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Snowflakes danced about in the cold, winter's wind. While the wind was not harsh enough to send anyone flying, Giyuu raised his left hand – his only hand – to steady his hat. He stood out on the city outskirts, out there on Óbuda, and beheld the ruins that stood before him. While they were certainly not as impressive as the photographs he had seen from Greece or Turkey, there was a special mournful quality to the stones; to the low walls, and the occasional free-standing pillar that dotted the landscape. There was an almost funerary serenity to the remnants of Aquincum. The snowfall from the previous day that bedecked the ruins gave the air of a civilization long-since forgotten that lay slumbered and muffled by a blanket of snow. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the ruins. This was the ruins of a city that accompanied the remains of the amphitheater that stood several blocks away.
A shiver went through Giyuu’s form. It was not due to the cold. These were echoes of the past, where he could only guess at the people who had lived here. He did some mental math. Over 1500 years had passed since these ruins had been abandoned. What would be left of him and his loved ones after 1500 years? Would his home be a pile of foundation stones, just like the ruins that stood before him? Perhaps a new home would be built atop it. Or even an entire city. His gaze looked westwards, toward the Buda Hills. No matter how much he squinted, he could not find the Elizabeth Lookout. It didn’t help that the hills were largely obscured by a veil of fog. It had been a lucky thing that his visit to the lookout had been during fairer weather.
He wondered if 1500 years ago someone had stood at the very place he stood and had gazed upon the hills during a blustery Winter’s day. Perhaps that very Roman citizen was also standing amid some ruins of the past that had now faded away with time.
A small hand poked at Giyuu’s side.
“Tsun tsun!” called out a little butterfly’s voice. “My, my, lost in thought again are we?”
A serene, genuine smile spread across Giyuu’s face. In the twelve years since the end of the disbanding of the Corps, smiles now came far more easily to him. They weren’t uncanny things anymore; they were looks of joyful warmth.
Giyuu exhaled, releasing a cloud of air that was briefly visible in the air. “What will be left behind?” he asked.
Shinobu looked out at the snow-shrouded ruins.
“Echoes of the past,” Shinobu responded after a while. “I don’t think anything is ever in vain. If it must be done, then it must be done. Even if one day it doesn’t leave a mark behind.”
“I wonder if they ever battled oni or any sort of yokai,” Giyuu murmured. “Maybe there is a kernel of truth to the stories that are passed down. Of gods and half-divine warriors.”
Shinobu reached out and took hold of her husband’s hand. She led him toward the ruins as she spoke.
“Who knows what truths and half-truths will be told even within our lifetimes. It’s one thing to have lived it versus what we have told the children.”
The stump that remained of Giyuu’s right arm ached. Memories of the Infinity Castle whirled through his mind, flying past him like the snowflakes that danced around him and Shinobu.
“It’s like that sword we saw at the castle. Perhaps it was truly wielded in wartime. Or maybe it merely hung on the wall and was never raised in anger.”
Shinobu winked at Giyuu. “Missing your sword already? We won’t need those out here.”
Giyuu chuckled. “And that I’m thankful for…to enjoy the fruits of peace. Wait, let’s stop here.”
Shinobu came to a stop before the remains of a stone wall that stood next to an ornately decorated column that leaned to the left at a precarious angle. A thick layer of snow covered the stone wall. Tiny imprints were left on the snow from where a bird had walked about before flying off when the two former-slayers approached.
Shinobu looked up at Giyuu. “Old age getting to you already?” She laughed. “Need a seat already?”
Giyuu chuckled. “No one, that’s not it. Thirty-six is young enough, right? Sitting won’t hurt, though.”
The snow was thick enough that brushing it aside wouldn’t help, so Giyuu opted to sit atop it. The thick woolen pants he wore would keep his bum warm for a while longer anyway. Shinobu sat down next to him and snuggled up close to him. She leaned against him and rested her head against his shoulder.
“You know, you really should wear Western clothes more. You’re downright elegant in them,” Shinobu mused.
Giyuu turned his head slightly. Shinobu wore a long, double-breasted grey coat patterned after a Western design. The coat ran past her knees and ended just above her pair of galoshes. She was regal in her appearance, like some fairy-tale royalty that had fluttered into the real world.
“You’re the more elegant one, Madame Butterfly,” Giyuu said reverently.
Shinobu scoffed. “That makes you Sir Butterfly then.”
Giyuu released Shinobu’s hand from his grip and brushed at the snowflakes that decorated her hat.
“Any time, any day.”
Giyuu leaned in and planted a kiss on Shinobu’s rosy cheek. He felt her warmth against his lips.
“I’m thankful to enjoy the fruits of peace with you.”
Shinobu’s response was immediate. She took hold of Giyuu’s scarf and pulled his head down, and firmly pressed herself against him as she kissed him. His lips were cold to the touch, but she could feel the warmth of his breath as it tickled her. Even though they had been married for years, both of their heart rates accelerated as if they were stealing a quick kiss between missions. If they had been in the warmth of the hotel room, the clothes would have been coming off in mere moments. However, outside in the cold as they were, they made do as they drank each other up. Ever the aggressive one, Shinobu pushed Giyuu back, which sent him down with a cry of surprise. As his back was now flush with the snow atop the ruins they had taken a seat on, Shinobu scrambled atop him before kissing him desperately and urgently. Giyuu reached up with his arm and steadied Shinobu as they made out.
It wasn’t long until they had completely melted through the snow layer and down onto the stone wall itself. The back of Giyuu’s coat, along with his pants, was now thoroughly wet with snow. When Shinobu withdrew, Giyuu’s teeth chattered.
Shinobu leapt up and extended a hand to Giyuu, who accepted it. The two laughed and giggled like mischievous children as they retraced their steps to the train station.
“We can get you some cocoa there,” Shinobu offered. “I don’t need you catching hypothermia again.”
Giyuu chuckled. “It would be well worth it.”
As the two made it to the station, Giyuu cast one last glance at the ruins of Aquincum. He couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what stories would be passed down in the future. Future nuance, future events that he couldn’t even begin to imagine, would have its own way with how it told the past. Even if one day no one remembered the Corps, his actions, the actions of Shinobu, and the actions of comrades both alive and long since passed would still echo loudly in a world free of demons.