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Sometimes Giyu misses Kanae. They weren’t friends, merely colleagues, but she treated him with a gentleness he deeply appreciated. She never mocked him, not like the other Hashira. Not for his shaking hands, not for the excessive downtime he occasionally needed, not the long recovery from missions that took him far away. She never ridiculed or belittled him when he showed up on her doorsteps, trembling or bleeding or struggling with anything else. She spoke to him, defended him when the others got too rough or unkind. She made him feel safe no matter what. She treated him with care.
But now she’s dead, and in her place is her sister, who is straightforward and rude and doesn’t seem to care much for Giyu at all. In fact, when Giyu is able to gather the courage to consult her for assistance, she usually manages to prove instantaneously that he made the wrong decision. She is always quick to shame him for needing her help.
So when he comes back from his mission on Mount Kumotori, heart sluggish and fingers blue, he does not go to her. He goes straight back to his home, ordering Kanzaburo to tell Master Ubuyashiki that he will give his report on the mission tomorrow, he simply needs to rest first.
The Water Estate is cold and empty. There’s a futon on the floor and a kettle on the stove, nothing more. He does not want tea, and really he does not want to eat, though he knows he should.
Instead, he stumbles his way to sitting on the floor, leant against a wall. He tips his head back and shuts his eyes, breathing as deeply and slowly as he can.
His heart beats slowly in his chest, once every two seconds or so. Too slow, even for him. He can never remember what condition Kanae said he now had, as a result of the time he spent lost on Mount Sagiri in the snow. As it turns out, hypothermia as severe as his is not a one and done sort of thing, and it can cause problems down the line.
As for now, Giyu’s vision is blurring and it feels like there isn’t enough air. Kumotori was high and cold, and that cold had aggravated all the issues he was forced to deal with every time he encountered snow. He remembers that panic he’d felt, laying in that snow with no hope of survival, until Sabito came and rescued him. The way his breath had fogged in front of his face and his limbs refused to move. The way he could feel his heart struggling in his chest as the cold overtook it.
He remembers, even through his shoddy memory, because it’s the same feeling he’s suffering from now. There isn’t enough air in this room to sustain him, and his heart is struggling to circulate blood as it should. Kanae had told him all about it, outlined it very clearly for him, but he simply cannot remember. Not that it matters.
The edges of his eyes are graying and he can feel his hands trembling as he taps his chest. Kanzaburo was right, as he so often is, when he said they should take a break instead of pushing through to the estate. If he’d listened and sat to breathe, maybe he wouldn’t be on the verge of unconsciousness right now.
But he doesn’t care, because he will wake up in a matter of minutes, and he will go about his day as normal. Faulty heart, lungs, fingers, and brain be damned.
The Mountain with the spider demons wasn’t cold, but it’s still a long journey, and Giyu is still struggling by the end of it. He’s sure he will pass out soon, he just needs to make it through this damned meeting.
He positions himself off to the side, away from the group, where he would always be if the master allowed it. He insists on them being unified, and does not permit Giyu to ostracise himself.
But now, Giyu has, to their knowledge, committed treason, and he knows they will not want him there with them. He is more than fine like that, as it gives them less opportunity to notice that he’s about to faint. Not that he thinks they would.
Tanjiro is brought out, and Giyu wants to jump to his defense, wants to stop them from hurting him, but if he moves now he will go down and that would be highly inconvenient. So instead he barely listens as the Hashira berate the poor child. It isn’t until the Wind Hashira saunters up and stabs into Nezuko’s box, eliciting a whine, that Giyu finds his voice.
He shouts; “Stop this!”, allowing Tanjiro to strike Sanemi, then later yanks the Serpent Hashira off of Tanjiro’s back, but that is all he is able to manage, and by the time the meeting is closing, he finds himself falling forward into the gravel of the garden.
When Giyu wakes again he is in the Insect Estate, Kanae’s sister at his side, holding his wrist as she seems to take his pulse. His crow sits on the otherwise empty chair positioned at his other side.
“Ah, Tomioka, you’re awake,” she says through that permanent smile on her face. “You should’ve said something before losing consciousness.” He does not roll his eyes, instead staring at her as blankly as he can. “You know better than to continue pushing when you’re struggling to breathe.”
“Mm,” he answers. He does not want to be here and he does not want to hear all of the ways he messed up.
“The Kamado child was very concerned when you fell,” she tells him. “And rather touched at your pledge for his sister’s safety.” Giyu does not care. Or, he does not want to care. “The Master was concerned, too. His Hashira should be in top condition at all times to properly do their jobs and you neglecting a known cardiological issue is not going to keep you there.”
“I’m sure he was greatly disappointed,” Giyu grumbles. He just wants to leave. He is not dying, he is not injured, there’s no reason for him to stay here.
“Not so much,” Shinobu corrects. “He was simply concerned.”
“Right.” She sighs deeply, never losing that smile, and gestures for him to sit up.
“I can’t do much more for you,” Kocho says. “You’re free to go, I suppose. Stop straining yourself. We would all prefer it if you did not drop dead.”
“Mhm,” he hums. Kanzaburo hops to his shoulder immediately, nuzzling into the side of his neck. He gives no more acknowledgement to Kocho, taking his leave on swift feet.
His estate is as cold and empty as when he was last here. Sometimes he misses warmth and company, but every time he thinks of it he sees peach colored hair or eyes as blue as his own. Warmth only ever came from them.
He wonders what they would say about the neglect he shows himself, this empty house which he still refuses to accept as his. Would they be proud of his position as a Hashira? Proud of how hard he worked? Sad that he has no friends?
He sits cross legged on the floor and shuts his eyes. His heartbeat is slow, but not dangerously. He listens to it pounding in his ears, loud as he tunes out everything else. Kanzaburo sits in front of him on a little pillow, the one thing he doesn’t need but purchased anyway.
Perhaps, if there were anything else but his faulty heart in his chest, like perhaps one which functioned, he would heed Kocho’s orders. Unfortunately for her, there isn’t, and the idea of someday seeing his sister one more time is not so frightening as to make him care.