to the cherry blossom tree as she recalled their earlier conversation. “We had soba the other day, didn’t we?” 

Giyuu, in his silence, actually lost his composure. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Was she getting tired of soba? What if she didn’t want to eat with him anymore? “Do you dislike soba?” 

She made a face as if she considered it, lips curving to a frown. “Giyuu-san, if I disliked soba, then I wouldn’t have tricked you into asking me in the first place.” 

He watched as she folded the letter delicately, sealing it with a butterfly-shaped crest, then set it aside for delivery with the morning courier. Then, she walked toward the garden, motioning him to follow. 

“Does that mean… you don’t dislike soba?”

Shinobu raised her eyes, and then she chuckled. The question was ridiculous. “I don’t dislike soba,” she answered, waiting for him. “But I would like to explore options. Let’s take our time, Giyuu-san. I’m sure the moon will be beautiful tonight, as it was yesterday. You’re not allergic to anything, right?” 

Languidly, he followed her outside the Butterfly Mansion. They would bid Aoi and the other girls a good evening and slip their sandals on. 

“What do you think about donburi?” He asked. 

“It’s good. Do you like Unadon, Giyuu-san?” 

Giyuu raised his eyes to the sky, thinking. “I haven’t tried it.” 

Shinobu mocked a gasp. “You’re terribly missing out. How about Tsukudani over rice?” He gave a slow shrug, the kind that usually ended conversations.

But this time, it didn’t. It never did whenever he talked with Shinobu. 

“We must try it, Giyuu-san. At least once in your life. Come, I know a good place. It’s usually full, so we have to hurry.” She walked ahead, palms open as she let her hands fall to her sides. Her haori clung to her arms loosely as the breeze blew past them, softly and comfortably. 

Giyuu wanted to reach for her. Not to pull her closer, not to say anything, just… to touch the back of her hand with his. A simple thing. A quiet gesture. But to him, it felt like crossing a sea.

He would not hold her hand.

Not tonight, at least.

Chapter Text

Giyuu and Shinobu sat side by side at the Hashira meeting. 

Something had changed between them. Mitsuri Kanroji was the first to pay attention to it. 

Usually, Giyuu would sit at the farthest side, almost hidden behind a huge man like Uzui, while Shinobu would be in the middle, between her and Muichirou. However, this time, Shinobu followed Giyuu to his usual spot. Uzui sat on the other side of her instead. 

Whatever was noticed remained unsaid. Neither of them seemed to mind.

“The weather has fared us well. How have you all been?” Ubuyashiki greeted. The semi-annual Hashira meeting would always begin this way. 

And just like usual, Giyuu hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the meeting. How cool! 

Being the corps medic naturally makes Shinobu the exact opposite of him, mostly speaking throughout the gathering for medicinal breakthroughs and poison-making. She’s smart and hardworking. How cute! 

Kanroji felt like she should work harder whenever she was with them. And while she was amazed by her colleagues, she noticed Giyuu stealing glances at Shinobu while she spoke. 

Oh? What was this about?

Kanroji’s senses were tingling. 

The conversation moved onto their individual posts, which were mainly handled by Gyomei, Kyojuro, and Obanai, and maybe Tengen. They were discussing possible leads to Kibutsuji Muzan, while also complaining about how Tanjiro easily encountered the progenitor of demons so effortlessly, much to Tengen’s chagrin.

While they were talking, she saw Giyuu lean closer to Shinobu’s ear. 

What was this?!  

Kanroji needed to know. Her curiosity was stronger than her restraint. She scooted closer to their side, unknowingly hitting Iguro’s arm. “Ah, I’m sorry, Iguro-san.” 

Iguro sat frozen, rigidly shaking his head. “It’s fine, Kanroji.” She always appreciated Iguro. He was so nice to her. 

Then, she leaned a little on his shoulder, trying to eavesdrop. Iguro stopped speaking altogether.

“Huh? Why’d you stop talking, Iguro?” 

Iguro was struggling with his words. Kanroji was too close to him. “You… should take over, Shinazugawa.” 

Kanroji, oblivious to her surroundings, could barely make sense of Giyuu’s naturally low voice.  “Shinobu… you… right?”  

He called her by her first name! Kanroji was fighting herself not to squeal. 

Shinobu turned her head slightly, enough to catch his eyes. “I’m…—right, Giyuu-san.” 

They were both on a first-name basis?!?

Her smile never left her face. Kanroji moved back and sat properly, giving Iguro space to breathe. She would have to ask Shinobu all the details after their meeting. 

Their semi-annual gathering proceeded with less friction than before. Other than formalities and kizuki sightings, they discussed mission assignments and tsuguko training. When the Oyakata asked how Giyuu and Shinobu had been doing in their joint missions, it was Giyuu who answered, shockingly. 

“It has been going well, Oyakata-sama.” 

Shinobu merely wore a close-eyed smile, but that faint streak of pink on her cheeks didn’t lie. Kanroji beamed, like flowers were coming out of her head. 

“Oi, Iguro. What’s up with Kanroji?” Sanemi asked, irked. 

Iguro turned to her, humming idly. “She’s in a good mood.” 

“Obviously. I’m asking why.” 

Heterochromatic eyes examined her subtle movements. A smile made its way to his face. “I don’t know, but it should be good if it makes her this happy.” 

“You’re impossible,” Sanemi muttered. “Why do I even bother with these shi—”

“With this, our meeting has adjourned. Thank you for taking the time to come and visit. I bid you the safest travels, my children,” Ubuyashiki said, and Sanemi clamped his mouth shut. 

They bowed their heads, wishing the same. 

“Shinobu-chan!” Kanroji came to her more cheerful than usual after the Oyakata left. “I see you've arrived with Tomioka-san. Did you two come from a mission?” 

Shinobu blinked rapidly, all too aware of where this was heading. She should move away from Giyuu before this spirals out of hand. “Ye—”

“No,” Giyuu answered. The two women looked at him, eyes wide. “I was in the Butterfly Mansion when we were summoned, so we came together.” 

Kanroji couldn’t be any more subtle. She squealed, sleeves over her mouth in a useless attempt to muffle her joy for her friend. Shinobu raised a hand to her face, sighing at what was about to unfold. “Tomioka-san, can I borrow Shinobu-chan tonight?” 

Giyuu stared at her, confused as to why she was asking him and not Shinobu. Was it because they would eat dinner together? Did Kanroji know about that?

“Oi, Tomioka. Stop staring at Kanroji.” A seething Iguro called from the back. 

“I don’t think he’s staring at all, Iguro! I think he’s thinking. Tomioka stares when he thinks!” Rengoku remarked. 

“Then, he’s thinking about Kanroji?” Iguro asked, eyes half-lidded as it annoyed him even further. 

Like always, Giyuu ignored him. He dipped his gaze to Shinobu’s. “Shinobu, will it be alright if we have dinner some other time?” He knew women preferred to have time to themselves. His older sister was the same whenever her friends came over to their humble home. 

Shinobu widened her eyes, glancing left and right to see other Hashiras just as surprised as she was. Uzui was dumbstruck. Shinazugawa had tick marks on his head. Gyomei, for some reason, looked satisfied. Iguro’s annoyance dissipated into amusement. Rengoku had an open-mouthed smile. And Muichirou was in his own world. 

“Oh, that’s quite fine, G—” Kanroji was grinning at her. Shinobu couldn’t say his name. “G-Gyudon should be nice, Mitsuri-chan.”  

“Huh? Shinobu-chan, weren’t you talking to Tomio—” Shinobu didn’t let her finish. She dragged Kanroji outside the mansion, leaving a dazed Giyuu with the rest of the other Hashira. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Kanroji could still hear Shinazugawa’s angry voice from afar. 

“...”

“Oi, Tomioka, where are you going? Get back here!” 

Tengen Uzui watched as Giyuu ran away left the Ubuyashiki Mansion. Sanemi was held back by Gyomei from storming to where the Water Hashira disappeared. 

“Let them be, Shinazugawa,” Gyomei said in finality. “It is about time they face the truth.” 

“What truth?!” It only made Sanemi burst flamboyantly. 

Himejima laid his hands flat against each other. “Namu Amida Butsu.” 

Guess they weren’t getting any answers tonight. 

Even so, Uzui knew what this was about. Iguro looked like he did as well, as he was no longer annoyed at Tomioka. Perhaps, only those who experienced and realized the emotion truly knew what this was. Or, maybe Shinazugawa was still in denial. 

Rengoku laughed fondly, yet loudly as well, given his flamboyant personality. “They are at the peak of their youth! It’s great that Tomioka gets to experience these things.” See? Even Rengoku wasn’t in the dark regarding matters of the heart. 

“Tomioka-san is older than you, Rengoku-san.” Muichirou reminded him. 

“You’re right! It doesn’t feel like it, though!” 

Tengen shifted as he leaned back against the rough wooden pillar, his dazzling gemstones catching the dim light and scattering it like a shattered prism. A slow, incredulous chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, the sound rich and amused, as if he’d just witnessed a cosmic joke tailored specifically for him.

Giyuu harbored feelings for Shinobu Kochou. He was so awkward yet obvious. 

“No way... you’re seriously telling me that happened?” he said, voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and delight. “You’ve got to be joking! Only the gods could have scripted something this ridiculous.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue. He was still in denial as he left for his own station. 

Nightfall had descended. They have no time for this. 

Yet, Tengen’s mismatched colored nails drummed an erratic rhythm against the pillar, eyes glittering with mirth. A broad grin cracked across his face. “That Tomioka. I didn’t know he had it in him.” 

How entertaining. He should keep observing them and tell this story to his wives later on.

But alas, months would come, and in the rare times Tengen would encounter Giyuu and Shinobu, they were considerably lacking in action. 

It was merely a coincidence. When Tengen visited the Butterfly Mansion to restock his wisteria poison, Shinobu was also there. A part of him was curious about their progress, but Shinobu wore the smile his wives would wear when they tolerated no bullshit. 

“Uzui-san, you’re a busy person, no? Please don’t mind me. I wouldn’t want to delay you any further.” In short, she asked him to leave once he finished his business. 

Fortunately, Tengen understood women, so he checked up on the other person concerned instead. 

He wasn’t prying. Certainly not. Tengen, being a natural extrovert, knew Giyuu must’ve struggled with this on his own, so he didn’t know how painfully transparent his yearning was. It was simply a pain to watch this unfold terribly for a quiet guy like him. 

If he did nothing, Tengen would keep seeing them prance around until his elderly years. Giyuu needed a push. 

Who else could do it but him?

“I knew it,” he grinned, casually sitting on a tree branch in Giyuu’s garden. He brazenly went over the wooden gate of the Water Hashira’s home and found Giyuu by his koi pond, feeding fish. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” 

Giyuu looked up, face unreadable. “... What?” 

“It’s obvious. You haven’t told the little woman what you feel.” 

“Little woman?” 

“The deadly one. Kochou.” 

Giyuu was dumbfounded. “How did you—”

Tengen cut him off. “And here I hoped a flashy side of you would finally appear. Look, Tomioka, I know life is not a race, but you’re two years younger than me, and you never even dated. As your senior—” 

“I’m a demon slayer. Dating is not an option for me.” That was the longest sentence Giyuu had told Tengen in the span of five years.

“—so am I, but here I am. Married to three beautiful and flashy women.” Then, he whistled. He paid attention to how Giyuu didn’t deny his feelings. “Where was I? Ah, right. As your senior, who is kind enough to guide a lost sheep, I take it upon myself to be your savior.” 

Giyuu got tired of feeding fish. “Uzui—” 

“Call me Tengen-sama from now on. We’ve known each other for a long time after all.” 

“Tengen,” he corrected. “I’m satisfied with where I am right now.” 

“Are you really? All I hear is someone who’s visibly lacking one important element.” Tengen hopped down and clapped Giyuu on the back, nearly knocking him off-balance into the pond. “Backbone, Tomioka. Backbone.” 

Giyuu coughed a little, taken aback by the sudden impact. 

Tengen continued, “Kochou is a highly capable woman. You’d be surprised how many men asked for her hand in marriage.” This caused the younger man to widen his eyes, frozen stiff at the revelation. “Oyakata-sama turned them down for her since she’s already busy with her own things. But who knows? The future is unsure, especially for people like us.” 

Silence befell Giyuu, an uncomfortable one. Tengen could hear the ramming of his heartbeat. His breathing swayed from its natural rhythm as well. 

What a serious case this was. 

“Look, you’ve got two options. You can sit here, brooding like the wind just insulted you… Or you can march over there, look Kochou in the eye, and dazzle her.” 

Giyuu considered his words. It was too much for him. 

“Dazzle, Tomioka. Dazzle her in your own way.” Tengen might need the help of his wives for this helpless case. “Keep it simple. No poetry. No fireworks. Just say what’s on your mind. That’s how you dazzle. Not everyone can be me, after all.” 

Giyuu stared blankly as a falling leaf landed in the pond. It rippled gently once it touched the surface, a calm disturbance yet welcomed by the fish swimming underneath it. 

His mind brought him back to his childhood—back to the moment he first saw his older sister in love. He recalled how his supposed brother-in-law treated her, and he certainly didn’t hold back in treating her right, even when he couldn’t accept her death. 

Confessing was only the start of it. Giyuu wouldn’t mind if Shinobu rejected him. She just had to know of him. 

“Tengen.” 

“What? Need more advice?” 

“You talk too much,” he plainly said, exhaling through his nose. Then, he got up from his seat and grabbed his sword. “Also, use the front door next time.” 

Tengen let out a laugh—loud, unrestrained, like a cymbal crashing through silence. He could hear Giyuu’s heartbeat, and it was the most flamboyant sound he had ever heard from this emotionally constipated person. “You’re welcome, by the way!” 

Giyuu sighed and left. 

“This is a great coincidence, Tomioka! How rare it is to see you here!” Kyojuro Rengoku greeted Giyuu when they coincidentally passed by each other in the Ebara District in Tokyo. 

This was where Rengoku lived. It was also part of his territory to monitor for demon attacks. 

“Rengoku,” he greeted in return. It might not be obvious, but Rengoku knew Giyuu was a great man beyond his silence. He was just immensely reserved and quiet. 

Rengoku respected him, especially his hard work. “Have you eaten lunch? I just finished eating after watching a sumo wrestling match!” He noticed that, despite it being morning, Giyuu was already in his Demon Slayer uniform. Rengoku was wearing his casual attire. 

Giyuu took his time answering. Kyojuro was used to this. “I already ate.”

“Hmm?! Did you say anything?” 

Giyuu paused. The Flame Hashira always had a hard time hearing him. “I already ate,” he repeated with emphasis. 

“Oh! Then, if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you here if not for food?” 

“Clothes,” he replied, a little more sullen than usual. “The tailor I know relocated.” 

Kyojuro blinked at him, thoughts whirring into different scenarios since Giyuu didn’t say anything more than that. Naturally, the Water Hashira spoke with a soft tone, but he sounded a bit down. Kyojuro guessed the tailor he sought had relocated away rather than otherwise. 

“For civilian attire, I assume?” Kyojuro beamed, wearing a grin that bloomed like dawn. “It’s good to wear something beyond our duty, once in a while,” he said, tone thoughtful. “To remind yourself you’re still human.”

Giyuu said nothing at first. He shifted his weight slightly, the fabric of his uniform whispering like reeds in the wind. His face betrayed little as always, but Kyojuro had known him long enough to recognize silence as a language of its own.

“Shinobu said the same thing,” he replied. 

“She did?” 

“Not exactly, but similar to that.” 

Then, it clicked for Kyojuro. 

Giyuu was doing this for Shinobu! 

Kyojuro laughed. It sounded like the joy of a man who had found something good in an unexpected place. “You know, I’ve been thinking of getting a new one for myself. Come, Tomioka! Allow me to help.” An expert conversationalist on his own, Kyojuro managed to make Giyuu follow him without a beat. 

“Do you have a color in mind?” He asked.

A moment passed, filled only by the sounds of townspeople bartering and the distant clatter of hooves on stone. Giyuu’s gaze dropped to his sleeves.

“Shinobu said I looked good in white.” 

Kyojuro blinked, then let out a hearty laugh that startled a nearby merchant. It was great she didn’t suggest blue. “You can never go wrong with white! How sharp of her. She also considered your nature.” 

Giyuu raised a brow, silently asking him to expound. 

“It should fit well under your haori,” he explained. “The color white doesn’t shout. It’s quiet. Strong. It draws the eye not because it demands attention, but because it naturally blends with everything else.”

Giyuu blinked slowly. Silence again—but it felt different now. Not closed off or defensive. “Rengoku, you sound like a tailor.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kyojuro said brightly. “Perhaps I should ask Shinobu what color would fit me? She always had great fashion sense!” 

They walked until they reached a textile shop, a humble-looking one compared to when Giyuu was with Kochou, but it seemed like it held a long history with the fabrics displayed at the window. 

“Come,” Kyojuro said, leading the way inside. “Let’s find something that says I’m not going to a funeral, but I could slay a demon if necessary.”

Giyuu didn’t protest.

Instead, he let out the faintest exhale that could almost be mistaken for a laugh.

Kanroji had been talking about Shinobu and Giyuu these days. Iguro would’ve been okay with it if only Giyuu weren’t in the picture. 

“Ne, Iguro-san, don’t you think they’re cute?” Mitsuri was cuter, but that wasn’t a question. 

It bothered him to no end. The rare moments Iguro would have his leisure with Kanroji were taken by her constant concern and care for the two other Hashira. Iguro didn’t care for them. Shinobu, maybe he cared for, since she was smart and crafty with how she killed demons. Giyuu was a solid no. 

Kanroji was mystified whenever love was involved. When she tried to play matchmaker between the two, Iguro had to stop her. 

“Kanroji, you should let them be. These things develop naturally.” 

However, that didn’t mean he would let them be. After months of Tomioka’s dilly-dallying, Iguro had had enough. 

“Tomioka, you’re a nuisance.” 

Giyuu, who had just arrived at Uzui’s home with the Flame Hashira, looked at him blankly. It was as if he was surprised Iguro would be there. Kyojuro, however, brightened by a mile. “Iguro, what a pleasant day it is! Did Uzui call for you, too?” 

“He did,” Iguro replied, heterochromatic eyes back at Giyuu. “I have no idea what for, but he said it’s important. Seeing as Tomioka is also here, it makes things easier for me.” 

For once, Giyuu actually spoke back at him. “Do you need anything from me?” 

Iguro narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him. “You. Whatever’s going on with you and Shinobu Kochou. Do it fast. You’re worrying Kanroji.” 

Giyuu glanced at the finger poking his chest. It reminded him of how Shinobu did the same, albeit to annoy him. 

“Oi, Tomioka. I’m talking to you. What are you thinking?” 

“Shinobu.” 

Iguro sighed. He was getting a headache. “That’s the problem. You’re only thinking of her. Why don’t you try telling her what you’re thinking and be done with this?” 

Kyojuro, oblivious to Iguro’s temper, laughed it off, arms folded across his chest. “That’s a great tip, Iguro! You should try that with Kanroji sometimes.” 

Iguro stilled, blinking in shock. “...What?” 

Uzui’s guffaws echoed from his home. He came out in civilian attire, donning a long maroon kimono fit for his rather large build. He let his hair loose as he matched his entrance with a handsome grin. 

“Well said, Rengoku. Well said.” He placed an arm around both Giyuu and Iguro, leaning his weight against theirs. “And I see you’re still in your uniforms. It’s morning, my juniors. You should be like Rengoku here, enjoying normalcy with civilian attire. No demons will strike while the sun is up.” 

“You’re heavy,” Iguro slipped away from him, frowning. 

“It’s still not done,” Giyuu replied. 

“See? Even Tomioka’s getting one,” Uzui said. It only made Iguro annoyed. 

“Do you want me to introduce you to a tailor, Iguro? I know a great one!” Kyojuro offered. 

“I don’t need one.” 

“Is that so? But Mitsuri gets her clothes done from them, too.” 

Iguro deliberated about it. “... Alright. Maybe later after this.” Then, he raised his eyes and shifted to Tengen. “Why did you call us, Tengen?” 

Tengen hummed, raising a hand under his chin. “Because Tomioka needs help with expressing himself. Rengoku joined since he’s free and a great charmer to the ladies.” 

Iguro’s brow twitched. “Why am I here, too?” 

“So you can learn with him as well.”

Giyuu nodded in understanding, offering a small smile. 

Tick marks sprouted in Iguro’s head. 

“I don’t need your help. I’m out of here.” 

Shinobu noticed Giyuu had been with odd people for the past few days. Those odd people being Rengoku and Uzui. The loudest ones of all the Hashira. 

Ah, but don’t get her wrong. She was happy. Giyuu’s number of friends had grown. 

But what made it even weirder was Iguro joining the group. 

It was quite the sight. She saw the four of them together, entirely by coincidence, at Uzui’s house when she visited his wives. They were all huddled in a room, concentrated on a matter she didn’t know. 

When Iguro noticed her, he merely bowed his head and waved. Kaburamaru settled on top of his head, sleeping. 

Shinobu, dazed and confused, waved back with a close-eyed smile. 

“Ah, Shinobu-chan! Sorry for the long wait. Let’s go!” Before she could ask anything about it, Suma pulled her by the arm, and Makio blocked her view. When she looked over at Hinatsuru, the woman only shook her head and smiled dearly. 

Uzui’s wives were something else. Shinobu couldn’t help but get swept along with their flow since they reminded her of Kanae. 

Days would go by, and the peculiarity continued. Shinobu brought it up once with Giyuu when they shared a meal, and he sat stiff in his seat. No matter how much probing or poking she did, he kept his mouth shut. 

Fine, she thought. He wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. 

And as far as secrets go, Giyuu would find himself outside the Butterfly Estate again, with a different purpose altogether. 

“Shinobu, I will be busy,” he said, staying by her wooden gate. “However, if we get called for official business, I will be there.” 

“Oh? Is that all, Giyuu-san? Did you really come here just to say that?” She asked, tilting her head close as her eyes gleamed in curiosity. “I thought you wrote letters.” She never asked about his secret business, but she couldn’t help but think this was related to it. 

He held her gaze, finding the right words to say. “I was… nearby.” 

“Were you? How convenient.” She moved back. He was getting better with eye contact. And, knowing him and his natural oddity, he wouldn’t be staying. “Giyuu-san, will you be going now?” 

He nodded slowly, and Shinobu looked at him expectantly. Then, after a few passing seconds, he turned his back on her. 

“Giyuu-san, you're supposed to say something before you leave.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

Well, his communication skills could still use more sharpening. “I know, but that’s not it. You have to try more,” Shinobu said, laughing softly. “You’re supposed to express well-wishes, or maybe even compliment the person you're visiting, and bid them a good day.” 

He shifted toward her and considered her words seriously. 

“Shinobu.” 

“Yes, Giyuu-san?” 

Then, he smiled. Just a little. Enough for her to know he really did try. “You’ve grown taller.” 

?!?!?!? 

“Then, please have a good day.” Giyuu turned and began walking off. 

Shinobu’s smile twitched as her hands lay limp on her sides. The fact that he was sincere about it annoyed her even further. 

“When I told you to compliment her appearance, I didn’t mean her height. That’s a sensitive topic for Kochou.” 

Iguro visibly sighed as he stopped by Giyuu’s home. He carried a jar of honey with him, evident that he came from Kanroji’s place. “Good luck redeeming yourself, Tomioka. You dug your own grave. Ah, and here, Kanroji wants to give this to you.” 

Giyuu received the jar of honey, blinking idly. He couldn't believe Iguro came to his house on purpose. “Why?” 

“When someone gives you a gift, you thank them, Tomioka. You'd better thank Kanroji when you see her and don't ever waste a drop.” Iguro furrowed his brows, annoyed. Then, he backed down and turned. “She was happy we’re talking.” 

A small smile appeared on Giyuu’s mouth. “Thank you, Iguro.” 

“Thank Kanroji, or I’ll end you,” he said as he left. 

Once alone, Giyu let out a slow breath, eyes trained on the treetops. There was peace in his chest that he hadn’t earned through battle. 

As he held Kanroji’s freshly prepared honey, he reminisced. He reminisced about how he carried the burden of guilt and convinced himself it was enough to bear it alone. 

To be alone. 

But now, there were others beside him. Not ghosts. Not memories. The living, stubborn, foolish, kind people. People who had pulled him from the stillness like a blade drawn from its sheath—people who meddled enough in his life because they cared in their own way. 

He was no longer alone. 

He didn't know when it had happened. Maybe it was the quiet determination in Tanjiro’s eyes. Or the way Shinobu had stubbornly opened his shell—not with contempt, but with a hope she refused to voice. 

Maybe it was just time. Time and silence, melting into one perfect harmony. 

Kanzaburo squawked from the roof, breaking Giyuu out of trance. 

“Joint Mission! Insect Hashira! Joint Mission! Tonight!” 

The crow flew straight to a tree, lost within its leaves. Giyuu sighed and placed the honey safely on the ground. Then, he climbed up the tree and retrieved his old Kasugai crow.

He should be ready. He will be seeing Shinobu tonight. 

And by ready, Giyuu meant something else. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Tomioka?” Sanemi asked, dislike etched in his face as he scowled at him. They were just outside his estate. 

Giyuu stood a few steps away, calm and composed. His face bore no anger nor hesitance, only a firm resolve. Besides, he didn't want to intrude more than he should've. 

"You didn’t bring me out here just to watch the damn sunset, did you?" Sanemi grunted, shooting Giyuu a sidelong glance. "Spit it out."

"I’ve come to tell you something. And I didn’t want to do it in passing, or through anyone else." Giyuu breathed softly, expressing one clear thought. “I’ll be pursuing Shinobu.” 

Sanemi didn’t move at first. He blinked, as if the words hadn’t fully landed. Then his jaw clenched. "You what?"

"I care for her," Giyuu said, unwavering. "Deeply. Regardless of whether she feels the same. And before I take any step forward, I wanted to tell you because she’s—"

"She’s Kanae’s sister," Sanemi interrupted, his voice sharp like a blade drawn half an inch from its sheath. "Kanae, who…" He trailed off. Kanae’s memory was an ache too old and too deep to name aloud again.

"I know what she meant to you," Giyuu said gently. "That’s why I’m telling you now. Not to ask permission. But out of respect. For you. For Kanae. For Shinobu."

Sanemi clenched his fists. His fingers were white as his nails left crescent-shaped marks against his palm. "You think I’m gonna give you some blessing, like an old man on his deathbed?"

"No," Giyuu answered simply. "You’re going to say whatever you need to, and I’ll accept it."

Silence stretched. A cicada called from deep in the trees.

When Sanemi finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "She’s all that’s left of Kanae. You understand that? If she gets hurt—if she breaks because of you—I’ll never forgive you."

Giyuu nodded. "I wouldn’t forgive myself, either."

Sanemi turned back, and for the first time, there was no fury in his eyes—only something raw, something close to grief. "You better mean it, Tomioka. She’s not someone you can love halfway."

"I don’t intend to," Giyuu said. "With Shinobu, it’s all or nothing."

A tense beat passed. Then, Sanemi gave the smallest of nods—barely more than a twitch of his chin—and turned back to his home, walking down the porch steps and vanishing into his abode.

Giyuu stood alone, the silence now heavier but somehow clearer. 

He changed directions and walked. There was one more place he should go to. 

The sun had begun its slow descent beyond the mountains, casting long shadows across the worn stones of the Stone Hashira’s training grounds. Giyuu stood at the edge of the clearing, his presence almost lost to the waning light. 

Before him, seated on a low stone, was Gyomei Himejima. The great man’s eyes, though clouded by blindness, turned slightly as if he had sensed Giyuu’s presence long before he had stepped into the open.

“Speak, Tomioka,” came the deep, resonant voice—gentle as distant thunder.

Giyuu bowed, his raven hair falling over his eyes. “Forgive the intrusion, Himejima-san.”

“You are always welcome here,” Gyomei replied, his fingers still moving in the soft, methodical motion of prayer. “But I sense this is not a mere visit.”

A pause hung between them. Giyuu was not a man of easy words. His throat tightened with a rare kind of vulnerability—not the kind born of battle wounds, but of something more fragile, more human.

“I have come to ask,” he began slowly, his voice low, “for your blessing.”

The beads stopped moving.

“I wish to pursue Shinobu Kochou,” he said at last. “Not as a fellow Hashira… but as a man.”

Gyomei’s head tilted slightly. Though his eyes could not see, it felt as though his soul had turned to examine the confession fully. “Kochou-san…” he murmured, voice soft and almost reverent. “A rare spirit. Strong, but burdened. As are you.”

Giyuu’s hands clenched at his sides. He had not come to argue his worth—he had come because he knew she was worth the reverence of ceremony, of asking those who stood with her through grief and war. 

He had come because love, if it was to last in a world stained by blood, must begin with humility.

Tsutako Tomioka was treated as such. Shinobu Kochou would be the same.

Gyomei rose slowly, towering above Giyuu like a statue carved from earth and devotion. He took a step forward, then reached out with both hands. His palms settled gently on Giyuu’s shoulders, and Giyuu stilled.

“If you can carry her heart,” Gyomei said, his voice deep with quiet strength, “as one carries a lantern through the storm—never letting its flame die—I give you my blessing.”

Giyuu bowed deeply, the weight in his chest shifting—not gone, but eased. In the soft hush of dusk, beneath the vast sky of a world still at war, something hopeful had been spoken into being.

After offering his blessing, Gyomei remained still, as if considering whether to speak again. Giyuu waited, respectful and quiet, though a flicker of unease danced at the edges of his calm expression.

Then, the Stone Hashira turned without a word and motioned for Giyuu to follow.

They walked in silence through the temple path, the lanterns just beginning to glow with the soft burn of evening light. Crickets had begun their songs, and the stones beneath their feet were still warm with the day’s sun.

They entered a quiet chamber, tucked into the temple’s eastern wing. Here, the air smelled faintly of sandalwood and dried flowers. Scrolls lined the walls, and in the center of the room stood a simple wooden chest, old and well-kept. Gyomei knelt before it with reverent care, the floor creaking gently beneath his weight.

“This,” he said, placing a large hand on the lid, “was entrusted to me by Kanae Kochou, before her passing.”

Half-lidded blue eyes stared at the box. He had an inkling what was inside. 

“Every Hashira has a written will, and she specifically wrote a separate one addressed to me,” Gyomei continued, “This contained her last wishes for her sister in case… fate allowed Shinobu to know peace again.”

He opened the chest slowly, as though lifting the past itself. From within, wrapped in a pale lavender silk cloth, he drew a small wooden box no larger than his palm. He placed it between them and opened it with the gentleness of a prayer.

Inside lay a ring.

Delicate. Wrought from silver, shaped like a winding wisteria vine. At its center, a tiny amethyst gleamed, catching the lantern light with an ethereal glow. 

“Kanae had it made in secret,” Gyomei said, voice low, “after Shinobu once admitted, as a girl, that she didn’t think love would ever find someone like her. That she was filled with anger and hatred for demons. Too selfless without a future. Kanae… never wanted that for her, yet respected her wishes.”

Giyuu stared at the ring with a heaviness in his chest that words could not hold.

“She told me,” Gyomei said, closing the box with care, “to give it to someone—not just anyone, but someone who saw Shinobu’s fire, and would not fear it. Someone who could offer her stillness, not to quiet her, but to give her rest.”

He turned the box toward Giyuu. “I believe she would have wanted you to have this when the time was right.”

Giyuu looked down at the small offering, his throat tight. Reverently, he accepted it with both hands. “I won’t give it to her yet,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Not until she’s ready.”

Gyomei nodded. The beads at his wrist moved as he returned to prayer. “When that time comes,” he said, “you will know. And so will she.”

Outside, the wind moved through the trees in soft murmurs, like a blessing whispered from a sister long gone, but never truly absent.

The confession had been planned intricately by four combined minds—plus three, if Giyuu were to count Uzui’s wives. 

“Food. It has to start over a meal.” Tengen said he could never go wrong with food. Since Giyuu knew what Shinobu liked and dined with her often, he should make use of it. 

“It’s better if you do it outside your duty,” Kyojuro added, lips splitting to an open-mouthed smile. “You have the perfect excuse to be in civilian clothing. Plus, you won’t get distracted from your goal!” 

“Don’t be awkward, Tomioka,” Iguro reminded, arms folded over his chest. “Be honest and use your words. Kochou will certainly mess with you if you say the wrong thing.” It wouldn’t be the first time for her to do that. 

Days of conversation and planning led up to this point. Giyuu shouldn’t stray from what they prepared. He kept it all within him as he met with Shinobu that night for a joint mission. It had been close to a week since they had last seen each other. 

“Good evening, Giyuu-san. The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?” Shinobu said, purple eyes staring into the sky. He observed her as her smile changed into a brief surprise. “It’s snowing,” she whispered, raising her hand to feel it through her skin. 

He tilted his chin, seeing the first fall of snow grace them for tonight. It was colder than usual as well. Idly, he called for her. “Shinobu, do you feel cold?” 

Shinobu answered him with a small smile and a gentle shake of her head. “Not right now. Perhaps later, when the moon rises directly above us at midnight. Why did you ask? Will you keep me warm by then?” 

“...” 

“Giyuu-san, don’t ignore me. Friends don’t ignore friends.” 

Ironically, Giyuu wanted more than just to be friends. 

They began their journey to a remote village in the northern prefecture, where whispers of a demon had begun to curdle into screams. He planned to do the usual, an uneventful night that would end peacefully with dead demons and a scheduled meal with Shinobu for tomorrow. 

She had also been quiet by her standards. He wondered if something bothered her. 

“Ah—” She mouthed, surprised as her foot slipped on the frozen road. 

Giyuu immediately reached out to her, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her. 

She glanced at him sideways, the usual teasing remark on the tip of her tongue, but the look on his face—genuinely concerned—kept her quiet. Instead, she exhaled softly, letting the hush of the snow wrap around them both.

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“I’m alright. Thank you, Giyuu-san.” 

And then, he let go. They continued walking, more slowly now as snow piled up on their feet. Shinobu soon returned to her usual chatty and teasing demeanor, coaxing him to be at ease. 

An hour later, they would reach their destination. It was too… tame for a place that was reported to have a demon sighting. 

Shinobu’s breath clouded in front of her like a veil. She pulled her haori tighter across her shoulders, though not from the cold. “It’s too quiet. I never thought I’d be in a place quieter than you, Giyuu-san. I’d recommend you don’t move here if you ever plan to relocate.” 

The wind shifted.

Giyuu didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked to the white sky, then forward again. His expression was unreadable. “I’m not going anywhere, Shinobu.” 

He said it like a promise. Shinobu smiled sweetly. “That’s reassuring.” 

They made a quick cross around the village. The houses seemed to grow from the land itself—built of timber darkened by decades of fog and sun. There were no fences or gates—only bamboo trellises tangled with gourds, and moss-covered stones that marked the invisible boundary between one family’s earth and the next. 

The paths between houses were narrow and uneven. If a demon had attacked one home, it would immediately go to the next one. 

Giyuu stopped mid-step, hand on the hilt of his sword, while Shinobu’s smile vanished as instinct took over. She reached for her sheath.

“Smell that?” he said, voice lower now.

“Blood,” she whispered.

The snowfall hadn’t stopped—in fact, it seemed to fall harder, swirling around them in dense flurries. But beneath the white hush was a trail—faint, yet unmistakable—a thin red line seeped through the snow like ink on parchment.

Giyuu knelt to touch it. The blood was still warm.

“They’re close,” he said.

Shinobu’s grip on her blade tightened, her earlier playfulness vanishing into thin air. “We must hurry.” 

They followed the trail from one house after another, seeing no human body at all. When they reached the furthest part of the village, one that bordered the forest, the smell of blood grew painstakingly stronger. 

Then, they heard something. 

Somewhere deeper in the woods, laughter—low, guttural, and inhuman—rippled through the trees.

Giyuu stood motionless beneath a withered tree. His eyes, calm yet razor-sharp, scanned the shadows ahead. 

Shinobu crouched on a branch, perched like a butterfly poised to strike. Her smile was as delicate as it was deadly. “Three of them," she said softly, her voice drifting down like silk. "At least one Kizuki. Their blood scent is thick. It’s disgusting and it reeks of arrogance."

Giyuu didn’t respond, resting his hand on his sword. 

A blur of teeth, claws, and laughter surged from the underbrush—one demon leaping high with claws outstretched, the second bursting through the trees to flank, and the third hid itself in the shadows, waiting for a killing strike. There really were three of them. 

Giyuu moved first.

It was too fast. Too silent and precise. The airborne demon froze mid-leap. A single blue line traced across its chest before its body split apart—clean, almost beautiful in its precision.

Shinobu hummed as she watched him in action. He was never one to waste time. 

The second demon lunged for Giyuu's blind side, only to find a blade piercing its neck, not with brute force, but with elegance and poison. 

“Now, now," she murmured, twirling her sword between her fingers. "Such poor manners."

The demon shrieked as wisteria poison surged through its veins, turning its limbs sluggish and its blood boiling beneath its skin. It staggered back, blood dripping out of its ears. 

The third demon, enraged to see the two killed so one-sidedly, let out a roar, its voice gurgling like oil. "You filthy humans! You think your tricks can stop us?! I am Rokuro! I devoured over a hundred slayers in this forest! You'll be no different!"

Shinobu landed lightly beside Giyuu, her blade flicking clean of blood. “A hundred slayers, you say?" she said it like an afterthought. “But I wonder… were any of them a Hashira?"

Rokuro charged. The earth trembled with his rage. His limbs sprouted blades and mouths, each one snapping, slashing, shrieking. Trees cracked like matchsticks in his wake.

Giyuu stepped forward, expression indifferent.

Then, he vanished.

His blade glinted as it curved through the chaos, carving into Rokuro’s limbs with merciless grace. The demon bellowed, spinning—only to find Shinobu already above him, descending like a violet comet.

A flurry of strikes, each one precise, each one laced with a different poison—paralytic, corrosive, numbing. Rokuro screamed, his form unraveling beneath the twin assault.

Red blood sprayed like rain. It felt like death was coming for him.

The demon staggered, its limbs flailing wildly, as desperation overtook fury. "Y-You... bastards... I’m a Kizuki! A chosen one! You can't—"

Giyuu’s voice was barely a whisper. “You talk too much.”

The world fell still.

No wind. No sound. Just Giyuu’s form—serene and absolute—moving through Rokuro’s final, frenzied attack like a ghost. His blade passed through the demon’s neck in one smooth arc, and its head tumbled down to the snowy ground. 

The battle was over.

The demon’s body had already begun to rot and wither in the dirt. The stench still hung in the air—thick and metallic—but the forest was slowly returning to stillness. 

Giyuu stood in the wreckage, his sword still drawn.

Shinobu clapped merrily, pleased at the peaceful outcome. “Excellently done, Giyuu-san. I didn’t do much there.” Her pale violet eyes flicked toward Giyuu, then back to the broken body of the demon behind him.

“You did plenty,” he corrected. They had fought in perfect rhythm—without speaking, without planning. He had never moved so instinctively with another person before.

The silence stretched. The danger was gone, and yet neither of them moved to sheath their blades. It was as if the moment refused to end, holding them in its aftermath.

“Kochou-sama! Tomioka-sama!” A kakushi ran to them—to Shinobu, specifically. “We followed your instructions. We found the villagers hidden in a cave on the other side of the village.” 

“Any casualties?” 

“None, Kochou-sama! However, there are many injured. We have applied first aid, but some need to be brought to the Butterfly Estate.” 

Shinobu had a close-eyed smile. “Thank you for your hard work. I’ll see them soon.” 

The kakushi blushed nervously. Then, they glanced at Giyuu. They immediately bowed and left. 

Shinobu chuckled and sheathed her sword. Languidly, she undid the ties to her gourd and handed it to him. Safe to assume she mixed it with painkillers as well. “Drink, Giyuu-san.” 

Giyuu accepted the gourd and looked at her. Her hair was coming loose from its tie as sweat trickled down her face. 

Tanjiro told him Shinobu was beautiful. Tanjiro didn't lie. 

“Shinobu, did anyone die?” 

“You heard the young kakushi. We have no casualties, and I plan to keep it that way.” 

And suddenly, all the things he had locked away for tomorrow—every quiet emotion, every fleeting glimpse of a future he never allowed himself to want—rose and demanded to be heard. 

“When that time comes, you will know. And so will she.”

The box in his pocket lugged heavily like a reminder. 

Giyuu sheathed his sword and drank water, steeling his nerves. The gourd came away half-empty, and he exhaled deeply, as though even the wind might overhear the weight of his resolve.

He was straying from his plans. He hoped Tengen wouldn’t mind. 

“Shinobu,” he said, his voice low, nearly lost to the rustling trees.

She turned her head slightly, enough to show she heard him but not enough to show her eyes. “Hmm? Are you injured?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Shinobu gave a tired, knowing smile. “Then, what is it, Giyuu-san?” 

Snow continued to fall, some even decorating their hair as Giyuu's hand brushed the inner lining of his haori where the small box sat. His fingers hesitated. 

“Himejima-san gave this to me,” he said after a beat. “Just this sundown, when I was asking for his blessing.” 

Blessing? What blessing? Shinobu’s expression changed. Bewildered.

He reached inside and pulled out a small, lacquered wooden box—aged, but lovingly cared for. He stepped closer, holding it out.

She looked at it as if it might burn her.

“I was going to wait,” he said quietly. “Until a better day. But I don’t think there are better days than now.” 

Shinobu took the box, partly in disbelief and in amazement that Giyuu had been carrying this the whole time. Her fingers lingered on the butterfly insignia carved into its lid. And when she opened it, she almost stopped her Total Concentration Breathing.

Inside was a delicate ring of silver, shaped with intricate wisteria vines that looped around a small amethyst gem. It shimmered faintly in the fading light. It was beautiful. 

“Kanae made it for you,” Giyuu said. “I think she knew… one day, someone would treasure you enough to carry her hopes forward.”

Shinobu looked at the ring, mouth slightly open as she was genuinely at a loss. For once, Giyuu had actually struck her into silence. 

He dropped to one knee. It wasn’t elegant, not with blood caked on his uniform and his hair tousled from the fight—but it was real. Raw and steady.

“I’m not good with words,” he began. “You know that. But I want to stand beside you… in whatever time we have left. I want to be the one you come home to after nights like this. I want to carry your burdens—and your silences—if you'll let me.”

He looked up at her. 

“Shinobu, will you marry me?” 

She stared at him, mind completely blank with complexities and whatnot. She must’ve looked stupid by now. 

“It doesn’t have to be now. I intend to marry you whenever you’re ready.”

Her breath hitched, one hand still clutching the box.

“And if you feel otherwise, then that’s fine. My feelings don’t need to be reciprocated. It just needs to exist.” 

How was this possible? Giyuu actually knew what to say. 

She dropped to her knees before him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Giyuu breathed softly, and for the first time in years, the weight he carried felt lighter. He moved back, just enough to look at her face, and smiled with affection. 

“Silly man,” she mumbled, cupping his cheeks as his arm placed itself on her waist. “Getting married in this situation… But I guess I’m silly, too.” 

Their eyes held each other for a long moment, suspended like a poem half-finished. And then, so quietly it could almost have been mistaken for breath, he pulled her gently into him, resting his forehead against hers, and kissed her.

Not with urgency, nor with fire, but with a quiet depth that reached further than words could travel. It was a kiss of promise—of lives intertwining and of futures unfolding.

And in her hand, the ring Kanae left behind caught the moonlight, glowing with a warmth that death had not managed to steal.

Giyuu and Shinobu came together at the Hashira meeting. Again. 

Nothing changed between their demeanors despite the engagement. Shinobu was calm, radiant even. Giyuu was his usual unreadable self, though his steps were slower. More deliberate. Like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world entirely on his shoulders anymore—just most of it.

Then, they stepped through the gates, and waiting for them in the garden were the remaining Hashira. They were all looking at the pair. Expectant. Like one word from them would confirm whatever they were thinking about. 

They knew. 

Giyuu exhaled, passing it off as a sigh, while Shinobu wore a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh my, it didn’t take long for word to spread.” 

Of course, it wouldn’t. 

Not because Giyuu said anything—obviously—but because Shinobu told Aoi and Kanao, who told Tanjiro, who told Inosuke and Zenitsu, and definitely didn’t mean to tell Tengen Uzui, who then loudly told everyone else within a three-mile radius.

So, naturally, in this gathering, Tengen Uzui was the first to break the silence.

“Aha! So it IS true!” He bellowed, standing dramatically on top of a rock like he was announcing the winner of a war. “Tomioka! Shinobu! You two unflamboyant lovebirds finally tied the knot!”

“We’re not married yet,” Giyuu flatly corrected.

“Yet!” Tengen cried. “Music to my ears! I’ll plan the wedding myself. Fireworks, silk lanterns, a band of shamisen players—no, three bands—”

“No, thank you,” Shinobu cut in, smiling sweetly. “We’re thinking something… small and intimate.”

“Small?” Tengen gasped. “What kind of Hashira has a small wedding?!”

“One with good taste,” Shinobu said under her breath.

Kanroji rushed forward and took both of Shinobu’s hands, eyes sparkling like fireworks. “Congratulations!” she squealed. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard! I knew you two were in love! I told Iguro-san! Didn’t I tell you? I was correct!”

Obanai Iguro, standing beside her with his arms crossed and Kaburamaru curling around his neck, gave Giyuu a long, unimpressed stare.

“I’m surprised she didn’t kill you first,” he said, stoic just like Giyuu’s nature. “Given our last conversation about her… height.” 

“She still might.”

Shinobu smiled sweetly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Sanemi scoffed loudly from the edge of the group, arms crossed like a storm cloud with a vendetta. “Tomioka, when you told me you plan to pursue her, I didn’t think you’d jump straight into marriage.” 

“I was the same. It just naturally happened,” Giyuu replied without much context.

“Naturally? Were you not serious about her?!” 

“I am serious. I gave her a ring.” 

Kanroji squealed. “A ring? Shinobu-chan! May I see your ring?” 

“I kept it at home, Mitsuri-chan. I’ll wear it after exchanging vows.” 

Sanemi bristled. “You better not have given her a half-assed ring, Tomioka.” 

Giyuu shook his head. “I gave the one Kanae left for her.” 

Then, Sanemi’s temper cooled significantly. “Kanae?” 

“She included it in her will and left it to Himejima-san. Then, he gave it to me after I asked for his blessing.” 

Shinobu wore a teasing smile. Now that she and Giyuu were officially a pair, she couldn’t just watch while Shinazugawa badgered him. “My, are you jealous, Shinazugawa-san?”

Sanemi’s temper rose into dangerous degrees of hotness. “Of what?! Of him?”

“No,” Shinobu said, her smile deepening. “Of me.”

Sanemi made a strangled sound like he was choking on air, and promptly turned away with a frustrated grunt. “Tch. Just don’t expect me to sit through some sappy wedding ceremony. I’ll burn the chairs.”

Muichiro blinked slowly, the most passive one out of all. “I had a dream last night that this would happen,” he murmured.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“I also dreamed that you two slayed a demon under the snow,” he added.

“How accurate,” Shinobu said, awed.

Gyomei stood a little apart from the group, hands clasped, tears already flowing down his face like a gentle waterfall.

“I am… so moved,” he said, voice trembling with sincerity. “A union forged in battle… blessed by perseverance… surrounded by comrades…”

“Giyuu-san, I’m thinking of letting Himejima-san write our vows,” Shinobu whispered.

Giyuu glanced at the Stone Hashira and nodded. Himejima was a sensible monk. He might express their feelings better. 

Finally, as the teasing died down and the group started drifting inside, Kyojuro stepped forward.

He had been quiet the whole time—unusually so—but now he smiled, warm and bright as ever.

“Tomioka! Shinobu!” he said, voice booming with genuine joy. “You both walk the path of flame and wind, not separate, but together! May your hearts remain steadfast in both battle and peace! I am deeply honored to witness this!”

Then he grabbed Giyuu in a crushing hug before clapping Shinobu’s shoulders with enough force to almost knock her backward. “May your love burn eternal!”

“…Thank you, Rengoku,” Giyuu said once he could breathe again.

Shinobu rubbed her shoulder, her smile never leaving her face. “Thank you, Rengoku-san. I’ll take that blessing with a side of ice.”

As the Hashira filed into the main room for their meeting, Giyuu and Shinobu lingered outside a moment longer. The sky was clear. The cicadas hummed lazily. The world, just for now, was still.

“You handled that well,” Shinobu said.

“I only said what was necessary.”

“Exactly. That’s the key.” She laced her fingers through his. “There are times to be talkative, and times to be not.”

He nodded once, squeezing her hand gently. And under the early sun, as laughter echoed faintly from the Ubuyashiki Estate, Giyuu realized something.

He had spent most of his life preparing for death.

Now, for the first time, he was ready to live.

Chapter Text

Giyuu and Shinobu walked side by side on their way up to the mountain. 

Contrary to their usual purpose of slaying demons, they were here to visit family. 

“Giyuu-san, you’re walking slower than usual. Is it because of back pain? Was your battle with Akaza that memorable for your body?” Shinobu asked with a close-eyed smile. Her hand was loosely clasped with his. “My, it looks like I haven’t taken care of you enough.” 

“Kochou,” he said, squeezing her hand to tell otherwise. 

“To-mi-o-ka. It’s Tomioka now.” Shinobu raised her free hand. Her basket filled with flowers fell to her elbow as she made a point. 

She donned her purple kimono with Sakura embroideries at the bottom, leaving her sword back at the Butterfly Estate. Her hair grew longer, bangs falling past her collarbone. Yet, she styled her hair the same. Long black locks tied into a yakai-maki bun and fastened with a white butterfly ornament. 

“Shinobu,” he corrected, tugging her closer. “You shouldn’t walk too fast.”

She hummed, shoulders brushing against each other. “Oh, I made my husband worry. I’m sorry.” Then, she matched his pace, breathing softly against the spring breeze. “Did Kanao tell you?” 

They passed by one tree after another—its shadows cascading over Giyuu’s solemn expression. “She’s worried about you.” 

“She’s worried about us.” 

Giyuu said nothing, eyes moving forward. He had cut his long hair, maintaining it at neck length. He no longer wore the standard demon slayer uniform, but a button-up collared white shirt under his haori, and umanori hakama pants. 

When they passed by the river, Giyuu crossed first, helping her thereafter. “Shinobu, the battle with Upper Moon Two was nothing short of a miracle. He dealt permanent damage to your lungs.” 

“Yes. I can no longer use Total Concentration Breathing,” she admitted. The past her would’ve been burdened by this, but Shinobu had accepted her losses. She glanced at Giyuu’s right sleeve—at how it lightly swayed in his movements.

He had lost his right arm in his battle against Muzan. It was a miracle that was the only thing he lost. 

“Although I am quite fortunate,” she continued. 

Giyuu stopped, eyes falling on hers. 

“I am fortunate that we both survived,” she clarified with a small, loving smile, her slender hand slipping into his as the incline steepened. “And, I don’t really need Total Concentration Breathing anymore, as I am no longer a Hashira.” 

Giyuu’s grip tightened—not hard, not possessive, just steady. Present. He glanced back once, just to see her face, and his gaze softened. “You and me both.” 

“Right.” She repeated, “You and me both.” 

Giyuu and Shinobu were no longer Hashiras. 

It was all too fast. All too fleeting. 

Time has passed, and seasons have changed. The long war was over. Muzan Kibutsuji was gone, his curse broken, and for the first time in what felt like several lifetimes, the earth no longer trembled beneath their feet. 

It had been months since then. The scars were still fresh. Some visible. Some not.

They continued their journey. The trail wound steeper with each step. What used to be covered with winter snow was now replaced with wildflowers over the time they'd been gone—yellow, white, and violet blooms swaying in gentle defiance of the blood that once soaked this earth.

And yet, standing here in the quiet cemetery nestled among the hills, it wasn’t victory they felt, but reverence.

A headstone rested beneath the shadow of a blooming camellia tree. It was a simple stone, carefully carved with worn fingers and aching hearts. 

Kanae Kochou. 

Her name was etched into stone, but never absent from memory.

Shinobu knelt first, her hand brushing along the edge of Kanae’s grave. Her smile was soft, but tinged with something bittersweet. “We came like we promised, Onee-chan,” she whispered. “It took longer than we thought. But we’re here.”

Her other hand remained in Giyuu’s.

He did not kneel, but stood silent and still, his gaze resting on her sister’s name. The coolness of his expression—so often mistaken for apathy—was tempered now by something more open, more human. His fingers tightened slightly around Shinobu’s, grounding himself in the moment, in the woman who had stayed when he could no longer walk forward alone.

“We survived,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think we would, but… we did.”

There was no grand speech, no flood of tears. Just two people who had fought their way out of hell, returning not in triumph, but in gratitude.

Shinobu rose and leaned her head against Giyuu’s shoulder. “You know, Kanae must’ve predicted this,” she said, pointing to the two of them. “When you were both inaugurated as Hashiras, she told me you’re a great man.” 

Giyuu glanced down at her, then at the grave. “I can see that. She left the ring to Himejima-san out of everyone.” He briefly let go of Shinobu’s hand and placed a small bouquet of wisteria and blue hydrangea on Kanae’s headstone. “She, at least, expected that your husband would be a Hashira.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” she sang. Then, her eyes flickered to the ohagi beside the flowers. Only one person could’ve left this for her sister. “It looks like Shinazugawa-san came before us. Why do I feel like I’ve lost?” 

“Shinobu, this is not a race.” 

“It’s not?” 

Giyuu turned his head, just enough to show his small smile.

Then, they continued to walk to the other side of the cemetery. A simple grave marker stood ahead in the embrace of the mountain, neither grand nor forgotten. Flowers had been offered on it—daisies, to be exact—as it was perfectly placed under the carved name. 

Tsutako Tomioka. 

“I recall Tanjiro-kun visited the cemetery a fortnight ago. He brought daisies with him,” she told him, smile soft and warm. “It’s a great feeling, isn’t it? To know they are loved by others apart from us.” 

“It is,” he replied, tone filled with gratitude.

Giyuu stood before his sister’s grave, and Shinobu let go of his hand. He did not kneel. He only reached into his haori and pulled the old ribbon his sister used to wear. 

Shinobu asked, “Do you want me to tie it for you?” 

He nodded, appreciative, and gave it to his wife.

With both hands, she tied it gently around the base of the stone. The wind stirred it slightly, and for a moment, it looked almost new.

Then, he closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer.

Together, they stood in silence. The moment was complete as it was. Grief and healing had finally settled into their rightful place—not as burdens, but as roots. Without words, Giyuu reached for her hand again.

“Do you think they would’ve been happy for us?” she asked quietly.

He looked at her, thoughtful.

“I think,” he said, voice low, “they were waiting for us to find each other. And nee-san… she’d be happy I found someone who laughs at me instead of leaving.”

Shinobu chuckled softly. “That’s not fair. I tease you out of love.”

“I know.”

She placed a small bouquet of wisteria and blue hydrangea at Tsutako’s grave. “For strength and for sorrow,” she murmured. “The parts of us we’ll never forget.” 

Hand in hand, they turned from the graves. The wind whispered behind them, soft as a blessing, rustling through the trees as if their sisters were walking just a few steps behind.

They made their way back down the mountain, and the path did not seem quite as steep as before.