Giyuu wipes sweat off her forehead.
She reaches out to help Tanjiro off the ground.
The morning sun breaks through the cover of trees and dapples the training ground in a faint light. The surroundings are quiet aside from the silent hum of cicadas.
"Thank you for your lesson, Giyuu-san!" Tanjiro says once he's on his feet. Sand clinging to his black uniform. "I will be sure to remember everything you have taught me!"
Her face doesn't betray the fondness that makes space besides the heavy fog in her chest. She has taught a fair share of demon slayers; none have become as fond to her as Tanjiro.
"Well done today, Tanjiro." Her voice is monotonous, yet he beams.
She is sparse with her praise. However, if she does praise someone, they deserve it.
The additional training Giyuu has forced upon Tanjiro, has made him noticeably stronger. His breathing style, while unique, has distinct water style woven into it.
His technique improves with every lesson.
That aptitude for learning paired with his adaptability to every situation makes him even more noteworthy.
Giyuu knows it does.
She sees it every time he interacts with his peers. Despite his friendly and easygoing nature, their gazes are filled with respect. Whether it's for him as a person or a swordsman, it's all the same in the end.
If you have a someone's respect, you have it.
Most of the Hashira have taken a liking to him as well. That knowledge makes her guilty and relieved.
Guilty because she's occupying the position that's obviously his. While she was submerged in doubt about her position before, she's certain now.
She should've never become the water Hashira.
Relieved because she can now pass her position on to him, saving her colleagues the burden of having a parasite in their midst. It was like a weight lifted from her shoulders the day she realized that Tanjiro could set her retirement plan in motion.
A retirement plan only in name.
With war on the horizon, no one is spared. The training program for demon slayers and pillars alike prepares their troops for the upcoming battle. Many believe that if they train hard enough, the upcoming battle will be the demon slayer's final battle. That they will stand victorious.
Giyuu knows that's wrong.
For those with a kind and just heart, their strength is a comfort and heavy responsibility. They're confident in their ability to protect themselves, yet they are not the only ones who matter.
For those who endanger themselves to save the weak, their strength becomes a stone tied around their waist. Ready to pull them into the depths of the ocean. As a result, the stronger and kinder you are, the more likely you are to drown.
"Do you have anywhere you need to be?" Giyuu asks, as Tanjiro wipes sweat off his forehead.
"I've promised to meet Muichiro-san for practice, but I'm getting breakfast with Zenitsu and Inosuke first." He says, smiling. "Did you have anything in mind, Giyuu-san?"
She shakes her head saying: "I was only curious," and begins walking towards the exit of the training ground.
"Oh okay, do you want to come with and join us for breakfast?" Tanjiro prods as he falls in step beside her.
"No, thank you. I have something I need to do first."
"Really?" He hums, "I haven't seen you in the food hall for a long time."
"I usually eat when most have left." She replies smoothly.
On the days when she has no appetite, all she wants to do is stay locked inside her estate while time continues passing without her.
She doesn't, but she wants to.
Giyuu keeps her gaze down and distracts herself by listening to Tanjiro's occasional commentary until they reach a fork in the road. With a polite goodbye they part ways and Giyuu walks towards the water Hashira estate.
She refuses to acknowledge it for what it's supposed to be. A home.
The truth is that a cabin by the roadside would feel more like a home than that estate does. Sure, it provides her with every need. That being a place to rest and train.
However, it is also the physical manifestation of her position in the corps.
Her- a Hashira.
Besides that, it's too spacious. The large rooms are empty from any form of mindless decoration. Only the necessary inventory decors the inside.
Giyuu kept it that way on purpose. She never had the intention of staying on the estate for as long as she has.
No one greets her as she enters. Giyuu has no right to miss the presence of the estate's attendees.
Their relationship in the beginning was strictly professional with minimal conversation, however after years of sharing the same space people tend to grow closer. That's exactly what happened between them.
However, due to the influx of demon slayers staying at the Ubuyashiki estate, they required more workers. Giyuu was the first to offer her attendees for the job.
Partially due to the lack of work at the water estate, mostly because of her plan to leave.
They still drop by and tend to her estate, often catching her up on their lives.
Sometimes they let it slip how much they miss working only at the water estate. Giyuu doesn't let it show how happy that makes her.
She hasn't been a liability to everyone.
Giyuu walks into the estate and heads straight for her sorry excuse of a kitchen.
The morning sun has risen higher in the sky, illuminating the room in a pleasant glow.
With the tea brewing she walks over to the low table in the middle of the floor. Paper scrolls lay strewn about on top of it, depicting several hand-drawn maps.
Long ago, she began noting down every safehouse she came across on her missions, as well as suspicious town activity.
That was before. Now, her information comes only through Ubuyashiki's scouts, and by the sound of it, Muzan is growing bolder.
Giyuu grabs her tea after a while and sits down by the table again.
She has some planning to do.
Night has long since fallen over the Ubuyashiki estate, but Giyuu sat unmoving on the outer veranda. Rain pattered softly against the roof tiles, slipping through the garden leaves in silvery strings.
Lantern lights flickered against her skin, but her eyes were fixed somewhere far away. Deeper and darker than the night.
Her uniform was still wet and clinging to her skin from her excessive training earlier. She'd felt on the edge of bursting from nerves and relentless energy by the end of her planning session and had ended up spending hours outside. Moving through familiar katanas.
Based on yesterday's urgent meeting: Muzan's informants are growing bolder. Families are vanishing without a trace. Towns are turning strange. So many risks are converging in silence.
She pressed her fingers lightly against her forehead.
Stay, one part of her whispered.
Leave, the other part breathed.
The conflicting thoughts have been plaguing her since the last Hashira meeting. She's struggling to reach a conclusion.
On one side, she has structure.
As a Hashira you have resources, a command and a place to return to after a mission.
She thought of Ubuyashiki's kind and gentle nature. His calm eyes clouded by illness, yet always unwavering. She thought of her colleagues:
Shinobu's teasing.
Matsuri's warmth, though Giyuu had doubts about how sincere she was.
Kyoujuro and Himejima's tolerance.
They were pillars – literally – holding back the collapse of humanity. To abandon that felt like sawing away her own foundation.
There was also Tanjiro with his determined and friendly nature.
If you leave, you betray their trust.
Her throat tightened.
But then she's reminded of the most recent information. Images of strange towns, strangled by an unseen enemy. Human eyes that are too cold, too observant. They all flow through her mind.
Muzan's shadow spreading silently through the night, invisible to her fellow Hashira because the obvious is never suspicious.
Out there, there would be no meetings. No protocols. No waiting.
She could move faster. Hunt deeper and erase Muzan's eyes.
From the outside, you can go where the Hashira cannot.
Giyuu imagined herself slipping into town under the cover of darkness, hood drawn low. She'd strike before anyone realized they were in danger.
The Corps are forced into secrecy and that restriction makes them predictable.
By leaving, she'd be anonymous. Unpredictable.
A weapon Muzan would struggle to trace.
Yet, despite all her self-doubt she can't help but be reluctant.
The Demon Slayer Corps was an organization that numbered in the hundreds, yet they grew fewer every year. The loss wounds through her mind like a spiteful snake: Every bite brings forth a painful memory.
The wound left by Sabito and Makomo's premature death is still too tender to be prodded upon. They were both so strong. Each carrying far more strength than Giyuu, yet she was the only one who survived.
Since that day, Giyuu realized how little the importance of strength was in the matter of life and death. Because in the end; it all comes down to luck.
Is it cruel to wish that she could give all her luck to the person who sacrificed himself to save her?
It doesn't matter if it is.
Nothing will take away how much she wants to go back in time and do something; anything, to change the past. To let him live in her stead.
The impossibility of it makes her slump into herself.
She tries to breathe the sudden negativity from her body, but it's only partially effective. This sadness-, if she can even call it that, feels more like heavy and dense fog that festers inside her.
Breathing can only do so much when the suffocating feeling clings to her insides.
However, the thought of them makes her hesitate.
What if someone else dies because she wasn't there? The rain sounds like rushing footsteps – ghosts of people she could fail again.
Yet, what if staying killed more?
She sighed at the uncertainty of it all. Realizing there was no point in speculating which decision would lead to the worst consequences in these uncertain times. She thought back to their last Hashira meeting.
Ubuyashiki warned them that war was coming. The terrifying truth was that Muzan only required one precise strike to shatter everything.
What if she hunted his eyes and ears? It would be far more difficult for him to deliver a harsh blow to the Corps with two of his metaphorical senses removed.
And then she felt it – clarity doused her like ice cold water.
The Corps were preparing for an attack they couldn't see.
She could make that attack stumble.
Rain slid down the shoji screens, shadows trembling across the room. Giyuu looked down at her Nichirin blade laying carefully in her lap.
Her reflection stared back in its steel – eyes tired, lonely, yet quietly burning.
Considering that Giyuu has felt like an anomaly ever since she became a pillar, she'd thought leaving would feel like the right thing to do. Like she realized she'd been walking the wrong path for too long only to coincidentally stumble upon a trail that leads directly to her original path.
Yet it's not relief that churns in her gut.
Giyuu wonders if it is a result of her constantly comparing every decision, she makes to what she thinks Sabito would have done: The more they differ the more hesitant she becomes.
Or if it's because of the uncertainty laying ahead of her.
Despite her feelings, she can't allow this to continue.
Giyuu Tomioka is water, and water becomes completely useless if it stagnates. It loses all force; the energy will not return until a change in its surroundings does.
Right now, Giyuu is stagnant. If she stays, she fights convention. If she leaves, she fights Muzan.
Lifting her blade; she pays attention to its balance, listening to the familiar whisper of steel.
As circumstance has it, the upcoming war is tipped in Muzan's favor. She tilts the blade to the right, light catching the navy blade.
Her decision settled silently in her bones.
She would leave, and tilt the war in the favor of the Corps.
Giyuu rose smoothly to her feet, sheathing her blade all the while. The rain had softened to a drizzle, nearly a whisper.
Tomorrow, she would deliver news of her resignation.
Morning mist clung to the Ubuyashiki estate, blurring the garden lights into soft glowing halos. The world was hushed – as though it was holding its breath.
Giyuu walked alone.
Wooden sandals clicked softly, her feet barely scuffed the stones. Yet each step felt heavier than the last. Adorning a formal uniform, the fabric strained slightly around her chest, though her half-and-half haori hung loose around her figure.
Two Kakushi escorted her silently from the entrance to the outdoor veranda of the main house, where the sliding paper doors were already open.
Ubuyashiki Kagaya sat within, surrounded by a warm morning light. He turned his head at the sound of her footsteps, eyes unseeing.
The curse hacks away at his life every day. His condition is obvious by the sound of his shallow breaths and the spreading of his shriveling pink curse-mark. Yet his gentle smile greeted her as she entered.
The sight was hurtful.
She pushed the pain down.
"Giyuu Tomioka," he greeted his voice faint but unwavering. "You rise early."
She knelt, bowing low until her forehead kissed the straw mat flooring.
"Ubuyashiki-sama," she answered, voice strange to her own ears.
A pause settles as she knelt upright – not awkward but heavy with words left unsaid
"You're here to concerning our last meeting," he said knowingly.
Her fists clenched where they rested against her thighs.
"Yes."
She inhaled slowly and deeply, as though it may be her last.
"I request… to step down from my position as a Hashira."
The words hung in the air like a blade. Kagaya did not react hastily, his eyes lowered - a contemplative expression on his face.
"You have served with unwavering discipline," he stated. "May I know the reason for this request?"
She was silent, then straightened her back in resolve.
"Our enemy has eyes and ears everywhere," she said. "Their presence in the nearby towns… the disappearance… their behavior," she slowly shook her head, gaze lowered to the tatami. "If I remain bound to this title, I will remain seen. Expected."
Her gaze hardened.
"Restricted. There are dangers the Corps cannot reach through official means. I believe I can do more away from the spotlight of the Hashira."
Ubuyashiki sighed quietly, folding frail hands in his lap.
"I feared one of you might come to this conclusion." His voice held neither anger nor disappointment, only weary understanding.
"You are correct. There are currents the organization cannot swim against openly." He raised his eyes, Giyuu felt as though he was seeing her.
"Do you choose to leave, knowing the loneliness it demands?"
Giyuu swallowed. Her voice was quiet – but absolute: "Yes. I've worked alone before."
Ubuyashiki's expression turned slightly pained, "that doesn't make it wise." He studied her for a long, silent moment. "And if I refuse?"
She lifted her chin. Her voice did not waver: "I will go anyway."
Finally, Kagaya's shoulders rose and fell with a soft breath. "You will go, then. But not as a traitor." He reached for a small wooden tablet beside him, bearing the Corps' seal, and gently set it in front of her. "You leave with my blessing. Not my condemnation."
Giyuu almost gasps, instead she bowed so low her forehead pressed the floor. "Thank you."
His voice softened even more: "You have always fought for other. Do not forget to fight for yourself."
Giyuu reached out for the Corps' seal. It will let her walk away in honor, not in disgrace. Making it so that she is not branded as a deserter.
Without it, she'd risk being investigated or hunted by the Corps. Being handed the seal feels like a final blessing from her leader.
She's preparing herself for a final goodbye when she remembers. "Oyakta-sama, may I ask for a quick visit to the butterfly estate before I leave?"
Ubuyashiki seems to contemplate for a second. "Yes, may I ask what for?"
"I would like to inform her of my departure myself."
Kagaya inclines his head in quiet understanding but notices there's something she's not telling him.
"In that case, I wish you all well, Giyuu Tomioka. May you achieve your true goal on this journey."
Giyuu gives a final bow as she stands. "I hope the Corps will stand victorious when this is over." Her sandals clicked against the straw mat floor, each step echoed like the tolling of a bell.
Outside, the mist welcomed her back like an old friend.