Chapter Text
Snow swallowed the road long before Giyuu realized he had left it.
At first, he had only meant to run, to get away from the voices, from the hands grabbing at him, from the word liar echoing louder than his own thoughts. His breath came fast, uneven, burning his throat as he pushed forward. He didn’t look back. His relatives wanted to send him to a doctor. They said he had gone crazy.
He knows what he saw was true.The night before Tsutako~Nee san’s wedding. When his sister Tsutako told him to stay in the closet, he saw a terrible creature lurk in the shadows. He heard Tsutako’s agonising screams. He sat, trembling in the closet for the whole night. When he finally came out, Tsutako was dead. Blood drenched her clothes, it trickled down her mouth, it laced her hair, it covered the floor. Giyuu screamed.
Next thing he knew, he was blabbering to the villagers that he saw a demon kill his sister. Nobody believed him. His relatives wanted to send him to a mental hospital. They grabbed his hand and dragged him somewhere. When their grip on his hand loosened he ran away.
The village disappeared. The lantern light faded. Even the sound of people vanished. Only wind remained.
It howled across the open plains, sharp and merciless, tearing through his thin clothes as if they weren’t there at all. Snow clung to his hair, his lashes, his skin. Each step became heavier than the last.
Giyuu stumbled. He kept going. His legs didn’t feel like his anymore. His fingers had gone numb, stiff at his sides. He tried to clench them, but they barely moved. The cold wasn’t just outside, it had crept inside him, slow and quiet.
His breathing changed. Then his foot caught in the snow, and the ground rushed up to meet him. For a moment, he tried to push himself up. His arms trembled, weak and unresponsive. His body refused to listen.
So he stopped trying.
The cold didn’t hurt anymore.
Nine years later:
Giyuu was twenty one years old, a former water hashira. After the fall of Kibutsuji Muzan, the world was saved, but not restored. The demons were gone, yet something lingered in their absence. The kind of cold that seeps into the bones of those who survived.
He felt empty, disconnected and numb. But most of all. He felt cold.