Chapter Text
Four years.
Four years since the war ended, since the last breath of his comrades was lost in the smoke and blood, since the survivors of the Demon Slayer Corps looked into each other’s eyes and knew they would never be the same.
Four years of walking among graves and memories, of hearing the echo of swords clashing in dreams that never left them.
Four years of learning to live with the weight of absences, of trying to fill the void with silence and duty, as if honor could suture the wounds that death had left open, and of seeing how the world moved forward, indifferent, while they carried the ghost of every battle, every stifled scream, every broken promise under the moon.
Four years in which Sanemi, without realizing it, had allowed someone to slip between his ribs and occupy the space that hatred and guilt had left empty.
Giyuu had not arrived as a savior or a redeemer; he had arrived as a whisper in the midst of chaos, as a beacon in an eternal night. And without haste, but without pause, he had stolen his heart. Not with pretty words or grand gestures, but with looks that understood him without judging, with silences that embraced him when words failed, with a patience Sanemi did not believe he deserved.
Four years of resisting, of fighting against what he felt, until one day, without warning, he surrendered. He surrendered because, for the first time in his life, someone made him feel he was not broken, that he was not a monster, that he was worth loving.
And now, ten months after losing him, he understood that this surrender had been his greatest strength and his deepest weakness. Because loving Giyuu had saved him, but his absence was killing him.
…
The afternoon wind swayed the cherry blossom branches with a slowness almost painful, as if time itself resisted moving forward, where each pink petal that fell on Sanemi’s shoulders was an open wound, a tear the earth could not absorb.
Ten months.
Ten months since the world had blurred, since his heart had been torn from his chest with a cruelty not even war had matched.
Four years since the last battle had ended, since the dust had settled and silence had settled like a ghost among the survivors.
Four years of learning to live in a world that no longer roared with the clash of swords, but neither offered peace.
Ten months, however, since the true hell had begun.
Ten months since Giyuu had left…
Time healed nothing; on the contrary, each passing day was like someone pressing their fingers into the open wound, reminding Sanemi that the pain not only persisted but grew, branched out, took root in his chest like a cursed tree.
Ten months of waking with the bitter taste of bile in his throat, of feeling the air burn his lungs because Giyuu was no longer there to share it.
Ten months of touching the haori with two designs, now his by right and by agony, and swearing he could still feel the warmth of his body, the scent of fresh water and pine that had always accompanied him.
Ten months of closing his eyes and seeing, not the faces of the demons he had killed, but watching the only color he could see in Giyuu’s eyes fade away, feeling a part of him die slowly in his arms, feeling his beloved’s breath become shallower and shallower, until only silence remained. A silence that still echoed in his ears.
—Giyuu… —
The name burned his throat, scraping his soul. He pronounced it silently, like a prayer or a curse, and each syllable was a reminder that love was not always enough to conquer death. Sanemi closed his eyes and felt his nails dig into his palms, the physical pain an anchor that kept him tied to a world he no longer recognized. The air smelled of approaching rain, of wet earth, and of memories that refused to fade. He could still remember the cold of the grass beneath his knees as he held Giyuu in his arms, the salty taste of tears mixing with the bitterness of defeat... the silence that had enveloped him after Giyuu’s last breath vanished into the air was not peace but a void so deep it threatened to swallow him whole.
"—YOU CAN’T LEAVE! DON’T LEAVE ME! —" Sanemi had screamed, but fate does not listen to pleas. Fate only takes what is its own, and Giyuu had always belonged to something greater than this world. Greater than him.
In his final moments, Giyuu remembered everything. He remembered the day Sanemi first looked at him without hatred, when his eyes, usually cold and full of fury, softened like ice under the spring sun. He remembered the nights when Sanemi would wake from a nightmare and cling to him as if he were the only solid point in a crumbling world, where his rough, battle-scarred fingers dug into the fabric of Giyuu’s kimono, his breath ragged with fear of the dark. He remembered the stolen laughter amid the chaos, the complicit silences worth more than a thousand words, the promises whispered under the moonlight when the world seemed to stop just for them. But above all, he remembered the touch of Sanemi’s hands. Rough, yes, but capable of conveying a tenderness that surprised him every time, as if in the midst of so much darkness, Sanemi had kept a little piece of light just for him.
"—Nemi... —" The nickname formed on his lips but he lacked the strength to pronounce it. Instead, he screamed it with all his soul in his mind. He screamed it like an oath, like a sacred promise, like a goodbye he did not want to say. "—I’ll wait for you —" he thought as the darkness enveloped him with deceptive gentleness. "—Wherever you go, I’ll wait for you. Because without you, not even death would make sense—"
…
Sanemi relived the moment when Giyuu gave him his haori over and over again. It was not just the symbol of his position as the Wind Hashira; it was his most precious possession. "—Take it—" Giyuu had said, with that calm smile that only appeared when they were alone, when the outside world ceased to exist and only the two of them remained. "—Now it belongs to you—" Sanemi had accepted it with trembling hands, feeling the weight of something more than fabric; it was the weight of a future that, for the first time in his life, did not scare him. It was the weight of a promise, of a bond that transcended words. But now, that same haori was the only thing keeping him tied to reality, the only thing preventing him from vanishing into nothingness.
He held it against his chest every night, inhaling the lingering scent of Giyuu, as if he could absorb it, make it part of himself once more. Sometimes, in the darkest moments, he swore he could still feel the warmth of his hands, the echo of his laughter, the whisper of his voice saying "—Nemi—" with a tenderness only he possessed.
But the haori was also torture.
Every time he touched it, every time he wrapped it around his shoulders, the pain returned with renewed intensity. It was as if Giyuu were there, yet infinitely far away. Sanemi sat under the cherry tree, the same tree under which Giyuu used to meditate, and wondered if one day the pain would stop being so sharp. If one day he could remember without feeling like he was drowning.
…
It was Uzui who found him that night, when the moon hung in the sky like an open, bleeding wound. Sanemi was on his knees in the garden, Giyuu’s haori pressed against his face, his shoulders shaking with sobs he no longer tried to contain. The former Sound Hashira knelt beside him, saying nothing at first. What words could fill such a void? What comfort could be enough for a pain that seemed endless?
—Shinazugawa... — Uzui finally murmured, his voice rough, broken by another’s pain. He placed his hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, feeling him tremble beneath his touch, as if his entire being were about to disintegrate.
—You can’t go on like this— Sanemi slowly raised his head, his red, swollen eyes meeting Uzui’s. There was no anger in his gaze, not even resentment. Only a pain so deep it seemed to have stolen his capacity to feel anything else.
—I can’t go on any other way... — Sanemi replied, his voice broken, barely a whisper. —Every time I close my eyes, I can see him... Every time I breathe, I feel like I’m drowning because he’s no longer here to remind me how to do it— He gripped the haori tighter, as if he could extract Giyuu’s very essence from it, as if he could bring him back just by wishing it hard enough.
—Uzui... — His voice trembled, heavy with desperation that cut to the soul.
—How do you stay alive after losing someone like that? How do you not just let yourself die? — Uzui pressed his lips together, recalling his own losses, his own sleepless nights of despair. He had had his daughters, his comrades, the music that kept him anchored to the earth. But Sanemi... Sanemi seemed to have lost every last reason to stay.
—I don’t know, Shinazugawa— Uzui admitted, with honesty that hurt more than any lie, — but I know he wouldn’t want this for you. Giyuu loved you too much to want to see you like this— Sanemi let out a bitter, empty laugh, devoid of any humor.
—Love? — His voice broke, heavy with sarcasm that failed to hide the pain.
—What good is love if in the end you’re left alone? — His eyes filled with tears again, overflowing uncontrollably. Uzui did not try to argue. There were no words that could console such pain. Instead, he sat beside him in silence, letting Sanemi cry. Sometimes, the only possible comfort is not being alone in pain, is knowing there is someone else who understands, who shares at least a part of that burden.
…
Days later, Sanemi found himself standing in front of Genya’s grave. He had avoided that place for years, as if the pain of losing Giyuu had reopened wounds he thought were healed. But now, with his heart broken and his soul in pieces, he needed to talk to his brother. He needed to ask for forgiveness, needed to release all the weight he had carried for years.
He knelt, his trembling fingers tracing the name carved into the cold stone. The icy touch reminded him once more that Genya was gone, that he could never hug him again, laugh with him, protect him as he should have.
—Genya... — His voice broke before he could continue. The tears began to fall, hot and salty, mixing with the earth beneath his knees.
—Damn it, brother... — he whispered, his voice choked with sobs. —I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... I’m sorry for everything... — His shoulders shook as the words, trapped for so long, finally found release. It was as if a dam had broken inside him, freeing all the pain he had contained. —For every time I yelled at you— he confessed, his voice fragile, —for every time I pushed you away... for making you feel like you weren’t enough... for not protecting you as I should have... for not telling you, not even once, that... that you were the only good thing left in this rotten world. — He placed a hand over his chest, as if he could contain the pain tearing him apart from within.
—You’re my brother, damn it. My little brother. And I... I only gave you pain— A tear fell onto his hands, mixing with the earth covering Genya’s grave. Sanemi rested his forehead against the cold stone, as if he could feel, through it, the last trace of his brother’s warmth. —If I could go back... — he whispered, his voice choked with tears. —I would hug you every day. I would tell you it didn’t matter what I said, that you were always enough. That you were my enough. —
…
He remained like that, in silence, letting the tears fall freely. When he finally calmed enough to speak again, Sanemi wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked back, where Uzui waited at a respectful distance.
—Genya... — he said, his voice still trembling, but firmer.
—I want you to meet someone. — Uzui nodded, understanding the importance of the moment, and approached. Sanemi extended a hand, inviting him to join him in front of the grave. —This is Uzui Tengen— Sanemi said, and his voice did not tremble with pain this time, but with something deeper, something he himself could not name: gratitude, perhaps. Or the relief of not being alone in grief.
—He was the Sound Hashira— He paused, swallowing, feeling the knot in his throat loosen with Uzui by his side. —And he is... he has been... — He looked at his friend and for an instant, his eyes reflected something he rarely let show: pure vulnerability. —He’s the only one who hasn’t let go of my hand, not even when I wanted to fall... and... this is Tomioka Giyuu. — The name of Giyuu left his lips like a whisper, like a caress. Uzui nodded, placing a white rose on the gravestone, a simple but meaningful gesture.
—He was the Water Hashira— Sanemi continued, with bright eyes. — And he was... he was... — He paused, searching for words, but none seemed enough. —He was my everything—
Uzui said nothing. He didn’t need to. He had seen the love between Sanemi and Giyuu, had witnessed how they completed each other, as if they were two halves of the same soul, destined to find each other amid the chaos.
—Genya... — Sanemi whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.
—I hope that if there are other lives, in all of them I can be your big brother. And this time... — He closed his eyes tightly, as if he could see Genya smiling, as he did when they were children. —...this time ... I swear I won’t fail you—
…
The following weeks were a blur of pain and silence. Sanemi stopped eating, sleeping, talking. He would sit on the porch of the Butterfly Mansion, Giyuu’s haori clutched to his chest, as if the mere contact with the fabric could bring him back. Uzui tried to make him sit at the table, but Sanemi only pushed the plate away, without even the strength to get angry.
—I’m not hungry— he murmured, his gaze lost in the void, as if he no longer belonged to this world. Uzui sat beside him, not insisting. Sometimes, just being there was enough. Other times, the silence between them was so heavy it seemed to suffocate them both.
One night, Sanemi collapsed.
He crumpled to the ground in the garden, Giyuu’s haori pressed to his chest, and cried as he never had before. These were not silent tears, but wrenching sobs, as if his body were tearing apart from within.
—I CAN’T! — he screamed, his voice raw and shattered.
—I can’t go on like this! — Uzui ran to him, kneeling beside him and holding him tightly, as if he could contain the broken pieces of his friend.
—Shinazugawa... — Uzui whispered, his voice broken with emotion. —You’re not alone. You still have me— But Sanemi only shook his head, his eyes filled with a desperation that cut to the soul.
—It’s not enough, Uzui — he confessed, with a pain that seemed endless. —Without him, nothing is—
…
Months after Giyuu’s death passed, and Sanemi wasted away, his body becoming fragile, his eyes losing the spark they once had, his shattered heart beating weakly. One morning, Uzui found him in the garden, sitting under the cherry tree Giyuu had loved so much.
His eyes were closed, his hands resting in his lap, and on his face, for the first time in months, there was a peace that was frightening. Beside him, on the grass, lay the letter he had never dared to send.
Uzui picked it up, his hand trembling, and read it as tears fell uncontrollably.
"—Giyuu... —
I don’t know why today, of all the days I’ve survived without you, today was the one that broke me. Today I remembered the day you first called me "—Nemi—" I got angry. I yelled at you. I almost hit you. And now... now I would give my own life just to hear that word from your lips one more time, just once more to know that it wasn’t a dream, that you existed, that you were real. That I didn’t imagine it all.
Uzui made me eat today. He said I couldn’t let myself die.
But, Giyuu... don’t you see? I’m already dead. I’m just a breathing corpse, a ghost walking among the living without belonging anywhere, where every bite tastes like ash and every sip of water chokes me, just like every breath hurts because the air no longer smells like you. It no longer smells like us.
I dreamed of you again last night... You were there, smiling as always, with that calm only you had, as if the whole world couldn’t touch you, and for a second, for one damn second, I thought it was real. I reached out to touch you... but you vanished between my fingers. Like smoke... like mist... like all the good things I ever had. I woke up screaming your name. Screaming until my throat burned, until Uzui ran into my room, his eyes filled with a fear he couldn’t hide. But it wasn’t fear for me; it was fear for you, because he knows that, without you, there’s nothing tying me to this world.
I don’t know how to go on... I don’t know how to live in a world where you don’t exist... where I can’t hear you laugh, where I can’t fight with you, where I can’t hate you a little just so you’d hug me afterward and tell me everything would be okay. I don’t know how to breathe without drowning. I don’t know how to look at the sky without searching for you. I don’t know how to close my eyes without seeing you die over and over in my arms.
But I promise you.
I’ll try. Not for me. Not for Uzui. Not for Genya. For you. Because you asked me to. Because you swore you’d wait for me. And I... I can’t break that promise. I can’t fail you now. Not when it’s all I have left.
So I’ll stay here. Wandering without direction. Existing without living. Until time decides to have mercy on me. Until, in this world or the next, my hands can finally touch you again. Until I can look into your eyes and tell you that I never stopped loving you. That I never stopped needing you. That never, not for a second, did I stop being yours.
Always yours, Sanemi.
Your, Nemi
P.S.
And if along the way I get lost, if the pain defeats me, if one day I can’t take it anymore... look for my soul among the cherry blossom petals. Because that’s where I’ll wait for you... where the wind kisses the water... where you and I can finally rest."
Uzui let the letter fall, feeling the pain pierce him like a sword. He knew Sanemi had finally found what he had been searching for. Not in this world, not in this life, but somewhere, sometime, they would be together again.
…
There was no blinding light. No tunnel. Just silence. And then... him. Giyuu was there, standing under the same cherry tree, as if time had not passed. He wore his old uniform, but his face bore no scars, no trace of pain. Only calm... only peace. Sanemi felt the air escape his lungs, as if the whole world had stopped turning.
—Nemi? —
Giyuu’s voice was the same, still warm and familiar, resonating like an embrace that enveloped him completely.
Sanemi did not answer. Instead, he ran. He ran as he had that night in the final battle, as if the whole world were crumbling around him. But this time, there was no blood, no screams, no demons lurking. Only the sound of his steps drawing nearer, the beat of his heart that, against all odds, began to beat strongly again at the moment their bodies finally reunited.
Giyuu hugged him with a strength that seemed to want to fuse them into one, and Sanemi felt something inside him, something that had been broken for years, finally begin to heal.
—You didn’t leave— Sanemi whispered against his shoulder, his voice broken, as if he still couldn’t believe this was real. Giyuu smiled. That smile he had always kept just for him, that lit up even his darkest days.
—I told you I’d wait for you— he replied, his voice pure calm, pure love.
And there, under the eternal cherry tree, where the wind caressed the water and the water soothed the wind, they finally rested. There was no need for words after that. They didn’t need them.
…
Sanemi knew, in that moment, that it didn’t matter how many lives he had to live, how many battles he had to fight, how many times he had to die and be reborn. He would find Giyuu in each one of them. And this time, when Genya was his brother again, he would be the big brother he always should have been, protective, loving, present.
There would be no more yelling, no more harsh words, no more lonely nights. Only love. And so, under the eternal cherry tree, Sanemi made a silent vow. A vow that transcended time, death, pain. A vow of eternal love.
"—I’ll find you, Giyuu.
In this life and the next. Wherever you are, I’ll reach you. And when I do, we’ll never be apart again. And you, Genya... I promise I’ll be the brother you always deserved. Because this time, nothing and no one will take our peace away. —"
And the wind, as if it understood his promise, whispered through the cherry tree’s branches, carrying his words to the sky, to the stars, to the place where Giyuu and Genya waited for him.