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He breathed calmly—or at least, he tried to make it seem that way.
The flowers in his hands trembled slightly in the wind; their scent reminded him of Genya, and the memory hurt more than he was willing to admit.
He had never been good with emotions. His rough attitude and sharp tongue were nothing but a shield—a clumsy way to protect himself from the world. But the day he saw his brother die, that wall collapsed completely.
He had gone through too much: resentment toward his mother, wounds that never healed, the silent promise to protect Genya even if it cost him his life. Yet his wish to become a Demon Slayer ended up taking away the only thing he had left. He loved him more than he dared to admit, and still, he lost him.
Fate was cruel, unpredictable, and painful. All his effort to protect him had meant nothing, because Genya had died at the hands of the Upper First Moon.
They had lost more than they had gained.
Comrades, friends… almost all of them were gone, erased by a war that left them with almost nothing in return. What had they gained after so much pain? A few peaceful nights, dawns without blood, and a silence that weighed too heavily.
It wasn’t enough.
It couldn’t be, not after losing the Love and Serpent Hashira—who had loved deeply, but not long enough to live that love. Nor for the Insect Hashira, who died trying to avenge her sister.
The peace they had longed for could not compensate for the price paid. The scars left by their deaths ran deeper than any wound on the body.
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The creak of the engawa beneath his feet made him ease his grip.
He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but every time the dark-haired man was near, an odd calm surrounded him. A calm he didn’t understand, but one that made him feel safe… alive, even.
Though he denied it, he had learned to control himself because of him.
After the final battle against Muzan, many things had changed. Tomioka had changed, too. He was no longer the cold, expressionless man he once hated; now, in his silence, there was something different… serenity, perhaps.
Sometimes he thought they were friends, though neither ever said it aloud.
After the fall of the remaining Hashira, Tengen’s resignation, and the losses that scarred them, the few survivors had learned to hold each other up. Nothing would ever be the same, but the memory of those who were gone lived on—in their minds, and in their hearts, painful as it was to accept.
The peace after the final battle had made Tomioka someone different.
His eyes, once as cold as mountain water, now glimmered with quiet calm. He no longer seemed burdened solely by guilt, but with the tranquility of one who had learned to live with it. Sanemi watched him in silence, not sure when he had started to like that man so much—quiet, yet present; strong, yet gentle.
It was a small change, almost imperceptible to others… but for him, it was enough to bring peace.
The silence of the garden broke with a soft voice, barely a murmur among the wind.
“Shinazugawa-san…”
Sanemi didn’t turn. He grunted under his breath, more out of habit than irritation. Tomioka’s voice always sounded the same: calm, as if nothing could shake him. It used to annoy him; now, that calm felt… necessary.
He didn’t know why the dark-haired man kept showing up, always by his side, always in silence. Nor why it didn’t bother him anymore. Maybe because, amidst all they had lost, Tomioka was the only thing that remained. And that was enough not to drive him away.
“What do you want, bastard?” the albino growled, without taking his eyes off the pond and the fish swimming in it.
The place was beautiful, no doubt: small ponds scattered among trees, the air thick with damp earth and tranquility. The Water Estate was calmer than it appeared; problems seemed unable to reach its borders. Now he understood why the former Water Hashira had chosen to stay there, though for his taste, it was far too quiet.
After the explosion that took the Master’s life, the Water Estate had become the new meeting point for the Demon Slayers. It was large and secluded enough to be safe, and demons ignored it completely—making it a tactical refuge, though they no longer needed to worry about that.
It wasn’t as grand as the Butterfly Estate, but still large enough to get lost in. Even so, it was hard to imagine a single person living among so much silence, in a place so big… and so full of ataraxia.
“Ah… I-I…” The dark-haired man seemed to remember the reason for his visit. He took a breath, cleared his throat, and murmured almost inaudibly, “I came to say goodbye.”
Tomioka’s voice sounded sad, heavy, as if every word took effort to speak.
“G-Goodbye?” Sanemi repeated, ignoring the lump forming in his chest.
“Yes… I came to say goodbye. It’s over now. There are no more demons to hunt…” He lowered his gaze, a melancholy smile curving his lips. “Now I’ll just leave.”
“And where will you go?” Sanemi asked, not sure why his voice came out softer than he wanted.
“I’ll… go home.” The last word was almost a whisper—barely audible.
The dark-haired man looked down at a strip of fabric hanging from his haori, red with green and yellow patterns. Sanemi stared at it for a moment, remembering how he’d never understood why the man wore such a bright piece. The Sound Hashira once said the design was horrible—maybe it was—but on him, it didn’t look bad.
“Home?” Sanemi repeated, irony lacing his tone though not fully masking the concern. “Didn’t think you had a family, bastard.”
“I don’t… at least, not alive,” the dark-haired man replied calmly, though his voice carried an ancient sadness. “I’ll go finish my days with my master.”
Sanemi didn’t say anything at first. The only thing that crossed his mind were the Slayer Marks they both bore. They were doomed to die young—before twenty-five—and they only had four years left. He didn’t like thinking about the future, not when fate was already written.
“Ah… sorry. I didn’t know,” he finally muttered, awkwardly. His voice cracked slightly when he saw the faint, sad curve of the other’s lips.
“Don’t worry. I never knew my parents anyway. I lived with my older sister… until a demon killed her.” His pale fingers brushed the red part of his haori, and Sanemi understood that the fabric belonged to her.
Tomioka’s blue eyes lifted, meeting his.
“You know, Sanemi? I understand what you feel.”
The words caught him off guard.
“To lose someone… and believe you could’ve done something to stop it. My sister died a day before her wedding. She stepped between the demon and me. She died for me.” His voice trembled, and the white-haired slayer noticed his ocean eyes fill with tears.
“You’re not to blame for what happened to Genya,” Tomioka said, his calm tone hurting more than any shout ever could.
Sanemi froze. He hadn’t expected to hear that name from his mouth. He wanted to respond, to deny it, to say something—anything—but couldn’t. Because unlike Tomioka, his brother’s death was his fault.
At least, that’s what the voice in his head repeated every night.
“Hey, Sanemi… have you ever loved someone? Romantically, I mean?” The question caught him completely off guard.
Sanemi turned sharply, frowning. The other, unfazed, let out a small laugh and leaned back on the engawa, swinging his feet.
Like a child, Sanemi thought, annoyed.
“It’s silly, I know. We spent all our time surviving against demons and never had time for ourselves. I just think… it’d be nice to go home and find someone you love waiting for you.”
The other kept murmuring between chuckles, but Sanemi barely listened—until he heard the name:
“Kanae.”
“What did you say, bastard?” The laughter stopped immediately. Tomioka looked at him with a mix of amusement and calm.
“Now that I think about it, my question was silly. Obviously, you liked Kanae.”
The silence that followed weighed more than any blow. Sanemi hadn’t heard that name in years. He wouldn’t deny it—he had felt more than admiration for the late Flower Hashira.
But her memory had grown blurry, distant. Had he forgotten her? No.
He simply knew that even if she had lived, she never would’ve looked twice at someone like him.
“Don’t talk nonsense, idiot.” He denied harshly, though deep down, he knew he was lying.
He shot the other a quick glance—eyes closed, pretending to rest.
“And you?” he finally asked.
The confused expression on Tomioka’s face told him he hadn’t understood.
“I asked if you’ve ever loved someone. Romantically,” he repeated, lower.
The dark-haired man thought for a few seconds, exhaled softly, and finally answered:
“Yes.” It was a simple answer—too simple. “Actually… the way we met was kind of dumb.”
“You don’t have much time, so you’d better talk fast,” Sanemi replied, crossing his arms. Tomioka hadn’t expected him to show that much interest. It had been so long, and yet, remembering it made it feel like it happened just yesterday.
“San—Shinazugawa-san,” he corrected himself immediately, as if saying his name was a mistake. “It’s not very interesting, really. It was a long time ago… just a childish romance.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do, so start talking,” the albino grunted—but there was more curiosity than annoyance in his tone.
The dark-haired man leaned back on the engawa again, idly moving his hand as he searched for the right words.
“Well… uhm…” he muttered hesitantly. He drifted for a few seconds, unsure how to begin, before letting out a long sigh—as if freeing himself from an invisible weight.
“As I said, my sister died the day before her wedding…” he began, voice low and broken. “I tried to tell the people closest to me, but I was just a kid, and everything I said sounded like a fairy tale. No one believed me. They said I was crazy, that I should go back to my sister… but that was impossible. She was dead.”
He paused. His voice grew even softer, and for a moment, it sounded like he was talking to himself.
“I don’t remember it well… it was long ago. But I remember running away from the village. It was winter, and fog covered the forest. I had no food, I was exhausted… and one day, I just collapsed among the trees.”
The albino let out a faint, barely audible laugh.
“Your current self would call that completely stupid. Though… it would’ve been entertaining to see you run into a demon.”
The dark-haired man frowned but didn’t respond. He knew it wasn’t said in malice, even if it still stung.
Ignoring the comment, he continued:
“When I woke up, I was in a cabin. That was the first time I saw him. You remind me of him, Shinazugawa-san.” The albino raised a suspicious brow, and the other quickly added, “I mean your personality… always hating demons, so prickly toward others, with that strange sense of justice.”
Tomioka realized too late how that sounded. He looked down, flustered, and stammered, “A-ah, Shinazugawa-san, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you’re a good person, even if your temper is a bit… harsh.”
The albino clicked his tongue and frowned.
“Are you going to keep apologizing all morning or tell the damn story?” he interrupted, half annoyed, half amused.
“I met him because my master found me in the snow that day and took me in. I told him what happened to my sister, and they were the only ones who believed me. The following years I spent training with him… I guess I could define him in a few words: strong-willed. He never gave up, never tired of the harsh training our master gave us. He was unbreakable. A good support when I needed one—always patient, always helping me… until our master gave us our final trial, the one that sealed his fate.”
Sanemi didn’t dare interrupt. He understood the feeling of losing someone dear, the helplessness of moving on carrying that pain.
He fell silent, trembling slightly. His blue eyes filled with tears, but he was quick to wipe them away before they could fall.
“On the day of the Final Selection… he was gone. He left my side to protect me. I was weak and hurt, but he still looked after me while we ran from the demons. He saved every child there… but he was the only one who didn’t come back.” He laughed bitterly, trying not to break. “It’s ironic… he saved everyone, but not himself.”
He took a breath, but every word cost him more.
“On the last day, just before sunrise, a demon attacked us. Only minutes before dawn. He… he was always the kind of idiot who’d give his life for others. I’ll admit I was selfish then; I tried to stop him, but he was stubborn… and no matter how much I begged, he didn’t listen. When I realized he wouldn’t return, I let him go.” His voice cracked. “I regret that every day. I saw him die from that demon’s blow, saw him fall as his sword broke. A part of me died with him.”
He couldn’t take it anymore and began to cry.
It hurt. The memory replayed endlessly, an unhealed wound. Every time he tried to forget, he saw him die again. And whenever he thought he could rest, the memory returned… reminding him how useless he had been.
He didn’t know when it happened, but the albino’s arms wrapped around him in a comforting embrace.
“I don’t like saying this shit, but… you did what you could, okay? No one can blame you for that,” Sanemi murmured. He wasn’t someone who showed his feelings openly; when he did, people were often surprised. But the dark-haired man had been through the same, and that’s why he valued the gesture.
He returned the embrace, clinging tightly, as if afraid the other would vanish too. For a moment, he allowed himself to rest against his chest, hiding his face in the albino’s neck to calm down. The other’s quiet strength kept him steady—though he didn’t notice the faint blush that bloomed on Sanemi’s face.
The caw of Tomioka’s crow forced them apart. He smiled, a little embarrassed, but the albino said nothing—he just accepted the clumsy apologies the other muttered, though he wouldn’t have minded if that hug happened again.
“I see it’s time for you to go,” the albino said, avoiding eye contact.
He didn’t want to admit it, but those words hurt a little.
Was he afraid the other would forget him? Yes. He was terrified that the dark-haired man wouldn’t remember the name Sanemi Shinazugawa.
Because if he did forget… he’d wish for death himself.
The dark-haired man hugged him goodbye and walked away, leaving Sanemi with an odd emptiness in his chest and a question he didn’t dare voice.
He stood and entered the small traditional house. On the table, he noticed a red envelope signed by the dark-haired man, but without a recipient. He hesitated, then decided not to interfere and left it where he found it.
Footsteps approached, and the charismatic figure of the former Sound Hashira appeared with his usual grin.
“Oh, Shinazugawa, didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you’d gone with Tomioka.”
“And why the hell would you think that? Do you even think?” Shinazugawa shot back, tone sharp and mocking. The older man didn’t look amused.
“Hmm… maybe because you two seem inseparable lately. Something going on I shouldn’t know about? That’d be pretty flamboyant.”
“None of your damn business.” He stood and walked toward the door, the other following.
“Oh, but it is my business. After all, I’m probably the only one here who’s noticed what you two refuse to see…” Uzui grinned. “You both feel more than friendship, but you’re too blind to realize it.”
“What crap are you spewing now? I’m sure that bastard doesn’t feel anything for me,” Sanemi growled, frowning.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sanemi,” the ex-Hashira said, slinging an arm over his shoulder with a confident smile. “He asked me for help to tell you. I suggested a letter—Tomioka’s not exactly a social genius. I assume he wrote it, but whether he gave it to you… that’s the mystery. If he had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be with him right now.”
“I don’t believe a damn word you’re saying. And let go of me unless you want to lose that arm,” the albino snapped, shoving him off.
“Whoa, easy there,” Uzui laughed, hands raised. “Besides, if you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe that red envelope you found on the table.”
The older man’s smug smile stuck in his head like a thorn. Sanemi clicked his tongue, uneasy. What if it was true? He didn’t want to believe it, but the thought wouldn’t leave him. Maybe it was one of Uzui’s jokes… or maybe not. There was no reason for the dark-haired man to like him—not after everything: the cruel words, the times he pushed him away, the things he now regretted with every fiber of his being.
“I think you should go after him,” Uzui said at last. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
But the albino didn’t move. He just watched the path Tomioka had taken until his silhouette disappeared completely into the trees.
He didn’t know what to feel.
Tomioka had saved him more times than he could count. He had stayed even when Sanemi’s harshness should’ve driven him away.
He didn’t understand why, but he’d learned that the dark-haired man wasn’t someone who left easily.
He walked slowly, as if waiting for something—or someone—to stop him.
He knew exactly what he wanted, but refused to admit it.
Maybe he should go with him… stop being a coward and finally say what he felt.
If Sabito were alive, he’d probably already be scolding him for acting like an idiot.
“Do something, Giyuu. Don’t just stand there.”
He thought about the letter. It was too simple, too cowardly… but it had been the only thing he’d dared to do.
The crunch of leaves behind him pulled him out of his thoughts.
“You know there aren’t any demons left, idiot?” came a rough, unmistakable voice.
Tomioka turned slightly, surprised.
“Ah… Shinazugawa-san, you caught me a little off guard,” he said, using that calm tone he always used to hide his nerves. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m coming with you,” Sanemi replied, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Silence settled between them as they walked.
Only the wind and the rustle of branches kept them company. Neither dared to break it.
Tomioka could feel his heart in his throat; every step reminded him of the red envelope he’d left behind.
What if Uzui really told him?
He’d run into the tall man just after leaving the estate, and that satisfied look on his face had said everything—as if he knew Tomioka’s deepest secret. Which, to be fair, wasn’t far from the truth. The problem was what the former Sound Pillar might do with that information.
He couldn’t pretend indifference, not with Sanemi walking beside him.
“Is it true, Tomioka?” the albino asked, voice low and direct.
The dark-haired man tensed.
“Wh-what… exactly do you mean, Shinazugawa-san?” His tone was steady, but his hands trembled slightly.
Sanemi looked away. The air felt heavy in his lungs.
He wasn’t good with this kind of thing—never had been—but he needed to know.
“What Tengen said,” he finally growled, not bothering to soften the question. “Is it true that… you like me?”
Tomioka went silent.
He could feel the other’s gaze fixed on him—sharp, expectant.
He tried to speak, but his voice broke before the words came out.
Say it.
His heart pounded in his chest.
“I-I…” He took a deep breath. “Yes. I like you, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi stopped.
For an instant, he said nothing. Then, a quiet, nervous laugh slipped from his lips—closer to a sigh than a mockery.
“I like you too, idiot.”
The dark-haired man looked up, stunned. It didn’t seem like a joke—if it were, Sanemi would already be laughing in his face.
And then, the albino pulled him into a hug.
It was clumsy, brief—but real.
Tomioka froze, feeling the warmth of the other’s body dissolve some of his fear.
“Shinazugawa… is this a joke?” he asked softly, afraid to break the moment.
The albino frowned, pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.
“If it were a joke, would I do this?” he murmured, before taking his chin and pressing his lips against his.
The dark-haired man froze, startled… but soon let himself go.
It was a clumsy, inexperienced kiss—but warm.
Neither knew exactly what to do, and maybe that’s what made it feel so real.
When they pulled apart, Tomioka’s face was completely flushed.
He tried to speak, to apologize or say something coherent, but the words wouldn’t come.
Sanemi let out a small laugh, trying to hide his own nervousness.
“Move it, idiot. They’re waiting for you.”
“B-but are you really going to let me go like this?” Giyuu asked, still confused.
Sanemi frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I mean… we just confessed, and I don’t want to leave like this. I don’t want to leave you alone. I was going to go because I was afraid you’d reject me.”
The albino huffed and turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at him directly.
“I don’t care. You’re not skipping out on your master,” he grumbled, grabbing him by the arm so he’d keep walking. “Besides… I’ve got a feeling we’ll see each other again.”
Tomioka smiled faintly at those words, though the other didn’t notice.
The wind blew softly, and for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t seem so frightening.