Chapter Text
Sabito had just finished his morning practice when he realized how late it actually was, judging from the slow crawl of the sun as it peaked over the distant trees. It was a dreary morning, so deceptively gray that time had managed to slip his mind completely.
He changed into something that wasn't dripping with sweat and hurried to prepare breakfast before Giyū could beat him to it. In the past, he had tried Giyū's cooking exactly once and come to the conclusion that he would rather live.
The kitchen area was as he'd left it last night, always the first and last in front of a stove, and he inspected the neat rows of cups washed and set inside the proper cupboards. While the other slayers residing here assisted in chores around the estate as dictated by Sabito's rigorous code of conduct, it mainly fell on the cooks he hired to prepare food for everyone. They insisted on doing the same thing for him as well, often looking crestfallen upon his denial. He had grown up preparing meals with Urokodaki and found the routine to be the closest thing to mediation, and Giyū certainly had no complaints eating the food he made.
He was about done with the miso soup when he caught the faint shift in the air and turned around, just in time to catch Giyū's head poking in through the doorway.
"Good morning," he greeted him with a smile.
"Morning, Sabito. Is that salmon daikon?" he asked hopefully.
Sabito gave him a disapproving frown. "Not today. You need variety in your food."
"Oh."
"Don't sulk over something this trivial. Aren't you a man?"
Giyū knew better than to push, but as he passed by Sabito to get to his seat, Sabito caught a faint, sullen mumble: "A man without his salmon, more like."
With a snort, he focused back on the steaming pot. If Giyū had his way, he would eat nothing but his one favorite dish; and while Sabito enjoyed the way Giyū's face lit up at mealtime, he considered it childish to eat only a few selected ingredients all the time.
It took him a few more minutes to cook, and Giyū filled that time by fixing his clothes into their proper place, tied back his unruly hair, and managed to wipe the last vestige of sleep from his face. The moment Sabito brought out breakfast, it was to a fully functional Giyū, straight-backed and steely-eyed.
They sat eating next to the open sliding door that led to the empty courtyard. Everything lied still in unbroken silence. The morning sunlight poured over the barren branches, the snow thick still, and the sky was turning into a light lavender. Over the distance, Sabito could catch the footsteps of some slayers who had just returned from their patrol.
"How's the food?" he asked.
"It's good," Giyū replied. At Sabito's raised eyebrow, he dutifully wiped away the grains of rice stuck on the left side of his cheek.
"There's one piece of tofu left. Are you going to eat it?"
"No," Giyū said. "You eat it."
Sabito pulled the plate closer to his side and pulled its last content into his own bowl. He chewed it and watched Giyū's face as he made quick work of his vegetables. A stray light cut sharply across his face. In that line between the slight darkness of the room and the pale brightness of winter, his features looked even more finely honed and, Sabito noted absentmindedly, a little old-fashioned.
"Do you have a mission today?" Giyū asked, breaking him out of his musing.
"No. I'll be at Rengoku's." Noting Giyū's questioning look, he continued, "It's been a long time since we last sparred and it's only appropriate to train with everyone else equally. Kanroji insists I have tea with her in the afternoon, so there's that."
"That's a lot of time out. Why can't she come here instead?"
"I don't mind going to her estate," Sabito said blithely. "Iguro's most likely to be with her so I can spar with him too. Two birds, one stone."
Giyū considered his schedule for a moment, before nodding sharply. "Glad to have your approval," Sabito teased. "What about you? Any plans for the day?"
"Training," Giyū replied. "And—"
Kanzaburo picked that moment to sail into the room with them. "New mission for Tomioka Giyū. Depart for Mount Kumotori as soon as possible!"
"—and that," Giyū finished, draining his cup.
Being a Kinoe, Giyū went on more missions than Sabito. Pillars often needed to be on standby in case of significant emergencies, and to occupy that time, they tended to visit each other to spar, or give advices on how to properly train their juniors, or to have tea. Sabito saw no fault in this arrangement, as long as they all completed what needed to be done at the end of the day.
It didn't stop a small wave of worry in him to rise, watching Giyū's back as he walked out the front door.
"Be careful," Sabito told him. "Don't do anything reckless."
Giyū squinted at him, baffled. "When have I ever done something like that?"
A small crowd was gathering around when Sabito arrived at Rengoku's estate.
"Good morning," he greeted.
"And what a fine morning it is!" Rengoku boomed. "It seems we have an audience today. Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
Of his fellow Pillars, Sabito liked Rengoku the most. Outside of fighting, Rengoku talked earnestly about swords and martial arts, his eyes blazing clear. He seemed to always be on the edge of springing back to his feet and the intensity of his expressions would be stagy had it shown on anyone else. Even though their techniques were polar opposite, they were both offensive fighters, each strikes stronger than the last, ringing clear across the training ground.
The morning passed by in the blink of an eye as it often did when he faced a respectable opponent. Later, Rengoku insisted he stay for lunch and he saw no reason to decline. After a hearty meal filled to the brim with steaming rice and roasted pork, Sabito finally bid him farewell to head over to the Love Pillar Estate.
"You're here!" Kanroji exclaimed happily as she opened the gate. "Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable. Iguro-san's with us too!"
Sabito inclined his head and followed her until he saw Iguro, and together they made themselves comfortable on the veranda. Compared to his own estate, which was clean and orderly and tranquil, Kanroji's seemed like an enchanted garden. She'd planted some kinds of flowers that bloomed through winter, and they looked quiet eye-catching with the vivid colors while frost crystallized the edges of the leaves.
Iguro was sprawling on one of the many pink cushions, looking more relaxed than Sabito'd ever seen him, and when he caught Sabito's teasing smile he only muttered, "It's comfortable."
"Is it?" Kanroji asked worriedly. "I feel it's rather too cold."
"No complaints from me either," reassured Sabito. "It looks like the perfect place to curl up and eat snacks."
Iguro snorted. "I've never seen you commit to either of those activities."
"Oh, won't you do it?" Kanroji implored. "Shinazugawa-san visited us this morning and left me a fresh batch of ohagi!"
"No, thank you," Sabito declined gently. He'd rather sit properly, though he did entertain the occasional sprawl on his own veranda with Giyū. "Now, tell me something I don't know."
Which was his way of allowing Kanroji to tell him ceaselessly about her day. It had been the thing that finally thawed the icy barrier between him and Iguro, and while Iguro would sooner die than admit it, Sabito knew he was considered as a friend.
Friendship between them meant being aware of each other's lines and taking care not to cross them: he never denied Kanroji anything if he could help it, and in turn Iguro never spoke ill of Giyū in front of him. He couldn't control what Iguro said behind closed doors, however, but seeing as Giyū never cared and that there were certain compromises one had to make to ensure a relationship with another comrade work, he did his best not to mind.
"Sabito-san," Kanroji murmured in a rare lull. "Are you okay?"
Tucking his hands into the sleeves of his kimono, Sabito blinked at her in confusion. "I'm fine."
Iguro's eyes squinted into suspicious slits. "Not sure I'd like the reason for you looking like that."
"Like what?"
"Is it about Tomioka-san?" Kanroji asked, wringing her hands. "Forgive me for pointing it out, but you always seem more restless when he's away on a mission of his own."
Sabito gave her a faint smile. "Am I that obvious?" Giyū was the most important person in his life and he had never seen any legitimate reason to hide that fact from other Pillars. Of course, it also meant that they could easily spot what he didn't mean to reveal. "It's only natural. We never know what will happen in our line of work."
Iguro's face pinched like he had to actively swallow bile in his throat before grunting out an agonized: "Tomioka's too strong for a Kinoe. He's more than capable of handling his own business."
Giyū's rank was something of a touchy subject for Sabito, simply because he wanted Giyū to be a Pillar. They both were equal in strength and skill. Giyū even created his own form, yet Sabito had been appointed as the Water Pillar because he had met the requirement of killing fifty demons first. And while Sabito didn't doubt his own worthiness as a Pillar, he felt it would only be right to also promote Giyū as well.
But of course they couldn't just go and have two Water Pillars, because it would be unprecedented.
Sabito didn't care about what was and wasn't precedent nearly as much as he did about doing what was right. The only reason he hadn't brought this issue up with Master Oyakata was due to Giyū's perfect contentment with the current arrangement.
"I know that," he huffed, instead of voicing any of it out loud.
"Then you have nothing to lose sleep over."
That was rich, coming from Iguro, who worried obsessively over Kanroji even though she was a powerhouse. "This time, I…"
"This time?"
"I can't shake off this ominous feeling that something big will happen."
"That's awfully superstitious of you."
"Don't I know it."
Two days later, Sabito received an update from Giyū. Fresh out of his task on Mount Kumotori, Giyū would be heading straight to another village with Shinobu to investigate deaths caused by bears, allegedly. There was nothing wrong with the letter, the wording was clipped and to the point, the handwriting familiar and precise, yet that forboding feeling was back, curling tight around his chest.
He couldn't wait until Giyū came home.
Unfortunately, by the time Giyū returned, Sabito had to leave on a mission of his own.
Before he departed, he told the people in charge of cooking to make Giyū salmon daikon for two days only. Up until now, Giyū was still an intimidating presence to those within the estate, and it didn't really matter how much time Sabito spent reassuring everyone here, when Giyū's every words seemed to be designed to either make people give him a wide berth, or pressured them into giving him what he wanted.
Not that Giyū was ever aware of this, of course. His words might be short and clipped, his tone lacking a degree of warmth, but he had never cared about something so much that he resorted to inconveniencing others.
It was still a work in progress, and briefly, Sabito chuckled to himself as he thought of Shinobu's apparent interest in Giyū. That girl always liked a project.
Not for the first time, he wished Makomo was here. She could keep Giyū company and patiently explain to him what he should've said instead, but that was a hard feat to pull off for someone who had made Mount Sagiri her main base of operation. After the Final Selection, she couldn't bear to stray too far away from their old teacher.
"We're here," the man in front announce, and Sabito promptly stepped down from the cart and handed him the appropriate fare.
"Thank you," he said.
Then he walked the rest of the way. His destination was particularly far from his home, and although he'd made haste, it had still taken him a whole day to reach the appointed village, arriving at a wide open space where a fire had recently leveled three entire houses.
The ash blacked rafters and beams, an fallen tiles littered across the ground. All the buildings were made from wood, which meant that most fires were accidents, caused by innocent mistakes such as a cooking mishaps, but arson wasn't uncommon.
And while it was likely that a human could be responsible for this incident, it would take significant effort to start a fire this big in the middle of winter.
One look at the remains told Sabito he could not expect to find evidence. He would have to rely on witnesses' stories.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he called out to a nearby woman. "Did you see the fire start?"
The woman looked at his uniform, mistakenly thought he was the police, and said, "I didn't, but it should be fine now. They're catching the arsonist as we speak."
His brow furrowed. "What?"
Before she could answer, running footsteps sounded behind him. Sabito turned. A pack of farmers stormed past, and in the chokehold of a burly man's hand was the wrist of another man, who looked significantly younger and more distressed.
"Oh, Masao," the woman murmured by his side, her eyes sad. "Who could've thought?"
Masao managed to yank his hand away, but his feet slipped across the icy ground and it sent him sprawling about ten paces from Sabito. Instantly the pursuing farmers pounced upon him, voices raising.
"You miserable runt, how dare you!" one of them shouted.
Masao threw up his arms to shield his head from the oncoming blows, and Sabito decided enough was enough. He strode over to halt one of the attackers, then took advantage of their momentary surprise at his strength to insert himself between them and Masao.
"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded. "A bunch of you versus only one other person. Have you no shame as a man?"
One of the onlookers narrowed his eyes. "Who's asking?"
"My name is Sabito. I was sent to investigate the cause of the fire," Sabito introduced himself, which wasn't technically a lie. He had been sent, just not by any recognized body of government.
"He did this," the burly guy spat. "He set the fire. Killed ten people. Burned my daughter's arm."
"I didn't!" Masao protested, stumbling to his feet. His face was pale and his eyes were sorrowful. "I was pulling Sakura away from the fire. I would never hurt her."
"I never approve of you in—"
"It's your words against his," Sabito interrupted their shouting match smoothly, his firm voice rising across the commotion, refusing to be drowned out. "I have yet to see any concrete evidence, so I can't let you do what you want with him, and because it's not confirmed that he isn't the arsonist either, I will not let him out of my sight."
"You won't be able to find evidence," a woman lamented. "The fire was so big we couldn't find any… any corpses at all."
That sounded like the doing of demons.
"Be that as it may, I'll be the one to determine that. I ask only for your patience."
Under his stern gaze and his tone brooking no arguments, he watched the crowd broke and went back to their work.
He turned around to address Masao. "You, follow me."
"Y—yes, sir!"
"Fix your clothes," he added with a frown.
"Yes!"
When Sabito judged him to be decently dressed again, he led him into a diner. Masao looked too dazed to be of much help, and it was still the middle of the day anyway. Sabito could wait until Masao recovered enough to speak, and in the meantime, he could recharge his own energy again.
"A bowl of ramen, please."
"I'll have the house's special soba, thank you."
They ate in a stiff silence. Sabito waited until colors had returned to Masao's face to put down his chopsticks and began, "I hope you will cooperate with me on this."
Masao responded with a surprisingly strong vigor, "Yes! I don't want to keep walking around here and shamed for something I did not do."
Sabito nodded his approval. "It seems you were the only person to be present near the fire and thus saw the whole thing. What happened?"
The earlier bravado seeped out of Masao in a blink. "I—" He scratched his head. "You might think I'm insane."
"Try me."
"I—okay, look. I was walking Sakura home because her father's curfew was very strict, and I wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly, the houses near us just… exploded into fire! Sakura was so startled that she fainted and I managed to drag her out of the direct blast of heat in time, and I might be disoriented too, but I could've sworn I heard laughter."
Sabito frowned. "Laughter?"
"Amidst screaming," Masao added with a shudder. "There was a silhouette darting past the window and it… it had horns. I don't know, it looked like…"
"A demon."
"Yes!" Masao's eyes shone. "You believe me?"
Considering there had yet to be a reason not to, Sabito offered him a polite smile. "I do, given how the current evidence isn't stacked against you."
Masao slumped. "I'm glad." His lips wobbled a moment, but thankfully he wasn't tearing up. Just, regretful. "I hope Sakura's father allows me to see her again after this. I never wish to harm her. How could I?"
Sabito gave him another encouraging nod. "Even if he doesn't approve of you," he said, surprising himself a little for contributing his own opinion, "the thing that should matter most is how she feels about you."
"She still wants to see me," Masao supplied with a dopey grin on his face. "She's been trying to reason with her father."
"If you keep working tirelessly to prove yourself, even someone overprotective like him would accept you. The key here is resolve. Do you have it?"
"I do."
"Then there's nothing the two of you can't conquer."
Masao smiled gratefully at him. "Man, you're pretty great. Do you have a Sakura of your own?"
Sabito's mouth twitched as he reached for his tea. His life as a slayer didn't allow for something that sweet. "It's private," was his only answer.
Masao sputtered, but wisely dropped the subject.
The mission was completed without further trouble. Bidding Masao a goodbye, Sabito went on his way and made it home in two days.
The moon was a crescent today, and the whole estate was quiet. Figuring Giyū must be sleeping by now, he quietly walked to his own room and sat down by the low table. Sleep might elude him tonight. Might as well deal with the mission report before morning came.
Half an hour into his work, Sabito heard a rustle outside his door, followed by a soft, "Sabito."
"Come in," he called out, surprised that Giyū was still awake, and pleased all the same to see his friend again so soon.
Giyū slid the door aside and stepped in, a tray balancing on his hand. Sabito spotted a pot of tea and a plate of green mochi. "I didn't make these," Giyū reassured him.
Sabito rolled his eyes. "And I live to see another day."
"You're not funny." And it was clear as moonlight that Giyū was amused, even though his expression stayed the same.
A small frown worked its way across Sabito's brow at the absence of a smile on Giyū's face. Giyū was no longer the cheerful kid of Mount Sagiri, but he always had a smile for Sabito after a mission. Pressing him to say anything before he was ready was never effective, however, so Sabito firmed his mouth into a thin line and focused on his work, which was occasionally interrupted by him reaching for the tray Giyū'd brought in.
At last, the report was finished. Sighing in satisfaction at a job well done, Sabito leaned back slightly to examine it one more time, making sure everything was in order before he sent it to headquarters. The moment he put away his ink, Giyū spoke up, his soft voice startlingly loud in the silent night.
"Sabito."
"Hm?"
"I need to talk to you."
Sabito frowned up at the blankness on Giyū's face. It wasn't as though his friend was a particularly expressive man; however, with the added benefit of growing up alongside him, Sabito had come to recognize the minute difference on his feature. The one currently on his pale face had Sabito straighten in immediate alert.
"What's wrong?" he asked, carefully scanning the rigid body in front of him for injuries.
"Not here," Giyū elaborated quietly. "In the zashiki."
Now Sabito was way past alert and tumbling right into alarm.
Giyū, after he had managed to frighten Sabito—something very rare yet very explosive when achieved—nodded once and proceeded toward the main zashiki of the Water Pillar Estate.
This large formal tatami room was reserved for Corps businesses, namely the admission and expulsion of Water Breathing slayers, strategy meetings with another Pillar, and most importantly, official hearing. If Giyū wanted to have a conversation here instead of literally anywhere else, it meant he wanted to talk to Sabito as a Kinoe to a Pillar, not as close friends.
Giyū had never concerned himself with anything within the Corps except slaying demons. For the first time in years, Sabito couldn't tell what was on Giyū's mind, and it was worrying him immensely.
He settled on one side of the room, and Giyū on the other, five paces from him. At Sabito's gesture for him to proceed, Giyū straightened up.
"It's about my last mission."
Which made Sabito frown. "The one you just took with Kochō?"
"No. The one on Mount Kumotori." He paused, as though to gather his thoughts. Then, "The family on that mountain was already killed when I arrived. The only survivors are two elder siblings. The brother, Kamado Tanjirō, and Kamado Nezuko, who got turned into a demon."
"Alright."
"The brother went against me and tried to protect his sister."
A pang in his chest. Poor kids. "I hope he—"
"So I let them go."
"Why did you do it?" was uttered calmly.
A calm that quickly thinned after Giyū's explanation. The anger. The pity. The axe. The sudden flash of inspiration and awe. And then Giyū had asked Urokodaki to take them in. To make this Kamado boy a fellow slayer.
For a moment, he could only stare at Giyū.
He took a deep breath to center himself, trying to recite one of Urokodaki's many teachings.
Even using the same school of technique, there were certain forms that came more naturally to him, and there were ones that Giyū mastered quicker. "Like different aspects of water," their teacher had said. They were evenly matched overall, but their temperament was wildly different.
More often than not, Giyū resembled another form of water: ice. Cold in his calculations and unyielding in his approach. The technique he created for himself further exemplified his style, something as calm as dead water that could turn any offensive attacks into nothing.
For Sabito, he was a passionate person, and the raw strength in each of his strikes was as devastating and relentless as a coastal storm. That storm was roaring now, his rage so sudden and profound it temporarily blinded his senses. Ice, ice, be like ice, he reminded himself, twisting his hands into fists and smothered them against his thighs. Real men either sorted out their anger on the training ground or talked it out. Anything else… anything else was no way for a man to behave.
For his credit, Giyū provided nothing further. He tensely waited for Sabito to get himself under control, the line of his back rigid and his face dreadfully blank, and Sabito was almost grateful. He didn't know what he would do if Giyū tried to open his mouth right now.
The two of them didn't fight much. Their first big fight had started because Giyū had told him he wanted to die. The second one apparently started now because Giyū had gone ahead and decided to spare a demon.
It was so in-character for Giyū that he had the ridiculous urge to laugh, but he managed to swallow it back. When he trusted his voice enough, he pushed himself to ask, "Why tell me about it? Why here?"
"Because it's… it's you, so I…"
"Use your words properly, Giyū," he said, as evenly as he knew how.
Giyū rubbed the edge of his haori between his fingers. "I don't want to lie to you, and I don't want to put you in that position."
By confessing to Sabito in a room meant only for official hearing and nothing personal, Giyū wanted Sabito to approach this problem as a Pillar. He had spared Sabito from having to agonize between two paths: whether he should forsake the Corps rules or forsake his closest friend. Well, it wasn't as though Sabito wasn't conflicted now, but the detachment that came with their respective roles as Kinoe and Pillar certainly helped.
"I appreciate it," Sabito gritted out. "But what would you do if I report this to headquarters right now? Is your resolve really so weak that you would go back on your words to this Kamado boy and step aside when our fellow slayers come for his sister's head?"
Giyū's expression faltered, just a little. Just enough for those who knew him to catch. "If it were anyone else…" he swallowed, "but it's you, Sabito, so whatever you decide, I will follow."
Giyū might be resigned to whatever he decided, yes, but he certainly wasn't going to agree with it wholeheartedly. There was a note of stubbornness in his voice that made Sabito's fingers tenser, but he was trying to master his temper, not to lose it all over again.
When he couldn't come up with any response, he examined his white knuckles, then sounded out each word slowly, "Tomorrow, I'll go to Mount Sagiri." Giyū jolted in surprise. He continued, "I will see for myself if these two children are worthy enough for you to put both Urokodaki-sensei's and your life on the line. If they come up short, I will deal with them myself."
Nowhere could feel quite like home to Sabito like Mount Sagiri. It was supposed to be a mild winter but here the white flakes were as big as feathers, covering every surface of the ground. The barren trees were enormous sheeted ghosts, and the sun painted the edge of the horizon red.
Remembering the old days when he and Giyū would run past here in delight brought a smile to his face, but before long it dimmed as he remembered how stilted the silence between them had been for the last three days.
A Pillar couldn't just go anywhere they wanted without some proper preparations, and he had taken full advantage of it to avoid talking to Giyū beyond the bare necessities. "Good morning" and "Good night" were uttered, but aside from them, Sabito hadn't conversed much with Giyū and in turn Giyū had only drooped as time went on.
The sight tugged on Sabito's heart, who even though seemed rather cold did not derive any pleasure out of this. He kept his mouth firmly closed anyway for he knew if he let loose, he would just yell at Giyū. And in his mind, if a man couldn't say anything decent or reasonable, if he knew what he had to say would only hurt his friend, then he better shut up.
Just outside Urokodaki's house stood an open shed containing several bokken as well as garden tools. Sabito followed his own muscle memory into the narrow entry way, where he removed his shoes and donned a pair of guest slippers.
Before he could knock, Urokodaki opened the door.
His skin was old and wrinkled, but his body appeared as resilient as waves and, like the Buddha statue, quietly radiated a powerful aura.
"It's been a while. Thank you for allowing me to visit so suddenly." Sabito bowed deeply, then straightened with a grin. "How have you been?"
Urokodaki hummed. "Well enough," he replied. "I trust it is the same on your part as well?"
"More or less, sensei," he said, grinning wider.
"I'm no longer your sensei," Urokodaki pointed out bluntly. "You're a Pillar now. Come in. I'll put the kettle on."
As he knelt by the fire and waited for the kettle to boil, he asked, "Where is Makomo?"
"On a mission. She'll be back soon."
"Right." His eyes darted to the closed door on their right. "And the demon I'm currently sensing, is that Nezuko?"
With the mask still on, it was hard to decipher what Urokodaki was thinking, but Sabito liked to believe he'd gotten better at it over the years.
There was a sense of hesitation and surprise lingering on his posture, maybe.
"She's sleeping," Urokodaki replied, after a beat of silence.
"Well, could she wake up?"
"She's in a sort of hibernation, so, yes, you could try to wake her up. You wouldn't succeed, however."
"I figured. Where's your new student?"
"By the boulder. You know where it is." After a moment, he added, "You have already made up your mind on what to do with him, haven't you?"
Instead of answering, Sabito smiled mildly. He drained his cup then walked to the door. Outside, he paused for a moment in contemplation then made for the shed to carry a bokken with him.
It didn't take him more than a few minutes of leisurely walking before he found Tanjirō at the familiar clearing. With little effort, he jumped and perched on a nearby branch to observe the boy from above.
Where his hair curled slightly, it was tinted with red, but overall it was brown. With round bright eyes and a twinkling smile, he looked too boyish for Sabito's liking. This boy would not survive the Final Selection.
Tanjirō let out a frustrated yell, his hands trembling and blistered, and he looked two seconds away from kicking at the boulder. He then smacked his forehead against the stone surface instead, which was equally absurd.
Sabito sympathized with him, he really did. He couldn't count the number of times he had trained until his grip refused to firm, not to mention how much bigger Tanjirō's boulder was, but he found it hard to feel sorry for someone while they were practically whining. Giyū had never been a whiner. He had shed many tears over his sister and his guilt, but never over tasks that needed to be accomplished no matter what.
Deciding that he had about enough, he pushed himself to his feet, and with a small burst of air, landed on the boulder.
"Silence!" he barked.
Startled, Tanjirō jerked his head up.
"A man shouldn't whine. It's unseemly," he continued, slinging his bokken across his shoulders. "Are you a man or a little boy?"
He could feel the wave of his fury rose inside every nerves of his body. He didn't smother it. He dove into the swelling tides and moved his whole being with it. As the wave hit its climax, he sent its full force to his arms, into his bokken, and struck against Tanjirō's blade.
Tanjirō tumbled and fell ten paces away from him, his back smacking against a tree and sending the residue snow flying.
He eyed the boy's form critically, with the harsh, uneven hissing sound of his breathing and the small tremor along his arms. "You're slow, and weak, and immature," he commented. "At this rate, you'll never be a demon slayer."
Infuriatingly, Tanjirō only stared at him. "Where'd you come from?" he exclaimed.
Giyū had staked his own life on this.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, ignoring the question. "How long do you plan to have your ass stuck in the mud?"
"Wha—"
"Take a stance!" When Tanjirō stumbled to his feet, Sabito continued. "Now, attack!"
"But you have a wooden sword while I have a real one," he protested. "It's not fair!"
It was so ridiculous Sabito threw his head back and laughed.
"Rest your poor, soft heart," he grinned, knowing the scar was pulling his face taut. "You can never hurt me."
The wind reached dangerous speed and at last, Tanjirō looked appropriately serious. Sabito flexed his wrist idly, before closing in. Tanjirō might think Sabito was out for his head, but if that had really been the case, he would be unconscious by now. However, there was no need to tell the boy that. If he wanted to make it far, he needed to be smart. He needed to be observant and came to the correct conclusion.
The three hours of training wore Tanjirō to exhaustion. To Sabito, they barely felt like a warm-up, but he kept Tanjirō's physical condition in mind. He left bruises on Tanjirō's body and he pushed him slightly past his limit, never enough to actually break him. Too busy feinting, blocking and evading, Tanjirō hadn't realized they were no longer alone; Makomo, apparently already back from her mission, was perching on a nearby rock to watch. She was the only one to notice that Sabito was careful in his handling of Tanjirō.
With an upward strike, he knocked Tanjirō unconscious.
Glancing back at Makomo and gave her a greeting nod, he told her, "I leave the rest to you," then trekked back to Urokodaki's house.
Against the wooden backdrop of the house, Makomo cut a striking figure in her aqua kimono printed with cherry blossom flowers. Her body was small and lithe; from the neck up, she had an almost ethereal beauty, as though she was a mountain spirit. Her hands curled over the bowl, their daintiness not fooling Sabito in the slightest.
They exchanged letters often. Still, he had missed her.
Next to her and peering at him with a shining curiosity, was a newly bandaged Tanjirō.
"So you are Giyū-san's friend!" he said after Sabito had introduced himself. "Thank you for your earlier instruction!"
He wasn't being sarcastic or scornful, and Sabito suppressed a sigh. He could already tell that he would like this kid immensely, given time.
"I will try harder," Tanjirō promised upon seeing he hadn't said anything. "Makomo-san already told me to train until my dying breath!"
"That's right," Sabito finally spoke up. "I won't be here for long, so listen to her if you want to pass the Final Selection."
Makomo smiled gently. "How long will you stay?"
"Seven days."
She hummed, interested, like she knew something he didn't. That was often how Makomo sounded, so he didn't mind. Only humored her by giving her the last fish.
He turned to Tanjirō instead.
"Brace yourself. I won't go easy on you at all."
"Yes! I'll be in your care!"
It was going to be a long, interesting seven days.