Work Text:
Giyuu always knew he would be the first to go. Somehow, when he unlocked the mark, it was carved in his mind. He would be the first.
3 years since the war. He had just turned 24, and hadn’t told anyone about the growing ache in his bones. Not Uzui and his kids. Not Tanjiro. Not even Sanemi.
Giyuu could tell that Sanemi was worried. He tried to hide the way his body trembled at night or the way he stumbled on stairs. But nothing ever escaped Sanemi. His Nemi was too observant. It’s why Giyuu fell in love with him.
Giyuu was writing. It’s what he loved to do. Sanemi would read Giyuu’s tales of heroic sacrifice, loving, losing, and friendship.
They went together perfectly. A writer and a reader. Water and wind. Skin of porcelain and skin of scars.
The winter flowed into spring. Giyuu’s sleep grew more restless, and he often felt Sanemi’s arms around him, grounding him.
The blossoms were beautiful this year. Giyuu knew. He knew he wouldn’t be here much longer. He always requested to go see the cherry blossoms with Sanemi, and Sanemi always took him. Sanemi knew too.
Giyuu was alone in their home. Sanemi was out babysitting Uzui’s kids while he and his wives were out on a date.
Giyuu was writing.
Not his stories.
But letters. Words he could never say before he wouldn’t be here.
Uzui,
I hope you, the girls, and your kids live long and happy lives. I’m filled with sorrow, knowing I will not be able to see them grow. Thank you for being my friend.
- Tomioka
Tanjiro,
Please let the others know I care for them. You guys are a good bunch of kids, and you did good for the world. I’m proud of you. Thank you for being a friend.
- Giyuu
Sakonji Urokodaki,
I’m sorry I didn’t reach out often. I never knew what to say after Sabito.
I hope your retirement goes well and you find company from Tanjiro from time and time.
- Giyuu Tomioka
My beloved Sanemi,
My biggest regret in life is being unable to wed. We share countless nights, we have the feel of each other’s skin down to memory, and yet we must live unrecognized by our government.
Love isn’t a word that describes us. What we have, me and you, is more than love. There is simply no word that fits.
I never wished to worry or burden you with my declining health. I tried to keep quiet, but you knew. You always knew. It’s why I fell in love with you.
I wish we could have done more. Accepted each other before the war. Told our friends (or rather, your friends).
But wishing isn’t taking us anywhere. Focusing on the present is what we have.
And so, my dear, focus on what you have. Spend your time without me happy. Live your life with the time you have.
Always and forever,
- Yuu
Giyuu folded each letter neatly, sending crows to deliver all of them except for Sanemi’s. That one went on his pillow.
He decided he wanted to see the cherry blossoms again. He pulled over another layer of clothing to calm the chill in his bones, and quietly walked out. His steps were slow, legs trembling with achy bones and muscles, but his mind was determined.
Giyuu knew he had to rest soon. His legs were buckling under him. He found a tree, quivering with the breeze, and sat under it. He laid down and closed his eyes for a moment, just for a nap.
Giyuu never woke up.
Sanemi always knew Giyuu would be the first to go. He saw the way Yuu’s body ached and weakened after he turned 24, and it made his heart sink. He’d lived the last 3 years hoping there would be a miracle, that they could grow old together.
Now, he saw that it was only a bittersweet dream. He constantly thought of what he would change in the past.
He still fulfilled Giyuu’s every wish. The cherry blossoms were their most common escape from the world. Giyuu’s favorite place.
The laughter of children broke his thoughts, Uzui’s kids running around him. There were two. Twin boys.
“Bedtime.” Sanemi smirked, picking the kids up (one in each arm) and hauling them off to bed. A short story later, they were asleep.
Sanemi went back out, cleaning up toys as Uzui and the girls came home. They shared some light conversation, but the caws of a crow interrupted them. A letter..from Giyuu? Why would he need to- oh shit.
Sanemi left without a word. He ran and ran all the way home, lungs fighting for air.
The house was empty. A letter on Sanemi’s pillow caught his attention. He snatched it up, eyes struggling to decipher all the words from the shaky handwriting.
Tears were running down his face by the time he finished reading. He needed to find Yuu. Now.
Sanemi’s cries of “Yuu!” rang out through the forest. The delicate pink blossoms felt mocking of him as he ran.
A curled up lump of clothes caught his attention. Sanemi hesitantly approached it, and as it came into view his worst fear was confirmed.
“Yuu..oh Yuu!”
Sanemi wailed in the forest, clutching the peaceful body of his darling to his chest. The clothes Giyuu had on dwarfed his body, making him seem just like he was sleeping. But Sanemi’s knew better. Sanemi saw how Giyuu’s chest was still, and his body was limp.
Uzui found Sanemi a few hours later, wallowing in grief, still holding Giyuu. He guided Sanemi home, encouraging him to set the body down outside.
Sanemi spent the next few months with Uzui’s family. He felt so guilty for being unable to follow his dreams, but he couldn’t imagine doing that without Giyuu. The love of his life.
Uzui could tell Sanemi’s time was near. He rarely got out of bed anymore. Uzui tried to make him as comfortable as possible. His kids were confused as to why “Uncle Nemi” was so sick. Uzui didn’t have the heart to explain death to them.
The day finally came. Uzui woke up and checked on Sanemi only to find he had passed in his sleep. Uzui’s family held a small burial.
Sanemi’s grave was in between Genya and Giyuu’s graves. The two people he held closest.
That night, Sanemi saw Giyuu again.