Chapter Text
The night was almost overwhelmingly cold, snow cascading down around Giyuu, the only thing that kept him from truly feeling it was the heat burning in his body from each relentless strike he made.
He was moving too much to allow his body a moment to feel the frigid temperatures, only working more and more and more until it felt like he was burning alive.
“Water breathing, First form. Water surface slash.” Giyuu muttered as she pressed down her feet, his arm arching outwards in a single diagonal strike. Stalks of bamboo crumpled to the ground in front of him, clean cut.
“Third form. Flowing dance.” He continued, adjusting his footing. He made strike after strike, stepping forward through the now shortened stalks of bamboo to cut down more and more, weaving and practically dancing through each step even as his body clawed at itself in a constant ache.
“Sixth form. Whirlpool.” She adjusted her grip just a tad, now using the momentum of the last attack to force himself into a rapid spin, the movement so quick he could barely see anything around him other than her katana outstretched in front of her and more bamboo being practically shredded into pieces.
Giyuu barely managed to stop himself before he ended up falling into the still standing bamboo, her head was spinning and he could barely see anymore. Each breath she took felt like it didn’t reach her, forcing him to heave for air while her lungs burned.
He’s doing too much, he knows this. She’s overwhelming herself to the point she might not even succeed in her trip back down to her estate without collapsing a few times.
The moon was high overhead—already on it’s way to begin lowering. It was roughly 4 am, if she had to guess. He’s been training for what, 5 hours by now? Giyuu knows it’s probably not good to go on that long, but she wont stop.
Knowing it’s going to suck later isn’t going to deter her.
Everything in Giyuu’s body was practically begging him to stop. Every inch of his body burned like his skin had been torn off and rubbed with salt and lemon.
But he can’t stop.
She can’t.
If she stops now, she’ll just prove to herself that she’s weak.
Too weak to be a Hashira. Too weak to be a demon slayer—too weak to be human.
Not like he ever was, anyways.
But it doesn’t matter. Even if he ends up passing out from exhaustion, he’ll keep going. All that matters is that she keeps training until she actually improves.
It doesn’t matter if it kills her, he’ll do it.
Giyuu won’t stop. He wont. She forces herself into a ready position, moving forward once again to swing his katana, slicing through 4 stalks of bamboo, not even giving himself the chance to watch them collapse to the ground before he moved on, cutting even more down in a wave of unrelenting strikes.
Her hands were starting to tremble, arms and legs straining from the hours of harsh movements, but he forced through it. He has to.
Each passing second was almost torturous. If someone saw Giyuu without knowing what happened, they might think she’d just been thrown around by a tiger.
His hands ached from how tight he forced her grip, katana beginning to wobble, she could barely take up a combat stance anymore.
Slowly, he staggered forward, struggling to raise her katana again. Breathing alone burned like hellfire entering her lungs.
Her vision started to become spotty and her body felt almost like it was made of cotton in a light breeze, like she might float away if the wind picks up too much.
Giyuu drives her katana into the ground, struggling to use it to keep herself on her feet. Still heaving for air, he forced himself to stumble back towards the middle of the training ground.
It’s all too much for her to handle.
It’s too much.
“Giyuu!” A familiar voice caught Giyuu’s attention—familiar, yet it almost made the fine hairs on her neck stand.
Slowly, Giyuu turned, the warding mask she was almost never seen without covering her expression. His expression, which almost tightened upon seeing the familiar face.
“Ay, you busy? I was thinking we could maybe go grab something to eat? Maybe just hang out in town? I could get you something.” Sanemi stood before her, his pace slowing as he padding closer.
Sanemi and Giyuu had been dating for roughly 6 months. They hadn’t exactly made it official, but they both kinda knew what it was.
Giyuu’s frame tightened just a tad, gloved hands pulling into loose fists. He will never truly understand why, but being around Sanemi, lately, has made her feel.. uneasy. Though he’d never ever admit that to anyone, especially not Sanemi.
Because truly, what reason was there for the way she reacted around him? Sure, he got upset sometimes when she didn’t wanna go out and do things, but that’s hardly something to be nervous about.
Giyuu knew her answer, and he could already clearly see Sanemi’s reaction to it. He really, really didn’t want to do anything right now. He wanted to go home and lay down and pretend to be dead until she was given another mission to attend.
But Sanemi won’t like that. Sanemi doesn’t understand why Giyuu is the way she is. She doesn’t expect him to, but he wished Sanemi would just accept he’s like this and be ok with it.
But he isn’t. He isn’t ok with it and Giyuu doesn’t know why. She wished she knew why it bothered him so much that Giyuu doesn’t like talking, that she doesn’t like physical touch, that she’d most often prefer being by herself than around people, even if it’s someone she loved dearly.
“..I’m.. sorry, Sanemi, not today. Maybe next week.” He already knew she had to brace herself for the reaction. She hated that she knew he wouldn’t be happy about the answer.
Sanemi’s expression visibly soured at her response, his hands clenching. “Are you serious, Giyuu? Are you fucking serious? You do this every time. When was the last time we spent time together? Well over a month ago!” He growled out, taking a few extra steps closer to Giyuu.
Giyuu remained still and stiff in place. Giyuu knows she deserves Sanemi’s frustration. He has every right to be upset with him. Why shouldn’t he?
“Sanemi..” Giyuu muttered. She doesn’t really know what she was planning on saying, maybe she was expecting to be interrupted before he even had the chance to say anything.
If that was it, she was right.
“Don’t you ‘Sanemi’ me! You know I’m right! EVERY time I try to make an effort to spend time with you, you brush me off like I don’t matter to you! You’ve been avoiding me like I’m diseased!” He took another few steps forward, now reaching for Giyuu’s arm.
She nearly flinched feeling Sanemi’s hand wrap around her forearm, tight enough to cause it to hurt just a tad. “…Sanemi..” she repeated, her voice quieting down instinctually.
“I don’t fucking care what excuses you have. I don’t know why I even fuckin’ bother with you anymore.” Sanemi’s grip tightened before it released.
“All we ever do is exist in the same room as each other when you actually do fuckin’ make the effort to spend time with each other! It’s like I don’t even fuckin’ matter to you!” In the moment, Giyuu wanted nothing more than to crawl into a deep hole, be buried, and suffocate to death.
Giyuu watches as Sanemi took a few steps back, eyes narrowed, expression scrunched in displeasure—hatred, even.
He deserves it, though.
Giyuu deserves that expression. That hatred.
This was going to happen eventually, after all. She knew that much. She just wished the veil—though thin—would’ve stayed in place just a little longer.
Maybe long enough for him to get his fucking life together and be normal.
But when has the world ever been on her side? It wasn’t when he lost Tsutako, nor Sabito, nor…
“Fuck you. Go rot in the ditch you belong in,” Sanemi hissed as he walked off, the slayer’s hands tight on his dual katanas’ handles.
Giyuu didn’t really know how to react, honestly. Is he supposed to cry? Is he supposed to pretend it didn’t happen? Does she go after him and beg him not to leave her—please don’t leave her, please don’t leave, she won’t survive on her own—
Or she can just.
Suck it up
That last option, probably. That’s what he always does.
Because what else is there to do? There is no other option than sucking it up, moving on, and mentally destroying herself over it every waking moment of her life, feeling the agony and guilt of believing herself incapable of truly loving. Of being loved.
But what does it matter? She deserves it.
It’s her fault. She could’ve been better.
Giyuu turned, she doesn’t know how long she’d been standing there, staring at nothing but empty air.
She could’ve pushed past her discomfort, she could’ve actually spent time with Sanemi like she should’ve, like he deserved.
Or maybe she wouldn’t have let herself get this close to him in the first place. Maybe she wouldn’t have wasted his time like she had.
She’s just a waste of everyone’s time.
The sun is already down, only the silvery light of the moon is bright enough to guide her along the old gravel pathway.
She really is just a massive waste of time, isn’t she? The other Hashira always make an effort to include her in their activities—Kyojuro and Uzui had invited her out to dinner a week ago, but she declined. She doesn’t even remember why, she can only remember hearing Uzui comment on how boring and unflashy she was, how he was surprised that Kyojuro could even have the patience to put up with her.
She doesn’t know how he did, either.
During his last doctors visit, Kocho had tried to convince him to go out to town with her and Kanroji for the day. He had said no—he doesn’t remember why he actually did, but she knows she’d made the excuse that she had a mission coming up, and she remembers the vague irritation in Kocho’s voice when she’d insinuated that he was lying to get out of having to be around people.
And, well, she was.
Honestly, just thinking about it makes her feel stupid. Why do those little comments matter to her? It’s just words. Words from people she.. she doesn’t care that much about. Right? She doesn’t care what they say. Their opinions on him don’t mean anything.
She feels stupid for how her chest burns, just thinking about it.
God. She really is fucking pathetic.
Giyuu heaved each breath he took, like oxygen simply refused to enter her lungs. The frigid air burned on its way down, and she can’t tell if the trembling in her hands is from the cold or exhaustion. He thinks she might collapse here and now.
Not even during her training with Urokodaki-sensei had her gasping for air like this, had her head spinning and aching so badly that she had to stop just so he wouldn’t pass out on the ground.
Now that she wasn’t moving as much anymore, the cold was starting to set in. Her entire body ached in a way that wasn’t just from the overexertion—it felt like her bones and joints were stiffening up, she couldn’t feel her hands, feet, or most of her face.
But it doesn’t matter. She has to—
She—
…
She felt rooted in place when a towering shadow enveloped her own. She could vaguely make out the shape of horns—two sticking straight up. Only when she noticed did she feel the presence so overwhelming that she swore she stopped breathing altogether.
“..Tomioka Giyuu.” A voice she’d never heard called her name, their tone deep, almost resembling the growl of a canid. “You fight.. elegantly.. despite exhausting yourself,” they continued.
She didn’t need to turn around and look to know what was behind her—surely it was a demon. An upper-rank demon that was going to kill her.
It’s over. She’s going to die. She’s going to die and she can’t even fight back—
Giyuu swung his sword back, dirt and snow kicking up from where she tore it out of the ground, but metal hit metal. The demon held a katana—clearly nichirin.
The force of the collision sent her back, and she barely managed to catch his feet on the ground, causing him to skid through the snow, legs trembling.
There he stood—the demon who somehow managed to find him.
Uppermoon 1.
He stood unreasonably tall—nearly twice her height. His frame was shrouded in darkness, the moonlight shining onto his back, making it nearly impossible to see his front.
But the one thing she could see was 6 golden glowing eyes and the kanji of his rank etched into the middle pair in place of his pupils.
She’s not going to see dawn. He just knows it.
With what little strength he still had, Giyuu darted forward, her katana braced in his hands, gripping so tight his knuckles paled. When she swung, her katana met metal once again.
She could see the demon was holding her attack with no issue, while her arms and katana trembles with the force she was using.
The demon shoved Giyuu back a second time, but he just..
Stood there. He stood there like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Like he saw putting effort in as unnecessary.
She can’t focus on trivial details right now. Giyuu sprinted again—her legs almost giving out on him as he did—and he leapt into the air in an attempt to land an attack, only to be not only blocked, but grabbed by the haori, her katana snatched out of his hands and tossed to the side.
She knew it.
She always knew it.
She’s going to die tonight.
But hey, at least she died in battle and not to her own hands. She might still be remembered as at least somewhat useful for at the very least trying to kill this demon. Even if she failed.
If she was remembered at all.
Giyuu braced himself. Braced himself for the inevitable spill of his own blood, of the agony of either the demon’s claws or teeth piercing skin, of maybe being thrown to the ground and stepped on.
But it never came
When he opened her eyes, her warding mask had been placed back over her face. She barely even realized that she hadn’t been wearing it.
Giyuu’s hands quickly came up to hold the mask in place—briefly brushing against the demon’s, which she only now noticed were furred, though unexpectedly soft.
He didn’t let himself think about it. Giyuu quickly tied the mask back on before being carefully placed back on her feet.
It was.. unexpected. So much so that she wobbled, barely able to hold herself. Or, maybe that was due to the adrenaline completely wearing off, her legs finally giving out on her.
But she didn’t fall. Not with two hands carefully but firmly holding onto her shoulders, before moving to more comfortably support her, holding her up by her under arms.
Everything was.. confusing. What’s even going on anymore? Was she already dead? Was she hallucinating? Was this all some fucked up nightmare she would soon wake up from?
She didn’t say a word as he stared up at the demon through the sights on his mask, and the demon looked right back at her with an uncomfortably still expression. One that she himself wore frequently.
“..you are.. much too exhausted to fight. I will not.. harm you.. Tomioka Giyuu. You must.. rest.” The demon insisted, slowly beginning to lower him to the ground where she then flopped to her knees like a limp rag doll, still only being held upright by the demon.
Slowly, Giyuu’s arms were lowered to his sides, one of the demon’s hands supporting her back, seemingly well aware that no support at all would just cause him to topple over.
The demon—uppermoon 1, was oddly.. gentle. His hands—with soft fur and paw-pads—careful with how they handled her, as if he were some delicate and expensive porcelain decoration.
The demon was also very close. His knees were pressed against Giyuu’s own, and he loomed over her even while kneeling.
And for some reason, she didn’t fear anymore.
Maybe it was just her accepting her fate, but she didn’t feel afraid of him anymore. If anything, she felt a weird warmth as he nearly cradled her in his arms.
Oh, he is cradling her. She hadn’t even noticed when the demon had gently pulled her closer, furred arms wrapping around her frame that almost looked small compared to him. His fur was warm—or perhaps she’s just developing hypothermia again.
Giyuu can barely think straight anymore, maybe it’s the cold that’ll end up killing her. Maybe it’ll finish what it’d started when he was 13.
“Rest, Tomioka Giyuu.” The demon’s voice sounded almost far away, or perhaps very close—he can’t tell anymore. She doesn’t notice her eyes closing, or her slumping further onto the demon, her arms limp at her sides.
She doesn’t remember getting back to her estate, now bundled in a warm cut-in-half kimono and tucked under plenty of blankets and being carefully fed hot chamomile tea.
She doesn’t remember slowly drifting off to sleep in the gentle hold of the very being that she was supposed to exterminate.
But she can worry about all of that tomorrow. For now, she’ll focus on letting herself rest. Just this once.
Just this once she can rest easy in this demon’s arms.