He wakes up slowly on that day, his mind swaying as it comes to grips with reality and not the pain.

He feels the bandages around his face and fumbles around clumsily. His hands land on the soft bedding he was resting on, half blind, he comes to his senses. He seeks balance and finds none as his vision blurs and his lungs constrict.

"Where is he?" Giyuu chokes out between gasping, panicked breaths, "Sabito, where is he?"

The unnamed people by his bedside look at each other in a distanced sorrow before looking back at him. Their mouths move, trembling with unshed pity and awkwardness, reminiscent of a thousand people he's seen before, always speaking from a grief that doesn't resonate with them.

What they say next comes to him from underwater like a torrent, a tsunami roaring in his mind. He can no longer hear anything else they say, the echo of Sabito's touch lingering on his skin.

He walks back to the home he and Sabito once shared, his limbs numb and his heart heavy. He walks by familiar roads, looks at people he used to greet with a smile. These people avoid him now, seeing the forlorn expression on his face and the stilted way he moves and they must think he's a ghost.

Oh, how he wishes that were true.

He eventually reaches the top of the hill and spots Urokodaki's house at the edge of the path. Despite his best efforts, he can't bring himself to go inside.

His teacher has waited anxiously for his and Sabito's return and he can't even manage the courage to go inside.

Once upon a time, he was so happy imagining their return to Urokodaki's side. He would daydream about the pride Urokodaki would have in him and Sabito upon their success. Now their dreams are dashed, and there's only emptiness by Giyuu's side.

In the end Giyuu doesn't have to do anything, because Urokodaki spots him first. Urokodaki looks up at him from the doorway of his home and despite the Tengu mask Giyuu sees how his body relaxes, excitement rising at seeing his child return. But Giyuu can't move, can't move to greet Urokodaki with shouted cries of elation at their victory. And it is then that Giyuu knows that Urokodaki has figured it out. He sees Urokodaki deflate, noticing how Sabito failed to appear at Giyuu's side.

And he's running now, running to Giyuu's place on the top of the hill. And Giyuu is falling now, falling to his knees and he starts to cry-

He's shaking on the top of that lonely hill, with his master's trembling arms around him. And Giyuu cries because he can't stop the tears, and he can't forget as he has returned to the one place where he thought they would be forever, that Sabito would be his eternity.

Urokodaki is quiet when they enter the house together. He motions for Giyuu to sit down, draping a blanket over his shoulders before going to prepare tea. Giyuu wants to do anything, bow before his mentor and father figure ten thousand times, weep at his feet, begging for forgiveness, uttering thousands upon thousands of apologies. He could carry out any punishment ordered of him, he could cut himself with his own blade, commit Seppuku, and watch as ribbons of his blood seep from the slit on his belly. Anything to atone for the sin of being alive while Sabito was not.

But Urokodaki asks nothing of him and Giyuu does the same, his voice dying in his throat. Giyuu sits there, limp, motionless, like a puppet on show and Urokodaki doesn't bother to tug the strings back to life. All Giyuu feels now is a bone deep exhaustion that strangles all the words that brim to the edge of his lips. He knows nothing he will say will ever be enough.

Instead he remains on the ground where Urokodaki left him, still and cold, even with the blanket around his body. There is no warmth here without Sabito.

Sabito was Urokodaki's star pupil and was always the one they thought with certainty was going to survive. Giyuu remembers how Urokodaki praised Sabito's swordsmanship and called him the best student he's ever had the pleasure of taking in. He was always supposed to be the one to live. Instead, he got Giyuu, and now both of them were disappointed.

Urokodaki must be deeply ashamed of Giyuu, a failure of a student who didn't manage to slay even a single demon. How could someone like him be worthy of passing Final Selection?

Sabito, Urokodaki's brave and cunning fox, one that should've been able to hunt forever became prey to a demon, and it was all Giyuu's fault.

Soon his sword will arrive, along with a demon slayer uniform but none of it was worth it without the one person he wanted to be a demon slayer with. It has barely been days since Sabito's death and the world seems so quick to move on and forget him, the days and nights passing on without remark on the way Giyuu's world stopped. The demon slayer corps will come here, offer their empty regrets and give the sword and uniform to the person who never deserved it.

Sabito died nameless, one of thousands before him, dying alone in the final selection. Sabito deserved better than to be a footnote in someone else's story. Deserved to have his image scattered across the stars and name littering every scrap of paper and on everyone's tongue. Now he sits lonesome, uttering his name over and over like a wish. Once upon a time he wanted to indulge in selfishness, be the only one who calls Sabito with love in his voice, now he sees the burden of being the only one who can say it, lest he fade from existence all together.

Giyuu spends most of his time hiding away from Urokodaki. Urokodaki doesn't say much of anything, only quietly telling Giyuu to eat before leaving him alone. It leaves Giyuu feeling nauseous at every interaction, ever confirmation of Urokodaki's disgust. It's no wonder Urokodaki can't stand to be around him. Urokodaki blames him and Giyuu has no one to blame but himself.

He sobs and collapses pathetically by the place where Sabito and him slept when Urokodaki is out chopping wood, alone for no one to hear him.

He feels worn out all the time now, stripped of everything that could identify him as living.

He doesn't want to remember. There are too many memories in this house and Urokodaki steps around him, like porcelain about to tip over. Every reminder of their past sends a fresh wave of grief over him that leaves him gasping for breath as he drowns.

He feels like an intruder in this sacred place, an act of defilement upon Sabito's memory.

He can't be here

Giyuu walks up the mountain where they used to train. Urokodaki watches him from the doorway of the house, almost forlorn underneath his tengu mask. They should've been hiking up this mountain together, hand in hand, Sabito and Giyuu.

Instead Giyuu makes his journey alone, his wounds freshly aching as he travels up the mountain. The thin air and mounting pressure would be no trouble normally but while healthy enough to travel, the remains of his wound linger, evident in the old bandages he sports. But he eventually makes it to the top of the mountain, where the bamboo grows tall and sturdy, and the pools ring clear, fed by clean springs.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, him and Sabito splashing each other with water, tackling each other in the stream, their clothes soaked and their smiles infectious. He remembers steadying himself on the rocks of the riverbed, his arms on Sabito's, their skin cold and slicked with snow melt.

He feels like he's drowning. His lungs fill up with the tears he refuses to shed.

It hurts to breathe.

He holds back his pain along with the weight of words he'll never get to say.

The water never felt so heavy, not when he was with Sabito. He lingers by the forest they used to train, where the air was too thin and the mountainous ground treacherous.

All he can do is linger.

He watches as the world moves on around him, but grief keeps him rooted. He realizes that Urokodaki's home is a tree and like a tree, he needs to cut the branches.

He looks at the boulder they split. He glances at the patches of flowers where they made crowns for each other, adorning each other with wilted remains of life as if to announce that to each other, they were beautiful, worthy of decoration.

He looks down at his hands, rough from training, and wonders if Sabito would still find them worthy of beautiful creation. Giyuu can no longer see flowers held delicately in hands, he only sees the slick remains of Sabito's blood on his fingertips.

His skin feels numb where it's touched the cold water, kneeling in the rocky riverbed like a prayer. But he knows the gods will not answer, the gods didn't keep Sabito safe, he has no faith in their protection. His arms curl around himself as bitter tears fall down his cheeks and create ripples in the water below.

His breath shakes as he tries to grasp a hold on his uncontrollable emotions. His heart clenches anew as he tries to bury the emotions deeper and deeper. Hasn't he cried enough? He did not deserve to mourn constantly, feeble minded as a newborn, unbecoming of the man Sabito dreamed to be.

As he sits in the water, he knows what he must do. He may become a demon slayer but he will carry a piece of Sabito everywhere. Hold Sabito's memory close to his heart and bring his strength with him into the mission Sabito cared so deeply for, so much so that he died for it.

Giyuu stands up in the water, his clothes dripping water and his movements sluggish from the cold. He wrings out his sister's red haori as he steps back out into the forest, ignoring the flowers he and Sabito loved.

As he leaves, he thinks he hears a fox cry, howling mournfully into the sullen mountain air.

He sews the pieces of Sabito's haori onto Tsutako's, watching the last remnants of the people he loved most become one. His hands shake and he stabs the needle and pulls the thread through, ignoring the sting of tears on his cheeks.

He slips the haori on his shoulders and tries not to let the finality of it all get to him. He stands tall, back straight, and doesn't let his mind think of the two people who both sacrificed their lives for his.

"I'm leaving now" Giyuu forces the words out of his mouth, offering Urokodaki a shaky smile. He owes his teacher that much.

Urokodaki does not seem surprised but seems saddened all the same. He looks as though he wants to protest, to ask Giyuu to stay longer but Giyuu won't change his mind. Giyuu can't fix it, can never undo his mistake, never will.

"Write if you can?" Urokodaki asks instead, biting back the words he wishes he could say but knows Giyuu will not hear.

Giyuu grimaces, "I'll do my best."

Urokodaki's shoulders fall and Giyuu tries not to let the immense guilt overwhelm him but it has to be done.

Giyuu bows, low and steady, before rising anew to meet his gaze. Urokodaki tries to find any semblance of the child he once knew and finds he can put no name to this ghost that has taken Giyuu's place.

Giyuu turns his back on the mountain where he grew up and does not look back, and does not think of Sabito. His face settling into a sad and distant blankness, he tries not to think of broken promises.

It gives him courage he says, as the cloth weighs heavily on his back, a reminder.

It gives him courage he says, as he remembers this is the only thing he has left of them.

It gives him courage he says, as demon blood soaks its cloth and he pushes the fabric back under the water, watching the red surround his hands.

It gives him the reason to live.

This is the burden he must bear for being alive. He is a parasite, stealing life from those he loves most. This is divine punishment, ordained by the Buddha himself.

He trains vigorously until he splits open wound after wound, breaks bones, and collapses from the exhaustion. What happened that day, what his weakness cost him, cannot happen again. He won't let it. He ignores the words of those around him and focuses his life into perfection.

The cycle repeats and yet he still lives. He goes out on missions and kills demons and wears that haori everytime. With every strike of his sword, he remembers Sabito guiding him through the stance and imagines the motions in Sabito's form.

It's like you're here with me.

It's not the same, but it's all he has.

When he does dead calm, he enters a state of complete tranquility and he feels still in a situation where he would otherwise be in constant movement. Sometimes, when the move brings him closer to death, he can see Sabito standing in the water.

Sabito is a drop in the pond, and his presence ripples outwards but Giyuu can never reach him. When he uses dead calm, it is but an instant, he cannot move forward and so he never gets closer. He sees that ghost and wonders what fragments of memories make him up and if it's just as broken as its master.

Stay with me he wants to say.

But he knows it isn't real.

He slices through the demon's head, cold and final, and wonders if Sabito looked upon his strength with disgust or pride.

He wonders if Sabito is more memory or ideal, he thinks he can see Sabito clearly in his mind but can't even tell himself what Sabito would say to him. Giyuu knows he won't listen.

And a part of him thinks he's deified Sabito in his mind, uses Sabito as a way to hold himself to an impossible standard, a sort of torture, self-punishment, a criminal paying for their crimes with no redemption to be had at the end.

When will you stop punishing yourself? Urokodaki had written to him in a letter.

Giyuu never wrote back.

One day he kills a lower moon, he closes his eyes, standing there where the ashes of the demon's body drifts upward into the sky.

He sheathed his sword and made his way back to the demon slayer headquarters. He does not reflect on what he did, there is no pride, no excitement to be had at his skills or accomplishments. They mean nothing, only a fraction of what Sabito could've done by his time, a potential he cut short.

"I cannot be the water hashira" Giyuu bows his head low, shame coloring his demeanor.

"Why not?" Ubuyashiki asks, his smile aimed at a distant nothing.

Giyuu feels himself freeze. "I…it should go to a worthy candidate."

The master simply hummed thoughtfully, staring off in the distance with an expression that always made it seem as if were wise beyond his years, that he knew everything Giyuu didn't.

"And why do you believe it is impossible for you to be that worthy candidate?" Ubuyashiki's smile doesn't change, but something akin to amusement dances in his eyes.

Giyuu grits his teeth. "I'm not"

I never will be

Giyuu wants to tell him so badly that the words burn in his throat. He wants Ubuyashiki to know what sort of monster he would be letting into his closest ranks, wants the rejection to hurt him, wants the pain to blind him. In the end he says no more, staring at the ground, a hand tightly gripping Sabito's side of his haori. Giyuu wants Ubuyashiki to accept his answer but all Ubuyashiki does is smile, that understanding kind smile, one that usually fills Giyuu up with warmth is now a source of dread.

"You are worthy Giyuu" Uburashiki assures him, in that endlessly patient way, "More worthy than you are willing to accept."

Ubuyashiki's words are what he believes to be the truth, Giyuu knows this.

Giyuu knows this.

Giyuu isn't sure if he'll ever believe it.

"Why are you like this?" Someone spits at him in disgust, maybe it's Sanemi.

It doesn't matter, hate and love blur together until he can't recognize either. There are so many people to fight with but none of them are the person he misses most.

Giyuu is still, he's numb, a lull. A man as empty as him might as well be dead.

He sits with the other Hashiras, a cuckoo in a garden warbler's nest.

He's not stupid, he notices the glances the hashira give him, of curiosity, of pity, of loathing. He wants to be friends with them, he does, but he's just so unworthy-

But he's also just so lonely.

Giyuu knows that there's nothing he can do in the end. Everytime he walks into a Hashira meeting, sees the patiently waiting smile of the Master and the expectant stares of the Hashira, he knows that he doesn't belong.

He shouldn't be here, yet here he is, stealing the space that should've gone to a worthy candidate.

The words lay heavy in his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks away, acts aloof, pretends it isn't hurting him.

He walks the world with his head underwater, hoping that the despair drowns him. He has spent most of his life wishing for the agony to swallow him whole.

Everyone who's ever loved him has died protecting him.

Maybe that's why he's pushed Urokodaki away, never wrote to him, he's afraid of what it means for him to stay close. He'll just end up losing him too.

He closes his eyes and imagines Urokodaki standing in front of him, blood spilling on the ground as Giyuu holds the last person he has left in his arms. He doesn't think he could stand it.

Giyuu is empty, hollowed out with the remains of whatever he used to be. He can be as turbulent as the high seas and as calm as the clear ponds. As unpredictable as water, he can find no ground to stand on.

He deserves to be alone.

He closes his eyes and the wave takes him under.

Kanzaburo meets him at the gate when he tells Giyuu the news. He's just a crow but he seems forlorn all the same.

The news of Rengoku's death hits him in ways he hadn't expected.

He and Rengoku may not have been the closest of the hashira but Giyuu almost felt like a cherished friend to him. Rengoku was one of the only hashira willing to talk to him like a person. He didn't treat Giyuu like a plague to be avoided.

He thinks about the other hashira, Tengen and Mitsuri especially, who were closer to him and wondered how they must be suffering.

Giyuu's heart aches when he thinks of smiles and glances traded between them like invitations but never taken up on. He finds himself wishing he spent more time with Rengoku while he was alive. He never voiced his wishes while Rengoku was alive, instead he let those wishes settle on his shoulders, just another burden to bear, his and his alone.

Rengoku's death reaffirmed what he always knew, the life of a demon slayer was a death sentence. He lived it, watching his fellow demon slayers die on the battlefield over and over again, yet he survived.

He lives through another friend's death, a friend much stronger than him, and each time he wonders why it wasn't him instead.

He's just some crazed little boy, crying wolf as the demon tore his sister apart. The villagers smile at him placatingly, the edges of their smiles straining and irritation seeping from their eyes. He is insignificant, an insect calling for a bird to save him and instead they send him right into the bird's mouth.

This is the false salvation they promise him, luring him into a scheme that suited everyone but him.

They try to say he's crazy, mentally ill, deranged and they send him off to a distant relative doctor to become their problem. They tell him they just want to fix him, with venom dripping from their words.

So he watches as the village shuns him along with his sister's fiance, watches as they twist victimhood into blame until he believes it too, and knows that he no longer belongs.

He runs away, wants to escape the fate they've chained him into. His legs burn and his lungs ache, his throat begins to pound in tandem with his heartbeat. He doesn't remember when it begins to snow, when the air around him starts to thin, when it dawns on him that he's lost.

He can't breathe.

He feels the world around him darken and remembers pain as his head hits the ground.

He remembers feeling as if he's burning, his skin sweating from fever. He remembers shivering violently under covers he does not remember being placed on him. He remembers flashes of people, his sister, his parents, a man in a mask, a boy with peach colored hair.

Later when he comes to, he finds that he's been adopted by Urokodaki and his student Sabito.

Urokodaki is a kind old man, sympathetic to Giyuu's story and one who believes him without question. He explains what he knows about demons and about the demon slayer organization he once was a part of. Now he's a trainer, sending new recruits to join their ranks, which is how Sabito came to be in his care.

Sabito, a boy like him, who lost his family to demons, who shares a similar grief in his eyes but a spark of determination and resolve that lights something inside Giyuu. It feels warm, like a hug, even when passion of that magnitude can feel burning, it doesn't, not to him, never to him.

Peach hair and lavender eyes fill his vision and Giyuu thinks he could get lost in the color forever.

Sabito and Giyuu train on top of that mountain every day. Giyuu feels the adrenaline course through his veins, the sheer delight as he evades Sabito's blows with a mere dodge. He smirks at Sabito's frustration, his steps feather light as he dances around Sabito.

Sabito grins then and lunges in at an opening, Giyuu's eyes go wide as he feels the impact of a hit on his ankle and he tumbles.

Sabito pins him down and looks at him expectantly, mockingly waiting for Giyuu to confirm a yield. Giyuu sighs and yields, looking back up at Sabito with an irritated expression.

He follows Sabito's eyes as they trail down from the top of his face down to his lips.

Giyuu swallows and looks away, face flushing.

Sabito's hair is the color of peaches, wild and untamed like a fox. His eyes are as lavender as the wisteria blooms that decorate the land. He is hopeful and bright but with a foul attitude and strength of mind. Giyuu has grown fond of these parts of him.

They are Urokodaki's little foxes, destined to play and dance in the mountain forest for eternity. The Inari and the Kitsune, but unlike them they are not Kami. They are just mortals, with no purpose other than to die for whatever cause they choose to die on.

Giyuu has never smiled as much as he does when he's with Sabito.

Giyuu loved him.

But now Sabito's gone and that love doesn't have any place to rest. So instead it weighs down on him, strangling, pulling him under when all he wants to do is breathe-

Sabito never knew the entirety of how much Giyuu loved him, there were not enough words, enough glances, enough laughter in the world that could encapsulate the feeling. He wanted to spend his entire lifetime showing Sabito he loved him, but he never will.

It was a bright and sweltering summer day when Giyuu made a mistake he still regrets to this day.

They had raced to climb the top of a tree, meeting each other on a strong branch that could carry both their weights. They dangled their feet and watched the animals scurry on the forest floor below.

Giyuu watches the way the sunlight catches in Sabito's hair and suddenly feels self-conscious about his own. He nervously pulls at the unruly parts of his hair that never quite lay flat and wonders why he cares so much when he's never cared before.

Sabito looks at him then with a confused frown, his lips pulled into a slight pout and Giyuu thinks that he's beautiful. His clothing is covered in dirt and there are scratches on his hands from the rough bark and Giyuu still wants him to look at him forever.

A strange bout of courage overcomes him and Giyuu kisses Sabito's cheek, his lips lightly grazing Sabito's scar. Giyuu pulls away, slowly opening his eyes to a stunned Sabito. For a second Giyuu thinks that he's done it and they're through but then Sabito grins, bright and happy like the sun sneaking through trees to the forest floor.

Giyuu exhales in relief, but before he can apologize Sabito stops him.

Sabito leans in, as headstrong and forward as he always is but there's something so gentle about the way his hand cups Giyuu's cheek and the way his other hand meets Giyuu's own, clasping tightly, as if Giyuu was something fragile and loved. And then Sabito's kissing him, his lips fiercely meeting his as if to say we belong to each other.

Giyuu relishes the feeling, drinks him in like honey being poured down his throat. He thinks he tastes the persimmons they had earlier, their fragrance lingering on Sabito's tongue.

But then Giyuu pulls away, reminiscent of the cowardice Sabito always hated, his eyes burning with tears unshed. Sabito looks at him, in that understanding way that only Sabito can achieve, but heartbroken nonetheless.

"Sabito I'm sorry" Giyuu knows that look on Sabito's face and his heart plummets.

He wanted to take it back immediately, anything to take away the hurt in Sabito's eyes.

"Don't be Giyuu I-...you've done nothing wrong" Sabito looked down in shame, "I just got my hopes up, I didn't mean to force you."

The worst part is that Giyuu enjoyed it, he wanted more, but he knows he can't.

There is no future for either of them like this. They will grow up, and realize that eligible young men need wives and children and legacy. They will do what men need to do and grow apart and be forced to forget the feeling of another man's lips on their own.

Even beyond that they will be demon slayers, they will risk their lives every time they go out on a mission. When they save lives, the demon slayers bring themselves closer to death each time before finally succumbing to the cause. Love will mean nothing in the face of it all.

"No Sabito, it's not like that" Giyuu pleads and he hates how his voice breaks, hates how Sabito won't even look at him.

Look at me Sabito please, can't you see that I want it too? but I'll always think of you before me

Giyuu turns away, fingers digging into the log they're sitting on. "I do want this, want you, more than anything...but you and I both know that it's hopeless"

"You've never known me to be a coward Giyuu" Sabito is frustrated with him, he knows, sees it in the way he grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

"You've never known me to be strong Sabito," Giyuu counters, his fists tightening.

"I've always thought you to be strong!" Sabito's voice sounds pleading, incredulous even, but Giyuu can't bring himself to listen.

Giyuu's shoulders slump in defeat.

"Never as strong as you" Giyuu whispers, his eyes torn.

Something in Sabito's eyes hardens, feels the resentment before it builds up, tension coiling in the pit of his stomach.

"You started it and now you can't finish it?" Sabito can no longer hide the anger in his tone and Giyuu flinches.

Giyuu sighs, sounding weary, like a prayer that will never reach heaven, "Sabito we both know which one of us will flourish and which one will linger."

You've always been the strong one, Sabito

You're strong Giyuu, stronger than you give yourself credit for

Giyuu reaches for Sabito's hand, Sabito turns away.

They don't talk about it. They go about their days as usual, training and playing and laughing with each other like normal. But sometimes they'll be play-fighting and Sabito will tackle him to the ground, hands tight around Giyuu's wrist. If Giyuu laughs at him to let go with a transfixed expression in his eye and Sabito takes longer than usual to release him, awe adorning his face, they don't talk about it.

All those moments can do is linger.

Time goes on and things change yet stand still. It's fine, Giyuu tells himself. Giyuu can continue pretending, continue to swallow his feelings down into his ribcage.

He never thought he would live to regret it.

Giyuu wears exhaustion like his Haori, constant and weighing. There is no one to live for other than himself and he can't even bring himself to do that.

He wants to live for Urokodaki but Urokodaki was better off without him anyway. If he stays too long he'll remind both of them of their own grief.

He remembers the way his feet crunched on the forest floor, dead leaves flooding his path. He remembers Sabito's laugh, knows each sweet sound like a scar that never fades. Burned into his mind and made never to let go.

He thinks he felt the beginning wisps of affection that hadn't yet spiraled into love.

They both reached an intimacy with each other that Giyuu had when he first felt something different.

He loved Sabito then but something had changed, a new warmth that tempered the coals of the hearth of his heart. He knows Sabito felt the same. But then Sabito kissed him and like a coward Giyuu ran away, just like he always did.

He was alone, a fate he deserved. He was standoffish, unable to communicate without being quiet and blunt. He isolated, he pushed people away, he could no longer make friends without thinking about the result of the last person who was his friend.

Tanjiro and Giyuu have left the restaurant when Tanjiro asks more about Sabito. Tanjiro, the boy he once saved, when the act of Nezuko protecting him convinced Giyuu of her humanity. Sometimes he thinks of his sister doing the same, tears in her eyes as sacrificed herself to protect him. He remembers carrying her bloodied haori in his arms as the only person left of his family leaves him behind.

Tanjiro is a kind child but stubborn as well, wearing Giyuu down till he feels raw and open. He thinks back to the conversation they had on the bridge, remembering the touch that Giyuu had long pushed out of his mind. Sabito's hand reached out to him, keeping him afloat when all he wanted was for the water to claim him.

Tanjiro is walking with a hunched over posture, the noodles he consumed finally catching up to him in his slow gait. Tanjiro looked back and forth between the dirt road and Giyuu, seemingly hesitating on something.

"Giyuu?"

"Yes?"

"When my family died…it hurt but it never made me want to stop remembering" Tanjiro looks at him earnestly, "So why did you?"

They keep walking and Giyuu stays silent, he doesn't know how to answer that, knows that he should've brought Sabito closer to his heart instead of shutting him out.

"Because I would give everything to never feel that way again even if it meant feeling nothing at all" Giyuu finds himself saying, the regret weighing heavy in his words.

"But don't you think Sabito would've thought that feeling the grief is worth it? So you would come out of the other side healed?" Tanjiro asked him, concern clouding his eyes, "He wouldn't want you to punish yourself."

"Is it more about what he wanted or is it more about what I deserve?" Giyuu's words are bitter, poisoning his insides.

Tanjiro stares at him then as if understanding something fundamental and it tears at Giyuu, he's not used to being seen, not since Sabito.

"You really loved him…didn't you?" Tanjiro's smile is so sad, so full of empathy and it aches.

Giyuu doesn't answer, the sweetness of the truth cloying on his tongue.

"You don't need to answer that" Tanjiro assures him, the easy kindness of character making something sour recoil in Giyuu's stomach.

Tanjiro didn't need to answer that because he already knows that Giyuu's answer is I do, I don't think I could ever stop.

They won, they've defeated Muzan. All of them who've joined the demon slayer corps for the purpose of avenging their fallen loved ones can finally be at peace.

Once again he is a survivor, one of the last ones standing and it's gotten easier but a part of him still feels as if he doesn't deserve it.

Gyomei was the strongest of them all and he died ensuring their future. All of the Hashira, Shinobu, Mitsuri, Obanai, Muichiro were all the most powerful of their generation and they all paid the price. Only he and Sanemi are left and he knows better than anyone that it's harder to be the one left behind.

He lost his arm in battle, can feel the phantom pain of a limb that should be there. His body is grasping for normalcy only to find it's struggling to adapt. But adapt he will because that's all Giyuu's ever done.

Giyuu's come to realize that before he can move forward with his head held high, there's one thing he needs to do. He needs to see Urokodaki. If he doesn't, a part of him will always blame himself for something he couldn't control, he needs to forgive himself, if not for him at least for the people that care for him.

Giyuu knows that Urokodaki never thought he would come back to him. Giyuu let himself be consumed by his grief and in turn lost himself.

Urokodaki didn't just lose one child that night.

His fingers tighten on Urokodaki's familiar kimono and he buries his face in the crook of Urokodaki's neck, trying to shut out the rest of the world.

"I think it's time you visited him," Urokodaki murmured in his ear, a comforting hand on his back.

Giyuu nods, his eyes stinging with tears unshed. Urokodaki seems to soften, even under the mask, and puts a comforting hand on Giyuu's cheek. His hands carry a lifetime of emotions, holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

You came back to me, Urokodaki seemed to say.

Giyuu could spend an eternity apologizing for leaving him behind. Years ago he apologized for not coming back with Sabito in tow, but the guilt has started to wane. Now he lets himself feel grateful and even happy about being in the arms of a man who is like a father.

As Giyuu climbs the mountain he thinks of his early days, where the thin mountain air would strangle his lungs and the rocky terrain would scrape his feet. Now he climbs the mountain with ease, breath flowing like the river rapids. He thinks of the boy he has come to see, how he would dart between trees, wanting to be chased, kicking up pebbles and leaves as he scrambled to be the first to reach the top.

Giyuu finally sees the clearing where Sabito and him cut the boulder. He sees a pair of foxes scamper away when they notice his presence. He sees the spirit of the boy he once loved, staring back at him in disbelief.

All Giyuu can do is stare back.

"Hey Sabito" Giyuu's eyes are mournful.

Sabito stands there, as brave and resilient as he remembers, crowned with the flowers of their childhood, surrounded by foxes.

Giyuu can feel tears well up in his eyes.

"Giyuu" Sabito breathes, his voice tinged with longing, with regret.

"I'm home," Giyuu says.

Home

He rolls that strange unfamiliar word on his tongue and wonders when he stopped using it.

"You're really here" Sabito doesn't sound like he believes it.

Giyuu reaches out to touch Sabito, only to feel a cold wind on his fingertips. Giyuu finds himself unable to say anything, the words heavy and cloying in his throat, sealing his lips shut. His words burn the longer they stay there but all Giyuu can bring himself to do is look at him. Look at the boy he once loved with all of his heart and wear his pain more openly than he has in years.

"It's not your fault Giyuu" Sabito's fond as ever, even as it tears at Giyuu's heart.

"I think I finally know that now…but it still hurts"

Giyuu cries openly now, years of guilt and grief spilling out of the cracks like water cracking mountain stone.

"How am I supposed to live without you?" Giyuu sobs, the plea tearing itself out of his heart.

Sabito smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes, "You already have been."

Giyuu feels something in him burst like a dam, a fury he'd long forgotten.

"I wasn't living! I was barely keeping it together-"

He falls to his knees, the hard rocks scraping his knees.

Giyuu's lip trembles, "So what if I could live without you?...I never wanted to."

"I know, I never wanted it to turn out like this either, believe me," Sabito laughs humorlessly.

Giyuu sits there in silence, without raising his head to look at Sabito. He doesn't know if he can face that endless encouragement that came from a boy who he forced to become larger than life. He feels a cold touch on his hand and looks up to see Sabito kneeled down with him, a wisp of a smile adorned on his ghostly visage.

"I've never once regretted my decision Giyuu" Sabito looks at him with a softness so familiar it aches. "I wanted to save them and I wanted to save you."

Silence hangs over them heavy like a funeral shroud.

"I wish I could stay here forever" Giyuu whispers, a sorrow blanketing over them, "I'll miss you, I don't think I'll ever forget you."

"You don't need to miss me Giyuu, I'm always here" Sabito's smile is bittersweet, "I know it's not the same, I know it's not enough, but I still love you, even though I'm no longer alive to say it."

Giyuu thinks about all those who've left, the Master, Rengoku, Gyomei, Mitsuri, Shinobu, Muichiro, and Obanai. He thinks about Sabito and his sister, the ones he left behind.

And he thinks about those he has left, Urokodaki, Tengen, Sanemi, even the kids. He remembers the lowest he's ever felt throughout his life, remembers the pain and anguish and how it made him want it to end. He remembers the highest he's ever felt, remembers the joy and elation and how it made him want to find purpose.

He thinks about the first time he descended this mountain as a demon slayer, Sabito dead and wounds freshly open to scar. He thinks about how he made a choice to die that day, to bury his love where Sabito left him. Today he will descend the mountain, uncovering that love, scattering flowers in its wake.

The haori on his back didn't wear as heavy as it used to, growing lighter with connection and love. Giyuu closed his heart, protected himself only to hurt himself in the process. He's been paying for mistakes Sabito never accused him of making in the first place. He hated the worthless man he always saw in the mirror, hated how he could only witness failure with each step he took. Maybe after all, it was time to let go and start telling himself he deserved to be more than his pain.

"I'll be back to visit you Sabito I promise." Giyuu looks back at him, a misty shine to his eyes but a smile curved on his lips, "but I also promise to live."

Sabito smiles at him, forlorn yet hopeful at the same time.

"See that you will."

In the distance two foxes play, racing each other down the mountain, crowned with love as they go.