Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was well into the fall season by the time the two of them had made the plan to visit Giyu’s old master. The leaves had turned from green to lush oranges and yellows that fell and littered around his estate. Giyu didnt mind as the colors seemed to breath more life into the property.

“You sure you can make it?” Sanemi asked, barely masking his worry.

“Of course, I need to do this.” Giyu paused, looking back at Sanemi. “If I get too tired I can always have someone big and strong carry me.”

Giyu turned away from Sanemi after he watched his violet eyes widen in surprise. He quickly took off in a small jog, laughing in time with his footfalls along the ground.

“Wha- hey!” Sanemi shouted as he ran to catch up with Giyu.

That’s how their trip started. Racing each other through the streets, causing heads to turn but Giyu couldn’t find it in him to care.

Giyu had made peace with the nerves that settled just below the surface. He could sense the tremors of his anxieties about visiting Urokodaki, especially with Sanemi. There was the other, underlying, more personal reason for the visit as well.

There was also the much lighter energizing excitement that filled him. He wanted to go on a trip with Sanemi, he wanted to spend more time outside of their own little world together.

The two of them had since settled next to eachother as they both made their way through town. There was little conversation between the two, simply enjoying walking next to eachother as they walked.

Giyu wanted to hold his hand, he wanted to reach out and touch what he’s gotten so accustomed to. He held himself back, settling for the occasional nudge or brush of fingers against eachothers.

Giyu could sense that Sanemi also wanted to avoid any prying eyes from others, given his gaze kept scanned those around them.

The simple monotony of their trip was reminiscent of his usual patrol, although much calmer and brighter with the sun shining above the two of them.

Before he knew it they were already past the streets of town and on the trails Giyu had come to memorize as a former slayer. The familiar sounds of the town around them had quieted down as they walked, being replaced by the faint buzzing of insects and birds singing overhead.

Rough warm fingers snaked their way between his own, intertwining snuggly together. Warmth bloomed in Giyu’s chest despite the chilled air that cooled his form.

“So, is there anything I should know before I meet your master?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” Sanemi shrugged, jostling their joined hands. “I know me and you haven’t always gotten along and I dont want that to be his only impression of me. I never really had to meet anyone's family before.”

“What? Are you nervous?” Giyu mused aloud, looking over at Sanemi.

What he wasn’t expecting was Sanemi turned away from his gaze, hiding his face behind his hand. Giyu laughed through his nose at the sight, slowing his pace to fully see the other.

Sanemi mumbled something incoherent, a faint dusting of pink lingers on the tips of his ears. If Giyu didn’t know any better he would have blamed it on the chill, but he was almost an expert at reading Sanemi’s body language. He was embarrassed, leaving Giyu to tease him.

“Oh I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” his voice laden with an amused lilt, his smile audible in his words.

The hand covering Sanemi’s mouth fell away to linger at his side, hand balled into a fist. He was still avoiding eye contact with Giyu. It was so rare to see Sanemi nervous or embarrassed about anything that Giyu was sure to savor it while it lasted.

‘Yeah, ok, I’m nervous.’ It almost blended into the sound of the wind rustling through the changing leaves around them, but Giyu would’ve been able to distiguish his voice from miles away.

A laugh pulled its way past Giyu’s lips. Light and airy, full of mirth and love. Reaching out his hand to grab Sanemi’s closed fist. Giyu pulled Sanemi toward him with little force, smiling as his arms hung as dead weight at his sides.

Sanemi still held his face away from Giyu. The flush of pink still stained his ears, now spreading to the tops of his cheekbones. Giyu would never forget the feeling of privilege he felt to see Sanemi in such a state, especially without a fight.

Gently, he reached his hand up to Sanemi’s jaw to turn his head to face him. Sanemi kept his gaze off to the side, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with Giyu. His skin felt heated against the flesh of his palm. It was so rare that Giyu got to see Sanemi shy or embarrassed. It struck something tender deep in his heart, feeling nothing but love for the other man.

Giyu brought himself closer towards Sanemi, hearing the slight hitch in his breath at the proximity. He planted a small kiss against Sanemi’s cheek, continuing to plant small kisses across the scars present on his cheekbone. Giyu continued until he felt Sanemi’s hands land gently against his sides to rest gently on his hips.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest as Sanemi turned to connect their lips in a kiss. Giyu could feel the smile splay on Sanemi’s lips before the hands on his hips pulled him flush against his chest.

Giyu pulled away from the kiss, still remaining pressed against Sanemi. His violet eyes finally met his gaze with their close proximity. Giyu gave him a small but reassuring smile.

“I promise you’ll be fine.”
….

They continued their journey until the sun settled low on the horizon.

Giyu knew that they wouldn’t have been able to make the trip

The familiar wisteria crest came into view, the purple flowers glowing faintly with the lights around the house. Something twinged deep in his subconscious at the sight of it, something nostalgic, something known. It had to have been years up until this point that either of them had had to stay in a house like this, as being appointed a Hashira came with its own form of independence.

As if Sanemi could sense what Giyu felt, even as if he felt it himself, he held his hand a little tighter. It served to soothe something within his subconscious as they both approached the building.

As they crossed the threshold to the courtyard the smell of wisteria flooded his senses with a comfort that he hadn’t felt since he was dismissed from the butterfly estate. It created a mix of the light airy fondness and the dull ache of grief, a bittersweet sense.

The doors marked with the wisteria crest opened to reveal a very short older women, who Giyu grimly wondered how it was that she was still alive.

That aside they were still greeted with a warm smile and a promise of a free stay, even though he and Sanemi tried to deny something so generous. She didnt mention anything about the corps, or about their injuries or fallen friends. Yet a sympathetic, almost pitying, undertone laced through their short interactions. They were fed, provided with robes and bedding, and left to rest for the remainder of the evening.

Only now did Giyu realize the aches that had formed in his muscles from the day of traveling. It still felt odd to visit such a place so reminiscent of his days in the corps, but it was certainly made easier with Sanemi with him. They both had changed into the light purple robes provided by the inn, the fabric slightly heavier to accommodate for the chill outside.

One futon lay untouched as the two of them lay side by side in the other. Giyu had curled around Sanemi, one leg slung over his waist with his arm across Sanemi’s chest. One of Sanemi’s hands traced small patterns against the bone of his knee, passive tender intimacy.

The other lights around their room had long been snuffed out, with theirs remaining lit. both were unaware if there were any other guests at the house, not that Giyu particularly cared. As far as he was concerned, the two of them still existed in their own little world amidst the murky darkness of the evening.

The low light casted gentle shadows along the panes of Sanemi’s face as their lips moved in tandem. It’d only been a days worth of time since they had been able to be close like this, and it was much too long in Giyu’s opinion. Finally being able to revel in the warmth of Sanemi’s embrace, doing wonders for his tired body.

Despite the exhaustion, Giyu manuevered his way to sit ontop of Sanemi’s lap. His robe no doubt splaying open, not that he particularly minded the cold, the warm hands that found their way to his thighs were enough to keep him warm.

“What are you up to?” Sanemi smiled playfully, eyebrow cocked up at Giyu.

“Oh? Am I not allowed to kiss you now?” Giyu challenged, purposefully attempting to get a rise out of the other.

“You know what I mean, especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Giyu was leaned over Sanemi, his lips ghosting against the others as he spoke. Finally pressing forward to join them in a kiss.

A huff of a laugh through his nose let Giyu know that he was succeeding at his own little game. Sanemi’s hands worked their way up his thighs, settling dangerously close to his hips. A flash of heat flooded through his body, deepening the kiss into something hungry.

He brought his hand to slowly drag down the column of Sanemi’s neck, splaying his fingers against his sternum. Giyu could feel the rapid heavy beating of Sanemi’s heart beneath his fingertips, spurring him on.

Giyu could feel his own flush against his own skin, hear the hammering of his own heartbeat in his ears, his own breath felt heavy in his chest. The scarred hands gripped tightly against the meat of his thighs, eliciting a gasp from his lips.

Fingers rubbing circles dangerously against the soft skin of his inner thigh. He had to stop himself from writhing against the touch, he wasn’t done teasing Sanemi yet.

Giyu pulled away to admire the mess he made of Sanemi. The other males lips were pink and shiny, parted to allow his lungs to heave in more oxygen, his eyes were hazy and half lidded. His hair was mussed and splayed out on the pillow underneath him, his skin was stained with a pink flush that spread down to Giyu’s palm.

He’d be lying if he wasn’t feeling equally effected, surely not looking any more put together than Sanemi. Giyu could feel heat boiling deep in his core, something aching and heated.

Giyu leaned forward once again. This time to kiss along the scarring on Sanemi’s cheekbone, quickly becoming one of Giyu’s favorite features to treat with gentle infatuation. Crouching over Sanemi to kiss his way down to his jaw and throat. Each contact of Giyu’s lips earned him gasps and whines from the normally stoic man.

Sanemi’s hands flew up to Giyu’s back, gripping slightly at the fabric between his shoulders. His hands were shakey, his grip faltering with each kiss and nip from Giyu.

Experimentally Giyu rocked his hips downward, feeling Sanemi hard underneath him.

All of a sudden Giyu found himself on his back with Sanemi looming over him. The latter of the two having flipped their positions. Sanemi was now situated between Giyu’s thighs, one hand propped himself up and the other held tightly to Giyu’s wrist to hold him in place.

His eyes were wild as they met his own. Giyu felt equally as breathless either from arousal or surprise at the change in position. Still he smiled, delighted at the reaction he was able to pull from the other man.

Sanemi leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. Giyu was somewhat disappointed at that, but being pinned under Sanemi was more than enough.

“The walls are way too thin here,” Sanemi’s voice was hushed and raw, “and I’m sure you know that.”

“You’re no fun.” Giyu quietly laughed. “But, I guess you’re right.”

“Only sometimes.” Sanemi leaned down to plant a quick kiss to Giyu’s cheek, before one more against his lips. Settling down next to Giyu back into the now familiar tangle of limbs before drifting off to sleep.

….

The two of them woke up, taking the time to get themselves together with only a few stolen kisses interrupting their progress. Giving thanks to the innkeeper, she happily sent them on their way not before thanking them again for ‘everything they’ve done’. Neither party commented about her lack of mention at the corps, knowing that she’d housed dozens of corps members under every circumstance to last her at least several lifetimes.

As they traveled further, something antsy began to stir in Giyu, a swirling anxiety that bubbled deep beneath the surface. He was excited to see his Master again, but the added layer of introducing the person he loved to his parental figure was something new.

At least he knew it was the same for Sanemi.

They made their way, side by side, up the familiar dirt path from his youth. Each footstep felt heavier than the next, as if memories were somehow weighing him down. He continued on.

The distant rushing and crashing of an all too familiar waterfall provided a comfortable background paired with the ambient sounds of nature on the mountain. Sanemi squeezed his hand tighter, only then did Giyu realise that he had slowed down and fell behind the other man.

He shot him a quick smile before matching his pace with Sanemi’s once again. It might not’ve been enough to dissuade any anxiety that swirled inside him, but it seemed to ease Sanemi a bit.

The air began to feel too nostalgic, too familiar. There was something unnerving about returning, something drenched in nostalgia and bygone naivety of his youth. He had to hold himself back from pointing out certain sites and scenes with attached memories from his youth.

Giyu was almost to wrapped up to see how close they were getting, until a cabin came into view. When he spotted it, it was nothing more than a small box on the horizon but it was enough to almost strike him still.

He could feel tears threatening to spill out of the corners of his eyes. He thought he’d be ready to see everything again, to see his master, to be in the place that meant to much to him. All of a sudden things had just felt too much too fast.

What would his master say? Would he like Sanemi? Is he upset that he didn’t come to visit sooner?

”You’re ok,” Sanemi whispered, rubbing his thumb along Giyu’s knuckles pulling him out of his nervous spiral, “you’re gonna be fine.”

Giyu nodded, deftly keeping pace beside Sanemi. He did his best to focus on the underlying excitement that stitched his anxiety together.

He was excited to see his master again, he was excited to share this piece of his history with Sanemi, and that was something to cling to amidst the anxiety.

As they got closer, everything became clearer as it came into view. The wood was older now, showing signs of wear and sun bleaching that it had been lacking before. Even from their distance, Giyu could see the door slide open.

There he was.

His master, clad in the same blue kimono with the red tengu mask.

Almost unconsciously Giyu found himself picking up his pace, he hadn’t realised Sanemi dropped his hand as he broke out into a full sprint. He ignored his bodies protest after walking for the better half of two days. Tears were already making their way to pool in the edges of his vision, tunneling it on the man before him.

Urokodaki’s arms opened just a bit as Giyu all but through himself at him. He heard the quiet ‘oof’ as his masters arms wrapped around him, the hard wood of his mask pressing into his shoulder. Giyu felt a tug in his heart at the overwhelming comfort of that familiarity.

A small wave of nostalgia washed over him, remembering the day back at the butterfly mansion, the day everything ended.

“It’s good to see you, my boy.” Although his emotions were hidden by the mask, Giyu heard the vast amount of care that laced through his tone.

Giyu pulled away to wipe at his eyes, still catching his breath from running and crying. He felt like he was finally home, something he had only just come to replicate on his own with Sanemi. Now he was able to share that feeling with the man he loved in the place he felt it most.

Giyu looked over his shoulder signaling to Sanemi that he could catch up. He smiled at the fact that Sanemi was considerate enough to allow Giyu his own time for his own greeting.

He watched as Sanemi approached the two of them. It was clear that there was a facade of courage, or at least it was clear to Giyu. Sanemi bowed his head, something he hadn’t seen in a while from Sanemi.

“It’s a privilege to meet you.” Sanemi’s voice sounded strained. Giyu almost chuckled seeing him behave so nervously.

Urokodaki placed his hand against Sanemi’s shoulder, goading him to stand up straight. His face remained forever unreadable behind the mask.

“You as well.” His tone was stern, but sincere all the same. “You’re welcome to come inside.”

Giyu smiled at Sanemi, a silent way of telling him that it was going well. He knew firsthand that Urokodaki was a hard read, having spent years of his life with him.

Entering the cabin was cathartic to say the least. The same place that caused him so much anguish for so long, the place where he grew into who he was, where his family was. A fire was lit casting a warm glow along the walls. The two of them set their belongings down, mindful not to get any dirt on the floors.

Before Giyu could speak, he was interrupted with a raised hand from Urokodaki.

“I know there’s another reason why you're here.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, it was understanding. Giyu wasn’t surprised in the slightest, being used to his masters ability to read him like an open book. “Go, I’m not going anywhere. Besides I’m sure he’s just as eager to see you again.”

All Giyu could do was nod, forever grateful that his master understood him. Sanemi shot him a puzzled look, clearly unsure of what exactly was going on. Giyu only smiled and grabbed his hand. Making sure to shut the door properly before setting off on a path he hadn’t traveled in a long time.

“What did he mean by that?” Sanemi asked, keeping pace with Giyu.

The path took them behind the cabin and up a ways away from the well trod road. Even if it had been a while since he’d taken it, Giyu was sure that he could make the journey blindfolded.

“I wanted to take you here to meet my master, yes,” Giyu kept his eyes forward, “but I needed to do something, see someone, with you. It’ll make me sound crazy but Sabito told me to come visit him with you.”

“Oh.” Sanemi remained silent for a few moments. Giyu could only hear the dirt under their feet and the blood screaming in his ears. “Well, I’m honored you brought me with you.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He didn’t think that Sanemi would reject the idea, but hearing him say it was relieving. He knew it was a bit of an odd request to ask of Sanemi, but Sabito did tell him to bring him the next time he visited.

His footfalls slowed, Sanemi’s followed suit. He could feel himself tense at the sight before them.

The headstone stood amidst a small clearing, twelve other’s stood around it. Giyu never enjoyed visiting this place, seeing the memorials for the fallen students before him was always difficult. It was a pale grey stone, the characters carefully carved into the front. Even as Giyu stood in front of it, he felt as if it were missing something. There was no character about it, instead it stood still and stoic.

He knew the grave was empty, he knew that this wasn’t where Sabito’s body lay. His friend’s remains will forever rest on the mountain guarded, contained, within the wisteria.

Giyu bows his head, takes a deep breath as if to speak but couldn’t find the words out loud.

Im here Sabito, its nice to see you again. It seems like we were just running up and down this mountain, but this time I’ve made it just as you left.

I brought Sanemi, I figured you'd wanna at least see him after everything that’s happened. I promise I wont lose him.

I hope wherever you are, your’re peaceful, fulfilled, and you feel all the love that is still here for you.

Giyu stood. Reaching for Sanemi’s hand. He felt as though he was doing something right by bringing Sanemi here with him, even if it was only a semblance of a meeting.

“Thank you for coming here with me, Sanemi.”

“Of course.” Sanemi kissed his temple, remaining close to Giyu. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Whenever I go, if I go before you, I’d like something like this.” Neither of them had directly spoken about what either of them wanted to be done with their remains. They spoke about the limited time they had left, but never anything solid. It felt like something daunting, like the first time he had to climb this very mountain on his own, but with Sanemi it was easier to confront it.

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.” The hold on his hand only grew tighter.
_______

Giyu and Sanemi helped make dinner that night, mostly Sanemi given Giyu could only do so much. Urokodaki still made sure to have a task for him to help him feel included. He smiled as he watched Sanemi interact with Urokodaki, there was a certain easy domesticity that Giyu had started to enjoy with the other. Giyu sorrily remembered that Sanemi had grew up without a father figure, even when his father was present.That was something underlying that no one in the room wanted to discuss, but remained a whisper in the back of his mind making a simple moment like this all the more important.

He tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the sight of his masters older appearance as he ate. Even if he could only ever see the lower half of the face from under the mask, he looked much older than before. There were more wrinkles around the sides of his mouth, even his mask appeared more worn from the last time Giyu had seen him.

Although this time he wasn’t drowning in the endless wellspring of his misery, instead it felt as though he was finally seeing him how he did when he was a kid. When he and Sabito were boys he was already much older.

An age that neither him, nor Sanemi would ever see.

Urokodai hadn’t asked about their visit to Sabito’s grave. It was already a rarity for him to discuss the other boy.

Afterall it was his master that stayed with him after that final selection. It was his master that kept him fed, clothed, and cared for before he had taken residence in the corps. He was the first witness to Giyu’s grief, the first one to see it in its all consuming force. He was the one who persisted with him despite seeing him at his lowest, a bond that could never be tarnished.

Giyu had shifted closer and closer to Sanemi throughout the meal. Urokodaki hadn’t said anything about the way Giyu sat just close enough to justify to occasional brushing of hands or the bumping of their knees. Even more impossible to tell by any facial expression he wore was obscured by the ever present tengu mask.

“Giyu told me that you’ve been living with him.” Urokodaki’s voice was level, not accusatory or upset as Sanemi had originally feared.

“Ah yeah, for a while now.” Sanemi sat up a bit straighter.

“How’d that start?”

“Well after…everything. I found it impossible to stop thinking about him, how he was doing with everything, if he really was ok. Not that I think he can’t handle himself!” Sanemi interrupted himself, not wanting to sound like he saw him as weak.

Giyu coudln’t help but chuckle at Sanemi’s reaction, it was always a bit humorous to see Sanemi trip over his words.

“When I got to him, sorry to say this, but he very obviously wasn’t doing well. I just couldn’t leave him like that, I would’nt have been able to live with myself if I knew that I willingly turned my back to him. So I stayed longer, and one day he asked me to stay indefinitely. I guess indefinitely really meant permanently but I’m not complaining.”

Silently Urokodaki shot a glance at Giyu, his head shifting slightly away from where Sanemi was sat.Giyu nodded affirming that what Sanemi said was the truth, without all the smaller details about how they came to where they were today, but that was alright. He nodded in return before facing Sanemi once again, this time pointing a finger at the two of them.

“Am I wrong to assume that you to are involved now?”

Giyu froze in place. A ice cold feeling rushed through his body. Of course that had to be the one thing he had neglected to tell his master about. Even if it were true that Urokodaki had figured it out on his own, Giyu was still unsure of what exactly his reaction was. Despite the familial nature of their relationship, they never had a very serious discussion about relationships or anything regarding attraction.

At this point it wasn’t a matter of shame or fear at being caught with another man. Instead there was something very juvenile, a need to receive approval over who Giyu chose to be with.

“Yes, we are together.” Giyu gently placed his hand over Sanemi’s, hoping to soothe some of the nerves. “Sorry I didnt tell you before.”

“Alright.” Urokodaki took a deep breath, muffled by his mask. “You sure know how to pick’em.”

Giyu felt his face flush at the comment. Sure he knew that both Sanemi and Shinazugawa were similar, even down to a facial scar, but for the only living person that remembers Sabito as a comparison so say it felt extremely humbling.

He could practically feel Sanemi’s eyes on him, desperate for any explanation about what that comment meant. To Sanmei it must appear that Urokodaki wasn’t approving of the two of the, but Giyu knew that wasn’t true.

Giyu cleared his throat before speaking.

“You two are just, very similar.” Giyu felt a little embarrassed as he spoke that reality aloud. Suddenly growing afraid that Sanemi might think that was the only reason that he had originally gotten together with him.

“I guess that means I’m just your type then huh?” Sanemi flipped his hand over to lace fingers with Giyu, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

“I hate to interrupt the two of you but I’m off to retire for the night, but dont let me stop you.” That was essentially Urokodaki’s way of kicking the two of them out for the night, or until it was time for them to sleep.

Giyu nodded, Sanemi looked confused at the amount of unspoken dialogue between the two of them. Both of them stood, wishing Urokodaki a good evening before making their way outside. The two of them so wrapped up in the small whirlwind of emotions from their conversation that they didn’t notice the almost silent footsteps behind them. It wasn’t until Giyu felt a firm hand against his shoulder that he was jolted back into the cabin.

“I would like to have … a word, with Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi’s hand stiffened in his grasp. Giyu knew better than to argue with that tone, being only reserved for when someone serious was being discussed. He met Sanemi’s wide eyes with a small shrug, truly not knowing what it was that his master wanted to speak to him about.

He dropped Sanemi’s hand, bowing before making his way outside alone
….

It was dark out, the night casting an inky black coating over the mountain. Not that Giyu needed light to know his way around. Having spent countless hours running through the woods, jumping over traps, or climbing things he probably shouldnt have.

It was only a moment before Sanemi joined him outside. He didn’t appear to be very shaken up or upset. Instead sitting down next to Giyu.

“What did he say?” Giyu was admittedly very curious, he’d never brought someone home to warrant that type of reaction from his master before.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sanemi slinks an arm around Giyu’s shoulders before kissing him on his temple.

With the initial introduction out of the way, Giyu felt much more at ease. There was no more anxiety shaking through him, instead an eagerness to share the full extent of the place that meant so much to him with Sanemi.

Thats when Giyu got an idea. They were far too close to the cabin for much privacy, not that he was planning on doing anything particularly private. There was just still so much that Giyu wanted to show Sanemi in so little time.

He abruptly stood, turning to offer Sanemi his hand. It only took a moment for Sanemi to grab hold, allowing himself to be pulled up by Giyu. Sanemi didn’t ask where they were going or what they were doing, showing Giyu just how much trust he had in him.

Sanemi’s hand settled around Giyu’s opposite hip, a grounding but not overwhelming hold against him. It was somewhat unspoken for them to keep any display of affection to themselves when in the presence of Urokodaki, but now that everything was out in the open the two of them fell back into their usual push and pull against eachother.

About halfway up the path on the mountainside, Giyu dipped off to the side. Happy to have remembered the way to get to the path from his childhood. Sanemi had switched to holding Giyu’s hand as he trailed closely behind. By the dim light of the moon, Giyu manuevered their way between trees and roots that he had long since etched into his memory.

About halfway through their walk, a wave of mischievous intent flooded through Giyu. He was excited to show Sanemi where he was taking him, excited just to have him there with him. Suddenly he broke out into a sprint, earning him a bark of a retort from Sanemi.

The two of them were racing through trees, leaved crunching and shifting under their feet, jumping over rocks and dodging the occasional wayward branch. Giyu had the upper hand having grown up here, but Sanemi remained close behind nevertheless.

Laughter rung out between them, mingling with the chirping of crickets or the chittering of wildlife before being scared off by the two of them. Despite to much having changed in his life, he was taken right back to being a kid once again. Back to when he was just finding his footing with his body, first growing accustomed to using breathing, back to when he was just coming into his own. The cool chill of the night was quickly drawn away with the warmth that fueled him onward.

Giyu had to admit that he was playing dirty, already having the upperhand but also choosing to take the longer, more complicated path. Or maybe he just wanted this moment to last a little bit longer than it would.

With the sounds of rushing water coming into focus, he slowed just a bit. Only then did Sanemi grab hold of his sleeve, finally catching him. He tugged Giyu backward and turned him to face himself. Both their breath coming out heavy as they made eye contact. The image of Sanemi illuminated by the deep blue moonlight smiling breathlessly was an image that Giyu would hold onto for as long as he lived.

Giyu allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss. It was messy and rushed, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling into it. Sanemi pulled away first, a bit more out of breath than Giyu.

“So where’d you take me?” Sanemi asked, his tone was just as playful as their trip.

“The secret spot.” Giyu answered before pulling Sanemi along. “I guess it’s not much of a secret anymore, but it was when I was a kid.”

The two of them walked up a small riverbed, mainly comprised of smoothed stones that clashed with the rich earth alongside it. A waterfall rushed ahead of them, just far enough to create a dull drone in the quiet of the mountain. The air was cooled by the mist kicked up by the water, making everything feel damp.

He brought them over to a large fallen tree, surprisingly still intact after all this time. The makeshift bench was marred with various cuts and indents from a training blade. Giyu ran his hand along it’s surface in some form of reverence for the past before sitting. Sanemi followed suit, his arm finding its way against Giyu’s back once again.

They stay in silence for a moment, Giyu leaning into Sanemi for comfort.

“We used to come here a lot, me and Sabito.” Giyu scanned the opposite riverbank, silently hoping for a sign of something. His hand found it’s way to the scarred wood underneath him. “Whenever training felt like too much, we’d sit out here for hours. I’m sure my master knew where we were, but it still felt like our own little secret.”

Sanemi’s hand pulled Giyu a little closer as he finished speaking. Giyu had never shared this with anyone before. Sure his master knew about this spot, but never asked Giyu to speak on it. However, it was different with Sanemi, he wanted to share this piece of his past with him, he wanted to talk about it. That simple fact was enough to soothe any stray turmoil under his surface.

“What was he like?” Sanemi’s question came as a surprise to Giyu, which definitely showed on his face. “He’s important to you, and I’d like to know more about him. If you’ll indulge me.”

Before this trip Giyu would’ve been nervous to speak about someone who meant to much to him in the past to the person who he loved now. However, it felt different now. Sanemi had made the effort to take the trip with him to visit a place with sentimental meaning to Giyu, to meet the person who was essentially his father, and to pay respects to someone who he had never met. On top of all of that, Sanemi had asked Giyu to talk about him.

Giyu gave Sanemi a quick kiss, a little way to show his appreciation before speaking.

“Sabito was incredibly talented. Part of our training was scaling this mountain, but its not that easy. There are a lot of secret traps all over it, but no matter what I did I could never beat Sabito. He never made me feel bad about it, he always said I was ‘just behind him’ even if I was leagues behind him.”

“He’s the one who first told me that wishing I was the one who hadn’t survived is cruel to those I’d lost. I forgot about that message for a long time, but it still stuck with me. He always made sure the see if I was ok before he ever took care of himself, even if he was in a worse condition, I always had to be first.”

Giyu kept talking, sharing stories and moments that he held fondly in his memories about Sabito. Sanemi sat and listened.

.+.+.

The sight of Giyu talking so excitedly was something that was terribly missed. His eyes were alight with something they had been missing for years. His gaze was softer somehow, laden with newfound tiredness. His hand gestured about, emphasising each of his words as he watched the water flow past.

This was the most alive Giyu had been in years.

His hair was shorter than it had ever been before. Not in its usual unkept ponytail, instead cropped close to his ears. It looked nice on him, much more adult than how he looked when he last was here.

Not to mention his injury. The most distinct difference, lacking the majority of his right arm. The empty sleeve neatly tucked away, maybe it was done by Shinazugawa?

Right.

Shinazugawa.

Who practically hung off of every word that fell from Giyu’s mouth. That sight was awfully familiar. The white haired male watched each of Giyu’s movements, from his gestures to his eyes.

His eyes filled with nothing but admiration and love.

His hand traced small circles against the small of Giyu’s back, a gentle but intimate gesture of support. It brough about a bittersweet sense of yearning.

Yearning to touch, to talk, to feel. Those were all long forgotten by the time this evening rolled around.

It had been almost a decade since he had sat there with Giyu, since he’d had the ability to see him one last time, to share stories and laugh.

Sabito had made peace with that.

He still enjoyed hearing what Giyu had to say in the letters written to him, he enjoyed watching Giyu live for himself, watching him fall in love, watching him be loved.

He’s happy to wait.

Afterall he told Giyu he would.

Thinking it rude to keep watch, no matter how much he wanted to stay, Sabito bid them both a silent ‘goodbye’ before returning back into the wood.

.+.+.

The night continued, turning into Giyu pressed against Sanemi’s side to keep warm. Giyu didnt find it in himself to cry, there was no need. He was there with the people he loved, there was nothing more he needed to do.

Eventually the two of them decided it was getting far too late to make it back safely. Giyu drowsily showing Sanmei the much easier way to get back to the cabin. With the promise of a warm bed and a fire burning, they quickly made their way down the path.

Neither of them noticed the presence of a red fox just against the tree line, as if it were ensuring their safe return.
_______

After returning back to the water estate, the two of them fell back into the easy flowing rhythm of their shared existence. It became as easy as breathing to take care of one another. They would set the table for the other, always making enough food for two, whenever they would run a bath the other was always invited.

They had kept the routine of alternating rooms in the evening, always waking up in eachothers arms.

When they would take a day in town, it became common for one of them to pick up something small for the other. Usually a small sweet or simply something that reminded them of one another. Slowly decorating the bare walls of his estate with small trinkets and flowers in a way that Giyu would have never considered.

The fall became winter faster than Giyu could keep up with. The chill in the air quickly became frost, rain turning to heavy blankets of snow that kept both of them inside. Holding eachother that much closer in the night, making sure both of them stayed warm.

On the days where Giyu had more energy, the two of them would wear warmer clothes and spend the afternoon seeing how many times the other could dodge the chunks of snow they’d sling at eachother. Always ending the evening in a warm bath with extra care being taken on his aching muscles.

As the months went on, Giyu found a unique dredge of exhaustion begin to grow. A feeling that hung just behind his muscles, something that would linger like sleep at the edges of his vision. Giyu knew that he wasn’t mean to last forever, he knew that he was ever nearing the age that would mark the end of his time.

Even though he knew he was nearing his end and everything seemed to be slowing down, he was determined to spend each moment that he could with Sanemi.

_______

It’d been two months since Giyu died, there was no tragic accident, no disease, it happened suddenly like a candle being snuffed out. An abrupt end to the life that Sanemi had just been allowed entrance to.

Giyu was 24 years old. Almost to the age of 25, their deadline.

He knew they didn’t have that much time left with one another, but would it ever have felt like enough?

It was almost three years that Sanemi had spent living at the water estate. Three years finally becoming comfortable enough to be open with the man who used to tip him over the edge. There was the dim edge of regret, that Sanemi hadn’t realised what his own feelings meant before suffering the loss of his friends and what was left of his family.

He had to admit that he wished that he had gotten to know Giyu before everything happened, that he had taken the time to look at what it was that he truly felt about the other. The time that he had spent with Giyu was nothing short of everything he wanted it to be.

Even though Giyu had been struggling, he still did what he could to show as much care as he could to Sanemi. He had every right to turn Sanemi away, to hold onto any bitter resentment that came from his initial rejection.

The time that Sanemi had stayed with Tengen was helpful to say the least. They were both sole survivors, despite the different circumstances, Sanemi would’ve been lost without him. His wives were nothing but supportive, having helped Tengen through his own grief prior to this.

Unbeknowst to even himself, he had been worried about Giyu throughout the duration of his stay. He’d had some inclination that he wasn’t doing well, if his track record for self-care was anything to go by. Sanemi didn’t realise that he had been subtly voicing his concerns, spending half his time wallowing in grief and the other half worried about the last remaining hashira.

This culminated in Tengen being tired of hearing about it, essentially kicking Sanemi out. The sentiment of ‘you keep talking about him, but all you’re doing is sitting here and worrying instead of actual doing something about it’.

Knowing what he knew now, Tengen probably saw through his flimsy walls of concern through to the actual care and admiration he had towards Giyu. Something that Sanemi hadn’t even realised until months had passed of him staying with the other.

He would never be able to forget the day he was stupid enough to try and organize his thoughts somewhere else and getting caught in the rain. Only to confess upon his return and be met with reciprocated feelings. How they shared their first kiss that night, the beginning of the gentle touches and care that he had starved himself of for years.

The start of their long nights filled with listening to the other speak about everything and anything. Learning more about eachother, falling more in love with eachother. The time that Sanemi spent with Giyu had just felt right, like that was the piece that he had been missing up until now.

But now it’s different.

Giyu was dead, and that was the reality that Sanemi was left with.

There was no big ceremony, Sanemi had to be the one to inform the last of Giyu’s connections. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Inosuke, and Zenitsu came, and well as Tengen and his wives. Since the corps had been disbanded before Giyu passed, a grave was placed on the estate grounds, out in the woods. Afterall, Giyu had requested such a burial.
….

The day he was buried was nice, the sun way out with a smattering of clouds overhead. Sanemi took in the feeling of the morning, the crisp air still holding its chill from the night before, birds off in the distance beginning to sing as the sun creeped above the horizon.

On a day like this Giyu would’ve had all the doors and windows to the estate open reminiscing on his mornings up on the mountain, they would’ve sat and ate together after soaking in the last bits of warmth from sleep. They would sit out together under the sky, Giyu resting his head in Sanemi’s lap as he read a book aloud.

Giyu was always a better listener anyway.

They would be surrounded by the sound of the wind racing through the leaves, finally being able to sit and enjoy the day without the fear of nightfall.

But Giyu wasn’t there.

He wasn't there to sit under the sky, wasn’t there to listen as Sanemi read accompanied by the wind, wasn't there to eat a meal with him.

Facing that day was a bitter pill to swallow, it felt more like a grim reminder that Giyu was no longer there with him. Still he did the best he could, he paid his respects, he held onto his promise as much as he could.

Sanemi went through that day in a daze. He remembers Tanjiro and his friends speaking to him and paying their own respects, telling stories about their time with Giyu in and outside of battle.

Tengen and his wives didn’t have much to say, the former sound hashira being as respectful as he could without knowing Giyu personally. His wives spent time comforting the young adults, having more of a connection with them after the events of taking down an upper moon.

Everyone seemed to be giving him space, which he didnt know how that made him feel. Nevertheless, he stood in front of the grave, the others had long since returned to the estate.

The sun hung high in the sky, warming the air around him as he remained standing there. Sanemi was trying, trying to feel something, trying to say something, but he just couldn’t. He’d always struggled with expressing feelings like this. It’s the same reason why he had struggled so long with his own brother before it was already too late for him to do so.

His gaze remained steady on the stone in front of him. The pillar stood still, lifeless, cold.

Hardly an echo of the man who he’d gotten to spend his last years with. There were no deep blue eyes staring lovingly at him, no messy black hair the never seemed to settle into place after waking up, no soft voice to reassure him that everything would be ok.

The small cracks that had formed in his self control gave way. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he dropped onto the ground in front of Giyu’s grave. Feeling as if he was praying to some god in a desolate cry for salvation.

Sanemi cries, he doesnt wail, he doesnt sob, but the steady flow of tears didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. There were so many things that he could say, things that he wanted to say, things he should say.

Yet, he remained silent.

Whimpers and shuddering breaths were all that could be heard. His eyes had long since been clouded with tears, unable to focus on what was in front of him.

Was it mercy he was asking for?

Was mercy what he deserved?
….

By the time Sanemi’s breathing had calmed, his sobs turned into the occasional shuddering breath, eyes unable to produce tears anymore, unnoticed hours had passed. The sun hung low in the sky casting golden light against his surroundings.

He was tired, more tired than he realised. His muscles felt heavy as he remained in front of the grave. Finally feeling able enough to get words past the confines of his mind.

“Why’d you have to go dyin on me huh?” Sanemi could practically hear Giyu’s response of denial, almost smiling at the false echo.

It was somewhat bittersweet speaking to what stood as the memory of the one he loved. He couldn’t deny that someone desperate stirred within him, wanting terribly to hear anything from the other.

“I never told you what your master said to me that night. It seems kinda stupid to tell you now, but I think you’d wanna know. He thanked me for saving you, that he couldn’t stand to see his son suffer alone.”

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes burning with would be tears.

“You know what I told him? I told him you were the one who saved me. Giyu, you saved me from myself. I know that we made a promise, for whoever was left.” Sanemi cleared his throat, wincing at how weak his voice sounded. “I wouldn’t want you to bear all this, so I’ll be the one to bear it for the both of us.”

The sound of footsteps broke him out of the moment. Turning to see the former sound pillar approaching him. Sanemi turned back, wiping the lingering tears that remained on his face. He knew that he didn’t have to try to make himself look presentable, but the overwhelming vulnerability of the moment felt too much to display.

Tengen didn’t speak as he approached Sanemi. He knew full well that the shinobi could mask his footsteps, he wanted Sanemi to hear him approach. Tengen stood silent next to Sanemi’s seated form for a few moments before finally crouching next to him.

Sanemi wouldn’t comment about Tengen’s change from his usual loud and brash behavior, taking it as a silent means of saying he understood what Sanemi needed in that moment. Afterall, that was the initial reason as to why Sanemi sought out Tengen after the events of the final battle.

Sanemi knew that his past was also laden with grief, and the subsequent guilt that Sanemi still wasn’t sure if he had even come to terms with his own.

Still, he was yet another reminder to live while you are still able to live.

The two of them sat in place for a few moments, allowing the silence to ease into something more breakable. Tengen stood, probably looking down at Sanemi who couldn't find it in him to care about looking back.

“The wives made food, and I’d be lying if I said they're not worried about you.”

Tengen sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

“Hell, even I’ll admit it. I hate seeing you like this and I’m worried. I’m sure you don’t want to hear my usual tangent about being unflashy, but you are going to come with me back to the house, you are going to eat and drink with us, and goddamnit Sanemi you are going to live.”

Sanemi couldn’t argue.

Not only was there no room in Tengens words that would allow for any rebuttal, but there was nothing that he could deny in those statements. Reluctantly he stood and began to follow Tengen back to the direction of the estate.

The urge to turn and look behind him was almost overwhelming, stricken with the hope of seeing the familiar man behind him. Instead he steeled himself and continued his pace, his heart couldn’t take the disappointment that was sure to follow.

Only when he began to move again did he fully realise how long he had sat outside. His legs were sore from sitting on the hard ground, his lungs ached, his eyes were dry, the sun had shifted causing the sky to begin it’s shift back to the deep inky black of night.
….

Sanemi was glad that all the cooking took place while he wasn’t in the estate. Not that he was overprotective of the property, or worried that somehow someone would manage to break something. Instead, seeing a task that was routinely carried out by him and Giyu without either of them would make the entire situation much too real.

He did have to admit that Tengen’s wives were good at cooking, equally as good as wrangling four teenagers and keeping them occupied , especially in this blatant moment of distress.

Food was eaten, Sanemi wasn’t paying attention to what happened for the entirety of the meal. No one pressured him to speak, to interact, to pretend that he felt ok. It took away an invisible weight of worry from his shoulders that he wasn’t even aware of.

The food was good and equally as hearty, either as a means to ward off the cool night air or to fill a yawning endless void of grief. Either way Sanemi wasn’t complaining, especially when Tengen offered him a drink.

Sanemi wasn’t drinking out of a want to drown anything out, he knew better than to do that again. It was something that he was thankful that he was able to share with the people with him. Even if it sounded stupid and sappy, he didn’t care.

By the time the teens retired for the night it was well past midnight. Tanjiro waited, letting the others say goodnight and head to the room allotted for them. When Sanemi was left with just Tengen and his wives, Tanjiro approached him.

He wasn’t surprised that Tanjrio wanted to talk to him specifically. It was something that was bound to happen sooner or later.

Tanjrio sat in front of Sanemi, hand held in his lap while the other lay lame at his side. A sight that caused an unwarranted unwanted twinge to sting deep in his heart. There were likely a thousand things that Tanjiro wanted to say to him, to ask him, anything and everything that the boy had confided in Giyu up until this point.

“Shinazugawa, are you alright?” It was a simple question, something that left the depth of the response entirely up to Sanemi. Tanjiro sounded just as worried as when he first visited Giyu after Sanemi began living there.

Sanemi took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't burden the boy with every ounce of his grief, but he also couldn’t bring himself to pretend that there was a different answer. The feeling of eyes on him was almost palpable as he took his time to respond, clearly a question that the others meant to ask as well.

“We made a promise, Giyu and I.” Sanemi began before the weight of the words in his mouth felt too obtrusive. “That whoever lived wouldn’t let the other’s death hold them back from living their life for as long as they had left.”

Tanjiro listened. Sitting politely with an unmasked look of interest on his features. It was a side of the boy that Sanemi hadn’t seen, or even been allowed by Tanjiro to see.

“I mean to make good on my end of that promise. No matter how I feel right now, I know he’d want me to keep living.” He says, casting a pointed glance upwards. As if there was some way that Giyu was able to see him.

A wry smile settles on Tanjiro’s face. It was full of something much more knowing than the boy would probably care to admit.

Through conversations with Giyu, Sanemi knew that this sentiment was something that even Giyu had struggled with until Tanjiro had reminded him.

Yeah, it was hard for Sanemi to lose his lover. For Tanjiro, he had lost a friend, a mentor, the person who stepped in to save his sister and subsequently himself, and most importantly the closest thing to an older brother that the boy probably ever had.

They now had a shared connection of mutual grief, same goes for Nezuko. Sanemi wished there was any way for him to properly communicate how much she reminded him of his late brother, how that simple reason made it incredibly difficult for him to face her.

Maybe there’d come a day where he would finally be able to speak to Tanjiro and the others about Genya, to finally learn more about him, to make up for all of the years that he had shut him out.

Before his thoughts could spiral too far into the depths of self depreciation, Tanjrio tentatively reached out towards Sanemi. He wasn’t expecting a hug, or any closer form of contact, but even still this came as a surprise.

Tanjiro’s calloused hand settled on his arm. It wasn’t anything major, but there was an air of intense powerful emotion behind it.

“Shinazugawa.” Tanjiro’s smile fell, a serious look took over his expression. Sanemi understood now what Giyu meant when he said its hard to remember that Tanjiro is much younger than him. “If you need anything, you know that we are here. The past doesn’t matter anymore, ok?”

Sanemi nodded. The whiplash of emotions from the other struck a chord deep within him. Knowing that Tanjrio had meant what he said. Tanjiro stood, not paying any mind to the eyes on him after his display of trust with Sanemi.

At that point Sanemi had tuned out most of his surroundings, focusing on the sound of the wind outside, the blood rushing in his ears, and the faint intoxicated blur that had long since settled along the edges of his vision.

He heard ambient ‘goodnights’ exchanged between Tanjiro and the Tengen’s as he left the room. Idle chatter flowed around him, voices mingling and warping in familiar patterns and distinctions to provide enough background noise.

There wasn’t much that he had to reflect on, more so that he couldn’t handle reflecting on it at the moment. It’d been a while since the estate was this full of life, something that stood as a comfort as well as a grim reminder of why everyone had gathered for that day.

The four others were invested in conversation about something or another, Sanemi couldn’t really find it in him to pay attention to the words being exchanged. Their volume had decreased greatly since the teenagers had headed to bed, but it was still loud enough that he was sure the little yellow one would come and complain any moment.

Out of the corner of his vision, where it was held studying the grain of the wooden table, he say one of Tengen’s wives scoot closer to him. It was Suma.

From his time spent with Tengen, he noticed that Suma tended to be more, emotional. Not that it was anything that would detract from her character, but it was something that Sanemi wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle on to of everything else.

He was pleasantly surprised to be met with a warm smile and comforting eyes, her face held a slight flush from the alcohol. He tried his best not to take note of the long dark hair and the blue eyes, to little success. He felt a small twinge of guilt fizzle within him as his thoughts created the comparison between her and Giyu.

It was clear that there was something that she wanted to say, waiting patiently for any form of engagement from him.

Sanemi raised his eyebrows in her direction, giving her the opportunity to speak what was on her mind. A smile splayed across her face, her eyes crinkled at the edges in a way that tugged at Sanemi’s heart.

“I know this might not be the best time, but I don't think I ever got to really meet Tomioka.” Suma started, her eyes darting over to the others at the table. “If it’s too much you don't need to answer but I really wanna know, what was he like?”

Sanemi was taken aback at the request. Years ago he had also possessed the same curiosity about Giyu, he wanted to get to know him, learn all the little things that made him tick, the things he likes, who exactly Giyu was. To be on the opposite side of that curiosity was almost jarring.

Sanemi took another drink of the most likely very expensive alcohol that Tengen brought with him. If it were to ease his nerves or to drown out his vulnerabilities, he couldn’t tell. He felt the sting of the liquid trail down his throat before speaking.

“He was so smart, or well clever, like a fox. He was also dumb as hell. I got to know him as a swordsman before a person, but off the battlefield he was just so, him.”

Before he realized it, words were flowing freely past his lips.

“He cared for others before he would even consider taking care of himself, he was selfless like that. He was funny, it took me a while to really realize, but he was funny in a way where you wouldn’t catch on until minutes later.”

“He was an amazing listener, he could sit and listen to me prattle on for hours just happy to be there. Even though he was a great listener, he couldn’t pick up social cues for the life of him. I’m sure you remember how he was in the corps. There was one time he didn’t realize that an absolutely beautiful girl was blatantly flirting with him. I don’t blame her, he’s just so pretty to look at.”

“He let me cut his hair one night, I thought that I was gonna pass out with how close it felt. I hated to see that long hair go, but he looked equally as handsome without it. His eyes were just such a rich deep blue. I could get lost in them for hours, just him letting me admire him. His face was just…”

Sanemi trailed off. It felt good to finally speak what was on his mind. His eyes had long since been lined with tears. Even through the clouded vision he was able to make out the four sets of eyes on him.

The silent moment was broken with a low droning whistle from Tengen.

“Wow, you really loved him huh?”

“Yeah, yeah I still do.” Sanemi felt himself choke on each syllable.

That’s when Suma began crying, Makio and Hinatsuru immediately jumped to her side, voices shaking and warbled themselves.

“When you sent me that letter saying you started staying here with him and helping him cope with everything I wondered how long it would take for you to figure that out.”

The earned Tengen a little jab to the side from Hinatsuru, being quietly and quickly scolded before she returned to comforting Suma. Even if the tears in his eyes refused to shed, it was unifying to see his grief be shared among others.
_______

Without Giyu’s presence, the days seemed to blend together. Even if he had promised Giyu that he wouldn’t let his death hang over his head, only if he promised the same. Sanemi was doing his best to uphold his end of the promise.

That was much easier said than done. There was just less now. Less laughter, less talking, everything had been cut in half, leaving Sanemi to collect the pieces that the two of them had built together.

Giyu’s belongings untouched since that day. The door to his room always kept slightly ajar as if a silent invitation was being offered to Sanemi, even if he knew there would be no one behind it.

He found himself falling into the routine that had become commonplace for the estate. Making more food than necessary for just him, just in case. Keeping an open place set at the table, just in case. His door remained cracked as he slept, silently hoping to hear the soft footsteps traveling from down the hall, hoping that he was still alive somewhere.

It was a hope that he refused to let go, no matter how foolish it felt every time he was let down.
He carried on that way for three months. Still holding onto the threads of false hope that everything around him was somehow a dream, something he would wake up from to find Giyu sound asleep next to him.

There was something comforting in the inevitability of it, Sanemi understood that he had a clear deadline. A deadline that was fast approaching. Besides Tengen, he was the only one left. Of his family, his friends, his partner. He was it.

He was alone again. Almost the same as before, except now he wasn’t lonely. The connections that he had before were strained, out of convenience more than actual closeness. The only exception being Kanae and Obanai, but those two came with their own histories that were special to him even if he would never admit it outloud.

Now he had people who he could actually rely on. His relationship with the Kamados and their friends was still thin, but it was there. Tengen and his wives would often check on him after he so graciously kicked Sanemi out. Despite being in the estate that belonged to Giyu without his presence alongside it, he didn’t feel the same all consuming guilt that being alone gave him before.

Afterall he had two promises to keep.

Giyu’s promise to keep living his life even if it meant without him, and the promise he had made years ago. A promise that if he thought too long or hard about it, he would end up in tears, dredging up memories he tried so desperately to keep safe.

….

It wasn’t long after they had gotten together that Giyu had shared that he had formed the habit of writing letters to those who had passed. He had shown Sanemi his collection of folded pages and blotted ink, Sanemi never dared to read them. They were words for someone else, someone who he never got to meet.

Slowly it became something that Sanemi practiced as well. He found it calming to get everything that was caught in his throat, everything that lingered in the back of his mind, out onto the paper. It took him a while to muster up the courage to face his grief in such a way.

He idly wondered how Giyu was brave enough to face his own, and to face it for so long on his own.

Eventually it culminated one night, on a day where Sanemi couldn’t find it within himself to leave the house or interact with strangers in town. The sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon, leaving the sky an inky black with only a few stars peaking through the invisible clouds.

All he had managed to get done that day was eat and care for himself. His idle time was filled with daydreaming and musing about times past.

He found himself sat at the dining table, across from the spot still saved for Giyu. A blank sheet of paper in front of him, alongside it a brush with ink. For a while Sanemi sat, simply breathing, attempting to put it off as long as possible.

His motions were slow. Picking up the brush and feeling its weight in his hand, bringing it to wet it with ink, brushing off the excess before beginning to write.

My Giyu,

I dont know if you’ll even read this letter, but I know I have to write it.

I miss you and I dont think that this ache will ever stop, without you the world just doesnt make sense.

Days are too long and too short at the same time. The air is too empty now.

I can still hear your laugh from just around the corner, I can hear you calling my name from across the courtyard, I can see you sitting at the table waiting for me, I can hear your footsteps just down the hall at night, coming back to me. I feel you against me when it rains, I feel your head rested against my shoulder at night when you dont want to admit you're tired yet, your hand tracing over my own as I walk through town.

I dont know if I can ever forgive myself for not loving you sooner. I cant begin to imagine the heartbreak I caused you over and over again, or why you chose to let me in one last time. Afterall, you were the one who taught me how to love someone the way they should be loved.

Maybe when we do all this again, our next go around, we wont have to worry about dying, we wont have to worry about the corps or responsibilities, and we can make more out of the time we have together.

That sounds pretty selfish doesn’t it? I can already picture that snarky little look you get in your eyes whenever I say something stupid. I cant wait to see that look again. Just the sight of you would be enough to bring me back to my knees.

Til we meet again,
Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi ignored the wet blotches on the paper that smudged the ink as he folded it tightly. This time the tears that fell felt more of a release than the usual heavy yawning pit that opened in his stomach whenever he cried.

He quickly tucked the letter away in an empty box. It felt much to barren on the inside to heed any sort of reverence or importance, that was something Sanemi needed to change.

Sanemi couldn’t bring himself to create a proper alter for those who he lost. Seeing a physical manifestation of his grief felt so foreign after not having one for his fallen family. Thinking back to the container Giyu had shown Sanemi all those months ago, full of worn folded papers, dried flowers and ribbons. He had told Sanemi that each of the little bits and pieces were things that had reminded him of whoever he wanted to send a letter to.

Sanemi wouldn’t dare look inside that box now, nonetheless go into Giyu’s room. Just because he wasn’t there anymore didn’t allow Sanemi permission to enter.

….

Throughout the next couple of weeks, Sanemi had slowly amassed a small collection of items. The easiest was a small sachet of wisteria, even though there was no fear of demons anymore it still brought him some piece of mind. Along with the small purple sachet, two dried flowers lay side by side, delicately placed together. One being a lily, the white curl of the petals kept pristine with the orange pollen long since removed. The second being an iris, the rich blue color reminding Sanemi of Giyu’s eyes.

The last item placed was one that felt the most painful. A hair pin that Sanemi was never given the chance to give to Giyu. The long silver pin was topped with a small blue flower. Giyu’s hair had grown longer in the year before he passed, Sanemi missed how it felt between his fingers.

He hoped that somehow, some way, Giyu received it. Sanemi could imagine the quiet excitement that would spread over his face as he held it back up to Sanemi asking to help him put it in his hair. Sanemi would’ve agreed immediately, running his fingers through the long jet black locks, making sure to gently brush out any knots or tangles before fastening it in place with the pin.

These were only musings of his imagination. Amalgimations of his memories picked apart and put back together in an attempt to mimic the other. There was nothing his brain could come up with that would even come close to replicating the intricate complexities of Giyu.

He’d learned to settle for the memories that played on repeat just behind his eyelids, flickering in the corners of his vision, heard faintly carried by the breeze.

Sanemi had a second box. The night he wrote to Giyu, he wrote a second letter. He wrote to someone he hadn’t seen in far too long, to someone who could never be replaced.

Genya,

I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my own ass to see how much I was hurting you. I will never forgive myself for how I treated you.

I know you didn’t mean what you said, you were just a kid and I only saw you as someone that needed to be protected rather than someone who can protect others. I should've seen that sooner, should’ve realised what I was doing wasn’t helping either of us.

I’m sorry I started acting so much like dad.

We had this conversation before, but I can hardly live with that being our last conversation. I dont know if you’ll get this letter, someone told me that you would and that I should send one. Theres a lot that happened that I don’t even know how to put into one letter, but I found someone that I spent the rest of my life with. Knowing you, you’d already been watching all this unfold.

I hope that one day we can meet again, sometime else, somewhere else, brothers or not. I hope that you’re resting easy wherever you are, and I’m sure our sisters and brothers are excited to see how much you’ve grown.

I miss you more than I think I’ll ever even know.
‘Nemi

This letter contained unspoken grief, the letters that comprised the words were shaky and disjointed. Something deep inside him had been tapped, a trapped well of emotions that would now slowly begin to leech out into his bones.

The letter was neatly folded and tucked away in its own space. This box had the same satchel of wisteria, the same purple fabric containing what would protect him. Next to it a small packet of seeds. Sanemi had felt foolish as he collected them from a watermelon he had bought on a whim, but he knew that fruit was his little brothers favorite.

The biggest item in the box was also one that Sanemi was the most unfamiliar with. Genya’s shotgun sat amongst the other items. Although it no longer bore the same eye-like growths around its smooth metal and wood surface, Sanemi still felt an avoidance for the weapon. He had used it during the same battle which he had lost his brother, but there was something untouchable about it. The shotgun being the very thing that Genya was going to use to finally try and show his worth to his brother.

The last thing that had been placed was piece of dark purple fabric. Fabric that had belonged to his little brothers clothes, the same fabric that had to be wrenched from his hands as he watched his little brother crumble away into nothing before him.

Sanemi knew that his little brothers grave was empty. It was just a headstone with his name carved into it, standing still on the Ubayashiki estate. That wasn’t his brother, it didn’t have any personal touch, it lacked the least amount of life a gravestone could have.

Not that Sanemi didn’t appreciate the thought of the corps, their way of honoring the dead. It just didn’t feel like enough for his brother.

Both boxes were kept safe in his room. No need to hide them away from anybody, with him being the only one living that new about their existence. As he continued about his life, day by day, he made sure to keep his eyes open for anything that reminded him of the people dearest to him.
_______

Surprisingly, Sanemi had been getting closer with the Kamado siblings, specifically Tanjiro. Through letters, he learned more about the boy, his sister, and most importantly, his own brother. Finding out that both of them were survivors of familicide, both their youngest surviving siblings became demons, amongst other similarities was a shock to Sanemi.

Finally getting over his original animosity towards the boy, he found it within himself to speak freely with him. His letters were full of stories he could remember of his brother, which were returned a hundred fold from Tanjiro.

He read about his little brothers face off with an upper moon, how it was his attempt to become a hashira like him. How Genya had almost died that night, with an apology to Sanemi on his lips before Tanjiro saved him.

Sanemi also learned that Tanjiro had found Genya’s tooth, that he tried to return it, and still held onto it. Sanemi had to decline the boys insistence that he should have it.

The letters that he received sometimes contained stories from the other kids. Even though Nezuko didn’t remember much from her time as a demon, and the little yellow one was still scared shitless of him. The little boar headed kid had only stories about how strong Genya was even if ‘he couldn’t beat me in a fight, no way’.

Sometimes the letters were written with a hand much steadier and smoother accompanied by a disclaimer about it being written by Nezuko. He learned about the lasting effects of Tanjiro’s injuries, with his partial vision and immobile hand.

In the letters he heard about Tanjiro’s memories of his brother. He learned about their fight at the swordsmith village, even though it caused his nerves to run rampant leaning about what his brother faced, he was still proud of him for surviving that fight. He heard about Tanjiro’s recovery with Genya after their fight at the swordsmith village, how they stayed up telling stories and sharing memories. A bitter taste of envy threatened to fill Sanemi, but was quickly engulfed with the shame that it wasnt him who Genya shared these memories with.

But that was his fault. A fault that he was desperately trying to rectify.

Tanjiro could only share a bit about what he remembers from the hashira training. How Genya was the one to help both Tanjiro and Inosuke through the final round of training. Tanjiro was able to recount how Genya was able to slowly change how he felt about Sanemi, which he assumed was no easy task given their track record. The younger boy wrote about how he was nothing but supportive of Genya, instead of taking that as a personal dig, Sanemi was just glad that Genya was able to find the right people that he needed when he did.

Sanemi knew that Genya trained under Gyomei, how the stone pillar essentially became his guardian after he had failed to do so. If he were any closer with Gyomei he would’ve had the balls to ask him about his brother. He never allowed himself to do so even if the curiosity would cause him to lose sleep.

With each story or memory shared from the boy, Sanemi could sense words unwritten. There was a feeling that felt like his own towards Giyu, something full of sentiment and yearning that was clear to see between the words, something hidden just behind the ink. He wouldn’t ask Tanjiro about it, nor would he insinuate that he knew as he feared it would inhibit hearing about his brother all together. For now, he would try his best not to speculate about that specific unknown.

When the younger sister would take over writing for the other, she would add flourishes in the margins of hearts or drawings of flowers whenever Tanjiro would say something particularly sappy. Even if he wasn’t in either of their presence, the simple sibling interactions made his heart ache over his fallen siblings.

….

Genya,

I wish I had been able to get to know you while you were still here. I’m only catching glimpses of memories through someone elses words and it just doesn’t add up to the real thing.

It is nice to know that you had people there for you when I wasn’t able to be there, even if I couldn’t realise how good they were at the time. I can sense how much you meant to them, and how much I can only assume thay meant to you.

The more I learn about our time apart makes me miss the times when we were kids.

I wish time wouldv’e froze then, with just us and mom. Instead I pushed us to end up on opposite sides of a needless argument. It would be selfish of me to wish that you had survived, cruel of me to deny your sacrifice. I just know now that you would’ve had the support from others that I was never able to give you until it was too late.

Til I see you again,
‘Nemi

….

Giyu,

Everyday I hope I’ll wake up and find you already awake, as if everything had just been a twisted delusion I am finally waking from. I cant help but hold out hope that I’ll catch a glimpse of you so that I can bear the rest of the day.

I think you’d be happy to know that I’ve been talking to the Kamado’s, and the other two. It’s been hard but I’m learning more about Genya, more than just keeping a distant eye on him. I wonder if you met him there yet, I can only hope that’s the case.

The flowers are blooming again, I can’t help but yearn for the days when you would let me tuck one behind your ear even if you would call me a sap. More butterflies had made their way onto the estate grounds, I remember the first summer I stayed here. You told me how the one’s we’ve lost never really go away, I’m starting to understand what you meant.

There is nothing that can replace you, no one even compared to the amount you mean to me.
I love you,
Sanemi

….

The rest of the warmer months blurred together. Colorful and vibrant greens and pastels filled the morning, turning into deep warm tones in the afternoon, and fading into the rich royal blues of the evening. It wasn’t unpleasant, the time was just so empty.

Sanemi still kept in touch with Uzui and the Kamado’s, even if there wasn’t anything particularly eventful happening. The days somehow felt nostalgic to his days spent in the corps. He would wake up, eat a simple meal, spend his days taking care of various chores or tasks, make himself dinner, spend hours underneath the stars until he eventually found himself too tired to keept his eyes open any longer.

There was something that he had begun to notice as the days stretched on, a feeling that settled over him like a heavy blanket. Sanemi could feel his body growing more exhausted with each sunrise. It wasn’t the type of exhaustion that he had grown accustomed to feeling after long nights of patrols or missions. This was something different.

Sanemi knew that he was nearing 25, he knew all too well what was on the horizon. However, it wasn’t scary, at least not to Sanemi. If he spent the entire day without leaving the estate due to his bones feeling like they were forged of steel, he only took notice. There were days where the simple act of speaking felt like too difficult a task, his body locking on an irrimovable muzzle.

He didn’t write to anyone about any of it. Uzui and his wives would most likely fret over him in a way that he would despise, and even though Tanjiro will eventually fall to the same fate as him and Giyu, he didn’t want it to linger of the boy’s head for the rest of the time he had left.

Sanemi wondered if this was how it felt for all of the other slayers that had manifested a mark, especially if it was how Giyu felt. With the slayers from the past, they hadn’t even lived to see the fall of Muzan. Maybe that’s why there was a strange sense of peace that Sanemi felt.

There was no sense of peace of comfort when Sanemi came to understand that this was what Giyu was most likely dealing with on his own. It settled heavy and tight around his heart, even thinking that Giyu was hiding this away for his sake.

Giyu,

I dont know how long it will be until I see you again, but I can only assume that my time is fast approaching.

Is this how you felt? This total exhaustion? I cant imagine how that must’ve been. Acting like nothing was wrong for my sake.

Oh my love, you didn’t need to do that to yourself for me.

I’m meant to be 25 soon, but I dont know if I’ll make it until then. I can only hope that you’re waiting for me, but if you aren’t I wont blame you. Afterall, its already taken me forever to realise my own feelings for you. I wouldn’t want to make you wait for me all over again.

I wonder if you ever got my gift. I think that hair pin would look perfect. Just like you.

Maybe when we see eachother again I can properly put it in your hair. Maybe it’ll be sooner rather than later.

As much as I hope to see you again soon, I know full well what it means. But thats ok. I’ve lived as much of this life as I could, and I’ve made peace with that.

Always yours,
Sanemi

As was routine by then, Sanemi folded the letter.

The creases weren’t as symmetrical as letters he’d written in the past, but that was ok. He tucked it into its respective box, having to carefully move some of its content to make enough room amongst the other papers.

His limbs felt heavy, something that had become commonplace for him for the past few weeks. The feeling that never seemed to lessen no matter what he did, but that was ok. Even as he got ready for the night in his sleep clothes, he felt ok despite the exhaustion.

Sanemi moved to write a second letter, one for Genya.

Would Genya be waiting for him? Even after the way he had treated him while he was alive? Maybe, but ultimately that was out of his control.

Before he could sit back down at the table with a new sheet of paper, something stopped him. A feeling somewhere far away, in the back of his mind, words on the tip of his tongue, a memory that he couldn’t quite hold for long enough to see it fully.

Subconsciously his gaze was brought to the cracked open doorway across the hall. A doorway that he had avoided for months because he knew what was on the other side of it. The feeling urged him to walk, urged him to enter that room no matter what was on the other side.

He could always say what he wanted to Genya later. There was something he just couldn’t ignore in that moment. Slowly, his feet carried him across the floor, stopping right in front of the small opening left by the cracked door. Something twisted deep inside his gut, something Sanemi couldn’t put words to.

His hand came up to rest against the wood, only a movement away from opening the door all the way. Instead of the supposed pit of grief that would swallow him whole everytime he so much as walked too close to that side of the hall, an unusual calm overtook him. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, the contents of the room were revealed to him.

Everything still in the position it was left in. The futon still left out, blankets strewn to the side after the two of them decided to stay in Sanemi’s room for the night. Giyu’s closet slightly ajar from when he grabbed his sleep clothes, a promise to return to close it later. His Katana kept neatly at rest underneath the window, now a faint film of dust coated the sheath and handle.

It looked as though Giyu would be right back. He’d come in to fix the bed, straighten out the blankets before inviting Sanemi underneath them.

Who was he to deny that invitation?

The cloth was cold under his fingers. There was no life to breathe any warmth into the blankets. He laid down and pulled the blanket over him, a familiar nostalgic calm washed over him. Sanemi wondered why he hadn’t allowed himself to enter this room in so long.

Sanemi could’ve sworn that the bedding still smelled like Giyu, even if it was just a trick of his mind.

His eyelids felt heavy, willing themselves closed. The weighty dredge of exhaustion began to pull him under.

Just for a moment, he could've sworn he heard the voices of his fallen friends just out of earshot. It sounded as if there was a get together happening just outside the door, cups clacking together before being set down on the table, the hum of conversation with the intermingled laughing he missed so much.

He felt a tug to get up, to go and see the people who he knew weren’t really there. Despite this desire, his body refused to get up, he found himself anchored in place.

Sanemi took a deep breath, he could feel the energy in his body began to begin to falter. His eyelids fluttered closed, and Sanemi slept.

_______

Sanemi opened his eyes to somewhere eerily familiar.

A town he hadn’t stepped foot in in well over a decade. He found himself standing in the street. Snow gently dusting the rooftops, but he didn’t feel a chill.

He couldn’t remember if he woke up that day.

Was it already winter?

“Aniki?”

Sanemi knew that voice.

Oh how he had missed that voice.

Sanemi felt his entire body freeze, his heart stuttered and his breath choked its way through his throat.

Before his brain could catch up with his body, he was running.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. His body was filled with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. Buildings rushed past his vision, blurring together mixed with the blinding white of the snow. He knew somewhere deep down who it was he was searching for.

Sure enough, Genya was there. Standing in the middle of the road, soaked in the orange haze of an early morning sunrise.

For a moment he was worried that this was another trick of his mind. Like the all too familiar nightmares that would haunt the moonlit hours of the day, where as soon as he was close enough to touch, Genya would vanish in front of him.

His body crashed against Genya’s. Throwing the full force of everything he had to say, everything he felt, everything. Sanemi let out a sob before he had even realised he was crying.

“Wait, if you’re here. ‘Nemi you-”

“I dont care, I couldn’t care less what it means. I get to see you, you little punk.” He ignored how warbled his voice sounded as he ruffled his younger brothers hair, before wrapping his arms around him once again. “I missed you.”

Genya’s arms embraced him, both of them this time. His mullet tickled the side of Sanemi’s face as he felt Genya bury into his shoulder. As soon as he felt Genya’s shoulders begin to shake, he couldn’t help but let out a very wet sounding laugh. Sanemi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades the same we he used to when they were kids. Genya only began to weep harder at his comfort.

“I missed you too ‘Nemi” Genya pulled away to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, an action that made him appear so much like the little kid Sanemi remembered. “I got your letters.”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t need to apologize so much, I already forgave you.”

“I just didn’t feel like I did it properly the first time, you deserved much better than that. There was some other stuff I didn’t include in the letters.” Sanemi clapped his hand on Genya’s shoulder, commanding their eyes to meet. Genya’s eyes widened in response, unclear on the sudden serious shift. “Tanjiro? Really?”

“Oh uh, well…” Genya’s face immediately flushed, a sight he would usually only see when Genya was interacting with girls.

His blush extended out to the tips of his ears, ears that were much pointier than Sanemi remembered them. A few attempts at sentences tumbled out of Genya’s mouth before Sanemi felt it appropriate to interrupt his little brothers spiral.

“Woah woah Genya its ok.” Sanemi pulled him into another hug. “I dont care, even if it is the brat. For what it’s worth, I can tell you meant a lot to him and clearly he means a lot to you too.”

“Thank you, Nemi.” Genya pulled away from the hug, Sanemi still wasn’t used to having to look up at his little brother. “There’s been someone here for you, for a while now. He actually wont stop talking about you and how great you are.”

“If it’s as much as you, I'd be surprised.” Sanemi laughed and ruffled his younger brothers hair once again. Ignoring the grumble of protest in response. Obviously, Sanemi was holding out hope that there would be someone waiting for him, but he would've been more than ok if it was only Genya waiting for him.

“He said that I could see you first cause I’ve been waiting longer,” Genya smiled, snarking, “but ‘Nemi, Tomioka?”

“Oi, shut it. I love him.” Sanemi laughed at Genya’s mimicry of his original statement.

“I love you too, Sanemi!”

Giyu stood a little ways away, his smile practically glowing. He was waving at the two of them, clearly aiming to get Sanemi’s attention. Immediately Sanemi was running towards him, feeling the desperate urge to reconnect with him.

He couldn’t manage to get the words out of his throat as he approached his lover. So many sleepless nights were filled with yearning, longing to see Giyu again, thinking of what he’d say the next time they were able to be face to face. All of that was forgotten the moment he felt Giyu’s body collide with his.

As soon as their lips connected, Sanemi felt as if he was floating. It didn’t matter that it had been months since he was able to be close to Giyu, both falling back into the same familiar rhythm against eachother.

The long awaited warmth of Giyu’s lips against his own, the feeling of his body underneath his hands as he pulled him closer, his breath ghosting against Sanemi’s face. Sanemi poured every feeling, every though, every sentiment that he had kept stored deep within him during their months apart. The tears returned to his eyes, dripping from his lashes.

Sanemi pulled away, resting his forehead against Giyu’s own. His deep blue eyes gazing warmly into his, looking so much more alive than Sanemi had remembered. When Giyu’s hands cradled his jaw, he hardly noticed the reappearance of Giyu’s hand with how natural they felt against him. His slender hand wiped away the tears from his face

Finally, the yearning, the longing, the feeling of missing half of himself fell away. He felt himself laugh, feeling the almost forgotten feeling of fullfillment flood through him again.

“I promised I’d wait for you.”