Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

These were terrible months.

Guy turned 25 a couple of weeks ago, and the time had finally come. For seven months, he couldn't live normally. A slight chill would bring on a fever, so hot it seemed he'd die from it sooner than from the mark. At random moments, his nose would bleed, staining all his clothes and forcing him to wash them in a basin of cold water, which in turn led to fever. The heat made his head ache. The headache caused bleeding. It was all cyclical, and he was terribly tired of it. His legs would suddenly give out, causing him to fall on wooden floors or the ground, getting bruises. Which, for some reason, always turned a dark, purple-yellow hue.

Giyu didn't want to die alone. As selfish and foolish as it might be, forcing those dear to him to witness his death, Giyu wished they were by his side. Giyu informed those closest to his home. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, Inosuke, Master Urokodaki, Tengen, and Shinazugawa... He wasn't sure about the latter; after all, it would probably be unpleasant for him to watch Giyu, who had with difficulty become his friend, die... But wasn't there a benefit in this for Shinazugawa? He would learn how one dies from the curse, he could prepare himself in a way Giyu himself couldn't. Shinazugawa wouldn't have to step into the unknown when his time came. Perhaps a painful death wasn't so terrifying, but knowing you'll die without suffering, isn't that better?

He lay on the softest futon of his life, covered by a warm blanket. He felt suffocated, the blanket made the situation worse, but Giyu couldn't say anything negative about it. They had taken care of him, so he wouldn't say anything to them. He was glad he wasn't alone facing death. Sweat streamed down his forehead, Giyu struggled to keep his eyes open, trying to catch the moment when he would have to say goodbye, even if only with his eyes. Speaking now was quite difficult – heavy shortness of breath, fever, incredible weakness, unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

His vision swims as if after a strong anesthetic; he can only distinguish people by their hair color. In the Teacher's case, by his mask. His ears are blocked – he's as if underwater, only hearing when spoken directly into his ear. He feels like an old man. Giyu cannot move his arm, bend his leg, or simply stand. He can only stare at people with a clouded gaze. He feels his head being lifted, and later realizes blood is flowing from his nose. Giyu didn't feel the blood. His face feels numb. He lets out a heavy sigh, gathering his last strength, and tells them, hoping they can hear his whisper well:

–Thank you for everything.

His eyes close quickly. There is no peaceful fading with blurred features. Giyu is tired of staying conscious, tired of keeping his eyes open. Warmth heats his hand; the last cry reaches him before darkness embraces him. For some reason, he awaits it. Not with impatience, but simply understanding the inevitability of his own death, when he would have liked to live longer. The mark – the last reminder that demons once existed in this world. When all the marks disappear, the demon slayers will be forgotten forever. They will cease to exist, just as the demons did. People will be free.

–Farewell, –This is what he heard. He struggles to make out whose voice it is, but it most resembles Tengen's. Tengen, ha. Those were kind words. Good words. The kind he expected to hear from a teacher or from Kamado, but not from a former colleague.

Their relationship had improved. Uzui unashamedly declared him his friend and, until the mark finally undermined his health, invited him for weekly tea gatherings. His wives and their child were always present there, and Giyu was invited as a guest for the child's discharge. He clearly remembers holding a small, grunting bundle of life in his arms. A new person who will never in his life fear that demons inhabit the night.

His consciousness slowly fades. This sensation cannot be unequivocally described. It's like a mixture of contradictory states that cannot be grasped at a single moment. They constantly change, hence their contradictory nature. He is cold, to the point of shivering. He is hot, to the point of heavy breathing. He feels his body tiring to the limit, with no strength left to move. He feels life's energy saturating him, giving him a new chance at life, but immediately taking it away. His body aches, as if after a battle. He doesn't feel his body at all. He is alive and he is dead. Giyu is old and young.

Giyu will remember the last moment of his life for a long time. It was surprising that he remembered anything at all. Can one remember anything after death? In his head, already completely extinguished, residing in the depths of darkness, a star exploded. Bright, white, and with sparks flying in all directions. Giyu opened his eyes, but knew he couldn't have. He no longer had eyes. He saw, though he no longer had the organ for this action. Giyu seemed to see with his consciousness. Stars changed before him. White, yellow, red, blue. All of them were hot, all exploded as soon as Giyu lingered on them for too long. Soon everything happened so fast that all the stars merged into one. A long corridor of smeared star lines, with a dark light at the end.

Is this death?

As it turned out, no.

***

The first thing he did was breathe. He did it as if he had never felt air in his life. A sharp inhale burned his lungs. The cool air cut his throat, his nose. Initially, Giyu didn't even try to breathe through his nose. He inhaled as much air as possible through his mouth. Panic became evident at this point, as he consciously allowed himself to panic. Because this shouldn't be happening. Giyu was dead. Completely, irrevocably. No doctors could have healed him, no demons (who no longer exist) could have revived him with their blood. He was dead. Giyu wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating, his brain had stopped functioning.

The second thing he did was open his eyes. And he could see. He clearly made out the wooden ceiling of a traditional house, which resembled his estate. Except his ceiling had long stopped leaking, while this one continued to do so. This was not the ceiling of his estate. Too many differences. The color was a few shades lighter, small cracks were visible, as if something was in the attic and lying directly above Giyu. After all, it was different wood. Completely. He doesn't know for sure what the ceilings in this house are made of, but the ceilings in his are made of pine wood.

The third action was sitting up. He spent about fifteen seconds processing the ceiling data. In five, he abruptly sat up in bed. And this was not the bed he had died in. He remembered that one poorly, by morning a fog clouded his vision. He struggled to recall if the blanket was similar to the one with a blue insert and cranes in the sky. The blanket had been heavy, the futon soft. This blanket, however, was light, like a summer one, and the futon was several times harder. The moment Giyu realized he was moving, he immediately understood he had a second arm. A second arm. The one he had lost in battle. The one whose loss he had easily accepted, simply in the euphoria of winning the war. He had said goodbye to it, just as he had said goodbye to demons. And although Giyu had long grown accustomed to doing everything with one hand, he had not experienced psychological difficulties due to its loss. But regaining it, yes.

The fourth thing he did was re-awareness of his body. It was a surprise, after all. Giyu didn't consider this heaven. Too real. His cheek burned, as if he'd been struck. It reminded him of the sensation of the mark of a demon slayer appearing. With blurry vision, he looked at his hands – they had already sweated and habitually clutched the blanket. Controlling his breathing was impossible. Yes, Giyu allowed himself to panic. He felt weak, as if years of training had ceased to exist for his body. Ultimately, it was because of this that Giyu noticed his hands were too small compared to the blanket.

Okay, the fifth and final act – Giyu screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling the horror rising inside him. This can't be. He can't have two hands, he can't not feel the pain of old wounds, his hands aren't this small... He grabs his head and tears at his hair. Sharp movements, clearly feeling the pain from his actions. This gives him even more confidence and he sinks even deeper into horror. He scratches his face with short nails, even though he hasn't cut his nails in a long time, because Giyu only has one hand. His nails should be long. And also, he should be dead.

He feels someone's hands wrap around his neck, soothingly pressing him against a warm body. But Giyu doesn't pay attention. Because he's panicking, because he's alive, because his hands are the same as when he was a child. That this is the ceiling of his house, where his parents died. Giyu scratches his face, he feels blood trickling from small scratches. A little blood flows into his mouth and it's unfamiliar. This body is not used to it. This only intensifies the panic. He doesn't notice the burning tears starting to flow, how instead of one pair of hands, two more appear. Giyu ignores the embraces and continues to scream incoherent sounds, and sometimes phrases.

"I'm alive, I'm alive..." He mutters, finally losing his voice.

"Of course you're alive," a voice answers him.

Tears streamed from his eyes with renewed force. Mother. His mother. Beautiful, gentle mother. Her name was Haruko, she had three brothers, and they all trained as doctors in different specializations. They dispersed throughout the region, while his mother remained in their hometown. He remembered her poorly. Neither her face, nor her hair, nor any clear impression of her voice. The only thing he had left of her was a hairpin that Tsutako had taken. Giyu couldn't save the hairpin because the demon had eaten it along with Tsutako. And now, it all resurfaced in his memory. Giyu remembered everything he had ever known about her.

"What did you see, Giyu?" another voice asked him.

It was Dad. Rough, cheerful, and kind Dad. His name was Takashi, he was the only son in his family and trained as a doctor to provide for his parents. He didn't get to give them his first salary – they died from an epidemic that wiped out half their village. He didn't remember him. The only thing left of him were the knowledge in Giyu's head. Only medical terms, spoken in his voice. He heard that voice when, after a battle with a demon, he examined himself or someone else. It didn't matter if it was a civilian or a hunter. All knowledge about injuries was spoken in that exact voice. And as with his mother, he remembered everything about his father.

"What happened, little brother?" Tsutako asks. Tsutako is alive. Not wounded by claws, fangs of that vile demon.

The young sister, who had just turned sixteen. She was going to get married, two years after her parents' death. He clearly remembered that guy. He had a good job, education, and upbringing. Junpei came to Giyu to ask for his sister's hand. He knelt before him, although Giyu told him to stand up. Junpei asked Giyu to escort his sister to the altar, as he was her brother. He liked Junpei.

He finishes his mumbling. Panicked enough. Need to pull himself together. It was... Difficult. He had just completely forgotten how to breathe, despite concentrating on it his entire life as a demon slayer and after it. The main thing now is to calm down. If this is delirium before death (though it's definitely not that), then it doesn't deserve his hysterics at all. Breathe, just breathe. It's a very simple action, breathing? Giyu did it as soon as he woke up. So breathing is still easy, especially if you start concentrating.

They lifted him by the shoulders and pulled him off the futon. His legs dangled uselessly in the air. Giyu sighed deeper. It had been a long time since he'd flown. He needed to coordinate his movements now. Calm. He felt a hand beneath him, and the next second he was pressed against a chest. He didn't wrap his arms around the neck; his hands hung limply by his sides. His short, weak arms wouldn't have been able to lift even Kocho's sword, which was considered very light for demon slayers. Giyu didn't hold on, didn't rest his head on his father's shoulder. It felt unpleasant. He didn't remember this man, and he was also a 25-year-old demon slayer who had found himself in his childhood body.

He was being carried somewhere, Giyu didn't want to look. He closed his eyes, began to breathe deeply. He felt oxygen filling his lungs, felt a surge of strength to his limbs. A familiar sensation for his spirit, but not for his body, a sense of control. His cheek continued to burn, but he didn't touch it. He didn't want to believe it, but Giyu knew what had followed him into this time. His current curse and former blessing. Of course, the mark couldn't leave him alone. It followed him like a predator stalking its prey, intending to kill him at twenty-five. The mark doesn't leave the hunter, even after death, ha.

He was placed on a chair, Giyu peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Wall cabinets, a stove. Soon, his father turned on the light, and Giyu squinted. He wanted to keep screaming, keep hoping he was dead. Were the heavens like this? But... why then do they continue to pretend as if nothing happened? As if they hadn't died. He rejected the idea of such heavens. Even if everyone has their own paradise, why was his family here, and Sabito wasn't? No, this was reality. Giyu tormented himself with the constant repetition of the same logical chain of thoughts. Repeating the same thing, hoping for a different outcome, is madness. And Giyu was almost certain he had gone mad. He returned to the idea of pre-death delirium. And pushed it away again. No, this was reality. A mad, but real, reality.

Giyu hears a chair scraping across the floor towards him. His mother sits beside him, and his father crouches on the other side. They speak to him, ask questions, and worry. He ignores them. Giyu isn't ready. Everything blurs before his eyes again, and the idea of deathbed delirium returns, as quickly as he'd pushed it away. Giyu dismisses the idea again. Tsutako approaches from his father's side, nudging him slightly. In her hands are bandages for all the scratches he's inflicted on himself. As his sister's hand reaches for Giyu's face, he flinches. His mother squeezes his hand, making it warm. Compared to his mother's hand, Giyu's is ice cold.

A bandage is stuck to his face. An unpleasant sensation, it tightens his skin, making Giyu want to lift his hand and rip off this unwanted feeling. A bandage can be dangerous for a hunter. A stray gust of wind from a demon would be muffled by the bandage, and then the hunter could meet their death. His hand is gently pushed down, but Giyu resists. He stubbornly tears the bandage off his face with his left hand, feeling a slight pain. The pain confirms the reality of the situation again. He hears Tsutako's surprised sigh, which makes him outwardly frown and inwardly shrink. She's alive.

His mother rubs his cheek, and Giyu realizes the mark is still on his face. With sheer willpower, cursing words Shinazugawa had never heard in his life, he banishes the mark from his face. A muffled, surprised sigh reaches Giyu, cupped by a palm. His father persistently tries to make Giyu look at him with words, but Giyu learned to professionally ignore people's words long before joining the corps. He stares at one spot on the table, his mind stuck on the same thought: "I should have been dead." He turns it over and over until he doesn't notice his father barking his name. He only realizes it when his mother visibly flinches, holding his hand. And Giyu doesn't answer.

The father stands and leaves the room. It doesn't make things easier or harder. A glass of water is placed before him. He looks at it with an empty gaze. He doesn't want to drink, talk, or do anything else. Giyu is dead. He finally got what he wanted, though death wasn't what he imagined. Giyu wanted to apologize to Sabito, hug Tsutako, make peace with all the Hashira he had strained relationships with. Giyu wanted to meet Shinazugawa in heaven and guide him to Genya. To see his friend's happy reunion with his family.

Instead, Giyu is alive. Again. Mother mutters something about needing to go to bed and talk about what happened tomorrow. He is lifted from the chair, his hand is taken, and he is led down the corridors back to the room. Childhood memories are vivid, loud, out of place in his mind. He wants to kill himself just to stop this flood of memories. Here he is talking to his mother about dinner, listening to his father's stories about a recent patient, and listening with feigned disgust to Tsutako's tales of suitors in the village. Giyu had long forgotten these moments of his life, and now they have become brighter than his last years, eclipsing them with their light.

Eventually, the memories subside. He is carefully covered with a blanket, his mother stays in the room, and Tsutako lies down on the neighboring futon.

His eyes close slowly. He doesn't want to, but he does it anyway.

I am alive.

And I shouldn't be.

Chapter Text

Giyu felt as if he had returned to the past. Of course, he had, but he had returned to the past in his emotional state. He felt no urge to smile at his living family, no desire to talk non-stop or sit beside them to hug. He had become the silent Water Hashira again, who annoyed everyone with his absent demeanor.

Once, over a bowl of ramen at a cheap stall, Shinazugawa told him that when that expression disappeared from his face, it became much easier to look at Giyu. From that moment on, he always tried to smile or show any emotion to people, and especially waved at Shinazugawa. The latter took it as some kind of tradition. The next morning, he woke up before everyone else. Giyu got up from the futon as quietly as his body could manage.

It was unusual to have an unsteady gait, uncontrolled body movements like a random shift of his foot or fingers. He lacked control. Before, as a hunter, Giyu could automatically assume the correct stance in mid-air to avoid falling and breaking his neck. To achieve something similar in this body, he had to recall the correct stance and try to assume it from memory, which was completely absent.

Inconvenient. It was as if he had been too severely injured and was now recovering after a very long time. Even after defeating Muzan, without one arm, Giyu had never felt this way. The blue yukata he wore at night fell below his knees, cinched with a dark sash, its sleeves unusually long. He quietly slid open the fusuma and poked his head into the corridor. Not a single lantern was lit in the estate's corridor; darkness enveloped it. Giyu recalled the darkness of forest nights, when the only light guiding his way was the pale moon, often hidden by the dense canopy of trees. He navigated the dark with ease even without training, and with it, this ability became even sharper. Out of youthful habit, he rose onto his toes as he stepped over the threshold of his and his sister's bedroom. Immediately regaining his composure, Giyu hurried to shift his weight onto his full foot with his next step. The floor proved less creaky than expected.

Giyu identified two more rooms ahead. Likely a guest bedroom and his parents' bedroom. Thoughts of people he barely knew somehow caused more pain than thoughts of the living Tsutako. Was this a miracle or a curse? The mad patient hadn't yet murdered his parents, the demon hadn't killed Tsutako; for little Giyu, the sky above was still peaceful, and his family happy. He proceeded towards the corridor's exit. Their estate wasn't as grand as one might expect from doctors known throughout the village.

His parents, judging by the recent memories he'd acquired, preferred to live modestly. Therefore, exiting the short corridor led directly to the Kamidana, which apparently warranted its own separate corridor. Beyond the Kamidana, a short walk further, was the hall. Large, with better tatami mats than in the bedroom. From there, three doors led to the kitchen, the entrance hall, and the engawa overlooking the garden. The estate was enclosed by a high stone fence, which, however, did not obstruct the view of the nearby forest, from which dawn began to break. Giyu opens the shoji and flinches at the cool morning breeze. The sensation was more real than ever.

He feels alive again, as if born only yesterday. He steps onto the engawa, ready to greet the dawn of a new day. A day Giyu shouldn't have met at all, because he was dying. Because his heart stopped, because his brain ceased functioning, because his lungs refused to draw air. Giyu had long accepted his death. Four months before it. When the symptoms of the curse became noticeably apparent, Giyu spent two months denying the situation. He started living normally. The world was clean, thanks to the incredible efforts of many people.

Standing for a long time with legs as weak as a child's means choosing knees that constantly buckle from fatigue. Giyu sits on a tree, one leg dangling off the engawa, the other bent and pulled close to his chest. His foot doesn't touch the ground, forcing Giyu to unnaturally stretch his toes. He wants to touch the ground from the engawa, like he did as an adult. For a long five minutes, Giyu hopes this is a deathbed delusion, or a flawed version of paradise he will soon leave to meet his dead friends and other loved ones. But as the sky turns purple, gradually shifting to crimson and red-orange, as the air continues to warm under the hot summer sun, Giyu accepts this reality again. Why couldn't he just die? For what sins was he sent back?

The Demon Slayer Corps had defeated the demons years ago; the world was cleansed. Giyu was once again open to smiling, to living, and he finally spoke with Master Urokodaki. The Kamado family was healed, became happier; after all, Tanjiro and Kanao recently got married, a wedding Giyu attended, preparing Tanjiro like a father. Shinazugawa wandered the country, dropping by for visits, inviting Giyu for ramen and a bottle of sake. God, Tengen had a child! Giyu was... Giyu was happy. They had defeated the vile creatures, at the cost of many lives that could have been ordinary people, with families. So many good people died for this victory. But were all the efforts, all the deaths, in vain?

The demons are alive again, Muzan walks the earth as if nothing happened, fearing nothing and no one. They continue to kill people. What he fought for, what so many people fought for, was crushed and thrown in the trash. Years of missions, training, pain... All for nothing? What is the point of victory if the victory was not forever? The scum poisoning their lives were destroyed. Killed. Then why, why are they alive?! Why was this victory taken away so easily?! He imagines demons dying at this dawn. How they burn, scream in agonizing pain, turn into a pile of ashes, then scattered by a gust of wind. Giyu's whole life revolved around demons. They killed his sister, his best friend, many of his colleagues. They avenged it, avenged everything. But in this new reality, it's not so. He feels like he was spat in the face by the fact of defeat.

Demons are alive, will live and continue to ruin people's lives. It's pointless. Why is Giyu here? To suffer? Why did he come back here? Giyu wanted to die. Always wanted to. Maybe this is punishment? For being weak and letting Sabito and Tsutako die? The sun has already risen, standing quite high in the sky. Giyu hears nothing but birdsong, the rustling of leaves in the wind. The screams of demons are not heard here, but Giyu clearly imagines them. He continues to stare blankly into the distance.

Thoughts revolve around the same thing. Demons are alive, demons are killing, it was all in vain. It was all just to go back. Literally nullifying the sacrifices of thousands of people. Anger rose in his heart like a wave, engulfing him completely. Whoever did this was a jerk worse than the Hand Demon. Much worse, which made this unknown entity an incredibly desirable object of murder. The shoji screens behind him don't open, as Giyu left them open. He can't guess who's behind him, nor does he particularly want to. Giyu wants nothing. A hand touches his shoulder, and Giyu realizes again that he is small. His body is small, normal for a child, but for Giyu's consciousness, it still feels incredibly small, especially compared to the hand on his shoulder. It's rough, calloused in places.

Giyu understands it's his father who has come to him. They are silent, Giyu ignoring his father's presence. His long-dead father, whom he doesn't remember. His father says nothing, also looking somewhere into the distance beyond the forest. A rustling is heard from the kitchen, which can only mean one thing – Mother and Tsutako have also woken up and started preparing breakfast. The smell of fish reaches him, but mostly smoke from the stove. For Giyu of this time, his mother's and Tsutako's food were the greatest masterpieces humanity was capable of. For the old Giyu, it means nothing.

They sit like this for half an hour. His father says not a word, ten minutes ago removed his hand from Giyu's shoulder and went to get firewood for the stove for a few minutes. Immediately after, he returns and says in a quiet voice: "Let's go eat," his father says confidently, no trace of nervousness in his voice at any moment.

Only a slight tremor in his tightly clenched hands confirmed his agitated state. Giyu doesn't answer, but gets up from the engawa and walks with his father to the kitchen, deliberately staying behind. His father turns to Giyu, making sure he's following. This irritates him. Can he get lost on the way to the kitchen? The kitchen fusuma opens, and Tsutako emerges with a plate of food. His father takes the plate and places it on the low table in the hall.

Giyu, following, takes the plate from his mother to place it next to another plate, his father's. His father always sits at the head of the table, his mother to his right, and Tsutako opposite his mother. Giyu sits to his sister's left. They sit on soft, dark green cushions, covered with frayed threads and small bits of street debris. It’s hardly noticeable while sitting, but unpleasant to touch. His knees quickly start to ache when he sits down, and Giyu is surprised. Then he remembers he is a child again. A child's body isn't used to sitting on its knees as long as an adult's. Now Giyu recalls that he never sat on his knees like his parents and Tsutako. His sister looks at him strangely, but Giyu ignores it. Steam rises from the food, and Giyu quietly and insistently blows to get away from the table faster.

Those worried glances his parents throw at him "discreetly" are more stressful than demons. The chopsticks in his left hand feel good, and he eats as quickly as possible, sometimes burning his mouth. When Giyu gets up from the table, everyone falls silent and continues eating without him. He can't understand the exact reason for their behavior, but he can guess they are afraid.

Afraid to ask what happened to him that night, what he saw, and why he has been silent all the time, when before that night he hadn’t stopped talking for a minute. Yes, Giyu would also be scared if Tanjiro suddenly screamed in the middle of the night, started crying, and babbling something as crazy as what Giyu babbled that night. But he would have approached him the next morning, not leaving unless Tanjiro or someone who knew about it asked him to. His parents... are afraid, yes.

***

Apparently, a logical chain occurred in their heads, like Giyu's. Because he can't clearly explain why someone is always with him now. About two weeks had passed since returning to the past.

His parents were obviously very worried. They approached every hour, asking and asking, always, almost the same questions: "Why aren't you talking?", "What did you see that night?", "Why are you ignoring us?" and the most disliked: "What's wrong with you?". Giyu ignored everyone. It was difficult when Tsutako asked, but Giyu managed. These questions pulled him out of the abyss of his thoughts. Seeing their faces was painfully deadly, as if a dull blade was being dragged across his skin, trying to peel it off. Tsutako... Alive, happy. If not for Giyu, would she be just as happy? He was sure of it. He thought about demons, again about the meaning of it all. He didn't want to abandon this family. They were happy, and although they were extremely alarmed by his silent behavior now, smiles often shone on their faces. He liked watching happy people. Shinazugawa was the same, years after the victory.

The Kamados were like that, simply by their nature. The feeling of peace despite the demons was like a drug. The days passed according to the same scenario – he would wake up before the sun, sit on the cold engawa, and watch the sunrise. Then the whole family would wake up, someone would sit next to him, try to talk to him, but most of the time Giyu was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice them or their questions. And if he did notice, he didn't know what to answer and chose the same path as always: silence. This clearly worried his parents; they whispered behind his back, apparently planning something. Giyu didn't care. He wanted it to be like this forever. He could just pretend that no demons existed, right? And continue to live peacefully.

Giyu watched a butterfly, sitting on the engawa again, when he overheard a conversation, one he wasn't meant to hear judging by the whispers: "Did you write to him yet?" Father asked, a slight nervousness in his voice.

To whom? Giyu listened with growing interest.

"Yes, he replied that he'll come in a week. It's dangerous to descend from the mountain these days, they say there are wild animals,"

Mother replied, her voice even more worried.

"Do you really think we should have written?" "Of course, Haruko!" The whisper suddenly louder, "Something's clearly wrong with him.Maybe your brother can help us!"

Oh, so they were talking about him.

"But, still, this is..."

"He's not listening to us, dear," Father softened. "He's ignoring even Tsutako. He's been silent for two weeks. It's not normal."

"Maybe he'll speak again? Without Tadashi-nii-san's help?"

That's a familiar name...

"You know yourself that shock doesn't last this long. He needs help."

"Yes," Mother finally sighed, "you're right."

They had called Mother's brother, a psychic.

The one who was supposed to take Giyu to the clinic after Tsutako's death. He wanted to hide, like a small child. He was terrified of that man, especially when he dragged Giyu towards the clinic, grabbing his arm roughly. Bruises remained for days. But now, Giyu was an adult. He could meet that man without fear in his eyes. His arrival wasn't as significant as the sudden appearance of a wild animal in the mountains.

Demons are returning.

***

Tsutako was scared. No. She was terrified. Her brother – gentle, cheerful, never silent and radiant with his smile – was gone. And not in the way one might think. Just one night, Giyu woke up screaming, his eyes full of horror. He screamed, tore his throat, ripped his hair out, scratched his face with sharp nails. She had only seen such fits in the severely mentally ill. But Giyu had never shown anything that could pass for symptoms.

Just one night, her brother disappeared, and he appeared. He – also her brother, but cold, eternally silent, never showing a single emotion on his face. He ignored everyone, only reacting to invitations to eat or do some small chore. He had empty eyes, in which one could see a sea of sadness and despair. As if everything good in life had been taken away and he was told it would never be returned. He woke up before dawn, went to the engawa, sat down to breakfast when the food was ready, and sat back down. The silence of this Giyu could not be called just silence. It seemed like a soundless cry for help, only the one crying didn't want that help at all. And he cries for a reason unknown to anyone. Only Tsutako understands that her brother is gone. Her parents hope to bring that brother back, but he is gone. Forever. This Giyu will never return him, and if he does, it's clearly not here. This Giyu likes it here, but... He looks as if he's watching something about to collapse. Giyu looks like he's made a decision, but doubts it, though he's unaware of his doubt. This brother is confused. And although she says her brother is gone, this brother is also hers.

Just this brother is different.

Still hers, but different. Her younger brother died, disappeared, and a thousand more words that have no meaning. She wanted to find her brother. And a week later, she gave up. Now this Giyu is her brother. Tsutako thinks he just got old. This Giyu hardly uses his right hand, sometimes looking at it as if it were a completely unfamiliar thing. He moves quietly, never making noise. He often scratches his left cheek until it's slightly scratched. And for some reason, he hates mentions of animals in the mountains, anywhere.

Mom and Dad are going to show the new Giyu to Uncle Tadashi. Uncle Tadashi is an experienced psychiatrist; they believe he can help and fix Giyu. Tsutako sees no point in it but says nothing. She hopes they will understand soon. Mom will start crying when she realizes. Crying loudly, heartbrokenly, enough to ache the heart of the village's grumpiest hermit. Dad will get angry, refuse to accept the irreversibility. He will shout, decide he can help Giyu himself, and send Uncle Tadashi back to his mountain home with curses. And then, after long, long searches for a cure, after a thousand curses, shouts, and fruitless conversations with Giyu, Dad will resign himself.

He will adapt to the new reality where his little son says nothing, ignores most phrases, and, though he helps around the house, cannot go out to buy food at the market.

In the end, everything will be normal again.

Just without the old Giyu.

Chapter Text

Uncle Tadashi arrived in the evening, still light, a week after that conversation.

Giyu sat on the engawa, watching the sun set with annoyance. He didn't remember demons being around at this hour. Perhaps when he was younger, he wasn't told about the animals in the mountains? Giyu only played with friends in the village, never venturing beyond it towards the forest or further into the fields. There was no particular interest, and no one had disappeared from the village for a long time. Did this demon only eat those who walked in the mountains? Giyu tried to find logic in the demon's actions, as catching people in the village would be more profitable and convenient, because people didn't frequent the mountains often.

He abandoned this endeavor, remembering that ordinary demons usually lacked the intelligence for logical reasoning. The wind died down, and Giyu clearly heard his parents greeting Uncle Tadashi, asking how he was, and the latter replying sparingly in a calm voice. Simultaneously, his thoughts drifted further into the past. For some reason, in Giyu's childhood memories, this man was more hot-tempered than he was now. The situation must be different. And more and more, Giyu noticed himself getting lost in thought and missing simple calls to him. He realized Tsutako's hand in front of him, waving, obscuring his view of the forest. Only then did his ears kick in, and Giyu turned his head.

"Come to the table," Tsutako had evidently said again, though he heard the phrase for the first time.

Her eyes were full of sadness as she looked at him. Her brows were lowered, her eyelids always half-closed, and her smile was so strained that even a blind person would know something was wrong. Giyu was disappointed in himself because of this. He was the cause of unhappiness again. No matter how much he disliked the atmosphere of life at home, as long as he was here, there would be no true joy. Giyu, with his face, his silence, his absent demeanor, spoiled the mood of his parents and Tsutako. They worried about him too much, fretting over that night more than necessary. Was he worth such close attention?

He stood and walked to the table, following Tsutako. Like her father, she turned her head to see if he was following. Giyu didn't want to see Tsutako so sad. In his past life, she died for him; was it worth making things worse for her now as thanks? He couldn't be a good brother. Giyu always brought trouble, especially to his family. Forcing himself to speak to them, it wasn't that hard, right? At first, he just ignored them, trying to understand the situation, but now?... He was afraid. They were dead. Everyone was dead. He had already grieved their deaths; why should he do it again? He had no answer, of course. And he would likely never find one.

When Giyu sat in his seat, he immediately began to eat. He tried not to pay attention to Tadashi, who sat opposite him. The intense gaze made Giyu hurry, burning his tongue and cheeks with hot food. His chopsticks threatened to fall from his fingers. God, why was it so hard to hold them in his left hand?! Perhaps because Giyu was right-handed? This thought almost made him blush. He constantly forgot that he had a second hand, which used to be his dominant hand. Giyu persistently took everything in his left hand, forgetting the existence of his right. He felt wrong when he picked something up with his right hand.

"...yu? Giyu!" Lost too far in his thoughts again, he needed to break himself of this habit. And for what? Did he need to listen to them when they said nothing worthwhile? "Greet your uncle!"

Giyu didn't want to. He didn't need to lift his head now because he was ignoring their requests, refusing to acknowledge the words of a person who was dead. He didn't want to speak to them.

"It's alright, Haruko," her uncle replies. Giyu exhales slightly, maintaining full concentration. He hears his uncle's chopsticks tap against the plate, his gaze slowly releasing Giyu. Finally, the food on his plate is finished, and Giyu tries to get up from the table as calmly as possible to return to the engawa.

***

Tadashi watched his nephew, continuing to eat his portion slowly. Yes, his sister always cooked deliciously. He didn't want to stop, he hadn't eaten his sister's food in a very long time, and so, seeing his brother-in-law's open mouth, he raised his hand.

"We shouldn't discuss this here, your son might hear," he took another bite, "and I also want to finish eating."

Tadashi furtively glanced not only at Giyu but also at his sister, brother-in-law, and niece. His sister was clearly worried, constantly wanting to interject, apologize for Giyu, tugging at her kimono sleeves, and most noticeably, Haruko's hands were trembling. His brother-in-law, on the other hand, acted deliberately calm, trying to draw his son's attention to himself, but again, unsuccessfully. This made Takashi angry, betraying his nervous state. The only one behaving normally towards Giyu, not even trying to speak to him during the meal, was Tsutako. If Tadashi had a choice, he would only speak with her.

When the meal was over, he was invited to the room where he would sleep, apparently expecting a conversation about the boy, for whom Tadashi had been called here. At the fusuma, Haruko stopped and waved Tsutako over:

"This is an adult conversation, you don't need to listen." A nervous glance towards the corridor, "Go to Giu. Sit with him."

"But..." Tsutako sounded upset by this.

"No," Tadashi interjected, earning an angry look from his brother-in-law. "Let her stay with us. I think she understands Giu better than both of you."

Haruko's offended look was something to behold. She was constantly bothered when she didn't understand something. In his opinion, his sister went into medicine with the rest of their brothers precisely because she wanted to understand what they were talking about. And she deliberately chose a different specialization when she couldn't handle psychiatry, so that they wouldn't understand anything in her field. Haruko wanted to be different. If he were a less qualified specialist, he would say that Giu, like Haruko, was trying to attract attention through silence.

"I'll tell you that there's almost nothing to worry about," he announced, sitting down on the tatami. "I need to observe him more to understand what's wrong with him, but he definitely hasn't regressed."

Tsutako nodded, calmly accepting the information. If you wanted Tadashi's opinion, she had confirmed her own suspicions. Takashi exhaled calmly, his fists unclenched; he had clearly feared a sharp regression in his son's development. Haruko also became calmer, stopped biting her thin, already bitten lips from anxiety.

"Don't bother him for now, he needs personal space at least sometimes."

He reassured the parents, confirmed Tsutako's competence, and set himself a goal.

***

Uncle Tadashi sat with him on the engawa two days after observing him from behind. He didn't speak to him, immediately asking questions, nor did he try to make physical contact. He simply looked at Giyu, analyzing something of his own. This was common at the Butterfly Estate when one of the nurses, or Shinobu, came to examine you, without a full check-up. At first glance, everything seemed fine, but if you looked closer... Uncle was a doctor, clearly a good one. After his arrival, his parents stopped bothering him with questions, they didn't scrutinize him so closely at dinner, and stopped trailing him altogether.

Uncle Tadashi was a lean man, who in his life had never held anything heavier than a poker, but was accustomed to long treks through mountainous terrain. By family traits, he had hair as black as pitch, almost black eyes with noticeable dark circles beneath them. In a way, he resembled Giyu Kiria with his hairstyle. Although, comparing this man to Oyakata-sama was the height of disrespect, so Giyu pushed this thought far away and mentally apologized. The uncle's fingers were calloused in the places where one usually held a brush or pen. And most importantly – thin-rimmed glasses, which prevented the uncle from constantly squinting.

Honestly, Giyu noticed him almost immediately. He tried to be more attentive, so he snapped out of his thoughts faster than usual. And yet, he immediately returned to them. Soon, his parents would die. Giyu clearly remembered – they wouldn't live to see his next birthday. They would be murdered in their own clinic by a patient who had caught a fever from excessive alcohol consumption. Giyu was ready for this. But was Tsutako ready? How hard would it be for her with a brother who was always lost in thought? He just needed to speak again, but fear tightened his throat once more. And would his words change anything in this situation? Nothing. He never knew how to offer support, Giyu certainly wouldn't be able to help Tsutako in any way with his words.

The sun stood at its zenith, but his thoughts grew darker. Giyu didn't want to relive all the deaths he would witness. But could anything be changed? Could Giyu do anything when he couldn't in his past life? Even trained, he couldn't save Sabito, and here he was, not only weak in body but also unable to speak a single word. Again. Was it possible to change what had already happened, just in his "past" life? He didn't know. This ignorance was slowly killing him.

Finally, Uncle Tadashi stood up, after two hours, and before leaving, said:

–I'll go with your parents to the clinic.

***

–Giyu! –Tsutako screamed as if she had seen a demon, so Giyu heard her immediately.

He sprang up, driven by fear for his sister. Giyu couldn't guess what might have happened to her. It was still light, a couple of hours until evening. The demon living on the mountain couldn't descend; it contradicted everything Giyu knew about this demon and demons in general. What happened?

They met in the middle of the corridor. Her hair was already disheveled, and her eyes held incredible terror. His heart ached at the sight of his sister's face. It was contorted, etched with a fear that seemed no one had ever experienced except before death. It dawned on Giyu. Parents at the clinic. He felt himself paling several shades along with his sister. God. He thought he was ready. Ready for death, for mourning, and for funerals. But one can never be ready for this, that's what Giyu understood.

Behind, an old woman was visible; it was clear she had brought the news. His sister scooped him up, and he could have cried out in protest or scowled, but Giyu didn't. He was as scared as Tsutako. She ran out of the house with the old woman, passing through the fence gate in an instant, heading towards the clinic. He didn't want to see their corpses. He didn't want to. Giyu had barely remembered his parents' corpses in his past life, but now he would remember them for sure. For the rest of his life.

He wasn't ready for death. Not ready.

***

Alive. They were alive.

Mother lay on the bed with a bandaged arm, her face pale, a reassuring smile gracing it. A few strands of hair were missing from the front, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple. He heard her heavy breathing, the result of the stress she'd endured. He saw her gaze was slightly unfocused, as if Mom had just woken up and was disoriented. She was tired, scared. Mom could barely stroke Tsutako's head soothingly, trying to stop her tears, but to no avail. Mom tried to whisper something to his sister but quickly abandoned the idea.

Father sat on a chair. Half of his face was covered in bandages, some of which had turned pink from the blood flowing from his face. His stomach was also bandaged, but no blood was flowing there; it had already stopped. He wasn't trying to smile like Mom. Father held Tsutako's hand with one, offering silent support, and with the other, he stroked Giyu's head, and Giyu couldn't say he minded it now. Dad was also tired, clearly more stressed than Mom, but he was holding up better and worse at the same time. One move from that madman and the father would crack his skull on the table, without preamble or preface.

Uncle Tadashi seemed the calmest and looked the best. He had no bandages because he only had one scratch. Giyu stood rooted to the clinic floor, noticing nothing but the crying Tsutako and his mother's tired smile. He watched her, realizing she had a pulse, she was breathing, she was thinking, and she was alive. Alive, alive. Mom was supposed to die at the hands of a mad patient, Dad was supposed to follow, and... and... They were supposed to be dead. That's how it was last time. Giyu was glad they were alive. Gladder than he had ever been in his life after the transmigration. It felt like butterflies were fluttering inside him, his heart not ceasing its rapid beat. He took a deep breath of air, for the reason for his joy was not singular.

Events can be changed. Uncle Tadashi's presence saved his parents. Changing situations was possible. Why did he ever think it wasn't? The world burst into color with this realization. The grayness of every moment in the past ignited with hope. His dead parents – alive! Events are changing. Their death isn't an irrefutable fact. The situation can be changed, and if his parents' death didn't happen, what's stopping him from preventing others from dying? There are no immutable situations. Everything can be changed.

Giyu scrutinized every joy. He couldn't trust simple happiness so easily. He looked and looked at his mother, confirming it – events can be changed. If... If he can change everything. Of course, they can manage without him, without a useless link in the corps. Giyu can change what already happened in his time. Stop the Kamado family's death, save Sabito, save Tsutako... He can change something. He'll save at least someone, won't let people die for him, saving his useless life. All those who died in the past can live if Giyu simply uses his knowledge of the future.

He can build a new future.

Giyu made a decision.

And the first thing he'll do is protect his family and Tsutako from demons.

***

"Thank you," Giyu said quietly, almost whispering.

The sound of chopsticks against plates stopped. Everyone paused, even Uncle Tadashi, who shouldn't be so surprised. Tsutako looked up from her food to look at her brother. No smile, no frown. The same expression. But the voice. Giyu spoke!

"Wh-what did you say?" her mother awoke from surprise. Small tears immediately appeared in her eyes, her lips already starting to curve into a smile.

"Thank you," he said a little louder.

Tsutako smiled. The new Giyu had spoken! After a month, her brother had finally spoken! She couldn't be happier inside. Everything was returning to normal! Mom would stop being so sad, Dad would talk more, and Uncle Tadashi would say that all the words he was supposed to tell them after that lunch were apparently false. Her brother, the new brother, was okay. He had spoken again!

"Y-you're welcome!" her mother exclaimed slightly. Oh God, Mom! She beamed with a smile so bright it resembled the sun! Oh, Giyu! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you for speaking to them again!

Giyu stood up from the table, leaning on his right hand, something he hadn't done before. Instead of going to his usual engawa, he walked into the corridor – apparently, to their bedroom! Oh, thank all the gods! Giyu was finally getting better!

Everyone finished eating at the speed of light – they were so eager to talk to Giyu, to hear his voice again and his incredible stories that never ended and appeared right in his head. But at the same moment, a smiling Uncle Tadashi called them into the guest bedroom. What a relief! Surely, he would say that Giyu was now fine! It had all passed on its own! Tsutako, almost bouncing, entered the room with her parents and couldn't sit still on her knees. She swayed the whole time, wanting to start humming a song!

"I wanted to inform you that Giyu was fine from the very beginning," Uncle Tadashi said, lighting his pipe. "I thought it was a reaction to some stress or a sudden onset of elective mutism, but it turned out to be simpler."

A sigh came from Dad.

"At first, as you described, it was a reaction to stress. Later, he was just so deep in thought that he didn't notice anything. Giyu was overthinking. He was comprehending something, reflecting. I'd say he... matured? He's definitely older in his mind, that's for sure. Keep an eye on him, you might have a genius awakening!" The uncle chuckled sarcastically.

Mom beamed, delighted by the news.

"Now, it seems he's realized something. That emptiness in his eyes... it's gone. They're lit up again. It seems your son has made an important decision for himself."

"And then what?" Father frowned, "Just forget about this incident? No consequences?"

"Oh, right." The uncle frowned slightly, "Sometimes, Giyu can get too lost in his thoughts. Just don't let him get too absorbed, so that what happened this month doesn't happen again. Oh, and! Giyu might be prone to depression, support his sense of purpose. Or talk to him about it somehow. I think that's all."

Tsutako exhaled, completely relaxed after this explanation. After all, she was right. The new Giyu just couldn't decide within his thoughts. Now everything will be fine!

She got up from the tatami and, chirping something about conversations, went to Giyu. The guest room was quite close to their room, there was no need to even run to see and talk to her new brother. A matured brother. A possible genius!

She slid open the fusuma. Giyu was sitting in their room, looking at something on the window and watching the estate gates.

"Giyu!" Tsutako ran to him, but didn't dare hug him.

"Tsutako," Giyu greeted her. She noticed the corner of his lip lift slightly. "Can I ask you for something?"

Tsutako froze in place, then knelt down next to him. If Giyu wants to ask for something, she will definitely do it! Anything he wants!

"Yes, of course!"

"Will you go to the market with me? I need to find some flowers..."

Chapter Text

"So, what flower are we looking for?"

Tsutako asked with interest.

Giyu slightly lifted his head, forcing himself to look away from the market stalls. He needed already bloomed wisteria flowers – growing the trees from scratch would take too much time. He intended to make special pouches for the neck, which were given to victims in particularly dangerous areas.

Making them wasn't difficult; the hardest part was carefully tying the mesh pouch so nothing tore and correctly calculating the amount of wisteria. The scent of wisteria shouldn't be detectable by human noses, but demons would clearly smell it from quite a distance.

"Wisteria," the answer came, his voice still hoarse.

From the long silence, he struggled to form words, choosing them each time he opened his mouth. Tsutako's face brightened at his answer. It seemed every word he spoke brought her incredible joy. He didn't want to upset her again. Ever. Giyu loved Tsutako very much. The market's din drowned out his words, but Tsutako still heard, without even leaning towards him. Oh, she was so tall when he was little. And Giyu's voice was squeaky. That's what he also really disliked. Giyu sounded like a child.

"And why do you need wisteria?" Tsutako peered at the flowers on the stalls with interest, but on the side away from Giyu. "It's, like, poisonous..."

Only for demons. He thought, but of course, didn't voice it. Yes, wisteria was poisonous, but in large quantities and if its scent was inhaled too much. Oyakata-sama didn't get worse from wisteria, even though the entire garden and the Ubuyashiki estate's fence were planted with it.

"A surprise," Giyu replied monotonously. In a way, it was a surprise.

Not the most pleasant gift, but was Giyu's happiness more important than the happiness of a thousand people? Of course not. Tsutako blinked slowly and decided to drop the subject. Apparently, purple flowers flashed in the far part of the market, because he couldn't think of any other reason why Tsutako scooped him up and ran through the turbulent stream of villagers. Giyu would have protested furiously if he were a child. She stopped before an inconspicuous stall. Part of the sign was slightly torn; the only goods were saplings and blooming wisteria. Oh, a miracle. Finally.

They had wandered the not-so-large market for over two hours for this. An old woman with tangled gray hair sat behind the stall. She reeked of garlic and some other spices. Giu recognized the scent from vendors of foreign goods.

"Hello," Tsutako bowed to her.

"Hello," the old woman replied in an incredibly creaky voice. Giu even winced.

"Excuse me, how much is this wisteria?"

"Two thousand yen, dear." 

Tsutako bit her lip. Of course, two thousand yen was too much for such a flower. Too much. But it meant safety. In the darkness of night, demons wouldn't approach any of his family, wouldn't be able to get into the house if it was planted close enough to the entrance. No, Giu would insist on buying it, even if they couldn't afford it right now.

As a last resort, he would steal the flower. It seemed to be written on his face, because Tsutako, glancing at Giu, took a purse from her kimono and counted out the required sum. Giu was almost surprised. He had intended to fight tooth and nail for his family's safety, and it turned out to be easy. But he shouldn't stop at the wisteria. Uncle Tadashi would likely return to the mountains in a few days.

As a token of gratitude for saving his parents, Giu would do what he had to. And the demon in the mountains could kill not only Uncle Tadashi. Many people, with and without children, travel up and down the mountain. Giu had to do it if the corps wasn't going to send any hunters anytime soon. And now that he had the wisteria, the matter of the sword was next. It was dark enough to slip out unnoticed. To his parents, uncle, and Tsutako, Giyu was fast asleep, buried under his blanket.

***

He plumped his pillow, bunched up the blanket to make it look fuller, and then slipped out of the estate through the window. Climbing over the fence was easy, even with his frail child's body. Four days had passed since he and Tsutako bought the wisteria. He planted it near the entrance, for aesthetics and so that any demons who entered would immediately smell it. His parents didn't object to decorating the yard, but were slightly concerned about it being wisteria. He managed to convince them to keep the flower with just a look. All day after planting, Giyu tried to create wisteria pouches.

He plucked a couple of inconspicuous branches to put the petals in as charms. Unfortunately, there wasn't good enough fabric at home to contain the wisteria's poisonous properties, so Giyu unhesitatingly took his white and red kimono and cut the sleeves into rags. He figured if he hadn't been silent for a month, he would have been scolded without delay. But even if he had been, Giyu wouldn't have stopped. The sleeves were a perfect solution, holding the right amount and easily sewn with simple thread. The problem was, Giyu was bad at sewing. No, of course, he was good at stitching himself up, especially himself, but sewing pouches was a different matter entirely.

In the end, Giyu spent a very long time creating the charms and, with slightly trembling hands from exhaustion, gave them to his family. Tsutako happily hung the pouch around her neck without question, laughed at how the charm looked, and called it cute.Mother asked what it was, but Giyu seemed to only want to hear what he was saying. Mother sniffed the pouch slightly but could barely smell the wisteria. Father hung the pouch on his arm, wrapping the string around a few times. Giyu didn't correct him and was glad his father didn't ask clarifying questions about Giyu's words. Uncle Tadashi examined the pouch with interest, asked what was inside, and upon hearing "wisteria," frowned with apprehension but still put it on.

When he gave them the pouches, he told them all the same phrase:

"Don't take it off. Ever. Especially at night."

After the pouches, he set out in search of a sword. Naturally, there was no question of a nichirin blade. But going into battle without a weapon would be reckless. The sword felt good in his grip, Giyu had trained in swordsmanship for years, and over a month of full concentration on breathing had made him, albeit slightly, stronger. Fighting demons would still be reckless with this weak body, but it seemed the corps wouldn't reach this demon anytime soon. So, a sword. The nearest blacksmith was on the other side of the village from his parents' estate. It was barely guarded, with the blacksmith's four children, all younger than Giyu, constantly milling about.

The owners were kind, outwardly stern, and their punishments for mistakes were equally so. He hoped to find a sword there that would be comfortable for Giyu. He doubted he'd find a katana his size now; his arms were too short for swordsmanship. He needed something like a longer tanto or wakizashi...

Daydreaming is very harmful.

In the dead of night, with a wisteria pouch around his neck ("Giyu, you're paranoid. You know yourself that this demon doesn't descend from the mountain." "Shut up, Uzui."), he managed, thanks to luck, to break the rusty padlock on the forge. It took about an hour to find the most comfortable blade. Seriously, these blacksmiths were no match for the corps' masters. Those, though as wicked as hell when you broke their blades, produced quality work. Enough distractions, he needed to continue.

These blades could stop a demon, but not for long. He needed to hold out until dawn. And if Giyu were to die, he wouldn't mind. They could manage without him. He landed barefoot on the cold ground. Wearing shoes would be impractical, uncomfortable, and noisy. Giyu would have woken the whole house, and he definitely didn't want that. A faint thread of feeling, emanating from his heart towards the house, made him hesitate before leaving. Giyu glanced back at the fence, noticed a couple of scratches, and turned away. He had to go. It was unclear how many people would die from the "beast" in the mountains if Giyu didn't kill it in the next couple of days.

He resolutely stepped towards the street, shrouded in darkness. No, he wasn't scared. Giyu was set on killing the vile creature in the mountains; he had no time to be afraid. Rather, he... found it hard to leave what he had so recently gained. But again, is Giyu's happiness worth more than the happiness of millions? Of course not. He walks along the village road, trying to ignore the cold that chills his feet. His clothes kept him warm in the night air, so he simply rubbed his legs together periodically to warm them. Giyu took his father's hakama – dark gray, like for kendo practice at the local dojo, and tied them under his short legs. They are comfortable enough for running, they won't tangle his legs like a kimono or yukata.

He stole Uncle Tadashi's white kimono. Uncle Tadashi had walked in the mountains long enough to bring a warm kimono. And on top, he threw on a haori. A simple, dark blue one, belonging to Tsutako. Giyu passes the last houses, quickly leaving the village. Memories are left behind, the desire to return is completely overshadowed by the desire to kill the mountain scum. In the folds of his kimono, he takes out a small bun – a morning snack. He still has enough food for a couple of days, as the journey is long. If he's lucky, someone will take pity on him and give him a ride in their cart, but Giyu doesn't really count on it. He can't afford it. Giyu tries to make his short steps longer, the sun begins to rise above the horizon. He meets a new dawn, on his way to the mountain, with a gaze burning with hatred. If this dawn doesn't kill the demon, he'll return only because the southern route is easier than the northern one. He'll have to go through the village, otherwise the path lies through the swamps.

He doesn't want to drown in the mire, it's disgusting. He will continue to deny that he simply wants to say goodbye to his family before he leaves them forever. Giyu has no intention of ever returning to them. They deserve better. They shouldn't get involved in his war, just because he is their son.

If he leaves, they will be better off and safer.

They won't have to endure him.

***

"Boy, why are you here alone?" asks the old man.

Giyu had rubbed his feet raw on sharp stones and the road itself, leaving drops of blood behind him. When he stopped near some small house at the foot of the mountain, Giyu decided to tie something around his legs. The pain wasn't unbearable, but running through branches and stones on the mountain, risking infection or reducing his already limited mobility, was foolish.

It seemed he was noticed through the window, and the old man came out to see who it was. Giyu's feet bled from the sharp rocks and the road itself, leaving a trail of blood. When he stopped by a small house at the foot of the mountain, Giyu decided to tie something around his feet. The pain wasn't unbearable, but running through the mountain's branches and rocks, risking infection or reducing his already limited mobility, was foolish. It seemed he was noticed through a window, and an old man came out to see who it was.

"None of your business, grandpa." The polite address didn't soften the meaning of his words.

The old man frowned, his grey eyebrows furrowed, but said nothing. A second later, he went inside, only to emerge again. With a pair of sandals in his hands.

"Take them, brat."

Giyu eyed the footwear with suspicion but took them. He suppressed the urge to pay the old man with his food or by doing some chores. Well, Giyu would pretend he paid the old man by killing the creature on the mountain. It had taken him about a day to reach the mountain, and now he would have to spend another day climbing it and wandering for an unknown amount of time, waiting for the demon.

Giyu still had enough supplies in his bag to afford a few days of wandering on the mountain.

He had tried not to take too much food from the pantry, relying on his body's endurance. As it turned out, a child's body wasn't as resilient as an adult's. Why did he constantly have to be reminded that he was in a child's body? Giyu looked up at the mountain – no bigger than Mount Sagiri, but clearly steeper in some places. People must have often met their end there, which is why no one suspected demons at first. Rumors of "wild beasts" likely appeared after the discovery of the first mangled body. The Corps reacts too slowly to such incidents.

Rumors, due to the implication of wild beasts, spread slowly, reaching the Ubuyashiki family, and consequently the demon slayers, with a heavy delay. This costs people their lives. Giyu apologized for his tardiness at the graves of the victims, praying more diligently than during his usual grave visits. Under the light of the summer sun, with immense heat, Giyu continued his ascent. Sweat streamed down him, his breathing struggling to maintain its rhythm and full concentration.

Yes, he needed time to accustom this child's body to constant concentration. It took less time than for an adult. He had trained himself for about two years to achieve his current results. No room for complaint now. But he needed to be better, to try harder, if Giyu intended to save so many lives. Soon, the mountain was covered by a forest. The forest was dense, almost pathless, which was to his advantage. Those who stray from the path are killed more often than those who stay on it. Or does this demon prefer to ambush on the road?

Giyu didn't know. That's why he didn't stray far from the road – only a couple of kilometers. He was still too low; the habitat was a bit higher, somewhere in the middle of the road. Giyu gripped the bark of a tree with hands trembling from exhaustion. It dug unpleasantly into his skin, giving him splinters, resin, and the scent of wood. The pain from this was pleasant. It made him feel alive. (A pity, he thought.)

His knees buckled under the weight of his body, not that it was considerable. Giyu tried to force himself to stand, to take his fatigue in his hands and throw it away, far off. But the closer the ground got to his knees, the less he wanted to banish the fatigue. He wanted to sink onto the clearing covered with torn branches, grass crushed by his own feet, and pinecones with an incredibly strong scent. He sat down, leaning against the tree behind him. God, Giyu was tired. The climb was hard. He rested a bit by that tree. He ate some provisions and began to concentrate his breathing more carefully again.

Meanwhile, the heavy, stolen sword (clearly too big for him) weighed down his belt, hanging and almost plowing the ground behind him. This also hindered his progress. Giyu stumbled upon a missing section of the stone path in the mountainous terrain as he climbed higher by shorter routes (still not straying far from the main, traveled one). His short arms could barely reach the branches to climb to another cliff. But there was also an advantage to his weak, stiff body.

It weighed almost nothing, and when he reached a branch, after struggling to move several huge stones, Giyu could easily jump across. It was gradually getting dark. Besides the incredible fatigue, which would make fighting the demon (if he found it today) harder, mosquitoes seemed to have attacked Giyu all at once. Seriously, people live on the mountaintop, why don't these mosquitoes like them? Not sweaty enough?

Giyu decided to stay in one place until it was completely dark. He needed to get used to the darkness, and then go hunting. His hands trembled slightly with anxiety before killing the creature. Giyu was so confident in his victory that he was almost arrogant. With this body, defeating the creature would be luck. What was he thinking when he came here?

His heart beat steadily, he inhaled and exhaled deeper than concentration required. His hand rested on his sword, gripping the hilt and clenching his palm as if Giyu letting go of his only weapon meant he would die immediately, without delay. His legs ached like never before. They were ready to refuse to move, constantly buckling with any extra movement. Even standing on them was difficult! But Giyu stubbornly ignored it.

His eyes, with half-closed lids, looked at the last glow of the sunset – it was time to act. He forced himself to stand up from his spot in the clearing. Giyu closed his eyes. The darkness before him faded compared to the sounds on the mountain. He tried to catch every one. How the wind disturbed the leaves on the trees, how the birds quickly flew to their nests for the night. Mostly, the sounds of the night mountain were silence. Complete, broken only by the wind, the murmur of a distant river, and... A crunch.

He opened his eyes immediately. The sound came from the west of the mountain, and Giyu ran there without a second thought. His steps were short, his sword swung and hit rocks and the ground, making unnecessary noise. It irritated him to the point of grinding his teeth, but he could do nothing. The most important thing now was the target. The thing that made noise a few seconds ago. Giyu ran between the trees, trying to find the source of the sound. He suppressed his own cries of pain from his constantly scraped-to-blood feet touching sharp rocks, branches, and pinecones. Giyu would endure.

At some point, something flashed between the fir trees, not resembling the forest landscape at all. Giyu stopped abruptly, turning his head and torso towards the creature in motion.

It stood between the trees, repulsive, with bloody hands and a dull, fanged smile.

Giyu heard a disgusting chuckle.

He found him.

The demon from the mountain was here.

Chapter Text

Breathe.

Breathe deeper – Giyu told himself. His left hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his katana. He stared into the creature's eyes, afraid to even blink at that moment. Time seemed to slow down. It stopped moving, it halted. The demon also watched, not twitching or trying to speak, though it emitted a disgusting chuckle. The moonlight illuminated the trees behind the creature, but this light gave Giyu the necessary information for his attack. The task was simple – don't let the demon escape, force it to burn at dawn. He would have to chase the creature around the mountain, severing its limbs, again and again. Giyu didn't know where its lair was, so he would need to keep the creature within a certain radius, without losing sight of it for too long.

–Hee-hee-hee, – the demon suddenly laughed more clearly. –I thought some man was running around here! But it's some, ha-ha, little-e-e thing!

The nasal voice made Giyu feel an urge to lop off the creature's head as quickly as possible. He stepped forward, changing his stance for a kata, drawing his katana in one swift motion. And-and-and... It didn't come out of the scabbard completely. His arms were too short for this sword! With a movement lasting a second, Giyu shifted the scabbard further down his belt, fully drawing the katana. His sensations were dual – holding the katana felt both familiar and completely alien.

For a moment, his old body appeared before him, and he breathed deeply again. The demon, upon seeing the sword, simply inhaled again and laughed with renewed vigor. Giyu simply didn't have the strength to listen to the vile creature's taunts. His legs ached incredibly, bleeding, but he felt as if he had received a new surge of energy. He wanted to kill the creature more than he wanted to think about his aching legs. The sword in his hand trembled slightly, like that of a seasoned alcoholic. Giyu furrowed his brows, watching this with displeasure, then remembering that he had a second hand. Gripping the sword with both hands, recalling his first training sessions with Master Urokodaki, the katana stopped shaking. Good, the first step was taken.

A melody from old memories began to play in his head, from when he and Sabito trained together on bokken swings. "One, two, three," and several hundred more repetitions of the same action. He inhaled the sharp mountain air. Memories flashed before his eyes, the sword slowly transforming into a bokken. Strike correctly, maintain direction, don't grip the handle too tightly, and... slice the creature into small pieces. He couldn't stop, he couldn't think too long about his next move.

You can't stop, you can't think too long about your next move. Fortunately, he has enough combat experience. His consciousness will analyze the movement in slow motion, and the child's body of Giyu still has an equally important task. With three steps, he covered the distance between himself and the demon. Due to the katana, his center of gravity shifted forward, but this did not prevent him from severing part of the creature's fingers. A shriek cut through the silence of the mountain, and Giyu almost winced at the unpleasant sound. The demon regrew its fingers in a few seconds, which was quite slow, but already fast enough to worry about the presence of demonic art. If this is the case, then it will be even worse than anticipated.

–H-hunter!– the demon finally managed to utter a coherent word.

And in the very next second, it bolted down the mountain. Alright, Giyu can work with this. Running after the demon, he had to move his frail legs twice as fast. Gods, why are they so short! Branches crunched under his feet, and clumps of earth slid down. The horned back of the creature loomed before his eyes, breathing heavily and constantly turning its head back to see if Giyu was chasing it. In an instant, the demon disappeared from his field of vision.

For a moment, he was scared, wondering where the creature could have gone. A sudden change in position from stable to freefall gave him the answer he needed. He couldn't change his position, though he tried. Giyu fell onto his right side, pulling his shoulder. He immediately got up and began searching for the demon, his vision blurred from hitting his head. A green spot appeared a couple of meters away, already hidden behind the tree trunks. The creature wouldn't get far; Giyu would definitely take care of that! Quickly darting around the trees, he caught up to the demon and pierced it with the tip of his katana. The shriek was deafening, but understanding why the demon was screaming, Giyu could only smile. It seemed he was slowly becoming like Shinazugawa. That one would also smile incredibly creepily when he heard the demonic cries of pain. It wasn't that Giyu himself was a fan of torturing demons, like Shinobu and the aforementioned Shinazugawa, but now, when his efforts had been nullified, it brought him pleasure. Giyu would avenge everyone who had died in his past-future. With one movement, he sliced open the demon's chest, listening to the wet squelching of blood in the mountain mud and the shrieks. Giyu didn't remember demons screaming like this from an ordinary sword in his past life.

Perhaps this one was just cowardly? He didn't dwell on it for long. The demon abruptly turned to face him and tried to grab him with its clawed hand. Giyu believed that if it had been even a centimeter closer, the demon would have definitely grabbed him and broken his spine. But since Giyu was further away, he managed to dodge. Following that, he hit his face against the trunk of the nearest tree. The demon ran in a circle and apparently decided to kill Giyu on the spot and not run around the mountain.

Biting his tongue to avoid screaming, Giyu got back on his feet. The creature turned out to be dangerously close. Acting on the combat instincts of his soul, he took a deep breath into his lungs, threw his katana slightly behind his back, preparing to execute a form:

–Mizu no kokyu: ni no kata: mizu guruma, – but he immediately realized his mistake. The forest became incredibly quiet; the demon's severed head, its mouth open in terror, made no sound. Giyu only heard an unpleasant shift in his shoulder and the sound of overstretched muscles.

At that very moment, his consciousness was torn apart by a throbbing pain in his left shoulder. He let out a quiet cry after all, collapsing to the ground. The demon's body was trying to get up and retrieve its head from the ground, so Giyu allowed himself a brief pause. ("Great, now you've dislocated and strained your dominant shoulder, you idiot!" "Shut up, Shinazugawa.")

Things were only getting worse. The sounds returned. He had already pushed himself up slightly, leaning on his right shoulder, when he noticed the demonic creature finally put its head back on its neck and leaped at Giyu. Improvisation had always been crucial for demon hunters. Those who couldn't improvise died faster. Considering Giyu had never been particularly creative, he had to train himself for spontaneous, unusual maneuvers in combat. Now, he was grateful for it. The katana was too long to impale the demon on. So, Giyu tossed it upwards, calculating that the angle at which he threw his only weapon would cause the katana to spin and pierce the creature's body with its tip.

He hit his head on a rock when the demon knocked him down and felt a sharp pain in his tongue. Salty liquid flowed into his mouth. His head spun, felt heavier than usual, and something wet trickled down the back of his neck. ("Things are just getting better and better, now you've bitten your tongue and bashed your head!" "Will you shut up or not?!")

The katana plunged into the demon's back at the most opportune moment. It pierced through the creature and... pinned Giyu himself to the ground, as it sliced through a part of Giyu's kimono and a portion of his right side along with the demon. He quickly pulled his legs up and pushed the demon away with a force he hadn't expected from himself. Giyu himself jumped onto the demon, instead of the katana, which he grazed with his hand in motion, tearing his kimono again, this time near his arm. He grabbed the stone he had fallen on. With a crunch, he broke the creature's skull. He kept breaking it, and breaking it, for who knows how long.

Until the creature's arms reached his back, Giyu hadn't noticed anything around him. Dangerous. Ripping through the back of his kimono, along with the shirt underneath and his skin, the demon began to reattach its head. Giyu jumped off the body, giving the monster room to maneuver. The katana was still lodged up to its hilt in the demon's back and, to some extent, in his kimono. Its sharp end tore through the sleeve. The demon had already managed to stand up, turned its back, and started running again.

Giyu managed to pull the katana from the creature's back, then began a new chase up the mountain. He felt no fatigue, nor pain, which was dulled by the adrenaline from his near-death experience.

With the new dawn, the creature, with a furious scream, burned in the sun's rays. With the new dawn, Giyu finally understood – this was all real. He would kill demons again and again, returning to this moment as many times as necessary. He was born for this.

Only last time he destroyed the lives of his friends and family. This time, he won't let his loved ones suffer. The sun illuminates his face, and Giyu realizes he's covered in blood.

He won't have anywhere to wash, and he doesn't care about that right now anyway. As far as he remembered, no one cared when a child wandered around the village covered in blood.

It wasn't their business.

He committed his first demon slaying in this time.

Giyu did what he had to do.

Only the hardest part remained.

The thing he didn't want to do, but it was for the best. Safer for them.

All that was left was to say goodbye.

***

Giyu disappeared.

Four days ago, Tsutako woke up in the room, didn't see Giyu next to her, and said nothing. She thought he had gone back to the veranda again. Maybe he had stopped talking again, but things were getting better, right? Uncle Tadashi said not to let him get too lost in his thoughts, so Tsutako wouldn't let him. When she went out to the engawa and didn't see Giyu, her heart started to beat with alarm. She reassured herself that he might be at their parents' house. It happened sometimes. Giyu would sometimes go to his parents' house to sleep when he was younger. When her parents and Uncle Tadashi came out of their rooms for breakfast, without Giyu beside them, she raised the alarm. Where could her younger brother have gone?!

Without eating, they went through the village shouting her brother's name, ignoring the villagers' displeasure. They quickly calmed down, realizing what was happening. The whole village went around the area, asking all the travelers and those leaving about Giyu. It seemed someone even went to neighboring villages to ask about him. At the same time, another disappearance was discovered – someone had stolen a katana from Shibiki-san. Entering the smithy and not seeing his best sword on the wall, Shibiki-san raised the alarm. Someone tried to connect the disappearance of Giyu and the sword, some even yelled at her mom and dad, calling their son a dishonorable thief. These people were quickly put in their place, saying that it made no sense for Giyu to drag a sword with him, nor did he have the strength.

Tsutako couldn't sleep for the second day. It felt as if if she closed her eyes, Giyu would leave forever and never return. Thoughts swirled in her head about the meaning of Giyu's actions. Why did he leave, where to, and why... Was it his decision, made the day before, before he spoke? Tsutako didn't know the answers to her questions. The unknown tormented her along with the fear for her younger brother. Was he alright? Was everything okay with him? Was he alive? She didn't know.

She suppressed the urge to grab her hair and tear it out in clumps, just to distract herself a little. And yet, she went out onto the engawa again, with her eyes half-closed, meeting the dawn, just as Giyu used to do. (She was waiting for him.) She heard the movement of the gate, and a guess immediately appeared in her mind. Tsutako, fumbling with her kimono, ran through the estate's garden towards the gate.

–Giy...! – She didn't manage to finish his name before noticing her brother's appearance.

And he... He looked simply awful! His hair was matted with dirt, with bits of dried blood and earth. Tangles, dust, and clumps of mud were visible in it. His face was smeared with dust, and a dried streak of blood ran from his mouth and nose, traceable to the left side of his neck. His entire kimono was stained with mud and blood, torn by something sharp and blunt at the same time. Like the claws of a wild beast. The thought crossed Tsutako's mind that Giyu had gone to the mountain to kill the beast that had appeared there. Oh, gods! If he looked like this in his clothes, what was underneath?!

–Gods! What happened to you?! Where have you been?! We were so worried about you, the whole village went looking for you in the forest! Mother cried so many tears, you scoundrel! – She tried to distract herself from Giyu's appearance, but still looked at his ruined clothes with fear.

–Tsutako, – Giyu's calm, measured voice interrupts her agitated tirade. So little, and yet so much emotion is poured into her name. She doesn't see it on her brother's face or in his movements. Only in the sound of her name does she hear everything he feels. –I've come to say goodbye.

What?

–What? – she asks, her voice trembling slightly. –What do you mean?

Tsutako smiles nervously, forcing herself to believe Giyu is joking. But her brother's gaze, somehow filled with wisdom and immense understanding, mixed with the deepest sadness, tells her otherwise. Tsutako's heart plummets the moment she realizes Giyu isn't joking at all. His appearance no longer matters to her; only his heavy words, which have become a stone within her, remain. Her legs tremble slightly.

–W-why? Why are you leaving us? – Her eyes sting unpleasantly, but Tsutako pays it no mind. –Are you that unhappy with us? What did we do wrong? What did I do wrong? The air in her lungs runs out, and burning tears stream from her eyes. Tsutako continues to ask.

–Are you leaving because we couldn't help you this month, without Uncle Tadashi? Or because Dad yelled at you then? – Her nose is stuffy, and Tsutako gasps for more air into her lungs. –Tell me! We'll fix everything, I promise! I'll talk to them, I'll beg for anything, just don't go-o-o-o-!

Sobbing shakes her body. Her hands grow cold, like they would in a winter frost without gloves or any other warming clothing. It feels as though all the blood has drained from Tsutako, concentrating somewhere in her heart. It bleeds from pain. Oh, Giyu! Why are you leaving?! What did she do wrong?! Why?!

–Tsutako... – Giyu's voice cracks, but quickly recovers. –I'm not leaving because you did anything wrong.

–Don't go, please! I-I'll play with you as long as you want! I'll ask permission from our parents so you can play with your friends longer! I'll cook daikon! But don't go, I beg you! – She seems not to hear him. Her pleas, with a breaking voice, come from her chest. Giyu walks up to her and places his dirty hands on her kimono shoulders, smudging them.

–Tsutako! – he finally shouts a little, to get her attention. With his squeaky, childish voice, it's not as impactful, but Tsutako immediately lifts her head from the ground and holds her breath, trying to stop her crying. –It's not your fault. – It's simple... It's better this way, – Giyu smiled sadly.

–But why?.. –You see, I have something to do. Something important. – What is "very important"? –Another sob and blurred vision from tears, begins to clear up. Tears are still standing in her throat, Tsutako wants to continue crying.

–I can't tell you everything,– Giyu lowered his head regretfully.

–Will you ever tell me? What is it? – she asked hopefully. Seeing the gentle condescension in Gia's eyes, as if he was the senior here, Tsutako realized that he probably wasn't.

"Keep an eye on him, maybe you've woken up to a genius!"

Oh, how much she would have given if Giyu hadn't woken up one night with his genius! Another flood of tears prevented Tsutako from asking another question. Giyu put his arm around her shoulders and she did not notice the quiet hiss with which he pressed against her.

–Understand, Tsutako, it's better this way... –he pulled away.

– .. Will you come back? – A soft look, clouded by her tears.

–No,– Giu answers with confidence. –I'm not coming back here anymore.

Tsutako looks at him in horror, is going to grab his hand and never let go. If only he wouldn't leave! Her adorable, albeit new, little brother! Oh, her little, little Giu! A cheerful, cheerful, beloved younger brother!

- no... She whispers as Giu turns his back on her. - No!

He ignores her like before.

- No! Giyu!

Giуu doesn't even turn around. He only leaves the estate with a measured step, and Tsutako cannot find the strength to stand up and prevent him. It's like he has a power, much, much, much stronger than the one Tsutako herself has. He can make her stand still and do nothing with just a glance. Filled with wisdom, understanding and grief.

Giyu seemed to be several decades older than her. She wants to run after him, but the inexorably retreating back gets smaller and smaller, until it finally disappears on the horizon of the dawn sun. It is only at the last moment that Tsutako notices that Shibiki-san's katana is hanging on Giyu's belt. When her parents run out to her screams, along with Uncle Tadashi, she is on her knees, soiling her kimono and feet in mud. Dad comes out with a terrified face and freezes in place, not understanding what happened. Uncle Tadashi only begins to crumple the sleeves of his kimono in alarm.

–Tsutako! Tsutako, what happened?! – Mom asks her, leaning over her and hugging her shoulders, a little tighter than Giyu had done before. Tsutako is still cold, it seems she will never get warm. She couldn't stop him. She was powerless against her younger brother. All she could do was sob uncontrollably and repeat the same thing.

–He's gone! He's gone!

Why Giyu? Why?...