Giyuu slid silently along the edge of the village, the hunger and bloodlust boiling in his belly and brain, truly he could feel it throbbing in his fingertips. He must eat, and soon, for he was positively ravenous as he had not eaten anything after the events of the previous day (or days? hunger made time slippery) when he had followed Akaza's command and ran.
He heard the shuffle of feet coming toward him, and he focused on the sound of it, trying to figure out how many feet there were, and if they belonged to humans.
He perceived during the confrontation with Muzan, that the bond between them had been broken. The speed with which he'd been taken from the clearing in the afternoon storm had been stunning, and somehow he'd been moved by that bond to that menacing space that echoed with threat before he had fully swallowed the flower. But when he did, he'd felt a snap, sharp and final, a physical sensation spreading through his body with a ripple of heat that also reverberated in his mind.
And so, knowing the power of the bond and the speed with which a demon bound by it could be moved through space and time, he had no doubt that if another demon came upon him, Muzan would know immediately, and if the other demon was older, if they had trickier Blood Art, he could be ensnared and taken. He feared that Akaza's master would send demons to the four corners of the world to search for him, but that couldn't be helped.
And the fact of the broken tether would do absolutely nothing to save him from Muzan, he knew that too. He'd be crushed and wrung out to extract the power, especially now that he'd had the audacity to defy an order. There would be terrible punishment and then probable death.
So he very much hoped that the footsteps he heard belonged to a human, for he now could hear that it was only one pair of feet.
But also, he found he was anxious (... strange) about exactly what kind of human was approaching, but before he could parse that feeling, a young woman turned a corner and came to a shuddering halt before him.
Many things happened all at once.
The hunger in Giyuu yawned wide, like a great chasm, like inevitability, and he stepped toward her menacingly.
The woman's face contorted in terror and she clutched her mouth with her hand, suppressing a scream (which was the exact opposite of what she should have done).
And then Giyuu was seized by a feeling that was utterly foreign to him (it was shame, a thing that he'd never once felt as a demon) and he recalled, of all things –
the feel of long hair in his hand, of him braiding the hair with great concentration and care, and of the sound of a soft laugh, of a female voice saying, "Don't be silly, it is alright, it's only a braid, you can pull it tighter, you won't hurt me".
– and he recoiled like he'd been slapped, staggering backwards and away from the young woman, who finally saw fit to do the smart thing and dropped her hand to scream. He turned and ran away from her, his hunger forgotten (for the moment), as he fled into the night.
When he was in the woods again, he found a small herd of deer, and he slaughtered the two he could catch, devouring them until there was nothing but a few broken bones left. It felt as though he had eaten stones or sawdust. He felt the weight of the meat in his body and it took off the edge of his physical hunger, but there was much more to it than that, some kind of psychic need for the taste and sensation of human blood filling his mouth and spreading throughout his body. So although he was full, he was not sated. But at least now he could think.
Since he became a demon, he often had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, but it had been rather easy to ignore, as the most pressing thing was always to eat. But now, certain things played at the edges of his mind, and he had a feeling (another one!) of dread that if he were to understand these particular things, it might change something vital, make things more complicated, and so he tried to push it away.
He recalled that he once asked Akaza about the feeling and his answer had been confusing.
"Whenever I'm near this prefecture and there is a festival I go to the same roof to watch the fireworks. I don't know why, but the fireworks are pretty." Akaza made a face when he said it, as though he didn't want to admit it, and his next words seemed harder to get out. "And I feel … something." He'd looked into the dark for a few moments before he shook himself and continued. "I don't know why, but I just go because …." And he'd shrugged and gone quiet. Giyuu had not really known what to make of it.
Soon after, Akaza brought him to that roof to watch the fireworks and while it did not cause Giyuu to feel anything out of the ordinary, he did see the change in his maker, that he turned inward and became quiet and did not ask to fight that night, or the one after that either.
As he stumbled through the woods, the memories of Akaza and the fireworks caused a hollow feeling to bloom in his chest, not a hunger, but an emptiness that he did not entirely understand other than that it was a feeling of lack, or perhaps loss, which was very confusing to him. And he felt regret (this was becoming ridiculous!) that he hadn't been able to free Akaza like he was freed, that Akaza had been held back by the sun and was still under Muzan's control.
He'd seen what Muzan had done to Akaza and now he realized (the feelings were coming so quickly and clearly now that he could no longer find it surprising) that he felt unsettled by what had happened to his maker. And that he was rather angry … at Muzan.
(If Giyuu could access humor - which he might be able to soon – he might! - he'd possibly chuckle at the absurdity of it. That he would be mad at the sadistic king of all the demons for viciously punishing one of his own, quite brutal , lieutenant demons. But Giyuu wasn't there yet - and humor had been quite deeply buried in his human nature – except when it was of the rather dry, cynical variety – so there was that barrier to chuckling over absurdity to contend with as well.) He ruminated on the anger until it turned into something wrathful and he punched a tree in frustration, causing it to shatter and fall.
Akaza was his maker! He was his companion, the only one he'd ever known (in this life anyway, and even as a human in many ways, especially since he'd lost – something … someone – he wasn't sure), and even though he still grated on him quite a lot, still had an appetite for tearing him apart from time to time, the trouble was that he'd seen Akaza's face, both during the fireworks and in the forest when he'd told him to run and he'd seen such strange things – things that intimated that Akaza might feel certain things, and perhaps even felt something on his behalf – that maybe he was worried. (Again, Giyuu's lack of humor relating to irony robbed him of a chuckle.) And thinking back on that morning, Giyuu recognized some feeling in himself that had made him want Akaza to be okay … he had not wanted him to worry, and it was all very inexplicable and perplexing.
"We will be alright, Sensei! You trained us well!" And then later, quieter, perhaps so that Giyuu could not overhear. "Don't worry Sensei, I will watch over him during Final Selection."
Giyuu began to shake. What was going on? What were these voices, these thoughts–
"The poor child seems to be overcome by some form of madness … believing a demon killed his sister …."
– and he smashed his hands against his head, trying to block it out, to get himself to stop … to stop ….
Giyuu wandered for an amount of time that, later, he could not account for. It was mostly due to hunger which brought on a kind of delirium. He had to stop frequently, feeling a sensation that – had he been human – would have been recognizable as something like dehydration. His thinking became sluggish and disordered. But his demonic physiology demanded that he feed his body, to feed his blood, and the mere thought of a human standing before him brought about a feeling of frenzied starving need. It had not yet occurred to him that it would be something he might try to control (because why would he go against his nature?) but he was becoming increasingly aware of certain things . They existed as fragments of voices and images and he had damned feelings about them.
For example there was a wooded mountain somewhere. And this mountain had a boulder. And a house.
"… take the fish and skewer it like this."
There was a man … and also a boy with a scar.
"Be a man."
(What had once been the man in him recalled the boy quite clearly with a poignant sting of regret even as his demonic body practically bowed in desperate hunger.)
He stumbled through the woods night and day as he required no sleep. He ate every forest creature he came across, but he began to suspect that as he ate the things that were not human, they were just turning to ash inside of him and doing nothing more than weighing him down. But he was being driven, and he realized after a while that he was actually going in a specific direction toward something. He and Akaza had never had a territory, but instead roamed freely (or at least moved as freely as creatures who must avoid the daylight can), so it was not to a place in his demonic memory that drew him.
And it was a place.
"... the kitsune mask is a ward. It may help to protect you …."
And then all at once he found himself in a clearing, finally falling to his knees as he had arrived … somewhere that he knew, but also did not.
It was the way the forest quieted that drew Urokodaki Sakonji's attention. He was walking home from the nearby village, and as the silence fell, his hand went to the hilt of the short tanto knife that he carried for protection. He wondered if it was a bear, or possibly a boar, as the presence of a predator might be the cause. Being an inhabitant of the forest himself, he did not feel overly concerned, though he hastened his step toward his house, which was not very far, as he was wise enough to know that avoiding a confrontation with a bear was in his best interest. He supposed he could trade the meat and the pelt if it came to it, but both the killing and dealing with its aftermath was work he did not want at the moment. As he moved into a clearing something caught his eye, and then he stopped dead in his tracks.
A person was sitting in the clearing with their back turned to him. The sun shone down on their head, illuminating hair that fell across their back and shoulders, all the way to their lower back. The hair was thick and black, its texture coarse and unruly, (and Urokodaki knew that it likely shunned being brushed or tamed in any way) and was utterly and completely familiar .
Urokodaki felt a cruel twist of hope in his heart, a feeling he'd grown to know well over the years whenever he stumbled across a child who looked a certain way – be it the set of their features or their eyes or their hair, or even the sound of their voice – and he'd be reminded of another child, and for the barest moment, he'd forget and dare to hope that somehow there had been a mistake . A terrible mistake and that this one was coming home, this one had been spared. But then he'd blink and the face he was searching with such desperate hope would reveal itself to be someone unknown. An innocent child. Not one of his, who were perhaps not entirely innocent, but who were precious nonetheless.
So it was this hope that urged him to take several steps forward without thinking (which was unthinkable for any Demon Slayer, even a retired one) but he could not help himself. For if it was possible, if that bastard Muzan had lied, if this could be his own … if only it could be–
The demon turned.
And Urokodaki's heart fell, but this was different, this was far, far worse than any other time when he'd allowed himself to dare to hope. Because what he was looking at was the personification of what had become his worst nightmare.
He felt the inside of himself rent in two. The larger part of of him considered his tanto knife, the damage he could inflict that might leave the demon incapacitated, calculated the distance to his house, and whether there was a way to make it there and get his Nichirin sword in time.
(The other much smaller part fell headlong into the demon's (into Giyuu's) stare, and considered giving in to despair, wondering if perhaps dying at the hands of one of his children wouldn't be so terrible.)
His resolve hardened, having nothing at all to do with his feelings, (other than ones he had relating to what he thought Giyuu's feelings may have been about being a demon) and he took several steps toward the demon, hand moving to his knife, the decision made, as it was his duty, no matter what or who–
The demon held up a shaking arm, palm facing out.
"Please … stop, stay back," it said in the dead man's quiet, careful voice.
And then the situation fell into full, horrifying, and yet, also, suddenly rather bizarre clarity.
What made it all so stunningly clear, Urokodaki realized somewhat belatedly, was that he could see this demon quite well in the full sun that he was sitting in.
All at once, Urokodaki stilled, taking note of several things at once.
This demon made from the body of Tomioka Giyuu, was sitting in the daylight and not turning to ash. It was also down on the ground, looking as though it was in a state of collapse. And it had spoken in a manner that was rather … odd … for a demon.
Urokodaki was not naive regarding demons. He had been a Hashira for years, and a Demon Slayer for a few years before that. He knew them to be tricky, wily things, some of them possessing incredibly powerful Blood Art aimed to distract and confuse.
And yet.
He had never once encountered one in the full brightness of day, bathed in sunlight.
And so he paused.
They stared at one another for close to a minute, and Urokodaki felt the sweat begin to fall down his back, his hand clenching the hilt of the knife, a hare's breath from striking. He knew what his duty was here, unquestionably. But now things were different, and he felt a stirring of even deeper despair, for if he understood what he was seeing, it meant that the demon had in fact somehow conquered the sun. Which likely rendered his Nichirin sword ineffective at killing it. He could inflict damage, but, as the understanding dawned he felt a wave of nausea and dread.
For this demon could not be killed by any means that Urokodaki knew of. And that was a problem that he had no practical answer to solve.
But Urokodaki endeavored to hold onto a sliver of hope, for it had not been so long ago that the young Hashira this demon used to be had sent another demon to his doorstep. And she had also been a rather odd demon who seemed capable of some unusual things.
Urokodaki was reminded of something he often thought about, that all of them were caught in something like a giant clockwork beyond his comprehension – that each of them was a cog, always turning, impacting one another and all together – a construct of grand proportions that defied understanding.
And so, Urokodaki, the retired Water Hashira, decided that he would ask some questions, to try to understand.
"How are you able to be in the sun?" Urokodaki asked.
The demon's face contorted, and seemed to have difficulty making the words unclench from its throat. "I ate something … a Blue Spider Lily," the demon rasped, appearing to be in pain.
(He was actually in a state of agonizing starvation that had reached new heights since the approach of this human who was so fucking familiar and he wanted to eat him so badly but–
the tengu mask, a hand steadying his hand holding a sword, stoking the fire, laying out his futon, so tired and sore, but safe … safe … safety was … this man–
–and his entire being screamed out in terrible need for food, for blood , but also safety, and he was not quite oblivious and so he willed his body to stay on the ground, to ignore the drive to rise – and grab and rend and tear – shaking and panting despite not needing to breathe.)
"What made you eat it?" Urokodaki asked, feeling unsure of what to make of this information.
"I don't know. It was an impulse … a compulsion."
"Hmm," was Urokodaki's reply as he again thought about cogs and surveyed the demon before him. It retained most of what made Giyuu's face recognizable. It pained Urokodaki terribly to admit this to himself, and now he thought of the cruelty of the curse of demons, but he willed himself to set it aside. He had only to focus on the demon's eyes, to look at the unnatural markings that covered its body that were an abomination, a corruption, of the Breath of Water style that they had once shared, to be reminded that it was no longer his student, no longer one of his children.
"Why did you come here?"
The demon had been looking at him, but it seemed to tear its gaze away, surveying the area around them. It blinked again and again, and its body shook terribly.
"It is … familiar. I don't know … things have been strange ever since I ate the flower. It is safe here," it stated, but it sounded almost like a question, and it looked at Urokodaki again, and he'd be damned but it looked like the demon's gaze was beseeching, as though it was looking for reassurance.
And though Urokodaki knew that in practical terms he could not kill this demon, he also did not think he could offer it safety, because it had come to the home of a retired Hashira, but also, to a man who could not find in himself the ability to abide one of his children's existence as a demon. But, for many reasons, this all made Urokodaki extremely sad, the grief that he'd felt over the loss of Giyuu bleeding to the surface of his heart, and to look at the creature's face, to see in its planes what had once been, he found he could not help himself, could not tear himself away.
"And your memories? Do you –" his voice faltered (something he could certainly be forgiven for). "Do you remember?" It was sentimental madness, but he allowed the question to stand.
The demon's brows furrowed and he was silent for a long time as he stared at Urokodaki. Finally he answered in halting tones that were achingly familiar.
"Akaza said I was something else before. I never knew what he meant, but I'm beginning to think he meant I was human. He said I used to fight with a sword – and when I look at you – I think you had something to do with that. And I remember your mask. And another boy."
Urokodaki could not stop himself from flinching at the mention of Sabito.
(Of course he – it! – would remember Sabito.)
"Who is Akaza?" Urokodaki asked, and now he found he was becoming curious, that this entire bizarre situation was so unreal, that he never in his life could have imagined that he'd be sitting in the sun talking to a demon who was his old student, who was Giyuu – who had been Giyuu .
"He is my maker … or was. He might be dead. Muzan was very angry with him." The demon shuddered terribly, and for the life of him, Urokodaki thought the demon looked bereaved (a common enough expression on Giyuu's face in life) and it looked very real - like it was lost. And not in the way that they sometimes did in the last moments of their lives, after they'd been slain and it seemed as though their old lives flashed before their eyes like some horrifying penance for the devastation they wrought. This was a living demon, feeling sadness over another demon who might be dead. And its maker? For all Urokodaki knew, Muzan held that power to himself. Who was this demon who dared to make another?
And that proved to be a turning point of sorts for Urokodaki. He realized that there were holes in his knowledge, in the Demon Slayer Corps' knowledge, just as Nezuko had been an intriguing missing piece of a puzzle that was revealing itself to be quite vast in its complexity.
And this demon knew things about their enemy … it had value, for information, but also, the fact of its Sunwalking ability and odd nature, the reemergence of its human memories, its apparent feelings of concern for another being, and the break of its bond to Muzan, were all very interesting and possibly useful – but Urokodaki was self-aware enough to know – it was also who this demon used to be, who had his child's face … Giyuu's face. He was not yet ready to hope, and yet, he lost a small measure of the feeling of hopelessness that had threatened to overtake him only a few moments before.
"What is your name?"
"Akaza calls me Tomioka, but I don't know if that is really my name or not."
Urokodaki looked at it solemnly for several moments, trying to decide if he wanted to give away this information to a demon. But the demon was so odd, and even though Urokodaki knew that it was a corruption of Giyuu, it was also not unlike him in many ways.
"It was. Your name was Tomioka."
The demon seemed unmoved by the confirmation, but it did look at Urokodaki with a familiar careful curiosity before it asked, "Do you know me?"
Urokodaki considered denying it, if for no other reason than to spare his own heart.
"I did."
The man with the tengu mask was inside of the house packing a few things for a journey. Giyuu remained outside as he did not think he would be able to control his hunger if he was in an enclosed space with a human. As it was he was cloaked in the man's scent as he'd given him some clothing to wear. It was not terribly ill-fitting, as his body was still shaped like a normal human, though his frame had grown broader, perhaps in order to be able to match his maker's during their frequent battles with one another.
(Though Giyuu knew, to Akaza, he was still nothing more than a mouse to a cat.)
But the man had stilled when he saw Giyuu in the clothes.
"You're … you've grown," he'd said flatly.
Giyuu hadn't known what to say to that so he remained quiet.
Later, when the man emerged from the house, he had a pack and a walking stick.
He regarded Giyuu silently for a time before he spoke.
"We have to travel some distance. It will take several days to get to where we are going." He looked up toward the sky for several moments and appeared to be thinking.
"Where are we going?" Giyuu asked mildly.
The man looked at him and seemed to be weighing his words.
"I've recently learned of the existence of a demon who might be an ally in this situation."
Giyuu did not move, but he felt a thrill of fear (and also sharp disappointment – would the new feelings never end?) at the mention of the other demon.
"Any demon who sees me is a threat," Giyuu stated. "Muzan will see me through their eyes and he will act."
The man appeared to begin to ask a question but thought better of it, so he remained impassive and elected to make a statement instead.
"It is my understanding that this demon is also separated from Muzan, though not in quite the same way as you. But, I suppose we will see when we get to her."
Suddenly a crow landed on Giyuu's head.
The man jerked forward and reached out a hand, commanding sharply with something bordering on panic in his voice. "Kanzaburo! No!"
Giyuu felt the bird scrambling for purchase on his head before slipping forward and landing into his outstretched hands. His claws, fortunately for the bird, were retracted. Giyuu felt the hunger pool at the back of his tongue and the ache in his abdomen leapt up into his chest. He wanted to eat … but eating this thing would do nothing … but just having something in his mouth, something to bite, to crush , to–
"... Giyuu … Giyuu," the bird murmured softly, as it righted itself in his hands, and bobbed its head up at him. "They told me not to look for you anymore. Giyuu … they told me you were lost." The bird wobbled and walked from his hands up onto one of his arms.
Giyuu froze.
… laughing … Kanzaburo, stop it, you are going to get hurt … laughing … the crow falling from his head, landing onto his shoulder, sussurating in his ear … laughing again … the grip of his small gentle talons … black smiling eyes … love Giyuu … and laughing at his sweet, old crow …
(It had been himself! He had been laughing! What did it feel like to laugh?)
"I tried to stop looking, but I never really could and here you are … here you are Giyuu, with Sensei." The bird (apparently a crow named Kanzaburo) crawled right up to his chest and pressed itself (himself) to him, and Giyuu reached up his hands gently – so, so gently – to hold him. He looked down at the crow (so many crows and deer and rabbits and boar and even a bear, but definitely also crows, he'd eaten all of them but … but …) and he didn't understand it, but he just could not think of this crow as food.
And then a terrible and frightening thought entered into Giyuu's mind.
If he could not eat a crow that he had a memory of (and he also did not think he could eat this man either for reasons relating to both memories but also something else that was really starting to piss him off), what the hell was he going to eat?
Giyuu swallowed and cradled the crow closer, placed a hand gently on its back, patting it, and Kanzaburo made a sigh with his voice that sounded relieved.
The feeling that suffused Giyuu when he looked at the crow (Kanzaburo, he reminded himself) was simple. It was not at all like what he felt for Akaza, which, since eating the flower had morphed from an affinity into a complicated tangle of agitated distress and anxiety and concern. It was not as though he forgot Akaza's cruelties, the way that he seemed to relish ripping him apart, but somehow, he could not stop hearing the sound of his voice when he'd commanded him to run, the desperation that it seemed to hold, and it caused a pain to emerge in his chest that he couldn't really wrap his mind around.
But with Kanazaburo, he felt warmth that bloomed and spread through his chest and abdomen and up into his throat, which tightened, but not in anxiety, rather, it was something like relief. He felt a lightness that he'd never known (or perhaps he'd forgotten).
As for the man, he had stopped dead and not moved during the entire exchange and now he appeared to be staring at Giyuu. After a time, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a short length of bamboo that had leathers attached to either end. He tossed it back onto the engawa.
"Let's go," he stated woodenly, and walked on ahead of Giyuu, who turned and followed behind at a distance, still holding the crow, who cooed contentedly in his arms.
"Am I also called Giyuu?" he asked after a while.
The man did not respond for so long that Giyuu thought that perhaps he did not hear him. But then–
"Tomioka Giyuu … that was your name."
"Giyuu," Kanzaburo sighed, nestling closer.
Giyuu had never felt so confused and entranced and ravenous in his (demon) life.
