The young god, freshly wounded by grief, approached Yoriichi with petulant eyes and a sullen frown. The sun god welcomed all visitors, so Giyuu entered his domain and stumbled upon the sun god absorbing the sunlight in his garden, not minding the creatures that perched on his shoulders to bathe under it, too. The sun sprites, endlessly attracted to their creator, nestled near his feet and knees while the others brought more flowers as offerings. In return, he would occasionally feed them a piece of coal Sumiyoshi left for them since it was their favorite snack.
Despite the serene atmosphere, the water god barged in.
"Yoriichi," he announced his presence, scaring off the sun sprites and disrupting the peace.
Though Giyuu rudely intruded his space, he was desperate because if the rumors were true, then he can have Sabito back. If Yoriichi knew the answers to his burning questions, then maybe he can finally obtain peace.
"Do you know how to revive a human?"
The water god looked at Yoriichi with beseeching eyes and waited with bated breath. Oftentimes people compared him to the sun god due to their similar countenance, the way they rarely expressed emotions on their face. Now he understood why Shinobu was frustrated whenever she had trouble reading his mind.
"If I do," he paused, "What would you do?"
Giyuu was honest and never lied, for it was a pact between the two to never deceive each other. "I would bring Sabito back," he replied with a quivering voice. "And my heart would find rest," he whispered.
Yoriichi dashed his hopes and laid them in ruins. "You cannot bring him back," he said. "It's impossible."
Those were the last words Giyuu wanted to hear. The clouds darkened, and the winds grew stronger as he fisted the front of Yoriichi's robe and snarled right at his face. "Why not?!"
He always lost sight of himself whenever Sabito was involved, and Yoriichi understood him with a heavy heart. However, no matter how much he begged, how much he bargained, the peach-haired boy could never return to his arms. Eventually, Giyuu must learn that sad but harsh truth. The god gently removed his hand and wiped away the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes like a mother would do to her son. His heart ached thinking that if Uta was still alive, he would have done the same to his own child.
"When I gave Sabito to you," he said, "He was an orphan, the sole survivor of a family that was brutally murdered by a rival clan."
Giyuu was quiet while Yoriichi continued. "To revive what was lost, you must sacrifice a person that shares their blood and your invulnerability as a god."
As a result, Giyuu would become human and live the rest of his days as a mortal, but even though he was willing to give up everything, including his divinity, reviving Sabito was still impossible because his entire family was dead.
All hope was lost. The small fire that rekindled in his heart was extinguished. With nothing left, he briskly walked away to lick his wounds, but Yoriichi asked him a question. He was at a considerable distance, and yet he still heard him.
"Would you do it?" The sun god asked him with sad eyes. "If he still had a family?"
Giyuu tightened his fists and clenched his jaw. He was angry, but he cannot lose control again unless he wanted another stern lesson from Yoriichi. However, his tongue had a mind of its own. His face darkened and gave the sun god the impression that he was possessed by an evil spirit, reminding him of the moment Michikatsu forcefully separated their bond and escaped to the opposite end of the earth.
"I choose Sabito," Giyuu said with absolute conviction, "And I would do anything to bring him back."
Yoriichi shuddered from the certainty of his statement. Right after the water god left, the sun god knelt down and comforted the quivering sun sprites by petting their heads, wishing for Sumiyoshi's swift return. When the human found the sun god, greatly saddened, he took it upon himself to listen to his woes.
"I am a man of no worth," Yoriichi confessed and closed his eyes as Sumiyoshi's kind hands rubbed his back with soothing strokes.
Not only had he failed in saving Uta from Muzan's claws, he had also failed Giyuu.
"But I hope," he spoke from the bottom of his heart, afraid of the monstrous acts Giyuu would have committed if Sabito's family were still alive, "I hope that child would never have to make that decision again."
XXX
Giyuu took a sharp intake of breath. His thoughts ceased. His breath halted. His blood froze.
Denial took control.
"He's not dead," he said.
He was not kind to those who dared to speak such a crass and terrible joke even if they were bawling on his doorstep.
"Leave, Mitsuri," he said.
Big, wet tears slipped through the corners of her eyes.
"He's dead," she repeated and explained what she witnessed, how Tanjirou was approaching her domain until an arrow struck Murata and corrupted him.
Since Tanjirou was the closest human available, he was targeted as his first meal. Mitsuri continued to sob into her handkerchief with anguish.
"It was too late for me to save him," she continued. "The only thing I could do was put Murata out of his misery."
Giyuu listened to her account with stuttering resolve, his heart dropping towards the earth at breakneck speed. The girl standing behind the goddess kept staring at him, leaving him more unhinged and unbalanced. He needed to confirm Mitsuri's words with his very own eyes.
Tanjirou is not dead, he repeated in his mind like an endless mantra and dashed to his garden. When his eyes laid upon his pond, they darted around to find his bride, an image of his sweet visage to relieve him of his worries, but he was unaware of Mitsuri's interference as the woman took advantage of his distress. Expecting to see Tanjirou's reflection on the surface, all Giyuu received was a blank slate. A blank slate meant that the person he intended to see was already deceased.
The water god crumpled into the ground, heaving heavily with the intense pain of a thousand knives digging into his chest. Death would have been a lesser punishment, but instead Mitsuri ripped him apart and left him a hollow husk. The world lost its color, and Giyuu could only bleed dry. Yet, despite everything, he was not even given the chance to grieve properly because gods were cruel, sometimes crueler than Giyuu could imagine.
Mitsuri, who disappeared after seeing his depressing state, returned to his front doorstep the next day with the same black-haired girl from before. They found Giyuu where they left him, his hands dipped in the water while he listlessly withered into a soulless shell. The blue in his eyes were muted and dull, and the water seemed murky and unclean.
Tanjirou was tempted to break the rules, to run to his husband's side and kiss away his tears, but Mitsuri restrained him with her powers and continued her game.
"Giyuu, you cannot stay like this forever," she said.
Giyuu was unresponsive regardless.
She then pushed Tanjirou forward, who stumbled a bit before regaining his balance, and proceeded to say, "I have found your match. Her name is Sumiko." Her voice was clipped with impatience. "She is yours."
When Mitsuri introduced Tanjirou as the new replacement bride, his skin prickled with unease under Giyuu's glare, a glare he had never received until now. His voice was icy and cold, enough to freeze the human in his spot.
"I don't want her," the god hissed as he slowly stood to his full height, his hair billowing around him. He then said, "Tanjirou is the one I want."
Despite the menacing aura surrounding him, Mitsuri was unfazed. The frostbitten air collected between the two gods numbed Tanjirou's nose and congested his throat. For a few tense moments, the human stood there, anxious, until Mitsuri backed off and turned around.
"Fine," she said impassively while her scent turned sour and tart. Her eyes flickered to Tanjirou. "I guess you won't mind that she dies."
In a flash, Giyuu whipped around with shock coating his features, for he was far too kindhearted to allow an innocent life to walk to their death. Even though Sumiko was a complete stranger, somebody absolutely undesirable to the water god, Giyuu was not a heartless individual who gained gratification from allowing another human to die, especially if their death was his fault.
"Mitsuri, you cannot do that."
"Why not?" she challenged him. "I have no need for her, and if I returned her to her village, they'll kill her. It's better if I give her a merciful death."
The gods were aware of Giyuu's fondness towards mortals, but Tanjirou understood his compassion more than anybody else. After all, this is the man he loves, and that compassion of his made him even more devastatingly attractive to Tanjirou. Mitsuri's intent to manipulate Giyuu into keeping Sumiko was obvious. Despite her insidious tactics, Giyuu was not resentful towards his new bride because Sumiko was innocent. Instead, he glared at the goddess of love and her impish grin, cursing her wily ways and her infatuation for drama.
"Ah, I forgot to mention," she leaned forward and tapped Sumiko's throat. "This girl cannot talk," she informed him. "So I understand if you wish to discard her," she said with a glimmer within those spring green eyes.
Affronted by her words, Giyuu finally ordered her to leave, for he was tired of playing along with her ploy.
"I see you've made your choice," she said.
With a promise to return in a couple weeks, the blossoms from Giyuu's garden swirled around the goddess, encasing her with their petals and leaves until the woman disappeared without trace besides the pile of flowers at the spot where she stood. The water god sighed as if he aged another thousand years and turned to his new bride to instruct her to find one of the kakushi. However, this triggered the memory of Murata leading Tanjirou back to his estate on their wedding day, and suddenly he felt emptier than ever.
His bride and friend was dead, the corruption was still a threat, and he was bound to a woman he doesn't want. The urge to dig to the deepest parts of the ocean was strong, but unfortunately, he was tied to his duty to protect this human and the rest of the world from Rengoku's flames. The despair felt like a log wedged in his throat or a boat that cannot move in stagnant water.
The tears came unbidden – never stopping, never ceasing. Crushed by the weight of his grief, he crumbled to the ground, not caring of his pathetic appearance when he already felt like the most pathetic being in the world. After all, he was unable to protect the people he cherished the most.
Affected by his tears, Tanjirou cried as well, his hand stretching out to touch his shoulder, but his other hand moved on its own and stopped himself. He instinctively knew that his touch would have been a mistake. Even though Giyuu was the closest he had ever been in months, the distance between the two had never felt so apparent until now.