Chapter Text
Sanemi rarely had days off. Life as a demon slayer didn’t generally give someone the time to rest or relax, even more so for those of his ranking. It’d been almost a month since the last time he’d had free time outside of rest and returning from missions, yet today, he was free. Not a single thing for him to be doing. It was odd, to exist in his own thoughts. His thoughts bounced from topic to topic, training, the other Hashira, yet one topic kept repeating. Masachika. Over and over, his head repeated it. Quiet sunny days like these always reminded him of him, no matter what he did to avoid it. He had always heard him described as a sunny person, after all.
Yet, as they always did, the thoughts quickly turned sour. Thoughts of his kindness turned to vivid memories of his blood, of the limpness of his body, of how cold he’d turned as he held him. He couldn’t get it out of his head. The regret. In his best attempt to clear his mind, he left his estate. He walked along the forest, silently hoping to find a demon who’d wandered a little too close. Something to take out his frustrations on. A way to clear the memory, to make him feel more worthy of having been the one to make it that day.
* * *
Giyuu stared at his reflection in the water. At the golden buttons which were seen so clearly, revered by every demon slayer he knew of. The mark of a Hashira. Supposedly, anyway. Why did he have such buttons? He couldn’t deserve such a thing. He barely deserved a uniform as it was, but one of a Hashira? It felt like a costume. A lie he’d wear every day, one that filled his closet and his mind. He’d always hated days off. They were a waste, time he could be spending repenting, paying off his debts to the world, yet here he was sitting at the edge of a river doing nothing. Sitting and failing to protect people he wasn’t there to protect. Every moment he sat, he knew another person had likely fallen to a demon he could have slain. A demon he should be assigned to slay, yet according to Master Ubuyashiki, he needed to take his monthly day of rest.
His thoughts wonder as he looks up through the trees above him. It was a sunny day, at least. The silence around him slowly became deafening, nothing to cover his thoughts of peach hair and a patterned haori. In an attempt to cure the silence, he hums to himself. The humming, as it begins to block out the memories, turns to quiet mumbled singing.
On sunny days, I go out walking
I end up on a tree-lined street
I look up at the gaps of sunlight
I miss you more than anything
* * *
Sanemi’s peace and quiet is interrupted by the sound of quiet singing and rushing water. A river, he assumes, and a voice that’s… familiar. He approaches and spots a familiar half-and-half haori he always hates to see. Yet, the words he hears makes him stop and observe. Almost like his fellow Hashira had read his mind, he speaks his own thoughts aloud. Instead of picking a fight, as he would any other day, he sits on the riverside. The singing stops.
“Tomioka.” Sanemi greets with a tone of distaste.
“Shinazugawa.” Giyuu greets in return, sounding equally unenthused.
“I miss you more than anything?” Sanemi repeats his words back to him.
“...I don’t wish to speak of it.” Giyuu answers, after a pause.
They sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Sanemi’s curious. Of course he is, who wouldn’t be hearing ego-haver extraordinaire talking about missing someone? As far as he’s concerned, Tomioka’s never felt a thing in his life, especially not something as human as longing. Not something so familiar. So, eventually, Sanemi gives up on being polite and turns to Tomioka again.
“They’re dead, right?” He asks bluntly. The life of a demon slayer doesn’t tend to allow lasting relationships. Not without death deciding intervention is necessary. He's experienced it firsthand more than once.
“Excuse me?” Giyuu asks in return. There’s a slight mention of surprise on his face.
“The person you were singing about. They’re dead, right?” Sanemi repeats.
“...Yes. Why do you ask?” Giyuu takes an awkward pause before he answers. Like he’s uncomfortable admitting it aloud.
“Don’t know. Curious, I guess. Didn’t know you were capable of caring about people.”
“He was a friend,” Giyuu replies simply. “I’m capable of having friends.”
“Right. Sure you are, Mr. 'I’m so different from you all'. Just because your friend is dead or whatever doesn’t make you better than the rest of us.” Sanemi replies, his tone a mix of sarcastic and cruel.
“...I don’t think of you that way,” Giyuu says. He sounds… sad, almost. There’s even less to his voice than there usually is.
“Oh, yeah, I believe that. You just refuse to stand with all of us all the time for fun. You’re not the only person to lose people, you know. It doesn’t make you special.” When Giyuu stays silent, Sanemi continues. “You’re always so fucking dismissive, Tomioka. Can’t even be bothered to answer half the time, don’t give anyone the time of day, and say you don’t think you’re better than us? Here you are moping for some fucking reason while the rest of us are out working.”
“I’m not moping.” He responds quietly.
“That’s what you have a problem with? Not that your fucking attitude won’t let you talk to anyone? I don’t even know why I sat here. I have better things to be doing than sitting here with someone like you.” Sanemi says, with disgust in his voice. He stands and dusts off his haori.
“...Shinazugawa, I don’t believe I’m better than you.” Giyuu repeats.
“Oh, really? That’s fucking gold coming from you.” Sanemi says, turning back towards the forest.
“His name was Sabito,” Giyuu says, the words coming out of nowhere.
“What?” Sanemi asks, as he turns to face Tomioka again. He hadn’t expected a response, really, let alone something so off topic. Who the hell is Sabito?
“My friend. His name was Sabito.” Giyuu elaborates. He’s looking down into the water as he speaks, his voice devoid of any feeling. “He died to a demon in final selection.”
Sanemi didn’t know how to respond. He hasn’t expected Tomioka of all people to just dump something like that onto him. Maybe Iguro or Kochou, but not Tomioka. He stands there awkwardly, just staring at him. The only thing that gets out of his throat is “Oh”. After a moment, he sits back down.
“Maybe you all would have had a better time had you had a real water pillar work alongside you. Someone like him.” Giyuu continues. He sounds so objective, as though he’s describing the weather and not implying that he doesn’t deserve his position.
“A real water pillar? What are you, a demon?” Sanemi’s confused. He’s barely heard Tomioka talk, so hearing him say things like that about himself is… odd. Especially with him not having looked away from the water the whole time they’ve spoken. Like he’s trying to forget Sanemi’s even there.
“I don’t deserve a title like pillar.” Giyuu responds.
“What? What the fuck are you even talking about?”
“Shinazugawa.” Giyuu begins. “During final selection, you killed demons, correct?” Giyuu asks.
“Obviously. Fuck do you think I am, weak?” Sanemi answers him confidently.
“The first day of final selection, a demon injured me. Sabito intervened. I spent the rest of it in a daze, being cared for by another slayer. I didn’t kill a single demon. Sabito, on the other hand, cleared the mountain of every demon except one. Not a single other slayer died in selection that year.”
Sanemi stares at him. He’s seen Tomioka fight before and he’s incredibly skilled. To think of Tomioka not being able to slay a single demon is… disturbing. It's wrong. Yet Sanemi isn’t stupid. The way Tomioka talks is as though it makes him inferior. As though he’s lesser than.
“I don’t deserve the title of the water pillar, or the title of pillar at all. Can you even say I passed selection? What Hashira hasn’t passed the final selection?” Giyuu continues.
At that moment, Sanemi makes a decision. One he thinks he’ll regret, but he makes it anyway.
“I knew a slayer once. He killed lower rank one with me. His name’s Masachika.” Sanemi says. “Watched him bleed out in my arms after that. I probably would have died that day without him. Tomioka, that doesn’t make me not a Hashira. I still survived.” He elaborates.
Giyuu stares at him. Sanemi doesn’t know what to make of it. It's the first time he’s made eye contact since Sanemi first sat down. He decides to continue.
“I don’t fucking like you. You’re weird and have a stick so far up your ass I can see it in your skull. But I’m not stupid enough to say you don’t deserve your rank. How the fuck can you talk like that? Master Ubuyashiki gave you that title and you’re stepping all over it like some fucking idiot.”
“...Ah. I didn’t… think of that. Shinazugawa, thank you.” Giyuu says quietly.
“I’m gonna go. I got better things to do on my day off than be your damn buddy.” Sanemi says, as he gets up. “Don’t start talking like that again.” He warns, before heading back into the forest.
* * *
Giyuu sits at the riverside, listening as Sanemi’s steps get quieter and quieter. He’s right, he thinks to himself. He is disrespecting Master Ubuyashiki by not respecting his judgement. Yet, through most of that conversation, he’d barely paid attention to the responses he’d received, his thoughts having almost entirely blocked out the noise. Shinazugawa hated him. He was sure of it. Everyone who’d seen them interact knew that they hated each other. At least, that was how it appeared. Giyuu, however, was in the worst situation he could think of. The man who clearly hated him so much was much more than just that. He was the object of Giyuu’s affection. Because with his luck, how could Giyuu not be in love with not just a man, but a man who hated him?