Lives are marked by "befores" and "afters." Life before and after their families died. Life before and after joining the demon slayers. Life before and after knowing each other. Genya, whose history cultivated in him an extreme guardedness, now lay surveying the visage before him for any signs of repulsion. Tanjirou had extracted another of Genya's secrets, and although this was Tanjirou of all people, someone who actively encouraged vulnerability and expression, it still unnerved Genya. What a relief then when Tanjirou snuggled closer and said, "I don't know how you survived all that alone. It would've broken me."

"It wouldn't have. You're strong."

"I'm only strong with people around. Being alone is unbearable for me. I'd rather be dead." Tanjirou ran his hand over Genya with utmost tenderness, and in that contact was more than anything he could say. "I'm glad that I won't have to worry about that anymore." Genya returned the touch, but Tanjirou must've sensed something off. "What's wrong?"

"We would've never met each other if it weren't for demons, but it's because of them and our job that we can't really be together. I mean, there's everything else too, like how we might be disowned by everyone and arrested, so I... can't picture any version of us that goes well."

"I don't care what we'll have to do or where we'll have to run. Our story will end happily, and if it takes decades or a hundred lifetimes, then so be it. I'll make sure that you never feel alone again because where you go, I'll follow."

What an incredible, matchless experience: to be the target of Tanjirou's words and affections. The brilliance of his presence illuminated every space and eradicated every blight in Genya's being, and in a voice as soft as the rising moon's milky glow, he replied, "Then I'll wait for you."

There did have to be a separation unfortunately because Genya was still in the middle of Gyoumei's training, while Tanjirou was due for Giyuu's, and they stood on the veranda in an embrace, memorizing the details of each other to cherish and carry with them when they'd be apart. As they grudgingly allowed the distance between them to grow, Tanjirou suddenly whipped around and called, "Ignore that negative inner voice, and listen to me instead. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, so think only about winning."

Think only about winning. It wasn't Sanemi or Gyoumei's words that drove Genya forward; it was Tanjirou's encouragement that ultimately motivated him to take that decisive step, to enter a fight that'd irreversibly alter him. If only he'd been a coward; if only he'd ignored Tanjirou, then he wouldn't be a red smear on the floor, watching a heartbroken Sanemi get dragged away by Gyoumei. A thunderous rumbling sounded as the Infinity Castle began ascending and breaking, and as everything faded to black, a strange combination of dread and exhilaration pervaded Genya, a sign that the blood flowing through him had changed. He later woke in a haze of pain, and he dug through the rubble piled atop him until dots of sunshine peeked through and pricked him. When the stinging didn't relent, he pulled the earth back over himself as a terrible realization sunk in: he'd survived by becoming a demon via Kokushibou. Unfathomably distraught, he lay there for hours, waiting for dusk, and he emerged cautiously when nobody was present. A crow startled him by cawing, "Shinazugawa lives!" and the birds chattered among themselves as they were perched around the battle site. Genya pleaded with them to not tell and sought his own crow, who flew to Sanemi's house with the message, and Sanemi, who'd already endured an immeasurable amount, nearly lost his wits.

Plans were set along with a firm request: Genya would be hidden from slayers who weren't Hashira. That settled, he commenced learning who'd survived, and his chest tightened at Tanjirou's name. He bided the months for Tanjirou's recovery and kept his promise—he'd waited, but could he appear like this? Nobody had seen as much of him as Tanjirou had, so surely everything that they'd shared with each other wouldn't be rendered meaningless that easily. With cautious hope he proceeded, avoiding everyone in the Butterfly Estate, and upon arriving in the yard, a devastating scene awaited him: Kanao was holding Tanjirou's hand and speaking to him. On that gorgeous spring night with the sakura petals delicately drifting to the ground, Genya died once more. For him the relationship had been an unforgettable, life-changing event, but for Tanjirou, who was widely loved and who thus had ample options, it likely was just a fling. Why had he gone through the pains of exposing the deepest corners of his soul only for it to be pointless? Why had he believed their relationship could flourish, especially as a demon, especially compared to Kanao, who was beautiful and brilliant? Beyond miserable he left, resolving to never see Tanjirou again.

For distraction he threw himself into work. Sanemi had become a prizefighter, and his Breathing effortlessly obliterated anyone who opposed him. Accompanying him was Genya, the errand boy for their manager, who was pleased to have less people to pay and therefore never questioned the inhuman strength or why the bouts always had to be scheduled for evenings. One day Sanemi skipped training to dress formally and to ask to borrow a shirt from Genya, who said, "You look nice. What's the occasion?"

"Kamado and Tsuyuri's wedding." Sanemi was quiet awhile as he adjusted his clothes, and unease hovered over both brothers. "You know I only have three years left, and I'm worried about what'll happen with you. It'd be good to have other people when I'm gone. You're sure that—"

"Yes. Please don't tell anyone I'm here."

Lines of concern momentarily creased Sanemi's brow. "Alright. See you later tonight then." Genya would be seeing him much sooner because in the afternoon there came some commotion from the front door, and two people could be heard sprinting toward him, one of who was Sanemi snarling, "Get out of my house!"

The other voice, rough from crying, retorted, "You're unbelievable," and then it sobbed, "Genya!" Entirely unphased by Genya's demonic appearance, the groom-to-be collided with him in a hug and shouted, "Why have you avoided us?! We mourned you! I-I—"

Overwhelmed and at a loss for words, Tanjirou looked to be on the brink of kissing Genya as compensation, but he didn't because Sanemi appeared and said ruefully, "He smelled your shirt that I borrowed. I'm sorry."

Agitation swirled within Genya, but he contained it, removed Tanjirou from himself, and said with forced calm, "You should go back. Kanao will wonder why you disappeared."

"I didn't know you were alive. If I'd known—"

"It's fine. You should go be with everyone."

Tanjirou stood helplessly until Sanemi stepped toward him, and the former pleaded, "Wait! May I visit tomorrow?"

Half of Genya wanted a permanent separation to prevent any further torment, but the other half, a part of him that he hated for his inability to dismiss it, missed Tanjirou. "Only if you don't tell anyone about me."

The following evening was marked by Tanjirou's arrival, and he gifted Sanemi food, went to Genya and began talking like no time had passed between them: "Do you remember Tamayo, the demon doctor who fought alongside us? She had a medicine for curing demons. It was what Nezuko took."

"It only works for demons created via Muzan's blood. Otherwise Yushirou and I wouldn't be stuck like this." Despair colored Tanjirou's features, and he appeared to want to reach toward Genya, who moved to maintain a polite space between them. Tanjirou seemed about to burst with emotion, but Genya spoke as he would to an acquaintance: "So what do you do for work now?"

Tanjirou drooped in defeated acceptance. "I'm a baker. The box that used to carry Nezuko now carries treats. What about you?" After Genya explained his position and that Sanemi's status meant they'd be traveling tomorrow to confront international challengers, Tanjirou expressed awe and initiated his typical questioning, and Genya, try as he might, couldn't refrain from allowing the closeness between them to slowly restore. Tanjirou likewise brightened as they inched toward what they'd once had, and so absorbed was he in reenacting their past that the hours soon surpassed moonset.

Every breath that they drew was rich with happiness and tranquility, but Genya suddenly remembered that this moment and every one spent together hereafter would be incomplete. So he shattered the night with a question: "Don't you have to get up early?"

Tanjirou stood reluctantly, and there seemed to be words perched on his tongue. He swallowed them and said instead, "Will you write to me when you're abroad?"

Genya consented, and since Tanjirou hadn't budged, the former gave a tacit remark that their time was over: "Goodnight, Tanjirou." How heavy Tanjirou's heart must've been as he left, but Genya willed himself to disregard it because he had travel preparations to consider.

Once far from home, the mail became a comfort for Genya, and even knowing the unfortunate reality that they couldn't be as they once were, he still failed yet again to keep his soul from leaking out. The letters grew in unreserve, and along with them he sent gifts from faraway places, warming himself with the imaginings of Tanjirou's joy. The days spent writing and waiting for responses progressed into weeks and then months, and then three bright years had passed in this way: the wonderful, frequent company of each other when Genya was home, and the letters linking them when there were oceans between them. How sweet to lessen the weight of existence with one another, and how bitter for it to be interrupted.

Sanemi's death cut Genya to the core. Genya had lived to bolster his brother, but what purpose did he have now? Amidst his grief a comforting hand touched his arm. Tanjirou, the brightest star in Genya's sky. Maybe it was adequate to live for basking in that shine, even if it was fragmented by their circumstances, so he lived, traveled, worked, all the while gladly serving as a well for Tanjirou to throw his endless thoughts in. The tragic part though was that it wasn't enough—with every vanishing second Genya's tie to the world thinned, and come one New Year's Day, he walked absently in the gray shadows of a normally busy train station, temporarily closed for repairs. Beyond the terminal the city's scattered lights hinted at families and loved ones, huddled together against the cold and celebrating a fresh beginning, and here was Genya, numb with misery and facing another futile year.

Eternity glared upon him, questioning what he'd do with himself tomorrow and the day after and the next century and the next millennium, and then to compound the anguish came a grim realization: it was Tanjirou's final year. All the time that their lives had ran parallel to each other without intersecting struck Genya as shamefully pathetic. Destiny had clearly cast him as an afterthought, someone prone to infatuation to the point of devastation, so why had he foolishly and vainly endeavored to resist that by attaching himself to somebody who was already attached to several others? His reverie ceased when the sky began paling with daybreak, and he reflexively sought shelter but then abandoned his efforts to instead face the growing sunshine.

How long had it been since he saw the sunrise, the beauty of its lavenders and pinks melting together and lined in orange, brilliantly heralding a new day? Burning agony carved through him to where he nearly collapsed, and he gritted his teeth as the sunlight began decimating him. The flare of suffering surged intensely and mercilessly, but it was brief. There gradually came peace because the pain had halted from his nerves being scorched, and then there existed no feeling at all, only a weightlessness, an unburdening of being confined in a physical vessel. No sounds were heard as his ears crumbled, no scents could be perceived, no tasting of his own blood; forgive the past, forget the present, forgo the future. Free at last. Daylight pierced through him, and he savored every last color dancing across his eyes as his sight dimmed to nothing.

When Kanao confessed to Tanjirou, he accepted, believing he wouldn't mind giving her his short time. Resigned to living a lukewarm life for her and their children, he lessened the sting of fate by adhering to Genya because Kanao offered little other than being steadfast and stable. Genya, however, spanned from tenderhearted to ferocious; he initiated things, and most importantly he made Tanjirou feel wanted. The long conversations until sleep threatened him, the winding walks meant to stretch their time together, the letters that he documented every notion in because he wanted to share everything with Genya and Genya alone; it was apparent that after a decade of acquiescing to others, Tanjirou strained against the leash of societal expectations. The alternative tantalized and tortured him, to have someone and something that was once completely his in sight but untouchable. He could smell the desire radiating from Genya whenever they were together, so with midnight's chime announcing the commencement of his last year, he summoned the bravery to address it in a letter lest he take it to the grave.

Genya had received Tanjirou's complaints, ramblings, musings, but here now was a paramount presentation of his emotions that he dared never tell anyone else. He told him he'd never stopped loving him, that he dreaded dying without Genya present, that he'd been cowardly in fearing the consequences of them being together, and much more. After days of revisions, tears, and struggles to preserve his nerve, he sent the fateful letter, understanding it'd cause chaos. A week's patience brought no response, and he frantically penned another message imploring Genya to excuse him if he'd been inappropriate. Silence met that too along with every communication attempt thereafter, and immensely remorseful for ever admitting his truth, he dejectedly submitted to counting his days down for death to liberate him from his dilemma. The horror then when his 25th birthday glided by painlessly; around him his friends and family cheered that perhaps his Sun Breathing shielded him from his mark, but within him the maw of time yawned, vast and bleak.

It's said that a lonely life is a long one and that the ache of being lonesome while surrounded by people is particularly excruciating. Tanjirou had plentiful company to call on, but it was exceedingly rare and difficult to discover and develop a bond where he could truly and deeply join his psyche with another. Was this what he was destined for then, forever biting his tongue and upholding a veneer of "perfect" father and husband? Such were his despairing ruminations as he trudged through shades of blue and into the nearby train station for another mundane workday. Preceding the morning rush, he shouldered his box of baked goods, and that day as he progressed through his standard motions of chatting with regulars and processing transactions, he spotted something extraordinary: Genya, who was human, standing on the tracks, and illuminated as beautifully as a martyr in their passion. Tanjirou's eyes watered at seeing him after months of unresponsiveness, but panic overcame him as a train rushed toward Genya. Because Tanjirou was choked up, the only noise that he could muster was a strangled gasp as Genya was hit, and he involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut but then opened them because the lack of an outcry shocked him. Around him people continued on their way unperturbed, and Tanjirou hastened toward the site, bracing himself for the bloody aftermath, only to find nothing.

For the remainder of the day and through the night, the image haunted him by replaying itself behind his eyelids, and on the following morning he watched the spot anxiously. As scheduled, the first train stopped, blocking his view, and once it exited, there stood Genya, oblivious to everything and outlined in the gold of dawn, contrasting with his somber countenance. Then came the usual second train that didn't stop, and just like yesterday, Genya didn't budge, allowing it to tear through him while nobody noticed. Despite how his stomach churned, Tanjirou made himself watch, and then upon arriving home, he considered whom to ask, settling on Genya and Sanemi's former manager, who said, "He quit coming to work one day."

Why though was Genya human, and why could only Tanjirou see him? With no other link to this individual who was once so dear to him, Tanjirou became obsessed with viewing the daily annihilation, and the more that he saw it, the more radiant that the vision became until next week, a change occurred: Genya turned his head, made eye contact, and gave a small smile as the train consumed him. Tanjirou was enraptured as if he'd glimpsed heaven, and for the next few days, Genya's smile became a beacon motivating Tanjirou to withstand the mundanity of work and fatherhood if only to witness those few seconds of paradise before the train's passing signaled the end. The duller that Tanjirou's life was, the brighter that Genya shone, and with time, the smile became a grin and then a wave and then a beckon.

Who else understood so thoroughly not only Tanjirou's history of loss, toil, and demon slaying but also his soul? So when Genya's expression softened into the affectionate look that he gave only to the one whom he loved, and his beckoning became an extended hand, Tanjirou stepped forward and took it, allowing himself to be pulled down. He was falling, people were finally noticing and screaming, and the train's roar filled his ears, but as Genya caught and embraced him, Tanjirou felt bliss.