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Like any other organization, the Demon Slayer Corps were no stranger to rumours. Like open secrets, they spread amongst the ranks like a wildfire gone rogue.
To no one's surprise, the kakushi were always the first to know of anything and everything.
Some of the most common gossip was about the slayers themselves, such as rumours and opinions about their age and attitude, or embarrassing things they did or said.
However, there was one rumour that circulated for a long time, one that every kakushi, new or old, knew. Rumours about the Miracle Selection.
The Miracle Selection became famous and even celebrated by some for being the only known Selection where every demon was slain. Some say it was a child with wild, peach-coloured hair who saved everyone in the Selection. The potential slayer took down one demon after another with ease. Others claim that the Selection was too easy, or that the participants' survival was entirely their own skills. The kakushi who had been present, however, knew better. The “miracle” was not divine, nor did it save everyone during or after the seven days. The kakushi themselves had witnessed how those same participants went out into the world, became arrogant and overconfident, and how that arrogance ultimately led to their demise.
Those who did live past their first few months as demon slayers didn’t rise too high in the ranks. Many performed pretty average and remained in the low to middle ranks for the rest of their…short careers. All but one of the Miracle Selection participants achieved something impressive or important.
The child wasn’t very eye-catching; he had long, unruly black hair and dull blue eyes, eyes that had clearly seen things no child should have. While it wasn’t uncommon for children to enter the corps, heck, a majority of new slayers were children. This one, however, caught many of the kakushi’s attention.
The boy carried himself with an air of grief-filled determination, but swung his sword with no self-regard. He was reckless, almost borderline suicidal.
The dull-eyed child never spoke. When he did, it was only a clipped word or two before moving on to his next assignment, never sparing anyone another glance. Some worried about the child, while others thought him another arrogant survivor and that his time would come soon, as had all those before him. His recklessness and workaholic tendencies didn’t help his odds of survival after all.
However, despite his recklessness, he was careful in his work. The boy was swift and precise, never making unnecessary movements or creating unnecessary messes. He was a river current with no intention of stopping, always adapting and never hesitating.
What really caught the kakushi’s attention, though, was how the child always prioritized protecting any victims or civilians caught up in a fight. The way he threw himself into work, taking on every assignment he could without rest, the way he fought to reach everyone he could; that wasn’t arrogance. No. It was something else. It was seen in the way he stood tall, but tried to make himself small enough to remain unnoticed, the way he flinched when someone got too close, the way he never looked up. All of this spoke of a darkness many were too hesitant to touch. So no one did.
By the time the child reached the rank of Hashira, all of the kakushi had their eyes on him. They now had a name to attach to the survivor of the Miracle Selection. His name was Tomioka Giyuu.
Not much had changed since he entered the Corps. His hair remained unruly, his stance was perfect but tense, and his eyes were sharp but dull. Tomioka’s tendency to overwork himself, however, only seemed to grow worse as he rose through the ranks.
Now, as a Hashira, Tomioka’s jobs have also increased in difficulty and duration. Some of the kakushi who had been assigned to some of his bigger assignments had reported how swiftly Tomioka had handled situations, never causing more damage than required and keeping casualties to a minimum. It certainly made cleaning up easier, but it also made some of the kakushi see the new Water Hashira in a new light.
This demon slayer wasn’t just some arrogant Miracle Selection freeloader. Watching him tend to demon victims with gentleness and assessing his surroundings with attentive eyes made him seem less robotic, less inhuman.
What really solidified their view of the young Hashira happened after the Water Estate was handed over to its new master.
The Water Estate was an old, well-cared-for home. As there has always been a Water Hashira, there has always been a master to care for the estate and tend to all its needs. It was a secluded estate, located deep in the denser part of the forest around the Master's Estate, with a small stream running right in front of the gate, giving it a magical, mysterious feeling. Out of all of the current Hashira’s estates, it might have been the biggest so far (before the Butterfly Estate had been built), with a beautiful garden and breathtaking scenery.
From what's been said, Tomioka had actually refused to take the estate for four months after finally accepting the Water Hashira title. Where he had stayed before that, no one knows.
Usually, each Hashira had a set number of kakushi who rotated in shifts to help tend their estates while they were on mission. This help ranged from cleaning and general maintenance to tending to any animals the Hashira took in. The Hashira, of course, decides how much assistance they may need, and can always request more or less as time goes on.
Tomioka, however, hadn’t requested assistance.
It wasn’t until a few months after Tomioka had accepted the estate that the Master had called some of the kakushi and personally tasked them with tending to the Water Estate and keeping an eye on the young Hashira who owned it.
“I ask that you all keep a close eye on Giyuu. My child is young, and every child needs someone in their corner, no matter how small the help may seem.”
The softness of the Master's voice was all the kakushi needed before taking on the job. The concern in the Master’s voice, however, set them all on edge. If the Master was worried, then certainly, something was wrong.
And there was something very wrong.
When the first rotation of the two groups that the kakushi had split into had arrived—right after the meeting with the Master—the Water Hashira was nowhere to be seen. There wasn’t any sign of anyone having lived in the estate since the previous Hashira had last slept there. The only signs of life were the insects in the surprisingly well-maintained garden.
Though every flower had seemed to be well cared for, the empty estate was of great concern.
After almost an hour of searching through the old Water Estate, the kakushi had only found an old, worn-down futon neatly folded in a closet, collecting dust. No food, cutlery or even firewood was anywhere to be found.
From their initial arrival, it was a week after that Tomioka returned to his estate. However, the kakushi weren’t sure how long the Water Hashira had been gone.
In that week before the Water Hashira’s arrival, the first rotation hadn’t known what to do. Aside from cleaning the collected dust, what else were they supposed to do? What could they do? They didn’t want to anger Tomioka for bringing in unwanted things or changing the estate in general. He was younger than them, yes, but he did out-rank them by a lot. But at the same time, the implication of the empty, unwanted estate left them all with stones of dread and sorrow weighing their hearts down.
So, they did the bare minimum and welcomed their stoic Water Hashira with firewood safely stored in the garden shed, the kitchen stocked with tea leaves and fresh food, dinner cooking over the fire, clean bedding stored beside the worn futon, and heated bathwater. And they were glad they had gotten all of that ready when they did, as the state of the newly returned Hashira was not for the faint of heart.
Tomioka’s uniform was torn and covered in blood and grime. Whose blood? They weren’t sure they wanted to know. His hair was down and tangled, and his pale skin was just as dirty as his clothes. But his eyes were what concerned them the most. His deep, blue eyes were clouded, seeing a world not their own.
It was likely that Tomioka wasn’t even aware he had made it back to his estate.
After a moment of hesitation, the kakushi got to work.
Two of them led the boy (because that's what he was, his rank be damned) off the bath while the others got to work preparing his room and finishing off dinner.
Getting Tomioka cleaned up was a struggle no one was prepared for. The young Hashira moved robotically, yet his steps were ghostly. It didn’t even sound like three people were walking down the hall.
Half lucid as the boy was, the second part of him registered where they were headed, stiffened, and froze at the washroom door, his breathing quickening. Tomioka's eyes were wide, his body trembling. Suddenly, his knees buckled, sending the two kakushi assisting him to fall with the boy. Calloused hands grabbed his own arms, and Tomioka’s nails began to rake down his arms, tearing at his sleeves and flesh.
The two kakushi weren’t sure what to do, torn between respecting the boy's boundaries and keeping the child from hurting himself further.
Not wanting to drag things out, the two made quick work of pulling Tomioka into the room and coaxing him to sit on the bath stool, still fully clothed. Gently, the two women pried Tomioka's hands from his arms. Only then, when they were sure the boy wouldn’t grab at his arms again, did they begin tending to his wounds.
As kakushi, the two women weren’t unfamiliar with the aftermath of a demon attack. Many of the kakushi had worked in field clean-up and emergency first aid for slayers of every rank. There was nothing that should have surprised them. They had seen it all, after all. A second of hesitation could lead to death. So, with steady hands, they immediately started on easy-access wounds without removing Tomioka’s clothes.
Both kakushi clenched their jaws as they cut away at Tomioka's torn uniform sleeves and wiped new and old blood from their superior arms, revealing a multitude of scars on the child's skin. Most were small, diagonal lines that climbed up the boy's forearms. Others were even smaller and curved. Finger-nail scars, the women noted, with knots in their stomachs. Thankfully, all of the scars were old and didn’t seem deep enough for stitches. Around Tomioka’s wrists were thicker, more jagged scars, like someone had bound his hands together tightly with no regard for his well-being. The kakushi couldn’t help but wonder how the child had endured such painful wounds.
After pulling the Hashira’s haori off and putting it to the side, the two women turned their attention to the boy's back and the bloody gashes torn into his uniform and flesh. The boy seemed smaller—younger—like this. The child's uniform definitely wasn’t tailored to his size; his haori alone made him seem broader than he truly was. Tomioka was practically swimming in his clothing. The bloody gashes, the blooming bruises and scars on such a slender back was the most morbid thing they had ever seen.
“Mr.Tomioka, we need to remove your shirt to treat the wounds on your back properly. We need to clean the open wounds before they become infected.”
Though his dark eyes were clouded, the two women knew he was listening. They knew the way the young slayer tensed was a warning, warning them to tread carefully the closer they got to the brewing storm.
His eyes, though dull, were like stormy waters, waves crashing against each other, threatening to drown anything and anyone that got too close. Whether it was the risk of infection or the lack of strength to escape, the kakushi watched as the storm within the child's eyes stilled, and his frame braced for whatever came next.
It wasn’t a verbal go-ahead, but it was enough for the women to get to work, wanting to make it quick for Tomioka’s sake.
The next big shock they went through wasn’t the scars that seemed to cover every part of the child sat before them, or how concerningly thin he was, but the wrap that seemed to bind their hashira's chest dangerously tight. The fabric seemed old, but still dug into the child's skin, putting too much pressure on the ribs.
Their hands hover for half a second before focusing back on the open wounds on the child's back. Everything else can wait until their Hashira isn’t actively bleeding out in front of them.
Swiftly, the kakushi cleaned and stitched up the trembling child, washed his hair as best they could and got the young swordsman into warm clothes.
Only once the reserved child had eaten a bit of the soup and was resting in his room, did the first rotation sit down and process everything that had happened not even two hours prior.
Slowly, pieces of the mystery that is Tomioka Giyuu created a disturbing picture.
As the rotation switched the next day, all of them had come to the same conclusion: they would take care of the child their Master had entrusted to them.
Tomioka had been wary of them at the beginning. He never said much, never complained or asked for anything. He was also very easily startled by the slightest creak of a floorboard or any sudden sound they made in general. All it took was one poorly hidden flinch for the kakushi to immediately start announcing their movements when the young Hashira was around. They all made sure to talk about plans and schedule changes where they were sure the child would hear. If their flight risk Water Hashira didn’t like surprises, then they would ensure there were no surprises.
As Tomioka grew accustomed to their presence, the kakushi began to see the young Water Hashira more often at the Water Estate. They saw how gentle the child was with the garden within the estate grounds. They saw how the young swordsman carried his kasugai crow like one would carry the most expensive treasures. It was all an extreme contrast to what the kakushi had assumed any survivor of the Miracle Selection would act like.
So, with determination, the kakushi began to work on the empty estate. With each new wound wrapped, every silent acknowledgement, every cup of tea poured after violent nightmares, the kakushi began to help fill the cold estate. They brought in a few kotatsu, new futons, soft, plain clothing, and other little knick-knacks they thought the child in their care would like. Nothing grand or expensive, but always thought out and handled with care.
In turn, they noticed a change in the Water Hashira.
It all started one morning, when they woke to the child dressed in a plain, soft blue yukata instead of the standard demon slayer uniform the kakushi always saw him wearing. Their young hashira was sweeping away fallen leaves in the garden. His grip was tight, but his eyes were present. Though still guarded, the storm within them had lessened, and Tomioka was here. And that alone eased the ache within the kakushi’s hearts. This child, no older than fifteen, was the most considerate, yet broken soul they had ever met, but they were all incredibly honoured to have earned their Hashira’s trust.
That morning in the garden was the Water Estate kakushi’s first step to getting to know Tomioka better.
One of the first things the kakushi learned was that Tomioka Giyuu was actually female. This was something the Master personally confirmed after an awkward conversation about how they should refer to their Hashira, since the child never corrected them. They didn’t want to offend her. This new information, however, they kept to themselves as it wasn’t theirs to share.
Another thing the Water Estate kakushi learned about their Hashira was her favourite dish, simmered salmon daikon. This was learned (observed) at the small, but unmistakable upturn of the girl's lips at the sight of the dish, instantly cheering her up after a rough night.
Something the kakushi had learned over time, but suspected for a long time, was how negatively Tomioka thought of herself.
It was the small habits many would dismiss that gave it away. Tomioka’s disregard for her injuries, her tendency to overwork herself and her refusal to buy herself anything that wasn’t necessary for survival.
Then there were smaller, more concerning details the kakushi began to see: the way Tomioka’s gaze would become darker and unfocused at the sight of expensive kimonos and jewelry, the way she would flinch at the scent of scented oils. All of that, paired with the scars they had found that first night, did not paint a pretty picture. It all left them disgusted at the thought of what Tomioka—a child—likely had to endure.
While there was nothing they could do about the past, the Water Estate kakushi could do something about the present.
In the present, they could buy her little trinkets or books that would catch her eye at markets. They could even bring her back small bags of sweets.
They could shut down any bad-mouthing that happened between the other kakushi that didn’t work at the Water Estate and lower-ranking slayers. The Water Estate Kakushi hated how common it was to find slayers who would whisper about how cold the blue-eyed Hashira was or about how stuck up he seemed. How someone could speak of a Hashira like that without getting to know them was revolting. Thankfully, a good smack and a scolding were enough to stop those whispered rumours from spreading farther.
It didn’t escape their notice the way their Hashira would tense slightly, or the way her ocean-deep eyes would grow distant while she made her presence smaller, less noticeable, when the rumours drifted too close.
They especially hated how it all got so much worse around the other Hashira. After every meeting, it wasn’t uncommon for Tomioka to isolate herself from even Water Estate kakushi. She would take any mission she could and disappear for a day or three before stumbling back home with new bruises and eyes darker than any kakushi had ever seen. Her eyes were too cold, too dark, and unreachable.
No one can say anything against the Hashria; they were the pillars of the organization, the Masters' most trusted. They were untouchable. And they were quite scary if the kakushi were being honest. However, they couldn’t just do nothing while their Hashira suffered in excruciating silence.
So, they continued to stand with the young Hashira, even as she grew. They stood with her, continued to care for her, never hesitating to wrap her every wound. Even as Tomioka’s frame filled out healthily, even as her strength increased, and she perfected her Water Breathing and polished off her eleventh form. They would always look for her during rainy nights and bail her out of uncomfortable conversations with stern faces and exaggerated excuses.
The kakushi had even created escape plans to get her out of the Butterfly Estate behind Kocho’s back and keep the doctor at bay. At the same time, Tomioka was led back to her own estate to recover in peace and comfort, away from the clinical environment where the Insect Hashira thrived.
Tomioka Giyuu had become more than just their superior, more than the Hashira the Master had entrusted them to care for. Tomioka was a child filled with guilt and self-doubt—a child forced to face the worst of humanity. She was a child who had fought demons and humans alike. This was a child the kakushi would make sure did more than survive under their care. The kakushi would ensure that Giyuu lived, even if it was for just a moment.