Chapter Text
A hundred push-ups, two obstacle courses, three hours of Total Concentration training. Two hundred repetitions of the First Form of Water Breathing, a dozen sparring matches against Sensei Urokodaki himself, followed by meditation underneath the waterfall neighboring their teacher’s home.
It had already been a long day when Sensei Urokodaki declared that Sabito and Giyu were to run three leagues around Mount Sagiri as their final leg of training for the evening.
“I’ve made a special treat for your efforts today,” said Urokodaki, his voice as gruff and unyielding as ever. “Should you return to the cabin by nightfall, you will have earned your portions.”
And with that, he stepped back inside and shut the door.
Giyu exhaled sharply. His muscles ached, yet he turned to face the mountain as he had been instructed. He had always thought Sensei Urokodaki’s home was beautiful; it was far removed from society, as his own childhood house had been, and there were plenty of trees, fresh water, enough natural bounties to live on the land for a long time.
Yet as he took one more deep breath and faced the mountain in question, Giyu couldn’t help thinking—perhaps with a sharp pang of bitterness—that today, it looked especially cruel.
A hand suddenly clamped onto Giyu’s shoulder. Warm. Supportive.
“Come on, Giyu,” said Sabito, who was smiling in his direction. “We’ve got a mountain to conquer.”
He didn’t wait for a response before blasting off in the direction of the mountain path, his heels kicking up dirt and dust as he left Giyu behind.
Giyu hated being left behind. His parents had done so. Then his sister had, too, even though it hadn’t been her fault, and she shouldn’t have…
He wouldn’t be left behind by Sabito, too.
The trees whipped by as he rocketed after Sabito, whose yellow and green haori was taunting him a number of steps ahead. He could hear his friend laughing through the trees—“Keep up, Giyu!”—as the sun slowly crept down the western horizon.
Every step made his knees wobble, as though Giyu’s body was liable to give out underneath him at any moment. Sweat poured down from his forehead, and he was almost certain his arms would no longer lift above his shoulders, even if it gave it his all. But he’d been training for a number of months by this point, and his body had been honed with care and precision. Even if he didn’t think he could take another step… he would.
With the onset of early autumn, the evening air was crisp. Giyu took a great breath, opening his airways as he’d been taught. The sharp chill flew into his throat, filled his chest and lungs, simmered in strength within his diaphragm.
He would not be left behind.
And in an instant, his entire body warmed. Strength flooded his arms, his legs, as though his blood were a racing river. Fatigue no longer dogged Giyu’s heels; now, he felt capable. Beyond capable—he felt truly powerful.
Total Concentration.
His pace quickened. The silhouettes of the trees roared past him. The snags of the surrounding brambles were nothing, the ache in his legs had evaporated, the ground was practically launching him to where he needed to go. Giyu kept his gaze resolutely fastened on the hem of Sabito’s haori, determined to catch up.
Besides, Sabito would never let him hear the end of it if Giyu didn’t give demon slayer training anything less than his best.
Sabito blinked as Giyu finally met him, side-by-side. He ducked underneath a low-hanging branch, yet when next he spared Giyu a look, Sabito was grinning. “Nice work. I’m still going to beat you, though!”
Giyu had no doubt about that. Sabito had long since gotten the hang of Total Concentration, and even without that in consideration, he had always been the stronger one between them. Not that Sabito ever flaunted his ability. He’d always been quietly humble, choosing to express his strength in deeds rather than words.
Giyu respected him immensely. Sabito had also lost a sister to the demons that prowled nighttime streets and mountains—yet even still, Sabito found reasons to be bright. To smile at him, even though Giyu had never been much of a talker. To treat him with kindness, going so far as to bandage the wounds he sustained during training, or share one of their few blankets when winter’s hooks dug into their skin.
He would never have made it this far without Sabito.
So Giyu smiled back in his direction, knowing perfectly well that Sabito’s preferred method of thanks was for Giyu to give training his all, and said, “You might, but I’ll still put up a fight!”
His response made Sabito laugh, even though the sound was labored. It was a sound Giyu had always treasured. “Just the way I’d want it!”
They had finished ascending the mountain, which meant the physically laborious part of the training was over. Now, it was a matter of controlling their own speed and footing—it was integral not to get sloppy or careless, or else their balance would be lost. Sensei Urokodaki had always told them that the most important thing was to keep their senses sharp.
With the natural increase of speed as the pathway began sloping downward, Giyu kept his sharp eyes peeled on what lay ahead. Branches, tree trunks, bushes, holes in the dirt; he leapt over them, ducked underneath them, swerved to the sides as was necessary. And aside him, Sabito was doing the same, laughing all the way down.
Before they knew it, a hazy trail of smoke could be seen above the treetops: a sure sign of Sensei Urokodaki’s cabin. Based on the way the sun was hovering in the sky, they only had sixty more seconds before full dark would descend.
“Come on, Giyu!” bellowed Sabito. “We can make it!”
He poured on additional speed, a feat Giyu thought was surely impossible. The flora itself seemed to part as Sabito tore down the final few steps, towards the place they had trained and slept for the past thirteen months.
“Right,” Giyu whispered to himself. He winced as he stepped wrong, narrowly avoiding rolling his ankle. The misstep threw off his breathing—and all at once, the sheer agony of the day’s training slammed into him at full force. Giyu yelped as he stumbled forward, vying to banish the newfound spikes biting into the corners of his eyes.
But there was no way Giyu would give up now, because every time he'd closed his eyes the past thirteen months, he could see his big sister. Tsutako was supposed to have been married the day after the demon entered their home, but she had hidden him away in the closet and tried to face down the monster by herself. Even if it took his whole life… Giyu was going to pay her back, and prove himself worthy of her protection and sacrifice.
The only way he could do that was by never giving up. By fighting—forever and ever—for her. Just as Sabito had reminded him only a few days past.
A ragged scream split Giyu’s lips as he committed to the final bounds down the hill. He’d lost feeling in his legs, lost feeling in his feet, but that didn’t matter as he slid forward, staggering to a stop as his body practically ground to a halt ahead of Urokodaki’s door.
His breath was coming fast. Almost too fast. Giyu’s vision spotted—he swayed where he stood—
A hand again clamped onto Giyu’s shoulder. Warm. Supportive.
“I’ve got you,” said Sabito. Close; he was so close. One arm wrapped around Giyu’s body, keeping him upright. “Relax your chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Remember?”
Giyu did remember. And having someone he trusted so completely by his side made it easier to follow the most rudimentary of their instructions.
With those deep breaths restored and the lightheadedness fading away, the ache in his head, his legs, slowly began to lessen. If he could find Total Concentration again, the way he did on the mountain path… pain after training might even become a thing of the past, just as it had become for Sabito.
“There you go.” Sabito released him—the space at Giyu’s side became glaringly empty as he moved towards the door. “Now let’s get some food.”
And inside the cabin they went, just as the sun disappeared over the tops of the trees.
As expected, Sensei Urokodaki was waiting for them, sitting cross-legged ahead of the cauldron where he prepared most of their meals. A hearty stew was already waiting for them in three clay bowls… and sitting upon a plate were six skewers of what looked to be dango.
Sabito’s eyes widened as they fell to the desserts. While he did not say anything as he took his usual place at their mentor’s side, Giyu knew his desires were locked on that plate. He remembered dango had been Sabito’s sister’s specialty, once upon a time.
The beginning of the meal was quiet. The two boys were positively famished after such a hardy day of training—and being only thirteen years of age, Sabito and Giyu were often hungry even without the additional physical strain.
It was only when Sabito had demolished his first bowl and was serving himself a second that their comfortable silence was broken. “Giyu learned how to use Total Concentration breathing today.”
Heat flooded Giyu’s face at the way Sabito cast him such a glowing look.
“Did you, now?” asked Urokodaki. He turned Giyu’s direction; it had always been odd, how he would never take off that goblin mask. Not even during meals was it removed.
“I… think so,” said Giyu. He was not sure what else to say.
Urokodaki nodded approvingly, inspecting him with a most critical eye. “Yes… it would appear you’ve tapped into it, at least in the most basic sense. Very good, Giyu. We will keep working at it until you’re confident enough to maintain Total Concentration for extended periods of time.”
Praise from Sensei Urokodaki was rare. Giyu could not help the small smile from trailing over his lips as he quietly continued to enjoy his stew.
Owls had begun hooting and crickets chirping by the time their main meal was over, and Urokodaki was pushing their dessert towards the two young men with the words, “Partake in two of these treats. The remainder will be saved for—”
Yet he didn’t get any further than that before Sabito was practically diving for the silver plate, both his left and right hand seizing his two skewers. Little to no decorum was displayed as he took his first ginormous bite into the sweetened rice flour. Giyu could not help grinning as he watched him enjoy; such an unmannerly reaction was rather unlike Sabito, after all.
Urokodaki sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps that was to be expected. You’ve put in a lot of training. Now. Giyu.” As he said Giyu’s name, he extended the plate in his direction.
Giyu carefully took two skewers within his hands. One of the dango seemed a plain sugar, while the other was infused with red bean—his favorite.
With two skewers still remaining on the plate, Urokodaki grunted and turned towards the next room, the platter in hand. “The rest are for tomorrow. We will continue with meditation training shortly after dawn. Be ready.”
By the time Sensei Urokodaki departed, Sabito had already finished the first of the dango skewers in his hands, and was busy devouring the second. Giyu began partaking of the plain flavor, doing what he could to focus on and maintain Total Concentration breathing. He closed his eyes, attempting to visualize his own body, the way he had once been taught…
After only a few moments, a reluctant sigh met his ears. “I probably should’ve savored that more.”
Giyu opened his eyes again. Sabito was inspecting the barren skewers in his palms with a strange melancholy—upon seeing Giyu’s inquisitive look, Sabito said, “It’s been so long since I’ve had dango, I didn’t think to appreciate it. More the fool, me.”
“You can have mine,” said Giyu, extending the second not-yet-touched treat his way.
Sabito, however, shook his head. “That wouldn’t be fair to you at all. And isn’t red bean your favorite?”
Giyu couldn’t help but feel pleased despite himself. He hadn’t actually thought Sabito would remember something so mundane about him…
As soon as he beheld the mischievous light slowly filling Sabito’s face, however, the warmth in Giyu’s chest was replaced by suspicion. “What are you planning?”
“Say, Giyu…” Sabito raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you owe me a favor, since you lost our bet last week?”
The reminder of the bet in question made Giyu sigh.
– Defensive training, sparring. Giyu is good at this. Water Breathing makes sense because of it. It flows, natural, from every form. He manages to rebuff Sensei Urokodaki once, twice, three times—even if he is still holding back.
“Bet I can still land a hit on you, though.”
Sabito, as always. Grinning, sunlight hitting his peach-colored hair. Silver eyes issue a challenge, the way they always do. Playful; bright. Pretty.
Giyu swallows hard. “I bet you can’t.”
“Yeah?” Sabito extends a wooden bokuto his direction. “If I win, you owe me a favor.”
“And if I win?” Giyu says.
“Simple.” Sabito lowers into an offensive stance. “Then I owe you one.” –
Giyu could’ve rebuffed the hit. He knew he could’ve, if he had truly focused and dedicated his full ability to the impromptu match.
But… he had been distracted. Sabito had always moved with an elegance that Giyu admired, and was even vaguely jealous of. Water Breathing was based on versatility and flexibility as well as defense, and… Giyu had found himself watching, observing, more than defending. And that was without mentioning a tiny, quiet part of him had wanted Sabito to win—so Giyu had let the strike fall, and ‘lost’ their bet.
Now, he was wondering if he’d regret it.
“Yes…” he said slowly. “Why?”
Sabito gestured towards the room in which their teacher slept, and quietly said, “I’m going to call in that favor. Can you grab my last dango skewer for me?”
The thought of sneaking into Urokodaki’s room made Giyu’s stomach flip. “Why don’t you just take mine?”
“I already told you. It wouldn’t be fair.” Sabito chuckled; a low, almost evil gesture. “And besides, I think watching you squirm would be fun. You’ve always been such a rule-follower.”
“Well, you’ve always been a troublemaker,” retorted Giyu. He knew neither of them were wrong—the times that Sabito had been dealt extra training as punishment were too numerous to count. And Giyu himself had grown up rather sheltered, so far away in the mountains… he and Tsutako had always been the quiet sort as a result. Even now, after a year of hard training, there was still much he knew he had to learn of the world.
Sabito’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “And now you will be, too. Dango, please.”
There was no real way out of it. Giyu knew perfectly well that he was stuck between a proverbial rock and a hypothetical hard place. The only way out from here was through.
He groaned and carefully rose to his feet. “Fine. Wait here.”
Electing to ignore Sabito's complacent smirk, Giyu tiptoed towards the doorway leading into Sensei Urokodaki’s room. Their teacher had always had the uncanny ability to fall asleep in seconds, and that ability didn’t seem to fail on that night, either. Soft sounds of snoring emerged from behind the sliding door—as Giyu placed a somewhat shaking hand upon the latch, he noted Sabito grinning at him from the opposite end of the main room.
“Shut up,” muttered Giyu, even though Sabito hadn’t said anything. Then he gently slid the latch open.
He was thankful the sliding doors in the cabin didn’t squeak the way they did where he grew up. It opened softly, betraying no hint of his intrusion. It was dark inside, the candle already having been extinguished. Giyu needed to blink a few times so his eyes could adjust to the practically nonexistent light.
When Giyu stepped inside and carefully slid the door shut behind him, he noted Sensei Urokodaki already asleep upon his futon in the middle of the room. There was a low desk along the far wall, his katana sitting upon it, a couple of shelves bordering the desk—
The silver plate gleamed on—of course—the tallest shelf.
Giyu wasn’t sure if he’d be able to reach that high. He was growing taller, sure, but not to the point he could reach a platter two meters high without struggle. Perhaps he could stand upon the low desk and reach the platter from there. If he was lucky, it would be just enough of the height advantage he needed.
Gathering his courage, Giyu took a single step forward…
Yet was stopped in his tracks as Urokodaki muttered in his sleep and rolled over.
Giyu remained frozen; his heartbeat raged throughout his head. What was he doing? He had never snuck into their teacher’s room like this, and if he were to be caught, there would certainly be additional training sessions as punishment, just like they were always distributed to Sabito. It felt like it had taken forever for Giyu to earn Sensei Urokodaki’s trust and respect—he didn’t want to lose it just because he forfeited a bet.
On the other hand… Sabito had stuck his neck out for Giyu plenty of times, too. Whenever Giyu would lag behind in training, it was Sabito who’d stop and help him put the extra hours of work in once they were done for the day, Sabito who helped him honor the memory of their sisters, who was a close friend and—maybe stupidly—meant so much more to Giyu than just… that close friend.
That alone was enough to resolve Giyu’s nerve once again. As quietly as he could, he crept through the room and climbed onto the desk.
No creaks of groaning wood met Giyu’s ears; good. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to reach this plate after all.
Yet when he stuck his hand up towards the top shelf, his fingers only barely managed to graze the platter’s edge. If only he’d grown another few centimeters, the way Sabito had. That would make such a stealth mission negligible.
Giyu tried once more, determined not to fail so easily. He stood on the tips of his toes, reaching—
The platter was between his fingers. With as much care and caution as he could muster, Giyu brought it down towards him…
It came smoothly, the only sound a tiny dink! as one of the rounded edges caught the side of the shelf. And then the prize was fully in Giyu’s grasp: the last two skewers of dango, both of them in green tea flavors.
A grin brightened his face as he turned towards the door, as his hand reached for the latch so he might slip back into the main room undetected—
A hand suddenly clamped onto Giyu’s shoulder. Tight. Accusatory.
The hair on the back of Giyu’s neck stood up, a chill ran down his spine; how was it possible that he had moved so quickly, so quietly, from what seemed to be a deep sleep? He was at least grateful that he hadn’t dropped the platter when he’d been caught.
“I figured one of you would attempt something like this, but in truth, I never thought it’d be you, Giyu,” said Sensei Urokodaki. “Unless Sabito put you up to it?”
Giyu swallowed hard. It would be easy to blame Sabito for being caught, but what kind of friend would he be if he did that?
“No, Master,” said Giyu. He did not look over his shoulder, knowing that if he did, Sensei Urokodaki would see through the lie. “It was my idea. I was… still hungry.”
The silence he was met with told him that Urokodaki wasn’t buying it. But, for better or for worse, the man did not press the issue. Instead, all he said was, “I’ll be taking that platter back. You’ll be expected to run a full lap around Mount Sagiri prior to our meditation training in the morning.”
Giyu nodded, grateful that the punishment wasn’t anything worse. Though it put a sour taste in his mouth, he handed back his hard-won prize and, at his mentor’s ensuing glare, stepped back into the main foyer.
The fire was still dimly lit when he reemerged. Sabito was sitting in front of it, his legs crossed, a somewhat apologetic look on his face.
“You didn’t have to take credit for it, you know,” said Sabito, as Giyu meekly turned towards his own futon for sleep. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have underestimated the old man. Sometimes I forget he’s a former Hashira…”
But Giyu shook his head and met Sabito’s gaze with a smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t get the dango…”
Sabito chuckled. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s time I learned a thing or two about patience.”
He had a point. Sabito had always been the impatient sort. Waiting was not anything close to his strong suit.
“Good night, Giyu,” said Sabito. The other boy turned towards his futon—
“I don’t owe you a favor anymore, though,” said Giyu.
Sabito snickered. His silver eyes gleamed in the last vestiges of the dying fire. “No, you’ve paid your debt in full. I’ll look forward to watching you run tomorrow morning.”
“Shut up.”
Despite his semi-harsh words of good night… upon hearing Sabito quietly laughing in the darkness of the cabin, Giyu couldn’t keep himself from smiling.